HISTORY
OF THE 305th Infantry
by
Frank Tiebout
Chapter 8
THE MEUSE
CHAPTER VIII
THE MEUSE
They didn't think we'd do it, but we did."
WE heard the boastful Argonne Players sing it in the
woods at Camp de Bouzon, and remarked nastily that we'd
rather have fought their kind of war. Or was it then too
early for them to have composed and dedicated to General
Robert Alexander that modest ditty? No doubt at all that
"when Jerry fell in the Argonne Wood," both he
and we " got merry Hell and got it doggone
good!" We had gone the route, and now felt sure
"the big town" that was never reached would
finally materialize.
There was wide-open
talk of an armistice. Everyone thought he had fought his
last fight, that in the general order of things, before
our depleted ranks could get into the line again, either
the war would be over or the opposing armies would have
dug in for the winter. It was growing too cold and wet
for further operations; the men couldn't live through
many more nights in the open. Even the daily drill in
attack formation, the reception of replacements and the
reorganization of combat "gangs," the incessant
practice with grenades, with German "
potato-mashers," with pistol, rifle and automatic
and with captured German machine guns could not make all
the clouds look a dark gray. The old Band was a-workin'
overtime. The first leaves were authorized but. Nobody
got 'em.
Although the French
were of the opinion that the war was over as a result of
the October campaigns, General Pershing rightly lowed as
how the American Army was only just beginning to feel its
oats. The French could call a halt if they wanted to; he
was going on alone to knock the living daylights out o'
Germany and really finish the job. And the Commander in
Chief seemed to feel that the 77th Division ought to be
in at the finish.
There was no
bloodthirsty roar of eager approval when General
Alexander massed the officers and non-coms below the
rostrum at Bouzon. Though we would like to have posterity
think us a bunch of fireeaters, with insatiable appetites
for more and bigger conflagrations, we cannot truthfully
deny that gloom was abroad. However, if the General
wanted to "smash the hinges," the 77th Division
and the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry could still put
weight behind its sledgehammer.
The sun shone
beautifully on the 30th of October, making the overcoat
seem a useless addition to the combat pack as the
Regiment hiked north; but that was about the last good
effort he put forth until the following spring. He gave
up the fight, completely. The bulk of the Regiment lay
quartered that night in Martincourt Farm, south of St.
Juvin and the River Aire, daring the Boche to wipe them
out completely with his artillery, which he could have
done without batting an eye, but which he didn't. The
Third Battalion, that morning, took over a line running
northeast from St. Juvin to St. Georges, from units of
the 78th and 82d Divisions. On the night of the 31st, the
Second Battalion, again under Captain Eaton who had
relinquished command just prior to the relief of the
16th, took over from the 78th Division the very positions
turned over to them on the night of the 15th! That the
lines had not been advanced was a blow, indeed.
Again, the
breathless awaiting of the "zero"
hour-five-thirty, this time -much as on the
never-to-be-forgotten September 26th. Again, an
earth-rocking barrage directed against the known points
of enemy resistance. A colored engineer sweating on the
roads behind St. Juvin found himself close beside the
deafening roar of a heavy battery. He surely had pep and
en-thusiasm; for every time one of the "big
boys" shattered the night air with an ear-splitting
roar he would leap off the ground, crack his heels
together, nigger-fashion, and shout, "Whoopee!
Whoopee! Misto Kaiser, COUNT YO' MEN! "
He certainly would
have hated to be on the other end of that noise; yet it
wasn't loud enough. For when the Division started just
before daylight of the first, the Three Hundred and Fifth
in the lead encountered a tremen-dously strong
resistance, the Third Battalion on the right suffering
about a hundred and thirty casualties from a cross fire
directed upon them from positions in the neighboring
sector east of the Ravin aux Pierres and from the Moulin
Mohin on their front-the Second Battalion reduced to
about half of its morning strength by a scorching fire,
both shell and machine gun, poured down upon their heads
from the high ground at Champigneulle. Late in the
afternoon, Captain Eaton was severely wounded and his
command next day passed to Captain Tiebout. The enemy
trenches to the south of this town continued to be
strongly held until morning.
Yet, by three
o'clock that first afternoon, the Third Battalion had
gained its designated "intermediate" objective
and withstood successfully between that hour and five P.
M. three massed counter attacks, which they tell us were
thrilling enough. That only the intermediate objective of
the first day's attack was reached may be fairly laid to
the fact that our Regiment had to advance along the main
north and south road and, as was natural, that the enemy
had put there his strongest resistance.
But with the
daylight of November 2d, it was found that the bird had
flown. For a couple of hours, the advance was held up
while our cannon playfully threw into Champigneulle all
their surplus ammunition left over from the day
before-the time when it had been really needed. Only here
and there was found and potted a hapless Boche who hadn't
been able to sprint fast enough on the way through Verpel
to Thenorgues where the Regiment dug a defensive position
in a pouring rain -not so much facing the north as the
west; for the 78th was far in the rear, leaving our flank
exposed. There, however, G Company would have had their
first hot coffee had not some poor, witless, bone-headed
boob tipped over the marmite can! Oooh! He was popular.
Yet one need really
never despair, either in camp or on the battlefield, when
men say, " When do we eat? " for it is
quasi-humorous and really means, " We'd be
tremendously happy boys if the chow were to be handed out
this minute." Even when men are desperately hungry,
it betrays a persistent good humor, patience, vitality
and a tenacity of purpose. It is so with the struggling
infantryman pushing on through the forest in the face of
enemy machineguns or, when hastily digging a funk hole,
weathering shell fire, cursing the rain and the mud or
bailing out a trench. It is so with the weary doughboy
coming back from a relief, or with the machine gunner
bent beneath the ungodly weight of a tripod, stumbling
over a drunken duck-board, groping for his file leader in
the ap-palling darkness, slipping and sliding on narrow
forest paths. It is so when he falls at last
comparatively safe into a ravine, though the first of his
four days of promised rest has been consumed in marching
from the lines to the back areas through almost
impassable mud; though the second day of the "rest
" be spoiled by having to move in the rain from Camp
de Bouzon over the hills to Camp Sachsenhain; though the
third day be ruined by having to tramp-again in the rain
and overwhelming mud-clear back to Varennes for a
questionably efficient bath; though the socks so lovingly
put together by the Auxiliary are slow in arriving, and
the letters from home are not promptly delivered. Just at
the point where a Bolshevik might lay down his arms and
refuse to play any more a crisis is averted by the simple
words, "Hey, when do we eat?"
The foot race was resumed, the other Brigade leading the
way through Buzancy, Bar and Harricourt. The towns flew
by so fast that the panting doughboys howled for rest,
stopping not even long enough really to enjoy a chunk of
bully beef and half a succulent cabbage snatched in
passing from the Franco-German war gardens. Ever test the
refreshing effects of raw cabbage leaf? Nibble a piece of
it while hastening to the office some morning; see if it
doesn't quench your thirst, your thought, your ardor and
everything else.

Headquarters
group of 2n Bn., 305th Inf., leaving Thenorgues, morning
of November 3, 1918 advancing toward Buzancy, which can
be faintly discerned in the background
"Alexander's Rag-Time Band" was on its last
legs. The rapid advance over rough ground was little more
than a route-march in attack formation, with little food,
little rest and spasmodic bursts of intense shell fire. A
touch of gas flung over the first day was gradually
claiming its victims; men were dropping from sheer
exhaustion, bronchitis and disappointment. Units had
great difficulty in keeping contact, while runners cursed
the day they were born, and signal men romped all over
the place in an effort to tie up the various elements
fore and aft with wire. Colonel Lewis Morey, who prior to
the attack had taken over command of the Regiment when
our good old Colonel Smedberg was promoted to the rank of
Brigadier-General, was generally with the front line
troops, making his P. C. in a shell hole, a battered
house or his motor car-switching the lights on
momentarily, perhaps, by which to read a map, then
opening the throttle wide to escape the sudden flock of
shells seeking to perch on the tip of the radiator.
In Fontenoy and St. Pierremont, there was time for a
breathing spell, while the 154th Brigade took up the
forward line-though men of the Second Battalion, who
huddled into a tremendous railroad cut through which the
308th Infantry passed in single file all during the day
of the 4th, will tell you that the shelling which enemy
observers of the movement directed into their snug
retreat was no joke. They buried good comrades there, and
wondered how shells could land upon the very rails and
not kill off all the men who flopped in the adjacent
ditches.
More shelling
overtook the long columns of the Third and Second
Battalions as they snaked northward, all day long, in
single file through the Bois de St. Pierremont, past La
Polka farm, where a number lie buried who fell when a
dozen "H. E.'s" scored direct hits. It was as
black pitch and raining cats and dogs when they emerged
upon the east and west road near Le Cendriere Farm and
dug into the sodden road bank for the most miserable
night of their lives.
Dig in! The rifle
was many times on the point of being discarded in favor
of an extra shovel. If New York ever wants to build
another subway, the Three Hundred and Fifth can furnish
enough expert excavators to finish the job in a week or
so. A word of advice to those who visit a friend in the
suburbs over a weekend: master the habit of months spent
under the magic spell of pick and shovel. Don't be found
in your evening clothes digging a funk hole on the front
lawn; use the bed your host provides. When his little boy
touches off a firecracker under your chair, don't yell
"Down," and flop on the floor. When upon the
links, don't point out a good position for the night in
the lee of some bunker. On the other hand, if the
ordinary comforts of home begin to lose their charm,
select some nice rainy afternoon for the resurrection of
your old haversack from the cellar. If you haven't the
haversack, strap a bag of meal upon your shoulders; take
an old shot gun, a bag of rocks,, a can of salmon, an
empty flask, a crazy quilt and no umbrella; walk ten
miles out into the country; dig a grave, lie down in it
and try to fall asleep before it fills to the rim with
water. If by morning you haven't shivered yourself into a
state of thanksgiving for the blessings of peace, stay
there. You won't deserve even the old brass bed and the
cracked water pitcher in the little hall room.
Chaplain Johnson paints a vivid picture of that night at
Le Cendriere:
"In the first arduous laps of the march, a sturdy
private produced a burlap bag out of which he rolled
three two-pound cans of beef, a like number of jam, two
cans of sardines, some condensed milk, considerable
prunes-and was almost murdered for his great wealth. He
invariably staggered under such a load of food that the
observant eye was confounded. Thanks to him and his
peculiarities many weary, hungry men had often tasted
food when they could reasonably have expected none-and
this happened with a frequency which begot expectancy.
" To the
superficial observer, this bounty should seem to have
depleted his store but to one knowing him, it was plain,
on close inspection, that in addition to the complete
equipment of the soldier, there hung from one shoulder a
sack tied in the middle with bulging ends; from the other
a two-quart German can; and through the tight lacings of
his haversack peeped a bright can or two.
" The day was
well nigh spent and wrapped in drizzling rain. The trail
was narrow, slippery and interminable in its windings.
Angry tree trunks seemed unrelenting in their opposition;
saplings struck out in smart revenge for one's brushing
them. Felled trees must be scrambled over in the trying
darkness which came on quickly. But the weary column
struggled through the wretched way, finally emerging upon
an open road. In a veritable down-pour the troops dug
meagre protection from the incessant shelling, in the
sodden banks.
" Near the lines of weary, wet men, who lay on the
roadside for the night, were a few farm buildings. A
long, narrow cow stable squeezed between two dwellings
was filled with wounded men who had been there all day
without succor. In another building lay more wounded,
hungry and suffering. The farm was in total darkness
except for one small room crowded with men and officers,
some of whom were lying asleep, others standing or
sitting as best they could, a few bending over the
tattered battle maps upon a table.
" Suddenly
there spread through every building in the place the
words, 'There's Ratti!' bringing new life and cheer. That
old burlap bag and the German two-quart can furnished
every wounded soldier a mess of steaming rice and all the
coffee he wanted. Everyone had something out of it."
By some miracle of
mules and persuasion the cookers had come up over badly
mined and muddy roads to a point behind La Besace, to
which point some were fortunate enough to be allowed to
repair at dawn-in the unceasing downpour. Then through La
Besace which was a sea of mud, there finding the
liberated civilians grouped ecstatically in the streets,
the Third Battalion followed by the rest of the Regiment
took up the advance again and plunged sharply eastward
into dense woods, in the direction of the Meuse. On the
6th their advance was continued, now supported by the
First Battalion which had been under command of Major
Frank Sloane since the 1st. Would the Boche never make a
stand? Even a fight would have saved us that everlasting
hike! The Commander of the First Army Corps evidently
appreciated the rapidity of the advance:
HEADQUARTERS 77TH DIVISION
American E. F.
6th November, 1918. General Orders No. 36.
1. The following is published for the information of this
Command:
"964/G3 HEADQUARTERS 1ST ARMY CORPS
Nov. 6, 1918. "From: C. G. I st Army Corps, U. S.
To: C. G. 77th Division, U. S. Subject: Commendation.
"1. The following telegram just received from the
Commanding General, 1st Army, is repeated for your
information.
WIDEWING, Nov. 5-6,
Commanding General, 1st Corps.
"Number 238, see G. S. The army commander desires
that you be informed of his full appreciation of the
excellent work done by your corps during the last three
days. He realizes fully the special efforts exerted and
spirit that has prompted the troops of your command
during these operations. The rapidity of the advance
notwithstanding hostile opposition has been remarkable
and prevented the enemy from reorganizing. The result has
been to force the enemy back on his whole front. The army
commander desires that you transmit his congratulations
and appreciations to the troops of your command for this
work.-DRUM."
" 2. To the foregoing the Corps Commander desires to
record his warm congratulations and appreciation of the
work done by the divisions of the Corps.
"3. He desires that the foregoing commendation be
communicated to all concerned, including especially the
engineers, signalmen, supply and laborer troops, without
whose splendid efforts the results obtained could not
have been accomplished.
By command of Major Gcneral Dickman,
MALIN CRAIG,
Chief of Staff."
2. In publishing the above high commendation for the work
done by the officers and men of the 1st Army Corps, I
wish to express my personal gratitude for the untiring
and successful efforts made by all officers and men of
this Division, especially since this Division alone
remains in the line of those present at the beginning of
the general operation November 1st. In the face of the
greatest difficulties caused by continuous rains, enemy
demoli-tions, and active resistance, this Division has
pushed forward magnificently, overcoming all obstacles
met in our advance. It is no exaggeration to say that
this Division has taken more ground and material from the
enemy since September 26th than any other Division in the
American Army, and probably more than any other Division
in any allied Army in this period. Without the most
strenuous exertions and the most loyal cooperations on
the part of the entire Division-officers and men-the
results secured would have been impossible.
3. 1 desire
especially to commend the conduct of the attached units,
viz.: 12th Aero Squadron; 2d Balloon Company, Co. G, 53d
Pioneers; and the 506th S. S. U. Section.
ROBERT ALEXANDER,
Major-General Commanding.
It was expected that troops of the Third Battalion could
do no more by the night of the 6th than to occupy the
heights west of the Meuse, sending patrols through
Autrecourt and to the river. But the entire L Company,
willing to undertake 'most anything in their quest of
food, was joyously received by the inhabitants of
Autrecourt that night, and it may have been due to its
great capacities that these civilians had to be rationed
immediately after the 11th by the Americans. K Company
sent a platoon into Mouzen and to Villers-devant-Mouzon.
The remainder of
the Regiment pulled into the former town, footsore and
weary on the afternoon of the 7th, expecting to go on,
for so read the orders. Engineers at Villers were having
the Devil's own time erecting a bridge, under machine gun
fire and shelling of ever-increasing intensity, to oppose
which, K Company sent two platoons across, holding them
there until nightfall. The First Battalion was rushed to
the scene to cover the building operations, while other
elements scouted the towns for raft and bridge building
materials.
Villers became a hell-hole, with its constant shelling,
the deadly machine gun fire and its blood. Yet A Company,
all its officers lost and its ranks sadly depleted,
succeeded in getting two platoons across, relieved the
tired troops of K and routed out enemy guns, suffering
terribly the while. On the next day it was considered a
needless sacrifice to hold this bridge head, the troops
being withdrawn-some to the heights and others into
shelter in the towns, where only occasional shelling took
place as though forbidden by some previous arrangement
with the inhabitants, and where there was food.
The night of the
9th found troops of the Second Battalion struggling
through the woods far to the left, taking over positions
of the 307th, the First maintaining its occupancy of the
right front. For the Division was extending its front to
the north and west to a point almost within sight of
Sedan. There were rumors of relief-there had been,
constantly; it was certainly due.
There would have
been gnashing of teeth could the plodding doughboys, then
almost ready to weep from exhaustion and exposure, have
known that an order was already started on its way
(fortunately killed) for the 77th to take over the
positions on the extreme left where the 42d had in the
last few days relieved the 78th. As it was, they had to
go through the formality of maintaining a strong outpost
line, patrolling the wide front, though their eyes had
taken on a stupid stare. " Stay with it, boys. The
rations will be coming along in quantity soon. But in the
meantime, feed on this, drawing whatever consolation you
can from the last three lines of the second
Paragraph:"
HEADQUARTERS 77TH DIVISION
American E. F.
November 10th, 1918. General Orders No. 37.
1. The following General Order of the 1st Army is
published for the information of all concerned:
"After
constant fighting for over one month, the 1st American
Army launched an attack against the German Army which had
established itself for determined resistance. In five
days it had penetrated 25 kilometers and had driven the
enemy in retreat before it. Its brilliant success, in
connection with the 4th French Army on its left, forced
the Germans to retreat on a broad front. This Army has
fought and marched and endured the rigors of campaign
with the most superb indifference to everything except
the deter-mination to go forward and imprint upon the
enemy the mark of its courage and resolutions.
"All arms and
services of those in advance who smashed the way,
including those in the air who rendered aggressive and
meritorious service, and those in the rear who, by their
untiring industry made possible the continued advance,
are worthy of the highest praise and gratitude of their
admiring country. The Army Commander is proud of such an
army; he thanks it for the splendid results already
achieved and looks with confidence to the still greater
successes that lie before it."
By Command Of MAJOR-GENERAL ALEXANDER.
C. 0. SHERRILL,
Colonel, G. S., Chief of Staff. Official:
Louis B. GEROW,
Adjutant-General, Division Adjutant.
What greater success could lie before anyone at this
point than to find a roof, to build a fire, and lie
almost on top of it? The world is dark at five o'clock.
At ten you and your bunkies take turns rubbing each other
to keep warm. You cover your head with the blanket so as
not to waste the warmth expelled from your lungs; enough
fresh air can get through the pores of that blanket
anyhow. The sentry you are due to relieve awakens you at
dawn. The frost is on the pumpkiner, that is, it would
be, if there were any pump-kin. But if there had been any
wild pumpkin roaming about loose, it would have been
caught and eaten raw, long since. Under the lee of the
steep hill-sides which defilade this position from
intermittent artillery fire, the grass is pure white. And
so are the long ravines and the steep slopes leading down
into the river mists and over to the enemy lines at
Ablimont-where Lieutenant MacDowell and Sergeant Barth
have been prowling about, three kilos deep into the enemy
system, gaining information at the risk of their lives;
Barth, with his knowledge of German parleying
successfully in the dark with enemy sentries; both
deserving the Distinguished Service Cross, but only the
officer getting it. Sergeant, you too should have been
decorated. Your citation appears in the "ice
box" at the back of the book, along with a host of
other deserving recommendations.
For the moment,
there is peaceful silence, just as if the war were over
-only the hushed voices of half-frozen men. For the most
part, it is a silence of utter exhaustion. Occasionally,
the short little words, "When do we eat?"
Those last days
were terribly hard. We had never had any play days, no
real rest or recreation-under shell fire and worse
practically since June 20th. Time and again it had been
rumored and actually announced by competent authority
that NOW the 77th was to get a rest! But always, there
had been just one more pressing job for the 77th to do.
Over four months in the line! An advance of thirty-seven
kilometers since November 1st. An advance of fifty-nine
kilometers since September 26th, under fire all the way!
The men were fatigued when they began their advance of
November. Losses had been heavy, particularly on that
first day. Jerry had pulled out so fast that weary troops
could not catch him. The frightfully torn condition of
the ground, the abandoned ordnance, limbers and wagons
and the slain horses, from which half starved civilians
had hastily cut the steaks, attested the murderous work
of our long-range and lighter artillery which had
prevented the Boche from resetting his pieces into
position, and which had made such a rapid advance
possible.
That, and sheer
grit. The troops had far outstripped the supply trains.
One of the chiefest difficulties of the Argonne-Meuse
Offensive had been the inadequacy of the roads. What
there were had been bombed and mined to pieces by the
retreating Boches. Of course, it would have been
different during these last days, had it been known that
newspapers were first screaming, "Peace," and
then, " Fake," as early as the 8th. While
little old New York was rehearsing its part for Monday
the 11th, the innocent doughboy was still plodding his
weary way along the heights of the Meuse, empty of food,
but full of rumor -rumor of the relief which didn't come.
A thrilling order
had once been received announcing in Paragraph '.No. I
that the First Army Corps to which the 77th then belonged
would be at once relieved by the Fifth Army Corps; in
Paragraph No. 2 it went on to say that the
77thDivisionwas thereby transferred to the Fifth Army
Corps! But to offset this, Buck had a buddy who was a
runner at Brigade. The runner had been back in St. Juvin
and had sure dope. He had seen a strange supply truck
full of hay. On the hay rode a doughboy dressed in a
civilian swallow-tail coat, and stovepipe hat, carrying a
child's pink parasol. And he said- that he belonged to
the 6th Division!
Here was news, indeed. About to be relieved by a bale of
hay and a pink parasol! As a matter of fact, the, 6th was
hastening from the rear; but it had been unable to catch
up. Consequently, the rumor died. "Yeah, same old
bull! "
On the night of the
10th, the Second Battalion's total of a hundred and
fifty-two effective men were outposting the Meuse from
Villers to the Pont de Garde. The phone jangled
nervously; G Company was ordered out as a combat patrol
over the river at Villers, and the scout officer with his
crew and a reel of wire in the hands of the signal men
ran a phone over the bridge to the old mill on the German
side. The Battalion was in readiness to cross the river
for an attack at any minute. Then, at midnight, a
mysterious call from headquarters, not to act upon the
information sought and to withdraw the patrols!
At dawn, Battalion
Headquarters lay shivering in its funk-hole. Somewhere
under the Adjutant's right shoulder blade the telephone
rang again. It must have been a tremendous message; for
not until the Staff had heard it repeated a number of
times did its full import sink into his cranium;
where-upon he (the Staff), his telephone, his entire
equipment and the roof of the bivvy fell with an ecstatic
crash upon the Battalion Commander's neck.
HEADQUARTERS FIRST ARMY CORPS
American Expeditionary Forces
11, November, 18. General Order No. 17.
EXTRACT
2. An armistice with Germany has been signed. All
hostilities cease at 11 Hour, 11 November.
All communication with the enemy is forbidden pending
definite and detailed instructions to the contrary. The
fact must be emphasized in no uncertain manner that the
present state of affairs is an armistice only and not a
peace, and that there must be no relaxation of vigilance
on the part of your command.
Advantage will be
taken of the occasion to rehabilitate equipment, push
training and prepare troops for further operations at any
instant demanded by the situation.
All unit commanders
will take special steps to insure a high state of
discipline, and to this end division, brigade,
regimental, battalion and smaller unit commanders will
personally inspect organizations daily with a view to
reporting their units equipped, trained and ready for
service.
By command Of MAJOR-GENERAL DICKMAN.
MALIN CRAIG,
Chief of Staff Official:
W. A. HAVERFIELD,
Lieut.-Colonel, A. G. D.
The Armistice was a reality! There never was such a
celebration as the one which ensued. No. There was very
little noise. There were no horns to blow, no cowbells to
ring, no strangers to pound on the back, no jobs to quit,
no holiday. All such nonsense is for silly, civilized
people who live in houses and work when not celebrating.
The few men who were still in their holes-one could never
keep the American doughboy under cover where he
belonged-got out and stretched; stretched the kinks out
of their rheumatic limbs.
But wait! It was
not yet eleven, and there was to be no forward movement
of troops after that hour. Under cover of the mist,
Martin snaked his telephone back to the mill, crossing
the rickety bridge at ten-fifty, while the Boches took
their last devilish fling at him with their artillery.
The men not on actual outpost duty were dragged forward
into a couple of luxurious cowsheds, where the reserve
cans of Corned Willie were cracked open with festive
cheer and a bayonet. Oh-it should be said that the first
thing they did was to build real, -honest-to-God
fires-big ones, hot ones such as they hadn't seen for
weeks, calculated to take the chill out of one's marrow
in no time at all.
And lights at
night, a whole row of them, without fear of calling down
the aerial bombs and "whizz-bangs." Ever since
we'd been in France, we had longed for the comfort of
lights at night. Here they were, not only on our side of
the river, but on the enemy's.
" Oh, I say,
when do we really eat?"