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Observtions of
a . ; s,
By Private E. A. T
MA 1920
GIFT OF
£ {2.^au^,ML>-*-*l
PRIVATE EDWARD ALVA TRUEBLOOD
Observations of an American Soldier During
His Service With the A. E. F. in France
In the
Flash Ranging
Service
by
Private Edward Alva Trueblood
Press of
THE NEWS PUBLISHING COMPANY
Sacramento, California
1919
■a
• •
••••••
'I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to
the Republic for which it stands —
one nation, indivisible, with liberty
and justice for all."
This book is a record of the personal
observations of a private soldier in
the Flash Ranging Service of the
American Expeditionary Forces In
France. It not only relates his ex-
periences while In France, but also
tells of going over and returning. In
brief, it is a soldier's story from the
time he left America to help crush
the autocracy of Germany, until he
returned again after fighting was over.
411475
<tf
yj^
X
Contents
Chapter Page
I. Going Over 1
II. Our First Glimpse of France 10
III. From Brest to Langres 18
IV. Nearing the Front 29
V. Preparation for Battle 37
VI. The Great St. Mihiel Drive 42
VII. Gassed 54
VIII. Hospital Experiences 63
IX. Home Again 72
i .. nd — c I ''■ a g
In the Flash Ranging Service
By Private Edward Alva Trueblood
Chapter I.
Going Over.
When the sun arose on the 22nd of June, 1918, three
great transports were lying out in the stream of New
York harbor. They were filled with American
soldiers for duties overseas. They were well camou-
flaged and well convoyed. The previous afternoon they
had pulled away from a Jersey City pier, where they had
taken on their human cargoes, and they were undoubt-
edly under sealed orders. They had slipped away quietly
from the t>iers without attracting undue attention, and
while they moved to the location where they anchored
for the night, not a soldier's uniform could have been
detected from shore even after the most scrutinizing
search with the best binoculars obtainable. The de-
parture wa«? made without a word of warning and not
a fond good-bye. It was accomplished with a methodical
silence that called for admiration. It is the way Uncle
Sam does things during war times.
Just before 9 o'clock on that beautiful June morning,
simultaneously but without communicating with each
other, each of those transports began to weigh anchor,
and except for the click, click, click of the machinery
all was silent. Precisely at 9:05, without the blast of a
whistle, the sound of a gong, or the hoisting of a
signal flag on the mast, but like so many automatic
machines, these vessels turned their prows to the sea
and began their long voyage.
One
t ;Am,ofig those who sailed on one of the vessels of this
transport fleet were the members of the Twenty-ninth
Engineers, A. E. F., of which I was a member, being
attached to Company C. Our departure was an occasion
never to be forgotten,
As we glided out of the great harbor and saw first
the Statue of Liberty, then all trace of our native land
disappear from sight, and we realized that we were on
our way to fight the most savage, inhuman and dispic-
able foe that has ever drawn a lance, a feeling of solemn
thoughtfulness came over most of the boys. Many of
them were so affected, as they knew a certain percent-
age of us must inevitably fall in battle, that they went
below to spend a few hours by themselves in serious
thought. I am not ashamed to say that I was one of
those who sought solace for my feelings in thoughtful
solitude.
The vessel upon which we sailed was an Italian trans-
port, by name, the "King of Italy." It was accompanied
by a French and a former German liner and was convoyed
by a destroyer and a cruiser. On the second day out
we picked up four more transports, making seven in all
in ©ur fleet.
There were 1,500 American soldiers on our transport
and approximately the same on four of the other trans-
ports. Two of them, however, carried more than 3,500
men, making a total of about 15,000 men on that one
fleet bound for duty overseas. Of the 1,500 men on the
King of Italy, 500 were white and 1,000 colored troops.
No trouble was caused by this mixture of races because
of good management. The white and colored boys were
kept on different parts of the boat and all guard duty
was in the hands of the white troops.
For the first few hours after sailing, thoughts of
home lingered in the minds of most of the boys, but
these were hastily banished when we had our first life
Two
drill. This took place at 2 o'clock on our first day out.
The drill was a thorough one, and it soon became appar-
ent to most of the boys that even if we should be tor-
pedoed by a submarine while going across, our troops
would have no difficulty in getting away from the boat
before it took its final plunge toward the bottom of the
sea. In the life drill, every man had his place. He was
assigned to a certain boat and could take no other.
The lower decks were emptied first, and then those
above, one at a time. I was bunked on the fifth deck,
hence, as the liner had six decks, would have been
among the last to leave the ship, in case of disaster.
The object of the life drill, of course, was to make it
possible to empty the boat of troops quickly and in
military order in the event that the boat became a sub-
marine victim. Every man was instructed at the sound
of the alarm to go to his bunk and stand there until
given further orders. In the meantime, he was to put
on his life belt. The boys marched out to the life boats
only when they received orders from their superiors to
do so. After a few drills, we mastered the manoeuver
and it would have been possible for us to have emptied
that boat of 1,500 soldiers in twelve minutes, if such
action had been necessary.
We had life drills two or three times a day all the way
across. The signal for the drill was four siren blasts,
and when we heard those blasts, there was a lively time
on deck for a few minutes, until the ship, in theory, had
been abandoned.
American people, who believe in giving their soldiers
the right kind of treatment, and particularly wholesome
food, would have been righteously indignant, if they
could have known how poorly we were fed while on
that transport. Those at home were buying Liberty
Bonds and paying heavy war taxes so that the boys in
the fighting forces would be well fed and clothed, and
Three
yet, it is hard to imagine how men could have been
treated worse, so far as food is concerned than were the
men of this boat. I am going to be just as frank as I
know how in describing food conditions with the hope
that by calling public attention to this petty graft, such
practices will be stopped, so far as American fighting
men are concerned. To any who have weak stomachs,
I suggest that they skip over the next two or three
pages, as the details may nauseate them.
The kitchens and mess rooms of the transport were
on the top deck. Meal tickets were issued to the men,
and when they went to mess, the tickets were punched.
This is the way the Government kept track of the nun-
ber of meals served, as these tickets were collected when
we left the boat. The white men were fed first, and the
colored troopers afterwards. This was done so as to
keep free of any possibility of racial trouble, and appar-
ently it worked well.
After the second day out, our "chow," which is the
soldier's name for food of all kinds, was vile. It con-
sisted largely of spoiled beef and such foods as spoiled
rabbits. When I say spoiled, I mean just what the word
implies. These rabbits were positively in a state of
decay. They had been in cold storage for a long time,
evidently a very long time. Thev had been carried in
the ice boxes without being drawn, and when exposed
to the air the odor of decay was so strong that they
were positively nauseating. I saw strong men turn ex-
ceedingly sick just from the stench, and I do not believe
it is an exaggeration to say that there was more upset
stomachs on that trip from the decaying rabbits that
were given us to eat than from the action of the sea.
The beef that we were given consisted of only the
poorest and toughest parts. The good cuts went to the
mess for the army officers and for the officers and
crew of the ship. The potatoes that we were fed were
Four
the poorest that I have ever seen. They were served
about half cooked, and were small, wet, soggy and un-
palatable. It was seldom that a potato fit fo eat was
given to the men. We received rice several times, but
it was only about half cooked. During one meal we
were given bologne sausage, and after some of the boys
had eaten their allotment, the discovery wa*» made that
the sausage was full of maggots. The soup was like
water with neither flavor nor body. The bread served
was Italian-French bread made with sour dough, and
not at all palatable to an American, who has been accus-
tomed to sweet and wholesome bread. The coffee was
of the poorest quality — probably mostly chickory — and
we were given neither milk nor sugar for it. The re-
sult was that most of the boys did not touch their coffee
at all. The only seasoning given our food was an in-
sufficiency of salt. Everything served was tasteless,
unpalatable and unwholesome.
That there was better food on the boat, we knew, fo»*
we could see it going to the officers' tables. They
were served chicken two or three times a week — the
men never. Officers were given fresh fruit at every
meal — the men not at all. Officers were given palatable,
sweet bread; the men only when they would pay for
it out of their own pockets and then at a big price.
It is my opinion that the owners of the boat on which
I sailed made an enormous profit off those meals served
to the soldiers. Certainly the Government would not
have given the soldiers such unfit food. The Govern-
ment is to blame to this extent, however, in not seeing
that the ship owners lived up to their contract to feed
the men properly. There was a man on board who was
supposed to see that the men were given wholesome
and nourishing food, but he failed absolutely to perform
his duty. Whether he was in the company's pay or
simply negligent, I cannot say, for I do not know. But
Five
it is a fact that he did not perform his duty and 1,500
men were fed spoiled and unnourishing food as a result.
Men who indulge in "graft" of this kind are no better
than traitors, and should be treated as such by the
Government.
As a part of the uneatable diet we were given, numer-
ous complaints were made. We were not long in being
told that we could purchase something in the wav of
wholesome food for ourselves, if we had the money.
This was done on the sly. We could purchase a palat-
able steak for $1.50 or $2, or we could get chops for
about the same price. A chicken would cost about $4.
All the boys who had money were forced to buy food
this way or go hungry. Many of the boys ate only
enough to keep them alive. Often two would go in to-
gether and buy a steak or a chicken, each putting up
half of the money. Even then, we could not get the
food we wanted, a* only a limited quantity could be
"sneaked" out.
We could buy sweet bread in the canteen on the
boat for 25 cents a loaf, and a small loaf at that. That
was the only way we could get it. Sweet rolls, the
kind that sell four for a nickle at home, cost two for a
nickle. Oranges, apples, bananas and other kinds of
fruit cost 25 cents each. Unable to eat the food in the
mess room, most of the boys had to pay the exorbitant
prices asked at the canteen or go hungry.
We had no sugar at all. The Government must
have provided a sugar ration for us, so my conclusion
is that it was stolen by someone in connection with
the boat management and used in some form of graft.
Because it was necessary for them to buy so much of
their food, all the boys who had money with which they
expected to buy things when they landed on the other
side, were without a penny when the boat docked.
Every afternoon between 2 and 3 o'clock, the Y. M.
Six
C. A. workers who were on the transport came on deck
and held song services. Many familiar hymns were
sung. These meetings were very popular at first, but
gradually the fascination for them wore off, and toward
the latter part of the voyage they were but lightly
attended.
The "Y" workers did promote one form of entertain-
ment, however, that the boys thoroughly enjoyed. This
was boxing. Every afternoon several bouts would be
held. Nearly every company had a fighter and he wai
matched with the best man of some other company.
