Battery E in France Part 6

Two days later, September 22, we crawled out of our tents at 3 a. m. to carry 100 rounds per gun from the piles along the road back of the position. From 4 to 5:45 the battery fired a slow bombardment and then a barrage till 6:30, to accompany our infantry's highly successful raid of Marinbois Farm, strongly held by the enemy. About noon a few rounds were fired on an enemy working party.

At 3:30 a. m., September 23, at the cry, "Normal barrage," from Kulicek, then on watch at the rocket post, the guard in each gun pit woke the men sleeping in their pup-tents in the bushes behind. Hastily pulling on our shoes, we dashed out into a drizzling rain, and fired about 100 rounds per gun in the next two hours. A raiding party of American troops and one of the enemy had accidentally stumbled on each other in the darkness. The following night there was heavy firing on both sides, and the battery was aroused twice, but fired little either time. Both sides, it seemed, were uneasy in antic.i.p.ation of the great drive that began September 26.

Though the actual drive on this date was northward, by troops west of Verdun, the preliminary cannonading stretched along the line facing eastward, south of Verdun, as well, thus concealing from the enemy the actual line of attack until it was too late for him to concentrate his forces. Battery E, firing from 11:30 p. m. till 6:30 a. m., the morning of September 26, expended about 1,500 rounds in this ruse, our infantry having been withdrawn from the front lines, in antic.i.p.ation of heavy counterbombardment.

Perhaps the worst task on this night was that of the drivers on the caissons which carried the sh.e.l.ls from the railroad track to the position. The haul was short, but the mud was deep and heavy. They made trip after trip, using every possible means of urging the horses to their task. But when the last load had been carried, about 3 a. m., the horses were so exhausted that they could not pull the empty caissons through the long stretch of gumbo on the way back to the horse lines.

When the gun crews had ceased firing, therefore, the cannoneers went to the drivers' a.s.sistance. The latter lay, dead asleep, on top of the caissons, while the horses munched in the bushes at the roadside. By much shouting and more pushing, the men at last got the caissons past the wallow of gumbo to the hard road, where pulling was easy for the horses.

On the night of the 27th the battery moved to the front edge of the woods. It was another struggle against heavy mud, and morning came ere the second platoon was finally in position. The two platoons were about half a kilometre apart, Lieutenant Leprohon commanding the first, and Lieutenant Lombardi the second. Brush and trees had to be cut down to permit firing without danger of a sh.e.l.l bursting prematurely in the tree tops in front of the guns. Gun pits were commenced, proving a difficult task in the sticky clay full of wiry roots. But these were not finished by us. After three days here, the battery was relieved by artillery of the 89th Division, and started on the cross country hike to the Argonne, whence had come a hurry call for the tired veterans of the 42nd Division to aid the troops held up at one part of the line by terrific resistance on the part of the Germans.

The horse lines, near Nonsard, occupied one of the many elaborate camps which the Germans had constructed in the vicinity. Boughs had been used with the lavishness of a millionaire building an elaborate rustic garden. Walks, roads, fences, shacks, ornamental gateways, were all of this material, in camps covering acre after acre. Piles of empty hogsheads, and wicker tables and benches, gave evidence that the enemy troops had not lived an overhard life while they had been here.

The battery pulled out of the horse-lines at 8 p. m., October 1, and hiked without stop till after midnight. After covering thirty kilometres, the battalion pulled in at an old German remount camp, near Ambly, alongside the ca.n.a.l. The following night the distance was shorter, but progress was slow and waits were long--during which the drivers fell asleep on their horses with blankets over their shoulders, and the dismounted men dozed in the gra.s.s at the side of the road, mindless of cold and damp. At 6 in the morning came the climb up the hill into the Camp du Bois de Meuse, where the whole 67th Brigade encamped.

