TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DARDANELLE POST-DISPATCH AUGUST 8, 1918 P. 1
League Island Hospital.
Philadelphia, July 29, 1918
Dear Editor Post-Dispatch:
If space in your paper will permit, I would be glad to have you publish the following article for the benefit of your readers, for their amusement, and for the information, possibly, of those who anticipate entering some branch of the service soon.
On April 15th, 1918, I entered the Naval Recruiting Station in Little Rock, feeling red-blooded and ready to get into the service. I made my desire known to one of the recruiting officers, who was over-anxious to rush me right through. After making out my application blank I was directed into an adjoining room for physical examination, then followed about 20 minutes of close physical inspection. This completed and all found “well and good,” the examining physician closely questioned me to find out if I would be eligible for the Hospital Corps, for one is required to stand a literary examination for this particular line of service. I could only tell him to give me a trial at it, all the while doubting my ability a bit, and thinking, too, that I was hastening myself right into a “mad house” where my only vision from then on would be German U-Boats and torpedoed sailors. But I got by with that alright and was ushered into another adjoining room for the real test. It was in this examining room where I met another Arkansas boy from Jonesboro who was to be my friend and pal for the following two months. (But that boy and I are no longer together, being separated about six weeks ago by a draft which took him to Paris Island, S. C., and which brought me here to League Island, Philadelphia.)
The examination all finished, I was notified to “stand by,” as the Navy term is, to leave. There is where I met three more boys who were to be sent out with me.
The following evening we boarded a Rock Island train, arriving at our destination. Norfolk, Va. At 10 o’clock a. m., April 19th. We brushed around until the afternoon taking a good survey of the place, near which we were to spend a few weeks in training. In the afternoon we took a ferry boat across the river to the St. Helena Training Station and at the entrance were carried by the gate orderly to a building called in naval terms, “Bug House”-the place where new recruits are received. There we found some 15 or 20 other men from different parts of the country who had not yet received their issue of clothes and other equipment. From this so-called “Bug House” began the awful task-for it must have been an awful one-of transforming us from civilian to military ways. We played around the place the rest of the afternoon, watching the sailors drill and unload vessels until it was nearly “chow” time-supper time. Then the comedy! What an awful method of eating! The mad rush to the “chow” hall seemed peculiar to me. I got there, though, and these were about the first words I got from the “Chief Commissary Steward” in charge: “Form in line back there; where do you think you are, at home?” Well, after the scramble to get to the front of the line, I found myself near the foot, where I found, too, most of the other new men. But we got supper alright, and in the morning were marched up to the store rooms, where we received our clothes and other equipment.
We remained at the “Bug House” two days and then were put out in the main camp, where we were to receive the three typhoid inoculations and the smallpox vaccination. One month in the camp, then we were transferred to Hampton Roads, Va., where about the same old routine was practiced until our company was completely broken up and the men of different rating sent to their respective work. I was shifted over to the Naval Hospital School where I was to receive special instruction in the care of, and first aid to the sick and wounded. I remained in the school about nine weeks when an out-going draft caught forty of us and placed us in scattered positions. Five of us were billed to report here for active duty in the Naval Hospital. I do not regret that I chanced to get on this draft either, for in every respect this is an ideal location. At present I’m on night duty in one of the sick wards. I go on duty at 9:00 o’clock p. m., and am relieved at 6:30 a. m. Have plenty to keep me busy, too, through the night, but have the full day following in which to sleep and rest.
I wasn’t in the service long until I changed my idea of its being such a bad place for a fellow; in fact, I think if one would get the real spirit of conduct that the Navy expects, it would be beneficial in shaping the conduct of many boys in after life.
At every Naval Camp, Station or Center there is always to be found the Y. M. C. A. with its various entertainments and religious services. The “Y” always performs its function well and always affords good, wholesome entertainments which naturally help to keep the soldier and sailor in good spirits. Another great factor in helping to keep this good spirit among the men is the mail from home; and friends “back there,” plenty of mail, and then a little more mail, is what the man in service loves. The worth of a letter to the soldier or sailor cannot be estimated. Bringing its message of good cheer, it is always welcome. When one feels blue from any cause, a letter from home telling that “Old Pide” has safely pulled away from a case of colic is real invigorating. So remember the boys with mail; then a great “bit” will have been performed.
Well, here’s hoping that the Kaiser will soon be forced to say, “Well done, faithful Allies,” and that the boys may soon return to homes made safe forever from the Hun. The heartless Kaiser may exhibit our boys in cages in Cologne to be laughed and jeered at by his vile subjects, still we’re sticking until the time when he will be glad to get away down low and beg mercy for ever having permitted such atrocities. Until such a time, I’ll count myself as one sailor.
