HISTORY
OF THE 305th Infantry Chapter 8 THE MEUSE CHAPTER VIII 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?" 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
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. " 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. " 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: 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. 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. 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:" "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." 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. 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! 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. 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. 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?" |
