At Plattsburg Part 15

(Resting on the road.)

We have been marching at hot speed, having no one to set the pace for Kirby, now that at last we have pa.s.sed I company. For a while we had to wait on them while they drove the enemy, hearing their firing, and at every halt sending out patrols. At last we drew near the firing line, which had been pretty hard at work, but which drew aside by the roadside (being either dead or out of ammunition) to let us go by, while we acclaimed them as having died heroically in our defense. Then came urgent work on our part, till now, as we halt, the platoon leader is telling us that we are to go forward over a wire fence, deploy behind a stone wall, and wait for the field battery to sh.e.l.l the enemy.

--And now we have crawled through the wire, and are comfortably watching the lieutenant of artillery while, with his instruments all fixed, he is getting the range of the enemy, these, you know, being the cavalry, who every day, I suppose, will precede us out of camp and try to make it lively for us during the morning. A voice asks, "Where are the cavalry?"

and someone answers "Intrenched," which is not so foolish as it sounds, they being equipped for the purpose, and being drilled to fight dismounted. But intrenching should not be necessary in a country provided, as this one is, with stone walls. Other companies are deploying on our left, and we wait before that most dangerous of all attempts, a direct frontal attack. The enemy, the captain has just explained, is a half mile away across a slight depression. At Bunker Hill our men waited till they could see the whites of the red-coats' eyes. At Fredericksburg our attacking men were helpless at a hundred yards. But here as soon as we have crossed the wall we shall be exposed to a deadly fire, not only of rifles, but of machine guns. Of these the enemy have two on motor tricycles, and it is understood that the call of their sirens is a signal that they are in action.

(And again resting.)

We have the machine guns, mother dear. The cavalry got away, all but three or four of them. This was how it went.

When the field artillery had sufficiently pounded the enemy (and having but few rounds this did not last very long) we were given the order to advance. First we went over the wall,--and you must remember that every fence in this country, stone, snake, or otherwise, is decorated with barbed wire--and formed our line, lying flat, a couple of rods beyond it.

Now we put in practice for the whole battalion the tactics we had studied by platoons, sending men forward from the right by squads in rushes, making a new line by degrees, always keeping a constant fire on the enemy--for we had a hundred rounds today, so that if we were decently accurate we should make him too nervous to be very dangerous in return.

We went about fifty yards at a time, our sergeants and platoon leaders in the rear, behind them the captain and his orderlies and behind all the major and his aides. Certain officers with white bands on their arms, who ventured unconcernedly into the line of fire, I made out to be umpires judging this game of war. For I find, mother dear, that this is earnest for the officers as well as ourselves--we and the enemy have maps, we know the general conditions, and then each acts as in time of war, trying to get the better of the opponent. So that if an officer has properly trained his men, and if in addition he shows good judgment, then he can feel that he is advancing in his profession. The major, working for the first time today with a battalion under him (for last camp he was but a captain) was as keen at the work as if real bullets had been flying across the little valley. Meanwhile the umpires, studying the strategy of both sides, are themselves learning.

Well, we got forward rush by rush, firing as we lay waiting, getting ready at the word, and then following Bannister as he quartered forward to the right or left to join the new line. As we neared the stone wall behind which the enemy was firing we could see his white hat-bands, when to my disgust along came an umpire and ruled out the rear rank. Wanting to be in at the death, I changed places with Corder, who was "all in,"

and so I finished out the final charge, when the captain came through the line with a rush and we up and followed him yelling. The enemy very obligingly vacated the wall as we approached, and all we saw of the cavalry was their dust as they departed, except a squad whom the umpires called back.

One machine gun I did not see, nor have I heard how it was captured. But one was stalled a little distance behind the wall, and I followed the captain as he made for it. The two men on it were swearing wonderfully, being regulars; the captain snapped his pistol in the air as he ran, and I likewise fired my gun upwards, it being the rule of this campaign neither to fire nor to present the bayonet at close quarters. Seeing they could not get away, the men were actually ready to fight, and I think had we been rookies we might have had to sc.r.a.p for it; but seeing an officer they saluted and sullenly submitted.

(In camp near Crossroads 75, south of Sciota, N. Y., Tuesday evening.)

I am sitting on a piece of canvas, being one among a dozen or more men outside the Y. M. C. A. tent, all writing. Men constantly come between me and the light or step on my outlying portions; there is much cheerful talking and laughing, and all about is the usual bustle of the camp.

We arrived at camp late, as battle-scarred warriors, and found the peaceful first battalion already encamped. At once we pitched tents and then hastily fed; at home, after hours of such exertion, I should have had a half hour's rest before eating. But the food was ready and hot; if I did not take it at once I could not get it at all; so my stomach took the risk, and I had my meal first and my rest afterward. Then a wash in oh! such a soft-bottomed sluggish brook, where many shaved, and others to my amazement cleaned their teeth. For that ceremony I keep my canteen water, which is served out to us at the head of the company street in proper dippers by orderlies; it is all I shall have, I foresee, both for drink and for absolutely necessary washing. We have better holding-ground for our tent-pins tonight, but the sky is cloudless and again we have not trenched. There are northern lights--a change in weather? The hay today cost but ten cents, and the adjutant a.s.sures us of that tariff in future.

Imagine the camp as yesterday, and me well. Love from

d.i.c.k.

EXTRACT FROM THE LETTER OF ERASMUS CORDER, a.s.sISTANT-PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, HIGH PRIVATE IN COMPANY H, 10TH TRAINING REGIMENT, TO HIS WIFE. SAME DATE

... Instead of yesterday's steady marching, with the first battalion driving the enemy away for our convenience, duties were today reversed, and our battalion took the advance-guard work, ending in a very b.l.o.o.d.y skirmish, in which, I regret to report, one dear to you was slain. We marched--and it was marching!--at a good pace after the first few miles, having no one ahead to hold us back except when we had to duck into the roadside ditches to avoid machine-gun fire. Our advance guard had died gallantly and cheered (jeered?) us as we went forward to dislodge the enemy. The problem was explained to us: the enemy was 800 yards ahead, having command of a shallow valley, which we must cross. This we did by rushes, squads or platoons at a time, three companies abreast no sooner achieving a new line than they sent forward more feelers. In this action it was very interesting for a time to simulate real firing, shooting with blank cartridges at an enemy behind a stone wall.

And yet shooting from behind hard heaps of stone, or lying on rough ground, through gra.s.s and leaves that obscured the sights, all the time troubled by a heavy pack that burdened the shoulders, poked the hat over the eyes, and hampered the free action of the arms, began to wear on me.

Try as I may, I cannot master the little sidewise shift of the pack which the captain showed us, and which G.o.dwin says makes shooting p.r.o.ne "just as easy!" Looking at the other men, I often saw them flop on their faces to rest; they were working as hard as on the range. The pretense of firing, when our cartridges were gone, took away some of the excitement.

Then at about the fifth dash, which the others took with some briskness but which I had to finish at a slow jog, I began to get pumped. When the first sergeant asked me how I was I told him that I was shot through both lungs. Nevertheless, I finished (though at a walk) the next to last charge, but our dash had been so exposed that, by the time I had thrown myself panting on some particularly jagged stones, an umpire came along and announced that all rear-rank men were to fall out, of course as being dead. G.o.dwin was disgusted, and evidently seeing my envy in my face, swapped places with me. Never was anyone so willing to be killed. Quite at my leisure I watched the spirited advance of the thin line of o. d.

men to storm the enemy's position. And I was perfectly willing not to be killed twice.

Our little club of middle-aged men still holds its impromptu sessions, members comparing experiences and solicitously inquiring as to each other's condition. So far as I can see we are keeping up pretty well, except for the ability to make such awful repeated dashes as today's work required. And even then a few minutes' rest sets us on our feet again.

Pitching the tents, making camp, etc., is now routine work. The encampment is as picturesque as before. Tomorrow night we also spend here; whether or not we shall mercifully be permitted to leave the tents pitched, the morning will decide. But I am well, and blisterless, and refreshed, and tomorrow shall be ready to die again.

Lovingly,

ERASMUS.

FROM PRIVATE G.o.dWIN TO HIS MOTHER

Sciota, Wednesday the 27th.

DEAR MOTHER:--

You need not worry about my sleeping warm. When I go to bed I take off my shoes and leggings, put on an extra pair of socks, and crawl into the bag which each afternoon I make up afresh by pinning the folded blankets together with the biggest safety pins you ever saw, and b.u.t.toning my poncho around them. Over me thus there is the poncho, and as many layers of blankets as I please, up to five. Besides I have two sweaters, if I need them. So I sleep snug.

This morning it is pleasant and windless, as I wait for the order to start.

An instance of the change of orders under which we labor. (As I recall the Civil War memoirs that I have read, it seems to me that conditions are much the same.) We were a.s.sembled in line at 5.25, reported, stacked arms, and were ordered (remember that we are to camp on this same ground tonight) "Strike tents and make packs. Make up blanket rolls and squad bags, and bring them to the head of the street." Oh, the disgust! The orders were proper for the first battalion, which marches on to Altona today; but for us it seemed needless. But the promptest fell to work, took down their tents, and began to make up the packs. Then the word came travelling down the street, "Leave tents standing!" Luckily Bann and I had not got to the work of striking the tent, and so we jubilated while some others cussed. But we went on with making up the rolls and bags.

Then the order was transmitted, "Leave blankets and extra kits in tents!"

Perhaps someone blundered in the first place, and we got the order intended for the first battalion. And I do not complain, for today we travel light, with many things not in our packs.

The call has come, "Squad leaders to the head of the street." That means a talk preparatory to setting out. So I have put on my pack, so as to wait without worry. Having marched very dry yesterday, and a pebble which I hastily scooped up proving large and rough, I have provided myself (per one buzzard) with a package of chewing gum. Oh for the old-fashioned spruce, with no sweetness or artificial flavor!--The first battalion, having packed entirely, is a.s.sembling for the march. My map is b.u.t.toned in my shirt, for consultation at halts. The day is warm, with the wind from the west; but there are gathering clouds, and I am going to use the time which is left in digging with my bayonet a ditch around the tent.

(In West Sciota? At any rate, an inhabited crossroads.) I am lying on my back in the wet gra.s.s, while the captain explains that the sound at a little distance, as of a lot of carpenters nailing at the boarding of a new house, is our patrols firing at a party of cavalry that is opposing our advance.

We left our tents b.u.t.toned, and started out in gray weather. I was glad that I had, with bayonet and fingers, dug a shallow ditch along the upper side of our pup and across the front, when this light rain began. It is not bad, and so long as I have my pack between me and the ground I cannot get chilled. Again and again I have used it so, and have seen fellows at halts napping all around me. Truly the pack is a life saver.--"Fall in!"

(North of Sciota, on the road to Mooers, near crossroads 79, the weather now dry.) We are resting after a skirmish, and as my position is somewhat more comfortable, since I am lolling in a ditch instead of lying on my back, perhaps these jottings will be more legible than the last. The skirmish went thus.

We left our resting-place at crossroads 72, and followed the popping of our advance guard, I company, while at the same time we heard at a greater distance the heavy firing of the first battalion as it fought its way westward toward Altona, we ourselves going north. As we advanced beyond a corner, suddenly fire from the left broke out upon the column behind us. At once we were halted, and Captain Kirby, ranging down the line of the company, picked out our squad and sent us at the double over the fence and into the field north of the road that we had pa.s.sed, our enemy being in a thick wood to the south of it. Here we streamed along, poor Corder as usual soon being pumped and dropping behind, while eager David was only kept from outdistancing the rest by a sharp word from Knudsen. We scrambled through a wire fence, then in a pasture with scattered heavy cedars we a.s.sembled behind a tree to survey the ground, all of us pouring out our advice upon poor Bann--to go to the road, to go further west, to plunge into the woods and attack the enemy by ourselves.

This last from David, who is keen at every fight. Someone urging to send a message back to the captain, Bann got out the brand-new despatch book and pencil which since the conference this morning had been sticking out of his pocket, but put them up again for lack of something definite to say. So he took us across the road and into the field behind the enemy's wood, where it being evident that the foe had no reserves, Bann began once more to write.

