A STORY
of
THE 305th MACHINE GUN BATTALION
77th DIVISION
A.E.F.
By
HENRY W. SMITH
Chapter 17
In the Open at Last
CHAPTER XVII
IN THE OPEN AT LAST
IT WILL be recalled that the open, rolling country was
dotted with small patches of woods and part of C Company,
under Sergeant Bill Russell, moved forward and took
positions in one of those patches with part of one of the
infantry regiments. We had not eaten for some time and
when the infantry officers succeeded in having some food
brought up for their men, Russell tried to get us in on
it. He told the officers that as we were operating with
them that they should arrange for feeding us and, said
he, "If we are not fed by the infantry, I'll take my
men out of here." We gave him the horse laugh for
that one, or what is now known as the Bronx cheer.
"His men." Where would he have taken us? Well,
I suppose we couldn't blame him for trying but it was a
laugh hearing him try to bulldoze the infantry
lieutenants. Incidentally, Russell, as usual, had the
best funk hole in the woods -beneath a huge rock. The
writer and his old battery mate, Wanner, dug a two-man
funk hole and spread our shelter halves over it to keep
out the rain. After doing guard duty, I slipped into the
hole and tried to tell Wanner that the rain was seeping
in but I couldn't get any response so gave it up. In the
morning we found that we were in the hole the wrong way
and I had been talking to Wanner's feet. He could have
kicked my head off or I, his, but there was no restless
sleeping in those days. Once you put your head down, you
just went dead.
After a day or so
in those machine gun positions in the woods we moved
around in the direction of Grand Pre and in the ditch at
the foot of a hill we were caught in a box barrage laid
down by the enemy. Fortunately the rain made the ground
so mushy the shells threw up mud and stones, having gone
into the ground so deeply. Several German prisoners
carried stretchers with American wounded and those
Jerries were certainly horrified when their own shells
came whistling over. Rust, of C Company, as usual, had to
investigate a disabled and abandoned American truck and
again found himself the target of German artillery and
once again was lucky enough to get away unhurt.
Day in and day out
the weary grind had continued so that no one seemed to
know very definitely anything about dates. If anyone were
to inquire, the answer would have been, "What do you
care?" Well, it seems we had moved along to the
sixteenth of October. During one of our breathing spells
back in the woods a dense fog fell and, taking advantage
of this, we were permitted to build a bon fire. The
warmth of that fire certainly felt good. Such things may
seem like trifles but they were big items to that weary,
wet, hungry and cootie-tormented crowd of soldiers. Faces
were haggard and muscles ached but the old pep once again
took possession when we realized we were being relieved.
This was no rumor for there they were, coming up through
the woods, the various elements of the famous 78th
Division, known as the Lightning Division. They had been
following in support right behind us. Some of our fellows
yelled to them, "Where have you birds been so
long?" and they yelled back, "You guys were
going too fast f or us. We would have relieved you long
ago but we couldn't catch you." It was their job now
and we were going back for a well-earned rest but,
brother, the word "rest" in the army has a
funny meaning. Ask any soldier. Anyway, it was away from
the tension of the front line and that meant a good deal.
Back we trudged
through the rain. Yes, it always seemed to be raining. We
left the front on the eighteenth of October and a couple
of days later were in the fairly comfortable Camp de
Croix Gentin near Florent. It was while we were at this
camp that we had our first overseas service stripe sewed
on our sleeves, which marked the completion of six months
in France and what a tough six months! I remember a
little lady in Florent who was kept busy sewing on the stripes, for
which, strange as it may seem, she charged practically nothing,
explaining that her son was a soldier and she knew what it meant to him
to have all his stripes sewed on. Once again the Battalion was together
but not the same number that went over the top with the
first wave on the morning of September twenty-sixth. Men
of each company looked for familiar faces in the other
three companies and were doomed to sad disappointments.
The one-story French barracks were equipped with rough
wooden cots, some double-decked, but we could sleep on
anything and it was dry and comfortable indoors. Many of
the men, however, were miserable for several days with
dysentery. The weather had settled and the surrounding
trees of the woodland, in their fall dress, were a riot
of color while underfoot lay a thick carpet of leaves.
How fortunate, we thought, to be quartered in such an
ideal spot for a much- needed rest and we looked forward
to happy days of dreaming, crap games, poker, perhaps a
little horseshoe pitching and above all, furloughs to
some pleasant leave area. We settled in at Camp de Croix
Gentin for ten days and, as one fellow puts it, enjoyed a
rest by cleaning machine guns and drilling. One afternoon
a corps ordnance inspector, a colonel, made an inspection
of the machine guns and a spare barrel which had been
carried in a fine leather case all through the Argonne,
without being used, was condemned as unfit ' It looks as
though the French put over a fast one that time. Well, it
was squads east and squads west up and down the road. In
addition, we took the machine guns to a range for target
practice, which was a little strange. While pasting up
targets after firing, ricochets from the guns of other
companies still firing sung around and the business of
repairing targets promptly ceased as it was too late in
the game to be taking any chances especially with bullets
from the guns of our own Battalion.
One morning, while
at calisthenics, Major Peake congratulated Lieutenant
Winslow Williams for the manner in which the men were
snapping into attention. We tipped off the Lieutenant
that the Major was coming and we were set for anything.
He said, "Lieutenant, it does the heart of an old
soldier good to see the men snap into attention." We
might mention that Lieut. Williams blushed to the roots
of his hair and took time out for a good laugh. The Major
was not there then. Trained as we were with the British
system, the Major bawled us out, on another occasion, for
not knowing the American drill. He told us that we would
find the drill in the book and advised us to read it.
What he failed to do was to produce the book.
At night shows were
put on by each company in the Foyer du Soldat, or French
Y.M.C.A., and Harry O'Beirn, for C Company, sang his old
stand-by, "When You and I Were Young, Maggie".
Harry started out too high and had to start over on a
lower note. During our stay in the rest camp we were
favored with a call from our old friends, the Argonne
Players, with Joe Raymond and his orchestra.
It came time for
the long-looked-for passes for three-day furloughs to a
leave area. The writer was fortunate, or so he thought '
to be among the first three in C Company. Complete new
outfits were issued and, as it turned out, that is all we
did get out of it. All we had to do was to keep ourselves
clean and await the order to move out. At the show in the
Foyer du Soldat, that night, Adjutant Ellis said that
those going on leave would be held over a day. The next
night it was the same thing but it was explained that it
was not to be taken that the leaves were called off,
simply that transportation was not ready. The third night
we were told that all furloughs had been called off and
then -