Fort McHenry As I Saw It During the World War, Emily R. Williams

Time and the fortunes of War have scattered all of us who served together on Fort McHenry, well know in Army parlance of the World War as U.S. General Hospital No. 2. It was late in the summer of 1917 that this Fort was opened by soldiers from Fort Slocum and Fort Wadsworth, New York; and from Fort Howard, Maryland with something like twenty men. In the early fall that number increased to nearly fifty men under the command of Major Harry Selby Purnell and his adjutant Captain Samuel Harris. It was a well understood fact that old Fort McHenry started out in earnest to live up to its traditions and be a well regulated reservation. It was a great task, for at that time the Fort had a status of a National Park. At the beginning of the War the Government found it expedient to reclaim this post and to erect a large military hospital on the grounds. It was entirely through the capable and executive judgement of Major Purnell that this hospital came to be considered one of the most efficient general hospitals in the country.

Major Harry S. Purnell was the Commandant of Fort McHenry from the beginning until pursuent to orders from the Surgeon General's Office on July 4, 1919 formally relieved him from the command of the Hospital and he was succeeded by Colonel Henry Page, who like Major Purnell, was a Regular Army Medical Officer. Colonel Page had served some time with the A.E.F. in the Surgical Service of one of the largest hospitals in France. Our Commanding Officer, Major Purnell, commanded an essential efficiency in the Medical Department and in the Sanitary Corps. He was a medical officer himself, which fact proved the test of many military disasters, well know to be due to a lack of medical knowledge or preparedness.

Here, let me add a bit of general information. The American Medical Association at the time of the War had 81,000 members and it placed at the disposal of the United States Government its entire membership and its facilities. The complete record of every graduated physician, his education and local standing could be utilized by the Surgeon General of the Army. The Graduate Nurses were likewise qualified through their training schools and those who were enrolled on the Red Cross Nursing Service. This latter group was turned over to the Army and Navy Nurse Corps as Reserves.

All general hospitals were maintained by an efficiency board; that is, the three chiefs of service — medical, surgical and laboratory, with the Commanding Officer as the logical head. This board rule on all of the policies as well as the activities and the administration of every detail of the place — the construction and the sanitation as well as the entire personnel, military and civilian.

Major Hermann W. Johnson who had served with the Royal Army Medical Corps as Battalion M.O. while at Vimy Ridge, was assistant to the Commanding Officer. He was a good fellow, which no one could deny, and always had the interest of the hospital patients and personnel at heart. He was an exceptionally fine dancer.

Under the direct supervision of Major Samuel C. Baldwin, of Utah, a large flower bed in the form of the medical caduceus was laid out between the Surgical and Medical Buildings, and the remainder of the plot grassed. The building of Wards went on and the Staff, nurses, and corpsmen obeyed orders with much difficulty, trying not to get in the way of the builders. The building of Wards were under Army construction but the laymen builders were from a firm in Baltimore. There were very careful not to cut down any of the large old trees at the Fort that might possibly have been saved. In the building of the seawall wards there were several large trees in the building line. I remember on one occasion Major Purnell went to Washington to try to save them, but to no avail. How grand when people try to save beautiful old trees!

One of the first objectives was the Liberty Loan Campaign generaled by Simon Bloak. Many of the soldiers were allowed to go on these trips to the various towns in the State to help raise the quota for the town or to help put it over the top, for which it received one of the new Flags of Liberty which the Government was presenting to every town the made the goal. Officers, Nurses, enlisted men all subscribed to bonds to the value of more than $22,000, and, considering the $30.00 per month income, this made a mighty good showing. The men on Fort McHenry had good reason to be proud of their efforts on behalf of the Liberty Loan. I would like to add that Chestertown, Easton, Centreville, Cambridge, Pocomoke, Princess Anne all raised over $1,000,000. Rousing patriotic speeches which instilled new loyalty to the cause into the hearts of all who heard — as proof of the patriotism of the people of the Eastern Shore.

Bob Lee, 11th Engineers told me Berlin, Maryland (Population 1,600), Snow Hill (Population 2,200), Stockton (Population 600) and Pocomoke (Population 2,000) totaled $225,700 and that my readers was the home area of our Commanding Officer. The patients who went on these trips were chosen from those who had already been overseas, and who had some ability in speaking to groups, and who were doing satisfactory work in the vocational school. Those who went, returned with wonderful reports of royal welcomes everywhere. They all said they had been beautifully entertained and had a delightful time.

We would often receive convoys of patients from France, directly from Norfolk and Newport News off the ships, and one of the early batch of sixty-five patients — none of them very ill, being returned medicals to the United States for check-up. All of them were ambulatory and were distributed to Hospitals nearest their homes for their final discharges. I remember a large detachment of shell-shocked. The gassed men, even when walking around, seemed to gasp for breath. They left the impression that they were restless and could not sit down. The first one I ever saw seemed to be in a miserable condition. He had just been discharged, totally disabled and was going to his home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He had been the Superintendent of Motor Power Works in Pittsburgh, and was with the 117th Engineers in France.

Private Charles G. Hopkins of Madison, Texas, who was wounded in November 1917 and who did not come into our hands from the various hospitals in France until June 23, 1918 from Toul, France, CLAIMS to have been the FIRST AMERICAN WOUNDED IN ACTION.

Sgt. Hubert Hill of Loftin, Texas had mustard gas poisoning. He was in the trenches of the Verdun front for three months and was also gassed on April 7, 1918. He came to us about June of that year. Following those two men came four from the torpedoed "President Lincoln." Only one, as I remember the story now, could tell us the real story of what happened. Private C.M. Roberts, 119th Machine Gun Co., Wisconsin Headquarters, described the torpedoing as follows:

"We were a day and two nights out from a French Post when, with several others leaning on the rail, we saw what seemed to two huge fish plowing through the waves. I called the attention of an officer near me. The latter gave a cry "submarine." A moment later we were struck by both torpedoes. It was about nine o'clock. There was no panic and the men climbed into life boats in orderly fashion. The President Lincoln, one of the largest fighters afloat, soon went down, stern foremost, and we found ourselves in the open sea, the other ships having steamed away, according to the usual orders, at the first signal from the victim. Presently we sighted a craft in the distance and began pulling towards it, but what was our horror when we found it to be a huge submarine, the same that torpedoed us. The crew of fourteen soldiers came out on the deck and spoke to us through an interpreter. They were looking for the Captain of the President Lincoln but he was disguised in a sailors uniform and he escaped their notice. One nearly frozen sailor on a life raft attracted their attention and they fed him food and coffee. The submarine followed us for hours but finally disappeared. Later, after fourteen hours in the water, we were all picked up by a couple of destroyers and taken into port, where we were all sent to [an] American Hospital. The greatest distress was the intense sea-sickness we all suffered on our journey back to land. We felt no fear when we were torpedoed or at any time until we reached land, but on the trip home on the President Grant we were nervous as kittens, and would jump at the slamming of a door."

Private William Rowland of Los Angeles, California was gassed while on Ammunition Train duty near Toul, France. "One night," he said, "all the wagons were tied up, and somehow the Germans found out about it, and they concentrated their artillery fire on us. About four of the wagons were destroyed before the others could be driven away. Some of the men were hit, but none of them were seriously wounded.

Sgt. R.W. George Co. A. 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, was wounded in the right arm and abdomen by a piece of high explosive shell. The Sergeant was somewhat reticient as to his experience, but from Hospital records we learned that he was severely wounded, he half walked and half crawled four miles to a dressing station, his right arm useless holding with his left hand his abdomen which had been ripped open by a fragment of shell. Sgt. George had a platoon of men consisting of eleven machine gun men and eleven infantry men, to carry and handle ammunition, and two machine guns. They were advancing forward from shell hole to shell hole firing as they advanced. Sergeant George was in the act of crawling out of a shell hole when a high explosive shell landed right in front of him and he was knocked back into the hole on top of his comrades. He was dazed but conscious, and placing the platoon in charge of a corporal, ordered the men forward, he then crawled to the top of the hole, but was too weak to walk, so he lay there for a while in the hopes of receiving assistance. He bound up his wounds as well as possible and started to look around to size up his position. His head was exposed, for he had lost his tin hat, and continuing his story in his own words — "I found myself wondering how much noise a piece of shell would make if it struck me on the head, I was interested in the result, and while thinking it over and over, I gradually felt my strength returning, so walked a little and rested a little until I finally reached a dressing station."

Private [Patrick?] Grogan, had a healthy dislike for all Germans, and was not in favor of treating them gently, holding to that opinion that, like the Indian in the proverb, the only good German is a dead one. One day in the midst of battle Grogan's Company Commander came to him with a German under-officer and told Grogan to take the prisoner to Headquarters for examination. Shortly after, the Captain was surprised to see Grogan mixing gleefully in the scrimmage. So, going over to him, he said, "Grogan, what became of your prisoner?" "Well" said Grogan, "it was like this soor, I was marching him back in foine style when, suddenly he stopped, soor, and as I had received no command to halt, I kept right on walking; unfortunately my bayonet went right through him."

I was a member of the National Red Cross Nursing Service, Badge No. 18288 with card signed by the famous Jane A. Delano, who was the head of that Service. I was assigned first to the Public Health Service under Miss Lucy Kinnegerode, who was head of that Service, with orders to report to Camp Lee, Virginia, under Colonel Draper but was later transferred to Fort McHenry, Maryland. When my orders came to me, I nearly broke my neck to get my few belongings together and report to the Commanding Officer "as soon as possible." Who of you did not do just as I did? Later on, after you had reported found that you could have continued on with your orderly mode of living and reached your destination in plenty of time to fulfill your orders. The Red Cross Nurses were automatically tuned over to the Armed Forces of the United States.

Although I had been on the Fort for some time — it was early in March when I made "rounds" with my chief nurse, Miss Anne Williamson. It was my first trip all over the hospital and I little dreamed then, that later I would make that trip twice each night over a much larger hospital space. How delighted we nurses were when Miss Clara Noyes, Assistant to Miss Jane Delano of the Red Cross, came to spend the day and night with us. She had been the guest of the Maryland State Association at the Johns Hopkins Hospital and Miss Williamson had taken a group of the Nurses up to the meeting. It was my privilege to escort her to Union Station on her return trip to Washington D.C. and our personal friendship grew stronger from that time until her death. We found that we had so many mutual friends.

Mary Gavin, Hazel Baer and George Allen Hutton came to us to take the chief nurse course. Miss Gavin stayed a short while before taking Base Hospital 42, The Maryland Unit, overseas. It was composed of many Maryland Nurses. Miss Baer took charge of United States Hospital No. 7 which was known as "Evergreen." It was here that the blind soldiers were cared for. Miss Hutton took charge of Camp Holabird during the flu epidemic but later went with her nurses to Columbus Barracks, Ohio and Cooperstown, New York. She is now in Baltimore, with the City Health Department.

The departure from our ranks we felt keenly, for we were quickly attached to each nurse that came to us all serving a common cause, and there was that handclasp of real understanding among us. Nurses went overseas as quickly as the men, and those who left for Unit 41 were Elsie Rhodes, Maude Minter, now down in Bohannon, Mathews County, Virginia; Katherine Pedigo, who has answered her last roll call; Lily Hirst, now Mrs. Fred Walworth, who was in Detroit, Michigan when last heard from; Agnew Brush, up in Mount Vernon, New York; Mabel Haworth, still in Public Health Service on Ellis Island and still as much liked by everybody.

