THIS
MAN'S WAR
by
Charles F. Minder
306th Machine Gun Battalion
Company B
OCTOBER
Tuesday, October 1, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
The rumor is that the Germans are licked, but by the way
they are bombarding us with their big shells, you
wouldn't think so. For the past week, we have been
getting them pretty heavy and it sure is demoralizing.
Some of the fellows get down on their knees now and pray.
The funny part is that the ones that are praying are the
fellows who were always so tough and foul-mouthed back in
Camp Upton. Since they have been in dangerous zones, with
the ever-present danger of being snuffed out at hand,
they have become very meek and pure in their speech. What
a change comes over a man when death is all around him!
It's remarkable!
There is one fellow in our platoon, his name is Hamilton,
who doesn't believe in God at all. When he sees the
fellows down on their knees, he ridicules them, and says,
"What the hell good is all that praying going to do
you? If your name is on one of those shells, you are
going to get it no matter how much you pray.
Don't you think that the men who have been killed already
in this war for the past four years prayed? Don't you
think their wives and mothers prayed for them? What the
hell good did it do them?" Of course, there is no
answer. He seems to be right. Do you think, Mother Dear,
that God knows what is going on down here? And does He
let it continue? I tried to reason it out and came to the
conclusion that He must know of it. He did give us a
commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." We should
obey it. I do not want to shoot to kill. I have sinned
and will be punished for it. I am being punished every
minute while they keep us up here in these trenches. It
is terrifying.
I went on guard again last night from ten to twelve, but
stayed awake by not getting in a comfortable position.
The shells kept whizzing by over my head and exploded off
in the distance. I laid down in the mud -hole we have
here, from twelve to four, but couldn't sleep. If ve only
had a dry place here, we might be able to get some sleep,
but it's impossible. As soon as we shovel out the mud, it
is wet again in a short time. It seems to be in the
ground from so much rain that we have been having lately.
The trench is so narrow that we get all cramped up.
Everybody stood to at their guns this morning until day
broke, There was a real artillery duel on this morning.
They were whistling by over our heads for an hour. For
every one that Jerry sent over to us our Artillery would
send about a dozen back. It's almost like a jungle at
this point. You can't see more than ten yards away. We
all keep as quiet as possible and listen. Plenty of
machine-gun bullets are whizzing past us and we have to
keep low. The Germans are pulling some of our stuff,
giving us a machine-gun barrage. If they had shortened
their range just a trifle, they would have! been dropping
right on top of us. We were lucky.
I didn't go back for food but had to go for ammunition.
We are shooting it faster than we can get it up. I sure
had a narrow escape this afternoon. I was told to take an
ammunition detail down this path about a hundred yards
until I came to a cemetery. A narrow-gauge railroad with
tracks about two feet wide runs thru the forest. It
curved right around the cemetery and led to the German
lines. A little flat car was on the track loaded with
boxes of ammunition. It had gone just a little too far
and the fellows who brought it up that far were both
wounded. The
Germans could see it and shot at them. I started off with
nineteen men, and when I got to the place, I fearlessly
walked right down to it. The men quickly followed me and
each grabbed two boxes and started back to the positions.
There were just forty-one boxes in all, and I had to take
the last three, two in one hand and one in the other.
Make- out it wasn't some load!
I was the last one and quickly walked up the small hill
where we turned to the right along the path. just as I
turned-PING!-a bullet whistled right past my breast about
an inch away. I was sick to the stomach. The fellow with
me was panic stricken and I said, "Quick, flop!
He'll think we're hit!" A quick glance over my right
shoulder and I saw the two Germans about fifty feet away
who had shot at us. They were walking in the direction of
the cemetery and I lost sight of them in the dense
underbrush. I was weary and crawled and dragged the three
boxes the rest of the way. Not a man was wounded. It was
just luck. The Germans evidently weren't watching at that
moment. The graveyard is supposed to be full of snipers.
Why they didn't take a shot at all of us is beyond me!
There are lots of German cemeteries in this forest where
they have been burying their dead for the past four
years. Six fellows in C Company were killed today by
shells. They are on our left. The whole battalion is
stretched out for about a mile all along this line, and
all the guns are in position for action. We just received
orders to get things ready. We move up tonight. They must
be crazy. As soon as it gets dark, you won't be able to
see a thing. You can't advance at night through a
pitch-black forest like this. Must close. CHARLES.
