"war babies," insisted on sleeping in my arms. And as we were in a
position where the slightest noise would send us to the hospital
or perhaps "west," the "war babies" had everything their own way. And
the "cooties" would keep us company every night. They would parade
up and down my back and of course I had to stand for it. I laid out
there three nights with my pal. On the fourth day about five o'clock
we decided to wash, as it would be the first time in five days.
We got down to the spring without being seen and were enjoying a
wonderful bath when the "Heinie" spotted us and started to snipe with
his six-inch shells. Bill and I made for the dugout and had about
two hundred feet to go when a shell hit under Bill's feet. I did not
stop, for it was useless, as all I could see was blood and a part of a
shattered leg. We picked Bill up in a box. It sure hit me hard, but it
is all in the game. I swore that night I would get even, and I think
I have. After three months in the front line, in and around Verdun,
we went out for a rest, but not for long. We had been in a rest camp
about ten days, when on the night of May 28th, at nine o'clock, we were
ordered to move up the line, and stop "Heinie," who wanted to make
Paris his headquarters. We were loaded in motor lorries and rode all
night and part of the day.
We arrived at a little town and got something to eat, the first we
had in twenty-four hours. We then started on a march which lasted
thirty-six hours, when we arrived at a town about five miles behind the
line, tired and hungry. I will go on record, right here, to say that
I have been over every inch of France, in box cars, hospital trains,
motor lorries, and the rest I hiked. We arrived at this town about
2 A.M. and were ordered into the line, but thanks to our commanding
officer we did not go. The inhabitants had evacuated and we were told
to go and sleep in any house we could find. It was here that I saw the
first example of German "Kultur." In a room in the house I went into,
I saw a mother with part of her head blown off, with a six-months'-old
baby in her arms, both lying on the bed, dead. In the corner was a
six-year-old boy who had evidently been killed by the same shell that
killed the mother and baby. But with all that I had a good night's
sleep, which I needed. In the morning we killed what live stock we
could find, and sure did eat. That night we were ordered into the line
and there we began to see real war.
"Heinie" started to send over everything he had, in the way of shells,
high explosives, shrapnel and machine gun bullets. There were no
trenches and the only protection we had were the holes which we dug to
lie in. Things were flying and I did not take time to get my shovel,
which I had in my pack, but used my mess gear instead. We laid in those
holes for three days and dared not stick our heads up. If we did it
meant "taps," and that we would not have to answer "reveille" in the
morning. What we had to eat we had at night, and it was very little,
a French ration, consisting of "monkey meat" and French bread; but
anything tasted good. One night a lad from Texas, who was not satisfied
with his "Boudoir" in the ground, decided to change hotels. About that
time "Heinie" saved him the trouble by sending an eight-inch H. E.
which made a hole big enough to put a regiment in. So "Tex" decided
to take up quarters in it. He had just arrived in his new home (or
hole) when "Heinie" duplicated the order, which hit on the edge of the
first hole. "Tex" came sailing over my head. I first thought he had
joined the aviation, and was going to Heaven, but when I looked around
there was "Tex" sitting on the ground trying to find out if he was all
together, and cursing "Heinie" for being so attentive. Looking at me he
said:
"Can you imagine those Dutchmen sniping at me with an eight-inch gun?"
On the afternoon of June 6th, we received orders to pack up and we
all had the idea that we were to get a rest. All were counting on the
sleep and bath we would have. But no such luck. It was here when the
French had retreated so far that the artillery was no good to us, and
the general in charge of the division said the words that will remain
in history forever, "Retreat, Hell, we are going ahead." And we were
ordered to go "Over the Top" at 5.15. The order came at five o'clock.
I cannot describe the feeling one has while waiting for the word. It
seemed to me that the time would never come. But suddenly the silence
was broken by the blast of a whistle and we were on our way. The sun
was shining and the country looked wonderful, and across the wheat we
started, to reach our objective, which was the town of Bourches. We had
gone no more than about one hundred feet when our captain, the first
man to go down, was hit six times in the body. I began to realize then
what we were up against, for "Heinie" must have had a million machine
guns and they were all working.
The boys started to fall and all that was heard was, "I'm hit," or
"Heinie got me." A lad beside me "got it" in the ankle, and said to me:
"Kid, what do you think of that dirty bunch of Dutchmen. They won't
even let me get started. When you get into the town, kill ten for me."
I promised him I would, and left him. I don't know whether I fulfilled
my promise, but I told him I did when I saw him later in the hospital.
When I arrived at the town, which was our objective, there were
forty-seven left of 256 in our original company. The Germans were in
one end of the town and we were in the other, and, as the reader will
understand, one town could not hold both parties, so we started to move
"Heinie." Some of us were detailed to put "Heinie" out and it was no
easy job, for every "Heinie" had a machine gun. But it was the same old
story, they would fire their guns until we were on top of them, then
throw up their hands, shout "Kamerad" and beg for mercy. But after you
go through as far as that, you cease to be human and don't know what
mercy is. We reached our objective at 5.30 P.M. and at nine o'clock
by direction of one lieutenant, the only officer left in the company,
and a pal to all the boys, we had "Heinie" on the outside, the town
fortified, and nine hundred men put into the position. Again, and up
until the time I was hit, it was little or no sleep, for "Heinie"
insisted upon coming back into the town.
On the afternoon of June 10th, I was going after some water, and
some "Heinie" with a machine gun gave me my fare to the hospital, in
the form of a bullet in the knee. Some of the boys carried me into a
dugout, where I had to wait until dark, and then was carried to the
rear, put in a Ford ambulance and started to Paris. Twenty-seven miles
in a Ford, on a stretcher, is no joy ride, but it was good enough.
Then I reached the hospital in Paris. I had not had my clothes off for
fifty-seven days. When I got a bath and saw a bed, with white linen and
blankets, and something real to eat, I thought I was in paradise. After
the operation, all I could do was to sing, "Please go away and let me
sleep." After three months in the hospitals of France, I was put on a
transport and started for New York. I am now in the hospital, awaiting
discharge, and think it all a dream, and am in fear that some one will
pinch me, and I will wake up.
"MY DUTY TO MY COUNTRY"
BY PVT. JACK KNEELAND, NO. 105, 43RD CO., 5TH REGT., U. S. MARINES
WHEN the great World War was raging, and the United States were
preparing for any trouble that might occur between her and the Teutonic
Government, I was playing in vaudeville. April 6th we received word
that our Government declared war on Germany. Immediately I decided to
quit the show business and go into the service, but what branch I did
not know as I was unfamiliar with the different outfits of Uncle Sam's
noble army and navy. As I was walking down the street I happened to
notice different recruiting officers, appealing to the men to enlist
in the several outfits we have, for the sake of our folks at home, and
for democracy. I happened to think of the navy as a good chance, but as
I wished to be in the thick of the battles and excitement I decided it
was either the army or the United States Marines. While I was trying
to fix my mind on what I should do, a marine sergeant came and started
talking to me and asked me what I was going to do. I told him I was
ready for the worst, and that I was anxious to go across the water and
do my bit. He said that the United States Marines was the place for
me, a boy with the spirit Americans wanted. Well, it did not take me
long to make up my mind, and shortly I was being examined by the doctor
for physical fitness. I was confident I would pass the rigid test that
is given to the marines as I had never had an illness of any kind in
my life. After the examination I was told I was 100 per cent perfect,
and sworn in as a private in the soldiers of the sea, as we call the
marines. First to fight on land and sea. Three days later I was called
to depart for Paris Island, S. C., where I was to get my training. I
arrived the 15th of April and was immediately sent to a quarantine
station where all preparations were given, such as clothes, finger
prints taken, and then I was finally sworn in once more, on the 21st
day of April. After all these proceedings were over, I was sent to the
maneuvering ground where the greatest task lay. We drilled from morning
until late in the evening, but I did not mind it as I knew that it was
for a good purpose. Digging trenches, hand grenade practice, bayonet
drills and rifle practice were our continual routine, for fully three
months. I was then transferred to Marine Barracks, Philadelphia, for
duty, where I was assigned to the 5th Regiment to be ready for overseas
duty.
[Illustration: PRIVATE JACK KNEELAND]
On the 21st day of August, we received word to get ready to sail.
We were then given overseas equipment and boarded the transport
_Henderson_. We went to New York, where we loaded supplies and stores
for the trip, and started on our way to No Man's Land at midnight
the 22d. As the submarines were active at that time we were somewhat
delayed in getting there. But we finally arrived without a scratch. We
landed on the 7th day of September in St. Nazarre, France. There we
were taken to the Rue Du Chateau, where we were assigned to barracks.
Here we received our severe training. It was drill morning, school in
afternoon, drill in evening, for two and a half months. After this we
were ready for anything that might be needed of us.
On the 17th of November our commander received orders to take our men
to the Flanders Front, where we were to hold the southeastern corner
of the Marne with the Australian Anzacs. We immediately departed and
arrived there on a very rainy day.
Now comes the first real encounter the Americans took part in. The
Germans sent us a rapid shell fire from their position opposite to
us. We immediately sent back an intense machine gun fire. The battle
raged on for seventeen hours. I received a wound in the leg and was
immediately sent to base hospital where I was at once treated. We were
treated fine because the French now realized that we were with them in
heart and soul. I remained in hospital twenty-three days, and then was
sent back to the Front, this time to join the 43rd Regt., 2nd Division,
who were holding a front in Belgium on the Cambrai side. We advanced
and took several little towns around Soissons and stopped at St.
Quentin which was being shelled by the Austrians. We took position and
immediately started offensive. We succeeded in capturing two thousand
prisoners who were sent to one of the French prison camps. After this
encounter we were sent to rest camps, where our clothes were replaced
by new ones, and allowed to visit the neighboring towns for seventy-two
hours. I, with a comrade who you will read about later, went to Paris
and had a very good time.
The French people could think of nothing too good for us. After having
a fine time, we reported back and occupied the second line, with the
Canadians, and once more at Sartormai I was sent with a message to
Major General Leonard Wood. It was a dispatch of fifty-three miles and
I was to do this in an hour and ten minutes. I had a Harley Twin Six,
and I started out. It was about 9.30, Paris time, when I was passing
through a lonely village, a German sniper picked me off in the head. I
regained consciousness and fired my Colt automatic and got my man. I
succeeded in reaching my destination two minutes before time; but in an
unconscious condition. I guess the good Lord was good to me and brought
me to life again so that I could explain my mission. I was taken to
Base Hospital No. 3, where my wound was treated with care and the
lead extracted. For two weeks and a half I was practically senseless.
My memory was impaired, caused by the shock of the bullet, and the
intense speed I was going. In this hospital I met a German who had been
captured and had been sent to the hospital to be treated for a scalp
wound. He was a very well-educated boy, about nineteen years old and
could speak English very well.
He told me about how, against his will, he was dragged in and made to
fight for Prussianism when he always believed in democracy. It almost
brought tears to my eyes to listen to his story about the people who
were wishing that the Kaiser and the Teutonic power would be killed,
instead of taking every young fellow against his will and making him
fight. I soon recovered, bid this boy good-bye, and moved on to the
second division, who were still occupying Flanders Front.
One day while wading through mud, a big shell exploded in front of us
and we lost a great number of men, and I fell into the shell crater
with nine other men. The crater must have been forty feet deep, with
about three feet of mud at the surface. Here we did not eat for five
days. We had to drink the green slime and mud so that we might not
perish from thirst. Every time we wanted to sleep we would fall in this
mud and wake up all caked with it. We were finally rescued by a French
patrol party, and given plenty of food and nourishment to put us on our
feet again. We were sent to a convalescent camp, and told to do nothing
but rest. After resting for a month I was again placed in position with
our snipers, with Private Al Barker as my companion. I at once took
position in the limbs of a tree, so that I could notice any patrols
that might pass. On our southern corner we saw a raiding party of
Germans, fixing their machine guns to clean up a town called St. Forme.
We immediately opened fire on these men, and succeeded in picking off
a large majority of them. Suddenly my comrade received a wound in the
knee and fell to the ground. I descended and, picking him up, carried
him safely to our lines, receiving at the same time three bullet wounds.
We were sent to Base Hospital No. 16, where we were operated on. It
seemed as though it was a year before we were well. Finally we were
sent to the front at Belleau Woods. This place was approximately the
turning point of the war. It is situated thirty-eight miles from Paris,
and the Crown Prince's army were trying to advance through it. Here for
forty-eight hours we were continually on the alert, always watching the
Germans. We did not eat for forty hours.
