It was exactly 6 o'clock when the demoralizing barrage stopped, and it was followed by a protecting barrage. There is quite a difference between a demoralizing barrage and a protecting barrage. A demoralizing barrage is just what its name signifies, a demoralizing rain of shells upon the enemy. A protecting barrage is for the purpose of protecting the infantry as it charges into the enemy's lines and it is raised slowly as the infantry advances so as to keep over the heads of the marching soldiers. As soon as the protecting barrage was fired in this drive, the first waves of infantry went over the top.
Most people have a misconception of what going over the top is. The prevailing idea is that a great mass of troops rush over the top and into the German trenches. What really occurs is this: The men climb out of the trenches at an ordinary pace in a thin line from six to ten feet apart. This is followed in a few seconds by another thin line about the same distance apart, and then another, and so on until there are thousands of men advancing over No Man's Land, but they are scattered over a large area. The object in scattering them is to reduce losses in case an enemy shell falls among them. I have seen a shell fall among men advancing this way without hitting any of them, and I have also seen several fall from a single shell. Another reason for these thin waves is the fact that when advancing in this formation the men offer a poorer target to the machine guns of the enemy, while in mass formation, a machine gun could mow down in a short time a whole company.
Just ahead of the waves of infantry in this drive, wiggled the tanks. These cumbersome, awkward, ugly but efficient machines were of great help to the foot soldiers. They not only made a path through the barbed wire entanglements that the artillery had not destroyed, but they hunted out and destroyed German machine gun nests, which were so dangerous to the infantry. The tanks had a very difficult task and they performed it well. Too much credit cannot be given to the tank crews. They were brave, skillful and good fighters. It is true they were in a measure protected behind the steel walls of the machine, but, on the other hand, they were exposed to heavy fire, it was hot and disagreeable within and in case of being struck by a shell or running onto a mine, the horrors were worse than those to which other fighters were exposed. The greatest danger was that of being trapped within and burned to death in case a shell hits the gasoline tank; a number were destroyed in that manner. So I give full credit to the tank men for their heroic services—they braced the greatest dangers without knowing such a word as "fear."
As our boys went over the top they were given the protection of an aerial squadron. Only those who were advancing toward the Hun lines on that day, with full realization of their duties and their dangers, know what a feeling of protection these hovering planes gave us. They flew low, frequently just over the heads of the men, and poured their deadly machine gun fire into such of the Hun trenches as the artillery had not destroyed—and, no matter how thoroughly the artillery does its work, there is always plenty left for the other branches of the army to do. These daring airmen also dropped fishtail bombs on the Huns. These men were the bravest of the brave. They had the courage, grit and combative qualities of the lion. They are constantly in great danger. They are fired upon from below by enemy anti-aircraft guns, and frequently from above by enemy planes. They are also exposed, when they fly low, to rifle fire and machine guns and machines are frequently brought down by such fire. During a drive of this kind they also face the danger of running into their own barrage and are restricted as to the area in which they may manoeuver. We cannot give these fearless men of the flying corps too much praise for their work. While men in all branches of the American army were brave and all did their duty, I think the airmen, like the tank men, deserve a special meed of praise for their daring, and when I say this, I intend in no way to detract from the bravery of the men in any other branch of the service.
The Flash Service, to which I belonged, was not a fighting unit. While we were heavily armed, so that we could defend ourselves and fight if necessary, we were not, in the strict sense of the word, combatants. It was more important for us to keep the lines of communication in working order, to give the artillery the range on certain objects, to locate machine gun nests and direct fire upon them so they could be destroyed, than to fight, for there were sufficient numbers in other branches of the army for that purpose. But we did not overlook an opportunity to help our cause, and it is with a great deal of pleasure that I tell of a machine gun nest of thirteen men captured by three of the men of our detachment, though of a different post from mine. It was during the early morning of the first day of the drive. It should be stated that the American infantry advanced so rapidly that it frequently went right by carefully concealed machine gun nests. This was just what the Germans wanted them to do, because they opened fire from the rear and rained bullets on our men from two sides. The three men that captured the nest of which I am telling were just in back of the second wave of infantry that went over the top, following it up for the purpose of establishing our line of communication from front to rear. They came upon this nest as the Huns were preparing to fire at our advancing men. When they first located the nest the Americans had their revolvers carefully wrapped in greased coils and in their holsters, not expecting to use them—the greased coils being to keep the weapons from rusting from the dampness of the trenches. These resourceful American boys lost no time, however, in getting their weapons ready for use, and by a quick and intrepid manoeuver, they approached the Huns, covered them with their revolvers, and compelled them to surrender without so much as firing a shot. The Huns were taken to the rear, and their gun, a Vicker, became a trophy of war.
It was about 9 o'clock in the morning while we were advancing that I came upon a petite French tank, which had run upon a Hun mine and had been completely destroyed. The machine was reduced to a pile of junk, and it was hardly believable that a mine would work such destruction. The heavy iron was torn in shreds, and while we knew it was a tank and we knew what had happened to it, it was now nothing but scrap iron.
Just about that time the infantry was capturing thousands of Hun prisoners—men who had occupied the front German trenches and who were overcome by our boys. As I was advancing, I saw 3,700 German prisoners marching to the rear, and as it was still early in the day, you may know with what thoroughness our boys were doing their work. Among these prisoners was a German officer who knew the location of the mines that had been planted to destroy tanks, bridges, roads, etc. The Americans were not long in learning this and they compelled him to point out these locations. Under his guidance, 52 mines were destroyed. These might have done great damage to American tanks and soldiers if they had not been set off. As it was, they opened a pathway through which our tanks passed without danger.
As we went forward into the territory that had been held by the Huns, we could see the results of our own work, that is to say, we could see objects upon which we had given the range to the artillery, completely destroyed. It was gratifying to note that our work and the work of the artillery had been so accurate. Objects, such as headquarters, railroad tracks, cross roads, that we had located through our strong glasses before the drive, and upon which we had given the distance to the gunners, had been shattered by direct hits, speaking wonders for the marksmanship of the American gunners. At some places we saw scores of men and animals that had been killed by shell fire; at others we saw trenches that had been as completely wiped out as though they never existed; we also saw ammunition dumps that had been hit and set afire and which burned steadily for several days. These were exceedingly dangerous places, and we kept a good distance from them until they burned completely out, as the exploding shells threw flying metal for a distance of a hundred yards or more. We also came across railroad trains that had been hit as they were proceeding, and so badly crippled that they had to be abandoned by the enemy, later to be captured by us.
We advanced about ten kilometers the first day, and then our men were directed to dig in. Here we met with our first real resistance. The enemy counter attacked during the night, but his charges were finally broken up by our accurate fire.
Our advance that day had been rapid and had penetrated deeply into the enemy line. This had been possible because of the rapidity with which our supplies had been brought up. The roads for the most part were not badly cut up, and those that were damaged were quickly repaired by our engineers. Bridges had been hastily built, obstructions removed from highways, and shell holes filled in so that traffic could go on almost uninterruptedly. This made it possible for all necessary munitions to move forward.