Nine Days’ Wonder
Sunday afternoon July 20th, 1919, has gone down in the history of the Czechoslovak army as one of the most dramatic days in all its varied experience. That day witnessed the arrival of the Steamer Archer in the Harbor of San Diego, carrying some two thousand Czechoslovak troops who were en route to their homes in Czechoslovakia. Nine days were spent at Camp Kearny before the troops were entrained to continue the journey by rail to the Eastern Port. They were indeed a “Nine Days’ Wonder”.
Hours before the Archer was sighted, a crowd of Czechoslovaks from all Southern California, together with most of the citizens of San Diego, had assembled at the pier. Groups of young women of the War Camp Community Service stood with baskets and armloads of flowers, wearing badges of white and scarlet—the ancient colors of the new Republic.
S. S. Archer arrives in San Diego with 2000 heroes of Siberia. The girls and women of the Czechoslovak nation who had come to greet their countrymen donned the native costumes of their home land so that the heroes might see at once that they were among their own. Even a tiny Miss not yet five years old strolled about proudly in peasant costume, to cheer the heart of some returning hero and remind him of perchance another such a little girl waiting for him at home. A committee of citizens and countrymen had gone out in a launch to welcome the troops on board the steamer. Every heart on shore beat fast. Every eye was moist at the thought of what this reception would mean. After five years of horror and blood, they were to met friends, hear their own language spoken. They would be in America, the first lap of the journey done.
At about four o’clock in the afternoon of that beautiful Sunday the massive hull of the Archer swung into the harbor. But long even before the men could be distinguished on the crowded deck, there floated to us across the water strains of the dear old songs of the homeland. “Kde Domov Můj” and “Hej Slované”. Soon the waiting crowds could distinguish the words and a mighty chorus swelled up from Czechoslovaks on shore and mingled with that far out on the water. Slowly with scarcely a perceptible motion the mighty load slipped in. Faces could now be distinguished—bronzed, scarred and weatherbeaten, but what a glory shone there. Sobbing voices from shore called out “Na zdar” and a thousand voices called back “Na zdar, krajané”. The American friends present caught the spirit and enthusiasm of that mighty moment and called “Na zdar” over and over, as if the words were not strange to their tongues. Long before the steamer was alongside, a shower of flowers was tossed to the men who caught them with cheers and banter and fastened the blossoms to cap and blouse. A babel of greetings sounded from every quarter. “Where are you from, brother?” “I am from Plzeň,” “I am from Olomouc”. “I have an uncle there, you must know him.” And so the greetings went on. Gradually the boat pulled alongside and the troops were unloaded. Groups of American Military Police stood ready to give assistance and keep order in the landing.
