TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SPRNGDALE NEWS JANUARY 10, 1919 P. 3
Dear Bert:
As the official censorship is lifted, I will write you something of our trip over.
We left Philadelphia for New York June 28, via Central R. R. of New Jersey. Our baggage was addressed "Sub Chaser Base England." There were five hundred sailors in the several units. We arrived on the Central's pier about four o'clock put our baggage aboard two tugs and went up the river to 91st street pier. About the time the last bag was on the dock, we were ordered to replace it on the tugs as the ship we were to take would not sail until the following day. Returning to Ellis Island we had a fine chow. There is the best equipped and most sanitary galley I have ever setn. The weekly deficit of the commissary, $2,000 is paid by Helen Gould. After chow the "General Putman" brought over several hundred girls, who danced with the sailors and marines. Next afternoon we returned to the same dock and boarded our boat with 1540 soldiers. They were from Camps Cody, N. Mex. and Travis, Texas. Saw George Rebholz. he was in a quarter masters outfit, from Camp Travis. The Red Cross met us at the dock with Victory buns, ice cream and special cards to be written there and mailed after news of our safe arrival was received. We shoved off about four o'clock. The ship was an Aberdeen Liner, the Demosthenes, manned by English. Down the river we steamed past the Singer and Woolworth buildings, the Battery and Miss Liberty. On the way out we passed the Mauretania and many other large ships. They were all loaded to the rail with soldiers. The Leviathan had sailed the day before with 17,000 aboard. We were soon out at sea and headed for Halifax "on our own." We arrived off that port July 2nd. The fog was dense and we lay on and off for 24 hours trying to make the entrance. The fog had lifted a little by noon of the 3rd. We picked up the light ship and headed for the mouth of the harbor. We narrowly missed going on the rocks. I could have thrown a baseball to the land on our portbeam. We plowed thru lobster pots and fishing nets. A little motor launch came gliding out of the fog and signalled the ship to veer to starboard and keep clear. As we went up the harbor I saw the results of the explosion which occured more than a year ago. One could faintly see traces of the streets and the stubs of blasted trees. We were in Halifax harbor for 24 hours, leaving soon afternoon, July 4. I was to pull an oar in a cutter race that afternoon but we got under way too soon. The boxing and wrestling bouts were pulled off as per schedule.
Here we picked up our convoy of 13 transports and supply ships and one English cruiser, the Devonshire. She was for protection from sea raiders. The best the Demosthenes could do was 16 knots. The convoy was speeded to 14. Out of Halifax a day or two a spy was unearthed in a coal bunker. He was put in the brig. He was an Austrian and seemed to be insane. He cheered us up by telling us that the Demosthenes would never reach Europe. She is a triple screw steamer and before he was captured had damaged one of the shafts. It revolved with an awful grinding roar.
The first part of the trip was not rough and little of interest occurred. I was not sick at all. We had a boat drill daily. I was assigned to Station 2, raft 8. There were two Y men aboard. They had a nice little library. I read "Adam Bede" and the "Minor of the Sea." Saw lots of sharks, whales and porpoises but only two ships not of our convoy.
Saturday afternoon July 13th we were plowing along thru the Irish sea. We had picked up our convoy at daylight, six American destroyers and one British "Q" boat. The Yanks were circling us and the Devonshire sweeping the sea before us. The convoy was en echelon and the weather thick. We had chowed and I had gone on deck. Suddenly I heard a dull roar. The ship trembled all over. I thought that we had been hit or that the damaged shaft had quit. The supply ship sailing about 600 yards on our port quarter stopped dead still. The Germans had let go a torpedo at her. A red Burgee pennant flew to her mast head and her siren screamed. But the Hun had missed. The nearest Yank destroyer turned on her heal and made for the ship like a streak of light. Black smoke rolling from all funnels and the crews at their guns. She slid in astern of the supply ship and spilled ten more ash cans. When the destroyer got on the spot, the ship proceeded. The remainder of the convoy was already making knots dead ahead. No zig-zagging there. Each ship broke a red pennant at the foremast designating, "Going ahead at one knot or more faster than standard speed."
Early Monday morning we slipped up the Mersey River to Liverpool. I don't believe any one was sorry when both bower anchors were let go and the chains clanked thru the hawser pipes. The gun crew swung their guns inboard, stowed the ammunition below decks and prepared to go ashore. The life boats were gripped in and tackle rigged for hauling the cargo and officers baggage from the hold. We went in on the tide and warped alongside a Cunard dock. The destroyers came in also. The 88 passed us like a streak, her crew on deck and a happier lot I never saw. It was their good luck to have strafed the Hun, and they got him too. We had our first sight of an English bobby and the queer double decked trams. Liverpool is now the greatest port in the world. I saw the Carpathia there. She is the ship that picked up the survivors of the Titanic. The Red Cross ambulances were on the dock. We had a case or two of the measles aboard, but no serious illness or death. We left via L. NW railway at 10:15. Our destination was base 27, Plymouth, and we were the second unit for this base. The others were for base 6, Queenstown, 9 Gibralter air stations in Scotland and air stations at Killingholme, England. The railway system is fierce. I hope I never ride another train for any considerable distance over here. Six of us were in one compartment. It was first class, and one goofy machinists mate slept in the hat rack. We reached North Road Station about 8:30 the next morning. It was raining of course.
I'll quit now and write some more later.
Love,
Carl.
NOTES: Carl Custer Phelan was serving at Naval Base No. 27, Plymouth, England when he wrote this letter to his sister, Bertha Phelan of Rogers, Arkansas. He was born on August 23, 1895 in Rogers and died on January 28, 1963. He is buried in the Rogers Cemetery in Rogers, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as a Texas soldier serving in as a Sea US Navy during WWI. He enlisted on December 5, 1917 and was discharged on September 2, 1919.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Dear Bert:
As the official censorship is lifted, I will write you something of our trip over.
