The Health Crises of Camp Beauregard

Recently, I ran across a short history I wrote on Camp Beauregard many years ago. While flipping through it, I was reminded that the current Covid pandemic is not the first health crisis Louisiana has endured.

When the United States entered World War I in 1917, it had to raise and train a huge army very quickly. A military draft was begun, and sixteen new army bases were established to train the soldiers. One was Camp Beauregard, Louisiana, located near Pineville. It covered 60,000 acres, and approximately 45,000 soldiers received basic training there. 

Camp Beauregard was one of the most modern military bases of its time, but infectious diseases ran rampant among the soldiers. This was partly because of poor hygiene among the men and the fact that many of the soldiers were rural boys who had never been exposed to infectious diseases. To help address the problem, orders were issued for all men to bathe at least twice a week, and officers began inspecting the doughboys for cleanliness. One soldier wrote, “They don’t mind telling a fellow to wash either if he needs it, but since this two baths a week rule came in, everyone is clean.”

Periodic epidemics swept through Camp Beauregard, and it became one of the unhealthiest army bases in the country. In 1917, it had the second highest rate of pneumonia, meningitis and mumps; third highest in measles; fifth highest in syphilis; and the highest pneumonia mortality rate. In November and December, a mumps epidemic affected almost ten percent of the soldiers, with 2,063 cases being reported by January 1918.

Measles once forced a camp quarantine, and an outbreak of spinal meningitis in late 1917 terrified the men. This epidemic infected eighty-five soldiers, twenty-six of whom died. One man wrote home, “I think the three Ms is all they know here, mumps, measles and meningitis. So if it isn’t mumps or measles, they immediately call it meningitis.”

The most dangerous time was when the Spanish flu pandemic reached the camp. In September and October 1918, more than 7,000 cases were reported, with 409 deaths. Only 13,000 men were still in camp at that time, so this amounted to a 54 percent infection rate. Family members who received the dreaded notification had to come to Hixon Brothers Funeral Home in Alexandria where all of the dead were transferred for pickup.

Quarantine was the standard treatment for such diseases. Hundreds of men, sometimes entire units, were shut off in quarantine enclosures called “bull pens.” In the case of spinal meningitis, the bullpens were surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards. One Louisianian remembered having the measles. “They put me in this dang bull-pen down there where they’d bring your meals, and you would have to walk a hundred or two yards to get them in the rain, sleet or snow . . . wonder I hadn’t died.” He also claimed security was lax at his bull pen, and he was able to slip out and wander around every night.

One of the biggest concerns for military officials was the availability of liquor and prostitutes. The soldiers readily availed themselves of both and by 1918, 42.7 percent of them were infected with venereal disease. Camp commandant Col. Harold Jackson complained that “the immorality . . . in the pinewoods surrounding the camp . . . is being moved to the bushes around the camp.”

The army urged Alexandria and Pineville officials to closely regulate the liquor and prostitution. As one medical officer warned the people who attended an Alexandria town meeting, “a diseased prostitute is just as dangerous as a German with a machine gun.”

When the military threatened to close the camp to civilians, local officials quickly began cooperating with the army. Saloons were closed at 9:30 p.m., and new taxi regulations stated that “no driver shall be allowed to convey lewd women or whiskey” to the base. This crackdown was soon evident to the common soldiers. One complained, “They search you before you get on the train for any contraband you might be trying to smuggle into the camp. The town is full of military police, too, to keep order.”

When World War I ended in November 1918, the army no longer needed Camp Beauregard, so it was closed the following year and the soldiers were sent home. The buildings were torn down for lumber that was sold at auction, along with thousands of trucks, horses, and mules. In 1920, Louisiana purchased two hundred acres of the Camp Beauregard site, and the camp hospital was later turned over to the Veterans Administration. Today, a VA hospital still sits on the site, and Camp Beauregard serves as the state’s National Guard base.

Dr. Terry L. Jones is a professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. For an autographed copy of “Louisiana Pastimes,” a collection of the author’s stories, send $25 to Terry L. Jones, P.O Box 1581, West Monroe, LA 71294.