HISTORY
of
THE 308th INFANTRY
By
L. Wardlaw Miles
Chapter 4
The Lorraine Front
CHAPTER IV
The Lorraine Front
I
MORE hard hiking, and then the Battalions
entrained by night at Longpre, Hangest, and Pont Remy
respectively. Although the yards at Longpre had been
severely bombarded the night before, the Regiment was
spared an attack. There followed an endless trip of three
days, which began by slowly carrying us westward. All
sorts of speculation were rife as to the destination. To
Italy! To Chateau-Thierry, where it was rumored the
Germans had broken through in their drive to Paris! (And
where in reality they had been stopped at this time by
the French and our own 2nd Division.) To Russia! Perhaps
the only destination not seriously suggested was Hoboken.
By day and night the little freight cars
marked "Hommes 40-Chevaux 8," rumbled and
bumped slowly along, stopping at times for a brief stay
while the men filed by to fill canteens with coffee. The
Regiment was traveling, two sections to the Battalion,
and the ordres de transport were issued to the train
commander at various points en route. This route took the
Regiment through battered Amiens, then southwest to
Forges-les-Eaoux, then southeast on a broad swing around
Paris, touching its environs at Versailles, through Toul
and Nancy, until the final ordres de transport were
handed to the train commanders bearing the final
destinations- Charmes, Chatel, and Thaon, small rail
stations in the neighborhood of Epinal. Then by degrees
all learned that we were going in on the Lorraine front.
For some reason, irritating and
unexplainable to the doughboy, these three detraining
points were a full day's march from billeting or camping
areas. Some sections detrained stiff and sleepy in the
chilly dawn to find a march of twenty kilometers ahead of
them. At last the 1st Battalion got itself comfortably
sheltered under tents in the beautiful park of the
chateau of Girecourt, Major Budd's 2nd Battalion under
canvas and in billets in Fontenay, and Major Chinner's
3rd Battalion and Regimental Headquarters, with
Headquarters Company, at St. Helene.
The Regiment was for a time at rest.
Rolling kitchens began again to function. Tiresome
travel, reserve rations, and grueling marchings had come
to an end. After two months of dirty barns, bombing
raids, long-range artillery fire, with the roar of the
big guns often in one's ears, and at night the horizon
blinking with the constant heat-lightning above the
front; after those months of chilly discomfort and hard
training on the Arras front, the Regiment had apparently
entered a land of peace and summer. Once more British
rations had given way to honest American white bread,
beef, bacon, and potatoes. There was no drill schedule.
Reveille was moved half an hour forward, and the men
devoted themselves to getting clean.
2
The major part of the 77th Division was now reunited, and
billeted in various towns surrounding Division
Headquarters at Rambervillers. While under command of our
own officers, we were not yet free from tutelage. Under
supervision of the 61st French Division we were to
relieve the 42nd-the Rainbow-Division in the line.
The 308th, going into the line, was
preceded by reconnaissance, and as the battalions went in
in numerical order the first trip of inspection was made
by the Major and Captains of the 1st Battalion with their
First Lieu-tenants. Such a trip,- whether taken then or a
little later when all went forward, forms a memory never
to be forgotten. Now at last, for the first time, most of
us reached the long anticipated and long approached front
line. After a ride of several hours in trucks through
Baccarat, to which Division Headquarters had moved;
through Neuf Maisons, later Headquarters of both 308th
and 154th Brigade; over red sandstone roads, through
beautiful pine forests, the party reached the little town
of Badonviller, where it descended.
Two things stick in the writer's memory.
The road on the hill west of Neuf Maisons, camouflaged
with dirty yellow cloth and with the ominous and
significant sign suspended above it, "Zone
Dangereuse "; this and the meeting during a short
stop at the town with certain members of the 42nd
Division, who were strolling about in what, considering
the situation, seemed a strangely unconcerned manner.
Badonviller before the war had been an
important little manufacturing city; it made pottery, as
Baccarat made glass, and after Baccarat, was the most
important town of the Department of Meurthes-et-Moselle.
The German invasion Of 1914 had wrecked it and swept
past. When the Germans fell back after the battle of the
Marne, Badonviller rested on the French line, and four
years of shell-fire had accomplished what the enemy could
not finish in his first rush. In the streets, barricades
constructed of wattling, with a filling of cement leaving
loop-holes for rifles, recalled where the French had
resisted the invader in hand-to-hand street fighting. At
the time of the 308th's arrival the town boasted a single
citizen, who was later gassed and evacuated. Some half
dozen houses still stood, and in one of these, a big
square two story structure of red limestone set at the
rear of a court-yard, formerly home and wholesale house
of a wine mer-chant, was Headquarters of the 3rd
Battalion, 168th Infantry, which our 1st Battalion
relieved.
Badonviller occupied the extreme left of
our sector, which from there extended towards the east
and south about three miles. The whole front line trench
system was connected in the rear by a road, and for the
most part sufficiently protected from observation by
forests that served as cover in the daytime for small
parties. An American platoon or string of ration carts,
however, always caught the eye of the observer in a
German balloon and drew a few bursts of shrapnel. For
some unexplained reason, French ration wagons went
unmolested.
The regimental sector was divided into
three sub-sectors: Chamois, on the left, rolling
meadowland strongly suggestive of Illinois prairie;
Village Negre, in the middle, breaking into wooded hills
and valleys; and Chasseur, on the right, yet more wooded
and hilly, where the actual foothills of the Vosges range
began. The trench system constituted an elaborate maze,
running haphazard up and down hill and across gullies;
now in the woods and now in open land. At intervals
occurred little groups of dugouts built with pine logs
and square blocks of red stone into the sides of the
hills. Many of these were ornamented with rustic
woodwork, done with a truly French sense of decoration.
To Major Nelson, on his arrival, occurred
an incident which is worth relating. A few days earlier
some American artillery had dropped a few shells into the
opposite town of Bremenil. There existed a sort of
gentleman's agreement that Headquarters towns should not
be shelled. And so the enemy replied by shelling and
gassing Badon-viller. This happened to begin when the two
Battalion Commanders and Staff were sitting down to mess.
Mess was finished to the last detail-and this Iowa outfit
lived well in the front line; not an officer left the
table until the gas alarm was screeching in the
courtyard. Shells were bursting in the street, and a
battered building adjoining Headquarters had been set on
fire and was blazing. The bombardment kept up till 10:30
that night and began again at 3 in the morning to last
two hours. A noisy reception to what had been described
as "a quiet rest sector " !
On the 17th of June, the entire Regiment began its
thirty-eight kilometer march to the front. The 1st Battalion leading reached Ker Avor, a French rest
camp, at 2 o'clock of a rainy, muddy, pitch-black night.
The next day the Battalion slept and rested in the rustic
Chautauqua-like collection of artistic huts set in the
center of a magnificent pine forest. The next night the
Regiment marched in by half platoons to relieve the
Rainbow battalion. An interesting feature of the march to
the front was the meeting at night with the troops coming
out, and particularly memorable that with the 69th New
York. Father Duffy vividly describes the occasion:
Yesterday was New York "Old Home Day" on the
roads of Lorraine. We marched out from Baccarat on our
hunt for new trouble, and met on the way the 77th
Division, all National Army troops from New York City. It
was a wonderful encounter. As the two columns passed each
other on the road in the bright moonlight there were
songs of New York, friendly greetings and badinage,
sometimes good-humored, sometimes with a sting in it.
"We're going up to finish the job that you fellows
couldn't do ... .. Look out for the Heinies or you'll be
eating sauerkraut in a prison camp before the month is
out ... .. The Germans will find out what American
soldiers are like when we get a crack at them."
"What are you givin' us," shouted Mike
Donaldson: "we was over here killin' Dutchmen before
they pulled your names out of the hat." "Well,
thank God," came the response, "we did not get
drunk to join the army."
More often it would be somebody going along the lines
shouting "Anybody there from Greenwich
Village?" or "Any of you guys from
Tremont?" And no matter what part of New York was
chosen the answer was almost sure to be "Yes."
Sometimes a man went the whole line calling for some one
man: "Is John Kelly there?" the answer from our
side being invariably, "Which of them do you
want?" One young fellow in the 77th kept calling for
his brother who was with us. Finally he found him and the
two lads ran at each other burdened with their heavy
packs, grabbed each other awkwardly and just punched each
other and swore for lack of other words until officers
ordered them into ranks, and they parted perhaps not to
meet again. At intervals both columns would break into
song, the favorite being on the order of:
East side, West side, All around the
town, The lots sang " ring-a-rosie, "London
Bridge is falling down." Boys and girls together,
Me and Mamie O'Rourke,
We tripped the lightfantastic
On the sidewalks of New York.
The last notes I heard as the tail of the dusty column
swung around a bend in the road were "Herald Square,
Anywhere, New York Town, take me there." Good lads,
God bless them, I hope their wish comes true.
Fortunately the weather had cleared, which made the
further advance more comfortable. Doubly fortunate, the
enemy apparently suspected nothing of what was going on.
The front was as silent as the usual midnight at Upton.
The French artillery, which had earlier relieved the
artillery of the 42nd Division and was to support the
combined Franco-American line (the 77th Division's own
artillery still being in training), put down a three-hour
bombardment in the first part of the evening, with the
double purpose of covering the relief and of repaying the
ungentlemanly shelling of Badonviller. According to one
story, which is said to have become current in the A. E.
F., members of the 42nd Division picked up the day before
the relief one of the German paper propaganda balloons
which bore the following message: "Good-bye 42nd!
We're sorry to see you go! Welcome 77th I We'll give you
Hell! " A good story, but if the balloon was picked
up, it was never shown to any officer of our own
Regiment.
