USA > Wisconsin > Racine County > Racine county in the world war > Part 35
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Few of the boys believed what they were told and thought it was a dodge on the part of the officers to get the men more interested in their training. This was our first experi- ence with billets. We were distributed around town in the barns of the residents and had fairly comfortable quarters. Some men rented rooms the officers had overlooked.
It was here that we received our gas masks and went through a gas chamber and had gas drill and worked a little more on rifle prac- tice.
On Sunday morning it was announced that all who wanted to go to church would be ex- cused from drills. The religious fervor that developed was universal. Men who didn't know what church looked like nor how it was spelled became suddenly anxious to attend one. It was the first day of rest since arriving at Jef- ferson Barracks seven weeks before. The lit- tle village was dark at night, all lights being under the ban in this area, to keep from at- tracting German aerial observers.
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Photos Loaned by H. J. Sanders
INCIDENTS IN THE ADVENTURES OF BATTERY C MEN HERE AND IN FRANCE
The top panel shows what camp life was like at Douglas. The view was photographed after a rain and first discomforts of soldiering were entering the warriors' lives. In the center are a lot of Racine boys who have just dropped off a French troop train for coffee. At the bottom is pictured the interior of a Red Cross hut where "chow" could be acquired by the perpetually hungry doughboy.
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On the tenth day of training we were marched to another train of box cars and after a three-day ride landed in a casual camp at Nivieville. This was rather close to the front and we heard for the first time the roar of the heavy guns at the front and at night the flashes from the artillery could be seen. We were there two nights, sleeping one night in a field and the other in town. The camp was the depot for replacement troops for the divi- sion, and we were all checked over and assigned for replacement service in various units to be called. The airmen were above us and no lights were allowed at night, as a protective measure.
Here we saw the first men we had seen from the front. They came marching back, dog- tired, covered with mud and dirt, but happy and many carried souvenirs of various kinds. They told stories of the hell going on out toward the German lines, and we got a pretty good idea of what we were in for when they got ready to send us forward.
At every stopping place in France back of the zone of the advance, we saw lots of German prisoners working on the roads or in railroad yards. They seemed to be fairly contented and certainly got good treatment. Whenever we had a chance we talked with them and most of the boys slipped the "P. G." in green-grey some cigarettes when they found an oppor- tunity.
Long after the war when these prisoners were returned home, I understand that they were agreeably surprised by receiving pay from the Americans equal to that given a Yankee soldier. They had more money in their pockets than they ever saw before and many an M. P. guarding them cursed against the "non-fraternizing" rule which prevented them from getting np a little crap game and reliev- ing Heinie of his surplus cash.
Where we now were we saw many types of soldiers-French, African, Hindu and others. Some wore quaint and gaudy costumes. Lots of Chinese coolies were working under direc- tion of British or French officers.
As our troop's forward movements grew more frequent, the expressions became more vivid on the part of the men.
"This is a hell of a place," a disgusted doughboy would shout the minute he landed at a new camp or center.
"I hope we get out of here," his buddie would reply sourly.
As the replacement men advanced they found each stopping place a little worse than the last, but they felt that they would be sat-
isfied if they could hurry and move on to the next. From barracks and tents in America to rooms in homes in France the quarters were changed into cowstables, barns and outhouses and then to out of doors entirely.
The rains were almost continuous and the men who neared the front left all hopes of baths behind.
The unpopular little cootie put in his ap- pearance at about that time and added a little more to the growing burden of troubles for the doughboys.
In our little shack a lieutenant entered. He was wriggling and shaking himself and finally began looking up one of his sleeves. I asked him to show me what cooties were like.
"How long have you been here ?" he demand- ed.
"Two or three days," I replied.
"Haw-haw," he roared. "You'll see all you want of them before you've been here another three."
I did.
The great American game among the sol- diers was craps. It was a natural result of conditions prevalent in the army. No allow- ance was made for transporting any games. In spite of numerous attempts to provide en- tertainment for the A. E. F., it is a fact that very few troops ever saw an entertainment before the armistice while in France. Cards were fairly easy to carry in a pack, but after a few nights spent in the open and in the rain, anything that water could destroy was de- stroyed. A pack of cards had a short life when spent in a pack. On the other hand dice were not harmed by water. They could be carried easily in any pocket and the game of craps needed nothing more than the two "bones" and willing hands to roll them. If a blanket was handy to serve as a table, so much the better, but it was not essential.
Whenever men on the march or in billets had a few moments to spare from duty, the onlook- er might have heard at any hour of day or night, the mystical commands, "Come seven," "Eighter from Decatur," "There's my little Joe," "Oh, you Big Dick," and pleading voices appealing to "My Lady Luck" and "My natural point" and "Phoebe."
Considering that the great majority of men were drawing but $15 or $20 in actual cash per month in France, the size of some of the craps games was astounding. In many com- panies one or two men would possess the whole sum of the payroll within a day or two after pay day-for it must be understood that craps is not a game that is played for the fun of it,
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Photos by John Hood
GOING AND COMING, THE RACINE UNITS WERE LIONIZED
When the boys left in 1917 they were escorted to their trains by seething crowds which jammed streets, viaducts and every place of vantage to spectators. The upper picture shows a departure. In the center an idea of the welcome is pictured. The returning unit was squeezed into the middle of the street and the crowds swarmed into the ranks. As can be seen in the picture the men shouted responses to greetings from the crowds that marched with them through town. At the bottom is shown the head of the parade of the 12tst Field Artillery on May 20, 1918. The crowds kept to the curb until the band passed by.
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like croquet or jack-straws. Usually a game would start off by the participants "shooting a quarter" or a franc, but by the time the money began to get a little concentrated it was not uncommon to hear the possessor of the dice offering to "shoot the 500 francs or any part of it," while willing hands sent showers of bills onto the blanket to match the wagers.
One lad in my squad cleaned up $500 in an hour, starting out with $1.50. On the trans- ports crossing the Atlantic, where several thousand men were packed in the holds with nothing to occupy their time, many enthusi- asts collected hundreds of dollars. As no one had much to start with, none of the losers were out more than $15 or $20 in most cases. The general attitude of soldiers toward money was that it was made to be spent. If they wanted something which could not be purchased with the amount in their pockets, the only way to get more was to gamble. If there was nothing they desired to purchase, they might as well gamble as do anything else. One of the reasons for the popularity of gambling was the fact that in France, at least, there was lit- tle at the stores to tempt anyone to make a purchase. Food was the main desire of most A. E. F. members, but it was only upon occa- sions that they could buy eggs, fruit and other delicacies which they craved.
Whenever a marching column of troops passed a town, they cleaned out the stock of edibles in the little stores in short order. Men would rush in the store, slam a five franc note on the counter and ask for whatever looked edible on the shelves. Sometimes this would be a can of preserves of some sort. At other times, the chagrined customer would find, upon opening a can, that he had obtained paint or shoe polish or washing powder. These errors were less frequent after the doughboys got so they could read French more efficiently.
The company to which I was assigned was resting, early in October in a patch of woods not far from Montfaucon, in the Meuse-Ar- gonne sector and I was sent forward with twenty other men to join them there. We moved up in trucks as far as Esnes and then were marched ten miles over a muddy, crowd- ed road which had been built through a shell torn section which had been No-Man's land for three years, The barbed wire entanglements were still in place excepting for gaps opened by the infantry in their advance and by high explosive shells. The shell holes, varying in size from one which would barely hold a bushel basket, to one which could conceal an auto truck, were half filled with water. The road
we were on was the only one in sight, but there must have been others as this was used for north bound traffic only. Artillery, ammuni- tion trucks, supply wagons and tanks were passing slowly along it, concealed from enemy observation by the mist and rain. Usually movements were made at night. Aeroplanes were passing overhead, but at such a height as to be barely visible. We infantrymen had no rights on the road and had to turn out on the ditch whenever a vehicle needed room.
A mile north of Montfaucon we passed long, six inch guns which were firing at long inter- vals. At a distance of two hundred yards, the blast of the discharge seemed likely to break our eardrums. All the men we saw were muddy and plainly unfamiliar with a bath tub, but I noticed that most of them were shaved.
l reported to the first sergeant of my new outfit at supper time and sat down in the mud to a meal of corned beef, water-soaked bread and luke-warm coffee. There was plenty of those dainties, but not much else. The men had pitched their pup-tents in the underbrush with no attempt at regularity, the main thing be- ing to get under cover of some branches which would serve as camouflage. Inside the tents most everyone dug a trench about eighteen inches deep and six feet long in which to sleep, as the sides of this gave protection against possible shell fire or splinters from aerial bombs. That night I was under fire for the first time, as six large shells hit near the edge of our woods. My first idea was to run some- where, but as everyone else seemed to remain where they were I decided I was as safe there as anywhere. Some of the weary men did not even wake up. No one was injured by these explosions, but one shell blew a baggage wagon all to pieces. I could hear the shell coming for a second or two before it struck; it made a sort of whistling noise, not very shrill, how- ever.
Later I learned that each sort of shell has a different sound, and this sound varies accord- ing to the point from which it is heard. For instance, as a shell approaches, it makes one kind of noise and when it passes over the tune changes immediately for its departure from the vicinity. Shrapnel bursting in air gives off a dull, vibrating "boom." Shells bursting on impact make an ear-splitting "whang" or "wow," according to size, but if the explosion takes place after the shell en- tered the ground a few inches the main crash of the explosion is preceded by a sort of "g-r-r," as if the sound were struggling through the ground for an instant before it
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TIHS PICTURE WAS TAKEN ON THE SHIP RETURNING-WERE THEY GLAD? OBSERVE
There were scores of Racine men among the returning soldiers who arrived in America in May, 1919. The boys were eager to get home and took the discomforts of travel good naturedly ; there was plenty to eat and the "makings" of some wonderful "crap games" on the transport.
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burst forth. Shells from our own guns, pass- ing overhead, seem to make a sort of sighing noise, like wind in a pine woods. Rifle bullets hiss or buzz almost like some sort of insect when they pass close by. One kind of shell, the Austrian .88, explodes before you can hear it coming, because its rate of speed is more rapid than that of sound. These are called "whizz-bang's," the name being an imitation of the noise they make if they go over you and explode to the rear.
We stayed in this reserve position one more day. I was pretty scared most of the time, but the veteran soldiers didn't seem to mind the danger. They said they were "fed up" on war, however; many had been under fire almost continuously for months. They couldn't see why the new divisions shouldn't be brought up to relieve the old outfits, while they went back into billets somewhere to get a bath and taste a little "vin rouge" and an omelet. Most all of them had cooties, and many were af- flicted with dysentery as well as a form of itch. All were confident of their ability to lick the Germans at any time or place. The army had shown the Allies something about methods of warfare, and by keeping on the offensive all the time had gradually reduced the opposing German divisions to mere skele- tons of their former selves.
At six o'clock (or eighteen o'clock, as it was termed officially) one evening we packed up our duds and prepared to move forward. We marched for eight hours and the memory of the hike is a sort of a nightmare to me. Our own artillery was active and as we passed along the muddy trail through the fields near Romagne the blasts from the 155 and 75 mm. pieces kept me in a state of extreme nervous- ness. I thought they were shells exploding, and soon some enemy shells did land near us. One man was hit by a fragment, which I had heard whizzing through the air toward our group. Two soldiers bound up his wound, which was in the leg, and he was ordered to turn back to a dressing station. He did so, with a brief "So long, fellows," to the men he had served with for months and was now to leave, perhaps permanently.
In this front zone no lights were allowed- not even a match could be struck or a cigarette lighted. Up ahead we saw some beautiful fireworks. I learned that these were flares sent up between the opposing lines to disclose prowling parties on raids or patrol. The light from them was very bright and as the balls of fire were attached to tiny parachutes, they floated about in the air for half a minute. On
a company front, one of these flares would be sent up at irregular intervals five or six times an hour.
Along the road I saw the dead bodies of ten Germans, and one American, the latter on a stretcher.
When we reached the front lines, I found that there was no trench system established, although our platoon was to be located in what had been an old German battery position, and there was some protection in front of us. Most of the men on this line had dug deep "fox holes" for protection, and the idea was to con- nect these up into a continuous trench four or more feet deep. However, as we always ex- pected to advance every day or two, these trenches were seldom completed by Americans. I had already seen the elaborate, deep German and French trenches south of Montfaucon and was somewhat surprised to learn that we didn't have at least that much shelter.
