FIRST AID
ON FOUR FRONTS IN
WORLD WAR I
308th Medical Detachment
Letters written by,
Sgt. 1st
Class
William D. Conklin
NOVEMBER
(Written
at La Forge Farm, between Haraucoort and Angecourt,
Ardennes)
November 10, 1918
While I have a possible chance, I must let you know that
I am all right, We have had a great experience in chasing
the Boches across miles of French territory, They
evacuated in such haste, ahead of the big push in which
our Division was only one of many, that the Problem most
of the time was how to keep up with the glorious
procession, In a week we passed through upward of twenty
towns, and, I estimate, must have covered about 60 kilos
by road and probably 35 or 40 as the bird flies. Though
the prospect often seemed poor. I was so lucky as to have
a roof over my head every night (or at any rate part of
every night). Occasionally there was even a good bunk or
a mattress instead of the floor which if dry can be at
times as welcome as a luxurious bed would be ordinarily.
For a couple of days our kitchen could not keep up with
us, but we missed a meal only now and then, The
rear-guard action of the enemy, all that he could put up
after being forced off the heights (above the Aisne and
the Aire), resulted in keeping us back on several
occasions. Two or three times we came near entering a
town, Colonel's car and all, before the place had been
mopped up, Once at sundown, after dodging shells in a
railway cut part of the afternoon, the Headquarters
Detachment took to the ties, headed by our two Chaplains
(James J. Halligan and Russell G. Nye). We started up the
track and across lots toward a village (Oches) where our
"P.C." was supposed to be established that
night. After we had gone two or three kilos, a machine
gun began popping a few yards away, and, not being
intended as a combat party, we made a dignified but
speedy return, without anybody's giving a command! Those
who knew, or thought they did figured it out afterward
that the gun was one of our own, but it made a sound like
trouble, whomever it belonged to.
At the start of the second phase of the Argonne--Meuse
offensive, on November 1st, our Regimental Headquarters
was picturesquely established in a big quarry pit at
Pylone, about midway between Lancon and Chatel--Cheherys
on a cross road through the forest. We had come up to it
the day before from Chene Tondu. The great bar-rage that
initiated the drive went over our heads in the early
morning. Being in reserve, we did not advance till the
morning of the 2nd. Our route took us through the Bois de
Cornay to Marcq and on to St, Juvin. Near this place we
were allowed to build great bonfires at suppertime,
because, it was said, the enemy had retreated so far that
it would make no difference. We kept on that night to
Verpel, arriving in the early morning. I had Captain W's
(Wagner's) horse to ride. He and other officers were
picked up by a Signal Corps truck, At Champigneulle we
took the wrong turn and did not discover the mistake till
we got, to Beffu. Between there and Verpel the road was
under fire, and between Verpel and Thenorgues the
shelling was so heavy that the column was stopped at
Verpel and we did not advance till next noon. We found
that the Germans had filled the large church with tiers
of wire bunks, and took advantage of these.
The next night, after a very trying, rainy march through
Thenorgues and Briquenay, was spent in the church at
Germont. A double balcony on each side of the interior
had been built in the barracks. The walls were decorated
with bible texts in German. On the 4th we passed through
Autruche, and after failing to get to Oches, spent the
night at St. Pierremont. The night of the 5th saw us in
La Berliere, having stayed part of a day in Oches. Next
we passed through Stonne and La Besace, where the roofs
were covered with white flags, and the night of the 6th
we spent in Raucourt. On the 7th we reached Angecourt,
and there we remained for three days. When the Armistice
was signed we had come to a more satisfactory
headquarters at La Forge Farm, about half a mile south of
Angecourt.
There was hardly a day during our long hike when it
didn't rain, more or less, and the mud became one of our
worst obstacles. We ploughed or slopped through it,
according to the local conditions, and waited
indefinitely for a chance to scrape shoes and leggings.
That chance came a few days ago when headquarters was
established in a large house formerly occupied by German
officers. For a Surgeon's office and infirmary combined
we were assigned a big room, the most appreciated feature
of which was a stove, It also had a look across a garden
to the surrounding country, so that we were able to keep
a close watch on incoming shells. We had to spend most of
our time, however, getting caught up on reports; but when
the order came to dive into the dugout there was nothing
to do but dive.
The day -we arrived, the Town Major, notified the
civilian population, who had been living under German
rule for four years, that they must evacuate, since there
were allied troops in the town. The Boches had allowed
just 2 hours from the time they themselves evacuated, and
promised to shell the town at the end of that time if the
civilians had not left. When only a few hours of grace
remained, the people began to collect their possessions.
it was a curious lot of bundles, baskets, packages, and
means of transportation, and an altogether pitiful
procession that began to straggle back toward towns out
of the danger zone. Nearly all the refugees were old men
and old women, grandfathers and grandmothers. I saw a few
young girls, but only one man under sixty, These people
were trying to take with them everything that they
possessed, with the exception of furniture. And they had
no horses or mules or oxen just baby carriages (those
were the lucky ones), wheelbarrows, and great wicker.
carriers that they strapped to their backs. You would not
believe how heavy some of the loads were.
It happened that quite a few of us had nothing that
needed attention just then, and we did what we could to
help. Half a dozen German prisoners were brought along
and we transferred some big loads from the backs of old
women to theirs. Sometimes we saw a wheelbarrow that was
not quite full, and by offering to push it, got
permission to add somebody else's pack. Two fellows
carried a very aged and frail lady the whole distance to
her friends in the next town.
Another woman, both of whose feet were malformed, hobbled
along alone, at a snail's pace. Another was carrying as
necessary to her future happiness half a dozen umbrellas,
besides countless other things. Although leaving their
homes and much that they valued, these refugees were
remarkably self-contained and brave. The only hysteria I
saw was at the start, when the order came through that
they must go. Then it was the girls who were most
excited. As it turned out, I don't think there was a
single aged or infirm person that was not looked out for
by the American soldiers, and relieved of a load that I
think should have killed them. It shows how hardy these
peasants are that they should even make the attempt.
One group that stood out from all the rest, and the only
one containing a young man, comprised the husband and
wife, a baby three days old, and another youngster too
small to walk. The father, who looked anything but husky,
had fastened a mattress to a large wheel-barrow. On this
he had placed the mother and babe, and the small boy, and
he was undertaking to push the whole outfit two
kilometers over a rough road. They were taking with then,
a small supply of food and some clothing. Four of us
overtook this strange modern version of the flight into
Egypt before the family had gone beyond the town. We
"spelled" one another at the handles, two
steadying the front of the barrow. At last we saw them
all landed safely among friends. They insisted that we
should take a can of their precious condensed milk as a
souvenir of the incident.
Another interesting experience was that of the preceding
night (the 6th). Just as it began to grow dark, which
hereabouts, means five o'clock or earlier, we drew in to
the edge of a good-sized town (Raucourt), only to be
informed of a Divisional order that no troops should be
quartered there during the night. They must get such
shelter as they could in some shacks outside the town
limits and be ready to move out at 6:30 the next morning.
This prospect looked rather forlorn, so I insisted on
going to the Headquarters and reporting to Capt. W
(Wagner)--who very shortly received his promotion to
Major. He had got stuck somewhere in the rear, together
with the Regimental limousine; but the Adjutant kindly
told us to fix ourselves up at Headquarters for the
night. It turned out to be a very comfortable place,
where we did not hit the hay or a board floor, but real
mattresses.
First of all, we were interested in hunting up something
to eat. Our rolling kitchens were miles back, and it
looked as if we would go to bed hungry unless luck was
with us. We heard that the Germans, who had been out of
the town only a few hours, had set fire to a great bakery
and storehouse. The fire had been brought under control,
and a large quantity, hundreds of loaves, of rye broad
had been rescued. Two Intelligence Department sergeants
and I set out to hunt up the supply. We saw a light in
the basement of a house and stopped to inquire the way.
The people insisted that we should come in, and they then
and there laid out a supper for us, including coffee and
bread spread with apple butter and mincemeat, They were
eager to show us the gratitude of people released from
German bondage, and to tell us about their experiences.
The Boches had taken over their farms and then made the
inhabitants work them for a franc and a half (30 cents)
a day. This family proved to be one of many ready to give
us a cordial welcome
They said that such supplies of good food as they had they owed to the
Red Cross. I believe this experience impressed on us as nothing else
could how worth while it is to help along the work of delivering these kindly
folk from hard masters. After our unexpected Supper, we
hunted up the great bakery, and helped to distribute
bread to the whole regiment.
The news has just come to us that the German government has until tomorrow noon to decide whether they will
comply with Marshal Foch's terms. If they do not give in
now, they will find themselves being wiped off the face
of the earth. Nothing can stop this advance.
