In the Flash Ranging Service Part 3

CHAPTER VI

The Great St. Mihiel Drive

It was exactly at 12:01 o'clock on the morning of September 12th, when the great St. Mihiel drive began, and when all the preparation of which I told in the preceding chapter was brought into play in the first great independent movement of American troops, which was to give the Germans a warning of what they were to expect from the army from across the seas, of which they had so sneeringly spoken. The drive opened with a demoralizing barrage, the greatest of the kind that, up to that time, had ever been laid down by artillery. It greatly exceeded in the number of guns brought into action and in amount of ammunition used, any barrage that either the Germans or the Allies had, prior to that time, attempted. It was like letting h.e.l.l loose upon the Germans in the salient at all points within the range of our guns. Language is inadequate to describe this barrage and none except those who were actual partic.i.p.ants in the drive will be able to visualize in the mind the terror that General Pershing's guns belched forth on that momentous occasion. Those who have imaginative minds may be able to form some faint conception of what this great battle was like, if they can picture thousands of guns--heavy, medium and light--belching forth their fire with ceaseless regularity for six long hours. It was pitch dark when the first guns opened with their roar, but it was not long before the heavens were lighted with a brilliant pyrotechnic display, something like elaborate Fourth of July fireworks, but multiplied by millions in intensity. The heavy artillery spit forth long flames as they were discharged. The long flash, the rapidity with which it is dashed from the gun muzzle, and its sudden disappearance, reminded me of a serpent's tongue. And serpents' tongues they were, indeed, to German hopes, for as sure as these are facts, the St. Mihiel drive sealed the doom of the despised Huns. As far as the eye could see, these flashes were being repeated at stated intervals, and in front of them were the smaller and more rapid flashes of the medium artillery; and adding their flame, smoke and noise to the din far out in front was the famous light artillery, which did such effective work throughout the war.

It was not long after the barrage began before the Germans began to throw star sh.e.l.ls. These were for the purpose of lighting up No Man's Land. They are thrown to a height of several hundred feet, and as they slowly descend, they burn a brilliant white light. These added to the brilliancy of the fireworks. The object of the Germans in throwing these star sh.e.l.ls was to keep No Man's Land lighted so as to be ready to repel our attack. They knew, of course, that our barrage was to be followed up with a charge, but they did not know at what hour it was to be launched. The star sh.e.l.ls were thrown so that they could not be taken unawares in the dark.

Far behind the line in Fritz' territory we could see our sh.e.l.ls bursting. The telltale flash meant that the Huns were getting a dose of severe medicine, though we could at that moment only guess at the destruction that was being wrought. Later we were to see the havoc worked by our accurate artillerymen.

The object of this demoralizing barrage was to break up the morale of the Germans and in general to pave the way for our infantry charge that was to follow. It shattered the German trenches, plowed through their barbed wire entanglements and kept those who survived in a state of great nervous tension, because they knew a great charge was to follow. Our guns were also trained on such objects as headquarters, railroads, heavy artillery emplacements, cross roads, ammunition dumps, aviation hangars, etc., from information that had previously been obtained by the Flash and Sound Ranging sections. The heavy artillery did great damage far in the rear. The medium artillery, not having the range of the heavy guns, did not reach so far back with its fire, but demoralized things generally wherever its sh.e.l.ls. .h.i.t. It also had for its purpose the breaking up of any attack that might be planned as a counter offensive. The light artillery is of smaller caliber and fires more rapidly. This did wonderful execution and was a great help in winning the war.

It was exactly 6 o'clock when the demoralizing barrage stopped, and it was followed by a protecting barrage. There is quite a difference between a demoralizing barrage and a protecting barrage. A demoralizing barrage is just what its name signifies, a demoralizing rain of sh.e.l.ls upon the enemy. A protecting barrage is for the purpose of protecting the infantry as it charges into the enemy's lines and it is raised slowly as the infantry advances so as to keep over the heads of the marching soldiers. As soon as the protecting barrage was fired in this drive, the first waves of infantry went over the top.

