Doughnuts for God: A Novel of a Salvation Army Squad in the Great War

By Tee Lander

Doughnuts for God is a novel set during the momentous times of the early twentieth century. The horrors of World War I, the fear, sorrow, danger, and suffering were beyond anything the five young women of the Salvation Army could imagine when they committed themselves to God's service. But when the United States entered the war, they felt called to follow the path of their charismatic and somewhat mysterious commander, Captain Flora Green, confident in her leadership and God's hand on their lives. They all bonded together during their service as "Doughnut Dollies" in the battlefields of France and afterward in hospitals, caring for the influenza victims back home while each of them coped with the aftereffects of the war's impact on their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798886448894

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Part 1

In the North End

Effie

Dorcas

The Roundhouse Right

Ida

The Fire of the Spirit

Mary

The Meeting

O Boundless Salvation

I Will Not Go Back

Two Bargains

Seek and You Shall Find

The Squadron Falls In

Storm Warnings

Call and Response

The Last Farewell

Part 2

Over There

On the Ship

The Voyage

On the First Day

At the Captain's Table

The Gates

Let Slip the Dogs of War

At the Target Range

A Fight that Wasn't

Floyd

The Doughboys and the Russians

A Bunch of Dishy Billies

Rats Like Cats

Slipping and Sliding

Two Great Countries

The Artist

The Red Flowers

With Honors

Attack!

The Telegraph

Why Do You Serve?

The Newcomers

The Letter

You Shall Know the Truth

Aftermath

Another Loss

Triage

At the Front

The Plagues of Egypt

Unspeakable

Awake

Sleeping Beauties, Daily Hate, and Keep Your Head Down

Her Guardian Angel

Drumfire

A Sudden Quiet

At the Train Station

Part 3

Rescue the Perishing

The Ranks of the Lost

The Angels of Death

Promoted to Glory

Final Arrangements

Her Services

Local Salvationist Laid to Rest

Flora's Family

New Battlefields

Part 4

Epilogue

Remainders

That Smell of Death

Their Burdens

Like a Swimmer

Reunion

The Art Show

Just in Time

About the Author

cover.jpg

Doughnuts for God

A Novel of a Salvation Army Squad in the Great War

Tee Lander

ISBN 979-8-88644-888-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88644-889-4 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 Tee Lander

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

War had been only history. It became a dread reality from which none of us who were, or became affected by it, would wholly recover.

—Signa Leona Saunders, Captain, Salvation Army

Acknowledgments

Writing any novel is a challenge, but a historical novel has its own unique challenges that require accuracy in the details of the narration, or else the story won't ring true.

For example, instead of having all characters' speech rendered in English, I have drawn upon friends to translate the language of different characters into their native tongues. I owe thanks to Shelly McAllister for the translation of the French soldier's remarks, Euguene Poplovski for the Russian speakers, and Steve and Gabi Lehman for correcting my high school German.

Other requirements included making sure all the cultural references were correct for the era. Effie's slang terms had to fit into the time period. For that, I drew on my recollections of stories my elders told of living back then. Songs all needed to be published prior to 1918. For military details, Chris Garcia of the Great War Association provided essential information on the structure of the American Expeditionary Forces in WWI, and Danielle Butler Worrell pointed me to reference materials about the Salvation Army's service in France. Additionally, her Salvation Army historical reenactment group gave me the impetus to imagine the story line for this work.

And of course, I must recognize my family who have been so supportive of my efforts in creating this novel and my family who have passed on that entertained me as a child with their stories of life in America during the World War I era.

Part 1

In the North End

Dusk and the shadows falling

O'er land and sea;

Somewhere a voice is calling,

Calling for me.

—Music of Arthur F. Tate,

lyrics by Eileen Newton,

Somewhere a Voice Is Calling (1911)

Effie

Effie woke up as she had so many other mornings, slowly trying to force her vague thoughts to focus. She ached and felt uncomfortable all over. There was a pressure on her forehead that she couldn't understand. She carefully lifted her head and realized she had been sleeping face down on a table. She looked around as through a broken, dirty window. She was in a tenement room she didn't recognize. Like many, it was a single room that had lacked cleaning for so long that the dirt had become a part of the furnishings, casting the entire room in a sickly grayish-brown color. In front of her was the table with a few bottles and glasses on it, some upright and others fallen over, their contents dribbled out and drying. A young woman she didn't know was sitting to the right of her, asleep, her head hanging down on her chest. To her left was a young man, also unknown to Effie, sitting sideways, resting his head on the chair back as if it was a pillow.

She was facing the door with light from the front window straining through old curtains behind her. An icebox with the door open, apparently no ice in it, was next to the door. To the right of the icebox was a sink and some open shelves with a dirty plate or two and a few cans of food.

Then Effie, or Pearlie, as she was known in the North End, realized that her view of the room was being made more difficult by a throbbing inability to get her left eye open. She stood up, a bit too abruptly. The room rocked and spun crazily around her, and she slapped the flat of her hands on the table to stabilize herself. After her dizziness faded, she walked over to part of a mirror that was hanging at a slant on the wall next to the sink. Her hair was swirled around her head, and her left eye was swollen almost shut with a greenish-yellow halo around it. She used her hands to make her hair a little more presentable and then went to the sink to gingerly pat some water on her face. There were no towels, so she dabbed the bottom of her skirt across her face.

Now she didn't know where she was, how she got there, who those two people were, or what fracas resulted in her shiner. She could remember nothing about the previous night that brought her to that place. She decided it would be simpler to review what she did know to make sure her head was clear.

She remembered who she was—Pearlie Mason. That was a good start. She remembered she was a part-time laundress, part-time seamstress, part-time bartender, part-time saloon singer, part-time pickpocket, part-time—well, that was as far as she needed to go right then.

She couldn't remember her last residence because she really didn't have a permanent one. She slept here and there in the North End, places like this, backroom cots in the local businesses, and received her mail as general delivery at the post office, as if she ever got any mail.

At that point, she decided to leave her stopover and her new unknown friends and tried to get her day started.

She walked out the door and then carefully down the stairs into the street. When she exited the building, the sudden contrast of the fresh air and bright sunshine to the dark stale tenement staggered her briefly, and she recoiled, bumping into someone.

Oh my! Pardon me! the woman said as she grabbed Pearlie to keep her from a worse stumble.

'Scuse me, Pearlie mumbled. She glanced at the woman as she started to move on, but then stopped to look at her more closely. She wasn't the usual kind of passerby seen in the North End. She looked to be somewhere in her early forties and had an odd kind of uniform on, dark blue, topped off by an old-fashioned bonnet. Peeking out from the edges of the bonnet were wisps of light brown, almost blond hair. Her face had a quiet beauty to it, with clear eyes and a slight smile. Pearlie didn't see a smile like that often. There was no mocking or sarcasm in it, no air of superiority or disdain. It was simply a smile of kindness and openness, characteristics rarely seen on those streets.

You look like you could use a cup of coffee, the woman said pleasantly. She made a sweeping gesture toward the street. My storefront is right over there.

Thanks, but I got no money, Pearlie mumbled.

Well, you needn't worry about that, the woman said with a slight chuckle. Her laugh was like her smile. It wasn't a mocking laugh and didn't seem to make Pearlie the target of an unspoken joke. It was just a quick, pleasant laugh at the situation. Come. There's always a pot on. We may as well drink it.

The woman hooked her arm in Pearlie's and led her across the street without waiting for an answer. Pearlie recognized the storefront. It had served many purposes, but it had been empty for a few months recently. Now it was quite different, with new paint and clean windows. There were some hanging banners in the windows she didn't bother to read. They walked through the doors and across the room, which had benches arranged in rows with a space to walk down the middle and some placards on the walls. At the end was a small platform with a simple bookstand on it.

They went through a door behind the platform into a room, which was a small kitchen. This room was just as sparse, but it was clean and fresh, in stark contrast to the room Pearlie woke up in. There was a gas stove with a low fire heating a kettle.

