HISTORY
of
THE 306th Field Artillery
THE VESLE- AISNE CAMPAIGN
BY August first the
regiment was again in motion. One starlit night, with the
ever-present danger of air bombing, the regiment passed
over the Meurthe Bridge at Baccarat, and hiked over the
rolling hills of the surrounding countryside to the
entraining point,-Bayon. The route ran through country
villages that bore the grim marks of 1870 and
1914,-always it had been the Boche who was the invader.
Followed a few days rest in a wood near the village of
Loromontzey,-where on one occasion a regimental
entertainment was given f or the villagers only a short
distance from the fighting front.
Entrainment at Bayon was by night, on August 8th. The
first part of that journey was a mystery shrouded by dark
night, and sleepy rumors ran ram-pant through the slowly
rumbling boxcars. But day-light dispelled doubt,-the
regimental trains were running through one of the great
iron channels that fed the battlefields. Military trains,
Red Cross cars, supply trains, and munition-carrying
trains passed in both directions, sometimes to switch off
to the north. The sandbag-protected and cave-honeycombed
station at Bar-le-Duc showed it too plainly to be the
prey of Boche fliers by night. Then, as the train glided
through the Marne Valley it passed by mammoth railway
guns on sidings, huge hangars, and the squat barracks of
the French troops. On a flat-car of each train,
anti-aircraft machine guns tilted their sharp snouts
skyward-on the alert. The road led towards the
battlefields of the Marne and beyond, that was clear.
A little more than thirty-six hours of ride, and the
train was abandoned at St. Simeon. Then began that
memorable series of cold night hikes, and hot daylight
rests which rushed the regiment close on the heels of the
troops who had pushed the Boche from Chateau-Thierry to
the Vesle.
Passing through shattered though still magnificent
Chateau-Thierry and beyond, the roar of the heavy guns at
the Vesle echoed ever nearer and nearer, and on the road,
and in the fields and woods that slid mysteriously by at
night,-war and its specter began to be evident.
Unpleasant odors of the battlefield filled that noisome
area, and the rutted roads were full of ugly craters into
which the horses slipped and stumbled. By day one could
see that on both sides of the road the fields were strewn
with the mute evidence of the great struggles that had
taken place there,-broken rifles, bits of khaki cloth,
piles of ammunition, pack carriers, helmets, and even a
child's doll lay among the shell holes and the rough
wooden crosses, the latter the most eloquent testimony
of all to the price paid by the Yankees for
Chateau-Thierry. Those were tragic fields surrounding
Comport Woods.
The morning of August 14th saw the tents of the entire
regiment pitched in the Foret de Nesles, close to the
sounds of battle from the Vesle. With knowledge almost
uncanny, that night the Boche planes circled and buzzed
and hummed over those woods while the air was rent with
the crash-crash-crash of exploding bombs. But the men of
the regiment, fresh from the air raids of Lorraine, were
accustomed to this sort of terrorization by now. Attacks
from above were varied that night by the sounding of gas
alarms,-the whirring of hundreds of horns, and the
cymbal-like clinking of shell cases hung from trees. The
sound was born as a barely audible, tiny tinkle from
somewhere north, and swelled to an ever -increasing
roaring and ringing, until all the trees seemed to bellow
forth the danger. The alarms in every case were
discovered to have been relayed from the front line,-they
were false alarms, but they had the unpleasant result of
keeping awake a regiment of gas-ignorant artillerymen.
Later, a veteran sniff was enough warning for all.
The Vesle
The sector that awaited the 306th Field Artillery was one
of the most active artillery sectors of the latter days
of the war. It was at the Vesle that the Boche turned and
held his shattered line after the July-August counter
offensive. It was here, aided by the natural protection
of the snake-like, sluggish narrow and deep little
stream, and by the dominating heights to its north, that
he barked forth his defiance and spit his steel hail for
a few brief weeks. In the valley of Perles and Vauxcere
he concentrated his light artillery, and his more
ponderous pieces he hid in the draws near Barbonval. From
the southern banks of the Aisne he sent his long-distance
greetings. Such were our targets, some visible, some not,
Around the village of Chery-Chartreuve, with its record
of 1, 6oo incoming gas and high-explosive shells a day,
centered most of the regiment's activities on this
sector. To its north lay the Vesle and the front lines,
and to its south, west, and north the rolling wooded
hills and copses into which the howitzers were tucked.
