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BATTERY E
IN FRANCE
149th Field Artillery
Rainbow (42nd) Division
By
FREDERIC R. KILNER
CHICAGO
1919
Copyright, 1919
by
FREDERIC R. KILNER
As we shall the more devote ourselves, in peace and in war, to the cause
of our Country's honor because they gave up their lives for its sake, so
do we dedicate this record to them, the memory and the loss of whom its
pages recall:
CAPTAIN FREDERICK W. WATERS
Coblenz, Germany, January 13, 1919
LIEUTENANT JOHN E. COWAN
Jonchery-sur-Suippes, France, July 17, 1918
CORPORAL STANLEY S. STEVENS
Camp Coetquidan, France, November 21, 1917
PRIVATE GUY O. FOSTER
Fere-en-Tardenois, France, August 10, 1918
PRIVATE GEORGE HAMA
Bulson, France, November 9, 1918
PRIVATE AARON F. PARKHURST
Chery-Chartreuse, France, August 8, 1918
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Since a battery comprises nearly two hundred men, and includes
activities of diverse kinds at different places, it is obviously
impossible for a brief narrative such as this, compiled by a single
person, to furnish complete details on all of them. To suggest the life
of the men in their various sorts of work, to trace as accurately as
possible the accomplishments of the battery on the front in France, and
to recount the outstanding incidents and events of its history, is as
much as can be claimed for these chapters. Primarily intended for the
members of the battery, these pages will, I hope, furnish an outline on
which each one can reconstruct the days of his own experiences in France
from the voluminous resources of his memory. To that end, dates and
places are indicated fully, and pains have been taken to have these
accurate and exact.
To Lloyd Holton, Stuart Lawrence, Waldo Magnusen, Harry E. Loomis, Jr.,
and Harland Beatty thanks are due for the photographs supplying the
interesting illustrations, which tell better than many words how the men
of the battery lived. The meagreness of the illustrations is due to the
army order forbidding cameras being taken to the front. We regret that
this order was in rare instances violated, but are glad to be able to
publish the photographs which resulted from such violations.
This book itself is a lasting indication of the gratitude of the men of
the battery to the relatives and friends included in the Battery E
chapter of the 149th F. A. War Relief, from whom came the funds for the
publication of this volume. The acknowledgement of this generosity is
made with the recollection of many previous kindnesses, so numerous,
indeed, that an adequate appreciation of the services and sacrifices of
those at home is impossible to express.
PREFACE
Battery E of the First Field Artillery of the Illinois National Guard
was organized at Chicago, October 23, 1915, Captain Henry J. Reilly in
command. On June 27, 1916, it was mustered into federal service for duty
on the Mexican border, and mustered out October 28, 1916, after training
at Leon Springs, Arkansas, and taking part in the famous "Austin Hike."
The battery met for drill at the Dexter Pavilion, Union Stock Yards,
Chicago, on Monday nights.
After the United States declared war, April 6, 1917, the battery began
recruiting to bring its strength up to war basis, and drilled Monday and
Friday evenings. Sergeants Herman Leprohon and Thomas Atkinson, of the
Regular Army, who directed the drill at this time, were commissioned
first lieutenants in the regiment before it left Chicago. May 22 Paul E.
Landrus was appointed First Sergeant, John J. O'Meara, Supply Sergeant,
and F. O. Johnson, Stable Sergeant.
Governor Lowden ordered the battery into service June 30, 1917, when
drill became daily. July 9, the battery entrained for Fort Sheridan with
its 30 horses, guns, caissons and supplies. First Lieutenant Irving
Odell was in command, Captain Reilly having become colonel of the
regiment, now the 149th U. S. Field Artillery. The regiment was mustered
into federal service July 20, as part of the 67th F. A. Brigade and of
the 42d Division, already named the Rainbow Division by Secretary of War
Baker because of its national composition, comprising units of
twenty-six states.
At Camp Geismar, as Colonel Reilly named the regiment's encampment
alongside Fort Sheridan, there was daily drill with the American 3-inch
pieces. On July 30 the regiment was reviewed by General Berry, who was
inspecting units of the 42d Division. Some of the "border veterans" of
the battery had gone to the first Reserve Officers' Training Camp, and
about twenty-five former members of Battery E received commissions.
On September 3, 1917, the regiment left Chicago for Camp Mills, First
Lieutenant Howard R. Stone in command, Captain Odell having been
transferred to Second Battalion headquarters as captain-adjutant.
Sergeant John Cowan and Corporal Russel Royer had shortly before been
commissioned second lieutenants, the former remaining in the battery and
the latter going to Headquarters Company.
September 7, 1917, First Lieutenant Lawrence B. Robbins was transferred
from Battery C to the command of Battery E, and shortly afterwards
commissioned captain.
Having no horses or guns, the regiment received plenty of foot drill,
relieved by short periods of setting-up exercises, trigger-squeeze
pistol practice and instruction in first aid to the wounded. The foot
drill became hikes through Garden City and vicinity, then regimental
reviews, and finally exhibited the accomplishment of the men in reviews
by Secretary of War Baker and Major-General Mann.
Evenings, Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, and Sundays gave generous
opportunity for sampling the varied diversions of New York City, and the
hospitality of the residents of the neighboring towns of Long Island.
And these pleasures were well sampled! The batteries of the 149th
entertained the corresponding organizations of the 150th and 151st
regiments on the evening of September 28, when Colonel Reilly's
description of warfare in France furnished interesting instruction, and
abundant refreshments caused general content and satisfaction. The
following week, the 151st returned the compliment, with equal enjoyment.
October 2, an additional detail of men left for Newport News, where they
joined the men who had left Fort Sheridan with the horses, at the
remount station. About this time Lieutenant Packard, from the Plattsburg
camp, was attached to Battery E.
Constant instruction in making packs and rolls hinted at leaving. Then
the making of allotments and the taking out of war risk insurance, the
packing of duffle bags, and the boxing of all Q. M. supplies made us
ready for departure by the middle of the month, and waiting for orders
to France.
CHAPTER I
ON BOARD THE "PRESIDENT LINCOLN"
The mounting flames of a bonfire cast a flickering red light down the
battery street. Burning the whole night through, to consume boxes,
refuse and abandoned material of various kinds, these ruddy
illuminations in the quarters of the 149th Field Artillery, at Camp
Mills, Long Island, were omens of unusual, and unpublished, happenings.
The men of the regiment felt the nearness of these events, though they
had been given no warning of them, and slept, fully clothed, with their
packs still rolled as they had been at inspection the afternoon before.
Covered only by their overcoats, the boys tossed uneasily on their
canvas cots in the chilliness of the night. When one, awakened by the
cold, ventured to approach the bonfire to warm himself, the voice of a
sentry warned him away: "No one is allowed around the fire. Orders are
for no unusual appearance or noise." And the chilly one would return to
his tent, if not to slumber, muttering, "Tonight's the night, all
right!"
At 3:30 a. m., a whispered summons roused each man. A few, who had
scoffed at the omens the previous evening, rolled their packs by feeble
candles. All the cots were folded and piled in the shed at the end of
the street that had housed the battery kitchen. The cooks performed
their last rites there, by serving coffee and sandwiches. The last
scraps of paper and other litter in the battery street were "policed
up," and added to the now dying bonfire. Then the batteries were formed,
and the regiment, at 5 o'clock, October 18, 1917, marched silently out
of Camp Mills.
The hike to the railroad station was a short one. There the regiment
quickly boarded a waiting train, which pulled out at 6, to make the
brief journey to the ferry docks in Brooklyn. Quickly and quietly, the
men boarded the ferry. They had been instructed to make no noise,
attract no attention, and so shield the troop movement as much as
possible from public (and enemy) notice. But a ferry-boat load of
khaki-clad youths, when such ferry-boat loads were not so numerous as
they later became, could not fail to draw the eyes of the throngs on
their way to business. The journey around the Battery and up the Hudson
River was punctuated by cheers and shouts of good-bye from witnesses of
our departure. At the docks of the Hamburg-American Line, where the
"Vaterland" and other ocean liners had lain since the autumn of 1914,
the boys filed onto the wharf and immediately over the side of the
"President Lincoln."
As he was assigned his place in the hold, each man was given two things:
a printed sheet of instructions, which was to guide his actions on
board, and a life-preserver, which, hanging like two sofa pillows, one
on his breast, the other on his back, was to impede all his movements on
board. For these must be worn night and day, whether one was eating or
drinking, working or playing; and must be within reach when one slept.
That last was easy, for they usually served as pillows.
That was one of the precautions against danger from a submarine's
torpedo. Another was the fire-drill, which occurred at unexpected times,
either at night, in the midst of sleep, or during the day. Since there
were between 5,500 and 6,000 troops on board, exclusive of the crew of
400, it was important that they should know the quickest and easiest way
to escape from the ship in case of accident. The "President Lincoln,"
before the war the largest freight vessel afloat, was built for the
carrying trade and not at all for passengers. In each hatch were four,
and in some five, decks below, and it was a feat to empty all these by
the narrow iron stairways in the short space of two minutes. At the
entrance to each hatch were stacked rafts, ready to be unlashed and
heaved over the side, and every man had a place.
Below, each man had a bunk, a canvas stretcher hung on a frame, three
tiers high, that ran the length of the hatch, narrow aisles separating
each double row. Electric lights made these good places to lounge and
read. But when night fell, every light in the ship was extinguished,
save only the dim blue lights at the stairways. Not even a lighted
cigarette was allowed on deck or at a porthole, lest it betray the fleet
to some hostile submarine, lurking near under cover of darkness. And
all day long and the night through, lookouts--an officer and one
enlisted man--watched the waves from the mast heads and from sentry
boxes along the side, fore and aft, for the ripple of a periscope.
Excessive precaution was not without good cause. This fleet was such as
to spur enemy submarines to extraordinary activity for several reasons:
The vessels were former Hamburg-American Line ships, making their first
voyage under American colors; it was a double blow that these German
boats should not only be employed in the service of the United States,
but even be used to carry troops and supplies to defeat Germany herself.
Again, these seven vessels transported an entire division at once, the
first to be sent across the Atlantic as a unit, a division which had
received much attention because of its composition, an amalgamation of
National Guard organizations from twenty-six states.
Battery E mounted guard on the "President Lincoln" on the evening of the
day the regiment embarked, October 18, and so a good many of the boys
were on deck to see the lights of the Statue of Liberty fade behind as
the fleet stood out to sea during the dark. About midnight the gongs
sounded an alarm, and everyone was awakened for the first fire-drill.
But the blue lights at the stairways that were the sole illumination,
refused to work, and since no one could tell in the pitch blackness
where to turn or whom to follow, the men were sent back to their bunks.
The next day Battery E went on "K. P." Since more than 2.500 men were
served in the forward mess hall in approximately two hours, the force of
"kitchen police" required was large. The cooking was done by the regular
ship's cooks in their kitchen with huge caldrons and immense kettles.
Only the serving was done by the troops. It was a particularly hard job
that day, for the roughness of the open sea had begun to unsteady the
boys, and the sight of food, let alone serving it for two hours, was
enough to incapacitate them as kitchen hands.
After they had gained their sea-legs, however, mess time was the
important hour of the day, and the chief occupation of everybody was
waiting for the next meal. The occasional fire-drills were brief.
Calisthenics were necessarily light and not long in duration, on account
of the lack of space on deck. Reading matter was greatly in demand, and
much time was spent on deck merely in contemplation of the sad sea
waves, the flying fish, and now and then a school of porpoise. On the
fifth day out, target practice by the ship's gun crews furnished great
excitement, and gave us greater sense of security when we had seen how
accurate marksmen the gun-pointers were.
As a rule, the meals on ship-board were worth anticipating. Sunday
dinners included chicken, for the last times that delicacy appeared on
our menu, unless one includes the Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys of
the first winter in France. Eggs, boiled for breakfast, also appeared on
the menu for the last time, as did fresh fruit, such as apples, oranges
and bananas. Sweet potatoes were more plentiful than the Irish variety,
until one began to long for plain "spuds." Stew and beans became more
frequent as the voyage neared its close. But the men who ate in that
forward mess hall will never forget the meal with which Battery E, again
on "K. P.," celebrated our arrival in port at St. Nazaire on the
afternoon of October 31, 1917.
On the morning of the previous day we found that, instead of the cruiser
and destroyer which had escorted us across the Atlantic, there were on
all sides of us little, parti-colored craft that tore through the water
and careered all about us, French coast patrol boats. They were
camouflaged in that peculiar style, after the fashion of a cubist
painting, which was to become so common to our eyes later on. Far on the
horizon that morning we saw, too, a large fleet of merchant vessels
returning to the United States, and the terrific rolls that struck the
ship convinced us we were in the Bay of Biscay, nearing port.
"Land! Land!" was the cry next morning. Sure enough, there it was! We
thought some ex-New Yorker had memories of the island prison in the East
River when he said: "There's Belle Isle!" But so it was:
Belle-Ile-en-mer, a short distance from the harbor of St. Nazaire. We
reached the port at about 3 o'clock that afternoon, and were fast to the
dock an hour or two later.
Evening mess, which was usually begun at 3:30 or 4 o'clock, so that it
might be over by dark, was delayed till 5 that day, while everybody hung
over the rails to get their first sight of France. When they did
descend, however, Battery E was waiting to serve a meal worthy of the
day. Roast beef, Irish potatoes, gravy, bread and butter, tea, tapioca
pudding and fruit cake. Nor was the quantity stinted. "We're celebrating
tonight!" said Battery E, behind the serving tables, "Eat your fill,
boys!" And an extra helping went into the mess kits. When the long line
had all passed by, the kitchen had sent its last shred of meat, its last
drop of pudding to the mess hall. The allowance of cake for the meal had
been far exceeded, but the good-natured chief petty officer in charge of
the mess stores sent again and again for more.
Five more days were spent on board the boat. The first two passed slowly
enough. Much time was spent in efforts to buy chocolate and apples,
hoisted aboard by campaign hats lowered on long strings from portholes,
from the boats sculled alongside by fantastically clad fishermen, girls,
small boys and old women. Or one might watch the German prisoners,
marked by a huge "P. G." stamped on the back of their uniforms, pushing
about the puny French freight cars on the docks. Or one might catch a
detail to unload freight, or stand guard on the dock.
Saturday afternoon, November 3, the regiment marched up through the city
and along the Boulevard de l'Ocean, St. Nazaire's Riverside Drive. Then
we remarked what we later became used to seeing, that the women seemed
almost all to wear black, and practically every man was in a uniform.
The following afternoon, leave was given to visit the town. Hotels,
restaurants and pastry shops did a rushing business, as did also the old
women who kept the stands in the market square, selling postcards,
souvenirs and all manner of trinkets. But the time spent ashore was not
long, for we were called back to unload the ship that night, and marched
out next day, our packs upon our backs, to a camp a short distance from
the city.
At that camp we felt first that economical parsimony which the Old World
must practice, in contrast to the extravagant abundance of our own land.
The scanty wood allowance made the cooks suddenly mindful of the last
stray splinters. Wash water was available only at certain specified
times, and a squad of men must be gathered for a bath, in order that the
water from the showers should not be wasted. No wonder, thought we,
that the Frenchman drinks his eternal "vin rouge," if water is so
scarce.
But our stay at St. Nazaire was not long. There were a few days of
diverse details, such as shifting boxes and equipment on the docks,
leveling the drill grounds, and excavating for the big reservoir that
was later to furnish the water supply for the camp. Saturday night the
Second Battalion marched out of camp shortly after midnight, and boarded
a train for the short ride northward to the town of Guer, in the
department of Morbihan. That we were not full-fledged soldiers was
evidenced by the fact that we made the trip in third-class passenger
coaches and not in the box-cars which were ever afterwards to be our
mode of transportation in France. But the stops were as frequent as they
were in our later train rides, and it was not until the middle of the
afternoon, Sunday, November 11, that we arrived at Guer.
[Illustration: Machine Gun Mounted for Air Craft]
[Illustration: Three Sergeants in Romenoville's Ruins]
[Illustration: Three Corporals Ready to Hike]
[Illustration: The Battery Clerk and the Courier]