Following them went dear Jennie Nelson and Maude Dobson for Unit T. Elsie Ritter, one of the most efficient nurses we had with us; Margaret McGrady (whose beautiful long auburn hair was the envy of many of us); Loretta Dalphe, now Mrs. Paul Duerr up in Albany, N.Y. (was a most popular girl) all left for Unit 43 — while I in regular routine turned over the nurses mess to Hazel Baer. I had installed a cafeteria service, which made conditions easier for those who followed me, and facilitated much time. My next charge was the largest medical wards in the Hospital, 212 beds in "J" and 79 in "H". The patients were mostly ambulatory however, and the Corps men were splendid. Where is my first Corps man, Gugenberger? He was a fine young man and I would like to hear from him wherever he is.

Lt. W.D. Cawthorne from Florida and Lt. Maxwell C. Montgomery from Rome, New York were the medical officers in charge. They were two of the finest men on the Fort. Lt. Montgomery was afterwards in Headquarters office with Captain Harris, and both Harris and Montgomery won the genuine affection and admiration of us for the fair and just treatment of all their associates. Wherever they are, may all the good fortunes of life be theirs.

That reminds me of the first seven patients who arrived after I took charge of "H". Three were from Louisiana, returned from the A.E.F who had been with Dr. A.A. Aycock of Houma, La. and one tells the story of Major Mallory Kennedy, New Orleans (with whom I went to school and then later trained with in the Hospital). He had settled in Pensacola, Florida to practice medicine before going to War. Dr. Kennedy has answered his lost roll call some years ago. It seems that Major Kennedy was seated at a desk in a ward in one of the base hospitals over there and he was brought an order to see his commanding officer at once. He left and an officer standing near took the vacated chair. A moment later a shell tore up the wing of the hospital, killed the major seated in the chair and wounded many patients. My good friend Elizabeth Collings Lee, a very distinguished Maryland Nurse who had been decorated for her bravery under fire for services rendered at the time, and who also had six battle clasps to her credit; later returned from overseas, was there and helped carry some of the wounded on litters that the corps men made from shutters from the windows. Major Kennedy was a casual at the time waiting orders to move on. Elizabeth Lee was one of the best friends I ever had. Dr. Eugene Hayward was there at #4.

Again more nurses leaving for the front were Hildred Van Amberg; A.B. Linn; Katherine Lee; all who went with Unit 33; and Christine Peterson, Margaret Chisholm and Stella Ann Hester May Ricketts (all one name) who were all from Sacramento, California went with Unit 47. Those California girls were fine. Helen Patterson came to take a Chief Nurse course, and was sent on to Fort Ethan Allan, Vermont.

During the Liberty Drive referred to, the nurses played their part too. In the huge parade in Baltimore City every nurse who could be spared from all the hospitals marched in one body, school for school. It was the most spectacular sight. Mrs. George Sargent, who was the Nursing Head in Baltimore for the Red Cross, was the Marshall of that group of women and from all reports, the line up must have been a beautiful sight. The military first line, twelve abreast, was from the oldest post, Camp Meade, while on the second line, twelve abreast was from Fort McHenry.

In the picture taken at the time, the line up was as follows: Gertrude Myers, Agnes Brush, Katherine Pedigo, Maude Fay, Katherine Burke, the author, Mabel Standiford, Mary Lynch, Mary O'Donnell, Elsie Rhodes, Margaret McGrady, Loretta Dalpe.

The line formation was good and the white uniforms with the Red Cross Cap and the emblematic blue cape with the red lining thrown back over the left shoulder made an impressive picture. We were led by Claire Craigen, a recently returned A.E.F. disabled nurse. She is in Baltimore today.

What hot weather that early summer was! There was a swimming pier back of the nurses gray home, (there was only one at that time.) This pier was built by the enlisted men and projected out some hundred feet into the Patapsco River. On late afternoons it was a most restful and popular place.

There was not always time enough from work, to take the time to dress and get up to town, so the nurses would rest a bit after duty and then with a bath and a fresh uniform (the only costume permitted at the time) would enjoy the impromptu dances with the officers of the Post. Many of the dances were followed by swimming parties where an official Paul Jones was danced quite properly in the water. Major Purnell and his wife were always with us; and all during my service those two well liked people tried to make all the nurses and women personnel feel that they were interested in our work and well being. Mrs. Albert Chatard, wife of our Medical Chief and Mrs. Nathaniel Jones from Cleveland, Ohio, wife of one of our Surgeons, Mrs. William Caulk and Miss Grace Littman, (noq Mrs. Henry Hamilton) were constant friends of the Official Party, and as time went on were missed when not present.

But did those officers know how to dance? I'll say they did not! They knew their medicine and they knew their surgery, but what the most of them knew about dancing was taught them in the reception room of the Nurses Home by tired nurses and Irving Goldberg, one of the Corps men. Many an officer sent some nurse a pair of new duty shoes after having ruined hers by constantly stepping on them during the lessons. I will give the officers cred — they did not take long to learn, and in a short time it was very enjoyable. The officers who came in later were more expert at the art than the first ones were. Don't think they were all beginners, some of them turned a wicked heel. Major Johnson, Major Chatard, Capt. High Wallace, Major Nat. Jones were past masters of the art. The Colonel himself wasn't bad. On April 30^th 1918 the rank of our Commanding Officer was advanced to Lt. Colonel, which delighted all of us.

The returned medicals came in early and were treated and given honorable discharges or S.C.D. (known to the layman as Service Connected Disability) and sent to their homes. The train loads of returned soldiers were convoyed in directly on those same old tracks under the same old sheds there today into our receiving wards. When the draft army from the surrounding camps needed surgical attention, there were over 150 hernia operations each week. This was done in the early days of the Fort while we were waiting for the returned wounded. Katherine Burke, from Stamford, Connecticut, (lovingly called "Billy" by all) was in complete charge of the Operating Rooms and there was a full quota on the operating staff with her. At first, she and Miss George Hutton used to give all the anesthetics. She now has complete charge of an operating room up in one of the New York Hospitals. She had not changed one bit in all these years; still unselfish and very loyal friend. She and I have kept up a deep friendship and she visits me each year at her vacation time. She was here in Baltimore last spring. No nurse ever stationed at the Fort a month could fail to qualify as an expert laundress and Miss Burke, now Mrs. Randolph, used to be urged to make it her life work, as she surpassed all the rest of us in this particular line.

The others were Claire Craigen; Anna Klein, still in Baltimore nursing; Iva Curtis, now Mrs. Bunny Grout, out of town; Betty Kines, married and living here and still nursing; Eva Mercy, who married Albert King, one of the enlisted men; still another was Meta Gould who married Charles Gray. On coming off duty she used to finish her slumbers and then try to go to breakfast at 11 P.M. How about it Bee?

The operating staff consisted of twenty nurses and eight nurse anesthetists with four corps men — So pressing was the work morning and afternoon shifts were necessary. The anesthetists were trained at the Fort by special anesthetists from the various teaching centers throughout the country, who were assigned to the Fort. These teachers were changed periodically, giving the nurses a varied course of instruction. Chief of these doctors were Major Ruth and Captain Metz.

Each operating unit consisted of the Chief Operator with four alternating assistants — Each surgical chief was already a well known authority on his particular subject. (In other words the Government would not allow its men to be handled by amateurs.) Then too, the distinguished visitors who were world widely known surgeons as they returned from overseas. The Surgeon General himself, General William Gorgas, made several visits and was most sincerely complimentary in his views and talks. Dr. V.P. Blair of St. Louis, Missouri was with us. He was noted for his plastic jaw work. To each table was assigned beside the surgical unit (that is the sectors) an anesthetist, an artist, who portrayed each step of the work done.

The Surgical Building was used entirely for fresh operatives. Patients remained in the building for 24 hours, then being distributed to the various wards. Due to the inadequate space two operating tables were placed in each of the four operating rooms. This, of course, was cut down during the flu epidemic when all clean surgery ceased. Time being devoted to rib resections and so great was the call for surgery, it was impossible to move them to the operating rooms — and due to the patients serious condition trays were set up in the operating rooms and the surgeons went from bed to bed doing rib resections. After the epidemic we began receiving the wounded and the plastic work began in real earnest. In the G.U. Work we had the five finest surgeons, Major Jonathan Edward Burns, Kansas City, Mo., Major Saunders, Fort Worth, Texas, Capt. Childs and Major Charles W. Hoffman from here in Baltimore. Then there was Lena Price, a grand ole girl who is still nursing in Baltimore at the U.S. Veterans Hospital - Fort Howard, Alice MacCauley was night supervisor; I followed her.

When Hazel Baer took over Evergreen, Mable Standiford and Betty Kines went with her. They were allotted the blind patients and with the exception of exchanging dance dates for the patients of both hospitals we did not see much of them. Once a month the nurses and officers alternated the places for the dances. On one occasion when we were coming home from one of the No. 7 dances we had to push the ambulance more than half way from Evergreen to the Fort. We would ride a few squares and then walk more, then ride a bit, and finally we reached home (the Fort) a distance of six miles much later than we might have, had the old bus been running O.K.

Mabel Standiford is married and living in Bel Air, Maryland where she is the county nurse and loved by all who meet and know her. She has not changed either. Hazel Baer, loving called "Teddy" is married to Dr. Leslie Jennings here and rearing her fine family.

On the first July 4th that Evergreen was in existence the hospital staff put on a celebration for the patients, in which the patients took part, by dressing up in costumes as animals and clowns. In the clean fun that existed those blind boys had the times of their lives.

At the Fort we did not always keep blind patients, although when the status of U.S. Hospital No. 7 changed, it gave us at the Fort a number of blind patients to care for. These men were under the guidance of the Recreational Aides ("Blue Birds" a very valuable asset for the patient and the Army). There were some thirty totally blind men in Ward 46 and they were closely watched over and aided in various types of craft work. They were taught English and typewriting and even public speaking.

Evergreen, out on Charles Street, Baltimore had been the home of John Garrett who loaned it to the Government for the specific use of the blind patients. The house was very large and the spacious rooms lent themselves readily to the comfort and cheerfulness which was created for these blind boys. The outside wards and barracks were built according to Government specifications. I do not feel that I can do justice to the place so will continue my story. Miss Miriam Morriss was the chief aide, and had supervision of the work in the wards and was active in making it the success it turned out to be out to be. There was also a Braille instructor. The blind boys did not always like their mail read to them, so Mary Miller (we all called her "Hazel") who was a Red Cross Canteen worker brailled them at home and created in those boys the desire to read. It gave them their initiative. She was the only woman in the Canteen Service then who could utilized her training in Braille, which she learned at the National Service School under the supervision of the United States Marine Corps at Great Falls, Washington, D.C.

Remember Sydney Medinger, Carl Brawner and Lewis Eugene McInnes? He has graduated in law, lives in Baltimore and is a very able lawyer. Mike Aaronson also at Evergreen lives in Cincinnati, Ohio and has been regularly ordained a Jewish Rabbi.

These blind boys deserve much credit and put to shame, many times we who do not always use our facilities given us to the same degree of usefulness. Henry Kendall also with these boys at Evergreen was taught massage there during his stay and afterwards at the Fort. He is now stationed at the Children's Hospital School doing splendid work with the crippled children.

