FIRST AID
ON FOUR FRONTS IN
WORLD WAR I
308th Medical Detachment
Letters written by,
Sgt. 1st
Class
William D. Conklin
OCTOBER
(Written
at Abri du Crochet- Argonne Forest, in a Former German
Headquarters Called the "Waldhaus Martha")
October 18, 1918
What we had waited for, for many a week--the relief of
the Division--has apparently been accomplished at last.
At, all events another division (the 78th) did come in
and take our place. Just now we are some kilos from the
front and not expecting to be sent back right away. If we
had been allowed to take a rest when we wanted, it, the
work for which this Division is best known would have
been done by some other. The Regiment has been doing
itself proud. This is apparently known in New York, for
Chaplain H (Halligan) had a cable telling about a big
celebration that had been held by the (308)th Infantry
Association. We still belong to New York by origin,
although our replacement troops have come largely from
the west and the southwest, some even from California. Of
the sixteen who came up together from Georgia (Camp
Greenleaf. Fort Oglethorpe) to form the nucleus of our
outfit, only two of the Battalion sergeants and myself
remain. (The Historical Sketches preceding those Letters
say "seventeen.") To be sure, some of the
others were transferred before we left camp. Only one
officer who came over with us is still with the
Detachment, and we hope we shall never lose him, for he
is a prince. (Lieut., later Capt., A. D. Morgan.)
I remember the last time I wrote I was in an ex-German
dugout. Now here I am in another and here have been
several in between. I will try to tell the story from the
morning of the 8th in sequence so far as possible.
The lieutenant and I left the concrete dugout and made
our way up to the Regimental Aid Post. Here we found that
the whole Detachment (or all those available) had been
divided into teams and had gone up and across a nearby
valley in order to take care of a battalion which had
been trapped there for six days, The Boches had worked in
all around them, and it was only after a number of
attempts that they were rescued from a desperate
situation. But they wouldn't surrender, although the only
food they had had lately was what little could be dropped
from airplanes, The only messengers able to get through
were carrier pigeons,
Practically all the survivors had to be sent off to the
hospital. Those who were not wounded were so weak from
exhaustion that they needed a good long rest. Fortunately
a road was found that permitted ambulances to come up
within a few yards of the stretcher cases. By packing the
cars to the limit, with the less serious cases clinging
to the running boards, we got this big evacuating job
done by 2:00 in the afternoon. You never saw such a
patient crowd. There they sat along the side of the road,
wrapped in blankets, each of them looking like a cross
between a specter and a hobo, waiting their turn without
a Murmur.
We made our way back afterward along a narrow gauge track
that the Boches in retreating had tried their hardest to
put out of commission. They had left quite a long
stretch, however, and along this we pushed a diminutive
flat car. On it was enthroned the most chipper stretcher
case I ever saw. He was a young fellow, hardly more than
a boy, who had been wounded and taken prisoner by the
Germans. In their haste they had left him behind. We
picked him up and found he had a probable leg fracture
and other wounds. He said the Boches had been quite
decent to him. Another chap we met had escaped being made
a prisoner by playing dead every time a Fritz was near.
Some of our
detachment men had been assigned to duty with companies
that were caught in the "pocket" and we found
the Infantry officers and men enthusiastic over their
work. After two of them had been wounded, the others had
to keep o the go night and day, scrambling around through
the woods in answer to calls for first aid. Our men who
have been out with the companies have borne the brunt of
things. They have great stories to tell, but they are
uniformly modest about their own exploits.
The chief hero
of the episode I have related, the battalion commander,
had been a Captain for more than a year (since we arrived
in camp). For ten days he had been wearing the gold
leaves of a major, and the morning the "pocket"
was opened, his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel came
through in record time from G. H. Q. A very unassuming
and kindly man and, I have heard it said, one of the best
tacticians in the Division
I spent one
night at what was once a large German hospital camp. A
railway track runs up to what was probably the receiving
station, before one of our shells obliterated it. From
here men could be carried farther to the rear, or back
again to the front. The main building is on the side of a
hill, arranged like a flight of great steps. A long
outside stairway connects the rooms on different levels.
Concrete and steel construction, the roof carrying a
six-foot thickness of the former material, protects it as
well as any building could be protected. The rooms opened
our eyes to the luxury enjoyed by the German high
command. That used by Captain W (Wagner) as an office,
and in which I slept one night, the Brigadier general
moved into the next day. There were curtains at the
windows, a decorative frieze around the wall, framed
pictures, fancy electroliers, writing table, bookcase,
etc.
If anything, the next place we moved to outdid the other.
It resembled a rustic hunting lodge, and apparently had
been a Swabian staff headquarters. (It was called
"Schwaben Haus") Opposite the fireplace in the
dining hall was a large round table anchored in an
alcove. I suppose this, and the typically German
beer-garden terrace outside, had seen many a royal
conference. Two of as found a little white washed room,
containing the two comforts of a stove and an electric
light, and we made ourselves very cozy. As usual, it was
too good to last. The next day we moved, and that night
found us in a patch of scrubby woodland (not far from
Lancon). Coming to a halt late, we put down. stretchers,
and didn't even bother to pitch our shelter tents, The
next move brought us to a farm (Malassise Farm; popularly known as
"Molasses Farm" ) on the bank of a famous river (the Aisne), Here were
the headquarters of several units, including the Ambulance Company which
was evacuating for us. We found room, in one of the many buildings. It
hadn't much in the way of walls but it did have a fairly whole roof. We
screened off one corner with blankets and shelter halves to provide a
place where we could light a candle. Until we did this, we used to turn
in at about 6:30 for lack of anything better to do. Hare we remained
while one of our battalions went up into the
line.
When the Division was relieved, we started back, meeting
on the way the division ordered to take our place. This
always reminds me of Brer Fox descending into the well in
one bucket, while Brer Rabbit ascends to light and a
cheerful world in the other. The resemblance
Would be stronger if it were not such an ordeal to leave
the forward area and got out of somebody elses way,
The division that relieved us, the 78th, did not arrive
as soon as expected, but we had our orders to move out.
The consequence was that Grandpre, an important
objective, which had been taken by the 77th, was
reentered by the Germans, and several days later our
Regiment, on call in reserve, was ordered to the front in
the middle of the night, to support the 78th in its
effort to retake the town. Before our men got there the
town had been occupied by the 78th and the long hike back
was undertaken at once. Pushing through a relief as
quickly as possible always entails temporary hardship, I
suppose we marched eight or ten miles, mostly in a
drizzling rain and in mud up to our ankles. The mud,
fortunately while disagreeable, is thin, almost fluid,
resembling concrete in the making, and does not make as
much trouble as it might. I had put my roll on the
Headquarters G.S. wagon, at Captain VP s (Wagner' s)
suggestion, so I had only my haversack and belt to carry.
With me were five new men who had just core from the
States, and were carrying packs that had never been
reduced to the minimum that a quick move necessitates. I
expected that by the time these packs were soaked
through, several of the owners would have given up the
effort, but not one of them did. They were game and stuck
it out, and were none the worse the next morning. One of
them who had never learned to roll a pack properly lost
one of a pair of brand new shoes, so the other was left
in the ditch! "Exigencies of the Service" will
cover this disappearance on the next Quartermaster
requisition.
About nine that evening we stopped to bivouac, No shelter
was visible, and most of us had just enough energy left
to get our tents up and turn in. Others, who lacked the
halves to make a whole, built fires and dozed around them
through the night. It was hardest on the boys who had
just come from some very active work at the front. But I
suppose it couldn't be helped. Arrangements usually come
from Corps or some other high source and the commander of
a battalion, a regiment or even a brigade may have no
control over the situation. It did make us disgusted,
though, when next morning we found plenty of comfortable
shacks in the neighborhood, almost within a stone's
throw.
Capt. W (Wagner), Capt. H (Hewey), our chief dental
surgeon, a Couple of assistants, and I have now come down
to the Regimental Headquarters. It is established on a
hillside, with a deep valley below, and woods all around.
The foliage here is very heavy and in its autumn coloring
reminds me of tree-covered hills in New York or
Massachusetts. Such a contrast as it is to the barren
wreck of a forest where our drive started--not a leaf on
thousands of trees, only jaunt trunks and shattered
limbs, and below a tough, almost impenetrable,
undergrowth ten feet high and imbedded in mud.
The boys are pretty well cheered up tonight, Several big
tents were pitched at a point convenient for the whole
regiment, and therein were installed shower baths and all
sorts of clothing supplies. We were glad to have a
complete new issue, instead of having our duds put
through the steam sterilizer (in plain language, the
delouser). I don't know that we were in as ragged a
condition as once before when I remember seeing a good
many men who were more out of their clothes than in them.
One of my friends (William Lindorff) was a pretty sad
sight the day he was notified that a commission as second
Lieutenant in the Artillery had at last come through for
him, and he was ordered to Saumur for further training.
Fortunately, before descending en route on Paris, he was
able to buy a uniform from one of our officers. You can
perhaps imagine the difficulties of keeping a division
outfitted when it dashes from one front to another.
Here it is within a day of six months since we first
found ourselves arriving at "an English port"
(Liverpool). Within forty-eight hours we were in France.
(A night trip to Dover, few hours there, and we crossed
to Calais.) That means that we are due for our first
little gold service stripe, a "v" worn on the
left arm. In this Division it is rumored that because we
have been in the forward areas 120 days without a rest,
we shall wear inside the "v" a small silver
star. That will make one look quite like an understudy
for a brigadier general, (This was only a rumor!)
I should like the "Stars and Stripes" issue of
October 11th saved, for reasons that may be clear from
reading that issue and this letter.
I am sending the addressed poster for a Christmas package
more as a joke than seriously, for I don't know what
"you all" could collaborate on sending that I
need or that would fit the prescribed- size box. Since
this morning, when an American commissary set up a big
tent and sold me a shaving brush and a tooth brush. I
feel well supplied with necessaries. I had previously
salvaged two razors, one straight and one safety. All my
handkerchiefs, except the one in my pocket, were deftly
carried away early one morning, during the excitement
incident to an advance. Perhaps a few khaki colored
handkerchiefs and a Prophylactic toothbrush would be as
welcome as anything. My wants are few, and if this
migration of ours really lands us in or near some
civilized spot they will be fewer, if wishes were horses
or Huyler's. I'd say make it some of the latter, but
under the circumstances they would be about equally
transmittable,
Practically all we know regarding peace possibilities is
rumor, we surely have Fritz on the run, and I believe the
German army knows what is the inevitable end. But the
idea of unconditional surrender is a bitter pill for
their national pride to swallow. It does not seem
possible that they would face another winter. This time
they would have no prospect of being allowed to settle
down beside a stove to enjoy the long winter evenings
reading, with a Mazda, lamp adjusted at the correct
angle; not to forget a warm shower before retiring.