From the diary of Sgt. Karl McCune, 55th Company, 5th Regiment of Marines:

"During the afternoon of the 9th of June, 1917, the regiment was assembled and marched to the transports in the navy yard at Philadelphia. Sixteen hundred men crowded aboard the Hancock, already loaded to the gunwales with supplies. Close, stuffy quarters below were allotted to the company, but few decided to sleep there. Everywhere possible on the deck Marines made their bunks.

"It wasn't until Monday the 11th that the transport shoved off. All companies fell in on deck, facing inboard, and remained at attention while the band played 'The Star Spangled Banner'. About fifty women, wives of officers and sailors, waved goodbye from the dock. We were off.

"The Hancock proceeded slowly down the Delaware; nothing stirred either on the Jersey or Pennsylvania shore. A cool, gentle breeze blew sleepily down from the Jersey side. It was summer and the weather ideal.

"Just as the Hancock neared the Delaware Bay, a wall of fog settled over the waters. The Bay was barely visible from the deck; fog horns and sirens at regular intervals sounded warning to all ships of their danger. About 10.00 A.M. the De Kalb, formerly the Eitel Friedrich, hove down upon us. Sirens screeched unceasingly until, a few minutes later, the vague outline of the De Kalb passed us by, missing our bow by a matter of feet. All that day the Hancock rode at anchor for her engines were temporarily disabled. At about 6.00 P.M. she weighed anchor and proceeded up the Jersey shore to join the fleet at New York.

"At two o'clock in the morning word was passed among the men to pack and stand by to leave. Hastily the sea-bags, equipment, and all company property were brought on deck. At about 5.00 A.M. the motor launches aboard the Hancock were let loose from their davits and the task of transshipping began. At 10.00 A.M. the battalion had been transported to the Henderson. It was rumored among the men that we were to be granted twenty-four hours in New York, but our hopes were unfounded. Having nothing better to do, we leaned over the rail and gazed upon the Statue of Liberty, far off to the right. Warships were plying about the harbor; several lay at anchor. A feeling of lonesomeness stole into our hearts at the thought that we must leave all this—our friends, our homes and our futures; but the spirit of the great adventure soon took hold of us, and we began to think of the great time we would have in France.

"At twelve noon of the 14th, without any warning other than a blast of the siren, the Henderson put out to sea. About ten miles out was the rest of the fleet, composed of the De Kalb, Finland, St. Louis and one other transport. The Seattle, three destroyers, and one converted yacht escorted the fleet. The voyage was now begun in earnest.

"The Seattle hove to the fore, with the Henderson leading the transports. At first the fleet proceeded slowly on her way, but during the night gathered speed on its silent journey to 'somewhere'.

"On board the Henderson everyone that could remained on deck and gazed westward as long as land was visible. Few had anything to say; no one, other than the Admiral of the Fleet, knew where we were going, but we could all hazard a guess. Marines were immediately posted in the crow's nest, on the bridge, at the bow, and at the stern of the ship with orders to report everything afloat that came within their vision. The gunners took their post at the guns. The ship was now ready for any marauding U-boat. . . .

"The following day general quarters was sounded and all companies fell in at their stations. Life boats and rafts were assigned to each company, and the men drilled in getting to them quickly without any noise or undue haste. This drill occurred daily, and when we neared the danger zone, twice daily. Life belts were distributed, and when nine days out orders were given that they be worn at all times. In addition to the general alarms, all companies exercised daily for one hour on deck. These, for the most part, consisted of Swedish exercises, games, and deep breathing. Another feature of the daily events was the target practice engaged in by both marines and sailor gun crews. This drill was watched with keen interest by the men, for on the accuracy of the gun crews depended their safety in the event of their meeting with a U-boat. During the hours that were unoccupied, the men watched the maneuvers of the accompanying destroyers and battleships which changed their position continually in order that no wily 'sub' should pass beyond their path, or listened to the band that played twice daily, at noon and in the evening, to relieve the monotony of the trip. Three or four times on the voyage the engines of the Henderson became disabled, compelling the ship to drop behind the fleet. The crew managed to keep up with the fleet, however, and on the tenth day out we were met by a flotilla of American destroyers, who cruised about us on both flanks, keeping a sharp eye for submarines that infested that region. That day occurred the only scare of the voyage. About 10.00 A.M. a destroyer dropped a shell on a strange object that lay about five thousand yards port of the Henderson, causing it to explode. It was a floating mine that had found its way out to sea, but, fortunately, did no damage. General quarters was sounded, but there was no cause for alarm. The destroyers cruised about at high speed searching for U-boats which were suspected to be near.

"The morning of the 26th found us just outside the harbor of St. Nazaire. Two or three French destroyers were awaiting us and escorted the ship to the mouth of the Harbor. . . . We saw crafts of different nations lying at anchor, and, near the Esplanade at St. Nazaire, the aluminum skeleton of an unfortunate dirigible that had been brought down some time before. . . .

"The Henderson docked and everybody wanted to leave. . . . Our supply ship, the Hancock, had not yet arrived, so we were compelled to make the ship our camp until her arrival. Liberty ashore was not granted the first night.

"The following day all companies were assembled on the dock and marched to a beach about four or five kilometers away. Passing through St. Nazaire, ample opportunity was afforded us to observe the French soldiers lounging about, and the civilians who gathered about the Esplanade. Dark bewhiskered veterans of Verdun and the Marne walking arm in arm with their demoiselles, or sitting on benches, watched our passing column with a languid interest. . . .

"About the 2d of July the Hancock arrived and docked. Immediately began the task of unloading. Working as hard as they knew how, the unloading was completed by noon, July 4th. By noon of this day the entire battalion had left the Henderson and was now encamped outside of St. Nazaire."

The following description of the trenches in the Troyon sector is given by Captain Roy C. Hilton, U.S.A., who served with the Machine Gun Company, 9th Infantry:

"The trenches, being prepared for long service, were supplied with duck boards for the floors and sand bags for the parapets. . . . Doors to dugouts opened into the trenches and were well reinforced as were the trenches themselves with timber. The dugouts were constructed to accommodate from ten to fifty men, depending on the importance of the particular part of the trench. Bunks were built with one section above another in the dugouts. . . . The depth of the dugout was from ten to forty feet. Nearly all dugouts were infested with lice, better known to Americans as 'cooties'. The soldiers' opinion of these little creatures expressed mathematically was 'They added to the soldiers' troubles, subtracted from his pleasure, divided his attention, and multiplied like Hell'. There was difficulty in bringing up food and supplies through the trenches. Some companies had burros, and it was interesting to see these small animals moving along in the trenches, with a large can of stew on one side balanced by a large can of coffee on the other."

Captain Wendell Westover, 4th MG Bn, describes in "Suicide Battalions" his first view of the Verdun Sector, from which the following is extracted:

"We dismounted near battalion headquarters and proceeded through deep trenches, well equipped with 'duck boards', to a deep draw which ran parallel with the lines. On the east side were row after row of dugouts cut into the steep reverse slope and well protected with beams and rocks. Here were the first-aid stations and headquarters of the companies of the sector. . . .

"We arrived before the dugout of the French captain commanding the machine guns of the sector and he bade us enter. Here we found real chairs, real tables; a stove, a cupboard, a bed with springs and a mattress, electric lights, and boarded floors. Overhead were beams and rock six feet deep that would stop anything but a direct hit from the largest guns. On the walls hung a large-scale map of the sector with the details of the sector marked upon it. The French commander pointed out our position and the location of the various units of his company. Then, with the party divided into pairs in order not to attract undue attention if seen by the enemy observers, we reconnoitered the sector held by the battalion and supported by his machine guns.

"The second line trenches held four guns having fields of fire which enfiladed the ground ahead of the front lines. They were all protected by overhead cover, and deep front and side cover, making satisfactory `splinter proofs' which were safe against fragments of shell. Direct hits, especially on the six inches of earth and rock above them, would naturally put them out of commission. But the emplacements were artfully camouflaged. . . .

"We passed across a firing trench, and then through a winding communication trench which led us to the front lines. Here sentries were posted at frequent intervals with rifles at ready and grenades at hand. Dugouts for the men were deep in the hill; stairs to reach the lower rooms going down thirty or forty feet below the surface. The hills were barren, torn, upheaved, blasted by shell of all calibers. Not a trace remained of the woods which earlier covered the hills. Wire and chevaux de frise were thick in front of the position.

"We visited an observation post. Shedding our trench coats, helmets, and gas masks, we borrowed those of some French poilus in a shelter trench near at hand. It would not do to have the American uniform observed. A sergeant led us two at a time through a shallow communicating trench, through the wire, and out into No Man's Land to the observation post where two poilus were stationed day and night. Straightening up, we looked across a great shell hole some forty feet deep, and saw on the other side a German observation post with the double sentries visible to their waists. . . .

"Unbelievable that they should remain thus, day after day, and stay inactive. But one or two less combatants meant nothing to the war. reached under my long blue coat for my forty-five. An easy shot. 'Non, non! S'il vous plait! Prenez-garde, mon lieutenant.' The sergeant excitedly prevented hostilities.

"One German seemed to sense the debate. He held up his hand, raised five fingers, and shook his head, growing suspicious of the unusual number there. We turned and crawled back to the front line."

Extracts from diary of Lieutenant Marvin H. Taylor, 23d Inf.:

"Last night a patrol was sent out from the platoon in support with Hayward and Sheeran in charge. The chief purpose was to inspect our wire and incidentally to pick up any information of the enemy they could. As it was the first patrol that has been in front of our men, there was a bit of apprehension about their holding their fire when a noise might be heard or a shadow seen in front of our line. Each man was told exactly what was going to be done; but the difficulty was to be sure they all understood, for there are some men in my platoon that can scarcely speak English. I called Louie Larsen, my platoon sergeant, in and explained the seriousness of the business to him, and he assured me that no one in this platoon would shoot while the patrol was in front. About the time the patrol was scheduled to start I called Larsen and made an inspection of the men on the firing step to determine that each one actually understood the situation. About half way down the line I encountered Private Sazinus, a homely, pockmarked little fellow, not much over five feet tall and of an undetermined nationality. He was standing crouched in a most tense posture, his rifle clutched in his hands, his face just even with the parapet. I asked him if he knew what was going on in front of us and he said he did. I asked if he understood he was not to shoot unless ordered so to do by the sergeant or myself and he answered that he did, but not once did his gaze leave the front nor his figure relax. As we passed on Sergeant Larsen confided to me the reason why Sazinus would not shoot while the patrol was out. 'Sure and I didn't know whether the little Rooshen devil knew what I told him or not so to make safe I took all his ammunition off'n him and I says "Sazinus, there ain't nothing betwixt you and hell but that bayonet and if you see any dirty German this night you got to run that there knife clean through him." '

"The patrol was out the scheduled time and not a shot was fired from my platoon."

"When the time came for us to leave the trenches for a rest I was again sent ahead to billet the battalion in a village some few miles from Genicourt. There seems to be a sort of procedure connected with this billeting detail which I was just getting the details of and I find it works quite well; I had to use strong-arm methods at Genicourt but I suppose I did not have the combination. The billeting officer reaches the town and goes immediately to the office of the Major-de-Cantonement and there follows a very pompous ceremony in which the billeting officer tells the Major-de-Cantonement how perfectly splendid the French soldiery are, how gallant and fearless. He then tells me how wonderful are the Americans, how tall and broad shouldered, what a magnificent spirit they possess. Then to show me that at heart he is not such a bad fellow, though an awful prevaricator, he opens some wine and over the glasses I produce my list and we get to work. First, the map of the town is scrutinized and the general allotment of the units is made, then each house is inspected and the number of men which it is estimated each house will accommodate is determined. With me there is a non-commissioned officer from each unit and he marks the buildings allotted to his outfit and familiarizes himself with them, for he will guide his men in and quite probably do so in the middle of the night. I place the officers in the cleanest looking places nearest the center of the territory to be occupied by their respective commands and then scurry about for some blankets, for as we are from several hours to a day or so ahead of the battalion, I have nothing but the contents of my musette bag. When the time for the arrival of the troops comes we meet them at the edge of town and I conduct the Major to his quarters and report the general layout. I must know the sources of water supply, the location of ammunition dumps and of bombardment dugouts the signals adopted in that village to announce gas attacks and aeroplane raids. I must know the disposition of the guard and must have chosen a place to be used as a guardhouse and must go on as officer of the day the first tour that I may place the sentries. It is most fascinating."

From the memoirs of Pvt. Frank Hodson, Btry. "F", 15th FA:

"Apr. 6. I was ordered to report for active duty at the guns. As we rode along on the caissons we talked and wondered just how soon we would see action and what our chances were for coming home alive. The darkness was intense at one o'clock in the morning when we reached the gun positions. The guns were in pits covered with about six feet of tree-trunks, iron girders, earth and stone, camouflaged from German airplanes. Only the muzzles were seen. As we came up the hill the lieutenant met us with a flashlight, and we noticed he was very careful to keep his light sheltered from view. He told us that we would open fire at five in the morning and casually dropped the remark that we were likely to have Merry Hell when we did so. We were warned to have our gas suits in readiness as a gas attack was expected. Well, we got ready all right and then began carrying ammunition from our caissons to the subterranean store house. Then we entered our dugout and went to sleep. Scarcely two hours had passed before I was awakened by a thundering noise. I went up the steps and saw our battery blazing away in the darkness. Never having seen war before, the picture that met my eye was one I shall long remember—the flames shooting from the gun muzzles seemed to me, a rookie, like Hell incarnate. Our fire was being answered; shells were bursting all around us, they burst even on the tops of the gun pits and only the thick logs and iron beams saved the men. Great trees were mowed down like grass and their trunks blocked the paths everywhere.

"Apr. 21. During the night I was on lookout to watch for a three-flare signal from our infantry, meaning the Germans were attacking and the infantry needed supporting fire. Then someone yelled—`Gas!' We ducked for safety—about forty of us—and made a wild grab for our masks. The officer in command ordered us to our dugouts until the fumes disappeared. We ducked for safety and landed in a tiny dugout, huddled together in the darkness. Having masks on we couldn't speak and were so crowded we couldn't move. Here we spent a mighty uncomfortable half hour. When we came above ground and as I was pulling a rope attached to a gun I stumbled into a shell hole. With the next breath I fell almost unconscious from gas which still lingered in the hole. As I dropped I made frantic efforts to adjust my mask, but too late. The next I remember I was being supported by two comrades towards a first aid station."

From the memoirs of Corp. Frank W. Anderson, Company "M", 23d Infantry, of experiences in the Verdun Sector:

"On March 16th, 1918 we started out on the old cattle cars and entrained at the town of Bourmont about three miles from our camp. A brief description of our trains might not be amiss at this time. Before the war these cars had been used for cattle. They have two wheels on a side placed near the center and when moving the car has a rocking motion in consequence. There is a large sliding door on each side of the center of the car. On the outside near the door is painted the sign reading 'Hommes 40—Chevaux 8'. One doughboy when he first saw the sign, and probably having baseball in mind, said: 'I don't know the teams, but it is a rotten score.' It might have comfortably held forty French but with us it was a case of lying two deep.

"After we were all packed into the cars we waited an hour before the engine could get up steam enough to pull us out, then the whistle blew several times and the dinky engine used all the steam it had. . . . We rode all day and night of the 16th and until noon of the 17th. This being St. Patrick's Day we all had our green on. Perhaps you wonder how we managed to get hold of anything green when we were riding all the time. The train ran so slowly most of the time that it was possible to jump off and on again.

"We detrained and slipped over to American box cars driven by an American Baldwin locomotive over American gauge tracks. Boy! We were glad to see all of these things from home. . . . We rode for about fifteen miles through country where the Fritz had once been; everything was shot to pieces. There wasn't a thing to be seen except patches of green grass. A lone tree stood here and there devoid of all branches; the earth was all dug up from shells, and where houses once stood there was nothing but tumbled-down walls.

"Now we set out on a hike that was a test for any man. . . . I was carrying a full pack on my back that weighed about fifty pounds, a belt full of ammunition and grenades, a musette bag containing ammunition and clips for the Chau-Chau gun. Altogether, I carried about a hundred pounds. The weather was very warm, the road dusty, and there were many hills. We covered about twenty-five kilometers. My feet were all swollen and my body sore all over. I was assigned to a barn for my home while we remained there. About twenty of the boys were here with me, others were billeted in other barns, houses, or in huge dugouts in the side of a high hill. I immediately took off my shoes, opened my pack, took out a blanket which I laid on the floor, and went to sleep. I was too tired to bother about anything to eat.

"I awoke the next morning very refreshed, having slept soundly in spite of my hard bed and many rats. . . . After a good breakfast, I began to look around and inquired where we were. It was a little town called Genicourt on the Meuse River, about thirty miles from Verdun. . . .

"Though the Germans could not drop high explosive shells upon us, they did the best they could and every once in a while a shell would come screaming over just above our heads and land in the garden of some house on the outskirts of the town. Some of them even took off the ridge poles of the houses. Those gunners were as accurate as it was humanly possible to be. They were always taking shots at two pontoon bridges that spanned the river close by, and the shots hit several times. It seemed that every time a detachment was to cross the bridge they were aware of the fact and sent over a barrage.

"A narrow-gauge railroad ran from the town to the front lines and there was a large ammunition dump near the railroad. Regularly every day the Boche tried to drop shells on the railroad. . . .