Now, my regards to the Corpsmen. To some it was given to fight; to some but to serve the fighters — each helpless without the other; but when the final summing up is made, it will be found that for heroic devotion to duty, personal bravery and patriotism, the hospital corps men will rank with any other organization, be it infantry, artillery, or engineer corps. The stories of heroism and self sacrifice told about these wonderful men on both sides of the ocean cannot but fill one with admiration. These men, whose greatest ambition was to get into the front line trenches, must have had many silent heartaches when they were picked for the hospital corps. But brave men do not have mean spirit, and these men went efficiently on, fitting the sick and wounded soldier for his return to civil life. May the Good Lord bless every single one of them. It would be interesting for you readers to obtain a copy of "INTERNED" by Major G.W. Polhamus, published in the Army and Navy Journal 1919.

Remember Sgt. Frank Truitt? He was a grand dancer and remember when he had the mumps? He lived in, and is a very prominent citizen of Ocean City, Maryland. Captain F.W. Mathewson was transferred from Base 48 while they were training with us to U.S.G.H. No. 2 as mess officer and later was made commanding officer of the entire medical detachment. He was very much liked by all the men for his square dealings with them and he married Nell Pickering, one of the most attractive nurses. I think they live in Orange, New Jersey.

There were various departments on the Fort which certainly deserve more mention that I can give them. The school of telegraphy was considered first class in every way. Soldiers with one or even two legs off were taught and could do efficient work. I remember that the loss of an arm was not even a disadvantage in this line — and telegraphy as studied by those boys played an important part in the rehabilitation of our wounded men. With the first convoy of sick soldiers came one convalescing from pneumonia and finding time on his hands, went to the chief officer, Major W.H. Henderson and secured permission to fit up a small unused building adjoining some of the old officers quarters along the city wall of the Fort, and to teach telegraphy to other men who found hospital convalescent life unbearable. Up to this time there had been no provision or appropriation made for any such work in this country. Major Henderson was so enthusiastic over the idea, he dug deep into his own pockets and purchased the necessary instruments and batteries. The school was a big success from the start, for the patients were taking to the idea with as much enthusiasm as the Major did. The success of the school finally reached Washington by the grapevine route and after a comprehensive plan had been outlined by the Government for Vocational and Therapeutic work, a school of telegraphy was planned for each hospital. I think we turned out a number of men so well fitted that they are in civil life today working as telegraphers. The school was one of the most complete in the country, Lieutenant Walter L. Vanaman was responsible and in charge. From the Educational School came the Shoe Shop, well equipped and which not only repaired old shoes, but made new ones.

All types of signs around the place were from the Sign Shop. Private R.W. Smith, one of the members of the sign painting department, received $500.00 as a prize for a poster he had contributed during the War Saving Stamp competition. These soldier patients also made the artificial limbs and braces which were used in Major Baldwin's orthopedic wards, where patients with fractures or diseases of the bones were treated exclusively.

Pvt. Joseph Lewis Weyrich was the instructor in Commercial Art. He was well known in Baltimore and a painter of some note. I was on duty at the time of his last roll call — October 8, 1918.

There was book-binding, jewelry making and designing, carpentry with the what-nots and what-have-you-got-to-sell? All of the proceeds went to the disabled patients.

The hospital received many beautiful blankets, composed of knitted squares of many colors. They were a few left over after giving each patient one; and those were divided among the stationary nurses. Two were outstanding; the one that Nurse Celina Finnegan received which was gray with an immense Red Cross in the center — and the one that I received was of various multicolored squares. In the direct center was a wide orange and black border with the American Flag centering that. It is very beautiful and I have used it every night since the day it as given to me. God bless the ones that made it.

Who remembers riding down on the old Carey St. Car (midnight) and hearing the old conductor in his squeaky voice call out "All out he-ah, Foot Mic Han-ray?" Remember when some one up in town asked Major Jones' wife where Ft. McHenry was? She told them "at the end of the third smell." She was right, for the first was the guano plant, the second was the sugar refineries, and the third was the fertilizers at Curtis Bay.

Various types of entertainment were provided by different groups and interests for the benefit of the patients, and the entire personnel were included. Colonel Purnell selected only the highest type. Headliners from the Maryland Theatre (vaudeville) came weekly. Private George Gaul deserves much credit, for he organized some forty musicians and under his capable leadership, they gave wonderful concerts. Every one of you were down there will recall Sgt. Leary with his glorious voice and John Wilbourne with his "Roses of Picardy" and "Mandalay." There were few that could excel him then. Jeffries, the noted ventriloquist; and the Galbraith Bros. (who were well known in America and who were Royal entertainers abroad). Many others just as prominent came to the Hospital. For all this there was no pay — other than the smiles from the patients and the general applause. We had with us in the enlisted personnel ten professional musicians and no wonder we had such a fine band. Sgt. Cutty (one of the original "Seven Musical Cuttys") was continually in smiles. His aid and advice meant much.

All this music recall Chaplain Perry Wilcox. He knew the ropes and was a regular fellow. Where is he now? And remember Chaplain John Cotter? And Father Callahan? They were not only preachers but mighty fine and understanding men. We had services in the historical old chapel every Sunday, with masses for the Catholics at 6 A.M. and 10:30 A.M., for the protestants, while each Friday night 7 P.M. there was a Jewish Service and on Sunday nights there was a singing Service for the Methodists. At first the chapel was crowded, but towards the last it was much more comfortable. The old stove was removed and steam heat was installed. The seating capacity was enlarged and all this was done through the contingent fund of the Post. Chaplain Wilcox tried to make the religious phase of life at this Post as strong and valuable as possible, and left no stone unturned to provide the very best service for folks of every faith. Before Lieutenant Syrop went overseas he married Miss Rena Fleishman, sister of Jerry Fleishman. Miss Mary Caple married a one-handed man. He was fine man, I don't remember his name although I saw them married. Sydney Medinger, one of our blind patients, married Miss Mary Spencer, a Baltimore school teacher. Private Perry Freshwater married Miss Anna Daniels of Baltimore. All these weddings took place in the chapel and were performed by Chaplain Wilcox. Private Wyman W. Kelly, 50^th Infantry from Curtis Bay, one of our former patients, married Miss Amanda Fitzpatrick.

Just to the east of the main road was the ivy-covered chapel, where many memorial services has been held for the wearers of the blue; any many were held for the soldiers of 1918. Right around the little road to the rear and south of the chapel was the ground that for many years was the burying place of the soldiers. All these bodies were removed some years ago to the National Cemetery next to Louden Park, Baltimore. Just down the main road and opposite the band stand was the building which was formerly used by the buglers, who sounded Reveille over the campus of the Fort. It was in this building that George Martini, the man who escaped death at Custer's last stand, spend many years as a bugler at Fort McHenry.

When Miss Annie Goodrich started the Army School of Nursing, our Chief Nurse, Miss Anne Williamson, was chosen as one of the Directors of one of the Branches. The school was stationed at Camp Grant, near Rockford Illinois, and had been opened to meet the great demand for nurses in the service, which gave pupils a three year course, pupils being takenn every four months, thus releasing an equal number of graduate nurses. Miss Williamson left the Fort much to our regret for we had grown to love her, but all of us realized how wonderful for her to have such an opportunity. Later, she was principal chief nurse of the Army and stationed at the Walter Reed Hospital in Washington. She is retired now and living in San Francisco, California. She proved herself a very wonderful woman and efficient nurse in her long years of service to her country. (I had the privilege of speaking to that first class of nurses when they were over at the Walter Reed Hospital and the present Chief Nurse of the Veteran's Administration today was in that class.) Miss Callie Woodley came as Miss Williamson's successor, and by her calmness in a short time won a place for herself in our hearts. Remember Celine Finnegan? She was from Boston and you always knew it. She is living in Los Angeles now and when Margaret Collison Hale went out to the National Convention of the American Legion in October, 1938, she saw Celina and tells me "she is as pretty as ever, just as stout and still has that sweet smile." Miss Woodley brought with her from Camp McArthur, Texas, three nurses, Mary Marne, Lois Toomer and a stretcher case, Nora Swartz, who had been ill down there quite a long time from measles. She was with us for some months and desperately ill. She had the small room on the main floor of the Surgical Building. There were always three nurses with her doing eight hour duty (the first of the kind in specialling) and finally after being motionless for months she was able not only to move but to speak. When she was well enough to leave the Fort I took her to her home in St. Joseph, Missouri. We had an uneventful trip, although the unloading of the stretcher in St. Louis was in the pouring rain and the uncoupling of the coaches made the train we were to take wait for over an hour while the train assistants worked to have everything done in true Army routine. We finally reached the hospital (from which she graduated) at midnight in the drenching rain and the Sisters and doctors who received us were aghast at the wonderful care that had been given her by the Army nurses. Too much praise could not be given with thanks. I had a letter from her years later.

People generally found it hard to appreciate what was being done for the crippled and wounded soldiers. They could not understand why soldiers were taught to knit with their feet in plaster casts and with their hands supported by steel plates. The men in plaster needed the protection of the casts. The boys with the steel plates had been paralyzed. Those plates were to support their weak wrists. Paralyzed hands need exercise and knitting was light occupation which required use of many muscles.

There were also a number of patients whose sickness was mental rather than physical. Their brain or their nervous system was affected but they seemed normal because the rest of their bodies were normal. They were treated with the utmost care and sympathy and were shown every consideration. Every effort was made by doctors, nurses and corpsmen to try as much as possible to prevent them from thinking of their abnormal state. Whenver I go to Perry Point (the Government Veteran Administration Hospital for mental cases) my mind wanders back over the years to old Ward 19, with Major Arthur Herring in charge, and his splendid efficient nurse, my friend Charlotte Snow (now over at Sinai Hospital, Baltimore.) Major Herring was nationally known for his work in Mental Hygiene. He too has answered his last roll call, but a finer and more beloved man never lived. I attended his funeral with Arthur Sewall, a good friend of mine and one of the soldiers from Evergreen, and who now has charge of the Flag House in Baltimore (National Interest) and is the possessor of a Seeing Eye Dog. He has become a most efficient and interesting person.

Then, in remembering back there is always something in the sight of soldiers going away to War that moves us, however matter of fact or unsentimental we may be, and there were very few of us who watched Unit 48 go aboard the train on those same tracks at the Fort, who were not a little sad and got a tightness at the throat and other sensations indescribable; but more unsettling, if somewhat harder to localize. Though we were soldiers ourselves, the thought came like a flash -- a soldier's life -- as those departing, we knew to the last detail their own heroic lives, as we knew our own. There was something in the changed situation, in the fact that these men and nurses were being sent back to the Front -- and those of us who stayed behind turned back to our work with a sigh, and you might as well confess it between ourselves -- a pang of envy.

Nevertheless our work was here and no less heroic or glorious than the ones who went over. There would be no waving of flags for us, no sense of a danger faced in common, by the comradeship of Americans together on a foreign soil -- the uplifting spirit of the Crusade for a Great Cause; but it was we, who had to recreate out of the wreckage of war -- clean whole and useful men -- fit to fight, or live ina better world we intended to have after the fight was ended. Ours was the responsibility of building up in that small part of the great battlefields, far away from the sound of all the big guns, a dream community where we could all share the joys of work well done and the refreshment of wholesome play together, where non should be idle or discontented, or out of harmony with the common effort. Only in that way could we prove that we were fit for democrasy not only to fight for it, and to die for it but to live for it.

In charge of Base 48 was Major Honan; Mort Pringle who kept the Post Exchange while they were with us; Top Sgt. Jim McBride; Harry Riggs; Earle Wood; Dennis Hughes; Ralph Ledwell, Henry Perry (some months later I understood that those boys were in Paris on furlough the day of President Wilson's reception and you should have heard the conversations first hand as we heard them the night some of them returned to us. There was a general old meeting for them.)

