Part 4

The object was still in the same position. Would you believe I actually kept my eyes glued on the thing for nearly two hours. A number of lights were sent up by both sides, but their positions were such they did not help me. Finally, a German white light went up in a direct line with my eyes and the object. What do you think my creeping German was? Nothing but a frame to roll wire on. I certainly was disgusted when I made this discovery.

One cannot help imagining things. Everything keys the imagination up; the steady rifle fire, the occasional cannon, the bursting mines, the flare of the night lights and distant bombardments all tend to put one in a condition to see anything.

It is interesting to observe the difference of speed between sight and sound. For instance, a cannon far in our rear will discharge a shell; the flash is visible from the piece, the whir of the shell as it passes is heard, and the flash as it bursts is seen, then both reports sound almost simultaneous, the discharge of the gun and bursting of the shell. This, of course, only happens when one’s position is almost in the middle of the trajectory.

Another idea of mine which was shattered by actual experience was the action of a bursting shell. From war pictures I drew the inference that at the moment a shell bursts it was possible to see the fragments; not so. The report of the piece is heard, then the whistle of the shell, a puff of smoke is seen and finally a loud report. That’s all, but believe me there is a great deal of power in a shell.

In the second line the quarters were fair. Wide enough for us to stretch out and about five feet high. Each one accommodates a section. The condition of the straw was the same as described before. One night it began to rain and in about half an hour the rain soaked through the earth and dripped on us. We hung our shelter-halves up under the roof to catch the water. These covers performed their duty O. K., but the water leaked in all around them. The first night was not so bad, although the place was wet in spots. It rained during the second day and things became worse: the trenches were in an awful condition, the water being ankle deep in places and the mud beating Cedarhurst’s best to a fare-you-well.

That night, however, was the worst of all. The rain was dripping through pretty steadily and it had begun to get the best of the tent covers in spite of the fact that we emptied them regularly. We eventually turned in and as an almost steady stream was dropping on my head I put my overcoat over it and grappled with Morpheus. I had him flat on his back and was about to rise to the cries of the spectators when my subconscious mind differentiated between the voice of applause and the wail of dismay. Instantly I was awake and poked my head out to see what the fuss was about, but the steady stream forced my cranium under the coat again.

Out of the confusion I gleamed that a tent cover had fallen with the weight of the water and drenched a Greek, two fellows down from me. He was very active vocally: I’ll bet he cursed a few. We were all very uncomfortable. I was telling myself how good it was to be dry when I realized that I was not as dry as I might be. From my shoulders to my feet I was awash in three inches of water. It surely did feel fierce, but it was impossible to better the condition as everything was wet. It was only two a. m. and I prayed for day-light. We managed to dry out pretty well during the day.

I wish we had some of those new patented trench digging machines the World’s Advance tells about, because I have dug about one thousand miles of trenches, or nearly that many. We are constantly digging new and repairing old trenches, so now we have an elaborate system of underground streets.

I certainly do feel fine and enjoy the life, but there is no question about it, war is an asinine thing.

V REMOVED TO THE ARRAS SECTEUR

_(Place Unknown), May 6, 1915._

For many days we knew something was in the wind, but what or when it would happen was a puzzle to all. Some said we were going back to Lyon for a repose, while others maintained we were hound for the Dardanelles.

Finally we got orders to pack all our stuff and be ready to move during the night. About midnight, April 24th, a French regiment relieved us and we marched out of Verzenay. It was a very disagreeable night, and coupled with a chilly, penetrating fog and the rather forced march, we were more or less fatigued when we reached a small town at about five o’clock the next morning: our _escouade_ (squad), the 15th, was assigned to a sort of cow shed. The ground was as hard as a rock and as cold. We turned in, but tired as we were, it was impossible to get much sleep, although we tried to sleep during the day. At five in the afternoon we went up town to see what the place was like; it was a small place with about six stores and overcrowded with soldiers.

When we got back I started to read periodicals received from New York. Outside there was a small yard with a squad kitchen on one side and our quarters on the other. I’ll stop here a second to say a word about the men in our squad.

The corporal could be most anything but I think he is Arab-French; he is a quiet fellow and O. K. There are four Légionnaires with us; one of them has served fifteen years with the Legion and another about ten. These two are naturalized Frenchmen and fast friends. The old-timer has a huge beard and is a very quaint character. I enjoy watching him; he reminds me so much of those gnomes who used to interest me when I was small. The other fellow is short and very brown. The way they confide in each other is really ludicrous. When one has an imaginary illness he takes the other aside and they get their heads together and sympathize with each other; it is laughable. As they share their sorrows they also share their joys. You buy their kind of joy by the canteen full, and believe me they are a joyous pair. The old fellow has been joyous for about fifteen years.

