HISTORY
OF THE 305th Infantry
by
Frank Tiebout
Chapter 7
THE
ARGONNE
CHAPTER VII
THE ARGONNE
THE Western Front, since the Autumn of 1914, bad been a
great face protruding into France and frowning upon the
Allied armies. The brow rested on the English Channel
near Dunkerque, the features extending generally south to
a point where the chin in September protruded as far as
Noyon, in the direction of Paris. Thence the jaw ran
eastward past Soissons and Rheims to Verdun, whence the
neck was drawn southeast toward the quiet of the Lorraine
front. What might have been likened to the Adam's apple
had been painfully amputated at St. Mihiel by the first
American Army early in the month of September.
That First American
Army, of which the 77th Division was now a part, was to
strike a blow at the jaw of the great German face. Since
July 18th, the French, British, Americans and Belgians,
under the general command of Marechal Foch, had been
hammering the Boche on his soft spots, using up his
reserve patience and strength. The time was ripe for a
knockout blow on the jaw, the major objective being the
railroads running through Mezieres to Metz and
Luxembourg, one of the enemy's great supply routes.
The German front at
this time has also been likened to a gigantic door, the
hinges of it secured at Mezieres, swinging open at
Belgium and the northern coast. As long as the hinges
held, the great door might be closed in the face of an
intruder. It was the task of the First Army to smash the
hinges, and break down the door!
It did.
It was not until
the night of September 25th, as the First and Second
Battalions were quietly taking their places at the
jump-off on the Le Four de Paris-La Fille Morte line that
we realized our show was to be only a part of the
greatest battle of the war. From Verdun to the Belgian
Coast the Allied armies were to attack. Stunned by
surprise and the savagery of that initial onslaught in
the morning fogs of September 26th the foe recoiled,
though fighting tenaciously, bitterly, treacherously,
until utterly routed and crying quits in the first week
of November. Not only had their life-saving railroads
through Mezieres been cut by long range artillery, but
were almost within the actual grasp of the Allied armies!
No one had any
hallucinations now about visiting "the big
town." Yet, this bad all the earmarks of a quiet
sector. Only a few shells winged their way in now and
then. Nobody would clamor loudly for a rest camp if they
could be allowed to spend Christmas here performing the
ordinary routine duties of a defensive position. After
months of mud and squalor wouldn't you like to step from
a moonlit balcony through a door-a real,
honest-to-goodness door with a knob on it and panes of
glass-into your own private hallway, and after
investigating the back passage which led to a bomb-proof
deep in the bowels of the defending hillside, turn into
your own room, a room with latticed window, stone
fireplace, electric lights, real furniture, the heavy
beams in wall and ceiling painted white, the panels a
cool gray and topped by a frieze of dainty cut-outs from
La Vie Parisienne?
This was the strongest, the most unique and comforting
system of trenches one could imagine. In the early days
of the war, the wavering lines had come to rest at this
point. Attempts at gain by either side through the
heavily wooded, deep ravines and abrupt ridges of the
forest had proved futile and costly.
Black, gloomy,
forbidding, this largest expanse of woodland between the
Mediterranean and the Rhine stretches a distance of
thirty-nine kilometers from Passevant and Beaulieu in the
south, with the big town of St. Menehould in its southern
confines, to Grand-Pre and the valley of the River Aire
on the north. On the eastern edge of the forest are
Varennes, Mont-blainville, Cornay and St. Juvin. On its
western boundary are the towns of Binarville, Lancon and
Grand Ham. For four years the upper twenty-two kilometers
of it, held by the enemy, was a region of dark mystery,
its densely wooded hills and ravines, swamps, brooks,
marshland, tangled underbrush, trailing vines and briars
adapted by them into a vast, impregnable fortress.
From time
immemorial, the Argonne had proved a stumbling-block to
military operations. Julius Caesar went around it;
Napoleon avoided it; in this war, neither Germans nor
French could push all the way through it; it remained for
Alexander to conquer. Four years of desultory shelling,
just enough to let the other side know that the fight was
still on, four years of occasional raids and minor
actions had carved out of the forest a long stretch of
bald and barren ridges, splintered trunks, yawning
shell-pits-a scarred and battered wreckage of landscape.
All life at first glance seemed extinct.
But here were the evidences of incredible labor. Officers
and non-coms. who crept stealthily forward to the P. P.'s
and listening posts found a torn, twisted and tortuous
maze of earthworks, caverns, pits, dugouts, emplacements
and barriers-outposts which were scarcely more than
shellholes in which man still dared to eke out a
precarious existence. Here he was, out of sight-a grim
and silent poilu, Chauchat gunner or sentinel watching
from his hidden recess for signs of enemy activity,
shifting his position ever so carefully from time to
time, speaking at rare intervals to one of his fellows in
the merest whisper, cautioning the American up there on
observation to utter no word of English, lest the Germans
sense the impending attack.
Peering timorously
over a parapet one might see, not more than thirty yards
off in places, the German trenches crouching low behind
their mountains .of rusted and barbed wire entanglements,
cheveaux de frise, refuse, tin cans, broken bits of
materiel and equipment, wire and more wire. Lanes would
have to be cut through all of that before the attacking
troops could hope to pass.
Perpendicular to
the front, each one carefully mapped and named, the
boyaus or connecting trenches clambered abruptly down
into the ravines, then labored up over the ridges, many
of them carved with steps into the solid rock and
camouflaged, leading to the support systems and beyond.
Here, daily work by the very few men necessary had by
degrees made the trenches almost perfect. Nouveau
Cottage, the elaborate concrete residence of the sector
commander, was an underground chateau-a palace, it seemed
to us then.
The greater part of
the men were held in readiness further back past a series
of wooded and slippery ridges, where the forest had not
been blasted out of existence by shell-fire. Some of them
found comparative comfort on a forward slope in wide,
deep trenches shaded by tall and stately trees. Others
were quartered in reserve in a camp on the reverse slopes
at La Chalade, where it seemed as though every group
which had ever occupied that position had contributed of
its ingenuity and resource to make the spot more restful
and inviting to the tired troops who might come after.
Only by a process of evolution through many seasons could
that little city have been built in the wilderness.
Beautiful dugouts, walks, stairways, balconies, kitchens,
baths -even an open-air theatre; an electric light plant;
furniture, hangings, bric-a-brac, and even pianos in some
of the huts! It was Heaven, after all the bloodshed,
misery and disappointment we had been through.
Many a poker game
was broken up by stories the sergeants brought back from
the front-that a drive was about to start which would
mean the end of the war, and that many an extra first-aid
man would be on the job. Hurried letters were written to
the folks at home. Vigorous preparation for the
on-slaught ensued, two extra bandoliers of ammunition,
hand grenades, rifle grenades, wire cutters being
issued-everything convenient to kill a man with. A
copious supply of cigarettes, bounty of the Auxiliary,
helped. Everything in the way of equipment, excepting
rifle, belt and bayonet, gas mask, slicker and combat
pack was turned in.
Our ranks had been
depleted by deaths, wounds and illness. While officers
and platoon sergeants were assembled at headquarters for
their thrilling instructions, a welcome issue of
replacements was received from the 40th Division. Most of
these new men had been in civilian clothes on the Pacific
Coast in July. They had had almost no practice with the
gas mask. Very few of them, if any, had ever thrown a
live grenade. Some had fired not more than fifteen rounds
with the service rifle. A Camp Upton veteran actually
collected a five-franc note for teaching one of his new
comrades how to insert a clip, and thought he had pulled
a good one! What he expected to do in the-woods with a
five-franc note, no one knew; yet it was just as safe in
one pocket as another. About fifty, went to each company,
though when M Company hopped the bags, it comprised one
sergeant, one corporal, forty men skilled, in the care
and handling of horses, and a hundred and fifty recruits.
Thank God, most of them were from the woods and could
ordinarily dust the eye of a squirrel at fifty yards.
They were quick to absorb the pointers handed out by the
older men though what we were to buck up against,
Methuselah, for all his years, could not have taught. It
had not been tried before. These inexperienced men were
just as well off as others. They had the proper, spirit,
which was the only real equipment necessary.
The moon was rising when the Second Battalion, under
command of Captain Eaton, filed out of Le Claon whither
it had been withdrawn a few nights before into the woods,
past the burning house and popping ammunition dump
ignited by shell fire, through La Chalade, with its gaunt
spectral church, through Nouveau Cottage, where the last
hot meal was due and which was not forthcoming, through
the winding boyaus and up to the forward lines on the
Route Marchand. It was to lead the attack followed in
close support by the First Battalion and then the Third.
On our left was the 306th Infantry, in column of
Battalions also. The Division was to attack in line of
regiments.
All night the men
clung to that steep hillside, or herded into the dugouts
awaiting the "zero" hour, while from their
midst heavy mortars in the hands of the French played
havoc with the German wire. Back on the roads paralleling
the front the artillery was massed hub to hub. Shortly
after midnight their pandemonium broke loose; the steady
roar of great guns was deafening, terrifying. Jerry must
have thought a whole ammunition dump was coming at him.
The chill September
air was blue with fog and smoke and powder, the dawn,
Just breaking as the silent columns filed up through the
steep boyaus toward, the jumping-off places, ready to go
over the top with only raincoats and rations for baggage,
armed to the teeth, and more thrilled than ever Guy Empey
thought he was. This was just what we had all read about
long before America got into the war; this was just what
the home folks doubtless imagined us to be doing every
day. Could anyone who was there ever forget the earnest,
picturesque figures with their grim-looking helmets,
rifles and bayonets sharply silhouetted against the
eastern sky; the anxious consultation of watches; the
thrill of the take-off; the labored advance over a No
Man's Land so barren, churned, pitted and snarled as to
defy description; the towering billows of rusty, clinging
wire; the flaming signal rockets that sprayed the heavens
- the choking, blinding smoke and fog and gas that
drenched the valleys, and then-one's utter amazement at
finding himself at last within the German stronghold
which during four years had been thought impregnable!
This was certainly a long way from New York!
A few corpses lay strewn about in the wreckage of
emplacement, camp or dugout; a few dazed and willing
prisoners were picked up here and there; but for the most
part the Boches had fled, their only resistance being a
feeble shell fire, machine gunning and sniping. They had
pulled out as rapidly as possible-all who were not blown
off the earth by that first blast of fire at midnight-to
their second line of defense.
Despite the
intensity of the shelling, the maze of wire revealed no
open avenues and there was difficulty in keeping up with
our own rolling barrage as it swept over the ground
before us at the rate of a hundred meters in five
minutes. Pieces of cloth and flesh staved with the rusty,
clinging barbs; a number of men were impaled on spikes
cleverly set for that very purpose. With difficulty the
leading and supporting waves were reformed in line of
gangs" or small combat groups before plunging on
into the ravines, there to become lost or separated from
their fellows until after climbing to some high point
above the sea of fog they might determine again the
direction of advance by a consultation of map and compass
and a consideration of whatever landmarks rose above the
clouds.
No concerted
resistance was met with until about noon, after three
kilometers of wooded terrain had been covered. There a
stubborn machine gun resistance and a heavy shell fire
persuaded the Second Battalion, reinforced by companies
of the First, to dig in while they spread their panels on
the ground to indicate to the Liberty planes overhead the
point of farthest advance. At last we were to get some
assistance from the air! Casualties there had been in
great numbers from enemy shelling and from lurking
snipers; but like North American Indians, we continued to
stalk our prey from tree to tree.
With difficulty the
scattered units were gathered together from all points of
the compass. Here and there a little "gang" had
had its thrilling experience. The scout, whose trying
duty it is to advance far in the lead to observe
or-failing in that-to draw fire from the hidden ambush,
had detected a skulking sniper or hidden machine gun
post. Signalling to his fellows, the rifle grenadiers had
perhaps planted their missiles within the enemy nest, the
automatic rifle had been noiselessly carried to a point
of vantage, the riflemen and bombers had surrounded the
group of the enemy and with their fire routed him out.
How these men learn
to work together in their own little
"gangs"-four such units constituting a
platoon-and how they sometimes come to love their old
weapons is suggested by the homely statement of a private
in B Company who says, "I had my most experience on
a Shawshaw gun, and number one and two men got wounded.
Walter and Jim and I took the gun and held the position
and got a helper from the same platoon and he got wounded
and I held the position until I was called back by my
sergeant and took up another position and held it until
we moved out and never got wounded at all and all we had
to eat is one can of corn willie and two cans of hard
tack for two of us. But we got along with it and while on
the front I used two mussets of ammu-nition on the
Germans and my gun got hot and my gun got hit in the
stalk and split it, but I carried it all along in the
Argonne drive where I got gassed and had to lend it to
some other boys in the platoon."
The American
doughboy is a curious bird. He wanders along most
casually under shellfire, feeling-if he thinks about
anything at all-that he stands as good a chance as anyone
of not being hit. In the midst of what one might
ordinarily consider fairly important or distracting
duties all his thought is for something else. "Oh,
Lieutenant, looka here," he says in the midst of an
attack, pointing out some unusual bit of concrete trench
in the German lines. He is more absorbed with his guess
as to the number of nights someone has had to spend there
in digging, than the probability of its holding a company
of lurking Boches. Presently another one off on the right
says, "Oh, Lieutenant, looka here." There are
about seventeen fat Germans stand-ing outside a lovely
dugout but all eyes are on the dugout instead of on the
Germans.
"Keep out of
that dugout! Search 'em, quick," gasps the
Lieutenant, fearing treachery-which they do, mindful only
of the envied Luger automatic pistols they are to
acquire. The prisoners are lined up, and one slightly
wounded American private detailed to take them to the
rear.
"Come along,
youse, " he says, lighting up a cigarette, and
making as if to start off at the head of the willing
column, with the sling of his rifle over his shoulder and
chest.
"Wait a moment; I want to speak to you," yells
the worried lieutenant, who then whispers in the
doughboy's ear, " Unwind that rifle from your throat
so you can use it.
" Yessir. Giddap, youse Heinies! "
" Comeback here," shouts Mr. Officer once
again. "What the Hell do you think you're on-a
picnic Don't turn your back on that column! Get behind
'em I "
" Yessir, good idea," and off he wanders.
A strong outguard having been posted against the
possibility of counterattack in the night, and reliefs
arranged, the remaining men crouch in the slime of their
miserable funk holes, cursing the cold, clammy drizzle,
and shivering themselves into fitful sleep under the
meagre protection of an army rain-coat, gas mask slung in
readiness, helmet covering one ear, rifle loaded, locked
and in instant readiness. Perhaps it is arranged that two
will occupy the one hole - one man constantly on the
alert, and so on down the entire line. At dawn they
stretch their aching limbs, a warming fire not to be
thought of, with no expectation of a hot meal; for there
are no roads as yet open to the pursuing cookers. Nothing
in view but the prospect of another day of advance.
On the evening of
the 27th a determined though unsuccessful attack was
launched against the strong positions on the extreme
right of our line, at the Carrefour des Meurissons. Into
a pocket which the enemy had cleared out of the brush two
companies unwarily advanced before meeting up with a
barricade of unexpected chicken wire. just at that
moment, the machine guns opened up from three sides. Why
those companies were not blown to atoms cannot be said.
Night put a damper on further attempts, from which we
desisted until morning. After our third costly attack on
this point the enemy broke and ran. On the left, the Abri
St. Louis fell to the Three Hundred and Fifth after four
attacks.
Through the Abri du
Crochet and a bit beyond, the front was extended on the,
night of the 28th, the Regiment finding the brush even
more thick- almost impenetrable. For units to advance in
attack formation and to keep proper contact with each
other was well nigh impossible. The kitchens succeeded in
moving up by road to the Abri, which was consoling, and
carrying parties were furnished by those in support.
Where breathes the good soldier who hasn't breathed yet
more deeply at the sight of the old chow-engine, or whose
magnetic hand has not at times pilfered a can of jam from
the larder? Did you ever threaten to raid the kitchen and
the defending cooks with hand grenades? You certainly
caused enough anxiety with your determination to
congregate in their vicinity.
Here was an ideal
place for Regimental Headquarters to operate. When
advance elements first entered these palatial German
dugouts, there lay beside the telephone a partially
decoded message in German, forwarded of course with all
speed to the Divisional Intelligence Department. But the
real haul consisted of many bottles of " Selzwasser
" and some light wines which Lieutenant Poire, being
an expert on such things, decided to sample lest the
unwitting Americans stumble into any trick stuff. That
was the last seen of the wines. Nothing further was heard
of them but the gurgle. But the Colonel's mess that night
boasted of freshly cooked rabbit, fresh vegetables and
head lettuce, all of which had been in the course of
preparation for the absent German dignitary's evening
meal.
On the 1st our
front was extended to the left by companies of the First
and Third Battalions, taking over ground previously held
by the 306th, which brought them into the high, wooded
ground of the Bois de la Naza, and in front of a ravine
which extended from the west up toward the center of the
line. G, E and F Companies also went into positions on
the left, and H was rushed over to the extreme right
flank of the Division. Sector, to fill in a gap that was
not closed by the 28th Division. The undergrowth in this
portion of the forest was so dense that individuals could
in some places with difficulty worm their way unobserved
to within a few yards of the enemy by making
extraordinarily careful use of cover, and by patiently
avoiding the small clearings or traps cut in the forest
by the Germans, where a false move would be certain to
call forth enemy fire, point blank. An examination of
these positions after they had been taken showed that the
murderous machine gun fire which halted the advance was
delivered from a line of gun pits at intervals of not
more than twenty feet. During the initial advance, our
men proceeded in thin lines and in combat groups to the
very tip of these well hidden positions and were there
mowed down.
That troops could
subsequently push up to within a very few yards of the
German gunners without detection-and likewise without
being able actually to see the enemy-seems remarkable;
and yet, the extreme right company actually dug for
protection while a searching machine gun fire sprayed
through the brush, at a range of only thirty yards. It
was accomplished only by extending into skirmish order
and patiently, inch by inch, one man at a time, crawling
ever closer and closer to the enemy until fired at point
blank by the opposing gunners-then digging for dear life.
Both sides maintained an almost constant rifle and
machine gun fire, although for the most part our men
failed to appreciate the demoralizing effects of a
grazing fire, taught as they were to aim at definite
targets. This the enemy seemed to estimate of great
value, for our positions were swept by an almost constant
fire. It can easily be understood how difficult it was to
promulgate orders for subsequent operations, or to
distribute food. To provide drinking water, one man would
painstakingly crawl from one hole to another collecting
on a stick a dozen or so canteens which he would bear to
some point in rear. Movement or noise of any kind seemed
to draw forth a raking fire of greater intensity than
usual.
Naturally, the
runners led a precarious existence. The right company had
made an effort to swing forward the far extremity of its
line, pivoting on the left. The air was blue with
bullets. In the midst of all the hullaballoo a runner
squirmed forward to the company commander who at that
moment lay on his stomach, his gas mask slung over his
back instead of his chest, that he might place himself
just those three inches nearer the ground. Surely it must
be a message of great tactical importance demanding that
a soldier jeopardize his life to effect its prompt
delivery! Breathless, wounded in the canteen, the brave
lad banded over the vital message which ran like this:
"You will send at once to Battalion Headquarters a
man who will be detailed to attend a School for the Care
and Handling of Army Asses."
Constant patrolling
was necessary in order to maintain the closest sort of
contact, to learn at once not only of any offensive
operation on the enemys' part, but also of any withdrawal
or maneuvering of their troops. Patrols of another nature
were necessary, too-searching for those who failed to
return. An adventure which was typical of many that
happened in the Bois de la Naza was that of Sergeants
Tompkins and Collins, Corporal Neitziet and Private
Arkman of L Company who crawled forward to within ten
yards of the enemy guns, weathered the fire and the
"potato-masher" hand grenades thrown in their
direction, and carried to safety three wounded comrades
who had been ambushed during an attempted advance. They
were awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.
" We took
Chaplain Johnson out on patrol," writes the F
Company scribe, "looking for snipers. One of the men
salvaged a German rifle and while looking it over almost
blew off the Chaplain's head. We got no snipers that
time, but did get a bunch of blankets, which the boys
were glad to have. The Chaplain was game, and was always
in the thick of it, comforting the wounded, and seeing to
it that the dead got as decent a burial as
possible." Both of the chaplains had plenty of work
to do and contributed greatly to the maintenance of
morale, during those trying days. We have seen funerals
on the battlefield; we have seen funerals in French
towns, magnificent with trappings, pomp and professional
mourners. Yet there was never one more impressive than
that of Private Morgan of H Company, killed by the
accidental explosion of hand grenades which he carried.
In the first light of a chill October morning a group of
his comrades gathered 'round as the poor boy's body was
interred, while his Corporal extemporaneously uttered a
homely, heartfelt prayer.
For the better part
of four days, we strove against these positions.
Artillery could not be used to advantage because of the
proximity of our lines to those of the enemy and the
likelihood of short bursts in the treetops. "The
American Army never retreats," and those higher up
would not consider for a moment withdrawing troops while
a sudden barrage might be laid down. We prayed for that
artillery, but got precious little such assistance. Rifle
grenades fouled in the trees. Stokes mortars were brought
into play, and captured German "grenatenwerfer"
were used by the Mortar Platoon with damaging effect on
the enemy. But, in order to register accurately, it was
necessary for an observer to be on the spot-not thirty,
nor fifty, nor a hundred yards back, but within a very
few yards of where the shells were calculated to land. On
October 3d, such a barrage of Stokes mortars was
attempted. The German fire was heavy and incessant.
Sergeant Sustick of L Company volunteered to crawl
forward to observe the effects of our fire. He therefore
came not only under the fire of the enemy, but was
virtually within our own mortar barrage. For that he,
too, was decorated.
The 2d of October
brought forth a succession of bloody attacks on various
parts of the line. Those in higher command could not or
would not appreciate the unspeakable difficulties of the
situation and demanded that the opposition be shattered
at once. On the 3d, Captain Eaton with E, F and G
Companies had, under orders from authority higher than
the Regimental Commander, taken over, man for man,
positions from the 306th in the Ravine de la Fontaine aux
Charmes, facing the northern slopes which came to be
known as Dead Man's Hill or Suicide Hill. At this
juncture, before any tactical redisposition of the men
could be effected, a Marine Major had come forward in the
capacity of Corps Inspector to investigate the delay, had
removed Captain Eaton because his men were huddled into a
ravine, and reported that the Three Hundred and Fifth
were "soldiering"-lying down on the job! This
was rank injustice to a very able leader and to the poor
devils who had been crawling around on their empty
bellies for a week, seeing their comrades dropping like
flies. They were incensed.
In the afternoon
these companies under command of Captain "Bill"
Mack stormed the hill. It was the same old story. F
Company alone suffered over fifty casualties in that one
afternoon. The right of the line under command of Major
Harris, who was carrying on despite a broken collarbone,
attacked repeatedly an impregnable line of machine guns.
There we got artillery support but it fell short and must
have knocked out as many of our own men as those of the
enemy. Brigadier General Wittenmyer, "Old
Witt," as the boys affectionately called him, and
who fears nothing under the sun, came forward himself to
lead the attack in person. The dead lay thick in the
brambles and shrubbery; the wounded came back in droves.
All night the ambulances labored to evacuate the
casualties of that brief attack as fast as the dressing
station could put them through. Over three hundred men
had been killed, were missing, or were so badly wounded
that they could not eventually rejoin. Here again, the
Sanitary Detachment did heroic work under fire. At seven
o'clock the next morning the last three men were trundled
off in a brave little Ford ambulance, and the General,
Old War Horse that he is, sat down in his head-quarters,
mopped his brow and is reported to have said, "Well,
anyone who, says he likes war is either a damn fool or a
damn liar."
An account of the
attack by an F Company boy reads: "At 3.30 we lined
up our gangs and started over that most terrible hill. We
were at once under direct machine gun fire, the worst
yet, and it seemed as if the air was so full of bullets
that a man could not move without being bit. A man
standing upright would have been riddled from head to
foot. That's what happened to Lieutenant Gardner, leading
E Company. We were approaching the crest of Suicide Hill,
advancing very slowly on our bellies. The only order that
could be heard was 'Forward,' and Company F was game. It
was awful. The poor boys were getting slaughtered as fast
as sheep could go up a plank. No one could ever describe
the horror of it. The screams of the wounded were
terrible, but we stuck to it. We could not see a Boche;
once in a while one would stick his head out of his
machine gun emplacement only to his sorrow. We were
supposed to go over with a rifle grenade barrage; but we
fired off all we had and the effect was too weak. What we
really wanted was a violent artillery barrage but never
did they throw a shell. Our commander, Lieutenant Hever,
got hit in the lung, and that left us without any
officers; it was every man for himself. The Boches made
our company look like a squad; all that was left was a
handful of men."
In justice to Captain Eaton, be it said in large type,
that he was almost immediately exonerated by a Court of
Inquiry and returned to his command, greatly envied for
the brief breathing spell he had enjoyed at Le Claon.
On the 5th and 6th,
these positions were taken over by the 306th. On the 7th,
pressure on the flanks succeeded in squeezing out the
resistance. Tired units were drawn into the comfortable
retreat at Abri du Crochet for a couple of days of
bathing and hot food, and for the absorption of a new
batch of officers recently commissioned from the Regular
Army Divisions, whose only equipment seemed to be comfort
kits and Sam Browne belts. the selection of an orderly in
some instances being the subject of far more concern than
making the acquaintance of a new platoon, or
familiarizing themselves with the maps of the region.
That sounds a little bit unappreciative - for they were
in reality a corking bunch of officers who jumped into
their new duties with vigor and vim and quickly endeared
themselves to officers and men alike. If the roll were
called today, a great number of them would be found to
have paid the price.
The lines which a
member of the Machine Gun Company wrote of his Platoon
Commander, Lieutenant Frank T. Montgomery, who was killed
in the Bois de la Naza, might also have been said of many
another.
THE SECOND LIEUTENANT
NEW STYLE
He's younger than the most of us-far younger than the
"Top," And, bein' young, he's full of pep and
keeps us on the hop; He hasn't been in long enough to
sour on the game; He's tickled as a kid with it-that's
why we bless his name.
He puts us through all sorts of stunts to liven up the
drill, He laughs when he turns corners sharp and takes a
muddy spill. It's up and in it all the time-he never
seems to tire, And doesn't know what ducking means in
face of Fritz's fire!
He always calls us " fellows "-never pulls the
line " My men He likes to think he's one of us; and
back in billets, when He has to make inspections, he'll
sit down and chin a while, And as to all that "Yes
Sir" stuff, " Oh, can it!" That's his
style.
At shows he plays his uke for us, and sings his college
glees, And if there's a piano, wow! He sure can pound the
keys! On hikes he always starts a song, or sends along a
laugh- And those are things, you darn well know, that
help us stand the gaff.
