Once there, we gave our names, picked up cigarette butts, reported for examination, hopped on one foot, squinted our eyes, coughed and were labeled O.K. Then came our uniforms usually ill-fitting, but khaki, which was what we wanted. And our shoes; Too big of course and we had a hard time to execute the drill movements which the omnipresent N.C.O.’s insisted on giving.

Planted in our barracks we were given our first fatigue suits and then routed out for our first K.P. duty. It was considered fun by most but those who had to peel onions in the kitchen shed many bitter tears.

Many of us, proud of being soldiers, had our pictures taken – usually by the side of Old Glory. We hope now that our folk do not exhibit these pictures at home.

The barber there left many of us badly scarred and we received lasting impressions of the corporals and sergeants in charge. By this time we had learned that the army contained such things as squads and platoons we bade farewell to the station, always referring to it thereafter as J.B.

On Aug. 17th we boarded Pullmans and started for San Antonio. Tomatoes, beans and corned Willy kept us alive. Arriving during the night we left the train in the morning of the 19th and marched into a field of weeds, roads, tents, and dust and placing ourselves conveniently in the sun waited for breakfast which was served that afternoon at three o’clock. Our tents that night were not entirely surrounded by weeds, so the next day we moved into a plot covered with weeds and erected our own tents. The weeds soon left as we attacked them with picks and shovels, hoes and brooms. Soon we were comfortable – our tents received names – Headquarters was surrounded by designs of pretty white rocks, so proud were we that when we left one of the fellows erected a sign saying, “We found this a wilderness we left it a home.”

Webb was our Sgt. Major, Gebert our Top Kick, and Schmals, Keys and King assisted in drilling. With Sgt Gebert in the lead we were wont to march out to a weed patch and march hither and thither, tramping down everything before us. There were wild tales afloat as to rattle snakes and Gila Monsters. Once we formed a company front and charged across the patch. I fain would tell more but I lack courage.

After that boys started a Monte Carlo. All went well until one yelled “Sheriff” and there was a scattering. Those of us who were in the tents shall not soon forget how the fellows sneaked in trying to look innocent. Inspections came regularly and woe to the man who left a match or cigarette under his bunk or who had a spot on his leggings. K.P. was his lot, and Flood was a hard man to convince that a pan was clean.

On Sept 29, after several false starts we boarded Pullman’s and started for Mineola something went wrong for in spite of the fact that our mess car caught fire at Indianapolis, we fed well during the journey. We made few stops, one being at Columbus, Ohio, where Kirkland’s girl lived. She grabbed him the moment he alighted and kissed him right in front of us. After our loud cheers we paraded thru the town and nearly won some cheers.

On the morning of the 13th we left the barracks at 2 a.m. It was dark and raining and muddy. We had orders to be quiet and except for the splash, splash, splash, we were.

Crowded cars, crowded depots, a crowded ferry boat, chilly breeze, an uncomfortable bunch and then we boarded SS. Pannonia. We had to stay below deck until we were well on our way but we emerged from our holes in time to wave good bye to the Liberty girl.

For most of us the ocean was a new sight and our ship a revelation. We slept below, very much so, where all was quiet. Each man had a separate bunk with nice straw and blankets and there we wanted to sit and think or just sit.

After a week we struck rough weather and rougher seas and the fish began getting their rations. If Jonah’s whale lived in such a sea, then it is easy to understand why he threw up Jonah, even after three days. We yielded food to the sea that was much older than that. Food goes a long way in the sea. Naturally we watched for submarines, some fish scared some of us badly by leaving a flush of foam behind them. Our gunners practiced by shooting at barrels or at intervals. As we neared Europe we practiced life boat drills and posted “sub” watches. The news that the White Sox had defeated the Giants cheered us somewhat, some of us. Some were from New York and others were beyond cheer.

Arriving in Liverpool on the afternoon of the 29th of Oct. we disembarked at 8:30 P.M. and immediately boarded a train, an English train with its side doors, compartments and 3rd written on the door. There we had our first vision of English girls, dressed in overalls, pushing carts and waving at us while we stared at them. All night we rode that train, but owing to the flexibility of our bodies we were all able to walk when we reached Borden.

Here we were a bit crowded in our tents, but we thought we were near the front and didn’t mind. On our second and last night we were awakened at 2 A.M. by loud and weird yells of “Air Raid.” Orders were to file to the ends of the earth. We did, Barefooted, bare headed, bare backed, and we resembled a group of specters frightened from their revels. The cook’s fire was put out in haste and we looked and listened for the Hun. Needless to say the alarm was false.