At 9 o'clock, Captain Harvey's runner arrived at Battalion Headquarters with the laconic message-Company
A in position. It was possible to conduct the relief of
the Chasseur sector practically by daylight owing to its
being heavily wooded and approached by well sheltered
roads. About 11 o'clock Captain Breckinridge's runner
announced B in position in the trenches at Village Negre;
about midnight, Captain Fahnestock, obliged to proceed
with the greatest caution in the open treeless Chamois
sector, reported C in position and the relief complete.
At last! The first of the National Army
is actually in the line, holding its own small section of
the five hundred odd miles of Western Front. At last!
Here is the place toward which every moment of the last
nine months has been step by step leading us. And whether
his eyes rested upon the walls of a room in Battalion
Headquarters, or the walls of a dugout a little further
front, or whether they peered from a still more advanced
strong point, reached by the maze of trenches and facing
some dimly -seen field or woods, wherever he might be,
there came into each man's heart something which might be
translated into words thus: "At last! This is the
Real Thing. May I play a man's part in it."
And so the 308th went into the front line
on the night of June 21-22.
3
To one visiting the trench system of the sector for the
first time, it appeared a maze at once intricate and
with-out plan. Nevertheless the scheme by which the
French placed the different groups of soldiers in the
front line was in itself simple enough. This scheme,
identical in each of the three sub-sectors, divided the
front line into three parallel lines. First came the P.
C. (Poste de Commandement) in which the Captain of the
Company occupying the sub-sector had his quarters. Next
going forward were two P. A.'s (Points dAppui) each
garrisoned by a platoon half French and half American.
These P. A.'s were strong positions of firing trenches,
support trenches, and dugouts, forming the main line of
resistance. Finally, at the extreme front, from six
hundred to a thousand yards beyond the P. A.'s, were four
G. C.'s (Groupes de Combat) each garrisoned by a platoon,
two by American platoons and two by French. These G. C.'s
were miniature strong points, practically square, with
firing trenches, support trenches, and communicating
trenches. The G. C.'s were connected with the P. A.'s by
long communicating trenches, most of them carefully
revetted with wattling and floored with duck board.
However complicated it may sound in description, the
theory of the scheme was simplicity itself. The P. C. was
a tree trunk which branched into two P. A.'s, and each of
these P. A.'s branched in turn into two G. C.'s. Each of
the three sub-sectors was such a branching tree. In
consequence, the entire Badonviller sector included three
P. C.'s (from right to left-Chasseur, Village Negre, and
Chamois); in advance of these, six P. A.'s (numbered
from. right to left, 1 to 6); and at the extreme front,
twelve G. C.'s (numbered from right to left, 1 to 12). By
this arrangement, P. A. No. 1 supported G. C.'s Nos. 1
and 2; and so on until on the extreme left, P. A. 6
supported G. C.'s 11 and 12. The Points d'Appuis all had
French names as well as numbers, but no one memorized
them as the numbers were so much more convenient.
According to the original scheme of defense, each P. C.
was garrisoned by an American and a French platoon with
an American and French Company Commander in joint
command; each P. A. was garrisoned by a mixed platoon of
French and Americans with two platoon commanders. G. C.'s
1 and 2 were held by platoons from Company A; 3 and 4 by
French platoons; 5 and 6 by platoons from C; and finally
11 and 12, considered the most vulnerable positions of
the line, by the French. Company D and a French Company
were in support in the town of Badonviller. All the
positions so far mentioned were of course part of the
real front line (the so-called Green Line). The real
support (on the so-called Red Line) was the 2nd Battalion
camped at Ker Avor, but ready at the first alarm to spread out into the
reserve line of trenches running
through the woods there. The real reserve (on the Blue
Line) was the 3rd Battalion in the town of Bertri-champs.
On the night of June 23rd, a change in the scheme of
defense saved one American platoon and cost the French
the whole of another. The original garrisoning of the G.
C.'s put the Americans in liaison with the French 8th
Army on the right of the front line, and put the French
in liaison with the front of the American 307th on the
left. Therefore on this night the posts were shifted, the
French taking the odd numbers and the Americans the even.
This substituted a French platoon for the American
platoon in G. C. 9. The French platoon was wiped out that
very night.
In the Chamois sector, a slight variation from the scheme
of defense in the rest of the line was made with G. C.
12, held by Lieutenant Sheridan's platoon at the extreme
left of the regimental front. Since this position was
clearly untenable at night, the platoon was withdrawn to
the ruins of the big pottery factory on the edge of
Badonviller, leaving one squad in G. C. 12. The French in
11 were likewise withdrawn at nightfall, but G. C. 10 was
held by Lieutenant Flood's platoon with the orders to
keep the position by night and day to the last man. The
French in G. C. 9 had similar orders. In support were
Lieutenant Cullen's platoon in P. A. 5 and. Lieu-tenant
Schenck's in P. A. 6, and with each of these in
accordance with the plan already described a French
platoon as well. Lieutenant Schenck, acting temporarily
as Gas Officer, was not with his men, but his work in
organizing the gas defenses doubtless proved helpful that
night. The platoon of C Company was under command of
Corporal Martin F. Tuite who later headed a platoon in
the Pocket. Captain Fahnestock, with Lieutenant Blackwell second in
command, was in command of the sub-sector.
Meanwhile Battalion Headquarters had been established in
the so-called "Pink Chateau" which contained a
telephone switchboard, and was a two story stucco
residence painted a startling pink. There was a good
reason for this choice; the Pink chateau had never been
hit. Some legend bequeathed by the town's departed
inhabitants told of its owner being in league with the
enemy, and of a dog, trained by him to carry information,
captured with a message to the Germans tied to his
collar. The Kaiser's own mandate was supposed to protect
the Pink chateau. How much faith this legend deserved
will appear later.
On the day after the relief, Captain Crook brought up his
Machine Gun Company and established his Headquarters at
Village Negre, while Captain Condon, Regimental Surgeon,
set up an aid station in a gas protected cellar in
Badonviller. Another such station was under Lieutenant
Morgan at Village Negre, and the third under Lieutenant
Cooley at Chasseur.
The events of the night must be told in the light of
subsequent knowledge. Whether the balloon story was true
or not, the Germans knew that some new Division was in,
and prepared a royal reception. Special artillery was
brought up, and gas shell projectors installed for a big
gas attack. A battalion of Sturm Truppen, or "Storm
Troops," was employed to stiffen the 35th Landwehr
Division already on the Division's front. The attack
planned was apparently more ambitious than a local raid,
as was learned from prisoners who returned from German
prison camps after the Armistice. At least six bombing
airplanes had been brought into the show. Other planes
with machine guns were to circle above the trenches.
Several companies of flamethrowers were also assigned to
the attack, but, though the 307th lost some men from
these, they apparently never got close enough to get into
action against the 308th.
Of all this preparation the Regiment was
totally unconscious. For two days reigned the quiet of a
summer Sunday in the country, only broken occasionally
when some distant German 77 or I55 took a ranging shot on
the French batteries carefully and securely screened in
the thick timber north of Ker Avor.
"Bonne guerre, ici, " remarked
Captain Poli to Captain Fahnestock as they made the
evening rounds of the Chamois line.
From Mont Kemmel to Albert the British
were holding on desperately, looking forward to the
renewal of the great German drive. At Chateau-Thierry the
French were gripping hard, fearful for Paris in case of
another blow like that of May. But this was the rest
sector of Lorraine. "Bonne guerre, icil"
4
At exactly 3 o'clock on the morning of June 24th, the
storm broke. It did not begin with a pattering of shells,
an interlude gradually working up to the fortissimo of
drumfire. It began all at once-as if at one moment an
organist had pulled out all the stops, pressed down all
the keys, and stepped hard on all the pedals. The sound
recalled that of the whistles and explosions at midnight
of New Year's Eve, a background of steady roar supplied
by the discharge of far off guns, punctuated with the
sharp and broken reports of shells exploding near at
hand.
In Badonviller, battered walls began to
tumble; soon the streets were blocked with debris; shells
of all calibres up to I55's were bursting at almost
minute intervals; and as about every third carried gas
the town was soon reeking with mustard fumes. The choice
of the Pink Chateau as Battalion Headquarters was
obviously not unknown to the enemy. Five direct hits were
registered on the building and grounds, and throughout
the bombardment two airplanes circled over the chateau
and peppered it with machine gun fire. It is to be
remembered that here was situated the telephone exchange,
by which
the entire trench system, French Headquarters,
Regimental Headquarters at Neuf Maisons, and Division
Headquarters at Baccarat, were all connected.
The exchange in the Pink chateau was
placed in a half cellar and thus fairly well protected
from gas, but the necessity of constantly opening the
blanketed doors for those going in and out soon filled it
with fumes. The Battalion Staff worked in gas masks, the
telephone operator taking off his mask long enough to
shout messages into the phone. Secrecy was at an end. The
enemy knew what was going on better than we did. Now
Major Nelson began to learn that nothing is quite so
helpless as a battalion commander during an attack on a
trench position, unless it be his own superiors farther
back. He has made his dispositions out in front and they
will have to stand. If attacked he cannot get out to
change them. His duty it is to sit tight at Battalion
Headquarters where he can be found, to try to keep his
line of communications open, and to be ready to send help
to any section of the front that calls for it.
One by one the wires began to go out.
First died the one to French Headquarters, and soon only
two were left, one forward to an observing post in
Chamois, and the other back to Regimental Headquarters.
The operator in Chamois stuck to his post throughout, and
as daylight dawned, reported no attack in that
sub-sector. The message went through to Regimental
Headquarters and then this line died. Major Nelson turned
to two men of the Signal Platoon and commanded them to go
out and repair the line.
"Out there?" asked one of them
quizzically.
"Certainly out there. The Infantry
is out there, isn't it? The Signal Platoon ought to have
as much guts as the Infantry."
" Come on, Bill, it's us for the
fresh air," said the lineman. They adjusted their
gas masks, gripped their tool kits, and disappeared
behind the gas blanketed door. They had the line fixed by
the time the show was over, when it proved of great help
in getting up additional medical assistance.
