WWI Memoir of C.R. Black

World War I Memories

from

My Diary --

C.R. Black

THE WEAVER

My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
he weaveth steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow,
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent
Ant the shuttle ceases to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the skillful weaver's hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

At Nielles France, July 19 1948 -- CR Black

When the United States entered the world's conflict in 1917, many young bloods were eager to participate in the excitement, or felt it their duty to follow the path of their illustrious forefathers by enlisting in Uncle Sam's new army for the duration of the war, then existing only on paper, but in plans in the greatest constructive minds in the country.

The executive ability later displayed in carrying out those plans and the results obtained give all Americans who had the opportunity to make a comparison with the same work by Europeans, more enthusiastic for Yankee progressiveness and ability than ever before.

After enlisting and being told all about the signal corps we hastened to bid home folks and friends a fond farewell, placed our business affairs in such shape that they would not suffer in the event of an immediate departure of us newly made soldiers, or rather new enlistees.

NOW THE STORY

On February the 13th at Lisbon North Dakota, together with twelve other Ransom County young men we enlisted and were sworn into the U.S. Army in the Signal Corps at the Ransom County Court House in the presence of County Auditor Chas. E. Best and witnessed by Dr. T.C. Patterson and another court house official. The unlucky number thirteen of us and the date thirteenth proved fairly lucky for us. When we answered roll call and signed on the dotted line we were: Halfton M Sagvold, Dan M Hookenson, Henry Hookenson and Edwin Ankerfelt of McLeod, North Dakota, Leo J. Billings and Curtis Armstrong of Lisbon, Francis McCann of Verona, Harvey Sole and Earl M Sannes of Enderlin, Clyde M Duty, Percy G. Carter, George Hoy, and myself of Sheldon, North Dakota.

After a brief talk given to us by Auditor Best and a handshake we took in the town so to speak until our train arrived which took us to Fargo. At our brief stop in Sheldon we stepped off to shake hands and bid goodbye to several friends.

Arriving in Fargo we were met by a Sgt. from the Fargo Recruiting office who took charge of us, took us to the office, issued us each our meal and sleeper tickets, and Earl Sannes was placed in charge of us. After eating supper and giving the town the last final going-over we went to the Great Northern Depot where we entrained and pulled out of Fargo shortly before Midnight for Minneapolis, arriving there the next day around noon.

Here we were joined by some sixty other enlistees from the northwest. Most of us took off down town to see the sights while others stayed close to the depot area. We were instructed to be back at the depot at 7 that evening. However, our train arrived some two hours late and when it did arrive we found out it was an 8-coach troop train and we were bound for Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. "What have we done now?" several said. "That's where the Penetentary [sic] is". Well our trip to this place consumed two days and one night; we arrived there on the 17th.

At Forth Leavenworth

Fort Leavenworth was strictly an old military town, rows of big brick barracks three stories high and perhaps 50 years old. These were well furnished, modern and up-to-date, steam heat, hard wood floors, etc. Oh, boy, we thought, "This is going to be the life." Here we were kept busy for several days, taking shots for this and that, also vaccinated and it seemed that every Dr. you went to was armed with an epidermic needle ready to give you a shot for something or other. We were served very good eats at one of the several big brick mess halls; what we had was good but very little of it. This humdrum passed by after several days and finally we were called out to line up and get our uniforms. This turned out to be some great feature. We formed a line and passed through a building, the quartermaster's office and as we walked by a long counter where several men in uniforms stood, each one threw or handed you a piece of your olive drab duds; one a shirt, then another a trouser, one a pair of shoes, another a jacket and so on until you had your outfit. Then we were marched out and into a large one room building, turned loose and told to dress up. Well, you should have seen the fits and misfits, it sure was a darb. If you ever did any trading and swapping you did it here. There were some three hundred of us and we finally emerged dressed up in our first U.S. duds - what a sight. We were given sort of a barracks bad to pack our civilian clothes in to send "back home" and there were several fellows armed with pencil and paper taking your names and ones of whom you wanted them sent to. They charged each of us a "buck" and not only us but several others found out weeks later that our personals never did reach home. Some graft.

After a few days, we got our first try at "K.P.". Well we washed, scrubbed, and polished pots and kettles 'til they shined like a nigger's heel.