Here our squadron was split into the various one going to Stamford, Wye, Northolt, London Colony, Lincoln and Grantham. As we left a band played for us and the English explained that was always done for troops leaving for the front. Before leaving we were told that we would each learn a profession that would be of value to us in civil life. Lt. Fleitsman marched us to the train and as the train was about to leave someone called for cheers. They were given lustily and our last vision of Lt. Fleitsman was as he stood there on the platform alone, with eyes filled with tears. He was never with us again except for a short stay at Winchester during the mid winter. But located in London Hdqtrs. he kept a watchful eye on us and when it was in his power to help us he never failed us. Nothing has pleased us more than the news of his promotion to Captaincy.

Our life proper in England began when the various detachments reached their destinations. English money seemed exceedingly queer and their language was not ours. To call hoof “oof” and pay “Pie” was new to us. And then we were likely to learn the English system of swearing and then, ignorant of error, tell a girl that she was bloody fine. But gradually we learned and by Christmas we could click our heels, say “cawn’t” and “soddy” ( English for sorry), carry a walking stick, drink tea, smoke Goldflakes or Woodbines and recognize a British Officer.

Surely nothing but happiness was our lot while we were on detached service. The Tommies and we got along just like that, while their Sgt. Majors were our truest friends. When the detachment at London Colony was under Quarantine the S.M. called and arranged that the boys should have plenty of rations.

The girls we found to be things of beauty and joy forever. There were few cars and the girls could walk farther in one night than we wanted to walk in a week. They knew not Colgates, and never chewed gum, but they were dainty and three of our members fell victim to their charms and were wed.

In mid January the various detachments assembled at Winnel Down Camp Winchester and after moving to Lark Hill, Salisbury Plaines and a short stay of a week we were grouped into three flights, one going to Beaulieu and the other two to Stockbridge and to Chattie Hill and Lopcombe Corner. Here we received training on the British scouting machines, as a rule having charge of a flight and doing all the work on the machines. The novelty of the things English had worn off and except for occasional trips to London or other cities we were engaged in helping train pilots and learning the tricks of the trade.

The first week of May found us in Beaulieu assembled as a squadron again, preparing for duty in France. We began this by standing inspection after inspection, drilling during the half hour before dinner, by getting the Flu and during the latter part of our stay by working early and late. Finally a Colonel inspected us, the first Colonel I believe the majority of us had seen. Then we were ready to go.

While at Chattie Hill, Russell was struck by a propeller, one leg being injured. At Beaulieu we had suffered more casualties. On May 31 a day of twelve crashes and seven court martials, Fred Banners met his death while bathing in a nearby lake. Shortly afterward Bob Groppa was severely injured, both arms being broken. A few days later Mills was hit but his injuries were not as serious that the squadron lost him, he rejoined us at Winchester. By way of entertainment we had the English “Y” and our own concert company. This latter consisted of the 93rd quartettes and various other numbers of various talents from our and the other squadrons on the field. Our efforts won loud applause from even the English and we were given and accepted invitation to perform at the New Zealand Hospital at Brockenhurst.

The next day found us established at Homarantine where we secured our first francs, bought and rejoiced that we could by American goods at the Commissary and “Y”. Heaven seemed to open up to us. We helped build wooden hangers, saw our first Liberties, inspected the China men, saw French girls at work on aeroplanes and then left.

We boarded some more S.D. Pullman and were ready for the worst, had long waits and arrived at Issoudon at 1 A.M. where a warm meal was waiting for us. Our quarters there were fine and except for ten days quarantine we were as happy as a newly captured Hun. Here we drilled a bit, got our first instruction in the Manual of Arms so as to be able to participate in a July 14th parade at Issoudon., and worked on a Liberty and Neuport planes. The July 14th parade never materialized but we had a lively thunderstorm which made the Liberties fly as they had never flown before and as we did not lack excitement.

While here we saw our first American Concert parties. The first company presented “Just Home Folks” and was greeted by everyone who could leave his machine to work. A splendid show we called it. Movies were a regular part of the program and Joan d’Arc seemed forgotten. Then Miss McMein and Co. presented “Gertie, the original tank.” Never shall we forget the clever antics of Gertie in wagging her head or the golden (or were they silvery or rippling) tones of Miss McMein as she admonished Gertie to do her bit and not be haughty.

