HISTORY
of
THE 306th Infantry
By
Julius Ochs Adler
1935
CAMP UPTON
IN the summer of 1917, out of a tangle of
scrub-oak and sturdy pine in the middle of Long Island,
Camp Upton was created.
The camp was one of sixteen cantonments constructed by
the War Department in different parts of the country to
train the civilians, who were to become a part of the
great National Army. Following our entry into the war on
April 6, 1917, the entire strength of the nation was,
mobilized to equip and prepare one of the largest armies
in history. The cantonments sprang up like mushrooms;
while in cities, towns and country, the youth of America
was being mustered for service overseas.
Camp Upton was literally carved out of the wilderness. It
was situated near a station on the Long Island Railroad
known by the euphonious name of Yaphank, some sixty miles
from New York and approximately midway between Patchogue
on the South Shore and Port Jefferson on the Sound.
Carpenters, woodsmen, laborers and contractors were its
creators; surveyors and engineers laid out the rude camp
streets; mules and tractors and trucks, rutted the sticky
earth into a morass of mud and debris. Almost a whole
forest was felled; gaunt stumps stuck up like sore
fingers out of the scarred ground. Saw and adze and
hammer, level and blueprint-and an army of
workmen-transformed the forest into a city of wooden
barracks, a "city" that was, to be the
birthplace of the 306th Infantry.
While Camp Upton, with its, barracks and its ditches and
its mud, was being hacked out of the landscape of Long
Island, the Regiment itself was conceived. All over New
York City the men who were to be the veterans of the
Vesle and the Meuse-Argonne were receiving those fateful
pink cards which meant that they had been picked in
accordance with the provisions of the Selective Draft Act
to shoulder arms for their country. East Side, West Side,
"all around the town," the pink cards came to
men in all walks of life. Not all of those who had
registered with their local boards were chosen for
immediate service; the cards were dispatched in batches
and the men who were to be welded at Camp Upton into the
division that was to take its place in the great National
Army were ordered to report in drafts.
To weld these men into military units, to prepare them as
fighting men and to lead them through the shell fire of
France, officers had to be selected and themselves
trained. Long before Camp Upton had begun to take shape
out of the scrub-oak thickets, that training had
commenced. In May, 1917, the young business men and
college graduates who were to become the officers of the
future 306th Infantry left New York City for the
Officers' Training Camp at Plattsburg Barracks, New York.
For three months, from dawn to dusk, from reveille to
taps, the future officers put in the hardest kind of
physical work. Close order drill, target practice,
tactical problems (largely based on our experience in the
Civil War), study of infantry drill regulations and army
regulations, and hikes with full army packs, all served
to turn out, on August 15, 1917, men who were not only
hardened by their experience, but enthusiastic about
taking up their duties with the National Army.
As the young men from the Third and Fourth Companies at
Plattsburg, who were to become the nucleus of the
officers of the 306th Infantry, were finishing their
training, Colonel George Vidmer, who was to be the
Regiment's beloved leader all through the war, was
immersed in a thousand details of paper work at the
half-finished Camp Upton. An officer who had transferred
from the cavalry because he had seen no work for horsemen
in France, Colonel Vidmer sparkled with energy and
enthusiasm. He could see the humorous side of things. He
was tolerant of mistakes until the same man made the same
mistake twice. He neither asked nor cared for means or
methods so long as problems were solved satisfactorily.
He could sit in judgment and use common-sense justice
without reference to the book of Military Law, Army
Regulations, or the I. D. R. His sole demand was that
those who served under him be above mediocrity in
whatever task they attempted. His aim was to command the
best regiment in the best brigade in the best division in
France, and he kept this high point of perfection as his
objective until the 306th Infantry had been organized and
drilled, trained and transported to France, and through
the days that saw the Regiment move across the valley of
the Vesle, to the Aisne, and through the tangled trees of
the Argonne Forest to, the Meuse. When the job was done
at last, if he did not quite attain all that he desired,
at least he was satisfied. And very proud. . . .
To Colonel Vidmer and the wilderness of the wooden
barracks, uncleared forest, mud-holes, stumps and lumber
-piles that was Camp Upton came the future officers of
the 306th in early September, 1917. The young officers
-majors, captains, first and second lieutenants-with the
new bars of their ranks shining brightly on their
shoulders, were herded together in Barrack J-I for a few
days, until they were ordered to report to Colonel Vidmer
at the "headquarters" of the 306th Infantry.
The Regiment was born !
But there was no time for self-congratulation. Within a
few days the first draft was due at the still-unfinished
camp; to mold this raw material into a regiment there
were the young officers from Plattsburg, a few seasoned
campaigners who knew the smell of smoke, a handful of old
army sergeants, and one or two former
"non-coms," elevated in the emergency. There
were assignments to be made, jobs to be learned,
thousands of details to be attended to. Colonel Vidmer
took his new officers on long hikes through the
surrounding country, hikes supposedly designed to keep
every one fit, but actually an opportunity for the
Colonel to size up his men.
"Keep your health and your sense of
humor," he advised them. "The rest will take
care of itself."
Uniforms, blankets, food, rifles, equipment, arrived in
advance of the draft and were sorted and checked.
Feverish preparations were made by new supply officers
and quartermasters, who worked far into the night.
Carpenters and laborers hammered and sawed night and day.
Chefs were sent down from the best New York hotels to
take charge of the cooking until the companies yet to be
formed could develop their own cooks.
On September 10, 1917, the first men arrived and were
detrained at the railroad crossing where the nearest road
led to camp. There the officers who had been detailed to
meet them formed the men in two ranks, and their lives as
soldiers had begun.. The first draft was composed of men
of every nationality and from every civilian occupation;
somehow, in the days to come, these men were to be welded
in the army's melting-pot into a great division which was
to gain more ground in France than any other American
division.
For the next week or two after the arrival of the men,
Camp Upton was in chaos.
The new arrivals were promptly assigned to companies, and
then the officers had their first taste of those
pestilential qualification cards, which, in many cases,
were worse than Greek puzzles. They did not completely
appreciate until later the real utility of those cards
and the value of this system, which Colonel Vidmer had
evolved. Then, when regiments all about them were being
inconvenienced by necessary transfers of specialists
between companies (to "equalize" the number
assigned to each company) the 306th comprehended the
wisdom and foresight of Colonel Vidmer's plan.
It was essentially a simple plan, but in its details
difficult to carry out. The Colonel and his Adjutant,
Captain Thacher, scrutinized the qualification cards of
each newly arrived batch of men, listed the men under
those civilian occupations which had parallels in
military life, and divided the men so qualified equally
between all companies, with the exception of the
Headquarters and Machine Gun Companies. Each company was
assigned an equal number of policemen, firemen,
superintendents, gang bosses, and all those who had had
control of men, and who probably had some of the
qualities from which to make non-commissioned officers.
The cooks, stenographers, typists, mechanics, etc., were
similarly assigned. Radio men, signalers, and line men
were assigned to Headquarters Company. Teamsters and
horsemen in general were divided between the Supply and
Machine Gun Companies.
The captains were called together and -given an outline
of the scheme. Draft boards must be broken up, Colonel
Vidmer said. The four platoons in a company and even the
squads in a platoon were to be utilized for this purpose.
All civilian associations were to be severed and a new
comradeship, based on the men's experiences in the
Regiment in peace and war, fostered, so that there might
be borne into civilian life after the war a greater
understanding of democracy. The scheme was hard to carry
out, in many instances, but the officers gave the idea
their loyal support, and now after the war is over they
have had ample time and opportunity to judge the wisdom
of the experiment.
Thus the drills soon became a question of personal
competition between men of different nationalities,
different educations and of varying social positions.
There, was the turmoil of fitting clothing and of finding
it would not fit -of keeping those damnable records which
at that time seemed so useless. Muster-rolls, morning
reports, ration returns, were all more complex than
calculus, and many a night was spent in trying to work
out the intricacies of all those column headings and how
to fill them in.
So much of the captains' time was occupied in innumerable
reports, returns, etc., which had to be made every few
days and which seemed to be every few minutes, that the
Colonel later in the fall made a trip to Washington and
laid before the War Department the need of an officer for
this purpose. In accordance with Colonel Vidmer's
recommendation such an assignment was approved, the
officer to be called the personnel adjutant.
Army Regulations gave the greatest worry, until at
Officers' Call one day the question of this
"blue-bound book" was brought up and there was
a feeling of relief when the Colonel announced:
"Gentlemen, there is no precedent
for this mobilization in our history. We are all men of
common sense and all I want you to do, is to use common
sense in the organization and training of your companies.
You may burn your Army Regulations, for I guarantee you
will have no use for them during this war. Anyway, Army
Regulations were written for those who have no common
sense."
Sorting each succeeding draft into companies was task
enough, and the prospect of drilling, arming and training
them to fight and then leading them into actual warfare
appeared to be an impossible undertaking.~ Everything was
in disorder. And the fates seemed determined to keep the
306th Infantry in that state. Men who were thought to be
present were discovered never to have reported. No sooner
had a man been issued a blanket, messkit, bed sack and
number than he lost the first three and forgot the last.
Uniforms were ordered to fit odd shapes and before they
arrived those odd shapes had been transferred elsewhere.
Many men could not speak English.
Some of them wore their best clothes, probably having
determined to make a good impression on their commanding
officers. Others wore their worst, wisely, for pinch-back
coats and patent-leather shoes did not receive any great
consideration when there were stumps to be pulled,
potatoes to be peeled or ditches to be dug, and it was
several days before uniforms were issued. The men swarmed
off the trains that rolled into the station at Yaphank in
a steady stream. Curiosity, anger, zest, distress,
bewilderment and arrogance were a few of the emotions
displayed by their remarks.
In some miraculous manner each draft was herded into
something vaguely resembling a column and marched to the
barracks. There the leader of the group presented the
receiving officer with a list alleged to contain the
names of those present and an armful of identification
papers. Neither ever was known to check. As an example,
it was a week before Captain Marshall discovered that
Gregory, who had faithfully reported present at every
formation of Company I, never had appeared in Camp Upton
at all, and that Gregowski, who had been marked absent
and the fact reported to his draft board, was laboring
under the impres-sion that they had Americanized his
name.
But then roll-call always caused more confusion than comprehension.
"Tomaso."
"Here."
"Tortoni."
"Here," from the same individual.
"Who are you, Tomaso or Tortoni?"
"No spigh Ingleesh." Already he had learned a
formula that would serve in any emergency.
When Captain Adler took command of H Company a few months
later he found a well-drilled organization, but an
irregular skyline which jarred on his sense of
proportion. He rearranged the company according to size
and at last had a line before him that sloped gracefully
from the six -footers on the right flank to the smaller
men on the left. But when he gave the command "Right
by squads!" he found confusion. Some of the men did
right face and some did left and some just stood still in
consternation. The captain was mystified.. He had seen
the same company going through the same movement only a
few moments before. Investigation proved that the company
had been arranged by nationalities and that when a
command was given in English each corporal hastily
translated it in the language of his particular squad.
Captain Adler immediately discarded his idea of symmetry
and rearranged the company as he had found it.
The language problem was one of the most perplexing at
first. Over four hundred men in the Regiment could not
speak English, and schools were hastily formed to teach
them their adopted tongue. Their progress was swift and
steady, but there were many exasperating moments before
they got past the one phrase, "No spigh
Ingleesh," which they discovered early in their
military careers excused them from unpleasant duties that
otherwise might have been thrust upon them.
One, of the captains, finding an especially muddy spot in
his company street during one of those early days of
organization, ordered Private P-, soldier by chance,
guitar player by preference, to get some ashes and spread
them over the slippery area. Private P- merely looked at
the captain and chanted the formula, "No spigh
Ingleesh."
"You-usted-savvy usted?" the captain started
again, calling on his limited knowledge of Spanish in the
emergency.
"Jh, si, sehor," the soldier said
intelligently.
"Get ashes!" the captain added hurriedly as
though he feared Private P- would lose the trend of the
conversation. But already the blank expression had
returned to Private P-'s face.
"No entiendo, sehor. No spigh Ingleesh.
",Ashes! ASHES I" the Captain exploded.
"My Go,d, man, can't you understand a simple little
word like ashes?"
Perhaps P- simply did not want to get any ashes, in the
first place. There were many times that the foreign- born
called on their old friend "No spigh Ingleesh"
when they did not want to stretch their imaginations-or
their legs. Captain Bull came as close to solving the
problem as any one. He posted a sign on the bulletin
board in G Company barracks that read, "If you can't
speak English you can't eat!"
It was surprising how quickly the foreigners in G
Com-pany learned the language.
The first days in camp were spent in a jumble of duties
that seemed only dimly connected with warfare. Stumps of
trees had to be cleared away before drills could start,
because there wasn't any place smooth enough to drill on.
D6bris left behind by carpenters in their haste to
complete the village that had sprung up between dawn and
dusk had to be carted off.
There were dust and mud and piles of lumber, charred
stumps of trees and miniature lakes; and there were dirt
roads-mockingly designated as "Fourth Avenue,"
"Fifth Avenue," "Eighth Street,"
"Ninth Street," and other such familiar
thoroughfares to the city-bred. There were rows on rows
of two-story wooden buildings; and in the distance,
looking down in dignified command from the high vantage
of "The Hill," Division Headquarters.
In dry weather clouds of dust swept from one end of camp
to the, other, spreading a layer of tan powder over
everything. In wet weather the streets became brown
blotches of mud and muck-holes, and water dripped
steadily on polished steel-that had to be repolishedl In
hot weather a blistering sun beat down on tired backs. In
cold weather the chill wind crept through the thin walls
of the hastily constructed barracks and poked shivering
soldiers with frosty fingers. Such was Camp Upton.
There was little sleep the first few nights in barracks. The novelty and
perhaps the realization that they were really in the army kept men
tossing on their bunks, wondering, wondering, . . . And there were new
friends. Long after taps the barracks buzzed with low murmurs of conversation, interrupted by peals of laughter. Somehow
things never seemed so funny as when the lights were out
and others wanted to sleep. . . .
The problem of organization was as vast and intricate as
a jig-saw puzzle with four thousand pieces. Just when it
looked as though a piece fitted here it was discovered
that it did not at all. When one section was completed,
another, just as difficult to solve, appeared. There were
troubles enough for every one in those days.
Uniforms alone caused sleepless nights and weird sights
that looked more like men in masquerade than soldiers.
There were long, lean men and short, stout men to be
equipped. There were long, lean uniforms and short, stout
uniforms to be issued. But never the right amount of both
and seldom enough of either. Then, too, shoes, hats and
leggins had to be fitted. It was not unusual to see
patent-leather shoes doing double-time, or
"soldiers" dressed in gayly checkered trousers,
issue leggins, and gray felt hats.
The urge to get back to the city was another problem of
those first difficult days. If passes were not granted
and "Slim" or "Bull" or
"Pedro" wanted to make a weekend visit to New
York they simply went. When regulations became more
strict they presented telegrams from friends saying that
mother was very low or that sister was getting married.
It was not long before the weight of an urgent telegram
was practically negligible in securing a pass.
The simplest movements of close order drills were
erratic, to say the, least. It was difficult enough to
get a company headed in any given direction. It was next
to impossible to change the course or bring them to a
halt within hailing distance of each other. And as some
individual always persisted in coming to halt a pace or
two behind the rest of the company, the voice of some
seasoned sergeant would come booming across the area:
"Say, you! General Pershing halts in three counts.
If you can do, it in two, go over and win the war I"
We had heard of the "fog of war" and we were
now beginning to appreciate what this meant, at least in
the early stages of preparation.
Uniforms, passes, conscientious objectors, the rudiments
of infantry drill regulations these were only a few of
the troubles that harassed those trying to organize four
thousand men into a single unit. And yet in the gloom of
discouragement there were some bright spots. There were
men who encouraged the Regiment by their unexpected
adaptability, enthusiasm, humor or talents and who helped
to smooth the rough spots in the road. There were men
like Eddie Seewald, whose esprit de corps caused him to turn down a
commission because he did not want to leave his pals in F Company; and
David Hochstein, who was on the threshold of fame as a violinist when he
heard the bugles beckoning and whose magic music thrilled the hearts of
many a homesick lad. There was Ben Gold, of D Company, later to become first sergeant, whose loyalty
and sense of humor never failed. There was Corporal
Carney, the proud possessor of a radiolite wrist-watch,
who thought it the wittiest thing in the world to be
awakened with inquiries as to the time at odd hours of
the night. There was Jimmy Flaherty, who became a hero of
F Company by riding twenty miles to Patchogue to have the
chef's false teeth repaired when the outfit was
threatened with starvation by the lord high ruler of the
kitchen. And there were many others, whose names were
legion, who did their parts manfully in creating the
spirit of the Regiment.
The evenings were occupied by talks and lectures, which
were interesting at first, but then became a bore. Later
on, when it was found that attendance was compulsory, it
is believed that most of these periods were used for
periods of well-earned rest.
The Division Staff now began to inspect
the Regiment. General J. Franklin Bell, the Division
Commander, that old veteran of so many campaigns, began
to walk about the regimental area and give words of
praise and admonition. When he went to France on his tour
of observation, his successor, General Evan M. Johnson,
followed his example; and ever present was that grand old
much-revered General Edmund C. Wittenmyer, our Brigade
Commander, whose quiet smile, kind words and
encouragement will ever be remembered and whose
snow-white hair was often seen later in the front lines
in France. Every one felt that with such a man in command
of our brigade, we would not only be well taken care of,
but well led.
Comrades of the 305th now began to be noticed; they were
brigaded with the 306th and were later to fight side by
side with our regiment. It was a pleasant and reassuring
sight to see the warm friendship which existed between
Colonel Vidmer and Colonel Smedberg. It was realized that
the two regiments would have to depend on each other in
vital moments on the battlefield, and it was very
heartening to know that there existed between the two
leaders a warm and lasting comradeship which had endured
now for over thirty years.
All this time the 306th was rounding into shape; officers
and men were studying and being studied and were gaining
that confidence and mutual respect in each other which
must exist between comrades in arms who are destined to
succeed.
Then came the day when the Regiment was
assembled in the large auditorium and the Colors were
blessed. First they were blessed by the Protestant
chaplain, then by the Jewish rabbi, and last by our own
Father Dunne, that modest, retiring little Catholic
priest who afterwards in France grew so close to the men
of the Regiment and whom they loved and admired.
And then more work. Work? Yes, they worked-the men of the
306th. Company by company was detailed to pull stumps and
fill in the ground so that there would be space enough to
drill. A system of trenches was dug, which was the only
complete system in the entire camp built to the
satisfaction of the foreign instructors. Bayonet dummies
were painted ~ la Kaiser; and a bombing circle was
outlined with a little wall in the center, at which rocks
were thrown under the supervision of the French
instructors. Then there were the rifle galleries, built
six feet apart in rear of the machine-gun barracks,
galleries which were continually used throughout the
winter, and in which stoves were placed to warm fingers
so that the bull's-eye could be hit. The 306th was going
to be a sharp-shooting outfit.
Because of the foresight of Colonel
Vidmer, all this work and training made company bonds
stronger than civilian ties, and company rivalry flared
like a flame. The officers sought competitive drills.
Weekly inspections became heated competitions. Pride of
personnel became a matter of argument.
"Say, we got the best bunch in the whole regiment
over in B Company."
"Whatta you mean, best bunchl"
But when it became a matter of the
"Three-Oh-Six" against some other regiment,
then company rivalries were forgotten and battalions
banded together in the bigger bond of the regiment.
That spirit first awakened, perhaps, when the matter of War Risk
Insurance was broached. The details were announced and the men were frankly uninterested. The
advantages to be gained were pointed out and there was
little response. It was emphasized that the cost would be
little and the return might be great; the result was a
feeble flutter. But when War Risk Insurance was made a
matter of regimental achievement there was a different
reaction. Other outfits were subscribing heavily. Would
the "Three-Oh-Six" lag behind? The Regiment
subscribed one hundred percent.
It was the same with the Liberty Loan Drive. Not only
because they thought Liberty Bonds were good investments,
but because they refused to be outdone in anything, did
the 306th Infantry subscribe nearly a hundred thousand
dollars more than any other regiment in the division.
Then there was the fight for the football championship.
It was as typical of the Regiment's esprit de corps as
anything that was accomplished in those days at Camp
Upton. Lieutenant "Mike" Hayes had coached a
team through an undefeated schedule, but the 302nd
Engineers had just as distinguished a record and,
besides, a bigger, heavier, stronger eleven. So when the
two met in the final game for the championship, the odds
were strongly against the "Three-Oh-Six."
For three quarters the Infantrymen fought off the assaults of the Engineers through sheer courage. And
when the last period started the score was o-o. But the
Engineers had the ball on the ten-yard line and it was
first down. A touchdown seemed inevitable, and a
touchdown meant defeat. Three times Engineers' giant
backs crashed into the line of men of the 306th. Three
times they were hurled back without gaining an inch. And
on the fourth down they were stopped with such definite
finality that the man with the ball fumbled and the
charge had been halted.
Defeat no longer threatened, but the
"Three-Oh-Six" wanted more than a tie. Victory
lay ninety yards away and only eight minutes, remained in
which to cover that distance. Yet the Regiment took up
the task with determination that would not be checked by
the apparent hopelessness of the situation. Ritter, the
big fullback, had been forced from the game with a badly
wrenched knee, but he begged for the chance to return for
the final drive. O'Hara, the little left halfback, was
battered and bruised, but he kept up the fight. Twice
during the ninety-yard march down the field Sergeant
Aden, the plucky quarterback, was knocked unconscious,
but each time he staggered to his feet to, carry on.
One by one the white lines slipped behind. Nearer and
nearer came the Engineers' goal as minutes ticked away
the march that couldn't be stopped. And finally big
Ritter, though in great pain, plunged over the last white
chalk-mark to a touchdown, to victory, and championship.
But that was only a beginning. The 3o6th Infantry
scampered off with the track and field championship in
the meet sponsored by the New York Athletic Club. That
was the only time they were ever known to run away from
any rival. They showed they could fight by winning the
divisional boxing championship. And when the sanitation
inspectors made their final rounds they found no
banana-peels in company streets, nor incinerators that
would not work, and once more the 3o6th Infantry carried
off the highest honors.
Too much credit cannot be given to the Regimental
Surgeon, Lieutenant R. M. Vose. He was the watchdog of sanitation. His
almost hourly visits to the kitchens and his constant advice and
warnings were just what were needed at this time. His value was soon
recognized by the Division Surgeon, and it was but three months after
the organization of the Regiment that he received his promotion to the
grade of Major, and much to the Regiment's gratification remained on duty as Regimental
Surgeon.
The memory of these triumphs and the prophecy of greater
triumphs to come were embodied in the regimental shield,
designed by that outstanding American sculptor, Captain
Robert Aitken, of the Machine Gun Company. It hung high
over Regimental Headquarters for one and all to see. It
depicted a corporal breaking his way through a
barbed-wire entanglement in the flare of a bursting
shell, His rifle was at the charge, his bayonet fixed.
And as he plunged forward he shouted his command to his
squad, "Follow me!" That command, translated
into French. "Suivez-moi !" served as a motto
to the Regiment, not only in those training days when
championships and prizes were the rewards, but later in
sterner contests when life and death hung in the balance.
"Follow me !"
The second increment of the draft was arriving. Veterans
of three months hung out of barrack windows like tenement
dwellers in the Bronx and watched them struggle through
the deep snows of December. More material for the
melting-pot. Shouts of recognition were flung to
for
mer friends. Shouts of derision greeted the grotesque and gawky. With
sheepish grins the rookies answered back. The lieutenant who had flunked
out of college found the professor who had graded his paper assigned to
his company. The clerk who had gone to training camp
returned his former boss's salute with satisfaction.
"You're in the army now-" Somersaults.
But life in the army was beginning to have its
attractions. Uniforms really fitted and were a badge of
distinction, commanding respect on Broadway or Fifth
Avenue. The lowest ranking buck private in O.D. was
something superior to the niftiest man in civies. Aged
bankers in limousines looked enviously at youngsters on
the sidewalks. Uncle Sam's nephews were welcomed where
before they had feared to tread.
And there were good times which all of us enjoyed....
Theater parties in the city, when whole companies at a
time were entertained by the managers of the leading
shows on Broadway. Visits of friends and families, who
braved the slush and snow to, see the soldiers at Camp
Upton. Dances in the barracks on Sunday afternoons for
those who could not get passes to the city-an officers'
dance at the Bilt-more-concerts by the regimental
band-solos, impromptu, by mouth-organists, guitar
players, banjoists-duets, quartets, choruses-regimental
entertainments in the Y.M.C.A. -company blowouts in the
barracks.
At Christmas there were passes for half the Regiment. At
New Year's there were passes for the rest. Those who had
come to camp a slack-shouldered, narrow-chested, somewhat
apprehensive crowd of civilians, went back to the city
again a swaggering, snappy, smartly clad, laughing
regiment of soldiers. They laughed at their experiences,
they minimized the hardships, they lauded their officers,
their company and their regiment. "Wait'll the 306th
goes over-" "We won't come back till it's over,
over there I"
But it looked as if the time for departure was, getting closer each day.
January found increased activity in camp and a more business-like
atmosphere. No Man's Land, parapets, zero hour, became everyday
expressions as the Regiment went through maneuvers. Enthusiasm and interest
increased as the work became more like the real thing.
Rifle practice on the newly constructed range, under the
direction of Lieutenant Colonel Garrison McCaskey, was
held in spite of the cold and wintry days. The Regiment
was developing its marksmanship which was to be so useful
in the days to come.
No one will ever forget the winter Of '17 and '18. Coal was hard to get
and had to be hauled by regimental transportation; the roads were
sheathed with ice and many a load which got stuck half the way to its
barracks was wheeled by hand by men of the company in order that there
might be some semblance of heat. There would come a snow followed
immediately by a thaw and a drop in temperature so great that the ground was a sheet of ice,
and the only way to carry on with drills and exercises
was to cover the regimental area with ashes from the
stoves and heaters. The cold was so intense that on many
a morning icicles hung from the showers. The real
training value of these difficulties was not appreciated
until later when there were other and more difficult
obstacles to overcome. The Regiment went through a hard
school in this training at Camp Upton and was prepared
for the worst.
The story of the training of the Regiment would be
in-complete without mention of the foreign instructors;
they were such a hard-working lot, especially if one
could judge by the time they gave the Regiment. . . .
There was Captain Browne, of the British Army, with his
able assistant, Sergeant Major Covington, who, it was
understood, had been an auctioneer in London. His voice
had had excel-lent training, and his constant commands,
"In I" "Out I" 4'On Guardt" and
"Carry On!" at least made the men move lively.
Poire, with his Chauchat automatics, which later on in
France were called "gas pipes," excited the
greatest admiration. Many a time members of the 306th
eyed his Croix de Guerre and wondered if such a
decoration would ever fall to them.
Then there were boxing lessons and jiu-jutsu, which were
felt to be fads for the moment, but all of which had
their part in building one up physically and in teaching
pugnacity and coordination.
Will one ever forget that subject of sanitation, which
was not only preached but practiced daily and hourly?
Those incineratorsl How those flies, which were such a
nuisance when the messes were first started, soon began
to disappear when the company commanders put their many
ideas and inventions into practice.
Dish-towels, cooks' fingernails, uncovered food, were all
subjects of not only daily lectures, but daily
punishments.
And those fifteen hurdles that were built out in the rear
area and which had to be jumped twice a day I They were
supposed to keep the legs supple and perhaps they
accomplished their purpose, but they also made every one
most proficient in a rapidly growing vocabulary of
"damns." Everything was new, but this newness
held a fascination which at this late date is hard to
describe. It was a new life and every day so, many new
problems had to be solved. Every one felt that they had
to be solved before the Regiment was declared proficient
enough to embark for France, the great objective.
Music was not neglected and the band, which proved to be
such a wonderful asset to the Regiment in France, rapidly
took shape. To it was added all of the field music, so
that soon stirring marches were heard, the music for
which had been received from overseas through a friend of
the Regiment. The Colonel had the foresight to add to the
band that group of entertainers who were to bring to the
men the necessary laughter in France.
The Regiment was taught to sing and one of the singing
instructors made several attempts to have the men join
him on their return from the drill field. "Pack up
your troubles in your old kit bag" met with a
half-heated response with most of the platoons. When the
recall sounded that was the end of drill, and singing was
another duty.
In all of this work the soul of the Regiment was born the
organization was completed and there was a very
noticeable and very marked attention to drill, and to
cleanliness and smartness of dress. Men were proud of
themselves and of the Regiment. Company commanders began
to visit other companies and find out how different
things were being done. The weekly inspections were a
matter of great moment and every one was willing to be
criticized constructively and to profit by the criticism.
Yes, a spirit of the Regiment was being fostered and was
growing daily. There must have been something in the
minds, of the higher-ups which made them believe that men
were made by overcoming obstacles, for obstacles there
were, not only of one kind, but of many. Scarcely had the
Regiment been organized before it was called upon to
transfer many hundreds of specialists to Camp Gordon, in
Georgia. Shortly after this several hundreds of motor
mechanics and drivers were transferred to France. In
addition, there was a constant weeding out of those who
proved unfit. Flat feet were something that had to be
guarded against, for it was known that the flat-footed
infantryman soon gave out on the march. There was a
weeding out also of officers, and these were transferred
to the depot battalion, where their particular bents
could be utilized. The Colonel was constantly drumming
into our ears that if we would but keep our health and
sense of humor, we should pull through, and that no
tension was so great that it could not be relieved by a
hearty laugh.
In February and March, 1918, Camp Upton was a changed
place and its inhabitants changed people. Regular hours,
hard work, and proper food were having their effects.
Uniforms fitted better. Shoulders were squarer, heads
held higher and there was a visible distinction between
chests and abdomens. Resentment had grown to, respect.
Fear had been replaced with determination. Curiosity had
mounted to enthusiasm. "Alla right, Boss," was
now "Very good, sir." Fewer and fewer were the
foreign words heard about the camp. More and more such
terms as, "chow," "K.P.,"
"louies," "non-coms," and
"hikes" crept into vocabularies. Claims for
exemption were withdrawn voluntarily. Pleas for passes
became more impassioned as the desire increased to show
off new uniforms, now complete to the last detail. Ragged
ranks of marching soldiers were now perfect lines that
moved along with precise rhythm: click-click-click.
Besides the simple knowledge of proper cadence they had
mastered the manual of arms, the intricacies of close
order formations, the mysteries of patrols, scouting,
advance, rear and flank guards and outpost work. Foreign
instructors, with French and British decorations-the envy
of all eyes- were teaching the men how to thrust a
bayonet forward or hurl a hand grenade to assure the best
results and no retaliation.
Some semblance of order had come out of seemingly
hopeless chaos and confusion. The 3o6th Infantry had been
transformed from an organization with an empty name to a
body of human beings.
On Washington's Birthday the Regiment was, ordered to New York to parade
as part of "New York's Own" -the Seventy-seventh Division. They had just
been outfitted with the new winter caps. The entire organization, with
General Evan M. Johnson, who had relieved General J. Franklin Bell in
command, paraded up Fifth Avenue during a snowstorm, with flags flying
and bands playing. It was a sight never to be forgotten. It brought the
reality of war very close to the hundreds of thousands of mothers,
sisters, wives and sweethearts who watched the officers and men parade.
There was a grim something about the fact that the men whom they had
seen go just a few short months before were now trained soldiers-ready
to take their part in the conflict going on across the seas. Their heads
covered by the winter caps were held high and their fixed bayonets
glistened in a never-to-be-forgotten sight. The band played "Stars and
Stripes Forever . The National Emblem March," and other stirring
tunes. Snow began to fall in great fleecy flakes as the
squads formed, and the men marched for miles under a
canopy of white, while a white blanket muffled their
tread and white flakes touched their shoulders lightly as
though in benediction.
From sidewalk to skyline the Avenue was banked with faces as the
repeating ranks passed in review. There were radiant faces, curious
faces, admiring faces, tear-stained faces, and smiling faces that hid
weeping hearts., Companies, battalions, regiments, swept by with
silent tread in a seemingly endless stream of phantom
figures. Heads up, eyes to the front, the snowflakes
falling steadily-there is no sight in all the pageant of
war like young men marching to battle. . . .
The crowd on Fifth Avenue dispersed slowly; but the
noise of cheering lasted a long time; and those who heard
it did not forget. Their hearts were filled with pride
-pride that their boys-their men-were part of the thing
that mattered so much.
The Regiment was on its way to war. In March rumors swept
the camp on the gusts of blustery winds. There was a new
tone in the atmosphere. Equipment of all kinds began to
arrive in great shipments, to be stamped and stenciled
with the name and number of the organization to which it
was allotted. Then the problem developed how to keep it
in the proper barracks when some other company was two
blankets short. Barracks were turned into warehouses and
were piled high with boxes bearing the Division's
in-signia-the Statue of Liberty-and the ominous letters
"AEF." "We're sailing on the
seventh-" Farewells
were said. "We're sailing on the tenth-"
Farewells were repeated. "We're not sailing at
all-"
Again all were put through a most strenuous physical
examination and again the unfit were weeded out. The poor
Artillery had to, suffer by remaining behind and
transferring their men to fill up the 306th vacancies.,
There was no time to thank them or to extend sympathy,
but later, when their side of the story was heard, it was
realized how much they had done. They were good sports,
and worthy comrades in France. How assuring was the
rumble of their seventy-fives!
And then one morning at four o'clock the companies were formed and the
command "Right by squads I" rang out in every company street. A march to
the railroad station revealed long lines of waiting trains, half
hidden in the dusk of winter dawn. Lines of men filing
into, the cars. Hours of puffing, snorting, and shifting.
Men pouring out of the trains and forming almost without
command into companies. Another march to the Cunard Line
docks. A ticket-the gangplank-the Statue of Liberty
fading from sight in the mist-
"We're going over, we're going over,
And we won't come back till it's over over therel"
There were many who sang that morning who looked no more
on the Lady with the Lamp.
In looking back over the period spent at Camp Upton,
veterans of the Regiment will always keep in their hearts
those men who helped to make the reputation of the 3o6th.
There was "Mike" Hayes, who trained the
football and basketball teams and who afterward lost his
life in the taking of St. Juvin. What a wonderful fellow
he was-so keen, so loyal, so hard-working and so
clean-minded. We all grew to admire him more and more and
to honor him in the depths of the heart.
There was "Jimmie" O'Neil, one of Columbia's
famous athletes, later to lose his life at Bazoches;
Gordon Gregory, a lad fresh from Princeton, who died in
the Argonne; gallant "Matt" Harkins; and a host
of others.
There was Hochstein, that wonderful master of the violin
who gave without stint that sweetest music from his
wonderful Strad. He also lost his life in the
Bois-de-Rappes after he had secured his commission as a
second lieutenant in the 5th Division.
All honor to those men who had not yet completed their
American citizenship and who still wanted to show their
earnest loyalty by joining America's ranks and fighting
for their new country. Later on, while at rest in the
Argonne Forest, some two hundred of these were sworn in
as full -fledged American citizens.
The Regiment was split into many parts on the voyage to
England. Regimental Headquarters, the Supply Com-pany,
Headquarters Company, the Machine Gun Company, and
Company E, left camp on Friday, April 12th, and embarked
at Boston on the 13th on the East India liner Karoa,
which later joined a large convoy at New York., It was
desperately cold; ice sheathed the deck of the ship and
the only heat obtainable was in the boiler room, where
one could always find as many men as the chief engineer
would allow. Company A embarked on the Lapland, at New
York on the 6th; Company B on the Victoria and Company C
on the Cretic, at New York on the same date. These three
ships arrived at Liverpool April 2oth. Companies D, F, G,
H, I, K, L and M embarked on April 16th on the Kashmir at
New York, and there joined the convoy of which the Karoa
formed a part.
The convoy was guarded by the Cruiser Philadelphia until
it arrived within three days of the Irish coast, when it
was picked up by a squadron of British destroyers. Boat
drill was held daily and lookouts were posted all over
the ship to warn of submarines. Two threats of submarine
attack occurred, and one was serious, for one of the
escorts limped into an Irish port with one of her
propellers gone and a small hole in her stern, while
months later it was learned that the British destroyers
had "gotten" an enemy "sub" in the
midst of the troop ships.
There was a gesture of secrecy at the time of departure.
But it was only a gesture. Every one knew the Seventy-
Seventh Division was on its way, and though every one was
ordered below decks, and portholes were closed and sealed
from possibly prying eyes, the windows of skyscrapers
that overlooked the harbor were black with crowded faces
and white with waving handkerchiefs on that misty morning
the 306th Infantry sailed away. Whistles, horns and bells
from ships anchored in the harbor rose in a din of adieu,
but there were no brave farewells, no cheering crowds, no
weeping women, no bands playing martial airs. The
business of going to war was done in a matter-of-fact
way. Yet underneath coarse O.D. blouses there were many
hearts that beat a loud tattoo of excitement; under the
cocky little overseas caps many heads that wondered,
vaguely, what the outcome would be.
That was the way with most of them. Wanting so much to
prove their courage, hoping that they could face fire
unflinching, but not knowing. Afraid of being afraid. Yet
those who know no fear, know not courage. Those who go on
in spite of the quakes and qualms that turn their
stomachs upside-down and make their feet feel leaden are
the real heroes.
The trip across was one of much discomfort, considerable
tension and numerous alarums. "Everybody below decks
I" "Always keep your life belts handy."
"Better wear 'em." "No, not that way.
You've got it on backwards." . . . Not allowed to
carry matches. Everybody turn in their matches. Got 'em in the
commissary, though. Lines waiting for mess.
Couldn't eat it when they got it. Fish, more fish. Still
more fish. Inspections. Abandon-ship drills. Wish we
could abandon ship. No place to go, though.
