1082. My father, a World War I soldier, and The 100th anniversary of the armistice of World War I, November 11, 1918.
Today, in honor of the 100 year anniversary of the World War I armistice, I am reposting a prior blog about my dear father Orson Pratt Miles. He was in World War I, and had a disability pension for life, for the trauma he suffered. I wrote it 2 years ago on the anniversary of his death. I hope you feel the spirit of such a kind and good man as you read this! (And I'm posting it at 11 a.m. today!)
Today I want to honor my father, Orson Pratt Miles. He was born in St. George, Utah on September 7, 1891, and saw this town from basically the pioneer days. He received a pension for being disabled, after his time in World War I, and being on the front lines there. He was such a gentle soul, and seeing people dying around him, and having to take someone else's life was just too much for him to handle, and be normal after that time.
A repost of blog # 37, which I first posted on December 14, 2013.
This post is a bit longer than most. It tells of my father, Orson Pratt Miles's time in the army, and the heart touching story just before he died.
In 1987, my sister Mavis’ son Russell was living with Ruth Miles, his grandmother, attending Dixie College. He was in the “middle bedroom” and in cleaning out the closet he found an old box. It contained, among other things, a small journal which Pratt, his grandfather, apparently kept in his uniform pocket during World War I. Pratt would have been 27 years old at the time the war entries were made. (Russell typed what his Grandfather Pratt had written.)
Some of the entries in the journal were of signals, etc., used in war training. The following tells some of his experiences during that time. It is interesting to notice the notes seem quite happy, but because of some experiences which undoubtedly were not recorded, he was left with “shell shock”, or what would now be called “Post-traumatic stress syndrome”. He entered the Veteran’s hospital many times for complications.
-Beginning of what Dad (Pratt) wrote in a small diary (condensed some)------
Left St. George Sept. 19, 1917. Arrived at Camp Lewis Wash. Sept. 22 – Was there more than 9 months. Dud is an unexploded projectile of any kind. Don’t touch them.
Attributes of God
(These were notes he had written in his diary.)
I. Gods knowledge
II. Gods faith and Power
III. Gods Justice
IV. Gods Judgement
V. Gods Mercy
V. Gods Truth
I had heard that the army life ruined many men, but I decided I wanted to come. The army has helped me in many ways. Has made me more fully appreciate my good parents and the good people with whom I was raised. By knowing the desires of my parents and the blessings I would receive from my Father in Heaven by keeping myself clean from the many evils that would come in my path I have tried to humble myself and I prayed morning and night that I might have strength to keep my self clean because there is so much temptation. It is exceptionally hard in the army to keep the Word of Wisdom. (no smoking, drinking alcohol, tea or coffee etc.) But by living it one receives much strength and satisfaction.
It would be useless for one to try to imagine what 16 months of army life really was unless they had experienced it. There are many trials and unpleasant things that go with such a life. It was hard for free young men like we were to be brought so suddenly under the strict military rule that is necessary for a well trained army but nevertheless the spirit with which the boys went into the army was fine and very little trouble came between officers and men.
Our first 2 months at Camp Lewis was the hardest for it took a while to become acquainted with our work. We received our shots in the arm as they were called and I can say this was no pleasure although they were very important for by them typhoid fever and small pox is almost done away with among the soldiers for very seldom does one get these diseases after taking the treatments.
It was some time before we got our uniforms and not being used to the cold damp climate we found there it was hard for us to keep warm and keep from taking cold. I was just in K.P. the first day I reached camp, so I formed a bad opinion of the army to begin with because K.P-ing for 14 hours a day is rather hard for a rookie. (K.P. was duty helping prepare food, peeling mountains of potatoes, etc.) The breaking of rules was punished by K.P. so the boys were kept pretty straight for none had any love for this job.
On Sunday June 30th we left Camp Lewis for a long journey. We were about 7 days on the road before we reached C.M. L. G. NY (?). We had a fine trip crossing the states. We paraded in many towns and were treated fine by the Red Cross at most every stop. We went through 13 states and over the line into Canada. After staying at Camp Mills about a week we took ship at Hoboken, N.J. the 13th of July and on the morning of the 14th we sailed out of N.Y. harbor and greeted the Statue of Liberty good bye for a while.
Our trip across was long and tiresome because we were so crowded and so long on the way. We crossed England by rail and from there we crossed the channel and landed at Le Havre, France, Sunday morning, July 28.
After training in this part of France on the 155 c.m. heavy artillery guns for about 3 months we received orders to train for the battle line. After riding 3 days in box cars we reached the part of France where the big guns were roaring. Day and night they kept up a steady roar and the whole heavens were lighted up at night by the fire from the big guns and the different signals that were sent by lights.
After staying in a rest camp for several days we became used to the roar of the battle and were waiting for orders to go into position on the firing line. On Monday morning Nov. 11, we received orders to pack up as soon as possible and advance to the battle line. By 10:30 we were packed and some of the trucks had left with some of our equipment. About this time word came over the wireless that the Armistice had been signed and in a few minutes orders came for us to unpack and return to our quarters.
Some of the boys began cheering and some claimed they were disappointed because we never got a chance to get in the thickest of the fight after getting so near to it. Although I was willing to do my part if we had sent into action. I must acknowledge that I was glad that it ended when it did for I had no desire whatever to kill anyone.
We were taken out in trucks to see some of the most interesting parts of the battlefield, and it was great to see what the Germans had left behind in making their hurried retreat. One place in particular was located on the Hindenburg line. At this place Prince Rubert of Bavaria had his quarters. They were made of cement and plastered and painted on the inside. He had a fine bathroom and a marble bath, a fine hardwood table, a large mirror and electric lights and everything fixed up fine. This place must have been a resting place for soldiers or a resort of some kind. They had built a theater and more open air tables and bench places for the soldiers to sit around, or they might have been built for serving beer or drinks of some kind.
About the 26 of Nov. we started for Germany. On account of a shortage of trucks we made very slow progress. Part of the regiment was moved ahead and then waited while the others were moved up. We went through the city of Verdun and right through the country where the hardest fighting of war had taken place. Barbed wire entanglements, trenches, guns placements, and dug outs were everywhere. We were only a few days behind the Germans. Telegraph lines had been chopped down and many things destroyed. Our trip was very interesting. We passed through southern Belgium and Luxemburg. We were on the road the better part of a month." (End of Pratt's writing).
His wife Ruth writes of her knowledge of his experiences:
On the way to France he traveled in what was called a "cattle boat". Twenty one days of rough sea travel. One or two men would jump overboard each day, rather than go on to battle. Many of the service men were stationed in civilian's homes during part of the war. During this time, Pratt gave away his rations of bread, tobacco, candy, and butter, to these "poor cusses", as Pratt called them, many of whom had not had white flour or sugar for over 4 years. Some of these people kept his address and during World War II sent letters asking for food and clothing. We sent several boxes of clothes, but not the tobacco and coffee they asked for.
Once in France he was put into heavy artillery (machine guns). He undoubtedly saw and experienced more than he would ever talk about. He was poisoned twice on food while in France.
Pratt tells of his trip home. "We came home on the "Acquatania", the most beautiful ship afloat at the time, a real floating city. It was awfully rough sea though, cold and chilly weather most all the time.
" The breakfast whistle would blow at 5:00 A.M. and oh how the men were seasick. It is strange that I never did get sea sick. There were over 8000 on board, 2050 who were German and French brides who had married soldiers. The trip lasted 5 days, and one sailor said that it was the roughest sea he had ever seen."
When he came home he was ill with shell shock (called combat fatigue -- now post traumatic stress syndrome.) He spent several years in Veteran's Hospitals. Pratt was always a very patriotic citizen, and very loyal to the Constitution of our country. He got very disgusted at the dishonesty of our country's leaders.
After getting out of the army in 1919, Pratt was offered the job of principal of the Virgin school. He went to summer school in Salt Lake to prepare for it, but changed his mind and enrolled for training at Moler's Barber College in Salt Lake City. He went in as an apprentice, as there was no schooling required then, and took the exam after one hear. He passed. -- So he became a barber after the war -- (I had thought it was before.)
(By Pal) I remember Mother (Ruth) telling me of the last few days before Pratt, our Father died. He died on December 14th, 1975. Mother was sewing something for Christmas, and Dad heard the hum of the sewing machine. He asked what that sound was, and she said “Oh, it is just the machine going.” She thinks he thought she said “It’s the machine gun”, because immediately he became delirious and thought he was back in the war. He never had talked about the war, and would not tell us of his experiences.
But some of the experiences he began telling about, (57 years later) as if he were reliving them, were shocking to her, and she said she had no idea he had been through such soul-wrenching experiences. He told of manning a machine gun, and saying “I didn’t want to kill him, but it was either him or me.” I don’t know if he actually had to shoot someone, but in his mind it was reality to him at the time. He also said something about not having any protection from the enemy, and that to have some barricade to hide behind, they had to stack up the bodies of those who had died. Whether those who had died were his old friends, I don’t know. I do know they went into the war with a local group, some of whom he would have known his whole life.
Mother said that after he had calmed down from that agonizing time of re-living the war, he didn’t say any more until he died, a day or two later. It is too bad that they didn’t have some kind of psychological help that could have helped him. I once asked him if he was in pain, when he was telling me of how nervous he felt. He said he wasn’t in pain, but it was a feeling he couldn’t describe. I imagine it was sort of a “panic attack” or anxiety attack, or something like that. I haven’t felt that, but it must have been awful.
I remember the day he passed away. It was a Sunday morning. We (Pal) lived in Sandy, Utah. Mother had called us and told us he was close to passing, and we went to Church, but came home in the middle of it, and called her. He was barely breathing at the time. We said a special prayer, asking Heavenly Father to take him home, if it was his time to go.
Not long after, Mother called, and said he hadn’t breathed for about 10 minutes. We felt our prayer had been answered and he was finally back with his beloved parents, several brothers who had preceded him in death, and both sisters. He was able to rest at last.
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2016
759. My dear father, Orson Pratt Miles, passed away 41 years ago today. He was a World War I Veteran, and disabled most of his life. Great man!
Today I want to honor my father, Orson Pratt Miles. He was born in St. George, Utah on September 7, 1891, and saw this town from basically the pioneer days. He received a pension for being disabled, after his time in World War I, and being on the front lines there. He was such a gentle soul, and seeing people dying around him, and having to take someone else's life was just too much for him to handle, and be normal after that time.
My father, a true gentleman who always wore a tie, and a hat when he went outside!
A repost of blog # 37, which I first posted on December 14, 2013.
This post is a bit longer than most. It tells of my father, Orson Pratt Miles's time in the army, and the heart touching story just before he died.
In 1987, my sister Mavis’ son Russell was living with Ruth Miles, his grandmother, attending Dixie College. He was in the “middle bedroom” and in cleaning out the closet he found an old box. It contained, among other things, a small journal which Pratt, his grandfather, apparently kept in his uniform pocket during World War I. Pratt would have been 27 years old at the time the war entries were made. (Russell typed what his Grandfather Pratt had written.)
Some of the entries in the journal were of signals, etc., used in war training. The following tells some of his experiences during that time. It is interesting to notice the notes seem quite happy, but because of some experiences which undoubtedly were not recorded, he was left with “shell shock”, or what would now be called “Post-traumatic stress syndrome”. He entered the Veteran’s hospital many times for complications.
-Beginning of what Dad (Pratt) wrote in a small diary (condensed some)------
Left St. George Sept. 19, 1917. Arrived at Camp Lewis Wash. Sept. 22 – Was there more than 9 months. Dud is an unexploded projectile of any kind. Don’t touch them.