Most people have a misconception of what going over the top is. The prevailing idea is that a great ma.s.s of troops rush over the top and into the German trenches. What really occurs is this: The men climb out of the trenches at an ordinary pace in a thin line from six to ten feet apart. This is followed in a few seconds by another thin line about the same distance apart, and then another, and so on until there are thousands of men advancing over No Man's Land, but they are scattered over a large area. The object in scattering them is to reduce losses in case an enemy sh.e.l.l falls among them. I have seen a sh.e.l.l fall among men advancing this way without hitting any of them, and I have also seen several fall from a single sh.e.l.l. Another reason for these thin waves is the fact that when advancing in this formation the men offer a poorer target to the machine guns of the enemy, while in ma.s.s formation, a machine gun could mow down in a short time a whole company.

Just ahead of the waves of infantry in this drive, wiggled the tanks.

These c.u.mbersome, awkward, ugly but efficient machines were of great help to the foot soldiers. They not only made a path through the barbed wire entanglements that the artillery had not destroyed, but they hunted out and destroyed German machine gun nests, which were so dangerous to the infantry. The tanks had a very difficult task and they performed it well. Too much credit cannot be given to the tank crews. They were brave, skillful and good fighters. It is true they were in a measure protected behind the steel walls of the machine, but, on the other hand, they were exposed to heavy fire, it was hot and disagreeable within and in case of being struck by a sh.e.l.l or running onto a mine, the horrors were worse than those to which other fighters were exposed. The greatest danger was that of being trapped within and burned to death in case a sh.e.l.l hits the gasoline tank; a number were destroyed in that manner. So I give full credit to the tank men for their heroic services--they braced the greatest dangers without knowing such a word as "fear."

As our boys went over the top they were given the protection of an aerial squadron. Only those who were advancing toward the Hun lines on that day, with full realization of their duties and their dangers, know what a feeling of protection these hovering planes gave us. They flew low, frequently just over the heads of the men, and poured their deadly machine gun fire into such of the Hun trenches as the artillery had not destroyed--and, no matter how thoroughly the artillery does its work, there is always plenty left for the other branches of the army to do. These daring airmen also dropped fishtail bombs on the Huns. These men were the bravest of the brave. They had the courage, grit and combative qualities of the lion. They are constantly in great danger. They are fired upon from below by enemy anti-aircraft guns, and frequently from above by enemy planes. They are also exposed, when they fly low, to rifle fire and machine guns and machines are frequently brought down by such fire. During a drive of this kind they also face the danger of running into their own barrage and are restricted as to the area in which they may manoeuver. We cannot give these fearless men of the flying corps too much praise for their work.

While men in all branches of the American army were brave and all did their duty, I think the airmen, like the tank men, deserve a special meed of praise for their daring, and when I say this, I intend in no way to detract from the bravery of the men in any other branch of the service.

The Flash Service, to which I belonged, was not a fighting unit. While we were heavily armed, so that we could defend ourselves and fight if necessary, we were not, in the strict sense of the word, combatants.

It was more important for us to keep the lines of communication in working order, to give the artillery the range on certain objects, to locate machine gun nests and direct fire upon them so they could be destroyed, than to fight, for there were sufficient numbers in other branches of the army for that purpose. But we did not overlook an opportunity to help our cause, and it is with a great deal of pleasure that I tell of a machine gun nest of thirteen men captured by three of the men of our detachment, though of a different post from mine. It was during the early morning of the first day of the drive. It should be stated that the American infantry advanced so rapidly that it frequently went right by carefully concealed machine gun nests. This was just what the Germans wanted them to do, because they opened fire from the rear and rained bullets on our men from two sides. The three men that captured the nest of which I am telling were just in back of the second wave of infantry that went over the top, following it up for the purpose of establishing our line of communication from front to rear. They came upon this nest as the Huns were preparing to fire at our advancing men. When they first located the nest the Americans had their revolvers carefully wrapped in greased coils and in their holsters, not expecting to use them--the greased coils being to keep the weapons from rusting from the dampness of the trenches. These resourceful American boys lost no time, however, in getting their weapons ready for use, and by a quick and intrepid manoeuver, they approached the Huns, covered them with their revolvers, and compelled them to surrender without so much as firing a shot. The Huns were taken to the rear, and their gun, a Vicker, became a trophy of war.

It was about 9 o'clock in the morning while we were advancing that I came upon a pet.i.te French tank, which had run upon a Hun mine and had been completely destroyed. The machine was reduced to a pile of junk, and it was hardly believable that a mine would work such destruction.

The heavy iron was torn in shreds, and while we knew it was a tank and we knew what had happened to it, it was now nothing but sc.r.a.p iron.

Just about that time the infantry was capturing thousands of Hun prisoners--men who had occupied the front German trenches and who were overcome by our boys. As I was advancing, I saw 3,700 German prisoners marching to the rear, and as it was still early in the day, you may know with what thoroughness our boys were doing their work. Among these prisoners was a German officer who knew the location of the mines that had been planted to destroy tanks, bridges, roads, etc. The Americans were not long in learning this and they compelled him to point out these locations. Under his guidance, 52 mines were destroyed. These might have done great damage to American tanks and soldiers if they had not been set off. As it was, they opened a pathway through which our tanks pa.s.sed without danger.

As we went forward into the territory that had been held by the Huns, we could see the results of our own work, that is to say, we could see objects upon which we had given the range to the artillery, completely destroyed. It was gratifying to note that our work and the work of the artillery had been so accurate. Objects, such as headquarters, railroad tracks, cross roads, that we had located through our strong gla.s.ses before the drive, and upon which we had given the distance to the gunners, had been shattered by direct hits, speaking wonders for the marksmanship of the American gunners. At some places we saw scores of men and animals that had been killed by sh.e.l.l fire; at others we saw trenches that had been as completely wiped out as though they never existed; we also saw ammunition dumps that had been hit and set afire and which burned steadily for several days. These were exceedingly dangerous places, and we kept a good distance from them until they burned completely out, as the exploding sh.e.l.ls threw flying metal for a distance of a hundred yards or more. We also came across railroad trains that had been hit as they were proceeding, and so badly crippled that they had to be abandoned by the enemy, later to be captured by us.

We advanced about ten kilometers the first day, and then our men were directed to dig in. Here we met with our first real resistance. The enemy counter attacked during the night, but his charges were finally broken up by our accurate fire.

Our advance that day had been rapid and had penetrated deeply into the enemy line. This had been possible because of the rapidity with which our supplies had been brought up. The roads for the most part were not badly cut up, and those that were damaged were quickly repaired by our engineers. Bridges had been hastily built, obstructions removed from highways, and sh.e.l.l holes filled in so that traffic could go on almost uninterruptedly. This made it possible for all necessary munitions to move forward.

One thing that was annoying to our advance was the German "pill boxes"

in which machine gunners were placed. These pill boxes were of concrete. They were round and flat, a few square, and took their name because of their resemblance to a pill box. They had slits about six inches wide and eighteen inches long in the concrete through which the Huns fired their machine guns at our troops. Our most effective weapon against these pill boxes was our one pounders. They fired a small sh.e.l.l directly at the box and continued to fire until they got the range of the slit. The sh.e.l.ls would then penetrate the slit and hit the other side of the box, exploding when they did so, and killing or wounding the occupants. Once the range was obtained, our gunners kept pouring in these sh.e.l.ls until there was no longer any fear that the Fritz soldiers in that box would harm any more Americans. Our boys put many of these pill boxes out of commission with big loss to the enemy.

They made duty in a pill box certain death for the Huns when any Americans were around.

We spent a rather restless night after our first day's advance. Though we had marched many miles and were mentally and physically fatigued, it was not easy to sleep. We were in constant danger of counter attack and of being sh.e.l.led by the enemy, and the sensation was not pleasant.

Early in the morning of September 13th, the second day of the drive, we advanced again in the gray of the early dawn. It was between 8 and 9 o'clock on this morning that I saw a great aerial fight in which probably thirty-five and perhaps forty machines partic.i.p.ated. We had advanced so far the first day that the Germans sent their aircraft out in numbers on the second day to look at the territory that had been lost. Our men were ready for them. It was the most thrilling sight I ever witnessed, and I cannot imagine anything more sensational. At first these machines were very high in the air, perhaps ten thousand feet, for they were mere specks in the sky to the natural vision. It was wonderful to see them manoeuvering for positions of advantage.

