FRIENDS ALONG THE WAY.
All along the road the trains were met by Y. M. C. A. and Red Cross canteen workers. At
these stops the men made many friends and increased their correspondence rosters. Especially
will the first section remember Paducah, Kentucky, with its pretty girls. The second train had a
narrow escape from serious accident at Belfontaine, Ohio, when a switch engine knocked a car
occupied by members of the Supply Company off the track, but the hardy ‘Mule Skinners’
jumped from every window and none were injured. When the claim officials of the railroad
appeared, however, a few of the men played the ‘possum game’ and swooned away, in order to
collect twenty-five dollars.
CAMP MILLS.
On the night of June 13th, as the train ran along the Ohio River, Private Mixwater of
Battery “D” was on guard on one of the platforms. He declined to be relieved, as the ‘heap big
creek all lit up’ was too interesting to leave for slumber. On June 16th, the trains pulled into the
terminal at Weehawken, New York. We were ferried across the harbor; many of the men seeing
for the first time the New-York skyline and the Statute of Liberty. We were landed on Long
Island and taken by cars to Camp Mills. Here the process was one of drawing the equipment of
the regiment and receiving and equipping five hundred recruits from Purdue University and the
Aviation Fields of the middle west.
CONEY ISLAND.
During the stay at Camp Mills most of the men were able to see New York and the shows
along Broadway, and, of course, everybody made Coney Island several times during the stay.
On June 29th, the units of the regiment boarded cars at Camp Mills and the next morning found
them on the docks at Boston.
THE GOOD SHIP “RUNIC”.
In short order we were marched up the gang-plank of “The Good Ship Runic”. Each
person with his little card showing his hammock number in the decks below. The lighters swung
the freight and baggage on board with the assistance of Batteries “A” and “F” who brought a
large portion of the barrack bags on board by hand. By night, on June 30th, we were swinging
out of Boston Harbor on our way at last. Without convoy we coasted up to Halifax.
SUBMARINES.
In the wee small hours of the morning of July 3rd, the Captain of the boat called for
Captain McAlpin, then regimental adjutant, and informed him that we were in the midst of a nest
of ‘bloody, blooming pepper boxes’. It took the adjutant some time to comprehend just what the
English Captain was speaking of. But after he was informed that a boat had been sunk just a few
kilometers from where we were, and that a submarine had just chased another boat aground on a
rock, it was very clear to him. After that we hugged the shore closely. There was a heavy fog
overhead and the whistle of the Runic shrieked constantly. There was a tenseness pervading all
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