family historians club on golo: blog 
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two wwi letters from the gilligat archives
by gilligatPublished Jul. 15, 2008
Two WWI letters from the Gilligat archives offer a glimpse into the thoughts and life of a young doctor serving in the U.S. Army.
June 5th, 1917.Ward “E”, Base Hospital, No. 1,Fort Sam Houston,San Antonio, TexasMy Dear Mother and Alma:- I hope to be able to keep a sort of diary in the form of letters to you which I hope you will preserve. I have been in such a terrible state of rush and confusion however that this first attempt will be more of an effort to tell you what my immediate prospects are. In the first place the order transferring me here, while it was not as you know unexpected, was most sudden. I packed up, stored the car, pulled the blinds down in my office, fixed up all my papers in my box at the National Bank of Montana, and left Thursday, arriving Sunday night, “nearly all in” from almost two weeks of solid traveling. I will skip my impressions of San Antonio. I like it in spite of the really terrific heat and the Mexicans (who constitute about one third of the population of this town of around 125,000). I have seen the Alamo from the outside, but haven’t had time to go in yet. From the outside, peering through the windows of the ruins into the courtyards, or patios, or whatever they call them, is itself inspiring. I am surprised too at the Mexicans. I had always regarded the Mexicans, for some reason, as a lot of dirty, ignorant, bohunks--something like the Italians who dig our streets. Of course I find plenty of this type, but am astonished whenever, as frequently happens, I run across fine men and women of perfectly evident high caste, education and dressed and acting in every way the very grand ladies or gentlemen that I rather felt existed only in stories or movies. It is hot! Damnably hot! and I feel it terribly with all the running around that I have to do. We are quartered in base hospital No. 1, occupying ward E. We have no duties to perform, and are free to come and go as we please so long as we are ready and completely outfitted when our assignments come. We have no time for loafing, however, for there is a tremendous amount of red tape in getting all of our things together. At night we sleep on cots on the porch with no clothes on, and eat at the officers “Mounted Service Club”. I don’t know just how big this post is. I only know it is a whale of a place, miles and miles and miles of it, representing every department of the service in our army-- infantry, calvalry, artillery, aviation, medical, motor-truck, etc., etc. All of the medical reserve officers, like myself, seem anxious for foreign service rather than recruiting duty, but no one knows where he will be assigned. Leon Springs seems to be the most favorable assignment to get foreign service. All of the medical men here on the same mission as myself are the highest type of men, but the opinion seems to be that we who came at the first call are to be the goats, while those who are still holding back may pull down the soft jobs. Since starting this chronicle I have been assigned and on duty in camp for a week, and have written you several short notes. I can see that I am never going to be able to keep up a regular chronicle of events, for I shall be writing you notes whenever the opportunities present themselves, and I fear that these longer letters will suffer. As you know I have been assigned to ‘Provisional Field Hospital ‘B’ “, which is a part of General Pershings first division to enter the conflict. We were to leave here tomorrow, but there is some hitch in our transportation, and we will be delayed for a few days yet. We are camped about six miles out of town, just beyond Camp Wilson, and are I believe a part of Camp Wilson. It is very pretty out here, and desperately hot in the daytime. At night there is a breeze from the Gulf which, though it is not cool, is welcome, for it drives the flies away. We sleep under netting with no bed clothes, not even pajamas. Just take off our uniforms and lie down (and sweat—not perspire, but sweat). The food is wholesome, and there is plenty of it, thought it is not very fancy. Somehow I can’t get used to dinner food for breakfast. Major B. and Capt. F. and I are the only officers here, and we have just 80 men in our corps. Major B. and Capt. F. (medical men of course) are both regular army men of Many years service, and very strict disciplinarians but liked and admired by the men for their fairness. They are both itching to get into the fight for it means promotion, etc., for them. I don’t know that I am quite as keen about it now that I realize just what it means. Ours will be the first unit over there from the regular army, and we will surely get it. Here is what the Field Hospital is: First, right with the infantry in the trenches are the “First Aid” Stations. The ambulances and the men on foot go out at night between the trenches (through “no mans land”) and gather up the wounded. Three or four miles back of the trenches come the “Field Hospitals” out of the range of rifle fire but of course within range of the big guns, but placed in as sheltered a position as possible. The ambulances bring the injured into us. We operate on and redress them and pass them back to the “Evacuation Hospitals” which are about at the edge of the big gun fire. From the “Evacuation Hospitals” the men go to the Base Hospitals. So you see I am fairly safe, but might be in a much softer berth. However, I have nothing to say of it but go where I am put. The one thing that worries me is how I am to get out of this thing when the war is over. Being “in” the regular army means you can’t get out until Uncle Sam is ready to let you out. I am ready to stay until it is over but I want you to get any and all of out influential friends to work immediately and hard with the highest authorities to get me out as soon as it is over. Everyone will be trying the same game and it will take a big swing to get prompt action. We are due to leave here tomorrow for our point of embarkation but have been, as I told you, delayed a few days. It is almost a cinch that we will sail from Hoboken, and will, of course, be convoyed by ships of the Navy. Our unit comprises what is known as a “Sanitary Train” and consists of two companies of 80 men such as we have here (but with six officers, all doctors) and two ambulance companies of 150 men each with six officers (all medical men) to each, the four making an outfit of about 500 men which will eventually all be together, though we are now separated. Our ambulances are mule drawn instead of motor and will be the first of their kind in Europe. It is believed that they will get through the crater holes better than the motors. Our days here are taken up with all kinds of drilling—pitching hospital, ward and operating tents (though we are to use churches, etc., when available) taking them down and pitching them again, of marching, drilling, hiking, doing stretcher drills with searchers for wounded, loading and unloading wagons, riding bareback and with saddles both mules and horses, swimming, first aid, operating technique, etc., etc., etc., till we are weary but gradually hardening into shape. I am of course a mounted officer and have bought me a beautiful thoroughbred black horse with not a white hair on him except the star on his forehead. He is truly a beauty both to watch and to ride. I call him “Victor”. You would love him too as I do. I must ring off now. When you write me adress me as “P--- G. C---, 1st Lieut. M.O.R.C., U.S. Army, c/o Surgeon General’s Office, Washington, D. C., marking “Forward” and after you know I have gone abroad adding “On Foreign Service” to the U.S. Army. With best love to you two always, Your affectionate son and brother, P-----.This next letter is undated but the Zeppelin L49 was brought down on October 20th, 1917 at Bourbonne les Bains on the French coast while it was returning to its base after an attack on London. This letter can be dated between October and Christmas 1917.
