TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE NOVEMBER 5, P. 6
Am over here in the officers’ room at the “Y” waiting for noon mess and am sitting in a rocking chair for the first time in ages, from all of which you’ll notice this is Sunday. Quite an institution, this!
This “Y” and most of the others has a room for the use of officers only. Has a couple of tables, lots of books, all kinds of magazines, willow chairs and hangings over the window, yes, real curtains. This arrangement is practically convenient, for we do not feel comfortable as we might when we have to go into the other part of the “hut.” We know, many of us from experience, how an enlisted man feels, having officers hanging around.
Services are being conducted in in the other rooms are crowds of men the main hall for those that desire, and reading, playing the Victrola, or in most cases, writing home to mother or to “her.”
I really can’t say too much for the “Y.” Before I joined the service I always had the idea that here one had religion rammed down his throat willy-nilly; that the “Y” workers were smugly self-righteous prigs and the men that frequented the “Y” would have been a “greasy grind” at college. Not so! Religion one does get here—a practical, soul-satisfying kind, but only if he wishes it.
The worker are men, not the “preachy” kind, but men who are trying to and succeeding in making life more bearable and happy here. Everyone frequents the “Y,” with its letter paper, stamp counter, movies, and entertainment nearly every night; its facilities for banking, telegraphing, parcel post, and phoning; its books and magazines its games and athletic equipment. I’m an enthusiastic admirer of it, and think it a great, great institution in the army of today.
Dear folks, if you or any of your friends want to do a bit toward the cause, no better way can be found than to keep it going.
This camp is in Chickamauga Park. Nearest to Chattanooga is Camp Oglethorpe and about the same location is Camp Greenleaf, and Camp Forest is the third and farthest away from the city. A splendid macadam road runs into town, autos and trolley cars so it’s very handy. The camp is quite prettily situated, monuments, markers and cannon all about marking historic spots of the Civil war.
Almost every day we have ladies at our mess and in here, too-very charming ones, apparently. Our mess has a habit of dressing for evening mess—blouses, white collars and cuffs. Quite nice, I think. The men in camp are good soldiers and a fine type of men and I’m very happy here.
NOTES: Lieutenant Loual Berthold Sugarman was writing to his relatives. He was born on May 24, 1894 in Little Rock, Arkansas and died on July 2, 1965 in Cook County, Illinois. He served as a draftsman in the Army. He was described as being tall and of medium build with gray eyes and blonde hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Am over here in the officers’ room at the “Y” waiting for noon mess and am sitting in a rocking chair for the first time in ages, from all of which you’ll notice this is Sunday. Quite an institution, this!
This “Y” and most of the others has a room for the use of officers only. Has a couple of tables, lots of books, all kinds of magazines, willow chairs and hangings over the window, yes, real curtains. This arrangement is practically convenient, for we do not feel comfortable as we might when we have to go into the other part of the “hut.” We know, many of us from experience, how an enlisted man feels, having officers hanging around.
Services are being conducted in in the other rooms are crowds of men the main hall for those that desire, and reading, playing the Victrola, or in most cases, writing home to mother or to “her.”
I really can’t say too much for the “Y.” Before I joined the service I always had the idea that here one had religion rammed down his throat willy-nilly; that the “Y” workers were smugly self-righteous prigs and the men that frequented the “Y” would have been a “greasy grind” at college. Not so! Religion one does get here—a practical, soul-satisfying kind, but only if he wishes it.
The worker are men, not the “preachy” kind, but men who are trying to and succeeding in making life more bearable and happy here. Everyone frequents the “Y,” with its letter paper, stamp counter, movies, and entertainment nearly every night; its facilities for banking, telegraphing, parcel post, and phoning; its books and magazines its games and athletic equipment. I’m an enthusiastic admirer of it, and think it a great, great institution in the army of today.
Dear folks, if you or any of your friends want to do a bit toward the cause, no better way can be found than to keep it going.
This camp is in Chickamauga Park. Nearest to Chattanooga is Camp Oglethorpe and about the same location is Camp Greenleaf, and Camp Forest is the third and farthest away from the city. A splendid macadam road runs into town, autos and trolley cars so it’s very handy. The camp is quite prettily situated, monuments, markers and cannon all about marking historic spots of the Civil war.
Almost every day we have ladies at our mess and in here, too-very charming ones, apparently. Our mess has a habit of dressing for evening mess—blouses, white collars and cuffs. Quite nice, I think. The men in camp are good soldiers and a fine type of men and I’m very happy here.
NOTES: Lieutenant Loual Berthold Sugarman was writing to his relatives. He was born on May 24, 1894 in Little Rock, Arkansas and died on July 2, 1965 in Cook County, Illinois. He served as a draftsman in the Army. He was described as being tall and of medium build with gray eyes and blonde hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT