Part 8

France, April 19, 1919. _From:_ The Adjutant General, American 3. 1. _To:_ Commanding Officer 807th, Pioneer Infantry. _Subject:_ Ribbons.

1. Herewith is a copy of the order issued at these Headquarters on the subject of the award of silver bands to be engraved and placed upon the Pike of Colors of Lance of the standards of the organizations which have served in the A. E. F.; even if we get here in France the prescribed silver bands, it would be impossible to have the engraving done in time to present them to the divisions entitled to them. For that reason each organization is given a ribbon which shows which battle it participated in. This ribbon will be retained until the proper silver band is presented by the War Department.

2. The Commander in Chief directs me to send the ribbons to you, and to ask you to present them with appropriate ceremonies to the units for which they are intended. He regrets that this cannot be done by him in person.

By Command of GENERAL PERSHING. J. A. JONES.

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France, April 19, 1919.

_From:_ Commander-in-Chief, American E. F. _To:_ Commanding Officer 807th, Pioneer Infantry _Subject:_ Battle Participation.

1. Following is a list of battle engagements of the 807th Pioneer Infantry Regiment, during the War with Germany, including organizations which are entitled to the silver bands awarded under paragraph 244, Army Regulations. The ribbons furnished herewith are in lieu of the bands which will be supplied by the Adjutant General of the Army later.

(1) Meuse-Argonne Offensive, France, October 25 to November 11, 1918. Organization entitled to silver band: 807th Regiment of Pioneer Infantry.

By Command of GENERAL PERSHING.

J. A. JONES, _Adjutant General_.

By Order of COLONEL CARY.

CHARLES W. ROOTH, _Captain, 807th Pioneer Infantry, Acting Adjutant_.

Somehow it seemed difficult for the above regiment and others, whom we questioned from time to time, to know just why they had been honored with their name. Many of them had the high hope at first, as one fine soldier expressed it, that they were to be trained into the highest type of combatant troops, who were to clear the way to victory. Their record is abundant proof that they did clear the way to victory, but it was hardly as combatant troops that they won their honors. Although sharing the general hardships of the front, subjected to its shot and shell, they had small chance for real fighting. When the Armistice came several of these regiments had reached the trenches, and with another week of war, their story would have been a very different one.

Most of these regiments as they reached France, were forwarded to the Haute-Marne Training Area where they were given short but strenuous instructions in French warfare. From there they were again sent forward, this time to the aid of the various fighting detachments.

A notable exception to this general disposition of these Pioneer Regiments was the 809th—a sturdy set of lads from the Middle and Northwest. They arrived in France in early October, and almost immediately were ordered to the front. Investigation showed that this regiment had been formed about the first of September, sailed the 21st of the same month, and that most of the men knew very little about handling a rifle. The order was revoked and the regiment kept in the rear, most of them being sent to Nantes, where they remained until the following summer. And yet this regiment had a larger percent of professional men and skilled artisans in their ranks than most of the others. Three of the nine who went to the University of London were from this organization. Howard Drew, the world-champion at a hundred yards, Dismukes, Lyons, Malacher and Charleston of baseball fame were a part of it. Lionel Artis, now Y. M. C. A. Secretary at Indianapolis was one of its fine Regimental Sergeant Majors. An officer admitted to the men that he had been requested to recommend some of them for commissions, but preferred to keep them to build up the regiment.

The experiences of these Pioneer regiments in France, related in their own unique expressions, would make a volume of much historical value, rich in humor and pathos. Each regiment held a certain pride for outstanding qualities peculiar to itself. Very often we found “silence golden” as we sat in the midst of heated discussions relative to the merits of these various “8s,” as they were often called, because the regiments ranged in number from 801 to 816. But we did learn by personal contact that each organization had its own distinctive fineness and fitness, and all who served these men in France will ever count it one of their greatest privileges as welfare workers.

The first of these regiments to reach France was the 808th, which landed at Brest September 7th, 1918. There were many men in this group of superior intellect and character—Maurice Clifford, a teacher of the High School, Washington, D. C., and son of Honorable and Mrs. William H. Clifford, was one of its regimental sergeant majors; Cornelius Dawson, graduate of Lincoln University, had left his theological course at Philadelphia to join the ranks. Warwick Johnson of Virginia Union University fame was one of them, along with hundreds of others of the same type. These men were called to help the 12th Engineers in the construction of a narrow gauge railway at the front. As they worked, shot and shell rained over them. In their dugouts they were tortured by rats and “cooties.” Small wonder that an officer who had observed it all should have remarked: “We cannot understand their make-up, for under hardest conditions they hold themselves together and are able to raise a song.” It seems after all that only black folk can interpret the “Souls of Black Folk.” We went to look for the “808” at Dombasle where they had their headquarters so long after the war ended. But they had entrained, and there was left only the dreary waste and desolation, that swept unbroken over many a mile, to tell us the terrible isolation they had suffered in France.

One of the men of the “813” said: “We endured all the hardships of the front but missed the thing we wanted most—some real whacks at the enemy.” This was no doubt true, for this regiment was really bombarded from one front to the other until it reached St. Remy a few miles from Metz. Then the order came to fight! It was two o’clock in the morning, and at four they were moving forward. For two days they were under constant fire. This regiment held itself with a justifiable pride. Regimental Sergeant Major W. W. Tyler, fine in physique, intellect and manners, was a fit leader and representative of the men under him. Whether in field maneuvers under Sergeant Major Williams of the 24th Infantry, or in the office with men like Jay Dickinson, one was conscious of the high intelligence of the soldiers of the “813th.” We went one Sunday to visit some of this particular regiment. At that time it had been distributed on the various battlefields to assemble the American dead in cemeteries, and we were visiting the companies at Belleau Wood and Fere-en-Tardenois, near Chateau Thierry. At these places the men gathered in the huts to hear a word from the Y secretaries. Each had received the hearty applause that only soldiers know how to give. But there was one young lad in the party, formerly a sergeant in the regiment, who had been released to the Y. M. C. A. for service. It was when he modestly moved forward to say his word that the men made the hut too small for their outburst. There were yells and cries for “Sergeant Burwell! Burwell!” until, putting his hand to his mouth, he yelled back, “Fellows, give me a chance!” He stood before them with a wonderful light on his face, and drove home plain truths about right living; he told them about those secret places of reward for the hard things they were then doing. The men listened to him and cheered, because they knew that he exemplified in his own life the message he gave them.

The day was closing at Fere-en-Tardenois and we went to sit on a log and eat supper out of a borrowed mess kit. It was then two of the fellows said they wanted to tell us something. This is what they told us. “We think you might be able to tell some of the Y men about our condition here, and they could help change it. We find the French villagers here have been told we are an aggregation of diseased men, sent to dig these graves and bury the dead as a punishment!” It had been a glorious day, full of the fun and joy to be found in the midst of our young manhood, and we had realized all the delightful thrills of being A. W. O. L. (absent without official leave). But now the cloud came as it so often did in France. We looked out upon the war shattered landscape about us, and wondered why the spirits of the thousands of French, who had allowed themselves to be mowed down in that very place rather than surrender the principles of right, did not rise up to curse this awful wrong. With tears in our souls, but with brave eyes, we talked to them. We did tell this case, but the soul that should have been strong to vindicate them, proved but a weakling, and the young Y man who made the attempt to help them, was not only thwarted, but crushed for his effort.

Several of the Pioneer regiments touched foreign soil at Liverpool. Some were held there for service as were some labor battalions. But most of them crossed England to Southampton and landed at La Havre. This was the route of the 802nd, who came largely from West Virginia, Ohio and Pennsylvania. Making long and exhausting hikes, this regiment also reached the First Army where it talked little and worked hard. Says one of the men: “Our regiment was divided about October 1st into three sections. The first battalion was given the task of helping the engineers build a standard gauge railway from Aubreville to a point north, half-way to Varennes—a distance of ten kilometers. The second battalion was to connect up with the first battalion at this point—thence northward five kilometers beyond Varennes. The third battalion was given the task of furnishing rock from the stone quarries for the repair of the highway. All this work was highly essential in order to keep the firing line supplied with ammunition, rations, etc. The conditions in the sector were at all times most trying. The men were subjected to bombardment from enemy long range guns and aerial attacks almost daily. But the railroad was completed in a short time, and supplies were speeding up to the front for the final drive.”

November 18th, seven days after the Armistice was signed, the entire 802nd Pioneer Regiment was highly commended in general orders by the Chief Engineer of the First American Army in which he declared their services indispensable to the final drive. We must look behind this record to the quiet, dignified, but wonderfully alert enlisted men who made it. The ranking Regimental Sergeant Major, J. Emmet Armistead, was not only an experienced army man of spotless record, cultured by hard study and Old World travel, but a high type of Christian soldier. Although still young, he carries the marks of Philippine fighting and is an expert swimmer, horseman, marksman and athlete. But one learned this only after many conversations and gentle probings. This spirit of modesty went down through the regiment. We think of Sergeant Toney of Ohio University, Sergeant Kenneth Pack of Virginia Union University, and many others who made us conscious of the fineness of the regiment.

