History of Ambulance Company Number 139

The train traveled along a beautiful tree-lined canal for a long distance. Barges on the canal were for the most part drawn by horses, but occasionally we would see very small burros pulling them. Each barge appeared to be a home, for family washings were hanging out on a great many of them.

We arrived at Dijon about 1 A. M. October 28th, and marched across the city wheeling rations on two-wheeled baggage trucks which were "borrowed" at the railroad station. We stayed the balance of the night at a French Permissionares Barrack, and spent the following day looking around the numerous parks and squares. While in the Permissionares barracks, one of our boys inquired of another, "Who are those 'birds' in French uniforms wearing those four-cornered caps?" Before the question could be answered, the French-uniformed person replied, in English, "We are of the Polish Legion. My home is in Chicago."

That evening we entrained again, and after an uneventful ride, arrived at Lyons at 7 A. M. the next morning. After a wait at the station of about two hours, we marched to some barracks which were surrounded by a high board fence. The city being quarantined on account of the influenza, we were not allowed outside of the enclosure except to go to the wash-house, about a hundred yards distant. Between the gate of the enclosure and the wash-house was a "boozerie," consequently there were a great many men who wanted to wash.

Just before leaving Lyons that evening, a doughboy "promoted" a large crate of grapes from a shipment on the station platform. At daylight the following morning we were traveling through a rather sandy country, with vineyards on both sides of the track. Then for a long distance there were Larch trees planted along the track, so close together that it was impossible to see beyond them. Later in the day we traveled along the shore of Etyde Berre Sea, with its many rice plantations, and multitude of wild ducks, then through a tunnel about two kilos long, through large groves of fig trees, finally arriving at Marseilles about noon.

Our packs were hauled in trucks to the Motor Reception Park while the men marched, giving us an opportunity to see the many fruit peddlers, the numerous fountains and squares, and the dirty, narrow streets of the city. Upon our arrival at the Motor Reception Park we were assigned to billets in French buildings. We spent the afternoon cleaning up, eating fruit purchased from peddlers, and selling all kinds of little trinkets to the S. O. S. men as German souvenirs, and explaining to them who "won the war." In the evening we were given passes into Marseilles, good until midnight. Some went to the theatre staging a burlesque show, which was very similar to an American show. Others went around the town, to the water front, and sampled all of the fruits available, none of which are as good as the fruits which can be procured in American cities. However, we found Marseilles a cosmopolitan city, both in regard to civilians and soldiers. The main streets were very much like the streets of an American city.

Early in the afternoon of October 31st we were marched to the ambulances, and busied ourselves looking over the machines preparing for the start. During the evening we looked around the immediate vicinity of the Motor Park and sampled the vintage of southern France.

At 8:00 A. M., on November 1st, the convoy of 29 ambulances left the park in a gentle shower, but before traveling very far it became a regular cloudburst, with a strong wind. The first day's drive was over very good roads, in a narrow valley, with high, rocky hills and peaks in the distance and an occasional village at the foot of the hills. We stopped the first night just outside of St. Aminol, a very small village, and being the first American soldiers who had stopped near there, we were enthusiastically received by the mademoiselles, and invited to visit the town.

During the next day we passed through Avignon, where we were given flowers by French children. We crossed several suspension bridges over streams flowing into the Rhone River, and drove for miles through vineyards, with their beautiful red and yellow leaves. We saw many wine presses, most of which were operated by women, in fact a greater part of the manual labor was done by the women. We stopped for the night near Valence, a city of many narrow crooked streets, beautiful squares and fountains. We saw there many patterns of Val lace.

Leaving Valence at 7 A. M. November 3rd, we passed through St. Symphone on a market day. The farm products and animals were lined up along the street; vegetables piled on the sidewalk, while the pigs, geese and calves were in excelsior-lined crates and baskets. We arrived at Lyons in the afternoon and drove down one of the main streets – and it was agreed by all that they had never seen so many beautiful ladies in a similar length of time, not even in America. We stopped for the night at a French Barracks, another prison, the city still being under quarantine. Lyons is built at the junction of the Rhone and Prome rivers, the different parts of the city being connected by many bridges, one the Pont du President Wilson, which was dedicated July 14th, 1918.

