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To Liverpool, England.

             At Last when the dawn of June 3^rd 1918 opened we were in readiness to aboard the train for New York City. Out company had been entertained by continuous rumor about our place of arrival in New York. The majority of our group started with the idea that we would remain at Hoboken, New Jersey until we sailed, which as will be seen later was another wild story.

That morning of June 3^rd was a busy morning. Our boxes and barrack bags were all piled outside ready for the trucks to haul them to the train. The barracks were swept and our packs were gotten ready to sling over our shoulders

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 at any minute at the order of march. [Inserted–] The sign “TO vent” [MSC—not clear] In speaking of cleaning the barracks, I should not neglect a word concerning our care in always cleaning and keeping barracks and roads clean after us. Our artillery regiment had this good name of being very particular in this respect.

The colonel with his adjutant finally came about that morning, gave us an inspection and inquired of each individual if he was ready to go. Of course every man responded affirmatively. Who would have the nerve to step out in front of that company and say that he was not ready, after he had trained for nine months with that same

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group of men. I think that I am speaking for the whole group of boys when I say that we were ready—not only ready but willing. The boys would have been sadly disappointed had they missed the opportunity of crossing the sea.

After the Colonel inspected, the order march was given and we went directly to the train, which was in readiness for us on the track. All our seats were numbered and our names were written on or near each seat.

The sergeant was to have a seat to himself. As a rule sergeants in the U.S. army are treated just about the same by an officer as a private, and as a full

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fledged American, I believe that is as it should be. The thing to be despised worst in the army is that thing relegated from medieval times, which we call class. I which that we might have an army without that word.

           In some respects the army is very democratic, in others it is very aristocratic. It is democratic, because every one when he is drafted or enlists is placed upon an equal basis. A common bum wears the same colored and the same priced suit as the millionaire—again that is as it should be, but just as soon as we cross the borderline in to the commissioned class, that democracy ceases and then aristocracy creeps in. They claim

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 that it is necessary for discipline. That may be, but it is the most cutting thing to an American to withstand, that is to respect and obey a young man with bars on his shoulder, who perhaps was the employee of the private (American) [army?—msc] before the war. However, we can say that in most respects there was and is closer contact between the enlisted men and the commissioned officers than in any other army, unless it be the Canadian.

           We were disappointed that morning. Our train did not suit us. There were no sleeping cars save one and it was for the officers in charge. Surely there had been a mistake! We were to travel three days without sleep. Oh! well we

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 later in our army experience that we were treated like lords on that trip.

            Our departure from camp was in some respects a sad one. We knew that our week end passes had come to an end, and that probably we would never see our people again before the war ended. Very few of us ever dreamed but what we would come back. If we look at the army statistics and note the casualties we will notice that the names recorded there are many in comparison to the time we were in the fight. We Knew, though that those who died  did not do so in vain—rather the opposite. We were not permitted to  Friends were not permitted to visit the leaving trains.

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As the engine began to puff yells of joy were heard from most of the boys who were on the train. Every one seemed happy they were soldiers. The train windows were open. The boys were anxious that they be seen by those along the road. They were all proud men and had a right to be.

             All along our journey we were conscious of the fact that the people were with us. All the pretty girls, the old ladies, the men young and old along the way shouted and watched our train until it proceeded from their sight. Many were the men I saw who the minute he saw out troup train would cease their work, take their hats off and shout words of encouragement and good

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cheer. I remember one old gentleman who was working in the fields of New York. He was hoeing corn. The minute he saw us he dropped his hoe, threw his hat in the air and cheered us as long as we could see him. I thot to myself “that man surely has a son in the army,” or perhaps he may be a Civil War veteran.

            You know a Civil War veteran has more feeling for a soldier than most Americans, because he has more experience in common with them. They can understand the hardships of a soldier better than the average civilian. More attention more tribute should be paid these old patriots and veterans than is paid to them. I do

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 not know how it is all over America, but I do know the condition in many parts that I have visited, but as a general rule it is difficult even to have a respectable group to help these old men do honor to their dead comrades on Decoration Day. Such a condition should not exist. If anything many of these men suffered more than the majority of the present day warriors.

            We did not go hungry on this trip thru to the coast. In fact we had to much to eat. We had a good mess sergeant and he saw to it that we had enough grub prepared for our journey. In addition to all this the Red Cross societies would give us sandwitches, coffee cakes etc. One particular place

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one that I shall always remember is Rochester New York. The Red Cross Organization, there as it always is was thoroughly efficient in their work. They were so liberal with their “eats” that we really had too much. We were so well pleased that we wrote a letter of thanks to the leader of that organization. Since that we have had occasions time and again to thank these good people for the work that they did for the boys in France.

Through town after town we traveled. All were tired. We were crowded in the cars. We got all the sleep possible. Card games and reading furnished amusement for the men. Many letters of farewell were

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also written. We had been cautioned from time to time by our officers about disclosing our intention of leaving camp soon. Not a word was to be written about the time of our departure for the coast. However after we were on our way permission was given to write and tell the home folks that we had started towards France. We thought, at least we were going to France. Some said we might go to Italy… Nobody knows anything definite in the army. Sometimes the Private knows more than the general about the planning of troop movement, however that is rare. There is a [‘n’ appears to be crossed out] old familiar saying in the army that an order is never given unless a counter order follows, and that is true [trouble reading last word].

