AMBULANCIERS TO FRONT
While all this was going forward, shells had wrecked all the bridges
over the river but one and it was so damaged as to be considered unsafe,
so the little force in Fismette had to hold on as best it could until
reinforcements could be thrown across. It was at this juncture that
there entered into fame a new set of candidates for military
decorations.
The men of the 103d Sanitary Train of the Twenty-eighth Division had
been performing their arduous and perilous tasks in a gallant and
self-sacrificing manner, but they now achieved the apotheosis of
bravery.
In the cellar of a house in Fismette there had been assembled
twenty-eight American wounded, and it was necessary to evacuate them
across the river in order that they might reach hospitals and receive
proper treatment. Five times the house had been struck by shells and
Sergeant William Lukens, of Cheltenham, Pa., and a few other men had to
scrape the debris off the wounded. Four times the comrades of Lukens had
to dig him out when shells buried him under an avalanche of earth.
Captain Charles Hendricks, of Blairsville, Pa., remained in the cellar
three days and four nights, and twice was buried by shells.
The ambulance men who finally carried the wounded back across the river,
after hairbreadth escapes and thrilling experiences, were headed by
Captain George E. McGinnis, of Philadelphia, and were members of
Ambulance Company 110, formerly Ambulance Company 2 in the National
Guard.
The advance party of rescuers set out for Fismes in a touring car. It
was made up of Major Frederick Hartung, of Pittsburgh; Major Edward M.
Iland, of Coraopolis, Captain McGinnis and Privates Walter McGinnis and
Walter Frosch, both of Philadelphia, and all members of the medical
corps.
Frosch was at the wheel. They took the road down the hill on the
southern slope of the Vesle at breakneck speed, for caution was useless.
They were in full view of scores of enemy gunners and their car at once
became a target, being hit several times. Frosch drove on "without
batting an eye," as the officers remarked.
Over the unsafe bridge they rushed at top speed and, to the amazement of
the watching Americans on the south bank, the structure held. Then the
car tore up through Fismette to the dressing station, around which big
shells were beating a terrible tattoo. The men hurriedly looked over the
situation and then made a preconcerted signal to the ambulanciers
waiting on the other side of the river.
When the signal was received, the ambulances came out from cover and
dashed for the river. They were conspicuously decorated with the red
cross, but that seemed only to make them a special target for the enemy.
The machines were manned by James T. O'Neill, of Aldan, Pa.; James R.
Gunn, Joseph M. Murray, Samuel Falls, Alfred Baker, Originnes Biemuller,
known among his comrades as "Mike," James R. Brown, Jack Curry, Harry
Broadbent, Raymond Onyx and Albert Smith, all of Philadelphia, and John
F. Maxwell, of Williamsport.
On the trip into Fismette, the ambulances escaped a hit, miraculous as
it may seem. They went around corners on two wheels, thundering and
rushing through the narrow little streets littered with dust and debris,
and came to a halt in the lee of the dressing station. Their crews
leaped to the ground and set to work loading the wounded.
The Hun artillerists and machine gunners vented all their varieties of
hate on the gallant little group intent on an errand of mercy. It seemed
as if the whole German army had determined they should not get their
wounded back to Fismes. With more indifference to the fire than they
felt for the clouds of flies which really annoyed them, the ambulance
men worked quickly, smoothly and efficiently.
O'Neill was sent back to see if the bridge still was standing. Instead
of contenting himself with making sure of this from the brow of the
river slope, he bethought him of a cache of medical supplies near the
river and continued on foot to the spot, carrying back with him a burden
of needed stores. Officers, watching the splendid exhibition of
cast-iron nerve through their glasses from the far side of the river,
alternately cursed him for "a blazing young fool" and blessed him for
being "the kind of young fool that does things."
O'Neill reported that the bridge was still in place and at three o'clock
in the morning the first ambulance was loaded and sent away. Captain
McGinnis went with it. The second ambulance left a few minutes later.
Broadbent and Maxwell still were loading. O'Neill had made another trip
to the river to see if the bridge was all right.
The first two ambulances had just cleared the river when a shell landed
fairly on the span and broke it through. O'Neill ran back to tell his
comrades and as he arrived a big shell fell just outside the cellar.
Broadbent was knocked down and deluged with earth at the entrance. He
scrambled back into the cellar at top speed, but one of the wounded men
in the ambulance, supposed to be too badly hurt to walk, beat Broadbent
into the shelter.
One of the patients was wounded again in the leg and one of the
ambulanciers held his hand over his cheek, where a screw from the side
of the ambulance had been blown clear through. Three tires of the
ambulance were punctured, the sides were perforated in a score of places
and the roof was blown off by shell fragments.
The patients were unloaded and carried back into the cellar to await a
quieter moment. Repairs were made to the bridge and Captain McGinnis
returned in a car and ordered the ambulances to get away. They started
again at seven o'clock in the morning, but found the bridge again a mass
of wreckage and had to return.
At last, at four o'clock in the afternoon, there came a lull in the
enemy fire and two more of the ambulances began their perilous race
across the river, the engineers having just completed the rebuilding of
the bridge. For the second time they just cheated a big shell, which
landed on the bridge immediately after the second car had crossed, and
the structure was put out of service beyond hope of quick repair.
Thereupon the ambulanciers remaining in the Fismette cellar calmly
proceeded to carry the remaining wounded on litters down the hill
through the German fire, under protection of a well-organized defense by
our fighting men. They forded the river, holding the litters above
their heads, while shells threw up waterspouts and bullets pattered like
hail all about them.
On the southern bank, ambulances stood out in the open, backed almost to
the water's edge, their drivers smoking cigarettes and watching and
calling advice to the men in the water. Thus the last of the wounded
were taken from under the noses of the enemy.
Captain McGinnis and most of the enlisted men whose names have been
mentioned were awarded Distinguished Service Crosses. Most of them had
worked seventy-two hours and many had absolutely no rest for forty-eight
hours. Ten of their thirteen ambulances were demolished.
In organizing a protective offense to cover the evacuation of the
wounded, First Sergeant Thomas J. Cavanaugh, of Pittsburgh, a member of
Company D, 111th Infantry, distinguished himself in such a manner as to
be awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.
With a small force of men, he captured a building in the outskirts of
the village and organized it as a strong point. He then took a position
himself at a street intersection where, by stepping around the corner of
the buildings one way, he was protected from enemy snipers and machine
gunners, and by turning the corner, he was open to the fire sweeping in
gusts down the road the ambulance men had to cover. Cavanaugh, when an
ambulance was ready to move, stepped into the open, like Ajax defying
the lightning. If the Germans were not firing heavily for the moment, he
whistled a signal to the ambulance men that it was safe to go ahead.
He was wounded by shrapnel, but refused to leave his post until he
collapsed, an hour and a half after being struck. The next day, having
had his wound treated, he insisted on resuming his position as a human
target for the benefit of the ambulance men and their wounded.
Captain Edmund W. Lynch, of Chester, commanding Company B, 111th
Infantry, who was killed a short time later, and Lieutenant Edward S.
Fitzgerald, of New York City, exposed themselves in the same manner and
for the same self-sacrificing purpose at other important corners.
And the fight for possession of Fismette went forward ceaselessly. A
daring and clever bit of work by a party of Pennsylvania machine gunners
under Lieutenant Milford W. Fredenburg, of Ridgway, Pa., an officer of
Company D, 112th Infantry, had a considerable influence on the final
driving of the enemy from the town. The lieutenant led his gunners
filtering through the German lines at night, like Indians, a man or two
here, another there. They assembled beyond the town, took shelter in a
wood and when the fighting was most furious the next day they were able
to pour in a disconcerting fire on the rear of the German forces.
Lieutenant Rippey L. Shearer, of Harrisburg, with men of Company G,
112th Infantry, crossed the river in water up to their necks, in which
the shorter men had either to swim or be supported by the larger ones.
They had the center of the advance and captured a building which had
been used as a tannery and had been a German stronghold. It was a
desperately brave, although costly, bit of work for which the
Pennsylvanians were highly praised.
Captain Fred L. McCoy, Grove City, Pa., commanding Company M, 112th
Infantry, held the left flank. He and his men fought their way down the
river bank to where an old stone mansion, known as the Chateau Diable,
had been a thorn in the side of the American attack. They stormed and
captured the building, taking thirty machine guns, a large quantity of
ammunition and many prisoners.
Captain Lucius M. Phelps, of Erie, Pa., commanding Company G, 112th, and
Captain Harry F. Miller, of Meadville, Pa., commanding Company B, of the
same regiment, led their companies in an advance east of the tannery
until they were ensconced behind stout stone walls, from where they were
able to turn their guns on the enemy stubbornly clinging to the northern
fringe of the village.
The 103d Trench Mortar Battery, made up very largely of members of the
old First City Troop of Philadelphia and representative of many of the
socially prominent families of that city, entered its first general
action. Under command of Captain Ralph W. Knowles, of Philadelphia, the
battery advanced with the infantry, lugging their Stokes mortars across
the river and up the hill. They set up their squat weapons and soon the
deep-throated roars of the mortars hurling their immense bombs joined in
the chorus that was beginning to sound the knell of German hopes of
hanging onto any part of Fismette.
West of Fismette, the broad Rheims-Rouen highway became, in the course
of these operations north of the Vesle, an objective of commanding
importance to the Americans for the purpose of breaking up lateral
communications along the German line. Captain Arthur L. Schlosser, of
Buffalo, N. Y., later killed, and Captain Robert S. Caine, of
Pittsburgh, who went to France as lieutenants of Company G, 111th
Infantry, on their own initiative started a raid which developed into a
successful attack and resulted in the capture of the highway where it
crosses the Vesle.
Captain Schlosser, who was almost a giant in size, carried a rifle
himself and, instead of having his men advance in company formation, led
them filtering through the woods in Indian fashion. He captured two
Maxim guns and killed the crews and he and Captain Caine and their men
held their positions against counter-attacks by the remnants of three
German regiments.
Not all the losses were confined to the attacking troops. The enemy
artillery, continually shelling the back areas, took its sad toll of
American life and limb. The 103d Engineers, who had been performing
prodigious work in their own line, suffered the loss of their second in
command, Lieutenant-Colonel Frank J. Duffy, of Scranton, Pa. As he
stepped into a side car in front of headquarters on the evening of
August 17th to make a tour of the lines, a huge shell exploded
immediately behind, killing him and the cycle driver instantly.
Back on the hills south of Fismes, the Pennsylvania artillery all this
time had been earning the right to rank in the Iron Division glory roll
along with their doughboy comrades. At one time, just as a battery had
geared up to move and the men already were astride their horses, a big
shell dropped plump upon the lead team of one of the guns.
"Steady, men," called an officer, and the men sat their plunging,
trembling horses as if on parade. It was an ideal time for a costly
stampede, but the conduct of the artillerymen prevented this and won the
highest praise of officers and men of other units who saw the
occurrence.
Two men were killed and three severely wounded and two horses were blown
to bits. The wheel driver trotted to a first aid station to get help for
the wounded men, while the regiment went on. After delivering his
message, the driver obtained a supply of powder and shells and went on
the gallop to the battery position to deliver the ammunition. Then he
said to men about him:
"Now, if you fellows have all that stuff unloaded and one of you will
help me down, I'll get you to tie a knot around this leg of mine."
Only then was it discovered that he had been attending to other wounded
men and the ammunition needs of the battery with a bad gash in his own
leg from a shell fragment.
Members of the headquarters companies of the artillery regiments
maintained communications constantly, stringing telephone wires in the
face of heavy enemy fire in almost impossible places. There was no
thought of failing. When some men died in an attempt, others promptly
stepped into the breach to "carry on."
Still the German guns from their hilltops poured down their galling fire
upon the American positions. Still the snipers and machine gunners hung
on in Fismette and still the crossing of the Vesle under bombardment was
so hazardous that an attack in force was impracticable.
The fighting in the streets of the town swayed back and forth until
August 28th. That day the Germans came down out of their hills in a
roaring tide. They boiled into Fismette and drove the small force of
Pennsylvanians back to the river, where an amazingly few men managed to
hold a bridgehead on the northern bank, and the town once more was
German territory.
Then our gunners went systematically to work to level the place, for the
high command had lost all hope of taking it by infantry assault without
an unworthy loss of brave men.