"I suppose the reader is wondering if the shells frightened us. I can't say that I saw anyone of the boys frightened or nervous. This was our baptism of fire and only made us more anxious to get to the front and see what it was like there.

"Came the day when the first battalion marched to the front. As usual this movement took place at night. The next day as the ambulances returned from the front we were all on our toes to see if any of our boys were in them. The French brought back their maimed and wounded, but that seemed natural; now the boys in khaki were being wounded. The Red Cross man in charge of the canteen made daily trips to the front and we kept him very busy with questions. He explained that there was no fighting at the front, but as we were the first Americans to enter the line, the Germans were trying to break down our morale with a heavy barrage every once in a while.

"In the meanwhile my company was not loafing on the job. Every night we started out towards the front loaded, not with packs and guns, but with picks and shovels. When we arrived two miles from the front lines we set to work digging what were called 'outline trenches'. Army engineers had mapped out beforehand the location of these. It was our work to follow the maps, drive stakes, lay out lines, and dig. We went into the earth only four inches with the idea that should the Germans break through in a drive, our men could dig deeper and make a stand here. Sometimes we went during the day to dig, and although we were only two miles from the town, hostile planes bothered us so much that it was impossible to get any digging done, as we had to first camouflage the trench and then run for the woods. The hostile planes were very daring and advanced over Allied territory inviting attacks from French planes and anti-aircraft guns. . . .

"Just after dark on April 2d, my company started for the front line trenches, Captain Joe Green in command and Lieut. Alband in charge of my platoon. . . . Of course there was mud; there always is. We marched along singing and laughing. Three miles from the front lines the mud became deeper and we passed several ruined towns. When we were half a mile from the reserve trenches, shrapnel came over and barely cleared the column, bursting and throwing their deadly steel balls into the woods by the side of the road. Let me say right now that our boys passed through this shelling like real men. In a few minutes we arrived at the entrance to the communication trench running into the front line trenches. A French officer was here to receive us, and it was decided that our third and fourth platoons would go into the front line, and the first and second into reserve trenches. I was in the first as corporal of the auto-rifle squad. . . . We passed through what seemed to be miles and miles of trenches, up and down hill, through mud and water about two feet deep.

"Arriving at the front line, we were cautioned to be very quiet, and the guide led us to the auto-rifle post. He led us into our dugouts and showed us our bunks. There would be eight hours in the trench and then eight hours off for each relief, which was half American and French. He also explained the French system of challenging. The U. S. Army system was for a countersign to be passed around every twenty-four hours, a word, usually the name of some state or city in America. If I am a sentinel and some one approaches, I bring my pistol or rifle to position and call out, 'Halt, who's there?' The party approaching halts and answers 'Friend.' I would then say, 'Advance, friend, and give the countersign.' The party then advances and whispers the countersign to me. In the French Army, instead of a word they use a number. Take seven for an example. A French soldier on halting you would call out `three,' and the person halted would answer 'four,' as four and three are seven. We had to do some quick thinking when we were halted as they called their numbers in French and we had to answer in the same language.

"After the French corporal explained these things to us we turned in for a few hours rest. The dugout was built into the front wall of the trench with a dozen steps leading down into the sleeping quarters. . . . It was never necessary to dress when you came out, as you never took your clothes off. We were called out while it was still dark and we stumbled up into the trench, half asleep. The French corporal told us to take our posts assigned when we first arrived. . . .

"The next morning as we came out into the trench for the alert, as this movement is called, the Boche sent over a furious barrage with trench mortars, cannon and machine guns. We were all excited and thought they were coming over and we would have some hand-to-hand fighting. We were confident because of our extensive bayonet training that we would be able to beat him off. Our artillery and machine guns now added to the noise. One of our machine gun posts was directly behind our position, so we were uncomfortably close to the bullets from our own guns. My auto-rifle post had sheet steel as a roof and when I entered the post to take a look-out over No Man's Land I could hear bullets hitting the steel. The French corporal told me that the barrage extended along the entire American front and that they would make a raid at some place. The 9th Infantry was on our left.

"All the men in the trench were supposed to be on the alert, though there was an exception. If the barrage was very heavy, and the officers in command of the company thought there was no chance of a raid against him in his particular sector, all but one or two men in each post retired into the dugout. This was to prevent unnecessary loss of life. During this firing most of the men at my post went into the dugout, three staying behind as a watch. I had climbed up to the top of the trench to get a good view, when the French non-commissioned officer came out himself. He asked me how I liked the sound of the bullets whistling over my head and the shells screaming through the air. I told him that I was enjoying the experience. He said that I was really in no danger except from a stray bullet, and he encouraged me to stay where I was. At eight o'clock at night the front was quiet; three men in the company had been seriously injured by an exploding shell in the reserve trench. The kitchen was set up about half a mile back of the front lines. Here the chow was put into large tins with air-tight covers, and a long stick of wood was passed through a ring and with a man on each end of the stick the chow was brought up to us. The French had a small mug of rum with their meals; Uncle Sam, of course, did not give us anything stronger than weak coffee.

"During the day I made myself acquainted with the trench, walking about half a mile on each side of our post. At intervals of about twenty yards the front wall of the trench was shelved-out to hold a couple of dozen hand grenades. I studied the barbed wire entanglements both to our front and rear and it was hard to see how any one could get through that maze of wire without getting all torn."

The following account of the march of the Machine Gun Company, 23d Infantry, toward Meaux, written by Sgt. Bernard J. McCrossen, is typical. This company began the march at 7.00 P.M., May 31st.

"Eventually we got off and started our long and tedious hike. We shall remember that night and that march for years to come. The road was jammed with transportation—column after column we passed. Town after town we passed through. No one knew what their names were. All we knew was that we were headed toward Meaux, wherever in Hell that was. In the distance we could see flashes of exploding bombs dropped by hostile avions and occasional fires resulting from them, so that the sky would be lit up with the reflection. On we went. We saw the moon rise and set. As daylight came we saw what a funny looking bunch we were, white with dust from head to foot. . . . The feet of many of the men were beginning to blister and others were beginning to tire; but no one fell out, all had the determination to stick and see the show.

"At eight o'clock in the morning of June 1st we had covered 48 kilometers and marched for almost twelve hours straight with occasionally the usual ten minutes halt. At 8.30 we halted just beyond l'Isle Adam and had a bite to eat, consisting of a boiled potato, a piece of bacon and coffee. The feet of the men were bandaged up and at 10.30 we were again in the road and did not halt until 4.00 o'clock. We made camp for the night along the road near Luzarches, had some supper, and Doc. Blye, one of the gamest little surgeons that ever lived, as later events proved, fixed up the men's feet.

"We had covered over 84 kilometers since we began our march 17 hours before, with only two hours rest. Translated into English this means that we had with practically uninterrupted marching covered about fifty miles.

"The 2d Division, while near Beauvais expecting to move to the front possessed a delousing plant, so large that it resembled a threshing machine, consisting of an enormous boiler mounted upon great iron wheels. This plant was under the personal direction of 'Arkansas Pete'. When orders arrived for the division to move without delay towards Meaux, Pete sought in vain for a railway flat car; but he found that the French had left him out in their calculations. However, being a man of resources, he went through the French town with a cart, collecting coal which he stored into his plant. Then he fired the boiler to its maximum capacity, blew three piercing blasts with his whistle, and started full speed down the main street directly on the road to Paris. His perilous passage, running at not less than ten knots an hour, spread consternation among the country people. As he thundered along the highway, blowing his whistle to clear traffic, children ran in terror, peasants retreated to their homes and cattle stampeded. The great iron monster careened like a billiard ball off St. Denis, just missing the Royal Tombs, and started down the highway to Meaux. While passing through a quiet village, it happened that; a highly respected French shopkeeper had just closed his store after a busy day and climbed up the stairway into his living apartments over the shop, hoping to enjoy an evening of rest. Unfortunately, just at this moment 'Arkansas Pete' arrived; and his delousing plant, skidding at a sudden turn, completely demolished the shop and sent the shopkeeper and his wife high in the air, landing them in a nearby fish pond. Numbers of German observation planes, their pilots astonished at this curious sight, flew low as if to observe in detail this strange smoking contrivance, then suddenly changed their course towards the headquarters of the German High Command where they undoubtedly reported that a new and terrible tank was on its way to the front. 'Arkansas Pete' never stopped, not even at Meaux, where he obstructed traffic and blocked the French army headquarters from reaching Trilport. Late that night, the plant, vomiting flames and smoke, drew up, its boiler heated to a fiery red; and a weary quartermaster, aroused from his sleep, was amazed to see 'Arkansas Pete' reporting for duty, ready for any delousing emergency."

From the diary of 1st Lieut. Elmer Hess, MCR, 15th Field Artillery, about the march to May-en-Multien on May 31, 1918:

"Finally we arrived at the town of Nanteuil-le-Haudouin where we were told to detrain. The village station was certainly a sight for the gods. One might have thought the Germans were coming down the road by the enormous clouds of dust which could be seen. The station was filled with women, children and very old men, sitting upon piles of household goods, waiting for the next train to Paris, which the stationmaster told them would never come; and too thoroughly exhausted to go any farther, they sat there in silent grief.

"When our animals, guns and other belongings were unloaded, the train pulled back to the rear. Over our heads airships with a little black cross, indicating that they were Germans, hovered, and once in a while dropped small bombs upon us at this village and at other villages along the railroad, trying to stop the detraining of troops. Down the road out of these clouds of dust came no Germans nor retreating French soldiers but thousands of women, children, old men, mules and cattle, with carts piled high with household goods, fleeing from the invader.

"The battery started marching up the road; Major Bailey left in his side car to try to gather up the rest of his batteries that had detrained previously at other villages or were now detraining somewhere along the line.

"The road was lined with refugees. Old women pushing wheelbarrows, with a few personal rags and a pen of chickens or rabbits on it. Two-wheeled carts, the type used almost entirely by the French farmer, —great cumbersome things, loaded with hay, a few personal belongings, one to ten children. A couple of old women drawn by three horses, one behind the other. Tied to the rear are usually a donkey or some cows, occasionally a flock of sheep or some dogs. I saw not one such party but literally thousands of them. The women and children do not cry—they are beyond the crying stage, but the agony at leaving their homes is written all over their faces. Even the dumb animals plodding along with them have the same look. . . .

"June 1st, we marched up the road to Lizy and halted in the evening, tired, dusty and dirty, and bivouacked in the town. On a corner was a lone French woman who had remained to feed the retreating French soldiers with whom the town was filled. Stragglers and infantrymen in great confusion, wearing the horizon-blue of the French, dragged themselves to the rear. An entire regiment of French field artillery galloped through the town towards the rear carrying their wounded.

"The battalion moved again to the front. The left side of the road was filled with trucks, ammunition, retreating French soldiers, field hospitals—all in great confusion. We marched until midnight with practically no rest and on into the morning. We could hear the songs sung by the American artillery marching ahead. . . .

"We remained in this position for two days and nights, and during our stay discovered back in the woods an old Frenchman and his wife living in a little shack which they had laboriously built, and where they did some gardening and kept a cow, thinking they were safe from the advancing Germans. I discovered them late at night while trying to find a safe place to put our horses. Accidentally, we stumbled across the path that led to the door of their shack, and seeing a light oozing from the cracks, we went to investigate. Spies, was our first thought. We pushed the door open, and there on their knees were the old couple in all likelihood praying for deliverance from the Germans. When they saw us they immediately climbed up and crawled into bed, seemingly perfectly satisfied that they were safe for the time being at least. We left them alone, and when we moved out a night later, they were still there and may be there now for all that we know.

"The roads around these positions were patrolled by French cavalry. The following morning I went over to Major Bailey's headquarters and was there when he was visited by a French colonel and his adjutant. Through the interpreter, Major Bailey was begged to remove his battalion across the River Marne to the hills overlooking the river on the south bank. This Major Bailey refused to do, stating that his orders were to take these positions, and until his colonel countermanded his orders, he would stay here. The French colonel then informed us that outside of the detachments of French cavalry, there was no infantry in front of the 1st Battalion; the Germans at any moment might sweep through this sector. He begged us to cross the river immediately as he expected to blow up the bridge which he said was our only avenue of escape. Again Major Bailey refused to withdraw. An hour later we heard a terrific detonation which we knew meant the destruction of the bridge over the Marne and our supposed last avenue of escape. Lieutenant Peabody, who was in the kitchen of the farm house, raised a bottle of wine and drank a health to the bridge in which we all joined before the reverberations of the explosion had passed away."

From the memoirs of Corp. Frank W. Anderson, Co. "M", 23d Inf.:

"At three o'clock in the morning of May 31st, we were called out of our bunks by the bugler blowing his old bugle. Didn't we love the bugler! Orders were that we move at once, so we make up our full packs, had a hurried breakfast, policed up the town, fell in line, and marched to the next town about two miles away.

"A line of trucks awaited us here. We waited about half an hour before embusing and were on the road all day. . . . When we were within fifty kilometers of the front line, we began to see signs of why we had been_ called to the front line of battle so quickly. Refugees lined the left side of the road from this point up to within two kilometers of the front. The Germans were driving down from the northeast towards Paris. These people were the peasants who had been tilling peacefully the soil and attending their livestock. Naturally, they were all old men, women, and young children; the others were fighting at the front and nursing the soldiers in the hospitals. They were going miles from their homes to start anew in some strange locality until a time when they confidently believed the Boche would be driven back and they could return to their old homes. Everything they owned except their buildings and crops they took with them. An old hay wagon passed with oxen drawing it, loaded down with furniture and farm tools, and on the top were the mattresses and bedding; and here the family slept. A little boy or girl of ten leading the oxen along the hard road in bare feet. A cow, a few pigs, hens, ducks, and sheep herded by little children or old women. This was the make-up of the average family, and we passed dozens just the same. There were hundreds of these families traveling the different roads away from the front, and in spite of all this, these people still had the courage to smile upon us as we passed by.

"We rode through the town of Meaux. A French cavalry regiment /was at rest in a field a few miles beyond Meaux; their long spears stacked in uniform rows making a veritable field of spear points. This sight denoted open warfare.

"We came to the end of our dusty journey at dusk. There was much confusion; thirty thousand men were here. My company was marched into a field, and we stacked arms and waited for a couple of hours for further orders. Captain Green called the company to fall in, and we started out on the same road that we had just come over on trucks. . . .

"In the morning, I was awakened by a loud voice calling, 'wake up, men, we have important work to do today.' I sat up and saw our own regimental commander, Colonel Malone, walking through the field and waking up the men, calling them to arms, as it were.

"It was about four o'clock in the morning when we all rolled up our packs, fell into a column of two's, and marched down the road. I had not had anything to eat for many hours but had the foresight to stick a box of hardtack between my ammunition belt, and I munched on these as we marched along. We marched back on the same road on which we had come, took a left turn, crossed a railroad and fell out about half a mile beyond. Captain Green told us we would be here for about an hour, so I had three men from the squad go back to the railroad and fill the canteens with water; the rest of the men made a fire and we cooked some bacon and browned up some hardtack in the bacon grease.

"While we were eating, the 5th and 6th Marines marched through us, and we took up the hike on their heels. The day was hot, the road dusty. . . . We finally marched into a woods, fell out, and were told we would probably be there all night. We made fires, as it was not yet dark, and cooked some more bacon and browned more hardtack. We did not have time to eat as orders came to get on the march again. What a life ! We were now on a forced march which meant that things were not so good at the front, and we were needed there. . . . We had a long steep hill ahead of us, and a small town was about half way on the hill and here we stopped to rest. We soon learned that there was beaucoup wine, beer and champagne in the cellars of the houses. The funny part of it was that a few days before the Germans had all of this wine, but the French in making a sharp drive had taken it away and stored it in the cellars of the houses. I drank just one cup of red wine and filled my canteen with water from a brook.

"We started out again. At the top of the hill we passed a huge pile of U. S. Quartermaster supplies, all food, and it looked as though we were going to have plenty of eats. . . . As we marched through the fields towards a road beyond, we took up combat formation. It looked as though we were really close to the enemy. We were ordered to bring gas masks to the alert position and to fix bayonets. I took up my position at the head of the squad which was in single file and we entered the woods. Our colonel seemed to be everywhere; he bawled out several of the boys for not having their gas masks at the alert and their bayonets on their rifles. French soldiers were setting up their seventy-fives all around us. . . .

"It was dark when we halted in a field at the edge of a woods; the battalion reformed, and each company marched into the woods in a column of two's at intervals of sixty feet to keep down the danger of bursting shell. We were told we would probably be here until daylight and small fires were lighted, one for each squad, and we cooked more bacon, hard bread, and made coffee. We carried the whole coffee bean in our condiment can which we usually crushed with two stones.

"This was our first real rest in over sixty hours. We had been ordered to dig holes to lie in, but I was too tired to obey. I unrolled my blanket, laid it out, and went to sleep.

"At three o'clock in the morning we were up again. . . . We assembled in the yard of a farmhouse, lined up, and roll call was taken. Our rolls were dropped and piled up. Later we would come back and get them if we lived that long."

The following is extracted from a paper on file in the Historical Section, 2d Division, originally written as a letter in September, 1918, by Major F. L. Whitley, 9th Inf., on the use of trenches at Château-Thierry by the Americans:

"During the beginning of June, there was open warfare—no trenches, no wire entanglements, no deep dugouts or concrete emplacements, no shelter except the woods. This situation continued while the two opposing forces were maneuvering. Then as soon as the Germans were brought to a standstill, each force took up a defensive line for the time being and now trenches began to appear, crude at first, but gradually improved. To keep contact with the enemy, we pushed our lines as close to them and as rapidly as conditions permitted. My battalion held the flanks of the salient the Germans had driven into the French line in the Château-Thierry road, nearest to Paris.

"Each night we dug trenches and put out wire, while in the daytime we constructed little splinter-proof dugouts in the woods and ravines where we lived. We could not work in the open during the day as so doing immediately attracted shell or machine gun fire. Each night our trenches grew and improved. Under these conditions our dugouts were crude and offered little shelter from the rain of shell and so they often proved some poor fellow's grave. In construction our dugouts were a shallow trench with a single or double row of small, green timbers placed transversely, with a layer of earth or stone thrown on top. Stone was difficult to get in places but was well worth a diligent search, for it served as a bursting layer for shell and limited in consequence the destructive effect. An instantaneous shell in striking a hard rock bursts immediately so that the greater force of the explosion is lateral and outside the dugout. Most of the dugouts are small—for two or four men. It was springtime, so after a few weeks our dugouts were covered on top with new green grass."

From the memoirs of Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th Field Artillery:

"June 3. A German aviator was circling over our heads. We stopped, expecting every moment to hear something drop. He kept flying around and I suppose he had seen the column coming up the hill. Finally he flew away but in about twenty minutes was back again. By this time the battery was pulling into a courtyard where there was a big château. The aviator kept flying around. There were several French soldiers in the village, and I guess most everyone was firing his rifle at the plane and he was flying very low; in fact, we could see the Iron Cross painted on his plane. I kind of admired his nerve with all the bullets whizzing around him. Someone made a lucky shot as he flew over the château. We could see the observer looking over the side of the plane. I thought that he was going to take a 'Brodie' but they managed to land in a field close by."

From the diary of Sgt. Bernard J. McCrossen, MG Co., 23d Inf.:

"At 4.30 A.M. (June 4) we were cleaning our guns . . . about this time of day a soldier generally eats; but eats we had not. Yet hunger, yes. We soon learned that we owned whatever we found in the line of eats—or anything else—potatoes, vegetables, rabbits, chickens . . . what a feast we had! It was 'bonne guerre', the best meal since Thanksgiving."

From the diary of Regtl. Sgt.-Maj. Matthew Ausborn, Hqrs. Co., 9th Inf.:

"June 3d. Foraging party goes out and returns with chickens, rabbits, potatoes, eider and a cow. . . . June 13th. Traded our cow today to Pioneer Platoon for a younger one; think we were stung as the young one doesn't give much milk and we may have to kill it. . . . June 20. We killed our cow and then had to break up our mess on account of smoke. Hard luck!"

A brief but pointed account of the first days of June is found in the diary of Sgt. Joseph J. Gleeson, Btry. "D", 12th Field Artillery, of the 2d FA Brigade:

"June 1st. Rode until 3 bells and unloaded at 3.30. People leaving homes by the thousands to get out before Boche arrive. Hiked until 8.30 P.M.; watered and fed. Started again at 10.00 P.M. and hiked until 4.30 A.M.

"June 2d. Men and horses about exhausted, but we have to get up there quick. Hit hay at 6 bells; slept until 11.30; up and now ready to meet Boche although very tired. No real sleep for four days. Went into position.

"June 3d. Slept most of the A.M. At 1.30 P.M. regiment pulled out for line. Halted in woods. Thousands of troops went into position in an open field in the night. No chow, sleep or rest. Swiped a gallon of jam and six loaves of bread.

"June 4th. Up at 2.30 and opened fire at 3.00 A.M. until 9.00 A.M.; rested for a few hours and started again. Opened up on Boche in P.M. at different intervals. Boche planes dropped; also balloon.

"June 5th. Fired all night. Hundreds of guns were firing and such a war! Undesirable! Boche trying to break through but we mow them down. Rested all A.M. French plane burned. Big advance by Marines. Fired all night.

"June 6th. No sleep for third night; fired about 1000 rounds. A beauty of a day but too tired to enjoy it. Sleep by relays. When it comes to having it rough this can't be beat! Most of the boys deaf from noise of guns."

From diary of Lieut. Marvin H. Taylor, 23d Infantry:

June 28, 1918.

"The Major decided that as my duties were not onerous I might act as battalion burial officer. While our casualties have not been heavy, each day brought its toll of about two. Captain Martin established his battalion aid station in the cellar of the farm building nearest us and which was entirely exposed. The roof was practically demolished as were the outbuildings, and dead cattle were lying in the farm yard in an advanced state of decay, and as the place was under constant observation it was as much as your life was worth to attempt to reach the station in daylight.

"We established a little cemetery in the edge of the wood and made some crude railings about the graves and placed a large rustic cross in the center. A tiny cross on each grave bearing the identification disc of the soldier sleeping beneath completed the arrangement. The pioneers assigned to the battalion would dig the graves during the day, and as soon as darkness would fall we would hasten across the open area, get our burden, and hurry back to the shelter of the woods. After lowering the body into the grave, word would be sent to the Chaplain who would be waiting in the dugout and he would come and repeat the simple service; then the grave would be filled, the cross placed, and another patriot had paid the price.

"It was most impressive—those burial services in the forest—the somber depths of which would be revealed only by the flash of the guns. The open grave, the group of soldiers standing bareheaded, their helmets under their arms; the figure of the Chaplain at the foot of the grave, his voice scarcely audible; the solemn 'Amen'; the quick return of activity to the motionless group as the earth was returned. Of such are the scenes that dull the pomp and circumstance of war."

From the diary of 1st Lt. Elmer Hess, MCR, 15th FA, written during the relief operations on June 23-24:

"One evening Major Bailey and I, with several other officers from the batteries went up to the Paris Farm and on up the road towards Belleau to investigate the condition of our infantry and Marine regiments, and to get some first hand information. Up the road we saw a column of 'green' replacements marching in, under the command of a sergeant. We knew that our Marine brigade was in extreme need of these replacements and wondered how these boys would stand up under the terrible conditions which had prevailed in and around Belleau Wood. We did not have long to wait for an answer to our question. The night was hideously dark, lit up by the flash of gunfire and exploding shells. As these men passed by us, if they knew any fear, they certainly had determination written all over their grim young faces. During one of the flashes we got sight of the face of the sergeant in charge. He was tall, lean and hard; but there was a merry twinkle in his eyes. . . .

"Suddenly, without warning, there was a shriek in the air which caused our group to flatten themselves in the ditch alongside the road—but not so with this column of men. The shell landed right in the middle of them, killing and wounding twenty. There were a few moans and other hideously audible sounds, such as only dying men can make. There was a cold, sharp command given by the sergeant, 'Close ranks.' My men and myself scrambled to the road to aid in any way we could those who were still alive; but those youngsters with their heads high, closed the gap in their ranks without an apparent quiver, marched down the road and disappeared in the woods. Then we knew how they would conduct themselves later."

Private John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th FA, gives his impression of the attack on Vaux

"The Germans were entrenched in deep dugouts at Vaux. We were to start firing gas shells at 6.00 A.M. At 5.00 A.M., at daybreak, we were up ready to fire. Each gun had to give two hundred and fifty rounds of gas shell. It was some kind of liquid gas: when you shook a shell the gas inside would make a noise as though it was full of water. However, it was exceptionally strong as we were allowed only 25 shells at the gun at one time. All of us had to wear oilskin pants and coats, also hot rubber gloves and our gas mask at alert. We looked more like fishermen than soldiers. At 6.00 A.M. we started firing. It surely turned out to be a hot day, especially with the extra uniform on. Those not needed to fire the guns were busy hauling shell. The heat and smoke were awful."

In a letter written by Maj. Whitley, 9th Inf., in Sept. 1918 (on file in Historical Section, 2d Division) , he says of the Vaux attack:

"The preparation was well conceived and properly executed. The bombardment on the German lines was terrific. For twelve hours our guns hammered at them. At 6.00 P.M. the attack commenced and our men moved forward. It was gratifying to see our soldiers advance, following the barrage to the German trenches like veterans . . . this regiment, the 9th, newly recruited a year ago, is now rated as attack troops. The German counter-barrage rained like a torrent on our lines, but it did no great damage for like the hero in 'The Chocolate Soldier' it came too late. Our men were already far beyond the beaten zone, across 'No Man's Land', firing on fleeing Germans, bayoneting machine gunners who had just emptied their guns on our advancing lines."

From the diary of Frank Hodson, Pvt., Btry. "F", 15th FA:

"We left Nanteuil-sur-Marne on July 15th at 8.00 P.M. and travelled all night and the following day without rest. Several times I fell asleep on my horse. Passing through Betz and Haramont the roads were filled with trucks carrying shell for 75's and 155's. I never saw so many shells in my life and it looked something big was about to happen. We passed a number of horses cut clean in two and one had been blown into a tree. It was a task to get our horses past the dead bodies as they displayed great fear of the gruesome sight."

From the diary of Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th FA:

"In our new position everything was fine. We expected to stay here for two weeks, but on the night of the 15th orders came to pack up and move. . . . By ten o'clock we were on the move again, hiked until nine the following morning; pulled into woods and pitched camp. Oh, yes, the horses came first always. Broke camp about six o'clock and hiked until nine A.M. the next morning. The same routine as yesterday followed. Pulled out and hiked all night; getting up to some other front. The traffic was heavy and all going in the same direction. We stopped for breakfast and were told that a big attack was to be pulled off the following morning. Hiked all day, and it sure was hot and telling on man and beast. Some of the boys were sleeping on their feet and the horses the same way. The nearer the front, the heavier the traffic—all kinds—guns and tanks. We arrived three miles from our destination at 8.00 P.M., had supper, fed and watered the horses, and off again at 11.00 P.M. to go into position. It took us until 3.00 A.M. to make the three miles. I never saw such traffic; for miles we would move about a hundred yards or so, then stop for fifteen minutes. It was hard to keep awake. German aviators were flying very low, dropping lights on us. As soon as the light would drop we were good for a shower. We learned that the 1st And 2d American Divisions, with the Moroccans, were to start the attack at 5.00 A.M."

Extract from the diary of Sgt. Joseph J. Gleeson, Btry. "D", 12th FA:

"July 14. Camped on the banks of the Marne River, one of the prettiest places in France. Took a good old swim; washed clothes and slept. Wrote several letters. At 11.30 had to roll out.

"July 15. Pulled out of our emergency position and hiked all day. It was some job as it was a hot day. Halted at 5.30; had chow; started again. The boys are some tired, but a long hike is ahead.

"July 16. Still on the road and going strong. We are headed for a hot sector. Hit our camp at 6.30; watered and fed our horses.

"July 17. Hiked all night, so dark a person can't see ten feet ahead. Hit our position at 8.30 A.M., about all in after a 50 hour straight hike. Slept for a few hours and then fixed up for our big job."

Extract from the memoirs of Pvt. Fitch L. McCord, 82d Co., 6th Marines, on the operations before Soissons:

"Ahead of us, green on the fringe and dark within, looms up a majestic forest of great trees. The highway leads straight into the forest. Many roads empty into it, and from every road debouches a stream of horses, men and guns. The sky clouds up. Suddenly it rains—a regular April shower. It is mid-afternoon of July 17th and as we are hot and sweaty the shower is a relief.

"The rain quits as suddenly as it commenced and the sun pops out as we enter the forest, our uniforms steaming—a regular Turkish bath, and thirst becomes a torture.

"The number of war-wheels multiplies; stupendous is a mild word. Every implement of modern war is moving up, and there are French soldiers everywhere.

"We are in the great Bois de Retz. Majestic trees tower to a height of ninety feet above the moss-covered floor of the forest. In under the trees and clear back into the forest are picket lines of artillery and cavalry. Small arms ammunition is piled along the road and under trees. There are rows upon rows of every caliber of shell, dumps of winged aerial bombs, hand grenades, and pyrotechnics. French infantry with stacked rifles seem to be appraising us, smiling approvingly through wiry black beards and moustaches, as we plod along the right side of the road. The heavier traffic has the center of the road.

"The tanks are new to us. There are big tanks and little tanks, all with their weird camouflage in colors of green, red and brown. They rattle and crunch and groan and snort along, and no one argues with them in the matter of right-of-way. Through the slit at the base of the conning tower of each small tank protrudes a machine gun. The larger tanks carry three inch guns. . . .

"On the right side of the road moving forward in a never-ending stream, plods a single line of drab colored infantry. . . .

"The center of the road is a jumble of the machiwy of war, heavy howitzers propelled by squatty, low-built, powerful caterpillars; roan, black and sorrel horses, hitched in teams; the graceful French seventy-fives and their caissons drawn by six horses, with eight larger horses, tugging, struggling along, pulling the heavier hundred and fifty-fives.

"Occasionally a heavy gun or caisson slips into the ditch somewhere ahead, and the diversified column jams up, remaining in a solid, almost motionless pack, and amid a jamborie of sounds, squawks, horns, whistles and shouts, sways back and forth a few times and moves on, the crippled gun having been heaved over to the side of the road out of the line of traffic.

"A horse's leg is broken. He is dispassionately pistoled. Nothing is permitted to interfere with the forward movement of the troops, the transport, the machinery of war, the balance of power of the big drive just in the offing.

"Interspersed with the heavier traffic are the rolling kitchens, water wagons and combat wagons, each drawn by a span of mules. Ever attempting to forge ahead are the despatch riders on motorcycles with officers in their side cars—with now and then some general officer's staff car in the van. There are never ending trains of heavy ammunition trucks, loaded, rumbling, groaning and grinding, ever holding to the center of the road.

"On the left, winding through the trees, are the famous French horse, the Dragoons, picturesque indeed with plumes and lances, men and horses alike, big and well-conditioned. Just inside the trees in the ditch on the left of the road patiently plugs the French poilu in faded blue, now grey with dust, with the inevitable drooping moustache—his much-too-long rifle and enough paraphernalia, pots and pans, etc., on his back to start up light-housekeeping. . . .

"Between the guns, caissons, tanks, supply and ammunition trucks, in other words, between the heavy transport that ever holds command of the center of the road, and the single drab column of Americans on the right, is a Moroccan machine gun outfit, each individual a tall, dark, rangy cuss who moves along with the ease of the true sheik of the desert. . . . These represent the famous First Moroccan Division, by far the best colonial division in France. With them, we understand, is a regiment of the French Foreign Legion.
"A number of English troops are scattered through the unending line. Beside the Americans whom they pass, their uniforms look smart and tailored.

"Our company taks the road beside the Moroccans, each platoon in a column of files.

"Now it is night in the great Forest of Retz and as dark as a dungeon; and with the darkness came the rain. As we group in single file we cling, each man to a pack strap of the man in front, as blindly, doggedly, on we go in spite of the mud, the heavy packs, and the rain that comes down in torrents.

"Having travelled half the afternoon and more than half the night in this same never-ending forest, the head of the regimental column leaves the main road. Blindly, feeling our way, with the help of God and our own intuition, we, the lousy infantry, SOL as always, until they get us to where they need us, managed to miraculously accomplish the impossible by getting from right to the left side of this dark, seething, confusing stream of traffic, to follow other lousy troopers, men like ourselves, the other battalions and companies of our regiment, in single file off through the woods to our left, as the rest of the big parade invisibly moves towards Germany."

The following incident is given in the diary of 1st Lieut. Elmer Hess, MCR, 15th FA, as having taken place a few days after the 2d Division was relieved at Soissons and while the 2d FA Brigade was still in line:

"The following day we had rested up enough to investigate and find out who some of our neighbors were in the woods across the road. We found a new kind of soldier, the Scotch. A division of Scotch infantry had pulled up to relieve one of the exhausted infantry divisions. This was our first experience with the men who, because of their kilts, were nicknamed by the Germans, 'The Ladies from Hell'. These troops were fine, upstanding, big-raw-boned men with their knees bare, wearing the skirts and colors of their various clans; and all in all a very wonderful body of men. One of their officers come over and asked Major Bailey if it wouldn't be a good thing to have a boxing match between one of the Scotchmen and one of our artillerymen, and Major Bailey turned him over to me. We arranged a boxing match between one of our blacksmiths, a huge brute of a man; and the champion fighter of the Scotch. We roped off a ring in the woods and these two men stripped to the waist and went at it for the edification and amusement of both groups. Talk about a prize fight! This fight reminded me of the old days of bare knuckle fighting, and after a goodly number of rounds neither the American nor the Scotchman was off his feet. There was a lot of good-natured joshing between the man and officers of both units."

From the diary of Sgt. Joseph J. Gleeson, Btry. "D", 12th FA:

"July 18th. Big drive started at 3 bells, and such a noise! The tanks led, followed by infantry and helped by artillery. Every kind of war tool used—tanks, armored cars, cavalry and hundreds of thousands of men.

"July 19th. The Regiment lined up in an open field and fired day and night. The noise was deafening. We start ahead for the second day but had to come back. We eased down in firing but others are going ahead.

"July 20th. Everybody tired but happy. We pulled out and advanced about 6 miles; went into position and waited for big attack at dawn. Impossible for me to describe the doings of these days—dead—dead—dead; I will probably be the next.

"July 21. We opened up at 4; fired for a few hours and advanced. We were in an open field and Oh! such a scene! Several killed, about one third of the boys wounded. I was stunned by a burst but wasn't hurt. We had to go back for men.

"July 22. Teams were killed; guns blown up and tanks destroyed. The Allies are going in but paying a price. We took hundreds of prisoners, guns and ammunition. The woods are torn up, roads are destroyed and many dead are around the fields.

"July 23. The drive is still on and we are fighting hard. This morning we fired for 7 straight hours and the infantry gained their objective. There was a lull in the afternoon so we grabbed a few hours of much needed rest.

"July 24. Another big bombardment was on so we were again on the move. Fired Boche guns at them and gave them some of their own gas. Vierzy which is directly behind us is surely catching Hell.

"July 25. Fired most of the night and morning trying to take a big city. Were told we were going to be relieved. Boche shell us but no one hurt.

"July 26. Pulled out at 11 bells and all the boys are sure happy. Pulled back to camp and go for a much needed and well earned rest tomorrow. The boys are swapping tales of their experiences and each is giving the other fellow the credit."

From the diary of Pvt. Frank Hodson, gunner, "F" Battery, 15th FA:

"July 17. On July 17th we had our guns in position. The ground around showed the signs of heavy shelling. I saw French tanks go into action for the first time; they were much smaller than I supposed, but very efficient. I carried orders to the battery commanders that we would attack in the morning; and was given orders for Battery 'D', and told about where I would find it; but I took the wrong path in the darkness and found myself lost. I was in the midst of the infantry marching along through the woods, single file, each man with his hand on the shoulder of the man ahead to guide him.

"July 18. We opened fire at 4.30 in the morning. It sounded as though thousands of guns were in action at one time, all firing at top speed. The ground fairly shook with the violence of the firing. Within an hour our men began bringing in German prisoners. Some of them were terrible sights to behold, frightfully maimed; they passed us in groups all half dazed from the terrible Hell they had just passed through. Our casualties were heavy, and German prisoners were pressed into service to carry both German and Allied wounded from the field, often on rudely made stretchers. Many prisoners under no guard whatever wandered past our guns waiting to be directed which way to go to our prisoner camp. I felt pity for some of them—nothing but boys scarcely sixteen years old, almost hidden in clothing and helmets made to fit full-grown men.

"July 19. We were still advancing. Column after column of prisoners and many wounded were constantly passing us. Dead Germans and Americans were lying on the ground over which we advanced. We gained ground so rapidly that the field kitchens could not keep up with us and I had only three meals in four days and scarcely any sleep.

"Still more French tanks passed us on their way to support the infantry, also a company of French lancers. . . . I suppose their purpose was to mop up behind the advancing army; that is to rout out any Germans who might have been overlooked in the rush of the advance.

"During these days we changed our gun positions so frequently that there was no time for camouflage, so guns and men stood exposed to the enemy's fire from German airplanes. One day about sixteen of these planes in battle formation flew over us and for an hour or so made life Hell by dropping bombs wherever they could count most.

"July 20. By nightfall the attacks were not our only worry. No sooner had we cast ourselves on the ground for a well-earned night's sleep—for we were all dog-tired—than we were startled by the sound of a German motor overhead and almost instantly the countryside was illuminated by the light from a glaring flare suspended from the airplane. While it was still burning, the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun sounded, apparently a signal for the German artillery, for we were immediately deluged with shell.

"While here, we averaged only one meal a day for over a week and in that time had but three days' sleep. I had not had my shoes off for a month, but was carrying orders day and night. Sometimes I rode my horse until he absolutely refused to take another step and I had to continue on foot.

"July 21. We were relieved and marched four miles to the rear, overjoyed with the prospect of some rest and square meals, but our joy was short-lived; we were ordered to return at once to the front to support the French Moroccan Division. On this day I saw a French observation balloon brought down by a German airplane. The balloon burg into flame, but the observer saved his life by jumping with a parachute.

"July 23. We fired a big barrage, our guns set for their extreme range, but we did not advance.

"July 25. Our guns lined up side by side with French artillery, firing continuously all day."

From the diary of Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th FA:

"July 18th. The guns were laid ready. Once more I was detailed to the ammunition train and received orders to get the shells up. I started back about 4.30 A.M. and met our infantry going in. I sure felt sorry for them as they had been hiking all day and now they were running to get to work on time. Several had loaves of bread stuck on their bayonets. All were tired, all cursing, but anxious to be there on time. The storm broke about 5.00 o'clock. Hell broke loose. I felt that I could sleep forever if I could get away from the noise. But the guns had to be fed. The French cavalry was going in, to follow up the Germans and to give them no repose. I got back about 11.00 A.M. and found our guns out in an open field. The thousands of prisoners were coming in. It was funny to see one little doughboy marching behind a hundred big, husky German prisoners, but I guess that after the Hell they had been through in the morning they didn't need much of an escort. They sure looked bewildered.

"We had a respite during the afternoon as our infantry had driven the Germans beyond the town—a big gain, considering the country. It was in a wheat field here where I saw one of the most picturesque scenes: the French cavalry going into action. The wheat was ripe in contrast to the pale blue uniforms of the cavalry. There were fifteen hundred of them when the Germans began to fire shrapnel; they maneuvered off of the road, and it was a beautiful sight—the yellow wheat and the blue uniforms. . . . But what a change that evening when I saw a remnant of them returning; one soldier leading six horses; they must have suffered terribly that afternoon.

"July 19th. I came across a most interesting sight this afternoon. There laid a German, a man I should judge about thirty years old; he looked about six feet tall, laying on his stomach, his head towards our lines. Facing him in practically the same position was a little Moroccan about five feet three inches tall. Both were dead; both were cut something terrible; both had their trench knives in their hands. It must have been a terrible struggle, a fight to the death. Both paid the penalty. They had made the supreme sacrifice. They surely were enemies when they met."

From the diary of Sgt. Karl McCune, 55th Co., 5th Regiment of Marines:

"July 18th. It was now nearing dawn and had stopped raining. The battalion halted on a hill about half a mile from the front line where the men left their blankets, making up combat packs (reserve rations and belongings). Then the hike was resumed, the men very quiet, the artillery silent. It was about 3.30 A.M. A French machine gun outfit, composed of bearded men, muddy from the trenches, had just left and passed by toward the rear. They appeared tired and glad to see the Marines. Shell holes were everywhere. The woods were thinning out. Coming to a farmhouse, the men were issued two bandoliers of ammunition and two grenades each. A Marine unit crossed the road in front of the 2d Battalion and pursued its way along a trail.

"A '75 barked suddenly; and then began the most terrible barra e ever experienced up to this time. I Every caliber of gun, arge an small, firing as rapidly as possible, joined in throwing over a wall of steel and iron that was to drive the invader out of the land. The sky was becoming clearer. As we were late, we began to double time into position, panting, stumbling, well-nigh exhausted; the men ran quickly through the counter barrage thrown over by the Germans. Men fell now and then, hit by shrapnel. A French infantry unit passed; newly made trenches with machine gun emplacements. Equipment lay everywhere, discarded by troops because it was too heavy and in the way. The second line position was passed. A French sentinel posted at the wire strung across the road, opened it up to let the Marines through; shells dropped closer; several men were hit. Big trees cut by the artillery fire lay everywhere about the woods. Exhausted, the men dropped into holes constituting the line, and paused for breath. Exhausted as they were, the men arose and went over the top to meet the enemy.

"We went through barbed wire entanglements. In front of the advanced posts a machine gun opened up and the men who received the fire halted and lay on the ground, behind trees if possible; our units on the right and left advanced and forced the gun crew to withdraw. We advanced, keenly on the alert, from tree to tree. Maxims lay scattered about with long belts of ammunition, discarded by the Germans in their flight. The barrage roared steadily, never varying in its intensity. . . .

"The German artillery now dropped shells between the first and second wave which the men avoided by making an encircling movement about the shelled area, reforming the line when out of range. To the right of the company were captured a 4-in. gun, a telephane,, station and several prisoners. We found hot coffee and German war bread and butter which the men devoured, after making the prisoners first sample it.

"The advance led into a valley, up a hill that was subjected to indirect fire from hostile machine guns on the next ridge; in crossing we lost a number of men. A hundred prisoners and some machine guns were captured, but not before the tanks swung down upon them. We crested in a ravine for an hour, where we captured, in a cave, a wireless lephone station. On the farther side of the ravine was a battery. hen we left the foot of the hill a French cavalry unit formed to go over, and tanks came up. We advanced across a wheat field where were hidden machine guns that were silenced by the tanks.

"The night was cool and clear, the stars shining. Wounded Marines lay groaning in the fields because there were not enough stretchers to care for all.

"The morning of the 19th dawned hazily. At 4.00 A.M. the men were awakened to stand to. We withdrew a short distance into the woods, worn out, clothes torn and covered with mud. The front was now quiet. Enemy bombers flew over us and dropped their bombs; they controlled the air today. The 55th Company galley drew up this morning with plenty of rations. The men rested the entire day while the artillery came up and went into position. In the ravine close by, '75's were lined up hub to hub, and all over the ridge and plain batteries appeared. Ammunition wagons with loads of shell, came and went. A French aviator, wounded in an encounter with the Germans, was forced to descend and landed safely.

"The company galley used four German prisoners to carry chow up to the company. At one o'clock ambulances arrived and began carrying off the wounded, passing along a road subjected to a continuous artillery fire.

"After dark the 1st Battalion prepared to occupy trenches evacuated that morning. Filing across the field in single file, over the road, and following the line of trenches, it came to the main road where it halted while the officers reconnoitered. The advance began again. Flares lit up the sky now and then; occasionally a shell whizzed by and exploded; at intervals the sharp staccato rasp of a Maxim cut the air, to die quickly. An interval was maintained of five paces in the column while going forward. Wrecked machine gun emplacements and empty cartridge shells were scattered about. We occupied some entrenchments only about two feet deep and a yard wide, which was to be our alert position during the night; every third man could sleep while the others stood by for a night attack.

"At day, the battalion left the trenches; a machine gun on the left opened fire; enemy artillery shelled our road, forcing us to move up a ravine. Here were artillery horses, galleys, munition wagons, and supplies. A troop of French cavalry dismounted and stood by until it was time for them to go over. The barrage thundered steadily; enemy airplanes were overhead—one in particular flew very low and every man opened up with his rifle, pistol and chauchut, but he escaped.

"The battalion assembled again and in column of two's moved towards the rear. The road was jammed with advancing batteries. We marched on the right of the road to avoid the traffic, passing hangars captured the previous day. French engineers and signal men were working along the road. We passed parked munition wagons, tanks, British armored cars, and a Moroccan supply train preparing its evening meal. The battalion halted for an hour and the Marines 'bummed' coffee, wine, etc., from the Frenchmen. We passed a big pile of salvage which the men ransacked for needed articles. Exhausted soldiers were sleeping everywhere. Then the battalion halted; ate supper—cornbill, French bread and coffee. The next morning breakfast was served—the same old stuff—slum!"

From diary of Lieut. Marvin H. Taylor, 23d Infantry:

"July 24, 1918. We rode on and on through the night having no idea where we were going; nor did the French chauffeur, his only instructions being to follow the carrion ahead. About 9.00 the next morning we were unloaded upon the side of a road leading through a dense forest of huge trees whose branches intertwined formed an impenetrable canopy overhead. We learned from the signs along the road that we were in the forest of Villers-Cotterets.

"Everywhere we saw frenzied indications of activity. . . . We marched until late in the afternoon. . . . About 4.00 P.M. we halted and the men were instructed to get all the rest and sleep possible, but it was not possible to sleep or even rest. Everyone sensed the impending movement and they were accordingly excited, unconsciously perhaps, but nevertheless repose was futile. The endless stream of traffic along the road` alone was enough to attract their attention to the exclusion of all else.

"The Battalion commanders were called to confer with the Colonel ai-ra—' shortly afterward they, in turn, sent for the company commanders. A sudden attack was to be launched the next morning; 4.35 was zero hour. No maps were available so we were given a compass direction. We were of the impression that only one map was in the regiment and that, a very mediocre one, was in Colonel Malone's possession. The rolling-kitchens had kept up with us this time by being tied on behind camions, but of course the wagon train with supplies was nowhere near. 'B' Company had no provisions on hand except a small amount of beans and rice, not enough of either to feed the company. Sergeant Egan, with his usual resourcefulness, had the beans and rice boiled together and issued with a small bit of bread to the men who had not eaten a full meal for nearly 48 hours. . . .

"As darkness set in we moved out. Such a march I have never experienced before and never expect to experience again. As secrecy was essential everything had been withheld until dark, and now the road was literally alive and swarming with a double stream of vehicular traffic in the center and the infantry in single file on either side of the road. The darkness was intense and it was necessary to walk with one hand and arm extended to keep actual contact with the man ahead. The line would jam and buckle until at times you would be standing still or running headlong into the darkness in the effort to keep up.

"More than once our path was in the ditch by the roadside and the mud from the falling rain was churned into paste by the feet of the many infantrymen.

"It was impossible to judge time; my watch was broken and I have no idea how long we marched. In daylight under normal conditions it required well over half a day. It must have been about midnight that we came on a place in the road where Boche aviators had dropped a bomb which in exploding killed the horses drawing a piece of artillery, and their carcasses were strewn all about blocking the road until they could be dumped off to one side, a grisly job.

"Still later we arrived at a house. I suppose that it really was a small village, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell. There bandoleers containing extra ammunition were issued and in a short time we were led off into a road that ran at right angles into the forest and there we were halted.

"My platoon was neither the first nor the last in column, and I do not know what outfits we were between. I was completely at sea. I had no idea where we were and did not even know the direction of the enemy. It was so wet and muddy that we could not even sit down for wet, clammy clothing in the chill of that night would have been impossible.

"The tanks started into position—under other circumstances it would have been a spectacle of great interest, for we had never been in action with tanks before. First a poilu on foot would appear flashing an electric flashlight to show the way, then the lumbering mass of the tank itself would come creeping along literally feeling its way. Each one had a bundle of faggots tied on the front end, and we surmised that if a particularly deep ditch or trench was encountered the bundle could be released to fill the opening in the pathway. Every now and then one would pass dragging a boat-shaped sled filled with cans of petrol or whatever the fuel is they use in tanks.

"As the time grew nearer to 4.35 we began to become anxious; were they never going to move out; surely this could not be our jumping off position, this apparently blind alley in the forest. It was so dark you could not see your hand before you, and after waiting a while longer we sent out men to other companies to learn what they could of the impending move. A search failed to reveal any outfit near us. In some inexplicable manner we had been left when the rest of the battalions moved out.

"None of us knew where we were but with the first streak of dawn we hastened to find out. As we ran down the avenues of the forest that seemed to lead in the direction toward the enemy, we cast off every possible article that could be disposed of.

"Suddenly the stillness of dawn was shattered by a monstrous crash; it seemed that every piece of artillery in France had fired simultaneously. A glance at my platoon sergeant's watch showed 4.35—zero hour. . . .

"From somewhere Colonel Malone appeared and with a quick gesture pointed out the way; he was also talking volubly but we could not hear his voice above the terrific din. The 23d went over with a battalion front, the 2d Battalion leading supported by the 1st and 2d in successive waves.

"From the edge of the forest we emerged into a narrow valley sodden with rain. We picked our way between shell holes each of which was now a miniature lake, and here and there stumbled over a mass of old clothes, topped by a helmet which prior to the last thrust of the enemy had been a Frenchman or a German. . . .

"Next we passed through the ruins of a village, the most completely devastated of any I have yet seen, for this had been no man's land prior to zero hour. . . .

"The wounded began to appear, those who could walk, for the orders had been most strict that no one should leave their outfits even to aid the wounded. One of the first I saw was Lieutenant Mitchell of the 2d Battalion who was holding his arm which had apparently been broken by a bullet and gritting his teeth, but in answer to my question stated that tile Boche were completely surprised and in full flight.

Our path then took us through a ravine, a queer sort of place with precipitous sides and many narrow passages which were all filled with German material, trench mortars, machine guns and miscellaneous equipment and many dead Germans evidently killed by our artillery.

"Upon leaving the ravine we came upon a great plateau on which the wheat was standing far above my waist and it formed a screen that most effectually hid what was in front of us. As our men began to fall we quickly realized that if they were to ever receive attention from those following we must devise some scheme to mark where they were lying, so wherever possible we would stick their rifle in the ground, bayonet first, and hang their helmet across the butt, and hope that it could be seen above the wheat by the ambulance men. . . .

"The tanks were maneuvering in front of us and our orders just received were to follow them. Literally it was like being behind the target on a rifle range except that here the riflemen were artillerymen bent on disabling the tanks by direct hits. Our losses were incredibly small during that phase of the engagement, however, considering our situation.

"Every now and then the rapid fire of a machine gun would cause us to hug the ground and we would crawl slowly forward until a tank would wheel out of line and nose the machine gun nest out and then with a direct hit blow it out of existence.

"Once when we were sprayed with bullets from such a hidden nest a young lad who was standing near me was struck in the arm and the resulting sharp noise caused me to believe explosive bullets were being used, but I thing more probably it was the impact of the bullet against the bone that caused the report. . . ,

"At one point during the advance we captured a former French aerodrome which, after capturing, the Germans had utilized as a gun position, hiding the guns in the building and having excavated quarters for the men underground.

"It must have been nearly noon when we reached a ravine with very steep sides and which was quite deep. The Boche occupied a position on the opposite side from which they had a perfect field of fire for their machine guns. On our right flank was a farm house and outbuildings where another machine gun nest was located. We were forced to halt and seek what protection we could while the tanks made a detour following the road to the left across the ravine. One circled to the right and cleared the obstruction on our flank before starting across. During the crossing a direct hit was registered on one tank, turning it over on its side. As we drew near an explosion occurred within and thick black smoke came from all the openings. The French soldiers walking with the tank made gestures of resignation as though that were the end to be expected and attached themselves to others of the rumbling monsters.

"On reforming the company on the opposite side of the ravine I learned from Hall that Latshaw had been severely wounded, a machine gun bullet striking him in the thigh and breaking the bone.

"We continued our advance more or less unopposed for a time, at last coming to a road. There were no other troops in sight, and we halted in a bit of a grove and sent runners to our right and left to gain contact with other units. One reported that the battalion was assembling in a ravine on our right, so we quickly made our way there. . . .

"Major Waddill was sitting near the entrance of one of the dugouts receiving reports from the companies as they came in. It was stupendous the number of prisoners and amount of material we had captured in the aggregate, and in addition to the reported captures by the one battalion, I had seen entire batteries of German guns standing in the places prepared for them and then deserted, and innumerable trench mortars and machine guns.

"While we were so engaged Llufrio, the regimental adjutant, drove up along a road that approached the ravine with orders for another advance.

"We quickly reorganized and deployed in a wood which gave way to another expanse of wheat. . . .

"Water was the greatest necessity; the day had been terribly hot, and as we lay on the ground in the cruel rays of the sun our thirst was enormous. We stripped our own dead and all the German dead and prisoners of their canteens, but it became increasingly difficult to prevent the men from filling their canteens from little pools of stagnant water. . .

"We emerged from the woods upon a broad stretch of wheat fields as flat as a table which was bounded by a wide deep valley, in the bottom of which was the main portion of the town of Vierzy. The houses were built in a series of terraces along the opposite side and each one offered excellent protection for Boche machine guns which opened a i'll.rderous fire upon us, exposed as we were crossing the open fields. Our advance was a quick rush down the slope into the town, then a short delay caused by lurking snipers who were disposed of after a bit of house to house fighting, and then the arduous climb up to the opposite slope began.

"There were fences and walls enclosing the grounds of each house and they were still intact. The destruction of war had apparently skipped that little town, for some unaccountable reason, and all of these structures made progress extremely difficult. A formation of any sort was quite impossible, and we struggled forward in groups made up of men of all outfits—infantrymen, marines, and Moroccans—in a strange hodgepodge. . . .

"At the summit we came upon a strange scene; there on the very edge of the hill, somewhat concealed by shrubbery, a German machine gun had been engaged taking advantage of the unobstructed field of fire as we crossed through the wheat. But now retribution had been meted out, the German gunner was dead at his gun. Seated as in the act of firing, his finger on the trigger, his head bent forward on the breech, a bullet hole in the forehead and gaping bayonet wound in the throat. I never thought I would reach a point where I would glory in death, but the sight of that fellow positively caused a thrill of exaltation to sweep over me, and tired as I was, I laughed aloud. He had killed and maimed many of my men, and here he was, himself a victim of war in its tempest of ruthless punishment for those who defy its course. My platoon sergeant told me afterward that when I laughed every man in the platoon caught the spirit of it and laughed a grim short laugh that boded no good for any other Boche we met up with that day.

"In the cellar of the adjacent house which opened directly on the terrace we found the remainder of the gun crew and its guards.

"We attempted to reorganize our men into some sort of formation after reaching the top of the height and then continued our way through that portion of the town that was built on the hill. Just as we reached the opening in front of the church, a deluge of shells began bursting all about us. Houses began to tumble causing clouds of thick dust and smoke to obscure our vision and add to the confusion. It is contended by many officers that the shells were from our own artillery who were firing under the belief that we had been held up before Vierzy, but I have no opinion as to this, for I could not tell from which direction the shelling came; but from whatever source they came they served to completely disorganize our outfits and we hastened from the town as best we could.

"Hall and I managed to stick together, and on reaching the edge of town assembled as many of our men as possible, threw out a line of skirmishers and advanced until we came to a low stone wall where we halted and sought shelter from the enemy rifle and machine gun fire which began to sweep us, for we had again established contact with the fleeing enemy. . . .

"There we were joined by Major Waddill and by remnants of almost every company in the regiment, and we again started forward between blasts from the enemy machine guns. Hall's orderly was badly wounded by a machine gun bullet entering through the top of his shoulder and tearing a huge opening in his chest as it came out. He was lying prone, absolutely hugging the ground when it happened, which made it the more extraordinary.

"Our advance continued until we had crossed a sunken road and there we dug in. Completely exhausted as they were, the men managed to scrape holes in the ground large enough to lie in. Hall and I dug one together, using a shovel we took off a lad who had been killed, our mess knives and helmets. During the night we took turns watching, but we were so dead tired I believe the entire German army could have advanced unseen.

"When day broke we found that food had been sent up and for once it was sensible food. Canned tomatoes, whose chief value lay in the juice, bread, apple sauce and corn willy. Hall and I managed a cup of coffee apiece by means of my can of G. Washington coffee and can of alcohol.

"Quite early the Marines, who had been in reserve the day before, went forward to resume the attack, but during the night the Boche had withdrawn to a stronger line of defense and progress was much slower.

"As we lay in the shallow little holes we had dug, there suddenly appeared a group of enemy planes flying so low we could plainly see the aviators and the black maltese crosses on the wings. Eighteen ships there were, and they flew at will unmolested by any allied planes, for in fact none of the latter appeared. The planes flew lower and lower and opened fire on our funk holes with machine guns. Our shelters, of course, had no vestige of covering, and the saving grace was the difficulty of the angle of fire, for the Boche could not shoot straight down. Only one man was hit near me; and great was our delight when a lucky rifle shot tumbled one of the vultures to the ground.

"Toward night orders came to withdraw, and after dark we moved out. We marched away into the darkness which was broken here and there by huge fires along the horizon where the Boche were destroying material in their rapid retreat from the tightening grasp on the salient. We were informed that we had advanced a distance of eleven kilometers on the 18th, the first day of the drive. We marched on, doubling back frequently as we missed the way. Finally toward morning we struck the road and soon met some Red Cross men who were giving away copies of the continental edition of the New York Herald which carried huge headlines telling of our victory. With each paper went a package of cakes.

"We halted at a place where the kitchens had been brought, and soon were given breakfast, the first hot food for a long time. We all snatched a bit of sleep any place we could stretch out, and at noon assembled the company and called the roll. As each name was called we attempted to learn the fate of the missing from the survivors, but there were many that could not be accounted for. After a complete check we found there were 85 effectives. The company was not full strength when we went into action, but we had started with some 200 men and three officers.

"During the checking of the regiment we learned that during the course of the battle on the 18th, Major Elliott had called a conference of his officers, and shortly after they had assembled a German high explosive struck in their midst. The Major was seriously wounded, as were Wisner and Legg. Captain Valentine was killed and Hurlbert lost his life. The latter had been detailed as gas officer to relieve me, and quite naturally I consider my transfer back to my company a most fortunate one.

"In the middle of the day we were ordered to move out and we started to march back to the place where we had left our surplus equipment. Upon reaching that place we secured our possessions and continued further through the forest until we reached a place where we were ordered to pitch camp. Soon everything was well arranged, the rows of shelter tents under the protecting canopy of big forest trees were very attractive, and the dry ground covered with a thick carpet of dead leaves made an excellent bed for our fatigued command.

"Just about dusk I was ordered to report to Major Waddill, and upon so doing received instructions to go to the nearby town and billet the battalion. Accompanied by officers from the other battalions I entered the town. Everywhere were signs in German, directions painted on walls of corner houses and other conspicuous places. It was a miserably squalid little town, totally unfit for occupation by troops with the exception of the chateau and perhaps two other houses which were already being utilized.

"Colonel Malone came in with orders for the regiment to move at once to St. Etienne, a village some 18 or 20 kilometers distant.

"At St. Etienne we were to form the reserve for a Scottish division which was launching an attack at dawn the morning following. Without waiting to hear more, I hastened back to give Major Waddill the advantage of the information so gained, which meant several minutes before the runner would arrive with the official order, and minutes in preparation for a move in the dark are valuable.

"It had started to rain, and breaking camp in a drizzle is not fun; furthermore it meant the men's blankets and clothing would be wet through, and in addition to the discomfort would be the extra ounces of weight to carry. I had just gotten my own equipment assembled and loaded when I heard my name shouted by the Major, and when I reported he instructed me to accompany the baggage train which was to precede the column and to make what disposition I could of the battalion upon reaching our destination.

"I attached myself to 'B' Company's contingent and soon we were ploughing off down the road. It is to be understood that no one save the driver is permitted to ride on a combat wagon or rolling kitchen, and Sergeant Egan, Finanzo, Gallagher and I all hiked along together, first on one side of the kitchen and then on the other. Keeping up with a column of horse drawn vehicles is no idle jest under the best of conditions, but along a road heavy with strC'ky mud and in a steady downpour it is even worse. We had hiked all the night before and three-fourths of the day after being through the drive, and it was all we could do to keep awake. Finally I took a heavy strap I had in my musette bag and running it through my belt I looped the strap over a handle of the kitchen and permitted myself to be dragged along more asleep than awake.

"Toward morning we reached our destination, a tiny village utterly destroyed with the exception of one building, which was a storehouse with living room above. Here I met Lieutenant Brickley, who had the task of billeting regimental headquarters. He had placed them in the one building and already the Colonel was upstairs asleep. . . .

"After a short wait the column appeared. Such a collection of jaded men I have never seen. They had marched the full distance under full equipment completely watersoaked. Their faces were ashen pale in that early morning light, and even their lips were tinged with gray. Soberly and noiselessly they swung into position and soon were sound asleep in whatever attitude they struck the ground."

Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th FA, says of the Moroccans:

"With reference to the Moroccans, the French couldn't drive them like their own troops. We used to holler at them, but all the answer we would get was a grunt like a pig. It was a known fact that the Moroccans wouldn't take any prisoners. I, at least, never saw them bring any back. I saw one of their chiefs coming back wounded, and he surely was a horrible sight. He had been shot in the cheek and the blood had dried on his whiskers. He had big ivory earring's. I had to look at him twice. I called to him, asking if he was wounded very bad. He answered: 'No; face.' I wouldn't want to meet him in No Man's Land. The Moroccans had the reputation of being fierce fighters."

From diary of 1st Lieut. Elmer Hess, MCR, 15th FA:

"On the march out as we were passing through one of the villages in this region just behind the old front, we witnessed one of the most touching incidents of the war. A battalion of the 9th Infantry of our division was passing. The men noticed their old colonel (Upton), now brigadier general, on the steps of one of the houses. The recognition was mutual. The straggling route step became one of perfect cadence. Every man automatically stiffened. The old man stood there on the steps saluting his old outfit. Suddenly, the whole column broke into a song that he had taught them months before. They still loved him, and he them—and they say there's no such a thing as sentiment. Why, sentiment is the soldier's religion."

Lieut. Hess mentions another incident:

"Late in the afternoon of September 10th, while on our way to St. Mihiel front, orders were received to march that night and there was much hustle and bustle. The roads were more crowded, if that were possible, than ever before. Everyone was wet and covered with mud splashed by the trucks. The strange thing is that anybody was permitted to sing, and all through the night the gang of prisoners, marching at the tail of the column, sang continuously. These men had excellent voices and they made us forget the otherwise unpleasant night. These prisoners were a tough crew. As we marched, the 9th Infantry passed us, and their men could not understand why so many foot soldiers were with a regiment of field artillery. Curiosity finally got the best of them and a 9th Infantryman yelled across the road: 'What in Hell outfit is that, anyhow?' The reply from a prisoner immediately went back: 'We are Y.M.C.A. replacements!' "

From diary of 2d Lieut. Herbert Snyder, 9th Infantry:

"Sept. 1st (Sunday). At 5.00 o'clock got orders for our move by truck—and that means a battle, sure. I hope I am alive at the end of it; of victory I am certain. Sept. 2d: We fell in at 10.00 o'clock and at 1.30 trucks arrived, the long wait enlivened by a big air raid on our aviation depot at Colombey-les-Belles. We piled into trucks and set off for an unknown place; passed through Toul while most of the time I was asleep. The cold woke me up constantly. At daybreak we arrived in a big woods and ordered out. Everyone slept all day. There was no rain but we had nothing to eat. Sept. 3d: Wagons arrived with kitchens. 4th: Carried out maneuvers in the woods in preparation for wood-fighting we expect in the coming offensive. 5th: Rained during the day. I found some shelter tents in a salvage dump. 6th: Heavy rains all last night so drills were suspended. The coming offensive explained to us and we are all confident. 7th: Two officers from each company left camp to make a reconnaissance of the jump-off place near Limey; our camp is five and a half miles in rear of that ruined village. 8th: All day long in camp. We are not allowed to show ourselves in the open and it is not pleasant to stay in the woods with the rain falling constantly. Flu seems to have struck the outfit and I have lost four of my men. 9th: Clear today. Packed up in the afternoon, and in the evening left the Bois de Minorville and moved up nearer the jump-off. Finally reached the Bois de l'Eveque. 10th: We bivouacked in the woods east of Lironville which place we reached at two o'clock in the morning in a pouring rain. Men sheltered in some support trenches. We are rather nervous and anxious to get at Jerry, but we still must sit and wait. 11th: Spent all the day at battalion headquarters to be sure to get orders on time; and at 3.00 o'clock they came. Tomorrow is 'D' day and 5.00 A.M. is hour. We are well equipped—plenty of rations, ammunition, signal rockets, maps, avion panels, everything has been thought of. We have gone over the route of the attack again and again and have rehearsed all the special orders until we know them backwards. We are to start near Limey, go straight north for nine kilometers, digging in just south of Jaulny. For the operation, we are given twelve hours for the first part and twelve for the second. I am carrying my slicker, iron rations (one-half pound of 'Willie' and two packages of hard bread) , a pound of chocolate, a small can of milk, 180 cigarettes, besides maps, papers, a pistol, gas mask, tin kelly and my cane. . . . We left on time for the assembly trench in a heavy rain; passed through woods where it was so dark we held each other's hand. Finally breaking from the woods we could see little lights everywhere. At first we were nervous because that might attract the Boche artillery. Reached Limey at 10.00 o'clock and got into the Boyau Haugomont, the communicating trench for the assembly line. It was full of men passing up and down, so we were delayed. The trench was thigh-deep in water. We had to keep in it for over a mile. It continued to rain. Reaching our real trench, we looked for shelter as it was only midnight and we had a long time yet. At one o'clock sharp the bombardment began, gradually increasing in volume, and I went up to watch it. Some gas regiments were using thermite shells to get machine guns; the shower of red-hot steel made an unforgetable sight. 12th: The Germans were not replying very much but sending up countless rockets of red, green and yellow. Every now and then one could see by the extra red glare where an ammunition dump exploded. By 4.30 the roar of our fire was deafening, but half an hour later it increased even more; and I knew by that our barrage was beginning so I hopped on the paraget to see it better. Just as day was breaking, 5.15, the machine gun barrage began and I signalled to my men to come out and line up ready for the start. At 5.30 `G' Company started; all the officers smoking vile cigars as we had agreed upon. At six, prisoners began coming in; and an amusing sight they were with their long coats flapping in the breeze, their hands high in the air, calling `Kamerad.' "

From the diary of Sgt. Bernard J. McCrossen, MG Co., 23d Infantry:

"On Sunday evening at nine o'clock an unexpected order was received to load immediately on trucks. At nine-thirty we were on our way. Riding all night, we halted in rear of the St. Mihiel sector and put up in the woods near the town of Limey. For the next ten days we were kept under cover of woods unseen by the enemy sailing over us in quest of information. On the night of Sept. 10th we moved closer to the front. It was raining, and the hiking was bad. We rested all day the 11th, but it was impossible to keep dry. About one o'clock in the morning of Sept. 12th we landed in the trenches, and spent the remainder of the morning locating our position and the points from where we would make our attack. The trenches were full of mud and water. Beginning at 1.00 A.M. the barrage opened up; every available gun in the sector taking up the fire. It lasted until we started 'over the top' at daybreak when the fire became a rolling barrage; and it was a dandy, the most effective we had ever seen. We did not meet very heavy resistance so reached our objective at 11.00 A.M., consolidating on a line a kilometer and a half outside the town of Thiaucourt. After organizing, we entered the town of Thiaucourt. The French population was still in town, and the place was filled with concealed Dutchmen. The 'doughboys' went from cellar to cellar, dugout to dugout, rustling out the Boche. At the enemy's expense we had a fine feast, as the attack was so sudden their foodstuff could not be lifted. When the Americans entered, the population was frantic with joy. They hugged the doughboys, offered them chow and literally jumped on their necks, showering them with blessings and kisses. There were some very, very pretty mademoiselles in these groups. Nothing was too good for the doughboys; women and children were stopping them to shake their hands and to bless them for liberating them after four years of captivity and horror. Advancing to a hill two kilometers away, where our main objective was, we dug in on the side. That evening the Marines jumped us and we went into reserve. The next day we were relieved from reserve and proceeded back to the woods. As we were on our way back we passed through the 78th Division, who were lined up on both sides of the road to see the 'Famous 23d Infantry' in review. Their band was ripping out some real rag-time for our benefit, and it sure did sound good to us. Passing through Limey we met a regiment of colored folks on their way to bury the dead. They had picks and shovels and it was some job; we know they did not care about it. Finally we arrived in camp about 2.30 A.M. and found 'Wild Bill Moony' on the job as usual, and had a real feed of hot spuds, bacon and coffee ready for us. We then turned-in and got some sleep."

From the diary of Sgt. Karl McCune, 55th Company, 5th Marines:

"About 8.00 P.M., Sept. 3d the battalion marched towards Saxon, travelling fast, arriving in the woods in the vicinity of that place at 3.00 A.M. At 8.00 P.M. we filed out of the woods, single file, formed column of squads and hiked through Maron to the Bois de Grondreville, halted, and marched half a mile more. These night marches are nerve-racking. Sept. 4th: Standing by the whole afternoon for inspection; we marched along the Nancy-Toul Road through the village of Gondreville, to the Bois de Ropage which we reached at nightfall. The rain was falling and the road muddy. We were now about 5 kilometers north of Toul. Here we remained in the woods until the 10th. The rains made the camp very disagreeable, but the morale of the men was very good throughout. Ammunition belts, chauchat clips were issued and the ammunition on hand checked. At 8.00 P.M. on the night of the 9th, the battalion left the woods in the direction of the front lines, halting at the Bois des Hayes at 5.00 A.M. after an all-night march over muddy roads, under heavy showers. Sept. 11th the battalion resumed the hike to the front lines, passing through Bois de Montjois, the trenches to Lironville; through this village, again into trenches, halting in position north of Limey about midnight. The weather was still bad and it rained continuously. At 1.00 A.M., September 12th, began the barrage. The noise was terrific; huge guns emplaced everywhere thundered steadily until about 5.00 A.M., raising tremendous havoc in the Boche position. At 4.00 A.M. began the machine gun barrage; machine guns were so thick that bullets fairly rained into the hostile lines. At 5.00 A.M. the creeping barrage was laid down by guns almost on our front lines. Finally the infantry went over; we were in reserve. A few shells fell from the German counter barrage which was very weak. After a comparatively easy day the company bivouacked for the night in the Bois d'Heiche not for [sic] from Thiaucourt. The next day the company went into position on the hill southwest of the Bois de Bonvaux, where it remained until the night of Sept. 15th. On the 14th a German aviator, flying low, passed over the company position. Quickly every man with a rifle or pistol and the machine gunners directed fire upon him and brought him down. The aviator was made prisoner and the machine picked to pieces for souvenirs. At 4.00 A.M. on the 16th the company was relieved, but on account of traffic the troops were unable to leave for the rear before noon. We proceeded to Minorville over good roads in fair weather."

From the 2d Division War Diary, Oct. 10-20:

"Pvt. Clemm D. Evans, known as 'Red Blanket,' a Creek Indian from Oklahoma, enlisted in the 74th Company, 6th Marines. At Belleau Wood he found some peacock feathers which he attached to his helmet with a band made from a bandoleer. At Soissons and Blanc Mont 'when I was going over the top I put the feathers on my helmet; when we came out of the line, I slipped them into my haversack.'

"As combat drew near, Clemm D. Evans reverted to 'Red Blanket,' the Indian warrior; and following the ancient traditions of his people, he decorated his head with tribal feathers to meet the enemy."

From the diary of Corp. John E. Aasland, 55th Company, 5th Marines:

"Sept. 19th: Drilled all afternoon; in the evening it began to rain and rained in sheets all night—a regular ocean.

"Sept. 20th: At supper we were ordered to stand by, and at 8.30 we were on the march. Don't know why we should hike away from the front at night unless it would be to give the enemy the impression that we are all a very short distance behind the lines, so if they retake some of their ground, we'll be right back. At midnight we marched through the town of Toul or Nancy. The fellows that have been there can't agree which. A big city and dark as night, not a light showing. At daybreak we were still going, but had not marched very fast. Getting wet the other night, so awful wet, and being inactive the day afterwards, has just sapped all our strength and I was all in.

"Sept. 22d (Sunday): Had of underwear. We did not have to take it off, only open our shirts and let the officers see how dirty it is.

"Sept. 25th: At 10.00 a runner brought word to come in and pack up; we're going to move. Had dinner; marched out of Blenoid-les-Toul at 1.00 P.M. and marched into Domgermain, at a distance of 7 miles. Stacked arms and packs along the railroad track and waited. A freight train was backed in. The horses, mules and kitchens were loaded first. Then the battalion began to load at the head of the train. At 8.30 the train pulled out for somewhere else in France. We took off our shoes and lay down to sleep with our blankets and canvas.

"Sept. 26th: We stopped at Chalons-sur-Marne, and as we did not stop for breakfast we thought we were only going to march a little ways and then camp. We hiked until 5.00 P.M., a distance of 16 miles, and stopped at Courtisols for supper and for the night. We were billeted in French houses with bunks in them, but the houses were deserted. Only a few people in the town.

"Sept. 29th: No money in sight yet, but we signed the payroll today, so those who live through the next battle ought to get some money in about a month. At 6.30 we marched out on the road alongside of a fleet of camions (trucks). From 8.00 P.M. to midnight we were jolting along the stone road; everything dark; not a light anywhere. I don't see how the driver sticks to the road in the dark, but he sure does and turns corners too. At midnight we were ordered to get out and walk. After walking six kilometers we were told to camp in the woods. We got out of the camions at Suippes and this woods is the Bois de la Cote. Slept from 2.00 A.M. to noon.

"Sept. 30th: Awake at noon. The officers have their tin hats on, but are riding their horses; can't understand that. If we have horses around we should be far from the front; if we have tin hats on we should be close. I guess we are in the twilight zone which is 'so near and yet so far.' A French sausage balloon is anchored to a truck near us. All of a sudden the observer jumps out and they begin to haul the balloon down among the trees. The observer made a good landing and by the time the German plane he saw coming towards him flew over our heads, the balloon was down among the trees.

"Oct. 1st: Lay around in the woods all day. After dark we packed up and started hiking single file, our tin hats on and our gas masks laced to our chests. We are hiking to Somme-Py. We are to start from there to take Blanc Mont Ridge and go as far beyond as possible. As we marched towards the front We met the French wounded coming back on stretchers built on two bicycle wheels that the men push along. At midnight we heard a shell coming over us and we ducked. At 4.00 A.M. we reached a railroad grade about 20 feet high in which we were told to dig in. Good place to camp in on the side away from the front, and the grade is so steep that the shells can't hit us. Dug in and went to sleep about 8.00 A.M.

"Oct. 2d: Awoke at 8.00 A.M. and saw our surroundings. About 150 feet behind us was a château, a big mansion with a stone fence around it. The enemy had been using this as a target and had it full of holes. Right behind this fence was our field telephone, and a man sat there with receivers on his ears writing orders and sending them. If a shell should hit the stone fence near him it would bury him; and although I would not want to be where he is, I suppose that he has got the old idea so common here that 'If I am going to be hit, I will be; so why worry.' Considerable shell fire all day—more holes in the wall and in the chateau. We shot at some airplanes now and then—that is the gang did; I haven't fired a shot yet and I'm not going to until I see something that I can hit. Our overcoats were brought in after dark and we worked around in the darkness getting as good a fit as possible. The 89th Division had them at St. Mihiel.

"October 3d: At 4.30 A.M. the whistle blew and we packed up and stood by. The 6th Marines were to have half the front the first day, and we were to support them. The 9th was to have the other half today and the 23d tomorrow. The two regiments in the front line pulled a good stunt last night. At 11.00 P.M. they sneaked over into the German front line in the darkness and captured all the Germans there, then stayed there all night unbeknown to the Germans in the second and third lines, and used the German front lines as a jumping off place. Then in place of a barrage of several hours' duration, the artillery opened up only five minutes before the attack started, so by the time the Germans were half ready, the front line was past the second and third lines and on their way to Blanc Mont Ridge. We, in support, follow the 6th Marines by 600 yards; started from behind the railroad grade just before dawn and got into formation on the other side of the grade. We advanced in line of combat groups. Crossed a creek and waded in water a foot deep, just enough to get wet. Broad daylight arrived, the sun shining brightly, and we had no fog to screen us. The enemy balloons behind the lines were giving instructions to the artillery—which there was plenty of—so they started to shell us for fair. About a hundred yards from the German front line trench shell fire was so heavy that we made a run for the trench and had to stay there for about ten minutes waiting for it to ease up a little. When the fire became not quite so heavy we reached a narrow gauge railroad where we stopped again. On the barbed wire hung limbs of men who had been blown up before, around which lay blue cloth, the remains of the unsuccessful attacks of the French on this place.

"Up again, and here comes machine gun fire from the left. We drop and lay perfectly still in the grass and weeds; someone from the extreme left will be sent after the machine guns. The firing stops. The whistle blows and we are up and start again. Sometimes when the whistle blew I got up real quick and looked around. Outside of the men right next to me, I could see no one. Six inches of grass, and the color of the army uniform made us invisible. If we could lay still all the time it would be soft. Looks funny when the whole line stands up and starts to move again; just like they came from nowhere. Now and then a man was killed and a wounded man called 'First Aid'—then the call for the 55th Company stretcher bearers; but this isn't bad yet. At noon we swung to the left, stopping our forward advance, and jumped into a trench running the way we were going. Our battalion joined the 6th Marines in front, and the 10th Battalion of French Chasseurs in rear. We are strung out in a trench with the Germans in the woods ahead of us. Every now and then machine gun fire comes our way. About five o'clock we moved back in the trench to our original position. The French were coming up the communication trench and filling in with us. Then a heavy barrage began which plastered around us.

"As the sun went down we started to make ourselves comfortable. At 1.00 A.M. word was passed: '55th Company chow one kilometer back.' I was detailed with five men to go after it. On our way up the trench it was evident that other points in the woods had caught it also. Here and there were dead men lying in the trench. Soon we reached the top of Blanc Mont Ridge, where the 6th Marines and 9th Infantry had been since yesterday noon. They were dug in in a shallow trench right on the top of the hill, but with trees to screen them from the air."

From the diary of Sgt. Bernard J. McCrossen, MG Co., 23d Infantry:

"At daybreak October 3, after a short artillery preparation, we went `over the top,' successfully taking Blanc Mont, a position of great military importance to both French and Germans. This was not accomplished easily. We suffered great casualties. At 10.30 A.M. we stopped and consolidated; again resumed the attack and halted about 1.30 P.M. and dug in. We had made a fine advance and expected to stay in this position until the next morning, but our expectations were badly shattered when just before dark we received an order to attack again. This time we advanced two kilometers, halting near the Medeah Farm and dug in for the night, and stayed until 3.00 P.M. the following day. Here we received another order to attack, without artillery preparations. We had advanced only 150 yards (3.30 P.M.) when we ran into very heavy machine gun fire from the Boche. It was impossible to drive them out as they had us flanked from all sides. We were forced to fall back to our former position, suffering heavy casualties. At about 9.00 P.M. we were ordered to fall back for about two kilometers, leaving only two companies as an outpost.

"At 7.00 A.M. the following morning, Oct. 5th, we went forward and took up the positions we had left the previous night remaining until Oct. 7th, when we were relieved by the 36th Division. We went back seven kilometers into reserve, staying there one day and part of a night. At 1.00 A.M. we were awakened and told that bad news was awaiting us, and were informed that we must go back in the lines to support the 36th Division. We promptly moved out and arrived in support positions directly in rear of the front line, before daybreak. Here we stayed all day and night and at 10.00 A.M. were ordered to the rear. We started for the rear one squad at a time as German observation was such that it was not good policy for a whole company to move at once. We arrived at our former reserve positions at 3.00 P.M. At 6.00 P.M. orders came that we were relieved entirely. It should be known that we were under heavy shell fire from the time we hit the lines until we were relieved."

Extract from the diary of Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th FA:

"We arrived at Suippes on September 29, where things were lively. The guns were pounding away night and day; several hundred prisoners were coming in, all anxious to get cigarettes. They would swap almost anything for a pack of butts. One German could speak fairly good English and said he was in the Prussian Guards. He inquired about our regiment and when we told him he began to laugh. He told us that his regiment had been against ours at Chateau-Thierry in June, and that he was at Vaux when we bombarded the town. He said: ran like Hell! You fellows sure did treat us rough.' One question they always asked was 'How many Americans were in France'; and 'didn't the submarines torpedo our ships.' When we informed them of the number of our troops in France, they seemed shocked. Of course, we always gave a good measure in our favor, but they were surely duped.

"The weather was getting quite cool, especially towards night. The following morning we received word that we were going up that night. Everybody got busy and cleaned up. We always tried to clean our clothes, especially our underwear before going up as we surely would need the change at the front. About 5.00 P.M. we had supper and after supper packed up.

"About 8.00 P.M. we pulled out, hiked till eleven P.M., waited around until 1.00 A.M. French soldiers were to meet us, but they didn't show up. We were all asleep when a big shell landed within a few yards of us. Our major came tearing down the road on a fast horse and gave orders to get the Hell out of range. We didn't have to receive a second command, and though the road was narrow, I bet we turned around in nothing flat. . . .

"We went into position about seven o'clock but didn't fire until around midnight, Oct. 2. At 12.30 A.M., Oct. 2, we received orders to be on the alert. Our infantry was going over at 3.00 A.M.; their objective was Blanc Mont Ridge. Ours was the only American division in this sector. At 1.00 A.M. we received orders to fire so we blazed away for two hours. At 3.00 A.M. we lifted our barrage; our infantry went over. We received word at 6.00 A.M. that the Germans were offering severe resistance. The German troops opposing us had a division of Bavarians, mostly all young men; they surely fought every inch. Our infantry captured the hill twice and were forced to withdraw. We couldn't fire to assist them as they expected to try again. The German artillery was raising the devil with us; one shell killed eighteen horses that were being fed in a ravine about a hundred yards back of us. Our position was continually under fire—it was a case of moving front or back. We moved ahead to within three hundred yards of our infantry. Quite a few prisoners were coming in, also several hundred wounded. The Germans were making us pay dearly for every inch we gained. They wouldn't give in. Our barrage raised havoc with the Germans. They must have tried to get away with their artillery, but the God of War must have said `No !'—some of their horses were cut in two. We went into position about half a mile beyond Somme-Py. . . .
"Towards noon our infantry got possession of the hill and kept it. While moving out of our position, we came directly under fire of a German gun. We could hear its report and immediately a shell would land among us. We realized we were in for a hot time. We finally made it to the field and were fortunate as only five men were wounded in getting through. We stayed on the road about thirty minutes. Our captain sent a runner ahead to notify the infantry and in about five minutes the gun was silent. The Germans had hid the gun in the woods and our infantry had passed through and missed it. As soon as the infantry passed they must have pulled the gun out and commenced firing. As we moved forward we saw the gun and gunners, all dead around the gun.
"We went into position on the edge of a ravine where the underbrush was three or four feet high, an ideal place for artillery, but it was not pleasant to be in as it began to rain heavily. About two o'clock all of us were drenched to the skin. We hadn't been here long before shells began to fall among us. The part we couldn't make out was that the guns were being fired from behind us. We naturally blamed the French as they had their heavy artillery a few miles back of us. Our captain finally informed us of our position. We were in a pocket as the French on either side of us had failed to advance and the Germans' guns were firing from our right flank. We sure had a lively time here all night.

"Our position was constantly under fire between the artillery and the aviators. We were drenched, cold and hungry. We couldn't get to our kitchens as the Germans were raising Hell with the roads in back of us. One of the guns alongside of us was put out of commission about midnight. A shell dropped beside it. Gee! that gun crew was lucky nobody was injured. I somewhat envied that bunch as they could turn in for the night. About 1.00 A.M. we heard a peculiar noise coming through the air. It sounded so odd. It landed within a few yards of our gun and dropped with a thud. We all dropped to the ground and waited—nothing stirred. We took it to be a dud—a shell that fails to explode. We forgot all about it, but the next morning when we went looking for the would-be shell, it turned out to be the trail of one of 'A' Battery's guns. The Germans had made a direct hit, cut the gun all to pieces and cleaned out the gun crew.

"At 4.00 A.M. we received word to cease firing. Gee! it was welcome. We were all tired and hungry and turned in for a nap—we had dug holes the afternoon before. The ground around us was all chalk. It was some job trying to sleep. We had a hole about five feet long, two feet wide, and three feet deep and four of us were trying to occupy it. It couldn't be done, so we had to sleep sitting down. Everytime a shell would land anywhere near us the earth would shake and the dust fairly choke us. Between our friends the cooties and the fine dust dropping all over us we were kept busy scratching. We managed to get to sleep just in time to be awakened to start firing again.

"Our kitchen arrived and we had our first warm meal in forty-eight hours. Maybe the coffee wasn't good! While eating our dinner I watched an interesting air battle. I couldn't distinguish which was friend or foe. There were five planes flying exceptionally high; we could just about hear the noise from their machine guns. . . . One of the planes started to come down—then all of a sudden it burst into flames as its gasoline tank exploded like a ball of fire. It kept coming down towards the woods where we were, passing directly over us, but we couldn't see a thing of the plane itself—just one mass of flames; but it was still under control. I surely admire that pilot. We watched him until he was out of sight and all hoped he would pull through. . . .

"Towards evening our Major came and told us that he had been in touch with the infantry and found out that the Germans were massing troops on both sides to try and cut us off. We were three miles ahead of both flanks; our front only covered about two miles, so we were in a serious position. We all felt very gloomy. At seven it rained in torrents again. We received word to be ready to fire at nine o'clock as the French were going to attack and try to bring up the flanks. We started firing and were surely busy until 2.00 A.M., when we were ordered to cease firing.

