HISTORY
OF THE 305th FIELD ARTILLERY
by
Charles Wadsworth Camp
1919
XIX
SPIES AND THE ADVANCE
CHERY CHARTREUVE did not prove to be the ideal command
post the Second Battalion had hoped. The Huns undoubtedly
knew the town was thick with headquarters, and,
logically, shelled it a good deal. So Major Wanvig
decided to move to a cave in dead space in the steep
hillside to the east of Chery.
The move was originally planned for August 24th. On the
morning of the 23rd Regimental Headquarters called for a
number of barrages, then abruptly shortened the lines.
This meant to everyone a strong enemy attack; perhaps
that vast effort we had sometimes looked for to recapture
the lost ground in another drive for Paris. As a matter
of fact the enemy did get La Tannerie and portions of the
south bank of the river that morning, but they were
unable to hold their gains for very long.
In the midst of the confusion born of this rapid and
unexpected work Major Wanvig telephoned from Regi-mental
Headquarters to move the P. C. at once. At that time the
battalion staff was really too small for its routine
work. Lieutenant Fenn gave the difficult task of wiring
the new P. C. to Sergeant Froede, and tried to keep
things going from the old headquarters.
All afternoon and evening the batteries continued their
firing. At midnight a complete programme came in from
Regimental Headquarters for a rolling barrage to
accompany a counter attack by our infantry. It was
hurriedly figured, and rapid firing went on until 5 A.M.
Word came then to cease firing. It was also explained
that there had been a misunderstanding and that the
infantry had not counter-attacked. So much ammunition was
ex-pended that night that stray dumps were scoured for
ser-viceable shells. Still before many hours a
counter-attack was staged that reached its objectives.
Without inter-fering with its programme the Second
Battalion got into its cave where it was never once
shelled.
That night was exceptional, but every day and every night
an enormous quantity of ammunition was fired. Under such
conditions there were inevitably charges of short firing.
The Germans had a number of guns in the vicinity of
Rheims that occasionally treated infantry and artillery
to a few shells. These seemed to drop from behind us,
although what we suffered was really only enfilade fire.
It is not extraordinary that the infantry should have
thought some of these puzzling shells were shorts from
their own artillery.
One day Captain Whelpley was sent from Regimental
Headquarters to investigate such a charge, which had been
advanced by Captain C. W. Harrington of the 308th
Infantry.
Captain Whelpley lost some time at Les Pres Farm wait-ing
for a guide, so that it was dark when, after a hazardous
walk, he reached Captain Harrington's command post to the
north of the Vesle. It seemed impracticable to return
that night, but Captain Whelpley had intended to start at
daybreak. With the first light, however, the Huns put
down an intensive barrage which lasted for an hour, and
made a shell hole a pleasanter place than the open. This
was followed by an infantry attack in strength. Captain
Whelpley picked up a rifle and told Captain Harrington he
would help. With a party of men he moved to the edge of a
patch of woods to observe and cover Harrington's left
flank. He also maintained liaison with neighboring units.
His party killed ten Germans and captured three. For this
voluntary assistance to the infantry at a critical time
he was mentioned, after the armistice, in division
orders. If it had not been for the Colonel, who asked for
an explanation of his absence, the story of his courage
might not have been made public.
Charges of short firing were always investigated but
never amounted to anything on the Vesle. For the
regiment, short-officered as it was, had developed a
facility with figures and execution that left small room
for mistakes. The lessons learned here made the problems
of the Argonne for the 305th comparatively simple. Such
experience is not gained without a continued cost.
The enemy got First Class Private Frederick J. Weeber of
Battery E on August 25th. He was in his gun emplacement
with another cannoneer when an over, intended for the
Chery crossroads, fell just outside.
"Lookout!" Weeber called to his companion.
He didn't duck low enough himself. The other man escaped,
but Weeber was carried to join that great silent army
that lies in the shallow graves of Champagne.
The Huns favorite type of warfare seemed now and then to
be aided by a brutal sort of luck.
It was said some time back that we were taught not to
care as much as we had for the Y. M. C. A. in Chery
Chart-reuve. The lesson came on August 28th. Even if the
passage was risky it was a relief to get permission to
leave one's position and dodge to the pleasant odors and
com-panionships of that little store.
On this day there was a long line of infantrymen and
artillerymen waiting in the street to get to the counter.
That particular shell seemed guided by an evil genius. It
fell in the middle Of the line, burst, and harvested
eighteen casualties. Of our regiment Private Charles C.
Rosalia, Battery E, was killed; and Privates Rasmus
Hanson, Battery E, Dona J. Monette, Battery E, and
Corporal Alexander Landsman, Battery D, were wounded.
On the whole, though, one wonders that we didn't have
more casualties in that heavily shelled, unprotected
sector. We suffered a good many more than we liked, but
the regiment felt that its intelligent discipline kept
the list down.
There were some duties, naturally, that had to be done
blindly, as it were, without using brains or anything
else to protect yourself. Barrages had to be fired
whether your position was being shelled or not. Rocket
guards, when their comrades scattered for the funk holes
at the first warning shell, had to stand their ground,
and take whatever came.
Private Hackett of Battery B was caught like that one
night. He remained sitting on an empty ammunition box,
his glance always on Boston ridge, while his more
fortunate friends got out of the way. He was pathetically
reminiscent of the well-sung young man who stood upon the
burning deck when be very well knew he ought to have been
nearly anywhere else.
A shell burst at Private Hackett's feet. When the smoke
and dust cleared away he still sat upon the box, and his
gaze was still on the ridge, but now his feet were in a
new crater. So he lived to become known admiringly as
"The Salvage King." His own description of the
moment was:
"Think? When the thing went off I expected to see
myself in little pieces."
On the Vesle spies were more dreaded than in Lorraine.
The bitter nature of the fighting placed in a spy's hands
the lives of more men.
During several nights we noticed the unequal flashing of
a lamp on Boston Ridge, The infantry there had seen it,
too. Many efforts were made to catch the operator, yet
none met success. If he was a spy he was an amazingly
clever one. If he was a telephone linesman, carelessly
using, against all orders, a light as he worked on a
wire, he was lucky far beyond his due. At any rate after
a few nights the flashing ceased.
The order from General Bullard, which follows, tells its
own story:
P. C. Third Army Corps
31 August 1918-21:30 Hr. G-3 Order
No. 56
1. During the attack of the enemy against Fismette,
August 27th someone in American uniform ran among our
troops shouting that further resistance was useless and
that one of our officers advised everybody to surrender.
These statements were absolutely incorrect because
further resistance was not useless and no officer had
advised surrender. Never-the less, because of lack of
training and understanding, the results were as follows:
Out of 190 of our troops engaged in this fight, a few
were killed or wounded, about 30 retreated fighting and
escaped, and perhaps 140 surrendered or were captured.
2. A person who spreads such an alarm is either an enemy
in our uniform, or one of our own troops who is disloyal
and a traitor, or one of our own troops who has become a
panic -stricken coward. WHOEVER HE IS, HE SHOULD BE
KILLED ON THE SPOT.
3. In a battle there is no time to inquire into the
identity or motives of persons who create panic,
disorganization or surrender. It is the duty of every
officer and soldier to kill on the spot any person who in
a fight urges or advises anyone to surrender or to stop
fighting. It makes no difference whether the person is a
stranger or a friend, or whether he is an officer or a
private.
4. The day before the attack on Fismette a German soldier
was seen and mortally wounded by our men in Fismes, far
inside our lines. He was well stocked with food. He had
lived many years in America. It is possible that he was
to get himself an American uniform and, because of his
knowl-edge of our language and customs, was to be used to
create doubt and disorganization among our men.
5. Division Commanders will cause this order to be read
to each company or platoon in such manner as will insure
that every member of the command thoroughly understands
its contents.
By Command of Major General Bullard:
F. W. CLARK
Lieut. Col., G. S.,
A. C. of S., G-3
The attack against Fismette, mentioned in the foregoing
order, was one of the last determined offensive efforts
of the enemy on this front. It became clear about the
same time that a vast German retrograde movement was in
contemplation. Any change from Les Pres Farm would be a
welcome one.