I never cared for college guys when I was in the States;
I thought they were a messy lot, a bunch of underweights;
But if our Loot's a sample, why, I've got to change my
mind -He's got the sand, the bean and go to pull us
through the grind!
To be dragged out of a hell-hole, considerably the worse
for wear, cold, muddy and hungry, and back into a
sheltering ravine out of reach of the German machine
guns, though not yet beyond shell fire, was great. After
the first shave in ten days and a night's sleep under a
stray piece of corrugated iron, what ho!-one is a man
again. But some fared better even than that. " On
the reverse slopes of these hills," quoting from the
7 7th Division History, "huge deep dugouts had been
constructed-one of the famous rest areas of the German
armies, where battle-worn and weary Boches were taken to
fatten up and recover morale amidst amazing comforts and
luxuries. On the heights above these dugouts, more
pretentious abodes had been built for officers and
non-commissioned officers. These were of concrete, with
logs and concrete roofing, twenty feet in depth, and were
ornamented to resemble Swiss chalets and Black Forest
hunting lodges with peaked roofs and exterior fresco work
of burnt oak. Within were oak wainscoted chambers, fitted
with electric lights and running water, supplied from the
power house in the valley below. Benches and tables in
rustic solid oak were supplemented by plush arm-chairs
and hair mattresses to cater to the comforts of weary
warriors. Adjoining "Waldhaus Martha" was the
bowling alley with the open-air restaurant and beer
garden built above it, where once sat the onlookers,
quaffing their beer, perhaps, and cheering the bowlers.
Down in the ravine where the brook ran was the great
concrete swimming pool, and here, also, were found
spacious shower baths supplied with hot water by modern
boilers and concrete furnaces. These baths, you can bet,
were put to immediate use.
The advance over the next six kilometers by the remainder
of the Brigade was opposed only by shell fire. On the
night of the 9th, it was announced that La Besogne had
been taken; but when the entire Brigade, led by the
306th, took up the advance the next morning in column of
squads, with Berlin as the objective, they found that a
body of French had cut across the Division sector from
the left and lay at some distance in the rear of the tiny
hamlet dignified by such a beautiful name.
Some historian '
with a mania for painful detail, will some day point out
with glee that for a few moments that morning the 77th
was an attacking Division which had no front; for the
French above referred to were joined up on their right
with a battalion which had strayed beyond the limits of
the 82d Division's sector. We hereby take the wind out of
his sails.
The three
battalions of the 306th having taken position to the
front and west of Besogne, the First Battalion of the
Three Hundred and Fifth became the attacking unit of the
Brigade. It did a splendid piece of work that afternoon.
The shelling had become very heavy. The attacking
battalion of the 82d Division encountered on our right,
which had become separated from the rest of its outfit,
was literally cut to pieces and digging in. Gathering up
portions of this scattered unit on his way, Major Metcalf
delayed not a moment, but led his command rapidly through
shellfire, through the positions of more or less
demoralized troops to the Marcq-Chevieres line and
succeeded in pushing patrols to the Aire. Lieutenant
Clokey, though no more than partially recovered from a
serious wound sustained on the Vesle, had returned to the
Regiment just in time to be put in command of C Company
and to enter the attack. With remarkable dash and vigor
he led his company across two kilometers of open ground,
under the full observation and heavy shell fire of the
enemy, and extended his front so as to enter and hold the
town of Marcq, going out of the Regimental sector to do
so and then reaching the river. These positions were
taken over by the 154th Brigade on the night of the 13th
at which time the other elements of the Regiment were
drawn back to the Pylon crossroads to the west of Cornay
by a difficult night march. Though ready for a genuine
rest, men had to be satisfied with the following:
Headquarters, 77th Div., 12 Oct., 1918.
General Order
No. 32
1. The following is published for the information of all
concerned: 804/G3
ADVANCED HEADQUARTERS, FIRST ARMY CORPS
Oct. 12, 1918. From: Commanding General, 1st Army Corps.
To: Commanding General, 77tb Division.
Subject: Commendation.
1. The Corps Commander directs me to inform you that he
feels once more during the present operations called upon
to express his gratification and appreciation of the work
of the 77th Division.
2. This Division has been in the line constantly since
the night of the 25th of September under circumstances at
least as difficult as those which have confronted any
other Division of the First Army.
3. In spite of these conditions your command has pushed
steadily forward on a line with-the foremost and today,
after eighteen days of constant fighting is still ready
to respond to any demand made upon it.
4. The Corps Commander is proud indeed of such a unit as
yours and congratulates you on such a command.
MALIN CRAIG,
Chief of Staff.
By Command of MAJOR GENERAL ALEXANDER.
C. 0. SHERRILL,
Chief of Staff.
The 77th Division had cleaned out the Argonne Forest, but
they had to go on.
The 14th was an eventful day and productive of a lasting
difference of opinion. After it had weathered a night of
heavy shell fire, an early morning barrage of great
intensity and a counter attack, H Company certainly felt
as if it had taken the town of St. Juvin and held it
against vigorous opposition. However, credit for its
capture has, in the Division History, officially gone to
H Company of the 306th Infantry, and very little has been
said of the part played therein by the Three Hundred and
Fifth, which experienced all the thrills of approaching
an enemy town under shell fire, mopping it up, hastily
entrenching to defend it, sending back prisoners, and
feeling very much alone in it during all the night of the
14th.
On that afternoon,
the Second Battalion had been on the high ground behind
Marcq in support of the 306th, which was to cross the
river and take St. Juvin. General Wittenmyer in person
had suddenly ordered Captain Dodge to lead his company by
trails through the brush down to the River Aire, to
advance and enter the town, followed by the rest of the
battalion. Major Bennet, the Brigade Adjutant, guided the
company north along the railroad to a foot bridge, which
they crossed, single file, into the open meadows two
kilometers southeast of the town. It was beautiful to see
the men turn left, on command, and proceed north in line
of gangs under a heavy shell fire, which the Boche with
his perfect observation instantly opened up, and despite
casualties to maintain their attack formation.
Into a sheltering
ditch they flopped momentarily for breath. No moving
troops had been seen to their front during this part of
their advance. All set for a hand-to-hand scrap, they
were surprised therefore to encounter at the bridge on
the eastern limits of the town, which they entered at
five-thirty, a number of German prisoners in the hands of
American troops, men of the 306th who had succeeded in
accomplishing an enveloping movement to the right, in the
sector of the 82d Division. The shelling had ceased; it
was evident that the Boches were loath to bombard the
great numbers of their own troops who were still there.
Troops of the other
regiment, it was said, were in the eastern edge of the
town. Accordingly, H Company of the Three Hundred and
Fifth divided into groups, proceeding through the streets
of the center and western half, mopping up the cellars,
clear to the northern limits. While engaged in this
thrilling work, no other American troops were
encountered, unless one excepts the drunken engineer
whose helmet and gas mask were gone, whose only equipment
was a Colt .45 stuck in the waistband of his breeches,
and who wept, while pointing out the choicest wine
cellars, because he hadn't taken any prisoners. They had
all insisted upon running away from him, he said. It was
after the sobering barrage which shortly occurred that he
confessed to having found some pretty good stuff back in
Marcq, and that after the bridge on which he had been
working was completed, he had sauntered forward into a
town then completely dominated by the enemy, to see what
the wine cellars there had to offer.
In the region of
the church, and north of it, several groups of
unresisting prisoners were taken, including three majors,
one captain, one lieutenant, several non-coms, and about
eighty men who were grouped with a large number turned
over to us at the entrance to the town by the 306th, and
sent to the rear in charge of one officer and a squad.
There was no hand-to-hand fighting. The German soldiers
had been told by their officers that an armis-tice would
be in effect the next day, and were only too happy to
fall into a column of squads and later, to serve as
litter bearers-if someone would put in a good word for
them.
None of the
equipment taken from them could be listed. Prized
trophies which the boys would now give a great deal for
were hurriedly dumped into a heap, while the platoons
sought to assemble and dig in on Hill 182, about
seventy-five yards north of the town, just as night fell.
The company numbered about sixty effectives, plus two
guns of the 306th Machine Gun Company, 82d Division,
which came up at nightfall and took position on our left.
A patrol to the northwest on the Champigneulle road
scared up some Germans who fled. Outpost No. 1 on Hill
182 located by nine-thirty at a considerable distance
from its right, and slightly to the front, another small
detachment of the 326th Machine Gun Company.
The enemy shells
commenced to land upon our positions at about nine
o'clock and continued to do so practically without
cessation all through the night. Digging was difficult
because of flying shell splinters; and it seemed as if
the noise of pick and shovel brought a desultory rifle
fire from the right front, bullets repeatedly grazing the
parapets-which seriously disputes the presence of
friendly troops on that quarter. In fact, H Company felt
utterly alone. Sergeant Leopold, sent to the rear to give
information in detail as to the situation and to ask that
companies be disposed to defend the right and left, found
no one in town, the walls of which by that time were
rocking, and was interrupted in the carrying out of his
mission by having to gather up single-handed, about forty
more prisoners who at that inconvenient moment insisted
upon shrieking " Kamarad!
At about ten
o'clock, an officer of the 306th reached Captain Dodge
and his executive lieutenant to ask about our
dispositions and what was on the left. It was pointed out
to the visitor that his company had not advanced to its
objective; that there was nothing on our left. He was
asked if possible to move up from the St. Juvin-St.
Georges Road in order to help out in case of trouble. At
about five o'clock in the morning it appeared that he was
taking up position in old German trenches on Hill 182, on
our right front, out of which those troops were shelled
an hour or so later by the most intense barrage our men
had ever experienced. The Germans loosed everything they
had, finishing up with a rain of machine gun bullets and
a feeble counter attack which was repelled. It cannot be
said that there was any desperate fighting in and About
St. Juvin although not a man was there who does not
earnestly pray that he will never again have to live
through such a nerve-wracking experience as that shell
fire. This operation elicited the following commendation
from General Alexander:
HEADQUARTERs 77TH
DIVISION,
American E. F.
14 October, 1918.10:55 P. M.
General Order.
1. The Division
Commander congratulates most heartily the troops of this
division upon the successful result of operations, 14th
October. A most difficult night march was necessary to
place 153d Brigade in proper position to attack. This was
done, the attack launched and the objective gained. In
the course of the operations a large number of prisoners,
including officers of superior rank, were taken by the
153d Brigade.
2. This success,
coming as it does, in the course of a campaign which has
already lasted eighteen days, made under circumstances
which have tested to the limit the courage and endurance
of the officers and men, demonstrates once more the
indomitable spirit and courage of the officers and men of
this division.
3. The Division
Commander, reiterating the commendation already twice
made of the work of this organization by the Corps
Commander, feels that it is indeed an honor to command
such troops.
ROBERT ALEXANDER,
Major-General, Commanding.
Transmitted to
Commanding Officers 305th and 306th Infs. and 305th M. G.
Bn.
For information.
By Command Of MAJOR-GENERAL WITTENMYER.
E. GARY SPENCER,
Captain, U. S. A.,
Operations Ogicer. H.Q. 153 Inf. Brig. 14th Oct. 10:55 P.
M.
The remainder of the Battalions then got their nerves
severely wracked. From a ditch southeast of town it was
difficult enough for Regimental Headquarters to function,
the place littered with the wounded, dying and dead,
shells dropping all about from time to time. But it was
even more difficult for troops to maneuver about the
marshes and swamps of the Aire river-bed in which men
were plastered from head to foot and their equipment
irretrievably lost, buried under showers of black mud
tossed skyward by the crumping 49 21o's." Extending
its front to the west, toward nightfall, along the
Crand-Pre road was another ghastly performance, rendered
not a whit more delectable by the heavy rain, which fell,
and which continued to fall during the entire night. The
troops of the Third Battalion lay in just as
uncomfortable a position on the hills to the east of the
town.
Yet, this was one
of the most happily expectant moments of our lives. The
Division was to be relieved by the 78th! What did it
matter if the rain came down in torrents? There was a
rest a-coming. What did it matter if the-say, was there
anyone there so utterly miserable that he didn't feel
sorry for the poor old 78th as it crawled into those
hopeless, inadequate positions beyond St. Juvin? Didn't
you feel like apologizing when you offered that slimy
funk hole along the roadside to the clean, well-fed youth
who came to take it over! Didn't you beat it, though,
back through the town in the early morning light,
heedless of the rain, past that shambles at the entrance
to St. Juvin, past all the dead men sitting upright in
funk holes along the left-hand side of the road, past the
wire and the huts and meagre uprootings all along that
crest, past the old dressing station and the headquarters
at the ditch -where you dropped off a few more men just
then wounded during that very relief? It had been worth
living through all the false rumors of relief just to
realize the joy of that moment. After marching, marching,
marching all day through sloppy mud that was ankle-deep,
you approached the old German rest camp at Bouzon and
Sachsenhain, far in the rear, where you would hear, thank
Cod, only the occasional straying shell and pray that the
bombing planes wouldn't come over too often.
A lieutenant wrote:
"I stood at the foot of the trail leading into Camp
de Bouzon watching the stream of faces that passed-white,
weary faces which told more eloquently than words of the
utter fatigue, the nerve-shattering strain, the loss of
good comrades, the rains and the cold and the hunger of
twenty-one days in the fighting-of twenty-four days in
the line-of twenty-two kilos advance. Ragged, mud-caked,
unshaven outcasts they seemed, scarcely able to plant one
foot in front of the other, stumbling down the trail,
eyes staring vacantly-hungry for sleep - bodies as hungry
for shelter, warmth, baths and clean clothes as for hot
food." They crawled into huts, or under pieces of
old corrugated iron, sank at once into a stupor, unable
to sleep, -and dreamed, perhaps:
Me!-a-leadin' a
column!
Me!-that women have loved!
Me a-leadin' a column o' Yanks an' tracin' Her name in
the stars.
Me that ain't seen the purple hills before all mixed in
the skies.
With the gray dawn meltin' to azure there-,
Me, that ain't a poet, growin' poetic;
An' the flash o' the guns on the sky line,
An' red wine-an' France!
An' me laughin'-and War!
An' Slim Jim singin' a song;
An' a lop-eared mule a-kickin' a limber
An' axles 'thout no grease hollerin' "Maggie"
at me!
Me, that women have loved-
An' War goin' on!
Mornin' comin',
An' me-a-leadin' a column
Along o' them from the College
Along o' them from the Streets,
An' them as had mothers that spiled them, and them as
hadn't,-
Lovin' names in the stars,
An' Slim Jim singin' a song,
An' folks to home watchin' 'em, too,
An' Maggie, that never had loved me, lovin' me now,
An' thinkin' an' cryin' for me!-For me
that loved Maggie that never loved me till now.
With War goin' on!
Mornin' comin',
An' me-a-leadin' a column,
An' a town in the valley
Round the bend in the road,
An' Ginger strainin' his neck An' thinkin' o' Picket
Lines-
An' me an' the rest o' them thinkin' o' Home and eggs
down there
in the village,
An' Coney startin' to close at Home
An' Maggie mashed in a crowd-
An' me a-leadin' a column-
An' War goin' on!
Me that hollered for water,
With a splinter of Hell in my side,
Me that have laid in the sun a-cursin' the beggars an'
stretchers
As looked like they'd never 'a' come;
Me that found God with the gas at my throat
An' raved like a madman for Maggie,
An' wanted a wooden cross over me!
Me-knowin' that some 'll be ridin' that's walkin' tonight
-Knowin' that some 'll never see Broadway again,
An' red wine
An' Little Italy,
An' Maggies like mine
-Me! a-murmurin' a prayer for Maggie
An' stoppin' to laugh at Slim,
An' shoutin', "To the right o' the road for the
swoi-zant-canz!
Them babies that raises such Hell up the line,
An' marchin'
An' marchin' by night,
An' sleepin' by day,
An' France,
An' red wine,
An' me thinkin' o' Home,
Me-a-leadin' a column,-
An' War goin' on!
From "Up With the Rations, and Other Poems," By
John Palmer Cumming, Sergeant, Supply Company.