He died when I was six months old. In a way, his death was an irony.
He served during World War One as a member of Ambulance Company 239, 10th Sanitary Train,
at Camp Funston (part of Ft.
Riley) Kansas. He nursed soldiers during the influenza epidemic of
1918-1919, the worst pandemic in history, and never fell to the disease. Twenty
years later, he died of peritonitis from a ruptured appendix.
My mother
passed away in 1992. In disposing of her personal effects, my sisters and I came
across a bundle of letters my dad had written to my mom while he was in military
training. They weren't married then. They were only serious sweethearts. They
married in 1919 when he returned from military service, and they subsequently
had six children.
But, because my dad described his experiences in
detail, and because my mother never threw his letters away, we now have a
grassroots window on national and regional history we otherwise would not have
had. It is an account that is too good to keep to myself.
Because of his
untimely death, I never got to know him in the real sense. I have always heard
my mom and my brother and sisters talk about what a great guy he was, and of
course I accepted that. But, after reading his letters, I feel I have come to
know him personally.
The Birth of Camp Funston
According to the publication, Cantonment Life at Camp Funston, the
decision to build Camp Funston was made by the War Department in June 1917.
Funston was the largest of sixteen divisional cantonment training camps constructed
during World War One. This fact was more than likely due to its central location
(Ft. Riley was initially known as “Ft. Center” because of its closeness to the
geographical center of the continent). With a capacity of over 50,000, it was
to draw trainees from all the Great Plains states. A committee composed of
planning engineers, landscape architects, and representatives of the U.S. Army
Quartermaster Corps met at Fort Riley and selected a large meadow on the Fort
Riley government reservation, near the Kansas River (also known as the Kaw River).
Construction began July 1, 1917 and the camp was completed December 1 of that
year at an approximate cost of $10,000,000. It covered approximately 2 miles
of what was referred to as Pawnee Flats. The camp was named in honor of Major General Frederick Funston, a colorful figure who had distinguished himself in the Phillipines, Cuba, and in the aftermath of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.
The Zone
Because of the number of trainees anticipated and the desire for convenient
location of commercial facilities to meet their commerce and entertainment needs,
the Army decided to turn to private business. An enterprising businessman named
H. P. Powers purchased Kellyville, a small town on the northern edge of the
developing Camp Funston. He then auctioned off lots for the development of
stores, theaters and shops. He changed the name of the town to “Army City”.
Although Army City was being developed with private capital, it nonetheless
proceeded under the watchful eye and at the pleasure of the U. S. Army. The
Army called it the “Zone of Department of Camp Activities and Amusements.”
Understandably, the recruits shortened that to “The Zone.” It
included three theaters with an average seating capacity of 1900 each, a pool
hall with 70 tables, a 40-chair barbershop, a bank, a drug store, clothing stores,
bowling alleys, and restaurants. Its storefront business grouping was a forerunner of today's malls. The Zone had a frontage of 2,000 feet…a little
over six football fields long. It was a favorite destination for the soldiers and their guests. The finished construction was said to have cost
$1,500,000. Each of the concessionaires paid a percentage of their gross income
back to the Camp Exchange.
The Zone was to be short lived, however. The war was over in 1918. With peace,
the Army shrunk. Without the built-in commercial support of 50,000 soldiers,
the Zone did likewise. In 1922, it officially ceased to exist.
Camp Funston still exists, though not as the large installation it once was.
Its main purpose now is temporary housing for military personnel undergoing special training for duty in Iraq.
The Zone Revisited
There is a notable project underway in the department of Anthropology at the
University of Arkansas. The
Archaeological Remote Sensing Library of Geophysical Imagery is a web site
that details the use of non-invasive remote sensing methods combined with new
analytical tools to allow recovery of detailed information about subsurface
archaeological content. The project is supported by a Department of Defense
grant and is centering on using such technologies as ground-penetrating radar
to find the outlines of the footings of the buildings and other artifacts that
once composed the Zone, as well as examining other sites across the country.
Although highly technical, the site is an interesting twist on the old saying
about “gone but not forgotten.” A less high-tech explanation of the project
was done in 2003 on Economist.com.
Highways
Although a large part of his work dealt with nursing soldiers at the camp
hospital during the influenza epidemic, my dad and others from his company were
frequently assigned temporary duty with the Motor Convoy Service of the
Quartermaster Corps. Because the war effort was requiring great shipments of materiels and personnel, train lines were almost overwhelmed with the task. Therefore, the U.S. Army did the next best thing. They supplemented the transportation effort by sending my dad and thousands more by train to automotive centers in the
East to pick up new ambulances and convoy trucks. They would then drive them to
Camp
Holabird in Baltimore, Maryland
for shipment overseas. There was no highway system to speak of at that time, and
many of his letters tell of the difficulties encountered on the road. (See historical
footnote). Of course, with the roads no better than they were, the trucks
were built to take a beating, which, according to some reports, was passed on to
the driver. Pete Davies, author of American
Road, quotes Drake Hokansen, another historian, as saying
"...the combination of solid tires and poor roads would have
produced a constant, bone-jolting rattle and shudder. It would have been so
bad that if the driver attempted any speed higher than ten miles an hour, it
would have taken the sum of his effort just to hang on to the wheel and not be
flung from his seat."
A statistic from a PBS documentary narrated by historian David McCullough puts things in
perspective: in 1900, a scant 18 years before, there were less than ten miles of
concrete roads in the whole country.
In 1919, a confluence of several
parallel developments began to change that picture. World War One was over.
Industrial output was retooling from war to peacetime production. Automobiles became more affordable and plentiful.
Mechanization that led to the World War One tank gave birth to a new generation
of earth moving and construction machines. Perhaps one of the most important
events, however, was the occurrence of the first of two transcontinental convoys
by the U.S. Army. It started in Washington, D.C. and ended in San Francisco. The
official purpose was to test recently developed trucks (some of which
had been received too late to actually use in the war), and to see if the
juggernaut that had brought the Axis powers to defeat could actually traverse
its own country. The unofficial purpose was to draw the attention of the public
and policy makers to the crying need for hard surface, all-weather roads with a
consistent, accurate, readable signage. Additionally, the planners felt it would
provide a tool to garner support for the Townsend Bill, which would provide
federal funds for highway construction. After all, it didn't make much sense to
own an automobile if you couldn't drive it anywhere. The transcontinental convoy
was an event that was no doubt watched with keen interest by such people as
Henry Ford (Ford Motor Co.), Harvey Firestone (Firestone Tire & Rubber Co.),
and John D. Rockefeller, Jr. (Standard Oil), all of whom stood to gain
commercially by the development of the United States highway system. (One of the
first stops for the convoy was at the Firestone estate in Ohio).
One of
the observers along on that trip was a young lieutenant colonel named Dwight D.
Eisenhower. The 1919
Transcontinental Convoy recounts how the experience left an indelible mark
on Eisenhower, who, 33 years later, became the moving force behind today's
Interstate Highway System.
Communications
In 1918, there were approximately 10
million Bell System telephones in service in the United States. Those were
mainly in the urban areas with higher population. Army men didn't always have
the luxury of being able to walk up to a pay phone and call home. This need for
the Army man to communicate with family gave rise to another of the major war
support efforts. Regardless of where Army men found themselves located, the
Y.M.C.A. would have a local facility, stocked with writing stationery and pens,
where the men could sit and write letters home. Probably 95 percent of Dad's
letters were written on Y.M.C.A. stationery. According to the publication Cantonment Life at Camp Funston, one million sheets of stationery per month were required to meet the demand. Becky Staley, whose grandfather also served
in World War One, has written an excellent thumbnail sketch of the role of the
Y.M.C.A. in the
war effort. In addition, Becky's grandfather, as well as my father, had only
good things to say about another organization that was key to the war effort.
Read Becky's essay on the Red Cross.
The Influenza Pandemic
History documents the 1918 influenza
epidemic starting in Spring 1918. However, Dad's letters make no mention of
it until the end of September. Molly Billings, in her excellent site on the 1918 Influenza Pandemic
explains why:
"...A first wave of influenza appeared early in the spring of 1918
in Kansas and in military camps throughout the US. Few noticed the epidemic in
the midst of the war. Wilson had just given his 14 point address. There was
virtually no response or acknowledgement to the epidemics in March and April
in the military camps. It was unfortunate that no steps were taken to prepare
for the usual recrudescence of the virulent influenza strain in the winter.
The lack of action was later criticized when the epidemic could not be ignored
in the winter of 1918."
The
Manhattan Mercury, a daily newspaper in Manhattan, Kansas, published an
interesting account of how the pandemic affected Ft. Riley and the surrounding
areas. Read Pandemic.
Lauran Neergaard of the Associated Press has chronicled further research
by the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology into the character of the 1918 flu
virus.
The Enlistment
Dad joined the Army May 29, 1918 at Pawnee,
Oklahoma and was discharged January 23, 1919. As much as he wanted to, he never
saw combat duty. The 10th Division was just ready to be shipped when the
Armistice was signed. That he did not see combat duty was perhaps
fortunate in a couple of ways: 1.) If he had, I might not be here, and 2.) There
is much documentation available on World War One combat from other sources.
Dad's letters round out that documentation by showing what was going on
stateside in support of the war effort.
I have organized the letters
chronologically, and have edited for spelling and grammar and eliminated small
talk about friends and family members except where to do so would eliminate what
I consider important reflections on the military and Dad's relationship to it. I
also have included some photos that Dad or his friends took from time to time.
Please note that the appearance of this material online in no way
lessens the author's rights to it. It can be distributed unaltered in part or
whole, for non-profit purposes only, as long as proper credit is given to the
author. In any event, this material should not be published in printed form
without the express consent of the author. Contact:
So what have I learned about my Dad's personality
from all this?
Several things:
He was not afraid to express his love and his need for my Mother.
He was respectful of and loyal to my Mother.
He placed high value on family and family relationships.
He was fun-loving and enjoyed life.
He was kind and compassionate, even if it meant sacrifice.
He wasn't afraid of hard work and he finished what he started.
He tried to keep a positive outlook even when he was in a bad
situation.
All in all, it is an impressive roster of qualities for a
father to have. Even though I didn't get to spend time with him, I feel blessed
beyond measure just to be his son. I am intensely proud of him for being the
type of person he was and for the myriad of good memories he left with my
family. I am fully confident I will be with him again, one of these days. And
what a day that will be!
Until that time, my goal is to reflect to
others the same qualities I have seen in his writings.
No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of
the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea,
Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a
Mannor of thy friend's or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes
me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for
whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
-------JOHN DONNE,
Meditation XVII
If you enjoyed this site, you might want to jump back a generation and see
how my Dad got to Oklahoma, Traveling West in
1899.