It was raining when we left Lyons the next morning, and the roads were very rough. As it was necessary to have the curtains of the ambulances up all day, we could see very little of the country until we got to Dijon, where we stopped for the night. From Dijon, we traveled over fairly good roads through a rolling country similar to Kansas, stopping on the night of November 5th at Chaumont, at which place is located Headquarters, A. E. F.

We left Chaumont at 7:30 A. M. on November 6th, passing through Langres with its fort. By afternoon we had arrived back to the part of the country which was strewn with barbed wire entanglements, trenches and other preparations for combat, and late in the evening arrived at Fontaine Brilliante.

Had we never seen any of France but the northern devastated part, we would have always wondered why the French fought so hard, but now we can easily see the reason.

A CASUAL IN THE S. O. S

Upon the conclusion of the 139th Amb. Co.'s part in the Argonne drive, the company was assembled at Neuvilly. Here, orders were given for all men who needed medical attention to report for examination, and the Casual, after living on corn beef and hard tack once a day, no sleep to speak of, and some experience with gas, concluded that he needed an overhauling. Accordingly he went before the M. D., was sentenced to the field hospital, and there being no field hospital in action, was sent to Evacuation No. 9 at Vaubecourt.

The journey was made by ambulance and, upon his arrival he was taken to the receiving ward. Here he was given a hot cup of cocoa by the Red Cross girls, and a new diagnosis tag in exchange for the one he was wearing. His helmet and gas mask were discarded since they could not be of much benefit, and he was assigned a bed in Ward No. 40.

Here he lay for two days, waiting for his turn to go to the Base. The bed felt good to his weary bones after months of no bed at all to speak of. He let his mind wander to various subjects that he had been wanting to think of for two weeks, but could not for fear of that soul disturbing cry "gas!" He wondered why that shell that had distributed a mule all over the landscape, had not distributed him instead, in the same manner, and thanked the Lord that he was evidently considered of more value than the mule. The third day found him on a French hospital train, where he lived on French rations (including Vin Blanc) for two days and one night. The evening of the second day found him at Neuves. The trip was featured by the unsuccessful effort of the M. P's. to protect the fine French vineyards from being ravaged by such of the invalids as were not too sick to walk around. After all, it was a long time since they had eaten grapes, for one does not pick grapes on the front line and one used to living in that atmosphere is troubled by more serious thoughts than property rights. When he got to Neuves he was to be put through another receiving ward where the serious cases were marked with a red tag, which means immediate attention. Not being so badly off, the Casual was relieved of what clothes he still possessed and everything else except personal articles. Next, came a bath and a suit of pajamas and then, bed.

When he had gotten off the train those gallant heroes, the pirates of the S. O. S. had immediately fallen on him tooth and nail, hammer and tongs for anything in the line of souvenirs that he was likely to have on his person. Having risked a great deal of his future in obtaining these little remembrances of the Hun, he was quite naturally not very much excited over the idea of getting rid of them, and especially to people only by risking their reputation in trying to part a war-worn Sammie from his only reminders of the fight. So he stood his ground until he fell into the hands of the lieutenants of the receiving ward from whom there is no escape. Here he was separated from all his treasures with no regard whatsoever, for even common decency. He only hopes he will meet and recognize them on the other shore, especially if he could come upon them relating the story of their capture.

After the Casual was safely in bed, the ward master made a record of the principal parts of his past life, which is called a "Clinical Record." Next, a physical examination by the M. D. in charge who prescribed the treatment. The man in the next car was suffering from a fractured leg and in much pain, but he remarked to the Casual that he was glad that he seemed to be getting reasonable treatment, for some places he would have been given two O. D. pills and told to report for duty.

