Chapter Ten Hoboken

The light of the full moon reflected brightly on the rippling currents of the black river. Bill did not know what time it was. After a late night of cards with some of the other men, in which his luck had proved consistently bad, he had been asleep until minutes earlier. He had stowed his watch and his empty wallet before turning in hours before. When the steady movement and predictable rhythm of the train slowed and then came to a stop he peered out his Pullman car window. Floodlights illuminated heavy equipment and a barge while people who looked the size of flies in the distance milled about as a behemoth platform ship pushed itself into its moorings. He heard the hollow thuds that came from the barge bumping against the landing. Steam engines roared mournfully like the rumbling bowels of a steel factory. A train engine with couplers front and rear belched white clouds of steam and smoke, waiting for the iron harnesses to clasp into place. A shrill whistle filled the night air with an

ungodly, banshee-like shriek. Two tug boats at the side of the ship farthest away from the dock pushed the rear of the ship upstream. The men in Bills cabin felt their car roll backwards when the rear section of their transport train separated from the cars in front of them. The engine on board the barge inched its way up the pier. They heard the loud clanging of iron against iron down the rail. Then the slow sound of the steel wheels against the steel rails screamed, piercing the night air and the dank humidity of the late spring night. The front section of the train made its way across the entire distance of the barge. The barge itself sank no deeper in the water. After nearly two hours of coupling and uncoupling, the pieces of the train finally crossed the GreatRiver and they resumed their journey. It occurred to Bill that for the first time in his entire life he had crossed the Mississippi River. He thought of his own grandparents crossing the country from the opposite direction, driving a team of oxen, thirty-two years before. How curious that they both had crossed the river on a barge, they in their Conestoga wagon with their animals and Bill in such a manner as to conquer technology. He guessed he knew something of the excitement, fear, and anticipation they must have felt on another spring night, alone and surrounded by strangers, all journeying toward some unknown land. He had just crossed the Mississippi River by boat while on board a train. Over the next two days, they passed through railroad towns in the South and then up the Eastern Seacoast, through Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania, New York and New Jersey. In Philadelphia, crowds of children and teenagers lined the tracks watching the troop trains pass. When he thought of it again, Bill jotted a note in the notebook he carried, using the dull stub of a pencil barely long enough to hold in his hand. He wanted a reminder for some future reference. I'll bet Badger and Speck would enjoy the trip along the Pennsylvania Railroad line

from Philadelphia to Tenafly, to see a thousand kids watching for troop trains asking for nickels and dimes even buttons and emblems off your coat dirty and ragged and happy and just about the slums of the world.

The Red Cross ladies greeted the men with donuts and coffee and picture postcards at the depot when they disembarked while the engine was serviced. Missionaries from the Salvation Army handed the soldiers tracts and offered to pray with them for their safety in the months ahead.

Weeks passed and Rosa had no communication from Bill. A 2-cent postcard finally arrived. It bore this imprint at the top of the blank side:
CANTEEN SERVICE, SOUTHEASTERN PENNSYLVANIA CHAPTER, AMERICAN RED CROSS, PHILADELPHIA

Bill scribbled a brief note below which Rosa read Monday Morn Beloved Rose In dear old Philly and feeling great.Have had a nice trip. It is sure a lovely morn makes me think of homewill reach our destination about 4PM. Will write later. Hope you feel as good as I. Bill He dropped the postcard in the mailbox in front of the Western Union Office when the train stopped in Philadelphia. He had had another bad night at the card tables on the train the night before and he found himself with only a few coins left in his pocket, barely enough to send a wire home, asking for money. With what he had and a loan from his old friend and drinking

buddy Sgt. Charlie Hopkins, he stepped into the Western Union office and composed a telegram to his father. JH HOLMES WIRE ME TRACKER NUMBER OF MONEY ORDERS AT ONCE AT MY EXPENSE STOP NEVER RECD IT STOP LETTER FOLLOWS WITH EXPLANATION STOP FEELING GOOD STOP WILL GET YOUR ANSWER IF YOU ADDRESS IT RIGHT STOP HAVE NO MONEY HERE STOP WG HOLMES CO C 9TH FIELD BN SIGNAL CORPS CAMPMERRITT NJ

Back on the train, Bill wrote a rambling letter to his parents which included an explanation for his abrupt plea for money in the telegram he had sent to Langdon. When the telegram arrived in Langdon, Josie opened the envelope with trembling fingers as the delivery man left the stoop. Then she thanked God it did not confirm her greatest fear. Days later, when his promised letter finally arrived, she squinted at Bills letter, jaw muscles twitching under her velvety soft cheeks. Dear Mother and all Well, I hope the telegram caused you no worry for I just have to have money soon. They have a French instructor here who tells you what is necessary and what you can take. If we are here long enough I want to enjoy everything that comes our way. I havent got enough money to get out of camp and no barber work here, so I sure can use some cash. I am in this work whole-hearted and, say, we havent all the privileges you might think

Josie was at once angry and worried at her sons plight. Wiring him money would be a strain, but somehow, not wiring it made her feel unpatriotic, as if for all the sacrifices others had made, this was all that was asked of her. Could she get Bills money out of the Holland woman since the checks were being wrongly sent to her? She would have to ask, no matter how

uncomfortable she felt with the idea. She would talk to Jonas and they would see about it. That boy! How did he get himself into such a predicament? For the time being, Jonas did not think it advisable to involve J.M. and Mrs. Holland, nor their daughter. With cash on hand, he thought they could manage at least this once without taking savings from the bank. So he wired the money, twenty-five dollars, per his sons instructions. Bill picked it up at the Western Union office at CampMerritt. Smiling, he returned to his tent and wrote home. The warm wad of bills in his pocket and thoughts of his family made him feel nostalgic. As he wrote, he pictured his mothers face and his fathers broad shoulders and his round, keg-like physique. The air in his tent felt crisp and moist, like the dewy mornings he remembered in Kansas, but the smell of machines and the exhausts and wailing of gasoline engines permeated the clouds that hovered over CampMerritt, the primary staging grounds for the troop movements overseas. Masking whatever fears he had about the mission he anticipated, and whatever resentment he felt realizing that control of his life belonged to others, he wrote to his family with enthusiasm and conviction about the big job he would soon undertake with his comrades at arms. Wed Morn 4/3 1918 Dear Mother and allWill drop you a few lines while I rest. They just took the boys out for a little exercise and I am doing some barber work have my hair cut short and feel like a convict We began giving hair cuts of Army regulations. It is sure some job. I worked till eleven last eve. Was sure tired.Never stopped for supper at all. This is a lovely camp and Soldiers galore, all kinds too. We have an inspection every half day. The next inspection is the one of the greatest importance to me and that is the Physical I believe I would croak if I didnt get to go over for my own ambition is to go on with the gang and do my part My number is 1,113,423 and I am proud of it. I have never yet been called on anything but this is the final Gee I can hardly wait.

Say but we sure had a fine trip I sure enjoyed myself we had a grand trip from San Antonio here 5 days and 5 nights crossed the Mississippi River on a large Barge at night. Cars and all, about 10 p.m. Moonlight and it was fine-- got to see the Capitol at Washington D. C. also at night and it was grand Sure had a nice reception in Philly from the Red Cross. Saw one of the prettiest lit up buildings there I ever expect to see Saw the Statue of Liberty and say, so many things I cant mention them all, and if I had of had the money today I would have went to N.Y. City. We didnt have an accident of any kind A few of the boys were sick but the change of climate wasnt so bad. We are so near the ocean You can hear the whistle of the Big boats. Have you rec'd the Insurance Policy I am sending you our emblem to wear and hope you receive it O.K. and let me know if you do I am sending Vesta one too. Will have to cut more hair as the boys are coming. So Bye Bye! Love to all Your Son and Bro Bill And for heavens sake write, and put the right address

Army food has long held the reputation for being a dreadful, barely tolerable alternative to starvation, but Bill did not find this to be the case at CampMerritt, where he wrote rave reviews about the meals to his family. The Holmes family grew much of their own food and, like many farm families generations ago, developed an appreciation, for fresh home made meals and good eating. Josies biscuits went unrivaled throughout the county. Whoopee Doodle! I am so full I can hardly utter a word but am going to tell you what I had for dinner. Look at the postcard which shows our mess hall run by Uncle Sam called Merritt Hall and say its some place a pool hall, the largest I ever saw a dining room cafeteria style the largest I ever saw but the dinner here we go now dont get hungry. Pork chops with gravy mashed potatoes and Lima beans. Just great! Sliced tomatoes, lettuce with a dressing grand indeed a great big piece of Chocolate Cake with preserved peaches that were out of sight and I never cared much for peaches! and apple pie with a slab of ice cream a la mode what ever that is and a glass of sweet milk with bread and butter to go now there was plenty of all and all for 90 cents now say, this is no pipe dream, for I devoured it in jig time and I have had my after meal smoke. Oh yes, I forgot the large Opera house a show every night that is fine so more amusement.

