Manuscripts/Mixed Material [J. D. Mashburn]
“It was called a 1,200-bed hospital, but during the flu epidemic we had more than 4,000 patients, on an average. We worked like dogs from about seven in the morning until the last patient of the day had been checked in or out - usually about 10 o'clock that night. The men died like flies, and several times we ran out of boxes to bury them in, and had to put their bodies in cold storage until more boxes were shipped in. It was horrible.”
“Did you get the flu?”
“No. They sprayed us two or three times a day with something, and very few of us in the hospital unit got sick.”
After about three months in Alabama, the unit was sent to New York, en route to France. Having arrived in Liverpool, the company went to an overnight camp near Birmingham.
“We were already sore at the whole world, and when we reached the tents assigned us, there weren't even any cots to sleep on. We had to roll up in our blankets on the ground.”
“Don, the boys in the trenches had a tough time, too,” I said.
He replied, emphatically, “But the blasted war was over, and had been for two weeks. We should have been in the