History of Ambulance Company Number 139

THIS BOOK IS AN ATTEMPT TO GIVE A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE OF THE MEN OF AMBULANCE COMPANY NUMBER 139 DURING THEIR SERVICES IN THE GREAT WAR. IT WAS WRITTEN BY THE MEN WHILE THEY WERE AWAITING SAILING ORDERS FOR HOME, IN BARN-LOFT BILLETS OF THE VILLAGE OF AULNOIS-SOUS-VERTUZEY, FRANCE, WHILE THE MEMORIES OF OUR EXPERIENCES WERE STILL FRESH IN OUR MINDS.

ORGANIZATION OF AMBULANCE COMPANY 139

When war was declared on Germany April 5th, 1917, the government sent out calls for volunteers. The auxiliary organizations were to be the first ones to go across, and it looked as if ambulance companies would be among the first to get into action. Many of the universities and colleges in the east started at once to organize ambulance companies. These companies were quickly filled, and the enthusiasm spread quickly to the west.

Early in April Dr. Edwin R. Tenney of Kansas City, Kansas, was appointed by the adjutant general of the State of Kansas to organize a national guard ambulance company in that city. Until this time there had never been a national guard ambulance company in the State of Kansas. Dr. Tenney had been a practicing physician in Kansas City for a number of years and before coming to the city he served as a physician during the Spanish-American war. For the past five years he had held a lieutenant's commission in the U. S. Army Reserve Corps. It was through his efficient work that this company was recruited to full strength within a month after he received his appointment.

The recruiting office in the press room at the city hall was a very busy place during the month of April. Every one was anxious to join some branch of the army. By April 25th the company was recruited to its full strength of sixty-four men and the office was closed. However, orders were received the next day to recruit the company to eighty-four men, so again the office was opened for business with a sign which read, "Join a motor ambulance company and ride." It was in this office that so many of the men held up their right hand and said that fatal "I do."

About this time Dr. Richard T. Speck, of Kansas City, Kansas, received a lieutenant's commission in the Kansas National Guard and was assigned to this company. A few days later Drs. A. J. Bondurant, of St. Margaret's Hospital, Kansas City, Kansas, and A. H. Adamson, of the General Hospital, Kansas City, Missouri, also received commissions and were assigned to this company.

On April 30th Major Seth A. Hammell, of Topeka, Kansas, mustered the company into the state guard as Kansas Ambulance Company No. 2. Another ambulance company, known as Kansas Ambulance Company No. 1, was organized by Lieutenant W. L. Rhodes, of Argentine, Kansas.

After the state muster the company had two drill nights a week. These drills often interfered with some of the men's plans, but that made no difference as they now belonged to "Uncle Sam" and duty came before pleasure. It was at these semi-weekly drills that the men learned the first principles of soldiering under the leadership of Lieutenant R. T. Speck and Sergeant Roscoe Leady. They were unaccustomed to regular drilling, especially on paved streets, and many times they went home with sore feet from doing "fours right and left" and "to the rear, march."

On June 14th the company was called out for federal inspection and was formally recognized by the federal authorities. This was the first formation in which every one was present, as many of the men lived out of the city and could not come to the drills. After this inspection the men were told to be ready to leave at any time, as it wouldn't be over two weeks at the most before they would be called out. The days dragged slowly, and it seemed that the company would never be called into service. The men were all anxious to start for France and many of them had already given up their positions, thinking that it would be but a short time until they would leave.

On Decoration Day the company was ordered out for a special formation to march to the cemetery and to pay tribute to the heroes of the past. However, it rained so hard that the march was called off and instead the men were assembled in the auditorium of the High School where they listened to an address by J. K. Cubbison.

For a number of years it had been customary for all national guard organizations to go into camp on the night of July 3rd and stay until the 4th, when they would put on an exhibition of some kind. Consequently this company, together with Company A, First infantry, K. N. G., and Battery E, First Field Artillery, K. N. G., went into camp on the night of July 3rd at the City Park. To most of the men this was their first experience in sleeping on the ground, and it will not be easily forgotten, for the next day found every one with aching bones. In the afternoon of the 4th the men of Company A, Infantry, put on a sham battle, and this company followed them up, administering first aid to the "wounded."

LIFE AT CAMP HOEL

It was on the memorable day of August 5th, 1917, that the members of Kansas Ambulance Company No. 2 assembled at the corner of Ninth and Minnesota Avenue, Kansas City, Kansas. As the clock struck nine the order "Fall in" was given. After a few army formalities the company was marched out to Camp Hoel, which was situated at Twentieth Street and Washington Boulevard. It was a spectacular scene for the outsiders and for all the men in the company. It looked more like a parade of college chaps before a football game, as almost all of the fellows were dressed in their "Sunday best." There were a few boys dressed in the khaki, which gave the passerby the idea that we were a part of the great American Army which was being formed. When we reached camp a small white tent was pitched, which was to be our office, supply room and a place of shelter for those boys of the company who did not live in the city or who were not staying at the homes of some of their friends.

Our company was not the only one at this camp, as we had neighbors, who were later designated as follows: Company A, 137th Infantry; Companies B and C of the 110th Regiment of Engineers; Battery E, 130th Field Artillery, and Ambulance Company 140 of the 110th Sanitary Train. The majority of the members of these organizations were Kansas City boys.

In a few days the drills were started. Awkward squads were formed and from all parts of the camp the command of "fours right," "to the rear, march," etc., could be heard. Hikes were numerous, and it was not long until our feet knew all the bumps on every street in Kansas City, Kansas.

The mess for the different companies at Camp Hoel was put in charge of the Central Boarding Company of Kansas City, Missouri. A large tent was erected for the kitchen and it was there that the men were initiated into the secrets of "kitchen police."

After wearing overalls, blue shirts or any other old article that was obtainable, the company was greatly shocked one morning when the news came that part of our equipment had arrived. Here again another dream was shattered, for it seemed that the good fits for the men must have been lost in transit. The large fellows received clothing too small for them, and the small fellows received clothes that would have looked well if they had had about fifty more pounds of muscle upon their skeletons. But as a matter of fact everyone was very proud of the new uniform.

A few days before the uniforms arrived a proposition was laid upon the table for the debate of the company. The great question was, "Shall each member buy leather leggins?" Nobody knew at that time about the uniform rules of the army. Leather leggins looked fine and seemed to be the fashion according to posters and magazine pictures. So the debate was closed and the whole bunch bit on the eight and ten dollar pairs. We used them several times, in fact we wore them in two parades, and were granted the permission to wear them to Doniphan, were we soon sold them at the average price of $5.00 per pair.

On August 13th the boys received their physical examination. A few were disappointed at that time to find that they could not pass the examination and go along with the company. That afternoon Captain Arthur L. Donan of the 3rd Kentucky Infantry placed himself before the company and mumbled a few words. After the company was dismissed the main question was, "What did the captain have to say?" It was soon found out that he had mustered us into Federal Service.

On the Saturdays of the first two weeks at camp we were treated fine (just kidding us along). On the third Saturday we were lined up in formation and were sent to the infirmary. There we were told to get ready for the worst. Both arms were bared while iodine swabs, the medics' famous panacea, were thrown around freely. There were three doctors in one corner ready for action. Two of them were puncturing the right arms with needles and with a little push of a plunger our body was given some extra fluid so that we might be able to combat that great army disease of former years, typhoid fever. The other doctor was cutting a few nitches in the boys' left arms so that the smallpox vaccine could do its duty. Fainting was in order on that day, as well as on the following three Saturdays, when the puncturing process was repeated, and no member of the company was slighted.

The mothers of Kansas City made army life, while we were at Camp Hoel, as pleasant as possible. On different days we received a basket dinner, a watermelon feast and an ice cream and cake festival from them. Those days were the frequent topics of conversation during the boys' stay in France and will never be forgotten. Shows were always at hand in Kansas City and on certain afternoons theatre parties were formed by the members of the company.

