Battery E in France Part 1

Battery E in France.

by Frederic R. Kilner.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Since a battery comprises nearly two hundred men, and includes activities of diverse kinds at different places, it is obviously impossible for a brief narrative such as this, compiled by a single person, to furnish complete details on all of them. To suggest the life of the men in their various sorts of work, to trace as accurately as possible the accomplishments of the battery on the front in France, and to recount the outstanding incidents and events of its history, is as much as can be claimed for these chapters. Primarily intended for the members of the battery, these pages will, I hope, furnish an outline on which each one can reconstruct the days of his own experiences in France from the voluminous resources of his memory. To that end, dates and places are indicated fully, and pains have been taken to have these accurate and exact.

To Lloyd Holton, Stuart Lawrence, Waldo Magnusen, Harry E. Loomis, Jr., and Harland Beatty thanks are due for the photographs supplying the interesting ill.u.s.trations, which tell better than many words how the men of the battery lived. The meagreness of the ill.u.s.trations is due to the army order forbidding cameras being taken to the front. We regret that this order was in rare instances violated, but are glad to be able to publish the photographs which resulted from such violations.

This book itself is a lasting indication of the grat.i.tude of the men of the battery to the relatives and friends included in the Battery E chapter of the 149th F. A. War Relief, from whom came the funds for the publication of this volume. The acknowledgement of this generosity is made with the recollection of many previous kindnesses, so numerous, indeed, that an adequate appreciation of the services and sacrifices of those at home is impossible to express.

PREFACE

Battery E of the First Field Artillery of the Illinois National Guard was organized at Chicago, October 23, 1915, Captain Henry J. Reilly in command. On June 27, 1916, it was mustered into federal service for duty on the Mexican border, and mustered out October 28, 1916, after training at Leon Springs, Arkansas, and taking part in the famous "Austin Hike."

The battery met for drill at the Dexter Pavilion, Union Stock Yards, Chicago, on Monday nights.

After the United States declared war, April 6, 1917, the battery began recruiting to bring its strength up to war basis, and drilled Monday and Friday evenings. Sergeants Herman Leprohon and Thomas Atkinson, of the Regular Army, who directed the drill at this time, were commissioned first lieutenants in the regiment before it left Chicago. May 22 Paul E.

Landrus was appointed First Sergeant, John J. O'Meara, Supply Sergeant, and F. O. Johnson, Stable Sergeant.

Governor Lowden ordered the battery into service June 30, 1917, when drill became daily. July 9, the battery entrained for Fort Sheridan with its 30 horses, guns, caissons and supplies. First Lieutenant Irving Odell was in command, Captain Reilly having become colonel of the regiment, now the 149th U. S. Field Artillery. The regiment was mustered into federal service July 20, as part of the 67th F. A. Brigade and of the 42d Division, already named the Rainbow Division by Secretary of War Baker because of its national composition, comprising units of twenty-six states.

At Camp Geismar, as Colonel Reilly named the regiment's encampment alongside Fort Sheridan, there was daily drill with the American 3-inch pieces. On July 30 the regiment was reviewed by General Berry, who was inspecting units of the 42d Division. Some of the "border veterans" of the battery had gone to the first Reserve Officers' Training Camp, and about twenty-five former members of Battery E received commissions.

On September 3, 1917, the regiment left Chicago for Camp Mills, First Lieutenant Howard R. Stone in command, Captain Odell having been transferred to Second Battalion headquarters as captain-adjutant.

Sergeant John Cowan and Corporal Russel Royer had shortly before been commissioned second lieutenants, the former remaining in the battery and the latter going to Headquarters Company.

September 7, 1917, First Lieutenant Lawrence B. Robbins was transferred from Battery C to the command of Battery E, and shortly afterwards commissioned captain.

Having no horses or guns, the regiment received plenty of foot drill, relieved by short periods of setting-up exercises, trigger-squeeze pistol practice and instruction in first aid to the wounded. The foot drill became hikes through Garden City and vicinity, then regimental reviews, and finally exhibited the accomplishment of the men in reviews by Secretary of War Baker and Major-General Mann.

Evenings, Wednesday and Sat.u.r.day afternoons, and Sundays gave generous opportunity for sampling the varied diversions of New York City, and the hospitality of the residents of the neighboring towns of Long Island.

And these pleasures were well sampled! The batteries of the 149th entertained the corresponding organizations of the 150th and 151st regiments on the evening of September 28, when Colonel Reilly's description of warfare in France furnished interesting instruction, and abundant refreshments caused general content and satisfaction. The following week, the 151st returned the compliment, with equal enjoyment.

October 2, an additional detail of men left for Newport News, where they joined the men who had left Fort Sheridan with the horses, at the remount station. About this time Lieutenant Packard, from the Plattsburg camp, was attached to Battery E.

Constant instruction in making packs and rolls hinted at leaving. Then the making of allotments and the taking out of war risk insurance, the packing of duffle bags, and the boxing of all Q. M. supplies made us ready for departure by the middle of the month, and waiting for orders to France.

