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WAR MEMORIES 
 
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War Memories 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK A. HOLDEN 
 
 (2nd Lieutenant, 328th Inf., 82nd Division) 
 
 With an Introduction by 
 
 LUCIEN LAMAR KNIGHT, LL.D., F.R.S. 
 
 State Historian of Georgia 
 

 Copyright, 1922 
 FRANK A. HOLDEN 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 ©Ci.A686591 
 
 Published October, 1922 
 BY 
 
 ATHENS BOOK COMPANY 
 ATHENS, GA. 
 
 $2.00 Postage Prepaid 
 
 OCT 30 72 
 
 "^tt \ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 The Ex-Service Man 11 
 
 I Want to Go Back 15 
 
 Looking Backward 19 
 
 Training Camp 21 
 
 Camp Gordon 24 
 
 Special Assignment ' 25 
 
 Saying Good-Bye 27 
 
 Would You? 31 
 
 Mothers Never Forget 33 
 
 The Trip Over 35 
 
 Our Stay in England — 40 
 
 France and Back of the British Lines 45 
 
 Our Best Friend 46 
 
 M. Lucien Jouffrett 51 
 
 Our First Fatal Casualty.. 56 
 
 Training 57 
 
 A Little Music 61 
 
 A Pleasant Move __-- 62 
 
 The Doughboy 63 
 
 French Coffee 64 
 
 Our New Area 65 
 
 To the Front 67 
 
 Memories of Front Line Sector 77 
 
 In Reserve -- — 82 
 
 From Trenches to Palace Cars 83 
 
 The Interpreter Gets a Call 86 
 
 Back to the Front 88 
 
Burying Our Comrades 94 
 
 My Greatest Thrill 96 
 
 To Another Front -_ 97 
 
 ^'Soldiers Three'' 99 
 
 Pont-a-Mousson 102 
 
 A Long Night 110 
 
 Paris Pleasures Suddenly End 113 
 
 Out of the Stillness 117 
 
 Norroy —121 
 
 The Gas Attack 127 
 
 A Long Ride 137 
 
 The Argonne Forest -- 139 
 
 The Sermon on the Hillside 142 
 
 On the Roads -- 145 
 
 Li the Little Valley 149 
 
 On the Roads Again — 156 
 
 The Roads Once More 164 
 
 The Last Shots _- 169 
 
 Anxious Hearts 174 
 
 After the Storm 177 
 
 A Trip Back 180 
 
 Dad's Xmas Letter 181 
 
 My Best Trip in France 185 
 
 Christmas Eve Supper 188 
 
 A Leave at Last, But — 193 
 
 In Southern France 198 
 
 Sergeant White 202 
 
 Ten Months' Pay 207 
 
 A Little Different 209 
 
 Home, Sweet Home — 212 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 One of the most delightful things in life is to be 
 the herald of a happy event — the message-bearer of 
 a welcome bit of news. The writing of this little in- 
 troduction, therefore, is less of a task than of a priv- 
 ilege ; for its purpose is to inform the public that a 
 little volume which Americans have long been eager 
 to read — have long been anxious for some one to 
 write — has at last appeared. I make this statement, 
 not without a due regard to the meaning of words, 
 and not without some, nay, much, of the gratification 
 which the old Syracusan philosopher must have felt 
 when he exclaimed: ''Eureka! Eureka!" 
 
 Here it is : — a little book which reflects upon every 
 page the intimate heart-life of the American boy in 
 France, during the World War — what he saw and 
 felt and thought and did, not only in the great crises 
 of battle ; but on the march and in the camp — setting 
 forth the first impressions made upon a soldier's 
 mind, under foreign skies, at the cannon's mouth, and 
 revealing the fact that everywhere and always his 
 thoughts w^ere of the dear ones at home, thousands of 
 miles across the seas. 
 
 It is like a mirror in its faithful reproduction of 
 the simpler elements which enter into vast and splen- 
 did scenes. We have heard much of general move- 
 ments; of grand climaxes; of superb exhibitions of 
 man-power, in the aggregate ; of millions, upon one 
 side, confronting millions upon another; and so vast 
 has been the picture presented to our minds that we 
 have utterly failed to grasp it, except in its out- 
 standing characteristics. We have heard too little 
 of the human side of the great war — too little of 
 
the things whidi carry a direct appeal to the deep 
 heart of America. We have been hungry for the 
 minor details — for the smaller threads — for the frag- 
 mentary episodes and incidents — for the rare and 
 delicate and tender touches of color which are need- 
 ed to complete the picture, and to give it beauty, 
 pathos, power and charm. 
 
 Ever since, in the lone solitudes of the night, we 
 first began to wonder where our boys were, on the 
 other side — if they were still safe — we have longed 
 for such a book; and so far as our pensonal observa- 
 tion extends it is the very first book of this character 
 to appear in print, on either side of the water. The 
 experiences of one soldier are not unlike those of 
 another ; and every fond parent who reads this book 
 will feel that his or her boy is writing, though it may 
 be that his spirit now looks down upon them from the 
 unseen halls of the Great Valhalla. 
 
 The author has not attempted an epic. His little 
 volume is not, in any sense, a romance of chivalry; — 
 it is merely a little memorandum book in which he 
 has penciled his recollections, while these were still 
 fresh in mind, and to keep the bright tints from 
 fading, as they Avere otherwise bound to do, with the 
 lapse of years. There is no grasping after effect ; no 
 hint of pedantry; no suggestion of melodrama; no 
 obsequious ifanfare of trumpets. He follows tihe 
 example of Othello, in "The Moor of Venice ;'' and, 
 in spite of perilous encounters, in the imminent, 
 deadly breech, hair-breadth escapes and moving acci- 
 dents, both on field and on flood, he would still — 
 "a round, unvarnished tale deliver." 
 
 In a straight-forward manner, therefore, he nar- 
 rates his story, beginning with tearful leave-takings 
 and ending with joyful welcomes back to the home- 
 
land. Like a song-bird, in an English hav/thorn, he 
 gives us the melody with which his soul is charged, 
 and he pours it forth in an unpremeditated lay. 
 
 Aeneas, at the court of Dido, in depicting the 
 scenes of the Trojan War, makes use of the grandilo- 
 quent expression: ''much of which I saw and part 
 of which I was." He also calls himself the "pious 
 Aeneas;" and he speaks of his renown as reaching 
 above the stars — all of which, if true, might well have 
 been left unsaid. The author of this book was the 
 spectator of scenes far more sanguinary than those 
 which were staged on the plains of Troy. He saw 
 huge monsters of war which dwarfed the wooden 
 horse to a mere insect; and he fought upon fields 
 which decided the fate, not of a single empire, but of 
 many, and which affected the whole future of two 
 great hemispheres. Where the fighting was heaviest, 
 Lieutenant Frank Holden was on hand. But his 
 thought is never upon himself; and, with character- 
 istic modesty, he seems to shun rather than to court 
 the lime-light, even when compelled b}^ the exigencies 
 of the narrative to use the personal pronouns. There 
 is no offensive egotism. He puts aside the temptation 
 to exploit himself, as he does the temptation to in- 
 dulge in high-flown rhetoric. He is satisfied merely 
 to inform the reader that he was there, and he wisely 
 leaves to others the task of depicting scenes, which 
 might have baffled a Dante or a Salvator Rosa, 
 
 To those of us who live in the sunny latitudes of 
 the United States, between the Savannah and the 
 Chattahoochee Rivers, it is pleasing to reflect that the 
 author is one of us — a Georgian to "tlie manner 
 born." Pride of kinship and of old acquaintance 
 surges warmly in our veins as we read the gentle 
 
narrative before us and realize at every turn of the 
 story that while the author never indulges in heroics, 
 he is none the less a hero. Five times recommended 
 for promotion by superior officers, under whom he 
 immediately served, and commended by them for his 
 devotion to duty and disregard of personal danger, 
 his record is one in which his family may well de- 
 light and of which his friends, in every walk of life, 
 are jusitfiably proud.* On September 13th last, in 
 the State Democratic primary Lieutenant Holden 
 was chosen one of Clarke County's two representa- 
 tives in the State legislature of Georgia, leading the 
 entire ticket. Of the total vote polled for repre- 
 sentative of 2325 he received 1999, something almost 
 unprecedented in a contest of this character. 
 
 Lieutenant Holden is a scion of one of the State's 
 oldest households, from both sides of which he is the 
 inheritor of fine traditions which he has gallantly 
 sustained. His father, Judge Horace M. Holden, has 
 ably served on the state's Supreme Bench. His 
 mother, who was a Corry, is a grand-niece of the 
 Great Commoner, Honorable Alexander H. Stephens. 
 Not only in accent but in action — in dignified de- 
 meanor — in manliness of bearing — in every thought 
 which gives an impulse and a character to conduct — 
 he exemplifies the very highest type into w^iich our 
 race has flowered — the Southern Gentleman. Those 
 lines of Bayard Taylor are undoubtedly true to 
 truth ; and they are happily illustrated in our young 
 Hotspur : 
 
 ^'The bravest are the tenderest, 
 The gentle are daring." 
 
 As for this little volume, it is sure to lift the latch 
 of many a home in America, and to tug at the heart- 
 
strings of thousands of readers. Though an unpre- 
 tentious book, it may, for this very reason, and be- 
 cause all unconscious of its mission, win a very definite 
 and distinct place, if not an exalted one, in the liter- 
 ature of the World War. Comrades of the author will 
 read it, because its interesting pages recall the ex- 
 periences which they all shared in common. It will 
 appeal to libraries, because, in an unconventional way, 
 it deals with a topic perennially fascinating and 
 emphasizes qualities of hardihood, of endurance, and 
 of soldiership which are peculiarly American; but, 
 best of all, it will appeal to the firesides of the land, 
 at many of which there are vacant chairs, and over 
 all of which there are memories of sacrifice, of suffer- 
 ing: aud of heroism. The fact, too, that the author 
 comes of distinguished Confederate stock will help to 
 strengthen the bonds of unity ; for his book is a 
 noble contribution to the sentiment of a re-united 
 country and of a people, now one forever. 
 
 LuciAN LxVMAR Knight. 
 Atlanta, Ga., September 15, 1922. 
 
 *(Note). In the Officer's Record Book of Lieutenant 
 Holden appears the following: 
 
 "Argillieres, France, Feb. 25, 1919. Lieutenant 
 Holden performed especiallj'- valuable service during the 
 severe gas shell attack at Norroy, France, iSept. 14, 1918. 
 His attention to duty resulted in fewer casualties in the 
 regiment. 
 
 Richard Wetherill, 
 
 Col. 328th Infantry." 
 
 "Lieutenant Holden was an officer in the second Bat- 
 talion, 32 8th Infantry, for six months, joining just be- 
 fore the regiment sailed from the United States. I 
 commanded " the battalion during this period. I have 
 twice recommended Lieutenant Holden for promotion. 
 His service was characterized by marked loyalty, devo- 
 
tion to duty, disregard of personal danger and intelligent 
 accomplishment of every duty assigned him. He has 
 been a platoon leader, assistant battalion adjutant and 
 battalion gas officer. As gas officer, he performed ser- 
 vices during a heavy bombardment of gas shells in the 
 town of Norroy on Sept. 14, 1918, which I believe 
 saved the lives of many officers and men in his bat- 
 talion. Lieutenant Holden's cheerfulness and fine 
 enthusiasm were at all times in evidence and had real 
 effect upon the morale of all ranks in his battalion. 
 G. Edward Buxton, Jr., 
 
 Lt. Col. Inf.U.S.A." 
 
 "Lieutenant Holden from the time of his affiliation 
 with the 3 2 8th Infantry has been assigned to H com- 
 pany, 32 8th Infantry, except when on detached service. 
 I have found him very diligent in his duties when con- 
 nected with the company, inspiring his men at all times 
 by his personality and bringing out the best in them by 
 his devotion to duty and disregard of his personal safety. 
 On October 8, 1918, when I was in charge of the bat- 
 talion, Lieutenant IHolden was given the most dangerous 
 and important duty of bringing food to the men of his 
 battalion over a heavily shell swept road. This officer, 
 realizing his very responsible position, labored day and 
 night at this difficult task, and with marked intelligence, 
 devotion to duty, and marked cheerfulness, succeeded 
 in bringing the first food to the 32 8th Infantry in the 
 Argonne fight. As captain of Company H, 32 8th In- 
 fantry, I recommended him for promotion twice, and 
 while acting as battalion commander I recommended 
 him again. Lieutenant Holden, by ihis diligence and 
 accomplishments has won a mark of high esteem from 
 both the officers and men of the Second Battalion, 328th 
 Infantry. 
 
 J. M. Tillman, 
 
 Maj. 328 Inf." 
 
THE American Red Cross was the last to 
 wave us go|||!|H||||W^merican shores 
 and the first to greet us in foreign lands. 
 This cross was s^n on the fiel is of battle while 
 the fight still ragfed, and on th< arms of first aid 
 men as they rushed out to get the wounded; it 
 
 ovHBie shell-torn roads; and it wavedi|H|il' 
 liaflTsplendor from close up hospitals uhqer 
 enemy fire. The Red Cross dressed the woudds 
 of fa|jtt1^ nnr4 touched out feverist^HHHBKh 
 thege jn and tendernt.s^ of a mother's 
 
 hand. It's the Nearest thing Jcin to a mother's 
 love. The rays of light whichlome from it are 
 not unlike those which shine #om the Cross of 
 Calvary. And ^^^^jmI forth today in 
 peace time; it stii^^arne^n? 
 
 To the 
 American Red Cross 
 this book is dedicated. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The ex-service man has little to say about his life 
 in the army, but who knows how often pictures of 
 the days that used to be pass before him? 
 
 A boy in the city stares out of the office window, 
 his ears deaf to the noise of the clicking typewriters. 
 Pictures of far away France come before him and 
 back to work he goes. 
 
 In the crowded streets among the moving masses 
 the ex-service man passes and crosses here and there. 
 Memory pictures of the battlefields of France are 
 flashing through his mind. 
 
 Down in the corn field by the river a lonesome 
 boy follows the plow. The stillness is broken now 
 and then by a Bob White calling to its mate and the 
 end of the row awakens the boy from his dreams 
 of war days. 
 
 What memories we have of it all! And before 
 these memories are dimmed or faded I have written 
 mine out, gathering many of the details from letters 
 I wrote home. My memories are similar to those of 
 hundreds of thousands of other American soldiers. 
 
You will find some sentiment in what I have writ- 
 ten, but without sentiment the wheels of progress 
 and march of armies would stop. I have given some 
 of the human aspects of the war. There are many 
 interesting incidents in the experience of numerous 
 friends about which I would like to write, but which, 
 for the lack of space, I am compelled to omit. 
 
 The personal pronoun often occurs. This is not 
 a history of the war but simply a narrative of my 
 experience and that of others observed by me and 
 when originally written was not intended for publi- 
 cation. 
 
THE EX-SERVICE MAN 
 
 IT was not until we were at sea, well on our way 
 across the Atlantic, that we really began to think 
 and wonder. We had been dazed and hypnotized 
 by the grandest ''send off" ever accorded any de- 
 parting soldiers in the history of nations. Every 
 goodbye came from laughing voices. Forty-eight 
 states bubbling over with goodbye smiles made our 
 country one great blaze of sunshine. But now, way 
 out on the deep, we came to ourselves, for we had time 
 to think as we journeyed across. We began thinking 
 of the days when the war would be over. My! 
 would it not be wonderful when the soldiers returned 
 after going so far away to fight ! 
 
 After we landed in England and France, we began 
 to appreciate our own country. Our thoughts, while 
 in the trenches and while in rest billets and during 
 that period after the Armistice when we waited and 
 waited so long for our sailing orders, were often of 
 what we were going to do when we got back to the 
 New World. 
 
 When we returned, the first few days at home 
 were well-filled with greetings by the people who 
 were glad to see us back safely. The first few nights 
 at home were spent telling of our experiences and 
 
12 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 showing souvenirs, if we were lucky enough to have 
 brought an}^ home. 
 
 But after that, w^hat ? We did not know or realize 
 while overseas that most of our people back home 
 had thrown everj^ ounce of energy they had into 
 helping win the war. They had bought Liberty 
 Bonds, had made drive after drive, woi'ked without 
 ceasing for the Red Cross, and the various other 
 organizations, and had denied themselves many things 
 and made numerous other sacrifices of which we 
 knew nothing. kSo while we were dreaming of the 
 days when we w^ould arrive at our homes we never 
 dreamed that we would return to a people who were 
 war-sick and worn, too. Thus we did not enjoy 
 telling our war tales as we thought we would and 
 our people did not enjoy hearing us talk war as we 
 expected. But back of it all there is something not 
 to have been anticipated about the returned soldier. 
 He is restless but quiet. 
 
 We felt on our return "let down" and disap- 
 pointed over something. What that something is, I 
 do not know. I wish I did. We criticise no one for 
 it. I would not go two blocks now to hear Lieutenant 
 Rene Fonck, the French ace, tell how he downed three 
 German planes in twenty seconds, or tell of his ex- 
 perience in downing seventy-five planes officially 
 credited to him, and the forty others that he claims. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 13 
 
 I would not go two blocks to hear Sergeant Alvin 
 York tell of how he killed twenty Germans and cap- 
 tured one hundred and thirty-two, and I doubt if 
 there are many others who would. 
 
 At the age when we were just in the first steps of 
 manhood, the time when we were beginning our life 's 
 work either in the professional or business world, or 
 on the farm, just at this most critical point in life, 
 we gave it all up. We crossed the large body of 
 water that w^e studied about in the primary grades 
 at school, never dreaming then that we would ever be 
 able to sail this big sea. Some of us saw one ship 
 carry as many as ten thousand soldiers. Some of us 
 saw army camps and railway systems and many other 
 things established on a large scale in a short time by 
 our government in a foreign land. Some of us saw 
 sights of which we had never before heard ; saw hun- 
 dreds of airplanes circling high over the front lines ; 
 saw airplanes fight and watched them fall; saw ob- 
 servation balloons go" up in smoke ; saw our friends 
 killed and wounded; saw an entire division move 
 over a hundred miles from one front to another in 
 one day by trucks. Some of us saw Paris and most 
 of us saw our great metropolis. New York. Seeing 
 all these things and many more besides, being on the 
 move most of the time, made us feel when we re- 
 
14 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 turned to our ordinary routine duties, a ''let down" 
 that was rather hard on some of us. 
 
 Go through our western states and you will find 
 many ex-service men who have gone there from other 
 sections since receiving their discharge. Ask them 
 why they are out there and they wdll tell you that 
 they are restless and discontented. Of course, there 
 are some exceptions. 
 
 I know of a captain who went through the stiff 
 training at the First Officers' Training Camp where 
 he received a commission. He was in charge of a 
 company ithrough eight mionths of the long and 
 tedious drill schedules at Camp Gordon. He rode 
 and hiked over many miles of England and France. 
 He experienced over three months at the front in 
 the Toul sector, he carried his company through the 
 St. Mihiel drive, and a month later the German artil- 
 lery wounded him as he w^as leading his men into 
 the Argonne fight. 
 
 This captain had all the adventures that American 
 soldiers experienced, and yet Captain Will King 
 Mdadow of Athens, Ga., was at work in his office a 
 few days after he returned home and has been at 
 work ever since just as if he had never heard of the 
 war. 
 
 Now you may say that is what all the ex-service 
 men should have done. You are right, and it would 
 
WAR MEMORIES 
 
 15 
 
 be fine if they could do as Captain Meadow has done, 
 and they would if they could. 
 
 I know boys who never experienced any of the 
 horrors of the fighting; boys who never even went 
 overseas, whose stay in the army has unfitted them 
 for their life's work which they had studied and 
 prepared themselves for and they cannot settle down 
 to such work. Some will get over this, but a great 
 many will never outlive it; and where you will find 
 one like this ex-captain I have just written about, 
 you will find hundreds who are so restless that they 
 are miserable. 
 
 I WANT TO GO BACK 
 
 Life sometimes seems rather strange and queer. 
 We try to plan our future, what we would like and 
 what we expect to enjoy and then everything turns 
 out so differently. How we disliked to be in France 
 during those weary months after the Armistice (ex- 
 cept when on leave.) That was when we were wmt- 
 ing so long to start back home, when the hours that 
 dragged by seemed like days. But now ask the ex- 
 service man how he feels about going back. More 
 than likely he would say that he would like to go back 
 in civilian clothes and see France in peace time. 
 
 And now I want to go back. 
 
16 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 I want to catch the largest steamer that crosses 
 the Atlantic. I want to stand on the front and watch 
 the 'big ship split through the waves and look out 
 over the deep as far as I can see and have the con- 
 solation of knowing that I am sailing through safe 
 waters where I once sailed through troubled seas, 
 with no dread now of the submarine lurking near, 
 
 I want to go back and see the wonderful French 
 people, the people that we called slow, the people 
 with whom we would at times get provoked — ^yes, 
 now I want to see them again. Their endurance, suf- 
 fering and trials w^ere unequaled by any other nation 
 that had a part in the war. The morale and high 
 spirits they held throughout when the enemy was 
 almost at the gates of the heart of their republic 
 should always (be remembered as one of the greatest 
 factors in winning the war. 
 
 I want to go hack and see Paris during peace time. 
 I saw the great paradise of pleasure seekers at a 
 time when the outlook seemed dark and gloomy for 
 the Allies, when the enemy was still gaining ground 
 toward the city and the long range guns were 
 registering hits inside its walls. I saw no signs of 
 grief or despair or poverty in the city of millions 
 during this great crisis. If their morale had broken 
 and if their spirit had weakened then all the sacri- 
 fices they had made and all the brave fighting of 
 
WAR MEMORIES 17 
 
 their sons would have been for naught, and the 
 Crown Prince would have had the pleasure of choos- 
 ing from the many chateaux in the city a place for 
 his mansion, and many more Americn boys would be 
 sleeping far away from their birthplace. The bright 
 and cheerful spirit of the French in their capital city 
 cannot be praised too much. Now I want to go back 
 and see this city again and be thrilled with its peace 
 time gaiety and fun. 
 
 I want to go back to the little villages where our 
 battalion was billeted, in the back areas not far from 
 the front. These little villages were almost deserted 
 then. I want to see the same villages and see how 
 they are getting back to normalcy. I want to see the 
 few old inhabitants who stayed in these towns, the 
 old men and women who were so nice and polite to 
 us. I saw so many of them doing work that they 
 seemed too old to do, as they were at an age when 
 they should have finished their hard labors on this 
 earth. I want to go back now and see them again. 
 
 And, too, I want to go back to the battlefields^ — 
 the frontiers of freedom. I want to go back to 
 Xivray where I first went into the trenches. Once 
 it was a village but then a mass of fallen buildings' — 
 not a house standing in the town, and our trenches 
 ran through the main street. I want to go back and 
 be a,ble to walk through the village in day time and 
 
18 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 then walk out into No Man's Land in broad daylight. 
 I want to go back and go again on top of that high 
 mountain, Montsec, that the enemy held just in 
 front of Xivray. This mountain stood in front of us 
 like a giant sitanding over a small boy and it was 
 our horror for many months until captured in the 
 St. Mihiel drive. For miles around the Germans 
 could see every movement we made in the day time 
 from their observation post on this mountain. 
 
 I want to go back to Verdun and see the city 
 once again where the French fought as no people 
 ever before fought. From Bar Le Due hundreds of 
 automobiles, trucks and taxicabs carried thousands 
 of soldiers over the good military road to Verdun 
 where they got out of these conveyances on the run, 
 and rushed against the Germans with the ever living 
 motto in their hearts, "They Shall Not Pass/' 
 
 I want to go back to the village of Norroy and 
 talk with the inhabitants that were hid in their cel- 
 lars when we went into the town on the night of 
 September 13, 1918, and delivered them from four 
 long years of bondage and horror. 
 
 I want to go back and ride over the roads in the 
 Argonne Forest where for two days and nights I was 
 under almost continuous shelling. 
 
 But most of all, I desire to go back and see the 
 graves of our ''boys who did not come back," 
 
WAR MEMMRIE8 19 
 
 graves of our comrades who were cut down just as 
 their life's work began. Their work is finished now 
 and with their task well done let us hope that their 
 monuments will ever stand as the last monuments 
 of war, and that the light of their sacrifices will 
 ever shine forth, not only for the present generation, 
 but for generations and generations, for the millions 
 yet unborn, forever and forever. 
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD 
 
 Now, I am thinking of the days to come, but later 
 when I get to the age where one enjoys looking back 
 over the road already traveled, more than looking 
 ahead, I want to get out this little book and read it 
 over and live once again the days I spent while an 
 American soldier and recall to mind once again the 
 pictures the details of which I may forget unless I jot 
 them down now while they are so fresh. If you are 
 still tired of war stories, when you have read this 
 chapter, put this little book away on the shelf and 
 maybe in the years to come it will fall into some 
 old gray-haired World War veteran's hands and per- 
 haps it will serve as some company and comfort to 
 him in his old age as I expect it to be to me when 
 I am in the evening of life. 
 
 Of course, we had our trials and hardships, many 
 long road marches with heavy packs, many long days 
 and nights of home sickness, but of these things I 
 
20 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 will not write much. When w^e recall the past our 
 minds are usually filled with memories of the pleas- 
 anter things in life. We soon forget our sufferings 
 and so it is with our experiences in the war. When- 
 ever you hear the old boys talk over their experiences 
 together they iwill bring up something that will cause 
 a smile or a laugh and even if something is said of 
 that long march out of the trenches in the rain some- 
 one will speak up and say : ' ' Yes, and you remember 
 that old fat boy who left his equipment and had to go 
 back a quarter of a mile and get it. ' ' We will laugh 
 about it now but it wasn't funny then. 
 
 I have never forgotten the talk the Dean of the 
 Law School at the University of Georgia gave us the 
 day before our graduation. He said that we were 
 entering upon a profession of hard w^ork, worry and 
 sometimes disappointment, and that our work in- 
 volved the worries and troubles of others, carrying 
 with it a great deal of responsibility. As we sat there 
 on the eve of our graduation and heard this lecture, 
 we could not help feeling a little blue. The more 
 Professor Sylvanus Morris talked the bluer we got. 
 Near the end of his lecture he paused and silence 
 reigned through the room. ''Gentlemen," he said, 
 ''you will find that what I have just told you is true, 
 but I wish to say this to you before you leave these 
 halls. A lawyer may have all the worries and trou- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 21 
 
 bles and responsibilities that I have just told you of, 
 but there is one good thing about lawyers and that 
 is they can have the darndest best time of any class 
 or set of men on the globe when they get together." 
 What he said I have always remembered and I 
 have often times thought how it applied to the ex- 
 service men. I can not talk interestingly about my 
 good times overseas, but let me meet with an old pal 
 who was over there and we can have the darndest 
 best time of any two people that can get together. 
 
 TRAINING CAMP 
 
 On April 6, 1917, our freedom loving country, with 
 over a hundred million souls far away from the 
 horrors and sufferings of the great European strug- 
 gle, declared war on Germany and entered into the 
 great conflict which would make it a World War. 
 Our country, with a small regular army, whose peo- 
 ple had bled on their own soil in a war that had 
 cemented them together, forming the greatest nation 
 on earth, was now to throw its great forces of men 
 and supplies into the struggle overseas. 
 
 At this time I was practising law wdth my father 
 in Athens, Georgia, just a few months out of a law 
 school. The War Department planned many camps 
 to be established for the purpose of training men to 
 
22 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 officer the large forces the United States would throw 
 into the war. One of these training camps was lo- 
 cated at Fort McPherson, Atlanta, Georgia, to which 
 I reported on the opening day, May 11, 1917. 
 
 When my mother hung the service flag in my 
 father's office there were two stars in it. Albon Reed, 
 who had been practising law nearly two years with 
 my father, left for the training camp the same day 
 I did. Alibon was married and did not have to go 
 but when the bugle blew he was with his friends in 
 khaki and when the last shot in the World War was 
 fired Captain Reed had fought with the 82nd Division 
 in all its battles. 
 
 Some who read this book may not know all whose 
 names I mention, and some may not know any of 
 them, but when I refer to a soldier by name, re- 
 member it makes this little story real, and when you 
 read of the boys I have mentioned there may appear 
 in your mind a boy that you know — a friend of 
 yours — perhaps your boy. 
 
 The training camp was filled with men mostly 
 from Georgia, Alabama and Florida. It seemed to 
 me like a reunion of my old college mates as there 
 were so many University of Georgia graduates in the 
 camp. Little did we think while we were in college 
 preparing to fight the battle of life that after our col- 
 lege days were over so many of us would meet again 
 
WAR MEMORIES 23 
 
 in another school, this time to train and prepare to 
 fight a real battle of life — the battle tor world free- 
 dom. 
 
 Among these old college chums was Bob Griinn. 
 Bob and I grew up together in the little village of 
 Crawfordville, Georgia. There we played together 
 long before we entered the first grade in school. We 
 were freshmen together in college, room mates and 
 class mates, and now we were in the training camp 
 together in the same company, in the same squad, 
 marching side by side in the drilling, and bunked 
 next to each other. I never thought then that in a 
 little over a year from that time this same Bob 
 would write his mother the following letter from 
 the famous Argonne Forest: 
 
 ''France, October 15, 1918. 
 "I am right close up now. Am mingled all in the 
 woods (forest) with the 82nd Division. Haven't 
 seen Frank yet and poor boy I fear for him. I saw 
 poor little Carl Goldsmith's resting place yesterday. 
 Gee, but the boys are shot up bad." 
 
 An exitract from another letter of Bdb's to his home 
 folks two days later is as follows : 
 
 "I know right where Frank's company is and I 
 am going to it tomorrow and see w^hat has become 
 of Frank. If I find him there w^ell and happy we 
 will cable home of the happy reunion." 
 
24 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 Men gathered in officers' training camps from every 
 walk in life. Some had previous military training, 
 some had never drilled a step. Some were paupers, 
 some were millionaires. At night our tired bodies 
 readily gave way to sound sleep ; at early morning the 
 bugle started us on our daily grind. The closing 
 hours of the day were refreshed by visits of rela- 
 tives, friends and sweethearts at retreat. 
 
 Three months of it! And then all but a few 
 were commissioned officers in the United States 
 Army; most of the few not commissioned attended 
 second training camps and some of these were com- 
 missioned higher than some of their associates in the 
 firsit camp. 
 
 CAMP GORDON 
 
 We received our commissions on August 15th after 
 three months of intensive training. I was commis- 
 sioned a Second Lieutenant. We were given a twelve 
 day leave at the expiration of which most of us were 
 to report to Camp Gordon, Atlanta, Georgia. 
 
 Camp Gordon was filled with men mostly from 
 Georgia, Alabama land Tennessee. After five or 
 six weeks training the majority of these men were 
 transferred to National Guard Divisions in order 
 to fill them to war strength and the last of October 
 we began receiving men from the northern camps. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 25 
 
 Thus the 82nd Division that proved later to be one 
 of the big factors in making American history a;broad 
 was undergoing intensive training with boys from 
 the North officered by boys from the South. 
 
 We had an unusually cold winter. The northern 
 boys said they had often heard and read of the 
 '''Sunny South" but really felt the cold more after 
 their arrival at Camp G^ordon than they ever did in 
 the North. It was cold and damp, which made the 
 atmosphere most penetrating. 
 
 Sometimes I think we over-trained or rather I 
 should say we over-drilled. We had too much 
 ''squads right" and too little of actual war training. 
 That was demonstrated when we arrived in France. 
 My division was on the British front at first and 
 we learned a great deal aJbout training from the 
 British. We learned that the British soldiers were 
 always full of pep. Drilling never became a bore 
 to them, mainly because most of their training and 
 drilling was conducted by playing games, thereby 
 stimulating interest and competition. 
 
 SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT 
 
 I had been through the First Officers Training camp 
 where we drilled through the hot summer months 
 as much as we could stand. Then at Camp Gordon, 
 
26 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 where reveille got us up with the sun, we drilled until 
 the sun had run its day's course and were heartily 
 tired of drilling. 
 
 It was during the dinner rest hour (the last of 
 March, 1918) that I received an order from head- 
 quarters saying that Captains R. L. McWhorter and 
 F. D. Fuller and Lieutenants Henry West, J. M. 
 Burke, L, C. A'tkins and I were detailed as special 
 instructors to aid Colonel Percy Trippe in training 
 the University of Georgia (my University) students 
 during their annual encampment at Gainesville, 
 Georgia. You can imagine how glad I was when 
 I received this order. 
 
 'The first morning of the camp the students were 
 assemlbled in front of the Riverside Military Acad- 
 emy barracks and I gave them their first ''setting 
 up" pxr-reises. 
 
 I had stood during the four preceding years many 
 times on the athletic field before the students of my 
 University in the varsity uniform and had been 
 thrilled through and through when the air all about 
 me vibrated with thousands of hoarse yelling voices 
 aided by the college band playing that grand old 
 piece, ''Glory, Glory to old Georgia/' but this never 
 thrilled me as I was thrilled that Monday morning 
 when I stood before the students of my Alma Mater 
 in the uniform of mv countrv. I noticed when I 
 
WAR MEMORIES 27 
 
 called the men to attention I was looking upon a sea 
 of stern faces. The happy smiling faces that are so 
 charac^teristic of college boys were for a -while 
 changed to serious expressions for they realized their 
 country was at war. 
 
 The camp ended on Friday. I went by home on 
 my way back to Camp Gordon. Soon after my ar- 
 rival my mother insisted that I should have my pic- 
 ture taken in uniform. After the picture was taken 
 she showed me a telegram from General Burnham 
 saying that I was to report to tlie division without 
 delay, which meant that I would soon leave for 
 overseas. My mother w^ould not tell me that I would 
 so soon leave for France until after the picture was 
 taken. Just like a mother. 
 
 When I reported back to Camp Gordon I received 
 an order transferring me to the 328th Infantry and 
 was assigned to the 2nd Battalion under Major G. 
 Edward Buxton, Jr., (later Lieutenant Colonel) of 
 Providence, R. I. 
 
 SAYING GOOD-BYE 
 
 So many boys never had the opportunity to have 
 a '' good-bye talk with the home folks" before they 
 left for France. 
 
 A friend of mine, Ralph Flynt. of Sharon, Ga., 
 
28 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 enlisted on April 2nd, 1918. In 18 days he was on 
 his way to France. 
 
 Ralph was assigned at Camp Gordon to my regi- 
 ment, but I did not know he w^as in the army until 
 aibout two months later when I saw him one night 
 bringing food up to the front line trenches in France. 
 He was with me in the Argonne drive and I watched 
 him as we carried ammunition and food for two days 
 and two nights over the almost continuously shelled 
 roads of the Argonne Forest. And let me say here 
 that the nearest thing I know to a perfect hell on this 
 earth was the shelled roads in the Argonne Forest. If 
 Ralph had received a year's military training he 
 could not have been a better soldier. He was in 
 France a month and a half after entering the service. 
 When he left the 'States he did not know ''squads 
 right" from ''right shoulder arms," but he felt he 
 was a part of something great — the army of the 
 greatest nation on this earth, and was filled with a 
 determination and spirit to become a good soldier 
 for he knew he was following the Stars and Stripes 
 on a foreign battlefield representing a hundred mil- 
 lion people who never heard and who will never hear 
 the American eagle scream for help or see "Old 
 Glory" trail in the dust. With this feeling in the 
 hearts of the American doughboj^'s no wonder they 
 
WAR MEMORIES 29 
 
 were soon able to meet in equal strife tlie best shock 
 troops of Germany. 
 
 The American boy needs but little training to make 
 a good soldier. We need only a small standing army 
 though we need a goodly number of trained offi- 
 cers and non-commissioned officers. 
 
 Ralph Flynt, as I said, was just one in many 
 thousands of .boys who went over untrained but out- 
 fought the Kaiser's trained forces. And he was 
 one of the many thousands ^vhose ''good-byes" were 
 received by letters after they arrived on the other 
 side. 
 
 But not so with me. I was very fortunate. Our 
 happy family, my father, mother, brother Howard 
 and sisters, Mary, Queen, and Frances, and I ate 
 dinner together and soon thereafter gathered in a 
 room at the Piedmont Hotel in Atlanta on the night 
 of April 19, 1918, my last night in Atlanta before 
 leaving for France. My brother w^ould occasionally 
 break the silence by his humor but just before he and 
 I left the room there was a long silence. You know 
 without my telling you what this silence meant. 
 After this silent prayer by all of us my motlher 
 then prayed aloud askmg God to help me to do all 
 that I could in the great fight for the right and if it 
 b« His will to bring me back safe and well. We 
 stayed in the room a few minutes longer and we all 
 
30 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 seemed to feel so happy and when T left the room 
 smiles had dried all tears. 
 
 But I was to see them all once more (with the ex- 
 ception of my hrother) because they left for home 
 the next morning and that afternoon our troop train 
 passed through Athens, Georgia, my home tow^n. The 
 train waited there aibout ten minutes. Oh, what a 
 flood of smiles and sunshine greeted us ! GrirLs threw 
 their arms around my neck and kissed me, girls 
 kissed me before their mothers and their mothers 
 kissed me, too, then the last good-bye from my mother 
 and sisters and the train started. 
 
 But where was my father? All the time he was 
 standing on the outskirts of the crowd looking at me 
 and when the train started he came up to say his 
 last words. He took my hand and as the train gained 
 »peed he ran along with the train as long as he could 
 and just before he kissed me and loosed my hand 
 he said, "Good-bye and good luck. God bless you.*' 
 
 My, I shall never forget that last picture, my 
 father running along with the train as far as he 
 eould until the speed caused him to drop out. 
 
 What do you suppose I was thinking of the next 
 fe-vv minutes? It Avas late in the afternoon, the time 
 when we turn homeward, and my thoughts were of 
 my father, mother and sisters. 
 
 I was w^ondering what their thoughts were as they 
 
WAR MEMORIES 31 
 
 Stood there at the station and watched the train as it 
 grew smaller and smaller in the distance, and then 
 as it rounded the curve and out of sight I knew they 
 started home and that their thoughts were of me 
 and of my leaving them perhaps for a 1-o-n-g, 1-o-n-g 
 time — perhaps forever^ — and I wondered and thought 
 about them. A year later at this same depot I fell 
 into my mother's arms and I thought then, "I don't 
 have to die to go to Heaven." 
 
 WOULD YOU? 
 
 A week or ten days then at Camp Upton. 
 
 Most of the men of the 82nd Division were from 
 the northern states. When we arrived at Camp 
 many of our men were in twelve hours ride of their 
 homes; many of them lived in New York City. 
 
 The 82nd Division was located at Camp Upton, 
 awaiting orders to entrain for embarkation to go 
 overseas where men were in urgent need, and while 
 there many soldiers left the division without permis- 
 sion in order to go to their homes and tell the home 
 folks good-bye, and in the meantime the division 
 sailed leaving several hundred A. W. 0. L's. (That 
 means absent without official leave.) 
 
 Desertion in the face of the enemy? You may 
 think so but wait; read further before you form 
 any opinion. For six months some of these men 
 
32 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 had not seen tlieir families. The men who lived 
 in the southern states spent many week-ends at 
 their homes and their families would come to the 
 camp to see them. All Atlanta opened wide her 
 homes to all the soldier hoys in her midst. True 
 southern hospitality never shone more hrightly. But 
 this was not like being in their own homes and seeing 
 their own loved ones. The wives and parents of some 
 of the boys from the northern states came South to 
 see them but there were many whose parents were 
 unable to make the trip. This is the picture behind 
 the screen. Boys away from their homes six months, 
 then brought back within a few hours ride of them 
 and about to leave for overseas. 
 
 Here's what these boys probably said to them- 
 selves: "Wait a little while, I'll go away and fight 
 with all my might, but I want to go to my home once 
 more; I want to look into my mother's eyes once 
 more and feel those loving arms around me; I want 
 to talk with my dad once more ; these many years he 
 has been my adviser, training me for the battle of 
 life, now I want to have another long talk with 
 him before I go into the real battle of life." Some 
 wianted to see that "best girl" again and another 
 perhaps wanted to see his young wife before leaving 
 and in some instances ma^be the soldier boy wanted 
 to press his child once more to his heart and per- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 33 
 
 haps his child whom he had never seen, so when he 
 crossed the big body of water and went into the fray 
 he would have a vision of his baby w^ith the other 
 loved ones at home when pictures that he loved so 
 dearly came before his eyes. Would you have gone 1 
 The hero in the novel might not, but I am no-t writ- 
 ing a novel, I am writing real facts; I am writing 
 about real boys, what they did in real life. Maybe 
 the aching hearts that were yearning for a last good- 
 bye would have pulled you, too, towards your home 
 once more and then after waving good-bye you would 
 have felt better and would have fought harder. Well, 
 anyway, it didn't hinder the World War, for the A. 
 W. 0. L 's, every one of them I think, reported back to 
 Camp Upton and caught the next transport across 
 the Atlantic and joined us upon their arrival over- 
 seas. Yes, they w^ere punished a little by being 
 given some extra duties to perform. 
 
 MOTHERS NEVER FORGET 
 
 I like to give concrete cases and you will j&nd a 
 number of them throughout this book. Mrs. F. T. 
 Oppice, a mother of one of the boys in my company, 
 came to Camp Upton from Marshalltown, Iowa, to 
 see her son before he left. Mrs. Oppice wanted her 
 son, Roland, to go into New York City with her. 
 
34 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 The (camp was crowded. The (hostess house was 
 crowded most oi the time and she wanted to be :^ith 
 her son alone sometimes; then, too, knowing that he 
 was leaving she, like all onr mothers, wanted to do 
 everything for her son's pleasure. But Roland's 
 pass had been turned down. Only a certain percent- 
 age of passes could be issued to a company and the 
 percentage allowed our company had been issued. 
 
 Roland introduced his mother to me and after see- 
 ing how she wanted her son to go into the city with 
 her I got busy. In fifteen minutes I had Roland's 
 pass properly issued and signed from headquarters 
 and he and his mother went awaj^ rejoicing. 
 
 But that wasn't all. Some people sometimes for- 
 get the kindness that others show them, but never 
 did a mother forget any little kindness shown her 
 soldier boy. Mrs. Oppice secured my home address 
 from her son. About two months after I arrived 
 overseas a letter from my mother said that she had 
 received a long nice letter from Mrs. Oppice telling 
 how much she appreciated what I did for her and 
 her boy at Camp Upton. 
 
 Roland and I were in the same company. A 
 correspondence between our mothers continued while 
 we were in France. Many letters went to Georgia 
 from the Iowa mother saying, ''Have you any news 
 from our boys lately? Have you heard anything 
 
WAR MEMORIES 35 
 
 from the 82nd Division since the drive started?" 
 And similar letters from the Georgia mother went to 
 Iowa and sometimes their letters passed each other 
 in the mail on their journeys. 
 
 On the night of April the 26th, my last night in 
 New York, while in the lobby of the McAlpin Ho- 
 tel, I was very pleasantly surprised to meet my 
 cousin, Mr. E. D. Anthony of West Palm Beach, 
 Florida. He spared neither time nor money in con- 
 tributing to my pleasure, and my last night in New 
 York before leaving for France is very happily re- 
 membered. 
 
 As we "were marching away to board the train for 
 embarkation I saw Mr. and Mrs. L. B. Joel, of At- 
 lanta, Ga., waving a last good-bye to their only boy, 
 Lieutenant Y. Lyons Joel, one of the lieutenants in 
 my compan3\ It was reall}^ a last good-bye, because 
 their brave boy never recovered from a wound re- 
 ceived in the Argon ne. 
 
 THE TRIP OVER 
 
 At 2 :00 A.M. on May 1st, our troop train reaehed 
 the harbor at Boston and we quietly detrained and 
 went aboard the Scandinavian, a British ship. As I 
 walked from the train to the ship, I was thinking of 
 the folks at home and of the long journey ahead of 
 
36 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 me, wondering how long I would be gone — wonder- 
 ing if I would ever come back. A drizzling rain as 
 we embarked helped to make our feelings gloomy and 
 everything look dismal. 
 
 From the Boston harbor, we sailed down to the New 
 York harbor where we lay at anchor awaiting orders. 
 On the morning of May the 3rd, w^e started across the 
 Atlantic w^ith sixteen ships in our convo.y. The six- 
 teen ships like one big family stayed together all 
 the way across, not one getting out of sight of the 
 others. Some days the sea was as calm as the Po- 
 tomac and other days the big waves splashed over 
 the deck. We had the battleship San Diego with us 
 most of the way. When we reached the zone most 
 frequented by the submarines the San Diego left us 
 for the 'States because it was not built to fight sub- 
 marines. It was destroyed two months later. 
 
 There were orders against throwing anything over- 
 board. A cigar or cigarette stump floating here and 
 there on the waves would be strong evidence to the 
 submarines that a transport was nearby. Some nights 
 the fog w^ould he so dense that the sixteen ships 
 would have to blow their whistles every few minutas 
 to avoid a collision. It seems as if I can hear the 
 fog horns now as I heard them during those anxious 
 nights in May, 1918. What a mournful noise to 
 go to sleep by — a noise like that of frogs chiming 
 

 .>.> 
 
WAR MEMORIES 37 
 
 in a lonely far away swamp. And before we closed 
 our eyes in sleep we did not know but that we would 
 awake on the dark cold ocean waves. Several tor- 
 pedoes sent through our convoy would have reaped 
 a great horror. Some Red Cross nurses would have 
 gone down with us. Can there be anything more 
 horrible than WAR? 
 
 Already a friend of mine, Allen R. Fleming, Jr., 
 from my home town, had gone down just a few weeks 
 before to a watery grave, but I did not know of it 
 then. He was killed by the explosion of a depth 
 charge when the United States ship ''Manley" col- 
 lided with a British naval vessel, March 19, 1918. 
 
 We had regular drilling hours on the boat, though 
 the drilling was confined mostly to setting up exer- 
 cises and lectures. Each company had different 
 drilling hours as all could not get on decks at one 
 time. About the third day out, after I had dismissed 
 my platoon I stood about fifteen minutes watching 
 the tossing waves as they splashed against the sides 
 of the boat. I then started to my state room. On 
 my way I passed a captain lecturing to his men. 
 The clear-toned voice, the manly delivery and the 
 eloquent words arrested my attention. He was not 
 explaining the various parts of the rifle nor drill 
 movements nor tactic formations. No, these things 
 had been explained time and again and these move- 
 
38 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ments had been executed over and over. His talk 
 was a heant to heart talk to his men, a talk that held 
 them spellbound; the kind of a talk that American 
 soldiers appreciated. I listened until he finished and 
 went away feeling as if I had profited by it. When- 
 ever I saw this captain after this I thought about the 
 magnificent speech I heard him make to his men. 
 
 Now I want to take you a month or more ahead 
 of my story so as to finish this little episode. The 
 first of July we were occupying the front line 
 trenches in the Toul Sector. This captain led a 
 patrol one night. He was an able and conscientious 
 officer, but for some reason he took several swallows 
 of brandy before going out on the patrol. It made 
 him intoxicated. While on the patrol in No Man's 
 Land, near the German front line trenches he made 
 a lot of noise by loud talking which imperiled the 
 safety of his men. His men were brave boys but 
 they did not care to be surrounded by German ma- 
 chine guns. Finally his men got him back in our 
 lines. Two officers w^ere sent to investigate and re- 
 ported that the captain w^as too drunk to put on a 
 gas mask. He was in a stupor in his dugout. The 
 next morning he was put under arrest and the nec- 
 essary charges were preferred against him. The court 
 sentenced him to dishonorable discharge and ten years 
 at Leavenworth but unanimously recommended 
 
WAR MEMORIES 39 
 
 leniency. The Commander-in-CTiief revised the sen- 
 tence to reduction to the ranks. I understand that he 
 made a touching talk before the court, asking that 
 they place him back in his own company as a private, 
 saying, ''In No Man's Land I have disgraced myself, 
 in No Man's Land will I defend myself." They 
 placed him in our regiment but not in his old com- 
 pany thinking that would be too much of an em- 
 barrassment for him. Did he redeem himself, you 
 are no doubt asking? He led patrols way into the 
 enemy lines, while in the Toul sector, he rendered 
 valuable work in the St. Mihiel drive and his service 
 in the Argonne was brilliant. He would go out by 
 himself and bring back German officers' helmets and 
 pistols and other evidences of his bravery but one 
 day he went too far, one day the steel of the enemy 
 took his life and he was laid to rest besides the 
 many others of our regiment in the graveyard at 
 Chatel Ohehery. 
 
 Lots 'of interesting things happened b<efore we 
 landed. When we got into the danger zone we slept 
 in our clothes with our life belts tied around us. 
 Occasionally we w^ould get a wireless that a subma- 
 rine had been sighted at a certain point and if it 
 was near by our ships would start a zig-zag course. 
 
 We were all anxious to know where we would land, 
 but the Captain of the ship did not know himself 
 
40 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 until the sulDmarine chasers met us off the Irish coast 
 and gave the Captain his landing orders. The de- 
 stroyers knew where the submarines had been re- 
 cently sighted, so they knew where it would be safer 
 for us to land. We landed in Liverpool, May 16th. 
 We weren't through dodging submarines though, as 
 we had to cross the Channel. 
 
 OUR STAY IN ENGLAND 
 
 We were very fortunate to have landed at Liver- 
 pool, for this enabled us to travel through England. 
 It was twilight when we marched off the boat. Soon 
 we were on our w^ay to a rest camp on the outskirts 
 of the city. 
 
 We marched through the residential section. On 
 our occasional halts for rest, people would stop and 
 talk to us. An old man shook my hand and told me 
 how glad he Avas to see us. He meant every w^ord of 
 it. The German drive which started on March 21st, 
 and the succeeding drives of the common enemy had 
 cast a gloomy cloud over England and the sight of 
 healthy, husky Americans streaming through their 
 country to the western front was a glorious spec- 
 tacle to our British friends. It made them forget the 
 years gone by when we whipped them for our inde- 
 pendence. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 41 
 
 We were at the rest camp only a couple of days 
 when the order came for us to entrain for South- 
 ampton. When we marched down to the depot and 
 saw the train that we were to board we could not 
 help but comment on the engine and coaches, which 
 were small in comparison with those on our great 
 railway systems. The small engine and coaches re- 
 minded me of little toy trains. We saw many other 
 things that demonstrated how we had surpassed in 
 many respects our mother country. 
 
 So we started our day's ride from one port town 
 to another — ^Liverpool to Southampton. ''Beautifur' 
 and '' picturesque" fall far short of describing the 
 scenery that we saw as we journeyed through Eng- 
 land. The beautiful little castles nestling among the 
 green hillsides and the herds of sheep grazing in the 
 valleys made pictures of ideal beauty, pictures that 
 linger now in my memory when I think of England. 
 
 While enjoying this ride across England I was not 
 aware of the fact that a fellow townsman and class- 
 mate of mine was buried somewhere in the beautiful 
 country I was admiring. Lieutenant Robert J. Grif- 
 fith was killed just a few weeks before this, May 
 9th, in an airplane accident. And from that time on 
 I have heard of many of my friends who gave their 
 lives in the World War, and even at this late date 
 
42 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 occasionally I hear for the first time of some one I 
 knew who died in the service. 
 
 About noon our train stopped in a little city for 
 twenty minutes and we were served hot tea and 
 sandwiches. As I had expected, the tea was sugar- 
 less, but I was prepared for it. Just before I left 
 Camp Gordon, Professor and Mrs. S. V. Sanford of 
 Athens, Ga., received a letter from their son, Lieuten- 
 ant Shelton Sanford, ( who was among the first to go 
 overseas) saying that it would not be a bad idea if 
 the boys just leaving for France would bring a little 
 sugar with them. Mrs. Sanford mentioned it to my 
 mother wlio told me about it in one of our conversa- 
 tions over long distance telephone while I was at 
 Camp Upton. Lieutenant Joel and I bought five 
 pounds of lump sugar in New York and it came in 
 very handy. 
 
 Upon our arrival at Southampton we marched to 
 another rest camp. The second day there each man 
 was given an autographed letter from the King. I 
 sent mine home. 
 
 Here's a copy of the letter: 
 
 ''WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 iSoldiers of the United States, the people of the 
 British Isles welcome you on your way to take your 
 stand beside the armies of many Nations now fighting 
 
WAR MEMORIES 43 
 
 in tlie Old World the great battle for human freedom. 
 
 The armies will gain new heart and spirit in your 
 company. I wish I could shake the hand of each 
 one of you and bid you God speed on your mission. 
 
 GEORGE R. I. 
 
 April, 1918." 
 
 King George is all right, but he certainly liked to 
 have his picture taken. I saw^ his picture in papers 
 and magazines while overseas oftener than I saiw 
 the picture of any of the other prominent men. Most 
 of the pictures I saw of the King showed him deco- 
 rating a hero for gallantry in action or devotion 
 "above and beyond the call of duty" and I liked to 
 see such pictures. 
 
 The King was a busy man, frequently reviewing 
 his many troops from different parts of the world. 
 On his dominions the sun never sets and over 
 400,000,000 people recognize the sovereignty of his 
 crown. I do not blame him for feeling proud of his 
 great Empire. And thanks to the old King's navy! 
 It saved thousands of us from a watery grave. 
 
 While in Southampton I wrote the following let- 
 ter: 
 
 "Somewhere in England, May 19, 1918. 
 Dear home folks: 
 
 Yesterday several of us tried to hire a car for an 
 hour for the purpose of seeing the city. The taxi 
 driver laughed at us and stated that there had not 
 been any sightseeing or joy riding in England in 
 
44 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 over two years. He said that he could carry ns to 
 catch a train or visit the sick or to meet some im- 
 portant biLsiness engagement. None of these thingvS 
 fitted our case, so we saw the city on foot. 
 
 Today is a beautiful day. One of those quiet Sun- 
 days. Sometimes I forget I am so far away from 
 home. 
 
 It's at the close of day, at sunset, when everything 
 is calm, still and lonely, that I think of home most. 
 
 I feel confident that I am going back some day, 
 but if I should not please do not grieve for me, but 
 feel good and proud that you, too, have contributed 
 to a great and worthy cause. 
 
 With a heart full of love, 
 
 FRANK." 
 
 As I was writing the above letter the boats were 
 waiting nearby in the harbor to carry us across to 
 France and the next night we were again in troubled 
 waters — the English Channel — a regular ship grave- 
 yard. So the popular report that circulated at Camp 
 G^ordon before we left that we would train for three 
 months in England was, as many of the rumors that 
 soldiers frer|uently hear, not true. We did train 
 somewhat in France before we went into the trenches 
 and drives, but it was just in rear of the battle 
 fronts. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 45 
 
 FRANCE AND BACK OF THE BRITISH LINES 
 
 We were in England barely a week. On the af- 
 ternoon of May 20tli, we changed our English money 
 into French money and that night we loaded on 
 small boats and crossed the rough English Channel, 
 arriving at Le Havre, France, very early the next 
 morning. 
 
 I cannot describe the peculiar thrill I had when I 
 stepped upon French soil. The first thing my eyes 
 fell upon was a hospital train of wounded British 
 soldiers waiting there in the port to be sent back to 
 England. It was England that had suffered most 
 in the recent German drives and thousands of Brit- 
 ish soldiers were then sleeping in Flanders field. 
 
 We marched through the streets of Le Havre as 
 we marched through the streets of Liverpool a week 
 befoTe. I think every house and show window had 
 French signs on them and as we marched through the 
 heart of the city the only familiar sign I saw was 
 the one which had on it the word ' ' cafe. ' ' 
 
 The French people could not come up and tell 
 us in our tongue as the English did how glad they 
 were to see us, but they all waved as we marched by 
 and the appreciative expressions of delight that beam- 
 ed from their faces told us more than words could 
 express. 
 
46 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 Way back in 1777 LaFayette landed on the shores 
 of America and offered all he had for American in- 
 dependence. War clouds were hanging thick and 
 dark over us at that time hut the landing of the 
 "Apostle of Liberty" brought new cheer and spirit 
 to our then disheartened and depressed soldiers, and 
 now nearly a century and a half later if the spirit 
 of the dead watches over the living he saw us bring- 
 ing joy and hope to his people and joining France 
 and her Allies in battling for her liberty and freedom 
 and that of the world. 
 
 We marched to our rest camp on a hill near the 
 city. Our stay here was short, too. Man power now 
 meant the salvation of the Allies. Emergency is the 
 best word to express the critical stage of the war at 
 this time. The next move the German High Com- 
 mand would make was a puzzle to our leaders. It 
 was not known then but that he would immediately 
 begin another drive for the Channel ports or per- 
 haps a direct drive on Paris. Consequently eight 
 American divisions were rushed back of the British 
 front. 
 
 OUR BEST FRIEND 
 
 The second day w^e were camped out on this hill 
 we left just after dinner on a long hike. I remem- 
 ber how awfully hot was that day. It was seven 
 
WAR MEMORIES 47 
 
 miles out to where we were going. When we got 
 there we w^ere introdueed to what proved to be our 
 best friend in Prance' — a gas mask. After receiving 
 the mask we gathered around a big Scotchman and 
 he proceeded to tell us something about our best 
 friend. In short he told us that the British ga.s 
 mask that we were going to carry with us into action 
 was a mask that would be an absolute protection 
 against any and all the German gases, and that the 
 deadly gases that we would draw through the chemi- 
 cals would enter our lungs pure air. After the 
 Scotchman's talk we had unshaken faith and confi- 
 dence in our masks, and we never separated from our 
 best friend while near the front. 
 
 Then we started our long, hot and dusty march 
 back to the camp, getting back about supper time. 
 That night we were allowed to go down into the 
 city of Le Havre. One officer from each company 
 had to stay in camp and there was some dispute a.s 
 to whether it was Lieutenant Brown's or my time 
 to stay with our company. We finally decided it 
 with the flip of a coin and fortunately I lost. I felt 
 bad as they were leaving but in a little while after 
 they left one of the blackest clouds I have ever seen 
 came up, and then I was glad I did not go. 
 
 I went into the officers' tent which had in it vic- 
 trolas, pool tables, writing desks, and many other 
 
48 WAR MEMORIES. 
 
 things affording comfort and pleasure for us. In a 
 little while it began to rain. Have you ever noticed 
 how lonesome it makes you feel sometimes when you 
 are far away from home and it begins to rain? I 
 was unusually homesick that night, but after I start- 
 ed a letter to my mother I felt much better. Here's 
 a paragraph from the letter I wrote that night: 
 
 "I want to see you mighty bad tonight and I feel 
 as if I will some day. Somehow, I don't feel as if 
 I'm so far away from you, and I'm glad I feel that 
 way, but I miss you terribly. I made up my mind 
 to write you exactly how I am getting along. I think 
 you are entitled to know, and so far all my letters 
 have expressed my exact feelings. Tonight, I'm a lit- 
 tle homesick, naturally so, why shouldn't we be at 
 times? And if I said that I never get homesick you 
 would know better. I decided the best thing I could 
 do would be to write to you and now I feel all right. 
 I get so m-uch pleasure and comfort in writing to 
 you and Papa and the other members of the family. 
 Nofw when you want to see me real bad, just sit down 
 and write me, and that burning feeling in your heart 
 for me will go away, as it does in me when I write 
 to you while wanting to see you so bad." 
 
 On the afternoon of the 25th we marched down to 
 the station at Le Havre and there boarded a long 
 troop train, and that night we started, we knew not 
 wliere, only we knew that we were still making our 
 way nearer and nearer the fighting. We rode all 
 
WAR MEMORIES 49 
 
 night in those dark coaches arriving ahout day at a 
 small station nameid Eu. Here we detrained, ate 
 breakfast and each battalion marched to small vil- 
 lages. We hiked about 12 kilometers to the little 
 town of Tilloy-Flourville. 
 
 This town was not very far back of the Somme 
 front. The village looked deserted, but there were 
 quite a few old people living in the town. When the 
 old lady showed me the room that was assigned to 
 me, she pointed to a picture of a French soldier that 
 hung over the mantle, and shook her head slowly and 
 said, "La Guerre." She saw I understood. And 
 after that in other little villages I saw other good 
 old French women point to "pictures on the wall" 
 and give a sigh which told me that somewhere on the 
 long western battle front, the original of the picture 
 had fought and died for France. Suppose that it was 
 our soil that had been invaded, our homes that had 
 been crushed and piled into wreckage, and the sons 
 of France had come to our rescue as the boys in 
 khaki rushed to France, then our mothers would have 
 'been pointing to pictureis on the walls telling the boys 
 from aero'ss the seas the sad tale that was told to us. 
 We will never know or realize all that France suf- 
 fered, but we love her with a love that cements us 
 together so strongly that I hope down the ages we 
 will go hand in hand forever. 
 
50 WAS MEMORIES 
 
 Nearly every Sunday I would write a long letter 
 home. All of them w^ere saved. A part of the one 
 I wrote from this little village Sunday morning, May 
 26th, is as follows : 
 
 "I think, long and dream of the days to come, wtien 
 I get back home. How happy I'll be, and how I am 
 really going to enjoy living — just living at home — 
 that is all I wish. I am very comfortably situated, 
 I have a room in a nice large home, a beautiful 
 French home, and the sweetest old lady lives here in 
 it all alone. This is a quiet, quaint old village, very 
 beautiful — the old church sits across the street, older 
 probably than any church in America. The people 
 are going home from church now and I can hear them 
 talking, but not a word do I understand. I have 
 a front room with two large window\s opening on the 
 street. I offered the old lady here in the house some 
 money for bringing me some water and she refused it, 
 then I offered her a few lumps of sugar and she took 
 them gladly and willingly. 
 
 Have had very few hardships, little inconveniences, 
 that's all. I wouldn't feel right if everything went 
 along smoothly; in fact I would be disappointed, 
 because war as you know isn't a play thing. The 
 harder time I have, the more I'll enjoy and appre- 
 ciate life when I get home, so all I'm doing now is 
 sacrificing present joys for future joys. The civilian, 
 as a rule, pictures the hardships of war as just death 
 and mutilation, but there are others, for instance, 
 being deprived of many comforts and pleasures. But 
 
WAR MEMORIES 51 
 
 SO far our hardships have been little, and we are all 
 in good spirits. 
 
 I censor the mail of my platoon. They all sipeak 
 of how far England and France are behind the Unit- 
 ed States and they are right. Some of these old 
 houses are hundreds of years old. Many of them 
 have their barns built onto their homes and I can 
 step out of the parlors and dining rooms into the 
 barns. These are the homes of the little village 
 people. But the fine chateaux of the rich are much 
 prettier than our millionaires' homes." 
 
 M. LUCIEN JOUFFRETT 
 
 We started a course of intensive training here. 
 Captain Tillman rearranged our company (Co. ''H," 
 328 Inf.) and I was given the third platoon. I did 
 not have much time with my platoon because as you 
 will see later I had many other assignments, such as 
 Town Major, Acting Battalion Adjutant, Battalion 
 Gas Officer, Ammunition Officer, and Officer in Charge 
 of Combat Train. 
 
 When the Americans began to arrive in France 
 we needed someone to help us in our billeting in the 
 French cities and towns. French interpreters were in 
 great demand. While we were in Tilloy-Flour- 
 ville, we were very fortunate to have M. Lucien 
 Jouffrett assigned to our battalion as interpreter. 
 We all became attached to him. He was over fifty 
 
52 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 years of age but he never weakened in the many long 
 marches he and I made together over the French 
 roads. He was wounded and captured early in the 
 war and escaped and gave his General some valuahle 
 information about the enemy for which he was cited. 
 His peace time occupation was that of a Paris banker. 
 Rarely a day passed that he did not speak of and 
 write to his "dear" wife and baby. 
 
 Our Greneral wanted us to get the experience of 
 moving from one town to another. I received the 
 following order the 31st of May: 
 
 '^ Headquarters, 2nd Battalion, 
 328 Infantry, May 31st, 1918. 
 
 Memorandum : 
 
 1. Lt. Holden, Co. H., M. Lucien A. Jouffrett, and 
 one N. C. 0. from each company will proceed at 
 1 :00 P. M. today. May 31st, 1918 to Monsboubert by 
 marching. Full equipment and rations for one day 
 will be carried. Baggage will be left at these head- 
 quarters to be forwarded by transport. They will 
 locate the billets occupied by the out-going battalion 
 and be prepared to conduct troops to their billets on 
 arrival. 
 
 Battalion Headquarters, Infirmary, Kitchens, Sta- 
 bles for horses, location of incinerators, and latrines 
 will be located. 
 
 BY ORDER OF MAJOR BUXTON. 
 J. A. Woods, 
 1st. Lt., 2nd Bn., Adjutant." 
 
WAR MEMORIES 53 
 
 A few hours after we received this order the old 
 interpreter, a non-commisslioned offiee'r from eadh 
 company and I started on our hike to Monshouhert. 
 There were a few inhabitants in each village through 
 which we passed. Our progress was slowed some- 
 what when we passed through these villages as the 
 inhabitants would always have something to say to 
 our interpreter and he would stand and talk to them 
 until I called him. After several stopped him I 
 asked what they wanted. He said that they all asked 
 him the same question and that was if he had any 
 late news from the war. It was something new for 
 the French people to see American soldiers and they 
 thought they might learn something from our inter- 
 preter as he was with American troops. 
 
 Thoughts of the marching on these roads remind 
 me of a little incident that happened the first night 
 I arrived home. This is far ahead of my story but 
 I will relate it now. I had talked some little time 
 to the home folks and then my trunk was brought in 
 and I opened it and began taking out souvenirs — 
 shell vases, wooden shoes, statues, lace, and many 
 other little things that I had bought. Then I came to 
 a package wrapped up in a lot of paper, 
 
 ''What is that?" my mother eagerly inquired. 
 
 I unwrapped it and held up a pair of old hob 
 nailed shoes. Thev were hard and stiff and the hob 
 
54 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 nails had worn completely off in some places and 
 worn slick and half off in other places and both 
 shoes had big holes in the soles. Thig brought the 
 first tears from my mother. I guess she had a picture 
 of me marching in far away France and she pressed 
 the old rough shoes to her breast and just looked at 
 me as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Yes, they rep- 
 resented many miles on the hard graveled roads of 
 France, and thej^ were the same shoes that covered 
 my cold and wet feet through many miles of march- 
 ing over there. I saved them to bring home with me 
 when I received a new pair. But let's go back to 
 France. 
 
 When we arrived in Monsboubert, much to my 
 pleasant surprise I found that Bob Gunn's bat- 
 talion was in the town. We had not seen each 
 other since we left the States. He and I were life- 
 long friends, so just imagine two old pals meeting as 
 we did, Bob's battalion was leaving the next day to 
 make room for our battalion. We were certainly 
 glad to see each other. We had supper together in a 
 little French cafe and I can see Bob now enjoying 
 those wonderfully cooked French fried potatoes. 
 Jouftrett, the interpreter, ate ^Vith us, and by the 
 way he smacked I know he enjoyed the sardines. 
 
 That night Bob and I stayed together and it was 
 w&y in tlie wee hours of moniiuo' before vre went to 
 
WAR MEMORIES 55 
 
 sleep. I had walked many miles that day so slept 
 soundly wlien I did get to sleep. About three o 'clock 
 in the morning Bob awoke me and asked, ''Hear 
 those airplanes dropping bombs on Abbeville ? ' ' That 
 was the first war noise I had ever heard. Nearly 
 every night after that I could hear the bombing 
 planes dropping bombs in and around Abbeville. 
 
 The next day our battalion arrived. Late that 
 afternoon we had an officers' meeting at battalion 
 headquarters. After this meeting was over, the mail 
 corporal distributed our first mail from home. I can- 
 not recall when I was so happy as I was when I 
 received several letters addressed to me in familiar 
 handwriting. There was a beautiful garden just in 
 rear of ba/tta^lion headquarter, land most of the 
 flowers were in full bloom. It was then late in the 
 afternoon, the time of day, as I have said, when I 
 thought of home most. I went into the garden and 
 sat on a bench and began reading my letters. Every 
 line was filled with bright, cheery words and 
 thoughts, just like all the other letters that I re- 
 ceived while in France. As I sat there and read those 
 letters, I was happy that I was doing something in 
 the great crisis, yet I felt a little lonely and longed 
 for home. 
 
 Among these letters was an invitaton to an exer- 
 cise to which I had long looked forward with much 
 
56 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 interest. Here is the letter I wrote to my sister in 
 answer to the invitation: 
 
 "Somewhere in France, June 6, 1918. 
 Dearest Mary: 
 
 I received my first mail today and the first letter 
 I opened was the invitation to the commencement 
 exercises at Lucy Cobb Institute, and sister, I just 
 can't describe the feeling that came over me, because 
 I have often thought of and pictured you at the 
 graduating exercises and I wanted to be present. I 
 would like to send you a present; but can't, so I'll 
 send you all the love a brother could have for a sister, 
 and all the best wishes he could wish. 
 
 I cut the family group picture into small pieces 
 and now I have you all underneath a sheet of isin- 
 glass in my pocketbook which I bought the other day, 
 and when I open it, I can see the dearest faces on 
 earth to me. 
 
 I don't know but I just imagine America has been 
 aroused since I left and is now putting her whole 
 strength and heart- into the war. I hope so, she 
 ought to, she must ! I 've been in and passed through 
 a number of tawns and cities both in England and 
 France, and I haven't seen one single boy or man, 
 that T could stare at and say to him if I came over 
 to fight why aren 't you at the front ? ' ' 
 
 OUR FIRiST FATAL CASUALTY 
 
 (Several days later I rode a bicycle about 12 kilo- 
 meters over to where Bob Gunn's battalion was lo- 
 cated. I wanted to see him again because I had just 
 
WAR MEMORIES 57 
 
 heard the sad news of his captain being killed while 
 on an inspection tour on the British front. This was 
 Captain Jewett Williams, son-in-law of the beloved 
 Chancellor Barrow of the University of Georgia. He 
 was killed on the night of June 9th, 1918. This was 
 the first fatal casualty of the 82nd Division. Cap- 
 tain Williams left the ministry to follow his flag. 
 I never saw Lieutenant Gunn after this until we met 
 over in the States. 
 
 Tt was dark 'when I returned to Monsboubert and 
 I was tired but T could not go to sleep for some time 
 as I was thinking of Captain Williams. I had the 
 room that he occupied a few days before when his 
 battalion was in Monsboubert and I was sleeping on 
 the same bed on which only a few nights before he 
 had slept. 
 
 TRAINING 
 
 The drilling ground was about two kilometers from 
 the town. Nearly every day we would go out, carry- 
 ing our rolling kitchens with us and eating dinner 
 on the drill field and would not return until late in 
 the afternoon. We did not drill for hours the old 
 ''squads rights" and ''squads left" but mixed in 
 games with our training. This made our drilling 
 more interesting and the days did not drag by as 
 did the old drilling days back at Camp Gordon. 
 
58 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 A platoon of British soldiers was sent througTi 
 our division giving exhibition drills. One day while 
 we were spending the day on our drill field we assem- 
 bled and witnessed an exhibition of drilling and 
 games of these picked British soldiers. The flash and 
 pep they put into their drilling and games were re- 
 freshing. 
 
 Thereafter we began to mix in games with our 
 drill schedules. The gas mask would not have been 
 worth the trouble of forever carrying it if we could 
 not put it on in six seconds and the many games we 
 played with the gas masks trained us to put them on 
 quickly., One could easily inhale enough gas tio 
 prove fatal if he was not able to put his ma^k on in 
 a hurry. You may think it an easy thing to put on 
 a gas mask in six seconds; it usually takes the be- 
 ginner several minutes. 
 
 Just suppose you were at the front. Everything 
 is still and quiet. Gas shells begin to burst around 
 you. What would be the first thing to do? Hold 
 your breath, of course. How long can you hold your 
 breath? Take out your watch and try it. Now do 
 not take a deep breath before you begin counting the 
 seconds, because you could not do that when the gas 
 shells began bursting. Well, suppose you could hold 
 your breath only forty-five seconds and suppose it 
 would take you sixty seconds to put on your mask. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 59 
 
 What would be the result? Death! if the gas being 
 used against you was a deadly gas. 
 
 Just on the edge of our drill field we saw the 
 first airplane bomb holes. There were three large 
 holes made in the ground. They were about fifty 
 yards apart and in a straight line. Later, of course, 
 these holes became common sights, but this was our 
 first look at any of the war signs of destruction. We 
 were puzzled quite a bit about these holes. We would 
 not have been if they had been in the little village. 
 We knew that often the airman missed his mark, but 
 these holes were not even close to a village as they 
 were several kilometers from Monsboubert, the near- 
 est town. 
 
 T recall one very hot day before we left this area 
 when we were spending the entire day on the drill 
 field. I marched my platoon over to the edge of the 
 drill field and had them to stack arms and told them 
 to "fall out" for ten minutes' rest. We stretched 
 out underneath the shade of a nearby tree, and as 
 usual relaxed and half way dozed as you probably 
 have done when stretched out on the ground in the 
 shade on a hot day. 
 
 "I have it!" exclaimed one of the members of my 
 platoon. This broke the silence of our resting period. 
 ''You have what?" said his chum. 
 
60 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ''I have solved the mystery of the three airplane 
 bomb holes." 
 
 "Be quiet and let somebody rest sometimes," said 
 another. 
 
 ''Go on and tell it," chimed in several. 
 
 I looked at my watch and it was time to "fall 
 in" but I wanted to hear how he solved the mystery 
 of the three holes so I waited until he finished. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I figure it is just like this. A 
 German started over to drop a few bombs on Lon- 
 don. When he got this far he met one of those daring 
 British boys who don't take off their hats to anyone 
 in the air. When he saw this British plane he started 
 back home but he was afraid the British plane would 
 catch him so he pulled his lever droppiiig the three 
 bombs to lighten his load so he could fly faster." 
 
 This theory soon spread through the battalion and 
 it was accepted as being the real reason why the 
 bomb holes were so far from town. There's nothing 
 that the American soldier cannot figure out. 
 
 Many planes flew high over us and at first we gazed 
 at them but later we learned not to look up when they 
 were directly overhead because often German planes 
 would come over and photograph our area. The sun 
 shining into a lot of upturned faces showed up well 
 in aero photographs. 
 
 Here we had our first casualtv. While on this drill 
 
WAR MEMORIES 61 
 
 field a piece of shrapnel from an anti-aircraft gun 
 hit one of Company F s men on the foot. 
 
 A LITTLE MUSIC 
 
 In the professor's home next to the village school, 
 Captain Tillman had a room in which there was a 
 piano. Lieutenan)t Johnny BrowTi, from Sylaeauga, 
 Alabama, was an old star on the University of Ala- 
 bama glee club and he could play the rags that made 
 us forget about the war. Nearly every night w^e had 
 a singing feast in Captain Tillman's room. I re- 
 member particularly one night the professor's family 
 opened their room door across the hall to hear the 
 singing and when Lieutenant Brown started playing 
 the "Marseillaise," I wish you could have seen the 
 professor's family. They went wild with excitement 
 and joy. 
 
 One of the most pleasant recollections I have of 
 my stay here is the strawberries in the garden 
 where I was billeted. The lady of the house told me 
 to help myself and I did. About three doors from me 
 an old lady kept several cows. Nearly every day I 
 enjoyed big, red, juicy strawberries with thick cream. 
 As I said before, we moved from town, to town. 
 Our General wanted us to get used to moving around 
 and we got plenty of it. We were billeted in many 
 villages. 
 
62 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 I hold in my memory the picture of every little 
 town we were in, and there are numerous little things 
 that I recall that happened in every one of them 
 in which we were hilleted that I could write about 
 as I have written about Monsboubert. I will say, 
 however, that in every town we found these good old 
 French women and it would take a large book to tell 
 of their kindness and politeness to us. 
 
 A PLEASANT MOVE 
 
 After our short stay back of the British front in 
 northern France, our division w^as ordered to the 
 Toul sector, and on June 16, 1918, our regiment en- 
 trained. Jusit a month before this we had crossed 
 from Liverpool to Southampton and from the train 
 we saw picturesque old England and now we jour- 
 neyed for two days through many miles of beautiful 
 France. 
 
 We were all happy because we were going into the 
 American zone and that meant we would no longer be 
 on British rations. They fed us too much jam. Some 
 of the American divisions that were sent back of the 
 British front remained and fought with the British 
 throughout the war. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 63 
 
 THE DOUGHBOY 
 
 This was our first experience in riding in little 
 French box cars. Every car had marked on the 
 sides, ''40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux," which meant in 
 real language, "forty men or eight horses." I hope 
 the eight horses were not as crowded as the forty men 
 that squeezed in the little cars. 
 
 Think of forty men when night came unrolling 
 their heavy packs to get out their blankets. Imagine 
 the confusion and mix up as tooth brushes, soap, 
 knives, spoons and forks scattered through the straw 
 in the box car as forty packs were unrolled. Oh! 
 the life of a doughboy. I know. I was a Second 
 Lieutenant from the First Officers' Training Camp 
 until I received my discharge. I lived close to the 
 private. You have often pictured him lying bleed- 
 ing in a shell hole crying for water or hanging stiff 
 on barbed wire entanglements in the gray hours of 
 early dawn. But there are many pictures of a dough- 
 boy 's life that have never been told. 
 
 Lieutenant Kirby and I tried to sleep on the 
 floor in our small compartment car while Captain 
 Tillman and Lieutenant Brown's feet dangled in our 
 faces as they tried to sleep on the little seat above us. 
 
64 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 FRENCH COFFEE 
 
 Sometime during your life you have pro'bably had 
 a friend try to do you a favor when at the time you 
 wished he had not attempted it. That was our ex- 
 perience that night. About one o'clock the train 
 stopped in a little city. Those of us who were not 
 asleep had at least gotten quiet. The rolling and 
 bumping of the train had made us a wedge-like mass. 
 All at once I heard French voices open up outside 
 like a barrage starting a drive. I never heard such 
 jabbering in all my life, I did not know whether the 
 war w^as over or whether the Germans had broken 
 through and they wanted us to get out and fight. 
 
 I thought of old Jouffrett, our faithful interpreter. 
 I immediately went to the car next to ours and asked 
 him what was the matter. He poked his head out of 
 the window and in a nonchalant manner said: "Mr. 
 Holden, zey say zey heard ze troop train was coming 
 through and zey have prepared hot coffee for all. ' ^ 
 
 Then the officer in charge of the train passed by 
 and told me to wake up the men and tell them they 
 could get hot coffee if they wanted any ; that the 
 train w^ould stop there for twenty minutes. 
 
 On the platform were large containers of hot and 
 bitter coffee. I told the men about it but very few 
 availed themselves of the opportunity. The French- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 65 
 
 men kept insisting that we drink the coffee after 
 they had gone to the trouble to prepare it. But our 
 boys did not want to get out of their places at that 
 time of the night. They knew it would have been 
 like unpacking and repacking a box of sardines. 
 Then too, they had tasted French coffee before. Ham 
 and eggs might have gotten them up, but not French 
 coffee. 
 
 When the train started the Frenchmen were puz- 
 zled and they jabbered something— I don't know^ 
 what. But w^e puzzled them more times than once 
 while w^e were over there. Speaking a different lan- 
 guage and being of different natures, I think we got 
 along fine with our French comrades. 
 
 OUR NEW AREA 
 
 About daybreak the next morning (June 18) our 
 battalion arrived at Foug. We had slept very little 
 so it was a relief to get out in the fresh air and wialk 
 around. We marched into a nearby field and there 
 our mess sergeant prepared breakfast. 
 
 Major Buxton sent for me as he never failed to do 
 w^hen w^e reached a "new town," unless he knew that 
 Lieutenant Woods (the Battalion Adjutant) would 
 see me. Major Buxton saw me this time and he 
 pulled out his map from his small leather case and 
 
66 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 showed me the little town of Lueey. He told me that 
 oiir battalion v/as to occupy this village. A sergeant 
 from each of the four companies reported to me and 
 we hurried through breakfast and w^ere off for Lucey. 
 
 There were always plenty of maps at our disposal 
 while in France and I had a very good map of our 
 new surroundings. I knew the battalion would begin 
 marching as soon as they completed their usual 
 "policing up the grounds" where they ate breakfast. 
 Major Buxton showed me the road over which the 
 battalion would march. It was about eight miles. 
 I saw a much shorter road to Lucey but Major Bux- 
 ton said it was too hilly for the battalion to take the 
 short cut with their heavy packs. "We put our packs 
 on the kitchen wagon and started over the short cut 
 hilly road. We arrived at Lucey about an hour and 
 a half before the battalion and had everything in 
 readiness upon their arrival. 
 
 Lucey was a little town and like most of the French 
 villages was built in a valley. Steep hills on all sides 
 of the village were covered with the principal French 
 product, grapes. There were a few natives still liv- 
 ing in the village and they kept the vineyards well 
 worked. 
 
 During our week's stay at Lucey, we were put 
 through stiff training. Toul was about twelve miles 
 away and occasionally w^e w^ould visit this walled in 
 
WAR MEMORIES 67 
 
 city, where we would often meet with our friends 
 from the other outfits of the division which were sta- 
 tioned nearby. 
 
 TO THE FRONT 
 
 On the afternoon of June 25, I was ordered to pro- 
 ceed to Boucanville where our battalion headquarters 
 would be located on the front line. I was to go 
 ahead of the battalion and get familiar with the am- 
 munition dumps, pyrotechnics, and various other lo- 
 mtions. There are, as you doubtless know, three bat- 
 talions to a regiment. Our battalion (2nd) was to 
 occupy the front line. The first battalion was to be 
 in support in the woods a few miles in the rear. The 
 third battalion was to be stationed in reserve in a lit- 
 tle village, about five miles back of the front named 
 Cornieville. 
 
 Just before I left I wrote the following hurried 
 note: 
 
 ''France, June 25, 1918. 
 Dear Papa: 
 
 Am in terribly big hurry. Am in good spirits and 
 good health. With all my love to you. Mama, How- 
 ard and the girls and all the others I love so dearly 
 and God grant that I'll do what I can and return to 
 vou all. 
 
 FRANK A. HOLDEN." 
 
68 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 This little hurriedly written note means little if 
 anything to the ^general reader, but it shows that we 
 always wrote home if possible, just before going into 
 any dangerous places, and this was my last oppor- 
 tunity to write home before going to the front for 
 my first time, so you see if I had joined the long roll 
 of the boys who did not come back, then this little 
 note would have been a precious little note to the 
 folks at home. 
 
 I left with Lieutenant Little of Forsyth, Ga., about 
 three o'clock that afternoon in a truck for Cornie- 
 ville. We lit a fat cigar as we left Lueey and en- 
 joyed our ride very much. 
 
 We reached Cornieville a little before dark. The 
 Supply Company of the 103rd Infantry (26th Di- 
 vision) was stationed there and every night they car- 
 ried rations to the front line and support battalions. 
 They never left until after dark as most of the road 
 was under observation. About 8 :30, I got on one of 
 the ration wagons and started to the front. The horse 
 walked all the way and I learned quite a bit about our 
 sector from the driver as we journeyed along. 
 
 The night was a cool clear moonlit night. As we 
 got nearer the front, I could see flares shooting up 
 over in the German lines. 
 
 "What is that?" I asked as three white stars 
 
WAR MEMORIES 69 
 
 pierced upward thrrough the darkness a few miles 
 ahead of us. 
 
 The driver replied: "Some say it is a guide to 
 German bombing planes and others say they keep 
 very few men in their front lines in this sector and 
 that it is to make the Americians think they have 
 more men in their front line than they really have 
 and others say they use the flares to keep us guessing 
 what it does mean." 
 
 We reached Boucanville about midnight. The 
 driver told me th«jt the ration wagons did not go 
 any further than Boucanville because a wagon was 
 going into Xivray one night and the Germans slip- 
 ped through our lines and captured the driver. 
 
 When we arrived 'at Boucanville I reported to the 
 Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion, 103rd In- 
 fantry. An orderly found me a place to sleep in the 
 infirmary. The next morning I walked through the 
 town which was well camouflaged and I found out 
 all I could about the various locations and about dark 
 I went to meet our biattalion which was in the woods 
 a few miles back. After telling Lieutenant Woods 
 and Major Butxon all I had learned about our sec- 
 tor I then joined my platoon. 
 
 The members of m}^ platoon always felt free to 
 come to me with anything that concerned the welfare 
 of the platoon. Just a little while before we started 
 
70 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 our march into the trenches several of my men asked 
 me not to carry one member of our platoon into the 
 trenches with us. They wsaid that nearly every man 
 in the platoon would feel better if he w^ere left be- 
 hind. He was an Austrian and his grandfather was 
 a prominent man at one tim^ in the Austrian gov- 
 ernment. I saw Major Buxton and told him that 
 although this boy was one of the best soldiers in my 
 platoon, my men would feel better if he did not go 
 into the trenches with us. We discussed the matter 
 some little time and finally Major Buxton decided it 
 would be best to transfer him to the supply company. 
 
 I went back to the little shacks in the woods and 
 called the boy to one side and told him he had been 
 transferred to the supply company. He answered 
 that he was loyal in every way and wanted to do his 
 best, but said that as he would be transferred he 
 would tell me something that he had not previously 
 mentioned which was if he should ever be captured 
 the Germans would learn of his Austrian parentage 
 and would kill him. He reported to the supply com- 
 pany that night back in Cornieville and stayed with 
 it through the fighting, making one of the best sol- 
 diers in the company. He w^as put in charge of 
 counting and checking and issuing clothing and for 
 his efficient work was promoted to sergeant. 
 
 Now this boy made a good soldier. Immigration 
 
WAR MEMORIES 71 
 
 is all right if properly limited, but if indiscriminate 
 immigration is not stopped this country in fifty years 
 from now may have great difficulty in fighting any 
 country on account of the propaganda and influence 
 of the foreign element here in sympathy with the 
 enemy. Propaganda is a new science or rather an 
 old science more extensively used during the World 
 War by Germany in this country. 
 
 Four guides were sent back to us for our company 
 from the company we were to relieve, one for each 
 platoon to show us the way through the trenches, I 
 remember the name of the guide for my platoon, Eay 
 C. Miller of Waterloo, Iowa. Our orders were to 
 march in single file, about three paces between each 
 man as the roads were likely to be shelled that night. 
 A big shell hitting into a platoon m.arching in close 
 formation w^ould be like shooting into a covey of 
 partridges hovering close together on the ground. 
 
 Miller and I walked together at the head of the 
 column. Occasionally we w^ould pass a platoon on 
 the road which had just been relieved. We were 
 then far enough back of the front line trenches for 
 the men to sing and not be heard by the Germans. 
 They were happy to be relieved. Eighty-six days at 
 the front, even though considered a ''quiet sector" 
 had been a terrible strain on them. Most, if not all, 
 thought they were going to get their much needed 
 
WAR MEMORIES 
 
 rest and so they were singing the good old familiar 
 songs, ''Where do we go from here boys?" and 
 ''There's a long, long trail a- winding," etc. The 
 Germans at this time were concentrating their forces 
 and were preparing to make a most desperate effort 
 to break through our lines at Chateau Thierry. ' ' On 
 to Paris!" was their cry and the "long, long trail" 
 was winding towards the w'heat fields near Chateau 
 Thierry for the 26th Division boys, and the rest that 
 some thought they were going to get was a real rest 
 — a long rest where there are no wars and suffering. 
 I so often think of that night when the singing col- 
 umns sw^ung by us as we silently marched on to the 
 trenches. 
 
 Miller led us through and beyond Boucanville a 
 few hundred yards and then into a trench that began 
 by the side of the road. We had read of trenches 
 and we had dug trenches back in the States, but now 
 we were in real trenches for the first time. We were 
 marching in single file and followed just behind the 
 guide. Occasionally a guard holding his gun in 
 front of him would say, "Halt! who is there?" The 
 quickness with wliich my guide would halt was very 
 noticeable, but the next few days I understood. Our 
 guards were nervous and high pitched when they 
 first went into the trenches and there were several 
 fatal accidents caused from guards shooting our own 
 
WAR MEMORIES 73 
 
 men because the password was not forthcoming im- 
 mediately after challenging. Then too, the pass- 
 words were French words which w^ere difficult for us 
 to pronounce. Miller would give the pa.ssword and 
 we would move on. Three platoons from our com- 
 pany stopped in Xivray. 
 
 A few days before this there was fierce fighting 
 in this village. Six hundred Germans came over to 
 take the little town but a company from the 103rd 
 Infantry said, ''No." More than sixty Germans 
 were killed and the number of enemy dead near and 
 back of the German trenches was never ascertained. 
 When you get a chance read an account of this scrap 
 or ask some member of the 26th Division about it. 
 Two names— Xivray and Seichprey will live forever 
 in the memory of the boys of the Yankee Division. 
 
 My platoon marched through Xivray past the few 
 ghost-like walls that were still standing, and into the 
 trenches to the right of the village. We relieved the 
 2nd Platoon, Co. A, 108rd Infantry. The Lieuten- 
 ant in charge of the platoon that we were to relieve 
 was at the beginning of the trench sector his platoon 
 occupied. The Lieutenant and I Avalked through the 
 trenches until we came to his last post. 
 
 ''What is beyond this post?" I asked. 
 
 ''A French company occupies the trenches beyond 
 
74 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 but it is fifty yards or more to the nearest French- 
 man. ' ' 
 
 ''What's to keep the Germans from slipping in be- 
 tween our last post and the French and cutting us 
 off from each other?" I said. 
 
 "Nothing to keep them from doing that," he said. 
 ''If I were you I would go over tomorrow and see 
 the French Captain who has his dugout about a 
 hundred yards down the trench and devise some plan 
 whereby your men and his will meet, ' ' 'he added. 
 
 The Lieutenant w^as in a hurry to get away with 
 his platoon before any shelling started on the roads. 
 
 When he left me he said : "Keep your men out of 
 sight in day time. The Germans do not know that 
 these trenches are here, but if the German observers 
 should get a glimpse of one of your men they would 
 then shell you." 
 
 My headquarters w-ere in the middle of the trench 
 sector we were holding. It was a hole dug out in the 
 back of the trench about ten feet square. In one 
 corner was a little box on which were a few^ pieces of 
 writing paper and a candle. Two blankets hung over 
 the doorway a few feet apart so when going in and 
 out one blanket would be raised at a time so as not 
 to let any light shine out. I kept two runners at my 
 post with me all the time. There were little holes 
 dug in the side of the trench where the men w^ould 
 
WAR MEMORIES 75 
 
 cuddle up and sleep in the day time, and where a 
 few would sleep at night ^vho did guard duty during 
 the day. 
 
 Al3out 2 :00 'clock I heard a rifle go off in my 
 trench. I immediately ran up the trench and found 
 the hoy who shot looking over the top of the trench. 
 I asked him what he shot at and he said he thought 
 he saw something in the barhed wire in front, but 
 said it might have been his imagination. I think it 
 was. 
 
 We slept most of the time the next day. In the 
 afternoon a few shells whistled overhead but they 
 were falling way back of onr lines. Later in the 
 afternoon the compiany's mess 'isergea.nt 's kitchen 
 kept by Sergeant John Paul Jones of Talbotton, Ga., 
 was showing too much smoke over in Xivray and the 
 Germans started shelling tlie town. I lay out in the 
 sunshine just out of our trenches behind a lot of 
 camouflage and watched the shelling. It lasted ten 
 to fifteen minutes, I thought our company, except 
 my platoon, had been wiped out until a runner came 
 over to deliver a message. I asked if anybody wa.s 
 left in Xivray and he said that no one was scratched. 
 It wa,s remarkable sometimes how many shells could 
 drop among us and no one get hurt. 
 
 I did not stay with my platoon all the time. 
 Major Buxton had to have another officer and I left 
 
76 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 my platoon with Sergeant Hillis, of Statesboro, Ga. 
 I was permanent officer of the day of our front line 
 sector. We had guards on in Boucanviile all the 
 time and no one ever passed through the town without 
 giving the password. We received a new password 
 every day. 
 
 A few nights after that Lieutenant Joe Wood sent 
 for me about 1 :00 o 'clock in the morning. I think 
 Major Buxton was out making his rounds in the front 
 line trenches. Wood w-as very tired and he asked me 
 to ''hold the bag" awhile. He dozed off to sleep in 
 a chair and I sat by the phone. It was one of those 
 still nights. 
 
 The most lasting and impressive of all my experi- 
 ences in this quiet sector was the intense stillness of 
 some of the niglits. There was something weird about 
 the long, still niglits that made us speak in whispers. 
 So often I would hear our men say, ''Everything is 
 mighty quiet tonight; they must be preparing for 
 something big." A runner said to me once: "Major 
 Buxton said be on the lookout for something to hap- 
 pen tonight. He said that everything seems so quiet 
 that it makes him expect something is going to hap- 
 pen." Almost every night we could hear shelling 
 somewhere on the front but occa.sionally the whole 
 night would pass without a sound. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 77 
 
 MEMORIES OF FRONT LINE SECTOR 
 
 There are many things I remember about our stay- 
 on this front. Strange as it may seem to you, some 
 of our men preferred to be in the very front line 
 trenches in this quiet sector rather than in support 
 and reserve positions because there Avere no working 
 details taken from the trenches and there was noth- 
 ing much to do except lie around, w^rite letters home, 
 sleep, eat and talk in the day time and "stand to" 
 in the early hours of the morning. 
 
 iSometimes only a few men would be awake in the 
 front line trenches out of each platoon but these men 
 who staid awake kept an ever watchful eye over the 
 parapets into No Man's Land. Wlien their time 
 was out they would wake up other men to keep 
 w^atch. But just before daybreak every man was 
 awake and at his post. This is called "stand to." 
 It w^as ust at dawn that most of the trench raids v/ere 
 made by the enemy. 
 
 The men in the rear always had plenty to do. 
 The battalion in reserve would do a little drilling, 
 practice throwing hand grenades and there was no 
 end of "policing up" the company streets and the 
 other parts of the little towns which looked as if they 
 had never had a sweeping. Reserve battalions were 
 
78 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 usually billeted in villages several miles back of the 
 front. 
 
 The battalion in support also had some policing to 
 do, but their hardest work would usually be going 
 to the front line after dark, digging new trenches, 
 making new barbed wire entanglements, quitting just 
 in time to get back to their billets before day. So 
 you can see why the front line trenches in this par- 
 ticular sector were the preference of the men. 
 
 Nearly every day I would watch for hours and 
 houi-s our anti-aircraft guns shoot at the enemy air- 
 planes. I never saw a plane brought down by this 
 method on this front but as the white balls of smoke 
 would bursit around the planes, they made beautiful 
 and interesting sights. 
 
 In every village on the front that had been 
 heavily shelled (except those completely demolished) 
 the village church steeple still towered as high in the 
 air as ever. The church in Boucanville had several 
 hits registered on it by the artiller>^ but the steeple 
 remained untouched. 
 
 I have often wondered why so many of these 
 church steeples were left standing in the front line 
 towns. Some said it was because they w^ere difficult 
 to hit, but T do not think that is true. The Germans 
 were very good at hitting most anything they wanted 
 to and the steeples furnished a visible and immov- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 79 
 
 able target. Some said it was because they used our 
 steeples as a range and guide for their artiUerj^ 
 Others said they used the steeples on their side of 
 the lines for observation posts as we did those on our 
 side and if they knocked ours down we would retal- 
 iate and that a kind of gentlemen's agreement about 
 the matter existed. 
 
 One afternoon I climbed the winding steps of the 
 steeple to the church in Boucanville. There were two 
 signal corps men in the tip-top and they were look- 
 ing out over the enemy territory and making notes 
 of any movements of troops and signs of smoke and 
 any other signs of the enemy they could detect. 
 
 I looked through field glasses over miles and 
 miles of the enemy trench systems and into many lit- 
 tle villages. Their camouflage was almost perfect. 
 I wondered as I looked how many Germans were 
 concealed in the area that I saw. I did not see a 
 movement of any kind. It had the appearance of a 
 place absolutely deserted. 
 
 The Germans across from us seemed to know as 
 much about our locations as we did ourselves. I 
 often think of how we used to sit in battalion head- 
 quarters and talk about how we believed the Ger- 
 mans could probably almost any time drop a 210 
 (that was the number of their largest shell) on us 
 and bury us so deep in the ruins that it would take 
 
80 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 days to dig us out. It is a fact that during their 
 shelling the morning they made their attack on the 
 men of the 103rd Infantry in Xivray three big 
 210 's fell in a direct line, two of which fell just 
 back of and one in front of battalion headquarters. 
 This was a good indication that they knew where bat- 
 talion headquarters were located and missed their 
 calculations just a fraction. I saw the three big 
 holes and they w^re large and deep enough to bury 
 two large automobiles in each of them. 
 
 Now you are probably wondering why we did not 
 move battalion headquarters. I'll tell you why. 
 Simply because we thought if we did then the Ger- 
 mans would drop a 210 on us just to show us that 
 they knew^ that we had moved. 
 
 'Their spy system was remarkable. It seemed that 
 they frequently knew the nights that our reliefs 
 were to be made. I heard that before we relieved 
 the 26th Division an old woman, pro-German, who 
 lived in Raulecourt, where our regimental head- 
 quarters were located, would signal to the Germans 
 the night we would make reliefs so they could shell 
 the roads. Some of the men saw^ a light in her room 
 on the second story of her home one night and her 
 signaling days were over. They said she would light 
 a candle in her room and pull down her curtain and 
 give signals by walking between the candle and th« 
 ■curtain. "So shines a good dteed ^n a naughty 
 
WAR MEMORIES 81 
 
 world" did not apply to the rays that came from 
 this old lady's candle. 
 
 Here is something that we will never forget about 
 our stay in this sector. We kept men stationed at 
 various places along the front standing by a bell, 
 klaxon or piece of iron rail ready to give the alarm 
 should they detect any gas fumes. It was their duty 
 to arouse us from our sleep by making all the noise 
 they could when they would smell gas or hear other 
 sentries give the alarm. "We were often awakened 
 by these gas alarms and my ! what a feeling it was 
 to be aroused from our sleep and hear this noise 
 breaking the dead stillness of the night. They proved 
 to be false alarms most of the time and an alarm 
 became a regular joke, but when we heard one we 
 never failed to put on our masks which we always 
 had strapped around our necks or by our sides while 
 we were sleeping. We knew the story of the wolves 
 and the boy with his lambs and we slapped on our 
 ma^ks every time the alarms sounded. 
 
 Oftentimes we would hear the German gas alarms 
 go off across from us. Some nights gas alarms would 
 be sounding up and down the front for miles, one 
 sentry taking it up from another and so on. I think 
 that some of our sentries at times heard German gas 
 alarms and thinking it was on our side of the lines, 
 began turning their klaxons or beating their iron rails 
 
82 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 with the strength of a blacksmith and then alarms 
 on both sides tJie lines would be waking up everyone 
 within hearing, all because a lone sentry somewhere 
 thought he got a wduff of some deadly gas fumes 
 when probably it may have been the fragrance from 
 a little wild flower growing out in No Man's Land. 
 
 I must say something about Montsec. I heard 
 the French lost many men trying to hold this high 
 mountain during the early days of the war. We 
 were almost at the foot of this giant upheaval. For 
 many miles back of our front the Germans magni- 
 fied our back area with their high powered Austrian 
 glasses. When any movement or any new camouflage 
 or any signs of new trenches having been dug were 
 detected by the observers from the top of this moun- 
 tain they would signal the locations to their artil- 
 lery and from their maps they would begin shelling. 
 This mountain was ever our day ghost until cap- 
 tured in the St. Mihiel drive. 
 
