A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume I, Part 90

Author: Lincoln, Allen B
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co.
Number of Pages: 930

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During the night the "lute" returned, and everyone felt easier. One never realizes how much regard he attaches to an officer until one is deprived of him in a tight place, if for no other reason than that he relieves the men of re- sponsibility by taking the whole burden on his own shoulders. At daybreak we entered Villers where we found one regiment already installed, while an- other, the 168th, had taken up positions in the forest of Villers-Cotterets to await the attack of the boche at daybreak. Already half in ruins the town was undergoing a severe bombardment when we entered. The streets were littered with debris to such a degree that passage was rendered exceedingly difficult, and some were, in fact, quite impassable where a building had toppled over and completely blocked the narrow passage ways. Civilians had withdrawn long ago, but a good many soldiers were busily occupied in making the rounds of the stores. Everyone seemed to catch the spirit of plunder, and 585 fell in with the "poilus" in the mad hunt for "eats." Wares there were of all kinds, but little food. Of wine a considerable quantity existed in the cellars, or rather had existed, for the Frenchmen had already appropriated to themselves the better part of it,. as the unsteady gait and frolicsome mood of the pillagers testified. It was a case of "first come, first served," everyone for himself. Deplorable as it may seem-this thieving, pillaging, or whatever you will-it develops into a sort of contagious fever, an irresistible temptation. All seruples are cast aside in the general rush, as each man tries to get hold of all he can. It is unfair, heathenish, selfish, wicked, yet one derives a certain satisfaction from it according as one gets more than his neighbor. None sought to justify his act on the grounds of necessity, nor did anyone even consider whether it was his right or not to lay claim to whatever he desired in a threatened town. There was no time to deliberate about the morality of it, for the next man would already be running away with the very same article which had caused the in-

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decision in the mind of the more scrupulous one. There was no question at all except one of speed. Indeed orders in the French army were very stringent in regard to pillaging, yet it was futile to try to enforce them in a situation like this. Besides, there was the very real possibility that the boche might get the plunder if we didn't, and this argument was too large to be overlooked.

The excitement and fun arising from this bit of diversion had for the mo- ment made us forget the real situation, and we had become quite heedless of the shells falling about, until suddenly a big one landed in the square, hurling the public fountain to the ground and scattering steel and debris in every di- rection. Down we went flat on our stomachs just as if we had all been electrified. Practice makes perfect in this game, and the most precise movements can be soon mastered to a remarkable degree of excellence.

THE BOCHE ATTACKED AT DAWN

Work began at once for us. The boche attacked at dawn,-three divisions strong of the Imperial guard against one French regiment, but more than su- perior numbers were needed to break through. Any advance he made was negligible. The forest of Villers-Cotterets together with the wonderful resist- ance put up by the 168th brought all his efforts to naught. Hitherto the boche had been tearing over open country at an alarming rate, but the forest pre- sented a stone wall to their sallies. Time and again he endeavored vainly to seek an entrance, charging cross the open meadow bordering the forest, only to be halted before he had covered two-thirds of the distance. Wave after wave came on, growing thinner and thinner as they approached the forest under the murderous fire of the 75s which mowed them down by hundreds. Out of each line of the attacking but a handful reached the forest, and they were im- mediately taken prisoners. None could turn back, for the boche was directing a good share of his fire in their rear. Thus Fritz found himself between two fires, and all he could do was to continue on his way until he fell. Whether the boche deliberately sent shells in the rear of his men to prevent any turning back or whether it was merely due to failure to get the correct range it was hard to say. But it did seem rather strange. The 75s were working inces- santly for forty-eight hours, shooting point blank at the approaching boche. All day and all night train after train of ammunition was brought up to feed these wonderful guns, many of which had become useless because of the terrific strain they had been under. But new ones kept ariving which replaced those disabled. The slaughter was terrible. Fritz was not left a moment's rest. Later on when we advanced we found corpses of the boche lying three deep on the edge of the forest. The roads were full of dead bodies of boches and French- men which had been lying there many days. It was quite impossible to pass without running over some of them, and this constituted the most sickening part of the whole experience of ambulance driving. The stench was horrible, and as the wheels passed over some boche's head it felt as if we were ploughing through a soft, jelly-like mire. Indeed it was a severe test of a man's stomach. The next day another regiment came to the aid of the 168th, but the strength of the boche was already crippled. And although in the course of the next two months he attempted severe assaults, they were but feeble and soon re- pulsed, for the Frenchmen were not to be caught napping.