The Casual was put in Class C and had an in and out life of it. The food was good but very little of it, at least, to a man with an appetite. Occasionally there was a battle royal when enough parties had saved up sufficient prune seeds to make an effective barrage, but when there were no prune seeds, the time passed very slowly. The Casual went from Class C to Class B in two weeks, and three weeks more of it found him ready to depart for a Replacement Camp. When this time came, he was issued a new outfit and put in a bunch of 40 men who were under the tender care of a sergeant. That worthy one drew the rations and marched the detail to the train. Side door Pullmans, this time. Quite different from first class. Here the motto "Cheveaux 8, Hommes 40" was faithfully lived up to, but the Casual thought the 40 hommes was a great deal over estimated. The seating proved uncomfortable, so with much labor, seats were built around the sides and through the center from stones and lumber, policed from an American yard. Immediately after the job was done, an officer entered and informed the sergeant that all the material policed should be considered under the order of "As You Were." But he did not wait to see if his orders were carried out, and the works were camouflaged with blankets. However, the suspense proved too great, and the stuff was returned for fear of the consequences. It is worthy of note that the car was never inspected.

The train started, snail fashion, after the manner of French trains and at one of the stops, a vin barrel was tapped, to the benefit of all concerned in the tapping. The destination proved to be Toul, where the Casual was put in a company and given the rest of his equipment and was on his way back to his company the next day.

An hour and a half later, he pulled in after an eight kilo hike, glad to be home and ready to eat some of the good old steaks. No more casual life for him.

PERSHING REVIEWS THE 35th DIVISION

No day could have been more typical of France than the day of the Divisional Review, Monday, February 17th, 1919. There was a steady fall of rain, and the low-scudding clouds threw a dampened aspect upon the scene.

The Sanitary Train, led by Maj. Oliver C. Gebhart, left Aulnois at 10:00 A. M. The distance of ten kilometers to the reviewing field between the villages of Vignot and Boncourt was made under every disadvantage of muddy roads and the heavy pour of rain. The field itself, located on a broad stretch of the Meuse basin, was mush-like with mire and patched with pools of water.

General Pershing, with the Prince of Wales, rode onto the field at 1:30 o'clock, while the entire division stood at attention. The salute to the Commander-in-Chief was played by a detachment of picked buglers, and as the General and his party rode around the entire division from right to left, the band, stationed on the right, rendered "God Save the King," in honor of England's young prince.

The columns of the Division were drawn up into platoon fronts, the Sanitary Train being stationed between the Artillery, on the left, and the Machine Gun, Signal Corps and Infantry Regiments on the right. After riding around the Division, General Pershing and his party personally inspected each platoon, winding back and forth, asking questions of the company commanders and speaking with the men.

Having completed the personal inspection, the General and his party took position in the reviewing stand on the right. At the command "Pass in Review" by the Division Commander, each battalion executed successively "Squads Right," and swept down the field in a line of platoons. It was indeed a most impressive sight, and, although the sky was cast heavy with low-hanging clouds, the sun, as if to lend color to an already beautiful picture, broke through and shone for a few moments. Then, as each column swung out upon its own way home, the rain began again. As the last regiment passed in review, the Division was halted while the General and Prince spoke a few words of praise for the splendid showing of the Division, and of its work in battle.

Although participation in this great event required that the men wear full packs for almost nine hours without removing them, and undergo a hike of twenty kilos in the rain, not a man regretted the experience. It will be long remembered with pride by those who took part.

FROM COUSANCES TO AULNOIS

The signing of the Armistice on November 11th, left the company at Cousances, occupying an old, dismantled factory. It was a most unsatisfactory place and there were practically no accommodations of any kind. Winter was upon us. The open barn lofts were too breezy for comfort, and there existed a little feeling of uneasiness, as days passed by and still we did not move.

After a couple of weeks, however, we packed up and moved to the small village of Ernecourt, situated about 12 kilos southeast of Cousances. Remaining here for only a few days, we again moved on to Aulnois, where the remainder of the time in this area was spent.

THE HOME GOING

Aulnois may have been a disappointment or the men may have thought it satisfactory. Anyway, when the Sanitary Train moved into its area it was a typical example of many of the other villages that they had found over-run with dirt and French children.

