TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DEQUEEN BEE JANUARY 3, 1919 P. 2
Somewhere in France,
Nov. 27, 1918,
The Editor of De Queen Bee.
Dear Sir:
I have been thinking of writing you a few pages about the trip for quite a while, and will take this opportunity of doing so.
To begin at the beginning I will say I left Camp Mills, Long Island, New York, one afternoon with a detail of about 20 men and worked all night and most of the next day at the pier. Then the others arrived and we boarded a transport that brought us across.
Well a ship was something new to most of us and there was a particular vacancy on that ship for every soldier. So confusion reigned for awhile until we got settled down and learned our respective places.
Then next thing was supper, and we scrambled to our places at tables where we had about as much extra room as sardines in a can. We ate and perspired—mostly perspired, for it was stifling hot inside. But out on deck everything was fine and we had music, singing, boxing matches and other sports most every night until taps. We went out in the harbor where we stayed until 4 days day elapsed and then started on the real trip across the largest pool of water it has been my pleasure to see. And then after the ship had gotten into full swing with four different and distinct motions at once, some of the boys began to feel as if every friend in the world had deserted them, and they went to the rail where they began deserting themselves to a certain extent.
Then followed a few days when “mess call” or the sound of food would make them turn pale, but they finally got in a good humor with themselves and would take food in small quantities.
Of all the experiences in the world, one of the grandest is sleeping out on deck under a full moon with the waves ever splashing against the sides of the ship, and occasionally a fine salt spray falling upon you. We had several days of pretty weather, then some that were cold and rough. Then the waves would roll upon us like small mountains. Sometimes we would be down in a trough, then would rise out on a big wave that would break all over the front of the ship. Gee! But it was fine sport to stand behind the rail and dodge them, but some were too quick for us and we would be drenched with the cold salt water.
One afternoon about 8 o’clock, when everyone was reading, writing or sleeping, there came a muffled explosion and a distinct jar. Then everyone hurried to the deck ready to go to the life boats and the water all around us was suddenly alive with submarine chasers and one roar and tremor followed another as there were depth bombs dropped from the chasers for a U-boat was at hand and had hit the ship sailing next to us with a torpedo.
But, luckily there was little damage done, and no lives lost that I know of and the chasers scared our enemy off and afterward “done for it.” I guess you read an account of it in the papers. It happened on the 7th of September.
We finally arrived at Harve , a port on the shore of France. (ABOUT 10 MISSING LINES) Horses or Forty Men” we then wished we were horses, for the French box cars are very small compared to ours.
Well, a fellow could sleep very well, that is, if he could stand to hear he cries of the guy under him. One Bohemian, a very funny fellow, was discovered a 2 a.m. standing, looking at the scenery as it appeared by the light of the moon, and when asked what was the matter, he said; “I no sleep packed up like hog. I stand up all night first.”
We traveled two nights and one day through a very beautiful part of France, going within 12 miles of Paris, then turning South for a distance of 100 miles, we reached our destination, or we thought so, but it was a “sling packs,” and “forward march” for a distance of about 16 miles.
It was then that our former hikes proved of value to us for it was some hike after being penned up so long without much exercise, but with the exception of a few blistered heels we were none the worse for our long hike.
The first night we were billeted in a large barn, second floor front, the first being taken over by family of three, six cows, two horses, a bunch of rabbits and several fowls.
After we swept down the cob webs dating back to the 17th century, we spread our blanket for the night. The elevator was out of order, so we reached our flat by the ladder method and it was setting at an angle of 89 ½ degrees. They talk about the fresh air, but the fragrance that greeted us in the morning did not smell of the far-famed roses of France.
There were about 6 girlies, or madamoselles in that little town all wearing wooden shoes, and when they walked down the street it sounded like a company of infantry at route step.
From there we went out in the country to an old chateau. It is in a beautiful place and one can imagine how grand it was in its younger days when it was inhabited.
We are in the famous grape section of France and several days I have helped the French to pick grapes and make wine. The principal farming industries here seem to be grapes, wine, grain, hay and cattle. They have some fine herds of cattle here.
We have picked up enough of the language to get by on, but no need to try a conservation for all the answer we get is a shake of the head, and the words, “no compree” and that ends it.
Two weeks ago we rolled our packs and climbed into big trucks, 25 to a truck, and made an overland journey of about 20 miles to the camp we are at now. We are in wooden barracks now, and have three stoves in each one that heats them to a comfortable degree, our sleeping bunks are made in double sections, upper and lower berths and are very comfortable.