The woman took cups and saucers out of a cupboard and placed them on the table, which had a plain white tablecloth on it, and poured the hot coffee.

Cream? Or sugar? she said.

No, I'm fine, thanks, said Pearlie.

I'm Flora Green. And you? she said and looked at Pearlie with an expression that, while not demanding, expected her to answer.

Pearl…um…Effie, Mason.

Nice to meet you, Effie.

Nice name, Flora.

Yes, I don't know if it was my name that attracted me to flowers, but I've always had a special feeling toward them. I just love them. Some women like jewelry, some like beautiful clothes or furnishings, but I love flowers. They just seem to speak to me.

So you ended up in the North End?

Flora laughed her same short laugh. It was sincere, not faked for effect. Yes, I haven't seen any yet, but maybe we can make a few grow.

Well, it pretty obvious from that outfit that you're not a clothes horse. And what do you mean ‘we'? What's going on here?

Well, I'm in the Salvation Army, Effie. Have you heard of us?

Um, yeah, I guess. Maybe? But an army? An army for what?

Our founders, the Booths, felt that since Satan has his legions, then we should have an army of regular soldiers, not volunteers, to oppose him. And speaking of Satan, it looks like you've been having a tussle or two with him, said Flora, as she tapped her finger to her own eye.

Well, I—he's an old friend.

The pleasant kindness suddenly washed off Flora's face and was replaced with a look of firm determination. The melodious sound was also gone from her voice when she said flatly, Satan is nobody's friend, Effie.

Effie was startled and embarrassed by Flora's reaction to her answer and stumbled to clarify what she had said. Well…yeah, I…you know…I guess I meant…I just…I've run into him a few times.

Flora's pleasant voice and expression returned as fast as they had left. Haven't we all, Effie. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Now let me get you some ice for that shiner. I'll put some water on the stove so you can freshen up. More coffee? Flora went to the icebox and chipped a chunk of ice off the block, wrapped it in a clean dishrag, and handed it to her. Then she filled a large pan of water, put it on the stove, and laid a washcloth, soap, towel and brush on the counter next to the sink.

When the water was warmed, Effie washed herself, then let her hair down, and combed and reset it in the upswept fashion of the day. While she freshened up, they chatted. Effie gave Flora a sanitized version of her life in the North End, and Flora told her about her work for the Army as she called it.

Effie sat back down, and they had more coffee, along with some bread and butter, which Flora offered.

Effie hesitated, but then asked, Say, you…just what's the lowdown? You only met me a few minutes ago, and you're doing all this for me? What's the angle?

Flora smiled. There's no angle, Effie. You just looked like you needed a fresh start for the day, and I guess I wanted someone to have a cup of coffee with.

Effie narrowed her eyes. C'mon. You can't kid a kidder. What's the deal? Why me?

Flora chuckled again, turned her head slightly, smiled, and raised an eyebrow. Do you really want to know right now, Effie?

Effie was again caught off guard by Flora's response. She hesitated and then realized Flora was right. Now wasn't the time for her to hear Flora's answer, especially since she was still feeling the effects of the night before. Um, no, I guess not.

They finished their coffee. Flora gave her a fresh piece of ice for her eye and told her to come back any time. Effie thanked her, left, and hurried down the street. As she entered the saloon, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Flora wasn't watching and then shook her head in disgust for looking.

A boy in an apron was sweeping and straightening tables as the bartender was polishing the counter and setting up glasses for the day.

He looked up from the glasses and saw her. Hey, Pearlie! Where'd ya go last night?

She walked to the bar and rested her elbows on it. I ain't in the mood, Paddy. Just gimme a —— drink.

Dorcas

The alarm clock on the stand rattled Dorcas awake promptly at 5:30 a.m. She sat up and stretched, shook her long blond hair and got out of bed. She poured some water from the pitcher into a bowl on the dry sink and washed her face.

Dorcas could have walked down the hall and used the common bathroom, but she might get in the way of the boarders, so she found it simpler to wash the old-fashioned way. She put her hair up, picked out a long brown skirt, plain white shirtwaist, and dressed. Finally, she tied her shoes, put an apron on, and headed downstairs to start her day.