Spending the day of September 3 there, we made the next journey by daylight on September 4, rising at 4:45 and pulling out on the road at 8. Our way led past the many camps where the French troops had been a.s.sembled to engage in the terrible struggles about Verdun, and past fields, at Vadelaincourt, where the red crosses of French dead seemed to grow thick as wheat. A little beyond Rampont, we pulled into another camp, in Brocourt woods, where we spent the succeeding day greasing the carriage axles and cleaning the firing mechanism. On October 6, the brigade moved forward up the hills from Recicourt, through Avocourt, razed to a mere pile of bricks and mortar, over roads still in process of mending by engineer battalions, and that afternoon into a wide valley, pock-marked with sh.e.l.l holes and bearing a desolate look, emphasized by the stark black tree trunks, stripped of their branches, as though the whole area had been swept by a blaze. This was what was left of the forest of Avocourt. Occasional sh.e.l.ls burst on the ridge ahead, and orders were strict for every man to dig a hole for his bunk that night.

CHAPTER VII

THROUGH THE ARGONNE TO SEDAN

At nightfall October 7, the battery took the road over the hill toward Cierges in the rain and darkness. The position lay on a hillside not far from gun pits where a wrecked gun carriage and other debris showed how thoroughly a preceding battery had been sh.e.l.led out. From these gun pits the cannoneers carried abandoned ammunition all next day, while the pieces in turn kept up a bombardment of fifty rounds an hour.

At mess, October 8, in the thicket near the windmill, the men first saw the newspapers bearing the news of Germany's acceptance of President Wilson's "Fourteen Points". Many rumors had come to their ears of the Kaiser's abdication, of separate peace by Austria and Turkey, of Germany's surrender, etc. This was the first intimation of the facts, and gave rise to much speculation. There was little opportunity for speculation that night, however, for mess was scarcely over when sh.e.l.ls bursting in the field and along the roads drove everyone to cover. A couple of hours later, the limbers came up, and the guns pulled out on the road. But the caissons were not loaded and drawn through the miry field so easily. Teams, after pulling out one caisson, had to go back to a.s.sist another. Day was breaking when Captain Robbins, calling the sergeants together, announced that the battery's mission was to accompany the advance of infantry of the 32d Division that morning, and haste must be made to reach the appointed spot in time.

So the carriages were taken ahead at a trot, the cannoneers following as rapidly as they could, along sh.e.l.led roads, through the ruined village of Nantillois, pa.s.sing the infantry arising from their roadside holes for breakfast. A heavy fog hid the battery from the observation of the enemy and so removed some of the danger of the undertaking. Sh.e.l.ls burst frequently on the hillside to the right and on the road in front of us, along which long files of infantry advanced to the attack. When the other batteries of the regiment came up, in the afternoon of October 9, they were met by heavy sh.e.l.ling on the road, four sh.e.l.ls falling directly in Battery A.

On the night of October 11 the battery pulled back to the horse-lines, which had moved to the left, near Cheppy. Arriving in the morning, the battery had only a few hours' rest, going forward again in the afternoon, to the left of our former positions, to relieve the 1st Division. Blocked roads, rain and cold, slow going and long stops, pushing carriages up long hills--it was an old story, relieved a little that night by a battalion of engineers who turned out of their shacks along the road and pushed our guns up the longest and steepest slope. By morning we were digging trail pits in a flat field on the right bank of the River Aire just behind the town of Fleville. In the trees along the river were batteries of the 320th F. A., belonging to the 82d Division, whose infantry occupied Fleville. Between them and our position were holes dug for shelter littered with blankets, gas masks, helmets and other equipment of the German soldiers who had occupied them not long before. Opposite us the Aire was dammed to form a pool, alongside which was a sign, "Schwimmung verboten".

Though we had had almost no sleep for two days, we dug all day October 13, to be ready to fire when called upon. To obtain an elevation of 25 degrees, the trail pit must go nearly three feet deep in an arc eight or ten feet long. If the ground offered much resistance, there was a heavy job for the five or six men of the gun's crew. Fortunately we slept long that night, with only an interruption of two hours' guard for each man.

