# The Czechoslovak Review/Volume 3/Nine Days' Wonder

Nine Days’ Wonder
Sunday afternoon July 20th, 1919, has gone down in the history of the Czechoslovak army as one of the most dramatic days in all its varied experience. That day witnessed the arrival of the Steamer Archer in the Harbor of San Diego, carrying some two thousand Czechoslovak troops who were en route to their homes in Czechoslovakia. Nine days were spent at Camp Kearny before the troops were entrained to continue the journey by rail to the Eastern Port. They were indeed a “Nine Days’ Wonder”.
Hours before the Archer was sighted, a crowd of Czechoslovaks from all Southern California, together with most of the citizens of San Diego, had assembled at the pier. Groups of young women of the War Camp Community Service stood with baskets and armloads of flowers, wearing badges of white and scarlet—the ancient colors of the new Republic. S. S. Archer arrives in San Diego with 2000 heroes of Siberia. The girls and women of the Czechoslovak nation who had come to greet their countrymen donned the native costumes of their home land so that the heroes might see at once that they were among their own. Even a tiny Miss not yet five years old strolled about proudly in peasant costume, to cheer the heart of some returning hero and remind him of perchance another such a little girl waiting for him at home. A committee of citizens and countrymen had gone out in a launch to welcome the troops on board the steamer. Every heart on shore beat fast. Every eye was moist at the thought of what this reception would mean. After five years of horror and blood, they were to met friends, hear their own language spoken. They would be in America, the first lap of the journey done.
At about four o’clock in the afternoon of that beautiful Sunday the massive hull of the Archer swung into the harbor. But long even before the men could be distinguished on the crowded deck, there floated to us across the water strains of the dear old songs of the homeland. “Kde Domov Můj” and “Hej Slované”. Soon the waiting crowds could distinguish the words and a mighty chorus swelled up from Czechoslovaks on shore and mingled with that far out on the water. Slowly with scarcely a perceptible motion the mighty load slipped in. Faces could now be distinguished—bronzed, scarred and weatherbeaten, but what a glory shone there. Sobbing voices from shore called out “Na zdar” and a thousand voices called back “Na zdar, krajané”. The American friends present caught the spirit and enthusiasm of that mighty moment and called “Na zdar” over and over, as if the words were not strange to their tongues. Long before the steamer was alongside, a shower of flowers was tossed to the men who caught them with cheers and banter and fastened the blossoms to cap and blouse. A babel of greetings sounded from every quarter. “Where are you from, brother?” “I am from Plzeň,” “I am from Olomouc”. “I have an uncle there, you must know him.” And so the greetings went on. Gradually the boat pulled alongside and the troops were unloaded. Groups of American Military Police stood ready to give assistance and keep order in the landing.
​The first to be taken off were the wounded and invalids, some on stretchers, some carried on the backs of gentle comrades, who had done similar service many times before, some led, some on crutches and with canes and not a few scorning all help and making heroic effort to go unassisted. Faces beamed and every eye shone with a light not to be described. The air was red with waving banners. From every direction came shouts of welcome and greeting. Men and women stood with tear-stained faces and felt no embarrassment.
The waiting crowd had been warned that on account of quarantine regulations visitors might not mix with troops. But regulations are weak things, when hearts are overflowing. The heroes found themselves surrounded, and warm friendly hands clasped theirs in greeting. Marching from the pier to the station. The distance from the pier to the trains which were to take the men to Camp Kearney is but a few city blocks, and the soldiers were escorted there by young women bearing two large flags—one with the stars and stripes and the other the white and red of the Czechoslovak nation. The streets were lined with automobiles, and crowds pressed in from every side to do honor to the men, but by six o’clock all trains were loaded and speeding on to Camp Kearny.
Camp Kearny is some twenty miles from the city of San Diego and our men were given nine days’ rest there before proceeding with the journey. Every moment of that time a throng of people mingled with the troops. Thousands of pictures were taken. Kind friends regardless of nationality came with gifts and dainties of every kind. There were those who wrote letters, sent telegrams, answered questions and gave advice. The Y. M. C. A. at Camp Kearney at once became the haven and headquarters for the men. This was one thing in this strange new land that was not strange or new. It needed no language to be come acquainted with the Secretary Mr. Shaffer. Our men know the Y. M. C. A . “Strejcek”. He has been a friend for a long while whose heart was tested in the far off battlefield of Siberia. In the trenches, in the huts, in the roar of battle, in the hospital and even at the edge of a hastily dug grave, these men were always at their side. One old scarred veteran remarked. “Had it not been for our Uncles, the Y. M .C. A. men, life would have indeed been impossible. No snow was so deep, no night so cold or so dark, no march so long ,but what our blessed uncles were there at our side with food, with hot drinks, with smokes, with comfort and fun to cheer and sustain us.
God bless our little Uncles, the Y.M.C.A. men; they have been through it all with us.” Every day of the nine in camp was crowded with entertainment. Tuesday evening a reception was given the men. Many addresses were made in the Czech language by both hosts and guests. They sang, and such singing one hears but seldom. Several out of town guests spent a number of days with their countrymen. Los Angeles and suburbs was represented by a delegation of some 200, Imperial valley sent practically every Czechoslovak. Miss Šárka Hrbkova, Professor in the University of Nebraska, was present a part of the time and addressed the men on several occasions: her words in the beautiful Czech tongue were met with applause and appreciation. Prof. and Mrs. Čapek of Chicago spent some days. Miss M. Madeline Veverka of Los Angeles spent the entire time in camp—interpreting, speaking, writing, send​ing telegrams and visiting the sick and wounded. Mrs. Šoupal of Pasadena brought hundreds of dollars worth of clothing and shoes, the gift of kind Pasadena friends. Citizens of San Diego provided automobiles for transporting groups of the soldiers to places of interest. A rare day was that spent as guests of Madam Tingley and her pupils at the Theosophic Homestead at Point Loma. The hospital men were the guests of Miss Scrips at LaJolla. The day spent there cheered and refreshed them beyond words. Addresses of welcome, dinners, drives, receptions and dances were crowded one upon the other, so that the men had scarcely a moment to think of the sufferings of the past.
Some weeks before the arrival of the transport, a linden tree, the national tree of the Czechs, was planted in Balboa park to commemorate the burning of the martyred John Hus in 1415, and also to honor the returning heroes. On Sunday, July 27th a program was given at the Spreckles organ pavillion to unveil the tablet recording the event and presenting the tree to the Park Commission. The tablet is a bronze plate, the work of a Czech artist, Mr. A. Lešovský of Los Angeles, and bears the following legend.
LÍPA
Czechoslovak National Tree
Planted in commemoration of their independence and in memory of the sons of Czechoslovakia for their great sacrifice in the World War for justice and liberty.
Dedicated July 1919 when the Czechoslovak army visited our city on their homeward journey from Siberia.
Czechoslovak National Alliance of San Diego.
Some three hundred soldiers were brought to the exercises so that they might have an opportunity to sing national airs at the dedication of the tree. Five thousand people stood thrilled and awed at the music of that chorus. One unique number was the singing of the Star Spangled Banner in English by these veterans. When they learned that they were to stop in America, which was not until they had been some days out on the Pacific, from Vladivostok, they began to learn our national hymn. It had to be learned word by word, and yet every word was perfect in accent and emphasis. Mr. Slavíček whose untiring efforts have made this reception a historic one presided for the Czechoslovaks. Judge Henry C. Ryan accepted the tree for the park commission and for the city, with the words that he hoped and believed the new nation which it represented, would grow and flourish, sending strong roots into the soil as would this little tree here in our land. Mr. Novotný, an attorney, reviewed the history and the present struggle and victory of the Czechs. He gave the dramatic story of this Czechoslovak army in Siberia and its service to the allies and to the world. Miss Veverka spoke of the national ideals which had made this great nation great. At the suggestion of one of the citizens, a purse of over $500 was collected in a few minutes to be sent with the invalids to their hungry children.
And then came Monday July 28th. The journey was resumed by rail and our friends bade us farewell. For such a welcome, for such hospitality they had no words. It was beyond any thing dreamed or thought. Slowly the trains were loaded at intervals of two hours, leaving the badly wounded to the last. The faithful Y. W. C. A. and the beloved Y. M. C. A. were there; the friends who had greeted them on arival were still there in large number. A large delegation with the band from the Homestead at Point Loma was there and citizens and friends from San Diego came to bid God-speed to their guests. When the last train was filled, when the last hero had been tenderly lifted from the stretcher, while the band played, Madam Tingley presented to the boys a lovely Czech flag. Hundreds of bouquets had been distributed to the invalids, flags waved from every window of the coaches, “Na Zdar,” “S Bohem” and “Na shledanou” burst from the lips of the men. Then from out of the crowd stepped Mrs. Hora, who had carried the stars and stripes at all the gatherings during the nine days. Addressing the commander in charge of the train, she presented him with the large American flag, which had appeared at all the gatherings. She spoke most feelingly and said: “Captain, before your valiant troops leave us for the dear homeland, we Czechoslovaks of this beautiful state of California wish to give them some token. We wish to give them that which we value above every thing else in the world the stars and stripes. We are giving this flag especially to this division of wounded, because they have paid the greatest price, because it has cost them most. Take it to your land, and may it ever stand side by side with the white and red of your own nation.” The commanding officer accepted the flag assuring us that he and his men would treasure it as their most valued possession and guard it with their lives. He pledged that it should always wave beside that of the Czechoslovaks in peace as well as in war. Shortly after, the signals were given and the last train slipped out and we were alone.
M. V.
This work was published in 1919 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 104 years or less since publication.
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