C. C. Sturdivant
League Island Hospital
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY PAYTON DHOOGE
League Island Hospital.
Philadelphia, July 29, 1918
Dear Editor Post-Dispatch:
If space in your paper will permit, I would be glad to have you publish the following article for the benefit of your readers, for their amusement, and for the information, possibly, of those who anticipate entering some branch of the service soon.
On April 15th, 1918, I entered the Naval Recruiting Station in Little Rock, feeling red-blooded and ready to get into the service. I made my desire known to one of the recruiting officers, who was over-anxious to rush me right through. After making out my application blank I was directed into an adjoining room for physical examination, then followed about 20 minutes of close physical inspection. This completed and all found “well and good,” the examining physician closely questioned me to find out if I would be eligible for the Hospital Corps, for one is required to stand a literary examination for this particular line of service. I could only tell him to give me a trial at it, all the while doubting my ability a bit, and thinking, too, that I was hastening myself right into a “mad house” where my only vision from then on would be German U-Boats and torpedoed sailors. But I got by with that alright and was ushered into another adjoining room for the real test. It was in this examining room where I met another Arkansas boy from Jonesboro who was to be my friend and pal for the following two months. (But that boy and I are no longer together, being separated about six weeks ago by a draft which took him to Paris Island, S. C., and which brought me here to League Island, Philadelphia.)
The examination all finished, I was notified to “stand by,” as the Navy term is, to leave. There is where I met three more boys who were to be sent out with me.
The following evening we boarded a Rock Island train, arriving at our destination. Norfolk, Va. At 10 o’clock a. m., April 19th. We brushed around until the afternoon taking a good survey of the place, near which we were to spend a few weeks in training. In the afternoon we took a ferry boat across the river to the St. Helena Training Station and at the entrance were carried by the gate orderly to a building called in naval terms, “Bug House”-the place where new recruits are received. There we found some 15 or 20 other men from different parts of the country who had not yet received their issue of clothes and other equipment. From this so-called “Bug House” began the awful task-for it must have been an awful one-of transforming us from civilian to military ways. We played around the place the rest of the afternoon, watching the sailors drill and unload vessels until it was nearly “chow” time-supper time. Then the comedy! What an awful method of eating! The mad rush to the “chow” hall seemed peculiar to me. I got there, though, and these were about the first words I got from the “Chief Commissary Steward” in charge: “Form in line back there; where do you think you are, at home?” Well, after the scramble to get to the front of the line, I found myself near the foot, where I found, too, most of the other new men. But we got supper alright, and in the morning were marched up to the store rooms, where we received our clothes and other equipment.
We remained at the “Bug House” two days and then were put out in the main camp, where we were to receive the three typhoid inoculations and the smallpox vaccination. One month in the camp, then we were transferred to Hampton Roads, Va., where about the same old routine was practiced until our company was completely broken up and the men of different rating sent to their respective work. I was shifted over to the Naval Hospital School where I was to receive special instruction in the care of, and first aid to the sick and wounded. I remained in the school about nine weeks when an out-going draft caught forty of us and placed us in scattered positions. Five of us were billed to report here for active duty in the Naval Hospital. I do not regret that I chanced to get on this draft either, for in every respect this is an ideal location. At present I’m on night duty in one of the sick wards. I go on duty at 9:00 o’clock p. m., and am relieved at 6:30 a. m. Have plenty to keep me busy, too, through the night, but have the full day following in which to sleep and rest.
I wasn’t in the service long until I changed my idea of its being such a bad place for a fellow; in fact, I think if one would get the real spirit of conduct that the Navy expects, it would be beneficial in shaping the conduct of many boys in after life.
At every Naval Camp, Station or Center there is always to be found the Y. M. C. A. with its various entertainments and religious services. The “Y” always performs its function well and always affords good, wholesome entertainments which naturally help to keep the soldier and sailor in good spirits. Another great factor in helping to keep this good spirit among the men is the mail from home; and friends “back there,” plenty of mail, and then a little more mail, is what the man in service loves. The worth of a letter to the soldier or sailor cannot be estimated. Bringing its message of good cheer, it is always welcome. When one feels blue from any cause, a letter from home telling that “Old Pide” has safely pulled away from a case of colic is real invigorating. So remember the boys with mail; then a great “bit” will have been performed.
Well, here’s hoping that the Kaiser will soon be forced to say, “Well done, faithful Allies,” and that the boys may soon return to homes made safe forever from the Hun. The heartless Kaiser may exhibit our boys in cages in Cologne to be laughed and jeered at by his vile subjects, still we’re sticking until the time when he will be glad to get away down low and beg mercy for ever having permitted such atrocities. Until such a time, I’ll count myself as one sailor.
C. C. Sturdivant
League Island Hospital
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY PAYTON DHOOGE