After being relieved in the Vosges sector by the 6th Division,
headquarters of the 35th Division was moved from Gerardmer to Rosieres,
a rest camp in the Luneville area. In the evening of September 2nd we
left Le Collet in trucks, and arrived at Barbey-Seroux about midnight.
Pup tents were pitched in an open field, and for two days and nights
they served as our homes.
At 9 o'clock on the morning of September 4th the entire 110th Sanitary
Train started on the march for the railhead at La Haussiere, about
fourteen kilos away. Full field equipment was carried by each man, and a
lunch, consisting of one bacon and one jam sandwich, which turned out to
be the only rations for the next twenty-eight hours.
Arriving at La Haussiere about 1 P. M., the sanitary train boarded the
box cars. A previous train carrying troops on this route had been
attacked by Boche airplanes, so we had machine guns mounted on a flat
car to be prepared for any which might attack us. Fortunately, or
unfortunately, we saw none and so missed what would have been an
interesting experience.
The destination of this trip was to be Benney. The trucks carrying the
kitchen and supplies went overland, and the intention was that there
should be a hot supper waiting for us on our arrival. The railroad
passed through several towns within a very short distance of Benney, and
why we didn't detrain at one of these has always been a deep, dark
mystery. At the time we were on the train we did not know what our
destination was to be, and we only found out after reaching Luneville at
8 P. M. that we were confronted with the necessity of retracing a large
part of our trip--but this time on foot, and supperless to boot.
While we were waiting for the 140th Ambulance Company to unload its
mules and ambulances we laid down upon the muddy sidewalks and watched
the powerful flashlights searching the sky for Boche airplanes.
Luneville was a favorite visiting place for such planes, and the
shattered buildings testified to the accuracy of their aim.
About 11 P. M. the column was formed and began to move on the long and
never-to-be-forgotten hike to Benney. Ambulance Company 139 was the last
marching company, with Ambulance Company 140 bringing up the rear. The
orders were no lights, and only men tagged sick would be allowed to ride
in the twelve mule ambulances.
Major Salisbury was in command of the train, and at 1 A. M. ordered a
halt of two hours. Some of the men unrolled their packs and wrapped
themselves in their blankets, while others laid down in the mud and
managed to get a little sleep, covered only by their raincoats. When the
column resumed the march several of the men were left sleeping
peacefully alongside of the road, against trees or upon piles of rocks.
Here we nearly lost Lieut. Bates, who fortunately awoke just as the last
ambulance was passing by.
It soon began to rain, and by 3:30 the men were splashing through a
regular downpour. When the orders to fall in were passed back, most of
the men would turn their backs, and give their faces a brief rest from
the stinging cuts of the rain. Others would sink down on the roadside,
regardless of mud or water. It was a weird looking lot of soldiers that
marched into Blainville, with raincoats thrown over their heads and
packs to prevent them, especially the latter, from becoming soaked with
rain. Many here found an empty hayloft and lost no time in getting to
sleep, leaving the column to struggle on without them.
As the eastern sky was beginning to show signs of the welcome daybreak,
the rain diminished to a light but uncomfortable drizzle. Slowly but
steadily the column moved on through the towns of Rehainville,
Haussonville and Velle-sur-Meuse. Upon entering each small town every
man in the train was hoping that that would be the end of the hike. The
morning of the 5th wore away, and as the wet and weary column continued
to leave town after town behind, the men came to the conclusion that we
were "lost again," and that we were doubling back toward Bayon, through
which they had passed the day before on the train.
Since daybreak straggling had become general. After leaving Haussonville
there was hardly a kilo that did not claim its group of stragglers. The
heavy laden plum trees along the roadside helped thin the ranks, because
the men had had nothing to eat for breakfast but a few pieces of
water-soaked bacon and bread. During one of the hourly ten-minute rest
periods Tony Cataldi, who was perched up in a plum tree enjoying the
delicious plums, was seen by a passing officer and immediately ordered
down. Unable to see who was giving the order, on account of the leaves
and rain, he inquired with true Italian curiosity, "Who in de h--l are
you?" He soon found out that the officer was in command of the column.
As the men continued their weary way there was little talking--the men
had enough to do in keeping going. By this time the companies were
reduced to platoons, for buck privates, non-coms and even company
commanders were falling out. The only thing that kept the rest going was
pride. Pride would not allow them to drop out while others were "making
the riffle."
The last mile told. The long hill that hid the little town of Benney was
lined with the men who had fallen out. Just twenty-eight men out of the
ninety that left Luneville with our company pulled into the town about
11:30 A. M. They had made the entire trip without dropping out or having
their packs hauled. They had marched 14 kilos, ridden seven hours in box
cars, and then marched 41 kilos more, all this on a two-sandwich ration,
and through rain and muddy roads.
So ended the hike to Benney, a hike whose only claim to distinction is
the fact that it need never have been made. Why the companies were not
detrained at Bayon, or even Blainville, through which they had passed on
the train and thereby saving 15 hours of long and weary hiking, will
probably always remain a "military secret." From either of these towns
the march would have been only a walk. Efforts were made at both places
to have the troops detrained, but they were unavailing.