FIRST AID
ON FOUR FRONTS IN
WORLD WAR I
308th Medical Detachment
Letters written by,
Sgt. 1st
Class
William D. Conklin
May
(Written at Zutkerque, PaS de Calais "Flanders")
May 3, 1918
A great deal has happened, but I shall have to mind my
P's and Q's and necessarily leave out a lot that would be
of interest.
I have taken it for granted that the cards left- at the
pier when we sailed were mailed from there as soon as
word of our safe arrival had been cabled. It seemed best
to wait until we were more certain of postal arrangements
before writing. This letter goes directly through the
Base Censor and should reach you more promptly for that
reason. We are allowed one such letter a week--or
envelope in which several letters may be enclosed.
We left camp with work well cleared up, but it took a
tremendous push at the end to do so. During the voyage we
ran a small hospital and had charge of sanitary
conditions. This necessitated my being below decks a good
deal., but I used to get in a constitutional once in a
while, and the trip as a whole was an interesting
experience,
After a journey in several stages, we have landed for a
temporary stay at a place some twenty-five miles from the
trenches. Our Surgeon's office and dispensary are in
different quarters, but we manage very well. The officers
are billeted in the village houses and the men in barns.
The one we are fortunate to have is reasonably tight and
perfectly clean. We have plenty of fresh straw as
foundation for our blankets. I tried a burlap covered cot
the first night, but was glad to descend to a humbler
level before morning, for the sake of warmth. These
quarters are a paradise compared to those assigned to us
the first night in this area. Some of us look one look at
that place and decided to pitch our "pup" tents
outside , where we slept on a grassy lawn, under a clear
sky, with the big guns booming in the distance.
Then came another billet, ideal in some ways, but our
equipment could not well be housed there, so we moved
down to the nearest village. We have a comfortable little
stove in our office, fitting into a six-foot-wide
fireplace. Tables and chairs there were none, to begin
with., but we scouted around and rigged up desks out of
odd window shutters, cupboard shelves., etc., and mine
could pass as a piece of medieval Flemish handiwork. We
did a lot of work in this little room before our
typewriter was taken away to Regimental Headquarters. We
borrowed it before leaving camp when suddenly deprived of
the one furnished by the Medical Supply Depot. I don't
see how we could have managed or the boat without
something of the sort, We supposed that
"paperwork" would be cut down on this side, but
it looks now as if it would be increased. The Captain
says it will have to go on as best it can, even in the
trenches, In the matter of medical records and reports,
as in many other things, we are becoming familiar with
British methods.
I suppose you will all want to know how I have fared as
regards food. At- present we have a good generous ration
.--cereals, the best of meat, bread, butter, cheese., and
plenty of jam, and Dundee marmalade. And we all have
hearty appetites. On the boat I was much better fixed
than most of the men, who were glad enough to get land
rations again. Together with one other medical first
sergeant., and the line top sergeants., I ate in the
first-class mess, and feasted on the same food as the
officers. The menu was everything one could ask for, the
equal of a good hotel's cuisine in wartime.
We have Plenty of fun on the side. I persist in
adventures with the French language, and mean to work up
my vocabulary every chance I get. One or two fellows in
the Detachment speak a Canadian-French lingo fluently and
get along well with the inhabitants. I am not too proud
to make blunders. There is a larger town about a mile and
a half from here. (Audiuicq) It contains many oddly
assorted shops, curious old winding streets, and some
pretensions in the way of a church and a town hall. I
have been down twice and explored. This is good fun in
congenial company, even when the crowd ridicules your
efforts to make the residents understand. The French
themselves are without exception polite. You can murder
the language and they will not raise an eyebrow.
Yesterday, with the pressure of work relieved, and pretty
thoroughly in need of a good cleanup, several of us went
down to the British baths half a mile from here, and had
a regular Roman afternoon,- first a steam bath, then a
warm shower, then a cold one, and a good rub-down, It was
a luxurious sensation to be scrubbed once more. Afterward
we walked on down to the town, and finished up, when it
was too late to get back for mess, by investigating, the
Salvation Army canteen, where we had superfine fried
eggs, French Fried potatoes, bread and butter, and
cocoa,--all for about 23 cents in our money.
It is certainly not summer weather here yet, and the sun
doesn't come out every day, by any means, but from all we
hear, conditions are much more comfortable than they were
a few months ago. The houses that are in good condition
(and some of those in the country are very carefully kept
up) may be all right in cold weather. There are
farm-houses near here that ought to be the setting for a
play or an opera,
It seems sometimes as if we had been set down on the
stage in the middle of the second act, with the audience
all but visible. The typical group is a house, a barn,
and smaller buildings around what is a combination of
court-yard and barnyard. In the best of these places the
plaster walls are carefully calcimined, the tile roofs
are covered with freshly thatched straw, and the
interiors are spick and span to the last degree.
Adjoining is usually a small apple orchard, in bloom just
now. The ground beneath the trees is covered with thick
turf and the property screened from the road by high
hedges. I don't know that all this detail will be of
interest. The doll's village lay-cut, however, is in such
contrast to what is going on within comparatively few
miles and so different from what we shall probably be
mixed up in before long, that I put it down while fresh
in mind.
In future I hope to get off at least one letter a week,
but you must remember that there will be a flood of mail
going each way and this will mean delays and possible
loss of letters. So don't expect to hear. from me
regularly,, So far I have not had any letters from home,
but am trying to wait patiently. Except for bulletins,
rumors and an occasional four-page English paper, we know
nothing about what has been going on, for the last month.
(Written at Sombrin, Pas de Calais)
May 16,1918
Yesterday came a magnificent batch of mail-- the first we
have received since leaving the other side. Nine letters
for me, most of them forwarded from camp, to be sure,,
and dated at least a month ago, but every one welcome.
The "Somewhere in France" on my letters is by
no means static, but of course I can only let you read
between the lines in saying that within the last week we
had about forty-eight hours notice to pack up all our
equipment, lightening the load as much as possible. Then
came a long slow railroad journey, with a long and rather
exacting hike at the end of it, begun on detraining about
1 A.M. But here we are, satisfactorily billeted after one
false start and provided with an infirmary. We are having
the finest Spring weather much drier and clearer than in
our former location, and it is altogether more cheerful.
Our experience of active warfare is so far pretty well
confined to air raids--one of which was a corker,
although technically "unsuccessful." A battle
in the air is so thrilling when observed from below that
one forgets to be much scared. For a long time we were
without maps. Finally a big official British map of the
region, fitted out with adjustable pins and thread, was
put up at a crossroads and we used to stand there and
listen to tales of Britishers who had known the real
thing at places now famous. I have since secured two naps
for myself.
I wish you all could see us togged out ready for a march,
all our duds upon us, except numerous personal-
belongings which we had to pack in our barrack bags and
leave behind. Undoubtedly the infantry pack, with gun,
entrenching tools, and ammunition, is considerably
heavier than ours, and it looks as if it would be harder
to carry. It resembles the Indian arrangement for
carrying a papoose, all the weight pulling on shoulder
straps. In contrast, we carry, besides the medical belt
(fitted out with first, aid articles and having a
hatchet, a canteen., and an extra pouch dangling from
it., a bag that I understand is the old cavalry
ration-bag. It has several compartments for rations,
mass-tin, toilet articles, and anything under the sun
that you can crowd into it. This is strapped over the
shoulders and the belt attached to it. Then there is a
blanket roll, flexible as to size and contents, which is
made up in the shape of a horseshoe and slung diagonally
across the shoulder. (or fastened flat to the ration-bag,
as regulations may require). The advantage of carrying
the roll separately is that it can be shifted about.,
and, during a rest, dropped off entirely. The metal
helmet and gas mask and extra pair of shoes are arranged
as cleverly as one can devise, for permanence, beauty.,
and comfort., Put this pack over an overcoat, and
perhaps a sweater, which comes- in handy enough on a
night train ride, and you feel like a great old
war-horse, with sympathy for a medieval knight in armor.
After a little extra sleep, some good coffee, and a
bath--we have hot showers directly across from our
billets - we picked up in no time from what even the
infantry, hardened as they are to marches (compared to us
"pill-pushers) considered a pretty strenuous hike.
You can be sure that I feel very well indeed, have plenty
of good food to eat, and sleep like a log. I only hope
that everything,- is going all right at home.
(Written at Sombrin, Pas do Calais)
May 28, 1918
I am embarking on what I hope may be a good bulky letter.
So many have come from the other side, and they are
appreciated as I never appreciated letters before; but it
has been impossible lately to sit down and write
individual answers, though I had hoped to do it. Here it
is the time when everybody is supposed to be off the
streets except the guards (9:30 P.M. ) and one last man
comes in to have his arm bandaged, My roommate is in the
infirmary is taking care of him. Our shelter-halves are
up at the two windows to shut out (or in) the light of
our candles, because even a small light will serve as a
target for an enemy airplane.
The raids occasionally shorten a night's sleep, but that
is a small matter. It is strange how variously they
affect different people, To me, there is a kind of
fascination in looking up into the sky and, even on the
clearest nights, seeing nothing, but hearing the motor
grow louder and louder until it seems to be directly
overhead. Opinions differ as to whether it is safer to go
outside or stay in during a raid, My instinct takes me
outside of walls that might tumble. On many a night,
though., we sleep undisturbed; sometimes I find that a
fairly distant bombardment which has kept a good many
awake has only colored my dreams.
My best help in the office, our stenographer has had to
go to the hospital with a persistent bronchitis.
Consequently I have been having a pretty lively time with
the usual round of reports, etc. The lack of a typewriter
mean-- that one becomes an indefatigable (and indelible)
pencil pusher. I did get the loan of a machine at
Battalion Headquarters for a few hours to make out my May
pay roll, but only the sergeant major could silence the
angry buzz of clerks who all wanted to use it at the same
time.
I could tell you a great marry things that we have not,
that we seem to get along fairly well without, although
some of the boys naturally become rather restless at
times. There are no Y.M.C.A.'s here-abouts or supplies of
reading matter--except the one-day-old Paris or London
paper, the latter costing five cents sometimes for two
pages. But it is not convenient to tote a library on
one's back, and I don't have any time for lying around. I
do get out for a walk occasionally, and on practice
hikes. We have reached the point where we can pack up our
office, dispensary, and personal equipment within a
couple of hours if necessary --and know where everything
is, too.
To transport our medical chests and for errands to
near-by towns where some of the units of the regiment are
stationed, we have a high two-wheeled cart, drawn by a
mule who has his own ideas about being attached (so to
speak) to the Medical Department. On various occasions he
has tried to sit, kneel, and spin on his hind legs with a
view to a freer life. The driver (a Supply Company man)
brought around a slip the other day, when starting out to
carry a load of stretchers, and requested that the time
of start and return be noted down and signed for. He
remarked bitterly that the Transport officer, his
"boss," must think he would otherwise start on
a joy ride!
The Britishers in this area have had hard work to
decipher us. The more polite have taken it for granted
that our list-to-starboard caps indicated that we
belonged to the American Aviation Corps, but some Of the
very un-Anglo-Saxon types have led others to inquire
whether we were Portuguese troops!
For an hour each day (half morning and half afternoon) we
are required to go about our affairs wearing gas masks,
for practice. One man went off his horse and another off
his bicycle today while operating under artificial
air-supply, but those were the only casualties, At
first-the natives were afraid a gas attack was
anticipated. Now we get only hoots. Speaking of
"hoots." which is peculiarly Scotch, I find
that the wearing of bare knees is not, confined to the
Highlanders. The British "shorts" that the hot
weather brings out are like running trunks, reaching to
just above the knee. Spiral puttees or long stockings
cover the lower leg. How juvenile we should feel in such
a rig.' However, feelings about appearance got hardened
once one has decorated himself with a "tin
Lizzie," The unregenerate name for a steel helmet,
and has met the criticisms of comrades-in-arms. One must
have a particular architectural build to carry off such a
basilica dome of a bonnet. I seem to be saying a lot
about what we wear. We ourselves are becoming well used
to the same clothes, since with the prospect of sudden
alarums and excursions, and for the sake of warmth, we
stay considerably dressed up at night,
At each new landing-place, so far, I have found it easy,
and very cheap, to get washing done. That is the only
expense that does not mount high, if one bothers about
purchases at all. I bought a rubber wash basin in a
near-by town for three dollars, and was Happy to get it
at that. Chocolate is one thing that we often do empty
out our loose change for, provided we can find any that
is edible.
Of course it is reasonable to expect to pay well in this
region. I hear the guard advising two lieutenants next
door to snuff their candles, and I expect he will catch a
glimmer in here soon--so good-night.