Yes this war is a great old game and many are playing it and many are fighting it I rather enjoy hearing the kicks and remarks of different outfits it is amusing I am glad I am with the bunch I am they are a real nice outfit of course there are a few mean ones, but the platoon I am assigned to are all jolly fellows no slackers just bully boys into it with a light heart.

Sgt. Hopkins sauntered over to Bills cot just as he finished his letter to his mother on Tuesday after early chow. He boomed. One overnight pass for Private First Class, W. G. Holmes. To be accompanied by Sergeant C. T. Hopkins and selected members of the Company. Transportation at 1200 hours. Bill looked up from his writing. He wasnt a PFC. And he hadnt applied for leave, knowing he would have no money for the City. And from your kindly Uncle Sam, Billy-boy, the proceeds from commissions for barbering the past week, $18.00. Cash money, son, on the barrel head! Bill sprang to his feet to give Hopkins a bear hug. Then remembering himself, he clicked his heels in mid-lunge and saluted smartly. Yes, sir! Sgt. Hopkins, sir, he parroted loudly. Yes, Sir! At ease, PFC Holmes.Hopkins spoke with patronizing good humor. He held an oversized manila envelope in one hand, a bulging pay envelope in the other. PFC? PFC, SIR!Hopkins replied, handing Bill the long brown envelope. Bill had received a promotion and a raise in pay. Not that he was getting much pay apart from barbering.

The ferry to Manhattan left at 12:30. Bill and Hopkins made it on board with only minutes to spare. The ferry sailed past the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Bill stared, mouth agape, at the monument in the harbor and the skyline beyond the water. From his perspective, the buildings looked like a vast, man-made mountain range with grey clouds of smoke obscuring the view. When they arrived at the docks on the lower west side of Manhattan, the two men caught a trolley uptown operated by an attractive woman who looked to be about thirty. Bill could not resist the urge to flirt. If you dont mind my asking, maam, whats a cultured gal like you operating a trolley car for? For a while, Soldier, she answered with a coquettish tone in her voice. But Im getting off of work at the next stop. What brings you to town? She looked him over. Ruddy face. Dark eyes and auburn hair cut short over his ears. She was lonely and he was new in town. She said her name was Caroline. They continued to talk. Hopkins quickly became a third wheel as he often did when out with Bill. The trio headed uptown from the trolley station. You boys should have tickets to the Hippodrome for tonight. If we hurry we should still be able to pick some up. I have a girlfriend at the ticket cage. You by yourself tonight, Charlie? she asked, looking at Hopkins. Just me and Bill, ah, Private Holmes, here. Good! Yawanta go? We can make it a foursome and take in some spots after.

It occurred to Bill that Caroline seemed as outspoken and aggressive as Kitty had been when they first met. She easily convinced her girlfriend to join the party and help create a foursome to celebrate the day. They spent the rest of the day together. In the park opposite City Hall, they stopped for a war bond rally where celebrities encouraged the crowd to invest in the war effort. Later the four of them had dinner at the YMCA cafeteria before going to the Hippo-drome. They approached their time together without inhibitions, like people who have only one night to live and no idea what the future holds beyond the already dwindling twenty-four hour pass. Like strangers who meet on an Atlantic cruise, they felt drawn together by some irresistible force. They closed a bar on Lexington Avenue and found themselves walking down a wet, dimly lit side street somewhere in midtown Manhattan at 3:00 oclock in the morning. The four walked separately as two couples now. Bill! Hopkins called, Ill see you for breakfast at the YMCA tomorrow morning at 10:00 oclock. Dont be late. I wont be early! The pairs turned away in separate directions. Caroline guided Bill to the door of a brownstone townhouse in Greenwich Village on a fashionable street with wrought iron fences and gates and steps up to the front doors. They stood together and looked into one anothers eyes and listened to the night sounds of the city. Then they sat down on the stoop and talked quietly for a while. Bill felt an unfamiliar sadness that he did not remember from previous experiences with other women. A kind of sentimental yearning.A remembrance of times past. He sensed that another conquest, another notch in his belt, another story to tell the boys in the barracks, was not how he wanted to remember this night.