During these days of fiercest fighting the Frenchmen displayed that wonder- ful courage and fearlessness which have always characterized the "poilu."

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Many were the instances of individual brave acts, one of the most striking being the case of a sergeant who found himself with a few men cut off from the main body in the village of Faverolles, and surrounded by boches. They were at the end of their resources, and surrender seemed the only way out of the difficulty. Instead, however, they held on with bull-dog tenacity; and later a runner brought to the colonel of his regiment the following words written on the back of an envelope: "Je n'ai plus de vivres, presque plus de muni- tions, mes hommes sent extenués, mais nous tiendrons -. " For two days they stuck it out until help finally reached them. These few men had defended the village against overwhelming numbers of the enemy and had thus prevented the boche from securing a stronghold which would have proved highly advan- tageous to him. This act of bravery formed the chief topic of conversation for many days, and the "poilus" loved to refer to it long after as typical of the French fighting spirit.

Our casualties were heavy also, and the whole section was running back and forth constantly from the line to Villers with loads of wounded. Though the roads were pretty heavily shelled in places, they were by no means as dan- gerous as they were in later sectors, because of the protection offered by the forest. Most of the shots were made at random, for the roads were quite hidden. Outside the limits of the forest, however, it was quite a different matter, though even here it was attacked from the air that constituted the chief source of danger. Boche planes would swoop down over the roads pumping bullets into passing vehicles and dropping torpedoes. At times driving an ambulance was no pleas- ant occupation, and this was one of them.

By the end of the second day the condition of affairs was much improved, though our position was still somewhat precarious. We were under orders to be ready to evacuate Villers on short notice, for it was still generally believed that the retention of the city was very doubtful. During the next ten days the situation changed little. Attacks were made daily, sometimes two or three within twenty-four hours, now by one side, now by the other, first losing ground, then regaining it. The lines see-sawed back and forth, varying as much as two kilometers at times. We held them, but that was all. Yet that was quite suffi- cient, since "La Division des Loups" had been given up as lost, as the Paris papers stated in the "communique" of June 1st. The shelling of Villers in- creased in violence until finally orders were issued for evacuation of the town. For three days the city had been burning,-the result of incendiary bombs, and casualties had mounted so high that it was deemed advisable to withdraw altogether, since no advantage was to be derived from a prolonged stay there. It was just prior to the issuing of these orders that 585 suffered its first casualty when a 210 landed in the courtyard of the château, killing three Frenchmen of the section and wounding two of our own number, one of whom lost both an arm and a leg. Three cars were blown to atoms in addition. Thus it was with no feeling of reluctance that we left the scene and withdrew to the village of Boursonne, about five kilometers from Villers. From this village as a base we worked for the remainder of the period of fifty-two days which we spent in this sector. On July 17th began the Allied offensive, and after four days of it, this time going forward instead of backward, we were relieved and sent back "en repos" to get rested up in preparation for the next attempt at the game.

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HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

IN THE AISNE SECTOR-THE FIRST AISNE-OISE OFFENSIVE

The "repos," at first so welcome after the strenuous period spent in the forest of Villers-Cotterets, began to grow irksome after a few days when we had become sufficiently rested, and the work of restoring the "flivvers" to health had been completed, and once again we began to long for action. It was the same story over and over. In war one is never satisfied. When at the front, tired and weary, "repos" comes as a wonderful gift from heaven, yet after a short period of idleness and unnerving quiet one finds himself eager for the noise of the guns and the excitement of battle. 'Tis a strange thing, and as it was soundly put by one of the men "You're either scared to death or bored to death, and one is as bad as the other." And so it was with no reluctance that we again set out for the front where at least there was no time for moping. Accordingly, it is during the month of August, 1918, that we again encounter Section 585, taking part in the first Aisne-Oise offensive.

