US Troops on the Texas-Mexican Border
1916

The first argument I ever had with my Father was over the question of whether I would enlist in the United States Army. I was 9 years old.

In June of 1916, I was just an 'old farmer boy', about 19 years old, working on a dredge boat over in Missouri. I had hurt my hand in April, and was in charge of a gang of native woodsmen, who were clearing timber from the right-of-way for a new levee along the river. Bill, an old side kick, had drifted in, in the latter part of May, and after working about two days had dropped an ax on his foot, cutting it so badly that he had to go to a hospital in a nearby town to recover.

In June of 1916, President Wilson called out the Missouri National Guard, on account of a national emergency that had developed along the Texas-Mexican Border. Company 'B', Second Regiment of Infantry, of the National Guard of Missouri in Nevada, the town where Bill was recovering, was on an intensive drive for recruits, and Bill had enlisted. He put on his new khaki uniform and came down to the levee where I was working and gave me a sales talk. I quit my job and went to Camp Clark, near Nevada, and asked to be enlisted. The officer in charge of enlistment was called "Tink". He asked me how old I was, and I told him "I'll be twenty in August". He thereupon refused to enlist me without my parents consent. Then he told me to come back when I was a little bit older. He didn't say how much older I ought to be, so I walked around the tent and came back a few minutes later. This time I said I was "21 on the 15th of June". This time I was enlisted without any trouble at all. "Tink" looked at me once and asked if he "hadn't seen me some place or other."

After I enlisted a bunch of us were lined up and the oath was administered. Neither age nor travel, can ever dim my re-collection of that oath: "...to protect her against all her enemies whomsoever."

Right after we were given the oath a fellow with a star on his shoulder lined us up and read the Articles of War to us. Now the Articles of war didn't make much of an impression on most of us, except for the phrase "...death, or such other punishment as a Court Martial may direct". That stuck in my memory.

A young sergeant marched us over to a supply tent, and a big fat fellow inside threw a batch of clothing and equipment at us. As I was small and slender most of the clothing I caught fit me pretty well, except for the shoes. They were a size 5, and I wore a 9 1/2. I traded around for awhile, and by paying a little bit to boot I finally found a pair that fit. I found out later that the Supply Sergeant made quite a bit of change by issuing misfit clothes to recruits, and then sending a pal around later to exchange something that fit...for a price.

After we were dressed a bugle called, and we were herded on a line for retreat. The Captain yelled something about "ARMS" and I brought my rifle to my "Right Shoulder". A Sergeant behind me jerked the rifle off my shoulder, and later explained to me that the Captain had said: "Present, ARMS!" This Sergeant spent some time explaining things to me and then told me to report to the kitchen next morning for police work. I had always wanted to be a policeman!

Supper that night was an uneatable mess of hard spuds, black coffee, beans and some soggy dough the Sergeant told me was bread. After supper I went into a tent and got into a crap game with a bunch of the fellows. A Sergeant took me for about $70, and then I noticed an extra pair of dice in his hand. I climbed across the table and got my money. I bruised my knuckles pretty bad on him, so I took a few dollars extra off him for damages. This Sergeant never liked me from then on, and seldom missed a chance to deal me misery. And he could!

One of the Corporals sent me across the reservation one day to get a couple quarts of strap oil for the Captain, and it must have been a lot of fun for the boys, because they didn't forget about it for several months. Of course I never found the strap oil, but I did bring back a nice black eye which I presented to the Corporal with little ceremony. He was very nice about it and gave me two black eyes in return.

The first Sunday that came along I got a leave, and went back home to tell the folks what I had done...and to say goodbye. Mother didn't say much, she just cried a little. Dad was out in the wheat field cutting wheat. He got off the binder and listened while I told him what I had done...he kissed me on the cheek...climbed back on the binder and drove away. His eyes were filled with tears, and even now I can remember how his whiskers scratched my face when he kissed me. I bawled all the way back to the camp.

Back at Camp Clark the crap-shooting Sergeant made life miserable for me. I carried enough rock to build several incinerators and dug enough latrines to furnish rumors for a whole army. And I drilled, too!

One day it was pretty cool and rainy, and the Captain lined us and told us to strip naked. After it had rained awhile someone drove up in a mule drawn ambulance wagon and gave each one of us a blanket. Then we marched clear across the reservation to a place where a couple of Doctors were standing under a stunted tree. They scratched our arms in three places and vaccinated us for Small Pox and then gave us an inoculation for Typhoid Fever. Several big strong men fainted as soon as they felt the needle. I laughed at them, until the Doctor stuck the needle in my arm...then I fainted too!

Bill and I went to town several nights and met some of the town girls. They showed us some of the things a good soldier can do besides fight. The things they taught were not hard to learn, and the girls were excellent teachers. Some of the boys took too many lessons and in about nine days they learned more about the matter. Bull Durham sacks started to take on an extra value! That's when I found out about gonorrhea.

One morning when it was raining hard, we were ordered to take down our tents, and then we loaded all our stuff on a troop train bound for a place in Texas. The train stopped in Kansas City and let all the boys off for exercise. It took several hours to round all of us up again, and from then on they wouldn't let us get off the train. The trip took about a week.

Once in awhile the train would stop in a town and all the girls in the town would come down to the train to "...see the soldiers". Many of them wrote their names on slips of paper and then gave it to some soldier so he could write to them. Some of them were very bold. I heard later that the Sergeants had a pretty good time in one of the baggage cars with some of them, but I wouldn't know for sure. In San Antonio the train stopped under a long shed and a committee of the local citizens brought all of us a lot of fresh fruit, and packages of decent food. Pretty girls gave the stuff to us, while their fathers and mothers stood around and watched. They unloaded several barrels of beer in one of the baggage cars, but the Officer's heard about it and confiscated it. For some reason the train remained all night in San Antonio, and we made the rest of the trip in daylight. They tried to post a guard that night so no one would leave the train, but they were too late. Everyone had already left.

The next day we went on farther south into Texas and finally stopped in Laredo. Laredo was a fairly nice looking sleepy sort of a place. They marched us out into the desert, on the edge of town, to make our camp. We used our bayonets and bolos to clear away the mesquite and cactus so we could set up our tents. The cooks used the mesquite for fuel to cook up a batch of slumgullion, made out of spoiled beef and rotten potatoes. We ate the stuff and some Texas watermelons. Of course we all got diarrhea, and since their were no latrines, we all had to go into the brush to get relief. Many of the citizens and their families were present to watch us make camp. Our enforced exhibition disgusted some of them and they went home. One very nice Mexican woman went into the brush and offered to hold the soldier's heads while they strained. Several took advantage of her offer.

It was almost a month before we had enclosed bathhouses, and every night after drill was over we would have a large audience to watch us take our showers. Some of us were rather backward at first, but we finally decided we could stand it, if the natives could. One of the boys had worked in a service station before he enlisted and he called our gang the 'battery chargers'.

We finally got the camp all fixed up and settled down to the routine of Army camp life. Thanks to the crap-shooting Sergeant I had my share of work. They sent me to the kitchen once to scrub pots and pans. I told a little story about the Mess Sergeant's sister to the other boys, and the Mess Sergeant ran me out of the kitchen with a meat cleaver, and told the 'Top Cutter' (slang for First Sergeant) to keep me out of his kitchen. The 'Top' then put me on a work detail hauling dirt. One day the Sergeant in charge pushed a shovel out from under me and I hit him with a pick handle. After he got out of the hospital he took Bill and me down to the Camp Quartermaster to help load some oats. The oats were in sacks, with each sack holding five bushels. I got awkward one day and dropped one of these sacks about 15 feet and it lit on the Sergeant's head. They kept me away from the Camp Quartermaster after that.

Next, they put me to driving six mules strung-out on a forage wagon. This was fine work. One day the mules got scared, when Bill shot at a buzzard a couple of times, and they wanted to run. I pushed on the lines, while Bill fired his pistol and the mules ran about 18 miles before they got good and tired. A wet-eared Veterinary Officer at the stable raised hell because the mules came in sweaty and hot. He talked a lot about a Court Martial, but Bill and me swore we couldn't stop the mules when they wanted to run, so we got off. But they wouldn't let me drive mules any more.

