The Great St. Mihiel Drive
It was exactly at 12:01 o'clock on the morning of September 12th, when
the great St. Mihiel drive began, and when all the preparation of
which I told in the preceding chapter was brought into play in the
first great independent movement of American troops, which was to give
the Germans a warning of what they were to expect from the army from
across the seas, of which they had so sneeringly spoken. The drive
opened with a demoralizing barrage, the greatest of the kind that, up
to that time, had ever been laid down by artillery. It greatly
exceeded in the number of guns brought into action and in amount of
ammunition used, any barrage that either the Germans or the Allies
had, prior to that time, attempted. It was like letting hell loose
upon the Germans in the salient at all points within the range of our
guns. Language is inadequate to describe this barrage and none except
those who were actual participants in the drive will be able to
visualize in the mind the terror that General Pershing's guns belched
forth on that momentous occasion. Those who have imaginative minds may
be able to form some faint conception of what this great battle was
like, if they can picture thousands of guns--heavy, medium and
light--belching forth their fire with ceaseless regularity for six
long hours. It was pitch dark when the first guns opened with their
roar, but it was not long before the heavens were lighted with a
brilliant pyrotechnic display, something like elaborate Fourth of July
fireworks, but multiplied by millions in intensity. The heavy
artillery spit forth long flames as they were discharged. The long
flash, the rapidity with which it is dashed from the gun muzzle, and
its sudden disappearance, reminded me of a serpent's tongue. And
serpents' tongues they were, indeed, to German hopes, for as sure as
these are facts, the St. Mihiel drive sealed the doom of the despised
Huns. As far as the eye could see, these flashes were being repeated
at stated intervals, and in front of them were the smaller and more
rapid flashes of the medium artillery; and adding their flame, smoke
and noise to the din far out in front was the famous light artillery,
which did such effective work throughout the war.
It was not long after the barrage began before the Germans began to
throw star shells. These were for the purpose of lighting up No Man's
Land. They are thrown to a height of several hundred feet, and as they
slowly descend, they burn a brilliant white light. These added to the
brilliancy of the fireworks. The object of the Germans in throwing
these star shells was to keep No Man's Land lighted so as to be ready
to repel our attack. They knew, of course, that our barrage was to be
followed up with a charge, but they did not know at what hour it was
to be launched. The star shells were thrown so that they could not be
taken unawares in the dark.
Far behind the line in Fritz' territory we could see our shells
bursting. The telltale flash meant that the Huns were getting a dose
of severe medicine, though we could at that moment only guess at the
destruction that was being wrought. Later we were to see the havoc
worked by our accurate artillerymen.
The object of this demoralizing barrage was to break up the morale of
the Germans and in general to pave the way for our infantry charge
that was to follow. It shattered the German trenches, plowed through
their barbed wire entanglements and kept those who survived in a state
of great nervous tension, because they knew a great charge was to
follow. Our guns were also trained on such objects as headquarters,
railroads, heavy artillery emplacements, cross roads, ammunition
dumps, aviation hangars, etc., from information that had previously
been obtained by the Flash and Sound Ranging sections. The heavy
artillery did great damage far in the rear. The medium artillery, not
having the range of the heavy guns, did not reach so far back with its
fire, but demoralized things generally wherever its shells hit. It
also had for its purpose the breaking up of any attack that might be
planned as a counter offensive. The light artillery is of smaller
caliber and fires more rapidly. This did wonderful execution and was a
great help in winning the war.
It was exactly 6 o'clock when the demoralizing barrage stopped, and it
was followed by a protecting barrage. There is quite a difference
between a demoralizing barrage and a protecting barrage. A
demoralizing barrage is just what its name signifies, a demoralizing
rain of shells upon the enemy. A protecting barrage is for the purpose
of protecting the infantry as it charges into the enemy's lines and it
is raised slowly as the infantry advances so as to keep over the heads
of the marching soldiers. As soon as the protecting barrage was fired
in this drive, the first waves of infantry went over the top.
Most people have a misconception of what going over the top is. The
prevailing idea is that a great mass of troops rush over the top and
into the German trenches. What really occurs is this: The men climb
out of the trenches at an ordinary pace in a thin line from six to ten
feet apart. This is followed in a few seconds by another thin line
about the same distance apart, and then another, and so on until there
are thousands of men advancing over No Man's Land, but they are
scattered over a large area. The object in scattering them is to
reduce losses in case an enemy shell falls among them. I have seen a
shell fall among men advancing this way without hitting any of them,
and I have also seen several fall from a single shell. Another reason
for these thin waves is the fact that when advancing in this formation
the men offer a poorer target to the machine guns of the enemy, while
in mass formation, a machine gun could mow down in a short time a
whole company.
Just ahead of the waves of infantry in this drive, wiggled the tanks.
These cumbersome, awkward, ugly but efficient machines were of great
help to the foot soldiers. They not only made a path through the
barbed wire entanglements that the artillery had not destroyed, but
they hunted out and destroyed German machine gun nests, which were so
dangerous to the infantry. The tanks had a very difficult task and
they performed it well. Too much credit cannot be given to the tank
crews. They were brave, skillful and good fighters. It is true they
were in a measure protected behind the steel walls of the machine,
but, on the other hand, they were exposed to heavy fire, it was hot
and disagreeable within and in case of being struck by a shell or
running onto a mine, the horrors were worse than those to which other
fighters were exposed. The greatest danger was that of being trapped
within and burned to death in case a shell hits the gasoline tank; a
number were destroyed in that manner. So I give full credit to the
tank men for their heroic services--they braced the greatest dangers
without knowing such a word as "fear."
As our boys went over the top they were given the protection of an
aerial squadron. Only those who were advancing toward the Hun lines on
that day, with full realization of their duties and their dangers,
know what a feeling of protection these hovering planes gave us. They
flew low, frequently just over the heads of the men, and poured their
deadly machine gun fire into such of the Hun trenches as the artillery
had not destroyed--and, no matter how thoroughly the artillery does
its work, there is always plenty left for the other branches of the
army to do. These daring airmen also dropped fishtail bombs on the
Huns. These men were the bravest of the brave. They had the courage,
grit and combative qualities of the lion. They are constantly in great
danger. They are fired upon from below by enemy anti-aircraft guns,
and frequently from above by enemy planes. They are also exposed, when
they fly low, to rifle fire and machine guns and machines are
frequently brought down by such fire. During a drive of this kind they
also face the danger of running into their own barrage and are
restricted as to the area in which they may manoeuver. We cannot give
these fearless men of the flying corps too much praise for their work.
While men in all branches of the American army were brave and all did
their duty, I think the airmen, like the tank men, deserve a special
meed of praise for their daring, and when I say this, I intend in no
way to detract from the bravery of the men in any other branch of the
service.
The Flash Service, to which I belonged, was not a fighting unit. While
we were heavily armed, so that we could defend ourselves and fight if
necessary, we were not, in the strict sense of the word, combatants.
It was more important for us to keep the lines of communication in
working order, to give the artillery the range on certain objects, to
locate machine gun nests and direct fire upon them so they could be
destroyed, than to fight, for there were sufficient numbers in other
branches of the army for that purpose. But we did not overlook an
opportunity to help our cause, and it is with a great deal of pleasure
that I tell of a machine gun nest of thirteen men captured by three of
the men of our detachment, though of a different post from mine. It
was during the early morning of the first day of the drive. It should
be stated that the American infantry advanced so rapidly that it
frequently went right by carefully concealed machine gun nests. This
was just what the Germans wanted them to do, because they opened fire
from the rear and rained bullets on our men from two sides. The three
men that captured the nest of which I am telling were just in back of
the second wave of infantry that went over the top, following it up
for the purpose of establishing our line of communication from front
to rear. They came upon this nest as the Huns were preparing to fire
at our advancing men. When they first located the nest the Americans
had their revolvers carefully wrapped in greased coils and in their
holsters, not expecting to use them--the greased coils being to keep
the weapons from rusting from the dampness of the trenches. These
resourceful American boys lost no time, however, in getting their
weapons ready for use, and by a quick and intrepid manoeuver, they
approached the Huns, covered them with their revolvers, and compelled
them to surrender without so much as firing a shot. The Huns were
taken to the rear, and their gun, a Vicker, became a trophy of war.
It was about 9 o'clock in the morning while we were advancing that I
came upon a petite French tank, which had run upon a Hun mine and had
been completely destroyed. The machine was reduced to a pile of junk,
and it was hardly believable that a mine would work such destruction.
The heavy iron was torn in shreds, and while we knew it was a tank and
we knew what had happened to it, it was now nothing but scrap iron.
Just about that time the infantry was capturing thousands of Hun
prisoners--men who had occupied the front German trenches and who were
overcome by our boys. As I was advancing, I saw 3,700 German prisoners
marching to the rear, and as it was still early in the day, you may
know with what thoroughness our boys were doing their work. Among
these prisoners was a German officer who knew the location of the
mines that had been planted to destroy tanks, bridges, roads, etc. The
Americans were not long in learning this and they compelled him to
point out these locations. Under his guidance, 52 mines were
destroyed. These might have done great damage to American tanks and
soldiers if they had not been set off. As it was, they opened a
pathway through which our tanks passed without danger.
As we went forward into the territory that had been held by the Huns,
we could see the results of our own work, that is to say, we could see
objects upon which we had given the range to the artillery, completely
destroyed. It was gratifying to note that our work and the work of the
artillery had been so accurate. Objects, such as headquarters,
railroad tracks, cross roads, that we had located through our strong
glasses before the drive, and upon which we had given the distance to
the gunners, had been shattered by direct hits, speaking wonders for
the marksmanship of the American gunners. At some places we saw scores
of men and animals that had been killed by shell fire; at others we
saw trenches that had been as completely wiped out as though they
never existed; we also saw ammunition dumps that had been hit and set
afire and which burned steadily for several days. These were
exceedingly dangerous places, and we kept a good distance from them
until they burned completely out, as the exploding shells threw flying
metal for a distance of a hundred yards or more. We also came across
railroad trains that had been hit as they were proceeding, and so
badly crippled that they had to be abandoned by the enemy, later to be
captured by us.
We advanced about ten kilometers the first day, and then our men were
directed to dig in. Here we met with our first real resistance. The
enemy counter attacked during the night, but his charges were finally
broken up by our accurate fire.
Our advance that day had been rapid and had penetrated deeply into the
enemy line. This had been possible because of the rapidity with which
our supplies had been brought up. The roads for the most part were not
badly cut up, and those that were damaged were quickly repaired by our
engineers. Bridges had been hastily built, obstructions removed from
highways, and shell holes filled in so that traffic could go on almost
uninterruptedly. This made it possible for all necessary munitions to
move forward.
One thing that was annoying to our advance was the German "pill boxes"
in which machine gunners were placed. These pill boxes were of
concrete. They were round and flat, a few square, and took their name
because of their resemblance to a pill box. They had slits about six
inches wide and eighteen inches long in the concrete through which the
Huns fired their machine guns at our troops. Our most effective weapon
against these pill boxes was our one pounders. They fired a small
shell directly at the box and continued to fire until they got the
range of the slit. The shells would then penetrate the slit and hit
the other side of the box, exploding when they did so, and killing or
wounding the occupants. Once the range was obtained, our gunners kept
pouring in these shells until there was no longer any fear that the
Fritz soldiers in that box would harm any more Americans. Our boys put
many of these pill boxes out of commission with big loss to the enemy.
They made duty in a pill box certain death for the Huns when any
Americans were around.
We spent a rather restless night after our first day's advance. Though
we had marched many miles and were mentally and physically fatigued,
it was not easy to sleep. We were in constant danger of counter attack
and of being shelled by the enemy, and the sensation was not pleasant.
Early in the morning of September 13th, the second day of the drive,
we advanced again in the gray of the early dawn. It was between 8 and
9 o'clock on this morning that I saw a great aerial fight in which
probably thirty-five and perhaps forty machines participated. We had
advanced so far the first day that the Germans sent their aircraft out
in numbers on the second day to look at the territory that had been
lost. Our men were ready for them. It was the most thrilling sight I
ever witnessed, and I cannot imagine anything more sensational. At
first these machines were very high in the air, perhaps ten thousand
feet, for they were mere specks in the sky to the natural vision. It
was wonderful to see them manoeuvering for positions of advantage.
They twisted, turned, looped and dove. At times two or three would be
very close together and then again they would separate. Little white
puffs of smoke told the tale that the machine guns were in action.
They reminded me of bees swarming, as they buzzed and circled around
each other in the air. As they fought they descended, coming nearer to
earth and thus plainer to our vision. Suddenly one dropped out of the
ranks, a struck machine. We knew it was permanently out of commission
the minute it started to fall, for it dropped like a dead bird. It was
a Hun machine and it dropped close to where I was located, so close in
fact that within a few minutes I was inspecting it and taking small
souvenirs to send home from its collapsed wings. Then another dropped,
but it fell far from where we were located and its descent was so
swift that we could not see its insignia and were unable to tell
whether or not it was a Hun machine. Then one came down wounded, but
still able to fly. It was an American machine, for it sought refuge in
back of our lines. And so the fight continued for a few minutes--it
did not last long--until a total of eight machines dropped and several
others flew away wounded. Just what percentage of Hun and Allied
planes fell, I was never able to ascertain, but the best evidence that
the majority of them were Hun machines was the fact that the remaining
enemy planes soon departed from the aerial battle field, leaving the
Allied planes in complete control. The Allied fleet of planes in this
fight was composed mostly of Americans, though our airmen were aided
by a couple of British and a couple of French machines.
We continued our advance throughout the second day, though we did not
proceed as rapidly as on the first day. This was because the roads
were in poorer condition and supplies could not be so rapidly moved
forward and for the further reason that the country was more wooded
and offered Fritz a better opportunity for defense. Our boys were
counter-attacked on several occasions, but each time they sent the
Huns flying to the rear with heavy losses. In hand to hand fighting,
such as often resulted when counter attacks were lodged, the Germans
were no match for the Americans, who seemed to excel in close work
which required bravery, skill and dash. In fact, it was in this kind
of work that our boys showed Fritz what we mean in America by "punch."
On the third day we advanced as far as Thiacourt, which was our
objective. On this day we also met with stubborn resistance. It was
here that we encountered many pill boxes and it required considerable
difficult and accurate work to put them out of business.
It was on the night of September 15th that we saw our hardest
fighting, and were given a taste of how hard Germans could fight when
pressed. It was on this night that our losses were the heaviest of the
drive.
My post was dug in on a ridge that was occupied by a detachment of
incomparable fighters--the Marines. The ridge was only about 500 yards
in length. The roads being in bad condition, we were unable to get the
protection of any artillery. All that we had to keep Fritz at bay on
this ridge was about forty machine guns, which were no match for the
heavy shells that the Huns were pouring on us, having our range to a
nicety. We were in what is known as "graves," or shallow trenches, not
having had time to dig deep trenches or to strengthen our positions as
we were constantly under fire. But these Marines laid down a machine
gun barrage, the first that I had ever seen. They kept up the fire all
night and thus held Fritz away. It was a tense period. Hun shells were
dropping all around us and frequently right among us, but the machine
guns never ceased their excellent defensive work. When day broke, and
the Hun ceased firing, only seventeen of these machine guns and their
crews were in condition to fight. Twenty-three of them had been
destroyed by the German artillery. It was a sad sight that met our
eyes the morning when we saw the losses that we had suffered during
the night.
It was on the night of the fourth day of the drive that fresh men were
brought up, and those of us who had been out in front during the drive
were relieved. It was, indeed, a great relief. It permitted us to
relax our bodies and minds after four days of steady strain, with no
more food than was sufficient to sustain us and without rest during
the entire time. We were grateful to be away for a short time from the
devastating fire that the Huns were pouring into our front line
trenches in an endeavor to check a further penetration into their
lines, but we were still under shell fire.
We were taken a short distance to the rear, where we were billeted in
German dugouts. The day before these had been occupied by German
officers. They were elaborately fitted up with all things necessary
for luxury and comfort, such as beds, bathtubs, electric lights, etc.
It was here, seemingly as a reward for my small services in the great
fight, that I met my friend and companion, McKinley Johnston, of
Sacramento. Nothing could have pleased me more for McKinley Johnston
is like a brother to me, having been my companion since boyhood. It
was with him that I had talked of enlisting long before I volunteered,
and it was he who enlisted with me. Though we became soldiers together
and entered the same company, the fortunes of war separated us in
France, and united us at a moment that was most gratifying to us both.
We sat down together and related our experiences. He was driving a
truck, and from him I learned of remarkable escapes that he had had
from death during the four days of the drive. On one occasion a Hun
shell, sufficient in size to have blown him to atoms, lodged in his
truck among supplies and failed to explode. I saw the shell myself,
also saw the hole in the top of the truck through which it passed and
can vouch for the truthfulness of the story. On another occasion a
shrapnel shell exploded on the road just to the right of his truck.
When it burst, it sent small pieces of metal flying in all directions.
About twenty-five or thirty of these passed through his truck, but not
one struck him. I saw the holes they made. The motor of the truck was
not as fortunate as the driver. A number of the pieces passed through
the hood and lodged in the engine. It was damaged considerably, but it
still ran and McKinley was able to complete his trip. I marveled at
these stories because they concerned a young man of whom I am very
fond, but escapes of this kind were numerous in these days and almost
every soldier who passed through the drive can truthfully tell of
similar escapes. We were facing death all the time and the remarkable
thing is that so many of us did pass through the drive and come out
alive.