Caroline rose and unlocked the door and turned again to face him. She stepped away and held the door for Bill to come inside. No, he said. I want to remember just what weve had today. I dont want to leave here wondering if someone in New York City will ever care about what becomes of me. Its been a great day. Lets just call it a night. Bill touched her shoulders, lowered his head, and kissed the nape of her neck. She brought her arms back around his back and leaned her softness into his hard chest. The palms of her hands fell below his belt line as he kissed around her neck to the indentation formed by the notch below her throat. Not willing to give up, she turned and took his hand to lead him up the stairs that led from the foyer to her apartment. A single electric light bulb hanging from a cord at the top of the stairs illuminated the hallway to her bedroom. Bill marveled at the idea of living in a place like this. He might have followed, but he tugged a little and freed his hand. She let it drop, turning to look at him curiously, unused to having her favors declined. Well, good night then, she sighed, still confused, ambiguously disappointed, as she turned and mounted the stairs leading to her second floor townhouse. Bill followed her to her boudoir only with his eyes, standing on the stoop alone, clutching the program he had carried with him from the Hippodrome, remembering Rosas face, her fair skin and her penetrating blue eyes, and what he would write and tell her about his day.

Back at camp, the men compared notes on their outing in the city. Hopkins barely made the ferry back to Hoboken. Bill remembered the ticket girl who came to the dock with him to see him off. They held hands and embraced before he boarded, and she stood on the pier and waved when the ferry cast off. When Hopkins asked Bill about his night, he gave a noncommittal answer and left the details to Hopkins imagination. Later, back in his tent, Bill waxed on like the first-time tourist he had actually been when he wrote about his sightseeing trip in his letter to Rosa. Beloved Rose I received your letter some few days ago and have been enjoying myself and working some since, so please pardon me wont you only wish you could run over and take a trip to the big city For say, you will never in all your sweet, sweet dreams imagine the ways of the big metropolis not only the ways but the tall, tall buildings and the many other things a person in Hutch would well enjoyWe crossed on a ferry to Manhattantook a subway up to 33rd St. went to 38th and Broadway and got a room. And then for the sights. Now I wont endeavor to mention all, for say its greatwe got ourselves together and located supper at what they called the West Side YMCA and by the way, we got introduced to our women conductors by saying its funny to see women driving busses but they were alrightwe got our tickets for the show at the largest theatre in the worldthe Hippodrome. And say, they knocked the puff all out of me the first shot. Ringling Brothers and the rest have nothing on that place. I thought they would never quit coming and they were all goodI had a program but forgot and left it at the Ythey had elephants, camels, dogs, trains, ships and wheat fields represented that were nearly perfecteverything was but the fieldthen to Grants Tomb, City Hallwent there this morning The tall buildings didnt bother me anyin fact I only gazed up once and that was to be sure I was staring at the Woolworth buildingI went up, yes up! 57 stories! Looked out over the old ocean on which I expect to pass in a few dayssaw a huge liner coming in all "camouflaged" and it was quite a sight Governors Island and the Brooklyn Bridgethe Bell telephone Bldgthe Docks and Ferry's. Tugs, ships of all descriptions and the wee, tiny people below some burg, also some building.

Now I wont go into any details, but in the 24 hours I was there I believe I might write 24 hours. But I will wait till I return and maybe I will have something of more interest. I must tell you of our evening at the Hippodrome, the title was "Cheer Up" The first scene threw me into a spasm from which I failed to recover.it was grandI thought they had opened the doors of heaven, for actors and actresses poured onto the stage (which is larger than the floor space of Convention Hall in Hutch) until a chorus of 500 that made the place ring, elephants, camels, trains, ships and well just ask me the rest laterI will long remember the occasion. Yes I saw the women doing their bit as conductors firemen also selling Liberty Bonds. Got to see and shake hands with dear little Mary Pickford, (also refused to buy a Liberty Bond from her which called for an explanation) Chas Chaplin and Doug Fairbanks gave short talks in Front of the Liberty Bell in Park Place across from City Hall. They are very patriotic and we all wished them success. Walked across the old Brooklyn Bridge which was completed in 1883 and rode backrode the subways, overhead street cars and everything I could, just to be city likeHumand just had a grand time, I may go back Ha! Ha! No I didnt try to go to the Ball Game. There was so much else to see and an old Ball Game I can see later. Not as many soldiers in New York City as in San Antonio but Sailors are thick especially when you get near BrooklynBridge as the Navy Yard is on the Brooklyn side. I hope you are making it fine for I am doing real well I just got one small promotion. Ha! Ha! Big me, just a first class private but it means $3 a month more though. Well, I must stop and say good bye. All my love to you YourBill

