One thing sure, they are not afraid of it. Coming in to Vadenay I saw Amos Dow, a stripling youth of Company K, just back from the hospital after four months of absence—he was terribly gassed last March and his condition then had me much worried. He was still looking none too well.
“What brought you back,” I asked. “You are not fit for this kind of work yet.”
“Well, they did offer me other jobs, but I wanted to be with my own outfit, and I wanted to get a Dutchman after what they did to me, and I was sick of hearing the Marines talk about how good they are. I want to get into a first class battle with this Division like you’ve been through while I was coming up, and when I meet those birds from the Marines, I’ll have something to say to them.”
“You’re a blood-thirsty youth. But far be it from me to stop you. It’s your trade. But you can’t carry a pack, so I’ll fix it up to make it easy for you.”
“Joe,” I called to Sergeant Flannery, “I want you to get Captain Mangan and Lieutenant Kinney to adopt this savage child in the Supply Company for a week or two. See that he gets up where he can smell powder, but without too much hiking, and then give him his belt and rifle and let him go to it.”
“I had better get a lariat and a picket pin and tie him up,” growled Joe.
He was right. By morning the lad was gone off with Company K. He was afraid I would spoil his chance for a battle.
The survivors of our 2nd Battalion are camped in a wooded island in the stream and I spent the afternoon with them. The weather was delightful and they were enjoying a lounging, lazy, gossipy day, which is the one compensation for being in the Infantry—the artillery have fewer killed, but their work never lets up. I went amongst them to pick up incidents for my narrative. One of the first things I found was that the recent battle had given them increased confidence and respect for their officers. A Company F man said to me: “I’ll take back anything I ever said about Captain Mike. At Baccarat he had me fined two-thirds of three months pay for taking a drink too much and I said that if I had the job of rigging him up for a night patrol, I’d like to tie bells around him and put a lantern on his head.”
My first visit was to Company H, which had been the greatest sufferer. In addition to the names I have already cited, one of the most frequent on all men’s lips was that of Dudley Winthrop. Dudley is a fine youth and one of my best friends. I tell him that he has a name like a movie actor, but he says he can bring around two cousins of his named Connelly from Company G to prove that he belongs to the Fighting Race. I hope he gets the Croix de Guerre he has been put in for, for he certainly deserves it. Patrick J. Dwyer, William Gordon and Daniel Marshall are also cited by their fellows for sticking it out while wounded, with Thomas McDermott, who was tagged for the hospital and refused to go. High praise also for Martin Higgins (a born fighter) and Andrew Murray, Dan McCarthy, Sergeant Val. Dowling, William Smythe, Sammy Kleinberg, whom I saw going around all week cheerfully carrying the wounded with the clothes burned off his back by a misdirected flare; Tom Heaney, Robert Cooper, Michael Kearns, James O’Brien, John Thornton, John A. Fredericks, Donald Gillespie, John F. Lynch, Joseph Mattiello, with cooks Pat Fahey and Gorman, Timothy Walsh, Peter Breslin, John J. Walker, Charles Rogan, Michael Higgins, Dennis Kerrigan, James Guckian, John J. McCormack, James Todd, John Kelly, Frank Garvin, Lawrence Farrell, Bill Fleming, Charles Klika, William McNamee, James Merrigan, John Maher, Harold Avery, Patrick Connors, John P. Furey, Frank Condit, Robert McGuiness, John Higgins, James Keane, Patrick Travers, Thomas Slevin, John Ryan, John and James French, Bruno Guenther, Daniel Dayton, Frank Doran, Charles Ziegler. The men who were on the digging detail that had such heavy losses in the bombardment praise the coolness and solicitude for their safety of Lieutenants Becker and Otto.
Company G talked most about their Captain, the serenest pleasantest, and most assuring person in the world in time of trial and danger. Also Lieutenants Ogle and Stout, Norris and Joseph Boag, who was wounded in the fray. I myself had seen Carl Kemp of the same Company on duty at Battalion Headquarters standing through the bombardment on the top of the parapet on his duties as lookout. Sergeant Jim Coffey, wounded and still fighting; and, in the same class, Ralph Holmes and John Flanigan; James Christy, working his automatic from the top of the trench; Dennis Roe, always a good soldier in a fight; Sylvester Taylor and Joseph Holland, liaison men; Sergeants Jim Murray, Edward McNamara, Thomas T. Williamson and Frank Bull, Mess Sergeant Hugh Lee; James Henderson, Thomas Gallagher, William McManus, Michael Hogan, William Carroll, Morris Lemkin, Dennis O’Connor, John McNamara, John Conroy, Frank McNiff, Joseph P. Alnwick, Patrick Burke, Patrick Duffy, David Fitzgibbons, Angelo Dambrosio, James Keavey, Nicholas Martone, Lawrence Redmond, James Ryan and John Ryan, the Hans brothers; Thomas Slevin, Herbert Slade, James Walsh, Allen, Henry Curry and John Fay as Company liaison; Arthur Ayres, George Murray, Herman and Lyons as litterbearers; Louis Mugno, Maurice Dwyer, Patrick Keane, Charles McKenna, James Elliott, mechanics; Michael Hogan, Patrick Burke, young O’Keefe, Robert Monahan, Frank Garland; and, to end with a good old Irish name, Mack Rosensweig. I know he’ll be with us if we ever get a chance to go over and free Ireland, and he’ll be a good man to take along.