Then, from the middle of August on, came busy days and
dreadful nights. The First Battalion moved into La
Tuilerie Ferme, and placed its pieces west of Chery. The
Second Battalion located in the much shelled village
itself, with the guns on both flanks of the village. At
La Pres Ferme, the Third Battalion installed itself, with
E and F Batteries further forward to the north of the
town, behind Hill 210, upon which some of the Observation
Posts were later established.
Day and night, except during occasional lulls, the air
whined, wailed, and whistled with the miscellany of shell
sent over by the Boche, and droned with the hum of his
airplanes. Men moved about furtively during duty and
while getting their meals, for the Boche was a wily
kitchen-destroyer. They lived in cellars and under
battered houses, and at the guns themselves, in hastily
improvised dugouts and funk-holes. Dig in! was the slogan
of the day. A little hole, about two feet deep and large
enough to hold a man prone, saved many a life at the
Vesle. Under these conditions the men of the 3o6th pulled
their guns into position, dug their gun-emplacement, dug
in, and established their horse echelons in the woods. By
day, the sun shone his hottest, and the cannoneers
sweated as they toiled at the guns, while millions of
flies swarmed over everything, alive and dead. The nights
were often damp, cold, and foggy.
New to war, for Lorraine proved a gentleman's battle for
the artillery, the regiment came to know by many
nicknames its fast friends of the opposition. There were
the much-hated "whizzbangs," whose explosions
shattered the air so close on the heels of the warning
wail that the two were almost simultaneous. German 77's,
88's, 105's, and 150's, rifle and howitzer, held revel on
almost every square inch of that ground at all hours.
"Jack Johnsons, " "Whimpering
Willies," "Tons of Coal," and "G. I.
Cans" were favorite names for the iron bouquets
whirled over from behind the Vesle.
The Regimental Post of Command was at first established
in Chartreuve Ferme, about a kilometer southwest of
Chery-Chartreuve, with the horse echelon in the woods
still farther south, and the rear echelon in Nesles Wood.
The old chateau had been left partly in ruins by the
fleeing Germans, who had blown up not only the main
building, but also a beautiful chapel, which had
contained a deep and safe vault that the Boche feared
would afford shelter to the Americans. American
artillery, also, fired heavily upon it during the drive
just over. There remained a complete library of French
classics and modern works, with a sprinkling of English
volumes, which for some unknown reasons the Boche had
neglected to destroy. To the rear of the library, the
flowers still bloomed in a garden that had once been laid
out with great care. It was no uncommon sight to see
Lieutenant-Colonel Smith or his men, during an odd hour,
walking apparently unconcernedly in that garden,
gathering the superb roses, dahlias, sweet peas, and
asters that grew there. Throughout the hell of gas and
explosives, those flowers continued to luxuriate, and to
furnish posies for the Colonel's mess. It was one of
these touches of sentiment and beauty,-sometimes found
amid the general ghastliness of war.
August 23d, the Regimental Post of Command was moved to
the woods near Dole, for it was found impracticable to
carry on the work of regimental direction with the
concert of explosives prevalent at the chateau, several
direct hits having been registered in its courtyard and
upon surrounding buildings. The Boche ceased shelling the
chateau soon after it was evacuated. This caused the
306th to sneak back into the old building one dark night
and to reopen business at the old stand. Shells fell less
frequently during this second occupation.
The enemy was plainly master of the air. The United States had not yet
set into operation the program that was to send majestic fleets of
planes in hundreds across the German lines, and the French and English
spared us what planes they could. The ominous hornet-like hum of the
wily Boche was continually over the Post Commands
and the pieces day and night. During sunny days he would
circle over the position, regardless of the heavy
anti-aircraft shrapnel of the " archies " or of
the rattling machine guns directed against him from
below. The radio details would shortly catch him sending
data to his guns. Then a bombardment would begin, and
still the daredevil Boche would hover above, directing
and correcting the shots from the very finest vantage
points possible. " Why don't we have more planes?
" was the impatient query of many men at this time.
Frequent was the blast of the shrill
"under-cover" whistle,-when every man stopped
in his tracks, and the pieces ceased fire until the
intruder had passed.
Almost every nook
behind Chery was under ceaseless observation from eight
Boche "drachen" or observation sausage balloons
that floated in a long, lazy line several kilometers
north of the Vesle. Wiring parties, 0. P. details, or
even one lone man crossing an exposed field, were
observed by these monster eyes of the German army, and
were fired upon with shrapnel and high explosive by
sniper guns.
