IN HEROIC MOLD
Captain W. R. Dunlap, of Pittsburgh, commander of Company E, 111th
Infantry, and Captain Lucius M. Phelps, Oil City, of Company G, 112th
Infantry, with their troops, led the advance beyond Epieds.
They came to the western edge of the forest of Fere, and into that
magnificent wooded tract the Germans fled. The occasional small woods,
dotting open country, through which they had been fighting, now gave way
to heavily timbered land, with here and there an open spot of varying
extent.
An American brigadier-general, who has the reputation of being something
of a Haroun-al-Raschid among the men, left his dugout in the rear at
night and went forward to the front lines to get personal knowledge of
the dangers his men were facing. Scouts having reported that the Germans
were preparing to launch an attack in hope of delaying our troops, the
general started for a position from which he would be able to see the
attack and watch our men meet it. He became confused in the forest and
arrived at the designated observation post later than he had intended.
He found it had been destroyed by a shell just a few moments before he
reached it. Had he been on time he certainly would have lost his life.
He took up another position and Lieutenant William Robinson, Uniontown,
Pa., started to lead forward the first line of Americans to break up the
German formations. Standing on a little ridge, the general saw the young
officer, whom he had known for years, going among his men, cheering and
encouraging them, when a huge shell burst almost at the lieutenant's
feet. A party of his men rushed to the spot, but there was not even a
trace of the officer.
"I'll sleep alone on this spot with my thoughts tonight," said the
saddened general, and he did, spending the night in a shell hole.
The Americans battled their way in little groups into the edge of the
forest, like bushmen. This was the situation when night fell, with a
fringe of Americans in hiding along the southern edge of the woods. The
forest seemed to present an almost impenetrable barrier, through which
it was utterly hopeless to continue an effort to advance in the
darkness.
So scattered were the groups that had forced their way into the shelter
of the wood that it was imperative headquarters should know their
approximate positions in order to dispose the forces for a renewal of
the assault in the morning. In this emergency Lieutenant William Allen,
Jr., Pittsburgh, of Company B, 111th Infantry, volunteered to find the
advanced detachments of our men.
Throughout the night he threaded his way through the woods, not knowing
what instant he would stumble on Germans or be fired on or thrust
through by his own men. It was a hair-raising, daredevil feat of such a
nature that he won the unstinted admiration of the men and the warm
praise of his superiors. When he found himself near other men he
remained silent until a muttered word or even such inconsequent things
as the tinkle of a distinctly American piece of equipment or the smell
of American tobacco--entirely different from that in the European
armies--let him know his neighbors were friends. Then a soft call "in
good United States" established his own identity and made it safe for
him to approach.
As the first streamers of dawn were appearing in the sky off in the
direction of Hunland, he crawled back to the main American lines, and
the report he made enabled his superiors to plan their attack, which
worked with clock-like precision and pushed the Boche on through the
woods.
Corporal Alfred W. Davis, Uniontown, Pa., of Company D, 110th Infantry,
was moving forward through the woods in this fighting, close to a
lieutenant of his company, when a bullet from a sniper hidden in a tree
struck the corporal's gun, was deflected and pierced the lieutenant's
brain, killing him instantly. Crawling up a ravine like an Indian
stalking game, Davis set off with blood in his eye in quest of revenge.
When he picked off his eighteenth German in succession it was nearly
dark, so he "called it a day," as he remarked, and slept better that
night for thought of the toll he had taken from the Germans to avenge
his officer.
In the woods the Germans fought desperately, despite that they were
dazed by the terrific artillery fire. Hidden in tree tops and under
rocks, with even their steel helmets camouflaged in red, green and
yellow, it was difficult for the attackers to pick them out in the
flicker of the shadows on the dense foliage.
While the attacking waves were advancing it was discovered that touch
had been lost with the forces on the right flank of the 110th, and
Sergeant Blake Lightner, Altoona, Pa., a liaison scout from Company G,
110th, started out alone to re-establish the connection.
He ran into an enemy machine gun nest, killed the crew and captured the
guns single-handed. Then he went back, brought up a machine gun crew,
established a snipers' post, re-established the communications, returned
to his own command and gave the co-ordinates for laying down a barrage
on a line of enemy machine gun nests he had discovered.
Toward nightfall of one of these days of desperate fighting it was
discovered that the ammunition supply of the first battalion of the
110th was running low, and Corporal Harold F. Wickerham, Washington,
Pa., and Private Boynton David Marchand, Monongahela City, Pa., were
sent back with a message for brigade headquarters. When they reached the
spot where the headquarters had been they found it had been moved. They
walked for miles through the woods in the darkness and finally came to a
town where another regiment was stationed, and they sent their message
over the military telephone.
They were invited to remain the rest of the night and sleep; fearing the
message might not get through properly, however, and knowing the grave
need of more ammunition, they set out again, and toward morning reached
their own ammunition dump and confirmed the message orally. Again they
refused a chance to rest, and set out to rejoin their command, which
they reached just in time to take part in a battle in the afternoon.
Such are the characteristics of the American soldier.
Somewhat the same fate as befell Epieds, which had been completely
leveled by artillery fire, came to the village of Le Charmel. After
violent fighting lasting two hours, during which the village changed
hands twice, it was blown to pieces by the artillery, and our men took
possession, driving the Germans on northeastward.
The Pennsylvanians now began to feel the change in the German resistance
as the Boche retreat reached its second line of defense, based on the
Ourcq River, and the fighting became hourly more bitter and determined.
This, as well as the dense forests, where the Germans had strung a maze
of barbed wire from tree to tree, slowed up the retreat and pursuit.
Also the density of the woods hampered observation of the enemy from the
air and therefore slowed up our artillery fire.
The process of taking enemy positions by frontal assault, always a
costly operation, gave way, wherever possible, to infiltration, by which
villages and other posts were pinched off, exactly as Cambrai, St.
Quentin, Lille and other places were taken later by the British farther
north.
The process of infiltration from a military standpoint means exactly the
same thing as the word means in any other connection. A few men at a
time filter into protected positions close to the enemy until enough
have assembled to offer battle, the enemy meanwhile being kept down by
strong, concentrated fire from the main body and the artillery. Although
much slower than an assault, this is extremely economical of men.
During this progress from the Marne northward, the various headquarters
had found some difficulty in keeping in touch with the advancing
columns. A headquarters, even of a regiment, is not so mobile as the
regiment itself. There is a vast amount of paraphernalia and supplies to
be moved, yet it is necessary that a reasonably close touch be
maintained with the fighting front.
The German method of retreat necessarily resulted in the Americans'
going forward by leaps and bounds. Strong points, such as well-organized
villages, manned by snipers and machine guns in some force, held the
troops up until the German rear-guards were disposed of. Once they were
cleaned up, however, the American advance, hampered only by hidden
sharpshooters and machine guns in small strength, moved forward
rapidly. It was reported, for instance, that one regimental headquarters
was moved three times in one day to keep up with the lines.
Most of the time, regimental, and even brigade, headquarters were under
artillery fire from the German big guns, and it was from this cause that
the first Pennsylvania officer of the rank of lieutenant-colonel was
killed, July 28th. He was Wallace W. Fetzer, of Milton, Pa., second in
command of the 110th.
Regimental headquarters had been moved far forward and established in a
brick house in a good state of preservation. The office machinery just
was getting well into the swing again when a high explosive shell fell
in the front yard and threw a geyser of earth over Colonel Kemp, who was
at the door, and Lieutenant-Colonel Fetzer, who was sitting on the
steps.
A moment later a second shell struck the building and killed three
orderlies. This was good enough evidence for Colonel Kemp that his
headquarters had been spotted by Boche airmen, for the artillery was
registering too accurately to be done by chance, so he ordered a move.
Officers and men of the staff were packing up to move and Lieutenant
Stewart M. Alexander, Altoona, Pa., the regimental intelligence officer,
was finishing questioning two captured Hun captains when a big
high-explosive shell scored a direct hit on the building. Seventeen men
in the house, including the two German captains, were killed outright.
Colonel Kemp and Lieutenant-Colonel Fetzer had left the building and
were standing side by side in the yard. A piece of shell casing struck
Colonel Fetzer, killing him, and a small piece struck Colonel Kemp a
blow on the jaw, which left him speechless and suffering from
shell-shock for some time.
Lieutenant Alexander, face to face with the two German officer
prisoners, was blown clear out of the building into the middle of the
roadway, but was uninjured, except for shock.
It was this almost uncanny facility of artillery fire for taking one man
and leaving another of two close together, that led to the fancy on the
part of soldiers that it was useless to try to evade the big shells,
because if "your number" was on one it would get you, no matter what you
did, and if your number was not on it, it would pass harmlessly by.
Thousands of the men became absolute fatalists in this regard.
Major Edward Martin, of Waynesburg, Pa., took temporary command of the
regiment and won high commendation by his work in the next few days.
It now became necessary to straighten the American line. The 109th had
come up and was just behind the 110th. It had taken shelter for the
night of July 28th in a wood just south of Fresne, and early on the
morning of July 29th received orders to be on the south side of the
Ourcq, two miles away, by noon of that day.
The men knew they were closely in touch with the enemy once more, but
this time there was none of the nervousness before action that had
marked their first entrance into battle. They had beaten back the
Prussian Guard, the flower of the Crown Prince's army, once, and knew
they could do it again.
Furthermore, there were many scores to settle. Every man felt he wanted
to avenge the officers and comrades who had fallen in the earlier
fighting, and it was a grimly-determined and relentless body of men
that emerged from that wood in skirmish formation before dawn of July
29th.
Almost immediately parts of the line came into action, but it was about
an hour after the beginning of "the day's work" that the first serious
fighting took place. Company M, near the center of the 109th's long
line, ran into a strong machine gun nest. The new men who had been
brought into the company to fill the gaps that were left after the
fighting on the Marne had been assimilated quickly and inoculated with
the 109th's fighting spirit and desire for revenge.
Although the company had gone into its first action as the only one in
the regiment with the full complement of six commissioned officers, it
now was sadly short, for those bitter days below the Marne had worked
havoc with the commissioned personnel as well as with the enlisted men.
Officers were becoming scarce all through the regiment. Lieutenant Fales
was the only one of the original officers of the company left in
service, so Lieutenant Edward B. Goward, of Philadelphia, had been sent
by Colonel Brown from headquarters to take command of the company, with
Lieutenant Fales second in command.
The company had to advance down a long hill, cross a small tributary of
the Ourcq, which here was near its source, and go up another hill--all
in the open. The Boche were intrenched along the edge of a wood at the
top of this second hill, and they poured in a terrible fire as the
company advanced.
Lieutenants Goward and Fales were leading the first platoons. The
company was wild with eagerness and there was no holding them. Here was
the first chance they had had since the Marne to square accounts with
the unspeakable Hun, and they were in no humor to employ subtle tactics
or use even ordinary care.
With queer gurgling sounds behind their gas masks--they would have been
yells of fury without the masks in place--they swept forward. Lieutenant
Goward ran straight into a stream of machine gun bullets. One struck him
in the right shoulder and whirled him around. A second struck him in the
left shoulder and twisted him further. As he crumpled up a stream of
bullets struck him in the stomach. He fell dying.
Seeing him topple, Lieutenant Fales rushed toward him to see if he could
be of service. He walked directly into the same fire and was mortally
wounded. Goward managed to roll into a shell hole, where he died in a
short time.
The men did not stop. Led only by their non-commissioned officers, they
plunged straight into and over the machine gun nest directly in the face
of its murderous fire which had torn gaps in their ranks, but could not
stop them. They stamped out the German occupants with as little
compunction as one steps on a spider. The men came out of the woods
breathing hard and trembling from the reaction to their fury and
exertions, but they turned over no prisoners.
The machine gun crews were dead to a man.
Goward and Fales had been especially popular with the men of the
company, and their loss was felt keenly. Goward was distinctly of the
student type, quiet, thoughtful, scholarly, doing his own thinking at
all times. He had been noted for this characteristic when a student at
the University of Pennsylvania. Fales, on the other hand, was of the
dashing, athletic type, and the two, with their directly opposed
natures, had worked together perfectly and quite captured the hearts of
their men.
Both Goward and Fales are buried on the side of a little hill near
Courmont, in the Commune of Cierges, Department of the Aisne, their
graves marked by the customary wooden crosses, to which are attached
their identification disks.
From then on, the rest of the day was a continuous, forward-moving
battle for the regiment. Every mile was contested hotly by Hun
rear-guard machine gunners, left behind to harass the advancing
Americans and make their pursuit as costly as possible.
Lieutenant Herbert P. Hunt, of Philadelphia, son of a former
lieutenant-colonel of the old First, leading Company A of the 109th in a
charge, was struck in the left shoulder by a piece of shell and still
was in hospital when the armistice ended hostilities.
The 109th reached Courmont and found it well organized by a small force
of Germans, with snipers and machine guns in what remained of the
houses, firing from windows and doors and housetops. They cleaned up
the town in a workmanlike manner, and only a handful of prisoners went
back to the cages in the rear.
It was in this fighting that Sergeant John H. Winthrop, of Bryn Mawr,
performed the service for which he was cited officially by General
Pershing, winning the Distinguished Service Cross. The sergeant was
killed in action a few weeks later.
He was a member of Company G, 109th Infantry. All its officers became
incapacitated when the company was in action. Sergeant Winthrop took
command. The official citation in his case read:
"For extraordinary heroism in action near the River Ourcq, northeast of
Chateau-Thierry, France, July 30, 1918. Sergeant Winthrop took command
of his company when all his officers were killed or wounded, and handled
it with extreme courage, coolness and skill, under an intense artillery
bombardment and machine gun fire, during an exceptionally difficult
attack."