We are near a town as large as De Queen and it is as full of kids as a dog is of fleas, and it is a continual cry of “souvenir for me,” “cigarette for me,” “gum for me,” “tobac for me.” They seem to think the U.S. soldiers are made of souvenirs, etc., and most everyone has something to sell us for they say the “American soldat have bokoo Francs,” or many dollars. I saw a lady sewing today in a small niche of a place, and she had a basket of nuts and grapes on the end of the niche to sell the soldier that passed by. One comes out to camp everyday with a baby carriage filled with handkerchiefs, _______cards, etc., and we have lots of fun trying to talk to her.
The French have many days of celebration, mostly religious I think, and the huge church towers have 6 or 8 large bells of different tones in them, and it is wonderful to hear the different tones mingling and drifting out on the clear air when they are tolled at night.
One may read all they wish about this wonderful country, but it is for the eye to behold before it can be truly appreciated. There are many beautiful buildings here, some of them dating back several centuries, such as chateaus, castles, cathedrals, convents, tower, etc., and one can imagine many tales of love, romance, tragedy and adventure about them and doubtless some of them would be true.
There is no wonder that the French had as their war slogan, “There will be no defeat,” for their wonderful country is worth fighting and dying for.
Well, I wish we could have been in De Queen to help celebrate the news of peace, but we were heard from over here for the whole camp went wild and we proceeded to town where we joined the French in parades, singing, shouting and the shooting of fireworks far into the night.
Of course all of us want to be home, but it will be some time yet before we can do so, and we just have to be as patient as possible until our time comes.
But it will be a happy day for all of us when we can look far into the west and say with a heart full of love, “Homeward Bound,” an here’s looking forward to that time and hoping that I will find everyone well and happy at home when I do arrive.
Yours very truly,
Samuel O. Tyndall,
Ambulance Co. 152, 114 Sn. Tn.,
American Exp. Forces
NOTES: Samuel Ottis Tyndall was born in Wilton, Arkansas on December 14, 1894 and died on May 6, 1969. He is buried in the Ashdown Cemetery in Ashdown, Arkansas. He departed Hoboken, NJ on August 22, 1918 onboard the Toloa. He was serving as a Private in Ambulance Co. 154 114 Sanitary Train. He departed Brest, France on June 21, 1919 onboard the Finland and arrived in Boston, Massachusetts on June 30, 1919. He was serving as a Private in Ambulance Co 154 VII Corps Sanitary Train. Tyndall was writing to the editor of the Bee, L. A. Pearre.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON
Somewhere in France,
Nov. 27, 1918,
The Editor of De Queen Bee.
Dear Sir:
I have been thinking of writing you a few pages about the trip for quite a while, and will take this opportunity of doing so.
To begin at the beginning I will say I left Camp Mills, Long Island, New York, one afternoon with a detail of about 20 men and worked all night and most of the next day at the pier. Then the others arrived and we boarded a transport that brought us across.
Well a ship was something new to most of us and there was a particular vacancy on that ship for every soldier. So confusion reigned for awhile until we got settled down and learned our respective places.
Then next thing was supper, and we scrambled to our places at tables where we had about as much extra room as sardines in a can. We ate and perspired—mostly perspired, for it was stifling hot inside. But out on deck everything was fine and we had music, singing, boxing matches and other sports most every night until taps. We went out in the harbor where we stayed until 4 days day elapsed and then started on the real trip across the largest pool of water it has been my pleasure to see. And then after the ship had gotten into full swing with four different and distinct motions at once, some of the boys began to feel as if every friend in the world had deserted them, and they went to the rail where they began deserting themselves to a certain extent.
Then followed a few days when “mess call” or the sound of food would make them turn pale, but they finally got in a good humor with themselves and would take food in small quantities.
Of all the experiences in the world, one of the grandest is sleeping out on deck under a full moon with the waves ever splashing against the sides of the ship, and occasionally a fine salt spray falling upon you. We had several days of pretty weather, then some that were cold and rough. Then the waves would roll upon us like small mountains. Sometimes we would be down in a trough, then would rise out on a big wave that would break all over the front of the ship. Gee! But it was fine sport to stand behind the rail and dodge them, but some were too quick for us and we would be drenched with the cold salt water.
One afternoon about 8 o’clock, when everyone was reading, writing or sleeping, there came a muffled explosion and a distinct jar. Then everyone hurried to the deck ready to go to the life boats and the water all around us was suddenly alive with submarine chasers and one roar and tremor followed another as there were depth bombs dropped from the chasers for a U-boat was at hand and had hit the ship sailing next to us with a torpedo.
But, luckily there was little damage done, and no lives lost that I know of and the chasers scared our enemy off and afterward “done for it.” I guess you read an account of it in the papers. It happened on the 7th of September.