The other two Légionnaires are Belgians and unimportant. Then we have two Italians who remind me of brigands. One is a big husky fellow and the other is a typical dramatic villain; good looking, dashing and all that stuff. We have an Italian kid with us, but he is only a nuisance. The two brigands take an interest in him to the extent of continually kicking and cuffing him around. Well, as I was reading the magazine I heard a noise in the yard and upon going out found the six-foot corporal slugging the five-foot five Légionnaire. I was glad to see it because the little fellow needs a beating. He talks too much. Weeks was out there and did not like the unevenness of the fight so he interfered. The big brigand then came up and hit the little Légionnaire a “beaut,” knocking him across the yard. The little fellow got up just in time to be knocked back across the yard, and the big fellow was going to repeat the performance when Weeks interfered again.

By this time we were all out in the yard enjoying the fun. The argument got pretty hot and finally, as usual, the peacemaker got a wallop in the jaw. The American section acted as if they were all hit, and in fact they were when one of them was hit. In a fraction of a second it was the biggest free-for-all I was ever in or hope to be in. We battled around the yard to a fare-you-well and in no time the guard was on the scene with fixed bayonets, but we still kept on.

In a lull in the action I happened to look around in time to see the villainous looking bandit picking up a brick. I made a bee-line for him and in no time had received a good clout on my bean for my trouble. The guards eventually separated us, but the Americans carried the day. They started to take me to the lock-up but I landed at the infirmary and had my head bandaged. They locked Pavelka up, but he should have come with me, as a friend of the bandits hit him on the forehead with a dish pan. He needed bandaging and soon was sent back for treatment. We all shook hands and called it square.

The next day we marched to the railroad and came north. It was a wretched trip as we were packed closely in freight cars and it took twenty-four hours to come two hundred kilometres, being about one hundred and twenty-five miles. We left the cars at a town called Aubigny, which is about six miles due west of the village of La Targette, but we located in a town nearer the front. At night we marched to the trenches and worked there. It was very dangerous: the outposts being about fifty yards apart. One night the second fellow from me was hit in the stomach. It is good to work under such conditions, as work takes the mind from the bullets; inaction under fire is a terrible strain on the nerves.

We were in the trenches three days, worked all day and at night we went out on the field and laid down four hours at a stretch, to guard against a surprise. To make matters worse it rained and the mud was a foot deep in places. We went back to a small town, arriving there at ten a. m.

We have everything in abundance. I have seen fellows throw shirts and other articles away, rather than wash them, as new ones are always given. There is actually more than enough of everything. We are living like princes.

I was glad to hear that my letter from Bouzy was received. Allowance must be made for the writing as it was done on a two-by-four-foot plank, which I straddled, my feet dangling. We Americans were all interested in the statement in the letter to me, that it has been said the Germans would treat Foreign Légionnaires who were not citizens of France as irregular soldiers; and the suggestions made for us to observe in case of capture will be followed.

VI BATTLE OF ARTOIS; AT LA TARGETTE AND NEUVILLE ST. VAAST

_Somewhere near Aubigny May 16, 1915._

On Sunday morning, May 9th, we were routed out at one o’clock and marched to the trenches, reaching the third line at sunrise, and at five o’clock our artillery increased its already very severe bombardment,—the continual rumble and vibration being beyond description. This lasted until ten o’clock and as soon as it stopped, Battalion C in our section left the trenches, charging with the bayonet.

They carried the trenches with great loss. I understand the Germans were panic stricken by the bombardment and one of their battalions was buried as the trenches collapsed under our heavy artillery fire.

Battalion A followed C and lost a great many; there are two Americans in A, one of them is O. K. while the other was shot twice, in the shoulder and in the leg.

Our Battalion B left the trenches right after A under a heavy rifle and machine gun fire, the ground we crossed being well strewn with dead and dying of Battalions C and A. We charged across fields in a line of skirmishes, and I will never be able to satisfy myself how so many of us got through safely.

When we reached the first line of German trenches we found them battered and destroyed by our bombardment. Soon after crossing them our first stop was in the shelter of a road. Here the good looking bandit, the fellow who hit me with the brick, got reckless and tried to survey the landscape; he was killed instantly by a bullet through the heart. No convulsive tossing of the arms one reads about or sees in the movies—he just sank down and it was all over. Soon after we left this position, the other bandit was shot through the leg. There was absolutely no ill feeling between us on account of our scrap.

We then laid down on the ground and soon the Germans got our range; six men close to me were hit; so we started on again.

The German artillery had opened on us, and the suspense of lying there and waiting to be hit is indescribable. The shells were bursting all around me and one rushed by so close that I actually think a chunk of solidified air hit me on the forehead; anyway, something bruised my forehead. I rushed over and got into the hole, it was five feet deep. I happened to be looking where four men were lying, when a shell blew the four of them to dust.