It was not long after their cow-shed and hay-loft billets were made as comfortable as possible, until the full force was out with brooms, shovels and trucks, and soon the village took on an altogether different appearance. The natives no doubt imagined that these veterans were a Brigade of White Wings, or perhaps some Convict Labor Battalion and perhaps they failed to appreciate the work, even after their little "burg" was transformed into a decent place in which to dwell. Well, "san-ferrie-Anne," this was the Sanitary Train, the 110th, at that.

Three months were the people of the village honored with the presence of this hearty crew, and ere the end of the first month, they had decided that the Americans were not so barbarious after all, and began to feel content as the nice shining francs jingled in their jeans. The farmers foresaw the necessity of doubling the next year's crop of Pomm-de-terres, and the breweries of Commercy and Bar-le-Duc wondered at the enormous consumption of their bottled products.

Still, after all, the stay in this area was very different from what those on furloughs found at Aix-les-Bains, who, upon returning, usually suffered an attack of the blues. Each company had work to do. The Field Hospitals occupied the buildings on the hill just above the town and were working day and night. The ambulance companies were evacuating the entire Division, and the efficiency with which both performed their duties was known throughout the Divisional area.

There are a few things that will tend to remind the men of the company of their stay here, in the days when all incidents of the A. E. F. will be pleasant memories. Christmas, and the dawning of the New Year were celebrated here. These events are made more memorable because of one fact, if no other; the cooks went out of their way to prepare the dishes that, standing out above all else in the Christmas spirit of the Yank, are to him ever associated with home, a full stomach and celebrations. Colonel Wooley left the train for another command, and Madam Bon left her establishment among the boys and was married. However, she continued to sell a few bottles of beer after closing hours.

It was while here in Aulnois that the Commanding General of the A. E. F., accompanied by the Prince of Wales, reviewed the Division. And last, but by no means least, the long expected news reached us that the old 35th Division was ordered home. Accordingly, though sometime later, preparations for the first move were began, and on the evening of the 9th of March, the men bade farewell to the little village, and climbed aboard boxcars for the long ride to the Le Mans Embarkation Area.

FROM AULNOIS TO "CIVIES"

It was with a willing hand and a happy heart that we prepared to leave Aulnois-Sous-Vertuzey, where we had spent a "weary waiting period" of over three months, and when the evening of March 9th rolled around, we were all packed up and "rearin' to go." All medical property, extra clothing, etc., had been turned in, so that there was very little to pack except the office records and our personal belongings. Of this we were duly thankful.

We entrained at Lerouville at 2 o'clock on the morning of March 10th, bound for St. Corneille, in the Le Mans area, riding as usual in box cars. The trip was characteristic of French train service – SLOW – in fact on the second day of the trip we only made about 12 miles the whole day. We finally arrived at St. Corneille, a clean little French village, on the 13th, and for the next three weeks "waited" some more. The only part of the company who were busy was the office force, and they were exceedingly so, for there were passenger lists to be made out, besides innumerable other rosters and reports. Of course there were the usual physical examinations, "cootie" inspections, and a "shot in the arm," and these things helped to occupy our time.

Our next lap toward home started on April 5th, and the next morning found us at the immense camp of St. Nazaire, our Port of Embarkation. What a thrill went through us as we looked out onto the ocean again, especially when we knew that we were soon to cross the gang-plank, "the bridge whose western end is America!" It must be said here that St. Nazaire is a wonderfully efficient camp. For instance, each kitchen in the camp can feed as many as ten thousand men in a little more than an hour's time. At this camp we were examined and de-cootieized some more, but our stay was short, and on April 12th we glued our eyes on the bulletin board, which read "110th Sanitary Train embarks at 11:30 A. M., April 14th, U. S. S. Antigone." That was "the thrill that comes once in a lifetime."