At 6:30 next morning we began firing at a rate of 80 rounds per hour, continuing, with gradually decreasing rate, until 3:30 that afternoon, expending a total of about 2,300 rounds. In this attack, our infantry broke through the formidable Kriemhilde Stellung, taking Hill 288 by noon. During the succeeding days the battery fired constantly. On the 16th the infantry captured the Cote de Chatillon in a whirlwind attack, taking also Musard Farm.

The enemy sent plenty in return at the same time. We had forewarning of this the day we arrived, when the field in front of us was full of smoking holes. The constant procession of guns and wagon trains up the road on our right drew fire. So did the 155mm. rifles that thundered and blazed on the other side of the road. So did the exposed horse-lines of the batteries in the trees ahead of us. At first an occasional shower of earth was all that disturbed us. A few days later the enemy dumped a few "ash-cans" or "freight-cars," as they were picturesquely called, not many hundreds of yards from us. These, with a thunderous, ear-splitting crash, sent huge black geysers of earth and smoke, scattering fragments far and wide. Then came a mysterious missile that seemed to explode twice, and burst near us almost as soon as we had heard its warning scream. One of these, striking a box of fuses in Battery F, caused considerable unrest. Next the batteries ahead were the target for so much sh.e.l.ling that they and their horse-lines moved out. Our relief was shortlived. On the morning of October 20 while the men were still asleep beneath their pup tents, in shelter holes approximately two feet deep, big sh.e.l.ls began to drop along the muddy trail that ran from the highroad to our position. The fragments that cut camouflage ropes and pierced fuse-boxes were forgotten when it was learned that two sh.e.l.ls had struck amidst us squarely, both fortunately "duds". One buried itself in the ground alongside the trail of the second piece. The other, piercing a pup tent in the fourth section, scorched its way through Becker's blankets, and disappeared into the earth, leaving him benumbed in the foot which the sh.e.l.l had so narrowly missed and much confused in the head as to what might happen next. All morning the boys could only gaze at the hole in the ground and talk about E battery's horseshoe.

That afternoon, the battery moved back about 300 yards, enough to escape the enemy's sh.e.l.ls if his aeroplanes had discovered our old position, to which the morning's greeting lent belief.

At this time Lieutenant Waters, returned from Battery B, was in command, having succeeded Captain Robbins a few days before, when the latter took Major Redden's place at the head of the battalion. Lieutenants Leprohon and Ennis were in charge of the first and second platoons, respectively, and Lieutenant Neiberg was in command at the horse-lines. A few days previously Sergeant Jones left the Fourth Section to go to officers'

school, together with Sergeant Kilner, who had been in charge at the horse-lines since his return from the hospital. Corporal Donald Brigham succeeded to the charge of the Fourth Section, Colvin becoming gunner.

After we had moved back, the mechanics improvised a bath-house for the battery by the conjunction of a big wooden tub and a cauldron to heat the water in a shack beside the stream. In a time and place where baths--to say nothing of the temperature of the water used--were an extreme rarity, we were greatly thankful that the departing enemy had left these articles for this valuable use. The cabbage patches in this vicinity came to good purpose for the battery kitchen, also.

On the evening of October 26, the Second Battalion moved up through Fleville and to the right, near Sommerance. This spot is historically known by the battery as "Ga.s.sy Gulch". Our guns were located behind a line of bushes along a sharp embankment ten to fifteen feet high that descended to a dirt road. Along this road were lined American 155mm.

rifles. In front of them, on the gentle slope to a low crest ahead, were several French batteries. To our right were 75's, 155mm. howitzers, and 155mm. rifles indiscriminately mixed. The whole 67th Brigade, some batteries of heavy corps artillery, and several French batteries were concentrated in this little valley.

The dirt road in front and the high road, which ran at an angle behind, drew much fire, making the drivers' task in bringing up caissons of ammunition a dangerous one. On the day the battery moved up, a sh.e.l.l bursting close wounded Cook and killed the horse under him. But Sergeant Lucius Brigham's coolness in cutting out the dead horse and leading the hitch safely through prevented greater damage from the resulting confusion; for this work he was highly commended by the regimental commander.

