HISTORY
of
THE 77th Division
1919
Tales of
the Battlefields
TALES OF THE BATTLEFIELDS
FIRING THE FIRST NATIONAL ARMY SHELL
THE 152D FIELD ARTILLERY BRIGADE was the first National
Army Artillery Brigade to go into action. The first shot
was fired in the Lorraine sector, the afternoon of July
12, 1918, by Battery A, 305th Field Artillery, with a
French 75 millimeter piece. Lieutenant-Colonel Henry L.
Stimson, former Secretary of War, was in command of the
First Battalion, and Captain Anderson Dana in charge of
the firing battery. A reconnaissance was made by
Lieutenant Camp and Lieutenant Thomas N. Brassel, of
Battery A, with Lieutenant Riveau of the French
Artillery. Corporal Andrew Ancelewitz laid the piece;
Sergeant Fred Wallace repeated the Com-manding Officer's
order to fire, and Private George Elsnick pulled the
lanyard, sending the first National Army shell whistling
across the Boche trenches. The piece was in position
close to the standing wheat at the edge of La Haie Barre
Woods, a mile and a half from the village of Neuf
Maisons.
OUR FIRST BOCHE PRISONER
COMPANY " K," 306th Infantry, claims the honor
of having taken, on August 17th, the first prisoner for
the 77th Division, in an account of the fight on the
Vesle by one of the unit's officers.
"About 10 o'clock one night," the officer says,
we heard alot of firingtotheleftofourposition near
Bazoches and up went a rocket signaling for a barrage. A
Boche patrol had attacked our flank and several of them
had crept down a spur and got in behind our platoon. Both
sides began to throw hand grenades and there was
considerable rifle fire.
"When the skirmish was over a Boche was found lying
in a shell hole nearby. He was disarmed at the point of
the bayonet and found to be wounded. It was the
division's first prisoner."
UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
RAP!-RAP!-RAP!" Major Holland Duell, of the 2d
Battalion, 306th F. A., knocked impatiently with his
riding-crop on the tarpaulin of the last of a line of
stalled fourgon- wagons. He was hauling one six-inch
howitzer of his battalion well forward, on a sniping
expedition. The gun must be in position one kilometer
behind the front line before the betraying daylight, and
he little liked being held up like this. The road forward
from La Harazee, in the Argonne, was dark, full of holes,
shelled and much-used. The ungainly big gun, its eight
horses tugging and straining, floundered and clanked
along, unwilling to go so far forward.
Again the resounding thwacks of the Major's riding-crop
smote the night's stillness. The wagon's curtain trembled
uncertainty, then parted, revealing a woolly black head
beneath a helmet askew, and a pair of glittering,
terrified eye-whites, set in a countenance of jet.
"Kamerad! Kamerad!" shouted the affrighted
apparition. "Ali surrenders, Boss, toot-sweet!
"
The darky wagoner thought he had crossed into the German
lines, and that his surrender was being demanded.
A NARROW ESCAPE
UTENANT JOHN SWEENEY, Company H, 306th Infantry, was in
command of two platoons acting as a covering party for
the attack on Bazoches, August 27, 1918. The day
following the attack, he received orders to change his
position, which was exposed on the rear and right flank.
He had just completed preparations for the operation when
the Boche laid down. a heavy barrage, forcing him and his
men to hug the railroad embankment, against which they
had dug-in. When the shelling ceased the party moved by
the left flank, taking the wounded with them. They looked
around in time to see their former position
well-illuminated by the light of a semicircle of liquid
fire, and flashes of machine guns, against which was
silhouetted the black figures of scores of enemy vainly
searching for the former occupants. They could not keep
from smiling at the thought of the Germans' surprise in
finding only empty shelters. Lieutenant Sweeney later was
killed-a few hours before the notification of his
promotion to captaincy arrived.
"ORDERS IS ORDERS"-PLUS
HE bore an important message. He crawled and snaked his
way through the dark, damp and tangled Argonne. Four
pairs of messengers had started out together from 2d
Battalion Headquarters, 307th Infantry, with orders for
four companies to attack in the morning.
Private Joseph Passafiume, runner, knew the contents of
the order. He might have to destroy it quickly. Snipers
had filtered through our lines everywhere, and he stood
in imminent danger of being surprised and made prisoner.
The lines cut in and out with the lay of the land, like
the teeth of a saw. Now and then a branch snapped, and
from out of the darkness a machine-gun sputtered at him.
His company had moved last night in the attack on the
Depot des Machines, as had all the companies. He wasn't
sure he could find it, but he "carried on" with
the messenger's instinct and sense of direction until he
reached the Company P. C.
"Orders is orders," said Passafiume to himself.
Clearly his work was done. He, thought of the
"plus." He remembered that all runners
previously sent out had reported that, owing to the
absolute blackness of the night, they had been unable to
find their companies. Runners incoming could not find
their way back. So Passafiume, after finding his company,
explored his way through the forest, around enemy
machine-gun nests, across streams and morasses to each of
the other companies of his battalion, and gave them the
message. It was as he had feared, the others had failed.
The attack was made as planned, due to the sagacity of
one man-the runner.
AN AIR BATTLE
0UTSIDE the town of La Besace, nose in the ground, lies
the wreckage of a Boche flying machine. Its canvas is
scorched and ripped to ribbons, and its framework is torn
and twisted, the story of a battle lost.
One hundred allied planes were traveling toward the
German lines, one afternoon in November, at a height of
about two thousand meters, heavy bombers, preceded,
flanked and followed by a protection of light pursuit
machines. Still higher up, so high that they appeared as
tiny black specks against the sky's arch, five Boche were
circling like vultures-observation planes, not daring to
dive down within reach of the "antis."
One of the allied rear guards, an American by his
marking, dropped behind-something went wrong temporarily,
and the convoy rapidly increased the space between it and
the laggard. One dare-devil Boche, from the eiry heights,
spiraled and spiraled until he was swooping over the
wings of his enemy, who had not seen him as yet, and
could not bear him because of the buzz of his own motor.
The Boche, nose down, rained machine-gun bullets into the
American, who speeded up his engine, raced away for half
a kilometer, curved swiftly about like a swallow on the
turn, on the tips of his wings, his machine almost
vertical, and met his adversary head-on before the latter
had recovered entirely from his dip. The remaining four
Boche kept well above the shrapnel bursting below them,
making no efforts to comedown. "Archies" and
machine guns on the ground ceased clattering, for the
machines were too close together now, and it was their
battle alone.
The moment of passing was the critical one, for two
planes racing toward one another at a mile a minute are
two mile s apart at the end of the next.
"Rat-tat-tat!" Both guns barked, both machines
rocked, and a collision seemed inevitable. Suddenly the
Boche motor groaned, then ceased bumming; the enemy
careened wildly, and went into flames, tank hit. The
Boche slithered and flapped toward earth. The American
tipped his nose into a cloud and disap-peared. Soldiers
pressing along the crowded road toward the retreating
German army, who had been spectators of this dramatic
incident, found pilot and gunner dead. Whether they had
met their fate in air, or in the final crash, no-one
knew.
SHELL'S ODD PERFORMANCE
BATTERY of 75's was in an open field near
Chery-Chartreuve, and in the afternoon the Boche threw
half a dozen heavy caliber shells into the position. An
officer went to the first piece to lay the guns for
parallel fire, and almost immediately the Boche started
fire by rapid volleys. One of the first shells landed
alongside the first piece, almost touching the right
wheel. Three cannoneers toppled on top of one another
into the gunpit, instantly killed. The others at the gun,
the lieutenant and two corporals, were seriously wounded.
The explosion lifted the gun bodily out of the pit and
turned it around fully thirty degrees. But the gun,
although much closer to the shell than the killed and
wounded, was not even scratched except for a tiny hole
through the leather sight-case.
BRIDGING THE VESLF,
THIS tribute to the 302d Engineers is taken from a
soldier's diary written at the time. No reference is made
to the continual shelling of the spot by the enemy
artillery that began an hour later and continued
throughout the next two days. The bridge was put up and
kept in repair in the face of this fire, permitting long
columns of artillery to cross the Vesle.
"When I crossed the Vesle the morning after the
Boche had pulled out I saw several platoons of our
engineers toiling as I have never seen men toil before.
Along the roadside reliefs of exhausted men lay sound
asleep in the bright sunlight. Three or four squads were
making a road through the marshy lowland to the
uncompleted bridge being constructed. Other sweating men
struggled with big wooden girders and putting them in
place. A small gang were pulling apart a truck that had
been destroyed by a shell and left where it was. On
either side of the river were the dead, German and.
American."
QUESTIONING A PRISONER
Verpel, where Division Headquarters had halted
momentarily in its rush to keep up with-its advancing
troops, in an old, half-destroyed stable, the temporary
prisoners of war cage, were huddled a dozen Boche
prisoners waiting their turn to be questioned like
culprits awaiting trial.
Most of them were asleep in a sodden, muddy heap. To them
the war was over and nothing more mattered. A few stared
about them, dazed at the strangeness of the situation.
Two unter--offiziers, obviously the superiors, lounged
about.
One youngster, the last brought in, stood stiffened at
attention. He said not a word and appeared as if frozen
with eyes wide open. He had not the gaunt expression nor
the seasoned appearance of his companions. His clumsy
boots and big, loose coat seemed not to suit one so
young. His German trench cap gave him the appearance of a
baker's apprentice.
Shortly his turn came. His response to the preliminary
routine questions was in gulped monosyllables. Beyond
these he became silent and although his lips moved they
gave forth no sound. The officer, questioning with great
patience, tried to draw out by friendliness anything the
man may have known. Finally the youngster asked,
"When are you going to kill me?"
His officer had told him that when the Americans captured
less than ten prisoners they killed them after they
learned what was wanted. The boy was captured alone.
GENERAL PULLS CAR FROM MUD
IT was on a road near the front lines where our transport
was held up waiting for the column to move on that a big
limousine attempted to pass, making a detour to an
adjoining field," says an infantry sergeant-major.
"There the automobile sunk deep in the mud.
"An officer hopped out and called for a detail from
the waiting transport. No one paid much attention to the
officer remaining in the car, but knee-deep in the mud
the men tugged, strained and pushed, while the big
automobile seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the
muck. The rear wheels spun around, but the car did not
move an inch.
"Then out jumped the man in the car. 'Come on, boys,
let her go,' he cried, and taking bold of the rear fender
pulled along just like any other man in the detail, and
incidentally got just as muddy. The wheels began to take
hold. Lurching like a clumsy turtle, the big car reached
terra-firma and with a 'Thank you, sergeant,'
Major-General Robert Alexander jumped into his car and
was off."
A THREEFOLD BALLOON ATTACK
T was the first day after the Boche had relinquished his
grip on the Vesle. He had retired,
but not beyond view of our observers. Along the Vesle
river, pushed well forward in an almost
cloudless sky, were our balloons. Off beyond the Aisne,
almost dots in a clear sky, could be discerned the German
Drachens, safely to the rear and up only at intervals
through the day.
All morning our planes had patrolled the sky, swooping
eastward and westward like swallows. High above,
squadrons of enemy reconnaissance planes buzzed around
inquisitively, in triangle battle formation. Below, the
creatures of earth labored northward, concerned not with
what was above them, but what was ahead.
About two o'clock in the afternoon, a long, streamer-like
cloud lazily shifted across the horizon. Suddenly from
out of it three small scout aeroplanes were seen to dash
in different directions. Outward and downward they
swooped like darts, each diving toward a balloon.
Simultaneously began the rattle of machine-gun fire.
About the planes appeared the answering bursts of our
anti-aircraft artillery. It was over in a second.
Although separated by a mile's distance, two of the big
gas-bags burst into flames and slowly dropped to earth.
The third balloon, either too quick or the aeroplane too
slow, was hauled down to safety, and its pursuer was
forced to beat a quick retreat. The culprit planes turned
tail and fled northward, our scout planes in close
pursuit.
All the observers jumped, and their parachutes floated
down to within our own lines.
ARTILLERY OFFICER BECOMES DOUGHBOY
CAPTAIN M. G. B. WHELPLEY, of the 305tb F. A., was sent
on the night of August 21 to Captain C. F. Harrington, or
the 308th Infantry, to confer on an artillery plan. When
he arrived there the enemy was placing an annihilating
barrage on the position, and fifteen minutes later an
attack followed. Captain Whelpley took three riflemen to
protect the infantry captain's left flank. Two Germans
whom they encountered were sent back prisoners in charge
of one of the men, and a third was wounded. Later,
Captain Whelpley ventured out again with seven men, and
was attacked by an enemy patrol of thirty men. Holding
their fire until the Germans came close, the Americans
killed seven and drove off the remainder. Later, two more
men, one apparently an officer, came running from the
east, over the same ground covered by the patrol. Captain
Whelpley held fire as before, until they approached very
close, when, in his own words, "We opened fire and
killed them both."
THE LOST TOWN OF BINARVILLE
WHETHER going in any one of the four directions about
that region in the Argonne Forest where the two great
forces had struggled for four years, the traveler is
bound to see a sign, "This way to Binarville."
Some credulous officers and men of the 77th Division
believed these signs, even believed their maps, which
showed in outline a town of prominence for that country.
One day an orderly riding through the country and being
of an inquisitive turn of mind. decided to find this
town. He rode down the main road until he reached a point
that he was sure he was beyond. Turning back, he slowly
retraced his route homeward. Like most inquisitive
orderlies he was persistent, and still looked at either
side of the road. Shortly he espied a dugout, a
counter-part of many dugouts thereabouts. Here and there
were scattered and broken rocks and a few moss-covered
timbers in no semblance of design or place. He approached
and saw a scrawled sign nailed to the entrance of the
dugout.
This is Binarville, " it read.
OUR OWN BOCHE BATTERY
IT is a misnomer to speak of one organization in the
Division as the trench mortar battery, for the men in
this unit never fired a shot from their awe-inspiring
Newton-Stokes.
Instead this unit spent most of its time in collecting
German shells of weird and ter-rifying markings and
sending them back to the Boche. It was in the "
Advance on Sedan " that this particular branch of
the artillery distinguished themselves. In the early
stages of the operation the trench mortar men found four
105 howitzers, and with the ease of veterans soon had
them tossing shells up and down the valley in front of
Champigneulle.
When the German lines wavered these monster guns were
timbered to trucks and taken forward. This operation was
repeated several times before the Meuse River was
reached.
TRANSPORT
BEHIND the man behind the gun is the man who backs him
up; the man who by night and sometimes by day brings up
the fuel for the man and fuel for the gun, ammunition and
supplies. Be the transport horsed or motorized, it
carries with. it the responsibility to get through. To
get through involves in the forward areas long hours of
eye-straining vigilance, of peering ahead in the
darkness, of maneuvering wagons or, still worse, great
Packard or Quad trucks through roads that would normally
be considered impassable; and the harassing of enemy
artillery. Often great skill is required to so maneuver a
truck under fire to save it from being hit. A driver must
know the traits of artillery fire and must quickly hedge
about or speed up as his judgment deems best.
There is no exhaustion so complete as that of long hours
spent along strange or blackened roads, many times under
the strain of twenty-four or more hours of continuous
travel, here stuck in a shell hole, there being followed
by a plane that suddenly swoops down to machine gun or
bomb the helpless convoy. They are combatants who cannot
retaliate. They are soldiers who work, not in the beat or
battle, but alone and unenthused. Their reward is not the
victory, but the satisfaction of work well done.
Below are a few examples of the spirit and determination
of these men. Big lumbering trucks, easily discerned
targets, are many times called to go where even
spider-like side-cars would be subject to fire. Wagons
and carts must continually ply this area.
On August 16th a Packard truck belonging to Company D,
302d Ammunition Train, operated by Wagoner Every, left
the dump loaded with infantry ammunition. Their
destination was the infantry reserve line at Mont St.
Martin. About a kilometer from their destination enemy
planes appeared. Flares and machine-gun bullets were the
visitor's contribution to the truck, after which the
enemy artillery laid down a raking fire on the road. Upon
arriving at Mont St. Martin, Wagoner Every found that of
his crew of four, Private Stanyzewski had been killed and
Private Clark severely wounded.
In the Argonne, truck No. 53 of Company C, 302d
Ammunition Train, was attached to the 3d Battalion of the
306th Field Artillery. Their first trip consumed
forty-eight hours running and standing time. They
unloaded and immediately attempted a second trip to the
2d Battalion of that regiment, at the time near Lancon.
In this attempt they passed through a barrage which
splintered the body of the truck and tore off the cover,
but did not harm the engine. During these days repairs
were a matter for the ingenuity of the mechanics, as
tools and spare parts were not obtainable. Quad hub caps
were made by threading 105 millimeter shell cases.
During the advance on Sedan the horse Section of the
Ammunition Train carried reserve ammunition for the
artillery in case of a swift and strong counterattack.
Company F's wagons, in charge of Ist Sergeant Frank,
spent eighteen hours in the sticky mud between Fontenoy
and The-norgues. The trip covered fifty kilometers, not
counting detours around mired motor vehicles along the
route. During this trip they were fired on by aircraft
with machine guns and bombed three times. In detouring
around the craters that had completely obliterated the
road at a point between La Basace and Raucourt, G Company
won the commendation of the division commander. On that
occasion eight horses hitched to each wagon had proved
insufficient, and every man in the company pulled in a
giant tug-of-war, which dragged the wagons through the
quagmire.
The Supply Train kept two companies continually on
special forward work, sometimes bringing up wire for
advance signal stations, materials for the engineers, and
other equipment. This was especially true in an advance
or anticipation of an advance, where everything must be
on hand at the jump-off.
Corporal Johnson and Private Beach, of Company D, 302d
Supply Train, with a sergeant of the engineers as guide,
was detailed to take pontoons and bridge material to the
Vesle at the point where it was contemplated to bridge
the river in the advance. An enemy plane sighted the
truck as it was going forward and swooped down to within
fifty yards, firing a steady machine-gun fusillade.
Friendly anti-aircraft machine guns on armored motor cars
opened fire and the plane was forced to beat a hasty
retreat. The truck went forward, through shell fire most
of the way, to the desig-nated place, a spot that the
Germans had been in possession of only a few hours
before. While the truck was being unloaded the enemy
sighted it and tried to destroy it, but by good fortune
succeeded only in tearing up the road on all sides,
making it almost impassable on the return trip. Going
back through Chery Chartreuve a shell struck a house
almost in front of the truck, demolishing the house and
showering the truck with debris.
WANTS SICK MAN TO DICTATE OWN FUNERAL SERMON
0F all the things that might happen to a man during the
war, capture by the enemy was the one thing I had never
considered in relation to myself," relates
Lieutenant Ginter, of the 308th Infantry, in telling of
his stay in Germany as a prisoner of war, which is as
humorous as it is full of thrills. "But there I
was," he says, "in the hands of the Boche and
was soon on my way through our own shell-fire toward the
German S. 0. S."
Lieutenant Ginter later was joined by three other
officers of the 77Lh Division who were taken prisoners.
They were Captain F. E. Adams of the 307th Infantry,
Lieutenant Frank Walther of the 306th Infantry and
Lieutenant Mowry of the 308th Infantry.
While the American prisoners were being transferred from
Rastatt prison to Villingen in the Blach Forest,
Lieutenant Mowry contracted pneumonia and died.
"His death brought about a typical sample of German
diplomacy," Lieutenant Ginter continues. "We
were all permitted to attend the funeral, which was
similar to that accorded a German officer. The minister
who conducted the services was an English-speaking German
and in his sermon he regretted the fact that he was not
personally acquainted with the deceased and could say
nothing regarding his past life.
"At the time one of our aviators was in the town
hospital with pneumonia and immediately after Lieutenant
Mowry's funeral the minister went straight to the
hospital and visited the sick aviator. He explained the
difficulties he had just experienced by not having any
facts regarding the life of Lieutenant Mowry.
'Therefore,' he said, 'I thought it best to come and see
you right away, while you were still conscious.' The
flyer disappointed the minister by recovering."
KITCHENS AHEAD OF FRONT LINE
WAR, with all its grimness, has amusing phases, and
probably the most humorous of these is related by the
mess sergeants of the 308th and 306th Infantry, who,
during an advance, are under the jurisdiction of the
regimental supply officers.