It seems like the Captain was charged personally with all the equipment in the outfit, and he was way short I heard. One day he had all his torn and no-good stuff piled up in a pile beside the path to the latrine, and then covered the stuff with straw. The idea was that a "Survey" Officer would come along and make a list of all the unserviceable stuff and then order it burned. Then the Captain could draw new stuff. The Captain told me to go down and watch this pile of stuff so no one would accidentally set it on fire before the surveying officer looked it over. I lit a cigarette, and I guess I must have dropped the match in the straw and the whole pile of stuff burned before we could get the fire put out. The Captain gave me a terrible bawling out in front of the Surveying Officer. Then the Captain swore on his honor as an Officer and a Gentleman: that every single thing he was short had been in that fire! That night the Captain called me into his tent and gave me a Five Dollar Bill.

One day a call came from Camp Headquarters for a couple of men to walk a beat in the Red Light District. This was supposed to be a slick job and the Top Cutter was going to give it to a couple of his friends. I went up to the Captain's tent and asked him whether he had heard any more about the fire, and the Captain told the Top Cutter to let an Old Regular named "Red" and I have job in the Red Light District. They called us Provost Guards.

The Red Light district then was about the size of a small town in Kansas. With 15 or 20 thousand soldiers in the area the girls did a right fair business. Our job was to prevent fights and riots if we could. Red and I hadn't been on duty over 5 minutes before someone yelled for the guard, and we busted our way into a shack just in time to see a big naked soldier fire the contents of a 45 caliber automatic pistol into the middle of a naked woman. He claimed she had kicked him on his appendicitis scar. She was a messy thing after she died and we had quite a time getting the soldier out of the way before the Officer of the Day arrived. Red and I were detailed to search for the soldier who had killed the woman, but we never found him. He used to come around every payday and show his appreciation.

Duty in the Red Light district wasn't hard...after we got onto the ropes. Several places were forbidden to soldiers and we had some trouble with these places. After we learned how to swing a rifle butt against a man's head, we got along better. If a fight started in a house someone would yell for the guard, and Red and I would break down the door and wade in. One, night a call came from a place, and when we got to the door I was in front. I hit the door with the butt of my rifle and it flew open; pinning a whore between it and the wall. I went on in and she threw a knife at me, aiming at my neck. The knife slid past my ear and stuck in the calf of a cavalryman's leg right ahead of me. That knife sure looked funny when it hit that leg...the handle seemed to wave at me. We took care of this girl and went on into another room where the fight was. Someone had emptied a 45 into the chest of a big black woman...her breasts were shot up, and she was trying to die...but hating the job. Her big sweetie came in and started a riot, and before it was all over, the building had been torn down and scattered all over town. The Officer of the Day called out an entire company of troops to restore order. The Buck and the Wench were both dead when we left.

The Mexicans used to bunch up and live most any old place they could get that was out of the sun and rain. One night down in the District a building about 10x12 burned down...it had held 22 Mexicans.

They used empty tin cans for dishes. For furniture they had an empty box or two, and they slept on the floor. It sure was untidy. I don't know how true it is, but the boys used to tell me the Mexicans...some of them...were like rabbits. They would raise a family by one woman and just as soon as their daughters got big enough...and big enough is rather young down there, they would start on another round of 'family-raisin' with their daughters. Some families with one grown man would have 5 or 6 females all with suckling kids in their arms.

Red and I used to leave the District shortly after midnight and try to mooch a little liquor on the way home from work, so we could sleep good. One night a barkeeper pulled a fast one on us, and gypped us out of our last dollar. The next day was payday and Red and I borrowed a Twenty Dollar bill from the Captain. Red and I took this Twenty and a One we had, and went to the same saloon. Each one of us ordered a bottle of beer. I gave the barkeeper the twenty and Red gave him the one. The bartender went into the back room after change, and came out waving a handful of change and hollering: "Whose Twenty?" Red said it was his, and took the $19.85 change, and left. I drank my beer and asked the barkeeper for the change for my Twenty Dollar Bill and he claimed he had given it to me. Several of the soldiers standing around knew he hadn't given me my change so he dug up $19.85 and gave it to me. We tried it on him one more time. He paid off again but claimed he'd shoot us if he ever saw us inside his place again. We believed him and stayed away.

When we moved into Texas we slept on the ground...on the 19th of August they issued us cots and bed sacks. We filled the sacks with hay and figured we would sleep like white folks that night. Along about 11 o'clock -- just a few minutes after taps one of those Texas storms came up and blew our tents away. It also blew our clothing and bedding away. Red and I had stripped down so we could go out into the rain and try to hold the tent down. We couldn't hold it, so we were left naked. I dressed the next morning with stuff that was floating down a small stream. I can't remember just what I put on, but I remember I "found" a brand new Stetson hat that belonged to a detective from Kansas City. I think he is a General now -- thanks Skipper.

The Army...along in August...was experimenting with some new trucks they had just purchased, and we were one of the first Army outfits ever moved by trucks. The drivers were civilians from Detroit, and some of them couldn't even drive, but some could.

The Captain and I were talking one night about fires...and he told me we were to be moved to Zapata, and he thought it would be a good idea for me to ride the trucks. So I rode. The truck was well loaded, but I made the whole trip with my feet in a washtub. The tub belonged to one of the boys who made a lot of money doing the other fellows washing. Whenever a truck got stuck in the sand we had to wait until a company of soldiers came along to help pull us out. We had a big long rope, and whenever we got stuck someone would unload the rope and stretch it out ahead of us. The rope was about as big around as your wrist, and we finally hooked it on the truck and let it string along behind us. The whole trip took over two days to cross 60 miles of desert. (I drove over the same road the summer of 1941 in 50 minutes.)

I remember one of the trucks had a large low umbrella over the driver's seat so the boy from Detroit wouldn't get sunburned. Top speed of these trucks was about 10 miles an hour.

We went thru San Ignacio where the Mexicans had made the first large raid into the United States. They had hidden in the brush and fired on our troops as they were standing reveille, killing a lot of United States soldiers as they reached for their guns and clothing. We saw the grave of the Major who commanded the Mexicans. His grave was on the way to the latrine and the boys would set a GI Can over the grave every night after dark. One of the truck drivers paid $100 for a gun which someone had told him belonged to the Mexican Major. The gun had several notches on the handle. The truck driver used to try to shoot buzzards with the gun. He couldn't hit'em.

There was a great big black man on one of the ranches that claimed he had killed over a hundred Mexicans. He advised us to sleep in the brush that night and not show any lights so the Mexicans wouldn't creep up on us, and slaughter us while we slept. (I don't know why the ranch house was lighted until midnight.) A bunch of us went out into a melon patch and ate a lot of melons, then fired our rifles and claimed we had scared away a gang of heavily armed Mexicans. No one believed the story. My share of the melons came to $7.87 which the paymaster deducted on the next pay day. Melons were high in Texas in 1916.

Zapata was, and still is, the county seat of Zapata County. The Courthouse was located in the center of the square, and trenches were dug all around the Courthouse. It was a rainy season and the trenches were usually full of water. There were a lot of homemade dynamite bombs stored up on top of the Courthouse. About 300 people lived in Zapata. Over in Mexico a short distance was a town the Mexicans used to fight back and forth in, and about every day refugees would come over and tell us we were next.

Our outfit had guards out every night to watch the town and surrounding country. Every time a guard heard a racket in the brush he would fire his rifle and holler "HALT". Every time a shot was fired the Bugler would stick his bugle out from under the covers and blow "To Arms", and we would wrap several bandoleers of ammunition around our naked middles and fall out, into the trenches. When we hit the water filled trenches it sounded like frogs hitting a puddle…except maybe frogs don't cuss when they light. Usually we stayed in the trenches about two hours while patrols investigated and found out for sure the cause of the alarm. Red and I shot a burro one night and pushed him off into the Rio Grande. We wouldn't have shot him except he wore a bell and the bell kept us awake while we were on guard. I've still got the bell. (My father later gave it to his first grandson, Robert Wallace Lehnherr.)

