As was usually the case in army routine, early reveille did not vouch for an early departure from camp. Detail aplenty was in store for the boys all day. The last meal was enjoyed in 019 mess-hall at 5 p.m.,--then started a thorough policing up of barracks. Sweeping squads were sent over the ground a dozen times and finally the boys assembled outside on the battery assembling grounds, at 7:30 p. m., with packs ready and everything set to begin the march to entrain.
During the hours of waiting that followed the boys indulged in a few sign painting decorations. Among the numerous signs tacked to 019 were:
"For Rent, for a large family; only scrappers need apply. Btry D, 311th F. A."
"Von Hindenberg dropped dead. We're coming."
It was a grand sight to see the regiment depart at 8:45 p. m. The band was playing; colors were flying at the head of the column--everybody was in high spirits. But there were no civilians to enjoy the spectacle. It was night and but few knew of the departure. The rain had ceased and twilight was deepening into darkness as the regiment, excepting Battery A, which was left in camp for police detail, to follow a few days later, started on the hike; back over practically the same route the soldiers were marched from Disney to 019 when they first arrived in camp. This time they were leaving 019; marching for the last time with Battery D through the reservation of Camp Meade; marching to the railroad yards at Disney where trains were being made up to convey the regiment to a point of embarkation. But few knew whether it was to be Philadelphia, New York, or Hoboken. The men were leaving home and home-land and departing for a land of which they knew nought. What the ocean and Germany's program of relentless submarine warfare had in store for them, no one knew. All hearts were strong in the faith and all stout hearts were ready to do and to dare; content in the knowledge that they were doing their duty to their home and their country.
Land appeared in rugged outline along the horizon as the Steamship Morvada swept the waves when dusk was falling on the Tuesday evening of July 16th, 1918. It was a beautiful mid-summer's night and the boys of Battery D, in common with the members of the 311th regiment, stood at the deck railings of the S. S. Morvada and watched the outline of shore disappear under cover of darkness. The ship had been sailing since 11:30 a. m., Sunday, July 14th, at which time the Morvada had lifted anchor and slowly pushed its nose into the Delaware River; leaving behind the Philadelphia & Reading Railroad docks at Port Richmond, Philadelphia, Penna., the last link that held them to their native shores.