"AN ENVIABLE REPUTATION"
Varennes itself was virtually a wreck by the time our men reached it.
Most of the buildings were cut off about the second story by shell fire.
An electric plant, installed by the Germans and which they had attempted
to wreck before leaving, was repaired by Pennsylvania mechanics and soon
was ready to furnish illumination for the Americans.
Crates of live rabbits, left behind by the Germans in their flight, were
found by the Pennsylvanians and turned over to the supply officers, and
in the evening an officers' mess sat down to a stewed rabbit dinner in
the open square of the ruined town, in the shadow of the gaping sides of
the wrecked church. In addition to the army ration issue, the meal and
others for some days were helped out by a plentiful supply of cabbage,
radishes, potatoes, cauliflower, turnips and other vegetables, taken
from the pretty little gardens which the Germans had planted and
carefully nurtured.
While the Pennsylvanians were at Varennes, a great automobile came
roaring down the hill from the south and slithered to a halt where a
group of our soldiers had been lolling on the ground resting. They were
not there by the time the car stopped. Instead, they were erect and
soldierly, every man at attention and hands jerked up to the salute with
sharp precision. For the flag upon the car bore four stars and it was
all the men could do to keep from rude "gaping" at the tall, handsome
man inside, who called to them pleasantly:
"What division is this?"
Most of the men were tongue-tied with surprise and embarrassment, but
one responded:
"The Twenty-eighth, sir."
"Ah! You have an enviable reputation," was the reply from the man in the
car. "I should like to lunch with your division today."
Which he thereupon proceeded to do. As the car passed on, a group of
very red-faced private soldiers looked each other in the eye in a
startled way and one voiced the thought of all when he said:
"And that was General Pershing! And he spoke to us! Gee!"
The 103d Engineers again were covering themselves with glory in this
Argonne drive. Time after time they were sent out to repair existing
roads and construct new ones, often working right on the heels of the
infantry, for only after they had performed their work could supplies be
brought up to the fighting troops and the artillery maintain position to
continue the barrage in advance of the infantry and machine gunners.
The 103d Supply Train, too, performed its work under incredible
difficulties. Doughboys rarely thought to give a word of praise to the
men of the big camions. More often their comment was: "Gee! Pretty soft
for you fellows, riding around in a high-powered truck while we slog
through the mud!"
But to those who knew of the trying night drives in utter darkness over
roads which not only were torn to tatters already by shells, but which
were subject at any time to renewed shelling; of the long stretches
without sleep or food or drink; of the struggles with motors and other
parts of the trucks which fell heir to every kind of trouble such things
are liable to under great stress--only to that understanding few, and to
the supply chaps themselves, were their activities regarded as subject
for praiseful comment. Had the supply train "fallen down on the job" and
"chow" not been ready at every opportunity--which truly were few and far
enough between--Oh, then the doughboys would have howled in execration
at their brothers of the big lorries.
The same kind of credit was due as much and given as rarely to the 103d
Ammunition Train, which kept all the fighting men supplied without stint
and without break with the necessary powder and steel to keep the Hun on
the run.
Even the men of the four field hospitals found themselves nearer the
front than such organizations usually go. So well had the plans been
laid for that opening assault that it was realized the hospitals would
have to be well forward to avoid too long a carry for the wounded after
the first rush had carried our men well beyond their "jumping-off-place."
The hospitals took position during the night and erected their tents, so
they would not be subject to air bombing before the attack and so their
presence would not betray the concentration of forces. French officers
who passed along the American front inspecting it the night before the
assault were amazed at this concentration, and so were the field
hospital men when the bombardment was started and they found themselves
far ahead of the big guns. In the morning they discovered, to their
astonishment, that they had been thrust in between the first line of
infantry and the support.
Throughout the Argonne fighting, as they had done from the beginning of
the division's activities, they performed their work in as thorough and
capable a manner as did any of the organizations in the division, and
found their chief recompense in the gratitude of the wounded and
suffering who passed through their hands.
As the two Pennsylvania columns battered their way forward, a double
liaison service was maintained between them, first by patrols of men and
second by telephone communication. The service of communication was
presided over by Colonel Walter C. Sweeney, chief of the divisional
staff, originally a Philadelphian, but now hailing from Virginia.
The circuit of communication was not broken once, largely because of the
alertness and ability of Lieutenant-Colonel Sydney A. Hagerling, of
Pittsburgh, the divisional signal officer, and the staunch, untiring and
efficient work of the 103d Field Signal Battalion. Each brigade
commander knew always precisely how far the other had advanced. Both
regular army men, they united in giving full credit for the remarkably
successful advance to the high quality of the troops, the superb
handling of the artillery by Brigadier-General Price and the unexcelled
teamwork of officers and men of each branch of the service and of branch
with branch.
At one time, emphasizing this remarkable spirit within the division,
Major-General Muir appeared in the front lines one morning, just as the
first wave of infantrymen was about to go over in a charge against a
machine gun nest. Standing talking to the regimental commander, General
Muir fidgeted for a few moments and then said:
"I think I'll command one of those companies myself."
To the amazement and great glee of officers and men, he did, the
commander of the chosen company acting as second in command. Enemy
shells landed all about the General, who manifested as much agility and
energy as the youngest private. A shell fell within twenty-five feet of
him, but fortunately it was a "dud," or one which failed to explode.
There was vicious machine gun fire all about, but the nest was cleaned
out and prisoners and guns were captured. General Muir rejoined the
Colonel. He was breathing hardly faster than usual as he remarked:
"That was fine! It took me back to the old days in the Philippines."
A few days later, the General was out again among the troops,
accompanied by Colonel Sweeney, Captain Theodore D. Boal, of Boalsburg,
Pa., Lieutenant Edward Hoopes, of West Chester, and Corporal Olin
McDonald, of Sunbury, all of his staff.
German planes were hovering overhead and suddenly one of them dropped
like a plummet to a few hundred feet above the ground and began to spit
machine gun bullets at the group. A wounded soldier had just come out of
the woods, stood his rifle against a tree and started back to a first
aid station. General Muir seized the rifle, took careful aim at the
flyer, about three hundred feet above, and fired twice. Whether he
scored a hit could not be determined, but the airman fled after the
second shot.
In the course of the advance, the artillery went forward in echelons.
That is, batteries from the rear moved up and took position in advance
of other batteries which maintained the fire, passing between the guns
on their way. After they were in position to fire, the one farther back
ceased fire and the process was repeated.
The Pennsylvania artillery cut a swath two miles wide through the
forest, doing their work so thoroughly that beautiful green hills which
could be descried by powerful glasses in the distance were, by the time
the beholders reached them, nothing but shell-pitted, blackened mounds,
ragged with beards of shattered and splintered trees, looking for all
the world, as men from the Pennsylvania mountain country observed, like
the hills at home after a forest fire.
When the artillery reached Varennes, which was, of course, not until
after the infantry had gone far beyond, they ran into a severe enemy
shelling. On October 2d, First Sergeant T. O. Mader, of Audenried,
Luzerne county, a member of Battery A, 109th Artillery, performed the
deeds which won for him official citation and the Distinguished Service
Cross.
He helped to guide sections of the battery over a shell-swept road, when
the fire was so severe that eight men were wounded and ten horses
killed. The horse that Sergeant Mader rode was killed under him. The
driver of a swing team had difficulty in controlling the horses of a
section and Sergeant Mader sent him to another section and himself took
charge of the fractious team. He continued with the section until he was
so badly wounded he was unable to control the frantic horses. He refused
to have his wounds treated, however, and continued to direct the gun
carriages to places of safety. Then, disregarding his own condition, he
requested the medical officers to give first attention to other wounded
men. The official citation declared that "Sergeant Mader's conduct was
an inspiration to the men of his battery."
Another "second in command" was put out of action at this time,
Lieutenant-Colonel Olin F. Harvey, of the 109th Artillery, being
severely wounded in the leg by a shell fragment.
Beyond Varennes, the infantry found the going harder than before--much
harder than anything they had encountered since going to France. The
Germans had their backs to their boasted Brunnhilde line and fought with
the desperation of despair to hold off the advancing Americans until
their vast armies in the north could extricate themselves from the net
Marshal Foch had spread for them with such consummate skill.
Montblaineville and Baulny presented but temporary problems to troops
flushed with victory, and they pushed on toward Apremont, below which
they suffered the first serious check of the drive. Once more there was
need for tremendous effort and heroic endeavor and once more the
Pennsylvania troops measured up to the need. Men who had distinguished
themselves on the Marne, the Ourcq, the Vesle and Aisne lived nobly up
to the reputations for bravery they had already established, and they
were emulated in inspiring style by men whose names had not before
figured in the division's record of honor.
The trench mortar battery of the artillery brigade was rivaled by men of
the trench mortar platoons attached to the headquarters companies of the
various infantry regiments, who carried their heavy weapons through the
almost fathomless mud, in and out of shell craters, exhausted by the
heat of the days and the bone-chilling cold of the nights. In spite of
their heavy burdens, the mortar platoons always were close at hand when
the infantry stopped, baffled by the mazes of wire, and called for the
"flying pigs" to open a path.
Men of every regiment filled stellar roles in this smashing advance.
Lieutenant Godfrey Smith, of Gwynedd Valley, Pa., overcame innumerable
obstacles and passed through many dangers to establish and maintain
telephone communication between the advance posts and the rear areas of
the 112th Infantry. Color-Sergeant Miles Shoup, of Braddock, had charge
of the runners and liaison work and displayed great personal bravery.
Shoup had the reputation among the other men of bearing a charmed life
and he was termed "a remarkable soldier" by more than one officer. In
the advance of the morning of September 28th, Colonel Dubb became
separated and Shoup volunteered to search for him. He located the
Colonel after passing unscathed through a terrific artillery and machine
gun fire, then returned the same way and organized additional runners to
keep the communications intact.
At night the Germans suddenly opened a smart barrage with big guns and
men of the 112th became scattered. Lieutenant Smith assembled the men
while the fire was going on, finding them in various shelters. It was
necessary to wear masks because the Boche was mixing an occasional gas
shell with his shrapnel and high explosives, but Lieutenant Smith
persisted until he had returned the men to their various battalion
positions and reorganized the companies.
On another occasion, Lieutenant Smith was laying telephone wire with a
detail of headquarters company men. When the supply of wire ran out, he
crawled through the woods to a German telephone line, within a short
distance of German positions, cut the wire and brought back enough to
continue laying his own line.
An officer of the 112th noticed that every time he called for a runner
from any one of three companies, it was always the same man who
responded. The man was Private Charles J. Ryan, of Harrisburg, a member
of Company I. When a lull came in the activity, the officer investigated
in person, because the men assigned to act as runners should have taken
turns and he suspected the others were imposing on Ryan, which is
subversive of discipline. To his amazement, he learned from the
unanimous accounts of all the men, including Ryan, that the latter had
insisted that the other runners should let him take all the assignments
to duty. The officer put a stop to the method.
France puts her clergymen into the army as fighting men, on the same
basis as any other men. America exempts men of the cloth from military
service, but offers them an opportunity to serve their country and
humanity, as well as their calling, by acting as chaplains to the
fighting men. As such, they are supposed to have nothing to do with the
fighting. But there come times, in the heat and rush of battle, when
quick action by the nearest man of ability and judgment points the way
to victory.
Such an occasion arose on the second day of the Argonne drive, when all
the officers of a battalion of the 111th Infantry were incapacitated.
Lieutenant Charles G. Conaty, of Boston, a Catholic priest who was a
chaplain in the 111th, was the only commissioned officer remaining with
the battalion. He promptly jumped into the breach and led the men in a
victorious charge. Lieutenant Conaty had not long recovered at that time
from the effects of gas which he inhaled while working close to the
lines in the Marne-Vesle drive.
A German sniper wounded the "bunkie" of Thomas Corry, of Pittsburgh, a
member of Company I, 111th Infantry. Corry started out to stalk the
sniper in revenge. He spent the whole day at it and returned with half a
dozen prisoners, all the snipers he had found except the ones who showed
fight and had to be killed.
A major of the 111th at one time sent a runner to the 109th machine gun
battalion to ask for immediate assistance. Company B of the gunners,
under Captain Daniel Burke Strickler, of Columbia, Pa., set out at once
with a guide. They followed the guide over one hill, but saw no sign
either of the enemy or a hard-pressed battalion of their own men. At the
bottom of the next hill, Captain Strickler called a halt and asked the
guide if he were sure the battalion was at the top.
The guide replied that they were hardly 100 yards away and started up
the hill alone to make sure. He had gone not more than twenty feet when
a masked machine gun battery opened up and the guide was shot to
ribbons. Captain Strickler ascertained the location of the infantry
lines from a wounded man who happened along on his way to the rear and
started for them.
The infantry, however, had been having a hard time and had been directed
to retire while the artillery laid down a barrage. Unaware of this,
Captain Strickler led his men up the hill and walked into the edge of
our own barrage, but the company escaped without the loss of a man.
The effect of the American pressure now was being felt far behind the
German front lines, as was evidenced by the sheets of flame by night and
clouds of smoke by day which signaled the burning of heaps of stores and
the explosion of ammunition dumps far to the north.
Advancing around Apremont, the 111th ran into difficulties and was
delayed. Runners carried the word to the 55th Brigade and Captain Meehan
and a battalion of the 109th were detached and sent over to help. They
cleaned out the Bois de la T'Aibbe, which was strongly garrisoned and
offered a next to impregnable front, so that when the 111th disposed of
its immediate difficulties it was able to move up to the same front as
the rest of the regiments.