In my letter from Lyon I mentioned three brothers from Argentina; they were inseparable even in death; they were killed side by side.

We finally took the crest of a hill, it was dusk and we dug ourselves in.

I shall never forget the picture displayed as I looked back across the field in the fading light. It is a nightmare: during the entire night the cries of the wounded rang out. I had a pleasant bedfellow,—a corporal and he lay in the trench, only two feet away. He actually fascinated me. I could not help looking at his brains which stuck out of the back of his neck, exactly like two horns. During the next day they gradually melted until at nightfall they had slid entirely off his neck. Grand, grand indeed, is this butchery they call war!

During the night we were on the watch, and at times the fire from the enemy, aided by the German night-lights, was severe.

As day broke Monday we were ready for the counter attack, which was sure to come and it came early and fierce. Their artillery shelled us in a most desperate manner, and men were killed and wounded in large numbers and very close to me; and again the suspense of expecting to be hit by a shell was horrible.

Bavarian troops were opposite and they made a rush for us, and I am bound to acknowledge that no human beings could have shown more bravery and determination than they did: but our artillery was most effective, and we stood firm in our trenches and smeared them. Their counter attacks all failed and that night we still held the trenches we had dug.

We were entirely out of water both Sunday and Monday, and as a consequence suffered very much.

Early the next morning, before daybreak, reserves took our places and what was left of our regiment returned to the rear for reorganization.

I laugh when I try to think of civilization. But with all we must admit it is a great world and I do not regret that I am here.

_Somewhere near Aubigny, May 20, 1915._

A sergeant was commanding our Company, all the officers having been killed or wounded. Our captain was a very game man; he led us without a sword or any side arms, only using his swagger stick. He was killed by a shell.

We advanced by sections. When the order came we jumped up, and carrying a sack as a shield, ran about one hundred feet,—and talk about Ty Cobb sliding into second base, it isn’t a circumstance to the way I hit the ground. And what a strain it was on the nerves waiting for our turn to advance again, fellows all around being hit. In a couple of cases I have seen men almost lifted from the ground, so hard were they struck. One fellow very near me was hit and began to squeal, almost immediately a second bullet hit him and he made for the rear on all fours crying like a child. The field was full of such sights.

But compared to the shells the bullets are nothing: give me most anything but an artillery bombardment. I cannot figure out how the five of us missed being hit.

The prisoners we took were well fed and clothed, but are sick of the war.

After the attack we were quartered in Mont St. Eloi, about two miles west of La Targette, but as it was in range and the Germans shelled us, we were sent ten miles to the rear to await recruits.

Our regiment lost heavily in killed and wounded, not half coming back. The little Italian kid I previously mentioned was too frightened to leave our trenches.

The six Americans of our squad, Larney, Rockwell, Pavelka, Smith, Weeks and myself passed through safely, except Rockwell who was shot in the leg. We learned he was cared for by our field ambulance.

VII TO THE REAR FOR RECRUITING

_(Place Unknown), June 10, 1915._

Soon after we were located at the rear to await recruits the General commanding our Division reviewed us and distributed five military medals.

We have a new Captain in the place of the one who was killed; he is a Swede and is very military; he has us drilling a great deal, and works us pretty hard, considering that we have smelt powder in the true sense of the term.

We have just learned that Italy has entered the war; also, that an American merchant-man has been torpedoed. We would like to see the United States keep out of the war if it can.

On May 29th we returned to a location near the front, and lately many German prisoners have passed us. One day as many as eight hundred went by; they looked well. By a strange coincidence the same Bavarian troops who faced us in Champagne are against us here, and yesterday we recognized a man in their ranks who deserted from us in Champagne. I guess it is all over with him; it should be.

It seems that our effort of May 9th was more successful than that of the British. The German prisoners say they cannot stand our artillery fire. I don’t blame them, as the French 75 centimeter field piece has proved to be the wonder of the war.

We are all well; in fact I never felt better in my life.

I have just received the packages from New York and am thankful for them. Socks are very desirable as we are on our feet a great part of the time and I can rest easy now that I am well stocked with them. The soup cubes were fine: we make soup every night before turning in. One of the tooth brushes was broken in transit but the other comes in handy as the one I brought from home is about used up. I am keeping the combs, but do not use them, as during the hot weather our hair is cut very close with the machine. Some fellows have their heads shaved, but I think that is going too far. This idea of having the hair cut short is a good one as it is very warm here now.