"Supply officers, as a rule, have the hardest job of
them all in and out of lines," one mess sergeant of
the 308th Infantry says, "because they are
responsible for the feeding of the troops up forward. On
one particular occasion I remember we were five
kilometers behind the front line and the supply officer
was planning a night move so that the doughboy could have
a hot breakfast.
"Well, we hiked all night behind our heavy rolling
kitchens and about six o'clock in the morning we pulled
into the town of Oche. After we had prepared breakfast
the first 'wave' of the advancing infantry swept by,
stopping long enough to get a hot cup of coffee. I have
heard of many funny incidents, but this is the first time
I have ever heard of capturing a town with
kitchens."
A similar account is told by sergeants of the 306th
Infantry. At one stage of the advance on Sedan the
overzealous supply company advanced the kitchens far in
advance of the point where the infantry troops were.
THE PRICE OF BARRAGES
A BARRAGE of no great density and of the shortest
reasonable duration, sixteen minutes, bringing into
action a regiment of twenty-four 75 mm. guns (3-inch),
costs in shells $10,070. The destruction of Bazoehes
required only 3,000 of the 155 mm. (6-inch) howitzer
shells, at a cost of $105,000.
The 152d Field Artillery Brigade fired in France,
including training, 250,000 75 mm. shells and 54,000 155
mm. howitzer shells. Figuring the cost of the first at
$15 each, and the latter at $35 each, the Brigade fired
$5,640,000 worth of shells. This does not include the
thousands of rounds of Boche ammunition fired back at
them from captured Boche guns.
THE CAPTURE OF RED CROSS No. 19874
HE GROWLED, an unmistakable canine growl, equally
understandable by American and Boche. It said, "Keep
away. I guard here." He guarded faithfully, and
while he guarded, the German High Command moved out, the
hard-pressed German troops retired, and the Americans
surged forward. He lay across the grave of a German
sergeant near the battered old Chateau Fere. It was here
that Sergeant Glass, the orderly to the Division
Commander, found him, lean and weak, and at enmity with
all the world but his master, who lay buried there.
Here was not only a souvenir, but a companion. As the
sergeant approached, the dog snarled, "Hands
off." He wore the German Red Cross harness, with a
flask on one side of the Deck, a first-aid kit on the
other.
The second day the dog growled and would let no one
approach. The third (lay the sergeant pushed some food
out on the end of a stick. The following morning the food
had been devoured, and be was able to touch the dog. That
evening he took him to the chateau and tied him up, but
the dog chewed the rope and returned to the grave. After
another trip and a double rope the faithful dog finally
became convinced of his new master's intentions. He
decided that the new sergeant was worth following.
The dog is now all American. To seethe sergeant is to see
his inseparable companion, "Fritz." When first
call sounds, if Sergeant Glass has not begun to roll on
his leggins be gets a determined tug at his leg. He has
not been late for reveille since " Fritz" began
taking care of him.
SURPRISE EFFECT
THE first ray of daylight on October 15th saw Lieutenant
Robert Andre, with sixty-seven pounds
of Hotchkiss tripod hanging over his shoulder and
thirty-two pounds of boxed ammunition
in his hands, crawling and worming his way along the
road-side ditch , toward the outskirts of
St. Juvin. Crawling in his wake was one Rodriguez, of
Spanish Main ancestry, snaking along
the gun and more ammunition. The two were looking for a
spot where "enfilade fire" could be
made and delivered. They found it in the rock -strewn
front yard of a ruined house, across the
interior of which, and through a rear window, ran a
perfect line of sight along the entire crest of
Hill 182 to the northeast. The ruins gave splendid
concealment to the position.
The Germans, hit from an unexpected quarter, were taken
completely by surprise. Rodriguez gave them point blank
all the enfilade fire that a Hotchkiss at full speed can
pour from its barrel. They dropped in rows-victims of a
very beautiful example of Yankee-made "Surprise
Effect."
Baffled in their efforts to locate the gun, the
succeeding lines of attack fell before it, the Germans
were demoralized, and our infantry shot down or captured
the survivors. This was the end of the counter-attack on
St. Juvin.