I will try, while the scenes and happenings are still fresh
in my mind, to relate what takes place during a modern big battle.
Quite suddenly one night, while we were resting at Reddy
farm (this is the area through which our division made its great
advance north of Chateau Thierry, now generally spoken of
as the "Oureq to the Vesle"), I received an order to
pack at once and move with the "train" at zero hour.
Much would later be communicated. We hustled and loaded our trucks,
the men getting on and sleeping on top of the load. About midnight
the order to move came, and I lead my eight trucks with two side
cars, carrying Lieutenant Draper and Lieutenant Thompson, out
on the road and took my place in a long line of moving trucks.
All is done at night time with as little noise as possible and
absolutely no light. Yet the noise attracted some Boche planes
that are always soaring around overhead and a few bombs were
dropped in our vicinity. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Then the
train moved on along the road. Our ultimate destination we did
not know. We have maps furnished us and have to guide our own
course within certain limitations. At daybreak we pulled off
the road into a big forest and everyone threw himself down anywhere
and slept. Meanwhile a fire was started and coffee and bacon
with hardtack was served. Later in the morning we pulled out
again and rolled along for the rest of the day, stopping toward
evening for a brief rest. Knowing our general direction, we began
to plan at what point in the line our division would be stopped.
These movements are made at least 20 miles in back of the battlefield.
Soon our ultimate destination loomed up. It was to be at the
Aisne, north of Soissons. Toward evening we pulled into a big
forest of beechnuts, tremendous trees with foliage only at the
top. We rolled into this forest and were directed to a certain
place to camp, no one know how long. Soon the men had the pup
tents set up, a guard was posted and supper prepared. Other parts
of our division came up and went into the forest. Soon we were
surrounded by everything - infantry, artillery and the whole
division, hidden away in the woods.
The men all began to prepare bomb proofs and my officers
and I built one for ourselves. By using empty ammunition
boxes filled with sand, we made quite an enclosure which
was covered by canvas. The walls of our shelter were about 4
feet high, sufficient to protect us from flying shrapnel, when
we lay on our cots. Of course, a direct hit means extermination,
but there are few such and after a while one really becomes a
little indifferent to the whole affair, a fatalist.
That night, when all was settled and darkness was coming
on, my men, camped about 50 yards from me, began singing,
and I can't describe the sensation. It was the most impressive
thing I ever experienced in all my life. Here was an entire division
of over 20,000 troops, camped on the floor of a big forest. In
the gloom one could see horses, mules, trucks, machine guns,
artillery and what-not gathered in orderly groups, soldiers everywhere,
first in subdued silence. Then groups of men started singing
together - plaintive, then rollicking and finally "On Wisconsin."
I believe it thrilled everybody within hearing. I walked up and
found that already several hundred men were gathered in a circle
listening. Within a few more days many of those standing around
would be no more, except in memory. Those thoughts kept coming
to my mind because I suspected a big battle was about to be fought.
I was not depressed, but the solemnity of it all impressed me
very much. Soon it was quite dark and then a great silence fell.
The occasional whinnying of a horse, or restlessness of a mule
was all that could be heard, and everybody slept.
In the great darkness one could hear the sentries going on
their posts and all was quiet, when suddenly a tremendous
explosion, then another and another, with smaller ones interspersed,
and at the same time the hum of the motor of a German Avion would
be heard almost overhead. One knew at once what had happened;
the enemy planes had started high in the heavens, shut off their
motors and sailed down quietly and quickly as a bird, soaring
easily, unheard and unsuspected. As soon as their bombs were
dropped, they started their motors again.
Our anti-aircraft guns opened up and the din was terrible
for a half hour or so. The planes kept dropping big and little
bombs around, until unloaded and one dropped a big flare
bomb that lighted up the surroundings for several minutes. With
this light to guide him, the aviator opened up with his machine
gun on some troops that were still on the road and bullets whistled
through the leaves of the trees nearby. this was a typical attack
by airplane on troops bivouaced in woods.
Soon the anti-aircraft guns made it too hot for them and
they pulled away. The hum of their motors became dim and soon
everything was quiet again. From experience we know we were
likely to be left alone until about four a.m. This morning we
were more fortunate for no further visits took place. We remained
nestled in the woods all day.
That night, about midnight, I received an order by courier
to send an officer to a certain place and get maps and orders.
I sent Lieutenant Draper in a side car. All traveling, you
know, is done without lights, on roads loaded with all sorts
of traffic, so that it is no easy task to take such a trip. He
returned and I opened my order, which is secret. At 4:00 a.m.
I was to leave the woods and join others at a certain cross road.
I had my company awakened at 2:30 a.m. and at 4:00 we stole out
on the road, got to our place and shortly after started on our
way nearer the battle front. By noon we reached the Aisne. Here
again were the same kind of platoon bridges we had crossed down
on the Marne. My orders were to remain in the vicinity of a certain
town, or rather what is left of that town. We pulled our trucks
off the road under trees and camouflaged as well as we could.
Now we could easily hear the battle ahead of us, big guns were
in action and not infrequently, a particularly big German gun
would drop a shell not far away. They were trying for the bridges.
We remained there all day, though I received orders to go up
and pick out a place for an Advanced Surgical Hospital and "Triage."
I found an old chateau badly shot away, yet some rooms could
be fixed up for operating rooms. The roads in and out were good
for ambulances so I decided on this place. Had to persuade some
French who were their that I had authority from the highest source,
that the place was at my disposal. One must frequently do a little
of this bluffing business to get what one wants. I also selected
a place for a "Triage," the function of which I will
explain some time. As night came on our infantry began passing
us on the road, fellows we know would be greeted and a "Good
Luck" would be passed, also "Give 'em Hell," "Remember
the 32nd," "You know what you did to them at Chateau
Thierry." Then artillery rumbled by and soon we moved into
our new and final position for battle. All these movements are
made at night, when everything is inky black. You can't imagine
the difficulties. Men must walk in front of trucks so they can
keep on the road; then the shell holes! If one falls into one
of these in the dark a broken neck might be the souvenir, while
a truck or automobile will be almost ruined and certainly put
out of commission. After a while we reached our new home, the
old chateau, and trucks were unloaded, tentage put up, rooms
cleaned out, wooden horses put up to put litters on. Operations
are done right on litters, you know, the same one the soldier
is placed on when picked up on the field. One never changes a
man from one litter to another. The tentage for the Triage was
set up nearer the main road and I sent word by courier to headquarters
that Field Hospital 127 was ready, where it and the Triage are.
Then we sat down and waited and listened to the battle in front
of us.
I knew, of course, that our first brigade was to go in at
a certain time, and knew from experience when I could expect
the wounded to arrive.
Our objective was Juvigny. It had held out a long while and
formed the peak of a wedge in the line, the point sticking out
toward us. Our division was to take that town at all costs.
You know we were the only American division in the battle and
had been called up here by the French for this particular task.
Our division was specifically mentioned to do the job. We were
not and are not, this minute, associated with any American corps,
but form a part of the French 10th army corps under General Mangin.
Our first bridge went in at the time fixed and drove ahead.
The rest of that night a terrible battle raged ahead of us. Soon
the wounded began arriving and all of us began to work. Everybody
is occupied; all is darkness except in two rooms fixed up as
operating rooms, and here the windows or rather the window frames
(because all the glass is shot away), are covered with blankets.
Soon four wounded were being operated on at once. They were brought
in on litters and given ether. Two officers at each litter composed
the operating team. Only the worst cases are taken in here, so
you can hardly picture the frightful sights that soon became
commonplace. The work went on all night. Occasionally a bomb
or a shell dropped nearby, yet no one stopped. Once in a while
when one of these came a little close, all you heard was a muttered
curse by somebody. The Americans are certainly a profane bunch,
but somehow the profanity is not really thought of in that light.
It is merely an outlet for expressed feelings.
The next day our other brigade went in and soon we heard
from the wounded - the progress made. It was a terrific fight
here. The Germans resisted us with machine guns and artillery,
but they could not stop our boys! Finally one night they got
to the outskirts of the town and by the following morning had
driven the enemy out and almost six miles beyond. In fact they
drove them so far that the flanks or sides were exposed, the
French not having made equal progress on either side, so that
our division had to wait a whole day until this distance was
made up on the sides. Meantime the steady stream of wounded increased
and five days and nights we worked incessantly.
I worked mainly at Triage. This is a sorting station to which
all wounded come and are separated into those who can be
passed on to the rear in ambulances, and those who, owing
to their serious condition, must be operated on at once.
Owing to the lack of officers and rush of work, I did this
all alone, night and day, simply snatching a little sleep whenever
a lull permitted. I did not have my clothes off in over seven
days, not even my cap or Sam Browne belt. We worked in advance
of the advance surgical hospital, which was also mine. I had
with me 30 men as litter bearers, etc. It is an important piece
of work and difficult under the conditions. We must work at night
and if we show the slightest light, we are rewarded with a few
bombs.
The night activity in the air is an awesome sight. In the
midst of our work, we will hear the hum of several German planes,
then the nearby anti-aircraft guns open up and then, most
wonderful of all, powerful search lights throw beams of light
into the heavens, moving about constantly trying to pick up a
plane. Occasionally they do and we have seen such brought down
by the anti-aircraft guns. Yet in spite of all this noise and
hell going on all around us, our work goes on without confusion
or halt. Of course every once in a while I am forced to take
a situation in hand by rather forcible language, but generally
everything goes well, and our work becomes better and better.
I recently developed a system that has just appeared as an
order, which is something that no other division has. We are
in position to tell at any time of the battle just how many
are wounded and give the name, rank, company, etc. When handling
2,500 in two days this means work.
During this battle we handled a large number of German prisoners;
our men brought in a great many. Some were very
young and all seemed glad to be taken prisoners, except the
officers. We care for the severely wounded at our place, just
as we do our own, only they must wait until our own are taken
care of. We give them hot coffee and bread, for which they are
very thankful.
Now the battle is over, and our division has again covered
itself with glory. Our commanding general said his division
was the best in the whole U.S.A. army. We all think so. We
have passed through our second big battle in about six weeks.
Soon there will be many new faces in our ranks, but the spirit
will continue.
We are now known as the "Shock Division" and where
we go to next will be a place where they need a real fighting
unit.
I have not been able to relate one-tenth of what I saw during
this battle. A thousand things come to my mind at this minute,
but I can't write them all. I hope time will not wipe it out,
because my experiences must be of interest to you and the boys.
Extract from a letter from Major U. F. Lorenz,
commander of the Madison field hospital company, dated Sept.
7, 1918.
The French call this division the "Division Terrible,"
also the "ace" of American divisions and it is said
that the Germans
want to sign a separate peace with the 32nd.
From prisoners we get some interesting tales; for instance,
early in the fight they saw the drab uniform - there having
been no Americans up here, they thought we were English,
until during a charge, instead of our soldiers stopping when
several nests of machine-guns opened up on them, they kept on
coming. They knew then that these must be Americans and possibly
the same they had heard of at Chateau Thierry; true enough. The
number of prisoners taken by our troops was very large in spite
of what they are told by their officers. I got this myself from
a wounded German, that his officers told him by no means to be
taken prisoners because the Americans always cut the throats
of their prisoners. The poor devil believed this and was wondering
all the time when it was to happen. He was shot in the arm as
he tried to escape from a shell-hole in front and was then brought
in by one of our boys. There are a great number of young men,
almost boys, among those taken. All say they are 19 years old
but many appear to be 17. As I mentioned we treat these poor
fellows very well indeed; the wounded received the same care
that our own do and they are very thankful and surprised.
I had to laugh at a German officer who was brought in one
night. Soon after he arrived at my Triage he yelled in good
English (it was pitch dark), "I'm a German officer."
In the meantime one of my men had already said, "Come along,
Heine!" and I remarked, "Very well, old man, we take
care of officers here almost as well as we do German privates."
While he was in the tent several German planes passed overhead
and dropped a few big bombs around us, I was standing near where
this officer was seated with a number of other Germans. He asked
me what the bombs were, I told him that it was a common experience
for us to be bombed. He asked rather anxiously if we had to better
shelter than a tent, I told him we did not and he could do as
the rest; lie flat on the ground. He was very arrogant, a typical
Prussian. I took great delight in seating him among privates,
a thing they very much detest. They are really a class by themselves,
I feel sorry for most of the poor devils we get, but don't waste
any on these fellows.
I have not the slightest idea where we go from here, possibly
they may give us a real rest. On the other hand, there may
be a real job to do somewhere and we will be sent to do it.
By the way - with this second citation of our division we,
that is all of the division who were with it through the period,
can wear from their left shoulder a braided cord. Some call
it a "curtain cord." It is green with tassels, you
may have seen it in pictures. I don't know whether the Americans
will be allowed this distinctive mark. It is conferred by the
French. With a few more fights to our credit, we will be decked
out like peacocks.