Part 4

Nearly a week later the Germans attempted a raid early one morning, but it was easily repulsed. The work of our detachment during the remainder of the month consisted mostly of carrying occasional patients, and making the climbs back and forth to meals. In some cases this was no small task. Frequently a litter squad would have to go a quarter of a mile or more after rations, and the trails were steep and narrow. Then there were occasional bombardments by the Germans, and the first shell was enough to set everyone going for a dugout. During one bombardment a large shell exploded close to a dugout occupied by three of our men, and caved it in. Covington was one of the three men, and the event was more or less immortalized by his song, a parody on "When you wore a tulip, and I wore a big red rose":

"I was sleeping in a dugout right up close to the front line, Now I was feeling fine, when those Dutch they issued mine; They shot some high explosives right in my dugout door, And since that time my dugout is no more. I grabbed my full equipment then and started back to town, For those dirty kraut eaters had torn my play house down.

_Chorus._

When they blew up my dugout, my most substantial dugout, Then I got right on my toes; And when that shrapnel busted, I was thoroughly disgusted And the speed I made, no one knows. When I started running, my feet had a yearning To go from where the shrapnel flows; So when he blew up my dugout, I got my clothes and tore out, The reason--the Lord only knows."

On another night, when Lt. Vardon and Sergeants Knight and Childs were racing for a dugout, Lt. Vardon ran past the entrance. The glare cast by a nearby shell explosion lighted up the dugout and, doubling back, Lt. Vardon beat Childs into it. A man casts dignity aside and sprints when shells begin dropping around him.

At Mittlach there were no raids in the proper sense of the term. No detachment of the infantry ever went over the top there. But there were numerous casualties among our troops, due to the activity of German snipers and to accidents. Then, too, the German artillery had such an open sweep at the town of Mittlach and the valley below it, that several Americans were either killed or wounded by shrapnel. In fact, the very evening that our main detachment arrived in Mittlach, a corporal of the 137th Infantry was killed by a shell as he stood in the street reading a letter. This was the first casualty in the regiment, so the chaplain decided to give the man a military funeral, firing squad and all. He made the funeral arrangements over the telephone and set the time for the funeral at 9 o'clock the next evening. The time for the funeral came and the procession was just leaving the Alpine Ambulance when the German artillery again began shelling the town. There were, by actual count, just twenty-two men in the street when the first three-inch shell came whining towards the town. It took one of those shells about six seconds to reach Mittlach after it could first be heard, and when the first one exploded nearby, half of those twenty-two men had already scrambled into the door of the nearest dugout. And it was only an average size door at that. This was the first real shelling most of the twenty-two men had experienced, yet they took to cover as if they were used to doing it. On another occasion a sudden bombardment caught Lt. Speck and Lt. Martin unawares. A three-inch shrapnel ushered them around a corner and into a dugout in record time--the one ahead trying to keep ahead, and the one behind, trying his best to get ahead.

The ruined town of Metzeral was the foremost point occupied by any of our litter squads at Mittlach. It was in the main valley to the south and east of Mittlach. The American trenches ran zig-zag through the town--along tumble-down walls, into old cellars and basements, through neglected gardens, and around the corner of the ruined church itself. One ducked instinctively as he passed some of the low places in the walls, for the German trenches were visible a few hundred yards away on the eastern slope of the valley.

The ambulance work at Mittlach and Larchey was done partly by the mule ambulances of Ambulance Company 140 and partly by the Fords of the S. S. U. outfit. From the various advance aid stations, the patients were transported by ambulance to a relay station called Treh, situated about five kilos back of Larchey. Lt. Hancock, of Ambulance Company 137 was in charge at Treh, having two motor and two mule drawn ambulances ready to receive and transport the patients back to the various Field Hospitals, which were located at Kruth and neighboring towns, well out of range of the German guns.

On the whole, the time spent in the Wesserling sector was a period of training for our company, and in fact for the whole Sanitary Train. We learned something about maps and trails, and especially that trails on maps and trails on mountain sides are two very different things. We learned also to respect our gas masks and helmets. They became our constant companions. Indeed, the sight of school children six and eight years old going through gas mask drill in the streets of Mittlach was enough to make anyone think about his gas mask. All the civilians there carried masks as they went about their daily work. We learned too, the value of camouflage along the sides of roads, and also the wisdom of keeping behind it. The litter bearers learned to handle patients in all sorts of tight places, and they did their work creditably. We saw a little example of German propaganda, also. On June 30th the Boche sent small balloons over our lines, and to the balloons they attached cards bearing the following message on both sides:

"Soldiers of the U. S. A.

As we hear from your comrades seized by us, your officers say that we kill prisoners of war or do them some other harm.

Don't be such Greenhorns!

How can you smart Americans believe such a silly thing?"

Needless to say, this sort of propaganda made no impression on the American troops.

We spent nearly a month in the Wesserling sector. At the end of that time, Ambulance Company 137 relieved us at Larchey, and Ambulance Company 140 at Mittlach. We were glad to move back across the boundary line into France and settle in the sleepy little village of Ventron, where we could hang up our gas masks and helmets, and almost forget there was a war.

VENTRON

Ventron, a typical French village, nestles in a peaceful valley. To the right of the town a broad green meadow stretches out, to be broken at the foot of the mountain by a small, sparkling stream of water. The crude stone houses, few in number, are built adjoining each other, forming irregular lines. A large, quaint, high-steepled church, one shop, several cafes and one hotel, probably patronized by tourists in summer, make up the town. The prevailing cleanliness of Ventron naturally impressed us. Without exception, it was the cleanest town in which we were billeted during our stay in France.

Needless to say, a sigh of satisfaction could be heard when word reached us to the effect that we would be billeted in barracks, instead of the usual hay mow. Having learned to adapt ourselves to the surroundings, most of us were by this time able to carry on a speaking conversation with all domestic animals, so this change to cleaner barracks somewhat elated us, for we would no doubt feel more like human beings.

Our duties were few, consisting of "setting up exercises" and perhaps a two-hour hike in the morning, and gas mask drill (a most unpleasant duty) in the afternoon. It was on one of our hikes that we discovered in a secluded spot on the mountain top an old priest's hermitage. Here in a small white stone shack lived this eccentric old man and worshipped in his peculiar way.

Huckleberries and other wild berries grew abundantly on the hillsides, and oftentimes while we were there a volunteer squad issued forth with pails, to return later with pails loaded to the brim with berries. And each evening by the candle light, with "seven-and-a-half" in vogue, we commented most favorably upon those delicious huckleberry pies, just like the ones mother used to make.

During our stay at Ventron a detail of fifteen men was sent to Kruth, 15 kilometres away, to oversee the erecting of a field hospital. From reports that came back, our men were the engineers, and were forced to do most of the work, much to their dismay.

Here also a Y. M. C. A. secretary came to our company, and through him on several occasions we were delightfully entertained. We were now able to purchase cigars, cigarettes, chocolate and other necessities of soldier life.

Bathing facilities were of the poorest--in fact, none at all, as a bathtub is a rare luxury among the French small-town people. Few of us were bold enough to brave the cold mountain stream for a plunge. After things had reached a climax, in that any time during the day a man could be seen frantically scratching himself in a dozen places at once, and singing "They Go Wild, Simply Wild Over Me," the company marched to Cornimont, the nearest town, where we were "decootized," that is, we were given a bath and all of our clothing was sterilized.

One evening at the hotel several of us ate our first "horse steak," at least we were told that it was such, and the more we thought of it the more we believed it true. After three weeks of this life, with plenty of good food, sleep, exercise and entertainment, we were eager to be back in the fray. Moving orders came, and early in August we took over our second sector of the line.

LE COLLET

August 12th, the day we left Ventron, was hot, and being crowded into a dusty truck added nothing to the enjoyment of the trip. We wound up and up the sides of the picturesque Vosges mountains, passing many an old Frenchman plodding along with his oxen and logging wagon. Once we pulled into the gutter to let a long truck train pass, going down the hill. Shortly afterwards one of our trucks, heavily loaded with litters, boxes and men, ran into a hole and came near tipping over the steep bank. After about two hours' work it was gotten out, although it had to be unloaded and reloaded. No further trouble was encountered, and we reached the top of the hill in due time. After the hustle and bustle of unloading we had supper. After supper everyone began to look for a spot to sleep, and most of the men ended the search by making beds on the grass on the hillside.

It was dark when we arrived at Le Collet, and the next morning we had our first view of the camp. Situated on a high range of hills, it would have commanded a wonderful view of the surrounding country but for the tall trees which covered the hills in every direction. The camp was composed of several long, low French barracks, arranged in haphazard style on one side of the road on the hilltop, and many more down the valley, between and on both sides of the forked road leading down to the city of Gerardmer, about twenty kilometres distant. One of the barracks on the hilltop, just at the fork of the road, was used for a triage, our office, supply room and sleeping quarters for several men. About one hundred feet back of this barrack, and reached by a narrow rock road, was a big shed used for housing Gen. McClure's limousine and one or two Ford ambulances. To one side of this road and just in front of the shed was our kitchen, covered by a fly tent.

