HISTORY
of
THE 306th Field Artillery
Soldier Making At Camp Upton
FOR many years,
passengers on Long Island Railroad trains were whirled
past the sign "Yaphank." They must have wished
for the train to stop so that they could see for
themselves whether the sign indicated that a village was
concealed there, or whether it was just a lone signal for
the engineer to speed up.
One day, with other
war news, the papers stated that the Government had
purchased thirty thousand acres of land at Yaphank, and
that the whole outlay had cost one dollar. Six months
later, some thirty thousand men pulling stumps on every
acre of that bleak terrain, agreed that the Government
had been cheated, and that the man who had sold the land
should be arrested as a profiteer.
By August, 1917,
there had sprung up at Yaphank, clapped together by the
clattering hammers of thousands of carpenters, a
wonderful mushroom city of wooden barracks heated,
electrically lighted, and furnished with modern plumbing
through which ran hot and cold water. September 1st found
three thousand officers on hand to receive the new army.
Two weeks later saw this great army congesting the
terminal at New York; pushing to board the train to find
out all about the new city.
Officers were sent
to meet each train a few stations down the line. These
gentlemen of shiny gold and silver bars, mostly newly
commissioned at the First Plattsburg Training Camp and
eager to assert their new-found authority, received a
great shock as they walked through the aisles of the
trains to get the men grouped according to the local
boards they came from and to collect their credentials.
Some regarded the officers as good friends to meet, and
shook hands and explained how glad they were to see them.
Others must have thought they were a new kind of
conductor, and stated their intention of refusing to pay
their fares, claiming that the Government would have to
see them through after having brought them this far.
Old John Barleycorn, was suspected of being a passenger
on many trains, for hilarity of a somewhat bottled brand
reigned supreme on not a few of them.
At the bleak camp
station the new army detrained, and took a good long
look, first at the patches of woods, and then at itself.
Most had worn their old clothes to the fray. Some had
parts of uniforms, -remnants of National Guard, Home
Guard, or Military School days, and the picture was
motley. Many must have imagined Yaphank to be near Coney
Island, for they carried with them bathing suits, extra
straw hats, umbrellas, tennis racquets, bathrobes,
pajamas, and all the comforts of home. All lugged
souvenirs given them by relatives as they departed from
streets, boulevards, and alleys, for the war. "
Who will ever
forget the first nights spent in Casual Barracks?
Everything seemed so strange and conflicting. The sudden
change from beds and rooms at home, to bunks, blankets,
and barracks, with a hundred or more vigorous snores
outraging the atmosphere after "lights out,"
and the breeze playing in and out of the knot holes in
the clapboard walls,-a mocking echo.
Friends had
convinced the rookies before leaving that they were great
heroes, yet in spite of their virtues, it was announced
that fingerprints would immediately be taken. After two
physical inspections and the "needle" they
waited for assignments, and one by one left for various
parts of the camp to report to their new organizations.
Then came the wild
scramble for equipment. There was much haggling,
bartering, and exchanging with the newly-made Supply
Sergeant, already half-sick of his army job. As the
Supply Sergeant was usually a former Bowery Clothing
merchant, a cloaks and suits cutter, a tailor's
assistant, or a dry-goods clerk with a lengthy experience
at Shabelowitz & Kaplan's Grand Street Emporium, the
newly-fitted soldier emerged from his neat-setting
business suit into his olive-drab costume feeling and
looking not unlike a hunk of mispulled taffy! But what
could the Supply Sergeant do, poor soul? He had to issue
made-by-the-million uniforms " ad lib " and
" as is. " Those outfits, with their billowy
seams and mismatched material, must have been bewitched
by some kind of demon who frequents tailors' shops; for
they were all tight where they should have been loose,
loose where they should have been tight, and too long or
too short. But in ranks, viewed from a distance through a
bad pair of binoculars, it wasn't a half badly dressed
army. The accommodating cloth in the uniforms learned to
conform itself to the notches and crotches of Buck
private's contour after the first rain.
After the 306th Field Artillery
took form and finally settled down in its permanent home on 16th Street,
it took six weeks or so to organize the batteries, learn close-order drill and read
the Army Regulations. The art of stump-pulling was so
highly developed that hauling guns out of the mud at the
front came to be as easy as doing physical drill in the
rear rank. The Liberty Loan was no small item in the
curriculum, and no one thought of canceling bonds before
the end of the month. Some did it then only because it
entailed so much red tape to owe more than each month's
pay to the Government after Insurance Premiums and Family
Allotments had made their inroads. During the day, the
rookie artilleryman wore his heels down doing
"squads right" and holding the pivot, for it
was part of military doctrine that a man who could cut a
square corner in camp could not fail to run rings round
the Germans in battle.
Then there was an invention for
making German mince-meat, called "Bayonet Drill." The new soldier was
taught that on the battlefield he might at any moment be confronted with
armies of Germans charging at him in Y. M. C. A. canteen-line formation. In that case he would
have to stand to his guns and take to slicing up Fritzes
into inoffensive particles. Accordingly, while his
fingers froze around the barrel of the rifle, he was
shown the short and long thrusts, and the uppercut with
the butt. But Jerry, like a rag doll, will take a lot of
mauling around before he is unpresentable, so these two
were followed up quickly with a straight thrust of the
butt against his nasal protuberance, and a final
overswing on the top of the head. By that time both
parties would be exhausted. It was cruel stuff to
practice on thin air.
When the fundamentals of military training were completed, the intensive
training schedule began. Bunks were used for gun-drill, so that the men
would be thoroughly trained upon the arrival of the material.
Finally it came, in the form of several rusty caissons.
The guns, except for several " three-point
-twos," had probably been lost in the Civil War. The
"Duties of the Gun Squad" absorbed an hour each
day, while semaphore and wigwag took two hours. Work on
the buzzer was added, in case the signal-flags might be
torn or shot out of the men's hands in the thick of
combat. This was a pleasant feature of the training, for
it could be performed indoors during cold days. The
" Manual of Interior Guard Duty ... .. Military
Courtesy," "Care and Handling of the
Feet," and "Firing Data" were incorporated
into lectures given by officers each of whom had a scheme
of teaching all his own. Officers' School and French
classes at least served the purpose of occupying part of
the time of that portion of the commissioned personnel
which was not at the School of Fire at Fort Sill,
Oklahoma.
Gun emplacements
were dug among the scrub pines near camp. Not knowing
what kind of gun to build them for, and having only the
bunks as gauges, the artillerymen made holes big enough
to fit anything from a machine gun to a six-inch rifle.
Now, no matter what kind of Artillery the 306th was to
be, it was prepared! Lectures on the horse and
instruction in handling motor cars lent added
versatility. The coming of winter and intense cold did
not conquer the regiment's aspirations. During many days,
at the end of an instruction hour, the officers hands
were so cold he could not pull the schedule out of his
pocket, and his mind was so congealed with frost that he
could not remember what it said. It was cold enough for
the men to wear ear-laps, so they couldn't hear him,
anyway. A hike would be proposed to restore circulation.
The trip to the rifle-range was a long and a cold one
usually, and rifle-practice, with officers and men lying
in the prone position in mud and ice, was always
conducive to a great longing for mother and hot coffee.
The only warm thing around was the language.
Although the
schedule took up most of the men's time, other diversions
monopolized their thoughts. Camp Upton may have been
crowded with obsolete misconceptions regarding war during
business hours, but when retreat had blown and shop was
closed for the night there was a wild rush for Acker,
Merrill & Condit's store, the Hostess House, Y. M. C.
A., K. of C., Jewish Welfare Building, the Library, and
the Liberty Theatre. Inter-battery basketball games and
boxing bouts were closely contested.
But all these
things were incidental to the weekly Friday night debates
that took place in every orderly room with the First
Sergeant as referee. Between all drills of the week, and
at every turn of the squad, new excuses for getting
passes on Saturday were developed. Business always failed
on Thursday, and births were sure to occur on Saturday
that demanded the presence of those concerned. From cases
such as these, the First Sergeants caught melancholia
when they thought of keeping their rosters straight.
Saturday morning
inspections were interesting, but they were regarded only
as an overture to the great weekly departure. Trains left
for New York every half hour, and this thought reflected
from every button, cup, and rifle inspected. As the
inspection moved slowly, tantalizingly along, one could
see the next battery all through, making for the station,
or piling into a car that was to make the great journey.
And what a trip it was, to the big city! If one went by
car, one either was arrested, or broke down. If one went
by train, one was assured of a comfortable seat, no
stops, the prospect of two good days in New York, and a
pleasant trip back on the 11:44 or the 2:59 Sunday night,
in an officially well-heated electric-lighted train with
no noise, and every reason to be perfectly comfortable.
Then there was the cold dark walk from the station to
barracks for those who didn't care to trust their lives
to the robber barons of the jitney tribe that flourished
on the quarters of the opulent, with no regard whatever
for the ups and down of Upton's streets.
Each battery had
occasion to visit the city in a body and to take in a
show. One night regimental review took place at the 69th
Regiment Armory. When the regiment marched down the
armory floor in Battery Front, it was such a contrast to
drilling over stumps that it lost its head, but cheers
rang out just the same, for the regiment's admirers
thought it was making a figure " 306." The
bands-men were unaccustomed to the echo that rumbled
under the arched roof, and couldn't hear one another, so
each blew his favorite tune. The mixture of melody was
equaled only by the forms of cadence and step in the
regiment which naturally followed.