A few more shots, and by now our arms were just about air conditioned and did the old vaccination ever take ahold. We were lucky to be able to lift our arm, let alone use it.

Very early one morning about 3 a.m. the old bugle blew and we were ordered to dress in full regalia and get out in formation. This we did and stood until nearly 7 a.m. going through the process of splitting up. There were over 400 of us in line, a big old Irish Capt. held in his hand all our names in alphabetical order. He'd call out a name in "A", he'd step one pace forward and then he'd blat out some name in "B", forward he'd go. Then to "C" and so on until he reached the "Z" zone. Then over again. After he'd gone through the process several times he decided to quit and the result was, those that stepped forward were in one bunch and the balance left was in another.

The Split-Up

When we rallied and came to, we found that there were 220 in one crowd and 210 in the other. We were now separated. H.M. Sagvold, Henry Hookenson, Clyde Duty, Earl Sannes, Percy Carter, Armstrong, Hoy and Ankerfelt billed for Camp Devins, Mass. and the balance of us to go to Camp Dix, New Jersey.

We were dismissed, told to go eat breakfast, then report to our barracks for issue of blankets, a few toilet articles and when this was done we were marched a mile or so to the depot where a sixteen coach troop train awaited us. These were very fine sleeper coaches, four of which were baggage cars to carry our eats and other paraphenalia[sic] in.

Finally we all got aboard and somewhat settled, then "toot toot" and were off. Bye, bye Leavenworth.

On to Dix and Devins

It was to be exact 11:40 a.m. on Feb. 24th when we headed eastward out of the Ft. We traveled through some of the prettiest country we've ever seen and did we hit the breeze. We had the right of way, all other trains side-tracked for us. We only stopped now and then for coal or water. Our first real stop was at Mendota, Iowa, a most beautiful town and country. Several hundred natives were on the depot platoform; we suppose many of them were perhaps looking for someone they knew or some relative in this bunch.

We were ordered off the train, formed a line four deep and headed up through town on a two mile hike, a sort of a limber-up process which did do us good, fresh air and to take some of the cramped situation out of our anatomy. This process took about an hour and a half, then back to our coaches and seats and were on our way again. We went through this procedure two other times enroute, and our big-time stop was when we hit Chicago, arriving there at about dusk on the 26th. We were told to get off, go anywhere we wanted to but to be back at 11:30 that night, "And", said our Captain, "That don't mean 11:25 nor 11:35. That means 11:30."

Did we go places? Well, I guess so. Most of us went to a show, some to dances, some for a big feed. Well, we made good use of our 5-1/2 hours. At the appointed hour we were all back and "honky dory" in the big waiting room of the Union Depot, then we were told we had again split up here. Those assigned to Devins were to leave later and now we were soon to pull out, headed for our N.J. Dix. We got busy, hunted up in the crowd our folks that left from Lisbon, a good old handshake, a fond goodbye and then to board the train, get settled and onward again. That was Chicago.

Lake Michigan and the Mountains

Early next morning we found ourselves speeding along the east coast of this big lake, largest of the great lakes. We left the beautiful scenery behind in the early forenoon and headed due east. One or two other stops for our usual exercises and then no stopping for water. This was taken on the go, while coaling required a stop. We were double and tripple [sic] railroad tracks now and on the New York Central Railway. Early in the afternoon those chain of Appalachian Mountains loomed up and towards four o'clock that afternoon we entered the tunnel and emerged on the eastern side of these great monarchs. Here the scenery was just simply grand, woods, forests, etc. and towns were all large but old fashioned and everything seemed away behind the times to what the west was. We were speeding through Pennsylvania now and soon we are to be in New Jersey.

Camp Dix, N.J.