The intensity of our firing increased, while Jerry's
waned. Undoubtedly we were making his plans difficult to
carry through.
On the night of September 3rd the observatories re-ported
many fires in Perles and its vicinity. A huge sheet of
flame advertised the explosion of a big ammunition dump.
Towards morning of the 4th the Hun-made fires thickened.
Evidently great quantities of stores and the buildings
that had housed them were being destroyed as an
alternative to leaving them for the Americans. The Hun
fire nearly ceased. Anyone who was there will recall the
blessed relief of being able to stroll about those
positions at last with a feeling of comparative safety.
Word came that the infantry was already moving forward.
The artillery would follow in support. Strong combat
patrols were already in contact with the enemy. It was
understood that if a battalion of infantry were sent as
an advance party across the Vesle, Battery D of our
regiment would cross too. But the Hun went faster than
the most optimistic had prophesied, and the entire
regiment started forward on the 5th.
The old positions were policed and equipment made ready
on the night of the 4th. Early the next morning the
limbers came down from the echelon, whips cracked, and,
after those unpleasant weeks about Les Pres and Chery,
the regiment was on the road again.
Since they had been widely scattered, the batteries
followed the most convenient routes while agents kept
them in touch with battalion headquarters.
Regimental Headquarters went forward to the desolate
ruins of Fismes and established itself in a cellar.
Oppo-site the cellar steps an alley ran between tumbled
walls. The horses, motorcycles, and bicycles were placed
here as the safest place in the vicinity.
Shortly after the party had arrived Private Wallace
Fisher, of the Headquarters Company, motorcycle driver
for the Second Battalion, entered this alley and started
to make some repairs on his machine. He was the only man
there, so no one saw the thing happen. In the cellar they
heard a dud fall, and another shell come over and
detonate across the street. Corporal Tucker ran from the
cellar to see if the horses had been struck. Two were
down. The third, which, curiously, had been the center
one of the trio, was unhurt.
Tucker saw that both motorcycles had been smashed. He saw
Fisher lying beside one, and called to him. Fisher didn't
answer, and the scout went closer. Fisher had been
killed.
Tucker reported back across the street, and a party
buried Fisher in the garden behind headquarters, making
for his grave a rough cross from the wood of a splintered
door.
Battalion commanders with their captains or
recon-naissance officers started forward early to select
new posi-tions in the vicinity of Ville Savoie and Saint
Gilles. It rained hard, and the complaints were bitter
and many -at first. A little later the men realized what
a blessing the bad weather was. For the Huns still held
control of the air. With better visibility he would have
dropped more bombs and directed better fire on our
columns which crawled by daylight along crowded roads. He
would have interfered more disagreeably with the taking
up of the new positions. One fellow did appear, flying
low to get beneath the mist. The battery machine gunners
greeted him with shouts, sending such well-directed
streams of machine gun bullets at his plane that he left
the cannoneers to settle their guns in peace. '
While it was perfectly obvious these positions would be
occupied only a short time, they were consolidated,
after the habit of the regiment, as if they were intended
for the duration of the war. The cannoneers dug in, and
officers and details figured firing data, and ran long
dif-ficult lines for only a few hours' use. First
Battalion
Headquarters had moved out of Les Pres Farm to a house
near Mont Saint Martin. It was necessary for its
bat-teries to be in telephonic liaison with it.
After only a little firing the order came to move again
at midnight. The limbers had been echeloned in the
neighborhood, so that there was no delay starting.
Every-one knew the next stop would be nearer the enemy,
and that the guns must be in position and hidden before
day-light.
The batteries rendezvoused near the crossroads between
Fismes and La Tannerie. Battalion Headquarters went ahead
to the crossroads. It threatened to be an unhealthy
place. The Huns did commence to shell it, but most of
their projectiles fell to the right in low ground. Here
again the rain proved its friendliness, for in the wet
soil the majority of the shells buried themselves without
exploding.
Nevertheless such waiting was nervous business, for there
was always the prospect that the Hun would sweep, or at
least shift his deflection. He seemed, however, to have
lost some of his skill, or else he imagined himself
directly on his target. The column grew restless.
"What's slowing us up?"
"Where are we going anyway?"
Whispers filtered back.
"We're going across the Vesle. It's the bridges that
are slowing us tip."
There was a dramatic quality about this realization.
Across the Vesle and to those, very heights from which
Jerry had pounded the regiment for so long!
Everyone was curious, too, as to the kind of bridge he
would find, and about the cost at which any bridge must
have been built in such a place. The news, moreover,
brought some apprehension. If the crossing of the Marne
had caused misgivings, the passage of the Vesle created
graver ones. The Hun artillery must surely have it
reg-istered. It was inconceivable one could get over
without a shelling. Perhaps that explained the delay. The
bridge might be down, or it might be blocked by dead
animals and broken carriages.
Long drawn, the command to get ahead ran down the line.
Horses stumbled forward. The luminous faces of wrist
watches appeared like fireflies here and there as the men
took a check on the time.
Almost immediately the rumbling of wheels on planks came
back. Word was passed along that there would be two
streams to cross. At each men would dismount and lead
their animals over most carefully, for there were no side
guards or rails, and the column wasn't using any flares
to guide its feet.
The carriages rumbled on the planking. Down below,
between steep banks, rushed a narrow and black stream-the
Ardre, about a kilometer from its junction with the
Vesle.
There was no disturbance there, and the column was
swallowed by the crumbling outskirts of Fismes. Just
beyond the road swept to the right into the main highway
to Braine and so came upon the Vesle.
The only light was from Jerry's distant flares and star
shells. It wasn't much. It became clear to the men that
the enemy was after this second bridge. The rustle or
shriek of arriving shells was perpetual, but there was an
odd scarcity of detonations, and there was no halting.
At the river itself the reason became apparent. Again the
enemy had failed to register quite perfectly, and again
the low ground and the rain were friendly. Most of the
German projectiles were duds.
The river was scarcely wider than the Ardre, but the
bridge if anything, seemed narrower and riskier than the
other. Drivers led their horses and cannoneers manned the
wheels. There was only one casualty, and that aroused a
laugh that made itself audible above the shells. Musician
Scharf, acting as messenger, was crowded over the side,
and splashed in the deep, unpleasant current. They pulled
him out, and he went on his way, laughing, too.
The column hurried through Fismette, into which the
regiment had sent so many shells; and scattered into the
positions selected during the reconnaissances of the day
before.
The First Battalion commenced to dig in a kilometer south
of Blanzy, near a confluent of the Vesle.
The Second Battalion, which had come from its Chery home
without taking up intermediate positions, swung more to
the west, and with its batteries side by side
estab-lished itself on the slope of a deep ravine across
from Perles. By daylight every battery was in place.
The First Battalion settled its command post in a road
repairman's house on the Fismette-Blanzy road. There was
no cellar. The only protection was the stone walls of the
building.
The Second Battalion chose a German dugout in the ravine
between Perles and its guns.
Regimental Headquarters moved forward from Fismes on
September 8th and came upon what proved to be about its
nastiest experience of the war.
It was the custom for our headquarters to remain with
infantry brigade headquarters.
Near Blanzy was the cave of La Petite Logette, a huge
hole, which the Hun had long occupied, digging from it
many galleries. It was a perfect shelter except for one
thing. Its very appearance proclaimed it a gas trap.
Regimental Headquarters says that it had no oppor-tunity
to judge, so it established its command post with Brigade
Headquarters in the cave. Engineer and medical officers
worked nearly all day to purify the air of this
formidable hole. They declared the main portion was safe
when Colonel Doyle arrived the latter part of the
afternoon, but even then the place retained an atmosphere
unhealthy and ominous. The doctors had boarded up the
more suspicious of the galleries, and they warned the men
against invading the remainder.
The men, however, were very tired. The mere fact that
such a place had been chosen as command post was a
recommendation to them that it was safe. Some of the
galleries were a good deal quieter than the main portion
of the cave.
Regimental Headquarters set to work at La Petite Logette,
quite a different affair from Regimental Headquarters on
the table in the mess hall of J1 at Camp Upton.
There were about forty men attached to it at that time.
After dark, when all the soldiers, not on missions,
should have been in the large cave or near the entrance,
a check was taken and a number reported as missing. The
searchers entered the forbidden galleries and found a
number asleep or resting, quite unaware of the risk they
ran. All were gassed to some degree. They were removed
and treated, and the night's work went on.
About midnight a new condition stealthily disclosed
itself. Men sniffed the air of the main cave. Clearly it
was poisoned. So much gas could not have escaped from the
galleries. The Huns, beyond question, must have buried
gas shells in the floor of the cave, surrounding them
with an acid, perhaps, to eat through the casings and so
release the fumes when the occupants were without
suspicion.
Most of those who had spent the evening in the cave were
unfit for duty. There was no other shelter near by, but
the Colonel ordered everyone out of the cave.
"The entire medical staff (officers and men),"
to quote Colonel Doyle's account of the evening,
"had been gassed and were unable to give any
assistance. Colonel Doyle alone remained in the cave,
giving aid to a constant stream of gassed men."
As is usual with slight cases of mustard gas poisoning
eyes suffered most of all, and many were temporarily
blinded. After their eyes had been bathed with a weak
alkaline solution the victims were hurriedly evacuated. A
few were more seriously affected.
Colonel Doyle worked until 4:30 in the morning when he
was forced to leave the cave. A medical officer of the
Engineers, who had been summoned, took his place.
The effects of the gas on the Colonel were slow. He
stayed by the telephone all day. It was only after a hard
day's work, in fact, towards 10 o'clock, that he lost the
use of his eyes. As long as he could talk, however, he
insisted on staying with his regiment, and he was not
evacuated until midnight. The regiment did not lose him
for long, but he suffered from his experience for many
months afterward.
The list of officers and men more or less gassed in this
extraordinary incident includes: Colonel Doyle, Captain
Gammell, Captain Mitchell, Lieutenant Klots (his second
wound stripe), Sergeant Bromm, Sergeant Mamluck,
Sergeant-major Miller, and Gillette, Hoffman, Kurash,
Palmer, Pullen, Saloman, and Wallach.
The regiment had struggled through its most difficult
days with insufficient officers. When the word came that
it was to receive replacements, officers and men took the
news skeptically. Only two or three had come in before
the crossing of the Vesle, but now the rush commenced.
First Lieutenant H. J. Svenson had arrived on September
1st, but he was invalided away on the 14th. Second
Lieutenants George E. Putnam and Jesse W. Stribling bad
reported on the 3rd, but the real influx came when the
batteries were in their new positions across the Vesle.
On September 8th Second Lieutenants Stedman B. Hoar, and
David J. Macleod, a veterinarian, reported. On the 9th
came Second Lieutenants Osbon W. Bullen, Johnston
Copelin, Raymond E. Dockery, Leon H. Hattemer, and Harold
Holcomb. On the 10th the arriving stream of subalterns
seemed a beautiful dream. That day brought Second
Lieutenants Roy H. Camp, Thadeus R. Geisert, Edward W.
Hart, Albert B. Hill, Waldo E. McKee, Thomas M. Norton,
Reuben T. Taylor, John G. Teichmoeller, Philip A.
Wilhite, and Charles L. Graham.
These were practically all young men from the Artillery
School at Saumur. They were distributed among the three
headquarters and the batteries, and made the fighting
between the Vesle and the Aisne far simpler than it had
been in the short-handed days of Les Pre Farm.
For self-sacrificing work in the Vesle-Aisne fighting
Lieutenant Thayer, Corporal Ramsdell, and Privates
Shackman and McCune received divisional citations.
This campaign was in many ways far less exacting than the
preceding one. The regiment, to be sure, was opposite the
pivotal point of the Hun line between Soissons and
Rheims, but, although there was plenty of artillery
opposite, the shooting seemed poorer, and there were
fewer casualties.
