Class_UillC Book_____.LL ,10 • ^-- , / COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. LtSdJTWidJ.l^eidJt? mwtwwwwwmwwfwi mmmmnmmmmm ZW^ t DUIMMUlMUIiliaMUUUlUMMU UIMMlMlMUUIIiliyillUIHlUMMtMMMMMyMMMMIWlUIIMl. A Hist oz^y of- Bd3±ezrA306FA MUtWMWlMMIItMIMMIMIMMUMyUMUUUrlilU^ IllM^-b?octioi\s, Decora-tioivs H . ^ . T" I ,s k: TK(t BcViiM\e Press NewYorl^ City 1 Q a 1 D«1? Copyright, 192 1, by The De Vinne Press OEC -5 !92! 0)CIA627979 to It^dJTWielJ.feidJi? " Ale,5.d(LP aa\d ir\spipep of Ttve:rv iiv life. e>jv3. iiv de.aJtK. -'-' Coi\ter\ts tt.35ir^elJReidJr?. TKe Ki$\,02y^^^l>z^^A CsJTVp UpcSOTX^iivwKicKibiafoxirvd '^tKfsrb i\oT\e of M3 kvew ^>xy ssm. Hve l?evi5.tK5J\ 5j\d Brest, wKs.TeiiY'bKe. 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FDipm^JvR..Dick 171 S o rs^ s, 180 1^1 CoTvteivts corvbiiwied 184 A Few re>..cts, R_Ost<^T of BeJl^te^PX'A, 189 197 Lxi] roreNvord treatise. jO unpretentious a volume scarcely warrants the digni- fied introduction of a preface, but the editors cannot well allow their friends of Battery "A" to hasten (eagerly, they trust) into the following pages without a few words explaining the character, the purpose, and the limitations of our publication. The Battery Book is not an exhaustive historical It is not a flag-waving glorification of our accomplish- ments, couched in the gilded phrases employed for raising lib- erty loans. It is not a solemn book of heroics, nor does it cloud our true memories of war with an undue profusion of humor. An exclusively humorous book we have taken pains to avoid, for how- ever amusing many of our experiences may now appear, neither the war nor our part in it could be called uproariously funny. Our book is a narrative, a brief narrative, of our war experiences, a sincere at- tempt to tell truly what we did, what we thought, and what we felt. Our thoughts regarding the war have undergone a marked change already, and will change still more as years go by; but this little volume, if it has any merit at all, may perhaps preserve for our future consideration something of the realism of war, something of its drudg- ery, its humor, and its horrors. If, thirty years hence, it brings back to us the days of Camp Upton and the France of 1918, we may find in it a deep source of comfort and pride, possibly even an inspiration to elevate our citizenship to a plane worthy of the sacrifice made by those we left asleep in France. The editors would like to have followed exactly the plans origi- nally laid out for the book, but it has been impossible to do so. Nathan Handler was unable to take time from his business to complete, and put into finished form, the work which he commenced in France, and the section allotted to him has necessarily been omitted. The personal histories were found incomplete, and we have not inserted the military citations as originally planned. The divisional and regimental histories supply both the personal remarks and the mili- tary commendations, so that our omission of them at least avoids unnecessary repetition, a circumstance which we look upon rather as a virtue than a fault. A conscious effort has been made to supple- ment the divisional and regimental books by supplying what they lack — an intimate insight into our daily experiences. The editors regret even more that they cannot make the book a personal record for each individual member of the battery, but for manifest reasons such a thing is beyond their ability. For similar reasons they have found great difficulty in doing justice to each department of the organization, because, as members of the gun crews, their knowledge of the other branches of the battery is limited. When the organization was not at the front, its various divisions were less distinct and our narrative will be of general interest; but while in the field, the drivers, cannoneers, and special detail were as- signed to their respective duties, and even camped in different places, and it has been totally beyond the power of the editors to describe adequately the varied actions of these individual groups, though an honest endeavor to do so has been made. Similarly, because the editors were not officers and were not admitted to official councils, they are incapable of giving the officers' point of view. The thoughts and feelings of those sequestered potentates have been left to Major Dick's pen. The sentiments which the battery held for its officers have been freely and we hope truly recorded. Those sentiments were a vital factor in our experiences, and to leave them unmentioned would be a gross omission. The battery is indebted to several of its members for contributing assistance to the publication of its history. The original rough draft of the book, compiled in France, was written from data supplied by the following men : Baecker, Feldman, Marriner, Mueller, Potts, and Steuterman. Hale's services in type-writing that draft were invalu- able, and the efforts of Gray and Stevens on the personal histories are greatly appreciated. We extend our thanks to Dunkak and Gibbons for collecting and managing the subscription funds turned in before demobilization, and to the many members of the battery who, by their advice and encouragement, nurtured the book in its tender in- fancy. It is almost superfluous to express our indebtedness to Fair- man R. Dick and Vernon B. Smith, for their work stands as con- spicuous evidence of its merit. The editors are happy to take this opportunity of expressing their gratitude for the splendid support given them by the several mem- bers of the organization who have taken it upon themselves, at the instigation of Major Dick, to join the latter in lending financial means for the publication of this volume. But for their generous aid the history of Battery "A" might not have been published for many months to come. The Editors, Francis L. Field Guy H. Richards New York City, August, ig2i. Cxv] ^\iU.56irv\Lel J.Reid Jt?|w |HE publication of The Battery Book was first conceived a few days after the armistice, while the battery was billeted in the shell-shattered town of Marcq. At a formation, held in a field adjoining the village, the plans for the book were submitted to the consideration of the battery, and without hesitation we unanimously insisted that the volume must be dedicated to our fallen leader. Lieutenant Reid. It is fitting that, in a book so dedicated, we should give way to our feelings to the extent of recording a few of the facts and a few of our sentiments which led us to that unhesitating decision. It is impossible for us to forget, and it is equally impossible for us to translate into print, what Lieuten- ant Reid meant to us in the dark days of the war. Yet, in an effort to satisfy our wish of expressing in some measure the devotion and respect he won from us, we write this brief account of his life, of the part he played in Battery "A," and of the intense admiration which he inspired in us. Lieutenant Reid was the second son of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel J. Reid, and was born on September 24, 1883, in Brooklyn, New York. He attended the public elementary schools, and later entered the Brooklyn Boys' High School, where he not only maintained an ex- cellent record for scholarship, but also won a name for himself in athletics. His career at Princeton University, 1902 to 1906, was a marked success from every standpoint. By dint of consistent hard work he stood high in his studies, yet won distinction for himself in a number of extra-curriculum activities. He was elected to the editorial board of The Princetonian, the college daily newspaper, an honor which, in itself, was a tribute to his powers for conscientious effort and vigi- lant application. He was elected a member of The Ivy Club, was voted the most popular man in his class, and in his Senior year was elected president of that class, perhaps the consummate honor which a college man may attain. He was devoted to athletics, partic- ularly to baseball, and at the end of his Freshman year won the distinction of being selected as catcher for the All-American base- Cxvii] ball team. During the remainder of his years at college he played third base and short-stop. He was elected captain of the varsity baseball team, and as a fitting close to his splendid athletic career, he gave Princeton the intercollegiate championship by making the winning run in the last championship game of the season with Yale. After leaving Princeton, Lieutenant Reid entered the New York Law School, from which institution he graduated in 1908. Upon his admission to the bar he entered the law firm of William F. Mc- Coombs, as a law clerk, and later joined the legal department of the Brooklyn Rapid Transit Company, where he made a reputation for himself as a successful trial lawyer. Subsequently he was appointed Assistant United States District Attorney in the Second District of New York (Brooklyn). In this capacity he quickly won the esteem of the federal judges by his integrity and unimpeachable methods of practising law. When the news of his death reached this country this same court held memorial services in his honor, and caused a resolution of commemoration to be spread upon its official records. Resigning as Assistant District Attorney, he was appointed a referee in bankruptcy and took up private practice, associating himself with the law firm of King & Booth, and later with that of Morgan, Carr & Baiter. America's declaration of war on Germany found Lieutenant Reid a young lawyer of great promise, embarked upon a career which gave every indication of leading to high honors in the legal world. At that time Lieutenant Reid was above the age established by the Selective Service Act, and consequently not subject to enforced mil- itary service. It is a well established fact that he could have had a commission as major in the Judge Advocate's Department of the army, but he refused such a position because, as he often remarked, he was convinced that the issues of the war would be decided on the battle-field. On one occasion, when asked why he preferred the com- batant to the non-combatant branch of the service, he expressed this conviction, and added, "That's where the crosses of war lie." He used to chafe under the delays which held the battery in the States, and often said that he would rather be anything in Pershing's army than an officer in America. He enlisted in May, 191 7, in the First Officers' Training Camp at Plattsburg, New York, where he successfully completed the course in artillery. He was recommended for a captaincy, but the number of captaincies to be granted was reduced at the last moment, so he accepted the lower rank of first lieutenant, relying on his energy and devotion to his work to win him promotion. On leaving Plattsburg [xviii] he was ordered to Camp Upton, and was there assigned to Battery "A" in September, 191 7. During his first three months with us he devoted himself to drilling and conditioning the raw recruits. We can well remember him in his particular duty of leading the battery on long hikes every afternoon, hikes which sometimes left us tired and sore, but which seemed to fatigue him little. He apparently possessed wonderful stamina and endurance, for he always finished fresh and strong. His evenings were mostly spent in his quarters studying military books. In December, when Major Dick (then Captain) was ordered to the School of Fire in Fort Sill, the command of the battery fell to Lieutenant Reid. For three months he had the development of the organization completely in his own hands. Then, for the first time, the attributes which won our respect and trust were revealed to us in full. We learned what a splendid man he was, learned that an officer can enforce the prerogatives of his rank without being imperious, and learned that discipline and kindness are compatible. Those of us who sailed to Europe on the Leviathan will never for- get his conduct during the voyage. Living under unbearable con- ditions, crowded below deck in hot, unventilated quarters, harassed by numberless restrictions, we were miserable, and our morale was deplorably low. Time and again Lieutenant Reid was to be found in our quarters, talking with us, counseling us, encouraging us, and endeavoring by a word here and an act there to ease the severity of our predicament. On one occasion, when the supply of drinking water was shut ofi" for several hours, he took groups of men to his quarters on the officers' deck (forbidden to enlisted men) and there filled their canteens from the officers' fresh water supply. It was un- doubtedly a breach of discipline which would have been gravely frowned upon by higher authorities, but we were really in distress from a lack of water, and Lieutenant Reid was unwilling that his men should sufl'er if he could prevent it, even at the risk of receiving a reprimand. It was his constant consideration for us, his unfailing fair-mindedness, that won our affection and loyalty. Our welfare was always in his mind and his welfare in ours. When, in Camp de Souge, he was relieved from the duties of firing executive and assigned to the supervision of work at the stables, we were dismayed. True, that no more competent man could have been found in the battery to handle the position, but it seemed unfair, damnably unfair, even to the drivers who were delighted to be under his tutelage, that the ranking lieutenant of the regiment and the fir- ing executive of the battery should be sequestered at the stables, dt- prived of an opportunity of gaining practical experience in di- recting practice fire on the range. To those in the ranks his transfer seemed nothing less than a demotion, nor were they alone in their opinion, for many officers of the regiment expressed the same judg- ment. Lieutenant Reid said little about the matter, but his men appreciated how deeply chagrined he was. One of his non-commis- sioned officers once spoke to him disparagingly on the subject of patriotism. His reply was, "Always remember. Sergeant, we are not fighting for any individual, but for high principles and for the coun- try." Whatever his own grievances may have been, he apparently never lost sight of the greater issues of the war. The sincerity of his patriotism and his loyalty to principle could never for a moment be questioned. It is a comforting fact to realize that, in the face of such ideals as he held, he could treat his personal misfortunes as com- paratively insignificant. However, despite his transfer, Lieutenant Reid was promised an opportunity to fire a problem on the range. His chance never came, but the men at the guns were expecting day after day to operate the pieces at his command, and made arrangements with the special detail men in the observation posts to send down word when his turn came, in order that the cannoneers might redouble their efforts to operate the howitzers with absolute accuracy. About two weeks before we left Camp de Souge, Captain Dick was transferred from the battery to remain at the camp as an instructor. We were without a battery commander. Lieutenant Reid, as senior lieutenant, was put in temporary command, and our hopes were raised that the appointment would be permanent; but Lieutenant Reid was in a measure unprepared for the position, because he had had no training on the range, and we feared that this lack of necessary ex- perience might cost him the promotion. Who would be Captain Dick's successor? "An outsider from another battery," came the rumor, and our hearts sank. "Not so," came a second report. Would Lieutenant Reid command us? "Yes!" said one report. "No!" said another. "Perhaps," said a third, and the battery discussed wild schemes for petitioning the Colonel. But the uncertainty was sud- denly dispelled by the announcement, "Lieutenant Reid is battery commander!" There was not a man among us who did not whoop for joy. The morale of Battery "A" was never higher, and when, on the Fourth of July, we paraded through the crowded streets of Bordeaux led by our new commander, we positively bristled with pride and good spirits. Though Lieutenant Reid now stood in line for almost certain promotion, we realized that his appointment depended on the record he might make in handling the battery. He was on trial, and we appreciated the fact as fully as did he. We would have done any- thing to make his record above reproach, and the drudgery of our daily tasks was greatly alleviated by the sustaining determination to retain him as battery commander. In preparing to leave Camp de Souge, we all set to and worked like dogs to leave the barracks in spotless condition, to collect and pack all equipment, and later load it on board the train with speed and precision; in short, to show Colonel Smith that Battery "A" was the most efficient outfit in the A. E. F., and was commanded by the most efficient officer. When Lieutenant Reid came into the orderly room before we left the camp, he said to a group of us, "Well, there doesn't seem to be much for me to do. It's all done already." It was exceedingly gratifying to know that our efforts had produced a favorable impression, and later, when we heard that Colonel Smith had made complimentary remarks about the speed with which we loaded the troop train at Bonneau, we felt that our endeavors had not been in vain. It was his policy to give his men, and especially his non-coms, as much responsibility as they could handle, and his remark, just quoted, proves that on one occasion at least his confidence was not misplaced, and that his policy was fruitful of excellent results. It would be ridiculous to claim that we always lived up to his confi- dence in us, but certainly, when responsibility was given us, we had an unfailing desire to make good in his eyes, and except in the most adverse circumstances, we put forth our best efforts. What we call confidence was in many cases dependence, because, when he first took command, Lieutenant Reid was comparatively ignorant about the operation of the howitzers, and relied on his subordinates to help him out. He had not fired a single problem on the range, and was even unacquainted with the duties of the various cannoneers. How easily he might have pursued the course, which many officers fol- lowed, of attempting to hide a lack of knowledge under a show of sheer bluff, disdaining the judgment and training of the ranks, and struggling to maintain the dignity which accompanies a Sam Browne belt by looking severely intolerant. Lieutenant Reid was not of the caliber to entertain false pride and false pretenses. He openly ad- mitted his ignorance. He visited the gun-pits and frankly asked the gun sergeants to explain the nomenclature and operation of the how- itzers. He solicited the assistance of the instrument sergeant, a graduate engineer, and candidly acknowledged that the latter, with his education in higher mathematics, knew more about artillery than [xxi] he did. He seemed to learn quickly, for he seldom asked the same question twice. Any other man might possibly have lost the respect of his men by such frank admissions, but they had the opposite effect on us, for we admired him the more for his absolute sincerity and lack of self-conceit. He made us feel that we were there to cooperate with him and he with us in the common purpose of making Battery "A" an efficient organization. This spirit of cooperation sometimes produced an intimacy be- tween officer and man which would have sent cold shivers down the rigid spine of a West Point cadet. We conventionally think of an officer as an austere individual who must keep himself on a superior plane of unbending dignity, a man to be feared, not loved, and we conventionally think of a soldier as a machine to be greased and oiled and directed hither and yon. But the military regulations which designate a soldier as an automaton and an officer as a sort of exalted potentate in a feudalistic hierarchy fail to meet the demands of human nature, and particularly the natures of American citizens. Lieutenant Reid was governed in his actions by his heart and his knowledge of his men, and by military manuals only in so far as they served his conscience and his common sense. It never seemed to us that he overstepped the bounds of military propriety. Rather, he changed the nature of that propriety without losing the respect due to his rank. When, at the second Vesle position, we were suffering from long hours of hard work and from wretched rations, he steadily refused to take advantage of the supposed privileges of his rank. He refused to allow the cooks to go in quest of special food for him, but made every effort to get better rations which the whole battery might share with him. On the night of our arrival at the position, Mongeon failed to prepare Lieutenant Reid's bedding roll and fell asleep with- out telling where he had put it. The roll could not be found in the dark of the woods, but when Lieutenant Reid discovered that Mon- geon was asleep, he gave orders not to disturb him, because "the boy" was worn out from riding all day as a courier. He lay down outside the P. C, declining insistent offers of a bed in the dugout, and ac- cepting only under protest the blankets which were spread for his use by the two telephone men on duty. He said that they would need them before the night was over, but they naturally would not listen to him. In all things he considered, and we came to believe, that he lived with us, not apart from us. To any one who may claim that such conduct on the part of an officer is contrary to the interests of discipline and undermines the Cxxii] morale of a military unit, we might point out that Washington's repu- tation as a disciplinarian does not seem to have suffered because he gave his shoes to one of his men and marched barefooted through a biting snow-storm. We may say, also, that under the circumstances the morale of Battery "A" could not have been higher than it was under the leadership of Lieutenant Reid, and that, at the same time, dis- cipline never slackened. It is true that during the disheartening days at the second Vesle position, when constant work, miserable rations, and little rest made life a burden, our spirits were very low indeed; but the combined efforts of Napoleon, St. Peter, Venus, and Charlie Chap- lin would not have sufficed to make us cheerful. In those deadening circumstances we failed to meet Lieutenant Reid's expectations, and when some of the non-commissioned officers complained that men on detail were avoiding their fair share of work, he assembled all men at the position and gave us a scolding that made us feel cheaper than French mud. When discipline had to be enforced there was no more strict disciplinarian than our commander, but he never punished blindly or in anger. One tired individual got disgracefully drunk. He was given rigorous advice and light punishment. Another once told Lieutenant Reid a deliberate lie. He was court-martialed and sent to a military prison for six months. And woe to the man who was careless or made stupid mistakes! During the time when he was instructor at the stables he would never tolerate for an instant any mistreatment of the horses, and one day in the lines, when he dis- covered a few of the drivers violating one of his strictest orders — that no horse was to be watered with a bit in his mouth — the miscreants received a scathing arraignment the like of which they never wanted to hear again. The day following Lieutenant Reid's death his faithful orderly was struck and instantly killed by a fragment of a bursting shell. Before Mongeon's burial his diary was removed from his pocket. In it was found his entry for August 22d. We quote it because, with all its simple brevity, it expresses our thoughts of Lieutenant Reid far more adequately than can these pages. It said, "Lieutenant Reid was killed to-day — I have lost my best pal." In that touching senti- ment the secret of Lieutenant Reid's leadership seems revealed to us. He was our pal. One day he was met by a private who had known him in America but who had not seen him for several years. Hesitatingly the soldier advanced, saluted, and noticing the lieutenant's insignia said, "Ex- cuse me, sir, but are you Lieutenant Reid?" Recognizing him. Lieu- tenant Reid instantly replied, "No, Charlie, not Lieutenant — just Cxxiii] Sam." He was a comrade in the highest sense of the word. A cordial greeting, a smile, a few words were always ours when we met him. In Camp Upton it was his delight to come upon the men batting out a baseball on the ground between our two barracks. Unfailingly he asked permission to join in the game and would take up a bat and drive out flies. He seemed to value the inherent authority of his rank only as it offered opportunity for greater usefulness, and when hecould legitimately disregard the military barrier which separated us, he did so. The discreet intimacy which resulted between us vastly in- creased