xt70p26pzn55 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt70p26pzn55/data/mets.xml Combs, Josiah Henry, 1886-1960. 1923  books b92-217-30936375 English Hurst & Byers Printing Co., Inc., : [Lexington, Ky. : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. United States. Army. Base Hospital No. 40 (England) Seige of Sarisbury court  : which chronicles the feat of Base hospital 40 in winning the world war / by ex-Buck Pvt. Josiah H. Combs. text Seige of Sarisbury court  : which chronicles the feat of Base hospital 40 in winning the world war / by ex-Buck Pvt. Josiah H. Combs. 1923 2002 true xt70p26pzn55 section xt70p26pzn55 
















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      The Seine Of

S Sarisburi Court S

      Which Chronicles the Peat of
         BASE HOSPITAL 40
       Ill Wiiiiiin,8 the World War.







    B3 EX-BUCK PVT. JOSIAH IL COMBS,
  Z     Of B... Hospital 40, A- E. P.   5
       Author of All That's Kentuc.k,, Etc.






    "A duck! d da-k! MM Kindam for a duck!

        am Sse64

 















                  TO

My mother, always my inspiration and en-
couragement. And

                   To

The members of Base Hospital 40, U. S. Army.


















                  (2)

 



















"Wars are hellish business-all
war . . . I was in the midst of
it all-saw war where war was
worst-not on the battlefield, no-
in the hospital, there war is worst;
there I mixed with it, and now say:
God damn the wars-all wars; God
damn every war; God damn 'em;
God damn 'em!"
             -Walt Whitman.

 


                    LISTEN!

   Some folks would elect to call this a PREFACE,
or FOREWORD. Anyway, listen! Once the wife of
a former governor of New Hampshire wrote a book.
This book was proudly advertised as being the first
book ever written by the wife of a former governor
of New Hampshire. A unique distinction, eh Let
some romancer arise to tell the story of the first
book written on the Fourth Dimension by the first
red-headed, cross-eyed nigger who wore the first
rabbit's foot from a rabbit shot by a hump-backed,
red-headed, cross-eyed nigger by the light of the
moon in a country grave-yard. Thus it is that one
thing fetches up another-especially after a fly
has been swallowed. The author of this little volume
may or may not be the first member of Base
Hospital 40 to chronicle a little record in prose and
verse of the doings of that now celebrated outfit. He
Is "putting out" this thing out of respect to his
"comrades-in-arms"-two hundred and fifty of them.
   The storm and stress of those days are gone.
Civilization is saved, saved entirely by the efforts
of the "Eunix." "The devil's In his hell, in the.
Army all's well." I studied out this paraphrase all
by myself, thinking about something Browning said
about God and His heaven. Most of us could have
been put in jail for what we thought of the Army
in those days;   probably we have not even yet
changed some of our opinions. As to myself, I rise
to remark, I suppose I can forget it all-but I just
can't help thinking about it! Not all of our expe-
riences were pleasant. There were dismal, gloomy
days, when some of us felt a sort of "all-overishness,"
akin to fatalism.  You know, our feelings were
closely related to those of a badly defeated candi-

                      (4)

 



date; we were too big to cry, and felt too much hurt
to laugh.
   With few exceptions, in Base Hospital 40, rela-
tions between officers and enlisted men were splen-
did. At the close of the war an English Tommy sent
this terse "order" to a former officer: "Now that
the war is over, I take this opportunity of telling you
to go to hell." The reply was forthcoming: "All
orders relating to troop movements must come
through military channels."
    Yet, all-in-all, that was a jolly outfit-Base Hos-
pital 40. The bon voyage was handed to us long ago
by our Uncle, when he slipped that sixty "bucks"
to us with our discharge-and bade us go forth and
invest, compete, capitalize! Long live the sixty!
long live the "Eunix"!

    NOTE. For the sake of the uninitiated, it is explained
that "Eunix" means nothing more or less than "Units,"
or members of Base Hospital, Unit 40. We are indebted to an
old gentleman in the Bluegrass for this pronunciation, and
for this sobriquet.
                                  -J. H. C.
Hindman, Kentucky

 



CONTENTS



LISTEN!
THE SIEGE OF SARISBURY COURT
WHAT THEY THINK OF HIM
MEDICAL CORPS PRIMER
  LESSON I
  LESSON II
FALL IN!
LET IT LAY!
0. D.
THE OLD ARMY HOBNAIL
AN HONEST SOLDIER
THE NURSE BEHIND THE GUN
THE SOLDIER'S BUNK
CONFINED TO CAMP
COME AND GIT IT!
C. C.
WALKING POST
PASSING THE BUCK
SOME BASE 40 SYLLOGISMS
BALLADE OF Ye GOODE SHIPPE "MARMALADE'
A BUCK'S REPLY TO GEORGE'S LETTER
IN HAMPSHIRE FIELDS
NETLEY ABBEY
CROSSING TO THE BAR
BEVIS OF HAMPTON VS. ASCUPART
'AMBLE OVER THE 'AMBLE
WHY IS A CASUAL
THE MEDICOS WON THE WAR
PAT HARL'S LETTER
" 'BAN, 'BAN, CA-CALIBAN"
HERE THEY ARE!



(6)

 


THE SIEGE OF SARISBURY COURT



  The germ of this memorable conflict had its origin
in the summer of nineteen and seventeen, shortly
after the United States declared war against the
dark forces of Prussian militarism. The idea gradu-
ally synchronised into what became known as Base
Hospital 40, United States Army. Dr. David Barrow,
of Lexington, was the founder and organizer of the
Unit, which usually goes by the name of the Barrow
Unit. Dr. Geo. H. Wilson, Lexington, Dr. Virgil E.
Simpson, Louisville, Dr. W. S. Wyatt, Lexington,
and Dr. Virgil G. Kinnaird, Lancaster, played a
prominent part in the organization and its activities.
This volunteer outfit of two hundred and twenty men
and thirty officers, mostly Kentuckians, went into
intensive and extensive training at Camp Zachary
Taylor, Kentucky, March the first, nineteen eighteen.
Millionaires, lawyers, parsons, clerks, authors, farm-
ers, barbers, students, business men, hoboes, bone
tossers, black-jack and stud poker artists, walking
delegates, individuals with long records and short
bank rolls-all specimens of the omnium gatherum
of the social strata wore the hat cord of the Medical
Corps in this outfit, which was later on to become
the best hospital outfit in the A. E. F.
  After a time the outfit became a bunch of seasoned
veterans. The fellows would sit calmly by and watch
a "bird" "kick off," and take right hold of him
after his demise. Ward 6-B had no more terrors for
them, nor the "Nut ward," "Zip-" of "Ukulele
Ward," or any of the others. The term "duck" was
forever and indelibly stamped in the memory of
every mother's son of us. Back in the early days of
our apprenticeship, in March, a sick "bird" in one of
the wards called for a "duck." One of our sympa-
thetic lads rushed back to the bunk that held the
stricken man, took a look at him, and then went
to one of the nurses:
  ORDERLY- Nurse, one of the men back there
wants a duck. Ain't he too sick to eat duck
NURSE-Why, boy, that's not what he wants.
  Our braves had been sorely tried. We wondered

                       (7)

 


what induced us to leave our happy homes. Fast
in his dreams one night, one Private Gray had bro-
ken forth, "Well, boys, it looks like they're going
to make hospital men out of us, in spite of our-
selves!" The pressure became so hard that a whole
bevy of our lads solemnly appeared before the De-
tachment Commander and asked for a transfer to
some other branch of the service. The "transfer"
came in the shape of heavy K. P. duty for two
weeks. During the last two weeks at Camp Taylor
there had been heavy betting as to when the outfit
would entrain for some port of embarkation. "La-
trine dope" would rapidly mount above par, and as
rapidly drop below par. Early in May, the sixth, a
farewell ball had been given in the Seelbach Hotel
Louisville, by the enlisted men, for the personnel of
the Unit, and friends in the Bluegrass and Louisville.
June the eighteenth the great day came, and the
outfit entrained for Camp Mills, Long Island, reach-
ing that camp the twentieth. All along the way to
New York missives to the good people back home
were dropped from the train. For two weeks here
in Camp Mills we had a full-grown, juicy experience
with Long Island wind and sand. The sand covered
our Uncle's equipment at every inspection, and blew
into our messkits at every meal, in the open, on the
ground. We lived in tents. By this time the dope-
sheet was almost worn to pieces, but was still
functioning. By July the Fourth it became intelli-
gible. That day we packed. Early the following
morning, about one o'clock, "All outside with your
0. D. babies"! rang out along the company street.
Troop movements during those days were shrouded
in mystery and usually took place under cover of
darkness. We hiked to the train, and were ferried
over to Hoboken.
  This same day we were unfortunate enough to em-
bark on "His Majesty's Transport, 'Scotian'," a
British boat; which we later re-christened H. M. S.
"Marmalade." Any member of Base 40 can tell you
why the re-christening took place. As usual, we
were herded together in the steerage. Our beds were
hammocks, or "dream-sacks," fastened to the ceiling
so close together that every time a sleeper moved
he agitated the whole line of dream-sacks. One night

                       (8)

 


a hobnail shoe which had been fastened to the ceiling
suddenly was attracted to the center of gravity,
dropped downward from its moorings, and landed
squarely on the mouth of a sleeper below, on one of
the mess tables. The dentist had an urgent call the
following  morning.  Unfortunately the  sleeper's
mouth was open when the hob fell.
    "Imperious Caesar dead and turned to clay,
    Might close a mouth to keep the hobs away!"

Yes, our quarters were hot, close, stifling, and never
free from a foul stench. At night we were not al-
lowed to open the port-holes on account of enemy
submarines. A hotel keeper would be lynched for
"puttin' out" the grub we lined up against on the
good ship "Scotian." By early morning, July sixth,
we had begun a zig-zag across the Atlantic. There
were from twelve to fifteen boats in our convoy.
A hydroplane, an American cruiser and a few de-
stroyers accompanied us. The second or third day
out, all war craft but the cruiser returned.

  The voyage over, as far as U-boats were concerned,
was uneventful. One of the first things that most of
the outfit learned was that old Neptune's domain
is all that poets have claimed for it-deep, blue,
briny and the rest. Every morning all were chased
up to one of the upper decks, to remain from 7:30
to 11:30. Always we wore life preservers, and went
through boat drill daily. Setting-up exercise, on the
upper deck, was the "prettiest thing in the world
when done right." Of course, our good chaps per-
sisted in saying "upstirs" for "above," and "floor"
for "deck." "Fore" and "aft," "port" and "star-
board" were as Sanscrit to our land birds. One night
the commanding officer of the convoy discovered a
light shining through an open port-hole. After a
signal to our boat, one of our non-coms. came
"downstairs" and blandly announced: "The officer
commanding the fleet reports a port-hole open on the
starboard side of the 'Scotian'. " "Wha' chuh mean
'Starboard' " sang out one of our fine lads. An-
other phenomenon worried our chaps, where do all
these little birds roost, lay eggs and hatch, out there
on the face of the broad expanse

                       (9)

 


  We were zig-zagging right along, and setting our
wrist watches up twenty minutes every day; a sure
sign that we were not on a dry land express. One
day the weather would be fine and bright, the
next, cold, cloudy, misty. Understand, we were
"ploughing the whale-road," but only occasionally
did we touch the old trade route. The fourth day out,
or July ninth, we bolted into a school of whales.
Their baggage was checked for the Arctic clime.
Spouts of water were shooting from their massive
heads high into the air. Some of our fellows thought
they were Hun submarines, and that the spouts
of water were gasoline escaping from below. About
mid-ocean we began to steam to the northward, and
the weather became very cold. But-the very day
the whales crossed our path we had our first real
excitement. "One day we descried some shapeless
object floating at a distance." "A sub!" The gunners
on some of the boats opened fire on it. Our good
ship "Marmalade" shook from the roaring of the
10-inch gun on its aft deck. At the noise and con-
fusion two of our heroes, Prichard and Brackett, on
bunk fatigue down below, piled out of their ham-
mocks and rushed wildly above, crying out, "Just as
I expected, a submarine!" Now we were in for some
adventure. But no, child, our sub. was only a big,
wooden box out there! Some of the glamor of bloody
war had thus vanished from us.
  We still had the plucky American cruiser with us.
One day some of the fellows observed that it was
describing a circle around the fleet. As usual, there
was much conjjecture as to the purpose of its ma-
neuvers. Pvt. Tucker solved the mystery: "Guess
she's checkin' up boys." Pretty soon we reached the
danger zone, the real submarine zone, in British
waters. Right down by the Hebrides Islands we
came, and the west coast of Scotland. For the first
time on board, a talking machine was suddenly un-
earthed. A record was put on, and the first dismal
words we caught were: "I'm sad and lonely, nobody
cares for me." A mighty howl rent the sides of the
"Scotian."
Now we had reached the Firth of Clyde, and
could see the rugged coasts of Caledonia and Erin.
                     (10)

 


Here all the boats but three steamed southward to-
ward Liverpool. Three were towed up the Clyde River
Picturesque Scotland! No wonder Burns and the rest
went into raptures. Old castles on the banks, almost
hidden by trees. Mountains were towering in the
distance. At times we were near enough to the river
banks to greet the Scotch people, and in turn be
greeted by them. They cheered us wildly along
the way. One sandy-haired old Scot yelled out,
"That's the stuff that'll git 'em!" We saw bonnie
Scotch lassies dancing the Highland fling along the
banks. All this was kept up for about twenty miles,
till we reached Glasgow, the second largest city
in the British Isles. Our transports put in at
Glasgow late in the afternoon of July seventeenth.
We stayed on board that night. Of course, our
officers were very anxious that we debark and "take
in" Glasgow, but no, we decided to remain on board!
  At this point we had out first "casualty." "Dock"
Wiley got sick, and was sent to a hospital in Glasgow.
The following day, July eighteenth, we debarked,
and lined up at the pier. Here each of us was
presented with a letter from His Britannic Majesty,
George V, King of Great Britain and Ireland, and
Emperor of India. Here is the message George
sent to us by his legates:-

A MESSAGE TO YOU FROM HIS MAJESTY KING
       GEORGE VTH., WINDSOR CASTLE.

   Soldiers of the United States, the people of
 the British Isles welcome you on your way to
 take your stand beside the Armies of many
 Nations now fighting in the Old World the
 great battle for human freedom.
   The Allies will gain new heart & spirit in
 your company. I wish that I could shake the
 hand of each one of you & bid you God speed
 on your mission.
                            George R. I.
 April 1918.
                     (11)

 


  Later an English Tommy explained to some of our
inquisitive chaps that "R. I." (Rex Imperator) meant
"Royal 'Ighness."
  George is a regular fellow, and had not forgotten
us! Some of the fellows began to compare their let-
ters, to see if they were all alike. One observant
chap quickly discovered that George had forgotten
to address the envelope to him! And some of the
fellows were "rawther" ungrateful, "don't you know,"
for they forgot to answer this letter from His Bri-
tannic Majesty.
  Soon we were hurried into a troop train. We were
crowded into tight little compartments or "carriages,"
not "coaches,"  for "huit chevaux ou quarante
hommes," and were bounding southward through the
"tight little Isle." For France We shall see. Just
over the Scotch-English border, at Carlisle, England,
we were served hot coffee by the English Red Cross.
Here a ripple of laughter broke out, when an English-
man walked up and asked us if we were snake
charmers! So much for the Caduceus insignia on our
blouse collars!
  About July nineteenth, the outfit found itself on
bunk-fatigue at a place which Army authorities po-
litely designate as "rest" camp, at Southampton,
England. (Probably "rest," because it was surcease
from the stale codfish, cheese and marmalade com-
mon to the "Scotian"). At this place a sharp con
flict, lasting five days, took place. After a fierce
charge the doughty Kentuckians, led by Col. Leonard
Hughes, took all objectives-including English rain,
floors for bunks, boiled spuds, mutton, cheese, Eng-
lish ale, English tobacco; and were paid off in pound;.s.d.,
including such things are "tup-pence," "threp-pence,"
"ha-penny," and "three ha-pence." The "tanner,"
"bob," "quid" and "wrapper" were yet beyond us.
This engagement offered our brave iaols the flrst
opportunity to give the gas mask the "once over," in
action, against the deadly fumes of English smoking
tobacco.
  We suffered some casualties, Sgt. Graves was hit
IN THE BACK by a stray bullet, while gallantly
urging the men to fall back. Good strategy, Sergeant,
                      (12)

 


good strategy: Advance by retreating, retreat by
advancing!! Pvt. Rush, heavily gassed; Pvt. Jack
Rogers, foundered on mutton and   cheese; Cpl.
Leedy's helmet badly battered by boiled spuds; Sgt.
Foushee overcome by the English damsels; Pvt.
Jo Kuhn laughed himself to death from laughing
gas, and Pvt. Fahey was found exhausted in a barrel
of ale. We also suffered heavy casualties at the
"pubs" and canteens.

  The day of July twenty-third broke with heavy
rains,-not unlike the conditions incident to the Bat-
tle of Waterloo. The previous night our lads ate
little and slept but lightly. All hope of going across
the Channel had vanished, like a ray of sunshine
in England. The "zero hour" on a new front was
fast approaching. But none of us knew what part
of the English front we were going to attack. We
only knew that we had reached that part of France
known as England. Suddenly, precisely at 1:30 p.
m., "Fall in with your packs!" rang out along the
entire company street. The "big push" had begun!
Across the Channel No. "Squads rfght, march!"
Straight through Southampton and beyond the pier,
and, at the city limits, a bridge. All hope of seeing
France gone! Beyond this bridge lies-a part of
rustic England. In the Army, during the stress of
war the officers get chummy with the enlisted men,
tell them where they are going, when they are to
leave, and when they are to reach their objectives.
"Soldiers! beyond you lie Sarisbury Green and
Sarisbury Court! 'In Hampshire fields the lassies
grow, and spot the Sammies row on row!' Up, my
braves, and at 'em!" One long look across that
bridge, ladies and gentlemen, and, "Forward, march!"
-into rural England. The Siege was truly in its in-
cipiency-and heightened by an Incompetent non-
com. and an officer, who showed remarkable facility
at not knowing how to hike men heavily laden
with impedimenta, on a hot day. The two aforesaid
men boldly strode forth without packs.
  Go back with me, if you will, to the months of
March, April and May of 1918, in Camp Zachary
Taylor, Kentucky; where our chaps were engaged
in a desperate struggle-chasing "quack-quacks" and

                      (13)

 


rattling "gunboats"; where many flagged the "gravy
train" and bore down upon it, or else "swung lead"
till they swore by the white knees of the Graces that
the war could have been better won if C.C's had
never been heard of; where the old "gim-wagon" was
ridden to pieces. Back, I say, to the days when we
"bucked the mess line" for real, honest-to-Goodness
chow; when some "buck's" messkit habitually rolled
on the ground and fell to pieces, ana "Let it lay!"
rang out from the whole outfit; when, in formation,
that "sergeant of the soldierly bearing" was wont to
thunder forth, "Up with that dress! You know how
to do that as well as I do! It's the prettiest thing in
the world when done right!" Think, if you will, of
the countless "dead soldiers" hidden away in the
great stovepipes after a "fine large night." Farewell,
a long farewell-
  Now, on this warm July afternoon Uncle Sam's
.obnails were crushing the pebbles on an English
country roadside. Nobody got warm. "One should
not get 'ot when one has only one's pack, overcoat,
slicker, and blouse-on-buttoned-up to worry with."
Onward and forward our braves go. We hike right
up one hill after another, and down again, on the
other side. The action grows warmer and warmer.
We have no reserves or replacement troops imme-
diately behind us. The 'eavy 'obs become 'eavier still.
For,
"It ain't the bunk-fatigue that 'urts the Sammies' feet.
But hits' the 'eavy, 'eavy 'ikin' on the 'ard 'ighway."
  After we advance about seven or eight kilometers,
we again suffer some casualties. Packs, 'ot sun, 'eavy
'ikin', it overcomes a few of our braves. Orders are
becoming confused. Instead of attacking with "coffee-
grinders" and rifles, as directed, some of our men
rush forward with "submarines" and "gunboats."
For hand grenades they are throwing rolls of ad-
hesive tape and bandages. Pvt. George Haddad saves
the situation by emerging from the masses and hurl-
ing forward several bundles of valerate of am-
monium.
  We continue to advance. We go forward for about
a kilometer and are held up. One thing buoys up our
                      (14)

 


tired spirits. At the end of each pause, "Le's go! "
rings out from every throat. Privates Mongeon and
Sarvene are loudest in the clamors to advance. A
squad is left behind to take care of the casualties.
  At Bursledon Bridge our warriors are weary and
footsore. They are near to exhaustion. We have
advanced till the Court is partly in view. There
it lies, half hidden by the thick foliage of the trees
around the Manor house, a familiar flag flying
from the flagpole. We pitch forward again. A tem-
porary pause holds us up at the village green. On
ye braves! Another kilometer, and we sweep down
on the Court! But ....

            THE SIEGE CONTINUES

  Sarisbury Court was the property of the American
Red Cross. It is located on the Hamble River,
overlooking Southampton Water and the Isle of
Wight. Was it by "council of the immortal gods"
that a bloody siege be enacted amid these peaceful
Surroundings   Within sight of the spot where
Tennyson said,
    "Sunset and evening star,
      And one clear call for me;
    And may there be no moaning of the bar
      When I put out to sea."
"I saw thee, Netley," of the Ingoldsby Legends, only
two miles from the Court, and now in ruins; once
the haunt of Cistercian monks. Four miles from the
ruins of Titchfield Abbey, now known as Place
House, where Charles I made his escape, and where
Shakspere and other celebrities drank ale and
feasted. But these surroundings have not always
been peaceful. Only a few hundred yards away,
down on the Hamble, Alfred the Great met and de-
feated the Norsemen on their own element, the
water, in the ninth century. Around these haunts
Briton once clashed with Roman; Viking and Saxon
with Briton; Briton with Scot and Pict; Norman
with Englishman; and many other conflicts, legend-
ary and semi-historical, knights, cavaliers and
"roundheads."  The place-names of this county,
Hampshire, or Hants, shows its occupation, in suc-

                     (15)

 


cession, by Celt or early Briton, Roman, Norseman,
Saxon and Norman. Hants was a gateway into
England by early invaders. Yes, and the Germans
pursued the phantom of a false hope when they
incorporated in their wild scheme of world-conquest,
plans to capture the Isle of Wight, and from that
vantage point to bombard Southampton and Ports-
mouth.
  The haunts of Hants! Amid these legendary and
historical surroundings one feels one's self myste-
riously communing with the long-departed manes of
mighty men of trie past. This history of Hampshire
was for a long time almost the history of England.
Old Winchester was the capital. Here Arthur and
"Hys Knyghtes XXIV" feasted and held council
around the famous "Rownde Table." Here Guy of
Warwick vanquished the Danish giant Colbrand, on
Denmark Mead, a few paces from King Alfred's
Place. Here Alfred the Great lived, the greatest of
all of England's monarchs, and who contributed his
share to the Saxon Chronicle. Here William the
Conqueror was crowned, lived, and had his castle,
now known as Winchester Castle. Here the Domes-
day Book was compiled, in Wolvesey Castle. Here
Jane Austen lived, and old Izaac Walton angled in
the Itchen River. Sir Isaac Newton lived near
Winchester, so did Florence Nightingale. But it
were a long and difficult task to chronicle all the
Hampshire worthies. In pasing, one could also men-
tion Charles Dickens, born in Portsmouth; another
Chas., Charlie Chaplin, born in the same town.
Southampton lays claim to Dr. Isaac Watts, famous
hymn writer, who outdid himself when he wrote:
    "Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
    For God has made them so! "
Which classic couplet perhaps prompted him to
implore, as he was bent over his stern old father's
knee:
    "Oh, father, pity on me take,
    And I will no more verses make!"
It was from Southampton that the "Mayflower" and
the "Speedwell" departed with the Pilgrims, be-
cause the immigration laws of North America at
                      (16)

 


that time were anything but satisfactory. In spite
of this the good people of Southampton have allowed
a monument to be erected down at the old pier, in
memory of the stern old fathers.
   It was in this same shire that Mr. C. J. Caesar's
 legions contended with the Iceni and the Atrebates,
 Belgic tribes of south Britian. From the Iceni we
 have the Itchen River. Pilgrims on their way to
 Canterbury stopped to worship in Winchester Cathe-
 dral. In this famous old Cathedral now rest the
 bones of the Danish and Saxon kings of England,
 including those of Canute the Dane, who rebuked
 his courtiers on the coast at Southampton, when
 they presumed to clothe him with the "divine right
 of kings."
 We have been digressing a little, for the purpose
 of giving you a sort of detailed background for the
 Siege. What we are trying to say is that history
 has been made around Sarisbury Court. We are
 going to add that Base 40 had swooped down on
 this place to add a little "pep" and spice to this
 long chain of legend and history. Not all the chaps
 of the outfit were conversant with the aforesaid his-
 tory and legend, and cared less. For, are not Mother
 Bush's, The Bold Forester, The Red Lion, The Ris
 ing Sun, Warsash, Swanwick, Bursledon and Hamble
 almost within hailing distance of the manor house
 and the camp And was not the plaintive wail of the
 "whippumpoof" bird at night solace enough for the
 fellows as they "rolled the bones" on the 0. D.
 blanket Besides, the patter of the cold, English
 rain on their heads and above their heads served
 to make them forget what Hampshire history they
 may have known.
 Let the Siege continue. Henceforth it divides
 itself into two stages, the tent stage and the barrack
 stage. After the grill of the "Scotian," the mem-
 orable run from Glasgow to Southampton, and the
 boiled potato, "rest" camp escapade from the latter
 place, the fellows had had time to learn to steer to
 the left on the highways, and to say "Shoot a
 shilling!" "A florin he comes!" "Two bob he don't!"
 etc. Now it was tents and decent mattresses, as far
as these things go in the Army.

                      (17)

 


  The very next day after reaching   the Court,
throngs of our chaps found their way out to Swan-
wick, and to Mr. Welch's Cycle Works, about two
miles from Camp. The County is famous for numer-
ous and good roads. And so, almost before our lads
had had time to relieve themselves of the foul
stench of "Scotian" codfish and cheese, they were
after bicycles. But the Englishman, Mr. Welch,
didn't "rumble" them when they called for "wheels."
He thought they wanted separate wheels, to repair
their own bikes! We understood English pretty
well, but spoke American.
  During these days the fellows responded nobly
to at least three bugle calls; pay call, recall from
fatigue, and chow call, which brought them out to
buck the mess line for their mutton, cheese, boiled
spuds and English jam.
  Early in August "one of our Uncles" "put a horse
on us." It appeared that the old, broad-brimmed,
or campaign hat was not in good favor overseas. It
is the only serviceable hat ever adopted by our
Army. On this occassion the overseas "go-to-hell"
hat took its place. It must have been about this
time, also, that our first mail from America reached
the Camp. The previous night one of our lads had
heard a boat whistle down on the Hamble. Ever
afterward, as surely as a steam whistle of any kind
was heard, either on the Hamble or on Southampton
Water, a chorus of voices tore loose, "More mail!
Bet it's the 'Olympic'! "
  Truly these were the halcyon days for Base 40.
However, so far, Sarisbury Court was only a camp.
It was to be transformed into a hospital. Somebody
across the Channel was getting hurt, every day. We
were in the midst of an almost primeval forest.
Anybody could have looked around and seen that
there wes "much work to be done." Wheelbarrows,
shovels, spades, picks, axes, were stacked up every-
where. It was not long before all of us could use
them like veterans; in fact, so well that some camp
wit renamed the outfit the "Wheel-Barrow Unit."
Various details for fatigue sprang up overnight,
as rapidly as the growth of a "mushroom" city in
Oklahoma. By this time every man in the outfit now
                      (18)

 


realized for the first time his Uncle's foresight, when
that little Dennim hat and fatigue suit were thrown
at him back in Camp Taylor, in his "gum-and-
sheepskin days" as a raw recruit. The gravel pit;
the ditch-and-swamp detail; the concrete detail;
the wood detail, and about twenty-four "hard-boiled
guards" to keep the peace while the others worked
and slept.
  At this time but few of the medical officers and
nurses were at the Court. They were on duty at
various camps and hospitals, in England and in
France. Late in August the assault on Paignton,
over in Devonshire, became so furious that a de-
tachment of our brave lads was hurried to that
point as replacements. Thus was the original per-
sonnel beginning to suffer further casualties. Our
doughty chaps at the Court continued to struggle
manfully, "puttin' out" as little as they possibly
could. Their activities soon reached out beyond the
confines of the estate. They could spot every "pub"
within a radius of fifteen kilometers, and were fast
friends of all the Hampshire damsels. Not a man
of us but that could find his way, blindfolded, back
to camp, through twenty-seven different paths other
than by Post 1. Southampton, Portsmouth and the
Isle of Wight, they fit us like an old shoe.
  Late in September other points became hard
pressed. A detachment was rushed to Winchester,
where the Battle of Morn Hill was raging. A sortie
against Hursley Park, near Winchester, caused a
detachment to be hurried to that point. Portsmouth
was near capitulation, and we nobly responded
to its Macedonian call. From over the Channel, in
France, came the S. 0. S. call, and a squad of our
indomitable lads hastened forth. Thus was our orig-
inal list of effectives cut to half a company.
  Listen, if you will, bend down thine ear that I
may pour more words of information therein, and
tell you of a thing that happened about this time,
late in September-a thing that hit the spirit of our
fine lads like a charge of TNT. The big wards had
been completed-and patients began to fill them!
It was a brusque awakening, more ward work! More
long lines of patients' bunks, nurses innumerable,
                      (19)

 


medicos, laundry details, coke details, and the long-
forgotten clank of "whiz-bangs" and "gunboats."
"Orderly, bring me a ...."   "Make it two!"
  The Siege was now at its height again. Bunk
fatigue was no more, except for a few non-coms.
Some of the chaps almost forgot how to "roll the
bones," and some forgot how to make their way
surreptitiously out of camp around Post No. 1. The
K. P's. slept with a mop and a dishrag under their
heads. None but the "guards," the