They twisted, turned, looped and dove. At times two or three would be very close together and then again they would separate. Little white puffs of smoke told the tale that the machine guns were in action.

They reminded me of bees swarming, as they buzzed and circled around each other in the air. As they fought they descended, coming nearer to earth and thus plainer to our vision. Suddenly one dropped out of the ranks, a struck machine. We knew it was permanently out of commission the minute it started to fall, for it dropped like a dead bird. It was a Hun machine and it dropped close to where I was located, so close in fact that within a few minutes I was inspecting it and taking small souvenirs to send home from its collapsed wings. Then another dropped, but it fell far from where we were located and its descent was so swift that we could not see its insignia and were unable to tell whether or not it was a Hun machine. Then one came down wounded, but still able to fly. It was an American machine, for it sought refuge in back of our lines. And so the fight continued for a few minutes--it did not last long--until a total of eight machines dropped and several others flew away wounded. Just what percentage of Hun and Allied planes fell, I was never able to ascertain, but the best evidence that the majority of them were Hun machines was the fact that the remaining enemy planes soon departed from the aerial battle field, leaving the Allied planes in complete control. The Allied fleet of planes in this fight was composed mostly of Americans, though our airmen were aided by a couple of British and a couple of French machines.

We continued our advance throughout the second day, though we did not proceed as rapidly as on the first day. This was because the roads were in poorer condition and supplies could not be so rapidly moved forward and for the further reason that the country was more wooded and offered Fritz a better opportunity for defense. Our boys were counter-attacked on several occasions, but each time they sent the Huns flying to the rear with heavy losses. In hand to hand fighting, such as often resulted when counter attacks were lodged, the Germans were no match for the Americans, who seemed to excel in close work which required bravery, skill and dash. In fact, it was in this kind of work that our boys showed Fritz what we mean in America by "punch."

On the third day we advanced as far as Thiacourt, which was our objective. On this day we also met with stubborn resistance. It was here that we encountered many pill boxes and it required considerable difficult and accurate work to put them out of business.

It was on the night of September 15th that we saw our hardest fighting, and were given a taste of how hard Germans could fight when pressed. It was on this night that our losses were the heaviest of the drive.

My post was dug in on a ridge that was occupied by a detachment of incomparable fighters--the Marines. The ridge was only about 500 yards in length. The roads being in bad condition, we were unable to get the protection of any artillery. All that we had to keep Fritz at bay on this ridge was about forty machine guns, which were no match for the heavy sh.e.l.ls that the Huns were pouring on us, having our range to a nicety. We were in what is known as "graves," or shallow trenches, not having had time to dig deep trenches or to strengthen our positions as we were constantly under fire. But these Marines laid down a machine gun barrage, the first that I had ever seen. They kept up the fire all night and thus held Fritz away. It was a tense period. Hun sh.e.l.ls were dropping all around us and frequently right among us, but the machine guns never ceased their excellent defensive work. When day broke, and the Hun ceased firing, only seventeen of these machine guns and their crews were in condition to fight. Twenty-three of them had been destroyed by the German artillery. It was a sad sight that met our eyes the morning when we saw the losses that we had suffered during the night.

It was on the night of the fourth day of the drive that fresh men were brought up, and those of us who had been out in front during the drive were relieved. It was, indeed, a great relief. It permitted us to relax our bodies and minds after four days of steady strain, with no more food than was sufficient to sustain us and without rest during the entire time. We were grateful to be away for a short time from the devastating fire that the Huns were pouring into our front line trenches in an endeavor to check a further penetration into their lines, but we were still under sh.e.l.l fire.

We were taken a short distance to the rear, where we were billeted in German dugouts. The day before these had been occupied by German officers. They were elaborately fitted up with all things necessary for luxury and comfort, such as beds, bathtubs, electric lights, etc.

