TRANSCRIBED FROM THE ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT JULY 16, 1918 P. 12
It has been a month and one day since I removed my feet from U.S.A. soil. That seems a long time in one way, as so much has happened in so short a time. We are very comfortable here, about 75 miles from London. I am with an organization from Indiana, and they make me feel very much at home. We have them passing through from various parts of the country. I am learning to dance all over again. If you don’t dance in the army you don’t have much company. There are several small detachments of Americans here and we all get together and have a community dance.
By the time you get this I will be off the job as mail censor and we will be in our own hospital. It is a fine old mansion in Southern England and is said to be one of the most beautiful spots around here. It was turned over to the Red Cross by Lady (deleted-censored), and she moved out of her beautiful home for the soldiers. That is the spirit that prevails here.
Yesterday I had a letter from a wealthy lady who lives on the estate next to the one that is to be our hospital. She says she is not a nurse, but that if I needed help when we got there she would be glad to scrub, wash windows, clean wards and the like, as she had already worked one year in that capacity. Can you beat that? Some of the most cleaver and educated women I have seen in England are driving trucks and cooking for men and officers. They delight in it. They are wearing clothes 10 years old because they take pride in it.
I wish all America could see what these people are doing and they go right ahead and never flinch or say a word. They feel it is a grand thing to cook for and keep American officers’ quarters spick and span, and believe me, they know how to do it. I know you would love this country, it is so clean. They even sweep the roads with a hand broom.
One thing we do have over here is plenty of milk, the finest I ever drank. We had strawberries for dinner yesterday evening. Wish I had one of your good shortcakes.
NOTES: This partial letter was written by Captain Horace Porter Routh to his wife Mrs. Ray Alcorn Routh. He was born on March 28, 1879 in Fayetteville, Arkansas and died on April 7, 1945 in Washington County, Arkansas. He is buried in the Fayetteville National Cemetery at Fayetteville. His military headstone identifies him as serving from Arkansas as a Captain in the Medical Department. He enlisted as a doctor with hospital Unit T but was later transferred to an air squad. His wife, who was a nurse accepted a position in Public Health.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
It has been a month and one day since I removed my feet from U.S.A. soil. That seems a long time in one way, as so much has happened in so short a time. We are very comfortable here, about 75 miles from London. I am with an organization from Indiana, and they make me feel very much at home. We have them passing through from various parts of the country. I am learning to dance all over again. If you don’t dance in the army you don’t have much company. There are several small detachments of Americans here and we all get together and have a community dance.
By the time you get this I will be off the job as mail censor and we will be in our own hospital. It is a fine old mansion in Southern England and is said to be one of the most beautiful spots around here. It was turned over to the Red Cross by Lady (deleted-censored), and she moved out of her beautiful home for the soldiers. That is the spirit that prevails here.
Yesterday I had a letter from a wealthy lady who lives on the estate next to the one that is to be our hospital. She says she is not a nurse, but that if I needed help when we got there she would be glad to scrub, wash windows, clean wards and the like, as she had already worked one year in that capacity. Can you beat that? Some of the most cleaver and educated women I have seen in England are driving trucks and cooking for men and officers. They delight in it. They are wearing clothes 10 years old because they take pride in it.
I wish all America could see what these people are doing and they go right ahead and never flinch or say a word. They feel it is a grand thing to cook for and keep American officers’ quarters spick and span, and believe me, they know how to do it. I know you would love this country, it is so clean. They even sweep the roads with a hand broom.
One thing we do have over here is plenty of milk, the finest I ever drank. We had strawberries for dinner yesterday evening. Wish I had one of your good shortcakes.
NOTES: This partial letter was written by Captain Horace Porter Routh to his wife Mrs. Ray Alcorn Routh. He was born on March 28, 1879 in Fayetteville, Arkansas and died on April 7, 1945 in Washington County, Arkansas. He is buried in the Fayetteville National Cemetery at Fayetteville. His military headstone identifies him as serving from Arkansas as a Captain in the Medical Department. He enlisted as a doctor with hospital Unit T but was later transferred to an air squad. His wife, who was a nurse accepted a position in Public Health.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT