Because the Spanish Flu began among soldiers, it continued to affect them at a high rate. For historians researching WWI, it is not unusual to go looking for a soldier’s military record and find that they died not on the battlefield, but sick in bed. Ohio soldiers at Camp Sherman in Ross County were infected at such a shocking rate, that the nearby community of Chillicothe attempted to quarantine themselves from the camp.
Camp Sherman quickly became a very dark place during the summer and fall of 1918. About 5,686 military personnel fell ill, with 1,777 succumbing to the Spanish Flu. This number was so high that the nearby city of Chillicothe had to allow some breaks in their quarantine so that soldiers could use the Majestic Theater as a makeshift morgue. Soldiers’ bodies often had to travel a distance to get home to their families, so nurses began embalming the bodies that were “stacked like cordwood” at the theater. This meant bodily fluids running through the nearby alley that still bears the name “Bloody Alley.” Prepared bodies were taken back to camp by wagon as funeral marches rang out through the city.
Because this flu began amongst soldiers and many of the nation’s medical professionals were serving in military capacities (and getting sick), the United States quickly suffered a shortage of doctors and nurses. Dayton had 15 visiting nurses arrive to assist, but as they fell ill there was a desperate call for more trained professionals. One Red Cross registrar claimed that any woman “with her normal ‘horse sense’ ought to be able to do many things for the sick,” but this was not generally medically accepted advice.
Medical professionals and citizens alike did everything they could to keep from getting the flu. Sometimes they were on the right track, but often their attempts were fools errands since disproved by modern medical science. Many images from the Spanish Flu show people wearing masks, but we now know that most of these masks were not made of materials that could properly filter air for the wearer. In Cincinnati, as numbers of infection grew in the first week of imposed social distancing, the local health officer, frustrated that he could not yet open public gatherings again, blamed the rise on the burning of leaves, believing the disease was being carried on the smoke. He banned the burning of leaves, but it offered no real assistance.
Fortunately, most Ohio cities, and most cities around the nation, were on track with most of their preventive measures. Health officers correctly advised social distancing, closed places where the public gathered (Cincinnati even removed furniture from hotel lobbies to limit loitering), and isolated those who were falling ill.