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Letter From An American Soldier: Crossing the Atlantic Ocean
By Lyn Allyn
September 10, 1917 Darling Wife, The censor will probably not allow me to say more than I am safely on my way to Europe, probably England. We are having a great time, the adventure of my life. The sea runs high tonight; I almost got knocked overboard by a wave just as I walked below from the forward deck. We were paid thirty-six dollars on the eighth. When I get to our destination I will send you some to put in the bank. So this is Halifax! On the eleventh morning of September we woke at 5:30. Boys who slept on deck said, “Look out the port hole”. Land and ships were in sight. We steamed up the harbor, a long port like a river with little wharves jutting out – the long ones running lengthwise along the shore – and ships of all kinds. We past all this and dropped anchor in another bay beyond the city where three transports, four Belgian relief ships, an oil tanker, and several Holland and Denmark ships also rode at anchor. Of course as we came up the harbor we cheered all the troop ships. One ship dipped its flag for us as we passed. One of our special detail men said to me, “This is something you won’t get very often, the Union Jack dipped for you.” “Why?” I asked. “England only salutes her own ships”, he said.
At the entrance to the harbor, on the left, a big steamer almost as large as the Adriatic, sat wrecked. It had run ashore against the high bank. Half of it was below water, the rest up on the beach. Last night word was that we could write home and get the letters mailed in Halifax. Some said, “What is the use, you can’t tell anything.” You can’t tell what ship you are on. No one knows that this ship is still afloat, for she has been reported sunk on a dozen different voyages; the Germans swear they sunk her. She makes round trips across the Atlantic, ever since the war began, averaging six weeks per round trip. She is a Royal Mail steamer, one of the fastest afloat. Three more troop transports follow us. We wait here in Halifax, probably until a fleet of about twenty-five transports assembles, then a bunch of destroyers and cruisers convoy us across the Atlantic. They say there is no chance, of a life lost for if one of the ships sinks all the other l are on hand to rescue the passengers. On the trip preceding this, one ship out of twenty sunk, but everyone was saved. Another ship was hit twice but did not sink.
The sunset last night looked gorgeous. A long streak of clouds stretched far across the northwest sky like a monstrous bridge. The sun below the horizon shone up under the clouds, making them a most exquisite Chinese red. Another formation of clouds floating below looked like land and trees. It was wonderful. We hardly believe we are actually here. I always looked forward to crossing the ocean some time, but never dreamed it would come so soon or under such circumstances. It gives me a strange feeling of adventure to be out of sight of land. As some of the boys said, “There is too bloomin’ much water around this ship.” A wind picked up the waves during the day. Half a dozen hats blew away. Two boys smartly tied strings to their hats, walked up behind some fellows standing by the rail, and let their hats blow over. Up would go a yell of laughter, but when the hats stopped blowing and they pulled them back, the laughing suddenly died and the joker had his laugh. They worked the trick all over the ship. So far as I know there is no sea sickness yet, though some were close last night. The boys asked one of the English kids, “Does the ship ever roll worse than this?” “Good Lord” the kid cried with an English accent, “This is nothing. Wait till she fairly stands on end.” The boys in olive drab groaned. They wouldn’t believe it ever rolled worse, and kept teasing the kid to tell them it didn’t, but they got no satisfaction. It is great to hear these English sailors talk. We mimic them and try to memorize some of the expressions to spring when we get home. Our first night aboard, the sailors brought out their gambling games and got the soldiers to playing, trying to get their money.
There are many kids on the ship, ten and twelve years old, doing hard work. Can it be that England’s men are so much killed off that she has to use kids to man her ships? It looks that way. Paper is scarce aboard ship so my notes must stay brief. Your Loving Partner, Clarence Copyright 2006 Lyn Allyn. All rights reserved. This letter is an excerpt from my book: Love From Chezeaux: WWI Memoirs of Clarence Bush. It comprises a compilation of letters, drawings and nonfiction stories created by an American soldier, Clarence Bush, during WWI from the battlefields of France. |
American Soldier Writing Home, 1917
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War is a terrible thing, Lyn. But the people who have to participate in it are human beings, who love, and who have cares and dreams. Good job.
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