WORLD WAR I - John Eddie Roberts - Coke County, TX

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Submitted by Mary Love Berryman - marylove@tyler.net
23 Sep 2000
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The Observer/Enterprise, 24 Dec 1999, Robert Lee, TX

REFLECTIONS OF THE PAST

Brenda Hines typed the following story from an 80 year old Robert 
Lee Observer dated Nov. 7, 1919.  It is about my grandfather John 
Eddie Roberts from Robert Lee.  He left the old railroad depot, as 
a young man, to serve his country in World War I.  He was in the 
navy and trained in San Pedro, CA.  That base is no longer in use.  
The family has photos taken while on his duties in California, and 
of early day sites in Alaska, of whales, and sites in the Aleutian 
Islands, and many letters.

Mr. Roberts only remaining child, Wilma Roberts Scott, resides in 
Bronte.

SOS.  Never was there a more urgent and hopeless cry for help 
radioed across spaces from the far north than that from the flu 
stricken inhabitants of Unalaska, which was picked up by the U. S. 
Revenue Cutter Unaiga wireless, as she plied her way north, one of 
Uncle Sam's silent watchers of the coast.

Far north, near the tail end of the 88, "Land that Gold got" lays 
the little village of Unalaska, one of the Aleutian groups.  Just a 
narrow strip of coast line, some half mile in length shows all there 
is of the villaage, composed of a few modern buildings, the remainder 
being "barasabas" or native huts; the population a few hands full of 
white mostly government employees, the rest of the 360 habitants 
being Aleuts.

Such peaceful, snug, little community out there on the "edge of the 
beyond" till one day in early May, like a bolt from the sky, more 
fearful and overwhelming than an avalanche from their own snow covered
mountains descended upon them the dread plague influenza, with such
suddeness that for the first few days they did not realize what had 
befallen them.

By the third or fourth day more than half the population were stricken
and a feeling of helplessness akin to terror settle upon them as they
pictured themselves a mere handful of souls alone in the relentless 
grip of the dreaded foe of the twentieth century.

There they were 2,000 miles from civilization, their only doctor, one 
of the first flu victims, the few white women too ill in bed to 
fulfill a woman's mission of ministering angel, the babies and 
children uncared for.  Their loneliness and remoteness increased the
sense of disaster as each day brought fresh victims and more deaths.

Uncivilized, dirty in their habits and bodies, underfed from lack of 
fresh food, the natives offered little resistance to the disease and 
their plight grew more pitiful every hour.

Urgent indeed was their massage for help further north they knew whole 
villages had to be wiped out by flu for need of skilled aid.

No sooner was the message read by the Unalga's Captain Dodge that the 
engines throbbed out their reply to the order for full speed for the
Unalaska and across the Berring Sea.

So frought with treacherous passages and sudden fogs, raced the game
little cutter, every man from captain to the cabin boy preparing for 
the grim last fight ahead.

On arrival at Unalaska they found the entire population of some 360 
souls stricken with the flu and only very inadequate help at hand 
into the fray, organizaing their forces in order to give the maximum 
aid in the shortest time.

In a very few hours the ship's surgeon had attended the worst cases, 
established a local hospital, stationed "gobs" at the various houses
where the inmates needed nursing and issued orders for the burial of
the dead.

Officers and men alike regardless of rank, working night and day to
dispose as soon as possible of the accumulated dead, some very dead,
and half eaten by malamute dogs.  Coffins were built, roughly and
quickly, and back on the side of a snow clad hill the remains of the 
flu victims were laid to rest  as one of the officers read a simple 
service at the gravesite.

With the care of the sick well under control the next problem was 
what to do with the children, many of them orphans and quiet uncared
for.  A thorough inspecation of the barabaras brought to light some
50 kiddies of all ages, down to babies of a few weeks old, all very
dirty, some to the point of starving and many wild-eyed from fear of
the dogs, half husky, half wolf, grown fierce each day in their search
for human flesh.

The children were brought to the European part of the village and 
installed in an empty wooden house, which had been cleaned and aired 
by the "gobs".  When the question arose who is to take charge of the 
dirty little imps it just naturally fell to the lot of Pete, the 
master of arms.  Greek by birth, a born fighter of men, and protector 
of all things helpless and small.  On board it was always Pete who as
a matter of course took unto his big heart the pets of the ship.

So Pete it was to whom fell the responsibilities of caring for the
orphans of the "USS UNALGA ORPHANS HOME."  With the aid of some "gobs" 
he took them in turn and bathed and clothed them.  Those children who 
had no clothing were laid flat on the bolt of material and their 
outline penciled.

The garment was then cut out and sewn together and if not the latest
fashion was surely a perfect fit.

When it came to bathing the babies Pet scratched his head and wondered
how, finally he decided that the art of bathing the dogs and babies 
must be the same so taking each howling infant in turn he held it with
one hand firmly by the scruff of the neck and scrubbed it down with
warm water and soap with the other hand.

When the native women were canvalescent enough to walk down to see 
the children they almost had a relapse on hearing of Pete's nautical
bathing performances, declaring loudly that he would kill them, the
natives are not fond of water.

With the sick people and children properly taken care of the next task
was the cleaning up the native barabaras.  They were built for the 
most part of earth.  Very often they are dugouts on the side of the 
hill.  They are for the most part unspeakably dirty, and alive with
vermin, so in cases where inhabitants had all succumbed to the flu the
contents of the barabaras were burned as the only sure means of 
disinfecting them.

With Unalaska was convalescent and the survivors from the flu were 
getting down to normal life again, the Unalga continued her mission of
mercy some 600 miles further up the Alaskan coast, at the entrance of
the Nushagat River.

Here they found the natives practically wiped out by the flu and their
work was chiefly a matter of inspecting the various native villages 
along the banks of the river burning the barabaras and burying the 
dead.

Some of the bodies had been lying there for weeks and many were eaten
entirely by the dogs.  The dogs had become very savage and it was 
necessary to send shooting parties

(This is the part I don't have.)

Unalga were heroic, but as flu fighters they were Christ like, for 
they were fighting a grim foe for which ninety-nine percent of them 
were not equipped with even the necessary knowledge for self 
protection.

(Editors Note:  Eddie Roberts passed away in 1946.)

Permission granted by Observer/Enterprise for publication in the
Coke County TXGenWeb Archives