USA > New York > The first hundred years : records and reminiscences of a century of Company I, Seventh Regiment, N.G.N.Y., 1838-1938 > Part 32
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THE FIRST HUNDRED YEARS OF COMPANY I
One day I received an order to report to the Division Commander as I had been recommended for a commission and he wanted to look over all candidates before approving the recommendation. To tell the truth, I was very much alarmed. I knew General O'Ryan by reputation as a man who was extremely strict in all the niceties of military courtesy and who would not fail to write "disapproved" across my paper if I made a slip. I spent all the time until the appointed hour rehearsing the part which I knew would be expected of me.
At exactly the proper minute I knocked on the door of his big tent and was told to come in. "Sir, First Sergeant Floyd, Company I, 107th Infantry, reports to the Commanding General." The General returned the salute and then walked · about the tent, looked over some papers and apparently paid no further attention to me. But I could catch the quick glance out of the corner of his eye every few seconds and stood at the most rigid attention. I knew. I was being tested for that. Suddenly, he turned, called me to his desk and asked a few questions. Very much of the soldier in his manner, but kindly nevertheless. Then he closed the conversation, saying, "All right, Sergeant, I will approve the request," and I saluted, executed an about face and marched out happy. From that minute, I had an immense amount of respect for my General. I don't know why, but he had that manner which forces respect and a faith in his leadership.
It was several weeks before my order came through, but finally a telegram . arrived from the War Department and I pinned on the gold bars of , a Second Lieutenant. It seemed very queer walking about the streets of Spartanburg in newly purchased finery, while enlisted men saluted and addressed me as "Sir." It took some little time to become accustomed to the new dignity and realize who the salutes were intended for. And for a long time, Captain Egan con- tinued to address me as "Sergeant" following it up with a profuse apology.
I was assigned to Company F of the same Regiment, as fine a body of men as were ever brought together. The welcome this company gave to its new Lieu- tenant was so cordial and the men themselves so friendly and anxious to help an officer who was not yet sure of himself, that I felt entirely at home imme- diately.
CAMP WADSWORTH Notes by Billy Leonard
With the farewells of our leave-taking from home and friends still fresh in our minds and hearts, we have settled down, here at Camp Wadsworth, in the South Carolina hills, to the serious business or preparation for the part we are to play in making the world "safe for Democracy." Less than a week in camp, real training has begun, and we have had a taste of what is ahead of us. The prospect is interesting, to say the least. We have charged up the rough hills back of our tented home and mingled with the spurred undergrowth that abounds in this section. We have dug ditches, engaged in football scrimmages and tried jumping through our hands and "kipping up" exercises recommended for ac- quiring that measure of agility which will become increasingly necessary as our training progresses. It is all part and parcel of the course of intensive train-
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Lieutenant Percy Hall Captain Wade H. Hayes Lieutenant Frank P. Gould Camp Wadsworth, September 1917
ing which will fill our time here in camp. The schedule laid out is designed to make us physically fit for the task before us, and if the glimpse we have had of the work we are to do were not alone sufficient, the serious words with which Captain Hayes addressed us at the end of our first strenuous day of actual train- ing served to make us all realize that it is a man-size job we have tackled
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and we must be men-physically, morally, and spiritually fit-if we are to do it well.
"Kipping up," by the way, consists of lying flat upon your back, and, at a given signal, springing to an upright position without the assistance of your hands. The first time Corporal Schumacher tried it, he dug his nose into two inches of hard Carolina clay. The trenches we dug, incidentally, have been visited by nearly every officer of the Regiment, and have excited a great deal of interest. They will be used by other units of the Regiment, the Colonel evi- dently being convinced that the work of the Ninth Company could not pos- sibly be improved upon.
But the first week, full of work as it has been from reveille at 6 a.m. to re- treat at 5:45 p.m., has not been entirely devoid of entertainment and fun. In the first football scrimmage, Lieutenant Gould was pitted against Corporal "Goldie" Wight of Princeton fame, and though the Lieutenant stuck it out gamely until the whistle blew he travelled over a considerable section of Spar- tanburg County.
Our first Sunday in camp, the Ninth Company furnished the pianist and soloist for the song service at the Y.M.C.A., Privates Hamilton and Williams, respectively, and they will probably take part in other Y.M.C.A. programs.