September 27th was the fatal day for Kansas Ambulance Company No. 2 in Kansas City, Kansas. On that day camp was broken and the company was formed. We left our camp and marched to the train behind the famous Kilties Scotch Band, which led us down Minnesota Avenue through the great crowds that had gathered along the street to cheer us on our way. We boarded the train at Third and Washington Boulevard, where the boys bid their dear ones "goodbye."

TRAINING AT CAMP DONIPHAN

When that Frisco troop train pulled out of Kansas City, Kansas, on September 27th, 1917, it cannot be said that it carried a very hilarious bunch of soldiers. The men, the majority of whom had never been away from home before for any length of time, had just spent a last few happy days with the home folks, sweethearts and friends and now they were going out into a new life, into new environments and with unknown problems and experiences ahead of them. They were quiet at first, no doubt wondering what was in store for them before they saw "home" again, but as they left Kansas City far behind their quietness disappeared and soon little groups were chattering at a lively rate.

After an uneventful trip the troop train carrying Kansas Ambulance Companies No. 1 and 2 and one field hospital company arrived at the Fort Sill railroad yards at about 4:30 P. M. on September 28th. After a short delay the companies started their march toward the area on the south side of the camp, designated for the Sanitary Train, and right then and there they were introduced to that for which Camp Doniphan is noted – DUST – five or six inches of it on every road. What a hot, dirty hike that was, unaccustomed as the men were to those ungainly, heavy packs! And when Kansas Ambulance Company No. 2 (later designated as Ambulance Company 139) reached camp did they find comfortable tents or barracks to step into? They did not. True, tents were there, but they were in wooden crates, and there was a long, vacant space between a mess hall and a bath house on which those tents were to stand. Fate was with the men that night, for the moon was shining brightly, so after a supper of crackers and cheese they soon had twelve Sibley tents pitched on the allotted space. Tired from their trip and work litters made excellent bunks and the men slept the sleep of the weary, their first night under real army conditions.

Army life, as experienced in those first six weeks at Camp Doniphan, can scarcely be called a picnic. If there had been floors in the tents, and if you could have turned a switch instead of having to light a candle in order to have light, and if there had been an adequate supply of good water, and if "DUST," in vast quantities, had not been a "regular issue" – well, such was life at Doniphan for the first few weeks.

However, by Thanksgiving, many improvements had been made. Good water was piped from a lake some distance from the camp and no longer was moss and like substances found in the water that came through the pipes. Nor was it necessary to watch all the dust of Kansas blow by from the north in the morning, with a return trip in the afternoon. The tents were floored and sidings put on, and electric lights were installed; Sibley stoves were issued, together with an ample supply of wood – all of which made the life at Camp Doniphan a little more attractive. A large boiler and tank was installed in the bath house, giving the men plenty of hot water for bathing and washing clothes. Military training continued, of course, consisting of drilling on the field and lectures in the mess hall by medical officers on subjects essential to the work of sanitary troops. This included practice in the use of bandages and splints and litter drill.

The Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays brought many visitors to camp – mothers, brothers, sisters and friends, all anxious to see for themselves the Army life that the men had been writing about. If any of the mothers had been worrying about the "beans and hard-tack" which is supposed to be an unvarying part of a soldier's menu, they returned home with that worry eliminated, for on both Thanksgiving and Christmas, "John," the red-headed chef of the company, brought forth dinners that would make the "Plantation Grill" or the "Pompeien Room" sit up and take notice. Turkey, all you could eat and with all the trimmings, and the dessert of mince pie and fruit cake, made one think of "Home, Sweet Home" and Mother's incomparable cooking. As a whole, Army feed wasn't half as bad as it was supposed to be. How could it be, when flapjacks, sausage, steak and pie were regular issues?