The weather played its share, too. The brilliant, warm
days of Les Pres Farm were replaced by much mist and
rain. The nights, too were colder. The men, therefore,
did not need much urging to dig themselves in. Very few
German dugouts could be used, because their openings were
in the direction of hostile fire. But German straw could
be carried from its old home to the new hillside
apartments of the Americans. Tiny, living souvenirs may
have come with that straw, but one acquired those anyway,
and it seemed a small price then, before the S. 0. S.
inspectors got at the regiment, to pay for warmth.
There's no point in wasting words on cooties.
Prac-tically every man and officer knows all there is to
say about them.
Observation brought its difficulties here also. There was
no satisfactory observatory near the First Battalion
Command post, so Lieutenant Thayer pushed forward to the
very front line of the infantry. On the edge of the ruins
of Serval he found a deserted house. It stood on high
ground in a salient of the American front line, so that
it was exposed to fire from three sides. Yet while nearly
everything else in Serval had been destroyed, this
building was comparatively whole.
Lieutenant Thayer didn't attempt to get his men in or run
a telephone line until after dark. The line was long and
difficult to keep open, but for the most part
com-munication was maintained. By using extreme care the
presence of observers in the house was kept from the
Germans. Only once while the regiment was in that
posi-tion did the place get a direct hit. Yet it was
necessary to make reliefs to carry in food, to bring
water from a well in Serval, and to have telephone men
coming along the line whenever it went out.
You might hear such a conversation as this in the lower
room, after a telephone man has crawled in and lies on
his back, catching his breath.
"You fixed the line all right," says one of the
observers gratefully. " What kind of a trip did you
have? "
"As per usual, Kid," the telephone man explains
as he rests. "All the way across, Jerry threw G. 1.
cans at me as if they didn't cost a cent. When I gets to
the foot of the hill here a machine gun goes
pop-pop-pop-pop. I plays possum, but for a long time,
every time I lifts my head, pop-pop-pop-pop he goes
again. Honest, George, I've never felt very harsh towards
the Bosche, but, George, when they turn a machine gun
loose on one poor linesman every time he moves his little
finger, I say they ain't right-minded folks. Can't tell
me any atrocity stories I won't swallow now,
George."
The interior of the stone house was given over to
per-petual watchfulness. Old clothing was hung across the
front windows so that no one would be silhouetted for the
benefit of the Germans, and behind these the instruments
were placed. Day and night Lieutenant Thayer and his
scouts watched the Germans, and the effect of our fire,
within calling distance, practically, of his victims.
Positions very much less exposed didn't fare so well. The
Supply Company, when the regiment crossed the river moved
forward from Nesles Woods to the grove behind Les Pres
Farm in which Battery C had been stationed until
September 5th. By all the rules of the game that should
have been a safer place than Nesles Woods. The Supply
Company had two men killed during the war, and both were
lost in this place.
This tragedy recalled the earlier charges of
short-firing. With all of the batteries far forward no
such explanation could be advanced here. Evidently the
Hun guns near Rheims were at work again. The Supply
Company men indulged in the wildest hazards to account
for this strange shelling. There was talk of
supernaturally concealed guns left by the Germans when
they had retreated. There were whispers of an
extraordinary underground railway on which the Bosche
moved big guns to convenient trap doors within our lines.
For, until the Rheims explanation was generally passed
around, this fire did look like magic.
It was on September 11th that these shells got Wagoners
Jackob E. Jackson and Fiori Fillici.
There had been some firing, but at three o'clock it
lifted, and the men poured from their funk holes and
re-turned to work.
Jackson was cleaning harness at one of the wagons when
the company clerk came up and spoke to him. The waggoner
was very happy, for he had just that day received a
letter from home, telling him that his wife had presented
him with a son. He displayed the letter to the clerk, and
they chatted cheerfully about the future. With the Huns
falling back all along the line it might be only a few
months before Jackson would be on his way home to this
new arrival. The clerk promised to look after the
additional government allowance which the baby's birth
would give Jackson's wife.