The officers who left were Major Albert Chatard, (such a delightful man and such a good one); Major Alfred Roope, from Columbus, Indiana; Lt. Monday; and Captain Saunders. Of course, the entire 200 enlisted personnel filled the train. Major William E. Leighton from St. Louis, Missouri left at the same time. The nurses who went were Loretta Dalphe, Elsie Ritter and Margaret McGrady.

They had only been gond a few days when Unit 78 left taking from the nurses Hazel Greenleaf, Misses Hunter, Strand, Watts, Burney and my good friend Ellen Schaeffer; who is now the widow of Dr. Raymond Haines. She is living in Shillington, Pennsylvania and educated her two fine children. She is another of my loyal and wonderful friends.

I have before me the picture of the Fort McHenry Band. Sgt. George Gaul leading and Sgt. Cutty and Lt. Buff on the side as Aide. The queer sounds that come from the back of the Nurses Home bespoke of a band in the making; however they made good.

One thing that used to be difficult to met was the constant changing of the staff. One week there would arrive a dozen new nurses and as many doctors; and that same week a whole outfit of men would leave.

A returned colored patient told me that the only reason for going over the top was simply "Gah-nite Malindy and Gay-Mawn-in Ja-sus."

Our own chaplain told me he saw two civilians looking with awe at the insignia on his coat collar. "Look at that" said one to the other "He's got the War Cross."

Who will ever forget Major Sydney Strass? In examining an Italian boy by the name of Marini, "Say ahh" but Tony said "no taka da anglish, Doc."

We had many amebic patients but, strange to say, with the particular treatment of Capt. Montgomery and Lt. Cawthorne, their trouble was arrested and gave us and them no more worry. One little patient was a returned Belgian, Sergeant Zeyer. He spoke the most exquisite French I ever heard outside of Paris and New Orleans. I remember Mrs. Marguarite Harison came down to interview him. She was the popular "Sun" reporter.

And now lets talk of baseball -- that appeals to everybody, or should. I will go back as far as April 1918 when by Presidential proclamation the day was set aside as Liberty Day. The American people were called upon to assemble in patriotic meetings and pledge anew their allegiance and their fortunes to the cause of democrasy. At the Fort the da was fittingly celebrated. All soldiers who could be spared from their work marked to the Star Fort shortly after one o'clock where a wonderful program was carried out. It was opened by the trombone solo by Sgt. George Gaul "The Star Spangled Banner" and Chaplain Wilcox gave the invocation. Capt. Norman Cole read the President's message of April 18, 1918. I don't remember the name of the orator but I know that he contrasted the principles of democrasy and aristocrasy, and recalled to mind that the German mistake of thinking that the American people were too opulent and too cowardly to fight. He extolled the glory of fighting for world democrasy and ended with a plea for generous support of the Liberty Loan.

Then we were invited to see a ball game between competing squads of officers. Colonel Purnell made home runs and Lt. Buff (one of the popular young officers) in making a hit cracked Private Ledwell on the wrist with his bat, a distance of 50 feet away. After that game we walked down to Latrobe Park, outside the gates of the Fort, along Fort Avenue some blocks off -- to see the enlisted men play. The cheering section was composed of thirty nurses and as many if not double more officers. The game was a close one, but the pitching of No. 2's Bender gave the Fort men the game. He was as good as any professional. He too has answered his last roll call.

Then about the end of June when the weather was so very warm, I remember another game snappily played between the Administratives and the Medical forces, which ended 8-5. Colonel Purnell and Captain Herman Cole pitched for the winning side and Major Albert Chatard and Captain Montgomery for the losers. The game was distinguished by many startling field plays on both sides.

Then, who will forget (and I am talking of those of you readers who were there that night) up in the old Auditorium on Howard Street in Baltimore, the minstrel show that Joe Sweeting put on with the No. 2 men? Three things stood out as high lights. One was the opening chorus of the then popular song "Anything's Nice that Comes from Dixie" and Jack Edelstein, 165th Infantry, rang down the house with his "Many of Mine" (long before the days of Al Jolsen,) while Joe Sweeting to whom the show owed so much, sang in is own inimitable way "Takes a Long Tall Brown Skin Gal." But the throb came when George Sauney sang "Forever is a Long Long Time." To the many going and coming, that song was a top-notcher for many a day. The melody seem to cling and memory awake. The funny side of it all was when Joe wanted to borrow everything imaginable from the nurses for the costumes, and while he said "Uncle Sam would furnish the shoes" he wanted a pair of red satin slippers. Can you imagine a Nurse taking something like that to War with her? We went up town and bought him a pair. Remember the Ballet skirt? the blond wig? and the huge bow of ribbon on the side of George's head? The performance was good. The famouse Baltimore Paint and Powder Club had nothing on them. I hope you readers realize that with all the work those hospital corpsmen had to do daily that they put themselves out for weeks and went to some effort to try and please our patients, and keep the morale up to par value. Too much credit cannot be given them.

I remember one morning my night nurse reported to me that we were in for a stretch. When the doctors made rounds we found that we were all quarantined by measles. It seems that a number of our patients had been contaminated and according to medical routine, and especially at that time, we couldn't risk any chances with our men. Our meals were sent over to us from the Mess Kitchen, and after we had sterilized the dishes we had with us on one side of the door before handling same out for fresh supplies on the other side of the door between the large wards, the meals were not as warm as they might have been, but that was a great crowd of patients with good old American sportsmanship. They did not like it, neither did we -- but we made the best of it and made close friends in those days, friends that today understand many of the whys and wherefores of our personalities. For seven days we harmoniously pulled through without any cases. Released -- Private Wagner, a returned medical from Utah took pictures of everybody so he could remember the most quiet time of his life, after he went back west. Capt. Nat Jones then took a picture of the entire group with Wagner in the center of all in their pajamas, out on the wharf back of the old Immigration Building. Then Wagner snapped Capt. Jones and Captain Montgomery and me.

My next duty on the Fort was the assignment to the Officers Ward which was located in the old red brick on the right of the walk as one entered the main gate of the Fort. Coming off duty one afternoon shortly after I had been in charge, I met Major Joseph Danna and Colonel Joseph Hume from New Orleans. They had brought Unit 102 from Camp Beaureguard, Louisiana with 200 men and officers. Colonel Hume was in charge and was ordered to take them into Italy. (They were a gift from a New Orleans patron, Mrs. John Dilbert, and she was financing the entire expense of the Unit, which was a Medical and Surgical Unit witha full quota of nurses, doctors and hospital corpmen -- but was given to the United States and was operated by Government routine and on the same status as all other medical and surgical units.) What a personal treat for me. There was Captain W.W. Leake, Captain Couret, Lts. Houtha, Comeaux, Callaway, Bragg, Patton, Hunter, Chaney, Captain Scardino and Sgt. Born who had charge of the enlisted men. The next morning I secured permission from Colonel Hume to snap the pictures of the men while drilling so I could send them to Dan Moore, the editor of the Times Picture in New Orleans, so he could reprint them and their own people could see them. Colonel Hume could see no harm in that, and while we were getting safe background, we shifted the column so that they backed a stone wall and there was no water visible -- just space -- (for there was a strict rule that pictures were not to be taken in Army Cantonments) our own Colonel sent word that I was to stop. However, the pictures were taken and Colonel Hume assured Colonel Purnell that we had been on the safe side, before the snap. I remember well I had permission to call them to "Attention." I wonder what other nurse in the American Army ever called a complete unit to Attention?

That night I coralled some of the Nurses and managed to get some enlisted men of No. 2 who played string music, and everybody went over to the Gym (of course, I had secured permission of Captain Harris, Adjutant). Colonel Hume had his officers there and by the time that the No. 2 officers wandered over to see what the music was all about we had been dancing and entertaining the Southerners for some time. My interest in them was that I had trained with a great number of them and I realized that they were as glad to see me away off in another part of the country as I was to see them. I was proud that Colonel Hume and Major Danna asked me to join their nurses and go with them -- but it was impossible. (Harmless fun like that hurt nobody and it was my way of showing Maryland hospitality.) Captain Scardino is in charge of Communicable diseases in Houston, Texas and Lt. Chaney is in Washington, D.C. with the National Rehabilitation of the American Legion; Major Danna and Captain Leake are in New Orleans.

It was a Sunday afternoon that the Unit 102 marched out of the Fort, up Fort Avenue to Andre Street and then to the footgate and the boat on which they sailed to Italy. They picked up their nurses in New York with all the ten Sisters of Charity, who were in charge of the group.

More of the nurses left to fill other units for their quota: Ellen Teale, Christine Ziegler, Anna B. Smith (who for years was here in Baltimore with the B and O Railroad) Christian Brown and my Friend Anna B. McLernon who is up in Newburgh, New York and from whom I hear often; Marion Thomas, who lived in Oil City, Pennsylvania. Then I recall such a nice girl Sadie Erb -- I wonder where she is and Miss Murphy who was on the Pneumonia Ward. Many of the boys have asked after these two nurses, but I have never had a contact. I would like to hear from them. So many inquires come to me for Murphy!

Then, one day later on, came the dropping of patients, one after the other with the flu. They dropped like flies. The adjoining camps sent to us their worst cases. An order came through and I was sent with Miss George Hutton as the Chief Nurse to Camp Holabird. She took six nurses with us and when the nurses had packed their belongings in suitcases, we drove down, a distance of ten miles. Reaching the Holabird Gate the guards waved wildly to us and ran along side of the ambulances, yelling to the others "Here come the nurses -- here come the nurses -- now those sick boys will get well."

One could hardly picture the tragedy on their faces, and I feel sure that we who saw them will never forget that picture. It seemed to awe most of use who realized that through our services we might be able to control to some degree a more healthy atmosphere, We drive at once to the commanding officer, Major Stewart, and then Miss Hutton gave us the order to clean up the recreation room. In this very large room, all the eye could see was a lot of cots, and on each cot was a sick boy, groaning and moaning, all huddled together. Poor kids. I do so often think of that sight. In a short three hours, every cot was made afresh, lined in orderly fashion, faces sponged, and each pulse and temperature taken and recorded. Each boy was given a cool drink of milk or orange juice. The sickest patients were placed in the ambulances and I took them back to the Fort with me for more serious treatment. Thus started another unit, and the nurses remained at the camp all during the epidemic, later to be sent to other camps for their honorable discharges.

The Surgical Chiefs were Major Ruth, Major Bissell, Major Herrick, Colonel Johnson, Major McDougle. The Eye Chief was Major John Wheeler from New York (and who died since I started writing this story) one of the most famous eye surgeons in the world. For the ear, nose and throat was Captain Cross, Lt. Lucian Buff from Atlanta, Georgia and for the brain was our own Captain Charles Bagley, Baltimore. Then there was Dr. Mike Egan and Dr. Russo and Lt. High Wallace (Dr. Hilton K.). In the Orthepeodic work was Major Baldwin; Major Hamilton; Major Alfred Roop; Major Leighton and Colonel Robert Taylor.

What a magnificant corps of splendid and efficient surgeons -- today the layman would say "What a clinic!" "How wonderful!"

At the Fort, during the epidemic the operating rooms were closed and the doctors and nurses went from bed to bed doing rib resections. At nights when the nurses needed sleep, it was impossible due to the death rales of their comrades in the adjoining wards. The medical care of the nurses was under the direct supervision of Captain Norman Cole, who did not have an easy assignment in handling a lot of tired women, even though it might have been pleasant. He acquitted himself with merit. He is a delightful gentleman and an efficient physician. I see him frequently and he is the same today as he was in the days of stress.

