On the Last Cattle Train and Cars 40 and 8
Saturday, May 17
We slept well and were ordered to rise very early and put away our beds. We ate breakfast and waited for our train. The trains began to leave, but ours did not depart until ten. We were already worrying that we would never leave. Some friends even wondered if we were not being taken into the interior of Germany.
We finally left Wengerohr and began to take in the new vistas. We were so deep in thought that no one had spoken in a long time. Once in a great while someone yawned or asked for a light for his cigarette as the train rolled downhill sounding like a jalopy and shaking us about with its constant jerking movements. Each time we reached another hamlet, the engine’s whistle was so weak it was barely audible.
We got off at Trier and did some physical exercises. This helped with the blood circulation and gave us a sense of new life and a good appetite. The Red Cross gave us cigarettes, a cup of hot coffee, and a sandwich, which we gladly accepted. We were later given a bag with shaving material and a deck of cards. Sergeant Krugger and I played rummy once we resumed our ride.
Our bugler and the director of the 360th band, Lieutenant Banberry, makes his beautiful silver cornet resonate a new order now and then. We ate and took two trains to a place about thirty-five kilometers from Verdun. This is where the war’s destruction ended, the last battlefield of gruesome fighting. I will regret it if we do not make it to Verdun and “The Ladies’ Path,” the site where the prince of the German crown sacrificed more than half a million men to retake Verdun. A man’s whim resulted in such a costly loss of lives! It is six in the afternoon and we have stopped near a cemetery containing the remains of French soldiers who fell in the area. These are sacred sites for France as well as for everyone who cares about our civilization, which almost disappeared under the weight of despotic ideas. This is where we broke the pride of the most formidable emperor in history. The signs of battle are still visible wherever one looks. Over there, we see a town in ruins, its houses torn to pieces by cannon fire. Farther up, we can see the thick barbed wire that blocked our nightly offensives against enemy positions. War material is strewn everywhere as if a battle had just ended. A truck in ruins is before us, probably overturned by cannon fire. The crater left by the explosion is still visible. What happened to the soldiers in the truck? They were probably nearing the front. We would not be off by much if we said that they are sleeping in that cemetery.
We did not pass by Verdun during the day as I had hoped. The rain started coming down early in the morning and the train stopped for a while at a distance from Verdun. We saw large stockpiles of war matériel the Germans left. I took the opportunity to quickly look around and found many German steel helmets. I took one and so did the other soldiers.
Sunday, May 18
THE BATTLE OF VERDUN
It started to rain very early last night. It got so dark that we never would have been able to take in the entire view of the historic Verdun fortress. The mountains on the approach to Verdun were completely demolished. The dense fog and rain kept us from seeing more.
We traveled all night. If we had not been soldiers on our way home, we probably would not have survived that infernal trip. The reeling, jerking, and bouncing movement of the train kept us awake until very late, when we finally fell asleep, or at least it felt like we went to sleep. Our sergeant had ordered us to close the only door to our car, leaving a small grilled window for air circulation. The cool night kept us from asphyxiating. I have already noted that the Pullman cars have unattractive names. Their plaques read “10 horses, 40 men.”
I did not know our whereabouts when we woke up and someone stated, “I hope that we are not going into the heart of Germany.” We were able to see the green farmlands with the early morning light. We passed by Joinville and Bessons and thought that we would reach Orleans because of the direction we were taking, but that was not the case. The beating we took from that rough train ride did not keep us from enjoying the sights. Everything was new to us since we had only seen the parts of France destroyed by war. France seems different now that we are traveling through its southern region. The people had always appeared sad and quiet, but they now looked cheerful, in short, an entirely different nation.
Monday, May 19
The train thrashed us around again last night and the motion kept us from sleeping well. We arrived at Saint-Pierre-de-Corps in the morning and ate breakfast. “Chow time” produces the liveliest moments. This is when the tensions of life are most evident. No one wants to be the least among us. The best thing to say at this time is, “We’re born to die, count me in!” We have two meals a day and take full advantage of them. Uncle Sam is not saving any money by cutting out the third meal. The view from the train on the way home brings back memories from 1898, when I was a boy and we were at war with Spain. I remember seeing the soldiers traveling by train, either to the Mexican border or directly to Cuba. The children would say, “Someday we will be going too.”
We passed by Angers and wished we could walk its streets. We felt the same way when we came to the lovely city of Nantes. Our train would not stop. It seemed to want to quickly rid itself of the American plague or it understood how eager we were to return home. We do want to return home, but no harm would have been done if we had been allowed some sightseeing to appreciate the France that we will be hard-pressed to describe. We have been enjoying the most wonderful sights as we travel along the beautiful Loire River.
We arrived at the port of Saint-Nazaire around five in the afternoon. One of the first things we saw was the blue sea, the Atlantic that we often thought we would never see again. Ships of all sizes were in dock. Which one will take us to America? Large train engines were being unloaded from two big steamships that had just returned from the United States of America. Enormous cranes were placing them on the rails. The plaza is beautiful. Many ladies and sailors are conversing in French on the beach while some soldiers are swimming. A good number of the women are “sharks” who follow the soldiers in search of money. Many of the soldiers are American. The march to the first camp was strenuous. We felt right at home in the American-style barracks and quickly made our beds. We ate very late and were quick to hit the sack.
Saint-Nazaire will become one of the most important ports in Europe once a permanent peace is established and the United States supplies the reconstruction of France, Belgium, and Germany.
We had just finished breakfast when the officers announced a physical examination. It was complete, much like before the war. Afterward, we marched to camp No. 2 and took possession of new barracks, which were better than the first.