When we first arrived in Couloisy, a village on the bank of the Aisne, to take up our duties in the new sector, comparative calm reigned. Very little fighting took place in the lines, and we began to think that we were going to have a soft time of it after the days spent in Villers forest. But as the days slipped by the sector seemed to take on more activity, and by the middle of the month business had picked up appreciably. The attack which had long been preparing began to come to a head. Troops began arriving in extraor- dinarily large numbers. Artillery trains became more numerous, and an im- mense supply of ammunition seemed to pour in as if by magic. We were there- fore led to believe that an attack was really coming off and were quite con- vinced of it when several regiments of dusky colonials arrived on the scene- the famous Senegalese. The appearance of these always signified an attack, for with long, slightly curved knives, much more resembling huge cleavers than bayonets, they became veritable demons as they dashed toward the boche lines uttering bloodcurdling yells and "seeing red." No wonder they put fear into the heart of the boche; for the truth is they did not have any scruples about honorable warfare any more than did the boche. They were simply to murder, kill and terrify the enemy, a fitting adversary for the boche, and one who could be appreciated by none better than by him. As soldiers they were nil; as de- fensive troops they were a failure, for they would turn and run under shellfire. But where ground was to be gained by attack these dark skinned warriors were always thrust into the foremost lines, for once under way no power on earth could stop them save a direct hit of a shell. We therefore considered it a safe bet that something big was about to take place. Furthermore this accounted for the comparative inactivity in the lines, all attention being given to prepara- tion. Day in and day out, night after night, the roads were filled with trains of artillery and caissons, guns of all calibers, "mitrailleuse" companies, am- munition trucks, "ravitaillement" squads, all pushing forward toward the lines, all presaging the destruction of the boche.

But the fighting in the lines was of no account, aerial activity more than compensated for it. The boche had plainly the lordship of the air in this sector, and night after night the country round about underwent a terrific bombard- ment. During those warm summer nights the full moon flooded the landscape with light, turning night into day, and to the aerial observers every road and pathway was revealed clearly. As soon as it became dark the boche paid his

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HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

regular visit for the purpose of torturing us. Fortunately we were quartered in a small wood, a circumstance which enabled us to escape much of the bomb- ing, yet we were not altogether untroubled. When the raid began we crawled into little holes which we had dug in the side of a hill and there waited until it should please the invaders to return home. These we found very welcome as protection against falling "éclats," but in case a bomb fell in the nearby neighborhood paper boxes would have served the purpose exactly as well. Un- happily for us, in the same wood were several batteries of 75s as well as the hanger of an observation balloon, the presence of which rendered our position somewhat more perilous, as Fritz gave much attention to attempts to locate them. He would fly low over the trees, and, swooping down, drop bombs into the wood. Then again, he would dive and pour a stream of bullets down through the trees, while we lay crouched in our little nests trembling and praying that our names were not written on any of the missiles. The sensation one experi- ences during an air raid is unique, to say the least. Under shell fire one can tell the general direction from which the shells are coming, but in an air raid one is absolutely helpless. And it is the very realization of one's utter im- potence that enhances the terror which the bombs put into one's heart. Noth- ing can be seen, but much is heard. As the motor whirrs above, it always seems as if the boche were directly overhead, and one becomes convinced that the next bomb is for him. Then comes the whining, swishing sound as it cuts through the air. Everyone holds his breath, and his heart stops beating for a few sec- onds until the crash comes,-a glare of red, a sharp crack, and a terrific ex- plosion which shakes the whole surrounding country. Then just about thirty- five lips murmur "Thank God, not this time." It was such nights that were substituted for the quiet days, and in spite of the light work we were soon beginning to be worn out.