The winter of 1917–18, according to the "natives," was the worst in Oklahoma for fifteen years, and those reports will never be questioned by the men who were at Doniphan that winter. More than once they awoke in the morning to find three or four inches of snow on the tent floor. However, unaccustomed as the men were to living in tents in cold weather, there was a comparatively small amount of sickness. True, a number of the men were sent to the Base Hospital, with measles, influenza and pneumonia, and several times the company was quarantined, but very few of the cases proved serious, and sooner or later the men returned to duty.

For several months, both the Base Hospital and the Isolation Camp were in need of Medical men, and details from the Sanitary Train were sent to relieve the situation. The men were put to work at anything from nurse to Supply Sergeant, and this work gave them some good, practical experience along medical lines. Just before Christmas, the company received twelve G. M. C. Ambulances, and for the remainder of our stay at Doniphan these ambulances were used for evacuation work between the Base Hospital and the different units of the Division.

Not all of the training at Doniphan was along medical lines, however. At regular intervals you could expect to find your name on the Bulletin Board under the heading "Kitchen Police," and when it wasn't that, it was probably for a tour of guard duty, and if you were lucky enough to miss both of those details, it was seldom that you weren't picked for company fatigue.

The personnel of our officers changed somewhat at Doniphan. Lt. Adamson soon after getting there, received his honorable discharge. About February 1st, Lt. Tenney was transferred to a Machine Gun Battalion, and Lt. Speck was placed in command of the company. Lt. Paul R. "Daddy" Siberts, Lt. Bret V. Bates, and Lt. Colin C. Vardon were assigned to the company while at Doniphan, the latter in place of Lt. Bondurant, who was transferred to the Casual Company at Camp Doniphan.

With the coming of warmer weather in the early spring, the outside drill turned to hikes, and many is the tale that can be told about the "strategic maneuvers" of the Sanitary Train. Ask any of the man about the night at Buffalo Springs, when J. Pluvius turned the faucet wide open, deluging the tent city. Ask them about "The Lost Sanitary Train," when, in returning from Sulphur Springs, they circled Scott Mountain before they finally bumped into Medicine Lake, and finally arrived back to camp at 3 A. M. But as a rule, the hikes were interesting and instructive, and furnished excellent training. Men who had always depended on Mother for their meals learned how to build a camp fire in the face of a high wind and to cook their dinner of bacon, potatoes and coffee. They learned that a great deal of territory can be covered without the use of a street car or "flivver," and incidentally their muscles became hardened, fitting them for the strenuous work ahead.

From the very first, nothing interested the men more than the thought of a furlough home, and almost as soon as they arrived at Doniphan, the arguments were many as to whether it would be nicer to be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. But it was not until January that any leaves at all were granted. Then the furloughs were limited to five or seven days, and in that way almost all of the men were able to visit the home folks for a few days before leaving for overseas service. Putting their feet under Mother's table again, and seeing Her for a few days, invariably put the men in a happier and more contented spirit, and they came back to camp with more "pep" for their work.

Tho the days were filled with the routine of drill and company duties, the social side of life at Doniphan must not be forgotten. Not far from camp was the city of Lawton, and while it was far from being an ideal town, it was at least a change from the monotony of camp life. Passes to town were liberal, and the men spent many pleasant evenings there, either at the picture shows or with friends whom they met after going to Doniphan.

The Y. M. C. A. deserves a great deal of credit for its work at Doniphan. "Y" Bldg. No. 59, used by the Sanitary Train and the 110th Engineers, was just a short distance from the train area, and in the evening immediately after Retreat a stream of men could be seen going in that direction. The "Y" furnished paper and envelopes, pen and ink, thus encouraging the men to write home oftener. Movies, at least twice a week, band concerts and boxing bouts were some of the means of entertaining the men, and there was always a full house. On Sundays the men were privileged to attend exceptionally interesting religious services, and the series of addresses given by Chaplain Reeder of the Engineers was well worth hearing.

Almost as soon as the company arrived at Doniphan, rumors filled the air about the Division leaving for overseas service, but nothing substantial developed until about the middle of March. Then orders were received that the Division was booked to leave, and the work preparatory to moving started in earnest. Everything, from the kitchen range to the Pierce-Arrow trucks, had to be prepared for shipment. Lumber was furnished, and the company carpenters were kept busy almost to the day of departure building crates and boxes. After being crated, each article had to be stenciled with the company designation, together with the weight and cubical contents, and the Division Symbol. Packing lists were prepared, which was no small task, and the main work preparatory to leaving was completed.

