“We got orders to move three kilos that night and go in another position. Hitched and hooked in ’round five. That gave us time enough to down some ‘corn-willy’ and black coffee. First we’d had to monjay since mornin’. Soon as it was dark we got out on the main road and started. That road was just like Broadway with traffic. Only they don’t have so many ambulances goin’ up and down Broadway. It was all a man could do to skin himself and horse, or whatever his cheval was hooked on to, by the stuff that was floodin’ down from the first lines. There wasn’t no trenches in that war. Just lines, and half the time we didn’t know just where in hell the first lines was, ’cause after them doughboys would make three or four kilometers they would be scattered all over creation.
“Column halted near a little village that was all knocked into a cocked hat. There was a few thousand replacements waitin’ to go in. All infantry. On one side of the road was a battery of 155 longs. Them things make a noise like a mine explosion and raise a man off his feet when they go off. The horses got scared, naturally, and part of the column got smeared all over the road.
“Just ’bout that time General Edwards comes bowlin’ along in his big limousine. He was ridin’ on the seat with the driver. The back of the machine was full of sandwiches. Course he couldn’t get by on account of the jam-up. Boy, he climbed down and got hold of a first loot who was in the command of the outfit whose horses was raisin’ all the hell. Gosh! you ought to heard him give that gink a bawlin’-out.
“‘Git this stuff out of my way! Damn quick too! Look in that car. Look!’ he yelled; honest he was cryin’. ‘See what’s there, don’t you? Somethin’ to eat for my boys. Yes, the doughboys. Now move.’ O. D. that first loot got on a caisson wheel and strained himself enough to get a discharge from the army. They got the stuff out of the way toot sweet.
“General Edwards hadn’t no more than got started when the old shells, whizz-bangs, blew in town with an awful noise. Gas came over, too. There was gas alarms goin’ enough to wake New York City out of a Sunday-mornin’ sleep. Then those cussed Boche planes began dronin’ over our heads. Ever heard a bomb explode? No? Well, you’re just as well off. They’re pas bon stuff, O. D.
“The Boches sure must have known that we was right down-stairs under ’em, ’cause they started pullin’ up the old tailboards and droppin’ ’em every damn minute. Bombs, bombs, and more bombs. They dropped right in the column, knocked ruined houses into our ears, filled your eyes with dirt. Some horses, ’bout ten, got hurt so bad we had to shoot ’em. Think ’bout three men got killed while the jam lasted, but ain’t quite sure.
“We moved after a while, and the planes followed us up. Got to the fork of some roads and took the one leadin’ right down to the Marne. That was just below Mont St. Pierre, a little village. There was a pontoon bridge, one of them boat things, you know—right near where we halted for the night. You can imagine how the Germans was tryin’ to pot-shot that bridge. The town was all marbles from shells hittin’ it that was aimed at the bridge.
“Time we halted a big boy banged in. Hit in the woods where we was to camp for the night. Bon welcome, eh? Stink? Whew! Those woods did reek—had to bury our noses in the ground to get to sleep. Well, the gas came over strong. The Heinies threw bombs down as regular as Christy Mathewson used to heave strikes across the plate—and everybody was scared as hell.
“Don’t let any man ever tell you he don’t get scared at the front. He’s a damn liar if he says he don’t get scared. Ain’t that you want to run away or lose your guts in the fightin’. No, not that kind of scared stuff. It’s like this. There you are waitin’ for somethin’ to come along and take you off on some strange trip. You know it’s goin’ to hurt like hell gettin’ started, too. It’s that uncertain, don’t-know stuff that gets you. When those bombs are fallin’ and you’re in a place like we was that night, with no place to go, there’s nothin’ to do but pull a cheesecloth blanket over your head and try to cushay. Ain’t much fun, O. D. I had one hell of a toothache and it worried me so much I didn’t get a chance to be as scared as I should have been. Funny how a thing like a toothache can take your mind off other troubles.
“Things got so bad toward five bells in the mornin’ that the C. O. decided to wake us up and move. But before we could get set to move the shellin’ let up and he says, ‘Ah, let her go, we’ll stay.’ Camouflaged the old cheveaux and stuff again and hung ’round for breakfast. Course breakfast only meant a thin slice of bacon and a fistful of hardtack. The coffee had given out by that time. You might expect that the supplies could have reached us easy. But gettin’ supplies to us was like findin’ a nigger in the dark. I swear I believe we were lost durin’ most of the Château-Thierry racket. Seems that way, anyhow. For a long time after we left Mont St. Pierre the batteries never did know where the échelons were and the échelons didn’t know where anything was. Mules, drivers, and ration-carts used to get lost every day. That’s why we were short of café.