TRANSCRIBED FROM THE POCAHONTAS STAR HERALD JANUARY 24, 1919 P. 2
U. S. S. Seneca
Dec. 10, 1918.
Dearest Home Folks:
I will try to write you a few lines to-night. I am now at Brest, which is a port on the coast of France.
We sailed from the Strait of Gibraltar and came along the coasts of Spain and Portugal, when we received a wireless message to meet the ship that President Wilson was coming over on. We turned northward until we met them, and then escorted them into Brest last Friday. Certainly had a great time in Brest Friday night.
My hopes of coming home soon have all vanished. We are just cruising from one place to another, and I understand that it may be several months before my ship will go back home. Almost every ship that leaves out is flying the homewardbound pennant and it sure makes me want to come home, too, but I try to console myself that there is a day coming for me.
I will tell you about one of my daring escapes from death. We were convoying a British ship, when it was torpedoed, and all the British crew deserted the ship. One of our officers asked the captain of our ship to allow some of us to go aboard the British ship and try to run it into shore. The officers called for some of us to follow, and I was among the boys, who responded. So we went to the ship and tried our best to run it into shore before it sunk, but about fifty or sixty miles from shore a hard storm came up, and tossed the ship around until it began to sink. Then two of our finest boys said, “We have fought our last fight and I am ready to die.” They jumped overboard and we never saw them anymore. The ship turned on its nose, and we rushed to the aft end, said a few words, and then jumped into the water. My last words before I jumped in were: “God bless the folks at home.” Some of the crew went down a few minutes after they jumped, but I managed to find a life ring and held to it. I was in the water about two hours, and the waves seemed like mountains. I can’t express how I felt, but I thought that death was upon me. All the other ships were gone, for they thought we were sure of reaching the shore, but I made up in my mind that I would not give up until the last minute. So in about two hours which seemed like two months, there was a search light placed upon me and remained until I could hear a whistle on a ship, and in a few minutes a Destroyer dashed like lightening toward me, took me aboard and carried me to the Sick Bay. I was almost gone. They searched awhile and found two or three more and that was all that was found alive out of about twenty. We picked one up who had drowned and sent his body back to his folks.
I shall ever forget the Destroyer and its crew, for it saved my life and I thank God I am still alive. I have fought over, under, and on the high seas, but that is about the narrowest escape I have had. I have had many other escapes that would be interesting.
I am sending all the children a post card in a separate envelope. I wish I could be at home Christmas, but I will be far away across the sea.
Accept my greatest wishes for a merry Christmas and a happy New Year for all the folks at home.
Address my mail now to the U. S. S. Seneca, in care of the post master, New York City. Write to me real soon.
Your sailor boy,
Douglas Lemmons
NOTES: Douglas Amos Lemmons was born at Pocahontas, Arkansas on September 30, 1897 and died in April 1969.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS
U. S. S. Seneca
Dec. 10, 1918.
Dearest Home Folks:
I will try to write you a few lines to-night. I am now at Brest, which is a port on the coast of France.
We sailed from the Strait of Gibraltar and came along the coasts of Spain and Portugal, when we received a wireless message to meet the ship that President Wilson was coming over on. We turned northward until we met them, and then escorted them into Brest last Friday. Certainly had a great time in Brest Friday night.
My hopes of coming home soon have all vanished. We are just cruising from one place to another, and I understand that it may be several months before my ship will go back home. Almost every ship that leaves out is flying the homewardbound pennant and it sure makes me want to come home, too, but I try to console myself that there is a day coming for me.
I will tell you about one of my daring escapes from death. We were convoying a British ship, when it was torpedoed, and all the British crew deserted the ship. One of our officers asked the captain of our ship to allow some of us to go aboard the British ship and try to run it into shore. The officers called for some of us to follow, and I was among the boys, who responded. So we went to the ship and tried our best to run it into shore before it sunk, but about fifty or sixty miles from shore a hard storm came up, and tossed the ship around until it began to sink. Then two of our finest boys said, “We have fought our last fight and I am ready to die.” They jumped overboard and we never saw them anymore. The ship turned on its nose, and we rushed to the aft end, said a few words, and then jumped into the water. My last words before I jumped in were: “God bless the folks at home.” Some of the crew went down a few minutes after they jumped, but I managed to find a life ring and held to it. I was in the water about two hours, and the waves seemed like mountains. I can’t express how I felt, but I thought that death was upon me. All the other ships were gone, for they thought we were sure of reaching the shore, but I made up in my mind that I would not give up until the last minute. So in about two hours which seemed like two months, there was a search light placed upon me and remained until I could hear a whistle on a ship, and in a few minutes a Destroyer dashed like lightening toward me, took me aboard and carried me to the Sick Bay. I was almost gone. They searched awhile and found two or three more and that was all that was found alive out of about twenty. We picked one up who had drowned and sent his body back to his folks.
I shall ever forget the Destroyer and its crew, for it saved my life and I thank God I am still alive. I have fought over, under, and on the high seas, but that is about the narrowest escape I have had. I have had many other escapes that would be interesting.
I am sending all the children a post card in a separate envelope. I wish I could be at home Christmas, but I will be far away across the sea.
Accept my greatest wishes for a merry Christmas and a happy New Year for all the folks at home.
Address my mail now to the U. S. S. Seneca, in care of the post master, New York City. Write to me real soon.
Your sailor boy,
Douglas Lemmons
NOTES: Douglas Amos Lemmons was born at Pocahontas, Arkansas on September 30, 1897 and died in April 1969.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS