# Mennonites in the World War/X
## SOME EXPERIENCES IN CAMP

Many letters were received by parents, pastors, and others from our brethren in camp. A few of those have been gathered and extracts from them will be given here. Others who passed through tri als even more severe were asked since their dis charge to write up their experiences. Some have done so, but the larger number of them dwelt much more on the care and protection of God than on the severity of their trials. One said, "Somehow one does not care to remember the hardships and does not like to write them. We would rather think of the goodness and mercy of God in carrying us through, and forget the unpleasant experiences." This is a most commendable spirit. One remarkable feature of these letters is that there is not one word of resentment in them, but there are calls for prayer to God for help, not only for the suffering boys, but also for their officers and persecutors.
Many of the young men suffered at the hands of noncommissioned officers who tried to compel them to accept service of some kind under the military establishment. Some were placed into the stockades where the other prisoners heaped all kinds of abuse upon them. These prisoners held mock trials, passed sentences, and proceeded to carry them out. They usually consisted of some inconsistent work, or that the party take a bath of alternate hot and cold water, and in some cases where compliance was not immediate the party was dragged under the shower and the water turned on without removing the clothing. It was not uncommon to see the sup posed criminal dragged through the sand with his wet clothes on, then brought back and placed under the shower until the party became unconscious or so benumbed that he could scarcely walk.
Following are a few sample letters. The names and home addresses of the writers will be omitted:
Camp Lee, Va., July 16, 1918. Dear Brother
Today some of us had the hardest experience that we have had since we came to camp. We were cursed, beaten, kicked, and compelled to go through exercises to the extent that a few were unconscious for some minutes. They kept it up the greater part of the afternoon, and then those who could possibly stand on their feet were compelled to take cold shower baths. One of the boys was scrubbed with a scrubbing brush, using lye on him. They drew blood in several ^places. I understand that tomorrow we are to be moved into tents back of headquarters and will be complete ly under the control of the Camp Sanitary Detachment with the rest of the C. O. boys. So the rough treatment is over so far as we are concerned, but I think that the officials at Wahsington should be notified so that conditions will be better for those who come later. It was the Company that we were in charge of today I certainly do thank God that it is over. I believe that I would sooner face the firing squad than go through much more of the same kind of treatment. But through it all my conviction is not changed, and I intend to stand for what I believe to be right. Pray for us that we may hold out faithful to the end.
Sincerely,
Dear Brother :
I went to Camp Cody, N. Mex., Nov. 7, 1917. The sergeant asked me to go on guard duty. I refused, so he took me to the first lieutenant. The latter began to scold me, when the commanding officer took up my case. He asked me some questions apparently to test my mental ca pacity, then asked me why I refused. I explained that it was contrary to my conscience. He ordered me to take the "billy" and walk my beat but should not dare to strike any one, and I obeyed When we were fitted out with uni forms I was one of the first called, was taken outside and made to stand bare-headed for three hours on the side of a building against which the sun was beating intensely, while two hundred fifty men signed up. Then they took me and tried to scare me with all sorts of threatenings of punish ment, imprisonments, etc. Finally they called up a sergeant at the stockade to come and get me. He soon came, and on the way to the stockade, he beat me with his club. The prisoners made sport of me, then giving me a mock court-martial trial. They put a rope around my neck and strung me up until I was almost unconscious. Here I believed that they would kill me, but they let me down and took me to the shower bath and turned cold water on me for about ten minutes until I was so numb that I could hardly help my self.
Later I was put to work, got into a heavy rain, and was refused dry clothes. I took cold which developed into influenza-pneumonia. Before I was released from the hospital help came through relatives writing to higher officials. Soon after leaving the hospital, arrangements were made for my release from camp, for which I was very thankful indeed.
Here is a letter from a young man who was willing to take noncombatant service :
1919.
Dear Brother :
I went to Camp Cody, N. Mex., June 25, 1918. At first I drilled without a rifle, but later was asked to take one, explaining that the President's orders concerning the C. O.'s required it, and I would get into non-combatant service in due time. I accepted it, and in two weeks was transferred to the infantry where, of course, 1 was asked again to take the rifle, and I saw that I had been deceived. I refused and explained why. Several nights after this, while I was in bed, some privates threw water into my bed, put a rope around my neck and jerked me out on the floor.
The next day two sergeants came to my tent and took me out, tied a gun on my shoulder and marched me down the street, one on each side of me, kicking me all the way. 1 was asked again whether I would take the rifle and drill. I refused and was taken to the bath-house, put under the shower bath where they turned on the water, alternating hot and cold, until I was so numb that I could scarcely rise.
Just then one of the higher officers came in and asked what they were about. They explained that they were giving me a bath- The officer told me to dress and go to my tent, that he wanted to interview me himself. He asked if I would take a rifle and drill. I told him that I could not. He ordered my sergeant to put me on company street work until they got my transfer, and in three weeks I was given non-combatant service.
Very truly Yours,
Camp Greenleaf, Ga., November 9, 1918. Dear Brother:
I want to let you know how things are going here. Thursday while I was eating dinner they took my suitcase and contents, and last evening after dark they came to my tent and took my clothes off except my underwear and kept them. The next morning I remained in bed. They came in and asked me whether I was sick. They took me out, set me onto a wheelbarrow and hauled me to the woods (forty rods or more) and back, and then to the supply house where they got a uniform for me. They told me to put it on. I said that I could not, so they took it and put it onto the wheelbarrow and told me to wheel it to my tent, which I did. I sat down on the bed in my underwear, and soon one of the men came in and put the uniform on me. I did not resist. I have it on now but it does not change me any. I am not discouraged, but am trusting in God who will care for me.
From your brother,
1919.
I went to Camp Greenleaf, Ga., July 22, 1918. Was asked to sign up for service; I explained that I could not do that but would be willing to accept a furlough for farm work or for reconstruction work under the Friends. About fifteen of us were segregated and put to excessively hard labor in order to make us yield, and about once a day they would come around and ask whether we were ready to give up. Nearly half of them did finally. I worked a few days longer, and seeing what they were trying to do, I refused to work any longer. Sergeant began to beat me, striking me with his fists and several times with a shovel. I told him that I would rather he would kill me than to use me up like that. He told the guard that he should not kill me as I was too anxious to die. They still beat me, finally offering me work that they claimed was entirely civilian. I accepted, provided that it was as they said.
We were kept at very hard labor for about three weeks until they saw the futility of it, and gradually made our tasks easier until they were only ordinary and light. In the meantime they occasionally took us to headquarters and tried to get us to sign the pay-roll, soldier's insurance, etc. Finally I had to sign the pay-roll in order to get my discharge, but I returned the money to the war department. All told, it was rather a hard experience; but was profitable from a spiritual standpoint.
Respectfully,
Feb. 8, 1919.
Dear Brother:
I came home Wednesday evening, Feb. 5. To get home, receive a hearty welcome and many expressions of joy for the effort made to maintain the faith, was alone worth the hardships which we endured.
I had been gone a few days more than ten months, of which I spent twenty-four days in our company, ten days in detention camp, seventy-eight days in the guard-house, one night in the Kansas City Police "lock-up," one hundred ninety-seven days in the disciplinary barracks (Fort Leavenworth, Kans.) and two days on the way home. Compare this with II Cor. 11:23-33, and one would almost consider that I had only been on a vacation
I do not approve of such practices as the world was engaged in, and will give them neither moral nor material support though it may mean imprisonment or even death for not doing so. If the army would never kill a man, I can not see how a person could become a part of it, giving moral and material support to its maintenance and still retain a Christian character. The standards it upholds and the injustices it practices are unbelievable to a man who never saw them The only part that I can have in the army is suffering its punishments. Its purposes and those of Christianity are as different as night and day. The aims of the army are coercion, terrorism, carnal force; the ideals of Christianity are love, meekness, gentleness, obedience to the will of God, etc. When these ideals are maintained to the best of ou-r ability, by God's grace He will provide care and protection in ways not imagined by man.
As to noncombatant service: all branches of service have one purpose; viz., to make the whole system a strong er organization of terrorism, destruction, and death. While I would not have been directly killing any one, I would have been doing a man's part in helping another do the act, and lending encouragement to the same. To support a thing and refuse to do the thing supported is either ignorance or cowardice. To refuse to go to the trenches and still give individual assistance to another doing so, is either an improper knowledge of the issues at stake or downright fear to face the bullets. I have a greater conscientious objection against noncombatant than against combatant service. I feel that the principle is the same, and that both are equal ly wrong. I would feel guilty toward the other man to accept service where the danger was not so great.
To an observer it may have seemed ridiculous to refuse to even plant flowers at the base hospital. In the first place, that was the duty of the working gang under the quarter master's department. Technically I would not have been doing military duty for I had not "signed up;" virtually I would have been rendering service because I was at work
The farther one went with the military officers the farther they demanded him to go. I felt that the farther I went the less reason I could give for stopping, so I con cluded that the best place to stop was in the beginning. It was on the charge of refusing to plant flowers that I received my court-martial sentence of ten years of hard labor in the disciplinary barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kans. Fraternally yours,
U. S. Transport, New York, 1919.
The military registration of June 5, 1917, included me, and I presented myself for registration, physical examination, and entrainment. The whole thing seemed vague and far away. On May 24, 1918, when I bade friends and relatives goodbye and boarded the troop train things became very real to me, the only conscientious objector among five hun dred men so far as I knew.
We arrived at Camp Lewis, Wash., May 28, and were assigned to Depot Brigade and permanent kitchen work. I refused it and was sent to the guard-house. There I went through the most severe physical punishment at the hands of noncommissioned officers and guards that I ever experi enced. I do not care to recount these abuses. Through the efforts of Bro. E. Z. Yoder of Hubbard, Oreg., conditions improved. I was in the guard-house forty days. Later I was sent to the Cascade Mountains on forest fire duty, and finally discharged December, 1918. I am glad for the lessons which I learned during my seven months of camp life, but hope I ll never be called upon to repeat them. I have rea lized the value of this truth: "The eternal God is thy re fuge." I believe that I can truly say that if I had not been called to camp, I would not be on this U. S. transport, on the eve of our departure for Turkey to engage in relief work.
Yours truly,
April 19, 1919.
Dear Brother
I arrived at Camp McArthur, Texas, September 7, 1918. I refused to don the uniform, but they made a plea to send our clothing to Belgian sufferers, so I explained that I would be willing to have that suit sent, but that I would not wear the uniform. They said that I should put it on to go back to my tent and then I could change to my other civilian suit. This was simply a catch; T was not allowed to change. Many persistent efforts were made to get me to accept some kind of service. The sergeant threatened me, and according to his own words, would have knocked me down with a club if a higher officer would not have prevented him from doing so.
One officer asked me to accept work or get down and pray. I knelt and prayed especially for my persecutors, but was not allowed to finish. I was then taken to the stockade. The prisoners held a mock trial and sentenced me to "twen ty-five tosses in the blanket and one hundred lashes with a leather strap." They immediately gave me the tosses and thirty-five lashes. They stopped to rest, gagged me, and proceeded to give me the remaining sixty-five lashes this time using the buckle end on me. The same evening they held another trial, and this time sentenced me to five hun dred lashes to be given the next evening.
While carrying out this sentence they would stop occa sionally and ask me whether I would work now. Receiving a negative answer each time, they began again until the whole sentence was carried out. Before the third evening the authorities had forbidden any more mock trials. After a stay of several days more I was asked by a lieutenant from headquarters whether I refused to wear the uniform and carry a gun, and on my refusal he sent me back to the tent and allowed me to put on my civilian clothes.
Refusing again to cut wood for the mess hall, the officer called the whole company together and told them that they could do anything with me that they pleased except that they dare not kill me. That night they organized and ex pected to have some fun with me. The officer in charge, fearing results, placed four guards over me. I was soon transferred to replacement camp. When ordered to do work which I could not conscientiously do, I was placed under an other guard. He picked up a stick and began to beat me. I was told that I dare not speak to any one and no one was allowed to speak to me; that I was to go to mess at the tear end of the line and have short rations.
