CHAPTER VII[ToC]
Gassed
One of the happiest days that I experienced during the period that I was at war was on Friday, September 20, 1918. On this day, after having made several visits to our new posts in the front line, I came back to our billet, where, to my delight and surprise, I found eight letters from home awaiting me. No one knows the joy that a letter from home gives to a soldier on the firing line. It is like taking him out of hell and placing him back on earth again. For several days we had been in the very thickest of the fight, facing death at every minute, seeing our companions fall around us, doing everything we possibly could to help our side win, and willing to go back and do it all over again without complaint—and then to get these welcome letters from dear ones 9,000 miles away right in the midst of it all. Is it any wonder that on such occasions we frequently gave way to our emotions?
The letters that I received were enjoyed not only by me, but by my companion, McKinley Johnston, as well, as he knew all of my people and was as familiar as I was with the things that they wrote about. It is a peculiar circumstance, but it is a fact, nevertheless, that all of the boys, even those who did not know my folks and who came from other States than California, were interested in these letters. They were news from home and that is what all the boys were craving. They wanted to read anything that came from America. So, after reading the letters, I passed them all around and every boy in the camp read them. After getting the letters back, I read them over several times. Several of them contained photographs of familiar scenes and faces, and it seemed good to look upon them again, for no one knew but that it might be the last time we would see them. I thought it would be a nice thing to sit right down and write, after reading these letters, but when I attempted it, I was so overcome with emotion caused by thoughts of those who were near and dear to me, that I was unable to give expression to my thoughts.
The position of the American troops at this time was not favorable. The enemy held the commanding ground, and was concealed in woods, while our troops were out in the open. The Boche could see what we were doing while we were unable to detect his moves. This disadvantage, you might well know, would not long be tolerated by Americans. We wanted the commanding ground and we wanted to put Fritz in the open. So on Monday, September 23rd, we gave Fritz a three-hour barrage and it was a hot one. By the time the barrage started, all our light artillery had been brought up and put in place, and we were able to rain shells from the famous 75's upon the enemy in torrents. This barrage was for the purpose of breaking up the morale of the Germans. We were counter-barraged by the Huns, and for a time they made it hot for us. But our superiority began to show after about an hour's firing. The men in the Flash Division worked hard to give our gunners the correct location of the German batteries. We worked hard and fast and the accuracy of our effort was shown by the silencing of the German guns. One by one they ceased firing, as the American artillery, with the data we supplied them, dropped shells on the Hun batteries.
It was just about 5:45 in the morning when our artillery ceased firing and our boys advanced again. This time our objectives were only about two kilometers in back of the German front trenches. We met with stubborn resistance at first, but with the usual American determination and pluck, we soon forced the Boche back.
It was here that I first saw the German minnewafers and trench mortars at work. The shells thrown from the minnewafers are as much feared as any German weapon of war. They are thrown from a large gun with a smooth bore and short barrel. The projectile is shaped like a rolling pin, though it is much larger. In each end, or handle of the shell, is a cap, which explodes as the handle strikes the ground. As the projectile somersaults as it travels, one handle or the other is sure to hit the earth, so there are no "duds" that I saw among these shells. They explode with a terrific racket and tear up the earth for a great distance around the spot where they land. They are not thrown very high in the air, and are intended for use in close fighting, that is to say, two or three hundred yards. As the shells whirl through the air, you can plainly hear them whistling, and if you look sharply you can occasionally see them coming. These minnewafers and mortars are of various ranges—from three and four inches up to twelve and fourteen inches. Aside from these trench guns, the Germans in this fight also resisted heavily with machine gun nests and one pounders.
In going over the top this time, we did not have the protection that we did when the St. Mihiel drive started. In other words, we did not have any tanks or any aerial protection, but had to advance with only such help as the artillery could give us.