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[Illustration: _From a painting by F. C. Yohn._
The battle of Seicheprey.
"All through the night the artillerymen sent their shells, encasing
themselves in gas masks." (_Page_ 225)]
_AMERICA IN THE WAR_
OUR ARMY AT THE FRONT
BY
HEYWOOD BROUN
FORMERLY CORRESPONDENT FOR THE "NEW YORK TRIBUNE" WITH THE
AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1922
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE LANDING OF PERSHING 1
II. "VIVE PAIR-SHANG!" 11
III. THE FIRST DIVISION LANDS 29
IV. THE FOURTH OF JULY 44
V. WHAT THEY LIVED IN 53
VI. GETTING THEIR STRIDE 66
VII. SPEEDING UP 81
VIII. BACK WITH THE BIG GUNS 96
IX. THE EYES OF THE ARMY 107
X. THE SCHOOLS FOR OFFICERS 117
XI. SOME DISTINGUISHED VISITORS 124
XII. THE MEN WHO DID EVERYTHING 134
XIII. BEHIND THE LINES 145
XIV. FRANCE AND THE MEDICOES 158
XV. IN CHARGE OF MORALE 168
XVI. INTO THE TRENCHES 177
XVII. OUR OWN SECTOR 189
XVIII. A CIVILIAN VISITOR 200
XIX. A FAMOUS GESTURE 212
XX. THE FIRST TWO BATTLES 224
XXI. TEUFEL-HUNDEN 237
XXII. THE ARMY OF MANOEUVRE 248
XXIII. ST. MIHIEL 266
XXIV. MEUSE-ARGONNE BEGINS 279
XXV. CEASE FIRING 291
GENERAL PERSHING'S REPORT 301
ILLUSTRATIONS
The battle of Seicheprey _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
General Pershing in Paris, July, 1917 16
Buglers of the Alpine Chasseurs, assisted by their military
band, entertaining American soldiers of the First
Division 64
U. S. locomotive-assembling yards in France 154
Red Cross Hospital at Neuilly, formerly the American
Ambulance Hospital 166
Secretary Baker riding on flat car during his tour of inspection
of the American Expeditionary Forces 202
U. S. Marines in readiness to march to the front 244
The capture of Sergy 262
OUR ARMY AT THE FRONT
CHAPTER I
THE LANDING OF PERSHING
A ship warped into an English port. Along her decks were lines of
soldiers, of high and low degree, all in khaki. From the shore end of
her gang-plank other lines of soldiers spread out like fan-sticks, some
in khaki, some in the two blues of land and sea fighters. Decorating the
fan-sticks were the scarlet and gold of staff-officers, the blue and
gold of naval officers, the yellow and gold of land officers, and the
black of a few distinguished civilians.
At the end of one shore-line of khaki one rigid private stood out from
the rest, holding for dear life to a massive white goat. The goat was
the most celebrated mascot in the British Army, and this was an affair
of priceless consequence, but that was no sign the goat intended to
behave himself, and the private was responsible.
Weaving through this picture of military precision, three little groups
of men waited restlessly to get aboard the ship. One was the lord mayor
of the port city, his gilt chains of office blazing in the forenoon
brightness, with his staff; another was the half-dozen or so of
distinguished statesmen, diplomats, and military heroes bringing formal
welcome to England; the third was the war correspondents and reporters
from the London newspapers.
The waiting was too keen and anxious for talk. Excitement raced from man
to man.
For the ship was the _Baltic_. The time was the morning of June 8, 1917.
The event was the landing of John J. Pershing, commander of America's
Expeditionary Force. And the soldiers with him were the herald of
America's coming--the holding of her drive with an outpost.
When the grandchildren of those soldiers learn that date in their
history lessons it is safe to assume that all its historical
significance will be fairly worked out and articulate.
It is equally safe to say that in the moment of its happening few if
any of its participants, even the most consequential and far-seeing, had
a personal sense of making history. Of all the pies that one may not
both eat and have, the foremost is that very taking part in a great
occasion. All the fun of it is being got by the man who stays at home
and reads the newspapers, undistracted by the press of practical matters
in hand.
True, for the landing of General Pershing there was the color of
soldiery, the blare of brass bands, the ring of great names among the
welcomers. There was, of course, the overtone picture of a great
chieftain, marching in advance of a great army, come to foreign lands to
add their might to what, with their coming, was then a world in arms.
The future might see, blended with the gray hulk of the _Baltic_, the
shadowy shape of the _Mayflower_ coming back, still carrying men bound
to the service of world freedom.
But what they saw that morning was, after all, a very modern landing,
from a very modern ship, with sailors hastily tying down a gang-plank,
and doing it very well because they had done it just that way so many
times before.
The Royal Welsh Fusiliers were down to give a military welcome, with
their mascot and their crack band. The lord mayor, Lieutenant-General
Pitcairn Campbell, Admiral Stileman, and other men from both arms of
England's service were there, not to feel of their feelings, but to make
the landing as agreeable and convenient as possible, and to convey to
General Pershing, with Anglo-Saxon mannerliness and reticence, their
great pleasure at having him come.
As soon as there was access to the ship General Campbell and Admiral
Stileman went aboard and introduced themselves to General Pershing. They
met, also, a few of the American staff-officers, and returned salutes
from the privates who made up the Pershing entourage of 168 men.
There were congratulations on the ship's safe arrival, which reminded
General Pershing and some of his officers that they wanted, before
leaving the ship, to pay their respects to the skipper who had carried
them through the danger zone without so much as a sniff at a submarine.
This done, the little company of officers walked down the gang-plank,
talking cheerily of their satisfaction at meeting, of their hard work on
the ship, of the weather, and what-not, all the while the soldiers on
the decks behind them waved hands and handkerchiefs in a general
overflow of well-being, and finally--set foot in England!
One may not go too far in describing the contents of a general's mind
without some help from him, but it's a fair guess that if General
Pershing is as kin to his kind as he seems to be, the very precise
moment of this setting foot in England escaped his notice altogether,
and was left free for the historian to embroider how he pleased. For
General Pershing was in the act of being led to the salute of a guard of
honor by General Campbell. And almost immediately after that precise
moment the Welsh Fusiliers' band began the "Star-Spangled Banner," and
again it's a good bet that General Pershing and his staff thought not a
thing about England and a lot about home.
But so the historic moment came, and so it went. And presently the
American vanguard was finding its places in the special train to
London.
Perhaps England knew that a great hour was in the making, for her
rolling green hills gave back the warmth of a splendid sun, and her
hedgerows and wild blooms braved forth in crystal air. Those of the
newcomers who saw England first that afternoon thanked their stars
fervently that England and democracy were on the same side.
In mid-afternoon the train reached London, and here the Americans were
greeted, not alone by soldiers and England, but by the English. The
secret of their coming, carefully kept, had given the port civilians no
chance. But they knew it in London and the station was crowded to its
doors.
General Pershing stepped from the train as soon as it stopped.
Ambassador Walter Hines Page came over to him, both hands outstretched,
and asked leave to introduce another general who had taken an
Expeditionary Force to France--General Sir John French. Other
introductions followed--to Lord Derby, General Lord Brooke, and Sir
Francis Lloyd. And there was a hearty handshake from a fighter who
needed no introduction--Rear-Admiral William E. Sims.
Inside and outside the station the civilians cheered. None of them
needed to have General Pershing pointed out to them. He was
unmistakable. No man ever looked more the ordained leader of fighting
men. He was tall, broad, and deep-chested, splendidly set up; and to the
care with which Providence had fashioned him he had added soldierly care
of his own.
He might have been patterned upon the Freudian dream of Julius Caesar, if
Julius was in truth the unsoldierly looking person they made him out to
be, whose majesty lay wholly in his own mind's eye.
The gallant look of General Pershing fanned the London friendliness to
contagious flames of enthusiasm. He and his officers were cheered to
their hotel, the soldiers were cheered to their barracks in the Tower of
London.
At the hotel they found three floors turned over to them, arranged for
good, hard work, with plenty of desk-room, and boy and girl scouts for
running errands. Squarely in the entrance was a money-changer's desk,
with a patient man in charge who could, and did, name the number of
cents to the shilling once every minute for four days. A little English
lady who visited America complained bitterly, just after arrival, "Why
didn't they make their dollar just four shillings?" thereby summing up
the only really valid source of acrimony between England and America.
The money-changer made the international amity complete.
Once installed, General Pershing and his staff fell to and worked,
continuing the organization that had been roughly blocked out on the
_Baltic_, and building up the liaison between English and American army
procedure, begun by the help of British and Canadian officers on board,
by frequent conferences with England's State, War, and Navy Departments.
The day after the arrival General Pershing went to "breakfast at
Windsor," the first meeting between America's fighter and England's
King. Here, at last, the momentousness of the matter found voice.
King George, having done with the introductory greeting, said earnestly:
"I cannot tell you how much your coming means to me. It has been the
great dream of my life that my country and yours would join in some
great enterprise ... and here you are...."
After this visit, prolonged by an inspection of the historic treasures
of Windsor Castle, General Pershing made the rule of unbroken work for
himself and his officers till his task in London was finished and he
should leave for France to join his First Division.
He made what he expected to be a single exception to this rule. He went
to a dinner-party, at which he met Lloyd-George, Arthur Balfour, just
back from his American mission, and half a dozen others of commensurate
distinction. He found that his exception was no exception at all. The
English do not merely have the reputation of doing their real work at
their dinner-parties--they deserve that reputation. Staff-officers,
telling all about it later on, said that it could hardly have been
distinguished from a cabinet meeting, or a report from the Secretary of
State for War. So were the final plans made and the business of the
nations settled.
Concerning all these meetings and all the national feeling that was
behind them, General Pershing and his officers were of one voice--that
England's welcome had been precisely of the sort that pleased them most.
It was reticent, charming, too genuine for much open expression, too
chivalrous at heart to be obtrusive.
What with spending most of each twenty-four hours at work, the American
vanguard finished up its affairs in four days. And early on the morning
of June 13, long before the break of day, General Pershing and his
officers and men boarded their Channel boat, the _Invicta_, and set sail
for France.