After we were installed in the barracks at Langres and had our personal belongings straightened out, we were given the day to ourselves. This was the first freedom that we had had since our arrival in France. The boys, of course, all went to the business section of the city, where many of them were given their first glimpse of French customs and French methods of merchandising. As I had been fortunate in getting into the business section of Brest while we were there, this was not new to me, but to most of the boys it was a novel experience. They spent their time and much of their money in the French stores, buying small articles of various kinds. One oddity of the freedom that we were given here was the fact that the American soldiers, although forbidden to buy alcoholic liquors in America, were permitted to buy them without restrictions in France, and it is only telling the plain truth to say that many of them sampled the French beers, wines and cognac.
I had an experience in a French barber shop that may be of interest, as it shows the difference between French and American barbers. The French barber does his work very rapidly, in fact so rapidly when he is shaving that the patron wonders whether or not he is going to get out of the chair uninjured. I ordered a haircut, a shave, a shampoo and a face massage. I had much difficulty at first in making my wants understood, particularly as to the manner in which I wanted my hair cut. This finally made clear, I sat in the chair and the barber went to work on me with his sharp shears. His hands moved like lightning and it seemed like no more than two minutes that he had the job done. It was the fastest hair cutting I ever witnessed and a good job, too. He then proceeded to shave me, and for speed he exceeded his already phenomenal record as a hair cutter. He put a thin lather on my face and then with a thin razor—the thinnest I ever saw—he slashed off a four days' growth with six strokes—one down the right cheek, one down the left cheek, one across the entire upper lip, one—a fancy curved stroke—across the chin, then up one side of the neck and a final stroke up the other. In less time than it takes to tell, the job was done, and it was a clean smooth shave too. But while he was slashing that razor around I was uneasy. It was my first and last experience with a French barber; thereafter, it was safety first. The massage was excellent, but what impressed me about the shampoo was the small amount of water used. Water must be costly in Langres from the way that barber conserved it, but with no more than a handful of water, he did his work well. The face waters used by French barbers are all highly perfumed, in fact, too much so for the rough Westerner. When a man leaves a barber shop he carries a sickening sweet aroma with him and his friends know where he has been when he is as much as a hundred yards away. It may be of interest to note that the shave, hair cut, shampoo and massage cost me two and a half francs, or a little less than 50 cents American money. The price of the same service in the average American shop at the present time (August, 1919) would be about $1.65.
The following day the men in our detachment were assigned to various kinds of work at Langres. I was given a motor truck to drive. It was in very poor condition and my first duty was to get it in working order. I spent three days overhauling it and had it in fair serviceable shape. But after putting all this work on it, I had the pleasure of running it only about three days, for I received orders, along with 208 others, to pack and get ready for a special course in a military school. I had only half an hour's time to get ready, but at the appointed time I was prepared to go, and with the boys chosen for the schooling, was loaded onto a motor truck and taken to Fort St. Menge, one of the numerous protecting forts around Langres. This was an old fort, apparently built many years ago. It was situated on the summit of a mountain and was surrounded by a moat, which, however, was dry. It was substantially built and exceedingly interesting. The barracks were built underground and of stone. They were sealed and were water-tight. Soil from ten to fifteen feet in depth covered these stone compartments and they were proof from the bombs of other days, but would have but feebly resisted the modern high explosives. There were also several tunnels leading from various parts of the interior to the outer walls, so that men could be taken to any part of the fort that might be attacked without being exposed to the enemy's fire. About a thousand men could be billeted there.
Water for this fort was supplied from two deep wells and raised by a peculiar lift pump, different from any that I ever saw before. It was a sort of combination of a lift and pressure pump and was of European design and manufacture. The wells were deep and the water good, for France.
On the day after our arrival there we commenced our work. We were given a stiff drilling for three weeks, with scarcely a minute's rest. We often worked until two or three o'clock in the morning. Our daily routine was as follows: Arise at 5 o'clock; breakfast at 6; calisthenics and manual of arms drill from 6:30 to 7:30; instruction from 8 to 12; lunch from 12 to 1; instruction from 1 to 5; evening instruction from 7 to 10, and often until 1, 2 or 3 o'clock the next morning. It was here that we received advanced learning in intelligence lines for our work in the war.
We studied with French and American instruments such as were then being used by the Allied armies on the western front. I cannot describe these instruments in detail or tell much about our instruction because I have given my oath never to reveal any of the details of this work. I am permitted, however, to name some of these instruments, such as the subterranean microphone, sizorscope, horoscope, perpendicular and horizontal range finder, elongated three-power French binocular, instruments for determining the height of airplanes, etc. We had to acquire a practical knowledge in the use of all these instruments, as they were to be our future implements of warfare, and in matters of this kind, accuracy is of vast importance. We also had to learn the signals of the French, British, Italian and American aviators; the international Morse code; to send and receive messages perfectly under all conditions; to have a practical knowledge of the use of telephone and telegraph instruments; their attention and repair; and how to keep the lines of communication in working order at all times and under any and all conditions.
From this brief summary, it can be readily understood that the Government crowded plenty of work upon us during those three weeks. At the completion of the courses examinations were given, and only 86 of us out of a class of 208 succeeded in reaching the required percentage. Of the others most remained to take the course for another three weeks, while a few were released from the work as not qualified for that particular kind of service.
All the time that we were studying we were drilled just as though we were actually at war. We were compelled to dig in, to find the range on certain objects and to direct imaginary artillery fire upon them. We had to find the range of airplanes that passed over us, just as though they were enemy planes. This drilling was as near like actual warfare as it was possible to make it and because of this, we grasped the meaning of our work and the details very quickly.
We were also drilled thoroughly in the art of camouflage. To be successful in camouflage, one must learn to imitate nature and that is what we had to study, and one's tracks must always be covered. A successful bit of camouflage not only deceives the eyes of the enemy aerial observers, but it also deceives the lens of the enemy camera. To make this perfectly clear, it should be said that the lens of cameras used in warfare are exceedingly delicate and frequently when the plate of an aerial photograph is developed, it reveals a spot that means some extraordinary work on the part of the enemy, which the eyes of the aviator did not detect. It can be readily understood, therefore, that unless the camera is also deceived, the camouflage has not been well done, for enemy planes, having located the spot by means of their photograph, could plan to bomb it, but if the plate did not show anything, then the camouflage is successful.
While we were at Fort St. Menge we received our gas masks and we were compelled to go through many gas mask drills. This was done so we would become efficient in putting them on when we got to the front line. With a little practice we got so we could adjust them in a remarkably short time. We were also given our steel helmets while here, and we realized fully that we were getting nearer and nearer to the scene of action, and that our sham warfare would soon give way to actual fighting. We were also drilled in rifle shooting and by the time we were ready to leave, we were in every way fit to participate in the great struggle in which we were soon to take part.
As soon as our schooling was completed, we were told to get ready to leave for Langres, so we packed up and we were compelled to "hike" back to that city. At Langres we spent two days in getting ready for the front. We were ordered to leave fully equipped with the best of those things that we had to have. This meant that new articles were issued to many of us. For instance, if a man had a pair of shoes that was partly worn, he was given a new pair, and some of our old clothes were turned in for new garments. These were two busy days and our time was entirely occupied in getting ready. We were limited as to the things we could take with us. We were given our barrack bags and told to put in these bags all the things that we had to leave and that those of us who returned would receive their bags when they got back. My bag contained a number of toilet articles, clothes and other articles that I took with me from the United States. I never saw that bag again, as I was gassed and wounded and never went back to Langres, but I suppose that it has long since become the property of some one else.
When we were ready to leave Langres we marched with full equipment to a station three miles from the barracks we were leaving, where we were billeted in wooden billets. Here we spent the night. We had to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning to take an early train. It was a bitter cold morning, but we did not notice this much, as we were on our way to the scene of action and our thoughts were on the future. A cup of coffee, a couple of doughnuts and a bun was the only breakfast that we had, but it was all we wished. We carried traveling rations, of which we made good use later on. We boarded the train at 4:30 o'clock and rode on a fast passenger train until 11 o'clock, when we arrived at Toul. We traveled in second and third class passenger coaches. At Toul we were well received by the Red Cross, which furnished us with some food, and this, together with our traveling rations, provided us with a hearty meal.
We left Toul at 1 o'clock and marched toward the front. We were soon within the sound of the heavy guns. We continued on the road for several hours, and then, as we were getting into the zone where shells fell occasionally, we were told to thin out our ranks so that if a shell fell among us our casualties would be light. From then on, we marched about eight or ten feet apart in single file on each side of the road. We were ordered to wear our steel helmets as a protection against shrapnel. Some did not see the need of doing this, but most of us were glad to take the precaution. We crossed several narrow gauge tracks on our march, and saw trains carrying supplies of all kinds to the battle front. They were pulled by gasoline engines. We also saw our first barbed wire entanglements. These were built back of the lines as a protection to the French in case the Germans should break through on that front. They were about twenty-five feet in width and extended north and south as far as the eye could see. Later on we saw barbed wire entanglements as much as 250 feet in width, put up as a barrier to the Boche, should they break through.
Airplanes were now very numerous. They were darting back and forth at various heights. We were anxious to see an airplane battle, but none took place on that front on that day. We could see observation balloons in the distance. Those in the very far distance we knew to be enemy observers.
We marched until 7 o'clock, when we reached a woods, where we were permitted to stop. We were given our evening meal, which consisted of bully beef and hard tack. The woods was our sheltering place for the night. Some of the boys said they slept well that night, but I will be absolutely truthful and say that I did not. The knowledge that we were under shell fire and the unforeseen events that the immediate future held in store for me so weighed upon my mind that I could scarcely close my eyes. I really do not understand how any of the boys slept. We could hear the screech of the shells as they whizzed by, but, fortunately, none of them hit near us. Only a few days before several hundred American boys were gassed in this same woods, and our gas guard kept a close watch for gas shells.
The next day we proceeded on toward the Verdun front. We marched all day long, with only occasional stops. We were not in the open, however, going from one woods to another; when we marched in the open, only small bodies of men would move at a time. At 11 p.m. we stopped marching and made our camp for the night. Most of the boys were so weary from their long "hike" that they wrapped up in their overcoats, lay down on the ground and went right to sleep. We remained three days here waiting for orders. We were near the front, could hear the guns all the time and the occasional rattle of a machine gun. When our orders did finally come, we were told to march back over part of the same route we had come and we finally stopped close to Novient. It was here that we saw our first action and it was here that we finished our education in the work that we were to do under the supervision of the French, who held this front before it was taken over by the Americans.
We were billeted at Novient for three days in wrecks of buildings that had been ruined by Hun shells. At first we did not do much work because it was not definitely known whether or not we were to remain there.
Although we were in the war zone and under shell fire at all times, we were amazed when we learned that there were still a few French peasants in the vicinity. These were mostly old men and old women, and a few, but very few, children. These peasants would not leave their old homes, though requested to do so by the French Government. They preferred to remain there and be killed by a Hun Shell, if that was to be their fate, than to leave the spot that they so dearly loved. The young men of these towns were all fighting at the front and the young women had gone to the larger cities, farther from the front, where they found employment at good wages.
Most of these old peasants kept a cow or two and a few chickens and they sold milk and eggs to the American soldiers, thus realizing a small profit for their great hazard. We paid seven francs or about $1.35 for a dozen eggs and four francs or about 70 cents for a gallon of milk. We were indeed glad to get these luxuries, even at these prices and considered ourselves fortunate. In Novient two beer shops were also conducted and sold the soldiers light wines and beers, the prices being one franc or nearly 20 cents for a small bottle of beer, five francs for a bottle of red wine and from seven to ten francs for a bottle of white wine.
After three days at Novient, we moved forward toward the trenches, where we were to complete our training for work in the Flash Service. At this time we were divided into small detachments, there being fourteen men in the detachment to which I was assigned. We were taken to a woods about a mile and a half from Novient, and there had our first introduction to the French S. R. O. T., or service similar to our Flash Service.
In this woods we were billeted underground, where we were protected from shell fire. Each detachment was billeted with an equal number of French, and it was from the fourteen French in our detachment that we were to complete our education for the special work for which we were preparing. In other words, we were to learn the practical application from the French of the knowledge that we had learned in the school at Fort St. Menge.
Our first experience in actual war work was in an observation tower in this woods. This tower was 65 feet in height. It was cylindrical in form and built of steel about half an inch in thickness. The interior was about five feet in diameter. In the tank (so-called) was a lookout post for observation work. It had small slits on all sides that could be readily opened and shut, through which we were to take our observations. We entered the tower through a trap door in the bottom, and the men working at the post locked the door while they were at their duty. The tower was erected in a thick growth of tall trees, and was well camouflaged. It was securely hidden from Hun eyes, yet gave us a full view of the Hun trenches in that vicinity. It was from this tower that I first saw the enemy, and got my first glimpse of the Hun lines and got my first full view of a modern battlefield.
The French outer trench was only one-quarter of a mile from this tower. The German trenches were just a little way beyond those of the French, the distance varying from fifty yards to a quarter of a mile, according to the terrain. With our strong glasses, we could get an excellent view of everything that Fritz did in this part of the line.
In this tower the French taught us their secrets of observation in modern warfare. They showed us how to locate German batteries, machine gun nests, railroads, troop movements, supply trains, aerial activity, observation balloons, etc. We paid particular attention to watching how often Hun airplanes arose, where they crossed our lines, whether or not they were fired on by our anti-aircraft guns, the number of Hun planes in the air, the purpose of their flights, etc. It was particularly important to get the point where the German aviators crossed the Allied lines. Their planes followed a system in this so as to try to avoid our anti-aircraft guns. They would cross at a certain point for one or two days, then, believing that if they attempted to cross there again they would meet with a warm reception, they would change the location, thus keeping the Allies guessing all the time. The French remained with us about ten days, during which time we acquired sufficient knowledge to take up the work ourselves, and the American troops then took over this section of the line.
Our conveniences while here were not good, but they were as good as we expected. We accepted our lot without protest. All our provisions had to be carried in at night on our backs, as it would have been dangerous for a supply train to attempt to bring anything in during the day. There was no water at all in our immediate vicinity. That which we used for cooking and drinking purposes had to be carried from a spring about three-quarters of a mile distant. While going to this spring on one occasion, we located a blackberry patch, which gave us a little diversion. We conserved our flour for several days, and then picked enough blackberries for pie. On two occasions we had blackberry pie and it is no exaggeration to say that it was absolutely the best morsel of food that any of us had ever tasted. It was a luxury, I venture to say, that but few soldiers in the extreme front line trenches were privileged to enjoy.
A few days after the French left this front to us, we became aware that we were preparing for some big military manoeuver. What it was, of course, we were not told; we knew, however, that it was to be on a gigantic scale. It subsequently developed that we were preparing for the great St. Mihiel drive, that wonderful independent plunge into German lines by American troops, which straightened out the St. Mihiel salient and showed definitely to the Germans that ultimately they were to be defeated.
A brief description of this preparation may be of interest. Our first intimation of this manoeuver was the bringing up of great quantities of ammunition. This was placed in the woods and well camouflaged. Next, heavy artillery came up in greater quantities than we had any idea that the American army had in France. Then light artillery was brought up in numbers proportional to the heavy guns. Then thousands of fresh troops were marched up and placed under the cover of the woods. These men marched up at night, so as not to be seen by Hun airplanes. It should be stated here that during this preparation Allied air machines had complete mastery of the aerial situation and as soon as a Hun plane appeared on the horizon, it was pursued until it either was brought down, or it escaped back to its lines.
While the infantry was stationed in these woods, no time was lost. The men were given their final instructions in fighting Bosch. They were drilled hard every day and they became particularly efficient in the use of the bayonet, a weapon that in the hands of a Yank the Germans fear worse than anything else that I know of. Rifle practice, of course, could not be indulged in while in these woods, because the noise might attract German attention, but bayonet drills never ceased. Thorough drilling was also given in the use of machine guns. Men were instructed how to repair guns, were told what to do in case certain parts of the gun were injured, were shown how to take guns apart and put them together again, and before the end of the drilling, these men became as efficient in machine gun work as Fritz himself.
The last step of the preparation was the bringing up of the tanks. These came up at night in great numbers. There were tanks of all kinds, from the huge British machines to the "petite" or little French tank. These were also camouflaged and concealed in the woods. After the tanks were brought up, their gunners were given a final thorough drilling in the use of their guns, their machines, etc. We had never before seen such a vast equipment of war material.
It is difficult to express my feelings during the final days of this preparation. I knew that something of a gigantic nature had been planned and that the time was close at hand. I also knew that whatever it was it would surely succeed, for nothing could resist the combined force of all that preparation when the final word was given. I cannot but admit that enormous quantity of ammunition, the vast number of light and heavy guns, the thousands of men ready for the fray, caused me to feel a certain indescribable sadness, for I knew, that although success was sure to follow our drive, some of these brave boys were to pay the price with their lives. On September 11th, the boys were drilled for the last time. We were then required to strip our bodies of all our clothes and to smear ourselves with a salve. This was a preparation that was designed to protect the body from burns in case we encountered the deadly mustard gas.
After dark and all during the night there was a steady stream of men going to their positions in the trenches. They knew that the time for the manoeuver to start was near, but whether it was to be 24 or 48 hours, they did not know. But we of the Flash Service did; we knew that at one minute past midnight on the morning of September 12th, the zero hour, the Germans were to be given their great surprise party, and we counted the minutes as they were ticked off the watch until that time arrived.
It was exactly at 12:01 o'clock on the morning of September 12th, when the great St. Mihiel drive began, and when all the preparation of which I told in the preceding chapter was brought into play in the first great independent movement of American troops, which was to give the Germans a warning of what they were to expect from the army from across the seas, of which they had so sneeringly spoken. The drive opened with a demoralizing barrage, the greatest of the kind that, up to that time, had ever been laid down by artillery. It greatly exceeded in the number of guns brought into action and in amount of ammunition used, any barrage that either the Germans or the Allies had, prior to that time, attempted. It was like letting hell loose upon the Germans in the salient at all points within the range of our guns. Language is inadequate to describe this barrage and none except those who were actual participants in the drive will be able to visualize in the mind the terror that General Pershing's guns belched forth on that momentous occasion. Those who have imaginative minds may be able to form some faint conception of what this great battle was like, if they can picture thousands of guns—heavy, medium and light—belching forth their fire with ceaseless regularity for six long hours. It was pitch dark when the first guns opened with their roar, but it was not long before the heavens were lighted with a brilliant pyrotechnic display, something like elaborate Fourth of July fireworks, but multiplied by millions in intensity. The heavy artillery spit forth long flames as they were discharged. The long flash, the rapidity with which it is dashed from the gun muzzle, and its sudden disappearance, reminded me of a serpent's tongue. And serpents' tongues they were, indeed, to German hopes, for as sure as these are facts, the St. Mihiel drive sealed the doom of the despised Huns. As far as the eye could see, these flashes were being repeated at stated intervals, and in front of them were the smaller and more rapid flashes of the medium artillery; and adding their flame, smoke and noise to the din far out in front was the famous light artillery, which did such effective work throughout the war.
It was not long after the barrage began before the Germans began to throw star shells. These were for the purpose of lighting up No Man's Land. They are thrown to a height of several hundred feet, and as they slowly descend, they burn a brilliant white light. These added to the brilliancy of the fireworks. The object of the Germans in throwing these star shells was to keep No Man's Land lighted so as to be ready to repel our attack. They knew, of course, that our barrage was to be followed up with a charge, but they did not know at what hour it was to be launched. The star shells were thrown so that they could not be taken unawares in the dark.
Far behind the line in Fritz' territory we could see our shells bursting. The telltale flash meant that the Huns were getting a dose of severe medicine, though we could at that moment only guess at the destruction that was being wrought. Later we were to see the havoc worked by our accurate artillerymen.
The object of this demoralizing barrage was to break up the morale of the Germans and in general to pave the way for our infantry charge that was to follow. It shattered the German trenches, plowed through their barbed wire entanglements and kept those who survived in a state of great nervous tension, because they knew a great charge was to follow. Our guns were also trained on such objects as headquarters, railroads, heavy artillery emplacements, cross roads, ammunition dumps, aviation hangars, etc., from information that had previously been obtained by the Flash and Sound Ranging sections. The heavy artillery did great damage far in the rear. The medium artillery, not having the range of the heavy guns, did not reach so far back with its fire, but demoralized things generally wherever its shells hit. It also had for its purpose the breaking up of any attack that might be planned as a counter offensive. The light artillery is of smaller caliber and fires more rapidly. This did wonderful execution and was a great help in winning the war.
It was exactly 6 o'clock when the demoralizing barrage stopped, and it was followed by a protecting barrage. There is quite a difference between a demoralizing barrage and a protecting barrage. A demoralizing barrage is just what its name signifies, a demoralizing rain of shells upon the enemy. A protecting barrage is for the purpose of protecting the infantry as it charges into the enemy's lines and it is raised slowly as the infantry advances so as to keep over the heads of the marching soldiers. As soon as the protecting barrage was fired in this drive, the first waves of infantry went over the top.
Most people have a misconception of what going over the top is. The prevailing idea is that a great mass of troops rush over the top and into the German trenches. What really occurs is this: The men climb out of the trenches at an ordinary pace in a thin line from six to ten feet apart. This is followed in a few seconds by another thin line about the same distance apart, and then another, and so on until there are thousands of men advancing over No Man's Land, but they are scattered over a large area. The object in scattering them is to reduce losses in case an enemy shell falls among them. I have seen a shell fall among men advancing this way without hitting any of them, and I have also seen several fall from a single shell. Another reason for these thin waves is the fact that when advancing in this formation the men offer a poorer target to the machine guns of the enemy, while in mass formation, a machine gun could mow down in a short time a whole company.
Just ahead of the waves of infantry in this drive, wiggled the tanks. These cumbersome, awkward, ugly but efficient machines were of great help to the foot soldiers. They not only made a path through the barbed wire entanglements that the artillery had not destroyed, but they hunted out and destroyed German machine gun nests, which were so dangerous to the infantry. The tanks had a very difficult task and they performed it well. Too much credit cannot be given to the tank crews. They were brave, skillful and good fighters. It is true they were in a measure protected behind the steel walls of the machine, but, on the other hand, they were exposed to heavy fire, it was hot and disagreeable within and in case of being struck by a shell or running onto a mine, the horrors were worse than those to which other fighters were exposed. The greatest danger was that of being trapped within and burned to death in case a shell hits the gasoline tank; a number were destroyed in that manner. So I give full credit to the tank men for their heroic services—they braced the greatest dangers without knowing such a word as "fear."
As our boys went over the top they were given the protection of an aerial squadron. Only those who were advancing toward the Hun lines on that day, with full realization of their duties and their dangers, know what a feeling of protection these hovering planes gave us. They flew low, frequently just over the heads of the men, and poured their deadly machine gun fire into such of the Hun trenches as the artillery had not destroyed—and, no matter how thoroughly the artillery does its work, there is always plenty left for the other branches of the army to do. These daring airmen also dropped fishtail bombs on the Huns. These men were the bravest of the brave. They had the courage, grit and combative qualities of the lion. They are constantly in great danger. They are fired upon from below by enemy anti-aircraft guns, and frequently from above by enemy planes. They are also exposed, when they fly low, to rifle fire and machine guns and machines are frequently brought down by such fire. During a drive of this kind they also face the danger of running into their own barrage and are restricted as to the area in which they may manoeuver. We cannot give these fearless men of the flying corps too much praise for their work. While men in all branches of the American army were brave and all did their duty, I think the airmen, like the tank men, deserve a special meed of praise for their daring, and when I say this, I intend in no way to detract from the bravery of the men in any other branch of the service.
The Flash Service, to which I belonged, was not a fighting unit. While we were heavily armed, so that we could defend ourselves and fight if necessary, we were not, in the strict sense of the word, combatants. It was more important for us to keep the lines of communication in working order, to give the artillery the range on certain objects, to locate machine gun nests and direct fire upon them so they could be destroyed, than to fight, for there were sufficient numbers in other branches of the army for that purpose. But we did not overlook an opportunity to help our cause, and it is with a great deal of pleasure that I tell of a machine gun nest of thirteen men captured by three of the men of our detachment, though of a different post from mine. It was during the early morning of the first day of the drive. It should be stated that the American infantry advanced so rapidly that it frequently went right by carefully concealed machine gun nests. This was just what the Germans wanted them to do, because they opened fire from the rear and rained bullets on our men from two sides. The three men that captured the nest of which I am telling were just in back of the second wave of infantry that went over the top, following it up for the purpose of establishing our line of communication from front to rear. They came upon this nest as the Huns were preparing to fire at our advancing men. When they first located the nest the Americans had their revolvers carefully wrapped in greased coils and in their holsters, not expecting to use them—the greased coils being to keep the weapons from rusting from the dampness of the trenches. These resourceful American boys lost no time, however, in getting their weapons ready for use, and by a quick and intrepid manoeuver, they approached the Huns, covered them with their revolvers, and compelled them to surrender without so much as firing a shot. The Huns were taken to the rear, and their gun, a Vicker, became a trophy of war.
It was about 9 o'clock in the morning while we were advancing that I came upon a petite French tank, which had run upon a Hun mine and had been completely destroyed. The machine was reduced to a pile of junk, and it was hardly believable that a mine would work such destruction. The heavy iron was torn in shreds, and while we knew it was a tank and we knew what had happened to it, it was now nothing but scrap iron.
