A STORY
of
THE 305th MACHINE GUN BATTALION
77th DIVISION
A.E.F.
By
HENRY W. SMITH
Chapter 11
The Vesle River
CHAPTER X1
THE VESLE RIVER
MEANWHILE the other companies of the Battalion were
relieving various positions in the line. Each unit had
its own problems to contend with and accomplishing the
relief was a precarious task in that sector. Lieut. Floyd
Smith reports in his diary that A Company made its way
through gas to the line and brought up in front of the
ruins of the village of St. Thibaut with the Boche across
the river. The line in this sector swung forward toward
the enemy in an irregular pocket shape and due to the
winding of the river, some units had to cross it at
certain points to make the relief. Lieut. Smith in the
brief memorandum he was able to make in his diary at the
time, states that guns in his command were in a sunken
road at St. Thibaut, describing it as an awful place with
dead men and horses all around. The position was
intensely shelled and it was impossible to move around in
the daylight. The men of A Company, no doubt, recall the
place very vividly and we dare say those who were
fortunate enough to get out of it unscathed have often
wondered how it was possible.
The name, St.
Thibaut, is familiar to all of us and mention of it
brings to mind a thousand and one pictures and
sensations. We had made all possible haste to effect the
relief during the darkness, but in spite of it all, the
gray light of dawn was touching the hilltops at about the
time we were all set and we looked forward to our first
day on a real front with some of the best of the German
Army opposing us. As the curtain of night was slowly
lifted and the warm, bright sunlight spread across the
land it was very much as though a weird tableau was being
presented upon some huge stage. Those of us who were on
the embankment of that railroad cut will have no
difficulty recalling the wave-like appearance of the
rails, the ends of which were bent upward, evidently by
charges of dynamite. As far as the eye could see in each
direction the rails had been destroyed and the enemy had
made a thorough job of rendering that section of track
utterly useless. There was a number of dead German
soldiers lying between the rails while at the top of the
opposite embankment one fellow was propped up in a
sitting position against a tree and he was watched with a
certain morbid curiosity as day after day he gave way and
slumped nearer the earth. A short distance down the
tracks there lay a number of soldiers covered with
blankets but their uniforms were olive-drab, the same as
ours.
Daylight meant
activity and the command, "Stand to", was
quickly flashed along the line. How it all comes back to
mind when you raised your head just high enough for your
eyes to clear the parapet of the railroad cut which
formed a huge trench and took a long look out into no
man's land, expecting at any moment to have a bullet skip
off your helmet. Remember the feeling of having every eye
in the German Army watching you - just you?
Well, that first
morning wasn't so bad, things in general being rather
quiet, but we were all more or less a little jumpy. The
boys of the 305th Infantry were stretched along in line
with us. When we saw them getting across the river the
night before, there seemed to be no telling where they
would be likely to end up but there they were right with
us. Old reliables, somehow always in the right place at
the right time. We had a fine opportunity here on the
Vesle to watch those fellows work and who can forget the
sight of them going out into no man's land on daylight
patrols.
In crouching
positions, feeling their way forward through the long
grass and weeds, the enemy watching like hawks, allowed
them to come just so far when they would open with a
withering burst of machine-gun fire. When the firing
ceased it was then that a man's heart would sink as he
noted the scant few who had not been hit, get back to
their feet to carry on with their almost hopeless task of
feeling out the enemy and bringing back valuable
information.
As the sun rose
higher the heavy mustard gas lying in the pools of water
in the ditches at the side of the tracks was vaporized,
causing a shout of "Gas" and masks had to be
worn for quite a few minutes. The afternoon's heat was
sweltering. To add to our discomfort the place was alive
with flies that sailed from the dead men onto our food
and back again and when the Karo syrup cans were opened,
around swarmed the yellow jackets. Then too we always had
with us that nauseating odor of carrion men.
We were getting
through the first day fairly well but, of course, we had
to go through the twilight hours which meant "stand
to" again, as anything was likely to happen during
the dusk and the night time held its own terrors. The
day, however, was not to be uneventful, as we of C
Company received a blow that rocked every man of the
Company. I refer to the death of Lieutenant Duddy. As will be recalled,
we mentioned earlier in our tale that an enemy sniping machine-gun operated throughout the
night on our left flank, firing directly down the tracks.
The German gunners had just about started their
activities for the night when the lieutenant was cut down
in the twinkling of an eye, Lieut. Gorham catching him as
he fell. It was almost unbelievable that Duddy was gone.
At the first
opportunity his body was carried some distance back and
Chaplain Lawson, of our own Battalion, and Father
Halligan, Chaplain of the 308th Infantry Regiment, laid
him away as best they could under very trying conditions.
At about this time Williamson, of C Company, was also
killed as he lay in a funk hole and the war had started
to take its toll of our Battalion.
Now it is generally
admitted, at least, by infantrymen and machine gunners,
that there was only one of two places to be in - either
in the front line or out of the lines completely. The
long, tedious grind of coming up through the territory
behind the lines that was constantly being shelled was
particularly annoying to troops bound for the front line
and once through, there was no desire to go over the
roads until relieved. This was particularly true in the
Vesle sector and anyone who had to cross the river on a
couple of wet planks did not care to repeat the operation
very often, but supplies had to be brought up and so with
the darkness came calls for details. One detail of
perhaps twenty men was called from positions in the
railroad cut and retracing their steps through the dank,
gas-filled woods and across the river, they arrived again
in Ville-Savoye, but instead of the quiet street of the night before,
Jerry was raking it at intervals with
machine-gun fire and dropping in artillery shells to
com-plete the work of pulverizing the town. Getting into
Ville-Savoye was a combination of hop, skip and jump and
tag, with Jerry doing the chasing. When a shell came
whistling over, it was a case of making a wild dive into
any kind of a depression available and what a thrill one
fellow received when he landed in a hole on top of a
couple of dead Germans. Out he came faster than he went
in, if such a thing were possible.
The detail arrived
at last in what had been the courtyard of the house, in
the cellar of which Captain Luce had established his P.
C. The wreckage of the house afforded fairly good
protection, but later on, because of intense shelling,
the place had to be abandoned. The Captain was deeply
affected by the loss of Lieut. Duddy and to avoid further
possible losses ordered the entire detail down into the
dug-out. We did not need a second invitation, as several
shells broke uncomfortably close. The supposition was
that we were on a ration detail and we stood around
expectantly waiting to hear the good word that the food
would be brought in shortly. And then the captain spoke.
Said he, "Men, there is an ammunition dump at Mont
St. Martin and we may be needing plenty, so you fellows
will have to bring it up."
AMMUNITION! And we
were thinking of food. Mont St. Martin was a mile to the
rear and away we went over that winding road. What a fine
target if the eyes of the enemy could have penetrated
the darkness. From time to time they sent up star shells
and the old familiar "Hold it" rang out. Well,
we got back to Mont St. Martin, grabbed the boxes of
ammunition and returned to Ville-Savoye without mishap,
but it was a perspiring crew that sat down to take a
breath before starting back to the line. But wait, it was
not to be that easy. The captain informed us that word
had just been received that the rations had just been
brought up as far as Mont St. Martin and as it was too
late to call another detail, we would have to make
another trip. So back we trudged. Returning again to
Ville-Savoye with the sharp edges of boxes of canned goods cutting into
shoulders, the Germans decided to send over a few shells. One, with that
distinctive whine we all knew so well as a warning of a close hit,
seemed to be rushing right at us and in less time than it takes to tell
it, there was a shout of "Down!" and down we went, hit-ting the roadway
just about the same time that the shell exploded. A quick check-up
showed that no one had been hit, but the shell had landed not more than
twenty feet ahead of us. The Germans evidently elevated
their guns as further shots went a good way beyond us and
we again arrived in Ville-Savoye with no damage done.
These trips had
consumed most of the night, so that by the time the front
line was again reached, daybreak was almost upon us and
we wasted no time getting down from the reverse
embankment and out of sight of the enemy. It had been a
good night's work with no compensation for overtime.
Ville-Savoye was an excellent target for the enemy and we understand
that Captain Luce was forced to change his Post of Command three times. During the time he was
occupying the first dug-out the men with the captain at
the time tell of hearing the melody, "Somewhere a
Voice Is Calling", played on a piano while the town
was being shelled. Each one was afraid to speak of
hearing it, believing his mentality would be questioned.
(Rohrich has mentioned the incident, also Jourdain and
Magrath.)
The source of the music was investigated and a doughboy
was found playing an old piano he had run across in the
debris of what had been a house.
Another exceedingly
warm day was dawning and we looked forward to more
torture from the flies and yellow jackets as well as
continued harassing from the enemy. Our first tour of
duty in the front line of the Vesle sector showed us that
France could be a real sunny place, but we were not in a
position to enjoy it. Again came the order to "Stand
to". The command was passed along for the infantry
to fire five rounds slowly and the machine-gunners had to
sit there withholding their fire and watching the
infantrymen blaze away. Surprise effect was our
watchword. It so happened, however, that when we had an
opportunity to let go we do not know who was
surprised-the enemy or ourselves. "Watch your
front!" was ordered and as each man traversed a
section of no man's land with his eyes it would seem as
though there was a German soldier peering out from behind
every bush. The gray light of dawn or dusk, no doubt,
played tricks on our eyes and occasionally there would be
a crack of a rifle from some of our own men, to be taken
up here and there along the line by some of the more
jumpy. We recall one evening when the whole line opened
up, machine-gunners included. It was great while it
lasted, but when the officers investigated to find out
what started it, the best they could get was that someone
had seen a light in the woods over in the enemy lines. A
lot of it was perhaps due to a certain amount of nervous
tension, but it showed that the boys were right on their
toes all the time. There was plenty to keep on the alert
about in that Hell Hole of the Vesle and we used to say
Jerry threw over everything he had, including his old
shoe. The place was bombarded regularly with all sizes
and varieties of artillery shells, with gas shells mixed
in and the long, drawn whine of projectiles high in the
air indicated that the boys in the back areas, where our
own artillery guns were located, were also getting a
straffing, as it was known. One never could be sure from
what angle would come that spiteful cracking from a
well-concealed machine gun, the bullets kicking up the
earth along the parapet and under cover of darkness a
minnenwerfer, or, as it was called, a
"Whiz-Bang", went into action seemingly not
more than a couple of hundred feet out in front. The men
who were up along that railroad cut will never forget
that gun as it came into action against us each night
with the ground-shaking crash of the shell that followed
by seconds that terrifying whiz, giving rise to the name
"Whiz-Bang". All along the line, in fact, it
was the same story, as Lieut. Floyd Smith tersely put it
in his diary, "The old iron is coming over. A number
of infantry hurt. Hagar and Newbrand wounded." Under
date of August 15th his entry reads: "Got mussed up
by a shell at Dead Man's Curve. Bell killed. Roach
wounded. Worst night I have ever spent." On the
sixteenth he reports being sent to a field hospital where
he found Chaplain Lawson on the next stretcher with a
hole through his foot. This ended things for a while for
Lieut. Smith and the Chaplain, and apparently things were
fast and furious in their neck of the woods. It was
misery in the daytime and the hours of darkness were
filled with suspense as the enemy machine guns continued
to crack spasmodically with an occasional burst of
artillery fire thrown in for good measure, but there
would always seem to come that time when it was just
"Silence and the night and the smell of the
dead."
The artillery
regiments of the Division were getting in some fine work
during all this time and at "Stand to" when the
infantry called for a short barrage it was very
satisfying and steadying to hear the thump of our guns
immediately followed by the whistle and crash of the
shells as they broke in regular order forward of the
line. On one occasion, however, one battery fired short
into our line getting in three or four shells before it
could be stopped. Several packs lying about were ripped
apart and the fact that no one was hurt can only be
described as a miracle. Patrols were constantly being
sent out to feel out the enemy and one afternoon orders
were sent along the line to prepare combat packs and to
stand by to go over the top at five o'clock. Just how the
machine gunners were going to fare in keeping up with the
infantry was a thought that flashed through our minds but
the orders were to get ready to go over and we were
going. There were many silent prayers offered that
afternoon. The situation, however, did not exactly click
in the mind of one of the sergeants and, taking the
initiative, he summoned a runner and instructed him to
report to Captain Luce to see if going over with the
infantry met with the Captain's approval. It did not and
the Captain came forward to the front line and told us so
in no uncertain terms. The action was finally called off
for everybody but we were all on the anxious seat for a
while.
It seemed ages since we had seen anything of a hot meal
and so far as a bath was concerned we had commenced to
think that that was something we read about in books. We
had heard lots of stories from the Tommies as to how they
shaved even in the front line trenches but there on the
Vesle River there was no time to be thinking about
cutting whiskers and we were kept busy guarding against
close shaves from Jerry. Most of us had lost track of the
day of the week and when one asked for the time from a
buddy lucky enough to still have a watch, the usual
response was "What do you care, you're not going any
place!"
Another thing that
we had not heard for some time was a good rumor but in
due course one filtered along the line and it was a
dandy. From outfit to outfit floated the report that we
were to be relieved shortly, and it turned out to be
true. The time of the relief was all set for Wednesday
night and while we have no way of knowing what
information the enemy may have had regarding the relief,
they certainly acted as though they had full knowledge as
to what was about to take place. Starting early in the
evening they stormed our lines for hours. A parachute
light was dropped over Ville-Savoye, brilliantly
illuminating the remains of the village and while the
light slowly descended the village underwent another
terrific artillery bombardment. The men in the back areas
had our heartfelt sympathy. Any attempt to effect a
relief was abandoned and we stood fast for another day.
On Thursday night we withdrew from the front a squad at a
time. Men from each company were stationed at various
Points along the dark roads to check the squads as they
came out and to direct the men back to the picket lines.
The shelling was not as severe as it had been the
previous night but the enemy pounded away at the roads
with gas for miles to the rear, necessitating our wearing
masks for a considerable distance especially where the
roads dipped into hollows. After travelling many
kilometers and not running across the kitchen or picket
line, the first platoon of C Company decided to go no
further until daylight and upon being put on their own by
the sergeant, most of the men went into a field and were
soon sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. It seemed no
time at all before daylight was upon us and, although we
were ragged and hungry, lying there on the broad of our
backs, it was good to be alive; to be able to breathe the
clear air once again and to be away from that incessant
cannonading.