Payday came and went at CampMerritt and still Bill did not receive his full allotment. When Kathryn agreed to end her marriage she signed off her rights to his paychecks, a fact the government neither fully nor finally acknowledged. But before his departure for France, Bill made another futile attempt to recover his Army pay by writing to his father.

Thurs Eve Apr 11- 1918 Dear Father-: I had no money when I wired in fact I borrowed 65 cents to send the message and had intended you to wire the money for as a rule now an outfit only stays 2 or 3 days but we have been here going on two weeks and are quarantined with diphtheria so rather expect to stay a while longer. I have some money The Company Commander is a nice fellow and he allowed me my barber money. $18 so I have that, only I am in debt to the Govt. 6.90 insurance for March and will owe 6.90 for April plus $2.25 laundry for March and only $15 allotment for April so I wont have any April pay will owe the Govt. 5 cents the 1st of May. That is, if they allow the allotment if not the Govt. has $30 of my money I wont have any laundry bill for April as we have to do our own washing here, but I have a barber bill to turn in for April and it will give me a lift so I wont worry for money, I hope

Jonas flew into a rage when he finished reading Bills budget woes. The idea that his son was making such a sacrifice for the country, yet still had to worry about laundry money! His letters prompted Jonas to visit Ramsey's office in Hutchinson to expedite the matter of his sons pay. Ramsey wrote to Bill after meeting with Jonas.

TERMS OF COURT
FIRST TUESDAYS IN JANUARY, APRIL AND SEPTEMBER

W. A. HUXMAN, DEPUTY COUNTY ATTORNEY

OFFICE OF

HERBERT E. RAMSEY
COUNTYATTORNEY
RENOCOUNTY HUTCHINSON, KANSAS.

.
Mr. W. G. Holmes, Co. C. 9th Field Bat., Camp Merritt, New Jersey. Friend Holmes:

April 25, 1918.

Your father came in to see me and he told me that the Government had made some sort of an allotment of your pay. I wish you would kindly let me know what it is, so that I can take the matter up and see if I can not do something for you. Thanking you, I remain Yours very truly, HR-RZ.

But by the time Jonas visited County Attorney Ramsey's office in Hutchinson, Bill had already set sail. He did not receive Ramsey's letter in New Jersey. It would be more than a month before he would receive his attorneys letter and write to him again.

Chapter Eleven Embarkation

Saturday evening, April 20, 1918 A dozen men sat on on their bunks contemplating their plans to depart the next morning for the docks in Hoboken. They all smoked hand-rolled cigarettes or pipes; half of them played cards, gambling the last pay they would receive in America. Bill looked over the situation and took a final drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the bare unfinished wood floor. He crushed the glowing stub into the smooth gray wood, leaving a black charcoal line that looked like an angry eyebrow as he pulled his foot to one side. Reaching into his kit box he withdrew what was left of the sheet of postage stamps his mother had sent to him in LeonSprings. He took out several photographs, a pencil, a leaf of the YMCA stationary and an envelope hed carried across country. Folding the pencil into the paper, and then tucking everything into his pants pocket, he headed towards the heavy canvas flaps that made a doorway out of the wood-framed tent he occupied with the other men. After