On October 2, I was taken to the base hospital very sick with influenza, and was there three weeks. Some time after I was out again they tried once more to compel me to take service. For my refusal I was placed into solitary confinement and on a "bread and water" diet for twelve days, it was very rainy at that time and the roof leaked. My five by ten foot cell was very damp and I was cold day and night. They took my Bible away from me, but I had a small Testament which they did not find. I read much of the time in that.
Had a court-martial trial November 26, and was sentenced to five years imprisonment at Fort Leavenworth, Kans., but was released January 7, 1919, thanking God for my experience but hoping that there would never be conditions again in this, or any other country, which would make it necessary for me or any one else to experience such things in the future,
Your brother,
June 3, 1919.
Dear Brother:
I was inducted into the army about March 5. 1918, and was first sent to Camp Greenfield, Ga., where I remained more than five months and, of course, had some very hard trials. The officers tried to make me work as a soldier, and when I refused to work under the military establishment they threatened to shoot me, to hang me, etc.; but after hearing my reasons for not working, some of the officers were very kind while others did not want to see it that way.
I was transferred to many different companies, and on June 15, I was placed into the guard-house where I remained until August 8. Then I was transferred to Camp Meade, Md., under the guard of a military police. Here I was placed into the stockade where I was tried like gold in the fire. I was put into the sweat-box from dinner until supper and then beaten so that I felt the effects for more than a week. During all this time came the loving words of our Lord, "My grace is sufficient for thee." I tried to have them understand that if our Father would give me the strength I would not flinch even if I had to suffer. Later I was transferred to the C. O. barracks, and about five weeks later received a farm furlough to work for a farmer in Lancaster county, Pennslyvania. I was here three and a half months, then called back to Camp Meade for discharge from the army.
Yours truly,
April 23, 1919.
Dear Brother:
I arrived at Camp Greenleaf, Ga., September 8, 1918. The night previous was spent on the train and was a new experience to me. Wickedness was rampant and the expres sions were vile indeed, the worst that I ever heard. Once in camp we were placed in tents. I soon explained my position to several of the officers, stating that I could not drill nor even work under the military establishment. One of them said, "Man you will be proud of yourself." The two hundred fifty men in our company soon knew me, and in passing their tents I would hear shouts of "Shoot him," "Hang him," "Give us a sermon," "Come in and pray for us," "He won t fight," "He is yellow," and many other unpleasant statements.
As the company stood in lines for mess, some one would give the signal that the "preacher" was there and then all would hurl some uncomfortable expressions at me. Rather than suffer this I missed many meals. Numerous officers tried to get me to see things from their point of view. I explained my position, but much as I longed for sympathy I got none. While waiting in the examination hall one day, half a dozen lieutenants asked me a great many questions. They praised me for being "so bright," but could not under stand how one having such a "sound mind" could take such a position. One of them who pretended to be a Quaker, said, "One time I believed much as you do, but I know better now."
I was asked to don the uniform, and on refusing they put it on me and sent my clothes home. I was asked again to drill but refused. Two men pulled me out of my tent and held me in the ranks trying to make me keep step. They tramped my toes and kicked me. This treatment was kept up for about two weeks, but finding it of no avail they let me go. Scoldings and cursings were frequent. I was asked to help carry out several men on stretchers who were sick with influenza. I did so, but the Lord preserved me so that I did not get it.
One day a sergeant took me to the bath house and tried to compel me to accept some kind of service. He slapped me in the face, struck me repeatedly with his fists, and would catch me so that I would not fall. He would wring my nose, pull my hair, and strike my head against the Avail. He kept up this treatment for some time but when he saw that I would neither defend myself nor yield to accepting service he let me go. I had a black eye and a swollen face for a week or more.
Later I was placed with the other C. O.'s and in about four weeks from that time the armistice was signed. A little later I was transferred to Camp Sherman (O.) and soon discharged. I learned many valuable lessons in camp which are helpful to my religious experience, but I am per fectly willing to have no more trials of the same kind if that is satisfactory to my Lord. Praise Him for His keeping and protection.
Your brother,
Mock court-martial trials were not all held by prisoners. Even soldiers who were not prisoners and officers were sometimes guilty. In one camp in the central west several young men were placed with other C. O.'s who had been in camp longer or were segregated from the other soldiers. One of their number was sick and in the hospital when the trans fer was made. When he got out again, he asked for an interview with the captain, which was refused. Two days later he was called, when the following conversation took place:
Captain. "Some of the boys have accepted the uniform and work. I have made them first class privates, I ll make you a sergeant. Will you accept?"
C. O. "No, sir."
Captain. "You are up for a discharge, but I ll not sign it unless you put on the uniform and ac cept work."
C. O. "I think more of my religion than of such a discharge."
Captain. "You are very foolish. All we can do is to put you into the guard-house and await further orders."
The man was put into the guard-house for two days on a bread and water diet, then let out. One night at 10:30 he was called and asked whether he was willing to accept service, which he refused.
Captain. "Here is an order with Secretary Ba ker's name attached, AH C. O.'s hereafter shall be tried and punished as the court-martial may direct. "
The young man was asked whether he knew what this meant. He answered in the affirmative, but stated that he was willing to take the conse quences, still believing it to be a "bluff."
Captain. "You know, army orders change, and you may get your witnesses."
C. O. "I do not want any witnesses. I am not here for any criminal offense."
At 4:30, the next morning he was called and asked whether he had sent for his witnesses. On receiving a negative answer, the officer ordered a court-martial which was held. A major with tears in his eyes read, "The prisoner is guilty of violating the ninety-sixth article of war, and the decision of the jury is, death." He was hand-cuffed, taken to the brow of a hill by one lieutenant, one sergeant, and four soldiers.
Sergeant. "Show this man your loaded guns."
This was done and six bright cartridges came in sight.
Sergeant. "They are all red hot and made to kill."
Lieut. "Have you anything to say?"
C. O. "Nothing."
Lieut. "You have fifteen minutes to live. ten five three. Time is up, ready, aim, fire," but no shot was fired. After a silence of several minutes which seemed like hours, the lieutenant said, "We've decided to let you go until morning. We do not want to kill you." In the morning he was called before the offitcer again.
Captain. "Have you thought over this matter?"
C. O. "Yes, I certainly have; you would too if you had been in my place."
Captain. "Good, What is your decision?"
C. O. "Still the same as before, God helping me."
Captain. "All right, take him to the division guard-house."
The C. O. was then taken in the captain's car and landed at the C. O. barracks the happiest man in the lot. You say, "O, that was simply a mock trial." True, but the young man did not know it. To him it was real.
While the experiences given here were all those of brethren of the main branch of Mennonites, oth ers from other branches and even other denominations had experiences equally severe, and some of them being conscientious to the extent that they would not even keep their living places clean, were made to suffer cruel tortures. Possibly none of the Mennonite branches suffered more severely than the Hutterites. They will be referred to in a later chapter.
From these letters several things are evident:
First, that while some of the officers were very cruel and acted in very bad faith, they were not all so, as some officers gave respectful consideration to those who because of religious convictions could have no part in the military machine.
Second, that the officers in a great many cases bad no regard for truth; that no matter how great the deception, they had no convictions against using it if it served their purpose of "putting the young man across."
Third, that no difference how the objector was caused to make a statement, and regardless of the disadvantage to the young man when the truth be came known, he was expected to make his word good, and if he did not, he was charged with in sincerity.
Fourth, that as much as possible the tests were made individually, because it was easier to get one to yield when alone than when several were to gether.
Fifth, that the officers in many cases delighted in the abuses which were heaped upon the C. O. rather than to try to prevent such injustices, even though the latter was their plain duty.
Sixth, that so little did some of the officers know about true Christian conviction that they supposed it could be broken, just as stubbornness could in the obdurate, not realizing that when one had been made to go against religious convictions and better knowledge, a most serious damage had been done to character more serious than killing a man who remains true to his God and his conscience.
Seventh, that a willingness to accept noncombatant service as provided for by Government did not always prevent cruel treatment from those in authority.
Eighth, that hard as some of these things were to bear, they led many of the young men to higher standards of spiritual life, at least for the time being and how sad it would be if that spirituality should be lowered by pride in their accomplishments. May God protect these young men and keep them hum ble, so that they may be useful as well and may His grace be extended to those who failed to stand the test. "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God."