Of War: Stripling Warriors and Refugees

Leslie Thomas Foy, WWI

My mother remembers little of her father as she was just eight years old when he died. In family stories, however, he is larger than life, a missionary for God, a soldier in the Great War, a man of letters, a businessman, a loving husband and father. On Memorial Day weekend we remember his service to country thanks to a history of that service written by mother, his daughter Inez, and a synopsis by her brother Leslie printed by my cousin Shelly.

The brave die never, though, they sleep in dust:

Their courage nerves a thousand living men. 

                                            - Minot J. Savage

Leslie was intimately associated with war beginning with the black clouds which boded ill in 1913, while stationed in France as part of a hospital evacuation unit and continued after the armistice in occupied Germany. War didn't end for Leslie at his discharge either. It extending through physical and emotional after-effects which haunted the family for years.

Leslie was serving a mission in the Netherlands or Holland in when conflict began in Europe. He wrote home from the War Zone from Leemwarden, Holland, October 10, 1914.

"...Holland has not yet been forced to take part in the present conflict, thereby escaping that great calamity which is waging in this part of Europe. She has become the refuge of many thousands of fugitives who have been driven from their homes penniless, seeking shelter at the hands of their hospitable neighbor, the Dutchman. Many rumors have reached my ears of the great tragedy which is being played in Belgium and France; of the people who are being slain, of the cities which are being burned; but is was not til last night that I could really sense the terribleness of the situation. Last night brought a climax to the whole problem, when two extra trains pulled into the station at midnight carrying between five and ten hundred fugitives. The whole population had turned out and awaited the arrival of those homeless wanderers and when they emerged from the station, what a sad sight met our eyes! There were mothers and babes in their arms; children with nothing but a bundle of clothes - no father nor mother, no home. On they came, a little army of rich and poor. Such a scene had I never witnessed before. They were taken to a large exchange building and given food and clothes, and from there they were taken to several different school buildings which had been arranged for their comfort. Those who the day before were millionaires slept side by side with their servants on a bundle of straw. This is but one of the hundreds of similar incidents that occur everyday. It will be a great lesson to mankind and they are paying dearly for it. I only wish they could see it as I do. Experience is a dear school. There is no wheat bread here in Holland. All we get is brown bread and I am afraid that if things continue so, that we will have a famine. The cost of living is raising everyday and work is becoming scarce. All we can do is to live and hope. I am one of the eight missionaries who have been called to remain..."

Belgians fleeing into Holland

I think of that young missionary who had been called to Holland just one year after his mother, Juliette (Julia) Burr Foy, had died. This put a great strain on the family. Leslie’s father was finding it impossible for him to be caring for his younger children and be earning a living for them with his cattle on the range. For Leslie to leave was a great sacrifice. Today in church a woman likened the Sons of Helaman to the veterans of our era. Having learned at his mother's knee, Leslie knew he should serve a mission. He later knew, just as those stripling warriors had know from their mothers that he should enlist in the war effort.

"1917 was a year which changed the lives of most of the citizens of the United States, including the Foys.  When war was declared, Leslie and his cousin, James, who had lived with the family while he attended high school, dutifully registered for the draft along with the other young men of the area.  Little did anyone realize what the future held for the two cousins, especially James, but the Master weaver’s shuttle was deftly passing back and forth through the loom, repatterning the lives of these two young men as they appeared on the family tapestry.  James’ registration number was the first one to be drawn of all the draftees in the entire country.  Leslie’s was low enough that he got busy applying for admission to the medical corps.

"Leslie had been working hard to get as much of the dry farm plowed for planting as possible before winter set in, when opportunity came knocking.  The school at Bluff needed a teacher, who would also act as principal.  Although he knew he might be called up for military service at any time, he still decided to take the job.  What a shock when he learned that James had died in an army hospital in Virginia and that his body was being shipped home for burial.  Not even waiting for his pay, Leslie, very downheartedly, left Bluff for Moab to attend the funeral of his cousin.

"Leslie didn't go back to Bluff. In February he left for basic training in the medical corps at Fort Riley, Kansas (Barker). 

No doubt, it was in part because he knew his rancher father would need him to return home alive to help care for the motherless children in the family that Leslie applied to the medical corps. Patriotism and responsibility must have weighed heavily. Excerpts of a letter published in Moab's newspaper, "The Independent" which was sent by Leslie from Ft. Riley, Kansas.

Leslie above training trench at Ft. Riley

 "...Every one is eager for action and I guess that we will get it and perhaps mighty sudden at that...The big drive that is being launched present is a very serious one. It is filling the army hospitals with wounded men. They are over worked and it is up to us to lend them aid...