three weeks the men could have recited each others first and last names and where they came from. But he might as well have spoken to the cloud of smoke that filled the cupola above the card table when he said Im going over to the mess hall for a little while. No one looked up to acknowledge him and he was gone. Something about protective anonymity kept a certain distance between them. Stepping onto the narrow path in front of the tent, Bill was swept into the helter-skelter movement of men going in every which way. He headed for the enlisted mens mess, Merritt Hall, to get something to eat and a cup of Army coffee. It took him 15 minutes, dodging other pedestrians, motorcycles, ambulances and troop transport vehicles, all of which had queued up for the caravan into Hoboken slated for the next morning. The dining hall, a sprawling, barn-like building put up suddenly on lodge poles and steel beams, beckoned him as though he were a kid with fifty cents in his pocket. He found the souvenir stand adjacent to the front door. Looking into the glass display case, a small lapel pin caught his eye. It bore a single blue star on a white enamel field, framed in red. He traded three postage stamps for the lapel pin and then found the coffee urn inside the hall. He took a fat slab of apple pie and sat at a table where he could drink his coffee, eat, and think about the grand adventure which lay just over the horizon, beginning in only hours. His last letter from CampMerritt went out on April 21. He signaled his departure by returning the stamps his mother had sent to him: Members of the American Expeditionary Forces could write home free of charge, if not free of censorship. So while he could not write to tell about his pending departure, he could return the stamps and send a letter laced with suggestion about his upcoming mission. He took up his pencil to write. CampMerritt Sat Eve 4/20

Dear Mother and all-: Am sending you the stamps, as I wont need any for a while. I just want to say hello and Goodbye and send you the balance of the photos for they wont help me any over there and we are booked ready for a quiet little leaveOf course if we do sail it will be two or three days before we are out on the deep I will mail a card and as soon as we are located will send you a letter we dont know where we will locate and if we go over we wont be able to say. I expect this to be my last night in CampMerritt. I take great pleasure in sending you a little message saying farewell, not for keeps but for a few days and maybe weeks. So now you know we are ready for the worst now it might happen that we won't go across but I will take no chances. No I havent weakened at all. I am ready have everything ready but my pack and I have to have my blankets to sleep under tonight. Can roll my pack in five minutes, so havent a worry. I don't know what to write. I can't think of much just now. Had a very nice supper here at Merritt Hall, so feel fine. I have to go and get my cigarettes. So wont tarry long for we have to be close all the time. Now dont stop writing for they will follow. I will give you all a fond goodbye and best wishes and will write when I can and God bless you. Your Son and Bro. William G.

Bill awoke the next morning before the bugle sounded. He made his way to the latrine, found a bowl and drew water for a shave. Just a short distance away he could already hear the drone of machines as they began the work of departure. Reveille sounded as Bill used the wet towel to wipe his face. The noise level in the area increased as if a tightly wound alarm clock had suddenly gone off. The area soon filled with uniformed and partially uniformed men in

various states of undress. Bill managed his way back to the tent where he dressed and finished packing his kit. Twenty minutes later, Sergeant Hopkins ordered the men into formation and inspected his troops. They stood down until it was time to move out for the transport trucks that would take them on the short trip into town and then to the docks that overlooked the Hudson River to the New York City skyline beyond. As the morning wore on, the congestion of humanity, coupled with the din of voices and machinery, grew louder and louder, until Bill lost himself in the cacophony of sights and sounds, and he became more an observer than a participant, like the black-and-white terns and seagulls floating overhead, in circles, looking for food on the water below. Finally they reached the docks at Hoboken and marched in formation towards the waiting steamships. Officials restricted almost everyone from the pier except the nearly 50,000 men in uniform who waited for orders to board the troop ships that lay in the docks. The few civilians permitted on the dock included women in Red Cross uniforms who offered the embarking troops coffee and donuts for breakfast and ubiquitous missionaries with their tracts and prayers of spiritual support. Bill observed the scene as a soul disembodied from the masses of humanity that filled his range of vision across the half-mile stretch of pier. A dozen ships billowed coal smoke and steam into the sky and filled a half dozen locks that had once hosted the finest cruise ships to ever sail the Atlantic: the American Line steamers, the Anchor Donaldson Line, Canadian Pacific Steamships, Cunard, White Star, and New Holland. The United States government had already pressed all available ships of most domestic carriers into service, stripping them of all amenities. Several ships of non-allied foreign fleets had also been seized and turned over to the Navy for use.

