ON THE MOVE
"Over there" excitement was the normal condition, and the real soldier
was never satisfied unless he was in the thick of the fight. Even
"holding the line" on the Alsatian border was tame, and the news of
Chateau-Thierry made the Ohio boys "green with envy." Their more
fortunate guard comrades of the 26th and 42nd Divisions had covered
themselves with glory. Where would the next American blow be struck?
"Anything doing up at the front?" was the first question shot at every
dispatch rider or truck driver who came "along the pike" from the
north. "The whole d---- country is full of Yanks!" "Ten divisions
packed in between Toul and Nancy." "Never saw so much ammunition in
my life." "Couldn't get through for the traffic." Such reports kept
the boys of the 37th on tiptoe of expectation. Would they get a chance
for the "big push"?
Imagine, therefore, the peculiar thrill of every man when about
September 11, it was announced officially that the division was to be
ready for an immediate move. The boys were to be "stripped" for
action. Every unnecessary thing was thrown into the salvage pile.
Military trains were placed on the sidings in the railway yards at
Baccarat to be loaded with men, horses, and equipment. These trains to
move off on schedule time, about two hours apart, until the last had
taken its departure.
For two nights steady streams of French troops, ammunition wagons,
guns, and army trucks had poured into Baccarat on their way to relieve
the various units of the Ohio Division. Four horses, two abreast,
would be hitched to an artillery wagon on which was mounted a
camouflaged '75 (three-inch gun). The heavy guns were drawn by six or
eight horses, two abreast, with a rider for every two horses.
The Y.M.C.A. headquarters were on the corner where the two main
streets of the town crossed. One night about ten o'clock we stood on
the curb watching two lines of men and wagons, one from the south and
one from the west, as they came together at this corner and flowed on
through the town. It was a fascinating and weird night scene. Suddenly
we heard a Boche plane. When it passed overhead it dropped a star
shell which lighted up that whole section of the town and revealed the
long lines of French infantry and artillery. The burned out shell
dropped just across the street from us. Evidently, German spies had
given notice of the movements of troops and scouting planes had come
over to get information and take pictures. These were closely followed
by bombing planes which tried to destroy the bridge over the Meurthe
and thus hinder the movement of troops, but their bombs went wide of
their mark and our anti-aircraft guns made it so hot for them that
they could not get near enough to do any material damage.
Many Chinese troops in French uniforms passed through Baccarat the
next day. With military precision our boys, relieved by these French
and Chinese troops, poured into the town and were quickly loaded on
the troop trains.
Three days before the move a secret order had come to the chief of our
"Y" division to be ready to move with the troops. Immediately all our
secretaries were notified to close their huts and prepare their stock
for removal. "Y" trucks were dispatched to bring the secretaries and
all stock on hand in to the central warehouse. Where the hut was a
tent--and four of the seventeen huts were canvas--our expert, who had
traveled for years with Barnum & Bailey, went with the trucks and
brought in tent and all.
The army, desiring to have the "Y" supplies and men at the front with
the boys, put one or two cars on each train at our disposal. For
twenty-four hours without let up the "Y" trucks, manned by a score or
more of secretaries, rushed boxes of chocolate, cakes, raisins, cocoa,
cigarettes, tobacco, matches, and other supplies essential to the
comfort of the boys, from the warehouse to the trains.
It was an exciting game to have each car loaded when the signal to
move was given. Sometimes it was a close shave, as, for instance, when
our car on one train having been loaded we were offered a second car
which was accepted. We worked feverishly to get it ready for the move.
It was half filled--only ten minutes remained before the train was to
leave. Our big French truck was being loaded at the warehouse as fast
as willing hands could throw the boxes on. Word was dispatched to rush
the truck to the train--it arrived in three minutes. The train was
being shifted ready for the move. Our expert driver (a racing pilot in
the States) was game, and followed the train, stopping where it
stopped, while the boxes fairly flew from truck to car.
Finally the French train officials ordered our truck away that the
train might pull out. Our manager said, "Un minute, s'il vous plait,"
while the boxes continued to fly. The Frenchmen, becoming excited,
waved their arms and cursed and threatened in their own tongue. What
we could not understand did not frighten us, and the merry chase
continued until, in spite of our interference, the train began to
move, and with a few parting shots at the still open door, our men in
the car placed them as best they could, closed the door and swung from
the moving train.
It was great sport, and to hear the cheers of approval from our boys,
for whom all this energy was being expended, was ample reward for our
fatigue and loss of sleep.
The movement of troop trains was always a special target for Boche
bombing planes, and several times during the night Fritz tried to
"get" us. Each time, however, he was successfully driven off by our
anti-aircraft and machine guns. Whenever we heard the planes overhead
and shrapnel began to burst around us, we would scurry to cover
underneath the cars, which gave us protection from the falling pieces
of shrapnel and the machine-gun bullets.
Troop trains had a never waning interest for civilian and soldier
alike. The French freight cars are about half the size of our American
cars. The box cars were filled with horses and men. The horses were
led up a gangplank to the door in the center of the car and backed
toward each end of the car with their heads facing each other. Four
horses abreast, making eight in the car, completely filled it, leaving
only a four-foot alleyway between them, where the men in charge of
the horses made themselves as comfortable as circumstances permitted.
Sometimes the men were crowded so tight into the cars that they could
neither sit nor lie down. Usually, however, they had more room, and in
every open doorway they sat with their feet hanging outside. A jollier
bunch of fellows never donned uniform.
[Illustration: GERMAN AERIAL BOMB (Large)]
The flat-cars were loaded with gun carriages, ammunition wagons, and
field kitchens. On one car of every train were three mounted machine
guns with their crews, in readiness for any daring Boche plane that
might swoop down on them. Most of the trains that traveled by day were
camouflaged with branches of green leaves broken from trees or bushes.
When the last train had departed at three o'clock in the morning, we
had a jollification banquet of canned fruit and fish with bread and
coffee, first having gone in noisy procession through all the
sleeping quarters and routed out all who were snatching a "wink of
sleep."
On the day previous Armstrong went ahead with two of our canteen
workers, O'Connor and Baldwin, and a camionette load of supplies and
cocoa and set up a temporary canteen, ready to welcome the troops when
they arrived at Ravigny. Dr. Anderson in the Ford Sedan also went
ahead to choose suitable headquarters and a warehouse in which to
store our fifteen carloads of supplies.
A "Y" MOTOR CONVOY
At eleven in the forenoon, after spending the morning packing and
loading, our convoy started. All drivers knew the route to Ravigny, to
which point all troop trains had been dispatched under sealed orders.
First in line were our pilots in an Indian motorcycle and sidecar.
They carried our official passes which they presented to each guard en
route. Then after all had passed they proceeded to the next guard.
Second in line was a Ford touring car with our chief of transportation
and other officials. Next came a camionette loaded with food supplies
and cooking equipment, and after it the Renault truck (the writer
driving) loaded with office supplies, cash boxes, and personal
baggage. Last of all was a big three-ton truck with a miscellaneous
load and trailing a small truck loaded with garage tools. This was our
traveling repair shop in charge of our mechanician. The rest of the
staff with their personal baggage went by train.
Ravigny is a small town but an important railroad center from which
troop trains were re-routed to various points on the front line. Our
division was ordered to proceed to Riccicourt, a deserted and partly
destroyed village about twelve miles west of Verdun and about five
miles south of Avoncourt, where our boys went "over the top." The
women canteen workers, much to their disappointment, were ordered by
the colonel to remain at Ravigny, where they could get accommodations
and be saved the danger and distress of the battlefield.
At Riccicourt officers and men were billeted in every building that
afforded any protection from wind or rain. The mass of troops,
however, were on the move and bivouacked or quickly set up their
dog-tents, wherever the order to "fall out" was given. Every road
leading to Avoncourt was filled with the motor transportation of many
divisions. Heavy rains at times made the roads impassable, but in some
way traffic was maintained.
The Y.M.C.A. workers with the 37th Division were the first on the
field. They were the farthest advanced; they had the largest stock of
supplies and the most workers of any organization in that sector at
the beginning of the drive. From this center a supply station was
established at Avoncourt, where hot chocolate was served day and
night to the men as they were going to and from the line of battle.
Hot chocolate and supplies in large quantities were also furnished
free to the field-hospitals.
All secretaries who could possibly be spared were dispatched with
packs on their backs, bulging with chocolate and tobacco for the men
actually on the firing line. As these secretaries trudged past the
long lines of soldiers waiting to "go into action" they would be
greeted with a chorus of "Three cheers for the 'Y'"--"You can't lose
the Y Men," etc.
When in answer to the requests, "Can't you sell us a cake of chocolate
or a pack of Camels?" it was explained, "We can't carry enough for
all, and these are for the wounded and the men on the firing line,"
there came invariably the enthusiastic reply, "That's right--they need
it more than we do."