"As many of your readers might wonder as to the duties of an Evacuation Hospital, I shall try to describe some of the details and labor connected with this organization. In the first place, Evacuation means that we must be ever ready to sway back and forth with the ever changing line of action. We must be prepared to move - in case of a drive on our lines from the enemy, to the rear - carrying with us all our patients and equipage and in case of an advance we must follow keeping always just within the line of communication which is approximately eight miles behind the first line of trenches. There are in this company about fifteen officers who are experienced doctors and surgeons who will be in charge of everything connected with the hospital. Attache to these is a corps of about two hundred hospital men - such as myself - who perform general hospital work..." 

Excerpt of letter from Kansas dated March 7, 1918.

"Sure gets lonesome sometimes for a good talk with some of the home people. Those of the world are so much different you know. You can be mighty thankful that you are a L.D.S. Saint."

Leslie loaded with gear. Ft. Riley, Kansas, 1918.

Excerpt of letter from Kansas dated March 28, 1918.

"We are asked not to disclose any names, towns, companies, ships, trains or dates of moves or arrivals. This much I can say, we are ready to go... Have you ever received any notice that you are the benefactor of that $10,000 Government Insurance I took out in your favor? If not I will see into it."

Excerpts of letters to his father and siblings from Kansas dated April 1918.

"...One cannot take life too serious. You must all work together and help Papa. It would make him feel like we were grateful for the sacrifices he has been making for us...By all means kids, choose good companions and read good books. You are judged by the company you keep...What is the use of living if we cannot be or do something above the ordinary. Lead good, clean, moral lives...Cultivate cheerfulness and by all means kindness and good will toward each other. Your best friends are your brothers and sisters...Well, be good and be thankful that you were raised among the Mormons...Kids, if you could only see what comes out of careless and loose morals. Dirty, irksome diseases are eating out the vitals of our young men and women. I have seen lots of sin and sorrow in my rounds, but what I have seen here in these hospitals since my sojourn here puts a cap on it all."

Excerpt of letter from Kansas dated May 10, 1918.

"...I want to go where I can do the most good. Am proud that I'm here protecting you loved ones...You must do your part. Be good, live clean lives."

Those bound for Evac Hospital 8 boarded a small Italian liner at Hoboken, New Jersey. The following excerpt is from the book Stretchers written by a comrade and friend, Fred Pottle.

"We entered the vast, echoing sheds, passed boat after boat, and finally stopped beside the smallest and least impressive vessel we had seen that morning, a vessel bearing an Italian name, the Caserta. We had secretly expected it. Things for some time had been going much too well. Our quarters, we found, were the very worst in this very bad ship, at the lowest level, far below the water line.  The whole middle of the ship had been cleared out and filled with tiers of rough wooden bunks. Our dungeon naturally had no portholes, but received such light as it did get from the open hatch in the deck, far above. The impression one received as he looked up was something like that of being in a well, a shaft having been left open from the hatch, down through the various levels of bunks, to our quarters. At the bottom of the well, under the hatch, were built rough tables, while the bunks rose up in tiers on all four sides. It was pitch dark at all times in the tiers against the sides of the vessel, and there was none too much light anywhere. When it rained, or the sea was rough enough to break over the deck, the hatch had to be covered up with canvas, which allowed still less. Below decks it was stuffy and intolerably cramped, and when everyone was on deck it was equally cramped there. Our extravagant enthusiasm for the pleasures of ocean travel on an army transport was considerably damped, and matters were not improved by the execrable mess to which we were soon served. As dark came on, we went to bed early, for lights were not permitted, and it was difficult to grope your way down into the bowels of the ship and find your own bunk in the dark (Pottle)."

Eating aboard ship.

"We were thirteen days on the way, and had had a great deal too much of ocean travel after three or four... Of all lands and cities, is any lovelier than Brittany or more picturesque than Brest?...France at last (Pottle)!" 

My heart is tender as I think of this honorable young man leaving home to serve his country in a conflict meant to end further wars. He is so concerned about helping others and living clean while he does so. Much bloodshed and horror, mustard gas and ill health are in his future. His family is forever grateful to this stripling warrior and all the other patriots and pioneers we memorialize this weekend.

Note:

History of Leslie T. Foy in World War I by Inez F. Barker.

Stretchers by Fred Albert Pottle.

The photograph of Belgium refugees fleeing into Holland was found on the Kings Academy site by Miles Hodges http://www.kingsacademy.com and attributed to Abbot, p. 43. Further citation information is welcome.