Just about that time the infantry was capturing thousands of Hun prisoners—men who had occupied the front German trenches and who were overcome by our boys. As I was advancing, I saw 3,700 German prisoners marching to the rear, and as it was still early in the day, you may know with what thoroughness our boys were doing their work. Among these prisoners was a German officer who knew the location of the mines that had been planted to destroy tanks, bridges, roads, etc. The Americans were not long in learning this and they compelled him to point out these locations. Under his guidance, 52 mines were destroyed. These might have done great damage to American tanks and soldiers if they had not been set off. As it was, they opened a pathway through which our tanks passed without danger.
As we went forward into the territory that had been held by the Huns, we could see the results of our own work, that is to say, we could see objects upon which we had given the range to the artillery, completely destroyed. It was gratifying to note that our work and the work of the artillery had been so accurate. Objects, such as headquarters, railroad tracks, cross roads, that we had located through our strong glasses before the drive, and upon which we had given the distance to the gunners, had been shattered by direct hits, speaking wonders for the marksmanship of the American gunners. At some places we saw scores of men and animals that had been killed by shell fire; at others we saw trenches that had been as completely wiped out as though they never existed; we also saw ammunition dumps that had been hit and set afire and which burned steadily for several days. These were exceedingly dangerous places, and we kept a good distance from them until they burned completely out, as the exploding shells threw flying metal for a distance of a hundred yards or more. We also came across railroad trains that had been hit as they were proceeding, and so badly crippled that they had to be abandoned by the enemy, later to be captured by us.
We advanced about ten kilometers the first day, and then our men were directed to dig in. Here we met with our first real resistance. The enemy counter attacked during the night, but his charges were finally broken up by our accurate fire.
Our advance that day had been rapid and had penetrated deeply into the enemy line. This had been possible because of the rapidity with which our supplies had been brought up. The roads for the most part were not badly cut up, and those that were damaged were quickly repaired by our engineers. Bridges had been hastily built, obstructions removed from highways, and shell holes filled in so that traffic could go on almost uninterruptedly. This made it possible for all necessary munitions to move forward.
One thing that was annoying to our advance was the German "pill boxes" in which machine gunners were placed. These pill boxes were of concrete. They were round and flat, a few square, and took their name because of their resemblance to a pill box. They had slits about six inches wide and eighteen inches long in the concrete through which the Huns fired their machine guns at our troops. Our most effective weapon against these pill boxes was our one pounders. They fired a small shell directly at the box and continued to fire until they got the range of the slit. The shells would then penetrate the slit and hit the other side of the box, exploding when they did so, and killing or wounding the occupants. Once the range was obtained, our gunners kept pouring in these shells until there was no longer any fear that the Fritz soldiers in that box would harm any more Americans. Our boys put many of these pill boxes out of commission with big loss to the enemy. They made duty in a pill box certain death for the Huns when any Americans were around.
We spent a rather restless night after our first day's advance. Though we had marched many miles and were mentally and physically fatigued, it was not easy to sleep. We were in constant danger of counter attack and of being shelled by the enemy, and the sensation was not pleasant.
Early in the morning of September 13th, the second day of the drive, we advanced again in the gray of the early dawn. It was between 8 and 9 o'clock on this morning that I saw a great aerial fight in which probably thirty-five and perhaps forty machines participated. We had advanced so far the first day that the Germans sent their aircraft out in numbers on the second day to look at the territory that had been lost. Our men were ready for them. It was the most thrilling sight I ever witnessed, and I cannot imagine anything more sensational. At first these machines were very high in the air, perhaps ten thousand feet, for they were mere specks in the sky to the natural vision. It was wonderful to see them manoeuvering for positions of advantage. They twisted, turned, looped and dove. At times two or three would be very close together and then again they would separate. Little white puffs of smoke told the tale that the machine guns were in action. They reminded me of bees swarming, as they buzzed and circled around each other in the air. As they fought they descended, coming nearer to earth and thus plainer to our vision. Suddenly one dropped out of the ranks, a struck machine. We knew it was permanently out of commission the minute it started to fall, for it dropped like a dead bird. It was a Hun machine and it dropped close to where I was located, so close in fact that within a few minutes I was inspecting it and taking small souvenirs to send home from its collapsed wings. Then another dropped, but it fell far from where we were located and its descent was so swift that we could not see its insignia and were unable to tell whether or not it was a Hun machine. Then one came down wounded, but still able to fly. It was an American machine, for it sought refuge in back of our lines. And so the fight continued for a few minutes—it did not last long—until a total of eight machines dropped and several others flew away wounded. Just what percentage of Hun and Allied planes fell, I was never able to ascertain, but the best evidence that the majority of them were Hun machines was the fact that the remaining enemy planes soon departed from the aerial battle field, leaving the Allied planes in complete control. The Allied fleet of planes in this fight was composed mostly of Americans, though our airmen were aided by a couple of British and a couple of French machines.
We continued our advance throughout the second day, though we did not proceed as rapidly as on the first day. This was because the roads were in poorer condition and supplies could not be so rapidly moved forward and for the further reason that the country was more wooded and offered Fritz a better opportunity for defense. Our boys were counter-attacked on several occasions, but each time they sent the Huns flying to the rear with heavy losses. In hand to hand fighting, such as often resulted when counter attacks were lodged, the Germans were no match for the Americans, who seemed to excel in close work which required bravery, skill and dash. In fact, it was in this kind of work that our boys showed Fritz what we mean in America by "punch."
On the third day we advanced as far as Thiacourt, which was our objective. On this day we also met with stubborn resistance. It was here that we encountered many pill boxes and it required considerable difficult and accurate work to put them out of business.
It was on the night of September 15th that we saw our hardest fighting, and were given a taste of how hard Germans could fight when pressed. It was on this night that our losses were the heaviest of the drive.
My post was dug in on a ridge that was occupied by a detachment of incomparable fighters—the Marines. The ridge was only about 500 yards in length. The roads being in bad condition, we were unable to get the protection of any artillery. All that we had to keep Fritz at bay on this ridge was about forty machine guns, which were no match for the heavy shells that the Huns were pouring on us, having our range to a nicety. We were in what is known as "graves," or shallow trenches, not having had time to dig deep trenches or to strengthen our positions as we were constantly under fire. But these Marines laid down a machine gun barrage, the first that I had ever seen. They kept up the fire all night and thus held Fritz away. It was a tense period. Hun shells were dropping all around us and frequently right among us, but the machine guns never ceased their excellent defensive work. When day broke, and the Hun ceased firing, only seventeen of these machine guns and their crews were in condition to fight. Twenty-three of them had been destroyed by the German artillery. It was a sad sight that met our eyes the morning when we saw the losses that we had suffered during the night.
It was on the night of the fourth day of the drive that fresh men were brought up, and those of us who had been out in front during the drive were relieved. It was, indeed, a great relief. It permitted us to relax our bodies and minds after four days of steady strain, with no more food than was sufficient to sustain us and without rest during the entire time. We were grateful to be away for a short time from the devastating fire that the Huns were pouring into our front line trenches in an endeavor to check a further penetration into their lines, but we were still under shell fire.
We were taken a short distance to the rear, where we were billeted in German dugouts. The day before these had been occupied by German officers. They were elaborately fitted up with all things necessary for luxury and comfort, such as beds, bathtubs, electric lights, etc.
It was here, seemingly as a reward for my small services in the great fight, that I met my friend and companion, McKinley Johnston, of Sacramento. Nothing could have pleased me more for McKinley Johnston is like a brother to me, having been my companion since boyhood. It was with him that I had talked of enlisting long before I volunteered, and it was he who enlisted with me. Though we became soldiers together and entered the same company, the fortunes of war separated us in France, and united us at a moment that was most gratifying to us both. We sat down together and related our experiences. He was driving a truck, and from him I learned of remarkable escapes that he had had from death during the four days of the drive. On one occasion a Hun shell, sufficient in size to have blown him to atoms, lodged in his truck among supplies and failed to explode. I saw the shell myself, also saw the hole in the top of the truck through which it passed and can vouch for the truthfulness of the story. On another occasion a shrapnel shell exploded on the road just to the right of his truck. When it burst, it sent small pieces of metal flying in all directions. About twenty-five or thirty of these passed through his truck, but not one struck him. I saw the holes they made. The motor of the truck was not as fortunate as the driver. A number of the pieces passed through the hood and lodged in the engine. It was damaged considerably, but it still ran and McKinley was able to complete his trip. I marveled at these stories because they concerned a young man of whom I am very fond, but escapes of this kind were numerous in these days and almost every soldier who passed through the drive can truthfully tell of similar escapes. We were facing death all the time and the remarkable thing is that so many of us did pass through the drive and come out alive.