Sidney D. Light's WWI Diary, Postcards & Letters, 329th Battery Book Accounts

On September 5th, 1917, the following men of Ward No. 4. Detroit–Charles H. Price, Wilfred A. Gustafson, Nathan I. Balter, Sidney D. Light, Harry T. Dickey, Stanley C. Stacy, Russell W. Lally, Hazen P. Aiken, Montgomery Parsons, Willian N. Coleman, John P. Maher, Charles A. Parker, George N. Mumley, Joseph C. Dierich, and Gordon K. MacEdward–formed at the Trowbridge schoolhouse at 9:00 a.m., boarded the Brush street car to the Detroit Armory, and after a sumptuous repast at Al Smith’s Lunch Room, Cadillac Square, returned to the Armory, where they formed for the parade. The route of the parade was as follows: Bates St. to Jefferson Ave., to Woodward Ave., to Elizabeth St., where cars were boarded for the Michigan Station. It was a gloomy day–almost a counterpart of the sort we were destined to get used to in France–but nothing could dampen the ardor of the send-off given this first little group of Uncle Sam’s "Selects." They were cheered at every corner, handkerchiefs waved, and every now and then some lad would yell, "Go to it, Jack; I’ll be with you soon." They went to it and at the Michigan Station boarded the train for Camp Custer.

The Camp Receiving Station was reached at 4:00 p.m. The first picture of this famous station was a never-to-be-forgotten one. It was still raining. When the boys got a look at the big open place with its numerous little "sheep-pens’ and more officers than had ever been gathered together before, they mentally decided that they could never go through that labyrinth and come out a civilian. They took a deep breath and plunged in. Here they were questioned as to their previous experience, classified, and assigned to Battery "B," 329th Field Artillery. An officer led the way to building No. 399.

There the whole skeleton regiment ate its first army meal, and spent its first night in the service of Uncle Sam. This night before "retiring," as Private Aiken called it, Private Dickey remarked, "Hell, you ain’t in civilian life now, you’re in the army and are just going to HIT THE HAY." (Take it from Private K.P. Onthespot, we never had to forget we were in the army after that–even the bugler took up the refrain.) Of course we remember Private Stacy with his pink pajamas and Private Lally with his home-made nightcap, as he remarked, "I don’t see how I can stand these woolen blankets." While just around our partition, our Saginaw Kid (Sidney D. Light) was arguing with String Bean Dierich as to the proper combination for reducing his six feet of glorious manhood into the confines of a four-foot bed. At the other end of the row of bunks a distinguished looking "buck," whom we learned from his conversation, was Private John J. Maher, the brilliant and prosperous Detroit lawyer. It was his delight to harangue his fellow private and in particular one named Nathan I. Balter, who always appeared to be intensely interested but who it transpired was fast asleep most of the time–except when it came to the matter of shaking hands, when he was awake in both eyes.

Private Gustafson, better known as the QUAKER SWEDE, who afterwards developed into a tar-paper manufacturer "at certain times and places," finally cast aside his pinch-back suit and was about to hit the hay when in blew Private Politician Price with one of his Cinco "Ropes," of which he seemed to have a never {faily} supply. Finally our candles gutted out and darkness reigned supreme–but not for long, as Custer witnessed the worst electrical storm of the season during the next two hours.

After that all went well until reveille, when the boisterous voice of Lieutenant Carnahan (he was then acting "Top Kick") was heard at the top of the stairs saying, "Everybody out for roll call in ten minutes!" This ten minutes was crowded with the frantic efforts of recruits trying to do in the allotted time what usually took them from thirty minutes to an hour. And when a second call was made "asking" us to hurry, the whole mob rushed madly down stairs in all stages of negligee. They thought it was a Mess call but to their sorrow it was a line-up for the then mysterious rite called reveille. Solemn-faced Private Mumley thought that reveille was a religious ceremony and came out with his little Y.M.C.A. testament under his arm. When attention was called, Privates Light and Dierich, not knowing what it meant, continued to discuss the question as to who was to be cook. Private Balter in the rear rank was busily engaged in shaking hands with Private Price in the front rank, as Nate was firmly convinced that such was the passport to the aforesaid Cinco cigars.

After several vain attempts the line was formed and roll was called. No "Here" in response to Private Lally’s name. Whereupon Stacy volunteered the information that they only had one powder puff between the two of them, and "Ten minutes, Sir, didn’t give us both time to use it." Question Sir: Lieutenant Sir (This from Private Dickey): "What time will breakfast be served?" The question was answered with one word. "DISMISSED."

Drill, Drill, Drill, Hike, Hike, Hike, was the order of the day for the time. The camp was more or less picturesque and attracted many visitors. It swept in a huge half moon, through what had once been a rolling cornfield. The streets were wide, dusty tracks, cut with gullies and ditches and ruling off a seeming confusion of buildings–barracks after barracks, looking like factory buildings, long storehouses, officers’ quarters like overgrown box houses, big and little buildings of every conceivable use. The unfinished state of the camp explained why we did not find the place homelike. We had boys there who pined for mother’s home-made biscuits and who held themselves aloof from their fellows. But they were getting just what they needed when they were put in the field and compelled to drill with the other boys.

On September 16th we moved to barracks No. 419, and our officers were assigned to the Battery. They were:

Captain Cecil A. Frazier, 1st Lieutenant Paul M. Bowen, 2nd Lieutenants C. Dale Curtiss, William Shields and V. Downing Dukes and William F. Gregson. For the next two days we were kept busy arranging the barracks for the Sept. 19th draft. We had boys in this first section of sixteen men who were capable of drawing a lead pencil but when it came to drawing a car load of straw and a car load of steel cots, there was quite an argument as to the advisability of hiring a truck. However no one had the nerve to make the suggestion to Lieutenant Curtiss until our pet military college graduate Montgomery T. Parsons volunteered to take the matter up through military channels. Lieutenant Curtiss told him that it would not be advisable, as the matter was not covered by the drill regulations. So a detail was formed and we carried the two car load lots on our backs in true military style.

By Sept 19th the men of the first five per cent considered themselves veterans in the old army game and were all set to receive the "rookies" as they called them. Between the 19th and the 22nd, one hundred and eighteen men were assigned to our battery.

Most of the men who came to camp in the first draft were filled with the "Spirit of ‘76"; a few were filled with spirit of a most ardent nature but more recent date. All of course were dressed in civilian clothes; and what a wonderful picture they presented as they made their entrance into Uncle Sam’s service–men of every shade of political opinion, and every class of society and yet they all met on common ground with the same object in view, and that object the subjection of a common foe. They were all imbued with patriotic fervor, but had a very hazy idea as to who was who and what was what in the army. The burning question of the hour seemed to be, "Must we salute the sergeant or not?" and everyone was afraid to ask him. The difficulty experienced by all rookies was clearly shown by Private Doyle’s experience. He had just discovered that the top-kick is a being of importance in the Battery and had heard him asking if anyone had seen the Colonel. Shortly afterward he heard the Colonel asking for the first sergeant and Private Doyle said "Yes. He’s in the barracks and you had better get a hustle on for he has been looking for you and will give you H---- for keeping him waiting!"

At this time the wash rooms and shower baths were not complete, consequently shaving done in the early morning with cold water, baths taken in a nearby stream where there were six inches of water and twelve of mud, and daily pilgrimages round the barracks policing up scrap lumbar and other building refuse are happenings which always live in the memories of those men whose privilege it was to be at camp in the early days of its history.