Demobilizing the 90th Division
Wednesday, June 18
It is impossible to describe the happiness we felt during our first night in our homes. One had to have been there. I suppose that what happened in my home was repeated everywhere else. My loved ones wanted to know everything and I wanted to hear about what they had done while I was gone. Happy and unpleasant memories, dreams, illusions, and experiences overwhelmed us and made it impossible to talk about everything. We all wanted to talk but no one really said anything. Joy was in all our hearts and everyone had a smile on his or her face.
We hardly took notice of the humble, traditional banquet my family prepared. The visit turned into a virtual “barrage” of questions and incomplete responses, but we did everything with complete joy and pleasure.
After waxing on the glory of the moment and our good fortune, the harsh reality began to set in. I will soon return to civilian life, and I need to decide what I am going to do with my children and myself. I thought about my teaching profession. Mr. Knox had told me that the classes for teachers had begun and that I should enroll because I had to take the examination. I did this. I went to the high school on Main Street where I had a good time seeing old friends and making new ones. I am once again grateful to Mr. Knox because he was kind enough to pay my ten-dollar enrollment fee, and he absolutely refused to accept my money. Mr. Knox instead spoke highly of me because I had met my patriotic duty. He added that his sacrifice was insignificant next to mine. Who else thinks this way? I should add that this is not the only favor I owe this generous and responsible man. Everything happened so fast when I was preparing to go to war that I was not able to visit all my relatives and tell them about my wishes for my family. I briefly told Mr. Knox I was on my way to fulfill my duty and I trusted that people who were to remain on the home front would understand what I was doing and offer my family a helping hand in time of need. I asked him, “Please visit my family whenever you can, I know they will need your help now and then.” I advised my family, “Go to this man when you are in a bind, trust him completely.” My dear friend was true to his word and I thank him for being a gentleman. Gold cannot repay this debt. Knowing that such reasonable, honorable, self-respecting, and fair men exist helped us bear the bad treatment and insults that ignorant, insolent, narrow-minded, and wicked citizens directed at us.
I returned to the camp, where I figured out what I had to do for my discharge. Gómez and I went back to the city later in the day. I bought some everyday wear and visited my old friends, Mr. Ignacio Lozano and José G. González at the offices of La Prensa. I promised to share with them my experiences from the Great War.
A soldier who had just returned from Europe invited me to a dance that evening. Gómez joined me. He really shook up the dance floor. I could not locate Barrera; otherwise, I would have also made him dance up a storm. We were very pleased with the reception our people prepared for us as the defenders of our racial pride and good name.
Thursday, June 19
I attended classes for teachers in the morning and went to the camp in the afternoon. My friends are turning in all their government property. We are to keep a complete uniform for ourselves. Of course, we will keep the best one. We joked around and even acted as if we were happy when we said good-bye to everything that had become a part of us. When I turned in my carbine, I could not help remembering two horrible nights—the evening of our first advance and the night when I wandered into no man’s land. Many of the soldiers had the nerve or were simply bold in refusing to turn in everything. I would have wanted to keep our eating utensils and would have paid for them. I was not interested in their material value, but wanted to keep the memories that came with them.
I placed the rest of my clothes and other personal items in my blue canvas bag. I wanted to take it home as a souvenir to remind me of the equipment we carried in the unforgettable trenches of France. We can only wear the government-issued uniform for sixty days. This would give us enough time to buy civilian clothes. Our uniform consisted of the raincoat, chapeau, overcoat, gas mask, steel helmet, blue woolen bag, undergarments, and military shoes.
It rained for a good while, and this made me late for my teacher examination, but I finished and never lost hope that I would do well. Although I had not reviewed the books for almost two years, my ability to recall was unfailing. I took the examination to teach while still in the military.
Felipe García, a good friend from San Diego, works with me in the office where we process the discharge papers. I was very happy to see him, but we had little time to talk.
I filled out my questionnaire this afternoon. The information they are collecting is probably useless. Many of the forms are so badly filled out that they will be difficult to use regardless of the intentions of the military. They will present the same problems as the ones that we filled out when we left for Europe.
I headed for home, happy but worrying about tomorrow’s challenges.
We have to return tomorrow, maybe for the last time. So be it.
Saturday, June 21
We ate breakfast on the government’s tab for the last time. We will begin paying our own way tomorrow, if we have any money to spare. We have claimed victory, we must now pay up.
We fell into formation for our last pay, but it was not the same. No one felt the military spirit. Who knows what was racing through our minds. We were stunned. As much as we tried to make sense of the animated conversations like we used to do, it was impossible. Our companions in arms are entering General Headquarters, where they are receiving their pay. As soon as they went outside, they acted like animals throwing off their binding chains. They were leaving without saying good-bye to their brothers in misery. When our turn came—we were among the last—no one was around to bid farewell. This is how man yearns for freedom, as he is abandoning military discipline or subliminally seeking the slavery of the sweet obligations of home! He is oblivious to everything!
I would have given anything to have been able to say goodbye to every one of my Mexican brothers. It was impossible. May they go in peace and may their homes give them sustenance and serve as sources of pride and honor for our children, for whom we have made the greatest sacrifice and in whose name we have helped write the latest page in our national history.