Wednesday, October 2, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
As soon as it became dark last night, we picked up our
equipment and started off in single file. It was some job
going thru this jungle. We would trip and fall almost
every step. We proceeded very slowly and made an awful
racket. The noise of the artillery drowned us out and we
were lucky. We marched for an hour and according to where
I thought the front line was, judging from where I saw
the two Germans yesterday that took a shot at me. We must
have walked back of the German front line. There must
have been a gap in their line and we marched right thru,
just like I used to be afraid they would do to us down on
the other front. There used to be a half-mile gap between
our gun positions.
There wasn't any opposition and we kept on going until we
came to these German huts and I wouldn't mind staying
here for the rest of the war. They are nice and
comfortable for cool days this time of the year. I went
on gas guard from two to four this morning and sat out on
the porch of this hut. The Germans certainly made a
pretty job out of it. It looks like a hunter's cabin made
out of logs. They have little gardens here in the summer
time and boardwalks thru the forest. They sure must be
sore to get put out of this nice forest. This is what I
call fighting the war in comfort and style.
The Germans must know we are in here, because they have
been making it pretty uncomfortable for us all day. The
shells have been dropping with an annoying regularity.
There must be about a hundred snipers up on the top of
the other hill. They have been shooting over this way all
day. The funny part is that we can't see them but they
can see us. They know this forest like a book, for
they've been in it long enough. The only thing we can do
is to keep out of sight.
I slept all morning in these comfortable bunks they built
and nobody disturbed me. The ammunition was very greasy
and clogged up our gun too much and, as there wasn't
anything to do, we took each bullet and wiped off the
grease carefully.
It didn't look like we would ever eat again. Nobody knew
if anyone had been sent back for food this morning or
not. If they had, it should have been up. So, at three
this afternoon, we decided to have some breakfast, our
first meal today, by eating some of the reserve rations.
We opened the cans of beans and ate them cold with some
bread. It tasted good because we were hungry. We have
only been eating one meal a day for the past three days.
Our kitchen is back too far. We have been advancing too
quickly. I doubt if they even know where we are. I
wouldn't be able to find the kitchen myself now, except
by walking south, using my compass as a guide.
Infantry men just came along, while I was writing, with
forty-three German prisoners, all old men and young kids.
They were an awful looking bunch. The Infantry fellows
asked us, "How the hell do you get out of this
jungle? We've been walking around all day, trying to get
these Heinies back. If we don't find Headquarters soon,
we'll have to kill them." He looked at them with a
brutal stare and they trembled. They were scared to
death. We told them to follow the path and keep walking
south. It will be dark soon and I doubt very much if they
make Headquarters tonight. There is no danger of the
Germans escaping. They are glad to be made prisoners.
They are tired of the war and don't look at all well fed.
We are all going to stand to now, for what I don't know.
The Germans can't come over in this dense underbrush.
So long, Mother Dear, I will write some more to morrow.
CHARLES.
Thursday, October 3, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
After it became dark last night, we took the gun up the
hill a little way, and the Lieutenant set the gun, and it
looked to me as if we were shooting right into the hill
on our left, about a quarter of a mile away. The Germans
are on that hill. We shot away for about an hour, only
shooting one clip every three minutes to conserve it as
much as possible, or we'll be running short.
We haven't heard from the kitchen all day and had to dig
into our reserve rations again, eating the salmon and the
corned-beef, which tasted just like chicken. Nobody
spurned the "goldfish and monkey meat," as they
call these two fools. Everything gets a nick-name.
I went on gas guard from eleven to one while the others
were sleeping. About twelve, while I was sitting there
dreaming of the past, suddenly a whistling sound crept
towards me, getting louder and louder, and then right
over my head and-BANG! It exploded further up the hill,
about fifty feet over to the left. It sounded like an
earthquake. It was the biggest shell that ever exploded
near me. The trees crashed, and rocks and dirt tumbled
down the side of the hill like an avalanche. It scared
the life out of me. Everybody woke up. I sat there for
the rest of my guard trembling, and wondering how much
that one shell must have cost, and what good did it do,
to slam the side of the hill that way.
The snipers in this vicinity must have telephoned back to
their artillery that we were in these huts, and they sent
over that shell to wipe us out. They sure came close. At
one, I was relieved and slept then until daybreak. The
sun came out for the first time in a week and it gave us
an opportunity to dry out things a bit. We overhauled the
gun and got some of the carbon out of it which had been
accumulating from shooting so much.
It was kind of
quiet all day, only the intermittent artillery and rifle
fire. The machine guns were barking away a good deal on
our left this afternoon. There were at least a half a
dozen German airplanes flying over us this morning,
evidently trying to take photographs. There were no
Allied planes in sight at all and the Germans did as they
pleased. They were too high up for us to take a shot at
them. Our airplane support on this front has been
terrible. We haven't seen much of them since we've been
here. If we can only see one occasionally, it braces us
up, otherwise, we feel as if we are fighting the war
alone.