The nurses kept well, only after the flu did we lose many of the girls, and mostly those who had been overseas. The Maryland women kept on. Lean Price, who was then in the Orthepedic war[d], coming off duty one afternoon saw men leaning up against the door jams along the corridors, and heard them talking of how terrible was the flu. She went along unassumingly until she reached the Mess Hall, one of the nurses said to her "Oh my, have you seen the medical ward? It is filled with the flu." "Flu" said Miss Price, "What kind of a flower is that?" It seems that the Baltimore people were constantly sending quantities of flowers down to the patients and many times immense suit boxes were filled with them.

Celina Finnegan, Isabelle Roe and Margaret Ladd were quite ill, and there were too many other nurses to designate now, but they were game and kept on. Dr. Reifenstein followed Dr. Cole in this service. Both of these men had their problems, for with the exacting orders and the almost weekly changes of the staff and the changing of the Corps men -- the nurses had a problem within themselves. They were the last to watch over their own health. Fortunately, the Colonel had a way of watching over the entire personnel and everybody was on their toes, more or less, looking after anyone who showed the slightest sign of lassitude. Major Montgomery and Captain Cole then went into the Post Headquarters and were voted regular fellows.

One day when the first cases of flu appeared in the Hospital at the Fort we realized the enormous amount of work that would be thrown on the laboratory by such an epidemic. Their work had been of wonderful value as was shown in their reports. Most of the flu cases had a severe backache, headache, a racking cough, flushed face, infected eyes and as a rule, a pulse from 80 to 100, with a temperature from 101 degrees to 104 degrees. Most all of them were dull and apathetic and went to sleep no matter where they were -- on litters while being carried into the hospital, on chairs, or in doorjams, before being put to bed. They had to be aroused to answer questions. They only roused up to cough, or to take medicine or nourishment. They all looked prostrated and sick. All slept 12 hours, some 16 to 24 hours. The fever and prostration in mild cases lasted 48 hours. The patients would then begin to get up and sit on the edge of their beds. They were weak, some of the most severe cases had fevers three or four days. The cases that had fever longer than four days almost always proved to have broncho-pneumonia. A very noticeable feature in the early stages of these cases was the bleeding from some portion of the body. The laboratory statistics show fifteen percent suffered from epitazis. Everywhere one went he saw men with bleeding or packed noses. Pneumonia developed secondary to the influenza in many cases. Cases with friction rub were of such common occurrence that we could not give any reliable statistics as to the numbers. Emphyemas appeared at the end of the epidemic.

The chief of the laboratory service was Captain M.B. Levin who lives in Baltimore today. He is very efficient and his patients adore him. He is full of technicalities and entirely too modest; I have seen what he does for his patients.

The two commissioned assistants were Lt. T.A. Goodman and Lt. F.J. Pancoast. The Laboratory staff consisted of Sgt. O'Connell, Sgt. J.D. Campbell, Privates Nathan Levinson, Harold D. Jones, Clarence E. Rayner, John W. Searight, Vincent L. Shields, Paul M. Zimmerman, Arnold L. Swancara, Albert F. Viewheeler and William Weber.

There were eight women civilian employees under orders from the Commanding Officer. There were the Misses Grace Cumberland, Leonora Rider, Gertrude Tabbert, Mildred S. Adams, E. Ruth Adams, Margarite Jewell, Jessie Smith, and Mrs. Douglass Feltham.

In the laboratory there were the following divisions: bacteriology, serology, clinical pathology, chemical, and we had sheep, rabbits, guinea pigs, rats and mice as friends there. In reviewing the work of all the cases of influenza and pneumonia, as diagnosed at our hospital from September 1st to October 20th, 1918 our attention was called to the very common association of streptococcus hemolyticus with these conditions, and an attempt was made to summarize the laboratory work on all such cases from September 1, 1918 to January 1, 1919.

A bacteriological summary of sputa examined showed a great predominance of streptococcus hemolyticus over other organisms. All specimens of sputum were typed for pneumococci and nose and throat cultures taken and reports sent to the Surgeon General's office.

All carriers of streptococcus hemolyticus were reported to the Surgeons General's Office July 1918 for the months of May, June, and July, when we had very little of our respiratory diseases. When put out in the sunlight there was a marked decrease in the positive cultures. When removed from this and placed in the wards, there was a marked rise again in the Streptococcus hemolyticuc carrier to over 9000.

Pathological findings of autopsies were summarized. Most of our cases were good specimens of manhood. For the autopsies there was a male and female personnel.

A pleasant surprise for the commandant and the entire hospital group of the U.S.G.H. No. 2 was a COMMENDATION from the Surgeon General of the U.S. Army on August 6, 1919 Subject -- Empymea Report, Members of the Board were: Medical -- Lt. E.F. Syrop; Surgical Capt. A.D. Ferguson; Laboratory, Lt.M.B. Levin. Our Colonel was joyous and who wouldn't be?

Captain Levin was chief of the Laboratory service from the beginning of the Hospital to June 6th when he was transferred to the U.S. General Hospital No. 20 at Whipple Barracks, Arizona. He was transferred back to us at No. 2 on September 12, 1919.

FROM: The Chief of the Laboratory Service
TO: The Surgeon General United States Army
SUBJECT: Report of the Relationship of the Streptococcus Hemolyticus to Influenza and Pneumonia

The bright side of all the work was some of the real saying that went the rounds. Lt. Pink, who was stationed at Holabird and who used to visit some of his command and who were ill patients at the hospital during the flu tells the following:

New patient to O.D. who is taking his history -- "In civil life I was an undertaker."

New patient -- "You misunderstood me. I said I followed the medical profession."

We had a regularly known Post Office from April 1, 1918. Prior to that time, mail was delivered to the gates by carriers from Station C Baltimore. It was carried on from there to the receiving ward. It grew as fast as the hospital and was moved into a building opposite the receiving ward. Charles W. Hipkins assisted by Samuel Appler and Clark and Sam McNaughton of the No. 2 Detachment. Usually five convalescent patients helped to make possible good and quick deliveries. The building that housed this department was formerly the home of the crew of fire boat "Deluge." In the old days when Fort McHenry was a regular Coast Artillery Post, it was known as headquarters building, and in it were the offices of the Commanding Officer, Adjutant, and Summary and General Court Officers. Sgt. Major Riess had his offices in the building up to the time the FOrt was abandoned, which was in 1910.

In our receiving ward we had one man who was responsible for interpreting names, and who made it possible for others to return home to families and loved ones. Remember Emanuel Kohner? He solved many a problem for the Red Cross and Y and especially the ward nurses, whose job it was to have a man's name spelled correctly. He succeeded in mastering the most difficult combination of names, both peculiar and interesting, and which hailed from the countries of Syria, Mexico, Persia, Sweden, Russia, Italy, Poland, Greece. "Such nomenclature endings as iski, ouza, bakft, tfda, paugr, were to him as a grain of sand in the desert when a typhoon was at its highest." He was on constant call and I located him only since writing this article. He is in Baltimore and doing well, scarcely looking 20 years older.

The sudden death of the grandest old, Major Bissell, caused the advent of Major Guy Boughton. He had charge of the Orthepedic Service and his executive ability was shown by that service enlarging itself from one ward to the largest department on the Fort. He took entire charge of the surgery. Then he was transferred to the Fort Hospital in Detroit known as U.S. Gen. No. 36. Following him came Major George Christian Schaeffer who returned to us from his A.E.F. experience. He had been with us in the early days for a short stay and everyone who had known him was glad at his return to us. His specialty was maxillo-facial surgery and plastic surgery, one dovetailing into the other. Major Schaeffer saw service in all of the hospitals in France, and in many of the British ones.

I would like to tell you about this doctor, for so many of the patients are directly responsible to the normal return to life due to his technique. He was stationed for a time in Neuilly, just outside of Paris. As many of you doctors and nurses know this was the American Ambulance, and about the best known hospital in France and one of the best. He tells this story. He was at this hospital during the Chateau Theirry Drive, and was called on to do general surgery with an operating team; as, at that time this hospital was running as an Evacuation Hospital. The firing line being only about some 50 miles from Paris. There were many air raids and Paris was being shelled daily by "Big Bertha" the long range gun. He saw the explosion of the big range shell in the Garden of Twilleries, being only about 100 yards from it at the time of the explosion.

Then he was sent up to Neufshateau to the headquarters of the medical and surgical consultants with the assignment as assistant for the advanced section and zone of advance. This area had in it about 30 base hospitals and it was here, that an important part of the maxillo-facial service was established; that is, the first care of these cases after their injury. All cases of fractured jaws were wired or splintered in the first line hospitals and much of the primary suture of face cases were done in these hospitals. In this way, many jaws were preserved without the necessity for later bone-grafting, and many secondary plastics were avoided. There were a number of patients at the Fort that came directly from this sector and it did not take long to get them ready for their honorable discharge. Major Schaeffer is now in Columbus, Ohio.

In Ward A Arthur Flanders, Co. F 104 Infantry needs mentioning. It seems a bit of schrapnel removed a part of the bone of his arm but the skin grafting and the plaster cast over the arm and chest made his unpleasant stay in bed not at all alarming to him. He was valient indeed, for with the use of only one hand he would thread his needle by sticking it into the coat of his pajamas and strings the beads by spearing them on the point of his needle. He was an expert weaver and full of resourcefulness that made our men the record they did in France.

In the next bed was Private Collings Hadley, Co. R. 104th Infantry who got his in the leg and had to lie flat on his back 24 hours of the day. No better pals or more cheerful patients than those two could have been found in the Hospital.

When the patients were able to leave their beds but not their wards, they would work in the sun parlor workrooms which had been fitted up with benches and tools. When they were bedridden, they seemed to be most happy just working as is -- wonderful American spirit.

Who remembers these nurses? Edith Babcock, a handsome woman with a ruddy complexion and came from Lawrence, Massachusetts? She is Mrs. Fred. M. Gibson. Mollell Kuykendall of West Virginia has been disabled for all these years, and still wears a smile. She lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. I hear from here ever so often. Remember pretty Lois Toomer from Wilmington, North Carolina? And dear Jennie Nelson? Where is she? Betty Dalpe, now Mrs. Paul Duer lives in Albany, New York, Gertie Carter from Georgia now Mrs. Murray Beard lives in Miami, Florida and I saw her four years ago. Gladys Hicks who is now Mrs. James Thomas is in Baltimore with her bevy of children. These last three nurses were the prettiest girls on the Fort. Everybody knew that.

My next assignment was the Patient Officers Ward I. As a Charge Nurse in the Ward it was my good fortune to have assigned to me Mrs. Margaret Ladd, from New York; Mrs. Anna Flannery, now Mrs. Shoemaker here in Baltimore raising her two boys; Miss Anna Main and Miss Mary Moriority both from New York. I have seen these nurses frequently in all these years. Mrs. Ladd and I were close friends, and it was she who was the first Commander of the American Legion Post at the Fort in 1919 and known until after the first state convention of the Department of Maryland at Lehman's Hall in 1919 as the Fort McHenry Post 25.

A story comes from the receiving ward that there were some vacant beds in Ward 2 which Sgt. Huger and Sam Offit could fill up with their precious charges (the most recently returned overseas men.) The story managed to get by the censor in this: The phone rang in the Nurses Quarters and Katherine Burke answered. Rumor has it that the following conversations took place.

"No buts about it. We have 100 overseas men just in and we must fill every bed in the hospital. If you have a single empty over there we have to put a man in it."

Then Miss Burke explained that Quarters 2 was the Nurses Home and that Ward 2 had ceased to be a haven for overseas men for some time back.

Place: Nurses Quarters 3 Lights out and noise subside as thirty female dreadnaughts prepare for slumber.

Voices outside, gruff and masculine (Baltimore accent) "Open this door! How do you get this way?"

Somewhere around the first of July the patients were taken down on the Severn River to a camp which was made possible through the efforts of Colonel Purnell and which consisted of some hundred and fifty acres of woodland and bluffs: about ten miles this side of Annapolis. Captain Haas was in charge and I have a picture of the house, which I gave to Harry Philips, that the officers and enlisted men put up in one day. We gave it the name of Camp Purnell in honor of our Colonel and the convalescent patients sailed boats and launches (which had been loaned to them). The salt water bathing was good and the fishing for bass and perch was unsurpassed. It was commandeered by several doctors and the medical corps men in turn and was a haven for patients in the extreme warm weather we had that summer.

Many of you readers wonder how long our patients remained with us. I remember asking Colonel Johnson that question and his answer then (as in my diary): "The average for the entire country is 32.18 days, speaking of general hospitals, but old No. 2 keeps them only 27.9" I understood later that they had quickened the time some. Evergreen had 296.3 as an average but as this hospital treated and taughted the blind, it was a class by itself. Base hospitals average stay of overseas patients was 14.96 days. The figure was lower than of general hospitals for they (the base) did not receive cases the general hospitals did.

Then, came such a large convoy on the 23rd of October of wounded men and officers, right in from the A.E.F. landed at Newport News and loaded on trains and brought to us, on those same old tracks to our receiving wards. In the most quiet spots were our convalesing flu cases, but we put the new patients, arm cases upstairs and the leg cases downstairs.

Many of the patients still wore the field dressing tags. Such lines of crippled and wounded men I never want to see again. The men looked exhausted -- and the entire staff of nurses, doctors and corpsmen worked as quickly as heads and hands could, in order to facilitate time, that they might be quartered securely and fed -- and lie in a clean bed, "A land bed" they called it. They felt they were still sea going. "War is hell" said General Sherman in 1861 but here in 1918 was the remnants of another war. The World War at our feet. The thing was so big -- things moved so quickly. We could give no thought or consideration to self -- just kept on and on and on.

Some of the officers returned were Lt. Harvard Castle, Rochester, New York, Lt. Audrey Christopher, Montclaire, New Jersey, with a sprained back and who later was transferred to No. 2. Lt. George Allan Kent and his buddy Jack Sawhill, then only a little over 17 years old and had been in service more than two years n the Air Corp. Lt. Loose, Lt. Stephen McGiffert from Duluth, Minnesota who was shot in the side and peppered with schrapnel in the back. (After the doctor and I had become experts in dressing him) it took over an hour each day to dress him. Capt. Valentine Murray and Capt. Warren Sinkler both from New York City. Major Trotti from San Antonio, Texas; Colonel A.A. Miller from Detriot, Capt. T.K. Harrison now up at the Western Maryland College. Capt. Fewsmith, Orange, New Jersey and his devoted wife who was with him every day. Major Thomas Powell, Washington, D.C. and who was later transferred to No. 2. Lt. Richardson from Springfield, Mo. Major Murphy from Boston who insisted on having a private room -- (and had I one he could have had it without the asking) but there were large wards -- needless to say he went in the ward with all the rest of the officers and in his short stay with us learned to like it.

Captain Riley from Kansas who was nerved shocked and only by the persistence of Major Herring did he regain his normalcy. WHAT A CURE! He was 6 ft. 2, brought in to us on a litter. He had been helpless all the way back on shipboard -- unable to move a finger. The corps men waited on him and he was so kind and considerate of them too. He had complete medical, surgical and tests of the Laboratory, and then Major Herring sent me an order to have him brought over to his Ward 19 fully dressed. The ward man, Sgt. Pattey, took him over to the Major in a wheel chair and when the chair was placed in front of the major he asked Captain Riley "to try and stand up." After some reluctance Captain Riley tried to rise and with the aid of the Corps men he stood on his feet, for the first time in months. Major Herring kicked the chair away from him and with that smile of confidence, laughlingly said "Come now, Captain, we will walk back to Mrs. Williams." The Corps men, Miss Snow, Major Herring and the Captain came walking down the walk into the Ward and Major Herring said afterwards that my eyes were large as saucers. I was ordered to take him uptown that night to the officers dance at McCoy Hall (now burned down) "so he could see what he was missing." Needless to say we did not dance, but it was the contact he needed. He was fine after that. A wonderful mixture of American spirit and American science.

Then, there was Lieutenant James B. Boyle (known to everybody for his smile and good nature -- as "Jimmie") from Baltimore, who came to us badly wounded, and who tells the story of his comrade and friend, another Baltimorean -- Major Thomas McNicholas. It seems that Lt. Boyle was leading a detachment of reinforcements, one night during the Neuse-Argonne Offensive, and he was caught under a heavy enemy barrage, his friend McNicholas leaped from his place of safety and made his way to the area where Boyle had last been seen. The Company was hopelessly disorganized and Lt. Boyle was badly wounded. Major McNicholas carried him, crawling back to the trenches with him. We cared for him at the Fort until he was in fair shape to secure his discharge from service. He too, received a Distinquished Service Cross for bravery on the Verdun front. "During an offensive of his organization of the edge of Consonvoys Wood he led a flanking attack on the enemy, and by skillful handling of his platoon captured two machine guns and opened a way for an advance which resulted in clearing the wood of the enemy and greatly assisting in obtaining our (American) objective. Later he was severely wounded, while leading a wire-carrying party through a heavy artillery barrage, refusing first aid until a soldier wounded at the same time had been attended too."

Major McNicholas won a Distinquished Service Cross for his bravery and devotion to his comrade and his men. Both men are stronger friends today, both live in Baltimore, and both are good friends of mine.

Remember Major Sydney Strauss? When he spoke everybody knew he was the Chief of Medical Service, and no matter how busy he was he was all around the Fort watching his men. He was in on everything from epidemics to movies and no one was more liked than he was. Every one had something good to say for him. What a wonderful pictures to leave in one's memory. The most respected man on the Fort was the Paymaster. I remember him on later summer afternoons after the days work was over, out in his canoe -- alone -- in the river, just drifting. Where ever you are now, Captain W.W. Heaton, may I say Happy Greetings to you.

Who can forget our Indians? I remember two among the many, they were fullblooded and grand boys. I recall Big Thunder, who always went with Little Smith. Big Thunder enlisted from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and no one knew him by any other name. His service record was lost overseas like so many others during his many hospital experiences. He came to us with a detachment of overseas patients. His lower right jaw and entire lower mouth had been remolded with silver plates and teeth set in the plates. He was good natured and most willing to cooperate. Little Smith followed Big Thunder around like a shadow, and when the corps men joked with him too much he would shake his head and give a grunt, laugh and walk away.

We had many more buildings. The Red Cross House, The Library and the Fire House. The Librarian was Mrs. Birdsall, who is now in the same capacity at the Union Memorial Hospital in Baltimore. She has not changed save for her added experiences. Miss Agnes Brophy was with her, and she is over at the Veteran Hospital, Mt Alto in Washington, D.C. She looks the same today as she did 25 years ago. I wonder how they do it? Can it be Book absorption? It's fine whatever it is.

Realizing that fire protection was necessary, we had a splendid detachment of fire-fighters. They had been for a long time at Camp Meade but were finally ordered to duty at the Fort, to take the place of the firemen from Baltimore City Fire Department. Sargent Frank Morris was in charge. It was good work that they did.

I suppose most of you readers wonder how I learned so much of the actual running and remember the names. In the first place, I kept a diary (strange as it may seem) and each day would jot down the things that interested me, and the stories of the patients. I had a lot of curiosity and asked a lot of questions. Then in all these intervening years I have kept in touch with most of those mentioned in this article, and they in turn have kept in touch with the other, and we formed a sort of round robin. However, I have pictures, to prove all that I have written, and that's something. Then too, while I was Night Supervisor there was more of a chance to get around and learn a lot about matter all over the Fort that the nurses who were assigned just one ward could not contact.

It was a pleasant job, for there were so many ways that I found just little things that could be done for some one -- that ordinarily would not be noticed. Then too, I could be with some one during the last few moments, where the nurse in attendence could not as she would have some important treatment to give at a particular time.

Going back to the flu period, there were so many people all over the country who died that the Casket Companies were not able to furnish the Government for long periods (days) with the required number of caskets for our boys who had died. Many a time I went to the "Peace Chamber" with the Corps men to see where we could arrange space to place another body. I would like to say to the world that when those corps men had to take a body over there was the greatest reverence shown in the handling of the body. It was not just performing a duty, it seemed to be a sacred rite.

One one occasion, there was a Polish boy (Czakowski) and he was one of the substitute drivers of the ambulances -- so when placing a body on the shelf with the other helper Sam Offit, the helper, Sam, went out and closed the door, thinking that Czakowski had preceded him. The lad found himself locked with the dead for over two hours. He finally made himself heard by breaking the window pane and attracting the attention of the Guard as he neared the place on patrol duty. He said, "I was not afraid. I just kept praying all the time until I got out." (Pat Flynn and Sam Offit can verify this.)

The offices of the detachment patients and personnel and the Chart Room were in charge of men who had learned to read and write, while others carried rifles, dug ditches and so on. These boys went doggedly ahead with out reports, transfers, deaths, furloughs, A.W.O.L.'s and memorandum orders in triplicate. Let me tell you that Harry Phillips, Myer Roseman, in the Detachment Patients office and Phil Kolodner in the Chart Room were mighty fine young men. Sgt. Julius Offit was in the personnel office and was the ranking enlisted Sgt. On the Fort -- save of course dear old Sgt. Reiss, that everybody loved. I recall other Sgt. Eugene McFee, in the X-Ray; Sgt. William C. Crist; Sgt. Charles Besche; Corporal Archie Coulter, a splendid young chap. The two Levinson boys and Irving Goldberg who won his stripes for first class nursing, and his was not baby play either. He really passed high in his examinations.

Remember Captain Cross in the Opthalmic work? And little Lt. M.L. Foster? Lt. Lucian Buff was a quick clever operator in nose and throat work with Ruth Siirin as his assistant nurse. She was very pretty and married Captain Stewart Paul 12^th Infantry, U.S.A. The shadow of Lt. Buff was Lt. Doktorski from Chigaco. Captain Clark Petersen from Lakeville, Connecticut was well liked and in the Orthopedic Service. Lt. Galloway from down in Texas and attached to the Sanatory [sic] Corps was in the Detachment Patients Office where his life was made easy for him in having Myer Roseman and Harry Phillips do all his work -- notwithstanding everybody likes the tall thin man and he seemed to be everybody's friend. I recall so well the night that Lt. William Nield came back -- tired, hungry and glad to be home. He was not hurt, just waiting for his discharge. He is with the Dr. Howard Kelly group here.

As I turn the pages over I find a lot of names and memos, of those who were also there: Captain Byron Stocky, now up in New York as Chief Neurological Surgeon Columbia Presbyterian Medical Centre. Oh boy, did he make some people mad at different times when he could not have his way. And did he get ma? Then there was Dr. Bill May, quiet and unassuming. He is in Baltimore, but I never see him. Then I find some nurses names, Margaret Thomas, Oil City, Pa., Norma Knight, Latrobe, Pa., Leah Felber, Buffalo, New York; Maude Williams, Eldorado, Illinois; Irene Marks, Cherry Valley; Alice McCauley, New Haven Connecticut; Lisbeth Brown, Batavia, Illinois (Dietician); Nancy Schock, Coshen, Indiana. Then I find along the seawall wards, Alfred Phillips, 102^nd Infantry Co. F, New Haven; James Syfel, Co. E. 310 Infantry, Newark, New Jersey in ward 46; Herman Levine, Co. M 38^th Infantry, New Ark New Jersey in ward 45; Charles Mitchell Co. L 16^th Infantry, Holdredge, Nebraska in Ward 32. Remember when the patients who loved to fish sat on the sea wall for hours and caught large crabs?

