_1st Division, 28th Infantry, Company “C”_
Cited for extraordinary heroism in action. When south of Soissons,
July 18-22, 1918, as a member of the 1st Division he showed unusual
courage in carrying supplies and in attacking strong points at Breuil,
Plaisy, and Berzy-le-Sec.]
“A devilish howling rises hoarsely from over there, lacerating,
bestial, shrieking! The blacks, the devils! How did they reach our
flank over there? That’s where our machine guns are. It cannot be.
There! Hell! They are carrying hand grenades, are in their rear! Heaven
help us! And the whites! They are at our breastworks. Already they are
in the trenches, fighting like wild beasts. Horror makes them crazy.
Help is coming to us from the left. The second company has fallen upon
their flank. The French run like hunted animals. A shell bursts in
their midst, catches twenty or thirty of them and throws them in the
air like toys. They run still further, through the air, bowling along
on their heads, gruesomely—and fall in heaps to the ground. Heads,
legs, twitching bodies! The French run until back of the bodies. The
rest of them are cut to pieces, or made prisoners. But now our men must
come back.
“We struggle for breath. Wounded men writhe around and moan and groan
heavily. The trench is bathed in blood. Far more than half of the
company has been slain. We are only a handful. I assemble the valiant
men and distribute them among the trenches. They stand resolutely,
breathing hard and gasping.
“A furious rattling and buzzing and hissing calls us again to our
posts. They are charging anew. Now the whites again, in front, on the
side. They are on our flank! Back of them the blacks in frightful
clusters. ‘Bring the sandbags!’ The sandbags fly from hand to hand.
A wall rises in the midst of the trench. The other half was overrun
long ago and is a knot of struggling men. A piece of wood hits me
on the shoulder—crack—I cry out! A shot lands in the midst of our
ammunition—it was our last. This way with the hand grenades! We have
got to smoke them out!
“A roaring hurrah! Heaven help us, aid is at hand! The Fourth, and the
Fifth—I know the men—and some of the First, too—all mixed up—dispersed
troops rallied again. Now, up and at them! The French defend themselves
furiously. They hold the trench. The dead are heaped up before their
ramparts—but keep it up! A wild passion takes possession of me. My
revolver and my dagger have been lost in the fighting. I seize a
bottle. Hell sends it to me at the right moment. Like an animal mad
with hate I rush forward. My bottle lands, crashing and splintering,
on a wooly skull, with a distorted grimace. A hot shock rushes through
my shoulder—a shock—a wrench—I grasp at the air—grasp something
convulsively—throw myself in the air—and fall in a heap. A confused
mist dances before my eyes.”
On November 11, 1918. the American Army had 80 fully equipped
hospitals in the United States with a capacity of 120,000 patients.
There were 104 base hospitals and 31 evacuation hospitals in the
American Expeditionary Force, and one evacuation hospital in Siberia.
Army hospitals in the United States cared for 1,407,191 patients
during the war; those with the American Expeditionary Force cared for
755,354—a total of 2,162,545.
Up to the end of July about 15 per cent, of the entire civilian
medical profession of the United States went into active duty as
medical officers of the army.