Shortly after daylight, the only
remaining telephone line, that to the Chamois outpost,
died and an impenetrable curtain of ignorance descended
over the happenings at the front, while every one
wondered ceaselessly as to the fate of the three
companies out there. About 5 o'clock the storm ended as
suddenly as it began. A silence followed almost
depressing in quality after the infernal racket. The
ruins of Badonviller were smoking and white dust clouds
hung over the piles of d6bris. Streets were piled with
stone and mortar interspersed with puddles of yellow
mustard gas mixture.
At last a C Company runner staggers into
Battalion Headquarters. He is white-faced, mud-covered,
and his uniform is torn. He reports that everybody is
killed.
'Trenches all gone. Men all gone.
Everything all gone. "
What had really happened at the front?
Of the three sub-sectors, that of
Chasseur had received no punishment whatever. But Village
Negre, cut transversely by a deep gulley, was an ideal
place upon which to deliver a gas attack, and this the
Germans carried out in a very thorough manner. The road,
Captain Breckinridge's P. C., and the two P. A.'s were
peppered with nine inch gas shells. One of these landed
directly on B Company's rolling kitchen and blew it to
pieces. The accuracy of the fire was very noticeable, and
the communication trenches received a number of hits. As
many members of B Company then had opportunity to
observe, the sound of a gas shell has a peculiar quality
accompanied by a sort of gurgling and hissing in flight
and exploding with a softer detonation than that of the
high explosives. Two men of B Company were killed
outright by bursting shells, and many others suffered
from gas. " Thirty-eight of these required treatment
and one died. The French in the same sector are said to
have lost more than one hundred. Although this was our
first experience, our gas discipline was apparently the
superior.
But it was in the Chamois sector that the
most important events had happened. In addition to the
bombardment there were attacks made on G. C.'s 9, 10, and
11. The French platoon in 9 was, as already stated,
virtually wiped out.
At G. C. 10 the platoon which had never
been under fire before went through a terrific hammering.
At one corner a two hundred and fifty pound air bomb made
a direct hit, and the trench became a gaping shell crater
twelve feet across and fifteen feet deep. No better
platoon than Lieutenant Flood's could have been picked on
which first to try the effect of battle upon our
conscript army. It was about the most cosmopolitan
platoon of the most cosmopolitan company that came out of
the melting pot of New York. It comprised Irish,
Italians, East Side Jews, Russians, Scandinavians, and
even a few native Americans, but they all acted as one
would wish Americans to act in such a crisis. At Camp
Upton, this had been one of the best drilled platoons in
the 308th, proving a close contender for the Regimental
trophy won by an E Company platoon. Now upon another kind
of drill ground it was to show the effect of that
drilling.
When the barrage lifted, Flood gave the
command to man the firing trench. Instantly riflemen and
chauchat teams took their places still wearing gas masks.
The wearing of the masks was a mistake but in accordance
with French orders in the sector, and in spite of this
handicap they met the advancing Germans with concentrated
rifle fire. The attacking force on G. C. 10 was estimated
from 150 to 200. If this is correct, a conservative
estimate would show the Americans outnumbered three to
one. While rifles and chauchats were clearing the front,
the enemy filtered in from the sides of the battered
positions so that the Americans were attacked on three
sides at once. The fight became a hand-to-hand affair:
German potato mashers against American bay-onets in the
shell holes and battered trenches. Flood encouraged his
men in just the way that any one who had watched him
working with them for the last nine months, might know he
would do. After he had shot two Germans and lay wounded
on the ground, he continued this splendid encouragement
until from loss of blood he grew unconscious. By that
time the platoon was overpowered by numbers and the fight
for G. C. 10 was lost. But there had been no surrender.
With fifty percent of the platoon lying on the
ground-seventeen of whom had seen their first and last
fight-the struggle still went on.
When the platoon ceased to be a fighting unit, the
Germans rounded up twenty prisoners and went back to
their own lines. That these prisoners did not go without
a fight the bayoneted body of Corporal J. J. Sullivan,
found later in the road toward the German trenches, was
mute witness. The next morning our scouts found the body
of but one German in front of G. C. 16. Sergeant Wagner,
who with a badly shattered leg had crawled back the three
quarter mile of communicating trench, as well as the five
unwounded survivors of the platoon, all asserted that
many of the attacking force had been killed. It was not
until after the Armistice, when Corporal Nasser came back
from a prison camp at Strassburg, that the truth was
known. The German losses in the attack on G. C. 10
exceeded the entire strength of Flood's platoon. The
enemy had concealed them by carrying off his dead and
wounded.
Here is Flood's own account of the matter:
Early on the morning of the 24th, I decided that as
everything was going along so nicely, I would shave.
Sergeant John Herold and myself were on duty at night.
