By Franklin F. Holbrook and Livia Appel
Almost two months, from August 22 to October 15, 1917, were consumed in assembling the national guard of Minnesota at Camp Cody. In some cases detachments proceeded a little in advance of the units, to prepare the campsites for those who were to follow. The journey, occupying four or five days, was regarded as something of a lark, for much of the country through which they passed was new to many of the boys from Minnesota towns and prairies. In holiday mood they clambered off the train when it made occasional stops and relaxed their bodies after many hours of wearisome riding.
A strange sight met their eyes as they alighted from the trains that had been shunted on to the tracks extending out to Camp Cody. They saw a vast, level, sandy waste, upon which was appearing a mushroom growth – long rows of wooden mess halls facing streets that seemed to stretch away interminably; innumerable rows of tents; huge frame warehouses, some of them still in process of construction and surrounded by loose lumber and other building debris; and gray, dusty patches of mesquite and yucca in spaces ultimately to be cleared for drill grounds. Looking beyond his immediate surroundings in almost any direction, the arriving soldier saw great masses of mountains rising abruptly, without foothills, from the plains, like great barren slagheaps from some primeval furnace. Toward the south, apparently just beyond the village of Deming, rose the Florida Mountains in a jagged range, which – many of the men were soon to discover – were actually about twenty miles distant. Far to the south, overlooking the Mexican border, might be seen the Tres Hermanas, or ” Three Sisters,” blue and low-lying in the distance. To the north was Cook’s Range, a barren looking pile culminating in Cook’s Peak, which seemed to peer right down into Camp Cody. Out over the desert were isolated green patches-perhaps a few trees and growing crops – indicating the presence of irrigated tracts. All this the northern guardsmen saw if the day were fine. If it were stormy, he saw little but a gray blur and heard no sound but the sifting and grating of fine sand and the sustained and mournful shriek of the wind blowing through wires and about mess-hall corners. The dominant color tone was a yellowish gray, shading into purple; the sand was yellow under sunlight and gray under cloudy skies; shadows and mountains showed blue and purple. – Published by the Minnesota Historical Society – Saint Paul, 1928