The first platoon has been putting over a barrage for the
last hour. We have been giving them our ammunition as
theirs ran low. They are having a tough time down the
valley a little way. The snipers have been wounding our
fellows pretty badly. I hope I don't get wounded up here.
There is no chance of getting you out and back to an
ambulance. It's a wilderness here.
There is a stream down at the bottom of this hill. As
soon as it gets dark, we will go down and get our
canteens filled. We don't know if the water is clean or
not, you either drink it or die of thirst. It's some job
getting it, you have to keep on your hands and knees.
When I went down last night for water, some German
machine-gun bullets started whizzing past my head, and I
flopped quickly and hugged the earth until it passed
away, and then I continued on my way. I laugh now when I
think of it-when I got up off the ground last night after
dodging the German bullets, I smiled and stuck my fingers
up to my nose and stuck out my tongue towards the German
lines. It was pitch dark. They know that we go there for
water and they play a machine-gun fire up and down it
quite often.
I boiled a canteen cup full of water tonight over
splinters. It took half an hour and I put some of the
coffee-beans in my reserve rations into it. I haven't had
anything warm in my stomach for a long time and that cup
of coffee tonight braced me up.
My bones ache terribly and I have an awful cough. That
came from sleeping in the wet and muddy trench. We
certainly have had enough rain to flood all of France.
Whoever called it "Sunny France" must have been
kidding. It's getting on to stand-to, so will close and
write some more tomorrow. There was just a terrible
scream from down in the valley. Somebody must have been
hit pretty badly.
CHARLES.
Friday, October 4, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
Another night passed, and I had nothing to do but go on
gas guard from nine to eleven. I was relieved then and
slept until daybreak. It's pretty soft hanging around
like this in these German huts, but as the fellows say,
"It isn't going to end the war." I don't mind
staying here if they would only bring us something to
eat. We've been eating these canned goods that we were
lucky to have with us, or we would have been starved by
now.
The cooties have been bothering us something awful. They
are lucky, for they always have something warm to eat. We
take off our shirts and kill them by the thousands, and
an hour later we are full of them again. I don't know
where they come from so quickly. A mother cootie must lay
a million eggs at a time.: The fellows kid about them in
spite of being tortured. If one sees another holding his
shirt up, looking for cooties, he asks him, "What's
the latest news, buddy?" Of course, there is nothing
to do but laugh. We all have them, from the highest
General down to the lowest Private.
Our artillery
has been exceptionally active today and it did my heart
good to see the beautiful accuracy of,' our boys. The
shells were dropping right on the crest of the hill in
front of us. It started to rain this afternoon and it was
very dreary.
We had the same menu today, salmon and corned-beef. We
ate up all the bread we had, so had to eat our hardtack.
I made another cup of coffee for myself and that took the
chill out of me for a little while.
Two fellows from each squad are going to make a break for
the ammunition dump tonight when it gets dark, as we are
getting low. There is a rumor that we move up again
tonight some time. I wish they would let us stay here for
a while. So long, Mother dear! This will be some long
letter when you get it.
CHARLES.
Saturday, October 5, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
We didn't move out of this section last night after all,
but sure did have some excitement. We all had to go up
and help the Infantry on a raiding party. We couldn't see
a thing most of the time, and the only instructions we
had were to shoot at the general direction of a flash
every time we saw one. We shoot thru burlap, and that
covers the flash of our machine guns, and protects us, as
we do not draw any enemy fire. We went over to the left
about a hundred yards, and there were the Infantry
fellows waiting for us. We mounted our guns a little
higher up on the side of the hill and were told to shoot
over their heads whenever we saw a flash from the other
side of the valley. That was where the Germans were and
also on top of the hill.
The Infantry started off, and in about five minutes
little red flashes like fireflies could be seen all over
the place. They even seemed to come from the top of the
trees, as good as we could see in the pitch-black
darkness. Every time we saw a flash, we sent a few shots
over in that general direction. We were very busy
changing the position of the gun from one point to
another. In a half hour, it was all over, and we went
back to our huts.
During all the racket we only lost two of our men, Lang
and White were wounded. They received first aid treatment
and went back to the hospital some time during the night.
It was lucky they could walk. The fellow who took them
back said that they were lucky to make it. They were shot
at by snipers at least a dozen times. He stole a can of
syrup somewhere, and we ate that and the hardtack, and
some more bread we got from the other platoon. It sure
was very generous of them to give us a loaf of bread.
It's very scarce up here right now.
We didn't get a thing from the kitchen today and had to
eat the monkey meat some more, and we were warned to go
as easy as possible on it. It was the only meal I had
today and am almost starved. A cup of hot coffee this
afternoon braced me up for a while. I didn't sleep well
last night. It was so cold even here in the hut, I woke
up almost every half hour from freezing. My throat is
very hoarse and it sounds very funny to me when I talk.
There were dozens of aeroplanes flying over our heads
today, and I saw a real air battle, right up close over
my head. Make out it wasn't exciting! They were shooting
away at each other, making loop the loops. One would
spiral down for a thousand feet, and I thought sure he
was coming down to crash, then the other would swoop
down, shooting away with his machine gun. Finally, the
German straightened out his plane and he flew back to his
own lines. We were all so absorbed in watching the air
battle that we for-got all about taking a shot at the
German.
The artillery fire was very active all day, and the
shells were dropping all around us again, but somehow or
other, they are always fifty feet off to the left or to
the right. They always seem just a sixteenth of an inch
off, when they are setting the range on the shells they
send over to us. I hope they keep on missing us. It seems
a miracle to me. A dud crashed right thru the roof of the
hut that the third squad of the first platoon is in, over
on our left, and wrecked it. It went right down into the
earth and never exploded. Nobody was hurt but they were
terribly scared. Who wouldn't be? Had that shell ever
exploded it would have snuffed them all out in a second.
They would never have known what hit them.
Well, it looks like we are here for another night. I wish
we had our blankets with us. We are frozen. And make out
we're not hungry! I don't know what became of our kitchen
and the funny part is, they don't send anyone back for
rations. It looks as tho they are starving us purposely.
I asked the
Sergeant if I could go back and get some more bread, but
he said we would have to wait until we move up farther.
He seemed very worried about something, and I am
wondering what's up' Maybe they expect a big German
advance and all the men that can possibly be kept here
must stay. There aren't so many of us left. The company
is not up to full strength any more. It's almost dark and
we are all standing-to tonight. The German artillery has
been unusually active. It looks like they are trying to
blow away the side of this hill. So long, Mother Dear!
CHARLES.
Sunday, October 6, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
While we were standing-to last night, the Germans put
over a terrible barrage on us and, there was nothing to
do but take it. The hills reechoed each explosion, and
made it sound worse than it was. How they ever missed us
last night is beyond me.
The fellows of the other platoon told us that the
Infantry outfits were cut to pieces. There doesn't seem
to be any way to get them out. It's impossible to get an
ambulance into this jungle, and we haven't any stretchers
here, and haven't seen any medical fellows for a long
time. The wounded are lying out there groaning and
suffering and all they get is the first aid. They all
seem to be out in the open in little fox-holes, as they
call them. They haven't any deep trenches or shelter at
all. We are about the luckiest squad in the company to
get this hut, and I am sure grateful, now that I see what
the others are putting up with. I'm not going to complain
about the cold tonight.
I was on gas guard last night from ten to twelve and the
whole section here sounded like a shooting gallery. The
rifle shots were popping constantly. It's a queer sound
when they whistle thru the air. The sound like-PING! As
each one flew past me last night, it gave me a sickening
feeling to think how near I was to being hit each time.
I took the canteens and went down for water at mid-night,
crawling on my hands and knees most of the way. The
bullets were flying up and down it, as usual, but too
high to do any damage. It's the only time we can get
water, when it's dark. In the daytime, you would be like
a sieve in a few seconds if you went down for water.
It was raining intermittently all day, and the front was
kind of quiet, so Harris and I took a chance on taking
our gun apart and giving it a real cleaning, and it is
now in first-class shape.
No food came up, and we had to eat hardtack and monkey
meat, cold, for the three meals, and it sure is getting
on our nerves. We haven't had a meal from the kitchen for
a week, and we sure are lucky to have these reserve
rations with us or we would be starving. The fellows all
look pale and thin. I hardly recognize any of them from
the red-cheeked, fat fellows they used to be. It's
surprising how we have all changed, and I suppose I look
the same way, only I can't see myself.
There was a rumor today-- one of the fellows from the
other gun squad came over and told us-that our division
would be relieved soon, and that we will go back for the
'Winter, and not see the lines again until next spring.
By the way we have been hanging around here, it looks as
if the war will never end. It's getting dark, the
artillery opened up a few minutes ago, and it sounds like
hell let loose again. My love to Mousie and you.
CHARLES.
