CHAPTER X

WITH THE ARMY OF OCCUPATION

On the 16th we took to the road again, happy at the thought that

the Rainbow Division had received the honor of being chosen as part

of the Army of Occupation. At the end of the first day’s march our

Headquarters were at Baalon. Crossing the Meuse at Duns sur Meuse I

ran into Hogstrom and Mullen of Company C, whom I had thought dead,

but who had been captured by the Germans in the wire on the night

of October 14th. They had been well used, they said, except for the

fact that there was little to eat. We crossed the Belgian frontier

on the morning of November 21st at the village of Fagny, which was

all decorated up like Old Home Day. The village band—a nondescript

outfit—played us into town. The people had made out of dress material

American flags, or rather well-meant attempts at them, as five or six

stripes and a dozen stars was about as near as they could come to

it. After crossing the border we received a new commanding officer

in the person of Colonel Charles R. Howland, a regular army man who

had a regiment in the 86th Division. When that Division was broken

up for replacement purposes, he was assigned to fill the vacancy

in ours. About the same time Colonel Henry J. Reilly, who had been

ably handling our brigade during the past five weeks, was superseded

by General F. M. Caldwell, U. S. A. Colonel Reilly returned to the

command of the 149th F. A.

As we crossed Belgium at its southmost tip, we made only a two days’

job of it, headquarters being at Ste. Marie on November 21st and

at Thiaumont November 22nd. My chief impressions were of a clean,

orderly, prosperous country as compared with the ruined parts of

France, and a very intelligent curé in whose house I stopped at Ste.

Marie. When we passed the borders of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg

at Oberpollen on the 22nd there were no brass bands to greet us.

The inhabitants were civil and pleasant but they adopted a correct

attitude towards us as foreigners crossing through their territory.

Most of the regiment was billetted, and rather well accommodated, at

Useldingen, a comfortable town with a fine new parish church. Here we

stayed until the 1st of December, till arrangements could be made for

our passage into Germany. We are part of the Third Army now, and the

Third Army has been organized on a shoe-string. It cannot be said to

be functioning very well, and the system of supplies and equipment

is not in good shape. We have gotten a good deal of equipment—and we

never needed it worse than after leaving the Argonne—but there are

many old and ill-fitting shoes, which makes hiking a torture for the

men.

The principal sight of Useldingen is the ruins of a very extensive

medieval castle, standing on an elevation in the middle of the town.

I wandered through it with Vandy Ward and Read of H. Q. Co., trying

with the aid of the Curé to get an idea of its original plan and the

sort of life that was led there by other soldiers a thousand years

ago.

Thanksgiving Day came round while we were here and everybody worked

to celebrate it in proper fashion. There is a fair supply of food in

the country, though one has to pay high prices for it, all the higher

because the national currency is in marks and the people demand the

old rate of 100 francs for 80 marks. But, like all Americans, we

want what we want when we want it, so the canny Luxembourgeois get

what they ask for. Our religious services were in thanksgiving for

peace. In the church we had a solemn high mass and Te Deum and I

preached, Father Hanley singing the Mass. As Chaplain Holmes had not

yet returned, I unfrocked myself of my papistical robes and went

out to hold general services in the romantic courtyard of the old

Schloss, using a breach in the fortifications as a pulpit. My friend

Chaplain Halliday of the Ohios came along and added a few words in

his earnest, sensible style.

There is great joy in the regiment, for Captain Hurley is back. He

looks thin and none too fit, and I know he is with us, not because

the hospital authorities thought that he should be, but through his

own strong desire and pleading eloquence. We had a visit from Donovan

also—on crutches. The Provost Marshal General had him transferred to

his department while he was in the hospital, and now he is touring

the country in a car, performing his new services. It is not a bad

sort of a job at all—with headquarters in Paris, and a chance to tour

all over France in a first-class automobile, with the best billets

and the best food wherever he goes—but not for Donovan. No one of

our enlisted men marooned in a casual camp with a lot of absolute

strangers ever uttered with greater longing and pathos the formula,

“I want to be back with my old outfit.” For Donovan’s case I shall

omit the pathos. When that young man wants anything very bad he gets

it. I expect to see him back on duty with us in a very, very brief

time.

My mail is a very full one these days. All of our old-timers back in

hospitals and camps are clamoring to return to the regiment, and they

think that if I only speak to somebody, a word from me will manage

it. I went to Mersch to see my ever kind friend, Colonel Hughes, our

Divisional Chief of Staff, to inquire if some general arrangement

could not be made for the return of all men in combat divisions

who had been evacuated from the line through wounds or sickness. I

found that he was doing everything that he possibly could to get our

Rainbow fellows back, and he promised to work for an order along the

lines I proposed.

The regiment marched on the 1st of December, Headquarters passing

the night at Mersch; and on December 2nd to Waldbillig. December 3rd

was the day on which we finally accomplished what we had started out

to do—make our invasion of Germany. We crossed the border by a bridge

over the Sauer river into the village of Bollendorf. Captain John

Mangan, who had come to the regiment on business from the 2nd Army,

George Boothby of the New York _World_ and myself crossed the bridge

ahead of the others, very curious to see what reception we would

get in the land of the enemy. The first indication of the sort of

reception we were to have came from an invitation from an old farmer

and his wife whose house stood at the end of the bridge to step

inside and have a glass of schnapps; when we prudently declined this,

we were offered apples, but not being there as visitors, we felt it

proper to say no. The proffered kindnesses were inspired partly no

doubt by a desire to propitiate, but nobody could doubt that it was

largely the decent impulse of a nice old couple. We rejoined the

regiment for the march across.

The column came down along the river, the band in front playing “The

Yanks Are Coming” and, as we turned to cross the bridge, the lively

regimental tune of “Garry Owen.” In front of us, above the German

hill, there was a beautiful rainbow. As we marched triumphantly onto

German soil, nothing more hostile greeted us than the click of a

moving-picture camera. Every soldier in the line was glowing with

happiness except myself, perhaps. On occasions like this of glory and

excitement my mind has a habit of going back to the lads that are

gone.

We marched, with advance and rear guards, as if entering a hostile

country, our first stop being at Holsthum. We had hopes that our line

of march would take us down the Moselle Valley towards Coblenz, but

instead we struck off to the north and northeast, through the rough

Eiffel country, along mountain roads that were badly worn down by the

traffic of war. Our Headquarters for December 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th and

9th were Blickendorf, Wallerschein, Hillesheim (a romantic spot),

Weisbaum and, after a desperate hike, Wershofen.

The greatest surprise of our first week in Germany was the attitude

of the people towards us. We had expected to be in for an unpleasant

experience, and I have no doubt that some of our fellows had a

picture of themselves moving around in German villages with loaded

rifle and fixed bayonet ready to repel treacherous attacks. We were

received very peacefully, one might almost say, cordially. Farmers

in the fields would go out of the way to put us on the right road,

children in the villages were as friendly and curious as youngsters

at home; the women lent their utensils and often helped soldiers

with their cooking, even offering stuff from their small stores

when the hungry men arrived far ahead of their kitchens. There were

many German soldiers in these towns still wearing the uniform (they

would be naked otherwise), and they, too, were interested, curious,

almost friendly. Some of them had been against us in battle, and

with the spirit of veterans in all times and places, they struck

up conversation with our men, fighting the battles over again and

swapping lies. I talked with the priests in the different towns—one

of them a Chaplain just returned from the Eastern front. Like all the

others that we meet, they say that their country had the French and

British licked if we had stayed out; to which I make the very obvious

retort that they had followed a very foolish policy when they dragged

us in.

But it is only occasionally that this note is struck, the attitude

of most people being that the war is over and they are glad of it.

In fact, a surprising number have wanted to have it over for a

considerable time past. No doubt the historical background of life in

these countries makes them able to take defeat with more philosophy

than we could ever muster up if foreign troops were to occupy our

country. As for us, we are here in the rôle of victors, and our

soldiers are willing to go half way and accept the attitude that for

them also (unless somebody wants to start something) the war is a

past issue.

Civilians hold grudges, but soldiers do not; at least the soldiers

who do the actual fighting. The civilian mind is fed up on all sorts

of stories about atrocities, most of which I believe are fabricated

to arouse decent human beings up to the point of approving of this

rotten business of war. We fought the Germans two long tricks in the

trenches and in five pitched battles and they never did anything

to us that we did not try to do to them. And we played the game as

fairly as it can be played. We followed their retreat through three

sectors, in two of which they had been for years, and we never

witnessed at first hand any of the atrocities we read about. A church

burned at St. Benoit without any good military reason that I could

see; the shelling of the hospital in Villers sur Fere, in which case

there was no way for them to know it was a hospital; some valuables

piled up for carrying away—that is the whole indictment. But no

crucified soldiers, no babies with their hands cut off, no girls

outraged in trenches, to provoke our soldiers to rush on to death to

rescue them, no poisoned food or wells (except of course through gas

shells), no women chained to machine guns, and no prisoners playing

treachery.

In the invaded territory of France we found plenty of evidence of

harsh military occupation. It was bad at its best, and some local

commanders made it more intolerable. The people were taxed without

much to show for their money, forced to work for little or no pay,

rationed rather slenderly though with enough to sustain strength,

had to put up with requisitions of animals, houses and some minor

property, such as linen and copper down to bedsheets and the brass

knobs off the stoves. They were also dragooned about to various

places to do work for their conquerors. I heard plenty of tales in

Eastern France and Belgium of terrible experiences and unwarranted

executions during the first couple of weeks of the German occupation

from witnesses whose word I believe absolutely. After the civilians

were thoroughly cowed these atrocities ceased, though many of the

lesser hardships of military occupation persevered during the four

years.

Most of the French and Belgians told me (though some voiced

suspicions to the contrary) that the Germans saw to it strictly that

none of their soldiers took the relief goods sent from America. One

old lady told me that she had proof that all Germans were robbers;

for they give her some patched clothing as coming from America and

she knew that nobody in America would send over such stuff as that.

It was hard to have to choose between being just and being loyal

American. I refuse to state which attitude I took, but I am afraid

that the dear old lady still thinks she has an argument to prove that

the Boches are robbers.

At any rate, the older griefs of these people are for the soldiers

who have come through an intense war experience, echoes of “Old

unhappy far-off things, and battles long ago.” They judge the German

soldier by their own experience and by soldier standards. They do not

fear him, they do not hate him, they do not despise him either. They

respected him when he put up a good fight or made a clean getaway,

and that was most of the time. It was a rare thing to hear a soldier

in a combat division talk about “Huns.” It was always the “Heinies,”

the “Jerries,” the “Boches” or, simply the “Germans.”

The fine spirit on the part of our troops was much better, even for

military value, than hatred would have been. I cannot see that deep

bitterness could have made them any bolder. It would only have made

them less efficient. And the spirit is admirable in itself.

At any rate we were convinced from the beginning that our experiences

as part of the army of occupation were not going to be as unpleasant

as we expected.

Aside from the attitude of the people the things that strike us

most are two. Putting the two into one, it is the number and the

fatness of the children. There are few children on the streets in

French villages; German villages swarm with youngsters. Our coming

is like circus day and they are all out, especially the boys. Boys

everywhere! And such sturdy little towheads—chubby is the word for

the smaller ones. I do not know about the rest of Germany, but the

Rhineland is certainly not starved. Perhaps, as in Belgium, it is

the townspeople who do the suffering. These children wear patched

clothing, but the clothing covers rounded bodies. We find it easy

to purchase meals at rates that are astoundingly reasonable after

our experience in other European countries. Germany lacks many

things—edible bread, good beer, real coffee, kerosene, rubber, oil,

soap and fats; and in the cities, no doubt, meat and milk. The people

here say that they eat little meat, their sustenance being largely

vegetable and based on the foundation of the potato. It scores

another triumph for the potato.

But I would like to know how they fatten the children. With good

advertising a man could make a fortune on it at home. German

breakfast food for boys, with pictures of chubby young rascals

playing around American soldiers. But perhaps Germans are plump by

nature or divine decree, and it would not work with lantern-jawed

Yanks like ourselves.

During this period Lieutenant Colonel Donovan returned to duty with

us by direct orders of General Headquarters, Lieutenant Dravo going

back to his duties as Division Machine Gun Officer, thus being still

near enough to us to keep up the ties of friendship which he had

established in the Regiment. We remained in Wershofen and surrounding

villages for five days, during which time the equipment was gone

over, animals rested and some attempt made to patch up the shoes of

the men, which had been worn to nothing by hiking with heavy packs

on rough roads. On December 14th, we marched through the picturesque

valley of the Ahr river over a good road to Altenahr, the scenery of

which looks as if it had been arranged by some artistic stage manager

with an eye to picturesque effect. It is a summer resort country and

we had the advantage of good hotels for billets. On December 15th,

we marched through Ahrweiler, an old walled town which was to be our

Division Headquarters, and Neuenahr, a modern summer resort place

with good roads, commodious hotels and attractive shop windows, and

thence to the Rhine, where, turning north about two kilometers, we

entered the most pleasant and excellent town of Remagen-am-Rhein,

which was to be our home for the next three or four months.

Remagen was already in existence in Roman days. It is a charming

well-built place of 3,500 inhabitants, with a large parish church and

also an Evangelical church and a synagogue. In addition, there is

on the hillside a striking pilgrimage church attended by Franciscan

Friars and dedicated to St. Apollinaris, with the Stations of the

Cross built on the roadway leading up to it. The much advertised

bottled waters which flow from a source near Neuenahr get their name

from this shrine. Remagen has also a large convent, Annacloster, a

hospital and a town hall, in front of which our daily guard mounts

are held.

I am afraid, however, that these edifices for religious and municipal

uses made less immediate appeal to our fellows than the fact that

the town possessed a number of large and commodious hotels, some of

them ample for a whole company. We immediately took possession of

these as well as of stores, beer-gardens and extra rooms in private

houses; the principle being that every soldier of ours should have a

bed to sleep in, even if the German adult males had to go without.

Donovan and I went on ahead to billet for Headquarters. We called

on the Bürgermeister, a kindly, gentlemanly, educated man, who was

anxious to do everything to make our stay in town a harmonious one.

His assistant, an agreeable young man who had been in America for a

couple of years and had every intention of going back, came along

with us on our tour. We had our pick of two or three modern villas

of grandiose type north of the town on the hillside, the only

difficulty about them being that they were a little too far away.

At first two of our battalions were placed in mountain villages

to the west, but after a week or so we had everybody accommodated

in Remagen. I settled down with my gallant followers, Halligan

and McLaughlin, in the house of the Bürgermeister, which faced on

the river just north of the parish Church. My German is a very

sad affair, but he speaks French and his wife English. They have

three nice children, the oldest about twelve. I keep my relations

with the parents as official as is possible, when one is dealing

with gentlefolks, but if I am expected to avoid fraternizing with

the youngsters, they will have to lock me up or shoot me. I had a

conference with the Parish Priest, a sturdy personality who has his

flock in good control, at my house the other day and we were talking

four languages at once—German, French, English and Latin. But I

worked out my plans for a Christmas celebration.

Christmas Mass on the Rhine! In 1916, our midnight mass was under

the open sky along the Rio Grande; in 1917, in the old medieval

church at Grand in the Vosges; and now, thank Heaven, in this year

of grace, 1918, we celebrated it peacefully and triumphantly in the

country with which we had been at war. Attendance was of course

voluntary, but I think the whole regiment marched to the service

with the band preceding them playing “Onward Christian Soldiers” and

“Adeste Fideles.” We took full possession of the Church, though many

of the townsfolk came in, and when at the end, our men sang the hymn

of Thanksgiving, “Holy God, we praise Thy name” the Germans swelled

our chorus in their own language “Grosser Gott wir loben Dich.” I

preached on the theme “Can the war be ascribed to a failure on the

part of Christianity?” I have been often irritated by ideas on this

subject coming from leaders of thought who have given little place or

opportunity to Christianity in their lives or projects. As Chesterton

says: “Christianity has not been tried out and found wanting;

Christianity has been tried—a little—and found difficult.” Father

Hanley sang the Mass, the Guard of Honor with the Colors being from

Company K, with Captain Hurley in charge.

For the Company dinners I was able to supply ample funds through the

never-ceasing generosity of our Board of Trustees in New York City,

and funds also placed at my disposal which were sent by Mrs. Barend

Van Gerbig through the Veteran Corps of the 69th New York. But in

their purchase of food, the wily mess sergeants found that soap was a

better medium of exchange than money.

During January and February the men were kept busy during the day

in field training, infantry drill, range practice and athletics.

Particular attention was paid to smartness of appearance and

punctiliousness in soldierly bearing and courtesy. The weather

was mild though often rainy. Coal was not too hard to procure and

the billets were kept fairly comfortable. The regiment being all

in one town there was a fine soldier atmosphere in the place. The

townspeople are a kindly decent sort, but our fellows have enough

society in themselves and there is little fraternization, and none

that is a source of any danger—there is more chance of our making

them American in ideas than of their making us German.

The Welfare Societies are on the job with good accommodations. In

the “Y” we have still Jewett and the ever faithful Pritchard and two

or three devoted ladies, one of whom is Miss Dearing, a sister of

Harry Dearing who was killed in the Argonne. Jim O’Hara of the K. of

C. got the Parish Priest to give up his Jugendheim, a new building

with large hall, bowling alleys, all the German Verein sort of

thing. There is no lack of places to go or ways to spend an evening.

Lieutenant Fechheimer took charge of athletics and we had brigade

contests, and also with the Canadians, who were just to the left of

the Ohios.

The 3rd Battalion has lost the service of Mr. Kelly of the “Y.” When

I first knew Mr. Kelly of the “Y” he was Corporal Kelly of Company

I, 69th Regiment, at McAllen, Texas, and was sometimes known, Irish

fashion, as “Kelly the Lepper,” as he was a famous runner. His eyes

were not as good as his legs, so he was turned down for reenlistment.

Being determined to have a part in the war he got the “Y” to send

him over as an athletic instructor and finally worked his way up to

our regiment and was attached to the 3rd Battalion which includes

his own company. The assignment was more to the advantage of the

3rd Battalion than of the Y. M. C. A. for Kelly gave away gratis

everything he could wheedle, bully, or steal from the “Y” depot

officials. When we reached the Rhine, things were too quiet for Kelly

and he started off to visit his native town in Ireland. If I ever

hear that somebody has gotten stores from the police barracks to

equip the Sein Feiners, I shall know that Kelly the Lepper is on the

job.

My own life is an altogether pleasant one. I have for my office a

well furnished parlor on the ground floor of the Bürgermeister’s

house where I spend my mornings with Bill Halligan, mainly at the

task of writing letters to soldiers who want to get back and to

folks at home who ask news of their dear ones, living or dead. In

the afternoons I float lazily around amongst the companies, just

chatting and gossiping, and getting in a good deal of my work in

my own way, sort of incidentally and on the side; or I drop in at

headquarters and bother Captain Dick Allen and Jansen and Ed Farrell

of the Personnel Department for correct data for my diary, or Ted

Ranscht and Clarke for maps. Or I look in on the juvenile pro-consuls

Springer and Allen to smile at the air of easy mastery with which

they boss the German civilians into observing American Military

Commands. My nights I spend at the building of the “Y” or K. of C.

amongst the men, or at home, receiving numerous guests with a world

of topics to discuss. It is an agreeable kind of existence, with no

urgent duties except correspondence, and with the satisfaction of

performing a not unimportant service without any feeling of labor,

but merely by kindly and friendly intercourse. My orderly, “Little

Mac,” is having the time of his life. If I only had a car for him to

drive me around in, as Tom Gowdy did in Texas, he would never want to

go home to the Bronx.

Father Hanley was made director of amusements and was kept busy

providing entertainment five nights a week from our own and other

Divisions for the two large halls conducted by the Y. M. C. A. and

the K. of C., a task which he accomplished as he does everything—to

complete satisfaction.

One thing that astonished everybody in this New York regiment was

the number of illiterates amongst replacements from the Southern

States. We had two hundred men who could not sign their names to

the pay-roll. A strong movement was started throughout the American

Expeditionary Forces after the Armistice to teach such men to read

and write, and the simplest problems in arithmetic, as well as to

give a better knowledge of English to foreign born soldiers. In our

regiment this task was confided to Chaplain Holmes, who went at it

with his usual devotion to duty and attention to details, so that

Chaplain Nash who was Divisional School Officer told me that the

educational work in the 165th was by far the best in the Division.

I had many examples of the need of schooling for certain of the men.

Many of our recent replacements had been kept going from place to

place and had not received pay in months. Whenever I heard of such

cases I advanced them money from our Trustee’s Fund. One evening

three of our old-timers came to my billet to borrow some money

to have a little party, but I had to tell them that my stock of

francs was cleaned out. Just then a fine big simple fellow from the

Tennessee mountains came in to return the money I had loaned him.

“How much do you owe me?” I asked. “Thirty-seven francs.” “All right,

hand it over to these fellows here.” “Well, I reckon I’d rather pay

you.” After a certain amount of joking about it, it dawned upon my

slow intelligence that the poor fellow was embarrassed by not being

able to count money, so I took him into another room and tried to

teach him how much change he should have out of a fifty franc note.

The efforts of our generous friends in New York in supplying funds

were much appreciated by the whole regiment. We had been in line for

months and the men were seldom paid. Even when payday came those

who were absent in hospital, or those who had been absent when the

pay-roll was signed, got nothing. The funds were left absolutely at

my disposal, and I knew from the calibre of our Trustees that it was

their wish that they should be disbursed in a generous spirit. Many

of our bright sergeants were started off to Officer’s School without

a sou in their pockets. I believed that our New York backers would

like to have the best men of our regiment able to hold up their

heads in any crowd, so I saw that every one of them had fifty or a

hundred francs in his pocket before starting. When I could be sure

of addresses, I sent money to men in hospitals and in casual camps.

While the regiment was in line money was no use to anybody, as there

was absolutely nothing to buy, not even an egg or a glass of wine,

but here in Germany, with shops and eating houses open, my cash was a

real boon, and I did not hesitate to disburse it.

Just after the armistice, with the prospect that leaves might at last

be granted, I sent to our trustees a bold request for $20,000.00, to

guarantee the men a real holiday. When the permissions for leaves

came I found that in most cases this money was not needed, as the

long deferred pay gave most of the men sufficient money of their own.

So I devoted a generous amount of it to help finance the company

dinners which were gotten up on a metropolitan scale in the hotels of

Remagen. These were joyous affairs—feasts of song and story-telling

and speech-making. Colonel Donovan and I made it a practice to attend

them all, and he got in many a strong word on spirit and discipline

which had better results in that environment than could have been

produced on a more formal occasion. Father Hanley was always a

favorite at these gatherings as he handed out the latest rumors

(which he himself had manufactured), discoursed on the superiority

of Cleveland over New York, and of the 3rd Battalion over any other

bunch of fighting men in the whole universe. It was a part of my

share in the function to speak on the good men in the Company that

had paid the great price; and it is a tribute to the loyalty and

steadfastness of human nature to see how the merry-makers would pause

in their enjoyment to pay the tribute of a sigh or a tear to the

memory of their companions of the battlefield who were absent from

their triumph.

Our winter on the Rhine was our happiest period in the whole war.

First and foremost the regiment was all together in one place; and

companionship is by far the biggest element of satisfaction in a

soldier’s life. The men had good warm billets and most of them had

beds to sleep on. The food was substantial and plentiful, though, for

that matter, I think we were at all times the best fed army that ever

went to war. There were periods of starvation in battles, but the

main difficulty was even then in getting it from the kitchen to the

men in line.

The men had enough work to do to keep them in good healthy condition

and to prevent them from becoming discontented; but all in all, it

was an easy life. All of the old-timers got a chance to go off on

leave, most of them choosing Paris, the Riviera, or Ireland. Short

excursions to Coblenz by rail or river were given to everybody.

Our band had a prominent part in adding to the pleasures of life.

Bandmaster Ed. Zitzman had returned from school, and he with the

Drum Major John Mullin and Sergeants Jim Lynch and Paddy Stokes

made frequent demands on me for funds to purchase music and extra

instruments. In France I had bought sixteen _clairons_ or trumpets

for the Company buglers to play with the Band. Here on the Rhine I

bought other instruments, including orchestral ones, so we were well

supplied for field or chamber music. Lieutenant Slayter took charge

of the Band in matters of discipline and march time, with excellent

results.

One of the greatest of our successes during this period was the 165th

Minstrels, organized by Major Lawrence, always active in everything

for the good of the men. After having scored a distinct hit at home

and throughout the Division, they went on a tour through the Army

of Occupation, and were booked to go back through France if we had

remained longer abroad. The performers were: _Interlocutor_, William

K. McGrath; _End Men_, Harry Mallen, Thomas McCardle, Harold Carmody,

Edward Finley, and Charles Woods; _Soubrettes_, Robert Harrison,

James O’Keefe, James F. O’Brien, William O’Neill, James Mack, Melvin

King, and John McLaughlin; _Chorus_: Charles Weinz, Edward Smith,

John Brawley, John Ryan, John Zimmerman, John Mullins, Thomas

O’Kelly, Eugene Eagan, Walter Hennessey, Peter Rogers, William Yanss,

Clinton Rice, Thomas Donohue, Chester Taylor, Sylvester Taylor, James

Kelly, Charles Larson, with T. Higginbotham as strong man and Milton

Steckels as contortionist.

The health of the command has been excellent, although since we

have come into civilized parts we have developed a certain amount

of pneumonia which we escaped while living in the hardships of the

Argonne. Since leaving Baccarat I know of only two of our men who

have died from other than battle causes; Private Myers of the Machine

Gun Company was drowned in the Marne in August and John E. Weaver of

Company L died during the same month of illness. In Germany we lost

Corporal Patrick McCarthy, Company E, died of pneumonia October 20th,

W. J. Silvey of Company D, James Kalonishiskie and Robert Clato of M,

James C. Vails of H, Corporal Joseph M. Seagriff, James O’Halloran,

Charles Nebel and Terrence McNally of Supply Company, Emery Thrash

and George Sanford of L, Carl Demarco of F, and one of the best of

our Sergeants, John B. Kerrigan of Headquarters Company.

Our only grievances were the difficulties of getting back our old

officers and men, and the stoppage of promotions for officers after

the Armistice. Every day my mail had a number of letters from

soldiers all over France asking me to get them back to the Regiment;

and work on this line constituted my greatest occupation. Many of the

men took the matter in their own hands and worked their way across

France, dodging M. P.’s, stealing rides on trucks and trains, begging

meals from kindly cooks and nice old French ladies, and finally, if

their luck held out, getting back amongst their own. Others were

returned by a more legitimate route, until, by the time we left the

Rhine we had nearly fourteen hundred men who belonged to the original

command.

A large number of our officers had been recommended, some of them

over and over again, for promotion, and had not received it on

account of wounds which kept them in hospitals when the promotion

might have come through. And now they were barred from receiving the

rank which they had earned on the battlefield, the vacancies being

filled by replacements. Some of these replacement officers made

themselves a warm place in the heart of the regiment especially Major

James Watson, who joined us in Luxembourg and was put in command of

the 3rd Battalion; and also an old friend of ours from the 12th New

York, Major Jay Zorn, who was with us for a short time.

Finally this legitimate grievance was settled in the most ample and

satisfactory fashion. Lieutenant Colonel Donovan was made Colonel,

and placed in command of the regiment, Colonel Howland going to take

charge of a leave area in France. Major Anderson was made Lieutenant

Colonel, and Bootz, Meaney and Merle-Smith Majors. There were also

a number of promotions to the rank of Captain both in the line

companies and in the Sanitary Detachment. There were two other men

that we all felt should have gotten their majority, but when the

original recommendations were made they were both suffering from

wounds in hospitals with no seeming prospects of ever getting back

to the regiment. These two were Captain John P. Hurley and Captain

Richard J. Ryan, who also, to everybody’s great delight, rejoined

us on this river (which we call the Ryan river) though still in a

doubtful state of health.

Many of these promotions came after Donovan’s accession to the

command and through his energetic efforts. He also made use of every

possible means through official and private channels, to get back

every officer and man of the Old Regiment that was able to come.

First and foremost amongst these was Lieutenant Colonel Timothy

J. Moynahan, who left us in Baccarat as a Major and had won his

Lieutenant Colonelcy as well as a D. S. C. and a Croix de Guerre with

the 37th Division. Jack Mangan, now Major Mangan, came back from 2nd

Army Headquarters. We had an abundance of majors though we had lost

one of them—Major Tom Reilley, who had been sent home much against

his will for a promotion which he never received, just after the

fighting was over.

We also got back a lot of happy lieutenants who had gone to officers

Candidate Schools, and had been commissioned in other Divisions,

the happiest of the lot, I think, being Leo Larney, a fine athlete

and a fine man. We had often recommended men for promotion in the

regiment but had been successful in very few cases. Sergeant Thomas

McCarthy was commissioned after the Ourcq; and later on Sergeants

Patrick Neary and John J. Larkin were sent back to us from school as

sergeants because the war started too soon after they left Ireland.

When facilities for becoming citizens were extended to men in their

case, they received their commissions in the regiment, and both did

remarkable work in the Argonne. Sergeant Frank Johnston of Company E

was for a long time an officer without knowing it, as his commission

had been sent to his home address.

Colonel Donovan also inaugurated a series of little entertainments

and dinners, inviting the leading officers of other regiments in

the Division to partake of our Metropolitan Hibernian hospitality.

Everybody in the Division likes Donovan, and they were as much

delighted as we when he finally got command of the Regiment that

he had so often led in action. One of our greatest friends is

Colonel John Johnson of the Engineers, a manly forthright two-fisted

South Carolinian; we delight also in verbal encounter with Colonel

Henry Reilly of the 149 Field Artillery, a man of wide experience,

unlimited mental resources, and agile wit. The other three infantry

colonels Hough, Screws and Tinley have been with the Division from

the beginning and our interchange of visits with them will be always

one of the pleasantest recollections of the campaign.

We celebrated St. Patrick’s Day on the Rhine in the best approved

manner with religion, games and feasting. My altar was set up in a

field beside the river. The theme for my discourse was the debt that

the world owes to the sons of Saint Patrick for their fight for civil

and religious liberty at home and abroad, with the prayer that that

debt might now be squared by the bestowal of liberty on the Island

from whence we sprung.

The day before Saint Patrick’s Day the whole Division was reviewed

by the Commander-in-Chief, General Pershing, at Remagen. It was a

note-worthy military ceremony in an appropriate setting, by the banks

of that river of historic associations. When he came to our regiment

the eyes of General Pershing were taken by the silver furls which

covered the staff of our flag from the silk of the colors to the

lowest tip. In fact, that staff is now in excess of the regulation

length, as we had to add an extra foot to it to get on the nine furls

that record our battles in this war. “What Regiment is this?” he

asked. “The 165th Infantry, Sir.” “What Regiment was it?” “The 69th

New York, Sir.” “The 69th New York. I understand now.”

This visit was the final hint that our stay was not to be long.

The whole Division got together to organize the Rainbow Division

Veterans which we did at an enthusiastic and encouragingly

contentious meeting at Neuenahr.

When the orders finally came for our return to America I received

them with a joy that was tinged with regret that the associations of

the past two years were to be broken up. They had been years full

of life and activity, and take them all in all, years of happiness.

There never was a moment when I wanted to be any place other than I

was. There were times of great tragedy, of seeing people killed and

of burying my dearest friends, but all that was part of the tragedy

of our generation. It would not have been any less if I were not

present, and it was some consolation to be where I could render some

little comfort to the men who had to go through them and to the

relatives of those who paid the big price.

The sense of congenial companionship more than makes up for the

hardships incidental to a campaign. What I am going to miss most is

the friendships I have formed. In a very special degree I am going

to miss Donovan. Nearly every evening we take our walk together

along the river road that parallels the Rhine. It is the very spot

which Byron selected for description in Childe Harold. The Rhine

turns sharply to the right to make its way through the gorge of the

Siebengebirge. “The castled crag of Drachenfels” looks down upon

the peaceful cloistered isle of Nonnenwerth, upon pleasant villages

and vineyard terraces and beautiful villas which, with the majestic

river, make the scene one of the most beautiful in the world.

The companionship makes it all the more attractive. This young

Buffalo lawyer who was suddenly called into the business of war, and

has made a name for himself throughout the American Expeditionary

Forces for outstanding courage and keen military judgment, is a

remarkable man. As a boy he reveled in Thomas Francis Meagher’s

“Speech on the Sword,” and his dream of life was to command an Irish

brigade in the service of the Republic. His dream came true, for the

69th in this war was larger than the Irish Brigade ever was. But

it did not come true by mere dreaming. He is always physically fit,

always alert, ready to do without food, sleep, rest, in the most

matter of fact way, thinking of nothing but the work in hand. He has

mind and manners and varied experience of life and resoluteness of

purpose. He has kept himself clean and sane and whole for whatever

adventure life might bring him, and he has come through this

surpassing adventure with honor and fame. I like him for his alert

mind and just views and ready wit, for his generous enthusiasms and

his whole engaging personality. The richest gain I have gotten out of

the war is the friendship of William J. Donovan.

That is the way I talk about him to myself. When we are together

we always find something to fight about. One unfailing subject of

discussion is which of us is the greater hero. That sounds rather

conceited, and all the more so when I say that each of us sticks up

strongly for himself. Those infernal youngsters of ours have been

telling stories about both of us, most of which, at least those that

concern myself, attest the loyalty of my friends better than their

veracity. There is only one way to take it—as a joke. If either of

us gets a clipping in which his name is mentioned he brandishes it

before company under the nose of the other challenging him to produce

some proof of being as great a hero. The other day Captain Ryan gave

Donovan an editorial about him from a paper in Watertown, N. Y. It

was immediately brought to mess, and Donovan thought he had scored a

triumph, but I countered with a quotation from a letter which said

that my picture, jewelled with electric lights, had a place of honor

in the window of a saloon on 14th Street. Donovan surrendered.

I got a letter from Tom Reilley, who is back in New York, and

disgusted with life because he is no longer with us; and he gave me

some choice ammunition. “Father Duffy,” he said, “You are certainly a

wonderful man. Your press agents are working overtime. Recently you

have been called the ‘Miracle Man,’ thus depriving George Stallings

of the title. In the newspaper league you have Bill Donovan beat by

9,306 columns. I wish you would tell me, How do you wade through a

stream of machine gun bullets? And that little stunt of yours of

letting high explosive shells bounce off your chest—you could make

your fortune in a circus doing that for the rest of your life.”

It is all very amusing now, but it is going to be extremely

embarrassing when we get back amongst civilians where people take

these things too seriously. They kept me too long as a professor of

metaphysics to fit me for the proper enjoyment of popularity. Donovan

says that after his final duties to the regiment are finished he is

going to run away from it all and go off with his wife on a trip to

Japan.

On April the second we boarded our trains for Brest—the first leg

on the way home. We had a happy trip across France in the most

comfortably arranged troop trains that Europe ever saw; remained

three or four days at Brest, and sailed for Hoboken, the regiment

being split up on two ships. Our headquarters and the first six

companies were on the _Harrisburg_, formerly the _City of Paris_

in the American Line. Jim Collintine used to sail on it and is

very enthusiastic in his praises. It is funny to hear him telling

a seasick bunch “Ain’t it a grand boat! A lovely boat! Sure you

wouldn’t know you were aboard her. And she’s the woise ould thing.

She’s been over this thrip so often that if niver a man put a hand to

her wheel she’d pick her own way out and niver stop or veer till she

turned her nose into the dock, like an ould horse findin’ its way to

the manger.”

After the men had found their sea-legs we had a happy trip. We spent

Easter Sunday aboard, celebrating it in holy fashion.

It was a happy throng that stood on the decks of the _Harrisburg_

on the morning of April 21st, gazing at the southern shores of Long

Island, and then the Statue of Liberty, and the massive towering

structures that announce to incoming voyagers the energy and daring

of the Western Republic. Then down the bay came the welcoming

flotilla bearing relatives, friends and benefactors.

The number of our welcomers and the ampleness of their enthusiasm

were the first indications we had of the overwhelming welcome which

was to be ours during the following two weeks. I do not intend to

speak here at any length, of these events, as the gentlemen of the

press have described them better than I could ever hope to do.

The freedom of the city was conferred upon Colonel Donovan and

his staff by Mayor Hylan and the Board of Alderman; and a dinner

was given to the officers by the Mayor’s Committee headed by the

genial Commissioner Rodman Wanamaker. Our own Board of Trustees,

the most generous and efficient lot of backers that any fighting

outfit ever had since war began, gave the whole regiment a dinner

at the Hotel Commodore which set a new record in the history of

repasts. Our brethren of the 69th New York Guard also gave a dinner

to the officers of the 165th. And Colonel Donovan and I enjoyed the

hospitality of the Press Association and the Lamb’s Club. Another big

baseball game, through the good will of the owners of the Giants,

added fresh funds to the money at my disposal for needy families. My

own fellow townsmen in the Bronx prepared a public reception, for

which every last detail was arranged except the weather; but I was

prouder than ever of them when they put the thing through in good

soldier fashion, regardless of the meanest day of wind and rain that

New York ever saw in the month of May.

There was nothing that imagination could conceive or energy perform

that our Board of Trustees was not willing to do for us. Dan Brady,

who has neglected his business for the past two years to look after

the 69th, and all the rest of them, devoted themselves entirely

to furthering our well-being and our glory. The only thing I have

against Dan is that he makes me work as hard as himself, and bosses

me around continually. At one of the dinners I said that if Dan Brady

had taken up the same kind of a job that I had, he would be a bishop

by now; but if he were my Bishop I’d be a Baptist or a Presbyterian;

in some Church anyway, that doesn’t have Bishops.

The part of our reception which I enjoyed most of all was the parade

up Fifth Avenue. The whole regiment shared in it, including the extra

battalion, seven hundred strong, of men who had been invalided home,

and others of our wounded who had a place of honor on the grandstand.

Archbishop Hayes, who had blessed us as we left the Armory, Mayor

Hylan, men prominent in State and City, in Army and Navy affairs,

united to pay their tribute of praise to the old regiment. And

thousands and thousands of people on the stands cheered and cheered

and cheered, so that for five miles the men walked through a din of

applause, till the band playing the American and Irish airs could

scarce be heard.

It was a deserved tribute to a body of citizen soldiers who had

played such a manful part in battle for the service of the Republic.

The appreciation that the country pays to its war heroes is for

the best interest of the State. I am not a militarist, nor keen

for military glory. But as long as liberties must be defended, and

oppression or aggression put down, there must always be honor paid to

that spirit in men which makes them willing to die for a righteous

cause. Next after reason and justice, it is the highest quality in

citizens of a state.

Our fathers in this republic, in their poverty and lowliness, founded

many institutions, ecclesiastical, financial, charitable, which

have grown stronger with the years. One of these institutions was

a military organization, which they passed on to us with the flag

of the fifty silver furls. To these we have added nine more in the

latest war of our country. As it was borne up the Avenue flanked by

that other banner whose stars of gold commemorated the six hundred

and fifty dead heroes of the regiment, and surrounded by three

thousand veterans, I felt that in the breasts of generous and devoted

youths that gazed upon them there arose a determination that if, in

their generation, the Republic ever needed defenders, they too would

face the perils of battle in their country’s cause.

Men pass away, but institutions survive. In time we shall all go to

join our comrades who gave up their lives in France. But in our own

generation, when the call came, we accepted the flag of our fathers;

we have added to it new glory and renown—and we pass it on.

HISTORICAL APPENDIX BY JOYCE KILMER

I

Fifth Avenue held a memorable crowd on the afternoon of the ninth of

March, 1917. There were old women there in whose eyes was the eager

light that only the thought of a son can cause to glow; there were

proud old men—some of them with battered blue garrison-caps, and

badges that told of service in the War between the States—there were

wives, mothers, children—all waiting, in jubilant and affectionate

expectation, the sound of a band playing “Garryowen” and the sight

of a flag fluttering from a pole so covered with battle-furls as to

glisten in the sunlight like a bar of silver.

The Sixty-ninth Regiment was back from the border. Escorted by its

old friend, the Seventh New York, the Regiment marched nearly eight

hundred strong, down the Avenue and east to the Armory. The crowd—or

a large part of it—followed, and soon families separated for months

were reunited. When the Sixty-ninth was mustered out of service that

March day, after months of arduous service on the Mexican Border,

it numbered 783 men. Almost immediately it lost some three hundred

officers and men. This was in accordance with War Department orders

and the National Defense Act of June 3rd, 1916, which provided that

men with dependant relatives should be discharged from the service.

Men were lost also because of the system, now discontinued, by which

a soldier in the National Guard was furloughed to the reserve after

three years of active service.

So in the early Spring of 1917, with participation in the European

War a certainty, the Sixty-ninth Regiment found itself far below

war strength, having lost a great number of men whom experience

and training had made ideal soldiers. At once a recruiting

campaign was instituted, but a recruiting campaign of a special

kind. The Sixty-ninth has never found it at all difficult to fill

its ranks—when it was under Southern fire in the Sixties it was

brought up to war strength nine times. But the purpose in view now

was to bring into the regiment men who would, in every purpose

and way—physically, mentally and morally—keep up its ancient and

honorable standards. It was easy enough to enlist hundreds of strong

men who could be developed into good soldiers. But this was not

the object of the recruiting of the Spring of 1917. It was desired

to enlist strong, intelligent, decent-living men, men whose sturdy

Americanism was strengthened and vivified by their Celtic blood, men

who would be worthy successors of those unforgotten patriots who at

Bloody Ford and on Marye’s Heights earned the title of “The Fighting

Irish.”

The Regiment set its own standards in selecting recruits. In weight,

for example, one hundred and twenty-eight pounds was established

as the minimum. And if some honest man with broad shoulders and a

knockout in each fist was unable to read ACXUROKY on a card hung

thirty feet away—why, the examining physicians were instructed not

to be overly meticulous in their work. But if the candidate, having

every physical perfection, seemed to be the kind of man who would

be out of harmony with the things for which the Sixty-ninth stands

and has always stood, then the rigorous application of some of the

qualifying tests invariably resulted in his rejection.

When, on April 6th, 1917, President Wilson declared that a state

of war existed between the United States and Germany, his words

found the Sixty-ninth Regiment ready, its ranks filled to war

strength with soldiers of whom the men who fought at Gettysburg and

Chancellorsville would not be ashamed. There was new intensity in the

nightly drills; there was new fervor in the resolve of every man,

veteran of the Border and recruit alike, to make the Regiment as

nearly perfect a fighting unit as possible.

The 6th of April is a date which no American soldier will forget. And

almost equally memorable is the 15th day of July of the same year—the

day on which the National Guard was called into Federal Service. The

Sixty-ninth regiment, 2002 strong, scarcely felt the heat of that

torrid midsummer, so intent were all the men on preparing themselves

for the great adventure, and so passionately eager were they for the

call to service over-seas.

On the 5th of August the Regiment, still retaining the numerical

designation which is permanently engraved upon the tablets of our

nation’s history, was drafted into the Regular Army of the United

States. This was a step nearer to the firing line—made, accordingly,

with enthusiasm. And on the 25th day of August came the electrifying

news that the Sixty-ninth Regiment had been selected as the first New

York National Guard organization to be sent to the war in vanguard of

the American Expeditionary Force.

The circumstances in which the announcement was made to the regiment

were striking. It was a boiling Saturday afternoon and officers and

men were exhausted from the exercises of the morning—a Divisional

inspection in Central Park. The regiment marched through the dusty

streets and ascended the steps into the Armory to learn that they

were not to be immediately dismissed, but were to stay on the drill

floor or in the Company rooms. Lieutenant Colonel Latham R. Reed had

gone to Governor’s Island to attend an important conference, and

officers and men were ordered to await his return. Everyone hopefully

awaited the arrival of splendid tidings, and the weariness seemed to

pass away.

When Lieutenant Colonel Reed returned, he called a meeting of his

staff and the Battalion and Company Commanders, and told them such

details as were then obtainable of the great honor which had come to

the regiment they loved. There were present Major William J. Donovan,

Major William B. Stacom, Major Timothy J. Moynahan, Captain George

McAdie, Captain Thomas T. Reilley, Captain William Kennelly, Captain

James A. McKenna, Jr., Captain Alexander E. Anderson, Captain Michael

A. Kelly, Captain James J. Archer, Captain James G. Finn, Captain

Van S. Merle-Smith, Captain John P. Hurley, and Captain William T.

Doyle. They heard the good news with undisguised delight and at once

proceeded to prepare for the necessary intensive training.

But as great as was their delight, it was clouded with one regret.

And that regret was felt also by every enlisted man. They all knew

that the Regiment had been the first selected to go abroad not

because of what it had done in the Civil War, nor because it was

representative of what was best in the citizenship of our nation’s

greatest city. It had been selected, after a long and searching

examination of the military resources of the country, because

its record in the most recent important test—the Mexican Border

Campaign—showed it to be the best trained and equipped fighting

unit that America possessed. And the man who had done more than all

others to bring the Regiment to this point, the man who during the

long strenuous months on the Border had moulded it after his own

ideal pattern of soldierly efficiency—that man was absent from the

conference at which was announced the momentous news. There was not

an officer in the conference room, there was not an enlisted man on

the drill floor that day, who did not think of Colonel William N.

Haskell—of the joy with which he would lead his beloved Regiment into

the Great War, of the joy with which that Regiment would follow him

across the ocean and over the parapet and through the German lines

to the Kaiser’s palace. There was not an officer or man who did not

recall his last words when he was ordered to another duty “I want to

lead the 69th Regiment into a fight.”

Colonel Haskell was absent from this historic conference. He had been

lent, not given to the Regiment, and now the Government claimed his

valuable services to solve some of the problems of the new National

Army. But he was present in spirit—in the thoughts of everyone in the

building and in the fitness he had given to the Regiment’s personnel.

Soon after the announcement that the Sixty-ninth Regiment was to be

one of the very first into battle it was learned that the Regiment

was to be brought up to a strength of 3500, according to the

scheme which the French military experts had developed from their

hard-bought experience with the conditions of modern warfare. It

would have been a task gratifying to the whole Regiment, including

Colonel Charles Hine, who now was placed in command, to build

up the Regiment to this size by means of the recruiting methods

which already had proved so successful. But it had been decided by

higher authorities that the Regiment’s numbers should be augmented

by additions from other New York National Guard organizations.

Accordingly, one day in August, 1917, there arrived at the armory

the first of the new increments—332 men from the 7th New York

Infantry.

The ties that bind the 7th and the 69th are ancient and strong. The

friendship between the two organizations has often been strikingly

manifested. It was much in evidence when the New York National Guard

was stationed on the Border. But it has never been displayed more

convincingly than on the day that the men from the 7th joined the

69th. Escorted to the doors of the armory by the rest of the 7th, led

by Colonel Willard C. Fisk, the men found the entire 69th Regiment

assembled to welcome them. They were made at home; they found it

no difficult task to orient themselves to their new surroundings.

Without any disloyalty to the venerable regiment they had left, they

accepted as their own the traditions and standards of the 69th and

became not a distinct group added to the Regiment but a vital part of

it.

On the 20th of August the 69th Regiment, now 2,500 strong, again

marched through New York, and again an enormous crowd witnessed and

followed the march. But this crowd, unlike that of the 9th of March

previous, was not composed of people rejoicing over a long-sought

reunion. The same men, women and children who had been present on the

9th of March to welcome the soldiers returning from the Rio Grande

were present and they were as proud as, or prouder than before. But

faces that had been happy were fearful now and the gestures were of

farewell. Wives and mothers looked at the bright ranks with smiling

anguish. The 69th was marching to the ferry to cross the East River

and entrain for Camp Albert L. Mills, near Mineola, New York. It was

the first move toward the front, to win new battle-rings for the pole

that saw Cold Harbor and Bloody Ford.

There were many new and strange experiences in store for the officers

and men during the period of intensive training on Hempstead Plains.

A carefully planned schedule provided for drill and instruction

enough to fill nearly every minute of the day. Much of the work was

repetition for those of the men who had seen service on the Border,

but they entered into it in a way that showed they thoroughly

appreciated its value. There was also training in those phases of

offensive and defensive warfare which have been developed since

August, 1914. This work came in for an especially large share of

attention. It was no longer a mere drill; it was active preparation

for the use of what is, in spite of trench mortar, cannon, bomb and

machine, the most effective weapon of modern warfare. The Regiment

was instructed in the use of the bayonet by reserve officers who

had acquired their knowledge from men with actual experience at the

front. Cold steel propelled by Irishmen was said to be what the

Germans chiefly feared and every effort was made to make sure that

the 69th should not, through lack of practice, be less skillful with

the bayonet than were the Dublin Fusileers and the Connaught Rangers.

Visitors to the camp who were so fortunate as to be present at the

bayonet drill were greatly impressed by the dexterity which the

soldiers had gained in a few weeks, and by the intense realism which

pervaded the exercise.

And now the Regiment gained, from day to day, the increments

necessary to bring it up to the prescribed war strength of 3500.

The men from the 7th had already been assimilated as privates and

non-commissioned officers; they had become an integral part of the

69th (for only on paper was the name 165th in use). The 23rd, 14th,

71st and 12th now sent their delegations.

In most cases, the selection of the men in the various armories was

made with perfect fairness, the prescribed number of sergeants,

corporals and privates being arbitrarily taken from the ranks. But in

certain companies it was soon evident that the officers had yielded

to the natural temptation to endeavor to retain in their commands

their best trained non-coms. Here was, for instance, a corporal to be

taken from Blank Company of the Dash Regiment. By strict adherence to

the letter of the law, Corporal Smith, a soldier of stainless record,

with three month’s Border service to his credit, should be the man to

entrain for Camp Mills. But here was Private Jones, a recent recruit,

not especially happy in the Dash Regiment and probably not likely

to be homesick for it if sent away. Why not let him sew a couple of

stripes on the sleeves of his new blouse, and go on his way rejoicing.

This is the way some Company Commanders reasoned. And as a result,

the 69th Regiment found that among its new members were some

Sergeants and Corporals whose military knowledge included little

more than the manual of arms, and privates who were physically,

morally, and mentally unfit for the service. It was not to be

expected that these men would be received with overwhelming

enthusiasm.

Many of the soldiers received from other regiments—most of them in

fact, were valuable additions to the 69th and at once proved their

usefulness by merging with the rest of the outfit and working for the

soldierly perfection of the whole body. Of the others—well, some of

them were reformed by thorough disciplinary action, and others were

allowed to drift back into civilian life by means of liberal use of

dependency and surgeon’s certificate of disability.

So many soldiers were lost of those acquired from other regiments

that although the time for sailing was almost at hand it was

considered advisable to institute another recruiting campaign. There

was no difficulty in gaining the desired number of recruits; the

prospect of immediate service in France with the most famous regiment

in America brought to the Armory doors three times as many candidates

as could be accepted.

Now the wives and mothers who thronged the dusty Company streets on

Saturday and Sunday afternoons began to show stronger anxiety, to

look with new intensity into the eyes of their soldiers as they bade

them farewell and returned to the city. For the time for sailing was

at hand—no one knew just when or just where the Regiment was going,

but all felt it was a question only of days or hours.

Twice secret orders to sail were received at Regimental Headquarters,

and twice these orders were hastily countermanded. The suspense began

to tell on officers and men, to tell even more, perhaps on those to

whom they had again and again to say good bye. At last, on the night

of October 25th, Major Donovan led the first battalion through the

dark camp and down the silent lanes to the long train that was to

take them to Montreal.

And now there were no crowds, there was no music. It was a journey

more momentous, greater in historical importance, than the Regiment’s

triumphant return from the Border, than its flower and flag decked

setting forth for Camp Mills. But it was not, like those memorable

events, a time for music and pomp. The feeling of the officers and

men was one of stern delight, of that strange religious exaltation

with which men of Celtic race and faith go into battle, whether the

arena be Vinegar Hill, Fontenoy, or Rouge Boquet. As the trainful of

happy warriors steamed through the first leagues of the journey to

the Front, Father Duffy, the Regiment’s beloved Chaplain, passed from

car to car hearing confessions and giving absolution. Rosaries—the

last dear gift of mothers and sweethearts—were taken out and by

squads, platoons and companies the soldiers told their beads. There

was little sleep on the 69th special for Montreal that night—officers

and men were too excited, too exalted for that. They had entered at

last on the adventure of their lives.

General O’Ryan had said that a soldier is a man who always wants

to be elsewhere than where he is. This is not true of soldiers of

the race to which General O’Ryan’s name indicates that he belongs.

They want to be elsewhere—only when they are in some peaceful place.

If the Regiment had been restless before, the second and third

Battalions were doubly so after they had seen four companies of their

comrades go away.

But they had not long to wait. On the night of October 29th, the

_America_ (formerly the _Amerika_ of the Hamburg-American line)

pulled out of New York Harbor. There was no khaki on her decks; the

only figures to be seen were sailors and deck-hands. But as soon as

the vessel was out of range of spying Teutonic eyes, soldiers poured

out of every hatchway. And as they thronged the deck-space available

and looked their last for a long time at the lights along the fast

receding shore, they showed a contentment, a mirth that amazed the

crew, long accustomed to transporting troops.

“What’s the matter with you fellows?” asked one sailor. “Ain’t you

sorry to be leaving your homes? Didn’t you ever hear there was such

things as submarines?” He had helped carry over all sort of soldiers,

he said, Regulars, Marines and Guardsmen, but he had never before

seen passengers so seemingly indifferent to the grief of leavetaking

and the perils of the wartime sea. He couldn’t understand it.

He might have been able to understand it if he had read Chesteron’s

“Ballad of the White Horse.” For in that wise poem is an explanation

of the psychology of the 69th New York, an explanation of the

singular phenomenon of soldiers leaving their dear ones and setting

out over menacing seas to desperate battle in a strange land as

merrily as if they were planning merely an evening at Coney Island.

Chesterton wrote:

“For the great Gaels of Ireland

Are the men that God made mad

For all their wars are merry

And all their songs are sad.”

II

The First Battalion’s voyage to France was more interesting than

that of the main body of the regiment or of Companies L and M, who

followed them in a few days. Sailing from Montreal on the _Tunisian_

at 8 on the morning of October 27th, they landed at Liverpool,

England, on November 10. There they entrained for Southhampton,

reaching that city late in the night. In the night of the 11th they

crossed the English Channel to Havre, and after a few hours’ rest

they were packed into open box-cars for their cold journey across

France. They detrained at Sauvoy on November 15.

The voyage of the good ship _America_ was made over a sea so

glassy-smooth that sea-sickness was an impossibility. The

boat-drills, the rules against smoking or showing lights on deck at

night and the constant watch for submarines (a work which was put

wholly in the hands of the 69th Regiment, and executed by them with

unflagging devotion) served to remind the men that, peaceful as the

blue water looked, they were actually in the war already.

The discomforts of a crowded ship could not daunt the spirits of the

men of the 69th. The dark holes far below the water-level in which

they were tightly packed rang with song and laughter every night

until taps sounded. There were concerts on deck and in the mess-room

every night, except when the ship’s course was through the danger

zone and silence was enforced. If there is left in the Atlantic Ocean

a mermaid who cannot now sing “Over There,” “Goodbye Broadway, Hello

France,” “Mother Machree,” and “New York Town,” it is not the fault

of the 69th New York.

And yet mirth was not the sole occupation of these soldiers,

exhilarated as they were by the prospects of battle. During the day,

one could find little groups gathered on hatchways and in corners,

studying, from little manuals they had bought, such subjects as the

new bayonet work and grenade throwing. The talk of the men was very

seldom of the homes and friends they had left behind, it was nearly

always of the prospect of battle. They talked of what front they

might be expected to hold, with what troops they might be trained,

and, above all, of how soon they were to go into action. They

discussed such methods and instruments of modern warfare as they knew

with the keen interest of those who are soldiers by their own choice.

Those who do not know the 69th Regiment would have been puzzled by

the spectacle presented by the main deck amidships every afternoon

and evening. There could be seen a line of soldiers, as long as the

mess-line, waiting their turn to go to confession to the Regimental

Chaplain, Father Francis P. Duffy. And every morning—not on Sundays

alone—there was a crowd at the same spot, where, on an altar resting

on two nail kegs, Father Duffy said Mass.

The voyage passed without any sight of hostile sea or aircraft, and

after two weeks the _America_ came to anchor in the beautiful harbor

of Brest. That is, it seemed a beautiful harbor at first, with its

long white quay and its miles of dark green shore picked out with

venerable gray stone buildings. But as day succeeded day with nothing

for the soldiers to do but tramp the decks and yearn for the feel of

sod under their hobnails, the view began to lose some of its beauty.

There were two weeks on the open sea—these soon passed. But the week

in Brest Harbor, in tantalizing sight of land, separated by only half

a mile of green evil-smelling stagnation from shops and cafes and

homes—that was cruel and unusual punishment.

When, after six days a detail for the hard work of loading freight

cars was formed, every man in the regiment volunteered—and this sort

of a detail usually is eagerly avoided. The volunteers who were

accepted had little to reward them except the pleasure of being

upon comparatively dry land. They were given no chance to taste the

delights of the seaside city. When their task of unloading and

loading baggage was finished, they and the rest of their shipmates

learned what “Hommes 36-40, Chevaux 8” meant. From 40 to 50 men

entered the waiting box-cars, with hard tack and canned corn-beef

(Corn Willie) to feed them, and their own blankets to protect them

from the hardness of the floors and the cold blasts that swept in at

the open sides.

Three days and three nights of such travelling as no soldier of the

69th can ever forget, and they were at the village of Sauvoy, in the

Department of Meuse. From this point a hike of some two hours brought

them to the tiny village of Naives-en-Blois. Here was to be the new

home of Regimental Headquarters, Headquarters Company, Supply Company

and Company B. The other companies (including those of the First

Battalion, which had arrived in the district on the fifteenth of the

month) were quartered in the nearby villages of Sauvoy, Bovée, Vacon,

Broussey and Villeroi.

The Regiment was put not in barracks, but in billets. Now billets,

to those of the men who had done guard duty in upper New York State

during the previous Spring, meant comfortable bedrooms, buckwheat

cakes with syrup for breakfast, and the society of good natured

farming people. But billeting in the European sense of the term,

meant something different, as they soon found out. It meant that

certain householders, in return for the payment of a few sous per

man per twenty-four hours, were obliged to allow soldiers to sleep

in their stables, barns or other outhouses. They were not obliged to

furnish any food, light or heat. They were not obliged even to mend

the roofs or walls of the shelters. Straw for filling bedsacks was

furnished to the soldiers, and they were fairly launched on their

first winter in France.

It was a winter of unprecedented severity. A freezing wind blew

through the great holes in the tumble-down sheds where the men slept,

covering them, night after night, with snow. They learned many

soldierly things. How to make blouse and overcoat supplement the thin

army blankets, for instance. How to keep shoes from freezing in the

night by sleeping on them. How to dress and undress in the dark—for

lamps were unknown and candles forbidden.

These things the soldiers taught themselves, or were taught by

circumstances during their stay in Naives-en-Blois and environs.

Their work consisted of close order drill, guard duty, and the

thorough and much needed policing of the ancient village street.

Now, Naives was near the front—so near that the guns could clearly be

heard when the wind blew in the right direction. This was cheering

for the men, but as there were indications of a strengthening of the

German lines at this point, with a possible view to an offensive, it

was necessary to use the district for troops whose training had been

completed; and, according to the new European standards, that of the

69th had not yet begun. So it was necessary for the Regiment—indeed,

for the whole 42nd Division, which then had its headquarters in the

nearby city of Vaucouleurs—to give place to seasoned French troops.

So the men made their packs, the wagons were loaded, and the Regiment

changed station from the 4th to the 5th area.

After two days of hiking (very easy hiking it seemed, in the light

of later experiences) the Regiment arrived, on December 13, in the

historic town of Grand. Here, centuries before, the conquering Romans

had encamped, one hundred thousand strong. The ruins of the mighty

ampitheatre that they built still stands, and the tower of the great

church was once part of a fort. It was Caesar himself who planned

the broad roads on which our Regiment drilled, and Caesar’s soldiers

who made them. In this venerable church Father Duffy said midnight

Mass on Christmas, and all the town came to see these strange,

gentle, brave, mirthful, pious American soldiers, who, coming from

a new land to fight for France, practiced France’s ancient faith

with such devotion. The Regimental colors were in the chancel,

flanked by the tricolor. The 69th band was present, and some French

soldier-violinists. A choir of French women sang hymns in their own

language, the American soldiers sang a few in English, and French and

American joined in the universal Latin of “Venite, Adoremus Dominum.”

It was a memorable Midnight Mass—likely to be remembered longer even

than that which Father Duffy had said on the Mexican Border just a

year previous, which troops for fifty miles around had crossed the

prairies to attend.

Now it was considered advisable for the Division to proceed to

the 6th area. This meant a hike of some four days and nights.

Accordingly, at 8 on the morning of December 26th, the Regiment

passed through the main street of Grand and out over the ancient

Roman road.

This hike has become so famous—or so infamous—because of the

undeniable sufferings of those who took part in it that it needs

no detailed description here. It must by any impartial historian

be admitted that during it the men of the 69th Regiment were

insufficiently fed and shod, that they endured great and unnecessary

pains and privations. It must also be admitted that they bore these

trials with a cheerfulness which amazed the French civilians through

whose villages they passed, accustomed as were these people to

soldiers of almost every human race. They would crush their bleeding

feet into their frozen, broken-soled hobnails of a black morning,

and breakfastless start out, with a song on their lips, to climb the

foothills of the Vosges Mountains through the heart of a blizzard. At

noon (shifting their feet about to keep the blood moving) they would

(if it was one of the lucky days) have a slice of bread or two pieces

of hardtack for noon mess. At night they would have a sleep instead

of supper. But they were never dispirited; they were never too cold,

too hungry or too weary to sing or to teach the innocent French

villagers strange bits of New York slang.

No man in the 69th Regiment “fell out” during that terrible hike.

But many fell down. That is, no one, because of heart-breaking

weariness, or faintness or lameness went to the roadside and waited

for the ambulance to pick him up. Those who finished the journey in

ambulances or trucks did so because they had fallen senseless in the

deep snow, unable to speak or move. And wherever the Regiment passed

there were bloody tracks in the white roadway.

“That hike made Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow look like a Fifth

Avenue parade,” said one of the medical officers serving during this

period. And many an observer compared the Regiment to Washington’s

foot-sore soldiers at Valley Forge. It was only the indomitable

spirit of the Irish American fighting man that kept the Regiment

afoot through those four tragic days.

The Regiment that arrived in Longeau on the afternoon of December

29th looked different from the Regiment that had left Grand four days

before. To judge them by their gait and their faces, the men had aged

twenty years. But their hearts were unchanged. As they stood in the

deep snow, the ice-crusted packs still on their bruised shoulders,

they had a laughing word for every pretty face at a Longeau window.

The weary bandsmen started a defiant air, and the Regiment joined in

with a roar. The song was “The Good Old Summertime.”

III

Longeau, which with the surrounding villages constituted the

Regiment’s new home, is a small farming town in the Haute Marne

District. Unlike those of Naives, its houses are strongly built and

in excellent preservation, and the billets in which (awaiting the

completion of barracks) the troops were stationed were dry, warm and

comfortable. As soon as possible, the Regiment moved into the new

barracks built in the outskirts of Longeau and nearby villages, and

was thus more nearly consolidated than it had previously been since

its arrival in France.

In Longeau, the 69th Regiment was destined to receive much more

practical training for the trenches than it had received in Camp

Mills, Naives or Grand. These last two towns had really been

merely stopping places, Longeau was a training camp. The most

important event of the stay in Longeau was the advent of Colonel

John W. Barker. Colonel Hine was withdrawn from his post with the

regiment early in January, in order that he might take part in the

transportation work for which he was especially fitted. He was

succeeded on January 12th by Colonel John W. Barker, National Army.

Colonel Barker was an up-state New Yorker, who graduated from West

Point in the class of ’09. He had served in the Regular Infantry ever

since in Cuba, the Philippines and on the Mexican Border. He saw

considerable active service against the Indians, after taking part in

almost the last of the Indian fight at Leach Creek, Minnesota.

Four years ago, he was recommended by his arm of the service to

represent the Infantry for one year’s duty with a French Infantry

Regiment. He was in France on this duty when the great war broke

out, and remained as a member of our military organization until

the arrival of the American Expeditionary Forces. Then he joined

the staff of the Commander in Chief as General Staff Officer, 5th

Section. He served General Headquarters in this capacity until

personally selected by the Commander in Chief to command the 165th

Infantry.

Now the regiment began to take the form of a modern fighting

organization. It was Colonel Barker’s task to bring it into

conformation with the new Tables of Organization, and to this task

the best energies of himself and his staff were immediately devoted.

The specialized platoons (pioneers, trench mortar, one pound cannon)

were now organized and intensively trained. Competent enlisted men

from these platoons were sent to the schools newly established by

General Headquarters and given the advantage of instruction by

officers who had gained their knowledge of the subjects in actual

warfare conditions. Hand grenades were supplied, and every man taught

their effective use. Steel helmets now replaced the historic felt

campaign hats. To every man were issued two gas masks, one French

gas mask and one English box respirator. By means of constant drill

in the rapid adjustment of these masks, under the direction of an

officer who had specialized in the subject, the men acquired a

proficiency in their use which saved many a life in the Lunéville and

Baccarat Sectors and during the weeks of desperate fighting on the

banks of the Suippes and the Marne.

It was during the stay in Longeau that the 69th Regiment organized

its Intelligence Section, the first in the 42nd Division. Under the

direction of the Regimental Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant Basil

B. Elmer, U. S. R., there was organized and trained a group of

scouts, observers, map-makers and snipers so expert in detecting and

hindering the movements of the enemy that they were several times, in

the course of the action that came later, asked to attach themselves

permanently to the Headquarters of the 42nd Division, in order that

they might serve as instructors to the other regimental intelligence

sections.

There were several changes in the personnel of the Regiment’s

administrative staff. Lieutenant Colonel Reed had been selected for

Staff College, and the Regiment never got him back. Captain William

Doyle, who had served as Regimental Adjutant in Camp Mills, had

been relieved while the regiment was in Naives-en-Blois, and his

place taken by Captain Alexander E. Anderson, long in command of

Company E. Now Captain Anderson was relieved as Adjutant and placed

in command of Headquarters Company. Its former commander, Captain

Walter E. Powers, for several years Adjutant of the Regiment, went

to the Headquarters of the 42nd Division, leaving an enviable record

for absolute efficiency in company and regimental administration.

His abilities were soon recognized by his commission as Major and

appointment as Divisional Adjutant. Captain Doyle was attached to

Brigade Headquarters. Captain Anderson’s work was taken over by

Lieutenant William F. McKenna, who was appointed Acting Adjutant, an

office which he had filled during part of the Border campaign.

The training of officers and men never flagged while the Regiment was

stationed in Longeau. Battalion and company commanders, Lieutenants

and enlisted men were sent for brief periods to the special schools

instituted by General Headquarters for their benefit, and on their

return imparted to others the knowledge they had gained. There were

lectures and quizzes every evening in the barracks, supplementary to

the instruction received every morning and afternoon in the drill

field and on the range. A number of American officers who had seen

service at the front were now attached to the Regiment, and their

first hand information gave new actuality to the daily work.

The training of the Regiment for the action in which they were soon

to take part received new and strong impetus during the month of

February by the arrival in camp of the 32nd Battalion of Chasseurs.

These famous French soldiers, who had been in violent action ever

since 1914, proved to be the most useful instructors for the men of

the 69th. On the range and during the long hours of grenade throwing

and open and trench warfare practice, their instruction, example and

companionship was a constant incentive to the American soldiers. And

it was a proud day for the 69th Regiment when its soldiers perceived

that in rifle marksmanship and in grenade throwing they had

succeeded in proving their superiority to their veteran instructors.

From February 7th to February 13th the Regiment took part in

manoeuvres in which it was opposed by the 166th Infantry. These

manoeuvres took place in the hilly country around Longeau and had

as their ultimate objective the seizure and holding of the town of

Brennes. This difficult strategic task was eventually accomplished.

Now the desire of the men for immediate participation in the action,

the lure of which had drawn them across the ocean, was so strong as

to amount to an obsession. It was evident to any competent observer

that the whole Division was ready to render valuable service, as

thoroughly trained as any unit in the American contingent. This was

evidently the opinion of those who directed the movement of American

troops, for on February 16th, 17th and 18th the Regiment marched to

Langres, under orders to entrain for the city of Lunéville, in the

Department of Meurthe-et-Moselle, for training with French troops in

the line—that is, for actual duty in the trenches.

Lunéville was the largest town in which the Regiment had been

stationed since its arrival in France. Some of the companies were

put in billets, and some in the Stanislas Barracks, a magnificent

stone building in the center of the town. Regimental Headquarters was

established in the Stanislas Palace, a building which had previously

housed the Administrative staffs of some of the French regiments who

since 1914 had done brilliant work in retarding the German advance.

Now the Regiment was placed under the tactical orders of the General

commanding the 164th Division of the French Army, the Division then

occupying what was known as the Lunéville Sector. On February 21st,

the 1st and 2nd Battalions, Headquarters Company and Machine Gun

Company paraded in the central square of Lunéville and were reviewed

by Major General Bassilière, then commander of the 17th French Army

Corps. A few days later, the Regiment was made happy by learning

that orders to go to the front had been received. On February 27th

and 28th respectively, Companies D and B marched to their posts in

the front line trenches, relieving companies of the 15th Group of

Chasseurs of the French Army.

And now came a chapter in the history of the 69th Regiment which

blotted out from the minds of officers and men all the hard work of

the Camp Mills training period, all the privations and discomforts of

the ocean trip and the journey across blizzard-beleagured France. The

69th was actually in the fighting—it was called “a period of training

in the trenches,” but it was no time of sham-battles and manoeuvres.

It was, in fact, an initiation into battle, by way of what was (up to

the time of the 42nd Division’s entry into it) a quiet sector.

A “quiet sector” is one in which the German and French lines are

separated from each other by a considerable distance—sometimes as

much as five kilometers—in which there is no immediate objective for

which the troops on either side are striving, in which, finally,

shots are seldom fired, the opposing forces being content merely to

hold their trenches almost undisturbed. These are also termed “rest

sectors,” and the task of holding them is given either to troops

wearied by participation in great battles or to troops fresh from the

drill field and lacking in experience in actual warfare.

Nothing could have been more idyllic than the

Rouge-Bouquet-Chaussailles Subsector of the Lunéville Sector when

Company D marched to its strong point before dawn on the morning of

February 27th. The subsector is heavily wooded and almost clear of

underbrush. As the company marched up the hill through groves of

birch, pine, spruce, and fir, and saw to right and left little summer

houses, benches, tables and dugout entrances elaborately decorated

with rustic woodwork they were rather shocked by the idyllic beauty

of what they saw. Not for service in such a recreation park had they

crossed the seas. Where were the bursting shells, where was the

liquid fire, where were the bayonets of the charging Boches? This

series of outposts joined by little ditches seemed at first too much

like Central Park to satisfy the battle-hungry soldiers of the 69th.

The impression of absolute peacefulness was further emphasized in

the course of a thorough reconnaissance of the subsector made on the

morning of the 27th by the Regimental Intelligence Section. They

stepped across a ditch and learned that they had passed the front

line trenches—had gone “over the top.” They wandered about what

seemed to be a deserted pasture and learned that they were in No

Man’s Land.

But this tranquillity was not long to endure. The “Fighting Irish”

lived up to their reputation—they “started something” at once.

Rifles were cracking merrily before Company D’s men had been at

their posts for half an hour. And by dusk on the evening of the

27th, Corporal Arthur Trayer and Private John Lyons of Company D had

earned the distinction of being the first soldiers of the Regiment to

be wounded. A high explosive shell burst on striking the roof of a

shack in which they were resting, and the fragments wounded them—not

seriously, but enough to warrant sending them to a hospital for a few

weeks and later awarding them the coveted wound chevrons.

By the night of the 27th the Chaussaille-Rouge Bouquet Subsector had

lost much of its reputation for quietness. The Germans may not have

known as yet that Americans were in the trenches opposite them, but

they knew at any rate that some new and aggressive unit had taken

over the line, and they felt in duty bound to show that they were not

in the trenches entirely for a rest curé. So the fight was on.

Regimental Headquarters took over the Regimental Post of Command

at Arbre Haut on March 3rd. Company A occupied Strong Point Rouge

Bouquet from March 1st to March 7th, Company E from March 7th to

13th, Company L from March 13th to March 21st. Company B occupied

Strong Point Chaussailles from March 1st to March 6th, Company H from

March 6th to March 12th, Company K from March 12th to March 22nd.

Company D occupied Strong Point Sorbiers from March 1st to March 5th,

Company F from March 5th to March 11th, Company I from March 11th to

March 17th, Company M from March 17th to March 22nd.

There were many minor casualties during the early part of this

period, but nothing of a really tragic nature occurred until March

7th. Then came a calamity which would have broken the morale of

any regiment less high-spirited than this, so sudden was it and so

lamentable.

On that unforgettable Wednesday, all was quiet as if there were no

war until exactly 3.20 in the afternoon. Then the enemy started

a barrage of minnewerfer shells. Interspersed with 77s they fell

steadily and thick for about an hour. One shell fell directly on

the roof of a dugout in Rocroi—an old dugout, built by the French

four years before. In it were 21 men and one officer—1st Lieutenant

John A. Norman of Company E. All were buried in the broken earth and

beams, and some were at once killed. Two men were sitting on the edge

of the upper bunk in one of the rooms—a falling beam crushed the head

of one and left the other uninjured.

At once a working party was organized and began to dig the soldiers

from their living grave. There was bombardment after bombardment,

but the men kept at work, and eventually they dug out two men alive

and five dead. There were living men down in that pit—their voices

could be heard, and they were struggling toward the light. Lieutenant

Norman could be heard encouraging them and guiding the efforts of

their bruised and weary hands and feet. Several times they were at

the surface and willing hands were out-stretched to draw them to

safety—when well-aimed shells plunged them down again into that place

of death. At last, after almost superhuman efforts on the part of men

from Company E and from the pioneer platoon of Headquarters Company,

after deeds of heroism, brilliant but unavailing, the work was

discontinued. The bodies of fourteen men and one officer still lay in

that ruined dugout—it was unwise, in view of the constant bombardment

of it, to risk the lives of more men in digging for them. So a tablet

was engraved and erected above the mound, the last rites of the

church were celebrated by Father Duffy, and the place where the men

had fought and died became their grave.

After March 7th, no one called the Rouge Bouquet-Chaussailles Sector

a rest park, no one complained that it was too peaceful to make them

know they were at war. Not only the front line sector but the reserve

position at Grand Taille and the road leading from the Battalion

Post of Command at Rouge Bouquet to Regimental Headquarters at

Arbre Haut were bombarded every day. But the Regiment held the line

with undiminished zeal, and gave the enemy an experience novel in

this sector in the shape of a _Coup de Main_ on the night of March

20th. Of this adventure, the first of many of the kind in which the

regiment was to take part, a brief, accurate account is to be found

in the citation of its leader, 1st Lieutenant Henry A. Bootz, (later

Captain of Company C), by the Seventh French Army Corps.

His citation reads: “In the course of a raid, led a combat group

into the enemy’s lines, going beyond the objective assigned, and

recommenced the same operation eight hours later, giving his men an

example of the most audacious bravery. Returned to our lines carrying

one of his men severely wounded.”

It is a matter of no military importance but of deep interest to

everyone who sympathizes with the 69th Regiment and knows its

history and traditions, that when the raiding party marched up past

Regimental Headquarters on their way to the trenches, there fluttered

from the bayonet of one of the men a flag—a green flag marked in

gold with the harp that has for centuries been Ireland’s emblem—the

harp without the crown—and inscribed “Erin Go Bragh!” This flag had

been given to Sergeant Evers of the Band and by a stranger—an old

woman who burst through the great crowd that lined the streets when

the Regiment marched from the armory to the dock on their journey to

Camp Mills and, crying and laughing at the same time, thrust it into

his hands. The flag went “over the top” twice that night, and for

memory’s sake the name “Rouge Bouquet” was embroidered on it. Later,

the embroidered names became so numerous that the design of the flag

almost disappeared. Who the woman was who gave the Regiment this

appropriate tribute is unknown. Perhaps it was Kathleen in Houlihan

herself.

It was natural that this brilliant and utterly unexpected _Coup de

Main_ should have the effect of irritating our country’s enemy. It

did so, and the result was a dose of “Schrecklichkeit” which at first

threatened to prove more serious than the fatal bombardment of the

dugout in Rouge Bouquet. It came on the days of the raid—March 20th

and March 21st. The French soldiers had been inclined to make light

of the 69th Regiment’s elaborate precautions against gas-attacks,

of the constant wearing of the French gas mask and the English box

respirator at the alert position (the respirator bound across the

soldier’s chest ready for immediate use) when in the trenches. The

Germans, they said, could not send cloud or projector gas through

Rocroi Woods, and their last gas shell attack had been made three

years before. Why take such precautions against an improbable danger?

But the French officers and men saw the wisdom of the Regiment’s

precautionary measures after March 20th and 21st. For on these dates

occurred a gas attack of magnitude unprecedented in this sector, in

which the French casualties far outnumbered those of the Americans.

The gas sent over in shells that burst along the road from Arbre Haut

to the Battalion Post of Command and along the trenches and outposts

from Chaussailles to Rouge Bouquet were filled with mustard-gas,

which blinded the men and bit into their flesh, and poisoned all

blankets, clothing and food that was within the range of its baneful

fumes. There were four hundred casualties in the Regiment on those

two nightmare-like days—four hundred men, that is, who were taken,

blind and suffering, from the fateful forest to the hospital in

Lunéville and thence to Vittel and other larger centers for expert

medical treatment. Most of these men were from Company K, others from

Company M and Headquarters Company. But only two men were immediately

killed by the gas, and of the four hundred who went to the hospital

only three died—of broncho-pneumonia resulting from the action of the

gas on their lungs. To their careful training in the use of the gas

mask, the men owed the preservation of their lives in an attack which

was intended to destroy all of the battalion then in the line.

A volume could be filled with a record of the heroism displayed by

the officers and men of the 69th Regiment during these two days and

nights of violent bombardment. The French authorities overwhelmed

the Regiment with congratulations and awards. And surely the Croix

de Guerre never shone upon breasts more worthy of it than those of

First Lieutenant George F. Patton, of the Sanitary Detachment, who,

standing in the center of a storm of mustard-gas, coolly removed his

mask in order to give a wounded soldier the benefit of his medical

attention, or that of First Lieutenant Thomas Martin of Company K,

who, when every other officer of his company had been taken away to

the hospital, took command of the unit and held the sector through

forty-eight hours of almost incessant bombardments. The French

Division commander bestowed the Croix de Guerre on Col. Barker, with

the following citation:

“Commands a regiment noticeable for its discipline and fine conduct

under fire. Has given his troops an example of constant activity

and has distinguished himself especially on the 20th of March by

going forward under a violent barrage fire to assure himself of

the situation and of the state of morale of one of his detachments

starting on a raid into the enemy’s lines.”

[Illustration: 165 U.S. INF. 1917-1919]

APPENDIX

NEW FURLS ON REGIMENTAL STAFF

LUNÉVILLE SECTOR, February 21 to March 23, 1918.

BACCARAT SECTOR, April 1 to June 21, 1918.

ESPERANCE-SOUAIN SECTOR, July 4 to July 14, 1918.

CHAMPAGNE-MARNE DEFENSIVE, July 15 to July 18, 1918

AISNE-MARNE OFFENSIVE, July 25 to August 3, 1918

ST. MIHIEL Offensive, September 12 to September 16, 1918.

ESSEY and PANNES Sector. Woevre, September 17 to September 30, 1918.

ARGONNE-MEUSE OFFENSIVE, October 13 to October 31, 1918

ARGONNE-MEUSE OFFENSIVE LAST PHASE, November 5, to November 9,

1918.

LOSSES IN ACTION

Killed: 644 Wounded: 2,857. Total: 3,501.

Kilometers gained: 55.

Headquarters: 83 different places.

Number of days in contact with the enemy: 180.

LIST OF DECORATIONS[6]

DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS WITH PALM

Colonel

William J. Donovan

DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS

Lieut.-Colonels

Timothy J. Moynahan

Charles A. Dravo

Majors

James A. McKenna (Deceased)

Michael A. Kelly

Thomas T. Reilley

Van S. Merle-Smith

Captains

Richard J. Ryan

Louis A. Stout

First Lieutenants

James B. McIntyre

William M. Spencer

John J. Williams

Second Lieutenants

Oliver Ames (Deceased)

James S. D. Burns (Deceased)

John J. Burke

Andrew Ellett

Chaplains

Francis P. Duffy

James M. Hanley

George R. Carpentier

Sergeants

Co. C, Joseph W. Burns

Co. A, John J. Dennelly

Co. D, Joseph J. Lynch

Co. C, Thomas P. O’Hagan

Co. D, John J. Gribbon

Co. B, Spiros Thomas

Co. H, Bernard Finnerty (Deceased)

Co. H, Eugene J. Sweeney

Co. A, Thomas J. Sweeney

Co. I, Michael A. Donaldson

Co. C, Thomas O’Kelly

Co. Hq., Thomas E. Fitzsimmons

Co. K, John J. McLoughlin

Co. M, John McLoughlin

Co. M, G. Frank Gardella (Deceased)

Co. M G, John F. Flint

Co. H, Martin J. Higgins

Co. San, Victor L. Eichorn

Co. M G, Peter Gillespie

Co. K, Edward J. Rooney

Co. I, Edward T. Shanahan

Co. K, Herbert A. McKenna

Co. D, Richard W. O’Neill

Co. C, Michael Ruane

Co. H, Dudley Winthrop

Co. A, Martin Gill

Co. A, Matthew Kane

Co. C, Archibald F. Reilly

Co. C, Harry C. Horgan

Co. H, Patrick Travers

Co. C, William McCarthy

Co. K, Peter J. Crotty (Deceased)

Co. H, William O’Neill (Deceased)

Co. C, Michael Cooney

Co. L, Michael Fitzpatrick

Co. D, Michael J. McAuliffe

Corporals

Co. C, Thomas F. O’Connor (Deceased)

Co. M G, William J. Murphy

Co. C, Frederick Craven

Co. D, William P. White

Co. E, Frederick Gluck (Deceased)

Co. K, Victor Van Yorx

Co. M, James E. Winestock

Co. C, John Hammond

Co. B, Matthew J. Brennan

Wagoner Supply Co.

Albert Richford

Privates

Co. K, William J. Bergen (Deceased)

Co. G, Edmund Riordan (Deceased)

Co. G, John McGeary (Deceased)

Co. M, Robert Riggsby

Co. D, Edward G. Coxe (Deceased)

Co. K, Burr Finkle

Co. H, Patrick Reynolds (Deceased)

Co. C, John Teevan

DISTINGUISHED SERVICE MEDAL

Chaplain

Francis P. Duffy

LEGION OF HONOR

Brigadier General

Frank R. McCoy

Colonel

William J. Donovan

Lieutenant Colonel

Timothy J. Moynahan

Major

Michael A. Kelly

First Lieutenant

William Maloney

MEDAILLE MILITAIRE

Sergeant

Co. I, Michael A. Donaldson

Corporals

Co. A, Matthew A. Kane

Co. K, Burr Finkle

Private

Co. M, Robert Riggsby

CROCE DI GUERRA (ITALIAN)

Colonel

William J. Donovan

Sergeant

Co. C, Michael Ruane

CROIX DE GUERRE

Brigadier Generals

Frank R. McCoy

John W. Barker

Colonel

William J. Donovan

Lieutenant Colonels

Charles A. Dravo

Timothy J. Moynahan (Two Citations)

Majors

Henry A. Bootz

Michael A. Kelly

Captains

Henry K. Cassidy

Oscar L. Buck

Kenneth Ogle

Charles D. Baker (Deceased)

Beverly H. Becker

First Lieutenants

John Norman (Deceased)

Thomas C. P. Martin

George F. Patton

Second Lieutenants

Arthur S. Booth

W. Arthur Cunningham

Henry W. Davis (Deceased)

Raymond H. Newton