A French canteen, Red Cross, Y. M. C. A. and Major du Cantonement occupied the remainder of the hilltop barracks. Across the road from the triage was a large barnlike structure which served as the terminal of the electric tramway. This tramway connected Le Collet with Gerardmer by a steam road which came about half way. Its many cars groaning up and down the hill was one of the most noticeable features of Le Collet. It was used for bringing up supplies and also to evacuate patients to the hospitals at Gerardmer.

The 69th Infantry Brigade was ordered to take over from the French the sector immediately north of the front being held at that time by the 70th Brigade. We were ordered to accompany the brigade and evacuate it to Field Hospital 138, which went into action at the little summer resort town of Gerardmer. We were to establish a triage at the camp of Le Collet, which was perched on top of the divide which formerly marked the boundary line between France and Germany.

Our work in this sector, except that of the triage, was carried on at three advanced dressing stations and a relay station. Running from south to north, the dressing stations were Nicholas, Morlier and Richard. The relay post was at Spitzenfels, situated on the road from Le Collet, where it forked to go to Nicholas and Morlier.

The work at Nicholas was taken over by Lieut. Siberts and a detachment of twenty-five men, who established a dressing station in connection with the French Alpine Ambulance Service. The entire detachment, with the exception of six men who remained at the station, was sent to the battalion aid stations to act as litter bearers, their duties consisting of carrying patients from the battalion aid stations to the ambulance station. Detachments were also sent out to Moriez, Miradore, Jourdan, Eck and Amphersbach.

The activities in this area were very small, consisting principally of sniping by machine guns and an occasional artillery duel. The latter sometimes became interesting to the party at Nicholas, because the artillery was directly behind the station and the arc of fire was overhead, both for the Boche and our own boys. Many were the times when they all ducked for a friendly dugout door, to the tune of a screaming shell.

In connection with this station there was a motorcycle with litter sidecar operated by an Englishman. He carried all single cases to Spitzenfels thus relieving the ambulances from extra runs. This Englishman was a good scout and was liked by all.

Lieut. Siberts was relieved a few days after the station was established by a lieutenant of the 162 Ambulance Company, and reported at the company triage to operate that station.

The detail for the dressing station at Morlier left Le Collet shortly after dinner on August 13th, under command of Lieut. Vardon. Our program was to go by truck to Spitzenfels, where, after dark, for much of the road to be traveled was under enemy observation, we were to be picked up by a supply train and taken to our destination. But the best laid plans will sometimes go wrong, and in this case a confusion of orders stopped the supply train before it had gone far, and there was nothing for us to do but proceed on foot. The road was a long one, winding up the mountainside, past the ruins of many buildings that had once been the homes of shepherds, lighted up now and then by a brilliant star-shell, while an occasional rifle shot, or rather a machine gun, sounding almost underneath us, broke the silence. Finally about midnight, after following the many twists and turns in the road, each of which it seemed must be the last, we arrived at our destination.

Morlier was situated about five miles north of Nicholas, on the same ridge of hills. It was built on the opposite side of a small hill from the lines, and about a quarter mile distant. Dugouts and small shacks formed the principal part of the camp, and most of the best dugouts had heavy half-circular corrugated steel ceilings. This metal was painted white to make the interior light. Several rooms in the Alpine Ambulance Station were fixed this way.

The dressing station was established in the Alpine Ambulance. Lieut. Vardon and about nine men formed the personnel of this place. The one outpost was Barbarot, about a half mile to the north. Morlier was approachable by night only by a rock road which wound up the hillside in full view of the German lines. In daylight the only safe way was by a gallery about a mile long which ran over the hill from Camp Bouquet, a branch of which ran down to Barbarot. The gallery was a trench about six feet deep, sided up and roofed over with branches and camouflaged.

In the Alpine Ambulance we found such luxuries as electric lights, piano and talking machine and furniture much better than we had been used to, all taken from "Altenberg," the former summer home of the Kaiser, which was near by. The French and British soldiers there proved to be excellent companions and treated us royally.

We were close to the lines and under constant observation, but when the first two days passed uneventfully our boldness grew. However, just at supper time on the third day "Jerry" woke us up by planting eight shells in the kitchen, and from then on did not let us forget that he was near by. Bombardments were frequent, while wandering German patrols paid our vicinity frequent visits at night. Our work consisted mostly of handling the sick, as there were very few wounded, this being a "quiet" sector.

Our stay was not without its humorous incidents, such as the time when one of our dignified "non-coms," at the sound of the first exploding shell, dove into bed, and, pulling the blankets over his head, remarked that "even a blanket might help some if a shell hit," and the time when our commanding officer, deceived by a false gas alarm, wore his gas mask for nearly three hours in the middle of the night before discovering that we would be breathing only the purest of mountain air without it.

Our pleasant stay at Morlier came to an end when the division was relieved on the night of September 1st. The enemy, scenting a troop movement, kept up a steady bombardment, and it was well towards morning before we were able to make a getaway. The trip was an exciting one, as it was necessary to run a gauntlet of exploding shells. Gas was also encountered, but, in spite of it all, we all arrived safely about daybreak at company headquarters.

Richard was situated in a narrow gap on the bank of Lac Noir (meaning Black Lake). The dressing station there was established by Lieut. Monteith and a detachment of twenty-five men. The outposts were Vignal and Pairis, and detachments of litter bearers were sent to each of those places, which were occupied by the Infantry Battalion Aid Stations. Later Lieut. Bates and six men arrived from Rudlin, where a station had been established but abandoned. Relay litter squads were formed, thus making the work lighter.

The men on outpost duty at Pairis were billeted in an old hotel basement, where there was running water, electric lights and real beds, but even with these luxuries at their disposal they can hardly be said to have had an enjoyable time. This hotel had a road running alongside, and whenever anyone appeared in the road, the Boche immediately opened up on the hotel with high explosives and shrapnel. The boys got to be experts at hitting the cellar entrance on a moment's notice--in fact, they stayed pretty close to it at all times, unless at the kitchen, which was about three hundred yards distant.

The outpost at Vignal was not so well situated, but was rarely shelled. This party took part in a raid which was pulled off just before they were relieved. They went out with the raiding party to its starting point and remained until the raid was over, when they evacuated the wounded to the foot of the hill below Richard, from where the litter cases were taken to the top of the hill by squads from Richard. At Richard there was big preparation when word of the intended raid was received. Two spare ambulances and twelve men were ordered out from Le Collet. When the word was telephoned up that three litter cases were on the way, a detachment of nineteen men went to the bottom of the hill and brought the wounded to the station, where they were dressed and sent to the triage.

The work of both the outposts was highly complimented by the battalion surgeons. The Americans at Richard were relieved by French Colonials. In coming in, the French seemed to have attracted the attention of the Boche, and as a result they received an unmerciful shelling. One litter case and two walking cases was the toll, and they were evacuated through our station, much to the satisfaction of the French authorities.

On August 13th a detachment of six men and two ambulances was sent from Le Collet to the relay post at Spitzenfels. Ambulances and drivers from the 162nd Ambulance Company, 41st Division, were attached to our company to furnish motor transportation to and from the different stations, as we had no ambulances at that time. Spitzenfels was a French Red Cross post and an ambulance relay station. It was located on a mountain side in the midst of a thick pine forest and at a junction of the Paris-Strassburg road, about three kilometres inside of the France-Alsace boundary line. The place had not been shelled by the Germans for four years and was very quiet. The billets were comfortable and rainproof, making it an ideal place to stay.

Upon first taking over the station at Spitzenfels we worked with the French medical men, but they soon left, leaving the entire station to us. The duties were comparatively light, consisting of making a sick call at 9 A. M. to two infantry aid stations, and transferring the sick and wounded back to the triage. Another duty was to give out Red Cross supplies, mostly tobacco and hot chocolate, to the passing soldiers. Most of the Red Cross business was with the French troop, as very few of the American forces knew of the station, and thus were unable to take advantage of it.

At the triage Lieut. Siberts was in charge, with the assistance of a sergeant and three men, and their work testified that they were on the job. They had to unload all ambulances, register all cases, sort out the ones for the various hospitals and reload them into the ambulances, or onto the tram car. They were compelled to work at all hours.

One incident to be long remembered by all the company was the big fire of the truck at Le Collet on the night all the posts were relieved. Two men were attempting to fill a Pierce-Arrow truck with gasoline, by the aid of a candle, when there was an explosion and the entire truck caught fire. The blaze shot thirty feet into the air and could be seen for miles around. It was a wonder that the place was not shelled, because it was as light as day and crowded with soldiers.

On September 1st the order came to move again, and the old routine of packing and loading was on. We were not sorry to leave Le Collet, because our stay had not been long enough to let us become attached to the place. We were not sorry, for another reason. Rumor was, now that our training was over, that we were to go north and take active part in the great battles that were then raging on the western front. The term "shock troops" came into use, and all were proud to belong to a division so designated. With our movement came orders to turn over our dressing stations and triage to Ambulance Company 39, of the 6th Division. This was their first trip up to the front, and as none of them had ever heard a Boche shell ring, we had a lot of fun yarning to them about the things they would soon experience.

THE MARCH FROM LUNEVILLE TO BENNEY

After being relieved in the Vosges sector by the 6th Division, headquarters of the 35th Division was moved from Gerardmer to Rosieres, a rest camp in the Luneville area. In the evening of September 2nd we left Le Collet in trucks, and arrived at Barbey-Seroux about midnight. Pup tents were pitched in an open field, and for two days and nights they served as our homes.