The company we relieved disappeared in the dark after we had exchanged a few whispers, and the lieutenant in charge of us had ob- tained what information he could about the conditions out in front and the whereabouts of outfits on either flank of us. I laid down in a fox hole and went to sleep at about 3 a. m., but at 5 I was awakened by a terrific cannon- ading from our own artillery. There was a continuous roar of firing, and up ahead we could hear the shells exploding and occasionally see clouds of dirt arise. It was still quite dark however. A corporal came along and said we were going to go over the top at 6:30 o'clock and to eat some of the corned beef sandwiches we had brought at once. I did so, although I was feeling somewhat nervous and my mouth was as dry as sandpaper. I won't say just how scared I was, but I imagine I felt about the same as a prisoner walking out to be hung. Machine guns were opening up, straight ahead of my shelter, and I could hear the bul- lets passing near in bursts occasionally. Evi- dently the Germans were nervous, too.
As the time approached to go over, the lieu- tenant and our sergeant began comparing watches very frequently and talking in low tones. I took a drink from my canteen every minute or two and wished I could get a broken leg before time to start. However, everyone else seemed cool enough so I decided to go through with it no matter what happened. It was just as safe to go ahead as any other way, I figured, and I surely couldn't stay still when my outfit advanced.
Suddenly the sergeant said quietly, "Fix bayonets and get all set." We did so and a
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THE YANKS OWNED THE TRANSPORTS ON THE JOURNEY HOME
When troops went eastward they were kept under a very strict discipline, but when it came to returning they were given wide range and plenty of leeway. This picture shows them all over the ship-even on the skipper's sacred bridge.
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minute later he whispered, "Come on," and we stepped up from our ditch and went forward in bunches of six or eight, each squad in single file. I don't know what it looked like at first as I kept my head down so my helmet would catch any stray bullets. I was fourth in the squad column.
Suddenly our artillery stopped firing and the silence was oppressive for half a minute. We went forward at a trot looking for Germans. We probably were 150 vards ahead of the jumping off place when our artillery opened up again, the shells being visible as they ex- ploded quite a ways ahead of us. The barage was creeping forward to protect us. I re- member hearing a "wh-z-z" and the sergeant yelled, "Down!" and we all dove just as a shell exploded twenty yards away. Another fol- lowed nearby, and another. I saw the man ahead of me start to arise and then fall again limply. He muttered something. I saw his face was all bloody, and as he lay on his side his left hand was badly mangled. Even as I watched him, he turned on his face and after a convulsive movement became still. I knew that he was dead. Somehow, the shock to me was not as great as l had anticipated. I had prepared myself to expect to see death, and as long as I was still alive I did not get much excited. Another shell hit forty yards to our left. There was a sharp, buzzing sound, and my head jerked back. There was a noise as though a hammer had struck an iron pipe. I gasped in fear, and then realized that a shell fragment had hit my helmet without injuring me.
"Helmet, you're my friend," I said aloud.
"All right," yelled the sergeant just then, "Let's go."
We all got up and ran forward. I saw a German a few rods ahead of me, getting up. He started to run. Four of us fired at him and
he dropped. "I got him," 1 remarked, and then 1 became aware that the man next behind me was saying the same thing. We reloaded as we kept on.
I saw other Yanks at a distance on either side. Suddenly one of the groups to my right just melted away and at the same time I heard a loud rattling noise at our right front. It was a German machine gun. Our sergeant dashed for it, all of our squad following. We reached it before it could be turned on us, but a German fired his pistol at the sergeant and killed him when we were within six feet of the hedge behind which the enemy were. Four of us leaped the hedge. There were three Germans. One fell to the ground when big Pete leaped upon him and struck him a terrific blow with the butt of his rifle. I saw one struggling to get his pistol working and I shot from the hip with my rifle. Luckily the bullet struck him between the eyes and he rolled over. The third one gave a yell and threw up his hands, but if he wanted to surrender he got no chance for an American bayonet went into his abdomen. He gave a sickening moan, half sigh and half cough, and keeled over.
The man who stuck him called to me "Keep coming, buddy," and I ran forward in his foot- steps. I knew that we were supposed to get to an old road up ahead and assemble there at 7:10 to reform our line. I was feeling better. I saw that one could be in battle without get- ting killed and I was gaining confidence as I went along, seeking shelter behind stumps and clumps of grass as I advanced. The firing from the concealed German lines was continuous and shells were dropping on both sides of us, and in front and rear. The Germans had no trenches along here, only strong points for in- fantry and lots of machine gun nests.
As I was looking for a place to halt a mo- ment to regain my breath, I heard a few bul-
The roster of Co. I, 7th Regt. Wisconsin State Guard, shown on the opposite page, follows :
Capt. Paul M. Matson, Ist. Lt. W. F. MacGregor, 2nd Lt. R. P. Peterson, Q. M. Sgts. J. F. Sugden, and C. B. Washburn.