The American balloons hung above the woods to the north
of Mareuil-en-Dole. A continuous game of hide-and-seek
was on between them and the German planes. On August
12th, German artillery fired upon them point-blank, and
punctured the gas-bag of one, sending the balloon up in
flames, and the observer down in a parachute. Enemy
'planes, bent on observation or destruction, often
attacked the balloons, as they did that same day, when
the Ger-mans seemed to have made up their minds to "
strafe " the air. Shortly before noon, the balloon
patrol of three 'planes about our balloon warned the
winchmen who controlled the whale-like monster that an
enemy flier was approaching. Before the winch could haul
the sausage down to a safer altitude, where our
"archies " could attend to the Boche, he was
circling high above it, dodging the high-explosive and
ma-chine-gun charges that were sent at him. Then he
maneuvered the most beautiful series of spiral dives, and
with a final dip, launched a phosphorus bomb at the
bulging bag, and set it aflame. Tilting his nose skyward,
he disappeared in a cloud.
Although the roads, woods, and points south of Chery,
including Dole and Mareuil-en-Dole, were regularly
shelled Chery-Chartreuve was chosen by the Boche as a
playground for his shells. Battery F had forty men badly
gassed on the night of the 2oth of August, and during the
nights of August 22d, 23d and 24th, the enemy bombardment
of the village was especially vigorous. During the day,
shells whistled into the village at a harassing fire
rate, but, beginning at dusk, volleys and salvos followed
each other in rapid succession. At times Chery became an
inferno of exploding shells, its streets alive with
flying bricks and mortar, and soaked with deadly gasses,
while the tumbling walls echoed and reechoed weirdly with
shell-shriekings. It was interesting to watch the
reaction of the men to the hell of Chery-Chartreuve. Some moved with an
excess of caution, some with the bravado of' carelessness, but all soon
became accustomed to it; walked, shaved, laughed, ate, read, and wrote
cheerful letters home for all the world as if the village were a
training camp in America. Day after day our batteries returned the
German fire two to one, manning the guns
despite the continuous counter-battery work of the Boche.
Two days after the gassing of Battery F, Battery A
received a touch of the same punishment. The night
following, the brave little church tower of Chery disappeared, shot away
by a Boche hit in the very center of the town. Another shot that night
wrecked the Second Battalion Headquarters kitchen, and gas shells close
following made all the food stores there unfit for consumption. Early
the next morning, during a
bombardment of the First Battalion Headquarters, shells
landed so thickly around the building, that two drivers
were killed in the road that led past it. The courtyard
of the Ferme was filled with stones and debris scattered
by exploding shells. Down in the telephone dugout, by
candlelight, the roll of the First Battalion was being
called, to insure that all of the men were safe. The
Battalion Headquarters was moved to a clump of woods
farther south.
During all of this activity, the Supply Company had the
task of keeping the battalions and the batteries supplied
with rations, with material for gun emplacements, and
with the odds and ends of ordnance. Never did one of the
units go without hot meals. In the dead black of night,
Supply Company's men drove their trucks from the supply
echelons to the dump in the woods where the ration carts
collected their daily portion. For these men there was no
hope of shelter from bombardment; doggedly, quietly, they
performed their dangerous work each night. They got
little glory and did much sweating. There was nothing
spectacular about it, only the springless truck bumping
over the holes in the road, while shells burst about, and
guns spat back from every copse.
But if the Boche was hammering from his side, the 306th
was administering a terrible drubbing in return. In
addition, the "Traveling Salesmen" of the Corps
Artillery, would move about from spot to spot on the
sector, giving away samples of their " iron cigars
" indiscriminately, and popping away from the most
unexpected corners. In fact, scarcely a bush or tree was
there that did not have poking from it, the steel muzzle
of some sort of gun.
Though the regiment was part of a divisional artillery
brigade, placed in position to support its own divisional
infantry, on more than one occasion the gun squads were
called upon to fire in aid of the French on the left. The
Tannerie, where machine-gun emplacements made it
uncomfortably hot for our infantry, was so completely
demolished by our guns that the accomplishment won for
the regiment the hearty commendation of the infantry
colonel whose regiment had been suffering.
The village of Bazoches, a few hundred meters within the
Boche lines,-a railroad and. supply center, was the
continual bone of contention between the opposing
infantries. On the night of August 27th, and the morning
of the 28th, an infantry movement on the village was
planned. The regiment participated in a terrific
box-barrage, which was placed about the town to cut off
escaping Germans. The Germans were successful, by
skillful placing of machine-gun nests, and by means of a
counter- barrage, in holding the northern part of the
village, so it was decided to blow them out of it with
artillery. Harassing fire had been thrown into the town
each day, but from August 30th to September 4th the
regiment delivered a bombardment which reduced the town
to powder, at an expenditure Of 3000 shells, a cost Of
$105,000 and gallons of sweat.