We left Philadelphia for New York June 28, via Central R. R. of New Jersey. Our baggage was addressed "Sub Chaser Base England." There were five hundred sailors in the several units. We arrived on the Central's pier about four o'clock put our baggage aboard two tugs and went up the river to 91st street pier. About the time the last bag was on the dock, we were ordered to replace it on the tugs as the ship we were to take would not sail until the following day. Returning to Ellis Island we had a fine chow. There is the best equipped and most sanitary galley I have ever setn. The weekly deficit of the commissary, $2,000 is paid by Helen Gould. After chow the "General Putman" brought over several hundred girls, who danced with the sailors and marines. Next afternoon we returned to the same dock and boarded our boat with 1540 soldiers. They were from Camps Cody, N. Mex. and Travis, Texas. Saw George Rebholz. he was in a quarter masters outfit, from Camp Travis. The Red Cross met us at the dock with Victory buns, ice cream and special cards to be written there and mailed after news of our safe arrival was received. We shoved off about four o'clock. The ship was an Aberdeen Liner, the Demosthenes, manned by English. Down the river we steamed past the Singer and Woolworth buildings, the Battery and Miss Liberty. On the way out we passed the Mauretania and many other large ships. They were all loaded to the rail with soldiers. The Leviathan had sailed the day before with 17,000 aboard. We were soon out at sea and headed for Halifax "on our own." We arrived off that port July 2nd. The fog was dense and we lay on and off for 24 hours trying to make the entrance. The fog had lifted a little by noon of the 3rd. We picked up the light ship and headed for the mouth of the harbor. We narrowly missed going on the rocks. I could have thrown a baseball to the land on our portbeam. We plowed thru lobster pots and fishing nets. A little motor launch came gliding out of the fog and signalled the ship to veer to starboard and keep clear. As we went up the harbor I saw the results of the explosion which occured more than a year ago. One could faintly see traces of the streets and the stubs of blasted trees. We were in Halifax harbor for 24 hours, leaving soon afternoon, July 4. I was to pull an oar in a cutter race that afternoon but we got under way too soon. The boxing and wrestling bouts were pulled off as per schedule.
Here we picked up our convoy of 13 transports and supply ships and one English cruiser, the Devonshire. She was for protection from sea raiders. The best the Demosthenes could do was 16 knots. The convoy was speeded to 14. Out of Halifax a day or two a spy was unearthed in a coal bunker. He was put in the brig. He was an Austrian and seemed to be insane. He cheered us up by telling us that the Demosthenes would never reach Europe. She is a triple screw steamer and before he was captured had damaged one of the shafts. It revolved with an awful grinding roar.
The first part of the trip was not rough and little of interest occurred. I was not sick at all. We had a boat drill daily. I was assigned to Station 2, raft 8. There were two Y men aboard. They had a nice little library. I read "Adam Bede" and the "Minor of the Sea." Saw lots of sharks, whales and porpoises but only two ships not of our convoy.
Saturday afternoon July 13th we were plowing along thru the Irish sea. We had picked up our convoy at daylight, six American destroyers and one British "Q" boat. The Yanks were circling us and the Devonshire sweeping the sea before us. The convoy was en echelon and the weather thick. We had chowed and I had gone on deck. Suddenly I heard a dull roar. The ship trembled all over. I thought that we had been hit or that the damaged shaft had quit. The supply ship sailing about 600 yards on our port quarter stopped dead still. The Germans had let go a torpedo at her. A red Burgee pennant flew to her mast head and her siren screamed. But the Hun had missed. The nearest Yank destroyer turned on her heal and made for the ship like a streak of light. Black smoke rolling from all funnels and the crews at their guns. She slid in astern of the supply ship and spilled ten more ash cans. When the destroyer got on the spot, the ship proceeded. The remainder of the convoy was already making knots dead ahead. No zig-zagging there. Each ship broke a red pennant at the foremast designating, "Going ahead at one knot or more faster than standard speed."
Early Monday morning we slipped up the Mersey River to Liverpool. I don't believe any one was sorry when both bower anchors were let go and the chains clanked thru the hawser pipes. The gun crew swung their guns inboard, stowed the ammunition below decks and prepared to go ashore. The life boats were gripped in and tackle rigged for hauling the cargo and officers baggage from the hold. We went in on the tide and warped alongside a Cunard dock. The destroyers came in also. The 88 passed us like a streak, her crew on deck and a happier lot I never saw. It was their good luck to have strafed the Hun, and they got him too. We had our first sight of an English bobby and the queer double decked trams. Liverpool is now the greatest port in the world. I saw the Carpathia there. She is the ship that picked up the survivors of the Titanic. The Red Cross ambulances were on the dock. We had a case or two of the measles aboard, but no serious illness or death. We left via L. NW railway at 10:15. Our destination was base 27, Plymouth, and we were the second unit for this base. The others were for base 6, Queenstown, 9 Gibralter air stations in Scotland and air stations at Killingholme, England. The railway system is fierce. I hope I never ride another train for any considerable distance over here. Six of us were in one compartment. It was first class, and one goofy machinists mate slept in the hat rack. We reached North Road Station about 8:30 the next morning. It was raining of course.
I'll quit now and write some more later.
Love,
Carl.
NOTES: Carl Custer Phelan was serving at Naval Base No. 27, Plymouth, England when he wrote this letter to his sister, Bertha Phelan of Rogers, Arkansas. He was born on August 23, 1895 in Rogers and died on January 28, 1963. He is buried in the Rogers Cemetery in Rogers, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as a Texas soldier serving in as a Sea US Navy during WWI. He enlisted on December 5, 1917 and was discharged on September 2, 1919.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD