ilEAYEN.HELL 
 DP HaBaKEN 
 
 Hay if.«JoNNSO»^ 
 
Class __lM:|iI 
 Book. 3.: 
 
 (!oipglitN°_J_4sS 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
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HEAVEN, HELL, OR 
 HOBOKEN 
 
 By 
 
 Ray Neil Johnson 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 Don Palmer 
 Vic Norris 
 
 The slogan of the A. E. F.— 
 
 "Boys, weMl be in Heaven, Hell, or 
 Hoboken by Christmas !" 
 
 — Black Jack Pershini. 
 
COPYRIGHT 1919 
 RAY N. JOHNSON 
 
 ^^^ lb !9ii) 
 
 ©CI.A52993 
 
 'Jlsno 
 
 ra/"^ 
 
 V1^ 
 
 IP 
 
 The o. s. Hubbell printing Co 
 cleveland. o. 
 
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 Dedicated to Those Who Suffered Most — 
 Our Mothers. " 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 THIS book was originally written for members of the 
 Machine Gun Company, 145th Infantry, 37th 
 Division, but since it contains information of so 
 much interest to the public it has been put on the 
 market. 
 
 It is a truthful account, based on actual daily records, 
 of our experiences in the U. S. Army from the time of 
 the induction of the National Guard into Federal 
 Service, July 15th, 1917, to the date of our discharge, 
 April 22nd, 1919. 
 
 Nothing has been exaggerated, and nothing has been 
 under-rated. We have dealt equally with great battles 
 and small incidents of our army life; both the tragic and 
 the comic, the sublime and the ridiculous have been 
 described in detail. 
 
 We firmly believe, after having scoured the magazine 
 and newspaper articles as well as the books dealing with 
 the experiences of men in The World War, that nowhere 
 in the world has been published such an unbiased nar- 
 ration of actual experience as this. 
 
 It is far from being a literary masterpiece. Its power 
 lies in the fact that it is the Truth. It is the War from 
 the enlisted man's point of view. 
 
 RAY N. JOHNSON, 
 
 Private, U. S. Army.. 
 
 I endorse the foregoing statement in full. 
 
 (Signed) CHARLES L. WEDOW, 
 
 Captain Inf., U. S. Army. 
 
 (Signed) CHARLES C. CHAMBERS, 
 
 Lt. Col. Inf., U. S. Army. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Pagre 
 
 Cleveland -----__5 
 
 Montgomery - - - - - - 18 
 
 France - - - - - - -42 
 
 Goncourt ---._- 45 
 
 Bru --.-... 52 
 
 Alsace-Lorraine ------ 60 
 
 Badonviller - - - - - - -63 
 
 Clairupt - - - - - - 69 
 
 Ker-ar-Vor - - - - - - -73 
 
 Pexonne ------ 76 
 
 The Argonne - - - - - - -92 
 
 St. Mihiel - - - - - - II7 
 
 Belgium - - , - - - - - 125 
 
 Ypres ------ 126 
 
 First Offensive in Flanders - - _ . _ 135 
 
 Second Flanders Drive - - - _ . 147 
 
 The Armistice ------ 150 
 
 Hundelgem ------ 153 
 
 Iseghem ------- 155 
 
 Arneke ------ 163 
 
 Pre-en-Pail - - - - - - - 169 
 
 Fye ------ 172 
 
 Brest - - - - - . - 173 
 
 Homeward Bound - - - - - -177 
 
 In Memorium ---___ 190 
 
 Casualty List - - - - - - 191 
 
 Roster - - - - - - - 193 
 
Official Service Record 
 
 Machine Gun Co., I45tli U. S. Infantry. 
 
 Baccarat Sector Aug. 4 to Sept. 16, 1918 
 
 Avocourt Sector Sept. 21 to Sept. 25, 1918 
 
 Pannes Sector (St. Mihiel) Oct. 7 to Oct. 16, 1918 
 
 Meuse-Argonne Offensive Sept. 26 to Oct. 1, 1918 
 
 Flanders Offensive, forcing crossing of Lys and Escaut Rivers 
 
 Oct. 31 to Nov. 4, 1918 
 
 Flanders Offensive, forcing crossing of Escaut River at Syngem 
 
 Nov. 9 to Nov. 11, 1918 
 
s mmmmmmimmv9u 
 
 On Bolivar Road, near the corner of Prospect Avenue and East 
 Fourteenth Street, Cleveland, Ohio, there is a weatherbeaten brick 
 building with a single stone tower at one corner ; a round tower with 
 long narrow windows and medieval battlements, like the dungeon- 
 keep of an ancient castle, dark and forbidding in aspect. A great 
 arched entrance with broad stone steps and massive wooden doors 
 opens into a small lobby or ante-room, from which entrance is gained 
 to the hall with its galleries and stage, where many a famous 
 orator or lecturer has addressed his audience. It is good old Grays' 
 Armory, the home of the Cleveland Grays, and dear to the hearts of 
 the "old men" of the Machine Gun Company because of its countless 
 associations with their army life from the time they entered Uncle 
 Sam's service in the summer of 1917 until they departed for training 
 at Camp Sheridan in the fall of the year. It was offered to us as a 
 home for the company by the Grays, and, next to our own individual 
 homes, it comes first in our aflFections. It will be equally loved by 
 the men who joined us at Sheridan and Lee and "Over There," if it 
 is our good fortune to be quartered there again before we all are 
 separated and scattered. 
 
 There is a wide, worn flight of stairs which leads up into the 
 tower and private hall. Many a man mounted them in those days 
 with unwilling feet, to "go up on the carpet" before Skipper Cham- 
 bers and get what was coming to him, — usually a job cleaning the 
 little coop at the head of the basement stairs ! Higher in the tower 
 is the "Brig," where languished that adventurous and cantankerous 
 pair, Howard Frye and Ben Shiftman, who "went" to see their girls 
 without Cap Chambers' permission. 
 
 Downstairs is the main hall with its broad, smooth expanse of 
 wooden floor. Along its right wall were piled hundreds of chairs for 
 
use during lectures and plays. At the rear end was the old col- 
 lapsible stage, with wide doors on 
 either side opening into the alley. 
 At the opposite end were the old 
 gun racks. In one corner stood a 
 fine piano, an instrument which 
 furnished us with plenty of music 
 and amusement during idle hours. 
 It was in this hall that most of our 
 formations were held, and where 
 we struggled through calisthenics 
 and Butt's Manual whenever Lieu- 
 tenant "Ted" Pierce took the no- 
 tion that we needed it. Those 
 were the "palmy days," when we 
 considered it an outrage to be 
 drilled even two or three hours ! 
 We little knew what was in store 
 for us. 
 
 At the rear of the building, 
 above the stage, were the little 
 rooms, where slept Norman MacLean, "Stinkem" Joe Boyd, Matt 
 Manning, Lewis Carey, George Tepper, Chuck Jones, Henry Welker, 
 Frank Carlin, Norman Byram and Steve Byram. These fellows 
 were not so fortunate as the rest of us who had homes to go to 
 every night. However, ask any one of them whether or not they 
 had a good time in this improvised home ! 
 
 Beyond the little brick-paved alley behind the armory lay the 
 old Erie cemetery. Have any of us forgotten the "Graveyard 
 Rat?" Did you ever stand guard at the rear armory door early 
 in the morning and have the "Rat" ask you for a dime for whiskey? 
 Somehow, there was always something of interest going on in the 
 alley. If it wasn't new rookies learning the "school of the soldier" 
 under Lee Carl's tutelage, Bill Williams was exhibiting his skill as 
 a crack shot with the "forty-five" or there was a crap game to 
 watch. Perhaps there was some Border man "bulling" the newest 
 recruit about his hair-raising experiences in Texas. Now and then 
 there was a dog fight, usually between Tige and a strange dog. 
 Tige was our mascot, a huge brindle-bull. 
 
 If you weren't on extra duty or one of the usual details, you 
 didn't have to show up at the armory in the morning until roll call 
 at 9:00 A. M. Most of us managed so as to just make it in time 
 to fall in. A few, particularly the newest recruits, would come in 
 at 7 :00 or 8 :00 o'clock, but not for long, — in a few days they also 
 would begin to sleep late like the rest. Usually the only fellows 
 around that early were Mac, Joe Boyd, Lee Carl and his dog Tige. 
 
TiGE-f 
 
 f\.f<-'?>f»'»W<j 
 
 
 Tige was a rough customer ; only a young dog, but heavily built, 
 and armed with a set of teeth that gave a man the ''Willies" to look 
 at. He had a way of curling back his lips and sticking out his pair 
 of long lower tusks, when teased 
 too much, that was ample warning 
 to any tormentor. His mania was 
 a deep hatred for cats and an in- 
 satiable desire to fight strange dogs. 
 After Tige came to the armory the 
 cats "high-balled" for safer quar- 
 ters. The only dog he ever toler- 
 ated was little "Bullets," a white 
 mongrel pup that followed us in 
 from the streets one day as we came 
 back from drill. At that, poor Bul- 
 lets lived a dog's life, especially 
 when Tige felt inclined to play. 
 
 As usual, those summer morn- 
 ings, a few of the early birds would 
 be sitting on the front steps ; Mac, 
 just out of bed and in his habitual 
 comical humor ; Joe Boyd staring 
 
 up the street with a vacant look, waiting for something to happen; 
 Matt Manning picking his teeth after a breakfast at the "Y ;" a new 
 man or two, (poor misguided birds!) day-dreaming of future glory, 
 and wishing they could get hold of a uniform ; Lee Carl playing with 
 Tige while the morning front door guard watched with amusement, 
 or wondered in bad language where his "relief" was. Along about 
 8:00 o'clock Lieutenant Wedow, Lieutenant Pierce or Lieutenant 
 Sprague would arrive. Some one of the boys would call "attention" 
 and all would rise and salute, — some assortment of salutes in those 
 days ! It was a common occurrence for a rookie, taken by surprise, 
 to raise his hand too late, and then, with a foolish expression on his 
 face, try to "cover up" by scratching his nose. 
 
 From that time on there would be more doing. Some bird 
 would come in with a story of his adventures of the night before, — 
 they were all devils with the women, to hear them talk ! A few 
 others would show up looking "wally-eyed" and in need of sleep. 
 The phone would ring; a call from some fond relative asking the 
 top sergeant if "Jack had stayed there last night — he hadn't been 
 home." Wallie's answer usually was, "No, he wasn't — er, just a 
 minute. Oh, yes, he was on guard !" Wallie always was a good 
 scout. 
 
 At nine o'clock came the roll-call formation, held either inside 
 the armory or on the wide sidewalk out in front. Captain Chambers 
 
would come down from his office in the tower, take the report from 
 
 the first sergeant and cast his eye up 
 and down the company. Each man 
 hoped that look wouldn't stop at him 
 and breathed a subdued sigh of relief 
 when it had passed. If a hat was 
 cocked at an angle or a pocket un- 
 buttoned the unlucky bird sure heard 
 about it ! You couldn't feel safe even 
 in the rear rank when the Skipper 
 was out in front. He would give a 
 few orders to be carried out during 
 the day, and then in charge of Lieu- 
 tenant Pierce or Lieutenant Sprague 
 we would be marched to Payne's 
 Pasture for our two hours of drill. 
 Drill ! We were allowed to fall out 
 to rest and smoke about every ten 
 minutes ! When the allotted time 
 was up we would march back up 
 Euclid Avenue and East Fourteenth 
 Street to the Armory, singing *'The 
 
 Machine Gun Men," "America, Here's My Boy" or "The Jackass 
 
 Battery." 
 
 W^e messed in those days at the Central Y. M. C. A. dining room 
 at 22nd and Prospect Avenue. Each man was allowed seventy-five 
 cents a day for meals and had a mess number which he mentioned 
 to the cashier. His bill was marked up against his number on their 
 records and turned in to Mess Sergeant Byram. li he overran the 
 seventy-five cent limit it was merely charged to him on the pay-roll. 
 Sad to say, a few unwise ones failed to keep their numbers secret. 
 It was easy for another bird to bring a "skirt" to lunch with him at 
 their expense ! 
 
 As we almost invariably had the afternoon to ourselves, and 
 there were a thousand and one places of amusement nearby, the long 
 lazy summer passed quickly. A man in uniform was welcomed and 
 admitted without charge to any of the movies. Our favorite was 
 the Stillman. If so inclined we could find a couple of burlesque 
 shows within five minutes walk. A favorite game was a walk down 
 Ninth to Euclid and thence to the square — girls adore khaki ! In 
 the evenings we could go on an expedition to "The Beach," that 
 popular summer resort on the lake, or take a longer trip to Willough 
 Beach and enjoy an evening of dancing. Then there was Luna 
 Park, or Edgewater, or Gordon ; and never was there any lack of 
 girls ! Yes, the summer passed altogether too quickly. 
 
 At last we received our orders to proceed to Camp Sheridan. 
 
Our scanty equipment was taken to the railroad yards and loaded 
 in box-cars. On the afternoon of September 25th, 1917, with the 
 eyes of our mothers, fathers, sis- 
 ters and sweethearts upon us, we 
 formed in company front on the 
 sidewalk before the armory door. 
 The roll was taken and the report, 
 **Sir, all are present or accounted 
 for," given to Lieutenant Wedow. 
 There were a scant few moments 
 at "rest" and then, "Company — 
 Ten-shun!" (Disturbing lumps 
 rose in our throats.) "Squads 
 right — Column right — March !" 
 and we were off to the old Water 
 street station. 
 
 The streets were decorated 
 with bunting and flags and crowd- 
 ed with people. As we rounded 
 the corner of Lakeside Avenue 
 and East Sixth and swung into 
 line behind the regiment, the Ma- 
 chine Gunners, Cleveland's singing 
 company, broke into song with 
 
 "America, Here's My Boy." We sang those old songs as we had 
 never sung them before — our hearts were in our voices. As we 
 neared the station the mass of people surged around us until w^e 
 could scarcely get through. Some even broke into the ranks, think- 
 ing as the column entered the depot gates it was their last chance to 
 bid their boys farewell. 
 
 However, it proved a long and wearisome wait before we en- 
 trained. We fell out at the depot and gathered with our loved ones 
 in small groups. Most of us were cheerful and happy, and so were 
 the mothers, fathers, sisters and sweethearts, although their's was 
 the hardest part. We soldiers, all young and confident, were im- 
 patient to be off, though fully aware that it might be months or even 
 years before we could return. Not that we were insensible to the 
 sadness of leave-taking, but that we had even in our few months of 
 army life schooled ourselves to be cheerful in the face of any hard- 
 ship. 
 
 At last all was ready and we were marched to the cars. There 
 were a few moments of suspense and tearful farewells from the car 
 windows and then, amid a surging mass of upturned faces, fluttering 
 hands and handkerchiefs, and a babel of voices and cheers, we 
 slowly moved out of the depot and, rounding the curve, disappeared 
 from view. 
 
How you worried for fear of being rejected when you went 
 down to enlist, — and drank water or choked down a big meal, — or 
 learned the eyesight chart until you could have read it standing on 
 your head? 
 
 That "different" feeling 
 once you were irrevocably in 
 their clutches? 
 
 The first time Cap Cham- 
 bers had you on the carpet and 
 you came down looking the 
 worse for wear? 
 
 (And, as a consequence) 
 The first time you policed 
 the little room just at the head 
 of the basement stairs? 
 
 DR»NH»NG- 
 
 M«K€: TH£ 
 
 wy e. » G HT 
 
 What a drag with the 
 women that uniform gave you, 
 and how you felt like an honest 
 to gosh hero? (In spite of the 
 
 fact that those army shoes 
 
 looked like canal boats, and 
 
 there was room enough to pour 
 
 water in the tops of your canvas leggings, and you needed suspenders 
 
 to keep your misfit breeches from falling to half-mast.) 
 
 How your best girl worshiped you, and your mother wept a 
 few tears, but was so proud of you; and your father strutted and 
 told everyone that his son had enlisted, — and your new comrades 
 said, *'Gosh, look at the ears on him!" 
 
 How difficult it was to keep track of all your buttons and keep 
 them buttoned? 
 
 How important you felt the first time you were on guard with 
 the company forty-five on your hip ? 
 
 That the first time you were on guard you kept ''always on 
 the alert," and walked your post "in a military manner"? 
 
 10 
 
That the next time, you sat down and read a newspaper? 
 
 That the first time you saw Grover Schaible you thought he 
 must be an officer, and how you felt when, after meekly taking a 
 bawling out from him, you discov- 
 ered he was a private? 
 
 What a hard guy and "lady- 
 killer" Bill Williams was? What 
 a nut ''Tommie" Thomas was? 
 And what a tough customer Joe 
 Boyd appeared to be ? 
 
 How "big" Captain Cham- 
 bers, Lieutenant Wedow, and 
 Lieutenant Pierce looked to you, 
 and how "small" you felt in com- 
 parison ? 
 
 The back alley the night of 
 the Colored Elks' Convention ? 
 
 Those "long" hikes out to 
 55th street? 
 
 How you dolled up and tried to "get orderly" on Saturday night 
 — and didn't? 
 
 Who usually got it 
 
 How sore you were when you found out that some other bird 
 was eating on your number at the "Y," and that all the sympathy 
 you got when you reported it to Sergeant Byram was the informa- 
 tion that you were a darn fool to let anyone get your number? 
 
 How you felt during the last formation in front of the armory 
 just before we marched to the depot? 
 
 Captain Chambers' Departure 
 
 On or about September 1st, Captain Chambers left for Fort 
 Sill, Oklahoma, to attend Machine Gun School. He called the com- 
 pany together in the private hall of the armory and bade us farewell, 
 asking that we be as loyal to Lieutenant Wedow as we had been to 
 
 11 
 
him. We gave him three rousing cheers and wished him the best 
 of luck. 
 
 The Skipper was a man of iron discipline, but the friend of 
 every man in the company, and although we were glad to see L.ieu- 
 tenant Wedow take the helm, we were unfeignedly sorry to see 
 Captain Chambers go, even though we knew he would come back 
 some day in the future. 
 
 STr7/vO RT 
 V£P? Tff/K^^" To 
 
 ^i — 
 
 Small Shot 
 
 We hope that the Colored Elks hold another convention when 
 we get back. 
 
 The cats came fiddling out of a barn 
 
 With a brother tom-cat under their arms. 
 
 All they could sing was '*fiddle-come-fee," 
 
 '* 'Twas that onery dog Tige, Tom, that finished thee." 
 
 Has anyone forgotten the day when we went down to Central 
 Armory to get our first shot in the arm? We refrain from giving 
 embarrassing details. 
 
 Et Cetera 
 
 Karasek answered the phone one day and a sweet voice purred : 
 *Ts Lieutenant Donaldson there?" 
 
 Oh, Earl ! We're afraid you've been spoofing them ! 
 
 12 
 
Tommy — "How tall are you, Scotty?" 
 
 Gloyd B— "Six-feet-four inches. Why?" 
 
 Tommy — "Gee! I didn't know they piled it that high." 
 
 If you want to worry the matron of the Y. M. C. A. just call 
 her up and tell her that Sergeant Williams, our up-to-date Solomon, 
 is back. 
 
 Slatinsky (to sympathetic Hstener) — "I tink I was quit dis army 
 job and go to work by a factory for two dollar-half a day!" 
 
 One fine summer evening Jack Stimmel borrowed Steve Byram's 
 Saxon runabout, and told him he'd be back in an hour. He left 
 Steve sitting on the rear steps of the Armory entertaining "Little 
 Mary." 
 
 The front door guard says 
 Steve had to take Mary home in a 
 Stanley bus. 
 
 The rear* door guard says 
 Stimmel got in about 2:00 A. M. 
 
 Waldo had previous training. 
 He used to beat the drum in the 
 Salvation Army. 
 
 Privates C o r 1 e 1 1 , Herig, 
 Kope, Stimmel and Harry Cater 
 used to shine their shoes by the 
 hour to get "Orderly." Even 
 Bender and Stanbury had no 
 chance against Corlett, but one 
 night he failed. The other four 
 privates saw an opportunity for 
 some fun; so about 11:00 P. M., 
 when Corlett was doing his bit at 
 the back door, they sneaked into 
 
 the graveyard. Corlett had been unable to procure ammunition for 
 the forty-five and, it being a lonesome spot and his first time on 
 guard, he was considerably fussed up. 
 
 The four privates proceeded to the scene of the tragedy with 
 a "thirty-two" in Stimmel's possession. Everything was pre- 
 arranged. They all knew their roles. 
 
 Herig and Kope had the argument. 
 
 Stimmel fired the shot. 
 
 Cater did the groaning. 
 
 Corlett threw a fit and beat it back through the armory to the 
 
 13 
 
corporal of the guard, who was asleep. The corporal got sore and 
 said "damn," and other things. He refused to give him ammunition 
 and made him go back to his post. 
 
 The four privates laughed. 
 
 Next day the company laughed. 
 
 But Corlett never "got wise," and won't until he reads this. 
 
 Z^. ' y 
 
 wmimr^''^0 
 
 Darkness had already enshrouded the city when we started on 
 our journey to the South, and our last impression of the good old 
 town was a mixture of glaring arc lamps, illuminated feigns, red and 
 green rail-lights, the dusky shapes of box-cars on sidings and the 
 dark hulks of factories, elevators and huge oil-tanks along the 
 tracks. With gathering speed we switched onto the main road and 
 passed a cheering mob at the Newburgh station. Then the buildings 
 and homes became fewer in number, we wdiizzed by a few freight 
 trains on sidings, and were in the open country. 
 
 We soon tired of gazing out of the windows, and as the lights 
 in the car came on, card games began, books and magazines were 
 produced, mandolins and "ukes" brought forth, and conversation 
 concerning past, present and future started ; the whole producing a 
 babel indescribable, which was augmented when a hot crap game 
 in the smoker of our Pullman began to get hotter. 
 
 Along about 4:00 A. M. the porter came through and made up 
 the berths. Weary with the strain of maintaining cheerful counte- 
 nances during the parting from home and loved ones, our heads 
 whirling with thoughts of them and perhaps a few vain regrets and 
 conjectures on the future, we one by one fell asleep. 
 
 We had thought morning would find us well into Kentucky, 
 but troop-trains are slow, as we soon found out, for it was just 
 dawn when we pulled into the Union station at Columbus, Ohio. 
 The train stopped there long enough for many of us to run up the 
 stairs to the station and buy a few post-cards, magazines and candy. 
 There were a few moments of conversation with waiting travelers 
 who clustered at the car windows to wish us luck and a pleasant 
 journey, and we were off. 
 
 Before nightfall we had wormed our way through the Cincin- 
 nati yards and crossed the Ohio river. The train halted on a siding 
 
 14 
 
for some time on the Kentucky side, so we had plenty of time to bid 
 our home state silent farewell, and put our last "eyeful" of her in 
 our little store of memories. When at last the wild Kentucky hills 
 shut off our view as we moved slowly south out of Covington, we 
 resolutely turned from thoughts of home to enjoy the ever-changing 
 view of the new country. 
 
 From then on our journey was crowded with interesting scenery 
 and at every station and town the troop train resembled a *'mad- 
 house." From every window hung three or four men, shouting or 
 singing, or emitting shrill whistles and ''cat-calls" to the vast enter- 
 tainment of the civilians, who gave us a hearty welcome every- 
 where. It would be futile to attempt to record the mass of interest- 
 ing occurrences in detail. Each man will have no difficulty in 
 remembering his own share. 
 
 At last, on the morning of the twenty-ninth, the fourth day, 
 we reached Montgomery, Alabama, and, a few miles further on the 
 train stopped in the open country. We gazed eagerly out of the 
 windows, but no very pleasant prospect greeted us. It was raining 
 steadily and the air was chilly, — nothing could be seen but a vast 
 expanse of brown, grassy pasture land, fields of dead cotton plants, 
 and a reddish-yellow, muddy road that disappeared over a nearby 
 crest. 
 
 We detrained in the driving rain, many of us without even a 
 poncho to keep us dry. There seemed to be more than the usual 
 delay in forming up, and of course we were at the tail of the column ! 
 Meanwhile we huddled in shivering, dispirited little groups, being 
 ordered to fall out and rest until the regiment passed. Was this 
 the South ? If so, where was that perpetual sunshine ? 
 
 Falling in behind the regiment we started up the muddy road. 
 For a long time no one spoke a word. We were thoroughly dis- 
 gusted. Suddenly, as we were passing General Zimerman's head- 
 quarters, the quartet began to sing "Ohio," At first there was little 
 support, but gradually the refrain took hold and increased in volume 
 until every man was singing at the top of his voice. We kept it up 
 with other songs and entered Camp Sheridan singing. Those of the 
 "old bunch" who are still with us know that we left it singing. 
 
 Finally we came to our portion of the camp and one by one 
 the companies entered their respective streets. As we turned in at 
 
 15 
 
the new mess hall marked *'M. G." we gave a rousing cheer. We 
 were assigned to tents and or- 
 dered to get busy at once and 
 prepare for the night. 
 
 The tents had been put up 
 hastily by "C" company, which 
 had come down a month ahead 
 of the regiment to prepare the 
 camp. Our streets, like all the 
 others, was a slough of mud and 
 little pools of water, there being 
 no drainage whatsoever. 
 
 We dug temporary ditches, 
 reinforced the pegs of our tents, 
 drained the interiors as well as 
 possible, and laid a few boards 
 
 over the mud to provide bridges to our cots. That night, tired be- 
 yond description, we went to bed early after eating a cold supper. 
 The wind rose steadily, and by midnight a seventy-two mile an hour 
 gale from the gulf was hitting us with full force. Tents all over the 
 camp were blown down by the dozen, and their occupants forced to 
 take shelter in the mess-halls. 
 
 It rained without ceasing for three days, and we were unspeak- 
 ably miserable, but finally at about noon Sunday the skies cleared 
 and the sun shone with intense heat. Under the influence of its rays 
 our spirits rose and we set about the business of making a good 
 camp of the one-time cotton field. 
 
 CVMHIKCS - ST(J/y5Bef?y-ft)NfllLD50(V-CHf!PMflW 
 -TM FIT FHMC^US 
 
 HnCHlN6 GUIV FOUR 
 
 16 
 
Troop Train Trimmings 
 
 Does the girl who got your address from the paper plate you 
 threw out of the train window still write to you, or did she quit when 
 you sent your picture? 
 
 Remember the first time we were gassed? Why didn't some- 
 body tell us we were coming to a tunnel ? 
 
 Did you look out at Lookout Mountain? If you didn't, that's 
 your lookout ; but we'll bet there were darned few dames you didn't 
 look out at. 
 
 Harry Seaman entertained the ofiicers with a dance of the seven 
 veils — only he had to use a towel. Wonder if 'twas a barber towel? 
 No : it must have been a Turkish towel ! ! 
 
 Old Sarge Byram was a merry old soul on the trip to Sheridan. 
 So were the cooks and K. P.'s. The dill-pickles weren't the only 
 pickles in the kitchen car. 
 
 Show us the man ''with soul so dead" who didn't try to play 
 Prince Charming with some skirt at some little wayside station ! 
 
 What became of all the Three Star Hennessy? 
 Ask Dad, — He knows ! 
 
 Or Ben, — or Stinkem, — or Denny, — or Brute, — or, well, to tell 
 the truth, Dad isn't the only one who knows — not by a long shot ! 
 
 Camp Sheridan 
 
 The first two weeks at Camp Sheridan were a nightmare of 
 work. We began on the tents, making level floors of packed dirt, 
 deep drainage ditches, and replacing the inadequate pegging with 
 stouter pegs and ropes. Then came the street. Under the direction 
 of Sergeant Warren Smith we labored for a week ; tearing out by 
 root the weeds and cotton plants, turning under the rank growth of 
 long grass, crowning the center, raking and grading the sides, cut- 
 ting curbs and gutters, and bridging the big regimental drainage 
 ditch with heavy planks. Before we were through we swore we w^ere 
 destined to be day laborers for Uncle Sam, not soldiers. We learned 
 afterward that a soldier must be jack-of -all-trades, as well as a fight- 
 ing man. 
 
 Following this first fortnight of unceasing labor came the first 
 week of our training schedule, which was to be of sixteen weeks 
 
 17 
 
duration. Still aching from the back-breaking work we were put to 
 the "school of the soldier," "school of the squad," signaling with 
 flags, practice in carrying verbal messages, and squads "east and 
 west." The weeks went by slowly and our training was plentifully 
 interspersed with such odd jobs as spreading gravel on the street, 
 kitchen and mess-hall, building up the tents with wooden side-walls 
 and frames, and special "details" to the supply company for clothing 
 or rations. The drill-fields had to be weeded and leveled, ditches 
 and trenches dug and filled up again for no apparent reason, and 
 the regular routine of duties performed. But it is not the purpose of 
 this narrative to dwell upon such matters as these. We remember 
 them all too clearly! Suffice to say that before Thanksgiving Day 
 had passed we had become used to drilling day in and day out and 
 had adapted ourselves physically and mentally to the business of 
 soldiering. 
 
 Distance lends enchantment, and regretfully we admit that we 
 did not fully appreciate this good old Southern city until after we 
 had left it. During the nine months we were at Camp Sheridan, 
 Montgomery, four miles away, was naturally the Mecca to which 
 all of us flocked for pastime and amusement. Indeed, we went there 
 in such numbers that on Saturdays and Sundays the place looked 
 more like a soldier city than the capital of a state. 
 
 It is principally a city of homes, but has also a flourishing busi- 
 ness district and a large cotton and fruit market. The large shops, 
 theaters and hotels are conveniently and centrally located, and there 
 
 are ice cream parlors, billiard par- 
 lors, barber shops and stationery 
 stores in plenty. One could find 
 almost anything he desired to buy 
 at some store within five minutes 
 walk of the square. The two best 
 hotels, the Gay-Teague and Ex- 
 change, are particularly dear to 
 our memories, for they were as 
 the hub of a wheel, — our congre- 
 gating and meeting places. We 
 also remember with interest the Capitol and its old relics of the Civil 
 war, the old soldiers in charge, the brass plate set in the stone step 
 
 18 
 
on the spot where Jefferson Davis was inaugurated, and the beautiful 
 well-kept grounds surrounding the building. 
 
 To the people of Montgomery, who welcomed us to their homes 
 and introduced us to their social life, thus making our monotonous 
 training period immeasurably more pleasant, we wish to express our 
 
 heartfelt gratitude and affection. 
 
 Remember the taxi drivers' siren cry? "Going to town!" And 
 if you fell for it and went, what a helluva time you usually had get- 
 ting another to bring you back? 
 
 No wonder we developed into such ferocious soldiers ! It riles 
 a man's disposition to pay two-bits to get to town and then either 
 pay four-bits or walk back ! 
 
 There ought to be a special place in Hell for the Kaiser, the 
 Clown Prince, — and those taxi drivers ! 
 
 Jack Stirm had the rookies in his tent thinking they were in the 
 clutches of a fresh air fiend. The nights at Sheridan were invariably 
 cold and heavy with dew, but Jack insisted upon rolling up his corner 
 of the tent, and he being the cor- 
 poral, we could only protest vain- 
 ly and shiver. Later, we learned 
 that Jack was right. He learned 
 his lesson on the Mexican border. 
 When the "fresh-air orders" of 
 the division came out, old Squad 
 Two was untroubled. Wt were 
 already veteran "fiends." 
 
 Gosh ! How we used to cuss 
 the tonsorial artists back of the 
 canteen, — and now we have 
 Greenleaf ! 
 
 W/JIk \ 
 
 We have never yet found 
 out who got "the gravy" from 
 the regimental canteen. 
 
 PflJOMRS 
 
 Nor why it was that when we answered sick call with a sore 
 ankle they invariably gave us C. C.'s. 
 
 If the Kaiser had ever stood Reveille every morning for even 
 a month there'd have been no war. 
 
 19 
 
By the way, did you ever stand Reveille early on those dark 
 mornings with only your nightie on underneath your overcoat? 
 
 Which reminds us that many a night we went to bed in heavy 
 marching order and put on our pajamas for camouflage. 
 
 Saturday afternoon, hot and stufify within, but heaven compared 
 with the heat of the sun outside the tent. Brute Zellner dolling up 
 to go to town, — familiar footstep. Rear elevation of Brute, hat 
 
 and necktie in hand, scrambling over the 
 
 flW ! 5>0Me) ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^"^^ ''-^" Company 
 
 ^OLD^tR I street. One second later, — Sergeant 
 
 Chapman sticks his head in at the door. 
 ''Two men for gravel detail !" 
 Moral : — Live and learn. 
 
 Remember that the first men to get 
 furloughs were Tepper and Rufif, and 
 how that started us thinking? Shame on 
 you, boys, for disturbing the peace. 
 Even the officers got the bug. 
 
 One painful memory is that of the 
 band, practicing in skirmish line in Head- 
 quarters tents. Here a boom, — there a 
 squeak, — here and there a squawk! 
 squawk ! 
 
 Just when we wanted to write a nice 
 letter to our girl, too. 
 
 
 20 
 
Things We Hated 
 
 The band. 
 
 Reveille. 
 
 Policing the street. 
 
 Kitchen police. 
 
 Latrine police. 
 
 ''Gimme a cigarette" (twenty times a day from the same dude), 
 
 Compulsory formations for church on Sunday. 
 
 Squads right and left. 
 
 Gas mask drill. 
 
 Wood detail. 
 
 Delinquency sheets. 
 
 Washing clothes. 
 
 **No mail for you." 
 
 Saturday inspections. 
 
 One gallon of dish-water for 140 men. 
 
 School in the mess-hall every night. 
 
 W-O-R-K- ! 
 
 Things We Liked 
 
 Letters from home. 
 
 Retreat without a parade. 
 
 Pay day. 
 
 Mess — sometimes. 
 
 A box of cookies, cake or fudge from our girl. 
 
 To get out of a detail by hook or crook — preferably by crook. 
 
 Furloughs. 
 
 Baths — most of us. 
 
 Montgomery girls — (not the dark kind). 
 
 Candy ! 
 
 Division Review 
 
 December 24th, 1917 
 
 At this, our first important review, Governor Cox of Ohio was 
 the guest of honor. After the collapse of the Christmas furlough 
 plan, which caused such great disappointment both at home and 
 among the soldiers, he had declared his intention of visiting Ohio's 
 volunteers in person, and proposed the famous "Christmas Special" 
 scheme to the people of Ohio. They responded enthusiastically as 
 we well know, and he came to us with a special trainload of Christ- 
 mas packages. 
 
 We marched from our camp by way of the old race-track road 
 to the site of the camp of the Military Police, where we halted until 
 
 21 
 
we could enter our position in the parade. Then, led by the band, 
 we turned in at the division parade ground and the regiment passed 
 the reviewing stand by companies in company front. It was a bright 
 sunny day, and the people had turned out in large numbers to see 
 us; most of them from Montgomery, but also a great many Ohioans, 
 — relatives, friends and sweethearts. They were not only over- 
 flowing onto the parade ground, but were massed all along the line 
 of march, which led through the artillery camp and back up the 
 main road along the new street car line. 
 
 At the entrance to our camp Colonel Stanbury reviewed the 
 regiment as we passed in column of squads. Then, to our great 
 relief, we reached our company street and were dismissed for the 
 afternoon. 
 
 Christmas Eve 
 
 To celebrate this great occasion in the best possible manner, 
 most of us went to town. Montgomery, slow and sedate though it 
 seemed to us then, was crowedd with soldiers and their relatives 
 and an unusual number of citizens of the town itself (both black 
 and white). The city was ablaze with lights, hotels and shops were 
 overflowing, ice cream parlors swamped with business, and the 
 movies turning away more people than were already inside. Taxi 
 after taxi and car after car unloaded scores of soldiers in the square 
 and hundreds more streamed in on foot, compelled to walk for lack 
 of transportation. It was a gay night. 
 
 A few remained at camp, preferring to spend the evening 
 quietly in the tents or at the various Y. M. C. A. huts, where enter- 
 tainment of all sorts was provided. The camp theater drew more 
 than even its usual great crowd. No matter wliere we went we all 
 had our full share of Christmas cheer. But need it be said that in 
 the hearts of most of us, when we crawled into our bunks. that night 
 was a vague longing and a dull ache, — an uncomfortable homesick- 
 ness? 
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 With its usual perversity the weather changed over night, and 
 we awoke Christmas morning to the dismal prospect of a rainy, 
 chilly day; nor did it change to the better for a single moment, — 
 nothing but leaden sky, drizzling rain, dripping tents and muddy 
 streets were our portion. But even though the weather went back 
 on us, we enjoyed ourselves. The boxes from home that came on 
 Governor Cox's train were delivered in the morning, and the Red 
 Cross also played Santa Clans with a bursting package for each man. 
 
 Most of us had letters in large numbers from home and friends, 
 
 22 
 
and for days afterward letters and delayed packages kept streaming 
 in. There were special entertainments at the ''Y" huts and theater. 
 Sergeant Byram and the cooks came across with a big feed. As for 
 candy, — we were overloaded with it, and having eaten until we were 
 deliciously stuffed and on the verge of illness, we still had sufficient 
 to last us a week. 
 
 With our new philosophy of **pack all your troubles in your old 
 kit bag and smile," that our short experience as soldiers had incul- 
 cated in us, we speedily forgot our little touch of "blues," caused 
 by the disappointment of the Christmas furlough fiasco, and retired 
 at *'taps," with our stomachs and hearts content and overflowing 
 with Christmas cheer. 
 
 New Year's Day— 1918 
 
 While not such an occasion for merry-making as Christmas, 
 the New Year was ushered in with unusual noise and commotion. 
 Not a few taxis left camp with a string of cans rattling behind. 
 Most everyone who had been to town came back loaded with fire- 
 crackers and torpedoes, creating continuous pandemonium until 
 after midnight, regardless of consequences, and caring not a whit 
 for the "cussings" they received from the peaceful ones who were 
 in their bunks. 
 
 Of course, there were the usual good resolutions, quickly made 
 and soon forgotten, and a good deal of half-serious conjecturing as 
 to the future. What a light-hearted beginning it was for a year 
 that proved so heavily laden with events that shook the very founda- 
 tions of the world and moulded our own lives anew ! 
 
 Christmas Cracks 
 
 What happened to the furlough money we begged from home 
 after the Christmas furlough deal? 
 
 Governor Cox was a regular Santa. He didn't have whiskers, 
 or a red nose, or a red coat with white fur trimmings, or reindeers 
 and a sleigh, but he had a trainload of gifts and a message of good 
 cheer ; yes, — and the proverbial Santa Claus ''bay window," too ! 
 
 No wonder we need chaplains in the army. 
 
 Who could act like a Christian on Christmas Eve when he had 
 to walk half-way to town to get a taxi, or take the other alternative 
 of hanging on to a street car by some comrade's coat tails, — and 
 then pay fifty cents to some highway rol)bcr to bring him back to 
 
 camp ? 
 
 23 
 
Say, Humpy Turner, — remember when somebody threw a fire- 
 cracker into the tent New Year's Eve, and it Ht so close to the nether 
 portions of Tige that he thought it was a rearguard attack meant 
 for him, and nearly tore Scott's bunk to pieces? Also that you 
 threw a shoe at him and broke our only electric light bulb? 
 
 Wonder why the boys' mothers all got sick just before Christ- 
 mas ? 
 
 Did you keep on praying for 'The Army and Navy Forever" 
 when they told you there would be no Christmas furloughs? 
 
 It seems as though Old Jupe Pluvius has always had it in for 
 us. Durned if we ever knew it to fail to rain on a holiday ! 
 
 A good many dudes resolved to get married pretty sudden 
 around Christmas and New Year's. 
 
 Guess the sick-mother gag was overworked! 
 
 The Hike to the Artillery Range 
 
 March ISth, 1918. 
 
 Everyone of us has his own pet recollections of that first trip 
 to the trenches at the artillery range. The regiment left camp early 
 in the afternoon and, after a hike of an hour and a half, arrived at 
 the "positions." All except the first relief pitched pup tents in the 
 ''back area." It had rained hard, and the trench system was one 
 mass of mud. 
 
 In order to simulate actual conditions we did not occupy the 
 positions until after nightfall. All of us wore gas masks and helmets. 
 We waded and slipped and struggled up trenches in mud that was 
 two and a half feet deep in many places. Conditions were worse 
 than we ever experienced before or after ; even in France. 
 
 Each relief remained in the trenches four hours, and not being 
 inured to the wet mud and penetrating cold night air, we were half- 
 froze and unutterably wretched before the 146th Infantry arrived, 
 two hours late. Then, when we prepared to evacuate the area and 
 begin the march back to camp, there resulted endless confusion of 
 men, wagons, mules, machine-gun carts and scattered equipment. 
 In our company the shelter-halfs and campaign hats, which we had 
 left behind at the entry to the positions, were hopelessly mixed and 
 we had to snatch them up indiscriminately. 
 
 It was four o'clock in the morning when we arrived, cold, dirty 
 and hungry. After the mules and carts had been put away we were 
 
 24 
 
given a fine breakfast of bread and jam, coffee and slum, and then 
 excused until noon. 
 
 Jimmy Wilson and Jack Stirm were wiser than the rest. No 
 premature trench life for them ; they concluded to postpone it until 
 they reached France, and camouflaged themselves in a dark pup- 
 tent and snoozed until we returned. 
 
 It was not for lack of government mules that many a man 
 pulled a cart that night ! It was for lack of government harness ! 
 
 All the nice new hats and shelter-halfs changed hands in the 
 mixup of equipment. Talk about cattle-rustlers and changing 
 brands! It would have taken a cattle-country sheriff and posse to 
 round up and identify those hats and shelter-halfs. 
 
 No one got extra duty for snoozing in school that afternoon. 
 That's about the only time we enjoyed school in the mess-hall. 
 
 First Trip to the Machine Gun Range 
 
 March 20th, 1918 
 
 We left camp at 7 :30 A. M. and hiked out the road over Peanut 
 Hill, across old cotton fields and winding lanes, to a deep cut or 
 gulch on the street car line. Here was located the old Alabama Rifle 
 Range, which had been hurriedly adapted for use as a machine gun 
 range. The targets were set at the base of a steep, bare hillside 
 about fifty feet in height. Extending from the butts for oyer a 
 thousand yards was a long, green vista of cleared land ; a uniform 
 strip bordered by the tall pine forest on either side. The range had 
 been used in the days gone by for lang-range rifle practice. We 
 did our firing, however, at close range (1000 inches), and on special 
 targets ; the main object being to teach us control of the gun in trav- 
 ersing and searching fire. We all enjoyed the novelty of our first 
 experience with the guns and considered it a very interesting day; 
 doubly so because we had the opportunity of observing a test of 
 the new Browning automatic rifle by a group of Ordnance Depart- 
 ment officers. 
 
 O. D. Larky was afraid of the gun and didn't want to fire it. 
 
 "Nope! Nope! I alius wuz leery of guns. Never had one in 
 my life." 
 
 "Come on. Larky," coaxed D. P., smiling. 
 
 "Uh-uh!" demurred Larky. "I couldn't stand it. Lieutenant. 
 I'm too nervous. Couldn't you lemme lead a mule or sumpin'?" 
 
 25 
 
''Mules are more dangerous than that gun, Larky. Get up there 
 and be quick about it!" 
 
 Very gingerly O. D. sat down to the gun, hesitated a moment, 
 and then, closing his eyes, blazed away, apparently about to collapse 
 from fright. Later one of the sergeants asked him how he liked 
 it. Larky scratched his head, — 
 
 "Well, I guess Lm a bigger dam fool than Steve M'Glone! He 
 was just a dam fool enough to get out of the army, but I laid it on so 
 thick that D. P. got wise to me !" 
 
 Remember how good that lemonade and the jelly sandwiches 
 tasted? 
 
 Hike to the Montgomery Hunt Club 
 
 April 3rd, 1918 
 
 This hike was our first gruelling experience at cross-country 
 marching. While it is very true that we were in no danger, that does 
 not alter the fact that it required as much ''guts" to stick it out on 
 that hike as we ever had to have to face an artillery barrage. The 
 brand of "guts" was different, perhaps, but the will to hang on 
 against all odds, to "stick in spite of Hell," is the foundation of 
 courage, and the wells of our courage w^ere sorely tried that day. 
 
 It was intensely hot and the- roads were deep with powdery 
 dust. Leaving camp at 7:00 A. M., we hiked steadily until 11:00 
 o'clock, marching fifty minutes and resting ten minutes of each 
 hour. Our route was circuitous, leading up over Peanut Hill and 
 through divers lanes and by-roads to the outskirts of Montgomery, 
 there doubling back past the Remount Station and the Base Hos- 
 pital and on out the Upper Wetumpka Road. Then we began to 
 feel the first signs of fatigue. No smoking was permitted even at 
 the halts, so most of us had to forego that solace. We were for- 
 bidden to drink from our canteens, as only one canteen of water 
 was to be consumed during the day, and the parching dust lodged 
 in our nostrils and throats, producing an almost unbearable irrita- 
 tion. Our shoulders, unused to the new packs, began to ache, more 
 from the cramped position than the weight. Our feet began to 
 blister under the unaccustomed strain. We were unfeignedly glad 
 w^hen at 1 1 :00 o'clock we debouched into a ploughed field for mess 
 and a couple of hours of rest. 
 
 After some minutes of standing around we were permitted to 
 fall out, and unslinging the stalling packs, we sought resting places 
 in the dry, hard furrows. Perniission was given to eat and drink 
 and we fell to with a will. 
 
 In a sort of blind stagger we mechanically dragged through 
 the hour of meaningless "maneuvers" on the nearby hunt-club 
 
 26 
 
grounds. We had no interest in battles with imaginary enemies 
 that day. At about 2 :30 P. M. we slung our packs and formed up 
 for the weary march back to camp, already exhausted by the efforts 
 of the morning and doubting our ability to continue for long. 
 
 It was a heart-breaking job. The rays of the descending sun, 
 seeming doubly hot and scorching, were directly in our eyes or 
 reflected by the white road. A slight breeze stirring merely blew 
 the dust up into our faces ; the air we inhaled was laden with it, and 
 there was no relief, for most of us had unwisely drunk all our water 
 at noon. Perhaps it was only *'play" in a camp far from the battle 
 fronts, but nevertheless our sufferings were real and well nigh 
 unbearable. Men from the line companies fell out along the road- 
 side like flies, their number increasing with each mile. Our mules 
 were exhausted and their leaders virtually had to drag them by 
 main force. 
 
 Only one man fell out of ranks in the Machine Gun Company, 
 thus marring an otherwise perfect record. He fell out only two 
 hundred yards from the company street to get a drink of water. 
 Small things are great indicators. We refrain from mentioning his 
 name, but are satisfied that he is no longer a member of the com- 
 pany. Aside from that, we demonstrated conclusively that we were 
 a company with ''guts." 
 
 Were you one of the wise ones who refrained from drinking 
 all their water, and were pestered by the thirsty, but improvident, 
 all the way back to camp ? 
 
 Remember the grand rush for the hydrants at the bath-house 
 when we were dismissed? The word ''water" had a new meaning 
 to us. 
 
 Lt. Tilden — "Now, we are in a precarious position. The enemy 
 is on our front and flanks and is preparing to counter-attack. It is 
 up to us to protect the flanks and it will be very difficult, as they are 
 massing in great numbers. We must hold them at all costs !" 
 
 Mac (grumbling) — "Costs be damned! Charge 'em on the pay- 
 roll like they do everything else. I'm goin' to sleep." 
 
 Third Liberty Loan Parade 
 
 April 6th, 1918 
 
 On the sixth of April we ushered in the Third Liberty Loan, 
 and celebrated the anniversary of the entrance of America into the 
 war with a Divisional Parade in Montgomery. It was an auspicious 
 day for parading, from the standpoint of the spectators, who massed 
 
 27 
 
to view us all along our route through town. The southern sun 
 shone from a clear blue sky and a very slight breeze was blowing, — 
 enough to cool those watching from the automobiles and windows 
 and balconies of office buildings and hotels, and even the compact 
 crowds on the sidewalks and street corners, but affording no relief 
 to the khaki-clad stream that flowed steadily over the hot cobble- 
 stones. 
 
 Montgomery was swathed in loan-posters, flags and bunting. 
 In the reviewing stand were Major General Treat, the Governor of 
 Alabama, a number of French officers, and many other noted men. 
 Even under the stress of the heat and the fatigue of our long hike 
 into town, which had been augmented by frequent double timing to 
 keep closed up, we passed the stand in good order and at good 
 ''attention." 
 
 Following the parade there was a flag-raising at the State Cap- 
 itol, accompanied by music from a special military band. It was 
 made the occasion for several Liberty Loan speeches. In this, how- 
 ever, we did not take part, but thankfully trudged back to camp, 
 content to call it ''a dav." 
 
 'Tarades was made for generals and such guys," says O. D. 
 Larky. ''They want to show their wives that they kin boss some- 
 body around, too." 
 
 Yes, we suppose it really was an inspiring sight to see rank 
 after rank of riflemen in platoon front mounting Dexter avenue hill 
 toward the Capitol. The dark mass of the crowds along the side- 
 walks under the blossoming trees, and the serried, broad ribbon of 
 olive-drab undoubtedly must have made a pretty contrast. But, — 
 it's far from inspiring to be in those ranks, marching at attention ! 
 
 One of the boys heard a sweet young thing (we suppose she 
 was) remark as our company passed the reviewing stand: "I won- 
 der why they keep looking at the men in front of them ?" 
 
 Now ain't that just like a woman? We would have liked to 
 look at her, but Cap Chambers was looking at us ! 
 
 Which reminds us that one bird did look around. (We don't 
 blame him, for he said she had on a "Hi-lo" gown and black silk 
 openwork stockings) — and next morning he carried the G. I. cans. 
 
 Larky had a day of unusual surprises one Saturday in Febru- 
 ary. He got up late for reveille and wasn't bawled out or given 
 extra duty! Nobody "picked on him" while he was eating break- 
 fast. He discovered he was on stable detail and didn't have to drill ; 
 
 28 
 
went to work willingly, got too near Number 18 mule, — and "came 
 to" in the infirmary ! 
 
 Rumor, February 20th — "C" Company is under orders to be 
 ready to move within three weeks. (Note. — Must have come from 
 the thirteenth hole.) 
 
 Rumor, February 21st — According to an ''orderly in the 8th' 
 we move within a month. 
 
 One night the quartet sang "The Sailor's Life is the Life for 
 Me" so realistically that the top-kick got sea-sick. And the next 
 day Morrie Cummings had the hard luck to sing through the kitchen 
 screen door and strain his voice ! 
 
 (Aw, give us a new one !) 
 
 We now realize that army life in Cleveland was the juice of 
 the orange and camp life the rind. 
 
 Skippers apparently like truthful men, but they make non- 
 coms of the cheerful liars. 
 
 Fowler was having a horrible dream. He turned on hi? cot — 
 the night was real hot. In his dream on a saw-log he floated down- 
 stream. He strove to roll off the drifting beam, for it floated head 
 on for a rasping big saw. The noise in his ears agonized him with 
 fears, and he breathed a farewell to his Maw and his Paw. As the 
 buzzing thing reached him he woke in great fright. (Now, friend 
 Murrel Fowler is quite a loud howler). But the buzzing ran on 
 through the soft, stilly night. And he saw it came forth from the 
 nose of C. White ! —VAN. 
 
 Does anyone remember what happened to Seaman when he 
 was suddenly taken with Kidney Trouble ? The guards had to work 
 overtime, but he was cured within a week. 
 
 Clank Williams, our company lady-killer, admits having lost 
 out with one skirt. "Then when she had me all ribbed up and done 
 to a turn," said Clank to Wallie, "she says, T love Mr. O'Toole and 
 Mr. O'Toole loves me. Goodbye, Bill, take care of yourself.' I 
 couldn't have gotten a better jolt on the B. & O." 
 
 Vic — "Where's the hammer, Dainus?" 
 
 Frank — "I don't know where is hammer. Hammer was here a 
 
 mniute ago. 
 
 29 
 
Remember the time poor old Donaldson and Franklin McClain 
 were "busted" for buying bananas? 
 
 We wonder if Sam Salzman will ever be normal or if Roney 
 will have to hit him again with a pick. 
 
 The delinquency sheet : 
 
 vSeaman 
 Shiffman 
 Boyd 
 Seaman 
 (Encore — ad infinitum.) 
 
 On ao^ain, off aijain, g-one ae^ain — Vic Norris' mustache ! 
 
 Wonder if Sergeant Hull still has his famous nightie and cap, — 
 and how Lieutenant Sprague would have looked in them? 
 
 Only a word is necessary to bring to mind that second trip to 
 the artillery trenches, when we were in them from 4 P. M., April 
 11th, to 7 P. M., April 12th— HELL. 
 
 And then on Saturday, April 13th, we had a field inspection 
 
 over on the race track. Sherman was right ! 
 
 And then on Sunday, April 14th, instead of resting, we had to 
 put up blanket racks. God help the Kaiser ! ! 
 
 The Five Day Hike 
 
 April \7th to April 2lst 
 
 While this extended hike was a great endurance test, it was not 
 nearly so hard on us as the one-day Hunt Club hike. We were more 
 accustomed to the packs and our feet toughened to a greater extent. 
 Furthermore, we did not cover nearly so many miles per day. The 
 entire 73rd Brigade participated. 
 
 Leaving camp by way of the Base Hospital, we turned to the 
 right a short distance beyond and then to the left at the cross-roads 
 in the woods, swinging onto the road to the Hunt Club. It was 
 delightful weather for hiking, cool and cloudy, and we made our 
 allotted seven miles with ease, pitching pup-tent camp at noon in a 
 field near the Hunt Club. The afternoon was spent in ditching the 
 tents, gathering brush for beds and putting up the kitchen. After 
 mess we retired. It was a novelty for most of us, this sleeping in 
 pup-tents, and as though the gods were intent upon giving us a full 
 experience, it rained heavily during the night, with the inevitable 
 
 30 
 
result that a number of the men got wet because they had failed to 
 ])cg and ditch their tents properly. 
 
 The second day was much more difficult. Our unusual beds and 
 the fury of the storm had robbed us of our customary amount of 
 sleep, the roads were muddy, making marching difficult, and our 
 water-soaked clothing and packs gave added trouble. After 
 struggling ten miles under these conditions we were glad indeed 
 when we reached Taylor Aviation Field, even though we had to 
 make camp in oozy, sticky mud that clung to our clothing and shoes, 
 and encumbered our shovels when it came to digging drainage 
 trenches. We spent a miserable night. 
 
 We rested the entire next day on the spot. A Y. M. C. A. 
 tent was set up, and furnished paper and envelopes for those who 
 desired to write, music from a small graphophone, and tobacco, 
 apples and cigarettes. Many men gained entrance to the aviation 
 field and raided the camp canteen for pop and candy, or amused 
 themselves watching the work and tests going on in the hangars. 
 
 The following day, Saturday, we broke camp early and hiked 
 about ten miles further, doubling back towards Montgomery over a 
 different road. It was a trying, but more cheerful hike, for the sun 
 was shining brightly, drying the roads. Our camp that night was in 
 a broad, gently rolling pasture of clover, that had been nibbled close 
 by the cattle. It looked inviting and proved the opposite ; hard, damp 
 and uncomfortable. To make matters worse, it rained and was very 
 cold ^hat night, with the result that very few of us slept. 
 
 Early Saturday morning we ate breakfast in the half-light of a 
 cold, wet, gray dawn, policed the camp, and moved out on the last 
 lap back to camp. It was a dirty, tired and utterly disillusioned 
 gang that plodded through the outskirts of the city and on out the 
 hilly road to Sheridan. This was our first test of the real business 
 of soldiering. But what a difference music makes ! At the top of 
 Peanut Hill we were met by the band. At the first strains of "Over 
 There" our troubles were forgotten ; our return became a triumphal 
 march. 
 
 The wood-detail brought back more candy than wood from 
 the aviation camp. 
 
 The long-boys in those pup-tents had a lot of trouble keeping 
 their ^'tootsies" dry. If the good Lord hadn't turned up so much 
 for feet on most of them they'd have been wet to the knees. 
 
 Vic Norris, in charge of the picket line detail, was nearly dis- 
 tracted. Just when his boys would get things cleaned up nicely the 
 mules would be driven from the watering place and tied up again. 
 
 31 
 
In our company no pup-tent partnership was complete without 
 an argument over which one should bum a shovel from some infantry 
 man. 
 
 Heard often in the wee hours of the morning: "Dammit! 
 
 cwinin' thp hlanVpf c I" 
 
 Quit swipin' the blankets! 
 
 A pup tent's a rather small place to entertain ladies in. 
 
 Necessity is the mother of invention. Sylvia had a helluva 
 time for awhile, but finally got to sleep in the form of a letter *'S" ; 
 but even that idea didn't keep Scott's feet dry, so he got a packing 
 case from the kitchen and stuck them in that. 
 
 Tommy (sticking his head out of the pup-tent) — ''Gosh! I 
 might as well have enlisted in the navy !'* 
 
 Remember how much more we appreciated that delivery of 
 mail on the hike than any we'd had at camp ? 
 
 Sometimes it's not so soft to be a cook ; especially on a hike like 
 that, when all you've got is a dinky little field-range. 
 
 Pretty soft for those birds who returned from their furloughs 
 the day after we left camp. They didn't even have hot water ready 
 in the bath-house when we got back. 
 
 Remember the afternoon of April 29th, when we went to the 
 pistol range, and it rained? Lieutenant Wedow drove up in his car 
 with our slickers. We sure appreciated his thoughtfulness. 
 
 On May 1st we had a battle on Peanut Hill which lasted until 
 noon. We did noble work, — chased the blinkin' enemy darn near to 
 Montgomery. 
 
 Remember the big fire the night of May 1st? Corporal Scott 
 jumped out of bed and heroically blew his little whistle. 
 
 Shaps forgot how to count off, and the Skipper nearly ''tore 
 him down." 
 
 The cooks beat it to the fire with nothing but overcoats and 
 shoes on. 
 
 And finally when we did get formed up and, water pails in hand, 
 double-timed over to the Coliseum, we found that it was the piles of 
 hay and straw burning and that the division fire department had it 
 under control. 
 
 32 
 
And then they slapped a lot of fire-drills on us and ran us 
 around camp with' full pails of water, to put out imaginary fires, 
 until our tongues were hanging out. 
 
 ^'Simulate"— that's the word ! Next thing we know we'll have 
 a simulated pay-day. 
 
 On Friday, May 10th, our beloved foot-lockers went to the 
 wood-pile and we were reduced to the use of barrack-bags. 
 
 Alonday, May 20th, we turned in our cots and most of us 
 slacked the canvas and slept on top of the tents. Next day the 
 canvas of the tents was struck and the barrack-bags went to the 
 train. We had our choice of sleeping on the oily tent floors or out 
 in the street. The wise ones made hammocks of their shelter-halfs 
 and slung them from the rafters. 
 
 Camp Sheridan to Lee 
 
 May 22nd-2Ath, 1918 
 
 At last! We had about come to the conclusion that we were 
 to be marooned at Camp Sheridan for the period of the war when 
 we suddenly got orders to move. Our departure was carried out 
 quietly and with no vain regrets at the prospect. We entramed 
 about 9:00 P. M. the evening of May 22nd, with only our less- 
 fortunate comrades of the artillery-brigade to bid us farewell. 
 Although it had not been ofiicially announced, everyone knew that 
 our destination was Camp Lee, Petersburg, Virginia. The trip was 
 monotonous and uneventful. As we look back we find that our maui 
 impression was that day-coaches and three-in-a-seat-sleeping ac- 
 commodations were a deuce of a come-down from the Pullmans m 
 which we came to Sheridan. 
 
 Camp Lee 
 
 May 24th-June Uth, 1918 
 
 Camp Lee is a much larger cantonment than Camp Sheridan, 
 and being a National Army Camp the troops are quartered in 
 wooden buildings, or barracks. It is well laid out, the barracks 
 being built in regimental groups along both sides of a wide cement 
 luain avenue. The grounds, however, are absolutely devoid of vege- 
 tation, and as the soil is of a sandy nature, the slightest breeze 
 
 33 
 
raises a miniature sand-storm. All around the camp are broad 
 parade and drill fields, and at one point a complete trench system 
 has been built, which extends several miles back into the woods. 
 The camp also has a large library and a fine theater. It has excellent 
 car service to the city of Petersburg and a small amusement park 
 nearby. 
 
 ''Where's the strike?" — the greeting we received at Camp Lee. 
 To this may be traced the Lakemont Park battle, the discomfiture 
 of the Petersburg M. P.'s, and our nickname — "The Black-Hand 
 Division." 
 
 Did it ever occur to you to compare canvas cots to spring beds? 
 Barracks and spring beds! Imagine that for "Strike-Breakers." 
 
 Why did we hang around the Hostess House so much? Let 
 thy conscience be thy guide ! 
 
 Sunday, June 9th, Lieutenant Wedow disappeared right under 
 our noses, and Captain Wedow greeted us. That night we had ice 
 cream and cake for dessert, and although nobody said so, we know 
 the Skipper was at the bottom of it. Congratulations, Captain 
 \\^edow ! 
 
 Coming from Sheridan to Lee was like jumping out of the 
 frying pan into the fire. Phew! Wasn't it hot? 
 
 We discovered at Camp Lee that Smileage Books were good 
 for something! 
 
 Petersburg: — Half the size of Montgomery; half as interesting; 
 half as friendly to us ; in a word — pretty darned slow ! 
 
 The editor of that Petersburg "Squeal" must have had a son 
 in the N. A. 
 
 Camp Lee to Hoboken 
 
 June nth-l2th, 1918 
 
 Having been in readiness for a week to depart on short notice, 
 we made our exit from Camp Lee with very little bustle or con- 
 
 34 
 
fusion; boarding the train at 5:30 P. M. Tuesday, June 11th, and 
 pulhng out about an hour later. Officially we had not been informed 
 of our destination, but it was rumored universally to be Camp 
 Merritt, New Jersey. Except for a beautiful moonlight view of the 
 National Capitol as we passed through Washington, and the pic- 
 turesque, well ordered, homelike character of the seaboard country, 
 our journey was not markedly different from the others we had 
 made. It would be mere repetition to recount the usual troop-train 
 amusements in which we indulged. There were the customary 
 card-games, crap-games and songs and the same hanging out of 
 windows, shouting and whistling at every stop. 
 
 Wednesday, June 12th, we were treated to an astounding sur- 
 prise. Instead of finding ourselves in Camp Merritt, we detrained 
 in the Lackawanna Station at Hoboken. Here we marched without 
 delay into a large waiting room, and, stripping to the waist, received 
 our final overseas physical examination. Events crowded one 
 another so quickly that it was bewildering. In almost less time 
 than it takes to tell it, we were shunted through the station and 
 onto a ferryboat, ferried up the river and docked at the slips where 
 several great liners were tied up. Then came a very aggravating 
 delay of several hours in the receiving rooms of the wharf where 
 the U. S. S. Leviathan lay tied up ; a delay that seem.ed very irksome 
 to us in our keyed-up condition. Its only redeeming feature was 
 the serving of hot coffee and buns by women of the Red Cross. 
 
 At last, at about dusk, we got aboard the Leviathan and were 
 assigned our quarters for the voyage. We occupied the two lowest 
 decks in the bow of the great liner, — "G" and '*H" forward, — the 
 latter being almost at the water line. The bunks were numbered 
 and arranged in tiers of three, and each man upon passing over the 
 gangplank received a card bearing his deck and bunk number. To 
 avoid confusion we were ordered to remain in our bunks for the 
 rest of the night. No permission was given to wander about ship 
 or go up on the open decks, but this measure was hardly necessary, 
 as the majority of us, weary in mind and body, were quite content 
 to climb into our bunks and sleep. 
 
 The Leviathan 
 
 This great transport of ours, the U. S. S. Leviathan, was for- 
 merly the German liner Vaterland, one of the many German ships 
 
 35 
 
seized after the break in diplomatic relations between Germany and 
 
 the United States, and later con- 
 verted into carriers of troops. 
 Her engines and boilers had been 
 badly damaged before her crew 
 departed, and evidently Germany 
 believed the damage done to 
 these vital parts would be irre- 
 parable. American ingenuity 
 overcame them, and she put to 
 sea again, not only in perfect 
 condition, but capable of greater 
 speed than she had ever before 
 attained. She was, and still is, 
 the largest ship in the world, — 
 nine hundred and fifty-four feet 
 long, one hundred feet in beam, 
 with a displacement of sixty-nine 
 thousand tons. Her armament 
 consisted of big, six-inch, naval 
 guns, bow and stern, and she was 
 camouflaged from water line to 
 stacks with broad, zigzag stripes 
 of blue, black and dull gray. Probably our most vivid impression 
 of her was gained while we were waiting in the docks prior to em- 
 barkation. Her massive proportions seemed to dwarf all other 
 nearby shipping; even the great docks and warehouses seemed 
 smaller because of her proximity, and man became a nonentity. 
 The great ship seemed possessed of a personality. Though the 
 creation of man, she gave the paradoxical impression that their 
 comings and goings aboard her were subject to her domination, not 
 she to theirs. 
 
 New York to Brest 
 
 June Ihth'Jiinc 22nd 
 On the morning of Saturday, June 15th, our third day aboard, 
 we had our first "Abandon Ship Drill," and great was our sur- 
 prise when we reached the open decks and found that we were 
 moving! We must have been moving for some time for the 
 harbor laid behind us, and there, close by, loomed the Statue of 
 Liberty ! So great was the ship and so evenly did she lay on her 
 keel that, but for the testimony of our eyes, we would not have 
 believed our voyage had begun ; down in the vessel's bowels not 
 even a tremor had reached us. At exactly noon we passed Lib- 
 erty, and wnth hats ofif and a peculiar clutch at our throats, bade 
 farew^ell to our home-land ; never before had she been so dear to 
 us. Then, after that brief farewell, we were ordered below, and 
 
 36 
 
when next permitted on deck, after the afternoon mess, we were 
 out of sight of land ; nothing in view but the boundless blue 
 ocean, shimmering in the golden light of the lowering sun, the 
 white, foamy "wash'' from the ship's bows in an ever-widening 
 track behind her; a single destroyer chasing back and forth in 
 great half-circles before her, and far head a dirigible balloon 
 watching the green depths below for enemy submarines. 
 
 Once the glamour and excitement of new experience had 
 worn off. life settled again into routine and the days slipped by 
 slowly. Our continement to certain portions of the ship became 
 irksome ; there was no satisfaction in lying in our bunks down 
 in the dark lower decks, and little amusement could be gained 
 on the crowded open deck, — not even cloudy weather or a rough 
 sea came to relieve the ennui that seemed to grip everything. 
 Occasionally a tramp-steamer was sighted, arousing a ripple of 
 interest; in one case the Leviathan slackened speed while the 
 destroyer chased oft' to investigate the stranger and then re- 
 turned, apparently satisfied, to continue our course. On the 
 third day even the destroyer left us and we were absolutely 
 alone, with only the long 'Svireless" aerial to indicate that we 
 were still in touch with the world. 
 
 On the night of the seventh day out we were ordered to sleep 
 with all our clothes on, as we had entered the submarine danger- 
 zone. A\'ith a few dry remarks and jokes that showed a faint 
 undercurrent of apprehension, 
 we retired. However, no "subs" 
 came our way, and at 1 :00 P. 
 M. the next day, Saturday, June 
 22nd, we sighted land. Land ! 
 It was like meeting a long-lost 
 friend, and we strained our eyes 
 to gather in every detail of this 
 new country. Was it England 
 or France? We knew not; but 
 Rumor (inseparable part of the 
 army that she is) said it was 
 Brest, France, and Rumor was 
 right. At 3 :00 o'clock the Le- 
 viathan anchored in the pretty, 
 land-locked harbor of that port ; 
 a harbor sheltering many other 
 great transports, old style sail- 
 ing vessels, and innumerable 
 small craft of every type and 
 description. 
 
 We had l)ecn in rOvKliness 
 to debark several hours before 
 
 Zl 
 
the tugs or ferries came to take us off. Our company was 
 among the first to be landed and we made the short trip to the 
 dock just as the sun was setting, bathing the land and sea in 
 golden light. As the ferry tied up to the wharf and prepared 
 to discharge her human freight, we received our first greeting in 
 France ; small boys in dories and flat bottomed rowboats sur- 
 rounded us, and from all sides came the cries, "Gimme a see- 
 garette!" *'Gimme a penny!" Our national reputation for gen- 
 erosity had preceded us, borne by the thousands of khaki-clad 
 Americans who had landed here before. 
 
 We saw little indeed of the city of Brest; only the wharves, 
 railroad yards and that portion which lay along our route be- 
 came part of our ever increasing store of memories and experi- 
 ences. The company was hastily formed along a spur of track 
 and shortly thereafter we fell in line with the regiment and pro- 
 ceeded up the long hill through the town toward our camping 
 ground in the open country. It was a late hour and darkness 
 was settling fast, so we saw few civilians, although indeed there 
 were more "kids" hanging to the skirts of the column, begging 
 for pennies and cigarettes, than we relished. — That novelty began 
 to wear off. — Once clear of the town we halted on the road and 
 fell out along a high hedge to eat the sandwiches and cake that 
 had been issued to us before we left the boat, but even here we 
 were not at peace. "Donnez moi, sil-vous-plait" was still with 
 us! 
 
 We marched three miles through the cold, heavy mist that 
 was rolling in from the sea, and finally pitched pup-tents hap- 
 hazard in a wet field, which had evidently been used for the same 
 purpose before. This was the "Rest Camp" we had heard about 
 where we were to rest and clean up for a few days ! The morn- 
 ing sun revealed a chaos of confusion that the night had 
 shrouded ; pup-tents set at random, equipment scattered every- 
 where, and piles of rations and field kitchen impedimenta lying 
 on the ground. Everything was cold and soaked with dew, but 
 under the enlivening influence of the sun we set about the busi- 
 ness of "straightening up" with a will, and by noon had pro- 
 duced an orderly, clean encampment. When the work was done 
 and we had messed, we found time to look about us and realize 
 that this was Sunday, and our first day in France. 
 
 The surrounding country was mostly pastureland, squared 
 off in one-acre plots by tall, untrimmed hedges, and of rolling, 
 hilly character. There were a few high-gabled, red-tile roofed, 
 whitewashed stone houses within sight, but apparently the land 
 was devoted solely to dairy farms as indicated by the small 
 
 38 
 
herds of cows. In the distance could be seen a couple of church 
 spires, marking the sites of villages. Aside from our camp, how- 
 ever, there was nothing in the entire scene to indicate that we 
 were in a war-torn land. 
 
 'Git off of them winches!" 
 
 That major at the foot of "D" deck stairs: "All right; let's 
 go ! One, two, three, four ! One, two, three, four !'' 
 
 Going and coming to mess took up most of the day. It was 
 one grand rush ! Slowly, slowly, we struggled through the hot, 
 fetid, center troop-decks in long lines, then plunged four abreast 
 down the mess hall stairs into the chaos below, and past steam- 
 ing boilers of food to the tables. Having bolted the "eats" we 
 took another plunge into the swirling throng in the superheated 
 dish-washing room, and fought our way to the open air of the 
 upper deck. What a relief! 
 
 Spence Coleman and Lee Kurfis couldn't stand confinement 
 any longer. '*B" deck drew them as the magnet draws iron- 
 filings. Colonel Merrill (nuisance to pleasure seeking privates) 
 spotted them. — Extra duty for 
 the remainder of the voyage ! 
 
 Had it ended there they 
 couldn't have complained, but 
 the sergeants seemed to think 
 they were on extra duty for the 
 duration of the war ! 
 
 (Corporal Hull down in 
 **H-4" every morning.) *'Get 
 up ! Everybody get up." Lis- 
 ten to the birdie, boys! 
 
 George Tepper was guard 
 for a day or so near the first- 
 sergeants' mess-room, and lived 
 a life of ease and plenty. He 
 palmed himself off as a first ser- 
 geant every meal with com- 
 plete success. 
 
 >9 
 
Raines made enough money selling candy to enable him to 
 retire from the barber business. 
 
 Carlin "five-fingered" a "B" deck pass from the officers' 
 mess-hall. Where there's a will there's a way ! 
 
 Guess Lieutenants Fri and Smith had a helluva time keep- 
 ing order on their respective troop-decks. It was like trying to 
 sit on a bees' nest to keep the bees in, — bound to get stung! 
 
 They stuck poor Pap Southworth on guard down near the 
 galley, and then forgot where his post was. Pap, faithful soldier 
 that he is, stayed on all night. 
 
 Lt. Fri — *'Men ! This noise must stop ! Taps has blown ! 
 (Noise continues.) Corporal Shiffman, you will see to it that the 
 men maintain silence !" 
 
 Well, that was easy enough for Ben ! He was the one mak- 
 ing all the racket ! 
 
 Remember that sea-water hose bath we had up on "B" deck? 
 
 Now that we look back, it is amusing to note that they took 
 us to town in squads to let us lap up a little booze, — light wine 
 at that. Wonder what would happen if they tried that stunt now? 
 
 With due dignity, and an eye for the dramatic effect, the 
 Colonel announced on June 24th that we were to leave for the 
 battle front, and be held as reserves to be used in an emergency. 
 How thrilling! 
 
 That reminds us that, judging by the angle of his cute little 
 ''come to Jesus" cap, the Colonel had a snootful of that light wine 
 himself. 
 
 "Well," says Thomas Bruce. ''There have been some famous 
 men in this great war and they have rendered some great services, 
 but it would be a shame to forget that "Stand-to" Roush served 
 as one of the K. P.'s on the Leviathan. He says he's never been 
 hungry since." 
 
 40 
 
Lessiter tells us that when we were ordered to clean up our 
 mess kits for inspection at Brest, he was looking around for some 
 rags and saw Jesse Chisnell industriously at work. ''Where did 
 you get all the good rags, Jesse?" ''Oh, just a pair of dirty socks 
 I happened to have," replied the long-boy. 
 
 41 
 
Brest to Goncourt 
 
 June 25tJi-Junc 28th 
 
 We broke camp on Tuesday, June 25th, at 4:00 A. M., 
 although we could hardly see the necessity of rising at that hour 
 to stand around and shiver while the ''powers that be" fussed 
 over minor details. But c'est I'armee ! After the usual amount 
 of ''dilly-dallying" we were at last formed in column of squads 
 and marched into Brest, arriving at the railhead about 8 :00 
 o'clock. More standing around with packs on was our portion 
 before we entrained, — a period in which we had ample time to 
 look over our side-door Pullmans. 
 
 ■ We saw before us a long string of dinky box-cars on siding ; 
 the same famous "Hommes-40, Chevaux-8" wagons of which 
 Arthur Guy Empey has told the world. We had read of them 
 and knew what to expect, but the actual sight of them was an 
 awful jolt. Was it possible that we were to ride in those frail, 
 ill-smelling, four-wheeled little cattle-cars? A self-respecting 
 American steer would have rebelled at the prospect ! "At last," 
 we told one another, "we have reached the lowest ebb of trans- 
 portation, — from 'Pullmans' to this !" But the worst was yet to 
 come, — later in our experience we encountered trucks. 
 
 When at last we were herded, forty in a car, we began to 
 realize the difficulties before us if the trip should prove very 
 long. A crude set of benches had been constructed with a sup- 
 posed seating capacity of forty men ; in reality scarcely thirty 
 could manage to squeeze in. If they had been constructed as a 
 sop to our injured American ideas of comfort they failed igno- 
 miniously in their object, for by night we were cussing them 
 heartily and were strongly tempted to tear them out and cast 
 them from the car. 
 
 The beauty of the coimtry through which we were passing 
 temporarily caused us to forget our troubles. Here, indeed were 
 
 42 
 
scenes well worth looking at ; quaint villages, mere clusters of 
 a dozen white stone houses around a stone church, were scat- 
 tered at intervals of about three miles, their red tile roofs gleam- 
 ing brightly in the sunshine against the fresh green of the hedges 
 and fields ; white roads wound through them and disappeared 
 over the hills ; at each crossing of the railroad was a gatekeeper's 
 lodge and garden, choked with flowers and growing vegetables. 
 
 At one point we passed over a high bridge spanning a deep 
 cut in which, directly below us, nestled a town of quite large size, 
 whose main street was a sluggish canal which flowed between 
 low stone w^alls. Several barges and canal boats were tied up at 
 the wharves, but there was apparently little traffic, as the tow- 
 path seemed littered and grass-grown from disuse. 
 
 When night came and we could no longer find amusement 
 at the car doors, our real troubles began. We had messed on 
 cold victuals, — ''Willie," bread and tomatoes, — and felt unsatis- 
 fied as a result. There began a ceaseless squirming and turning, 
 grunting and growling, fervent outbursts of cussing, as we tried 
 to maneuver our tangled bodies and legs into at least semi- 
 comfortable positions. Alas ! it was an impossibility ; we suc- 
 ceeded only in snatching sleep at odd moments as the endless 
 night wore on. So that those near the car doors might find relief 
 from the cold night air, it was necessary to close them, and by 
 morning, like that of a prison, the atmosphere was foul with the 
 reek of its former occupants, the cattle, and vitiated by the breath- 
 ing of forty human beings. A small few of us, preferring w^ake- 
 fulness and fresh air to stifling within, found refuge in the brake- 
 man's towers outside. 
 
 After three days of this sort of traveling, slow at the best 
 and further delayed by frequent stops and lay-overs on sidings, 
 we entered a very mountainous country and passed through 
 numerous tunnels. Our route from Brest had led through the 
 cities of Saint Brienc, Orleans, Le Mans, Chatillon-sur-Loire, 
 Is-sur-Tille, Nevers and Dijon, and on toward the Vosges Moun- 
 tains. We were several hours late and instead of reaching our 
 destination at 11:00 A. M. June 27th, as scheduled, we ar'rived 
 at 2:00 A. M. the morning of the 28th. 
 
 The night was extremely dark, damp and chilly when the 
 train came to a stop, and the orders to detrain were shouted 
 hoarsely into the car doors. We were terribly weary from lack 
 of sleep, and piled out onto a sort of gravel platform in a daze. 
 Those that found spirit enough to look about the place were 
 poorly repaid for the efifort ; all that could be seen was the dusky 
 train, a couple of shacks, and the hazy outline of a steep hill with 
 
 43 
 
an intangible suggestion of a tower near the summit. We were 
 hastily formed in column of squads and, skirting the train, 
 entered a small village whose presence we had failed to observe 
 before. It seemed as though the heavy footsteps of the men and 
 the clattering of horses' hoofs were loud enough to awaken the 
 dead, but the sleeping villagers were apparently undisturbed, — 
 not a single curious head appeared in a window or door. No 
 doubt they were accustomed long ago to the sound of marching 
 men at all hours of the day or night. 
 
 As we left the village, which we found later Avas St. Thie- 
 bault, the cloud bank overhead scudded by and the clear light of 
 the moon revealed to us a broad, rolling valley up which our road 
 wound, glistening white. The road hugged the left side, close 
 to the low, rugged hills. After a hike of about three miles we 
 halted at a group of old, wooden, tar-papered barracks for the 
 rest of the night, and early next morning moved on. We had not 
 far to go ; about five hundred yards from the barracks a bend of 
 the road revealed another village nestling at the foot of the hills, 
 and we were assigned to billets in the old stone houses. The 
 name of the village w^as Goncourt, and we were to remain there 
 indefinitely. 
 
 44 
 
June 28th-JuIy 23rd 
 
 The village of Goncourt is located on the Meuse River at a 
 point about fifteen kilometres south of the city of Neuf-Chateau, 
 in the foot-hills of the Vosges Mountains. Like all the small 
 towns of about five hundred population in this district of France, 
 it nestles down in a hollow of the land, a cluster of closely built 
 stone houses around a small church. To the tourist or stranger 
 these villages are a continual surprise ; one comes upon them 
 suddenly around a bend of the road where he never suspected a 
 town to exist, and, having passed on, finds that they have disap- 
 peared just as mysteriously, — swallowed up in the folds of the 
 land or hidden among the heavily wooded ridges. 
 
 Goncourt is laid out in the rough form of the letter "T," 
 although to be true, its streets are far from being as straight as 
 that letter would indicate. Its main street, the Grande Rue, is 
 merely a portion of the Neuf-Chateau road running due north. 
 Another road leads out of town to the east across the Meuse 
 toward the village of Sommrecourt, while the road forming the 
 other arm of the "T" curves west toward the city of Chaumont. 
 At the cross of the ''T" on a little knoll is the village church, a 
 small stone building surmounted by a high, slender belfry and 
 spire. Practically all the stores are to be found on the Grande 
 Rue ; the Epecerie, — sweets and notions ; Mercerie, — dry-goods ; 
 Roucherie, — butcher shop ; Boulangerie, — grocery, and a few 
 wineshops. One has to seek out these stores more by instinct 
 than by sight ; they are usually concealed in houses of ordinary 
 appearance, behind closed shutters and indicated only by small, 
 grimy, and often partially obliterated signs. 
 
 The houses were all of similar type, built of rough sand- 
 stone, in most cases unchiseled and laid just as it was quarried, 
 the chinks being filled with chips and coarse mortar. This method 
 of construction necessitated great thickness of walls, and most 
 of them measured at least two feet. The roofs were mostly of , 
 tile, high-gabled, and laid on frames of heavy rough-hewn rafters. 
 
 45 
 
A few of the poorer houses were roofed with thin sla1)s of stone 
 overlaid with grasses. Usually one side of the house was de- 
 voted to two or three rooms for the family, while, separated by 
 a partition, the other half contained the stables for the cattle and 
 horses. In the loft above was kept a store of hay and straw. 
 The larger and more pretentious houses had walled gardens at 
 the rear, but there were few of these ; most houses had no sign 
 of a garden, and often their rear walls butted solidly against 
 the hillside. Every house had its manure pile in the front door 
 yard. Truly, as Mark Twain said, one could judge their wealth 
 by the size and offensiveness of their manure pile ! 
 
 When we first entered the town we were crowded into two 
 or three lofts filled with musty straw, old chicken w^ire, pallets 
 or bunks, dust, and old worn out bits of clothing left by former 
 occupants. Later we were assigned to somewhat better, lighter 
 and more cleanly billets in the northern end of the town. To be 
 truthful, it must be said that these billets were clean only after 
 we had cleared and swept them of all rubbish ; but though we 
 labored often and even cleaned the streets each day it was im- 
 possible to maintain very sanitary conditions. However, in a 
 week's time we grew accustomed to the odor of the stables below 
 us and thought no more of it. 
 
 Our kitchen and mess hall, because no other adequate quar- 
 ters could be obtained, were situated at the opposite end of the 
 town from our billets, and therefore we went to mess in company 
 formation. It seemed very peculiar at first to line up for mess 
 in the village street, but the unusual was rapidly supplanting the 
 former routine of our army life so, like the billets, it became a 
 mere matter of course. 
 
 There were many things becoming matters of course, but w^e 
 haci not yet become accustomed to the lack of baths ; conse- 
 quently, over ten days having elapsed since our hose-bath on 
 the Leviathan, we rushed at the earliest opportunity to the Meuse 
 River when we arrived in Goncourt. Perhaps most of us had 
 expected to find a fairly wide and clean stream because the Meuse 
 was marked "river" on the map and we had read so much con- 
 cerning it in the war news, but all of us were disappointed. It 
 was a mere creek that flowed lazily between low, grassy banks and 
 reedy marshes. The slightest disturbance caused the ooze of the 
 bottom to rile the water. Baths and the washing of clothes were 
 a necessity, however, so we swallowed our disappointment and 
 made the best of the matter. 
 
 We had only a couple of days of freedom, and then, on Mon- 
 day, July 1st, we entered upon our first drill schedule in France. 
 After a week of drill at the trench system a few miles from town, 
 
 46 
 
consisting mostly of squad drill, calisthenics, target designation, 
 elementary machine gun drill, and lectures by the French cap- 
 tain detailed to our company, we retired to our own special drill 
 grounds on the hillside around our mess hall and settled down in 
 earnest to strictly machine gun Avork. Many of our men were 
 those transferred to the company just before we left Sheridan, 
 but the interest and speed which they exhibited in mastering the 
 new work enabled us to progress wonderfully. When we went 
 to a nearby machine gun range on the eighteenth of July, we all 
 made splendid records. We crowded the few weeks we were at 
 Goncourt with incessant w^ork, and consequently when we were 
 ordered to move to the front on the twenty-third we were well 
 trained and full of confidence. 
 
 The sergeants w^ere billeted in a very cozy loft while we 
 were at Goncourt, but Waldo had the edge on the rest of them. 
 The old lady w^ho lived below took a shine to him and offered 
 him a good old feather bed in one of her spare rooms. That 
 same evening he went out and soaked up quite a bit of Vin Rouge 
 which proved more powerful than he had anticipated ; at any rate, 
 the sergeants say that, judging by the clamor and racket that 
 went on wdien he got back, Waldo must have gotten into the 
 wrong bed. 
 
 When we finally did get a Y. M. C. A. at Goncourt, it was 
 usually closed except during drill hours, when nobody could get 
 
 to it. 
 
 Do you remember that grand and glorious feeling when, on 
 July 10th, the Camp Lee mail 
 reached us? 
 
 Gosh, what fiends we were 
 chocolate dui 
 month in France ! 
 
 for chocolate during that first 
 
 Were you one of the dudes 
 that celebrated the glorious 
 Fourth by going on wood detail 
 three miles into the country 
 when there was "boo-coo" wood 
 within a hundred yards of the 
 mess-hall? 
 
 Remember that old maid 
 school teacher who preferred of- 
 ficers to enlisted men? Well, 
 
 47 
 
we know what she got ! (We don't mean that nice schooh-na'am 
 who taueht the men French every evening.) 
 
 Sing a song of Gonconrt, 
 Coleman wants some meat, — 
 Comes in late at mess-time, 
 Goes out again, ''Tout-suite !" 
 
 Lieutenant Fri was bashful, — he always struck a September 
 Morn pose whenever he was in swimming and a skirt appeared 
 on the horizon. 
 
 We were issued wrap-leggings and overseas caps shortly after 
 our arrival in Goncourt, and then, as is characteristic of the army, 
 were forbidden to wear them. 
 
 Wlien they finally did conclude to let us ^year them what a 
 motley appearance we made! Those spirals simply couldn't be 
 molded to the leg, and each lap hung out like the ruffles on an old 
 fashioned pair of "Panties." 
 
 Old "Sir Bunnyface" Carlin was a great student of French. 
 One day he caught a little French boy up in his billet and sus- 
 pected him of stealing some chocolate that he had missed. He 
 chased the lad out and then seeing the mother in the street below, 
 tried to tell her to keep him out in the future. She couldn't under- 
 stand and Carlin lost his temper. 
 
 "Dammit!" he shouted. "Garcon Venir— up— here— and— er 
 — apporter chocolat !" 
 
 Johnson seeks adventure, 
 
 Spencer wants some, too, 
 
 So they go to Bourmont 
 
 There to "Parle-vous." 
 
 Get to feeling classy. 
 
 Come back on the train. 
 
 Train speeds right through Goncourt, 
 
 They can't get off' again! 
 
 When the train stops running, 
 
 Thev're in Neuf-Chateau. 
 
 M. P. says, "Get out of here!" 
 
 Where can soldats go? 
 
 Sleeping in the bushes, 
 
 48 
 
Dew is cold and wet, 
 Hiking- back on Sunday, 
 Guess they won't forget! 
 
 When you seek adventure, 
 In this land of France, 
 If you take a railroad train, 
 You also take a chance! 
 
 —VAN. 
 
 On Friday, July 12th, Captain Wedow, Sergeant Stimmel 
 and Sergeant Chapman left the company for a month of IMachine- 
 srun School. 
 
 Dirty work ! Vic and Perk went back on us and helped pre- 
 pare the gashouse for the torture of their comrades. However, 
 guess we'ought to thank them, for it taught us that gas masks 
 were made to be used. We sure hung on to our "Return Tickets 
 to Hoboken" thereafter ! 
 
 Zellner was hungry, very hungry, the day we arrived in 
 Goncourt. "My stomach thought my throat was cut," he says. 
 "I snooped around town until I spotted a family eating dinner. 
 I went in and after much rag-chewing and sign language, suc- 
 ceeded in making them "compree" that I wanted something to 
 eat. Then I sat down to wait until they had finished, and noticed 
 that they made a good deal of noise wdiile eating the soup. Far be 
 it from me to ofifend these sensitive people, thought I, so when 
 they brought mine I made noise enough to be heard across the 
 street, much to their delight." 
 
 Evidently "When in Rome, do as the Romans do" is the 
 motto of the diplomatic Private Zellner. 
 
 "I'll do most anything for money," says the sober and indus- 
 trious Sir Henry Ol'iver Slopjar Sparks, "but I had to quit dog- 
 robbin' — was:es was too uncertain." 
 
 W^e don't kick much at having the non-coms go in to mess at 
 the head of the line, but darned if we can see this stuff of their 
 butting into the dish-washing line. It was started at Goncourt, 
 but stopped "toot-sweet !" 
 
 We never put off until tomorrow the things we shouldn't do 
 today. Result — Extra Duty ! 
 
 49 
 
Absolute knowledge I have none 
 
 But my aunt's wash-woman's sister's son 
 
 Heard a policeman on his beat 
 
 Say to a laborer on the street 
 
 That he had a letter just last week 
 
 Written in the finest Greek 
 
 From a Chinese coolie in Timbuctu 
 
 Who said that the negroes in Cuba knew 
 
 Of a colored man in a Texas town 
 
 Who got it straight from a circus clown 
 
 That a man in the Klondike heard the news 
 
 From a gang of South American Jews 
 
 About somebody in Borneo 
 
 Who knew a man who claims to know 
 
 Of a swell society female fake 
 
 Whose mother-in-law will undertake 
 
 To prove that her seventh husband's sister's niece 
 
 Had stated in a printed piece 
 
 That she had a son who had a friend 
 
 Who knows when the war is going to end ! 
 
 — Apologies to Someone. 
 
 According to Hamer Farrell the only women who aren't dan- 
 gerous to a soldier's peace of mind are over seventy and under 
 seven. 
 
 Advice to M. P.'s. If you are tempted to cuss the army, 
 remember that the doughboys in the trenches do their hardest 
 work at 4:30 in the morning, and they don't stop when their eight 
 hours are up or get a chance to loaf around a wine-shop. They 
 haven't even a YMCA to get to and often not a cigarette to 
 smoke. 
 
 50 
 
Goncourt to Bru 
 
 July ?J^rd, 1918 
 
 Being the last company to leave Goncourt we were naturally 
 ''saddled" with the work of the final clean-up of the town. Early 
 in the morning, having brought our packs to the mess-hall, we 
 were detailed by squads to police all the streets and billets which 
 had been occupied by the regiment. This occupied our time until 
 almost noon, our work also having included the salvaging of all 
 equipment that had been left behind. 
 
 Leaving the village at about one o'clock in a fine drizzling 
 rain, we marched without halt to Saint Thiebolt, the town at 
 which we had detrained less than a month ago. Nearby, on a 
 very high and steep hill, is the town of Bourmont. Having 
 loaded and then taken on our travel rations, we were soon on our 
 way. The train made excellent speed and before night we had 
 passed through Neuf-Chateau, Toul and Nancy, and were headed 
 southeast in the general direction of Luneville, which town, how- 
 ever, we did not enter, having taken a branch road that bore us 
 further to the south. At about midnight we detrained at a rail- 
 head near the village of Moyen. 
 
 Great care and strict precautions were taken against the 
 showing of lights; a fact that in the light of later experiences 
 seems amusing, but which was really quite necessary to our 
 safety, as the railhead had recently been a target for numerous 
 air-raids. We were now higher up in the mountains, and the wet 
 night air penetrated to our very bones as we waited throughout 
 the dark hours until morning. No one seemed to know why we 
 did not move from the railhead, although it was whispered that 
 we were awaiting trucks. Conversation and conjecture as to our 
 final destination ran rife among us, some insisting that we were 
 going directly to the front lines ; others ''pooh-poohing'' the 
 notion and stating their belief that we were to be billeted in some 
 town near, but not on, the front. The latter faction, which had 
 considered the problem coolly, were correct, — at seven that morn- 
 ing we were loaded in trucks and after a two-hour ride, which 
 ended at the small town of Bru, two and a half kilometers from 
 Rambervillers, we entered billets. 
 
 51 
 
July 23rd- August 2nd 
 
 Bru, a village not quite as large as Goncourt, lies in a valley 
 flanked by the green Vosges Mountains. In appearance it is 
 much the same as Goncourt, having the same type of houses and 
 stores and being built along the main road. In the center of the 
 town, branching at right angles to the north of the "main drag" 
 to Rambervillers, is another road along which part of the village 
 is strung. There is a tiny stone bridge at this junction of the two 
 roads under which flows a clear, narrow, mountain brook, and 
 here was our favorite lounging spot. The village church and 
 most of our billets were on this street, as almost every house 
 along the conspicuous main road had been destroyed by air-raids 
 or dynamited during the occupation by the Germans in the first 
 flush of their success at the beginning of the war. Bru was the 
 point at which the invading tide had been turned back in the 
 Lorraine Sector. The Huns never reached Rambervillers, one of 
 their important objectives because of its railroads. Our kitchen 
 was set up in one of the ruined dwellings. 
 
 Our work at Bru was very light, as we were now in actual 
 fighting zone reserve, and subject to air observation and attacks. 
 Our sojourn here was really a rest from the intensive training at 
 Goncourt prior to our entrance into the front line. 
 
 A Ghost Story 
 
 Any man who was unfortunate enough to have been on street 
 guard while we were at Bru will undoubtedly appreciate this 
 story, especially if his post led by the old church. In fact, almost 
 every man has a clear vision of that old church and the graveyard 
 surrounding it; the strange beadwork wreaths, old headstones, 
 and the graves of fallen French soldiers in the corner of the walls 
 at the rear, marked only by wooden crosses and medallions of 
 red, white and blue bearing their names. 
 
 It was Private Stewart's trick at guard. He and his partner 
 on guard had heard a great deal about the strange squeaking 
 
 52, 
 
noise which was said to issue from the church belfry at night, 
 and they determined to investigate it. The guards they reHeved 
 told them with rather ashamed countenances, but with evident 
 sincerity, that they had heard this strange creaking and that, 
 though loath to believe in ghosts, it had surely caused a "creepy 
 feeling." 
 
 Midnight came, and "Stew" and his fellow guard met at the 
 little stone bridge. The night Avas intensely still and the moon 
 shone from a clear sky, bathing the town in pale light. 
 
 "I've heard it. Stew," said the other. "Listen!" 
 
 They were quite some distance from the church, but faintly 
 through the still night air came a curious sound not unlike the 
 buzzing of a locust or the creaking of a shutter swinging on its 
 hinges. They listened intently, but suddenly it ceased, possibly 
 drowned by a slight breeze that sprung up. Both took a hitch at 
 their belts. 
 
 "Well,— let's go I" 
 
 As they neared the church the noise began again, gaining in 
 volume as they approached. They halted in the shadow of a house 
 and gazed up at the belfry. The noise continued, but seemed sub- 
 dued, like the tw^ittering of a bird. It came at regular intervals, 
 as the swinging of a pendulum. A door of the church stood 
 slightly ajar. The situation was "creepy" indeed ! 
 
 "Oh, Hell," said Stew, "let's go up and find out what it is." 
 
 They slipped quietly across the street and up the wide stone 
 steps. Within, they were in semi-darkness, but succeeded in find- 
 ing the door to the belfry stairs. Up they went, — on tiptoes, and 
 w^ith hands on their pistols. The creaking became plainer, and 
 finally, with bated breath they entered the room that contained 
 the mechanism of the big church clock. There was nothing to 
 shoot at. The strange noise proved to be only the creaking of 
 the weights as they descended at regular intervals. 
 
 Now that the mystery was solved their two minds held but a 
 single thought: "Let's have some fun out of this." 
 
 Next day they took Vic Norris and Coleman into their con- 
 fidence, and spread the tale of the strange noise through the com- 
 pany, not mentioning the fact, of course, that they had investi- 
 gated it. That night they corralled a few unsuspecting, but nervy 
 comrades, for the purpose of discovering the ghosts, among them 
 Lee Kurfis and George Bartow. Stewart and Coleman disap- 
 peared quietly and hid themselves in the belfry above the clock. 
 Led by Vic and Johnson the innocents entered the church and 
 mounted the stairs. With the shaded light of matches they pussy- 
 
 53 
 
footed upward. The creaking noise grew more plain, and just at 
 the entrance of the clock-room the two conspirators that were 
 leading them halted. 
 
 "Listen!" they whispered. 
 
 Another sound reached their trembling ears — a low, subdued, 
 ghostly moaning and groaning issued from the dark heights of 
 the belfry. 
 
 "My gosh, let's get out of here," cried Bartow, and turning 
 on the stairs the whole bunch stampeded. Johnson and Norris 
 remained behind to congratulate Stew and Coleman upon their 
 excellent impersonation of ghosts. Kurfis, however, had not been 
 fooled. They found him waiting at the entrance of the church, — 
 the rest had taken to their heels, — and but for him they would 
 have been locked in the church by the old priest, who had been 
 aroused by the unseemly racket and was closing and locking the 
 doors ! 
 
 Our First Air-Raid 
 
 Monday— July 29th, 1918 
 
 Few of us will ever forget that first air-raid at Bru. Although 
 we found out later that it was over the city of Rambervillers, 
 two and a half kilometers away, we shall always consider it "our" 
 air-raid, for we were sure that night that it was intended for us. 
 
 Most of us had been in our bunks for an hour or two and 
 were fast asleep. At about 10:00 P. M. we were awakened by a 
 series of sharp explosions, the whir of motors, and the popping 
 of machine guns. A few seconds 
 later the guards came rushing 
 through the billets with the cry, 
 "Everybody out." We hurriedly 
 donned our clothes, — many were 
 already dressing, — and tumbled 
 into the streets. Lieutenant Shultz 
 ordered everyone to take cover and 
 keep off the streets, and we scat- 
 tered like chaff before the wind. 
 Some of us did not stop until we 
 were out in the open fields beyond 
 the limits of the village. 
 
 Meanwhile a terrific commo- 
 tion was going on somewhere 
 above us. We could see nothing 
 although we gazed intently at the 
 
 54 
 
star-splashed heavens and scanned them from horizon to horizon 
 Half a dozen more "socks" were dropped, the explosions shakinc^ 
 the ground beneath our feet. A lively air battle was in full 
 swmg,— we could tell by the buzzing of the motors and staccato 
 bursts of machme gun fire that the planes were darting swoop- 
 ^"fV^}7^"^ ^"^ charging one another. Signal-balloons' glowed 
 reddish-yellow along the northern horizon towards the front lines. 
 Then, just as suddenly as it began, the raid came to an end. The 
 enemy fled for his own lines, closely pursued by our planes The 
 whirring of motors grew fainter and fainter, then indistinct, and 
 hnally beyond earshot. 
 
 The following night the raiders came again and a hot battle 
 ensued directly over the town. One enemy plane swooped down 
 to withm a hundred yards of the main road and swept it with 
 machine gun fire. Most of us, however, remained in bed, content 
 to let them go to it, and refusing to be stirred up again as we 
 were the night before. 
 
 Scott jumped about a foot in the air at the crash of the first 
 bomb, scrambled into half his clothes, grabbed his range-finder 
 and tore out into the street. He ripped and roared, ordered the 
 g;uns mounted, and raved about connecting files and the ammuni- 
 tion dump. Then he set up his range-finder and tried to get the 
 range on the enemy. Might as well have tried the North Star ' 
 After that we called him Range-finder Scott 
 
 One old French dame started running around with a lighted 
 lantern, — guess she was going to help Scott get the range ! 
 
 Meanwhile a few birds with an eye for opportunity got away 
 with half the contents of her wine-cellar. 
 
 Bugler Speary had to crawl under the little stone bridge on 
 his hands and knees through the water to get away from the fire 
 of the plane which was shooting up the burg the second night. 
 
 _ Most of the civilians remained in their houses during both 
 raids. No doubt they thought we were a bunch of maniacs, and 
 you can hardly blame them,— especially when vou consider "get- 
 ting the range." 
 
 "Educated" Ben Shiflfman, Seaman, "Bunnv" Donahue and 
 Matt Manning spent most of their time at that little brick bakery. 
 
 55 
 
We couldn't *'see" her sister, but SHE was certainly a very petite 
 and jolie mademoiselle. 
 
 Remember that old Frog who was Zig-Zag one night and 
 amused us for over an hour turning somersaults, dancing the 
 wiggles, and eating live cigarette butts? 
 
 Dick Evans was very bashful. He wouldn't kiss little Mar- 
 guerite even w^hen she asked him. But Scotty wasn't a bit back- 
 ward about it. 
 
 Sunday, the 28th, all gun squad corporals and gunners left 
 for the Front. 
 
 Bru to the Front 
 
 August 2nd- August 3rd 
 
 We left Bru the evening of Friday, August 2nd, at 7:30 P. 
 M., to enter the front lines for the first time. The dusk of evening 
 settled into impenetrable darkness as we came to the end of the 
 first hour of hiking and halted at the village of Saint Benoit to 
 rest. At Saint Benoit we turned northward into the rough, wild 
 southern ranges of the Vosges Mountains. The roads were very 
 narrow and winding, flanked by the tall pine, cedar, oak and pop- 
 lar, and bordered by treacherous ditches. It was impossible to 
 see ten feet ahead ; even the ranks of the men before us were 
 scarcely visible, and consequently the march was very trying to 
 the nerves as we had to virtually feel our way through the inky 
 blackness and were in constant danger of walking ofif into the 
 ditches. 
 
 After four hours of steady hiking we emerged into mountain- 
 ous but comparatively clear country. Here the road hugged 
 closely to the side of the ridge. Below was a broad valley. The 
 night was so murky and so heavy with dew that, until our eyes 
 had grown accustomed to the change of light after emerging from 
 the forest, we thought the level, grayish-white mist that shrouded 
 the valley was the smooth surface of a lake. This is an optical 
 illusion very common in all mountainous portions of France. 
 
 We had covered over twenty kilometers of the rugged roads 
 and were *'dog-tired." Only a soldier who has trudged these 
 w^eary distances under full pack and complete equipment can ap- 
 preciate the meaning of that expression ; the sawing, cramping, 
 
 56 
 
and rheumatic pains that come in the shoulders from the binding 
 slings of heavy blanket-rolls ; the sharp burning of the skin where 
 the pistol belt rubs the hip-bones ; the feeling of collapse that 
 comes in the thighs ; the sandy, blistered sensation and aching 
 arches in the feet. All these things tend to sap the entire strength 
 of the body, but somehow we have had the will to ''stick'' drilled 
 into us. Our former Captain, now Major Chambers, succeeded 
 in instilling a "never-say-die" spirit into the company that we 
 have carried through the war. We make this statement without 
 the slightest intent to belittle our comrades in the line companies 
 of the regiment, that in the Machine Gun Company a man would 
 feel intensely ashamed to give in and fall out of ranks on a march. 
 A very few have done this during our travels and then only be- 
 cause they were really ill, or completely exhausted. In looking 
 back over the past we realize that our capacity of endurance has 
 often reacted against us, and that we have been pressed harder in 
 many marches than we might otherwise have been, but we always 
 pulled through in good shape, and now we are proud of our 
 record. 
 
 After w^e emerged from the black forest we hiked only two 
 kilometers further, and at 11 :30 halted at a small cluster of five 
 or six houses and were billeted in the hay lofts. Our kitchen had 
 hot coffee ready for us in a short time, but most of us were so 
 weary that we passed it up, and flopping down in the hay, drew 
 our overcoats over us and fell asleep. 
 
 As it was necessary, because of the possibility of observation 
 by enemy planes, to make all movements after dark, we enjoyed a 
 long sleep and rest the following day. Many of us wandered 
 about the woods and valleys in the vicinity, which we found very 
 interesting. There were old trenches and barbed-wire defences 
 built across the low lands of the valley and extending up and over 
 the wooded hills. We found many old dugouts of marvelous 
 depth, and investigated their dark, wet recesses until our curi- 
 osity was satisfied and our ardor for exploration had flagged. 
 
 At seven-thirty that evening we again took the road, which 
 now became more winding as it followed the side of the valley. 
 W^e passed through the towns of La Chapelle and Betrichamps 
 and then entered the wild hills again, traveling in a general north- 
 easterly direction. Pitch darkness settled once more over the 
 land and there was an indication of coming rain in the air and 
 sky. Two men were detailed as aeroplane guards and marched 
 a couple of hundred yards ahead of the main body where the 
 tramp of feet would not interrupt hearing. We halted several 
 times at the sound of buzzing motors overhead and took up the 
 march again when it ceased, sticking at all times to the darkest 
 
 57 
 
portion of the road, a precaution really unnecessary because of 
 the blackness of the night. 
 
 Just beyond Betrichamps we passed a column of troops our 
 division was relieving, — men of the 77th Division. They greeted 
 us with many shouts and sallies, among which one was often re- 
 peated, — ''Give 'em hell, boys, — we did." We didn't argue then 
 about the brand of hell they claimed to have given ''J^^^'Y/' fo^" 
 we felt that as they were apparently troops who had seen service 
 we had no right to judge them. 
 
 As we penetrated further into the mountains the road be- 
 came correspondingly more difficult and our progress was slow. 
 At Indian Village, the supply base for the sector, we halted to 
 drop the ration cart from the column. Indian Village is a portion 
 of a dense w^oods throughout which are scattered numerous small 
 shacks, stables and warehouses, safe from air observation to any 
 great extent. It was midnight when we stopped there, and of 
 course we could see nothing more of the place than a break in 
 the line of trees that gave entrance to it. After leaving Indian 
 Village we went down a steep narrow defile into the town of 
 Neuf Maisons, — which lay in a deep sheltered valley, — through 
 its silent echoing streets, and up another steep hill to the plateau 
 beyond. We were now about five kilometers from the front and 
 on high, clear ground, — an extremely exposed position. The 
 weather, however, was in our favor, the sky being overcast with 
 a thick blanket of black storm clouds and rain beginning to fall. 
 
 After slightly more than an hour of steady hiking we came 
 to a gradual descent and entered a small village which we learned 
 later was Pexonne. Here the storm broke in all its fury. We 
 were forced to halt, as it was absolutely impossible to see the 
 way ahead. The night had been dark, but now came blackness 
 indescribable. The shadowy buildings faded from sight; it was 
 as though we had plunged into an inky void. For over half an 
 hour the rain fell in torrents and we were soaked to the skin. 
 Although we cannot vouch for the truth of it, the statement was 
 made later that this forced delay saved us a great deal of danger 
 and trouble, as the enemy shelled the road near the front about 
 half an hour before we came through, having had information of 
 our coming. When the storm had spent itself and the darkness 
 had lifted sufficiently for us to proceed, we went on through the 
 town, stopping again at the building used for headquarters of the 
 battalion to pick up more ammunition and the men from the other 
 division who were to guide us to our positions. As we left the 
 town we adjusted our gas masks to the alert position. 
 
 We were now nearing the front and on a winding but level 
 road, camouflaged on the sides by screents of wire-netting which 
 
 58 
 
supported a mass of pine twigs, thus preventing observation of 
 traffic from all points except directly overhead. There were also 
 screens strung across the road at intervals of about twenty or 
 thirty yards, which hung high enough to permit the passage of 
 wagons and prevented angular observations by enemy balloons. 
 Of course such camouflage is readily apparent to the enemy, but 
 its purpose is to conceal, rather than to deceive the eye. The 
 clouds had partially cleared, and through the occasional breaks 
 in the road-screen we could see that we were on a rolling plateau 
 which resolved itself into a series of ridges directly ahead of us. 
 The dull booming of guns which had been previously drowned 
 by the storm, now became more distinct, and occasional flashes 
 of lurid red or the glare of distant star-shells could be seen. As 
 we advanced these warlike manifestations increased, and finally 
 we reached a point where the glare of the flares lit up the scene 
 with the intensity of lightning. 
 
 Suddenly we struck a sharp curving descent of the road, and 
 a moment later we were on the paved streets of a town. It was 
 Badonviller, the deserted city that lay on the edge of No Man's 
 Land. Here we we^e at the mOst dangerous point of our march, 
 as the Germans shelled the place regularly each night to hamper 
 any possible troop movements or the passage of ration and am- 
 munition trains. Our machine-gun carts rattled loudly over the 
 cobbles, and the sound of hoofs and the tramp of feet kept our 
 hearts in our mouths. One mule burst into a shrill "Hee-Haw," 
 and that started them all. We thought sure that it was our death 
 warrant, but Jerry must have been drowsing for we were unmo- 
 lested. Shortly after entering the town we turned sharply to the 
 right down a street lined with ruined dwellings and public build- 
 ings. Broken shutters banged in the wind, which whined dis- 
 mally through empty rooms and deserted galleries of tottering 
 structures. The gurgling of water from the fountain-head of a 
 stone watering trough seemed a strange sound in w^hat might be 
 termed a dead city. Again we turned to the right and shortly 
 left the town, halting along a narrow road behind a densely 
 wooded ridge. 
 
 We unloaded the guns, tripods, and ammunition boxes, and 
 each platoon was guided to positions and dugouts over the crest 
 of the hill. Our officers established themselves in their quarters, 
 — a small stone building, — and the relief was complete. We were 
 now in the front line of the Baccarat Sector, and awaited the com- 
 ing of the morning, still four hours away, to completely organize 
 and make a reconnaissance of the situation. Our mules were 
 taken back tojndian Village but the carts were put in shelters in 
 the woods built for that purpose. 
 
 59 
 

 On the Front 
 
 August 4:th- August S)th 
 
 Our first bit of front line service lasted only five days, but 
 was filled to the brim with a new brand of excitement and adven- 
 ture. 
 
 The first day, Sunday, August 4th, was spent in getting 
 settled; setting up the kitchen, picking and organizing the gun 
 positions and guard details, preparing a system of liasion, or 
 
 communications between gun 
 positions and platoon headquar- 
 ters, platoon and company head- 
 quarters, and company and bat- 
 talion headquarters. This done, 
 we settled into the routine of 
 front line troops ; observing 
 "Jerry's" movements, strength- 
 ening our positions, standing 
 guard against surprise by night 
 raids or gas attacks, caring for 
 our guns and equipment, and 
 sending out reconnoitering par- 
 ties at night to the Infantry Out- 
 posts in No Man's Land. The 
 main purpose of our presence 
 here was to begin that *'season- 
 insf" which is necessarv to the 
 
 production of fighting troops, 
 and we entered into the work 
 with a will and a marvelous 
 eagerness to learn. 
 
 Our positions lay on a long, high ridge that was densely 
 wooded and admirably adapted to concealment. The ridge over- 
 looked a broad rolling valley or series of minor folds in the land 
 in which were our infantry outposts and No Man's Land. On 
 
 60 
 
the opposite side was another wooded ridge, lower than ours, on 
 which were the German Hnes. Directly in front of our line the 
 land was clear, affording an unbroken view of the valley and 
 the far-ofif series of ridges behind the enemy's lines. Down the 
 valley to the left the land was also free of forests. Here lay the 
 deserted and ruined towns of Badonviller and Neuviller, the 
 former just within our lines and the latter in the very middle of 
 No Man's Land. The terrain up the valley on our right was very 
 wild and unbroken, and covered with dense forests and under- 
 growth s. 
 
 Where this wooded portion began there was a spur of forest 
 which was merely a maze of dead, stark, gray-colored trunks of 
 trees, splintered an4 torn by months of shellfire, stripped naked of 
 foliage, and killed by poisonous gas. An unused road followed 
 the base of the ridge to an abandoned house and mill, ruined, and 
 occupied only by rats and bats. 
 
 Each gun position was provided with dugouts for the men, 
 most of them situated just behind the crest, but two in par- 
 ticular, those of the first platoon, located half-way down the 
 face of the hill, and well camouflaged in the brush. Those dug- 
 outs behind the 'crest were fairly dry and comfortable, but, due 
 to the seepage of water, those on the hillside were scarcely hab- 
 itable. However, the men had to make the best of the matter, 
 and improved them as much as possible. As is usual, the bunks 
 for sleeping were built in tiers, and constructed of boards and 
 wire netting or woven steel wire. To make them more comfort- 
 able they were filled with straw which was damp, dirty and in a 
 musty condition when we arrived. We found that a bed of pine 
 twigs made a much better and sweeter smelling bed. Further- 
 more, and most important of all, the odor of the pine seemed to 
 drive away those pests, the cooties and straw fleas, although to 
 be true it did not eliminate them entirely. 
 
 The company was in charge of Lieutenant Merriman in the 
 absence of the Captain. We also had with us Lieutenants 
 Tilden, Fri and Smith, the first two in charge of the gun platoons 
 and the latter in charge of the train, which was at Indian Village. 
 Company headquarters was established in a small, stone build- 
 ing near the base of the ridge. It was very small, and judging 
 from its facings of glazed tile, had been at one time a wayside 
 chapel. A few days after our arrival Lieutenant Merriman 
 moved his headquarters to the village of Pexonne, where bat- 
 talion headquarters were situated. We suspect that he was 
 forced to do so because of orders from "higher up," as "Merry" 
 
 61 
 
always liked to be right among the men. Lieutenants Tilden 
 and Fri, however, continued to occupy those quarters. 
 
 The kitchen and Headquarter's Platoon Runners' shacks 
 were about fifty yards up the road on the edge of the woods, 
 where the smoke from the fire would disperse itself among the 
 trees. Food was carried to the men in tin buckets by details 
 from each squad. 
 
 62 
 
oNviyti<: 
 
 This weird, dead town — the Deserted City, we named it — 
 lay only a short distance from our positions. In size it was not 
 large, having formerly held probably two thousand five hundred 
 inhabitants, but it was nevertheless a lasting monument to the 
 destructiveness and wanton spirit of the Huns. It was the first 
 scene of wholesale devastation we had seen, — an earthquake 
 could not have wrought more complete ruin ! Not a single 
 building, not a single home had escaped ; those that were not 
 stricken by shellfire or aerial bombs had been deliberately dyna- 
 mited. The interior of the great cathedral had been thoroughly 
 mutilated and the great roof had tumbled into it. Only the 
 high, round, stone tower and the walls remained standing, and 
 even the tower was in constant danger of crashing to earth, as a 
 big shell had carried away a portion of the base. 
 
 It was evident that the people had evacuated the town in a 
 frenzy of haste, snatching only a few necessary articles of food 
 and wearing apparel and small valuables, for every house con- 
 tained nearly complete furnishings, things of great value, such 
 as mahogany tables, chairs, bedsteads, huge mirrors, brass chan- 
 deliers, clothing of every description, books, stoves, tapestries, — 
 in fact, every conceivable household article could be found. A 
 great deal of these things had been hacked, or broken, or carried 
 off, or marred by exposure to the weather. In spite of the fact 
 that the town Avas being shelled intermittently by the Germans, 
 French civilians came there often with wheelbarrows or little 
 carts and took away furniture and clothing in small quantities. 
 It was there for anyone to take who cared to make the effort, 
 and naught but rats and stray cats to protest. The stores, of 
 course, had been long since stripped of any articles of food, but 
 in the several druggists' and chemists' shops there Avere shelves 
 and drawers full of medicines, drugs and chemicals of every 
 description. 
 
 Even on the brightest and most sunny days the town was 
 "spooky," and at night the stoutest heart would flutter appre- 
 hensively at the banging of shutters in the breeze, the flapping 
 
 63 
 
of curtains, the scurry of rats, or the slinking forms of lean and 
 hungry cats skulking in and out among the ruins. It was a com- 
 mon belief that German snipers visited the place nocturnally, 
 and several infantry runners going through with messages assert- 
 ed that they had been shot at. However, this is a matter for 
 debate, — it was easily possible, but not probable. 
 
 Front-Line-"Fromage" 
 
 Rookie Raines was on guard one night at Gun A-1. It was 
 pouring rain and Rookie was very much disgusted. Going back 
 to a bench about five yards to the rear of his gun he saw two 
 men sitting there and unsuspectingly remarked, "I wish to God 
 Tilden had to sit out here for three hours !" The pair on the 
 bench proved to be Lieutenant Tilden and the platoon sergeant. 
 Rookie double-timed back to his gun ! 
 
 According to Corporal Harmon this is what little Bill Eddy 
 wrote to his girl to give her a small idea of the little aggrava- 
 tions a soldier has to endure on the front : 
 
 ''Dearest Girlie : 
 
 'T will now try to write a few lines to you if them German 
 guns will keep their shells off this dugout, but they have been 
 lighting around here all around me and I will tell you they get my 
 goat, but not as much as yesterday, when I was out on No Man's 
 Land gathering flowers to send to you. I am sorry to tell you 
 that after all my trouble and danger some other guy stole them 
 so I will not be able to send them now. Our homes they are 
 dugouts, which are holes so deep that the rats in them have never 
 seen daylight. I'd hate to be found dead in one of them, but a 
 man has to get used to great danger when he is a soldier. And 
 while I'm speaking of rats they are very good friends to us in a 
 way and in a way they ain't, because they keep us awake at 
 night so the Jerries can't get us. I don't want the Jerries to get 
 me, for I have seen some of them and they look mean, but, take 
 it in the other hand, sweetheart, I would like to get some sleep. 
 Last night I went to bed with my shoes on as you see we are 
 not allowed to sleep on the front line without them on, but them 
 rats don't know the arn\y rules and I suppose they thought I had 
 been tanked up on this French wine and forgot to take them off, 
 so they all got busy to remove my shoes for me, but they made a 
 bad mistake and began to chew into my toes. Maybe they 
 thought it was a slab of this here French cheese they was after. 
 But I woke up in time to save the rest of the squad from sore 
 feet and no hob-nail shoes. Now I must stop, sweetness, as I 
 
 64 
 
have to figure out how to stop those rats from eating any more 
 shoes, as the supply sergeant won't give me any more. I guess 
 I will wash my feet. I will write again when I have some more 
 experiences and I got a hunch they will be many and hair-raising, 
 as this is an exciting and dangerous life. 
 
 ''Your soldier, 
 
 "BILL." 
 
 Private Floyd Chandler slips us this one: 
 
 On the night of August 4th it fell on the Third Platoon 
 mule leaders to take the ammunition up to the front. We were 
 *'green," of course, at that stage of the game, and having heard 
 so much we were naturally leery of the Germans. After a long 
 hike we arrived at about midnight, and Lieutenant Roger A. 
 Smith, who was in charge, decided to take a short cut back to 
 Indian Village. It was as dark as pitch in those woods and you 
 couldn't see the cart in front of you. We lost our bearings and 
 were feeling our way along a narrow road when somebody 
 shouted a command we couldn't understand and several dusky 
 forms leaped up and stuck bayonets in Lieutenant Smith's face. 
 We all thought we had wandered over into German territory 
 and, though we had no pistols, made up our minds to fight our 
 way out or die. However' we didn't have to do either one of 
 those things, for they turned out to be French artillery guards. 
 They had gas masks on, but we couldn't understand their jabber- 
 ing, so Lieutenant Smith ordered us to put ours on, too, saying 
 that he supposed they could smell gas better than he could. 
 They made him go down in a dugout and asked him all sorts of 
 questions, none of which he could understand ; so they gave it 
 up as a bad job and let us go on our way. Lieutenant Smith 
 decided to wait until daybreak to find the way back, and it was 
 about 6:30 next morning when we reached Indian Village, a tired 
 and sleepy bunch. 
 
 Corporal Shutt and his dog-robber, Bill Eddy, needed some 
 furniture for their dugout, says Pete Clemons. They fared forth 
 into Badonviller in search of it, and while they were broAvsing 
 through the houses they met a couple of mademoiselles who w^ere 
 salvaging some vegetables in an abandoned garden. The boys 
 fooled around quite a while trying to converse with them, but 
 it was no go. Now Paul Shutt had sworn he would never touch 
 a drop of wine or liquor in France, and so, when the girls oflfered 
 him and Bill some wine out of the jug they had with them he 
 refused, but Bill decided it was too good a chance to pass up and 
 guzzled some down. Shutt says they insisted that he take some, 
 
 65 
 
"so to satisfy them I put the jug to my lips, but didn't drink a 
 drop." It's all right to say so, but durned if we can see how even 
 the tee-totalin' Corporal Shutt could keep from licking his lips ! 
 
 It was raining and extremely dark the night of August 8th. 
 The second platoon, under Lieutenant Fri, had very shaky posi- 
 tions. It would mean disaster to show the faintest gleam of 
 light, so at night they had a hard time. At about 10:00 P. M. 
 the Lieutenant wandered down to one of the gun positions. The 
 password for the night was "Nice." He got within challenging 
 distance and the sturdy guard bawled out "Halt!" in such a 
 wicked tone that he nearly collapsed. To the guard's surprise 
 he started spilling out the password before it was asked, and 
 garbled it, comme ca, "Nice ! Nice ! Niece ! Niece ! — er, Nice ! 
 Nice!" 
 
 Speaking for the gang, Clinton Felkey says that what they 
 would like w^ould be the pleasure of meeting that nice niece of 
 Lieutenant Fri's. 
 
 Del Artis says there is just one real selfish man in the rough- 
 neck mule-leading gang and that man is Private Kanyuh. "He 
 wouldn't steal candy from a baby or rob the dead," says Del, 
 "but he has been known to take another man's gas mask off his 
 face during a gas attack. We were often disturbed in the night 
 at Indian Village by gas alarms. One night we were aroused 
 by the piercing sound of the sirens and, as usual. Kanyuh didn't 
 know where his gas mask was. He became frantic and raved 
 and howled, mumbled and babbled, sighed and moaned, "Where 
 is my mask? Where is my mask? My God, bovs, where is it? 
 Oh, oh, what'll I do! What'll I do!" No one had time to tell 
 him, — we were getting ours on "tout-suite." All of a sudden he 
 let out a whoop of despair and jumped on poor little Bates and 
 tore his mask off. Bates, however, beat him off and got his mask 
 back on. When it was all over and had turned out to be a false 
 alarm, Kanyuh was sore because we laughed at him !" 
 
 Do you remember that we entered the front lines without 
 even a pistol to protect ourselves with? Wonder if they expected 
 us to throw the ammunition in our belts at the Huns? We 
 finally got good old Springfield rifles. Weren't they welcome, 
 though ? 
 
 On the night of August 7th, while everything was peaceful 
 and quiet on the Badonviller front, a shot snapped the stillness 
 
 66 
 
near Gun Position No. 5. The dugout gas guard awakened the 
 gun crew, who hurried to the scene of action armed with bolos, 
 old bayonets and rifles. The gun guards, Clinton Felkey and 
 "Stand to" Roush, told Corporal Cater that they had fired at 
 something moving among the wire entanglements out in front 
 of the gun position. A patrol was formed at once, consisting of 
 Bill Eddy, Dick Dawson, Del Artis, Bill Blakeman and Vic Earl, 
 in charge of Harry Cater. They formed in skirmish line and 
 crawled out among the wire tangles and brush, but could dis- 
 cover no traces of the intruder. By that time Lieutenant Fri 
 was on the job, and all of the men remained on guard until morn- 
 ing, half froze by the chill night air. Daylight showed only a 
 break in the camouflage of the old gun position. 
 
 —ETHAN R. FRY. 
 
 Do you remember that it was plum season when we were 
 at the front and the "boo-coo" plum trees in Badonviller? 
 
 Runner Stewart of Headquarters Platoon was the carrier of 
 the first message from the front to Pexonne. He had to go 
 through Badonviller, both going and coming, without even a bolo 
 to protect himself with. Felt kinda shaky, didn't you, Stew? 
 
 One day Private Seaman was sent by command, 
 To pick blackberries in No Man's Land. 
 That he hated this order we wouldn't doubt, 
 But nevertheless he carried it out. 
 But when he returned, — Ah, me ! Ah, my ! 
 We heard Lieutenant Tilden sigh, 
 ''How comes it, Seaman, that the berries are crushed? 
 Full of leaves and also dust?" 
 Then Seaman beat a safe retreat 
 And answered back, "Revenge is sweet !" 
 
 —CARL MUNSON. 
 
 (!J 
 
Hike from the Front to Clairupt 
 
 August 10 th 
 
 Our first hitch in the front line was over at midnight Friday, 
 August 9th. We were relieved by Company "A" of the .135th 
 Machine Gun Battalion, and at 1 :30 A. M. formed on the dark 
 road behind the ridge. The enemy had been dropping shells 
 into Badonviller at varied intervals throughout the evening, and 
 our officers decided that it would be best to take the road through 
 the forest, as the Germans might have gained information of the 
 relief and be "laying" for us. This cost us considerably more 
 time and effort, as the forest depths we penetrated were dark 
 with a dense blackness that defies description. Our route 
 circled back into the village of Pexonne and thence over the 
 plateau to Neufmaisons and Indian Village. Had it not been 
 for a lack of knowledge of the roads we might have reached 
 Indian Village two hours sooner and saved over six kilometers 
 of marching. It was unnecessary to enter Pexonne ; we should 
 have gone directly through the woods to Neufmaisons. To make 
 matters worse. Lieutenant Merriman, being a long-legged man, 
 led us a furious pace. 
 
 We reached Indian Village at 4:30 A. M. and were met by 
 Lieutenant Fri, who led us over a muddy trail among the shacks 
 to an old animal shelter, where we thankfully flopped down to 
 snatch a little sleep. It seemd that we followed him fully a mile 
 and next day we were surprised to find ourselves within a hundred 
 yards of the entrance to the camp. 
 
 Most of us slept late in spite of our bad-smelling, uncom- 
 fortable billet. After a good cooked meal at noon the company 
 went through the delouser. All our clothing and blankets were 
 put into large tanks under high pressure live steam. Mean- 
 while we enjoyed the luxury of a hot shower bath, our first hot 
 bath since we left Camp Lee. The showers were mere single, 
 thin streams of water, but soldiers cannot be choosers ! In the 
 afternoon we turned in our rifles and the belated issue of "forty- 
 fives" was made, — at that there were not enough to fully equip 
 the company. 
 
 When dusk came we again took the road, and after an easy 
 two-hour hike reached our rest billets at the village of Clairupt, 
 near Bertrichamps. Here we had a plentiful meal with "beau- 
 coup" hot coffee, and then went to bed. 
 
 68 
 
M 6b^JR»Pllf? 
 
 August lOth-August 19th 
 
 Clairupt is a very small village that may be termed a suburb 
 of the larger town of Bertrichamps, only a few hundred yards 
 distant. It is a mere string of houses built along' a single wind- 
 ing street that branches at right angles from the Bertrichamps- 
 Raon-le-Etape road. The buildings are of the usual white- 
 washed stone, red-tile roofed type, and of course our billets were 
 in the lofts. Raon-le-Etape, a large town having many stores 
 and wineshops, is only two kilometers up the main road to the 
 south. Stores and wineshops are the only necessary requisites 
 for a dough-boy's paradise when he has just come from the front. 
 No Q. M. C. or M. P. could appreciate his large cities more. 
 
 Our kitchen was set up beneath a large canvas stretched 
 under the wide-spreading branches of an oak that stood at the 
 roadside near the entrance to the village. Company Headquar- 
 ters and the officers' billets were in the house at the corner of 
 the main road. The mules and carts were quartered in the woods 
 at the far end of town. 
 
 The country surrounding Clairupt is unusually beautiful 
 and picturesque. The village nestles close to the rolling foot- 
 hills of a fairly high ridge, which is heavily wooded with pine 
 and evergreen. Between it and the opposite ridge, three miles 
 distant, is a broad verdant valley, well watered by the little 
 Meurthe River. The streams termed rivers in France would be 
 called creeks in America. Almost the entire valley is devoted 
 to lush, damp pastures, which are criss-crossed by little ditches 
 of clear running water. The Raon road, a broad, crushed stone 
 highway, bordered by tall poplars, huge oaks and elms, curves 
 along the eastern side of the valley like a white ribbon through 
 the green. Far off, near the crest of the opposite ridge, is an old 
 fashioned white stone chateau, perched like an ancient castle on 
 the steep mountain side, half-hidden by the tall trees. Further 
 down the valley, barely visible among the western foot-hills, can be 
 seen the tall church spire and bright tile roofs of another town. 
 
 We spent the time we were at Clairupt on ''reserve" at light 
 drilling, — calisthenics, elementary machine gun drill, signal work, 
 
 69 
 
and range work with pistols and guns. The First Platoon, 
 under Lieutenant Tilden, were on detached service at St. Barbe, 
 a small town about seven kilometers from the city of Baccarat. 
 They were detailed to do guard and police duty at the 37th Divi- 
 sion school established there. 
 
 Clairupt Notes and Tales 
 
 On Tuesday, August 13th, we went to the machine gun range 
 where we had both machine gun and pistol practice. Captain Wedow, 
 Sergeant Stimmel, and Sergeant Chapman returned to the company 
 that day. We'll never forget how funny Chappie looked in campaign 
 hat and canvas leggings. 
 
 At last! — We were issued one sack of "Bull" apiece at sup- 
 per, the night we reached Clairupt. 
 
 During the lecture and demonstration of the use of hand 
 grenades, Captain Wedow told us a little story of a raid that the 
 Amexes pulled on the Boche in a certain sector. The British 
 and French had been holding the line at this point for many 
 months, during which time they had, of course, attempted raids 
 on the enemy. These raids never bore fruit as the Germans 
 knew their foe's methods so well that they were always able to 
 frustrate them. When the Americans relieved the French they 
 made a raid the first night they were there. However, instead 
 of going over armed to the teeth with pistols, grenades and trench 
 knives, they carried only flashlights and clubs wrapped at the 
 business-end with barbed wire ! The enemy was so surprised by 
 such tactics that the raid was a great success. 
 
 On Thursday, the 15th, we spent the afternoon in the pas- 
 tures along the Meurthe River, practicing with live offensive 
 and defensive hand grenades. We had a great time — lots of 
 noise ! 
 
 Hear Ye ! Hear Ye ! On Friday, August 16th, the penniless 
 Machine Gun Company drew their first pay in France. Boo- 
 coo-Koo-Koos that night coming in at all hours from Raon-le- 
 Etape ! 
 
 Lieutenant Smith, Sergeant Richner, the meat-hound, and 
 Corporal Vic Norris left for school at Chatillon-sur-Seine on 
 Saturday, August 17th. 
 
 70 
 
Ben Shiffman, who can ''compree" and "parley" like an in- 
 terpreter, got into the back room of a wineshop by mistake and 
 surprised a fair mademoiselle. She exclaimed in French : 
 
 "Oh, M'sieu! You won't hurt me, will you?" 
 
 Ben studied for a moment. 
 
 "No, — not much." 
 
 Remember the infernal straw fleas in those old billets? 
 Most of us carry the marks of their bites to this day. 
 
 One night Vujich woke the Headquarters Platoon billet 
 with a series of wild howls. We thought he had the delirium 
 tremens, but it turned out that a wasp had dropped from the 
 nest above him and tried to crawl into bed with him. 
 
 "Wassup kick me in the neck !" explained Vujich. 
 
 St. Barbe, France, August 18th, 1918. 
 
 On this day and date Privates Benjamin Wilson and 
 Carl Karasek did willfully, wantonly and maliciously appro- 
 priate several cans of jam while they were supposed to be 
 guarding the kitchen. Extra duty ! 
 
 Elva Miller says : "We are all familiar with Reveille, but 
 only the mule-leaders and Two Gun Slim Sylvia know what 
 "Revovo" means. At Clairupt we were too far from the rest of 
 the company to hear the bugle and it fell to the lot of Slim to 
 wake the mule-leaders for stable call. SHm always had plenty 
 of ammunition and he used it freely. He shot the tops out of all 
 our tents blowing that Revolvo Gun, as he called it. If the 
 Skipper heard shots and wondered where they came from maybe 
 this will enlighten him. 
 
 Private John Kanyuh comes across with this one : 
 "This happened on August 16th, when we were at Clairupt. 
 All of us mule-leaders were in our little tents, playing cards. 
 Mechanic Dainus came around and told us he knew where there 
 was a bees' nest, so we all quit playing and thought we would 
 go and try to get some honey. There were Butler, Covert, Ber- 
 lett, Dainus, and myself. 
 
 "Well, I thought I would try and get the honey, so I put on 
 my gas mask, pulled my cap over my ears, wrapped a towel 
 around my neck, and put on a long pair of gloves. The bees 
 
 71 
 
were in the ground and they had a Uttle hole for the door. So 
 one of the fellows gave me a shovel and I started to pound on 
 the ground. I was pounding only a few moments when all the 
 bees started coming out. I did not mind that, but when I got 
 stung a few times I threw the shovel away, pulled off my mask, 
 and took to my heels through the woods, all the rest of the fel- 
 lows tearing along ahead of me. 
 
 '*Then we decided to try it again, and this time Covert put on 
 the mask and pounded with the shovel. All of a sudden all the 
 bees came out and he was stung a dozen times before he knew it. 
 He threw the shovel away and started to run toward us with the 
 bees after him. We beat it and he flopped down on the grass 
 and started rolling and knocking the bees off himself while the 
 rest of us damn near died laughing. But when we got through 
 someone asked us what we were trying to get honey from a yel- 
 low-jackets' nest for, and the whole company laughed at us." 
 
 72 
 
7"5^ ZT 
 
 wm^. 
 
 August I9th-August 29th 
 
 Leaving Clairupt at 3 :00 o'clock in the afternoon, we hiked 
 through Bertrichamps and turned into the mountains over the 
 same route we had taken to the front two weeks before. This 
 time, however, we skirted the right of Indian Village and traveled 
 a newly filled gravel road through the woods. After toiling for 
 a few kilometers over this difficult and hilly road we began to 
 feel the need of a rest, which was apparently not forthcoming. 
 However, one of the mules came to our rescue and eloquently 
 protested by laying down in harness. Then we were given per- 
 mission to fall out and rest. 
 
 When we arrived at Ker-Ar-Vor, the second line of de- 
 fense, immediately behind our previous front line positions, it 
 was 8:30 P. M., — a clear moonlit night. Our positions proved 
 to be miles apart as we were to hold a line approximately six 
 kilometers from flank to flank. Company Headquarters was at 
 Ker-Ar-Vor cantonment. The Third Platoon's positions were 
 back of the village of Pexonne, three kilometers to the left; the 
 Second Platoon's positions extended from the graveyard at Pex- 
 onne to a point directly behind Badonviller; the First Platoon's 
 positions covered a front of three kilometers to the right of 
 Badonviller and also our right flank. This platoon, however, did 
 not get in from St. Barbe until the next day and therefore 
 the relief of only two platoons of Company "B" of the 135th 
 Machine Gun Battalion could be made that night. A Head- 
 quarters Platoon runner was detailed with each platoon to learn 
 the routes from company headquarters to the new positions, to 
 which we were guided by runners of Company "B." By 11:00 
 P. M. the relief of the two platoons was completed, the balance 
 to be made by the First Platoon on the morrow. Ker-Ar-Vor 
 was at the center of the line we were holding. At a point a 
 few hundred yards north of company headquarters there was 
 the junction of three roads. One led toward Badonviller, a sec- 
 ond curved eastward through the woods to the First Platoon 
 positions at the right flank of the sector, the third wound down 
 through the valley to Pexonne, three kilometers to the west. 
 
 73 
 
The Second Platoon positions were strung along before this 
 highway from the junction to the Pexonne graveyard. The 
 Third Platoon positions lay in a semi-circle that crossed the 
 Neufmaisons road about one kilometer behind Pexonne. 
 
 Compared with other sectors of the Western Front the 
 Baccarat sector was very quiet. Activities here were confined 
 to raids and patrols, desultory shelling, and aerial bombing raids. 
 The latter was the Germans' most frequent method of harass- 
 ing, but seldom met with success as there were always allied 
 planes on the alert to give battle. Our principal business in this 
 sector was to hold the line and to learn our trade of fighting. 
 It was of the nature of a school, with the spice of actual warfare 
 to make it interesting. 
 
 While we were at Ker-Ar-Vor we had only two meals a day, 
 as the food had to be carried in buckets to the men at the gun 
 positions over miles of rough trails through the woods. Then 
 when they finally did get it the stufif was always cold, — very 
 pleasant ! 
 
 Did you happen to be around the evening the two Y. M. C. 
 A. girls called on us? Even old Sarge Byram frisked and 
 cavorted ! 
 
 74 
 
Ask the Headquarters runners how pleasant it is to chase 
 out in the middle of a rainy night and carry a lot of mule harness 
 a couple of miles, — about as pleasant as standing guard at a gun 
 position ! 
 
 Tuesday, August 27th, the Skipper informed Sergeant Byram 
 that Headquarters Platoon runners were there for whatever work 
 was to be done around the kitchen. 
 
 . "All right, boys, dig a garbage-hole !" 
 
 Wednesday, the 28th, Vic Norris returned from gas-school 
 and became our senior gas-sniffer. 
 
 "Here, you runners, carry more water for the kitchen !" 
 
 On the Front Line 
 
 August 29th-Septemher 14tJi 
 
 The move from Ker-Ar-Vor to the front line was only a 
 matter of two or three miles of marching and, it being our second 
 trip up, was mere routine. We knew exactly what to expect and 
 nothing out of the ordinary occurred. We were not even sur- 
 prised at the rain that was falling, — it was usually our luck to 
 have bad weather on a move. The First and Second Platoons 
 took up their former positions to the right of Badonviller ; the 
 Third Platoon, under Lieutenant Shultz, occupied flank positions 
 in the woods between Pexonne and the left of Badonviller; 
 Company Headquarters and Headquarters Runners were in Pex- 
 onne. As before, the kitchen was in the woods behind the ridge 
 on which most of the gun positions lay. Cooks Henry Mooren 
 and Luce were with the Headquarters Platoon at Pexonne, cook- 
 ing also for the Third Platoon. 
 
 We were in the front line this time for such an unusual period 
 that it will be possible to record only the "high-spots" of our 
 experiences. A detailed description of Badonviller and the line 
 will be unnecessary, as that has already been dealt with in the 
 account of our first trip "up." 
 
 75 
 
Although to the eye the size of this town was deceiving, 
 making it appear small, it was in reality almost as large as 
 Badonviller. It was situated on the Neufmaisons-Badonviller 
 road, about two kilometers from the front line. All French vil- 
 lages in the Vosges seem to be built along similar lines, and 
 Pexonne was no exception. The houses were of the usual type ; 
 white-washed stone ; and the main portion of the town was built 
 along the principal highway, which wound in a general northerly 
 direction toward Badonviller. There were two other streets of 
 importance; one leading southeast and merging at the edge of 
 the village with the Ker-Ar-Vor road, the other connecting in 
 the southeast with the road to Vacqueville. A single-track rail- 
 road skirted the western side of the town near the ruined pot- 
 teries and ran on toward Badonviller. It had long been out of 
 use and the station had been partially destroyed by shell-fire. In 
 the center of the town on the main street stood the church. Its 
 tower and spire were untouched, but one corner of the building 
 had been struck by a shell and most of the stained windows had 
 been shattered by concussion. Unlike the usual churches in 
 small towns, this one was not surrounded by a graveyard. The 
 Pexonne graveyard lay outside the town on the eastern side, and 
 is of interest to us because one of our gun positions had been 
 there when we were in the Ker-Ar-Vor second line. The gun 
 crew had lived in a corrugated iron shelter that had been built 
 within a corner of the wall. 
 
 Battalion Headquarters was established in a large abandoned 
 stone residence near the northern end of town. Captain Wedow's 
 office and sleeping quarters were in this building. Headquarters 
 Platoon Runners were billeted in one of the old houses near the 
 church, the rear door of which looked out upon the ruined pot- 
 teries which the Germans habitually shelled. In one of the 
 buildings in the central part of the village the Y. M. C. A. had 
 established a canteen, and we wish to say that it was one of the 
 best Y. M. C. A.'s we ever had with us. Our hats are off to the 
 "Y" man of Pexonne. 
 
 There were a few civilians in Pexonne ; old men and women 
 who braved the chance of death by shell-fire to care for the few 
 
 76 
 
little gardens and orchards around the town. Most of the houses 
 were tenantless and partially destroyed. Although there was 
 not nearly so much ''junk" in them as in those at Badonviller, 
 it was a favorite amusement of the Runners to browse around 
 the old structures during spare moments. The old potteries 
 were also a favorite spot. Desultory shelling of the town and 
 potteries only added spice to our little adventures. We had not 
 vet learned to fear shell-fire. 
 
 Who? Who? 
 
 Private Zack was guarding the gun 
 At Badonviller one dark black night. 
 He thought he heard a prowling Hun 
 Approaching his post in search of a fight. 
 
 Roney and Knight and Private 'Tap" 
 Had to their dugout just retired. 
 They wanted to take a little nap 
 And get the rest that they required. 
 
 Private Zack rushed into their den, 
 Roney and "Pap" grabbed forty-fives. 
 "Sergeant," cried Zack, "Gimme ten good men. 
 There's Huns up there and they want our lives !" 
 
 "Lives — Hell — Go back to your guard; 
 The only Huns you've ever seen 
 Were on some picture postal card 
 Or in a Y. M. C. A. magazine!" 
 
 But Zack was scared ; through the door he leapt — 
 Made a bee-line for the big dugout, 
 The one where the rest of the gun crew slept 
 Peacefully snoring. He routed them out. 
 
 They grumbled and grunted, but mounted the path, 
 To run down the Huns that he had heard. 
 For one solid hour they searched in wrath, 
 But all they could find was a great big bird. 
 
 'Twas only an owl up in a tree, 
 
 Whose "Hoo ! Hoo !" had frightened Zack, the guard. 
 
 They cussed him and swore that he would be, 
 
 If again he aroused them, treated hard ! ! 
 
 77 
 
Raus Mit Him! 
 
 (Apologies to Someone.) 
 
 Though the Kaiser's short on rations 
 And his army on the bum, 
 In the final clash of Nations 
 The WURST is yet to come ! 
 
 Runners Rats Waters and Ray Johnson were routed out of 
 their snug bunks early one morning and ordered to make a trip 
 up to the kitchen at the front for rations. Coming back, loaded 
 down with ''eats" for the gang, they stopped in Badonviller to 
 rest. Rats took a chew of tobacco. 
 
 "Johnson," he remarked ; ''this is a Helluva note !" 
 
 "Oui ! Too much like work !" 
 
 So they snooped around until they found an old baby-cart, 
 and went merrily on their way. 
 
 Two Headquarters Runners had to take the password for 
 the night to Lieutenant Shultz of the Third Platoon. It was a 
 ticklish job as the infantry guards had a nasty habit of shooting 
 first and challenging afterward. To safeguard their hides the 
 boys whistled "Over There," "Ohio," "The Infantry" and 
 "America, Here's My Boy." 
 
 "Damn near ran out of tunes before we got there," says one 
 of them, "and my partner started to whistle the 'Wacht am 
 Rhine' by mistake !" 
 
 Pay-day again, Tuesday, September 10th. Oui, Oui! C'est 
 tres bien ! 
 
 Early on the morning of Wednesday, the 11th, our French 
 artillery, which had moved up during the night, put over a 
 forty-minute barrage ; we put over a machine gun barrage, — and 
 the infantry Avent over the top in their first big raid. It\vas the 
 first concentration of artillery fire we had ever heard. The in- 
 fantry penetrated the enemy's third line, but the Germans had 
 fled and only two prisoners were taken. One was mortally 
 wounded and died before he was brought within our lines. They 
 laid him in the first aid station at Pexonne. and all day the place 
 was besieged by American soldiers, curious to see their first 
 dead German. He was a huge, broad-shouldered, deep-chested 
 Prussian Guard, and though we shed no crocodile tears over him, 
 
 78 
 
most of us will admit that we at least felt sorry for the wife and 
 children he had probably left behind him to fight for the autocracy 
 which brought on the world's greatest and bloodiest war. 
 
 On Observation Post 
 
 Perhaps one of the softest and most interesting duties that 
 we had to perform on the Badonviller front was Observation 
 Guard. The man on duty sat on a little bench under an elephant- 
 iron shelter, well camouflaged among the bushes of the steep 
 hillside. Before him was a wonderful and beautiful panorama 
 Glancing to the left he could see the ruined walls, shattered red 
 roofs, and tottering cathedral tower of the Deserted City, Badon- 
 viller. Far beyond, down the valley, a narrow white road wound 
 up a distant hill into the German lines. To the left front, entirely 
 surrounded by No Man's Land, lay the village of Neuviller, the 
 scene of nightly hand-to-hand encounters between Germans and 
 American patrols. Directly across the valley on the opposite 
 ridge was the edge of the woods that marked the German line, 
 and beyond was a series of green ridges, each rising higher 
 behind the other until they faded into the misty horizon. At 
 the foot of the hill on which the observation post was situated, 
 there was a ramshackle old mill and pond, and a narrow road 
 that followed the base of the ridge. Further ahead, the old 
 shell-torn, gas-stricken bit of woods projected into No Man's 
 Land from the forest of the upper valley. No Man's Land itself, 
 was a grassy, rolling basin, cut up by old trenches, barbed wire 
 entanglements, and shell-craters. 
 
 The observation guard's duty was to jot down in a notebook 
 all activities of the enemy that he could see, such as shelling, 
 air activities, machine gun and rifle fire, and movements on the 
 roads of the enemy's rear. PTe noted the time of each occurrence 
 and a report was sent daily to the division intelligence depart- 
 ment. 
 
 On one day in particular, the guard had a great deal to 
 report. Early that morning Lieutenant Tilden had taken the 
 First Platoon guns out into No Man's Land and swept the Ger- 
 man front with concentrated machine gun fire, retiring to the 
 cover of our ridge before daybreak. This was not the first time 
 we had harassed Terry in that manner, but this time we "got his 
 goat," At daybreak he sent up seven observation balloons — 
 sausages — to try to locate us. They were strung out in a long 
 line, a mile or two behind his front. A few of his planes came 
 over and soared back and forth high above No Man's Land until 
 chased back by our anti-aircraft guns or our planes. Now and 
 
 79 
 
then he threw over a few shells, apparently at random, in hope 
 of hitting something. One could hear their shrill whine, see the 
 cloud of smoke and shower of earth as they ploughed into the 
 ground at the base of the ridge, and a second later hear the 
 crashing explosion. They always fell short of our positions and 
 did no damage. About once every half hour a squadron of our 
 planes would cross the lines and one by one the sausages would 
 duck down, while Jerry's anti-aircraft guns got busy, flecking 
 the sky with puffs of black bursting shrapnel, and causing the 
 valley to echo with their dull explosions. But Jerry was patient 
 and persistent, and, no sooner than our planes left his lines, he 
 sent up his balloons again. These tactics continued all day, but, 
 it is safe to say, they availed him nothing. All he had succeeded 
 in doing was to cause our observation guard a great deal of extra 
 work and an unusual amount of "cussing." 
 
 Once upon a midnight dreary, 
 
 I walked post, — weak and weary. 
 
 Came a sound quite queery, leery, 
 
 Stealing over No Man's Land. 
 
 I put my rifle to my shoulder. 
 
 Rested it upon a boulder, 
 
 And, my body growing colder, 
 
 Waited for the wily Hun. 
 
 My teeth a chattering sound were making, 
 
 My nerves were all a-quaking, quaking, 
 
 And my knees together shaking. 
 
 In the darkness and the gloom. 
 
 Then upon my ears came stealing 
 
 The sound that set my heart a-reeling, 
 
 A shrill and ghostly sort of squealing 
 
 Issued from a dugout door. 
 
 'Twas a screech-owl ! — Nothing more ! 
 
 (Apologies to Poe.) 
 
 —JOSEPH HERMAN. 
 
 When our kitchen went into its old place in the woods, Ser- 
 geant Byram found it wasn't such a safe place as he had formerly 
 thought. The kitchen of the company we relieved had been 
 struck by gas and H. E. shells and the surrounding woods torn 
 up considerably. Therefore, this second time up to the front, 
 he wasn't so prone to run around with lighted candles, much to 
 the relief of the cooks. 
 
 80 
 
''Old Dog" Mills seems to have it in for Mule-Leader Lyman 
 Rood. He tells the following tale: On the night of September 
 14th the First Platoon pulled a good hoax on Rood. Rood's 
 squad knew he was coming up that night with his mule and cart 
 to get the gun and equipment, as we were being relieved. They 
 laid a deep plot. Rood being naturally a nervous man, his near- 
 ness to Jerry did not alleviate his feeling any, and he was easy 
 bait. Just as he pulled in near the line someone threw a grenade 
 into a trench near him. Rood seemed petrified for a moment, and 
 then someone sounded the gas-alarm. He came to with a jerk 
 and had his mask on in a jifify, his knees knocking together. At 
 the order ''Remove Mas^s," he hesitated and then took it off. 
 A rat made a racket in a pile of old debris nearby, and Rood 
 whipped out his Gat and began to fire frantically into the brush 
 toward the German lines. Then he swore up and down that he 
 was gassed in the eyes ! No one doubts Rood's courage, but he 
 really was a funny greenhorn his first night in the trenches. 
 
 Bugler Speary says : "One night on the Badonviller front 
 we buglers and the cooks, having- played cards all evening, went 
 to bed about 11 :30. Jerry had been dropping quite a lot of shells 
 into our w^oods that night. Well, about 1 :00 A. M. I was 
 awakened by someone groaning. It was Cook Luther, and he 
 had the dyspepsia, and wanted me to go with him to the first aid 
 station. We got up the road about a hundred yards when all 
 of a sudden Jerry sent over a shell, — then another, and another. 
 
 "Luther took a deep breath and says, 'Let's go back, Speary, 
 I'm better now!' " 
 
 81 
 
We Leave the Front 
 
 September 14f/i 
 
 We bade farewell to the Badonviller front at 9:00 o'clock 
 the evening of Saturday, the 14th. We were relieved by French 
 troops and, after considerable difficulty with them, due to lack 
 of knowledge of their language, saw them well settled in the 
 positions and then formed up on the Pexonne-Neufmaisons road. 
 We were very much surprised when we failed to turn in at Indian 
 Village. Most of us had thought we *were to spend the night 
 there and push on the next day, but such was not the case. Then 
 we drew the conclusion that we would halt at Clairupt, but 
 instead we kept on and entered the great barrier of wild moun- 
 tains, beyond which lay Rambervillers. We passed the cluster 
 of houses near LaChapelle, where we had billeted overnight on 
 our first trip to the front, and then lost all hope. Beyond that 
 point the country for almost twenty kilometers was uninhabited. 
 If we were to sleep that night it must be either in pup-tents in the 
 mountains or in far distant St. Benoit, the first village on the other 
 side of the hills. 
 
 When we entered those rough highlands it was nearly mid- 
 night and we were already approaching exhaustion. A weary 
 march still lay before us. No words can adequately describe a 
 soldier's feelings when every fibre of his being is crying for rest 
 and sleep; when the dead weight of his pack is growing heavier 
 at each step; when his head is whirling because of the strain in 
 keeping to the dark, rough road. It would be folly to attempt 
 such a description. Only a man who has endured it knows what 
 it means, and even he, unless he be a wizard with words, cannot 
 convey it to another who has never known the experience. When 
 we came out of the hills it Avas 6:00 o'clock in the morning, and 
 to our consternation we found that we were not to stop at St. 
 Benoit! Where now? For two hours we dragged and straggled 
 along the winding roads of the valley in such a blind stagger that 
 we scarcely noticed the several towns through which we passed. 
 Even the mules were beginning to fail ; their leaders, themselves 
 worn out, had to literally drag and beat them onward. Our col- 
 umn was frayed and broken, for we Avere now in such condition 
 that only the very strongest could "hang on." No one deliber- 
 ately fell out of ranks. Every man stuck to it to the limit of his 
 ability, but many a man found it impossible to close up the 
 slowly widening space between him and the man ahead. As a 
 consequence, — the platoons half a mile apart, and each platoon 
 stretched out over twice its usual road-space, — the company 
 wound over the roads like a long disjointed caterpillar. 
 
 82 
 
At last came the final halt anjl the Captain gave orders to 
 remove packs and fall out. We were in the village of Housseras, 
 seven kilometers southeast of Rambervillers. It was 9 -.00 o'clock 
 
 before we finally got into our 
 billets and, our forced march of 
 forty-two kilometers over, we 
 flopped down in the straw and 
 feel asleep, too tired even to go 
 to mess. 
 
 Housseras 
 
 As we stayed in Housseras 
 only two days, scarcely long 
 enough for us to recover from 
 the effects of our long march, 
 we found very little there to in- 
 terest us. We were there all 
 day Sunday, September 15th, 
 and until Monday evening. 
 Nor have we any very pleasant 
 memories of the place. It was 
 merely a gangling village, 
 strung out in a rough semi-circle along the high-road to Ramber- 
 villers. The billets were, as usual, in the lofts, and were so dirty 
 and full of straw-fleas that most of us pitched pup-tents in disgust. 
 
 Rambervillers 
 
 September \6th-Septemher ISth 
 
 We left Housseras on the evening of the 16th at about 8;00 
 P. M., and hiked seven kilometers to the city of Rambervillers, 
 where we went directly to the rail-head and pitched pup-tents for 
 the night. Many of us merely spread our blankets in the shelter 
 of a high hedge and slept in the open. 
 
 In the morning we found that the whole regiment was con- 
 centrated in the vicinity in various nooks and corners along the 
 railroad. Of course, rumors of all kinds were afloat. Some said 
 we were going to a rest camp, others insisted that our destina- 
 tion was Italy, but the rumor that was strongest, and seemed 
 most likely to be true, was that we were to hold a portion of the 
 front around Verdun. 
 
 While we were awaiting the arrival of our transportation, all 
 of us who could get away from the clutches of sergeants and 
 officers spent our time wandering about the town. We found it 
 
 83 
 
to be another paradise like Raon-le-Etape, — full of all sorts of 
 stores and wineshops. It was; to us, a large city, we having had 
 access only to ''one-horse" villages for the past two months, with 
 the exception of "Raon." A small stream ran through the center 
 of the town between artificial walls, similar to a canal. Just off 
 the main street along this stream, was a small square or park, 
 enclosed by a low stone wall. Within were shade trees and 
 benches, where both the civilian and military population gathered 
 for a little recreation, much as we do in our city parks at home. 
 This spot was also used as an encampment by both French and 
 American soldiers on their way to and from the front. Around 
 the outskirts of Rambervillers were quite a number of aeroplane 
 sheds or hangars, it being the aviation center for the Baccarat 
 Sector. 
 
 ''Private Seaman," asked the Captain, "why should a soldier 
 be ready to die for his country?" 
 
 "Sure, Captain," he said. "You're quite right. Whv should 
 he?" 
 
 Rambervillers to Tremont 
 
 September ISth-September 19th 
 
 Evidently it had been extremely difficult to procure cars, for 
 when our section finally did arrive many of the men had to ride 
 without shelter on the flat-cars that carried the kitchen, escort 
 wagon, ration-cart, and water-cart. Part of the company was on 
 the section that departed the day before; only Headquarters 
 Platoon, the train, and a portion of another platoon left on this 
 section. 
 
 We pulled out about 4:00 P. M. on the road leading north- 
 west to Gerbeviller. Continuing northwest, having stopped at 
 Blainville while mess was served, we passed through Nancy at 
 9:00 P. M. and turned in a general westerly direction toward 
 Toul. Shortly after midnight it began to rain, and those unfortu- 
 nates on flat-cars took refuge under the wagons, although, indeed, 
 it availed them but little shelter from the driving rain. We had 
 left Toul behind and our route now took us through Commercy, 
 Lerouville, and Bar-le-Duc, to Revigny, a large rail-head. Here 
 we detrained at 5 :30 A. M. It was still raining steadily and the 
 task of unloading was made doubly difiicult. 
 
 Dawn showed us a dreary sight of dripping wagons, horses, 
 mules, men and equipment, muddy roads, and grey hills. The time 
 that passed before we finally formed a column on the road seemed 
 
 84 
 
interminable. We were all soaked and very much disgusted; a 
 situation aggravated by standing around with packs on. To make 
 matters worse, when we did start, each man was ordered to carry 
 along a few sticks of firewood for the kitchen. However, most of 
 that went into the ditches before we had gone a hundred yards, 
 and so did not plague us long. 
 
 After hiking for two hours, we halted along the roadside near 
 a small village. Here we had a breakfast of coffee, cold beans, 
 "monkey-meat," and hardtack, and then continued the march. 
 We were going south and could not understand why we were 
 going away from the front. It appeared that we must be going 
 to rest-camp, although that seemed too good to be true. Evi- 
 dently we were somewhere in the rear of a fairly active sector, 
 for all the towns we passed through were full of Americans and 
 the roads were busy with military traffic. The strange sight of 
 not only one, but many dead horses, along the roadside, told us 
 that we were near a lively front, and inquiry brought the informa- 
 tion that these conditions had prevailed for the past week. We 
 were told that the front was about fifty kilometers to the north 
 and that American troops were being concentrated in great num- 
 bers in this area. It was whispered that we were going away 
 from the front only because all billets in the north were occupied. 
 We were going with many other divisions into a great offensive 
 around Verdun ! 
 
 At about 1 :00 P. M. we reached our destination, the village 
 of Tremont, to which the rest of the company had preceded us. 
 One platoon, we found, was at the nearby town of Robert Es- 
 pagne, on anti-aircraft service. That portion of our company in 
 Tremont was billeted in wooden barracks near the far end of the 
 village. Our kitchen was established in a house, where there had 
 formerly been a French army "cuisine." It was not necessary to 
 use our rolling kitchen, as the great round iron kettles had been 
 left set up and ready for use by our French comrades. 
 
 The rain continued almost without cessation all day and 
 throughout the night ; the billets were leaky and a few of us got 
 wet. This, however, did not prevent us from sleeping well, for we 
 were very tired. When the dawn of September 20th broke over 
 the hills it was misty and damp, but before noon the sun was 
 shining fitfully. Soon afterward the sky cleared completely and 
 the day was warm and pleasant. 
 
 It had been rumored that we were to make a long journey 
 on trucks, and we were told early that day to roll packs and be 
 ready to move at 3 :00 P. M. Sure enough, in the afternoon the 
 trucks began to arrive ; for a couple of hours a constant stream 
 of them went by the billets and formed a train on the high-road 
 
 85 
 
beyond the town. They were driven by Chinese chauffeurs in 
 variegated uniforms of all the Allies. On later acquaintance we 
 found that they could speak a little French. We could not under- 
 stand how they had learned even so little of a language that 
 "stumped" most of us. They were a motley bunch, indeed. It 
 was 6:30 P. M. before the whole infantry battalion and our com- 
 pany had been loaded on the trucks and we had started on our 
 rumbling, bumping journey ; whither, no one knew. 
 
 We had been on our way for two hours and a half when we 
 passed through Bar-le-Duc. The truck-train was extremely slow 
 moving, and many halts had been made. After we left Bar-le- 
 Duc, however, we began to make great speed, for the roads were 
 as wide and smooth as any boulevard, and the night was clear, 
 with a bright moon. Most of the roads in France are wonderful 
 specimens of highway engineering; one wonders how they con- 
 tinue to stand up under the constant battering of military truck- 
 traffic. 
 
 Sixteen to eighteen men were packed into each truck, and for 
 every man there was a blanket roll. Of course it was impossible 
 for more than two or three to lie down; the rest had to sit on the 
 wooden benches which ran the length of each side of the truck, 
 and doze in cramped positions. To add to our discomfort, the 
 weather turned colder and we shivered as the night air rushed 
 past. A truck trip at the best is. a miserable affair! We traveled 
 steadily until 10:30 the next morning, when we unloaded in a 
 desolate rolling bit of country near a small village. It had again 
 begun to rain slightly and we found the field in which we were 
 ordered to pitch pup-tents to be wet and cold. *'C'est la guerre," 
 however, — and we took the matter philosophically. A French- 
 man, in charge o*f the train, told us we were about thirty kilo- 
 meters from the front. That night we moved into billets in the 
 dilapidated old village. Its name still remains unknown to us. 
 
 We spent the next day, Sunday, in welcome rest, as we Avere 
 not to leave until darkness came to shield our movements. Most 
 of us slept late and spent the rest of the morning and the entire 
 afternoon playing cards, shooting crap, or cooking in our mess- 
 pans ; producing various conglomerations that would make the 
 average civilian sick even to look at, but which tasted mighty 
 good to us. Our principal ingredients of these stews were the 
 immortal "Willie" or "Monkey-meat," and canned tomatoes. 
 These were our first hot meals for about forty-eight hours. 
 
 While we were at this place a few men remembered seeing a 
 government commissary at a town about four kilometers back, when 
 we passed through on the trucks. In hope of securing something 
 to eat in the form of canned goods, and also some tobacco or cigar- 
 
 86 
 
ettes, many of us hiked over the hills to this village. To our great 
 surprise and indignation the lieutenant in charge refused to sell to 
 us, even though we explained the situation in full to him, telling him 
 that we wanted the tobacco, especially, very badly. He was ob- 
 durate, and refused to sell us a single thing on the grounds that we 
 were not men of the Third Army Corps. To add to our anger and 
 disappointment it began to rain, and cussing him roundly most of 
 us started back to our quarters. A few, however, whose indigna- 
 tion was exceedingly great, and whose need of tobacco spurred 
 them to another effort, remained behind and held a council. They 
 concluded that the reason they had been recognized as not belonging 
 to organizations quartered in that town, was obviously the fact that 
 they wore gas-masks, helmets, and side-arms. Acting accordingly, 
 they took these things off and left one man to guard them. The 
 ruse worked beautifully, and the Q. M. officer never even batted 
 an eye as they ordered and paid for their purchases. Loaded down 
 with canned goods and tobacco they went on their way rejoicing. 
 
 At 8:00 P. M. the company formed up and started on the night- 
 hike which was to end — we knew not where ! As time slipped by. 
 It grew extremely dark, and threatened rain. The roads were slimy 
 with the accumulation of mud from the past week, and marching was 
 very difficult. We had been on the way about two hours when a 
 heavy rainstorm broke suddenly upon us. Before we could unsling 
 packs and get into our slickers we were soaked. The average army"^ 
 issue slicker leaks like a sieve and is more like a wet blanket than 
 a protection against the weather, so we were in bad shape. The rain 
 continued and the roads became rivers of gray mud. 
 
 It was nearly twelve o'clock when we descended into the deep 
 valley in which lies the badly battered town of Recicourt. The rain 
 had ceased temporarily, and we halted near a watering-trough to 
 fill our canteens. We concluded that we were to be billeted in the 
 village, but were soon disillusioned. The march was again taken 
 up, and passing through the town, we toiled up the opposite steep 
 hills. At a point about two kilometers bevond Recicourt, we halted 
 in a dense woods. We could see the dim outlines of long wooden 
 sheds, apparently stables for animals, among the trees near the road- 
 side. Again It began to rain, this time a steady drizzle. Wq waited 
 for ten or fifteen minutes and then were ordered to find shelter 
 under any of the stables, for stables they proved to be. We found 
 them full of chests and all kinds of debris among which we stumbled 
 around in the gloom until each had found room to lie down. By 
 huddling together in pairs and lying, front to back, on our sides, 
 with our overcoats and slickers to cover us, we managed to snatch 
 a bit of sleep. Then in the morning we were moved to dry dugouts, 
 which we should have had the night before, but did not get until 
 
 87 
 
now for reasons unknown. Our kitchen had not arrived, but one 
 of the cooks undertook to prepare a meal in an old French kitchen 
 and at noon we were given hot coffee, hot ''bully," syrup, and bread. 
 It sure seemed good. 
 
 In the Dug-Outs near Recicourt 
 
 September 2^rd-2^th 
 
 The dugouts which we occupied as reserve troops in the Avo- 
 court Sector were undoubtedly the best we had ever been in. The 
 road to Recicourt ran along the base of a low ridge, and our dug- 
 outs were burrowed into the side of it. They were walled and roofed 
 with "elephant iron," supported by strong timbers, and the ends 
 were boarded up ; the openings toward the road having small hinged 
 doors for entrance and ventilation. The bunks were built in tiers 
 along each side, three pair on a side, making twelve in all. Their 
 frames were of wood and their bottoms of interlocked steel wire. 
 
 During the three days we were there we had ample proof that 
 the place w^as, or would soon be, an active portion of the front. 
 Reference to the map showed that we were about fifteen miles west 
 of Verdun. Every morning and evening we could hear the dull 
 booming of cannon and the whistle of shells. Several times during 
 the nights w^e were aroused by gas alarms. But the feature of 
 greatest note was the steady stream of trucks, wagons, and men 
 that choked the road day and night. The highway was churned 
 into a ribbon of deep mud by the constant pounding it received. 
 Truck-loads of food, equipment, rifle ammunition, artillery ammuni- 
 tion, and all sorts of supplies went by unceasingly. Guns, caissons, 
 and gun carriages drawn by many teams of horses, or by huge 
 lumbering tractors, passed in great number. Of these there were 
 both American and French. France and America were preparing 
 to strike the greatest blow the Hun had ever received and apparently 
 cared little whether or not he knew it, for the possibility of air 
 observations did not decrease their efforts in the least. Of course, 
 they depended upon the great fleets of Allied planes to prevent 
 observation to any great degree. If one of two Hun fliers did pene- 
 trate our lines the anti-aircraft guns went into action, and co- 
 operating with the planes, drove them away, but traffic went on 
 unheedingly. 
 
 Our kitchen finally arrived the day after we got in, and we 
 began to get good meals again. They had had a long tough trip 
 over the busy roads. Most of our spare time was spent in cleaning 
 up our equipment ; getting the guns, tripods, pistols, and ammuni- 
 tion ready for action. The last outgoing mail was accepted for 
 censoring at noon, the 25th. 
 
Late in the afternoon, Wednesday, the 25th, we turned in our 
 blanket rolls and all surplus equipment, retaining only our over- 
 coats, helmets, gas-masks, sidearms, and light packs, containing 
 reserve rations and slickers. After very little delay we fell into 
 column of squads with the mules and carts and started toward the 
 front. The roads were simply teeming with men and vehicles. The 
 great drive was to start at dawn the morrow and the last of the 
 gigantic preparations were being crowded into place. Slowly, very 
 slowly, we forged on. Halts were numerous, due to traffic tangles 
 which had to be untangled. It was about 7 :30 P. M., twilight, when 
 we turned into a by-road that led along a ridge or table-land, 
 heavily wooded with tall trees, most of which had been stripped of 
 their branches by old shellfire and were now overgrown with vines 
 and creepers. We followed the road a short distance and then 
 turned aside and halted among the trees to take advantage of what 
 little cover they afforded. 
 
 The Runners of Headquarters Platoon were taken down toward 
 the front to Major Houts' field headquarters, which had been 
 established in a deep hollow. There ensued a wait of nearly half 
 an hour before the gun-carts began to arrive and discharge their 
 loads of machine-guns, tripods, waterboxes and ammunition boxes. 
 Meanwhile, the last vestige of day-light had gone and the desultory 
 crashing and flashing of nearby artillery, accompanied by the rum- 
 bling of distant guns all along the line, became more apparent. 
 Occasionally an enemy shell whistled overhead or exploded some- 
 where in the dense woods. Then a new and strange noise was 
 heard; a puffing and grinding, rattling and clattering sound. The 
 tanks were coming. Soon they appeared where the road entered 
 the hollow ; funny, clumsy boxes built of steel and mounted on 
 caterpillar tractors, or long, jointed steel belts that clawed at the 
 road as they crept onward. In the turret of each tank was a narrow 
 rectangular port through which peeped the muzzles of one-pounders 
 and machine-guns. They were the new "baby tanks" and did not 
 carry as heavy armament as their bigger brothers. A long stream 
 of them, probably a hundred in all, filed steadily past, panting and 
 grunting as they sidled around the bend in the road and disappeared. 
 
 As the gun platoons arrived the equipment was taken off the 
 carts. In single file, each man with a gun, tripod, or two ammuni- 
 tion boxes, we started toward the front line over a path which 
 wound through the woods, past battery after battery of big guns, 
 and merged itself with a narrow, slippery, rough trail, beset with 
 pitfalls of every description. This trail — it scarcely deserves the 
 name — led in a general northwesterly direction through wild, dense 
 woods, full of tangled undergrowth, vines, and creepers. It was . 
 a veritable jungle; old roots tripped us, vines that ran along the 
 ground entangled our feet, trees felled by shellfire blocked the way, 
 
 89 
 
old barbed wire caught at our clothing and imbedded its barbs in 
 our flesh, thorny bushes scratched our faces and hands, innumerable 
 shell-holes, old and new, caught us unawares in the darkness, 
 causing us to slip on their treacherous rims and slide into their 
 watery bottoms. Due to the recent heavy rains, the path itself was 
 slimy with mud. We had to rest frequently, stopping in sheer 
 exhaustion from the weight of our loads. Finally, after what 
 seemed ages, we emerged into a cleared valley and were ordered 
 by Lieutenant Tilden to lay down our equipment and take a good 
 rest. This little valley was our reserve line and many doughboys 
 were concentrated behind the barren ridge. Beyond, were our first 
 and second lines, and "J^i"i*y-" 
 
 It was now about 11:00 P. M. and having rested ten minutes, 
 chatting among ourselves and heartily cussing the Kaiser, we again 
 shouldered our burden and, in a long line, filed over the crest of the 
 ridge. We were now on a -broad rolling table-land or series of 
 grassy minor ridges. The night was fairly clear and we felt that 
 we must be easily discernible to the enemy. The way was compara- 
 tively clear ; it was necessary only a few times to pass back the 
 warning ''Heads up! Wire!" After having progressed about two 
 kilometers we entered a communicating trench which connected 
 with a board walk, or long low bridge, which crossed a swampy 
 bit of ground. At the end of it was the second line, behind another 
 low fold in the land. Here, again, we found a host of men waiting 
 for the dawn of "the day." The captain met us and we rested for 
 over half an hour, awaiting orders. 
 
 At about twelve o'clock our artillery began to open up from 
 the hills behind. The initial bombardment was on ! Steadily the 
 thundering of the guns grew in intensity — seventy-fives, six-inch, 
 nine-inch, great naval guns, combined in an every increasing roar. 
 The ridges for miles spat livid flame as battery after battery came 
 into action. The sky was lit up with red and orange reflections of 
 light that flickered like sheet lightning. Hundreds, thousands of 
 shells whistled overhead; the seventy-fives with the short wicked 
 hiss of escaping steam, the sixes and nines with a slightly duller, 
 but equally fearsome sound, the huge naval and siege gun shells 
 with a long, slow, throbbing whine, gas shells of every size with 
 their peculiar "wobble." Suddenly the trench howitzers, virtually 
 alongside of us in the second line, began to crash. Showers of 
 sparks burst from their muzzles. The enemy began to return the 
 bombardment and shrapnel and high-explosives burst above and 
 around us. Having reached a high pitch of intensity, the great 
 barrage kept on through the night, never faltering, never weakening. 
 Jerry was sure catching Hell! 
 
 Meanwhile, that part of the infantry which was to form the 
 first wave began to file through communicating trenches to the 
 
 90 
 
front line. Our company waited until they were in their places. 
 A runner came across the board walk from the rear and informed 
 the captain that a ration party coming up with "slum" and coffee 
 was almost exhausted and needed aid. Three runners were sent 
 back to help them. Ten or fiteen minutes later the company took 
 up the equipment and started on the last lap to the front line. The 
 communicating trench which we followed was ankle deep, and in 
 places knee deep with sticky, watery ooze. It was a long, weary 
 struggle before we reached our positions with the first-wave in- 
 fantry. Then we loafed in the deep front line trench, awaiting the 
 zero hour — 5 :30 A. M. During this time we endured a harassing 
 shellfire and witnessed for the first time the actual wounding of 
 comrades in battle. Several infantrymen were stricken before the 
 drive started. At about 4:30 A. M. the ration party arrived with 
 two great cans of "slum" and coffee. The captain himself took 
 charge of the "feeding" and though the stuff was cold after its 
 long'trip, how we did enjoy it! 
 
 91 
 
The zero hour was approaching. At 5 :20 A. M. Major Houts 
 passed the word to prepare to go over. The doughboys gripped 
 their rifles tightly. We machine-gunners looked carefully over the 
 guns, testing their mechanism, and making sure that the tripods 
 were clamped and strapped tightly. The ammunition and water 
 boxes were inspected to make sure that the belts of cartridges were 
 not jammed and that there was plenty of water. The steam hoses 
 and spare parts kits were given the ''once-over." Helmet straps 
 were adjusted, waist-belts given a reassuring little hitch, pack straps 
 fixed comfortably, and leggings fastened securely. 
 
 Meanwhile the great barrage went on with seemingly ever in- 
 creasing volume. We all set our watches to conform with that of 
 the captain. The minutes passed unnoticed ; three men actually 
 snatched a little sleep. We chatted with one another on minor 
 topics, usually far removed from the present situation. We cannot 
 help wondering at the absolute coolness with which we spent those 
 last few minutes before the attack. Perhaps it was merely blissful 
 ignorance ! 
 
 We looked at our watches — 5 :29 ! 
 
 "Well," some private remarked, ''damn near time — gimme a 
 chew." Those men who chewed tobacco took a generous mouthful. 
 
 Suddenly there came a definite change in the sound of our 
 barrage. It settled, rather was augmented and concentrated, into 
 a steady deep-throated roar like that of the Niagara. We knew in- 
 stantly that the moment had come and quivered with the realization. 
 
 "Let's go, boys!" shouted Major Houts in his deep bass voice, 
 which carried above that awful din as it had carried over the drill- 
 fields in old Camp Sheridan. 
 
 92 
 
Up over the parapet we scrambled, boosting and dragging one 
 another to the level of No Man's Land, and as we started forward 
 a great broad flare of red, white, and blue lit up the sky— America 
 was striking! 
 
 Special details had been previously sent out to cut dozens of 
 paths through our barbed wire entanglements. Pouring out through 
 these lanes like a black flood we formed our combat groups and 
 began an orderly movement toward the German lines. We had 
 no sooner begun our advance than the enemy sent up great flares. 
 Myriads of star-shells burned overhead with bluish-white light; 
 rockets burst in showers of little stars ; broad fan-like flares mounted 
 the heavens like the flames from a hundred smelters; green, red, 
 and white signal lights, like the fiery balls of Roman candles, hung 
 in the skv, flickered and went out; long squirming 'V\iterpillars" 
 sailed upward to float high in the air, their little chains of lights 
 burning steadily and then, one by one, disappearing. It was the most 
 magnificent display of fireworks any of us had ever witnessed ; the 
 whole horizon seemed enveloped in a great conflagration, so stupen- 
 dous in its proportions that we were momentarily awed and shaken. 
 
 Our advance continued steadily. Only the shrill whistles could 
 now be depended upon to convey orders above the titanic, churning, 
 shriek and roar of shells. \Vhen the flares were brightest we 
 crouched in the thousands of shellholes, or ''froze" rigidly in our 
 tracks, ^^'e could see the bellying smoke and flying earth in the 
 parish lidit, where our barrae:e was falling. When the light died 
 down we trudged on toward the goal. 
 
 At the time we could only guess at the battle's proportion, but 
 the far distant flashes up and down that long range of hills, and the 
 steady, throbbing rumble of still more distant guns told us that we 
 were initiating one of the greatest oflfensives of the war. The very 
 thought that ^ the Thirty-Seventh had been one of the divisions 
 chosen to ''shock" the line was enough to inspire us, to say nothing 
 of the realization that "the folks at home" tomorrow would be 
 reading of the things we did that day ! 
 
 Thinking these thoughts as we pressed ever onward, we felt 
 a welling up of strange sensations. When a man felt it, his teeth 
 clenched^ involuntarily, his chest rose and fell rapidly, his fists auto- 
 matically closed tightly, and with a very perceptible tremor his 
 muscles' pulled together rigidly. W^e were undergoing that "keying 
 up" without whidi a man could not possibly endure the terrific 
 strain required of him. It must be much the same sensation which 
 causes the tautening ripple of muscles and bristling of hair on a 
 dog's back when he scents danger or a fight. After a short time 
 the keved-up feeling seemed natural and we took no further notice 
 of it. ' 
 
 93 
 
Still another great emotion was born in us as we found time 
 to gaze out over the battle-fields. We saw thousands of helmeted 
 silhouettes bearing bayoneted rifles or the deadly machine guns 
 through barbed wire and shell holes, dragging the little one-pounder 
 guns over the rugged ground, and struggling with heavy ammunition 
 boxes. An armed host, every man going in one direction, with one 
 purpose, and all advancing in relentless systematic order. We were 
 a part of it! Call it egotism if you will, but we felt that great 
 pride of our nationality coursing through our veins. We were 
 Power, and nothing could stop us. We were Americans ! 
 
 But "J^^^y" was not permitting us to come on unhindered. 
 Shrapnel was bursting above us, before us, beside us, behind us. 
 High explosives were falling in a systematic barrage. The air 
 rapidly became reeking with the odor of burnt powder and chem- 
 icals. We occasionally smelled irritating poisonous gas and had to 
 use our masks. 
 
 Now and then one of the dusky forms would stagger, reel, and 
 crumple in a heap ; struck by a flying bit of shrapnel or a shell frag- 
 ment. Again, there would come a blinding flash and a terrific 
 explosion — four or five comrades disappeared. It w^as ugly, sicken- 
 ing, unnerving, but our training and our "keying up" overcame the 
 nausea we could not help but feel. The only effect was a further 
 tightening of the jaws. 
 
 After a while we were ordered to spread out slightly, but we 
 boi»e on. And, as a matter of course, we were learning shell dodg- 
 ing. Observations and reasoning told us that to "flop" was our only 
 salvation. We found that a shell's point of impact could be judged 
 by the sound it made. When they came close we flopped, and 
 flopped flat ! 
 
 And with us always was that never ceasing roar. Can we 
 forget it? The collected thunder of a hundred thousand years 
 seemed to be tumbling around our heads. 
 
 Presently the light of dawn spread slowly over the land and 
 the flares became dimmer and fewer in number. Our artillery, from 
 the hills behind us, laid down a smoke barrage, and into this we 
 plunged. We had now reached the German front line ; rather, the 
 place where it had once been. Groping our way through the gray 
 vapor, we entered a strip of land, every foot of which had been 
 literally pulverized. Everywhere, on every side — nothing but yawn- 
 ins: shell craters, cluttered with broken timbers, twisted bars of 
 steel from dugout roofs, broken rifles, torn German packs, and all 
 sorts of debris. It gave the impression that a gigantic series of 
 dynamite charges had been exploded simultaneously and had turned 
 the whole terrain upside down. Indeed, the barrage that was let 
 loose upon the Germans that night was infinitely worse. Those 
 
 94 
 
remains of the famous HIndenburg Line bore mute witness to 
 the fact. 
 
 While our great smoke screen shielded our advancing combat 
 groups from the enemy, it caused extreme difficulty in the mainte- 
 nance of liaison, the most important part of any army. A certain 
 amount of confusion resulted which was not fully corrected until 
 we had passed out of the screen. For liaison, or communications 
 between units, we were almost entirely dependent upon runners. 
 Especially was this true of units in the first and second waves, of 
 which our company was a part. A runner, sent out with a message, 
 lost sight of his own body of troops before he had gone twenty 
 yards. Unless he was equipped with a compass and knew the exact 
 relation of position of his and other commands, he easily became 
 lost. Even with the knowledge of compass bearings and the rate 
 of advance, regaining his unit was guesswork. As a matter of fact, 
 very few runners had this information and consequently many were 
 lost for hours at a time. Other men, also — often large groups of 
 them — being separated from their outfits by chance shellfire or 
 orders to spread out, wandered helplessly about or attached them- 
 selves to the other advancing units. 
 
 In spite of these very important difficulties the general advance 
 went on, only slightly impeded, each company ''steering" by the 
 compass. Meanwhile, overhead could be heard the buzzing of 
 Allied planes, observing the drive. As yet we could not determine 
 whether or not the German aircraft were giving battle. 
 
 As we swept over Jerry's front line we killed or captured the 
 few men who had been left to hold us up. Their fate depended 
 entirely upon the amount of resistance they ofifered — usually none 
 at all. Having cleaned up the front line, we now entered an equally 
 devastated wilderness of tangled undergrowth, thorn-bushes, barbed 
 wire defences, and dense woods of tall trees. Every step was 
 fraught with a thousand difficulties. A veritable maze of barbed 
 wire extended through the place, strung and criss-crossed from tree 
 to tree, and hidden by the underbrush. We had struck the famous 
 Argonne Forest. 
 
 Up to this point we had encountered only artillery fire. Now, 
 as we sweated and struggled to tear our way through this barrier, 
 the machine gun bullets began to sing around us. Our smoke screen 
 no longer was there to cover us, for we had reached higher ground. 
 We fought a tooth-and-nail fight with even the odds of Nature 
 against us. It is impossible to recount that raging battle in minute 
 detail. We were hammering at dozens of machine-gun nests at a 
 time and as fast as we reduced them, and, scratched and bleeding, 
 plunged through the bushes to further our advance, we found our- 
 selves up against an equal or greater number. We outflanked them, 
 
 95 
 
or took them by frontal attack, aided by one-pounders and machine 
 guns. Daring men sneaked upon them through the brush, and 
 silenced them with hand grenades. We lost lives, but the advance 
 continued. 
 
 Skulking Germans were driven out by the moppers-up, whose 
 business it was to follow the first wave and investigate every nook 
 and cranny of the bushes, trees, old trenches, and dugouts. If any 
 were found who offered resistance they were promptly shot down 
 or bayoneted, or driven from their hiding places with hand grenades. 
 
 Shrapnel and H. E. plagued us at varied intervals — whenever 
 a momentary lull of our artillery permitted the enemy to open up 
 with his. When our guns regained fire superiority the German fire 
 weakened. 
 
 The enemy's second and third lines fell and by noon we had 
 penetrated far into the forest fastnesses in spite of this continued 
 stubborn opposition. The country was ideal for just the type of 
 resistance in which the Germans were adept. Their machine-guns 
 popped away at us from behind every form of cover. In addition 
 to being well camouflaged, most of them were in pillboxes or con- 
 crete emplacements reinforced with steel, which our rifle and 
 machine-gun fire could not penetrate. Snipers, hidden in shell- 
 craters, dugouts, copses, and trees, harassed us incessantly. The 
 land being heaved up in a series of heavily wooded parallel ridges, 
 every valley and clearing was a death-trap. It was gruelling, tough, 
 costly fighting: a sort of Indian warfare such as our forefathers 
 must have known in the forests of the New World. 
 
 It was in conquering this first tract of wilderness that we lost 
 our first man, Herbert Stolte. We had been engaged in reducing 
 a machine-gun nest and, having silenced it, were dismounting our 
 guns and preparing to move forward. Stolte was instantly killed 
 while removing the tripod of his gun. A bullet struck him in the 
 armpit as he was shouldering the burden. As word of his death 
 passed from man to man, horror, and then a mad desire for ven- 
 geance, clutched us. Shortly afterward, Jimmy Wilson got a 
 machine-gun bullet through the neck near the collar bone. We 
 began to "see red". 
 
 In spite of the ever stiffenino- opposition we lunq;e(l from ridge 
 to ridge, and won the way through the first great forest barrier by 
 early afternoon. At the fam.ous ''Crossroads" in the woods we 
 fought an ordinary pitched battle and hurled ourselves upon the 
 Huns until, quivering with losses, their line crumpled and they 
 withdrew to a point before Mountfaucon. 
 
 We had been advancing too swiftly for the artillery supporting 
 us, which was having great difficulty in moving up through the 
 devastated terrain we had won. We therefore were forced to halt 
 
 96 
 
on the very edge of the forest and throw out outposts, or islands 
 of resistance, in the open valley ahead. 
 
 Behind our lines thousands of Engineers were already labor- 
 ing to build temporary roads through the shell stricken land ; using 
 logs, planks, bundles of brush, and all sorts of materials in their 
 construction ; even the stones from the ruined houses in Avocourt 
 were pounded into bits with hammers and carried in little sacks 
 to help provide a foundation. As fast as the new road crept forward, 
 the long line of trucks and wagons moved ahead — they could move 
 no faster than the road itself ! Artillery, however, had to get 
 through no matter what the cost, and sweating horses and cursing 
 men strove to press on through the mire and wreckage. And all the 
 while German shells were wreaking havoc among them. The traffic 
 and conmiunication problems were indeed fraught with danger and 
 almost insurmountable difficulties. 
 
 Up on the line, we busied ourselves consolidating our positions 
 with an eye for counter attacks, and then settled down for the 
 night, each man in his little fox-hole. Sleep, of course, was clearly 
 out of the question, for the Germans shelled the woods constantly. 
 It was possible to snatch a few moments of oblivion now and then, 
 but restful repose could not be had. 
 
 In the morning we received word that the artillery could not 
 give us any support, as they had been unable to move up sufficient 
 guns during the night. In place of that we were to have tanks to 
 help us, but 8:30 A. M. came and none had yet appeared. Orders 
 came to advance without them. Forming in combat columns, we 
 moved out of the covering forest into the cleared valley ahead. The 
 enemy had withdrawn his lines further during the night and we 
 encountered only weak shell-fire. 
 
 On our right front, two kilometers to the northeast, was the 
 famous city of Moimtfaucon. one of the three great objectives of 
 the offensive — Mountfaucon, Cierges, and Sedan. Rising 342 metres 
 above sea-level, it was the dominating height of the Argonne ; more 
 than 30 metres higher than any other eminence between the Meuse 
 and the Argonne on either side of the old battle line. From an 
 observation post on Mountfaucon it is said that the Crown Prince 
 watched the many fruitless assaults upon Verdun in 1916. Even 
 Dead Man's Hill and Hill 304, which figured so prominently in that 
 struggle, were overtopped by it. French army strategists had de- 
 clared unequivocally that the height was impregnable. 
 
 We swiftly advanced over two crests of land which was un- 
 obstructed by trees or brush, but thickly sown with barbed wire. 
 
 On the far side of the second crest, two abandoned 155- 
 millimeter guns were found. They were well supplied with ammuni- 
 
 97 
 
tion which was stored in wicker cases nearby. The doughboys 
 turned one gun around and fired a dozen rounds in the direction 
 of the enemy ; a stunt which caused Jerry to become excited and 
 send over a few planes to discover whence came this unexpected 
 harassing. They were at once assailed by our planes, and driven 
 off after a lively air battle. Near these abandoned guns were several 
 dugouts sheltered by a clump of old apple trees, among them a very 
 snug place which had evidently been used as an artillery command 
 post by the Germans. It was fitted with telephones and signal 
 systems communicating with their old lines around the Crossroads. 
 Our Medical Detachment speedily transformed it into an advanced 
 dressing station. 
 
 We now mounted the third ridge, which was covered by 
 orchards on the near side. The divisions' right flank was now 
 storming Montfaucon. Emerging from the orchards we found our- 
 selves upon a bare, flat crest or plain, and up against an extensive 
 system of trenches and barbed wire entanglements, many of which 
 were twenty yards in width. Beyond lay more such defences. 
 Through these we cut our way with considerable difficulty, harassed 
 by well directed shellfire and spraying shrapnel, and moved on 
 across the open plateau for half a kilometer. Here we were con- 
 fronted by a shallow valley dominated by another rise in the land 
 beyond. Our company was supporting the first wave of infantry, 
 and, following a few yards behind them, we descended the bare slope. 
 
 Suddenly hell broke loose from three sides ; machine guns 
 opened up on us from both flanks and front, whizzbangs exploded 
 amongst us, trench mortars, Minnie Wurfers, ''flying pigs," and 
 big H. E.'s descended upon us with terrifying crashes, and rifle fire 
 augmented the extreme danger of our predicament. 
 
 Everywhere in that little valley our boys were seeking cover, 
 in the shell-holes, behind logs, and knolls, and in the sparse brush. 
 To remain standing meant almost certain death — dozens were almost 
 literally riddled with bullets. To hug the earth was only a shade 
 safer because of the countless falling shells. Men running for 
 cover toppled down in their tracks ; others were stricken where 
 they lay, by flying shrapnel and shell fragments ; many more were 
 blown to bits by direct hits from big shells or killed by concussion. 
 The valley was rapidly becoming a shambles. 
 
 But we had with us a cool leader, Lieutenant John A. Tilden. 
 Under his direction we made a tremendous effort, and with a hun- 
 dred narrow escapes won our way back up the hill. All twelve of 
 our Vickers guns were set up in a row along the bare crest and 
 went instantly into action. Over the heads of our helplessly trapped 
 infantry we directed a sustained, concentrated fire. Twelve guns 
 spat out bullets at the rate of nearly six hundred per minute, and 
 
 98 
 
with marvelous effect. The Germans were driven from their van- 
 tage place and began to flee in disordered retreat over the opposite 
 hill. Our fire cut great swaths among them. We could see them 
 struggling and scrambling to escape, throwing away rifles, helmets, 
 and packs as they went. They were cut down ten or fifteen at a 
 time ; our gunners could plainly see the effect of our fire, and direct 
 it accordingly. 
 
 Four minutes of steady firing cleared the hill of the enemy and 
 silenced his machine guns, this enabling our comrades of the infantry 
 to escape from the valley. It also drew the attention of the enemy 
 artillery to us, and we began to get all their fire — that is ever the 
 fate of machine-gunners. 
 
 Our positions offered no concealment whatsoever and had been 
 used only because of the emergency. In getting the guns into action. 
 Lieutenant Tilden had recklessly exposed himself ; the men had 
 risen to the need with supreme coolness and courage. He now saw 
 that to remain any longer than necessary in this exposed position 
 would mean the annihilation of his entire command. Thrun, 
 Brahler, and Griswold had been killed by whizz-bangs while work- 
 ing heroically to bring more ammunition to the guns. Speary and 
 Barbour had been wounded by machine gun bullets, Walter White 
 and Bartow by shell fragments. 
 
 While engaged in the perilous task of getting the guns out of 
 action and into the cover of a small trench about one hundred yards 
 back, the Lieutenant was caught by a whizz-bang and fell with a 
 mangled leg and arm. At the same instant, Privates Vic Earl and 
 Morgan were wounded. A second later another whizz-bang got 
 Privates Olin Smith and Lloyd Wheeler. Wheeler's arms were 
 torn cruelly by large fragments and hung limply from his shoulders. 
 
 The wounded were dragged into the shallow trench and given 
 first-aid. Private Wheeler and Lieutenant Tilden were in serious 
 condition and volunteers rushed them on makeshift stretchers 
 through the hot shell fire to the dressing station. When they got 
 there, Lieutenant Tilden absolutely refused to let the Medics dress 
 his wounds until they had cared for Wheeler, who was losing blood 
 in profusion and weakening rapidly. 
 
 Meanwhile the withdrawal from the fatal spot had been suc- 
 cessfully completed without further losses. We reorganized our 
 gun squads with what men remained and established machine gun 
 outposts for the protection of the main body of infantry, now dug 
 in among the trees of the old orchard on the rear side of the ridge. 
 
 It was now 3 :00 P. M. and it was decided that we should 
 remain in our present positions until the morrow, when, with the aid 
 of artillery, we could force the strong-point in the valley beyond. 
 
 99 
 
It has not been mentioned in the foregoing account that the 
 French tanks we had expected in the morning finally arrived just 
 as the infantry was escaping from the valley and our machine-guns 
 were being dismounted. Five of them appeared on the flank of our 
 position and started down into the valley. They helped us only by 
 drawing a portion of the enemy fire, and did not get far. All were 
 put out of action, by what were apparently Minnie Wurfers, three 
 minutes after they appeared lumbering within range. 
 
 During the night, things were comparatively quiet, and some 
 of us succeeded in snatching a bit of sleep at odd moments. Rain 
 fell, at various intervals, in little showers twenty or thirty minutes 
 in duration. The earth was already oozing water from the rainy 
 weather of the past few weeks, and the present rain softened the 
 surface into a sticky mud. We were restless, and a bit nervous. 
 Between snoozes we paced the hillside and gazed anxiously at the 
 sky for signs of dawn. In spite of the conditions, however, it will 
 be remembered that we still had the spirit to laugh and joke. 
 
 Shortly after midnight a water-wagon full of coffee arrived in 
 the valley behind us. We went back in detachments to get the 
 precious liquid. While we were slightly disappointed because it 
 was only lukewarm, we nevertheless considered it a great treat. 
 We had subsisted on bully and water for forty-eight hours. 
 
 At last the dawn of the twenty-eighth came ; misty, chill, and 
 wet. Our company was shifted to reserve and a company from the 
 machine-gun battalion took our places in support of a fresh bat- 
 talion of infantry. 
 
 The attacking wave went over, accompanied by a light barrage, 
 and we followed a few hundred yards behind. The strong-point in 
 the valley had been evacuated by the enemy during the night and 
 did not now hold us up. The first wave crossed it. We reserves, 
 however, had no sooner started than the table-land ahead was 
 drenched with shellfire. Apparently it was the intention of the 
 Germans to isolate the first wave and support-line from the main 
 body, and then trap them at some point ahead. Twice we were 
 forced back by the intensity of their fire, but the third attempt suc- 
 ceeded. We spread out across the field and won our way through 
 by short spurts, hugging the earth and taking a chance on escaping 
 direct hits whenever the shells fell thickly. 
 
 Soon we were in sight of the village of Ivoiry. It had been 
 rumored that Montfaucon had fallen before the onslaught of our 
 division right wing the day before. Now we determined that all 
 hell itself shouldn't keep us out of Ivoiry. We saw the first wave 
 surge into the little village and the sounds of pitched battle came 
 from the streets. As reserves we were denied the opportunity to 
 get into the fray, so we had to be content with watching it. 
 
 100 
 
Ivoiry lay in a sort of basin formed by the converging of several 
 valleys. We lay on the heights slightly southeast of it. A narrow 
 white road ran parallel with our positions and dipped down the 
 valley into the village. It had been raining, but now the sun shone 
 fitfully and the water on the grass and trees glistened. The white- 
 washed stone houses gleamed brightly against a back-ground of 
 dense woods. A few shrapnel shells burst in puffs of white smoke 
 which floated lazily in the air, but so close were the combatants in 
 the village that neither side dared shell it for fear of injuring their 
 own men. It began to rain again, and the sky turned leaden gray. 
 
 Suddenly we saw the khaki-line burst from the other side of 
 the town and plunge into the dense woods. Ivoiry was taken. 
 
 We could hear the rattle of machine guns and rifles and see the 
 shrapnel puffs among the trees. More resistance ; and evidently it 
 was stiff. 
 
 Our line moved forward a hundred yards or so to the hillside 
 on the right of Ivoiry. Here we lay for two hours, as the battle 
 for the woods went on. Meanwhile, we were being shelled and 
 sprayed with shrapnel, but we hung on, taking cover in the shell- 
 holes and along the low embankment of a narrow gauge railroad. 
 Part of our company lay in the ditches along the Ivoiry Road. Air 
 battles went on unceasingly and we watched the war overhead with 
 interest, except when the ''Hiss-s-s-s Bang!" of H. E.'s di- 
 verted our attention to our own safety. 
 
 During quiet intervals we managed to eat our noon mess ; a 
 load of bully, hardtack, and syrup had been brought up in spite of 
 the dangerous shellfire, and two carts of coffee had been sneaked 
 into the valley. We risked terrible destruction by massing re- 
 peatedly around these carts to get the coveted stuff. Our officers 
 ordered us to disperse time and again, but we paid little heed. 
 Happily no harm came of the matter, but much might have hap- 
 pened. We record this petty insubordination merely to illustrate 
 the risks men will take when their stomachs prompt them. 
 
 Shortly after noon, we again picked up our equipment and 
 moved forward. The shelling at once tripled its intensity. Without 
 a doubt we were under observation by some means unknown to us. 
 By an almost interminable series of spurts, we gained our imme- 
 diate objective, a bare hillside on the right of the woods beyond 
 Ivoiry. Again we laid down our guns and took cover. 
 
 The constant harassing we were undergoing began to tell on 
 our nerves, which had been in a state of tension for so long that 
 they began to frazzle. The steady rain increased the irritation we 
 felt. We could not fight shell-fire ; just had to take our medicine and 
 hang on. The exhaustion of our reserves of strength by the weight 
 
 101 
 
of our equipment also was apparent. It requires every ounce of 
 guts a man possesses to keep pace with the infantry when he is 
 loaded down with fifty pounds extra weight. 
 
 Afternoon wore on into evening, and evening into night. The 
 driving rain continued with unabated energy, and we felt the chill 
 entering the very marrow of our bones. Borrowing entrenching tools 
 from nearby infantrymen, many of us scooped out holes in the hill- 
 side and tried to shelter ourselves with overcoats and slickers ; others 
 dug in along the ditch of the road at the base of the hill. There was 
 no escape from the elements in these rude devices. The water 
 seeped in through the sides or trickled over the edges of our fox- 
 holes and formed pools and puddles in the bottoms. However, our 
 exhaustion was so complete that we paid no heed, and lying in the 
 water, fell asleep. Occasionally we were awakened by the crashing 
 explosion of "a close one." Rheumatic pains racked our joints and 
 disturbed our slumber. 
 
 We were very fortunate that night, in that no man of our com- 
 pany was killed or wounded ; not a few of the doughboys, dug-in on 
 our flanks, were blasted from their little shelters by chance direct 
 hits. 
 
 Many men found slight cover in the half demolished buildings 
 of Ivoiry. An advanced dressing station had been set up in one of 
 the old houses and we clustered there just for the comfort the dim 
 candlelight gave us. The windows of course had been carefully cov- 
 ered with old blankets or there could have been no light at all per- 
 mitted. Wounded men were being brought in regularly ; found, God 
 knows where, out in the black, wild night. Some of them, poor lads, 
 were in terrible agony, and what with the already overwrought state 
 of our nerves, we could not stand to hear them or see them suffer. 
 We dispersed and took shelter in dark corners of the other houses. 
 
 All night long the shells crashed down among the buildings. 
 The enemy doubtless figured that we would congregate there on such 
 a night. Many men paid with life and limb for the modicum of 
 comfort the place offered. 
 
 Gray dawn, accompanied by the never-ceasing rain, heralded the 
 approach of day; the fourth day of the drive, Sunday, the twenty- 
 ninth. We grouped in twos and threes and shivered from exposure. 
 Many were weak and on the verge of illness. 
 
 We saw Major Houts in conference with a superior officer, a 
 colonel. The two were pacing back and forth along the hillside. We 
 later learned that they were arguing heatedly over the question of 
 whether or not we should advance. The colonel told Major Houts 
 that, despite repeated efforts, his troops had been unable to conquer 
 the Ivoiry woods completely. The place was literally impregnated 
 
 102 
 
with mustard gas and swept continually with shellfire. It could not 
 be taken, he stated, without great artillery preparation, and further- 
 more, he had authentic information that the Germans were about to 
 make a heavy counter-attack. Major Houts replied that his men 
 would attack and go through that woods ; there w^ould be no half- 
 way measure, — they'd go through ! The upshot of the matter was 
 that the colonel ordered the major to fall back and prepare for a 
 counter-attack, asserting that he would take full responsibility. 
 Major Houts reluctantly obeyed. 
 
 The orders to retire came to Captain Wedow a few minutes 
 later. It was nearly 10:00 o'clock. Shouldering our burdens we 
 started down the valley in three single files. We had been ordered 
 to follow the base of the ridge for a few hundred yards and then cut 
 back across the road and over the rear hill. This valley and hill had 
 been constantly under fire during the morning. We entered upon 
 the perilous ground. 
 
 Only a bare hundred yards had been covered when the enemy 
 suddenly poured in a terrific barrage of H. E., gas, and shrapnel upon 
 us. With incredible swiftness it developed into the dreaded box- 
 barrage, by means of which entire units have often been annihilated. 
 We w^ere trapped. There was but one thing to do ; run the gantlet 
 of fire. That mysterious direct observation which had impeded our 
 movements the day before was again upon us. We learned later that 
 an observation post had been in operation at Montf aucon ; a German, 
 concealed in a cellar, watched us by means of a periscope and tele- 
 graphed our movements to the enemy artillery. Although we could 
 not fathom the mystery at the time, we were painfully aware that 
 spmething was wrong. No matter which way we turned the shells 
 followed. 
 
 Their gunners must have indeed been skilled men to have made 
 so many accurate shots ; we were split in three single files with fifty 
 to a hundred yards separating each unit. One six-inch killed 
 Norman MacLean, and wounded McKinley King, George Call, and 
 Arthur Lego severely while they were seeking shelter for an instant 
 in a shell-hole. Another six-inch killed Jack Buch. Then Hine, L. 
 G. Smith, Dunn, McGinnis, Shiffman, and Carney were wounded. 
 Carney was cut up badly and later died of his wounds. We left 
 volunteers to take care of the wounded and carry them to the dress- 
 ing station, and pressed on. Spreading out over a wide area, w^e ran 
 the barrier of exploding shells and moved to shelter back over the 
 hill. All of us who were left had miraculous escapes ; though show^- 
 ered time and again with flying dirt and rock, and sprayed with 
 shrapnel, we came through safely. 
 
 In the corner of an apple orchard we reorganized our depleted 
 command, and took up our assigned positions in support of three 
 batteries of artillery. 
 
 103 
 
Our nerves were now in a state of collapse. Several men were 
 slightly gassed and some were suffering from temporary shell-shock. 
 The expected counter-attack failed to materialize, and it was assert- 
 ed, even by the officers, that we must soon be relieved. Needless to 
 say, we all prayed that it come quickly, but the weary hours passed 
 on and there were no signs of it. We dug in along the roadside in 
 preparation for the night. Meanwhile, the rain continued. 
 
 All night the artillery on the hillside crashed and roared as 
 they harassed the enemy. We were so near the guns that the shock 
 of their explosions rocked the very ground beneath us and seemed 
 to nearly split our eardrums. These were what are known as sacri- 
 fice batteries, placed in emergency virtually on the front lines. 
 
 Monday was raw and cold. There had been no change in orders 
 and we remained in support of the sacrifice-batteries. During the 
 day, dozens of air-battles went on above us, and the roads that 
 formed our lines of communication were shelled heavily. We spent 
 the time improving our fox-holes, watching the squadrons of planes 
 battling overhead, and observing the effect of the shelling. 
 
 The rain ceased for a while and our spirits rose a bit. Various 
 means of passing the time developed. We bet everything from fab- 
 ulous amounts of money to souvenir buttons on the likelihood of 
 certain wagons, — seen now and then going or coming over the ridge 
 behind us, — getting through safely or being blown "to flinders." It 
 is significant that no tobacco or cigarettes were gambled. Remnants 
 of chewing tobacco and a few precious sacks of ''Bull" were discov- 
 ered and we enjoyed them as we never had before. To get all pos- 
 sible out of the limited amount on hand, the grains of tobacco which 
 fell when a cigarette was rolled were caught in the hands or caps 
 and put back into the sack and when the invaluable "pill" had been 
 passed around and smoked down to the size of an ordinary butt, the 
 butt was impaled on a sharpened match-stick and burned to the very 
 end! 
 
 Night came again ; still we hung on. Of relief there were still 
 no signs. Information came, that our division had more than at- 
 tained its objective and that counter-attacks made by the enemy the 
 night before had failed to budge our front line ; Montfaucon, orig- 
 inally in the path of the division on our right, had been taken and 
 held by an encircling movement of our right wing after the enemy 
 had twice successfully ejected the other division from the stronghold. 
 Our extremely rapid advance had put us at the point of a salient; 
 we had taken our final objective, Cierges, and now had only to con- 
 solidate and hold the ground we had gained. This news of our suc- 
 cess heartened us a great deal, and the now fitful showers of rain 
 passed unnoticed, as did all other petty irritations which had been 
 undermining our spirits. 
 
 104 
 
At 1 :00 o'clock the next morning we were relieved. Fresh 
 troops filed past in the darkness as we formed up to move out. We 
 hiked for almost three hours back over the hills, the sounds of battle 
 growing faint in the distance. Finally we came to a valley in which 
 was a group of five or six rolling kitchens. Hundreds of men and 
 many horses, wagons, and carts were concentrated there, among 
 them our machine gun train. Joyfully we laid our heavy guns and 
 equipment on the carts and rushed to the kitchens for something to 
 eat. Hot coffee and an endless supply of bread and syrup were 
 waiting for us. The meal gave us new life. It was too cold to at- 
 tempt to sleep so we stamped our feet and beat our arms to keep out 
 the chill, and joked and chatted cheerfully until after daybreak. 
 
 It was about 9 :00 A. M. when the company was formed and 
 marched back to the crossroads in the forest. Here we rested for 
 two hours and then started on the long rough march back to Reci- 
 court. 
 
 As though it were rejoicing with us, the sun shone quite warmly 
 and our spirits rose still higher. That night we pitched pup-tents 
 with the rest of the regiment on the hills back of Recicourt. Here 
 only the occasional faint booming of the big guns reached our ears. 
 This was the peace and quiet we needed. Our work in the now 
 famous Meuse-Argonne offensive was finished. 
 
 Stories of the Argonne 
 
 In the afternoon of the first day, having advanced two or three 
 miles with nothing but artillery opposition, we suddenly ran into a 
 machine gun barrage. We halted and mounted two guns, and pro- 
 ceeded to give them some of their own medicine. The nest which 
 they occupied was too well protected, however, for us to penetrate, 
 so a one-pounder was brought up. The lieutenant in charge called 
 out the fire order, ''Seven hundred — one shot!" The gunner fired, 
 but the enemy machine guns still popped. "Nine hundred — one 
 shot !" Another shot flew and tore up the brush in the vicinity of 
 the enemy's supposed position. Still the machine gun bullets sang 
 past us. ''Twelve hundred — one shot !" The third shot hissed over 
 and after the explosion their guns ceased firing. "Give 'em the whole 
 damn box !" shouted the lieutenant. A moment later we pressed on. 
 The first machine gun nest had been destroyed. 
 
 —SERGEANT BERNARD J. RONEY. 
 
 When the barrage that started the drive began at midnight Sep- 
 tember 25th, Mess Sergeant Byram, who is a veteran of the war 
 with Spain, was sitting on the tongue of the rolling kitchen. He 
 
 105 
 
listened attentively to the roar of the guns for over ten minutes. 
 Suddenly he looked around, and remarked dryly : 
 
 'Tve heard more shooting in the last ten minutes than I heard 
 during the whole damn Spanish-American war!" 
 
 —PRIVATE J. H. SPEES. 
 
 NOTICE : — Lost in action in the Argonne Forest on or about 
 the 28th day of September — one quill. Finder please return to Pri- 
 vate Wesley J. Bigler. 
 
 When little L. G. Smith was wounded in the leg, and almost 
 unable to walk, he protested against being sent to the hospital. When 
 finally convinced that he must go back he absolutely refused to go 
 on a stretcher, but hobbled back by himself so that the few stretchers 
 available might be used for the others. 
 
 Bug Speary was rarin' to go on the morning of the second day. 
 He picked up a Hun rifle and boo-coo ammunition, turned around, 
 and cried, ''Hey, Rulie, betcha I get a Jerry now!" But shortly 
 after the advance began a machine gun bullet got him in the pistol- 
 pocket district and he was out of luck for his Hun. 
 
 —BUG RUEL. 
 
 On the third day of the drive, while Bemwinkler and I were 
 digging a fox-hole with a bayonet and a mess-kit lid, an American 
 plane circled once or twice over the field we were in. At that moment 
 a couple of Jerry cannon barked and a couple of shells whizzed over 
 and landed about twenty feet from us. They were duds. Lieuten- 
 ant Shultz came running back and asked if w-e saw where that mes- 
 sage dropped ! He thought the plane had dropped a message for us ! 
 
 —MATT MANNING. 
 
 The most trying and tiresome seven hours I have ever put in 
 were early in the morning of September 26th. That morning at 
 12:15 Lieutenant Merriman picked out Privates Butler, Lasher, 
 Rood, Stewart, and myself, with Private Ed. Munson as guide, to 
 carry coffee and slump to the trenches for our boys before they 
 went over the top. It was the first time over the top in a big drive 
 and it may be imagined how we felt. It worked on our nerves as 
 well as muscles, carrying that mess, because it was, I really believe, 
 about four miles one way. 
 
 One can of coffee and one of slum carried that distance without 
 much relief blistered our shoulders after a time. The cans were 
 
 106 
 
swung on long poles and the poles were rested on our shoulders. 
 We simply had to get there before 5 :00 A. M. so that the boys would 
 have time to eat before dawn. It was very dark most of the way, 
 as we had to go through a woods and follow a path that in lots of 
 places was so slippery that we could hardly stand up. Sometimes 
 we did slip and go down. We were told by our guide that it was 
 only a mile, when we started. I saw afterward that he said that 
 just to encourage us. The last half-mile was made in trench-mud 
 almost up to our knees. The Captain met us with a detail to help 
 out, and led us up this network of trenches to the company. We 
 waited while they gobbled their mess and then, somewhat rested, 
 started back again. It was daylight the most of the way back 
 and the artillery barrage was hitting it up harder than ever. All the 
 way through the woods many big guns were lined up, all lifting steel 
 over into Jerry's lines. That was music to us, though it deafened 
 us and shook the ground beneath our feet. Walking along amongst 
 that shooting artillery was a strange sensation; a fellow half ex- 
 pected to get his hat or his head blown off. 
 
 When we finally got back we snatched a bit to eat and then 
 hitched up the mules and started to follow up the company with 
 ammunition. 
 
 — PVT. RAYMOND L. COVERT. 
 
 We all know how hungry a man gets on the battle-field, but if 
 you want to know just how hungry a government mule gets, ask 
 Private Shaps. Shaps placed his pack on a mule-leader cart as we 
 were leaving the Argonne. The mule was tied to the cart, sans oats 
 or hay, when we halted for the night. Next morning Shaps woke 
 minus a shelter-half, raincoat, two clean suits of underwear, and 
 German souvenirs too numerous to mention. The mule had eaten 
 them in addition to the padding out of his harness and half a cart- 
 shaft. Being a man of God, Shaps didn't swear, but the look he 
 gave the mule showed more cuss-words than the whole mule-leading 
 gang's vocabulary boasts. 
 
 On the second day of the drive, part of our company was 
 trapped in an old artillery emplacement. Jerry was putting a ma- 
 chine gim barrage over this place so wc had little chance of getting 
 out. The infantry was dragging wounded into this shelter by the 
 dozen, many of them being wounded themselves while getting their 
 fallen comrades to a place of temporary safety. We helped them as 
 much as possible. There were men there with wounds in the head, 
 shoulders, and legs ; all awful sight. One of our sergeants came 
 crawling in with the report that German tanks were surrounding us. 
 There were only forty of us. What chance did we have with tanks? 
 
 107 
 
We just decided to fight until the last man was killed. We made 
 preparations, and then, while we were waiting there with tense 
 nerves, a runner came in with the glad news that the tanks were 
 French ! 
 
 — PVT. DONALD L. BAXTER. 
 
 Lieutenant Tilden was a charter member of the company. It 
 was the morning of the twenty-seventh, just after we had fired our 
 barrage and swept the valley clear of Huns, when Tillie got hit. 
 Most of us had taken cover in a shallow trench nearby, when the 
 enemy artillery started shelling us. Tilden saw something to do and 
 paid no heed to the whiz-bangs. Next, I heard my name called and 
 looked over the parapet to find Slim Walters, from Akron, trying 
 to get the lieutenant into the trench. It was too much for one man 
 so I assisted him. After that I dressed the lieutenant's leg and arm 
 as best I could. My tin hat cut his upper lip when I ducked a close 
 one. The shelling lasted until we had got him started to the rear. 
 Tilden was game. 
 
 — SGT. HARRY D. CATER. 
 
 I would like to say a few words about the wonderful nerve 
 which Lieutenant Tilden showed in the Argonne drive. With one 
 arm broken and leg almost severed by shell fragments, he was 
 dragged into the muddy trench with us. The first thing he said was, 
 "I am not a very good warrior, I guess." He directed us in giving 
 him first aid, telling the Red Cross man to lift his leg up as it 
 bothered him ! Then he asked for a cigarette and he smoked as they 
 carried him away. 
 
 —PVT. HAROLD RAINES. 
 
 Jerry, Private Lewis Siedler's mule, deserves a wound stripe. 
 One of the other mules mistook his tail for army-issue hay. Thus 
 the ''tail" ends. 
 
 Jimmy Wilson was wounded by a machine gun bullet while 
 trying to get a message from the Second Platoon through a heavy 
 machine gun barrage. Atta boy, Jim! Glad to see you're back 
 as^ain. 
 
 Sergeant Richner located a sniper hiding in a tree on the first 
 morning out. He pointed him out to some riflemen and the sniper 
 was ''Fineesh — Toot-sweet!" Richner is sure some snipe-hunter! 
 
 108 
 
Says Private Pearson, "J^st imagine yourself with a pack on 
 your back and carrying a machine gun tripod which weighs about 
 fifty-six pounds through a swamp in mud over your shoe-tops. Well, 
 that is what we had to do, and believe me it was Hell ! But it had 
 to be done ; damn the Kaiser, anyhow !" 
 
 ''Before we went over the top," says the well known aforesaid 
 Private Pearson, "I sure did think of home and mother, and the 
 girl I left behind me. And I wasn't the only one !" 
 
 Guess you're right. Rap! 
 
 At one time on the first day out the enemy snipers had been 
 very busy picking off men on all sides. Suddenly two Dutchmen 
 crashed through the bushes accompanied by a doughboy, who was 
 encouraging them to move on by pricking them in the seat of the 
 pants with his bayonet. He was stopped by the Major, who had an 
 interpreter converse with them. They answered in monosyllables. 
 Suddenly the machine gun bullets began to sing around us and we 
 took cover in the shell-holes, — with the exception of Hans and 
 Fritz. They were compelled to stand erect and ordered to talk fast 
 and quick. They did ! And every time one of them began to bend 
 his knees to crouch, in fear of the bullets, the doughboy helped him 
 up with the bayonet. The Major got his information and soon we 
 knocked out the enemy machine gun nest. 
 
 — SGT. BERNARD T- RONEY. 
 
 Again Private Pearson comes to bat with this, " and the ma- 
 chine gun bullets was just as thick as fleas on a dog's back!" 
 
 Lieutenant Fri is a gruesome guy! He lined up his platoon 
 before they started for the front and asked them if they all had 
 their dog-tags ! 
 
 Never mind, Shaps, you weren't the only one that suffered loss 
 on account of a mule. The company council book was eaten by a 
 hungry mule at Recicourt, after we came out of the drive. And 
 they talk about the digestive ability of an ostrich ! 
 
 The last two men in the company to leave the Argonne were 
 Coleman and Johnson. The Skipper detailed them to meet the 
 train and inform Lieutenant Smith that the company had gone on 
 to Recicourt. He also instructed them to go at once to Headquarters 
 
 109 
 
Company with the information that we were ready to move out. 
 They were gone on this errand five minutes, during which time 
 Lieutenant Smith and his outfit slipped by the Crossroads. The two 
 waited at the Crossroads for eighteen hours, cussing everything from 
 the army to the Kaiser. Finally they gave it up as a bad job and 
 found a stimulus to further cussing when they reached Recicourt 
 and discovered how they had been fooled. 
 
 Perhaps only a soldier who has drunk his cup of blood and fire 
 to the dregs knows that strange mingling of emotions packed into 
 that little word "relieved." 
 
 — From The Great Amulet, by Maud Diver. 
 
 It was near the Crossroads that the following occurred. Colonel 
 Stansbury was pacing up and down the road near his headquarters. 
 A signal corps man was in the woods nearby searching for a break 
 
 in the telephone line. He flashed 
 his pocket light to inspect a certain 
 wire. 
 
 'Tut out that light!" 
 
 The light went out, but reap- 
 peared a moment later in another 
 spot. 
 
 "Put out that light !" 
 
 Again it disappeared and then 
 showed again. 
 
 "Put out that light, damn it! 
 Do you hear me?" 
 
 The signal corps man thought 
 he'd have a little fun. 
 
 "Why, Colonel, that ain't a 
 
 VVHEN 
 THE FlR^T 
 
 SflUtR-KRRUT 
 
 A^^^^ 
 
 light — that's only the moon !" 
 
 "I don't give a damn what it is ! 
 
 Put it out !' 
 
 An idea of the stupendous troop movements necessary to pre- 
 pare for a drive like the Meuse-Argonne may be gained from the 
 fact that 800,000 men passed in and out of that portion of the front 
 between the second and twenty-fifth of September, to say nothing 
 of the vast volume of supplies necessary to maintain them. All 
 troops were moved at night. Other traffic went on both day and 
 night. Fifteen French divisions were relieved by twelve Ameri- 
 can divisions. 
 
 Sergeant Stimmel, Private Raines, Private Frank, and Private 
 Bigler were gassed slightly. 
 
 110 
 
From the Argonne to the Pannes Sector 
 
 October j^d-October 8th 
 
 We remained encamped on the Recicourt hills for only thirty- 
 six hours, during which time our extra equipment, which had been 
 turned in at the dugouts, prior to our entrance into the drive, was 
 returned to us. Unfortunately, a great deal of confusion attended 
 the distribution of these blanket rolls, and many never reached their 
 owners ; as a result, such things as toilet articles, souvenirs, small 
 valuables, clothing, and blankets were lost. A great pile of un- 
 claimed property quickly accumulated which, it is sad to say, was 
 ruthlessly looted by men who took advantage of the opportunity 
 for gain and got away with the goods before the rightful owner 
 came along. No great effort was made by those in authority to 
 straighten the matter out. The unfortunates had to swallow the 
 affair as an object lesson, — we had been ordered to leave such 
 things as toilet kits and trinkets behind ; in the next drive we would 
 know better than to obey that order ! 
 
 Because of the possibility of attack by roaming enemy planes, 
 we moved to old French barracks in the nearby village of Brabant. 
 The change wasn't altogether pleasing to us, for pup-tents were 
 infinitely preferable to the uncomfortable laced-wire bunks and 
 filthy barracks ; besides, we objected on general principles to un- 
 necessary movements, and the possibility of air-raids was certainly 
 remote. It is true that we, ourselves, were as filthy as the old bar- 
 racks, — as yet, we had had no opportunity to clean up ; our clothing 
 was tattered and dirty, our shoes stiff with water and mud. and our 
 bodies covered with dried sweat and vermin, — but even filthv sol- 
 diers like a clean abode. 
 
 We were not in the barracks very long, and the little time of 
 leisure was given up entirely to rest ; we were "played out" in 
 every sense of the phrase, — hardly a man had escaped the contrac- 
 tion of that disagreeable malady, trench rheumatism ; every one of 
 us had caught colds, and many whose stomachs had proved unequal 
 to the strain were suffering with dysentery. However, above our 
 multitudinous troubles, rose that spirit which had won fame for 
 our division and earned us the coveted sobriquet "Spear-Heads" or 
 shock troops ; the spirit that laughs at any obstacle ; the spirit of the 
 true soldier ; the spirit that wins battles. 
 
 Nati^ rally, the question now uppermost in our minds was 
 "^^'here do we go from here?" It was rumored that we were to 
 rest five days and re-enter the fight, that we were going directlv to 
 a quiet sector, and that our destination was a division rest-camp. 
 Wild conjectures that we were going- either to Russia or into a 
 coming great offensive in the Alps passed among us. 
 
 Ill 
 
At about 3 :(X) P. M. October 3rd, we received orders to pre- 
 pare at once to move out on trucks. One rumor died a sudden 
 death ; we were not going back into the Argonne. With alacrity 
 we rolled packs and cleaned up our quarters. A considerable amoimt 
 of bully -beef and French army hard-tack was on hand at the 
 kitchen and we were invited to help ourselves. Very little bully 
 was taken, but we filled our pockets with the hard-tack which we 
 liked exceedingly well, as it gave us something to gnaw at on hikes 
 or long journeys. It is surprising how a nibble of hard-tack, now 
 and then, will lighten the longest march or weary ride. 
 
 We marched to the trucks, which lay in a long train on the 
 road a kilometer distant, stopping at an emergency ration dump 
 long enough to pick up our traveling rations. It was now about 
 4:00 o'clock and becoming dusky; night came before we had been 
 on our way half an hour. Of this, our second truck-trip, nothing 
 much can be said which would not be repetition ; w^e were so very 
 much worn out that we paid little heed to passing scenery or our 
 direction. We traveled at great speed throughout the night and 
 were still rumbling along at daybreak. When we came to Bar-le- 
 Duc it became evident that we had been going south from Reci- 
 court. At Bar-le-Duc we turned east, and shortly thereafter, at 
 about 8:00 A. M., halted and debouched into a woods near the 
 town of Void. 
 
 We were told that we might take it easy and get all the rest 
 we could as we were to remain in the woods all day. Our kitchen 
 had been loaded on one of the trucks, but inquiry disclosed the 
 fact that the truck which bore it had broken down during the 
 night, and had been left behind. We were out of luck and had to 
 make the best of it. 
 
 Building brushwood fires, we cooked the remainder of our 
 travel rations. Those who were so lucky as to have coflfee and 
 sugar in their condiment-cans made coflfee and soaked the salvaged 
 French hardtack in it. This business of cooking our own meals 
 and scraping up all manner of food from the countryside was be- 
 comins: a matter of course. 
 
 The weather was damp and chilly, with occasional drizzles of 
 rain. We felt rather dispirited and either hugged the little brush- 
 wood fires, conversing in short sentences and monosyllables, or 
 rolled ourselves in overcoats and slickers and slept the rest of the 
 day. 
 
 When darkness came we again took the road, — on foot. Our 
 march was fifteen kilometers in length, beginning at Void and ending 
 at Vignot, a small town one kilometer from Commercy. We were 
 now in the vicinity of Toul, a portion of France which is particularly 
 
 112 
 
mountainous. In our condition, such a march under full pack was 
 an exquisite torture. To cap the climax, we had the devil's own time 
 getting billets. It was very late, nearly midnight, and no doubt the 
 inhabitants whom we aroused were peeved when their rest was dis- 
 turbed. Anyhow, they were snappish, discourteous, and extremely 
 slow in opening the doors to their barns and stables. One old 
 woman, in particular, argued and haggled stubbornly over the num- 
 ber of men she was to have for her billet. There were only ten 
 men of the company left unbilleted and she demanded forty, refus- 
 ing entrance to a lesser number. We finally wheedled her into 
 complying with our washes by a fictitious promise to bring thirty 
 more men on the morrow, and at last got under cover. Here let us 
 insert an extract from the personal diary of one of the men who was 
 
 in the aforementioned billet : '' then there was a damned old 
 
 sheep below us that kept us awake half the nis^ht with its infernal 
 Baa! Baa!— What ahfe!" 
 
 Next day, being without our kitchen and without rations, we 
 rushed to the stores of the town and bought such articles as canned 
 peas, beans, tomatoes, peaches, jam, cheese, potted meat, and 
 bouillon cubes. The cost of these things was enormous, but we 
 had to eat, so we did not take account of that. When it is consid- 
 ered that a pint can of peas or beans costs seven francs, — about a 
 dollar and a quarter, — it is easily understood why a soldier's francs 
 do not go very far. 
 
 That night, to our surprise and indignation, we were ordered 
 to roll packs and get ready to move on again. A number of the 
 men were so sick and weak that they had to be left behind, with in- 
 structions to go to the infirmary. The most pious of us cursed the 
 army fluently during that march. It was another gruelling fifteen 
 kilometers, which ended at the village of Juoy, where we billeted. 
 
 W^hen we roused ourselves the next morning we found that 
 there was still no sign of our kitchen, consequently we got no break- 
 fast. At noon we received some vile cofifee and slum which some 
 of the cooks had managed to prepare for us in a pair of rusty old 
 kettles. We did not kick, however, for we knew that they were 
 doing their level best and were handicapped by lack of rations. 
 
 Again that night we hit the road. Would it never end? We 
 had hiked only two kilometers when a motorcycle messenger over- 
 took us, and we at once turned back and re-entered Juoy. Everyone 
 was bewildered and angry. "What in Hell's name are they going 
 to do! Hike us all over France?" asked one disgruntled sergeant. 
 It was evident that we were the victims of an error of some sort, 
 made by those "higher up." At Juoy we found things in an uproar. 
 We had no orders and were instructed to fall out and remain near 
 at hand. Upon mingling with other companies we received the 
 
 113 
 
startling information that the Central Powers were asking for an 
 armistice and that it was to be granted. The news had been posted 
 upon the bulletin board at regimental headquarters. It was rumored 
 that all troop movements would cease, and therefore we had been 
 called back. It sounded good, seemed authentic, and we wanted to 
 believe it was true. 
 
 Coming as we had, directly from the great drive, the news 
 caused that indefinable clutching of the heart-strings that is so sweet 
 and yet so painful. Could it really be true? We permitted our- 
 selves to be swayed, and peeped through the curtain we had delib- 
 erately hung between us and the future. Heretofore we had 
 schooled ourselves to shut from our minds all thoughts and plans 
 for ''after the war." The prospect revealed to us, assuming that 
 the great news was true, set our brains reeling with joy. Our 
 hearts throbbed against our breasts and our throats felt full with 
 the delirium of unexpected happiness. But reason again asserted 
 itself and we gradually cooled off and began to consider the matter 
 with an undercurrent of suspicion. Suddenly orders came to fall 
 in, and soon we were marching in the opposite direction out of Juoy. 
 Harsh laughter echoed up and down the ranks and then, relapsing 
 into numb silence, we plodded wearily onward. 
 
 Twelve kilometers in addition to the other four which we had 
 hiked uselessly earlier in the evening, were more than enough to 
 break our powers of endurance. Sergeant White, Sergeant Freiter, 
 Private Donahue, and Private Manning felt so sick and weak that 
 they had to be left behind. Sergeant White, by the way. never re- 
 turned to the company. W^e have heard that he attached himself to 
 another outfit, in what division, we do not know. That sure sign of 
 sapped resources, the stretching of the company to twice its ordi- 
 nary length, had appeared. We reached our destination, the town 
 of Boucq, just in time to prevent the loss of more men. We were 
 supposed to meet two companies of the machine gun battalion that 
 night and leave on the tram railroad which led out of the place. 
 Trouble seemed to be coming in bunches ; the two companies failed 
 to show up. 
 
 After waiting in the darkness for several hours, our officers, 
 Captain Wedow and Lieutenant Merriman being the only ones with 
 us, hunted around town until they found shelter for us from the 
 rain and cold. The strain of the past two weeks w^as terrible. Due 
 to a mixup of some sort the Skipper and Merry were absolutely at 
 sea, and with a bunch of men on their hands who were foot-sore, 
 underfed, in low spirits, and on the verge of serious illness. The 
 writer knows personally, as do several other men in the company, 
 that the Captain and the Lieutenant took turns standing guard, 
 while awaiting the other companies, so that every man could snatch 
 
 114 
 
some sleep. Their self-imposed duty lasted until the next morning. 
 1 hen coffee was procured from some unknown source and Humpy 
 Turner and a few others made a bucketful of good hot coffee. 
 
 Meanwhile the famished company fell upon the vineyards 
 round about and gorged themselves with half-ripe grapes. It was a 
 rotten state of affairs to be sure. Some relief from our filthy condi- 
 tion was unexpectedly given us when it was found that there was a 
 bath house m the town. We collected wood and had a hot bath in 
 the afternoon; the first hot bath since that at Indian Village in 
 Alsace-Lorraine, two months before. ' 
 
 ^ That night (it was now October 7th) the other companies ar- 
 rived and we all boarded the waiting tram-train. It was raining 
 steadily and we were thoroughly soaked by the time our four hour 
 ride on these little flat cars had come to an end. We detrained at 
 Lssey, a town captured from the enemy in the St. Mihiel Drive 
 and consequently in bad shape. This town lay only four or five 
 kilometers from the front and was under shell-fire at times. 
 
 There were no civilians in Essey with the exception of two 
 balvation Army girls who operated a canteen. It was one of the 
 best canteens we have ever struck; they were extremely accommo- 
 dating and good to us, and had a large supply of real good old 
 American hard candy on sale at a very low price. Few of us will 
 forget those delicious clove-drops, "Iceland Moss" drops, lemon 
 drops, hme drops, and striped peppermint sticks! It reminded a 
 lellow of Christmas at home. 
 
 We were billeted in an abandoned dwelling on the outskirts of 
 the town the rear end of which had been shattered by shellfire 
 During the following day we rested and cooked what rations we 
 could secure. We could hear the occasional rumble of artillery and 
 the explosion of shells along the front. Just before nightfall we 
 were suddenly aroused by the shrill whine of a big shell. It landed 
 somewhere m the town, several more following shortly afterward 
 I he shelling ceased as suddenly as it began, but this served to remind 
 us that we were again up against Jerry. 
 
 After darkness had come, we were taken in trucks to the vicin- 
 ity of Bouillonville, about four kilometers distant, where our posi- 
 tions lay. We were to be in reserve. It was not raining, but the 
 night was black and the clouds hung low, a condition much in our 
 favor. ^ Upon leaving the trucks we marched over a muddy by-road 
 down into a deep-cut gulley or gulch. Near the end of this narrow 
 dehle we came to a row of wooden shacks which had been built by 
 the Germans and were now occupied by our troops. Headquarters 
 Flatoon was dropped off to billet in one of them ; the rest of the 
 
 115 
 
company went on to the end of the gulley, which opened into a 
 broad, deep valley. After descending a flight of rude stairs they 
 reached their billets, similar little shacks built on the hillside. 
 
 We found these little buildings to be very comfortable indeed. 
 Jerry had left stoves and all behind, and the troops we relieved had 
 in most cases kept their fires going until we arrived. To have at 
 last reached a haven of real rest in comfortable bunks seemed too 
 good to be true. 
 
 116 
 
October 8th-Octoher idtJi 
 
 The Pannes Sector, as it is officially named, is better known to 
 us and the public as the St. Mihiel Sector. In the famous St. 
 Mihiel Drive, which began September 12th, the Americans drove 
 the Germans with incredible swiftness out of the salient that had 
 been a thorn in the side of the Allies for a long time. We were 
 now in the portion of that sector known as the Thiacourt Front. 
 Our front line lay just a couple of kilos beyond that town, where, 
 content with having gained their objectives, the straightening of 
 the line necessary to the success of the gigantic plans of General 
 Foch, our troops had dug in and consolidated the ground won. 
 
 During the eight days we were in this sector those troops whose 
 lot it was to occupy the first line were engaged in some of the hot- 
 test trench warfare of the whole war. We lost an astounding num- 
 ber of men, wounded by shrapnel and victims of poisonous gas. 
 The enemy sprayed the lines continually with shrapnel, high explo- 
 sives and gas shells. Trench raids and skirmishes between patrols 
 were constantly going on at night. The division, — sent here for a 
 short rest, — found itself up against fighting fully as harrowing and 
 active as that of the Argonne, but of a dififerent brand. We acquit- 
 ted ourselves with highest honors, in spite of the fact that we were 
 in terrible condition after our experience as shock troops in that 
 great drive. 
 
 Our company was in the reserve line near Bouillonville, a town 
 close to Thiacourt, and so we were able to get some sort of rest. 
 We were sorely in need of it. On the first day in the sector we had 
 to cook our own individual meals, as we had been doing for the past 
 week. 
 
 On the second day a kitchen was secured, and once more we 
 began to get good meals. The effect of this bit of rest and good 
 food was wonderful. We "perked up" and soon were in good 
 spirits and good condition again. It was our good fortune that it 
 was not our turn to do a hitch in the front line. Our "rest" was 
 indeed appreciated, although it was not of the rest-camp type; free 
 from the duties and far from the battle lines. 
 
 117 
 
We were treated to a bar of chocolate, a package of cookies, 
 and cigarettes, on October 10th ; a stunt which put us in prime good 
 humor and made us appreciate the fact that our officers were think- 
 ing of our welfare. 
 
 Private Ray Johnson had been warned by Lieutenant Merri- 
 man that he was mentioning names of towns too freely in his letters 
 of late, and that in censoring them the lieutenant had nearly gotten 
 a glass arm. A few days after we arrived in the St. Mihiel Sector, 
 Johnson brought in several letters written by Coleman and himself. 
 The Lieutenant was in a hurry. 
 
 "Johnson," he said, "is there anything in your letters here that 
 oughtn't to be in them?" 
 
 "No, sir," replied Johnson. 
 
 "Is there anything in Coleman's?" 
 
 "I don't know, Lieutenant. I can't vouch for Coleman." 
 
 He sealed the letters and affixed his signature, taking a chance. 
 When Johnson got back to his billet and questioned Coleman con- 
 cerning the matter, his buddy confessed that he had given the names 
 of several towns in those letters, just so they would be struck out 
 in censoring, and thus excite curiosity at home. 
 
 Well, what's the diff? The war's over now! 
 
 According to Beardsley, Private Lynn Rood holds the distinc- 
 tive record of being the only man in the A. E. F. who has ever suc- 
 ceeded in foundering himself on army rations. On the St. Mihiel 
 Sector he threw up four pairs of old socks. 
 
 As you know, our Skipper is a mounted man. At Bru his 
 Uncle Sammy issued him a fine horse, somewhat undersized, but 
 otherwise a beauty. At first the Skipper was simply infatuated with 
 the animal. The Old Boy did present a snappy appearance as he 
 dashed by his less fortunate comrades. 
 
 Time went on until we landed in the Argonne. Here the noble 
 steed began to wax lean and weak owing to lack of feed and over- 
 work. Then, having traveled from the Argonne to the St. Mihiel 
 Sector almost without oats, the Old War Horse was just about 
 "finis." You could hang your hat on his hip-bones, the hay stuck 
 right out through his ribs, his head and neck looked like grand-dad's 
 salt gourd, and his hair stood on end like an army issue mule-brush. 
 In other words, he was a "Darb." 
 
 118 
 
While on this sector it was necessary for the Skipper to report 
 to Brigade Headquarters near Essey, a distance of about one kilo- 
 meter. He ordered the horse saddled. Soon all was ready and the 
 Skipper mounted and started on his way. He rode just over the 
 first knoll where he thought he would be well out of sight. Two 
 buck-privates happened to be loafing in the foliage nearby. The 
 Skipper dismounted, admired his own soldierly appearance, and 
 then surveyed the poor ungainly horse. The Skipper is no expert 
 judge of horses, but he realized the animal was slightly "off," so to 
 speak. One of the buck privates heard him mutter, 'T'll be cussed 
 if I let my superiors see me on that outfit !" 
 
 He tied his war-horse to a telegraph pole and walked to his 
 destination. On his return he mounted and rode into quarters, 
 but made no remark. He did not know anyone had seen him. A 
 few days later the old steed fell victim to Two Gun Slim Sylvia's 
 automatic. Ever after, in France and Belgium, the Skipper hiked. 
 
 — PVT. C. G. GREENLEAF. 
 
 The new men from the 86th Division came to us at the Gully. 
 Remember how sorry we felt for the poor dudes ? 
 
 Bleeding France bled us of all our francs at Vignot ! 
 
 A few of us suffered from stomach-ache after filling up on 
 grapes at Boucq. 
 
 Remember that rush of recurring feelings which came over you 
 when that first long range shell burst in Essey? 
 
 Homer Price and Johnson accompanied the Skipper on a trip 
 to Eauvezin, a town about four kilometers from Essey. From 
 Eauvezin they were sent on alone to find the First Battalion and 
 get information regarding our lost train and kitchen and the possi- 
 bility of securing rations for the company. This incident is men- 
 tioned merely to call attention to the fact that we had it pretty soft 
 in our snug little huts in the Gully. The First Battalion men were 
 in pup-tents and wet dugouts in a woods accessible only by a ter- 
 ribly muddy road. Conditions were almost as bad as on that never- 
 to-be-forgotten night in the Argonne when we lay in the rain and 
 mud on the shell-swept hills near Ivoiry. We didn't always get the 
 dirty end of the stick, you see. 
 
 119 
 
We drew clean underwear and socks at the Gully. The under- 
 wear, you remember, was that known as "Cooties' Paradise." We 
 had to use our extra shoelaces to tie it on and there was so much 
 "slack" in the legs and seat that it gave a fellow a queer feeling. 
 
 Old "Uncle Tom," whose real name we do not know, but who 
 is a "Y" man who won a lasting place in our hearts, opened up a, 
 canteen in the Gully for the special benefit of our company and the 
 136th Machine Gun Battalion. It so happens that few of us had 
 come in contact with him before, but he is well known to other out- 
 fits of the division. He was on the job most of the time in the 
 Baccarat Sector, and it was there that the boys learned to regard 
 him as a friend and a man. Uncle Tom was always jovial and kind, 
 and always "doing things," but with a modest and self-efifacing way 
 about him. Many a man has gone to Uncle Tom's canteen when he 
 was broke and received tobacco, cakes, and cigarettes with the as- 
 surance that he need not worry about it. "Pay me when you can," 
 said Uncle Tom. 
 
 We saw him for the last time at the Gully, and by way of a 
 farewell to us — he was going back to the States — he brought a huge 
 supply of cookies, jam, milk, tobacco, chocolate and cigarettes, and 
 sold each man all he wanted. We had just been paid, and for once 
 we got our fill. 
 
 Our hats are off to you, also, Uncle Tom ! 
 
 Finally the Company received the Christmas Package Coupons 
 we had heard so much about on Tuesday, October 15th. They were 
 issued that day. Considering the slowness of the A. E. F. outgoing 
 mail, it scarcely seemed worth while to send them home. According 
 to the instructions, they had to be in the hands of our folks and the 
 packages mailed by November 20th. 
 
 The roads between Bouillonville and Thiacourt were harassed 
 by shell fire. Coleman and Johnson, runners to Regimental Head- 
 quarters, got lots of additional practice in shell-dodging on their 
 numerous trips back and forth. 
 
 The Red Cross operated a station in Bouillonville, which was 
 open to runners at all hours of the night. They had "boo-coo" hot 
 cocoa on tap and gave a man all he wanted ; a canteen full to carry 
 away with him, too, if he cared to take it. The station also dis- 
 tributed newspapers and magazines to the men and took care of sick 
 and wounded. 
 
 120 
 
The Colonel ordered the kitchens nearer the front line, so 
 that the boys could have hot food in the trenches, and then raised 
 Cain because the smoke drew shell-fire. 
 
 Regimental Headquarters was in a densely wooded valley 
 "beyond Thiacourt. The place was shelled constantly. One big fel- 
 low lit on a shanty on the hillside, killing five runners and wounding 
 three others seriously. 
 
 We heard lots of peace rumors while we were in the Gully, but 
 we had been cured of being credulous and jumping to conclusions 
 by the fiasco at Juoy. 
 
 From the Gully to Blenod-Les-Toul 
 
 October i6th-Octobcr lyth 
 
 Quite naturally, as we were moving, it rained. Leaving our 
 cozy billets at 11 :30 p. m., Wednesday, October 16th, we hiked the 
 muddy one kilometer to the loading point on the high road between 
 Bouillonville and Essey. We were going on another truck trip. 
 
 When we arrived on the scene we took our places in a rain- 
 soaked field along with the hundreds of other men gathered there. 
 The truck train was late. "J^st our luck !" we grumbled. We stood 
 around in the rain and cold for three and a half hours before it did 
 come. Then, after considerable confusion — each captain tried to 
 get his men under cover first, it appeared — we were finally jammed 
 into the trucks. Ordinary truck capacity is sixteen men; many 
 of these trucks were packed ''to the scuppers" with twenty-two, 
 twenty-four, and even as high as twenty-six men — nor were any 
 extra trucks supplied for officers ; at least we know that the Skipper, 
 Lieutenant Merriman, and Lieutenant Shultz were packed into one 
 truck along with the rest of the men. 
 
 The whole trip was an affair miserable enough, and few inci- 
 dents worth mentioning occurred. We just philosophically endured 
 the discomfort, or passed the time with jokes and exaggerated grum- 
 bling — that privilege of the soldier — and, of course, the good old 
 songs that were ever on our lips at such times. At 9 A. M. the next 
 day we de-bussed at the town of Foug, having passed through Toul 
 shortly before. 
 
 There ensued a wait of about half an hour and then we formed 
 up and started to hike. Now, it must be explained that, in spite of 
 our week of comparitive ease and comfort in the Gully, we were by 
 no means fully recuperated from the previous weeks of hard work. 
 
 121 
 
The infantry, who had been on the front line at St. Mihiel, were 
 worse off than we were. Our real need was a rest in a division rest 
 camp. When a man has given all but the last ounce of his strength ; 
 all but that last shred of endurance required to keep him on his feet 
 and enable him to stagger, he has a tough time regaining his former 
 ability to withstand the exhaustive effects of hiking and the attendant 
 difficulties of active service — and our service had surely been con- 
 stantly active since we had first entered the lines, as the reader will 
 easily understand. In view of the above stated conditions, it is no 
 wonder that the hike upon which we were entering reduced itself 
 to a straggle before it was over. 
 
 From Foug we doubled back towards Toul, but by other roads. 
 We did not know why we had been taken beyond our final destina- 
 tion and then forced to hike back — that was just another illustration 
 of the incomprehensible methods of the army, we concluded, and 
 seized upon it as a good subject to grouch about. A good soldier, 
 you will find, invariably growls and grumbles about minor hardships, 
 but put him in a battle and he never chirps. 
 
 The hills around Toul are one vast vineyard of the white and 
 blue grape. Hundreds of peasants were at work gathering in the 
 crops and loading the funny tub wagons to the brim with the luscious 
 fruit. The pickers filled the long deep wicker or wooden baskets, 
 slung them on their backs as we sling our packs, and carried them 
 to these strange vehicles, which had three cumbersome wheels, two 
 in back and one in front, and a huge, deep, wooden tub set upon 
 their frames. The hills and valleys were a riot of colors — the green, 
 yellow, blue, red and brown of the vineyards glowing in the bright 
 sunlight, but softened by the deep mauve of the brush and dark 
 green of the fir woods which crowned the heights. 
 
 Before our exhaustion began to show itself we found these 
 scenes very interesting. During the first rest periods we partially 
 satisfied the demands of our stomachs with grapes and turnips, but 
 after the first ten ''kilos" of hiking we were too much knocked out 
 to bother. It was a case of flopping to the ground the instant the 
 command, "Fall out to the right !" was given. It is harrowing 
 enough to have to plug along under full pack for fifty minutes at a 
 time when your knees begin to cave twenty minutes after you start, 
 but combine that with a pace entirely too fast and lack of certain 
 knowledge of destination and you have ''Hell repeated." It is 
 doubly agravating to be told that the march is to be six or eight 
 kilometers and then have it stretched to ten, then twelve, and then 
 fifteen. Hope rises high as each town is entered and then dies 
 down and flickers out as it becomes evident that "this ain't the 
 town." 
 
 122 
 
During the last five kilometers the men began falling out of 
 ranks by the dozen; to straggle in hours later by twos and threes 
 as their strength permitted. Due, possibly, to our bit of rest at the 
 Gully, our company marched into Blenod-les-Toul intact. 
 
 After reaching billets and ridding ourselves of our obnoxious 
 loads, we rushed to the stores of the town in a mad race to secure 
 eggs, meat, cheese, jam, bread — any kind of food that could be pro- 
 cured. The flood passed in a whirl of feverish buying, and then, 
 having stripped the shopkeepers of the bulk of their stock, we 
 retired to back alleys and cooked our meals in our mess pans. Our 
 kitchen, you see, was A W O L again! 
 
 Blenod-Les-Toul 
 
 October lyth-Octoher ipth 
 
 Our sojourn at this village was very short. We were there 
 only for the time required to assemble the division and secure 
 transportation for the big move which was known to be coming. 
 We knew that five days' ''travel rations" were being drawn, but we 
 did not know where we were going. The future was veiled by the 
 strictest secrecy. Of course, there were the usual rumors, but none 
 of them could be given a plausible foundation — Russia, Italy, Rest 
 Camp, Alsace-Lorraine, all came to life again. Another rumor, 
 flouted as being absolutely foolish, was that we were going to Bel- 
 gium. 
 
 The town of Blenod-les-Toul contained no unusual points of 
 interest, nor was it any different than the other small communities 
 we had been in. We were billeted in the usual manner. We remem- 
 ber the town as being a pleasant place, perhaps because we were 
 not there long enough to tire of it. Our kitchen did not show up, 
 so we were issued flour, bacon, steak, onions, sugar, salt, coffee, 
 and "grease" for frying. Thus, most of our time was occupied with 
 cooking individual means in our mess pans. 
 
 Sergeant Jack Stimmel, gassed in the Argonne, returned to us 
 at Blenod-les-Toul. Most of his time, he told us, had been spent 
 in gadding about the country on a private sight-seeing tour. 
 
 Speaking of the recent bid of the Huns for peace brings to mind 
 James Russell Lowell in his "Bigelow Papers" : 
 
 "Better that all our ships an' all their crews 
 Should sink to rot in ocean's dreamless ooze, 
 
 123 
 
Each torn flag wavin' challenge ez it went, 
 An' each dumb gun a brave man's moniment, 
 Than seek sech peace ez only cowards crave ; 
 Give me the peace of dead men or of brave!" 
 
 That's right, James ! 
 
 Flapjacks leaped to popularity in the alleys of Blenod-les-Toul. 
 Hamer Farrell was Chief Mixer of the Dough. Oh, boy ! weren't 
 they the real article? Our cooks would swell up and burst with 
 pride if they ever handed us flapjacks like those! 
 
 The Skipper got in Dutch with his wife. Somebody wrote 
 home, and his girl told another dame, who knew Mrs. Wedow, all 
 about a certain incident. When Captain Wedow read his wife's 
 letter a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead. It ran, in sub- 
 stance, something like this : ". . . and now I hear that you have 
 been riding over the roads of France in an automobile seated in a 
 certain person's lap. Will you kindly explain such scandalous 
 actions ?" 
 
 The Skipper was tearing his hair, so to speak, when he came 
 to this postscript: "That 'certain person' was Private Ray John- 
 son." (The Captain rode from the Gully to Foug seated on that 
 private's angular prayer bones, you see!) 
 
 124 
 
Leaving Blenod-les-Toul at 4:30 P. M. we hiked ten kilometers 
 to the rail head at Dongermain. As we loaded into the freight cars 
 it begain to rain. Why not? We were moving! 
 
 We will pass up this opportunity to discourse again on the sub- 
 ject of French troop trains ; suffice it to say, we had as rotten a time 
 as usual. Our route took us through Troyes, Nangis, and the out- 
 skirts of Paris that night. That was as near as most of us ever got 
 to that famous city, the goal of our hopes, when we came to France ; 
 all we saw were rail lights and a broad expanse of shiny wet tracks. 
 During the night we had indulged in wild dreams of a Rest Camp, 
 but when we turned northwest from Paris that air castle was shat- 
 tered. We were headed for Belgium ! 
 
 At about 1 p. m. the following day we hit the seacoast near 
 Boulogne, passing within sight of that port. Soon we began to see 
 the old familiar barbed wire entanglements and trench systems — 
 reserve lines of resistance. It was 7 o'clock, misty twilight, when 
 we detrained in the most desolate spot we had ever* yet seen. We 
 could not see much, it is true, in the failing light, but we saw just 
 enough to cause our hearts to sink in despair. Everywhere — gray 
 mud, debris, wire, old trenches, piles of shattered equipment, and a 
 road teeming with men and vehicles. 
 
 There was no confusion in the detraining and we quickly slung 
 our packs and started to march out the road. We went only a few 
 hundred yards and then turned into a side road, where we halted. 
 There followed a wait of ten or fifteen minutes while billets were 
 being sought amongst the dozens of dugouts, which, according to 
 information, abounded in the vicinity. Pup tents were considered, 
 and then abandoned, because of the irregularities in the land due 
 to old shellfire. Sufficient dugouts were found after a careful search 
 and we distributed ourselves in them by twos, threes and fours until 
 all of us were under cover. 
 
 125 
 
When we crawled into our little dug-outs the night before we 
 were tired and depressed by the atmosphere of desolation that was 
 so apparent in this land. The dug-outs, we found to our sorrow, 
 were infested with trench rats and fleas, and were exceedingly damp 
 and ill smelling. The rats awakened us frequently by scurrying 
 over our bodies or by the racket they made trying to get at our 
 reserve rations. The fleas bit us until some of the fellows were well 
 nigh distracted. Such conditions did not tend to improve our tem- 
 pers, and when, in the morning, we emerged from our holes in the 
 earth, we were very much cast down by the prospect that greeted us. 
 
 The land, before the war, must have been flat or gently rolling, 
 for a broad view could easily be had from any of the many little 
 knolls. From such a vantage point all that could be seen was a sea 
 of grass, sprinkled with old watery shell holes and dotted with the 
 low humped roofs of hundreds of little dug-outs. Old barbed wire 
 lay in rusted tangles, tin cans abounded as in a city dump, frayed 
 harness, splintered boards, twisted iron bars, and little piles of bat- 
 tered shell cases were scattered far and wide. In the distance a 
 string of dinky freight cars indicated the railroad, and on our right 
 the passing trucks showed the roadway. ''What place can this be?" 
 we wondered. 
 
 We were not long finding out. At about 9 o'clock, after a con- 
 siderable time spent in waiting on the roadside for Headquarters 
 Company, we started to hike. According to our officers, the hike 
 was to last all day and possibly into the night and would be about 
 twenty-five kilometers in length. We had not progressed over a 
 hundred vards when we saw a small sign at a crossroads — 
 "YPRES." 
 
 126 
 
We were now seeing what all the world has read about and 
 shuddered over; a city razed from the face of the earth, the monu- 
 ment of complete, utter, irreclaimable ruin to the spirit of the Hun- 
 the place where Britain had hung on for four long years of misery 
 her men giving their lives in countless thousands and suffering un- 
 speakable tortures that the bulldog grip might never loosen,- the 
 stronghold that had saved the last remnant of King Albert's brave 
 kingdom, enabling his little army, in the last months of the war to 
 begin the turning movement that freed the sea coast cities of BruWs 
 and Zeebrugge and helped roll the Huns back into Germany This 
 was \pres and The Salient; the burial ground of the famous Cana- 
 dian Princess Pat" Regiment, and the scene of that first gas attack 
 which so dumfounded and sickened the world. 
 
 No writer has exaggerated in his description of this famous 
 place. To exaggerate is an impossibility, for no adequate words 
 exist which could possibly convey a picture of such a ravaged land 
 We relapsed into stunned silence as the line of march opened new 
 vistas of the vast waste, or, vainly attempting to throw of? the 
 depressing atmosphere that pervaded us, chattered garrulously to 
 one another. 
 
 The road we followed was slimy with mud— Flanders mud. 
 It wound tortuously between single rows of dead, shell-splintered 
 poplars which had been stripped of their branches and cut off with 
 surprising regularity at an average height of eight or ten feet, leav- 
 ing only the stumps, some of which were sprouting anew since the 
 tide of battle had been rolled back. 
 
 On each side the terrain was pock-marked with countless shell- 
 holes ; shell-holes, old and new, were crowded together until their 
 very rims lapped or merged with others. Not a single square foot 
 of land had escaped. All was one great convulsion. The old holes 
 were grown over by long grasses and wild weeds ; the newer ones 
 looked like big scars in the yellow earth. Every one, old or new, 
 was filled with water, due to the nearness of the country to sea level 
 This was one of the conditions that helped make more difficult the 
 task of holding Ypres. Trenches had to be built up and bulwarked 
 with sand bags instead of being dug in the ground, and even then 
 they filled with water. 
 
 Barbed wire entanglements made a labyrinth on every side; 
 tin cans and rubbish were strewn along the roadside ; water-soaked 
 piles of lumber lay rotting by the ditches. We saw the fluttering 
 skeletons of aeroplanes; tangled masses of torn varnished cloth, 
 splintered framework, and bent wheels from which the engines, 
 instruments and other vital parts had been removed, leaving them' 
 like the flimsy, decayed carcasses of flies caught and gutted by 
 spiders. Here and there we came upon the rusting remains of huge 
 
 127 
 
tanks, which gave us visions of the whistling shells that had struck 
 them, rending their very bowels, and killing or wounding their occu- 
 pants. Like the planes, they had been stripped of all vital gear, 
 shunted aside, and left to crumble away. 
 
 At all crossroads, as we entered the land which the Germans 
 had abandoned in their retreat, we had to make detours over newly 
 built wooden bridges. The crossings had been blown up by mines, 
 and in their huge craters, filled deep with water, the bodies of dead 
 horses had been thrown. Some of them were minus legs or heads, 
 and strips of skin, partially torn from the carcasses, floated up 
 toward the surface, the bare flesh, thus exposed, w^hite from the 
 efifects of the water like the sickly color of a toad's belly. 
 
 Perched mockingly upon a pile of boards we saw a human skull 
 with bits of hair still upon it. Perhaps some Tommy, with perverted 
 humor, had set it there for the eyes of passing thousands to look 
 upon. Perhaps a German had left it to mock spitefully the con- 
 querors. It surely appeared to us a most eloquent symbol of the 
 land we were passing through, whose very atmosphere was death. 
 
 Had we not been so much occupied with these thousand interest- 
 ing, yet repulsive, sights, we might have found plenty of food for 
 grumbling. The road was rocky, uneven, and a slough of mud, our 
 packs were becoming exceedingly irksome, and we were ravenously 
 hungry, having had for breakfast what little hardtack and bully we 
 had saved from the train. Around 1 o'clock in the afternoon we 
 halted and had a slender meal. At 3 we pushed on. 
 
 The land now took on a subtle change ; the shell-holes and other 
 signs of devastation began to disappear. We saw a few open un- 
 touched fields, and many of the trees were quite whole. The road, 
 too, was improving. Darkness settled gradually. We began to see 
 the flare of fires against the sky and the beams of many tiny lights 
 far ahead. Then, slowly taking shape in the gloom, we saw the 
 dusky outlines of a house. The sight of a human habitation, although 
 apparently untenanted, sent a revulsion of feeling over us that swept 
 away the depression of dead Yypres. We became cheerful and light- 
 hearted once more. 
 
 The house proved to be at a crossroads, and by the light from 
 a truck standing nearby, we read several signs. The name of the 
 crossroads was Sleyhaege ; another sign pointed northeast to Hoog- 
 lede ; another gave direction to Roulers, slightly to the south of east ; 
 the fourth gave the road southwest to Yypres, over which we had 
 come; the last pointed westward to Staden. Our column turned 
 toward that town. 
 
 Along the road to Staden we passed other troops of our divi- 
 sion who were encamped in pup tents in the fields. It was the fires 
 
 128 
 
of their kitchens and the lights of candles in the tents which we had 
 seen from the other road. The front, evidently, must be still far 
 away. We went on for a distance of two kilometers and then 
 pitched pup tents in a similar place, only five hundred yards from 
 Staden. It was impossible to procure billets for us that night, but 
 we did not mind sleeping in the open. 
 
 Staden 
 
 October 2^d-Octoher 26th 
 
 After having breakfasted on rice, syrup, bread and coffee at 
 Headquarters Company kitchen — we were still without ours— wx 
 laid our equipment in the sun to dry, for the dew had been par- 
 ticularly heavy that night. Meanwhile we washed and shaved and 
 cleaned up as much as possible. Just before noon we rolled our 
 packs and moved to billets in the shattered town of Staden. 
 
 Staden, the first Belgian town we were in, was ruined almost 
 beyond repair by shellfire and deliberate dynamiting. The great 
 high-vaulted cathedral was a mere skeleton, the roofs and walls of 
 all the large buildings had been caved in, and the smaller dwellings 
 were similarly knocked to pieces. As there were only one or two 
 places whose roofs had escaped, temporary roofs of old boards had 
 been constructed to shelter troops, and to these places we went. 
 
 The most noticeable feature of Staden was the fact that all the 
 buildings, even the very smallest, were built of red brick. In France 
 we had become so used to seeing houses of stone that this seemed 
 quite strange. The railroad at Staden was a mass of broken ties 
 and twisted steel rails; the task of rebuilding it would be enormous. 
 Strangely enough, the station had been spared by the retreating 
 Huns. It was the only whole building in town. 
 
 We were at Staden only two and a half days. There w^as little 
 else to do the first afternoon but clean up ourselves, our clothing and 
 our equipment. Another kitchen was finally secured, but being on 
 French rations, we fared rather poorly. Our lately acquired art of 
 flapjack baking came to our assistance, and having secured flour, 
 bacon fat, baking powder, sugar, coffee, and even canned milk, by 
 hook or crook, it must be admitted, from a ration dump nearby, we 
 managed to maintain tight belts. 
 
 Now that all this is gone and past, it must be said, in justice 
 to the few men who might have been suspected of carrying on such 
 nefarious practices, that the sin of "hooking" the ingredients for 
 flapjacks was universal. Those who didn't hook the stuff helped 
 eat the finished article, knowing full well whence it came. Nor were 
 these nocturnal raids on ration dumps confined to our company 
 
 129 
 
alone; this being borne out by the fact several fights with men of 
 the other companies occurred, they also being bent on having flap- 
 jacks, and none of us hesitating to quarrel over the spoils. 
 
 During the two full days we were in this town we worked on 
 the gun carts, machine guns, tripods, and other equipment, cleaning, 
 polishing and oiling them until they shone with proper brightness. 
 Gas masks and helmets were carefully marked. We were given 
 severe lectures on care and preservation of equipment and clothing. 
 Being now isolated from the rest of the A. E. F. we could not pro- 
 cure supplies in plenty. We were about to go into another big 
 drive, so we were told ; another reason for bracing ourselves up. 
 As is the habit of soldiers, we flouted the advice among ourselves, 
 but nevertheless quietly went about doing the things we had been 
 advised to do. That's human contrariness ! 
 
 Lichtervelde 
 
 October 26th-Octoher 28th 
 
 Leaving Staden at about 8 :00 a. m. on Saturday, we hiked six- 
 teen kilometers to Lichtervelde, passing through the small town of 
 St. Joseph. The country through which we passed had been cleared 
 of the Germans only a few days, and had been left in pretty good 
 condition. Flanders was proving to be much different than we had 
 expected. This was a land of small farms. Scattered far and wide 
 were little, one-story, low, red-brick houses, thatched with grass or 
 roofed with tile, and surrounded by barns and strawstacks. At this 
 season of the year most of the land was devoted to turnips ; indeed, 
 the country was a vast, bright-green sea of turnip-tops. Everything 
 impressed us as being well-ordered and scrupulously clean. 
 
 The civilians we saw were bright, jolly, and intelligent, and 
 simply went wild over us. We were the first body of American 
 troops in Flanders, and the first these people had ever seen. Many 
 of them could speak German, and they told us that they had at first 
 thought we were British, because the Germans had told them the 
 Americans would never come. Their joy and hearty welcome were 
 pleasing, yet very pathetic. They were boundlessly happy at their 
 release from captivity, and seemed to care not a straw for former, 
 present, or future troubles. To them, we were a band of heroes, 
 come to bring retribution upon the Hun and free the rest of Belgium. 
 They told us that for several days the Germans had held out in 
 strong positions back of the Lys River and could not be dislodged. 
 Their faith that we could and would drive them from this strong- 
 hold was as inspiring as it was touching. Here, we decided, were a 
 people worth fighting for. 
 
 130 
 
At one place where we halted something happened which we had 
 never experienced in France. The children came running out with 
 water and carefully washed turnips for us to eat. One woman brewed 
 pot after pot of coffee, exhausting her meager supply that we might 
 have it. To refuse hurt their feelings, and they declined to accept 
 money. We compromised by giving that to the children. Another 
 woman brought out two buckets of precious milk and sold it to us 
 at an absurdly low price. It must be remembered that cows were 
 scarce. Most of the cattle and horses had been driven away or 
 butchered by the retreating enemy. The eager kindness of these 
 people touched us to the very depths of our hearts. They offered 
 us everything they had, expecting no return and asking nothing. 
 Of course, we were to find out later that there were mercenary 
 people in every land, but that does not affect our whole-hearted, gen- 
 uine affection for the Belgians as a people. 
 
 When we arrived in Lichtervelde we were welcomed enthusi- 
 astically and were billeted in barracks abandoned by the Germans. 
 
 Next morning, Sunday, we had a formation for an inspection 
 of gas masks and helmets, followed by policing of quarters, which 
 had been left in a very dirty condition. During the rest of the day 
 we were free. The majority of us scattered through the town and 
 surrounding country in search of articles of food — French rations 
 were simply not enough for us. About all we could get was a meager 
 supply of milk and bread. It was here that we first encountered 
 the solid, brown, bran-bread of Belgium. A loaf of it was as solid 
 and heavy as rock, and encased in a tough crust. The inside looked 
 like baked sawdust. We soon learned to like it immensely, however, 
 and preferred it by far to the tasteless French army bread that we 
 were receiving. 
 
 We found Lichtervelde to be scarcely touched with the excep- 
 tion of the railroad, which was torn up even worse than it was at 
 Staden. The French already had German prisoners at work upon 
 it here. The town was decked in Allied flags and a few stores were 
 open. Very little liquor, aside from a poor grade of beer, could be 
 procured. During the day we discovered wooden bunks in a Ger- 
 man military hospital and carried many of them to our barracks. 
 Our labor brought very little reward, for we moved out the following 
 morning. 
 
 Thielt 
 
 October 28th-Octoher ^oth 
 
 On Monday, October 28th, we were routed out at 5 :30 a. m. 
 
 to roll our packs for another move. Breakfast over, we fell in at 
 
 7 o'clock and moved out with the rest of the regiment. It was a 
 
 bright sunshiny day and we were in fine spirits, although, to be 
 
 131 
 
truthful, it must be said that we indulged in a good deal of cussing 
 of the Belgian roads. They were a new type to us and were already 
 beginning to get our feet. These roads are the worst drawback to 
 soldiering in Belgium ; built of old, worn cobblestones between 
 which are wide interstices, and usually covered with a slime of thin 
 mud, they cause the feet to slip and the legs to strain unduly hard 
 in order to balance the weight of the body. One's feet are contin- 
 ually slipping, at toe or heel, into the wide crevices, and nothing so 
 enhances the difficulty of marching and maintaining a steady pace as 
 an unstable footing. 
 
 Passing through Goolscamp and Pitthem, good sized towns, we 
 made Thielt, our destination, by 11:30 a. m., and were quartered 
 in a great, unfinished, brick convent. 
 
 Thielt, a flourishing town of twelve thousand before the war, 
 is the largest town in which we have ever been billeted. It contains 
 many shops and stores, all of which were exceedingly well stocked 
 when we arrived. The place was left undamaged by the enemy with 
 the exception of the little bit done by shellfire as the Allies were 
 occupying it. The people flocked along our line of march and gave 
 us a glad welcome. Probably no American flags were procurable — 
 they had not expected us, anyhow — but the streets were hanging 
 full of Belgian, French and English banners, and the people made 
 up in kindness what they lacked in that sort of demonstration. 
 
 The huge convent in which we were quartered had ample room 
 for the entire regiment. It had been used for troops by the Ger- 
 mans to a small extent, but the greater part had been evidently a 
 military hospital. Great care had to be taken regarding the showing 
 of lights, as enemy planes bombed the vicinity several times while we 
 were there. 
 
 There was an observation tower which the Germans had built 
 on the roof of the building. The tower was boxed by a flat railing 
 on which arrows had been burnt into the wood, pointing the direc- 
 tion and giving the distance in kilometers to various outlying towns. 
 There was also a steel range card on which were engraved the direc- 
 tions and ranges to certain towns and points of strategical interest. 
 The view of the flat surrounding country was wonderful ; no less 
 than twenty-four windmills could be seen, and the farmhouses were 
 so numerous that the entire land looked like an enormous red-roofed 
 city. It was easy to realize that Belgium was the most densely pop- 
 ulated nation of Europe. 
 
 Behind the convent, which was on the very edge of the town, 
 was a former German aviation field, now converted to the uses of 
 the French. From this spot French planes made numerous trips 
 at all hours of the day and night to the front. 
 
 132 
 
We were totally ignorant as to the actual distance to the front 
 from Thielt ; most of us believed it to be at least thirty kilometers, as 
 only occasional faint cannonading could be heard. Therefore, when 
 the rumor came that we were going over the top in a drive on the 
 thirty-first, only a day or so away, we scoffed at the idea. "Why," 
 we said, "we are scarcely well enough equipped and our new men 
 know nothing about machine guns !" 
 
 One of the expressions which has stuck in our minds is the 
 first one we learned in Belgium : "All iss ka-poot by der Dutch !" It 
 corresponds to that abominable French remark : "Fineesh !" 
 
 If you asked to buy milk they replied, "All iss ka-poot." If 
 you asked for butter, "All if ka-poot." And if you asked for any- 
 thing and they failed to understand you, they invariably took refuge 
 in the same reply, "All iss ka-poot !" 
 
 Even the mademoiselles were ka-poot, by heck ! 
 
 One or two little incidents of the many that occurred will serve 
 to illustrate the kindness of the people and their desire to please us. 
 
 As we were marching through the town, and had almost reached 
 the convent, a runner of Headquarters Platoon was dropped off at 
 a street corner to meet and guide the kitchen. An old woman beck- 
 oned to him from a doorway and insisted that he come inside. He 
 stood in the entry to please her, and unnoticed by him, she prepared 
 coffee and a plate of bread and jelly. He tried to refuse when she 
 brought it to him, but she was not to be denied — besides, jelly is 
 tempting to the palate of a soldier. Her obvious contentment and 
 happiness as she watched him eat and drink, the soldier says, made 
 him think of home and his mother. 
 
 Later in the day two men tried to buy bread at another place. 
 The old man had none to sell, but he actually pushed them, though 
 they protested, into another room and made them partake of bread, 
 butter and coffee before permitting them to go. 
 
 More than one of us got an unwelcome addition to our stock 
 of experience when we were in the German barracks at Lichtervelde. 
 German fleas and cooties started new and speedily flourishing colo- 
 nies in our shirts ! 
 
 The damned things are such sociable vermin ! Once they force 
 their friendship upon you they are untiring in their misguided dem- 
 
 133 
 
onstrations of affection. No doubt we were better fare than their 
 former hosts. Even a flea or a coot can be particular about his meals. 
 
 Wee! Ya! Nein! Fineesh! Ka-poot! What next! 
 
 The kitchens of the regiment were nearly mobbed by ill-clad 
 men, women and children when they began to give them the left- 
 overs and the soup bones from quarters of beef. 
 
 134 
 
riR5Ti^rrE>i3iVE 
 
 IN rLANDERS 
 
 _^Tlpw^ amtTnn ^^^^ rf^m^^ca ^;i:mn^ -- t^fnffiP' -==-^ ^=s-^ 
 
 October ^ist-Novemher ^th 
 
 We had expected to stay in Thielt for some time, but these 
 dreams received a rude jolt when, on Wednesday morning, the 
 thirtieth, we received orders to be in readiness to move out by 4 :30 
 p. m. At that hour we formed our column, and, leaving Thielt by 
 the road leading southeast to Denterghem, reached a crossroads 
 near the Lys River, one kilometer from the town of Olsene. We 
 had hiked about fifteen kilometers. 
 
 Here, Sergeant Bernard Roney, who had preceded us to pro- 
 cure billets, met the company with the information that Olsene was 
 being bombarded by the enemy with such vigor that to enter the 
 streets of the town would be suicidal. Indeed, it was easy to con- 
 firm his statement, for at that very moment the Germans let loose 
 a heavy strafe, and for the past hour we had been aware of the 
 sound of cannonading, steadily increasing as we approached. Roney 
 had found a place for the night on the outskirts of the town. He 
 declared it was bad enough, but the quietest place that could be 
 found. 
 
 Led by Roney, we turned up the road to the right for a dis- 
 tance of a hundred yards, and then to the left, down a narrow 
 hedged lane, to the bank of the swift flowing Lys river. Here we 
 were held up for over twenty minutes by the congestion of traffic 
 pouring over a narrow pontoon bridge. The wagons and kitchens 
 of Headquarters and our own company went over, one at a time. 
 Once they were held up by a stream of French artillery caissons, 
 each drawn by six horses, which were racing to the ammunition 
 dumps in the rear for a fresh supply of shells. Meanwhile, a very 
 steady and wicked bombardment was going on. Hundreds of shells 
 were tearing up the ground only fifty yards beyond the opposite 
 bank. From the sound of heavier shelling on our left we knew that 
 
 135 
 
Olsene was catching it, too. Had the Germans raised their range 
 suddenly by seventy yards they could have wreaked havoc among 
 us as we lay waiting to cross the stream. 
 
 Our wagons and carts having gone over, we in our turn poured 
 across. The frail bridge swayed with the current underneath. When 
 we regained close formation on the opposite bank we followed a 
 newly made trail right on the edge of the river and quickly passed 
 the laboring teams and wagons, whose progress was hindered by 
 the innumerable shell-holes in the path. A Headquarters company 
 wagon slithered over the bank, nearly dragging horses and driver 
 with it, and its entire load of records and stationery supplies were 
 sunk in the water. Runners were posted at every dangerous shell- 
 hole we passed to warn our kitchen and combat wagon, struggling 
 along behind us. 
 
 We had gone only a short distance when the smell of noxious 
 gas began to irritate our noses, throats, and eyes. The further we 
 went the worse this condition became; the atmosphere was charged 
 with the acrid fumes of H. E. gas, the fumes from ordinary high 
 explosive shells. It is not unlikely that tear-gas and small quantities 
 of mustard gas were present also, for the water ran from our eyes, 
 half blinding us, and our throats and nasal passages smarted un- 
 bearably. We clapped on our gas masks, but as progress was im- 
 possible in the darkness because of our inability to see through the 
 eye-pieces, most of us merely clipped our noses and drew air through 
 the mouthpiece, allowing the fabric of the masks to hang down. 
 
 Finally the officers came back and led us to a nearby house, 
 the yard of which was enclosed by a high hedge. The house itself 
 was half ruined and littered with bricks, fallen plaster, old clothing, 
 and broken furniture. The majority of the men made their beds 
 in the open along the hedge. Our mules and carts were placed in 
 the enclosure also, but the kitchen and wagons drew up behind the 
 house. 
 
 We were extremely tired, and slept soundly in spite of the con- 
 stant shelling and flying shrapnel. Our rest was brief. At 4:30 
 A. M. we were aroused and ordered to make light packs and prepare 
 to go over the top at 5 :30. 
 
 Shortly before the zero hour we drew up, — mules, carts and 
 all, — on the road behind the Courtrai-Ghent railroad, where our 
 
 136 
 
front line lay. We were in the support line, only fifty yards from 
 
 the place where we spent the 
 
 night. Just as we halted a 
 
 whizz-bang exploded at the 
 
 roadside with a brilliant flash. 
 
 We hastened to unload our guns 
 
 and equipment, and deployed 
 
 along the ditches and in the 
 
 shell-holes. The mules and 
 
 carts went back. 
 
 Just as dawn came, the 
 French artillery supporting us 
 let loose a terrific barrage and 
 
 we started over. Jerry immediately poured upon us the most wicked 
 concentration of H. E. and shrapnel we had ever experienced. Many 
 men fell before they had gone twenty feet. It was a new kind of 
 fighting. Instead of the wild Argonne forest and brush we plunged 
 past little farmhouses, fought from strawstack to strawstack, surged 
 down narrow lanes and roads, and forced our way forward through 
 endless turnip patches. The country was generally flat, broken at 
 intervals by low ridges, and offered no shelter, while the enemy took 
 advantage of the high ground and swept our line with machine gun 
 crossfire. He had machine gun nests in strawstacks, hedges, and 
 houses, and knew how to use them. His artillery pounded us with 
 fearful accuracy. 
 
 Under the leadership of dauntless Lieutenant Merriman, our 
 company soon found itself with the first wave of infantry, and there 
 we stayed. Nest after nest was surrounded and captured, and the 
 prisoners streamed back. Soon we saw a strange sight. Civilians, — 
 Belgian women, children, and old men, — emerged from cellars and 
 bombproofs as the battle line passed their homes. They threw them- 
 selves upon us, hugged us, kissed us, and cried hysterically. There 
 were women with bloody bandages around their heads, babes and 
 children with bodies lacerated, and old men, too ; all wounded by 
 shrapnel or shellfire. They had stuck to their homes through the 
 entire shock of battle, waiting for deliverance. Searching for Ger- 
 mans in every home, we found more of these poor refugees, seriously 
 wounded or dead, and sent those who were still living on stretchers 
 to the field hospitals. 
 
 Maddened by these sights we plunged forward in a whirlwind 
 advance and swept the enemy back to Cruyshautem Ridge. Here 
 they reorganized and we were forced to dig and remain all after- 
 noon and night, under harassing shell and machine gun fire and gas 
 attacks, until the morning of the next day, awaiting the aid of the 
 artillery. Ration details brought up sandwiches through the heavy 
 bombardment of our lines of communication, and we supplemented 
 
 137 
 
these with turnips from the field around us. The soil at the base of 
 the ridge was of soft texture, and we found it an easy job to dig in. 
 Straw from the many strawstacks nearby was secured after dark, and 
 filling our ''fox-holes" with this we buried ourselves and slept warm. 
 
 The general line of the division's advance was southeast along 
 the main road from Olsene to Audenarde. We were working with 
 King Albert's Belgian Army for the relief of Ghent, or ''Gand," as 
 it is called by the Belgians. 
 
 Our regiment, at the end of the first day, had driven the enemy 
 approximately four kilometers and were near Cruyshautem. Next 
 morning we went over again behind a brief barrage and outflanked 
 the machine gun nests. Our line swept over the ridge and Cruyshau- 
 tem fell into our hands. During the night the Germans had with- 
 drawn their main body, leaving only a few machine guns to guard 
 their rear. From Cruyshautem on to the Scheldt we rambled mer- 
 rily forward. Scarcely a single burst of shrapnel hindered us, and 
 we had to reduce only one machine gun nest. That was done with 
 the aid of French armored cars. The country was so flat that we 
 could easily see the French infantry who were co-operating with us 
 on the flanks. The sun shone gloriously and we sang and whistled as 
 we tramped on. At times we even forgot that we were in a drive ! 
 
 Shortly after noon we mounted a low grassy rise over which we 
 had caught a glimpse of a church spire and an unusually high ridge 
 beyond. When we reached the crest we saw before us the town of 
 Eyne, on the banks of the Scheldt, and beyond was the high, dom- 
 inating ridge. 
 
 Still in our cheerful, cocky mood, we entered the village. The 
 civilians met us in crowds, waving Belgian flags, and giving us wine 
 and beer. We crossed a high-banked railroad, and a parallel road, 
 and streamed out upon the river flats. At a point one hundred yards 
 from the river we came upon a wide ditch, deep with water. A ford 
 of stones near the junction of another and narrower ditch caught 
 our eyes and we concentrated unsuspectingly to make a crossing. 
 
 Up to this point not a shot had been fired. Suddenly, without 
 the slightest warning, a terrific cross machine gun barrage poured in 
 upon us. We rushed to cover in the ditches, men falling right and 
 left, riddled by bullets. No sooner had we got into the ditches than 
 the enemy, on the high ground across the river, opened up on us with 
 direct fire of whizz-bangs, seventy-sevens, and one-pounders. The 
 slaughter, especially among the infantrymen, was terrible. With the 
 heavy machine guns, tripods and ammunition boxes on our hands, we 
 were in "a devil of a fix." We hung on for several minutes and then 
 an order was shouted to retire. Crawling on our hands and knees 
 back up tributary ditches and spurting along the open road we finally 
 
 138 
 
extricated ourselves and withdrew to the town to reorganize and take 
 up defensive positions. 
 
 Company Headquarters was estabHshed in a house on the out- 
 skirts of Eyne, from which a view of the railroad and the hill across 
 the river could be obtained. Audenarde, the objective of the Ninety- 
 first Division, the other American division in the drive, could be seen 
 up the river to the right, about three kilometers distant. The enemy 
 shelled Eyne constantly and, due to the absence of Allied aircraft, 
 their planes, flying low, harassed us with bombs and machine gun 
 fire. Several times these planes swooped over the courtyard of our 
 headquarters and splintered the stones with bursts of bullets. 
 
 When night came positions were taken up behind the high rail- 
 road bank in houses from which we could protect the flanks of the 
 infantry with our guns. Then we settled down to the nerve-racking 
 job of hanging on under fire until the Engineers could get a pontoon 
 bridge across. It was distinctly understood that if they failed, we 
 would swim the river under fire. 
 
 Early the next morning, November 2nd, a small body of men 
 succeeded in swimming the river, and laboring under hot machine 
 gun fire and shrapnel, threw a foot-bridge across by fastening tree 
 trunks end to end. Many of our boys died or were seriously wounded 
 in attempting to get over, but late that afternoon a total of fifty-two 
 were on the other side and thus a foothold was established. Men 
 crept over that night, one at a time, during lulls in the frantic German 
 fire. Next day the contest for the river continued. The enemy be- 
 came desperate and their planes circled and dove head-on, sending 
 showers of machine gun bullets along the stream and bombing at 
 close range. 
 
 The German efforts were of no avail ; the engineers succeeded, 
 after three attempts, in getting a pontoon bridge in place near 
 Heurne. By nightfall over nine companies of infantry and four of 
 machine guns were dug in on the opposite side. They held that foot- 
 ing in spite of counter attacks, resisting all efforts to dislodge them. 
 
 On November 4th, our objective, the establishing of a bridge- 
 head over the Scheldt, having been accomplished, we were relieved 
 by French troops, although a portion of the division did not get out 
 until the 5th. We were the first and only Allied troops to cross and 
 establish ourselves on the other side of that famous river. 
 
 139 
 
Stories of the Belgium Drive 
 
 On the second day, when we ran into the machine gun nests and 
 artillery fire at the Scheldt, our squad was sure having a lively time 
 of it. To escape, we flopped flat along a shallow ditch filled with 
 water. Private Siem, who wears 11 1-2 shoes, was lying close to me. 
 A large piece of shrapnel came flying through the air and buried 
 itself in the ground near his feet. It scared him and he stuck his feet 
 into the ditch. 
 
 "Take your feet out of the water, Siem, — they'll get wet!" I 
 said. 
 
 Siem studied a moment, and then replied : 
 
 "Well, what in hell else will I do with them !" 
 
 —CORP. JOSEPH HERMAN. 
 
 Private Oscar Rotenberg sends us this one : 
 
 "One day, on October 30th, we started on hike from Thielt, Bel- 
 gium. We hike along until we cross the Lys river on a platoon 
 bridge. When we cross the river I hear a noise about gas. I start 
 to smell because when I was in Camp Grant they told me when I 
 get one smell of gas I will get killed. I had about 150 smells of that 
 gas and I never got killed. About 3:00 o'clock in the morning I 
 hear a voice all machine gunners fall on their carts. I obey the order 
 
 140 
 
and when we unload them I grab my two boxes of ammunition and 
 followed my corporal looking for the top. I hear some things sing- 
 ing around and everybody drops in a shell-hole and so do I and start 
 to wait when I am going to die. When I was in the 161st Depot 
 Brigade I was transferred to machine gun. The fellows told me 
 that a machine gunner's life going over the top is 1 1-2 seconds. I 
 looked at my watch 30 seconds and still I was a life, and I never got 
 killed at all in the drive so I think they was all damn liars !" 
 
 You tell 'em, Oscar ! 
 
 A Bit of Doggerel ! 
 
 As I lay beside a hay-mound, 
 
 Listening to that awful sound, 
 
 The roar of the cannon and shrapnel shell, 
 
 Splitting the air like a message from hell. 
 
 It was Hallowe'en Eve and I'll never forget, 
 
 Lying there in deep regret. 
 
 Thinking of pie and puddings of plum, — 
 
 You see, for supper, I had nothing but slum, — 
 
 Thinking of home and how nice 'twould be 
 
 If only I was in that land o'er the sea. 
 
 I would eat pumpkin pie 'til I had my fill, 
 
 And mother, I knew, would charge no bill. 
 
 But I slept very sound that chilly night, 
 
 As a tired soldier will, after a hike, 
 
 I was roused from my slumber at four o'clock, 
 
 A voice said, "Get up. We go over the top ! 
 
 Haul your ashes ! Make a short pack ! 
 
 Soon you'll hear our machine guns crack !" 
 
 At five o'clock the Froggie artill'ry, 
 
 Let loose a barrage that knocked the Huns silly. 
 
 Over the fields the Yanks did charge. 
 
 Paying no heed to the German barrage. 
 
 Yelling, "Jerry, you had better retreat. 
 
 For we are an army that knows no defeat !" 
 
 — PVT. VOLNEY L. RICE. 
 
 A few hours after we went over the top our kitchen was blown 
 full of holes by shrapnel and all the boilers were ruined. Now ain't 
 that a hell of a note ? We surely had hard luck with kitchens. 
 
 Lieutenant Merriman was wounded on the afternoon of Novem- 
 ber 2nd, at the Scheldt river. He and Private Lowry, a Headquar- 
 ters Platoon runner, had been out beyond the railroad where the 
 
 141 
 
Lieutenant had done some reconnoitering. Shrapnel or a shell frag- 
 ment broke a finger and wounded him severely in the thigh, disabling 
 him. It proved to be his "Blighty" wound, for he went home a 
 couple of months later. Merry was a man with "all kinds of guts" 
 and we were surely sorry to lose him. 
 
 Joe Rock says : "The civilians were awaiting us at the entrance 
 of the town with Belgian colors waving to pay us a tribute. They 
 wanted us to stop and have a drink, but it seemed we didn't have 
 time to celebrate. And I ain't had a free drink since I left home !" 
 
 "On the first day out," says Hal Davis, "we ran into a part of 
 the enemy barrage and what we thought was a gas shell exploded 
 near us. The whole squad put on their masks. After a few mo- 
 ments Snake Eye Preston took his off and looked at me as though 
 to say, 'Keep yours on, you damn fool, if you want to! But after 
 he had taken three or four breaths, a horrified expression came to 
 his face and he got his mask on toot-sweet ! I laughed a sepulchral 
 laugh, and Preston, I suppose, cussed me, but all I could hear was, 
 *Blub, blub, glub, ub, blub !' " 
 
 "A helmet ain't worth a damn," said Beardsley. 
 
 "Who said the helmet's no good," cried Kaufman. "If the hel- 
 met wasn't no good I wouldn't be here to tell you about it, and if it 
 ain't no good why did they make 'em ?" 
 
 Well, well, Kaufman, you don't say so! 
 
 Stellato was telling a story. 
 
 " and this guy got excited and said, 'We'd better 
 
 go to the rear,' but I said, 'No,' and convinced him by saying that if 
 we went back we'd get shot in the rear." 
 
 Slim Walters and Carl Munson were squeezed tightly together 
 in a fox-hole. Slim had the cooties and created commotion every so 
 often by turning over to take a whack at them. Just as regularly as 
 Slim turned to battle cooties, Jerry would send over a shower of 
 machine gun bullets. 
 
 "It kept me busy warning him not to draw fire," says the humor- 
 ous Private Munson. 
 
 Perk was as hungry as a bear. A heavy bombardment had kept 
 him in the cover of a shell-hole when we wanted to get out into the 
 surrounding turnip field in the worst way. He was wailing dismally 
 
 142 
 
about turnips when a close one, — darn close, — lit in the field and 
 showered him with the coveted vegetables. 
 
 *'It is a dispensation of Providence," said Perkinson, munching 
 a nice white turnip. 
 
 Milking goats was another accomplishment added to our long 
 and varied list on the Belgian drive. First get two dudes to hold the 
 goat, then get one to milk it. All participants should wear gas-masks. 
 
 Private Homer Price was wounded in the left arm by shrapnel 
 on the first day out, about two hours after the drive began. He was 
 ordered to go back to dressing station, although he made light of the 
 wound. After having his arm dressed, he refused to go to the hospi- 
 tal and made his way up to the company. His arm grew worse, but 
 he stuck with us throughout the drive. 
 
 Actions speak louder than words ! 
 
 Walter Lewis was wounded in the right arm by flying shrapnel 
 just as the drive started. He was leading his mule back to the old 
 house after his cart had been unloaded. He was the first casualty 
 our company had in Flanders. 
 
 Sergeant Paul Gusler, one of the best men ever in this com- 
 pany, was killed instantly on the first morning of the drive, by the 
 explosion of a shell which struck within three feet of him. Sergeant 
 Gusler was leading his section out of hot shellfire when a high ve- 
 locity shell, which came so quickly that he and his men could not 
 dodge, landed in their midst. His record was one of high courage 
 and constant devotion to duty, and his loss was a blow not only in 
 a military sense, but also to his comrades, whose affections he had 
 so completely won and deserved. 
 
 Genner Carelli, one of the new men in the company, was struck 
 on the first day out, by a six-inch shell-fragment. It hit his leg flat, 
 and though it did not bring blood, bruised him severely. His leg 
 swelled up to twice its normal size and he was unable to walk. Elmo 
 Stults (also a new man) started after coffee at Eyne and ran foul of 
 a piece of shrapnel. He got it in the left arm. 
 
 Sergeant Stimmel was gassed, for the second time, in the Bel- 
 gian Drive. 
 
 Charles Albaugh was severely wounded in the knee by a frag- 
 ment of the shell that killed Sergeant Gusler. When last heard from 
 
 143 
 
he was in an English hospital, and it had been necessary to amputate 
 his leg. The knowledge of his further misfortune fills us with regret. 
 We can only pay him the tribute due a good and courageous comrade. 
 
 Arthur Avery stopped a bit of shrapnel, on the first day out, 
 near the Courtrai-Ghent railroad. It got him in his right arm. 
 
 Lieutenant Merriman's idea of a good time was to stand up and 
 look around during a machine gun barrage ! And if he saw shells 
 lighting some distance away from him, he seemed to have a mis- 
 guided idea that he ought to go over and see about it. Merry had 
 more "guts" than a boa-constrictor ! 
 
 Dick Dawson, one of the men who joined us just before we left 
 for Camp Lee, was wounded while getting Corporal Albaugh to the 
 dressing station. 
 
 Melvin Wheeler, the brother of Lloyd, who died of wounds in 
 the Argonne, came near to the fate of his brother on the first day of 
 the Belgian Drive. While going up a ditch just beyond the Coutrai- 
 Ghent railroad he was struck in the neck by a machine gun bullet. 
 He fell, bleeding profusely, and was in a serious condition when he 
 arrived at the hospital. 
 
 Every one of us, — his old comrades, — wish to congratulate him 
 upon his recovery. 
 
 George Sierer was burnt severely by mustard gas. This was 
 not the ordinary flim-flam gas which many men got just because 
 they were sick of the war, and wanted to beat it for a while. This 
 was the real thing. He got it in the vicinity of the pistol pocket. 
 For particulars, see George. 
 
 Prank Schanes, another of the men who joined us at St. Mihiel, 
 was wounded in the side by a flying brick. He was coming back out 
 of the Scheldt machine gun nests, and just as he rounded the corner 
 of a house, a shell struck the corner and he was hit by one of the 
 heavy bricks, which came flying in all directions. 
 
 Ben Swihart, who has been a member of the company ever 
 since the winter at Camp Sheridan, received a scalp wound at the 
 Scheldt river. He was dashing across an open space and a machine 
 gun bullet grazed his head. 
 
 t^¥^^^%^^^^^^g«^<^^^^^^ 
 
 
 144 
 
Meulebeke 
 
 November ^th-Novemher pth 
 
 On the night of November 4th, after a weary drag from Eyne, 
 our company pulled into Olsene, the starting point of the drive, and 
 went to the dilapidated old house where the blanket rolls were left. 
 It was then almost midnight and the few hours until morning were 
 devoted to rest and sleep. We cared not where we laid down. We 
 w^anted sleep ! 
 
 After breakfast the next morning we started on what proved to 
 be a long, discouraging hike to the large town of Meulebeke, south of 
 Thielt, arriving in that place at 2 :30 P. M. We were billeted with 
 several other companies in a big dismantled factory, or machine- 
 shop ; the roof was of the saw-tooth type and was fitted with sky- 
 lights, a fact that caused us no end of trouble because we were for- 
 bidden to have lights at night. We had them, but we were contin- 
 ually ''catching hell" for it. The building was surrounded by a broad 
 muddy courtyard, and the entire place was enclosed by a high wall, 
 along which open sheds had been built. Under these sheds, along 
 one side of the wall, were placed the kitchens, while the horses and 
 mules were stabled on the far side. 
 
 The city of Meulebeke, itself, was rather a drab, uninteresting 
 place, containing large numbers of small stores, and many factories. 
 It reminds us a great deal of the factory districts in cities at home. 
 A Y. M. C. A. canteen and a U. S. Army commissary, however, were 
 about the only things that attracted us to the center of town. Most 
 of us remained in or about our billets, quite content to take advan- 
 tage of a chance to rest. 
 
 AA'hile we were at Meulebeke we were partially re-equipped and 
 arrangements for bathing were made. We also had the good fortune 
 to receive a flood of mail, our first in a long time, and any soldier will 
 understand without further explanation the wonderful rise in spirits 
 it produced. 
 
 The first inkling of the capitulation of Austria reached our ears 
 at Meulebeke. It illustrates the truth of the statement that a soldier 
 on the very front line, in the thick of the fight, knows less about the 
 situation than the folks at home. 
 
 Leather vests, or jerkins, were issued at Meulebeke. We were 
 overwhelmed with astonishment and joy at this evidence of munifi- 
 cence on the part of our Uncle Sammv, — and then thev called them 
 all in ! ' ' 
 
 145 
 
Well, well, — that's like some men, and army kitchens, on a drive. 
 Now you see 'em and now you don't ! 
 
 In those letters we received were the first ripples of joy and sub- 
 sequent disappointment caused by the peace rumor we heard back 
 at Juoy, France. 
 
 Chabala reports that he came to the company at Meulebeke with 
 the seat of his breeches in such condition as to be scarcely presentable 
 to ladies. We, on our part, retort that this company was no Ladies' 
 Aid Society, and it wasn't our fault if he had to do his own mending. 
 
 Chabala also says that Sergeant Fry put him on a detail, after 
 asking him whose blouse he was wearing, and that he had to get the 
 Top Buck to introduce him to convince Fry that he wasn't wearing 
 some sergeant's stripes just to get out of details ! 
 
 Cook Mooren — "Just received an order to feed fifteen more 
 men at supper tonight. Where'll I get the extra eats ?" 
 
 Mess Sergeant Byram — "Oh, just add a few handfuls of flour 
 to the slum." 
 
 Vujich was being teased by a few of the boys. Finally, in exas- 
 peration he exclaimed : "Aw, lay down wid dose pops !" 
 
 The French soldiers insisted that Germany was going to sign 
 an armistice and that the war would be over in a few days. We 
 merely scoffed at them, but can you blame us for being incredulous 
 after that previous disappointment? 
 
 It was at Meulebeke that we were outfitted with those unspeak- 
 able, flat-footed English shoes. 
 
 146 
 
SECOND. FUNDEBs 
 
 — ^^tir^ 
 
 November pth-November nth 
 
 On the morning of Saturday, November 9th, we were notified 
 to be ready to leave for the front at 1 :00 P. M. We had heard 
 rumors of another drive, but as the regiment, together with the 
 148th Infantry, had borne the brunt of the first drive and had been 
 badly cut up, we concluded that we would be put in the division 
 support-line this time, and so the news disturbed us very little. The 
 other two infantry regiments were probably to get their turn now. 
 This surmise proved correct, as we discovered that they had preceded 
 us the day before. 
 
 We left Meulebeke at 2:30 p. m. by the road leading east to 
 Denterghem. Shortly afterward we turned off at right angles and, 
 having progressed possibly three or four kilos we noticed a column of 
 troops going in the opposite direction on another road a short dis- 
 tance cross-country. "Lucky dogs!" we thought. ''You're going 
 back." A few hundred yards further on we came to a town and 
 great was our surprise when we turned a few corners and found our- 
 selves on the same road on which we had seen the other troops. 
 Then it dawned upon us that we had seen the head of our own col- 
 umn, just as we could now see the tail-end dragging into the village. 
 We were mystified. *'Gosh!" one private exclaimed, "maybe the 
 war's over and we're going back to Meulebeke." Few of us were 
 that optimistic, but it was evident that something was wrong. We 
 were not long in finding out, for fifteen or twenty minutes later we 
 turned into the Denterghem road once more at a point which we 
 saw was only two kilometers from Meulebeke. Someone had made 
 an error and taken the wrong road, we concluded bitterly, and we 
 had suffered for it. (We found out later the explanation was that 
 a French traffic officer had declared the road to be a one-way road, 
 and forced us to make the detour.) At the time we could only see 
 the fact that for some reason or other we had hiked five unnecessary 
 kilometers and the further we went the more the injustice rankled. 
 
 147 
 
That extra five kilos had a terrible effect, equipped, as most of 
 us were, with the new English shoe. When we turned off near Den- 
 terghem in the direction of Deynze we began to '*cuss" in earnest. 
 By the time we straggled into Deynze we were too worn and weak 
 and footsore even to do that. We had marched twenty-five kilo- 
 meters, and dozens of us found our socks stiff with blood and the 
 soles of our feet raw, when we finally got into billets in a big granary 
 on the bank of the Lys. 
 
 It was 9 :30 when we reached those billets in Deynze. We hur- 
 riedly threw down blankets on the meal-sacks and fell asleep, "caring 
 not a damn" whether we were in reserve or on the front. As a mat- 
 ter of fact we were in division reserve and only two kilometers from 
 the front line, — within easy shell-range, as was indicated by the occa- 
 sional flares and explosion of shells we had noticed as we came into 
 the town. 
 
 It seemed to us that no sooner had we fallen asleep than the 
 racuous voice of a sergeant reverberated through the great room. 
 Drowsily we turned over on our lumpy beds and cursed him for a 
 meddling fool. Why didn't he go to bed and shut up? But the ser- 
 geant was in earnest and finally we began to realize that it was some- 
 thing besides a mischievous prank. *'Get up ! We move in half an 
 hour. Get up ! you, and roll your packs !" Thus, one by one we were 
 routed out. It was 3 :30 A. M. What in the name of the devil were 
 we going to do? Wide awake now, and chuck full of venomous 
 thoughts which we didn't care to keep to ourselves, we rolled packs 
 and spouted invectives. 
 
 It was a strange mixture of anger and despair and a sense of 
 injustice that filled our hearts. We had eight or ten kilometers to 
 hike before daylight! 
 
 Fresh fuel was added to the fire of resentment that burned 
 hotly in our breasts, when we reached the courtyard below and had to 
 stand around in the cold. It was pitch-dark, and the tangle of mules, 
 carts, wagons and horses was never unraveled until daybreak. Then, 
 two hours late, the regiment started southeast out of Deynze. 
 
 Once on the road, our anger cooled, we accepted the situation 
 with our usual philosophy, and soon were in our habitual marching 
 mood, — joking, "chewing the rag," commentiug on the things we 
 saw, and singing snatches of songs. The rumor came that the enemy 
 had retreated a long distance under cover of darkness, and we, ac- 
 cordingly, had to move up so as to keep in touch with the front line. 
 
 We passed long lines of French infantry and artillery who were 
 returning from the front. They were in high spirits, singing and 
 whooping and shouting, "Finis la guerre !" "Finis la guerre !" 
 "Vive I'Amerique! Vive la France!" "Finis la guerre!" We 
 
 148 
 
laughed at them in derision, which only caused them to become 
 frantic in their efforts to convince us *'Oui ! Oui ! La guerre est 
 fini !" One American summed up our opinion of all this in two 
 words; a Poilu slung a volley of excited, jumbled explanations in 
 French at him and he replied, ''Aw, G'wan !" 
 
 At about 9:00 A. M. we halted and fell out in a bit of scrub 
 woods which offered concealment for our carts and animals. The 
 occasional reports of cannon and staccato **tap — tap — tap — tap" of 
 machine guns could be distinctly heard. "Finis la guerre !" 
 
 We laid under cover of this woods until 3 :00 P. M. and had a 
 hot meal at noon of bully-beef stew, coffee, bread and molasses. 
 Then after a three kilometer hike, we entered the village of Huysse 
 and were quartered in an old courtyard and the adjoining garden. 
 As it was unknown at what hour we might have to move on, we were 
 ordered to pitch pup-tents or make our beds in the open, as we chose, 
 but to be in "constant readiness to depart." That night there was 
 considerable shelling of the ridge fifty yards beyond the town. — 
 Finis la guerre ! 
 
 149 
 
YTHIEi4RMySTB£E: f 
 
 We were rather surprised when we awoke the next morning to 
 the reaHzation that we had not been disturbed during the night, and 
 that there were no signs at all of moving out. 
 
 That morning the French and Belgian soldiers, and even the 
 civilians, seemed clear ''beside themselves" with joy and excitement. 
 They assured us again and again that the war was over. At 11 :00 
 A. M. all fighting would cease. The Germans had signed the armis- 
 tice which had been offered in the nature of an ultimatum by General 
 Foch. We were frankly skeptical. Eleven o'clock came and went 
 almost unnoticed, so little faith did we have in what we called a wild 
 rumor. 
 
 Several hours afterward it began to dawn upon us that perhaps 
 there was something to the story. No firing had been heard since 
 that hour. We fought against allowing ourselves to believe, how- 
 ever, for the memory of our previous disappointment still rankled. 
 No official announcement had yet been made and we tried to brush 
 the tempting thoughts of peace from our minds. Later, our officers 
 assured us that the armistice was an established fact. Even then we 
 were not fully convinced. It was too good to be true. 
 
 It is difficult to say just when we did fully realize that the war, 
 so far as fighting was concerned, was over, so gradually did the 
 knowledge come. To say that we indulged in wild celebrations would 
 be a falsehood. No official bulletins were issued. We had nothing 
 but verbal statements to depend upon, and these we could not place 
 faith in. Perhaps full belief came when we got hold of a two-day 
 old newspaper, on November 13th, which described the effect upon 
 the world and the complete story of Germany's defeat. The greatest 
 day in the history of man had passed unknown to us ! 
 
 ISO 
 
Guess the Frogs and Belgies thought we were pro-German be- 
 cause we called them liars and wouldn't help them celebrate. 
 
 The boys in the front line resurrected an old baseball and cele- 
 brated by playing One Old Cat in No Man's Land. 
 
 Several days after the signing of the armistice we found out 
 that the boys of our division were chasing Jerry right up to the last 
 minute. They went over the top on the morning of the eleventh and 
 rambled two kilometers before the orders to cease hostilities came to 
 them. The old Thirty-Seventh was driving to the very end ! 
 
 Our Second Belgian Drive ended, the world went mad with joy, 
 and the Kaiser was "kapoot" at exactly the eleventh hour, the elev- 
 enth day of the eleventh month of the year. 
 
 The question uppermost in our minds at 1 1 :00 o'clock, Novem- 
 ber 11th, was, "When do we eat?" 
 
 Now that the chance of killing us off in battle was gone, some 
 arm-chair strategist started to kill us by drilling us. 
 
 Slatinsky (horseshoer) — "Wotta hell I care if war is over? I 
 gotta shoe these dam mules jus' same !" 
 
 Dainus — ''Yeah ! An' I can't get no more sooweneers !" 
 
 Vic — "Well, Ray, what are you going to do now that the war's 
 over?" 
 
 Johnson — "Go home and get married, I guess." 
 
 Vic — "Gosh, haven't you had enough fighting?" 
 
 Hamer Farrell hit it just about right. Several young privates 
 were building aircastles of an early trip home. 
 
 "You'll be lucky if you get home by next spring!" remarked 
 Hamer. 
 
 And they called him a pessimist ! ! 
 
 151 
 
Vujich was telling the Skipper about a French soldier he had 
 been talking with in a street in Huysse. 
 
 '*He was tell me like dis. He poundem chest and holler in 
 French he was four year in the war. Then he dance around like dis 
 — and holler, 'Fineesh la guerre, — me fineesh!' And he throwem 
 belt and canteen and rifle over fence !" 
 
 Richner, finally convinced that the war was over, got excited 
 and drank his milk straight instead of diluting it, as usual, with 
 water. This excess was too much for him, and he succumbed to the 
 effects of this powerful stimulant. He behaved so scandalously that 
 he nearly lost his quill. 
 
 "Well," remarked Pap Southworth, when asked what he thought 
 of the war now, "I'm sorry to say that I have not yet succeeded in 
 forcing the Cooties to sign an armistice. I have just read my shirt 
 and find to my sorrow that they have over-run the er Alsace- 
 Lorraine Sector and are advancing on Brest !" 
 
 For a whole week after the signing of the armistice the Frogs 
 and Belgies continued celebrating. Every night the countryside 
 was alight with rockets and flares, and the explosions of hand- 
 grenades and dynamite kept us in a constant state of apprehension 
 lest the wkr was starting again ! 
 
 152 
 
November i8th-November 21st 
 
 While we were at Huysse many rumors were abroad among the 
 men. Some said that we were going back to Thielt and thence to 
 France ; others that we were to follow the Germans through Belgmm 
 to the Rhine. 
 
 On Sunday, the 17th, a cloudy, cold day, we left the village at 
 3 -00 P M and hiked five or six kilometers to Syngem, where we 
 were billeted overnight in a small, unused schoolhouse. Next morn- 
 ing we marched ten kilometers to Hundelghem, m the direction ot 
 Brussels. It looked as though we were going to follow up the Huns, 
 sure enough The weather had continued cold and we encountered 
 light flurries of snow, which made the cobblestones wet and slippery, 
 and hiking very difficult. 
 
 At Hundelghem, a fairly large village, we were billeted in sev- 
 eral large barns, full of clean straw. Although these quarters were 
 cold and draughty, they were much better than any we had been m 
 for many weeks. Our kitchen was established under the covered 
 entry-way into the courtyard of an Estaiminet, or wineshop, near our 
 billets. 
 
 No dry fields were available for drill, so, during our stay here 
 we loafed about the town,— a state of affairs quite to our liking. We 
 expected any day to receive orders to proceed to Brussels, where the 
 division was to parade, but it was found impracticable to send the 
 entire organization. Instead, one thousand men, picked from every 
 company of the two infantry brigades, went to the Belgian capital 
 to represent the Thirty-Seventh in the review of Alhed armies by 
 King Albert. 
 
 "The Americans are wonderful soldiers," declared King Albert, 
 of Belgium, at Courtrai, in an interview given correspondents of the 
 American press on November 6th. He gave a message to the Amer- 
 ican people warmly praising the valor of the Yankee fighters. 
 
 "At first we knew the Americans only as great and sympathetic 
 friends, but now we know them as brothers in arms," continued the 
 King "I have followed the progress of the soldiers from Ohio and 
 the Pacific Coast, and they are wonderful. I am filled with admira- 
 tion for them. I want American people to know that I appreciate 
 
 153 
 
what their soldiers are doing for our poor stricken country, and also 
 the bountiful aid furnished by America in food and clothing!" 
 
 We made writing rooms out of the many Estaminets in Hundel- 
 ghem. You can't write a hot letter to your girl in a cold billet ! 
 
 The manure piles in the barnyards were so numerous and fra- 
 grant that we couldn't help thinking we were back in France. 
 
 We were still on French rations, but hot Belgian bread with 
 boo-coo butter kept us alive. 
 
 Waldo was reminiscencing. "When I left home," said he, ''they 
 laid off the six D. T.'s and two cops that they used to have to keep 
 on the job around Doan's Corners in Cleveland." 
 
 Continuing in the above vein, just to show us what a hard guy 
 he was in civil life, he said, "I used to play on a church basketball 
 team. One night we were playin' another church team and it devel- 
 oped into a sluggin' match. The crowd got excited when I slugged 
 one dude in the belly and the next thing I knew there was a minister 
 hangin' around my neck, and six girls tryin' to scalp me !" 
 
 See the cooks, K. P.'s and mess-sergeant about mysterious proc- 
 ess of converting sugar, candles and bread into cognac ! 
 
 154 
 
M^:ui\ 
 
 November 2^rd-Decemher 4th 
 
 Hundelgehm, Belgium, will always be remembered as the turn- 
 ing point in our lives which started our long, weary, slow progress 
 toward home. A change of orders for the division set us on the road 
 back toward the coast, while we had expected to move on to Brussels 
 and thence to the Rhine. 
 
 Leaving that village on the morning of Thursday, November 
 21st, we hiked back ten kilometers to Nazareth, where we were bil- 
 leted over night. The weather continued cold, especially at night, 
 and we found our barn-billets very cold and draughty. A heavy 
 hoar-frost encrusted the landscape when we awoke the next morning. 
 
 On that day we made one of the toughest hikes we had ever 
 experienced, traveling twenty-five kilometers over the terrible cobble- 
 stone roads. By the time we reached Deynze we were already foot- 
 sore and weary and extremely hungry, — we had had only a light 
 breakfast. Fortunately we halted to rest in the streets of that city, 
 and found that it had already sprung to life and, somehow, the stores 
 had secured a stock of foodstuffs. Such delicacies as chocolate and 
 grapes were to be^had in great plenty, though at tremendous prices, 
 and we crowded Into the shops to buy things to eat. Five or six 
 kilometers west of Deynze we turned south and were billeted in the 
 town of Wacken, just before dark. 
 
 Our weary journey was far from being completed. On the mor- 
 row we dragged twenty kilometers further to the western outskirts 
 of Iseghem. We neared our billets almost completely exhausted by 
 the strain of the last three days of marching ; many of the men had 
 bleeding feet (the effect of the hated English shoes). 
 
 Iseghem, a city of fourteen thousand, is located about seven kilo- 
 meters east of Roulers. Like Thielt, it contains many stores, all of 
 which were well stocked and open for business, although the place 
 was still in the process of readjustment after its recent release from 
 the enemy. There were also many restaurants and cafes open, and 
 an influx of questionable men and women was setting in ; the town 
 bemg full of French and American soldiers and money circulating 
 freely. 
 
 155 
 
Our billets were just outside the city limits in an old school- 
 building which had been damaged to some extent by the passage of 
 the battle-line a few weeks before. Practically all the windows were 
 out, making it a very cold and draughty place for sleeping. 
 
 When we came to Iseghem we fully expected to push on to 
 Roulers on the following day, but, although we lived in constant 
 suspense, orders did not come until December 3rd. Meanwhile, we 
 loafed and amused ourselves as best we could, usually in Iseghem, 
 until Regimental Headquarters despairingly put out a drill schedule. 
 We drilled one morning, it rained that afternoon and all the next 
 day, and we left on the following morning. Drill, therefore, troubled 
 us but little. 
 
 The first 'We're going to LeMans" rumor cropped up at Ise- 
 ghem. The worst of it is, we really believed we were going to en- 
 train for that place from Roulers ! 
 
 Private Harley VanScoit was a neat dresser. He had smuggled 
 a nice pair of russet shoes through all our vicissitudes. Private 
 George Tepper, assistant to the supply sergeant, at Iseghem, found 
 out he had them and tried to "bull" him into turning them in. Scoit 
 was too wise for him and George, the would-be neat dresser, got 
 fooled in his nefarious plot. 
 
 Decker went into a drug store in Iseghem. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "I would like to get something for the cooties." 
 
 "Oui ! Oui ! Toot-suite !" 
 
 He brought forth a bottle of light colored liquid and Deck parted 
 with ten francs. When he got back to the billets he went to his in- 
 terpreter, Schneck, and asked him to read the label. Schneck read 
 the following : "Castor Oil — Very Nice for Infants !" 
 
 "I walked into Private William Blakeman's billet," says Pap 
 Southworth, "and found him sitting on his bunk with his undershirt 
 on his knee." 
 
 "What's the matter, Bill?" I asked. 
 
 "Well, I've lost my first-sergeant cootie and three first-class 
 privates in a skirmish near the Toul sector," he replied. 
 
 "Don't let that worry you, Bill," I told him. "I have a full com- 
 pany and I'll gladly lend you some." 
 
 "Fine !" says Bill. "I'll be able to pay you back tomorrow morn- 
 
 ing!" 
 
 156 
 
Somewhere in this book we made quite a fuss over the kindness 
 of the Belgians. We also remarked that unfortunately there are 
 mercenary persons among the best of people. 
 
 At Iseghem, a certain private went with a comrade to a restau- 
 rant and ordered up a meal ; nothing unusual about that, as we were 
 on French rations. It cost ten francs for the two orders of steak 
 and potatoes. A day or so later the troops in Iseghem were paid and 
 francs began to flow freely. The two soldiers went back to the same 
 restaurant. (French rations again had their goat.) They ordered 
 up the same meal. This time the petite little waitress ''horsed around 
 a bit," so to speak. She patted the private's cheek coquettishly, and 
 murmured in his ear, "Vingt franc, Monsieur, sil-vous-plait !" which 
 was her pretty way of collecting twenty francs. 
 
 Now, an American soldier never argues over prices. Although 
 dumfounded at this camouflaged robbery, the soldier paid. 
 
 But — as he went out the door he slipped a quart of cognac under 
 his overcoat, and beat it, whistling contentedly. 
 
 "Do unto others as they do unto you," we might say, amending 
 the Golden Rule. 
 
 French rations seemed to metamorphose into Chinese rations at 
 Iseghem. Somebody must have gotten a corner on rice, drugged 
 Uncle Sam, and unloaded the world's supply on the Machine Gun 
 Company, or else the Q. M. C. and M. P.'s wouldn't eat it! 
 
 There were many cafes in Iseghem which suddenly blossomed 
 forth, after our arrival, with wine, women and song. Most of them 
 were run by French brigands, one in particular being operated by a 
 trio ^yho looked capable of anything from kidnaping to house- 
 breaking. 
 
 There were two men and a woman. From the looks of the lay- 
 out this dame was playing the part of the siren. They made a mis- 
 take there; only Frogs like "fat ones." She was 'an extra full 
 bosomed skirt with a prodigious waist and other bovine proportions. 
 Apparently she was about thirty years old, but judging from actions 
 one might think she was nineteen. She wore clothes, except on her 
 neck and shoulders. These clothes extended south to a point a bit 
 below her knees, exposing large means of support. Her job was to 
 give the boys the "come hither" look and peddle the wine. 
 
 The first of the two men was a particularly brigandish-looking 
 brigand with a sharp pointed black moustache and black curly hair. 
 His job was apparently that of floor-walker and chucker-out. 
 
 157 
 
The other of the trio was the most mysterious and fascinating 
 of the lot. He reminded one of the pictures, in magazines, of Paris 
 Apaches. His job was to furnish the music, which he did in an in- 
 imitable manner. A lean, wiry little fellow, in a close-fitting jersey 
 sweater, with black straight hair parted in the middle and curving 
 down beside his eyes, he was always seen perched upon a stool on 
 top of a table, wringing outlandish music from an accordion and 
 keeping time with a fascinating serpentine swaying of the body and 
 humping of the shoulders. The most fascinating trait of this queer 
 dude, however, was his habit of gazing unblinkingly straight ahead 
 at nothing at all. If some excited Frog tried to fondle the made- 
 moiselle ( ?) he never batted an eye. If the chucker-out chucked 
 someone out he never flicked an ear. As for the chattering, clatter- 
 ing mob of dancers, wiggling and cavorting through the shimmy- 
 shiver, he paid not the least attention to them. He was a being apart. 
 
 Few Americans were made fools of by attempting to dance with 
 the many mademoiselles in the crowd. It wasn't dancing as we knew 
 it in America, it was just a mad drunken whirl. We crowded into 
 that cafe to watch the Froggies dance, but the thing that attracted 
 us most was the sinuous swaying and wild music of the sphinx- 
 like, black-eyed, seductive musician. 
 
 American girls wouldn't have worried so much over the danger 
 of French and Belgian mademoiselles beguiling their boys if they 
 could have happened to stand near one of the average type in a 
 crowd and noticed the high-water mark on her neck and the grimy 
 top of her undershirt (s'pose we ought to blush at mentioning un- 
 mentionables) peeping out around it. 
 
 Many of us got baths at Iseghem in the ''Officers' Baths" for- 
 merly used by the Germans. Tile bath tubs, tile walls and floor, 
 nickel plated fixtures, showers, hot water ! Oh, boy! 
 
 Quaedypre 
 
 December yth-Decemher 17th 
 
 On the misty, warm morning of Wednesday, December 4th, we 
 left Iseghem and hiked over the muddy, slippery cobbles to Roulers 
 and thence to Staden, the town in which we had first been billeted in 
 Belgium. Our dream of entraining for LeMans at Roulers was 
 rudely shattered. 
 
 Spending the night at Staden, which town we found in the same 
 condition it had been in a month and a half ago, we rose early and 
 
 158 
 
made light packs. We were to hike forty kilometers across the old 
 No Man's Land, and arrangements had been made to carry our 
 blanket-rolls on trucks. 
 
 Forty kilometers over a broken land such as had been described 
 before in this book is a terrible ordeal even under light packs. A 
 glance at the map and the tracing of our route through the former 
 towns of Langhemarck, Boesinghe, Elverdinghe and Poperinghe to 
 Proven, coupled with the information that we were on the road, 
 marching steadily, for eleven and a half hours, and that when we 
 reached our destination forty per cent of the men had bleeding feet, 
 is sufficient to make the reader understand why we term it the worst 
 hike in our history ; worse, even, that the memorable hike from the 
 Badonviller front to Housseras. We started from Staden at 8 :30 A. 
 M. and arrived in Proven, thirty kilometers east of Dunkirk, at 8:00 
 P. M. 
 
 We were assigned to a cluster of wooden barracks, a former 
 English camp, and after getting our blanket rolls from the pile where 
 they had been dumped off the truck, we at once made up our bunks 
 and went to sleep. Most of us were too weary to try to eat the 
 supper of Canned WilHe. bread, and coffee our kitchen prepared. 
 
 Proven was nothing but a mud-hole, and we were too much dis- 
 gusted with affairs to be interested in it. We heard that we were to 
 entrain, presumably for LeMans, at a nearby railhead, but that rurrK)r 
 failed to cause more than a ripple of sarcastic comment. 
 
 On the morning of December 7th we again took the road, this 
 time under our usual full-pack, and hiked across the frontier into 
 France. Early in the afternoon we reached the village of Ouaed- 
 ypre, having marched seventeen kilometers. 
 
 Quaedypre, a small community containing three or four stores 
 and as many wineshops, is situated about five kilometers southeast 
 of the ancient city of Bergues. Because of the difficulty in securing 
 billets, the regiment was scattered over a wide area on the little 
 farms surrounding the town. Our company was billeted in two 
 parts ; half the men were put in the loft of an old barn and the others 
 in a cement floored barracks which had been left unfinished by the 
 British. The place was absolutely open at all sides to the cold air. 
 With only one blanket apiece it is not strange that we had a pretty 
 chilly time of it while we were there. 
 
 Under pressure of orders, some attempt was made to drill us a 
 few days after we arrived, but we did not exert ourselves to any 
 great degree. We whiled away our spare time with cards and shoot- 
 ing crap, or sought amusement in the cafes of the town. 
 
 159 
 
(Apologies to Walt Mason.) 
 
 When I signed up to do my bit, for Uncle Sam, you know, I 
 wore civilian shoes that fit and never scraped a toe. To walk the 
 streets in rubber heels was easy as Sam Hill ; we danced the Jazz and 
 sundry reels and danced 'em fit to kill. The Army gave me russet 
 shoes ; at first I thought them rummies ; when I set out to make a 
 cruise they felt like two big mummies. A few days' use and they 
 were "jake," and when our Stunt Night came, the dance steps I could 
 safely take with ne'er a thought of shame. At Sheridan they wished 
 on me a pair of army hobs. I drilled at first in misery ; the hobnails 
 felt like knobs. To do squads east and west was then almost too 
 much for me, because I couldn't watch them when I held a pivot, 
 see? But gradually I mastered those and handled 'em with ease. 
 Our camp life soon came to a close ; they shipped us o'er the seas. 
 The Yankee hob we've learned to like ; it's tried and proven fine ; it 
 is our friend on weary hike, or service in the line. But Belgian 
 service introduced a boot that causes woes. These English shoes 
 hurt like the deuce, with heel-plates on the toes. Top Sergeant 
 Clough was 'roused one night and donned them in a hurry ; he got 
 the left one for the right, but he said, "I should worry." They work 
 both ways that's true, we know, but when all's said and done, that 
 doesn't help relieve the toe; besides, they weigh a ton. So when we 
 sail for home again, with Yank shoes on our feet, we'll weep for 
 English army men, and for the love of Pete, let's hope that English 
 shoes at home don't change to these in style, for if they do, we cannot 
 roam toward the Salvage Pile ! — VAN. 
 
 A severe and protracted epidemic of African Golf (genus 
 Shootcrapus) began to appear in the company the day we were paid 
 at Quaedypre. Prior to this time this virulent disease, the despair of 
 doting mothers, ministers, and poker sharps, was confined to such 
 creatures in the company as cooks, K. P.'s buglers, and the mess ser- 
 geant. Others had been infected from time to time, but heretofore 
 the malady had never entrapped more than fifty per cent of the men. 
 
 160 
 
At Quaedypre ninety-nine per cent of the company fell. Sergeant 
 Bernard Roney was the only one who successfully resisted it. 
 
 African Golf is easily distinguishable by its startling effect. 
 The victims invariably gather about a folded blanket laid on the 
 floor or ground, and in the course of the next several hours con- 
 duct themselves like a Holy Roller Society, emitting shouts, yells, 
 and considerable profanity while they conjure one another with 
 such remarks (enunciated with intense feeling facilitated by acro- 
 batic feats of facial distortion and accompanied by snapping of the 
 fingers) as — "Come seven!" — ''Crap him!" — "Read 'em and weep!" 
 — "Baby wants a new pair of shoes!" — "Ho, feeber!" — "Big Dick!" 
 — "Hit 'im natural!" — "Joe fer me an' I'll never drag!" — "Ninety 
 days in the pie-house with a muzzle on" — and others too numerous 
 to mention. 
 
 There is no cure for one who has fallen completely a victim 
 of Shootcrapus, except that well known tonic, "Finishfrancs." 
 
 A brass rail is not an absolutely necessary adjunct to a good 
 ^stew." 
 
 The ancient city of Bergues, surrounded by fifty-foot walls 
 and a wide deep moat, was guarded at the three entrances by mis- 
 guided M. P.s. This, however, did not prevent such enterprising 
 individuals as Waldo Clough (our peerless top-sergeant). Sergeant 
 Cater, Privates Ray Johnson, Humpy Turner, Coleman, and several 
 others, from finding a place to cross the moat and then scaling the 
 wall by getting a fallen tree for a ladder. Sergeant Richner tried, 
 but got cold feet and quit. 
 
 On the hike between Staden and Proven Vic Norris, right guide, 
 was marching beside Lieutenant Fri, and smoking his pipe. The 
 lieutenant does not smoke and his delicate nostrils were offended. 
 He asked Sergeant Clough "if there wasn't some rule against 
 smoking on the March." Clough said there was not. The lieutenant 
 then went back to see the skipper about it, but must have received 
 the same answer for he looked very sour and marched a yard or 
 two ahead in order to escape the noxious fumes. 
 
 While on the march through the old No Man's Land we 
 passed an old skull which lay by the roadside. A captain in the 
 Medical Detachment, riding ahorse just ahead of the column, saw 
 it and asked Sergeant Clough to hand it up to him. Clough did 
 
 161 
 
so, and after examining it, the captain hung it to his saddle by the 
 empty eye-socket and said he'd take it home as a souvenir. A 
 private heard him make the remark and shouted : 
 
 "How old was the guy that owned that skull?" 
 
 "Oh, about twenty-eight," replied the captain. 
 
 "That's a hell of a time for a man to lose his head, ain't it?'* 
 
 All the hikes and delays and disappointments that were loaded 
 upon us couldn't squelch those day dreams and night dreams of 
 home, the festive board, and our girl. 
 
 When we get home we'll refuse to sleep in our nice bed ; we'll 
 demand a shakedown of dirty straw, out in the chicken coop. We 
 will not cuss the Y. M. C. A. We will demand that Mother give 
 us half-cooked rice, oily bacon, weak coffee, and dirty bread for 
 breakfast, slum for dinner, and cold beans for supper. We will 
 deny ourselves even the light of a candle at night. We will "revel" 
 at 5:30 every morning. (The foregoing is a damn lie!) 
 
 A certain Major is reputed to have ridden his horse into a 
 cafe in Bergues and raised Cain in general. The M. P.s hauled 
 him in and let him adorn a cell in the old dungeon until he got over 
 his little jag. He was subsequently severely reprimanded and 
 given extra duty. (First time we ever heard of an officer 
 getting that.) 
 
 He vented his spleen upon about a dozen privates, whom he 
 picked up in Quaedypre, by making them clean up the streets. 
 It is interesting to observe the vagaries of some officers and the 
 result upon the men. 
 
 162 
 
December lyth- January 12th 
 
 Another dream — that of entraining at Bergues for the illusive 
 city of LeMans — was rudely shattered on the seventeenth. Instead, 
 we marched sixteen kilometers through Esquelbecq, near Worm- 
 houdt, to the village of Arneke on the Dunkirk-Hazebrouck rail- 
 road. The problem of billeting was difficult, as around Quaedypre, 
 and consequently the regiment was scattered over a large area. 
 The main body of our company went into former British Barracks, 
 just within the limits of the town and close to the railroad. 
 
 These barracks were of a type commonly used by the British 
 Army and were known as "Baby Elephants," or "Bow-huts." 
 Their construction was very simple; a wooden floor, about fifteen 
 feet wide and thirty feet long, was surmounted by a semi-circular 
 roof of corrugated iron, the highest point of the arch being about 
 seven feet, and the open ends of the shelter thus formed boarded 
 up. There were two windows of salvaged aeroplane fabric in each 
 end and a single wooden door in one end. The huts numbered 
 seven or eight in all and were set in a double row, forming a sort 
 of street. One or two others stood off by themselves in the field. 
 An English Y. M. C. A. Hut was right next door to these billets 
 and our cooks found a British kitchen and messhall all ready for 
 our use, thus making it unnecessary to cook out in the open on our 
 rolling kitchen. It was a novelty to us to have tables to eat at; 
 we were more accustomed to squatting on our heels in mud or 
 setting our messkits on wagon tongues and logs. 
 
 The British Y. M. C. A. provided us a good lounging place. 
 It contained writing tables, a small library, and a piano, and such 
 things as cocoa, cakes, candles, matches, and milk were on sale 
 at very reasonable prices. Later on, an American Y. M. C. A. 
 opened up in the town, but the majority of us stuck to the little 
 English Hut during spare hours. There were a few British 
 soldiers in the town doing engineering work and we found them 
 to be mighty fine fellows. They came often to the Hut and we 
 enjoyed meeting and talking with them. 
 
 Arneke was a muddy, dirty, sprawling village ; drab, uninterest- 
 ing, and slow. It was so boresome that we wondered how on earth 
 
 163 
 
people could bear living their lives in such a place. There were 
 few stores — a couple of groceries, four or five wineshops, and two 
 restaurants or tea rooms, as they are called by the Tommies. 
 
 We were fated to remain in this place until after the New 
 Year, although fortunately for our peace of mind, we did not 
 know that when we came. The weather was simply rotten ; it 
 rained every day and the roads and fields were a sea of mud. In 
 spite of these conditions half-hearted attempts were made to drill 
 us ; these usually ended, after a half hour of calisthenics, in a game 
 of some kind, and we then retired to our billets for the rest of 
 the day. 
 
 Let us explain at once that the game we usually played after 
 calisthenics is known by an approbrious name which we could only 
 state at the risk of being soundly censured by the Censor. How- 
 ever, by the use of perfectly legitimate literary camouflage we can 
 impart the desired information by calling the game ''Torrid Zone." 
 The torrid zone is produced in an unfortunate comrade by chasing* 
 him diligently around a circle of men, encouraging him to gallop 
 at high rate of speed by vigorous applications of a waist-belt to 
 his nether portions. This zone can be made torrid by accidently 
 using the buckle-end instead of the free end of the belt. However, 
 attractive this amusement may seem we must warn the uninitiated 
 that it is not wise for Young Ladies' Clubs to attempt to play it. 
 
 Remember the Estaminet at the corner of the Rue de la Gare 
 and the main street of Arneke? And the petite mademoiselle with 
 that snug, blue sweatercoat? 
 
 On the morning of the 23rd Mademoiselle's papa asked her: 
 
 "Who was here with you last night?" 
 
 "Well — er — Marie was here, father." 
 
 "Well, tell Marie she's left her belt and spurs under the sofa." 
 
 (Note: Lt. Fri. remarked on the morning of the 23rd while in 
 one of the bowhuts that he thought "She was a very beautiful girl.") 
 
 Oh, Pussy-foot ! You li'l rascal ! 
 
 Dainus, after drinking three bottles of Vin Blanc: 
 "Hell with dat Bond Winn. . . . Gimme Coneeack!' 
 
 Seaman was broke, but not without resource. He went into 
 the English "Y" Hut at Arneke and solicited "clankers" for a "poor 
 family named Smith." Seaman missed his profession. He should 
 have been a solicitor of funds for the Y. M. C. A. 
 
 164 
 
When we hit Arneke, a meal of tough steak and ''chips" cost 
 us three francs ; a week later it cost four francs ; then it rose to 
 five francs; and the day we left, the poor poverty-stricken Frogs, 
 who had only been making two hundred francs a day, kindly let 
 us pay six francs! 
 
 The Vinegar Blink that was sold in Arneke became Vinegar 
 Blink au I'Eau a week after we arrived. 
 
 Christmas — 1918 
 
 Christmas Day, as far as outward manifestations are concerned, 
 passed rather quietly. We had a late breakfast and spent the 
 morning, as was our habit on other days, washing, shaving and 
 loafing. Some of us, who needed new shoes, walked a couple of 
 kilometers to the supply dump to get them. 
 
 At 2:30 P. M. we had a good meal of meat-balls, mashed 
 potatoes and gravy, salad, and cocoa. Having tucked that comfort- 
 ably under our belts we were called into the messhall by the Cap- 
 tain. A supply of little kit-bags had come to us from the Red 
 Cross, but unfortunately there were not sufficient available to give 
 one to each man. The Skipper therefore arranged a lottery, and 
 for the men who lost out on Red Cross Bags there was stick-candy 
 in large tin boxes. The Y. M. C. A. issued a package of cakes, a 
 pack of ''Camels," a can of "P. A." and a bar of chocolate to each 
 man, and the K. of C. sent us a box of cigarettes apiece. 
 
 As for the inner side of Christmas — the part locked deep 
 within a fellow's heart — who can tell exactly what thoughts were 
 passing behind the mask of the habitually cheerful countenances 
 of "the boys"? They looked no different, they acted no different, 
 yet it is safe to say that all of them were thinking more than usual 
 of the home folks, of Christmases gone by, and thanking God that 
 they weren't driving through shell and machine gun fire in that wet 
 cold weather that typifies winter in France. 
 
 'Tis the day after Christmas, 
 Last night we were "tanks"; 
 
 Today we are sober. 
 But minus our francs ! 
 
 Speaking of Christmas makes us remember with a start that 
 we never noticed the passing of Thanksgiving Day ! 
 
 165 
 
Some one of that bunch who call themselves the **Dirty Dozen" 
 (among them Seaman, Freiter, Red Felkey, and others) conceived 
 the idea that Christmas Eve wouldn't be complete without Christmas 
 carols. The result was a parade and snake dance through the 
 billets, each man with a lighted candle. Then they went over town 
 and serenaded the Captain and the Colonel. A band of professional 
 thugs, boot-leggers, second-story artists, and con-men attending a 
 church-social could be no more incongruous than the singing by 
 these **hard-guys" of that charming little ditty, "Up on the house- 
 tops, click, click, click! Down through the chimney comes old 
 Saint Nick !" 
 
 New Year's Day— 1919 
 
 We celebrated New Year's Eve with Vinegar Blink and Cognac. 
 Some of the boys paraded around the billets pounding tin cans and 
 old kettles, yowling songs, and raking the corrugated iron of the 
 Bowhuts with sticks, producing a pandemonium and racket quite 
 befitting the occasion. On New Year's Day a field meet and machine 
 gun contest was held with companies of the Machine Gun Battalion, 
 and following a good dinner the Captain read the first Division 
 order of the New Year, which stated that we would sail for the 
 U. S. A. on the 30th of January. The text of the order was as 
 follows : *'The Division Commander wishes the 37th Division a 
 happy New Year upon receipt of information that the Division 
 sails for home on January 30th, 1919." Did we cheer? Boy, the 
 natives thought we were going nutty ! 
 
 On the second of January the Regimental Show was put on 
 for our benefit at the Y. M. C. A. Though costumes and scenery 
 were necessarily makeshift, their performance was a scream from 
 beginning to end. Songs, new and old, and all "catchy," together 
 with comedians and a stringed instrument four, held our interest 
 for two good hours. Mike Patras, in a German helmet and jacket 
 and false whiskers, made a hit with his song, "She never came back, 
 she never came back, she never came back any more!" Rats 
 Waters cavorted in the chorus, and Red Angell pulled the curtains. 
 
 166 
 
A straight road. 
 
 The Kitchen on a drive. 
 
 O'Bannon with a quill out. 
 
 Richner with a quill in. 
 
 Coleman without Johnson. 
 
 Johnson without Coleman. 
 
 Supply Sergeant Frye with something you wanted. 
 
 Reber with his face washed. 
 
 Paul Cater with his mouth shut. 
 
 Freiter — ditto. 
 
 Tepper without a rumor. 
 
 Bath-houses. 
 
 Kid — Kid who ? — why, Kid Gloves ! 
 
 The Inside of a First Class Coach. 
 
 Decent sized towns. 
 
 Pie. 
 
 Norris without a pipe in his face. 
 
 Vandy's commission. 
 
 Gus Miller in a hurry. 
 
 ''Rouge" Hall with a cool head — how could a red-head be cool? 
 
 "Stevey" without 'Top." 
 
 Kid Baxter not ready to battle. 
 
 A German division we couldn't lick to a frazzle — we never 
 
 met one! 
 Furloughs to Paris. 
 An M. P. we liked. 
 Specs without a story to tell. 
 
 Fugleman when he wasn't tinkering with a shell or a grenade. 
 Anybody near him when he was tinkering! 
 A taller man than Pete Mumy or Jesse Chisnell. 
 Angell, the curtain puller, without a damphool remark. 
 A light pack. 
 
 167 
 
On the third of January we received an awful jolt. The 
 British gave us notice to get out of their Bowhuts, as they were 
 going to tear them down. We were up the creek without a paddle. 
 Lieutenant Fri got excited and chased us out ahead of time to a 
 leaky old barn. The weather was raw and cold and we resented 
 the change. About half the company sought their own billets — 
 some went back to the Bowhuts to stay until actually kicked out, 
 others slept in the box-cars on siding on the railroad, and a few 
 secured rooms and regular beds in private houses. Leave it to an 
 American soldier to take care of himself! 
 
 168 
 
January ij-February iph 
 
 The cars in which we were to leave Arneke were expected 
 January 11th, but failed to show up until 6:00 A. M., January 12th. 
 Leaving at 11:15 A. M. we traveled through Bergues, Dunkirk, 
 and Bourborg and then turned south, passing the outskirts of 
 Calais and Boulogne before night-fall. We traveled steadily all 
 night and the next day, passing through the large towns of Rouen 
 and Laigle, and stopping at dusk in the city of Alencon. Here we 
 dropped the cars bearing our mules and carts and proceeded in a 
 westerly direction over a branch railroad to Pre-en-Pail where we 
 were billeted. 
 
 We were now in the LeMans Area for troops scheduled to 
 embark for the United States. The city of LeMans, itself, we never 
 entered. It lay about fifty kilometers directly south of Alencon, 
 
 Pre-en-Pail was destined to be the graveyard of our hopes, 
 for the thirtieth of January passed and we failed to move to a port. 
 Black gloom and crusty skepticism now settled over us. Rumors 
 died out for lack of fertile ground. We scoffed and reviled and 
 finally became indifferent. Home never seemed farther away, and 
 few of us could muster up the ambition to write letters. Is it any 
 wonder that men in the company who had never gambled or 
 touched liquor before let the bars down and shot crap or inhabited 
 wineshops with the rest of us hardened sinners? 
 
 Delousing 
 
 Delousing! It began at Pre-en-Pail and we never heard the 
 end of it until we reached home. Heretofore we had been content 
 to keep our cooties down to a minimum number, say two or three 
 thousand. We had become so used to these little visitors that we'd 
 have been lonesome without them. Nothing gives one such a con- 
 tented, homelike feeling as the sight of a comrade placidly reducing 
 his tribe of insects to the desired number by stripping off his under- 
 
 169 
 
shirt and cornering them in the various sectors. The kindred feeling 
 is irresistible and we ourselves begin to itch deliciously until we 
 get into the ring also. Competition as to who can produce the 
 largest and fattest coots lends enchantment to the game. Now, 
 however, we had to begin on them in dead earnest. Everybody 
 wanted to go home, and we knew we couldn't take them with us. 
 
 On January 21st we rolled our packs and hiked fifteen kilo- 
 meters to the delouser at St. Denis. Here we got a sort of bath, 
 and our clothes and blankets were put in a delouser under live 
 steam. The shower baths were a mere single fine stream of warm 
 water and usually were cut off just when we were nicely soaped 
 up ! The delouser presumably killed the cooties, but we found out 
 quickly enough that it only got about half of them. 
 
 Greenleaf cussed because his clothes came out barely warm 
 and the cooties still ready for business. He swore it was a damned 
 cootie incubator — not a delouser. 
 
 Krueger left a cake of soap in his blouse pocket and it came 
 out a pocketful of "goo." 
 
 Harry Cater was running around like a mad dog when the 
 water was shut off. He had his eyes full of soap and couldn't find 
 his towel. 
 
 We took the mules and carts with us to carry our packs and 
 men from the line companies thought we were taking the mules to 
 be deloused! 
 
 On the hike to the delouser Vandivort was talking to a French 
 soldier during a halt for rest. He wore the Croix de Guerre. 
 
 *'You get those issued with your rations, don't you?" asked 
 Vandy with an innocent expression on his face. 
 
 *'Oui, Oui !" replied the Frog, feeling that he was being highly 
 complimented. 
 
 Vandy and Eli Turner tore their breeches so as to get new 
 ones. Alas, they were S. O. L. for all they issued at the delouser 
 was underwear and socks! 
 
 170 
 
Dunn was busy starting the fire in one of the mule leader's 
 billets. The Captain came in, but Dunn was so interested in the 
 fire that he failed to look up. 
 
 "Who's in charge of this billet?" asked the Skipper. 
 
 Dunn did not recognize his voice. 
 
 "I am," he snapped, without getting up or turning around. 
 "What the hell do you want?" 
 
 "Stand up and I'll talk to you !" 
 
 Then Dunn woke up. Jumping to his feet, he saluted half a 
 dozen times, and murmured, "Pardon me, pardon me ! Pardon me, 
 sir! — I thought you were Bigler!" 
 
 171 
 
February i8-March 4th 
 
 The move from Pre-en-Pail to Fye was made on foot, but our 
 packs, now so heavy because of recent additions to our equipment, 
 were taken on trucks — we carried only one blanket and a slicker 
 on our backs. We skirted Alencon, marching southwest, and, having 
 hiked twenty kilometers, were billeted overnight near the village of 
 Moline. A short hike — nine or ten kilometers — brought us to our 
 destination about noon the next day. 
 
 The main portion of Fye was a kilometer distant from our 
 billets, which were in a cluster of houses around a junction of two 
 roads. Fye is one of the most commonplace, dull, and uninterest- 
 ing towns in which we were ever unfortunate enough to be billeted. 
 Our life there was equally dull — practically the only diversions were 
 falling in for mess thrice daily and congregating in a stuffy wine- 
 shop in the evenings. Some of the burden of existence was lifted 
 whenever we could secure the band to crowd into the wineshop and 
 play for us while we danced with one another or with the hotel 
 chambermaid. That mademoiselle had the time of her young life 
 with so many men vying for her. With a couple of field inspections 
 thrown in, our dissatisfaction with life was complete. The two 
 weeks we spent in Fye were nothing more than a blank in our 
 existence. 
 