Not all of the men of the company left Camp Doniphan with the Division, for as is always the case in a large body of men, there were a few who were physically unfit. These men, nine of them, were left at the Casual Camp at Camp Doniphan, and were later assigned to recruiting or military police duty in various parts of the United States.

DEPARTURE FROM CAMP DONIPHAN

The day of May 8th, 1918, dawned bright and fair. The morning was spent in finishing up little odds and ends of work, and in rolling packs. At 1 P. M. "Fall in," the last one at Doniphan, sounded, and soon afterwards the Sanitary Train started its march to the railroad yards. Again it was hot and dusty, just as it had been when the company marched into camp, and it was with a feeling of relief that the troop train came into view. Pullman cars? No, the Sanitary Train couldn't be as fortunate as that, so the men had to be content with chair cars.

With seven months training behind them, the men of Ambulance Company 139 left Camp Doniphan for "Somewhere in France" with great anticipation, feeling that they were ready for any part that they might have to play.

On board the train, which left Doniphan at 3 P. M., the men amused themselves in reading and card games. There were a few details, such as sweeping the cars, kitchen police or serving the meals "de luxe" to the boys, but the old beloved guard detail was not left to the privates. It was graciously wished on the non-coms, who were forced to carry a "45 smoke wagon" on their belts, according to some General Order in the "blue book." We never learned whether they were to keep the boys from getting out or to keep the feminine sex from getting in.

At our first stop, El Reno, Okla., the four ambulance companies, which made up one train, "fell-out" for a little exercise, and after an hour or so of maneuvering, we climbed aboard again to journey nearer the Atlantic. We were by this time consulting time tables, watches and maps to decide over which route we must travel in order to pass through Kansas City, the home of most of the boys in the company. The first night of traveling passed slowly, and as the first tints of dawn were spreading over the eastern sky our train drew into Topeka. Shortly after daybreak the train left the Capitol city of Kansas, and headed down the Kaw Valley towards Kansas City. As the noon hour of May 9th was passing away the train pulled into the big Union Station, where mothers, fathers, wives, brothers, sisters, sweethearts and friends had been waiting for hours, with baskets overflowing with delicious meats, sandwiches, fruits and all the rarest and spiciest that a Mother's effort could put forth.

Again the "blue book" came into play, and we took a little sightseeing trip up Main Street. The bride of a certain Sergeant in the company tried to follow her "hero in hobs" but fell out after the first block. We did an about-face at 12th Street and double-timed back to the folks. After re-entering the coach, we leaned out of the window, pulled the Mother and sweetheart up to us, and for the time being were utterly unconscious of what went on around us or where we were. When the train slowly moved out of the station, we tried to smile as we said "Good-bye," and watched the handkerchiefs still waving when we rounded the corner and were out of sight.

We arrived at St. Louis about 12:30 the next morning, and were switched onto a siding, where we stayed until daybreak, when we continued our journey, crossing Illinois and Indiana. At Huntington, Ind., we again stopped and had setting-up exercises. Upon reaching Peru, Ind., we found Pullman cars awaiting us, and from then on we rode in style. Our next stop was at Salamanca, N. Y., where exercise was again on the program. From there we traveled through some of the most picturesque country of the east.

While on the train a humorous incident occurred. The officers heard from some underground source that "Snowball," our dark-complexioned porter, had been passing "Old Evans" around to the boys in a promiscuous fashion. And at the same time "Snowball" heard in the same way that the officer of the guard was going to make a search of his possessions for this precious "fire-water." The search was made, with Snowball looking on wild-eyed, and the officer detective was about to give it up, when he noticed a string leading out the window, and upon investigating found the poor half-dead soldier (bottled in bond) tied by the neck to the other end of the string.