While Sergeants Wagner and Maroney took charge during a
few hours, I slept during the day. I had finished my
shave and made a round of the sector inspecting the men
in their "stand to" positions and was sitting
in the dugout gazing into the candle light, when I was
suddenly almost thrown to the floor by the terrific
bombardment that started. Not stopping to think, I
immediately gave the gas signal and rushed out of the
dugout into our trench system. The din was something
terrific and the ground was being rapidly chewed up, so
much so, that when I collected my wits, and started back
to get the Sergeants together, I could make very little
headway. Luckily, however, I ran across Sergeant Frank
Wagner, and my orderly, Private William Dietrich, and the
three of us proceeded to go up and down the line. Most of
us by this time had gotten over our first shock, and I
ordered the men to lie low in their positions, with a man
standing every few yards to watch for the approach of the
enemy.
As far as I could make out then, and what I have heard
since tends to confirm it, the German barrage was laid to
my right and left with the third side of it directly on
our position. After what seemed an age, but what was I
suppose about ten minutes, the side of the barrage that
was directly on our position seemed to move back toward
where you and Company B were stationed. So far, through
the dusk, we could see only vague forms moving in No
Man's Land, but the sky was getting clearer every minute.
Wagner, Dietrich, and myself were plowing through the now
half demolished trenches, when in making the turn in one,
we came across about a dozen of the enemy in single file,
advancing down an unused trench that ran into No Man's
Land and which had been barricaded. I aimed my pistol and
fired twice; two of them dropped but the others
immediately let fly their grenades. I jumped back behind
the turn in the trench, and yelled to Wagner and
Dietrich, but one of the grenades hit the wall of the
trench behind me, and dropped between my feet. I saw it
and jumped, but as I did so, it exploded and that put me
out of it. Wagner and Dietrich were both badly wounded by
the same grenade, and as I opened my eyes, I saw Wagner
gradually coming to. Private Cossen was also wounded near
us at the time. Two of the Germans proceeded to take
everything we had in our Pockets, and one of them spoke
in German to Cossen telling him that the Medical Corps
would be up to help soon. He was saying something else,
when Racco Rocco, a young Italian who could hardly speak
a word of English, made his appearance around the turn of
the trench, and immediately charged with his bayonet. He
was stopped by a grenade, which exploded directly between
his feet, wounding him so seriously that he died shortly
after in the hospital.
After that the fighting kept on for sometime around us.
In fact it had become quite bright, when at some signal
all of the Germans who were in our line suddenly left.
During all this time, two German aeroplanes were sweeping
back and forth over us, and when their infantry had left,
came much lower and kept up a continual machine gun fire
along the line.
By this time, those around me who had been unconscious,
began to revive. Sergeant Wagner had an ugly gash in his
neck under the ear, and a large piece of grenade in his
knee. Both wounds were bleeding profusely, and he was the
color of this paper, but he insisted on dragging himself
back in search of assistance for the rest of us. For this
he was awarded the D. S. C.
Other men who distinguished themselves were: Sergeant
Maroney, badly wounded, awarded D. S. C.; Sergeant
Herold, died of wounds; Corporal Patrick Hendricks, the
coolest man of all, worked his automatic rifle as if he
were practicing on the range, D. S. C.; Corporal George
McKee, died of wounds-, Corporal McBride, fought until
knocked unconscious, taken prisoner, died of wounds in
Germany; Privates Hanrahan and George Rothenberg both
killed; Private Jopson wounded and afterwards returned to
line, and was blinded by gas; Privates John L. Sullivan
and Patrick J. Sullivan, both of them wonderful soldiers
and both killed that morning."
6
A word in connection with the Badonviller raid may be
added even at the risk of giving it overmuch attention.
In extenuation let it be pleaded that this was the first
time the men of the National Army had come under fire, a
test than which there could have been none of greater
import in the outcome of the World War.
Lieutenant Sheridan's platoon, as already mentioned, had
drawn back from G. C. 12 to the pottery the night before,
leaving only six men in the post. When the barrage
started Sheridan took his platoon forward to bring help
to the six. Right through the barrage the platoon went;
the faithful Sergeant at the head of the column and the
Lieutenant's own wild, cheery Irish self bringing up the
rear to encourage the faint of heart. All got safely
through the barrage and found the six at the post
likewise unharmed. There they awaited an attack, but none
was made on G. C. 12. Lieutenant Cullen, who had likewise
turned back to the pottery under orders with part of his
platoon, also started forward at the same time as
Sheridan, and got his men safely through the barrage to
the support position.
Comparative quiet now again settled over
the Badonviller sector. A platoon of Company D now
replaced Flood's at G. C. 10, after helping to carry back
the wounded. Colonel Averill and Major Nelson came up,
and the wounded were cared for on all hands. The one
figure which most strikingly dominated the whole strange
scene was that of Captain Condon. Hatless, his sleeves
rolled up, and his arms red to the elbows, he worked
feverishly to save the life of every man in whom any life
was left. The sun shone brightly and the birds sang, but
though it was June, many of the leaves were like those of
a late October landscape, having been turned sickly
yellow by the gas. The Major, losing faith in the village
legend of the Pink chateau's safety, now moved to the
"Swiss chalet." This was nearer French
Headquarters, and the broken telephone wires had taught
the necessity of closer liaison.