Attributes of God
(These were notes he had written in his diary.)
I. Gods knowledge
II. Gods faith and Power
III. Gods Justice
IV. Gods Judgement
V. Gods Mercy
V. Gods Truth
I had heard that the army life ruined many men, but I decided I wanted to come. The army has helped me in many ways. Has made me more fully appreciate my good parents and the good people with whom I was raised. By knowing the desires of my parents and the blessings I would receive from my Father in Heaven by keeping myself clean from the many evils that would come in my path I have tried to humble myself and I prayed morning and night that I might have strength to keep my self clean because there is so much temptation. It is exceptionally hard in the army to keep the Word of Wisdom. (no smoking, drinking alcohol, tea or coffee etc.) But by living it one receives much strength and satisfaction.
It would be useless for one to try to imagine what 16 months of army life really was unless they had experienced it. There are many trials and unpleasant things that go with such a life. It was hard for free young men like we were to be brought so suddenly under the strict military rule that is necessary for a well trained army but nevertheless the spirit with which the boys went into the army was fine and very little trouble came between officers and men.
Our first 2 months at Camp Lewis was the hardest for it took a while to become acquainted with our work. We received our shots in the arm as they were called and I can say this was no pleasure although they were very important for by them typhoid fever and small pox is almost done away with among the soldiers for very seldom does one get these diseases after taking the treatments.
It was some time before we got our uniforms and not being used to the cold damp climate we found there it was hard for us to keep warm and keep from taking cold. I was just in K.P. the first day I reached camp, so I formed a bad opinion of the army to begin with because K.P-ing for 14 hours a day is rather hard for a rookie. (K.P. was duty helping prepare food, peeling mountains of potatoes, etc.) The breaking of rules was punished by K.P. so the boys were kept pretty straight for none had any love for this job.
On Sunday June 30th we left Camp Lewis for a long journey. We were about 7 days on the road before we reached C.M. L. G. NY (?). We had a fine trip crossing the states. We paraded in many towns and were treated fine by the Red Cross at most every stop. We went through 13 states and over the line into Canada. After staying at Camp Mills about a week we took ship at Hoboken, N.J. the 13th of July and on the morning of the 14th we sailed out of N.Y. harbor and greeted the Statue of Liberty good bye for a while.
Our trip across was long and tiresome because we were so crowded and so long on the way. We crossed England by rail and from there we crossed the channel and landed at Le Havre, France, Sunday morning, July 28.
After training in this part of France on the 155 c.m. heavy artillery guns for about 3 months we received orders to train for the battle line. After riding 3 days in box cars we reached the part of France where the big guns were roaring. Day and night they kept up a steady roar and the whole heavens were lighted up at night by the fire from the big guns and the different signals that were sent by lights.
After staying in a rest camp for several days we became used to the roar of the battle and were waiting for orders to go into position on the firing line. On Monday morning Nov. 11, we received orders to pack up as soon as possible and advance to the battle line. By 10:30 we were packed and some of the trucks had left with some of our equipment. About this time word came over the wireless that the Armistice had been signed and in a few minutes orders came for us to unpack and return to our quarters.
Some of the boys began cheering and some claimed they were disappointed because we never got a chance to get in the thickest of the fight after getting so near to it. Although I was willing to do my part if we had sent into action. I must acknowledge that I was glad that it ended when it did for I had no desire whatever to kill anyone.
We were taken out in trucks to see some of the most interesting parts of the battlefield, and it was great to see what the Germans had left behind in making their hurried retreat. One place in particular was located on the Hindenburg line. At this place Prince Rubert of Bavaria had his quarters. They were made of cement and plastered and painted on the inside. He had a fine bathroom and a marble bath, a fine hardwood table, a large mirror and electric lights and everything fixed up fine. This place must have been a resting place for soldiers or a resort of some kind. They had built a theater and more open air tables and bench places for the soldiers to sit around, or they might have been built for serving beer or drinks of some kind.