 IN RESERVE 
 
 After seven days in the front lines, we received our 
 relief orders. I was ordered ahead of the battalion 
 to Cornieville, a little town about six miles back of 
 the lines. The battalion there was to move up to the 
 support position and the support battalion was to 
 
W A R M E M R I E 8 83 
 
 relieve us in the trenches. Of course reliefs had to 
 be made at night. 
 
 We had a little railway system just back of the 
 lines and after the battalion marched as far as 
 Eaulecourt, they boarded flat cars on the little nar- 
 row gauge railroad. 
 
 The battalion arrived about 3 :00 A. M. at Comie- 
 ville for our first rest from the trenches. The mess 
 sergeants wiio preceded the battalion with me had 
 coffee prepared when our men arrived and a ser- 
 geant from each company and I had made all ar- 
 rangements for places for them to sleep in lofts of 
 barns called billets. Most of the next day w^as spent 
 in sleeping, resting and cleaning up. 
 
 FROM TRENCHES TO PALACE CARS 
 
 While we were here in reserve there was a deliv- 
 ery of the largest batch of mail that we had received. 
 The ration wagons brought us quite a bit while we 
 w^ere at the front, but the Regimental Post Office was 
 located in Cornieville and we received our mail there 
 as soon as it came in and could be sorted out. 
 
 While here, some of us were granted a day's pass 
 to Toul and Nancy. Captain Howell Foreman nf 
 Atlanta, Ga., and I rode over to a nearby town and 
 caught the Paris-Nancy express to Nancy. My! it 
 
84 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 was great to sit in those seats with beautiful lace 
 backs in a compartment of one of their line palace 
 cars and ride by perhaps the most exquisite scenery 
 in all France. Most of the way the train followed 
 the green valley alongside the winding Moselle river 
 and on the hillsides could be seen the magnificent 
 chateaux. What a change ! Two days before this in 
 the front line trenches — now twisting and turning 
 past scenery that tourists pay dearly to see. 
 
 Nancy was a little Paris, a beautiful city, rather 
 lively to be so near the front lines with show windows 
 filled with souvenirs for the American soldiers. 
 There were numerous fruit stands and vv'ine parlors. 
 The first thing I noticed when we arrived in the city 
 was the entrance to the large cave near the station. 
 Railroad stations v.ere the main targets for airplane 
 bombers and the best cave in the city was near the 
 depot. 
 
 'There were six large bath houses in Nancy and that 
 afternoon I took a bath in a bath tub for the first 
 time in, well, I will not say, and that night I slept 
 between w^hite sheets on a soft bed. Such a treat I 
 had not expected so soon. 
 
 Captain Foreman and I had a room on the top 
 floor of the American Hotel. About 2:00 o'clock in 
 the morning we were awakened by the sirens. Enemy 
 bombing planes were heard near the front making 
 
WAR MEMORIES 85 
 
 their way towards Nancy and the news was phoned 
 to the city, whereupon the sirens' vv'histles announced 
 the approaching planes. AVe threw on a few clothes 
 and rushed down five flightvS of stairs. The lobby was 
 filled with people who had also dressed rather hur- 
 riedly. They had their valuables in little handbags 
 and they waited to see if the planes were going to 
 bomb Nancy; if so, Wiey were going: across the street 
 into a cave. The planes must have been headed to- 
 wards another city that night as shortly the safety 
 signal was given and Nancy went back to slumber- 
 land. 
 
 The next day while eating dinner in a restaurant 
 I saw Lieutenant Alvin Neely of Waynesboro, G-a., 
 who was one of the instructors in my company at the 
 First Officers' Training Camp. I was very glad to 
 see him. He was in the 5th Machine Gun Battalion 
 of the 2nd Division, and had just endured the se- 
 vere fighting at Chateau-Thierry and after he fin- 
 ished telling me what he had been through, T then 
 began to think that we had been having child's play. 
 
 Before I caught the train back to Cornieville, I 
 bought many souvenii's and sent them home. 
 
 When we returned to Cornieville, others were al- 
 lowed to go to Nanc3^ and Toul. We stayed in re- 
 serve a week. We could do very little drilling on 
 account of the airplane observers. A detail of men 
 
86 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 went to the rifle rang'e every day and practiced rifle 
 shooting and throwing hand grenades. 
 
 THE INTERPRETER GETS A OALL 
 
 While back here in reserve we often had visits 
 from staff officers both from our various headquar- 
 ters and the French headquarters. About the third 
 day we were in Cornieville a French car rolled up 
 in front of battalion headquarters and stopped and 
 a French General stepped out. He was the Command- 
 er of the 32nd Frencli Corps, and at this time our 
 division formed a part of that coi"ps. He came by to 
 talk with Major Buxton with reference to how and 
 where we would assemble and what would be our 
 attacking formation and tactics if the Germans 
 should make an attack on our front. Major Buxton 
 was well versed in French but he decided that it 
 would be best to have our old friend, Jouffrett, to in- 
 terpret for him. 
 
 In a few minutes an orderly had the interpreter at 
 headquarters. Mr. Jouffrett became confused and 
 nervous when he saw^ the oak leaves on a cap on the 
 table for he knew tliat a French General was there. 
 He saluted the General and then Major Buxton told 
 Mr. Jouffrett that he wanted him to do some in- 
 terpreting. Jouffrett then began to twist his mus- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 87 
 
 tache, first with one hand, then the other, a great 
 habit of the oki interpreter. He wanted and tried 
 to do his best for the French General, but he became 
 so excited that in a few minutes he was talking 
 French to Major iUixton and Enj^'l-:>li to the Gen- 
 eral, and the General became so provoked that he 
 dismissed Jouffrett and he and Major Buxton got 
 along very well without an interpreter. 
 
 About 2:00 o'clock the next morning when our 
 men were peacefully sleeping in the hay lofts of the 
 village barns the officer of the guard went to Major 
 Buxton's room and aroused him. He told Major 
 Buxton there was a French courier with him who in- 
 sisted on delivering a message to the Major in per- 
 son. Major Butxon read the order by candle light. 
 It was written in French and signed by General 
 Passage. We ^vere directed to take up an alert po- 
 sition at once in the Bois de Jury — the heavy woods 
 and plateau on our west. 
 
 Major Buxton immediately told the officer of the 
 guard to blow "call to arms." The Company Com- 
 manders and other officers instantly rushed to bat- 
 talion headquarters and there found Major Buxton, 
 who pointed out the positions on the map that we 
 were to take up and in ten minutes after ''call to 
 arms" was blown the battalion w^as out of the vil- 
 lage. 
 
88 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 General Lindsey, our Brigade Commander, told 
 Major Buxton that tlie Commander of the French 
 Corps complimented him on the speed shown by our 
 battalion and he was now^ satisfied the Americans 
 were well trained and on the alert. 
 
 BACK TO THE FRONT 
 
 After a ten days' stay in Cornieville we moved 
 up a few miles in the woods called Gerard Sas, where 
 we stayed ten days in support. While here W'e slept 
 and rested during the day and some nights went to 
 the front to dig trenches and lay barbed wire en- 
 tanglements out in No Man's Land. We were prac- 
 tically hidden while in these woods from observation 
 of the enemy airplanes. One afternoon while here, 
 Captain Tillman and I walked down the road through 
 the v/oods about two hundred yards for a little pis- 
 tol practice. Reverend John W. Bradberry of Chi- 
 cago, 111., our Y. M. C. A. Secretary, came by with 
 his kodak and took our picture. He gave us the 
 prints a few days later and I sent mine home. 
 
 After our stay in these woods we moved up for 
 our second stay in the front lines. On the way back 
 into the trenches we passed a Red Cross hut in 
 Raulecourt where we were served hot chocolate and 
 cakes. Lieutenant Fred Barker of Bradentown, Flor- 
 
Captain 
 J. M. Tillman 
 
 Lieutenant 
 Frank A. H olden 
 
WAR MEMORIES 89 
 
 ida, was in charge of this hut and before I go 
 further, I want to say something about Lieutenant 
 Barker. The following is the first part of an article 
 with reference to him that appeared in a Harris- 
 burg (Pa.) paper, written by Melville H. James: 
 
 ''T used to know a man 
 In Ebensburg 
 Up in the mountains 
 Above Altoona 
 Who had a fine home 
 A beautiful wife, 
 Three dandy children, 
 And a rosy future. 
 The skies held no clouds 
 For Fred Barker — 
 That was his name. 
 He summered in Ebensburg, 
 And in the winter 
 He went to Florida. 
 He was a dandy fellow. 
 When the war came 
 He used to read the papers 
 And clench his fists 
 At the stories of 
 Hun atrocities 
 And he wanted to enlist 
 And go over and fight 
 But luck wasn't wdth him 
 And still he read the papers 
 And clenched his fists 
 And swore softlv. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 
 
 He dreamed dreams 
 
 And he had visions 
 
 Of himself 
 
 Helping out — some way 
 
 Any way. 
 
 Finally he got a chance 
 
 And he went to France." 
 
 Yes, he went to France, and the good work he did 
 would fill volumes. Lieutenant Barker served us on 
 relief nights (and any other time, too) as we marched 
 past his hut out of the trenches, tired, dirty and 
 sleepy, on our way hack to our much needed rest. 
 He served us hot coffee and chocolate as we passed by 
 on our way into the trenches, warming and strength- 
 ening us as we would begin our stay at the front. 
 We all loved him, and he thought so much of us. He 
 said he wanted to follow the 328th Infantry when we 
 went into the drive. He did follow us, he followed 
 us into the dangerous places — places that he did not 
 have to be in and he followed us until the 14th of 
 October when a shell came over and killed him and 
 our Chaplain, Lieutenant Daniel S. Smart, whom you 
 will read about later. 
 
 We went back into the trenches feeling like vet- 
 erans. Nothing unusual happened during our second 
 stay at the front. We saw the same sights that we 
 witnessed when there before ; we had the same noisv 
 
WAR MEMORIES 91 
 
 nights and occasionally a night of stillness. Some of 
 our men got mighty restles.^ and began to wonder 
 wh}^ we did not go ahead and fight. Our patrols 
 were complete masters of No Man's Land. Major 
 Buxton got restless, too, and wanted to secure a 
 prisoner. The 82nd Division had been holding a 
 front line sector for over a month ;ind had not taken 
 a prisoner. We had raided German trenches, killing 
 a good many of the enemy and our patrols had on 
 several occasions wounded or killed Germans. 
 
 General headquarters back at Chaumont began to 
 wonder why the 82nd Division had not secured a 
 prisoner. Our daily reports were being sent in, but 
 there was nothing much to report. Memorandums 
 from division head([uarters were continually remind- 
 ing us that the division had not taken a prisoner, so 
 the Battalion Commanders of our Brigade (164th) 
 were directed to satisfy themselves personally that 
 everything possible was being done to secure a 
 prisoner. 
 
 In compliance with this direction Major Buxton 
 with Lieutenant Kirby Stewart of Bradentown, 
 Florida, and Lieutenant William 0. Winston and 
 fifty men from the various platoons started out one 
 night to get a German. I was not 0}\ this patrol but 
 I saw them when they returned the next morning 
 and heard what thev had to sav about Lieutenant 
 
92 W A R M E M R I E S 
 
 Kirby Stewart's act of great unselfisliness and cool 
 judgment. Here is the story: 
 
 'Their object was a surprise attack. Just as they 
 crept close to the enemy wire, a small German trench 
 mortar (minenwerfer) exploded a bomb just over 
 their heads and three or foul' machine guns swept 
 the grass of the slope — a flare shot up with its pen- 
 etrating light and numerous rifles and an occasional 
 rifle grenade joined in the uproar. Our men lay 
 flat and awaited orders. Major Buxton and both the 
 Lieutenants lying near each other, hastily agreed that 
 no "surprise" was any longer possible and only ar- 
 tillery could remove the successive barriers of wire. 
 The men were told to crawl out on their stomachs be- 
 tween flares. The entire party got out in good order. 
 One mail lost the tip of his ear, another was scratched 
 across the eyelid and several had bullet holes in their 
 clothes. Our men could not get to these machine 
 guns from which bullets Avere cutting the weeds just 
 about their heads because the barbed Avire strands 
 w^ere as thick as your fingers. Artillery was the 
 only thing that could have cut through this mass of 
 barbed wire. Major Buxton had asked for artillery 
 support to make the raid and insure a prisoner, but 
 it was refused because the French did not want to 
 expend the ammunition. 
 
 The Germans were not sure of our location and 
 
WAR MEMORIES 93 
 
 were firing a few inches too high. Then Lieutenant 
 Stewart Avent over to the right about fifty yards 
 and emptied his pistol in order to draw the enemy 
 fire towards his flashes and give his men a chance to 
 creep away. 
 
 When Lieutenant Stewart joined his platoon again 
 he had two bullet holes in his overseas cap, one where 
 the bullet entered and the other where it went out. 
 His head was not scratched, but later on when he 
 came to the Argonne fight the Germans shot truer at 
 this brave Lieutenant and on October the 8th, a bul- 
 let this time hit just a little below his overseas cap 
 and he passed away not knowing what hit him. 
 
 There were many back in our home towns thinking 
 about us, more than some of us realized. "While here 
 on the front line I received a bundle of home town 
 papers from Colonel H. C. Tuck. I never see Colonel 
 Tuck now that I do not think of the happy moments 
 he gave me by wrapping some back numbers of the 
 Athens Banner and Herald and mailing them to me, 
 and I read these papers within a few hundred yards 
 of the Germans. After reading them I destroyed the 
 papers as it was dangerous to have newspapers too 
 near the Germans for they made good use of any in- 
 formation they obtained. The home folks often sent 
 me Georgia papers. 
 
94 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 BURYING- OUR COMRADES 
 
 After oar week was out in the front line we moved 
 back for our second stay in Cornieville. On the 
 morning of July 17th, the Commander of a nearby 
 field hospital sent word to Major Buxton requesting 
 a burial squad for two boys who had just died from 
 wounds received while in the front line. They were 
 from the 3rd Battalion. I was sent over that after- 
 noon in charge of a squad and a bugler to pay our 
 last tribute to the boys who had just passed away. 
 
 We secured a truck from the supply company and 
 drove about five miles to the hospital. "When I re- 
 ported to the Commanding Officer he showed me the 
 little cemetery and gave us some tools and told us to 
 pidk out a place and dig the graves. We went a lit- 
 tle way back of the hospital on the hillside and at 
 the end of the row of little mounds that covered 
 American heroes we dug two graves with picks and 
 shovels. Then we went back and got the boxes that 
 held the remains of our departed comrades and car- 
 ried them over and tenderly lowered them into their 
 graves, and after covering them with the soil of suf- 
 fering France the firing squad fired a last salute. 
 We then made the mounds and stood at attention 
 while the bugler gently sounded taps. My thoughts 
 went back across the sea to where the ''home fires 
 were burning." 
 
WAR MEMORIES 95 
 
 We did not personally know the boys we had laid 
 to rest but they were from our regiment and were 
 just boys like we were, coming from American homes. 
 One was a corporal and the other a private. What 
 a memory picture I have of it now! I can see my 
 little burial squad as we stood by the graves, having 
 performed our last duty to them as best we could 
 and I feel as if I can almost hear the bugler's notes 
 as they cut the air that afternoon, through woods 
 and over rolling, uncultivated fields of France and 
 died away in the distance. 
 
 I wrote down in a notebook the names of the cor- 
 poral and the private ^vliom we buried, but I am 
 unable to find this little book now. I have hopes of 
 finding it some day and when I do I want to let the 
 parents of the two boys we buried know of the little 
 burial ceremony that afternoon. 
 
 As we started back to our truck we noticed on a 
 far away hill quite a few people had gathered. This 
 puzzled us. It was not on our way back to Cornie- 
 ville, but it was a couple of hours before sundown, 
 so I decided to go over and see what the excitement 
 could be. When we got there we saw a German plane 
 crushed to pieces and a G-erman Lieutenant and 
 private lying in the ruins. Some one had covered 
 their bodies with a piece of cloth. A French officer 
 showed us the dead forms and they were terribly 
 
96 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 mangled. I broke off a few pieces of the plane for 
 souvenirs and sent them back in a letter home and to 
 several of my friends, and there is pinned on the let- 
 ter I now have before me as I write this experience 
 a small piece of light blue canvas that I got that day 
 from the wrecked plane and enclosed in the letter I 
 wrote home that night telling of my experience dur- 
 ing the day. 
 
 A week in reserve, then back into support again, 
 but this time in the little village of Raulecourt. A 
 week here and then our entire division was relieved 
 by the 89th Division. The Germans learned of this 
 relief in some way and sent over thousands of gas 
 shells in a little patch of woods where some of the 
 89th Division men were concentrated. There were a 
 few casualties in our division but the reception that 
 the 89th Division received on their first night at the 
 front was pitiful. There were over six hundred gas 
 casualties — they were hauled in by the truck loads. 
 
 The 82nd Division was ordered more than forty 
 miles back of the lines, our regiment going to the 
 little village of Rigna La Salle. 
 
 MY GREATEST THRILL 
 
 We had been at the front more than a month and 
 a half and this was our first real rest. It was great 
 to be back of the lines. This was the first time our 
 

WAR MEMORIES 97 
 
 regiment had gotten together in the same village 
 since 'Ae lei't Le Havre to go back of the British 
 front. We could hear the big guns in the distance 
 but that was all, we w^ere too far away for them to 
 worry us. 
 
 There are many thrills that I shall never forget 
 — thrills that have thrilled me through and through 
 and they now linger with me in pleasant memory ; but 
 the greatest thrill that I have ever experienced was in 
 this little village of Rigna La Salle, just back of the 
 frontiers of freedom in France, late in the afternoon 
 on August 13, 1918 while at retreat, when I heard for 
 the first time on foreign soil the strains of the Star- 
 Spangled Banner. I can appreciate the remarks of 
 iSenator Hoar with reference to his feelings when 
 viewing the flag on an American battleship in a 
 foreign port. 
 
 TO ANOTHER FRONT 
 
 Just after retreat that afternoon I was handed an 
 order to precede the battalion to our new sector in 
 the front lines. The following is part of a letter I 
 Avrote home just before going to the front again : 
 
 ''France, August 13, 1918. 
 Dearest Mother: 
 
 I have just received an order to precede the bat- 
 talion again to a front line sector and am now ready 
 
98 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 to go. Our battalion will occupy the front line first, 
 the other two hattalons going into support and re- 
 serv^e. 
 
 I am now in front of the town hall of the little 
 village. The regimental band is playing. They have 
 just played the Marseillaise and the French went 
 wild. But my, what a feeling I had when they 
 played the Star-:Spangled Banner this afternoon at 
 retreat; it's more thrilling than ever when you hear 
 it over here. 
 
 It is getting dark so must stop. I will be in the 
 front lines again by midnight. A heart full of love. 
 
 FRANK." 
 
 And so at midnight I was back at the front in the 
 city of Pont-a-Mouss'on, where our regiment was to 
 relieve the 6th Marines. When I reported to battalion 
 headquarters, I was very much surprised to find it 
 located in a magnificent three-story chateau. I 
 could hardly believe that this large fashionable home 
 could be headquarters of the battalion holding a front 
 line sector. 
 
 The battalion that we were to relieve covered them- 
 selves with glory at the memorable fighting near 
 Chateau-Thierry and had just been sent to this sec- 
 tor a few days before. Our division was ordered to 
 Chateau-Thierry and would probably have been in 
 the thickest of the fierce fighting there but for some 
 reason our orders were canceled. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ^'SOLDIERS THREE" 
 
 The next day 1 went to the infirmary near the 
 front lines to get the necessary information about 
 the billets, locations, etc., to give our battalion doctors 
 when they arrived. The infirmary was in a large two- 
 stor.y electric-lighted chateau. While down there I 
 met James Weddington, Jr., from Dublin, Georgia, 
 who was attached to the Medical Corps. After talk- 
 ing to him for several minutes I noticed my college 
 fraternity (Phi Delta Theta) ring on his finger. 
 Right away I thought about Marcus Beck who had 
 been pledged to our fraternity and who was killed 
 at Belleau Woods while serving with the Marines, 
 the outfit that we were relieving. My father had 
 written me to find out all I could about his death 
 and write to his father. Judge Marcus Beck of 
 Atlanta, Georgia. W^eddington introduced me to a 
 boy who was with Marcus during the fighting and I 
 learned that Marcus had been fighting over a week 
 and that a little while before he was killed he was 
 standing near his machine gun happy and smiling. 
 
 Marcus was below the draft age. A few pages back 
 you read of Lieutenant Barker, above the draft age, 
 being killed in action and now you read of one who 
 was below the age limit. Can you find a more beau- 
 tiful example of American patriotism than this? The 
 
100 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 gray-haired Red Cross man and the youthful marine 
 facing the steel of the enemy side by side with their 
 fellow Americans who answered their country's call ! 
 There are many others, God bless them, w^ho boiled 
 over with patriotism for their country and went, 
 although not called, and quite a few are now listed 
 "killed in action" as the two brave Americans above 
 mentioned are listed in the official war records of our 
 country. And thousands of others would have been 
 with us had not family responsibilities and other 
 good reasons prevented. 
 
 There 's another friend of mine, ' ' killed in action, ' ' 
 that I am thinking of as I write these lines. During 
 the years from 1907 to 1911 inclusive, Judge Marcus 
 Beck, Judge Beverly D. Evans and my father worked 
 together as Justices of the Supreme Court of Geor- 
 gia and were close neighbors in Atlanta and they 
 never then thought their boys who were playing to- 
 gether would in 1918 be fighting in Europe in a 
 World War. Judge Beverly D. Evans' son, Beverly, 
 like Judge Marcus Beck's son, Marcus, was killed in 
 action. Beverly received his commission as Second 
 Lieutenant of Infantry with me at the First Officers' 
 Training Camp at Fort McPherson, Georgia, and was 
 assigned to the 56th Infantry at Chickamauga Park. 
 Here the 20th Machine Gun Battalion was formed in 
 which he afterward became a First Lieutenant. He 
 
WAR MEMORIES 101 
 
 was killed during an advance, by sTirapnel fire on 
 November 1st, in the Meuse-Moselle sector near 
 Preney, France, 'Svhile giving commands at one of 
 his machine guns."* 
 
 Beverly's remains, wrapped in the Stars and 
 Stripes, were laid to rest in his boyhood home, San- 
 dersville, Ga., August 7th, 1921, and a month later 
 Marcus Beck's remains were buried 'neath the Ued 
 Old Hills of Georgia in sight of the house in which 
 he wa^s born at Jackson, Ga. Noble Stibolt came all 
 the way from his home in Chicago to witness the 
 last ceremony of his pal and buddie. Noble never 
 knew Marcus until they met in the Marines, but the 
 friendship that exists between two buddies who 
 slept, marched, fought and faced death together over 
 there is cemented by bands that never bend nor 
 break. 
 
 Some parents will leave their brave boys buried in 
 the soil on which they fell; others want them nearer 
 home where they can often visit their graves. Their 
 wishes about this are, as they should be, respected by 
 our Government. 
 
 *iSince this was written Judge Evans has passed away and is 
 buried by his hero son. 
 
102 WAR M E M O R I E 
 
 PONT-A-MOUSSON 
 
 This time I preceded the battalion two days and 
 so I finished locating the various billets and had some 
 time to spare and was able to see something of the 
 city of Pont-a-OMousson. In peace time the city was 
 quite an industrial center. 
 
 The first thing I observed particularly w^as the big 
 iron works and I noticed they were practically un- 
 touched. I understood that quite a bit of G-erman 
 capital was interested in this plant and that was the 
 reason it was not shelled or bombed by the airplanes. 
 
 The depot was the most deserted looking place I 
 saw. I went through the building. The floors 
 were covered with broken window panes, the out- 
 side walls were marked by shelling and bombing. 
 Weeds had grown up between the double tracks and 
 an airplane bomb had been dropped through the 
 shed and had broken the rails beneath. 
 
 On the east side of the Moselle river which divided 
 the city was probably the tallest mountain that stood 
 on the western front, and this time it was in our favor 
 because it was on our side of the lines. On top of 
 this mountain was a beautiful statue of Joan of Arc. 
 It is reported that the Kaiser and the Crown Prince 
 expected and had planned to view from the top of 
 this mountain, their armies sweeping through the vil- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 103 
 
 lages towards the south into Nancy,, but this was 
 only one of their many dreams that "never came 
 true." 
 
 That afternoon, before our battalion was due to 
 come up, James Weddington and I climlbed .this 
 mountain (from the back side, of course.) There 
 was a good system of trenches on top of the moun- 
 tain which we went into and we followed one of these 
 trenches which led to the foot of the statue of Joan 
 of Arc. Here were a good many observers and one 
 of them let us have his field glass for a few minutes. 
 Straight ahead for miles and miles we could see the 
 winding Moselle and about five miles up the river we 
 could see the Germans bathing in the stream. To the 
 right in the distance we saw the city of Metz and the 
 great fortifications around that city. We also saw 
 what was said to be the Crown Prince's summer 
 home. 
 
 After the first year of the war neither the Ger- 
 man nor French front lines moved at this front and 
 there was very little activity here. This was even a 
 more quiet sector than the one we had just left. 
 There were a number of French inhabitants living in 
 the city, but as we began to move in they began to 
 move out. 
 
 I think there was kind of a "gentleman's agree- 
 ment" between the French and German divisions at 
 
104 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 this particular place on the front that they would do 
 very little fighting. Divisions on both sides at the 
 front had been sent down from northern France 
 where there was activit.y more or less all the time, 
 so both Germans and Frenchmen here would ibe 
 worn, tired and nervous and they desired to rest. 
 Then, too, they had learned that fighting down in 
 this part of France would not have much to do with 
 deciding the war nor help much to hasten its end. So 
 French families could live in their homes in practical 
 safety in the city of Pont-a-Mousson. But the 
 French inhabitants knew the Americans were fresh 
 and new in tlie war and were restless ; they knew 
 we could not remain quiet long but would want to 
 start something so we could hasten the end of the 
 war and go back home, and they knew when we 
 started something the Germans would retaliate and 
 begin dropping shells on their homes. Hence, as we 
 moved in they moved out, leaving their homes and 
 furnishings. 
 
 That night my battalion took over our new sector. 
 The next day Captain Tillman said he needed me 
 back with the company so Major Buxton sent me 
 back to my platoon. The first platoon, under Lieuten- 
 ant Brown, was the only platoon in the trenches from 
 our company. 'Lieutenant Kirby's platoon was bil- 
 leted in a three-story brick building, which appeared 
 

WAR MEMORIES 105 
 
 to have been used for a boarding school in peace 
 time. 
 
 While here holding this front line sector some of 
 the men of our battalion were billeted in very good 
 deserted homes. The inhabitants who moved out 
 when we arrived left some of the very finest gar- 
 dens. Patrick Cody of New York City, who was 
 Captain Tillman's orderly, was very successful in 
 locating good gardens, and Captain Tillman, Lieuten- 
 ant Kirby, Lieutenant Joel and I had the very 
 choicest vegetables every day at noon. At night we 
 ate by an electric light, quite a contrast from the 
 dim, flickering candles that we had been accustomed 
 to at the front. There was a fine piano in the dwell- 
 ing bouse in which company headquarters was lo- 
 cated. We were too near the enemy to play the piano 
 but it did us good just to look at it. Some of the 
 French wine and beer were no stronger than our 
 grape juice. Almost every afternoon an old man and 
 his little girl would drive by in front of company 
 headquarters selling beer. It was difficult to realize 
 that we were holding a front line sector and at the 
 same time having such comforts anci luxuries. 
 
 The reason that we had such freedom on this 
 front is because No Man's Land in some places was 
 three quarters of a mile wide and we had one com- 
 pany from our battalion divided into ^'out posts" 
 
106 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 and the other three companies acted in support of the 
 ^'out post" company. 
 
 Lieutenant Judson Garner from Macon, Ga., the 
 Battalion Intelligence Officer, sent a patrol order to 
 Captain Tillman about noon on August 21. The 
 order read that one officer from Company H and 15 
 men would lead a patrol that night at a certain time 
 and lie in ambush and wait for enemy patrol. The 
 purpose of the patrol was to secure identification of 
 the enemy. Captain Tillman ordered me to take this 
 patrol out that night. The night before Lieutenant 
 Joel led a patrol. Up to this time the 82nd Division 
 had not captured a prisoner. 
 
 Just before time to go out I got my men together 
 and gave them a talk. I inspected to see if any had 
 a cold and finding one with a little cough I substi- 
 tuted another in his place. I also inspected to see 
 that no one was wearing a phosphorous wrist watch 
 that would shine in the dark. A listening post out 
 in No Man's Land could easily detect a patrol by the 
 coughing of one of our men or by a shining wrist 
 watch. 
 
 Just before I left on the patrol I wrote the follow- 
 ing letter home : 
 
 ''France, August 21, 1918. 
 Dear home folks: 
 
 Just a little note to you all as it's nearly time for 
 
WAR MEMORIES 107 
 
 me to take some members of my platoon on a patrol. 
 I hope we bring back a prisoner. The Oppice boy 
 is no longer in my platoon, but is the captain's run- 
 ner. He has just asked me to let him go with us 
 tonight. I told him all right, if the captain said so. 
 Lots of others asked to go but I can't take more than 
 the order calls for unless they get special permission. 
 I know I'll come out all right. I know that you are 
 praying for me and I'm not the least bit afraid. I'll 
 write vou about it tomorrow. I'm well and happy. 
 Love to all. FRANK." 
 
 The moon was shining bright that night, a bad 
 night for patrolling. We left our trenches and went 
 out in No Man's Land. What I saw of my patrol 
 climbing over the trench and walking slowly through 
 No Man's Land on that moonlit night makes pictures 
 that are hidden away in my memory, pictures that I 
 so often recall. Some had little bags of hand gren- 
 ades, a few had pistols and the rest carried rifles. 
 We went up along the right side of the Nancy-Metz 
 railroad. After some little distance out we got into 
 a deep trench. On our left was the high railroad 
 bank, on our right thick barbed wire entanglements. 
 We started to go up this deep trench some distance 
 but the thought came to me how a German patrol 
 up this cut could send a machine gun (they often 
 carried machine guns on their natrols) down the other 
 
108 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 side of the railroad track and slip in behind lis and 
 then sweep the trench with machine gnn fire. 
 
 I then led my men back a little way and walked 
 up the canal to a mound where we stopped and lay 
 in ambush. We were to stay out until 'three-fifteen. 
 On our right was a path that the German patrol came 
 down two nights before and began cutting our wire 
 when our men opened fire on them. 
 
 We were very nicely concealed in the bushes on 
 the slope of this mound and my plan was if they 
 came down the path that night to wait until they 
 had passed and then open fire. About two o'clock 
 one of my men crawled over to me and said one of 
 the men reported he heard wire cutting just ahead. 
 I sent him ^vord not to fire until they came nearer 
 and in sight. What he heard was probably the 
 "point" of a German patrol. The "point" consists 
 of one or two men who usually precede their patrol 
 to prevent it from running into the enemy patrol un- 
 expectedly. They must have heard our men crawling 
 for no other sounds were reported. It was a good 
 thing that the patrol order called for an ambush 
 patrol as the moon was shining too brightly for any 
 other kind. There are several kinds of patrols. The 
 reconnoitering patrol is mainly to find out the lay of 
 the land and positions. Combat patrolling is mainly 
 
WAR MEMORIES 109 
 
 for fighting and some patrol orders read that patrol 
 shall gain and maintain contact with the enemy. 
 
 'The next time you are in the woods at night, I 
 want you to imagine that you are out there "man 
 hunting," then you will have an idea of how it feels 
 to be on a patrol, otherwise you will never quite 
 realize the thrill. 
 
 Three-fifteen finally came and we marched back 
 to our billets. The next morning I wrote home. A 
 part of the letter is copied below : 
 
 "France, August 22, 1918. 
 Dear Papa: 
 
 I have just eaten breakfast and dinner at the same 
 time. I w^as tired when I came in from my patrol 
 early this morning so slept late. I have quite a bit of 
 mail to censor. You see I keep pretty busy. Noth- 
 ing unusual happened last night. We were hoping 
 to meet a German patrol, but didn't. 
 
 The French continue to gain, as you see from the 
 papers. I read yesterday's Paris edition of the New 
 York 'Herald and Chicago Tiribune this morning. 
 My orderly brought them to me before I got up, so I 
 lay in bed awhile and read them. It is wonderful 
 the way our Grovernment is sending so many men 
 over. The more the better. Even though Germany 
 is beginning to realize that she cannot win, yet she 
 is going to fight desperately until the last. We are 
 full of enthusiasm and want to finish Germany good 
 and proper before we quit. Of course, I w^ant to get 
 back home, but, like all the other American boys, 
 
110 WAR M E M O li I E &' 
 
 wouldn't fVcl r\\:\\\ in ^'oiiijij back luitil Germany 
 {^ives up or is iiiii out oT all the territory she occu- 
 j)ieK that is not hers, and is made to pay for the; diam- 
 a^'(^ sh(» has dorn^, and also made to remove those in 
 ])()VV(w over her. 'V\\{\n our mission will hav<i been 
 aeeomplislicd, and \\n\ boys will f^o 'mai-ehin^ home.' 
 I have jusl, b(^en talUinj^ to (^aptain Fonvilh; Me- 
 Whorlii'. lie has his maehine ^un company mixed 
 in with our company. These are bad nights for pa- 
 trolling^. The moon shiiu\s almost as brij^ht as day, 
 but in llie Americjins' se(tlor, No Man's hand is our 
 land. These moonsliininj^ nij^hls arc gnsit nights 
 for air raids, because it is diflHcult for our search 
 lights to pemitrate tlu; moordight; so it is hard to 
 find tlu' planes so as to shoot the anti-aircraft guns 
 at llicni. Fivery night we hear the German planes 
 going over to bond) one of our nearby cities, and we 
 also Ileal- on?' planes going over to bomb a m^arby 
 city of theirs. I saw on?" anti-air(*raft hit a (Jerman 
 plane yestci'day. It, brok(^ on(^ of its wings, ami the 
 f)lan(^ started wobbling. It was higTi, and it wobbled 
 <lown and fell on th(» German side of the lines. T 
 can think of imthing else to write you this time. I 
 hope to get some mail tonight. Love to all. ' 
 
 FRANK.'* 
 
 A LONG NIGHT 
 
 A few nights after that General Lindsey sent for 
 Captain Tillman to come to battalion headcpiarters. 
 Company 'TI" was then Regimental Reserve. The 
 CJenentl told Cnptain Tillman that they ex[)ected the 
 
WAR M E M li I E H 111 
 
 Germans to make a general ;itt;if!k on our front that 
 night. He. did not Hay why h(; f^xpeetf^d an attaek. 
 We had variouH wayn of find in j^ out when and where 
 the 'Germans wouhl attaek. Our many observation 
 balloons often deteeted German troop trains baek of 
 i\\i{\r lirl(^s in th(; day timf;; sometimc^s th(;y diseov(tr(;d 
 n(;w ammunition flumj>s ;irid various otiicr prcfjara- 
 tion.s n('f(;ssjiry foi- miikirif^ a driv^; sometime;-; wf; s*'- 
 eurcd information from prisom^rs; any way our (jen- 
 eral exf)r;elr'd ;i driv(; on our front THAT night. 
 
 AWv.v looking ov(*r the map showing Ihc ioeations 
 of our men, f^-ncnil liindsey told r'afitain Tillman 
 to have my [)latoon g(> out in the trenehes just to the 
 left of the town as h<- thought the (Germans would try 
 to tak(; Pont-a-Mous.son hy fhinking the eity, coming 
 dowrj through tin* valh-y to our left. Captain Tillman 
 returned to the company and sent for me. After 
 showing me these trenches on a map he and I went 
 out and located them. I rr-lurrK-d anrl carried my 
 platoon out there. 
 
 r told Tny platoon that we (!Xj)eet(;d somc^thing \a) 
 happen that night. I placed them in thr; tn;nehes on 
 the hillside almost in the bottom of thr-, valley where 
 General Lindsey thought the first waves of tin- eri(;my 
 would sweep down intr) the eity. I kf;f)t most of my 
 men awake, letting a few sleep at a time in reliefs. 
 T difl not ftxpect th(* drive to start until tfie r;arly 
 
112 W A R M EMORIES 
 
 dawn and not a sound was heard until then. The 
 popping noise of a machine gun broke the silence 
 about 4 :30. I felt then the drive had started. I sent 
 a runner to wake up my men. I felt that it was 
 just a question of a few minutes before the first 
 wave would be coming over the hill and down the 
 valley, and after that the "moppers up" to get those 
 of us the first wave failed to get. I saw the end near 
 but not until we had played our part as best we 
 could. 
 
 I listened for more machine gun fire. I listened to 
 hear rifles firing. T listened to hear the whistling of 
 the first shell from the artillery barrage that usually 
 precedes the attack, shelling the front line trenches 
 into horrible scenes which are almost beyond de- 
 scription; I looked to see the liquid fire streaming 
 toward us ; I looked to see a dark, dense smoke screen 
 creeping nearer and nearer, concealing the first at- 
 tacking troops; I waited to smell the deadly fumes 
 of a gas cloud; but these things I expected to hear 
 and see never occurred. The popping of the ma- 
 chine gun w^as the only sound we heard that night 
 on our front. War is like life, oftentimes what we 
 most expect never happens, and so frequently the 
 unexpected occurs. 
 
 The next day, behind the little hill of trenches, we 
 rested uuderneath small trees and bushes out of sight 
 
WAR MEMORIES 113 
 
 of the enemy's airplane observers and talked and 
 slept almost all day. I sent a detail down to Pont-a- 
 Monsson at noon for our dinner. 
 
 That night (August 24) a little after dark our bat- 
 talion was relieved and we marched back to a camp 
 in the woods on the outskirts of Liverdun, a little 
 town on the Paris-Nancy railroad. It was here that 
 our Gas Officer was sent back to the States as an in- 
 structor, and I was ordered to the A. E. F. Gas 
 School at Chaumont. 
 
 After a week of intensive training at the Gas 
 School, Lieutenant Sam Proctor and I left together 
 for our outfit by wa}^ of Paris. 
 
 PARIS PLEASURES SUDDENLY END 
 
 On Monday night, iSeptember 9th, 1918, I was 
 sitting in a celebrated Paris restaurant enjoying one 
 of those delightfully cooked meals that make the 
 French cafes world famous. But my pleasure was 
 suddenly brought to an end when I heard an Ameri- 
 can officer at the table next to me say that the St. 
 Mihiel drive had started two days before. I thought 
 it was rather strange there were no accounts in the 
 papers about it as the three Paris dailies published 
 in English always gave the accounts of the fighting. 
 This officer said that they w^ere keeping this drive out 
 of the papers. I could see preparations being made 
 
114 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 for the drive before I left Pont-a-Mousson for the 
 Gas School. 
 
 After hearing the above, Paris held no charms for 
 me. The delicious dishes, the fine linen and silver, 
 the beautiful decorations — these things that I seem- 
 ed to have craved and seemed to have been enjoying 
 to the fullest now were no longer attra-ctive to me. 
 
 I began to wonder then if I should have been 
 routed back to my outfit through Paris. But it was 
 the almost unbroken custom to go back through Paris 
 after the strenuous week at the Gas School. 
 
 I had just learned how important the duties of a 
 Gas Officer were. I learned that the majority of the 
 Ameriean casualties were caused from gas. I learn- 
 ed a mustard gas shell could burst on a cold day and 
 do very little damage and several days afterwards 
 the sun could come out and warm up the earth 
 around the hole that the shell had made and troops 
 could be fatally gassed by passing over this shell 
 hole, and I learned many other things at the Gas 
 School that w^ould prevent casualties. It was our 
 duty to detect the kind of gas by numerous tests and 
 tell the men when it w^as safe to pull off their masks. 
 
 I thought about our being in the drive and how 
 often the Germans made use of their deadly gas; 
 iird the more I thought of all this the more my heart 
 ft died. IIow oould I enjoy the pleasures of Paris 
 
WAR MEMORIES 115 
 
 when I thought that my battalion was in the fight? 
 
 That night I caught the fast Paris-Nancy express. 
 When I arrived in Nancy I found out, much to my 
 relief, that the drive had not started. Most of my 
 way from there to Pont-a-Mousson, where my bat- 
 talion was on the front lines again, was up the wind- 
 ing beautiful Moselle river. 
 
 On the west side of the river were large naval guns, 
 safely hidden by skillful camouflaging. These were 
 the big guns that were to play upon the fortifications 
 at Metz. I feel as if I can now hear the great roar 
 these big naval guns made the next day when they 
 chimed in occasionally with the almost continuous 
 lesser roaring of the smaller guns. The naval gun's 
 discharge was clear and distinct, fairly shaking the 
 earth around its base. 
 
 I arrived at battalion headquarters about dark 
 and it was then I learned the sad news that our 
 Major had been transferred. That night we held a 
 battalion officers' meeting— our last before our first 
 real engagement. So often had we gathered together 
 in officers' meetings. Way back— it seemed ages ago 
 then— before we left the iStates, we had our officers* 
 meetings ; coming over on the boat we would gather 
 together to discuss orders and everything one could 
 imagine for the welfare of the battalion and at all 
 of these meetings our friend and leader, Major Bux- 
 
116 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ton, presided over us, and now at our last meeting 
 before the drive, he was absent. Not only the offi- 
 cers but the men had heard the news and they, too, 
 were feeling his absence. 
 
 As we sat there that night, Captain Howell Fore- 
 man, Acting Major, read the battle order. We had 
 gone over and discussed everything. We knew which 
 company would go over first and in what formation 
 and how the other companies would follow. I shall 
 never forget that long dead stillness as we were about 
 to adjourn the last meeting before the drive. I look- 
 ed around the room and the expression on the faces 
 showed that somebody was missing. A knock on the 
 door broke the stillness and in walked our leader. 
 Worried faces brightened into smiles and heavy 
 hearts lightened when Major Buxton announced that: 
 he was back with us for the drive. 
 
 Just after the meeting, I wrote a hurried note 
 home : 
 
 ''France, Sept. 11, 1918. 
 Dearest home folks: 
 
 I have been mighty busy today, but I can 't do 
 another thing until I write to you. Am at the front 
 again. I have just returned from the Gas School,, 
 and as I expected, I had lots of mail that had accu- 
 mulated while I was avN^ay. I get so many letters 
 from so many people and they are all so nice. If I 
 had to name just one thing that helps more than any 
 
!V| 
 
 m 
 
 1 "•' 
 
WAR MEMORIES 117 
 
 other to make a boy feel good when he is fighting" so 
 far away from home, I would say it is letters from 
 home. Letters are the main thing that keep us con- 
 stantly in touch with civilization. The letter from 
 Dr. E. L. Hill did me so much good. Letters like that 
 make me want to fight all the harder. 
 
 I saw Paris on my way back from the Gas School. 
 It's a wonderful city. I couldn't help but be im- 
 pressed with one fact, and that was I saw no signs 
 of real poverty or hardships. A magnificent city of 
 millions, so near the front, and no beggars, streets 
 crowded, department stores packed with customers, 
 plenty of taxis. 
 
 I'm praying for all of us over here, and you all 
 over there, and hope and believe everything will come 
 out all right. 
 
 Please be bright, cheerful and happy no matter 
 what happens. My whole heart full of love to all. 
 I'll write again when I can. Am well and happy. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 "frank." 
 out of the stillness 
 
 How^ often have I seen a black cloud roll madly 
 between me and the shining sun and in a little while 
 the stillness of the summer's afternoon broken by 
 loud blasts of thunder and fierce flashes of lightning. 
 And so, too, on the morning of 'September the 12th, 
 1918, at 1:00 A. M., the dead stillness of the ni^ht 
 
118 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 was broken by the roariiig and thundering of 
 thousands of our guns that started the greatest bar- 
 rage of the World War up to that time, with four 
 hours of continuous artillery fire using more than 
 1,000,000 rounds of ammunition and at 5:00 A. M., 
 just as day was breaking, our first waves of infantry- 
 men went over the top. 
 
 I can see now the constant flashes from artillery 
 that made night seem almost like day and I can hear 
 the terrific explosions from the big guns sending out 
 sound waves that made the air around us ciuiver. 
 
 For three years the St. Mihiel salient was compar- 
 atively a quiet resting place for worn out divisions. 
 Now the American boys, mostly in their twenties, 
 were about to make their first major offensive in the 
 World War. Boys who, the German High Command 
 said, would never get across the sea, and if they did 
 could never withistand ^^the trained armies iof hi^ 
 wonderful Empire — these boys were now going into 
 a major offensive that would add glory to the record 
 already achieved at Chateau-Thierry and another 
 stepping stone to fighting just a few v/eeks ahead that 
 would prove to be the brightest page in American 
 battles fought on foreign soil. Thus the drive began 
 that resulted in over 16,000 of the enem}^ captured 
 and many French villages liberated. 
 
 Our regiment was on the pivot of the "swing in," 
 
WAR MEMORIES 119 
 
 SO to speak, of the salient. The first day of the drive 
 (Sept. 12) our battalion did not advance, as we were 
 waiting for the 90th Division on our left to straighten 
 out the line, but our artillery sent over many shells 
 about a mile north of us into and around the town 
 of Norroy. One company from our battalion (Com- 
 pany F) sent out platoons during the day. Lieuten- 
 ant Bertrand Cox, Lieutenant Charles Harrison and 
 Lieutenant James Gould carried their platoons out, 
 gaining contact with the enemy. Late that afternoon, 
 I was with Major Buxton as runners would bring in 
 reports about the fighting of Captain Foreman's 
 company. I shall never forget what our Major said 
 when he received the news that Lieutenant Charles 
 Harrison of Columbus, Ga., had been killed. He 
 thought a minute and then said that if it had to 
 happen he was glad that Charles did not have to 
 suffer any. He said that he could not bear the 
 thought of Charles having to suffer or being cap- 
 tured and mistreated. 
 
 It seems that the death angel takes the brightest 
 and happiest when he visits our homes in peace time 
 and the same seemed to me true in war that after- 
 noon, for on the battlefield he had taken the flower 
 of our battalion. We never gathered together that 
 Charles' presence did not fill our hearts with sun- 
 shine. Very seldom that he did not start the 
 
120 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ''bunch" to singing bright, cheery songs, and I can 
 hear him now leading his favorite, 
 "It's alwaj^s fair weather 
 When good fellows come together." 
 
 How hard it was for us to realize that Charles had 
 been killed. And while I was thinking about Charles, 
 the thought ran through my mind that this was only 
 the beginning, that those of us wiio would come 
 through alive would see many of our comrades laid 
 to rest amid the shell holes, and before a month had 
 passed, gas, bullets and shrapnel had dropped many 
 of our comrades amongst the poppies. Are you not 
 thinking how, or rather have you not often thought, 
 of how we felt as our comrades fell in battle ? 'Some 
 may think that in the excitement of the fighting we 
 would not have time to feel the loss of our buddies, 
 but not so. Always fighting with the fierce American 
 spirit but never did a member of our battalion family 
 fall out that it did not seem as if daggers were pierc- 
 ing our hearts. How could it be otherwise? Side by 
 side we had trained, marched and slept together, 
 and then when our ranks began thinning out in line 
 of battle, our hearts ached and bled with indescrib- 
 able, silent grief, as on that afternoon when we heard 
 that Lieutenant Charles Harrison lay out between us 
 and the enemy, having given everything for America. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 121 
 
 NORROY 
 
 The afternoon of September 13, 1918, battalion 
 headquarters moved out to the front line and ad- 
 vanced with the companies as soon as the various ele- 
 ments of the battalion could be assembled for the 
 attack. The IJ27th Infantry was just across the 
 Moselle river on our right. Lieutenant W. M. 
 Weaver, from Macon, Ga., a first cousin of mine, was 
 in this regiment. Just before we ''went over the 
 top" at the end of the afternoon, I watched a raid 
 by the 827th on Bel Air Farm. It was too far away 
 to see any of the men, but there was evidence of 
 quite a bit of fighting. I saw what I thought to be 
 a smoke screen and varions forms of liquid fire, 
 heard the popping of machine guns and saw a great 
 deal of shelling. All the time I was wondering about 
 my cousin. 
 
 Just before we were ready to start over, old 
 Jouffrett, the interpreter, got a bad case of rheuma- 
 tism and he told me he did not think he could make 
 it, as he could hardly walk, but the next day he 
 showed up in Norroy and was certainly glad to see 
 me. 
 
 Lieutenant-'Colonel Richard Wetherill was now with 
 us. He, Major Buxton, Lieutenant Wood, battalion 
 headquarters' runners and I pushed across No Man's 
 
122 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 Land towards Norroy with the other companies in 
 the early dusk. We did not follow the roads as we 
 thought they would probably be shelled, so we cut 
 across the fields and our progress was slowed very 
 much by the great mass of barbed wire entangle- 
 ments. As we got about half way to Norroy, we 
 noticed a house in the town on fire. In a few minutes 
 the blazes from this house brightened up so that 
 we were able to see the outline of the housetops in 
 the village. I thought the Germans on leaving had 
 set the town on fire, but later it was discovered that 
 only one home burned, and this is supposed to have 
 been fired by reason of the shelling from our ar- 
 tillery. 
 
 I remember as we were walking along I heard a 
 peculiar whistling noise in the bushes nearby. I 
 told Colonel Wetherill and Major Buxton that it 
 might be a German giving signals. We stopped and 
 found that it was just an innocent little bird. Every 
 little noise attracted us. Just before we reached the 
 outskirts of Norroy, we heard voices a little to our 
 right. We found it was Lieutenant Kirby Stewart 
 talking to his platoon, getting them through some 
 bad places. 
 
 We entered Norroy through a hole in a stone wall 
 that a shell had made, and walked up a side street 
 into the main street of the town. The only noise 
 
WAR MEMORIES 123 
 
 that we heard was the running of water in the little 
 fountain in the middle of the main street and a few 
 barks from a lonely dog. 
 
 But we were not alone in Norroy that night. We 
 thought we were, but there were others — others 
 whose hearts were heavy — others who had endured 
 years of hardships under the enemy and now were 
 subjected to the most terrible horrors and fright. 
 
 Four years (lacking ten days) before this time, the 
 Germans entered and captured the town and with it 
 many inhabitants who did not have time to escape. 
 The Germans sent some of the inhabitants back to 
 work in ammunition factories and do other work, 
 and some were kept in the town to work for the sol- 
 diers holding it. We dropped many shells into Nor- 
 roy before going into the town. The Germans as they 
 withdrew tried to carry all of the French inhabi- 
 tants with them. They left in such a hurry that 
 about seventeen (mostly old men and women) hid in 
 the cellars. It is reported that they dragged an 
 old Priest out bareheaded. 
 
 About an hour after we went into Norroy, I dozed 
 off to sleep for a few hours and awoke just as it was 
 getting light. I decided to walk around the town and 
 started out a street toward the northern end of the 
 village. I looked up and I could hardly believe what 
 T ^-aw before me — it was a woman running towards 
 
124 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 me, crying, with mouth bleeding and body trembling. 
 She tried to tell me her feelings. The Germans had 
 warned her against the American soldiers. Down 
 the street she could see other American soldiers who 
 were also rambling around. After going through the 
 awful shelling the night and day before she probably 
 thought that she had now reached the end of it all. 
 Of the little French I knew, none of it seemed to fit 
 in a case like this, but I think she could tell from my 
 expression and the soft way I patted her on her arm 
 that the Americans were not there to harm her, but 
 instead to deliver her from four long years of 
 anxious, weary and dreadful life. 
 
 I then sent for one of my men who could speak 
 French and he assured her in the best French words 
 he could possibly put together, that the Americans 
 had come over to help fight for her country. iShe 
 recovered from her fright and carried us about two 
 blocks away and down into a cellar, where a lady 
 wounded during the shelling was lying on a bed and 
 crying. She told us of her old father who was 
 caught underneath a fallen building nearbj^ 
 
 As the sun rose higher and higher we could see 
 more and more of the inhabitants coming out of 
 cellars. We advised them to get out of the town as 
 quickly as possible. I can see the picture now they 
 made leaving Norro}^ that afternoon, sitxeen or sev- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 121 
 
 enteen of them, mostly old men and women, carrying 
 in their little baskets strapped on their backs all they 
 were able to take away. They hadn't gone very far 
 before they heard their home town shelled by the 
 Germans as it wa^ never shelled before. At the same 
 time it w^as gassed with a deadly gas. 
 
 I went back down the street to where we had our 
 battalion headquarters, and I found a dozen or more 
 gathered around a tall, shabbily dressed, hungry 
 looking prisoner. We asked him many questions. 
 He said a number of Germans did not withdraw from 
 the town until shortly before we entered. This was 
 evident by the food we found on several tables partly 
 eaten. The prisoner said he had no idea of the num- 
 ber of American soldiers in France. 
 
 There w^ere many interesting things discovered 
 that morning as we scattered through the town. The 
 first thing I saw of interest was a German officers' 
 club room. In it were a number of cigarettes and a 
 good many boxes of cigars. I found a box of cigars 
 named the "Kaiser." 
 
 The Germans seemed to have plenty of sugar and 
 a good deal of American canned milk. After I ram- 
 bled through these club rooms I went next door. 
 ''Have a drink. Lieutenant?" one of my old platoon 
 boys said, who was behind the counter and serving 
 beer to his friends. He turned the faucet under- 
 
126 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 neath the counter and the beer came out of a long 
 curved tube that reached about three feet above the 
 counter. It reminded me of the way the drug stores 
 served drinks when I was a little boy. Then I walked 
 out and .saw my old platoon boys rolling a keg of 
 beer down the street over the rough stones that had 
 fallen from the wrecked stores. 
 
 Do not misunderstand me here. At no time did 
 wine or beer interfere with the American boys fight- 
 ing. The beer in Norroy was mild and the men in 
 the town touched it sparingly. 
 
 Almost every little French village had a flowing 
 fountain on tlie main street in the center of the vil- 
 lage. This part of France is hilly and most of the 
 towns were built in valleys and tlie inhabitants could 
 utilize their springs and little streams to good ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 A number of boys were shaving at the fountain in 
 Norroy that morning. Laying their steel mirrors on 
 the stone around the fountain and lathering their 
 faces with the fresh flowing water, fhey made a pic- 
 ture that made one feel as if the war was being fought 
 far away. 
 
 We found several goats and a number of fat Bel- 
 gian rabbits left in the town and our mess sergeant 
 planned a big feast, but you will see later we had no 
 time for feasting. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 127 
 
 This good time walking through the town, looking 
 for souvenirs, etc., did not last long. The Germans 
 were never idle. Their field glasses were focused on 
 us from nearby hilltops, and it was not long before 
 they communicated to their artillery that Norroy was 
 filled witli American soldiers. 
 
 THE GAS ATTACK 
 
 Just before the shelling began our old interpreter 
 came up to me and said: ''Mr. Holden, have you an 
 extra gas mask for me? I left mine in Pont-a-Mous- 
 son." 
 
 Fortunately, I had one extra mask that I brought 
 with me through the thick barbed wire entanglements 
 the night before into Norroy. Sometimes a piece of 
 shrapnel would hit a mask and thereby render it use- 
 less, so I carried an extra one for use in case of emer- 
 gency. This was an emergency. A few minutes after 
 I gave Mr. Jouffrett the mask the shelling began and 
 if I had not carried the extra mask with me the old 
 man w'ould never have done any more banking bus- 
 iness in Paris. 
 
 The shelling began about noon. The little village 
 was in a valley. The Germans had weather experts 
 on every front and they always figured in their gas 
 attacks. That afternoon the wind was blowing mild- 
 
128 WAR M E M R 1 E 
 
 \y in a southeastern direction. The Germans dropped 
 their first shells (about three hundred) filled .with 
 sneezing gas, in the northwestern part of the town 
 and this sneezing gas was blown through the town. 
 
 I was Battalion Gas Officer. At the Gas School I 
 became familiar with the odor of the gases and when 
 the first shell burst I immediately detected sneezing 
 gas and knew that we were in for a siege of it. I 
 went through the village and the trenches near the 
 village to have every man put on his gas mask. 
 Some had theirs on before I got to them. 
 
 I knew that the sneezing gas was a forerunner of 
 some of the fatal gases. Their object was to get our 
 men to sneezing so they would not be able to keep on 
 their masks when they shelled us with their deadly 
 gas. I only remember one man who sneezed so that 
 he was unable to keep on his mask. 
 
 After the village was filled Avith this sneezing gas 
 the shelling ceased. It was then that my Gas Ser- 
 geant and I kept busy running through Norroy, 
 telling the men to keep on their masks ; that if they 
 did not they would be unable by inhaling the sneez- 
 ing gas to keep them on in a few minutes when we 
 would be shelled with phosgene or mustard gas. 
 
 The Germans decided on their deadly mustard gas 
 and they began sending it over mixed with high ex- 
 plosives. They were trying to scatter it so that the 
 
WAR MEMORIES 129 
 
 liquid would spatter on us, burning our flesh before 
 it evaporated into the fumes when it would burn our 
 lungs. Shells filled with shrapnel and gas were burst- 
 ing through the town and many of them hit very 
 close to us. 
 
 About 3 :00 o'clock I went into battalion headquar- 
 ters, a hall which the Germans used for a soldiers' 
 club and dining room. It was rather dark in there. 
 High explosives were knocking down a few large 
 buildings just a little way up the street. My ! what 
 if one of those big shells had hit this old hall. Lieu- 
 tenant "Wood was trying to take orders over the 
 phone from regimental headquarters with his mask 
 on. There were about thirty men in the room. Col- 
 onel Wetherill would ask me every now and then if 
 it was safe for them to take off their masks. I would 
 test and say ''No!" and they would all give a long 
 sigh. I then ran out on the hillside in the trenches 
 and scented no gas there at all, but when I looked 
 down into Norroy the gas clung in the valley town as 
 smoke settles in lowlands on a hot summer's after- 
 noon. 
 
 While returning to battalion headquarters, I pass- 
 ed Lieutenant Joel stretched out in a doorway. He 
 had gotten too much gas, but soon recovered after 
 staying in a hospital a few days. When I arrived at 
 battalion headquarters I found the hall still filled 
 
130 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 with gas. I then went out on the northwestern edge 
 of the town and found a house there that would do 
 for battalion headciuarters. I immediately went again 
 to battalion headquarters and suggested to Major 
 Buxton to move headquarters out there, which he 
 did. How lucky we were in doing so, because not 
 long after that shells knocked this building down, 
 and if we had stayed there probably all of us would 
 have been buried beneath the fallen walls. After 
 moving to our new headquarters we pulled off our 
 masks after wearing them four long hours. Here 
 we stayed until midnight, when the 3rd Battalion 
 under Major Hammond Johnson, of Athens, Ga., re- 
 lieved us. 
 
 When the shelling ceased for a while during the 
 afternoon, stretcher bearers began bringing the 
 wounded from the 360th Infantry of the 90th Di- 
 vision through Norroy. Some of the wounded men 
 had to stay in Norroy until after dark as the roads 
 back of the town were under enemy observation and 
 were being shelled and very few ambulances could get 
 through. 
 
 One of the wounded was too pitiful to describe. 
 He had to sit up on the stretcher. His back, chest 
 and face were a solid burning blister where the hor- 
 rible mustard gas had spattered on him. Not only 
 that, but the awful gas fumes had gotten into his 
 lungs and he was breathing heavily. This, I think, 
 
WAR MEMORIES 131 
 
 was the most pitiful sight I saw in France. With 
 a high fever, sick, and suffering agonies, he could not 
 lie down. Every step the stretcher bearers took meant 
 more pain to this boy — and yet with it all I saw him 
 smile. They were out of water and I held my can- 
 teen to his feverish lips and I saw a smile come on 
 his burning and blistered face. 
 
 There w^as one casualty during that afternoon from 
 Company '^H" I wish to mention. Lacey M. Strick- 
 land, present Tax Collector of Elbert County, Geor- 
 gia, was hit by a high explosive and immediately 
 became blind, deaf and dumb and his mind for sev- 
 eral months afterwards was a complete blank. He 
 regained consciousness five months later in a hospital 
 in Buffalo, N. Y. His recovery was a miracle to the 
 medical profession. 
 
 When we left the town it w^as still saturated with 
 the gas and I stationed guards at both ends of the 
 main street to prevent any one from passing through 
 the village until they put on their masks. 
 
 We went back of the lines that night for a much 
 needed rest. Major Johnson's Battalion was ordered 
 to advance the next day in broad daylight, in plain 
 view of the enemy artillery, and they suffered many 
 casualties before they reached their objective. 
 
 About midnight we started marching back. I 
 stopped and slept a few hours in our old battalion 
 
132 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 headquarters in Pont-a-Mousson. I heard the Oer- 
 man artillery knocked this chateau down a few days 
 after we were relieved. 
 
 It was noon the next day when we arrived in 
 Dieulouard, a little village a few^ miles further back. 
 
 1 got something to eat and then went to sleep about 
 
 2 :00 'clock in the afternoon, in a soft bed in an up- 
 stairs room in a deserted home, and slept until noon 
 the next day. I was amazed when I awoke from my 
 long sleep to find in the road, about 50 yards from 
 the house in which I had slept so soundly, that a 
 shell from a long range German gun that night had 
 killed several men and four horses. The men had 
 been removed when I saw the scene, but the four 
 large horses lay stretched on the ground, disjointed 
 and mangled. 
 
 Then I went to the company kitchen to get some- 
 thing to eat, where I learned that when the shelling 
 began nearly everybody ran to the large dugouts in 
 the hillside and spent the night in them. After I 
 finished eating, T went down the hill and sat alone for 
 an hour by the little creek. How quiet it seemed — a 
 lull after so much noise and confusion, the stillness 
 and calm only broken by the sound of the stream 
 running over the rocks. 
 
 After thinking of all I had been through and seen, 
 I wanted to write home, and while everything was 
 
WAR MEMORIES 133 
 
 fresh on my mind I went back to my room and wrote 
 the following letter: 
 
 ''Monday, Sept. 16; 1918. 
 Dearest Mama and Papa: 
 
 After hours of terrific artillery bombardment, I 
 climbed a tall tree at early dawn last Friday the 
 13th, and saw our advance waves go over the top, 
 which started our big 'birthday present' drive for 
 General Pershing. Later on in the day I went over 
 the top and about twelve o'clock that night we were 
 
 in town. (Note: Stating names of towns 
 
 in letters then forbidden by censor.) 
 
 I have often thought how others and I would feel 
 just before going over the top. I have often won- 
 dered if there would be any signs of sadness. Every 
 man seemed happy, cheerful and bright, and the 
 expression I heard most was 'with the best of luck' 
 as friends Avould pass ' going over. ' 
 
 I guess you are wondering now about the casual- 
 ties. I am not allowed to tell who they are, but can 
 say they were light. I emptied my canteen giving 
 the wounded water. They were all smiles, not a 
 groan did I hear from any of them. (Here I told in 
 detail about my experience in Norroy, which I have 
 already written.) 
 
 I guess you are wondering where I am. Major 
 Johnson's Battalion relieved us and we are back of 
 him. I think he has advanced further. I was com- 
 pletely worn out and I am just up now from twenty- 
 two hours of sleep. I had slept but little for three 
 days, and until breakfast this morning I had only a 
 
134 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 bar of cliocolate, some hard tack and a box of sar- 
 dines to eat. 
 
 Almost every one else slept in a dugout last night. 
 They went to them when the Germans sent over some 
 of their big long range shells, which hit nearby. I 
 would have gone too, had I heard tliem. One hit 
 about 50 yards from me ; I slept too soundly to 
 hear it. 
 
 I have so many things to tell that 111 wait and 
 write them later; then there are so many things I 
 would like to write, but am not allowed. 
 
 I have often heard of little steel mirrors and little 
 trench Bibles warding off bullets and saving lives, 
 and I used to wonder if it was true. I know it 's true 
 now, for I have seen several cases of that kind. There 
 are so many narrow escapes, bullets hitting the end 
 of a helmet or edging off one's coat sleeve. 
 
 Mama, when you and Aunt Anna used to sit in 
 the grandstand at a Mercer-University of Georgia 
 game and watch your boys play ball against each 
 other, you never dreamed that soon they would be 
 fighting together as hard as we used to fight for our 
 Alma Mater against each other. William was on one 
 side of the river and I was on the other, during the 
 advance. Love to all. 
 
 FRANK." 
 
 In a couple of days our entire division was re- 
 lieved and we were marched back a few miles and 
 were billeted on a steep mountain, near the town of 
 Marbache. 
 
 Almost evervbodv had gotten a little gas and it 
 
WAR MEMORIES 135 
 
 was telling on us. We felt tired and weak. My Gas 
 Sergeant made a number of tests for gas, as I did, 
 and he got so much gas during these tests that I sent 
 him to the hospital. We did not know where we 
 would go next. While there I wrote the following 
 letter: 
 
 ''France, Sept. 18, 1918. 
 Dearest Papa and Mama : 
 
 Now we are back of the lines, far enough back not 
 to hear the guns firing. God spared me through, 
 three days of fighting. My nerves held up very well 
 and I stood the strain fine. I just happened not to 
 be where the shells would burst. Often they would 
 burst at the place just where I left. T wish you 
 could hear us get together and tell each other about it. 
 
 One of our Lieutenants had one of the most re- 
 markable experiences IVe ever heard or read about. 
 A shrapnel shell burst overhead and killed a wound- 
 ed member of his platoon that he held in his arms. 
 He then sent two of his men a few yards to the side 
 to observe and they were immediately killed by shell 
 fire. A Lieutenant-Colonel was then wounded near 
 him. He carried the Colonel back to the dressing 
 station where he died in a little while. These are a 
 few of the things that this Lieutenant experienced. 
 He said he was hoping daring this experience that 
 a shell would hit him, but he came out untouched. 
 
 (NOTii^. :— The Lieutennnt referred to in this letter is Lieutenant 
 Luther H. Waller of Montgomery, Alabama. He was wounded 
 later, October 9. in the Argonne Forest and was cited in Division 
 Orders for bravery. The Lieutenant-Colonel mentioned in the 
 letter was Colonel Emory .T. Pike. Division Machine Gun Officer. 
 The Congressional Medal of Honor was posthumouslv awarded 
 him.) 
 
136 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 I don't know where we will go from here, and if I 
 did I would not be permitted by the censor to tell 
 you. I am going to cable you tomorrow as I know 
 you are anxious about me. We wore our masks four 
 hours when they shelled the town we captured. Col- 
 onel Wetherill and Major Buxton and lots of others 
 complimented me very highly on my work as Oas 
 Officer. I got nearly as many compliments as I did 
 when I got the three base hit in 1914 that won the 
 Georgia-Tech game. I feel much prouder of this, 
 because then I saved the game, but this time I had 
 the responsibility of more than 4.000 men (others 
 beside our battalion) and many told me, especially 
 the Battalion Doctor, that I saved many casualties. 
 My platoon had very few casualties but lots of others 
 lost over half. 
 
 "What do you think of the Austrian peace move? 
 We don't think much of it, as no doubt Grermany is 
 behind it. Peace talk makes us fight harder. I would 
 feel mighty bad if peace would be declared before 
 we reached Germany, and I have no doubt that it is 
 only a question of a short while before we'll show 
 German}^ a picture of some of their villages changed 
 like the picturesque French villages into piles of 
 broken walls and smashed furniture and all the other 
 comforts of home life in utter ruin. Love to all. 
 
 FRANK." 
 
WAR MEMORIES 137 
 
 A LONG RIDE 
 
 On the morning of September 24, I saw one of the 
 prettiest sights of ray life. We marched out several 
 miles to board trucks for the Argonne Forest. The 
 entire division was to be moved over a hundred miles 
 in trucks. As we marched to the top of a hill, I 
 looked as far as I could see over hills where these 
 trucks had lined up waiting for us. It reminded me 
 of the last scene in ''Polly of the Circus" when the 
 circus is moving away over the hills. 
 
 Most of us had to stand up all the Avay. Thanks 
 for the good military roads in France. Standing up 
 a hundred miles in a truck on some of our bumpy 
 roads would be enough to put one in the hospital. 
 
 We liad gone about twenty kilometers when we 
 came to a truck whicli had turned over in a ditch 
 while rounding a cui-ve. They waved us down. A 
 few boys from the overturned truck got in with us; 
 others waited to get in the trucks behind us. The 
 injured were put in the truck in front of us and in a 
 couple of minutes we were off as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. Quite a happening in peace time — a small 
 matter in time of war. 
 
 On we rode, over a hundred miles, truck after truck 
 with hundreds of motors humming, passing through 
 vi]]age after village, up hill and down hill, carrying 
 
138 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 thousands of boys in khaki to their resting place in 
 the Argonne. 
 
 Military roads saved France. It saved her back 
 in the early days of the war when thousands of 
 taxi cabs, touring cars and trucks lined the good road 
 from Bar Le Due to Verdun, and the French jump- 
 ing out of their vehicles on the run, rushed against 
 the flower of Kaiser Wilhelm's trained forces, piling 
 German on German, blocking the break through their 
 lines in the attempted ''round about way" to Paris. 
 "They shall not pa>s.s, '' was the cry of these coura- 
 geous sons of France ; they did not pass. They would 
 have passed if years before this time France had not 
 built the good road from Bar Le Due to Verdun, be- 
 cause the French soldiers would not have been there 
 to stop the onrushing Germans. 
 
 There were many other times and places that these 
 good roads saved the day for France. Let us hope 
 that our Government will profit by this example. 
 Our country has the most wonderful network of rail- 
 road systems in the world today, but one shell can 
 block transportation by rail. It takes more time to 
 repair a railroad than a dirt or concrete road. 
 
 That afternoon about 3:00 o'clock our truck stop- 
 ped in the city of Bar Le Due. This was a lively lit- 
 tle city. Here we got out and bought all the fruit we 
 could eat. Every fruit stand gleamed with large 
 
WAR MEMORIES 139 
 
 juicy buuches of white grapes. I cannot remember 
 when the French did not have delicious grapes for 
 sale in their towns. Here I remember seeing our 
 Commanding Officer, General Burnham, who stopped 
 a while in the city on his way to his new headquar- 
 ters. 
 
 THE ARGONNE FOREST 
 
 We went into the southern edge of the Argonne 
 Forest on the night of September 26. For days and 
 nights we listened to the guns along the front. Late 
 every afternoon a truck would bring from Bar Le 
 Due the Paris dailies printed in English and we read 
 of the drive that extended from the North Sea to 
 Switzerland. We did not know w^hen we would go 
 up to do our part. Our division w^as Army Reserve 
 and attached to the First Army Corps. 
 
 We did very little drilling and training during our 
 waiting. Our General did not know w^hat minute w^e 
 would be ordered into the fight so we w'ere kept ready 
 to go in at any time. The men of Company ''H" 
 had comfortable barracks just off the road in the 
 woods, but the men of the other companies slept in 
 little "pup" tents on muddy ground on the side of 
 the road. 
 
 There w^ere a number of small one-room wooden 
 huts on the side of a hill. Lieutenant Junius Emer- 
 
140 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 son, the battalion dentist, and I had a hut together. 
 We had a nice little stove in the hut and plenty of 
 wood to keep off the October chill. I had a supply 
 of good cigars at this time, plenty of candles and 
 we spent the nights enjojnng smoking, reading the 
 Paris dailies, writing letters and talking. The thun- 
 dering artillery barrage that we would hear at night, 
 we would read about two nights later in our little hut. 
 
 M. Jouffrett, our interpreter, would often give me 
 the advance news about the movement of our di- 
 vision, usually getting his information from the 
 French Mission attached to our divisional headquar- 
 ters. While ^ve were camped here in the edge of the 
 Argonne Forest I remember Mr. Jouffret said to me : 
 
 ''Mr. Holden, I have some news." 
 
 ''What is it, Mr. JouffrettT' I said. 
 
 "It is zis, ze 82nd Division will never go into ze 
 big drive, unless zey cannot do wizout us." 
 
 "Why not?" I asked. 
 
 "It is because ze 82nd Division has so much of ze 
 foreign blood in zem." 
 
 The old interpreter missed his guess this time, or 
 the French Mission misinformed him. A few days 
 after that our division that had, as the interpreter 
 said, foreign blood flowing through the veins of many 
 of its men, played a most important part in the drive 
 

WAR MEMORIES 141 
 
 and stayed in action longer Avithout a rest than any 
 other division of the A, E. F. Not only that, but a 
 few days from that time a sergeant from our division 
 distinguished himself so as to be acclaimed by Mar- 
 shal Foeh as the greatest hero of the World War. 
 Sergeant Alvin York, of Pall Mail, Tenn., killed 
 twenty Germans and took one hundred and thirty- 
 two prisoners and I am proud of the fact that he was 
 a member of my battalion and was officered by a man 
 (Captain E, C. B. Danforth, Jr.) from my former 
 home town, Augusta, Ga. 
 
 On October 3rd, we moved forward toward the 
 fighting, marching past the "jumping off point" 
 where the drive started, across the once No Man's 
 Land. The No Man's Land that we had known was 
 a large tract of land, a few shell holes here and there 
 and almost covered with French daisies, but this No 
 Man's Land was quite different. Here the French 
 and the German trenches in some places had been 
 only a few yards apart and they had engaged in the 
 most terrible kind of fighting, such as tunneling under 
 their opponents' trenches and laying mines to be set 
 off unexpectedly. It was a sight one would have to 
 see to really comprehend how fearful and dreadful 
 it appeared. 
 
 There are many pictures taken of these horrible 
 sights but none of them give an adequate idea of the 
 
142 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 original. This No Man's Land was once a thick for- 
 ast but now had no signs of life — trees standing here 
 and there, a few having scarred limbs, the majority 
 no limbs at all, some having a little bark left, others 
 cnt in two by a direct shell liit, and the ground hav- 
 ing been npturned over and over again by shells of 
 all kinds and sizes. 
 
 We marched out of this desert of destruction into 
 the territory recently held by the Germans, At every 
 cross roads were large Oerman signs. I saw num- 
 bers of German graves and they were neatly kept. 
 There was a little wooden lattice fence around many 
 of the graves I saw and iron croases on some of the 
 tombstones. 
 
 That night we slopped on a little hillside and camp- 
 ed until the night of October 6th, w^hen w^e marched 
 up into the drive. 
 
 THE SERMON ON THE HILLSIDE 
 
 Sunday morning, October the 6th, 1918, Lieuten- 
 ant Daniel iS. ;Smart of Cambridge, N. Y., our Chap- 
 lain, and I were sitting together on a bench in front 
 of an old German dugout that we had slept in the 
 previous night. There are many incidents of my 
 overseas experience that I w^ill forget, but the one that 
 I am telling about now will never pass out of my 
 memory. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 143 
 
 We were in the Argonne Forest, just a little south- 
 east of Varennes. That Sunday morning the sun 
 was shining as bright and pretty as it ever did and 
 the mild October breeze was sprinkling our little 
 hillside with brown, yellow leaves from the trees 
 around us. We expected any minute to go forward 
 into the drive. The Chaplain did not have to an- 
 nounce that he was going to preach that morning. 
 As we sat there talking, our conversation drifted to 
 the *' folks at home," and he showed me some kodak 
 pictures of his father and mother taken in a rock- 
 ing chair on their front porch. As we talked the 
 boys would pass by and ask the Chaplain what time 
 he was going to hold services. "At ten o'clock, just 
 up there on the hillside," he would say. 
 
 At ten o'clock the little hillside was covered with 
 boys. The Chaplain took from his pocket his trench 
 Bible and read the fourth ehapter of Paul's second 
 letter to Timothy, and he took for his text the sev- 
 enth verse: *'I have fought a good fight, I have fin- 
 ished my course, I have kept the faith." 
 
 Sitting there on the ground that the Germans oc- 
 cupied a few days before, I listened to Lieutenant 
 Smart make remarks as touching as any to which 1 
 have ever listened. He was preaching next to the last 
 sermon he ever preached to many boys who listened 
 to the last sermon they ever heard on this earth, for 
 
144 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 that night we marched iiito the fight and some of 
 the boys who sat there on the hillside that Sunday 
 morning died for America before the sun went down 
 the next day, and a few days afterwards our 
 Chaplain lost his life, too, while seeing about the re- 
 mains of some of his men who had fallen. 
 
 How often have I thought about that sermon on 
 the hillside in the Argonne that Sunday morning. 
 How appropriate it w^as for Lieutenant Smart to 
 have preached the sermon he did to so many who 
 were listening to their last sermon — he could not 
 have chosen a more beautiful text and his words 
 could not have been more beautifully spoken. He 
 did fight a good fight, and he kept the faith and 
 eight days after this sermon he finished his course. 
 
 How fitting Paul's letter was for the Scripture 
 reading. These are a few of the verses we heard that 
 morning just a little way back of the place where 
 so many were making the supreme sacrifice and to 
 which we were to march that night : 
 
 ''But watch thou in all things, endure afflictions, 
 do the work of an evangelist, make full proof of thy 
 ministry. 
 
 For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of 
 my departure is at hand. 
 
 I have fought a good fight, I have finished my 
 course, I hav^ kept the faith: 
 
WAR MEMORIES 145 
 
 Henceforth there is laid up for me a crowji of 
 righteousness. ' ' 
 
 ON THE ROADS 
 
 That afternoon (October 6th) we received our 
 orders to prepare to move up toward the fighting. 
 About dark, Captain Tillman, Acting Major of the 
 2nd Battalion, told me to report to the supply com- 
 pany and take charge of a supply train of amraunf- 
 tion and food and to bring my train directly behind 
 his battalion. The supply company was a few hun- 
 dred yards away. I was given a horse to ride and 
 four wagons called "British limbers," filled with 
 food and ammunition, and four men from the supply 
 company were assigned to the transport — a man for 
 each horse and wagon. 
 
 I lined my combat train behind our battalion and 
 about 10 o'clock we started our march. The night 
 was very dark and it began to rain. The road on 
 which we marched was the only one leading to the 
 front for many miles around. We seemed to make 
 good progress until we arrived at Varennes where 
 another road came into the one we had to travel and 
 the traffic there began to thicken. We met outfits 
 which had been relieved coming back from the 
 front. Messengers on motorcycles would rush by. 
 We marched a while, then stopped a while. Military 
 
146 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 Police would yell: ''Hold up there! move to right of 
 road; make room for an ambulance to pass!" Re- 
 member, there was total darkness. A match struck 
 or any light at all would have meant ruination for us. 
 If the Germans had shelled the road we were on that 
 night (they were good on hitting the middle of the 
 road) it would have taken a long time for one to have 
 counted the number of our dead and wounded. Broad- 
 way and Fifth Avenue were never more crowded. 
 The confusion, congestion, jam and push cannot be 
 fully described. The skill with which truck, motor- 
 cycle, and ambulance drivers made their way through 
 the darkness over the front line roads was remark- 
 able. Lieutenant John H. Bocock of Richmond, Va., 
 (who was cited for bravery in action) formerly of 
 Athens, Ga., gave an excellent idea of such a condi- 
 tion in the History which he wrote of his outfit (Sec- 
 tion 539, U. S. Army Ambulance Service, with the 
 French Army), when he said: "At night the dark- 
 ness was intense, and the drivers had^ literally to feel 
 iheir way.^' 
 
 When I would come to a fork in the roads I did 
 not know which way to go. Fortunately an M. P. 
 was stationed at every cross roads and they directed 
 me to the road the 328th Infantry men were taking. 
 My battalion was marching in columns of twos and 
 
WAR MEMORIES 147 
 
 they could march off the roads and around some of 
 the jam. Hence, they were a little ahead of me. 
 
 Nearer and nearer the front we slowly moved along 
 the road and just as day was breaking and the sun 
 spread it first dim rays and we could barely see the 
 country around us, 1 looked on the left side of the 
 road and there I saw for the first time in my life a 
 dead soldier on the battlefield — a German soldier 
 with his rifle lying by his side. 
 
 During my childhood days long before I learned to 
 read, I used to sit and listen to war stories and was 
 told of the battles and of men being killed, and later 
 on I studied about wars that had made history and 
 nations, but now I had lived to see for myself a dead 
 form lying on the battlefield; a soldier of the great 
 military machine of Kaiser Wilhelm, having paid his 
 all as two million of his comrades had done, for the 
 ambitious ruler, who told Ambassador James W. 
 Gerard: ''Where Alexander and Napoleon failed, I 
 have dreamed of world dominion." We moved for- 
 ward, carrying our ammunition to be used in bring- 
 ing other German soldiers just ahead of us to their 
 last. 
 
 I passed Lieutenant Sam Proctor of Macon, Ga. 
 He was also riding a horse. I immediately thought 
 of the three hundred francs I borrowed from him 
 when we were together in Paris. I had with me a lit- 
 
148 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 tie over tliis amount, so I handed him three one hun- 
 dred franc notes. But he insisted that this was no 
 time to be talking about francs. I told him I was 
 going a little further than he that morning (Sam was 
 in the artillery) and I might be killed or captured 
 and I wanted him to take the francs. Thus the money 
 I borrowed in gay Paris was paid in the Argonne 
 when we could hardly hold our horses still because 
 of the shelling nearby. 
 
 After paying the debt we moved on slowly. About 
 one hundred yards from there, at a fork in the road, 
 my horse became badly frightened at the sight of 
 dead Germans and horses killed by our artillery. The 
 horses and Germans were terribly mutilated. Every 
 time after that my horse would shy at the dead. 
 
 We moved on a little further until we came to a 
 little valley and I led the combat train off the right 
 side of the road, where we found most of our bat- 
 talion in a long gully. I can see General Lindsey 
 now, a tall figure, mingling here and there with his 
 men in the little gully. He had his headquarters in 
 a little tin covered hut which we called an elephant's 
 back. The Germans made them. I do not know what 
 they called them. They were little tin-roofed huts, 
 used by the Germans to shelter their reserve supply 
 of ammunition. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 149 
 
 IN THE LITTLE VALLEY 
 
 The first thing I noticed in the little valley after we 
 hid our combat wagons behind some bushes, was a 
 nirinber of German prisoners. There were very few 
 young faces among the prisoners ; most of them were 
 old, war- weary and war-sick. Some really seemed 
 too old to fight and I cannot understand how they 
 endured the hardships of war. Most of them were 
 smiling. I noticed particularly one old man smoking 
 a long curved pipe, looking as though he had borne 
 and suffered about all he could, yet he seemed to 
 have a contented look, probably because he now felt 
 that after four years of war which he had at last 
 withstood he Avould get back to his home some day 
 "somewhere in German J^" The prisoners were not 
 kept at brigade headquarters very long but were sent 
 on to the rear and I watched them as they marched 
 away down the road. A few shells were dropping in 
 the fields nearby and I know some of them were 
 thinking that their own artillery might kill them just 
 as they were about to escape from four long years of 
 war. In a few minutes a German plane circled over 
 us rather low and one of our men began firing on the 
 plane with a German machine gun that had been cap- 
 tured. 
 
 Captain Tillman ordered me to issue our men extra 
 
150 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ammunition. I established an ammunition pile and 
 sat on it and issued the ammunition as the men would 
 come up. Then the German shells began to burst 
 around us. TTieir artillery would mix in a German 
 77 with an Austrian 88. The Austrian 88 would not 
 whistle until it was just about to burst but the 
 whistling 77 could be heard a long time while it was 
 coming over. 
 
 I saw a shell hit in a squad of men about fifteen 
 yards from me, just across the ditch, and I heard a 
 few groans; I saw our stretcher bearers immediately 
 run and get the wounded and bring them to the first 
 aid station near me; I saw our doctors dress the 
 wounds; I saw a first aid man spread a blanket over 
 one who had gone to a better world — these things I 
 saw while I issued extra ammunition to the men while 
 the German artiller\^ was peppering the little valley 
 with shells. That isn't all I saw. I saw Lieutenant 
 Barker, our Red Cross man, giving cigarettes and 
 chocolate to the wounded as they came walking back 
 from the fighting a little way ahead of us and to those 
 that were being wounded around and near us. He 
 had a leather satchel slung over his shoulders filled 
 with cigarettes and chocolate. He was the busiest 
 man I saw. He utterly disregarded enemy fire and 
 his own safety at all times to do his duty. 
 
 When I finished issuing the ammunition it was 
 
WAR MEMORIES 151 
 
 about three o'clock in the afternoon (Monday.) I 
 had not closed my eyes in sleep since Saturday night, 
 nor had I eaten anything since supper the night be- 
 fore. I was on the roads all night the previous night, 
 as you have just read, and I had seen many horrors 
 of war. While sitting on the ammunition pile, shells 
 dropped all around me. 
 
 When I had issued ammunition to the last man I 
 started up a little path and passed Lieutenant Barker. 
 I told him I was awfully tired and terribly hungiy. 
 He said that he had frequently noticed me as I was 
 sitting on the ammunition pile while the shells were 
 bursting nearby and he had plenty of chocolate and 
 wanted me to take a piece. I did. I had not slept or 
 had anything to eat in a long time and had been 
 under a terriffic shell fire and a terrible strain, ex- 
 pecting death at any moment. How hungry, weak 
 and tired I was, and that chocolate tasted so good ! 
 But that isn 't all ; it probabl}^ saved my life. As I 
 stood there eating the chocolate and talking to Lieu- 
 tenant Barker, a shell burst squarely in the path up 
 which I had started walking. I would have been 
 just about where it hit when it burst if I had not 
 stopped and asked for the chocolate. 
 
 Then a boy came up, w^ho had been shot through 
 the wrist, and said: ''I got the man that shot me.*^ 
 Mr. Barker put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it 
 
152 W A R MEMORIES 
 
 for liim, as the drops of blood from the boy's wrist 
 stained the soil of Prance. 
 
 Then a shell hit several yards away, a piece of the 
 shell cutting a deep gash in a horse's leg. 
 
 After I got the chocolate there was more shelling 
 than ever. I ran behind a tank that had been hit and 
 was out of commission. I stayed behind this tank 
 a while, then I went into the gully w^here Acting Ma- 
 jor J. M. Tillman, Lieutenant Joe Wood, most of our 
 battalion runners, and others were. I remember there 
 were some roots near me and I pushed m.y head up 
 under them as far as I could. A shell hit just out- 
 side the gully and threw dirt in on us. The dirt 
 and grit made a tinkling noise as it fell on our steel 
 helmets. This made us cling closer to the side and 
 bottom of the gully. About that time a runner re- 
 ported to LieutenaDt Wood. We had relay runners 
 stationed up the road so as to send messages back and 
 forth. Two of our runners were stationed together 
 on the roadside. 
 
 ''Did you deliver the message?" asked Lieutenant 
 Wood. 
 
 ''No, sir," answered the runner. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 The runner swallowed a big lump in his throat and 
 said, "A shell hit where they were and both were 
 dead when I got to them." 
 
WAR MEMORIES 153 
 
 There were many songs written and manj^ speeches 
 made about the boys rushing into the fight smiling, 
 joking and laughing, and sometimes this was true, 
 but when the shells were bursting around us as we 
 hugged the bottom of that little gully, I looked around 
 and there were stern and serious looks on the faces 
 I saw. 
 
 After the shelling 1 Avent over to one of the elephant 
 backs which was being used for a first aid station, 
 and there I heard a familiar voice of one who seemed 
 to be suffering. It was Lieutenant Walter A. Little 
 of Forsyth, Ga. I asked him if he was hurt much. 
 He raised his head and looked at me to see who I was 
 and said, ''Hello, Holden. Well, they got me.'' You 
 can better imagine than I can describe the feeling I 
 had and choked back as I looked at him for the last 
 time and when he said, ''Well, they got me." He 
 said something else, but I have forgotten the exact 
 words he used. A piece of shrapnel had buried itself 
 in his back. He, Lieutenant Samuel Jamerson and 
 Lieutenant Wm. K. Merritt were wounded while 
 bringing some prisoners down the nearby ro?)d. Lieu- 
 tenant Jamerson told me later that he could see the 
 German artillery and machine gunners shooting point 
 blank at them from a nearby hill. He said when he 
 was hit he fell in a ditch and that a number of the 
 prisoners were killed and wounded and that one pris- 
 
154 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 oner was cut in two. The wounded prisoners, he said, 
 came over in the ditch with him. 
 
 Lieutenant Little died a few days later in Base 
 Hospital No. 49 at Beauns, France, just two bods 
 from where Lieutenant Ernest HoUingsworth, a 
 friend and fellow townsman oP mine, was recovering 
 from a machine gun wound he received while serving 
 with the 38th Infantry, the outfit that helped cheek 
 the last drive the Germans attempted on Paris. 
 
 When T returned home Earnest told me what a 
 brave fight for life Lieutenant Little made. It was in 
 this haspital and about the same time Little died that 
 Lieutenant Frank Carter, of Atlanta, Ga., after spill- 
 ing his blood for his country in the Argonne For- 
 est, gave up more blood for a wounded soldier, which 
 proved to be a greater danger to Carter's life than 
 the German bullet that went through his right 
 shoulder. 
 
 I went back to the little gully. It was about dark 
 then. Captain Tillman had just received orders to 
 move his battalion further up. He started out with 
 his men and said to me: "Go back, Holden, and 
 bring us some ammunition and food." 
 
 Just before I left, Lieutenant Lyons Joel asked me 
 to keep his trench coat. From the way he told me 
 good-bye, he seemed to think he would never get 
 home. I remember how lonesome I felt when I was 
 
WAR MEMORIES 155 
 
 transferred to tlie 2nd Battalion, 328th Infantry. 
 They had trained together many months ; they seemed 
 like one big family ; and at first I felt like a stranger 
 among them. But I didn't feel that way long, be- 
 cause in my company was Lieutenant Lj'oils Joel 
 of Atlanta, Ga. We were in college together. It 
 Wcis not long before, by his courteous treatment, I 
 felt a part of the 2nd Battalion. Lieutenant Joel and 
 I were together so often while in France. His men 
 fairly worshipped him. He never lost an oppor- 
 tunity to serve his platoon and when arriving at a 
 new area, he never thought of a place to sleep for him- 
 self until his platoon had been provided for. No 
 one talked more about the home folks than he did. 
 Volunteering when he was below the draft age, he 
 answered his country's call — brave, loyal and faith- 
 ful, he died like a hero. A few days after he threw 
 his coat to me to hold on October 14th, he received a 
 wound that proved fatal. You may remember now in 
 the first of the book I told of Joel's mother and 
 father following him to Camp Upton to say a last 
 good-bye to their only son. I am so glad now that they 
 did. If he had lingered a little longer in the hospital 
 in France after he was wounded he would have vseen 
 his father and mother once more, because they had 
 secured passports to go over before they heard the 
 news of his death. 
 
156 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 Joel was one of those whose people, as a race, have 
 no home country; but Jews fought with every coun- 
 try in the World War. Over 600 American Jews 
 were cited for braverjr in action and it is thrilling to 
 read the citations of 'Sergeant Sidney G. Gumpertz; 
 Sergeant Benjamin Kaufman and William Sawelson 
 who were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. 
 
 ON THE ROADS AGAIN 
 
 About dark I got my men together and started 
 back with our wagons to get more ammunition and 
 food. The road was not so crowded and jammed as 
 it was the night before. Shelling slowed our pro- 
 gress for the first mile. 
 
 We arrived at the supply company after midnight, 
 cold, tired and liungry. We unhitched our horses, 
 fed them, and got a cup of coffee and something to 
 eat. Then I went to the supply company's tent and 
 slept for a few hours on Lieutenant Little's cot. As 
 tired as I was it was some time before I could go to 
 sleep. In my thoughts, I had before me a picture of 
 Little as ho lay fatally wounded in the dressing sta- 
 tion that afternoon. 
 
 Early the next morning we filled our wagons with 
 ammunition and hard bread, corned beef and jam, 
 and started back to the front. Our front lines had ad- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 157 
 
 vanced far enough for us to make most of the way up 
 ill day time. After we passed Varennes we began 
 to hear the whistling of the shells again. We were on 
 a road that followed up the valley, twisting and turn- 
 ing alongside the Aire river. A few miles north of 
 \'arennes was another road which ran into ours and 
 on the hillside to our right we could see quite a bit 
 of it. A column of infantry soldiers were marching 
 on this road and all at once the shells came whistling 
 overhead and dropping on and near it. The infantry 
 column scattered to the fields on both sides of the 
 road. Then I saw an ambulance making its way back 
 from the front. It was running fast. Shells were 
 bursting in front of and behind the car. Then I saw- 
 an awful sight — a shell made a direct hit on the am- 
 bulance. 
 
 In a few minutes the shelling shifted to our road 
 and the shells began to fall around us. One shell 
 burst by one of my combat wagons and I went to see 
 what damage it had done. Several pieces of shrap- 
 nel hit the wagon. The driver, Bloomer, was a 
 complete wreck. He was not touched by the shell, 
 but had lost his mind entirely. He did not even 
 remember his name. The bursting of the shell had 
 made him a shell-shocked patient. I sent him back 
 to the hospital and the rest of us went to nearby dug- 
 outs. Claude L. Sheats of Kansas City was standing 
 
158 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 near Bloomer when the shell exploded, but he was not 
 harmed. 
 
 After the shelling ceased near us we went on fur- 
 ther until we came to cross roads. A military police- 
 man threw up his right hand and stopped us. He 
 would not let us go further as the road just ahead 
 of us was being heavily shelled. I led the transport 
 back a few hundred yards and then off of the road 
 behind some camouflage and there we watched the 
 shelling. 
 
 Just ahead of us and to the right w^as a little valley 
 where an outfit of artilleiy was stationed. I saw four 
 or five German planes circle over this valley, then 
 they flew back over their lines and I suppose signaled 
 their artillery to shell the valley, as they stopped 
 shelling the roads and began to shell this valley. In 
 about twenty minutes the shelling ceased and the 
 ambulances began bringing out the w^ounded. 
 
 I have oftentimes seen thousands of madly cheer- 
 ing football fans suddenly quieted. The game stops, 
 ''time out" is called. A player is hurt. The referee 
 signals for the doctor. He rushes over the field with 
 his medicine case. Thousands are w^atching the 
 wounded player as he lies on the gridiron. Every- 
 thing is dead still. Substitutes dart out from the side- 
 lines and carry the player off the field. As they pass 
 
WAR MEMORIES 159 
 
 the bleachers and grandstands the stillness is broken 
 by handclaps of vSympathy — and the game goes on. 
 
 I watched the wounded boys as they passed me that 
 afternoon, some limping, some holding a torn or 
 broken arm and others whose uniform was being 
 stained in many places by their fresh wann blood, but 
 there was no one to give them a cheer, nor did the 
 game stop for ''time out." It could not be other- 
 wise, for the game being played was WAR — differ- 
 ent from all other contests — the game of war must 
 go on. 
 
 We started out on the road again and passed the 
 little valley that we had just seen shelled. I saw^ 
 many of our fine artillery horses lying dead on the 
 ground. 
 
 We soon reached the place where Captain Tillman 
 had ordered us back for food. General Lindsey was 
 out in the middle of the road and as I rode by him 
 he stopped me and asked where I was going. I 
 told him I had ammunition and food for my battalion. 
 Then he said, ''They are shelling the road just 
 ahead. Pull your wagons in to the right and wait 
 until dark. You are under enemy observation on the 
 road. They are shelling just ahead." I turned in to 
 the right and waited until dark and then started out 
 again. 
 
 I led my wagons on. Looking down just ahead of 
 
160 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 my slow- walking horse, I saw a kliaki clad form lying 
 in the middle of the road. I stopped and directed 
 the transport to go on the side of the road so as not 
 to run over the body. As the wagons drove by, and 
 as I sat there on my horse looking for the first time 
 at a dead soldier boy of my country my thoughts trav- 
 eled many miles back across the seas to a home. My 
 thoughts were that someone was probably writing 
 to him, maybe knitting something to keep him warm, 
 or perhaps just sitting by the fireside thinking of 
 the brave boy and his return. I shall never forget 
 that moment. I kept looking at him ; with his face 
 to the ground, his helmet still on his head, he ap- 
 peared as though he had just stumbled and fallen. 
 There he lay — an American soldier, representing the 
 Stars and Stripes, whose followers love peace but can 
 fight when it's time to fight with a courage that fears 
 no danger. 
 
 Wars seem to stand out in the pages of history as 
 milestones in the paths of the lives of nations. Names 
 of a few Generals, with important dates and bat- 
 tles, are recorded and ever remembered, but the long 
 roll of others who shed their blood and gave all are 
 only thought of in the course of time, as a part of 
 one big array. But I wish to say to the mother and 
 father whose boy fell in battle on the soil of north- 
 ern France or otherwise died in the service that I 
 
WAR MEMORIES 161 
 
 know you have watched him year after year and 
 planned and dreamed of his future and that you 
 miss him; but remember that the Great Architect of 
 the Universe has plans that we sometimes cannot 
 understand. From their deeds future generations 
 will reap the benefits. If all could accomplish in 
 our short span of life what the American boys ac- 
 complished, some of whom gave their all in the 
 World War, then surely this old world would soon 
 be a better place in which to live and die. But I 
 must go on with my story. 
 
 We moved on and I saw more Americans along the 
 roadside whose tasks had been finished, mostly boys 
 from my battalion and brigade headquarters' run- 
 ners. Finally w^e arrived at a place where the wagons 
 could go no further. The bridge across the Aire at 
 La Forge had been shelled away. I called one of the 
 boys who was with me and he and I crossed the river 
 on the fallen pieces of the bridge and at times had to 
 make some big jumps to make connection on the frag- 
 ments and rubbish in the river. We w^alked on a few 
 hundred yards and came to the town of Chatel Che- 
 hery. 
 
 It was very dark then, about eleven o'clock. Not 
 a sound did we hear nor a soul did we see as we walk- 
 ed up a side street into the main part of the village. 
 Finally we heard someone walking. He was about 
 
162 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 fifty yards in front of us. I decided to follow him. 
 We followed him a little way, then watched him go 
 hiio a house. We came to the house and everything was 
 dark, but we could hear voices. There was a blanket 
 hanging in the hallway. We passed this blanket and 
 then saw a faint light down some steep steps. We 
 went down these steps and then turned to the left 
 and \vent down another flight of steps i^ml walked 
 inside a large cellar. The cellar was full of our 
 wounded boys. It was our regimental dressing sta- 
 tion. Lieutenant Emerson grabbed my hand as if he 
 was mighty glad to see nie. He said he had been 
 thinking about me that night, and wondered if I 
 was still living. He was our battalion dentist, but 
 was helping Captain Davis Goldstein and our other 
 doctors in their first aid work. Over in the corner 
 was Lieutenant Albert G. Teague from Birmingham, 
 Ala. He had been badly gassed — he looked ''all in.'' 
 Lying on the floor was a wounded German asleep ; his 
 wounds had just been dressed. Our doctors were 
 husy dressing the wounds of many others. 
 
 I told them I had food and ammunition that I was 
 carrjang to our front lines and a,sked them how far 
 they had advanced. They told me that regimental 
 headquarters was in the northern edge of the village 
 and that I could get the information there. We left 
 the infirmary and started our search for regimental 
 
WAR MEMORIES 163 
 
 headquarters. While walking through the village we 
 met several boys coming toward us. I asked them 
 where the headquarters was located. They told us 
 to go up past the village church, turn to the left and 
 we would find it in the last house on the left hand 
 side of the street. 
 
 When we arrived at headc^uarters, I met Lieuten- 
 ant William T. Swanson of Savannah, Ga., also going 
 in to see Colonel Wether ill. He said he had just left 
 hi.s platoon out on the hill and that many were shot to 
 pieces and were calling him by name and asking him 
 to do something for them. 
 
 I went inside. Captain Tomasello of Bagdad, Fla., 
 Regimental Operations Officer, was busy talking over 
 a phone that the Signal Corps men had installed. 
 Colonel AVetherill was sitting in a corner bent over 
 a table, studying his map by the dim light of a flick- 
 ering candle. I told Colonel Wetherill that my trans- 
 port w'as at La Forge but the bridge was down and 
 that we could not cross. He said I could not get fur- 
 ther than Chatel Chehery anyway, as daylight would 
 catch my wagons on the road under enemy observa- 
 tion. He looked down at his map and looked up and 
 said I could go back to Apremont and cross the river 
 and come into Chatel Chehery on the left side of the 
 river. 
 
 ''All right, sir," I said, and we started back to 
 
164 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 La Forge. Going back to the wagons, I detected that 
 the little river bottom was filled with gas. In crossing 
 it I got some gas. We put on our gas masks but at 
 times the way was so rough and the night so dark that 
 we had to take oft' our masks occasionally ; especially 
 when we crossed the river on the fallen rocks. 
 
 When I got back to my transport, I told my men 
 the route we had to take to get into Chatel Chehery 
 and about that time Captain Cathings Therrel of 
 Atlanta, Oa., from division headquarters, interrupted 
 me and said that he was establishing a divisional am- 
 munition and food dump there at La Forge, I told 
 him Colonel Wetherill had just mapped out a way 
 for me to get the food and ammunition into Chatel 
 Chehery. Captain Therrel said that his orders were 
 from divisional headquarters, and that he would take 
 charge and establish the divisional dump. He told 
 me to carry my men and horses back to the supply 
 company. 
 
 Captain Therrel had charge of our supply com- 
 pany when we first went into the Toul sector and 
 his efficient management was a source of much pride 
 and admiration to General Lindsey. 
 
 THE ROADS ONCE MORE 
 
 Again we hit the trail of the shelled roads. It was 
 about 2 :00 A. M. when we started back. It was cold. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 165 
 
 raining, and very dark. When we came to the cross 
 roads, I decided to take a nearer road to the supply 
 company and as it happened was very unlucky in 
 doing so because about three miles from there we met 
 a French outfit going toward the front. Here we got 
 into an awful jam again. I was so tired that I almost 
 fell asleep on ray horse at times when we had to stop 
 awhile because of the roads being blocked. Only 
 once or twdce did I hear the French soldiers say any- 
 thing as the rain-soaked blue columns tramped by. 
 The newness of war with them had worn into a se- 
 rious affair during the four years past. 
 
 When we arrived at the supply company we un- 
 hitched our horses and I Avent to the supply company 
 tent. I found it filled with replacement officers who 
 had just come up to fill the vacant files. I managed 
 to squeeze in on the cold ground and slept for a few^ 
 hours. 
 
 About daybreak everyone left the tent but me. I 
 tried to get up but could not. I had such a pain in 
 my head and chest and was suffering so that I was 
 unable to get up with the others. My chest felt as 
 though needles were sticking in it when I tried to 
 cough. After breakfast several came in and felt 
 my head and said I had a high fever. Among them 
 was Lieutenant Mack Hirshburg of Atlanta, Ga., who 
 came into the tent just before he left again for the 
 
166 W A R MEMORIES 
 
 front with his wagons. He was in charge of ammu- 
 nition and food, wagons for his battalion as I was 
 in charge of the one for our battalion. I told one of 
 my drivers to take charge of our wagons. 
 
 About 5:00 o'clock that afternoon Charles Good- 
 reau, from Falls River, Mass., helped me over to a 
 nearby tent hospital. 
 
 T had to stop several times and rest before we 
 reached the hospital. On our last stop I remember 
 seeing a sight that I have seen many, many times 
 since when I recall the war pictures that are stored 
 away in memory's keeping. Just as I sat down by the 
 roadside to rest I looked up and saw a German plane 
 dive out of a clear sky towards one of our large 
 observation balloons, and puncture it wdth bullets. 
 The walls of the balloon closed in and a great cloud 
 of black smoke gushed upward. Out from the little 
 basket underneath jumped a small figure, the para- 
 chute opened up and the observer floated safely down 
 from his destroyed post. The German airman, ac- 
 complishing his mission, ascended towards the left in 
 a large semi-circle and headed back towards the Ger- 
 man lines with the swiftness of an eagle. 
 
 The tent hospital to which I went was located on 
 the edge of where the town of Varennes used to be. 
 Here a doctor examined me, took my temperature 
 which registered 1031/^ and tagged me acute bron- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 167 
 
 chitis. I begged him not to send me back to the rear 
 but my pleadings did no good. Then I insisted that 
 I would not take a wounded man's place in the am- 
 bulance. 
 
 I lay down inside the tent. Ambulances and trucks 
 would come up to get the w^ounded and sick but I 
 waited for about an hour and a half before I would 
 let them put me in a truck. Yet I wished I had been 
 wounded because most of them were only slightly 
 wounded and were not suffering much; they were 
 laughing and joking. 
 
 Goodreau was the orderly for Lieutenant iSmart 
 (our Chaplain) and myself, but I had been using 
 him as a driver on the wagon of the boy, (Bloomer), 
 I lost by shell shock. I told Goodreau that he had 
 done all he could for me and to go back to the 
 Chaplain and help him bury the dead as he probably 
 needed him now. His eyes filled with tears as he 
 told me good-bye. 
 
 After he left I seemed to have gotten worse. A 
 few shells dropped near the tent and I thought we 
 were in for a shelling but only a few hit near us. 
 
 Just outside the tent a man began vsinging ''Mother 
 MdCrea. ' ' I was already thinking of my mother be- 
 fore he began singing because I thought I was dying, 
 and you know whom we want by our side when we 
 feel that we are about to leave this world. And she 
 
168 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 no doubt was thinking and praying for me, because 
 as Frank L. Stanton wrote : 
 
 *^ There's a woman a-dreaming when shadows fall 
 
 drear — 
 Dreams of a toy Over There; 
 A7id there's light in the dream, and that Light is 
 
 a prayer 
 Of Love for a hoy Over There. 
 And the dream and the prayer find their way o'er 
 
 the foam." 
 
 Very few ever have the experience of feeling that 
 they are dying and live to tell it. Many are cut off 
 from this world in a second's time and are never 
 conscious of the fact that they are leaving. 
 
 I know now how the boys felt so far away from 
 home who were conscious before they died and felt 
 that they were dying. 
 
 About 8 :00 o'clock that night I was put in a truck 
 and carried to a field hospital further back of the 
 lines. Here I took off my clothes and shoes which 
 were still wet from the rains of the night before and 
 I slept till morning on a cot near the stove. 
 
 The next morning after taking a lot of medicine, 
 I was taken out with a truck load of wounded and 
 sick to a station where a French hospital train was 
 waiting to take us to Langres. I was put in a lower 
 bed on this train. The boy above me had to lie 
 
W A R M EMORIES 
 
 on his face as he had a bad wound in his back. We 
 rode all night. The next morning when we arrived 
 ambulances were waiting for us at the station and 
 about 10:00 o'clock I was lying between white sheets 
 in a ward in Base Hospital 53. 
 
 THE LAST SHOTS 
 
 I wanted to go back to the front and everj'^ day I 
 would ask the nurse and doctors to let me go back to 
 my division but they refused, because the thermom- 
 eter showed I had fever. In about a week the fever 
 lei't me and on October 22]k], I left the liospital wdth 
 orders to report to Is-sur-Tille Avhere I Avould get my 
 traveling orders. Here I spent the night in a Red 
 Cross Hotel. It was a cold, windy night. After sup- 
 per I went into the parlor and sat in a big soft rock- 
 ing chair in front of a glowing fire. An American 
 girl was playing the piano and two were standing 
 by her, singing. After a bit they sang my favorite 
 song, ''The Sunshine of Your Smile." We all had 
 some one dear to us back in the States that we often 
 thought about. I saw a pen and ink on the table and 
 in one of my sentimental moods I wrote her a long 
 letter. But I am dreaming now, so will pinch my- 
 self and go on with my story. 
 
 I was ordered to the First Army Replacement De- 
 pot which was stationed south of Nancy. Wlien I re- 
 
170 W A R M E iM OKIES 
 
 ported the Depot was moving into the southern edge 
 of the Argonne Forest, and I moved up with them. 
 Captain I. Kimball of Auburn, Alabama, was in 
 charge of the Medical Department of the Depot. He 
 sa"w that I had gotten out of the hospital too soon 
 and w^as still very weak. I could not walk a hun- 
 dred yards without having to stop and rest, so Cap- 
 tain Kimball had me assigned to the Replacement 
 Depot until I could get stronger. The Depot was 
 attached to the 40th Division. After we entered the 
 Argonne, I tried to get transferred back to the 82nd 
 Division but was told that it would take a G. H. Q. 
 order to transfer me from one division to another. 
 I did get back as far as the southern part of the 
 Argonne. My division had been relieved then and 
 was stationed nearby. Many of the boys of my old 
 battalion told me how^ thin, w^eak and bad I looked. 
 
 "While here in the edge of the Argonne Forest, I 
 heard the last great artillery barrage on the morning 
 of November 11th, that ended the World War. 
 Promptly at 11:00 o'clock that morning the war 
 noise of four years was hushed into sweet silence of 
 peace. Tt was so hard for us to realize the end had 
 come. It all seemed like a dream. 
 
 Hot guns began to cool. The last bullet had 
 pierced its object ; the last shell had wrought its 
 havoc; the last bombing plane had haunted its prey. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 171 
 
 Thus the curtain fell, bringing to a close the greatest 
 catastrophe of all time. 
 
 That last morning of the fight many of our boys 
 were killed during the fierce exchange of artillery fire 
 and that calm afternoon buried by chaplains and 
 comrades undisturbed by the noises of war. 
 
 I wonder if humanity will ever have to bear again 
 the sorrows of another big war. The loss of life in 
 the World War was appalling; the number of killed 
 and wounded ran into the millions; and the number 
 of heart-aches into billions. The permanent waste 
 of property is too enormous to calculate and the 
 debts piled upon nations make figures that are stag- 
 gering. The terrible after effects are not only still 
 seen but will be seen for many, many years. What 
 would be the grand totals that would flow from 
 another big war fought from under the waves and 
 above the earth? 
 
 Look at your innocent baby. Some day his soft 
 and tender flesh may be ripped by an ugly piece of 
 shrapnel shell; his little sparkling eyes may be 
 blinded by some poisonous gas ; or his nerves may be 
 shattered and torn by horrors of war that we are yet 
 to hear about. But you say there will never be 
 another war. Probably that is what mothers and 
 fathers thought twenty and thirty years ago when 
 60 liuiiiy of our war- crippled and blind were babes. 
 
172 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 Let US do what we can to prevent wars. Let's 
 liave some kind of world court, call it what you will. 
 It will lessen if not prevent future wars. As it would 
 be an experiment and its operations would be so 
 varied and of such magnitude its powers should be 
 limited at first, and enlarged as might be justified 
 by experience. 
 
 Something must be done with the nations that are 
 teeming over with millions. They must expand. 
 Where is this overliow^ going'!' However mueii they 
 wish to inhabit American soil we do not want indis- 
 criminate immigration. Let the court select a coun- 
 try for the overflow, a country that will best satisfy 
 all concerned. This will help to remove one cause 
 of vv^ar. This court could also in some systematic 
 way relieve famine, a great rival of war in producing 
 suffering and taking life. 
 
 What I have written may be trite and common- 
 place and indeed out of place and serve no purpose 
 except to make me feel better for having said some- 
 thin o; about prevention or lessening of war, the hor- 
 rible and horrifying effects of which I have seen and 
 felt. 
 
 From the organization of soldiers of the World 
 War in this and other countries may come a good sub- 
 stitute for a world court. Out of the war was born 
 the American Legion, destined to be one of the great- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 173 
 
 est non-political organizations in the United States. 
 The soldiers of the World AVar in this country have 
 associated themselves together for ''God and Coun- 
 try" and I feel sure that we will have done more 
 good than the World War did harm after we have 
 worked for half a century and when we are gone our 
 children will take up and carry on the good work for 
 America. 
 
 During the State Convention of the American 
 Legion held at Columbus, Georgia, July 4th, 5th 
 and 6th, 1921, one of the prominent speakers said to 
 us in a speech before the convention : 
 
 "As a military man I abhor war and I believe I 
 state only what is absolute truth when I say that no 
 class of men realize the horrors of armed conflict 
 more vividly than the so-called 'professional sol- 
 diers. ' 
 
 We have not only suffered the hardships and ex- 
 perienced the dangers of battle but many of us have 
 had our homes forever darkened through the loss of 
 our sons during the war. The only son of the late 
 Chief of Staff, General March, went down in an air- 
 ship ; the only son of General Cameron, at one time 
 in command of Camp Gordon, was killed in France; 
 and the only son of Colonel Symmonds, now Chief 
 of Staff of the Fourth Corps area, in Atlanta, died 
 of wounds received in action. My own son fell while 
 personally operating a German machine gun which 
 he, with a small detachment in advance of the re- 
 mainder of his company, had just captured from the 
 
174 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 enemy. We are, gentlemen, but human being.s. Is 
 it probable that after such experiences we could ad- 
 vocate war? On the contrary, we are advocating 
 measures which history has shown will prevent war. ' ' 
 This speaker was General P. C. Harris, at that time 
 Adjutant General of our anny. 
 
 ANXIOUS HEARTS 
 
 The day after the Armistice was signed I read in 
 the European edition of the New York Herald these 
 glowing headlines, ''THE WAR IS WON." Then 
 I read how whistles blew and bells pealed forth vic- 
 tory throughout the world to millions of anxious 
 hearts making them thankful and jubilant. I read 
 how Paris celebrated as never before. But in the 
 same edition that carried these good tidings was a 
 column headed, "LATEST AMERICAN CASUAL- 
 TIES." Two hundred and thirty-six names of offi- 
 cers and men who were killed in action or who died of 
 disease were listed with home addresses in every 
 state in the Union. 
 
 All the world was happy that peace had come, but 
 w^ith it there were aching hearts. Man}^ had already 
 learned that they would never again have their boys 
 around the family fireside. Then, too, how many 
 others were in doubt as to whether their boys sur- 
 vived the last days of fighting? My parents were 
 amons: those last mentioned. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 175 
 
 My mother paraded and waved a flag in the happy 
 throng that marched in Athens, Georgia, when the 
 wires iBiashed ''Peace on Earth," and my father 
 gazed on the parade from his office window with 
 heart throbs of joy, but that night, what? Before 
 they closed their eyes in sleep they wondered many 
 times if I came through. 
 
 The next day they looked for a cable from me, 
 but not a word. The next surely a cable would come, 
 they thought, but not a w^ord from me that day, nor 
 the next, and not until seventeen days after Novem- 
 ber 11th did they know that I was living. 
 
 Soon afterw^ards my father received a letter from 
 the United States Treasury Department notifying 
 him that I died on November the 1st and requested 
 him to fill out an enclosed form and make a certain 
 affidavit to obtain settlement of my insurance policy. 
 My father answered that there must be some mistake 
 as he had received a cable from me the day before 
 and I had put date of message in body of cable. In 
 answer to this letter the Bureau of War Risk Insur- 
 ance Office wrote : 
 
 ''You are advised that upon the receipt of your 
 letter an investigation was made w^hich developed the 
 fact that Frank B. Holden, 2nd Lieutenant of In- 
 fantry, United 'States Army, who died on November 
 1st or 2nd, was the son of Mr. H. Holden, Oakland, 
 Maine. On account of the similarity of names the 
 
176 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 form was sent to you in error, and it is hoped that it 
 caused you no unnecessary anxiety. The prompt at- 
 tention given to the matter by you and the informa- 
 tion given this Bureau are very much appreciated. 
 Yours truly, 
 (Signed) H. C. HOULIHAN, 
 Deputy Commissioner Compensation/' 
 
 'Two years later my father received the following: 
 '^H. M, Holden, 
 Athens, Ga. 
 My dear sir : 
 
 How little I know that these lines will ever reach 
 you. The enclosed were among the effects of my boy 
 sent to us from Souilly hospital where he died No- 
 vember 1st, 1918. My son's name was Lt. Frank 
 B. Holden, thus the mistake. If the enclosed reaches 
 you, I would be very glad to hear from you. 
 Very sincerely, 
 (Signed) MRS. J. H. HOLDEN." 
 
 The ''enclosed" referred to in above letter was a 
 cable sent to me from my father. It said, "All 
 Well," and signed "H. M. Holden." I hope the 
 other Frank Holden thought the initial "M" was a 
 typographical error and that he died feeling all at 
 home were well as I would have wanted to have felt 
 if I had died over there. 
 
 I had no idea there was another boy in the army 
 who had the same name, rank and branch of service 
 that I had. One of the initials "H' in the name of 
 
WAR MEMORIES 177 
 
 his father was one of the initials in the name of my 
 father. And getting our names confused indicates 
 there must have been many errors, for the Bureau 
 of War Risk Insurance say they have in their files 
 53,200 members of the Johnston family (Johnston, 
 Johnston 'h, Jonson, etc.) They have records of 
 2,138 John Johnstons and 2,032 who answer to the 
 name of William Johnston. Of course you know the 
 names that come next : 51,900 Smiths, 48,000 Browns 
 and 47,000 Williams. The Jones, Andersons and 
 Walkers are next in line. So mistakes were inevi- 
 table; but I never thought that I would ever read 
 of my death. 
 
 AFTER THE STORM 
 
 Like rivers that swell after the storm, the stream 
 of war casualties swell long after the flashing can- 
 nons have thundered forth their last rain of deadly 
 shells. More than three years have passed since the 
 World War closed and there are today over thirty 
 thousand American ex-service men in hospitals, 
 which is more than at any other time since the 
 Armistice was signed. 
 
 Captain Henry Brown, a college mate of mine, 
 died from the effects of war after he returned from 
 France, and now sleeps in peace in the cemetery of 
 his boyhood home, Athens, Georgia, where the 
 
178 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 smoothl}^ flowing Oconee winds through the calm 
 city of the dead and where the birds sing in the 
 water oaks above the marble slabs. Such a contrast 
 from the horrors of war that took Henry's life, and 
 to this quiet resting place his father and mother can 
 go and retrospect and find sw^eet consolation. 
 
 There is Lieutenant Robert R. Forrester of Atlanta, 
 Ga. He and I for three years drilled together while 
 attending the Georgia Military Academy at College 
 Park, Georgia. Robert, while serving with the 327th 
 Infantry, volunteered on a daylight raiding party 
 against the enemy on September the 13th, 1918, and 
 was severely wounded. He lived many months after 
 returning and underwent untold suffering before he 
 died. 
 
 You know full well the story of Lieutenant Col- 
 onel Charles W. Whittlesey of Pittsfield, Mas.s. On 
 his chest was pinned the Congres-sional Medal of 
 Honor, the highest military tribute this country can 
 pay a soldier for bravery. But as the outside world 
 read of this hero and of the medals awarded him, 
 they knew not the heart that beat beneath these med- 
 als; they knew not the shattered nerves that lay be- 
 neath a flesh surface that shoAved no visible scars of 
 battle; they knew^ not that the strain of war left a 
 mental and mortal wound. No ! they knew^ not these 
 things until Colonel Whittlesey's tragic death which 
 
WAR MEMORIES 179 
 
 came three years after the Germans asked him while 
 Commander of the ''Lost Battalion" in the Argonne 
 to surrender, which he refused to do. We all know 
 of this tragedy, because of the prominence of the 
 hero, but there are many similar cases that go un- 
 noticed. 
 
 There are many others I could name. Every com- 
 munity knows of them. They died for our country 
 as did the thousands who were killed in action. And 
 there are many others who will never get over the 
 effects of the war. 
 
 I ask your indulgence to mention another war 
 casualty. He never wore a soldier's uniform, but 
 when Congress declared war he was "the 'Commander- 
 in-Chief of the anny and navy of the United States. 
 During the days of readjustment and reconstruction 
 our country is deprived of the services of our war 
 time President, Woodrow Wilson. And during these 
 trying days not only the States need Wilson, but 
 the world needs his great heart and brain. Time 
 proves all things and in the distant years I can see 
 the long row of American school children memoriz- 
 ing important dates and names of prominent figures 
 and battles of the World War, and standing out 
 above and beyond all others will be, in dates, ''No- 
 vember 11th, 1918;" in names of battles, "Argonne;" 
 and in the names of persons, "Woodrow Wilson." 
 
180 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 As the years go by our people will read and study 
 this man more and monuments to his memoiy will 
 tower here and there throughout this land of ours. 
 Not listed a casualty on the records of the War De- 
 partment (though by special Act of Congress he 
 should be), yet in the hearts of his fellow country- 
 men his name is written alongside the names of other 
 American soldiers wounded ''in action." 
 
 A TRIP BACK 
 
 A few days after the Armistice, I secured a mo- 
 torcycle side car and rode in peace over the roads 
 that I had traveled over in the dark without any 
 lights. I saw many places where w^e were shelled 
 and the little valley where at one time I thought 
 "the next shell will get me." But the places had 
 already changed. The shell holes had begun level- 
 ing out. 
 
 I rode into Chatel Chehery and went back of the 
 church into the village church yard. Here I saw the 
 graves of some of my dearest friends and saw where 
 iive officers from my Regiment (328th) had been 
 buried in a row. I stood before the grave of my old 
 college pal, Lieutenant Carl Goldsmith of Atlanta, Ga. 
 I know he must have died smiling. I never saw him 
 when his bright face did not inspire all those around 
 him. Major Buxton said when he saw Carl Gold- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 181 
 
 smith's body on the morning of October 11th on a lit- 
 tle slope beside the first houses in the town of Cor- 
 nay that Carl lay full length on his stomach, but the 
 left side of his face was resting on his left arm, his 
 pistol gripped in his right hand thrust forward, and 
 just back of him lay three or four of his men. Major 
 Buxton said that Carl had the happiest and most 
 peaceful expression he ever saw^ on a dead soldier. 
 I went back through the valley that I walked 
 through when I went into Chatel Chehery the night 
 the bridge was down. In this little valley were many 
 rows of crosses marking the graves of our men. How 
 awfully sad and depressing was the sight of these 
 crosses and graves of my comrades. The afternoon 
 was cold and rainy and it was a long, lonesome ride 
 for me back to my outfit. 
 
 DAD'iS XMAS LETTER 
 
 The follow^ing headlines appeared in the issue of 
 ''Stars and Stripes" the last of November, 1918: 
 
 ''LID OFF CENSORSHIP FOR FATHER'S 
 
 LETTER 
 
 "NEW RULING ANNOUNCED JUST IN TIME 
 
 TO ALLOW FAMILY TO KNOW WHOLE 
 
 STORY OF YOUR LIFE IN FRANCE" 
 
 A part of my letter is as follow 
 
 s: 
 
182 WAR 31 EMORIES 
 
 '' France, November 24, 1918. 
 Dear Papa: 
 
 This is your Christmas letter. 
 
 It is impossible for me to sit down and write you 
 of the many times I have thought of you and of how^ 
 I have missed you since I have been in France; so 
 I am not going* to try to do the impossible but in- 
 stead I am going to tell you many things that here- 
 tofore the censor would not allow. I believe that 
 a father's love and feeling for his son is just as 
 deep as that of a mother's and I know of nothing 
 that wil'l interest you more than for you to stop fig- 
 uring and guessing where I am and where I have 
 been and now hear the real facts." 
 
 The above is the first paragraph of the long 
 *' Father's Xraas Letter" that I wrote on a chilly 
 November night thirteen days after the Armistice 
 was signed. The rest of the letter tells in detail 
 every little French village in which we w^ere billeted, 
 where we first went into the trenches, and of the 
 drivas we made. On my return home I learned that 
 my mother, father, brother and sisters had worn out 
 a map and spent many hours trjdng to figure out 
 what part oi France I was in, especially during the 
 drives. 
 
 What a grand success ''Dad's Xmas Letter" 
 proved to be! The Stars and Stripes said in its 
 issue of December 6, 1918, that the homebound mail 
 for the week prior to the one in which Father's Let- 
 
WAR MEMORIES 183 
 
 ters were dispatched comprised 6,381,540 pieces and 
 the homebound mail for the week in which these let- 
 ters were sent Statesward numbered 8.632,000 pieces, 
 an increase of 2,250,460 pieces. The postal authori- 
 ties state that they were sure that at least 2,000,000 
 Fathers' Letters left France, wliieli means that 
 nearly every one in the A. E. F. vrjio could write or 
 dictate a letter did so. 
 
 But with the sunshine we always have the rain. 
 In the above mentioned issue of the Stars and Stripes 
 of December 6th, the following appeared: 
 
 **But the prize letter of the day, the best of all 
 in our opinion, and we have seen and heard of many, 
 was written down at Saizeraise, France, by a man 
 whose name we will naturally omit. This is the 
 way his father's Christmas Victory Letter read: 
 
 "My Father: Today throughout the Army sol- 
 diers are writing to their fathers, so I am sending a 
 word of devotion to mine. 
 
 ''I want fii-st to tell you that I felt your presence 
 at my side through times of strife and hardship. 
 Your character was an inspiration to me at every 
 turn, and, though my following was but a poor emu- 
 lation, the desire to be worthy was strong. 
 
 The thought of you, your tenderness, your sym- 
 pathetic nature, were constantly before me — and I 
 could not forget. 
 
 I need not tell you where I have been and what 
 I have done — you have been with me every moment 
 
184 W A R M E M R 1 E 8 
 
 and you already know. I was uplifted by the 
 thought that you were by my side. 
 
 "With just as much love as though you were still in 
 the land of the living, I am, 
 
 YOUR DEVOTED SON." 
 
 Then there was the ''Vanished Hand." 
 Some of the fathers of these boys received letters 
 from the pals of their departed sons who gave these 
 fathers in many cases the first details of their brave 
 boys' deeds. 
 
 Thanks to the Stars and Stripes for the sugges- 
 tion of "Dad's Xmas Letter." This is just one of the 
 many good things this official organ of the A. E. F. 
 did for us over there. I hardly see how we could 
 have gotten along without this publication. It cheer- 
 ed us with jokes, songs and poetry. It told of new 
 leave areas that were being opened. It told us how 
 Lilj.Mty Loan drives back home were gohig ''over the 
 top." During the dark month of July, 1918, when 
 the Germans were only forty miles from Paris, it 
 told us that we were landing on the average of ten 
 thousand American soldiers per day in France. In 
 short, the Stars and Stripes was the next best thing 
 tc, ;::-:f,uv; '"[t.-rs from home. It cheered the army 
 in the mud and blood of the trenches and it encour- 
 aged the men in the Service of Supplj^ — the army 
 behind the army. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 185 
 
 MY BEST TRIP IN FRANCE 
 
 The morning of November 27th, Lieutenant Chas. 
 T. Gilden, Jr., a dentist from Philadelphia and 
 I wanted to see Verdun and the awful sights 
 around the city. We started out walking on the road 
 toward Verdun and we soon '"flagged" a truck. 
 The driver said he was carrying some supplies to 
 the army of occupation, so we decided to go on as 
 far as Luxemburg with him and then catch another 
 truck back. We passed through the heart of the 
 historic city of Verdun. We rode through the 
 narrow streets lined by three and four story build- 
 ings for blocks and blocks. All of the buildings I 
 saw either had great shell holes in them or were 
 partly knocked down or entirely wrecked. 
 
 Beyond Verdun we passed through a long stretch 
 of shell-ploughed country that looked like a perfect 
 hell on earth. On and on we rode until we reached 
 concrete dugouts, a perfect trench system and strings 
 of camouflage stretched across the top of the road so 
 as to conceal any movements on it from our observa- 
 tion balloons. Many large trees along the road were 
 mined so that when the mines were set off the trees 
 would fall across the road and block a pursuit. 
 
 We rode through many deserted towns. In one 
 through which we pas.sed I saw a theater in the cen- 
 
186 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ter of the town where the German soldiers were af- 
 forded amusements. On the eastern end of the town 
 was a large prison camp. 
 
 Just about dark we came to the city of Longwy 
 and here we found many French inhabitants. The 
 Oermans had passed through the town a few days 
 before on their evacuation. We spent the night in 
 Longwy and started out early the next morning for 
 Luxemburg. When we got into the country of Lux- 
 emburg, I could see a difference. The soil had been 
 tilled and the yards around the farm houses kept 
 clean ; the people looked well and dressed well and 
 did not seem to have been hard pressed by the war — 
 no shell holes in the fields, no ruined villages — every- 
 thing looked prosperous and it made me forget I was 
 so near poor Belgium and France. 
 
 We arrived in the city of Luxemburg about noon. 
 Here was the capital of a little country which had 
 been surrounded by nations at war. The street cars 
 and streets were crowded. The show windows were 
 decorated wath Christmas goods, 
 
 I went into a store to buy some souvenirs to bring 
 back with me. The people there speak French, Flem- 
 ish and German and many other languages. A 
 pretty little girl came up to wait on me and after 
 much difficulty I managed to tell her in a few broken 
 French w^ords what I wanted. When I finished she 
 
WAR MEMORIES 187 
 
 laughed (not smiled) at me and said, "Wliat do you 
 wish, I speak English a little bit?" Well, her Eng- 
 lish was a long way better than my French so we 
 conversed thereafter in English. 
 
 That night we were given passes to one oi the 
 leading social clubs of the city. All of the Americans 
 were treated royally by the inhabitants. Some day I 
 want to go back to that little country of Luxemburg. 
 
 We found a good place to sleep in a nice residence 
 that night. Early the next morning we walked out 
 the street that led back into France towards our 
 camp. We had not gone far before a truck came and 
 we boarded it. The truck turned off from our road 
 at Verdun. We waited a little while and then waved 
 down another truck. We arrived at camp a little 
 after dark. I think I enjoyed this trip more than 
 any trip I made during my stay oversea.s. 
 
 The next day was Thanksgiving Day. After din- 
 ner I went to my little hut and built a fire in the 
 stove. In a little while the room was warm and I 
 began a long letter home telling about my trip to 
 Verdun and Luxemburg. 
 
 I have this letter before me now as I write these 
 lines and the last page reads: 
 
 ''We had a good dinner. We had chicken instead 
 of turkey. Also had some olives, the first I have 
 had since I left the Slates. Tt is raining now, a cold 
 
188 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 winter rain, but I am comfortably fixed. I have 
 a good fire in my stove and have plenty of wood in 
 my wood box. 
 
 I have more to be thankful for as each Thanks- 
 giving Day rolls by, but I have more to be thankful 
 for this Thanksgiving than all the rest put together. 
 
 Just think, next Thanksgiving, if nothing happens, 
 I'll be at home! Oh! how happy I'll be to be back 
 home again. I love home, but now I love it and 
 can appreciate it more than ever before. 
 
 Continue to keep cheerful, because that great day 
 isn't so far away now. With all my love." 
 
 The last of November our Replacement Depot was 
 disbanded and most of us were assigned to the va- 
 rious regiments of the 40th Division. I was assigned 
 to the 157th Infantry (40th Division) and stayed 
 with this res'iment until we landed in New York. 
 
 to-" 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE SUPPER 
 
 The 157th Infantry was billeted in many towns 
 before we received orders to entrain for the port of 
 embarkation. I will relate my experiences in but 
 two of these towns — ^Cheminon and Pont-de-la-May 
 (a suburb of Bordeaux.) 
 
 We stayed in the little town of Cheminon longer 
 than any other place and we were there during Christ- 
 mas. One of the things that I will always remem- 
 ber was the Christmas Eve supper that Sergeant 
 
WAR MEMORIES 
 
 189 
 
 Brinson Wallace of Millen, Ga, and I enjoyed to- 
 gether. 
 
 I had a room in a French home. A little before 
 dark we got a loaf of bread from the company mess 
 sergeant and bought from a store some French sar- 
 dines and nuts, and went to our room. The red hot 
 coals in the fire were just right and we sharpened a 
 couple of sticks and toasted some bread, then opened 
 the sardines, pulled an old box up near the fire and 
 spread our Christmas Eve supper on it. 
 
 While eating, we talked of the good times we were 
 going to have when we returned home We were 
 just going to eat, sleep, and have a good time. We 
 thought of the many Christmases that we had en- 
 joyed, the presents we received and the bells and 
 holly decorations. But we did not have to have 
 these things then to make us happy; just the thought 
 of the war being over and that we would soon enjoy 
 again the good old times made us feel mighty happy. 
 As we were enjoying our feast our conversation 
 finally drifted to the girls back home. 
 
 Just across the hall from us that night was a merry 
 little group. I knocked on the door to return the 
 dishes we had borrowed and when I walked in the 
 room I saw a glorious picture. There sat the father 
 wdth his wife and three children. Four long years 
 of fighting — four Christmases in succession absent — 
 
190 M^ A R M E M OKIES 
 
 and now he wa.s back with them. His return was the 
 grandest present the wife could have received and 
 all the toys in the world could not have made the 
 children any happier. Then I returned to my room 
 and wrote the following letter to my mother: 
 
 ''France, December 24, 1918. 
 Dearest Mama : 
 
 I have just finished supper. I bet you can't guess 
 what I had. It was raining so I couldn't go out to 
 supper, but stayed here in my room, and Brinson 
 Waliace and 1 opened a can of French sardines 
 and toa^sted some bread. Quite a difference from the 
 Christmas Eve suppers I used to have, but I'm 
 happy, and I'm enjoying sitting by the fire thinking 
 of how I used to enjoy the "night before Christ- 
 mas," a long time ago. So I've spent most of the 
 day thinking of the times that used to be and mem- 
 ories of those happy days have constantly been be- 
 fore me all day, and next Christmas Eve probably 
 I'll look back on how I spent this day, so what I've 
 done today will soon be memories, too. 
 
 I spent a part of the afternoon watching a French 
 lady wash my clothes in a little branch that runs 
 just back of the house. They move like a machine. 
 "What amused me most was the way she w^ould beat 
 the w^ater out of the clothes with a paddle. 
 
 Today seemed long and lonesome until this after- 
 noon wlien it bunst into sunshine, for I received four 
 letters. 
 
 Brinson Wallace is stavinof in the room with me 
 
WAR MEMORIES 191 
 
 and sleeping on my bedding roll, and what do you 
 reckon? He went out of doors for a second, and 
 much to my surprise, he brought in a big snowball. 
 He says the ground is covered with snow two inches 
 deep. It's the first snow we've had. Well, Mama, 
 don't worry abont me. Just think how glad I'll be 
 to see the home folks. We'll be here in Cheminon 
 until the 15th of January, and then make another 
 move tow^ard home. Have not seen Linton Howard, 
 Frank Miller or Fleetwood Lanier. A heartful of 
 love. FRANK." 
 
 Christinas morning I wrote the following home: 
 "France, Christmas morning, 
 
 December 25, 1918. 
 
 It is nearly 11:00 o'clock. I have just come back 
 from services that our Regimental Chaplain held in 
 Company "I's" barracks. He gave a mighty good 
 talk. He used to be Assistant Attorney General of 
 Iowa, and also quite a campaign lecturer for Presi- 
 dent Roosevelt. 
 
 After all, today isn't so blue as I thought it w^ould 
 be. The mail I received yesterday certainly was a 
 ''life saver." I'm enjoying the day, thinking of my 
 many blessings; of how much I have to be thankful 
 for. I have a "home coming" to look forward to. 
 So many will be left over here. So many of the boys 
 that you knew who were in college with me are 
 buried over here now and many are w^ounded and 
 many had such narrow escapes. I was with these 
 boys in the class room, I used to loaf with them be- 
 tween classes underneath the large oaks on the cam- 
 pus during ihe lazy Spring months when our 
 
192 W A R M E M OKIES 
 
 thoughts were of Commencement time and the sum- 
 mer vacation more than books and they are the same 
 boys that have often been out home, and now how 
 hard it is for me to realize that we won't see some 
 of them any more. Calvin George, from Madison, 
 Ga., who was in my law class, was killed July 28. He 
 was with the 38th Infantr^^ (3rd Division) and they 
 saw terrific fighting even before our division went 
 into the Toul Sector. Poor George Harrison! Think 
 how he used to throw the old baseball to me at third 
 base, like a rifle bullet ! A one pounder hit his right 
 arm and the University's star second baseman of 
 1912 to 1916 will never throw another ball with that 
 arm. 
 
 Clark Howell, Jr., who is a Major now, had some 
 narrow escapes. I heard he had his helmet knocked 
 off by a piece of shrapnel during the Argonne fight. 
 Haven't seen Julian Erwin, Joe Lumpkin, Charlie 
 Martin nor Fred Reid, but have seen lots of boys 
 that I did not know were over here. Wish I could 
 find Watson White and Cranston Williams. 
 
 You can imagine our losses when I tell you I saw" 
 the graves of five of our officers from the 328th In- 
 fantry buried alongside each other. My platoon had 
 fewer casualties than any other, I think, in the regi- 
 ment. The Mexican that Lieutenant Kirby trans- 
 ferred for one of my men was killed out of my 
 platoon. 
 
 At 4 :30 my company w^ill have a Christmas dinner. 
 We bought la couple o-f Jturkeys and some other 
 things out of the company funds. I'll write you 
 about it tonight. Lots of love. 
 
 FRANK. '^ 
 
WAR MEMORIES 193 
 
 A LEAVE AT LAST, BUT— 
 
 While we were in Cheminon, one of my many ap- 
 plications for a leave actually came back from di- 
 vision headquarters approved. 
 
 When we were on the British front in the Spring 
 we had our trunks stored and later they were sent to 
 Gievres, a little town in the middle of France. I put 
 in for a leave to go down to Gievres to get my trunk 
 which my mother spent an entire day at Camp Gor- 
 don in ''packing" and which I had not seen but 
 once since it left the States. The leave was ap- 
 proved December 28th and read as follows: 
 
 ''Headquarters 40th Division, 
 
 December 28, 1918. 
 
 Special Orders, 
 
 No. 125. (Extract.) 
 
 Second Lieutenant Frank A. Holden, 157th In- 
 fantrv, is authorized to proceed to Gievres for the 
 purpose of locating personal baggage. This leave 
 will not exceed two days. He will not remain m 
 Paris longer than is necessary to make the first tram 
 connections. 
 
 By command of Major Gen. 'Strong. 
 
 F. H. Farnum, 
 Act'g. Chief of Staff." 
 
 I caught the first train for Paris and from there 
 caught a local; rode almost all day; located my 
 
194 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 trunk at Gievres; secured a Ford from the Quarter- 
 master; rode to a nearby town and there boarded a 
 crowded train back to Paris, standing up nearly all 
 the way. 
 
 When I arrived in Paris I was almost exhausted. 
 I saw some officer from our outfit who Avere going on 
 a wreck's leave; hence I knew w^e would not move 
 soon. I wanted to see Paris again and also buy some 
 souvenirs. Here let me explain the rules governing 
 American soldiers passing through Paris. When an 
 American arrived at any of the various stations in 
 Paris he had to register with the Military Police, who 
 would stamp on his leave of absence the date and 
 time of his arrival. We were allowed only twenty- 
 four hours there, unless we had a specir.l leave to 
 Paris. When w^e left the city an M. P. would look 
 at our leave to see if we had overstayed our twenty- 
 four hours. If we had, he would take our names and 
 outfit and it would be reported to our Commanding 
 Officer. 
 
 Paris was a groat place to meet up with old friends. 
 and while strolling down one of the principal ave- 
 nues I spotted in the throngs that passed a familiar 
 face. It was Lieutenant Lovick P. Lingo of Mil- 
 ledgeville, Ga. I was particularly giad to see him for 
 he was with the 3rd Battalion of my old regiment, 
 and I had often wondered if he came through alive. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 195 
 
 His face fairly beamed with happiness and his 
 eyes sparkled with delight. He had every reiison to 
 he jubilant. He was just out of the hospital where 
 he was treated for gas and a wound received at Cor- 
 nay on the 9th of October, and had just heard the 
 grand news that he had been awarded the Distin- 
 guished Service Cross, and on top of all that, he was 
 in the city where pleasure and gaiety reigned supreme. 
 And in this some city ol Covnay and on the same 
 day that Lingo was wounded, my first cousin. Lieu- 
 tenant W. M. AVeaver (327th Infantry) was wounded 
 and captured. He and his men were in a house sur- 
 rounded by Germans and after being ordered to 
 surrender and while attempting to escape from the 
 house Lieutenant Weaver was wounded himself and 
 saw five of his men shot down. When he had gone 
 about twenty feet from the house he was shot again 
 in his side and when he fell a German ran to him 
 and covering Lieutenant Weaver with his pistol car- 
 ried him back a prisoner. I thought of my cousin as 
 I was talking to Lieutenant Lingo. Weaver at the 
 time was somewhere in Germany with a menu minus 
 breakfast, with cabbage and carrots for dinner, and 
 carrots and cabbage for supper. 
 ''How long will you be in Paris?" asked Lingo. 
 ''Just passing through," I said. "Wish my pass 
 let me stay longer." 
 
196 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 *'You know Ralph Bassett from Fort Valley, Ga., 
 don't you?" 
 
 ''Sure; I was in college vrith him four years," I 
 said. 
 
 "Well, he is in charge of the A. M. P, here. He 
 may extend your time in Paris." 
 
 I lost no time then locating Ralph. I called on 
 Lieutenant Bassett and walked over near his desk. 
 A Colonel was asking for an extension of time; 
 Ralph (a First Lieutenant) turned him down. 
 When he saw me he told me to pull up a chair and we 
 talked at length. 
 
 We were old friends and classmates in college. 
 After talking over old times I said: "Ralph, there 
 are two favors I want to ask of you. First, I am out 
 of money and I am in Paris for my last time. I 
 want to buy a few souvenirs to carry back w^ith me." 
 He said he would be glad to recommend me to the 
 American Express Company. He gave me a letter 
 asking that they cash a check for me up to any rea- 
 sonable amount, then he put his official seal on the 
 letter and said that I would have no trouble in get- 
 ting the money, and I did not. 
 
 Then Ralph asked what else I had on my mind. I 
 told him that I had been in France nearly a year; 
 had never had a leave granted me, except a day's 
 pass to Nancy, and I wanted him to extend my leave 
 so that I could stay in Paris a few days. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 197 
 
 He said that he would be glad to do so and asked 
 to see my leave order. When he read, *'He will not 
 remain in Paris longer than is necessary to make 
 first train connections," he was silent for a moment, 
 and then said: "Frank, I can't extend your leave on 
 that order; I can't override a Major General's order, 
 but if you stay here a few days, I will help you all 
 I can." I walked out of his ofrice feeling good. I 
 saw Paris for a couple of days, enjoyed the real sight 
 seeing that Paris affords, enjoyed the many fiaie 
 dishes she boasts of, bought a lot of souvenirs and 
 returned to my outfit. 
 
 Everything rocked along just fine when I first got 
 back to Cheminon. But wait. In about two weeks, 
 one cold, rainy day, some one knocked at my door. 
 It was an orderly from headquarters. He handed 
 me a paper. I signed for it, then walked over by the 
 fire to read it. I did not know whether I had been 
 transferred or promoted. But it was neither. It was 
 from headquarters of the 40th Division, asking me 
 to explain by endorsement thereon, why I overstayed 
 my leave in Paris. 
 
 Well, I did not know what to do. I had learned 
 that an army paper, especially an endorsement, 
 ought to be brief and to the point. For once in my 
 life I w^as going to vary from this rule. I wrote on 
 the back a long answer, telling of the five recommen- 
 
198 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 dations for my promotion never going through, how I 
 tried to get back to my division, my long stay in 
 France and never getting a leave while many who 
 applied for leaves after having just landed in France 
 received them back approved. I heard nothing more, 
 so ''all's well that ends well." 
 
 IN vSOUTHERN FRANCE 
 
 Finally onr oreigiment received (orders to move. 
 After a ride of two days and nights, packed and 
 jammed in box cars, we arrived at Pont-de-la-May, 
 a little suburb of Bordeaux. It was 10:00 o'clock at 
 night when we reached the station and in a down- 
 pour of rain the regiment had to march about four 
 miles and locate their billets. I was mighty glad that 
 some other Second Lieutenant this time had the job 
 of billeting the regiment. 
 
 But I caught a detail, as usual. I was left at the 
 station to see that the regimental bag^-a<^c was car- 
 ried over the next morning. An old lady who was 
 station agent, had some bed rooms over the depot, 
 and I paid her a few francs for a room. I was very 
 tired, so I enjoyed a nice rest in one of those soft 
 French beds. 
 
 The next morning I saw the baggage safely to the 
 proper places and began to look for the billeting of- 
 ficer to get a room assigned to me. All of the rooms 
 in the finest houses had been taken. It was cold and 
 
WAR MEMORIES 199 
 
 rainy and I wanted to get located as soon as possi- 
 ble. I had learned by this time, though very late, 
 that the best way to get anything in the army was 
 to go after it yourself, so I started out to find a room. 
 •Seeing a fine chateau in the distance, I decided to ask 
 for a room there. It was all walled in like most of 
 the fine chateaux. I opened the big iron gate, walk- 
 ed in and rang the door bell. The lady of the house 
 and the maid came to the door. The lady refused at 
 first to let me have a room, but after pleading with 
 her for some time, she told me I could have a room 
 on the third floor. 
 
 Well, I felt then as if the Colonel had nothing on 
 me, as my home was the finest chateau in the little 
 suburb. I looked out of my window the next morn- 
 ing and I saw a beautiful girl with large, brown eyes, 
 plump build and a round, happy looking face. She 
 was picking flowers in the garden. She reminded 
 me so much of a real girl — you know what I mean — 
 an American girl. 
 
 Sunday afternoon I was invited to have tea wdth 
 the family. I was very happily surprised Vv^hen I 
 saw the beautiful girl I had seen from the window 
 in the sitting room that afternoon, and more so 
 when Mrs. Du Sault introduced her as her daughter. 
 Madeline was her name. She could speak a little 
 English but not so well as her mother and older 
 
200 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 brother. The little boy, about six years old, could 
 say ''hello" and "good-bye," and often used the 
 words at the wrong time. A few minutes after I 
 met the familj^ some friends from Bordeaux came, 
 four good-looking young mademoiselles. You can 
 imagine what a glorious time I had in a room full of 
 good looking girls — sometimes a rare treat even back 
 in the New World. 
 
 They asked me how far I lived from New York. 
 I was very happy when I found my home town (Ath- 
 ens, Ga.) in the little boy's geography. They seemed 
 to think that all Americans lived in or around New 
 York City. 
 
 Knowing how the French boys like American 
 cigarettes, I bought a box for Jean, the older brother, 
 and after refreshments were served I gave him the 
 box of cigarettes. He, being very polite, passed them 
 first to the girls, each taking one. Mrs. Du Sault 
 joined them in their smoking. When the party was 
 over and I told them all good-bye, Madeline followed 
 me to the hall door. I asked her if she would go with 
 me to a picture show in Bordeaux the next afternoon. 
 "Yes," she said, "but mother will have to go Avith 
 us." 
 
 When I returned to my room, I thought for a long 
 time. I could not put those two things together — a 
 young girl 19 could not go out with a boy unless her 
 
WAR MEMORIES 201 
 
 mother went with her, but could sit up in her home 
 with the boys and smoke cigarettes. The next day 
 the girl and I w^ent to Bordeaux and her mother went 
 with us. They helped me select many souvenirs. 
 
 Bordeaux did not seem to belong to a country that 
 had been at war. It was a lively city with a pop- 
 ulation at that time of about 150,000. The French 
 here sounded different from that spoken by the peo- 
 ple in northern France. I went into Bordeaux nearly 
 every day. 
 
 On my last trip into the city I met my old college 
 mate. Lieutenant Hill Freeman of Newnan, Ga., and 
 he and I looked around the city searching for souve- 
 nirs to carry home. We talked a great deal about 
 our homes down in Georgia. 
 
 Home was uppermost in our minds. Many times 
 during the day while at Bordeaux a picture of home 
 came before my eyes, and oftentimes at night I lay 
 awake thinking of home and I am sure there were 
 many others thinking of their homes, too, whether it 
 was a "Little Gray Home in the West," or a palace 
 on Fifth Avenue, New York, or a home in Iowa 
 ''where the tall corn grows," or a home down in 
 Dixie Land ; no matter where it was, it was the best 
 place on earth to us. 
 
 Mine was down in Georgia where the limbs bend 
 with juicy peaches and ''where the watermelons 
 
202 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 grow;" where stately pines are swayed by mountain 
 breezes on the north and kissed by the ocean winds 
 on the east ; yes, down in Georgia was where I longed 
 to be, the greatest place on earth to me, where the 
 honeysuckle blossoms perfume the meadows and the 
 daisies brighten the hillsides; where the sun shines 
 the brightest and hearts are the lightest — my home 
 down in Georgia, that's where I longed to be, in Ath- 
 ens, Ga., where lived the only known sweetheart of 
 John Howard Payne — Miss Mary Harden — to whom 
 he sent the original manuscript of his famous verses, 
 **Home, Sweet Home." Excuse me, please; but re- 
 member, while writing, I went back in my thoughts 
 to Bordeaux where we waited so long and became so 
 homesick and I became impressed with the longing 
 I had there for home. 
 
 SERGEANT WHITE 
 
 Quite a few casuals joined our regiment to go back 
 with us. For everj^ six months overseas we could 
 wear a gold chevron on our left arm and for every" 
 wound received we could wear a gold chevron on 
 our right arm. But, though a soldier was wounded 
 two or three times or more by the same shell, he was 
 entitled to wear only one wound stripe on account of 
 these wounds. Occasionally we would see a soldier 
 with two or three wound stripes on his right arm, 
 
WAR MEMORIES 203 
 
 and seeing such a sight excited our highest admira- 
 tion. 
 
 One day while Ave were in Pont-de-la-May a soldiei' 
 reported to our company who attracted the attention 
 of all who saw him. On his right arm were lined five 
 gold wound stripes. Never before had we seen a 
 right arm almost covered with wound stripes. His 
 name was Sergeant John B. White of Spartanburg, 
 S. C. He was a tall, handsome soldier and limped 
 slightly. He went overseas with the 1st Division. 
 
 Some of our officers doubted White's right to wear 
 five wound stripes. They could hardly see how a 
 man could have been wounded on five different oc- 
 casions. Five wound stripes meant that he had been 
 wounded five separate times, going back to the hos- 
 pital for treatment after each wound was received. 
 But investigation of the strictest kind never brought 
 anything to light that served to discredit Sergeant 
 White's right to wear the five stripes. I talked to 
 him quite a bit. German bayonets, shrapnel and 
 machine gun bullets left sixty-three wounds on his 
 body. To one disposed to doubt him, the sight of 
 these would have been convincing. A bayonet wound 
 was on his hand. Many of his wounds were so close 
 together that they looked almost like one big wound. 
 
 Just before we left Pont-de-lay-May for the em- 
 barkation camp, General Pershing reviewed us. We 
 
204 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 lined up early on the morning of February 27th for 
 the review. It had been raining quite a bit. We 
 marched by the General several times in different 
 formations in mud ankle deep. After that we 
 were given open ranks and the General walked by 
 us so fast that his aide was almost running to keep 
 up with him. Occasionally he would come to a quick 
 halt and point his finger at a soldier and ask him a 
 question. He asked a few who were wearing wound 
 stripes where they were wounded. Some would say 
 in the leg and others would say at Chateau Thierry. 
 After that, the General went back to the reviewing 
 stand and then called for all the officers and non- 
 commissioned officers to gather around him in a semi- 
 circle. The General wanted to make us a speech. 
 
 Sergeant White was confined to his company area 
 that day, but asked his captain if he could go out 
 and see the review. His captain told him he could, 
 but to stay in the background and not be seen. Ser- 
 geant White was a fine looking soldier. That morn- 
 ing he shaved close and shined his shoes, and he made 
 a splendid appearance. There were a good many 
 French inhabitants out to see the review\ Just as 
 we were going up to hear the General's talk, I saw 
 Sergeant White edge out from behind the spectators. 
 One of the General's aides caught the flash of the 
 five shining wound stripes and went over and met 
 
Seargent 
 Johi B. White 
 
 General 
 John J. Pershing 
 
WAR MEMORIES 205 
 
 him. As we were waiting for the General to make 
 us a little talk the aide introduced Sergeant White 
 to the General, and there, as they stood facing each 
 other, the General's official photographer took their 
 pictures. And there was Sergeant White, the big- 
 gest man of the day, (although under order of con- 
 finement to his company street) now standing before 
 the regiment answering the questions of the Com- 
 mander of the American Expeditionary Forces. 
 
 One day as I w^as whiling aw^ay the long hours 
 coming home on the boat, lying out on the deck in 
 the w^arm sunshine as we were passing through the 
 Gulf Stream, White came up and handed me a pic- 
 ture of our General and himself. The General had 
 sent him several of the pictures. I now have this 
 picture and prize it as much as I do any of my many 
 little remembrances of the w-ar. I often look at it. 
 To me, it is a w-onderful picture. In it General Per- 
 shing and Sergeant White stand face to face and five 
 gold wound stripes on the sleeve of a Sergeant face 
 four shining silver stars on the shoulder of the Com- 
 mander of the A. E. F. 
 
 When we arrived in New York there w^ere many 
 reporters down at the harbor to interview us, and one 
 began asking me questions. 
 
 ''Wait a minute," I said, ''you don't want to talk 
 to me. Let me introduce you to Sergeant White." 
 
206 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 I introduced liim to White and the last time I 
 saw the Sergeant he wa,s surrounded by reporters. 
 The New York Herald said that he was a worthy 
 rival of Sergeant York. 
 
 During the summer of 1920 while I was eating 
 lunch at a restaurant in my home town, two stran- 
 gers were at the same table with me and we began 
 talking. When I learned they were from Spartan- 
 burg, South Carolina, I told them the story about 
 White that you have just read and after I finished 
 one of the men looked a little sad and said, ''I'm 
 glad to meet someone that knew White in the army. 
 His mother is anxious to know more about his brave 
 deeds. He was going to a ball game not long ago 
 from Spartanburg to Greenville and was killed in an 
 automobile accident. ' ' 
 
 Sergeant White, over the top seven times, with 
 sixty-three wounds in his body, none of which proved 
 fatal, came home and was killed in an automobile 
 accident ! Life surely seems strange, sometimes, 
 doesn't it? 
 
 White was laid to rest in Oakwood Cemetery, Spar- 
 tanburg, S. C, May the 14th, 1920. His war record 
 is written on his tomb with the following verse : 
 ''Nor shall your glory be forgot, 
 While Fame her record keeps. 
 Or Honor points the hallowed spot. 
 Where Valor proudly sleeps." 
 
WAR MEMORIES 207 
 
 TEN MONTHS' PAY 
 
 Here's another incident before I close. A few 
 days before we sailed for the States, I received $2,500 
 to pay my men their February pay. This was our 
 last pay day while in France, so we were paid in 
 United States money. Some of them had not been 
 paid in several months. One of the sergeants had 
 not been paid since April, and he drew over $300.00. 
 I paid him three one hundred dollar bills and some 
 change. He was an ''old Regular Army Sergeant," 
 and had been in the army for ten or twelve years. 
 After I finished paying the men this sergeant asked 
 me to keep the three hundred dollars for him until 
 we arrived in New York. I got out my little note 
 book and put him down for three hundred dollars 
 in the column where I was noting the other money 
 I was keeping for the men. 
 
 The next morning the sergeant came to me and 
 said: "Lieutenant, I want to get one of those hun- 
 dred dollar bills, I need some money." 
 
 ''All right," I said, "it is yours but if I were 
 you I would not spend it until I got back to the 
 States." I gave him the bill and deducted a hun- 
 dred in my note book. 
 
 That afternoon he came to me again and said: 
 "Lieutenant, I hate to keep worrying you but I want 
 just one more hundred dollar bill." 
 
208 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 ''All right/' I said, ''it is yours but I wish I had 
 locked it up so I couldn't give it to you until we 
 landed in New York." I gave him another bill, 
 made a notation in my note book and he walked away 
 saying, "Lieutenant, I won't ask you for the rest 
 until we get on the other side." 
 
 The next day one of the corporals came to me and 
 
 said: "Lieutenant, Sergeant said he did 
 
 not have the heart to come to you for his last hun- 
 dred dollar bill, but sent me to ask you to please send 
 it to him, that he needed it right away. ' ' 
 
 "All right," I said, "it's his. I hate to see ten 
 months' pay go in a day." I gave the corporal the' 
 last bill and checked our account even. The corporal 
 said as he was leaving, "The sergeant told me to tell 
 the Lieutenant that he believed his luck would 
 change and that he hoped tomorrow to bring the 
 Lieutenant a barrel full of money." 
 
 The next day the sergeant told me that he had 
 lost it all. "Lieutenant," he said, "it would not 
 have been so bad if I had lost the money to the men 
 in our company, but to lose it to the company in the 
 barracks next to ours certainly hurts me." 
 
 I was informed by the time we puffed by the Statue 
 of Liberty more than the sergeant's three hundred 
 dollars had been taken from the "company in the 
 barracks next to ours," though not by the sergeant. 
 
WAR MEMORIES 209 
 
 A LITTLE DIFFERENT 
 
 The following is a letter I wrote to my uncle, John 
 F. Holden, at Crawfordville, Ga., different from the 
 others I have copied: 
 
 "Bordeaux, France, Feb. 22, 1919. 
 Dear Uncle Johnnie : 
 
 I am going to write you a letter a little different 
 from most of the letters I've written from France — 
 one that doesn't picture the horrors of war. 
 
 First, I will tell you what I saw today. I saw^ the 
 bodies of fifty-seven men, women and children who 
 died over five hundred years ago. Their bodies were 
 buried in the yard of the Saint Michel church in 
 Bordeaux and were dug up a hundred years ago. 
 Their bodies w^ere preserved by the veins of arsenic 
 and lime in the soil. Today these bodies are standing 
 upright in a circle in the basement underneath the 
 tower of the Saint Michel church. The skin is still 
 on the bodies, and on some of them the hair on their 
 heads is preserved. You can still see the expression 
 on their faces, and some who are said to have been 
 buried alive have an awful expression of agony. I 
 am enclosing a picture of them. 
 
 After I saw this most w^onderful and strange sight 
 I went to the ''Museum de Bordeaux." Here I 
 saw the most wonderful works of art in the world. 
 Some of the paintings and statues were sent down 
 from Paris during the war for safe keeping. The 
 museum is worth going miles to see, and I know it 
 would be great for one who really appreciates art. 
 
 Now something about the French people. I have 
 
210 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 had occasion to be billeted in a number of French 
 homes since the Armistice. As j^ou know, they are 
 internationally known as exponents of extreme cour- 
 tesy, politeness and a careful regard for the feel- 
 ings of others. Really, they are sometimes too polite. 
 
 The French are very industrious. They are slow 
 workers, but regular. They are never idle, but are 
 doing some kind of work all the time. But there is 
 one time when all worry and work is laid aside and 
 that is at meal time. Their breakfast usually con- 
 sists of a big bowl of half coffee and half milk and 
 a ''chunk" of bread. I say ''chunk," because they 
 usually break off their bread instead of slicing it. 
 Eating is an art with them. At dinner and supper 
 they eat, talk and drink their wine sometimes for 
 more than an hour. Wine is the national drink; 
 some of it is no stronger than our grape juice. They 
 are amazed when we call for water to drink. 
 
 I am in the midst of the great vineyards of 
 France. Each vine is cared for as our mothers at 
 home care for their flower gardens. 
 
 There is a network of deep and narrow canals in 
 many parts of France. It is a common sight to see 
 two horses pulling a boat of freight on these canals. 
 They make these little rivers run where they want 
 them, often changing their courses. 
 
 I wish you could see the wonderful chateaux over 
 here. They are so elegantly furnished. Most of 
 them are walled in and many have lawns and beau- 
 tiful large shade trees. I know they had great times 
 before the war. 
 
 It will not be lono' before I will be back home 
 
WAR MEMORIES 211 
 
 and then I can tell you of France lots better than I 
 can write about it. The death of Uncle Oscar Holden 
 deeply grieves me. Everybody who knew him ad- 
 mired him for his strong mind, high character and 
 frankness. Don't suppose you want to go back to 
 State 'Senate. Love to all. 
 
 FRANK. ^' 
 
 Most of the men in my detachment were boys, 
 who had been wounded, gassed or sick; thus most 
 of them had been at death's door since they landed 
 in France. One of the many orders while here was 
 that men who became intoxicated would be assigned 
 to Labor Battalions, which would be the last outfits 
 to leave France, I did not just read this order to my 
 men, but I gave them talks about it. I told them 
 there were anxious hearts waiting on the other side 
 of the Atlantic and they were just as anxious or 
 more to see their boys than they themselves were to 
 get home. I am thankful to be able to say no one 
 in my detachment had to be courtmartialed and 
 transferred to Labor Battalions. 
 
 Two and three times a day and perhaps more I 
 look at the present wliich the men in my detach- 
 ment gave me after we arrived in New York, and 
 as long as I live I hope to tell the time of day by 
 this watch. This watch and the one I have which 
 my Great Uncle (Governor Alexander H. Stephens) 
 wore during the War between the States and when 
 
212 WAR MEMORIES 
 
 he was inaugurated Vice-President of the Confed- 
 eracy, have a sentiment about them which makes 
 them precious and priceless. 
 
 You have nearly finished reading my little story. 
 I did not do much. Many did more than I. In my 
 last leifer addressed to "dear home folks," w^ritten 
 from France the day before we sailed, among other 
 things I wrote: ''My last letter to you from America 
 expressed a desire to do my duty, and after that to 
 return safely home. I have done my duty and now 
 the boat {The Julian Luckenhaclie) is in the harbor 
 nearby which will soon take me back. ' ' 
 
 Yes, I yet feel that I did my duty and I find this 
 feeling is the greatest reward and consolation one 
 can have here on this earth. 
 
 HOME, SWEET HOME 
 
 We stayed in Pont-de-la-May until March 3, 1919, 
 and then came our embarkation camp orders. 
 
 The Du Sault family helped me to pass away many 
 happy hours that otherwise would have dragged by 
 like days. Later, I had to move nearer the company 
 I was attached to and therefore had to give up my 
 room in the Du Sault chateau but a Sunday afternoon 
 never passed while we were stationed there that I did 
 not enjoy it with them. I was rather sad the last 
 
WAR MEMORIES 213 
 
 Sunday I spent in their home. They saw soon after 
 I met them that I loved ''home life" and they did all 
 they could to make my stay with them pleasant. I 
 enjoyed their company so much, especially that of 
 the beautiful girl, Madeline. She picked up quite a 
 bit of English during my stay there. She was very 
 amusing and witty. During my last Sunday after- 
 noon with them they seemed a little sad over my 
 leaving. That afternoon there was another visitor 
 out to see them who had spent some years in London. 
 Madeline and I decided to use her for an interpreter 
 so we three went out in the front yard. I asked her 
 if she was going to wTite to me and she answered 
 that I had many girls in America and I would soon 
 forget her. Madeline seemed a little sad, too. I 
 noticed she was not as witty as usual, but she was 
 only saving her wit for the last. While passing 
 through the sitting room into the dining room for 
 refreshments, Madeline and I lingered behind and 
 when all had left the room but us, we stopped. While 
 looking at each other, I took her hand and said, 
 ''Madeline, it's my last time with you, aren't you 
 going to let me kiss you good-bye?" "Why, no!" 
 she said, laughing, "why should I? I am not your 
 mother. ' ' 
 
 I have often thought of how she used to tell me of 
 her envy of the happy American girls. One day I 
 
214 Vv A R MEMORIES 
 
 asked her who was her fiance, and in a very sad way 
 she gave the answer that so many French girls gave 
 when asked that question. If you will imagine that 
 the majority of Americans who went overseas had 
 been killed, and that the majority of American sol- 
 diers who were in the camps in the United States who 
 did not go over, and all the others who had regis- 
 tered for service, had been wounded — then you can 
 get an idea of what France suffered. 
 
 The next day, March 4th, we started our march 
 to the embarkation camp on the other side of Bor- 
 deaux. It was a long march to the eamp, but the 
 distance did not matter then, because ice ivere going 
 Jiome. 
 
 During our stay in the embarkation camp we had 
 many hard details in the rain and mud, but it did not 
 matter then, 'because tve were going home 
 
 We did not pin the Stars and Stripes to the high- 
 est building in Berlin as we thought we were going to 
 do, but we had the consolation of knowing that we 
 could have done it, and Avere now satisfied and were 
 going Jiome. 
 
 All of us had not distinguished ourselves in the 
 fighting as we so earnestly desired, but we knew we 
 were a part of something big and great and were 
 smiling and happy, for noii' we were going home. 
 
 Some of us had the tedious all nig-ht tasks of 
 
WAR MEMORIES 215 
 
 making out the passenger lists, but what did we care 
 then, because ive were going home. 
 
 We did not board a 'George Washington or a 
 Mauretania, just an old slow freighter, but that was 
 all right, because tve icere sailing toivard home, siveet 
 home. 
 
 And as we slowly sailed out of the Gironde river 
 into the Atlantic, leaving the shores of La Belle 
 Prance, I had a peculiar feeling w^hich I shall never 
 forget and that last picture will ever be remembered, 
 a picture that is written indelibly on my memory, and 
 that picture is a girl standing on the shore waving 
 us a last good-bye and wearing on her forehead a 
 Red Cross. 
 
 Have you wondered what became of Jouffrett? 
 Well, I'm glad to tell you he came through all right 
 
 THE MCGREGOR CO., PRINTERS, ATHENS, GA. 
 
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