The Observation Posts, from which battery commanders
were able to obtain a panoramic view of the German
strongholds, were on the ridges to the north and west of
Chery-Chartreuve. The towns of Paars, Perles,
Haute-Maisons, Blanzy and Bazoches were visible or partly
visible from these vantage points, which in some cases
were constructed in trees, and in others, in funk-holes
roofed with corrugated iron. The Observation Posts were
continually shelled, and the entire ridge was swept with
zone fire at least twice a day, with intermittent fire at
other times. To sit in one of these Observation Posts
peeping at the inmost secrets of the Boche, was a
thrilling occupation. Before the observer spread the
vista of battle. Sometimes our shells bursting in towns
on the Boche's side would cause figures that appeared
like tiny specks to scramble hurriedly out of danger.
Again, a lone German would cross a field, and the
observer would duly record the place of his appearance
and disappearance, and wonder, between bites of cold
corned willie, and swallows of cold raw tomato, where
" that dutch-man could be going." An occasional
transport wagon would risk the road by day, but, as a
rule, the Boche kept discreetly under cover from sunup to
sundown. By night, the vision spread before the observer
became a grim sort of fairyland of lights and noises.
Behind, the big guns of the regiment boomed, coughed, and
bellowed, and drifting back from the infantry lines, the
sputter of machine-guns and rifles tingled on the ear.
Rainbow rockets sizzed up into the bestarred midsummer
sky, and hung there. Flares transformed the landscape for
miles about to midday. Again, a red-light barrage rocket
would call forth a still greater chorus of barks from the
artillery behind.
Under the unremitting hail of shells communication was
subject to constant interruption. The telephone formed
the main type of liaison but runners, mounted and foot,
were used to transmit firing orders from the Regimental
Post of Command to the Battalion and Battery
Headquarters, while the radio also played its part, more
especially with the planes that directed artillery
firing. Radio transmission was practical from the plane
to the ground, but in reversing the sender and receiver,
the only means of communication was by white linen panels
exposed in an open field, where the plane observer could
see it clearly. Panelmen, as they were called, worked in
dangerous positions at times. Battalion agents had many a
wild ride over the much-shelled roads, which by day were
empty but under vigilant observation, and by night were
as crowded with the traffic of ammunition trucks, supply
wagons, and ambulances as any busy city street. It was a
difficult matter to thread one's way through this tangle,
without lights -for to show even the gleam of a
cigarette-tip meant betrayal to the Boche above.
But most thrilling and dangerous of liaison jobs was that
of the telephone linemen. Within his telephone dugout,
which houses the switchboard and the operators, and is
usually the deepest and safest, he is well-protected
while off duty. But let the ominous call come from the
operator-" Blue line is out!" and your lineman
is up and out, with helmet and gas mask, telephone, wire,
tape, and pincers to look for the break. He must crawl
through ditches in the dead of the dark night; he must
feel along the wire where it is hitched to trees in the
pitchy-black woods-and, the break found, he must mend it
under gas and high-explosive fire. Most often the break
occurs where there is a continuous shelling. Repairing
lines in peace times is not a sinecure. Add to this work
exploding shells, darkness, the ever-present danger of
death, and you have the wartime telephone man.
The regiment's own linemen laid and kept in repair the
entire " artillery net" of wires. Its starting
point is the brigade, where it hooks into the main
arteries laid by the Signal Corps. From Regimental
Headquarters to Battalion Headquarters, and from there to
the batteries, with auxiliary lines to the Observation
Posts, the lines spread out fanlike. As many as six lines
were often laid between the same points by different
routes in order to insure constant communication. Hill
210, where several Observation Posts were located, was
pockmarked with shell-craters from base to crest,
necessitating the use of steel cables in places. Linemen
found it impossible to work on the hill by day without
being spotted by a Boche airplane observer, and by night
shells flew in such profusion that it was a heroic task
to accomplish anything there. La Pres Ferme, too, the
Third Battalion Headquarters, was a constant target, and
lines running there were bound to be "out" many
times.
THE ADVANCE
There came a day, September 2d, when the men in the
Observation Posts saw the Vesle-Aisne plateau clouded by
heavy smoke. Fires and explosions occurred at Paars,
Perles, Vauxcere, and Blanzy. The Boche, pounded out by our own
merciless fire, was laying waste as he prepared to retire. His planes,
more than usually inquisitive, peeped about back of our lines to see
what we were going to do. Fleeting glimpses were caught of transport
wagons and troops bound north for the fastnesses of the Aisne. September A fewer shells fell about Chery-Chartreuve,
and the following day that entire area, only a short time
before noisy with explosions, lay peaceful under the hot
summer sun. French cavalry passed by the pieces at a
trot, in pursuit.
September 5th and 6th, the regiment advanced. Camouflage
was taken down, guns were placed in the march order, and
wagons were packed. Never, except in the advances of the
Argonne, was there such a spirit of exultation and
satisfaction in the regiment as during that first
advance. Each man felt within himself that he had helped
to hammer out the Boche, and that at last he was to tread
that gruesome ground over which so much blood had been
shed in the past few weeks. Over the ridge and down into
the valley of the Vesle the pieces rumbled and clanked.
For a day or so, while the Boche ceased shelling the
river area, the engineers were able to get a good start
on the artillery bridges, but, placed in a new position
behind the Aisne, the Boche again sent over his shells,
especially at the bridges. The bodies of our doughboys
lay about as they had fallen on the field of honor, and
Boche lying near them testified that hand to hand
struggles had been fought. Burial details were engaged in
the grim task of interring American and Boche.
Bazoches was a ruin, utterly destroyed and un-fit for
habitation; building after building tumbled queerly upon
its foundations. One of the members of the regimental
reconnaissance detail, the morning of September 4th, in
an effort to find a table upon which to spread some maps,
was poking about the ruins of the old chateau in the
town, when, not twenty-five feet from him, a resounding
explosion threw dirt and stones high into air. The man
was unhurt, but two Frenchmen on the opposite side of the
battered walls were instantly killed. The Frenchmen had
evidently stumbled, either on a trap, or on a pile of
fused minnenwerfer ammunition that lay there. The men were warned to be
especially careful regarding mines and
traps, and all springs and wells were carefully
investigated by the Regiment's Medical Department, for
fear of poisoning. If the wells were unpoisoned by the
enemy, the seepage from d6bris, refuse, and bodies of men
and animals often found its way into them. It was here
that the regiment suffered severely from dysentery,
despite the precautions that were taken.
Regimental Headquarters remained in Bazoches one night,
was shelled severely, and moved the next day to the
heights of Haute-Maisons, behind a steep ridge which was
thought to offer adequate defilade protection. But the
Boche enfiladed from the left, and made many direct hits
upon the buildings and in the courtyard. The men of the
detail were forced to move into the abandoned German
dugouts close to the crest of the hill.
While Colonel Smith, Regimental Headquarters, the First
and Second Battalions crossed the river below
Villesavoye, the guns of the Third Battalion were stalled
temporarily at Fismes, where the engineers were working
beaver-like upon another bridge, which, because of the
heavy shelling, had not yet been made passable. During
this wait, a call came from the Division Commander for
artillery support for the advancing infantry. The
immediate services of F Battery were offered by Colonel
Smith; the pieces were unlimbered and seventy-nine rounds
were fired at the Boche from the street corners. One has
only to imagine a 155 howitzer firing from a busy
cross-ing in New York to picture the weird scene. Shortly
after, it was reported that the enemy fire had ceased.
Viumes is a town of considerable size, and before the
war, was a thriving railroad center and summer resort,
with many stores and hotels. The streets had once been
lined with magnificent shade-trees, and neatly paved.
Now, in striking similarity to Chateau-Thierry, the
beauty of its edifices was marred by ugly gaping holes
where shells had struck, and the trees stood as mutilated
stumps, their foliage torn by shell and shrapnel
splinters. Some were cut and cast across the streets as
barricades to retard our advance.
The First Battalion pulled into position west of
Haute-Maisons on the Rouen Reims Road, behind a ridge.
The Second Battalion established headquarters in a large
natural cave at Vauxcere, once our target, and now a mark
for the Boche. C Battery took position in a narrow-gauge
railway cut south of Vauxcere, and D Battery was emplaced
on the northern outskirts of the town. The Third
Battalion was to the east and north of Fismes, with F
Battery only five hundred meters behind the advancing
infantry. Vauxcere, Blanzy, Fismes, and Bazoches now
became the targets of the Boche, and beside his
harrassing fire upon these points, he swept the entire
Vesle-Aisne plateau.
