In the Flash Ranging Service Part 4

A detachment was also sent from headquarters for the purpose of removing the bodies of my three dead companions. They were taken back of the lines to a beautiful spot in the woods, and there they were buried. Because of the fondness of the men of our detachment for these and for the further reason that fighting had slackened up some, we were able to give these men a little better burial than is accorded most soldiers who fall on the field of battle. In most cases a grave is dug, the body wrapped in a blanket and deposited without a casket and without ceremony. But for these boys, some of the men in our detachment made boxes to serve as coffins out of material that we had captured from an engineering dump. One big grave was dug and the bodies were laid in it side by side. One of the boys said a prayer and the graves of these brave lads, way out there in the woods in France, were covered over. This is one of the incidents of the war that will never leave my mind, as two of the boys were among my dearest friends.

I realize that my escape from death while at that post was by a narrow margin. It seemed to be the beginning of a number of miraculous escapes, such as many soldiers experience. Mine came in such rapid succession that I began to have a feeling that Fritz would get me yet.

About 11 o'clock at night on the 30th of September I was aroused from my bed in a dugout to repair the communication lines, it being part of the duty of our detachment to keep the lines in working order when not observing. It wasn't very pleasant, of course, to get out of bed in the middle of the night, but this was the luckiest call that I had ever had. I had not been out more than five minutes when Fritz scored a direct hit with a big sh.e.l.l upon that billet, destroying everything it in. If I had not been called out, I would have been killed.

Fortunately for our post, all the other members were on duty at the time, so we all escaped. But while I escaped with my life, the sh.e.l.l destroyed all of my personal belongings. This resulted in my discomfiture for many days, as I will relate. I had previously captured a pair of German officer's boots, which I would put on when called out at night, rather than my regulation army shoes and leggins.

On this night I slipped on these boots, and my army shoes were torn to shreds. Therefore, I was compelled to wear the German boots, and they were the most uncomfortable things that I had ever had on my feet.

Though they were my size, I could not get used to them, and they burned and blistered my heels so that I could hardly walk. As we were way out in front, it was not easy to get new shoes from headquarters.

My foot troubles became so serious that my officer granted me a day off duty for the purpose of trying to find a pair of shoes that would fit me. I spent the entire time in a fruitless search. I found several pairs of shoes that belonged to boys who had been killed, but they would not fit me, so finally I had to give it up. I wore those Boche boots sixteen days, and I had to keep going all the time with sore and blistered feet. I suffered more from those German boots than from anything else in the war.

On October 4th I had another interesting experience and narrow escape, which was as close as any that I ever want to experience. I was one of a detail that was sent after water. We had to go from our dugouts a distance of about two kilometers. On our way there we were walking in a gully. Fritz had probably used that gully for the same purpose himself when he held that ground, and he probably knew that we would be using it too. At any rate, he had the range to a nicety. On our way he first dropped a number of gas sh.e.l.ls around us. We hastily put on our masks and escaped injury. But the gas sh.e.l.ls were followed by a few high explosives. A flying fragment severed the air tube of my gas mask. This meant immediate death, unless there was quick action. I had the presence of mind to take hold of the tube, so as to prevent any gas from entering my lungs, and then I ran to high ground. The reason I sought high ground is because the chlorine gas is heavy and settles in low places and is not likely to be as thick if high ground can be reached. I was accompanied by one of the buddies, who saw my plight and ran to a.s.sist me. By a stroke of luck that seems almost unbelievable, we ran across a salvage dump on the ridge to which we ran, and there we found a good gas mask, which I hurriedly slipped on, and used until a new one was issued to me. As if to add insult to injury, while I was having trouble with the mask, I was struck on the shoulder by a piece of shrapnel. The fragment, however, had about spent its force, and while I was knocked down by the force of the blow and suffered from a bruised shoulder for several days, the skin was not broken and my injury did not reach the dignity of a wound.

We proceeded on and got our water, and on our way back we were sh.e.l.led again when we were in approximately the same place. This time one of the men received a small scratch from a piece of flying sh.e.l.l. It just broke the skin between the knee and the thigh, but was so small that it did not cause any inconvenience. Shortly after this, another bit of shrapnel hit my helmet and knocked it off my head. I gave the boys cause for a hearty laugh as I scrambled on all fours after my "tin derby," and no doubt I cut an amusing figure. Fritz seemed to be picking on me all day, but I was glad that I got off so lightly after being exposed to so much danger.

There is no room for sentiment in the army. Birthdays usually don't mean much. It just happened, however, that I had a day off of post on October 6th, and, that being my birthday, the occasion was made doubly pleasant. But the thing that made the day a perfect one for me was the fact that when I reached headquarters I found fourteen letters from home. I have already told how happy I felt when I received eight letters--well, fourteen made me feel just twice that happy. They were from relatives and friends and no gift could have made my birthday more pleasant.

October 16th was another red letter day for me. On that date I had a detail to pack in supplies, and I had the great fortune to find a new pair of shoes, just my size. What a relief to get rid of those uncomfortable ill-fitting, detestable German boots. If there was one thing that made me hate Germans worse than anything else, it was those horrid German boots. The boys said they were a hoodoo and that if I continued to wear them Fritz would get me sure. However that may be, I did not cease to have close calls. The very next day I got a small sniff of chlorination gas. It happened while I was fixing communication lines. I did not get enough to hurt me, but it made me deathly sick. I was unable to do much for a couple of days, and was taken to headquarters, where I was a.s.signed to the duty of fixing communication lines, which were constantly in danger of being broken.

On October 24th two of us were sent to repair a break, which we located at 5 o'clock in the morning. Dawn was just breaking and the place where we found the break was in the woods. The Germans had during the night thrown a lot of chlorine gas sh.e.l.ls into this woods, so we donned our masks. The break in the line was a difficult one to repair. We soon found that we could not do it with our gas masks on--one or the other must take his mask off. We could not return without making the repair. To a soldier there is no such word as fail.

It is either do or die. The buddy who was with me was a married man with a baby at home. I, being unmarried, could certainly not ask him to take off his mask, while I kept mine on. So I stripped mine off, made the repair, and while doing so was ga.s.sed severely. With the aid of the buddy, I was able to reach our billet. There I was put on a stretcher and taken to a field dressing station. As the old saying goes, it never rains but it pours; ga.s.sing was not the only trouble I was destined to experience on that day. As I was being carried to headquarters a sh.e.l.l exploded nearby and I was struck in the leg by a piece of shrapnel. It was a small but painful wound just below the left knee. I tried to accept it with a smile, and I was really glad that I was struck instead of one of the other men, as I was already out of the fight, while if one of them had been wounded, it would have been two out of commission instead of one.

CHAPTER VIII.

Hospital Experiences.

After being ga.s.sed and wounded, I was taken immediately to a dressing station, where the wound in my leg was carefully, but hurriedly dressed and my throat was swabbed with a preparation used in all hospitals to relieve the severe burning in the throat caused by gas.

Of all the unpleasant experiences that I had at war, this throat swabbing was the worst. It seemed to me like the surgeon who performed this act had found in my throat a bottomless pit, and as the swab went up and down my burning esophagus, I suffered great agony. Although I knew this treatment was necessary, if I was to recover speedily from the gas burns, I could scarcely endure it.

As soon as the wound in my leg was dressed and my throat doctored, I was examined as to my physical condition by a Major, who labeled me with a tag upon which was written, "tuberculosis." This, of course, was very annoying and caused me considerable worry. It was certainly not a pleasant word for one to receive when lying in the condition that I then was. But I afterwards learned, much to the relief of my mind, that this tag had been put on me by the Major as a warning to the next surgeon into whose hands I should fall, against tuberculosis.

In other words, in my condition, it was necessary to take precautions against the white plague.

I experienced great pains in my throat and lungs from the gas and seemed to be choking. My strength was entirely gone, and I was about as miserable as one could be. I could not utter a sound and any attempt to speak only increased my pain. I relate these facts about the agony that I suffered simply to show what a terrible weapon of war this deadly phosgene gas is, and to emphasize the villainy of the Hun government in using it after having agreed with other nations years before not to do so.

I was placed on a cot and made as comfortable as possible under the circ.u.mstances and was awaiting a motor truck to take me to a base hospital. On all sides of me were other wounded and ga.s.sed boys. Some of them were exceedingly jolly and talkative, notwithstanding their pitiable condition. I remember one boy in particular, who was about my own age. He was going over on a raid and was shot through the temple.

The bullet entered on one side an inch or two above the eye, and went straight through, pa.s.sing out the other side at about the same distance above the eye. It pa.s.sed through apparently, without striking the brain, and the boy was fully conscious while the wound was dressed and seemed to be quite jolly. I watched the surgeon shave both sides of his head around the wound to prevent infection, and then carefully dress his head, without administering any anesthetic. I marveled at the boy's condition, with such a nasty wound, but what surprised me still more was several months later when I was on board ship on my way home, there was this same boy with his wound entirely healed. Two little white scars, one on each temple, were the only marks that told of his awful experience.

From the dressing station I was taken to a field hospital, about fifteen kilometers to the rear, and there placed in a ward in a tent.

The purpose of the field hospital is to treat soldiers who are too severely wounded to be taken to base hospitals. My wound was again examined, cleaned and dressed and again the terrible swab went its depth. About 4 o'clock that afternoon I was loaded into another stretcher on an ambulance and taken to Base Hospital 51 at Toul. The distance from the field hospital to Toul was about twenty-five kilometers and we did not reach there until about 9 o'clock that night. The trip was a rough one, and I suffered greatly. I positively believe my recovery would have been much faster, had I not been transferred so hastily to this hospital. I was placed in a ward in a large hospital built of stone. In this hospital the wounded men were cla.s.sified in accordance with the nature of their wounds. I was not long in this hospital when a nurse took charge of me, and again, I received that awful swab. Each time it seemed worse than before and how I dreaded the time when it was to be given again! But much to my surprise and pleasure, my treatment was changed at this hospital. My chest and throat were ma.s.saged by the nurse with an oil that brought me immediate relief. This nurse continued this treatment several times a day and night and I began to feel a little better. All this time, however, I was unable to utter a word, and I began to wonder whether or not my speech was permanently injured. In my predicament, however, I soon learned the sign language. It is remarkable how well a man can make himself understood merely by the use of his hands. I had no trouble at all in making my wants known. I was in the base hospital at Toul for fourteen days and all of that time I coughed up great chunks of solid matter and mouthfuls of blood, as the result of the burning that I had received. After the seventh day, the nurse stopped the use of the swab, much to my delight, but continued the more appreciated ma.s.sage.

On the morning of my fifteenth day at this hospital, I was able to make my wants known by a faint whisper, and on that day I was transferred to another hospital. I was placed in a motor car and taken to the railroad station, about half a mile distant and there loaded on to a French hospital train, our destination being Tours. Before the train pulled out of the station, American Red Cross workers, always in evidence in every city in France, came and made us as comfortable as possible. They gave us coffee and doughnuts, hot chocolate and cigarettes, and their kindness was greatly appreciated by all the wounded on that train.

All the members of the crew of the train were French, and there was also several French surgeons aboard. They all showed much interest in the American troops. They asked us many questions about America and the American people. The fighting qualities of our boys were highly praised by them. The members of the crew in particular were interested about working conditions in America, and were anxious to know whether or not they would have any difficulty in getting work if they came to this country. They showed plainly that they had been so favorably impressed by Americans in France that they had a longing to become a part of this great nation.

It took us a day and a night to reach Tours. The journey was a tiresome one and we were glad when the train finally stopped at Tours.

Again we were put on motor ambulances and taken to Base Hospital 7, in the suburbs of the city. We were immediately given a physical examination, and all our personal effects, including our clothes, were taken from us, except a few toilet articles. We were then given a bath robe, a towel and soap and taken to a warm shower. It was with great delight that we got under that shower and enjoyed a thorough bath. The showers were of American make and were built large enough so that twenty-five or thirty men could take a bath at a time. After the shower we were given a solution to rub on our bodies for the purpose of killing the cooties. The time had come, I am glad to say, when we and the cooties, must forever part. But the cootie in the front line trenches was not altogether an enemy. That may sound strange, but the fact is, when we were fighting the cooties and chasing them out of our dug-outs, our minds were not on our more serious troubles and we were unmindful of the dangers that surrounded us. So there were times when the cooties were really friends and they kept our minds and hands occupied.

After the bath, we were taken back to the ward and were not allowed to have any clothes for three days. This was probably so there would be no chance of a stray cootie getting into our new outfit. When three days had elapsed, however, we were given slips, which we filled out in accordance with our needs. When I got back into a uniform, life at the hospital was more pleasant. With the aid of crutches I was able to move around a little and to enjoy the company of other boys. The time was spent in playing cards, light conversation, and other amus.e.m.e.nts.

We kept our minds off our rough experiences at the front.

I had an unusually pleasant experience soon after I was at Tours. A Red Cross nurse came to our ward to take orders for our small wants, such as candy, cigarettes, tobacco, writing paper and such articles.

She spoke a few words to me and then pa.s.sed on. It was the first time I had spoken to an American girl since leaving the United States. A few minutes later one of the boys told me she was from the West and then one said he thought she was from California. I could not wait until she came to bring our supplies, but immediately started out to look her up, so anxious was I to see and talk with a Californian. I found her and told her I was from California and that I had heard that she was from that State, too. To my great pleasure and surprise, I learned that she was from Sacramento, my home town, and that she was acquainted with my folks and knew of me. Her name is Miss Mae Forbes, and after her patriotic work in France, she is home again in Sacramento. One must experience the delight of meeting a charming young woman from his own town, in far-off France, and under the circ.u.mstances that I did, to appreciate my feelings at this time. It is an experience that I will always remember as one of the most happy of my life. It was only a few days later that I made my way, without the aid of crutches this time, to the American Red Cross station where I again met Miss Forbes and had a long and pleasant chat with her about California. Miss Forbes introduced me to the other members of the station, and from that time until I left Tours, it was like my home. I spent many a pleasant hour there and its memories will always be dear to me.

I was in the hospital at Tours on November 11th, when the armistice was signed. There was a great commotion in my ward when we first learned the news. Most of the boys were glad that the war was over and that the lives of so many boys still at the front had been spared.

Others said they hoped the end had not come so suddenly, as they were anxious to recover and get back into the front line to take another crack at the despicable Huns.

At this time I was gaining strength rapidly and was able to get around fairly well. I was given a pa.s.s out of the hospital, and with two other boys who were fairly strong, we went into the business district of Tours to witness the celebration. It was like a great city gone mad. The streets were crowded with civilians, and everybody was waving flags. Most people had a French flag in one hand, and the flag of one of the Allied nations in the other. The American flag predominated above all other Allied flags; in fact, the people of Tours seemed to be very partial to America. "Vive l'Amerique" they shouted, "La guerre est fini." They are very emotional and demonstrative. They lined the sidewalks of the business streets, waving their flags and shouting in their native tongue, while an American Marine Band playing patriotic music, marched up one street and down another. It was a general holiday and no business was done that day, and but very little for several days thereafter. All American soldiers in the city were lionized. When a group of enthusiastic Frenchmen would get hold of a buddy, they would insist on taking him to a cafe and buying the most expensive of wines. If we could have conserved all the liquor the French were willing to buy for us that day, dry America would not worry us.

I was seated on a bench in one of the parks watching the demonstration and contrasting it with the probable demonstrations in American cities on that day, when two flags, one French and the other American, dropped over my shoulders. I straightened up and the next thing I knew I was strongly clasped in the arms of a beautiful young French girl, elegantly dressed and bewitchingly charming. She kissed me fervently on each cheek. The sensation was pleasant, but it was rather embarra.s.sing inasmuch as it was in full view of hundreds of people who were celebrating. If the shades of evening had been falling, the spot more secluded and the number reduced to two, it would have been more to my American tastes. However, I arose, conscious that I was blushing, and offered the beauty my hand. She could scarcely speak a word of English and I scarcely a word of French, but we managed to make each other understand that it was a pleasurable greeting. She was soon on her way joyfully waving her flags, and I--well, I charged myself up with a lost opportunity for not being more proficient in the polite use of the French language.

We remained in the city until 9:30 that evening, and the people were still celebrating. And they kept it up for several days and several nights, so great was their joy in knowing that the war was over and that the enemy had been crushed.

My stay in Tours gave me some opportunity of seeing this ancient city.

Tours lies in the heart of the Loire Valley, which is the garden of France. It is 145 miles southwest of Paris by rail and is on the left bank of the Loire River. It is an exceedingly old city and has an interesting history. There are numerous castles and chateaux in the vicinity, which in peace times are visited annually by thousands of tourists. It contains a number of ancient buildings of interest. In normal times it is no doubt one of the most interesting cities in France.

The hospital in which I was treated was a very large one, in fact, it was a great inst.i.tution of many buildings. It contained forty-five wards of fifty cots each. It covered a large area and had every comfort for the men, such as a motion picture house, library, reading room, etc.

After I had been there about five weeks and had regained much of my physical strength, the authorities in charge began to cla.s.sify the boys, either for further duty, or for shipment home. All were anxious to be put in cla.s.s D, which meant the United States--G.o.d's country.

n.o.body wanted cla.s.s A, which meant further duty with the army of occupation, and another year at least in Europe. It seemed very much like a lottery, as the boys who were able to do so, walked up and received their cla.s.sification. I was exceedingly happy when I was given cla.s.s D, which meant that nothing would stop me from seeing "home and mother."

After being cla.s.sified, we were notified to make ourselves ready for a trip to the coast. Although we were not told that we were going home, we knew that the good old U. S. A. was our ultimate destination. So I received a pa.s.s and made my last visit to the business district of Tours for the purpose of purchasing some souvenirs of France for the women folks at home. The men I had already remembered with rings, made during my convalescing days at the hospital out of French two-franc pieces. I might add that ring making was a favorite occupation of the patients and we spent many pleasant moments working them out sitting on our cots, while a group of interested buddies would sit around and watch and comment.

I found it no easy matter to make my purchases. In the first place, the French merchants, knowing that many of the American boys had money to spend, asked about four prices for everything, and, secondly, the French methods of doing business are quite different from our own. But by spending practically the entire day, by attempting Hebraic methods in purchasing, and by pretending that I had only a few francs to spend, I managed to spend about $25 in buying the few things that I wanted to bring home.

I was then ready to leave, whenever Uncle Sam was willing to take me.

CHAPTER IX.

Home Again

On the morning of December 11th a number of the boys at the hospital at Tours received orders to prepare for a trip to the coast. This was the most welcome news that we could have heard and we hastily got our personal belongings together. It was about 10 o'clock when we were placed in ambulances and taken from the hospital. We were driven to the railroad station about a mile distant, and there a.s.signed to quarters in an American hospital train.

This was the first American train I had been on since I arrived in France, and it certainly was a great relief to me to know that we were not to be crowded into one of those uncomfortable, stuffy and tiresome French trains. The American hospital train furnished an excellent example of American efficiency, and when contrasted with the French trains. I could not but think how much more progressive our people are than Europeans. We had everything that we needed, and plenty of it. We enjoyed good beds, good food, and sufficient room to move around without encroaching upon the rights and the good natures of others. We pulled out of Tours with no regrets on what was our most enjoyable train trip while in France. It was enjoyable for two reasons--first, we were traveling in comfort and as an American is used to traveling, and secondly, we were traveling toward home.

The trip down the Loire Valley followed practically the same route that we took on our way from Brest to Tours. The scenes, of course, were very much the same, except that the country now wore its winter coat, while it was mid-summer on my previous trip.

We arrived in Brest on December 13th, and to our surprise, we learned that President Wilson had just previously landed there, and the city had gone wild with enthusiasm over him. A tremendous crowd gathered at the station to greet him. Bands were playing and the occasion was a gala one. Our train stopped about a quarter of a mile away from the station, where the President greeted a ma.s.s of French people and American soldiers. I regret very much that I was unable to get a view of the President while he was at Brest; that was not my fortune. We did, however, see his train pull out on its journey to Paris.

Soon after we arrived at Brest we were told that we would be taken back on the "George Washington," the liner upon which President Wilson crossed the Atlantic, and great was our joy. However, we were soon doomed to disappointment, for orders were changed, and we were taken to the Carry On Hospital, just out of Brest. The ride to the hospital was a disagreeable one, as it had been raining and the streets were muddy and wet. The ambulance rocked more like a boat than a motor car.

We were a.s.signed quarters and given food. We met a number of boys in the various wards who were awaiting their time of departure. We asked them about how long it was after arriving at Brest before soldiers were embarked for home, and they said the time varied all the way from three to thirty days. That was not very encouraging and we were hoping that in our case it would be three days. The very next morning, however, a number of our boys received orders to get ready to depart.

I was not included among them, to my sorrow, and had no idea how long I might be kept at Brest. It was only a day or two later when we were made happy by the news that our time to depart had come. It was joyful news and made our hearts beat with the joy that only a returning soldier knows.

We were loaded on the hospital ship "La France," which is a beautiful, four-funnel French liner, 796 feet in length. It was the third largest liner in use in transporting troops at that time. We took our places on the boat about noon, but the big ship laid in the harbor all afternoon, and it was not until about sundown that she started to pull out and we bade "good-bye" to "la belle France." One might think that there was a lot of cheering when the boat pulled out on the eventful afternoon of December 17, 1918, but there was not. Some of the boys, it is true, cheered heartily. Most of us, however, were too full of emotion to become wildly demonstrative. Our thoughts were on home, the folks that are dear to us, and our beloved native land, and our emotions were too strained for expression in cheers.