The A.E.F.: With General Pershing and the American Forces Part 13

Of course that wasn't the way the junior officers looked at it. A man who was a first lieutenant when the army came to France told us: "A first lieutenant is supposed to know everything and do everything; a captain is supposed to know everything and do nothing, and a major is supposed to know nothing and do nothing."

We were delighted early this year when we heard that he had been made a major, for we immediately sat down and telegraphed to him: "After what you told us this summer, we are sure you will be an excellent major."

By October much of the feeling between the officers of the regular army and the reserve had been smoothed out, but it was not like that in the early days. Once when a young reserve major was put in command of a battalion, a regular army captain who was much his senior in years observed: "I think there ought to be an army regulation that no reserve officer shall be appointed to command a battalion without the consent of his parents or guardian." But as the work grew harder and harder many little jealousies of the army were simply sweated out. It was easy to do that, for the American army woke up, or rather was awakened, every morning at five o'clock. There was a Kansas farmer in one company who was always up and waiting for the buglers. He said that the schedule of the American army always left him at a loss as to what to do with his mornings. But for the rest the trumpeters were compelled to blow their loudest. Roll call was at five-thirty and this was followed with setting up exercises designed to give the men an appet.i.te for the six o'clock breakfast. This was almost always a hearty meal. The poilus who began the day with a cup of black coffee and a little war bread were amazed to see the doughboys start off at daylight with Irish stew, or bacon or ham or mush and occasionally eggs in addition to white bread and coffee.

After breakfast came sick call, at which men who felt unable to drill for any reason were obliged to talk it over with the doctor. Those who had no ailments went to work vigorously in making up their cots and cleaning their quarters. At seven they fell in and marched away to the training ground. Mornings were usually devoted to bombing, machine gun and automatic rifle practice. A little after eleven the doughboys started back to their billets for dinner. This was likely to consist of beans and boiled beef or salmon, or there would be a stew again or corned beef hash. The most prevalent vegetables were potatoes and canned corn. Dinner might also include a pudding, nearly always rice or canned fruit. Sometimes there was jam and, of course, coffee and bread were abundant.

During the latter part of the training period the home dinner was often omitted in favor of a meal prepared at the training ground. The afternoon work began a little before two. Rifle practice, drills and bayonet work were usually the phases of warfare undertaken at this time of day. Labor ceased at four with supper, which was much the same sort of meal as dinner, at five-thirty. After supper the soldier's time was pretty much his own. He could loaf about the town hall and listen to the army band play selections from "The Fair Co-ed," "The Prince of Pilsen"

or any one of a score of comic operas long dead and forgotten by everyone but army bandmasters, or he could go to the Y.M.C.A. and read or write letters or play checkers or perhaps pool of the sort which is possible on a small portable table. He was due back in quarters and in bed at nine and he was always asleep at one minute and thirty seconds after nine.

The training hours became more crowded, if not longer, as the time drew nearer when the American army should go to the front. Everybody was anxious that they should make a good showing. Trench problems had to be considered and gas and bayonet work which was the phase in which the training was lagging somewhat. It was also considered useful that the men should have some experience with sh.e.l.l fire before they heard guns fired in anger, and so it was arranged that a sham battle should take place in which the French would fire a barrage over the heads of the American troops. The first plan was that the doughboys should advance behind this barrage as in actual warfare and attack a system of practice trenches. Later it was decided that it was not worth while to risk possible casualties, as the men could learn almost as much although held four or five hundred yards behind the barrage.

The bombardment began with thirty-six shots to the minute and was gradually raised to fifty-two. The doughboys were allowed to sit down to watch the show. Our soldiers seemed a bit unfeeling, for not one expressed any regret at the destruction of Hindenburg, Ludendorff, and Mackensen, although they had spent many a happy afternoon under the broiling sun constructing this elaborate trench system. None of the men seemed disturbed, either, by the unfamiliar whistling sounds over head.

All the doughboys wore steel helmets but two were slightly injured by small fragments from sh.e.l.ls which fell a little short. In both cases the wounded man had lowered the protective value of his helmet somewhat by sitting on it. After the first interest in the show wore off many proved their ability to steal naps in spite of the bickering of the big guns.

The marines, for instance, had marched eighteen miles after rising at 3:30 in the morning, and although the marine corps is singularly hardy, a few made up lost sleep. The patter of the French seventy-fives was no more than rain on the roof to these men when they could find sufficient cover to sleep un.o.bserved.

The most fortunate soldiers were those who were stationed in a fringe of woods which bordered on the big meadow. Here the doughboys did a little shooting on their own account when no officers were at hand. In a sudden lull of gunfire I heard a voice say: "Shoot it all," and there was a rattle of dice in the bottom of a steel helmet.

When the bombardment was at its height a big hawk sailed over the field full in the pathway of hundreds of sh.e.l.ls. He circled about calmly in spite of the shrieking things which whizzed by him and then he turned contemptuously and flew away very slowly. Perhaps he was disappointed because it was only a sham battle.

Of course some of the officers saw the real thing. Many made trips to the French front and a few fired some shots at the German lines just to set a good precedent. American officers attended all the French offensives of the summer as invited guests. Brigadier General George Duncan and Lieutenant Colonel Campbell King were cited by the French army for the croix de guerre after they had spent some thrilling hours at Verdun. The awards were largely complimentary, of course, but the American officers saw plenty of action. According to the French officers General Duncan was at an advanced observation post when the Germans spotted it and began pouring in sh.e.l.l. One fragment hit the General's hat and the colonel in charge advised him that it would be well to move back to a safer point of vantage. Duncan replied that this was the first show he had ever seen and that he did not want to give up his front row seat if he could help it.

Lieutenant Colonel King paid visits to the first aid dressing stations under heavy fire and encouraged the wounded with words of good cheer in bad French. The night before the attack his dugout was flooded with poison vapor from German gas sh.e.l.ls, but he awoke in time to arouse his two companions, who got their masks on in time to prevent injury.

Another American officer who shall be nameless found it difficult to sit back as a spectator when so much was going on. He was a brigadier general, but this was his first taste of war on a big scale. The French offensive aroused his enthusiasm so much that he said to a fellow American officer: "n.o.body's watching us now, let's sneak up ahead there and throw a few bombs." The second officer, who was only a captain, reminded him of his rank.

"I can't help that," said the General, "I've just got to try and see if I can't bomb a few squareheads." Discipline was overlooked for a moment then as the captain restrained the General with physical force from going forward to try out his arm.

The British now seem to be able to give the Germans more than they want in gas, but this superiority did not come until late in the year.

American officers who went to the front returned with a profound respect for German gas and, in fact, all gas. This feeling was reflected in the thoroughgoing training which the men received in gas and masks. It began with lectures by the company commanders in which it is certain no very optimistic picture of poison vapor was painted. Then came long drills in putting on the mask in three counts and holding the breath during the adjustment. The contrivance used was not a little like a catcher's mask and this simplified the problem somewhat. The men carried the masks with them everywhere and developed great speed in getting under protection.

Conscientious officers hara.s.sed their men by calling out "gas attack" at unexpected moments such as when men were shaving or eating or sleeping.

Finally the doughboys were actually sent through gas.

Big air-proof cellars were constructed in each village and here the tests were held. As a matter of fact, the gas used was a form of tear gas, calculated to irritate the eyes and nose and perhaps to cause blindness for a few hours. It would not cause permanent injury even if a mask were improperly adjusted. The comparative harmlessness of the test vapor was kept secret. When the men went down the steps they thought that one whiff of the air in the cellar would be fatal and so they were most careful that each strap should be in its place. Most of them had shaved twice over on the morning of the test so that the mask should fit closely to the side of the face.

The first man to go in was a captain and when he came out again obviously alive and seemingly healthy, the doughboys were ready to take a chance. A young soldier in the second batch to visit the gas chamber had taken the tales of the vapor horrors a bit too much to heart. He became panicstricken after one minute in the underground vault and had to be helped out, faint and trembling.

"What's the matter?" said his officer. "Are you afraid?"

"Yes, sir," the boy answered frankly. "But I want to try it again," he added quickly. He did, too. And what is more, he remained in for an extra period as self-discipline for his soul. When he came out he leaned against a fence and was sick, but he was triumphant because he had proved to himself that his second wind of grit was stronger than his nerves or his stomach.

As the afternoon wore on a trip through the gas chamber became a lark rather than an adventure and each batch before it went in was greeted by such remarks as "Never mind the good-byes, Snooty! Just pay me that $2 you owe me before you check off."

"Who invented this gas stuff, anyway?" asked a fat soldier, as he sat in the stifling vault, puffing and perspiring. "The Germans," he was told.

"Well," he panted, "I'm going to give 'em h.e.l.l for this."

There was other practice which seemed less warlike. Particular attention was paid to signaling and men on hilltops stood and waved their arms at each other from dawn until sunset. I stood one bright day with an expert who was trying the utmost capacity of the man stationed on the hill across the valley. The officer made the little flags whirl through the air like bunting on a battleship. He looked across the peaceful countryside and saw war dangers on every hand. The gas attack which his flags predicted seemed nothing more to me than the dust raised by a pa.s.sing army truck. He signaled that the tanks were coming, but they mooed as they moved and the aeroplanes of which he spoke in dots and dashes cawed most distinctly. With a twist of his wrist he would summon a battery and with another send them back again. There was an emphatic whip and swirl of color, and in answer to the signal mythical infantry swarmed over theoretical trenches to attack shadow soldiers. The task of the receiving soldier was made more difficult because every now and then the officer would vary his military messages with "Double-header at the Polo Grounds today" or "Please pa.s.s the biscuits." But the soldier read them all correctly. Biscuits were just as easy for him as bullets.

The men were also tested for their ability to carry oral messages. As a result of this drill there were several new mule drivers. The test message was, "Major Blank sends his compliments to Captain Nameless and orders him to move L company one-half mile to the east and support K company in the attack." After giving out this message the officer moved to the top of a hill to receive it. The first soldier who came up had difficulty in delivering the message because English seemed more alien to him than Italian. He had it all right at that, except that he made it a mile and a half. The next three delivered the message correctly, but then a large soldier came panting up, fairly bursting with excitement, and exclaimed: "The major says he hopes you're feeling all right and please take your company a mile to the east and attack K company." The names of such careless messengers were noted down so that they might not cause blunders in battle.

Precaution was taken against another source of mistakes by sending American officers out to drill French units. A few found no trouble in giving orders which the poilus could understand, but some had bad cases of stage fright.

"I almost wiped out a French battalion," said one young West Pointer. "I got 'em started all right with 'avance' and they went off at a great clip. I noticed that there was a cliff right ahead of us and I began to try and think how you said 'halt' in French. I couldn't remember and I didn't want to get out in front and flag 'em by waving my arms, so we just kept marching right on toward the cliff. They had their orders and they kept on going. It began to look as if we'd all march right off the cliff just to satisfy their pride and mine, but a French lieutenant came to the rescue with 'a gauche en quatre!' I didn't know that one, but I was a goat just the same. I could have gotten away with 'halt' all right, because I found out afterwards that it's 'halte' in French and that sounds almost the same."

The British as well as the French helped in the final polishing of the doughboys who were to go to the trenches. An English major and three sergeants came to camp to teach bayonet work. They brought a healthy touch of blunt criticism. The major told some young officers who were studying in a training school that he wanted a trench dug. He told them the length and the depth which he wanted and the time at which he expected it to be finished. It was not done at the appointed hour. "Oh, I say, that's rotten, you know!" exclaimed the big Englishman. The American officer in charge was somewhat startled. The French were always careful to phrase unfavorable criticism in pleasant words and there were times when the sting was not felt. A rebuke so directly expressed surprised the American so much that he started to make excuses for his men. He explained that the soil in which they were digging was full of rocks. The British major cut him short.

"Never mind about the excuses," he said, "that was rotten work and you know it."

Curiously enough the American army got along very well with this particular instructor and he on his part had the highest praise for the capabilities of the American after he had sized them up in training. He was more successful than the French in wheedling the Americans into visualizing actual war conditions in their practice.

"Never let your men remember that they are charging dummies," said the visiting major to an American officer. "Make them think the straw men are Germans. It can be done even without the use of dummies. Watch me."

A remarkable demonstration followed. The major sent for a little c.o.c.kney sergeant. "Now," he said, "this stick of mine with a k.n.o.b on the end is a German. Show these Americans how you would go after him."

The little sergeant did some brisk work in slashing at the end of the stick with his bayonet but the big major was not content. "Remember," he said, "this is a German," and then he would add suddenly every now and again: "Look out, my lad--he's coming at you!"

And bye-and-bye the insinuation began to take effect. The little man had spent two years on the line and it was easy to see that bit by bit he was beginning to visualize the stick with a cloth k.n.o.b as a Boche adversary. His thrusts grew fiercer and fiercer. The point of his bayonet flashed into the cloth k.n.o.b again and again. He was trembling with rage as he played the battle game. As he finally flung himself upon the stick and knocked it out of the major's hands the officer called a halt.

"There," he said to the Americans, "if your men are to train well, you've got to make them believe it's true, and you can do it."

The British added lots of snap to the American training because they knew how to arouse the compet.i.tive spirit. They made even the most routine sort of a drill a game, and whether the men were bayoneting dummies or shooting at tin cans the little Britishers kept them at top speed by stirring up rivalry between the various organizations.

Sometimes the slang was a bit puzzling. The marines, for instance, didn't know just what their bayonet instructor meant when he said: "Come on, you dreadnoughts, give 'em the old 'kamerad.'"

Curiously enough the other specialty in addition to bayonet work which the British taught the doughboys was organized recreation. Thus a British sergeant would take his squad from practicing the grimmest feature of all war training and set the men to tossing beanbags or playing leapfrog. Prisoner's base, red rover and a score of games played in the streets of every American city were used to bring relaxation to the soldiers. There were other rough and tumble games in which the players buffeted each other a.s.siduously in a neutral part of the body with knotted towels. The emphasis was put upon the ludicrous in all these games.

"This may seem childish and silly to you," said the major, "but we have found on the line that the quickest way to bring back the spirit of a regiment which has been battered in battle is to take the men as soon as they come from the trenches and set them to playing these foolish little games which they knew when they were lads. When we get them to laughing again we know we've made them forget the fight."

Mostly it wasn't play. There were long mornings and afternoons spent in battalion problems in which the doughboys again and again captured the position made up of the trenches Roosevelt, Taft and Wilson. One general pointed out that communication between Roosevelt and Taft would be necessarily difficult and between Roosevelt and Wilson all but impossible. The doughboys overcame these difficulties as they advanced under theoretical barrages and hurled live bombs into the trenches or thereabouts.

The last set event of the training period was a big field meet in which picked companies competed in military events. The meet began with musketry and worked through bayonets, hand grenades, automatic rifles, and machine guns, ending with trench digging. It was supposed that this would be the least exciting, but two companies came up to the last event tied for the point trophy. Honor and a big silver trophy and everything hung on this last event and the men could not have worked harder if they had been under German sh.e.l.lfire. Partisans of both sides stood nearby and shouted encouragement to their friends and heavy banter at the foe.

There was organized cheering and singing, too, and a couple of bands blared while the compet.i.tors lay p.r.o.ne and hacked away at the tough soil. One band played "Won't You Come and Waltz With Me?" while the other favored "Sweet Rosie O'Grady." Neither seemed particularly pertinent, but there wasn't much sense of the appropriate in the third band, either, which played "Dearie," while the soldiers were stabbing imitation Boches in the bayonet contest.

The champions of the pick and shovel brushed some of the dirt off their uniforms and lined up to receive the prize, which was a big silver salad bowl. The best bayoneters got a sugar shaker and there were mugs and wrist watches and plain watches and all sorts of things from the commander and from General Sibert and General Castelnau. No sooner were the prizes distributed than news came that the White Sox had won the first game of the world series from the Giants and then there was more cheering. The winning company went back to camp in a big truck loudly and tunefully proclaiming to the natives: "We got style, all the while, all the while."

The Germans contributed one post graduate phase of training which was not on the program. Shortly before the troops went to the front a Zeppelin was brought down in a town within marching distance of the American training zone. The big balloon could not have been better placed if its landing had been directed by a Coney Island showman. It was perched on two hills just by the side of a road and visitors came from miles about to look at the monster. Early comers reaped a rich harvest of souvenirs. "I only had to get three more screws loose and I'd have had the steering wheel if a French soldier hadn't come up and stopped me," complained an American correspondent.

The cha.s.seurs left to go back into the line before the Americans started for the front. The departure of the cha.s.seurs caused genuine regret, for in addition to a profound respect for their military ability, the American officers and men had a warm personal feeling for the troops who taught them the first rudiments of the modern art of war. In all the camps there were ceremonies for the soldiers who were leaving drills and practice attacks and sham battles to go back wherever shock troops were needed.

"When you see us later on some time," said an American officer, "we hope to make you proud of your pupils."

Although the French had already given the Americans all the fundamentals they would need they spent their last few hours in giving them some of the fine points and a minute description of just what conditions they might expect at the front.

"When you go up there," said a French officer, "the soldiers you come to relieve will say that you are late. They will say that they have been waiting a long time and they will go out very quickly. Always we find when we come in that the troops in the trench have been waiting a long time and always they go out very quickly."

As the st.u.r.dy Frenchmen marched away their cries of "bonne chance"

mingled with equally hearty shouts of "good luck."