Friday, March 1
We are in brigade station number 165 and I am in Company 42, of the 11th Battalion, the 180th Brigade, and the 90th Division. Two corporals, a sergeant, a second lieutenant, a first lieutenant, and a captain are responsible for our military review. I know Sergeant Rankin. He is a good person—gracious, friendly, and a long-standing member of the military, although he is still very young. The second lieutenant is of medium height. I still do not know his name, but he is very young and shows how well educated he is by the respectful way he treats us. The captain is named Johnson. You could not find a better person.
I can now appreciate the chance occurrence I had in the kitchen, or mess hall, this morning. Someone called us to “attention” while we ate breakfast, and the officer of the day asked if anyone knew how to type. No one responded, either because they did not know how or just did not wish to reply. When he asked for the third time, two raised their hands and then I followed.
They asked us to fill out insurance forms for the recruits. We were also to calculate the pay amounts the government would assign each family and the total that we were to set aside for them. We had to do this for all the soldiers in our company. This helped me understand how to prepare my own documents and to make sure that I receive all the benefits guaranteed to soldiers who faithfully meet their duty. The thousands of questions we asked the soldiers and the different cases I reviewed were enough for me to understand everything well and to fill out my forms properly. I realize that many poor fellows were not prepared to report what most benefited them.
Saturday, March 2
Two more Mexican buddies are with me now. I took care of their papers, the same as mine. They do not know the language well enough to fend for themselves, although they will be as good as the rest of the soldiers in other matters. One of them, Simón González, comes from Seguín, but he is from Martindale. He is young and from a very humble family. Simón is so uninformed that he understands little about what he is to do now. He is far, very far from knowing that as poor as he is, he is destined to fight until the end so that our people can hold our name high. Simón has a brother who is also in the military, and he leaves his elderly father, seventy years old and blind, all alone in Martindale.
José Leal is another of my buddies who shares our barracks. He is the type of Mexican who knows how to endure everything. José gives himself completely to the challenges of life. He is the personification of our people’s well-known stoicism! José also lacks an education, but he is intelligent and his resolute disposition makes him appear indifferent to whatever destiny has in store for him. He leaves behind parents and siblings and a faithful girlfriend to whom he writes often and dedicates his time in the war. His family is from Seguín. Simón and José knew each other.
After I made sure they understood we are playing the last card in the game of life, I convinced José and Simón to leave their families all they will earn. I only keep three dollars from my monthly pay, an amount that is more than enough to keep me from being a burden on anyone. This will allow us to focus on what we have to do and to do it well. Our sacrifice is like the one made by Hernán Cortéz when he burned his ships at Veracruz.1
We continue under strict quarantine but went out for the first time this afternoon. We marched to the hospital for another physical examination. We were vaccinated and immunized. The shot was for typhoid. Several soldiers fainted as they were inoculated or when they saw that they were about to be vaccinated. Nerves fail men who think they are strong. We will remember the amusing scenes and difficulties during the horrible examination. We suffered that night from the pain of the inoculations.
Sunday, March 3
Our routine did not change although we were sore in the morning. We executed the same drills as before.
While we ate, an officer announced that we would fall into formation at two in the afternoon by the large hall area. We did as ordered and came together in the most complete silence and order. An officer spoke to us about the legal obligations we had assumed and how we should behave. He also spoke at length about his long military career. We now know that he was recently promoted to second lieutenant.
He is up in age, but he really seems to be sociable and every bit a gentleman. The officer finished by assuming a sense of military bearing and reading some articles from the military code of conduct.
Monday, March 4
Our arms still hurt. Today has been a boring and sad day. I felt nausea from the cigarette smoke and the loud noise. This is truly a military barrack. I spent a good amount of time talking to a buddy who had also been a public school teacher. We understood each other well and commiserated about our new life. We are determined to bear everything by making the best of things.
The “sad soldier” did not eat today, he seems very sick. I brought him coffee from the kitchen and later gave him some lemons. The good man offered to pay me but I declined. I only wanted to do my duty and be a friend. He was grateful and pleased. We are truly in a bad way when we cannot manage to scratch each other’s backs.
We felt indescribable joy upon receiving our first letters from home.
LETTER FROM MY FATHER
Alice, Texas, March 1, 1918
My dear son:
I am glad that you are doing well. We are fine, thanks to God.
Son, you tell me that you are already in the military. The news does not surprise us. We knew that this day would come. You had already told us. I will ask God that he help you and that your service bring benefit to the government, that you act well, remain dedicated, and that you do not waver. Everything goes well with the man who does not do wrong. We pray to God that if you are to face danger that you survive in good spirits and that you return like a Pablo Martínez or a Zaragoza for the honor of our people.2
I have spoken to José and Ramón about whether they want to join you and they tell me they would be very glad to do it. They wish that I agreed, especially José who says he is proud to have a brother in the great American military. So, you are not alone in this world. You can count on the little “pomocas” and a Malinche who is “la Mocha.”3
Son, do not fail to write as often as you can. I close,
Your father who loves you.
ROSALÍO SÁENZ
I have not heard from you and I am worried because I did not leave all of you in good health. How is the ill person in the family coming along?
It may be a week before I can leave the camp. Make your plans. It would be good if you came to San Antonio. I regret that I cannot send you anything. The government’s help, along with mine, will probably not arrive until April.
You have no reason to worry because I am in a safe place. Notice that I even typed my letter. I am our captain’s “right hand man.” As expected, not everyone is glad about this. No doubt, someone will want to take away my privileges. I would like to see them try!
You will receive more than fifty dollars. I am insured for ten thousand dollars. You may say that I am worth more than ten thousand dollars, but I doubt it. They will take care of me like a barbecued head, not because of my worth but because of the potential loss that I represent.4
Love to everyone and for my Adán.
LUZ
Samuel and Adán:
I am going to tell you a story. In a small faraway town, an old man had two very good young boys. The old man, a good person too, was kind to the little ones and would tell them stories in the afternoon, after the work was done and before the sun would set, or when the moon was beginning to appear. He would tell them stories about boys who lived in other towns. He would talk to them about their favorite animals they played with. The children would listen very quietly to the old man. One day another old man arrived, the old man’s grandfather. They call him Uncle Sam. He came to take the old man away to help him drive out or kill other old men who had been killing the sheep and destroying the crops that belonged to Uncle Sam. The first old man did not have a rifle, but Uncle Sam told him he had many, as well as money and beautiful clothing for the brave soldiers. The old man, brave as he was, told him that he would help him. One day, he left on a train that passed by the children’s home. The children did not cry, and they stayed alone. How does that sound to you? When the old man arrived at one of Uncle Sam’s many homes, he was well received. After feeding him, they dressed him in a military uniform, like the ones you see worn proudly on the city streets. If you look closely when you are walking these streets you can see the old man. If you do, tell him to tell you a story, he knows many. Oh! I forgot to tell you, when the old man arrived at Uncle Sam’s house, he asked, “Do you want to send the little boys something to eat?” The old man answered, “No. I left them a few beans so that they may be well. Later, if they finish them and if you wish, you can send them more.” Colorín . . .5
Good-bye!
My dear children were accustomed to hearing me tell a story, an anecdote, or a joke with a lesson every afternoon. I cannot do this anymore since I am leading another life elsewhere, but now and then, I will try to think of something and take the time to send them a story.
Tuesday, March 5
We welcomed an extraordinary event today. Formation was called at four. We were told of the exalted meaning of the uniform we were to wear and of the honor our country was bestowing upon us at a time when it was facing the threat of a terrible and powerful enemy. The grand and sublime image of the Motherland and the future of my people came to mind at that special and inspiring moment. They then gave us our new olive green uniforms. Our entire civilian appearance disappeared magically! The figure we strike is a sight to see. While the uniforms fit some well, they are loose on most of us. We find comfort in knowing that the uniform does not make the man, and we will be loyal when it comes time to defend the stars and stripes.
The novelty of wearing the uniform instantly rid us of the monotony somewhat. So many dreams passed through our warrior minds on that memorable afternoon!
I continue to work as a typist for the captain. I wrote some letters.
Wednesday, March 6
I have been oblivious to what may have happened today inside and outside our barracks. I have had a migraine headache or neuralgia and visited the military hospital where I was given a laxative powder. I had not left this place alone since we first arrived. The sergeant who is in charge of taking the daily sick list to the Medical Department accompanied me in the evening. The many sentinels who serve as guards stopped us often. Our sergeant had a passport that allowed him to pass without any problems. The trip seemed a strangely different experience, especially when we stopped in front of the hospital and discovered that so many other soldiers were waiting for the same reason. We were all in line, entering and exiting one by one.
Silhouettes of soldiers appeared everywhere. They were walking about with permission or carrying out a charge. We were the only ones who had to follow the sergeant like slaves or prisoners.
Thursday, March 7
I am very grateful to the captain and other officers for being kind enough to recommend me to my other superiors. I am mostly focused on doing everything that is expected of me. It will not be my fault if they do not know how to make good use of me, within the limits of my ability.
We finished filling out the insurance forms and extending other services to the soldiers in our company.
Friday, March 8
Today, Mr. Maximiliano González of Martindale came looking for his two sons, Filomeno and Simón. He is an elderly man who claims to be seventy years of age. He is almost sightless. He is actually blind. This is where we can see that the “fair law of the draft by public lottery” has failed and does not work as it was intended. The officers who enforce it commit serious errors and injustices, and they will probably go unpunished. They have deprived the old man of his two sons, his sole means of support, and the only loving family members he has in this world. The local board justified its clearly unfair action by noting that when his sons enter military service, the government would provide the father more money than he needs. They also point to the sons’ difficult life as laborers. What a wretched finding! Although others may think he is ignorant and dim-witted, Mr. González is not so simpleminded that he cannot see how unfair they are with him. He says he is not asking for the money, although he needs it badly, but that he wishes for the care and protection that only his sons can provide him. He points out, for example, that receiving money without proper care would do more harm than good. He insists that his youngest son be freed. His son has cared for him the longest. His request, in our view and the thinking of many officers who have learned of the case, is more than fair. We believe that if he is refused it will be because he comes from a town where members of our community are treated unjustly. We also believe that our federal government will not know of these cases. They will be forgotten. How shameful!
The old man continues to insist that the money will never provide him the care and especially the love of a son (what better arguments!). Simón has been an obedient and dependable son. He has been mostly concerned with the care of his father since he began working as a farm laborer.
As I noted earlier, the captain is a fair man. He has given Mr. González some hope. After listening to him, he told us to take Simón to the mess hall to eat with us. Simón did this, and later the captain had him fill out some forms to request an exemption for Simón (I was the translator and I believe that I completed the task with the greatest care). Mr. González told us that he had no support after his sons left for the military, that he had lived almost entirely on charity, that he did not know anyone in San Antonio, and that he had given his last fifty cents to the young boy who had brought him to the camp. The captain had to send him to the Red Cross station since we could not take him to the city or to some other safe place. The Red Cross took care of him, at least for the moment. We gave him the little money we had.
I am glad to have translated and recounted this poor old man’s case. His fight is the cause of the people and I have made it my own.
Saturday, March 9
They took us to the hospital to get inoculated again. I saw many friendly faces, including some Mexican friends from my town. They were among the many soldiers that were arriving. I did not have time to talk to them. We simply exchanged a few words so that we could locate each other later.
We witnessed the camp’s great commotion and confusion while we waited a long while for our turn to enter the hospital. So many people had come, some in cars, others on foot. They all wanted to see their loved ones who were being recruited into the great American armada. Some of them were lucky to find them, while others, tired and covered with sweat, walked aimlessly through that confusing labyrinth the camp area has become. Many of the recruits who have located their family members and who are quarantined can only talk with them from a distance and always under the watchful eye of a posted sentinel. The others who are not quarantined or who have completed it, stroll happily through the streets with parents, brothers, sisters, girlfriends, and wives, etc., who are no doubt contemplating what we are going through. We long for the day when we can also be free to share in that pleasure.
The movement of people around the camp is intense, like in no other camp in the United States, or so they say. Groups of soldiers are everywhere, either carrying out a special order or some other assignment.
The pain from the inoculation is greater than before.
Our Sundays are not much different from the other days of the week. It must be because we are quarantined. We did not have much to do today because of yesterday’s inoculations and we have been yawning and in pain all day. My buddies enjoy themselves, or give themselves to deep thought, but without taking note of their surroundings. I have taken most of the day writing to my loved ones and to some friends who have written and asked for a quick reply.
The latest is that the haunting screams of one of our men awoke us last night. We first thought he might be having a nightmare. We then realized the problem was serious, and it became necessary to call the sergeant, who quickly went for a doctor. The doctor ordered that the soldier be taken to the hospital immediately.
Monday, March 11
Today, we learned that the sick recruit died last night of an epileptic seizure.
An officer reprimanded us early this morning because some of the men wake up too early and keep the others from sleeping. He set the hour for going to bed as well as for getting up in the morning. With God as my witness, we make thousands of mistakes because we are so new to this life. Patience, men in command, we will learn that there are deadlines for everything and that they benefit everyone. Little by little, we feel the iron hand of the military.
I feel sorry for my farmworker friends who are used to getting up at daybreak! Many of them were so accustomed to this that they would get up when the others were just going to bed. Everyone, including the recruits from the city who were used to waking up whenever they pleased, now have to abide by a sergeant’s rude whistle that will shake up the slow and the sluggish. The farm boys will now have to remain long hours in their cots without anything to do but to summon sweet thoughts from home. The recruits from the city wake up like wobbly rats when the whistle calls.
I see no better solution to this than to follow one of our sayings, “We must get used to the sun that will rise, the wind that will blow, and the water that will flow.” The wisdom of the ages will be of great help.6
Tuesday, March 12
Today, twenty-five of us bought small trunks; we’ll use them to store our clothes and other items the government has given us. Each one cost $5.25.
I have discovered something that is interesting, but expected. I have begun to battle the horrible jealousy of a fellow soldier. He has been resentful since he noticed how the officers favor me. I had thought that some weak and small-minded person would eventually give in to this. He worries over the way they treat me. He takes this personally and wants to get rid of me. This is absurd and pedestrian. He may very well keep me from advancing, but this will not help him in his military career. If he could only understand that I am not seeking a position of importance, and that if I am ever appointed to one I want it to be because of my good work and not because of any kind of questionable intervention that would later discredit me.
March 12, 1918
My dear wife:
I received your letter last night. It made me very happy. I hope all of you continue to do well.
The captain is on his way and I have to stop writing and do some work. I finished the work that I had been assigned and continue with my letter. I am taking advantage of this typewriter that they will soon be taking away. I am too lazy to write by hand. They are coming for the typewriter.
Good-bye and may you all be happy,
Luz
Wednesday, March 13
A vendor arrived with photographs of the camp. His kind does not sleep and knows how to exploit the silver mine that is the soldiers’ money. Note this well, these are the false patriots. I bought a photo to send home, it captures our experiences well.
We continue to haul rocks for the sidewalk by the barrack. We brought them from a long distance in big wooden boxes that we made for the task. It was heavy work, but it was also a distraction and good exercise. We worked four to a box. The place with the rocks was far from the camp, about 200 yards distant, on the other side of the railroad tracks coming into the camp from the east.
The captain took me to the Personnel Department to complete my life insurance forms. I had to answer some questions the person in charge posed. He asked me if I filled in the questionnaire correctly, and I told him I did because I do not want to jeopardize my coverage. Although he spoke well of my work, I could see he did not believe me. I have done everything as expected. If I am not fit for service, let them exempt me.
I had no problem taking care of things, I was able to complete my insurance papers and guarantee myself full benefits.
Thursday, March 14
Today, while eating breakfast, we were ordered to prepare all our gear because we were moving to another place. We were to fall into formation and arrange our things. I found things entertaining as we presented ourselves for our first military assembly. We assembled our personal property as well as the government’s belongings, including the many differently shaped and colored suitcases. We were like worker ants carrying trunks and grass-filled mats, moving without knowing where or why, we simply followed orders.
We put on an amusing display, heavily loaded like pack mules, and ended up at the other side of the railroad tracks, the last one on the east side of the camp, very near the arroyo, or the Salado River. We came across some campaign tents that had already been set up and put up our own since we are to live in them now. It was an unpleasant experience. We were beginning to like living in the barracks, despite everything, including the loss of our past privileges. We do not even have a kitchen, and the one that we may have to use is of poor quality. Our beds will be the same, except that we will now sleep in tents where we will surely suffer from the cold and the sun. Our gain will be the fresh air. We will eat a great deal of dirt with our food because the ground in this camp is sticky, and when it dries, the fine, unbearable dust is all around. All the food seems to be covered in salt and pepper, and to make matters worse we do not even have a table.
The landscape is beautiful. It is a vast plain that has been cleared for the training of the infantry and other troops. The tents easily accommodate five soldiers. We spent the rest of the morning setting up tents for the soldiers arriving later. My tent includes a carpenter named Cooper, a baker named Baccus, a railroad worker, and myself, a teacher.
The new captain is nothing like our previous one. His demeanor is very crude, and he has the body of a mastodon, makes full use of his authority, and is simply arrogant, despotic, and insolent. I imagine him to be one of those violent overseers I read about in books about slavery in another time, not ours. He is reddish, which makes him appear like the barbarous Huns of the past. He is clearly backcountry rough.
I was happy to see Second Lieutenant Curran Benton while waiting in line for lunch. He is a young friend from my childhood years and the son of a longtime teacher and friend from Corpus Christi. I do not know how Lieutenant Benton found out that I was here. I had not seen or heard from him in years. I put all of this behind me when we greeted. We disregarded military protocol and treated each other like we were in school. We only spoke briefly because we had to attend to duties. He gave me his address and we agreed to stay in touch. I will contact him as soon as the quarantine is lifted.
I forgot his address by the time he left, but I am sure it will be easy to get.
Friday, March 15
The new sergeant woke us up for formation with his whistle very early in the morning. That was our first reveille in all its glory. After calling the roll he made us march at a fast pace, “double quick,” for about one hundred yards. A northern wind blew cold and hard and the exercise felt good. When we returned, we ate breakfast in the open air. This is now our mess hall.
We were ordered to tend to our tents, to line up our stakes, and to clean everything that could appear unsightly around them. Once I removed the rocks that were in the way, straightened things inside, and lined up the stakes, I went to the kitchen and converted a new wooden box into a washstand. I later bought a washbasin and put my name on it.
Since we do not have anything to do in the evenings, some of my Mexican buddies and I spend our time close to the latrine, which is a good distance from the tents. In order to get there we have to pass by the recruit training area. Many Mexicans live at this remote place. After our day’s work, after we have eaten dinner and heard the names of the lucky ones who have received letters from home, after all of this daily routine, we go to places close to the Salado River that are always guarded by sentinels. We enjoy getting together to remember our past and to talk about what we expect in the future.
There, in the “drilling area,” where we often find ourselves exhausted from the difficult training of the day, we get together at some point in the afternoon and even at night to remember a past that we may never enjoy again. At the end of the afternoon, when the sun has barely set and leaves behind an immense sea of reddish light that adorns the west, we gather to talk about our troubles, hopes, and dreams. These are beautiful moments that we will always treasure. Wherever we look, we can see the dark silhouettes of uniformed men, all with an earnest bearing, serious, and pensive. Over there, to the west, the lights of the great city of San Antonio de Béxar are barely visible.
Saturday, March 16
This has been a very hot day and we have really felt it during training. We do not know what we are going to do here without a place to bathe. The Salado River is close, but we do not have permission to swim. Some men hope we may be allowed to go tomorrow.
Today, we received the last shot, and the vaccination to boot. After midday we did nothing. We only waited for the time when we are to go to the camp hospital.
My tent buddies received some nice packages from home. The sweets are good after the sparse meals we have been receiving since arriving at this place. I never had a taste for such things, but now I find myself wanting them. My buddies share their treats with me and I appreciate this. My family had offered to send me some sweets, but since we had been doing fine, I told them not to worry, that we did not need anything. Who could have foretold all of this? I was not the only one to underestimate the sudden and difficult changes we now face. Little by little we will learn to lighten the load and live better.
Sunday, March 17
Almost all of us woke up sick because of the shots and vaccination. The day went by quickly, I felt lazy and assumed that everyone felt the same way. The morning brought a northern wind that raised a lot of the dust we had loosened during the day. It is Sunday and we have nothing to do. Our circumstance does not encourage us to do anything.
I have been seeing airplanes all morning. They fly above our camp. Some of them have even landed where we train.
Many automobiles have been arriving since very early this morning, bringing relatives to visit the soldiers. They come with things. Many of the families bring food and eat with the men. We must remember that the quarantine is still in place and that the families cannot be near the soldiers. They have to stand ten feet from a line drawn by the sentinel who also guards the movement in and out of the camp. The cars line up alongside the road, and the soldiers talk with family members from inside and at some distance.
Many of the soldiers marched in a large military review in the afternoon. Several bands also participated. Since we could not join in, we were happy to see the review from a distance. The massive concentration of parading soldiers and their supervising officers was such a beautiful sight. More soldiers marched on their way to the baseball field where some played and others watched the national sport. Some of us have enjoyed the game so much in better times. They also had a band. We later saw them return in great spirits. They seemed to have really enjoyed themselves. All of these sights make our confined state more unbearable.
Our mail was delivered late in the afternoon. I received letters from some of my good friends and was happy to receive their good wishes. This made the rest of the day more agreeable, even though the monotony continued.
Monday, March 18
I typed ten letters for the redheaded captain. The short time I spent in his tent allowed me to see more closely the rough, cruel character of this arrogant military type. We could not get along and I found it necessary to tell him to look for someone else to do his work, for which I received no payment but much grief.
Many Indians from Oklahoma are staying in barracks near us. I had the good fortune of speaking with some and discovered that many have an impressive education and economic standing. They have shown us that they are true athletes, a racial ability they have preserved from the time of their ancestors and mine. They are clear about the part they are to play in the Great War. It largely parallels our own. We, the Mexican Americans, are going to war fully conscious of our decision and cherishing in our hearts the hope for a better future for our people who have been unjustly treated and scorned for so long.
We were told to line up our tent stakes after our meal. Later, we whitened them with lime. They assigned this work instead of training activities because the inoculations made many of the men feel out of sorts. Military discipline follows the Napoleonic code completely. It does not even allow a second for rest or thought because this is considered dangerous. The more the soldier’s mind can be dulled the better. He will be less apt to conspire or protest against the tyranny that is forced upon him to obey and act as a machine. It would be better to deaden all reasoning and teach him to act by instinct.
It is incredible how much dust we eat with our meals. It rises out of the ground that we march on all week. These days of March bring strong and constant winds.
Tuesday, March 19
The captain called me to the officer’s tent to type some letters. I had prepared several until it became necessary to use new carbon paper. The day was somewhat cold and humid, and the humidity soaked the papers. Immediately after I opened a small box with the carbon paper, the sheets above it curled up. The captain got angry because he thought it was my fault, and he tried to reprimand me. I had no choice but to show him that he was wrong. He destroyed the entire box of paper simply because the paper curled up. I refused to work after he told me I did not know how to handle the carbon paper. His violent behavior did not bother me. To the contrary, he freed me, for which I am grateful. I just brought him another man to do his work.
A few minutes later, I was training with my buddies.
We did a great deal of marching until midday, grew tired, and worked up an appetite. Once we ate, formation was called and we were told that whoever wanted to go swimming should bring his gear and soap. Most of us did. Only a few decided otherwise. Those who did not go continued with the training. Our march to the Salado River, the first one that we took since arriving, was very entertaining, pleasurable, and gratifying. Everyone was happy after the trip. The day was very hot and the water was cold.
The river has many good spots for swimming. The government has fixed up the entire river area for the soldiers.
Wednesday, March 20
We only marched until eleven and were called to the mess hall after lunch and given a physical examination. Uncovered above our waist, we passed by the examining doctors in the large tent. We wondered why they were doing this and were told that it was in preparation for our move to another camp or military group. Some of us took the news well because we are tired of the routine we have followed in the tent area. Others fear that we will be taken far from our families before we are able to take a day of liberty to go see them. In the end, we have no choice but to resign ourselves and accept what may come. The news has hit us like a bomb. We talk a great deal without knowing where all of this will end.
Thursday, March 21
We have not done anything else but supply ourselves with everything we need, that is, everything they brought to us. I find it interesting that they issue us everything we need. The soldiers mostly do what is expected of them. We understand that the government wants a military that acts as one, and that the officers are only interested in saying they have followed orders. That is why they give us parts of the uniform that do not match, which makes some of us appear ridiculous. This is a major problem in the military.
As I stated earlier, I have not been able to be of use to our captain. This is why I have decided it is best to only do my part as I am obligated to do it and to no longer volunteer as I would with someone who treated me better. This day has been very busy for the captain who has to prepare all our company reports for other officers. We also need many supplies, but the worst of it is the backlog of reports. The captain has been working hard all day and has made use of as many soldiers as possible to finish quickly. I did not help him when he sent for me. I prefer other duties. He came by in the afternoon to say he needed me and to go to his office.
A lot of work was pending when I arrived. As usual, the place was not without jealous characters who waste everything. My assignment did not go over well with some of my coworkers. Several of them wanted to show me that they knew more. It was so obvious that they bothered me. In the end, the captain told them, “Leave him alone, he knows this work better than all of you.” I did not know how to take the compliment. He was giving me a great deal of praise or was being facetious. It could be one thing or the other. What I do know is that I was able to show them all that I knew the work and that I did it in record time.
A concert was held in the captain’s tent in the evening. A band of black men who had come from a nearby camp performed the serenade. We had a good time while sitting on the ground and remembering moments from our civilian life.
Friday, March 22
We spent the whole day preparing to leave. The officers began to select the recruits who were to remain at Camp Travis and the ones who were to go to another military unit, that is, to other places different from ours. Carpenters, bakers, mechanics, and horsemen, etc., were selected out all day. Some of my buddies went with them while we were left to wait for new orders. We did not know what to think of this and were under strict orders not to say anything about our movements. If someone happened to know, he was prohibited from telling his family. When night fell, we were ordered to remain in our tents in case we were ordered to move immediately. We were told to remain awake, and here we were (it is eleven in the evening) waiting for orders.
Since this is a brigade camp, we have no doubts that many of us will have to go to different parts to complete the divisions that are forming. The 90th Division will be organized in Camp Travis. Its commander, General Henry T. Allen, appears anxious that the division be assembled to participate in the Great European War. This is why some of us hope to stay here.
Saturday, March 23
We waited almost half a night for orders to leave, but they did not come. Then they told us we could go to sleep. This is why we woke up somewhat drowsy, but we were always ready in line. Some of us figured that the transfers were for Fort Sill, Oklahoma. We believed that would be our destination. Of course, the orders could be revoked at any time. These measures were taken to confuse the enemy, who would want to know our troop movements. It is for our own good not to tell our family anything we know. It would be easy for them to spread the information that the thousands of enemy spies in this country are anxious to know. We should not forget that Germany continues to use its worldwide espionage system, its most powerful weapon.
Sunday, March 24
We had a beautiful morning and, as usual, automobiles began to arrive with families. This was a source of great joy since it would be the last time that many of the recruits would be receiving visitors. The rumors that we will soon leave this place continue and become more believable with time.
The order was given early in the day to prepare to march. We did not take long to get ready. The first morning hours passed while we waited for the order to move. The long wait was difficult. I had written my sister, my only relative in San Antonio, to visit me, but she did not. I lost hope of seeing her by the day’s end. At that point, we received orders to begin preparing for our departure. The silent, serious, and bored men marched with some misgivings because they did not know where we were going.
I had the opportunity to see the different companies pass by as if they were in review. My attention was drawn to the platoons of serious and crestfallen soldiers marching in tight formation. They marched past the front of my tent. Our company was the last one to deploy. It was already getting dark. We were part of the 9th Company, 3rd Battalion, of the 165th Division Brigade while in the tent encampment. The trucks transported our gear—our small trunks, our eternal blue bag, and the mattress with the blankets—and we carried the rest. We were worried that we did not know our destination. We were oblivious to everything during our march and thought we were really going to Oklahoma, but they began to divide us when we reached the barracks at old Camp Travis. A mere chance occurrence caused a mix-up that resulted in a gain for us. Our gear ended up in one place and we in another. They assigned all of us who are in the last platoon to general headquarters, lined us up in front of one of the barracks, and carried out the usual review to determine our occupations. They began to classify us according to what we reported.
It was late at night when we reached our quarters. Many of our buddies were already there. Since the first barrack had no room, we slept with the band of the 360th Infantry. After bathing, we ate and rested on this our first night of peace. We can finally hope for a few days of leave. The quarantine was lifted at that point. We will be assigned new officers.
H.Q. Co., 360th Inf., 90th Div.
Camp Travis, Texas
March 24, 1918
My Dear Wife:
I had not written because we were going to move and I did not know our destination. We are no longer quarantined. I am sorry I cannot go to see you. Marce is still dealing with life’s challenges. I have told her that you are thinking of coming to San Antonio. José also wants to come to San Antonio to attend school.
Now that I have permission to leave, I have no money. They have not paid us yet. Your check will go to San Antonio.
I hope all of you take care of yourselves,
LUZ