Dorcas thought about the day ahead and knew exactly how it would go. It would go just as yesterday, the day before, and tomorrow. She would spend her day cooking, cleaning, and shopping for the next day's meals for her mother's boardinghouse. With a little free time, she might walk through the park and in the evening do some reading before starting over again the next day.

She met her mother in the kitchen and they began breakfast. They put water on for coffee and then sliced ham and potatoes and began frying them. While that cooked, they sliced bread and set the long table in the dining room with dishes and flatware. Finally, they put out the plates of bread, potatoes, ham, butter, jellies, and assorted extras, along with a large pitcher of coffee. The boarders knew the time for breakfast and showed up promptly.

There was a mix of boarders, which changed occasionally over the year. Currently there were two sisters who worked in the city hospital, a young man that worked in an office downtown, a veteran from the civil war living off a pension, and a traveling businessman who preferred to keep a room paid and ready for his visits to the city rather than make reservations with hotels every time he came into town.

After breakfast, she went shopping for the fresh items they would need for the day. As she came back from the market, she saw a woman in a uniform on the sidewalk ahead of her putting a poster up on a board fence. She paused to read it over the woman's shoulder. The woman turned around and greeted her.

Hello. My name's Flora, she said as she held her hand out.

Dorcas shifted her bag to her other arm and shook her hand. I'm Dorcas. I just live a little way from here. My mother has a boardinghouse.

Oh really? said Flora.

Would you like to take a flyer home to show your boarders? We have nightly meetings, singing, a little preaching, some fellowship. You're welcome to come.

It was fascinating to talk to Flora so much so that Dorcas didn't even notice the weight of the grocery bag. It felt as if Flora was an old friend who was catching up on their lives after an absence. Dorcas told her a little about herself, and in response, Flora shared her work. Since Dorcas had already heard of the Salvation Army, Flora explained in some detail what the Salvation Army was doing in the North End.

Dorcas balked slightly when she heard the storefront was in the North End.

Oh! Do you think I should go there alone? she said.

Flora emitted a small pleasant laugh, but Dorcas could tell it wasn't at her concern for walking in the North End. You'll not be alone, Dorcas. It will be fine.

They said their goodbyes. Dorcas kept thinking about Flora and the Salvationist meeting as she walked home. She decided she would attend. She wasn't sure what Flora meant when she said she wouldn't be alone walking in the North End, but she felt some confidence that Flora was right.

The Roundhouse Right

Effie walked into Paddy's through the back. It was early morning, and Paddy was readying the bar for the day as usual. The boy that had been helping recently was nowhere around.

Hey, Paddy. Got any work?

Well, yeah, Pearlie. You can be sweepin' and settin' the tables. Kid hasn't showed up yet.

How much?

Quarter cash and double if you take it in drink.

No thanks, Paddy. I want the money. I'm saving up for a trip to Par-ee.

Well, hoity-toity! You ain't the same Pearlie I know, wanting the cash instead. What ya been up to, and how's come you're up so early? Is it that Salvation Army coleen?

She ain't half bad, Paddy. She's jake, not like those —— uptown women slumming with us at Christmas to make themselves feel better. Wouldn't hurt you to go listen to her sometime.

Well, I won't have the chance from what I hear.

That sounded suspicious to Effie. Whaddya mean?

Seems some of them saloon owners are losing business because of the Salvationist. They're going to ‘persuade' her to move on.

Why aren't you there? And whaddya mean ‘persuade'?

Well, I don't need the money. I'm in close with the swells, so it won't be hurtin' me to lose a few mangy drunks. Rockefeller 'n' me is like this, he said, holding up crossed fingers. Hey, where ya goin'?

Effie rushed out the door even before Paddy had finished, throwing off her apron on a table as she went and lifting the front of her long skirt to make it easier to run. Down the street, she saw a small crowd in front of the Salvation Army storefront. She could hear the hubbub even as she approached.

