Miss Heath Tells of
Crossing From New York to England
Miss Lura Heath, daughter of Capt and Mrs. W.C. Heath, has
arrived safely in England had has written to her parents telling of her
experiences while crossing the Atlantic. Miss Heath’s letters will be somewhat
in the form of a diary. Union County has three girls in France, who besides
Miss Heath are Miss Pauline Robinson, the daughter of Mrs. R.N. Nisbet, a
trained nurse with the Brenizer unit, and Miss Annie Lee, the daughter of Mr.
J.H. Lee.
Misses Heath and Lee are in the same service, canteen
workers in the Y.M.C.A. huts, or usually referred to as the “Triangle Girls.”
They were especially trained for this service at Y.M.C.A. headquarters in New
York city for two months prior to sailing. We quote Miss Heath’s letter in
full:
On the Irish Sea, Somewhere between Ireland and Scotland,
Saturday, November 23rd, 1918.
Dear Folks at home: I believe that the last letter I sent to
you was written in the wee small hours of the morning of Nov. 13th,
just prior to my leaving the U.S.A., of which you were aware, due to the
telegram that I had sent. At the time that I was writing I was not at all sure
that I would get away on this boat, for at 6 o’clock Tuesday afternoon my
passport was out of place. After having waited about two hours at the British
Consulate office, I was advised that my passport had been sent up to the men’s
Y.M.C.A. headquarters, but they stated it was not there. In spite of all that I
was told to pack and be all ready and report at the Women’s Department at 9
o’clock sharp on Wednesday. Obedient soldier that I was, I obeyed orders and
when I arrived my passport was thee. I didn’t even stop to ask where it was or
anything, for I had to have a requisition for French and English money, go over
and wait to get it, then go way down to the Custom House on Bowling Green for a
war zone pass, without which I could not sail—then back to the piers. I should
have gotten a French Visa, but didn’t have time, so I will get that in England.
All the others were supposed to be aboard at 10, but by special permit, I could
board as late as 11, and I just did make it. You may rest assured that I made every
effort as Annie and I were so anxious to be together as long as possible and
even hope to be assigned to the same work in France.
The steamer that we are on, ‘Orontez,’ is an English boat
and formerly plied between Liverpool and Australia and utilized during the war
as a transport and recently has made two trips to New York for American troops.
This ship is not very large and quite changed naturally, being used as a troop
ship—no deck chairs, no lights, port holes closed and they seem to be taking
all precautions. Soldiers were supposed to be coming in this trip, but after
real peace came, the order was cancelled and the party on board consists of 25
Y.M. women, eight of whom will stay in England; 46 Y.M.C.A. secretaries; 24
knights of Columbus men; 2 Red Cross men and about a dozen and a half British
officers, members of the British Mission to America, who have been in the
“States” as they say, from three months, some of them, to a year or more,
having been located in our various camps as instructors. Besides this, there
are about 70 British sergeants and members of the Royal Flying Corps over in
the second cabin. So you see, the boat being small and a few aboard, the trip
has in a way been like a big house party.
Quite a number were sick at first, I included, for we have
had rough weather most of the time—grey drizzly days, but later most of the
passengers gained their sea legs. On account of there being a comparatively
small crowd, we all became better acquainted and in consequence it has been a
pleasant voyage. We have had good “eats,” the shop officers are quite courteous
and now that the trip to England is about over, I am glad, so glad to be
getting nearer our long waited destination, and yet, there is always a feeling
of regret when a crowd of people break up for their respective duties and
pleasures.
We all had an idea that we would likely come over in peace
times, but we were ushered out of New York harbor by balloon and airplanes and
have been convoyed all the way over. U.S. sub-chasers came out with us about
two days and during that time we were required to keep life belts with us at
all times; indeed we were happy to have them, as they serve as a cushion to sit
on.
In the convoy there are nine boats; one U.S. cruiser which
went back yesterday; several large and small transports, all together bringing
over about 25,000 soldiers. In addition, there were one or two chasers. Some
time during last night, four or five English sub-chasers joined us and they
have been guarding us quite closely today—afraid of mines and torpedoes still I
suppose. So you can see that even though peace has been declared, in a way, we
didn’t miss all the thrills of crossing the Atlantic as during war time.
We expected to get in today and get to London for tomorrow,
but now we won’t get in until some time in the night and it will depend on
military authorities as to our getting off the boat before Monday.
We have slept late in the mornings, taken naps after lunch,
then tea at 4:30, then after dinner, many evenings in the music room, we have
had entertainment of some kind. Among the Y.M. women, the K. of C. man, who has
been a concert singer and has a beautiful voice, several men readers, one Y.M.
woman reader, a pianist and a violinist, the latter two sisters; then among the
Britishers there is talent—ne officer, who is a professional singer, two in
fact, and several of them play the piano quite well. One girl plays the
Eukelele, one the mandolin and you can well imagine that all this together with
singing of popular and folk songs has been a great asset and helped every one
to while away the evenings most pleasantly.
Two evenings all of us when over to the second cabin with
the soldiers and there was some fine talent discovered—among them were readers,
impersonators, singers and pianists; among them too are some Oxford graduates
one of whom recited many of Kipling’s poems beautifully. In talking with them
you soon discover that they evidently like America very much and many of them
have already determined to go back to America just as soon as possible. It
seems too that that many of the officers feel the same way, in fact, a few have
married American girls while in the U.S.A. It has been very interesting to be
with these officers—many of them are quite young seemingly, and others
distinguished in appearance. Many of them have been wounded, and to hear of the
battle of the Marne, Mons, etc., from those who have actually been on the front
is a treat. A number of them related their personal experiences. One captain
who had many wounds, with 18 others, was in an explosion. All were killed
except himself. He is now in a terribly shell shocked condition and in all
probability will never be any better. The colonel in command of the mission has
a crushed leg from an airplane accident. The captain, who was a professional
singer, told these interesting facts.
I have ascertained that there were only 750,000 American
troops actually in the fighting line and that our casualties would not have
been so high but for the fact that Americans were rash and impetuous in their
overwhelming bravery. He said the last weeks of fighting were very hard and
severe, England alone losing 30,000 a week, and that since last June her
casualties had been 900,000. He spoke of having seen two English prisoners,
their chests, stomachs and backs literally covered with dog bites. It seems that
they were driven to labor, when wounded or well, but those German prison dogs.
One old gentlemanly major with whom Annie and I have talked
quite often, is most charming and of such splendid spirit, though all of them
possess that, has given us his address and insists that we come to Cambridge to
see him and his family before we go back to America. He and others were in the
Texas, Georgia and South Carolina camps. All of these officers are a fine
representation of England.
Sunday, Nov. 24 (morning)—Just here I went down to dinner,
with intentions of spending my evening hours finishing my chat with you, but we
had another evening of entertainment. Wish so much that you could have shared
the pleasures. It was wonderful to see how happy these Englishmen were. They
entered into the pleasures with bubbling spirit, all of them who could did
their bit—at the close, “Star Spangled Banner,” “God Save the King,” then “Auld
Lang Syne.” It was 11:45 when the concert was over, then all went on deck,
spied the signal lights of “Old England,” then had another spirited and
hilarious demonstration of feeling.
The moon and stars were shining brightly, something unusual
here at this season of the year, so you can imagine that none retired very
early. When we went in we were anchored, waiting for a pilot and some time in the
night we got in near Liverpool, but fog was so dense we came back out and now
are anchored at the mouth of a river and will go in some time this afternoon.
We came the Northern route, up around Ireland, then down past the Isle of Man.
It is quite clear this morning and with the sea birds flying all about and
sailing vessels dotted here and there, altogether make up a pretty picture.
Every one seems happy over the prospects of landing. We do not know whether we
will get out of Liverpool today or not.
Last Sunday morning the Y.M. held a service in the music
room and another just after breakfast this morning, but many of us were
packing. At present most every one are having a stroll on deck. I have had the
surprise of my life in that it hasn’t been cold enough even on the ocean for me
to wear woolen underwear, but realize that this will come in all right when we
strike the chilling cold of France. The pilot brought some newspapers aboard
and you may know they were received with joy, for nearly two weeks we have had
no news except small wireless notice. We do know that the allied troops are now
occupying German territory, that the Kaiser has fled and that the German navy
has surrendered, also that Germany is begging to be fed and that American camps
are being demobilized, so you see that we are not entirely out of civilization.
I am now beginning to realize that the very best Christmas
present I can have from home will be some letters. I hope all of you have been
starting some on the way during these past two weeks. I have no idea how long
we will be in England, perhaps a week or longer, although I am anxious to get
into France and assume my duties as soon as possible. It is my intention to
send some messages to all of the boys form Union county, whose addresses I
have, as soon as I reach Paris, so if by any chance they should be there or
near we would not miss an opportunity to meet them.
I know that I am not going to have time to keep a diary so
have decided to write some each day, then forward home once or twice each week,
but I want you to keep the letters intact as I will want them on my return some
day as reminders of my experiences.
Sunday night, 12:15—Just here I was called to get my baggage
ready, so had to lock up my pad—this was about 12 o’clock but we really didn’t
get off the boat until 5—had lunch and then the custom officers came aboard,
then a showing of passports, etc.—just prior to coming ashore, representatives
of the Y.M.C.A. met us, both men and women—we were escorted to the Adelphi
Hotel and expect to go to London tomorrow at 2 o’clock.
As we have been told nothing as to censorship, I have
written as I would ordinarily, so don’t know whether anything I have stated
will be cut out or not—haven’t meant any harm, certainly.
Annie and I have both had hot baths, laundered, talked over
things in general, and now hope to have a good quiet rest with no tossing or
rolling.
Will continue later.
With much love and
best wishes for all,
Lura
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