Now we heard Kirby's voice, who having led the company along the road, and finding himself plainly behind the enemy's fire, was putting the men, in squad columns, into the wood to search them out. We climbed the wire fence and followed through the densest undergrowth, where poor Corder, stumbling behind and having to protect his gla.s.ses, often found himself quite out of sight of the man in front. But we were too late. We heard shouts ahead, the firing ceased, and when we desperately broke through the last of the thicket and found ourselves in the open, there stood a line of men with white bands on their hats (the sign of the opposing forces) quietly regarding us. Rumor said that they were captured, and Squad 9, being first on the ground, was feeling proud of their work. Then the rumor ran that not only was the enemy not captured, but we were killed. Squad 9 was cursing, "not loud but deep," when the captain came along and was pa.s.sionately appealed to. "We got them," he a.s.sured us.

"They were firing away from us when we broke through the wood. A single picket on that flank, firing a single shot on seeing us, would have saved them. And besides, we have their horses. Sergeant Barker has just come in reporting that he has the bunch." Satisfied, we marched out to our present resting-place.

The cavalry has just emerged from their unsuccessful ambush, with the two machine guns, and have started northward in a hurry, an umpire warning them, "You have only five minutes before we start after you." The men around me are laughing and talking, well content, and I have just seen the major congratulating the captain on a brisk piece of work.

(In camp again, and settled for the night at our old tents, the weather having cleared.)

A cavalryman (by the way, there was pointed out to me today the fellow with the broken jaw, jouncing along with the rest, and looking neither thin nor pale) a cavalryman has just settled down to discuss the skirmish with us. "We got some beautiful shots at you fellows. In our first position we let the point of I company walk by, and then fired into them at about fifty yards. I company drove us, and then we settled in that little wood, with the machine guns. I company's flanking patrol came right up to the edge of the woods without seeing us. We let them go by and then fired into you. Didn't you duck into the ditches quick!" He is talking now of a cavalryman's work. "Here you fellows are grumbling because you have a gun to clean. I wish I got off as easily. I have my gun and my equipment; it takes a lot of time, and today I had to clean and water two horses, another fellow's and mine. The other man got hurt, one of the regulars. His horse fell on him."

The major, at conference, told us that he and Captain Kirby had been expecting an attack at that point, as the lay of the land was right for it. They were surprised when the flanking patrol found nothing.

Our next work was quite different, and ill.u.s.trates the fact that the man in the ranks can only tell what he sees, and often cannot understand that. On our fresh advance northward our company was the advance guard, I company falling to our rear. The first platoon marched ahead as the "point," with communicating files, and we watched its operations for a while as we followed along.

The work of the "point," my dear mother, when you are advancing to engage the enemy, is one of the most dangerous in warfare. When the Germans sent out their advance guards as they overran Belgium, they considered that the men in each point had been given their death warrants. The object of the point, as it proceeds along the road, is to hunt for the enemy and engage him. The men of the detail march at intervals of about twenty-five yards on alternate sides of the road, the corporal about halfway of the squad, and the rearmost, or "get-away man," having the task of falling back as soon as any serious obstacle is encountered, in order to communicate with the support. As in enemy's country the roads are likely to be waylaid, patrols are sent out to investigate any flanking hill, or wood, or group of buildings, behind which a party could be hiding. You can imagine the grim interest in trying to walk into an ambuscade. I company's patrols having failed to locate the enemy in his last concealment, we were particularly anxious to make no such error.

As we marched up each rise in ground I could see the point ahead of us, and the patrols working their way through the country to the right and left of the road. As the point naturally went faster than the patrols it would gradually leave them behind, the corporal or sergeant commanding would send back for more men, the message would come through the communicating files, and men would be sent ahead for the work. Patrols outdistanced, and still finding nothing, would drop back to the road and rejoin their command as soon as they could.

After a while this work of the point had used up the first platoon, and began to eat into ours. It was then recalled and our platoon took its place, with Squad 6 as point, Squad 7 providing the patrols and communicating files, and our squad as immediate reserve. Word coming for more men, Clay and Reardon were sent forward, and I saw them despatched off to the right, Clay toward a nearby sugar-bush, a little grove with its sugar house at its edge, and Reardon further forward, toward a suspicious hollow behind which was a railroad embankment which might conceal a regiment. I was plainly among the next to go, and waited impatiently. Then we halted, and remained so for some time.