We reached camp one day, the Hun the next. We heard the wicked rhythmic hum of the Gotha as we lay in our bunks and wondered where those promised dugouts were and why we had not been warned that Fritz was coming. Orders were not to leave the barracks and some of us didn’t. Others couldn’t resist, but morning found us all alive. A lively interest was displayed by the men as to which pilot would get the first Hun. To add to the interest a bunch of the fellows picked pilots, each man depositing ten Francs, the man whose pilot scored first to get the pool. When the St. Mihel drive opened the Huns began falling and when confirmations came in, Lt. D’Olive was given credit for the first official victory. Buckler pocketed the money and remarked that he had never doubted the outcome of the contest. We had more casualties here. Sgt. Long was sent to the hospital with a broken arm. McMillan was hit by a prop but not seriously hurt. Kincaid received a bullet thru one hand but remained with us.

We were busy as of yore. The Argonne drive began on Sept 26 and we spent numerous patrols. Air raids were very rare and when they did threaten vicinity they missed us. On these occasions Schroeder distinguished himself as special light extinguisher. As a rule we had lanterns in the Hangars on the field and never thought of the Hun except in terms of tomorrow’s patrols.

To add to the excitement one half of a hangar was burned, where upon the men distinguished themselves and won the praise of the powers that be by efficiently handling Pyrenees. There was no canteen here with the result that we patronized a French store the “Alimentation.” The prices were such as the French saw fitting for Yanks and we learned as never before the precious value of a hazel nut or a grape.

More casualties came to us, Sutton, Morrison and Handley received bullet wounds, the latter being shot thru the arm and compelled to go to a hospital. Gevatosky was severely burned when a fire occurred in the armourer’s tent. Lindquist was sent to the hospital with a bruised leg. Anton Johannon with some fractured fingers and Albano with a severe compound fracture of the right leg. Hurtley was hit but not seriously hurt.

Oct 29 completed our first year of Foreign Service. The men were ordered not to leave the hangars until 6:30 while the cooks prepared (hamburgers and pie and trimmed celery). Supper was to be served at seven so promptly at 8:15 the head of the long line began moving. Retiring to our commodious dining room we ate and drank. The Officers had provided a barrel of “Biere” with the spigot end toward the tent. Then while the officers served the men made merry. Song and story began and soon Isbister was leading the performance singing racy songs and telling snappy stories. And lo-morning came and the barrel was not yet empty!!

Bar-le-Duc was not far away and occasionally the boys were given an afternoon to visit the town famous for the first part of its name., going there to dodge the M.P.’s and to buy dainty souvenirs and other daring things Yanks are prone to do. In camp we were visited by two or more concert companies one under the supervision of Margaret Mayo. We went saw and were convinced. The Daily Mail, Herald and Tribune found their way among us somehow and so we knew of the progress of the war, and knew too, what President Wilson was telling the Kaiser. We had peace declared several times by rumor but not until we reached the next camp did we succeed in stopping hostilities.

November 6th we were moving again, not far this time, stopping midway between Evers and Faucaucourt. Five days of spasmodic labor and the Armistice was on. After that we sent occasional patrols to somewhere but our labors were lightened. The days were short and there was no night work. Seven days leave was now permitted and such as we were lucky to have a glimpse of gay Paree, visited the leave centers and came back with glowing accounts. Mud was not an unknown quantity and the majority of us went through the Argonne, visited Verdun and felt that now we were ready to enlighten the people back in God’s country how wars are fought and won.

The last chapters of our career as a squadron cannot be written now. We have our souvenirs or are making them. Our barrack bags are ready to be packed at a moment’s notice. Battered and worn they are but they contain our all and speculation is rife as to whether we shall be allowed to keep them.

Rumors of moving fill the air. Troops are moving past our camp, announcing that they are bound for an Atlantic port. We fondly await our turn. In our visions the Lady Liberty holding high her flaming torch and beckoning us home. Our letters are filled with hints of the welcome that awaits us on those distant shores. In our travels to the front we have acquired a German Gas alarm. We intend to put that on the bow of the boat and between it and “Doc Branch” we shall let the folk know we are coming. The good die young, yet we live on. We are happy to have been here and to have done our duty in the great task which the world has just completed. With memories that have no room for woes or sorrows but thickly filled with the unforgettable hours we have spent we want the call to return to the land which we hold so dear.