HISTORY
OF THE 305th Infantry
by
Frank Tiebout
Chapter 6
THE
ADVANCE TO THE AISNE
CHAPTER VI
THE ADVANCE TO THE AISNE
THE Second Battalion had been relieved again, dragging
its weary feet back to Mareuil en Dole all through the
night of September 1st, moving on backward the following
night through Nesle to Sergy, twenty kilos from the
front. "Next morning, we started in before breakfast
to pick cooties from our clothes by the hundreds, to
splash in the River Ourcq, a dinky stream hardly big
enough to hold a fish, and to lie around naked in the
grass. First call for drill blew. We cursed like Bowery
hoboes for we were tired, and they were starting to hand
out their dizzy orders to drill. All we wanted was an
opportunity to write home; but no chance, as they figured
on getting all the work they could out of us. That was
unfair, for we done our work well and figured we earned a
rest for all the stuff that was pulled off up on the
Vesle."
The night of the 3d
the tired troops were roused from their slumbers by a
stirring, Call to Arms. Messengers ran up with orders to
roll combat packs and be ready to move out at a moment's
notice. After waiting interminably, an officer hiked to
Battalion Headquarters for further instructions, only to
find the entire establishment sound asleep.
But by noon of the
following day, it was rumored that the German was on the
run. Off to the northward packed the troops in haste,
picking up rations, ordnance and ammunition amidst all
the hustle and bustle and flurry at Nesle. As far as the
old positions at Mareuil en Dole the columns struggled
under a broiling sun, only to be ordered onward to the
Bois de Mareuil, where every man got two hand grenades,
ammunition for rifle, pistol and Chauchat, and the
weighty old rifle grenades. The tromblons or grenade
dischargers were long since conveniently "lost"
on account of their weight. But there was no rest for
weary bodies. The other battalions had crossed the river,
and this one must occupy a strong position in old St.
Thibaut. There it rested for the night, thoroughly spent.
The success of de
Rhara's patrol had sent the entire First Battalion under
temporary command of Captain Purcell over the river to
positions previously designated on the plateau to the
north. The Third Battalion followed under command of
Lieutenant Husband, Major Woodward having been evacuated,
sick. An order to resume the advance kept the men on
their feet most of the night. In skirmish line they
ploughed around in circles, one company hopelessly lost,
accomplishing an advance of about two kilometers.
How different St.
Thibaut looked at dusk, as the Second Battalion filed
through, even more crumpled and twisted than it had been
three days before. Old Number Thirteen was still
standing. But instead of shells crashing right and left,
instead of the streets being deserted, here were columns
of troops in single file, motor trucks, limbers,
fourgons, ammunition trains boldly occupying avenues down
which had poured streams of machine gun bullets,
waist-high and whistling. There was the old First Aid
station, now a pile of stone and dust, and the embankment
where the first casualties had occurred; but the
curiosity seekers were to be denied further reminiscent
investigation. Enemy shelling had diverted traffic to the
west over a hastily constructed bridge and through the
old railroad yards where the 306th had a week before lost
the better part of an entire company in attacking
Bazoches. Here and there lay the dead of the previous
month's fighting, although burying and salvaging parties
had that day started a search and a cleaning up of the
former No Man's Land.
The advance through
Bazoches was as calm and quiet as the seventh inning of a
world's series game at the Polo Grounds - there was
shelling a little bit further up the river, the enemy
having the wrong tip on our bridges. We crossed the
battered railroad track behind which forward elements had
once dug for protection, and which we secretly hoped the
engineers would rapidly reconstruct so that we could use
it soon when moving out to a rest area.
Skirting the town,
other columns struggled through the jam of vehicular
traffic to the Rheims-Rouen road, thence east and north
around the base of the ominous hill which had confronted
us for so many days, and from which the Germans had
poured down on our heads a rain of machine gun bullets,
" Minnies " and 88's. Full in the road lay the
body of a German soldier -over which the trucks were
passing, to and fro. "Ah" said the boys,
"there's a good German!"
About ten
kilometers for the most part a lofty plateau cleft at
intervals by steep ravines-lay between St. Thibaut and
the Aisne. Although the Germans were mighty anxious to
reach the heights of the Chemin des Dames north of the
Aisne, they sought to retard the advance of the Americans
as, much as possible while defenses were being prepared.
Their machine gun fire and heavy shellfire swept the
heights over which the Regiment passed; yet casualties
were comparatively slight.
Major Metcalf had
rejoined and on the morning of the 6th constituted and
held down the frontline all by himself. With a couple of
runners he went forward of Vauxcere and Pincon Farm and
located the large cave behind Longueval as a possible
headquarters, sending back for his staff and corralling
the scattered companies. It had been reported that the
307th had rapidly advanced beyond that point on the right
- that the 28th Division, further to the right, had
reached the Aisne-and " for God's sake, hurry
up." They were nowhere near the river! The 307th was
blocked at Petite Montagne. On our right, the
"front" extended sharply to the southeast,
leaving about three kilometers of flank exposed. Our
sector stuck out like a sore thumb! D Company had been
ordered into position to the right of Villers en
Praye'res, and had sought shelter from a terrific burst
of shelling in a small ravine where they were virtually
imprisoned for several days. B Company entered the latter
village and took position in the outskirts of it, A
Company extending to the left. The Third Battalion was
hurried into the breach offered by the exposed flank,
unable to make much effective progress in the dead of
night, but hoping to get there before the enemy could
launch a counter attack, which would have been disastrous
indeed for b Company in its precarious position.
At this juncture, a
message came through from the French to the effect that
they politely and earnestly hoped for the capture of
Longueval. Major Metcalf sat calmly on a log several
kilos beyond it. A few minutes before, the 1st sergeant
and clerk of C Company had stumbled into it seeking
shelter, and hoping to find some point where the affairs
of the company might be administered. Since it was
"held" by a 1st sergeant and a company clerk
was it not proper to report the town as already captured
by C Company?
"In this
locality there were numerous excavations and old
limestone quarries which afforded considerable shelter,
although likely gas pockets. These positions were
consolidated by additional digging, and the Regiment
entered upon another period of semistabilized warfare,
such as had been experienced on the Vesle, while our
artillery crowding up from the rear grad-ually increased
the din. Shelling, during the days and nights of the
advance, and particularly after the Regiment had dug
itself in, was at times of the most furious density. The
German batteries would seem to let loose in all their
power and shells would fall as fast as hundreds of guns,
heavily concentrated, could drive them." The
doughboy, while he knows that without friendly artillery
his task would be considerably more difficult, can never
overcome the feeling that he bears the brunt of the
artillery duels. It is a case, he argues ., of the
opposing artillery units saying, " I'll blow your
infantry to bits while you try to bust mine."
The first real attack participated in by the Three
Hundred and Fifth was disastrous. Company A had been
ordered to advance on the morning of the 7th against
machine gun outposts which lined the Aisne Canal, in
conjunction with a parallel advance by elements of the
306th upon the immediate left. At five A. M. everything
was in readiness for a six o'clock jump-off - but liaison
failed. A countermanding order which subsequently came to
the other regiment did not reach Lieutenant Dwyer,
commanding Company A, in time. One of his platoons
proceeded successfully over a stretch of exposed terrain
before the rest of the company took up the advance.
Immediately, the Germans who had perfect observation of
the movement opened up from the left, the front and the
right with everything they had-machine guns, trench
mortars and " ' whizz-bangs." The company
commander was killed, the only other company officer
wounded, and many more grievous casualties sustained.
Without officers, the non-coms kept the company well in
hand and held their gains until relief could be brought
up at nightfall.
C Company went into
that position. "Our first night was' ' you might
say, tranquil,," one of its members writes. "We
didn't know who was on the right nor who was on our left,
nor just how many there were on our front. German flares
appeared on three sides of us. But, aside from that, the
constant shelling and the machine gun jabbering, we had
not a thing to worry, about."
In Villers en
Prayeres, the enemy persisted in shelling close to the
company P. C., making it so uncomfortable that a change
of headquarters was necessary. The street was termed
"Shell Shock Alley" and it lived up to its
reputation. Shelled out of that second place, they sought
a third, finally doing a successful business in an old
French sheet-iron dugout. During the day the men found
not much to do, excepting to draw rations and avoid 88's,
which came in more liberal doses than the rations. Back
in the support positions of the Second Battalion near
Pincon Farm, the shelling was just as heavy and just as
constant. " Yet," said Captain Briggs, " I
maintain that this helmet is no earthly good,
whatsoever." That apparently ended the argument, for
the Captain disappeared around an elbow of trench. At
that instant, a shell burst on the parapet; in a moment,
he staggered again into view with a dent in the top of
his tin hat as big as your fist. "Beg pardon,"
he gasped; "you're right; I'm wrong."
Naturally, the
runners who almost without exception proved themselves a
game and loyal crew found their work in this situation
particularly dangerous and difficult. The poor little
devils not only had to carry messages back and forth,
morning and night, always in readiness, but took their
turn at carrying rations, standing gas guard through the
night, and the like. When all is said and done, the
runners perform one of the most difficult and important
jobs the army in the field has to offer. Our hats are off
to them.
Those who drove the
ration carts up through Vauxcer6 at night under fire in
an effort to bring hot food to the weary, mud-stained men
in the trenches deserve their meed of praise as well.
Despite their good work, supplies were often low. Beyond
the support line at Pincon Farm everything had to be
carried, in order to sustain those units feeling forward
as far as the Aisne. A doughboy from D Company has a
story to tell which he calls Fifty-fifty in the Front
Lines: "During the advance, all we had in the line
of eats was our iron rations, consisting of one can of
beef and about half a pound of hardtack; our kitchens of
course couldn't go right along with us. Yet, I was lucky
enough to have grabbed off an extra can of beef. After I
had shared this with two other men, I was stripped clean,
as far as food was concerned. So were most of the others.
But food has nothing to do with orders, so we were soon
on our way forward again, without food. Later in the day
I managed to get a few hardtack and half a canteen of
water off a dead man. That night I received orders to
report to Battalion Headquarters, to which I was
sometimes attached as scout, and next morning I was
handed a nice job-looking for one of the companies which
hadn't been heard from for some time. Gosh, but I was
hungry, yet I couldn't stop. After searching the ground
ahead for about six hours, seeing no one but a German
airman who kept me ducking, I landed up on the left of
our sector, finding a captain of the 306th about to have
something to eat in his cramped dugout. When I arrived on
the scene, there were about three sardines and four
hardtack. He must have noticed how I looked sideways at
the ban-quet table, for he asked if I was hungry. I told
him when I had eaten last, and be said, 'Well, I'll go
you fifty-fifty,' and handed me a cracker with a fish on
it. I got what dope he could give me, and we went up top
to have a look around. And then to my surprise he added,
You'd better go down and tackle another shark and a
cracker before you go.' I had often read how officers got
pretty familiar with the men in the trenches. He seemed
on the verge of doing it so I risked slapping him on the
back-and obeyed orders."
It was not long before the kitchens were herded under a
shed at Vauxcere where cooks and " K. P.'s "
ground out doughnuts, coffee and other good things,
despite the shellfire. Even then, one never knew just
when the next meal could be trundled up by a carrying
party. "Sir," announced an orderly, poking his
head around a traverse in the trench, "dinner is
served ... .. What's on the menu today? " inquired
the captain with an air. "Well, we have some very
fine quail." Not quite, but almost! Spitted and
neatly broiled over a can of solidified alcohol was a
scrawny old nondescript bird which a runner had picked up
on the trail, killed by a shell fragment.
The Third Battalion
had taken over the front lines. Friday, the 13th, had
been successfully tucked away without disaster, when
'long about the night of the 14th, came a welcome crowd
of Italians trying to stuff both donkeys and drivers into
the dugouts. They put six or seven men into a hole where
two of us had felt crowded before, and left cabbage
leaves, cheese rinds, and all sorts of garbage lying
around.
"Relieved by
the Roman Army, commanded by one of Old General
Garibaldi's descendants," writes a doughboy.
"They seemed to have precious little ammunition but
lots of chow, which made them welcome. A very compact
little army-men, mules, wagons, guns, everything all
bunched up in the middle of the road as we had been
taught not to do it. If Jerry had ever gotten a line on
them and planted a few shells in their midst, Marc Antony
would have had to write up another burial oration."
It was a ten-hour
affair-that hike to the rear through Vauxcer6, Bazoches,
St. Thibaut, Chery Chartreuve, Nesle and Sergy to
Dravigny. But awaiting the boys were the old packs and
real food; grape jam, cookies and oodles of cigarettes
from the Auxiliary; again a stream to bathe in, good
cover for the dog tents and a canteen in which to spend
our pay. Lots of mail, too. The few officers and men who
had to remain twelve hours to show the Italian relief the
ins and outs of the old positions went bowling to the
rear next day in a French motor, lorry, feeling as happy
as if on the road from Camp Upton to New York. One could
bask in the sun, finally out of shell fire, watching the
old observation balloons lazily riding up in the north,
though potted now and then by the impertinent German
aeroplanes. "Had a young meal of beefsteak,
potatoes, onions, coffee, bread, rice, crullers, jam and
four cartons of cigarettes," boasted one of the
grimi-est, lustiest boys ever seen. I et till I near
bust."
" Save your
money for the big town," was the word. The rumor
spread that we were going into a rest area. The officers
spread it. They announced it to cheering throngs. They
got it straight from higher up.
It was even said we were going to parade triumphantly in
Paris. Great was our happiness-for we thought we deserved
a rest, having been under a continual nervous strain and
worse since the latter part of June.
A day of inspection
followed one night of undisturbed rest. At 4.35 a
luscious meal was brewing merrily in the bursting
kitchens, mess kits itching for the welcome thud of chow
upon their brilliant inner surfaces. But, "The
battalions will be ready to march with full equipment at
4.30," read the order which dumped both fires and
food upon the unappreciative ground while mystified men
rolled up their baggage in preparation for the gruelling
dash to Cohan and Coulonges. But that was all right. Who
wouldn't willingly sacrifice a dinner for the ride on
lorries to " the big town? "
" We'll sing
till the lorries arrive," said a bunch of men
sitting by the roadside at half-past eight. They did -
but throats were raw, and the songs they sang dated back
to the days of " Bedelia " long ere one
o'clock, at which hour the stream of dusty camions drew
up. Those French drivers had not slept under a roof for
eight days, they said, having transported troops from one
part of France to another without rest. Their driving
showed it. Without illumination of any kind, the trucks
tore through the night. At dawn their speed in the
direction of Verdun increased to the point of
recklessness. Drivers dozed at the wheel and trucks
collided, crushing the careless feet which hung over a
tailboard; they ran into the ditch; they interviewed
unyielding trees; one truck overturned, sending a couple
of men with broken ribs to the hospital. Minor halts
while in the districts of Champagne permitted hungry,
thirsty men to leap from the camions for the pilfering of
dusty grapes from vineyards bordering the road; but there
ensued a race to make up for lost time. Through Epernay
and Chalons the Americans were roundly cheered by old
women and children who seemed to care not at all if
someone vaulted the hedge to steal an apple, hitching on
as best he might when a following truck swept by
To live in dog
tents in a slippery, hilly pine grove near Viel
Dampierre, which was probably never plotted on any living
map, certainly did not resemble life in "the big
town ... .. Red Mike" was scarcely proper food for a
man oil vacation. To be ordered out for drill and at the
same time warned to keep undercover suggested no
proximity to a Rest Camp. "Somebody is dizzy,"
was the general verdict. Yet, there was still hope.
Sudden ordrs arrived the night of the 19th not to turn
in, but to strike tents at once. Then an order to pitch
tents! With the tents going up and the rain coming down,
another order to roll them tip again! At eleven o'clock
the Regiment marched north.
"Where are we
going now?" Corporals asked their sergeants, and
sergeants asked their lieutenants. They, not knowing,
asked the privates who get things by wireless. "
Why, to the big town; St. Menehould is just north of
here! " You should have seen the men hike! It was a
cinch to keel) them from straggling-everyone in fine
humor, believing that finally he was on the way to the
rail head. In fine humor until the column struggled
through St. Menehould without stopping.
This quite outdid
anything previously suffered-even during the Battle of
Watten. At 8.30 next morning, the Regiment hove into
Neufour in two factions: the superhuman half of the
Regiment, and the human half in charge of the provost
guards. With blistered feet and aching bodies, a few
found shelter; the others dropped from sheer exhaustion
where halted in the street, despite the frantic protests
of the French quartered there who feared that enemy
planes would discover the advent of American troops in a
sector new to them. War gardens were plundered, for
nothing edible arrived until the middle of the afternoon.
When Colonel Smedberg remarked at Brigade Headquarters
that the troops were much too crowded to enjoy this rest
area the answer was, "We go into the line tomorrow.
"
That night we
relieved the French, taking over all but the forward
outposts, with heavy hearts.