HISTORY
OF THE 305th FIELD ARTILLERY
by
Charles Wadsworth Camp
1919
"A
MEMORABLE FORTY-EIGHT HOURS"
By PRIVATE JOHN R. EGERTON
THE date of September 5th, 1918, and the name of St.
Martin brings very vivid memories to my mind, for it was
on that date and from the village of St. Martin that I
saw the beginning of the first complete advance of the
Seventy-Seventh Division on the so-called Fismes Front.
Together with
three other men, I had been stationed for three weeks in
the village of St. Martin doing observation work for the
First Battalion of the 305th Field Artillery. These weeks
had been strenuous ones for us, as during that time the
Germans seemed possessed with the idea that a portion of
our army was located in this village, and so shelled it
continuously.
Had you walked through the deserted streets to the end of
the village, and then through an entrance in a stone wall
surrounding what had once been a well kept garden, you
would have seen through the grey mists of the morning,
two figures huddled closely together in the farthest
corner of the wall, one with his eyes peering anxiously
over the top of the wall and the other standing by with
his telephone in readiness. You might have thought that
nothing could be seen by these men, but you would have
been mistaken, for from this point our entire sector was
under observation, and record of every flare and rocket
was immediately transmitted by phone to headquarters some
distance away.
As day began to dawn these men, realizing their night's
vigil was over, and finding, as was most always the case
in the early morning that visibility was poor because of
the mist in the valley, rushed to the centre of the
garden and rapidly descended a flight of stone steps
which led to an old wine cellar. At this point I was
somewhat rudely awakened (for we could sleep even with
shells bursting around us) and hearing the familiar
words, "Hurry up, men, we must have breakfast before
the haze lifts in the valley and we can observe the enemy
again," I arose, and prepared for our meal.
Up came our floor, a much walked on board which, when
placed on two chippendale chairs, formed our table. This
was then covered with linen of newspaper quality, and a
can filled with white phlox from the garden above us
formed the center decoration. A brass candlestick at
either end of the table furnished just enough light to
enable us to eat and yet hide our bearded and unclean
faces. An assortment of china of the mess kit variety
completed the scene. This began our day.
From that time on, it was a busy day. It seemed as if all
Hell had been let loose, for the Runs were shelling not
only St. Martin but every point around us, and we were
not only getting the shells that were intended for us but
also those that fell short of their targets. Our
telephone line was broken by shells more than a dozen
times that day, and we were forced to repair same both
under fire and aeroplane observation.
Our greatest troubles were always during the three or
four hours after dusk, as it was at that time that our
supply trains went down to the trenches, and our
observation post, located as it was at the very
intersection of the two most traveled roads, received the
full benefit of the fire that a cross road always
attracts. We had educated ourselves not to mind the six
inch shells and so called "minnewefers, " but
the "Whizz bangs" were always a constant terror
to us, for hardly would we hear the report of the gun
before the shell would be upon us, and many times we bad
miraculous escapes from their bursts.
As night drew near on the 4th day of September, the
shelling became more furious than ever, and we were
forced many times to seek for the period of a few seconds
a more substantial shelter than the crumbly rock wall
behind which we usually stood. It was a remarkably clear
night and we could see many miles of the battle front. Up
until about nine o'clock we had been listening to the
music of German shells, but not long after that time our
batteries began to fire a seemingly continuous barrage.
Towards midnight the enemy firing became less vigorous,
and in fact almost ceased with the exception of a few
long range guns. We began to observe flares here and
there, and before long the sky was a vivid red. What did
it mean? Were the Huns retreating and burning their
supplies, or were our men touching Uncle Sam's matches to
their ammunition dumps? Both things were true, but our
batteries were the cause of the greater number of the
flares, and we could not help from doing a little silent
cheering at our posts.
The firing continued for the greater part of the night
but morning dawned upon a practically strange country,
for the firing had ceased on both sides, with the
exception of a few stray shots, and the silence was
almost appalling, coming as it did after the din of the
night before. For the first time since we had been at the
post, we viewed our out-look from the outside of the wall
and marveled that we could stand there without attracting
enemy fire.
Before noon the fields were swarming with our troops of
the reserve infantry, advancing to occupy the newly won
territory. What a difference a few hours had made. Only
the night before found men cautiously making their way
through the grass to the trenches, each with a serious
yet determined look on his face, while not twenty four
hours later more of their comrades were traversing the
same route in a care free manner.