rather than diminished our respect for his authority, for added to the respect we held for his authority was the respect and admiration we held for his personality. He made it far easier to be willing subjects to discipline and the artificial distinctions of rank because he revealed to us the necessity for discipline and rank. If he, with all his sympathy and friendly kindness, saw the necessity of enforcing discipline, then we knew that absolute obedience was vital. There was perfect understanding between us, and such an under- standing we learned to believe was an important factor in the attain- ment of the greatest efficiency. Once the military barrier was tem- porarily passed, he was with us as a comrade, and even when it stood between us, high and forbidding, we knew that he was our friend. What we had to suffer in privation he gladly suffered with us, to show how privation could and should be borne. When he got sleep he saw that we did also. At the front he generally ate what we had to eat, and would always have done so had not the cooks of their own accord prepared special food for him. And on many a hike he dismounted from his horse and allowed the weary to take his place in the saddle. Lieutenant Reid once remarked, "If I could be captain of this battery I would be happy." He died before he could be officially in- formed of the fact that his commission as a captain had been ap- proved and granted; but let it be hoped that he died not without the realization that he had won more than a piece of metal to wear on his shoulder. He had fairly won the real respect, the affection, the admiration, and the intense devotion of hundreds of men. Few have won as much. We shall always remember him as a friend, a soldier, and a leader, but, above all, as a true American. [xxiv] i«f»iff*Wi(»iif1!i»mwiiiiwmiiii»fiwiBiwii^^ wwwwwunwwwwww 306 FieldArtilLz ejr UUUIUUiUIUlUIUIItyiUUUI • T is a distressing and oppressive duty, gentlemen of the Congress, which I have performed in thus address- ing you. There are, it may he, many months of fiery trial and sacrifice ahead of us. It is a fearful thing to lead this great, peaceful people into war, into the most terrible and disastrous of all wars, civilisation itself seeming in the balance. But the right is more precious than peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have always carried Clearest our hearts — for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own govern- ments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all nations and make the world itself at last free. "To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, every- thing that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do 7io other." ^ When these words resounded through the halls of Congress, the United States was confronted with the staggering problem of con- verting itself from a land of serene peace and prosperity into a tre- mendous military establishment. Not the least factor in that con- version was the creation of a huge army from peace-loving civilians, and as we write there are probably few of us who do not endorse the legislation which Congress enacted for that purpose. Reliance on the slow, uncertain system of volunteers would have been a ghastly mistake. Somehow Mr. Bryan's rhetorical flourish about a million men springing to arms overnight appears totally hollow. Perhaps he referred to an arctic night. It would have been unfair, as well as unwise, to shift the burden of fighting upon the shoulders of a few, for certainly the principle that all who enjoy the benefits of democ- 1 President Wilson's message to Congress, April 2, 1917. C3] racy shall contribute to the preservation thereof is sound. Further- more, volunteer enlistment was forbidden by the experience of his- tory. Consequently, with all this in mind, Congress, in accordance with plans of the War Department, passed the Selective Service Act, whereby every male citizen between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one should, with certain necessary exceptions, be available for induction into military service. A comprehensive description of the operation of the Selective Ser- vice Act, the system of districts, local boards, physical examinations, exemptions, and courts of appeal, would be quite beyond the scope of this history, but the manner in which the army first "got our number" is of particular interest to all of us. Suffice it to say that on June 5, 1917, we all made out registration cards, that each regis- trant was given a number, that these numbers, printed on slips of paper, were drawn from the great glass bowl in Washington, and that the rotation in which they were drawn determined the order in which the men whom they represented should be drafted. When the time of our call approached we were advised by our respective local boards to settle our affairs, and a few days prior to the actual day of induction we received an imposing-looking epistle called an "Order of Induction into Military Service of the United States," in which the President of the United States bade us a cordial "Greet- ing" and addressed us as follows: "Having submitted yourself to a local board composed of your neighbors for the purpose of determin- ing the place and time in which you can best serve the United States in the present emergency, you are hereby notified that you have now been selected for immediate military service." After being advised when and where to report, we were notified by the concluding sen- tence of the document that "From and after the day and hour just named you will be a soldier in the military service of the United States," or, as Buddy Childs might have expressed it, "You're in the army from now on." Before proceeding to narrate how we responded to this order, and how we got our first free ride on the railroad, we must digress to say a few words about the camp to which most of us came. The plans of the War Department called for the building of sixteen canton- ments in various parts of the United States for the training of the army. One of these was to be situated on a plot of ground about 9300 acres in area between Yaphank and Manor, Long Island, New York. The place at that time was a desolate wilderness of sand and scrub-oak, and famous for nothing but our great national bird, the mosquito. The latter became such a torment that laborers, sent there :43 to construct the camp, refused to continue their work, causing a labor shortage which was only obviated by an increase in wage. The cantonment to be erected on this spot was to be known as Camp Upton, in honor of Major-General Emory Upton; and the division to be trained there was to be known as the Seventy-seventh Division, with Major-General J. Franklin Bell, Commander of the Department of the East, in command. The construction of the camp was com- menced on June 25, 1917, and a few days later the Long Island Rail- road completed a two-mile spur from the main line into camp. After the scrub had been thinned out and temporary roads cut through, some ten thousand laborers were put to work erecting the twelve hundred buildings of which the camp was to consist. Besides staff offices, storehouses, a base hospital, and infirmaries, there were to be one hundred and ninety-five barracks, each capable of quartering about two hundred and fifty men. Intensive work showed great fruits, and by September loth the camp was ready to receive and accommodate the first small increment of two thousand men. On August 27th, General Bell, with his staff, arrived in Camp Up- ton, and simultaneously the plan for the Seventy-seventh Division was announced. The division was to be composed of the following large units: I52d Depot Brigade 153d Infantry Brigade 154th Infantry Brigade I52d Artillery Brigade 302d Engineers 302d Field Signal Battalion Trains, and Military Police. The 1 52d Field Artillery Brigade was to consist of three regiments, the 304th, 305th, both light artillery, and the 306th, heavy field-artil- lery. The 306th regiment was in turn composed of six batteries, as follows: Batteries "A" and "B" (ist Battalion), "C" and "D" (2d Battalion), "E" and "F" (3d Battalion), and two companies. Supply and Headquarters, the medical corps being a department of the sup- ply company. During the next week junior officers who were to command the division kept arriving, and were assigned or attached to various units. On September 17th, Captain Fairman R. Dick was assigned as commanding oflicer of Battery "A." On the same day. First Lieu- tenant Samuel J. Reid, Jr., Second Lieutenant William A. Vollmer, [5] and Second Lieutenant Herbert J. Swenson were also assigned. Sec- ond Lieutenant John H. Ketcham and Second Lieutenant Walter Burke were attached to the battery. All of the foregoing officers were graduates of the Plattsburg Training Camp, August 15, 191 7, 3d Battery, 2d Provisional Training Regiment. September 10, 191 7, saw the first contingent of men arrive in camp. It must be understood that while all of us who went to make up the battery did not arrive at this time, or even originally, in Camp Upton, a general description of the procedure by which men were withdrawn from their homes and sent to camp will apply in most of our individ- ual cases, and will serve sufficiently to recall that eventful day in our lives when we began our military careers. Summoned by the "Order of Induction" to appear at our respective local boards, we donned our least desirable suits of clothes and re- ported at the appointed hour. The assembled group of recruits was put under the supervision of one of their number, selected by the local board chairman, and this important personage was given the title of "district leader." Moving to the point of entrainment, we boarded troop trains while relatives and friends bade us good luck and God-speed. Arriving at Medford, the last stop before Camp Upton, an army officer boarded the train and called on the district leaders to surrender the records of the men of their groups. Upon detrainment at camp we were formed in double rank and answered roll-call. There we stood, soldiers yet still civilians, home and friends behind us, and before us we knew not what. Our feelings ranged from drunken hilarity to sober, quiet pondering. Our faces showed, perhaps, a mixed look of expectancy, curiosity, and concern; and, whether conscious of it or not, our thoughts found expression in these lines: "Oh that a man might know The end of this day's business ere it come, But it sufficeth that the day will end. And then the end be known." We were marched off over rough, uncompleted roads, thick with dust, around heaps of building material, over spur-tracks of the rail- road, past half-constructed barracks, all to the tune of carpenters' hammers which clattered with machine-gun-like precision. Reaching a nearly completed barrack, we were halted, and entering were as- signed our bunks. To each man was issued his first army equip- ment, which consisted of two olive-drab blankets, a bed-sack to be filled with straw, and a mess-kit. We were then introduced to [6: army "chow" in a manner which became painfully familiar to us. Passing along an ever tedious mess line to a counter, and armed with our newly acquired eating utensils, which we juggled with a diffi- culty born of inexperience, we made the acquaintance of army beans and that fluid which some demented people have called coffee. The cofifee-cup gave us more trouble, perhaps, than anything else, for it seemed to absorb all the heat of its contents. It became so hot that it would have blistered our lips had we attempted to drink from it. When it cooled off a bit we confidently grasped the handle, hoping to wash down a few beans, only to find, too late, that the handle catch was loose, and that the entire content was being swiftly dumped into the beans. Falling in on another line, we poured what had now become bean soup into a garbage can and completed our first mess by washing our mess-kits in soapy hot water and rinsing them in clear cold water. Thus endeth the first lesson. The day following arrival was occupied by physical examinations and mustering-in. As each man entered the medical barrack a num- ber was stamped on his bare arm — much like the branding of cattle, we thought — and passing into the first room, where a line of doctors awaited to receive him, he was thoroughly examined. Eyes, ears, heart, lungs, feet, throat, teeth, and other portions of the anatomy all received the careful consideration of the physicians. Recording the location of scars and other physical marks followed, and then we were placed in the hands — none too tender — of the vaccinating sur- geon, who passed us on to his partner in crime, the inoculating sur- geon. The inoculation was a hypodermic injection of typhoid anti- toxin, administered three times, with ten-day intervals. Few of us will forget the effects of the "needle" or the violent dislike we de- veloped for it. The inspectors concluded the examination by taking our finger prints (apparently we were to be treated like criminals) and, provided no physical defects were found, we were finally ac- cepted as fit subjects to withstand the privations of military service. Mustering-in, which took place immediately after the medical ex- amination, consisted of a general survey of the family tree and the opening of an individual service record. We were happy to oblige the army with any biographical notes, but completely lost courage when some tired clerk irritably and unfeelingly asked us, "Whom do you want notified in case you're killed?" At this time a "Qualification Card" was made out for each man, containing a summary of his ability along business and military lines — a guide to those assigning men to various branches of the service. On September 12th, the men who had arrived two days before were [7] assembled and, as their names were read out, were assigned to units. The battery commanders were present to act as standards around whom the men assigned to their commands might rally. The twelve men assigned to Battery "A" assembled around Captain Dick under the guidance of Lieutenant Reid. They were immediately gathered together in barrack number "P-58." Sergeant Robert L. Smith, one of about two hundred and fifty regular army men sent to Camp Up- ton, was made their acting first sergeant. The next contingent of men arriving from local boards, September 2 1 St, were quartered in barrack "J-43." Thirty-three of them were assigned to Battery "A." The twelve men previously assigned were brought up to "i-43" to be quartered there. The third addition to the personnel of the battery consisted of nine men arriving Septem- ber 28th. At the close of September, 1917, the battery strength amounted to fifty-five enlisted men, four officers assigned, and two officers attached. Until October 3, 191 7, this small nucleus of the battery was housed in barrack "J-43." On this date we moved to a barrack just completed on the corner of Fourth Avenue and Sixteenth Street, and in that section of camp which was to be the artillery area. This was the final home of the battery, for we remained in this build- ing until our departure for Europe in the spring of 19 18. Our barrack was a large frame building, two stories in height. The entire upper floor was used as a dormitory. The lower floor was divided by a hallway, containing the staircase, the bulletin board, and a long bench over one end of which, on the wall, was fastened the mail-box. As one entered the hall, two doorways, one at either extremity, led to the left into the mess-hall, a spacious room fur- nished with benches and tables. At the farther end of the room was the serving counter, behind which were the kitchen, pantry, and storeroom (later burglarized now and then). Across the hall were the orderly, supply, and first sergeant's rooms. The remainder of the floor space on this side of the hallway was utilized alternately, now as a dormitory, now as a recreation room, the varied employment of the room depending on whether the medical authorities thought that two and a half or three feet between bunks was sneezing reach. They altered their opinions on this distance on two occasions, and very suddenly, and we suffered accordingly. It may be in point to men- tion the small addition made to the orderly room in the form of a private office for Captain Dick, for it was this mysterious holy of holies which did much for the discipline of the battery. The quiet seclusion, the cold military dignity of that room, struck terror to the heart of many a delinquent, and tended to keep all on the straight [8: and narrow path. Over the door of that inner temple one saw in- visibly written the words, "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." About fifty feet from the main barrack on Fourth Avenue was a smaller building, the lower floor of which was used as a Battery "A" dormitory annex. Both barracks were lighted by electricity and ventilated by many sliding windows, together with ventilators run- ning the length of the roofs. Heat was supplied by large stoves which were kept burning night and day. Keeping in mind the long, cold, dismal fall nights in pup-tents at the front, when sleep was disturbed by everything ranging from rain and the cooties to the bang of guns, it is amusing to remember the complaints registered against the night guard in Upton, as, on his charitable rounds, he coaled the stoves. The noise disturbed our slumber, and calls of "Put that coal on with your hands," "Hey, get a rubber shovel!" were hurled at him. It be- came a source of amusement for the guard triumphantly to avenge himself on a few of his close friends by thoughtfully waking them to announce the time of night and the number of hours' sleep they had before reveille. The night guard was far from popular. The quar- ters of the battery were completed by the latrine, a small, low build- ing in the rear covered with black tar paper. It was divided into three sections, toilets of the most modern type, a wash section with many faucets installed over a trough with a wide board edge, and a shower room containing eight sprays. So long as we think of our army days, this home of the battery will ever force itself on our minds as the scene of the happiest of them all. With conveniences which were never even approached in Europe, with barracks new and always clean, with unlimited supply of fuel, and with a dry, clean place to eat our meals, we lived in comparative comfort. Seven months, or over one third of the life of the battery, were spent in Camp Upton, and for this reason, and because, too, those seven months represented the formation, development, and initial training of the organization, we shall devote considerable space to them. We propose to treat this important period of the battery's ex- istence by considering the problems which we encountered during that time. It must be borne in mind that the raising and mainte- nance of America's tremendous army was an enterprise of appalling complexity and magnitude, and that we, in our small way, had a share of the difficulties. The large majority of enlisted men who made up the new army were absolutely new to military service, and the junior officers, hastily trained to meet the emergency, could not be taught, in the short period of three months, all things necessary to their needs for the training of their commands and the proper organization of their units. It is a further tribute to Yankee ingenu- ity and perseverance that we met and mastered all difficulties, mas- tered them well enough, at least, to bring order out of apparent chaos, well enough to give us victory. Generally speaking, all of our prob- lems fell under a few big divisions, as follows: 1. Housing the battery, and making the camp area habitable. II. Feeding the battery. III. Equipping the battery. IV. The paper work. V. Disciplining and training the battery, including physical conditioning, instilling obedience to military law and the orders of superiors, training in the use of weapons, smooth cooperation between various units of the battery, not for- getting the provision for recreation, so necessary to a soldier's development and morale. I. As we have already stated. Camp Upton was far from complete when the first contingent of recruits arrived. Roads and barracks were still unfinished and much of the terrain was still uncleared. Our first duty was to devote at least a part of our time in assisting the civilian employees of the Government to thin out the scrub-oak and to pull stumps. This work was handled at first by regularly appointed details comprised of almost the entire battery, and later by men under punishment, these latter being familiarly known as "the chain gang." Roads were repaired and work commenced on clearing a large area to be eventually used as the 306th Field Artillery parade- ground. This task we never completed, however, for at the time when it was scheduled to be ready we were on parade in France with Fritz in the van. Additional carpentry work on our part made the barracks more comfortable, and we shall never disparage the talents of our masons for their building of the garbage incinerator. By their beautiful masonic creation in the rear of the barrack they gave Bat- tery "A" first place in the regiment for sanitation. In order to make our quarters safe against fire, wooden ladders were erected on the outer front wall of the building. Outside was built a small shed in which was kept a small hose reel mounted on an axle and wheels. An order to the effect that one battery in each regiment be appointed to the task of fire patrol was responsible for our leaping into fame as the 'Tire Battery." Instantly the slogan " 'A' Battery is the Fire Battery" was added to our long list of calls. Although we responded to several alarms, there are three which stand out most Tf)r-zts.t. vividly. One was tlie call at i a.m. to a small blaze in the orderly room of Battery "A," 305th Field Artillery. Resenting rude dis- turbance at such an hour, we nevertheless responded, only to find that the fire had been extinguished before our arrival. Sanchez found such particular discomfort in arising that, forgetting his newly acquired military vocabulary, he expressed his highly incensed feel- ings by merely remarking, "I am so sleepy." Another fire, a more formidable affair, occurred when the infirmary of the 305th Field Artillery nearly burned down. We were at noon mess at the time, but dropped mess-kits and all else to answer the call. The day was extremely cold and the thorough drenching many of us received while fighting the flames made us feel that we were surely earning our free board and lodging. The third fire was at the far end of the camp, and tired as we were from a long afternoon hike, we must needs race away down the road, trailing our miniature fire-engine behind us. II. The problem of feeding the battery was entrusted to Lieuten- ant Burke and Frank Waring (acting mess sergeant). Cooking food in large quantities to feed so many men, was in itself an art at that time unmastered by any enlisted man. Civilian cooks were employed, chief of whom was Gross. It is a sad commentary upon our woe- fully deficient knowledge of our rights under military law, yet at the same time it speaks well for our desire to attain soldierly obedience, that we submitted to violent abuse and peremptory orders from a civilian chef. In later days, armed as we were with a knowledge of these rights, Gross' actions would undoubtedly have endangered his bodily safety. Enlisted men were assigned as understudies to our civilian cooks, and later took up their tasks when the latter were removed. Throughout the battery's existence cooks came and went. The executive side of the mess was administered by Frank War- ing, whose duties, upon his departure for an ordnance school in the west, were taken up by Henry Mueller, who continued in the capac- ity of mess sergeant until just before we left Upton, when, at his own solicitation, he was removed to the line, to be replaced by Herbert Flatau. The best criterion of Mueller's management of the mess is found in the fact that during the Argonne campaign, when it became necessary to remove Flatau and when the mess question was giving endless but nevertheless just cause for universal complaint, Mueller was hopefully appealed to by the entire battery to return to his former duties. In reviewing the problems of the mess we find that two difficulties contributed to the tediousness of the task. The first was due to the CO fact that seventeen cents was the ration allowance for each man per day. If that allowance was overstepped at any time, it meant short rations later on. But on the other hand, any unused portion was convertible into cash, and was placed to the account of the battery in the battery fund. Coming from civil life, with all its luxuries, we thought seventeen cents all too insufficient for a day's fodder, but it was demonstrated to be more than enough if skilfully and wisely disbursed. Let it ever stand to the credit of Mueller that he fed the battery well yet economically, and with a keen eye to that day in France when a battery fund would complement poor rations and buy a few small luxuries so woefully scarce. Despite our vehement pro- tests, he steadfastly maintained his miserly policy toward us, and our thanklessness later turned to gratitude. The paper work, new to the mess sergeant, was complex to an exasperating degree, but down to the last fraction the work was carried out with conscientious appli- cation. When the Quartermaster's Department delivered fresh beef, we Vv'ere entitled to one forequarter of beef and one hindquarter, the latter being more desirable because it was more meaty. Often the quartermaster delivered two forequarters, and Mueller went to every authority save the Major-General, with the inevitable result that the quartermaster settled the difficulty by delivering two hindquarters the following day. To illustrate further his efficiency and discipline we cite another incident. Due to our throwing whole slices of un- eaten bread into the incinerator, because at the serving our eyes were larger than our stomachs, Mueller began cutting the slices in half and feeding them to us as our appetites demanded. Then, at last, we knew that he was a painful success. Consider the task of preventing a continual round of the standard edibles — stew, beans, canned corned willy, potatoes, oatmeal, rice, prunes, and dried apricots — from causing mutiny among recruits, and you have in a nutshell another phase of the mess problem. Suffice it to say that we ate as well as the quality and quantity of our supplies would permit. However, when Captain Dick, often to test the qual- ity of the food, came to the mess line, was served, and retired to the inner recesses of the orderly room to partake thereof, "we still main- tain," to employ Gelbach's phrase, that he threw it out of the window, at the same time shedding bitter tears of official sympathy for us. 111. The declaration of war, with the equipping and maintenance of our tremendous army, made a sudden and pressing demand on the industries of the country with which they desperately, and at first with slow progress, strove to wrestle. Nowhere was this condition more evident than in the equipment of the battery with uniforms and other military accoutrements. Upon the entrance into the ser- vice of the first few thousand there was sufficient equipment to supply every man with one olive-drab uniform, one suit of underwear, one pair of socks, one each of service hat, overcoat, and slicker, one pair of gloves, one pair of tan dress shoes, and one pair of hob-nailed field shoes, known more familiarly as hikers. The men were usually measured on the day of their arrival, and received their uniform one week later. As with many of our other problems, inexperience on the part of both officers and men played havoc with the possibilities of efficiency, for we were totally ignorant of a proper method of keep- ing our clerical records, and knew little or nothing about equipment, except that it was khaki and that each man was supposed to own a lot more of it than was provided. Mueller, at the outset, was acting as supply sergeant, and fulfilled his duties with great ability. On being transferred to the management of the mess, he was succeeded by Gray, who did exceptionally good work. As the number of incoming recruits increased, a corresponding demand for equipment gave the supply sergeant a deal of worry. Then, too, we have it on sound authority that the physical size of the men making up the new army averaged larger proportions than the men of the old army. The sizes of clothes ran too small for many of the larger men, and as a result the latter had to wait until the proper sizes of equipment could be specially requisitioned. All this meant delay and unending labor. When Jim Murphy stepped up to be outfitted, he passed each equipment table containing blouses, breeches, overcoats, hats, etc., receiving the same answer at each — "Haven't got that size." Finally emerging, his total initial army equipment consisted of extra shoe-laces, identification tags, and a yard of tape. His was far from being the only case of its kind. And what is more, this was as late as December, over eight months after the declaration of war. About this time the shoes of the first recruits began to wear out, and more trouble arose in getting them new ones. A system of sending shoes away to be repaired was established, but it was four weeks or more before they were returned. The system, a happy one in its conception, became hopelessly tangled, and men were apt to receive other shoes than those they had sent away, a misfortune which resulted in pain- ful attempts to wear boots which conformed to the bulging bunions of other feet. All this time new men were coming into the battery, merely to be equipped by us at the expense of great time and energy andtrans- f erred to other outfits almost immediately. It was not until early in 19 18 that we received our extra olive-drab uniforms and new shoes. About the same time field equipment, consisting of pack carrier, shelter tent, condiment and bacon cans, were issued. IV. Army paper work, with all its maddening intricacies, pre- sented another problem demanding patient industry and exactness. Orders, correspondence, and memoranda of various kinds had to be classified and filed for constant future reference. Rosters, pay-rolls, muster-rolls, surveys, and a dozen similar reports had to be made out regularly. Likewise it was necessary to devise a system by which all of this work could be carried on with the least possible friction and the greatest expedition. Here again, the unfamiliarity of new men with complex military forms called for tremendous effort and long hours of application on the part of those appointed to the task. Captain Dick, while never in the slightest neglecting the field-work of the battery, concentrated the greater part of his time and energy on this phase of the battery work. Seeking out and testing the qual- ity of many of the enlisted men for the position of battery clerk, the position finally was given to Baecker. With great patience, and by hours of work sometimes stretching far into the nights, Baecker guided and shaped the clerical afi'airs of the battery until there was finally devised a system of paper work which remained the model throughout our existence as a military unit. Approaching each new problem with only general model specimens, if any, of the matter in hand, he worked out model forms applicable to the battery's needs. The first pay-roll, first muster-roll, and many other first reports worked out by the captain and Baecker were guides thereafter. Aside from the captain, Baecker was the only man in the battery office who had a thorough and comprehensive knowledge of this particular work. During the captain's three months' absence in Fort Sill, the vast bulk of the work rested squarely on Baecker's shoulders. He was succeeded by Dunkak, who, from his arrival at Upton, was trained as a battery clerk, retaining that position until our demobili- zation. The splendid up-to-the-minute condition of his records at all inspections in Europe stands as a significant tribute to the manner in which he accomplished his task. V. All of the phases reviewed above were of extreme importance in the development of the battery, and it would be an improper omis- sion to leave them undiscussed, however uninteresting they may be to those of us who were not directly concerned with them. However, our greater interest, our hours of happiness and tedious work, enthu- siasm and depression, hopes and misgivings, centered almost entirely around that part of our life at Upton which pertained to training and disciplining the personnel. We are not disregarding the other im- portant spheres of work when we say that this was the most vital of them all and the one to which we must devote more pages, since on its character, both at Upton and Camp de Souge, depended our fail- ure or success as a fighting unit on the Lorraine, the Vesle, and the Argonne fronts. In the review of our accomplishments under this general division of our problems let us keep in mind the three outstanding difficulties which confronted us: first, our own colossal ignorance of all military matters; second, the lack of ordnance and other field materiel com- mensurate with our requirements; and third, the inexperience of the officers. Of the three, the first looms up most prominently. We are free to admit, indeed proud to state, that at the time of our induction we knew little, most of us nothing, of military discipline and the duties of a soldier. We were accustomed to absolute freedom of mind and deed, decidedly unaccustomed to dictatorial treatment at the hands of men who democracy had taught us to believe were no better than ourselves. To turn such independence into obedience and to supplant utter ignorance with a knowledge of the exacting require- ments of military life, were the tasks confronting our officers. That they succeeded, we hope may be shown by this book, but we are happy to think that they never succeeded — if they ever planned to — in converting us into that type of perfect soldier prescribed by mili- tary regulations, an individual without individuality, a mere mechan- ism manipulated by pushing the right button. To the last, the men of the National Army were American fighters, not Prussian soldiers. As for the materiel with which to train us, it was so woefully in- adequate that the most optimistic might well have quailed in appre- hension. Without sufficient guns, rifles, gas-masks, or artillery in- struments, it seemed impossible that we could learn enough to take our stand against veteran troops. Indeed, it was not until we went in for intensive training at Camp de Souge, that we gained a real in- sight into the nature of our work, though our experiences at Upton gave us a necessary foundation in discipline, drill, and military etiquette. The inexperience of officers was a circumstance of tremendous significance. The fact that we used to call them "ninety-day won- ders" indicates our attitude toward them at the time. It is a temp- tation to exaggerate their inexperience just as it is a temptation to overrate many of their accomplishments. It may be said, however, that they were hastily trained, and trained in American methods of warfare which, in many cases, proved of little use in camp and of ['53 no use on the battle line. Perhaps the majority of junior officers in the National Army were young men fresh from college, or even with unfinished education. Some were less experienced in the ways of life than many of the men whom they commanded. In fact, they were men whose enthusiasm and spirit far outran their military learning and, at times, their powers of discretion. It is casting no aspersion on their characters or abilities to say so. It is merely another re- flection on America's unpreparedness. Let it be said that Battery "A" fortunately began its career under the supervision of officers who were mature in judgment and capable of mastering in a most credit- able way the problems which beset them; yet it will always be a source of amusement to remember the numerous occasions, from the first dismounted drills in Upton to the instruction in Butt's "Manual of Arms" in Noyon, France, when our instructors stood, book in hand, referring to printed pages for information which their knowl- edge could not supply them. Truly, these difficulties presented a situation which aflforded little encouragement, and now, as we follow more or less chronologically the development of the battery, splendid efforts and splendid results are revealed, which must ever be a source of pride to the enlisted men and to the officers who led them. On September 29, 19 17, the first step in training was taken in the form of instruction in close order drill, A number of men were on detail, leaving about thirty men clad in civilian attire to answer the call. Captain Dick marched the men out to one of the uncompleted camp roads about a quarter of a mile from the barracks, and, without use of military commands, arranged them in double rank. Lined be- fore him there were men representing many walks of life, from the farm, the factory, offices, college lecture halls, and professions, now mere recruits waiting to receive the first lesson in the new game they had entered. Who of us present at that moment will ever forget the captain's maiden speech to Battery "A"? He touched briefly on the purpose of our being there, marshaling such reasons as whipping the Germans, defending our national honor, and squaring the Lusitania account; but from the point of view which we entertained in those days, he failed to mention the most compelling reason, namely, the "Order of Induction." He finished by telling us of the "terrible" Canadian losses, and he wanted to "emphasize" that "they lost — they lost heavily — they lost because they didn't have discipline — we must have discipline." This speech was delivered with the natural rising inflection of his voice toward the end of each sentence, short or long, H.T.ri;Slc 1921 Ho^te^^ Hcr\i;s;e , da>5/-ri3^]>jt . C2aTx.-p Uptoi\L.I with a snapping out of the last word. A short period of instruction in the simple drill movements such as right, left, and about face, terminated the morning session. During the afternoon we were divided into squads, and as certain men were appointed as squad leaders buttons began to fly off blouse fronts as chests swelled under the an- ticipation of a set of stripes. Another lecture ended the afternoon session. This lecture, the first of a long series on the subject, was devoted to profound declarations about saluting, its value and ne- cessity, and how to render it so that the officer receiving it would "jump." Then and there the captain made us understand that the fate of the Nation, together with the balance of power in Europe, hung on our ability to render a correct salute. We now recall how the battery ofttimes thereafter was taken to some side road or drill field to practice the subtle, angular art of saluting. We started from a position of "At ease," with feet spread apart. Then the command "Attention" — "Hand," at which the right hand was raised to saluting position, "Salute," and the hand was snapped down. This was fol- lowed by the command "At ease." With clocklike regularity the drill was repeated over and over again, and with great solemnity, as though the Nation's salvation depended upon it. From September 24th to October 22d, the work of the battery was concentrated on close order drill and physical exercise. As men were transferred to or from the battery, the personnel of the organization changed often. Only the most important changes are mentioned in this writing. By virtue of new arrivals on September 28th and Oc- tober 8th, the number of enlisted men increased to 194. Permanent squads with acting squad leaders and section chiefs were formed. McKeever and Marriner were officially appointed acting corporals with the captain's awful warning that they were to be "obeyed and respected accordingly." A system of bugle-calls was instituted with first call at 6 a.m. and taps at 10 p.m. Sergeant Smith, the first top- sergeant of the battery, with deliberate intention went A. W. O. L. to be "busted" and sent back to his outfit in the Regular Army, punish- ment inflicted at the hands of a Summary Court. Despite McKeever's aspiration to the position, Ardiff v/as made top-sergeant. On Oc- tober 21st, Corporal Chester B. Armour, First-class Private George P. Gray, and Zollinger were transferred to us from the Regular Army Coast Artillery at Fort Greble, Rhode Island. A War Department order at this time forbade the making of any non-commissioned of- ficers from the National Army ranks until after November i, 19 17. Armour was consequently transferred to us to be first sergeant, Gray as supply sergeant, and Zollinger as a line sergeant. In compliance [i8n with this order, Ardiff was removed in favor of Armour, only to be reappointed nine days later, he being the captain's choice for that place, any order of the War Department to the contrary notwith- standing. Although reluctant to remove Mueller, the captain had no alternative under the above-mentioned order but to make Gray sup- ply sergeant. Gray was allowed just twenty-four hours to master the supply system or give way to Mueller again on the first of November. Although inexperienced in this kind of work, and facing a task al- most impossible to grasp in so short a time. Gray labored fast and hard, and with Mueller's assistance he succeeded. He remained as supply sergeant until he was removed to the hospital from the Leviathan upon docking at Brest. November ist witnessed the first official appointments of non- commissioned officers. Captain Dick wisely delayed the appointment of non-commissioned officers. His opinion on the subject was that of an eminent German military writer, who once said that non-commis- sioned officers were the backbone of any military organization. Ger- mans, however, have been proved in the wrong on more than one question lately, and probably the majority of us would justly insist that, if any one rank could claim to be the mainstay of an army, the honor would fall to the buck private. With few exceptions, the enlisted men at that time had not enough of the rudimentary knowl- edge of military drill to permit them to be of much assistance as non-commissioned officers. Consequently the captain waited, ever observing and studying. He endeavored always to avoid the error of hasty and improper selections which would cause the organization to suffer or compel the reduction of any whom he had appointed. Whatever criticism can be made of his other policies, now looking back with a knowledge gleaned from experi- ence, we are happy to acknowledge that his attitude toward his non-commissioned officers seems almost perfect. Painstakingly he instructed them in their duties, never driving them into the hands of those whom they commanded by reproving them in public, and never robbing them of their necessary self-confidence and self-assertiveness by threatening them with reduction — a last resort with him, and one which he was never compelled to employ. In short, he promoted a man and then backed that man and his actions to the limit. He instilled a pride in the stripes by formally presenting the warrants at a battery formation to each new non-com- missioned officer individually, and in a speech to the battery as a whole at that time he stated, "A non-commissioned officer's order is mine — in my absence he stands in my stead — he must be respected and obeyed." Such conduct as this drew for him the instant co- operation of his non-coms, and, after his promotion and withdrawal from the battery, his policy was recognized with approval by both non-coms and privates. On October 22, 191 7, the battery embarked on a period of intensive training which lasted sixteen weeks. A plan was laid down, definitely indicating the lines along which the battery was to be developed. The organization was to be divided into three large groups, known as the special detail, cannoneers, and mechanics. The entire battery was to receive physical training in the morning and an hour of close order drill each day. For the remainder of the day the men were divided into the groups above named and trained in the special functions of the group to which they belonged. The special detail, ever since its creation ironically referred to as the "Brains of the Battery," and composed of certain men selected for their particular qualifications, were trained in visual signaling, the use of the field signal-buzzer, installation and operation of telephones, panoramic sketching, map-drawing, manipulation of fire- control instruments, and general liaison work. Flags rudely made with sticks and pieces of cloth were used for the instruction in visual signaling. Men were taught the semaphore alphabet, and then prac- tised its use among themselves. Sometimes, especially in the winter, the signaling was done from one end of the upper fioor of the main barrack to the other. As spring approached, the work was carried to the drill ground between the barracks, to Smith's Field, or to the hill back of the re-mount station. In the main the work was dull and only a few men ever attained great proficiency in it. The "buzzer class" offered a splendid opportunity for sleep. "Buzzer class in the lower squad room," was the form the summons took. Regulation field buzzers were not received until early spring, and in their absence ordinary push-button electric bells, encased in small wooden boxes, were employed. We spent many hours lolling in arm-chairs around the large stove, translating scattered sentences from popular magazines into the Morse code, while a partner in practice endeavored to read the message. Often a sentence was taken from a particularly interesting story which resulted in far more attention being paid to the story than to the buzzer. As in visual signaling, there were few men who applied themselves sufficiently to become proficient. When the regulation field buzzers arrived, much time v/as spent in experimenting with the instruments, to give the men a knowledge of testing and repairing them. Telephone instruction consisted of stringing wires all through the barrack, around posts, up and down the staircases, through windows, and through holes drilled in the walls. Conversations from floor to floor, main barrack, and annex, were carried on. Panoramic sketching from a terrain board or the surrounding country, and map-reading and -making gave us a hazy idea of that work, but no more. The cannoneers were instructed in standing gun drill on American three-inch pieces, but never actually fired them, although they went to the range to watch the 305th Field Artillery fire. Under Lieutenant Ketcham and Lieutenant Burke the duties of cannoneers in the opera- tion of the three-inch piece were explained, and during December we received two three-inch pieces with caissons, with which to display our newly acquired knowledge. Standing gun drill and simulated fir- ing occupied us for a few weeks, when the pieces were taken away to be used at the new Officers' Training School established at the camp. It was during this work on the guns that the battery sustained its first casualty, Bernstein having the top of one of his fingers cut off when he inadvertently got his finger in the breech recess as the breech block swung closed. The whole regiment received four three-inch pieces of a most antiquated model, and we promptly dubbed them the "pre-Revolutionary War guns." All four guns were consigned to each battery one day a week. On the days when the guns were in other hands, standing gun drill was conducted by means of four planks laid on the ground to represent the wheels, muzzle, and trail of the gun. The system of American commands was used, range being given in yards, site in degrees on the quadrant, and deflection in mills. No explosives were ever handled at Upton, and the only real benefit the cannoneers received from their training there, was a slight inkling of how a gun crew was formed, how it functioned on a drill field, and the manner in which indirect fire was conducted. Curiosity may be aroused as to why the third division of the bat- tery, the mechanics — consisting at that time of almost one half of the total battery strength — was later reduced to the small group of three men who served as our mechanics during action. That is read- ily explained by the fact that we were originally intended to be a motorized outfit in which a large number of men would be needed to manipulate tractors, motor-cars, and cycles, beside superintending the construction of gun-pits and large dugouts. The training of the mechanics was conducted along these lines. Instruction in the theory and handling of motors was derived from overhauling and assembling the motor in the captain's Ford. Later an Oldsmobile car was sent to the battery to be cleaned and repaired, an object which afforded the mechanics further opportunity for pro- found research and experiment. The work was carried on under the direction of Waring, as chief mechanic. The classes consisted chiefly of hot disputes among Waring, Rubin, Estrominsky, and Schild- knecht over each other's mechanical knowledge. Always, motor parts were found scattered in practically every part of the barrack, and it was an inevitable occurrence that, once assembled, the motor had to be immediately overhauled because some part had not been inserted, or because a missing tool had been left in a cylinder. An actual illus- tration of the latter occurred when a small screw-driver was recov- ered from inside the engine. After theoretical instruction in the digging of gun emplacements and underground galleries had been given by Lieutenant Vollmer, practical experience took the form of the construction of a gun-pit sunk five feet below the ground level with a gallery twenty-five feet underground. Work was commenced in November in the wooded country adjoining the camp. The first preparations alone indicated that the child of our labors would far eclipse the proportions and beauty of Solomon's temple. A large pit was dug and huge trees were hewn down, out of which logs were cut twelve to sixteen inches in diameter. These were to be the inside facing of the walls. The exhausting work of hauling logs soon sapped any interest we might have had at the outset, and our enthusiasm was further chilled when the ground froze, causing our pickaxes to bound off the earth with- out leaving a scratch. Finally the weather became so intensely cold that the work was abandoned. A brief summary of the other more important phases of our de- velopment will serve to close the review of our training in the art of war as pursued at Upton. Non-commissioned officers' school was conducted in drill manual, in map-reading and map-making, and in principles of fire. Patrol and scout duty was practised and, after theoretical instruc- tion in the use of the compass and in woodcraft, patrols were es- tablished. But they degenerated into nothing more than wild games of hare and hound, pursued without the slightest regard for military regulations. Small-arms firing was taken up after we were equipped with rifles, which, with the exception of some twenty old Krag rifles, was not until early spring, when the new Winchester rifles arrived. These were replaced by Eddystone rifles, a few weeks prior to our departure overseas. Our first duty was to clean the rifles of heavy cosmoline, this occupying us for several afternoons in the lower mess- hall, when we diligently transferred the cosmoline from the rifles to our uniforms. Drill in sighting and aiming at bull's-eyes at the end of the room (not forgetting the famous "trigger-squeeze") prepared us for work on the range. The night before the days on the range we practised simulated firing. Cartridges, with the explosive and primers extracted, were used. We lay on the tables in the mess-hall and went through the drill of loading, sighting, aiming, squeezing the trigger, and extracting the empty cartridge. We practised slow and rapid fire. The actual firing on the range brought splendid results, the battery as a whole firing exceptionally well for novices, sub- stantiating Roosevelt's assertion that an American is born a good shot. Bayonet drill is something we shall not soon forget. "On guard," "Short thrust," "Withdraw," "Long thrust," "Butt strike," are com- mands which produce a smile. Nor can we forget Lieutenant Voll- mer urging us to look more fierce as we thrust the bayonet at an imaginary opponent, nor the wild dashes in platoon front across open lots, yelling, in compliance with our instruction, like Cherokee Indians. If we were only to mention a few of Mourges' commands, such as "For protection only," "Clean your right eyepiece," "Press out for gas," "Don't dribble through your mouthpiece," "Give your name, rank, and organ-eye-zation," "Right o'black," they would serve to recall our training in gas defense. The importance of gas defense was appreciated to its fullest extent, and the training was intensive to a very high degree. The facilities for training were limited to twelve gas-masks. The battery was divided into small groups, which alternated in the use of the masks. The drill consisted in an inspec- tion to test the mask for imperfections, drill in rapid adjustment, and dismounted drill with the mask adjusted over the face, all of which was supplemented by lectures on first aid in case of our being gassed. The drill was repulsive because, with such a limited number of masks, we were compelled to put in our mouths the mouthpieces which had been used by others, an unsanitary and most unpleasant feature which we vainly attempted to mitigate by washing the mouthpieces in a nauseating solution of creosote. Mourges was a first-class task- master, but drilled over-hard and over-long, to the extent of display- ing bad judgment. On the other hand, the gas-defense training was perhaps the most productive of all our work at Upton. The rudi- ments so thoroughly instilled into us there were never forgotten, and made the later training in that work under Bernstein at Camp de Souge very simple. In anticipation of our possibly becoming a horse-drawn instead of a motor-drawn battery (which, as we know, proved to be the case), a course in equitation was given us. Due to the total lack of horses, wooden substitutes were used. These were built by the men, and consisted of long, hollow, wooden cylinders mounted on four sticks. Small pegs fastened on the top of the cylinders served to designate the pommel and cantle of the saddle. Under the tutelage of Lieutenant Burke, we executed the commands "Stand to horse," "Prepare to mount," and "Mount." The last command was partic- ularly difficult to execute, for some of the horses were built higher than others, and since none of them had stirrups or saddles, consider- able discomfort was experienced by the uninitiated, who jumped high and fell heavily in the hard, wooden seats. Other movements of the cavalry drill were practised, as "Low reach," "About face," etc. With so much other simulated work going on for lack of proper facilities, it is a matter for self-congratulation that we were not compelled to groom imaginary manes and polish imaginary hoofs by the numbers. There was a great deal of such mock procedure, and it all appeared futile and ridiculous, yet simulation of one sort or another was merely making the best of an unfortunate situation. What is more important, it kept us busily preoccupied with other thoughts than those of home and Broadway. All this training, or attempt at training, along special lines was sup- plemented by close order drill and physical exercise, conducted for one hour each morning under Lieutenant Swenson. What contrib- uted more than anything else to the physical conditioning of the men, were the long afternoon hikes in the invigorating air of the country. How well we remember Lieutenant Reid speeding along in tireless fashion, leading us up and down hills, never slackening the pace, and bringing us back to the barrack perspiring and with legs aching from what usually amounted to a five-mile trip. One day of every week was set aside for an all-day hike, with in- struction in castrametation. The latter consisted in pitching tents, mounting guard, preparing food on the field range, and policing the camp area. The one outstanding event in this connection was the Shoreham hike, which forever after was the criterion of all battery marches. With full equipment, including the blankets rolled and carried over the shoulder and around the body similar to pictures of Sherman's troops on their march to the sea, the battery departed at 8 A.M. Most of the twelve miles to Shoreham were made in the rain. The rations for the mess were carried in the captain's "flivver." Arriving at 1 1.30 a.m., camp was made on the beach and mess cooked [243 and eaten in a downpour of rain. The mess consisted of dam chowder, baked beans, bread, and coffee. Our portions of clam chowder were visibly increased and noticeably diluted by rain-water, shed from our service hats as we nodded our heads in endeavors to drink. Early in the afternoon the return hike was commenced and the battery, splashing through mud and water, yet singing with great spirit, arrived at the barrack at 5.30 p.m. Oh, Captain Dick of Battery "A," He had two hundred men. He marched them up to the top of a hill. And marched them down again; And when they were up they were up, And when they were down they were down. And when they were only halfway up. They were neither up nor down. While we go marching And the band begins to P-L-A-Y, You can hear them shouting, 'The boys of Battery 'A' Are on a hike again to-day!" The dull, monotonous moments of our lives at Upton were con- fined chiefly to the hours of training. Once those hours were passed, life was more enjoyable. It has been previously mentioned that the lower squad room served alternately in the capacity of a dormitory and a recreation room. The battery bought a pool table, hired a piano, purchased chess and checker sets, and these, with a small library of books and magazines, afforded many pleasant hours. On two occasions the medical authorities decided that the space be- tween bunks must be widened, and accordingly our recreation room was needed as a dormitory for the excess number of bunks excluded from the other barrack rooms. When this occurred, the pool table had to be put in one corner, rendering it useless, and the piano moved to the mess-hall. Added to our facilities for enjoyment was the Y. M. C. A., with writing-tables and moving-picture shows. And the erection of the Hostess House across the street opened another fa- vorite rendezvous with its comfortable easy-chairs, rugs on the floor, reading matter, and a canteen where much delightful and dainty food afforded relief from the unpalatable army fare. Entertainments were conducted in our own mess-hall on many occasions, giving Buddy Childs, Jim Barnes, and others opportunities to display their vocal talents. [25] Perhaps the most important factor which contributed to our rec- reation was the week-end pass to New York City. Due to the ever increasing size of the division and the limited transportation facili- ties, the pass privilege was restricted to a very small percentage of each unit in the camp. At first the fortunate ones were entitled to go in on any available train. However, great minds ran in the same channel, and the entire crowd rushed headlong for the first train, causing many stampedes, in one of which a colonel was knocked off his horse. The system of designating on the face of the pass certain trains for de- parture and return was instituted (we suspect at the instigation of the outraged colonel). Men were gathered into regimental units, in- spected for cleanliness of uniform and other equipment, and carefully scrutinized to insure their having on the white stock collar. They were then marched off by an officer to the terminal, and boarded the train in an orderly fashion. An entire chapter could easily be de- voted to this subject of passes, with all its virtues, faults, joys, sorrows, and injustices. The general principle was to grant passes by roster. The plan was apparently the only equitable way of managing the matter, yet it proved to be a poor one in operation, for hopes were justly raised, only to be dashed down when the inevitable duty and guard rosters happened to interfere. The judgments of the officer in charge and of the first sergeant were subjected to bitter criticism by those who suffered. Many thought there was a powerful oligarchy in the bat- tery, and perhaps rightly, for certainly there was a favored coterie of non-commissioned officers who seemed to monopolize the passes. Then, too, there arose the complication of giving passes to men who could supply their own transportation in the form of automobiles, owned or hired. The use of public buses running to and from New York came into being, and many a weird story can be told of the joy-rides we had in utilizing them. With all its mistakes and all the trouble it fomented, we can look on the pass question as one of those many affairs of army life which often tried our hearts and tempers, but which, nevertheless, served us happily many times, and afforded a distinct relief from the drag of camp. Though many men were not fortunate enough to get to New York regularly, there was one consolation — which we never had in foreign service — in the fact that Camp Upton's close proximity to the city enabled friends and relatives to visit us on Saturdays and Sundays. The discussion of our problems and the manner of meeting them gives only a general insight into our life at Camp Upton, and leaves [26] untouched many occasions and many circumstances which the reader must recall for himself. Our book, however, would be most unsatis- fying if it did not cite a few of the more memorable events which can- not well be classified under the headings of our problems, but which we are loathe to leave unmentioned. On November 8th, to the disgust and disappointment of the entire battery and the infinite wrath of the supply sergeant and ofllce force, Battery "A" was torn asunder by the transfer of one hundred of its men to the 82d Division, Camp Gordon, Georgia. Lieutenant Reid was temporarily detached to conduct them, together with four hun- dred others from divers units in the camp, on their distasteful ex- cursion to balmier climes. This occasion witnessed the introduction of the blue cloth barrack bag. Thereafter an issue of "blue bags" to the supply sergeant caused abnormal palpitations of the heart, whis- pered rumors as to what men might expect deportation, and subtle schemes for going A. W. O. L. to escape the hateful transfer. A few dollars as a fine, a few greasy days in the kitchen, or a week of hard labor with the chain-gang as punishment for the A. W. O. L. — what were these compared to the horrible torture of being banished far from Broadway's dazzling lights? Second Lieutenant William C. Armstrong was attached to the battery on November 20, 191 7. Lieutenant Armstrong's strong points were platoon drill, manual of the pistol, and working in conjunction with Lieutenant Vollmer on bayonet practice. He is to be pardoned for all but the manner in which he kept our hearts in a flutter by flashing his Colt automatic in the air during instruction. All was well until, one day, he produced three cartridges. We spent many an anxious minute while he loaded and unloaded the weapon. He absolutely guaranteed that a shot from the gun would pass through fifteen feet of reinforced concrete and never would the gun jam. We learned differently. December 9, 191 7, was to us a Day of Redemption. A kind of sabbatical period set in. Captain Dick was sent on three months' detached service to the School of Fire at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Lieu- tenant Reid was to act as battery commander during his absence. The captain was too exacting a disciplinarian to be endured for more than a few consecutive months. He had a weakness for keeping us stand- ing at strict attention on the inspection line Saturday mornings, not allowing us even to blink an eyelid. He had no compunctions for canceling our names, already on the pass list, for finding a speck of dirt in a rifle bore, unwashed leggings, or unpolished shoes. In con- sequence of this, we invariably spent Friday nights in the wash- [27] house, getting our equipment immaculately clean and blaspheming the captain as we scrubbed. Most certainly at Saturday inspection it was woe unto him who was not fully prepared at the snarling, blood-curdling command, "0-p-e-n R-a-n-k-s, M-a-r-c-h." And the indoor inspection at our bunks was just as difficult a test. Blankets had to be folded in perfect accordance with the diagram posted on the bulletin board in the lower hall; the mess gear had to be laid out with painful precision, even to the prongs of the fork and the points of the spoon and knife taking the approved direction prescribed in the "Book of Pass Regulations." The extra shoes (when finally received) had to be polished and placed with mathematical exact- ness under the bunk. The floor of the barrack had to be scrubbed every Friday night and kept clean for the morning. If some delin- quent v/as found he was promptly informed that he had no "disci- pline," and then followed the inevitable question, "Who is your section chief?" The unfortunate sergeant was then told all the things for which he was responsible, ranging, so far as he could gather, from the delinquent private's personal affairs up to the direction of the entire war. Not only in respect to inspections, but in saluting and other mili- tary courtesies, there was no relief. How many of the uninitiated stepped into the captain's private room to interview him, and, after saluting and standing at attention for the first few moments, forgot themselves and proceeded to assume a more confidential and pleas- ant attitude by resting one hand on the captain's desk and shifting the total weight of the body to one foot. The captain was perhaps rendered speechless for a few seconds by the familiarity of the pose, but inevitably, after a moment, the words, "You're at Attention!" would crash from his lips, causing the offender not only to forget the stage of the story he had reached, but the whole errand itself which had brought him into the room. Again, when the captain entered the lower hall and "Attention!" was not called, or was called in a weak voice, the man who failed in his duty was made to repesit" Attention!" until he could call it and call it loudly. For him who failed to leap to his feet at the same warning, there were a few jumping lessons until he acquired the agility of a jack-in-the-box. If a new recruit, after a week or two in the battery, was asked by the captain for his name, and answered "Brown," all the officials from the lowest rank- ing corporal to the ranking lieutenant were brought to account for that man not knowing enough to affix his title "Private." Should a private address a non-commissioned officer as "Corp" or "Sarge" in the captain's hearing, he was immediately charged with a violation of all the articles in and out of the "Manual of Courts-Martial." These exactions, though responsible to a large extent for the battery's discipline, made the captain's departure a welcome oasis in the desert of militarism. On December 8, 1917, another increment of men from civilian life was received in the camp, and these men, from local boards numbers 64 and 65, were quartered with the battery until December 13th, when seventy-two of them were assigned. By that time battery af- fairs were working more smoothly and the new recruits soon mastered the rudiments of military drill by the example set them and the con- stant attention given them. Before long they were swinging along with the rest of the battery. They were informed how fortunate they were to have made their debut while Lieutenant Reid was in com- mand, and how they had better begin to prepare for the imperialistic commander who was on detached service. Lieutenant Reid arranged with the manager of the 44th Street Theater in New York City to entertain the entire battery at a per- formance of "Over the Top." We went to New York on an early evening train and marched from the Pennsylvania Station up Sev- enth Avenue to the theater. Although we counted ourselves as soldiers, fully trained in military etiquette, we must now open the family closet and confess that we received explicit instructions be- fore we left the camp as to how we should act if the theater orchestra played the national anthem. We all enjoyed the play immensely and the trip back to camp on the midnight train ended a very happy occasion. At both Christmas and the New Year, three-day passes were granted to a large number of men, enabling a great majority to spend these holidays at home. First Lieutenant N. J. Marsh was casually attached to the battery on December 17th, and was transferred to the 305th Field Artillery on December 28th. First Lieutenant Pitman was attached to the battery on December 27th. On December 26th, Sergeants Zollinger and Armour were transferred to Fort Greble, where they had been originally stationed. At this time an officers' training school was established in Camp Upton, and men were recommended from all units to attend and study for commissions. Lieutenant Reid recommended a number of men, but only two were selected from "A" Battery. We failed to receive our full quota as a battery of the regiment, and Lieutenant Reid protested against discrimination. He appealed to the colonel, and asked permission to carry the case to the commanding general of [293 the camp, but without success. The two selected men, Sergeants Ardiff and Franklin, went to school, the former going into the in- fantry school, where he successfully completed the course. Franklin, when only a few days in the artillery school, wrenched his knee while jumping over the trail of a three-inch gun during drill, and spent the rest of the course in the base hospital, thereby deprived of his chance to earn a well-deserved commission. On the 5th of January, Baecker was appointed first sergeant to fill the vacancy created by Ardiff's transfer. On January gth, Lieutenants VoUmer, Ketcham, and Swenson were promoted to the rank of first lieutenant. On the same day, Second Lieutenant Frank R. Greene was attached, and later, Febru- ary I ith, was assigned to the battery. Lieutenant Armstrong, then attached, was assigned February 21st. On February 25th, Cap- tain Dick returned from Fort Sill and again assumed command. Second Lieutenant John A. Grahn, Jr., was assigned to the battery on the 14th of March, and on the i6th of the same month Lieutenant Greene was promoted to the rank of first lieutenant and transferred to Battery "F" of the regiment. On March 31, 19 18, the roster showed the battery to have 219 men and 9 officers, assigned or attached. The battery suffered a distinct loss when Lieutenants Pitman, ti . T. T. '2 1 Do] Ketcham, Swenson, and Burke were transferred to regimental head- quarters. There is nothing but the highest praise on the part of the enlisted men for these officers. While maintaining their dignity as officers, they nevertheless were always fair and gentlemanly in their actions toward all of us. At all times they displayed the greatest interest in us, and employed their authority in no arrogant nor selfish manner, nor ever abused it to our disadvantage. They formed an ideal combination, better than we could have desired, and a combi- nation which was never again equaled, let alone surpassed, in the history of the battery. Lieutenant Pitman's endeavors were devoted entirely to the special detail, and he displayed considerable knowl- edge and aptitude for his work. Lieutenants Ketcham and Burke were engaged in the instruction of cannoneers and supervised our efforts to master the theories of equitation. Because of their former experience in the ranks they were peculiarly fitted for practical ar- tillery work. Lieutenant Swenson's particular duty was conditioning the battery in physical training and instructing us in close order drill and military courtesies. Washington's Birthday, February 22, 1918, marked the end of the sixteenth-week period of intensive training. At that time, the Sev- enty-seventh Division parade was held in New York City, but none of our regiment was represented, since we had neither guns nor horses. Many of the men, however, received three-day passes to the city. The air became surcharged with conflicting rumors to the effect that, on the one hand, we were going to endure another long period of training, and, on the other hand, that we were soon to start for overseas duty. Meanwhile training continued along the same lines as theretofore. During March, mid-week passes seemed to indicate that foreign service was at hand, but all rumors came to naught as our routine work continued. On March i8th, the 1 52d Field Artillery Brigade held a review and a ball in the 69th Regiment Armory in New York City. The men who were not in the city on week-end passes proceeded there during the day. Lieutenant Reid was in command, the captain acting as battalion commander. About 8 o'clock in the evening we assembled near the armory, manceuvered about the vicinity for a time, and finally halted on Madison Avenue facing Madison Square. Here we awaited our turn to proceed to the review, and when our turn came, we marched over to Lexington Avenue and 26th Street in column formation, entered the massive armory, and, at the command of "Squads left," swung into a battery front to start on our long and L3'1 perilous journey past the reviewing stand. The order of "Squads left" resulted in utter confusion (any one might guess it would have to happen during a review), and we took a moment to unscramble ourselves and dress our line, but once recovered, we swept down the huge drill floor and by the reviewing stand in grand style. After the entire brigade had passed in review, the fun began, for the ball which followed was a great success. The following morning we returned to Upton, none the worse for our military dissipation. During the early part of April, the infantry units of the division began to move overseas. Due to the loss of many men on the final inspection, the depleted infantry ranks were brought up to strength by transfers from artillery units in the camp. We lost a total of one hundred and thirteen experienced men, which affected our battery strength not only in numbers but in the loss of well drilled men. The camp seemed very deserted, and all of the artillery units were in a sadly depleted condition. This led instantly to a bombardment of rumors that the artillery would not depart for overseas for some time to come; and, what was most depressing, other rumors gained cir- culation that the artillery, or what was left of it, would be converted into infantry. Unhappy thought! All thoughts of remaining in the States were dispelled by the whirl- wind march of events during what proved to be our last week at Camp Upton. Afi'airs took on a different color and all evidence pointed to an early departure. Equipment was inspected and re- inspected. Replacement troops came in large numbers from Camp Devens (Massachusetts) and Camp Dodge (Iowa). They were hur- riedly drilled to bring them up to the standard of men who had had some seven months' previous training. In the midst of this con- fusion, orders suddenly arrived for the battery to be prepared to move within three days — Sunday night, April 21, 19 18. The paper work in the office had to be brought up to the minute, and a complicated sail- ing list type-written in many copies. The supply sergeant had to bring the equipment of the men up to the requirements and dispose of any surplus. It meant practically all-night work for two nights. We were advised that Sunday would be the last opportunity offered for our friends and relatives to see us, and that farewells would have to be said in camp, since no passes would be granted. Sunday morning, April 21st, dawned with torrents of rain, blown by a cold, penetrating wind. Shortly after 9 a.m., relatives and friends began to arrive on the first trains from the city and splashed through the mud and rain, or, if they were fortunate enough, rode from the station to the barrack in jitney buses. At 1 1 a.m., the motor trucks from the Supply Company backed up to the front stoop of the barrack and a detail began loading the "blue bags." When this work was completed we were allowed to spend our time with our visitors. There were many pathetic scenes in the early afternoon as last farewells were said and relatives began to depart. At 2 p.m., an embarkation medical inspection of a very superficial nature was held and quickly completed. As evening drew on, more and more relatives took their last leaves, and by 8 p.m. the camp was cleared of civilians. Since the spring bunks and bed-sacks had been disposed of, we lay on the floor of the dormitories, on our blankets and overcoats, await- ing the call. Some were still engaged in making preparations for departure. At i a.m., the first sergeant's whistle blew and electric lights were switched on. The non-commissioned officers were gathered in the mess-hall and final instructions concerning the trip to the port of embarkation were given by the captain. There was a hurried mess; reserve rations were issued; packs were rolled; and the final policing of the barrack and battery area was finished. The confusion and excitement of the long day and the nervous anticipation of unusual events to come might well have dampened our spirits, yet some of us found energy to hang outside the barrack door painted signs on which were inscribed such phrases as, "Summer home to let — Owners gone to Europe for the Summer," "To let — In- quire Uncle Sam," "Good-by Upton — Will return in the Spring." Indeed, despite our fatigue, we were ready for anything which Fate might lay in our path, and Fate, to be sure, had many experiences in store for us. D3] The "Dizzy" BY VERNON B. SMITH He's what we call "a dizzy." He has a vacant stare, A countenance expressionless, a mop of matted hair; His conversation's jerky, his step serenely slow. He cannot seem to learn the things a soldier ought to know. He cannot hold his rifle right, nor do squads east and west; His uniform hangs slovenly across his sunken chest; He cannot pass inspection, his faults are not a few. But he's useful in the kitchen, for he can dish the stew. "Now give them all the stew they want," old Flatau used to say, "Yes, give the boys all they can eat, one spoonful each, to-day." The "dizzy" always dipped one spoon and gave not one drop more; He cared not for entreaties, he cared not how they swore. Oh, he's handy in the kitchen, for he knows not friend or foe. Although he cannot learn the things a soldier ought to know. Sn^cAHKEKejv aj^BS IT 3 A.M., Monday, April 22d, Battery "A" started on its way to join the American Expeditionary Forces. We assembled on the small drill grounds where we had executed squads right for seven months, and where many a pleasant afternoon had been spent playing baseball. A roll-call showed all men pres- ent. "Squads right," commanded Lieutenant Voll- mer, and the battery set forth for the great unknown. Ankle deep in mud, through the darkness and heavy fog of early morning, we splashed down Fourth Avenue, through 13th Street to Second Avenue, and on to the station. Long troop trains with their cars marked with the names of the units to occupy them were stand- ing in the station awaiting our arrival. We piled aboard and took our places, three men and their packs to each double seat. At 5.55 the train drew out, and as we whizzed by the familiar stations of Hicksville, Mineola, and Jamaica, much interest was displayed in our passage by early morning commuters, who waved us farewell. Nearing New York, all windows were ordered closed, and we were cautioned not to throw from the cars any messages addressed to relatives giving news of our departure. Also long pieces of manila cord were issued with which to tie our hats to our overcoats, presum- ably in anticipation of a cyclonic voyage down the East River. We detrained at Long Island City at 8.40 a.m., as shown by the huge clock on the Metropolitan Tower across the river. We marched through the terminal and crowded on the ferry-boat George Wash- ington, which, when loaded to capacity, drew quietly out of the slip, passed down the East River, around the Battery, and up the Hudson to the piers of the Hamburg- American Line. The trip consumed four hours, for the good ship George Washington manoeuvered up and down before the Hoboken piers, apparently waiting for a signal to indicate the slip at which she should dock. We anxiously won- dered which of the many transports, large and small, was to be ours, and were considerably elated when we tied up near the giant trans- atlantic liner Leviathan, formerly the German ship Vaterland. [35] Tightly jammed on the ferry, our packs weighing heavily on our weary backs, we were more than ready to go aboard the liner, but we had a long wait before leaving the boat and another under the great sheds of the dock, before we marched aboard the steamer. We were very hungry, for our last mess had been served at 2 a.m. Or- ders had been given that we must not touch our reserve rations without the consent of a commissioned officer, and no officer was thoughtful enough to say the word; but the vacant feeling in our vitals was partially relieved when women workers of the Red Cross served us coffee and two small buns apiece. As we marched aboard the Leviathan, each man's name was called from the sailing list, and as he responded to his name a billet ticket was given him, designating the section of the ship and the bunk which he was to call his own on the trip. Guides stationed on board direct- ed us to our quarters. The battery was assigned to two separate sections of "E" deck, one section just forward of amidships, the other just aft of amidships. The two sections were partially separated by an upper gallery running around the mess-hall in which we ate. This part of "E" deck had formerly contained second-class state-rooms, but all of the latter had been torn out and were replaced by narrow bunks of canvas stretched on frames of iron pipes. We could temper- ately describe the place as being almost suitable for tenth-class passengers, though on the whole it would have made a first-class opium den. The bunks were in tiers of four, the lowest about six inches from the floor and the highest about two feet below the ceil- ing. They had been built in every conceivable corner of the vessel, and were so close together that two men, passing each other in the narrow aisles, had to walk sideways. The ship was lighted with electricity, but the light was very dim because of blue glass bulbs. The port-holes were securely fastened, and a printed notice on each held the peremptory order "Don't Touch." Though everything seemed very crowded and dirty and smelly, the bunks were never- theless welcome to our weary bodies, and we flopped down on them, or up on them, as the case might be, and began wondering how long we would have to endure the discomforts of a transport. One of the first orders given by the ship's authorities commanded us to turn in all matches and pocket flash-lights, with the admonition that any man found with either would be subject to court-martial. Small lamps, carefully concealed in various parts of the ship, were to serve the purpose of lighting cigarettes and other forms of the life- giving weed. The reserve rations which we had carried so diligently in the face of hunger were likewise turned in, since they might not be n36] kept around our bunks. Smoking was forbidden in the sleeping quarters or in any part of the vessel not specially designated. At 5 P.M. we formed in line for the "dining saloon." Mess lines were formed in the various corridors above the mess-hall, and after an exasperating delay, converged at the head of the main staircase leading into what was at one time a gorgeous and spacious dining- room. The lines were checked at the foot of the stairs until there was room in the hall for additional men, when, at the blast of a whistle, we slid forward over the greasy floor with clattering mess- kits and shuffling feet, to be jostled by the guides to one of the many portable food containers. With mess-kits quickly filled we passed on to one of the long narrow tables running the length of the hall. Here we stood up to eat, ofttimes having to push away the discarded potato peelings, bread crusts, and other substances which in civilized communities go by the name of garbage, which had been left by those who ate before us. Guards stood by, continually calling, "Come on, get that food into you and get out," or similar orders conducive to the promotion of indigestion. The food was extraordinarily good, for we had many delicacies, such as bountiful servings of butter, pie, and cake, but it would have been more palatable had we eaten under less nauseating circumstances. Passing out of the mess-hall proper, we entered a smaller room containing the facilities for washing our utensils. The refuse was deposited in huge barrels and the kits washed in large, rectangular metal tubs filled with boiling water. Many men lost implements of their mess gear in the hot soapy water, but the order to keep moving was imperative and no time was given to recover them. The exits were through narrow passageways, slippery with grease from the washroom. They led to the upper decks, and once on "E" deck it was a puzzle to strike the right gallery leading to the battery section. However we may have disliked this whole un- attractive procedure of "being fed," we must admire the efficiency employed in serving several thousand men twice a day. There were between ten and fifteen thousand persons on board, and though by no means all of them were served in our mess-hall, yet the work of cooking for and serving such an army demanded well-laid plans. We may be truly thankful that we crossed the Atlantic with Uncle Sam as our chef "Gold fish" was heavenly manna to what the troops ate who traveled on British transports. The first two nights on board were spent in Hoboken harbor. There was little to do but stand on the crowded decks and watch the steve- dores loading huge crates into the hold and otherwise preparing the ship for voyage. Communication with the outside world was forbid- 1:37] den, and with very sober feelings we gazed at the New York City sky- line out before us. So near home for most of us, and yet an immeas- urable gulf intervened. With some consternation we learned that only two meals would be served each day, at 7.30 a.m. and 3 p.m., for there seemed to be nothing to do on board but eat, sleep, and pray the Almighty to guide us past submarines. On the night of the 23d, the guard duty of the ship was partly allotted to Battery "A." There were many strict rules to enforce and several of them gave keen delight to the privates on guard. About 500 nurses were numbered among the passengers. Army officers were not permitted to visit the nurses' deck, and greatly gratifying it was to a private on guard to come to port arms and turn back an officer who sought gallantly to click his spurs before some azure-footed Venus. What exquisite satisfaction, also, as the ship moved out, to chase an inquisitive general off the deck! Before leaving Hoboken we were given what were known as "Safe Arrival Cards," containing printed messages (to which nothing might be added), "Have arrived safely overseas." These cards, though sent ashore the night before we sailed, were held for the arrival of the ship on the other side before being mailed to the anxious addressees. On Wednesday, the 24th, most of us were awakened at 5.30 a.m. by the vibrations of the giant engines of the ship. Drawn by tugs down the river, the Leviathan started on her perilous journey in full regalia of wavy camouflage. With decks almost deserted she bid an au revoir to the Statue of Liberty, passed through the Narrows of lower New York Bay, and so out to sea through the Ambrose Chan- nel. Only here and there could we catch a glimpse of our passage, for we were kept off the decks until the open sea was reached, but some of us got a last look at the commanding towers of lower Manhattan. Packed in close confinement below deck we were glad enough when the port-holes were finally opened. The fresh sea breeze filtered into the stifling atmosphere of our quarters, but even with port-holes and large ventilators the air was decidedly foul, almost unbearably so at night, when the port-holes were closed. The eight days consumed in the voyage passed in monotonous routine. At reveille we crawled out of our bunks, carefully watching to see that the man above did not swing his feet too wildly, and prepared for an ante-breakfast inspection. These daily inspections were rated high among the sharpest thorns of our experiences during the voyage. All our equipment had to be folded and placed on the bunks according to a chart (a bad habit formed at Upton), all of it taken from the nooks and corners where it had been carefully put D8] away, and where it might just as well have been left until we reached the other side. It was a torturing task and most conducive to per- spiration and profanity. We got in each other's way and were con- tinually quarreling and struggling for elbow-room. The inspection was foolishly superficial and, so far as we could discover, served H.T.F.'ai absolutely no purpose but to keep us in the worst possible humor. After breakfast the battery was taken up to "B" deck for fifteen min- utes of calisthenics, after which we were allowed the freedom of the air for three quarters of a heavenly hour. About ii a.m. we were subjected to medical inspections of varied natures, and these over, surrendered the deck to another unit and went below to do what we could toward holding our breath until the next outing. Often we [39] managed to get up on "D" deck (all others were forbidden to us) to enjoy what comfort we could derive in the jostling crowds which always swarmed over its small area. With afternoon mess disposed of, we prepared for "Abandon Ship" drill, a long, tedious performance, but a very necessary precaution against stampeding in the emergency of our being torpedoed. A weird bugle-call sounded a theoretical alarm, and instantly all talk- ing ceased, for it was one of the strictest rules of the drill, lasting sometimes over an hour, that not a word be spoken save by those in authority. We rolled one blanket lengthwise and fastened it around the right shoulder and across the body over the life-preserver. Most of our equipment was left in the bunks, but we often took our gloves and always carried our canteens. The latter had been filled with fresh water before the pipe from the Hoboken pier had been discon- nected, and it was a court-martial offense to draw on their contents during the trip. We formed in line, and, at a given signal, marched without commotion yet quickly to an assigned place on deck. Here the life-boats and life-rafts allotted to us were situated. Naval officers, armed with pistols, were present in the vicinity of the boats to insure order. The only disappointing factor in the drill was that almost every day we were led to a different place, possibly a measure which was designed to prevent men from rushing headlong to a pre- determined part of the deck. When every man in the entire ship had reached his proper position, a recall was blown, and the long lines, extending from the life-boats to the very bowels of the vessel, turned silently back to the sleeping compartments. Toward dark all port-holes were shut tight and securely fastened. Lights went out on all the upper exposed parts of the vessel, and the interior of the ship was cast into the obscurit}^ of a dim blue light. During the evening the mess-hall was cleared of tables and thrown open for motion pictures. "Casey at the Bat" proved to be the prin- cipal feature, and Casey did himself proud every evening of the trip. At taps, 10 P.M., we had to be in our bunks. We had very few details. There were room orderlies, who were responsible for keeping our section clean and seeing to it that men disposed of rubbish in the proper receptacles. Spitting on the floor was positively prohibited, a fact which led to a game something on the order of "Tag, you're it." When a man was caught expectorating on the floor, he had to stand guard near the cuspidors until he in turn could detect another offender, who was forthwith compelled to relieve him. The kitchen detail, though it entailed hard work, was never- theless a popular one, for it brought exemption from tedious mess 1:403 lines and offered free access to the ship's larder. We all welcomed the day when Battery "A" men were assigned to this detail, for it led to bountiful helpings of pie and butter when we passed our friends at the serving counters. If this detail was enticing, another was proportionately repulsive. It was the garbage detail. The duty of the men on this detail con- sisted in hauling large galvanized cans of what came to be termed "fruit" from the lower parts of the ship to huge vats on deck. Since throwing the garbage into the sea during the day might have dis- closed our course to lurking submarines, the vats were not emptied until dark. Between the strenuous exertion of carrying the cans and the obnoxious stench of their contents the job became a fearful drudge, and the men were relieved every three days, despite the fact that the detail was supposed to be a permanent one for the same set of men during the entire trip. On the 30th, we were marched to "B" deck, formed in battery front, and stood muster, after which we went below and signed the pay-roll. On the same day steel helmets were issued — more equipment to clutter our crowded bunks and to lay out for inspection. That night found the Leviathan racing along in clear weather and a calm sea. An- nouncement was made that we would enter the submarine danger zone before midnight, and though the critical period of the voyage was upon us we felt little alarm. Orders were issued that all precau- tions against showing lights, throwing refuse overboard, and other- wise disclosing our course were to be more strictly heeded than ever, and instructions were given that every man must sleep fully dressed and with his life-preserver strapped on. The latter command made sleeping a most unattractive occupation, for the life-belts bolstered up our stomachs and gave one the back-breaking sensation of bal- ancing one's spine across a log. Many loosened their preservers and slipped them under their heads. There were no evident signs of fear as we approached the danger zone, but there was one short period of depression when a colonel, unheralded, entered the battery compartment about 10 p.m. The blue lights were burning dimly and only the throb of the great engines disturbed the quiet. Suddenly, in a deep, sepulchral voice, the colonel began speaking, slowly, distinctly, and with startling effect. At first it sounded as if he were about to launch tragically into some horrible ghost-story. "We are about to enter the war zone," he said. "Enemy submarines are lurking around to destroy us. No lights must be shown. To do so would invite destruction of all souls on board. No one must dare go near or touch a port-hole. The :4i] guards have instructions to shoot. Every man's blood is upon his own head. Take heed, take heed." This blood-curdling warning was as unexpected as it was solemn, and for a moment we were spell- bound. The colonel left the compartment in the complete silence of a morgue, but after a few breathless moments the stillness was broken by an inquiring voice from an obscure corner, "Who in hell let that bird in?" and with the spell broken, similar remarks followed amid suppressed laughter, "Who has a match? I want a smoke," "Hey, if you're going to smoke, open one of those port-holes," "Hey, guard, open that port-hole; it's too hot in here." At an early hour of the following morning we picked up our con- voy of four destroyers, and a very pretty and reassuring sight they presented as they danced and bobbed along the sea. During the day we had a scare, for a suspicious-looking object was discovered on the surface of the water not far away. One of the destroyers suddenly wheeled about and dropped back to investigate the matter, but the object of our fears was merely a harmless barrel, and we breathed more freely. During our passage through the submarine zone the Leviathafi gun crews were always ready for action, a circumstance which heightened our feelings of security, for the crews were picked gunners of the United States Navy, and were able, if one could judge from the expedition with which they went through their gun drills, to hit a porpoise at two miles. Another night was passed on our life-belt mattresses, and in the H.T.F. 'ai X 8 J Side do OP •p\xllrt\£>i\S [42] morning the transport was sounding its way into the channel of Brest harbor through a heavy fog. The fog soon lifted and revealed the port of Brest and its surroundings in all their passive beauty. The sky was cloudless, the hills wonderfully green, the water smooth as glass and dotted with sleeping vessels, while the town of Brest, perched high above the harbor, seemed to invite us to come ashore. The ship quickly reached its place of anchorage and immediately barges came alongside to carry the troops ashore. Y. M. C. A. workers came aboard to arrange for our alleged com- forts, the arrangement consisting in the magnanimous presentation of a pink card on which was printed a stirring welcome to the shores of France, a paragraph in which the Y. M. C. A. expressed the fervent hope that we were not boastful, a poem entitled "My Prayer," beginning with the line "White Captain of my soul, lead on," and, on the reverse side of the card, a suggestive exposition of the rates of money exchange granted at the "Y" canteen. About 3 p.m., we were ready to leave the vessel, but the prior departure of other troops kept us waiting over an hour. As we passed oflf the ship, sandwiches, cake, and fruit were given to us. British sergeants were on the light- ers to direct the loading of the boats, and crowded us aboard until we could scarcely breathe. With the regimental band playing "Good- by, Broadway, Hello, France," we drew away from the Leviathan and sailed to the pier. About 5 P.M., we set foot on French soil. Immediately assembled on the dock, we began the three-mile hike to Camp Pontanazen, ac- companied here and there by crowds of French children who pestered us for money, food, and "cigarettes pour Papa." The day was in- tensely hot and the road exceedingly steep at the outset of the jour- ney. These circumstances, added to the fact that we were enervated by a week of unhealthy confinement on board ship, made our packs seem as heavy as the sins of Herod and the prolonged hike unbear- ably tedious. About eight o'clock we arrived at Pontanazen barracks. The latter consisted of several two-story buildings set in an area which v/as surrounded by high walls of solid masonry. The camp had been standing since the middle of the sixteenth century, and looked it. The buildings were originally used as a monastery. Napoleon being the first to utilize it as a military camp. After our arrival we drew rations and procured a field kitchen from the camp storehouse. It was 1 1 p.m. before coffee and corned beef hash were served, and by that time, too, a drizzling rain was in prog- ress to aggravate our humor and increase our impatience at the delay of the mess. 1:43] After our disheartening experiences on the Leviathan we needed healthful rest, invigorating exercise, and fresh air, all of which we obtained in plenty during our short stay at Brest. The barracks were cold and uncomfortable, since we slept on the floors, but the weather was for the most part bracing and a tremendous contrast to the stifling atmosphere of "E" deck. We did a little drilling and twice the regiment sallied forth from the camp and marched through Brest and other towns in the vicinity. With the band blaring its martial airs we paraded through the surrounding country with the sweep of a conquering army. There were details for building a baseball field (and a game in which Lieutenant Reid played catcher), and steve- dore work which sent several men to the docks at the harbor. But otherwise there was no fatigue duty beyond the usual kitchen work. At Pontanazen we met the censor in all his glory, and while we had plenty of time to write letters, our enthusiasm for that occupation was somewhat curbed by the thought of allowing a censor to read the many thrilling stories we might have concocted about our adventures with submarines; nor did we feel that we wished any officers to see the inner workings of our hearts as we poured forth expressions of passionate affection for our best girls. Indeed, the censorship seemed to be the one missing link in the chain of our military imprison- ment. On May 7th, reveille was sounded at 1.30 a.m. We ate mess in the rain, rolled packs, and retraced our steps to the railroad beside the docks. Here we made the undesirable acquaintance of French box- cars. These antiquated vehicles became known to us as "Hommes 40 — Chevaux 8," or "side-door Pullmans." The anticipation of ex- periencing a ride in one of these cars was as keen at the beginning of the journey as was our hate for them at the end of it. The cars were small and dirty. Many flat wheels and no springs brought little comfort from the start. Inside, four rows of benches ran parallel with the length of the car, being broken in the center where the doors were located. This small open space was half filled with travel rations, loaves of bread, canned tomatoes, "canned willy," and "canned monkey meat," a healthy diet for any one who is given to starv- ing. Forty men were jammed into each car, and with them and their rifles and their bulky packs and the benches and the rations, we had a time of it finding a place to "park ourselves." "E" deck, minus the stench, would have been a palace in comparison. The train pulled out at 10.10 a.m. The horror of the ensuing trip gained momentum with every kilometer until, at midnight, we reached the extremity of torture. Sleep or anything even approaching a 1:44] state of rest was out of the question. Convulsive attempts were made periodically by each man to extricate himself from the tangle of arms and legs about him by pushing in every direction at the same time, a contortion which invariably ended in damaging some one's face. Some found that a loaf of bread does not make a bad pillow, but only a few men could lie down near the rations. The rest sat on the benches, immersed among rifles and elbows and packs, occasionally losing consciousness to the extent of snoring loudly in the most con- venient ear which presented itself, or flopping forward on the muzzle of the nearest rifle. The day-time was little better, though the scen- ery was interesting and often very picturesque. We had plenty of food aboard, but no one wanted much of it, for we ate merely to live for better days. There were no toilet facilities and the train made no regular stops, and when it did stop we were forbidden to alight under threat of court-martial. Captain Dick was to be seen at every stop watching to see that no one got out of the cars; his implicit confi- dence in his fellow-countrymen was beautiful to behold. On a few occasions, however, we were allowed to stretch ourselves, guards be- ing stationed along the rails to see that no men went beyond the area designated. Misery played its trump-cards throughout the trip, and when we saw the officers alighting at all stations to buy drink and food we were disgusted beyond expression, and our American senti- ments of equality and fair play cropped up through our training in military discipline. At 3 A.M., May 8th, we arrived at Nantes and detrained long enough to be served a luke-warm liquid which, so we were given to understand, was coffee. At lo p.m. we rolled into the great terminal at Bordeaux, and here again we detrained for coffee. Half an hour later we left Bordeaux, and at 2.30 in the morning arrived at Bonneau, eleven miles from the former city. In an exhausted, almost dazed condition, we piled off the troop train and set out through the inky darkness for Camp de Souge, a hike of some three miles. At about 4 o'clock in the morning we threw ourselves down on the bunks in our barracks, some of us not even waiting to find beds, but dropping to the concrete floors to fall asleep immediately. Most of us slept until noon, when we arose to enjoy the refreshing delight of a wash and a shave, the first in three days. 1:45:1 ROiVl the standpoint of comfort and convenience, Camp de Souge was a pleasant relief from the quar- ters at Brest, and served to restore our optimism about France. The camp v/as situated about eleven miles from Bordeaux on a stretch of sandy soil. Our barracks, li, I2, and I3, were long, one-story wooden buildings with abundant light and ventilation from many windows. They were electrically lighted, and each barrack at the rear had a pump and a wash trough with running cold water. A wash-house and a bath-house containing showers were a few hundred yards away, all too distant, however, for frequent usage. The mess-hall, similar in size and shape to the barracks, and the kitchen shed were situated to the north side. The mess-hall was teeming with prolific species of French flies, which always slept between meals but invariably joined us at mess with sociable animation, to attack our food with ill-mannered but envi- able relish. A few days of rest were granted us to recover from strenuous days of travel, and to settle ourselves in our new quarters before resuming the interrupted course of our training. Once begun, we had little respite from the grueling ordeal of constant work, for here the bat- tery received its final, indeed we might say its only, instruction in artillery. Certainly what little we had previously learned of Amer- ican artillery methods in Camp Upton was of practically no use to us now, for we discarded the American system for the French, and were, in fact, to use only French ordnance. Our guns did not arrive for four weeks, and during that period the battery continued its training in much the same order which had prevailed at Upton: calisthenics, dismounted drill, standing gun drill, with the addition of a few futile lectures on the ammunition and operation of a six- inch howitzer. The lectures were delivered by sergeants of the 26th Division lately arrived from the front and assigned to the camp as instructors. The other features need no particular mention, but we must pause to recall the terrors of physical exercise led by the inde- [46] fatigable Ardiff. We can never forget the "cadence, exercise, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, halt," as Ardiff, that master con- tortionist, gave us our preliminary setting-up exercises, nor the hate- ful heat of the dusty road on which we did the goose-step and other exhausting feats; and we can recall with a good deal of amusement the game which, for a better name, we may call "you there, you there, you there, and you there," in which four equal parts of the bat- tery, stationed in squad formation at the four corners of an imaginary square, rapidly exchanged places with one another at the command of Ardiff, who stood in the center, yelling directions. Under this conditioning we soon became hard as rocks, ate like lions, and slept as if we were on feather-beds instead of straw-mattressed bunks. And well it was that we did, for the weary days to follow on the range were soon to command our utmost endurance. While the main body of the battery continued the same drudgery which had characterized its training for the past seven months, a few men were selected for special instruction. The officers were temporarily detached and attended an officers' school in the camp for the purpose of learning French artillery methods under experi- enced instructors. The gun sergeants took a course in the nomen- clature and operation of the 155 mm. howitzer, the type of gun which was to be ours. The men first selected as gunners also attended this course. There was only one gun of the kind in the camp, and in- dividual instruction was almost impossible, so that few derived any particular value from the slight theoretical knowledge imparted to them. A few selected men were taught how to operate the Hotch- kiss machine-gun. The work of the special detail was directed by Captain Dick, and consisted in learning the French system of fire and the use of complicated tables for the computing of firing data. Men of this department were also instructed in the manner of hand- ling such instruments as the compass, goniometer, scissors instru- ment, plotting board, in the operation of the projector, and in visual signaling by means of flags. On the range a few men were given opportunities of observing fire. The telephone men attended a school to learn the French telephone system, methods of laying, tak- ing up, testing, and repairing wires, and in the manipulation of telephone instruments and switchboards. Toward the end of May, the battery received its first assignment of horses. Several men, uninitiated in the ways of equestrianism, were induced to line up before the supply room to be measured for saddles, to the vast amusement of the more sophisticated members of the battery. The men selected as drivers reported each morning at the shed-like stables at the upper end of the camp, and remained there during the entire day, and a strenuous, hot, dusty day it always was. Lieutenant Reid was delegated to take charge of the stables and Washkewitz was made stable sergeant. The drivers were in the main inexperienced in the handling of horses, and Lieutenant Reid's work was in consequence exceptionally difficult, especially as many of the animals were not well broken. Initial instruction was given in the feeding, grooming, and general care of horses, after which methods of harnessing were taught, followed, lastly, by instruction in riding, first single mounts, then teams, and finally pairs teamed together. This situation called for an instructor who thoroughly understood horses and who, aside from being a disciplinarian, had the patience to teach green men their various and unaccustomed tasks. No better man could have been found than Lieutenant Reid, whose experience, patience, and devotion eminently qualified him for the work, though he had far more interest in the actual operation of the guns, and felt distinctly chagrined at being sequestered at the stables, robbed of an opportunity for mastering the principles of fire to which he, as senior lieutenant, firing executive, and second in command, was clearly entitled. On Saturday night, June 8th, after being in France five weeks and in Camp de Souge four weeks, the battery received its four 155 mm. howitzers. On Sunday the guns were cleaned, and on Monday morn- ing instruction in the nomenclature of the piece, standing gun drill, and simulated firing began in earnest. This training lasted exactly one day and a half before the guns were taken to the range for their operation with the use of explosives. How our mothers would have quailed had they known we would fire our guns with little more than a day's practice! On Tuesday afternoon we enjoyed a sensation which we experienced on very few occasions during our sojourn in France. We rode on trucks, the guns trailing rapidly after us, to Observation Post No. 1 on the camp range. Here we heaved the four pieces into position and laid them for firing in the morning, after v/hich we returned to the barracks. In the early morning of June 1 2th, the crews arose and went to the range. The officers of the regiment were in the high wooden observation post behind the pieces to receive actual practice in target fire and adjustment. At 9.15 A.M. the firing began, and despite the fact that we were unused to handling shell and were undoubtedly over-cautious of fuses and powder, we concealed our nervousness admirably and conducted the fire with smoothness. Corporal Stevens and the third gun crew under Sergeant Schildknecht were the first to fire. 1:483 Firing at this observation post continued for two days, when the guns were brought back to the gun park in the rear of the barracks, in order to give our place on the range to other batteries. On Wednesday, June 19th, the battery moved to Observation Post No. 13. The guns were hauled along a sandy grass road which ex- tended from a main highway into the range, and placed in position among some shrubbery. The special detail laid their system of com- munication, and the drivers received their first actual experience in driving four pair of horses by hauling up ammunition in caissons and gun supply carts. For the first time in their army careers the firing battery really simulated warfare, living entirely in the open and using field equipment. Here, as in Upton, the battery proved its worth as a 'Tire battery," for scarcely a day passed but the call of 'Tire on the range" started us on a weary chase across the rough tracts of waste and underbrush to the neighborhood of our targets, to extinguish the flames which our own projectiles had started. These numerous range fires, the lack of water, except what was brought to us in the water cart for drinking and cooking purposes, and the long hours of hard work, conducted chiefly in a broiling hot sun, changed the interesting and novel excitement of our experiences on the range into exhausting drudgery, which, on some occasions, proved the worse for our tempers. The following Sunday the pieces were returned to the gun park. The next position was Area 5 1 , where a brigade barrage problem was fired. This fire was directed over part of the camp, and the men at the stables and in other localities experienced the disturbing sensation of hearing shell whistle through the air over their heads. Moving the following day, a position was taken in Area 53, and here the battery fired with balloon observation. On Sunday, June 30th, we paraded five miles to Observation Post No. 1 1 . The guns were drawn by horses, while the men, with the exception of the officers and a few fortunate sergeants, hiked with full packs. The day was intensely hot and the march a tremendous strain. On Tuesday, July 2d, the guns were withdrawn to the camp again. This terminated the firing practice of the battery, in all only eleven days of actual fire, and with this painfully brief period of training we were pro- nounced as capable of taking part in battle and of adequately sup- porting the divisional infantry in their operations. It is a fact not to be overlooked, for many divisions were never supported by their own artillery because the latter could not graduate from training camps in time to join them at the front. It is a fact which establishes the high intelligence of both officers and men of the Seventy-seventh Division L49l H.X.Fi '21 Oii;Serv2d:ioivPo^t No.l. Csotcp dejSoMP'e. artillery that they could, in so short a time, effectively master the knowledge of their guns and the confidence in their operation that enabled them to take a prominent and creditable part in later campaigns. The above paragraph concludes the narration of the main issues of our stay at Camp de Souge, and includes merely an important sum- mary of our work there, but there are other matters which we can- not pass by without at least cursory or suggestive remarks. Among these, the one of outstanding importance was the appoint- ment of a new battery commander to replace Captain Dick, who, after the completion of our work on the range, was assigned as a permanent instructor at Camp de Souge. With much anxiety we awaited the appointment of his successor. In our minds there was but one suitable selection, that of Lieutenant Reid. He was the senior lieutenant, and, up to the time of his inexplicable sequestration [503 to a more reduced position in the stables, had been firing executive of the battery from the beginning of its existence. He knew all the men personally and some intimately. It was his delight to work with them and theirs to work with him. He handled all with perfect judgment and obtained maximum results, and while, as many in- stances demonstrate, he demanded strictest discipline, yet he never attempted to prussianize the organization. Despite the fact that he had spent the major portion of his efforts in constantly supervising the work at the stables, and had missed the necessary artillery prac- tice on the range, he nevertheless gained the recognition of Colonel Smith, and was recommended for promotion. The news of his selec- tion was greeted with tremendous enthusiasm, and his own feelings are best expressed by the words he spoke at the time, "Now, I am happy." Several other changes occurred in the personnel of the officers. Lieutenant Armstrong was transferred to the Headquarters Company as regimental gas officer. First Lieutenant O'Connor and Second Lieutenant Barker were assigned to the battery, the former in the position of executive of the firing battery, the latter as second ex- ecutive during the absence of Lieutenant Grahn, who was detailed to Montargis in charge of a detachment for collecting horses. Lieuten- ant Barker, a few days before the battery left for the front, was thrown from his horse and removed to the camp hospital, and Lieu- tenant O'Connor was assigned to the camp as an instructor. On July 3d the brigade vacated camp and moved to a race-track rl.T. r. '21 near Bordeaux, encamping there for the night, preparatory to a parade through the city on the Fourth of July. On the morning of the Fourth, with guns glistening, horses shining (as much as an army horse can shine), and with caissons loaded with cannoneers, their arms folded across their chests in approved military fashion, we paraded through the streets of Bordeaux, thronged with people, by the decorated reviewing stand in the Place des Quinconces, and out of the city to our temporary camp. The following morning we returned to Camp de Souge, and from then until July 1 5th, when the battery entrained for the front, no work of any importance occupied us save preparing for the move. Aside from these incidents there are several matters of general interest which demand a few passing words. One was that of training in gas defense. Great stress was laid on that phase of our work in Upton, although, as we have seen, the facilities for instruction had been very limited. At Camp de Souge every man had his own gas-mask, and drill was seriously and effectively pursued under the tutelage of Lieutenant Armstrong, Gas Sergeant Bernstein, and Corporal Kopp. We practised speed of adjustment, talking, pressing out for gas, wearing our protectors for ever-increasing periods of time, at the guns, at drill, on the mess line, and any other time or place when the hate- ful cry of "Gas" resounded in our ears. Finally v/e all went through the gas tank, but intensive training in the use of the mask really reached its height when Lieutenant Armstrong conceived the idea of waiting until the battery was asleep before sounding an alarm. The effect would have been more startling had not the news of the con- templated gas attack leaked out. As it was, we all slept with gas- masks near by, adjusted them in record time, and made Lieutenant Armstrong feel that he was a highly , efficient gas officer, that his wiork had been accomplished, and that we were entitled to a respite from continual drill. Captain Dick drove home the seriousness of gas de- fense by delivering a series of highly intimidating lectures. Well can it be remembered how he raised his hand in warning as he told us that we must learn to be quick, for, if we were a second late, we would be subject to the "horrible death" of "drowning in our own blood." In fact. Captain Dick's lectures were frequent and always terrible in their significance. He gave stirring talks on maintaining high standards of morality while on pass in Bordeaux. One thrilling oration was delivered on saluting, in v^hich, by a process of masterly inductive logic, the underlying cause of America's entrance into the war was laid to the failure of the Russian soldiers to salute properly. Their neglect in this respect caused the disintegration of morale in the Russian army, and so the decline and downfall of its fighting powers, which, in turn, made it easy prey for the German hosts. Germany, with Russia eliminated, again became a formidable power, threatening to crush the Allies, and so America had to step in. Thus the importance of the salute and the dreadful consequences of neglect were brought home to us. A speech was also made on the subject of obeying the orders of non-coms, and came to be commonly known as the "Never ask why" speech. This was to protect non-coms, ofttimes in their stupidity, but woe to the man who asked "why." He was summoned before the captain, and the very charge guaranteed a verdict of guilty. Tenny- son's line, "Theirs not to reason why," was to be stenciled on each man's memory. We cannot linger to discuss our trips to Bordeaux, obtained at the expense of repeating the general orders in a fashion not unlike a pupil in Sunday-school reciting the Ten Commandments, nor many other things we might recall, — guard-duty in the camp and at Bon- neau, the Y. M. C. A. huts, "Sergeant" Shurman as custodian to the key of the "gas cloud," the tedious lines in front of the commissary, our Sunday recreations, our comforts and discomforts, and a host of humorous incidents which marked our stay at Camp de Souge and alleviated the strain of our life there. We must pass on to subsequent stages of our history in which our long months of training bore fruit. L5il Pious Prendie BY VERNON B. SMITH This is a sorrowful story of how a name was won, The name of "Pious Prendie," the lord of the Hotchkiss gun. Remember those passes to Bordeaux, when the first chosen few went down To reconnoiter the city and size up the good old town. To see if Bordeaux was a fit place for the men of the rank and file To go without a chaperone and wander about for a while? Well, Prendie was one of the chosen, so narrow, straight, and thin. To go with the rest of the non-coms, and steer them away from sin. The city laughed in the sunshine, it seemed to call him to stray Into its frolicking, joyous paths — far from the narrow way. Prendie struggled manfully to force his lagging steps To lead him past the cafe signs, and drag him by "buvettes." 'One little drink won't hurt me, one little sip of vin Will give me the 'pep' to lead the boys out of the paths of sin." So his devil argued, till at last the devil won. And forced him out of his narrow path into a hell of rum. I'll skip the painful story of how he stayed and drank, Of how he lost his dignity, and made himself a "tank," Of how he hired a taxi-cab to take him back to camp, And how he woke the barracks, when the morning dews were damp; But this is what our hero did before he "hit the hay," He dropped right down upon his knees, and started in to pray. "Oh, Lord, forgive my sin," quoth he, "for solemnly I swear I'll never take another drink," so ran his soulful prayer. Repentance smote him to the heart — that's why we all agree That Prendie well deserves a name for greatest piety. WEEK of expectant and somewhat impatient waiting was terminated by the receipt of orders directing us to leave Camp de Souge. We had had plenty of time to prepare carefully for our departure, and the final loading of equipment in the trucks was easily and quickly accomplished. We drew out of the gun park at 6.45 Monday evening, July 1 5th, lumbered through the main gateway of the camp, and there bade fare- well to the colony of temporary cafes, movie theaters, and fruit stands which were popularly known to us as "Coney Island," and which we had patronized most lavishly during the past weeks. An hour's march brought us to the railway station at Bonneau. We knew that Colonel Smith was to accompany us on the coming trip, and felt that he was present for the purpose of judging Lieuten- ant Reid's ability to fill his new post of battery commander. We therefore redoubled our efforts to load the train with expeditious efficiency, and if we may be permitted to throw buttercups at our- selves, we accomplished our work most creditably for inexperienced men, taking a little over two hours to complete the task. The train was late and did not arrive until 1 1 p.m. It consisted of fifty cars, flat-cars for the guns and carriages, and the hateful "Hommes 40 — Chevaux 8" for the horses and men. While the loading of guns and rolling stock was comparatively easy, considerable difficulty was encountered in persuading some of the more obstinate horses to enter their Pullmans. In several cases it was necessary to push the animals in with our shoulders. Our labors were hastened not only by a desire to make record time and a good impression, but also by a threatening storm, which flashed and thundered over the eastern horizon. Some of us may remember the forest fire which for a time raged away in the distance, and to which, strange as it still appears in the light of past experience in Souge, we were not called. We snatched a few hours' sleep before reveille and breakfast at 5.30 A.M. The train pulled slowly out a half-hour later. The trip, on the whole, was a decided improvement over the last one, and we 1:55] had Lieutenant Reid to thank for the change. Considerate to the last degree, he determined to make us as comfortable as possible. The field kitchen was placed on the flat-car next to the box-cars which contained the men. Hot food and coffee were always ready for us, and arrangements were made with the engineer to stop the train for mess. The box-cars were not half filled with heavy benches, as on the other trip, and our straw bed-sacks, transported from camp and spread on the floors of the cars, softened the bumps and af- forded us ample opportunity for comfortable sleep. As we look back on it, our lot was far from a miserable one. While in the army our greatest wish was to be out of it, yet not every civilian can get a free ride through France, and, if he does, he cannot lie on the floor of his compartment, dangle his feet out of the door, yell at the girls along the road, or take off his shirt at any time, so, after all, while we did not sleep between sheets or wipe mock-turtle soup off our lips with a clean white napkin, yet in some respects we fared better than we may at some future date, if we travel the same route in stiff collars. Passing through St. Medard, we arrived at Bordeaux about 9.20 A.M. We stopped just long enough to water the horses, many of the men jumping out to wash their hands and douse their heads under the pumps along the station platform. Morrides, St. Astier, and Perigueux were passed, the last about three in the afternoon. Here, through an error of the railroad authorities, the instrument car, con- taining all the fire-control equipment, was detached, and at Thiviers, where the loss was first discovered, Sergeant Franklin and Private Lajoie were sent back to attend to its recovery. At Limoges, which we reached at eight in the evening, we drew up on a track running along the main street, and for an hour enjoyed watching French soldiers and mademoiselles, and talking with them as much as our French and their English would permit. The next day took us through country rich in scenic beauty, containing the towns of Bourges, Sancerre, Chatillon-sur-Seine, and Chaumont (A.E.F. headquarters). The last we reached about 1 1.30 p.m. Just outside Chaumont, Fol- vig, who v^'as doing guard-duty in one of the horse-cars, was kicked out by one of the horses and received a severe gash in the head. The accident was not discovered and the train rattled on, leaving him on the tracks. Though dazed by the fall, he was able to walk several kilometers along the tracks to an infantry camp. He was sent to a hospital, later rejoining the battery at Bazoches. Early the follow- ing morning a similar incident occurred, this time to a horse. He managed to get loose from the halter chain, backed around, and fell out of the car with the train in motion. Landing on his feet, he [56] valiantly pulled himself together, and, until the train made a stop three miles ahead, galloped merrily after it, patriotically determined at all odds not to be considered a deserter. Under the guidance of Lieutenant Reid the noble beast was lifted almost bodily into the car again, none the worse for his marathon exploit and inconsider- ately unabashed at the trouble he had caused. At Darney, on the morning of the i8th, one of the flat-cars con- taining two of the caissons was detached on account of spring trouble. It later rejoined us at Baccarat. Epinal was passed at 9.45 a.m., Charmes at 10.40, and Blainville an hour later. We reached Luneville at noon. Mess was served at the station platform. The ensuing ride to Baccarat aroused con- siderable interest. We now knew what we had suspected from the beginning of the trip, that we were bound for the Lorraine sector, and we found all along the road distinct signs of battle, which had been, ever since our coming to France, the objects of our curiosity. While these signs of war were nowhere as marked as those which we later saw, yet many of the buildings were demolished, bridges destroyed, and long lines of rusty barbed-wire defenses ran across fields and even through the shallow waters of the Meurthe River. The Germans had taken this territory in the early months of the war, later to vacate it and leave behind them results of their campaign, and, above all, the graves which dotted the fields immediately adjoin- ing the railroad track. The train drew into Baccarat at 2.30 p.m. on July i8th. We had traveled for three days and two nights, covering a total distance of about five hundred kilometers. At Baccarat, Lieutenant Grahn and the detail assigned to get horses at Montargis rejoined us. At Baccarat, also, we met some of the infantrymen of our division who had preceded us to the Lorraine sector. They filled our ears with harrowing tales of the front lines, and told us what later proved to be authentic information, that the enemy, in anticipation of our arrival, had displayed signs from their observation balloons, "Good-by, 42d — Hello, 77th." With these wild stories disturbing our peace of mind, we began our march to- ward the front. Immediately upon reaching the main road from the town, a factory whistle blew with a sound similar to the Strombos horn which we had been taught was a signal for a gas alarm. Many anxious looks and nervous laughs indicated that we considered ourselves really in for it now, and that we might expect a heavy bombardment at any second. Our fears were allayed for the moment when we were assured that the whistle was not the prelude to a gas D73 cloud, and we continued along the road in better spirits. We pulled through Merviller and off to the right up a steep hill to an orchard, where the guns were parked under the camouflage of the trees. Con- tinuing up the hill behind the camouflage nets which walled the left of the road and hid it from the enemy observation balloons, we came to the Bois de Bouloy, and here the echelon was established. With wagons unloaded, tents pitched, picket-lines stretched between several of the trees, and with other numerous details attended to, all in the darkness of early evening, we were assembled for instructions. The dangers of our position were emphatically impressed upon us, and the necessity of precaution against enemy observation was explained and enlarged upon, until our worst suspicions of expected death in the very near future were increased to such an extent that we hesi- tated to disturb a single leaf or twig for fear a photograph from an enemy plane might disclose our hiding-place. There were to be no lighting of matches, no smoking except under cover, no flash-lights employed, no congregating in groups with aeroplanes overhead, no gazing at enemy planes. Guards were placed along the edge of the wood to stop men from venturing beyond the protection of the trees or tramping down the grain in the neighboring fields, but despite our weariness and apprehensions, curiosity was too much for us, and many stole to the edge of the woods and watched the signal rockets rise steadily above the distant horizon, up and up, and then dis- appear. Occasionally the sustained flare of a star-shell lit up the dark hills. It was for the most part intensely quiet, and we could scarcely believe that this was war, though the weird lights gave the scene a strange touch, and made us feel that unexpected things might happen at any moment. At one time, far off to the left, the faint glow and distant rumble of a bombardment showed that the scene before us was not so peaceful as it looked. The next morning we were treated to our first glimpse of an enemy aeroplane. A whir was heard overhead, and a gray plane shot over the woods, flying fairly low. There was a wild scramble for helmets. A barrage of bursting shrapnel from anti-aircraft guns sought to encircle the German, but he got away safely, leaving us with a pro- found respect for German aviation. Later in the day an ammunition dump not far from the echelon blew up. In the afternoon. Lieutenant Reid, with Sergeants Welch, Field, Schildknecht, and Gray, went forward on reconnaissance to select positions for the guns. The positions finally chosen were a few hundred yards beyond Vaxenville. They had been previously oc- C58: cupied and were to some extent already prepared as gun-pits, but needed renovation. That same night the third and fourth gun crews went forward under cover of darkness to improve one of the pits which was especially dilapidated, that to be occupied by the third piece. Two of the positions were dug into the high bank on the forward side of the road about twenty yards apart. Below the road to the left rear were the other two emplacements (guns number three and number four). Below the road and directly back of the first platoon were the kitchen and a roughly constructed shack which served us well as a mess-shack during our short stay, and which, with one exception, proved to be the only mess-hall we were to have on this or any other front. All paths leading from one emplacement to another were fenced off with wire to prevent their enlargement by constant usage, for any change in the terrain was, we were told, easily perceptible in comparative photographs taken by observation planes. On the night of July 20th the guns were moved forward, arriving exactly at midnight, and were heaved into their respective emplace- ments, after which we had our first taste of underground sleeping quarters. Our dugouts were fairly comfortable, and there were enough of them to allow for sufficient elbow-room, though a dugout at best would not appeal to any of us as an ideal home. At least they were safe, and safety was an important factor in our lives in those days. Our dugouts there were the acme of security as compared with the shallow fox-holes which we later dug for ourselves in other fronts, so, despite their dampness, we had little enough to complain of. The night of the 25th, however, tended to shatter our confidence in the invincibility of our earthen homes, for a Boche plane came humming and humming over the lines and dropped several bombs on the cross-roads about a hundred yards from the position. The effect on our nerves was instantaneous, and many acts were com- mitted which now cause a smile. Petterson, on guard, shot off his rifle as a gas alarm. Some threw themselves into their dugouts; almost all adjusted their gas-masks and helmets in panic-stricken haste. The next day, however, true to the American mania for souvenirs, many of us were up at the cross-roads, collecting pieces of shell-casing to treasure as evidence of our first experience with hostile fire. It was not until the 26th that the battery fired its first and only mission on the Lorraine front. Lieutenant Reid, Lieutenant Grahn, and Sergeant Franklin laid the guns for fire. The target assigned to us was a trench in the enemy lines. French officers supervised the firing. The shots were plotted by the sound-ranging method. The first data to be given was in the following form — Base deflection — Right 171 (correction left 12) Shell— OA Fuse — SR Charge — O Site — plus 6 Elevation — 480 Method of Fire — At my command The firing was from left to right, and the fourth piece, therefore, received the honor of sending our first greeting to Germany. When the command was given, the fourth piece was loaded and primed, loaded with a shell which bore the names of the gun crew chalked upon it, together with an appropriate message to Fritz. Lieuten- ant Reid sent the command of "Fire" over the wire to Lieutenant Grahn, who passed it on to Sergeant Gray; and quicker than it takes to write it, Sergeant Gray shouted "Fire," and Kearns pulled the lanyard. With a terrific roar the gun leaped back on the revetment, and the whistle of the projectile could be heard in its swift flight over the lines. Several Frenchmen from the eight-inch howitzer battery adjoining our position were there to watch the performance, and assured the fourth gun crew that in the early days of the war, when they had fired their first shot, they had been able to do so only with the aid of "beaiicoup de vin." Thus Battery "A," less than a year after its organization, made its real debut as an active member of the American Expeditionary Forces. At the end of the sixth shot, number four ceased firing and num- ber three began, at the command of Sergeant Schildknecht. The operations of this gun were somewhat delayed because the first shot set the camouflage afire. The second piece, under the command of Sergeant Field, was next to fire, with the result that the concussion raised havoc with the kitchen, twenty-five yards to the rear. A can of soup and a boiler of stewed tomatoes overturned and put out the fire under them. The first piece, under Sergeant Welch, com- pleted the firing, and with this final adjustment a target shot was reported. The French officers who had supervised the fire plotted the shots on a map and gave it to Lieutenant Reid, who carried it in his pocket to the time of his death, and always displayed it and its target shot with the greatest pride. The chances are, however, that the German trench was deserted, and in view of the damaging efi'ect on our mess, it is probable that we suffered far more than the enemy. We did no more firing from this position, although great quantities [60] of ammunition arrived each night to disturb our sleep and aggravate our tempers. Aside from the unloading, distribution, arrangement, and rearrangement of shell, the firing battery had little to do. Never again were we to have such comfort at the front, and while it rained on several occasions, we had many pleasant days in which to enjoy ourselves. We came to realize that we had little to fear from enemy activity, for there seemed to be a tacit agreement with the Germans that this sector should be a quiet one, where wearied divisions might be sent for rest and recuperation, and though we always had one eye open against enemy observation planes, we made the most of our comfortable security by bathing in the little stream behind the position, washing clothes, visiting the towns near at hand, patroniz- ing the French and American canteens, making friends with neighbor- ing French soldiers, and at night gathering together to talk and sing away a very pleasant and healthy existence. An Algerian from the French howitzer battery afforded unending amusement. One night we tossed him in a blanket, to the immense gratification of his com- rades. He apparently considered himself an accomplished linguist, for he displayed his knowledge of English with self-conscious pride. The display, however, consisted of the words "Come on!" and a number of unhallowed phrases the expression of which seemed to give him huge satisfaction and which he employed on every occasion and in answer to every question put to him. The firing battery was the envy of those at the echelon, for the latter were not faring so well. The echelon was in charge of Second Lieutenant Armstrong, who had been temporarily attached to the battery due to our shortage of officers, and of Second Lieutenant Herschel C. Tritt, who had just graduated from the artillery school at Saumur. Heavy rains made life most uncomfortable for the men who were living in pup-tents, and during clear days aerial activity annoyed them continually. Gas alarms were frequent and were the more exasperating because they were always false. On the night of July 2ist one of the drivers, returning from the gun positions to the echelon, passed through Merviller and noticed that the inhabitants were wearing their gas-masks. Upon his arrival at the echelon he reported the fact and the gas klaxons blared out an alarm. All hastily adjusted gas-masks and helmets while Lieutenant Armstrong rode to Merviller to ascertain the extent of the alleged attack. It took him over an hour and a half to investigate the matter, and dur- ing that time the men were needlessly smothering in their masks. From sheer excitement and the closeness of the masks some few men vomited into the face-pieces, while others cried madly that they were :6i3 gassed. Some, unable to endure the suffocation further, prepared to die and took off their protectors, but even the fact that they continued to live was not sufficient proof to the others that there was no gas pres- ent, and when Lieutenant Armstrong returned to announce that masks might be removed, the majority were in a woebegone state of exhaustion. Our overcautiousness and ignorance of gas warfare appear ridiculous in the light of later experience, yet the affair was very vital at the time. We learned our lesson, and when, on the following night, a sentry from Battery "D" discharged his rifle, presumably as a gas alarm, better judgment was displayed, and panic did not rob us of reason, for tests were made and masks re- moved within a few minutes. Sergeant Ardiff at this time received his commission as a second lieutenant of infantry and left the battery. He was assigned, how- ever, not to an infantry unit, but to the 13th Field Artillery, a regi- ment which we later relieved at the Vesle. On the night of the 31st, the guns were withdrawn to the echelon. The move was made without mishap, save an injury to Corporal Stevens, gunner of the third piece. His heel was crushed under one of the wheels of the gun. He was removed to the hospital in Bac- carat, and did not rejoin the battery until August 28th. While mov- ing back, a few bombs exploded on adjoining hills, and on reaching Merviller a false gas alarm sounded. The guns arrived at Bois de Bouloy about i a.m. The next day, August ist, v/as employed in preparations for mov- ing. The blue bags containing surplus equipment, which we had carried with so much care from the States, were turned in and our personal equipment was reduced to what we could carry on our backs. With this reduction in baggage it looked as if we were bound for active campaigning, and rumors were strong and persistent that we were scheduled to relieve veteran divisions in the great drive at Chateau-Thierry, though the Italians in the battery clung delightedly to another report, that Italy would be our ultimate destination. The former assumption was strengthened when we began our march late in the evening, for, on the road to Baccarat, we met a continual stream of French artillery which had arrived from Chateau-Thierry to relieve us and win their well-earned rest in the quiet of Lorraine. The first night's march was slow and tedious. We drew into Bac- carat at midnight, were delayed almost two hours, and finally lum- bered on through Fontry and Douptail, arriving at last at Magnier about 7 A.M., August 2d. This was the first time we had ever engaged in an all-night hike, and it was unusually exhausting, since [62] we had not had the foresight to snatch a much-needed rest before the start. It meant some thirty hours without sleep, and this, coupled with the exertion of hiking, told severely on us. Those who were mounted awoke many times with a start to find that they had been sleeping in the saddle; those riding on caissons often lost conscious- ness despite the rumbling and lurchings of the springless vehicles which carried them; and those walking barely dragged their feet along. We established ourselves in a dense woods near Magnier, and after attending to the many details of watering and feeding the horses, stretching the picket-lines, and the host of other duties con- nected with encampment, we rolled in our blankets and slept until mess, at 5.30 p.m. We were prepared to move on at 9 o'clock, but it was 1 1 P.M. before we started on our second night of monotonous, tiresome hiking. We reached Loromentzey at 6.30 a.m. of August 3d, and here we remained until August 7th, not under the most enjoy- able circumstances. The pieces with caissons and wagons were lined along the edge of the road and acted as supports for the picket-line. Constant rains left the road extremely muddy, and, what with the mud, our own horses, which consumed half of the road space, and the continual traffic as other batteries led their horses to water, the way was well nigh impassable. It was in no pleasant humor that we stood on the mess line ankle-deep in mud, waiting to be served while pass- ing horses splashed and spattered clay all over us, or vainly sought to shelter ourselves from the rain by creeping into our pup-tents among the wet trees and dripping thickets beside the road. How- ever, our life was not all discomfort, for we enjoyed many visits to neighboring villages and were entertained by band concerts and vaudeville in an adjoining field. Rudolphi's songs and Sam Mitchell's "Army Blues" were always sufficient to revive our spirits under the most adverse circumstances. Furthermore, we were no longer on the front line, but were out of harm's reach, and, with the omnipresent masks and helmets discarded, we felt more free and easy. It was in this position that McKinley, who had been kicked by a stallion in Baccarat, was sent to the hospital for an X-ray diagnosis of a possible fracture of the ankle. He rejoined the battery in Au- gust on the Vesle. Before our departure Captain Dick and .Lieutenant O'Connor returned to the regiment from Camp de Souge. At 8.30 p.m., in the evening of August 7th, camp was broken, and after a short march until 1 1 p.m., we reached Bayon. As we approached the station we halted in the vicinity of a French canteen where we were able to obtain cheese sandwiches, hot cocoa, and coffee, all of which were eagerly welcomed by empty stomachs. We moved on beyond the railroad tracks for about a kilometer, and snatched two hours' sleep awaiting the arrival of our train. With a blazing fire by which to warm ourselves, a cup of coffee for refresh- ment (served by our own kitchen at the command of Lieutenant Reid), and those precious hours of sleep, we were ready at three o'clock to turn back to the railroad station and load ourselves and our materiel on the troop train. We left Bayon at exactly 6.30 in the morning, additionally refreshed by a few swallows of hot choco- late served by a Y. M. C. A. girl who passed along the platform and filled our extended mess-cups. The ensuing trip occupied a day and a night. Our route may be traced by the following towns — Charmes, 7.30 A.M.; Chatenois, 11.40 a.m.; Neufchateau, 12.30 p.m.; Bar-le- Duc, 6 p.m., and Coulommiers, where we detrained. There seemed to be much doubt whether we would be allowed to eat breakfast at H.T. r. '21 the station before resuming the march, but finally we were fortified with hash, bread, jam, and coffee. At 9.30 we started on our way, passed through Coulommiers, a town which seemed more flourishing than any we had seen for a long time, and continued about five kilometers beyond to a grain field on the left of the road, A space in the field was cleared of wheat stacks, and here the rolling stock was aligned with due regard to military uniformity. Tents were pitched under the shade of an apple orchard close at hand. Visits to near-by villages gave us opportunities to purchase eggs and enjoy a meal, while a stream flowing by a farm- house at the foot of the hill afforded a universal wash-up, which we sadly needed after our protracted confinement to dirty box-cars. An order received at 9 p.m., to move on the following morning at 4 A.M., was canceled almost immediately after its receipt. Iron rations were issued during the afternoon of August loth, preparatory to our moving that night. At 5 P.M. the march began, and save for one halt from 5.45 to 7.30 P.M., on the road near Les Ormes, we traveled the entire night, almost without interruption. We passed through Rebais about 8.30 P.M. The hike developed into a forced march. The horses were driven at an extremely fast pace and the men who were walking suffered proportionately. Lieutenant Reid did his utmost to relieve this hardship on the dismounted men by arranging to have every man get a fair share of riding on the caissons. He urged all mounted men to dismount at times and allow wearied stragglers to rest them- selves in the saddle, and it was no uncommon sight to see a buck private riding on the battery commander's horse. There were re- markably few stragglers when the battery arrived on the bank of the Marne River, and those who did fall back soon rejoined us at our place of encampment. The latter was a field about half a kilo- meter from the small village of Azy, one kilometer from Chezy-sur- Marne, and about seven kilometers from Chateau-Thierry. It was a beautiful clear Sunday, and after a few hours' sleep we enjoyed a swim in the Marne. A few hundred yards up the river lay a bridge, wrecked beyond use, with parts of its span hanging down into the water. Across the river an aeroplane, which had fallen the day be- fore, was buried nose down in a meadow. It had carried its Amer- ican pilot to his death. Beside our camping ground was the grave of an American soldier, buried where he fell. At 8.30 P.M. the march was resumed, and at Essomes, about 10.30 P.M., it was announced that because of congested traffic ahead there would be a halt of two hours. Always able to sleep at any time or 1:653 place, we rolled in our overcoats and slickers and lay down along the road. Essomes was more badly wrecked than any village we had seen and showed all the signs of the terrific fighting which had taken place not many days before. Battered houses and churches, the debris strewn about the streets, and the odor of decaying flesh brought the full import of the situation to our minds. Chateau-Thierry, through which we passed about 2 a.m., greeted us with even worse scenes of destruction. The town was deserted save for sentries walking post; the streets were cluttered with broken down barricades, an evidence of the hand-to-hand fighting which had taken place, and windows were boarded up; and the beautiful trees of the boulevard along which we passed showed the disastrous effects of shell-fire. The bright moonlight glistened on the Marne, disclosing in their gaunt- ness the destroyed bridges over the river and two pontoon-bridges floating at their anchors. Continuing a kilometer beyond Epieds, we encamped alongside a thin grove of trees on the flat top of a broad hill. The last few miles of the route had been made in the light of early morning, and signs of destructive warfare, which had escaped us in the darkness of night, were now revealed in full detail. Quantities of equipment, both American and German, were strewn all along the immediate vicinity of the road and in the gutters. Fox-holes and machine-gun emplace- ments, piles of ammunition, the graves of soldiers, hand-grenades, rifles, shell holes, and battered buildings, — these and a thousand other things showed us the hard path our fellow-countrymen had hewn for themselves in the face of a desperate enemy, and the recency of their swift conquests was brought home to us not only by this abandoned state of the surrounding country, but also by the nau- seating stench which occasionally swept to us on the gusts of the wind. Beyond Epieds some of us explored the neighboring woods to find even greater evidence of the battle, but the unbearable smell which clung there prohibited any extensive survey of the interior. At midnight the last stretch of the journey was commenced, and we continued through many towns which had been the scenes of much of the fiercest American fighting, Beuvardes, Fresnes, Cour- mont, Cierges, and Sergy, the last of which exchanged hands seven times between the opposing forces. We could not reach our destin- ation under cover of darkness, and for over two hours hiked in broad daylight under the very eyes of hostile observation. Indeed, the long serpentine line of the brigade, often extending from the crest of one hill over the top of another, must have presented a very pretty picture to our friends across the line, and in the early days of the [66] war, when German opposition was more stable, would have offered an easy and most enticing target for their efficient artillery. How- ever, the brigade rumbled slowly on without mishap, except that a false gas alarm was called because some facetious souvenir connois- seur of another battery set off a hand-grenade. At 9 a.m. we clattered down into Nesle, and wound up the steep hill to the Nesle woods be- yond. Here again we were greeted with abandoned German equip- ment, the same unsanitary remains of temporary occupation, and the same obnoxious odors. It was thought that it would be more healthy to have us pitch our tents in the open on the slope of the hill, and this was done, despite enemy observation. The guns and caissons were camouflaged on the edge of the woods and the kitchen was established. We rested during the entire day, although the drivers, as always, had their extra share of work watering and feeding their horses, and the cooks and K. P.'s must needs postpone their rest to provide for mess. At night active firing on the part of Allied guns, together with bombing on near-by hills by German planes, made matters very lively. This disturbance we met with extraordinary equanimity, but our tempers were soon entirely shattered by a rapid succession of six gas alarms. The first two were received by immediate adjustment of masks, both on ourselves and on the horses, but toward the third and fourth we became provoked, then coldly indifferent, and finally al- together disgusted with the over-anxious gas guards, who seemed to think that poison fumes might fall from every passing cloud. The alarms originated at some distance and spread with lightning rapid- ity over miles of territory, whether there was any shelling going on or not. These, and the other alarms with which we had been con- tinually afl[licted, contributed nothing to gas discipline, for we tended to disregard the blood-curdling admonitions which Captain Dick and others had given us while we were in training, by considering all alarms false. The day following our arrival was spent chiefly in cleaning up the materiel, grooming and caring for the tired horses, and policing the woods for the establishment of a permanent, habitable echelon. Lieutenant Reid, accompanied by Mongeon, went forward with the colonel and the major on reconnaissance for a position. Upon his return early in the evening, he told us about the activity of the hostile firing with which the party had come into dangerous contact, and we remember well our feelings when he said, "We are in for the real stuff this time," and laughingly cautioned us to make our wills. ]E were at last to have the opportunity, so long expected, of entering into active campaigning. The wondering uncertainty at the time of our induction, the long months of "child's play" at Camp Upton, the momen- tous interlude of our transatlantic voyage, the gruel- ling intensive training at Camp de Souge, the mild introduction to, and brief acquaintance with the peaceful, indeed delightful, warfare of the Lorraine sector, and the tedious trip from Baccarat to the Nesle woods, — all these were the mere prelude to the more important experiences which are still to be recounted. With our arrival at the Vesle sector we launched into the period of our greatest usefulness as a fighting unit, and that period, as we were to discover, extended over many weeks. According to reports, four enemy divisions were directly opposed to the Seventy-seventh on the sector assigned to it, that sector ex- tending from Mont Notre Dame, on the left, through Villesavoye in the direction of Fismes. On our left were French troops; on our right, the 28th Division. We relieved the American 4th Division and the French 62d Division, our battery taking the place of the 13th Field Artillery. On August 14th, the day after our arrival, unpleasant rumors were current that we might expect an air attack during the ensuing night, and as a precaution against such an emergency, orders were given to strike tents and move from the open, exposed hillside into the woods, where the trees and other obstacles might afford some slight degree of protection. Many, to avoid the overwhelming stench of the woods, slept along the edge of them under the wagons and guns, while others sought a rather strange means of safety by reclining under the caissons loaded with high-explosive shell. A number of men remained in the open, willing to brave any number of bombs rather than spend the night inhaling the effluvious odor of putrefying Germans that pervaded the woods. The expected attack materialized, but was chiefly directed against the village of Nesle, to the right rear of our encampment. While the bombs were not close enough to harm us. their flash and explosion seemed all too near for comfort, and the droning of the night-raider, unpleasantly invisible, accentuated our feeling of insecurity. On the morning of the 15th, Lieutenant Reid went forward to reconnoitre. He was accompanied by several men of the special detail, for the purpose of establishing a system of communication between the gun position, the P. C, Battery "B," and other points. Lieutenant Reid returned alone in the afternoon, and ordered the first, second, fifth, and sixth gun crews to move forward that night with guns number one and number two. It was determined not to advance by the main highways, for these were being constantly shelled, though, to be sure, all roads were receiving their share of explosives. The relief was conducted with no casualties so far as we were concerned, but the 13th Field Artillery suffered severe losses both in men and horses. Progress was slow, tedious, and nerve-racking, for the trip was made in the dark, over unfamiliar roads, with bombing planes hovering overhead. Several false gas alarms necessitated our halting to adjust our masks. Apparently the gas sentries were not trained to distinguish between klaxon alarms, which were signals for local attacks, signals not to be passed on, and other alarms, such as the Strombos horn, which were general, to be picked up and passed on by every guard within earshot. In consequence, many local alarms were relayed over large areas, to the unnecessary inconvenience of all and to the detriment of gas discipline. However, instruction and experience soon relieved the sentries of their unwarranted anxiety and overcautiousness, and eliminated much of the trouble. As the detachment rumbled slowly down a hill overlooking our future gun emplacements, we were the spectators of as lively an artillery duel as we were ever to witness. On all sides, as far as the eye could see, both heavy and light guns were roaring and spurting out tongues of flame. The din was terrific, and the flashes near at hand were momentarily blinding, while the whistle and crash of exploding shell added to the noise and excitement. Were we scared? We were ! We reached the position assigned to us about midnight. It was situated on the crest of a hill in a small orchard composed of a double row of trees, about twenty-five feet apart, which ran almost parallel to the front. Adjoining the orchard, and separated from it by a nar- row dirt road, was a large patch of woods containing many fox-holes and a few small shallow dugouts. Preparation for heaving the guns into position was begun immediately. Revetments for the trail spades [693 were dug and camouflage nets erected, while the caissons which had brought up ammunition were unloaded and their contents carried to the guns and camouflaged. With these matters attended to and all signs of our occupation of the position concealed, so far as possible, from enemy observation, we lay down at five o'clock in the morning for a few hours of well-earned sleep. In the late afternoon of the i6th the first and second pieces fired twenty rounds for adjustment, using a large quarry situated in the enemy lines at Paars as an adjustment point. That night the remain- ing four gun crews arrived with the other two howitzers. Day and night the Germans shelled the neighborhood. One eve- ning a shell landed on a powder dump of one of our batteries of 75's just ahead of us, and the sky was brilliantly lighted up by the result- ing fire. The Germans took particular interest in a battery of six-inch rifles located a hundred yards from us. The rifies were so well hidden that they defied discovery, and the desperate efforts made to find their exact location and to put them out of commission failed com- pletely. On the morning of the 17th, we witnessed an air fight be- tween two American ships and one German. The Americans were flying back from hostile territory and had reached a point a short distance to our rear when the German plane, soaring unnoticed far above them, suddenly swept down with terrific speed and opened fire. Both Americans were brought to earth, plunging, nose down, to land with tragic consequences. One made an almost successful eft'ort to right himself, but failed, and followed the other aviator to his death. Much of our time was spent in watching such proceedings as these, but we had plenty of work to keep us otherwise occupied — improve- ment of our inadequate dugouts, work on the guns, hauling am- munition, and the reinforcement of the P. C. dugout directly in rear of the guns. The last was occupied by the telephone men on duty, one of whom was always at the switchboard, night and day. Though constructed primarily for the battery commander, Lieutenant Reid slept in the open at the guns, while the rest of the battery lived in the adjoining woods. With the four guns we fired a second time for adjustment, again using the quarry as a target. We also entertained the Boche with a little harassing fire, but not for long. From beyond the hill in front of our position six sausage balloons were peering at us most in- quisitively, and shortly our shots were politely answered by a few scattered shell, some of which were quite plainly addressed to us. Firing was suspended at Lieutenant O'Connor's command, and then resumed. German aeroplanes were now flying near by, and there was some hesitation as to whether we should continue our operations. The few shell seemed to indicate a bracket, and since the aeroplanes appeared dangerously interested in us, we ceased firing and left the vicinity of the guns. Our caution was justified, for at evening mess hour (we thought that Germans would at least be considerate of our digestions) a bombardment commenced which, in its early stages, gave promise of annihilating the entire American army. We watched the shelling from a distance of fifty yards or so until one shell burst within thirty yards of the kitchen, at which our curiosity was sud- denly and fully satisfied. We made haste to seek cover and lay in the meager security of our shallow earthen defenses for half an hour while the shell rained around our guns a few yards away. As evidence attesting German mastery of the air, a Boche aeroplane with Allied markings circled overhead during the whole bombardment without any opposition whatsoever and successfully directed the fire against our emplacements. Fortunately no shell were sent into the woods, although one burst at their edge and wounded a horse which had subsequently to be shot. The guns fared worse, for number two was badly scratched and the first piece put completely out of action by a fragment which pierced the cradle and penetrated the recoil cylinder. Lieutenant Reid, returning from the echelon with Lieutenant Grahn and Rosenberg, noticed the bombardment from a distance, and was told by Captain Kirkpatrick at the first aid station that Battery "A" was being shelled. Turning over his horse to Rosen- berg with instructions to him and Lieutenant Grahn to seek cover. Lieutenant Reid started alone for the position on the run. Lieutenant Grahn immediately followed him, and regardless of personal danger, they joined the battery. The fire had slackened somewhat by the time they reached us, and ceased a few minutes later. Lieutenant Reid's first question was for the men. It was then that he said he never favored the position because, perched on the top of a hill, it was badly exposed. Superiors overruled, however, and possibly with good reason, since there were lamentably few adequate positions in the area assigned to our regiment. Orders were issued to strengthen our dugouts still further. At midnight all the pieces were withdrawn from the orchard and pulled along a side road, where they were safely hidden under the camouflage of trees and shrubbery. The problem arose as to where our next emplacement should be. On Sunday, August i8th, Lieuten- ant Reid made a reconnaissance. He rejected the forward edge of a patch of woods some three hundred yards to our rear as being a C70 positive invitation to destruction. This exact spot had been riddled with shell with disastrous effects to an outfit of engineers who had previously occupied it. Food, equipment, photographs, and letters, scattered about the place, were indicative of their hasty withdrawal, and the condition of the trees and the ground and the unbearable odor of half-buried horses gave evidence of the intensity of the fire which had driven them out. It was finally determined to lay the guns just outside the left rear edge of the wooded patch, as good a location as the area afforded, while the battery with the kitchen and P. C. occupied the woods themselves, despite the aforementioned drawbacks. In point of invisibility the gun emplacements were excellent, but the soil proved to be too soggy to sustain the recoil pressure. During the night our three available guns (number one had been sent to the mobile repair shop) were hauled down the road, across a field, and into their respective positions by way of a small, sturdy, log bridge which we constructed over a drainage ditch running across the front of the position. On the follov/ing day revetments v/ere built and reinforced with heavy logs. Mats, made of saplings fastened together, were constructed and placed under the wheels to prevent the heavy pieces from sinking into the marshy ground. We fired a few rounds and soon discovered that both revetments and mats were poor substitutes for hard soil and would give us unending trouble. These con- structions were, however, only a part of the difficulties we encoun- tered at this position. Indeed, our lives were made miserable by a chain of misfortunes which we can never forget, by an adversity of circumstances which leaves us exhausted even in the reminiscence of them, for, added to the constant labor of renovating the revet- ments with more logs and boulders and with innumerable sand-bags, filled in the woods and carried to the guns, we had a continual stream of ammunition to haul by hand, and to sustain us in our incessant work we were supplied with the poorest kind of rations, poor in quantity as well as quality. To carry sand-bags all day and am- munition half the night, and, after a few hours of unrefreshing sleep, to wake up to an unsavory breakfast of mouldy bread, weak coffee, and a dash of beans or bacon, was not a happy experience. Repeat- ing this schedule for several days in succession was enervating, to say the least. To turn adversity into calamity, we were unable to con- tinue the system of gun-crew shifts, whereby each crew got its share of rest, for the entire battery was needed to keep the unit in fighting trim. On August 19th the battery lost a popular officer in Lieutenant 1:72] Herschel C. Tritt, who had joined us at Baccarat. He had been trans- ferred to Battery "B," and on the same day was sent forward to the battalion observation post. The observation post consisted of a platform located in the upper branches of a tall tree at the base of which was a small dugout used to shelter those at the post who were not actually engaged in observing. A bad feature of the place was that it had been previously a German post, and, as such, was doubt- less plotted on German artillery maps to receive the careful future consideration of Boche guns. Fichtner and Warren went forward to do some carpentry work, while Major Dick and Lieutenant Grahn were with Lieutenant Tritt on observation duty. A battery of 75's to the rear of the post drew a good deal of fire in that direction, and because shell were bursting at close range, the men descended from the tree to seek cover in the dugout. As they climbed down, a shell exploded almost at the foot of the tree, and fragments struck Lieu- tenant Tritt, Kane, Fisk, Merritt, and Warren. Lieutenant Tritt was hit in the side just above his cartridge belt, and pitched into the arms of Mitchell, who held him until he could be carefully lowered to the ground. He lost consciousness immediately. An infantry doctor was summoned and gave him such treatment as he could, but the wound was deep and in a vital spot, and Lieutenant Tritt died soon after he was taken away in an ambulance. Kane (battalion detail) also died, and the others who were hit were sent to the hospital. Though Lieutenant Tritt, at the time of his death, was not, technically speaking, in Battery "A," yet virtually he was one of us, and we shall always feel his death as a direct loss to Battery "A." Many of us did not know him well, for he was assigned to echelon duty and seldom came to the gun emplacements, yet those of us who knew him at all were attracted by his cheerful nature, his ever-present smile, and the perfect consideration which he showed us all. We at once liked and respected him because he combined humaneness and discipline. It is a strange coincidence that, while talking to Lieuten- ant Reid before leaving for the post, he said, "Well, here's where I get mine." The news was a great shock to Lieutenant Reid. He kept saying over and over that he could hardly believe that Tritt was gone. Another casualty occurred about this time when Sorries, dispatched to the observation post with rations, was struck in the neck by a shell fragment. He was removed to the hospital with a wound which, though very serious, happily was not fatal. He rejoined the battery at Dancevoir after the armistice. [73;] Our chief accomplishment in this position was the shelling of the Tannerie situated near Fismes. The Tannerie concealed numerous machine-guns which had checkmated every effort of our infantry to advance and capture the place. The demolition of this hotbed of resistance was the task allotted to the 306th Field Artillery, the bombardment to occur between eight and nine in the evening of the 2 1 St, after which the infantry was to advance and occupy the spot. Lieutenant Reid personally directed the fire, and went from gun to gun, constantly satisfying himself that the operations were going smoothly. In the last few minutes of the hour he stood beside the telephone (back of the third piece), and when asked by the gun sergeants whether they should take time to swab the bore, he promptly called out through the darkness, 'Two minutes to go. Never mind the bore. Give 'em hell!" In the midst of the firing there occurred a combination of incidents which we cannot but think constituted our final undoing. A battery of the 1 19th Field Artillery, moving back from a forward position, decided to encamp on the back edge of our woods, and proceeded to ensconce themselves the more easily by using flash-lights and matches. We presently heard the uneven drone of a Boche plane, and suddenly a flare bomb, dropping next to our patch of woods, lit up the gun position and the ground surrounding it for a hundred yards with a light so bright that the Kaiser, sitting at his beer in Potsdam, must have thrown back his horns and roared with devilish laughter at the sight. Whether we have a right to blame the 1 19th Field Artillery for the disclosure of our position and the fierce bombardment which we sufi"ered on the following day, it is hard to say. The flash of our own guns undoubtedly contributed to the calamity, yet the bombardment, when it came, was directed against the woods and not against the emplacements. Our careless visitors were on the following day to regret their own thoughtlessness as much as did we. We need no printed pages to recall the appalling events of August 22d, but this history would be sadly incomplete did it not include an account of the tragic culmination of our experiences in this position. During the early morning the battery fired a short mission, and immediately thereafter set to work repairing the wrecked revet- ments. While engaging in this latter task, the fourth gun crew were suddenly surprised by the swift whine of a 77, which landed in the boggy ground not ten yards to the rear of the fourth piece, the missile sinking well into the soft soil and exploding with a harmless shower of mud. Another shell burst to the right rear of number two, and a :74:] pravr A^:^ "^^^t:"^ W^.^^.-- ^ HB pp