"I went ahead about three yards to turn out our 'aiming post lights' —small electric bulbs on a stick eight or ten feet in front of the gun—when I started to sneeze and noticed a peculiar smell around, just like hot chocolate. I called Sergeant Billy Locklear. Bill took a sniff but he couldn't make out what it was. We called one of the officers who said it was gas and we got busy putting on our masks. In about an hour I started to feel funny, vomiting and a fierce headache. By morning I felt like a dish rag. Some of the boys went out and looked around and found a shell hole within four feet of our gun. It must have landed while we were firing as none of us heard it explode. One of the boys had hung his belt and revolver on a tree, and in the morning the gun was missing; later we found it on the ground cut in two. It must have been a piece of the gas shell that cut it. I vomited all day and my head surely ached. I couldn't eat but surely could drink water as I was always thirsty; however, the water wouldn't stay down.

"The French succeeded in bringing up the flanks and we were once more on the move. We went into position in a big field where there were several hundred dead and an awful stench.

"We learned the Germans had retreated beyond the Aisne; but it wasn't our luck. The 36th Division relieved our infantry, but we had to stay as they had no artillery.

"We hiked that afternoon to within three miles of the river, camped overnight alongside of the woods. At 9.00 it started to rain. Gee! how I longed for daylight. I couldn't sleep and the least noise woke me. I guess my nerves were on the bum. In the morning we were off again and into position on a knoll a little to the right of an airdrome. We didn't do much firing here."

From the diary of Captain R. C. Hilton, MG Company, 9th Infantry:

"The night of Oct. 1st the entire regiment moved into the trench system near Somme-Py and remained there that night and the next day. On the following night we marched about fifteen kilometers to a position to jump off on the third. A French guide was to meet us after we had gone about five kilometers, but he did not arrive and we passed practically all night locating our new position. The company marched with heavy machine guns and a supply of ammunition from about 6.00 P.M., Oct. 2 to about 5.00 the next morning, and the men were just about exhausted when they finally arrived. We were then attached to the 3d Battalion for the attack, this battalion being the regimental reserve.

"The French troops that we relieved here had been trying to advance their lines for some time, gaining ground one day, only to lose it the next. They told us that it was no use trying to advance because it couldn't be done. However we did not know that it could not be done, so we went ahead and did it.

"At 5.45 A.M. our artillery began firing and at 5.50 we started over the top. Just as the company and the 3d Battalion were forming for the advance, the Germans seemed to fire every piece of artillery they had at the area in which we were forming. Shells were hitting among us, wounding men every few minutes. Lieut. W. C. Allen was killed by a shell while he was giving first aid to Pvt. Dixon who had been wounded. Dixon was killed by the same shell.

"We moved forward in a hurry to get out of this 'hot' position and fared better as we advanced. The advance was at the rate of a hundred meters every four minutes, following the assault battalion. The fields and woods were thick with enemy machine gunners. At one point in the trenches near Medeah Farm two enemy machine gun gunners fired at our backs after we passed and even continued to fire until one of our tanks advanced within fifty yards of them and blew them to pieces.

"The objective was Medeah Farm which was reached without halt and where our line was organized. From here two machine guns from our company fired into hostile artillery stopping the artillery and causing them to change position. Here we were receiving German artillery and machine gun fire from both flanks and the front, as the French had failed to advance on our right, and there was a gap on our left. They finally came up about four days later, but we had many casualties before this time.

"From Oct. 4 to the 10th, the 3d Battalion and this company held a sector of the front line in one of the hottest places we had encountered so far. The enemy shelled us continually and casualties were high. The worst of this situation was that we could not get revenge by firing back, but our artillery was doing this for us.

"The 141st Regiment (36th Division) relieved the 9th Infantry on Oct. 9 and we moved back in camp near Somme-Suippes on the 10th for a rest and reorganization. This company marched to Courtisols for billets on Oct. 14th and remained there one week in training for the next attack."

From the diary of Sgt. Karl McCune, 55th Co., 5th Marines:

"The night of Oct. 9th, the company proceeded to the rear, having been relieved by a company of the 36th Division. It was a good night for hiking and the men covered the ground rapidly. A brigade of the 36th was lined along the roadside in Somme-Py waiting the order to go forward. Outside the town were long lines of escort wagons, field kitchens and auto trucks of the 2d Div. The battalion proceeded in single file winding in and out between mules and wagons. Having passed the traffic the battalion reformed. It then hiked along over the devastated area that marked the old Hindenburg line for a distance of twelve kilometers, halting in a wood about three kilometers from Suippes where it bivouacked for the night. The next morning the march was continued, through Suippes, toward Somme-Suippes where the company left the battalion and proceeded towards St. Remy. On Oct. 12th we marched to Suippes where every man put his clothes through the cootie machine, took a bath, and received new underwear. The next day the company prepared to march to a new area. We marched to St. Remy and to our new reserve position after a march of 20 kilometers. We were in barracks in a forest about two kilometers from St. Etienne. * * *

"On Oct. 20th the battalion packed up to move and at 1.30 shoved off for the front lines. Near La Cheppe we passed barracks occupied by the 9th Infantry. Splashing through the mud and rain for three hours the column reached the highway which it followed for three kilometers. Here billeting sergeants met their companies and guided them to their barracks —old dugouts abounding in rats and vermin. It was now nine o'clock and everybody turned in regardless of the fact that they had had nothing to eat. Eating wasn't essential then; what they wanted was sleep.

"Bright and early the next morning we fed and prepared for the hike which started at seven o'clock. The road led into the former battlefield of Champagne—once so beautiful and wealthy, now devastated, ruined, worthless. Every inch of ground was torn up, either by trenches or shell holes; barbed wire lay everywhere. A kilometer stone along the road read '1 kilometer to Perthes'; and though our vision covered many kilometers, nowhere could we see a village. After ten minutes hiking we came upon what was once a village. There wasn't a wall even so much as six inches off the ground; so well had the enemy destroyed the entire village that the whole place could have been carried off in a shovel. At noon we halted on a hillside scarred with shell holes and dotted with skeletons, and along its crest ran the German last line of defense hurriedly erected in vain to stop the avenging Frenchmen. German prisoners repairing roads looked stolidly upon the Marines as they ate their dinner. After eating, the march continued in the direction of Somme-Py. * * *

"At midnight the battalion arrived at a little village a scant ten kilometers in rear of the line and halted for a rest. Then an American officer came up in a car and informed the battalion commander that the Marines were not going over in the morning as had been intended. No better word could have been spoken and everybody breathed a sigh of relief for the strain was too much. The remainder of the night the company spent on the roof of a horse shed.

"At eight in the morning the battalion, still weary, shoved off for the rear along roads busy with advancing supply trains and ambulances. Marines of the 1st and 3d Battalions, 5th Regiment, wanted to know whether or not the war was over on seeing us marching to the rear. We turned off the road to one leading to a former magnificent château now worthless by shell and fire, and here we camped among the trees all day. Two good hot meals were served and everybody began to feel better.

"The following day, Oct. 22d, the battalion hiked back to dugouts and barracks near Somme-Suippes, arriving about five o'clock in the afternoon.

"Here we remained until the 25th when we marched to Somme-Suippes and boarded trucks at 8.00 A.M. past French artillery camps and reserve positions, through St. Menehould and Les Islettes where the men got off.

"Our stay here was for a short duration, only 24 hours, and the next day the march began, hiking along a road through the Argonne Forest. After a difficult march we arrived at 11.30 at our reserve position about six kilometers from the front lines.

"The night of Oct. 30th, the battalion advanced about a kilometer to a position very close to the artillery.

"At nine o'clock on the night of Oct. 3d, the battalions set out for the front line. From the woods in which it had bivouacked the route led across an open field, into a deep ravine, up to the farther slope onto a badly shot-up road, along which the battalion filed passing the 3d Battalion standing by alongside the road, waiting to go into position. We passed a machine gun outfit going towards the front line. Then we came upon a ridge lined with artillery, and all along the road lay bodies of Germans and Americans who had made the complete sacrifice and were still unburied. A half kilometer further the battalion reached the main road running parallel to the lines which it followed going to the left. The 1st Battalion was digging in on the right side. Then we turned off to the right into an open field, formed the two-wave skirmish line about a hundred yards in advance of the '75's. The Germans were occasionally dropping shells near us. It was now eleven o'clock, and far on the left a single machine gun opened up, followed by machine guns all along the line in rear of the 2d Battalion, giving direct and indirect fire on the German lines. The noise was deafening. Then the '75's and heavy artillery began a bombardment of the hostile lines. The enemy artillery counter-barrage dropped shells everywhere inflicting a few casualties. The bombardment, which was more intense and venomous than any ever before thrown over the heads of the Marines, was still thundering when the 1st Battalion of the 5th passed through the 2d Battalion positions, advancing to the attack. At distance of between 600 to 800 yards the 2d Battalion went over, the 55th Company in support.

"We advanced through a grove of trees, across swampy ground and a small stream running between two slopes. Hostile artillery dropped shells on the top of the ridge directly in front of the company's advance, which were avoided by veering off to the left and encircling the position. In front of the shelled area was a strong point where the 1st Battalion captured about forty prisoners and a number of machine guns.

"The American barrage was about a kilometer ahead of the 2d Battalion. We continued our advance over hills dotted with clusters of trees. About noon the 2d Battalion skirmish line halted for ten minutes in an old trench, dug in on a hill; on the next slope was the 1st Battalion which had reached its objective. The enemy were in full retreat. The skirmish line passed a wood heavily shelled by American artillery and at this time a Boche plane swooped low overhead, coming out of the mist that overhung the sky, then making off towards the German lines. All the Marines opened fire on the aviator, but he escaped unscathed.

"On the left in a small hollow was a village defended by machine guns which now opened fire. The company encircled the town, passed several dugouts, up the slope of a ridge, coming upon several well-camouflaged artillerymen's dugouts on the farther slope. The Germans were in full retreat leaving everything behind. Finally our skirmish line reached a line of trenches near the top of a ridge, where the battalion halted and dug in. This was not our objective, however, so in a short time the attack was resumed, over a ridge, down the slope, across a stream, and then up the next hill, where we halted and dug in, this being the battalion objective. The 3d Battalion in skirmish line, filed through us and took up the advance. Here we remained all night. At nine o'clock cooked rations were brought up, and it began to rain. Gas sentries were posted and the men turned in.

"The morning of the 2d was foggy and drizzling and the battalion continued to hold the position. At noon a German plane swooped down through the clouds, flying low over the two battalions, and then returned to its lines. Hostile batteries were now firing upon us and it was pouring rain.

"At six o'clock in the evening a battalion of the 9th Infantry filed through the battalion lines.

"The morning of the 3rd at about five o'clock the 2d Battalion, without stopping to eat breakfast, advanced again, in column of squads. It arrived at four o'clock on a plateau where orders were to dig in.; Several Allied and German planes above were engaged in a furious duel. An '88 gun crew, missed by the 9th Infantry in its advance, planted shells on the line until a one pounder crew was brought up and put it out of action. Rations arrived at nine, and it was still raining.

"During the night artillery units advanced going into position in rear of the 2d Battalion. In the morning they opened a barrage.

"In the morning, the 2d Battalion set out up a road to a town where there was a first aid station; units of the 23d Infantry were on the road. Here we rested for an hour and a half and then advanced and halted in a wood. We cleared the woods on account of hostile artillery fire and dug in for the night along a roadside.

"The following morning we advanced about three kilometers and again dug in. Here we were bombarded by artillery, and airplanes dropped shells over us.
"Two nights later we went to a position in rear of Beaumont. This reserve position was occupied for two days and we dug in. Everybody shaved and cleaned up as far as possible. The night of the 9th the battalion advanced to relieve a battalion of doughboys on the front lines. The following night came the orders to cross the Meuse."

From the diary of Captain R. C. Hilton, MG Co., 9th Infantry:

"After a week of rest at Courtisols the 9th Infantry started to march to join the American First Army at the Meuse-Argonne, having been relieved from duty with the French Fourth Army. The march was via Valmy, Les Islettes, Chemin Romain trenches, through the forest to a woods just south of Exermont where all the infantry regiments of the division were assembled.

"About Oct. 28th, General Summerall, commanding the American V Corps in this engagement, assembled the battalions in an open field a few miles behind the front lines and addressed each battalion, explaining the mission to be accomplished. This address had a big effect upon all of us.

"The attack started from a position about four hundred yards south of Landres-et-St. Georges at daybreak Nov. 1st, with the Marine brigade attacking, the 3d in support. The 9th Infantry went forward in a column of battalions, this company taking a position near the trenches with the mission of delivering a barrage on the enemy lines at and around Landres-et-St. Georges from "H" hour minus two to "H" hour plus one. After three hours of continuous firing this company joined the 3d Battalion of the 9th for the attack. The company had to march through the other two battalions to join its own battalion near Landres-et-St. Georges. The enemy fired machine guns in our direction, wounding Sgt. Tom Polman, who had been wounded by just sixteen machine gun bullets before this engagement, forming a perfect cross on his body.

"On the night of Nov. 2d, the 9th relieved the 5th Marines and jumped off at 5.30 A.M. from the division exploitation lines. This line was reached by marching in column through the 5th Marines and through the enemy's lines. At 9.30 A.M. the objective was gained; here the enemy held us up by artillery and machine gun fire, so we dug in and remained in position all night.

"On the night of the 3d, the famous night march through the German lines took place. The 9th was commanded by Colonel Van Horn and it took up advance guard formation and led the march in column of two's at dusk. Machine gun resistance was met from the beginning, but these guns were soon put out of action. German soldiers were heard talking all through the woods, but our move was so quiet and orderly that the Germans evidently though that we were their troops and they did not fire on us. At two points on the road German camps were located. Lt. Colonel Corey, in command of the column, ordered Major Janda, who commanded the 3d Battalion, to attack as we came to these camps. The regiment was held up occasionally on this account while a lively fire fight took place. The Germans were so surprised and confused that they did not put up much of a fight. Our objective, about eight kilometers through the woods, was reached with very few casualties and we took up a defensive position north of the woods facing Beaumont. A farmhouse at La Tuilerie at the north edge of these woods was used as a signal post by the enemy and we found it lighted and full of Germans. The house was surrounded and fifty prisoners, several horses and pieces of artillery were taken. There was no occasion to fire machine guns during the march; however, they were used to good advantage to organize and strengthen the infantry position as soon as the halt was made.

"At 9.30 A.M. on the 4th, the 2d and 3d Battalions attacked to gain a ridge east of Beaumont, where we met strong machine gun resistance and suffered many casualties. Most of the hostile machine gunners were killed or captured. This company was reduced to two skeleton platoons.

"During the night of Nov. 4th, the 23d Infantry marched through our lines and drove the enemy farther back. The following night the 9th marched through the 23d and continued the advance. This 'leap frog' movement continued until we reached the Meuse River and the enemy was driven across the Meuse.

"At 6.30 P.M., Nov. 8th, the 2d and 3d Battalions held positions on the west bank of the Meuse. The 3d Battalion made several attempts to cross the river on the night of the 9-10th. This company took up a position to assist; but the crossing here was impossible. However, these attempts attracted the enemy's fire and helped the 2d Battalion and the 2d Engineers make a crossing farther up the river on the night of the 10th. The enemy used direct artillery and machine gun fire from the heights across the river to fire on all parts of our line. Getting up rations was very difficult because the noise of the ration carts always drew hostile fire.

"About 8.00 A.M., Nov. 11th, the glad tidings reached us that the Armistice had been signed and the firing would cease at 11.00 o'clock that day. Words cannot express the happiness of those who had suffered so during the attack and who had missed death only by the Grace of God. Promptly at 11.00 o'clock the Germans at Mouzon began coming out of the buildings and celebrating on the street. They came to the river bank and beckoned us to join them in their celebration; but we kept our distance and celebrated among ourselves."

From the diary of Sgt. Karl McCune, 55th Co., 5th Marines:

"Nov. 17th, at 5.00 A.M., reveille sounded. For a brief time the quiet of the sleeping village was broken by the preparations for departure. Packs were rolled up immediately and wagons loaded. Breakfast was served at 5.30 with night still over-shadowing. At 6.40 all companies formed for departure. Wagons and mules crowded the streets, making it almost impossible for movement of troops. Finally the battalion left town proceeding in a column of two's along the heights skirting the northern bank of the Meuse. The 55th Company was second in the column and the route led towards the east for about three kilometers, then swung towards the north over a shell-torn road, through a forest cut to a shambles, down a hillside onto a road running through a valley in the direction of the Belgium border. Malandry, the first village of the repatriated area, was entered about 10.30. A sign of 'Welcome' stretched over the road. Civilians rushed out to greet the Marines with cries of 'Vive les Americaines' and 'Vive l'Amerique.' The column passed through Villy, a neighboring village, receiving the same welcome, then turned off across swampy fields, over a foot bridge across a small tributary of the Meuse. Here the battalion halted.

"It was Sunday and the civilians, dressed up in their best clothes, crowded about, advancing greetings. A few assembled at the head of the 55th Company with accordions and played and sang the Marseillaise. Most of them were women. Meanwhile the company stacked arms and unslung equipment while the battalion billeting officer hunted billets. About this time the escort wagons and galleys, which had advanced by a different road, pulled up and the galleys began immediately to prepare chow.

"A platoon was to be sent out as advance guard to Les Deux Villes and by 2.00 o'clock they ate a hasty dinner and prepared to shove off.

"Les Deux Villes lay beneath a height in a rich valley where the platoon arrived and billeted in a school house. The inhabitants received them royally, treating them to coffee, milk, and if they had it, all the potatoes they could eat, entertaining them after they had eaten with stories of German atrocities. * * *

"The next morning at 6.00 A.M. the men proceeded to resume their hike, straight north, entering Pouilly an hour later. Very few people were abroad. Mogues was reached about 7.30 where the column halted. At 8.00 the march was resumed; entered the foot hills. At 10.30 Villiers, a village perched on the top of a high hill on the French border, was sighted. Great enthusiasm was shown by the civilians who ran far out beyond the town to meet the advancing column. A group of young boys and girls carrying flags, placed itself in advance of the leading unit and marched before the battalion into town. Cries of 'Vive les Americaines' greeted the Marines on every hand. At ten o'clock the border was crossed and the battalion halted and ate its first meal on Belgian soil. We marched through hills into a rolling plain. We reached a demolished village through which long lines of French wagons were passing, the streets lined with civilians who were very glad to see the Americans. At the outskirts of Tintigny many people thronged the road to escort the battalion into town. In the town itself, women, children, young girls and old folks were crowded about eight deep along the roadside who shouted the habitual cry 'Vive les Americaines', to be answered with 'Vive la Belgique' by the equally enthusiastic Marines. At the edge of a town two kilometers beyond the battalion halted. It was 5.00 P.M. and dark. The men were tired and hungry after their twenty-five kilometer hike and anxious to get rid of their packs. Although everyone was tired and footsore from the hike, there were many who went into the Belgian houses where they were liberally entertained by the civilians. The girls danced with them, sang, and drank wine.

"Nov. 20th the march was resumed. The 2d Battalion was now part of the main body of the division. It was a very warm day for hiking, but the people greeted the column with great enthusiasm.

"At the outskirts of Stockem, a village near Arlon, the battalion met a very enthusiastic crowd of civilians. In Arlon greeting[s] were not so marked as they had been, no doubt on account of the fact that the infantry had arrived before the 5th Marines. Here we were billeted in old brick barracks. After unslinging equipment and without waiting for chow which was being prepared, the greater part of the battalion went out into the streets joining the throng of soldiers and civilians that wandered about everywhere. It was a very lively city.

"The next morning at 5.00 A.M., reveille sounded. Footsore and weary in every limb, the Marines arose, made their packs and went down to their meager breakfast. Then the company assembled and marched to a side street, stacked arms and unslung equipment. Soldiers and Marines were everywhere. The 9th and 23d Infantry marched by in the direction of Luxemburg.

"About 7.30 the 2d Battalion started off on a road to the left of that taken by the rest of the division and made for the Luxemburg border. Few people were abroad. From now on it was noticed that very little enthusiasm was shown towards the Americans. At 10.00 A.M. Luxemburg was reached, and a few barefooted children ran about, but the civilians contented themselves with peeping through the windows on the passing column.

"We passed through the small village of Huttange filled from one end to the other with manure piles. About 2.00 P.M. we reached Useldingen where no civilians graced the streets and when we were billeted they appeared not to like the idea of Americans sleeping in their houses and were loathe to open their barns. The billets here were crowded, but we found straw plentiful, so everybody made the best of it.

"Nov. 22d the march was continued and the company was billetted [sic] in several large farmhouses near the castle of the Grand Duchess of Luxemburg. Several of the company bought pigs, roasted, at the cost of forty francs.

"At 8.00 A.M. the next morning we struck out along the main highway to Luxemburg City. The way lead among hills, becoming more and more difficult. The road led up a long grade, through a forest, and on to a main highway leading out of Diekirch. The company was billeted at Medernach in the lower part of the town, where at first it was difficult to secure billets, the people pleading illness or lack of space in houses or barns. Finally every man was taken care of.

"The battalion remained here eight days where a drill schedule was received after the first day, when the men cleaned up and rested. After drills the men resorted to the kitchen fires in the homes of the civilians where they ate waffles, potatoes prepared in every shape and manner, and apples. The people overcame their early hostility and began to like the Marines. Thanksgiving was spent here, the dinner consisting of bacon and mashed potatoes.

"On Nov. 29th the battalion hiked to a village where regimental headquarters were located and assembled with the rest of the regiment, participating in the ceremony of the decoration of the regimental colors and the award of DSC's.

"December 1st, thoroughly rested and in good condition, the men were ready to resume the march to the Rhine. At 1.30 A.M. reveille sounded and the men packed up. It was pitch dark when the men arose, made their packs, and hurried to the galleys to draw their ration of monkey meat. Many went without breakfast rather than eat the stuff.

"At 3.00 A.M. the battalion marched in column of two's towards the border, passing several sleeping villages. The last village in Luxemburg was passed at 6.30 A.M.

"At 7.00 A.M. we crossed into Germany by way of Wallendorf. It was Sunday and the people were going to church, and they looked curiously upon the column as it toiled up the road that led up the side of a hill towards the German interior.

"As we marched a number of Germans gazed at us without commenting on the passing column. Seimerich and Korperick were passed before entered Neuerburg, a large-sized town about 3.30 P.M., the men well-nigh exhausted and famished. Our breakfast was negligible and the dinner very poor. The civilians stayed inside not daring to look upon the ferocious Americans.

"The march was resumed on a hard, well-made road, the men's shoulders aching and their feet blistered. At 6.00 P.M. the column halted and waited for their billets. The supply train came up and the mules were so tired and blown that they could hardly stand on their feet. We were billeted in barns and houses of German farmers, about a kilometer across the field. Though the galley prepared a good supper, few men ate. It was raining and we were so tired that our hunger could wait, so pulling off our clothes, we dropped into the straw and slept."

From the diary of Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. "C", 15th FA:

"Nov. 11th. We arrived at Beaumont and everybody was running around, everybody laughing. One old French lady was hugging and kissing the boys. I was surprised to see her in town as I had been going through Beaumont for five or six nights and days and never thought of any civilians living there through it all. I shouldn't say living, barely existing in a cellar, never hardly venturing outdoors.

"It was a funny feeling all of us had. Everybody was listening and watching for shells to come over. On my way back to Beaumont I had to stop and listen every once in a while. After months of constant roar of the guns and exploding shells, to have everything stop all at once; the quietness was to much for us; we couldn't believe it was true, and we were lost without the noise. I couldn't get my mind to believe that the war was ended.

"At 7.00 A.M., Nov. 17th, we were off for Germany, our line of march through Belgium, and Luxemburg. We surely wasn't stuck on our pilgrimage. I guess all the boys would have been satisfied to hike twice the distance towards a seaport to get home. However, we were headed for strange countries and that helped to ease our feelings somewhat.

"The first stop was Montmedy, a town partially levelled by the aviators. The French had already put up three or four balloons in the towns. There were several stores, but one couldn't buy anything even though we had money. We hiked until 8.00 P.M., watered, fed and groomed the horses, and at eleven o'clock had our supper and turned in very tired.

"Up the next morning; entered Belgium; passed through quite a large town,—Arlon—but didn't stop though we were objects of curiosity to the women folks, as I guess it was the first time most of them had seen any Americans. They had several home-made flags—three or four stripes and a few stars—stuck on. We hiked until 7.00 P.M. and slept in our pup tents. The weather was cool, especially at night and it rained most every day. We had to hike through the country road as our column was too long to travel through the large towns. By the way, a regiment of artillery with all the wagons and guns extends for a mile and a half. We stopped at several towns in Belgium where the women folk were very kind to us. One little town that we stopped at the women came and insisted that we go and sleep in their houses and we were glad of a chance to get into a dry place.

"Four of us went with an old lady. She showed us upstairs two fine beds—feathers. Oh Boy! Those beds looked good, but we had more respect for the beds. We spread our blankets on the floor and asked the lady to call us at 4.30 A.M. In the morning she came and woke us and found the four of us on the floor. She couldn't understand why we hadn't used the beds. We couldn't explain to her our reason as none of us could speak her language. We were all lousy as cuckoos and we didn't want to leave any cooties in the beds. I really believe the old lady was offended because we hadn't taken advantage of her offer. We finally got one of the boys who could speak her language to explain to her. The Belgians could understand German as the Germans had occupied these parts for four years. We inquired about their treatment while under the German occupation and learned that during the first two years of the war the Germans took most anything they wanted and set their own price on it, especially in regard to grain, hay and all kinds of forage; also that they were very domineering; but during the last two years the natives could bargain about the price of various foodstuffs. We also inquired about the way the women folks were treated regarding various abuses committed by the Germans, and we found out that they had heard of such abuses having been committed in other towns, but none around where they lived. Such was the answer all through our trip through Belgium. I personally never came across one instance where such offenses had been committed. No doubt there had been some; couldn't expect anything different from an invading army, and I honestly believe no army would be immune from such cases where four or five thousand men visit a city after possible months of fighting at the front, especially those that occupied the city as victors. The bars were dropped.

"We met hundreds of soldiers returning from Germany and some of them had been prisoners since 1914. Several had on their old uniforms of red pants and blue coats and they surely appeared funny looking to us. They had walked for days and we shared grub and smokes with them.

"After four days of hiking we arrived in Luxemburg and learned from the natives that the German army was only twenty-four hours ahead of us. We learned also that they took most anything they wanted in the line of eatables and didn't pay any attention to the officers. Every place they camped they never cleaned up after—tin cans and every kind of refuse strewn all over. Also many a big gun and truck was abandoned, deliberately run over the embankment into the woods. We stopped four days in Luxemburg until the German Army moved ahead. Practically every day was the same—our greatest concern was eats and beer; but many a bottle of Cognac was emptied.

"We were on the move once more and arrived in a little town on the German border. The following morning we crossed. Here we were objects of great curiosity from the natives. It was Sunday and they were coming from church. Some gave us a sour look, others smiled, and all were curious. About the first week in December we arrived in quite a large city. Here, we learned, the German aristocrats used to spend their holidays and there were some fine hotels. By the way, we slept in some of the biggest hotels in town. There were some very good baths in town where the water was hot, coming from a spring, something like Hot Springs, Arkansas. All the boys enjoyed a bath and we had a chance to clean our clothes and bodies, which were in much need of hot water. We stayed here four days when we were off again, hiking from seven in the morning until seven at night every day.

"On Dec. 13th, a Friday at that, we crossed the Rhine. Such a day it was ! Pouring rain all day. Everybody was drenched. While we were crossing on the bridge a photographer stood with his camera taking pictures. He kept yelling at us to smile. Yes ! We felt like smiling, wet and hungry. Some of the boys told him to go to Hell. That evening we turned into a field at 8.00 P.M. and pitched camp for the night and were notified that another day's hike would finish the job. We were all glad as everyone was tired and wanted to settle somewhere.

"On Dec. 14th we were off at seven and arrived at Fahr—our town, or at least it was to be ours for four or five months. In the course of a couple of days most everybody was located in the houses. All the inhabitants had to take in two, three or four soldiers. The Government paid twenty-five pfennige a night for each man. Four of us stayed at No. 8, Wilhelm Strasse. An old lady by the name of Timmerman owned the house, but she had vanished when she learned that Americans were to occupy the town. The lady next door had stayed, and after a few days we got acquainted with her and her family.

"We inquired where the lady that owned the house had gone and heard that she had gone to a nephew's house sixty miles away. However, we got after the lady next door to try and persuade the owner of our house to return as we were the sole occupants of her house. She finally arrived after several days and was so afraid she would not even see us. Her impression of us was taken from the Indians, as she told me afterwards. She expected to see us all painted up with feathers in our hair. We had to go next door to bring her in and she surely was scared; she just stood and looked at us. Naturally we couldn't speak German, neither could she speak English, so we could not hold any conversation. One of the boys went for Nick Miller who could speak German, so we got acquainted through Nick. We got Nick to assure her that we were not Indians and that she was the boss of the house; also that we expected her to take care of our room, and that we would pay her so much a week for her trouble. This was satisfactory to her. Well, it didn't take long for her to get to know our names, and many a night's fun we had. All of us would store up from the commissary canned fruit and cakes, and the old lady would spread the table every evening and all of us would enjoy a bite. I managed to pick up the German language fairly well and the old lady would talk to me for hours about different things. Of course, I couldn't understand everything she said, but I managed to get some of it. She washed all of our clothes, but wouldn't take any money for doing it, and the only way we could pay her was to load up her pantry at night with stuff from the commissary.

"Our stay here was the same unending routine—drilling, exercising the horses, a pass to Coblentz once in a while. Some of the boys took a trip back to France. Personally, I didn't care about a furlough under the conditions, as the Military Police were always on the job. The least little violation of army rules would place a fellow under arrest and subject him to two or three months in the mill without pay. Here at Fahr we had our own guards. At poker or craps we either made a few hundred marks or lost, it depended on Lady Luck. If we won, we would have a blow-out; if we lost, why, we could have a party on the other fellow.

"In March, 1919, I was given the job looking after the prisoners—our own bunch who had transgressed the laws and who were committed to the mill for thirty, sixty or ninety days. It was up to me to find work for them. I could always find work—fixing up the base ball grounds, fixing up a place for horses to jump, cleaning the streets, etc.

"We finally received orders to move from Fahr as the 32d Division was going home and we were to take up their territory. We didn't want to move as we were well established, though Fahr was a small town. We had fairly good accommodations right on the Rhine River. Even the natives didn't like the boys to move. However, when the big fellows issue orders, we have to move.

"Our future home was a small village up in the country by the name of Eberdorf. I really felt homesick when we arrived here. Of all the forsaken places, this was one. About fifteen houses and all farmers. Gee ! How we did cuss our luck. There was only one horse in the whole village, and the farmers did all their cultivating with oxen. Every house had big piles of manure stacked up, mostly right alongside of the living quarters.

"We had the same routine every day. Once in a while we borrowed an ambulance and ran down to Neuwied to see a prize fight; also the TM would come up with a flivver and we would borrow a bed sheet, hang it on the line, and all the boys would flock around to see Charlie Chaplin or some of the rest performing. I shall never forget our first movies. All the natives were out in their Sunday best and I believe it was the first movie they had ever seen. The kids went wild. We had Charlie Chaplin on, and those kids went batty. They couldn't get the idea and ran back of the sheet, back to the flivver where the machine was, and run and jump. Everyday the kids asked when were we going to have our next show.

"We stayed at Eberdorf until June when at about 12.00 P.M. we heard that the Germans had refused to sign the peace and we were to occupy more German territory. There was quite a commotion in town; the natives running around half dressed at two o'clock in the morning. The women were all crying, thinking the war was going to start all over again. Also they were afraid of the French occupying the village after we left there.

"At 6.00 A.M. the next morning we were off and arrived at a town called Selters, and here went into position about a mile from town and were told to be ready at a moment's notice. This maneuver was a bluff for the Germans."

From the diary of Pvt. John A. Hughes, Btry. 15th FA:

"We received word one day that everything was settled and soon we would be on our way home. Four of us saddled our nags and started for Selters, and I drank more champagne that night than I ever did before. We received orders during the last week of July to get ready to start for Brest. Oh Boy! that was welcome news. The great day came and we bid goodbye to our German friends and off we went to the station. The train started and all of us gave one grand yell. Our trip took us through Mons, Valenciennes, Arras. The country from Valenciennes to Arras was the worst I had ever seen. For miles on both sides there wasn't a sight of any living thing, not a tree or bush of any kind. It fairly gave one the creeps just to look at it. The trenches were filled with water surrounded with barbed wire, broken guns and tanks. We were glad we missed the Somme; it must have been awful there in winter.

"We arrived at Brest after forty-eight hours ride in the famous French Pullmans and marched to camp. Here we were kept busy bathing and standing inspections. They had a great system to feed us. I heard that they fed five thousand in less than an hour. There were about six doors to the mess hall and two kitchens at each door. The tables were about four feet high, no sitting down, wooden frames with corrugated iron for top. We went out at the opposite end from the kitchen. It was a case of keep sliding towards the other door as we ate. By the time we were through eating, we were outside. It was some job to try and juggle a full mess kit and a cup of coffee, move and eat at the same time. However, we felt that our time was short here and everyone took things in good spirits.

"July 29th we broke camp and were off for the docks and boarded the ship Julia Luckenback for our home trip. Bunks were arranged three in a tier. We had prize fights and concerts every afternoon and evening. Quite a few of the boys were sea-sick. We arrived at Bush Terminal, Brooklyn, August 8th, and received cocoa and cakes from the YMCA and were off for Camp Mills, Long Island. There wasn't much sleep that night as all the boys were talking of their future.

"We paraded in New York on the 9th. Some day! We were on the go from 4.00 A.M. to 11.00 P.M. We were broken up on the 12th, the soldiers from different states going to different barracks; and as the remnant of our old outfit marched before us, all the boys felt like crying. Many a tear was shed when we saw our old colors march by. Everyone saluted. I guess we stood at attention for five minutes after the colors passed us, not a word spoken. I felt then as I have often felt, that silence is the greatest tribute. Little did we realize the attachment that had grown among us until that moment.

"We arrived at Camp Dix, August 12th, and were discharged the next day. One of the clerks asked if I had been through all the engagement that were entered on my discharge. He said it looked funny because I wasn't wounded. I had to laugh at his ignorance and told him that I always kept a rabbit's foot in my pocket.

"Several of us hired a cab and went to a hotel in Trenton and found they were not anxious to accomodate [sic] us. Quite a contrast from a year or two before. Human nature was taking its course and the events of the past three years had been forgotten."