A MOVE FOR BETTER SECURITY

The casualties mounted so high after awhile that we were ordered to move to Jaulzy, the next village up the river, where better security was offered. On the night we moved twenty-seven soldiers were killed in Jaulzy and fourteen in Conloisy, so we wished we had stayed in the woods after all. In our new location, however, we were assigned to some very comfortable quarters on a large farm, and we were blessed with the good fortune of having a swimming hole directly behind the house, so that all that was necessary to do was to fall out of the window and we could enjoy a swim in the River Aisne. As is to be expected we made the most of this opportunity, although it was rather un- healthy recreation at times, since boche planes were forever out scouting and photographing. At this point along the river three pontoons were under con- struction, as the regular bridges had been destroyed, and of course Fritz was trying his level best to tear these down, and with a certain degree of success, too. Three times one of the bridges reached the middle of the river only to be cut down by shellfire. Every time Fritz came over and followed along the course of the river we took this as a signal to withdraw, for in a few moments shells were sure to arrive as the boche artillery essayed to get the correct range. Sometimes shells landed in the water, in consequence of which the surface of the river would be covered with fish of all brands, quite unknown to us. As long as Fritz sent shells into the river we were at least in no danger of starva- tion, Quite the contrary, in fact, for fish constituted our chief diet for several

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days,-fish three times a day, and fish for lunch between meals, if anyone had the stomach for it. I doubt if any member of 585 has touched fish since.

By this time things had about come to a head. The attack, which from all appearances was to be a mighty one, seemed imminent. Hundreds of guns were lined along the roads pointing toward Fritz' abode, and ammunition was piled two meters high in the fields. Each battery of 75s was supplied with three thousand rounds, and the larger guns, too, were all in prime condition, including the terrible 270 and the mighty 320. Fritz was surely destined to get some hot steel. Excitement ran high, and we waited impatiently for some- thing to start. But as is always the case, the attack was postponed several times for more favorable conditions, and impatience increased accordingly. Further, the boche had a presentiment that something was afoot as was attested by the ever-increasing number of shells he sent over. The valleys were saturated with gas which clung persistently to the ground because of the low-lying coun- try. The roads were fiercely cut up by shells, for Fritz knew the lay of the land like a book, every corner and turn in it, and owing to the flatness of the landscape he could use the "saucisses" to great advantage. There was one stretch of road particularly dangerous that ran across an open field for a dis- tance of about three kilometres,-perfectly flat country with not even as much as a tree to hide the road,-and Fritz could see every movement along the whole route. To pass over this was equivalent to running the gauntlet. Every vehicle that passed was chased by shellfire from start to finish, and many a camion and "ravitaillement" wagon was "got," but "Henry" always seemed to have wings and to fly before the shells. Many queer cases there were, too, of the freaks played by them. On one occasion a shell exploded behind one of our cars, and the "éclats" passed under it, around it, and through it, but did no damage whatsoever to the car. Yet a horse and the driver of a team ahead were killed. Another car was just on the point of passing an ammunition camion when a shell hit the camion direct. A pile of burning rubbish was all that remained to tell the tale save this half paralyzed "ambulancier." The camion driver had "vanished into thin air."

During this period opportunity was offered to observe a bit the working of that marvellously intricate mechanism known as an army. How many ever stop to consider what a wonderful, monstrous creation an army is? Or does one ordinarily think of it as a tremendous, complex machine, excellently lubri- cated and perfectly constructed, with all its minor parts working in unison toward one great end, as an integration of many subordinate parts welded to- gether into one great unit, and that this is all achieved by the workings of a few master minds? When one reads in the newspaper of the movements of an army one gets a sort of abstract idea, a picture of a vast group of wooden soldiers to be picked up bodily and thrust from one position into another. One does not conceive of an army as a concrete body of live men, each with his own particular duty and his own individual soul and body, his own wants and de- sires. Nor does one think of the myriad of separate and subordinate move- ments that go on when an army advances or retreats. One seldom regards an army from this perspective. Yet what a wondrous piece of mechanism an army is, everything working out automatically, as it were. Our conception of the congested traffic of a large city is the nearest approach we can make to a picture of an army in motion. Day and night, ofttimes weeks and months are spent in preparation for an attack, when the roads are literally packed