Those of the
regiment who was unsuccessful in their weekly bouts with
the First Sergeant, made merry over the weekend at Camp
Upton. On pleasant Sundays, camp was transformed from a
drill ground into a picnic park, with basket parties
welcome. From ten o'clock on, trains brought in the
mothers, wives, and sweethearts of officers and men, and
they all had to run the gauntlet of craning olive drab
that packed the road from station to barrack. Big boxes
of "eats" always accompanied these family
parties from home. Tables of organization for a "
Family Squad" were (front rank): In charge, One
Papa, equipped with package containing pie; One Mamma,
equipped with expression " My Goodness! " One
Sweetheart, pretty, never dressed warmly enough for the
cold weather (her silk skirt battling with contrary winds
en route up Fourth Avenue); and One Brother, either above
or below draft age, looking gawky and out-of-place in his
civilians. The rear rank consisted of assorted Uncles,
Aunts, Cousins, and Friends, very poorly drilled. The
admiring " Family Squads" were marched from the
station to barracks, and thereafter they were shown all
the natural, scenic, and artificial wonders of the place.
The more
adventurous climbed up the water tower on Headquarters
Hill, and obtained from there a magnificent bird's-eye
view of the camp. At night, seen from the hill, the
barracks dissolved into the darkness, but thousands of
lighted windows shone as from a magic city. Some of the
battery barracks boasted pianos. Dances were held, and
amiable cooks, with the help of the unfortunate Sunday
Kitchen Police, made hot coffee to go with what was in
the pie-box from home. Then at night, waiting trains took
all the folks back again, after smothering kisses and
tangled hand shakings at the station with
"Gawge." Papa marshaled his squad into seats,
and got into the aisle, where other Papas were preparing
to make the journey standing on one foot apiece.
With the
consolidation and organization of the regiment, came the
establishment of a regimental newspaper, The Howitzer,
under the supervision of Chaplain Thomas. The paper was
so named after the gun the regiment was always hoping to
get. A Post Exchange, or canteen, was run on a
co6perative basis, and the more wily would steal thither
during drill hours to consume oranges, crackers, pie, and
ice cream.
All during the winter of 1918, new drafts were placed
into the regiment, and large numbers came from Camp
Devens, in Massachusetts. At the same time men were taken
out and sent to Camp Gordon, Georgia, and other camps, as
replacement troops in organizations being recruited to
full strength for overseas service. This kept rosters and
organization in a state of continual change and
disruption. Battery and Company officers made great
efforts to keep the best of their men together. It was
because of this nucleus which breasted the almost daily
transfers that the regiment retained its individuality.
Rumors floated in from time to time that the entire
regiment would be converted into infantry either as a
whole or as individuals, and the growing preponderance of
infantry drill in the schedule lent added weight to these
rumors. There had grown in the regiment a stubborn pride
in the name "Artillery," and no one wanted to
be taken away from the "big guns" that were
always arriving from somewhere and never came. With all
its drawbacks, Camp Upton was the proving ground for all
the regimental, company, and battery spirit that was to
be such an important factor abroad. If Camp Upton did not
turn out finished artillerymen, it at least made
fighters.
The date of moving
came, late the night of April 21st, and early the morning
of the 22d. After seven long months at Camp Upton, and
with many changes from the original line-up, the regiment
quietly emerged from those second "homes" on
Fifth Avenue. With a peculiar silence, officers and men
filed out of each bleak barrack for perhaps the last
time; the rolls were called by flashlamp, the lights were
extinguished, and the regiment tramped the resounding
road to the station in a new frame of mind. No one in
Speonk or Moriches had any idea that troops were leaving
for Europe so well did the dark conceal the exodus. The
wonderful clapboard city had served its primary purpose.
Its inhabitants were prepared to board the argosy for
battle -the first National Army Division to do so.
A short train ride
to Long Island City; a ferry trip to Hoboken; a last look
at New York's skyline from the river, and the regiment
pulled into the looming shadows of the sterns of two
steamships. One was a little freighter, the Mercury, and
the other, a monster, the Leviathan, formerly the German
Vaterland. The men had visions of mal de mer on the old
Mercury, for she looked as though she might make Albany,
but never France! Finally, amid a flurry of hot coffee
and crullers from the Red Cross, the regiment trooped up
the gangplank of the Leviathan ready to sail for France.
KENNETH O'BRIEN,
First Lieutenant, 306th F. A.