Chapter 15

September 29, 1918

We get up at 1 o'clock in the morning and make light packs, which we are to carry with us, and the rest of our equipment we roll into rolls and tag, and throw into one corner of the dug-out. Each platoon has a special dug-out to put their rolls and the dug-out I am in is designated as the one for the fourth platoon fellows to put theirs. Finishing our rolls we go to the kitchen and get breakfast, drawing our day's rations at the same time, which consisted of three slices of bread, one slice of cheese, a slice of "willie" and two hardtacks. To every two men a can of pork and beans is issued in addition to what has already been given us. In our light packs we carry our raincoats, mess-kits, iron rations (a can of "willie" in a small sack of hard-tacks) and the rations we have just been issued for the day. Our iron rations are not to be eaten unless cut off from the division, and not then until the one who may be in charge says we can. We lose no time in getting in readiness to go for 2 a.m. finds us marching toward the trenches, armed with picks, shovels, tape, sign boards and sign posts, rifles, bayonets and ammunition. Before leaving we are issued two packages of English cigarettes and a box of matches. As we march toward the trenches very little is said. The road we are marching on seems to be deserted by any other soldiers. No one is allowed to smoke or sing. Occasionally a shell bursts near, but not near enough that we have to fall to the ground. Three-twenty a. m. finds us in a trench with a company of infantry that is being held in reserve, with the front line trenches a short distance ahead. Our lieutenant says, we can now smoke if we wish to do so, if we will keep in the bottom of the trench and not look over the top of it while smoking. We are told that the barrage starts at 5:45 a. m. by artillery time, and the fellows who have watches are instructed to set them by the lieutenant's time which he has gotten from an artillery officer. We learn, by talking with the infantrymen in the trench that they belong to the 117th infantry, and that the entire regiment is being held in reserve, to go in after the other regiments have started the battle, and keep the Huns on the go. They are all cheerful and anxiously waiting for the opportunity to make a drive on the Huns. When asked what we were going to do, we tell them build and repair roads, not really knowing what we would do before the day was over. At 5 a. m. the machine guns start a barrage of their own, followed in a few minutes by the light guns stationed in front of us. We think that is, at first, the real barrage, but we soon find out different. The barrage does not start at the time the lieutenant said it would, but five minutes later, 5:50 a. m., hundreds of light, field and heavy guns open a terrific fire on the German trenches. At first we can hardly hear ourselves speak, but as the shelling goes on we gradually get use to the racket. The flashes from the guns keep the skies lit up for kilometers around. It was a great sight to watch the flashes from the mighty guns as they poured shrapnel and shell into the Germans. At last we are at the beginning of a real battle between prussianism and democracy and we are to fight on the side of democracy that the world may forever be free from the peril of prussianism; that never again will we have to leave our peaceful pursuits and cross an ocean to fight against such barbarians. Just as the sun is peeping from o'er the hills, we hop out of the trench we are in and start forward using the doughboys as our guides. We go only a short distance, then halt and wait for the infantry to move forward. In a few minutes we are going again, but our go in short, for we again halt, this time right among scores of guns of every size that are firing into the Germans as fast as they can load and re-load. The gunners fire their guns just as unconcerned as if there were nothing of a dangerous nature going on. Looking a little to my right I see three bodies covered with raincoats, and by those and cartridge belts lying near, I can tell they are Americans, who have just gone "west" (been killed) for Uncle Sam, and for the great cause for which they were fighting. Nearby on our left are machine gunners in small hastily dug holes, prepared to repulse any counter attack the Germans might attempt to make and to protect the artillery until it could withdraw in case of such an attack. Soon we are moving again, going a longer distance than before. This time when we halt our lieutenant signals "take cover" or in other words find a shell hole and get in it, losing no time in doing so. A short while after we had gotten into shell holes a score of machine gun bullets whizz over us. Being in a cramped position I take a chance and sit up a few seconds. The infantry we were following has also taken cover, and hardly a soldier is in sight. Looking up again I see a few yards ahead four German prisoners bringing back a wounded man, who also turns out to be a German. An Australian soldier (belonging to the medical corps) stops them and motions for the wounded German to be set down, making the four Germans carrying the wounded one take off their blouses and put them on him (the wounded German). This leaves the four nearly bare back, having on only sleeveless thin undershirts. The "Aussie" points towards the rear and away they go, happy of the opportunity to get off of the battlefield and out of danger. Another thing happens that makes us all take notice. (We are in a small shell hole a few feet from the Australian and need not run any risk of getting hit by machine gun or rifle bullets to see him.) An American sergeant, with one of his arms shot off above the elbow and wounded in the face, walks up to the Australian and asks for a cigarette and a drink of water. "Sure, Yank," replies the "Aussie," and in a few seconds the sergeant is drinking from the "Aussie's" canteen. Getting a cigarette lit the sergeant starts for the dressing station. The Germans start sending over high shrapnel which bursts several yards over head making it pretty "windy" for us fellows in the shell holes. After having been in the shell holes for about 30 minutes we move forward again, passing by the first and second platoons, who are busy filling newly made shell holes and removing from the path of the artillery destroyed wagons and other old useless material. Scores of dead Americans and Australians and Germans can be seen lying about the field, some covered with raincoats and overcoats, while others lie just as they fell. Walking wounded are going back in twos and threes, while those unable to walk are being carried off the field as rapidly as possible under the circumstances. Men with arms shot off, with slight shrapnel wounds in the face and slightly wounded in the body are being helped to the rear by German prisoners and by other men similarly wounded. Dead horses are lying here and there, but I fail to notice any wounded ones, for they are killed by their drivers as soon as they get hit so they can't travel. Packs, rifles, cartridge belts, wrecked ammunition wagons, hand-grenades and ammunition of every size and kind are scattered everywhere in great quantities. Pretty soon we reach an old railroad track, where part of the infantry had "hopped" off. Crossing the track we go into what used to be No Man's Land. Dead Germans are lying about by the scores, some of them having been killed for days, their own officers letting them rot rather than bury them. Pretty soon we find ourselves on the main Hindenburg line! Barbed wire entanglements are in evidence everywhere, though lots of it has been torn down by the artillery fire and the tanks. Every few yards we have to cross over this wire where the tanks have been. We stop a while at what once used to be a small thicket but now it looks as if goats had been in it for weeks. Trenches running through this once thicket are filled with dead, mostly Germans. Soon we are moving forward again going to what is known as the Black road, the road that we are supposed to work on further down. The part of the road we stop in is sunken deep enough so that a fellow can stand upright and then escape the machine gun bullets that are continually coming over the pieces of exploding shells and shrapnel. The road is crowded with infantry and engineers and we are ordered to move back a few hundred feet to keep the road from getting further crowded, and on the order of our lieutenant we take cover in shell holes, but we hardly get settled before we have to come out of them and go back to the sunken part of the road. Soon we are told to take cover again for Fritz gets reckless with his artillery and we go back into shell holes, as they are about the safest place on the battlefield. There are four Australians and six of us fellows from the fourth platoon in one shell hole. It has about six inches of mud and water in the bottom and we try to keep out of this, but the bursting of shells pretty close to our hole makes us get as far in the bottom as possible. After having been in this shell hole for over an hour large British tanks begin passing by us (we are sitting in a shell hole only a few feet from a road) followed by artillery. Fritz directs a special fire on these, sending shells over in twos, threes, and fours. As the last of the artillery is passing a whiss-bang hits a few feet into the mud and water, some of the fellows laying on top of others. A sergeant from our platoon is covered with mud from head to foot. Three of the fellows leave the shell hole in quick succession and go in search of other cover. Two other fellows soon follow their example and lease also, saying they had had enough of this shell hole. Before all of the artillery has passed only three of us remain, an "Aussie" a medical fellow and myself. A wounded and a shell shocked man came to our shell hole to wait until the firing slackened so they can go to the rear. They asked for water, but our water supply is gone and we are unable to help them in that way, but the medical fellow dresses the wounded, who had been hit in the fact and arm by shrapnel, and the two decide to continue on towards the rear. The shell shocked fellow was in a bad condition, hardly able to stand up and seemed unconscious of anything that is happening. He was shaking all over, and was indeed a finished soldier so far as his services in the field were concerned. After I have been in the shell hole for nearly three hours I make a run for a trench not far away. Everybody has left the shell hole except an "Aussie," and he soon joins us fellows in the trench, which is filled with Australian infantry reserves. Fritz sends over several high shrapnel shells, so that any one in the trenches would be in serious danger direct from the German guns. Knowing this I make a run for a dug-out, one of the many shell proof ones that the Germans have built on this famous line to protect his own soldiers from the artillery fire of the troops facing them. I fail to get in at the first entrance I go to, but going to the other entrance (there are always two entrances to a dug-out) I succeed in getting in. The dug-out is crowded with our infantry and engineers and with Australians. But I was not long to enjoy this place of safety for our lieutenant calls for eight men from our company to carry two wounded men to the first aid station. It takes nearly 20 minutes to get the eight men, as there was so much noise one could hardly hear the lieutenant's voice. We start a few minutes after 3 p. m., going across a large field and then following a destroyed railroad track for several hundred yards. As we are crossing a wide depth of barbed wire entanglements a gas shell falls close by, but we are unaware of it until we notice the sergeant a few feet ahead of us put on his mask. We thought at first it was only powder from the guns that burned our throats and eyes, but we when we find out the difference it is too late, for when we put our masks on we have to take them off, being unable to wear them. The gas makes our eyes run water, while the burning of our throats makes us spit continually, for a long while. We take our stretchers and move on, stopping every few minutes for a rest. We finally reach a trench where we sit out stretchers and stop for a long rest. After having gotten over the worst part of the battlefield and having been in the trench for nearly 40 minutes we begin the last part of our journey to the first aid station, which we reach at sun-down. There are scores of wounded men here. We lay our two wounded men at the end of a long row of these wounded that are waiting to be dressed, and then sit down for a rest. This first aid station is in a small quarry and ambulances are unable to reach it, the wounded men at the end of a long row of these wounded that are waiting to be dressed, and then sit down for a rest. This first aid station is in a small quarry and ambulances are unable to reach it, the wounded as they are dressed being carried to a road a few hundred yards away by the German prisoners and loaded in waiting ambulances. As there are so many wounded men to be dressed we do not ask for any attention (tear gas only causes a fellow to spit and his eyes to burn and run water for a while. It is sent over by Fritz to put a fellow in such a condition that he cannot wear his mask, then the deadly gas is sent over and it does the work.) Having rested here several minutes we start for camp, our day's work being finished, reaching there after an hour's walk. The company has moved to an old trench near Villeret. After eating supper we search for our rolls, that are in a large pile. Finding it we get a pick and shovel and dig it and pitch "pup" tents on the bank of the trench as the trench is filled. The fellows come in all during the night by twos and more. "Jerries" come over the lines and begin bombing some heavy guns near us, being sore no doubt at the way the "Yanks" treated them during the day. How I came out unscratched is a mystery to me but some had to be killed, some wounded and some came out sound and O. K. The great impregnable Hindenburg line has been broken by national guardsmen from North Carolina, South Carolina, and Tennessee!