CAMP DIX
Most of you saw it for the first time when you rolled into the long
train shed, and hiked up to your barracks through a mile or more of
company streets, in a city of forty thousand men, the hundreds of large
barracks already weatherbeaten with the snows and rains of winter.
We, however, after changing trains several times, finally rolled up
to what was apparently a piano box in a lumber yard, and were there
assured by the conductor that this was Camp Dix. We tumbled off, and
trudged away through six inches of New Jersey dust toward the only
building in sight with a roof on it--camp headquarters. Our bags became
heavier and heavier; our new uniforms were fearfully hot; our new shoes
and puttees, with which we had been dazzling admiring womenfolks and
causing menfolk to grunt with assumed indifference, were abominably
tight and pinchy.
Finally we straggled in to headquarters, to indulge for a couple of
hours in that amusement so familiar to every man in the army--standing
in line for an hour to do two minutes of red tape. When our turn was
over, we went over to a partially completed barracks, where we were
each allowed to appropriate 1 cot, iron. This was the limit of our
accommodation--those who couldn’t get away to some nearby town slept on
the soft side of a piece of bristol board. We walked to the ether side
of camp for all our meals--about two miles, if you didn’t lose your way.
The next morning we attended a rollcall at 9 A. M. There we met Col.
Marcus B. Stokes, the commanding officer; and Lt. Col. Edgar Myer,
second in command. We found that the officers from Madison Barracks,
Cos. 5 and 6, with half of the Troop formed the nucleus of the new
regiment.
Capt. Odom was Regimental Adjutant and to my horror I was at once made
Regimental Supply Officer. The following officers were assigned to “B”
company:
Capt. Russell H. Brennan, commanding company,
2d Lt. Roy A. Schuyler,
2d Lt. Fred S. Fish,
2d Lt. Wm. D. Ashmore.
For a month the regiment went through the agonies of organization.
Supplies came in by driblets; transportation there was none, save for
two hopelessly over-worked motor truck companies, which put in half
their time trying to separate their trucks from the sacred soil of
Jersey. A great swarm of civilian workmen were toiling feverishly to
get up the barracks. The regiment was moved four times in as many
weeks. The roads were six inches deep in mud or dust.
The first enlisted men in the regiment were three former candidates at
Madison Barracks, who, through no fault of their own, had not received
commissions, but who wouldn’t leave the bunch, and enlisted in the
regiment,--Dave Gardenier, Art McCann, and Jimmie Hooker. McCann and
Gardenier were made regimental sergeants major, and Hooker was my
regimental supply sergeant.
In about a week a number of men came in from various Regular Army
regiments, to form a nucleus of N. C. O.’s. “B” company received
Ertwine, Robbins, and J. M. Newell. These men were shortly afterward
made corporals on recommendation of Capt. Brennan.
From Sept. 19th to Sept. 22d, the men of the first draft came in.
As Supply Officer, my own troubles kept me pretty busy during those
strenuous days. I knew “B” company, however, as a good outfit. Capt.
Brennan’s steady, methodical, tireless work, and the energy and
devotion of his three lieutenants showed results from the first. Lt.
Fish, a former National Guard officer, was an old hand and steadied the
younger officers.
After two months of hard work, the companies began to round out into
some sort of shape. The non-commissioned officers were selected,
with as much care as was possible in the limited time allowed for
observation of the new men. The first top sergeant of “B” Co. was
Eilert, a sturdy and sterling product of the first draft, who had
been a foreman in a large factory. The “top” is, absolutely, the most
essential man in a company. His position is such that he has to see to
the carrying out of all the disagreeable orders, and making the details
for all the dirty jobs, while at the same time he is not protected by
any barrier of rank. He is usually cordially detested and thoroughly
respected by the men, and is about as useful to the officers as a right
hand. We never had a top in “B” Co. who was not absolutely loyal to
the service and to the company commander; never one who shrank from
the most disagreeable duty, nor who gave a thought to his personal
popularity. They were human, of course, and made mistakes like the rest
of us; and sometimes they couldn’t help being placed in a bad light to
the men. But you men--some of you, even, who beefed most against the
tops--if you only knew how many times that same top came to the company
commander or other officers to help out this fellow or that, to suggest
some way of making things easier for the whole company; if you knew
how hard and thankless a job they held; possibly you would have been a
little more lenient in your judgments.
James McC. Newell was the first supply sergeant, and got away with
everything not nailed down. Samuel Tritapoe was Mess Sgt. until Lt.
Wagner recognized his ability and took him for a regimental supply
sergeant, and Warren Sculthorp succeeded to this thankless but highly
important job. The other sergeants, as well as I remember, were
Ertwine, Perry, Anness and Robbins. Joe Levy was soon drafted by
Newell to make the accounts balance; Harold Sculthorpe started on his
culinary career; Sweeney, Rogers, Tom Viracola, Howard Lehy, Hayden and
Long Bill Reid were corporals. Sutton and Weber were detailed at the
regimental exchange where they were a great factor in making it the
best in the division. And last, but not least, deBruin was man of all
work and plumber-in-chief. Red Sheridan also started his lurid career
with “B” Co., and helped deBruin and “Bugs” Wardell to dispose of the
vanilla extract rations.
Toward the middle of October, Lt. Foulkes arrived from Cambridge,
Mass., where he had been sent for a special course in trench warfare.
He was assigned to B Co., and remained as second in command until he
was made battalion adjutant in July 1918.
Now started in the era of transfers. New drafts were constantly coming
in; and as soon as we would get them uniformed and able to negotiate a
“Squads Right” without losing each other, they would be drawn away to
fill up some other division destined for overseas duty before the 78th.
Not once, but a dozen times between September and May did this happen,
leaving the company with its officers and a skeleton of N. C. O.’s,
cooks and orderlies.
On December 6th, Capt. Brennan and I were interchanged, he taking over
the Supply Company and I, “B” Co.
The winter wore on, and spring was upon us, and we seemed no nearer
France than before. Changes took place in officers as well as enlisted
men. Lt. Ashmore went to “A” Co.; Lt. Fish to the Supply Co.; 2d Lts.
Dunn and Merrill and 1st Lt. Vanderbilt took their places with “B”
Co. The time was filled with training and equipping the ever changing
quotas of recruits and drilling them in fundamentals; for the training
cadre of officers and N. C. O.’s there were special courses in bayonet
fighting, bombing, trench digging--how many cold and weary hours were
swallowed up in that trench system east of the regimental area!--and
ever and always wind, mud and snow, or wind, sun and dust.
When the March drafts came in, rumors took a new lease on life. The
77th division was being equipped to leave Camp Upton; our turn would
probably come next. The transfers went out now to fill up, not other
divisions, but our own artillery regiments across the parade ground.
Work on the target range was increased. Ah, the joys of being routed
out of the hay long before daybreak, snatching a hasty breakfast, and
hiking off through the cold dawn, five miles through the barrens to
that wind-swept waste with the long rows of targets.
1st Sgt. Eilert and Supply Sgt. Newell had been selected to attend the
officers’ training school. Sgt. Ertwine, who had shown exceptional
ability while in charge of the recruits’ barracks, was made 1st Sgt.,
and Joe Levy, of course, became Supply Sgt.
It was not all work and no play, though. At night there were movies at
the “Y” huts; the Post Exchange for those who had something left from
insurance, allotments and other ornaments of the pay roll,--or who were
gifted enough to fill a full house or roll a “natural” consistently.
And on Saturday afternoon and Sunday the lucky 25% would be off for
a few precious hours at home or in the city, while the camp would be
filled with visitors to the less fortunate.
April passed, and May arrived with green trees and warm days. We bought
baseball equipment, and each company had a team (I wonder who got hold
of all that stuff finally?). The April drafts had brought the companies
above normal strength. Tents were put up in the company streets to
accommodate the overflow.
These were busy days for Supply Sgt. Levy and Cpl. Jimmie Jones,
Company Clerk. There was a continuous procession in and out the
door of the squad room where Levy had established his headquarters;
recruits going in with blissful visions of emerging in the likeness of
a magazine ad. soldier; departing with murder in their hearts because
their trousers bagged at the knees. And Joe, who remembered last
September when recruits would bum around for a month before getting a
sign of a uniform, had scant sympathy with them.
This was also an era of reports. Reports on how many men we had;
how many shirts each man had; how many extra shoe-laces were in our
possession; how many men had W. R. insurance; how many were yet to be
inoculated and how many times. Twice a day did I have to report for
officers’ meeting; twice a day would the Colonel hold forth on the
reports the general wanted, which company commanders would prepare at
once, personally, in writing; then the adjutant would begin on the
reports the colonel wanted; then the supply officer would chime in with
a few more that he had to have by six o’clock at the latest. Life was a
veritable nightmare of typewritten figures. The supply sergeant of “L”
company actually lost his mind under the strain. Drill was carried on
in the intervals of lining up for another check or inspection. And the
men, quite naturally, looked upon the officers as a set of lunatics who
didn’t know their own minds for ten minutes at a time.
About May 1st, an advance party of some 25 officers and men left
the regiment, so we knew we were soon to follow. Lts. Schuyler and
Merrill were in this party. They attended the A. E. F. Schools at
Chatillon-sur-Seine, and rejoined us about July 1st.
At last the company was filled up to war strength, and equipped down
to the last shoe lace. On Friday, May 17th, all visitors were excluded
from camp. That evening I assembled the company and put the proposition
up to every man in it whether he wanted to go to France or not,
offering to leave anyone behind who wished to remain. I am proud to say
that not a man applied to be left.
Saturday was a hectic day of last preparations. The barracks were
stripped down to their last mattress and swept out. The typewriters
clicked busily until the last minute. Tom Viracola, one of our best
sergeants, who had been tripped on a slight disability by the medicos
at the last minute and was nearly heartbroken, was to be left in charge
of barracks.
About nine o’clock the company was formed for the last time at its
old home. Packs were heavy with the regulation equipment, tobacco,
and gifts from home. As I was signing some last papers under the arc
light, “C” company moved out silently. I gave “Squads left, march,” the
company wheeled out and we were off for the station.
The road was lined with soldiers from the Depot Brigade as we passed.
Here and there we saw a familiar face, and though the movement was to
be kept as quiet as possible, there was many a husky “so long, fellows”
and “good-bye, 311, good luck,” to cheer us on our way.
Packs were heavier every step, and what with the extra rations,
typewriter, etc., we were glad to have a half hour’s rest at the
station. Then the word came to fall in again--how many times were we
to hear those weary words, “Fall in”--and the company filed along to
the day coaches awaiting them. Equipment was removed, and all made
themselves as comfortable as they could for the night.
Early in the morning the train pulled out. As dawn broke, we made out
the names of some of the New Jersey towns we passed through. Many a
lad saw his home town for the last time as we rolled through it in the
chill of that May morning.
At Jersey City we detrained and passed through the station to the
ferry. Several civilians asked us where we were going; but the men
realized the importance of secrecy, and all the curious ones got was a
gruff invitation to “put on a uniform and find out.”
Then we were jammed on a ferry boat. It was some jam, too, leaving
those who hadn’t been trained on the subway gasping.
Down to the street, on between the great warehouses, and into a
spacious covered pier. Here was the point of embarkation, where we
had been told every service record was examined, every man inspected;
the focus of all the red tape that had been driving us insane for the
past two months. To our very agreeable surprise, however, the loading
was handled by two or three business-like men in civvies, who merely
checked each company on the boat by the passenger lists as fast as the
men could hike up the gangplank.
We were met by Lt. Gibbs, battalion adjutant, who led us below, pointed
out three decks each about the size of our Camp Dix orderly room, and
announced that these were B Co.’s palatial quarters. I gasped, and
remarked that we were much obliged, but suppose someone should want to
turn around, where would he be, and howinell was Geoghegan going to get
in one of those little canvas napkins they called hammocks, anyhow? He
replied that I ought to see “C” company’s place, and melted away in a
fashion peculiar to Bn. Adjts. when leaving Co. Cmdrs. S. O. L. A few
moments later we heard him consoling Capt. O’Brien on the deck above by
telling him that he ought to see “B” Co.’s place.