Wednesday, September 25th, dawned a bright fall day. About 10 A. M. Lt. Cressman, the regimental chaplain, came up. Winemiller, Cole, Cheery-O, and Slover went with us to bury our three comrades. We turned over their personal belongings to the chaplain, wrapped each poor mangled body in a blanket, and laid them side by side in the shallow graves—the best we had been able to dig. The chaplain read the burial service, while an occasional shell tore through the air far overhead. Then we filled in the graves. It was hard on our over-strained nerves, and when we got through most of us were crying more or less. We hadn’t as yet seen so much as one of the enemy to shoot at; it was all such a hopeless, dreadful, ghastly business. Winemiller and Cole made three little crosses and set them up at the head of the graves.
At 2:30 P. M. a message came up for Capt. Fleischmann and myself to report at once to Btn. Hdq. We set out together wondering what was up; leaving Lts. Hultzen and Schuyler in command.
We reported to Major Odom, who was studying his battle map by the light of a couple of candles. Louis Foulkes greeted us on the side and slipped me a couple of cigars.
After a few minutes, the Major took out his Bull Durham and started rolling a cigarette, saying:
“I have a little problem for your companies to do tomorrow morning,” quite as he had been saying any afternoon for the past year. Then he went on to explain.
The great Argonne drive was to begin the next morning. It was to be a surprise attack, preceded by only a couple of hours’ artillery preparation. We were to make a demonstration, a sham attack, with the object of keeping the enemy guessing for a few hours as to where the real blow was to fall, and so to delay his concentration of troops to meet the main drive.
The 312th Inf. on our left, and the 90th Div. on our right, were to advance several kilos. We were to advance about half a kilo, to approximately the line 368.3-243.4; 369.5-242.3. This line we were to hold, and the units on our flanks were gradually to fall back and re-establish the outpost line on us as a guide. We would have no barrage, but there would be an hour of concentration fire—that is, our artillery would shell points in the sector of the advance like crossroads, probable strong points, battery positions, etc.
Zero hour was 5:30 A. M. At that moment we were to cut loose with all our small arms fire. The battalion scouts had reported that there were no Germans for 500 meters to the front, but this Fourth of July stuff was to get the enemy’s wind up.
The arrangements for supplies and liaison were soon made. We had had no chance to use any ammunition, and about all we asked for was water and food.
Foulkes said that orders had arrived at Regtl. Hdq. detailing me to report to the Army School of the Line at Langres on Oct. 1st. I thought of the men we had buried that morning, and reflected grimly that I should probably not matriculate.