Companies, platoons, squads even, scattered fore and aft.
Hammocks to sleep in. No room to turn over. Deck harder,
but more comfortable. British sailors. Fresh bus-boys.
Seasickness. "Wish I was, back in ole Camp Upton.
Never appreciated what a nice bed I had." And food.
"Well, where the hell am I goin' to put my feet,
then I" "Aw, move over yourself. ., . ."
Such were the scattered impressions of
the cruise across the Atlantic on the S.S. Kashmir. It
was crowded, to say the least. Major Bulger was in charge
of an irritated, cursing, swearing, fighting, unhappy
outfit during the thirteen days it took the fleet of
thirteen ships to zigzag across the ocean while the
superstitious-minded suffered tortures. Only his sense of
humor kept him from jumping over the rail and joining the
fishes that swam optimistically along-side and were
better fed than the human cargo aboard. There were
complaints. There were pleas. There were demands. But
nothing could be done to relieve the cramped, crowded,
cursed situation. The main trouble was that there were no
diversions,. Colonel Vidmer had prescribed 'a series of
games and calisthenics to relieve the monotony of the
voyage, but there was scarcely room enough to take a deep
breath, much less fling arms and legs about in the
gyrations of setting-up exercises.
On the Karoa and the Cretic, where part of the Regiment
was quartered for the voyage, conditions were a little
less crowded but equally as uncomfortable. On the Karoa
there was no heat worth mentioning. Regimental
Headquarters, Headquarters Company, Supply Company, and a
couple of other units, shivered in time with the
throbbing of the engines, until the big boilers were
discovered, and after that the boiler-room proved the
most popular place on the ship. The Cretic had no, more
attractions and no fewer discomforts to offer than the
Kashmir or the Karoa, and the monotony was as intense one
place as the other. Days dragged by with nothing to do
but watch the destroyers diving through the indigo waves
in search of trouble, sailors wigwagging signals back and
forth from ship to ship, bored soldiers leaning over
rails seven or eight waves away. And the squadron of
destroyers steered on its crazy course. A straight line
may be the shortest distance between two points, but it
isn't always the safest, and, sometimes, when the fleet
veered from the northeast to due south in the process of
dodging possible submarines, there seemed some doubt as
to the ultimate destination.
"This is the first time the Kashmir has crossed the Atlantic."
"Yeah, I could tell she didn't know the way."
After one submarine scare, the result of which was
variously reported as having been the disabling of a
destroyer, the sinking of a submarine, and the complete
escape of both, the coast of Ireland was sighted, and on
the thirteenth day the 306th Infantry skidded down
slippery gangplanks and landed sea-weary legs at
Liverpool. England meant some-thing to look at besides
one wave after another in an interminable expanse of
water. . . . Strange clothes. Strange streets. Strange
signs. Strange little trains that resembled toys at Coney
Island more than means of transportation. Yet these same
trains proved the means of transporting the Regiment to
Folkestone, where baths-the first in two weeks-were
available and where the headquarters lingered. It was
there, in a hotel which once had been alive with gay
visitors to a popular summer resort, that David Hochstein
first played his magic music with the thunder of far-off
cannon as an accompaniment.
Who can forget the 1st Battalion going through London that day in
mid-April, and the welcome that was given them by hundreds and thousands
of women and girls, all dressed in black, who looked on silently from
their tenement windows as the trains rolled through. They knew
in their hearts that the British Commander-in-Chief, Sir
Douglas Haig, on April 11, 1918, had sent forward the
following message to all ranks of the British Army in
France and Flanders:
"There is no other course open to us but to fight it
out. Every position must be held to the last man: there
must be no retirement. With our backs to the wall and
believing in the justice of our cause, each one of us
must fight on to the end. The safety of our homes and the
freedom of mankind alike depend upon the conduct of each
one of us at this critical moment."
The women in black bore mute testimony to the suffering
our gallant brothers across the sea had gone through and
we could not help but feel uplifted that we were coming
to aid them in the great adventure.
The rest of the Regiment went on to Dover, where for two
days they watched the flares in the channel, heard the
distant echo of big guns and explored the unlighted city.
They learned the attitude of a people who had been at war
for four years and although the pitiful expressions were
at times depressing, the faith and hope those same people
had in the coming of the Americans were inspiring.
" We have shown a brave face here at
home," said a British major, "but they knew we
couldn't have carried on much longer unless you Americans
had come over. Now we can get back what we have lost-and
more."
Three days after landing in England the Regiment was
hurried across the channel to Calais, and at last landed
in France. Those postcards, written so optimistically
before leaving the United States, and saying definitely,
"Have arrived safely overseas," were mailed,
after all. Lieutenant Colonel Garrison McCaskey, a member
of the advance party sent over by the Division, stood
waiting to welcome the Regiment as it arrived at Calais.
There was no time at first to go
sightseeing in Calais, for the Regiment was sent almost
immediately to what had been humorously designated a rest
camp. It was on the march that the gruesome realities of
war were brought nearer when a train of ambulances rolled
by, bearing wounded for England. Tired eyes peered from
the drivers' seats, which were occupied by
"Wacs," volunteers of the Women's Auxiliary
Corps; tired eyes peered from the ambulances. Greetings
were exchanged, awed greetings from the Americans, hearty
greetings from the wounded allies. A cigarette passed
hands. A salute-with the left hand from necessity. A
British Tommy, with both arms gone and blanket sagging
suggestively where one leg should have bulged, laughed at
his own joke. They were going home. What did anything
else matter . . . .