Past the Swiss chalet that afternoon moved a little
cortege with Father Halligan, the first battle dead of
the 308th being borne to the pretty little French
cemetery at Village Negre. The enemy had for the most
part been quiet during the afternoon, with only an
intermittent shell now and then in the direction of Ker
Avor. Suddenly there was a nearer and more menacing
sound, and the white smoke of a burst of shrapnel
appeared over Village Negre, followed by another and
another, nearer and nearer to the little burying ground.
The funeral party had been seen from the German sausage
balloon; though to give the enemy his due, he could not
have known its nature. A platoon of pioneers digging the
emplacement for a heavy gun would have looked the same to
the observer in the sausage.
Seated that evening before a cheery fire
in the Swiss chalet, the Padre vented his pardonable
indignation on the foe.
I thought it was a salute [he said] and then I looked
around and I was alone in the cemetery. The burial squad
had left. Then I heard another big noise overhead and
something spattered all around me and cut the leaves off
the bushes. I decided it was not a salute. Shrapnel, you
say it was? What should I know of shrapnel. It wasn't
taught in the College of Rome.
And how did you get out, Father?
I didn't. I just tumbled into the grave
and laid there till it was over, thinking the while that
an open grave is small comfort for a man of the church
with those despicable villains shooting at him from
overhead.
7
One result of the German attack of June 23rd was the
adoption of a new system on the front line by which the
foremost line of defense was held by scattered outposts,
containing two or three men each and known as
"petits postes." The entire front was,
according to the new arrangement, split into two
sub-sectors instead of three, called respectively Chamois
and Chasseur; Village Negre was eliminated. By this
scheme, where three American companies had originally
been in the front line, there were now only two; one with
Headquarters in Badonviller and the other with its P. C.
in Chasseur. On June 28th, the 2nd Battalion relieved the
1st in the front line with E and H ahead. Battalion
Headquarters were moved back to Pexonne, where Major Budd
occupied "Sampson I," and the French Commander
moved to the Chateau, known over the telephone as
"Hayes."
There are few events which deserve record
during the five weeks in which the Regiment remained on
the Lorraine front subsequent to the attack described. On
the night of July ist, a German patrol cut the wire in
front of one of E Company's petits postes, and attempted
to creep into our lines. It was driven off by the members
of the post, one of whom was slightly wounded; in the
morning a quantity of flares and hand grenades were found
left behind. A few days later Lieutenant Griffiths, then
Battalion Scout and Intelligence Officer, together with
Corporal Tuin of G Company, afterwards killed, was
visiting P. P. 12 in what had been the old Village Negre
sector, when they came upon two German scouts in
camouflaged suits attempting a daylight patrol, and
killed or wounded one of these. An enemy attack was
confidently awaited on the eve Of July 4th. At 12:45
A.M., the French batteries opened a terrific barrage
which lasted with great intensity for half an hour. At
the end of that time the French Commander sent confident
word to Major Budd: "Les Boches ne viendront
pas." Sure enough, quiet ensued and there was no
raid. On the 5th, G and F Companies relieved E and H,
which went back to the Battalion support positions now
held at Pexonne. On the 10th, the 2nd Battalion was
relieved on the front line by the 3rd under Major
Chinner; the former moving back into reserve at
Bertrichamps, and the 1st Battalion, now under command of
Captain Whittlesey, taking the support position at Ker
Avor. Finally on July 19th, the 1st Battalion, under
Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, returned to the front line to
remain there until August 1st, when the 77th was relieved
by the 37th National Guard Division of Ohio, and the 1st
Battalion had its place taken by a battalion of the 145th
Infantry.
On July 11th, the 2nd Battalion then at
Bertrichamps, enjoyed band concerts, Y. M. C. A. shows,
and a short programme by Miss Elsie Janis herself. Passes
were issued for Baccarat to the number of fifty a day,
and there was a fine chance for bathing in the river
Meurthe-and also facilities for dental treatment. On the
13th, started the first of a series of ball games which
took place in the afternoon after the morning's drill,
and in anticipation of Bastille Day perhaps, an
exhibition of pyrotechnic signalling. It was at this time
that special orders arrived, commissioning successful
candidates who had attended the Third Officers' Training
School at Upton. These non-commissioned officers, now
commissioned, proved a great loss to the Regiment. Most
of the new lieutenants went to the 1st and 2nd Divisions,
where they made fine records.
It was while the 2nd Battalion was in
support at Ker Avor, that Captain Mills of Company G was
accidentally killed by the explosion of a rifle grenade.
Thus died one of the most beloved leaders in the whole
Regiment, and the possessor of one of the most vivid
personalities.
