War and Influenza Epidemic :: Creative Writing Essays

A involve from the Chelsea nautical Hospital BOSTON, September 12, 1918 deargonst Journal, The Great War rages on. An flu epidemic claims the lives of several Americans. But, the Boston blood-red Sox have done it again. stand firm night, in a 2-1 victory eitherplace the Chicago Cubs at Fenway leafy vegetable (thanks to Carl Mays three-hitter), the Boston Red Sox won their one-fifth World Series championship--amid wipeout and disease, a reason to live ... baby Ruth and the 1918 Red Sox. If I die today, at least I lived to see the Sox win the championship. For, it could be a pertinacious, long, time before this happens again. From the Chelsea Naval Hospital, overlooking the Boston Bay, I sip on a cupful of Joe and browse over the Sports atom of the Los Angeles propagation. Earlier this month, three Bostonians dropped dead from influenza. In examining the extent of the epidemic, Surgeon-General Blue commented to the Times , People are stricken on the streets, while at bat in factories, shipyards, offices or elsewhere. First in that location is a chill, then feverishness with temperature from 101 to 103, headache, backache, reddening and running of the eyes, pains and aches all(prenominal) over the body, and general prostration. I gaze out my window, the sun seems brighter than prevalent and the township more radiant. It mustiness be the victory, for the threat of death collectible to influenza is pervasive. Outside, children jump rope. With every skip of the jump rope they chant. I had a little bird. Skip. Its prenomen was Enza. Skip. I opened up the window. Skip. And in-flu-enza. here at the Chelsea Naval Hospital, the inflow of patients arriving home from the war inflicted with battle wounds and indian mustard gas burns, has created a dearth of docs and it is becoming increasingly difficult to weigh this influenza. Even our own physicians are falling ill from the disease and dying within hours of its onset. Today I received a letter from Dr. Roy, a friend and fellow physician at Camp Devens, who describes a comparable situation We have disjointed an outrageous number of Nurses and Drs., and the little town of Ayer is a sight. It takes Special trains to exact away the dead. For several days at that place were no coffins and the bodies piled up something fierce, we employ to go down to the morgue (which is barely back of my ward) and look at the boys laid out in long rows .War and Influenza Epidemic Creative Writing EssaysA View from the Chelsea Naval Hospital BOSTON, September 12, 1918 Dear Journal, The Great War rages on. An influenza epidemic claims the lives of several Americans. But, the Boston Red Sox have done it again. Last night, in a 2-1 victory over the Chicago Cubs at Fenway Park (thanks to Carl Mays three-hitter), the Boston Red Sox won their fifth World Series championship--amid death and disease, a reason to live ... Babe Ruth and the 1918 Red Sox. If I die today, at least I lived to see the Sox win the championship. For, it could be a long, long, time before this happens again. From the Chelsea Naval Hospital, overlooking the Boston Bay, I sip on a cup of Joe and browse over the Sports Section of the Los Angeles Times. Earlier this month, three Bostonians dropped dead from influenza. In examining the extent of the epidemic, Surgeon-General Blue commented to the Times , People are stricken on the streets, while at work in factories, shipyards, offices or elsewhere. First there is a chill, then fever with temperature from 101 to 103, headache, backache, reddening and running of the eyes, pains and aches all over the body, and general prostration. I gaze out my window, the sun seems brighter than usual and the town more radiant. It must be the victory, for the threat of death due to influenza is pervasive. Outside, children jump rope. With every skip of the jump rope they chant. I had a little bird. Skip. Its name was Enza. Skip. I opened up the window. Skip. And in-flu-enza. Here at the Chelsea Naval Hospital, the influx of patients arriving home from the war inflicted with battle wounds and mustard gas burns, has created a shortage of physicians and it is becoming increasingly difficult to fight this influenza. Even our own physicians are falling ill from the disease and dying within hours of its onset. Today I received a letter from Dr. Roy, a friend and fellow physician at Camp Devens, who describes a similar situation We have lost an outrageous number of Nurses and Drs., and the little town of Ayer is a sight. It takes Special trains to carry away the dead. For several days there were no coffins and the bodies piled up something fierce, we used to go down to the morgue (which is just back of my ward) and look at the boys laid out in long rows .