At 2:30 A. M. our fire opened up in earnest and the thought of being on the receiving end of that terrific rain of steel was almost enough to cause a little pity for the Germans—almost. With the coming of dawn the artillery seemed to slacken and at 6:05 the doughboys went over the top. Little could be seen through the haze and smoke by those who waited. We could see the groups of airplanes go sailing overhead and the elephant-shaped observation balloons move snail-like in a race to the enemy lines. While the big guns were methodically sending over their "messages of hate," here and there could be seen groups of horses nibbling unconcernedly at the trampled grass, while their drivers were wrapped up in shelter halves catching a well earned rest.
After a reconnaissance had been made, we received the order from our Director of Ambulances, Maj. Wm. Gist, to advance. We piled into the trucks again and started forward. The effects of Jerry's fire could now be seen. The large shell holes, the demolished trees, the shattered buildings, were beginning to make us realize that we were fighting some force that had the power to fight back. We passed through several ruined villages and finally reached Neuvilly, which was the end of the road for motors at that time. Here we unloaded and were heavily equipped with litters, packs, medicine belts and extra shell wound dressings.
The plan of operations was quite simple. The company was divided into sections, each under an officer, and each section further divided into litter squads of four men each. The non-coms were charged with locating wounded and directing litter squads to them, and also with doing most of the dressing. The wounded were to be gathered into groups located so that ambulances could reach and evacuate them to the triage which was established later in the day at Neuvilly, by Ambulance Company 138. The entire company, less cooks, took to the field and the cooks, by trading grub for transportation, managed to keep in touch with part of us part of the time.
Lieut. Bates with his section covered the rear of the 137th Infantry which was on the left. Lieut. Siberts with a detachment, bore to the right, covering the 138th Infantry, while Lieut. Monteith, with his detachment undertook to handle some wounded who were already coming into the old position of the 138th Infantry. Lt. Speck with Sgt. Rowland and a few men remained at Vacquois Hill and established a collecting station for wounded there.
As the men marched thru the lines the evidences of the superhuman struggle grew more and more. They could see dead horses, shattered wagons and caissons, trampled and torn up wire entanglements, and ambulances darting here and there. Groups of artillery were constantly shifting about, advancing all the time.
In places we passed the long naval guns, some of them so hot that they seemed to be fairly panting. Every clump of trees concealed a den of seventy-fives or larger guns, and miles of deserted trenches were passed through.
The work on hand was enough to keep all the men busy. Many German prisoners were coming through by this time and each group helped by carrying back wounded. Some of the German wounded were brought back in this way by their comrades. By this time, also, a shortage of litters began to be felt. The ambulances had not been able to get up owing to the blocking of the roads by artillery which was moving forward. Towards evening ambulances began to come in to Vacquois, and Hill No. 290. The last load of wounded had been removed by about 4:00 A. M., the next morning. Meanwhile, Lt. Siberts had reached Cheppy, close on the heels of the victorious 138th Infantry and collected a large number of wounded there.
In crossing the German trenches, we saw the effects of our artillery barrage and the evidences of the fierce fighting that the doughboys were doing. The ground was fairly pulverized. There were shell holes large enough to drop houses into, and parts of the hills were seemingly scalped and cast aside. Concrete dugouts were crushed as if they had been made of cardboard, trenches were leveled and barbwire entanglements were cut to pieces. The Germans had contested the ground inch by inch, and we could see where groups of our men had been literally blown to pieces—scenes that the boys will never forget. As we advanced further, the evidences of the struggle were not so ghastly, although we were passing the lifeless forms of many Kansas and Missouri boys mixed with those of the drab uniforms of the enemy.
The field was sprinkled with shell holes whose burnt sides seem to have been blasted by the touch of hell. Our artillery was crawling forward and were blazing away from behind the shelter of clumps of bushes. The doughboys were now moving so swiftly that the big guns could hardly keep up.
As we neared Cheppy, we could see where the infantry boys had charged an almost impregnable machine gun nest. About thirty men had been mowed down in front of this position. At a cross roads, a big shell had landed in the center of a collection of wounded doughboys, tearing them to pieces. Gas had been used, but nothing could stop the boys from entering Cheppy. The fierce struggle in this town had caused heavy casualties.