A STORY
of
THE 305th MACHINE GUN BATTALION
77th DIVISION
A.E.F.
By
HENRY W. SMITH
Chapter 15
The Argonne
CHAPTER XV
THE ARGONNE
0NE EVENING, as the time drew near to go forward, each
officer addressed his men and explained the problem that
lay ahead. The type of terrain we were to attack through
was described and we were told of the gigantic push to be
made from the English Channel to the Swiss border. It
would probably mean the end of the war. We could, of
course, appreciate what an enormous undertaking it was as
we had a fair idea of the front lines from our experience
in other sectors. One officer, a newcomer, said he had
not been in action before and did not believe that we had
seen any real fighting. It made us wonder where we had
been all the time and we felt like throwing him into a
creek.
We had been fairly comfortable
and certainly well-protected in those deep dug-outs but the night of
September 25th was upon us and the order was everybody out. We started
moving forward along a woods road and in the darkness, looking down into
those ravines, we could see electrically lighted dug-outs of the French
many feet below. It was around ten o'clock when the first low rumble of
the barrage started. It was unceasing and at about this time we noticed
that all was not well with one of the men of C Company. The first sign
came when he refused to carry his pack. He was relieved of it and an
officer ordered that his belt and pistol be taken from him. We soon came
upon small detachments of French hurrying out of the lines we were to
take over. As they came across the gullies our man mistook their
uniforms for the gray of the enemy and started calling for his pistol
and raving for us to do something. It was realized that he had broken
under the strain and was sent back. No need to mention his name. Suffice it to say
that he reached a base hospital where he received good
care and returned to the Company, at the end of the war,
fully recovered
We pressed steadily
forward with the barrage constantly increasing until at
midnight, as will be recalled, it was at full tilt. It is
almost impossible to describe the thunder and roar of the
artillery barrage as guns large and small pounded away
all night on the German front line positions, nor is it
necessary to attempt a description of the bombardment for
the men who were there. Little wonder that men cracked
under it. At one time, during our hike to get into
position, we fell out in the ditch at the side of the
road to allow the engineers to go forward to complete the
work of cutting barbed wire entanglements. Gas masks had
to be worn but I am not so sure that there actually was
gas present. The atmosphere was heavy with smoke from the
guns and smell of powder and along with the heavy fog
that lay over the land we were pretty well blanketed. The
Germans responded with their own artillery, to some
extent, and one shell, landing a short distance back from
the edge of the embankment against which we were sitting,
just about shook our teeth loose.
At daybreak we
found ourselves at the jumping off place in the French
front line trenches waiting to go over the top when the
barrage lifted at the zero hour which was set for six
o'clock. This point may have been officially known as
Abri-du-Crochet or La For de Paris or some such name but,
to us, it was just a scene of wild and utter desolation.
Looking ahead, perhaps a mile distant, could be seen the
tree line of the forest but in between -that territory
known as no man's land, where had been the much talked of
German concrete trenches and concrete machine gun
emplacements dubbed pill boxes -might be likened to a
huge pot of porridge that had been violently stirred by a
giant hand. The scene was one difficult to adequately
describe with its great yawning craters and debris of
every kind, nor did we fully realize the degree of
destruction and havoc of the barrage until we actually
started moving across that terrain. What thoughts ran
through our heads and what prayers were silently offered
as watches were nervously consulted during those last few
minutes before the zero hour. It seemed an age but the
hands at last pointed to six and, as the barrage lifted
-WE WERE OFF. The boys from the sidewalks of New York had
started a job that was to make history. The first army
through the sticky mud of the Argonne where armies in
times past had been slowed up and stopped. It was
impossible for us, with our heavy equipment -machine
guns, tri-pods, ammunition, extra rations, to say nothing
of our own packs -to keep up with the infantry. Slowly
and laboriously we struggled along up hill and down dale
in and out of those great holes made by airplane bombs as
well as the artillery shells. At times, when barbed wire
and coils of spring wire barred our way, we would fling
our equipment over to the far side, dragging ourselves
through as best we could. Fortunately for us the enemy
had been blasted out and had no time to get artillery set
to any extent. A few shells were thrown back at us,
however, but caused no damage. We were very thankful that
the shelling was light as we were plenty busy trying to
make headway without playing hide and seek with exploding
shells.
