TRANSCRIBED FROM THE BATESVILLE GUARD DECEMBER 14, 1917 P. 3
Dear Father:
This leaves me, as you will see, a long ways from home. Sorry I could not tell you our future movements before sailing last. The war department now allows us to write home, after landing in England. Our ship brought over a war council composed of noted men, as you have read in the morning papers I am mailing you. We of the Huntington all felt honored when we learned that these men had asked that our ship carry them safely through the war zone.
It was speed that was most demanding of us this trip. When going through the war zone our captain has no mercy whatever on we firemen. Full speed ahead under forced draft is ordered, and there is a petty officer over every four of us to see that we hold required steam pressure, keep regulation fires, etc., while chiefs and ensigns make frequent rounds under hard steaming, cheering us to action and renewing our strength and courage. Under this forced draft our fire rooms are sealed and charged with heavy air pressure. We lay down our slash bars and handle fires much the same as railroad men, also work by electric bell system.
When we have done our four hours steaming watch we are required to stand by battle stations four hours, then have four hours to eat a bite, wash clothes and if very lucky get an hour’s sleep on deck, for we bring out no hammocks when under way in the war zone. I stand 12 to 1 watch most of the time below.
Upon making Davenport, Eng. our good captain showed his feeling toward us in ordering a special train and sending one-fourth of us up here on a furlough of 48 hours.
We found English trains much different from ours, but they are very comfortable. Took London subway to Piccadilly circus station, inquired for a restaurant and was directed to a tea house. Ate small steak, two eggs, small bun and tea for 48c, American money. We have learned the value of their money and the lay of the city, have bought canes and hope to soon learn to walk and talk like the English. We have taken to these good people from the start, and they are heart and soul for us, too. I find them a very peculiar and interesting people. It seems so strange to be among people who all look, talk and walk alike. But they are big hearted and sociable, and just common folks like we Arkansas people, and do not harbor an atmosphere of aristocracy we see in so many English who come to America.
In England so many things are done backwards to our ways. Even on the streets they take the left.
We have found London a very wonderfully fascinating city. Not so modern and progressive (London even has no street cars) as our American cities, but rich in history and antiquity.
This morning I went through St. James park, which includes parliament and all the government buildings, the palace, tower, etc. Then attended services in Westminster Abbey, then was guided through all the coronation and tomb chambers of the nation’s past royal and favored people, and one of the greatest desires of my life was fulfilled in seeing through this abbey.
I then took a bus to upper Fleet street, near St. Dunstan church, where I stood till late afternoon witnessing Lord Mayor’s annual procession. No doubt this is the grandest spectacle of this nature the world has ever seen. Every rank and uniform of civil and military service of the United Kingdom was represented, and almost every fighting device of theirs and the enemy was exhibited. In line were companies of battle-scarred warriors from every corner of the earth. Some would have three and four wound stripes on their arms, all smiling and fired with enthusiasm
Every nation and line of service has a little different uniform. The proudest seemed his majesty’s flying corps, the hardiest and happiest appearing were the Australians. The Boy Scouts had a grand representation. A company of women passed with their horny hands of farm toil, then came the lady munition workers with faces scorched yellow, then a company of battle-scarred women in khaki from the front, and I had to shed a tear. No man or woman of military age could see all this without being prompted to some action.
Canada had the largest band, but his majesty’s mounted band played best. I so enjoyed the Highlanders’ bag pipes.
My duty lies out yonder among the U-boats, but when I mingle with, talk to and see all these demonstrations I want to go with them out into that mysterious battle field and help con-
quer. England has a bonnie husky bunch of soldiers, not the little Tommies we read of in America, but likened unto the big farm boys coming from Arkansas.
I have watched these men drill and their discipline is perfect. They say the Germans throw up their hands when cornered, but the Prussians fight to the finish.
One sees no loud dressing here as in New York; common, plain clothes but clean and neat. In America the uniformed man comes last, but here the uniformed man has the cream of the land, and half of the people on the streets wear uniforms.
Women work here in almost every line of duty.
There are lots of Americans in the Canadian band. A cornet man left the ranks yesterday to grasp my hand and tell me he was from Joplin, Mo.
Last night I went to his majesty’s theatre and saw Chu Chin Chow. The theatre was not so large as some of our Broadway shows but better quality, more talent and better productions.
I wish I could write to Conway Hail. You know he was so nice to Albert Wiggins and I while he was in New York. Thank him for us. I will close for this time. You may give this letter to Allen Trevathan as I haven’t time to write to him now.
Your son,
Guy Pease.
NOTES: This letter was written by Clarence Guy Fischer Peace (newspaper misspelled his name). He was born in Siloam, Springs, Missouri on January 3, 1893 and died in Sonora, California on September 16, 1964. He is buried in the Golden Gate National Cemetery in San Bruno, California. His military headstone identifies him as a California F1 serving in the US Navy during World War I. he lived in Batesville, Arkansas until about 1910 before moving out west. His family ran a lumber business in Batesville. Pease was serving on the U. S. steamship Huntington and is writing to his father in Batesville, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS
Dear Father:
This leaves me, as you will see, a long ways from home. Sorry I could not tell you our future movements before sailing last. The war department now allows us to write home, after landing in England. Our ship brought over a war council composed of noted men, as you have read in the morning papers I am mailing you. We of the Huntington all felt honored when we learned that these men had asked that our ship carry them safely through the war zone.