Captain Philip 0. Mills bad inherited a love for France
from a French mother and a natural military ability from
his father, General Samuel Mills. In 1916 he volunteered
in the Norton Unit and served for seven months as an
ambulance driver for the French Army. He had decided to
join the Foreign Legion when America entered the War, and
he returned to the United States to attend the First
Plattsburg Training Camp, from which he received the
commission of Captain. At Camp Upton he was placed in
command of G Company with which he remained until his
death. As a leader of men, Mills was unsurpassed. He was
keenly anxious to get into action, and among his happiest
moments were those when he took two Sergeants with him to
the British front line. The Colonel of the English
Battalion asked Mills to make a report on the conditions
of the line, and was so impressed by this report that he
wrote to Colonel Averill testifying to Mills' worth and
to his own envy of any officer who commanded him. Mills
would have been glad to change the quiet Baccarat sector
into a general offensive, and after close study of maps
and terrain, conceived the plan of making a quick thrust
and capturing a hill in front of his position which
dominated our line. He did not have the opportunity to
make this adventurous attack, nor unfortunately to make
any attack at all. His death came while, according to his
custom, he was instructing all the men of his company in
all the weapons of an infantryman. Instruction was as
usual under the direct supervision of Mills himself. The
French rifle grenade had been received for the first
time, and as he was the only one familiar with the new
weapon, he personally arranged for the firing. The first
two grenades functioned properly, but the third was
defective and exploded in the tromblon. Two men were
wounded and Mills killed.
A side of Mills, not known to all, was
his sympathy and love for his men. In Camp Upton, one of
his men received a telegram, begging him to come to New
York at once as his mother was dying. There were no
trains that night and there was a bad storm. Starting at
11 in the evening, Captain Mills in his own car drove
this man to New York, left him at him home, and returned
to camp in time for reveille. Many a man in Company G can
testify to his timely help in financial trouble. Many
felt that Mill's reckless courage would not allow him to
come back. True to the ideals of his soldier father, he
laid down his life for his own country and for the
beloved France of his mother.
Mention may be made here of the striking characteristics
of the French poilu whom we now had opportunity to
observe, and who proved so amusingly different from the
English Tommy whom we had noted a little earlier. Nothing
more unpretentious than the small figure in his faded
horizon blue uniform can be imagined. Perhaps the most
noticeable feature of the French soldier's daily life,
both officer and man, was the lack of all haste. There
was no excitement, no long series of detailed orders with
instructions and memoranda so familiar to ourselves. Four
years of realistic war had worn off all non-essentials
(if they had previously existed) and only the fundamental
was left, namely common sense. This, coupled with entire
seriousness of purpose where the War was concerned,
marked the dominating characteristic of the French
soldier. The same simplicity marked the high command;
each Headquarters seemed rather a kindly family affair
than a center of one of the greatest of war machines. The
General Staff was seldom seen. The French Corps to which
we were attached had, we were told, but five officers on
the Staff and of these the senior was a Colonel. There
was little interference from above. When orders had been
given, the Officers of the line were left to carry them
out without constant supervision or interference.
The absence of the typewriter helped to
simplify matters in the army of these practical allies,
since nearly all orders had to be drawn up carefully in
longhand, and as there were but few clerks, the paper
work was naturally minimized. Another feature of the
French Army was the substitution of decorations for
promotions. Typical of the best in his army was Captain
Rene Memmv who joined the 308th at Neuf Maisons as
liaison officer with the French. He endeared himself to
all his American associates by his cheerfulness, his
willingness to work, and the charm of his character. The
real desire of this soldier of Fortune was that when he
had ceased to serve his country in the field, he could
return to a home with his children in Gascony and there
raise bees.
In the meantime, the French had withdrawn
from this front on July 16th. American batteries had
likewise relieved the French artillery, and now for the
first time there was complete American control over this
pleasant sector. For it was, as sectors go, a pleasant
one a rather sleepy old lion who showed his deadly teeth
but once, and at other times afforded fine instruction
for unpracticed hunters in the field of war.
At the front there were frequent patrols
into No Man's Land, and in the rear positions, constant
drill. There was fairly constant shelling of the back
areas (the growling, as it were, of the old beast in his
sleep) but the events of the night of June 23rd were
never repeated. No one, however, knew whether they might
not be repeated at any moment, and thus anticipation was
kept alive. For each man, who in turn went forward from
the comparative comfort and safety of the reserve line to
the almost equally comfortable and safe position of the
support, and finally from this to the front line itself,
for each the interest and novelty of that strange region
never grew old.
The intricacies of the trench system, its
walls and parapets held in place by firm, neatly woven
brushwood revetting; the deep secure dugouts, some
capable of holding a platoon or more of men and with the
blankets at the entrance to keep out gas; the gas alarms,
consisting of empty shells hanging from a support or of
klaxon horns; the carefully labeled French signs:
"Boyau Centrale, Cave-20 Hommes, " " Abri
en cas de bombardement the shell holes torn and gaping;
the machine gun and chauchat emplacements; the printed
propaganda shot from rifle grenades or carried in small
red German balloons; the Very pistols, rockets, and
flares; the hand grenades always at hand;-and last but
not least, No Man's Land itself, sometimes a
dismal-looking stretch of wire-sown field or shattered
woods, sometimes an innocent-appearing sylvan vista, but
always the region where men peered silently ahead or else
spoke in whispers -all of these things were just as you
had read of them, and yet all somehow so different.