The war record of the Fifth Company, New England Regiment, Second Plattsburg Training Camp — Key Ideas to Explore

The Foreword's Honest Disclaimer

The foreword, signed by the Fifth Company Records Committee, is the most revealing part of the book. It states plainly that the record would have been “of far greater interest” if published in November 1917, before the war ended. This is not false modesty; it is a structural confession. The book is a retrospective compilation, assembled from letters and reports after the fact, and the committee acknowledges that many details were lost or never known. The foreword also asks readers to “overlook” errors and omissions, blaming the difficulty of making a “perfect and complete record.” This admission shapes how every entry should be read: as an incomplete snapshot, not a definitive account.

The Sparse Biographical Template

Each entry follows a rigid template: permanent address, business address, present occupation, and a “Last heard from” date (usually May 1922). The military record then begins with the officer's commission date and proceeds through assignments, often listing camps and units without explanation. For example, Oliver James Schoonmaker’s entry notes he attended Army Schools at Langres, France, then served with the 60th Infantry in the Anould Sector, then was detailed to the French General Staff College—but gives no sense of what he actually did there. The template prioritizes administrative data over personal experience. The uniformity of the format makes the few deviations—like Cole’s wound description—stand out sharply.

Wounds and Overseas Service as Markers

Only a minority of entries mention wounds or combat. James P. Cole’s leg wound is described in clinical detail: “left leg shattered above the knee and a small hole in shoulder.” Others, like George E. O’Brien, list only stateside assignments at Camp Dix and Camp Gordon, with no overseas service. The contrast is stark. Some men sailed on troopships like the H.M.S. Olympic, which rammed and sank a German submarine during the voyage; others never left the United States. The record does not explain why some saw front-line action while others did not, but the pattern suggests that the company’s members were dispersed across many units and roles, from infantry to Air Service to depot brigades.

The Postwar Addresses as a Silent Census

Each entry ends with a permanent address and a business address, often in small towns or cities across New England and beyond. John M. Parker lists Hartford, Connecticut; Charles Parsons gives Kennebunk, Maine, and a New York City business address. These addresses, paired with the “present occupation” field (e.g., “Assistant Professor of Mathematics,” “Chair Manufacturer,” “Sales Engineer”), provide a snapshot of the men’s postwar lives. The “Last heard from” date of May 1922 suggests the committee made a concerted effort to track survivors five years after the training camp. The addresses are not just directory data; they imply a network of correspondence that underlies the entire project.

Reading this record requires adjusting expectations: it is a reference work, not a memoir. The most useful approach is to compare entries side by side, noting which men served overseas, which were wounded, and which remained in the United States. The foreword’s apology for incompleteness should be taken seriously—gaps in the record are not necessarily gaps in the men’s experience. The book is best used as a starting point for further research into individual service records, rather than as a standalone account of the company’s war.