Ist Sgt. J. E. Wilson and Sgts. P. F. Peterson, T. J. Pryce, A. W. Johnson, W. J. Kennedy, J. E. Craig, Ed. Rasmussen, T. L. Hermanson and A. W. Clutter.
Corporals L. J. Breylinger, Evan Catterall, S. E. Craig. L. A. Filiatreau, Wm. Meyers, Nels Nielsen, D. C. Wash- hurn, and A. E. Wilkins.
Musicians R. E. Schaefer. I. J. Fuller, A. J. Pluhar, John Walther and Geo. P. Lee.
Cooks Jos. Pluhar. C. P. Zierten and W. K. Bass.
Articifers N. R. Krause, J. W. Zellen and J. H. Birkett. Privates Jess Acklam, Chas. O. Beach, Stephen Benish, L. J. Blessinger, David Bolton. Walter P. Borman, C. J. Brady, Russell Bronson, Geo. F. Butler, B. W. Chadwick, F. J. Charles, H. P. Christensen, Edwin R. Dermody.
Wm. J. Easson, C. S. Edwards, Ezra L. Evans, John R. Evans, Otto Falkenberg, Peter Fenger, L. M. Fowler, John M. Frey, Ronald Gales, Rudolph Greer, M. J. Grif- fith, A. C. Hanson, Fredrick Hauberg, Wm. H. Hetzel, P. C. Holm, John Host, Al. Hutchinson, F. E. Jacobsen, E. F. Johnson, J. R. Jones, Jr., O. E. Kammien. M. P. Koke, Wm. H. Lang, C. E. Lange, Clyde H. Layton. Howard L. Layton, Orrin P. Layton, Oscar Layton, G. H. Leahy, H. J. Leonard, John Lincoln, H. Longstaff. N. F. Longstaff. W. P. Lorum, E. MacKendrick, S. J. Manner- ing, J. H. Martin, H. W. Matterer, R. H. McCaughey, D. C. Metcalf, F. H. Miller, Peter Miluszusky, Donald J. Morey. A. C. Munck, P. J. Myers, G. E. H. Nelson, P. N. Nelson, A. Nickelsen, T. F. Nielsen, John B. Nobert, Ole Olson, M. A. Overson, L. A. Pease, W. H. Peters, Holger Petersen, Leland B. Pfost, A. J. Pinard, Matthew Poul- son, A. E. Price, R. W. Rasmussen, J. E. Rocque, Carl Ruger. J. H. Rulle, L. A. Schenss, Peter Scholzen, Silas Schwartz, J. E. Simpson, Edw. W. Tigges, I. O. Verket, H. C. Voss, J. A. Wellensgard, T. H. Welshman, A. Wil- son, E. A. Wurz.
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COMPANY I, 7th REGT., WISCONSIN STATE GUARD, AT CAMP DOUGLAS, 1918
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lets pass near me. I ducked my head and started to dive for a shell hole. As I did so I felt a blow on my right hip and fell to the ground. At the same time there was a crash as though I had been hit on the head with a club. I sank quietly into sleep.
When I opened my eyes I realized that I had been wounded and in desperate haste I squirmed around to see what had happened to me. I could not move my right leg, but it was not shot off. It was bleeding a little about eight inches below my waist. My cheek was bloody but evidently the bullet had passed through my helmet and only torn the flesh along my jaw.
I got out my first aid packet and bandaged the hole in my hip as best I could and let the other wound alone. I crept painfully a few feet and found a shell hole in which I could curl up. Soon a shell exploded near me which smelled strange and I realized instantly that it was mustard gas. I put on my gas mask and for an hour wore it, much to my discom- fort. At about noon it started to rain, and feeling safe from observation I crawled back to our old front line. The trip took me nearly an hour. There I was found by two stretcher bearers, who carried me down the road a bit to an old dugout, where there was a surgeon and a squad of medical corps men. The doctor gave me a shot of anti-tetanus serum and re- dressed my wounds. Four men then carried me to a little village a mile distant where they placed me in an ambulance with three other litter cases. We were given a wild and rough ride for six miles, and at last reached the field hospital where I was placed on an operating table and had the bullet extracted from my leg. When I woke up I was in a cot and an orderly was bringing me some soup. It tasted pretty
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