TRANSCRIBED FROM THE BOONEVILLE DEMOCRAT NOVEMBER 28, 1918 PP. 6,8
Dear Home Folks:
I will drop you a few lines to let you know I have made another move, and what I mean it was some move too. Last night at 12 o’clock we left Camp Merritt, walked 8 miles and got on a ferry boat, crossed the Hudson river and unloaded on a transport, stayed all day and night on the son of a gun, unloaded the next a.m. on another ferry, sailed down the river, across Hudson Bay into the edge of the ocean. I began to think we was France bound, but at sun down last night we unloaded off the ferry and got on a train, rode for something like three hours before reaching camp and to our surprise we landed on the northeast corner of Long Island, N.Y. which is a God forsaken place. But the worst night I have ever spent in my life was on that transport vessel. I will tell you as near as I can how it was fixed. There was rooms, of course, and tables. In those rooms was about enough room for 50 men to bunk comfortable and instead of putting 50 to the room they wedged 100 in and the way we slept was a sight. Some of the men on the floors, which was a very unrespectable place, even for a dog and the rest of them had hammocks. There was hooks in the ceiling to hang the hammocks on. There was enough room between the beds, or hammocks for a man to turn around. It was just awful. We didn’t have anything to eat from the time we boarded the devil until we got off except some candy and of course we brought that.
There is some very beautiful scenery on the Hudson river, I must say. I saw several battleships, met a few sailors and they sure did cheer us and just before we landed a small boat overtook us and told us peace had been made, so we all felt good and had a lively time the rest of the way.
I’ll tell you why we are here. You see, we got orders to leave Camp Merritt and didn’t get any orders where to go so this was the only camp that was empty and here we came, but I have enjoyed all my trip except that awful day and night I spent on that transport. I saw the Statue of Liberty, also the Brooklyn bridge. Well, I can’t tell you much in a letter but I can tell some things when I see you that will be interesting and I don’t think it will be long until I come home for the infantry has all been ordered back to camps from which they came. I also noticed in the a.m. papers where arrangements was being made to send the boys home as soon as possible. We are now waiting for orders to leave here and I think they will come in tonight. The officers baggage has already gone to the depot, so you need not answer until you hear from us.
I will bid you all a sweet good eve, and I remain, as ever.
Your loving son,
Roy
NOTES: Roy Lee McInturf was born on July 20, 1896 at Booneville, Arkansas and died on March 13, 1960 at Bellflower, California. He is buried in the Los Angeles National Cemetery at Los Angeles, California. His military headstone identifies as an Arkansas, Pvt. in the U. S. Army serving in World War I. He was described as being tall and slender with blue eyes and dark hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Dear Home Folks:
I will drop you a few lines to let you know I have made another move, and what I mean it was some move too. Last night at 12 o’clock we left Camp Merritt, walked 8 miles and got on a ferry boat, crossed the Hudson river and unloaded on a transport, stayed all day and night on the son of a gun, unloaded the next a.m. on another ferry, sailed down the river, across Hudson Bay into the edge of the ocean. I began to think we was France bound, but at sun down last night we unloaded off the ferry and got on a train, rode for something like three hours before reaching camp and to our surprise we landed on the northeast corner of Long Island, N.Y. which is a God forsaken place. But the worst night I have ever spent in my life was on that transport vessel. I will tell you as near as I can how it was fixed. There was rooms, of course, and tables. In those rooms was about enough room for 50 men to bunk comfortable and instead of putting 50 to the room they wedged 100 in and the way we slept was a sight. Some of the men on the floors, which was a very unrespectable place, even for a dog and the rest of them had hammocks. There was hooks in the ceiling to hang the hammocks on. There was enough room between the beds, or hammocks for a man to turn around. It was just awful. We didn’t have anything to eat from the time we boarded the devil until we got off except some candy and of course we brought that.
There is some very beautiful scenery on the Hudson river, I must say. I saw several battleships, met a few sailors and they sure did cheer us and just before we landed a small boat overtook us and told us peace had been made, so we all felt good and had a lively time the rest of the way.
I’ll tell you why we are here. You see, we got orders to leave Camp Merritt and didn’t get any orders where to go so this was the only camp that was empty and here we came, but I have enjoyed all my trip except that awful day and night I spent on that transport. I saw the Statue of Liberty, also the Brooklyn bridge. Well, I can’t tell you much in a letter but I can tell some things when I see you that will be interesting and I don’t think it will be long until I come home for the infantry has all been ordered back to camps from which they came. I also noticed in the a.m. papers where arrangements was being made to send the boys home as soon as possible. We are now waiting for orders to leave here and I think they will come in tonight. The officers baggage has already gone to the depot, so you need not answer until you hear from us.
I will bid you all a sweet good eve, and I remain, as ever.
Your loving son,
Roy
NOTES: Roy Lee McInturf was born on July 20, 1896 at Booneville, Arkansas and died on March 13, 1960 at Bellflower, California. He is buried in the Los Angeles National Cemetery at Los Angeles, California. His military headstone identifies as an Arkansas, Pvt. in the U. S. Army serving in World War I. He was described as being tall and slender with blue eyes and dark hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT