We were never quite so glad to see any soldiers as we were the 809th Pioneer Infantry, and the 33 Lieutenants of the Artillery who arrived that Monday morning in October. We met them first as they rested on the beautiful ocean boulevard of St. Nazaire. Life flowed into us once again as we flitted among them welcoming them to our camp and hot chocolate. Even then, many of them looked very worn and ill, but we hardly dreamed of the tragedy of that October transport. We were on our way that morning to the weekly Y Conference with its inspirational and helpful program that, no doubt, was a large factor in the success of the area. But the conference seemed very long, so anxious were we to get to camp. We requested at headquarters special transportation to speed our errands and hurry us to work. Soon we are in our hut—it is crowded—men are everywhere and we look over the crowd and wonder what has happened. These are not the swarthy lads we were welcoming on the ocean front—only here and there do we see one. We are still wondering when a voice close at hand says, “Lady, got any paper and envelopes?” “Certainly,” we say, and then we begin to meet the first need of the soldiers. Meantime, we are saying, “No, no stamps necessary—turn your letter over to your company commander to be censored.” “Oh, yes—three-cent stamp if your folks are in Italy.” Later we learn that many of our own boys have been sent to another camp, and that most of those in our camp are in a distant part. We learn something else—influenza is raging—hundreds of men have died on the voyage—the hospitals are crowded, so are the barracks. Sick men could hardly be left in “pup” tents in the deep mud and constant rain of that season. That night another change comes over our hut. On all the benches, in all the corners and in what had been our cheerful reading room are sick men, many of them ill unto death. We are not only preparing hot chocolate now, but all day long we are preparing lemons, so that at night we may pass among these men with hot lemonade. It is a sad time—graves can hardly be dug rapidly enough—nurses are scarce—every one is doing the best he knows. True, these are not colored boys we are serving, but what matters that—they are soldiers all, and every lad of them a mother’s son. We go to the hospital and move among them. They can only see the smile in our eyes, for we wear the white masque across our faces. To the convalescent we give cigarettes, literature, gum, and now and then candy. For the very ill we leave oranges or lemons. For some there is little need to leave anything but a prayer.
The following is an extract from a letter received from a soldier with reference to that period, “It was in St. Nazaire at Base 101, that I was desperately sick with ‘Flu’ in October, 1918. Mr. Davis, whom I had known at Evansville, came through my ward. Next day you and Miss Johnson came with oranges and that most prized thing in all the world at that time—lemons. Oh, how good you did look to me! Then, too, how kind you folk were when I rejoined my outfit at Camp One. My mind recalls that Sunday evening ‘Quiet Hour’ you held, while we were there. How you spoke to the boys and urged them to keep themselves clean for the sake of the good women back home. Then when you asked us to talk—what man could have kept still.” The plague passed, and many a man was laid to rest having done his bit to the utmost, though it simply meant breaking home ties and reaching the port of France. After, the plague had spent itself, we marched one day with a long line to the American Cemetery, a mile distant from the town. There, while the day was dying, a Red Cross Chaplain told impressively the challenge flung to us by those white crosses upon which we looked, and that had come so suddenly into our little part of that death-ridden country. The French people brought flowers, the Red Cross and Y secretaries sang, the band played “America,” the trumpeter sounded the “Taps,” the guns rang out for the dead and then we left them alone in their glory.
The sixteen Y women who came to France in the spring of 1919 worked much as the first three women had, except that they were able to go out by twos. The first three women had always been in different camps, each a lone woman in her hut. There might be a dozen Y women in her camp—but she worked absolutely alone, often her hours stretching from 9 in the morning to 9 at night—but always it was a work of love. When the sixteen women arrived, they brought in themselves companionship, not only for the soldiers but for the women already over there. Five of them went to the Leave Area. Dr. N. Fairfax Brown, Mrs. Childs and Mrs. Williamson joined Mrs. Curtis at Chambery and Misses Evans and Thomas with Miss Johnson, who had been at St. Nazaire, joined Mrs. Hunton at Challes-les-Eaux. Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Craigwell succeeded Miss Johnson at St. Nazaire, while Misses Bruce and Garbon went to Marseilles. First Misses Rochon, Edwards and Phelps found place with that splendid secretary, Mr. Sadler, in the Chaumont Area. Misses Saurez and Turner went to Le Mans. The soldiers had seen every variety of entertainer sent to France. They had heard some of the very best of American and foreign pianists, but none had received the ovation from the colored soldiers that was given Miss Helen Hagan, the only colored artist sent to France. Everywhere she was received by tremendous crowds of men with rapturous applause, and her wonderful talent was never put to better use nor more deeply appreciated. The last woman to arrive for overseas work was Mrs. Mary V. Talbert, President of the National Association of Colored Women. We felt deeply honored in having her a member of our overseas group. With Misses Rochon and Edwards, Mrs. Talbert joined Mrs. Curtis, who had succeeded Mrs. Hunton at Romagne. There she won the hearts of the soldiers completely. They gave her a purse of $1,000 for the Frederick Douglass Home at Anacostia, which through Mrs. Talbert’s untiring efforts, has been made a national memorial for colored Americans.
A. Men in Class Room. B. A Group of Canteen Workers en route Home! C. Serving at the Wet Canteen. D. “Our Boys.” E. More of “Our Boys” at Brest.
Many changes were made by the Y women in that last lap of the work. This was caused by the rapid closing of the various areas and the departure of the men for the ports. With the close of the Leave Area Mrs. Curtis went to Romagne. Miss Thomas and Mrs. Williamson were sent to Belleau Woods, near Chateau Thierry. It was not lovely like the Leave Area, but living in tents, they served the lonely fellows who were making the cemetery there. Their Y hut was only a large tent, but it was beautiful inside the day we saw it with plants and wild flowers in profusion and with one corner equipped as a library. On one side was the canteen with its ice-cold lemonade and macaroons. How proud the men were of it all and how they worshipped those women! For the women it was the biggest work they had ever done.
To Joinville went Dr. Brown and Mrs. Childs, to serve for many, many weeks the 806th Pioneer Infantry and others who were building the Pershing Stadium. For their splendid work there, the men sang their praises without stint.
General Pershing in commending the splendid service rendered by the Y. M. C. A. in the Leave Area, especially commends the work of the women. While always there was competent French help and splendid men secretaries came to help in the Leave Area, for four months almost, Mrs. Curtis and Mrs. Hunton felt not only the responsibility of providing the meals served in the two areas, but the beautifying and housekeeping of the buildings and constant entertainment of the men. Over the canteen in the Leave Area was something more than the jolly vacation that we worked to make it—it was a time for bracing the morale of the men and sending them back to camp with hope and cheer, vision and strength.
Misses Rochon and Edwards in the Chaumont Area and Miss Evans in the Le Mans Area did what was known as rolling canteen service for the men. We have heard the men tell of the first time these “angels” appeared in their isolated camps. It was difficult to believe their eyes—that American women of their own had sought them out in those far-off lonely places, and were actually bringing them good, hot chocolate and other heavenly blessings, but best of all the sunshine of their smiles.
No woman who went to France won stronger approbation for her work than did Miss Saurez. When a prize had been offered at Le Mans for the most homelike and best kept hut, it was this little colored Y lady who won it.