The Boche grew still more active in air, and sent over
his planes in droves, bombing Bazoches and vicinity the
night of September 10th. On the exposed table-land,
covered with standing wheat and with not a tree for miles
which could afford camouflage, enemy planes grazed the
ground and turned their machine guns on our men crossing
it. Again the Boche had excellent observation, and on our
side, from the reserve infantry trenches, artillery
observation took in a large part of the terrain across
the Aisne,-the formidable fortifications of the
Chemin-des-Dames,-cut into the soft sandstone of the
cliffs across the river. The towns of Bourg-et -Comin,
Pont-Arcy, Euilly, Beuarieux, Pargnan, Moulins,
Vendresse-et-Tyron and the roads leading out of them were
in our view, and no movement that took place there
escaped the observers' eyes. One road, clearly visible,
which ran out of the last named town, was observed to be
alive during the day with men and wagons, and farther
behind, a wagon-park was visible. They were beyond the
range of the howitzers, and the Boche seemed to know it,
for he moved about there with impunity. The long-range
rifles of the Corps Artillery had been withdrawn, and
officers and men could only sit and fume at their
impotence. But upon the other and nearer targets, the
batteries fired profusely. La Petite Montagne, south of
the Aisne, a German strong point of machine-gun nests,
and a suspected sniper-battery position, received a good
share of our fire.
On September 13th, orders came for a supporting barrage
to assist our infantry. For forty hours, Vauxcere,
Bazoches, and Fismes rocked with the tumult of the
howling howitzers. The air was in a turmoil so that it
was impossible to hear anything but a shout. Forward
observation details saw spread before them as pretty and
dramatic a sight as modern war affords. There in the
valley grew a magic garden of shell-bursts, two parallel
lines like the hedgerows of some garden plot. As fast as
the slight wind dissolved the cloud of a burst, a new
burst grew in its place. Behind this protecting shield
infantry crept forward and before this hell's hedge-row
the Boche withdrew and began the last stage of the
retreat from the Soissons-Reims line.
That day, a division of Italians marched into the battle
area and took the places of the Americans in the line.
Our regiment fired all through the relief up to within an
hour of its departure from position the morning of
September 15th. The Boche must have been a bit
dumbfounded on his retreat from Chateau-Thierry to the
Aisne, for during that drive, he met French, Americans,
and Italians in close succession.
It was the Garibaldi Division which relieved us its
commander said to be a grandson of the Italian liberator.
As our columns passed them on the road, the good-natured
badinage of the ever-cheery Ameri-can artilleryman flew
from outgoing to incoming. " Hey Wop! Shine? "
would ring out from the ranks. The tanned sons of sunny
Italy, thinking that the Americans meant " Howdo
" would return flowery and courteous salutations.
But occasionally a touch
of home would evidence itself, as an Italian would greet
an American with " Oh you subway," or "Me
worka Grand Central!" while another told him that
the price of shaves in New York was then fifty cents.
The boys of the regiment knew that their Italian Allies
were now to make the Aisne their " Grand
Central," and if there was haircutting to be done,
the Boche would be the victim.
Through the narrow Vesle valley once more the columns
rumbled and clattered while gas and heavy caliber
high-explosive shells fell in that low saucer. The
streets of Fismes reverberated with terrible explosions.
It was dark, pitch-black, as the columns of the regiment
pulled through the crowded streets.
The relieving
columns of Italians were still coming in, and there were
exasperating blockades and delays.
Gas alarms passed
from rear to front and back again, and with the
encumbering masks upon their faces, the men groped to
keep the road, breasting as best they could the opposing
stream of traffic. It was nerve-racking, this farewell
salute of gas and shell, with safety just beyond. Wheel
scraped on wheel and splinters sprayed the long train as
explosions occurred often only twenty-five or fifty feet
away by the side of the road, but, the river reached, the
men dismounted and stood quietly by their horses until
the block at the narrow bridge should resolve itself. It
was not until the Vesle was several miles behind, the
ridge to its south had been cleared and a stop was made
to give out hot chocolate and cakes, that the strain was
released and "rest" actually accomplished. The
regiment, its work on the first active sector of its
history well done, was collected in a wood near
Coulonges, ready to sleep away the night hours in perfect
peace-peace in comparison to the noisy battle area. But
they were prepared for any tasks that might come. They
had learned the lessons of battle.
EDGAR G. HERRMANN,
Corporal, Hq. Co.