"My wife," Jackson said, "needs the money
very much, because things are so high in the
States."
He said nothing more after that. The clerk climbed into
the wagon to search for something the captain had left
there, and at once the Huns resumed their odd shelling.
The third shell, the clerk said, seemed to burst directly
beside the wagon. A piece hit him in the leg, inflicting,
however, only a slight wound. When he climbed down he saw
Jackson lying on the ground, a medical orderly bending
over him. A piece of the shell had struck him in the back
of the head. He died on the way to the hospital.
Fillici was killed during the same bombardment, although
he was a short distance from the echelon. He had started
on a horse without saddle or bridle to get some medicine
from the Veterinary Detachment. Fillici had volunteered
for this service as the company veterinarian was occupied
at the moment. He had been advised to take a short cut,
but instead chose the main road.
The news of his death was brought by French soldiers who
had been working on the road. The shell, they said, had
burst very close to Fillici, knocking him from his horse.
Fillici had been killed, but the horse had not been
scratched. The Frenchmen said that the same shell had
killed a captain and a lieutenant of the 305th Infantry.
When one considers the number of shells that fall idly it
is astonishing to count up the amount of damage some one
shell, better aimed, or carried by chance, will
accomplish. The First Battalion got one of these at its
command post near Blanzy on September 15th.
For days shells of all calibers had fallen about the
place without accomplishing any more damage than tearing
up the soil. Then this one arrived. It fell at the picket
line. The horses stood in a row. Private Almer M. Aasgard
groomed a horse near the end of the line. Near him sat a
group of telephone men, winding wire on makeshift reels
-a necessary diversion of the telephone detail when there
was nothing else to do. The men heard the whine of the
approaching shell and realized from their acquired
judgment that it would fall very near. They called out a
warning and ducked. Aasgard wasn't quick enough. A tiny
fragment cut into his neck, severing the jugular vein.
Dr. Cronin hurried to the doomed man. Aasgard died within
a few minutes.
The same shell caught Corporal Leonard Cook of the
telephone detail in the knee, disabling him and putting
him out of the war. An ambitious telephone man, he was
evacuated grumblingly, and was never returned to the
regiment. Other fragments cost the detail eight more of
its vanishing horses.
But these serious moments were the exception. Life north
of the Vesle was far less complicated than it had been
about Les Pres. There were, of course, minor cas-ualties.
First Class Private McGranaghan gave Sergeant Hickey an
opportunity to distinguish himself. McGrahaghan was hit
while working on the Serval line. Hickey, who had been on
duty in the observatory, picked him up and carried him
over a crest exposed to machine gun fire to the first aid
station.
These individual instances of courage were innumerable.
Men, however, don't say much about what they do
themselves. Unless someone happened to see their bravery
it drifted into that vast blurred background of devotion
and sacrifice against which the American soldier fought.
Between the Vesle and the Aisne the Second Battalion was
even more fortunate than the First. Major Wanvig's
command didn't have a single casualty in the Perles
posi-tions. Hun airmen gave it one bad night, and might
have done a lot of damage.
A bomber created the impression that he had located the
emplacements, for he dropped a number of flares over
them, and followed with two bombs in the ravine, which
missed Battalion Headquarters, and one on the slope close
to the guns, which splintered a number of trees.
A group of men from Battery D had a close run of it. They
had made themselves comfortable in a large German dugout
whose only overhead cover was a sheet of elephant iron.
At the first flare they decided there might be safer
places, and sought one. When they returned a few moments
later, after the plane had throbbed away, they found
their pleasant home, a mass of twisted elephant iron,
ploughed up dirt, and ruined equipment. The third bomb
had made a direct hit on the dugout in which they had
just before been crowded for warmth.
The regiment fired as persistently here as it had done in
the Les Pres and Chery positions. Barrage after barrage
Was thrown ahead of our infantry on La Petite Montagne,
which because of its pivotal situation was of great
strategic importance. Before it was captured the order
came for the regiment to move to other pastures.