Monday, October 7, -1918
DEAR MOTHER,
Last night, about ten o'clock, just as we were settling
down for the night, we received orders to pick up our
equipment, and we started off and hiked parallel to the
front lines. There weren't any stars out, but the sky was
kind of light, and we saw fairly well. We didn't hike
very far and stopped and stretched out our machine guns
about twenty-five yards apart. It was fairly open right
in front of us, and we put over a barrage, all taking
turns at the gun, firing a clip a minute all night long
until day broke. The Lieutenant was there and checked up
every so often with the prismatic compass.
We are now in another one of those narrow trenches. It is
only about three feet deep and full of wet mud. A
narrow-gauge railway runs right past us here. We ate
nothing but hardtack and cold monkey meat again today.
There is nothing else and you either eat it or starve. I
feel rotten, coughing a great deal.
They asked for volunteers this afternoon to go back to
the Infantry dump and get rations for the platoon.
Somebody dumped a pile of it a short distance back during
the night. I couldn't stand this narrow trench any more
this afternoon. It was getting on my nerves and I went
back to the dump and carried back enough for the whole
platoon. We certainly had many close shaves on the way,
and I didn't care whether I got hit or not. It's funny,
but when you feel like that, nothing seems to hit you.
It's the fellow who is scared the most that gets hit
first.
Our artillery has been firing all day over our heads. We
can hear them going over and exploding off in the
distance. The German artillery is still laying them down
nicely in this valley. They have the range down fine.
An Infantry
runner came over late this afternoon. He looked like a
skeleton. He asked us the way back to Headquarters, and
we told him. He said they were shot to pieces, and that
the wounded were suffering terribly. We gave him
something to eat and then he kept on going. We are
getting our guns ready for another 'barrage. We are all
very sleepy, as we didn't get much sleep last night,
there was too much noise. So long, Mother Dear, I will
add on to this tomorrow.
CHARLES.
Tuesday, October 8, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
Sleep was impossible last night on account of the
activity of our artillery. They seemed to have moved
right up here in the front lines. I swear they aren't
more than a hundred yards behind us on the other slope of
this hill. They seemed to be shooting straight up in the
air and dropping down on top of the hill in front of us
where the Germans are. The German shells were dropping
right down into, the valley, practically all night, and
this place has turned out to be a regular Inferno. It's
awful, I wish we would get out of here.
The Infantry men were cut to pieces again last night, I
heard. Many were injured from the artillery fire. Our
wonderful luck seems to continue. We have many close
shaves, and it's a miracle that none of our men are hit.
We can't understand it at all. The fellows are all tired
out and pale as sheets, but none complain. They have a
wonderful spirit. My bones ache pretty badly and my
throat is sore from hoarseness.
Sergeant Montgomery kept us interested for a long time
this afternoon, telling us all about his duck farm back
home, and it sure brings back sweet memories.
The ration detail got back safely again. No one was hurt.
They left us some cans of tomatoes and salmon at the dump
last night. We ate the cold tomatoes out of the can and
it was a treat, because it was something different. It
has been kind of quiet for the last two hours. We heard
only an occasional shot. Sometimes, it was so quiet, that
it sounded as if the war was over, but then another
ash-can would come over with a loud bang, and we would
say, "No, the war is still going on."
It's now four-thirty, and it's getting pretty dark, and
starting to rain again. Of all places to be, out in the
open in a shallow trench, and it's starting to rain! It
looks like a tough night for us. I wish I was home.
CHARLES.
Wednesday, October 9, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
As soon as it became dark last night, we received orders
to gather up our equipment and we started off on a hike
again. It was raining and we were all soaked. The mud was
awful and we slipped and fell quite often. We finally
stopped at some German huts and the one that we were in
was light proof and we built a fire in the stove, which
the Germans so lovingly left for us. We thought sure
there was a stick of dynamite in it to blow us to pieces
but we didn't care. We were so wet and cold that we
started the fire just the same. Needless to say, we
weren't blown up, and sat around the stove until the
early hours of the morning, when we were so tired, that
we fell asleep on the floor. It was cold this morning
when we woke up.
The front was very quiet all night. When it rains there
is little activity. At nine this morning, without
anything to eat, we started marching some more. It was
very misty in the hills. We loaded all our equipment on
the little trucks on the German railroad. Each one was
drawn by a mule which they brought up during the night.
The Germans retreated, and we had to follow them again.
The men all walked in single file behind the trucks. Up
and down hills, and around them, we marched and marched,
until three this afternoon when we finally halted. The
Germans must have retreated about ten to fifteen miles at
least. Everything showed signs of a hasty departure. We
reached a fairly open spot in the forest and it sure was
good to get out of the jungle again. Our artillery was
sending shells over to Jerry all afternoon, but we heard
very little from him. We are now in a house which the
Germans were in the other night. There are a number of
such here, and the rumor is that we stay here until a
definite line is established. Nobody seems to know where
the front line is at all. We have been advancing too
fast.
We saw some pretty bad damage all along the hike today. I
saw at least two hundred dead bodies lying all over the
place, in every possible position. I saw one fellow, with
his head bandaged, down on his knees. He passed on while
kneeling. One fellow was completely blown to pieces, and
half of his body was hanging on a branch of a tree, one
arm on the ground, and his two legs about ten yards away.
It was the most ghastly sight I've ever seen. The smell
of the dead is terrible in the woods. I guess the burial
detail is on the job by now, it's some job to bury them.
What I wonder about is how they are ever going to find
the bodies, for the underbrush is so thick that it will
grow over the graves and completely hide them. The whole
ground is like honeycomb all thru this sector from the
shell-holes.
The sun came out for about an hour this afternoon and it
braced me up. Our kitchen must be about fifty miles
behind us now. We only ate once today, and we were glad
to get it, corned-beef, cold, and some more hardtack. I
sure will be glad when we get a good warm meal again. I
doubt if they will ever be able to drag our field kitchen
thru this jungle. The engineers will have to build a road
first. I'm grateful that we are going to get a good
night's rest tonight anyway. We are all dead tired. So
long, Mother Dear!
CHARLES.
DEAR MOTHER, Thursday, October 10, 1918
We were all up at five-thirty this morning after a good
sound sleep. We heated some water in our canteen cups and
made some coffee with the beans we had in our reserve
rations. It was a life-saver. We spent the morning
cleaning the ammunition and guns, a job we are beginning
to hate. At noon we had some corned-beef and hardtack
again. Our limbers and the mules came along shortly and
it sure was good to see them again. We loaded all our
equipment and started off. The company looked shot to
pieces, as so many of the fellows have been wounded and
sent back to the hospital, and the company now is just a
skeleton.
We marched for about three hours and passed through a
town called Lancon, which, a few hours ago, was still
occupied by the Germans. The Germans set fire to the
houses before they retreated, and they were still
smoldering.
We saw General Johnson on the way, he looked very bad,
not the same robust-looking man that he was back at Camp
Upton. I was surprised to see him so near to the front
lines. It isn't very often that you can see a General way
up front. They are usually away back in Headquarters
somewhere.
We pulled up at the edge of a forest, having marched over
some of the first open country in some time. The limbers
are near by, and the mules are unhitched, and it looks
like we are to stay here for the night. I hope not,
because it is very cold tonight. If they would let us go
back to the town of Lancon, we might be able to get into
some of the deserted houses. The fellows found out that
the Infantry kitchen is down the road, and we are going
down to see if we can get a warm meal. With much love,
CHARLES.
Friday, October, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
About a dozen of us sneaked down to the Infantry kitchen
last night for a warm meal, but we were disappointed,
they were cleaned out. I found a nice German blanket last
night, and Harris and I slept on a slicker and threw our
overcoats and the blanket over us, but we froze. The
blanket wasn't wool, but some kind of composition which
didn't keep in the heat at all. I guess a German threw it
away as useless when they retreated, and I bet he wished
that some American would freeze under it. His wish came
true.
We froze. Just the same, I am holding on to it, as it
might come in handy until we get our own blankets again.
We left them so far back that I doubt if we ever see them
again now, unless they bring them up to us.
At four-thirty this morning, everybody was awakened and,
soon after, we started on the chase again to find the
Germans. The Infantry men whom we saw coming back with
the wounded, said that they were still on the run. All we
can do is to follow until bullets stop us. There will be
no relief for us until a definite line is established.
I saw Colonel Widenmeyer on the road last night. The
roads are terribly congested. Most of the traffic is
going up to the line. The roads are wet and muddy and
reminds me of the pictures I used to see back home before
we got into the war. It's a great sight all right. I wish
I could sit back somewhere and make drawings of these
scenes.
We halted at two this afternoon and I made a half-canteen
cup of coffee. They gave us some more corned-beef and
hardtack. That was our breakfast. We sure were hungry. I
wish our kitchen would catch up with us. The Infantry
fellows have theirs with them.
It was very misty all day, until about three this
afternoon, when the sun came out and it was great.
It certainly does brace you up when the sun is shining.
While we were resting, a battery of artillery moved in,
and it was the first time I ever saw what trouble they
have. I guess every outfit is about as bad as the other
in this Army. I figured the Germans must be about two
miles away from where the artillery outfit was and I was
right because we marched but a short distance and halted.
We were spread out and the guns put in position. Carlie,
Harris, and I found some sheet-metal, and with four
stanchions and two long poles we made a good cover for us
in case it rains tonight. We just finished some more
monkey meat and hardtack and cold tomatoes. When the war
is over, I'll never look any corned-beef in the face
again. It's getting dark, so will close, Mother Dear.
CHARLIES.
Saturday, October 12, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
Today was Columbus Day, a holiday back home, but here in
France it doesn't mean a thing. It was a good day for us,
in many ways; first of all, they let us sleep this
morning until eight o'clock, and we all slept ourselves
out for once. I borrowed a razor this morning and cleaned
off my beard. I haven't any toilet articles with me at
all. My pack, at the moment, consists of the German
blanket. I am traveling very light.
The second good thing to happen this morning was that our
kitchen caught up with us. The fellows all gave three
cheers when they saw it. They gave us some hot rice and
coffee. We filled up on it. There was nothing to do all
morning and we just loafed and rested. At noon, we almost
fell over when they gave us steak and onions, potatoes
and coffee. With that good meal, the fellows forgot all
about the cold meals they have been getting for the past
several weeks.
It is just six months ago today that we left Camp Upton,
and it seems like six years, we have seen so much, and
have been thru so much in that time.
We were kept busy this afternoon getting water and wood
for the kitchen. We don't mind doing this at all. The
weather this morning was very dreary.
The sun came out for a little while only, and late this
afternoon it started to rain. I am glad we have these
pieces of sheet-metal over us, for that keeps the rain
off a little.
We received mail this afternoon, and how I braced up when
they had three letters for me! One was from you that you
wrote on September 15th. It was good to see your
handwriting again, and it made me feel homesick. Oh, if I
could only put into words how I feel about all this mess!
It seems so unnecessary. I feel more like a prisoner in
jail than a soldier. The suffering and torture that we go
thru is worse than you get in jail, I bet. We haven't
done anything to have this punishment thrust upon us. Oh,
I wish it would end soon!
The German artillery is in position again, and they are
sending them over to us again. The shells are dropping
near by, but not close enough to hit us. Our own
artillery is barking back at them and the noise makes me
jump. If I don't get away from this noise soon, I'm
afraid I'll ger shellshocked.
We had goulash, potatoes, and some cocoa tonight. It's
now five-fifteen and it is beginning to get dark. Harris
is getting the bunk ready and it looks like we will turn
in. There won't be any stand-to tonight. We are too far
back, I guess. If the kitchen is with us, you can rest
assured that the front is at least five miles away. So
long, Mother dear!
CHARLES.
DEAR MOTHER, Sunday, October 13, 1918
We just received orders to get ready to move up to the
front lines tonight and relieve Company A of the 305
Machine Gun Battalion. One of their runners is here now
and is going to lead us up to where they are. I haven't a
thing to pack, except to roll up
German blanket,
and a slicker, which I found, and better than I had. If a
fellow is missing anything, he can replace it very
easily, as the ground is covered with supplies which the
Infantry fellows either threw away or lost.
While I am waiting I thought I would write a little. We
slept until eight again this morning and had a good
breakfast of griddle cakes and coffee. It was cloudy all
day long. I don't think we have had a pleasant Sunday for
the last two months. Whoever started that bunk about
"Sunny France" was crazy. It rains almost every
day over here. I retreated to my shelter and read my mail
of yesterday over and over again.
I certainly had one of the most awful things happen to me
this morning. It makes me laugh now that it's all over,
but this morning it wasn't so funny. Wherever we camp, a
detail is always appointed to dig a ditch about a foot
deep and about six feet long. We put a pole over it, and
the fellows use it for a toilet, we call it the Latrine.
When the company leaves, the hole is always covered up
with dirt. This morning as I was going over there and was
just about ten feet from it, out of the quiet air came a
rushing sound, with a loud BANG, so suddenly I didn't
have time to flop on the ground. It landed directly in
the Latrine, which was almost full and- the stuff
splashed everywhere, covering me with filth from head to
foot. What a sight I was! It was luck that none of the
shell fragments hit me, to be wounded with all that filth
over me would have been awful. I went over to the brook
where the mules are tied up, and took everything off. It
was cold and I almost froze. It took me an hour to get
cleaned up, and, lucky for me, one of the fellows in the
transport had a uniform that was in one of the limbers.
It is a little too large for me but I am glad to have it,
because it is clean and has never been worn.