Lively bouts of about three or four rounds were fought.
The colored soldiers took to this sport keenly and they
furnished some good contests among themselves. White
men, however, were not permitted to box the colored
soldiers, as such a bout might have led to a racial
difference. Members of the ship's crew also wanted to
partake in the sport and they furnished several bouts.
The sailors, however, were somewhat awkward at first,
but they were game and they afforded us many a good
laugh. Those who had charge of the boxing never let
a bout go to a knockout. When one man was appar-
ently getting the worst of it or was clearly outboxed,
the bout would be stopped.
Very strict rules were issued on the boat with regard
to lights at night. Every porthole was closed, and every
precaution taken so that not a gleam of light could be
seen. The men were warned that anyone who at-
tempted to make a light would be shot on the spot.
The fleet moved along in the darkness at full speed
ahead. That it did not meet with accident was due to
excellent management on the part of the Government.
All the boats in our fleet were camouflaged. The
King of Italy had great irregular streaks of black and
white painted across it. One of the boats in our fleet
had a really remarkable picture of a sinking ship
Seven
painted on its side. Another had two ships painted
on its side and was camouflaged to look like
two vessels instead of one. While the camouflaged
ships appeared strange at first, we soon were used to
the unusual appearance, and thought nothing of them
A camouflaged vessel is visible to the naked eye, almost
as plain as one that has not been daubed with paint, but
it is through the mirrors of a periscope that the camou-
flage is effective. In reflecting the picture on the
horizon, the mirrors lose some of the rays of light, so
officers explained to me, hence the eyes of the peri-
scope are unable to detect the camouflage.
Our voyage passed pleasantly with smooth seas until
the eleventh day, when the water was a little choppy,
and then for the first time some of the boys were a
little sea sick.
It was my fortune to see our first and only brush
with a submarine. It happened about 4 o'clock in the
morning on the twelfth day out. The sea was choppy
and the night very dark and cold. I was on guard duty
on the sixth deck of our vessel, and I noticed unusual
activity on the part of the destroyers that were convoy-
ing our fleet. Our transport stopped dead still. In a
moment four shots were fired from the destroyer. I
could see the fire from the gun plainly. It was an ex-
citing moment and the first real guns of war that I
had ever heard. Depth bombs were also dropped, then
all was still again. All this happened without disturb-
ing the men asleep on our boat, and in the morning
they were told that the transport had been attacked
by submarines. It was the belief that the destroyer
had sunk one of the U-boats.
We were given orders on the twelfth day to sleep
in our clothes with our life belts on during the rest of
the trip. This was issued so that there would be no
delay in getting off the boat if we were hit bv a tor-
Eight
pedo. That night, being unused to sleeping with
clothes on, was a restless one for most of us. The
following night, however, notwithstanding the fact that
we were fully dressed, we slept well.
We were also joined on that day by a flotilla of de-
stroyers. The sight of these boats was hailed with joy,
for we knew we were nearing land. We had not been
informed, however, in what country nor at what port
we would land, but we had hoped that it would be
France, and we soon learned that our destination was
France.
The torpedo boat flotilla that accompanied us during
the last two days was made up mostly of American and
British destroyers, though there were two French boats
among them. They made a lively scene, and surely gave
us great protection. If a speck would appear on the
horizon, two boats would be off to investigate it, and
would return later to join the fleet. We were also
accompanied on the last day of the voyage by two
airplanes as a further protection against submarines.
We sighted land on the thirteenth day, and it was a
welcome view. Everybody was happy and eager to
disembark. It was quite a contrast from the feeling
that existed just after we left New York harbor. We
were a merry crowd as we entered the harbor of Brest
and we were glad to see a large city again. We dis-
embarked at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Before leaving
the boat, we were given "leaving rations," which con-
sisted of a loaf of sour bread, a can of bully beef and
a small piece of cheese. This was given to us because
we had a long march ahead and our kitchens would not
be in place for several hours. We were taken off the
transport on barges built especially for that purpose.
We were then marched to the Napoleon Barracks, built
by the Emperor Napoleon, eight miles from Brest, and
were glad to put our feet on land again, even though
Nine
the march was a long one after a thirteen day sea
voyage. We had only a passing glimpse of Brest, but
did not mind that as* we knew we would have opportun-
ity to visit the city later.
CHAPTER II.
Our First Glimpse of France
At Brest, the American soldiers got their first idea of
the magnitude of the work that the American Govern-
ment was doing in the prosecution of the war. Prior
to our arrival there we had heard a great deal about
the construction work in French ports that the Ameri-
cans had undertaken, but our ideas of just what this
work was, were more or less vague. At Brest we saw
just what it was. We saw miles of concrete piers that
had been built in record-breaking time with American
skill, American speed and American thoroughness. This
work was a revelation to all France, and the magnitude
of the task, together with the remarkably short time in
which it was completed, stamp it as one of the wonders
of the war and as a lasting tribute to American in-
genuity and efficiency. These piers and warehouses of
American construction played a great part in ending
the war, for they enabled the American Government
not only to land millions of troops in France, but to
provide adequate food, ammunition, guns and other
necessary supplies for these men. Nothing like it had
ever been done before in the history of the world.
Soon after we left the boat at Brest, the men were
lined up on the pier and given a sensible and appre-
ciated address by the Commanding Officer. He told us
that now more than ever before, since we were upon
foreign soil, orders were to be obeyed to the letter. We
were told to be careful in all that we did because by
our actions the French people would judge the Ameri-
can nation. He advised us to do everything commanded
Ten
of us by our officers with snap and thoroughness, so as
to show the French people that we were not raw re-
cruits; that we were real soldiers; that we could do as
well at any task, if not better, than the soldiers of
Europe. The boys, to a man, lived up to those instruc-
tions, and it was not long before the world knew that
the American soldier was the equal of any on earth.
After this interesting advice was received we swung
into squad right and our first march on French territory
began. We first marched more than a mile through
the railroad yards in Brest. These were all of Ameri-
can construction. We saw miles of warehouses, filled
with various kinds of material of war and great quan-
tities of food, not only for the American soldiers, but
for the civilians of France as well. These warehouses
were of wooden construction, and so different in design
and material from other buildings in Brest that we recog-
nized at once that they were built by Yankees. For
this reason, we greeted them as friends; it was like
looking upon a familiar scene.
Most everything else, however, that met our eyes had
a decidedly foreign look. The railroad trains in the
yards were French, and entirely different from those
of this country. The freight cars have a diminutive
look. They are only about half the size of American
cars and they rest upon single trucks. The locomotives
are much smaller than ours and have brass boilers. We
did not see anything of the familiar dark red American
box car and the giant American locomotives until we
got into the interior of France.
We passed many peasant women and children while
we were marching through the railroad yards. Some of
them were offering cakes and nuts for sale, others were
begging white bread from us. It was here that we first
heard those two French words that became so familiar
to us before we left France, "Donnez moi." It was
Eleven
"donnez moi" this and "donnez moi" that, especially
from the children who begged cigarettes, pennies, and
anything else that the American boys might have to
give away.
Brest is built on hills, some of which rise abruptly
and give a picturesque look to the old city. As we
marched through the residence part of the city, the
women from the windows gave us a hearty welcome,
waving flags and calling "Vive les Amerique." Our
march took us over a winding roadway through the
district where the poorer classes lived and we did not
get a view of the more attractive parts of the city on
our arrival. The street we marched along was paved
with broken rock and was in excellent condition; it
was crossed several times by overhead railroad tracks
built on massive arches of masonry.
Our first impressions are rather difficult to describe
because everything had such different appearance from
familiar things in America. One noticeable feature was
the character of the construction. The buildings are of
stone or some other such inflammable material, with
roofs of slate or tile. There are no frame buildings,
except those that have been constructed by Americans
since April, 1917.
The dress and the habits of the people differ mate-
rially from those of America. Most of the lower classes
wear sabots, or wooden shoes. Some wear sabots with
leather tops. But few, if any, all leather shoes are in
use among the lower classes. While all shades and
colors of clothes were worn by children, we noticed
that the women were nearly all dressed in black. This,
we believed to be because they had lost relatives in the
war, and we later found that our conclusion was the
correct one. Among the poorer classes the men wear
large loosely fitting trousers and tight jackets. They
wear a peculiar hat, with a tightly fitting crown, a
Twelve
broad round brim, and two streamers of black ribbon
about eighteen inches long hanging down in back. The
middle classes dress more like Americans, though not
with as well made clothes as one is accustomed to see
in this country.
After marching about five miles, we were given a
rest in an open field in the outskirts of Brest. Here
we were again addressed by an officer and cautioned
to be careful about coming in contact with the French
people, and particularly with the women and children
of the lower classes. We were informed that the lower
classes of women and the peasant children are nearly
all syphylitic, especially in seaport towns. This sent a
shudder through us, for we had already been fondling
some of the French children, before we realized the
necessity for caution. The warning was heeded and
thereafter the boys kept the peasants at a distance.
As we resumed our march, we began to get into a
cultivated district. The rolling land along the roadway
was cut up into small farms ranging in size from a half
acre to about two and a half acres. The boundary lines
of these farms were hedges; there were no fences, such
as we have in America. The land was planted to truck
gardens, berries, fruit trees, etc., and at the time that
we saw them, they were in good condition and appar-
ently quite productive.
It was about 6 o'clock in the evening and after a long
and hard march that we arrived at the Napoleon Bar-
racks, where we were to have a few days' rest before
going into the interior. These barracks are quite ex-
tensive. They are built of stone and are surrounded by
a stone wall. The wall is about three feet thick and
twenty feet high, and it would be a difficult matter for
anyone to scale it. To keep soldiers from trying to get
out, broken glass is cemented into it for the entire
length on top. The purpose of this was to make it so
Thirteen
dangerous that no soldier would attempt to climb it. There
are two arched gateways leading to the interior. These
archways are fitted with heavy gates, which were origi-
nally designed as defense gates in case of attack. The
main buildings within the enclosure are of two stories
and are built of stone. We were not long in being
assigned to the bunks that we were to occupy during
our stay. These were two decked affairs with a
mattress of slats about two inches apart to sleep on.
They were about as uncomfortable as anyone can
imagine and most of the boys preferred to sleep on
the floor. These barracks had been occupied by many
American boys who had gone before us. We saw thou-
sands of American names written on the walls, and
occasionally we would run across one that we knew.
And, like the other, we too wrote our names, for the
hoys who followed to read and comment upon.
Our meal for the first night at the barracks consisted
;>f the rations we had been given upon leaving the
ship — bully beef, sour bread and cheese. Our cooks got
their fires started and gave us some coffee, which stimu-
lated us after our long and tiresome march.
After eating, we were permitted to write to our folks
at home, and all of us spent the evening in correspond-
ence. We were not permitted to write while on board
ship, so most of us had several letters to send. I wrote
until 11 o'clock that night. I was* surprised to find that
it was not yet dark. The long and appreciated twilight
is due to the fact that Brest is a great distance farther
north than Sacramento, and this was in the middle of
summer, when the evenings are longest.
Not all of the buildings within the walls at the
barracks are of ancient construction. Several were re-
cently built, such as a hospital, a bath house for the
accommodation of our men, the Y. M. C. A. hut, etc. At
this particular place the "Y" hut was appreciated by us
Fourteen
because it afforded us amusement, we could buy fruit,
cakes, tobacco and other articles there, and we could
attend to our correspondence there. We were assem-
bled there on one occasion to hear two addresses on
the ways and habits of the French people, which were
to benefit us. We also exchanged our American money
at the hut for French money. For a dollar we received
five francs and seventy centimes, and it was amusing
to see the boys studying over the French money sys-
tem, as it was difficult to understand at first. Some of
the boys, not knowing the value of the French franc,
paid enormous prices for fruits, candies, etc., to French
women and girls, who peddled these articles.
While at the Napoleon Barracks we saw the first
American wounded. They were soldiers who had par-
ticipated in the defense against the German drive which
began in March, 1918. It was from them that we first
learned the real horrors of war. Some had only one
arm; others had lost a leg; still others were suffering
from shell shock. Those who were suffering from shell
shock were the most pitiful, as the least unusual noise
startled them.
I had the good fortune to be placed on a motor truck
detail during three days of our brief stay at Brest.
This gave me an opportunity of seeing most of the city.
It has about 120,000 inhabitants, is one of the chief ports
of France and has a harbor that is protected by nature
as well as by strong fortifications. Lying as it does,
among the hills, there is much natural beauty in the city
and its surroundings. The streets are about as wide as
those of the average American city, although there are a
number of very narrow streets that cut into the main
thoroughfares at angles and these reminded me some-
what of the narrow .streets of Boston. The city is kept
clean and there are numerous parks and public squares.
The latter are frequented mostly by women and chil-
Fifteen
dren, though it is not uncommon to see French soldiers,
home from the front on leave, lounging in them. The
warm blooded French people have ideas that differ
widely from those of Americans in many respects, and
it is nothing unusual to see a French couple making
love in broad daylight with persons passing by on all
sides, in one of these public parks. Occasionally one
would see an American soldier sitting with a French
Madamoiselle. French troops were often drilling in
these squares — not troops that had participated in the
war, but companies of younger men who were being
trained for war. It was interesting to watch them and
to contrast their manoevuers with ours.
There are no skyscrapers in Brest, that is to say, there
are no tall office buildings there, although the city is
an important business point. The only tall structures
are the churches and an old castle, dating from the
thirteenth century. The business buildings are all of
two or three stories. The stores are not as up to date
as the retail establishments in America, and the methods
of doing business are entirely different from ours.
Goods are not on display in the open as they are in
American stores, but are kept in show cases. If you
are interested in a certain piece of goods, the clerk
takes it out of the show case and exhibits it to you.
If you do not buy it, the article is placed right back in
the show case. The clerks are mostly girls. They are
plainly dressed but always neat. Most of them wear
black. They are by no means as well dressed as Ameri-
can girls who work in stores. The French store em-
ployes are very poorly paid, the average wage for a
clerk being two and a half francs, or about 50 cents in
American money a day.
During the war, Brest was very much of a cosmo-
politan city. On the streets most any day could be seen
the uniforms of the soldiers and sailors of all the
Sixteen
Allied nations — French, British, Italian, Portuguese,
American and others. The uniforms of the different
nations are of different hues and they gave a tinge of
color to the crowds on the streets. They ranged from
spotless white to faded blues. The uniforms of the
Italian soldiers, in my opinion, were the most attractive.
They were a pretty gray, well made and attractive in
design. The uniform of the American soldier, while not
the prettiest, is the most serviceable. For war use it
is no doubt the best. The British wear uniforms very
much like ours, although a little different in shade and
design. They are serviceable and neat but not attrac-
tive. The coat has a small lapel and large brass buttons
that are always well shined. The home guards of the
French army wore flashy coats and trousers. The
trousers were either blue with a broad red stripe or red
with a blue stripe.
I regret that our brief stay in Brest did not give me
a better opportunity to see the mediaeval churches and
castles in the vicinity. But war is serious business with
no time for sightseeing and on the third night after
our arrival, we received our orders to march at 4 o'clock
the following morning. It was a restless night for we
knew that every day from now on would take us nearer
to the front and to the fight. At 3:30 o'clock on the
morning of our departure we were all up and dressed
and were packing our belongings. We came to com-
pany front promptly at 4 o'clock, just as the dawn was
breaking; in a very few minutes we were marching
out of the historic Napoleon Barracks never to see them
again. The morning was cool and crisp; it was con-
ducive to lively marching and we stepped along at a
fast clip, passing three companies of infantry on the
way to Brest. The march was an eight mile "hike" and
we made it without a stop until we reached the railroad
yards at Brest. We were then assigned to compart-
Seventeen
merits in French railroad coaches. Most of them were
second and third class coaches, although there were a
few first class cars for the officers. There were five
compartments to a car and eight men were assigned
to each compartment ; as we also had to make room
for our luggage, we were crowded and uncomfortable.
However, we made the best of the unpleasant condi-
tions, and patiently awaited the starting of the train,
which was to take us through a country new and
strange to us, and nearer to the war zone.
CHAPTER III.
From Brest to Langres
Before our train pulled out of Brest we were ordered
out of our crowded compartments in the French railroad
coaches for the purpose of bringing in traveling rations.
These consisted of canned bully beef, canned jam, can-
ned beans and bread. The bread that was given to us
here was made into enormous loaves — the largest that
any of us had ever seen. The loaves were sixteen or
eighteen inches wide, from two and a half to three feet
long and eight or nine inches high. They were Ameri-
can-made and were white and wholesome. The outside
crust was hard but palatable and the inside was soft and
flaky like home-made bread. We afterwards learned that
these loaves had been baked weeks in advance and that
they were kept fresh and palatable by the use of a
chemical. Each compartment of eight men was given
three of these large loaves which, together with a num-
ber of cans of beans, bully beef and jam, were to keep
us supplied with food until we reached Langres, in east-
ern France, which was our destination. We had prev-
iously learned — on our trip overseas — to conserve food,
and none of this supply was wasted. We stored it
away in our cramped quarters and saw that it got
proper care.
Eighteen
As we sat in the train waiting for it to start, we look-
ed out upon the bay of Brest and saw numerous tugs
busy along the waterfront. They were all engaged in
war work of some kind. We also saw more American
troops being landed at the wharf, just as we were landed
a few days previous, and we knew their thoughts a^nd
feelings. In the air there were several airplanes and
dirigible balloons giving needed protection to the ships
that were entering the harbor.
While we were still in the yards of Brest, we also saw
for the first time in France, numerous Chinese coolies,
who were doing with their labor their part toward win-
ning the war. They worked on the railroad tracks in
large gangs. To the Eastern boys who were not ac-
quainted with this class of Chinese laborers, they were
quite a curiosity, but to the Western boys, the sight
was nothing unusual. The coolies, however, were not
dressed in the customary Chinese clothes, as in Califor-
nia, but were in a garb more like that which American
laborers wear. They had on overalls, loose blouses or
jumpers, heavy leather shoes and straw hats.
We pulled out of Brest about 10 o'clock in the morn-
ing. The train was made up of about twenty-five or
thirty of those small and uncomfortable French coaches,
and it moved very slowly. To one used to the fast first-
class American trains, this French train seemed ex-
ceedingly slow, unaccommodating and tiresome. We
first climbed gradually up the hills, overlooking the
bay, and were furnished with a wonderful view. We
could see far out to sea, and were in part compensated
for the lack of comforts to which an American is ac-
customed when traveling, by the beauty of the scenery,
and the many strange and interesting sights that were
constantly meeting our eyes.
Soon after we left the ocean we came to a fertile
farming section, in which crops of various kinds, such
as grains, fruits, garden truck, etc., were grown. We
Nineteen
had known that the farms in European countries are
small, especially those of France, as compared with
farms in America, but it was necessary for us to see
the actual size of these small farms to realize how
diminutive they are. As in the vicinity of Brest, men-
tioned in a previous chapter, the cultivated areas ranged
in size from a half acre to two and a half acres. Rarely
we would see a place as large as five acres, but that
was the exception. No fences separated these farms,
but the boundaries were marked by hedges and occa-
sionally a low stone wall. In these small fields culti-
vation is not practiced as in this country, but the land
is tilled in narrow strips. The numerous different tex-
tures of the soil, accounted for the large number of
strips. Each strip was planted to a crop to which it
was best suited.
The highways through this farming section are kept
in excellent condition. They are built of rock and
give the impression from the train window that a motor
trip through France would be a delight. Rows of trees
are planted along all the highways, the poplar tree
predominating, but other trees being used frequently as
well. The by-roads are of dirt but appear to be kept in
good condition. They also have trees planted along
them; this seems to be a characteristic of France, and
readers will recall that in all war pictures where these
roads have been shown, the rows of trees are always
there. This is an excellent feature and one that Cali-
fornia with its rapidly increasing mileage of concrete
roads, might well follow.
Very few automobiles were seen on these highways,
except those engaged in war transportation. Of course
at the time that I made my observations, the country
was engaged in war, and in peace times no doubt more
automobiles belonging to civilians are in use. It is a
fact, however, there are comparatively few automobiles
among the civil population of France. Only the very
Twenty
rich own them. The masses of the people do not possess
them, as in America. The civil population either walk
along these highways or travel in horse-drawn carts
and wagons. The carts are different from any that we
see in America. Frequently they are heavily constructed
with wheels of from six to eight feet in diameter. They
are fitted with brakes, which are used on the grades.
They have a long body, that is, long for a cart, and this
is laden with the varied products of the small farms
which are in this way taken to market. Most frequently
these carts are drawn by one horse, though it is not
unusual to see two or three horses hitched to one when
the load is heavy. When more than one horse is used,
the animals are not hitched abreast, but tandem. The
wheel horse is hitched between two long heavy shafts
and his duty seems to be largely that of steering the
unwieldy conveyance, while the front horse or horses
do most of the pulling. The harness is heavy and the
rear horse is protected from sores that might be caused
by rubbing, by a heavy and well padded saddle and a
heavy girth. It was a common sight to see a woman
driving one of these carts and guiding the wheel horse
and handling the brakes, while boys were either driv-
ing or leading the leaders. These strange and cumber-
some rigs, so different from any that we had ever seen
before, interested and amused us.
The crops in the section through which we passed on
our first day out of Brest appeared to be good. They
gave me, a Californian with considerable farming ex-
perience, the impression that agriculture has been very
carefully studied by the French. Occasionally we would
see small tracts lying fallow, apparently to give the land
a needed rest, while other tracts were being cultivated.
On some of the small farms it was haying season. We
were surprised as we noted the methods of the French
farmer in this particular branch of husbandry. The hay
was cut mostly by women and children with scythes.
Twenty-one
An American mower probably had never been seen there.
It seemed like a tremendous waste of human energy to
see these women and children doing such hard manual
labor in the field, when a modern mower would cut
the entire field in a very short time. It seems to me
there should be a field for the sale of American mowers
and other modern American farm machinery in the rural
districts of France. While the farms are so small that
the individual farmer could not, perhaps, afford to buy
a mower, still, several farmers could go in together
and buy one, or the community as a whole could buy
one, for the common use of all who needed it. Here is
something that the French and American Governments
might get together on, for surely the French want to
conserve the energy of their women and children who
now do this hard work, and the Americans want a
wider market for their modern farm equipment. It must
be said, however, that the women of the French peas-
antry who were doing this hard work, appeared strong
and healthful, and were enured to this difficult labor, no
doubt, through many generations of this hard farm life.
We noticed as we got away from the coast, that there
was a change in the style of dress of the peasants. We
no longer saw the round hats with the ribbon streamers
hanging down behind, so familiar in the rural districts
around Brest. The dress of the peasants, farther in the
interior, was more like that of the laboring classes of
America. The men and women both wore serviceable
clothes of dark material, but few of them wore anything
on their heads. Sabots were worn instead of leather
shoes. The women wore a sort of an Arctic sock over
the stockings ; the men frequently wore no socks at all.
Occasionally the sabots would be several sizes too large
for the wearer, but were made to fit by stuffing straw
in them. This must have been rather uncomfortable,
but the French peasantry seemed not to mind it at all.
While the horse is the principal draft animal in France,
Twenty-two
oxen are also used by some farmers. Most Western
boys have seen teams of oxen, as they are still in use
in some of the mountain districts of California, or at
least they were still in use up to a few years ago; but
to the Eastern boys an ox team was a new and inter-
esting sight, and there was much comment upon it.
The first large city at which we stopped after leaving
Brest was Nantes. This is a popular and ancient city,
famous for the edict of Nantes, and more famous still,
perhaps, because of the revocation of that edict by Louis
XIV, which led to disastrous religious wars. Nantes is
also famous as the birthplace of Jules Verne, whose
"Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," became an
actuality during the world war. It is a city of about
150,000 and is an important industrial center, having ex-
tensive shipyards, factories, wharves, etc. It is on the
right bank of the Loire River, about thirty-five miles
from its mouth and is one of the chief ports of entry
of France.
Nantes has a very interesting history and it contains
many ancient and famous edifices. It was not our priv-
ilege, however, to see any more of the city than the
views afforded from the train, for we stopped here but
a short time. It was there that we got our first taste of
French coffee, which is very different from that made
and served in America. It was furnished to us by the
French Government. At first it was distasteful to us,
but after drinking it a few times we became used to it
and later on we really liked it.
We were now in the rich valley of the Loire, one of
the most productive and one of the most famous in
France. It is not nearly so large as the Sacramento Val-
ley, in California, nor as fertile, yet its fame extends
around the world. It is drained by the Loire River,
which is the longest river in France, being more than
600 miles in length, and being navigable for ships as far
Twenty-three
as Nantes and for river boats for more than five hun-
dred miles of its length.
In the valley of the Loire we began to see the beauti-
ful vineyards of France. In this district the farms as a
rule were a little larger than those we saw on our way
from Brest to Nantes, and consequently the hedges were
less numerous. It was an exceedingly picturesque scene
that met our eyes as we rolled along in the slow train.
One noticeable fact was that each little vineyard was of
a different shade of green from that of its nearest
neighbors, due perhaps, to a different variety of plant,
or to a variation of soil. There seemed to be no two
of just the same shade. It was also in the Valley of the
Loire that we saw considerable fruit production.
Orchards were more numerous here than on the coast.
They were planted to most of the deciduous trees with
which we of California are familiar, although prunes
seemed to predominate.
While we were traveling through this valley we were
greeted with some familiar sights and sounds. These
were the American box car and locomotive and the
sound of the whistle of a U. S. A. train. We greeted
the American rolling stock as companions, and were
truely glad to see them. We could easily distinguish
between the sound of the whistle of an American loco-
motive and that of a French engine, the American whis-
tle being deep and the French shrill. It may seem strange
to think that I comment upon such a small matter as a
locomotive whistle, but when one is in a foreign land,
amid foreign scenes and sounds, a familiar sound is
good to hear, even though it is as unmusical as a deep
blast of an American-made locomotive.
Our next stop at a place of importance was at Tours —
historic Tours. This is a city of more than 100,000 inhab-
itants and is one of the most interesting cities in France.
I spent several weeks here in a hospital after being
Twenty -four
gassed on the Metz front and I will speak in more de-
tail of this city in a later chapter.
At Tours we were given more freedom than at any
previous stop, and here our officers bought chocolates,
tobacco and fruit and distributed them among the men.
These dainties were the first we had since leaving Brest
and were surely appreciated.
After leaving Tours we continued to wind through the
Valley of the Loire along the Loire River, and I must
say that the vineyards and orchards between Tours and
Orleans, our next stop, were the prettiest that I saw
in all of France. In this particular part of the valley the
trees and vines are exceedingly prolific, as compared
with trees and vines in other parts of France. They are
not, however, as prolific as those of California. The
trees do not attain as large a growth as those of this
State and the vines are less vigorous. The fruit is
neither as large nor does it have the quality of ours.
The 1918 fruit crop was a large one, as measured by
French standards, but yield per acre, I am sure, would
be small as compared with the yield per acre of a first
class Sacramento river orchard. The difference of the
quality and the yield as compared with our fruits, is un-
doubtedly due to the fact that for centuries the lands
of the Loire have been cultivated, while our lands are
new and contain all their natural richness. The vine-
yards are planted differently from ours. The vines are
four feet apart one way and eight feet apart another,
while ours are usually planted eight or ten feet apart
each way. Having been reared on a California vineyard,
I was naturally very much interested in the vineyards
of France, and I examined those that I had the oppor-
tunity of visiting very carefully. I inspected some of the
grapes that were pronounced first class by French vine-
yardists, and found them to be very inferior to Califor-
nia grapes. The berries were smaller and they con-
tained less juice.
Twenty -five
The farther we traveled into the interior of France,
the more interested the people became in us. In other
words, the nearer we came to the scene of action, the
greater was the enthusiasm of the French- people over
our arrival. While we excited but small interest in the
small towns on the coast, as we got closer to the front,
there were delegations of women and children at the
station waving to us at every small or large town
through which we passed. Cries of "Vive L'Amerique"
were more frequent, and we had hopes that the per-
sistent "donnez moi" would be heard less frequently,
but it was not. We never ceased hearing it as long as
there were French children around.
We arrived at Orleans late in the evening of the third
day of our trip, and here we received a very hearty wel-
come from the American Red Cross, as we did at Tours.
The station at Orleans was more like an American sta-
tion than any that we had yet seen in France. It was
large and equipped with several tracks, as are most
American stations. Orleans is full of interest, but we
were not permitted to stop there long. We continued
on our journey all night and the next day were out of
the Valley of the Loire and into a hilly section. While
the scenery was attractive, there were fewer cultivated
areas and the soil was less productive. We now began
to see more of the American war activities in France.
We saw tented cities that had been built for troops in
record time ; we saw camps where American soldiers were
being drilled; and we saw great quantities of American
implements of war such as airplanes, ammunition, light
and heavy artillery, etc. In this region we also passed
three hospital trains coming from the front with Ameri-
can soldiers who had been wounded, and we knew we
were getting very near the fighting. We also noticed a
decided difference in the French inhabitants. We de-
tected a deeper interest in the war among these people
who were so near the battle line than in those farther
Twenty-six
away, and we noted that not a young man was to be
seen among the civilians in eastern France — they were
all at the front fighting to save their homes from the
ruthless Hun.
At 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the fourth day after
we had left Brest, we arrived at Langres, which was
our destination, so far as train travel was concerned.
It was a great relief to leave those crowded compart-
ments in that uncomfortable train. The distance from
Brest to Langres by the route we traveled probably
does not exceed six hundred miles, yet it took us four
days and three nights to make the distance. A first
class American train would cover the same distance in
about sixteen hours. At times our train moved so slow-
ly that a man could get out and keep up with it by run-
ning along the side. There were no conveniences on the
train, such as American travelers are accustomed to.
For instance, there were no toilets, and the train would
stop every three or four hours at some small station
where latrines were provided for our use. No one knows
how miserable we were on this trip, and the only thing
that kept the boys from complaining was the fact that
the country was new to us and strange sights and scenes
made us forget our discomfort. Still, we did not have
things as bad as some of the American boys, who were
compelled to travel across France in box cars.
We were all glad to stretch our legs at Langres, and
after we were given a little refreshing exercise, we were
loaded on motor trucks and taken to our barracks,
located in a stone building formerly used as a convent.
The city of Langres is beautifully situated. It is on
a hill that rises from a plateau. It is a city of great
antiquity, dating from the time of the Romans. There
can be no doubt but that its original location was se-
lected because of its strategic position, as it is on the
summit of a ridge and commands the situation in every
direction. In mediaeval times it was a stronghold for
Twenty- seven
the feudal lords and in modern times it is still of im-
portance as a fortress. The city is surrounded by a de-
fense wall, built hundreds of years ago, and around the
outside of the wall was a moat, wide and deep. In
feudal days this moat was part of the defense works
and it was kept filled with water. It was dry when we
visited and has been so for many years, as a moat would
be but as slight obstructure in modern warfare. But it
made the city well nigh impregnable in the mediaeval
days before gunpowder was invented and when most
fighting was of the hand to hand kind. We entered
the city through an arched gate and crossed the moat on
a bridge which could be drawn up in case of attack. At
present the gate is always kept lowered, but it could be
drawn up if necessary. It was easy to picture in the
mind's eye as we looked at these relics of former days,
the feudal barons of the age of chivalry, sallying forth
from this ancient stronghold on their steeds to make
war or to plunder and prepared to retreat behind this
moat and wall where they would be safe in the event
that they were opposed by superior forces. I could not
but think, as I stood upon this historic ground, that we
ourselves were making history and that the fight that
we were then preparing to make, while less romantic
than the skirmishes of the feudal barons, was vastly
more important to the welfare of the world.
Situated as it is upon an eminence, a view that is be-
yond description is to be obtained from Langres. From
the ramparts one may see the upper valley of the Marne
with its checkerboard of farms of various hues; the
Yosges ; and on a clear day the white peak of Mont
Blanc, one hundred and sixty miles distant.
In strong contrast with the way in which ancient war-
riors entered Langres, we were loaded onto motor
trucks and taken up the steep and winding way that
led to the gates of the city by means of the most mod-
ern way of transportation. Our eyes were fastened on
Twenty-eight
the oddities of this strangely interesting city as we
wound through the streets, some of which were nar-
row, others wide, past well kept parks and buildings
older than most of the modern governments, and we
were filled with a sort of reverence for this historic
spot as we took our places in the barracks made ready
for us.
CHAPTER IV
Nearing the Front
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 tne 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
Twenty-nine
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 acrosstheentireupper
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; there-
after, 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
Thirty
assigned to various kinds of work at Langres. I was
given a motor truck to drive. It was in very poor con-
dition 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 sur-
rounded 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
Thirty-one
two or three o'clock in the morning. Our daily routine
was as follows: Arise at 5 o'clock; breakfast at 6; calis-
thenics and manual of arms drill from 6:30 to 7:30; in-
struction 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 micro-
phone, sizorscope, horoscope, perpendicular and hori-
zontal range finder, elongated three-power French
binocular, instruments for determining the height of
airplanes, etc. We had to acquire a practical knowl-
edge 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 con-
ditions; 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 under-
stood 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
Thirty-two
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 camou-
flage. 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 war-
fare 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 effi-
cient 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
Thirty-three
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
Thirty-four
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 re-
ceived 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 dart-
ing back and forth at various heights. We were anxious
to see an airplane battle, but none took place on that
Thirty-five
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 un-
foreseen 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 Ameri-
can 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,
o n ly 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.
Thirty-six
CHAPTER V.
Preparation for Battle
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 defin-
itely 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 employ-
ment 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 Ameri-
can 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 to-
ward 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.
Thirty- seven
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 ob-
servation 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, accord-
ing to the terrain. With our strong glasses, we could
get an excellent view of everything that Fritz did in
this part of the line.
Thirty-eight
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, rail-
roads, 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 particu-
larly 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 with-
out 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
Thirty-nine
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 prepar-
ing for the great St. Mihiel drive, that wonderful in-
dependent 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 propor-
tional 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 instruc-
tions 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.
Forty
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 com-
bined 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.
Forty- one
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.
CHAPTER VI
The Great St. Mihiel Drive
It was exactly at 12 :01 o'clock on the morning of Sep-
tember 12th, when the great St. Mihiel drive began, and
when all the preparation of which I told in the preced-
ing 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 con-
ception 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
Forty -two
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 dis-
play, something like elaborate Fourth of July fireworks,
but multiplied by millions in intensity. The heavy artil-
lery 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
Forty-three
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 sur-
vived 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 of-
fensive. 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 bar-
rage stopped, and it was followed by a protecting bar-
rage. There is quite a difference between a demoraliz-
ing 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 in-
fantry 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
Forty-four
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 dan-
ger 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
Forty-five
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 de-
stroyed — 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 con-
stantly 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 air-
men, 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 corn-
Forty- six
munication 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 fre-
quently 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 re-
sourceful 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
Forty-seven
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 thorough-
ness 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 de-
stroyed. 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
Forty-eight
dumps that had been hit and set afire and which
burned steadily for several days. These were exceed-
ingly 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 at-
tacked during the night, but his charges were finally
broken up by our accurate fire.
Our advance that day had been rapid and had pene-
trated deeply into the enemy line. This had been pos-
sible 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 be-
cause 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,
Forty-nine
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 at-
tack and of being shelled by the enemy, and the sen-
sation 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 par-
ticipated. 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 thrill-
ing sight I ever witnessed, and I cannot imagine any-
thing 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
Fifty
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 in-
specting 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 ma-
chine. 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 de-
parted 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 sev-
eral occasions, but each time they sent the Huns flying
to the rear with heavy losses. In hand to hand fight-
ing, such as often resulted when counter attacks were
lodged, the Germans were no match for the Americans,
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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 pro-
tection 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 Ger-
man artillery. It was a sad sight that met our eyes
the morning when we saw the losses that we had
suffered during the night.
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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. Noth-
ing 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
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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 con-
siderably, 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.
CHAPTER VII
Gassed
One of the happiest days that I experienced during the
period that I was at war was on Friday, September 20,
1918. On this day, after having made several visits to
our new posts in the tront line, I came back to our
billet, where, to my delight and surprise, I found eight
letters from home awaiting me. No one knows the
joy that a letter from home gives to a soldier on the
firing line. It is like taking him out of hell and placing
him back on earth again. For several days we had
been in the very thickest of the fight, facing death at
every minute, seeing our companions fall around us,
doing everything we possibly could to help our side
win, and willing to go back and do it all over again
without complaint — and then to get these welcome
letters from dear ones 9,000 miles away right in the
midst of it all. Is it any wonder that on such occasions
we frequently gave way to our emotions?
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The letters that I received were enjoyed not only by
me, but by my companion, McKinley Johnston, as well,
as he knew all of my people and was as familiar as I
was with the things that they wrote about. It is a
peculiar circumstance, but it is a fact, nevertheless,
that all of the boys, even those who did not know my
folks and who came from other States than California,
were interested in these letters. They were news from
home and that is what all the boys were craving. They
wanted to read anything that came from America. So,
after reading the letters, I passed them all around and
every boy in the camp read them. After getting the
letters back, I read them over several times. Several
of them contained photographs of familiar scenes and
faces, and it seemed good to look upon them again,
for no one knew but that it might be the last time we
would see them. I thought it would be a nice thing to
sit right down and write, after reading these letters, but
when I attempted it, I was so overcome with emotion
caused by thoughts of those who were near and dear
to me, that I was unable to give expression to my
thoughts.
The position of the American troops at this time was
not favorable. The enemy held the commanding ground,
and was concealed in woods, while our troops were out
in the open. The Boche could see what we were doing
while we were unable to detect his moves. This dis-
advantage, you might well know, would not long be
tolerated by Americans. We wanted the commanding
ground and we wanted to put Fritz in the open. So
on Monday, September 23rd, we gave Fritz a three-
hour barrage and it was a hot one. By the time the
barrage started, all our light artillery had been brought
up and put in place, and we were able to rain shells
from the famous 75's upon the enemy in torrents. This
barrage was for the purpose of breaking up the morale
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of the Germans. We were counter-barraged by the
Huns, and for a time they made it hot for us. But our
superiority began to show after about an hour's firing.
The men in the Flash Division worked hard to give our
gunners the correct location of the German batteries.
We worked hard and fast and the accuracy of our
effort was shown by the silencing of the German guns.
One by one they ceased firing, as the American artillery,
with the data we supplied them, dropped shells on the
Hun batteries.
It was just about 5 :45 in the morning when our ar-
tillery ceased firing and our boys advanced again. This
time our objectives were only about two kilometers in
back of the German front trenches. We met with
stubborn resistance at first, but with the usual Ameri-
can determination and pluck, we soon forced the Boche
back.
It was here that I first saw the German minnewafers
and trench mortars at work. The shells thrown from
the minnewafers are as much feared as any German
weapon of war. They are thrown from a large gun
with a smooth bore and short barrel. The projectile is
shaped like a rolling pin, though it is much larger. In
each end, or handle of the shell, is a cap, which ex-
plodes as the handle strikes the ground. As the pro-
jectile somersaults as it travels, one handle or the
other is sure to hit the earth, so there are no "duds"
that I saw among these shells. They explode with a
terrific racket and tear up the earth for a great dis-
tance around the spot where they land. They are not
thrown very high in the air, and are intended for use
in close fighting, that is to say, two or three hundred
yards. As the shells whirl through the air, you can
plainly hear them whistling, and if you look sharply
you can occasionally see them coming. These minne-
wafers and mortars are of various ranges — from three
Fifty -six
and four inches up to twelve and fourteen inches. Aside
from these trench guns, the Germans in this fight also
resisted heavily with machine gun nests and one
pounders.
In going over the top this time, we did not have the
protection that we did when the St. Mihiel drive
started. In other words, we did not have any tanks
or any aerial protection, but had to advance with only
such help as the artillery could give us.
The Germans were well protected and it took clever
work to outwit them. Their machine gun nests were
always cleverly concealed. Many of them were con-
cealed in trees, and it was a common sight to see our
infantrymen advance unseen by the machine gunners,
and then with their rifles, shoot them out of the trees.
I had seen machine gun nests in trees before, but never
so many as this time. Not only were they numerous,
but they were so well provided with ammunition that
they could fire thousands of rounds of shells, if neces-
sary. I have seen long belt? of cartridges hanging to
limbs of trees, all ready for use on the part of the
gunners. I have also seen many of these belts at-
tached together so as to provide an almost endless chain
of cartridges for the gun. Under one tree where there
had been a nest, I saw empty cartridge shells eight
inches deep, which was some shooting for a short
fight such as this was. That machine gun had cer-
tainly done all that could be expected of it.