No two Pioneer regiments were quite so famed as hard workers and hard fighters as the 801st and the 803rd. Both shared the toil and danger of other regiments, but both seemed to have been determined to fight for right treatment, although it meant continuous fighting. At Brest, we saw evidence of the labors of the 801st in the transformation of Pontanezen from a mudhole to the cleanest and most modern of camps. These men came from Indiana and Kentucky, and the regiment was formed at Camp Taylor, largely of the 157th and 159th Depot Brigades. The Y. M. C. A. gained two secretaries from it, Sergeant Majors Eggleson and Watkins, who gave fine service to their former comrades. Regimental Sergeant Major U. S. Donaldson of this organization was among the brightest and most popular of the soldier-students who went to the British Universities.

Of all the Pioneer regiments, we knew the 803rd best—those “terrible” Illinois lads, one thousand of whom came from Chicago. In fact they were _our own_ regiment, for they christened us godmother with water that flowed straight down from the far-famed Alps. It was for some of the men of this regiment that we first cooked sausages and pancakes in the Leave Area; for its band that we made our first ice cream there. It was there that group after group told us of their lonely life at St. Maurice, Vigneulies, and other points near Verdun. Afterward, we were sent to serve them, but, alas, it was too late, as they had entrained. However, we caught up with the whole regiment at Pontanezen, and there, instead of our serving them, they served us. True, we gave them ice cream, lemonade, cookies, “movies” and books. But whatever of beauty and comfort came to the Y hut known as “Soldiers’ Rest” at Camp Pontanezen, was largely due to the energy, time and money invested by the 803rd in its remodeling. From Company M, with its wonderful sergeants from the regular army, always alert to help us, we were supplied the finest “detail” for work about the hut to be found in all France. But the volunteer details were no less fine, and we can never forget Taylor and James who constituted themselves our protectors as well as hut carpenters.

We could fill a whole book with the names of men of this regiment who throng our memory. There was Gowdy, Griffin, Williams, Jetton, Sheridan, Harrison and Matthews all soldiers, but gentlemen first; there was Curtis Kennedy, whose young face shone as he talked of his wife, mother and baby back home; there was Sergeant Washington, who knew so well the value of a balanced menu, and gave us our best mess in France, then sailed away, leaving us to our leanest days. But memory clings closest to the one, who in addition to the loneliness and hardship of life at the front, had bitter gall sent him from home to drink. For a time it seemed too much to endure, and he was ready for the plunge of despair. Slowly but surely, we drew that man back from the precipice, and lingered near till he was on sure ground, and the strength of the real soldier had come once again into his veins. What joy to know that for him there is still the grim determination to walk the better way.

One afternoon, in our hut at the port, a whistle sounded and a sharp command followed, “All men of the 804th report to their barracks at once.” What did it matter that the most interesting pictures imaginable were being passed over the screen! The “804th,” with its plenty of brain and plenty of brawn—who had now and then sent an overbearing military police into deep repose—the “804th,” with the isolations and hardships of the front still haunting it, was going home that July day. Oh, the gladness of them for this hard-earned reward! It was so contagious that it filled not only their souls but those of their comrades of other organizations, waiting for the same message.

Some one said that the order went forth, “only handsome men for the 806th.” Certain it was that everywhere they went in France one heard their good looks mentioned. But it in no wise spoiled them for the immense amount of work they did. At the front, at Montrichard, at Orley, and last near Paris, where they helped to build the celebrated Pershing Stadium, they carried themselves with honor. Many of the men of this regiment, too, sought for training and commissions, but were told that they were too badly needed by their regiment to encourage any changes.

The “811th” and “814th” had their regiments split up from the beginning and used at many points—chiefly in the S. O. S. We believe that some companies of the “814th” saw service in England. These men were rushed across the ocean at the last moment, but they did great service in salvaging and reconstruction after the Armistice came. We recall an amusing incident in connection with one company of the “814th.” It had but recently reached our area, and was at mess in one of the huge mess halls, constructed towards the end of the war. We were bravely plunging through the deep mud so common to the camps in France, and wearing high boots, the novelty of which had long since been forgotten. We were startled by a sharp whistle, followed by the camp expression—“Oo-la-la!” that brought men and mess kits to the doors and windows. One exclaimed, “It’s a genuine brown!” while another in most sympathetic voice added, “And it’s got on boots too!” For a moment embarrassment swept over us, but we knew how genuine was the surprise of colored soldiers at first sight of their own women in France, so we laughed back and waved them a welcome to the Y hut. From the “811th,” Sergeant Ulysses Young, and from the “814th,” Sergeant Everett Brewington, were among those who went to King’s College in England.

We had been waiting among the ruins of Verdun a whole week, by order of the Regional Secretary of the Y. M. C. A.; he was trying to convince the colonel in charge of Camp Romagne that women would help to better the conditions in that camp. But the colonel was not easily convinced. He told us afterward, that it was not colored women, but just women that he felt should not be with the soldiers in the camps. “War was stern and men ought to be hard at such times.” He was not alone in this opinion, for not only did colonels feel that way, but many soldiers and welfare workers were of that opinion. However, we finally rode from Verdun to Romagne in a wonderfully uncertain Ford, through thirty-six kilometres of blinding dust that bit and stung for several days. But it was all well worth while, for it gave us the chance to share the life of the 815th and 816th Pioneers, with the labor battalions who were there in the camp, and that of some of the companies of the “813th” who came later.

We reached the camp on Mother’s Day, and as many of the men as could crowd the “hanger,” as the tent auditorium was called, were there. After a year among soldiers, we had become quite accustomed to whistles, calls, applause and shouts; otherwise the noise occasioned by a woman’s advent among the thousands of men, might have overwhelmed us, and made it impossible to reach the rostrum.

The work of these stalwart California lads of the “815th,” and of the “816th,” so many of whom came from the Central West, is told elsewhere in the chapter Reburying of the Dead. Their record, with that of the “813th,” and labor battalions who helped at the task, is the most sacred of all the Pioneer regiments. They were “our boys” at Romagne, and again at Brest! They were the very last of the Pioneers to reach France and the last to reach America again. It was a picture to linger in the memory, as with packs on back, bags in hand and heads erect, we saw these men march at the dawn of the day out of the camp, down the long dusty road, over the city streets to the waiting transports. They were not permitted to look to the right or left, but as they passed slowly by, a lifting of the eyes, a movement of the hand, or in some small way, the women who had served them recognized through tear-dimmed eyes a warm adieu.

Those Pioneer regiments, so quickly mobilized to meet an emergency, were just as quickly demobilized with the return of the men to America. But the strengthening and unifying processes through which they passed as a result of the hard work, hard sacrifices, and in many cases, hard treatment of the war, can never be demobilized. There will be little whining from these men who are even yet Pioneers. But certain of their power of achievement, keen and courageous for truth and justice, they will hold fast to their vision of the future, and with strong, sure hands, build toward that future.

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Ye Queens, who bear the birth-pangs of a world, To whom the nations in this hour of stress, For succor look, and for the truth to bless, Ye great, whose fondled darlings, combed and curled, Are in the shell-torn, shamble-trenches hurled, To stay the hellish Hun, who else would press, The cup of degradation and distress, To lips of men with freedom’s flag unfurled— Ye valiant mother-band who gladly gave, The first fruits of your riven wombs to save, The world from horrors darker than the grave, _Ye are the Brave_, who in your Country’s need Did sow the trenches with your precious seed— The greatest gift of war, and valor’s noblest deed.

CARRIE W. CLIFFORD.

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Over the Canteen in France ————

Press and pulpit, organizations and individuals were beseeching and demanding in 1918 that the Red Cross add some of our well-trained and experienced nurses to their “overseas” contingent, but no favorable response could be obtained. Meantime, the Paris Headquarters of the Young Men’s Christian Association cabled as follows: “Send six fine colored women at once!” This call came so suddenly that for a while attention was diverted from the Red Cross issue that had been so uppermost in all minds.

Six women! A small number to be sure, but the requirements for eligibility were not so easy to meet and one must not have a close relative in the army. Many questions were asked. “Was there a real need for women over there?” “Could they stand the test?” “Would they not be subjected to real danger?” “Were not gruesome stories being told relative to terrible outrages perpetrated on women who had gone?” To these questions and others there seemed to be but just one reply. It was that if hundreds of other women had answered the call to serve the armies of the Allies, surely among the thousands of colored troops already in France and other thousands who would soon follow there would be some place of service for six colored women. A few leaders were far-visioned enough to see the wisdom of colored women going overseas. Mr. Fred. R. Moore, Editor of the _New York Age_, worked untiringly to help secure the required number, while Dr. W. E. B. Du Bois, Maj. R. R. Moton, and Mr. Emmett Scott strongly endorsed the sending over of colored women.

Almost immediately Mrs. James L. Curtis and Mrs. William A. Hunton, were invited to go to France. Those were the days when sailing dates were kept secret and orders for departures given at the last moment. When the first call to sail came, Mrs. Hunton could not easily be released from the war work she had undertaken for the Young Women’s Christian Association. But the following week, Mrs. Curtis, keenly anxious for the adventure, was permitted to go alone. Meanwhile, Miss Kathryn Johnson had been called from Chicago, and three weeks later sailed with Mrs. Hunton.