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            We finally arrived at a little town outside of New York City. I have forgotten the name. There we halted until about 12 o’clock at night. We wanted to enter New York or Jersey City early in the morning. I do not know the reason, unless we were ahead of our schedule. Perhaps they objected to our entering the city at night [other constructions possible]. Our entertainment there. Our walks occasional.

Any how we arrived in Jersey City on the morning of June 5^th. There was a boat was waiting to transport us to the Island. Many of us paid our first and last respects to the Statue of Liberty that morning.

The music of our band—the band accompanied us the entire route to France–

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comes back to me. As we followed the Hudson, the band played the old familiar tune of Sailing, Sailing Over the Deep Blue Sea” and “The Yanks are coming.” The band helped to keep us in good spirits all along the way.

We landed on the Island about noon of June 5^th  [Battery D says 6-4]. From there we proceeded by train to Camp Mills, Hempstead New York.

This was only a temporary camp, fitted for troops who were making ready to embark eastward. Some of the boys were not adequately clothed and here the issue of clothing for overseas duty was completed insofar as possible.

There were no permanent

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barracks here. We lived in squad tents. This experience was new to some of the boys. Of course the majority of the men were housed under canvass while at the artillery range at Pride, Ohio. This town was located about 12 miles from Chillicothe and all our target practicing in artillery was done there. The town itself needs no description because there was no town there save two or three houses. It is one of the most desolate places on earth. [in margin] Only the smiling face of the grocer’s daughters tended to enlighten the dreary place, and a couple or three sergeants [?] had a monopoly on them. [in other margin] It would be an ideal setting of a “movie” with Fatty Arbuckle.

We were certainly sure of leaving Camp Mills soon. All the work of preparation for sailing was hurried. Many inspections were made to determine whether or not the lads had all the necessary clothing.

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Passes were given to many to visit N.Y. City. I imagine that many of our boys visited the city without passes. The military police were not strict in New York at this time, and one was not running as much risk he some took when they later visited Paris. I remember that our company cook took a trip to New York without permission and he was detected in some way and placed under arrest. He was very soon released. We could not do without our head cook.

I know a few who went AWOL in N.Y. while we were at Camp Mills who were not caught. I know that I was one among many. I went Saturday morning and did not

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return till twelve that night, and an certainly glad I did since the passes were stopped the following day. I might say that it is generally considered an honor to do the thing forbidden in the army, providing you are not caught doing it. If everyone were punished who disobey the laws as laid down in the army law book, surely all the officers and men would have charges preferred against them.

It seemed that our entire journey to France and yes to the Rhine, it was one predetermined program of our leaders not to take the troops through a large city. Just about as we were nearing a city we would begin to turn to the right or left of it. There were many reasons for such planning, and I suppose one of the great reasons were due to the prevalent congestion in cities. Perhaps better time could be made by going around such a city. Then too it would be dangerous to take the boys thru the cities, since they might drop off, get tired and be lost.

We were instructed at this place to have our mail addressed in the following manner:

Private Andrew Jones

324 Heavy Field Artillery

American Expeditionary Force

Via New York City

At last June eleventh found us breaking up camp. Orders were given to make ready to make a quick departure to the transport.

[end of document]

Camp Mills

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Camp Mills was a military installation on Long Island, New York. It was located about ten miles from the eastern boundary of New York City on the Hempstead Plains near Garden City.

It was named in honor of Major General Albert L. Mills, who was awarded the Medal of Honor for gallantry during the Spanish-American War. Initially it was established as temporary tent camp in September 1917 as a place to mobilize the 42nd Division, made up of National Guard units from various states. After the 42nd left for the Western Front in France, the 41st Division followed, occupying the camp from October to November 1917. It was then ordered to be abandoned, but reestablished April 4, 1918, as a part of the Port of Embarkation at Hoboken, New Jersey for troops in transit, working as such until Armistice Day, November 11, 1918. It was then used as a point of debarkation for those returning from Europe. In 1919, the camp was ordered to be abandoned and sold, although operations continued until March 31, 1920, when garrison troops were transferred elsewhere. In 1938 Camp Mills was incorporated into Mitchel Field as part of an Air Corps expansion.

A monument to the Rainbow Division in Garden City near the site of Camp Mills was restored and then rededicated on November 11, 2004.

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References

▪   Swanson, Robert Domestic United States Military Facilities of the First World War 1917-1919

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External links

▪   Long Island Studies Institute

▪   UNH: Historic USGS Map “Camp Mills Quadrangle”, Surveyed 1897 (southeast quadrant)

Coordinates: 40°43′28″N 73°36′38″W

Categories: ‪Military facilities in New York | ‪United States Army stubs | ‪Fortification stubs

Rochester N.Y.

On way to Liverpool

1. Train disappointment
2. The greeting of people all along the way
3.  Our stop over at the little town until daylight
4. Trip down through N.Y.
5.  Arrival in Jersey City
6. Trip on the Boat for Long Island and thence to Camp Mills