Father Duffy's story

by Francis Patrick Duffy

Colonel McCoy was sent for and the order was given him. Major McKenna expressed his opinion of the order in a manly, soldierly way. Captain Hurley of Company K had felt out the enemy resistance during the night and had found machine gun nests just across the river, the enemy artillery also being very active. The assumption of a retreating enemy against whom infantry bayonets and charging cavalry could be effective was not justified by what the front line could detect. It was a case for artillery preparation and careful advance. Colonel McCoy was already of the same opinion, which he expressed with proper vigor. They were three good soldiers, Lenihan, McCoy and McKenna, and they all felt the same way about it. But it was a Corps Order, an Army order, in fact, commanding a general advance. Whatever might be the cost, it could not be that this regiment should not do its share to keep the advancing line in even contact with the enemy. So when the hour arrived the Colonel gave the order to advance, which order was communicated by Major McKenna, to Hurley, Ryan and Merle-Smith, Meaney being in reserve. Orders were also sent to Colonel Donovan on the right to move his battalion to the west, taking advantage of the woods, and then to cross the river. Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell brought orders in person to Anderson to bring his battalion forward and cross the Ourcq on the left of McKenna, which would bring him to the slope on the west of the little brook leading towards Bois Colas.

Meanwhile General Lenihan at 3:20 A. M. had received word from General Brown of the 84th Brigade that he could not be sure of having his regiments in line in time for the assault. As a matter of fact, the Iowas, under Colonel Tinley, were already abreast of Donovan; and the assault battalion of the Alabamas, under Lieutenant Colonel Baer, was rapidly coming up behind. About 5:00 A. M. General Lenihan received word that the French were not in Fere en Tardenois. He decided that it was too hazardous to push the attack and word was sent at 5:15 o’clock to Colonel McCoy to suspend his advance temporarily pending the advance of neighboring organizations.

But the old regiment had a motto to live up to, “Never disobeyed an order, never lost a flag.” McKenna had given his orders to his Captains who all knew just what it meant—and the men under them knew it. Many of them, most of them, as it turned out, would be dead or wounded up that pleasant little valley and along its eastern slopes before the sun rode at mid-heavens. But no man was daunted by the thought.

The first wave was to be Company K, already so cruelly tried by the gas attack at Lunéville. Their leader was Captain John Patrick Hurley, whose slender form and handsome ascetic face seemed to mark the poet or the student rather than the soldier. But he was a keen soldier, one whose blood pumped full and even when death was flying round. Company K was willing to die for him or with him anywhere. At his command they moved forward in advance formation with intervals all perfect at a walk, a trot, a run, down to the Ourcq. It was a sight to remember while life would last, as perfect as a peace manœuvre but with death all around. In that short advance Sergeant Frank Doughney and Corporal Raymond Staber, the heroic son of Mount Loretto, found their way to heaven; and a number of good men were wounded. But they swept on over the Green Mill bridge and across its dam and through the waters of the river with Captain Hurley and Lieutenant Pat Dowling in the lead, and did not stop till they had gained a footing under the bank of the road beyond the river.

Right on their heels came Company I under the Boer War Veteran, Captain Richard J. Ryan, in the same perfect formation. They, too, swept across the Ourcq (Eddie Joyce being the one man killed), and took up their place with Company K under the bank. The two Captains reformed their men and were looking over the situation. Their objective was Meurcy Farm. But that lay in the valley and was impossible to take until at least one of the slopes was cleared to its summit; as a direct advance would expose them to fierce enfilading fire. Even where they were, one group of enemy machine guns could fire direct on their flank; so Captain Ryan sent one of his best men, Sergeant E. Shanahan, with Hugh McFadden, Pat McKeon, Hettrick, Hartnett and others to put it out of action. A forlorn hope, he felt, but they did it without losses, as Shanahan was a born leader.

The line was scarcely straightened out when the men were given the word to advance. The left of Company K moved out on the lower slopes along the little valley towards Meurcy Farm; the right of K and all of I at an angle straight up the bare, smooth slope towards the machine gun nests that were spitting fire from that direction. That kind of action suited Pat Dowling. He jumped to his feet and called to his platoon to follow, when a machine gun bullet gave him a mortal wound. Sergeant Embree and John J. Conefry fell by his side. A heart-broken soldier lifted the Lieutenant. “Did they get that machine gun on the right?” “Yes, sir.” Then, “Thank God!” and a dauntless leader of men was no more.

The line swept on. The slope to the right ran through a wheat field and then with a gentle rise to the summit. In the lower portion there was a group of machine guns manned by good men. But they had to deal with better men. The line swung around the guns in a semi-circle, the men crawling on their bellies like Indians now. The rifles were crackling all around, their sharp bursts of fire drowning at times the incessant pop, pop, pop of the machine guns. Many of the German gunners were killed and the others found it nigh impossible to lift their heads from their holes to work the pieces. Not one of them offered to surrender. Most of them died at their posts. A few sought safety in flight and some of these managed to slip back up the hill to safety. We met some of these men long afterwards. They spoke of the sweep of the Battalion across the Ourcq and said they thought Americans were crazy.

Meanwhile big gallant Merle-Smith with Company L had crossed the river and had fallen into line on the hill to the right of Company I. Major McKenna, anxious to extend his flanks as far as possible, had thrown in Company D, half of it on the right of L, well into territory that belonged to the neighboring regiment, and half to the left rear of K, up the valley towards the farm.

The men who had the farm for their objective fared the best. At that moment it was not very strongly held and the shoulder of the hill protected them from fire from its summit. Sergeants Meade and Crotty, with a platoon of Company K, followed by Lieutenant Cook, with two platoons of D, worked their way up the valley. There was a sharp fight under the stone walls of the old building and gallant Bob Foster there found the death that was sure to be his in battle. Carl Nyquist of L was also killed. Finally, rifles were thrust through the windows and the last of the Germans retreated across the courtyard and out the other side. While searching for food (soldiers always go into battle after a long fast), Corporal John Gribbon found one lone German hiding in the cellar and sent him to the rear. Other soldiers ran into the orchard like school boys and picked green apples to satisfy their hunger. Sergeant Crotty was sent to establish a line of sharp-shooters to keep down the fire from the edge of Bois Colas, and Sergeant Dick O’Neill held the Farm with his platoon of Company D, until the Germans, learning from their own fugitives that it had been evacuated by their men, shelled the defenders out into the open.

The main attack had harder going. Near the crest of the hill was a new line of German guns much stronger than the first and with a magnificent field of fire that swept almost every part of the slope. Now that their own men at the base were out of the way, the German Artillery, too, had more freedom to act, and shells began to drop along the slope, carrying destruction. The whine of bullets was incessant and the quick spurts of dust spoke of imminent death. But still the line kept crawling forward, each man keeping his resolution to the sticking point with no exhilaration of a headlong charge nor even a friendly touch of shoulder. In attacks such as this each man must crawl forward in isolation, keeping his interval from his neighbors lest destruction should reach too many at one time. It is the finest test of courage.