Father Duffy's story

by Francis Patrick Duffy

It was at the top of the hill that the Captain was wounded, a bullet going through his left side. Before he fell he had looked the situation over. The forward lines were now able to see clearly the whole field. In front the terrain stretched over perfectly level ground for five hundred yards to the edge of the forest of Nesles where one could detect the prepared emplacements and regularly wired positions. It was useless to advance in that direction; not a man could ever cross that stretch alive. To the right a company of the Alabamas had come up, but they, too, had been swept to pieces by the German fire and no more managed to reach the top. To the left, across the valley, our second battalion had begun to work its way up the opposite slope towards Seringes. Their fire could be detected as they wormed their way forward.

Looking back down the hill the sight was discouraging. The ground was littered with the bodies of the brave, and the slopes of the Ourcq were dotted with the wounded, helping one another to the dressing station across the river in Villers sur Fere.

Half the battalion was out of action. Of five Lieutenants, Hurley had lost three killed, and one wounded. Merle-Smith was wounded and also three of his four officers, the fourth being killed. Eugene Gannon, a brave and competent soldier, was now his second in command. Ryan, badly wounded, was the only officer left in I, though he had well placed confidence in his first sergeant, Patrick McMiniman, a rock-ribbed old-timer, and Sergeants Shanahan and Patrick Collins.

All three commanders decided that the position on the top of the hill was untenable. When they had swept over the last emplacements of the German guns on the hill they not only found that their own further advance was impossible; they had also left the German artillery free to act, and the shelling began with terrific vigor. So the main body drew back a little below the crest, leaving automatic gunners and sharp-shooters to keep the Germans from venturing forward from the woods. Our own machine guns, the Wisconsin lads manning them, had followed the advance, the gunners fighting with desperate courage. The ammunition was carried up by their men and ours at a fearful cost. Five feet or so a man might run with it and then go down. Without a moment’s hesitation, some other soldier would grab it and run forward to go down in his turn. But the guns had to be fed and still another would take the same dreadful chance. Death was forgotten. Every man thought only of winning the fight. Finally the guns were put out of action by shell fire at the top of the hill and there they stood uselessly, their gunners lying dead around them.

Death was busy on that hill that morning. It claimed Johnnie Bradley, the baby of the Company, for whom life was still an unexplored field; and Ben Gunnell of the Northwest Mounted Police, who had tried most earthly things and found them wanting. Pat Stanley, who had left his kitchen to fight, found a noble end to his fighting. Arthur Matthews, mortally wounded, spent what remained to him of breath, calling words of encouragement to his companions. Two men worked side by side,—one was taken and the other left. Frank Mulligan and Frank Van Bramer worked an automatic. Van Bramer was called. John O’Hara went the long road and Jim O’Connor stuck it out untouched. Frankie Connolly took the automatic from McCarthy’s dead hands and kept it going all morning. Eddie Martin and Will Corbett, liaison men, were shot down, and Charlie Garrett wounded. The voices of Thomas Curry and Henry Lynch and Arthur Thompson were hushed forever. Frank Courtney, Will Flynn, Earl Rhodes, Thomas Boyle, Carl Moler, John McCabe, Harold Van Buskirk, Louis Ehrhardt, Fred Muesse, Darcy Newman, Melvin Spitz, kept up the fight of that bare hillside with no thought of retreat until their heroic souls were sped. Charles Ford and Spencer Ely, Albert Schering and Thomas Shannon were carried from the field and died of their wounds.

Captain Hurley, in command of the battalion on the hill, had gone down to confer with the Colonel. Captains Ryan and Merle-Smith were both wounded. The latter kept cheerfully moving around amongst his men, while Ryan had to lie in a depression and try to keep up the spirits of his followers by calling to them. When his voice failed him, Paddy Flynn, a clean-cut young Irish athlete, came and lay along side him and coached the team like a captain on the base lines. As he raised his head to call he was hit on the cheek, but he kept on urging resistance until he was finally wounded severely. Paddy Hackett’s voice was also heard throughout the fight urging the old gallants to stick, until he, too, found his place among the heroes of the regiment that are gone.

And still the remnants of the battalion held their ground, though that ground was being plowed by shells. They had the hill; and if a general forward movement was on, as they had been told, it was their place to hold that hill till the other organizations could come up, even though the last man amongst them should remain there for his long sleep. Captain Meaney had sent up reinforcements to piece out the thinned line. A platoon under Lieutenant Ahearn arrived, but reinforcements only added to the slaughter. What was needed was artillery fire and strong supporting movements on the flanks. Lieutenant Ahearn was wounded and two of his best Sergeants, Patrick Clark and Patrick Hayes. Sergeant William Francis was killed, also Corporals Patrick Cooke and George Hoblitzell, one of two fine brothers; and Patrick Byrne, Hubert Hill, James Scanlan, John Tobin and John Donahue fought their last fight. Mat Mahoney, Frank Cullum, John Powers and Bill Conville, with many others, were badly wounded.

Lieutenant Connelly had tried to remove Captain Ryan from the field. But the Captain threatened to shoot anybody who would attempt to take him away from his men. Finally, about noon, Captain Merle-Smith came to him with information that the order had come to withdraw through the 1st Battalion, which already occupied the lower slopes of the hill.

That task remained to carry in the wounded. Company M gave great help, but every man who could walk lent a hand to this task of friendship. Corporal Dynan, who had already done more than his share of the fighting, got wounded finally while helping others off the field.

Lieutenant Williams remained out to hold the advance position with a platoon of Company K, including Sergeants Joe Farrell and Peter Crotty, Corporals George Meyer, Patrick Ryan, John Naughton and John McLaughlin.