TRANSCRIBED FROM THE VAN BUREN COUNTY DEMOCRAT APRIL 26, 1918 P. 1
Camp Travis, Tex., Apr. 15.
VAN BUREN CO. DEMOCRAT,
Clinton, Arkansas,
DEAR EDITOR:
As other boys are writing of how army life is suiting them and to show that I am still interested in good old Van Buren county in general and the town of my high school days in particular I herewith submit a few lines for publication.
Being registered in Oklahoma was likewise cought there by the draft and sent to the camp for Oklahoma and Texas boys. But we have the consolation of knowing that we are in a camp which has the reputation of being the best equipped cantonment our "Uncle" has. And we get an abundance of "eating" and drilling I dare say half the boys are getting better "chuck" than they got at home. Easter Sunday we had eggs for breakfast and dinner.
I am in the machine gun batallion. The officers tell us that it is the highest branch in the service and the hardest to learn. As we are supposed to believe what they tell us I won't dispute it, for I don't think a better corps of officers ever gave a commaud. However, I think I can vouch for the statement that it is hard to learn.
We have to move around with a speed that would almost make greased lightning ashamed. And I had rather take the 14th chapter of Book 1 of Ceasar's Gallic War than some of the problems we have to do. It might give you some idea of what we have to do if you only knew what Prof. Ozment told us when we failed the third time to render what he considered a passing translation of this one chapter of our relative's masterpiece.
They vaccinate a fellow here for everything but Dutch bullets and the infernal hot weather. It is hotter here now than I ever saw it in Arkansas. As for this vaccination, by the time a fellow gets out of here he should be immune from every disease known to any of the "ologies."
But, next to this hot weather, what bothers me is having to be my own seamstress. If they catch a fellow with a button unbuttoned they whack it off and he has to get it back on in about ten minutes and do eight minutes work in the mean time. Now that isn't why I had to sew a button on the other day, but I did have a button off the sleeve of my shirt just the same and there is where I started my short-lived career as a seamstress. By the time I had found the eye in that button a sufficient number of times to make it stick I had also found the end of my thumb so many more times that it almost looked as if it had been run through a sausage mill.
On a whole, however, this life seems to be the very thing I was needing for I am getting as fat as a "Morgan hoss in a barley patch," as Uncle Remus says.
Well, I see I have written about three times what I should and drill call is sounding, so with the best of wishes for Clinton and everyone residing thereabouts will say that I am one of the country's sons preparing for a trip across the pond to hang "old glory" over the palace of Kaiser Bill. I remain,
Yours very respectfully,
OLIN STEPHENSON.
Co. C. 344 M.G. Bn.
NOTES: The newspaper incorrectly reported his name as Stephenson. Olin Stephenson was born on February 19, 1895 in Leslie, Arkansas. He died on February 10, 1977. He departed New York, NY on June 21, 1918 onboard the Italia. He was serving as a Private in Co. C 344th MG Battalion 90th Division.
TRANSCRIBE BY LAEL HARROD
Camp Travis, Tex., Apr. 15.
VAN BUREN CO. DEMOCRAT,
Clinton, Arkansas,
DEAR EDITOR:
As other boys are writing of how army life is suiting them and to show that I am still interested in good old Van Buren county in general and the town of my high school days in particular I herewith submit a few lines for publication.
Being registered in Oklahoma was likewise cought there by the draft and sent to the camp for Oklahoma and Texas boys. But we have the consolation of knowing that we are in a camp which has the reputation of being the best equipped cantonment our "Uncle" has. And we get an abundance of "eating" and drilling I dare say half the boys are getting better "chuck" than they got at home. Easter Sunday we had eggs for breakfast and dinner.
I am in the machine gun batallion. The officers tell us that it is the highest branch in the service and the hardest to learn. As we are supposed to believe what they tell us I won't dispute it, for I don't think a better corps of officers ever gave a commaud. However, I think I can vouch for the statement that it is hard to learn.
We have to move around with a speed that would almost make greased lightning ashamed. And I had rather take the 14th chapter of Book 1 of Ceasar's Gallic War than some of the problems we have to do. It might give you some idea of what we have to do if you only knew what Prof. Ozment told us when we failed the third time to render what he considered a passing translation of this one chapter of our relative's masterpiece.
They vaccinate a fellow here for everything but Dutch bullets and the infernal hot weather. It is hotter here now than I ever saw it in Arkansas. As for this vaccination, by the time a fellow gets out of here he should be immune from every disease known to any of the "ologies."
But, next to this hot weather, what bothers me is having to be my own seamstress. If they catch a fellow with a button unbuttoned they whack it off and he has to get it back on in about ten minutes and do eight minutes work in the mean time. Now that isn't why I had to sew a button on the other day, but I did have a button off the sleeve of my shirt just the same and there is where I started my short-lived career as a seamstress. By the time I had found the eye in that button a sufficient number of times to make it stick I had also found the end of my thumb so many more times that it almost looked as if it had been run through a sausage mill.
On a whole, however, this life seems to be the very thing I was needing for I am getting as fat as a "Morgan hoss in a barley patch," as Uncle Remus says.
Well, I see I have written about three times what I should and drill call is sounding, so with the best of wishes for Clinton and everyone residing thereabouts will say that I am one of the country's sons preparing for a trip across the pond to hang "old glory" over the palace of Kaiser Bill. I remain,
Yours very respectfully,
OLIN STEPHENSON.
Co. C. 344 M.G. Bn.
NOTES: The newspaper incorrectly reported his name as Stephenson. Olin Stephenson was born on February 19, 1895 in Leslie, Arkansas. He died on February 10, 1977. He departed New York, NY on June 21, 1918 onboard the Italia. He was serving as a Private in Co. C 344th MG Battalion 90th Division.
TRANSCRIBE BY LAEL HARROD