About the 26 of Nov. we started for Germany. On account of a shortage of trucks we made very slow progress. Part of the regiment was moved ahead and then waited while the others were moved up. We went through the city of Verdun and right through the country where the hardest fighting of war had taken place. Barbed wire entanglements, trenches, guns placements, and dug outs were everywhere. We were only a few days behind the Germans. Telegraph lines had been chopped down and many things destroyed. Our trip was very interesting. We passed through southern Belgium and Luxemburg. We were on the road the better part of a month." (End of Pratt's writing).
His wife Ruth writes of her knowledge of his experiences:
On the way to France he traveled in what was called a "cattle boat". Twenty one days of rough sea travel. One or two men would jump overboard each day, rather than go on to battle. Many of the service men were stationed in civilian's homes during part of the war. During this time, Pratt gave away his rations of bread, tobacco, candy, and butter, to these "poor cusses", as Pratt called them, many of whom had not had white flour or sugar for over 4 years. Some of these people kept his address and during World War II sent letters asking for food and clothing. We sent several boxes of clothes, but not the tobacco and coffee they asked for.
Once in France he was put into heavy artillery (machine guns). He undoubtedly saw and experienced more than he would ever talk about. He was poisoned twice on food while in France.
Pratt tells of his trip home. "We came home on the "Acquatania", the most beautiful ship afloat at the time, a real floating city. It was awfully rough sea though, cold and chilly weather most all the time.
" The breakfast whistle would blow at 5:00 A.M. and oh how the men were seasick. It is strange that I never did get sea sick. There were over 8000 on board, 2050 who were German and French brides who had married soldiers. The trip lasted 5 days, and one sailor said that it was the roughest sea he had ever seen."
When he came home he was ill with shell shock (called combat fatigue -- now post traumatic stress syndrome.) He spent several years in Veteran's Hospitals. Pratt was always a very patriotic citizen, and very loyal to the Constitution of our country. He got very disgusted at the dishonesty of our country's leaders.
After getting out of the army in 1919, Pratt was offered the job of principal of the Virgin school. He went to summer school in Salt Lake to prepare for it, but changed his mind and enrolled for training at Moler's Barber College in Salt Lake City. He went in as an apprentice, as there was no schooling required then, and took the exam after one hear. He passed. -- So he became a barber after the war -- (I had thought it was before.)
But some of the experiences he began telling about, (57 years later) as if he were reliving them, were shocking to her, and she said she had no idea he had been through such soul-wrenching experiences. He told of manning a machine gun, and saying “I didn’t want to kill him, but it was either him or me.” I don’t know if he actually had to shoot someone, but in his mind it was reality to him at the time. He also said something about not having any protection from the enemy, and that to have some barricade to hide behind, they had to stack up the bodies of those who had died. Whether those who had died were his old friends, I don’t know. I do know they went into the war with a local group, some of whom he would have known his whole life.
Mother said that after he had calmed down from that agonizing time of re-living the war, he didn’t say any more until he died, a day or two later. It is too bad that they didn’t have some kind of psychological help that could have helped him. I once asked him if he was in pain, when he was telling me of how nervous he felt. He said he wasn’t in pain, but it was a feeling he couldn’t describe. I imagine it was sort of a “panic attack” or anxiety attack, or something like that. I haven’t felt that, but it must have been awful.
I remember the day he passed away. It was a Sunday morning. We (Pal) lived in Sandy, Utah. Mother had called us and told us he was close to passing, and we went to Church, but came home in the middle of it, and called her. He was barely breathing at the time. We said a special prayer, asking Heavenly Father to take him home, if it was his time to go.
Not long after, Mother called, and said he hadn’t breathed for about 10 minutes. We felt our prayer had been answered and he was finally back with his beloved parents, several brothers who had preceded him in death, and both sisters. He was able to rest at last.
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