Our camp was about a quarter of a mile away from the Rio Grande River, and some of us would go over into Mexico once in awhile. One day a bunch of us swam over and borrowed some clothes off a native and started inland to find out about the war. A Mexican detachment fired at us and we ran three miles and swam the river with just our noses sticking out. After that they sent a guard with us whenever we went to the river. We bathed in the river.

There was a hand operated ferry boat that crossed the river near Zapata, and we had to keep a guard on the US end of the ferry. Bill was on guard one day while I was asleep and a Mexican went across with $55,000 in United States currency. The fellow offered Bill $5.00 to let him go. Bill took it.

There was a big fellow in the company whose name I can't remember. He never took a bath and was getting ripe pretty fast. A bunch of us took him to the river one day and scrubbed him with sand, GI issue soap and a horse brush. After that he insisted upon his "bawth" every day. One time he was up for a sanity hearing and the doctor asked him whether any of his ancestors were crazy. The big fellow replied that he didn't have no ancestors because he took a bath every day.

One morning we all woke up so sick we could hardly move. Even the officers were sick. The Sheriff - - a fine old gentleman -- came over and looked at us. He laughed and told us we had "Dengue Fever". Our body's were red, and there were great big white and red blotches all over us. We wanted to die but didn't have ambition enough to shoot ourselves. Some of the good women of Zapata came into our camp and cared for us. Within a couple of days we were all right again. The Sheriff told us the fever was caused by a mosquito bite and that all white men had it in Texas.

Bill and Red and I were in the first squad tent right next to the Top Cutters tent. Once a week the trucks brought in about 50 pounds of ice and we would help the Sergeants buy and drink beer. Beer cost $1.00 for seven bottles, and we used to drink about 14 bottles a piece. A Deputy Sheriff ran the saloon, and he would sell us beer on time. We would get him into a poker game on pay day and get even with him.

We were all drilling in the patio one day and one of the fellows stole a jar of chewing gum out of a drug store, then hid the gum under my bed, and told the lieutenant I had stolen it, and where it was hidden. The lieutenant put me in the brig. The brig was plenty solid. There was a bullpen around a cell house and inside the cell house were cells. Inside the cells were lice. I was between the cells and the lice. The Major was gone and the Captain presided at my Court Martial. He gave me 'Ten Dollars and Ten Days' in the brig. The boy who stole the gum paid me the $10, and I beat the Sergeant Major out of his pay shooting craps through the bars. I served two days and the Captain paroled me. I won $200 in a crap game the day I got out.

The patio was a big square in the center of town, and about two nights a week the natives would promenade around the square. The senors and soldiers would also promenade, but in the opposite direction. If a senor saw a senorita he thought he might like he would turn around and fall in behind her. If she liked his looks, she would go on up to the corner and cut down a side street...him following after her. If she didn't like his looks she would fall out of line and get in behind him. They always got in behind me.

It started to rain very hard the morning we tore down our camp and rolled our blankets for a hike back to Laredo. There were no trucks to ride so I had to hike out with the rest of the soldiers. We camped on the wrong side of an arroyo one night, and the next morning the arroyo was full of fast running water. We waited until the next morning and then swam across it with our equipment rolled up and carried on our heads. Most of us made two or three trips. I remember the Major had a great big strawberry roan horse, and he and the Major went across together. Neither one could swim very well. I lost $235 in a crap game while we were waiting for the river to go down. The Captain loaned me some more.

Of course the delay caused us to run out of water and rations. The natives sold us water at two bits a glass, and bread at a dollar a loaf. Very few people in Texas are like that. On the way into camp we saw a new-fangled machine called a tractor. It was just being introduced by a daring manufacturer. Many funny remarks were made by the boys about farming without horses.

