| | PVT. WILLBERT PATTERSON
Serial No. 2,017,606
469 St. Joseph Ave., Detroit, Mich.
Patterson was assigned to the Battery along with seventy other soldiers who had been taken away from the 310th Ammunition Train, located at Guer, five miles from Coetquidan, to bring our Battery up to full tables of strength.
Like many people who are short of stature, Patterson was full of humor, a kind that was contagious, which made him well liked by his comrades. His presence had a stimulating and cheering effect on all around him, as he kept something doing all the time. When serving mess he would “hark his wares,” so to speak. “This way for soup from the bowels of the earth,” and other absurdities. The boys will remember with amusement his terms on the kitchen police force.
He was sturdy and strong, willing at all times and would by nature make a good soldier. On account of his physical fitness he was assigned to the post of cannoneer, and took part in all the active service in which the Battery was engaged.
We will let him tell, in his own words, of escapades and impressions from Camp Mills to France and back again:
“Having been asked to state a few of my experiences in the U. S. Army, I will start from the time that our outfit hit Camp Mills, N. Y. After arriving there, I went A. W. O. L. I suppose you have all read enough of the army to know what that means. I went to that wonderful City of New York. My third day there, having never been in such a large body of water as the ocean, I thought I would go in bathing. As you know, at Coney Island, nearly all the beaches have bars connected with them. Well, I went up to the counter after a bathing suit, and the young man looked at me and smiled. He said: ‘I am sorry, young fellow, but as you have a U. S. uniform on, I will have to give you a suit with the U. S. stamped on it.’ Well, I will say here I was very much surprised, for they tag you up there like they do the cattle in a Chicago stock yard. This is so you can not get anything to drink at the bar. I took the suit and went to my dressing room. There was a fellow that had just come out of the water. He took off his bathing suit and threw it out in front of his door. I was peeking through the keyhole and as soon as he threw it out I traded with him. Do you see I got what I wanted at the bar, and that is one time a Michigan Yankee got the best of those wise New York boys.
“I went back to the camp and right away I was hailed before the Judge. Of course, in the army they don’t call them a judge, they call them everything, but that is what I called the Major, a Judge, for be judged that my bank roll was thick and he taxed me $30 for my trip to Old New York, but my trip was worth more than $30.
“Then we started on our journey of dodging submarines. That is where we first got acquainted with that famous U. S. meat, ‘bull beef.’ The mess sergeant’s name was Belle Back, and he gave us so much of that accursed stuff that the boys all call him Bully Beef Belle Back-Battery B.
“After getting off of the train we started for the front. We went into position four nights later. They put us in dug-outs and that is where we met that famous world bug—the cootie. The second night up at our guns some of us were put on guard. The lieutenant was holding a guard-mount. It was so dark one could not see over two feet from him. He was inspecting our pistols but I don’t know bow in the world be could tell if they were clean or dirty. He was telling us that we were on enemy soil. Of course, we knew that without hum telling us. He told us that if anyone did not halt when we told them to, to shoot them. But a corporal by the name of Smiley spoke up and asked him how we were going to shoot anybody without any ammunition. The lieutenant started in to tell us where we could get some shells for our pistols, but he didn’t tell us where, for just as he started to explain, Fritz sent over a big boy and the lieutenant said he thought it was time for us to go to supper. I really cannot say whether that shell that Fritz sent over gave the lieutenant an appetite or not, but he was awful anxious to go to supper. And speaking of those shells that they send over, well, they surely do make the noise. One night we were in a small shack and one dropped near our shack and one of the boys jumped right through a window to get out of its way. Well, there was lots of fun until the 11th of November; you all know that day. We turned in all of our horses and everything went fine for two months. All we were doing was waiting for the boat to come to take us back to the United States. But as you know, our outfit had to have more horses to pass the time away, and they got more horses, and, ye gods, plenty of mules. And boys, talk about a clothes—cleaning store, well, you should watch the boys clean those critters. The first time we started to clean them horses, they told us to stand at heel and one of the boys wanted to know if they were running a shoe store. I will say that the Field Artillery officers think a lot of them mules, a lot more than the men do, and I think when we board that ship for the U. S. they will give us all a mule to wear for a watch charm when we get back in that long pair of pants.”
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