With still quite
some distance to go the rattle of rifle fire could be
heard in the forest as the infantry regiments contacted
the enemy who, by this time, was making a stand under
cover of the dense woods and was offering stiff
resistance. The entire Division, we have been told, was
in the line at the jump off and immediately following, in
support, was the 78th Division who had their hands full
later on trying to catch up to us to make a relief. As we
struggled across no man's land, there was much
speculation as to what we would do for artillery support.
Every once in a while someone would grumble, "A hell
of a chance the artillery has of getting over this"
or "We're sure S.O.L. for the heavy stuff".
Well, somebody else had also thought about that, no
doubt, before it had occurred to us, and we had reckoned
without the 302nd Engineers. Those fellows followed right
up with picks, and shovels flying and when they
encountered those deep holes that you could drop a house
into, they just built a bridge across. After we had
finally gained the edge of the woods, it seemed no time
before the 75's were banging away. It was not as easy for
the artillery as it may sound. The engineers helped but
the artillerymen had a lot of hard work to do themselves
and their orders were to get the pieces forward. If horse
power could not do it then man power would. As to machine
gunners, orders were to hold every inch of ground taken
by the infantry. We stumbled and struggled along and,
with dysentery to add to our woes, life was none too
sweet at that time.
One thing in our
favor was the weather At the outset it was not raining.
That came later. Once it started, there did not seem to
be any let-up and of course rain meant mud with a capital
"M" in the Argonne. Well, along in the
afternoon we dropped into what remained of the German
communication trenches with the devastation of that first
bombardment of the Argonne drive left behind. The short
rest in the trenches with its protecting walls was,
indeed, very welcome but the war was still on and in a
few minutes the order was passed back, "Everybody
up", and we were at it again. We had finally reached
the tree line that had seemed so far away in the early
hours of the morning. The enemy was making a desperate
stand and the infantry regiments were up against it as
they moved cautiously forward seeking expertly hidden
targets. Everything was confusion and everybody seemed to
be lost. The Third Platoon of C Company, winding its way
along the trenches, soon came out into a ravine and by
keeping well up along the forward slope managed to keep
out of range of exploding shrapnel shells which were
dropping lower down in the ravine. Apparently the Germans
could not get the proper trajectory to get them up on the
slope. It was in this ravine, near a German cemetery
which the men of the Platoon will recall, that Nadel
received the frightful wound that resulted in the loss of
his left arm and later cost him his life. Again the call
was for Kirk who tied that arm fast with first-aid kits
but could have amputated it with nothing more than a pair
of scissors. Nadel had to be taken back which meant
another struggle and, what with dysentery and his
crippled condition, he was helpless, as helpless as any
infant. Those assigned to the task of taking him back,
among them Kirk, were exhausted before reaching the
first-aid station and had to summon aid from the
Engineers.
As to the rest of
the Platoon, it continued on along the ravine, circling
around the hill to the right into another ravine and was,
at last, halted on the forward slope. Lost? Yes, sir,
there the gang sat, with Lieut. Parker in command,
looking across at a whole hillside of abandoned German
shacks which were the fronts of the dug-outs extending
back into the hill. One sign indicated a commanding
officer's quarters, another, the beer stube or saloon,
and so on. It was all too much for Sidney Rust and he had
to have a look into those dug-outs. Everybody yelled to
keep out but that intrepid explorer had to have his
curiosity satisfied. He was doing just what the Germans
expected more of us to do and, within a few, minutes,
that familiar whine was heard as a German shell came
hurtling over. Wham! another and another, right into
their old quarters. Need we tell you how long it took
Rust to get off that hill?