Private McMillin, who assists Supply Sergeant Morris in explaining why there aren't any supplies, has some tall explaining to do to a girl up North. He wrote her a pathetic letter concerning the scarcity of "smokes" in camp, and hinting that a gift of cigarettes would be acceptable. He also informed her that he was sending his wristwatch, which has failed to keep time since "Mac" had a hand of kings full of aces beaten by fours on the trip down, to be repaired. Someone in the Supply Sergeant's tent extracted the watch and filled the box with cigarettes, and "Mac," failing to discover the deception, mailed it North !
The next time anyone asks Private Richmond to get a six-inch outpost, that usually placid and friendly individual is likely to explode. He chased all over camp the first day seeking one, at the direction of a playful non-com. At the
m
Company I street, Spartanburg
The cook shack at Camp Wadsworth
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Machine Gun Company they told him to ask the Supply Company's headquar- ters, and there they sent him somewhere else. Retreat found him still search- ing. Bugler Downs had an equally fruitless hunt for a tent-stretcher. He was offered a sky-hook, but solemnly declared that wouldn't do.
Parting gifts to Company I included a box of fifty Pall Mall cigarettes for every man in the Company from the mother of Private "Tommy" Byrnes, and chewing gum from his aunt, and a Victrola and records from Mrs. Lyle Ray, wife of Bugler Ray. Needless to say, they were greatly appreciated. We have music with every meal.
"Jerry" Stanton Camp Wadsworth, 1917-1918
NINTH COMPANY NOTES-February 1918
We're back to school days. We have schools in the bayonet and schools in gas defense; automatic rifle schools and schools in signalling; bombing schools and map-making schools and liaison schools-that's French for communica- tion; camouflage schools and cooking schools, which are alike in some respects. Everyone is attending at least one school, and with some of us it's just one school after another.
Next will come the permanent rearrangement of the Company along the lines of the new organization plan: the division of the platoons into riflemen, auto riflemen, bombers and rifle grenadiers. This will have taken place by the time
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these notes are published. Naturally the new work has quickened interest all along the line. We are all hoping that it foreshadows an early departure from camp.
Four Company I men received appointment to the Divisional Training School for Officers. They are Sergeants Clayberger, Gilson, Morris and Holt. The selections met with general approval, though they removed from the line four most efficient non-coms. Corporal Garey has been assigned to the Bayonet School, Corporals Smith and Kin to gas defense, and Corporal Cutler to camou- flage, and Private Ritchie has been detailed to special duty at Divisional Head- quarters. Corporal Sinsabaugh has been transferred to the 1st New Hampshire Infantry, and will soon "go over," it is understood, as an interpreter. He speaks French fluently. Mechanic De Vol qualified as an expert on the training of carrier pigeons, and was to have been transferred to that branch of service, but the examining officer discovered that he knew even more about aerial pho- tography and so that will probably be his future work, though when these notes were written he was still a member of the Company.
Lieutenant Hansen Booth, formerly a Corporal in the Ninth Company, is now attached to one of the pioneer infantry regiments in camp here, and is a frequent visitor to Company I Street.
We felt like cheëring one evening recently when Lieutenant Korschen ap- peared at "retreat" wearing the braid on his overcoat sleeve that proclaimed his promotion to a first lieutenantcy. In the opinion of Company I men he is deserving of any promotion that may come to him.
Returning on a furlough, Sergeant Clayton lost his purse containing about $50, a railroad ticket, a photograph of a girl, and a copy of the Morse code. He asked us to mention it in these notes so he wouldn't have to pay for a lost ad. The finder will please return same to First Sergeant Floyd, who has prom- ised to hold out for a reward.
Private Curley, home for ten days, managed to find time to marry.
-W. A. LEONARD
CAPTAIN RAPHAEL A. EGAN
The tall, handsome officer who marched Company I of the 1st Regiment N.Y.N.G., into the Ninth Company Street at Spartanburg on October 1, 1917, and took command of the new Company I, 107th Infantry, was no stranger to the 7th Regiment.