Remember taking a sea wall walk? And who of us who were on the Fort did not notice the night lights of the ship construction off the south end of the Fort? It was indeed a beautiful sight.

Who of us will ever forget the kindnesses show to the nurses and patients by the 20^th Century Club? It was by these generous women that many comforts and pleasures were placed at our disposal. I recall Mrs. Harry Baker, Mrs. Clara Bird, Mrs. Alice Sonnehill, Mrs. John Mealy, Mrs. Hunter, Mrs. Boyd, Mrs. Golden Kennelly, Mrs. Calvin Troup, Mrs. Parkin Scott. I often see some of them, but the others have passed on.

There were many nurses who were patients in ward 28 but there was one nurse, where on her uniform sleeve -- beside the three gold service stripes on her left sleeve and the one wound stripe on her right sleeve -- she wore the ribbon of the Distinguished Service Cross (D.S.C.) She was Miss Isabelle Stambaugh from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and her citation was given her while she was at the Fort. It was presented for bravery under fire on March 26, 1918 and came direct from Field Marshall Haig. It was presented to her by the Secretary of War Newton Baker in Washington, D.C. The ceremony was a simple one in so much as there were only six colonels and a Brigadier General present. She was one of the first American nurses in Europe in May 1917 and was with a unit that was loaned to the British Army at that time. She was stationed at Letre Por, just behind the Somme Sector. It was here that she displayed the bravery that won for her the D.S.C.

The hospital was shelled and they were compelled to evacuate, retiring as far as Amiens and establishing headquarters there. Finally on March 26^th a shell dropped right in among them in the operating room and hit the surgeon, the anesthetist, and a number of thers. Miss Stanbaugh did not know she had been hit, and rushed to the aid of her prostrate companions, - her only fear for their condition. She was operated on in the midst of continuous bombardment and was sent back to England for recovery. After four months of convalescence, she was back on active service again with the British Army. She had English, Austrailian, and Canadian patients for the most part and spoke highly of their spirit.

To the many nurses who came among us, all strangers to one another in a strange city, yet bound by a common cause; their work was new, they had to adjust themselves to it and the new surroundings, there were few comforts yet there were fewer complaints. It seemed to me that it took so little to give them pleasure, and they were so appreciative when ever they were given an auto ride after a hard day's work -- or a dinner out in some family where they could meet people in their own homes. It helped deaden the homesickness almost all experienced.

When the flu was at its height and during my time off, I would contact the patient officers families in Baltimore, solving the difficulties as I could, so that my patients could return to normalcy in less time and without a worry complication. That work enlarged itself, and I went to Colonel Purnell and received permission for the time off, (if I could arrange my time off); I told him how I had worked out a plan by which the sick wives of the officer patients could be assisted. Almost all of them had some wife or relative who had come to Baltimore to be near their loved one and they were all strangers in a strange town. He glady agreed. He was so nice, he always wanted things that were for some one's good.

I went up to the Y.W.C.A. and asked the assistance of the secretary Miss Isabell Harmon to collect for me within two hours six schoolteachers who would act as temporary nurses under directions. Every one must understand that none of the nursing registrates could furnish a practical or trained woman. This course I was compelled to use. Each day I would visit the homes in which the sick relatives, mostly wives, were living and if the patient was well enough to be left alone, and care for herself; dispatch the teacher nurse to another wife patient. It was an arduous task but one did not have time to think of how hard work was then -- and our prime objective was to get the wife well enough that she could visit her husband patient and then we, the nurses could get our soldier men fit for duty. I might add that all the schools were closed by the epidemic of the flu, and the school teachers were free to work and were glad to be able to help. Most of the wives coming from all parts of the country and not accustomed to climatic conditions or living in furnished rooms, or even in those uproarious times. They were happier when they were free to visit their kinfolks.

STORIES OF SOME A.E.F. PATIENTS that are interesting and that were told to me as I went among the patients.

Private W.P. Gentry of New Haven, Conn. Who said he had a serious misadventure while driving an ammunition wagon, containing two and one-half tons of hand grenades. The brake beam of the wagon broke and the wagon took a drop of forty feet into a valley. He awoke to find himself in a hospital. It was rather a miraculous escape, for only one grenade exploded. If the whole lot had gone off, he says it would have destroyed the town nearby.

"At first when I got over on the other side we were kept near the coast for about twenty days, and then we were loaded into boxcars. There were eight mules and nine men in our boxcar, and, as the French boxcars are only half as large as those in the United States, a fellow had to watch his dome or one of the mules would use it for a foot stool. Well, we finally got to where we were going, and had to get off the train. We unloaded the mules and harnessed them, and started on a hike. My company was stationed some thirty miles behind the lines and that is where we were in training for two months. Then we started for the lines -- and reached them after three days hike. My company was stationed four miles back of the front line trenches but I had to go from the third line to the first line trenches with ammunition. Its a fine job going out in winter to hitch up those whistle mouthed Jerrys when the harness is stiff with ice, and your hands are nearly frozen. Then when you get up to the front lines hearing the big Fritzies bursting all around you. For the first three weeks of it your tongue is surely in your shoes. As to putting on gas masks on a mule? Well, I had two bad mules that I had to nearly threw before I could bridle them, so what was the use of trying to get a gas mask on? When the accident happened, the ice and the snow on the ground, I threw on the brake, out the brake bean broke, and my mules could not hold the load, so we took a ride; but the worst of it was that we couldn't stop when we got started. When we did stop, I was on the ground with the wagon and all on top of me." He said he was glad to do his bit over there, but he was mighty glad to get back on this side.

Private Mathew Casey, Co. B. 4^th Inf. Got his at Chateau Theirry. He says "All I though of was getting to the bloody Germans and I didn't think of anything else. I wanted to get all of them I could, and never did think of any of them getting me, but they did and with a machine gun, and here I am."

Over in my old ward Sgt. John Takash had a souvenir consisting of a small piece of paper which read:

Headquarters First Division
American Expeditonary Forces
France, June 22, 1916

General Order
No. 29

The Division Commander cites the following man for conspicuous gallantry in action during the operations connected with the capture and defense of Cantigny, May 27-31 1916

SGT JOHN T. KASH
CO. K. 26^th Inf.

"His outpost having been cut off from his platoon by a heavy barrage, took charge of all the men in the position and fought until all were wounded; he displayed skill and judgement in retiring and in making the counter attack."

By command of General Bullard
H.K. Loughry, Major, F.A.N.A.
Division Adjutant

Sgt. Takash was wounded in this battle. There were many patients with us that remembered this particular engagement and its importance. In Picardy onMay 26^th 1918 the American Troops were successful in their first attack, capturing the village of Cantigny. True, it was captured before, once by the British, and again by the French Colonial Troops, but they never were able to hold it successfully. The Sgt. was severely wounded at the second battle of the Marne July 18^th 1918 and it was in the last engagement that he lost his Distinguished Service Cross and also a part of his knee. He now lives in Chicago and had a son born while he was in France.

When the status of the U.S. Gen. Hospital No. 2 was changed ending its usefulness as a War Hospital it was transferred over to U.S. Public Health Service No. 56. The transfer was made on paper with all the patients that were within our gates. I have a picture of the last "RETREAT" as an Army Hospital and I gave it to the Fort McHenry Post 133 American Legion. Colonel Gage took over the transfer from Colonel Page.

All patients were transferred to the Walter Reed Hospital in Washington D.C. save those whose mental condition warranted them to Spring Grove, Md. I have pictures of the entraining of the men for I was doing troop train duty then and was on the platform with Lt. Danelsback from New York who had charge of the Troop Train Service, and who was with me at the time. There was only one of our patients who remained at the Fort, and I speak of him as one of the outstanding Marylanders who paid the supreme sacrifice.

Milton Barkley Mackall, Co. K. 115 Inf. wounded severely in the Meusse, Argonne, Centre Sector; was sent to A.E.F. Hospital 10-151-8 and came to use at the No. 2 on April 8^th-1919. His condition demanded his remaining at the Fort for he lived his hospital life in a bath-tub. He was taken out of the tuv and placed in a wheel chair and out in the sun on clear days. Levi Thomas Curtis was his favorite attendant. He answered his last roll call July 24^th 1922. Of sunny disposition, making friends readily, always grateful for little favors, he was devoted to Curtis and Curtis to him. There were besides his family and friends, one regular visitor, three or four times each week for years. A tall attractive girl, blond, with a cheery smile, who had been engaged to him before he went overseas. His funeral took place from the Chapel and the hospital personnel and all the patients who were ambulatory were lined both sides of the walks from the Chapel down to the gates; while all stretcher cases that were not strapped to the beds were along the roadway just above the slant. That attendence was the most precious symbol that proved the handclasp of understanding among service friends and especially patients in veterans hospitals. This girl I spoke of stood alone, between two attending brother officers. She married about five years ago and in reverence for a good friend they have name their first boy child Milton Barkley Mackall Smith.

The holder of another valuable piece of parchment was Pvt. Joseph de May over on ward 30. His citation reads:

General Headquarters
American Expeditionary Forces
Personal Bureau

By Courier
From the Adjutant General A.E.F
To Commanding Officer Base Hospital No. 8
Subject: Citations

Forwarded herewith is one D.S.C. No. 235 awarded the following named soldier for the act of extraordinary heroism in action set forth after his name:
Private Joseph de May Co. L. 23^rd Inf for extraordinary heroism in action near Vaux, France, July 1918. He gamely continued to fire his automatic rifle after falling wounded in both legs.
Address of nearest relative, Madeline de May Mother, San Felicci, Italy.
You are directed to present this cross to Pvt de May, in the name of the Commander-in-Chief. Attention is called to Par. 4 Bul. 25 GHQ AEF 9 May 1918. Every effort will be made to accompany the presentation of the Cross with as impressive a ceremony as possible.
Attached hereto is a certificate to be filled out and signed by you and forwarded to these headquarters after the actual presentation of the Cross has been made.
Receipt of the Cross will be acknowledged by letter immediately.

By Command of General Pershing
W.H. Dukes
Adjutant General

The Cross was presented to Private de May October 19^th at Base Hospital 69 Savonay, France by the Commanding Officer in the presence of all officers attached to the command."

Many of you should recall this hospital but for your guidance it was the old unit No. 5 where three tickets each day entitled you to good old Monkey Meat at all hours.

These D.S.C. men all conducted themselves in the hospital as they must have done on the field; observing rules and taking their places in many lines, quietly and in order. A great many of you knew them and it would have made our burdens lighter had all tried to observe their actions and acted like them.

Private Herman, an ambulance driver was under shell fire for the first time at Hill 204, Chateau Theirry. His ambulance was hit by a shell while bringing in the wounded. He says: "When we were moved up to Chateau Theirry we knew something big was going on there, while we were still miles away. It was my first experience under fire and when we got close and the shells started dropping near us I was interested in watching how close the shells hit to the old bus. Then we were too busy bringing in the wounded to think of anything else, until a big one hit the ambulance and I and the helper left there via the air route, and I woke up in a hospital back of the lines with a shattered arm."