We gained our objectives at 4 o'clock of the afternoon
of the day the drive started. We were then in the best
possible position, so far as ground is concerned, as it
was possible for us to occupy. We had taken the com-
manding ground from Fritz, and we began digging in so
as to be ready for a counter attack. All during that
night we dug our trenches, making them deep and as
safe as possible. Between 3 and 5 o'clock the next
Fifty-seven
morning, the expected attack came. We experienced
a heavy shelling from the German artillery. Of course,
our light artillery that had been hastily brought up was
not slow in returning the fire. Our barrage was very
accurate and eventually the Huns were silenced.
It was at this time that I was called upon to witness
the greatest horror of war — that of seeing some of my
dearest friends fall from the enemy's fire before my
very eyes. I was working in a post with three other
men. We had been constantly together since the drive
began and our hardships that we had undergone resulted
in a bond of friendship that held us together like
brothers. All three of these men were killed during this
barrage. Two of them were instantly killed and the
third lived but a short time after being hit, dying about
6 o'clock in the morning.
When you consider that we were working in a post
that was not more than twelve feet in diameter, you
may well imagine my feelings as I saw these boys fall.
I fully expected that my turn would come at any minute,
but I kept at work so as to keep my mind off the
greusome surroundings.
The next twenty-four hours were about the worst that
I experienced throughout the war. My post was right
out in front, and I was the only man left in it. Our
communication lines had been badly cut up by German
shells, and I was unable to make a report of the dis-
aster that our post had suffered to headquarters. I
could not leave the post, because I could not leave the
instruments. They were too valuable to be left there
with no one guarding them, and it would not do to
leave any chance of their falling into the hands of the
enemy. So I remained at the post all day. About 7
o'clock in the evening, men from headquarters fixed the
communicating lines and I made my report of the loss
of three men. Help was immediately dispatched to me,
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but, because we were heavily shelled again that night
by the Huns, it was impossible for aid to reach me. It
was not until 4 o'clock the next morning that a detach-
ment reached the post and I was relieved.
A detachment was also sent from headquarters for
the purpose of removing the bodies of my three dead
companions. They were taken back of the lines to a
beautiful spot in the woods, and there they were buried.
Because of the fondness of the men of our detachment
for these and for the further reason that fighting had
slackened up some, we were able to give these men a
little better burial than is accorded most soldiers who fall
on the field of battle. In most cases a grave is dug, the
body wrapped in a blanket and deposited without a
casket and without ceremony. But for these boys, some
of the men in our detachment made boxes to serve as
coffins out of material that we had captured from an
engineering dump. One big grave was dug and the
bodies were laid in it side by side. One of the boys
said a prayer and the graves of these brave lads, way
out there in the woods in France, were covered over.
This is one of the incidents of the war that will never
leave my mind, as two of the boys were among my
dearest friends.
I realize that my escape from death while at that
post was by a narrow margin. It seemed to be the
beginning of a number of miraculous escapes, such as
many soldiers experience. Mine came in such rapid
succession that I began to have a feeling that Fritz
would get me yet. About 11 o'clock at night on the
30th of September I was aroused from my bed in a dug-
out to repair the communication lines, it being part of
the duty of our detachment to keep the lines in working
order when not observing. It wasn't very pleasant, of
course, to get out of bed in the middle of the night,
but this was the luckiest call that I had ever had. I
Fifty-nine
had not been out more than five minutes when Fritz
scored a direct hit with a big shell upon that billet,
destroying everything it in. If I had not been called
out, I would have been killed. Fortunately for our post,
all the other members were on duty at the time, so we
all escaped. But while I escaped with my life, the shell
destroyed all of my personal belongings. This resulted
in my discomfiture for many days, as I will relate. I
had previously captured a pair of German officer's
boots, which I would put on when called out at night,
rather than my regulation army shoes and leggins. On
this night I slipped on these boots, and my army shoes
were torn to shreds. Therefore, I was compelled to
wear the German boots, and they were the most un-
comfortable things that I had ever had on my feet.
Though they were my size, I could not get used to them,
and they burned and blistered my heels so that I could
hardly walk. As we were way out in front, it was
not easy to get new shoes from headquarters. My foot
troubles became so serious that my officer granted me
a day off duty for the purpose of trying to find a pair
of shoes that would fit me. I spent the entire time
in a fruitless search. I found several pairs of shoes that
belonged to boys who had been killed, but they would
not fit me, so finally I had to give it up. I wore those
Boche boots sixteen days, and I had to keep going all
the time with sore and blistered feet. I suffered more
from those German boots than from anything else in
the war.
On October 4th I had another interesting experience
and narrow escape, which was as close as any that I
ever want to experience. I was one of a detail that
was sent after water. We had to go from our dugouts
a distance of about two kilometers. On our way there
we were walking in a gully. Fritz had probably used
that gully for the same purpose himself when he held
Sixty
that ground, and he probably knew that we would be
using it too. At any rate, he had the range to a
nicety. On our way he first dropped a number of gas
shells around us. We hastily put on our masks and
escaped injury. But the gas shells were followed by a
few high explosives. A flying fragment severed the
air tube of my gas mask. This meant immediate death,
unless there was quick action. I had the presence of
mind to take hold of the tube, so as to prevent any
gas from entering my lungs, and then I ran to high
ground. The reason I sought high ground is because
the chlorine gas is heavy and settles in low places and
is not likely to be as thick if high ground can be
reached. I was accompanied by one of the buddies,
who saw my plight and ran to assist me. By a stroke
of luck that seems almost unbelievable, we ran across a
salvage dump on the ridge to which we ran, and there
we found a good gas mask, which I hurriedly slipped
on, and used until a new one was issued to me. As if
to add insult to injury, while I was having trouble with
the mask, I was struck on the shoulder by a piece of
shrapnel. The fragment, however, had about spent its
force, and while I was knocked down by the force of
the blow and suffered from a bruised shoulder for sev-
eral days, the skin was not broken and my injury did
not reach the dignity of a wound.
We proceeded on and got our water, and on our way
back we were shelled again when we were in approxi-
mately the same place. This time one of the men re-
ceived a small scratch from a piece of flying shell. It
just broke the skin between the knee and the thigh,
but was so small that it did not cause any inconven-
ience. Shortly after this, another bit of shrapnel hit
my helmet and knocked it off my head. I gave the boys
cause for a hearty laugh as I scrambled on all fours
after my "tin derby," and no doubt I cut an amusing
Sixty -one
figure. Fritz seemed to be picking on me all day, but
I was glad that I got off so lightly after being exposed
to so much danger.
There is no room for sentiment in the army. Birthdays
usually don't mean much. It just happened, however,
that I had a day off of post on October 6th, and, that
being my birthday, the occasion was made doubly pleas-
ant. But the thing that made the day a perfect one
for me was the fact that when I reached headquar-
ters I found fourteen letters from home. I have
already told how happy I felt when I received eight
letters — well, fourteen made me feel just twice that
happy. They were from relatives and friends and no
gift could have made my birthday more pleasant.
October 16th was another red letter day for me. On
that date I had a detail to pack in supplies, and I had
the great fortune to find a new pair of shoes, just my
size. What a relief to get rid of those uncomfortable
ill-fitting, detestable German boots. If there was one
thing that made me hate Germans worse than anything
else, it was those horrid German boots. The boys said
they were a hoodoo and that if I continued to wear
them Fritz would get me sure. However that may be,
I did not cease to have close calls. The very next day I
got a small sniff of chlorination gas. It happened while
I was fixing communication lines. I did not get enough
to hurt me, but it made me deathly sick. I was unable
to do much for a couple of days, and was taken to head-
quarters, where I was assigned to the duty of fixing
communication lines, which were constantly in danger
of being broken. On October 24th two of us were sent
to repair a break, which we located at 5 o'clock in the
morning. Dawn was just breaking and the place where
we found the break was in the woods. The Germans
had during the night thrown a lot of chlorine gas shells
into this woods, so we donned our masks. The break
Sixty-two
in the line was a difficult one to repair. We soon found
that we could not do it with our gas masks on — one or
the other must take his mask off. We could not return
without making the repair. To a soldier there is no
such word as fail. It is either do or die. The buddy
who was with me was a married man with a baby at
home. I, being unmarried, could certainly not ask him
to take off his mask, while I kept mine on. So I
stripped mine off, made the repair, and while doing so
was gassed severely. With the aid of the buddy, I was
able to reach our billet. There I was put on a stretcher
and taken to a field dressing station. As the old saying
goes, it never rains but it pours; gassing was not the
only trouble I was destined to experience on that day.
As I was being carried to headquarters a shell ex-
ploded nearby and I was struck in the leg by a piece
of shrapnel. It was a small but painful wound just
below the left knee. I tried to accept it with a smile,
and I was really glad that I was struck instead of one
of the other men, as I was already out of the fight,
while if one of them had been wounded, it would have
been two out of commission instead of one.
CHAPTER VIII.
Hospital Experiences.
After being gassed and wounded, I was taken imme-
diately to a dressing station, where the wound in my
leg was carefully, but hurriedly dressed and my throat
was swabbed with a preparation used in all hospitals to
relieve the severe burning in the throat caused by gas.
Of all the unpleasant experiences that I had at war, this
throat swabbing was the worst. It seemed to me like
the surgeon who performed this act had found in my
throat a bottomless pit, and as the swab went up and
down my burning esophagus, I suffered great agony.
Sixty -three
Although I knew this treatment was necessary, if I was
to recover speedily from the gas burns, I could scarcely
endure it.
As soon as the wound in my leg was dressed and my
throat doctored, I was examined as to my physical con-
dition by a Major, who labeled me with a tag upon which
was written, "tuberculosis." This, of course, was very
annoying and caused me considerable worry. It was
certainly not a pleasant word for one to receive when
lying in the condition that I then was. But I afterwards
learned, much to the relief of my mind, that this tag
had been put on me by the Major as a warning to the
next surgeon into whose hands I should fall, against
tuberculosis. In other words, in my condition, it was
necessary to take precautions against the white plague.
I experienced great pains in my throat and lungs
from the gas and seemed to be choking. My strength
was entirely gone, and I was about as miserable as one
could be. I could not utter a sound and any attempt to
speak only increased my pain. I relate these facts about
the agony that I suffered simply to show what a terri-
ble weapon of war this deadly phosgene gas is, and to
emphasize the villainy of the Hun government in using
it after having agreed with other nations years before
not to do so.
I was placed on a cot and made as comfortable as
possible under the circumstances and was awaiting a
motor truck to take me to a base hospital. On all sides
of me were other wounded and gassed boys. Some of
them were exceedingly jolly and talkative, notwith-
standing their pitiable condition. I remember one boy
in particular, who was about my own age. He was going
over on a raid and was shot through the temple. The
bullet entered on one side an inch or two above the
eye, and went straight through, passing out the other
side at about the same distance above the eye. It passed
through apparently, without striking the brain, and the
Sixty-four
boy was fully conscious while the wound was dressed
and seemed to be quite jolly. I watched the surgeon
shave both sides of his head around the wound to pre-
vent infection, and then carefully dress his head, with-
out administering any anesthetic. I marveled at the
boy's condition, with such a nasty wound, but what sur-
prised me still more was several months later when I
was on board ship on my way home, there was this
same boy with his wound entirely healed. Two little
white scars, one on each temple, were the only marks
that told of his awful experience.
From the dressing station I was taken to a field hos-
pital, about fifteen kilometers to the rear, and there
placed in a ward in a tent. The purpose of the field
hospital is to treat soldiers who are too severely wound-
ed to be taken to base hospitals. My wound was again
examined, cleaned and dressed and again the terrible
swab went its depth. About 4 o'clock that afternoon I
was loaded into another stretcher on an ambulance and
taken to Base Hospital 51 at Toul. The distance from
the field hospital to Toul was about twenty-five kilo-
meters and we did not reach there until about 9 o'clock
that night. The trip was a rough one, and I suffered
greatly. I positively believe my recovery would have
been much faster, had I not been transferred so hastily
to this hospital. I was placed in a ward in a large hos-
pital built of stone. In this hospital the wounded men
were classified in accordance with the nature of their
wounds. I was not long in this hospital when a nurse
took charge of me, and again, I received that awful
swab. Each time it seemed worse than before and how
I dreaded the time when it was to be given again I But
much to my surprise and pleasure, my treatment was
changed at this hospital. My chest and throat were
massaged by the nurse with an oil that brought me im-
mediate relief. This nurse continued this treatment sev-
eral times a day and night and I began to feel a little
Sixty-five
better. All this time, however, I was unable to utter a
word, and I began to wonder whether or not my speech
was permanently injured. In my predicament, however,
I soon learned the sign language. It is remarkable how
well a man can make himself understood merely by the
use of his hands. I had no trouble at all in making my
wants known. I was in the base hospital at Toul for
fourteen days and all of that time I coughed up great
chunks of solid matter and mouthfuls of blood, as the
result of the burning that I had received. After the
seventh day, the nurse stopped the use of the swab,
much to my delight, but continued the more appreciated
massage.
On the morning of my fifteenth day at this hospital,
I was able to make my wants known by a faint whisper,
and on that day I was transferred to another hospital.
I was placed in a motor car and taken to the railroad
station, about half a mile distant and there loaded on to
a French hospital train, our destination being Tours.
Before the train pulled out of the station, American
Red Cross workers, always in evidence in every city in
France, came and made us as comfortable as possible.
They gave us coffee and doughnuts, hot chocolate and
cigarettes, and their kindness was greatly appreciated
by all the wounded on that train.
All the members of the crew of the train were French,
and there was also several French surgeons aboard.
They all showed much interest in the American troops.
They asked us many questions about America and the
American people. The fighting qualities of our boys
were highly praised by them. The members of the crew
in particular were interested about working conditions
in America, and were anxious to know whether or not
they would have any difficulty in getting work if they
came to this country. They showed plainly that they
had been so favorably impressed by Americans in
Sixty-six
France that they had a longing to become a part of
this great nation.
It took us a day and a night to reach Tours. The
journey was a tiresome one and we were glad when
the train finally stopped at Tours. Again we were put
on motor ambulances and taken to Base Hospital 7,
in the suburbs of the city. We were immediately given
a physical examination, and all our personal effects, in-
cluding our clothes, were taken from us, except a few
toilet articles. We were then given a bath robe, a towel
and soap and taken to a warm shower. It was with
great delight that we got under that shower and enjoyed
a thorough bath. The showers were of American make
and were built large enough so that twenty-five or thirty
men could take a bath at a time. After the shower we
were given a solution to rub on our bodies for the pur-
pose of killing the cooties. The time had come, I am
glad to say, when we and the cooties, must forever part.
But the cootie in the front line trenches was not alto-
gether an enemy. That may sound strange, but the fact
is, when we were fighting the cooties and chasing them
out of our dug-outs, our minds were not on our more
serious troubles and we were unmindful of the dangers
that surrounded us. So there were times when the coot-
ies were really friends and they kept our minds and
hands occupied.
After the bath, we were taken back to the ward and
were not allowed to have any clothes for three days.
This was probably so there would be no chance of a
stray cootie getting into our new outfit. When three
days had elapsed, however, we were given slips, which
we filled out in accordance with our needs. When I got
back into a uniform, life at the hospital was more pleas-
ant. With the aid of crutches I was able to move around
a little and to enjoy the company of other boys. The
time was spent in playing cards, light conversation, and
Sixty-seven
other amusements. We kept our minds off our rough
experiences at the front.
I had an unusually pleasant experience soon after I
was at Tours. A Red Cross nurse came to our ward
to take orders for our small wants, such as candy, cigar-
ettes, tobacco, writing paper and such articles. She
spoke a few words to me and then passed on. It was
the first time I had spoken to an American girl since
leaving the United States. A few minutes later one of
the boys told me she was from the West and then one
said he thought she was from California. I could not
wait until she came to bring our supplies, but immediate-
ly started out to look her up, so anxious was I to see
and talk with a Californian. I found her and told her
I was from California and that I had heard that she
was from that State, too. To my great pleasure and sur-
prise, I learned that she was from Sacramento, my home
town, and that she was acquainted with my folks and
knew of me. Her name is Miss Mae Forbes, and after
her patriotic work in France, she is home again in Sac-
ramento. One must experience the delight of meeting a
charming young woman from his own town, in far-off
France, and under the circumstances that I did, to appre-
ciate my feelings at this time. It is an experience that
I will always remember as one of the most happy of
my life. It was only a few days later that I made my
way, without the aid of crutches this time, to the Ameri-
can Red Cross station where I again met Miss Forbes
and had a long and pleasant chat with her about Califor-
nia. Miss Forbes introduced me to the other members
of the station, and from that time until I left Tours, it
was like my home. I spent many a pleasant hour there
and its memories will always be dear to me.
I was in the hospital at Tours on November 11th, when
the armistice was signed. There was a great commotion
in my ward when we first learned the news. Most of
the boys were glad that the war was over and that the
Sixty-eight
lives of so many boys still at the front had been spared.
Others said they hoped the end had not come so sudden-
ly, as they were anxious to recover and get back into the
front line to take another crack at the despicable Huns.
At this time I was gaining strength rapidly and was
able to get around fairly well. I was given a pass out of
the hospital, and with two other boys who were fairly
strong, we went into the business district of Tours to
witness the celebration. It was like a great city gone
mad. The streets were crowded with civilians, and
everybody was waving flags. Most people had a French
flag in one hand, and the flag of one of the Allied na-
tions in the other. The American flag predominated
above all other Allied flags ; in fact, the people of Tours
seemed to be very partial to America. "Vive rAmerique"
they shouted, "La guerre est fini." They are very emo-
tional and demonstrative. They lined the sidewalks of
the business streets, waving their flags and shouting in
their native tongue, while an American Marine Band
playing patriotic music, marched up one street and down
another. It was a general holiday and no business was
done that day, and but very little for several days there-
after. All American soldiers in the city were lionized.
When a group of enthusiastic Frenchmen would get hold
of a buddy, they would insist on taking him to a cafe
and buying the most expensive of wines. If we could
have conserved all the liquor the French were willing
to buy for us that day, dry America would not worry us.
I was seated on a bench in one of the parks watching
the demonstration and contrasting it with the probable
demonstrations in American cities on that day, when
two flags, one French and the other American, dropped
over my shoulders. I straightened up and the next thing
I knew I was strongly clasped in the arms of a beautiful
young French girl, elegantly dressed and bewitchingly
charming. She kissed me fervently on each cheek. The
sensation was pleasant, but it was rather embarrassing
Sixty-nine
inasmuch as it was in full view of hundreds of people
who were celebrating. If the shades of evening had been
falling, the spot more secluded and the number reduced
to two, it would have been more to my American tastes.
However, I arose, conscious that I was blushing, and
offered the beauty my hand. She could scarcely speak a
word of English and I scarcely a word of French, but
we managed to make each other understand that it was
a pleasurable greeting. She was soon on her way joy-
fully waving her flags, and I — well, I charged myself up
with a lost opportunity for not being more proficient in
the polite use of the French language.
We remained in the city until 9:30 that evening, and
the people were still celebrating. And they kept it up
for several days and several nights, so great was their
joy in knowing that the war was over and that the
enemy had been crushed.
My stay in Tours gave me some opportunity of
seeing this ancient city. Tours lies in the heart of the
Loire Valley, which is the garden of France. It is 145
miles southwest of Paris by rail and is on the left bank
of the Loire River. It is an exceedingly old city and
has an interesting history. There are numerous castles
and chateaux in the vicinity, which in peace times are
visited annually by thousands of tourists. It contains a
number of ancient buildings of interest. In normal
times it is no doubt one of the most interesting cities in
France.
The hospital in which I was treated was a very large
one, in fact, it was a great institution of many buildings.
It contained forty-five wards of fifty cots each. It
covered a large area and had every comfort for the men,
such as a motion picture house, library, reading room, etc.
After I had been there about five weeks and had
regained much of my physical strength, the authorities
in charge began to classify the boys, either for further
duty, or for shipment home. All were anxious to be put
Seventy
in class D, which meant the United States — God's coun-
try. Nobody wanted class A, which meant further duty
with the army of occupation, and another year at least
in Europe. It seemed very much like a lottery, as the
boys who were able to do so, walked up and received
their classification. I was exceedingly happy when I
was given class D, which meant that nothing would stop
me from seeing "home and mother."
After being classified, we were notified to make our-
selves ready for a trip to the coast. Although we were
not told that we were going home, we knew that the
good old U. S. A. was our ultimate destination. So I
received a pass and made my last visit to the business
district of Tours for the purpose of purchasing some
souvenirs of France for the women folks at home. The
men I had already remembered with rings, made during
my convalescing days at the hospital out of French two-
franc pieces. I might add that ring making was a favor-
ite occupation of the patients and we spent many pleas-
ant moments working them out sitting on our cots,
while a group of interested buddies would sit around
and watch and comment.