Some of my buddies told me that a soldier who knows me would be coming to see me. He is one of the soldiers who stayed behind and did not make it to the front. I am eager to know who he is.
The soldier arrived shortly thereafter. He was no other than an old student of mine from Cotulla whom I had taught in 1910. His name is Pablo Gutiérrez, a sergeant with the Special Operations Squadron (SOS). We talked at length about our past and his experiences during the war. In short, I learned he has moved around and that he has always wanted to improve his social and economic standing, as well as his intellectual understanding. He had to venture out of that poor town of Cotulla, resigned to toil like every other man who is poor financially but rich in noble and dignified aspirations. Gutiérrez is a brave soldier and a very worthy example for our youth to follow in the future.
I saw many other friends from my regiment and sent my children the German helmet I picked up in Verdun, but I doubt it will reach them. Other soldiers are sending their souvenirs, but swindlers in the service are stealing and selling them.
I have been assigned a task for tomorrow and have heard that it is not one of the most pleasant.
Wednesday, May 21
I was able to get out of doing the job that I was assigned. In military life, ingenuity and strategy are essential in the hands of someone who knows how to use them. I used my wiles to make “some other fool carry the load.”1 Sergeant Kelleher and I had a good time making our rounds through the YMCA and the Knights of Columbus halls and a few other places in the camp. We bought souvenirs and planned on sending them home because we are told that we cannot take anything with us.
We read an announcement at the Knights of Columbus hall that an important baseball game was scheduled for the afternoon, and we went to see it. The field was well-kept and spacious. The 88th Regiment of the Health Corps and a marine regiment battled it out. It was a hard-fought contest, one of the best games we have seen on this side of the ocean. Twelve innings were required to decide the outcome. It was impossible to tell who was going to win. The marines finally scored the winning run to end the game with a score of 4 to 3.
The 359th Infantry band played during the baseball tournament, and its counterpart from the 360th entertained us in the evening. This is where I saw Pablo Pérez.
Thursday, May 22
It rained quite a bit last night. Many soldiers arrived in the evening and everything grew lively early in the morning. Platoons of soldiers are roaming in search of the rest of their buddies. We took a bath today. I was assigned to work at General Headquarters. After supper, Gómez and I went to the camp that housed the 359th Infantry and the 343rd Artillery. I saw several of my Mexican friends, some from Alice. They came to our barracks and we had a long discussion about our past, especially when we saw “the grim reaper” up close. Someone commented on the bad behavior of a certain Jack (more stupid than an ass), a scheming and malicious coward.
Friday, May 23
Today was beautiful. I went to the Knights of Columbus after my meal and read for a good while. I later spent some time with Gutiérrez at his workplace, where he disinfects soldiers’ clothing using a steam pump.
We went to see a ball game but it did not take place; we returned to our barracks right away. The machine gun companies were playing a team from the SOS when we arrived at our barracks. The former won with a score of 22 to 8. Gleim and I went to a shop and bought some souvenirs. I later accompanied Sergeant Kelleher to buy his souvenirs.
Some black soldiers from America played baseball until very late. The game must have been closely fought since they played until they could no longer see the ball. You could hear them playing with the same enthusiasm that everyone else expressed.
San Nazario, France
May 24, 1919
Dear Family:
Thank God, we are at the port of embarkation. We have not been able to leave but we are headed out. Be attentive to the news so that you know of our arrival. We are told that our first destination will be Houston, where a banquet will be prepared for us. Screams from the platform and clouds of smoke will complete the homecoming scene. We’ll see what kind of reception awaits us in San Antonio, the birthplace of the 90th Division.
Luz
Saturday, May 24
We lost our patience when a counterorder delayed our departure. Very little amuses us now because “we have set our sights on the ranch.”2
We have no entertainment other than baseball games. The 343rd Artillery played against a machine gun battalion today. The artillerymen won 8 to 1.
Our colonel conducted an inspection and found problems in our barracks. He disciplined us with four hours of daily physical exercises. Nothing was wrong with us but we agree that the exercise and discipline can keep our minds occupied and settle our nerves. As the saying goes, “the less a private thinks or has time to think, the better.” In the Intelligence Department, we know how most of these orders are put together and relied on our astuteness to get out of things. “You don’t need horses from another corral when fighting the bulls from Jaral.”3
Sunday, May 25
We had a minstrel show with song and dance by blacks from the south. I went to mass at a Knights of Columbus hall. We did physical exercises after the services and later attended very interesting talks by Dr. Barton and Mr. Manos. The speakers were very good. They moved the audience on several occasions.
Last night we heard the pathetic bellowing and whistling of the arriving and departing steamers. The whistles reminded us of the sounds on the high seas that warned us of fire or threats from submarines. They now seem like dreams, but we are ready to hear the warnings and are hearing them again. Those were horrifying times for the men on the war-torn seas. No coast was safe from the enemy submarines. How many men must have heard that mournful whistle, their last alarm while on this world?
Monday, May 26
Our captain led the physical exercises this morning. All of us thought he was half-asleep because he would order us to do something and forget to give us a new order until we were completely exhausted.
We had to prepare our report, which kept us from participating in the maneuvers.
It is two and we are waiting for the start of a baseball game. I have spent several hours resting and reading until the heat and the humidity of the day got me tired and put me to sleep. I am at one of the Knights of Columbus halls. We had mass this morning.
Word is spreading that we will be leaving this evening, but we have not received orders. Others tell us that we will definitively leave tomorrow. This has made everyone happy. We will never experience anything like this again, waiting eagerly to return to our beloved homes after suffering terribly in the greatest of all wars.
Many soldiers were in joyful conversation, others sang, while still others played instruments. This is how another day of waiting comes to an end, caressing sweet dreams but getting older.