We spent four days in the trenches to the left of the ones the Legion occupied prior to the attack of May 9th. Skipper Pavelka and I went all through the devastated German trenches. I could find scarcely anything as we were there nearly three weeks after the attack and countless French soldiers had searched before us. I found some envelopes and wrappers for parcel post packages with the German postage stamps attached, and I send these to you; it will be seen the letters bear Bavarian postage stamps, and are directed to Bavarian infantry soldiers.

The German trenches were built much better than ours. Some of the huts in which the men lived were twenty feet under ground. They used a great number of dirt sacks: there must be a shortage of strong material in Germany, as these sacks were made mostly from cheap, light calico which was hardly strong enough to hold the earth.

They had an extensive system of mines and we made the attack just in time as Pavelka and I investigated the saps with the aid of a candle. They were all loaded and wired ready to be set off. One of them had been exploded. The Germans lost their bearings in digging, because the hole was actually nearer their own lines than it was to ours. They used a tremendous charge and the explosion must have been terrific for the result reminded me of the crater of a volcano; it was easily thirty feet deep.

Our bombardment before the attack of May 9th had played havoc with the German trenches; a great number of the roofs on the huts had fallen during the cannonading burying alive all the occupants. Around these places the stench was horrible. All through these trenches was evidence of heavy losses on the part of the Germans; at intervals, arms and legs projected from the walls and floor of the trenches, and all in all it was a pretty gruesome journey.

As a result of May 9th our line is advanced over two miles, but the Germans hold a dangerous position on the side of a large hill and it will be hard work chasing them off.

We have been out to dig trenches a couple of times and believe me we sure do work. Imagine getting up and working on the ground about two hundred and fifty yards from the German line with them shooting all the time. Work! you bet the men work with a will and it does not take long to get a good trench dug. They have a poor system here. We walk about seven miles from this town where we are now to the first line, dig a trench and walk back. We leave at six p. m. and get back at five a. m.—the idea of walking seven miles to work.

There is not much left of the Legion of May 9th; the Italians have been liberated to return to their own army. Our company had fifty-five men out of a full company of two hundred and fifty, but we expect to be filled up again with the men from Valbonne and Lyon. I should judge one thousand have already been sent up here from those places.

Well, this war is a great game. The next person who mentions the glories of war should be jumped on with both feet. Picture the charge with the band playing and the men singing—what tommy-rot. In the first place the instruments never get near the actual fighting, and in the second place the men at that time don’t care a hang for a song.

We have some fun with the boxing gloves, a new set having been sent to us from Paris. It is surprising to know how many good boxers there are around here. The other day two Zouaves who weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds each turned up and were very clever. One had boxed for the amateur championship of Tunis. They would give many professional fighters a run for the money. Two French cavalrymen had a bout that resulted in a knockout.

Time surely does fly: here it is nearly eight months since the old Goddess of Liberty disappeared into the distance in New York bay. It does not seem possible.

The ball that hit Rockwell’s leg just missed the bone, so he is recovering rapidly and hopes to be back with us soon.

We are all in the best of health and getting plenty to eat. We are unanimous in wishing for the war to end soon. Those who clamor for war the most in the States are those who know nothing about it. War is an asinine waste and I take my hat off to President Wilson for his level headedness.[4]

Footnote 4:

The above was the last letter received; the communication on the following page was written on a military postal card.

_(Place Unknown) June 15, 1915._

Dear Dad:

All well. Received your letter of May 30, 1915. We were there all right. Will write later. Love to all.

RUSSELL.

* * * * *

The First Regiment was cited in the official Order of the Day, as follows:

“The First Foreign Regiment of the Second _régiment de Marche_, ordered May 9th under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Cot to make a bayonet charge on a strong German position, went into the attack, the officers leading in front of the men, with a superb gallantry, gaining, with only brief stops, several kilometres of ground, in spite of an extremely strong resistance of the enemy and a violent fire from his machine guns.”

_Le Figaro_ of Paris, May 18th, 1915, contains an article from which the following translation is an extract, under the heading, “Nos succés du 9 mai dans le secteur, Carency-Neuville.”

“The attack on La Targette, led by a division of the army corps from the neighborhood, mentioned in the army order, was conducted with a remarkable boldness and was a complete success.

“The artillery had, by its fire, demolished a large part of the barb-wire and other accessories of the defence. A certain number of mitrailleuses had escaped destruction, and the enemy continued to hold them.

“At the first assault our infantry reached the border of the woods, but it was stopped there by fire on the flank. The infantry resumed the attack immediately and took a part of the trenches at ten o’clock; which it held, and at a quarter past eleven took all of La Targette and three hundred and fifty prisoners, many pieces of seventy-seven and a large number of mitrailleuses.

“Holding La Targette, they were masters of the cross-roads of Arras-Béthune and Mont Saint-Eloi-Neuville.