Private R.C. Smeltzer, Co. G., 30^th Infantry also got his at Chateau Theirry while taking Hill 204. One of buddies was hit and badly wounded and he was helping him to a dressing station when he (Smeltzer) was hit. He says - "About all I thought of was getting it over with and getting back. I had a sort of feeling that I would get hit, but did not think much about it. I wanted to capture the hill as we were ordered to and get back and get a good long sleep. I got it all right, but in a hospital and not in a rest billet."

Private J.R. Raraback, Co. D, 111^th Infantry, was wounded at Fismes. His squad was engaged in cleaning out a woods where-in the Germans had a number of machine-gins stationed. He says - "I was scared, all right, but every time I saw one of my buddies hit it made me madder. I kept right on as fast as I could travel, until I had out distanced my comrades. I stopped to look for them when a sniper plugged me and I fell down. I tried to locate him but found it impossible. Then a first aid man got me and fixed me up and I was taken to a dressing station."

Soldiers were keen for souvenirs and it was to be feared that they are not always too particular where they get them. A sergeant, noticing one of his men showing a handsome big door knocker, went to him and said,

Private George A. Miller, 2^nd Machine Gun Battalion, was wounded in the left left at Soissons by a machine gun bullet. He says "I was standing back of a shattered wall, watching a French tank pouring a stream of bullets into the demolished walls of several houses where a number of Germans had a machine gun nest, when my attention was attracted to a German officer and about twenty prisoners coming towards me, holding up their hands and crying 'Kamerad'. The officer was yelling louder than the privates, and his face was distorted with fear. As he came up to me I yelled at him in English, 'Keep beating it back, Heinie'! When I said this the officer suddenly grabbed my hand and said in good English, "I lived in America for seven years. I worked for the Hamburg-American Steamship line in New York. I am sick of fighting against you Americans; you are better fighters than we are; you don't know the science of war, but you also don't know when to stop. Your men charge, when they know -- or at least if they knew war as we do, they should know -- it is certain death. What's the use of fighting against such men? When we shoot them they keep right on coming."

Then they started toward the rear, and I started ahead, when I felt something not hit me in the leg -- at least it felt hot. I stopped to look down, when a piece of shell hit me on the top of my hat. It knocked me down but did not penetrate my scalp, as I afterwards learned. Then I lost conscienceness and woke up hours later in the hospital. I am back and glad to get back."

Private C.A. Williamson, Co. E. 9^th Infantry, wounded at Chateau Theirry, was engaged in taking Hill 204 when he was hit by shrapnel and machine-gun fire. He says: "When I got into the fight I was dead sure I was going to be killed and was anxious to get it over. I had this feeling for several days before entering the fight, and the night before we were due to 'go over' I laid on the ground with my knapsack as a pillow and thought over lots of things, but mostly how my mother would feel when she found out I was killed. Therefore, I was just a little disappointed -- if you can call it that when I woke up in a hospital and found myself alive."

The following is from an interview with William M. Whittington, Co. I 167 Infantry, a returned patient and it explains many things. He said, "One of the things a soldier going overseas should learn is alertness, otherwise he may be victim of an ingenious trap which the enemy sets for the unsuspecting Americans who have not learned the Forman method of warfare. Our boys must expect to encounter every sort of device that a German, not to say Satinic [sic] mind, can conceive for the purpose of catching the Samies unawares in the trenches." The following incident was an interesting example of the foe's ingenuity.

"Before getting ready to go over the top, the Huns concentrated a large number of house-cats at the front, just plain old pussies with good healthy lungs for yelling. Those cats were taken out by midnight patrol detailed to cut away our barbed wire entanglements which protect the first line trenches, in order to prepare the way for a raid. When the entanglements had been found, some form of torture was inflicted on the poor beasts so that their yelling distracted the attention of the American guards. One can imagine what an unearthly noise fifty cats yelling together would produce. While this feline concert was in progress, the Huns were busy cutting away our barbed wire defenses preparatory to making one of their frequent night raids. Quite naturally our Post Guards were deceived for they thought prowling cats caught in the entanglements caused the discordant notes which broke the stillness of the dark. All forgot about the incident, not knowing that one of the most important defenses had been removed. Somehow there was a general feeling among the men that should the Boche attempt a raid, the barbed wire was sufficient to arrest their advance until proper preparations for their reception had been made. We soon realized our unwariness, for suddenly four or five companies of the enemy came through, making it necessary for us to fall back rather than suffer heavy losses. The first eight days at the Front, our company never saw a Boche. On our way to the back of the lines, we wondered midst laughter and talk where the foe was keeping himself. It seemed a mystery. Eight days in the front line trench and not a dam thing to shoot at. It put an edge on our bravery, but made us feel a little disappointed, for we were just aching to let loose with out guns.

But our appetite for adventure was destined to be soon satisfied. The very next night about 10 P.M. a lieutenant came through asking for volunteers to go over and investigate the German Front lines. More than the required number offered to go. They reported enough targets on the other side of No Man's Land for our entire force to shoot at, so a[t] 2 A.M. over the top we went. THEN was the time when every one had an opportunity of showing his calibre but all the boys proved their nerve in their first experience under fire. Backed by the artillery we forced our way into the enemy's lines and there engaged them in a hand to hand fight. It was a well known fact that the Germans were afraid of steel bayonets, which the Yankees handled with skill, so we succeeded in capturing quite a number of the enemy with but a few losses to our ranks."

In a certain base hopital in France an American Nurse was busily caring for a French lad, who was more infavor of being left to sleep than of receiving the vigorous bath he was undergoing. She was very thorough and while she spoke no French was demonstrating that a bath was a bath regardless of nationality, and that, at least she could understand. But listen, there was more, and over and over came the words, "pas beaucoup, pas beaucoup!" Surely she knew what he wanted, and still scrubbing the victim, she soothingly said - "Just a minute, I'll be through and then I'll get your toothpaste". (Pebeco)

This was Anne Pryde who was the Director of Welfare in the District of Columbia for the American Legion.

So much as been said of the nurses who went over, and I feel that the following poem written by a nurse who was at the Fort is self-explanatory. It was written by Barbara Sproat.

Good-Bye Girls

"From the Battle of the Brazos,
To Fifth Avenue New York,-
From the mud of Camp McArthur,-
And that wasn't any lark;

They had fought the Spanish Flu-zie
And a Texas Summer heat,
And if any one can beat that,
Hats off to them - when we meet!

They had trod the muddy foot-paths,
While the mud stick fondly fast,
And they tried to shake it off' em,
Praying "Let this be the last"!

They had frozen in the blankets,
Till their nose and toes were numb,
For the Breezes of the Brazos,
Has the North Pole going some!

They had watched the others leave 'em,
While the band played "Over There",
But the hero of the Brazos
Never landed anywhere.

Now they go with silver chevrons,-
Silver means "we missed the boat",
To take care of the lucky gold ones,
"Now! - If that don't get my goat!"

But don't worry! Wear them proudly
As you tread Fifth Avenue,
For the battle of the Brazos
Ranks with that of Waterloo!"

On November 9th, 1918, there was all kinds of bell ringing and cheering and we were told that the Armistice was signed. But when the Colonel traced the origin he found it was not authentic. However, when the actual news reached us on the 11th, there was rejoicing and it is now not twenty years that have come and gone since on the eleventh hour of the eleventh month that order to cease firing rang out all over the world. Who of you that were on Fort McHenry can ever forget in your lifetime, the queer thrill that Serpent Dance which winded itself all over the Fort and gathered up everybody in its wake, singing in muffled tones "War's over -- War's over"?

I wonder if you readers realize that when America entered the War the first call for help from its Allies was not for combat troops, but for food; ammunition; physicians and nurses. I have so often quoted in my various articles that, in Frederick Palmer's Book "When Mr. Baker Made War" he states "That in May of 1917 with the same promptness that made the French and German conscripts respond to their call to take their place in mobilization, the units of altogether 800 nurses were on their way to France before Pershing and his staff started; while others were summoned to serve the expanding army in training at home." I would like to say here, that the first of the expeditionary forces that went to England were a group of Medical Officers and Nurses; and the Army history reads that "the last to return from France were Medical Officers."

It is hard to realize, but a fact nevertheless, that in these twenty-five years there has grown into young manhood and young womanhood a new generation to which Armistice Day is hardly more than a legendary holiday; a day of parades; and formal exercises; and celebrations. We must not forget that we owe to this new generation a distinctive duty. If we are to profit by the dearly earned experiences of the War, we must see that our youth comes to learn two things: The Cost of Armistice Day and the Glory of it. They should learn the cost, that they may not lightly engage their Country in War that may be honorably avoided. They should learn the Glory of it that they may never be overcome by a scarcity of pacificism that they cannot distinguish right from wrong.

Then, there was Christmas in the Army. Every ward had its own tree and the corridors were aglow with evergreens. The Nurses and Officers vied with each other to see that their wards were the prettiest. Colonel Purnell ordered every things that was necessary to suit the most fastidious. No one was forgotten. There was a general exchange of gifts. The Baltimore people invited any one who could accept for dinner, and sent all kinds of splendid fruits and gifts for the patients. In the Officers Ward on my old desk there was placed a beautiful silver loving cup filled with dark red roses and engraved for me from my officer patients. My friend Margaret Ladd was there with me as were Anna Flannery and Mary Moriority. It was Lt. Arnold Schneider who made the presentation and I am not ashamed to say that when ever I have been given (as on several occasions) dark red roses, my eyes fill heavily. Lt. Schneider was from Penn. and answered his last roll call ten years ago. The Jane A. Delano Post of New York and the Maryland Nurses Post both of the American Legion buried Margaret Ladd in April of 1938, in Arlington Cemetery with military honors she so rightly deserved. I extend my grateful and appreciative respects to my most deserving and overworked ward man, for with out his kindly tact and good heartedness, many things would never have passed along so smoothly. Reginald Pattey --- Greetngs and thanks.

Summing it all up -- I believe the thing that impressed me more than anything else on Fort McHenry during my entire time there was that impressive feeling that came over me each day at sundown -- when "Retreat" was sounded. There, high up on the ramparts of the Star Fort the buglar silhoutted against the sky sounding "Taps", and the lowering of the Colors - the American Flag, the Star Spangled Banner -- pinnacle of patriotism that was imbued in the writing of our national anthem, out in the bay by Francis Scott Key -- evinced itself with an eminent picture, when every able-bodied person stood at attention. The very stillness created reverence and awe -- for over 2200 patients, daily -- there were hundreds that cared for them, over the 58 acres of the Fort.

THE FORT NOW:
Staid, austere, established by the National Park, under the Department of the Interior; where the original fighting equipment and military quarters are preserved, that future generations of Americans may themselves visit and there visualize the responsibility to "Carry-On."

Gone are the hospital wards, the endless rows of white sheeted beds, the operating rooms and laboratories. Destroyed are the simple frame structures which housed so many thousands -- which were rapidly erected and too rapidly destroyed - even the historic Chapel. Gone -- with only memory left.

1st	The enclosed report was read before the weekly staff meeting at U.S.G.H. No. 2 by the members of the Laboratory service on February 5, 1919.
2nd	It encompasses a summary of the Laboratory work done at the Hospital under the very trying and emergency conditions of our epidemic, from September 1st, 1918 to January 1st, 1919, by the commissioned and enlisted personnel and female technicians, whose work during this time was highly commendable
3rd	Permission is requested for publication in one of the recognized medical journals.