I found it no easy matter to make my purchases. In
the first place, the French merchants, knowing that
many of the American boys had money to spend, asked
about four prices for everything, and, secondly, the
French methods of doing business are quite
different from our own. But by spending practically
the entire day, by attempting Hebraic methods in pur-
chasing, and by pretending that I had only a few francs
to spend, I managed to spend about $25 in buying the
few things that I wanted to bring home.
I was then ready to leave, whenever Uncle Sam was
willing to take me.
Seventy-one
CHAPTER IX.
Home Again
On the morning of December 11th a number of the
boys at the hospital at Tours received orders to prepare
for a trip to the coast. This was the most welcome news
that we could have heard and we hastily got our per-
sonal belongings together. It was about 10 o'clock when
we were placed in ambulances and taken from the hos-
pital. We were driven to the railroad station about a
mile distant, and there assigned to quarters in an Ameri-
can hospital train.
This was the first American train I had been on since
I arrived in France, and it certainly was a great relief
to me to know that we were not to be crowded into one
of those uncomfortable, stuffy and tiresome French
trains. The American hospital train furnished an ex-
cellent example of American efficiency, and when con-
trasted with the French trains. I could not but think how
much more progressive our people are than Europeans.
We had everything that we needed, and plenty of it. We
enjoyed good beds, good food, and sufficient room to
move around without encroaching upon the rights and
the good natures of others. We pulled out of Tours
with no regrets on what was our most enjoyable train
trip while in France. It was enjoyable for two reasons —
first, we were traveling in comfort and as an American
is used to traveling, and secondly, we were traveling
toward home.
The trip down the Loire Valley followed practically
the same route that we took on our way from Brest to
Tours. The scenes, of course, were very much the same,
except that the country now wore its winter coat, while
it was mid-summer on my previous trip.
We arrived in Brest on December 13th, and to our
surprise, we learned that President Wilson had just
previously landed there, and the city had gone wild with
Seventy- two
enthusiasm over him. A tremendous crowd gathered at
the station to greet him. Bands were playing and the
occasion was a gala one. Our train stopped about a
quarter of a mile away from the station, where the Pres-
ident greeted a mass of French people and American
soldiers. I regret very much that I was unable to get a
view of the President while he was at Brest; that was
not my fortune. We did, however, see his train pull out
on its journey to Paris.
Soon after we arrived at Brest we were told that we
would be taken back on the "George Washington," the
liner upon which President Wilson crossed the Atlantic,
and great was our joy. However, we were soon doomed
to disappointment, for orders were changed, and we
were taken to the Carry On Hospital, just out of Brest.
The ride to the hospital was a disagreeable one, as it
had been raining and the streets were muddy and wet.
The ambulance rocked more like a boat than a motor
car. We were assigned quarters and given food. We
met a number of boys in the various wards who were
awaiting their time of departure. We asked them about
how long it was after arriving at Brest before soldiers
were embarked for home, and they said the time varied
all the way from three to thirty days. That was not
very encouraging and we were hoping that in our case
it would be three days. The very next morning, how-
ever, a number of our boys received orders to get ready
to depart. I was not included among them, to my
sorrow, and had no idea how long I might be kept at
Brest. It was only a day or two later when we were
made happy by the news that our time to depart had
come. It was joyful news and made our hearts beat with
the joy that only a returning soldier knows.
We were loaded on the hospital ship "La France,"
which is a beautiful, four-funnel French liner, 796 feet
in length. It was the third largest liner in use in trans-
porting troops at that time. We took our places on the
Seventy-three
boat about noon, but the big ship laid in the harbor all
afternoon, and it was not until about sundown that she
started to pull out and we bade "good-bye" to "la belle
France." One might think that there was a lot of cheer-
ing when the boat pulled out on the eventful afternoon
of December 17, 1918, but there was not. Some of the
boys, it is true, cheered heartily. Most of us, however,
were too full of emotion to become wildly demonstra-
tive. Our thoughts were on home, the folks that are
dear to us, and our beloved native land, and our emotions
were too strained for expression in cheers.
The vessel was manned by French, who treated us
splendidly for the first two days out. After that, how-
ever, they began to skimp on our food and to give us
things of poor quality. For instance, we were given
coffee without sugar or milk, cereals of poor quality
without even salt in them, and no fruit, though it
was understood that fruit was to be a part of our diet.
The boys complained bitterly at this treatment, and
finally our officers, knowing that we were not being
properly fed, made an examination of the ship. They
found several hundred boxes of apples that were sup-
posed to be for us, stowed away in the hold. It had
been the intention of the French in charge of this boat
to steal that fruit, evidently to sell it, at the expense of
the wounded American soldiers on this hospital ship,
who had fought and saved their country from the
Hunnish hordes. We had been cheated and overcharged
for everything we purchased in France, and we knew it,
but it surely did hurt when we were thus treated by men
whose homes we had saved at the cost of our blood. I
will say this : We did not hold this kind of treatment
against the French people as a whole, but to individuals
who are so unprincipled and so greedy that they are
willing to sacrifice the fair name of their people for a
paltry gain. I might add here that it was the smallness
of some of the individual "Y" workers that brought the
Seventy-four
Y. M. C. A. into such disrepute among the American
soldiers in France. This simply shows how important
it is for an individual to sustain the reputation of his
country, or his association, as the case may be, by honor-
able conduct.
After our officers uncached the horde of stolen apples
in the ship's hold, we were well fed and on the last two
days of the journey had no complaint to make on this
score.
On December 24th at 10 a. m. some far sighted in-
dividual shouted "Land" and what a welcome word it
was. Columbus, watching from the deck of the Santa
Maria, was not more happy when he first set eyes upon
the faint outline of the new world than we were as the
dim blue shoreline began to rise upon the horizon. There
was a mad rush to the deck and everybody who could
get out was soon watching over the rail. It was not
long before the Statue of Liberty came into full view
and there was joy in our hearts for we knew that at
last we were home.
In a very few minutes our ship stopped and a pilot
was taken aboard to guide the great vessel safely into
the harbor. Next we were greeted by a yacht that
steamed out beside us carrying a great sign, "Welcome
Home." It was the 24th of December, and this boat
carried a large Christmas tree, typical of the season.
As we entered the harbor, we were given a wonderful
welcome. It seemed as though every whistle in the great
city of New York had been brought into action to make
noise on our account. Certainly every boat in the
harbor from the smallest tug to the trans-Atlantic liners
was blowing a blast; and the noise, though of an entirely
different character, was as deafening as that of a battle.
Every window of all the great buildings that make up
that wonderful skyline of New York was filled with
patriotic citizens waving a welcome to us. It was a
great sight and one that the boys will never forget. It
Seventy -five
seemed so good to see our own people again — our pretty-
girls, our fond fathers, our dear mothers, our elderly
folks, and even our street gamins. It gave us a feeling
that we would like to take them all in our arms, for
they were ours and we were theirs. I knew, of course,
that there would be none of my folks to meet me, as
my home is in California, but it did me good to see the
other boys meet and greet their mothers, fathers, sisters
and sweethearts.
We started disembarking at 2 o'clock in the afternoon.
I was on the top deck and did not get off until 9 o'clock,
being among the last to leave the ship. We were taken
on a ferry to Jersey City, where we were entertained and
given food. Later in the evening we were taken to
Camp Merritt, New Jersey, by train. It did seem good
to ride on a real American train, on American soil, and
among our countrymen. We arrived at Camp Merritt
at 11 o'clock at night and I was taken to the hospital.
I was assigned to a ward and after getting comfortably
fixed was given a real American meal, and you may be
sure that it was thoroughly enjoyable. We had to stay
in the barracks the next day to undergo a physical ex-
amination and for the further purpose of taking pre-
cautions against the persistent cooties — some of the boys
having encountered them on the boat.
The spirit of Christmas was everywhere manifest, and
certainly I could have had no Christmas present better
than to arrive in America on Christmas eve. The Red
Cross brought us boxes of good things to eat and
Christmas presents, and the people entertained us won-
derfully. They took us on automobile rides in their
private cars, to dinners, to theaters, etc. Their hospital-
ity was of the real American sort and it was deeply
appreciated by the boys.
At the very first opportunity after reaching camp, I
sent a telegram to my parents in Sacramento, telling
them that I had arrived safely. I received an answer
Seventy-six
saying that all at home were well, that same day, and
it was a welcome message. It was the first word I had
heard from home since I had been gassed and wounded
in October. I had been transferred from place to place
so frequently that my mail never quite caught up with
me. It kept following me around, and I did not get all
my letters until some weeks after I arrived home.
I was in Camp Merritt for a month and five days, and
during that time I had an excellent opportunity of seeing
New York. I made several trips to the metropolis and
enjoyed seeing the points of interest of that great city.
While at the camp I met Harry Nauman, a Sacramento
boy, and greatly enjoyed the pleasure of his company.
From my folks I heard that James Brenton, my room
mate at college, was also there. I looked him up and
was fortunate in finding him. We spent three or four
pleasant days together before we departed for California.
On the first day of February, I left the camp and was
sent to the Letterman Hospital in San Francisco. The
trip across the continent was uneventful, except for the
last one hundred miles of the journey. At Sacramento I
again saw my folks after a year in the service and my
father and mother accompanied me to San Francisco,
making the ride most enjoyable as Dad related all the
local happenings during the long time that I was away.
I spent several days in the Letterman Hospital and was
then honorably discharged from the service.
I have endeavored to relate in a general way many of
my experiences. I have not told all. Some of the more
gruesome occurrences I have left untold, not believing
that any good would come of their repetition.
I can honestly say that I am glad that I went to war
and that I fought for my country. The experience was
of untold value to me, as it gave me a broader and more
serious view of life. Notwithstanding all the horrors of
war, if called upon again, I would willingly go. I am
ready to serve my country any time it calls. We have a
Seventy-seven
wonderful country and a wonderful people. I realize
that now more than I did before we went to war. My
rather limited observations lead me to believe that we
are far ahead of any European country. If Americans
live for America, if they put country above self, if they
obey the laws and become acquainted with all the won-
ders of their own land, this nation will make even greater
progress in the future than it has in the past. The war
brought out a wonderful spirit; let our spirit in times of
peace be just as patriotic.
Seventy-eight
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