Here, accentuated by the glories of nature, was the horror of war and the awful proof of the degradation of humanity—despite its so-called Christian civilization.
Graves and danger and death. Death over head, death under foot, death in every direction—suffering, loneliness, longing, agony, death—Death! But the greedy fiends really responsible were not there. And a sort of awe came over me and a feeling of tender pity for those brave, unselfish men, mere boys, many of them, standing silently, majestically—facing death in those front line trenches.
Time passed quickly, for like all officers of our army who entered the lines, regardless of previous training, I had very much to learn. There was so much to wonder and think about, too, for my job took me to all parts of our sector and necessitated a careful study of the enemy. For example, I had soon noticed that the men of units occupying the most dangerous positions and suffering the greatest inconvenience and strain seemed most care free and calm. There was an expression on their faces, an atmosphere about them that had not been there during the training period behind the lines. This opened great fields for thought, and I’m still thinking.
Then one day, before I realized that it was time, I saw little groups of blue-clad soldiers—the soldiers of France, standing about in Denipere, and on the roads I saw more little groups; next day there were more, and the following morning, as though it had happened by magic, I found the entire position, front lines and all, occupied and held by those quiet, tired-faced, sturdy heroes of France. The boys of our Fifth Division had moved out during the night. The following night my regiment moved in. The French infantry left several days later when we had become established in our position. A short time after that I was placed in command of our Second Battalion, holding the center sector called C. R. Fontinelle.
The day I took command the enemy put over one of his famous raids. For two and one-half hours he laid a heavy concentrated fire on the Second Battalion’s front line system, then changed it into an almost perfect box barrage around the two front companies and jumped us through our left flank. The raiding was done by one of their notorious, specially-trained shock battalions sent to the sector for that purpose. By excellent work on the part of the two front companies and the support company assisted by a company of engineers, they were soon driven out. They managed to drag most of their dead and wounded with them, but left considerable equipment including several machine guns they had brought over and set up in our trenches.
It would take all evening to tell about that one action, or Fontinelle Raid, alone. There is so much I could tell you about my Battalion, funny things, as well as serious, to say nothing of our Division or the French soldiers and people and what not, that I hardly know what to tell.
But I do know we haven’t much time so I think we’ll make a long jump, skipping things equally interesting, the bombardments, the patrols, the raids, the experiences and trials at Fontinelle, then the hard marches, the sleepless, shelterless nights in cold rain and mud, the hardships of the Argonne and our part during the early days of that famous American drive, our tiresome movement from that front and our taking over from the French on the night of October 6th and 7th of C. R. Musson, an important section of the Marbache sector’s front, on the east bank of the Moselle River just south and a little west of Metz.
I’ll pass over the many interesting and trying happenings and experiences of the thirty-one straight days—intense, nerve-racking days and nights that we occupied that position, and take it up a few days before the armistice, or just before the preliminary to the long-talked of drive for Metz. I’ll only have time to tell you briefly of a small part of that, but perhaps you may gain some faint realization of how the boys fought and suffered and won.
First, just a few words to show you the way in which the Ninety-second Division had taken over and held the Marbace sector. At three o’clock on the morning of October 6th, after marching all night, the Second Battalion of the Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth Infantry arrived at Aton, a village about three miles behind the front lines. All that day I spent at the front with the commander of the French battalion then holding the C. R. During the afternoon my officers and part of the non-coms. came up and went over the positions assigned them. That night we stealthily moved in and the French moved out.