CHAPTER I

ON BOARD THE "PRESIDENT LINCOLN"

The mounting flames of a bonfire cast a flickering red light down the battery street. Burning the whole night through, to consume boxes, refuse and abandoned material of various kinds, these ruddy illuminations in the quarters of the 149th Field Artillery, at Camp Mills, Long Island, were omens of unusual, and unpublished, happenings.

The men of the regiment felt the nearness of these events, though they had been given no warning of them, and slept, fully clothed, with their packs still rolled as they had been at inspection the afternoon before.

Covered only by their overcoats, the boys tossed uneasily on their canvas cots in the chilliness of the night. When one, awakened by the cold, ventured to approach the bonfire to warm himself, the voice of a sentry warned him away: "No one is allowed around the fire. Orders are for no unusual appearance or noise." And the chilly one would return to his tent, if not to slumber, muttering, "Tonight's the night, all right!"

At 3:30 a. m., a whispered summons roused each man. A few, who had scoffed at the omens the previous evening, rolled their packs by feeble candles. All the cots were folded and piled in the shed at the end of the street that had housed the battery kitchen. The cooks performed their last rites there, by serving coffee and sandwiches. The last sc.r.a.ps of paper and other litter in the battery street were "policed up," and added to the now dying bonfire. Then the batteries were formed, and the regiment, at 5 o'clock, October 18, 1917, marched silently out of Camp Mills.

The hike to the railroad station was a short one. There the regiment quickly boarded a waiting train, which pulled out at 6, to make the brief journey to the ferry docks in Brooklyn. Quickly and quietly, the men boarded the ferry. They had been instructed to make no noise, attract no attention, and so s.h.i.+eld the troop movement as much as possible from public (and enemy) notice. But a ferry-boat load of khaki-clad youths, when such ferry-boat loads were not so numerous as they later became, could not fail to draw the eyes of the throngs on their way to business. The journey around the Battery and up the Hudson River was punctuated by cheers and shouts of good-bye from witnesses of our departure. At the docks of the Hamburg-American Line, where the "Vaterland" and other ocean liners had lain since the autumn of 1914, the boys filed onto the wharf and immediately over the side of the "President Lincoln."

As he was a.s.signed his place in the hold, each man was given two things: a printed sheet of instructions, which was to guide his actions on board, and a life-preserver, which, hanging like two sofa pillows, one on his breast, the other on his back, was to impede all his movements on board. For these must be worn night and day, whether one was eating or drinking, working or playing; and must be within reach when one slept.

That last was easy, for they usually served as pillows.

That was one of the precautions against danger from a submarine's torpedo. Another was the fire-drill, which occurred at unexpected times, either at night, in the midst of sleep, or during the day. Since there were between 5,500 and 6,000 troops on board, exclusive of the crew of 400, it was important that they should know the quickest and easiest way to escape from the s.h.i.+p in case of accident. The "President Lincoln,"

before the war the largest freight vessel afloat, was built for the carrying trade and not at all for pa.s.sengers. In each hatch were four, and in some five, decks below, and it was a feat to empty all these by the narrow iron stairways in the short s.p.a.ce of two minutes. At the entrance to each hatch were stacked rafts, ready to be unlashed and heaved over the side, and every man had a place.

Below, each man had a bunk, a canvas stretcher hung on a frame, three tiers high, that ran the length of the hatch, narrow aisles separating each double row. Electric lights made these good places to lounge and read. But when night fell, every light in the s.h.i.+p was extinguished, save only the dim blue lights at the stairways. Not even a lighted cigarette was allowed on deck or at a porthole, lest it betray the fleet to some hostile submarine, lurking near under cover of darkness. And all day long and the night through, lookouts--an officer and one enlisted man--watched the waves from the mast heads and from sentry boxes along the side, fore and aft, for the ripple of a periscope.

Excessive precaution was not without good cause. This fleet was such as to spur enemy submarines to extraordinary activity for several reasons: The vessels were former Hamburg-American Line s.h.i.+ps, making their first voyage under American colors; it was a double blow that these German boats should not only be employed in the service of the United States, but even be used to carry troops and supplies to defeat Germany herself.

Again, these seven vessels transported an entire division at once, the first to be sent across the Atlantic as a unit, a division which had received much attention because of its composition, an amalgamation of National Guard organizations from twenty-six states.

Battery E mounted guard on the "President Lincoln" on the evening of the day the regiment embarked, October 18, and so a good many of the boys were on deck to see the lights of the Statue of Liberty fade behind as the fleet stood out to sea during the dark. About midnight the gongs sounded an alarm, and everyone was awakened for the first fire-drill.

But the blue lights at the stairways that were the sole illumination, refused to work, and since no one could tell in the pitch blackness where to turn or whom to follow, the men were sent back to their bunks.

The next day Battery E went on "K. P." Since more than 2.500 men were served in the forward mess hall in approximately two hours, the force of "kitchen police" required was large. The cooking was done by the regular s.h.i.+p's cooks in their kitchen with huge caldrons and immense kettles.

Only the serving was done by the troops. It was a particularly hard job that day, for the roughness of the open sea had begun to unsteady the boys, and the sight of food, let alone serving it for two hours, was enough to incapacitate them as kitchen hands.

After they had gained their sea-legs, however, mess time was the important hour of the day, and the chief occupation of everybody was waiting for the next meal. The occasional fire-drills were brief.

Calisthenics were necessarily light and not long in duration, on account of the lack of s.p.a.ce on deck. Reading matter was greatly in demand, and much time was spent on deck merely in contemplation of the sad sea waves, the flying fish, and now and then a school of porpoise. On the fifth day out, target practice by the s.h.i.+p's gun crews furnished great excitement, and gave us greater sense of security when we had seen how accurate marksmen the gun-pointers were.

As a rule, the meals on s.h.i.+p-board were worth antic.i.p.ating. Sunday dinners included chicken, for the last times that delicacy appeared on our menu, unless one includes the Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys of the first winter in France. Eggs, boiled for breakfast, also appeared on the menu for the last time, as did fresh fruit, such as apples, oranges and bananas. Sweet potatoes were more plentiful than the Irish variety, until one began to long for plain "spuds." Stew and beans became more frequent as the voyage neared its close. But the men who ate in that forward mess hall will never forget the meal with which Battery E, again on "K. P.," celebrated our arrival in port at St. Nazaire on the afternoon of October 31, 1917.

On the morning of the previous day we found that, instead of the cruiser and destroyer which had escorted us across the Atlantic, there were on all sides of us little, parti-colored craft that tore through the water and careered all about us, French coast patrol boats. They were camouflaged in that peculiar style, after the fas.h.i.+on of a cubist painting, which was to become so common to our eyes later on. Far on the horizon that morning we saw, too, a large fleet of merchant vessels returning to the United States, and the terrific rolls that struck the s.h.i.+p convinced us we were in the Bay of Biscay, nearing port.

"Land! Land!" was the cry next morning. Sure enough, there it was! We thought some ex-New Yorker had memories of the island prison in the East River when he said: "There's Belle Isle!" But so it was: Belle-Ile-en-mer, a short distance from the harbor of St. Nazaire. We reached the port at about 3 o'clock that afternoon, and were fast to the dock an hour or two later.

Evening mess, which was usually begun at 3:30 or 4 o'clock, so that it might be over by dark, was delayed till 5 that day, while everybody hung over the rails to get their first sight of France. When they did descend, however, Battery E was waiting to serve a meal worthy of the day. Roast beef, Irish potatoes, gravy, bread and b.u.t.ter, tea, tapioca pudding and fruit cake. Nor was the quant.i.ty stinted. "We're celebrating tonight!" said Battery E, behind the serving tables, "Eat your fill, boys!" And an extra helping went into the mess kits. When the long line had all pa.s.sed by, the kitchen had sent its last shred of meat, its last drop of pudding to the mess hall. The allowance of cake for the meal had been far exceeded, but the good-natured chief petty officer in charge of the mess stores sent again and again for more.

Five more days were spent on board the boat. The first two pa.s.sed slowly enough. Much time was spent in efforts to buy chocolate and apples, hoisted aboard by campaign hats lowered on long strings from portholes, from the boats sculled alongside by fantastically clad fishermen, girls, small boys and old women. Or one might watch the German prisoners, marked by a huge "P. G." stamped on the back of their uniforms, pus.h.i.+ng about the puny French freight cars on the docks. Or one might catch a detail to unload freight, or stand guard on the dock.

Sat.u.r.day afternoon, November 3, the regiment marched up through the city and along the Boulevard de l'Ocean, St. Nazaire's Riverside Drive. Then we remarked what we later became used to seeing, that the women seemed almost all to wear black, and practically every man was in a uniform.

The following afternoon, leave was given to visit the town. Hotels, restaurants and pastry shops did a rus.h.i.+ng business, as did also the old women who kept the stands in the market square, selling postcards, souvenirs and all manner of trinkets. But the time spent ash.o.r.e was not long, for we were called back to unload the s.h.i.+p that night, and marched out next day, our packs upon our backs, to a camp a short distance from the city.

At that camp we felt first that economical parsimony which the Old World must practice, in contrast to the extravagant abundance of our own land.

The scanty wood allowance made the cooks suddenly mindful of the last stray splinters. Wash water was available only at certain specified times, and a squad of men must be gathered for a bath, in order that the water from the showers should not be wasted. No wonder, thought we, that the Frenchman drinks his eternal "vin rouge," if water is so scarce.

But our stay at St. Nazaire was not long. There were a few days of diverse details, such as s.h.i.+fting boxes and equipment on the docks, leveling the drill grounds, and excavating for the big reservoir that was later to furnish the water supply for the camp. Sat.u.r.day night the Second Battalion marched out of camp shortly after midnight, and boarded a train for the short ride northward to the town of Guer, in the department of Morbihan. That we were not full-fledged soldiers was evidenced by the fact that we made the trip in third-cla.s.s pa.s.senger coaches and not in the box-cars which were ever afterwards to be our mode of transportation in France. But the stops were as frequent as they were in our later train rides, and it was not until the middle of the afternoon, Sunday, November 11, that we arrived at Guer.