(Written at La Faubourg, on the Mouse Opposite Mouzon)
November 17, 1918
What a grand finish it has been! It is hard to sense the
significance of it, just as, for a long time, we could
not realize how big the war really was. Of course, at
once we wanted to know when we were going home. For the
last week we have been alternately throwing up our caps
in the prospect of leaving soon, and plumbing the depths
of despair at counter rumors, These dark hints indicated
that we might remain on indefinitely --to help clean up
the front yards and the back yards and become part of an
army of occupation. It seems to be pretty well assured
now that this Division will not remain any longer than is
absolutely necessary, as the President wants the National
Army units returned to the United States. Since the 77th
was the first such unit sent over, it is reasonable to
expect that an effort will be made to get us back soon.
But it would be foolish to raise hopes too high, counting
on a reunion by Christmas time or anything of that sort.
It might come to pass and then again it mightn't.
Perhaps it looks selfish for us to be so concerned about
our own movements. We ought to be glad just to have the
war over, and of course we are, I guess we really avoid
thinking just how thankful we are that the Boche is
really fini and that he realizes it. We were ready, if it
was necessary, for a push on into German territory
(actual Germany) and we had reached a point where
shelling would be felt by many German civilian occupants
of towns like Sedan. We heard that German women who had
come to live in Sedan had made slaves, practically, of
all the French women there. I always maintained that
Fritz, if it came to a showdown such as the destruction of
his own towns, would collapse.
A day after the Armistice went into effect, we started
back, stopping for the night in a town (Oches) which we
had passed through in the advance only a few days before.
Then came an awful blow--another move the next day, but
in the wrong direction. We marched partly east, but also
undeniably north (to Beaumont). The following day,
another hike, still in the wrong direction, accompanied
by the rumor that we were to hike all the way to the
Rhine, following up the German evacuation. But that is
not the present prospect. In fact we wait every hour for
orders to march, and we hope it will not be many weeks
before we are crossing the Atlantic. It may be that I
shall not be able to get mail through from now on, so
don't be surprised if you don't hear. I expect there will
be a warning whistle from some-where before we get in
sight of Old Lady Liberty again.
I hope that the terrible epidemic is under control by
now. I am afraid we have been so wrapped up in ourselves
over here that we failed to realize what a time you have
been having. It is a wonder some such plague has not
struck us. The worst thing we have had to stand was
prevalent digestive trouble.
I am having a hard time learning to eat sauerkraut. The
Germans left barrels of it behind at this place, and the
kitchens get the spoils and later we do. We are living in
a group of shacks that used to be a German training camp.
We have a mess hall that is reminiscent of Camp Upton.
It seems too good to be true that we don't have to put up
the shutters any more at night, or avoid striking a match
outdoors after dark; and we hope there will be no more
hikes at unnatural hours, or tent-pitching on those very
frosty nights. For a week there has been no noise more
alarming than an explosion of dynamite. Just what this
means after six months of bombs and shells I think you
may guess.
At 11 o'clock on the 11th I happened to be on the main
street of Haraucourt, A town crier was going from corner
to corner, gathering a little knot of people each time,
and reading off the same notice about the Armistice. The
people seemed to take the news very calmly. Probably like
us, they were rather skeptical of what looked like more
rumors. Or else they had exhausted their stock of
emotions. One night without shelling and we would all
begin to believe this was something besides a trick. The
refugees needed only one such night. In the morning they
began to stream back, with all their goods, to
Angecourt--the point of our farthest advance.
The name Angecourt, which I suppose, means "Angel Court," I shall always
associate with a really diabolical experience. One afternoon two men
from one of the companies brought in to us a fellow who, they said, had
been acting "queer." They begged us to keep him overnight, and we agreed
to let him sleep in the Infirmary. A, casual examination did not show
anything wrong. We hunted up extra blankets and bedded him on the
floor like the rest of us. In the middle of the night he
got up and stumbled headlong over the row of us, and we
woke up with a start, supposing that Jerry had come for
us at last. We got a candle lit and persuaded our patient
to quiet down. It was clear enough from the way he talked
that he was out of his head. As soon as the room was dark
again, he became uneasy., and we finally had to leave the
light, although candles were precious,
We resolved to pack him off in haste in the morning, but
as it turned out, we could not get an ambulance till
nearly noon. In the meantime, the poor chap led us a
lively chase. He had a way of vanishing like smoke when
our backs were turned for a moment. Twice I had to hunt
through the town for him, The first time I found him
without cap or coat, though it was raining, with shoes
untied and minus leggings. We all breathed a sigh of
relief when he was installed in the ambulance, on the
front seat where the driver could keep an eye on him. We
didn't intend to have the Division Surgeon hear of a man
from the Regiment who had been found wandering about,
tagged by us for the hospital!
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