There was a heated argument over the Salvation Army's presence in the North End. Some felt the mission was hurting the various businesses that depended on slipshod behaviors of the citizens. At the back of the crowd, Effie saw Flora watching intently. Then Effie stepped into the gathering, moving her head from one side to the other as the arguments volleyed.

As Flora watched, she noticed that Effie's posture had changed. She wasn't simply standing and listening, but was now poised with her right foot back a step. Her fists were balled tightly, her right arm hanging down but cocked, her left arm across her waist. The argument escalated, getting louder and angrier. Flora moved from the back and stepped in to try to relax the situation.

Men, she said (not gentlemen), let's please calm down and discuss this rationally.

One of the anti-Salvationists near her said, Beat it, sis! and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a shove that pushed her into the brick wall behind her.

That was the last thing he did before Effie's roundhouse right connected with his jaw. He spun slightly, bounced off the wall, and fell onto the pavement.

Except for a few in the crowd who knew her, everyone stood astonished at what just happened. Effie was of normal size, but she had learned much of what was taught by experience on the streets of the North End. She had dark-auburn hair, a plain but not unattractive face, with a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. In another situation, with attention to her makeup, clothes, and hair, her appearance might have been quite pleasing. But as it was, she was unremarkable and certainly didn't give the impression of a woman able to use her fists to good effect.

The silence that followed Effie's knockdown ended the situation. The crowd looked back and forth between her and the man, groggily trying to return to full consciousness on the pavement. Then the anti-Salvationists filtered away slowly, trying to be nonchalant, as if they just happened to be there that morning, since the confrontation hadn't gone as they hoped.

Flora walked over to Effie. Well! she said, trying not to smile. I continue to be amazed by you every day, Effie. Would you like a cup of coffee? I could use one.

Ida

Ida had never been happier. She was engaged and planning her wedding. Alva was a wonderful man, everything she had hoped for. He was thoughtful, polite, good-looking, smart, pleasant, and had a definite plan for his career. He loved Ida as much as she loved him. They had a respectable courtship and agreed on their future together. Even Ida's mother admitted jokingly that it was disappointing to have a future son-in-law with no faults to complain about.

A few days before the wedding came the rehearsal. During the practice, when the couple turned to be presented to the congregation, Alva stumbled and fell heavily into the railing around the altar, hitting the rail with his ribcage. He rubbed his side and resumed with the ceremony. The groomsmen made some jokes about him being nervous.

During the rehearsal dinner afterward, he begged his leave, complaining of discomfort in his stomach. Ida and the others suggested it was something he ate, and his friends again made some good-natured jokes about nervousness to make his injury seem unimportant.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. His condition worsened during the night, and the doctor was called that morning. He suspected internal injuries and ordered Alva to the hospital. The doctors there operated, but declared regretfully that there was nothing more they could do. Alva stayed in the hospital for a few more days, looking worse each time Ida visited, until he was gone.

Ida was devastated. She never thought he might feel any affection toward her because there were more attractive and outgoing girls in their school and church. But when he took an interest in her, it was the answer to many daydreams she had about him while she was growing up. Ida was slightly less than average height, with plain dark hair and eyes. Her unassuming features kept her sharp intelligence from being noticed in conversations or schoolwork.

She followed the correct manners for mourning, wearing black clothing and avoiding social gatherings where it might look like she was having too much fun too soon. After some time, her friends and family began to notice she hadn't improved. Ida continued to wear black when she should have transitioned to subdued colors and refused to participate in any activities away from home, only going out when necessary. Friends began to avoid calling on her because her unhappy behavior would either begin to rub off or simply annoy them. However, one friend, Gladys, kept trying. She had a breezy approach to life and couldn't understand why Ida didn't just shake the whole tragic affair off, have fun, and meet a new man. She would come calling and suggest different things to do to no avail.

One day as she was leaving, she told Ida's mother, I'm going to get that girl out of her black clothes and out of this house or die try—. Oh! I— She caught herself, realizing how that might sound.

Ida's mother smiled. "I know what you mean, dear. It's