Raphael A. Egan enlisted in Company D, 7th N.Y. Infantry, December 13, 1909. On January 6, 1912, he was commissioned Second Lieutenant, 1st N.Y. Infantry and assigned to Company I of that organization, at Newburgh, N.Y., his native city. He was promoted First Lieutenant, October 13, 1914, and elected Captain May 5, 1915. When the 1st and the 7th were amalgamated Captain Egan brought over with him First Lieutenant Russell M. Vernon and Second Lieutenant John A. Korschen.
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After making a pronounced success of fusing the "dudes" and the "apple- knockers"-a job requiring real skill, tact and all the qualities of: leadership- Captain Egan took the Company overseas in May 1918. He remained with it
Captain Raphael A. Egan Commanding Company I, October 1, 1917, to August 15, 1918
during its period of training with the Second British Army on the Somme and during its first service at the front in the East Poperinghe Line in Belgium.
At Steen Akker Captain Egan assumed command of the 3rd Battalion in August 1918, just before the 107th went into the Dickebusch sector of the Ypres salient.
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On September 29 when the 3rd Battalion attacked the German stronghold, Guillemont Farm, Captain Egan was wounded while advancing with the first wave.
After returning from hospital he was promoted to Major and assigned to his old command. He was cited in orders, 27th Division.
Returning to the National Guard after being discharged from the service of the U.S., Major Egan became Colonel of the 156th Regiment of Field Artillery and in 1923 was brevetted Brigadier General, N.Y.N.G.
IX OVERSEAS
OFF FOR FRANCE
T HE last few days of April 1918 saw us packing everything useful and sending home the accumulation of knickknacks which seven months of life in one camp had brought. We worked in feverish haste, for orders had come that would start us for France. Every man was inspected to see that he was fully equipped from campaign hat down to an extra pair of shoelaces.
On the appointed day, we marched out of Wadsworth for the last time and entrained for a port unknown. Speculation was rife as to where we were going. Most of the men hoped we would embark from New York, and at every station, maps were consulted in the hope that we had gone by the last place where we could branch off for some other port. However, we turned east and journeyed towards the coast. Some still hoped that it was only a feint to put spies off the track, but no such luck materialized; and after a day and a night in coaches, we pulled into Camp Stuart on the shore of Hampton Roads, near Newport News.
Camp Stuart, Newport News, Va., May 1918
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THE FIRST HUNDRED . YEARS OF COMPANY I
It was a big camp, though nowhere nearly as large as Wadsworth, and was laid out like a city in a series of squares or blocks, separated by streets and avenues. Whole sections were built up with row on row of two-story wooden barracks, all alike. Two big rooms, one upstairs and one down, each with rows of iron cots along the sides. Each company had two of these barracks and a mess shack. After the long period of tent life at Wadsworth, the men felt it was luxury indeed to get under a roof once more and sleep in an iron cot.
The officers lived in even more luxurious quarters. Each had his own room with space enough to hold an iron cot, trunk and camp chair and still leave room to get dressed in, while downstairs was a genuine shower bath with hot water.
Again the men were inspected and every article of clothing and equipment checked to make sure that each man had everything required and no more. One kind of equipment would be turned in and another, slightly different, is- sued in its place. Then, each man had to be examined by the camp surgeons and last, but by no means least, an interminable number of records had to be compiled, including a passenger list in twelve copies with the men arranged on it in exactly the same order they would be in on boarding ship.
As soon as one platoon was inspected, it was dismissed until needed again and the next one taken up. This gave the men plenty of time to themselves and as they were not allowed to leave camp, baseball and other games flour- ished, while the beach along Hampton Roads always had its groups watching
----
In Company I street, Camp Stuart, May 1918
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the shipping and trying to picture the interior of a troop ship from such dis- tant views as could be had of those camouflaged monsters.
Although our whereabouts was a profound secret, we had not been at Stuart twenty-four hours when a great crowd of friends and relatives descended upon us. Mothers, fathers, sweethearts and others fairly filled the space in front of Regimental Headquarters, and every train brought more, mostly from New York. They considerably interfered with the work of preparation, but no one had the heart to object.
One day, while I was in my room, an orderly presented himself at the door and said, "Sir, the Colonel desires to see the Lieutenant at his convenience." Colonel Fiske was a fine old soldier, but a strict disciplinarian and a man to be avoided if you had done anything not according to Hoyle. I reviewed my past life for several days back, but could not think of anything particularly reprehensible. I hurried over to headquarters and was greeted in a very kindly manner and told that I was to go over to Camp Hill at once with two other officers, Lieutenants Burtis and Brundage, and take command of a detachment of replacements which was to go to France in the same convoy. Our orders stated that we would be returned to the 107th as soon as we had been relieved of our companies at the debarkation port overseas.
It was not a particularly welcome assignment, but promised to be a very valuable experience for a new officer. We went to the Camp Office, borrowed an automobile, packed everything in a hurry and early that afternoon, reported to the Major in command at Camp Hill, a few miles north of Newport News. This Major turned out to be a man under whom I had served at Plattsburg, at one of the Business Men's Camps, a very pleasant surprise.
Burtis, Brundage and I were each immediately put in command of com- panies; mine a little one of 82 men, and then the compiling of records began all over again. Our men were from the far South, all Americans by long descent, and a fine and willing lot of men; but their language was very much Southern and mine very much New England.
Few of them had ever before been away from their little country districts in Georgia and Alabama and when I talked to them, I could see a suppressed smile cross their faces every few minutes at some strange pronunciation, and I could appreciate their feelings if it sounded as queer to them as some of their words did to me.
All worked with a will and in a very few days the preparations were com- plete and at last the orders came for us to embark. Besides our three com- panies, there was another of casuals commanded by a Regular Army Captain, who also had general command of the whole battalion.
On the day set for departure, we got up before dawn, made the few final preparations and, immediately after daybreak, marched out of camp on our last hike in America for some time to come. A few early risers waved us goodbye as we passed through Newport News, but it must have been a familiar sight to them.
At the docks we found a big steamer all camouflaged in a weird checker- board pattern and were soon checked on board. She was the U.S.S. De Kalbe,
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now an auxiliary cruiser of the U.S. Navy, but recently the German commerce raider Eitel Frederick. Sailors on deck told the men where to go, down hatch- ways, aft, starboard, port, and various other places. If they had given the Greek names of the designated sections, the men from the mountains and country districts would have understood them quite as well. The Southern drawl seemed to be just as unintelligible to the sailors, who finally gave up in despair and walked away. Being officer of the day, I was sent ahead to get the men placed, and it was no easy job.
Following us came some labor and stevedore companies, consisting of about five hundred Negroes. Whites from the far South and Negroes all to- gether on the same ship, and yet there was very little real trouble. The men looked at me in a surprised questioning sort of way when the Negroes filed across the gangplank, but said very little. What they did say was very much to the point. I promptly posted a guard between the Negro and White quarters and the ship guard was always supplied by the White companies. Therefore, the race question never had a chance to arise, except in one case in which a Negro started a little trouble and found a great deal before I discovered what was going on.
Hardly had the last man crossed the gangplank when the ship cast off and proceeded to sea, May 8, 1918. We had expected to go in the same convoy with the Regiment, but orders had been changed. Three days out, we met the George Washington and America from New York, loaded down with troops and con- voyed them across.
-C. HAROLD FLOYD
A MESSY INCIDENT ABOARD SHIP
Obtaining one's food aboard a troop ship of rather ancient vintage is some- times a difficult performance even when the ocean is "as calm as a mill pond," but during a gale the difficulty increases directly as the height of the waves.
Such difficulty was at its maximum one morning aboard the troop ship U.S.S. Susquehanna, once a queen of the North German Lloyd, when the "bucks" were awakened before First Call by the slamming around of every- thing not nailed down and the agonized creaking of the rheumatic joints of the
On board the "Susquehanna," May 1918
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On the transport going over
old ship. A gale was blowing which made the ocean look like a section of the Rocky Mountains and we sailed in the trough of it for three days thereafter.
There were a lot of sick doughboys that morning. Many were laid out flat, as the ship, which seems to be about the beam of an ordinary C.R.R. of N.J. ferryboat, and just as slow, did the weird stunts especially saved for the occa- sion. I never believed an ocean liner could perform such antics and was ready to bet several times that the old tub wouldn't come up straight again, but I'm hanged if she didn't each time. There were some wild scenes closely resembling football scrimmages when she did a particularly bad bit of bucking and rolling in one act. The gang, not laid flat in their bunks, would all pile up in a tangled heap first on one side and then with a terrible rush on the other side.