Several days later this road was heavily ga.s.sed. All traffic was held back till sh.e.l.ling should let up. On this account no rations had gone up from the horse-lines the day before. When, on the second attempt, Rosse insisted on making the trip, an M. P. stopped him:

"You can't go up that road. You'll never get through the gas and sh.e.l.ling."

An officer argued, too, "Don't take that road. It's too dangerous."

"The boys gotta hava the rash," insisted Jerry imperturbably. And he lashed up his horse, and galloped past with the ration cart. When he arrived at the position, his eyes and nose were streaming from the effect of the gas, and he could scarcely see. But the boys, "they gotta the rash!" For this act the regimental commander highly commended Rosse, remarking on his "high sense of duty and exceptional courage."

Gas alarms were frequent at night. The itching in one's throat left no doubt of there being actual danger present. The favorable wind carried away the noxious fumes of several sh.e.l.ls that burst at the edge of the flat-tops. The boys dug their bunks deep to escape the fragments. Near the machine gunners, the sh.e.l.ls burst thick, and both Donahue and Harry Overstreet were sent to the hospital with bad poison burns. Practically everyone at the position suffered a little from gas, some in one way and some in another, but, since they were afflicted in no violent way, they stuck to their work, disregarding minor discomforts.

Friday morning, November 1, was the big barrage in which Battery E fired its last shot of the war. At 3:30 a. m. began the preliminary fire, at 100 rounds per hour. Then followed the barrage, with first reduced charge sh.e.l.l, then smoke sh.e.l.l and normal charge sh.e.l.l, and finally high velocity sh.e.l.l, reaching a range of nearly 12,000 metres when the firing ceased, at 1:30 p. m. The total for each gun was over 1,000 rounds.

This barrage was fired in support of the infantry of the 2nd Division, which had relieved our own infantry. After the marine brigade had broken through the Freya Stellung in the morning, capturing the villages of St.

Georges and Landres-et-St. Georges, the brigade of regulars kept on going, driving the enemy out of range of our guns.

By Sunday the enemy was so far away that even the heavy guns about us had to cease firing. The Frenchmen in the neighboring batteries were gloriously drunk in the prospect of a speedy victory and early peace.

That night the battery pulled out, not to rest, as we had been expectantly hoping in the midst of fatigue and discomfort from gas, etc., but to go ahead in pursuit. Our infantry had relieved the 78th Division and were to march to Sedan. To make matters worse for the dismounted men, an order was issued that each man must carry his full pack upon his back, to lighten the load for the worn out horses. So we staggered up the mud roads to Thenorgues, where we spent a sleepless day Monday moving carriages here and there to accommodate the throng of traffic. In the afternoon we moved on, through Buzancy to Harricourt, where we made camp at dark, just as enemy planes dropped a succession of bombs on the road over which we had just pa.s.sed.

Next morning we learned that Battery E had indeed fired its last shot of the war. So low had the number of horses become in the brigade that it was determined to send forward only the guns of two batteries in each battalion, turning over to them the horses and drivers of the batteries left behind. This wise provision made it possible for the 149th to be constantly up in support of the infantry in the long chase northward, when other artillery outfits were straggling along miles in the rear.

Since Battery E's commander was ranked in seniority by the captains of both D and F batteries, our guns were left behind.

Although the second battalion did not fire on this pursuit, the trip was an extremely severe one, entailing little rest, scant opportunity for meals, and constant exposure to sh.e.l.l fire on the road. The hardships of the journey are engraven deeply in the memories of Battery E's drivers.

Near Cherery, November 7, they were caught by heavy sh.e.l.l fire fully horsed and limbered up, but got off the road without injury or confusion. Worst of all was the night of November 9, at Bulson. As the batteries entered the town, the guns of the enemy seemed trained by direct observation on the cross roads, and sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l fell directly in the path of the column. The casualties were the heaviest of any day in the regiment's history. The death of George Hama caused the deepest sorrow in the battery, heavier even when the first shock of the news was past and the loss came to be actually felt. That he should have gone through all the service of the battery, to be stricken down on almost the last day of hostilities, was tragic indeed, but the fact that he was gone, no matter how or when, was to his fellows the greater tragedy. McLean and Loring Schatz were wounded the same night.