We finally arrived at Harve , a port on the shore of France. (ABOUT 10 MISSING LINES) Horses or Forty Men” we then wished we were horses, for the French box cars are very small compared to ours.
Well, a fellow could sleep very well, that is, if he could stand to hear he cries of the guy under him. One Bohemian, a very funny fellow, was discovered a 2 a.m. standing, looking at the scenery as it appeared by the light of the moon, and when asked what was the matter, he said; “I no sleep packed up like hog. I stand up all night first.”
We traveled two nights and one day through a very beautiful part of France, going within 12 miles of Paris, then turning South for a distance of 100 miles, we reached our destination, or we thought so, but it was a “sling packs,” and “forward march” for a distance of about 16 miles.
It was then that our former hikes proved of value to us for it was some hike after being penned up so long without much exercise, but with the exception of a few blistered heels we were none the worse for our long hike.
The first night we were billeted in a large barn, second floor front, the first being taken over by family of three, six cows, two horses, a bunch of rabbits and several fowls.
After we swept down the cob webs dating back to the 17th century, we spread our blanket for the night. The elevator was out of order, so we reached our flat by the ladder method and it was setting at an angle of 89 ½ degrees. They talk about the fresh air, but the fragrance that greeted us in the morning did not smell of the far-famed roses of France.
There were about 6 girlies, or madamoselles in that little town all wearing wooden shoes, and when they walked down the street it sounded like a company of infantry at route step.
From there we went out in the country to an old chateau. It is in a beautiful place and one can imagine how grand it was in its younger days when it was inhabited.
We are in the famous grape section of France and several days I have helped the French to pick grapes and make wine. The principal farming industries here seem to be grapes, wine, grain, hay and cattle. They have some fine herds of cattle here.
We have picked up enough of the language to get by on, but no need to try a conservation for all the answer we get is a shake of the head, and the words, “no compree” and that ends it.
Two weeks ago we rolled our packs and climbed into big trucks, 25 to a truck, and made an overland journey of about 20 miles to the camp we are at now. We are in wooden barracks now, and have three stoves in each one that heats them to a comfortable degree, our sleeping bunks are made in double sections, upper and lower berths and are very comfortable.
We are near a town as large as De Queen and it is as full of kids as a dog is of fleas, and it is a continual cry of “souvenir for me,” “cigarette for me,” “gum for me,” “tobac for me.” They seem to think the U.S. soldiers are made of souvenirs, etc., and most everyone has something to sell us for they say the “American soldat have bokoo Francs,” or many dollars. I saw a lady sewing today in a small niche of a place, and she had a basket of nuts and grapes on the end of the niche to sell the soldier that passed by. One comes out to camp everyday with a baby carriage filled with handkerchiefs, _______cards, etc., and we have lots of fun trying to talk to her.
The French have many days of celebration, mostly religious I think, and the huge church towers have 6 or 8 large bells of different tones in them, and it is wonderful to hear the different tones mingling and drifting out on the clear air when they are tolled at night.
One may read all they wish about this wonderful country, but it is for the eye to behold before it can be truly appreciated. There are many beautiful buildings here, some of them dating back several centuries, such as chateaus, castles, cathedrals, convents, tower, etc., and one can imagine many tales of love, romance, tragedy and adventure about them and doubtless some of them would be true.
There is no wonder that the French had as their war slogan, “There will be no defeat,” for their wonderful country is worth fighting and dying for.
Well, I wish we could have been in De Queen to help celebrate the news of peace, but we were heard from over here for the whole camp went wild and we proceeded to town where we joined the French in parades, singing, shouting and the shooting of fireworks far into the night.
Of course all of us want to be home, but it will be some time yet before we can do so, and we just have to be as patient as possible until our time comes.
But it will be a happy day for all of us when we can look far into the west and say with a heart full of love, “Homeward Bound,” an here’s looking forward to that time and hoping that I will find everyone well and happy at home when I do arrive.
Yours very truly,
Samuel O. Tyndall,
Ambulance Co. 152, 114 Sn. Tn.,
American Exp. Forces
NOTES: Samuel Ottis Tyndall was born in Wilton, Arkansas on December 14, 1894 and died on May 6, 1969. He is buried in the Ashdown Cemetery in Ashdown, Arkansas. He departed Hoboken, NJ on August 22, 1918 onboard the Toloa. He was serving as a Private in Ambulance Co. 154 114 Sanitary Train. He departed Brest, France on June 21, 1919 onboard the Finland and arrived in Boston, Massachusetts on June 30, 1919. He was serving as a Private in Ambulance Co 154 VII Corps Sanitary Train. Tyndall was writing to the editor of the Bee, L. A. Pearre.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON