The Camp Upton Story, 1917-1921
Long Island Forum
February 1970
by
Norval Dwyer
ON SEPTEMBER 4, 1917,New
York celebrated the nationwide movement of the National
Army recruits into
camps with a huge parade up Fifth Avenue, from Washington
Square to 50th Street. Twenty thousand men marched, and
fifteen bands accompanied them. The marchers were not in
uniform. They came informally, dressed in business suits,
workmen's clothes, jackets, and shirt sleeves. Some wore
the typical straw hat of the day, others had on derbies
or soft hats; and many were bareheaded.
Not being used to military
marches, they ambled along in irregular rows, laughing
and talking together. Many carried small flags fastened
to canes, which they waved. A few groups carried posters,
such as "From Harlem to France", and
"Harlem's Hun Hammerers"
Thousands of people lined the sidewalks to watch, but
they were curiously silent as they looked over the
soldiers to be; and only once in a while did they break
into a smattering of applause.
The distinguished members of
the reviewing stand were more jubilant. Major General
Franklin Bell, who in Aug. had left his post as Commander
of the Eastern branch of the army to become the
commanding general of Camp Upton, was there. The
sixty-one-year- old veteran of the Spanish- American War
and of military action in the Philippines expressed his
approval, saying, " Splendid! Splendid! " His
peppery friend and military companion, a former President
and a Long Islander, Colonel Teddy Roosevelt, standing
next to him, was even more elated at the sight of this
potential army.
The next day, there was
considerable let down in enthusiasm because the New York
City and Long Island draft contingent had to wait one
more week for Camp Upton to get ready with minimum
requirements. But the following Monday morning two
thousand men gathered with their relatives and friends at
the 34th Street ferry, cheering and shouting, waving
fists, hats and handkerchiefs as they got ready to move
across the river to the special trains which would take
them to the camp sixty miles away
In the mean-time, out at Upton, Commander Bell and his
officers waited for the contingent to arrive The first
group was made up of eastern Long Island conscripts,
several hours ahead of the New York crowd. Three men from
the town of Southold were the first to cross the
threshold of the camp. Others had left from the Riverhead
Courthouse steps and were driven to camp by officials of
the local draft board.
No one seemed disturbed by
the fact that the great camp flag was not flying, or that
some of the sewer trenches were still open, or that
stumps abounded. They did notice that the buildings were
in every phase of construction; that "trench
diggers" were trenching for fire mains and sewers;
that steam rollers were laying permanent roads; and that
motor and horse drawn trucks and countless laborers and
carpenters were moving in every direction as far as the
eye could reach." They rather took all of this
unfinished state for granted; and they were more
impressed by the quality of the officers and the
courteous treatment of the recruits.
The men were temporarily
assigned to a barrack and the captain in charge, in
private life a Wall Street broker, took a brief biography
of each man. He was pleased to learn that some of them
were college educated and others highly skilled
craftsmen. One was a chemist, another a banker, another a
town clerk, and another an expert machinist and
chauffeur.
Next, the captain had other
officers issue to each man two heavy Army blankets, two
tin plates, a large agate cup and a knife, fork and
spoon. Then they were given cot numbers and taken to the
sleeping quarters upstairs. They were then taken on a
tour of the big barrack. The mess hall was on the main
floor, "plain and somewhat rough, but absolutely
clean and quite substantial". It included a large
kitchen "where spotlessly clean cooks" were
preparing for the first camp meal at noon. While the
visitors stood there a quarter of beef was brought in and
carved.
The Riverhead News observed that "While the new
soldiers must of necessity rough it in certain
particulars -like each man washing his own dinner dishes
and being responsible for his own clothes and blankets
and general equipment-there are conveniences not dreamed
of in previous great wars; for besides each barracks is a
separated building in which there are ten shower baths,
for instance, and numerous other toilet
arrangements."
The tranquil beginnings of this first day were short
lived, ending with the arrival of the trains from the
City with the jostling, noisy soldiers, tired from their
long cramped ride, many still grasping the flags on canes
they had carried in last week's parade. The trains were
shunted into the camp, and the recruits still in their
civilian clothes, scrambled down and were marched along
the dusty roads to the mustering in headquarters, led by
their broad hatted, khaki uniformed officers.
A reporter from the Brooklyn Eagle noted that the men
from Eastern Long Island "were a fine looking set of
fellows, well built and with a freshness of face and
quietness of manner that contrasted with the men who
arrived from the city." One of the local boys from
Bridgehampton was astonished to see how much shorter the
city men were and the foreign accents all around him made
the place seem like a Tower of Babel.
One of the camp officers, a year and a half later,
recalled that the recruits arriving that first day had
been a motley crew, with every type represented "the
gunman and the gangster, the student and the clerk, the
laborer, the loafer, the daily plodder, the lawyer, men
of muscle and men of brain."
A week or so later, members of New York's tough gangs
came in as draftees. They had declared a truce with each
other in order to fight the Kaiser's gang in a joint
operation. The gang from "Hells Kitchen" swore
to "Cook the Kaiser's Goose", and the Gas House
Gang and Gopleen Gang were with them all the Way.
An inventory of occupations among the drafted men showed
machinists, cooks, plumbers, bookkeepers, miners,
draftsmen, electricians, horseshoers, druggists, actors,
musicians, professional athletes, policemen, politicians
and veterinarians, in addition to boys just out of high
school, Laborers, and the unemployed. Many nationalities
were represented and interpreters had to be culled from
the crowd immediately. Notices were posted that all
commands were to be given in English. Foreigners
protested that they did not want to fight in Europe; but
the law had gone through that aliens must be drafted.
Violent protesters were arrested and placed under close
guard.
Before the draft contingency had time to settle down into
the stem business of training it was feted by the town of
Patchogue, 10 miles from camp. Patchogue was
patriotically preparing itself to meet the challenge,
aware that thousands of soldiers would soon flood its
bars, stores, restaurants, houses of ill fame, and
streets in general, during their weekend leisure time.
"We must treat them like our sons", said some.
"We must be prepared for the tornado cried others.
On September 2, about two weeks after their arrival, the
Camp Upton soldiers were invited to march in a grand
parade up Patchogue's Main Street.
Not only the
"Sammies" from the camp, but also the
"Jackies" from the battleship Oklahoma, quietly
stationed outside Port Jefferson harbor, marched in this
parade. Schools were closed for the day, and hundreds of
flags flew.
Veterans of other wars paraded with the soldiers, along
with 500 school children and Boy Scouts and Campfire
girls. The Elks marched, in their straw hats, blue
jackets and white trousers. The Women's Suffrage group
stepped along with their banner; the Women's Temperance
Union, the White Ribboners, had an elaborate float, as
did the local Lace Mill. The young farmerettes, dressed
in khaki, with hoes over their shoulders, were part of
the parade. Local bands and a camp band thumped out
patriotic rhythms.
That evening speeches were
made. The military but kindly mannered General Bell
stated that, like all professional military men, he, too,
hated war; but that he felt peace should be maintained by
constant military strength even in peace time
The highlight speaker of the evening was a vivacious Red
Cross nurse, an Italian Countess, who had seen action at
the front lines. She had been wounded twice, and still
carried German bullets in her body. Once she had been
blown off her bicycle by German mortar fire.
The more staid townspeople
were shocked at the frequent "damns and hells"
that escaped from her pretty lips as the nurse told her
story; but the broadminded admired her cosmopolitan dash
and evident bravery in the face of danger.
The concept of the drafted soldier in the National Army
encampment was a new and strange one to Americans.
General Bell wanted to establish good relations with the
community of Long Island and New York City. Good
newspaper publicity was important. On October 20 he
extended an invitation to members of the Long Island
Press Association to visit the camp and see what life was
like there.
Fifty editors assembled in the morning, and after a tour
they were treated to a lunch in one of the regulation
barracks, so that they could eat the same food the
soldiers ate, and under the same circumstances. The lunch
consisted of beefsteak with thick brown gravy, baked
potatoes, baked beans, coffee, and rice pudding with
plums in it. The editors were served on metal plates and
with metal forks, just like the soldiers'.
The editors had a chance to
talk with the recruits. Reports were favorable. The food
was praised. The breakfast menu, for example, included
three slices of bacon, two fried eggs, two peaches, toast
and coffee. They received meat three times a day. The
spirit of the men seemed fine. They praised the YMCA
entertainments, which brought in movies and notable
Broadway stars.
One of the officers
earnestly told the editors that democracy was one of the
big fundamentals of army life that the millionaire in
camp was no better off than the immigrant who could speak
no English. One famous rookie, who later was able to
vouch for the truth of this statement, was the composer
Irving Berlin, who at the time of his conscription at
Camp Upton, was the ragtime king of America.
But all was not pure honey
and butter for the 40,000 men stationed in the wilderness
of Long Island at Yaphank. Male human nature living in
isolated mass was far from human nature at its best. Army
officials, local town officials, and members of religious
and fraternal organizations made advance preparations for
the protection of both the soldiers and the community as
best as they could.
Before the soldiers came to
camp, army officials ordered 39 saloons in the area
closed, leaving about 34 open. The most rigid orders were
given that no liquor be served within a five mile radius
of the camp grounds. And no soldier in uniform was
allowed to take a drink. The rule was enforced by
military police and by the secret service men.
Intensive efforts were made to keep under control
problems involving women. The YWCA and other social
agencies sent out professional social workers and set up
local offices in the area ahead of time. One of their
tasks was to organize patriotic clubs for young girls to
help use up some of the fervor aroused by wartime. Towns
built special recreation centers for the soldiers, places
where they could play billiards, read magazines, and get
free refreshments.
Female visitors in camp under proper supervision were
welcomed. The War Council of the YWCA had erected three
hostess houses where soldiers could entertain their women
friends and hold dances. No woman was allowed in camp
unescorted, but YWCA workers were on hand to escort women
to camp. No woman was allowed after the late afternoon
Retreat had sounded. Soldiers were encouraged to invite
their families to visit the camp.
The YMCA, the K. of C., and the army chaplains set up
shop. The YMCA took leadership, and put out a camp
newspaper. It also brought in a wealth of free
entertainment. "I saw Mary Pickford, Douglas
Fairbanks, George M. Cohan," wrote a young private,
among a long list of such names he recorded. In October,
the famous comedian and singer, Scottish Harry Lauder,
came to Upton and sang for the soldiers. He surprised
them by singing a serious Scots ballad, and by his
subdued manner. On his arm he wore a black band of
mourning for his son who had been killed on the
battlefield in France.
It seemed hard to believe,
in the face of all this patriotic endeavor, that only
about six weeks after the camp officially opened,
saboteurs wrecked a Long Island troop train carrying
soldiers, killing one and injuring fifteen others. And
unhappy individual incidents occurred: a corporal shot
and killed a soldier and his woman friend on the grounds,
Another soldier killed a woman in a rooming house in
Patchogue. A sixteen-year-old girl became involved with
soldiers and ran away from home. Soldiers were admonished
for crowding the train to New York on a weekend leave.
Camp followers came out from the city and set up trade on
the fringes of the area and had to be forcibly sent away
by the county sheriff.
There were other problems
within the camp borders; Slackers and objectors. These
had to be severely punished. Sometimes a prisoner wore a
large bag around his neck and was marched around the
camp, filling his bag with large loose stones. He was
followed by a guard with fixed bayonet Others were put
temporarily behind a camp barbed wire confine. Others
received harsh jail sentences
Gambling went on in the barracks; also swearing, and
bullying of the weak by the strong. "Men here are
like animals", wrote the gentle young country boy
from eastern Long Island. "It is just like being it
prison here."
But General Bell was an
experienced, humane officer, who marshalled the forces at
his disposal, both army and civilian, to make the
existence of the draft contingent as bear able as
possible. Local people hearing him speak, were impressed
by his concern for their sons. Like Major 0. K Meyers,
General Bell fulfilled his responsibilities, one of which
was to keep the human element of the great national war
machine in balance, while at the same time preparing for
efficient service in its eventual primary task-killing.
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