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with vehicles of all kinds, when but a few inches separates one from another for miles and miles. During these days of preparation for the attack just such an event was taking place. Day after day, night after night, the highways were literally solid with moving masses of vehicles and men crawling along in an endless line. Add to this a pitchy darkness, not a spark of light, hostile planes overhead trying to wipe out the entire aggregation, and one can form some idea of an army on the march. When an army advances or retreats, that is, in good order, everything works out automatically, and in a miraculously short space of time. One day there is perhaps nothing at all at a certain spot. The next day thousands of camions, train upon trains of artillery, "ravitaillement" wagons and troop carts are crawling along in the same direction, or if at night, when only the vague outlines of a ghostly army are visible, shouts of men and officers yelling commands come out of the darkness, while the rattle of heavy teams and the clatter of horses' feet add to the apparent confusion and chaos. Yet in reality all is working smoothly. Through all this tangle the little "fliv- vers" had to worm their way with the wounded, dodging in and out of in- credibly small spaces, bumping and getting bumped, but invariably coming out on top, though sometimes a bit too eager "Henry" got caught between two huge camions, in which case he was subjected to a severe wrenching be- fore he could extricate himself.

After long days of waiting, during which occurred several false alarms, the attack proper began, following two or three "coups de main" by way of a prelude, to discover what our exact position was relative to the boche. On the afternoon of August 18th at three o'clock the attack was finally launched, a huge offensive extending along the front for a distance of a hundred kilom- etres. Right on the dot the bombardment commenced, and it seemed as if the end of the world were about to come as hundreds of guns let loose all at once, sending tons of steel into the boche lines. Also our air forces had been about tripled, and a few minutes after the barrage began a squadron of eighty bombers went over to deal out death and destruction behind the boche lines. All cars were on duty that night and the following day, going back and forth from the lines to the "triage," stopping only a moment at the section while the drivers grabbed a bite to eat and replenished "Henry's" supply of gas and oil. The noise was deafening, and as we drove along the road toward the lines it seemed as if all the cannon in the world were shooting simultaneously. The fields on either side were full of guns ranged in rows at intervals of five or six feet, all firing as rapidly as possible. The gunners were hard at work, dirty, hot and tired, yet highly enthusiastic, and they grinned at us as we stopped a moment to watch them. One picked up the shells, another took them from him and shot them into the gun, while a third opened and shut the breechlock, all working at top notch speed. Out of the muzzles of the guns came an almost continuous stream of flame and smoke and something else which we could not see, but which was reserved for Fritz. First came the 75s, then the 155s, then farther back the 220s and the 270s, with the huge 320s closing up the rear-all beleh- ing at once. The concussion was terrible. It seemed as if a gust of wind struck one at every shot, and many an old head was made to crack with aching. As we drove on we could see nothing but guns, guns everywhere, some working, others cooling. The attack and bombardment continued all night, and the ad- vance as well. "On s'avance toujours" was the customary answer to queries as to how things were going. Everyone was in the best of spirits, and the

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morals of the soldiers was never higher. Even the guns themselves seemed to sense the feeling of general optimism. 'Twas indeed a "grand and glorious feeling." Now we could understand why the boche had hitherto maintained a high degree of confidence. When things were going right a man felt as if he could do anything. All felt that it was a great game, but God help the boche !

THE BOCHE SEEMED TO CRUMPLE UP

The second day brought no diminution in either the intensity of the attack or in the success of the advance. The boche seemed to crumple up under the mighty push, and prisoners poured in by hundreds. They offered no resist- ance whatsoever in many cases, and numbers of them gave themselves up voluntarily. Fritz seemed completely demoralized and worn out, as if he real- ized the utter futility of it all. One boche officer remarked that the war would be over by October, basing his statement upon the fact that the men were dis- couraged and refused to fight any longer. We could well believe him, yet it is best never to trust these rascals or even to believe a word they utter, par- ticularly when they are prisoners, for then they are "sugar-coated."

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A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume I, Part 90

Author: Lincoln, Allen B Publication date: 1920 Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co. Number of Pages: 930

Author: Lincoln, Allen B
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co.
Number of Pages: 930