Ironically, German shipbuilders had christened Bills troop carrier, the Friedrich der Grosse, in 1896. Built in Stettin, she sailed regularly as a luxurious transport and cargo ship until August 1914, when the outbreak of hostilities caused the crew to hold up in safe American waters. On April 6, 1917, U. S. customs agents boarded 30 ships held in New York harbors, including the Friedrich der Grosse. They held the crews on Ellis Island for the duration of the war, but not until after the foreign sailors had systematically destroyed the interiors of the ships in ways they calculated would take the longest amounts of time to repair. The U.S. Navy commissioned the Friedrich der Grosse in July and changed her name to the USS Huron in September, 1917, when the Navy conscripted the foreign fleet to carry U.S. troops across the Atlantic. On April 22, 1918 the Huron carried Bill and members of the 9th Field Battalion, Company C Signal Corps past the Statue of Liberty and the New YorkHarbor out into the Atlantic Ocean, bound for France. No one could have imagined the former luxuries of the Friedrich der Grosse when the men boarded the USS Huron. A CPO clad in a double breasted pea coat, wearing a cap with a short, shiny black bill handed Bill and the others a ticket for passage and a warning not to lose it as they crossed the gang plank. The ticket directed where they would sleep and eat, and the rules each man had to observe. The soldiers marched on board in continuous lines. The ships sailors wore dark blue bell bottomed pants, matching caps that Bill imagined looked like college-boy beanies, and blouses with flamboyant scarves tied at their breastbones. They conducted the olive drab infantrymen to their compartments and showed them their assigned bunks according to their respectively numbered tickets. To avoid congestion while embarking, the soldiers had orders to immediately climb into their bunks and remain in their compartments until further notice.

Company C had the third deck below. Bill passed through the narrow gray passageways to a claustrophobic interior cabin. Across either end of the cabin, he saw droopy hammocks mounted four high, cocoon-like netted frameworks that ran from floor to ceiling. A bank of eight lockers faced the entry door. It had been a chilly 40 degrees outside when the troops boarded the ship, but the air within the cabins in the belly of the ship felt close and stifling. The men waited impatiently for hours before the ship set sail, playing cards, reading or sleeping, filling the cabins and hallways with the smells of perspiration, stale ashtrays and blue cigarette smoke. Finally at 4:30 that afternoon, they were allowed back on deck to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island as they sailed out of port. They watched New York Citys skyline recede into the horizon. Soon, the choppy waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the arrhythmic rise and fall of the massive steamship brought dozens of the boys to the rails where they hung their heads in disgrace, gagging and hurling with their first experience of seasickness. The seasoned sailors of the U.S. Navy stationed throughout the ship laughed and poked fun at their wretched passengers.

Life on board mirrored life at CampMerritt. Early morning reveille preceded calisthenics on deck. Then lines of soldiers waited to get through mess. The days dragged out, punctuated by meals and lines to get to meals. There was no mail and no way to send mail. One could write, but there was little to tell. The passage would take two weeks. They spent most of the hours on deck looking across the expanse of water hoping not to see the telltale periscope of an enemy submarine.

The Abandon Ship drill, or Drowning Drill as the men called it, became the highlight of the day. With U Boats operating in American waters, the importance of the abandon ship drill could not be overestimated, so the Navy crewmen staged the first drill as the ship headed into open waters on Saturday afternoon, protected by faster-moving destroyers. At the sound of the great Klaxon horns, the sailors lowered the lifeboats while the troops strapped on life vests and made their way to pre-assigned positions throughout the ship where they would climb down rope ladders to reach boats or other floats that would be waiting for them. To save lives, the Navy knew that the passengers had to get into their lifeboats as quickly as possible and row away from the sinking ship, lest they be sucked down with it. Such was the routine until Thursday evening, five days out. Just after twilight a sudden impact jarred everyone on board and something that sounded like an explosion made the whole ship shudder. Panic seized the passengers. No one on board knew what had happened. Almost immediately the Klaxon horns sounded alarm. Bills heart pounded as he leapt from his bunk and scrambled to find his life vest. The cabin lights flickered and went dark, leaving the troops who had only drilled once, just two nights ago, to abandon ship in the dark, groping their way to the upper decks by dim emergency lights posted in the corners of hallways. Instead of forward motion, the ship rose and fell like a teetering drunk, at the command of the waves and the rhythm of the swells. Everyone knew that this was not a drill. Some men left quarters barefoot. Others frantically tried to put on their boots, not bothering to finish lacing them, but tying them in hurried double knots before careening out the doors of their cabin and pounding down hallways and upstairs to their abandon ship posts. When the men reached their assigned lifeboats they saw the lights and the hulking presence of another ship in their convoy, just feet away from the USS Huron. A mistake in the

