^TTERYA 
 
 '0. 
 
 101- Field Artiller/ 
 
Class L_^_ 
 
 Book 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 Copyright N^___£.A. 
 
 GiSFlfRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 

 
 Copyright, 1919 
 
 LOOMIS & COMPANY 
 
 Boston 
 
 ^CU559e96 
 
BEING THE NARRATIVE 
 
 OF 
 
 BATTERY A 
 
 OF THE 
 
 lOlst FIELD ARTILLERY 
 
 (FORMERLY BATTERY A OF BOSTON) 
 
 From the time of its muster into the Federal Service on July 
 25, 1917, through its 19 months of service in France, nine 
 months of which were in action at the front, until its de- 
 mobilization at Camp Devens, Mass., on April 29, 1919. 
 
 Cambridge, Mass. 
 
 THE BRATTLE PRESS 
 
 Printers 
 
Perhaps some discerning reader may discover, 
 in the pages that follow, mistakes in grammar or 
 changes in style. If so, he should bear in mind 
 that no less than 16 members of the Battery helped 
 write this history, and that, written as it was, for 
 the greater part in France during the months fol- 
 lowing the armistice, the events of the preceding 
 year and the "dialect" of the Army were much 
 fresher in the minds of the men than was the liter- 
 ary technique of the English language. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 PREFACE 9 
 
 BOXFORD, AND THE REORGANIZATION OF THE BATTERY 13 
 
 EN AVANT 21 
 
 THE TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 33 
 
 CHEMIN DES DAMES 49 
 
 ONE "REST PERIOD" 66 
 
 THE TOUL SECTOR 83 
 
 CHATEAU-THIERRY 112 
 
 A REAL REST 141 
 
 THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 149 
 
 THE VERDUN FRONT 174 
 
 FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 193 
 
 HOME 228 
 
 APPENDIX 239 
 
ENGRAVINGS 
 
 The French 75 Frontispiece 
 
 Facing Page 
 
 Pictures of men of Battery A who were killed in action.... 8 
 
 Second Section Gun Pit on the Chemin des Dames 48 
 
 Shell Torn Church at Chassemy 48 
 
 Third Piece at Coetquidan 48 
 
 The Brick Factory at Rangeval 88 
 
 Monastery at Rangeval 88 
 
 Picket Line at Brachay 88 
 
 Photograph taken by Airplane of the Battle of Seicheprey 96 
 
 First Piece at Boncourt 104 
 
 Horse Line at Troussey 104 
 
 Third Piece in Position near Paris-Metz Road 138 
 
 Ruins of German Trench in the St. Mihiel Attack 152 
 
 Our Homes during Rest Period at Gommeville 152 
 
 Telephone Detail Quarters at First Verdun Position 176 
 
 Kitchen in Death Valley 176 
 
 View of Fort Douamont 184 
 
 Second Verdun Position 184 
 
 French "90" 192 
 
 French Long Range Gun 192 
 
 Camouflaged Gun at Belleau Woods 138 
 
MAPS 
 
 Facing Page 
 
 Itinerary 32 
 
 Chemin des Dames 56 
 
 Toul Sector 80 
 
 Chateau-Thierry Sector 112 
 
 Epieds-Trugny 120 
 
 Ourcq, Sergy, Fere-en-Tardenois 128 
 
 St. Mihiel Front 160 
 
 The Verdun Front 168 
 
TO THE MEN OF BATTERY A WHO LAID DOWN 
 
 THEIR LIVES FOR THE GREAT CAUSE, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY THEIR COMRADES 
 
ijeroes All 
 
 JOSEPH W. ZWINGE 
 DAVIS 0. LAWRENCE 
 
 E. NEWELL RIPLEY 
 
 NORBERT E. RIGBY 
 E. CLIFFORD SAWYER 
 
Seaii mt tlie ^Iiel^ nf Hjintnr 
 
 «Bbs>^&9^ 
 
 CHARLES R. ELLIS 
 
 CHARLES W. PLUMMER 
 
 EDWARD A. HOOPER 
 
 C. RALPH FARNSWORTH 
 
Qtljty (^aue utljtir All for ufljtit (!{oHntra 
 
 \ 
 
 PHILIP CUNNINGHAM 
 
 LAURENCE B. WILLIAMS 
 
 ELLERY PEABODY. JR. 
 
 SETH A. ELDRIDGE 
 RAYMOND L. HOWLAND 
 
PREFACE 
 
 When Battery A of the 101st Field Artillery was 
 called into Federal service during the summer of 1917 
 it had a wonderful past record to uphold and carry 
 on. As the "offspring" of Battery A of the Massa- 
 chusetts Volunteer Militia its traditions and reputa- 
 tion had been gradually growing and developing for 
 over sixty years. In reality its History should date 
 back to 1853 when it first began its official life under 
 the name of the Boston Light Artillery Company. It 
 was not until 1895, however, that its career as a mod- 
 ernized Artillery unit began to show results. In that 
 year a number of men prominent in the business and 
 social life of Massachusetts completely reorganized 
 the old Battery. They raised the standard of its per- 
 sonnel to a height seldom found in a military unit. 
 Ninety per cent, of its members were either college 
 graduates or undergraduates. On account of its 
 makeup the Battery soon became known as the ''Mil- 
 lionaire Battery" and many were the predictions that 
 it would not "make good." Nevertheless, in spite of 
 the fact that most of its equipment and guns were an- 
 tiquated and out of date, and in spite of the extremely 
 limited opportunities for practical training, — usually 
 a brief two weeks or so each summer, the work of the 
 Battery improved rapidly and the men steadily in- 
 creased their efficiency. 
 
 From 1900 onward its reputation as one of the 
 best, — if not the best militia artillery unit in the 
 United States was never doubted. It compared favor- 
 ably in practically every respect with the "regulars" 
 
10 PREFACE 
 
 themselves. No better proof of the above facts can 
 be obtained than from the various regular army offi- 
 cers w^ho had a chance to witness its actions. In 1904 
 the Regular Major who was acting as umpire during 
 the summer manoeuvers reported that : 
 
 "This Battery must be considered an excellent 
 militia organization. I venture to say that a month's 
 actual experience in the field including opportunities 
 for target practise would make it the equal of any 
 regular Battery in the service." 
 
 Speaking of its personnel, he said: 
 
 "In time of war they should be looked upon as 
 available material for commissions in the artillery." 
 
 In the report of another inspecting officer there is 
 the following extract : 
 
 "I can say unhesitatingly that this is the best 
 militia field battery that I have ever observed." 
 
 In fact the chief criticism that most army officers 
 made was that: 
 
 "The enlisted personnel would be too good to hold 
 together in case of war. They are far superior to 
 their rank in mental, physical and professional quali- 
 fications." 
 
 In 1916, when the call came to go to the Mexican 
 Border, the Battery found a real chance for demon- 
 strating its ability and its efficiency under actual field 
 conditions; and there, as heretofore, the government 
 reports proved that its high standards of excellency 
 were being well maintained. 
 
 Upon the return from the border most of the mem- 
 bers of the Battery, benefiting by their recent train- 
 ing, either tried for commissions at Plattsburg and 
 
PREFACE 11 
 
 the other officers' training' camps or else helped or- 
 ganize the various artillery units that were rapidly 
 springing- up throughout the state. The contribution 
 of these men to the fighting forces of the United 
 States, as well as of the 800 or so past members who 
 preceded them would take a volume in itself. Some 
 day we hope that their record will be written up. It 
 will show better than anything else could show, the 
 true worth of Battery A. 
 
 The spring" of 1917 saw almost a complete trans- 
 formation in the personnel of the Battery. The old 
 one had largely disappeared, but the new one that 
 sprang up rivalled it in practically every respect. 
 How it accounted for itself in the great war, as Bat- 
 tery A of the 101st Artillery, of the 26th Division, we 
 have tried to show in the pages that follow. 
 
 As a fighting outfit of the American Expiditionary 
 Forces, few others can compare with its record. It 
 was nineteen months in foreign service. It spent 218 
 days actually on the front, in position against the 
 Germans. It was the first National Guard unit to fire 
 against the Germans. It fired over 52,000 rounds dur- 
 ing its action at the front. Its casualties included 13 
 killed and 39 wounded. Three of its members received 
 The Distinguished Service Cross, three the Croix De 
 Guerre and 18 were cited in Divisional Orders. 
 
 In this History we have traced its progress 
 through the days of its reorganization and rebirth 
 during the spring months of 1917; through the weld- 
 ing together process at Boxford; through the trip 
 across; through the training days at Camp Coetqui- 
 dan amidst the rain and mud of "sunny" France; 
 
12 PREFACE 
 
 through its initial baptism of fire on the famous 
 ''Chemin Des Dames," through the "Peace Time War- 
 Fare" on the Toul Sector; through the never-to-be- 
 forgotten days of the Chateau-Thierry Drive; 
 through the St. Mihiel Drive; through the last terri- 
 ble struggle of the war in front of Verdun; through 
 the trying and difficult period following the armis- 
 tice, through its homeward journey in a crowded 
 troopship, its wonderful welcome in Boston Har- 
 bor and then finally its last days at Devens and the 
 demobilization there. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOXFORD, AND THE REORGANIZATION OF 
 THE BATTERY 
 
 /^N July 25, 1917, under summons of President 
 ^^^ Wilson, Battery A assembled at the Com- 
 monwealth Armory in Boston. There were hardly 
 more than twenty-five men who had been in the or- 
 ganization more than four or five months. The per- 
 sonnel had changed almost completely during the 
 winter and spring of 1917. Most of the old members, 
 benefiting by their previous training and experience, 
 were discharged to try for commissions at Officers* 
 Training Camps, or else to help organize the new 
 artillery units that were springing up. March, April, 
 May and June saw nearly one hundred and sixty new 
 men join the Battery; all very green in military 
 knowledge, but all very keen to learn. 
 
 Everyone had caught the war enthusiasm. Al- 
 most every night drills were held in the armory, and 
 on each Saturday, two or three sections would hike 
 out to Belmont or Lexington for a week-end "turn- 
 out". These "turnouts" probably did more than any- 
 thing else to teach men the fundamentals of the ar- 
 tillery game. With the Battery's sixty horses and 
 its old three-inch guns, a great deal could be accom- 
 plished. A large percentage of the men had never 
 ridden a horse before in their lives, far less ever har- 
 nessed or groomed one. Forty-eight hours in camp, 
 however, brought out tremendous changes. They 
 
14 BATTERY A 
 
 soon learned how to put on the harness, how to fit 
 the saddle, and how to cinch it up so that it would not 
 slide off every few minutes. Experience was a wonder- 
 ful teacher. On the first few "turnouts," teams were 
 constantly stopping and dropping out because a cinch 
 had come undone, a trace had unhooked itself, a bit 
 had fallen out of a horse's mouth, or a dozen other 
 equally insuperable difficulties had cropped up. But 
 the drivers quickly found out how to solve their 
 troubles; how to fasten a cinch so it would stay fast- 
 ened; how to hook a trace so it would stay hooked; 
 or how to put on a blanket so it would stay put. The 
 number of things that were necessary to know before 
 one became even a fair artilleryman seemed extraor- 
 dinary. When an outsider would see an artillery 
 hitch driving along, it would look to him as if nothing 
 could be simpler; so most of the recruits had thought 
 before they joined; it oifly took them one short "turn- 
 out," however, to convince them of their mistake. 
 The art of driving, of harnessing, of feeding, of 
 grooming, of pitching and breaking camp, of stretch- 
 ing picket lines, of limbering and unlimbering the 
 guns or caissons, and of innumerable other details 
 was not so easy as it appeared. Little points like put- 
 ting on a nose bag when the horse was very hungry, 
 or cleaning out his hind feet when he did not want 
 them to be cleaned out, or straightening out a six 
 horse hitch when a couple of horses fell down and 
 got tangled up in the traces, required no little knack. 
 And so it went. The mysteries of the army were 
 gradually revealed. Each Sunday night, the men, 
 more dirty and tired than they had probably ever 
 
BOXFORD AND REORGANIZATION 15 
 
 been before, would get into civilian clothes again feel- 
 ing more and more like hardened veterans. 
 
 On July 25 the National Guard of Massachusetts 
 was called out. Battery A quickly assembled at the 
 Commonwealth Armory in Boston and lost no time 
 in getting ready for the anticipated campaign ahead 
 of it. The first morning was an extremely busy one, 
 sorting out the immense store of old Battery prop- 
 erty to determine the necessary equipment which we 
 expected to need later on, and the extra luggage and 
 past records which were to be stored away in some 
 warehouse. While the cannoneers were working 
 hard in this way, the drivers had harnessed up the 
 horses and hitched them to the guns, caissons, and 
 other rolling stock preparatory to leaving. Just be- 
 fore noon they pulled out for Boxford, where our 
 training camp was to be established. 
 
 The rest of the Battery stayed in Boston over 
 night, and went up by train the next day. They took 
 with them all the supplies, equipment, and excess 
 wheeled material; an item which took no less than 
 four trucks to transport from the armory to the train 
 yards. Noon found the whole Battery in Boxford, 
 near the flat, bare drill field formerly used by the First 
 Corps Cadets. No sign of a camp was visible. By 
 nightfall, however, the pyramidal tents were up and 
 in perfect alignment along the Battery street, the 
 guns and caissons were parked with mathematical 
 accuracy, and the horses on the picket line had marked 
 out their place in the scheme of things with tooth 
 and hoof. 
 
 The first week was seven days of readjustment in 
 
16 BATTERY A 
 
 which the various factors seemed to balance them- 
 selves. Unaccustomed and unending duties caused 
 us to fall asleep directly after taps without discom- 
 fort in the rough blankets. The morning footdrill 
 and gundrill brought around dinner hour all the 
 quicker. The afternoon conditioning hike enhanced 
 the attractiveness of the swimming hole, and each 
 and every detail finished, served as a valid excuse to 
 patronize the vendors of fruit, pie, and "Lemon Pop". 
 During that first week, the first Sergeant's office was 
 the busiest place in the Battery. Army paper work 
 was at its zenith. The process of being mustered into 
 federal service seemed to require about every avail- 
 able blank form in the army to be filled out and 
 signed. 
 
 Our transition into soldiers those first few days 
 was made harder by a terrific heat spell that blighted 
 our good nature, destroyed our enthusiasm, scorched 
 our patriotism, and coupled with violent lightning 
 storms, during one of which, a tent was struck and 
 one member of the Regiment was killed, made us feel 
 quite superior to the French and English in the 
 trenches of France. With the return of proper weath- 
 er our natural spirits came back again; the morning 
 drills were executed with snap; the afternoon hikes 
 became competitive in character; and the evenings 
 were devoted to song and boxing. Each week end 
 brought with it an eagerly looked forward to rest. 
 Our camp would suddenly resemble a huge county 
 fair. Great crowds of parents, relatives, and sweet- 
 hearts flocked out and swarmed over the camp in 
 their efforts to see their boys. The never ending jam 
 
BOXFORD AND REORGANIZATION 17 
 
 of automobiles made one think of the road to the 
 stadium on the day of the Harvard-Yale game. 
 
 In many respects our life differed from the train- 
 ing life that was to be universal in the army canton- 
 ments, which at that time were merely paper plans. 
 We lived in pyramidal tents, each one containing ten 
 canvas cots equipped with an alleged mosquito net- 
 ting almost impossible to adjust; our washroom was 
 the shore of the lake; our kitchen a fly-tent at the 
 mercy of the elements; and our dining room the place 
 where we happened to sit down. Our training was 
 hampered and delayed by the great amount of pioneer 
 work necessary to turn the wide, bare plain into an 
 encampment for a whole brigade of artillery, worthy 
 of the name of "Camp Curtis Guild". A telephone 
 system had to be installed; gas engines had to be 
 erected on the shore of the lake to provide adequate 
 water facilities; trenches for water pipe had to be 
 dug, and the pipes laid; wooden horse troughs had 
 to be built and shower baths constructed. Finally, 
 the term "detail" fell to such low repute that when 
 it was decided to build a model dugout like those in 
 France, — it was called the "Colonel's Dugout", — an 
 "Honorary Detail" composed of non-commissioned 
 officers and privates, was "allowed" to build it. The 
 work, which was done by day and night shifts, en- 
 countered a vast pit of loose sand just below the top 
 soil which necessitated shoring every bit of progress 
 with practically water tight planking, in order to stop 
 the seepage of sand. At last the attempted dugout 
 was completed with stovepipe and flooring, and we 
 lost our fear for the life of our Colonel. 
 
18 BATTERY A 
 
 Our drill periods were more devoted to condition- 
 ing and whipping everyone into good physical shape 
 than to actual artillery work. Hard, speedy hikes 
 every day through the neighboring country, combined 
 with an hour's calesthenics each morning and long 
 periods of foot drill in the broiling sun, helped take 
 off our extra weight. We did work in some useful 
 training besides. The drivers had a chance to prac- 
 tise their grooming on what horses we had and to 
 take them out for "Monkey drills", while the can- 
 noneers acquired some additional knowledge of the 
 guns when they were studying to pass the gunners 
 examinations. The Special Detailists busied them- 
 selves with the problems of open warfare. They 
 would gallop out into the country, pick out a Battery 
 position, establish the Battery Commander's Station, 
 and work out the necessary firing data for the guns. 
 The Scouts would map out the roads and draw pano- 
 ramic sketches of the surrounding areas. The tele- 
 phonists would lay out their telephone wires and re- 
 pair breaks; while everyone in each spare moment 
 would try to break the speed record in semaphoring 
 and wigwagging. 
 
 On August 5, 1917 we were drafted into federal 
 service as Battery A, 101st Regiment of Field Artil- 
 lery of the 51st Field Artillery Brigade of the 26th 
 Division. On August 28 we held our first real review 
 of the whole Brigade, before Governor McCall, and 
 then on August 30 we held our final review before 
 Major-General Edwards. From the middle of August 
 on we began to realize that we were not to go to the 
 National Army cantonment then under construction 
 
BOXFORD AND REORGANIZATION 19 
 
 at Charlotte, South Carolina, but instead that we 
 would probably go overseas very shortly. Our ranks 
 were being filled up by Coast Artillerymen from the 
 forts around Boston, Providence, and Portland; our 
 equipment was kept limited; huge crates for harness 
 and excess paraphanalia were being knocked together 
 and adorned with strange hieroglyphics in red paint 
 that meant "Overseas" to us. We were advised to 
 send home all personal property of bulk or question- 
 able necessity, to be exceedingly careful to whom we 
 talked, to disclaim any knowledge of our destination, 
 and even to refrain from conjecture as to same. The 
 prospect of going at once to France put even greater 
 vigor and enthusiasm into our daily routine. We 
 even actually enjoyed the long tedious lay-out inspec- 
 tions that took place before our departure. We 
 painted our three-inch guns a beautiful battleship 
 gray and saw them for the last time as they rattled 
 down the road on their way to the Watertown Ar- 
 senal. The harness was soaped and oiled, and finally 
 packed into crates. The freshly painted collars were 
 packed with the horse blankets, and gradually almost 
 everything else either followed the guns down the 
 road or was swallowed up in the packing cases for 
 shipment abroad. The night of September 6 found 
 us loading our equipment into freight cars by the 
 light of huge bonfires of papers and trash scattered 
 through the regimental area. When the job was 
 finished nothing remained but our tents, sleeping cots, 
 haversacks, and blanket rolls. At eleven o'clock on 
 September 7 every tent in the Regiment was being 
 held erect only by four men at the corner guy-ropes. 
 
20 BATTERY A 
 
 A shrill whistle-blast, a flutter of brown canvas, and 
 the 101st Field Artillery Regiment was homeless. By 
 noon our regimental camp had disappeared. We had 
 all been paid off. The tents had all been rolled up and 
 sent away. Every scrap of paper and cigarette butt 
 had been policed and we fell in, in heavy marching 
 order. Oft* at last ! An hour later and our train had 
 pulled out, — bound for New York and somewhere in 
 France ! 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 EN AVANT 
 
 npHE departure from Boxford was our first experi- 
 ence in secrecy, but although the newspapers 
 were silent, a fair-sized crowd was there to watch us 
 entrain and give us what send-oif the circumstances 
 allowed. There was no cheering, no speeches, no 
 flag-waving; the band discoursed wailingly of the 
 long, long trail over which we were starting, and the 
 temperature made overcoats and horse-collar rolls far 
 from comfortable. Some of us, with visions of trust- 
 ing relatives journeying to camp on the coming Sun- 
 day with all expectation of finding us there, managed 
 to pass to the spectators notes which would avert 
 such a calamity, but they were few. We merely 
 marched down to the train and climbed aboard in a 
 matter-of-fact way which took the edge off the whole 
 proceeding. This was in the afternoon, Friday, Sep- 
 tember 7, 1917. 
 
 We rolled away past Lowell, past x\yer and half 
 finished Camp Devens and through Worcester, slink- 
 ing along in accordance with our orders to attract no 
 attention and give no impression that we were other 
 than a band of boy scouts bound for Chautauqua. 
 Probably no one saw the collar insignia of our officers 
 who paced the station platforms at our frequent 
 stops! 
 
 It was three o'clock of Saturday morning, rainy 
 and dark, when we reached Harlem River freight 
 
22 BATTERY A 
 
 yards, but the sun was out and up before we had 
 loaded ourselves and baggage aboard the steamer 
 "Grand Republic" and headed out into the East River 
 for the trip around Manhattan Island. The "Rumor 
 Association" which had been busily sending us to all 
 destinations from Halifax to a southern training 
 camp, now had it straight that we were to sail from 
 Hoboken on the "Leviathan", and the last lurch and 
 wiggle of the steamer even seemed to point us more 
 surely toward the piers where the huge bulk of the 
 once-German liner was plainly showing. Any en- 
 thusiasm over the idea of making the voyage on such 
 a ship was short-lived, and we gazed on the wreck of 
 another rumor as we slid past a stern marked "Adri- 
 atic" and climbed off onto the docks of the White 
 Star Line. 
 
 The "Adriatic", however, was large enough to 
 satisfy the most exacting taste, and we were soon 
 filing aboard in pay-roll order, each with a card show- 
 ing where his quarters were and when he messed. 
 There was some excitement when a steward steered 
 us into the second class compartments, which we 
 thought would do very well, until we were uncere- 
 moniously chased out and down to our proper place 
 on the third deck forward, fairly comfortable barring 
 an insufficiency of fresh air. 
 
 The "Adriatic" was not exactly a transport but a 
 commercial vessel on which the Government had en- 
 gaged space. Thus we traveled not as troops but as 
 third class passengers: there is some distinction. A 
 Royal Mail Steamer, however, is almost a part of the 
 British Navy in time of war. We had a species of 
 
EN AVANT 23 
 
 state room and although all the regiment were not 
 so fortunate, we were not on the whole crowded. Be- 
 sides ourselves, there was a part of the 102nd Infan- 
 try on board, a hospital unit, swarms of unattached 
 officers, a few civilians, and a most varied cargo said 
 to range from gold bullion and explosives to barbed 
 wire. We were able to verify the wire, as well as 
 two motor trucks on the forward deck, which made 
 excellent lounging places, and had to take the rest on 
 faith. The barbed wire made something of an 
 impression. It has only one use in war and a very 
 definite grimness in the coils upon coils lowered 
 into the hold contrasted strangely with the every- 
 day, self-centered bustle of the harbor. There 
 was the same clash between the sight of crowded 
 pleasure craft bound up the Hudson and the little 
 signs on the "Adriatic" warning how the display of 
 a light at night might "jeopardize the safety of the 
 ship." It seemed as if America had not awakened to 
 the reality of the war and that we were bearing the 
 whole burden alone. 
 
 Still, we hardly went about in sack cloth and 
 ashes on that account. Very few of us had ever 
 crossed the ocean before, and in spite of submarines 
 and all, the prospect of seeing foreign countries was 
 most alluring. 
 
 At that time the undersea warfare was just com- 
 ing under control, but it was still a strong menace and 
 strict protective measures were necessary. We had 
 rigid orders against showing any sort of light at 
 night, and these extended even to cigarettes and il- 
 luminated wrist watches. We understood better 
 
24 BATTERY A 
 
 when we learned that at sea a lighted match can be 
 seen three miles away at night. Nothing could be 
 thrown overboard which might float and so give 
 away the path of the ship. These points were strongly 
 impressed on us before we sailed and, as an added 
 safeguard, we were ordered below decks when the 
 ''Adriatic" finally left the harbor on September 9. 
 Only those who had seen us embark would have 
 known that our ship carried troops. 
 
 We arrived at Halifax where we were to join our 
 convoy for the run through the submarine zone on 
 Tuesda}^ morning, September 11. Its harbor was 
 crowded with ships besides those which were to cross 
 with us: several Belgian Relief boats and a queer 
 Dutch steamer with an unpronounceable name in big 
 letters on her sides. Before anchoring we had passed 
 the city itself and it was not in sight from where we 
 lay. This was just as well for we had noticed a pier 
 marked "Boston" which gave us homesick qualms. 
 Our stay was short. We wrote home letters to be for- 
 warded to Washington and released on notice of our 
 safe arrival on the other side, and just before sunset 
 on Wednesday, when we were beginning to tire of the 
 scenery, the convoy slipped slowly down the harbor. 
 As we passed a British training ship the crew lined 
 the rail and her band played the "Star Spangled Ban- 
 ner". Before dark we were out of sight of land. 
 
 Our convoy comprised seven ships and an auxil- 
 iary gunboat which was immediately christened the 
 "Plattsburg Cruiser." One of the convoy was the 
 "Manchuria" also carrying troops although we were 
 the only representatives of the 26th Division. There 
 
EN AVANT 25 
 
 were also the "Orduna" and a cattle boat known as 
 the "Dummy" which heaved and pitched tremendous- 
 ly in rough water. Our speed was limited to that of 
 the slowest boat of the group, and probably never 
 exceeded 10 knots an hour, while our course was a 
 bewildering series of zig-zags. 
 
 These zig-zags were an important part of our de- 
 fensive measures and proved a most interesting feat- 
 ure. There were apparently several zig-zag combi- 
 nations to be executed on signals from the cruiser, 
 given at irregular intervals. They ranged from sim- 
 ple movements for quiet waters to an intricate set 
 of twists and turns for the danger zone, when each 
 ship seemed to be trying to sink as many of the con- 
 voy as possible before she herself went to the bottom. 
 Many were the hair raising moments when only a 
 few yards separated two great ships plunging to ap- 
 parent mutual destruction, and many were the false 
 submarine rumors which had their being when the 
 cruiser turned suddenly in a new direction as if some- 
 thing suspicious had been sighted on the horizon. 
 
 There was not much to do on the ship but sleep. 
 In the morning we had calisthenics, and boat drill in 
 the afternoon, and spent the rest of the time waiting 
 for the dinner bell. In order to allow the quarters to 
 be cleaned we were not allowed below decks in the 
 morning, and the Special Detail with kindred spirits 
 took that opportunity to get off in choice corners of 
 the deck and to perfect themselves in "buzzing" 
 and semaphoring. Almost everyone will remember 
 that. The general complaint was that it disturbed 
 sleepers, and it certainly was unfortunate that such 
 
26 BATTERY A 
 
 dearly acquired knowledge could never be put to prac- 
 tical use later. Such is war. 
 
 Two or three days out from Halifax the various 
 outfits on board were called on to furnish extra sub- 
 marine lookouts. At night this was unpleasant 
 work for the weather was often bitterly cold, but it 
 carried with it exemption from all other duties, al- 
 ways an advantage. Each lookout had a strong pair 
 of glasses and would doubtless have seen anything 
 that appeared. The best moment for sighting U- 
 boats was said to be at night when they lay on the 
 surface recharging their batteries, and theoretically 
 visible two miles away. 
 
 Submarines, of course, were very much in every- 
 one's mind, and life-boat drill was taken quite as seri- 
 ously as it deserved. The story, however, had it that 
 the ship's captain (who looked like King George and 
 had an excellent reputation for fooling the subs) could 
 not understand how we took it all so calmly. Most of 
 the other troops he had brought across had spent all 
 their time on deck with life belts on from the moment 
 the ship left port, while we had not taken kindly to the 
 belts nor shown any undue preference for the deck. 
 
 For all that, we had plenty of nervous moments. 
 There were crowds of porpoises following the ship, 
 and there is nothing that looks more like a torpedo 
 that a porpoise. There was also a surprise boat drill 
 one day. The signal — five blasts on the ship's whistle 
 — came without a moment's warning and disturbed 
 us, to say the least. There were, however, some who 
 claimed to have known what it was all along. Lastly, 
 there was an inquisitive ship which might have been 
 
EN AVANT 27 
 
 almost anything unpleasant and which was finally 
 shooed away by the cruiser. 
 
 The guard on board the ship which kept such order 
 as was necessary and looked for suspicious lights, 
 was furnished by each battery in turn. Our turn 
 happened to fall on the night of our entry into the 
 danger zone, the night before our Naval escort picked 
 us up. An extra guard was also posted to operate 
 water-tight doors, and every imaginable precaution 
 was taken to cover our lights. Even the chart house 
 was less brightly lighted, though it usually looked like 
 a store window at Christmas time; but the number of 
 carelessly screened port-holes seemed greater than 
 ever. Up in the first cabin it was easy enough to spot 
 the source of a light, but when we saw a gleam 
 through a port-hole in the side of the ship, it meant a 
 merry hunt until we got it covered; sometimes the 
 gleam would be imaginary, and sometimes it would 
 come from the engineers' mess where they could not 
 see the necessity of such a fuss anyway. They say 
 one of the passengers was a German sympathizer who 
 deliberately let a light show. He was certainly care- 
 less to say the least. 
 
 Our entry into the danger zone brought two inno- 
 vations with it. First, we were to stay on deck from 
 5.30 in the morning till 8 at night, barring meal times, 
 and we were to wear life belts at all times. The half- 
 light of the early morning makes observation very 
 difficult and such a time is ideal for submarine attacks. 
 Accordingly, we got up much earlier and remained at 
 our boat stations until breakfast time, when the criti- 
 cal period was considered past. As for the lifebelts, 
 
28 BATTERY A 
 
 they were not built for comfort and the general opin- 
 ion was that they would be in the way if we ever 
 struck the water. 
 
 On the afternoon of that first day we were picked 
 up by our escort, eight British destroyers. All hands 
 were watching for them, and finally they appeared on 
 the horizon, tiny dots which grew and took shape as 
 they came tearing up out of the sky line with their 
 dazzling signal lights winking out a message to our 
 fleet. They took up their positions without any fuss 
 whatever and took a load from our minds at the same 
 time. Beside our ship they looked like toys, but 
 very sinister toys, and whatever they did was done 
 with an air of confidence and efficiency that was most 
 reassuring. 
 
 So we gradually drew near the end of our trip. 
 We suffered in silence the food which the crew 
 seemed more disposed to sell us between meals than 
 to serve on the table. We absorbed all sorts of ru- 
 mors : that we were to pick up survivors of a tor- 
 pedoed ship, that the 4.7 gun at the stern really fired 
 at a submarine and not a floating barrel this noon, 
 that two of our escort got a U-boat the evening be- 
 fore. At last, after having passed within 70 miles 
 of Iceland, we came around by the north of Ireland 
 and saw land on the morning of September 22. Every- 
 body remembers how good it looked; sheer clififs of 
 Ireland rising out of the water with white farmhouses 
 and deep green fields marked off by white walls like 
 squares of a checkerboard visible as we passed close; 
 in the distance, a black smudge on the sky that they 
 said was Belfast, and once more the open water ahead 
 
EN AVANT 29 
 
 of us with the occasional boats of the submarine pa- 
 trol to remind us where we were. That morning we 
 had parted from the fleet ; our speed was greater now, 
 and just after dark we cast anchor off Liverpool, 
 where a revolving light kept us company until sun- 
 rise. 
 
 As a matter of fact we did not see the sunrise, 
 for there was a fine mist to greet us as we moved up 
 the Mersey to disembark on a rather crude landing 
 stage. Here we had our first glimpse of the British 
 army in the shape of some" very shiny officers and 
 some hard-boiled soldiers with campaign ribbons for 
 every affair back to the Norman Conquest. By 11 
 o'clock we were in trains of the London & North- 
 western Railway and moving out through an ancient 
 country where everything from railroad cars to 
 houses seemed to be in miniature. The land looked 
 as if it had been perpetually brushed and combed, 
 scrubbed, shaved, clipped and trimmed, like a garden 
 which was also a place of habitation and well cared 
 for in either capacity. We passed through Birming- 
 ham, through Oxford where the towers of the Uni- 
 versity showed through the trees in the distance, 
 then Winchester and finally, around eight in the even- 
 ing, came into the docks at Southampton. 
 
 Here again the Rumor Association brought us the 
 story that we were to go on board ship at once, but 
 we had heard such things before and were not sur- 
 prised when instead we piled blanket rolls on a motor 
 truck (they called it a "lorry" and made two very 
 distinct syllables out of it) and marched three miles, 
 through streets dimmed against air-raids, to a rest- 
 
30 BATTERY A 
 
 camp on Southampton Common. This rest camp was 
 a remarkable affair. Our part of it consisted of small 
 conical tents, smaller than Sibley tents, each having 
 a circular wooden floor, large enough for six men but 
 accommodating ten. To go with the tents, we were 
 at once issued blankets, but as soon as we had drawn 
 them we were ordered to take them back to the store 
 house again. This caused some hard feeling until we 
 learned that the previous users had been quarantined 
 South African negro troops and that, in the mean- 
 time, there had been no fumigation. 
 
 The next morning we found that we were not the 
 only American troops in camp, the others being regu- 
 lars from the Coast Artillery. They left early and we 
 followed in the afternoon, trying to keep step with 
 the band in which the drum was half a beat behind the 
 rest of the music, and boarded the little steamer 
 "Cesarea" for one more dart past the U-boats. We 
 took up every inch of available space and a man who 
 tried to find a more comfortable spot than the one he 
 occupied simply lost what he had: there were no com- 
 fortable spots! At dusk we slipped down the harbor, 
 anchored outside to wait the passing of a bright 
 moon, and dashed across the channel with an escort- 
 ing destroyer to find ourselves at Le Havre bright and 
 early in the morning. Some there are who say a tor- 
 pedo was actually fired at us as we crossed and that 
 we only escaped it by inches. It is at least possible. 
 On the dock we had breakfast of canned Willie and 
 hardtack under the shadow of a railroad station do- 
 ing war service as a hospital, and after satisfying the 
 curiosity of stray members of the Atkins' family, 
 
EN AVANT 31 
 
 marched another three miles or so, this time carrying 
 blanket rolls, past the docks and warehouses of a huge 
 supply base and past staring German prisoners who 
 insisted that we were nothing but English dressed up 
 to fool them, and into another rest camp, this time of 
 the hot, flat and dusty variety where we again met 
 the regulars we had seen at Southampton. "There 
 seems to be no end of you," remarked an English 
 officer, and it was good to answer that ten million 
 more of us were coming. 
 
 If we impressed our allies by our numbers, they 
 impressed us even more strongly by their experience. 
 We felt now that we were in the war for fair, and 
 absorbed with awe the several outward signs of it ; 
 cars and trucks in camouflage paint, aeroplane parts, 
 and whole ones as well, besides many other features 
 whose intent was perfectly plain. Our self-esteem 
 shrank and shrank as we talked to Tommies and 
 Poilus whose vast knowledge made us feel more and 
 more like earthworms. One old Britisher who had 
 been gassed and shell-shocked was particularly 
 gloomy in regard to our prospects. He regaled us 
 with harrowing tales and parted from us with the 
 injunction: "Be careful, lads. 'Jerry' is a grand gun- 
 ner!" 
 
 We stayed at Le Havre long enough to have one 
 meal and also a scrap with the regulars regarding 
 priority rights at the wash-troughs, and then marched 
 down to entrain. Somehow we couldn't believe it was 
 to be our fate to ride in freight cars, having come 
 across England third class, but the horrible truth was 
 apparent the minute we saw our train. When loaded, 
 
32 BATTERY A 
 
 there were not quite "Hommes 40" to a car, but it 
 was too close to that figure for comfort, and wooden 
 benches that were provided simply took up valuable 
 space without making a comfortable seat. The ar- 
 rival of a contingent of Australians returning from 
 hospitals in England furnished some diversion. They 
 greeted us enthusiastically and we found them a very 
 jolly, likeable crowd, with methods and manners more 
 like our own than like the English. 
 
 Finally, after dark, our train pulled out. We must 
 have passed through Rouen around midnight and our 
 first daylight stop was at Laigle, a little town where 
 we had some "cofifee." Laigle was only a name to 
 us: we did not know where we were nor what we 
 were bound for. The dearth of rumors was alarm- 
 ing, and it was a relief to learn at last that our des- 
 tination was Guer, near which there was an artillery 
 training camp. Guer was in Brittany, and further 
 training seemed very desirable when we thought of 
 various stories we had heard at Le Havre. Conse- 
 quently, we were not altogether discontented, and the 
 weather being good and the scenery interesting, we 
 spent a very pleasant day. We passed Alencon and 
 Laval, with their orderly rows of white stone houses, 
 and about five o'clock rolled into Rennes, where the 
 local Red Cross brought us out some very welcome 
 hot soup. 
 
 As darkness came and the evening chill set in, we 
 closed the side doors of the cars, and squirming into 
 less cramped positions, slept, soothed by the steady 
 rumble of the wheels beneath. 
 

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CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP 
 COETQUIDAN 
 
 A FTER the tedious ride of thirty hours in the 
 -^^ French "Pulh-nans" (8 chevaux — 40 hommes), 
 our train finally came to a stop at midnight Septem- 
 ber 26 when everyone was roused from slumber and 
 told to get out. The name of this place was of no in- 
 terest at all to us just then, but, as we learned later, it 
 was Guer. Our first experience in French troop trains 
 had been a very exhausting one so that sleep was the 
 primary consideration. After lining up and calling 
 roll, the command "at rest" was given; whereupon the 
 Battery sank to the ground in its tracks and went 
 sound asleep without even removing equipment. 
 
 In about an hour the order came to start for camp. 
 About 200 yards from the station large trucks were 
 waiting. "Standing room only" applied here; for- 
 tunately the ride was not very long. The trucks, 
 however, did not land us at our barracks : there was 
 what seemed several miles of marching, although ac- 
 tually about half a mile, to reach our first "home" in 
 France. In spite of cement floors, everyone again 
 fell asleep at once. The next morning we were al- 
 lowed to sleep until eight o'clock, a very unusual oc- 
 currence in the army. We were also given the day 
 off to recuperate from the trip. 
 
 The camp where we were to get our training was 
 named Coetquidan. It was situated in the depart- 
 ment Ile-et-Vilaine in Brittany, about forty kilo- 
 
34 . BATTERY A 
 
 meters south of Rennes, and about 30 kilometers east 
 of St. Nazaire, the big sea-port. An interesting his- 
 torical fact about the camp is that it was founded by 
 Napoleon. More recently it had been used as a firing 
 ground for experimental and captured guns. Being 
 the first arrivals, the 101st F. A. was quartered in 
 the old original barracks. These were one-story 
 stone structures with the cement floors mentioned 
 above. As the camp grew, a great many wooden 
 buildings of the Adrian type were put up, until it 
 could hardly be recognized as the camp to which we 
 came. 
 
 The neighboring country was very different from 
 New England. No fences could be seen, but hedges, 
 earth banks, or rows of trees separated the lots. The 
 land was divided into apple orchards and pastures 
 with an occasional patch of brush or clump of pine, 
 giving the effect of a rather shabby checker board in 
 different shades of green. The camp was situated on 
 the shoulder of a sort of plateau which sloped slowly 
 up from Guer, descended sharply into a valley then 
 rose more gradually into hills covered by fine forests 
 chiefly pine and oak. 
 
 Most of this opposite slope constituted the range. 
 Several deserted villages afforded excellent targets as 
 did the corners of hedges and a road. Since the ter- 
 rain sloped back from the crest, there were plenty 
 of positions for indirect firing. In fact, the slightly 
 rolling nature of the country was almost ideal for an 
 artillery range. 
 
 The first impression of France upon the Battery 
 was universally good. The people were very cordial 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 35 
 
 and the few french soldiers appeared interested in us. 
 Very near the camp was Coquinville, a row of houses, 
 chiefly cafes and "galeries militaires," all making 
 their living off the soldiers. Needless to say, the 
 Americans patronized them freely. At the small vil- 
 lages of St. Malo de Beignon, Beignon, and Guer, all 
 within a radius of five kilometers, we could buy choco- 
 late, cheese, butter occasionally, a little "confiture" 
 or jam, and small needs like candles, shoe-brushes, 
 briquets, etc. At that time, the villages were inter- 
 esting and picturesque with the stone houses and 
 red tile roofs. We had not had the intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the dirty streets, manure piles, gloomy hay- 
 lofts and narrow-minded inhabitants that we later 
 enjoyed. The presence of some 2,000 German pris- 
 oners dressed in shabby Grey or vivid Green with 
 P. G. printed on the seats of their pants made the 
 war seem closer. 
 
 The first couple of weeks we had neither guns nor 
 horses; therefore most of the time was devoted to 
 conditioning. There was also much practice by the 
 entire Battery in "flag-flapping," (signalling with 
 flags) it being the mistaken idea that every man 
 should be an expert signaller. Many short hikes 
 around the country were taken, made pleasanter by 
 frequent long hedges of blackberries growing along 
 the roads, waiting to be eaten at every halt. 
 
 It became a custom to get passes on Sunday in 
 order to walk to some town, take dinner, and conie 
 back in the afternoon. Many trips were made to 
 Phelan, Paimpont, Augan, Campeneac, and even 
 Ploermel, 20 kilometers distant. The first of these 
 
36 BATTERY A 
 
 trips was a memorable affair. On the first Sunday 
 in camp when we were expecting- a good loaf, a "com- 
 pulsory pleasure" hike was instituted. The trip was 
 to Paimpont, about eight kilometers, to see a very an- 
 cient Abbey there. In trying to make a short cut, the 
 Battery succeeded in adding two kilometers to tie 
 distance and the pace set by Captain Huntington will 
 long be remembered. The Abbey, however, was very 
 interesting, dating from 1200, with fine carving* and 
 good windows. We also found a store with French 
 bread, jam and cheese which made a better meal than 
 the hard-tack and "willy" we were carrying. 
 
 Besides these Sunday passes, nearly every man 
 in the Battery had one pass to Rennes during the 
 stay at Coetquidan. These were only from 6 a. m. to 
 taps, but even this short time gave a great relief 
 from the monotonous routine of camp life. There 
 were movies, street-cars, and the excellent French 
 pastry which had not yet been entirely defendu. Per- 
 haps the greatest luxury was to get a room at the 
 Hotel Moderne and take a real bath in a real bath 
 tub. Rennes is not a large city nor particularly beau- 
 tiful, but was a welcome sight to our eyes after St. 
 Malo, Beignon, etc. Even the tiresome ride in the 
 narrow-gauge, toy train did not prevent our going a 
 second time if possible. 
 
 When we first arrived at Coetquidan, the organi- 
 zation for feeding was very poor. Only French bread 
 was available, frequently not even that. For meat 
 there was "willy" or else fresh killed local beef, tough 
 and stringy. Mess was regimental; that is, all bat- 
 teries ate from the same kitchen, and there were long 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 37 
 
 periods of waiting in line while it seemed that every 
 other battery went through ahead. That period will 
 always be remembered as the worst fed of any. Con- 
 tinuous "slum", bacon, and "canned Bill" with an 
 O. D. liquid called coffee was the opposite of appe- 
 tizing and certainly not nourishing as half the bat- 
 tery were made sick by it. Fortunately this only 
 lasted until October 13, when the batteries started 
 to mess separately. Gradually supplies came through 
 better and better until we were feeding very well at 
 the end. Incidentally, the Battery fund helped a 
 great deal in buying extras. All will remember Mess 
 Sergeant Joe Wilner rushing around "for the good 
 of the Bat'ry". 
 
 As living on the regular mess was almost impos- 
 sible, every one financially able ate at least one meal 
 per day at one of the cafes. The most popular ones 
 were La Chapelle, Montauban, and the Hotel Belle- 
 vue. Patrons of La Chapelle will remember plump 
 little "toot sweet — toot sweet" with her "feeneesh", 
 "na ploo" and "demain." At first, prices were very 
 reasonable. Omelettes of ten to twenty eggs were 
 common at 50 centimes (10 cents) per egg. A good 
 helping of beef or veal cost one or one and a half 
 francs. There was some butter, "confitures" while 
 they lasted, cheese and some poultry. But the Amer- 
 icans quickly ate up all the surplus food in the region, 
 so that prices went rapidly up. The French were not 
 slow in noticing that the American soldier had con- 
 siderable money and would pay almost any price, 
 partly from desire to buy, partly from ignorance of 
 proper values. Although at the time we did not con- 
 
38 BATTERY A 
 
 sider our quarters and living conditions anything re- 
 markable, later, when at the front we appreciated 
 their comfort and would willingly have been back. 
 Everyone had a cot with springs and mattress. Each 
 room had one or two stoves for which coal was issued. 
 Commencing with October 19, there were electric 
 lights (when they weren't out of order), the wiring 
 having been done by the men since their arrival. There 
 was also the luxurious "Salle des Bains" where we 
 could indulge in tub baths. All these advantages, 
 coupled with practically no night work, made it a 
 comparatively soft life in spite of the drill schedule 
 from "first call" at 5 :45 a. m. to "retreat" at 4:30 p. m. 
 
 At our arrival, the Battery was completely green. 
 The month at Boxford had afforded practically no 
 experience of value. The mechanism and fire of the 
 French "75" had to be mastered. The drivers had to 
 learn how to care for their horses and take the car- 
 riages over any kind of ground or fences. The offi- 
 cers had the administration of the Battery and prep- 
 aration and conduct of fire to learn. Methods of com- 
 munication and use of fire-control instruments were 
 unknown. For the instruction of all this, there were 
 several French officers who had seen much service, 
 and a number of men from the First Division who had 
 had some experience at the Front, mostly gunner cor- 
 porals, to teach the gun-crews and telephone men. 
 Schools for telephone and wireless were established, 
 but it may be noted that these taught very little that 
 was of practical worth. 
 
 On October 6 the guns arrived. These were the 
 famous French 75 millimetre guns of which we had 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 39 
 
 heard so much. We soon realized why their reputa- 
 tion was so great. It is interesting to note that two 
 of these guns lasted with us through all our fighting. 
 One fired 14,000 rounds, the other 12,000 rounds. No 
 drill regulations had been published in English and 
 very few in French were available. A provisional 
 gun-drill, however, was arranged, and work began on 
 October 8. Starting from the beginning, the first 
 problems were simple, direct firing with direct ob- 
 servation, while the officers learned how to bracket a 
 target and judge the bursts correctly. This gradu- 
 ally changed, as we learned the game, into more com- 
 plicated firing. As horses did not arrive until later, 
 the guns were drawn out on the range by auto trucks. 
 Coetquidan had its full share of rich French mud; 
 therefore it was a common sight to see trucks and 
 guns stuck all over the range. 
 
 By the 10th of November horses were issued to 
 the Battery; whereupon the training approached ac- 
 tual war conditions. Guns were taken around by the 
 horses, eliminating most of the getting stuck, al- 
 though there were enough accidents to harness and 
 poles, to give the caisson corporals a chance to use 
 their ingenuity. Reconnaissance could be properly 
 carried out. The men assigned to driving were given 
 more of an object in life than watching the drill of 
 the cannoneers. 
 
 The inexperience of the drivers in their first strug- 
 gles with those "beamish" creatures, the horses, led 
 to many humorous accidents, but fortunately none 
 more serious than to give someone a couple of weeks' 
 rest on account of a lame leg. Of all the horses, "Lil" 
 
40 BATTERY A 
 
 of the old 7th Section was the most notorious. Prob- 
 ably half the Battery received souvenirs of her heels, 
 for she was naturally vicious and ignorance of her 
 personality was, to her, no excuse for the proximity 
 of any human being. Her regular driver, Clarence 
 Smith, developed a more or less safe way of harness- 
 ing, but not wholly according to drill regulations. One 
 day Major Richardson noticed that the harnessing 
 was unusual and went up to correct it. But "lese 
 majeste" meant nothing to "Lil" who planted a solid 
 heel in the Major's stomach. Upon explanation, he 
 agreed that under certain conditions the drill regu- 
 lations could give way to ''Safety First." 
 
 One of the greatest bores of existence was the 
 watering of the horses. The trip to the troughs by 
 the muddy road in every variety of weather with 
 from two to six unruly horses was anything but 
 pleasant. Many were the splashings, falls, and curses. 
 The old 7th Section will also remember Charlton's 
 wild trips back to the stables when "Pete" and 
 "Shrimp" were in a hurry to get to their oats. He 
 wouldn't let go of their heads, but his feet touched the 
 ground perhaps every twenty or thirty yards. One 
 cold day in the winter when the troughs were frozen, 
 the Battery was obliged to go to the "fish-pond" be- 
 low St. Malo. One of the newly "issued" Lieuten- 
 ants was in charge. In the midst of proceedings, 
 his saddle slipped badly and he dismounted more or 
 less gracefully. The horse was nervous, and in trying 
 to hold him, the Lieutenant stepped over the bank 
 into water up to his neck. No harm done, but much 
 laughter. 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 41 
 
 With the arrival of the horses came the necessary 
 instruction in equitation. Up to the last month, bat- 
 tery drills were considered of primary importance, no 
 pure equitation drills being given, but the last month 
 considerable time w^as spent on it. It v^as not at all 
 a popular job with the officers ; therefore, usually the 
 reserve officers were "stuck." A great many of them 
 knew much less of horsemanship than the men they 
 were instructing, and frequently were unfortunate in 
 their choice of men to criticise. The climax was when 
 Lieutenant Clarke and Sergeant James were cor- 
 rected on some minor point, both in the same after- 
 noon. This was greatly enjoyed as those two men 
 were probably the best horsemen in the Regiment. 
 
 A month after our arrival, General Pershing came 
 to the camp to inspect the 101st Regiment F. A. This 
 was a typical affair of its kind. Originally ordered for 
 11.45, we waited in formation for about an hour. Then 
 we were dismissed for mess. Finally the inspection 
 occurred about two o'clock. While not confirmed, 
 there was a very persistent rumor than the General 
 commented on the Regiment as being a troop of "Boy 
 Scouts in Burlap." 
 
 The two holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, 
 were suitably celebrated by tremendous meals and 
 entertainments by Battery talent in the evening. For 
 some time before each, the country and nearby cities 
 were scoured for turkey, vegetables, fruit, etc. Holly 
 and mistletoe were plentiful, as well as evergreens 
 with which the mess-shack was decorated for the oc- 
 casions. By Christmas, we had constructed a large 
 stone fireplace in the mess-shack where it was very 
 
42 BATTERY A 
 
 pleasant to sit around "swapping stories" and eating 
 the apples kindly sent by Mr. Chapin. 
 
 In the course of instruction, the telephone men 
 paid the penalty of being the first in the camp. They 
 dug the system of wire trenches which they were 
 taught should be done in every sector. They had to 
 put up the poles, string the wires, and construct the 
 centrals for most of the telephone system through- 
 out the camp and range. Along the same line, the 
 Battery had to put up some of its own and officers' 
 quarters. 
 
 On the third of January the Battery received the 
 first "issue" of reserve officers. These were the grad- 
 uates of the first series of Officers' Training Schools 
 who had been to Saumur, the French Artillery School, 
 and now were assigned to various outfits in France 
 for experience with the men. They were regarded 
 with a certain distrust and resentment by the men 
 and therefore their life was not very comfortable. 
 
 During this training period there were numerous 
 changes in the personnel of the Battery. Sergeant 
 Blackmur and Corporal Furness finally heard from 
 examinations which they had taken before leaving 
 Boxford, and were commissioned with the Regular 
 Army. Furness was assigned to the First Division, 
 and fought the war with Battery C of the 7th F. A. 
 After its being rumored for some time, Sergeants 
 Storer, Knauth, and Durant received commissions in 
 the Regiment. Lieutenant Storer was assigned to 
 A Battery, Lieutenant Knauth to B Battery, and 
 Lieutenant Durant to D Battery. At the same time, 
 Lieutenant F. Knauth was transferred to C Battery, 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 43 
 
 being replaced by Lieutenant MacNamee. Lieutenant 
 Kirwan was transferred to Headquarters Co., as was 
 Lieutenant Plummer. The next change was when 
 Sergeants Merriam and Hoar were sent to Saumur, 
 November 25. Lastly, Sergeant Gammell received a 
 commission in the Intelligence Department. This 
 left the battery with ''Rip" Gage as top Sergeant, and 
 Sergeants Johnson, Kunhardt, Bird (acting), DeVeau, 
 Catton, Ripley, James, and Faulkner as section chiefs 
 in numerical order. Beck was Signal Sergeant; Al- 
 len, acting Instrument Sergeant; Wilner, Mess Ser- 
 geant; Tornrose, Stable Sergeant; Fall, Supply Ser- 
 geant. 
 
 One of the big events of the four months was the 
 Bazaar given by the Red Cross ladies of Rennes. It 
 was held in the Y. M. C. A. building December 15-16. 
 In spite of the fact that the French girls could not talk 
 English, nor could many of the soldiers talk French, 
 it was a great success if judged by the amount of 
 money spent. Possibly curiosity to see what the 
 much-talked-of "mademoiselles" looked like added to 
 the attendance. They did look very pretty in their 
 trim Red Cross uniforms. 
 
 In the meantime, training was steadily progress- 
 ing. The cannoneers became expert in firing the 
 pieces. The drivers learned to take their carriages 
 everywhere and to handle horses properly in all sit- 
 uations. From direct firing on simple targets, we 
 took up indirect firing, studied the proper shell and 
 fuse to use on different targets, had problems simu- 
 lating actual conditions, and even practiced rolling 
 barrages. The officers learned to prepare fire very 
 
44 BATTERY A 
 
 accurately, taking account of weather conditions, etc. 
 They had practice in forward, lateral, and bi-lateral 
 observation. From battery problems there came bat- 
 talion, regimental, and finally, brigade problems. 
 
 After being rumored and rather dreaded for over 
 a week, our first "J Day" was ordered in a regular 
 operations order. The whole procedure for a drive 
 was carried out. The ground was reconnoitered by the 
 Colonels, Majors, then Battery Commanders with 
 their Special Details. The guns were pulled into posi- 
 tion the day before and "registered" for the barrage. 
 The actual firing was very simple — one shot per min- 
 ute for thirty minutes with regularly lengthening 
 range for the rolling barrages. This was the first 
 chance given to see the results of a concentration of 
 fire on any area. It was an interesting sight to see 
 the opposite slope fairly smoking. The barrage by 
 the "75's" gradually crept over the fields, hedges, and 
 lines of dummy trenches. The "155's" played on the 
 ruined towns, or neutralized suspected enemy bat- 
 teries and machine-gun emplacements. It gave a 
 very good conception, on a small scale, of a real 
 attack. 
 
 Just previous to "J Day" there was the big inspec- 
 tion to judge whether the brigade was ready for ac- 
 tive service. This was by far the worst of its kind 
 we had been through. Including the preliminary 
 washing, cleaning and policing of persons, harness, 
 guns and barracks, it spoiled a good three days. The 
 rumor then was that General Lassiter was satisfied, 
 but recommended another month of training. Soon 
 it became evident we would not go to the front im- 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 45 
 
 mediately, for a rather different system of training 
 was instituted. 
 
 In this new phase much attention was paid to open 
 warfare; that is, ever changing conditions involving 
 rapid shift of position and preparation of fire. Prob- 
 lems were given on the shortest notice. The Battery 
 would start out with no orders beyond being at a 
 specified place at a certain time. There the situation 
 was explained, whether it was an advance or a re- 
 treat, and missions given the different batteries. Only 
 roads affording concealment from enemy observation 
 could be used. Competition between the batteries 
 to be able to report "ready to fire" was very keen at 
 first. Another "J Day" was successfully accomplished. 
 Finally, there was fire adjustment by aeroplane and 
 by balloon. 
 
 On these open warfare problems the "Detail" was 
 rather envied by the Batter}^ As soon as the Cap- 
 tain received his instructions, he blew three blasts on 
 his whistle. At this signal, they would go full gallop 
 from the end of the line to the head, and sometimes 
 all the way to the position without slowing down. 
 Why no one was badly thrown, tearing through un- 
 derbrush over slippery, frozen ground has never been 
 explained. 
 
 At the same time practice was given on all-day 
 road-hikes. The hardest, yet most interesting, was 
 that of January 9 when half the Battery went to 
 Paimpont and back through Les Forges and the Foret 
 de Paimpont. The day before about four inches of 
 snow had fallen and the ground was frozen, leaving 
 the roads in the most treacherously slippery condi- 
 
46 BATTERY A 
 
 tion possible. It was by far the severest test the 
 drivers had undergone, but they rose to the situation 
 wonderfully. Even going down the steep hill north 
 of the camp, there was very little trouble, although 
 there were few horses who did not fall at least once. 
 In the Foret de Paimpont was some of the most beau- 
 tiful scenery imaginable. As in all French forests, 
 the trees were perfectly trimmed and .all underbrush 
 cleared away. Every bough and twig was fringed 
 with snow and the ground spotless white, a sharp 
 contrast with the dark green pine needles. At one 
 place the road led down a straight incline where 
 could be seen in front and behind, the whole column 
 with the bright red guidons standing out sharply 
 against the khaki and white. It was a sight not 
 quickly forgotten. However, as usual in the army, 
 this pleasant ride was changed suddenly by "can- 
 noneers on the wheels" and a hard tug to get the guns 
 back up the hill to camp. 
 
 The other half of the Battery went a week later 
 on a trip through Louiteshel, Maxent and Guer. And 
 there was one more trip to Phelan, Les Forges and 
 Beignon. Neither of these was so interesting as the 
 first. Still, everywhere different things came up, giv- 
 ing the drivers more and varied experience. 
 
 Thus we completed our preliminary training for 
 service. Looking back on it, it seems that the Bat- 
 tery received as much instruction as possible without 
 actual experience on the front. The cannoneers could 
 fire rapidly and accurately. They had some practice 
 in preparing gun-pits. The drivers knew how to han- 
 dle their horses and could put the guns and caissons 
 
TRAINING PERIOD AT CAMP COETQUIDAN 47 
 
 wherever necessary, and the officers had a good the- 
 oretical training in picking out positions, conduct of 
 fire and observation. 
 
 Throughout the stay at Coetquidan, the Battery's 
 health was uniformly good in spite of much of 
 France's "best weather." Several men had severe 
 bronchitis and coughs but there were no deaths. For 
 about six weeks commencing December 18, the Regi- 
 ment was quarantined on account of several cases 
 of spinal meningitis in the 2nd Battalion, but no one 
 in the Battery was affected. It was very fortunate 
 that at this time packages were still coming in from 
 America, Otherwise we should have been very short 
 of tobacco, chocolate, etc., while cut off from oppor- 
 tunities to buy them. 
 
 As in all army life, one of the chief diversions was 
 swapping rumors. Some of the wildest are worth 
 mentioning. At the beginning the general impres- 
 sion was that we would train at Coetquidan for 4-6 
 months before going by gradual stages to the front. 
 The last of October, a man claimed he saw the sched- 
 ule for the next 6 months, and it included 4 weeks 
 at the front. On October 24 a rumor sprang up that 
 Mexico and Japan had declared war on the United 
 States, and that we were to return within a week. 
 Towards the end of November rumors became thick 
 that we should leave very soon, probably for the re- 
 gion around Chaumont where the infantry were. 
 These grew thicker in the first part of December but 
 suddenly died out. About December 15 came the 
 first of the many rumors that the 101st F. A. would 
 go home as instructors after a short stay at the front. 
 
48 BATTERY A 
 
 Later on we expected our own officers to go to school, 
 while we had "Plattsburgers" for a time. In the mid- 
 dle of January we began again to talk of leaving. 
 About the same time the first of the peace rumors 
 came along. Lastly, on January 24, we suddenly 
 heard that there would be no newspapers for five days 
 on account of Austria's acceptance of peace terms. 
 
 After numerous contradictory reports, the orders 
 finally came in for us to leave. We spent January 31 
 in packing up and cleaning out the barracks. As usual 
 they were left cleaner than we found them. As roll- 
 ing packs was still a fearsome job, we did them up 
 during the day and slept in our overcoats. The next 
 morning we rose at 5 :30 and tore around wildly to 
 harness and hitch. 
 
 At 7:45 the Regiment, in battle array with guns, 
 caissons, tin hats, gas masks, (and misgivings) took 
 the road for the front, the entire camp in silence 
 watching us go by; — green with envy, yet very glad 
 of their sure night's sleep. 
 
SHELL TORN CHLI,. 
 
 35EMY IN SOISSONS SECTOR 
 
 THE SECOND SECTION GUN PIT ON THE CHEMIN 
 
 DES DAMES, FEBRUARY, 1918 SHOWING SAND 
 
 BAG WALLS AND 1-4 INCH CORRUGATED 
 
 ROOF THE GUN IS 'LAID 
 BARRAGE 
 
 IRON 
 ON THE NORMAL 
 
 THIRD PIECE AT COETQUIDAN MANNED BY ITS GUN CREW 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHEMIN DES DAMES 
 
 A FTER a short hike from Camp Coetquidan, we 
 '^ reached the station at Guer about noon. For 
 hours we waited, while other units entrained. Event- 
 ually our turn came, and we drew into the freight 
 yards. The loading platform, or ramp, was a solid 
 embankment of stone and cinders retained by con- 
 crete walls. A sloping roadway led from the ground 
 to either end of the ramp, which was somewhat less 
 than a hundred yards long and fifteen wide. As the 
 track ran alongside, it brought the floor of a freight 
 car on a level with and only a few inches from the 
 surface of the ramp. The train that was to carry 
 Battery A was waiting on the track, and we began 
 entraining at once. The flat cars were in the middle, 
 and the ridiculously small box cars were at both ends 
 of the train, extending well beyond the ramp. Al- 
 though these "soap boxes on wheels" were marked 
 "40 Hommes-8 Chevaux," it seemed impossible at 
 first to force in such a number. Later we were to 
 learn that there is absolutely no limit to the number 
 of men that can be put into a box car. Guns, caissons, 
 and wagons were driven up on the ramp. The horses 
 were then unhitched, and led ofif to be unharnessed. 
 
 This first stage completed, the hard part began. 
 Short, heavy gangways were put into position, run- 
 ning from the ground to the car doors. The horse 
 that did not at once take a violent dislike to these cat- 
 tle cars was a rare exception. The great majority ob- 
 jected strongly to so much as setting foot on the 
 
50 BATTERY A 
 
 gangway. Then the drivers were forced to call on 
 all their reserve patience, resource, and strength. 
 Some of the horses were blindfolded and led into the 
 car before they realized where they were. Others 
 were lead as far as possible, and then induced by 
 well applied boots and whips to continue farther. 
 The most stubborn were pushed and dragged into 
 the cars, backed into place with the others, and tied 
 by their halter-ropes to rings in the roofs. 
 
 Meanwhile, the guns and caissons had been packed 
 on the flat cars and securely lashed in place. Rolling 
 the heavily loaded wagons from the ramp on the short 
 French cars was more difficult. There was not room 
 enough to turn the wagons, and it was practically 
 necessary to lift the whole wagon to get it properly 
 placed. But there is an end to all things, and at last 
 the train started on its way: toward the front was 
 all we knew; Lorraine, Belgium, anything, seemed 
 possible. 
 
 In the box cars the men were arranging their 
 equipment and spreading on the floor what little hay 
 they had been able to lay hands on. In each horse car 
 two drivers were left as guards to look after the 
 animals. It was their duty to feed the horses, 
 straighten out the tangles they got into, and generally 
 try to keep perfect peace among 8 nervous and fright- 
 ened steeds. Three times a day when the train made 
 a stop of 15 minutes or more at some station, the 
 drivers turned out and carried buckets of water to 
 the thirsty horses. At the same time, coffee made in 
 the rolling kitchen on one of the flat cars was served. 
 Doubly welcome it was, to combat the cold that 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 51 
 
 chilled us through, and to wash down the hard-tack 
 and corned "Willie" that were distributed as travel 
 rations. 
 
 The next afternoon found us moving towards 
 Soissons through country scarred by crumbling 
 trenches and rusted wire. A little before sunset we 
 detrained just outside of Soissons. Unloading is a 
 much quicker process than loading, but the lack of 
 proper ramps here forced us to lower the guns from 
 car to ground by hand, without any loading platforms. 
 Here the familiar winding roads and hedges of Brit- 
 tany were exchanged for long, straight roads, flanked 
 by tall, slender poplars. Houses shattered by shell 
 fire and air raids, and signs "Abri 20 Personnes," 
 "Cave — 40 Personnes" showed that we were truly in 
 the war zone. As we entered the city in the early 
 darkness, an air raid alarm sent French soldiers and 
 civilians scurrying to shelter. In the darkness and 
 cold we parked guns and wagons. Then the drivers 
 rode off to stables, located they knew not where, to 
 unharness, water and feed the horses. Eventually 
 the whole Battery made their way to the Abbey of 
 Soissons Cathedral. In this historic building, which 
 had housed troops through a score of wars, we spent 
 the night. 
 
 Preceded by a reconnaissance detail, the Battery 
 left Soissons early next morning. As we marched 
 along the road between the borders of poplars that 
 are so much a part of every French landscape, some 
 one shouted and pointed toward the sky. High over- 
 head, surrounded by white puffs of shrapnel, we could 
 just discern several German aeroplanes. Soon the 
 
52 BATTERY A 
 
 sky was filled with tiny, white clouds, but the Ger- 
 mans flew back to their lines unharmed. In Sermoise, 
 the first village through which we passed, not a build- 
 ing had escaped the touch of war. Crowds of French 
 soldiers watched us curiously, but no civilians. To- 
 wards noon we reached Chassemy, even more bat- 
 tered than Sermoise, and went on to a nearby wood. 
 Here stables and wooden barracks of the Adrian type 
 had been built for us. As these barracks could hold 
 only a part of the Battery the rest took to the tumbled 
 down dugouts, of which the woods were full. Al- 
 though the only building materials obtainable were 
 scraps of old iron and tar-paper, these Robinson 
 Crusoe huts soon became the most exclusive resi- 
 dences. Water oozed from the mud everywhere, but 
 a long trip was necessary to obtain any for drink- 
 ing, cooking, or washing. The horses had to be taken 
 half a mile to a small brook for water. As the Amer- 
 ican supply service in this sector was not yet organ- 
 ized, it was even more difficult to obtain rations or 
 other supplies. 
 
 The following day, February 4, a reconnaissance 
 party, made up of two officers, the instrument and 
 signal sergeants, and the two scout corporals, left 
 for the front at four in the morning. There was some 
 speculation as to the purpose of their trip, but no one 
 believed that we would actually go to the front for 
 at least a week. Late that afternoon they returned. 
 Although a day of climbing muddy hills had exhaust- 
 ed them, excitement concealed their fatigue. We 
 were to go into position that very night ! 
 
 Great was the disappointment when it was found 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 53 
 
 that everyone could not go. Only the gun crews, 
 some of the telephone and instrument men, three ma- 
 chine gunners, one scout, two cooks, and two me- 
 chanics could go. The greater part of the Battery 
 had to remain there in the woods to form the echelon, 
 a term we borrowed from the French. It included 
 the drivers, and all cannoneers, telephonists, instru- 
 ment men, mechanics, and cooks not required at the 
 front. The stables, or picket lines for the horses, 
 were also a part of it as were the caissons and wag- 
 ons, rolling kitchen and water cart. The echelon, 
 which is generally just out of range, serves as a base 
 of supplies from which all ammunition, food, water, 
 and other materials are sent to the firing battery at 
 the front. The firing battery consists of about fifty 
 men at a time — ^just enough to fire the guns and main- 
 tain communications. 
 
 After a couple of hours of frantic preparations, 
 the firing battery started for that strange place of 
 which we had heard so much and yet knew so little, 
 the front. It was still light as we passed through 
 Chassemy and on towards the river Aisne. We 
 crossed the Aisne at Vailly. Once a beautiful and 
 prosperous town, Vailly had suflfered heavy bombard- 
 ments. Great holes were torn in the walls and roofs 
 of buildings. Here and there a cellar filled with tum- 
 bled masses of masonry marked a house completely 
 destroyed. Yet the streets were in good repair. 
 French soldiers from balloon and truck companies 
 were comfortably settled in patched-up houses, and 
 French army stores and bathing plants gave an air 
 of stability to the half-destroyed town. Continuing 
 
54 BATTERY A 
 
 on our way in the gathering darkness, we wound 
 along the road to Ostel. Five or six kilometers be- 
 yond Vailly, we came to a cross-road where a large 
 sign bore the word, "Ostel." Presumably this was the 
 village of Ostel; yet we had to peer into the darkness 
 intently before we saw the heaps of stone that told 
 us men had once had their homes there. From Guy 
 Empey and various war correspondents, we had 
 learned of the "hell" that Sherman made famous. 
 Stories of gas and H.E. (high explosive) shells, shrap- 
 nel, and whizz-bangs were uppermost in our minds. 
 Nevertheless, it was not until we halted on the steep 
 hill, just below our position, that any shells fell near 
 us. Now the Boches began shelling a French battery 
 position beside us. 
 
 Although no splinters reached us, the whine and 
 crash of the shells made any orders to work fast quite 
 unnecessary. No lights of any sort could be used, 
 because of the danger of observation by Boche aero- 
 planes. By skillful driving, the four guns were 
 brought safely past trenches, shell holes, and barbed 
 wire to the gun pits. As rapidly as possible we put 
 the guns into position, and unloaded the two wagons 
 that carried kitchen, anti-gas, and personal equip- 
 ment, telephones, observing instruments, and tools. 
 Then we sought our dugouts. Nor was this quite as 
 easy as it sounds. It was pitch dark. Trenches 
 wound in all directions, and the dugouts were lo- 
 cated here, there, and everywhere. 
 
 This position, we found, had been built by the 
 French but had been abandoned for some time. As 
 long as we could preserve the camouflage of aban- 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 55 
 
 donment, we would probably escape shelling. The 
 gun pits, though not even splinter-proof, were dry 
 and ready for immediate use. The dugouts, too, were 
 dry, fitted with bunks and safe against ordinary shell- 
 ing. Several thousand rounds of ammunition were 
 stored in dumps scattered about the position. There 
 was a kitchen, half dugout, half shed, ready for use. 
 
 About a kilometer in front of us, on the same 
 ridge, was the famous road which gave its name to 
 the whole sector, the Chemin des Dames. Only in 
 name, however, was it a road; a sign, placed by the 
 French, was the only thing that distinguished it from 
 the rest of that shell-plowed ridge. Directly behind 
 us lay Ostel, and several kilometers farther back, the 
 Aisne. No matter where one looked, the view recalled 
 the terrific battle that had been waged ten months 
 before, when the French crossed the Aisne and cap- 
 tured the Chemin des Dames. Shell hole lapping shell 
 hole, rusty wire, blackened stumps, and bits of old 
 equipment formed the landscape. Running through 
 our position, the Boyau Schonniker, an old German 
 communication trench, was a constant reminder that 
 the Boches had been there before us. 
 
 The 9th Battery of the 51st Regiment of French 
 Field Artillery was in position only a few hundred 
 yards from us, ready to help us whenever we might 
 need them. We were brigaded with the 11th French 
 Army Corps, and all our orders came from them. 
 
 It was the night of February 4 that we went into 
 position. The next morning the whole Battery hiked 
 to Vailly to go through the gas chamber. A gas cham- 
 ber is simply an air-tight room used in training troops 
 
56 BATTERY A 
 
 against gas. We entered the room and put on our 
 French masks. A large amount of gas was then re- 
 leased. An instructor explained that the gas in the 
 chamber was stronger than any we should ever en- 
 counter at the front. As we had not noticed it at all 
 with our masks on, we felt that we had very little 
 to fear from gas. Next each man changed to his 
 English mask, holding his breath during the process. 
 As soon as we found that we were equally safe with 
 our English masks, we left the chamber. The French 
 masks we were using were made up of a great many 
 layers of gauze, saturated with chemicals. Two mica 
 eyepieces gave us fair vision. The English mask, or 
 box respirator, was very similar to the American 
 mask, which was later issued. 
 
 Upon our return from Vailly, the guns were laid 
 on the Moulin Rouge; that is, so pointed in range 
 and direction that a shot should strike the Moulin 
 Rouge. In the afternoon we gathered around the 
 first piece, the guidon was hung up in the gun pit, a 
 message chalked on the first shell. At 3 :45 p. m., 
 February 5, the first shot fired in action by the Na- 
 tional Guard crashed into the German lines. The first 
 piece fired until its exact range and deflection for the 
 Moulin Rouge were known, and then the other three 
 pieces in turn were fired on the same target. The 
 first piece gun crew which fired the first shot con- 
 sisted of Sgt. James, CpL Abbott, Pvt. 1st class 
 Lawrence, Pvts. Martin and Sawyer. Of these men, 
 all but Abbott were later killed or wounded. The 
 shell case of the first shell fired was presented to Col. 
 Sherburne, and eventually was sent to the Governor 
 
M- 
 
 
 
 
 ■i' 
 
 He:- 
 -1 ^ «- 
 
'- - . :^.-~.^i'^^4r 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 57 
 
 of Massachusetts. 
 
 From then on we did very Httle firing, but a great 
 deal of work. The firing was mainly harrassing, or 
 sniping, directed from some observation post; the 
 w^ork, construction of dugouts and improvements of 
 the gun pits. From 5.30, when we dragged ourselves 
 out of bed, till darkness fell, rest was unknown. We 
 stumbled down hill with our gas masks on, took them 
 off, and trudged up again, carrying sandbags, timbers, 
 iron, or ammunition. This system was very efBcient 
 for we never wasted a breath. We simply never had 
 any! This morning gas drill was supplementary to 
 the regular gas drill and inspection of masks which 
 came later in the day. The French regarded us with 
 amazement akin to horror. That any sane beings 
 should do such an amount of unnecessary work was 
 to them inconceivable. Indeed, we wondered at times 
 if we had not joined a labor battalion by mistake. 
 We did but little firing, we never smelt gas outside the 
 gas chamber, we suffered no real casualties. It was 
 truly a ''bonne petite guerre" except for the work, 
 work, work. 
 
 Despite our apparent madness, the French liked 
 us. In turn, we found the French soldiers exceedingly 
 likeable, far different from the civilians around Coet- 
 quidan. They had plenty of "Pinard," the red wine 
 issued to the French army; we had plenty of tobacco. 
 Over "Pinard" and cigarettes, stories of the war and 
 of America passed back and forth. 
 
 In a dugout in Ostel, hidden beneath a pile of rub- 
 bish, we found a French army co-operative store. All 
 along the front these exchanges have been estab- 
 
58 BATTERY A 
 
 lished by the French government to sell at cost to the 
 soldiers. There we were able to buy enough jam, 
 butter, and cheese to make our own rations palatable. 
 Although the rich Americans often bought out the 
 store to the last can, the French soldiers never com- 
 plained, never reminded us that this was a French 
 canteen run by the French Government for the French 
 Army. Yet French soldiers could not buy even a 
 cigarette in our Y. M. C. A.'s. 
 
 All this time we were learning more and more 
 about the Boche and his wily ways. We had picked 
 up bits of Boche equipment, looked over positions 
 they had left, and watched their shells burst. What 
 we most wanted, however, was to see them in the 
 wild state, that is, not prisoners, but within their own 
 lines. Consequently, everyone was anxious to go out 
 to the Observation Post. 
 
 On the way out, the first 500 yards lay in the open. 
 Then one entered the Boyau Barret, a deep, well-kept 
 communication trench. For more than a kilometer 
 it twisted toward the front line. A narrow duck- 
 board walk ran along the bottom of the trench, past 
 dugouts, under a narrow-gauge railroad, past a sign 
 that marked the Chemin des Dames, and finally to a 
 second-line infantry trench. 
 
 A few hundred yards down this trench lay O. P. 
 (observation post) Renard. Two dugouts, built deep 
 into the hillside, and an iron box with slits for obser- 
 vation built into the side of the trench, formed this 
 O. P. Peering out, we could see a deep valley through 
 which ran the Aisne canal and the Ailette river in 
 front of us, and then another ridge. The valley was 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 59 
 
 No Man's Land; the opposite hill was in German 
 possession. To the left, within our lines, lay Fort 
 Malmaison, Pargny, and Pargny Filain. Directly be- 
 fore us, at the foot of the opposite hill was Chevrigny. 
 Farther up the hill, and slightly to the left, Monamp- 
 teuil lay in ruins. From this O. P. the Battery was 
 registered on the Moulin Rouge in its first firing. 
 
 The first step in registering a gun on any target, 
 is figuring the range and direction from the map. 
 The gun is fired and the shot observed from some O. 
 P. Corrections are then made in elevation and de- 
 flection until the shots are falling on the target. The 
 actual readings of the guns are then compared with 
 the corresponding map-ranges to establish a con- 
 stant ratio which may be applied to any target pro- 
 vided the same ammunition is used. 
 
 On clear days we could see small parties of Boche 
 moving about back of their lines, and, away in the 
 distance, the spires of Laon Cathedral. The 75 is 
 ideal for sniping, and this was a new and enjoyable 
 game to us. Consequently, many an unwary Boche 
 was rudely disturbed by the shriek of a 75 coming all 
 too straight toward him. 
 
 At first we had expected a sniper's bullet if we 
 dared raise an eyebrow above the trench, but we 
 soon learned better. In our turn, we came to smile 
 at the staff officers who occasionally stole stealthily 
 down the trench, whispering warily, their shiny boots 
 mud-stained, tin hats new and uncomfortable looking. 
 
 On February 23, the Battery fired a barrage in the 
 26th Division's first raid. The mission of the artillery 
 in a raid is to neutralize the enemy's batteries and 
 
60 BATTERY A 
 
 machine guns with gas and H. E., bhnd their O. P.'s 
 with smoke shell, cut off the objectives from rein- 
 forcements, and lay down a protective barrage in 
 front of the advancing infantry. Battery A was one 
 of the batteries assigned to fire this "rolling barrage," 
 the most difficult of all. Errors of any kind may 
 mean death to the doughboys following behind the 
 barrage. All watches were carefully synchronized 
 beforehand, that no accidents might occur through 
 differences in time. The raiding party was composed 
 of French infantrymen and volunteers from the 101st 
 Infantry. 
 
 We were all up and ready that morning well be- 
 fore the barrage was to start. As we waited in the 
 darkness for the word to fire, the only sounds were 
 the low voices of the men talking in the gun pits and 
 the occasional click of shell against shell as the am- 
 munition was cleaned and greased. A moment of 
 silence, the command to fire rang out, and a score of 
 batteries fired as one. The crash of the guns shook 
 the dugouts and sent gravel rattling down the walls 
 of the trenches. Brilliant flashes lit up the position 
 as our guns fired. Wherever one looked, short, sharp 
 flashes marked other batteries firing in the raid. 
 Through the noise of the guns, one could occasionally 
 hear the snap of the breech closing, and the clanging 
 of the empty shell cases tossed out of the way. Some- 
 times it became almost quiet. Then suddenly a dozen 
 flashes broke out of the darkness, a dozen reports 
 followed, and so the barrage continued. Over our 
 heads, rumbled the shells from the heavy batteries 
 behind us. 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 61 
 
 The infantry brought back 23 prisoners including 
 two officers; a- large number for a raid of this sort. 
 This was excellent, but better still, our barrage had 
 been faultless. Our reputation for accuracy was es- 
 tablished, never to be destroyed. From that day on 
 the infantry swore by the 101st artillery, and not at 
 them, as so often happens. As mutual confidence be- 
 tween infantry and artillery is a vital factor, the im- 
 portance of this first barrage can be easily seen. 
 
 In the meantime, the Boches had shelled the val- 
 ley back of us several times with big shells. Com- 
 pany A of the 101st Engineers had probably been ob- 
 served in their position at the foot of the hill. Al- 
 though most of the shells had exploded in the mud at 
 the bottom of the valley, the splinters had struck all 
 about our position. As a result, two men in the Bat- 
 tery were slightly wounded, our first casualties, and 
 four men cited by General Edwards for work on the 
 telephone lines under heavy fire. A splinter pierced 
 the trail of the 4th piece, making a hole that was the 
 pride and joy of the entire gun crew. 
 
 A few days later we were called on for a defen- 
 sive barrage. The promptness with which our guns 
 replied to their rocket, increased the doughboy's ad- 
 miration for the artillery. Indeed, when a barrage 
 was called for, the guns usually spoke while the rock- 
 et was still in the air. 
 
 While all this was happening at the active posi- 
 tion, an old German position a kilometer or so to our 
 rear had been taken over by Lt. Clarke, Lt. Storer, 
 and a score of men. They were to reconstruct it with 
 a view to its use as a reserve position. The dugouts 
 
62 BATTERY A 
 
 were palatial beyond our dreams, but there was a lot 
 of work to be done on the gun pits. The dugouts, 
 built into the side of a ravine, were safe against 
 anything but a direct hit by a very big shell. 
 Although the electric lights and pictures which had 
 once graced these dugouts had now disappeared, they 
 still boasted tile floors, wall paper, and bunks. When 
 all the work had been completed, "Camp Putter", as it 
 was called, was used as a convalescent home for the 
 Battery's invalids. Besides its luxurious dugouts, 
 "Camp Putter's" chief points of interest were a cable 
 conveyor for supplies, a large number of hand gren- 
 ades and other explosives useful for impromptu cele- 
 brations, and the grave of Meyer, a famous German 
 flyer. 
 
 St. Patrick's day was appropriately celebrated by 
 a raid. The objective was the Pont Oger, a German 
 strong point. In addition to the artillery and infantry 
 in the raid, a detachment from Co. A of the 101st 
 Engineers took part. Their work was to bridge a 
 canal in No Man's Land. 
 
 March began with a snow storm. Before the snow 
 fall had ceased, the occupants of the officers' P. C. 
 (post of command), telephone dugout, and first pla- 
 toon dugout, had moved to others in course of con- 
 struction. The second piece gun crew was marooned 
 in its gun pit. These steps were necessary to avoid 
 giving away the locality of the position by paths in 
 the snow. The other dugouts and gun pits could be 
 reached from trenches where the paths did not show. 
 In addition to these precautions, the whole Battery 
 in single file made paths in the valley, away from any 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 63 
 
 positions, to try and draw Boche fire. After three days 
 of cold, the sun came out and quickly melted the snow. 
 As soon as it had gone, we moved back to our regu- 
 lar dugouts. 
 
 The sunny weather did away with the snow but it 
 brought the German aviators in swarms. They ap- 
 peared at daylight and hung over us till long after 
 dark. The fire of anti-aircraft and machine guns did 
 not disturb them in the least, and the French flyers 
 were too few in number to accomplish anything. A 
 score of times each day the irregular drone of a Ger- 
 man plane would come to one's ears. A moment later 
 the "antis" and machine guns would begin firing 
 madly, but ineffectively. 
 
 Our last days in the position were spent in "polic- 
 ing" it thoroughly. In other words, we carefully col- 
 lected and buried all the odds and ends that had col- 
 lected in the last six weeks. Our orders were that not 
 a scrap be left that showed the position had been oc- 
 cupied. Every last sack of "Bull," every old letter, 
 every piece of equipment was cleaned up. Our 
 friends from the French 9th Battery nearby came 
 over to say farewell, and promised to write. To them 
 we gladly gave all the tobacco we could not carry 
 with us. 
 
 On March 18, we pulled out from our position, ar- 
 riving at Camp Landry, as the echelon had been 
 named, shortly after midnight. Despite many diffi- 
 culties, great improvement had been made there since 
 our arrival in February. Bunks had been built in the 
 barracks, the stables improved, and a shack for the 
 kitchen built. 
 
64 BATTERY A 
 
 At the echelon, the first work of the day is feeding 
 the horses. After breakfast the horses are groomed 
 and watered. Again at noon they are fed grain. Fi- 
 nally, just before supper, they are watered and fed 
 hay and grain. It is after dark, however, that a 
 driver's real work begins. After supper the caissons 
 set out for the ammunition dumps. After being load- 
 ed there, they start on the trip up to the firing bat- 
 tery. As soon as they arrive there, the cannoneers 
 are routed out to unload and carry the shells to the 
 dumps in the position, while the drivers start back 
 to the echelon to get to bed as fast as possible. 
 
 In the morning of March 19, all preparations for 
 the coming trip were completed. Rumors of a long 
 road-hike and possibly divisional maneuvers were 
 persistent. To ofifset these unpleasant tales, there 
 were also rumors of a long rest in a mythical paradise 
 called "permanent billets." That afternoon we 
 marched over the road to Soissons in a pouring rain. 
 We reached the city after dark, — cold, wet, and hun- 
 gry. Without delay we started entraining, but the 
 shortness of the loading platform, and the absence of 
 lights made the task difficult. It was then that some- 
 one discovered a "Y" girl serving coffee and apples in 
 the freight shed: nor could she have come at a better 
 time. Her cheerful smile and the hot coffee sent us 
 back to work with renewed energy. Eventually the 
 last horse was dragged aboard, the last wagon lashed 
 in place, the last bale of hay distributed. After a rush 
 to get a last cup of coffee, we climbed into our cars 
 and the train rolled out of Soissons. Going to bed 
 was a simple affair. You simply wedged yourself in 
 
CHEMIN DES DAMES 65 
 
 between two others, tried to pull your slicker over 
 your head, and then spent the rest of your waking 
 hours cursing the rain that persisted in dripping down 
 your neck. 
 
 As the train rumbled along through the darkness, 
 and the discouraged candle-ends flickered down on 
 our prostrate forms, we recalled and scoffed at the 
 tender-foot fears, begot of ignorance, which had ac- 
 companied us six weeks before under like conditions. 
 How different we felt now! Had we not passed our 
 baptism of fire? Did we not now know what war 
 was? Had we not won through our apprenticeship in 
 this most exacting of trades? — No! a thousand times, 
 no! But we thought we had, and, poor babes that 
 we were, we enjoyed the greatest confidence and 
 peace that we had known since the United States en- 
 tered the war. . . . 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ONE "REST PERIOD" 
 
 T ATE in the afternoon of March 20, 1918, the train 
 drew up outside the station of Brienne-le-Chat- 
 eau. Favored with a good ramp, the Battery was 
 unloaded, and the horses harnessed and hitched and 
 ready to leave in what was then our record time, 
 some 20 minutes. 
 
 It was already dusk when the Battery pulled out 
 of the station on its way to billets. The column 
 passed through two or three villages which were 
 already occupied by units of the division that had 
 preceded us to the area. We were kept busy an- 
 swering and hurling in return the questions always 
 on inquisitive lips — ''What outfit. Buddy?" The fast 
 falling darkness closed from view the country through 
 which we passed. 
 
 After two hours riding we arrived at Radonvil- 
 liers, our billet. In the darkness, Radonvilliers bore 
 no feature to distinguish it from any other French 
 village. The cobbled, narrow streets over which the 
 caisson wheels jarred and rumbled, the widening of 
 the main street into a bit of square, the square cen- 
 tered with a noisy fountain: of all these, any other 
 village might boast equally well. 
 
 The rattle of wheels ceased when the column 
 reached the dirt road on the other side of town, and 
 the Battery drew up in a much too marshy field on the 
 outskirts. With picket line once established be- 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 67 
 
 I 
 tween carriage wheels and the horses fed, we fell 
 
 in to be assigned our first billets. Supperless and 
 
 heavily laden with equipment we marched into the 
 
 dark town, and the barn each section was to occupy 
 
 was designated by our billeting N. C. O. 
 
 Each and every man heaved a sigh of relief when 
 he had thrown his blankets on that part of the straw 
 which he had chosen as his bed, for he was tired, and 
 "home" was once more established. More than once 
 the feeling of destitution possessed us when we were 
 on the road, just because there was no place on this 
 side of the Atlantic that we could put our blankets 
 and call home. Recently we had learned to appre- 
 ciate and to count on finding safety in holes scarcely 
 large enough for our bodies; here the contrast was so 
 great that merely because we could open out our 
 blankets and arrange in little convenient ways our 
 bits of equipment, we gained a real suggestion of 
 home! 
 
 With a spot once chosen to lay our heads and a 
 snatch of food for a late supper, no one doubted that 
 sleep was the only logical step. 
 
 Reveille the next morning found us in formation 
 on the road beside the picket line, and after the horses 
 were fed, a hungry battery made its way back to the 
 nearby square. The rolling kitchen, located in a 
 barnyard off the square, was the attraction. This 
 worthy implement of war as well as peace had al- 
 ready for a couple of hours been belching forth vol- 
 umes of smoke, and the cooks were busy urging the 
 fire along with bacon grease, making coffee, and heat- 
 ing our none too delicate traveling rations. 
 
68 BATTERY A 
 
 Radonvilliers, on which worthy town the sun had 
 not risen for twenty-four hours, was pallid enough. 
 The early gray of dawn was above, the gray cobble 
 stones beneath, before us a granite fountain-water- 
 ing-trough and the continuous once-white walls of 
 the buildings rising up sheerly on either side of the 
 street. Yet the lay-out of Radonvilliers seemed much 
 less intricate this morning than the darkness of the 
 night before had deluded us into believing. It was 
 hardly more than a cluster of houses along a main 
 street, and one or two dirt roads that led off at right 
 angles from it to lose themselves in the open country. 
 
 One of these roads led some two minutes walk 
 from the square, and after passing through the stage 
 of a grass-grown wagon track, dwindled to nothing 
 in the middle of a pasture. In this pasture, as the 
 light of day revealed, our picket line had been placed. 
 On the other side of the village, B and C Batteries 
 were located somewhat similarly and billeted in other 
 quarters of the town. 
 
 Good care had to be taken of the horses for we 
 expected a long hike, so that the next two days were 
 consumed in grooming and exercising them and 
 cleaning harness, together with the overhead duties 
 of watering and feeding. 
 
 But the spare moments at noon and after recall 
 in the afternoon sufficed for everyone to become as 
 familiar with all the important features of Radon- 
 villiers as if they had been there all their lives. No 
 cafe was left unvisited. The epiceries, whose win- 
 dows were adorned with shoestrings and post cards 
 galore, found their meagre stock of jam and cheese 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 69 
 
 and butter soon depleted and dwindled to nothingness. 
 There was a considerable potter's shop on the road 
 from the main street to our horse lines which, too, 
 underwent much interested inspection. Some took 
 pleasure in airing their meagre French in carrying on 
 a sparse conversation with a French veteran of a pre- 
 vious war, or a refugee from the devastated areas of 
 France, as well as with the merchants of the town. 
 
 It was a sunny, and in spite of the horses, a pleas- 
 ant and relaxing time that was spent there in that 
 little farming village, well appreciated after a lengthy 
 turn on the front and a long, hard ride on the train. 
 The second night, a bright moon shining down on the 
 square and the fountain, saw us quite at home in 
 Radonvilliers, our home since two nights before. 
 
 The morrow brought us splendid news: we were 
 to make ready for our hike. We knew it to be a long, 
 wearisome, hard march of several days duration and 
 anticipated no especial joy from the journey itself. 
 It was our goal and what that meant that we looked 
 forward to so eagerly, for we were bound for some 
 as yet unknown town, there to enjoy a couple of 
 weeks rest. We were all expectation and eagerness 
 to reach our first rest area. 
 
 The sunny morning of March 25 found the blanket 
 rolls rolled and packs packed. About 10 o'clock the 
 picket ropes were taken down, horses harnessed and 
 hitched, the "lines" policed. Before noon the Battery 
 had bade good-bye to Radonvilliers and was stretched 
 out along the road, joining B and C Batteries in bat- 
 talion column. We stopped for dinner on the road, 
 and then took up the hike again. A good many of us 
 
70 BATTERY A 
 
 were mounted. The cannoneers could not ride the 
 carriages but were obliged to walk, for we had a 
 long hike ahead in the next week and must save the 
 horses. Dismounted men trudged along, the old hav- 
 ersacks we came across with slung over their should- 
 ers; but none were weary or complaining. Nothing 
 but the most cheerful spirit existed. 
 
 It was beautiful country through which we passed 
 that cheery spring afternoon. Broad, rolling, green 
 fields stretched away on either side. Here and there 
 in little hollows, cosy, white villages snuggled tightly 
 among clusters of trees, each group of red tiled roofs 
 towered over by a single church spire looking as pic- 
 turesque as it was beautiful. Tall poplar trees lined 
 the roads over which the long warlike column, with 
 its khaki uniforms, camouflaged wagons, and brown 
 horses, passed — a strange contrast, indeed, to the 
 peaceful and homelike scenes around it. 
 
 Bunches of mistletoe hung from the limbs of the 
 apple trees in the orchards; there were not woods 
 like our own but with each tree seemingly planted 
 individually, the whole forming long rows. Every- 
 thing was obviously a part of an old country where 
 civilization had ruled for centuries. 
 
 Still early in the afternoon we turned off the 
 Grand Chemin to the right and shortly struck a group 
 of a dozen or so buildings, stone buildings of course, 
 for there are none but stone buildings in France. 
 These houses formed the town of La Chaise. 
 
 A turn to the left at the corners around which the 
 town was built brought us to a field, just beyond 
 the last house of the village. The horses were 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 71 
 
 watered in a brook that led into a pond below the vil- 
 lage, and as the water had to be bailed out in buckets, 
 and the horses watered from these, the process was 
 quite an extended one. 
 
 This business over, our billets were assigned: al- 
 most all the Battery being quartered in one barn. 
 The gate opened from the cross-roads in the center 
 of town into a court surrounded on all four sides by a 
 continuous brick building. One side of the building 
 the people used as a house and the other three sides 
 were barn. A loft under the eaves was approached 
 by an iron ladder from the courtyard. Our home was 
 in the loft. That night after supper our regimental 
 band entertained us with a concert. We danced 
 in the square with our heavy hobnailed shoes, so ir- 
 repressible was our happiness. Some of the inter- 
 ested inhabitants joined in and danced with us. 
 The concert lasted until it was no longer possible to 
 see, and then as the moon came up, we stood around 
 talking until "taps" called us to our lofts. 
 
 Sunday morning. Palm Sunday, dawned as beau- 
 tiful as the day before, and the spring sun rose higher 
 and higher on an exquisite scene. The fat cattle graz- 
 ing in the green meadows; the pond, guarded by its 
 regiments of tall rushes, reflecting a sky of the purest 
 blue; the distant hill climbing towards heaven in a 
 purple mist: everything in nature most befitting a 
 Palm Sunday. That afternoon on the shady lawn of 
 the chateau the Chaplain gave an Easter sermon. It 
 proved the last service we were to have in many a day. 
 
 Next day we were up long before the sun and 
 ready to take up the march. It was a still chilly morn- 
 
72 BATTERY A 
 
 ing when we struck the high road, but before long 
 the sun's strengthening rays were beating down on 
 horses and men, and the same kind of beautiful coun- 
 try was unfolding itself in ever new variations and 
 gentle impressiveness. There were no rugged moun- 
 tains and sturdy forests, but all was soft fields and 
 distant villages such as would delight a painter's 
 heart. 
 
 This was the town where we were to pass the next 
 night, and shortly after noon we had already drawn 
 up our carriages on a camp-like bit of ground beside 
 the road just outside town. A willow-lined brook 
 close by was our watering trough and washing place. 
 In a large barnyard our worthy "soup gun" was dili- 
 gently acquitting itself of its duties, and the cooks 
 were doling out its charge of army beans. We 
 sat around on wheelbarrows and a pile of lumber, eat- 
 ing a dinner made infinitely more edible by the tidbits 
 of dairy product bought from the farmers. 
 
 And then, American fashion, the town had to be 
 explored and all its distinctive features investigated. 
 The church, centuries old, was of unusual impressive- 
 ness. At the school house some discussed with the 
 Professor-of-things-in-general, for the moment the 
 professor of ballistics, the probability and possibility 
 of the new Hun long-range gun whose existence was 
 later made known in the newspapers. 
 
 To bed we went with the moon and up we rose 
 with the sun. After the Battery, harnessed and 
 hitched, had nosed its way inch by inch through the 
 streets, crowded with engineers and other troops, we 
 struck out on the main road. The packs that had 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 73 
 
 been carried for several days now began to get heavy 
 and the straps to cut. The fluctuating speed of the 
 column made it necessary to change pace continually, 
 and feet began to feel the effects of fast and continued 
 marching. 
 
 A sharp climb w^ith double time through a sandy 
 stretch at the top accounted for the death of two 
 horses. But directly we stopped to pay our compli- 
 ments to the rolling kitchen and revive our spirits by 
 bathing them in the soothing thought that our hike 
 would soon be over and our rest period would be 
 upon us. 
 
 In a shower of hail, we trudged down from the 
 heights into a valley over a tortuous, writhing road. 
 Brachay was built around its church in the valley, all 
 on the left of the road. Down in a meadow on the 
 other side between the road and the brook, the Bat- 
 talion proceeded to establish itself. Numerous vacant 
 houses in town served us as billets. 
 
 The next day was to bring our hike to a happy 
 close; and so we started off, gay and light-hearted in 
 spite of tired feet and hungry horses. The morning 
 had dragged its slow length through and it was early 
 afternoon when the town of Roche hove into view. 
 It seemed that there were Adrian barracks in every 
 vacant lot, filled with troops and smoking kitchens, 
 and American signs adorned every house. Here we 
 were met by Corp. Allen who had preceded us in order 
 to arrange for our coming. We were conducted by 
 him to the hillside town of Signeville, our rest billet. 
 It was a meagre town, but how good it looked to 
 tired men ! Each section had its vacant house with a 
 
74 BATTERY A 
 
 big open fireplace. Everyone began to buy straw for 
 beds and proceeded to make himself comfortable and 
 at home for a couple of weeks at least. 
 
 Soon each section had its secret farmhouse where 
 eggs might be bought. News of the two canteens in 
 the village at the foot of the hill quickly spread. Mail 
 was to be expected at any time! We had had no 
 mail on the road, it all having been sent ahead to 
 await us here. How anxious we were to get it ! Our 
 barrack bags, with all the little conveniences which 
 we had not seen since Coetquidan, were to come on 
 the morrow. As we sat around the fire place that 
 night and talked of all these things, and contemplated 
 the nights of unbroken sleep with no rolling of rolls 
 and hikes in the morning, we were contented at last ! 
 
 In the morning after a good night's refreshing 
 sleep, plans to consolidate our billet and horse lines 
 and make them more convenient were put into opera- 
 tion. At the picket line, which was in the shade of a 
 group of evenly spaced birch trees, a corral was made 
 for the tired, underfed horses to graze, and have a 
 bit of liberty. After dinner, our barrack bags ar- 
 rived but not so much happiness was derived from 
 having them as had been expected because it was 
 rumored that we would be allowed to go through 
 them only and then they must again be turned in. 
 Someone suggested the thoughts of all. "Ah-h-h. If 
 we were staying in this burg, they'd let us keep 
 them!" 
 
 A cloud, a black illboding cloud was gathering 
 about us, surging on in a manner quite beyond the 
 power of us to halt. The papers consistently brought 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 75 
 
 us news of the Hun tidal wave that was to all ap- 
 pearances crumbling the British on the very front we 
 had left. Troops were being rushed here and there 
 at an instants notice to stem the angry tide. We 
 wondered about ourselves and our rest period. 
 
 The weather began to reflect our feeling of un- 
 rest, and the morning found the cold rain beating 
 down and casting gloom about with a merciless im- 
 partiality. The weary horses that had been standing 
 that night in the arctic downpour of rain were so 
 drowned and shivering that it seemed they would 
 shake themselves out of their halters. Dejected 
 enough ourselves, before breakfast we led the poor 
 beasts out along a winding, sodden road to bring a 
 bit of warmth into their benumbed legs. As we 
 splashed along the miry path and brushed by drip- 
 ping bushes, Dame Rumor had full sway. The threat- 
 ening cloud deepened and hung low. Our "rest" was 
 to terminate before it had begun. The morning of 
 the following day would find us on the road bound 
 for the front! 
 
 Bound for the front, in such weather, with such 
 horses, with no chance to recover from the hike even 
 now completed, with such an ominous front before 
 us as the conditions of the victorious Boche drive 
 would warrant, without our mail: an inspiring out- 
 look! Indeed fate seemed pitted against us. With 
 physical torments heaped plentifully upon us, every- 
 thing that happened seemed only to add one more 
 drop to our already overflowing cup of discomfort. 
 Under such conditions, the only saving influence 
 
76 BATTERY A 
 
 comes from riveting one's gaze steadfastly on ideals 
 and not permitting it to wander to the muddy road. 
 
 Our guns were taken to the mobile machine shop 
 for repairs, a couple of "Chinese" caissons (as we 
 called our cumbersome American caissons) arrived, 
 and with little heart, we prepared to leave. Our bat- 
 tery commander. Captain Huntington, received or- 
 ders to report immediately in the capacity of an in- 
 structor to the training camp at Coetquidan. The 
 command then fell upon Lieutenant Clarke. Lieu- 
 tenant MacNamee, our other first Lieutenant, was 
 soon afterwards taken away to become acting Bat- 
 talion commander. 
 
 We were drenched before we started; we were off 
 we knew not whither. We splashed and worried 
 along the nasty road, the horses hardly able to drag 
 along their own existence. Whenever an obstacle in 
 the road presented itself — a hill to climb or an ex- 
 ceptionally bad stretch to cover — the horses tugged 
 feebly at the traces as if on their last legs. Footsore 
 men staggered under the cutting straps of heavy 
 packs and had too little spirit to push very enthusias- 
 tically on ditched carriages. Mounted men fared no 
 better: frozen in their seats, saddle weary, fearing 
 every minute lest the horse's back break beneath them 
 under the combined weight of man and heavy march- 
 ing equipment. Some poor unfortunate in the rear 
 of the column had literally to drag along a half dozen 
 mangy, moth-eaten, drowned skeletons of horses that 
 seemed to have no strength except a stolid, uncon- 
 scious determination to pull backwards for the most 
 part, but in general in every direction except the one 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 77 
 
 you wanted them to go. No one will ever know how 
 unsurpassingly aggravating an army horse is until 
 he has hauled along a few mangy bags of bones all 
 day on such a hike as this one. 
 
 And so we struggled on by little cities of Adrian 
 barracks, hoping each place was the one where we 
 were to stop for the night, coming to the road that 
 led to each, eagerly waiting to see the head of the 
 column turn in, passing by, lapsing back with addi- 
 tional disappointment. An endless afternoon slowly 
 wore away, the indefatigable rain always upon us, 
 when, just before dark, we found ourselves drawn up 
 in a quagmire at Neufchateau. We dreaded to move. 
 We dreaded the order to dismount even though we 
 knew the sooner our work was over the quicker we 
 could get under cover. We had spirit for nothing. 
 
 In that mire, in that rain, in that cold, we left the 
 weary horses tied to picket lines, shouldered all our 
 reeking equipment, and straggled countless kilo- 
 meters, it seemed, to the camp in the town. We were 
 led into a great building once used as a horse ring and 
 now filled with bales upon bales of hay. Ages we 
 waited for supper and then there was enough for 
 only about half the men; the other half went supper- 
 less. Some sneaked out by the guard and sought 
 supper in the town; perched high on the bales of hay, 
 the others sought refuge and consolation between a 
 couple of blankets in which the water oozed. 
 
 We must have been in bed at least two minutes 
 when, Morse Code "dot dash" shrieked out of the top 
 sergeant's whistle, and we were routed out with a 
 heartless flashlight. Someone had been blessed with 
 
78 BATTERY A 
 
 a bright idea ! We were to go back to the picket lines, 
 get the horses, and put them into barns. We were in 
 no frame of mind that night to want to do it for the 
 horses' sake; but done it must be, so done it was. 
 
 Alas ! Easter morning gushed forth with no more 
 pity than the preceding day. Wet straps were buckled 
 and deeply sunken park-wagons urged by main 
 strength on to the road again. We did get a sidelong 
 glimpse at the sun during the morning and in the 
 early afternoon after passing through Colombe we 
 parked the carriages outside Allain, favored by a 
 straggling, belated sunbeam. That night we were 
 decently billeted in comfortable hay lofts. A refresh- 
 ing and much needed sleep, coupled with a moderately 
 respectable show of sunlight on the following morn- 
 ing, made it possible to pursue our duties in a much 
 more cheerful frame of mind. The exhausted horses 
 were cared for and given their ration of grain to- 
 gether with a few mouthfuls of forage. We waited 
 in anxious suspense the whole morning through for 
 orders to move, each man (and I dare say each horse) 
 praying madly for another night's rest. 
 
 The army doesn't work that way. At noon it ap- 
 peared that our orders to move had simply been de- 
 layed, and so instead of traveling the morning and 
 afternoon and getting to our destination in the late 
 afternoon, we would travel afternoon and night and 
 arrive in the gray of dawn. This cheerful thought 
 was applauded by Father Neptune with his usual 
 mode of expression, a deluge. He seems to find some 
 unholy gratification in manifesting his powers to un 
 happy spirits in France. 
 
ONE "REST PERIOD" 79 
 
 Allain was soon a thing of the past, and at an all 
 too early hour darkness closed in around us. Mud 
 splashed on the bottoms of the dismounted men's 
 slickers and from these plastered itself in a hard 
 clammy cake all over their spirals from shoe to knee. 
 Feet stuck in the mud and the clinging clay made 
 them well nigh unliftable. 
 
 Army slickers are unhappily never known as rain- 
 coats. They have in fact the opposite effect from any 
 self-respecting raincoat. They act as one-way valves 
 permitting all the water to enter at an alarmingly 
 efficient manner and allowing never a drop to escape. 
 The cold rain mockingly defied all known laws of 
 gravitation, running up the sleeves as well as down 
 the neck and into the ears. 
 
 No supper beautified our mess-kits that night, and 
 the poor beasts plodded along equally supperless. 
 
 Eight hours we had dragged our weary, drenched 
 selves and equipment along that mud path when we 
 began to think, "Well, the next town simply must be 
 it!" But the next town appeared, resounded to the 
 noise of moving horses and carriages on its pave- 
 ments, and disappeared again into the night in which 
 no trace of light could be found. 
 
 The loitering hands of watches refused to move. 
 On and on we straggled with equipment bearing heav- 
 ily down. No cigarette was allowed to bring a bit 
 of comfort. Heavens no! the Hun would see us if 
 we smoked. Blank the Hun, anyway ! 
 
 Up hill and down dale we traveled on. Eight, 
 nine, ten, eleven, twelve, and one o'clock staggered 
 unsteadily by. A rapid, uneven, and most aggravat- 
 
80 BATTERY A 
 
 ing pace was set. Many carriages whose exhausted 
 horses could not stand the strain fell far in the rear. 
 The batteries were mixed up in a hopeless scramble. 
 That was a small matter. No one cared to be both- 
 ered with such trifles. Carriages unable to make a 
 grade were sometimes helped but more often left to 
 their own wild devices. The mangy horses unable 
 longer to lift their feet, stumbled and fell and on 
 finding themselves unable to get up again, were shot 
 and rolled into the ditch. 
 
 Untold ages wore away and, finally, at two o'clock 
 the head of the column halted. The blackness of the 
 drizzling night made it impossible to see any help in 
 the surrounding country, but the order came to un- 
 harness and unhitch. Carriages were left in the road 
 where they found themselves and harness was thrown 
 desperately into the mud or into the ditch by the side 
 of the road which had assumed long ago the pro- 
 portions of a river. 
 
 Neither officers nor men knew where they were. 
 Men, made stolid by irritation, led horses around 
 among barracks that loomed up in the darkness, 
 shouting to know where the watering trough was and 
 where our respective stables were. Vicious, hungry, 
 drowned horses fell with their leaders into ditches 
 and bumped into fences until at last they were packed 
 into stables and fed. Ourselves we fed on a slice of 
 cold bacon and a quarter of a cup of cold, black cof- 
 fee after waiting in line till we could hardly stand. 
 Then out again into the pelting rain in search of a 
 barrack for sleep. Oh! unfortunate man that was 
 
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ONE "REST PERIOD" 81 
 
 chosen for guard that night at Camp L'Eveque! Be- 
 lated horses and men kept coming in all night. 
 
 Without a dry stitch to our names, we threw our- 
 selves upon the hard floor of a barrack, hardly waiting 
 to take ofif our equipment, let alone unrolling it. 
 Some of us felt a strong impulse to lie on our backs 
 and kick our heels in the air and scheech, in an ecstasy 
 of irritation, but we were too tired for even that 
 relief. 
 
 It was three o'clock before the first oi us got to 
 bed that morning and at four we were all routed out 
 to eat a scanty mess and harness and hitch again. 
 We stood around in the murky dawn until eight 
 o'clock and then started back along the road we had 
 traversed in the night, and after some hours riding, 
 struck off on a new road towards Toul. Two scouts 
 had been sent ahead to determine the road, and they 
 guided us through the considerable town of Toul and 
 out on to the road to Bruley. During the morning 
 the weather cleared and our short trip from Toul to 
 Bruley was not over-oppressive. 
 
 The main road of Bruley ran straight up the side 
 of a hill, and our billets were in lofts on the main 
 street. The place also quartered a large number of 
 exceptionally splendid looking French soldiers. Be- 
 fore noon, the picket lines were established in some 
 meadows at the foot of the hill. Hay and grain were 
 brought up by truck for the horses, and were vora- 
 ciously devoured. 
 
 After reveille on the morning succeeding our ar- 
 rival what a sight greeted our eyes at the picket lines ! 
 Horses had torn loose from the lines and were graz- 
 
82 BATTERY A 
 
 ing far and wide over the landscape. Others had 
 fallen, struggling in the trodden mire under foot, and 
 being cast, lay freezing. With all the horses coaxed 
 back by cunning or forced to their feet by main 
 strength, the lines were moved to a more promising 
 spot and a corral established for the more fortunate 
 ones. 
 
 Here, with our irrepressible French comrades, we 
 were settled in Bruley for a day or so with a bit of 
 sun and some rest to revive our spirits, awaiting or- 
 ders to take up positions on the near-by front, the 
 Toul Sector. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE TOUL SECTOR 
 
 "\^7 HEN the great German offensive started on 
 March 21, the 26th and 42nd Divisions were 
 just arriving in their rest billets and were planning 
 to carry on an extensive war game with each other. 
 The events on the British front, however, quickly can- 
 celled all previous plans. The First American Divi- 
 sion, which was then holding the Toul Sector, was 
 needed to help stem the onslaught farther north, and 
 the 26th was promptly called upon to fill up the gap 
 they left. 
 
 The Toul Sector came under the category of a 
 "rest sector." It was supposed to be a quiet, respect- 
 able place where each side treated the other with con- 
 sideration. Such a thing as shelling the other fellow's 
 towns was unheard of, and would be sure to bring 
 back prompt retaliation. Combat troops who were 
 tired out and needed recuperation would go to a place 
 like the Toul front to rest. They would do only the 
 minimum amount of fighting necessary to maintain 
 the state of war, their main idea being to live as well 
 as possible in deep, comfortable dugouts. 
 
 New troops going into the lines for the first time 
 were also trained in these quiet sectors. There was 
 another very important consideration, however, 
 which helped keep the Toul Sector quiet, — at least 
 from the point of view of the Allies, — the Germans 
 held all the high ground. The Heights of the Meuse 
 
84 BATTERY A 
 
 and the rugged, wooded plateau stretching from Hat- 
 tonchatel on the north to St. Mihiel on the south com- 
 pletely dominated the French positions on the low, 
 swampy, flat Woevre plain. 
 
 The front lines followed along parallel to the high 
 plateau. Owing to the swamps and lakes that were 
 everywhere present, the main scheme of defence had 
 to rely on certain strong points rather than on a con- 
 tinuous front line. Beginning on the right of the Di- 
 visional Sector, the allied line ran through the towns 
 of Flirey, Bois Jure, Bois Remiere, and the towns of 
 Marvoisin and Xixray; then came a long stretch of 
 swampy morass until the lines swung around near 
 the top of the St. Mihiel Salient and outside of Apre- 
 mont, up and over the high plateau. The allied terri- 
 tory was very flat and low. The fields were broken 
 with stretches of woods, wTiile many smashed-to- 
 pieces towns were scattered through the area. Ram- 
 bucourt, Beaumont, Seicheprey, Boucq, Ansauville, 
 St. Julien, Royaumeix, Mandres, Bouconville, Berne- 
 court, Menil-le-Tour, Andilly and Boncourt later be- 
 came well known to members of the 26th Division. 
 
 From their observatories on the impregnable fort- 
 ress of Mont Sec, the Germans could watch every 
 move of their opponents for miles back of the lines. 
 Allied soldiers could not raise their heads anywhere 
 without seeing hated old Mont Sec staring them in 
 the face. They lived in a great swamp. Their dug- 
 outs were under water. Their trenches were all 
 flooded, while across the line the Hun was biding his 
 time on his high and dry ground in comparative 
 luxury. 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 85 
 
 Such was the condition of affairs when the 26th 
 Division reheved the First Division early in April. 
 The latter, however, had stirred things up greatly in 
 their two months' stay. The Americans had not 
 fought through four long, weary years of war the 
 way the French had. They did not want a rest. They 
 wanted action. They gave the Boche the surprise of 
 his life. The latter, according to his regular sched- 
 ule, dropped a few shells near a certain Infantry Com- 
 mand Post. The Infantry Commander refused to 
 stand for it and ordered a tremendous concentration 
 of artillery on a Boche town. Such procedure, re- 
 peated a few times, promptly brought an end to all 
 the unwritten laws of the sector. Everything livened 
 up. The Hun no longer shelled at will with impunity. 
 He always received as much as he sent over, and 
 more. Places like "Dead Man's Corner" near Mandres 
 were no longer safe places to linger. They became 
 favorite haunts for ISO's and 77's. 
 
 The first Battalion of the 101st F. A. was des- 
 ignated to relieve the 7th Field Artillery near Ram- 
 bucourt, while the Second Battalion was to relieve a 
 French Regiment more to the left. A Battery ar- 
 rived at Rangeval, the rear echelon of E Battery of 
 the 7th, on the afternoon of April 3. That evening 
 the first platoon started for the front, 12 kilometers 
 away, with the 1st Division drivers and horses haul- 
 ing the guns. The night was very dark and no one 
 had any idea where he was going or how far away the 
 front was. As the plain behind Rambucourt was be- 
 ing crossed, the first real glimpse of the front stood 
 out vividly. Star shells and Very lights were going 
 
86 BATTERY A 
 
 up everywhere in front of us. On our right ''Dead 
 Man's Corner" was being heavily shelled, sparks of 
 bursting ISO's shining out in the distance. No one 
 could light a match or smoke, as we were in direct 
 observation of the Boche. In some way the Hun had 
 got wind of the relief that was taking place, and had 
 shelled all the battery positions the night before for 
 six hours with gas shells and high explosives. On the 
 night of the 3rd, however, not a shell came over 
 towards the Battery. By 3 A. M. our guns were 
 safely in position, and the 7th's were well on their 
 way to their echelon. 
 
 The Toul Sector was an exceedingly poor one for 
 artillery positions. There were practically no places 
 well suited for emplacements, and everything could 
 be promptly picked up by the enemy. The St. Dizier- 
 Metz Road ran along through the towns of Rambu- 
 court and Beaumont, parallel to the front lines, about 
 200 meters back of them. Practically the only possi- 
 bilities in the way of battery positions lay just under 
 the cover of these towns where they would be prac- 
 tically hidden from observation. Behind Rambu- 
 court there was quite a cluster of batteries: two 90 
 mm. and two 75 mm. all within 500 meters of 
 each other, A's position being between the two 90 
 batteries. This position was a strong one : every dug- 
 out had a heavy protection of concrete slabs, logs, 
 rocks, I beams, tole iron and sand bags; two gas- 
 proof doors were on every entrance and even the gun 
 pits had enough protection to resist a 77 . The emplace- 
 ment, however, was three or four years old and nat- 
 urally was well known to the Boche who loved to 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 87 
 
 throw over sudden bursts of 77's to catch us off our 
 guard. Their favorite method of annoyance was to 
 mix in a lot of diphosgene gas with the H.E.'s. Every 
 night at one or two A. M, great concentrations 
 of gas would come over to the accompaniment of 
 alarm gongs and klaxons along the whole front. At 
 this stage of the game the Division had not become 
 sufficiently well introduced to gas to know that shell- 
 gas, especially, was very local in its effect, and that 
 just because a gas shell burst in one, place, a place 
 50 yards away would not necessarily be affected un- 
 less the wind were blowing in that direction. At first 
 a gas alarm would be taken up and spread for miles 
 by klaxon horns. Everybody would put on his mask 
 and wait until the word was passed to take it off. 
 Later on, when the men became "acclimated" to gas, 
 no one worried about distant alarms. 
 
 In spite of the continual Boche concentrations, not 
 a man was hit or gassed. Many were the hair breadth 
 escapes, especially in going to the kitchen, but luck 
 was always with us. We did only a little firing, and 
 the cannoneers had a much needed opportunity to 
 clean up and rest. The telephone detail, however, had 
 to work overtime. They had nine or ten lines to keep 
 in operation, most of which were being cut every day 
 or so by the Boche shells. There was one line, es- 
 pecially, running out to the front lines in Marvoisin 
 which the Boche always cut. With about twenty 
 other Infantry lines it ran down through the com- 
 municating trench. All the Boche had to do, there- 
 fore, was to drop a shell in the trench and all the 
 wires would be "out." 
 
88 BATTERY A 
 
 Inasmuch as the Germans held the upper hand in 
 the early part of 1918, it was thought probable that 
 they might launch an attack along the Lorraine 
 Front. On this account it did not seem wise to have 
 all the batteries situated within the two thousand 
 meter limit behind the St. Dizier-Metz road where 
 they would be too fully exposed to complete neutral- 
 ization or even capture in case of an attack. Reserve 
 positions were therefore picked out about 5500 meters 
 from the line and were occupied by two guns from 
 each battery. On the nights of April 4 and 5 our sec- 
 ond platoon took over the reserve position. Later, 
 on the 12th, our first platoon moved back from Ram- 
 bucourt and joined it. This new position was an en- 
 tirely artificial camouflage one. It was situated in 
 the middle of a swampy field, in full view of the nine 
 Boche balloons which were always up on clear days. 
 A great wire camouflage net covered it over. Owing 
 to the danger of observation, the kitchen had to be 
 placed in the woods about two hundred meters to the 
 rear, and walking around in the open had to be cut 
 down to a minimum. The question of bringing in 
 provisions, ammunition and building materials was a 
 serious one. There was no road accessible, and the 
 only way for a wagon to get in was over a soft, miry 
 field. Luckily a Decauville railroad ran by the posi- 
 tion, and brought up most of the supplies from the 
 rear. 
 
 The emplacement itself was far from developed. 
 Three gun pits had been shaped up pretty well, also 
 five abris, and a main trench had been dug; but only 
 two of the abris had any protection over them. The 
 
THE BRICK FACTORY AT RANGEVAL. LONG SHED USED AS STABLE. BUILDING 
 UNDER CHIMNEY USED AS QUARTERS FOR BATTERY A. BUILDINGS SEEN OVER 
 SHED. QUARTERS FOR BATTERIES B AND C. THIS CHIMNEY IN PLAIN VIEW OF 
 ENEMY AS EVIDENCED BY CAMOUFLAGED ROAD BEYOND BUILDINGS 
 
 MUNASIERY AT RANGEVAL USED AS ECHELON BY UNITS OF lOlST AND I03RD F, A. 
 HILLS IN BACKGROUND GIVE EXCELLENT ILLUSTRATION OF THE NATURE OF THE 
 GROUND. 
 
 PICKET LINE AT BRACHAY ON THE SEVEN DAY HIKE TOWARD 
 THE REST BILLETS 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 89 
 
 bane of our existence was water. Everything was 
 flooded. Four pumps had to be kept going steadily all 
 day. At night the water would rise almost to the 
 level of the bunks. Rubber boots were of course worn 
 all the time. It was impossible to fight the water and 
 at the same time do construction work; consequently 
 a detail of twenty men came up from the echelon to 
 help out. 
 
 In order to escape observation, all the building 
 material of I-beams, tole iron, and logs were carried 
 under the net each day before sunrise or after sun- 
 set. The path that led to the position was continued 
 on to the woods beyond, and men approaching or leav- 
 ing in the daytime had to do so one at a time. The 
 Battery was supposed to be in reserve. It was only 
 to fire in case the Boche attacked, and a barrage was 
 called for by the infantry. 
 
 It has been said that this was a unique war, and 
 that everything in it was unique. At any rate the 
 echelon at Rangeval upholds that statement and de- 
 serves a passing word. The town consisted of four 
 houses, a monastery, and a delapidated brick-factory 
 which was entirely surrounded by mud. Adjoining 
 the factory were some small buildings which formed 
 a court-yard. In these buildings and on the ground 
 floor of the factory, C Battery was quartered, the A 
 Battery drivers having the second floor and a few 
 small sheds in the rear. One end of this building was 
 a long shed which was used as a stable by both 
 batteries. 
 
 The most imposing feature of our billet was a 
 brick chimney some eighty feet high which stood out 
 
90 BATTERY A 
 
 like a beacon for miles around. The chimney had been 
 tilted by some wanton Boche shell so that it shamed 
 the Tower of Piza and it was regarded by the drivers 
 who slept beneath as a sort of Sword of Damocles. 
 For the first few days, its temperament was carefully 
 and prayerfully studied when it seemed to win from 
 the drivers a degree of grudging confidence. 
 
 The Monastery was sometimes called the "Port 
 of Missing Men" because it sheltered the only wine 
 shop in the neighborhood. 
 
 Life at Rangeval was far from fast, as most of the 
 ammunition was hauled by narrow-gauge. Taking 
 care of the horses was about the sole resource, and 
 amusement was at a premium. On one occasion a 
 noise of deliberate, evenly spaced pistol shots was 
 traced to the second floor of the factory. It seemed 
 A Battery ingenuity had solved the amusement prob- 
 lem. Corporal Wheelwright lay flat on his bunk, 
 dreamily shooting the tiles from the roof above his 
 head ! 
 
 The drivers at Rangeval were honored with the 
 presence of Miss Elsie Janis on May 24. 
 
 On May 10 orders suddenly came to the firing 
 Battery to get ready to move immediately. The 
 104th Infantry was being attacked very heavily 
 about fifteen kilometers to the west in the Bois Brule, 
 near Apremont, and we were to help our Second 
 Battalion support them. Luckily for us the sun had 
 shone brightly for a couple of days and had dried the 
 ground to such an extent that the guns were "snaked 
 out" fairly easily. The drivers had a few excit- 
 ing moments coming in to the position when a cluster 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 91 
 
 of ISO's burst near them, while several carriages got 
 lost for a short time in the darkness and became tan- 
 gled up in some barbed wire. By midnight, however, 
 the whole First Battalion was well on its way. A 
 long, tedious road-march followed. The echelon at 
 Rangeval was passed, then the towns of Cornieville, 
 Jouy, Gironville, and Vignot. Finally, at 7 A. M., we 
 reached our new echelon at Boncourt near the banks 
 of the Meuse. We stayed here until the afternoon 
 when we were ordered to take up our position. The 
 latter was situated just back of Fort Liouville, one 
 of the forts defending Toul. To get to it the road 
 led over a hill in clear view of the enemy, then down 
 into a gully and up a very steep hill to the position, 
 the latter part including a much shelled hair-pin curve 
 easily enfiladed by Boche guns. The carriages were 
 started off one at a time, at ten minute intervals, un- 
 der cover of a thick mist. The hair-pin curve of the 
 Fort Liouville Hill almost proved our Waterloo. Car- 
 riage after carriage got stuck there. At one time 
 as many as eight carriages were stalled. But our luck 
 was with us. For some unaccountable reason the 
 Boche did not shell the road all that afternoon, a 
 thing which he had done every day during the pre- 
 ceding week, and which he did with a particular vi- 
 ciousness every day of the week following. By dusk 
 our guns were all "laid in," and the horses and lim- 
 bers were safely away. 
 
 The position was well defiladed just under the 
 crest of the hill. Its dugouts were very strong with 
 their protection of crushed rock, and their strength 
 was amply proved by six direct hits which failed to 
 
92 BATTERY A 
 
 injure them in the least. The kitchen was about five 
 hundred yards in the rear, close to a French 95 milli- 
 meter battery. As in the position at Rambucourt, 
 the Boche soon proved to us that they knev^ our loca- 
 tion exactly. At any time of day they vs^ere likely to 
 swamp the crest with a deluge of 77's; at meal time 
 especially they pounded away. It didn't pay to stray 
 far from the emplacement unless one's ears were 
 strained for the approaching whine and a convenient 
 shell hole was close by. The route to the kitchen was 
 always precarious and it was not infrequent for mess 
 to be suddenly terminated by a wild scramble for the 
 nearest dugout, while mess kits and food went clat- 
 tering to the ground. However, our luck stayed with 
 us. With the exception of Joe Zwinge, not a man 
 was touched. He had the misfortune to be caught in 
 a savage concentration of 150's while bringing a horse 
 up to Battalion headquarters, and was fatally wound- 
 ed by a shell splinter which struck him above the eye. 
 He died on April 16, the Battery's first fatal casualty. 
 Time and again our caissons with ammunition, or our 
 limbers, would come up to the position, but not once 
 did a shell come over. Just before or just afterwards 
 H. E.'s would be bursting everywhere, but they al- 
 ways missed the right time. 
 
 The Battery fired 604 rounds from this position. 
 The targets included the railroad station at Apremont 
 (the Registration point and Basic Deflection), sev- 
 eral cross roads back of the German lines, and several 
 German batteries. It gave everyone special delight 
 to harrass the enemy batteries after the way they had 
 pounded us. Our observation post, "O. T. 28," as it was 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 93 
 
 called, was nestled in a nook in the communicating 
 trench on the forward side of the Fort Liouville Hill. 
 A good view could be obtained from it of the enemy- 
 lines around Apremont, and much time was spent in 
 registering the various shell lots and calibrating the 
 guns on the Station at Apremont. The Boche must 
 have had a P. C. (Post of Command) or something 
 equally important in this Station, because every time 
 we fired, he responded by "coming back" most sav- 
 agely on our front lines with his 77's and minen- 
 werfers. 
 
 The Divisional Sector was so extended, and our 
 forces were so scattered, that a "Flying Battalion" of 
 75's was organized under Major Richardson, which 
 was to be prepared to move at a moment's notice to 
 support any part of the line which the Boche might 
 attack. When, on April 20, the Hun "Flying Circus" 
 launched its vicious assault against Seicheprey, our 
 "Flying Battalion" composed of B. E. and F. batteries 
 was rushed away to help the 102nd F. A. in its de- 
 fence. In order to deceive the enemy and make it 
 appear that no batteries had really left, Colonel Sher- 
 burne ordered A Battery to move back and place two 
 guns in E's position and two in F's. These two em- 
 placements were organized on the hill back of Fort 
 Liouville. They were about two hundred yards apart 
 and were on the edge of the crest, the hill dropping 
 off steeply behind them. They therefore made a very 
 difficult target, as any "over" would shoot down into 
 the valley beyond, while the slight crest in front gave 
 a great deal of protection against "shorts." A gas 
 shell would have no effect whatever. Neither posi- 
 
94 BATTERY A 
 
 tion was greatly developed. The work on the gun- 
 pits, dugouts, and trenches had hardly more than 
 started. The First Platoon, which had been estab- 
 lished in E's emplacement, only stayed there two 
 days, inasmuch as E Battery itself came back again. 
 Yet on the very first day the Boche was lucky enough 
 to score a direct hit on the first section gun pit at the 
 very moment when the gun was firing. Davis Law- 
 rence, who was acting gunner, was instantly killed, 
 as was Clifford Sawyer, Norbert Rigby was fatally 
 wounded and later died at the hospital. Sergeant Ben 
 James was seriously wounded, while Martin and 
 Fisher were both badly shaken up and were wounded 
 slightly. Both Rigby and James were wonderfully 
 brave and cheerful. Their courage was an inspiration 
 to everyone in the Battery. 
 
 While at this so-called "St. Julien Position," 
 named after the little village in the valley in front of 
 us, Lt. MacNamee assumed command of the Battery. 
 Lts. Shaw, Daizy, and Hommel joined us here. Major 
 Perkins was our Battalion Commander, the Battalion 
 consisting of A, C, and D Batteries. 
 
 After the first section was completely disorganized 
 on April 21 and their gun destroyed, a composite gun 
 crew was organized under Chandler as Chief of Sec- 
 tion. They received a new piece to work with, which 
 they named "Lil," — soon to become famous. This 
 piece was later put out of action in Belleau Woods. 
 
 Our stay here between April 20 and May 10 proved 
 to be most comfortable and enjoyable. The weather 
 was fine and warm. Our location was beautifully sit- 
 uated, overlooking the Woevre valley and plains be- 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 95 
 
 yond with their apple trees in bloom in every direc- 
 tion. During the last two weeks, enemy shelling al- 
 most ceased, and we didn't have to worry about Boche 
 observation balloons seeing us, as we were well behind 
 the crest. Occasionally an aeroplane came over, but 
 the Allied patrols quickly chased it away. We were 
 also fairly close to civilization. A few resolute farmers 
 still tilled the land below in the valley. The city of 
 Commercy was only seven or eight kilometers away. 
 Luxuries like beer could be easily obtained and a 
 crate of the latter would be sent up from the echelon 
 every other night or so. 
 
 In order to strengthen and develop the position, a 
 large amount of work had to be done. Originally 
 none of the gun pits had any protection whatever. 
 Their platforms and trail pits were not finished, and 
 there were no ammunition niches. The dugouts were 
 little more than deep, damp holes in the earth, with no 
 sleeping quarters and no gas protection. The kitchen 
 was in the open. No trench system linked up the vari- 
 ous parts of the emplacement. After a couple of 
 weeks work, however, things began to take shape. 
 Each gun pit had it double trail log. Sand bag walls 
 and sand bag and tole iron roofing made them splin- 
 ter proof. Ammunition shelters were constructed for 
 over five thousand rounds. Splinter-proof outdoor 
 sleeping quarters were built beside each gun pit. Dug- 
 outs were "shored up" and made water proof. Double 
 gas proof doors were installed. A trench was dug, 
 linking up the Special Detail shack with the kitchen 
 and the third and fourth section abris. The whole 
 place was made really strong and livable. 
 
96 BATTERY A 
 
 Owing to the large amount of firing done by the 
 Battery, the ammunition question always occupied at 
 least half the cannoneer's time. Every night or so 
 the caissons would come up. Lines of men would be 
 formed between them and the ammunition dumps, and 
 the shells would be "hopped" down the lines. No time 
 was wasted in this operation because one could never 
 tell when the Boche would "open up", and horses and 
 men in the open are an extremely vulnerable target. 
 Frequently we would get all eight caissons unloaded 
 in seven or eight minutes. The unloading of the 
 shells was just the first phase of the ammunition 
 question. The different lots had then to be sorted 
 out and the shells of each lot stacked (no more than 
 five deep) in the shelters. After that they had to be 
 put in shape for firing. The rotating bands had to be 
 scraped, cleaned and greased. Then there were the 
 fuses: the yellows, reds, blacks, whites, and longs. 
 They all had to be sorted out too. 
 
 The Battery fired 3,494 rounds in this position, at 
 many different targets. The Sector was so extended 
 that we were responsible for no less than 11 barrages, 
 7 C. P. O.'s and 7 concentrations. The barrages and 
 C. P. O.'s (Counter Preparation Offensive) were all 
 named according to the segment of the line in defense 
 of which they were fired. The barrages included the 
 Normal Apremont Barrage in defense of the famous 
 and much fought over "Goose Neck," Ponds Barrage, 
 Redoute Barrage, Knight Barrage, Left eventual 
 (supporting the French on our left) E Battery's Nor- 
 mal (in case E Battery were put out of action), C 
 Battery's Normal (in case C were put out of action), 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 97 
 
 and three others all supporting the French. The 
 C. P. O.'s were directed against the enemy front lines 
 in case he were caught forming for an attack. They 
 were called C P. O. General, C. P. O. Redoute, and 
 C. P. O. Apremont, C. P. O. Varnieville, C. P. O. Bis, 
 C. P. O. 4 and C. P. O. T. C. P. O. General was the 
 most important of these. It "combed" an area 200 
 metres in depth over the Boche front lines. The con- 
 centrations were directed at sensitive points behind 
 the lines such as junctions of trenches, machine gun 
 posts, dugouts, or important communication trenches. 
 
 During the twenty days that we occupied this posi- 
 tion, 12 C. P. O.'s, 21 concentrations, and 13 barrages 
 were fired. Also cross roads were shelled 13 times, 
 important trenches 24 times, and the guns were 
 registered 13 times. Owing to the range, (the 
 guns being 5,500 meters from the lines) we could en- 
 gage in no counter-battery work. 
 
 The rates of fire for a barrage or C. P. O. as well 
 as the barrage signals varied frequently. At first the 
 barrage rate was six rounds per piece per minute for 
 three minutes, three rounds per piece per minute for 
 three minutes, one round per piece per minute for one 
 minute, a total of 124 rounds in seven minutes. Later 
 the rate changed to six rounds per piece per minute 
 for four minutes, two rounds per piece per minute 
 for four minutes. The original C. P. O. rate was four 
 rounds per piece per minute for five minutes, two 
 rounds per piece per minute for ten minutes, for a 
 total of 160 rounds in 15 minutes. Barrages were 
 called for by telephone or by rocket. In case of at- 
 tack, the Infantry would fire a rocket from the front 
 
98 BATTERY A 
 
 lines, which would be promptly relayed from a Rocket 
 Relay Station, so that all batteries could see it. Rocket 
 signals often changed. A six star red rocket was 
 the usual one. C. P. O.'s and concentrations were 
 fired only on telephonic orders from the Battalion 
 P. C. 
 
 On the night of May 10th we were relieved by B 
 Battery. May 10, incidentally, was our busiest firing 
 day of the war up to that time; 1,173 rounds in all. 
 In the very early morning we helped repulse a pro- 
 jector gas attack against the 103rd Infantry, while 
 later on we engaged in a Coup de Main. This latter 
 was quite an affair. Many batteries had moved in 
 all around us to take part in it. Just below us a num- 
 ber of big six inch guns had been towed in by tractors 
 for the "show." Our firing diary for May 10 is typical 
 of a hard day's shoot. 
 
 1.43 Apremont Barrage (the Boche had launched a 
 projector attack upon the 103rd Infantry.) 
 
 1.53 Knight Barrage 
 
 4.45 Coup de Main, Breslau Trench 
 
 5.14 Concentration 354 (on Boche support lines) 
 200 gas shell 
 
 5.41 Apremont Barrage 
 
 5.51 Breslau Trench 
 
 6.50 Boyau Seelow, Harrassing Fire 
 12.35 Boyau Seelow 
 17.05 Boyau Seelow 
 19.15 Boyau Seelow 
 20.33 Normal Knight Barrage 
 20.35 C. P. O. General 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 99 
 
 20.38 Normal Knight Barrage, (the Boche attacked 
 
 our infantry.) 
 20.48 Same and increase by 100 meters 
 21.00 Relieved by B Battery 
 
 When B Battery relieved us we took their place 
 in the "Flying Battalion" under Major Richardson. 
 On the morning of May 11 v^e marched back again to 
 our old echelon at Rangeval, v^ith our four guns, nine 
 caissons, forge and store v^^agon, Battery v^agon, 
 fourgon, two park wagons, water cart, ration cart, 
 and rolling kitchen. After establishing the horse lines 
 in the old "Brick Factory", the firing battery started 
 forward in the dark for a reserve position about a half 
 mile west of Mandres. What a night followed ! The 
 continuous rains of the preceding week had turned 
 the Woevre Plains into a soft, miry morass. It was 
 impossible to pull wagons around on anything but the 
 best main roads. Everywhere else the wheels would 
 sink in up to their hubs. Now the reserve position 
 for which we were heading lay about two hundred 
 meters from the main road, on the edge of a water- 
 covered swamp. The only possible way to get the 
 guns to it lay over a soft, muddy field, partially co ve- 
 ered with water. The outlook was hopeless to start 
 with, but an attempt had to be made. With ten horses 
 on each gun, the sections started out at five minute in- 
 tervals. The horses sank deep into the mud at every 
 step. The 2nd, 3rd and 4th pieces almost got across 
 but finally became hopeless, mired in an especially soft 
 spot. The horses wallowed around until they were 
 completely exhausted. Try as they would, no further 
 
100 BATTERY A 
 
 progress could be made. The cannoneers dug out 
 around the wheels and "shored" them up with duck 
 boards, but to no avail. At daylight the next morn- 
 ing the three pieces were stuck worse than ever. Their 
 axles were out of sight. The horses had completely 
 worn themselves out by their efforts and were of no 
 more use. The first section alone had managed to 
 get through. Its two chunky little "wheelers," "Pete" 
 and "Shrimp" never pulled so hard before or after- 
 wards, but their efforts on this occasion saved the 
 Battery from a very humiliating situation. As it was, 
 when daylight came the next morning, only one gun 
 was in position. The other three were camouflaged 
 with bushes where they were until evening, when an- 
 other attempt with fresh horses finally succeeded. 
 
 This reserve position was not a pleasant one to 
 occupy. It was far better called the "Swamp Posi- 
 tion." Its gun pits and trenches were all under water. 
 In the unfinished dugouts the water was seven or 
 eight feet deep, while in the main trench it came to 
 the top of a man's hip rubber boots. The kitchen was 
 set up in a shack about three hundred yards to the 
 rear in the middle of a sea of mud, while the men lived 
 as best they could. A few scattered tar-paper huts 
 took care of part of them, while the upper bunks in the 
 flooded dugouts housed the remainder. 
 
 Luckily for everyone General Aultman, the Brig- 
 ade Commander, visited the position when conditions 
 were at their worst. He promised a change as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 The next move developed into one of the pleasant- 
 est and most enjoyable trips of the war. A and C Bat- 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 101 
 
 teries were ordered to go up to Pont a Moiisson to 
 assist the French in a Coup de Main. During the 
 night of May 19 our drivers came up from the echelon 
 and pulled the guns out to the main road at "Hill Top 
 Crossing" where motor trucks were waiting. Each 
 battery had five, — one for each gun and crew, and one 
 for the kitchen and special detail equipment. By 
 means of I-beams, the guns were quickly loaded 
 aboard, and in thirty minutes the "Flying Battalion" 
 was on its way. About midnight we arrived at a little 
 town called Gezoncourt where we stopped for the 
 night and next day. We found it full of Senegalese 
 negroes who were to go over the top in the coming 
 raid. With great glee they showed us their sharp 
 knives from the forests of Senegal and demonstrated 
 how they were going to scalp all the Boches they met. 
 A river which ran by the town afforded everyone a 
 chance to get his first real swim since coming to 
 France. 
 
 On the night of May 20 we again went forward 
 on the trucks, this time to the little deserted village 
 of Mamey, about 5,000 yards from the front lines. 
 Limbers of the 269th French Artillery picked up our 
 guns here and hauled them to an open position just 
 south of the St. Dizier-Metz Road. There were many 
 old, abandoned positions on all sides of us, but they 
 were all well known to the Boche and would be sure 
 to draw retaliating fire. Ours was little more than a 
 dummy position, with just outlines of the gun pits 
 hollowed out. Our mission was to stay unobserved 
 until "J Day." Consequently we covered the guns 
 with camouflage, after "laying them in," and went 
 
102 BATTERY A 
 
 back to Mamey to live with the French for two days, 
 only returning to clean ammunition under cover of 
 darkness. "J Day" was May 22. "Zero hour" was 
 midnight. The French Senegalese were to attack a 
 salient of the enemy trenches known as the "Goose 
 Neck," and A Battery was to fire a neutralizing fire 
 against the German support position in the Camp de 
 Ravin with the object of cutting off the German re- 
 serves. For the first ten minutes of the attack we 
 fired 170 rounds of gas and followed that for forty- 
 two minutes with 447 rounds of High Explosives. 
 The Coup de Main was very successful. A number 
 of prisoners were taken, and much information ob- 
 tained. The French Infantry Commander was well 
 pleased with our firing and presented each officer of 
 the batteries with a finely engraved placard as a me- 
 mento of the appreciation of his regiment. After the 
 Mamey expedition, Major Richardson's "Flying 
 Battalion" motored back to the town of Bernecourt, 
 about four miles east of the old "Swamp Position" 
 where it was to help relieve the 228th French Artil- 
 lery. A's position, situated on the northwestern edge 
 of the town, really consisted of two separate battery 
 emplacements about 200 yards apart. Neither had 
 any protection for its gun pits, but the one near- 
 er the town had some very excellent dugouts. They 
 were not only strong but were also dry and comfort- 
 able. The second platoon occupied the forward em- 
 placement, and the first platoon, the rear one. Theo- 
 retically, the latter was supposed to be silent and un- 
 known to the Boche, while the former was to do all 
 the firing. Actually, however, it didn't seem to make 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 103 
 
 much difference, as they were both shelled about 
 equally. The French assured us that it was a "tres 
 bon secteur" and "tres calme". Nevertheless we be- 
 gan to doubt their word the very next night when 
 the Germans launched a Coup de Main against the 
 101st Infantry. They tried to neutralize us by de- 
 luging us with everything in their repertoire: 77's, 
 88's, ISO's, chlorine, and phosgene gas, interspersed 
 with plenty of high explosives. Their efforts at neu- 
 tralization did not accomplish their purpose, but 
 Sergeant Newell Ripley, while running to his post 
 at the third piece was killed by a gas shell. Stevens, 
 Fowler, McCann and Ricker were slightly wounded, 
 and Williams, Kennedy, and Horn were slightly 
 gassed. Goodwin and McCann both did splendid 
 work in holding matches out in front of their guns 
 after their aiming stick lights had been smashed by 
 the Boche shells; early in the attack McCann had 
 been painfully wounded but he kept on with his 
 work without a word about it until all the firing 
 was over. The Battery was extremely lucky to es- 
 cape as easily as it did. No less than 37 shell splin- 
 ters were picked up in the first section gun pit, yet 
 Stevens was the only man touched. 
 
 The biggest addition to the Battery at Bernecourt 
 were two old French 90 millimeter pieces. It was 
 almost worth charging admission to watch Corporal 
 Rowan and his crew of Macgregor, Forzato, Loyal 
 Foley, Lawrence, Edgar Bowers and Thurston fire 
 them. The guns had no recoil, and when they fired, 
 the muzzles would bang down and the wheels and 
 trails would run back up an inclined plane amidst 
 
104 BATTERY A 
 
 clouds of dust and tremendous cheering from the 
 gun crew. 
 
 As a rule there was not much firing by either side 
 in the daytime. One could walk around with com- 
 parative safety. "Peace time warfare" became a real 
 pleasure coupled with the combination of good food 
 and good weather. Even baseball games were indulged 
 in frequently on a nearby field until several were 
 broken up by untimely "Boche rafales." Inspectors 
 were the most dangerous things to watch out for in 
 the day time. They were liable to come around at any 
 moment, and woe be to the section whose gun guard 
 was not properly tending to business or whose shells 
 were not immaculately cleaned or whose gas material 
 was not in the right place. Each gun pit had to be 
 the acme of cleanliness and neatness. The gun had 
 to be spotless at all times. The shells had to be shin- 
 ing and piled neatly five deep. One shell was always 
 left on the trail ready for instant use. The gas cloth- 
 ing, — gas suits, gas gloves and tissot masks, — had 
 to be left neatly tied up and arranged in an orderly 
 manner. The shells had to be sorted out according 
 to lots and the gas shells had to be in separate pits 
 by themselves. Then the empty shell cases from the 
 previous night's firing had to be carried away and the 
 incoming ammunition cleaned and sorted. In the day- 
 time the cannoneers* time was well taken up in car- 
 rying out the above regulations ! 
 
 After dusk it did not pay to wander far from the 
 dugouts. Anything in the way of shelling could be 
 expected. The cross roads back of the position and 
 
FIRST PIECE AT BONCOURT WITH GUN CREW ORGANIZED AFTER 
 THE CASUALTIES ON APRIL 21 
 
 .VI^ITW 
 
 HORSE LINE AT TROUSSEY ON THE BANK OF THE MEUSE RIVER. PICKET LINE IS 
 STRETCHED FROM BATTERY WAGON TO SUCCESSIVE CAISSONS. A TWO DAY STOP 
 BEFORE THE TRANSFER TO THE CH ATE A U TH I ERRY SECTOR. 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 105 
 
 the one south of the town always received their al- 
 lotment of ISO's, although frequently the engineers 
 and doughboys who lived along the road caught the 
 shells, rather than the road itself. The Battery four- 
 gon and caissons had many exciting times as they 
 came up in the evening. Once when the fourth 
 piece was coming back from the Ordnance Repair 
 Shop, a large shell landed in the road just in front of 
 the horses. It blew the lead pair into the gutter and 
 it snapped off the pole of the limber. Jensen, who 
 was driving wheel, cut loose one of his horses and 
 galloped all the way up to the position to report the 
 trouble. Sgt. Chandler took several men down with 
 the fourgon and managed to lash the gun on behind 
 and tow it up. During June the wind was most pro- 
 voking. Every evening it would die down to practi- 
 cally nothing, but what there was of it made condi- 
 tions ideal for enemy gas. Consequently, almost 
 every night, especially at about one or two A. M., the 
 Huns would amuse themselves by dropping just 
 enough gas shells around to make the air rotten, 
 and in the calm of the night the gas would lie around 
 for hours. Corporal Peabody was our expert on gas. 
 He had just come back from a gas school, and when- 
 ever anybody got a whiff of any bad odor, he would 
 always yell for "Peabo" to sample it out and decide 
 whether it was dangerous or not. 
 
 Both Colonel Logan's and Colonel Sherburne's 
 Command Posts were in Bernecourt. One night a 
 150 went through Colonel Sherberne's room and 
 exploded beyond it. By the merest chance the 
 Colonel had just gone out about a minute before. 
 
106 BATTERY A 
 
 Shortly afterwards a shell exploded in Colonel Lo- 
 gan's room, but he, too, was lucky enough to escape. 
 
 Occasionally the Boche became really irritated and 
 he would pound away at the Allied lines all day long. 
 Once the Americans engaged in a big projector-gas 
 attack followed by a heavy artillery concentration. 
 It caught the enemy unawares, in fact, at the very 
 moment when he himself was about to attack. He 
 promptly retaliated by pounding the Allied front 
 lines, battery positions, and every town within ten 
 miles of the front. He shelled A's position eighteen 
 times in the next ten hours. Luck, however, was 
 against him. No one was hit and no damage was 
 done outside of tearing up almost every telephone 
 wire in the town and getting two direct hits on an 
 unoccupied gun pit and a trench. Eliot Mann had a 
 most sensational escape. He was carrying a bag of 
 empty shell-cases down the trench when he heard 
 the whine of an approaching 77. He dropped the bag 
 and dove around a corner. The shell exploded in the 
 trench on top of his bag! 
 
 From June 11 to the 21st, Battery A of the 119th 
 Field Artillery (American) trained with us. They 
 occupied our second platoon's position, our third and 
 fourth pieces moving to our first platoon emplace- 
 ment. They were on their first trip to the front and 
 were very keen to learn. They did fine work in build- 
 ing up and developing the gun pits. 
 
 During the first week in June several big scares 
 of a Boche oifensive spread around. Aviators re- 
 ported seeing forty troop trains come in behind the 
 German lines, and we were warned to get everything 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 107 
 
 ready for the expected attack. Barbed wire entangle- 
 ments were erected, grenade pits were dug behind 
 them, and thermite grenades were issued to each 
 section for destroying the piece at the last minute in 
 case of capture. On the night of June 7, information 
 obtained from prisoners indicated that the attack was 
 coming before daybreak. The horses were harnessed 
 and hitched and the limbers were brought up close 
 behind Bernecourt to be ready to haul the guns out 
 if necessary. 
 
 The third piece was run out to the "Tank Posi- 
 tion" so that it could fire point blank at any tank that 
 might get through the first defenses. Corporal Bird 
 went out near the front lines to signal back in case 
 tanks were seen advancing. No one envied Bird his 
 job! However, the expected attack never materialized. 
 
 Owing to the length of the Divisional Sector, each 
 battery of artillery had a large number of missions. 
 The most vulnerable points of attack were defended 
 by the Normal Barrages of the various batteries, 
 while the intervening spaces were supported by 
 "Eventual Barrages." A Battery was responsible 
 for seventeen dififerent barrages, as well as four C. 
 P. O.'s named Sirenes, Mort Mare, Bee de Canard 
 and General, and three concentrations. The 90's had 
 no barrage missions. In case of attack they would 
 concentrate against junctions of trenches and enemy 
 batteries. In the course of our stay at Bernecourt 
 our two 90 guns fired a total of 540 rounds while the 
 75's fired 5206 rounds. The 75 firing was divided as 
 follows : 
 
 Barrages, 20 times; C. P. O.'s, 10 times; Concen- 
 
108 BATTERY A 
 
 trations, 5 times; Reprisals, 5 times; Registration,16 
 times; Counter Battery, 11 times; Special Targets, 39 
 times. 
 
 Our reprisal fire was directed against a Boche 
 Command Post. For some time the enemy had been 
 shelling our two Infantry command posts (P. C. 
 Conde and P. C. Jeanne d'Arc) with great frequency 
 and had made each one a very dangerous place to 
 approach. It was therefore decided to retaliate every 
 time they were fired upon. Whenever a shell burst 
 near P. C. Conde, our mission was to drop fifty or 
 one hundred on top of a certain Boche P. C. As a 
 result, our P. C.'s were left alone thereafter ! 
 
 Counter Battery work always gave us great pleas- 
 ure. One enemy battery in particular, called "0248", 
 caused us especial inconvenience. It was a battery 
 of 88's, which shelled the road back of us every night 
 and everyone took great delight in giving it a taste 
 of its own medicine. 
 
 We participated in one offensive Coup de Main 
 when the 101st Infantry attacked the Camp du Moulin 
 to get information and capture prisoners. Our mission 
 was to neutralize the enemy supports by a heavy 
 gas concentration. Many French batteries came in to 
 assist in the "show." 
 
 We also helped repulse two enemy Coup de Mains 
 — one against the 101st Infantry near Limey and the 
 other against the 103rd Infantry at Xivray. In both 
 attacks, our position was shelled very heavily, but in 
 spite of it we fired barrages for several hours in each 
 case. 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 109 
 
 Our observation Post (O T 10) gave us splendid 
 opportunities to register. It was situated in a front 
 line trench on the northern edge of the Bois Jure 
 and overlooked a large area of Boche territory. 
 Every other day or so vv^e would register the various 
 lots of ammunition and check our firing data. 
 
 On June 27 our stay in the Toul Sector ended. A 
 French Regiment which had just come down from the 
 battles on the Somme relieved us, to rest and recuper- 
 ate, while we, our training period ended, went to test 
 our prowess in more desperate fields. 
 
 For the first time since the memorable forced 
 marches coming into the Toul sector, over three 
 months before, the colonel formed his regimental 
 column on the night of June 28. We were starting on 
 the first leg of an unknown journey. The picket lines 
 at Andilly had been left spotlessly clean. Mounted 
 inspections had been held. Men, horses, and equip- 
 ment were ready for the hardest kind of work. We 
 were leaving "Peace Time Warfare" behind us. What 
 the future had in store no one yet knew, but we all 
 felt confident that whatever it might be, it could not 
 be too hard for us. 
 
 We marched steadily all night long. The Very 
 lights, flares, and aeroplane rockets of our old sector 
 grew dimmer and dimmer as the hours went by. 
 Shortly after daybreak we drew into the town oi 
 Troussey, where we were to rest for the next few 
 days. Our park was established and our picket lines 
 stretched in a little meadow close by the river Meuse, 
 the men themselves going up into the town to billet. 
 
110 BATTERY A 
 
 The several days that followed were indeed a real 
 rest. Fine warm weather coupled with excellent 
 swimming facilities and a good athletic field made 
 things ideal for sport. Everyone temporarily forgot 
 that the war was going on. It was rudely brought 
 back on June 30, however, when we got orders that 
 we would entrain from the town of Vaucouleurs that 
 very evening. A short road march of about ten kilo- 
 meters brought us to the entraining point just after 
 dark, a fact which quite cancelled any hopes of a 
 speedy loading, owing to the necessity of showing no 
 lights, the enemy avions being in the habit of bomb- 
 ing the railroad yards at the slightest opportunity. 
 By ten o'clock, however, the train was moving out 
 of the station, with horses, men, and materiel safely 
 loaded aboard. 
 
 Our destination was still in doubt. We felt cer- 
 tain that we were going north, but that was as much 
 as we knew. The rumors grew more and more per- 
 sistent that we were going to parade in Paris on the 
 fourth of July; we all hoped so. Inasmuch as the 
 Germans had cut the main railroad line at Chateau- 
 Thierry in their June advance, traffic had to go 
 down around by Troyes in order to get to Paris and 
 points north but we did not realize that at the time. 
 Accordingly, when the next day found us rapidly ap- 
 proaching the metropolis of France from the South, 
 everyone felt confident that that was to be our desti- 
 nation. Things certainly looked bright for a while. 
 The Eiffel Tower appeared in the distance. The city 
 itself was springing up on all sides. The great junc- 
 tion of Noisy le Sec was slowly passed. But when the 
 
THE TOUL SECTOR 111 
 
 train stopped everyone's hopes sank lower and 
 lower. The train moved out again — IN THE OPPO- 
 SITE DIRECTION! We were a disgusted crowd. 
 To be inside the limits of Paris and then to be sud- 
 denly snatched away: well, we were "Off the Army" ! 
 Yet we did learn one thing at Noisy Le Sec and that 
 was our destination, or rather, our detraining point. 
 It was to be St. Mard, a town about 35 kilometers 
 away — within a short distance of Meaux, and not so 
 very far from the Soissons Chateau-Thierry battle 
 front! 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 CHATEAU-THIERRY 
 
 A BOUT ten o'clock in the evening of July 1, our 
 '^^ train pulled into St. Mard. Not a light showed 
 in the train yards, and the French brakeman warned 
 us, almost in a whisper, that the Boche aeroplanes had 
 bombed the town every night for over two weeks. 
 Rather naturally, therefore, we did not waste much 
 time in detraining. The ramps were exceedingly 
 limited, but in spite of that fact we had all the horses 
 and guns off the train and were on our way within 
 forty-five minutes of the time we arrived. The 
 knowledge that bombs may explode around you at 
 any moment is a tremendous incentive to speed, es- 
 pecially when there are no dugouts around. 
 
 Rumors as to our destination were flying around 
 thick and fast. We had been notified that it was a 
 town called Boutigny, but where was that ? We were 
 told by an old French peasant that it was about 28 
 kilometers away; a fact far from encouraging on a 
 very dark night and with no definite idea as to what 
 direction to take. Our scouts however, who were 
 sent off in different directions to find the route, did 
 not take long to guide us on our way. 
 
 All night long we marched. We could plainly see 
 the flashes of the distant guns on the front, while 
 every once in a while the uneven drone of the Boche 
 avions cautioned us to put out our cigarettes. Day- 
 light found us entering the outskirts of Meaux, still 
 
J«r^«Bea^:?-^ J -1 
 
 
 t 
 
 -1 
 
 K.^> 
 
 ,X^>i3iH 
 
 '. (• 
 
 
 ..H' 
 
'3\f 
 
 LOIS 
 
 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 113 
 
 traveling, and as far as we knew no rest or sleep in 
 sight. As the horses grew more and more tired the 
 troubles of the rear of the column increased, with its 
 park wagons, fourgon, ration cart, and water cart. 
 The park wagons were unwieldly anyway, but es- 
 pecially so when both drivers and horses were nine- 
 tenths asleep. First one would get stuck, and then 
 the other. The climax came on going down the long 
 hill into Meaux. The ration cart broke one of its 
 shafts (because the horse lay down to sleep) and 
 when once down, he refused to get up again in spite 
 of all the urging, caressing, pleading and beating that 
 we could heap upon him. Nevertheless, regardless 
 of all these customary marching difficulties, we at 
 last pulled into Boutigny at 6.30 A. M. We quickly 
 parked our guns and established the picket lines for 
 the horses. A small rivulet was soon found where 
 we could water the latter, and after they had been 
 watered and fed, everybody with one accord dropped 
 in their tracks, to sleep all day. Towards evening the 
 "epicures" of the Battery started to stir around the 
 village to find out what kind of a place it was. They 
 reported that it was "pas bon". Wine was scarce; 
 very few eggs or eatables could be purchased; and 
 the billets were poor. These three things told us the 
 value of any town. 
 
 By the next day, July 3, everybody was feeling 
 in trim and ready for hard work again. The drivers 
 were soon busy cleaning their harness and giving the 
 horses a real, thorough grooming, while the cannon- 
 eers refreshed themselves in "Open Warfare" drills, 
 picking up distant aiming points and firing at fleeting 
 
114 BATTERY A 
 
 targets. We all thought that we would soon have 
 use for this old American method of firing but as a 
 matter of fact it turned out to be entirely unpracti- 
 cal, even in the rapidest kind of open warfare. The 
 accurate French system of map firing proved to be 
 the best and easiest on every occasion. 
 
 July 4 was a banner day for those of us who hap- 
 pened to be athletes. We went down to Meaux to 
 compete with the 101st Infantry in athletics. 
 
 The artillery easily won the track events and 
 boxing but lost a very close and interesting baseball 
 game 2-1. Those of us who were left behind cleaned 
 equipment and guns and repacked the park wagons, 
 preparatory to an early start that evening. The hay 
 issue for the horses was very short, but we managed 
 to buy some from the French peasants to fill in the 
 gap. 
 
 By eight o'clock that night the Battery was once 
 again harnessed and hitched ready to move. An ex- 
 tra long hike was in store, but fortunately for the 
 cannonneers, who otherwise would have had to walk, 
 trucks were available for the transportation of dis- 
 mounted men. After traveling steadily for eight 
 hours along some of the darkest roads conceivable, 
 with just enough halts to rest the horses, the rest of 
 us reached the outskirts of Jouarre, our first night's 
 objective. The cannonneers had already arrived and 
 had even enjoyed a good night's sleep. Whereupon, 
 most of them, with a day of leisure on their hands, 
 went down to the nearby city of La Ferte to sight- 
 see, and spend their money. The drivers, however, 
 just took time enough to stretch the picket line and 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 115 
 
 to water and feed the horses before they crawled un- 
 der their caissons, to snatch a few hours sleep. 
 
 Experience in the army had taught everyone not 
 to believe that anything was true until that thing ac- 
 tually happened. Just because we had been told that 
 we would probably stay in Jouarre for twenty-four 
 hours did not prove that we would remain so long; 
 in fact, it would usually be a safe wager that the op- 
 posite would happen. Orders were continually chang- 
 ing. The following night was a classic. Late in the 
 afternoon orders were received to be ready to move 
 out at 6.30 P. M. We were, but that was as far as 
 we got. Ten o'clock came; we were still ready to 
 move out! Finally, definite orders arrived: "Unhar- 
 ness and unhitch, we will stay here until tomorrow." 
 Yet the night had just begun! The men had hardly 
 lain down and hardly stopped airing their opinions 
 about the army and its ever changing plans before 
 somebody sang out "All up, harness as fast as you 
 can; we have got to make 25 kilometers before day- 
 break." In the meantime, the battery commanders 
 were tearing up and down the roads many kilometers 
 to the west, trying in vain to find the Regiment. They 
 had gone forward to reconnoitre the front and to ar- 
 range for the relief with the Second Division when 
 information was received that the Germans would 
 probably launch an attack within forty-eight hours. 
 Consequently, all previous plans were thrown into 
 confusion. Instead of relieving the Second Division, 
 the 26th was to take up Reserve positions in the rear, 
 and to act as the second line of defense in case the 
 enemy broke through. 
 
116 BATTERY A 
 
 The regimental commander had sealed orders to 
 proceed along the Chateau-Thierry Highway until 
 stopped and given subsequent orders. This was all 
 our Colonel knew. Uncertainty reigned. Nobody 
 knew where the regiment was. It did not know where 
 it was expected to go and, to make matters worse, 
 orders were constantly crossing each other. By day- 
 light, however, the tangle straightened out; a forced 
 march had brought the echelon to Citry on the banks 
 of the Marne, and the firing battery to Limon where 
 they bivouacked for the day. At Limon the battery 
 commanders at last caught their organizations, for 
 which they had been searching all night. 
 
 Limon was situated on the high plateau overlook- 
 ing the valley of the Marne. Our mission was to or- 
 ganize a position somewhere in its neighborhood from 
 which we could support a second line of defence, sup- 
 posedly about 4000 meters in front of us. The ground 
 was accordingly carefully reconnoitred. Two separate 
 platoon positions were chosen. The first platoon was 
 on a high hill near Bezu and the second near the 
 Marne, above St. Aulde. The latter was in a position 
 to cover the valley leading up the Paris-Metz Road. 
 It was situated along a hedge in the corner of a wheat 
 field and so placed that the two guns could fire point 
 blank at anything in the valley. 
 
 The expected attack never developed, and we had 
 no sooner comfortably established ourselves in these 
 positions when orders arrived for the Second Platoon 
 to move forward to relieve a platoon of Battery A, 
 of the 12th Field Artillery, much to the Second Pla- 
 toon's regret, because it was in a splendid location. A 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 117 
 
 great chateau, hastily vacated by its owners, rose 
 just above it, v^ith its gardens full of fruit and vege- 
 tables, all ready to be eaten. Fine "lavoirs" or wash- 
 ing fountains were nearby, giving everybody a much 
 needed opportunity to wash their clothes, and last, 
 but first in importance, everyone welcomed the op- 
 portunity to get a swim in the Marne. But the war 
 had to go on regardless of men's desires. Midnight 
 found the third and fourth pieces jammed in the 
 never ending stream of traffic, winding up the Paris- 
 Metz Road through Montreuil. Once again the old 
 familiar whine of approaching shells sang out, and 
 once again the rapid bark of our own 75's cracked 
 like whips on all sides. We were now really in an 
 active sector. Both sides were pounding each other 
 continually. Cross roads were places to be dreaded. 
 One never lingered near them. The Americans kept 
 up a continuing harassing fire all night long on every 
 point within the German lines where the latter might 
 possibly assemble. 
 
 Battery A of the 12th had partially developed two 
 positions on the edges of a wood a few hundred 
 metres north of the Paris-Metz Highway, slightly 
 northwest of the Paris Farms. Both emplacements, 
 we found, could be greatly improved. The gun pits 
 were far from finished, and there was practically no 
 protection against enemy fire, what trenches there 
 were being very shallow and full of mud. One pla- 
 toon was to be in each position. The first platoon's 
 position was supposed to be silent, while the second's 
 was to do all the firing; the theory being to save the 
 first for a real attack. 
 
118 BATTERY A 
 
 Of course, we all were quite excited about this 
 new sector. All during June we had heard about 
 Chateau-Thierry, Belleau Woods, Bouresches, etc. 
 Now we were there ourselves. The front lines were 
 about 4000 metres in front of us, stretching through 
 a deep valley. A short distance to the south, on a 
 bend of the Marne, lay Chateau-Thierry, with that 
 famous Hill 204 cutting most of it off from view. 
 Then came the much battered village of Vaux which 
 had just been captured in a desperate fight a few days 
 before. It was a "windy" place to be those days, as 
 the enemy raked it with machine gun and trench mor- 
 tar fire all day and night. A little farther up the val- 
 ley nestled Bouresches, a point of tremendous conten- 
 tion for both sides. Most of the time it was little 
 more than No Man's Land because either side made 
 it too "hot" for the other to hold. Beyond Bouresches 
 came Belleau and Torcy, both within the German 
 lines. 
 
 On the American side of the valley, Belleau Woods 
 stretched out from Lucy LeBocage down to Belleau 
 and Bouresches. It had been terribly smashed by 
 terrific concentrations of artillery, and the stench 
 from dead bodies and mustard gas was beyond de- 
 scription. Lucy LeBocage itself was never free from 
 the crash of ISO's. Situated as it was, overlooking 
 the valley, it offered a splendid target to enemy ar- 
 tillerymen. 
 
 The German half of the valley sloped gradually 
 up to the plateau behind. Open fields, interspersed 
 with bits of woods here and there, predominated. 
 Several large farms like "La Gonetrie" stood out 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 1 19 
 
 prominently. The latter became a favorite registra- 
 tion point for the American artillery. The I55's and 
 75's alike registered their guns there daily. 
 
 Of course in a new, undeveloped, active sector 
 like this one, the "front lines" were a myth. They 
 did not exist. The Infantry had no protection what- 
 soever. They lay around in shallow holes or hid 
 among the wheat and bushes as best they could. To 
 show one's head was fatal. The enemy was relentless. 
 Day and night he harassed with 77's and gas. 
 
 The battery positions also were frequently sub- 
 jected to heavy fire, but C Battery was the only one 
 to suffer severely. It did not take us long to see that 
 our work was cut out for us from the start. To de- 
 velop our positions an immense amount of digging 
 and construction work had to be done. Ammunition 
 had to be brought in over a slippery path through the 
 woods, and cleaned, and we had to maintain a steady 
 harassing fire all night. All sorts of schemes were 
 tried out to help the ammunition situation. First, we 
 used a stretcher, but it broke on its third trip; then we 
 tried a vehicle, closely resembling a baby carriage, 
 without much success. Next we tried slinging bags 
 over the back of a horse, but the path was too narrow 
 and slippery. Finally, we were back where we started 
 with the old way of four shells in a sandbag. 
 
 As mentioned above, our two guns in the active 
 platoon were kept busy every night harassing the 
 German lines. As a rule, two cannonneers on each 
 piece were sufficient at a time, but even at that the 
 cannonneers got little sleep, between digging all day 
 and firing and carrying ammunition all night. 
 
120 BATTERY A 
 
 As a rule our firing schedule would arrive from 
 Battalion Headquarters in the late afternoon. It 
 would usually allot us about four hundred rounds to 
 be fired on designated targets such as machine gun 
 posts, kitchen abris, or strong points in the German 
 lines. The night of July 9 might be taken as a typical 
 night's firing: 
 
 21.02 o'clock, 15 rounds, village of Torcy; 21.10, 
 20 rounds, Woods near Les Brusses Fme; 21.14, 10 
 rounds. Village of Monthiers; 21.54, 20 rounds, In- 
 fantry Kitchen; 22.05, 15 rounds. Village of Belleau; 
 22.08, 10 rounds. Cross roads S. W. of Givry; 22.25, 
 25 rounds. Village of Torcy; 22.31, 25 rounds. Village 
 of Torcy; 22.49, 10 rounds. Infantry Kitchen; 23.20, 
 10 rounds. Crossroads S. W. of Givry; 23.45, 5 rounds. 
 Village of Belleau; 0.30 (A. M.), 10 rounds. Village 
 of Belleau; 0.48, 25 rounds, Village of Monthiers; 1.35 
 50 rounds, Village of Belleau; 1.55, 25 rounds. Village 
 of Etrepilly; 2.15, 25 rounds. Woods near Les Brusses 
 Fme; 2.35, 5 rounds. Woods near Les Brusses; 2.50, 
 10 rounds. Woods near Les Brusses; 3.25, 10 rounds, 
 Woods near Les Brusses; 3.30, 10 rounds. Woods near 
 Les Brusses; 4.10, 15 rounds, Cross Roads S. W. of 
 Givry; 5.25, 50 rounds, Woods near Les Brusses, Fme. 
 
 We kept up this nightly fire steadily between July 
 8 and 18. The days would be fairly quiet but as soon 
 as dusk stole in, all the batteries in the sector would 
 open up and continue until dawn. The ammunition 
 we were getting at this period was extremely poor. 
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CHATEAU-THIERRY 121 
 
 through premature bursts, but even as it was, a num- 
 ber of guns in the Brigade did blow up. We were 
 unfortunate in having one of ours blow up early in 
 the morning of July 13. The fourth piece, of which 
 Ralph Farnsworth was chief, had been firing inter- 
 mittently during the night. Farnsworth was acting 
 as gunner and Dyer was playing No. 1. At 3.50 A. M. 
 the gun blew up, instantly killing the former and 
 badly burning the latter. 
 
 There is nothing more morale breaking or terri- 
 fying to an artilleryman than the explosion of one of 
 his own guns. Everyone of us was affected by this 
 one of ours. From then on, we never took any chances 
 in firing. We always fired with a long lanyard and 
 every man took protection before each shot. 
 
 On July 15, the first platoon relieved the second in 
 the active position, the guns staying where they were. 
 As usual in such cases, the cannonneers hated to 
 leave their own guns. They did not welcome the idea 
 of someone else fooling with their pet pieces. The 
 same was true of the drivers. Let someone else touch 
 their horses without permission, and there would be 
 all kinds of trouble. In fact, there never yet was a 
 section that did not claim that its guns and horses 
 were infinitely better than those of the other sections. 
 
 The enemy artillery, on the whole, did not cause 
 us very much trouble. They frequently dropped big 
 210's on the woods and area just to our rear and they 
 were wont to shell the road heavily near our silent 
 platoon, but they never actually landed a shell in our 
 position. On several occasions the wooded areas in 
 front of us were heavily gassed with mustard gas, 
 
122 BATTERY A 
 
 but we only had to keep our masks on for an hour 
 or so each time. 
 
 While these events were happening with the fir- 
 ing battery, the drivers were having a very busy 
 time. On the night of July 7 the echelon had moved 
 up from Citry to Montreuil where the regulars had 
 their echelon, — a trip replete with halts and long de- 
 lays. It seemed as if the whole army had chosen that 
 one road, so great was the traffic jam all night. Then, 
 to add to the troubles, the lumbering American cais- 
 son, — or "Chinese caisson" as it was commonly called, 
 — went half over a bank near the new echelon, and so 
 the rest of the time before daybreak had to be spent 
 in pulling it on to the road again. 
 
 At Montreuil the real work for the drivers began. 
 Each night the caissons would have to make trips to 
 the Battery position with ammunition. The ammu- 
 nition dump was five miles to the rear of the echelon, 
 and only one battery could load shells at one time. 
 Consequently, it would often be several hours before 
 our turn arrived. Now a night trip to this "Pas Fini" 
 Sector, as it was called, was far from pleasant. The 
 roads were always crowded with traffic, and they 
 were usually subject to constant harassing fire from 
 the Boche. Moreover, the favorite place for ISO's 
 was a very steep hill leading up from Montreuil, 
 where no speed could possibly be shown, and it was 
 the only road that could be taken to get to the Bat- 
 tery. No one who has never been on a horse under 
 shell fire can realize how absolutely helpless one feels. 
 There you are, six feet from the ground, with no 
 chance of flattening out when a shell lands near. 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 123 
 
 Many were the narrow escapes that our drivers had. 
 Yet not one of them was hit. The echelons at Mon- 
 treuil were shelled a number of different times but 
 A Battery never lost a horse or a man. The water 
 cart driver probably experienced more thrilling mo- 
 ments than anybody. The water cart was always 
 kept at the battery position, but the water had to be 
 hauled from Paris Farms. Paris Farms was a very 
 ticklish place. It stood right at an important cross 
 road and everyone took especial care to avoid it, if 
 possible. The water cart driver would wait until the 
 Boche harassment had let up for a short time and 
 then he would gallop in and try to get away before 
 another burst came over. Twice he got caught in 
 concentrations of ISO's, but by some mysterious luck, 
 neither he nor his two old horses were touched. 
 
 By July 15 there seemed to be "something in the 
 air." Rumors began to float around of expected of- 
 fensives, some having it that we were going to at- 
 tack, others that the Boches were. The drivers were 
 working doubly hard hauling ammunition. We had 
 over five thousand rounds in our position. About 
 midnight on July 15, a runner from Battalion Head- 
 quarters rushed over with a startling order. "Infor- 
 mation is at hand that the enemy will attack at dawn. 
 Figure and be ready to fire your emergency line of 
 resistance barrages." We were all prepared for the 
 worst ; the cannoneers worked desperately cleaning 
 up the ammunition, the machine gunners stood by 
 their guns. The thermite grenades were got out, to 
 destroy the guns in case we should be forced to re- 
 treat. 
 
124 BATTERY A 
 
 Sure enough at dawn the great German offensive 
 broke loose — but it was smashing against the lines 
 along the banks of the Marne and not against us. All 
 day long we could hear the tremendous roar of the 
 guns to the east of us. Our front remained fairly 
 quiet, except for the heavy gassing of a few wooded 
 areas near us. 
 
 When the drivers came up with ammunition that 
 evening, they were full of rumors about great prep- 
 arations in the rear for an attack by us. Big guns of 
 all calibres were being brought in. Everything 
 pointed to action very shortly. For a day or so noth- 
 ing out of the ordinary happened, except perhaps that 
 rumors flew around thicker than before. All night 
 long as usual, we kept on with our harassing fire, and 
 as usual, nine caissons of ammunition, 900 rounds, ar- 
 rived each night. 
 
 July 18 proved to be a never-to-be-forgotten day. 
 At 3 A. M. orders were received from Battalion Head- 
 quarters that "H. Hour" would be at 4.35. A long 
 rolling barrage was rapidly figured out, and at 4.35, 
 with no previous preparatory fire, every gun along the 
 western side of the Chateau-Thierry Salient opened 
 up together. It was a remarkable sound, and it pro- 
 duced a wonderful feeling, to know that the allies 
 were at last on the offensive again! 
 
 We fired over 1400 round that morning, first on 
 the rolling Barrage and then on various machine posts 
 that were giving the Infantry trouble. About noon 
 we fired several Barrages over Hill 193 back of Giv- 
 ry. These were only to be fired as a protection for 
 the Infantry when they had captured their objectives, 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 125 
 
 and the knowledge of that fact made us realize that 
 the attack had been successful. Sure enough, orders 
 soon came in to move forward, and Lieutenant Mac- 
 Namee went ahead to reconnoitre. The limbers were 
 sent for from the echelon, and by dusk the firing bat- 
 tery was heading down the road into Lucy Le Bocage. 
 
 The very idea of going down this road in broad 
 daylight with the guns and horses, sent a real thrill 
 through everyone of us. Up to the night before it 
 was considered very risky for even one man alone 
 to do it, the whole route being in direct observation 
 of the Germans from across the valley. As we went 
 along we could look down upon the northern battle- 
 field. Town after town was buried in great clouds 
 of smoke and flames. Below us we could catch 
 glimpses of Torcy and Belleau through the trees. 
 They were now in our possession, but the Germans 
 were battering them savagely. 
 
 Our new position was barely 900 metres from the 
 front line, on a fringe of Belleau Woods. A slight 
 crest in front gave us good defilade from the enemy, 
 but even with that protection we were a little too 
 close for comfort, because the German sound-ranging 
 stations were wonderful at locating our guns, and of 
 course the closer one got the more chance the enemy 
 would have of spotting him. 
 
 We tried the experiment on our first night of reg- 
 istering our guns by moonlight. It worked very well 
 indeed. We fired shrapnel on La Gonetrie Farm. 
 Air bursts could easily be seen, and we were thereby 
 enabled to check up on the "laying in" of our guns. 
 
 We learned a terrible lesson in this Belleau Wood 
 
126 BATTERY A 
 
 position; — one that we never forgot afterwards. By 
 the time we had our guns "laid in", trail pits dug, and 
 ammunition sorted out, it was well towards midnight. 
 As everybody was pretty well tired out, all the can- 
 noneers with the exception of the gun guards, went 
 off to sleep, the digging of protective trenches being 
 put off till the next morning. About 6 A. M. the Ger- 
 mans opened up a savage bombardment of 77's which 
 literally swamped the area around us. The second 
 section's ammunition pile was struck. Shells were 
 blowing up in all directions. No one could stay there 
 and live. Everybody made for some trenches about 
 100 metres away. But the damage had been done. 
 Phil Cunningham and Laurence Williams were in- 
 stantly killed; Seth Eldridge was mortally wounded 
 and Jack Dunn, George Tyler, Ed. Martin and Parker, 
 the medical man, were all seriously wounded. From 
 then on, it made no difference what time of night we 
 established our position, we never stopped to lie down 
 until good, deep, shelter trenches had been dug first! 
 
 In addition to our casualties, the first section gun, 
 old "Lil," was found to be too badly damaged to use 
 any more. We hated to turn it in, as it was a won- 
 derful piece and had always worked like a charm, 
 but, — c'est la guerre. 
 
 During July 19 no further advance was made by 
 our Division. We had to wait for the forces farther 
 north to advance before we attempted to push in the 
 pocket opposite us. We, however, harassed the Ger- 
 man lines continually, to prevent as far as possible 
 their bringing up reserves and supplies. We shelled 
 all the roads around Etrepilly, the wooded areas back 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 127 
 
 of Givry and the Petit Bois in Belleau Ravine, where 
 machine guns and one pounders were bothering our 
 Infantry considerably. 
 
 On July 20 the attack was renewed. At 14.50, af- 
 ter a previous preparation of two hours and a half, 
 we started firing a long rolling barrage towards Etre- 
 pilly. The Infantry met savage machine gun oppo- 
 sition. From the slopes above the Petits Bois the 
 enemy raked our advancing troops. The crest beyond 
 our position gave us a wonderful view of the whole 
 fight. The German machine gunners had got through 
 our rolling barrage and they — hundreds of them — 
 were advancing across a large wheat field to stop our 
 "doughboys". Their commander was carrying a 
 cane, and seemingly perfectly oblivious to the sur- 
 rounding crash of the shells, was directing his men 
 to establish their guns along the shell holes. We 
 promptly stopped firing our rolling barrage and 
 opened up on these machine gunners with shrapnel 
 and shell. The shell with black fuse was especially 
 eflfective as it richocheted oiif the ground and burst 
 with terrifific effect in the air above. We plainly ob- 
 served six or seven direct hits on the machine gun 
 nests before our ammunition gave out. . . . 
 
 Our drivers had been working night and day haul- 
 ing ammunition, but the terrifific firing of the last few 
 days — on an average of 1000 rounds a day — had got 
 ahead of the supply on hand. We sent back for them 
 to rush up more. They did. They galloped the nine 
 caissons over a road in plain view of the enemy, with 
 shells bursting on all sides of them. They got 
 
128 BATTERY A 
 
 through, though they were too late to help us against 
 the machine gunners. 
 
 The next morning at daybreak, a Division Staff 
 car was seen coming into Lucy LeBocage. Some- 
 thing big must have happened! We investigated. 
 Sure enough, Division Headquarters was actually in 
 the town! The enemy had retreated over night and 
 our Infantry was rapidly pursuing him. Battalion 
 Headquarters had already sent for our drivers to come 
 up. They soon arrived. The guns were limbered up, 
 the camouflage nets, picks, shovels, axes, and special 
 detail equipment were packed on, and once again we 
 were moving forward, this time down through Bel- 
 leau Woods, through Torcy and Belleau, and up 
 towards Etrepilly. 
 
 We hardly knew what to expect in the way of sur- 
 prise attacks from the enemy. We were on the look- 
 out for anything. Most of our cannoneers armed 
 themselves with rifles which they had picked up. 
 They marched at the head of the column, ready to 
 meet any counter attack that might develop. 
 
 The roads, poor as they were, were crowded with 
 every description of military vehicle. The machine 
 gunners, with their mule carts, convoys of French 
 pack mules, supply wagons, ration carts, water carts, 
 rolling kitchens, French and American artillery and 
 infantry were all moving in a jumbled mass towards 
 the enemy. 
 
 It is hard to describe our feelings as we passed 
 over the ground we had been shelling the day before. 
 Here was Torcy, one of our favorite targets. Here 
 were the Petits Bois, which had been so infested with 
 

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CHATEAU-THIERRY 129 
 
 machine guns. Here was the Etrepilly Road which 
 we had often harassed. Our pride rose when we 
 saw the effects of our work. Desolation and destruc- 
 tion reigned supreme: Torcy and Belleau were in 
 ruins ; the wooded areas were ploughed up with shell 
 holes; dead Germans and dead horses were very 
 numerous. 
 
 After a hard pull up the German side of the valley, 
 we halted near Etrepilly while the battery command- 
 ers went ahead to reconnoitre the ground. The Ger- 
 man observation balloons, which had been drawn 
 back when the advance first started, began to pop up 
 ahead. Their presence warned us that the enemy 
 was making a stand not so very far away. There was 
 much uncertainty as to where the outposts of our 
 Infantry were. The Bethune-Chateau Thierry High- 
 way, about three kilometers east of Etrepilly, seemed 
 to mark our front lines, judging by the shelling it was 
 receiving from the enemy 88's, although it was re- 
 ported by an Infantry runner that the Germans were 
 making a stand one kilometer farther east on the high 
 ground above Epieds. 
 
 Our position was picked out in a clump of bushes 
 near St. Robert Farm, about 1000 meters southwest of 
 the Bethune-Chateau Thierry Highway. It evidently 
 had been used by the Germans as a balloon base. Nu- 
 merous deep trenches and open dugouts afforded good 
 protection for our men. There our souvenir hunters 
 got their first chance to pick up trophies. German 
 helmets, machine gun pouches, shoes of all kinds, 
 rifles and mess kits could be gathered up almost any- 
 where. 
 
130 BATTERY A 
 
 Now that we were really on the move, our echelon 
 was split into a forward echelon, containing the nine 
 caissons, four limbers, ration cart and water cart, 
 and their horses and drivers, and a rear echelon, con- 
 sisting of the two park wagons, battery and forge 
 wagons, and the fourgon. 
 
 The latter did not keep up with the Battery. It 
 acted as a supply depot, receiving forage and provis- 
 ions from the Supply Company, and sending them 
 forward each day to the firing battery. The same day 
 that the firing battery moved to St. Robert Farm, the 
 rear echelon moved forward from Montreuil to the 
 Grand Rue Farm, taking the route via Monthiers and 
 Etrepilly. 
 
 The drivers, all in all, were "fighting a hard war." 
 It was bad enough to haul ammunition day and night 
 with no sleep, but the climax came when the orders 
 to advance arrived. The orders came in when they 
 were up at the front. Consequently, they had no 
 chance to go back to their echelon to get their eflFects, 
 and a crowd of Italian road laborers promptly "sal- 
 vaged" everything they could find, — they found ev- 
 erything! Yet, the drivers were not really seriously 
 bothered. They always had their horse blankets to 
 sleep in, while equipment and clothing galore could 
 be picked up on all sides. Their biggest worries did 
 not center on personal equipment or clothing — those 
 were minor points — the big questions were sleep, 
 their horses, and where to find ammunition. The 
 latter was especially vexing. The ammunition dumps 
 were naturally constantly changing, as the troops 
 moved forward and their supply of shells was very 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 131 
 
 variable. Nothing was more aggravating than to be 
 sent after ammunition at midnight — over roads you 
 were not acquainted with — and then to find the dump 
 empty, or else that it had moved ten kilometers away 
 an hour before. It was bad enough finding what you 
 were looking for in the daytime, in an unfamiliar 
 country, but at night, with no lights, with no knowl- 
 edge of the roads, and with only the vaguest direc- 
 tions, it was a real task! 
 
 At St. Robert Farm, our firing assumed large 
 proportions. The Boches were making a desperate 
 stand in Epieds, Trugny, and the ridges beyond. 
 Epieds changed hands several times; but it proved to 
 be too "hot" for our Infantry to hold with enemy ma- 
 chine guns sweeping it from every side. During the 
 night of July 22 we fired our Epieds Defensive Bar- 
 rage three times, a fact which seemed to indicate that 
 we were holding the town, but at 4.15 the next morn- 
 ing we fired 600 rounds into the town itself. 
 
 The evening of July 22 proved to be quite exciting. 
 Major Richardson had received very vague orders to 
 advance with the Infantry. He formed the Battal- 
 ion and we all moved out towards the Bethune-Chat- 
 eau Thierry Road. But the vicious shelling ahead 
 looked ominous. Our Infantry obviously was not ad- 
 vancing very fast. To go ahead along that road would 
 have been fatal; we turned up through the little ham- 
 let of Chante-Merle. We halted along a sunken road 
 while desperate eflForts were made to reestablish lia- 
 son with the Infantry and to find out what really was 
 happening. In the meantime shells began to break 
 all around us. Never had we felt more helpless than 
 
132 BATTERY A 
 
 that night while we waited there for over an hour. 
 The drivers stood by their horses' heads. The can- 
 noneers — ^just waited, as shell after shell "zinged" 
 by and burst barely ten yards beyond. The sunken 
 road saved us. That and nothing else prevented 
 heavy casualties. Information now arrived that the 
 Boche had counter-attacked and our Infantry were 
 retreating — not advancing. We therefore quickly 
 pulled back to our former position and again "lay" 
 on our old barrages. 
 
 On July 23 the situation did not change. Our 
 guns combed the wooded slopes beyond Epieds, while 
 our drivers brought in caisson after caisson of ammu- 
 nition from the dump near La Saccerie Farm. Late 
 in the afternoon a report that enemy tanks were op- 
 erating near La Gouttiere Farm between Bezu-St. 
 Germain and Epieds, brought out a heavy concen- 
 tration of artillery but nothing serious developed. 
 
 At length, on July 24, the Infantry finally managed 
 to dislodge the enemy and drive him back. We 
 started forward along the Bethune-Chateau Thierry 
 Highway and then we swung to the northeast 
 through Bezu, St. German and Epieds. Dead Amer- 
 icans and Germans on every side gave evidence of the 
 savageness of the fighting that had preceded us. Our 
 headway was very slow, as traflfic was badly tied up 
 in Epieds. Four roads met in this town, and no less 
 than three regiments of Infantry and three regiments 
 of Artillery were trying to get through at the same 
 time, from different directions. It would have been a 
 wonderful opportunity for the enemy's artillery, but 
 luckily our aeroplanes were supreme and no Boche 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 133 
 
 got a chance to see what was happening. Then again, 
 the enemy was so busy trying to pull back his own 
 guns that he had little chance to harass us. 
 
 The jam finally became so serious that General 
 Edwards, General Aultman and General Lassiter 
 were all in the square together trying to straighten 
 out the tangle. Finally we got through, to take up a 
 position between Courpoil and Epieds near some fine 
 old German dugouts. Unfortunately the 111th In- 
 fantry of the 28th Division who had come in to help 
 relieve our Infantry, were camped in the same wood. 
 It was their first trip to the front. They evidently 
 did not realize the danger of smoke, for it seemed as 
 if every other man had started a fire to cook some 
 food for himself. Great clouds of smoke arose. We 
 expected to be shelled at any time. 
 
 In the meantime our Infantry had pushed on to 
 the Forest of Fere when they again met stiff oppo- 
 sition near the Croix-Rouge Farm. They were com- 
 pletely exhausted by their terrific night and day work 
 of the past few days, and were fighting on their 
 nerve alone. The 111th and 112th infantry of the 
 28th Division relieved them for a brief period, but 
 they in turn were soon relieved by the 42nd Division. 
 The Artillery and Engineers kept on. They were des- 
 tined to support four divisions: the 26th, 28th, 42nd 
 and 4th. 
 
 This Epieds position was a busy one during the 
 two days that we were here. We combed the woods 
 beyond the Croix Rouge Farm again and again. We 
 fired several long rolling barrages through them, but 
 nevertheless the Infantry was making little head- 
 
134 BATTERY A 
 
 way. The 111th tried to get through but was al- 
 most wiped out in so doing. We outfitted most of 
 our Battery from the equipment they left behind. The 
 German aeroplanes were beginning to get increas- 
 ingly active. During the first few days of the drive, 
 thirty or forty Allied planes would be in the air at one 
 time, while no Germans would be seen. Now the 
 tables were slowly beginning to turn. Richtofen's 
 "flying circus" made its appearance. Eight or ten 
 German planes would come over the lines at once 
 looping the loop and diving straight down at our 
 troops, machine gunning all the while. Each day 
 they grew bolder and bolder until they soon had 
 driven the Allied planes off the lines completely. Our 
 anti-aircraft guns never worried them at all. The 
 observation balloons on both sides were having a bad 
 time of it as each side was continually going over 
 after its opponent's balloons. One German plane 
 came over one afternoon and got no less than three 
 Allied balloons in one swoop. 
 
 On July 27, the enemy was once again dislodged 
 and driven back. During the evening we pushed for- 
 ward through Courpoil, through Beuvardes, and 
 then swung to the right towards the Croix-Blanche 
 and Croix-Rouge Farms. As yet the extent of our 
 advance was not definitely known. We waited most 
 of the night on the road, trying to get information as 
 to where the front lines were. About midnight a 
 troop of French Cavalry passed us coming back from 
 the attack. They reported that, the enemy was fall- 
 ing back across the River Ourcq but that he was fight- 
 ing every inch of the way. They themselves had been 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 135 
 
 cut to pieces, — a fact which the large number of rider- 
 less horses only too plainly showed. 
 
 About one A. M. we moved forward again and 
 took up a position along a hedge near the Croix-Rouge 
 Farm. We dug in till daylight, when we camou- 
 flaged our guns and tried to get some sleep. The for- 
 ward echelon and the kitchen established themselves 
 in the woods close by. These were the very woods 
 which we had shelled so much the day before. The 
 bitterest of fighting had taken place all through the 
 area. Dead Americans and Germans were lying 
 around on every side. 
 
 The enemy was evidently making a real stand in 
 front of us. His artillery began to be very active ; the 
 morale breaking 88's were continually harassing the 
 roads and the front edge of our woods. Our drivers 
 in watering their horses at the Croix Rouge Farm had 
 several very close encounters with these 88's. A 77 
 is well called the "WZZZZ BANG". The 88, on the 
 other hand is the reverse. The BANG comes first, 
 followed by the blood-curdling WZZZZZRRR. The 
 shell travels faster than the sound. 
 
 In spite of the fighting ahead, we advanced again 
 during the night of July 28. The roads were badly 
 blocked. Trucks, caissons, guns, supply wagons of 
 every description were struggling to get through, 
 without a light of any kind to break the darkness. 
 After many long delays, we pulled up over the plateau 
 beyond Beuvardes, passed Preaux Farm, and laid in 
 our guns in a hummocky open field near Esperance 
 Farm. We stretched our camouflage nets in an ir- 
 regular line among the hollows in the ground and 
 
136 BATTERY A 
 
 wasted no time in "digging in." Esperance Farm is 
 a name that will never be forgotten by any man in the 
 Battery who was there. It marked the climax of the 
 whole drive. Beyond it lay the deep valley of the 
 Ourcq with the plateaus on both sides sloping down 
 very gradually into it. Nesles, and its famous old 
 chateau cuddled against the woods on the further 
 crest. The city of Fere-en-Tardenois stood out boldly, 
 more to the left. Sergy, Seringes, and Ville-Sur-Fere 
 nestled among the trees along the river bank. 
 
 The Boches were assembled in great strength 
 along the northern bank of the river, and on the 
 heights above. Their artillery was most aggressive, 
 pounding our advanced lines continually, and forever 
 harassing every bit of woods where they suspected a 
 battery might be concealed. 
 
 Around us the area was alive with troops. Guns, 
 in many places, were almost hub to hub. The ar- 
 tillery of the 26th and 42nd divisions were packed in 
 side by side. It was indeed lucky for us that we had 
 our positions in an open field. Boche ISO's were burst- 
 ing all around us day and night, but not once did 
 they find us. Their aeroplanes darted over the 
 lines close to the ground at all hours of the day, ma- 
 chine gunning everything in sight. Once, an aero- 
 plane spotted one of our caissons unloading amYnuni- 
 tion. Seven planes in a row dove at it, firing in short 
 bursts, but luckily no damage was done. How we 
 prayed for our planes to do something! But the 
 enemy was master of the air ! No Allied plane dared 
 to show itself. Frequently seventy-five or eighty 
 Boche planes would come over at once, in great squad- 
 
ONE OF THE GUNS IN THE BELLEAU WOODS CAMOUFLAGED TO PREVENT DETECTION 
 BY THE BOCHE 
 
 THIRD PIECE IN POSITION NEAR THE PARIS-METZ ROAD IN THE AISNE-MARNE 
 OFFENSIVE 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 137 
 
 rons of 20 or 25 each. Our anti-aircraft guns would 
 fill the air with their bursts while our machine gun- 
 ners tried in vain to worry the daredevil enemy. 
 
 Our own firing in this position was the most in- 
 tense we had ever done. On July 29 we fired 1273 
 rounds, on the 30th, 2050 rounds, on the 31st, 1050 
 rounds, and on Aug. 1, 1300 rounds. The special mis- 
 sion of our Regiment was to support the 167th Infan- 
 try in its advance. It was having a hard time cross- 
 ing the Ourcq, for the pick of the Prussian guards 
 opposed it. In Sergy, the most desperate hand to 
 hand fighting took place. First one side would cap- 
 ture the town and then the other. The wheat fields 
 above it were alive with machine gun nests. From 
 every angle they swept our lines with a murderous 
 fire. We combed these fields again and again with 
 our 75's. We concentrated on Sergy, on Nesles, and 
 on the woods beyond. We fired numerous rolling 
 barrages for our troops to advance under. Every 
 hedge, every bush, housed a machine gun which had 
 to be dislodged. There was a proud moment for us 
 on July 30. The Infantry advance was held up by a 
 machine gun nest in front of it, and their liason officer 
 telephoned back to his Colonel. He gave us its co- 
 ordinates and told us to destroy it. The third piece 
 fired two shots: — the second shot was a direct hit! 
 
 Most of the cannoneers were now practically deaf 
 from the efifects of the firing. The telephone was of 
 no use in calling up the guns as nobody could hear it. 
 It was now fourteen days since the drive started. 
 Everybody was tired before it began, but now after 
 this long period of no sleep and continuous twenty- 
 
138 BATTERY A 
 
 four hours a day work, spirit and nerve alone were 
 all that was carrying the men forward. 
 
 The drivers were having almost as bad a time, 
 always on the move, and hauling ammunition or sup- 
 plies night and day. The horses were wonderful. 
 Often their harness would be on for several days at a 
 time. Their meals were uncertain and irregular, yet 
 they almost seemed to catch the spirit of the men! 
 Nothing was too hard for them ! The forward eche- 
 lon was in the woods near Preaux Farm. Here was 
 the kitchen also. All food for the firing battery had 
 to be brought up from here, since any smoke at the 
 battery itself would give away the position. 
 
 Up to this time the drivers had been very lucky. 
 Joe Zwinge, who had been killed in April, was their 
 only casualty. They had not really been shaken by 
 the death of their intimate friends as had the can- 
 noneers. On July 29, the blow fell when a 150 
 exploded among them. Raymond Rowland, Charley 
 Ellis and Ed Hooper were instantly killed. 
 
 The rear echelon, in the meantime, had been mov- 
 ing forward by slower jumps. On July 25, it moved 
 up to Epieds where it stayed for several days. Then 
 it moved to Beuvardes. Here some fine new French 
 horses were received which solved the problem of 
 hauling the park-wagons. 
 
 On August 2 the Germans were dislodged from 
 their strong positions and were thrown back towards 
 the Vesle River. Late in the afternoon we moved 
 down towards the Ourcq and crossed it near Sergy. 
 We expected to find a good sized river, but in reality 
 it more closely resembled a small brook. We estab- 
 
CHATEAU-THIERRY 139 
 
 lished our position not far from its banks, in that fa- 
 mous wheat field near Sergy. Hundreds and hundreds 
 of dead were lying around us in every direction. Ma- 
 chine guns, rifles, and equipment of every description 
 covered the ground. The reserve rations of the dead 
 helped us tide over an otherwise foodless day, as our 
 ration cart never caught up to us from the rear. 
 
 The enemy, however, had got beyond gun range. 
 We did not fire a round but pushed along the next 
 day. As usual the roads were in bad shape. The 4th 
 Division was coming in to relieve the 42nd, while the 
 artillery of both the 42nd and 26th were on the 
 move at the same time. Moreover, the roads were in 
 a badly torn up condition, the effects of our own fir- 
 ing. Inwardly, we swelled with pride at our accuracy, 
 but outwardly we swore at it for causing us so 
 much trouble now. We passed through Nesles and 
 then struggled along toward the Bon Homme Farm. 
 The pulling was very hard indeed. We had only four 
 horses on each gun and caisson, and their food al- 
 lowance was so small that day — our fourgon having 
 been stuck in a mud hole — that they were really 
 working on empty stomachs. 
 
 In the late afternoon of August 3 after our longest 
 advance of the drive, we placed our guns near a little 
 town called La Tuilerie, about five or six kilometres 
 south of Fismes. We were relieved the next day. We 
 had gone through the whole drive — eighteen days and 
 nights of continuous action. We had supported four 
 divisions and we had fired 17,790 rounds against the 
 Germans. The men were dead tired, deaf, and work- 
 ing on nerve alone, but the spirit was still there; no 
 
140 BATTERY A 
 
 one grumbled. They would have gone on willingly, 
 if ordered. Rumors about relief had drifted around 
 so often that we hardly believed it now that it came 
 true. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A REAL REST 
 
 "NJEWS of the long hoped for relief came unexpect- 
 edly late in the afternoon of August 4. Mem- 
 bers of the Battery were seen embracing each other 
 in transports of joy at the idea of getting a night's 
 sleep. Soon after supper the Battery was packed, 
 harnessed and hitched, with its back turned to the line 
 of burning villages beyond the Vesle, impatiently 
 awaiting the word to move. This was a trying time, 
 because now that we were relieved, our lives had 
 taken on a new value, and Boche 77's kept dropping 
 in the fields not far away. We waited there without 
 moving until 2.30 A. M. Meanwhile, a fine rain had 
 set in, chilling men and horses. Once on our way we 
 felt more secure, as every turn in the wheels brought 
 us nearer safety. Even then we were treated to a 
 peculiar surprise. We had traveled several kilo- 
 meters and felt sure we were out of range, but our 
 road must have led parallel to the front, for during a 
 halt near a crossroad, several 77*s whizzed towards 
 us and crashed in the meadow on our right. It sent 
 a nervous chill down our backs (along with the rain 
 which by now had penetrated the newest slickers.) 
 If some person, — shaved, brushed and white 
 spatted, his opinions of war based on the smug re- 
 cruiting sergeants of Boston Common — could have 
 been suddenly lifted from Tremont Street and set 
 daintily down in the main street of Fere-en-Tarde- 
 nois on that morning, he would have wept as our Bat- 
 
142 BATTERY A 
 
 tery passed. Plain description is beggared by the 
 spectacle we presented. Take a man a few thousand 
 miles from home; throw away his razor, toothbrush, 
 and everything he owns except the uniform, shoes, 
 slicker, and wet blanket ; roll him freely in fresh mud, 
 not neglecting face and neck; tear his slicker in strips 
 starting at the collar ; rub out the seat of his breeches, 
 and any other suitable places such as elbows, knees, 
 etc. Shout in his ear for eighteen days and nights, 
 starving him as much as possible, and threatening his 
 life at frequent intervals; finally, bounce him, stamp 
 on his feet, hold him under an ice-water tank with a 
 2-inch hole in the bottom; multiply him by 170, in- 
 vest him with 100 "have-been" horses dragging car- 
 riages which have also been submitted to a parallel 
 treatment and have been hung all over with German 
 guns, helmets, gas-masks, bayonets, junk of every 
 kind — and that is our Battery as we rumbled through 
 Fere-en-Tardenois in the rain. 
 
 Everyone was numb with cold when we got to the 
 outskirts of Beuvardes at 3 A. M. We rubbed and 
 fed the horses, parked the carriages under trees, and 
 individually rigged up such shelter tents as we could 
 in the rain, where we reclined on the "damp ground" 
 (it gets monotonous to say mud so often.) At noon 
 there was something in the way of mess. At 5 P. M. 
 we were pursuing our way, the rain, of course, com- 
 ing right along with us. 
 
 All that night the Battery jolted and strained and 
 lurched along finally passing through Chateau- 
 Thierry's rubbish-bestrewn streets, and reaching its 
 suburb, Essomes, at about 5 o'clock on the morning 
 
A REAL REST 143 
 
 of August 6. Here the Battery was established in 
 houses overlooking a spacious courtyard. By candle- 
 light we could see that the houses were in the greatest 
 confusion; furniture overturned, bed linen and clothes 
 dragged across the floor, and windows smashed; but 
 it was not until the sun rose and presided over a good 
 breakfast in the courtyard, that we really had time 
 to explore. 
 
 Except for isolated chateaux, these were the first 
 luxurious city houses we had seen after the passage 
 of the Hun. Besides the crushing destruction of ar- 
 tillery fire, these houses had been systematically 
 ruined with a petty spitefulness and meaness of spirit 
 which showed in children's dolls and playthings de- 
 liberately broken or ground under muddy heels, bil- 
 liard tables with the slates cracked, silk curtains 
 dragged down and polluted, and ladies' writing desks 
 hacked open and private papers scattered over the 
 floor. We became so inflamed at the wantonness and 
 bestiality and black cowardice of this dastard race, 
 that we wanted to turn around and go back again 
 to his line of smoking villages ! 
 
 The Battery spent a comfortable night in Essomes 
 and got up refreshed on the morning of August 7. 
 After breakfast we set oflf in Regimental column 
 down the beautiful Marne valley. The luxury of 
 traveling by daylight with full stomachs and dry 
 clothes was almost overpowering. Under the warm 
 sun we wound along through Aulnois, Azy, Bouneil, 
 Chery, Charly, Nanteuil, and arrived about 3 in the 
 afternoon at Mery-sur-Marne, where we were to stay 
 for a full week. 
 
144 BATTERY A 
 
 Mery was inhabited, but for days the people had 
 been packed up, fearfully waiting for the word of 
 alarm. For the most part our men lived in hay lofts 
 and hired rooms, but a few of the drivers preferred 
 to enjoy the perfect weather in pup-tents near the 
 horse-lines overlooking the Marne. We were able to 
 buy chocolate, cheese, fruit, biscuits, and wine across 
 the river at Saacy. The days were spent grooming 
 the horses, swimming in the river, writing letters, 
 or pla3nng ball. In the evenings, the Regimental band 
 would give a concert in the village square to the de- 
 light of the villagers. The men of the Regiment 
 openly expressed no liking for the concerts, but they 
 always seemed to be drawn to the square at the first 
 notes of a catchy dance tune or a swinging march. 
 The effect of music on the morale of troops has long 
 been appreciated. 
 
 During our stay at Mery, many of us had a chance 
 for the first time to think quietly, and in a way for- 
 mulate the strange new thoughts which had been 
 seething in our tired brains. The Chateau-Thierry 
 Drive, The Great July Offensive, — those names and 
 others still more high-sounding were perhaps printed 
 in huge type across the front page of newspapers at 
 home, and the funny part of it was that it referred 
 to us and what we had been doing for the past eight- 
 een days — Last Tuesday, — when it rained so hard, 
 — or Friday night (when Fred's horse fell down and 
 broke the pole, you know,) — it was really History, 
 the turning point of the most stupendous war the 
 world has ever known — and here we were kicking at 
 beans five times in a row! What should our attitude 
 
A REAL REST 145 
 
 be towards the war? What sort of stuff were we ex- 
 pected to write in our letters home? Had we, as a 
 class, any thoughts at all, or were we really living 
 from meal to meal like animals? What had this 
 great effort taught us anyway? 
 
 The answers were different; but one thing seemed 
 plain. We had all found an implacable dislike, or 
 prejudice perhaps, for the Germans. Not a reasonable 
 abhorance of the military caste, or a logical distrust 
 of the government, or disgust at the national ideal. — 
 but an unreasoning, instinctive hatred of everything 
 Boche. Also we had revised our idea of an offensive, 
 and decided that, with all its disadvantages it had its 
 good points, an admission never found in the best- 
 seller versions of warfare. In a quiet sector, life is 
 fairly comfortable, with deep dugouts, trenches, and 
 all that, — but you get stale. There is a nervous 
 strain and various other unpleasantnesses, yet no re- 
 sults are ever apparent. You simply get stale. It 
 begins to look like an endless job. — But in a drive it's 
 different! You can see the results of your work. 
 When you go into action over dead Boche horses 
 which are still warm, you realize that you are advanc- 
 ing. You are doing what you enlisted to do, and 
 doing it hard. There is a chance for the enthusiasm 
 and dash of other wars — so hopelessly lost in the 
 deadlock of trench warfare. The roads teeming with 
 armed men, columns of artillery stretching for miles, 
 fields alive with troops infected with the spirit of the 
 advance, prisoners streaming back, great panoramas 
 of open country, changing scenes, excitements, quick 
 alarms; all these jumbled together produce a state 
 
146 BATTERY A 
 
 of mind as old as mankind, — the lust of battle — and 
 carry men through hardships which under different 
 conditions they could never stand. 
 
 During the week we received a few pairs of 
 new horses, got new clothes, and drew 200 rounds 
 of ammunition in compliance with a new general or- 
 der for Artillery on the march. On August 15 the 
 Battery hiked to the railroad at La Ferte-sous- 
 Jouarre and entrained. The train followed the Marne 
 through Epernay, Chalons, Dormans, — all names we 
 had heard before. Signs were not lacking of the re- 
 cent fighting; pontoon bridges, which had been caught 
 under artillery fire, equipment, ruins, and wooden 
 crosses; but for the most part we kept our eyes in- 
 side the car. We had had enough of horrors, and 
 longed for some place that was not smashed, where 
 trees were green, and people smiled. 
 
 At 4,30 P. M. the next day the train reached Bar- 
 sur-Seine. The heat was extreme, which was sur- 
 prising as the nights were very cold. It was during 
 our 21 kilometer march from Bar-sur-Seine to the vil- 
 lage of Gommeville that we were given the first real 
 welcome we had received from the French. Always 
 they had been mildly curious, but here the news 
 seemed to have preceded us that we had just come 
 from the famous fight that turned the tide at Chateau 
 Thierry, and to these peasants we were as much he- 
 roes as their own brave poilus. Through every vil- 
 lage the children came out to greet us, running along 
 beside the horses and reaching up small hands to 
 touch ours. Mothers holding babies in their arms 
 smiled a welcome from their doorways, and the pretty 
 
A REAL REST 147 
 
 girls came running with bunches of wild flowers for 
 us to wear in our helmets. It was a new experience 
 and we were delighted. At 10 P. M. we passed 
 through Mussy, and reached Gommeville, three kilo- 
 meters beyond, where we pitched pup-tents in a field 
 by the light of a full moon. 
 
 The next morning was the first of the fourteen 
 pleasant days we were to spend at Gommeville. As 
 for its description, it may have been a very ordinary 
 village — even ugly — but the people were kind, the 
 sun was bright, and the Seine was cool; for us it was 
 Paradise. Some budding Battery genius in a letter 
 home accomplished a description that is almost a 
 classic of flamboyancy, but which leaves a rather ac- 
 curate impression: 
 
 "Picture a low amphitheatre of hills sloping 
 sweetly to a sun-parched field of stubble. Although 
 you do not look attentively at these upland vineyards 
 and meadows, yet you reap from them a sense of rich 
 plenty * * * The meadow it is that takes your eye; 
 for straight across its yellow expanse is stretched a 
 double line of guns, caissons, wagons, and horses ; and 
 beyond them is the Seine. Not the majestic Seine of 
 the city bridges this, but a slow, weedy stream, shaded 
 by beech and willow. Along its banks the grass is 
 fresh and green, — a fit carpet for the row of small 
 brown tents which toe an imaginery mark in mock 
 dignity. And over all comes a wayward breeze in- 
 quisitively idling down from the hills only to scurry 
 in panic across the hot meadow and cool its scorched 
 wings in the deep shadows of the Seine." 
 
 At Gommeville the Battery led a healthy, normal 
 
148 BATTERY A 
 
 life, building up the bodies and spirits of men and 
 animals alike. There was grooming, equitation, 
 mounted drill, foot drill, gun drill, telephone, signal 
 and instrument practice, and problems in reconnais- 
 sance. A school was established in the village school- 
 house where lectures were given on the different 
 specialists' work. For one day the Battery took part 
 in maneuvers for instruction in cooperation with 
 aeroplanes. Frequent after-supper strolls were taken 
 to Mussy, which was a fairly large town. In short, 
 our lives, before so haphazard and unregulated, were 
 shaken down into a beneficial routine. 
 
 Our happiness was complete when leaves of ab- 
 sence of seven days were granted to the first 
 ten per cent, of the Battery. The lucky men bor- 
 rowed ''doggie" clothes from their friends and pre- 
 pared to start for a week's fun. On August 27 an or- 
 der came! "All leaves are cancelled: be ready to 
 move without warning." At 6 P. M. August 30 the 
 river mist from the Seine rolled in whisps over the 
 deserted picket line and camp site, while the Battery 
 moved with a mechanical pace through Pothieres and 
 Bouix, to Poincon, where it entrained again for the 
 front. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 
 
 AUGUST 31, at 2.30 in the afternoon the train 
 pulled by the Nancois-Tronville station and 
 backed up to the ramp, where the work of detraining 
 was begun. 
 
 On account of the great length of this ramp, it was 
 possible to unload both horses and rolling stock at the 
 same time. Each man knew his job thoroughly 
 and set about doing it in the quickest possible v/ay, 
 the drivers and individually mounted men unloading 
 the horse-cars while the cannoneers detrained the 
 carriages. 
 
 As soon as a section was assembled on the ramp, 
 horses were harnessed and hitched, and in about fortv 
 minutes the entire Battery was ready to move for- 
 ward behind the scout who had found time to deter- 
 mine the first part of the route and return to the train 
 while the Battery was unloading. 
 
 After a seven kilometer march we arrived at Tan- 
 nois, a small village already occupied by the 101st 
 Trench Mortar Battery. We pulled through the 
 town to a valley beyond, and parked our guns and 
 caissons in an orchard at the foot of a steep, grassy 
 slope. 
 
 We had orders to avoid any movement or display 
 which might betray our presence in this sector. The 
 horses were accordingly tied in small groups to cais- 
 sons under the trees and the heavy wagons were 
 camouflaged with bushes. Horses were watered and 
 
150 BATTERY A 
 
 fed, a fire started in the rolling kitchen, and hot cof- 
 fee, hard-tack and canned willie were shortly availa- 
 ble. With an eye rather to visibility than comfort, the 
 steep slope, w^hich happened to be w^ell protected by 
 small trees, was chosen as a sleeping place for the 
 men. There seemed to be some question as to whether 
 it was preferable to pitch the pup-tents broadside to 
 the slope, in which case an unguarded, sleepy turn 
 would not only down one's own tent, but would have 
 the effect of a landslide, demolishing all below it; or 
 in line with the slope, which would certainly mean a 
 night spent in slipping out from under one's tent, feet 
 first and retrieving the lost ground by painful twists 
 and squirms. The latter method won the popular 
 favor. Some of the more careful, dug water-trenches 
 around their tents and even went so far as to try to 
 level ofif the floor; others were too tired to bother. 
 
 Of course the use of lights was forbidden; blan- 
 kets were unrolled in the dark, and to make matters 
 worse, it started to rain. The water poured down 
 the hillside and through the tents; the men who had 
 not dug water trenches had to turn out now and do 
 their best to avert complete disaster. On the whole, 
 the night was not a success. 
 
 The next day was spent in drying wet blankets and 
 clothing, grooming horses, and seeing the town, which 
 proved very much of a *'dud". It was soon discovered 
 that the horses had eaten the caisson boxes during 
 the night. These boxes had been built out of green 
 wood at the start of the trip, and were used to carry 
 extra equipment on top of the caisson chests. The 
 boxes were repaired with difficulty and care taken 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 151 
 
 to keep them out of reach of hungry horses* teeth. 
 
 Late in the afternoon we were told to be ready to 
 move that night. Tents were struck, saddle-bags and 
 haversacks packed, and all put in order to leave at the 
 first sign of darkness. 
 
 After an all-night march through many small vil- 
 lages over good roads, we arrived, just as it was 
 growing light, at a group of woods near Longchamps. 
 Here again all carriages were camouflaged under 
 thick trees. Horses were fed and rubbed down. 
 Mess-call soon sounded, like "a good deed in a 
 naughty world", and the men fell in for breakfast; 
 then rolled up in their blankets to make up a little 
 lost sleep. With the exception of watering horses 
 and eating two more meals, nothing else was done 
 all day. 
 
 At dusk the Battery started out on another all- 
 night hike, which abounded in tiresome halts, for the 
 entire Regiment was in the column of march. Toward 
 morning we passed a lighted sign reading "VER- 
 DUN" : every man in the Regiment saw that sign, — 
 and wondered. 
 
 We, however, turned off to the left, following a 
 side road for some four kilometers, and halted at a 
 wood. Word was passed along the column that we 
 had arrived. As we moved again, a hill was seen on 
 the right, and the drivers were told to be ready for a 
 hard pull. We turned up a steep road into more 
 woods, and finally, after much pulling and pushing by 
 the horses and the cannoneers, we came into a small 
 clearing at the top. It was still quite dark under the 
 heavy foliage, but there was light enough in the open 
 
152 BATTERY A 
 
 to park the carriages and stretch a picket line. Pup- 
 tents were pitched in the edge of the woods, and the 
 horses watered at the foot of a road leading from 
 Anglemont Farm, a clump of ruined buildings nearby. 
 In view of the dense overhead cover of branches and 
 the cold, it was judged safe and desirable to light 
 small fires. 
 
 As no orders had been received to move forward, 
 the next two days were spent in resting and getting 
 the horses in the best possible condition. Some 
 amusement was afforded by a nearby aviation field. 
 The following night our little fires were discontinued 
 for the benefit of lowflying Boche planes, which were 
 observed over our woods during the day. Five days 
 had now gone by since we detrained on August 31. 
 On September 4th we were once more ordered to be 
 ready to move. 
 
 The Regiment packed up and started late in the 
 afternoon on still another all-night affair. This time 
 our destination was an echelon north of Rupt-en- 
 Woevre. During the frequent halts, the drivers and 
 single-mounted men dismounted to rest their horses, 
 and it was not uncommon to see one with his arm 
 through his bridle rein stretched out on a pile of 
 broken rock by the roadside fast asleep in spite of 
 the penetrating cold. 
 
 By early morning light, we reached Rupt. The 
 roads were crowded with batteries going and com- 
 ing, and in the confusion our first platoon took the 
 wrong road, which led them directly under German 
 observation, but the mistake was quickly discovered 
 and rectified at only the cost of a nervous half-hour. 
 
ONE OF OUR MEN STANDING IN THE RUINS OF A GERMAN 
 TRENCH IN THE ST. MIHIEL ATTACK 
 
 OUR HOMES DURING THE REST PERIOD AT GOMMEVILLE. THE SEINE RIVER FLOWED 
 UNDER THE SHADE OF THE TREES IN THE BACKGROUND 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 153 
 
 The main road took us to the left through a deep val- 
 ley, up a very steep muddy hill to an echelon in fhe 
 viToods. This echelon consisted of one large v\^ooden 
 barrack, which accounted for over half the Battery, 
 and a few old shacks. In spite of their usual early 
 morning exhaustion, the drivers watered their horses 
 at the town of Rupt, about one kilometer away, be- 
 fore they gave up the hopeless struggle against leaden 
 eyelids. 
 
 This daily trip to the muddy little river in Rupt 
 was not always without excitement, for every few 
 days the town was bombed by enemy planes. Only 
 once during our trips there, however, did we have to 
 take cover, and then the Hun was out for larger game 
 and did not bother us in the least. The life in the 
 Rupt echelon was quiet and uneventful for the men, 
 but we were kept in anticipation of a nightly move by 
 the fact that Lt. MacNamee with a small detail was 
 engaged in reconnoitering the lines for our probable 
 positions. Each added night's rest seemed a special 
 heaven-sent gift which we could not understand but 
 for which we were duly thankful. 
 
 At last, on the night of September 7, all nine cais- 
 sons were sent to Genicourt for ammunition, and on 
 the following night we received orders to report in 
 regimental column in the woods, facing north. Thus 
 began a very painful experience. 
 
 From the start things were unpropitious. The 
 night could not have been darker, and an unfriendly 
 sky alternated between a steady downpour of rain and 
 unrestrained, solid torrents. The condition of the 
 woodroads can be better imagined than described. It 
 
154 BATTERY A 
 
 must be remembered, though, that after our many- 
 like encounters, no one entertained any illusions con- 
 cerning our outlook. After jolting through the cob- 
 bled streets of Rupt, the Regiment headed up a valley- 
 road which led perhaps a kilometer through the open. 
 Here the wet road underfoot showed a shade lighter 
 than the surrounding, opaque sheets of rain. At the 
 head of this valley the road suddenly shrank to the 
 width of one pair of carriage wheels, and disappeared 
 entirely in the edge of a wood so heavy that the trees 
 interlacing overhead made it necessary for the drivers 
 to bend forward to remain in the saddle. Within the 
 wood, the road climbed upward at an impossible an- 
 gle, flanked on either side by slippery three-foot 
 banks. The entire Regiment was confronted with the 
 problem of climbing this muddy tunnel — all, that is, 
 except the heavy wagons, which remained hidden in 
 the edge of the woods. The whole Regiment waited 
 in the rain while each battery in succession struggled 
 with this atrocious half mile. For most of us it was 
 a kaleidoscopic nightmare of mired horses, tangled 
 harness, broken poles, overturned caissons, darkness, 
 rain, cold, mud, slipping, swearing, pushing, straining, 
 but, most of all, standing still and freezing, hour after 
 hour, waiting for the battery ahead to pull through. 
 One of our cannoneers slipped under a gun-carriage 
 which ran over his ankle and crushed the bone. It 
 was a miracle that more of us were not hurt. At last, 
 in the early morning when it was already light, our 
 Battery gained the top of the hill, where the trees 
 grew thinner, and turned sharply to the right. A 
 short hundred yards brought us to an old French posi- 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 155 
 
 tion some 2500 yards behind the front line trenches. 
 It was a great relief to the cannoneers not to have to 
 stretch their camouflage nets, — always an irritating 
 job, and particularly after a hard night when every- 
 one's patience is finished. 
 
 The position seemed very strong. Little work 
 was required to adapt the gun-pits to our needs. We 
 found that C Company of the 101st Infantry was oc- 
 cupying the dugouts until it should have orders to 
 move down to its jumping-off trenches, but the ex- 
 traordinary "entente cordiale" which existed between 
 our Regiment and the 101st Infantry since a certain 
 barrage on the Chemin des Dames not only averted 
 any unpleasantness but actually turned the accident 
 into a social occasion which was enjoyed by all of us. 
 We crowded into the dugouts, played cards, '^chewed 
 the rag" and in fact became the best of friends. Since 
 the dugouts fell short of housing us all, however 
 closely we crowded, the greater part of the Battery 
 found sheltered places, — old ammunition pits, or 
 trenches roofed with corrugated iron — where they 
 could spread their blankets out of the rain, and curl 
 up for a little well-earned rest. Many of the cannon- 
 eers stretched out in the gun-pits and slept soundly. 
 
 As it was growing lighter and lighter, and the ele- 
 ment of surprise was to figure largely in this attack, 
 the horses and empty caissons were hurried back to 
 the place where the heavy wagons had been left the 
 night before. Here an echelon was established on 
 the wooded slopes of a narrow valley. The men lived 
 in small, wooden shacks, the horse-lines were in the 
 woods close by, and the limbers and caissons were 
 
156 BATTERY A 
 
 parked under a row of trees. The kitchen was estab- 
 lished here and cooked for both drivers and cannon- 
 eers, the food being- sent up to the guns on a limber. 
 It was thought indiscreet to risk any smoke at the 
 guns which might betray their presence. 
 
 The heavy rain continued the next few days, but 
 luckily there was not much to do at the gun position. 
 There was some pick and shovel work to be done in 
 the gun-pits, a great deal of ammunition to be sorted 
 and cleaned, and most of all, improvements to be made 
 on individual sleeping quarters, for we had learned 
 that it pays to be comfortable even for the shortest 
 time. The drivers were kept busy after dark hauling 
 ammunition from the dump to the guns. The combi- 
 nation of continued rain with its bad effect on the ap- 
 proach to the position, and the steady night driving, 
 began to tell on the strength of both horses and men. 
 On the night of September 11, instead of drawing 
 shells at the dump, the drivers were met on the road 
 by trucks from the 101st Ammunition Train, and 
 loaded their caissons directly from them; after this 
 they started for the guns by a new route that led 
 them past several batteries of French heavies. This 
 road was also very narrow, and the fourth section 
 caisson in turning out for a French fourgon went over 
 the side of a bridge and dropped some eight feet, land- 
 ing up-side-down. Strangely enough, neither horses 
 nor men were hurt, and the trip was resumed. 
 
 At the position, the men were becoming impatient 
 for the "show" to begin. The rain, poor quarters, and 
 the appalling infrequency of meals were beginning- 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 157 
 
 to work their spell on the cannoneers, and the "rack- 
 et" could not start too soon to suit them. 
 
 About five o'clock on the afternoon of September 
 12, C Company of the 101st Infantry received orders 
 to get ready with fighting equipment and go down 
 after dark to the jumping-off trench. Their prepara- 
 tions were carried out with the quiet assurance of 
 veterans to whom going over the top in a bloody bat- 
 tle was as commonplace as going down town on the 
 street car to work. We artillerymen were amazed at 
 their perfect sang-froid and indifference on the eve 
 of what everyone expected to be the fastest American 
 offensive of the war. They filed past the ammuni- 
 tion sergeant, who issued to each man his share of 
 light and heavy hand grenades, incendiary bombs, 
 rifle grenades, flares, Very lights, etc., which were 
 carelessly stuffed into overcoat pockets and distrib- 
 uted about the person like so many green apples. The 
 doughboys hated to swap our comfortable dugouts 
 for the front line. They were no recruits; they were 
 men who knew what a "big push" meant for the in- 
 fantry. And these men were ready to go into St. 
 Mihiel with all the dash, with all the tenacity that 
 had characterized their work at Chateau Thierry. 
 They filed away down a trench like silent shadows in 
 the darkness. 
 
 In the meantime the Battery had received firing 
 ortlers for 1 A. M. Everything was put in shape for 
 a long grind. Fuses were laid out ready to hand, ro- 
 tating bands were greased, buckets of water were 
 placed near-by to cool the guns, and the mechanics in- 
 spected and oiled the pieces so that everything should 
 
158 BATTERY A 
 
 go smoothly. Most of the sergeants arranged to have 
 only four of each gun crew start the firing, the others 
 being allowed to sleep through until a relief was 
 needed. This proved a wise scheme for we fired 
 steadily until noon the next day. 
 
 Promptly at 1 A. M. the artillery preparation 
 started. Hundreds of guns of all calibers gave voice 
 from their places of concealment as if at a single com- 
 mand, as indeed it was, — the tick of a second-hand on 
 a hundred synchronized watches. Until eight in the 
 morning the Battery fired steadily on portions of a 
 Boche trench to prepare the way for our doughboys, 
 waiting to start. Eight o'clock was "zero hour", and 
 at that time all the artillery except those heavies 
 which were pounding the Boche rear areas started 
 on the long rolling barrage, which preceded the In- 
 fantry step by step southeast along the "Grande 
 Tranchee de Calonne." This progressive barrage 
 stopped at 11 :46 A. M., but the pounding of the rear 
 areas went on. The Battery had fired over 2241 
 rounds in eleven hours steady firing. There was prac- 
 tically no return fire from the enemy. 
 
 The men of the firing battery cleaned the guns, 
 put the pits in order, and set a vigilant guard to give 
 warning of any reverse which would require the re- 
 sumption of fire, while the rest turned in. It is al- 
 ways the rule in a drive to consider no chance to 
 sleep too short, for no distinction is made between 
 night and day except perhaps added vigilance and 
 greater activity at night. 
 
 The drivers, in accordance with this rule, had been 
 making the most of their inactivity during the firing, 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 159 
 
 but now, barring a reverse, it was their move. A re- 
 port came back that the Boche were in full retreat 
 with our infantry at his heels. In the afternoon the 
 combat train received orders to move up behind the 
 guns so that the Battery could start at a moment's 
 notice. On account of the constant rains and heavy 
 teaming, the road up from the valley was in even 
 worse condition than it was the first night. To get 
 up the hill at all the horses had to be driven to the 
 very limit of their endurance for they were com- 
 pletely fagged from over-work and under-feeding. 
 Finally, a point about a hundred yards in rear of the 
 guns was reached, and the horses picketed with the 
 carriages under the trees. The drivers pitched pup- 
 tents on the soggy ground and turned in for what 
 sleep they could get. After two hours they were or- 
 dered to harness and hitch; tents were struck, equip- 
 ment rolled, and the poor horses dragged to their feet 
 and harnessed. 
 
 Our trip forward was a memorable one. In the 
 first place, the difficulty of getting started was great. 
 The horses could hardly stand on their feet, let alone 
 negotiate the heavy going which confronted us. Our 
 orders were to move forward at midnight, but the en- 
 tire night was spent in forcing the carriages through 
 the mud to the solid road. It was not until after day- 
 light that the Battery really got started, with all 
 hands three quarters asleep. The terrain was a reve- 
 lation of the terrific destructive power of our artil- 
 lery. At the time it seemed to us that we had de- 
 stroyed the roads a bit too completely for our own 
 good, but the engineers were working like beavers, 
 
160 BATTERY A 
 
 filling shellholes with old wagons, dead horses, and 
 any rubbish that came to hand. Of course this re- 
 pairing occasioned the column long halts, which af- 
 forded to anyone who could keep his eyes open a per- 
 fect chance to see the surroundings. We were ap- 
 proaching the Grande Tranchee de Calonne from a 
 side road which was jammed with troops, mostly in- 
 fantry kitchens and artillery. On all sides was a typi- 
 cal old-fashioned trench-warfare no-man's land, with 
 pill boxes, intricate systems of wires and trenches, 
 boyaux, listening posts and all, now a complete mess 
 from last night's pounding. At last, after an inter- 
 minable wait the column got under way. Every- 
 where were signs of the greatest confusion. The 
 dead were being buried as fast as possible, extra 
 clothing and equipment thrown away by the dough- 
 boys in yesterday's fight were being piled by the road- 
 side. Farther along we passed many little shacks and 
 dugouts, comfortably furnished with stuff stolen from 
 the nearby French towns, built by the Germans in 
 readiness for the coming winter. 
 
 Once on the Grande Tranchee, a one-time "Route 
 Nationale", the going was much better. We began to 
 pass great batches of Hun prisoners, with many Aus- 
 trians among them, going to the rear, sometimes 
 three or four hundred under the guard of two dough- 
 boys. We also passed a great number of captured 
 auto-trucks, and in fact, booty of all kinds. In many 
 places we found meals half eaten, letters and papers 
 hurriedly left, and in one stable, six horses dead in 
 their stalls, each one shot neatly through the head, — 
 all attesting to the haste of the German retreat. Here 
 

 
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THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 161 
 
 the road was lined with machine-gun positions, many 
 with the Boche machine gunners lying dead where 
 they had fallen. One truck had been the scene of a 
 desperate struggle between its Hun drivers who lay 
 in grotesque positions both in the truck and under- 
 neath it, and the victorious Americans. As our ad- 
 vance was so rapid into the enemy's country, the 
 Battery was assigned a guard of eight men from F 
 Company of the 101st Infantry. German prisoners 
 by hundreds kept streaming past, a great many car- 
 rying other wounded Huns in stretchers on their 
 shoulders. One group of Huns had loaded an old 
 French buggy with their wounded, and were drag- 
 ging it along the road into captivity. At one place we 
 saw a Boche tank, heavy and square and awkward, 
 which had been caught under our artillery fire and 
 smashed. 
 
 The Regiment pushed forward to within a half- 
 mile of Hattonchatel where the guns went into posi- 
 tion under camouflage nets in a field, ready to fire at a 
 word from the pursuing Infantry, while the horses, 
 limbers, caissons and wagons were parked in the 
 woods not far away. We were on a sort of hog-back 
 ridge, of which Hattonchatel formed the nose. Below 
 us in three directions lay the plain of the Woevre; the 
 north and northeast were alight with burning vil- 
 lages whose smoke stained the whole sky; to the 
 southeast was our old enemy, Montsec, seen from a 
 new angle. It gave us a feeling of pleasure to see this 
 old hill which had dominated us in the Toul sector, 
 now so harmless in our hands. There was a rumor 
 that a battalion of Boches was cut off in the caves 
 
162 BATTERY A 
 
 and tunnels with which the place abounded. At Hat- 
 tonchatel itself and at VigneuUes, another nearby- 
 town, the Boche had abandoned whole storehouses of 
 clothing, arms and equipment. So fast had our in- 
 fantry penetrated the German lines, that a Boche 
 soup-gun driver, not knowing that the town was in 
 American hands, brought his load of steaming hot 
 supper into VigneuUes and experienced some difficulty 
 in finding Germans to eat it. Our doughboys, how- 
 ever, were very appreciative. 
 
 Watering the horses was a serious problem, which 
 was finally solved by sending them to Billy-sous-les- 
 Cotes, about five kilometers away. As it happened 
 though, it worked to our advantage, for a warehouse 
 was discovered at Billy from which we took not only 
 a large amount of food for the men and horses, but 
 also a beautiful, light, German wagon to haul them 
 in. Trips were also made to other Boche towns like 
 St. Maurice, and salvage of all kinds was found, from 
 live rabbits to buckets of honey, and pianos. At St. 
 Maurice, drawn up on the loading ramp, there were 
 four heavy guns which the Germans had been too 
 rushed to carry away. There were several breweries, 
 but the infantry had done for them, alas. 
 
 The next day, September 14, instead of going 
 ahead through Hattonchatel and down on the plain 
 as we had expected, we went back over the Grande 
 Tranchee. About noon we pulled off the main road 
 into the woods to the right, halting by a German en- 
 gineer dump, and mess was served from the rolling 
 kitchen. At this meal a new dish was introduced which 
 stood us in good stead for many weeks. It was canned 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 163 
 
 corned beef dipped in a batter of flour and water and 
 fried in bacon fat. It was called "Camouflaged Willy". 
 As we were enjoying this meal, a battalion of 
 doughboys passed us coming out of the lines. They 
 gave us some German hard-tack which is quite dif- 
 ferent from ours, as it comes in a little white, cloth 
 bag, and is about the size of oyster crackers, and 
 sweetish. The doughboys were elated at their com- 
 plete success, and exhibited many "souvenirs" they 
 had taken. 
 
 After a halt of two hours, we moved forward 
 through the woods to the "Pioneerweg au Longeau". 
 A position was established in the open about a mile 
 south of Longeau Ferme. The cannoneers worked 
 hard making gun-pits and erecting shelters, but once 
 that was done, the life was an easy one, for the Bat- 
 tery was not called on to fire except in an emergency, 
 as the Boche lines were far out on the plain below. 
 As our own rations were very low at this time, good 
 use was made of the captured bean-soup and salt fish. 
 We also used a large amount of the forage taken 
 from Billy in getting our horses back into condition. 
 
 We had just settled down to be comfortable in 
 this place, when on September 16 we were ordered to 
 relieve D Battery of the 102nd F. A. north of Dom- 
 martin. Their position proved to be also on the plat- 
 eau overlooking the plain, but it was nearer to the 
 German lines. The guns were established in the open, 
 and the echelon was in the woods within a hundred 
 yards of them. In this echelon use was made of sev- 
 eral old German dugouts and ammunition houses 
 built of concrete slabs. During the three days the 
 
164 BATTERY A 
 
 guns were in this position, they did not fire; they were 
 too far back to be of any use except in a Boche at- 
 tack. On the evening of September 19, the guns were 
 moved forward off the plateau to the town of Herbeu- 
 ville on the plain, but the echelon stayed where it 
 was. The road down to Herbeuville from the plateau 
 was a peculiar one. It wound back and forth along 
 the side of the hill, going a mile to get down a fifty 
 foot slope. From the top, the whole length of the 
 road was visible, looking like a snake with sharp 
 bends in him, disappearing into the main street of 
 Herbeuville, a ruined town, and emerging much thin- 
 ner on the farther side of the town to run straight 
 as a string to Wadonville and Saulx far out on the 
 plain. The Battery navigated this twisty road with 
 safety, and landed the four guns and ammunition in 
 Herbeuville about midnight. 
 
 Fortunately the rain of the early evening had 
 stopped, and no great discomfort was experienced 
 during the rather prolonged business of getting the 
 guns into position with their ammunition, and set- 
 ting up the necessary camouflage. There were obsta- 
 cles to be overcome, such as heavy tangles of barbed 
 wire, bushes, and shell holes, made more serious by 
 the fact that no light could be struck; consequently, 
 no one had any idea of what his surrounding really 
 looked like. But the work was done in the quiet, ef- 
 ficient manner which Lt. MacNamee's supervision al- 
 ways insured, and by three o'clock all the guns were 
 in position, and the men scattered to look for shel- 
 tered sleeping places. 
 
 The next morning we were able to satisfy our cu- 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 165 
 
 riosity as to what kind of a place we had landed in. 
 The first thing we noticed was that we were in plain 
 sight of the German lines, where pale blue "wursts", 
 or observation balloons, hung in a graceful curve 
 seemingly almost within rifle-range. At first it was 
 highly irritating to think that every slightest act of 
 ours was submitted to the hostile scrutiny of these 
 pale blue eyes on their slender stalks, but we got used 
 to it and soon forgot it. Herbeuville was an area of 
 stone ruins about 200 yards square, lying, with many 
 other villages now destroyed, under the shadow of a 
 steep hill leading up to a plateau on which were the 
 heights of the Woevre. Like other towns it had its 
 main street, its little square with a few shade trees, 
 its church whose tower, by some freak of fate, was 
 still standing, though the roof and walls had fallen 
 in across the altar and piled the flagged floor high 
 with rubbish. It also had its little red-roofed rail- 
 road station, now a machine-gun strong point, some 
 300 yards from the edge of the town. Our four guns 
 were cleverly concealed under apple trees, hedges, 
 and behind tumbled-down garden walls, which also 
 afforded some protection to the cannoneers. This 
 was on the very edge of the town. From our gun-pits 
 we could look out towards the Boche lines over a flat, 
 green plain ending twenty kilometers away in the 
 rolling country around Conflans and Briey. From 
 Herbeuville the road ran two kilometers straight out 
 to a mangled little heap of ruins which seemed to be 
 smoking from a continuous bombardment — ^Wadon- 
 ville. To the right a poplar-lined road led to Hannon- 
 ville, almost as heavily shelled as its neighbor, and 
 
166 BATTERY A 
 
 to the left front was Saulx; all three front line towns 
 held by our Infantry. As it was a clear day, we could 
 look far towards the north, and someone discov- 
 ered what looked like factory chimneys stream- 
 ing up black smoke! It seemed unbelievable that 
 such work could be done by the Boche under our 
 very guns, but the explanation was that the Germans 
 were running the coal-mines and munitions plants of 
 Briey and Conflans with Allied prisoners of war, so 
 that we could not fire on them. Beyond our front 
 line towns were the German front line towns; Ria- 
 ville, Marcheville, and St. Hilaire. On the hillside 
 behind us and also on the plain were battered vine- 
 yards, with the grapes beginning to ripen. 
 
 The next few days everything went smoothly. 
 There was plenty of work to do fixing up old cellars 
 for cellar quarters, building protection for the gun- 
 crews, and establishing a reserve of ammunition. The 
 2nd Platoon guns remained in their orchard where 
 they were first established, but the 1st Platoon moved 
 its guns to the far edge of the town where more pro- 
 tection and a wider field of fire could be obtained. 
 The kitchen was in a shed whose roof had seen better 
 days, but which still was more useful than none. Lt. 
 MacNamee's "Command Post" was near the 1st Pla- 
 toon in a reinforced cellar. The Boche had left a 
 well-stocked lumberyard which we put to good use 
 reinforcing cellars and building bunks, trail-logs, and 
 other things. 
 
 Life for the firing battery at Herbeuville was 
 very pleasant. For the most part, the men worked 
 at night and kept out of sight during the day. 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 167 
 
 The drivers continued at the echelon up on the 
 plateau. The daily life consisted of a morning and 
 afternoon grooming period after which the horses 
 were ridden bareback down the valley to the town 
 of Dommartin to the only water available. Beyond 
 this, little was done during the daylight hours. It 
 was at night that the line of loaded caissons worked 
 its way down the twisting road into Herbeuville. The 
 road was frequently under fire and in spots offered 
 treacherous footing, but all trips were made with 
 safety. 
 
 The echelon had the bad luck to have an active 
 battery of the 103rd Artillery back of it, and almost 
 every night the Boche, in trying to put them out of 
 action, would cause our drivers the greatest incon- 
 venience. The deep dugouts made the men more or 
 less independent of this searching fire, but for the 
 horses there was no protection. One afternoon a shell 
 burst closer than usual, killing one horse and wound- 
 ing another. A splinter from it wounded one of the 
 drivers who was taking a nap in his pup-tent. 
 
 The town of Dommartin sported a Red Cross hut 
 and a delousing machine, or "cootie incubator". The 
 men were sent down from the guns and from the 
 echelon in small groups to be deloused. After their 
 bath, they fell in line at the Red Cross hut, and never 
 came away empty-handed. The popularity of these 
 visits received a death blow when a German 210 mil- 
 limeter H. E. shell landed within a few feet of the 
 cootie machine! 
 
 On the night of September 23 it looked as if the 
 whole Battery might have some fun. A raid was 
 
168 BATTERY A 
 
 planned against St. Hilaire, and the plans called for 
 a schedule of fire which could be executed only from 
 a position far out on the plain between Wadonville 
 and Saulx. When it is remembered that there was 
 practically no front line at this point, but only small 
 patrols between the towns, it will be seen that the 
 proposition of taking position out there promised 
 much in the way of rough and tumble with the in- 
 quisitive Boche patrols. Both drivers and cannon- 
 eers not only cleaned their pistols and borrowed 
 loaded clips from whoever was not going, but in- 
 dulged in a little unauthorized target practice to make 
 sure they worked. By 9 P. M. the guns were snaked 
 out of the pits, limbered, and ready to join the cais- 
 sons on the road. 
 
 The kilometer and a half was accomplished with- 
 out incident. The horses were sent back, camou- 
 flage nets were stretched over the guns and ammuni- 
 tion, and both machine-guns were set up with a wide 
 field of fire to the front. Before 10 o'clock, the 2nd 
 Platoon was firing a short preparation. A green 
 rocket from the Infantry was to be the signal for one 
 prepared barrage. The 2nd Platoon ceased fire, and 
 everyone sat straining their eyes for the green rocket. 
 They sat and sat. Pretty soon it started to rain, and 
 developed into a downpour. Very few of the men 
 had slickers, and before long everybody was wet to 
 the skin. At 2.30 A. M. they were still sitting with 
 their eyes glued on the place the green rocket was 
 supposed to show. Then some of G Company of the 
 102nd Infantry came past and explained that their 
 plan to meet the other detachment approaching the 
 

 
 
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THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 169 
 
 town from a different direction had failed, no barrage 
 had been called for, and the raid was called off. On 
 their way back, however, they had run into a Boche 
 machine-gun nest, and after killing a few of the crew, 
 had succeeded in taking 11 prisoners, — more than 
 they would have taken in the raid. 
 
 Lt. MacNamee telephoned back for the limbers 
 and we were soon retracing our steps to Herbeuville, 
 a very disappointed and "off the army" battery. Ar- 
 riving about 3.30 A. M., the limbers dropped the guns 
 and pulled out just in time to avoid a shelling. 
 
 The Boche either were peeved in general at the 
 night's performance, or had decided to include Her- 
 beuville in their strafing list, because they shelled at 
 frequent intervals during the day and night, mix- 
 ing mustard gas with high explosive. One gas shell 
 landed on the first piece dugout, and made all the 
 men sick, two of them being evacuated. 
 
 As the Boche artillery grew stronger, it was up 
 to us to become more active, but had we fired con- 
 stantly from our Herbeuville position on a clear day 
 we would have been observed, accurately located and 
 destroyed. So each night two guns were pulled out 
 on the plain to act as roving pieces, like the one in 
 the Toul sector, firing rapidly for a short time and 
 then moving, to give the effect of being several ac- 
 tive batteries. Our 2nd and 4th pieces started the 
 game on the night of September 24. Each night the 
 crews were changed, and more ammunition sent out. 
 The food was carried out by two men ; a larger group 
 would have betrayed the hidden guns. The heaviest 
 part of the work during these days and nights fell on 
 
170 BATTERY A 
 
 the telephone men, for the distances were great, wire 
 was pitifully scarce, and the positions kept moving. 
 The lines also ran over ground which was continually 
 under fire, and afforded no shelter to the men repair- 
 ing the wires. 
 
 On September 26, with our 3rd and 4th pieces out 
 on the plain and the 1st and 2nd in Herbeuville, we 
 were notified that we would back up the 102nd Infan- 
 try in an attack on Marcheville and Riaville, which 
 was to act as a diversion for a big attack west of Ver- 
 dun. The idea was to capture the towns, maintain a 
 footing in them all day, and fall back to the old front 
 line under cover of darkness, creating the greatest 
 possible disturbance with the least possible loss. 
 
 The artillery preparation was scheduled to start 
 at 1 A. M,, but our Battery was not to fire until 6.30 
 A. M. We started promptly and fired 55 minutes, 
 then repeated the same barrage. Our Infantry had 
 no sooner started than the Boche laid down a ter- 
 rific defensive fire. At about 10.30 A. M. the report 
 came in that the Infantry had gained their 5 kilo- 
 meter objective with heavy losses. In the course of 
 the day we fired a box barrage around Marcheville 
 four or five times to break up the tremendous Boche 
 counterattacks. The towns changed hands several 
 times, but remained with the 102nd. We fired at in- 
 tervals until 7.15 A. M. It was really direct fire, for 
 we could plainly see the Boche and the white smoke 
 of our shells from our position in Herbeuville. The' 
 wounded doughboys straggled back singly and in 
 small groups, discouraged at the evident uselessness 
 of their attacks, for they had received orders to re- 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 171 
 
 linquish their hard-won 5 kilometers to the Boche. 
 All day long and all that night we heard the heavy, 
 continuous boom of artillery away to our left, and we 
 knew that the big attack near Verdun was on in 
 earnest. ... 
 
 For the next four or five days two guns were kept 
 always under camouflage out on the plain. As it 
 rained and drizzled almost all this time, and the tem- 
 perature dropped to zero, the gun crews, machine- 
 gunners, and telephone men led a miserable life out 
 there. The Boche harassed and pounded Hannon- 
 ville, Herbeuville, Wadonville, Saulx, and behind us 
 on the hill, indiscriminately. A rumor got around 
 that we were to swap positions with B Battery up 
 on the hill near our echelon. 
 
 On the morning of October 2 we fired a box bar- 
 rage of 776 rounds on the Bois de Warville. The In- 
 fantry made their objective without the loss of a 
 mail. Late in the afternoon we received orders to 
 pull back to B Battery's position. 
 
 The trip back was both difficult and dangerous. 
 The Boche, peevish as usual after a setback, were 
 firing heavy shells in a sulky sort of way against the 
 hillside. At the worst place in the road, where there 
 was a shell crater large enough to hold three cais- 
 sons, we met E Battery of the 102nd coming down 
 to Wadonville for a raid. Of course we had trouble 
 in passing. Then we got mixed up with some Ammu- 
 nition Train caissons and also with some B battery 
 carriages coming to occupy our position in Herbeu- 
 ville. At last, around midnight, the Battery reached 
 the B battery position on the crest of the plateau 
 
172 BATTERY A 
 
 just behind a big road hung with rafia screens and 
 called the Ost Tranchee. While the guns were being 
 put in the pits, several shrapnel burst directly over 
 our heads. The balls spattered in the woods behind 
 us, hurting no one, but Lt. MacNamee thought it 
 wiser to take cover in case the range should be de- 
 creased. As it happened he was right. No sooner had 
 the men reached a nearby battery position, than the 
 bursts began to cover the very place we had been 
 working. We stayed in the dugouts until the Boche 
 got tired playing, and then finished the routine work 
 of camouflaging and laying in the guns. The living 
 quarters proved to be tar-paper shacks such as we 
 had in the "swamp position", proof against nothing 
 but light rain. They were, however, taken on trust, 
 and no one suffered for it. 
 
 This was a reserve position, — no firing except in 
 an emergency, and so we lived a pleasant life. In 
 this position our food reached the highest degree of 
 excellence yet attained; sleep was plentiful, telephone 
 lines short. In fact, things were altogether too good! 
 
 Sure enough, on October 5 the blow fell; Captain 
 MacNamee (he had just been promoted) received or- 
 ders to leave the Battery and report as an instructor 
 at Coetquidan. After he had said good-bye and gone 
 away, nobody seemed to have much to say. The life 
 was gone out of the Battery. The command fell on 
 Lt. Storer, who took charge until Captain Hunting- 
 ton should return from Coetquidan. We next heard 
 that we were to be relieved by the 113th F. A. on 
 October 9. 
 
 When the guns had moved back to the Ost Tran- 
 
THE ST. MIHIEL DRIVE 173 
 
 chee on the 2nd, our echelon had also moved back, 
 establishing itself near the town of Dommartin, 
 where the 1st Platoon now went after having been 
 relieved the night of September 9. The next night the 
 2nd Platoon was relieved, and the whole Battery- 
 reassembled and rejoined the Regiment at Rupt-en 
 Woevre after a short march, where they spent the 
 day. In the evening the Regiment harnessed and 
 hitched and took the road. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE VERDUN FRONT 
 
 /^N September 26, 1918 began the Meuse-Argonne 
 ^-^^ drive which was destined to reach Sedan and 
 end the war. It was also destined indirectly to cause 
 the firing-battery of "A" of the 101st F. A. the nas- 
 tiest service it had yet seen. Our division had al- 
 ready made one "diversion", — at Marcheville — for 
 the purpose of drawing German reserves from the 
 Argonne. Now we were to make another for the 
 same purpose. Had we known on October 11 the form 
 that diversion was to take, we might not have pulled 
 out of Rupt-en-Woevre with so light a step. 
 
 However, leaving the future to take care of itself, 
 the Battery ate its bread, ''Willie," and coffee at 5 
 P. M., and by 7.00 was in its place in Regimental col- 
 umn crossing the St. Mihiel — Verdun highway. The 
 night was so dark that each battery had to keep two 
 men riding ahead in contact with the unit in front 
 to give warning of halts and to mark turns, although 
 the distance between units was never more than fifty 
 yards. It was also intensely cold, but to make up for 
 that the road was perfect. 
 
 Of course we did not know our destination, but 
 no one felt happier for seeing the dread word "Ver- 
 dun" painted on signboards along the way. This 
 dread was not an unfounded one as events proved. 
 Towards morning the Battery passed through the 
 edge of Verdun itself. The sky was a shade lighter 
 than the massive, angular walls which towered on 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 175 
 
 either side. For several hours we had been within 
 sound of the guns, but at this point a dozen shells 
 burst at uncomfortable distances from the road. It 
 may have been a coincidence that a truck with head- 
 lights burning in violation of all rules, had just passed 
 that spot. 
 
 A little before daylight, after a hard 40 km. hike, 
 the drivers urged their tired horses up the muddy hill 
 from Baleicourt to the N. W. edge of the Bois Des 
 Sartelles, where the picket line was stretched under 
 the trees. The men turned in without ceremony and 
 slept where they fell, in a dirt-floored wooden Adrian. 
 
 With dawn came a cold drizzle of rain. The un- 
 fortunate drivers dragged themselves out of their 
 blankets to feed and water, while those cannoneers 
 who were not totally dead to the world, chose between 
 blankets and mess. The afternoon and next day, 
 Sunday, being also rainy, were spent in grooming 
 horses and overhauling equipment for another trick 
 in the lines. Monday it rained again, or rather still, 
 for there was a continuous gray drizzle which turned 
 the deep mud in the Bois des Sartelles into a veritable 
 quagmire. In the afternoon the divisional show gave 
 a performance near Baleicourt. As orders to pull up 
 the lines were expected at any minute, the caissons 
 and limbers were loaded with shell. 
 
 Monday evening saw tremendous excitement 
 throughout the Regiment, for there was a newspaper 
 which announced the end of the war. It said the Ger- 
 mans agreed to discuss the "14 points", and the last 
 shot was to be fired at six P. M. that very night. 
 Everyone turned in with a feeling of subdued elation, 
 
176 BATTERY A 
 
 to be wakened by the noise of a particularly violent 
 and prolonged barrage west of the Meuse. . . . 
 
 Tuesday at noon mess the always unpleasant or- 
 der came to "harness and hitch." Shortly after 2 
 P. M. the Regiment wound down the hill out of the 
 woods and took the road towards Verdun. At Charny, 
 a ruined town on the Meuse, the Regiment halted 
 from six to nine for bread and coffee. For us of the 
 firing battery at least, this marked the "end of a per- 
 fect day," and from now on imperfections, beginning 
 with a cold rain, began to come into evidence. 
 
 The park wagons and soup-gun remained behind 
 at Charny, while the pieces and caissons of the First 
 Battalion splashed on in the dark through Bras, Va- 
 cherauville, and Samogneux, turning to the right at 
 last into the Ravin D'Haumont, "Death Valley." In 
 spite of the darkness, it was impossible to mistake the 
 evidences of a tremendous concentration of troops, 
 mostly artillery: — it looked less and less like "peace 
 by arbitration." 
 
 About midnight the Battalion halted, A Bat- 
 tery being in the lead. At this point the road lay 
 through a narrow defile formed by steep slopes on 
 each side. On the right we could feel — for one could 
 not see past the end of his nose — a steep bank some 
 four feet high. Over this bank and somewhere up be- 
 yond lay the A Battery goal. Shovels were brought 
 into action, and while the drivers unloaded their cais- 
 sons beside the road, the cannoneers cut away enough 
 of the bank to permit the passage of the guns. 
 
 Then began the main event of the evening which 
 was to be a nightmare in the memory of everyone 
 
;». 
 
 FIRST VERDUN POSITION CLOSE VIEW OF TELEPHONE DETAIL QUARTERS IN OPEN 
 
 SHELL HOLE WITH CANVAS TO KEEP OFF RAIN, SHELL BURSTING IN THE AIR OVER 
 HAUMONT 
 
 DEATH VALLEY. A BATTERY'S KITCHEN IN SHELL HOLE IN LEFT FOREGROUND 
 HAUMONT LIES ON RIDGE IN THE DISTANCE 
 
 DESTROYED VILLAGE OF 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 177 
 
 concerned. Our course lay for three hundred yards 
 up an impossible slope, made hideous by terraces, 
 shell-holes, darkness and rain. At first with six 
 horses, then eight, ten, twelve and finally with every 
 man in the Battalion straining at the ropes, the first 
 gun was boosted inch by inch up the hill. It was 
 discouraging to contemplate eleven more such bouts, 
 but fortunately B and C Batteries were assigned po- 
 sitions near the foot of the hill, so that we were 
 spared. We, however, tugged away at A Battery's 
 three remaining pieces all the rest of the night. The 
 rain increased, and it grew colder. 
 
 Daylight found us shivering, wet to the skin, half- 
 frozen, plastered with mud, feebly coaxing the last 
 gun into position on the top of the hill. The horses 
 had long since been sent back exhausted. It was at 
 this unenlightened moment that Capt. Huntington 
 rejoined the Battery after his seven months absence 
 at Coetquidan. 
 
 By a miracle the Germans had not fired on us all 
 night, but about seven o'clock in the morning they 
 made up for this negligence. Our three cooks had es- 
 tablished the kitchen near the road, some hundred 
 yards down the hill from the guns. They were peace- 
 fully cooking steaks, and several of the men were 
 trying to thaw out by the fire in spite of a cold wind, 
 when the first 150 mm. H. E. lit in the road near them. 
 There was a quick rush towards the nearest shelter, 
 the Boyau D'Haumont of 1916 fame, a battered 
 trench which, starting across the road from our kitch- 
 en, straggled up the hill, along the crest, and finally 
 lost itself in the direction of Brabant. Before three 
 
178 BATTERY A 
 
 shells had burst, most of the Battery were huddled in 
 this trench, chewing the half-done steaks which one 
 of the cooks with admirable presence of mind had 
 rescued. 
 
 As the bombardment of the valley became more 
 intense, we moved up the trench towards the crest of 
 the hill. From this eminence it was possible to over- 
 look the country in three directions. To the south 
 about a kilometer back lay Samogneux, a completely 
 leveled area of rubbish. Beyond this was the Verdun- 
 Sedan road, and farther, the fringe of trees which 
 marked the Meuse. To the north rose a battered hill- 
 side, cut by the road which led up to Haumont, a pile 
 of debris only slightly more imposing than Samog- 
 neux. Squatting on this hillside like huge toads we 
 could make out a dozen tanks, awaiting the "big jam" 
 under their camouflage nets and branches. Beyond, 
 just below C, below us and winding its shiny length 
 out of sight in both directions lay the Samogneux- 
 Crepion road; toward the south infested with dress- 
 ing-stations, infantry kitchens, machine-gun eche- 
 lons, light and heavy batteries in position; and toward 
 the north with barbed-wire, gas, front line trenches, 
 — and of course, mud. The whole outlook on this 
 bleak, cold morning produced an impression of cheer- 
 lessness and desolation, — it was truly the "Valley of 
 the Shadow of Death." 
 
 The heavy shelling along the ravine lasted some 
 forty minutes, killing several men and horses, but 
 none of ours. As the rain of the night before had 
 given place to a heavy mist, we felt at liberty to 
 move about at will — with always an eye to the near- 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 179 
 
 est shell-hole. The guns were camouflaged and laid 
 in on a defensive barrage. The disrupted kitchen was 
 re-established in a huge shell-hole higher up on the 
 hill-side. Three hundred twenty-pound shells were 
 carried to the top of the hill, two at a time or four at 
 a time, depending on the man's state of exhaustion. 
 Telephone lines were stretched to Battalion Head- 
 quarters across the valley and up the hill to the guns, 
 and a central established in a shell-hole. 
 
 Towards dark the question of sleeping quarters 
 most naturally presented itself. Each man appro- 
 priated a shell-hole along the shoulder of the hill and 
 made such improvement as he could. The rain was 
 partially deflected by a shelter — half spread over the 
 hole, but it had a disagreeable way of forming a pud- 
 dle in the hollow of the canvas and suddenly delug- 
 ing the blankets and person of the proprietor, at the 
 least provocation. After mess, a gun-guard, gas- 
 guard, and telephone-guard were posted, and in spite 
 of the wet and cold, everyone slept the blissful sleep 
 of the ignorant. 
 
 The morning of October 19 dawned clear and dry. 
 It meant the Boche could now observe our move- 
 ments, but we didn't consider that, for we were thor- 
 oughly sick of wet clothes and wet blankets. The 
 night before eight caissons had come up with am- 
 munition, and twenty of the horses with five drivers 
 had remained behind, spending the night in shell- 
 holes near the kitchen. All day Friday was spent in 
 packing shells up the hill on the backs of the horses, 
 ten shells at a time swung in a blanket. In this way 
 we got 1000 rounds up to the guns. During the day. 
 
180 BATTERY A 
 
 eight shots were fired for adjustment of the defen- 
 sive barrage, and a hundred rounds of harassing fire 
 on various targets. Towards evening the valley was 
 subjected to a heavy shelling throughout its length 
 which resulted in killing one of our twenty pack- 
 horses. Two batteries of the 322nd F. A. which had 
 been in front of us pulled out during the night. 
 
 Saturday was cold and overcast for a change. The 
 Battery fired on the Houppy Bois. The Boche re- 
 taliated with large caliber shells in the valley. Several 
 came suspiciously close to the guns, but cleared the 
 top of the hill by a narrow margin, so we could not be 
 sure they were meant for us. The echelon was moved 
 from Charny 24 kilometers back to the Bois des Sar- 
 telles, — the greatest distance we had ever had be- 
 tween guns and horse-line. 
 
 It soon became evident that the troop movement 
 and congestion in our valley had not escaped the 
 watchful eye of the Boche observation balloons. Sun- 
 day morning at half past five a lively rapid fire 
 combed the hill-top, swamping our four guns with 
 high explosive and poison gas, and McCann, Seale, 
 Maguire, Foley, L. L., Cope and Lorenzen, who were 
 doing guard duty, were so badly affected that 
 they were sent to the hospital. The Battery fired spas- 
 modically all morning. In the early afternoon our 
 kitchen was the storm center of an irregular bom- 
 bardment with heavy H. E. shells charged with ar- 
 senic gas. The cooks endeavored for some time to 
 make pancakes and dodge shells at the same time, 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 181 
 
 but the shells won out in the end. Three cooks were 
 gassed and evacuated at this time. 
 
 It would seem the Germans had done enough to 
 us for one day, but not at all. Misfortunes never come 
 alone, and, of course, it began to rain about 4.30 P. M. 
 Towards dusk a short, savage bombardment killed 
 one of our water-cart horses and wounded the other. 
 Worst of all it seriously wounded Wood, their driver. 
 Also a medical attendant of another outfit was killed 
 in the trench leading into our kitchen. 
 
 For the next three days, the Boche never forgot 
 where we were, and never let us forget that he knew. 
 The shell-hole quarters were deepened and improved, 
 shelter-trenches were dug near the guns, and the 
 losses replaced from the echelon. Almost every night 
 caissons or trucks replenished the ammunition piles 
 beside the road, and every available man was kept 
 at work lugging the shells up the hill. At best it was 
 a heartbreaking climb and our Teutonic friends did 
 their best to make it a dangerous one. 
 
 On Wednesday, October 23 at 6.15 in the morning, 
 after a night rendered sleepless by Boche harassing 
 fire, the Battery started to fire its share of the artil- 
 lery preparation against the Belleu Bois, Bois de la 
 Reine, and Bois D'Ormont. During the attack, the 
 Battery fired 1180 rounds in front of the advancing 
 infantry without drawing any retaliation — at least 
 not at that time. In the late afternoon we fired the 
 defensive barrage repeatedly. Our doughboys had 
 gained all objectives, as was their habit, but with se- 
 vere losses. The Boche was perhaps dazed by the 
 suddenness of the American onslaught, but he recov- 
 
182 BATTERY A 
 
 ered from his daze, and that at a time most fatal to 
 A Battery, for our Battalion received orders to move 
 forward that same night. 
 
 The Caisson Co. of the 101st Ammunition Train 
 that was detailed to move our ammunition forward 
 arrived at our old position around 11.30. Six caissons 
 were loaded from the piles beside the road. Mean- 
 while the gun crews were putting the four pieces in 
 march order to be ready for our limbers, due at any 
 minute. Heavy black clouds moved across the sky, 
 allowing short periods of the clearing moonlight. The 
 air was cold. By midnight the guns were ready and 
 on the road behind the loaded caissons, moving slowly 
 up the ravine. The park-wagon loaded with kitchen- 
 ware and personal equipment was placed in rear of 
 the last caisson. The progress of the column was 
 not steady. Each delay caused us the keenest anx- 
 iety. During our stay in "Death Valley" we had 
 learned to dread and expect the sudden bursts of fire 
 directed against any portion of the road or valley at 
 irregular intervals during both day and night. 
 
 About one kilometer ahead there was a point 
 where the hill climbed abruptly up from the road on 
 the left, a steep bank at its base. On the right was a 
 shallow ditch and then a field, cut by wire entangle- 
 ments, which sloped gradually upward from the road. 
 Our position had been chosen in the center of this 
 field, astride a tract of wire. Here the head of the 
 column halted. The caisson drivers drew over against 
 the ditch, dismounted, and started to unload their 
 shells, piling them rapidly along the roadside. 
 
 It seemed to us unusual that the German batteries 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 183 
 
 had remained so long inactive. The park-wagon was 
 pulling up on the left of the caissons in order to enter 
 the field and turn around, as the road was too narrow 
 for a turn. . . . There came a rumble from the Ger- 
 man lines, and a heavy-calibre shell screamed its way 
 towards us, bursting with a vivid flash in the field to 
 our right — the very place we were to go into position. 
 Drivers sprang to their horse's heads and waited. An- 
 other rumble, and before a man could move the in- 
 ferno was on us. Horses reared, crazed by the blind- 
 ing flash and noise. Men stood dazed or leapt blindly 
 for shelter. Some struggled to reach fallen comrades 
 under tangled harness and shattered caissons. Oth- 
 ers vainly fought to turn the horses in the narrow 
 road, or to cut them loose: — and always the shells 
 beat down, killing, tearing, blasting the confusion into 
 frenzy. It was during this action that Sgt. Peabody, 
 tending to his duties with the utmost disregard for 
 personal danger received a mortal wound and died 
 shortly after on the way to the hospital. Summing 
 up our losses, we found that besides Peabody; Knox, 
 Rodliff, and Priebe had been wounded and evacuated. 
 The attack stopped as suddenly as it had begun. 
 With difficulty some degree of order was brought out 
 of the chaos. Runners were dispatched for ambu- 
 lances, the dead horses and debris were dragged aside, 
 and blanket rolls were heaped around the wounded 
 to protect them from the stray splinters which buzzed 
 over us from the field where single shells were still 
 landing at frequent intervals. In spite of this, the 
 work of hauling the guns into position went on. 
 "Death Valley" seemed to be justifying its name. 
 
184 BATTERY A 
 
 The rest of the night settled down to a grim strug- 
 gle against shaken nerves. Isolated shells both gas 
 and H. E. kept falling on the position and near the 
 road. The men worked tenaciously, spreading cam- 
 ouflage nets, carrying shells, running telephone lines, 
 and establishing a kitchen. Dawn revealed the 
 wreckage and dead horses beside the road, — but to a 
 Boche airplane there would be no trace of the four 
 guns crouching under their nests of green. A half 
 hour later all the men were asleep in shell-holes. In 
 that night they had lived a hundred years. 
 
 The Battery remained in this position until No- 
 vember 1. During that time it fired harassing con- 
 centrations of H. E. in the Bois de Crepion and the 
 Hazelle Ravine, where the Germans were massed to 
 withstand our repeated stubborn attacks. Defensive 
 barrages were fired on the Belleu Bois, Bois de 
 Chenes, and Bois D'Ormont. We fired No. 7 gas 
 (poison) on the Crepion Road. 
 
 To understand our predicament in Haumont Ra- 
 vine, an explanation is necessary of the Division's 
 mission at this time. The Allies, to insure success 
 for the drive in the Argonne, must cause the German 
 High Command to dissipate its reserves along the 
 vital gap. For this purpose many points must be 
 savagely attacked at the same time even with no 
 hope of success or advance, merely to draw the Ger- 
 man resistance away from the victorious sweep to- 
 wards Sedan. The fact that these attacking troops, 
 to be fully successful in their mission, must engage 
 a superior number of the enemy, the more the bet- 
 ter, helps explain why the Twenty-Sixth found itself 
 
VIEW OF FORT DOUAMONT TAKEN FROM A BATTERY'S POSITION. THE FORT IS MERELY THE SLIGHT 
 EMINENCE ON THE FURTHEST RIDGE TO THE LEFT IT WAS HERE THAT THE IITH HOUR OF THE 
 
 IITH DAY OF THE IITH MONTH FOUND THE BATTERY FIRING ITS LAST SHOTS OF THE GREAT WAR. 
 
 SECOND VERDUN POSITION SHOWING THIRD AND FOURTH PIECES IN POSITION UNDER 
 CAMOUFLAGE BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENTS RUNNING DIAGONALLY IN FRONT OF 
 
 PIECES. SHELL HOLE AMMUNITION PIT IN THE LEFT FOREGROUND. OCCUPIED 
 
 OCTOBER 23-NOVEMBER I 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 185 
 
 battering forward against such hopeless odds be- 
 tween October 15 and 31. 
 
 It is easy to describe the purely physical happen- 
 ings of the Battery's stay in this last Death Valley 
 position, but they are not what stands out in our 
 memories of those days. The thing which none who 
 were there will ever forget is not so easy to describe. 
 It was a mental depression which no one altogether 
 escaped. The trying experience on the road perhaps 
 weakened our nervous resistance more than we real- 
 ized, and undoubtedly prolonged lack of sleep and 
 dismal surroundings, added to the constant shelling 
 and gassing in the valley, favored this depression 
 which was universal in the Battery. The surround- 
 ing were certainly bleak : rusty barbed-wire and shell- 
 torn earth for a foreground, and for a background, 
 blasted hills topped with gaunt fringes of shell-torn 
 trees; wounded men and battered ambulances for- 
 ever crawling along the tortured, mud-swamped road; 
 broken wagons, smashed caissons, packs, blankets, 
 towels, toilet articles, clothing, letters, dead horses, 
 • — everything trampled into the mud; the whole out- 
 look desolate and cheerless. The valley at this point 
 was a veritable gas-pocket, for the poisonous fumes 
 being heavier than air, rolled down from all sides and 
 hung in the bottom eighteen hours out of the twenty- 
 four. Being in a salient we were subjected from three 
 sides to a fire which was at times so close as to de- 
 stroy ammunition piles and even tear down the nets 
 from the guns. There was no shelter near except the 
 shallow holes the men could dig beside the pieces. The 
 result of the whole thing seemed to be a terrible ner- 
 
186 BATTERY A 
 
 vous tension which oppressed us and hung over us 
 like some wide-eyed, malignant spirit growing more 
 insistent from day to day. 
 
 On November 1 the Battery had orders to pull out 
 of Death Valley and relieve the Ninth Battery of the 
 Sixteenth Regiment (French) in the Bois D'Haudro- 
 mont. Profiting by the experience gained in our last 
 fatal move, the limbers came up at eight thirty A. M. 
 in broad daylight, or in other words, when the Ger- 
 mans would least expect troops in their right senses 
 to move. The risk was that we would be seen and 
 fired on, but even so it would have been light so that 
 we could have seen what we were doing, whereas by 
 waiting until darknejs we would be almost sure to 
 fall under another murderous Boche concentration 
 and repeat the scene of our entrance into the posi- 
 tion. By 9 o'clock the telephone lines were all cut and 
 tagged, the ammunition piled neatly by the road and 
 labeled, the kitchen stuff loaded in a truck, and the 
 firing battery out on the road headed for the rear. 
 No time was lost getting started. Before the last 
 of the cannoneers carrying their packs had walked 
 two hundred yards down the road, the position was 
 caught under a burst of fire which killed two infan- 
 trymen passing in front of our fresh-piled ammuni- 
 tion. . . . Continuing through Bras and across the 
 Meuse the Battery pulled up at Charny, where they 
 had supper and stayed until nightfall. Meanwhile, 
 scouts went on ahead to become familiar with the 
 new position to be taken over from the French. 
 
 While the guns had been in Death Valley, the 
 echelon situation had been a unique one. The cais- 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 187 
 
 sons and limbers, ration cart, a dozen horses, and six 
 drivers were quartered in Charny, a ruined town on 
 the Meuse, where the Regimental Supply Company 
 was also stationed. The men lived in cellars. Charny 
 for us was the "forward echelon". The "rear eche- 
 lon" was twenty kilometers back in the Bois de Sar- 
 telles near the Baleicourt railroad. Here the rest of 
 the drivers and horses and the heavy wagons led a 
 stupid, muddy existence, making occasional sorties at 
 dusk to return at daybreak if they were lucky. 
 
 After supper on November 1 the first platoon of 
 the firing battery left Charny, and recrossing the 
 Meuse at Bras, took the road for Haudromont. After 
 five kilometers through strange country in the grow- 
 ing dusk, they were met at the foot of a steep hill by 
 the scouts who had gone ahead earlier in the day. 
 The guns were driven up the hill over a very steep, 
 rough, uncertain road which required the most skill- 
 ful kind of driving. It was completely dark be- 
 fore both guns had been installed in place of the two 
 French guns, and the limbers sent back. Our two 
 pieces were laid in parallel to the two remaining 
 French guns, and for the rest of the night the French 
 and American gun-guards stood watch together. The 
 men passed their first peaceful night since before 
 Death Valley, crowded with their newly found French 
 comrades in the fine, dry, roomy dugouts. 
 
 The third and fourth pieces came up from Charny 
 next night, and the last of the French firing battery 
 departed. Their "cinquieme piece" or telephone de- 
 tail was the last to leave, as calls relative to the move- 
 ment of the French batteries were coming through 
 
188 BATTERY A 
 
 our central, and it also took time for the French tele- 
 phone men to trace out all their lines in company with 
 our own. We all hated to see the French *'artilleurs" 
 go, and felt lonesome for them for several days. 
 
 By Sunday, October 3, the position was all Amer- 
 ican. In every way it was the exact opposite of our 
 last position. It was on a high hill absolutely bare, in 
 spite of its name "Haudromont Wood," dry, and away 
 from the gas. There were deep dugouts fitted with 
 bunks, tables, benches, and even "sappes" or pas- 
 sageways deep into the ground by which escape was 
 possible in case the dugout should be caved in. We 
 inherited an unholy number of rats in this position, 
 who felt that they had more right there than we, 
 and took no pains to conceal their convictions on this 
 point. Trenches connected different parts of the po- 
 sition: gun-pits, dugouts, ammunition racks, etc. The 
 kitchen was perfect. It was in a huge, strong dug- 
 out partly cut out of the rock further down the hill 
 on the Battery's right flank. It was approached from 
 the guns by a deep trench, and from the rear by a 
 good road. Next door to it was the "Grande Car- 
 riere" inhabited by a French colonial outfit. This was 
 a huge quarry turned into a comfortable barrack and 
 dressing station, perfectly indestructible, and so hid- 
 den by screens and nets as to be almost invisible. The 
 French telephone central, "Cesare", was hidden some- 
 where deep in its mysterious rock passages. 
 
 The general appearance of the region was startl- 
 ing. Never had we seen evidence of such complete 
 and wholesale destruction. In 1914 a heavy forest 
 had clothed all the hills and valleys, but now not a 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 189 
 
 stump was left. Every yard of the sandy soil had 
 been upturned by a dozen shells as far as eye could 
 see. But, — this was all a past destruction; what we 
 had just left was a very present one, a fact that made 
 all the difference to us. 
 
 It was amazing how promptly everyone's spirits 
 revived in this new atmosphere. It was as if a heavy 
 weight which was bearing us down had suddenly been 
 lifted. We had good food, plenty of sleep, perfect 
 dugouts, enough work, freedom from worry, proxim- 
 ity with the ever-cheerful Frenchmen in the Grande 
 Carriere, and we didn't care if the war lasted twenty 
 years. We were occasionally subjected to a shelling 
 which a year ago would have seemed terrible, but now 
 it was a joke after Death Valley. On sunny days we 
 could watch the German ''heavies" pounding Douau- 
 mont a mile away, or searching for our railroad guns 
 near Charny. The huge shells would roar over our 
 heads with a noise like a train of cars, and then seem 
 to slow down and fall amid grinding brakes, kicking 
 a stately black geyser of dirt and smoke two hun- 
 dred feet into the sky. There was also enough aerial 
 activity to keep us amused. 
 
 As November Eleventh — a date as yet unborn — 
 drew near, things seemed to be speeding up for a cri- 
 sis of some sort. On the second the Battery fired for- 
 ty-seven rounds of H. E. on the Fond de Vaux to dis- 
 perse a possible Hun attack. 
 
 On the third and fourth extensive harrassing was 
 done by us with both H. E. and gas. We fired a roll- 
 ing barrage the evening of the third. 
 
 On the fifth came the rumor that we were to 
 
190 BATTERY A 
 
 launch a big attack and move forward at once. 
 Gloom ! 
 
 On the sixth the rumor of a relief around Novem- 
 ber 10; and the Boche shelled us for several hours, 
 cutting three telephone lines. 
 
 The Seventh brought nevv^s that the attack was 
 not to take place. Joy! 
 
 The next day we heard from the French that an 
 armistice would come into effect at fifteen o'clock. 
 Immediately afterwards we received orders to pack 
 up and be ready to move forward at once. The rear 
 echelons of the entire Regiment moved up from 
 Baleicourt to Charny, a good deal as a measuring- 
 worm gathers up his behind end under him before 
 stepping out in front. A reconnoisance party was 
 sent forward to pick positions. At dusk the recon- 
 naisance party was recalled and no move took place. 
 
 The morning of the next day, November 9, the at- 
 tack started, but we heard that the Infantry advance 
 was slow. Nevertheless, by nightfall we were all 
 packed up and prepared to pull forward in the wake 
 of the Second Battalion which we heard had already 
 passed the old Boche front line. Again we did not 
 move. 
 
 On the tenth five men went away on seven-day- 
 leave, the first since the Division had been in France. 
 This day was particularly rich in rumors. The first 
 one was that our failure to move forward last night 
 was due to the Second Battalion's being stuck in the 
 mud on the only available road, but that they had been 
 pulled out by teams of our horses, and that we were to 
 move before midnight. Groans ! The second was that 
 
THE VERDUN FRONT 191 
 
 the Kaiser had abdicated. The next was that our 
 "move is again postponed." The cannoneers were 
 crazy at having to pull the guns out only to put them 
 back again for the millionth time in five days. 
 
 The next day was the Eleventh. Before breakfast 
 came the most preposterous rumor of all. It seemed 
 an armistice had actually been signed and hostilities 
 would cease on the Western Front at eleven o'clock. 
 This was received in silence. Let people make up 
 that sort of a story if it amuses them. There was in- 
 difference also in the ^'Grande Carriere." All that 
 morning a heavy firing continued from the American 
 side. The Battery fired all its harrassing concentra- 
 tions at long range. About ten o'clock the Major 
 called up to say that fire would cease at 10:59 by syn- 
 chronized time, and to report any violation by either 
 side. We were incredulous. We were like the little 
 boy who said "I don't believe in you, Santa Claus, but 
 come just the same." 
 
 At 10:59 the Battery ceased fire, and after that 
 every one listened. Ominous silence. Two minutes 
 passed. Then came a grunt from Charny and a lone 
 heavy went racketing overhead. So this eleven 
 o'clock stuff had been another hot one. But hope 
 dies hard, and ours had been stirred if not actually 
 aroused. We kept listening. There were no more 
 shots, and pretty soon we heard church bells, whis- 
 tles, and a regimental band from the direction of 
 Verdun. . . . 
 
 The guns were kept laid on the normal defensive 
 barrage. The rocket and telephone guards remained 
 in their places. At lunch it was remarked that some 
 
192 BATTERY A 
 
 of the more trusting spirits in the Battery had dis- 
 carded their steel helmets and gas-masks. By night- 
 fall the conviction seemed to have taken root that the 
 w^ar w^as over, for the sky was alight with rockets, 
 flares, Very lights, and bonfires, while bells and whis- 
 tles sounded in the distance. The Boche was beaten, 
 but — our drivers hauled ammunition all that night. 
 
 The next three days were spent tidying up the 
 position, sorting ammunition, cleaning the guns, etc. 
 
 At last our long expected move took place, but in 
 the opposite direction. On November 14 we pulled the 
 four guns out of the Haudromont position and turned 
 our backs to the Western Front for the last time, still 
 perplexed, but with a dawning light of understanding. 
 
'^^'▼wr ^ 
 
 THE OLD FRENCH "gO' AT BERNECOURT. ONE 
 OF OUR "CHINESE BATTERY". EQUIPPED WITH 
 NO RECOIL MECHANISM, LIKE THE 75, THE GUN. 
 ON FIRING, WOULD ROLL BACK UP THE INCLINED 
 PLANE AND ITS MUZZLE WOULD BANG DOWN- 
 WARDS 
 
 FRENCH LONG RANGE GUN WHICH FIRED OVER OUR HEADS 
 WHILE IN THE VERDUN SECTOR 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 
 
 npHE days immediately following the armistice 
 were among the most gloomy in the annals of 
 the Battery. The war was over; that was the one 
 ray of light on the dark horizon. Would the armis- 
 tice endure? Where were we going? Russia, the 
 Army of Occupation, home; which was our destina- 
 tion? What were we waiting for? Why was there 
 no movement? These were the questions which fed 
 upon the morale of the Battery, and reduced the men, 
 already exhausted and sapped by the horrors of the 
 last days of the war, to a state of deepest dejection. 
 
 At last, a part of the uncertainty was ended, for 
 on November fifteenth, a move was ordered, a move 
 not forward, but to the area behind Verdun. Bois de 
 Thierville was the first halt; not a town, this, but a 
 rambling collection of Adrian barracks, scattered 
 about in the deep woods, whose thick branches, in 
 days not long past, had screened troop movements 
 from the watchful eyes of the Hun avions whose 
 presence no longer polluted the clean French skies. 
 So here, in the dense woods, the Battery assembled, 
 the heavy wagons and caissons from the Baliecourt 
 echelon meeting the tired cannoneers who, behind the 
 clanking 75's, had hiked all the weary kilometers from 
 the Douaumont position. 
 
 Seen as a whole for the first time since the hike 
 from St. Mihiel, the Battery presented a depressing 
 spectacle; the condition of both the horses and the 
 
194 BATTERY A 
 
 men was worse than separate glimpses of the echelon 
 and the position would have led one to believe. The 
 men, worn down to almost nothing by the last terrific 
 days around Verdun, showed interest in one thing, 
 and one thing only, — sleep. And the horses ! Out of 
 the one hundred and sixty odd, that a battery is sup- 
 posed to have, only sixty remained; sixty gaunt, fam- 
 ished beasts, underfed and overworked. One won- 
 dered how a move of even a few kilometers could be 
 accomplished with such animals. It seemed a mathe- 
 matical impossibility to move four guns, eight cais- 
 sons, two park wagons, a fourgon, a rolling kitchen, 
 and a ration cart with sixty horses. 
 
 For one brief night the Battery rested in the Thier- 
 ville woods, and next morning's sun found the billet- 
 ing parties on the road again, headed for Seraucourt, 
 a few kilometers from the Souilly railhead. 
 
 A smear of red roofs, a huddle of white houses 
 heaped beside the straight white road, that was 
 Seraucourt, a shivering, poverty stricken town where 
 a handful of old women and older men eked out a 
 miserable existence. From the Town Major, an af- 
 fable, gray-headed old infantry sergeant, a reforme 
 of 1916, we learned Seraucourt's story. In '14, just 
 before the first Marne battle, the Boche held the 
 town; not long enough, apparently, to do a great deal 
 of visible damage, for the houses were for the most 
 part in fairly presentable shape; but, yet, with the 
 true Teutonic benevolence, he had paralyzed the ex- 
 istence of the inhabitants; for when he departed, he 
 took with him all the livestock of the town, not to 
 mention the linen, the clocks, even the tableware 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 195 
 
 which the townspeople possessed. After this mortal 
 blow, the villagers scattered to the four corners of 
 France, and lived the pitiable life of refugees, till the 
 fall of 1918 when a few of the oldest inhabitants re- 
 turned, preferring to face the hardships of life in 
 their old homes in the advanced zones than to finish 
 their obscure careers among strangers. We also 
 learned later, though not from the Town Major, that 
 the departure of the kindly Hun had been at the ur- 
 gent request of a battalion of French Territorials, 
 and that a score of the unwelcome guests lie in a tiny 
 cemetery behind the town. 
 
 As a billeting town Seraucourt left much to be 
 desired. Quarters for men and horses were hard to 
 find; a dozen men in a loft over Mme. Goulet's, a sec- 
 tion of horses in her shed; thirty men in the empty 
 house across the street, and a few single-mounts in 
 the tiny stable below, and so on. 
 
 Ten o'clock at night, a bitter wind sweeps the wide 
 white road, the moon shimmers down on the red 
 roofs, casting a frigid frosty radiance over the village ; 
 a rumbling and clanking which grows and swells, 
 fills the wide street; tired voices battle against the 
 high wind and the Battery is here. A hasty supper 
 is prepared and the men, cheered by the prospect of 
 an early start on the following morning, stumble into 
 their billet to sleep the sleep of the just. 
 
 Morning, bright and gusty, and the Battery is on 
 the road again, the drivers hunched forward in their 
 saddles to lessen the angry buffets of the wind, while 
 the cannoneers, "sac-a-dos", plod stolidly along, shel- 
 tering themselves as best they can in the lee of the 
 
196 BATTERY A 
 
 caissons. Noon, and the destination is reached. 
 
 Ville-devant-Belrain, our new home, presents a 
 cheerful appearance, after the ghastly bareness of 
 Seraucourt. Adrian barracks with bunks for the 
 men, sheds for the horses. What luxury! Word is 
 passed around that we shall rest here for at least 
 three days and with a sigh of gratification, we set 
 out to explore the town. No difficult task this, for 
 Ville-devant-Belrain is but one degree larger than 
 Seraucourt. There is a church, whose tower over- 
 shadows the whole town; there are two stores where 
 one may purchase such luxuries as rather doubtful 
 champagne, beer, dried figs, and even, it is rumored, 
 that rarest of delicacies, condensed milk. Decidedly, 
 we are well "set" here. 
 
 Let not the uninitiated be deceived by the sonor- 
 ous name, Ville-devant-Belrain, suggestive of ancient, 
 massive buildings, of age, mellowed cathedrals, and 
 rich stained glass. The smaller and poorer the French 
 town, the more imposing and longer the name. Let 
 the big cities be content with brief, uncommunicative 
 monosyllabic titles: Tours, Toul, Metz, Nice, those 
 are all very well for your metropolis, but your tiny 
 isolated hamlet must rejoice under some ponderous, 
 hyphenated name. Jouy-sous-les-Cotes, Mandres-aux- 
 quartre-Tours: these are the appellations for your 
 one-streeted villages. For^. instance, a smaller town 
 than Ville-devant-Belrain, and in the same vicinity, 
 would undoubtedly weight itself down with some 
 such tongue-tripping name as St. Mathilde-les-belle- 
 sous-Ville-devant-Belrain. 
 
 Comfortably billeted in the Adrians, with the pros- 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 197 
 
 pect of a rest, the Battery prepares to enjoy life. 
 Whereupon, Dame Rumor with a joyous whoop, ap- 
 pears in our midst to shatter peace of mind and con- 
 tentment which is gradually settling down over the 
 Battery. Look inside the Adrian at the edge of town; 
 ten or a dozen men are clustered around an old dis- 
 mantled forge which stands in the middle of the dirt 
 floor; one energetic young man pumps at the bel- 
 lows, while another pitches slabs of wood, (salvaged 
 from the bunks of the absentees) into the glowing 
 fire; the bellows wheeze protestingly, shooting up a 
 tornado of sparks from the fire (from time to time), 
 to the great annoyance of the clustering group about 
 it, as though out of spite at not being left alone. The 
 topic of conversation is the only topic which interests 
 us at present. 
 
 "We'll be going home *toot-sweet' ", says a me- 
 chanic. "The divisional M. P.'s are at St. Nazaire 
 now; I know that for a fact." 
 
 "What does that prove?" asks a signaller. 
 
 "We're sailing from Bordeaux; I heard Major 
 Blank say so." Gloom begins to settle over the group. 
 
 "Perhaps they'll split the Division and send part 
 from St. Nazaire and part from Bordeaux," hazards 
 someone. Gloom starts to lift; conversation becomes 
 animated once more. 
 
 The door opens and in steps an O. D. clad figure; 
 on his left shoulder is an horizon-blue Y. D., the fore- 
 runner of present divisional insignia; on his arm is a 
 brassard bearing the all-powerful letters, M. P. Bang 
 goes the mechanic's rumor. 
 
 "Well, boys," says the M. P. cheerfully, "we're 
 
198 BATTERY A 
 
 going up to Germany; the Division entrains the first 
 of next week." Crash go all the inflated hopes; the 
 M. P., aggressively cheerful, warms his hands at the 
 fire and beams on the dejected group. Sundry fiery 
 spirits contemplate murder, — ''justifiable homicide," 
 surely. A moment later in rushes an excited youth 
 with still another rumor. 
 
 "The Ambulance companies have turned in their 
 ambulances and the Ammunition Train are going to 
 get rid of their trucks," is his news. Up go the spirits 
 again, undaunted even by the pessimistic opinion of a 
 "joy killer." "Well, they won't need ambulances or 
 motor-trucks in the Army of Occupation." And so 
 it goes, up and down, from joy to gloom. 
 
 Mid-afternoon, bright and sunny; we are cleaning 
 equipment in the gun-park. The rumors happen to 
 be good, a week's sojourn in Ville-devant-Belrain be- 
 ing the latest, and everyone is in good spirits. Sud- 
 denly the peaceful air is shattered by the top-ser- 
 geant's whistle ; "We move in half an hour." We has- 
 tily and profanely pack up and soon form in column 
 of squads on the road. Everyone carries a pack, save 
 the lucky few, detailed to drive the heavy wagons. 
 
 At last we start, wondering why we didn't sal- 
 vage that extra blanket for the sake of a lighter pack. 
 The sun sets, the stars come out, hesitatingly, the 
 moon rises, and still on we go. What a crime! A 
 night hike, a relic of the dark ages when the Hun 
 was still on the rampage! Who is responsible for 
 this? "Don't those birds know that the war is over?" 
 groans a cannoneer as he shifts his pack from one 
 aching shoulder to the other. "No," is the immediate 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 199 
 
 response. "Those mopes in the S. O. S. never knew 
 that there was a war." Ten o'clock and we march 
 into a town, turn off the main road into a steep alley 
 and finally halt in a huge, three-sided enclosure, a 
 large farm, we decide, but it is too dark to see. The 
 "soup-gun" trundles past us, leaving a trail of glow- 
 ing sparks behind and halts in the shadow of the 
 buildings. "Fall out, mess in twenty minutes," calls 
 the "top", and amid a cheerful clattering of mess- 
 kits, we rush off to our billets. The mess-line forms, 
 moves and vanishes; lights appear in the billets; half 
 an hour and the Battery is asleep, dreaming of Brest, 
 St. Nazaire and Boston. 
 
 Four days we stayed in this new home of ours, 
 Erize-St. Dizier by name, four days of rest and rumor 
 mongering. There were three stores and a cafe 
 where the wants of the inner man might be satisfied 
 with such epicurean delights as grapes, cheese, white 
 wine, and an odd kind of cake which looked like chew- 
 ing-tobacco and tasted faintly of shoe-dubbin. And 
 one day the guns and caissons were mysteriously 
 spirited away to a nearby railhead; on top of this, 
 we turned in all our horses, save twelve. All the op- 
 timists of the Battery took heart again, while the 
 pessimists sought cover in dark corners. But the day 
 before we left, the pessimists again came into their 
 own; for the Chicago Tribune contained a list of the 
 divisions making up the Army of Occupation, and 
 with sinking hearts we read " . . . will be composed 
 of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 26th, 28th ..." 
 
 A march of reasonable length on a pleasant morn- 
 ing is no disagreeable task; in fairly good spirits we 
 
200 BATTERY A 
 
 tramped on, the next day, uphill and down, passing 
 the villages of Gery, Loisey and Culey and at last, 
 as we mounted a long steep rise, the towers of Guer- 
 pont and Tronville appeared on our left. We were on 
 familiar ground now, for it was at Tronville that we 
 detrained on our way to St. Mihiel ; in front of us lay 
 Tannois where we had spent one night on our way to 
 the drive. Guerpont was our objective, and noon 
 found the Battery busily settling down in its new 
 home, and looking hopefully in the direction of the 
 kitchen. 
 
 Guerpont was by far the largest town that we had 
 seen for months. It boasted three streets, a huge 
 church and numerous cafes and stores, all the latter 
 in a fairly prosperous condition. 
 
 Our stay there was the pleasantest period of life 
 that the Battery had experienced for a long time. 
 We drilled a little and rested a great deal, our chief 
 task being to make up the back arrears of sleep lost 
 in the past nine months. 
 
 Thanksgiving time came with all its memories of 
 New England and bygone feasts at home, so the Bat- 
 tery set out to make this Thanksgiving one that 
 would long be remembered. Trips were made to 
 Toul, to Bar-le-Duc, even to Nancy, in search of sup- 
 plies for the feast that was to come. Soon the hum- 
 ble cook shack began to resemble a country store; 
 turkeys hung from the rafters, dangling like im- 
 mense pendulums over the busy cooks; barrels of 
 vegetables lurked in dark corners, while spices and 
 flavoring of all kinds littered the shelves. The great 
 day came. 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 201 
 
 What a feast it was! Under the direction of 
 George Young, himself a highly skilled cook, the 
 other cuisine artists and K. P.'s had labored early and 
 late, and at two o'clock were ready to serve the fol- 
 lowing menu: 
 
 Vegetable soup 
 Roast turkey Baked potatoes Brussels sprouts 
 
 Cranberry sauce 
 
 Bread and jam Raisin pie Apple pie 
 
 Beer Hot Chocolate 
 
 Nuts Apples Candy 
 
 No imposing bill-of-fare for a camp in the States, 
 perhaps, but to prepare that dinner in a small French 
 town, with limited facilities, was no light undertak- 
 ing. High credit is due to George Young and his 
 apostles for the great effort they made that the 
 "boys" might enjoy their Thanksgiving day as nearly 
 as possible as they did in the States. 
 
 Life flowed along smoothly enough in the days 
 following Thanksgiving. There was a dearth of ru- 
 mors, and the few that did come in were good. The 
 morale of the whole Regiment was on a higher level 
 than it had been for a long time. The only items of 
 interest in this period were the departure of a dozen 
 men on furloughs and the first appearance of the of- 
 ficial divisional insignia, the dark blue YD on the OD 
 diamond. 
 
 Finally, orders came to move, not forward, but 
 toward the front again. Despite the reassuring words 
 of the Colonel, a cold horror gripped everyone, until 
 it was discovered the move was only some six kilo- 
 meters to the town of Gery, through which we passed 
 
202 BATTERY A 
 
 on our hike from Erize-St. Dizier. Still it was an- 
 noying to move; we were comfortably off at Guer- 
 pont, living on excellent terms with the inhabitants, 
 and this meant getting used to new accommodations 
 and environment, and a lengthening of our eventual 
 hike to the Tronville rail-head. Decidedly this move 
 was a nuisance. But weather favored us, and we 
 tramped away under a bright sun, with many a long- 
 ing, backward glance at Guerpont and the corner 
 cafe. Over the hills we went, retracing our former 
 hike till at last we reached Gery. Lined up in the one 
 street which Gery boasted, the Battery stared in apa- 
 thetic disapproval at the poverty-stricken houses, 
 the omnipresent mud and the manure piles, noting 
 with disappointment the absence of cafes and stores, 
 and speculating coldly on the probable delapidation 
 of the billets. The cooks working about the soup- 
 gun set up a half-hearted clatter of knives and spoons 
 but it lacked conviction, and we crept dismally away 
 to our billets. 
 
 Life in Gery was for a while as dismal as the 
 town's appearance seemed to predict. It rained inces- 
 santly, the inhabitants were cold and suspicious, and 
 someone higher up apparently went crazy and sen- 
 tenced us to long hours of foot-drill. As to the inhab- 
 itants, they were soon won over, when they discov- 
 ered that we did not steal their poultry, break their 
 windows, or disturb their ancestral manure piles. 
 Their hostile attitude was explained by the fact that 
 the American draftees who had occupied Gery be- 
 fore us had been "pas gentil." We, on the contrary, 
 helped improve the town by cleaning the streets and 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 203 
 
 performing sundry tasks which the villagers, owing 
 to the absence of their young men, could not carry 
 out. So one annoyance was removed, but rain and 
 foot-drill continued and we had yet to discover a 
 more uncongenial occupation than doing "squads 
 right" in deep mud. 
 
 Monotony was broken from time to time by such 
 amusements as a Brigade review which gave rise to 
 a horde of rumors of all sorts and descriptions, a hike 
 to the Tronville gun park where we indulged in a 
 frenzied harness cleaning bee, and practice reviews 
 and guard-mounts. Despite all these inspiring per- 
 formances, time hung heavily on our hands, and bad 
 rumors, oozing in from all quarters, lowered our 
 spirits till we simply moped from day to day, plough- 
 ing indifferently through the all-pervading mud to 
 meals, to drill, to bed. Squads right, squads left, on 
 right into line, O'Grady says "left face", O'Grady 
 says "about face", and so it went. 
 
 Orders to move came unexpectedly, so unexpect- 
 edly that many refused to believe their authenticity, 
 asserting that this was merely a new form of spread- 
 ing rumors. Most of us merely waited, the general 
 attitude being "Don't believe a damn thing till you 
 see it happen." Moving to the railhead seemed too 
 good to be true after all these weeks of hiking and 
 waiting and hiking. Just to reassure us that we were 
 still in the army, orders were changed at the last mo- 
 ment, and instead of entraining at Tronville, we were 
 to go to Ligny-en-Barrois, four kilometers farther 
 on, making a hike of ten kilometers instead of six. 
 
 Guerpont with all its pleasant memories behind 
 
204 BATTERY A 
 
 us, we push on, wondering where we halt, who is set- 
 ting such a fast pace, and why we didn't roll our 
 packs differently. Tronville and a halt at last ! With 
 sighs of gratification we sink down onto the low 
 curbstone (yes, Tronville has sidewalks) and produce 
 cigarettes from invisible sources. The whistle blows 
 (an unbelievably short ten minutes), and with much 
 grunting and shifting of packs, we fall in and march 
 off. Ligny lies ahead of us, framed by the poplars 
 bordering the straight white road which flows like 
 a broad ribbon into the heart of the town. On, on 
 we go, shifting our packs this way and that, won- 
 dering if there ever was such a long four kilometers, 
 while Ligny seems to recede at each step, unattain- 
 able as a "Y" hut in the Zone of Advance. 
 
 At last the buildings close in on either side of us 
 and, at a rapid pace, we surge up a side street and in 
 a few moments emerge on the loading platform of 
 the Ligny station. The trains are waiting for us, 
 and without undue delay we scramble on board. Get- 
 ting settled in a "40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux" box-car is 
 an art. We are, however, well acclimated to this 
 method of travel and in a twinkling, equipment is 
 slung from nails and hooks in the sides and roof of 
 the car, and the happy travellers are in an inextricable 
 tangle of legs and arms in the straw below. After 
 gloomily speculating on the probability of the car 
 having a flat wheel, we lose no time in getting to 
 sleep. A rattle, a rumble, an effeminate shriek from 
 the engine and we are off, the equipment swinging 
 precariously over the heads of the unconscious 
 sleepers. 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 205 
 
 Morning in a box car is not an enlivening scene. 
 Everyone is cold, numb, cramped and out-of-sorts. 
 Some misguided enthusiast reaches for his pack, let- 
 ting it fall vv^ith a crash upon a recumbent comrade 
 fortunate enough to be still asleep. Profanity and 
 apologies ensue and quiet reigns once more. We 
 open the car doors and the three lucky enough to be 
 in the strategic position, svv^ing their legs out of the 
 car, in defiance of regulations, and contemplate the 
 passing panorama as they meditatively consume that 
 inspiring breakfast-food, canned roast beef. At noon 
 the train slackens its speed, noses hesitatingly along, 
 and finally comes to a bumpy halt. The engine hoots 
 fiercely, but this is only a bluff — then comes a long, 
 plaintive wail, a clear admission of defeat on the part 
 of the engine. We start again, only to come to a 
 sudden crashing stop. We slide gently backwards. 
 This manoeuvre is repeated until we jolt along by a 
 broad ramp and halt. There is a feeling of finality 
 about this stop, and the occupants of the car, disen- 
 tangling themselves, struggle to their feet again and 
 crowd to the doors. "All out" is the command, and 
 we jump out to the ramp, dragging our packs after 
 us. The guns are unloaded and pushed with immense 
 labor into a muddy field near the ramp; we climb un- 
 der our packs again and off we go. 
 
 As we march along, we survey the road ahead of 
 us with growing disfavor; a road of rare beauty from 
 artists' standpoint, no doubt, but to the soldier's eye 
 it presents too many ups and downs to be quite satis- 
 factory. We pass through two or three villages and 
 note with approbation that, although small, they all 
 
206 BATTERY A 
 
 contain well-stocked stores and hospitable looking 
 cafes. A wagon load of wine passes us and is greeted 
 with affection; spirits rise perceptibly. Going into a 
 "good sector" evidently. Still, these hills annoy us, 
 and it is with a sigh of relief that we emerge on a 
 long stretch of level road. Three villages lie ahead 
 of us, and one, of no inconsiderable size is perched on 
 a high hill at our left. Varennes, we are told, is the 
 name of our new billet, and with a thrill of joy, we 
 see on a guide post "Varennes-sous-les-Cotes, 2 kilo- 
 meters." Our joy is short lived, however, for some 
 better-informed person announces that Varennes sur 
 Amance is our destination. A shuddering fear grows 
 into a sickening certainty as we pass through Va- 
 rennes-sous-les-Cotes and swing off to the left, 
 headed straight for that awe-inspiring hill. We have 
 come fifteen long kilometers already, we are fagged 
 out now, and there is that long-steep hill, a good two- 
 kilometer climb before us. Up we go, through gath- 
 ering dusk, panting and puffing; a last heart-break- 
 ing grade, and we halt. We are in the town. 
 
 A brilliantly lighted cafe looms up in front of us, 
 a large church lifts its slender spire off to the left, 
 while lights glow hospitably in the houses around us. 
 Surely '*A" Battery is not billeted here! Why, this 
 is a veritable metropolis, eight hundred people at 
 least! None the less, it is true; this is our billet. And 
 shouldering our packs again, we hunch stiffly down 
 the street and are assigned our billets. And good 
 billets they were. All the sections were assigned to 
 vacant houses, while the Special Detail drew one fully 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 207 
 
 furnished. We lighted fires in our new fireplaces and 
 settled down. 
 
 The first few days of our stay at Varennes were 
 spent in a thorough exploration of the town and all 
 its resources. Our appreciation grew with each new 
 discovery. Little luxuries, such as jam, chocolate, 
 condensed milk, might be had in abundance; at such 
 a house, it was whispered, one might buy fresh milk, 
 while farther down the street good rooms were to 
 rent. 
 
 Here began a new phase in the life of the Battery, 
 that wonderful though expensive system known as 
 "living out." The process was simple; one hired a 
 room, containing usually a bed and a tiny fireplace; 
 one's hostess took care of the room and furnished bed 
 clothes; for all this, one paid the standard rate of one 
 franc per night. So, little by little, men began to dis- 
 appear from their billets, showing themselves only at 
 formations and mess, lurking during their leisure 
 hours in their hidden fastnesses, immune from sudden 
 details and inspections. 
 
 The people of Varennes we found to be hospita- 
 ble and friendly, an "entente cordiale" being soon es- 
 tablished. The lucky member of the Battery who 
 lived out was in most cases adopted outright by the 
 family with whom he lodged, while friendships with 
 this neighbor and that sprang with amazing rapidity. 
 Truly this was a "good sector." 
 
 Christmas Eve, 1918, was a memorable night. The 
 Battery had organized a more or less formal vaude- 
 ville entertainment, and the Mairie, "Town Hall", had 
 been secured for a theatre. In consenting to the use 
 
208 BATTERY A 
 
 of the hall, the mayor had asked if the show might 
 not be put on one night for the townspeople, as they 
 had no other entertainment of any sort since that 
 black August in 1914. When one read in the Ameri- 
 can papers of bazaars, fairs and entertainments tak- 
 ing place in every town in New England, it was hard 
 to grasp the fact that since 1914 these people had put 
 aside every form of amusement and devoted them- 
 selves solely to one purpose — the war. It would have 
 taken a harder heart than the Battery's to have re- 
 fused such a request; Christmas Eve was set as the 
 night for the townspeople and the tidings were pub- 
 lished to the village by the town-crier. The town was 
 in a turmoil. A theatrical production by the Ameri- 
 cans — this would be a Christmas for the people of 
 Varennes to talk about for years to come. 
 
 The great night came, and the townspeople, 
 decked out in their Sunday best, which in many cases 
 had not seen the light of day for four long years, 
 trooped to the Mairie. All Varennes was present, 
 with scattering representatives from nearby towns, 
 and seated in the gaily decorated hall of the Mairie, 
 they waited eagerly for the show to start. It was 
 not a very ambitious production, but very well done 
 in view of the short time which was devoted to prep- 
 aration. There were singing and dancing acts, an 
 exhibition of banjo playing, a tumbling act, a comic 
 song with a beautifully trained chorus, all of which 
 roused the crowd to the highest pitch of enjoyment. 
 We could not have found a more appreciative audi- 
 ence for an opening night ; Everyone in the hall, from 
 the mayor himself to the sergeant of the local gen- 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 209 
 
 darmes, was loud in expressing delight at the whole 
 proceedure. An entertainment given for them, for 
 their own amusement by the Americans! "Tiens, que 
 'c'est gentil, ca!" And the session ended in a gale of 
 cordiality. 
 
 Christmas day dawned, gray and cold, with a bit- 
 ing wind whipping down the long main street. After 
 a hasty breakfast, the finishing touches were put on 
 policing, the billets reduced to a state of chilly per- 
 fection, and each section fell in in front of its "loge- 
 ment" to wait for the President to come by, as sched- 
 uled in orders. 
 
 We waited. Noon came. The hour for our long- 
 anticipated Christmas dinner arrived, and still no 
 President. The wind reduced us to a state of icy in- 
 difference. And we waited. 
 
 Finally, at two o'clock, word was received that the 
 President would not visit Varennes, and we were dis- 
 missed, after standing for nearly four mortal hours 
 in the biting wind. 
 
 Owing to the lateness of the hour, our dinner was 
 a mixed up, ill-served affair, and it was with a decided 
 sense of relief that we finally washed our mess-kits 
 and settled down to enjoy what was left of the after- 
 noon. Evening brought forth a repetition of the show 
 of the previous night, staged this time for the especial 
 benefit of the Battery, though a few French families 
 who had not been present at the previous perform- 
 ance were invited. And so our Christmas ended. 
 
 A tremendous enthusiasm for foot-drill on the 
 part of the powers that be ushered in the New Year. 
 We did squads right and squads left and similar brae- 
 
210 BATTERY A 
 
 ing manoeuvers in the muddy fields about Varennes. 
 This irritation was partially offset by a persistent 
 rumor that we would soon entrain for a mysterious 
 place known as "the Le Mans Area" where, said 
 friend Rumor, all troops were sent prior to embarka- 
 tion. This rumor was strengthened by gradual issues 
 of new equipment and frenzied activities on the part 
 of the "de-cootie-izer" as the steam-ovens, in which 
 clothes were disinfected, were known. 
 
 Then football started and foot-drill was indulged 
 in during the long, gray mornings only. When the 
 exhausted players, plastered from head to foot with 
 liquid mud, would limp down the main street of Va- 
 rennes, the townspeople would rush to their doors in 
 amazement. Surely, the Americans were mad! 
 
 One cold, gusty morning as we fell in for reveille 
 at the grisly hour of 6.15, the Captain was seen to 
 take his place before the Battery, carrying a great 
 hand-full of papers. These he read aloud, while the 
 Battery gasped and wondered. Could we believe our 
 ears! Yes, we were ordered back to the States, that 
 land where there was no mud and where people spoke 
 intelligibly — ordered Home ! 
 
 We scattered to our billets to discuss the great 
 news. True, no date had been set, but soon Rumor 
 set that aright. We would probably leave Varennes 
 by January 15, spend some ten days in the "Le Mans 
 Area" and then embark at Brest, reaching Boston by 
 the eighth of February at the very latest. So said 
 friend Rumor. The one dark spot that we could see 
 •Vyas that long, long- hike to La Ferte to entrain. 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 211 
 
 "Still," said the pessimists, "the order might be can- 
 celled" — which was quite possible. 
 
 We settled down to wait, struggling through our 
 mornings of foot-drill as leisurely as possible and 
 scientifically "burning the bush" in the afternoons. 
 In the evenings we gathered around the fires in our 
 billets and discussed the rumors of the day, or would 
 dismally ponder over the recently received news of 
 National Prohibition. 
 
 A football game with C Battery broke the monot- 
 ony for a while. Despite a large sum of money wag- 
 ered with the sporting element of C, the Battery lost, 
 6-0, in a desperately foughf^game. Again the people 
 of Varennes murmured: "Quel horreur!" as the two 
 teams splashed about in the muddy pasture, and won- 
 dered what punishment forced the Americans to so 
 torment themselves. 
 
 The glorious day arrived when orders for de- 
 parture were received, and we set about saying fare- 
 well to our French friends and getting our equipment 
 ready. But, observe what happens. It is the night 
 of January 16; (we are ordered to depart on the 
 17th. Several members of the "Jiks" are enjoying a 
 farewell dinner with the Garnier's who live next door 
 to their billet. The air is thick with polite speeches 
 expressing regret at leaving and promising to write 
 when the destination is reached. A knock is heard at 
 the door; a neighbor has come to tell Madame Gar- 
 nier the news "The Americans are not to leave till 
 January 25; their orders are changed." Madame 
 Garnier beams. The "Jiks" try to appear agreeably 
 surprised at the prospect of a delay in the movement 
 
212 BATTERY A 
 
 home, but it is a failure, and the party soon breaks 
 up. "There ain't no word bad enough to express it." 
 And gloomily we take up the old routine again. Then 
 came an order to entrain on January 22, and, a trifle 
 distrustfully, we started preparations to move again. 
 A pleasing feature of the new order was that we en- 
 train at Vitry, a good 30 kilometers from Varennes, 
 instead of at La Ferte, only seventeen. So we swore 
 and waited. 
 
 Our move from Varennes marked a new epoch in 
 the "Great Trek" of the Battery. For the first time 
 in many long months, we knew where we were 
 going, knew that we were bound for Mayet, in the 
 Ecommoy district of the "Le Mans Area." The length 
 of our stay in Mayet was unknown, but rumors placed 
 it anywhere from ten days to a month, and we, cred- 
 ulous as ever, looked for a speedy embarkation. 
 
 All the afternoon there was a great commotion in 
 Varennes, trucks coming and going, motorcyclists 
 and runners dashing feverishly about. Shortly after 
 two o'clock, the first units of the Regiment left the 
 town, while the Battery sat on the newly-rolled packs 
 and waited — the afternoon waned, and still we sat. 
 Suddenly, at 5.30, our whistle shrilled in the street 
 and we tumbled out, shrugging and hunching our- 
 selves into our packs, to wait another half hour, and 
 wonder what it was all about. Six o'clock, we swung 
 into column and started off on our long grind. 
 
 Then followed the most touching tribute that the 
 Batter}^ ever received in all its long penance in 
 France, a tribute to the consideration, the decency, 
 the good fellowship of our men. As we formed our 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 213 
 
 column and started up the road, there was a general 
 rush on the part of the inhabitants out into the street, 
 and we found ourselves in the center of a great storm 
 of "adieu", "au revoir", and "bon voyage." With 
 tears running down their cheeks the women waved 
 madly to us, crying incoherent messages to the boys 
 whom they knew best, while the men, more self-con- 
 tained, stood silently watching, darting forward now 
 and then to exchange a hearty grip with some friend 
 in O. D. "Bonne chance, mon ami, et au revoir." 
 As we neared the crossroad where we must turn our 
 backs on Varennes forever, an old woman, her voice 
 shaking with emotion, cried out, "Non, non c'est pas 
 adieu, c'est au revoir; vous reviendrez, tous, mes 
 enfants!" 
 
 Adieu to Varennes. Silently we turned and swung 
 off down the long road toward La Ferte, the most 
 dour of us strangely moved by this touching fare- 
 well on the part of those whose cheery good-fellow- 
 ship had done so much to make bearable the dreary 
 weeks of waiting. 
 
 The hike from Varennes to Vitry was an event 
 to be long remembered. Thirty black kilometers over 
 a frozen road, with heavy packs on our backs, and the 
 halts maddening rare. La Ferte, our detraining 
 point, was passed, the men casting wistful glances 
 at the station, wondering why the powers that be 
 had seen it necessary to send us to Vitry, to give us 
 a hike of thirty kilometers instead of sixteen. At last 
 we swung off the main road, and crept forlornly into 
 Vitry, just as the church bells struck the hour of n)id- 
 night. As far as the eye could reach the tracks wer^ 
 
214 BATTERY A 
 
 illuminated by huge fires around which were huddled 
 the men who had been lucky enough to escape the 
 hike by riding down in trucks. The leaping flames, 
 the shifting shadows of the men, the black night 
 which seemed to surge in, then to recede as the fires 
 waned and waxed, gave a wierd, unreal effect, like 
 Dores' wild conception of the Inferno. Along this 
 blazing avenue we marched, and found, to our dis- 
 gust, that we must wait for our train in a spot far 
 distant from the fires. Shelter at Vitry station was 
 scarce as shelter in Death Valley, so, swathed like 
 Bedouins in our blankets, we hunched up in miser- 
 able groups, our backs to the damp bitter wind, and 
 sought consolation in the thought that "it wouldn't 
 last forever." It didn't, but it was two in the morning 
 before a train pulled in. We slipped into our packs in 
 a non-committal manner, perfectly prepared to hear 
 that this train was not ours. But it was, the fates 
 favoring us, and we marched up the ramp again, past 
 the friendly flaring fires, and clambered into our cars. 
 The allowance of straw was insufficient; presently 
 from each car a dark figure slipped forth and vanished 
 into the night, to return in a most undignified haste, 
 staggering under a bale of straw, filched from under 
 the very nose of the R. T. O. Immediately a subdued 
 rustling and thumping filled the air, sounds of straw 
 being straightened out and spread over rough boards. 
 Another five minutes of restless shifting and turning 
 and A Battery was at home. Allons ! 
 
 Next morning found us well on our way across 
 France, at a speed which promised a daylight entrain- 
 ing. Bourges was passed, and noon found us at St. 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 215 
 
 Pierre des Corps, a suburb of Tours. Here we had 
 a long halt; coffee was served by the Red Cross, and 
 life took on a far brighter aspect. Seated in car 
 doors, the lighter spirits of the Battery passed the 
 time by commenting on the M. P.'s, the R. T. O. and 
 similar inoffensive beings. "Who won the war?" 
 some wit would shout, whereupon thirty voices would 
 answer as one, "The M. P.'s. One M. P. rashly tried 
 to argue, but was quickly routed and retired in dis- 
 order amid a storm of exultant howls. The appear- 
 ance of Q. M. C. men instantly brought forth the song 
 "Mother, Pull in Your Service Flag, Your Son's in 
 the S. O. S.," to the tune of *:*Where do we go from 
 here," a sprightly song, but rather unfair to the highly 
 essential S. O. S. 
 
 While we waited, a passenger train drew up be- 
 tween us and the station. The door of a first class 
 compartment opened and out popped a "Y" man. 
 Beaming all over, with outstretched hand he ad- 
 vanced toward our cars. In the mind of the Battery, 
 an outstretched Y. M. C. A. hand can mean but one 
 thing; so those men at the doors dug down into their 
 pockets with sighs of resignation, and tossed five- 
 centime pieces to the approaching Red Triangle man 
 who fled under this novel barrage. 
 
 Toward four in the afternoon our train pulled out, 
 to the obvious relief of the M. P.'s, and R. T. O., and 
 away we jolted on the last lap of our journey. Six 
 o'clock, and our train slowed down, halted, and at a 
 blast from the top-sergeant's whistle, out we tum- 
 bled, giving silent thanks that it was still light, for 
 
216 BATTERY A 
 
 there is nothing so confusing as detraining in the 
 dark. 
 
 Details quickly threw off what was left of the 
 regimental equipment, and we marched away through 
 the fast-gathering dusk. We did not go far; a sort 
 of sunken terrace behind the station proved to be our 
 objective, and here we threw off our packs and 
 waited. 
 
 The hours passed slowly, but at last the long-ex- 
 pected whistle shrilled in the close-pressing dark- 
 ness, and glad to put an end to this inaction, we stum- 
 bled to our feet, clutching our packs, and fell in. We 
 struggled up the terrace bank and, stumbling across 
 the railroad tracks, started up a long dark street. 
 Ahead of us shone many brightly lighted windows, 
 while a tall, slender church spire, unreal and shim- 
 mering in the light of the new-risen moon, seemed to 
 shift and sway over the town. Up the street we went, 
 passing shop after shop, wondering which of the 
 world's biggest cities this was, and finally marched 
 out into a vast square. At one end was the church, 
 a handsome Gothic structure; a fountain surmounted 
 by a fine statue representing republican France, 
 spouted and gurgled in the center, while around the 
 sides ran a belt of glowing cafes and stores. We 
 gazed in dumb incomprehension at all these wonders, 
 the dominant idea in each mind being, a wish to be 
 billeted in or near this town. That was too good to 
 be seriously considered. We had had our turn at 
 Varennes. 
 
 Crossing the square, we plunged into the Stygian 
 mouth of a side street, shut in by tall, solid looking 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 217 
 
 buildings, three stories at least in height, and half 
 way up this street we halted. Seated on the curb- 
 stone, we wondered at the unexpected generosity of a 
 halt after a short half-kilometer hike. Suddenly, a 
 gasp of astonishment arose, spread down the whole 
 line. A voice in the gloom was making pleasant re- 
 marks about billets! Were we to billet here? Yes, 
 there were the first three sections, filing away into a 
 yawning doorway. Billeted! In this town! Verily 
 the Fates are good ! 
 
 Mayet we found to be a far larger and more mod- 
 ern town than Varennes. There were plenty of 
 stores, there was even a jewelry store, there were 
 four hotels, or rather, inns, where the far-sighted im- 
 mediately engaged rooms for the magnificent sum of 
 one franc per day. The buildings were all more mod- 
 ern than those at Varennes, and a general air of mod- 
 erate prosperity pervaded the whole town. Our bil- 
 lets it must be confessed, were inferior to those at 
 Varennes. We were more crowded, and though most 
 sections were lodged in vacant houses, none were so 
 unfortunate as to revel in the luxury of a furnished 
 house. And the poor Special Detail, occupants of the 
 most luxurious billet in Varennes, found themselves 
 in a dark draughty loft, whose roof was addicted to 
 the extremely annoying habit of leaking. 
 
 Foot drill was the rule again, and all the Regiment 
 splashed about the low-lying fields of Mayet, in a 
 state of stony boredom. 
 
 Rumors were running in a most erratic manner, 
 placing our stay in Mayet anywhere from two weeks 
 to two and three months and the regimental morale 
 
218 BATTERY A 
 
 ebbed and flowed accordingly. Our chief dread now 
 was to be sent to the concentration camp at Le Mans 
 to be de-cootie-ized and otherwise purified. For 
 there, robbed of all creature comforts, we should 
 dwell in draughty tents in a sea of mud, and go 
 through unheard-of tortures and humiliation to be 
 cleansed of our unwelcome but persistent visitors. 
 Rumor, on this score, pointed to the Le Mans camp 
 as an absolute certainty, but was erratic in regard 
 to the date. 
 
 The regiment stretched every nerve in an effort 
 to be cootie-less before the day of our final departure. 
 Each battery set up its private cootie-bath establish- 
 ment, and the men went through the cleansing process 
 over and over again. Informal inspections were held, 
 and soon reports began to drift in that such and such 
 a battery had only five men who still suffered from 
 friend cootie; that so many sections of a certain bat- 
 tery were absolutely "clean," and so on. It began to 
 develop into a sort of competition, and as usual, A 
 Battery was well to the front. 
 
 Rumors of a gigantic review of the entire Division 
 to take place near Ecommoy, some eight kilometers 
 away, were soon confirmed in orders which gave the 
 added information that the review would be for the 
 benefit of General Pershing. Naturally, following 
 the receipt of this order, the entire 51st Brigade in- 
 dulged in a great number of practice reviews, the 
 men appearing with packs and steel helmets. Every- 
 one participated, even the football players, who, 
 rooted out of a life of peace and meditation, were 
 flung back into the menial maelstrom of foot-drill. 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 2l0 
 
 The day of the Review was cold and bleak, with 
 gusts of rain falling* at distressingly frequent inter- 
 vals. We plodded disgustedly on through Pontval- 
 lain, our only thought being to get this latest ordeal 
 over with as soon as possible. Each man carried a 
 two-blanket pack, his steel helmet and gas-mask, and 
 a canteen full of water. In addition to this and by 
 way of consolation, inside each pack was tucked a 
 bacon sandwich, supposed to nourish and cheer the 
 tired soldier through the long hours of waiting. 
 
 After we had toiled over the hard road for what 
 seemed to be an interminable length of time, through 
 the intermittent but discouraging drizzle, the column 
 turned off the main road and wound along through 
 dense pine wood to emerge at last upon a broad open 
 field, fairly level, and covered with short, crisp turf, 
 the Ecommoy rifle range. 
 
 Already the field was partially covered by steel- 
 helmeted troops, the brilliant red guidons marking 
 the artillery regiments, while the sombre gleam of 
 the blued bayonets indicated the infantry and the am- 
 munition trains. Across this wide space we marched, 
 now stepping across a tiny brook, now leaping a shal- 
 low trench, until we reached the extreme left of the 
 field where we faced about in column of platoons and 
 settled ourselves for the long wait which was bound 
 to come. All through the long hours, heavy masses 
 of fresh troops poured onto the field, forming in 
 platoon columns on our right, a sombre, shifting mass, 
 unrelieved by any splash of brilliance save where the 
 instruments of the massed bands of the Division 
 twinkled dimly in the dull noontime light. 
 
220 BATTERY A 
 
 Shortly after one o'clock a huge gray- limousine, 
 rolling and pitching over the uneven ground, slid 
 jerkily onto the field and stopped. Attention was 
 blown, and the review began. Mounted on a mag- 
 nificent horse, General Pershing rode at a gallop 
 around the huge, solid square formed by the Division, 
 and completing his tour, dismounted and proceeded 
 to make a more detailed inspection, going between 
 the ranks of each platoon. 
 
 As this was a lengthy procedure, and the General 
 started on the extreme right of the line, we were put 
 at ease, and watched the review with great interest. 
 It was an impressive sight. Away on our right, for 
 at least a kilometer, stretched the dull, rigid mass of 
 olive drab, the regimental and national colors, now 
 unfurled, snapping in the light breeze, over the clus- 
 tered bayonets which shimmered dully under the 
 cloudy sky. Now and then we could catch a brighter 
 gleam from the bands which were playing Sambre 
 et Meuse, thundering out the magnificent chords of 
 the soul-stirring French march. Suddenly attention 
 was called and before we realized it. General Per- 
 shing was passing through our ranks, stopping now 
 and then to question some wearer of a wound-stripe, 
 but always hurrying, hurrying on under the cold, un- 
 responsive gaze of the ranks, as though he were per- 
 forming some boresome task which must be quickly 
 done. 
 
 Patiently we stood through the long ceremony 
 of decoration, waiting dully for the final breakup. As 
 we watched, a great hush came over the field, then a 
 whistle shrilled, and the bands struck up a lively 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 221 
 
 march. Far off on the right could be perceived a 
 slight motion, then before we realized it, the whole 
 Division moved, forming rapidly into a huge thick 
 column, a rustling drab carpet of round helmets and 
 coldly shining bayonets. As each regiment passed 
 the reviewing stand, it broke into a brisk run, swept 
 up over a bank and vanished on the other side, wave 
 after wave surging and breaking over the grassy 
 barrier. The review was over. 
 
 A day or so after the review, rifles were issued, 
 a calamity which had hung over us for weeks. Put- 
 ting two and two together, the pessimists slunk about 
 commiserating with anyone who would listen: "We'll 
 sure go to Germany now; tough luck after getting 
 orders to go home!" 
 
 As usual, events didn't follow rumor at all, and 
 on we stayed, learning the manual of arms, trying to 
 do "Squads right" without awkward entanglements 
 of firearms on the part of the front and rear ranks. 
 In the intervals when we were not drilling, we hunted 
 the elusive cootie, who was fast becoming a minus 
 quantity, and spent pleasant hours in the cafes or 
 with our French friends. The inhabitants of Mayet 
 were a little distant when we first entered the town, 
 the situation being much like that at Gery. Before 
 we left, however, we were on as intimate a footing 
 with the inhabitants as we had been at Varennes. 
 
 As the middle of March approached, rumors ma- 
 terialized into orders, vague at first, but more and 
 more definite as the days went on. Embarkation of- 
 ficers inspected our equipment, rifles were turned in, 
 and a concentrated drive was launched against the 
 
222 BATTERY A 
 
 few remaining cooties. At last, final orders came; 
 we were to leave Mayet for Brest on March 26. Men 
 on furlough were recalled, all leaves were cancelled, 
 and one last rush finished up the remaining paper 
 work. Strange to say, there was no wild demonstra- 
 tion at the receipt of these orders. We had waited 
 too long; the keen edge was taken off our joy and we 
 wer^ almost apathetic about our approaching move. 
 After all, what was there to exult about? We were 
 ordered to Brest. Rumors and signs pointed to a 
 short stay there. So had signs and rumors indicated 
 a short stay in Mayet, two weeks at the most; and 
 how long had we been here? Nearly two months. So 
 might we be two months in Brest, exchanging our 
 congenial surroundings for a draughty tent in a huge 
 muddy camp. 
 
 On March 20 came an order postponing our de- 
 parture from Mayet till the 27th, a change greeted 
 with grunts of indifference. A month before such 
 an order would have called forth a howl of indigna- 
 tion, but now it was different. We merely delayed 
 preparations and dully wondered if we ever would 
 move. 
 
 The day of our departure saw us rise before dawn, 
 police our quarters feverishly, roll our packs after a 
 hurried breakfast, march to the station — and wait 
 there three hours for our train. Tumbling on board 
 in great haste, we started on this, the last lap of our 
 pilgrimages over the French railroads. 
 
 Barring the cold, for the cootie-breeding straw 
 was strictly prohibited, our trip was most comfort- 
 able. Attached to the train was a kitchen-car, a new 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 223 
 
 institution for us, which fed us royally on steak, 
 fresh biscuit, and hot coffee, instead of our usual 
 train diet of canned roast beef and hardtack. Verily, 
 things were beginning auspiciously. 
 
 Morning of March 28 saw us gliding smoothly 
 along the Breton coast, whose ragged hills opened 
 now and then, allowing us glimpses of the sea, to 
 many their first glimpse since September, 1917. Noon 
 and we were in Brest, looking out over the harbor 
 from our car doors, wondering which of the big liners 
 riding at anchor beyond the breakwater could be 
 ours and when the moment, dreamed of for months, 
 would come when we should go on board. 
 
 Behind us lay a labyrinth of wooden buildings, 
 all bearing the magic word "Embarkation", — the em- 
 barkation Mess-hall, the Embarkation Offices, the 
 Embarkation Hospital. Repeating that soul-satisfy- 
 ing word to ourselves, we slowly clambered out of 
 our cars and piled our packs on the station platform. 
 The first move was cheering. We lined up, armed 
 with our mess-kits, and were marched into the yawn- 
 ing maze of the Embarkation Mess-Hall. Surely this 
 presaged a hasty meal and immediate embarkation. 
 Otherwise, why not wait till we reached the camp on 
 the interior and mess at the kitchen there? Hope- 
 fully we crowded past the serving-tables and were 
 issued our meal with a speed which for the American 
 Army was surprising. Five thousand men could be 
 fed in an hour by this remarkable system, we were 
 told. 
 
 As sort of a desert to this surprising meal, we 
 started off, sac-a-dos, through the steep winding 
 
224 BATTERY A 
 
 streets of Brest, following the sign which pointed to- 
 ward Camp Pontanezen, our destination. It was a 
 gorgeous day, warm and springlike; ahead of us, 
 crowning a low, gently swelling hill was an orderly 
 array of barracks and tents, stretching as far as the 
 eye could reach, Camp Pontaneze-n. 
 
 A huge place we found it, row after row of Adrian 
 barracks, of tents, with here and there some huge 
 wooden structure which loomed above its smaller 
 neighbors as an ocean liner overshadows its bevy of 
 tugs. We came to an area that was devoted entirely 
 to tents, and here we halted. Behold, our new homes ! 
 And good homes they were, each tent containing a 
 wooden floor, a stove and only six beds; six beds with 
 real mattresses; no overcrowding, no suffering from 
 cold. This was the terrible Brest camp we had heard 
 so much about. 
 
 The rest of the day passed quietly enough, though 
 we were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness for 
 anything that might occur. We messed in a kitchen 
 like that at the station, and soon after rolled up in our 
 blankets on the hard but welcome mattresses. 
 
 Next day saw a feverish activity in our camp. 
 The glorious sun which greeted our arrival had given 
 place to a steady drizzle, through which we tramped 
 to the camp cootie-baths. Filing in between rows of 
 benches in one of the huge buildings we had noted 
 the day before, we stripped and were hastily exam- 
 ined for cooties by rows of harassed looking medical 
 officers. Following this, having thrown away our 
 underwear, we moved on to the next torture, a tor- 
 ture known as the kerosene bath. In a vast room 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 225 
 
 with a slatted floor we shivered under lukewarm 
 streams of a mixture of kerosene and water, a sick- 
 ening, slimy fluid. Rushing- from there into a species 
 of refrigerating plant, we were liberally daubed with 
 a noxious liquid whose base was vinegar. Oily and 
 subdued, we filed by a long counter where clean un- 
 derwear was given us, and dressing hurriedly, trooped 
 sadly back to camp, wondering if it were safe to 
 smoke when one felt like a lampwick. 
 
 Afternoon brought orders to embark on the fol- 
 lowing morning. They were received v^ith placid sat- 
 isfaction, but no wild clamor, for, as at Mayet, we 
 had been expecting it too long to feel any great exult- 
 ation. This order brought a new form of penance, 
 a full pack inspection. 
 
 Before starting out, we were warned that the lack 
 of even a piece of soap, or a mirror might hold up the 
 whole Regiment ; everyone filled his pockets with ex- 
 tras in case some unfortunate should find himself 
 minus some bit of equipment. With cheering possi- 
 bility of missing our chance to embark, we trudged 
 off under our packs to the quarter of the camp where 
 we had been deloused. Marching through various 
 runways and corridors, we ended up in a large hall, 
 where sundry nervous inspecting officers looked over 
 our packs, without making us even take them off, 
 seeming much more interested in uniformity of ap- 
 pearance than in completeness of equipment. Back 
 in our tents again, we unrolled our packs, and won- 
 dered what the Inquisition would order next. 
 
 A storm of warnings in regard to our conduct was 
 the next excitement. Our innocent curiosity in re- 
 
226 BATTERY A 
 
 gard to who won the war must be curbed. As an ex- 
 ample of what would happen in case our inquisitive- 
 ness got the better of us, we were told of a division 
 being pulled off a transport for asking an M. P. that 
 innocuous question. The many Marines in camp must 
 not be jeered; a word about Chateau-Thierry might 
 mean months in France for us. In fact, the whole 
 procedure was much like some old-fashioned nurse 
 frightening her small charge with the story of the 
 ^'bad little boy who wouldn't tell the truth and was 
 eaten up by bears." 
 
 Keeping in mind the bears, in the form of embark- 
 ation inspectors, we were a silent lot as we trooped 
 off for the last time through the long streets of Camp 
 Pontanezen. Clearing the camp, we breathed more 
 freely, and a few of the more daring spirits exchanged 
 furtive whispers on the subject of packs. Down the 
 steep hills of Brest we went, forgetting the weight 
 of our packs, as the harbor came in view, but never a 
 sound did we make. Silently, steadily we passed the 
 fortifications, gray, ponderous masses of hewn stone, 
 built before the First Empire, and with a thrill of 
 joy, marched into the long echoing sheds at the decks. 
 
 Here we waited while the Red Cross distributed 
 socks filled with cigarettes and chocolates. Still sub- 
 dued, after an interval of half an hour, we filed si- 
 lently past a latticed window. A gruff-voiced per- 
 son, presumably a bear, called out our numbers, and 
 we emerged into the open air, at the head of a gang- 
 plank. 
 
 Packed on lighters, we slid quietly out of Brest 
 harbor, past the long breakwater and finally came 
 
FIGHTING THE ARMISTICE 227 
 
 alongside a huge liner bearing on its stern the name 
 "SS Agememnon". Wide doors were opened in its 
 side, and into these we poured. 
 
 At last we had shaken the mud of France from our 
 feet. Eighteen months and twenty-three days had 
 passed since we had seen America, and now our wild- 
 est dream was being realized — we were going home. 
 For all those months "home" for us had meant a 
 French barn, a dugout, a pup-tent, a shell-hole — we 
 had scarce dared to look further ahead than that — 
 and now those long months sank into insignificance 
 as the realization surged in upon us that we were 
 going Home, Home, Home. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOME 
 
 March 30, 1919— April 29, 1919 
 
 /^UR quarters on board the Agamemnon could 
 ^^ hardly be described as roomy; all partitions be- 
 low deck had been torn up, and the space filled with 
 tiers of steel framed bunks, five deep. Every bit of 
 available space had been utilized, and there was 
 hardly room to turn around. Gloomily picturing 
 what these quarters would be like on a rough day, 
 we seized our mess-kits and started up on deck. "Eat, 
 drink and be merry, for tomorrow it may be rough." 
 Noon of March 31. We have been jammed through 
 the mess-line (of which more later) and are crowded 
 about the deck, watching the feverish activity of part 
 of the crew; starting nervously when some coarse 
 voice bellows unintelligible orders in our very ears, 
 for our departure is imminent and we tremble even 
 now, lest some vile freak of chance stay our progress. 
 The windlasses squawk and creak, the anchor chains 
 rattle harshly, and a dull, persistent throbbing sets 
 the whole ship's frame quivering; the engines! 
 Slowly, imperceptibly at first, but with gathering im- 
 petus, we creep from the harbor. Ten minutes more 
 and we have passed the last far-reaching finger of 
 land, la Pointe de St. Mathieu. Adieu, France ! May 
 our next visit to your hospitable shores be peaceful, 
 and untinged with O. D. 
 
HOME 229 
 
 Life on the "Agamemnon" was quiet enough. 
 There were days of rolling and pitching, when even 
 Death Valley at its worst seemed preferable to this 
 strength-sapping waste of waters. The chief annoy- 
 ance of the voyage was that not unimportant feature, 
 mess. There were nearly five thousand men on board, 
 and they were all fed at the same time. Promptly 
 at mess-call, all the outfits on the boat lined up and 
 those on the upper deck started through the line: 
 "A" Battery was unfortunate enough to be the last 
 to go through; we lined up at mess-call, we waited 
 anywhere from one to two hours. Inch by inch we 
 edged along the deck, finally reaching a door amid- 
 ships. Here there was another wait, while the head 
 of the line started down, six at a time. From the 
 door one went down two flights of stairs, through a 
 corridor, down another flight, directly into the serv- 
 ing room. Here one emerged into a Babel of howl- 
 ing voices, urging speed and still more speed; passed 
 between the serving-tables, where the food was deftly 
 slung into the mess-kits; and started up a steep flight 
 of stairs, slippery with the spillings from the mess- 
 kits of those who had gone before. No mean feat to 
 ascend those steps on a rough day. Arriving at the 
 top, a fresh difficulty presented itself, for a precisely 
 similar flight, but more slippery, led down into the 
 dining-room. Assuming that the passage was safely 
 negotiated, the unfortunate diner stumbled over to 
 the tables, mere wooden trays, suspended from the 
 ceiling, row after row. Nothing could be more ex- 
 hilarating than a venture into this "madhouse", as we 
 called it, on a rough day. The trays swayed and 
 
230 BATTERY A 
 
 swung, now toward, now away from the "ultimate 
 consumer", who dodged and clutched at his errant 
 repast. It is said that nothing is really pleasure-giv- 
 ing unless it is worked for. Figuring on this basis 
 we ought to have enjoyed our meals on the "Agam- 
 emnon" as never before ; but few were heard to speak 
 of the cuisine with any apparent enthusiasm. 
 
 The "Agamemnon" nosed its way cautiously 
 through a thick fog. Perched on every conceivable 
 point of vantage, were eager figures in O. D., peer- 
 ing intently ahead, striving to pierce the feathery 
 cloud which covered the sea. It was April 7, and we 
 were due to dock at noon, not in a strange port, but 
 in Boston, the city of our dreams, our home! We 
 stared out to sea, and cursed the mist which shut off 
 the outside world from our view. Toward noon the 
 fog lifted a Httle and, suddenly, as we strained our 
 eyes for a sight of the still hidden land, we caught the 
 dull, regular throb of engines through fog, growing 
 more loud. Presently a vague, dark shape appeared 
 in the lightening curtain of mist, growing ever 
 clearer till suddenly it seemed to burst forth from its 
 white shroud, and leap toward us over the water. It 
 was a small steamer, decked and flaunting with flags 
 and pennants. On its foredeck a band was blaring 
 out a march which we could vaguely hear. 
 
 A wild yell leapt from the packed decks of the 
 "Agamemnon." For us, this tiny steamer symbolized 
 home, America, and we cheered and waved as though 
 the Customs House Tower were in sight. 
 
 Close on the heels of the steamer followed the 
 pilot-boat and a small fleet of submarine chasers, 
 
HOME 231 
 
 which darted hither and thither about the huge liner, 
 their crews leaping about the decks in a frenzy of ex- 
 citement. Then the chasers swung into line and slid 
 in a wave-splitting column beside our ship. 
 
 In a golden glow from the ever-brightening sun, 
 We passed up the outer harbor, whose shores the 
 clinging mist still hid, till suddenly Deer Island leapt 
 forth, glowing in the noontide sun, and with it the 
 whole inner harbor with Boston looming up in the 
 background. 
 
 A swarm of excursion-steamers, ferries, tugs, and 
 launches hitherto hidden by the mist crowded around 
 the "Agamemnon", that grim, battered veteran of 
 the seas, looking every inch the ship to carry battered 
 veteran troops. Packed on the decks of the smaller 
 craft were hundreds of friends of the Regiment, 
 eager to be the first to welcome it home. 
 
 As we hung over the side of the now motionless 
 "Agamemnon", seeking to discern some familiar face 
 in the throng that surrounded us, we caught sight of 
 an erect, motionless, gray-haired figure standing on 
 the upper deck of a small steamer. He was clad in 
 the overseas uniform and on his cap we could barely 
 make out two silver stars; there was something 
 strangely familiar about this silent, motionless, man, 
 and we stared wonderingly till suddenly the light of 
 recognition seemed to burst upon all the home-comers 
 simultaneously. A wild shout, spreading along the 
 whole ship, seemed to tear across the water to the 
 tiny steamer. "General Edwards!" 
 
 Midafternoon and the "Agamemnon" was in mo- 
 tion again, nosing slowly among this bedlam of whis- 
 
232 BATTERY A 
 
 ties, till Commonwealth Pier loomed alongside. The 
 pier was thronged with madly cheering people, sol- 
 diers and civilians. Many of the former wore the 
 familiar YD and the red discharge stripe, wounded 
 men who had been invalided home before the ar- 
 mistice. 
 
 A gangplank went down and was immediately 
 covered with a hurrying swarm of newspapermen 
 and lucky holders of passes. In placid contentment 
 we gazed longingly down at the crowded pier, at the 
 buildings crowded close to the water's edge — we were 
 at home! 
 
 Little sleep for us that night. The following 
 morning we were to disembark, and that thought 
 alone was enough to keep us awake, let alone the 
 din and clangor of the tireless derricks which worked 
 all through the night discharging the cargo from the 
 hold. 
 
 Sunrise found us on deck, packs made, waiting 
 eagerly for the order to pass off to the pier. At last 
 the order came, and we filed impatiently along the 
 deck to our gangplank, chafing at the least delay, 
 until, with a surge of relief, our feet struck the hard 
 concrete of the dock. A band, hammering away for 
 dear life, sent its music echoing down the long cov- 
 ered shed, while we performed sundry eccentric evo- 
 lutions which swung us into line along one wall of 
 the shed. 
 
 Off went all the packs, and cups were produced as 
 by magic from the depths of canteen covers, for a 
 swarm of Red Cross workers bore down on us with 
 huge cans of coffee and trays of buns. 
 
HOME 233 
 
 Breakfast over, we sat down to wait for our next 
 move, not caring particularly when it might come. 
 We were at home and that was the main point; the 
 rest would take care of itself. 
 
 Time passed, the order was given, and we filed 
 oflf in column of twos, down a long flight of stairs 
 into the trainshed of the pier. Loaded with gifts 
 from various War Relief societies, we climbed gin- 
 gerly on board the train. No "40 Hommes, 8 Chev- 
 aux" this time ! Real American day-coaches and each 
 man had a seat to himself! Luxuriously we placed 
 our packs on the baggage racks and sank, with moans 
 of pleasure, onto our soft cushions. 
 
 The train glided slowly out of the pier, through 
 the railroad yards amid a shrieking of whistles, and 
 soon Boston was left behind. We were not alone, 
 though, for it seemed that every inch of track was 
 lined with waving, cheering people, and whenever the 
 train slowed down, pies and cakes of all descriptions 
 were passed in through the car windows. The tiniest 
 station had its excited representatives, and at Fram- 
 ingham, we found a veritable mob of welcomers. All 
 the way to Ayer it was the same story, an almost con- 
 tinuous line of people. 
 
 So this is what New England thinks of the 26th! 
 
 The train bumped and jolted through the yards at 
 Ayer, finally coming to a smooth halt near some 
 buildings, whose every line said unmistakably "U. S. 
 Army." Slowly, as though we feared that it was all 
 a dream, we climbed out of the train, and fell in, half 
 dazed, on a smooth asphalt road, and marched away, 
 possessed by a strong feeling of unreality. It was 
 
234 BATTERY A 
 
 many days before we could actually grasp the fact 
 that we were home again. 
 
 Our first quarters at Camp Devens were not lux- 
 urious. Tents, much like those at Brest, with folding 
 canvas cots, served as billets for our first two days in 
 camp. As an earnest, however, of what was coming, 
 we messed in a wooden barrack, steamheated and lit 
 by electricity, a marvel of ease and comfort, we 
 thought. 
 
 Disgustedly we learned that we must pass through 
 cootie baths and have our clothes sterilized before 
 occupying wooden barracks. It seemed unnecessary 
 to us, for the battery was 100 per cent, cootie-less 
 when it left Brest. Resignedly we said, "C'est la 
 guerre," and passed into the baths. Our clothes were 
 bundled up in oiir blankets and shot into steam ovens, 
 while we rushed past a line of medical officers, hur- 
 ried through a lukewarm shower, and then, clad in 
 long wrappers, waited for our clothes to be taken 
 from the steam ovens. At last they came out. What 
 a sight! Blouses that had gone in newly pressed and 
 unwrinkled, came forth a mass of folds and creases, 
 while the "Medico" in charge of the ovens joined his 
 two assistant apostles in cheerfully assuring us that 
 the creases couldn't be ironed out. Nice man. 
 
 That night the first lot of passes were given out, 
 and the fortunates rushed out of Devens, bound for 
 seventy-two hours at home, their ardor slightly damp- 
 ened by the fantastic appearance of their uniforms. 
 
 When they returned, they found the Battery bus- 
 ily doing nothing and comfortably lodged in wooden 
 barracks, accommodations of a splendor we never 
 
HOME 235 
 
 dared dream of: spring beds, mattresses, electric 
 lights, steam-heat, hot water, a mess-hall and kitchen 
 on the first floor, showers in an out-building not a 
 dozen feet away. This was a good war now, we 
 decided. 
 
 Little attempt was made at any work till the week 
 before the Divisional Review, which was scheduled 
 for the 22nd of April, when we brushed up on foot 
 drill and put our equipment in order. 
 
 The Divisional Review at Devens was much like 
 that at Ecommoy, and was regarded throughout the 
 Battery as a decided bore. Remembering, however, 
 that it was New England's first glimpse of its own 
 division en masse, we suffered through as best we 
 could, standing in column of batteries while the colors 
 were decorated. The final breakup, impressive as it 
 must have been to the on-lookers, was to us only a 
 sign that one monotonous and irksome task was out 
 of the way. Now to get that confounded thing to 
 look forward to, our discharges on that magic day, 
 the twenty-ninth of April. 
 
 The Division Parade turned out to be more or 
 less of a trial for us. We struggled out of bed at the 
 unholy hour of four and were finally packed on trains 
 by eight o'clock. All the way down to Boston our 
 journey was enlivened by train boys selling cigar- 
 ettes, candy, etc. Whenever one of the unfortunates 
 ventured into a car, he was greeted by a shout of 
 "Normal Barrage," and subjected to a vigorous 
 shower of miscellaneous objects. Deeply grieved, he 
 would pass on, hoping for kinder treatment in the 
 next car. 
 
236 BATTERY A 
 
 We detrained at Charlestown, to find a bitter wind 
 sweeping the city, and the sun completely hidden by 
 a malicious blanket of clouds. We marched away, 
 gloomily speculating on the length of time we should 
 wait in this arctic weather. The fears of even the 
 most pessimistic were justified for we halted on Brim- 
 mer Street, and it was four hours or more before we 
 started along the line of march. 
 
 The Red Cross gave us box lunches which ab- 
 sorbed our minds for a while, but, oh, how that wind 
 swept up the street. Some few were fortunate enough 
 to obtain liquid refreshments, and remained happily 
 oblivious to the torments and tortures of the ele- 
 ments. 
 
 Shortly after two o'clock the welcome order was 
 given, and we started off, in platoon columns. The 
 parade has been too widely described to make a de- 
 tailed account necessary here. The Battery's experi- 
 ence was much Hke that of other units. As we 
 couldn't hear the band, good marching was difficult 
 We were showered with cigars, cigarettes, etc., all 
 along the line of march, and we nearly started a new 
 casualty list when we were given a long stretch of 
 double time on Commonwealth Avenue. 
 
 Chilled and tired, we gratefully crept in through 
 the hospitable doors of the Commonwealth Armory, 
 the Battery's "Old Homestead," where we found cots, 
 blankets, and comforters waiting for us in the small 
 riding ring. Leave was granted until midnight and 
 an indifferent guard posted at the doors, apparently 
 to impart a military atmosphere to the scene, for no 
 orders were issued in regard to the guard's duties. 
 
HOME 237 
 
 When we returned to Devens, we found events 
 moving- rapidly. We filled out innumerable papers, 
 signed great batches of irrelevant cards, and were 
 finally marched away for our final physical exam. 
 
 This took place in a large barrack whose interior 
 was divided into a myriad of twisting corridors and 
 lanes. In a state of nature, we pattered through this 
 labyrinth, being pounced upon every few moments 
 by a semi-hostile Minotaur, disguised as a medical 
 officer who, after examining his catch for whatever 
 disease or deformity he thought fit, gave minute di- 
 rections for finding the next Minotaur, and waited 
 patiently for his next prey. This process was re- 
 peated until we had all been captured and examined at 
 least a dozen times; each was then given a sort of cer- 
 tificate saying that the bearer had braved the horrors 
 of the labyrinth and came forth unscathed. 
 
 On "J Day" at "H" hour, in other words, Thurs- 
 day, April 29, at 7.30 A. M., the Battery rushed eag- 
 erly toward its objective, the tiny barrack where the 
 discharges were to be given out. There was an air 
 of suppressed excitement along the column, for this 
 was our last day in the army. Another hour or at 
 most two hours, would see us free men. The only di- 
 version occurred while passing a recruiting office 
 where two would-be comedians rushed toward the 
 building, loudly expressing their intention of reen- 
 listing. This attempt at humor was greeted in sombre 
 silence, for the Battery felt that this was no subject 
 for idle jest. 
 
 We reached our destination early and learned 
 with placid resignation that two outfits who had not 
 
238 BATTERY A 
 
 yet arrived were to be discharged ahead of us. A 
 wordy war ensued, during which we patiently sat 
 down and waited. For once, right conquered and 
 the principle of ''First come, first served" was ad- 
 hered to. 
 
 With wild hoots of joy, we scrambled to our feet 
 and lined up outside the building, dancing about with 
 impatience as the slow moving line hitched its way 
 through the building. No one felt absolutely safe till 
 the precious discharge paper was firmly clutched in 
 his hand. 
 
 The process was simple enough. We entered the 
 building, which was partitioned off like a bank, with 
 various windows, behind each of which lurked a stony 
 faced acolyte of the great god Red Tape. As each 
 soldier approached the first window, an important 
 looking official, a sort of highpriest of the temple, bel- 
 lowed his name; from the first window a mysterious 
 hand thrust forth the discharge; clasping the magic 
 document firmly, he pushed on to the next window, 
 where some form of non-commissioned priest of the 
 temple pushed out a stack of bills, all the pay due to 
 the day of discharge. Clutching madly at this the 
 soldier galloped joyfully out into the open air, to 
 lean exhaustedly against the building, and try to 
 realize that he was free. Little by little the long line 
 edged and sidled its way through the temple of Red 
 Tape, the last man emerged, staring unbelievingly at 
 his discharge papers. 
 
 "Fini la guerre!" Battery A was a thing of the 
 past! 
 
Unnnr Snll 
 
 JOSEPH W. ZWINGE. Severely wounded on April 15. 1918. Died 
 of wounds April 16. Pvt. 1 CI. Zwinge was taking a horse to Bat- 
 talion Hdq. on Fort Liouvillc Hill (near St. Julicn, Toul Sector) 
 when he was caught in a heavy concentration of 150's. A shell splin- 
 ter entered his head above the right eye. He was sent to the Field 
 Hospital, where he died on April 16. He was buried in American 
 Cemetery No. 198, near Commercy. 
 
 DAVIS O. LAWRENCE. Killed in action April 21. 191S, at the Bat- 
 tery position near Boncourt (Toul Sector). Pvt. 1 CI. Lawrence was 
 acting gunner corporal of the first piece. Just as the crnn was being 
 fired a German 150 exploded in the gun pit, instantly killing him. 
 He was buried in the American Cemtery at Vignot, France. 
 
 E. CLIFFORD SAWYER. Killed in action April 21, 1918, at the 
 Battery position near Boncourt (Toul Sector). Pvt. 1 CI. Sawyer 
 was on the first section gun crew witli Lawrence and Rigby. He 
 was instantly killed by the same shell that killed them. He was 
 buried in the American Cemetery at Vignot. 
 
 NORBERT E. RIGBY. Severely wounded April 21, 1918. at the Bat- 
 tery position near Boncourt (Toul Sector). Died of wounds on the 
 way to the hospital. Pvt. 1 CI. Rigby was on the first section gun 
 crew with Lawrence and Sawyer. Lie was very severely wounded 
 by the same shell that killed the other two. He died in the ambu- 
 lance on his way to the hospital. He was buried in the American 
 Cemetery at Vignot. 
 
 E. NEWEL RIPLEY. Killed in action May 27, 1918, at the Bat- 
 tery position at Bernecourt (Toul Sector). The Germans had 
 launched an attack against the 101st Infantry and were shclHng the 
 Battery position very heavily in their efforts to neutralize the gims. 
 Sgt. Ripley, the chief of the third section, was in the act of entering 
 his gun pit when the splinter of a gas shell struck him in the heart, 
 killing him instantly. He was buried in tiie American Cemetery at 
 Menil-La-Tour. 
 
 C. RALPH FARNSWORTH. Killed July 13, 1918. at the Battery 
 position near Paris Farms (Chateau-Thierry Sector). Corp. Farns- 
 worth, the chief of the fourth section, had been firing his gun inter- 
 mittantly all night. Very early in the mornmg of the 13th it blew 
 up, killing him almost immediately. He was buried in the cemetery 
 near Bezu-Le-Gery. 
 
 PHILIP CUNNINGHAM. Killed in action July 19. 1918, at the Bat- 
 tery position in Belleau Woods (Chateau-Thierry Sector). The 
 Battery had made its first move forv/ard in the Aisne-Marne Offen- 
 sive the night before. Pvt. 1 CI. Cunningham was instantly killed 
 when the Batterv position was caught in a heavy concentration of 
 77's. He was buried in the American Cemetery at Bezu-Le-Gery. 
 
240 BATTERY A 
 
 l!|0nor Snll 
 
 LAURENCE B. WILLIAMS. Killed in action July 19, 1918, at the 
 Battery position in Belleau Woods (Chateau-Thierry Sector). Corp. 
 Williams was killed at the same time as Cunningham. When most 
 of the Battery had moved out of the position, owing to the heavy 
 shelling that was going on, he went back to see if any wounded had 
 been left behind, and in so doing was killed. He was buried in the 
 American Cemetery at Bezu-Le-Gery. 
 
 SETH A. ELDRIDGE. Died of wounds July 19, 1918. Pvt. Eldridge 
 was very severely wounded in the same heavy shelling that killed 
 Williams and Cunningham, — in the Belleau Woods position. He 
 died in the 103rd Field Hospital the same day. He was buried in 
 the American Cemetery at La Ferte sous Jouarre. 
 
 CHARLES R. ELLIS. Killed in action July 29, 1918, at the forward 
 echelon in the woods near Preaux Farm, near Beuvardes, in the 
 Aisne-Alarne Offensive when a 150 exploded near him. He was 
 buried in the American Cemetery near La Logette Farm (Beau- 
 vardes). 
 
 EDWARD A. HOOPER. Killed in action July 29, 1918, at the for- 
 ward echelon in the woods near Preaux Farm, near Beuvardes, in 
 the Aisne-Marne Offensive, by the same shell that killed Ellis and 
 Howland. He was buried in the American Cemetery near La 
 Logette Farm (Beuvardes). 
 
 RAYMOND L. HOWLAND. Killed in action July 29, 1918, at the 
 forward echelon in the woods near Preaux Farm, near Beuvardes, 
 in the Aisne-Marne Offensive, by the same shell that killed Ellis and 
 Hooper. He was buried in the American Cemetery near La Logette 
 Farm (Beuvardes). 
 
 ELLERY PEABODY, Jr. Died of wounds Oct. 24, 1918. The faring 
 Battery was moving forward to its advanced position in "Death 
 Valley," near Haumont (Verdun). Sgt. Peabody was walking along 
 near the Park Wagon when a burst of 77's exploded around them. 
 He was very severely wounded by a shell fragment and later died 
 on his way to the hospital. He was buried in the American Cemetery 
 at Verdun. 
 
 CHARLES W. PLUMMER. Killed in action Aug. 11. 1918. Lieut. 
 Plummer, although not a member of Battery A at the time of his 
 death, had been connected with the organization up to Jan., 1918. He 
 was killed in action, while flying with the 88th Aero Squadron, above 
 the Vesle River. He was buried near Chateau-Thierry. He had 
 been awarded both the Croix de Guerre and the Distinguished Serv- 
 ice Cross. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 MEMBERS OF BATTERY "A", lOlST F. A. 
 JULY 25, 1917 — APRIL 29, 1919 
 
 ABBOTT, JOSEPH L Enlisted March 15, 1917. Corporal, June 3, 1917. 
 
 Sgt., May 3, 1918. Mess Sgt., Nov. 12, 1918. Sgt., Feb. 3, 1919, 
 
 Home address. Hotel Canterbury, Boston, Mass. 
 AGNEW, HARRISON P. Enl. Apr. 8, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 16, 
 
 1918. Home address, 624 3rd St., Council Bluffs, Iowa. 
 ALDEN, JOSEPH B. Enl. May 19, 1917. Trans, fr. Coast Artillery, 
 
 Aug. 25, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1918. Home address, Cherry 
 
 Valley, Mass. 
 APOLLONIO, NICHOLAS. Enl. Apr. 8, 1917. Corp., Apr. 24, 1919. 
 
 Home address, 27 Canton Ave., Milton, Mass. 
 ARMAGOST, CLARENCE R. Enl. Sept. 21, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 
 
 17, 1918. Home address. Rising City, Neb. 
 ARNOLD, WILLIAM C. Enl. June 4, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Mar. 1, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 80 Storrs Ave., Braintree, Mass. 
 ATKINSON, ROBT. O. Enl. Nov. 30, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., June 19, 
 
 1918. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1918. Home address. Portage, Wis. 
 AUSTIN, HAROLD R. Enl. May 21, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Aug., 1917. 
 
 Home address, 175 Amory St., Jamaica Plain, Mass. 
 ALLEN, ROLAND E. Enl. May 10, 1917. Corp., Aug. 10, 1917. Sgt., 
 
 June 3, 1918. Home address, Brewster, Mass. 
 BALCH, PAUL C. Enl. Apr, 26, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Detch., 51st F. A. 
 
 Brig., Apr. 15, 1918. Home address, 31 Irma Ave., Watertown, Mass. 
 BAILEY, JOSEPH C. Enl. May 28, 1917. Horse shoer. Home address, 
 
 30 Washburn St., Waterown, Mass. 
 BARBEE, OSCAR J. Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 
 1918. Home address. Linden, Texas. 
 BARLOW, RICHARD B. Enl. Apr. 2, 1917. Home address, 1076 Boyl- 
 
 ston St., Boston. 
 BARNES, JOHN S. Enl. May 9, 1917. Corp., Aug., 1918— Nov., 1918. 
 
 Home address, 33 Magnolia St., Arlington, Mass. 
 BARRY, WILLIAM B. Enl. Aug. 6, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., 1918. Evacuated 
 
 to hospital and dropped from rolls, Sept. 17, 1918. Home address, 
 
 169 Mystic St., Arlington, Mass. 
 BATEMAN, GEORGE W., Jr. Enl. Sept. 1, 1917. A. W. O. L., Oct. 30, 
 
 1918. Dropped from rolls. Home address, 62 Harlow St., Arlington, 
 
 Mass. 
 BARR, HENRY C. Enl. March 26, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st 
 
 F. A., Aug., 1917. Home address, Bennington, N. H. 
 BEAL, ARCHIE H. Enl. May 11, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 25, 1918. 
 
 Pvt., 1 CI., Sept., 1918. Home address, 3128 Second St., Des Moines, 
 
 Iowa. 
 BECK, ALFRED, Jr. Enl. June 1, 1916. Corp., Aug., 1917. Sgt., Dec. 
 
 20, 1917. Trans, to Saumur Art. School, July 28, 1918. Home ad- 
 dress, Jamaica Plain, Mass. 
 BELT, GEORGE. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, Leb- 
 anon, Ind. 
 BIRD, HERBERT C. Enl. July 9, 1917. Corp., Aug. 10, 1917. Home 
 
 address, 29 Monmouth St., Boston, ]^ass. 
 
242 BATTERY A 
 
 BLACKMUR, PAUL. Enl. June 20, 1916. Corp., May, 1917. Sgt., 
 July, 1917. Disch. to accept commission in Regular Army, Nov. 21, 
 
 1917. Home address, 74 Elm St., Quincy, Mass. 
 
 BLOOM, ABRAHAM. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, 
 
 378 Chelsea St., Boston, Mass. 
 BOND, LOWELL. Enl. Mar. 29, 1917. Corp., May 16, 1918. Home ad- 
 dress, 1445 Beacon St., Waban, Mass. 
 BOWERS, EDGAR A. Enl. Aug. 8, 1917. On duty with Brigade Hdq. 
 
 from Aug. 8, 1918. Home address, 6 Alexander St., Framingham, 
 
 Mass. 
 BOWERS, LAWRENCE W. Enl. May 17, 1917. Home address, 22 Ath- 
 
 erton Rd., Brookline, Mass. 
 BOWMAN, WILLIAM E. Enl. May 24, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st 
 
 F. A., Aug. 23, 1917. Home address, 467 Huron Ave., Cambridge, 
 
 Mass. 
 BROWN, EVAN D. Enl. May 23, 1917. Mech., Aug. 10, 1917. Home 
 
 address. Concord St., Framingham, Mass. 
 
 BROWN, LEO D. Enl. May 23, 1917. Trans, to 51st Brig., F. A., Aug. 
 
 24, 1917. Home address, 223 Concord St., Framingham, Mass. 
 BROUGHTON, HENRY W., Jr. Enl. June 19, 1916. Trans, to Hdq., 
 
 101st F. A., Aug., 1917. Died of wounds, Oct. 8, 1918. Home ad- 
 dress, 7 Lakeville PI., Jamaica Plain, Mass. 
 BURNHAM, CLIFFORD G. Enl. Apr. 19, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., June, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 127 Park St., Medford, Mass. 
 BURNS, ROBERT. Enl. June 20, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Oct., 1917. Home 
 
 address, 302 W. 102nd St., New York, N. Y. 
 BUSH, WILLIAM C Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Trans, to Supply Co., 101st 
 
 F. A., Aug. 21, 1918. Home address. Center Point, Texas. 
 CADY, ANSEL. Enl. Apr. 26, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st F. A., 
 
 Nov. 3, 1917. Home address, 15 Gibb St., Brookline, Mass. 
 CALKIN, ERNEST C. Enl. May 16, 1917. Home address, 7 Greylock 
 
 Rd., Allston, Mass. 
 
 CARLSON, LEONARD C. Enl. May 7, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Oct., 
 
 1918. Home address, 1101 Morton Ave., Des Moines, Iowa. 
 
 CAMPBELL, ENOS A. Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 1918. Home address, Stillwell, Okla. 
 
 CARLSON MARTIN L. Enl. July 5, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May, 1918. 
 Home address, Verona, Neb. 
 
 CAMPBELL, JAMES E. Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 1918. Home address, Catoosa, Okla. 
 
 CARLIN, FRANK. Enl. May 24, 1917. Disch. at Boxford, Mass., Aug. 
 31, 1917. Home address, 18 Hamilton St., Readville, Mass. 
 
 CARMICHAEL, ALBERT C. Enl. June 4, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 
 
 25, 1918. Home address, York, Neb. 
 
 CALLAWAY, ELMER C. Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 1918. Evacuated to hospital and dropped from rolls, Oct., 1918. 
 Home address, Dewey, Okla. 
 
 CATTON, PERCY. Enl. June 20, 1916. Corp., Mav, 1917. Sgt., Aug., 
 1917. Returned to U. S. as instructor, July 23, 1918. Home address, 
 6 Cudworth St., Medford, Mass. 
 
 CAVENY, CHARLES. Enl. Julv 14, 1917. Assgd. to Btry. as Corp., 
 Dec, 1918. Home address, 1521 11th St., Altoona, Pa. 
 
APPENDIX 243 
 
 CHANDLER, ARTHUR C. Enl. Apr. 26, 1917. Corp., Nov. 26, 1917. 
 
 Sgt., May 3, 1918. Home address, North Duxbury, Mass. 
 CHAPIN, STUART. Enl. July 9, 1917. On special duty with Divisional 
 
 Entertainment Troop from June, 1918. To Cann. University of 
 
 France, Mar. 1, 1919. Home address, 127 School St., Springfield, 
 
 Mass. 
 CHARLTON, DANIEL A. Enl. Sept. 6. 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., June, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 17 Newark St., Roxbury, Mass. 
 CLARK, JOHN J. Enl. May 24, 1917. Home address, 117 Concord St., 
 
 Framingham, Mass. 
 CLARKE, JAMES F. Enl. Nov. 12, 1908. Corp., Nov. 4, 1911. Sgt., 
 
 Sept. n, 1913. 1st Sgt., Oct. 28, 1915. 2nd Lt., Dec, 1915. 1st Lt., 
 
 Jan. 4, 1917. Returned to U. S. as instructor, July 23, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 15 Brimmer St., Boston, Mass. 
 CLEARY, JOHN J. Enl; Apr. 5, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Mar. 1918. Home 
 
 address, 92 Greaton Rd., W. Roxbury, Mass. 
 COBB, GEORGE W., Jr. Enl. June 26, 1917. To Saumur Art. School, 
 
 June, 1918. Home address, 437 5th Ave., New York, N. Y. 
 COFFIN, ARTHUR G. Enl. May 10, 1917. Disch. at Boxford, Mass., 
 
 July 31, 1917. 
 COLBY, WILLIAM A. Enl. June 7, 1917. Disch. at Boxford, Mass., 
 
 Sept. 5, 1917. Home address, 1537 Washington St., W. Newton, Mass. 
 COLTON, JOSEPH L. Enl. Oct. 15, 1917. Assgd. to Btry. as horse 
 
 shoer, Sept. 24, 1918. Home address, 1813 N. Hancock St., Phila- 
 delphia, Pa. 
 
 CONNELL, EDWARD R. Enl. Mar., 1915. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 1918. Home address, 1301 Orange St., Muscatine, Iowa. 
 
 CONWAY, CHARLES E. Enl. May 24, 1917. Corp., Aug. 28, 1917. 
 Sgt., June 3, 1918. Home address, 122 Babcock St., Brookline, Mass. 
 
 COPE, ALBERT E. Enl. Sept. 21, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 11, 1918. 
 Pvt., 1 CI., June 20, 1918. Home address, 907 Lyndale Ave., Tren- 
 ton, N. J. 
 
 COOK, JAMES O., Jr. Enl. May 21. 1917. Corp., July 3, 1918. Sgt., 
 Oct. 2, 1918. Supply Sgt., Nov. 12, 1918. Home address, 58 Robe- 
 son St., Jamaica Plain, Mass. 
 
 COSGROVE, JOSEPH H. Enl. May 28, 1917. Home address, 61 
 Thomas Park, So. Boston, Mass. 
 
 CUNNINGHAM, PHILIP. Enl. Alarch 23. 1916. Pvt., 1 CI., Aug. 10, 
 1917. Killed in action, July 20, 1918. Home address, Gloucester, 
 Mass. 
 
 CURTIS, STANLEY W. Enl. Apr. 26, 1917. Corp., June 3, 1918. Home 
 address, Scituate, Mass. 
 
 DAZEY, FRANCIS M. H. 2d Lieutenant. Assgd. to Btry., May 5, 1918. 
 Returned to U. S., Aug., 1918. 
 
 DAY, CHAUNCEY M. Enl. April 19, 1917. Corp., Sept. 11, 1918. 
 Home address, 29 Farragut Ave., Medford, Mass. 
 
 DAY, DAVID. Enl. April 19, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Aug. 10, 1917. Home 
 address, 29 Farragut Ave., Medford, Mass. 
 
 DEAN, WARREN M. Enl. May 17, 1917. Home address, 2 Glenwood 
 St., Maiden, Mass. 
 
 DENSMORE, HARRISON. Enl. Sept. 20, 1917. Assgd. to Btry. as 
 cook. May 17, 1918. Home address, Morris, Ala. 
 
244 BATTERY A 
 
 DERBY, HENRY S. Enl. Sept. 7, 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 81 Oxford St., Somerville, Mass. 
 DEVANEY, JOSEPH P. Enl. Aug. 11, 1917. Corp., Nov. 12, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 31 Tufts St., Medford, Mass. 
 DeVEAU, FREDERIC J. Enl. Jan. 14, 1915. Corp., Apr., 1917. Sgt., 
 
 May, 1917. Saumur Artillery Sch., Mar. 24, 1918. Home address, 
 
 129 E. 69th St., New York, N. Y. 
 DOHERTY, JOHN L. Enl. May 28, 1917. Disch. at Boxford, Mass., 
 
 Sept. 5, 1917. 
 DOTY (DOUGHTY), CHARLES H., Jr. Enl. May 9, 1917. PVt., 
 
 1 CI., Mar., 1918, Home address, 44 Academy St., Arlington, Mass. 
 DREW, ARNO L. Enl. July 17, 1914. Corp., May, 1917. Trans, to 
 
 Hdq., 51st F. A. Brig., Dec. 8, 1917. Home address, 97 St. James 
 
 Ave., Boston, Mass. 
 DUNKLEE, LAURENCE H. Enl. May 24, 1917. Pyt., 1 CI, Nov. 12, 
 
 1918. Home address, 32 Marlborough Ave., Providence, R. I. 
 DUNN, JOHN J. Enl. June 18, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art., Aug,, 
 
 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Mar. 29, 1918, Home address, 3 Allen Rd., Provi- 
 dence, R. I. 
 DURANT, HENRY W. Enl. Dec. 16, 1915. Corp., Apr., 1917. Sgt„ 
 
 May, 1917. Disch. to accept commission, Nov. 16, 1917. (Previous 
 
 service in battery, 1909-1912). Home address, Lowell St., Cambridge, 
 
 Mass. 
 DURDEN, LEONARD H. Enl. Oct. 14, 1915. (Chief mechanic). Gon- 
 
 drecourt Artillery School, Jan., Feb., Mar., 1918. Trans, to School of 
 
 Instruction, Camp De Souges, June 21, 1918. Home address, 27 
 
 Dartmouth St., .Boston, Mass. 
 DYER, CHARLES W. Enl. Nov. 3, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 
 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Nov., 1918. Home address, Chester Springs, Penn, 
 DZIEKIEWZ, ANDREW. Enl. Nov. 18, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 
 
 17, 1918. Home address, Elizabeth, N. J. 
 ELDRIDGE, SETH A, Enl. June 21, 1917. Killed in action, July 20, 
 
 1918. Home address, 456 Quincy Ave., Quincy, Mass. 
 EDWARDS, ALBERT E. Enl. Oct. 4, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 12, 
 
 1918. Home address, R, F. D. No. 1, Box 208, Sandy Creek, Pa. 
 ELLIS, CHARLES R. Enl. Apr. 5. 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Sept. 1, 1917. 
 
 Killed in action, July 29, 1918. Home address, Tamworth, N. H. 
 ESTABROOK, JAMES E. Enl. May 8, 1917. Corp., Dec. 21, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 88 Corey St., W. Roxbury, Mass. 
 EYKELBOSCH, STANLEY W. Enl. May 28, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Sept. 
 
 11, 1918. Home address, 20 Greenleaf St., Boston, Mass. 
 FALL, ELMER W. Enl. June 4, 1917. Sgt., Oct. 27, 1917. Supply Sgt, 
 
 Oct 29, 1917. 1st Sgt, Oct. 3, 1918, Home address, 21 Pinkham St, 
 
 Lynn, Mass. 
 FARNSWORTH. CLAUDIUS R. Enl. Mar, 30, 1917. Corp,, Nov. 26, 
 
 1917, Killed in action, July 13, 1918. Home address, 104 Prospect St, 
 
 Providence, R. I. 
 FARRAR, ARTHUR B, Enl. May 17, 1917, Home address, 92 Eleanor 
 
 St., Chelsea, Mass. 
 FAULKNER, WINTHROP. Enl. Oct. 28, 1915. Corp., May, 1917. 
 
 Sgt., Aug., 1917. Sent to Saumur Artillery School, June, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 194 West St., Keene, N. H. 
 FERNBERG, BERTRAM N. Enl. May 28, 1917, Pvt, 1 CI., Aug., 1917. 
 
 Home address, 7 Forest St., Attleboro, Mass. 
 
APPENDIX 245 
 
 FIELD. DAVID P. Enl. May 8, 1917. Home address, 9 Bradford Ave., 
 
 Somerville, Mass. 
 FISHER, CHARLES. Enl. Apr. 20, 1917. Mech., Nov. 1, 1917. Home 
 
 address, 339 8th St., South Boston, Mass. 
 FITZPATRICK, FELIX. Enl. June 19, 1916. Trans, to Btry., May 28, 
 
 1918. Pvt., 1 CI., July 15, 1918. Home address, 45 Adrian St., Som- 
 erville, Mass. 
 FOLEY, LOYAL L. Enl. June 23, 1917. Home address, 1436 Astor St., 
 
 Chicago, 111. 
 FOLEY. THOMAS C. Enl. Mar. 31, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art. 
 
 Aug., 1917. Home address, 14 Stoddard St., Woburn, Mass. 
 FORREST, HENRY C. Enl. May 7, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., June 15, 
 
 1918. Pvt., 1 CI., Aug., 1918. Home address, Siloam Springs, Ark. 
 FORZATO. PIETRO. Enl. July 23, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Feb. 23, 
 
 1918. Home address, 119 High St., Haverhill, Mass. 
 FOSTER, WINTHROP M. Enl. May 28, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Jan., 1918. 
 
 Home address, 7 Lewis Rd., Winchester, Mass. 
 FOWLER, ALBION L. Enl. Apr. 2, 1917. Corp., June 3, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 398 Massachusetts Ave., Boston, Mass. 
 FOX, AUSTIN B. Enl. Sept. 7, 1917. Cook, Jan. 1, 1918. Home ad- 
 dress, 339 East 8th St., South Boston, Mass. 
 FRANK, ARCHIBALD C. Enl. June 8, 1917. Cook, Aug., 1918. Home 
 
 address, 239 Ohio Ave., Providence, R. I. 
 FUCHS, LOUIS. Enl. July 23. 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec, 1918. Home 
 
 address, St. Joe Co., Lakeville, Ind. 
 FURNESS, THOMAS F. Enl. Mar. 23, 1916. Corp., May, 1917. Disch. 
 
 to accept commission in Regular Army, Nov. 27, 1917. Home ad- 
 dress, 34 Gorham Ave., Brookline, Mass. 
 FYLER, EDWIN W. Enl. May 21, 1917. Sent to hospital, Oct. 30, 1918. 
 
 and dropped from rolls. Home address, 17 Hamilton St., Readville, 
 
 Mass. 
 GAGE, DANIEL R. Enl. Mar. 20, 1916. Sgt., Aug., 1917. 1st Sgt., 
 
 Nov. 26, 1917. Army Candidates' School at Saumur, Mar. 24. 1918. 
 
 (Previous service in battery. May, 1908 — Nov., 1915). Home address, 
 
 Concord, Mass. 
 
 GAMMELL, ROBERT H. L Enl. June 20, 1916. Corp., May, 1917. 
 Sgt., Nov. 26, 1917. Disch. Jan. 15, 1918, to accept commission. 
 Home address, 22 St. Botolph St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 GANEY, MAURICE. Enl. June 24. 1916. Disch. at Boxford, Mass., 
 Sept. 5, 1917. 
 
 GARNER, REGINALD C. Enl. May 31, 1917. Home address, 312 
 Columbus Ave., Boston, Mass. 
 
 GIFFORD, CLIFTON A. Enl. Apr. 30, 1917. Corp., Aug., 1917, Sgt., 
 May 16, 1918. Home address. South Westport, Mass. 
 
 GLEASON, LEVERETT S. Enl. Apr. 26, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Jan. 1, 
 1918. To Sorbonne University, France, Mar., 1919. Home address, 
 125 Vernon St., Newton, Mass. 
 
 GLIDDEN, ELMER R. Enl. Aug. 15, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 1, 1917. 
 Corp., May 3, 1918. Sgt, Aug. 7, 1918. Returned to U. S. as in- 
 structor, Aug. 18, 1918. Home address, 2 Wildwood Ter., Winchester, 
 Mass. 
 
 GOODWIN, HARRY C. Enl. July 24, 1917. Corp., April 24, 1919. 
 Home address, 187 Grant Ave., Medford, Mass. 
 
246 BATTERY A 
 
 GOWDEY, LOUIS A. Enl. June 4, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art., Aug., 
 
 1917. Disch. at Boxford, Mass., Sept. 5, 1917. Home address, 4 Han- 
 over St.. Providence, R. I. 
 
 GOZZALDI, RICHARD S. de. Enl. Mar. 23, 1916. Trans, to Btry. B, 
 
 1st Me. Heavy Art., Sept. 6, 1917. Home address, 91 Brattle St., 
 
 Cambridge, Mass. 
 GRIMBALL, JOHN B. 1st Lt. Assgd. to Btry., Jan. 1, 1918. Trans, to 
 
 1st Div., Apr., 1918. 
 HACKETT, WILLIAM L. Enl. May 31, 1917. Mech., Sept. 11, 1918. 
 
 Chief Mech., Dec. 1, 1918. Home address, 14 Bates Rd., Watertown, 
 
 Mass. 
 HAFER, EDWARD F. Enl. May 8, 1917. Corp., Dec. 20, 1917. Home 
 
 address, Hadden Hall, Avondale, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 HALL, HENRY L, Jr. Enl. Apr. 12, 1917. Home address, Edgemore 
 
 Rd., Quincy, Mass. 
 HARLOW, FRANK J. Enl. Feb. 14, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 14, 
 
 1918. Home address, Stoddard, N. H. 
 
 HARDESTY, JAS. W. Enl. Apr. 22, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 20. 
 
 1918. Sent to S. O. S. hospital and dropped from rolls, Aug. 30, 
 
 1918. Home address, 115 W. Fourth St., Spokane, Wash. 
 HARDING, RICHARD F. Enl. Apr. 1, 1917. Corp., Aug. 28, 1917. 
 
 Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st F. A., July 9, 1918. Home address, 125 
 
 King St., Franklin, Mass. 
 HARRIMAN, EARL H. Enl. June 30, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, 422 Illinois Ave., Stevens Point, Wis. 
 HARRINGTON, IRA D. Enl. Oct. 2, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 
 
 191& Cook, Dec. 1, 1918. Home address, Star Route, Princeton, Mo. 
 HART, JOHN J. Enl. June 20, 1916. Saddler. Home address, 132 
 
 N St., South Boston, Mass. 
 HECKER, EUGENE A. Enl. May 17, 1917. Supply Sgt., July, 1917. 
 
 Trans, to Btry. B, 1st Me. Heavy Art., Sept. 6, 1917. Home address, 
 
 104 Avon St., Cambridge, Mass. 
 HELFENBURG, GUS. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, 
 
 69 N. Village Ave., Rockville Centre, L. I., N. Y. 
 HIBBARD, WARREN L. Enl. Apr. 1, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1917. 
 
 Home address, 31 Wrenthan St., Boston, Mass. 
 HOAR, STEADMAN B. Enl. Oct. 20, 1915. Sgt., May, 1917. Saumur 
 
 Art. School, Nov. 27, 1917. Home address, 72 Main St., Concord, 
 
 Mass. 
 HOLLIFIELD, WARREN L. Enl. Jan. 30, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., June 
 
 13, 1918. Home address, Edom, Texas. 
 HOMMEL, JAMES S. Assgd: to Btry. as 2d Lt., May 5, 1918. 1st Lt., 
 
 Oct. 19, 1918. Home address, Newport, Tenn. 
 HOOPER, EDWARD A. Enl. May 4, 1916. Corp., June-Dec, 1917. 
 
 Killed in action, July 29, 1918. Home address, 11 Thorndike St., 
 
 Brookline, Mass. 
 HOSE, LEWIS J. Enl. Dec. 6, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., June 5, 1918. 
 
 Trans, to Military Police, Mar. 1, 1919. Home address, Hagers- 
 
 town, Md. 
 HORN, HARRY E. Enl. Mar. 30, 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 29 Maywood St., Roxbury, Mass. 
 HOUSTON, GRAFTON. Assgd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt., Jan. 1, 1918. Re- 
 turned to the U. S. as instructor, July 15, 1918. Home address, San 
 
 Antonio, Texas. 
 
APPENDIX 247 
 
 HOWE, HAROLD A. Enl. Mar. 29, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st 
 
 F. A., Aug. 23, 1917. Home address, 214 Essex St., Boston, Mass. 
 HOWLAND, RAYMOND L. Enl. June 1, 1917. Killed in action, July 
 
 29, 1918. Home address, 28 Aspen Rd., Swampscott, Mass. 
 HOYT, WARREN. Enl. May 28. 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st F. A., 
 
 Feb. 12. 1918. Home address, 356 Mass. Ave., Boston, Mass. 
 HUDSON, WILLIS L. Enl. Dec. 6, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., June 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, May Pearl, Texas. 
 HUGHES, FRANK J. Enl. Mar. 30, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art.. 
 
 Aug., 1917. Trans, to 1st Me. Heavy Art., at Boxford, Mass., Sept. 6, 
 
 1917. Home address, 469 E. 6th St., So. Boston, Mass. 
 HUMMELL, DAVID S. Enl. June 23, 1918. Assgd. Btry. D, Dec. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, R. F. D. No. 1, Bremen, Ind. 
 
 HUNT, IRVING M. Enl. Apr. 30, 1917. Horse shoer, June, 1917, to 
 
 Dec, 1918. Home address, So. Hanover, Mass. 
 HUNTINGTON, FREDERIC D. Enl. Apr., 1909. Corp., June 8, 1914. 
 
 Sgt, June. 1915. 1st Sgt.. Jan., 1917. 2nd Lt., Apr., 1917. 1st Lt., 
 
 June, 1917. Capt., July, 1917. Home address, 237 Mass. Ave., Lex- 
 ington, Mass. 
 HURLEY, WILFRED C. Enl. Mar. 15. 1916. Trans, from Coast Art.. 
 
 Aug. 26, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Jan., 1918. Home address, 43 Highland 
 
 Ave., Arlington, Mass. 
 JAMES, BENJAMIN. Enl. Aug. 24, 1917. Sgt., Aug. 28, 1917. Wounded 
 
 in action, Apr. 21, 1918. (Previous service in battery, 1916-1917). 
 
 Evacuated to hospital and dropped from rolls. Home address, 52 
 
 Browne St., Brookline, Mass. 
 JAMES, HAROLD K. Enl. Mar. 29, 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 26 Clinton St., Cambridge, Mass. 
 JOHNSON, CARL P. Enl. May 9, 1917. Corp., Nov. 10, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 50 Prescott St., Readville, Mass. 
 JOHNSON, CHARLES B., Jr. Enl. May 10, 1917. Sgt., Nov. 26, 1917. 
 
 Trans, to Saumur Art. Sch., Aug. 27, 1918. Returned to Btry., Dec. 
 
 27, 1918. Commissioned 2nd Lt., May 23, 1919. Home address, 51 
 
 Main St., Concord, Mass. 
 JOHNSON, GEO. A. Enl. Apr. 12, 1917. Home address, Arizona-Bing- 
 
 hampton Mines, Stoddard, Ariz. 
 JENNINGS, CHRISTIAN L. Enl. Aug. 12, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 
 
 13. 1918. Home address, 7 So. Front St., Harrisburg, Pa. 
 JANES, LLOYD E. Enl. Aug. 2, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 13, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 202 Ohio St., Merrill, Wis. 
 JENSEN, PETER F. Enl. May 28, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Aug., 1918. Home 
 
 address, 19 Thomas St., Jamaica Plain, Mass 
 JOPP, KENNETH B. Enl. Mar. 15, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Jan. 1, 1918. 
 
 Returned to U. S., y^pr., 1918. Back to Btry., Aug., 1918. Home 
 
 address, 21 Waren St., Winchester, Mass. 
 JOYCE, MARTIN W. Enl. Feb. 7, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art., Aug. 
 
 23, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Dec. 1, 1918. Home address, 21 Roberts Ave., 
 
 W. Roxbury, Mass. 
 KENNEDY, CARL Y. Enl. May 25. 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Sept. 11, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 58 Fessenden St., Portland, Me. 
 KENNEDY, JOSEPH C. Enl. June 1, 1917. Corp., Jan. 3, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 14 Brockton St., Haverhill, Mass. 
 KENT, GEORGE E. Enl. Apr. 30, 1917. Home address, 264 Lake Ave., 
 
 Newton Highlands, Mass. 
 
248 BATTERY A 
 
 KILBOURNE, AUSTIN. Assgnd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt., Jan. 1, 1918. 
 
 Returned to U. S., Apr. 19, 1918. Home address, 128 High St., New 
 
 Haven, Conn. 
 KILLEEN, JAMES M. Enl. Aug. 18, 1917. Trans, to Corps of Intelli- 
 gence Police, Oct. 4. 1918. Home address, 244 North Main St., 
 
 Concord, N. H. 
 KIMBALL, PARKER S. Enl. Apr. 12, 1917. Corp., Jan. 5, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 76 Bartlett St., Maiden, Mass. 
 KING, WILLIAM G. Assgd. to Btry. as Sgt., Mar. 12, 1919. Home 
 
 address, 578 Park Ave., Columbus, Ohio. 
 KIPER, RALPH. Enl. Mar. 27, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 20, 1918. 
 
 Home address, Downs, Kan. 
 KIRWAN, THOMAS A. Enl. May 25, 1916. Corp., Apr., 1917. Sgt, 
 
 May, 1917. 2nd Lt., July, 1917. 1st Lt., Nov. 9, 1917. Assgd. to 
 
 Hdq. Co., Nov. 27, 1917. Home address, 246 Newbury St., Boston, 
 
 Mass. 
 KNIGHT, LEWIS R. Enl. May 17, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Dec. 1, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 175 Washington St., Maiden, Mass. 
 KISON, GEORGE C. Enl. May 21, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Sept. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, Worthington, Pa. 
 KNAUTH, FELIX W. Enl. Dec, 1914. Corp., Apr., 1917. Sgt., May, 
 
 1917. 2d Lt, June, 1917. 1st Lt, July, 1917. Assgd. to Btry. C, 
 
 Oct 26, 1917. Home address, 302 W. 76th St., New York, N. Y. 
 
 KNAUTH, VICTOR W. Enl. May 17, 1917. Corp., May, 1917. Sgt., 
 July, 1917. Disch. to accept commission, Nov. 16, 1917. (Previous 
 service in battery, 1914—1916). Home address, 302 W. 76th St., New 
 York, N. Y. 
 
 KNOX, HARWOOD W. Enl. May 31, 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. 
 Home address, 19 Bowker St., Brookline, Mass. 
 
 KUNHARDT, GEORGE E., Jr. Enl. May 8, 1917. Corp., Aug. 10, 
 
 1917. Sgt. Nov. 26, 1917. 1st Sgt., July 15, 1918. Saumur Art Sch., 
 Sept 28, 1918. Returned to Btry., Dec. 29, 1918. Commissioned 2nd 
 Lt,, March 23, 1919. Home address, 100 Mt. Vernon St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 LAITY, HOWARD M. Enl. May 23, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art, 
 Aug. 28, 1917. Home address, Wakefield, R. I. 
 
 LANCASTER, BRUCE. Enl. May 7, 1916. Corp.. June, 1917 — June, 
 
 1918. Home address, 18 Walnut S., Worcester, Mass. 
 
 LANCASTER, EARL. Enl. Apr. 21, 1917. Hon. Disch., July 30, 1917, 
 at Boxford, Mass. 
 
 LANCASTER, SOUTHWORTH. Enl. June 23, 1916. Corp., May, 1917. 
 On special duty with Military Police, Aug., 1917, to Mar., 1919. Home 
 address, 18 Walnut St, Worcester, Mass. 
 
 LANE, EDWARD D. Enl. May 17, 1917. Corp., Nov. 10, 1918. Home 
 address, 35 Everett St., Arlington, Mass. 
 
 LAWRENCE, DAVIS O. Enl. May 9, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Nov. 1, 1917. 
 Killed in action, April 21, 1918. Home address, 48 Shore Drive, Win- 
 throp, Mass. 
 
 LAWRENCE, RALPH G. Enl. June 14, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Apr. 28, 
 1918. Trans, to Div. Hdq., July, 1918. Home address, Stallbridgc, 
 Dorset, Eng. 
 
 LeMOINE, albert Z. Enl. May 8, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Mar. 29, 1918. 
 Trans, to Judge Advocate's office, 1st Army Corps, Apr. 12, 1918. 
 Home address, 14 Union Ave., Framingham, Mass. 
 
APPENDIX 249 
 
 LINSEY, JOE. Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 1918. 
 
 Home address, De Kalb, Texas. 
 LLOYD, FREDERICK T. Enl. May 10, 1917. Corp., May, 1917. Disch. 
 
 Mar. 5, 1918. Returned to U. S. Home address, 1735 Washtenaw 
 
 Ave., Ann Arbor, Mich. 
 LOCKE, CLARENCE E. Enl. May 31, 1917. Home address, 127 Vin- 
 ton St., Melrose, Mass. 
 LOOMIS, HUBERT H. Enl. July 19, 1917. Home address, Brookesby 
 
 Rd., Bedford, Mass. 
 LORENSEN, FRED J. Enl. May 31, 1917. Cook, Aug. 10, 1917. Home 
 
 address, 369 Lynnfield St., Lynn, Mass. 
 LUING, LESLIE A. Enl. Apr. 8, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 16, 1918. 
 
 Home address, Milford, la. 
 LYFORD, RICHARD T. Enl. June 7, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Sept. 1, 1917. 
 
 Home address, 11 Pitman St., Concord, N. H. 
 LYNCH. GEORGE N. Enl. Apr. 9, 1917. Bugler, Aug. 10, 1917. Trans. 
 
 to Hdq. Co., 101st F. A., June 4, 1918. Home address, 3 Park Vale 
 
 Ave., Brookline, Mass. 
 LYNCH, FRANCIS M. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 14, 1918. Home address, 
 
 2101 E. Ninth St., McKeesport, Pa. 
 MacDONALD, EDWARD N. Enl. May 24, 1917. Home address, 6 
 
 Deering Rd., Mattapan, Mass. 
 MacDONALD, FRED E. Enl. May 4, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 23, 
 
 1918. Mech., Dec. 1, 1918. Home address, 803 Lyon St., Des 
 
 Moines, la. 
 MacFARLAND, EDWIN C. Enl. Mav 23, 1917. Corp., May 3, 1918. 
 
 Sgt., Sept. 3, 1918. Home address, 18 Irwin St., Winthrop, Mass. 
 MacGREGOR, WILLARD D. Enl. Apr. 27, 1916. Trans, from Supply 
 
 Co., Jan. 23, 1918. Home address, 628 Mass. Ave., Boston, Mass. 
 MacNAMEE, FRANK A., Jr. Enl. Oct. 1, 1915. Sgt., Apr., 1917. 1st 
 
 Sgt., Apr., 1917. 1st Lt, May 15, 1917. In command of battery from 
 
 April 21 to Oct. 2, 1918. Trans from B Battery, Nov., 1917. Trans. 
 
 to Art School at Coetquidan as instructor, Oct., 1918. Home address, 
 
 690 Madison Ave., Albany, N. Y. 
 MAGUIRE, THOMAS G. Enl. Mar. 7, 1917. Trans, to Btry. from 
 
 Coast Art., Aug. 24, 1917. Home address, Clapp St., Dorchester, Mass. 
 MANN, ALDEN T., Jr. Enl. Apr. 5, 1917. Corp.. Aug., 1917. Trans, 
 
 to Q. M. C, Dec. 22, 1917. Home address, 125 King St., Franklin, 
 
 Mass. 
 
 MANN, ELIOT J. B. Enl. May 5, 1914. Trans, from Supply Co. to 
 Btry. A, Apr. 8, 1918. A. W. O. L. and dropped from rolls, Aug. 26, 
 1918. Home address, 7 Whittemore Rd., Medford, Mass. 
 
 MARRETT, EDWARD H. Assgd. to Btry. as 2d Lt. from F Btry., 
 
 Sept. 6, 1918. Trans, to F. Btry., Sept. 11, 1918. (Previous service in 
 
 battery, 1915—1917). 
 MARTIN, EDWARD M. Assgd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt, Jan. 11, 1918. 
 
 Trans, to 1st Division, Apr., 1918. 
 MARTIN, EDWIN T. Enl. May 7, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., May 3, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 1240 Pleasant St., Marblehead, Mass. 
 MARTIN, WALTER B. Assgd. to Btry., May 17, 1918. Home address, 
 
 R. F. D. No. 2, Callaway, Va. 
 MARSHALL, HOWARD L. Enl. Nov. 30, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 
 
 1, 1918. Home address, Deale, Md. 
 
250 BATTERY A 
 
 MATHEWS, ERNEST C. Enl. May 8, 1917. Trans, to Sup. Co., 101st 
 
 F. A., Aug. 24, 1917. Home address, 22 Lincoln St., Winchester, Mass. 
 MAURAN, FRANK A., Jr. Assgd. to Btry. as 1st Lt., Jan. 1, 1918. 
 
 Trans, to 1st Div., Apr., 1918. 
 McARDLE, HUGH J. Enl. Apr. 28, 1915. Trans, from Coast Art., Aug. 
 
 25, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Sept. 11, 1918. Home address, 130 Myrtle St., 
 
 Boston, Mass. 
 McCANN, NORMAN F Enl. June 1, 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. Sgt., 
 
 Dec. 2, 1918. Home address, 359 Pleasant St., Belmont, Mass. 
 McCarthy, GEORGE M. Enl. Apr. 24, 1917. Corp., May 3, 1918. 
 
 Wounded, sent to hospital, July 27, 1918, and dropped from rolls. 
 
 Home address, 301 E. Eagle St., So. Boston, Mass. 
 McSWEENEY, JOHN M. Enl. June 15, 1914. Corp. to June, 1918. 
 
 Trans, from Coast Art., Aug. 25, 1917. Home address, 30 Circuit St., 
 
 W. Medford, Mass. 
 MERRIAM, JOSEPH C. Enl. Dec. .3, 1914. Corp., Apr., 1917. Sgt.. July, 
 
 1917. Trans, to Saumur Art. Sch., Apr. 13, 1918. Home address, 
 Framingham, Mass. 
 
 MOORE, JAMES J. Enl. May 1, 1917. Honorably disch., July 30, 1917. 
 
 MORRIS, TEMPLE L. Enl. June 11, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art., 
 Aug. 24, 1917. Sent to hospital. Mar. 31, 1918, and dropped from 
 rolls. Home address, 111 Pond St., Providence, R. L 
 
 MORTON, CLARENCE F. Enl. May 17, 1917. Trans, to Supply Co., 
 101st F. A., Aug. 24, 1917. Home address, 117 Berkley St., Lawrence, 
 Mass. 
 
 MOYNIHAN. OWEN E. Enl. June 30, 1916. Trans, from Btry. F. 
 101st F. A., Jan. 12, 1918. Horseshoer, Mar. 1, 1918. Home address, 
 10 Japonica St., Salem, Mass. 
 
 MURPHY, VINCENT C. Enl. May 28, 1917. Home address, 75 Brad- 
 field Ave., Roslindale, Mass. 
 
 MERSKY, MOSES. Enl. Apr. 13, 1918. Assgd. to Btry. A, Nov. 16, 
 
 1918. Home address, 290 Hillside Ave., Waterbury, Conn. 
 MURRAY, PETER J. Jr. Enl. Aug. 7, 1917. Corp., Nov. 12, 1918, 
 
 Home address, 15 Clark St., Framingham, Mass. 
 MYERS, WILLIAM P. Enl. Jan. 20, 1916. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st 
 F. A., Aug. 10, 1917. Home address, 5 Kenney St., Jamaica Plain, 
 Mass. 
 
 NELSON, JOHN L. Enl. May 23, 1917. Home address, 280 Highland 
 St., Worcester, Mass. 
 
 NICHOLS, CHARLES E. Enl. May 21, 1917. Hon. disch. at Boxford, 
 Mass., July 31, 1917. Home address, c/o Nichols & Son, Roxbury 
 Crossing, Mass. 
 
 NICKERSON. RALPH C. Enl. June 4, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Sept. 11, 
 1918. Home address. Church St., W. Dennis, Mass. 
 
 NOLAN, LUKE A. Enl. Nov. 2, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 11, 1918. 
 Home address, 4 Valley St., Port Carbon, Pa. 
 
 NOONAN, DANIEL A. Enl. Apr. 9, 1917. A. W. O. L. and dropped 
 from rolls, Aug. 24, 1918. Home address, 849 Fourth St., So. Boston, 
 Mass. 
 
 NOBLES, JONOTHAN O. Enl. Sept. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry. as 
 cook, May 2, 1918. Home address. Green Cave Spring, Fla. 
 
 NORTON, JAMES R. Enl. Apr. 13, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 16 
 1918. Home address, 1031 Park St., Kansas City, Mo. 
 
APPENDIX 251 
 
 O'DAY, HENRY V. Enl. Apr. 26, 1917. Corp., July 1, 1918. Sgt., 
 Sept. 3, 1918. Home address, 36 Davis Ave., Brookline, Mass. 
 
 O'MELIA,. LAWRENCE P. Enl. Mar. 28, 1917. Trans, from Coast 
 Art., Aug. 26. 1917. Trans, to Btry. B, 1st Me. Heavy Art, at Box- 
 ford, Mass., Sept. 6, 1917. Home address, 144 lyler St., Boston. 
 Mass. 
 
 O'NEIL, PATRICK. Enl. June 23, 1916. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st 
 F. A., July 28, 1917. 
 
 O'SHAUGHNESSY, CHARLES W., Jr. Enl. Apr. 27, 1917. Home 
 address, 141 Charles St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 O'LEARY, MICHAEL J. Enl. June 10, 1917. Hon. disch. at Boxford, 
 Mass., July 30, 1917. 
 
 O'LAUGHLIN, JOSEPH P. Enl. Mar. 26, 1917. Hon. disch. at Box- 
 ford, Mass., July 30, 1917. Home address, 54 Cypress St., Brookline, 
 Mass. 
 
 PARKER, HAROLD L. Enl. May 10, 1917. (Previous service in bat- 
 tery, Apr., 1911 — Apr., 1914). Home address, Hotel Somerset, Bos- 
 ton, Mass. 
 
 PEABODY, ELLERY, Jr. Enl. May 28. 1917. Corp., Mar., 1918. Sgt., 
 Aug. 14, 1918. Died of wounds, Oct. 24, 1918. Home address, 70 
 Temple St., W. Newton, Mass. 
 
 PETERSON, HAROLD A. Enl. June 4, 1917. Cook to Apr., 1918. 
 Trans, to Hdq., 26th Div., Oct. 21, 1918. Home address, 18 Andrews 
 St., Everett, Mass. 
 
 PETTEE, JOHN T. Enl. Aug. 9, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st F. A., 
 Aug. 23, 1917. Home address, 31 Manning St., Medford, Mass. 
 
 PILGRIM, ALFRED D. Enl. May 10, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 25, 
 1918. Home address, 523 N. 19th St., Des Moines, la. 
 
 PLANTE, RAOUL H. Enl. Aug. 8, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., May 3, 1918. 
 Home address, 20 South St., Framingham, Mass. 
 
 PLUMMER, CHARLES W. Enl. Nov., 1911. Corp., June 30, 1915. 
 Sgt., Apr., 1917. 2nd Lt, July, 1917. Trans, to Army Aeronautical 
 Sch., Tours, France, Jan.. 1918. Killed in action, Aug., 1918. Home 
 address, 9 Willow St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 PLYMPTON, ALLAN H. Enl. June 21, 1917. Home address, 25 Liver- 
 more Rd., Wellesley Hills, Mass. 
 
 PONTRISH, EDWARD N. Enl. June 28, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 
 18, 1918. Home address, 608 E. Ornsby St., Louisville, Ky. 
 
 POTTER, FREDERICK W. Enl. Mar. 29. 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. 
 Home address, 6-8 High St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 POWELL. ALFRED E. Enl. May 18, 1917. Trans, from Coast Art., 
 Aug. 25. 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., May 3, 1918. Home address, 82 Charles 
 Field St., Providence. R. I. 
 
 PRATT, JOHN G. Enl. May 7, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 25, 1918. 
 Home address, Fort Des Moines, Des Moines, la. 
 
 PREBENSEN, HAROLD I. Enl. May 28, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., July, 1918. 
 Home address, 11 Sacramento St., Somerville, Mass. 
 
 PRIEBE, HENRY G. Enl. June 10, 1915. Assgd. to Btry., Aug. 25, 
 1917. Wounded, sent to hospital. Oct 25, 1918. and dropped from 
 rolls. Home address, 25 Ash Ave., Somerville, Mass. 
 
 QUINN, EDWARD G. Enl. Aug. 15, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., June 15, 1918. 
 Home address, 79 Harvard Ave., W. Medford, Mass. 
 
 RAILEY. THOMAS W. Enl. May 27, 1918. Home address, 79 Har- 
 vard Ave., W. Medford, Mass. 
 
252 BATTERY A 
 
 REICHERT, WILLIAM H. Enl. Sept. 26, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 
 
 11, 1918. Home address, 2291 Niagara St., Buflfalo, N. Y. 
 RENTY, DOMINICK. Enl. Oct. 4, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., June 19, 
 
 1918. Home address, 4 Wood Court, Southbridge, Mass. 
 RICHARDSON, LAWRENCE B. Assgd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt., Jan. 1, 
 
 1918. To Saumur as instructor, Apr., 1918. 
 RICKER, HAROLD K. Enl. June 1, 1917. Corp., Nov. 12, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 15 Bennett St., Hudson, Mass. 
 RIGBY, NORBERT E. Enl. May 17, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Jan. 1, 1918. 
 
 Killed in action, Apr. 21, 1918. Home address, 185 Davis Ave., Brook- 
 line, Mass. 
 RIPLEY, EDWARD N. Enl. June 1, 1916. Corp., June, 1917. Sgt., 
 
 Nov., 1917. Killed in action, May 27, 1918. Home address, 82 Bel- 
 tram St., Maiden, Mass. 
 RITCHIE, LYELL H. Enl. June 26, 1917. Corp., May 3, 1918. Sgt., 
 
 Nov. 10, 1918. Home address, 27 Third St., Hinsdale, 111. 
 RODLIFF, DENNETT D. Enl. June 4, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Aug., 1918. 
 
 Home address, 60 Mapleton St., Brighton, Mass. 
 ROGERS, CLIFFORD. Enl. Nov. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 11. 
 
 1918. Home address, Hornerstown, N. J. 
 ROGERS, HORATIO. Enl. July 9, 1917. Corp.. Aug. 10, 1917. Home 
 
 address, 381 Hammond St., Chestnut Hill, Mass. 
 ROGERS. WILLIAM B., Jr. Enl. May 9, 1917. Corp., June 3, 1917. 
 
 Sgt., July 1, 1918. Home address, Westfield St., Dedham, Mass. 
 ROGERS, DONALD. Enl. May 11, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July, 1918. 
 
 Pvt, 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1918. Home address, Wapello, Iowa. 
 ROWAN, WILLIAM E. Enl. Apr. 9, 1917. Corp., Nov. 26, 1917. Sgt, 
 
 Aug. 1, 1918. Trans, to Art Sch. of Instr., Le Courneau, Aug. 11, 
 
 1918. Home address, 71 Chester St., Allston, Mass. 
 RUSHTON, JOHN. Assgd. to Btry. as Corp., Mar. 12, 1919. Home 
 
 address, R. F. D. No. 2, Saluda, S. C. 
 SAINDON, WILLIS J. N. Enl. Mar. 2, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Aug. 28, 
 
 1917, from Me. Coast Art Pvt, 1 CI., Mar. 28, 1918. Home address, 
 46 Third St, Auburn, Me. 
 
 SANICH, LAZO. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, 327 
 
 Fellmore St., Gary, Ind. 
 SANSONE, DOMINICK. Enl. Nov. 20, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 
 
 1918. Home address, 132 West St., Bayonne, N. J. 
 
 SAWYER, ENOS C. Enl. May 2, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Mar. 1, 1918. 
 
 Killed in action, Apr. 21, 1918. Home address, 7 Clinton St., Cam- 
 bridge, Mass. 
 SCANLON, BERNARD P. Enl. May 24, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 
 
 101st F. A., July 30, 1917. Home address, 844 Main St, Melrose, 
 
 Mass. 
 SEALE. WILLIAM A. Enl. Mar. 29, 1917. Wounded, sent to hospital, 
 
 Oct 20, 1918, and dropped from rolls. Home address, 330 Walnut 
 
 St, Wellesley Hills, Mass. 
 SHAHAN, GEORGE C. Enl. Aug. 1, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Jan. 9, 
 
 1918. Corp., Sept. 3, 1918. Sgt, Nov. 12, 1918. Stable Sgt., Nov. 12, 
 
 1918. Home address, Chromo, Colorado. 
 SHAW, RICHARD. Assgd. to Btry. as 1st Lt., May 5, 1918. Sent to 
 
 2nd Corps Art Sch. as instructor, June, 1918. 
 SHEDD, JAMES A. Enl. May 8, 1917. Home address, 266 Brookline 
 
 Ave., Boston, Mass. 
 
APPENDIX 253 
 
 SHELLEDY, LOUIS P. Enl. May 9, 1917. Assgd. to Btry. A, July 25, 
 1918. Pvt, 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1918. Home address, 3001 Cambridge St., 
 Des Moines, la. 
 
 SHOOBS, NAHUM H. Assgd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt., Sept., 1918. Trans, 
 to Gondrecourt, Jan., 1919. Home address 640 Eastern Parkway. 
 Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 SHACKELFORD, WILLIAM A. Enl. May 9, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI June 1 
 1917. Trans, to Q. M. C, N. A., Dec. 22, 1917. Returned to Btry., 
 Feb. 1, 1919. Home address, 1 Linden St., Readville, Mass. 
 
 SIGEL, MORRIS. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, 159 
 Flushing Ave., Astoria, L. I., N. Y. 
 
 SHEPLEY, GEORGE F. Enl. May 9, 1917. Home address, Warren St., 
 Brookline, Mass. 
 
 SHERMAN, HOMER N. Assgd. to Btry., Mar 12, 1919. Home address, 
 
 R. F. D No. 3, Troy, Idaho. 
 SIMMONS, WILLIAM A. Enl. Nov. 22, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 
 
 11, 1918. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 2, 1918. Home address, 79 Linwood Ave., 
 
 Jamestown, N. Y. 
 
 SMART, PAUL H. 2nd Lt. Trans, from Btry. C, Aug. 29, 1918. Trans, 
 to Btry. C, Sept. 5, 1918. 
 
 SMITH, CLARENCE H. Enl. July 9, 1917. Pvt. 1 CI., Mar. 1, 1918. 
 Home address, 132 Lexington Ave., Cambridge, Mass. 
 
 SMITH, LOUIS M. Enl. July 25, 1917. Bugler, Aug. 10, 1917. Pvt., 
 1 CI., Mar. 1, 1919. Home address. Mason, N. H. 
 
 SMITH, THOMAS W. Enl. Apr. 26, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., June 15, 1918. 
 Home address, 62 Salem St, Medford, Mass. 
 
 SNELLING, SAMUEL W. Enl. Apr., 1917. Corp., Aug., 1917. Sgt, 
 June 8, 1918. Home address, Lincoln, Mass. 
 
 SOULE. CHESTER F. Enl. Apr. 30, 1917. Home address, 274 Chest- 
 nut St, W. Newton, Mass. 
 
 SPIERS, JOHN H. Enl. July 24, 1917. Trans, to Hdq., 101st F. A., 
 Apr. 15, 1918. Home address, 300 Ashmont St, Dorchester, Mass. 
 
 STANDISH KARL. Enl. June 14, 1917. Pvt, 1 CI., Jan. 1, 1917. 
 Trans, to 101st F. A. Supply Co., Apr. 12, 1918. Home address, 
 46 Lawrence St, Canton, Mass. 
 
 STEARNS, GRANVILLE W. Enl. May 21, 1917. Trans, to Btry. B, 
 1st Me. Heavy Art., Sept 6, 1917. Home address, 196 Ocean St, 
 Providence, R. I. 
 
 STEVENS, CHESTER A. Enl. July 19, 1917. Corp., Dec. 28, 1918. 
 Home address, Newton June, N. H. 
 
 STEWART, ROBERT H. Enl. Mar. 15, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 
 101st F. A., Nov. 25, 1917. Home address, 381 Park St., Newton, 
 Mass. 
 
 STREET, JOHN B. Enl. July 19, 1917. Trans, to Hdq., 51st Brig., 
 F. A., Aug. 27, 1917. Home address, 229 Main St, Medford, Mass. 
 
 STREIT, LEONARD R. Enl. May 28, 1917. Trans, to Supply Co., 
 101st F. A., Aug. 24, 1917. Home address, 6 Beale St, Dorchester, 
 Mass. 
 
 STORER, THEODORE L. Enl. June 10, 1915. Corp., Jan., 1917. Sgt, 
 Apr., 1917. 1st Sgt, May 15, 1917. 2nd Lt, Nov. 16, 1917. 1st Lt., 
 July 31, 1918. Home address, Waltham, Mass. 
 
 SULLIVAN, LEWIS R. Enl. Apr. 19, 1917. Home address, 108 Holmes 
 Ave., Dorchester, Mass. 
 
254 BATTERY A 
 
 SULLIVAN, WALTER L. Enl. June 26. 1916. Pvt., 1 CI., June 15, 
 
 1918. Home address, 65 Terrace St., Ro.xbury, Mass. 
 SPEIGHT. HARRY. Enl. June 2, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Aug. 25, 1917, 
 
 from Coast Art. Home address. Box 386. Peacedale, R. I. 
 SYLVESTER, JOSEPH L. Enl. May 9, 1917. A. W. O. L., Oct. 29, 
 
 1918, and dropped from rolls. Home address, 93 Leon St., Roxbury, 
 
 Mass. 
 SYPHAN, FRANK J. Assgd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt.. Jan. 1, 1918. Trans. 
 
 to Military Police, Mar., 1918. 
 TAILBY, ALLEN R. Enl. May 10, 1917. On special duty with Div. 
 
 Hdq. from June, 1918. Home address, 88 Crest Rd., Wellesley, Mass. 
 TANNER, MARION E. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, 
 
 Mel ford, Utah. 
 TAYLOR, PERCY L. Enl. June 10, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, Valejo, Calif. 
 TEMPLE, CHARLES S. Enl. Apr. 30, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., May 3, 1918. 
 
 With Hdq. Troop, 26th Div., from June, 1918. Home address, 232 
 
 Melrose St., Auburndale, Mass. 
 THURSTON. HERBERT O. Enl. Oct. 22, 1913. Pvt., 1 CI., May 3. 
 
 1918. Home address. 32 Dundee St., Boston, Mass. 
 TIBBETTS, FRANK L. Enl. May 28, 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., 101st 
 
 F. A., Aug. 23. 1917. Home address, 65 Portland St., Cambridge, 
 
 Mass. 
 TILLEY, BASIL H. Enl. May 24, 1917. Home address, 38 Fordham 
 
 Rd., Allston, Mass. 
 TOBIN, RICHARD S. Enl. June 23, 1916. Trans, to Btry. F, 101st 
 
 F. A., Sept. 5, 1917. Home address, 220 Harrison St., Chelsea, Mass. 
 TORNROSE, OTTO W. Enl. Dec. 6, 1916. Stable Sgt., July, 1917, to 
 
 Oct., 1918. Home address, Z7 Arnold St., Arlington, Mass. 
 TOWER, BENJAMIN C. Enl. Nov. 13, 1916. Assgd. to Btry., Nov. 13, 
 
 1918. Pvt.. 1 CI., Dec. 1, 1918. (Previous service in battery, May, 
 
 1905 — May, 1908.) Home address, 35 Congress St., Boston, Mass. 
 TOWLES, CLAUDE. Enl. June 27, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, 526 Russell St., Covington, Ky. 
 TULLO. FRANK. Enl. Nov. 19, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Mar. 11, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 56 Bernards Ave., Bernardsville, N. J. 
 TURNER, CARL J. Enl. May 31. 1917. Corp., Aug. 14, 1918. Home 
 
 address, 925 Broadway, W. Somerville, Mass. 
 TYLER, GEORGE R. Enl. May 25, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1918. 
 
 Home address, 85 Taylor St., Waltham, Mass. 
 VANDENBERG. HENRY. Enl. July 22. 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 
 
 13, 1918. Home address. Little Chut, Wis. 
 VARNERIN, ALBERT L. Enl. May 9, 1917. Hon. dich. at Boxford,- 
 
 Mass., July 30, 1917. 
 WALDO, JOHN L. Enl. July 27, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI., July 15, 1918. 
 
 Trans, to Ordnance Repair Shop. Oct. 4, 1918. Dropped from rolls, 
 
 Oct., i918. Home address, Dartmouth, Mass. 
 WALTZ, ROLLIN A. Enl. June 1, 1917. Trans, to Q. M. C, N. A., 
 
 Dec. 22, 1917. Attached, Mar. 12, 1919. Home address, 17 Plumer 
 
 St., Everett, Mass. 
 WASSMER, THOMAS. Enl. July 24, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, Wendel, Ind. 
 
APPENDIX 255 
 
 WEBSTER, IRA T. Enl. Mar. 29, 1917. Corp., Nov. 26, 1917. With 
 Hdq. Troop, 26th Div., from June, 1918. Home address. East Orange. 
 N.J. 
 
 WELCH, FRANKLIN E. Enl. May 10. 1917. Trans, to F. A. Sch. of 
 Instruction, Camp De Souge, May^ 1918. Returned to Btry. as Sgt., 
 Nov., 1918. Home address, 4 Rosedale St., Dorchester, Mass. 
 
 WELCH, WILLIAM R. Enl. May 1, 1916. As.sgd. to Btry., Aug. 25, 
 1917, from Coast Art. Home address, 61 Fulton St., Medford, Mass. 
 
 WHEELWRIGHT, EDMUND M. Enl. Oct. 28, 1915. Corp., Aug. 10, 
 
 1917. Trans, to Hdq. Co., Aug. 4, 1918. Home address, 936 High St., 
 Dedham, Mass. 
 
 WHITE, JOHN B. Enl. Apr. 25, 1918. Trans, to Btry., Dec, 1918. 
 
 Home address, Lagro, Ind. 
 WILLIAMS. LAWRENCE B. Enl. May 31, 1917. Corp., Jan. 5. 1918. 
 
 Killed in action, July 19, 1918. Home address. South Main St., 
 
 Cohasset, Mass. 
 
 WILLIAMS, THOMAS W. Enl. May 24, 1917. Mech., Aug. 10, 1917. 
 
 Home address, 25 Alexander St., Framingham, Mass. 
 WILLIAMS, WILLIAM E. Assgd. to Btry. as 2nd Lt., Nov., 1918. Home 
 
 address , 1707 Congress Ave., Austin, Texas. 
 WILLIAMS, WILLIAM E. Enl. June 21. 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Julv 
 
 27, 1918. Pvt., 1 CI., Nov. 12, 1918. Home address, 1014 Gratis St, 
 
 Des Moines, Iowa. 
 WILNER, JOSEPH. Enl. Mar. 29. 1917. Mess S^jt., June, 1917, to Oct., 
 
 1918. Trans, to the Central Printing Office, Paris, Nov., 1918. Home 
 address, 92 Lawrence St., Roxbury. Mass. 
 
 WILSON, RALPH E. Enl. May 28, 1917. Trans, to 2nd Div., Jan. 
 
 1918. Returned to Btry. as Corp., Mar., 1919. Home address, 483 
 Central St., Lowell, Mass. 
 
 WINTER, CHARLES F. Enl. Apr. 9, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Aug. 28. 
 
 1917, from Me. Coast Art. Bugler, Jan. 1, 1919. Pvt., 1 CI., Mar., 
 
 1919. Home address, 47 Paris St., Portland, Me. 
 
 WOLCOTT, JASPER R. Enl. Aug. 2, 1918. Assgd. to Btry., Dec, 
 
 1918. Home address, Colton, Ohio. 
 
 WRIGHT, COURTNEY C. Enl. May 10, 1917. Home address, 31 
 
 Washington St., Maiden, Mass. 
 WRIGHT, WHITELAW. Enl. June 20, 1916. Trans, from 26th Div., 
 
 July 17, 1918. Home address, Highland Court Hotel, Hartford, Conn. 
 YOUNG, GEORGE W. Enl. May 30, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., July 28, 
 
 1918. Home address, Wapello, Iowa. 
 ZAKAS, NICHOLAS. Enl. Mar. 27, 1917. Assgd. to Btry., Sept. 13, 
 
 1918. Home address, 59 N. Sitgreaves St., Iiaston, Pa. 
 ZWINGE, JOSEPH W. Enl. July 25, 1917. Pvt., 1 CI.. Mar. 29, 1918. 
 
 Died of wounds, Apr. 16, 1918. Home address, 104 Summer St., 
 
 Arlington, Mass. 
 
256 
 
 BATTERY A 
 
 THE BATTERY 
 
 As It Looked in November, 1917, at Camp Coetquidan, France 
 
 Capt. Huntington 
 
 1st Lieut. Clarke 
 1st Lieut. Knauth 
 
 2nd Lieut. Plummer 
 2nd Lieut. Kirwan 
 
 BATTERY HEADQUARTERS 
 1st Sgt. Storer Bn. Agent Corp. Beck Bugler Lynch 
 
 Guidon O'Shaughnessy Bugler Noonan Bugler Smith, L. M. 
 
 
 FIRST SECTION 
 
 
 
 
 Sgt. Blackmur 
 
 
 
 Corp. Drew 
 
 Pvt. Day, D. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Murray 
 
 Corp. Johnson, C. B. 
 
 Pvt. Day, CM. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Priebe 
 
 Pvt. Apollonio 
 
 Pvt. Plante 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Shedd 
 
 Pvt. Kimball 
 
 Pvt. Foster 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Zwinge 
 
 Pvt. Scale 
 
 Pvt. Burnham 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Johnson, G. A. 
 
 Pvt. Williams, L. B. 
 
 Pvt. Fox 
 
 SECOND SECTION 
 Sgt. Hoar 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Joyce 
 
 Corp. Kunhardt 
 
 Pvt. Field 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Johnson, C. P. 
 
 Corp. Conway 
 
 Pvt. Foley, L.L. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Cleary 
 
 Pvt. O'Day 
 
 Pvt. Foley, T.C. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Calkin 
 
 Pvt. Welch, F.E. 
 
 Pvt. Fowler 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Gleason 
 
 Pvt. McCarthy 
 
 Pvt. Hurley 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Shepley 
 
 Pvt. Estabrook 
 
 Pvt. Goodwin 
 
 THIRD SECTION 
 Sgt. Catton 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Tailby 
 
 Corp. Ripley 
 
 Pvt. Devaney 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Eldridge 
 
 Corp. Gifford 
 
 Pvt. Hibbard 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Jopp 
 
 Pvt. Bond 
 
 Pvt. McArdle 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Nelson 
 
 Pvt. Chapin 
 
 Pvt. Rigby 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Spiers 
 
 Pvt. Barnes 
 
 Pvt. Smith, T.W. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Welch, W. R. 
 
 Pvt. Bowers, E. A. 
 
 Pvt. Temple 
 
 FOURTH SECTION 
 Sgt. DeVeau 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Kennedy, J. C. 
 
 Corp. Mann 
 
 Pvt. Webster 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Sylvester 
 
 Corp. Wheelwright 
 
 Pvt. Barlow 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Barry 
 
 Pvt. Farnsworth 
 
 Pvt. Ellis 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Killeen 
 
 Pvt. McCann 
 
 Pvt. Maguire 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Soule 
 
 Pvt. Potter 
 
 Pvt. Ricker 
 
 Pvt. Doughty 
 
 FIFTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Durant 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Howland 
 
 Corp. Abbott 
 
 Pvt. Morris 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Dunn 
 
 Corp. Lloyd 
 
 Pvt. Thurston 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 LeMoine 
 
 Pvt. Austin 
 
 Pvt. Clark 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Nickerson 
 
 Pvt. Cook 
 
 Pvt. Garner 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Quinn 
 
 Pvt. Fyler 
 
 Pvt. Arnold 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Dean 
 
 Pvt. Fernberg 
 
 Pvt. Bowers, L.W. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Powell 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 257 
 
 SIXTH SECTION 
 
 
 Sgt. Gage 
 
 
 
 Corp. SnelUng 
 
 Pvt. Hackett 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Jensen 
 
 Corp. Bird 
 
 Pvt. Hall 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Knight 
 
 Pvt. Hafer 
 
 Pvt. Hoyt 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Locke 
 
 Pvt. Horn 
 
 Pvt. Farrar 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Loom is 
 
 Pvt. Lyford 
 
 Pvt. Lane 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Stewart 
 
 Pvt. Eykelbosch 
 
 Pvt. James 
 
 Pvt. Kennedy, C.Y. 
 
 SEVENTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Knauth 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 [ 
 
 Waldo 
 
 Corp. Rogers, W. B. 
 
 Pvt. Sawyer 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Saindon 
 
 Corp. Harding 
 
 Pvt. Charlton 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Smith. C. H. 
 
 Pvt. Kent 
 
 Pvt. Martin 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Standish 
 
 Pvt. Knox 
 
 Pvt. Murphy 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Winter 
 
 Pvt. Lawrence 
 
 Pvt. Parker 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Tilley 
 
 Pvt. Macfarland 
 
 Pvt. Prebensen 
 
 EIGHTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Faulkner 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Plyn'pton 
 
 Corp. Hooper 
 
 Pvt. Shackelford 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Sullivan, L. R. 
 
 Corp. Lancaster, B. 
 
 (Btry. Clerk) 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Turner 
 
 Pvt. Burns 
 
 Pvt. Frank 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Waltz 
 
 Pvt. Glidden 
 
 Pvt. Laity 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Wright, C. C. 
 
 Pvt. Alden 
 
 Pvt. Rodliff 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Bateman 
 
 Pvt. Stevens 
 
 Pvt. Sullivan, W. L. 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Dunklee 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Tyler Pvt. 
 
 Wil: 
 
 5on 
 
 Sta. Sgt. Tornrose 
 Mess Sgt. Wilner 
 Ch. Mech. Burden 
 Saddler Hart 
 Mech. Brown 
 
 Corp. Furness 
 Corp. Lancaster, S. 
 
 NINTH SECTION 
 Sply. Sgt. Fall 
 Mech. Williams 
 Mech. Fisher 
 Cook Lorenzen 
 Cook Cosgrove 
 Cook Peterson 
 
 SIGNAL DETAIL 
 Sgt. James 
 Pvt. Peabody 
 Pvt. Curtis 
 
 Pvt. Derby 
 
 Horse Sh'r Bailey 
 Horse Sh'r Hunt 
 Pvt. Balch 
 Pvt. Speight 
 Pvt. MacDonald 
 
 Pvt. Ritchie 
 Pvt. Cunningham 
 
 Corp. Allen 
 
 Corp. Gammell 
 
 INSTRUMENT DETAIL 
 Sgt. Merriam 
 
 Corp. McSweeney 
 Pvt. Rowan 
 
 SCOUTS 
 
 Pvt. Chandler 
 
 Corp. Rogers, H. 
 
258 
 
 BATTERY A 
 
 THE BATTERY 
 
 As It Looked Before Sailing for the United States — March, 1919 
 
 Capt. Huntington 
 
 2nd Lieut. Williams 
 2nd Lieut. Johnson 
 2nd Lieut. Kunhardt 
 1st Sgt. Fall 
 
 1st Lieut. Storer 
 1st Lieut. Ho mm el 
 
 Corp. Devaney 
 Corp. Stevens 
 P'vt. Day, D. 
 Pvt. Quinn 
 Pvt. Dunn 
 Pvt. Apollonio 
 
 Corp. Hafer 
 Corp. Caveny 
 Pvt. Goodwin 
 Pvt. Calkin 
 
 Pvt. 
 
 Corp. Horn 
 
 Corp. Lane 
 
 Pvt. Plante 
 
 Pvt. Kennedy, C.Y. 
 
 Pvt. Tower 
 
 Corp. Fowler 
 Corp. Ricker 
 Pvt. Dyer 
 Pvt. Arnold 
 Pvt. Tyler 
 (mail clerk) 
 
 Corp. Curtis 
 Corp. Johnson, C. P. 
 Pvt. Alden 
 Pvt. Simmons 
 Pvt. Fitzpatrick 
 
 FIRST SECTION 
 Sgt. Abbott 
 Pvt. Burns 
 Pvt. Martin 
 Pvt. Plympton 
 Pvt. O'Shaughnessy 
 Pvt. Carlson, M. L. 
 Pvt. Field 
 
 Pvt. Dean 
 
 Pvt. Maguire 
 
 Pvt. Foley 
 
 Pvt. Campbell, J. E. 
 
 Pvt. Lynch 
 
 Pvt. Mersky 
 
 Pvt. Luing 
 
 SECOND SECTION 
 Sgt. Conway 
 
 Pvt. Smith, T.W. Pvt. Hall 
 
 Pvt. Cope Pvt. Kison 
 
 Pvt. Shepley Pvt. Connell 
 
 Pvt. Wright, W. Pvt. Parker 
 
 Clark Pvt. Pontrish 
 
 THIRD SECTION 
 Sgt. Rogers, W. B. 
 
 Pvt. Knight 
 
 Pvt. Farrar 
 
 Pvt. Cosgrove 
 
 Pvt. Harlow 
 
 Pvt. Barnes 
 
 Pvt. MacGregor 
 (Guidon) 
 
 FOURTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Chandler 
 Pvt, Doughty 
 Pvt. Burnham 
 Pvt. Barlow 
 Pvt. Johnson, G. A. 
 Pvt. Young 
 Pvt. Garner 
 
 Pvt. Harriman 
 
 FIFTH SECTION 
 Sgt. O'Day 
 Pvt. Powell 
 Pvt. Atkinson 
 Pvt. Nickerson 
 Pvt. Marshall 
 Pvt. Barbee 
 
 Pvt. Hudson 
 
 Pvt. Agnew 
 
 Pvt. Towles 
 
 Pvt. Vandenberg 
 
 Pvt. Jennings 
 
 Pvt. MacDonald, E. N. 
 
 Pvt. Sullivan, L. R. 
 
 Pvt. Soule 
 
 Pvt. Locke 
 
 Pvt. Rodliff 
 
 Pvt. Murphy 
 
 Pvt. Dzeikwiewz 
 
 Pvt. Nolan 
 
 Pvt. Laity 
 
 Pvt. Railey 
 
 Pvt. Fuchs 
 
 Pvt. Hunt 
 
 Pvt. Shackelford 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 259 
 
 SIXTH SECTION 
 
 Corp. James 
 Corp. Turner 
 Pvt. McArdle 
 Pvt. Forrest 
 Pvt. Rogers, D. 
 
 Pvt. Speight 
 
 Sgt. Gifford 
 Pvt. Hibbard 
 Pvt. Welch, W.R. 
 Pvt. Nelson 
 Pvt. Zakas 
 Pvt. Pilgrim 
 
 Pvt. Campbell, E. A. 
 Pvt. Bowers 
 Pvt. Hummell 
 Pvt. Taylor 
 Pvt. Tilley 
 Pvt. Prebensen 
 
 Corp. Kennedy, J. C. 
 Corp. Kimball 
 Pvt. Jopp 
 Pvt. Shellady 
 Pvt. Hurley 
 
 Corp. Bond 
 Corp. Day, C. M. 
 Pvt. Lyford 
 Pvt. Cleary 
 Pvt. Beal 
 
 SEVENTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Snelling 
 
 Pvt. Williams, W. E. 
 Pvt. Austin 
 Pvt. Fernberg 
 Pvt. Martin, W. 
 Pvt. Linsey 
 
 Pvt. Reichert 
 
 EIGHTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Macfarland 
 Pvt. Dunklee 
 Pvt. Rogers, C. 
 Pvt. Holifield 
 Pvt. Carmichael 
 Pvt. Pratt 
 
 Pvt. Shedd 
 
 Pvt. Tonrose 
 
 Pvt. Janes 
 
 Pvt. Wassmer 
 
 Pvt. Edwards 
 
 Pvt. Jensen 
 
 Pvt. Carlson, L. C 
 Pvt. Kiper 
 Pvt. White 
 Pvt. Wolcott 
 Pvt. Sullivan, W.L. 
 Pvt. Norton 
 
 Ch. Mech. Hackett 
 
 Mech. Brown 
 
 Mech. Williams, T. W. 
 
 Mech. Fisher 
 
 Mech. MacDonald, F. E. 
 
 Cook Frank 
 
 (Act. Mess Sgt.) 
 Cook Lorenzen 
 
 Corp. Lancaster, S. 
 Corp. Wilson 
 Corp. Rushton 
 
 NINTH SECTION 
 Sply. Sgt. Cook 
 Cook Fox 
 Cook Harrington 
 Cook Nobles 
 Cook Densmore 
 Sta. Sgt. Shahan 
 Saddler Hart 
 Horse Sh'r Bailey 
 Horse Sh'r Colton 
 Pvt. Renty 
 
 TENTH SECTION 
 Sgt. Welch, F. E. 
 Mech. Bloom 
 Pvt. Sigel 
 Pvt. Belt 
 
 Pvt. Sherman 
 
 Horse Sh'r Moynihan 
 Pvt. Armagost 
 Pvt. Tullo 
 
 (barber) 
 Pvt. Sansone 
 
 (tailor) 
 Pvt. Forzato 
 
 (cobbler) 
 
 Pvt. Tanner 
 Pvt. Helfenberg 
 Pvt. Sanich 
 
 Corp. Bird 
 
 INSTRUMENT DETAIL 
 Sgt. Allen 
 Corp. Derby Pvt. 
 
 Pvt. Loomis 
 
 Foster 
 
 Corp. Murray 
 Pvt. Saindon 
 
 SIGNAL DETAIL 
 Sgt. Ritchie 
 Pvt. Smith, CH. 
 Pvt. Eykelbosch 
 
 Pvt. Joyce 
 
 Pvt. McSweeney 
 
260 
 
 BATTERY A 
 
 Pvt. Thurston 
 
 Corp. Rogers, H. 
 Sgt. McCann 
 
 Pvt. Smith, L.M. 
 
 MACHINE GUN SQUAD 
 Corp. Knox 
 Pvt. Wright, C. C. Pvt. Lancaster, B. 
 
 Pvt. Charlton 
 
 SCOUTS 
 
 BATTERY HEADQUARTERS 
 
 Sgt. Waltz Sgt. King 
 
 Corp. Estabrook (Btry. Clerk) 
 
 BUGLERS 
 
 Pvt. Kent 
 
 Corp. Potter 
 
 Pvt. Winter 
 
APPENDIX 261 
 
 BATTLES IN WHICH BATTERY A PARTICIPATED 
 
 CHEMIN DES DAMES 
 
 February 2 to March 19, 1918 
 
 Moulin Rouge Raid Feb. 23, 1918 
 
 Pont Oger Raid March 17, 1918 
 
 TOUL 
 
 April 3 to June 27, 1918 
 
 Mamey Raid May 24, 1918 
 
 Flirey May 27, 1918 
 
 Richecourt Raid May 31, 1918 
 
 Xivrey-Marvoisin June 16, 1918 
 
 Bois Jure June 19, 1918 
 
 CHATEAU-THIERRY— AISNE-MARNE OFFENSIVE 
 
 July 5 to August 4, 1918 
 
 Torcy, Belleau, Bouresches, Givry July 18, 1918 
 
 Etrepilly, La Gonetrie Farm July 20, 1918 
 
 Epieds, Trugny, Courpoil July 22, 1918 
 
 Croix Rouge Farm, Croix Blanche Farm, Beuvardes July 26, 1918 
 
 The Ourcq, Sergy, Nesles, Meurcy Farm July 30 — Aug. 3, 1918 
 
 The Vesle, La Tuilerie Aug. 3-4, 1918 
 
 ST. MIHIEL 
 
 September 12 to October 10, 1918 
 
 Mouilly, St. Remy, Dommartin, Heights of the Meuse, Hattonchatel, 
 
 Sept. 12, 1918 
 
 St. Hilaire Raid Sept. 18, 1918 
 
 Butgneville Raid Sept. 22, 1918 
 
 Marcheville-Riaville Sept. 26, 1918 
 
 Bois De Wavrille Raid Oct. 2, 1918 
 
 VERDUN— MEUSE-ARGONNE OFFENSIVE 
 
 October 14 to November 11, 1918 
 
 Belieu Bois, Bois De Moirey Oct. 23, 1918 
 
 Molleville Farm, Houppy Bois, Bois D'Ormont Oct. 25, 1918 
 
 Bois Des Caures Nov. 10, 1918 
 
 Ville Devant Chaumont, Flabas Nov. 11, 1918 
 
262 BATTERY A 
 
 SOME NOTEWORTHY FACTS IN THE BATTERY'S RECORD 
 
 The Battery was the first National Guard Battery to land in Europe 
 (Sept. 23, 1917). 
 
 The Battery fired the first shot of the National Guard against the 
 Germans (Feb. 5, 1918). 
 
 The Battery fired in the first Rolling Barrage of the American forces 
 against the Germans (Feb. 23, 1918). 
 
 The Battery was mentioned in the "Stars and Stripes," the official 
 A. E. F. paper, for its firing while supporting the 42nd Division in the 
 Aisne-Marne Offensive. 
 
 Thirteen men were killed in action during the war. 
 
 Thirty-nine men were wounded or gassed. 
 
 Three men received the Distinguished Service Cross. 
 
 Eighteen men were cited in Divisional Orders. 
 
 Since July 25, 1917, 334 men and officers passed through the rolls of 
 the Battery. 
 
 Between July 25, 1917, and April 29, 1919, 123 days were spent in 
 traveling from one place to another. 
 
 The Battery spent the night in 86 different places while in France. 
 
 The Battery occupied 32 different positions on the front. 
 
 The Battery spent exactly 223 days on the front. • 
 
 The Battery was in foreign service for 18 months and 21 days. 
 
 The men of the Battery represented 35 different states, including Can- 
 ada and England. 
 
 The Battery fired a total of 52,295 rounds, the third section piece alone 
 firing 14,005 rounds. 
 
 Two of the Battery's guns were destroyed by enemy shell fire, and 
 one was blown up. Two guns stayed in service through the whole period 
 of action. 
 
APPENDIX 263 
 
 THE ECHELONS 
 
 CHEMIN DES DAMES 
 
 Landry— Feb. 3 to March 19, 1918. 
 
 TOUL 
 
 Rangeval — April 3 to 12. 
 Boncourt — April 13 to May 10. 
 Rangeval — May 11 to May 22. 
 Andilly — May 23 to June 29. 
 
 CHATEAU-THIERRY 
 
 Citry— July 7-8, 1918. 
 Montreuil — July 8-17. 
 
 La Loge Farm — July 18-21 (Forward Echelon). 
 Grand Rue Farm — July 21-23 (Rear Echelon). 
 Roberts Farm — July 21-23 (Forward Echelon). 
 Epieds — July 24-28 (Rear Echelon). 
 Epieds-Courpoil — July 24-27 (Forward Echelon). 
 Croix Rouge Farm — July 28 (Forward Echelon). 
 Preaux Farm — ^July 29 — Aug. 2 (Forward Echelon). 
 Villeneuve — Aug. 2-3 (Forward Echelon). 
 La Tuilerie — Aug. 3-4 (Forward Echelon). 
 Beuvardes — July 28 — Aug. 5 (Rear Echelon). 
 
 ST. MIHIEL 
 
 Rupt (Le Trois Monts Bois)— Sept. 5-8, 1918. 
 
 Rupt (Ravine below position) — Sept. 9-13. 
 
 Rupt (Near position) — Sept. 12-13 (Forward Echelon). 
 
 Mouilly— Sept. 13-18 (Rear Echelon). 
 
 Hattonchatel — Sept. 13-14 (Forward Echelon). 
 
 Longeau Farm — Sept. 14-16 (Forward Echelon). 
 
 Above Dommartin — Sept. 16 — Oct. 2 (Forward Echelon). 
 
 Near Grand Tranchee — Oct. 2-10. 
 
 VERDUN 
 
 Bois De Sartelles— Oct. 2— Nov. 15, 1918. 
 Charny — (Forward Echelon). 
 
264 
 
 BATTERY A 
 
 THE STATES REPRESENTED IN THE BATTERY 
 
 Alabama 
 
 Arizona 
 
 Arkansas 
 
 California 
 
 Canada 
 
 Colorado 
 
 Connecticut 
 
 England 
 
 Florida 
 
 Idaho 
 
 Illinois 
 
 Indiana 
 
 Total— 35 
 
 Iowa 
 
 Kansas 
 
 Kentucky 
 
 Maryland 
 
 Maine 
 
 Massachusetts 
 
 Michigan 
 
 Missouri 
 
 Nebraska 
 
 New Hampshire 
 
 New Jersey 
 
 New York 
 
 Ohio 
 
 Oklahoma 
 
 Pennsylvania 
 
 Rhode Island 
 
 South Carolina 
 
 Tennessee 
 
 Texas 
 
 Utah 
 
 Virginia 
 
 Washington 
 
 Wisconsin 
 
 different States, including England and Canada. 
 
 THE GUNS— (FRENCH 75's) 
 
 FIRST SECTION 
 
 Gun No. 13364. Received at Coetquidan on Oct. 3, 1917. Fired 3330 
 
 rounds. Destroyed by enemy shellfire at Boncourt on April 21, 
 
 1918. 
 Gun No. 17164. "Lil." Received at Boncourt on April 22, 1918. 
 
 Fired 3410 rounds. Seriously damaged by enemy shellfire in Bel- 
 
 leau Woods on July 19, 1918. 
 Gun No. 13610. Received at Belleau Woods on July 20, 1918. Fired 
 
 9547 rounds. Turned in Jan. 17, 1919. 
 
 SECOND SECTION 
 
 Gun No. 14308. "Pinard." Received at Coetquidan on Oct. 3, 1917. 
 Fired 11,666 rounds. Turned in Jan. 17, 1919. 
 
 THIRD SECTION 
 
 Gun No. 13302. "Cafard." Received at Coetquidan on Oct. 3, 1917. 
 Fired 14,005 rounds. Turned in Jan. 17, 1919. 
 
 FOURTH SECTION 
 
 Gun No. 14207. "Xantippe." Received at Coetquidan on Oct. 3, 1917. 
 Fired 6004 rounds. Blew up at Paris Farm (Lucy Le Bocage) 
 on July 13, 1918. 
 Gun No. 12385. Received at Paris Farm on July 13, 1918. Fired 
 4831 rounds. Turned in Jan. 17, 1919. 
 
APPENDIX 265 
 
 A SUMMARY OF THE BATTERY'S MOVEMENTS 
 
 AND INTERESTING EVENTS 
 
 July 25, 1917 — April 29, 1919 
 
 1917 
 
 July 25. Called out. Assembled at the Commonwealth Armory, Boston, 
 
 Mass. 
 
 July 26. Arrived in Boxford, Mass. 
 
 July 31. Mustered into Federal Service. 
 
 Aug. 5. Drafted into Federal Service. 
 
 Sept. 7. Left Boxford. 
 
 Sept. 8. Arrived in New York and boarded S. S. Adriatic. 
 
 Sept. 9. (11 A. M.) Left New York. 
 
 Sept. 11. Arrived in Halifax. 
 
 Sept. 12. Sailed from Halifax with convoy. 
 
 Sept. 20. Picked up Destroyers. 
 
 Sept. 23. (8 A. M.) Landed in Liverpool, England. 
 
 Sept. 23. (11 P. M.) Arrived in Southampton. 
 
 Sept. 24. (6 P. M.) Sailed across Englisli Channel on S. S. Caesare. 
 
 Sept. 25. (6 A. M.) Arrived in Havre, France. 
 
 Sept. 25. (9 P. M.) Entrained at Havre. 
 
 COETQUIDAN 
 
 Sept. 27. (3 A. M.) Arrived at Camp Coetquidan, Guer, France. 
 
 Oct. 3. The French 75's arrived. 
 
 Oct. 24. Fired for the first time. 
 
 Nov. 10. The horses arrived. 
 
 CHEMIN DES DAMES 
 
 1918 
 
 Feb. 1. Left Coetquidan for the front. 
 
 Feb. 2. Detrained at Soissons. 
 
 Feb. 3. Hiked to Echelon at Landry. 
 
 Feb. 4. (night) Pairing Battery in1o position north of Ostel. 
 
 Feb. 5. Fired the first shot against the Germans. 
 
 Feb. 23. Fired our first rolling barrage. 
 
 Mar. 19. Left the Chemin Des Dames for the Rest Billets. 
 
 Mar. 20. Detrained at Brienne Le Chateau; marched to Radonvillers. 
 
 Mar. 24. Road march to La Chaise. 
 
 Mar. 25. Road march to Thil. 
 
 Mar. 26. Road march to Brachay. 
 
 Mar. 27. Road march to Signeville (our permanent billets). 
 
 Mar. 30. Road march to Neufchateau. 
 
 Mar. 31. Road march to Allain. 
 
 Apr. 1. Road march to Bois L'Eveque. 
 
 Apr. 2. Road march to Bruley. 
 
 Apr. 3. Road march to Rangeval. 
 
266 BATTERY A 
 
 TOUL 
 
 Apr. 3. (night) First Plat, relieved 2 guns of E Btry., 7th F. A., in 
 position back of Rambucourt. 
 
 Apr. 4. (night) Second Plat, relieved 2 guns of E Btry., 7th F. A., in 
 swamp position west of Mandres. 
 
 Apr. 8. (night) First Plat, moved back to swamp position. 
 
 Apr. 12. (night) Road march to new echelon at Boncourt. 
 
 Apr. 13. Firing Battery into position near Fort Liouville. 
 
 Apr. 20. (night) Firing Battery moved back to position formerly occu- 
 pied by F Battery. 
 
 May 10. (night) Relieved by B Battery. 
 
 May 11. Road march back to old echelon at Rangeval. 
 
 May 11. (night) Firing Battery into B Btry's swamp position west of 
 Mandres. 
 
 May 20. (night) Firing Battery motored by truck to Gezoncourt. 
 
 May 21. (night) Firing Battery into position north of Mamey. 
 
 May 24. (night) Back to Gezoncourt. 
 
 May 25. (night) Firing Battery into position at Bernecourt. 
 
 May 24. Echelon moved from Rangeval to Andilly. 
 
 June 26. (night) First Plat, relieved. 
 
 June 27. (night) Second Plat, relieved. 
 
 June 28. (night) Road march to Troussey. 
 
 June 30. (night) R. R. trip to Dammartin, entraining from Vaucouleurs. 
 
 CHATEAU-THIERRY 
 
 July 1. (night) Road march to Boutigny. 
 
 July 4. (night) Road march to Jouarre. 
 
 July 5. (night) Road march; Echelon to Citrey. Firing Battery to 
 
 Limon. 
 July 6. (night) First and Second Plats, into separate reserve positions 
 
 near St. Aulde. 
 July 7. (night) Second Plat, relieved Plat, of A Battery of 12th F. A. 
 
 near Paris Farm. 
 July 8. (night) First Plat, relieved Plat of A Battery of 12th F. A. 
 
 in "silent position," Paris Farm. 
 July 8. (night) Echelon moved to Montreuil. 
 July 18. Firing Battery moved to position in Belleau Woods northwest of 
 
 Lucy. 
 July 18. Forward echelon moved forward to La Loge Farm. 
 July 21. Firing Battery moved forward to position near St. Robert Farm. 
 July 23. Firing Battery advanced to position between Epieds and Courpoil. 
 July 21. Rear Echelon moved forward to the Grand Rue Farm. 
 July 24. Rear Echelon moved to Epieds. 
 July 28. (night) Firing Battery advanced to position near the Croix 
 
 Rouge Farm. 
 July 29. (night) Firing Battery advanced to position near the Esperance 
 
 Farm. 
 July 30. Rear Echelon moved up to Beuvardes. 
 Aug. 2. Firing Battery advanced to position near Sergy. 
 Aug. 3. Firing Battery advanced to position near La Tuilerie. 
 Aug. 4. (night) Relieved; road march back to Beuvardes. 
 
 THE REST PERIOD 
 
 Aug. 5. (night) Road march to Essomes. 
 Aug. 7. Road march to Mery. 
 
 Aug. 15-16. R. R. trip from La Ferte sous Jouarre to Bar Sur Seine; road 
 march from Bar Sur Seine to Gommeville. 
 
APPENDIX 267 
 
 ST. MIHIEL 
 
 Aug. 31. Road march to Poincon; R. R. trip from Poincon to Tronville; 
 
 road march to Tannois. 
 Beauvardes — July 28 — Aug. 5 (Rear Echelon). 
 Sept. 2. (night) Road march to woods near Anglemont Farm. 
 Sept. 5. (night) Road march to woods north of Rupt en Woevre. 
 Sept. 8. (night) Firing Battery moved to old French position east of 
 
 Rupt; echelon to ravine in rear. 
 Sept. 13. Firing Battery advanced to position near Hattonchatel. 
 Sept. 14. Firing Battery moved back to position near Longeau Farm. 
 Sept. 14. Rear Echelon moved up to Mouilly. 
 Sept. 16. Firing Battery moved to position above Dommartin. 
 Sept. 19. (night) Firing Battery moved down to Herbeuville on Woevre 
 
 Plain. 
 Sept. 23. Rear echelon moved to woods south of Longeau Farm. 
 Sept. 24. (night) Third and Fourth pieces out to positions near Wadon- 
 
 ville as sniping guns. 
 Sept. 28. Forward Echelon moved back to woods south of Longeau Farm. 
 Oct. 2. (night) Firing Battery moved up to B Battery's old position 
 
 north of Dommartin. 
 Oct. 10. (night) Relieved; road march to woods between Mouilly and 
 
 Rupt. 
 
 VERDUN 
 
 Oct. 11. (night) Road march to the Bois De Sartelles, near Verdun. 
 Oct. 15. (night) Road march to position in "Death Valley" on crest 
 
 south of Haumont ; Forward Echelon to Charny. 
 Oct. 23. (night) Firing Battery moved forward to position north of 
 
 Haumont in "Death Valley." 
 Nov. 1. (night) First Plat, relieved plat, of French in old position near 
 
 Haudromont Farm. 
 Nov. 2. (night) Second Plat relieved plat, of French in old position 
 
 near Haudromont Farm. 
 
 THE ARMISTICE 
 
 Nov. 14. Echelon moved to Bois De Thierville. 
 Nov. IS. Echelon moved to Seracourt. 
 Nov. 15. Firing Battery moved by truck to Seracourt. 
 Nov. 16. Road march to Ville Devant Belrain. 
 Nov. 18. Road march to Erize St. Dizier. 
 Nov. 21. Road march to Guerpont. 
 Nov. 28. Road march to Gery. 
 
 Dec. 19-20. Road march to Ligny; R. R. trip to La Ferte; road march to 
 1919 
 
 Varennes. 
 Jan. 17. Turned in guns and material. 
 
 Jan. 22-23. (night) Road march to Vitrey; R. R. trip to Mayet. 
 Feb. 19. Divisional Review by General Pershing. 
 Mar. 27-28. R. R. trip to Brest. 
 
 Mar. 31. (1 P. M.) Sailed for the U. S. on S. S. Agamemnon. 
 Apr. 7. Arrived in Boston. 
 Apr. 22. Divisional Review at Camp Devens. 
 Apr. 25. Divisional Parade in Boston. 
 Apr. 29. Discharged. 
 
268 BATTERY A 
 
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APPENDIX 
 
 269 
 
 BATTERY POSITIONS OCCUPIED ON THE FRONT 
 
 CHEMIN DES DAMES 
 Ostel 
 
 TOUL 
 
 *Rambucourt 
 
 Rambucourt (Swamp pos.) 
 
 Fort Liouville 
 
 Boncourt 
 
 Mandres (Swamp pos.) 
 
 Mamey 
 
 Bernecourt 
 
 CHATEAU-THIERRY 
 
 St. Aulde (1 & 2) 
 (Reserve pos.) 
 Paris Farms (1 & 2) 
 Belleau Woods 
 St. Robert Farm 
 Epieds-Courpoil 
 Croix Rouge Farm 
 Esperance Farm 
 Sergy 
 La Tuilerie 
 
 ST. MIHIEL 
 Rupt 
 
 Hattonchatel 
 Longeau Farm 
 Dommariin 
 Herbeuville (1 & 2) 
 Wadonville (1 & 2) 
 Dommartin (B's old pos.) 
 
 VERDUN 
 
 Haumont Crest 
 Haumont Ravine 
 Haudromont Farm 
 
 Date 
 
 1918 
 Feb. 4 — Mar. 19 
 
 Apr. 
 Apr. 
 Apr. 
 Apr. 
 May 
 May 
 May 
 
 3- 8 
 
 4-12 
 13-20 
 
 21 — May 10 
 11-19 
 20-24 
 24 — June 27 
 
 No. 
 rounds 
 fired 
 
 5435 
 
 47 
 1 
 
 604 
 
 3494 
 
 76 
 
 622 
 5362 
 
 July 6- 7 
 
 No. 
 
 men 
 
 killed 
 
 No. men 
 
 wounded 
 
 or gassed 
 
 July 
 
 8-18 
 
 
 5835 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 July 
 
 19-21 
 
 
 2346 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 July 
 
 21-23 
 
 
 1814 
 
 
 
 
 
 July 
 
 23-27 
 
 
 2807 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 July 
 
 28 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 July 
 
 28— Aug. 
 
 2 
 
 3982 
 
 
 
 
 
 Aug. 
 
 2- 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Aug. 
 
 3- 4 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sept. 
 
 8-13 
 
 
 2241 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sept. 
 
 13-14 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sept. 
 
 14-16 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sept. 
 
 16-19 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sept. 
 
 19 — Oct. 
 
 2 
 
 651 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 Sept. 
 
 24 — Oct. 
 
 2 
 
 1500 
 
 
 
 
 
 Oct. 
 
 2-10 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Oct. 
 
 15-23 
 
 
 1709 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 Oct. 
 
 23-31 
 
 
 2670 
 
 1 
 
 6 
 
 Oct. 
 
 31 — Nov. 
 
 11 
 
 2331 
 
 
 
 
 
* 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 020 935 619 3