Lieutenant Leprohon went to the hospital, having been severely ga.s.sed when he tore off his mask to guide the batteries up the sh.e.l.led road, winning the admiration of all the men by his courage and energy.

In the meantime the remainder of the battery, at Harricourt, had cleaned out for their quarters German barracks and an old stone building that had been a prison pen. Guard duty and care of the few horses left occupied their time. So fast were the troops advancing to the northward that communication was slight, and only the vaguest rumors of what was happening ahead reached the men now left in the rear. Reports of an armistice were so persistent that they were believed by some, days before the actual event, and disbelieved by others even when confirmed.

Every night glares, bonfires and signal rockets indicated celebration at some point on the horizon. But the men at Harricourt could not give credence to such good news while the drivers were still gone. These men returned to the battery November 10. Upon arriving at the gates of Sedan, the 42nd Division, occupying the suburb of Wadelincourt, had yielded to the French the honor of entering this historic city, one battalion of our infantry accompanying the French general on that occasion. At retreat November 11, Captain Waters formally announced the signing of the armistice. But there was a sting in the good tidings in the announcement that the 42nd Division would probably go into Germany as a part of the Army of Occupation, which killed such glad reports as that the Rainbow Division would sail from Bordeaux immediately upon the cessation of hostilities, and other equally welcome though groundless bits of rumor.

CHAPTER VIII

HIKING INTO GERMANY

On November 15, Battery E began the long hike into Germany, a total of 350 kilometres, the dismounted men covering it all on foot. During the first few days they carried full packs, but later these were put on the carriages, as before the order at Sommerance. The first day's journey was only seven kilometres, through Buzancy, to Imecourt. There the battery received forty men from the 80th Division, as replacements, to bring the organization up to full strength. They brought with them 116 horses, to replace our old ones, which, such as could work, had been turned over to the First Battalion.

After fitting the harness to these new horses next morning, we made another short hike, to a wide valley near Ancreville, where we spent a cold, windy night in pup tents. These slight shelters, however, the men had learned to make very comfortable protection against the elements, by banking soil about the edges and covering the open end with slickers or shelter-halves.

The following morning the second and third pieces were fitted with new tubes, and the caissons were loaded with ammunition before the battery set out again, this time on a march of twenty-two kilometres. Crossing the river on pontoons at Dun-sur-Meuse, and winding our weary way over hills on the opposite side through interminable woods in the descending darkness, we came to the town of Breheville, surrounded by hundreds of lights and bonfires of the brigade camping for the night. Fortunately we had billets in the village, and thereafter always were billeted in towns, though sometimes our sleeping quarters were only barns and hay mows, not remarkable for either comfort or shelter. At Breheville we stayed for two days, receiving some new clothes and cleaning up at the bath house contrived out of the stone structure where ordinarily the housewives of the town do their washing.

November 20 we made another long journey, to Thonne les Pres, under the fortified heights of Montmedy-Haut, and the next day a still longer one into Belgian territory. At Montmedy we had opportunity to see how far the Germans had carried their occupation of the land they had held for the previous four years. An electric power plant lit the streets and houses of the town, the "mairie" and other buildings had been converted into hospitals, and extensive railroad yards, gun repair shops and factories spoke of important activity here by the enemy.

The first Belgian towns we entered, Lamarteau, Dompartin and the city of Virton, were gaily decorated with arches of greenery, festoons of paper lanterns, and flags of the Allied nations, in welcome of the American troops. We came at night to St. Leger, where Battery E was quartered in the school house.

The following night found us in a similar building at Arlon, on which the words, "Volkschule fur Madschen," were painted over those of the French name. Arlon still showed the marks of having been a wealthy city, of fine buildings and a wide variety of shops. The barbarian ravages which had desolated the northern part of Belgium had not spread here.

But the scarcity of food and other supplies, and the citizens' accounts of extortion and cruelty, revealed the same spirit of oppression.