It was here, seemingly as a reward for my small services in the great fight, that I met my friend and companion, McKinley Johnston, of Sacramento. Nothing could have pleased me more for McKinley Johnston is like a brother to me, having been my companion since boyhood. It was with him that I had talked of enlisting long before I volunteered, and it was he who enlisted with me. Though we became soldiers together and entered the same company, the fortunes of war separated us in France, and united us at a moment that was most gratifying to us both.

We sat down together and related our experiences. He was driving a truck, and from him I learned of remarkable escapes that he had had from death during the four days of the drive. On one occasion a Hun sh.e.l.l, sufficient in size to have blown him to atoms, lodged in his truck among supplies and failed to explode. I saw the sh.e.l.l myself, also saw the hole in the top of the truck through which it pa.s.sed and can vouch for the truthfulness of the story. On another occasion a shrapnel sh.e.l.l exploded on the road just to the right of his truck.

When it burst, it sent small pieces of metal flying in all directions.

About twenty-five or thirty of these pa.s.sed through his truck, but not one struck him. I saw the holes they made. The motor of the truck was not as fortunate as the driver. A number of the pieces pa.s.sed through the hood and lodged in the engine. It was damaged considerably, but it still ran and McKinley was able to complete his trip. I marveled at these stories because they concerned a young man of whom I am very fond, but escapes of this kind were numerous in these days and almost every soldier who pa.s.sed through the drive can truthfully tell of similar escapes. We were facing death all the time and the remarkable thing is that so many of us did pa.s.s through the drive and come out alive.

CHAPTER VII

Ga.s.sed

One of the happiest days that I experienced during the period that I was at war was on Friday, September 20, 1918. On this day, after having made several visits to our new posts in the front line, I came back to our billet, where, to my delight and surprise, I found eight letters from home awaiting me. No one knows the joy that a letter from home gives to a soldier on the firing line. It is like taking him out of h.e.l.l and placing him back on earth again. For several days we had been in the very thickest of the fight, facing death at every minute, seeing our companions fall around us, doing everything we possibly could to help our side win, and willing to go back and do it all over again without complaint--and then to get these welcome letters from dear ones 9,000 miles away right in the midst of it all. Is it any wonder that on such occasions we frequently gave way to our emotions?

The letters that I received were enjoyed not only by me, but by my companion, McKinley Johnston, as well, as he knew all of my people and was as familiar as I was with the things that they wrote about. It is a peculiar circ.u.mstance, but it is a fact, nevertheless, that all of the boys, even those who did not know my folks and who came from other States than California, were interested in these letters. They were news from home and that is what all the boys were craving. They wanted to read anything that came from America. So, after reading the letters, I pa.s.sed them all around and every boy in the camp read them.

After getting the letters back, I read them over several times.

Several of them contained photographs of familiar scenes and faces, and it seemed good to look upon them again, for no one knew but that it might be the last time we would see them. I thought it would be a nice thing to sit right down and write, after reading these letters, but when I attempted it, I was so overcome with emotion caused by thoughts of those who were near and dear to me, that I was unable to give expression to my thoughts.

The position of the American troops at this time was not favorable.

The enemy held the commanding ground, and was concealed in woods, while our troops were out in the open. The Boche could see what we were doing while we were unable to detect his moves. This disadvantage, you might well know, would not long be tolerated by Americans. We wanted the commanding ground and we wanted to put Fritz in the open. So on Monday, September 23rd, we gave Fritz a three-hour barrage and it was a hot one. By the time the barrage started, all our light artillery had been brought up and put in place, and we were able to rain sh.e.l.ls from the famous 75's upon the enemy in torrents. This barrage was for the purpose of breaking up the morale of the Germans.

We were counter-barraged by the Huns, and for a time they made it hot for us. But our superiority began to show after about an hour's firing. The men in the Flash Division worked hard to give our gunners the correct location of the German batteries. We worked hard and fast and the accuracy of our effort was shown by the silencing of the German guns. One by one they ceased firing, as the American artillery, with the data we supplied them, dropped sh.e.l.ls on the Hun batteries.

It was just about 5:45 in the morning when our artillery ceased firing and our boys advanced again. This time our objectives were only about two kilometers in back of the German front trenches. We met with stubborn resistance at first, but with the usual American determination and pluck, we soon forced the Boche back.

It was here that I first saw the German minnewafers and trench mortars at work. The sh.e.l.ls thrown from the minnewafers are as much feared as any German weapon of war. They are thrown from a large gun with a smooth bore and short barrel. The projectile is shaped like a rolling pin, though it is much larger. In each end, or handle of the sh.e.l.l, is a cap, which explodes as the handle strikes the ground. As the projectile somersaults as it travels, one handle or the other is sure to hit the earth, so there are no "duds" that I saw among these sh.e.l.ls. They explode with a terrific racket and tear up the earth for a great distance around the spot where they land. They are not thrown very high in the air, and are intended for use in close fighting, that is to say, two or three hundred yards. As the sh.e.l.ls whirl through the air, you can plainly hear them whistling, and if you look sharply you can occasionally see them coming. These minnewafers and mortars are of various ranges--from three and four inches up to twelve and fourteen inches. Aside from these trench guns, the Germans in this fight also resisted heavily with machine gun nests and one pounders.

In going over the top this time, we did not have the protection that we did when the St. Mihiel drive started. In other words, we did not have any tanks or any aerial protection, but had to advance with only such help as the artillery could give us.

The Germans were well protected and it took clever work to outwit them. Their machine gun nests were always cleverly concealed. Many of them were concealed in trees, and it was a common sight to see our infantrymen advance unseen by the machine gunners, and then with their rifles, shoot them out of the trees. I had seen machine gun nests in trees before, but never so many as this time. Not only were they numerous, but they were so well provided with ammunition that they could fire thousands of rounds of sh.e.l.ls, if necessary. I have seen long belts of cartridges hanging to limbs of trees, all ready for use on the part of the gunners. I have also seen many of these belts attached together so as to provide an almost endless chain of cartridges for the gun. Under one tree where there had been a nest, I saw empty cartridge sh.e.l.ls eight inches deep, which was some shooting for a short fight such as this was. That machine gun had certainly done all that could be expected of it.

We gained our objectives at 4 o'clock of the afternoon of the day the drive started. We were then in the best possible position, so far as ground is concerned, as it was possible for us to occupy. We had taken the commanding ground from Fritz, and we began digging in so as to be ready for a counter attack. All during that night we dug our trenches, making them deep and as safe as possible. Between 3 and 5 o'clock the next morning, the expected attack came. We experienced a heavy sh.e.l.ling from the German artillery. Of course, our light artillery that had been hastily brought up was not slow in returning the fire.

Our barrage was very accurate and eventually the Huns were silenced.

It was at this time that I was called upon to witness the greatest horror of war--that of seeing some of my dearest friends fall from the enemy's fire before my very eyes. I was working in a post with three other men. We had been constantly together since the drive began and our hardships that we had undergone resulted in a bond of friendship that held us together like brothers. All three of these men were killed during this barrage. Two of them were instantly killed and the third lived but a short time after being hit, dying about 6 o'clock in the morning.

When you consider that we were working in a post that was not more than twelve feet in diameter, you may well imagine my feelings as I saw these boys fall. I fully expected that my turn would come at any minute, but I kept at work so as to keep my mind off the gruesome surroundings.

The next twenty-four hours were about the worst that I experienced throughout the war. My post was right out in front, and I was the only man left in it. Our communication lines had been badly cut up by German sh.e.l.ls, and I was unable to make a report of the disaster that our post had suffered to headquarters. I could not leave the post, because I could not leave the instruments. They were too valuable to be left there with no one guarding them, and it would not do to leave any chance of their falling into the hands of the enemy. So I remained at the post all day. About 7 o'clock in the evening, men from headquarters fixed the communicating lines and I made my report of the loss of three men. Help was immediately dispatched to me, but, because we were heavily sh.e.l.led again that night by the Huns, it was impossible for aid to reach me. It was not until 4 o'clock the next morning that a detachment reached the post and I was relieved.