From P---- G. C---. 1st Lieut. M.O.R.C: Field Hospital #2 1st Division A.E.F. France To: Mrs. P---- G. G----- & Family Jacksonville, Ill. U.S.A. My dear Grandma et al- My intentions are good even tho my execution is poor. Once again, I offer the same old excuse for not writing you viz - too busy. This time however I am sure you will appreciate that my “business” for the past five months has been absorbing to say the least. You know thru mother my story up to date. In brief it is that I volunteered on the declaration of war, was called to active service in May and left so hurriedly that even today I am paying rent on my office in Helena (I had no time to pack up, sell my car or make any preparation). I went to San Antonio Texas (Fort Sam Houston) where I succeeded in landing a Field Hospital with the regular army, trained there two months and then, best of all, succeeded in being one of the first division to come to France and get in the game. What do you think of that? Whatever comes, nothing can take away from me the honor and glory of being the FIRST division. It makes up for some of the hardships that come now and then. Neither space of time nor the censor will permit of my going into details. Our trip across was pleasant and tinged with a bit of excitement. Our welcome in England was inspiring. The crossing of the channel was an experience the like of which I hope and expect never to have again. We arrived in France, as you know, at the end of summer- just in time for the rainy season. Today we are in what is left of a quaint little village a few miles behind the trenches. Always we are within sound and feel of the roar of the great guns. Even as I write now I can feel them pounding away so that my table is jarred. Our sector you know the name of as well as you do that of Jacksonville. You read of it every day. It is all most interesting, most exciting and most awful but I would not miss it for anything. Our field Hospital will probably move up soon and go into a dug out hospital just behind the trenches- and I hope it will be soon. The men are all anxious to get right into it, and I am sure that our men will give good accounts of themselves. We have been working with the French up to date but as you have probably read, we are beginning to hold trenches ourselves. I could tell you many interesting things but dare not. Personally I have seen and know of cases of wanton barbarism by the Boche. I know of one case of five children ranging in age from 2 to 8 years of age, in one family- each with a right hand cut off at the wrist. Personally I have had some interesting experiences. I have been in a “gassed” bomb proof where to remove my mask for a single instant meant total blindness _The Boche use different kinds of gases- some burn the flesh, some blind, some kill instantly by asphyxiation, some are high explosives and some have neither odor or any unpleasant effect to give warning, but kill suddenly, four hours after inhaling). I was on a commission and happened to be on hand at the capture of Zeppelin L49 which was brought down intact. I was there almost as soon as it happened and saw the whole thing. I enclosed herewith a small piece of gas bag as a souvenier for you. It is the only Zeppelin brought down intact. The crew were all frost bitten and nearly frozen. I have seen President Poincaire, General Joffe, the King of Italy- and of course Pershing and others. I am comfortably billeted (as billets go) and well fed- as are all the men over here. Also I am reasonably safe for the winter. I think often of all of you but cannot write often. You would hardly know me. My hair is clipped short, I wear a steel helmet, carry a gas mask and am generally anything but what I was at home. The worst of it all here is the mud- Mud- MUD- It is awful. It rains all the time and makes things rotten. I brought over my own horse- a beauty- and get much pleasure from him and hope to bring him safely back with me. Wish you could see the camaflouging here. Everything is camaflouged either with trees or paint- wagons, tents, big guns, autos- everything. It is wonderfully picturesque. I send best love to all of you and regards to all of my Jacksonville friends. By the way I have a Jacksonville boy in my outfit- an ambulance man (private) named Cleudennin. He married a Jacksonville girl (but is divorced from her) He is a very fine fellow. You can show the souveneir of the Zeppelin if you wish but do not allow this letter to be published. It might get me in trouble. Best love always Your affectionate Grandson P---- G. C---- Merry Christmas to all of you. Please pass this letter on to Uncle Fred and Grace and then to mother. It is meant for all of you- but not for publication. Love to Mary and Harriet- and of course all of the grown ups of the family including Jenny D----. I would give a lot for one square “feed” of hers now.
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July 15, 2008 11:29 a.m.
Question: Did this relative tend soldiers in the Great Influena epidemic of 1918?
GOLO member since August 7, 2007
July 15, 2008 11:10 a.m.
What a treasure it is for you to have these letters!!!!
GOLO member since March 14, 2008
July 15, 2008 11:09 a.m.
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