Back in camp discipline was rather relaxed. I got a job in the Regimental Canteen and furnished most of the outfit with cigarettes. It was against the rules for beer to be kept in the canteen, but a few of the Officers had a club they called the Mule Club...it kicked once a week. One day a little short General and his retinue came through the canteen on a surprise inspection trip. Of course he went directly to the ice box and saw the beer. He raised particular hell about it, and then ended his tirade something like this: "It is against regulations to have that stuff around...and it must be gotten rid of at once." So saying, the General uncapped a bottle of Blue Ribbon and drank it. His entire staff did likewise…and that's where that batch of beer went!

Some of the roads around Laredo were graveled. We used to hike about 12 miles a day...six miles out and then back. The Major hiked right along with us...riding on his strawberry roan! The hiking, a little bayonet drill, and a few setting up exercises was about all we had to do. Water from the Rio Grande was pumped into overhead flumes and used all around the area for irrigation. We used to swim in the flumes until the General put a stop to the practice. It seems that some of the natives complained...they used the water to drink.

There were at one time more than 10,000 US troops in Laredo. Many of them went home before we did, and it was left to us to guard the deserted latrines, mess halls, YMCA buildings, etc., that they left behind. We used to sell the buildings to trusting Mexicans for a few dollars and tell them to come get them after the troops left. One fellow sold a YMCA building for $150 and the Mexican who bought it went to the Colonel and tried to get the Colonel to throw in the piano.

One day someone found a bunch of copper wire and we wired all the tents for electricity. Another good Missourian found two trucks loaded with bricks. And we paved out streets and put a floor in the mess hall.

One day a permanent detail opened up over at Fort McIntosh. Red and I heard about it and asked the Top Cutter to send us over. All we did was help a fellow check a batch of ordnance supplies a departing outfit had turned in. One night after we left they missed a couple of pistols and three saddles. They didn't call us any more.

I had another friend named Walter. Walter and I got drunk …then tattooed one day, and we decided we would ask for a discharge from the outfit and enlist in a British Regiment that was being formed to go overseas to fight the Germans. Something must have gone wrong because when I sobered up I found out I was in a Signal Corps outfit over at the Fort. Walter was gone. The Captain and I had a little talk, and the Captain asked the Colonel to ask the General to transfer me back to 'B' Company and they all did.

The Colonel was a very nice gentleman from somewhere in Missouri, but he seemed to have it in for 'B' Company. One day he ran up to one of our file closer's and made him change step. The Colonel talked rather loud and said something like this: "Put your left foot down with the beat of the drum -- now you've got it -- what are you going to do with it." He liked to get several hundred yards away, and then yell: "What in the hell is the matter with 'B' Company." The Colonel was really a fine old man, and there are still a few hundred of us living who would "...walk through hell with him."

Time slipped away fast in camp. Rumors flew around about nearly everything. First we heard that we were going home…and then again, we heard we were not going home. Maybe Congress would send us right straight to Germany.

Then one fine day...the day after Christmas, and it was raining...we loaded up on the train and started north. It began to snow around Fort Worth, and kept snowing all the way to Fort Riley, except for a little stretch around Muskogee, Oklahoma. It was warm and sunny at Muskogee, and Red and I swiped a couple of overcoats and some shirts. We peddled them to a sanctimonious old gentleman with long white chin whiskers. Then that night some low-lifer stole the only shirt I had, and I was really sore. We arrived at Fort Riley with me in my undershirt, and I had to help unload a car of equipment in my undershirt. Try that sometime at Fort Riley on New Years Day! Of course I caught cold and was confined to barracks for a few days.

A woman ran a mess hall there for Officers only. She sent over for someone from 'B' Company to help her, and I went over. It was a nice job and she paid me $5 a week for helping her. That really helped.

On January 13th, 1917 they lined us up and told us we were "mustered out...until a further call of the President." I, and a bunch of the fellows had a little party that night, and I raised my right hand and swore that I now had plenty of experience in the Army, and that it would be mighty hard to get me back into it. My sentiments were the sentiments of all the gang. I then got on a train and went to Nebraska to go to work.

JLL

June Lodeen Lehnherr in World War I | Discharge (Front) | Discharge (Back)
Inspiration on the Battlefront | War in Mexico