1918

TW: Contains death

1918

Bitter, blustery, brutal. The billowy snow never let up all of January and February. Drifts up to the eaves. Wiggly white tunnels burrowed to the outhouses, the hog pens, the chicken coups. Homemade snowshoes were woven to navigate to the neighbors milking barn once the mule couldn't pull the sled through the winter wonderland. The record setting cold cut through the sheepskin coats and crusted the breath on whiskers, eyebrows and hair. Toes tingled in spite of woolen stockings layered in leather boots. Fingers faltered in performance of familiar tasks.

Coal shortages plagued the northern plains of South Dakota where not enough trees forested the land. All life seemed frozen in a snow globe unable to escape. Folks throughout the region, throughout the country, even throughout the world wondered if they could survive.

Serious conditions were felt more severely considering the world was at war. Sacrifices needed to be made to support the war effort. People who had nothing to give gave even more to help their sons across the oceans. In the cities women left their home hearths to manufacture munitions and machinery. Rural farmers were pressed to provide food for the masses. Even though patriotism soared, morale wavered.

About the time winter was loosening its icy grip another evil enemy raised its menacing head. Every winter season presents its own flavor of illness yet hospitals, country physicians and mothers all band together to combat and conquer the woes. But the season of 1918 created a new foe unlike anything since the plague wiped out much of Europe's population.

No one could pinpoint exactly from where it came. Some suspected a remote U.S. Fort in Kansas as a likely source. Made sense because servicemen were training there then sent home to say farewell before they were shipped overseas and into the world. Did the trail of sickness follow them where ever they traveled and spread far and wide? Even so, somehow the malady became known as the blue flu because it turned the faces of victims a spooky ashy blue color and the lungs when examined after death were spongy and blue. More curiously it was also was called the 'Spanish flu' even though Spain never entered the war. Symptoms mimicked common flu ailments of fever, cough, and sore throat. Some survived those. Once the blue appeared they were likely to die within three days.

Private First Class of U.S. Army Engineer Corps Frederick O'Reilly became familiar with the blue faces he pulled from trenches on the front lines of Europe and transported on his double-decked motorcycle sidecar ambulance back to the meager hospital behind the lines.

Many did not survive. The first wave started in March of the year 1918 but it peaked in September and October of that year to the point that more soldiers died of the Spanish Flu than from bullets. Luckily, by the grace of God, Frederick developed an immunity to the illness. Because letters back and forth from home were so scarce Frederick never learned of the suffering of his community back in South Dakota until the war was finally over in November and he could return to the arms of his loved ones.

Winter conditions raged on well into March of the infamous year at the O'Reilly homestead. Not unusual as the family remembered but they were felt more harshly due to the coal shortage. There was never enough to keep the cold out of the house. Children stayed bundled throughout the day as they did their school lessons around the kitchen table and Patrick took pity on his clan and did not demand they go outside to help with the chores of farm life. He insisted it kept him warmer the more he worked.

Patrick only took fifteen-year-old Daniel with him over the crusty hills to help his elderly friend and neighbor, Jan Lammert, milk his twenty-four Holsteins. He saw less and less of Jan's wife, Hattie, during his visits.

“Hattie still not feeling well, Jan?” Patrick asked.

“Got a nasty cough that has plagued her all winter. I don't want her out in this cold. Even Black Feather gave up his tepee to come into the barn here this season. Both he and his daughter, Blue Bird, would be welcome in the house but he is stubborn. Would save fuel if he came inside. What can I do?”

“Keep him happy, I guess. Little Maggie sent over the butter she churned.”

“Sounds like she is such a good little worker. I know we miss seeing her and the other two boys. Is everyone staying well in this miserable weather?”

“Staving off the normal sore throats and sniffles. It is cold in the house most of the time.”

“You happy not running the forge this winter, Daniel?”

“Doing my part conserving fuel. Will have plenty of work once the warm weather, if the warm weather, ever comes back.”

“Right you are, Son.”

The laundress, Blue Bird, came running from the house. “Sorry, Mr. Lam, Mrs. not looking good. Turn blue. Come, please.”

“Oh, dear! Will you excuse me, Fellas?”

“No problem. Go to your wife. We can finish up here and get the milk into the separator for you.” Patrick assured him.

As they finished up Blue Bird came back out to the barn with frozen tears in her eyes. “She gone, she gone to Spirit in the sky.” She cried.

Black Feather started chanting a lament.

Patrick tried comforting Blue Bird to no avail. “You stay with her, Daniel. I need to go to Jan.”

Patrick went inside the house and found Jan in the bedroom hugging and rocking his wife of fifty-plus years. “No, no, Sweety. It's not time for you to leave me, yet. We have many good years still to go. You can't be gone. Please take a breath.”

But Patrick could see she was so cold she was blue in the face. He put his arm around Jan and led him from the room. “She is in the arms of Jesus now, Friend.”

Patrick spent much of the next few days helping Jan deal with the grief of losing his beloved wife. No funeral could be held yet because travel was impossible. Even burial had to wait for the ground to thaw. Patrick did the twice a day milking along with his chores at home caring for chickens and hogs.

Within days Jan was exhibiting signs of flu. Not wanting his children or wife, Leona, exposed Patrick cared for him. Jan was not improving and soon showed that dreadful blue mask. He discussed the situation with Raymond McCormick, owner of the ranch they worked and Jan's son-in-law. Raymond explained what that might mean. Two days later, Jan joined his wife.

Patrick refused to spend time with Lenora or the children less he became sick. He stayed at the Lammert farm house continuing to care for the cows. The boys assumed the duties at their home.

One breezy and chilly late March day that only held patches of snow on the ground, Patrick called out to his sons from a distance as they were working in their yard. He asked them to bring their mother and little sister, Maggie, outdoors but do not approach him. He turned his ashy blue face toward them and shouted out how much he loved all of them but he must answer the call of his Lord and Savior. He would be going home soon.