On the 18th of July at 12.03 A.M. we received the call to arms. We
were ordered to advance to the Forest of Père where a great number of
Germans were operating. We traveled seven and a half miles on foot and
placed ourselves on the southeastern part of Chateau-Thierry. We opened
fire immediately, and this is where the bloodiest encounter of our
service took place. We succeeded in starving our opponents and cut off
all their ammunition. It was a big disaster to us as they outnumbered
us four to one. After the British had been thrown back, the marines
took the field and succeeded in annihilating the Crown Prince's army.
Of our battalion, of one thousand men, only 147 survived, and
practically all of these were wounded. The Germans, seeing that they
were beaten, immediately sent over their fumes of deadly mustard gas
and liquid fire. I happened to be one of the unlucky ones and received
a big dose of it. It fairly burned the clothes from my back, blinding
me instantly, and deafened me. I was taken to Base Hospital No. 23
where I remained forty-two days. After I had recovered a little I was
sent to a convalescent camp to await my departure for the good old
U. S. A. On September 24th I sailed from Brest and arrived safely in
Hoboken, October 3, 1918.
THE "DARDANELLES" CAMPAIGN
BY SGT. M. L. NICHOLSON, NO. 3736, 10TH LIVERPOOL SCOTTISH, B.E.F.
AT THE outbreak of the war I enlisted in the 10th Liverpool Scottish
Regiment, B.E.F. It was at 2.30 P.M. on September 14, 1914, I went into
the recruiting office, and offered my services. The captain looked at
me and said, "I am afraid you are too young." I was then seventeen
years of age. With tears in my eyes I walked out only to meet my six
pals who were in kilts. One of them, "Vic" Gordon, said:
"Come back at five o'clock and try again;" so I made up my mind I would
get in the army at five o'clock that day, and I was accepted, I think,
because they were so busy in the office that they did not notice me.
Well, I went home the day after with my knees all bare; perhaps for the
first time since my childhood. My folks just roared and laughed at me,
saying, "You will never make a soldier," and a lot more things that
made my Scotch blood boil.
I stayed at home for three days before I was called, and then, only
then did I know what being a soldier meant. The first thing was to
learn how to turn and salute, then came a route march, around the
country for ten miles. It was no joke with great big army boots that
weighed about fifteen pounds,--it seemed that much to me. After being
in the army for about four weeks, we were brought to the fields to
drill. What I could not understand was, that they put cows and other
animals into this big field the night before and that field was just
terrible for a man to walk on, let alone lay down in. We were all
wondering what we were going to do, and, I can tell you, it wasn't long
before we found out. The captain came up to us and said:
"All right, boys, we are ready for some drill in this field."
You should have seen the look on some of the boys' faces. I may mention
that some of them were bankers and lawyers and even millionaires' sons.
I heard one man say in a typical English way: "Oh! isn't the army
beastly, old man."
[Illustration: SERGT. MARK L. NICHOLSON]
Of course, not being used to army life, it would make any man swear,
but as the days rolled on we all got used to it. They moved us from a
place called "Slop Field" in Liverpool to a place called No Man's Field
in Blackpool. Every day it rained we would go on this field for
extended order drill. At any rate we became used to army life in, what
I thought, a very short time. It was in November, 1914, about seven
o'clock when we arrived at Southampton, and were put up, for the night,
in stables, with damp blankets to cover ourselves. After that night I
began to suspect something. I just sat down to think that they were
breaking us in for France. We were in this place till December 3rd and
at twelve that night we sailed for an unknown destination. We arrived
at a place called Le Havre, France. There I met with an accident.
A horse kicked me in the right leg, and put me out of business for
a month. That was my start to see real life. I was fixed up by the
Red Cross and sent to a battalion called the Lancashire Fusileers.
We left France and arrived in London, January 10th. They gave us ten
days leave, and packed us on a big liner called the _Alaunia_. We
left on this liner and I did not know where I was until we arrived at
Gibraltar. We were there for five hours--then set sail for Malta. We
received orders not to leave the ship as we would not be there more
than twelve hours, and that twelve hours seemed like twelve years. We
could see all the people and shops but we could not get to them. We
sailed away from Malta to an unknown destination. About one hundred
miles out to sea we received orders to turn back, on account of the
submarines being very active around that district, but an hour after
we received that message, we had orders to proceed on our journey, and
all the way we could see dead horses and boxes floating on the water.
We were told later that a ship had been torpedoed a short distance in
front of us. We were out three days when we sighted land, and, believe
me, it was a treat, as the drill on the ship was very bad. The boys had
to scrub out their bunks and the decks, and others had to keep watch
all night, for the little devils in the water. Anyway, it was a great
relief when we disembarked at Alexandria, Egypt. It was some place. I
met people from all over the world. We were taken over to the barracks
and a very funny thing happened. I was in charge of twenty-four men,
and let me tell you they were all rough necks. I asked one how he liked
the place and he said:
"Oh, I would like to be in the Bee Hotel, playing a game of pool." He
had just time to get those words out of his mouth when a man with a big
cigar in his mouth put his arm around his neck and shouted:
"Tom! my dear brother."
You should have seen how they hugged and kissed each other for about
fifteen minutes. All this time the rest of the boys were trying to make
out the Arabs. They were visitors, looking at us with open mouths.
We had our drill on a desert and with a broiling sun on us all the
time. We left Alexandria the latter end of March, 1915, and arrived
at Lemnos, a Greek Island, later used as a hospital base. After we
left Lemnos in a convoy of about fifteen ships we arrived at our
destination, the Dardanelles. All that we could see in front of us was
a great big hill. Later we found out they called it Kemara Hill. The
spirit of everyone was good. We were issued 200 rounds of ammunition
and carried our packs on our backs. All that I could hear from the boys
was:
"We will take that hill by the morning."
Little did we know what was in store for us. Orders came to disembark,
so we all helped to lower the life boats, and climbed down the rope
ladders into them. I was all settled down with the rest of the boys to
make a clean landing without the Turks knowing. Up came a tug boat and
took about ten small boats in tow.
Just at that moment we were under fire. The big battleships opened up,
and it was some bombardment. The 15-inch guns on the _Queen Elizabeth_
let go with the rest. We were about twenty yards off the beach when,
before my eyes, I saw my comrades fall in the water, boats capsizing,
rifles in the air, and arms and legs flying around. On seeing this our
tug turned toward Cape Hellos, on the right of West Beach, and every
man made for the water. Some managed to get on land. You see, the
Turks, mastered by German officers, put barbed wire entanglements into
the water. They knew we could only land in small boats as the water was
not deep enough for a liner to get close. As the life boats turned,
they got tangled in the wire and overturned. Some of the boys tried to
grasp hold of the wire, but had to let go, as it cut their hands, and
of course they were drowned. We lost an awful number of men before the
real scrap began, and I will say it was some landing. I did not believe
I could come through this bit of a scrap. When I landed I looked to
see if I was all there. The Turks had trenches right up to the water's
edge, and, God bless those Australians, they drove the Turks out of the
first line and gave us a chance to land. I asked a chap next to me what
he thought of it and how he liked it. Well, he gave me a look enough
to kill me, and said, "Well, the first five years is the worst. After
that I suppose we will get used to it."
I was five days on land when I began to feel the strain of not having
enough food or water. Water was scarce and my mouth was all blistered,
it was so hot. We were getting a little supply of water and biscuits
from the ships. They came in gasoline cans that had not been washed out
properly, but we were so thirsty that we did not bother about the taste.
When I received my wound on the head, I did not know what hit me, but I
found myself on board a boat called _Andania_, a sister ship to the one
I left England in. I had a big bandage stuck on my head and was shipped
to Lemnos. I lost my memory for a bit and they called me a serious
case, so they packed me to a hospital in Alexandria. I fell unconscious
again for ten hours and, as I opened my eyes, I could just see a pair
of lovely blue ones looking down at me, and a little motherly hand
grasped mine. I cannot explain the feeling in my heart in words, when
I saw it was a mother. I called her mother because she was a Red Cross
nurse. The first thing she asked me was, "Can I write a letter home
for you?" You can imagine what I said. I had not heard from home since
I left, and I told her to write and say I was all right and would be
home soon. I was in that hospital three weeks and every day I would ask
that lovely mother to write for me, as I was too weak to write myself.
It broke my heart when I had to leave that hospital as all the nurses
were so kind to me. I sailed on a hospital ship for England and was put
in a hospital in Liverpool, my own home town. In this hospital there
was a funny Irish boy who had come from France and was all covered with
bandages. I made a pal of him, and the jokes he used to tell me made me
forget the pain. One Wednesday a lady came to see us in the hospital
and looked at me, saying:
"Were you hurt at the Front," and my Irish pal answered for me, saying:
"No, ma'am, sure he tripped over a match stick and sure a fly kicked
him."