We were joined at this time by Major Atkins of the Salvation Army, an exceptionally fine character. He stayed with us during most of the time we were in Europe. He was courageous under fire, felt that where the men went he wished to go, and was a splendid influence with them. Whatever he could do he always did with a whole heart.
Before the war I felt that the Salvation Army was composed of a well-meaning lot of cranks. Now what help I can give them is theirs. My feelings are well illustrated by a conversation I overheard between two soldiers. One said, "Say, Bill, before this war I used to think it good fun to kid the Salvation Army. Now I'll bust any feller on the bean with a brick if I see him botherin' them."
Early in January we were told that replacements were arriving to bring up our companies to 250 in strength. When the men arrived we planned to be there on time to get our fair share. Two old sergeants, Studal and Shultz, went down and helped pick the recruits, working from detachment to detachment trying to shift the best material into our detail. The men were, on the whole, a fine lot, but their knowledge of military matters was absolutely nil. A large percentage had never shot any firearms, and still a larger percentage had never shot the service rifle. One man turned up with a service record on which was nothing except "Mennonite, objects to bearing arms." Incidentally he made an excellent soldier, and was killed while fighting gallantly near Montdidier. Another man had partial paralysis of one side. When the medical officer asked him if he had been examined before he said, "No, sir; just drafted." Still another had an arm so stiffened that he could hardly bend his elbow. When the medical officer tried to send him to the rear he protested. We let him stay. He became an automatic rifle gunner, and was later killed.
One westerner, from Montana I believe, called Blalock, finished the war as first sergeant in Company D, after a very distinguished record. Another young fellow, Aug by name, was a real estate man from Sacramento. I noticed him first when he was detailed as my orderly. Later he was cited for gallantry twice, and eventually sent to the officers' school, where he got a commission, and asked to be returned to the fighting troops. He fell in action just before the armistice. Private "Bill" Margeas was a Greek who came with this lot. He was shot through the chest at Montdidier, and later ran away from the hospital and got back before Soissons. He came in to report to me. I had been near him when he had been hit before.
"Margeas," I said, "you're in no shape to carry a pack."
"No, sir," said he, "but I can carry a rifle all right."
He was killed later in the Argonne.
Two Chinamen, Young and Chew, drafted from San Francisco, were also in this lot. They were with my headquarters all during the war.
These replacements had absolutely no conception of military etiquette. They wanted to do what was right, but they didn't know anything. When one man from a western National Guard regiment—incidentally he was a German by birth—came up to me with a message from his company commander, he would always begin with, "Say." One time I asked him when he was born and he told me in 1848, which impressed me as being a slight overstatement. Subsequent investigation proved that 1878 was the year. Incidentally he fought very gallantly, and was fortunate enough to get through the war, being with the regiment when I left it in Germany.
One huge fellow called Swanson, from North Dakota, turned up. Swanson was a fine soldier in every way, but the government had not figured on a man of Swanson's size. Never when he was in my command were we able to get a blouse to fit him. He turned out on parade, went to the trenches, and appeared on all other occasions in a ragged brown sweater.