A history of United States Army Base Hospital No36 (Detroit College of Medicine and Surgery Unit) organized at Detroit, Michigan, April 11th, 1917 . ng these presentswas an immense fruit cake baked and contributed by Mrs. George E. Potter. A similargift was sent to the Harper Unit. The officers of this organization were: President, Bell; Secretary, Mrs. T. P. Camelon; Treasurer, Mrs. H. Wellington Yates; Execu-tive Officer, Mrs. J. H. MacMillan. When the boxes were ready they were sent to the C. headquarters at Shelby Street and shipped with the other cases. When the shadow of wa
A history of United States Army Base Hospital No36 (Detroit College of Medicine and Surgery Unit) organized at Detroit, Michigan, April 11th, 1917 . ng these presentswas an immense fruit cake baked and contributed by Mrs. George E. Potter. A similargift was sent to the Harper Unit. The officers of this organization were: President, Bell; Secretary, Mrs. T. P. Camelon; Treasurer, Mrs. H. Wellington Yates; Execu-tive Officer, Mrs. J. H. MacMillan. When the boxes were ready they were sent to the C. headquarters at Shelby Street and shipped with the other cases. When the shadow of war was over our country, in our hearts a Merry Christmas washardly possible, nor could we anticipate an entirely Happy New Year. We knew the vic-tory and peace we desired could not be obtained without struggle and sacrifice. We en-tered the war with complacent self assurance and enthusiasm, qualities that had to be re-placed with grim determination. Co-operation and co-ordination were the ends towardwhich we had to strive, and working together heart and soul for those over there was atonce our inspiration and salvation. Esther Longyeae State Fair Grounds. AN EPISODE OF THE LATE WARIn Two Parts EntitledWAS IT THE DUC DE ROHAN ? Dedicated To George Sackrider (My Old Side-Kick) By George E. Fay 1922 Part OneAT THE FRONT Life with the A. E. F. in France gave to almost every American soldier, numerous personalexperiences of one sort or another, the sum total of which cloaks his memory in that indefinablefabric of romance, which, if he possess imagination, will accompany him always and fill his dayswith interest to the end. Dreams—hazy impressions—vague recollections—inspired perhaps by the damp of meltingsnow—by the fragrant odor of a cigarette in the cool, crisp air, or perchance the soft scrapingof a match-box—presto, you see your old comrade, George, once more seeking the solace of apuff or two in the shadowy dimness of your tent, after the passage of the German
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