On the early forenoon of March 28th we arrived at Wrightstown, N.J. Here we stepped off our train and loaded into several big army trucks and off we went, those three miles to Camp Dix. What a sight greeted our eyes, mud and plenty of it, very poor roads, plank board walks. The barracks were newly erected and it seemed as though whoever built them had simply stuck up a bunch of 2x4 studdings, held up a board, let the wind take it out of their hands and whereever it hit they nailed it in said place. One of these was our home from then on until late in may when we left for "overseas". Well, it sure looked dreary but we soon got used to it. This condition of affairs was not allowed to exist very long for by the time we had learned to do squads right about without forgetting which was the column was moving, Camp Dix commenced to show a wonderful array of barracks with streets and sewers laid out in most efficient manner. This was all due to the efforts of all us new soldiers who toiled early and late in the great transformation. At last these barracks and all were wonderful and a tentable place for the embryo army that was then pouring in, wearing the ribbon of local draft board number whatsis.

We, upon arrival here, were assigned to Co. "C" 303 Field Signal Battalion and of the 78th Lightning Division. After the third week or so in Dix there was one thing looked forward to more than anything else. Week-end passes were issued so that from Saturday noon to Monday morning those living near Dix could spend the weekend at home. Nearly everyone went until the arrival of Major James Kelley who proceeded to cut the passes down so that one got a pass not oftener than once a month. At the end of April most of us were all well fed up on drill and training and full of desire to go anywhere just to get away from the hum-drum of camp. Some of the boys triled out the precarious A.W.O.L. stunt, with the result that pay-day held small meaning for them for several months, and in connection recieved plenty of K.P. and guard duty.

In early May the camp was quarantined on account of an epidemic of measles. The Y.M.C.A.'s and Red Cross were closed, no one was permitted to leave camp era [sic?] and even the old pasttime of going to Wrightstown to be burglarized was tabooed. The last day of quarantine was duly celebrated by a grand exodus from camp then set in; Wrightstown being the mecca for most of us and that little town of less than half a dozen blocks in size was greatly over-crowded with twenty to twenty-five thousand men trying to get into the stores and other various places of amusement at the same time. The shop and store keepers hailed this liberation with glee. Had not all these men more or less money to spend, and was not Wrightstown the only place to spend it? "oy! oy! Raise der prices kvick, Ikey." They were some prices: twenty-five cents for a whisk broom or a soap box that cost a nickel or dime at home, and six to ten cents for a cake of five cent soap made you desire muchly to get some of those highway robbers by the neck, lead them to a mustering officer and thence to a rookie squad, where they would be taught the gentle art of shoveling mud for Uncle Sam at one dollar per day less insurance, liberty bond and allotment money. After a month of this they should be marched to Wrightstown with a month's pay in their pockets to discover how little those burglars would give them for their month's pay.

However there was one place in town that was a contrast to all the rest. It was called the Hoversack. This was a soldier's club conducted by a Miss Durgin from East Orange N.J. and there were also five other ladies to assist her. These folks never seemed to tire of serving ice cream, coffee, pie and cake to a never-ending stream of us men from Dix and their prices were very reasonable. There were also plenty of reading material and plenty of reading rooms, tables, etc. and all kinds of musical instruments. This Hoversack did much to make life at Dix more endurable.

Came May 15th, we were issued full "overseas" equipment, confined to barracks and battalion era, given warning not to talk about any movement on our part in our letters home and elsewhere. Our outfit had been ordered to move once before but as usual the next day the order was changed. We were getting tired of these rumors and signs, not even if the leaves turn the white side, the sky turns black and the chickens hunt cover, we refuse to believe in signs.

Very early on the morning of May 26th, 1918, we were awakened by the bugar, ordered to pick up for immediate movement; we had a quick snack of bacon, pancakes and coffee, rushed into formation, given a short lecture on what was to happen. We then marched to Wrightstown, boarded a train, took a farewell look at Dix and the town and on our way to Jersey City, N.J. A ferry carried us to Brooklyn and unloaded us at the pier. We embarked from there. An hour or so later we were on the lower deck of the H.M.S. Toloa, a former fruiter and cattle boat owned by some fruit company, but then masquerading as a King's transport. At 6 o'clock the next morning the Toloa slipped past the Statue of Liberty in a heavy fog and waited outside the harbor for the rest of the convoy and upon its arrival, started her zig-zag course across the Atlantic.

All on deck that could get there, we stood silently at the ship's railing, some with tears in their eyes, some smiling slightly, others laughing somewhat, but for the most part they were silent. Thus we looked and gazed at the receeding view of New York City, New York and that great and beautiful edifice, the Statue of Liberty.