A STORY
of
THE 305th MACHINE GUN BATTALION
77th DIVISION
A.E.F.
By
HENRY W. SMITH
Chapter 18
The Beginning of the End
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
AN ALL-NIGHT hike back through the Argonne and, as Lieut.
Smith says, "Thursday, October 31st: Back to the old
crossroads. Take a position outside St. Juvin and shoot
steadily for five hours. Lose eight men. Friday, Nov.
1st: In St. Juvin again. Shoot some more and the Boche
does not reply."
Leaving our
comfortable quarters at Camp de Croix Gentin to march the
entire length of the Argonne under cover of darkness with
a realization of what was at the end of the trail would
certainly not put a man in the lightest of moods and it
was especially saddening to those men who were prepared
to go on leave as they pictured their new uniforms being
dragged through the mud of the battlefields. We resigned
ourselves to the task with the thought in mind that the
sooner we started at it again the sooner it would be
over. We trudged along one of the few roads in the
forest, thankful that we did not have to make our way up
and down those heartbreaking ravines. A sunken road
running down toward St. Juvin was strewn with many
Jerries, machine guns and equipment, mute evidence of the
fierce struggle that took place there. It was here, at
St. Juvin, that Lieutenant Andre, of our Battalion,
fought gallantly with his men, winning a citation and the
Distinguished Cross. We did not relieve any troops as
divisions holding the lines drew to the right and left,
making room for us to take over our sector. As daylight
came upon us and we picked out familiar landmarks, it
could be seen that we were back where we were when
relieved. During the early hours of the morning of
November first the artillery regiments put over a barrage
and at the zero hour we once again started forward,
little knowing that we were actually starting down the
home-stretch that would bring us to the finish of the
war.
Under Lieutenant
Parker the Third Platoon of C Company veered over to the
right of St. Juvin, skirting the positions of the D and A
Companies' guns. Those Companies were firing a barrage on
Champignuelle, a town across the valley, and they were
doing a mighty fine job. Ask any D or A Company man, even
now, years later, if he recalls the barrage and a
satisfied smile will spread across his face. We of C
Company, under Parker, were working our way along the
side of a hill when the Lieutenant stopped us and then
lined up the Platoon in squad columns. He then started us
down the valley in the direction of Champignuelle. We had
not gone very far when Captain Dollarhide came striding
up the valley. "What are you doing,
Lieutenant?" he inquired. "We are preparing to
take that town," replied Parker. "Aw, hell,
call it off, Lieutenant," said Dollarhide, "I
have been in that place all morning and there is no one
there." Was Parker's face red!
Swinging forward
again, our way lay along the long slope of a hill that
was being raked by enemy machine gun fire which was
holding up the advance. It was along this slope that
Frank Doyle ran afoul of mustard gas in a shell hole
which later put him out of action. As the machine gun
fire swept the hillside we were forced to throw ourselves
to the ground and flatten out as much as possible until
the firing let up. While in this prone position,
Greenyear said he had been hit but he looked alright
until he shoved his foot out sidewise along the ground
and the blood, streaming from his foot, had already
stained the outside of his shoe a dark muddy crimson.
When the Germans withheld their fire for an instant,
according to a prearranged plan, a dash was made for a
designated shell hole some few feet further up the hill.
From where we had been lying it could not be seen that
the shell hole was already occupied and there were a
couple of surprised soldiers as we slid head first into
that hole on top of them. Cutting away Greenyear's puttee
and shoe, it was found that a bullet had gone through his
instep and he was hastily bandaged with first-aid packs.
Fortunately he had a clean pair of socks with him, one of
which was drawn on over the bandage. Looking cautiously
over the edge of the hole, a doughboy with a stretcher
over his shoulder was discovered some distance down the
hill. He came up to the hole and said his partner had run
out on him when the firing started and he could handle
only one end of the stretcher. Frazee, from the One-pound
Platoon of the 305th Infantry Regiment, who was also in
the hole, volunteered to take an end of the stretcher if
we would let his outfit know where he had left the
ammunition he was bringing up. Some day we may be able to
do that. Greenyear was placed in the stretcher and, as he
was lifted, he raised himself on an elbow and, waving to
us he said, "Well, so long fellows, the best of luck
to you."
"So long,
Archie," we replied. "You lucky son of a so and
so. You will never come back to this mess again."
And he never did.
Off to our left a
German ammunition dump at the edge of Champigneulle had
been fired and was making quite a bombardment.
Fred Harris, of B
Company, recalls that his gun crew had taken up position
sometime during the night of October thirty-first and
that Lieut. Jones, in command of the gun, gave orders to
go over the top at five o'clock on the morning of
November first. The names of all the men in the squad do
not come to mind but those handling the gun were
Fitzpatrick, Siff, Henry J. Jones and, of course, Harris.
Everyone was tense as the zero hour was awaited and, when
at last the signal to go over was given, the gun crew
started forward in the face of terrific shell fire. There
came that swish and explosion, comparable to the
death-dealing lightning bolt and the war ended for Henry
J. Jones. It was broad daylight and in open country but
the crew pushed steadily forward although it was slow
progress as the men were forced to crawl like worms in
the grass as German machine gun fire swept the ground. As
the men squirmed into a shell hole Siff was hit. He was
dragged in and, as he was found to be bleeding profusely,
Lieut. Jones asked Fitzpatrick to take him back to a
first- aid dressing station. Fitzpatrick carried him back
across the open fields. The command was, again, forward
and those of the gun crew left crawled laboriously out of
the shell hole. Perhaps fifty feet directly ahead three
German soldiers struggled out of their machine gun nest.
A rifle spoke instantly from a group on the right; one
German pitched forward lifeless. The others were taken
prisoner.
Continuing forward from shell hole to shell hole along
the side of the hill, C Company men finally dropped into
a ravine and were thankful for the protection it
afforded. It was not long before there was a shout and up
the ravine from the left came a dozen Jerries with their
hands raised above their heads. Suspecting a trick there
was a general shout to get guns mounted and to be on the
alert but it was just a case of these war-weary fellows
surrendering and calling "quits". Some of our
fellows, who could speak German, asked them why they were
clinging to the black bread it could be seen several were
holding under their arms. They replied that their
officers had told them all kinds of stories about what
would happen to them if taken prisoner and that it
behooved them to hang on to any food they had. Our men
told them to throw it away as they would probably get
better food than we were able to get in the line. The
prisoners were started for the rear with the war over so
far as they were concerned and we again started forward.
With our heavy equipment on our shoulders we laboriously
climbed the hill out of the ravine. An officer of the
306th Infantry, after watching us for a few minutes as we
struggled up the hill, turned to his men and told them
that they ought to be ashamed of themselves for kicking
about the load they had to carry. He told them to take a
look at the machine gunners who were carrying a real
load, what with our heavy guns and equipment, and we were
not complaining. What heroes we were! It just so happened
that we needed all our energy to get up the hill and did
not have wind enough to do anything else. We would
suggest that the infantry officer stay around the machine
gunners for a while for some real, plain and fancy
kicking.
The enemy was
unable to withstand the relentless pressure of the
Division, falling back so rapidly, offering practically
no resistance that the advance became quite a foot race.
Far off, across the valley, so far away that the
explosions could not be heard, there could be seen, along
the slopes of the distant hills, the exploding shells of
a barrage being poured into the German lines. Just after
emerging from a patch of woods and crossing an open
field, an enemy airplane flew low over us dropping hand
grenades. Instinctively we scattered in all directions
but it raised the ire of Captain Dollarhide who said he
would shoot the man who was the first to break the next
formation. He also threatened the first one who asked to
be sent back to the picket line. It so happened that the
Captain was the first one to go back, suffering from the
strain and exposure. Crossing bridges erected under the
most trying conditions by our reliable 302nd Engineer
Regiment, we pushed on through Verpel and then to
Thenorgues, names we do not have to consult histories to
recall. Wounded German soldiers who could not keep up
with the retreat were found waiting for us in one of
those villages. Debris was scattered all along the route
and, at one point, a German long-range field piece had
been blown off the road and, together with the entire
team of eight horses, lay half submerged in a large
puddle at the side of the road.
It is not recalled
just when we loaded our equipment on the machine gun
carts but it might be mentioned that the gun teams had
been almost exhausted trying to keep up under the weight.
Runners offered to relieve the gunners but Capt.
Dollarhide would not permit it, saying he wanted his
runners fresh when the advance stopped. The attack
continued, the various battalions of the infantry
leap-frogging each other to keep it going and we found
ourselves moving through Buzancy where the houses were
burning on each side of the road when we passed through.
Continuing along,
the heavy hum of many airplanes was heard and, to our
amazement, there appeared what could only be described as
a cloud of bombing planes. A quick count disclosed over
four hundred in the squadron and, at last, the supremacy
of the air appeared to have been gained by the Allies. As
the bombing squadron flew into the haze ahead it could be
seen to be dividing into smaller units and spreading out.
Very faintly, in the distance, the sound of some of the
bombing could be heard and it must have filled the
Germans with consternation when that armada swept across
the skies. In order to check the advance, bridges had
been demolished which had to be hastily replaced by the
engineers and, at one point, a mine on each side of the
road had blown away most of it leaving a piece at the
crown just wide enough for the passage of machine gun
carts. The limbers had to swing off into the marshland of
the valley.
Just short of St.
Pierremont we were held up temporarily by the enemy so,
as it could not be foretold how much of a stand would be
made, it was necessary to dig in. A Company took up
positions in a railroad cut and were shelled all night.
On Monday, November fourth, Lieutenant Smith, making a
notation in his diary under shell fire, reports the loss
of nine horses and three men. It was at about this time
that Magrath and Jourdain of C Company were wounded.
Rubin, one of C Company's mule skinners, came along the
line bemoaning the fate of his mule. It seems that the
Boche started to concentrate on the woods where he had
tethered the mule and fearing that things were getting
too hot, the mule was shifted, unfortunately, right into
the path of a shell, which cut the animal in two.
During this advance
machine gunners did not have any chance to do any firing
and it was exasperating to be a target for the enemy
without an opportunity to reciprocate. Earlier in the
advance, around St. Juvin, A Company had been firing
steadily and prisoners going back said the machine gun
fire had been fearful.
The hold-up at St.
Pierremont kept us there overnight. It was not the plan
of the enemy to offer stiff resistance here, however, but
to get back across the Meuse River and we looked forward
to a siege similar to our Vesle River experience. On the
night of November second C Company lay along a road with
guns mounted on the forward embankment. Sidney Rust, who
as we have mentioned, was always salvaging and looking
for the best protection, found a semicircular piece of
elephant iron and, with much effort, succeeded in turning
it on its ends so that he could sleep beneath it. It was
the last salvaging job that Rust did, for out in front of
that shelter, on the morning of November third, a shell
made a direct hit. We laid Rust away in the hole made by
the shell that killed him; the last man of C Company to
make the supreme sacrifice. Death in those days caused us
only a moment's pause. It only served to fire us with a
greater determination to square the score with the enemy.
Once again we
pressed northward toward the Meuse River and it was a
satisfying sight to see hundreds of German prisoners
being marched to the rear. Rumor had it that not far
ahead lay a village with white flags flying from the
chimney tops indicating the presence of civilians and,
while at first we were inclined to disbelieve the story,
it was not long before the actual sight met our eyes and
we entered La Besace, the first village in which we found
civilians. Any large piece of white rag that could be
found was floating above the house tops to mark the
location of the village so that it would not be shelled.
We learned that the Germans, upon leaving, gave their
word that they would not bombard the village but they
shelled pretty close to it and it was on the road at the
edge of the village that Lieutenant Agler was killed. As
the shells crashed around the outer rim of the village
the villagers retreated into the houses almost in a
panic. The small population consisted of women, old men
and very small children and it is quite possible that the
fathers of some of those children may have been German.
Life had been anything but pleasant during the years the
Boche had occupied the village and it could be detected
that these poor French people were uncertain whether or
not to be afraid of us. It developed that the Germans,
upon departing, had impressed it upon the villagers that
if life had been hard under German rule, they would see
just how bad it could be when the Americans came. It was
not long, however, before the people realized what they
had to fear from this "wicked American army"
composed of men in whose minds there was always thoughts
of mothers, wives, sweethearts and sisters at home in
God's country.
We might mention
that it was raining. It seemed to be raining always and
the few streets of La Besace were rivers of mud. We stood
in the doorways as elements of infantry regiments sloshed
through, hurrying forward to contact the enemy. Several
of us had crowded into a small shack attached to one of
the houses in which several women were living. One of
them entered the shack to saw up some wood with a big saw
only a man would be expected to handle. Sergeant Herman
Eckert, chilled to the bone, took the saw from the woman
and, in no time, had enough wood cut to last some time;
in addition, he got his blood in circulation. Naturally
the women were filled with consternation. They had been
accustomed to doing such work for German officers and
they were amazed and mystified to see a soldier working
for them. It was just about unbelievable to those people
who had been so in the habit of doing an officer's
bidding and living in squalor and misery.
That night A and C
Companies, in command of Lieutenants Floyd Smith and
Simons placed the guns of the Companies, about
twenty-four in number, in position just outside of the
town to lay down a barrage on a red rocket signal from
the infantry. The order was to dig in but, as each
spade-full of earth was lifted out, the hole filled with
water and it was given up as a bad job. We lay in the
rain all night waiting for the signal that never came and
in the morning guns were dismounted. Back in the village
again the people knew they had nothing to fear from us
and when the ration cart came up with cans of steaming
hot coffee it was our turn to be surprised as the
villagers brought out cognac to be put into the coffee.
Throughout the years they had successfully kept it hidden
from the Germans. Any horses that had been killed meant
meat for these people and it was amusing to see them go
to work carving steaks,
It was while all
this activity was going on that suddenly the sound of
galloping hoofs was heard and, coming down the road,
could be seen a French officer followed by a bugler, both
in shining new equipment. Straight down the center of the
road they came at a hard gallop making a wonderful
picture. The peasants rushed to the middle of the road to
touch the uniforms of these French soldiers, the first
they had seen for so long. Apparently they wanted to
convince themselves that the soldiers were actually of
this world. In a trice all thoughts of the Americans were
out of the minds of the villagers and cries of Vive la
France! echoed down the road as the soldiers disappeared
from view. The women, standing in the doorways, murmured
Vive la France almost as a prayer as tears glistened in
their eyes.
The command again
was forward and we resumed our march over those last few
miles that took us to the Meuse River and the end of the
war. It has been mentioned that B Company moved on to the
Chamblage Farm, D Company pulled into Raucourt while A
and C Companies moved into Autrecourt, a good-sized town
near the river. Of course there were civilians in most of
these towns. A Company cooks had salvaged some cabbages
from a German garden along the way and, in an alley-way
of one of the houses on the main street, they were
boiling a fine cabbage soup. My, how good it smelled! To
those men who were fortunate to get some of it, it was
probably the finest soup they had ever tasted before or
since.
Two guns of C
Company were carried on down through the main street of
Autrecourt toward the river to a point a considerable
distance from the town where they were set up on each
side of the road to help take care of a possible
counter-attack by the enemy' Lieut. Williams, who was in
command, was not sure of the proper location for the guns
and returned to the town for more explicit data but he
was too sick to return to the positions that night. Those
in the gun squads remained at the forward positions all
night in command of Sgt. Bender. German shells dropped in
fairly close and shrapnel rained on the tin roof of the
shed in which we had taken refuge. The next morning the
gun crews were drawn back into the town. A Company moved
down to cover the engineers who were endeavoring to
construct a bridge across the river and a lively fight
ensued with the enemy across the river. It was at this
point that Lieutenant Floyd Smith attempted to get across
the river on the debris of the old bridge. The
Lieutenant, after falling into the river, gained the
opposite embankment alone and his subsequent gallant
action won for him the Distinguished Service Cross and
Citation which were presented to him years later. We are
happy to be able to include here Lieutenant Smith's story
of his heroic action in his own words.
Detroit, Mich.,
Dear Alfred: June 18th, 1934.
1 hope you will pardon the long delay in answering your
kind letter of last month. The truth of the matter is
that I had mislaid my 77th Division history and did not
want to write until 1 had some dates and facts before me.
I did not receive the pamphlet which you forwarded at an
earlier date. However, I am outlining the facts as I
remember them.
The events in
question happened at Villers Devant Mouzon on Nov. 7th,
1918. Our Division history give the following account of
some of the action:
"When the
Meuse River was reached . . . leading elements of the
Division pushed up to the river, preparatory to a
crossing. The river was found unfordable and it was
necessary to await the erection of bridges. It was here
that a detachment of the 302nd Engineers displayed great
bravery in their efforts to place a passageway over the
stream. Attempt after attempt was made in the face of
German machine gun fire to build a bridge at Villers.
Parties carrying material suffered most. No sooner would
they make their appearance than a Boche automatic or
sniper would open fire, causing them to take cover in the
woods bordering the river. Finally a covering party of
machine gunners, infantry and artillery was called to
protect the engineers while they proceeded with their
work. The operation was completed late in the afternoon
and two platoons from the 305th Infantry were pushed to
the other side of the river."
This is my
version of what happened and is refreshed somewhat by a
personal diary.
On the day in
question, November 7th, 1918, a Colonel of Infantry met
me in Remilly early in the morning and asked me to help
the 302nd Engineers with my platoon of machine guns. At
that time there were no infantry in the town proper. I
went down to the designated spot at Villers Devant Mouzon
with Sgt. Pearsall to make a reconnaissance. There we
found a company of Engineers behind the diked-up bank of
the Meuse. An officer and a couple of men had been shot
and they reported that every time they attempted to build
a bridge they were fired upon by the Germans. I then sent
for my machine guns and placed them to the right of the
Engineers and in some shrubbery there. At that time there
was little or no firing from the other side. The old bridge bad been
blown up and there was still a lot of debris in the river. The water
itself was below the Germans and hidden from their sight. After some
delay, Sgt. Smith, since deceased, and myself decided to go across the
river on the debris and try to locate the Germans. We started across
with a two-by-four between us to cover the gaps. About half way across
the wreckage started floating away and I found myself marooned alone in
the middle of the river. I could only go forward so I went to the
opposite bank. There I found a ditch alongside a road that lead from the
old bridge. There were no Germans in the ditch and it was protected, so
I crawled up a ways to look around. When I stuck my bead up I found
myself exactly opposite and about ten feet from a German machine gun
with two men there. These men surrendered as soon as they saw me. Then I
saw between 50 and 75 Germans dug into shallow fox holes behind a line
of willows that were parallel to the river. I then went back to the
river bank with the two prisoners and sat them up on the bank to keep
their own men from firing. Then I yelled to Sgt. Pearsall to fire on the
willows with his guns. When we started firing the Germans found that
they did not have enough protection and they
started running back for cover.
I remember that
there was some dandy shooting that day and that we got
most of the enemy. After we started firing, the Engineers
put planks across very quickly and finished the bridge. I
turned the prisoners over to Private Kerstein, who gave
them to the 302nd Engineers to take back. After the
bridge was built the infantry came up and dug in. Later
in the day and the rest of that night the Germans shelled
that spot with great abandon. That, Alfred, is my
recollection of what happened.
Sincerely,
FLOYD T. SMITH.
WAR DEPARTMENT
THE ADJUTANT GENERAL'S OFFICE
Washington
September 24, 1934. In reply Refer to AG 201 Smith, Floyd
T. (8-3-34) Ex Capt. Alfred Roelker 165 Broadway New
York, N. Y.
Dear Sir:
Reference is again made to your letter of June 25, 1934,
with which you enclosed a copy of a letter from Lt. Floyd
T. Smith, formerly a member of Company A, 305th Machine
Gun Battalion, 77th Division, and requested information
relative to the possibility of an award of the
Distinguished Service Cross.
I take pleasure in informing you that, by direction of
the President, under the provisions of the Act of
Congress approved July 9, 1918, and the Act of Congress
approved May 26, 1928, Lt. Smith was awarded the
Distinguished Service Cross by the War Department on
September 14, 19:34, in recognition of his extraordinary
heroism in action at Villers-de-Mouzon, France, November
7, 1918.
Very truly yours,
JAMES F. McKINLEY, Major General,
The Adjutant General,
By W.
JWK-H-221
DETROITER, WAR HERO, GIVEN HONOR CROSS
Washington, Sept. 27-A belated distinguished service
cross for extraordinary heroism at Villers-de-Mouzon,
France, November 7, 1918, was today awarded by the War
Department to Lieutenant Floyd T. Smith of 13570 Turner
Avenue, Detroit.
The citation follows:
"When the Meuse River was reached it was found
unfordable, thereby making it necessary to construct a
bridge. Lieutenant Smith, in charge of a platoon of four
machine guns, sighted two guns to support the engineers
building the bridge.
"He then
crossed the river alone under heavy machine gun fire on
the partially completed bridge in order to locate the
enemy.
"He
advanced on the supposed location of enemy machine gun
nests and fired upon them with a rifle. Two of the enemy
surrendered and several others fled.
"Holding
his prisoners at the bridgehead, he continued to fire on
the retreating enemy until the bridge was completed and
the patrols had crossed."
At that time Smith
was a second lieutenant. He was later advanced to first
lieutenant.
A short distance back from Autrecourt an ambulance loaded
with wounded became mired in a shell hole of mud and
everybody lent a hand to lift the bus out. There were
several A Company men in the ambulance who told us that
things were pretty hot up ahead. On the eighth of
November Lieut. Smith, with his platoon or what was left
of it, were back in Purron where the enemy shells killed
a few civilians. It was stated that the rest left and
gave A Company men everything in town. The nights of the
ninth and tenth were spent in a cow stable and on the
tenth the Boche put three holes through the roof of the
building some of the men were in, Sergeant Mahoney being
hit by tile thrown by one of the shells.
During the night,
in the woods back of Autrecourt, the C Company ration
cart came up with hot food and the regulation supply of
first class rumors about the end of the war being close
at hand. They were laughed off, as usual, as we could
foresee another long, drawn-out session getting across
the Meuse River and thoughts of the Vesle River again
came to mind. Trench cards were distributed by the
kitchen man and a number of us handed them in to be
mailed home bearing the message that we were well. This
was on the ninth and when the folks back home received
the cards they naturally started worrying about what had
taken place from the ninth to the eleventh of November.
There were two days there that had to be accounted for.
C Company swung
over left from Autrecourt and guns were mounted in the
underbrush at the edge of the woods overlooking a broad
sweep of the valley down to where the river had flooded
the lowlands. Dimly discernible in the distance could be
seen Sedan. We commanded a fine field of fire but the
positions were precarious as it meant keeping guns
dismounted in the daytime and staying down in the, damp
underbrush with as little activity as possible. We had
been warned against taking a short cut across a small,
open spot in the woods as it was sure to draw fire but
our old friend, Wanner, probably thought he was immune.
He disregarded the warning and won a nice black eye for
himself from the fist of Sergeant Prior.
Then came the
morning of the ELEVENTH. So far as we were concerned it
started out to be just another morning in the lines when,
to our astonishment, there appeared, out in the open,
Charlie Hover, Acting Company Clerk. He was proceeding
along the edge of the woods yelling at the top of his
lungs for Sergeant Russell. We could hardly believe our
eyes. Was the man mad? "Hover, you this, that and
the other thing, come in out of there I" Everybody
was yelling frantically but Hover calmly waved us back
and kept on. In a few moments came the booming voice of
Sgt. Russell giving us the message that Hover had
brought. "DISMOUNT ALL GUNS, MEN, AND DO NO FIRING
UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES UNTIL FURTHER ORDERED."
So, at eleven
o'clock, came the end and, to us, Hover has always been
the "Man who stopped the war".
It was not easy to
believe and, for several minutes, there was
uncertainty as to just what to do. After what we had been
through it required some nerve to stand up in the face of
the enemy in daylight. A man almost had to pinch himself
to realize that the war was over and he was still in one
piece.
An armistice had
been signed but it had always been our understanding that
an armistice was just a temporary halt and it was
possible that we would be called upon to continue. An
old, ruined barn down in the valley was designated as the
gathering place and the night of the eleventh was spent
on the dry boards of what remained of the floors. An
estimate of the number of the original men of C Company
places the figure at thirty-eight and, of this number,
many had been back to the hospital wounded, gassed or
sick so that, of the men who left Camp Upton, there was a
mere half dozen on the line at the finish who were lucky
enough to come through unscathed. The same no doubt holds
true for the other companies of the Battalion.
Almost as soon as
the hostilities ceased, different kinds of guns took
command of the situation. They were the Chow Guns or
rolling kitchens and they surely started to roll. The
rattle of chains and rumble of wheels came from all
points and clouds of smoke that cooks had all along been
desperately struggling to keep down, now floated merrily
skyward and what a treat to get some hot food. It was
always good to see the kitchen crew anyway and after
coming out of the line there was something
"homey" about milling around the kitchen.