course changing signals among the three ships traveling in the tightest formation resulted in a ship called Siboney leaving her assigned position when her steering gear failed. Then another vessel, the Aeolus, changed course radically to avoid collision with the Siboney. Aeolus rammed the Huron, leaving a large gaping hole amidships and several other smaller ones. The accident precluded them from continuing towards Europe; they circled about and headed back to port in Hoboken. Bill felt like a man whose death sentence had unexpectedly, at the last moment, been reprieved, but without the certainty that it would not be reinstated. He did not sleep well en route back to Hoboken. His diarrhea returned. The trip back to port took nearly a week and the mood on board was tense. As the ship steamed slowly westward to avoid swamping the lower decks, the drowning drills continued, but less frequently. Bill adapted to sea travel like the Midwest flatlander that he was; he often skipped meals and regularly fed the fish much of what he did eat. By the time they reached port, he had lost ten pounds from stress and all his other physical symptoms. Once in port, the troops were ordered to quarters and Bill decided to write another letter home. Hoboken N. J. Sun Eve, Apr 28 Dear Mother and all Back to the dear old U.S.A. And say, you will never imagine all of my feelings anyway. We had been out on the open seas 5 days and were rammed about 800 miles out, Thursday night about 9 oclock, by our sister ship the Aeolus. We were on the transport Huron. I am giving this to a friend in the Navy for fear we wont get to go on shore. But if we do I will give you a detailed report of our trip. You may talk of treatment of soldiers but I could and would be hung if I spoke my feelings. Everything was very calm the night of the wreck. I was prepared. We have our boat drills twice a day so there wasnt much confusion but I never care to go thru such again. We have just pulled up to the piers at Hoboken and I am on the third deck below on my bunk in what is known as the hog pen.

If I ever live to see civilization. Oh well, I have been real seasick but am still ready to do my bit and have been on top and give old glory three lusty cheers. We expect to go right back, so bye bye. Love to all and say, I am still proud even though I did think my time had come. Bill

And then he added this postscript on a separate sheet of paper. Just a line for cautionNow, say, there isnt much said of this accident-- so whatever you do be careful for fear I might get in trouble. Dont repeat till you know it is made public. We are going right back again and hope it is tonight Am still O.K. I hope you get this. I will mail you a card to tell of my arrival over there. Bill

Josie held the letter to her breast when she finished reading it. Tears swept down her cheeks as her emotions overflowed. For the next several days she found occasions to read the letter in a hushed voice only to members of the immediate family. Together they looked at each other fearfully as the awesome nature of the events transpiring on the other side of the world became a reality to them. The Huron arrived back in Hoboken on the night of April 28, and the troops finally transferred to another refurbished German ship, the Kroonland, and departed Hoboken at 8:00 p.m. the next evening. Not without more breakdowns and frights, the Kroonland sailed into the Bay of Biscay on the Atlantic coast of France. The men disembarked at the Port of Saint Nazaire on May 12. They had a few days of rest at a nearby military encampment before loading onto troop trains bound northeast to the front at Armentieres where they trained in earnest for signal work, the mission they had been sent to accomplish. When military officials stateside confirmed the safe arrival of the troop ships at their port in France, they released four postcards from Bill, one addressed to Mr. J.H. Holmes, another to

Mrs. J. H. Holmes addressed to Langdon, Kansas, postmarked Hoboken, N.J. Bill used a 2 CENTS 2U.S. POSTAL CARD that bore the engraved image of Thomas Jefferson printed in red ink. On the opposite side, this message to his father back home: Arrived-All O. K. W. G. Holmes

The American Red Cross printed Vestas and his mothers cards. They carried the label SOLDIERS MAIL. NO POSTAGE NECESSARY in the upper corners on the front of the card. The one addressed to Miss Vesta Holmes, 608-B East, Hutchinson, Kan., bore a postmark, May 17, 1918. The Red Cross printed the simple statement on both cards:I HAVE ARRIVED SAFELY OVERSEAS, with a dotted line where Bill signed his name. In the lower left hand corner Red Cross gave the boys this simple instruction: This card will be held until safe arrival of the boat on which I sailed. The fourth card went to Rosa Kelley and bore the following inscription on the back side. Till we meet again whether here or way up yonderall my loveWGH