After fighting my way through these riots and rushes to the mess room to get myself some grub, I arrived at the doorway and beheld a scene of utmost disorder and very much like one of Charlie Chaplin's shows.
There were few on the mess line this morning and as I moved along to the apple barrel, it suddenly left me for the other side of the ship with the speed of a bullet, leaving a wake composed of a struggling mass of men all apparently bent on throwing beans, oatmeal, coffee and bread in one another's faces and doing all kinds of fancy flips, turns and baseball slides, for the steel floor was as frictionless as a greased pig at a county fair.
The apple barrel by now was on its way back and brought up against the ship's side with a crash, spilling all the apples left after its former trip and scattering them to every corner of the mess room. I got no apples.
In disgust, I passed on to get some beans, oatmeal and coffee. As soon as they were deposited in my mess kit with the good old Army "plop," I sat down right where I was before I fell down and, as there happened to be a piece of rope
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handy, I used it to good advantage by quickly making myself fast to a nearby stanchion which I spied coming toward me.
Phew! It was the worst fight I ever got mixed up with. Everybody yelling bloody-murder and laughing at the same time "fit to kill" at other people, but finding themselves doing the same impossible stunts, presently.
Lots of the boys bumped against the ship's steel sides and cut their heads, bruised themselves and otherwise came up sharp. That wasn't so funny. It's safe to state, however, that there was more mess on the floor than there was eaten.
At first there were tables with folding legs set up which we had always used to put our mess kits on and stood up to, to consume the contents, but the tables this morning, after breaking loose from their moorings, folded their legs and proceeded to clean up the party in short order. One man was eating while kneel- ing on a table which had folded up flat on the deck, when suddenly the ship rolled briskly and the table started for the other side of the compartment. It brought up with a crash only to shoot back again as the man "calmly" ate on, amid the admiring cheers of the gang-"Ride 'em boy!" they yelled. He soon came a snappy cropper in one of his mad rushes when the corner of his table got hooked on a stanchion and he shot off in all the grease and coffee.
I ate what I could as soon as possible and got out into the air.
The longer we sail the ocean, the more I admire our old friend Columbus- he surely was a sticker! How the deuce he ever came across in that dinky little ship he had, is more than I can understand. It's no wonder his crew wanted to put him in irons.
-T. TYLER JOHNSON
COMPANY I OVERSEAS 1918-1919
The story of Company I, 107th U.S. Infantry, began on that memorable day when Company I of the 1st N. Y. Infantry with detachments from the 12th and 10th Regiments marched down one of the main avenues of Camp Wads- worth, S.C., and turned into a street marked "Company I, 7th N.Y. Infantry."
The welcoming cheers of the men of the old 7th and the hearty response of the newcomers promised much for the new organization at a time of bitter disap- pointment and much distress.
With a fine disregard for the most valuable things within military ken, namely, morale and esprit de corps, the "powers" decided to break up and consolidate the National Guard regiments rather than recruit them up to the new war strength. It was not so hard for the base organizations, but for those broken up and distributed it was a blow which only soldiers will understand.
The spokesman of the up-State contingent expressed their fine spirit when he said, "The numerals of the new regiment, 107, express just the feeling we have in regard to the change: it is a combination of the 1st and the 7th, with nothing in between."
There were, of course, a lot of good men from the 10th and 12th "in between" in this club sandwich, which turned out eventually to be the finest combination of American volunteers in the whole army. We admit it.
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The Company at this time was commanded by Captain Wade H. Hayes, who had been through the Mexican Border campaign with us and who was loved and respected by every man in the old outfit. Behind him were all the fine traditions and the wonderful spirit of the old Ninth Company. Unfor- tunately for us, his ability had already been recognized and it wasn't long before he was selected by the Colonel to organize and command the Headquar- ters Company, a new feature under the modern tables of organization. It was a hard blow to the Captain and a harder one for us, although it came to him in the nature of an advancement. We hated to have him go, but orders were orders.
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