On the dock, before embarking, we were treated to hot chocolate, cookies and tobacco by the "Y" girls. Then the time that we had been waiting for for eleven months came, and we crossed the gang-plank "Homeward Bound." On account of storms just off the coast, our start was delayed until 3 A. M. on April 16th, and when we awoke that morning we were almost out of sight of land. Strange to say, there were no "heartaches" when "Sunny France" faded away behind us, for ahead of us was "God's Country," the land where mothers, fathers, wives and sweethearts were waiting for us. That first day out was a memorable one for most of us. The sea was rough, and that evening no one doubted but that every fish in the vicinity of the ship went to sleep with his hunger entirely appeased. Nothing more needs to be said. By the next morning the sea had calmed down, and the remainder of the voyage was a delightful one, with clear skies and bright sunshine. The "Y," Red Cross and Knights of Columbus assisted a great deal in making the trip a pleasant one, by distributing fruit, candy, magazines and books, and with a "movie" show every evening. The men were allowed to take trips down into the engine room, which was indeed an interesting and instructive sight.

Early on the morning of Sunday, April 27th, we steamed up Hampton Roads, at Newport News, Virginia, and at about 10:30 once more planted our feet on the soil of "Uncle Sam." The streets of Newport News were lined with people as we marched from the dock to Camp Stuart, about five miles away, and as one fellow remarked, "I saw more good looking girls on that march than during my whole time in France." Here's to the United States and her people, for there's no others like them.

The greater part of our four days at Camp Stuart was spent in getting new clothing, for every soldier was newly outfitted from head to foot before he left that camp. So it was a spic and span company that boarded the train on Friday afternoon, May 2, bound for Camp Funston, our demobilization camp. That is, there were about seventy of the company to go to Camp Funston, for the company was separated at Camp Stuart, and each man was sent to the demobilization camp nearest his home. The homes of many of our replacements were in the East. The trip across the states in that fast American train was an enjoyable one, especially so because of the reception given us by the people at the cities where we stopped. At each large city a Red Cross canteen entertained us with homemade sandwiches, coffee and pie. Some entertainment.

Our trip across the States took us via West Virginia, Cincinnati, Indianapolis and Chicago. Late on the afternoon of Sunday, May 4th, we left Chicago for Kansas City, and it was then that our hearts started to miss a beat now and then, for we were getting close to home. What a sight greeted our eyes as the train drew into the station at Second and Washington, Kansas City, Kansas. The station platform was a solid mass of people, each one trying to pour out a larger amount of "greeting" than anyone else. When the train finally stopped and we piled out – well, no words can tell what that reunion meant. Each fellow and his folks know. We stayed at Kansas City about four hours, and during that time, besides visiting our folks, our mothers gave us a delightful breakfast at the Masonic Temple, with a dance afterwards. Then we went on to Camp Funston, stopping several hours at Topeka, where a number of the men lived.

Our stay at Funston was short, but strenuous. We were not allowed to leave our barrack, for there were a thousand and one different papers, it seemed, that each man had to sign. Then, too, we turned in our pack, and all other equipment except our clothing and personal effects.

It was a wonderful feeling when, on the morning of May 9th, 1919, just a year to the day from the time we left Camp Doniphan for overseas service, we marched up to the Personnel Office to receive our discharges. We could hardly believe it was true. We filed in – soldiers, and a few minutes later came out – civilians.

We're glad we served our country when she needed us, and we're glad "it's over over there." It's just as many an A. E. F. man has said, "We wouldn't take a million dollars for our experiences over there, but we wouldn't give a nickel with a hole in it for any more like them."

FICKLE WOMEN

It either was Tom Keene, Henry George or some other good nickel seller that once said, "Women thou art fickle things," and to come right down to it the old boy was about right. Even in this war we have found that the fair sex is not overcoming this weakness, in fact woman today is worse than she was yesterday.

In the days of old the men would do daring acts to win the hand of fair lady. If he went on a crusade and brought back a string of dragon heads she would marry him. They would live happily till some other daredevil comes along with long wavy hair and two strings of dragon heads. Right away friend wife drops a Sedlitz powder in his "vin-rouge." A few days finds hubby pushing up daisies and the handsome stranger is seen playing a guitar under the widow's window, she encouraging him by dropping roses.