It was speed that was most demanding of us this trip. When going through the war zone our captain has no mercy whatever on we firemen. Full speed ahead under forced draft is ordered, and there is a petty officer over every four of us to see that we hold required steam pressure, keep regulation fires, etc., while chiefs and ensigns make frequent rounds under hard steaming, cheering us to action and renewing our strength and courage. Under this forced draft our fire rooms are sealed and charged with heavy air pressure. We lay down our slash bars and handle fires much the same as railroad men, also work by electric bell system.
When we have done our four hours steaming watch we are required to stand by battle stations four hours, then have four hours to eat a bite, wash clothes and if very lucky get an hour’s sleep on deck, for we bring out no hammocks when under way in the war zone. I stand 12 to 1 watch most of the time below.
Upon making Davenport, Eng. our good captain showed his feeling toward us in ordering a special train and sending one-fourth of us up here on a furlough of 48 hours.
We found English trains much different from ours, but they are very comfortable. Took London subway to Piccadilly circus station, inquired for a restaurant and was directed to a tea house. Ate small steak, two eggs, small bun and tea for 48c, American money. We have learned the value of their money and the lay of the city, have bought canes and hope to soon learn to walk and talk like the English. We have taken to these good people from the start, and they are heart and soul for us, too. I find them a very peculiar and interesting people. It seems so strange to be among people who all look, talk and walk alike. But they are big hearted and sociable, and just common folks like we Arkansas people, and do not harbor an atmosphere of aristocracy we see in so many English who come to America.
In England so many things are done backwards to our ways. Even on the streets they take the left.
We have found London a very wonderfully fascinating city. Not so modern and progressive (London even has no street cars) as our American cities, but rich in history and antiquity.
This morning I went through St. James park, which includes parliament and all the government buildings, the palace, tower, etc. Then attended services in Westminster Abbey, then was guided through all the coronation and tomb chambers of the nation’s past royal and favored people, and one of the greatest desires of my life was fulfilled in seeing through this abbey.
I then took a bus to upper Fleet street, near St. Dunstan church, where I stood till late afternoon witnessing Lord Mayor’s annual procession. No doubt this is the grandest spectacle of this nature the world has ever seen. Every rank and uniform of civil and military service of the United Kingdom was represented, and almost every fighting device of theirs and the enemy was exhibited. In line were companies of battle-scarred warriors from every corner of the earth. Some would have three and four wound stripes on their arms, all smiling and fired with enthusiasm
Every nation and line of service has a little different uniform. The proudest seemed his majesty’s flying corps, the hardiest and happiest appearing were the Australians. The Boy Scouts had a grand representation. A company of women passed with their horny hands of farm toil, then came the lady munition workers with faces scorched yellow, then a company of battle-scarred women in khaki from the front, and I had to shed a tear. No man or woman of military age could see all this without being prompted to some action.
Canada had the largest band, but his majesty’s mounted band played best. I so enjoyed the Highlanders’ bag pipes.
My duty lies out yonder among the U-boats, but when I mingle with, talk to and see all these demonstrations I want to go with them out into that mysterious battle field and help con-
quer. England has a bonnie husky bunch of soldiers, not the little Tommies we read of in America, but likened unto the big farm boys coming from Arkansas.
I have watched these men drill and their discipline is perfect. They say the Germans throw up their hands when cornered, but the Prussians fight to the finish.
One sees no loud dressing here as in New York; common, plain clothes but clean and neat. In America the uniformed man comes last, but here the uniformed man has the cream of the land, and half of the people on the streets wear uniforms.
Women work here in almost every line of duty.
There are lots of Americans in the Canadian band. A cornet man left the ranks yesterday to grasp my hand and tell me he was from Joplin, Mo.
Last night I went to his majesty’s theatre and saw Chu Chin Chow. The theatre was not so large as some of our Broadway shows but better quality, more talent and better productions.
I wish I could write to Conway Hail. You know he was so nice to Albert Wiggins and I while he was in New York. Thank him for us. I will close for this time. You may give this letter to Allen Trevathan as I haven’t time to write to him now.
Your son,
Guy Pease.
NOTES: This letter was written by Clarence Guy Fischer Peace (newspaper misspelled his name). He was born in Siloam, Springs, Missouri on January 3, 1893 and died in Sonora, California on September 16, 1964. He is buried in the Golden Gate National Cemetery in San Bruno, California. His military headstone identifies him as a California F1 serving in the US Navy during World War I. he lived in Batesville, Arkansas until about 1910 before moving out west. His family ran a lumber business in Batesville. Pease was serving on the U. S. steamship Huntington and is writing to his father in Batesville, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS