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The Mongolia, American Steamship
- Texas A&M University Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
Tuesday, May 27 W e had another rigorous inspection after breakfast, as if to keep us from entertaining bad thoughts. We readied our knapsacks and the rest of the things we will take on our return trip. The overwhelming noise, the pleasure that abounds in us, and the need to have everything ready are killing us and filling us with a sense of desperation. The heat is unbearable. All of us sweat heavily and seek out the little shade the barracks offer, not unlike the sheep from West Texas in search of the few trees of the region. It is already ten in the morning and the ship has yet to arrive, but we are ready. We would really appreciate it if our bugle were to sound its call an hour early. We would never respond more gladly. This does not mean we would not also obey the call if we were facing death. Anyone can see the difference between discharging a military duty and the joy that comes from finally returning home with the laurels earned for meeting this same responsibility. I had a pleasant dream last night. I was already in my father’s home. He was asking that I tell him about my adventures. I was about to do this when I questioned the thought and woke up. We fell into formation around four and marched to the dock where our anchored ship was waiting to take us home. It felt like we were moving at a snail’s pace even though we were marching as fast as possible. We could see the wonderful name on the American transport, the Mongolia. It was smaller than the Olympic. The movement was slow because so many soldiers were waiting to board. Large numbers of soldiers gathered along the wharf as more continued to arrive. We will always remember this. The dark columns turned into one solid mass of men, each carrying packages on their shoulders and articles in their hands plus an untold number of souvenirs hanging from their knapsacks. Thousands of eyes that brightened with profound happiness stood The Mongolia, American Steamship 444 445 The MONGOLIA out in the dark mass. Joy was not just a dream anymore. We could sense it and gave ourselves to it. I thought our turn would never come, then the boarding started. The other soldiers probably felt the same way as they rested in somber silence. Most of them smoked to pass the time. The moment finally arrived when our company began walking across the ship’s narrow bridge. This was also a slow process, only two men could board at a time. The ship’s officers and some of the lazy sailors were indifferent toward the great army that had saved the imperiled nation and now returned with the wounds and dust of trench warfare, but we were happy with our victory. When the supreme moment arrived, my heavy boots made the bridge crackle and squeak. I was reminded of Texas cattle being loaded on railroad cars. We were really no different in the crude way we boarded. Troops continued boarding at night. These men were left over from the armed conflict and were now survivors in peacetime. The company from the 360th Infantry’s General Headquarters was already situated on the second level of the Mongolia by six in the afternoon. The sun was setting and darkness was beginning to envelop the port of Saint-Nazaire. We will be doubled up and suspended in the familiar hammocks. Wednesday, May 28 The boarding lasted until sometime in the evening. The ship made use of the tide and started pulling away at one in the morning. We were not able to see the landscape we were leaving behind. Everything stayed in the shadows much like the past, which will soon be forgotten, perhaps forever. I could no longer see France when I got up at six. France, the name that had served as our rallying cry in democracy’s great crusade! We could only see a tiny island to the north. I was seasick all day, as were many of the soldiers. The sea received us with furious waves and suffocating heat. The navy’s band, along with the band of the 360th, gave a nice concert. I stayed on the upper deck after midday and contemplated the sea. I saw many of the same soldiers who had crossed the ocean with me several months ago. A good many of the ones...