We remained at our posts all day, but all we could
observe was line upon line of our men traveling onward.
The roads were getting more and more congested, and at
dusk as we stood at the gate we could see nothing but a
continued procession likened as it were to the Crusaders
of old, all pressing forward each man with but one
objective in view.
That night in our little French wine cellar, where we had
previously sat in the dark and listened to the bursting
shells above us, we were visited by the Commanding
Officer of our regiment, and heard these words "I
shall be at the Hotel de Fismes tonight " which, as
he sent them over the telephone, reminded us at that time
of Caesar's famous message "We came, we saw, we
conquered!"
Surely these forty-eight hours were memorable.
THE ACCOMPANYING GUN
By 1ST LT. JOHN R. MITCHELL
I HAVE hunted sparrows and frogs with an air rifle when a
youngster, and some larger game with a shot gun and
rifle, but for an all-around sporting proposition to
those interested I can recommend hunting Boche with a 75
MM. gun. You can have all the thrills of an ordinary
day's shooting. You get up very early in the morning. You
find that your careful arrangements for breakfast have
all miscarried. You tramp all day, sometimes getting a
shot and sometimes not. It usually rains. All your
superior officers, from the Generals down, cuss you out
for being where you are, and for not being where you are
not. I may say in passing that a General as a rule rarely
notices a battery, but a pirate gun and its hapless
commander are never overlooked. However, if you can
arrange things so as not to arrive at any one point at
the same moment as a Boche shell, it is a reasonably
happy and healthy life.
About eleven o'clock on the night of November 4th I was
awakened from a beautiful dream, that I had never been a
hero and joined the army, by the following conversation
on the telephone:
"Yes, we have Mitchell with us from E'
Battery."
"Yes, he is a 1st Lt."
" I think he will do, anyway, he is the only thing
we have in the way of a first lieutenant."
"Just a moment until I get a pencil."
"All ready, sir."
"One gun, a kilometer of wire, 9,00 rounds of
ammunition, a G. S. cart,"
"yes, sir."
"Yes, Sir. "
"Yes, Sir."
"To report to Col. Sheldon, 307th Infantry, at
Oches, at 5:15 A.m., November 5th."
"Very good, Sir."
That "very good" certainly did not apply to me,
for I was very comfortable, thank you, just where I was,
and at that moment my idea of a good time was not going
out on a pirate gun expedition. So when Capt. Ravenel
turned to me, with a smile that a man from the warm
depths of a bedding roll always gives to another man who
is to be routed out forthwith, and said, "I've a
little job for you," I just naturally cussed the
army and the Bosche.
We were on the road at 3:00 A. m., and reported as per
schedule. Upon arriving at Oches I was told to take up a
position to fire on some machine guns on the northern
outskirts of Oches. We hauled our guns up on top of a
hill behind the town, and prepared to make things
unpleasant for Mr. Bosche. Unfortunately, the machine
gunners departed with the night, and we duplicated the
action of the Duke of York.
Who had ten thousand men, He marched them up the hill And
marched them down again.
As the Bosche had very considerately blown up the, only
bridge out of Oches, I managed to get some food and rest
for my men and horses. At 1:00 o'clock the bridge was
finished and to our great satisfaction we were the first
wheeled vehicles over and after the Bosche. By night we
had caught up with our advanced infantry at Stonne.
The next morning the infantry beat us out. When an
infantryman gets up in the morning all he does is just
that and he is ready to move. Horses, unlike the infantry
have to be fed in accordance with G. 0., A. E. F., G. 0.,
Hq. 77th Div., and G. 0., 152d F. A. Brigade, which all
takes time, and then harnessed and hitched.
The next time I take out an accompanying gun I am going
to apply for a tank, for the road between La Besace and
Raucourt would have given an energetic tank a good
morning's exercise. The Germans had blown holes in the
road, completely destroying it, and making cross-country
riding and driving a necessary accomplishment.
The commander of the advanced battalion of the 307th
Infantry, which I was supporting, was a most elusive
person that morning. He had been reported to me to be in
several different places at the same time, which, though
that regiment was accomplishing the seemingly impossible,
I was loathe to believe. To settle the matter I rode
ahead, leaving my gun to follow. As I rode along the La
Besace -Raucourt Road I met several parties returning,
wounded, which indicated that I might do some work
shortly. Immediately south of Flaba I met General Price,
commanding the 154th Brigade, and Col. Sheldon, of the
307th Infantry. Word had just come back that our advance
was delayed by stubborn machine gun action from points
southwest and southeast of Raucourt.
In my precarious existence as a lieutenant I have had a
variety of jobs, but never before had I been called upon
to act as a Brigade Commander. True, my force consisted
of but one gun, but for this one engagement I represented
the artillery, and we had all the elements of a regular
battle. The general simulated the action of the aforesaid
machine guns by his questions of: "How long before
you can fire? " " How long do you want to fire?
" " How much do you want to fire?" Three
seconds is no proper time for much mental gymnastics, but
I had to beat the next question. We were to open fire at
1:45 P. m. on the point southwest of Raucourt for fifteen
minutes, then shift for fifteen minutes to the second
point, southeast of Raucourt. Immediately upon the
lifting of our fire the infantry were to advance.
All I had to do was to get back to my gun, put the gun in
position and lay it, compute the data, find an O.P. where
I could see and fire; and I had forty-five minutes to do
it in. I don't remember exactly how we did it, but we
did. It took a kilometer of wire and all my wind to
establish that O.P. Capt. Pike, of the 305th F. A., then
liaison officer with General Price, contributed very
great physical, mental and moral support. Our range was
three thousand meters, and therefore there was not a
chance to see the target from near the gun. My
"P-T" training failed me, for there never is a
convenient steeple or "the flagpole on Division
Hill" around when you want to use them. So on my way
back to the gun, I prayed for a goniometer, the alpha and
omega of modern artillery. We have all dreamed of some
nice kind old gentleman, casually presenting one with a
million dollars or some other little thing like that, or
of an inspecting officer saying something is good, but if
that ever happens to me it will be nothing compared to my
feelings when at the gun I found Lt. Hoar with a
goniometer out on an advanced reconnaissance for the
305th F. A. To be strictly correct, I saw that goniometer
and rather vaguely took in the lieutenant.
The miraculous continued, for our first shot dropped just
about where we wanted it. From the O.P. we could not see
the machine gunners, but we could see our infantry
waiting under cover of the crest behind which the machine
gunners were operating. With sweeping fire we walked
across the area indicated by the coordinates furnished,
and then decreased the range, to be sure of a bracket. At
the end of fifteen minutes the fire was shifted to the
second target, and the operation repeated. It was a great
moment when our fire shifted and we could see our
infantry go over the crest, apparently without
resistance. That is a satisfaction an artilleryman rarely
gets.
As to the direct effect of the fire I have had reports
varying from a direct hit to scaring the Bosche to death.
My own opinion is that the Bosche decided he was in a
rather unhealthy neighborhood and executed a typical
German "successful operation," worthy of his
high command.
My gun was in position immediately behind one of the
German mine craters on the road, and as he was shelling
quite heavily on our right, and now that the party was
over, I was tremendously interested in getting on and
away from behind that crater, for I guessed the Boche
would shell that part of the road as soon as he thought
wheeled material would be on it in the hope of catching
someone held up by the crater. As a matter of fact, I
guessed correctly, as he did drop a few there before we
left; fortunately, however, with no more effect than to
cut our telephone line and to cause us to do some prompt
ducking.
My total losses consisted of a pair of field glasses and
a raincoat. These I had left forward of the gun position,
and upon inquiring from some men near where I had been as
to whether they had seen them, they replied, "No,
but we have seen a General and a couple of Colonels
hereabouts." I never quite determined whether that
was an explanation, or merely a bit of information.
About five o'clock that afternoon we rolled into
Rau-court. There had been demonstrations when our
infantry came in just before us, but when those liberated
French civilians saw once more their beloved
"Soixante-quinze" their joy knew no bounds, and
we had a triumphal procession. We could not understand
their French, but we had a very good idea of their
intentions when we saw the plates of bread and jam they
had for us. The men decided that this was the place to
stay for life, but as the infantry had gone on our job
was to go on, too. So, after ten minutes' rest, we moved
on to Harraucourt, a rather unmilitary looking outfit, with jam inside
and out, but satisfied with the world.
At Harraucourt the bread and jam operation was repeated
with the addition of other food and bedsfor men and
horses. Our troubles were not yet over, for the G. S.
cart was pressed into service as the only wheeled vehicle
in the vicinity to haul a supply of captured German bread
to our front-line infantry. This took most of the night.
I shaved and washed that evening in somebody's kitchen,
surrounded by an admiring group of French civilians who
would burst out on an average of once a minute with a
rousing, " Vive la Americaine," whereupon I
would have to suspend operations and return in my best
American, "Vive la France." I have now the
greatest sympathy for a trick bear or a film star. That
night I slept in a Bosche colonel's bed. Altogether, it
was a fair day's sport.
The next day we went into position southeast of
Harraucourt, but had no chance to fire as rather
complicated orders came out which prevented our firing
where a Bosche might be. As about the only alternative
was to shoot up our own troops we lived as all good
people should in peace and happiness until the armistice.
GASSED CAVE AT LA PETITE LOGETTE NEAR
BLANZY
By COLONEL FRED CHARLES DOYLE
ON SEPT. 8, 1918, the regimental command post went
forward from Fismes after two days of incessant shelling
and occupied a large cave recently deserted by Germans.
The engineers and medical officers had worked diligently
all day neutralizing the air of the cave and taking all
possible steps to degas the cave. The cave was pronounced
safe for occupancy about 4.00 P. m. Col. Doyle arrived
about that time and inspected the cave, Things did not
look any too well and evidence of possible German
trickery existed. The cave was very massive and could
hold possibly 1000 men in ranks. Outlying galleries of
the cave were pronounced unsafe but ventilation and
boarding up of some of the galleries offset this
difficulty and apparently rendered the balance of the
cave safe. About 9:30 P. m. Col. Doyle instituted a check
of all his men (about 40) to ascertain if they were in
safe, ungassed parts of the cave. This check turned out
to be a remarkable safety precaution, as despite all
warnings many men had wandered into gassed galleries and
were even then gassed, some badly, others undetermined.
Many of the men gassed were blissfully asleep. About
11:30 P. m. leaking gas from buried gas shells rendered
the entire cave uninhabitable and all men were ordered
out. This was a severe measure as no protection against
bombing planes or shell fire existed. However, drastic
action was imperative. About this time many men began to
show the effects of the gas and were in great agony some
blinded. The entire medical staff (officers and men) had
been gassed and were unable to give any assistance. Col.
Doyle alone remained in the cave giving aid to a constant
stream of gassed men. This aid consisted of his locating
some potassium tablets left by the medical detachment and
making up an akaline solution from the water in his
canteen. Gauze from a first aid bandage dipped in the
solution served as an eye dropper. Many men were in the
greatest agony from their eyes. Many were blinded for the
time, only a candle existed for light and no assistance
whatsoever was at hand. Col. Doyle worked unaided over
the cases until 4:30 A.M., at the time he knew he was
being gassed as he had been continuously in the same
place where some of his patients had been rendered blind.
At 4:30 A.m. he felt he had endangered himself to a point
where it was wise to get out, but not until a medical
officer attached to the engineers had been requested and
arrived. This officer gave the men, still streaming in,
the same treatment but only for a few moments. During the
four hours one of the greatest problems consisted in
getting men out of the cave at once after treatment. Many
had to led in and led out.
During the day Col. Doyle's long exposure developed and
that night about 10:00 P.m. his condition was such as to
deprive him of any ability to see although he continued
to personally stay by the telephone, receive several
missions for fire and assigned such missions to his
battalions. About midnight he realized that his
effectiveness was practically terminated as he was in
great pain, and calling for assistance he was led away
for treatment and evacuation.
The Germans in this case had buried gas shells and
apparently using a corrosive acid the shell cases had
been eaten through. I suppose somewhat about 7:00 to 8:00
P.M. the gas had then leaked out, worked through the
covering over the buried gas shells and fouled the air of
the cave. A very nasty vivid impression of this incident
will remain for years in the minds of all. Some of the
men have not recovered as yet. Col. Doyle plainly felt
the effects for three months after. Capt. Mitchell and
Lt. Mots had been in the cave but a short time, possibly
3 hours and prior to 11:00 P.m., yet they were gassed and
evacuated to the hospital.