We were given a discharge document, a bonus of $60, permission to wear our uniform for sixty days, and a government-issued pass for our trip home. What a great deal! Many of us would have been unable to pay the cost of transportation and a set of civilian clothes.
I ate with my family. At one in the afternoon, I took the train to Alice where my father and the rest of my brothers lived. Other discharged soldiers traveled on the same train.
Although I had seen my wife and children, I could not really be happy until I visited with my dear father. The train arrived a few minutes after five. I said hello to some of my brothers and walked home. I wanted to walk the ground of my youth. My father was already heading toward me and that is how I was able to take the poor man in my arms before reaching home. He is the kindest father in the world.
I take in my surroundings but it all seems like a dream. After our joyful greeting, my father, brothers, and sisters leave to finish their day’s work and I find myself alone to rest for a while. I am exhausted, sad, and deep in thought. It is six in the afternoon. We will be gathering at Salón Salazar at eight o’clock. At the suggestion of our dear friend Mr. Ascencio Treviño, some of our friends are eager to celebrate our return.
We will have to accept our friends’ good wishes, although I would have preferred to stay home, my dear place of joy, which I often feared I would never see again. I want to talk to my family and to hear from them until we can no longer speak.
YEARNING
I am beginning to feel the full effect of the memories that were etched in my mind during the sixteen months of military service. I recall the reasons for pursuing such an adventure and understand that if I gained nothing, at least I feel fulfilled.
Like in a movie, I see myself arriving at New Braunfels, my presentation before government officials, a short and lively conversation with an old German, my observations at the tavern before we ate, our meal at the Plaza Hotel, the railroad station and our trip to Camp Travis, our first impressions at the camp, scenes of our training, and the military preparations for our departure. Our camp became a virtual ant colony during those days. I see many military trains arriving, every one of them with a chain of Pullman cars to carry millions of men to the Atlantic coast and the high seas. I see our car, the Inverary, my travel companions, our exit from the camp, and our farewell to San Antonio. On our way to the northeast, we pass by New Braunfels, San Marcos, Austin, Dallas, Greenville, Texarkana (Texas), Smoky River, Pine Bluff (Arkansas), and “the father of all rivers,” the Mississippi. We arrive at the Great Lakes, Cleveland, Buffalo, Utica, Albany, Norwich, Middletown, and Hoboken, NJ. We cross the New York bay, near the Statue of Liberty, on the steamship Catskill. We disembark on Long Island and spend one night at Camp Mills. The next day we cross the bay, this time on the Washington, and dock at a huge wharf in New York City. The massive English steamship Olympic is waiting for us. Some ladies from the Red Cross give us a sandwich and an orange (we haven’t eaten breakfast). A YMCA representative gives each soldier a postcard with a printed message. The card informs our family members about our arrival. We sleep on hammocks that night while the ship is tied to the dock. We will never forget the small servings of bad food the English gave us during our first days—horsemeat, potatoes, unsalted fish, rotten bread, and poor quality tea. This was such pitiful food for the soldiers of democracy on the precarious crusade to help save our civilization.
We leave on June 14. Two destroyers escort us the entire day. The Olympic travels day and night at 22 knots per hour. We see land on the twenty-first, believing that we have reached Ireland. The F52, the H6A1, the 48, and the 00 join us. They belong to the US Navy. In the afternoon, we pass by Whit Island and enter Southampton Port, England. We sleep on the ship, disembark in the morning, and stay indoors. We cross the English Channel on the King Edward at sunset, arrive at Le Havre, France, in eight hours, and rest for a day in an English military camp. The next day, we head to the south of France. After reaching Lautrec, we march to Rouvres-sur-Aube, Haute-de-Marne. On August 18 we leave for Toul and later to the first front at Saint-Mihiel. We spend time at Villers, Fey, Jezainville, Montville, Norroy, Pont-à-Mousson, Bois le Prete, and the Moselle River. On October 10, we leave the front for Toul and then Rampondt. From there, we march through Nixeville, Blecourt, Dombasle in Argonne, Avocourt, Melancourt, Montfaucon, Dead Man Hill, Hill 304, Cierges and Nantillois. We end up on the outskirts of Romagne. On the first of November, we begin to throw out the Germans from Mantheville, Aincreville, Villers-devant-Dun, Dun, Mouzay, and Stenay. The armistice comes. We leave France for Germany, crossing Luxembourg and reaching Zeltingen on the Moselle, where we spend six months as the army of occupation. We travel to Koblenz and Paris. Our next departure takes us across Germany and France until we reach Saint-Nazaire. The Mongolia transports us to the United States. We reach Boston, Nashville, New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Beaumont, Houston, San Antonio, Camp Travis, and my home.
I am home, safe and sound, and reviewing all these memories as if in a dream. All of this pleases me. I have been faithful to my duty.
Have we saved democracy, civilization, the nation, humanity? I do not know. What I do know is that the Mexican American has distinguished and asserted himself. The glorious stars and stripes we have defended with our lives in European battlefields will no doubt serve as our children’s banner for years to come. These are the kind of sacrifices that forge a nation and honor a flag. It is only right that when the last glorious chapter of our National American History is written we do not forget that Mexican Americans have made a contribution with their blood.
Fini la Guerre!