 More Cootie Hunts 
 
 On second thought it must be said that our existence at Fye 
 was not entirely a blank — the cooties continued to hold the center 
 of the stage. Cooties are most persistent little ''animals." The 
 delousing we got at Pre-en-Pail had merely jolted them and by the 
 time we reached Fye they had multipled to a greater number than 
 before. "Cootie Orders" from Headquarters now began to come 
 in. We were instructed to get rid of them by any means available. 
 We were advised "to press the seams of our clothing with hot 
 irons", — but no one could tell us where to get the irons ! Our com- 
 pany settled down to a systematic cootie hunt, the extermination 
 being aided by an improvised delouser and bath-house. Cootie in- 
 spections were held and the names of men having cooties were 
 posted on the bulletin board at the kitchen. We were quite rid of 
 them — we thought — when 'we left Fye. 
 
 172 
 
«fffKmf/;M¥rfflrnt{iH{raMtTO?flii!iLrft<L.m 
 
 March ^th- March 20th 
 
 Thanks to the foresight and thoughtfulness of the Captain, we 
 made the hike of twelve kilometers from Fye to the railhead at 
 Beaumont with ease. He arranged, after failing to secure trucks, 
 to have our packs hauled on wagons which he hired from a French 
 civilian. When we passed other companies who were sweating 
 under full packs we realized and appreciated our good fortune. 
 
 At Beaumont we picked up our packs and, after receiving hot 
 cocoa, cookies, and cigarettes from the Y. M. C. A., went aboard 
 the troop-train. When we saw that we were to have real American 
 box-cars a murmur of approval went from lipe to lip, but, alas, when 
 we found that fifty-eight men went in each car we could see that 
 we would be no better off than we had been in French troop-trains. 
 Probably the only advantage was that instead of having to subsist 
 on travel-rations, or "iron-rations," as we called them, we were 
 fed hot meals from the kitchen cars with which the train was 
 equipped. 
 
 The train left Beaumont as scheduled at 1 :42 P. M., and we 
 ate our supper at Laval. We ran into heavy rain which forced us 
 to keep the car doors closed, much to our discomfort and dissatis- 
 faction. During the night we passed through Rennes, traveling 
 steadily west. Late the following morning we arrived at Morlaix 
 and halted for a few moments on the high bridge that spans the 
 valley in which the city is built. The view of this ancient town far 
 below us was a most pleasing sight. We were on a level with the 
 highest church spires, and the people in the streets below looked 
 like pygmies. Morlaix is a comparatively short distance from 
 Brest, and at 12 :30 P. M. we saw again the arm of the bay where 
 we had landed in France nine long months before. The sight 
 cheered us, not because we liked Brest — we detested it — but because 
 beyond Brest was the broad Atlantic, and Home. 
 
 Rain and mud go together, and are the worst plague a soldier 
 knows. We had rain and mud for our greeting at Brest. Leaving 
 the train we marched to a semi-shelter, open partially at the sides, 
 and unslung our packs. Then we went to the Embarkation Kitchens 
 
 173 
 
and had our noon meal. These kitchens had not been there when 
 we landed in Brest the summer before; they were one of the many 
 improvements which we were to see. 
 
 After we had been fed we shouldered our packs and started 
 on the hike up the long hill to the heights on which lay the camp. 
 We had foreseen this hike and dreaded it, for the memory of our 
 former experience was clearly outlined in our minds. On our 
 backs, this time, we had the heaviest packs we had ever known, and 
 it was almost a full hour of back-breaking work before we reached 
 the summit of the hill. The camp could be seen in the distance. 
 When we had last viewed this bit of land it had been barren pas- 
 tures and dirt-walls and hedges. Now, what a change ! We saw 
 a vast expanse of dun colored squad tents that reached to the hori- 
 zon. There were barracks and warehouses, kitchens and mess-halls 
 in profusion, and as many more under course of construction. The 
 roads were teeming with trucks and men. Steam-rollers were at 
 work re-enforcing the road with stones crushed by great stone- 
 crushers. German prisoners of war and American negroes and 
 road-engineers were at work with shovels and picks. And all this 
 where we had pitched pup-tents last June ! 
 
 We were quartered in tents near the far end of camp, in section 
 No. 87. True to its reputation, the place was a sea of mud. How- 
 ever, the tents were floored with wood, and a network of duck- 
 boards provided foot paths, so we did not mind the mud so much. 
 This campe at Brest, Camp Pontanezen it is called, has been much 
 maligned in the newspapers. Some of this criticism is warranted, 
 yet everyone seems to forget that the building of such a huge camp 
 with such speed as was required was a task of stupendous propor- 
 tions. The constant rains and nature of the soil, coupled with the 
 difficulty of draining the dirt-walled pastures, made it doubly diffi- 
 cult. Although there was mud galore at Brest, we have lived under 
 worse conditions. We infinitely preferred good tents, cots, and 
 stoves in a sea of mud bridged by duckboards to the cold, lousy 
 barn-billets we had lived in before ! 
 
 The weather being so rainy and cold, we were issued two extra 
 blankets, making five in all for each man, and provided with bed- 
 ticks filled with dry grass or hay. Wood and coal for the conical 
 ironstoves was issued daily. We were fed at the troop-kitchens 
 of which there were a dozen or more in camp. Each of these 
 kitchens took care of approximately ten thousand men at each meal. 
 
 There were Y. M. C. A. huts and canteens, U. S. Commissaries, 
 K. of C. halls, and Salvation Army tents scattered throughout the 
 camp. Amusement, usually motion-pictures, was provided at these 
 halls every evening. The Salvation Army, with free cocoa and 
 doughnuts, made a particular hit with us. 
 
 174 
 
We wouldn't have minded Brest so much if it hadn't been for 
 details. Sixty, eighty, or a hundred men a day had to be sent out 
 from the company at the orders of the camp officials. Each division 
 had to contribute all possible to the improvement of the camp as 
 it passed through on the way home. We did everything from 
 ditch-digging to painting roofs and our clothes were in a sorry con- 
 dition as a result when it came time to embark. 
 
 On Friday, March 7th, we had our first cootie inspection. The 
 entire regiment was inspected, a company at a time. We marched 
 into a large empty building, stripped off our coats and shirts, and 
 peeled our undershirts up over our heads as the inspecting officer 
 passed. 
 
 Swihart, Sylvia, Donahue, Harry Cater, and Krueger had 'em ! 
 Poor boys, they had to be shaved. 
 
 Lieutenant Colonel Charles C. Chambers, our former captain, 
 paid Captain Wedow a visit on the eleventh. He called in many 
 of the old Cleveland boys and gave them the glad hand. He was 
 particularly happy because he was to sail for home the next day. 
 
 On the night of Wednesday, March 12th, we went through the 
 camp delouser. Our clothing was hung on movable racks, and while 
 we were under the showers, was subjected to a dry heat of exceed- 
 ingly high temperature. We went through a regular "by the num- 
 bers" bath. It was a new one on us ! The soldiers in charge of 
 the place seemed to enjoy this chance to "boss us around." Abso- 
 lute silence was required and half the joy of the bath was taken 
 away because we couldn't shout and yell. We were lined up under 
 the showers and at a signal the water was turned on. "Soak your- 
 selves," we were ordered. We "soaked" for a half a minute and 
 then the water was shut off. "Soap yourselves — soap is in the 
 troughs," came the sing-song voice. We lathered our bodies with 
 a peculiar soft soap like wall-paper paste and then, at the order, 
 "Under the showers," we stood shivering on the wet slatted floor. 
 They kept us waiting a sufficient length of time to properly impress 
 it upon our minds that we were at the mercy of the S. O. S. and 
 then turned on the water. We scarcely had time to rinse off the 
 soap when the water was again cut off and we were shunted into 
 
 175 
 
another room where we received clean underwear and our deloused 
 clothes. 
 
 Our trip through one "mad-house" was over! 
 
 The day after we were deloused that old ''mad-house" burnt to 
 the ground. Somebody left a box of matches in his pockets. It 
 was a sight for sore eyes to see the poor dudes pouring out naked 
 into the cold air! 
 
 176 
 
'The Day" came at last! On the morning of Wednesday, 
 March 19th, the Captain, in high good humor, as evidenced by a 
 constant flow of jokes and banter, personally aroused us at 4:^U 
 a m An ordinary Skipper would have had the guard wake the 1 op 
 Buck and have snoozed until daylight, but not Captain Wedow He 
 let everyone sleep as long as possible and then routed us out of bed 
 himself. Maybe he was just so chuckful of good spirits that he 
 couldn't resist telling us in person that 'The Day" had come. 
 
 Before daylight we had our part of the camp spick and span 
 and our extra blankets turned in to the supply sergeant. Our packs 
 were rolled before breakfast. The hour of moving was uncertain, 
 but, as ever before, the old Machine Gun Company was m readiness, 
 come when it would. 
 
 After breakfast we went, bag and baggage, to the inspection 
 building near the old delouser which had been destroyed by fire 
 Camp officers inspected our packs and clothing for uniformity and 
 neatness, and ours were pronounced excellent. We marched out of 
 the building, and then, due to an error, had to file through the 
 ''mad house^" again for our final cootie inspection. Nobody had 'em ! 
 
 When we got back to our tents we were issued a blue Red Cross 
 kit bag apiece, which contained shaving soap, towel, handkerchief, 
 tooth powder and tooth brush. These bags made a very convenient 
 receptacle for the "junk" we had heretofore been carrying in our 
 pockets and were much appreciated. We rested, rather, say fidgeted 
 in our tents for nearly an hour, and then, at 11:45 a. m., formed 
 up in columns of squads on the road. Yes, it was raining— it always 
 did when we moved ! 
 
 Somehow, somewhere, something went wrong, and we stood 
 there in the driving rain for nearly an hour and a half. Can you 
 beat it— this army? There was but one thing to do, stand stolidly 
 in our places and let the rain trickle off our little "Rain-in-the-face" 
 caps and down our necks until the "powers that be" should decide 
 that we were sufficientlv soaked. How a soldier does hate rain and 
 mud ! How he does hate to have to stand helplessly and take it, not 
 knowing why. And how fluently he can cuss the army at such times ! 
 The American soldier is the most unreasonable critter in the world 
 
 177 
 
when he doesn't know the whys and wherefores of a disagreeable 
 situation. For grouching and all around ability to cuss sarcastically 
 he has eyery other kind of soldier backed off the boards. He could 
 make Billy Sunday gasp for lack of breath in a cussing match. 
 
 The column finally started to creep forward by fits and starts, 
 and when we came to a spot opposite the big troop kitchen we found 
 further food for scathing remark and wholesale grouching. They 
 were handing out Corned Willie and coffee as the column passed. 
 And we had stood in the rain for an hour and a half when we might 
 just as wtII have been eating a good dinner in the mess hall. 
 
 Now, to the uninitiated the foregoing will give the impression 
 that we weren't at all appreciative of the fact that we were going 
 home. Not so at all — beneath our grouching ran an undercurrent 
 of happiness and content. We just love to kick and grouch about 
 minor matters, that's all. As we got under way, though we found 
 the roads "gooey" with mud, the rain driving in our faces, and our 
 packs galling to our, of late, unaccustomed shoulders, we ceased 
 berating the army. We were "doing something" now ; this hike was 
 something that had to be done. It was the beginning of our trip 
 home ! 
 
 The hike to Brest, by the back road which we necessarily had 
 to take because of traffic, was about six kilometers in length. Our 
 route led us through the city before we descended to the sea level 
 and we tried our best to make a snappy and soldierly appearance, 
 so that the people who saw us might have a good impression of the 
 soldiers leaving their shores. We succeeded. 
 
 Arriving at the docks at about 3 :30 p. m. we found things 
 moved with a speed quite to our liking. Scarcely ten minutes elapsed 
 before we were climbing the gang plank of the Great Northern. As 
 we answered the check roll call from the passenger list we were 
 given a pair of socks apiece by women of the Red Cross. They 
 were stuffed, Christmas fashion, with gifts, which, upon examina- 
 tion, we found to be such things as cigarettes, gum, candy, chewing 
 tobacco, and little cans of jam. Perhaps a soldier is a critical and 
 uncompromising fellow, but nothing brings him more genuine joy 
 and is received with greater appreciation than just such comforts 
 as these. 
 
 Upon boarding the vessel we marched immediately to our quar- 
 ters on "D-Deck" midway of the ship, and the lowest troop deck in 
 the ship. The upper troop decks were filled with casuals and hos- 
 pital cases, numbering about nine hundred men in all. We were 
 allowed to roam at will about the boat, and the majority went at 
 once to the open decks to while away the hours bv watching the 
 activities around the docks and harbor. 
 
 178 
 
Compared with the Leviathan, the Great Northern was a pygmy 
 ship. She had a capacity of about three thousand as compared with 
 the Leviathan's twelve thousand. However, because of the freedom 
 we were accorded, we Hked her fully as well as the Leviathan. She 
 was reputed to be the fastest ship in the Transport Service, holding 
 the Brest-New York-Brest round trip record with the remarkable 
 time of fourteen days, fourteen and a half hours. Previous to her 
 induction into the Transport Service she had been a Pacific Coast 
 passenger boat and was built to compete with coast line railroads. 
 
 Ruel: ''What's them sand barges for, Speary?" 
 Speary: "Oh, them? Them's to put sand on the track when 
 we start out, son." 
 
 While we were lying in harbor several Gobs came aboard, 
 stewed to the gills. Rather, they were dragged aboard by M. P.'s 
 and turned over to the ship's guards. 
 
 "Oh," cried a nurse. "The poor boys ! They're just like sol- 
 diers, aren't they?" 
 
 Thursday, the 20th (still in port) — Riots predicted by Pete 
 Clemens if gold brickers from other divisions continue to get fresh 
 with the Thirty-seventh. 
 
 Reber, on guard, started in at once to make himself agreeable 
 with the ladies. Two hours after we got aboard we saw him cud- 
 dling up close to a nurse and whispering confidentially in her ear. 
 She looked about as pleased as if she were taking a dose of quinine. 
 How do they get that way ? 
 
 Well, we suppose we're malicious, but we took quite a little 
 joy in watching the S. O. S. birds watch us with envious eyes. Mem- 
 bers of a fighting unit get their reward — they go home first ! 
 
 179 
 
Brest to New York 
 
 March 20th-March 2/th 
 
 It is safe to say that we experienced the whole gamut of pleas- 
 urable feelings, as, at 6 : 10 p. m. the twentieth or March, we crowded 
 to the rails and watched the tugs puff busily about us and warp us 
 gradually away from the docks and out of the harbor. The dreams 
 of months were being crowned with realization. 
 
 Our leave-taking was without regrets, without pomp or display. 
 To those on the docks it was merely the sailing of another troop ship. 
 The few soldiers on the docks and the group of nurses aboard an- 
 other troop ship were the only ones to bid us farewell. The former 
 watched us silently and made no demonstrations. The nurses flut- 
 tered handkerchiefs in the breeze and watched us through field 
 glasses. 
 
 We, on our part, gazed upon the ever-widening strip of water 
 with a satisfaction so complete and hearts so content that we never 
 even thought of cheering. We had no regrets — no regrets for 
 France. Perhaps we ran over in our minds the chain of experience 
 that had been ours during our nine months with "The Expedition." 
 Perhaps we conjured up visions of the Argonne and Belgium, and 
 compared them with our present situation. Could we forget, either, 
 those comrades of ours, beloved in every sense of the word, who 
 w^ould never sail for home? Every one of those lads who fought 
 beside us and died in the fight are enshrined in our memories. They 
 — not the great generals, the great statesmen, or the wearers of the 
 Croix de Guerre and D. S. C. — are our heroes. 
 
 The ship began to rock as we hit the open sea, for, unlike the 
 old Eeviathan, the round-bottomed Great Northern rode the swell 
 — did not cut through it. Almost instantly dozens of men changed 
 their expressions from happiness to distress — mal-de-mer had them 
 in its clutches ! The number of seasick soldiers increased steadily as 
 land faded from sight. They lay forlornly on the deck or leaned 
 over the rails. Down in the hot, fetid, lower troop decks conditions 
 were worse. The few men who escaped seasickness may congratu- 
 late themselves. 
 
 The weather during the entire voyage was cloudy and rainy. 
 The sun shone fitfully, but we had only one morning of pleasant, 
 bracing, real sunshine. On the fifth day it rained steadily and the 
 sea turned bleak and gray from the reflection of the clouds. A high 
 wind sprang up and the whitecaps began to appear. The broad 
 
 180 
 
undulating mass of water slowly heaved itself into heavy, cumber- 
 some waves until the horizon took on a ragged appearance. By 
 nightfall it was blowing a gale, the rain and spray were sweeping 
 the decks, and the ship careened and rocked sickeningly. Half of 
 the men had recovered from their first bit of seasickness and now 
 they succumbed again. 
 
 The storm continued throughout the night and reached its 
 climax the next day. No one but the ship's crew were allowed on 
 the top or boat deck. The few of us who were not sick and went 
 up on ''A" to get away from the hot, ill-smelling troop decks were 
 driven back down by the drenching we received. 
 
 Although we were extremely fortunate in having to spend only 
 seven days on the water, we were sick and tired of it before three 
 days had passed and did not appreciate our good luck. Other 
 transports, among them the President Grant, which sailed twenty- 
 four to seventy-two hours ahead of us, were overhauled and passed. 
 Our ship showed her heels to all, as became her fine record in the 
 Transport Service. 
 
 On Thursday, the 27th, we sighted land, and skirting what we 
 concluded was Long Island, steamed into New York Harbor, and 
 went into quarantine at 2:15 p. m. 
 
 Mere words cannot possibly express the wave of happiness that 
 surged over us as we looked out over the harbor at the hundreds of 
 ships, the busy tugs, the tall skyscrapers, the great docks and ware- 
 houses, and the hazy outline of the Statue of Liberty. It was all 
 typically "American"— something that spoke of home— a vision 
 which we had cherished through nine long months of hard going 
 on foreign soil. Its colossal proportions and atmosphere of tre- 
 mendous energy could be duplicated nowhere else in the whole 
 world — this was our own land, the good old U. S. A. ! 
 
 While we were waiting for release from quarantine a tu^- 
 bearing the sign, ''Mayor's Welcoming Committee of the City of 
 New York," came out to meet us. She pulled alongside and the 
 band aboard her began to play a popular air. The effect was elec- 
 trical— the boys swarmed to the starboard side and cheer after cheer 
 rent the air, completely drowning the music. A husky riverman 
 mounted the tug's bridge and hurled bundles of New York news- 
 papers into the seething, yelling, madly cheering crowd of soldiers. 
 We cheered until we were hoarse. 
 
 Then we noticed that the Great Northern was slowly getting 
 under way. As we slipped toward the docks we cheered anvthing 
 and anybody— deck hands on other ships, dock workers, the Brook- 
 lyn bridge, stenographers who waved to us from warehouse offices. 
 
 181 
 
The Statue of Liberty especially brought forth a frenzy of excite- 
 ment and lung-bursting yelling. 
 
 As we drew up to the long line of docks marked ''U. S. Army 
 Transport Service" we calmed down, but drank in the sights of home 
 with no less appreciation. At last we swung slowly into the slip 
 at Dock No. 2 and the gang planks shot forth. Our voyage was 
 ended. 
 
 After a delay of over an hour, during which time the casuals, 
 invalids and nurses were unloaded, we finally filed down the gang 
 planks and crowded into the great shipping rooms. Immediately we 
 were assailed by an army of Red Cross, Y. M. C. A., K. of C, Jew- 
 ish Welfare and Salvation Army workers, who showered us with 
 chocolate cream candy, almond bars, peppermints, flavored hard 
 candy, gum, cigarettes and matches. The Salvation Army girls 
 came forward with telegram blanks, in addition to gifts of candy 
 and gum, and told us they would send messages for us free of charge, 
 a service which was most opportune and highly appreciated. 
 
 ''Now," said one happy soldier, *T know damned well we're in 
 America !" 
 
 In addition to the aforementioned gifts we were given a fine 
 meal of hash, hard boiled eggs, biscuits, coffee and canned peaches 
 by the Red Cross. Even mess kits were provided to save us the 
 trouble of using our own. Meanwhile, as we ate, we were again 
 surrounded and loaded with good things. Never before had we 
 been treated so royally. Every organization strained to its utmost 
 to make us welcome and show us we were among "white men" once 
 more. 
 
 McGinnis wasn't the only one who was afraid to stir from his 
 bunk the first few days. If vou left your bunk you tied a calf, that's 
 all. 
 
 Nurses running around in nighties and heading for a place to 
 heave were a common sight to the guards. Lots of men volunteered 
 for guard duty. 
 
 The number of dudes with three-day beards reminded one of 
 the Argonne. 
 
 As usual, the Sam Brownes got the cream. They mixed freely 
 with the nurses and the men were permitted to crowd up to the 
 roped ofif sanctuary and water at the mouth. 
 
 182 
 
There were blamed few Sam Brownes on deck during the storm, 
 however, so we got the use of the deck chairs for the time being. 
 
 We thought from the unusual quietness in our quarters that 
 Freiter must have fallen overboard. Then we found out that he 
 was seasick. 
 
 It was a common sight in the mess hall to see the mess kits, food 
 and men slide to the floor at a sudden lurch of the ship. It's a won- 
 derful experience to slide around in the stewed meat and gravy 
 you're supposed to eat ! 
 
 Some bright guy started the chestnut about having six meals 
 a day on the ship — three going down and three coming up. When 
 we first heard that we kicked a slat out of our cradle. 
 
 'Tf the Statue of Liberty ever sees me again she'll have to do 
 an about-face," said Private Pearson, our talented vendor of worn- 
 out jokes. 
 
 Major Philip Roosevelt, of the Seventy-seventh Division, was 
 taken seriously ill and died before the ship could reach port. 
 
 183 
 
Camp Mills 
 
 March 2 /th- April 8th 
 
 Having finished our meal at the dock, we were marched to the 
 Long Island Ferry without further delay and ferried across the river. 
 When we had docked on the Island there ensued a rather aggravat- 
 ing wait before we were unloaded. Then we marched a short dis- 
 tance to the Long Island Terminal and boarded electric trains. We 
 felt, as we were whisked out of the city towards Camp Mills, that 
 it would have been paradise to continue riding swiftly through the 
 darkness until we reached Ohio. We were pretty tired, but could 
 have forgotten our weariness with such a prospect before us. 
 
 When we reached Camp Mills and detrained we found — just 
 as we had expected — that there was a fairly long hike before us. It 
 was raining. 
 
 Three miles of steady footwork brought us to our quarters — 
 barracks at the far end of the camp. It was then about 11 o'clock, 
 but before we were permitted to turn in we had to go through the 
 delouser. That proved to be the last cootie battle in which we were 
 engaged. We got into our beds at 3 :30 a. m. 
 
 Camp Mills turned out to be another exasperating halt in the 
 journey home. We were there twelve days, and during that time 
 had little to do but eat and sleep. It was very "soft," but speed was 
 what we wanted. 
 
 The outstanding feature of our stay at this camp was the won- 
 derful mess. We had been fed well at Brest, but this had former 
 experiences backed off the boards. Not since we left Camp Sheridan 
 had we received anything nearly as good — here, roast pork and dress- 
 insT, mashed potatoes, apple turnovers, bread, jelly, and coffee with 
 milk were a mere incident. We waxed fat and contented. 
 
 The first two or three days were devoted principally to re- 
 clothing the men and we soon began to improve in our appearance 
 as a company. Nearly every man received a complete new outfit 
 and almost everyone bought russet shoes. When we left Brest our 
 Captain was complimented highly upon our snappy and clean ap- 
 pearance ; the inspecting officers declared that we were the best outfit 
 that had ever passed through Brest for embarkation. Now, with 
 all our new uniforms, we looked and felt like candidates for Officers' 
 Training. 
 
 Twenty-four-hour passes to New York were offered to those 
 who wished to visit the great metropolis, but comparatively few 
 men took advantage of the opportunity. Our interest was centered 
 on one place — home. 
 
 184 
 
Cleveland 
 
 April pth-April loth 
 
 Camp Mills passed into the limbo of our memories on Tuesday, 
 April 8th. We pulled out of camp at 7 :45 p. m., riding in tourist 
 sleepers — no more box cars for us. At about noon the next day we 
 paraded in Rochester, N. Y., where we received quite a hearty wel- 
 come, and, incidentally, a bit of good experience in the lost knack 
 of keeping good formation on cobblestones and street car trucks. 
 
 After we left Rochester our train just "high-balled" and our 
 hearts were beating nearly as fast as the wheels upon the rails. What 
 a feeling it was when we entered Ohio! 
 
 At 6 o'clock in the evening we arrived in Cleveland, passing 
 the 105th street station and beautiful Gordon Park, and then rattling 
 through the lake front factory district — dirty and squalid, but good 
 to look at, because for a great many of us it was home. We made 
 one or two short halts before we finally came to rest in the yards 
 at the foot of West 3d Street. 
 
 There we found a great welcoming crowd of people awaiting 
 us — they had been waiting there for hours, and now, releasing their 
 pent-up excitement, they surged about the cars in frantic search for 
 their boys. 
 
 For those of us who did not live in Cleveland these greetings 
 for more fortunate comrades could not help causing a lonesome feel- 
 ing — however, ours would come later and be just as sweet to us. 
 
 Confusion reigned supreme for over half an hour, but finally 
 we succeeded in forming a column and started for our regiment's 
 old home. Central Armory. Men, women and children hung to the 
 skirts of the column or marched in the ranks. Many of the boys 
 fell out of the ranks and "beat it" with their loved ones. Tom 
 Sawyer would have called it a "gorgeous" home-coming. 
 
 It would be futile to attempt an account of what the Cleveland 
 boys did in their own homes or to narrate the various ways in which 
 the rest of us spent the night. Let us pass on to the following day. 
 
 We gathered at the Armory about 9 o'clock in the morning, and 
 already there was a large crowd of people on the spot. The parade 
 was scheduled for 10:30 a. m., and, half an hour beforehand, we 
 formed up in column of platoons on Lakeside Avenue. The skies 
 threatened rain, but the crowds were not frightened at the prospect 
 and grew steadily larger. 
 
 Promptly at 10:30 we started around the comer of West 3d, 
 and the parade was soon in full swing. A soldier does not like 
 
 185 
 
parades as a rule, but what a grand and glorious feeling it was to 
 march between those long banks of cheering home folks ! 
 
 We have no very distinct or coherent memory of that parade — 
 the salient facts, as we recall them, were surging mobs along the 
 curbs, with a conglomeration of cheering, shouted greetings, sharp 
 explosions, and other rackets, with an undercurrent of band music 
 from the head of the column. It was like a half dozen old-time 
 Fourths concentrated in one. We passed the Square, up Euclid 
 Avenue to 22d Street, back down Prospect to Ninth, and down 
 Superior and 6th to the Armory. 
 
 Then followed the best part of the whole affair, the chicken din- 
 ner served by Cleveland mothers. Long, white-clothed tables had 
 been set upon the Armory floor, all set and laid ready for us. A 
 band played deafening blasts of music from the balcony, and, as we 
 filed to our places at the tables the crowds in the galleries cheered 
 and applauded. The mothers brought on the chicken. Ain't it 
 great to be a hero ! 
 
 The scheduled festivities now being over, we were dismissed 
 until 7 p. m., at which time we were supposed to leave for Zanes- 
 ville. It was after 9 p. m. when we did start, and the railroad yards 
 were teeming with people bidding their boys goodby. This time, 
 unlike our departure in the fall of 1917, their faces were cheerful 
 and happy. We were coming back within a few days, and coming 
 back for good. 
 
 186 
 
Zanesville 
 
 April nth 
 
 We pulled into Zanesville some time during the wee hours of 
 the morning, but were not astir and up on the streets of the town 
 until 7 or 8 o'clock. Most of us made for the barber shops of the 
 town "tout-suite." We couldn't think of parading before all those 
 beautiful mademoiselles without perking up and having our shoes 
 shined. When we formed up at 10:30 we looked like a bunch of 
 young plutocrats out for a lark. 
 
 The parade went through without a hitch, and as all parades 
 are alike, we won't bother with unnecessary description. Besides, 
 with a soldier, the "eats" are what count, and when we filed into the 
 market house we surely got all we wanted. The place was a para- 
 dise of pie, ice cream, candy, cigarettes and coffee ; we even got but- 
 termilk. 
 
 Around every window and door a mob of people gathered, 
 squabbling for a place to watch us eat. They seemed to enjoy the 
 feast as much as we did. The small boys of the town reaped a won- 
 derful harvest of good things from soldiers who were "full up." 
 We had a glorious time! 
 
 Corporal Vandivort was the only member of our company whose 
 home was in Zanesville, but he did his best; dragged half a dozen 
 of his old comrades out to his home. We guess he didn't have to 
 "drag" them, at that. Our hats are off to Vandy and his town ! 
 
 187 
 
Marietta 
 
 April 1 2th 
 
 We left Zanesville at 10 p. m. with a cheering crowd to bid 
 us farewell. When we opened our eyes next morning we were in 
 Marietta. Contrary to our expectations, this business of traveling 
 around our good old home State was more of a lark than a disagree- 
 able job; we wished we could continue the tour until everything was 
 ''set" for our discharge. 
 
 The parade started at the usual hour, 10:30 a. m., and follow- 
 ing it, we went to the Ohio National Guard Armory for our ''eats." 
 We were then dismissed until lip. m. 
 
 We found Marietta to be a wonderfully beautiful little town, 
 and, like those of Zanesville, the people were extremely hospitable, 
 and made every effort to give us a good time. There were dances 
 in the Armory both in the afternoon and evening, and automobile 
 owners took hundreds of soldiers for rides about the town and sur- 
 rounding country. 
 
 188 
 
Camp Sherman 
 
 April I ph- April 2 2d 
 
 The story of the travels and adventures of the Machine Gun 
 Company of Ohio's old Fighting Fifth, known in the great war as 
 the 145th Infantry, now draws to an end. An account of our weary 
 last nine days in the army, at Camp Sherman, would be a colorless 
 story, indeed ; we will not tell it. Rather, let us sum it up by saying 
 that we turned in our equipment which we were not to take home, 
 packed the rest in new suitcases, took our last physical examination, 
 and on Tuesday, April 22d, at 8 :30 a. m., were discharged from the 
 service. 
 
 We had waited so long for this great event that a few words 
 concerning it would not come amiss. When day broke that wonder- 
 ful morning we were already astir, cleaning the barracks, packing 
 up our things, and getting blankets and mess kits ready to turn in. 
 Then we had breakfast, and thanked heaven it was our last in the 
 army. Blankets, mess kits and suitcases in our hands, we started 
 for the Q. Al. C. warehouses. We left our suitcases and traveling 
 bags behind at a point half way to our destination, which was at 
 the farthest end of camp. Having rid ourselves of the blankets and 
 mess kits, we retraced our steps and soon were filing into a very 
 ordinary barracks, which looked like a wonder palace to us, for our 
 money and the ''papers." 
 
 The face of each man as he clutched his emancipation proclama- 
 tion and hustled out of that barracks expanded in a broad grin. 
 ''Fineesh armee!" "Wow!" — we could have kissed our worst 
 enemies ! 
 
 Over on the railroad track lay a waiting special train. We 
 already had our tickets, purchased at reduced rates. There was only 
 one thing left to do now — shake hands with our old pals. 
 
 Folks, take it from us, that was the hardest thing in the world* 
 to do — bid our comrades goodby. We knew that we'd never see the 
 majority of them again, and memories of hardships and good times 
 together came flooding back to make the breaking up of our com- 
 pany a sad business. We had one consolation; this narrative, the 
 true history of our trials and our days of fun in the service of Uncle 
 Sam will be a constant source of joy for each and everv^ one of us ; 
 it alone can take the place of buddies from whom we are separated, 
 in all probability, for ever. 
 
 FINIS 
 
 189 
 
These are our comrades who will never return ; the men who 
 toiled through weary months of training with us, sailed to France 
 with us, hiked beside us, messed with us, played with us, slept with 
 us, fought with us, and died beside us. Their bodies are in France 
 and Belgium, but their souls are with God. 
 
 We love them as only soldiers can love comrades who were 
 with them through thick and thin, and their memory is enshrined in 
 our hearts. These are our buddies, our hero dead : 
 
 Albert Smith, 
 Louis Spiry, 
 Charles Griswold, 
 Paul Gusler, 
 McKinley King, 
 Norman MacLean, 
 John Buch 
 Andrew Brahler, 
 Herbert Stolte, 
 Ernest Thrun, 
 George Call, 
 Arthur Carney, 
 Lloyd Wheeler. 
 
 190 
 
CASUALTY LIST 
 
 Wounded in Action 
 
 John A. Tilden 1st Lieutenant Argonne 
 
 Harry S. Merriman 1st Lieutenant Belgium 
 
 Charles O. Albaugh Corporal Belgium 
 
 Arthur J. Avery Private Belgium 
 
 Llewellyn Barbour Private Argonne 
 
 George F. Bartow Private Argonne 
 
 David Dawson Private Belgium 
 
 Walter S. Dunn Private Argonne 
 
 Victor Earl Private Argonne 
 
 Carlon A. Hine Private Argonne 
 
 Arthur D. Lego Private Argonne 
 
 Walter E. Lewis Private Belgium 
 
 Marion McGinnis Private Argonne 
 
 William A. Morgan Private Argonne 
 
 Homer F. Price Private Belgium 
 
 Benj amin J. Shiftman Corporal Argonne 
 
 Leonidas G. Smith Private Argonne 
 
 Olin B. Smith Private Argonne 
 
 John B. Speary Bugler Argonne 
 
 Elmo W. Stults Private Belgium 
 
 Ben Swihart Private Belgium 
 
 Walter L. White Private Belgium 
 
 Melvin Wheeler Private Belgium 
 
 Lester B. Williams Private Belgium 
 
 James Wilson Private Argonne 
 
 William Zack Private Argonne 
 
 Gennar Carelli Private Belgium 
 
 Frank Schanes Private Belgium 
 
 Gassed Severely 
 
 George Sierer Corporal Belgium 
 
 Gassed Slightly 
 
 John H. Stimmel Sergeant Argonne and 
 
 Belgium 
 
 Charles Frank Private Argonne 
 
 Wesley J. Bigler Private Argonne 
 
 Carl Karasek Private Argonne 
 
 Harold Raines Corporal Argonne 
 
 191 
 
Killed in Action 
 
 Charles Griswold Private Argonne 
 
 Paul P. Gusler Sergeant Belgium 
 
 McKinley King Private 
 
 Norman MacLean Private 
 
 John J. Buch Private 
 
 Andrew J. Brahler Private 
 
 Herbert Stolte Private 
 
 Ernest Thrun Private 
 
 -Argonne 
 .Argonne 
 -Argonne 
 -Argonne 
 -Argonne 
 -Argonne 
 
 Died of Wounds 
 
 George H. Call Private 
 
 Arthur E, Carney Private 
 
 Lloyd A. Wheeler Private 
 
 Argonne 
 .Argonne 
 Argonne 
 
 Died of Disease 
 
 Albert Smith Private Camp Sheridan 
 
 Louis Spiry Private Camp Sheridan 
 
 192 
 
ROSTER 
 
 Machine Gun Company, 145th Infantry 
 
 37th Division 
 
 United States Army 
 
 Officers 
 
 Capt. Charles L. Wedow 10207 Adams Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 1st Lieut. Harry S. Merriman Buffalo, N. Y. 
 
 1st Lieut. John A. Tilden Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 1st Lieut. Elmer E. Shultz 93 Lake St j\kron, Ohio 
 
 2d Lieut Roger A. Smith Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 2d Lieut. James L. Fri 
 
 Non-Commissioned Officers 
 
 1st Sergt. Walter C. Clough ^Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Mess Sergt Norman S. Byram..Muir's Landing ^St. Clair Flats, Mich. 
 
 Supply Sergt. Howard H. Frye..R. F. D. No. 1 ^Madison, Ohio 
 
 Stable Sergt. Cesco R. Dillon ^Proctorville, Ohio 
 
 Sergeants 
 
 Harry D. Cater 9702 Hough Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 William R. Hull 1652 E. 71st St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Elmer R. Krueger 13305 Darley Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Charles W. Luchte 3427 Harvey Ave Cincinnati, Ohio 
 
 Edward H. Richner Twinsburg, Ohio 
 
 Bernard J. Roney Buckland, Ohio 
 
 George P. Ruff 2117 Seymour Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Paul S. Shutt R. F. D. No. 2, Findlay Rd...Lima, Ohio 
 
 John H. Stimmel 601 Campbell Ave Detroit, Mich. 
 
 Ernest Chapman E. 95th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Paul P. Gusler 
 
 193 
 
Corporals 
 
 Clem O. Bailey 351 S. Jackson St Lima, Ohio 
 
 Fay S. Brown R. F. D. No. 2 Mendon, Ohio 
 
 Steven C. Byram Muir's Landing St. Clair Flats, Mich. 
 
 Ernest C. demons New London, Ohio 
 
 Milford Conley 312 7th St Ashland, Ky. 
 
 Henry Felkey Kalida, Ohio 
 
 Harry Harmon Graysville, Ohio 
 
 Joseph M. Herman 14933 Cardinal Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 John Miller R. F. D. No. 1 Uniopolis, Ohio 
 
 Peter L. Mumy Route No. 4 Paulding, Ohio 
 
 Wilham D. Perkinson 1302 Center St Portsmouth, Ohio 
 
 Victor A. Norris 2203 E. 105th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Samuel A. Salzman 2252 E. 73d St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 George Sierer 1116 S. Atlantic St Lima, Ohio 
 
 Leo A. Watters Care J. A. Watters Monroeville, Ohio 
 
 Samuel D. Vandivort 541 Luck Ave Zanesville, Ohio 
 
 Charles O. Albaugh 
 
 Benjamin J. Shiffman Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Cooks 
 
 Arthur W. Luther 3921 E. 93d St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Henry O. Mooren 9403 Meech Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Henry E. Welker Berrysburg, Pa. 
 
 Buglers 
 
 John B. Speary R. F. D. No. 2 Portsmouth, Ohio 
 
 Shirley Ruel 125 Front St Portsmouth, Ohio 
 
 Horseshoer 
 
 Paul Slatinsky 2562 W. 10th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Saddler 
 
 Bane Sylvia 3718 Rhodes Ave Portsmouth, Ohio 
 
 Mechanics 
 
 Frank B. Dainus 1931 Lakeside Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Ray C. Engleman Paulding, Ohio 
 
 Willard G. Seymore 223 Crescent Ave Covington, Ky. 
 
 194 
 
Privates— 1st Class 
 
 Calvin E. Bailey Xorth Girard. Pa. 
 
 Donald L. Baxter 414 W. Spring St Lima, Ohio 
 
 Perry E. Beardsley Hudson, Ohio 
 
 Edward Berlett Box 293 Conneaut. Ohio 
 
 William E. Blakeman Route No. 3, Box 49 Lucasville. Ohio 
 
 Andrew J. Brahler 
 
 Thomas W. Bruce 444 S. Main St Amherst. Ohio 
 
 Paul W. Cater 9702 Hough Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Arthur E. Carney 
 
 John J. Chabala 11335 Langley Ave Chicago, 111. 
 
 Spencer A. Coleman 2856 Woodbury Rd Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Halbert M. Davis Kinsman, Ohio 
 
 Walter Dunn -]-] Gilmore St Waycross, Ga. 
 
 Arthur S. Dunstan 3434 Glenwood Ave Toledo. Ohio 
 
 Richard L. Evans McComb, Ohio 
 
 Hamer C. Farrell 524 Cedar St -Syracuse, N. Y. 
 
 Frank Farrington 1115 Fulton Ave ^\kron, Ohio 
 
 Wilbur Felkey Kalida, Ohio 
 
 Charles Frank \2<^y. E. Sanduskv St Findlav, Ohio 
 
 William Friedell 1094 E. 68th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Glenn W. Gayman Donora. Pa. 
 
 John M. Gibson 
 
 Audis Gray 9403 Aleech Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Clarence V. Homer 103 Main St Greenville. Pa. 
 
 Andrew F. Irwin York Floral Co York. Xeb. 
 
 Ray N. Johnson 2228 E. 97th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Arthur W. Jolly 46 N. 13th St Kenmore, Ohio 
 
 Carl J. Karasek 455 E. 143d St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Lee O. Kurfis ,3414 Daisy Ave Cleveland. Ohio 
 
 Walter E. Lewis 
 
 Earl N. Lowry Berhn Heights, O. 
 
 Norman AlacLean 
 
 Marion McGinnis 118 Harrison Ave Xima, Ohio 
 
 Edwin F. ]Munson 
 
 David A. O'Bannon Garden City, Mo. 
 
 William D. Preston 322 Haymond St Fairmount. W. Va 
 
 Homer F. Price Payne. Ohio 
 
 Lynne E. Rood 
 
 Frank D. Roush 113 10th St Toledo. Ohio 
 
 Lewis Siedler .961 E. 77th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Fred J. Sparks 1205 Colton Ave Toledo. Ohio 
 
 Herbert Stolte Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 George H. Tepper 5417 McBride Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Coalter K. Turner Payne. Ohio 
 
 Harley Van Scoit Arlington, Ohio 
 
 Clare Welch Allegany, N. Y. 
 
 Melvin Wheeler 
 
 Walter L. White Box 94 Oakvale. W. Va. 
 
 James Wilson iZZl E. 125th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Herman F. Zellner 1099 E. 143d St Cleveland. Ohio 
 
 195 
 
Privates 
 
 Frank Adamek 1122 S. Desplaines St Chicago, 111. 
 
 William L. Anderson R. F. D. No. 5 Windon, Minn. 
 
 William Angell 1566 W. 117th St Lakewood, Ohio 
 
 Delta L. Artis 950 3d St Portsmouth, Ohio 
 
 Arthur Avery Payne, Ohio 
 
 George F. Bartow 
 
 Henry G. Bates Ironton, Ohio 
 
 Llewellyn Barbour 
 
 Frank R. Bell 212 E. Hardin St Findlay, Ohio 
 
 Charles J. Braun 2151 Clyborne Ave Chicago, 111. 
 
 John J. Bernwinkler 1425 Woodall St Baltimore, Md. 
 
 Fern D. Butler Andover, Ohio 
 
 Wesley J. Bigler R. F. D. No. 1, Box 55.-.Clarington, Ohio 
 
 George H. Call 
 
 Axel Carlson 1204 15th St Rockford, 111. 
 
 Gennar Carrelli 2101 Mead St Racine, Wis. 
 
 Lester Carroll Box 33 Malinta, Ohio 
 
 Floyd J. Chandler 716 Broadway Place Toledo, Ohio 
 
 Jesse H. Chisnell R. F. D. No. 35 Barberton, Ohio 
 
 Raymond L. Covert Ashtabula, Ohio 
 
 Harry L. Crawmer Toboso, Ohio 
 
 John Davis R. F. D. No. 5 Payne, Ohio 
 
 David Dawson 
 
 Adam Decker Kalida, Ohio 
 
 John F. Donahue 615 E. 2d St Lima, Ohio 
 
 August Duerlewanger 512 Reservoir Ave Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 Walter J. Durst Route No. 5 Millsville, Wis. 
 
 Victor Earl R. F. D. No. 1 Waynesfield, Ohio 
 
 Roy Earl R. F. D. No. 1 Waynesfield, Ohio 
 
 William Eddy 269 E. 128th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Clinton Felkey Kalida, Ohio 
 
 Murrel E. Fowler 116H N. Main St Findlay, Ohio 
 
 Edward H. Freiter 3123 E. 98th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Ethan R. Fry R. F. D. No. 1 Paulding, Ohio 
 
 Clayborn G. Greenleaf West Richfield, Ohio 
 
 Charles Griswold 
 
 Russell G. Hall 71 W. Beatty Ave Cambridge, Ohio 
 
 Wilbur Hasting 820 S. Metcalf St Lima, Ohio 
 
 Carlon A. Hine 
 
 Fay B. Hooker R. F. D. No. 3 Latty, Ohio 
 
 Elif Jacobson R. F. D. No. 2 Rio, Wis. 
 
 John Kanyuh 532 2d St .Fairport, Ohio. 
 
 McKinley King 
 
 Lewis Krouse R. F. D. No. 2 Fort Jennings, Ohio 
 
 Lars M. Larson Beldenville, Wis. 
 
 Mike Lasher ..908 W. 26th St Erie, Pa. 
 
 196 
 
Privates— Continued 
 
 Arthur D. Lego 947 W. Hopkins Ave Barberton, Ohio 
 
 Herbert Lego 947 W. Hopkins Ave Barberton, Ohio 
 
 Charles W. Lessiter 338 N. 2d St Barberton, Ohio 
 
 Joseph J. Luce 524 E. Pearl St Cincinnati, Ohio 
 
 Mathew Manning Mulberry, Kas. 
 
 Joseph Meixner 912 35th St Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 Artie C. Miller Grand River, Iowa 
 
 Gust Miller Route No. 2 East Orwell, Ohio 
 
 Orville Mills 714 S. Metcalf St Xima, Ohio 
 
 William A. Morgan 1285 167th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 John Meuller Darlington, Wis. 
 
 Carl Munson 2428 E. 22d St Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 William Nuendorf 175 W. Main St Juneau, Wis. 
 
 Percy Olson Hammond, Wis. 
 
 Lester Outcelt Route No. 1 St. Croix Falls, Wis. 
 
 Michael B. Patras 3127 W. 11th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Raymond A, Pearson Lima, Ohio 
 
 Tony Phillips 421 23d St Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 John Pletcher 609 S. Woodlawn Ave Lima, Ohio 
 
 Victor Puhl R. F. D. No. 2 Fall Creek, Wis. 
 
 Harold Raines 656 Harrison Ave. iima, Ohio 
 
 Albert R. Raufman Route No. 1, Box 18 Nekoosa, Wis. 
 
 Clyde W. Reber 914 Fruit Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Volney Rice Aragon Mill Rock Hill, S. C. 
 
 Joseph F. Rock 620 Adams Ave Eveleth, Minn. 
 
 Oscar Rotenberg 1000 3d Ave Rock Island, 111. 
 
 Frank Schanes Route No. 1 New Rome, Wis. 
 
 Robert H. Schoenrock 425 Western Ave Blue Island, 111. 
 
 Albert Schwahn Care A. F. Schwan & SocEauclaire, Wis. 
 
 John G. Schneck 
 
 Harry Seaman 5107 Woodland Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Louis Shaps 726 Rockaway Ave Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 August Siem 842 Center St Stevens Point, Wis. 
 
 Ralph Smith 521 Grand Ave Findlay, Ohio 
 
 George E. Southworth Route No. 1, Box 28 Piketon, Ohio 
 
 Leonidas G. Smith Willowton, W. Va. 
 
 Olin B. Smith 
 
 Joseph H. Specs 616 Center St Lima, Ohio 
 
 Paul Stellato 772 Dekoven St Chicago, 111. 
 
 Crawford Stewart 965 Mobile Place East Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Elmo W. Stults Wellington, Texas 
 
 Ben Swihart 433 E. 114th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 Ernest Thrun - 
 
 Joe Tischler 1083 Marion St -St. Paul, Minn. 
 
 Adolph Traskewich 3127 S. Lowe St Chicago, 111. 
 
 Bayden Vujich 1541 E. 34th St Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 197 
 
Privates — Continued 
 
 Wynne A. Walters R. F. D. No. 3 Sandyville, W. Va. 
 
 Ralph Walters Care J. A. Watters Monroeville, Ohio 
 
 Lloyd A. Wheeler 
 
 Lester B. Williams R. F. D. No. 3 Van Wert, Ohio 
 
 Benjamin Wilson 44 Stone Block Warren, Ohio 
 
 Ralph Wygant Mora, Minn. 
 
 William Zack 2315 Hamilton Ave Cleveland, Ohio 
 
 198 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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