The shells have been dropping all around us and I'll be
glad to get out of here. They gave us steak and potatoes
and coffee again this noon. I guess they figured that we
would be going up tonight and it will probably have to
last us for a long time. Some fools spread a rumor this
morning that, after twelve o'clock today, there would be
no more firing. They seem to take a keen delight to see
how fast the false stories can circulate. The fellows are
so desperate that they believe anything you tell them.
The town of Lancon received a terrible shelling this
afternoon. It's only a short distance behind us. Smoke
from fires has been pouring out of every chimney in the
town for the past two days, and the Germans started to
shell it. Thru the trees in the forest we could see the
soldiers running for shelter. There was a sort of humor
in it, the way they were running this ------ It is no
laughing matter when you are right under it.
We get a newspaper occasionally called the Stars and
Stripes. It is published over here by our own soldiers
who have had newspaper experience. Some fellows do fall
in soft and get an easy job. I wasn't lucky. How I long
to get away from all this filth, dirt and mud!
It's good we
are moving out, because a detail from a French artillery
outfit has been up here about fifty feet over on our
right all afternoon, digging an emplacement. Their guns
are coming up now, and they are probably planning on
doing some shooting tonight.
We had
meat-balls, carrots, and onions, and I guess it's our
last hot meal for some time. It's getting dark and we are
going to move up soon, so will close. Love to you and
Mousie.
CHARLES.
Monday, October 14, 1918
DEAR MOTHER,
We sure have been thru hell today, and I hope we never
have another day like this one was. The German Artillery
have been sending over big shells to us, great big ones,
eight inches in diameter and when they explode, it sounds
like the end of the world. One of those big shells killed
four of our fellows this afternoon, Foster, Frengs,
Hamilton, and Poulides. They were all snuffed out by the
one shell.
Hamilton's head was severed from his body and when lying
on the ground looked very gruesome. Poulides, poor
fellow, was always talking recently about getting a
furlough and going over to England to visit some
relatives he had there. Frengs was an artillery man and
was sent to our outfit to bring it up to full strength.
Foster, poor fellow, was one of the nicest fellows you
would want to meet. He was a western boy, who came from
the 37th Division as a replacement. He was always sad,
because his people never wrote to him. I tried to cheer
him up the best I could, telling him that there must be
letters for him, but he hadn't received them on account
of having been transferred from one division to another.
Seven of our fellows were wounded pretty badly today
also, and sent back to the hospital. Our company is now
shot to pieces completely. There are very few left. My
friend, Leonard, was wounded today, one of the seven. The
others were Chorba, Dinola, Ken-nedy, Jordan, Johnson and
Gorman. It will take some time to train men and replace
them on the machine guns.
Last night, we marched up here. It took us three hours,
and we relieved company A of the 305th Machine Gun
Battalion, or what was left of them, for they had a tough
time, too. It was two in the morning when they went back.
We mounted our guns in position and Carlie and I took the
first shift from two a.m. to four. The front was very
interesting at that time of the morning, signal lights
were going up constantly, just like a Fourth of July
celebration. The shells were whizzing by over our heads
all night and exploding off in the distance. Harris and
Hendrickson relieved us at four, and we slept a little
until eight this morning, and I went on again until ten
o'clock. Two men are on all night, and one at a time,
during the day.
About eleven, an artillery duel started between the
Germans and ours. The noise was deafening. Many of the
shells dropped close to us, and the fragments were flying
over our heads. There was no place to go for shelter. We
just had to make ourselves as flat as possible and hug
the ground. It was awful! How we ever escaped being hit
was a miracle!
We read in the Stars and Stripes that the Kaiser is
withdrawing his army back to the border, as demanded by
President Wilson. No doubt in order not to carry back all
his ammunition, he let us have most of it today.
I had five hardtack biscuits this morning, and a little
corned-beef. I couldn't eat much of it. We haven't any
reserve rations with us this time, and it looks like we
will have to do a little fasting.
We left most of
our ammunition back at a dump in the forest, and this
afternoon five of us crawled back and each brought up two
boxes. The fellows who were on this morning put over a
barrage and used up a lot of it. The fellows are all
depressed about our casualties today.
As soon as it gets dark, some of us are going back to the
kitchen to bring up some food for the platoon, or we'll
starve. I am so tired and weak but must go. It means a
three-hour hike each way.
The shelling has started again, and it sounds terrible.
Everything is shaking from the concussion. It's getting
dark, so will say goodnight, Mother Dear, God bless you.
I will write some more tomorrow. I'd give everything in
the world to be home with you right now, Mother Dear. I
don't like the idea of going back for rations tonight
thru that hail of shells.
CHARLES.
There
were no further letters. The author was gassed
immediately after writing the foregoing letter and was
incapable of writing again