Father Duffy's story

by Francis Patrick Duffy

August, 1918

This is a dirty, dank, unwholesome spot and the daily rains make it daily more intolerable. But they are keeping us here in reserve till some division—they say our old townies of the 77th—has time to come up. The forest has been occupied by the Germans and its sanitary conditions are no credit to their boasted efficiency. Sixty per cent of our men are sick with diarrhœa and everybody is crawling with cooties. The men are sleeping in shelter tents or in holes in the ground in the woods and they are a sorry looking lot.

A number of them have been busy with me in the heart-breaking task of burying the dead, which is hard for everybody, but particularly I think, for myself, because I knew these men so well and loved them as if they were my younger brothers. It has been the saddest day in my life. Well, it is the last act of love I can do for them and for the folks at home. God comfort them in their sorrow. I must not think of the tragedy of it too much; the main thing is to keep up the spirits of the living, for battles must still be fought and the awful price paid if the war is to be won. Many of us who have come through this will be dead after the next battle; and if the war lasts another year or so there will be few, very few left of the infantry in our First Hundred Thousand. It is a soldier’s fate and we must be ready for it.

In this one battle nearly half our strength is gone. We have lost fifty-nine officers and thirteen hundred men and of these thirteen officers and about two hundred men have been killed outright. Many of our wounded have been badly hurt and we shall have other details to grieve over.[5] But in spite of losses and sorrow and sickness I find the men surprisingly cheerful and willing to carry on. They have what soldiers most wish for, Victory. And they know now that the men who opposed their path and had to give way to their persistence were the famous Prussian Guards, of the very flower of the German Military Machine. The old 69th had again lived up to its reputation of the past; there were no German troops, no troops in the world that could withstand its stubborn bravery.

I went amongst the survivors to gather items for my chronicle of the war. I may say here as I rewrite these chapters that I have had to obtain many of the incidents months afterwards from men that have been wounded, for many of those who could best tell the story were then lying suffering from agonizing wounds on hospital cots, and still burning with the courage and devotion of their race for the day when they could once more return to the post of danger with their beloved regiment. These are the real heroes of the war. It is easy under the stress of emotional enthusiasm to volunteer for service, but the true test of a man comes when, after he has faced the danger of sudden death and has passed through days of racking pain, he once more insists, in spite of offers of easier service from kindly officers, on taking his place again in the battle line with his old comrades. And now that the war is over, there is nothing that stirs my blood like the petty arrogance of some officials in hospitals and casual camps who rebuke the requests of men (many of whom have been wounded and gone back into line and got wounded again) to rejoin their former outfits. My malison on their tribe.

I shall present first the lists of names mentioned for good work (a soldier’s meed) and afterwards incidents of more general interest. Company A gives credit to three snipers for working out to the front ahead of them and making the Fritzies keep their heads down during the attack on July 29th: Corporal Charles Hallberg, Edwin Stubbs, and John McDonald. They also spoke highly of their Sergeants or Acting Sergeants on whom leadership devolved during the fight: Joseph Higginson, Joseph Pettit, John R. Scully, Hugh McFadden, Harry Blaustein, Will Mehl, Don Matthews, Michael Walsh, Frederick Garretson, Sidney Clark, and John Dennelly. With Dennelly in the occupation of Meurcy Farm were John Sheehy, Maurice Cotter, Pilger, Newton, Thorn, Iverson and Frechales. Besides Henderson, those who distinguished themselves by liaison work were Corporal Lester Hanley, Joseph M. McKinney, Michael Polychrom, Louis Tiffany, John Gannon and Edwin Dean. Litter Bearers: Matt Kane, Howard Hamm and in a volunteer capacity Cook Edward Mooney, Albert Cooper, August Trussi. Others mentioned with high praise are Patrick Thynne, Patrick J. Doolin, Fred Stenson, John J. Morrissey, James Partridge, Paul Smith, John Barrett, Richard Campion, Louis Cornibert, Brady and Buckley.

If Company B ever loses its big Captain they have already a candidate of their own to succeed him in his senior lieutenant, John J. Clifford, a cool and capable officer, as all his men say. The greatest loss the Company has suffered is from the death of the First Sergeant, John O’Neill, a remarkable old soldier with regular army experience, who was frightfully wounded by shell fire while getting up supplies, and died in hospital. Al Dunn, a game youth, was hit by the same shell, but refused to allow anybody to touch him until O’Neill was looked after. Among other good men who received wounds were John Mooney, William Judge, Al Whalen, Harry Guenther, Dan Finnegan, Thomas Fitzpatrick, Vincent Farrell, Francis X. Goodwin, and William O’Sullivan. The platoon under Lieutenant Wheatley that joined the attack with Company A, had for its non-coms Edward Kelly, Langan, Cullinan, Travis, Patrick Kelly, Foster, Tinker, McClymont and Mearns. Lieutenant Clifford had high praise for Sergeant Thomas, who had gone out on the night of July 28th to repulse a counter-attack of the Germans and, of those in the detachment, Connie Reuss, Corporal Michael Tierney, a Clare man, who was killed; and also amongst the killed Charles Chambers, a patriotic volunteer who leaves a wife to mourn him in the city of Dublin. James Dwyer, Joseph McCarthy, Joseph Maher and John A. Lane were also badly wounded. As John A. Lane was lying out in a very exposed position his namesake, John B. Lane, a lad of eighteen, and the pride of the Company as a clever little boxer, declared that he was going out to carry the other in. He did so without scath, but was killed three days later in front of Meurcy Farm. Private Frank McGovern received praise for a similar action on the 29th; also Harold Kyte, Thomas Walsh, John O’Connor, James Lannon, James Austin and John Matthews, litter bearers. John Mahoney especially distinguished himself in this line, carrying the wounded to the rear and then lugging up food for the surviving fighters. Good liaison work was done by Charles Weick, James Murray, James Brennan, Ed. Powers, Jim Brundage, Arthur LaSalle, and John Kane, a youngster of seventeen. Thomas Herlihy and Charles Kavanagh were also commended.

Inquiry at Company C gave me the name of John Teevan, who on the 31st left cover to save a wounded comrade and was himself wounded while doing it; Sergeant Herman Hillig, always a good man, who led the advance patrol on the 29th; Corporal Frank Drivdahl, who took charge of a half platoon when his seniors were wounded and led it into handgrips with the enemy. All of the non-coms distinguished themselves. First Sergeant Gene Halpin, always a steady leader; Tom O’Hagan, the beau ideal of an Irish soldier; Sergeants Joe Hennessey, John Knight, John McAuliffe, Peter Keller, Frank Colyer, Corporals Frank Duffy, James Barry, Charles Quinn, Edward Gordon, Edward Brown, and amongst those wounded Arthur Totten, Arthur Slicklen, Peter Gammel, the Peisel brothers, and Denis Cahill, sturdiest of old-timers. This Company claims that it has the most heroic and devoted lot of litter bearers that ever deliberately took their lives in their hands. By the stories I hear it is hard to choose between them. They are Thomas P. McPherson, Edmond McCarthy, James and Joseph Burns (twins in birth and twins in courage) and Edward F. Brown. They were always at the front, day and night, and they should all have the Distinguished Service Cross. Liaison men mentioned are Clarence Smith and Vivian Commons. Others that received praise were Frederick Craven, Corporal Childress, who came over on the torpedoed Tuscania and joined us at Baccarat; Corporal Pat Moran, Thomas Leddy, James Heaney; and Mess Sergeant Grace with cooks Duffy and Wilson, who won the eternal gratitude of the Company by carrying food to them in line.

William Hisle was one of the first names I got from Company D, a man who did extraordinarily fine work as a litter bearer. John J. Kolodgy also, and Edward Coxe (wounded at the same task and sticking on the job until killed) are in the same class. Liaison men: Louis Murphy, William P. White, John Conway, John Dale, Frank DeMuth; while others mentioned are Mess Sergeant Edward McIntee, Pat Crowley, “the wild Irishman,” Pat Grogan (wounded again), John L. Burke, Peter Carberry, Charles Edgerton, Richard Dwyer (who said “Tend to me last” when wounded), Thomas Keyes, Sergeant Denis Murphy, badly wounded; Denis O’Connor, Charles Lynch, Everett Smith, John Cahill, Andrew O’Rourke, Peter O’Sullivan, Martin Hurst, Arthur Comer, John L. Thompson, John Cox, Joseph P. Tracy and Patrick Finn (both ’98 men) and Fred Urban, a new man and a great shot with the rifle, with Chief Powless and Tony Zaliski.

Company E told me of Michael Breen, who received his death wound, covering the advance of his Company by the use of smoke grenades; William Foley and James Fitzpatrick, going out under fire to rescue two companions; George M. Failing, who did noble work as a litter bearer; John Costello, Thomas Cullen (both killed), with Bechtold and William Goldenburg, four privates who saved their Company by putting a machine gun out of action. Sergeant Augustus T. Morgan, also Sergeant Frank Johnston and Corporal John Cronin did heroic work.