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Chapter 14

"On the St. Quentin-Cambrai Front"
An installment of Newton's diary as it originally appeared in the newspaper
Book: 
"Over There For Uncle Sam"
Page Range: 
September 22 - September 28, 1918

September 22, 1918

At 7:30 in the morning we load on British lorries and buses and ride to Bernes, 85 kilometers from Talmas, passing through Amiens, one of France's largest cities and railroad centers. But only a few civilians remain in this city now as the Germans, who have recently been driven back, continually shelled and bombed it. Passing through the effects of German shells and bombs can be noticed on several of the buildings. Unloading from the lorries and buses at Bernes we pitch "pup" tents in a small thicket near the main road that leads to the lines. Bernes, according to some Australian soldiers, used to be a thriving little village, but now it lies in total ruins, not a building standing. The Germans have even used the vaults in the French cemetery nearby as quarters for their own officers. The dead have been unearthed from their graves and their bones lie scattered about the cemetery. Australian artillerymen have their horses hitched to a picket line near the graves. From Amiens to Bernes all we could see was destroyed villages and barren fields with trenches running through them, with shell holes everywhere. The whole country between these two places lies in ruins. Here and there crosses, rifles drove in the ground, and other similar tombstones, mark the resting places of friend and foe alike, who have fallen in the recent fighting. German prisoners working on the roads we travel over beg us for cigarettes as we pass. The steady roar of the guns all around remind us that we are at the front again. We feel that before we are relieved again that we will go through some real fighting. The rumor has already gotten out that we (the regiment and division) are to take part in a big offensive.

September 23, 1918

The morning is spent building homes, every two men digging a small dug-out and covering it with whatever could be gotten to cover it with. Most of the fellows get sheet iron and cover their dug-outs, throwing a thick layer of dirt over it. It takes all the morning for my partner and I to get enough material to finish our new home. Our captain gives us a special warning not to pick up or touch anything such as German helmets, bayonets, rifles, hand-grenades, and other things we think would be good souvenirs for the folks at home as they are dangerous and sometimes tied to bombs for the purpose of getting suckers. At night I walk to where a search-light is, and watch it search for "Jerries" that come over during the night. It is midnight before I return to my "home in the ground" and go to bed.

September 24, 1918

We work on a railroad about 30 minutes and are then ordered to report back to where the company is temporarily stationed. Returning here we are ordered to roll full packs immediately and a few minutes after this is completed we are on the march, headed for "somewhere." We stop at Hervilly, another destroyed village, four kilometers from Bernes and "dig in" and pitch "pup" tents next to what used to be a large building, but now only a wall remains ("dig in," we are now near enough to the lines that we can be bombed at night, and in order to be protected from pieces of exploding bombs we dig a hole in the ground large enough for us to lay in.) I visit some Australian soldiers after supper and we have a long talk. These soldiers are billeted in an old building that has partially been destroyed by shell fire. It is late in the night before I go to my tent and "turn in."

September 25, 1918

Early in the morning we are on the move again, marching with full packs towards the lines (trenches occupied by friend and foe), stopping this time in the shell-wrecked village of Jeancourt, where we are assigned to dug-outs also occupied by Australians. We are to be with them for several days, it being rumored that we would go in battle with them. We fall into a long talk (we are put in dug-outs with Australians) with the "Aussies" as they are familiarly known, and they tell us about lots of things that are of importance to a raw soldier (one who has never been in battle). We get them to tell of the drive in which they drove the Germans from Amiens. The "Aussie's" advice to us is never to be taken prisoners, for they claim that the Germans torture their prisoners alive. We believe them for they have been on the firing line long enough to know. The "Aussie" is a large, heavy built fellow and good-natured, and a fearless fighter, a fighter that the Germans fear. They remind me of our western soldiers in size and in talk. They have no use for the Germans, as they have treated the few Australian prisoners captured with cruelty. They are 10 of us in the dug-out, six being "Aussies."

September 26, 1918

We haven't anything to do all day but stay around the dug-outs so in case we are wanted we can be found. All day long lorries loaded with ammunition, food and other supplies move in long lines toward the trenches. Heavy guns pulled by lorries and field and light guns pulled by horses have their places in these long lines moving forward. The Germans and Australian and English artillerymen shell each other all day long. We are just a few yards from a dressing station and we can see the wounded coming in at all times, the wounded men being mostly Americans, men from our division. All one can hear is "When is the big stunt coming off?" Of course we don't know, but we always make a guess and tell them in a day or two. It is a certain fact though that in a few days the storm is going to break, and that our division will be the division to make the attack on the town of Bellicourt, held by the Germans, and said to be one of the strongest points on the Hindenburg line. In the afternoon I walk over a large field where a recent battle had been fought. Shell holes, old rusty rifles and bayonets, pieces of old uniforms, and other such things are scattered over the field. I stop a while where several batteries of English artillery are firing and ask one of the English sergeants to let me fire one of the big guns. He said he would the next shot and before I got five feet away the cord was pulled and I left without waiting for the next shot as this one had jarred me enough for one time. I stopped a little farther up the road and some Englishmen let me look through a glass they are looking at a German 'plane that is flying over, observing. The guns cease firing and the gunners threw camouflage over their guns until the "Jerry" had beat it. I return to the dug-out about 4:30 p.m. One of our fellows in the company gets injured pretty badly by picking up a German hand-grenade. I sleep between a fellow from my platoon and an Australian corporal.

September 27, 1918

Food and ammunition and guns of every caliber continue to come up in long lines. The roads are crowded with vehicles going and coming, bringing supplies and going after more. The big "stunt" is expected to come off any day. The shelling on both sides becomes more severe and the big guns begin to warm up. Two big guns about 400 yards below us in a small hollow keep up a continuous fire all night. It does not sound very good to hear the German shells scream over at night, especially those that burst nearby. Late in the afternoon we watch two air battles in which two 'planes are shot down in flames. One of the fights occurred just over our dug-outs. Four of us fellows are drawing water at a well when the battle starts, but we soon find cover under nearby bushes. The fellows standing on the hillside (the dug-outs are on the side of a hill) soon beat it to their dug-outs. One of the German 'planes suddenly dives on the road, firing his machine guns as he dives into the traffic going and coming. The wounded continue to come in, though only a few at a time, the most of the wounded having been gassed, some slightly and others severely. At night the German artillery opens up a terrific fire on the English and Australian batteries stationed in the ruins of the village, some of the shells falling short of their range and exploding near our dug-outs. Things get pretty warm for a while.

September 28, 1918

We clean and oil our files and bayonets and make a last inspection of our gas masks for the word is passed that we will see some fighting within the next 36 hours. Ammunition and guns come up in great numbers; guns that have been stationed near us edge up farther to the lines. In the afternoon more American infantrymen, out of our division, begin marching by and sun-down find them still passing. Ambulances arrive at the dressing station and park in some shrubbery near them, while scores of them go to other dressing station, to receive the wounded when the battle starts. It looks as if a great storm is about to break. At sun-down lorries loaded with picks, shovels, axes, sign boards and white tape arrive in front of our dug-outs and unload. These tools are to be used by the company and the Australians when the battle starts. Another German 'plane is shot down in flames in the afternoon in an air battle, in which several 'planes are engaged. At 4 p.m. we are lined up with the Australians and our work is explained to us in detail. The first, second, and third platoons are mixed with Australians, while the fourth platoon remains intact. We are to keep the roads clear-for the artillery to go over when the battle starts. These are the words our lieutenant used in telling us we were going into a battle soon. You are going into your first real battle and I expect every one of you to do your share. Don't stop if your buddies get killed or wounded, but say tough luck and pass on." After his talk is over we ask different questions concerning our work and about other things that we want to know more about. The guns continue their regular fire all day, shells falling among the hidden batteries below us continually. Guns below us keep up a continuous fire on through the night. German 'planes fly over at night and bomb the surrounding area trying to put some of the artillery out of action. Some of their bombs fall close enough to jar our dug-outs. The final fray is but a few hours off.

Source: 

Charlotte Observer, October 3, 1920