Chapter II: Part 2

We were divided here to be placed in different battalions, etc., and I was glad to learn that we were lucky enough to be sent to a battalion which was then occupying the trenches. We left town together and proceeded on our way which led through the greatest vineyards I had yet seen. We paused in a barn for a short time and started off again. There were about ten of us; Smith and Larney were with me; Pavelka we left in Bouzy as he is sick. I do not know what is the matter with him, but it does not amount to much, whatever it is.

We finally arrived in what was once a town. I say once, because as a town it ceases to exist. It had contained, I should say, about two or three hundred houses. While in New York I had read of the towns that were destroyed in the war, but the realization exceeded my most elaborate ideas. There was not a building in the entire town which had not received its share of destruction. We walked through several streets looking for somebody to direct us but could find no one. The place seemed deserted; and what a scene of ruin. Here was the church with gaping holes in the roof and one side with four openings large enough to drive a team through. The other sides were battered and the steeple was blown off. It is impossible to convey any idea of the ruin which was everywhere seen. One row of four houses had the connecting walls completely destroyed. In the entire town there was not a house with its roof left, nor a pane of unbroken glass.

We finally located a sentinel who showed us headquarters, where we were assigned to our companies, etc. After lunch we were to proceed to our trench. While waiting for the repast an occasional shell whistled by and exploded a short distance beyond. Very pleasant, I assure you. We finished the meal and were ready. A short distance from the kitchen, to my great surprise, we entered the famous trenches. Here we were at last. I wish I could express my feelings when I realized where I was.

It was simply the connecting trench which allowed the men from the line trenches to proceed to the kitchen and get the meals. The Germans have a disagreeable habit of shelling these trenches at meal time and quite a few accidents have occurred in them. They are about five feet deep and very narrow. The earth is thrown up on both sides, so they are quite deep. They curve in a horrible fashion and it was not long before I was dizzy. Meanwhile an occasional shell went merrily by. The trenches are so narrow that it is difficult for two men to pass. We continued on and passed the entrance to the second line: after a while we stopped. Where do you suppose we were? We were at last actually in the first line of trenches.

We were taken to the lieutenant, who assigned us to our squads. The first thing we did was to place our rifles in holes in the trench facing the Germans. I looked over the top of the trench in the direction of the enemy but could not distinguish much, as it was beginning to get dark. They were there, however, there was no question as to that for an occasional bullet whistled by. An intermittent fire is kept up continually by both sides. Larney and I were put into the 15th squad and Smith in the 14th. We were assigned to our quarters.

The firing line faces the Germans in a zigzag way. There is a trench running parallel to and back of it. They are connected by trenches in which are placed the living quarters of the men. There are two caves or huts opposite each other in an alley. Of course they are underground. They are about three and a half to four feet high and about twelve feet deep. There are six men in ours. When lying down it is impossible to stretch one’s legs out, consequently you are pretty well cramped after sleeping.

I was tired after our long march, so prepared to turn in, but found that we were to be on guard during the night. We turned out presently and I was placed with another fellow in a trench about twenty yards in advance of the main one. We were in back of steel shields with our rifles loaded and on the watch for a German. The fellow I was with was an Italian, so there was little conversation between us. We were there two hours and it was very cold. We saw nothing alarming. Both sides exchanged shots occasionally. I was very glad to be relieved, as a cold wind was blowing. We went into the guard room and it was not long before I wished I was on post again. There was no fire in this cave and the ledge upon which we sat was about four inches wide. It was also cold in there. Finally we went out on patrol. We put the bayonets on our guns and laid down on the earth. I was in this position two and a half hours. Let me here state that I think I have enjoyed two and a half hours more at other times during my career. This sharp, cold wind continued, so after a while I was naturally chilled. There was no danger, however, as I estimated that the nearest bullet which passed us was at least twenty feet distant.

Nothing happened and at last we returned. I was very sleepy and in due time turned in. After sleeping about an hour and a half I was awakened as the captain wished to inspect the new men. After the inspection I had a good sleep: slept most of the day and all the night. It is rather uncomfortable in the cramped position but it is possible to keep warm when under the blanket.

The meals are good, but only lukewarm, as they have to be carried quite a distance. During the next day we left the trenches and returned to the town to repose. We are here now for eight days. It is very comfortable here. Another American was put in our squad; he is from Boston; has been in France five years and the Legion five months; in the trenches three months. He is a fine fellow.[3]

Footnote 3:

Kenneth Weeks of New Bedford, Mass. Killed June 16th.

At present, things are very quiet. I think we made quite a record; from a reserve training station, put in the first line trenches and the first night there put on patrol and two days after that sent with the Battalion on repose.

After this letter I will not be allowed to send any mail to any place for about a month.

Well, mother, I am nearly a full fledged soldier now. You would be surprised to know how glad I am to be where I am.

_Somewhere in France,
March 12, 1915._

This is a good picture of the actual sights where I am now. Whole towns are like that shown on the other side. All well.

RUSSELL.

_Verzenay,
April 9, 1915._

On March 26th we returned to the trenches, and the routine was the same as before, just the continual rifle and artillery fire and very close watching of the enemy. The trenches are dry now and fairly comfortable. We are all in tip-top shape and enjoying ourselves; the only thing we want is some action.

We are located in a place called Verzenay, which is about ten kilometres (six and a quarter miles) north of Bouzy. The first line trenches that we occupy are about five kilometres (three miles) north of the town. Verzenay is on the side of a high hill, the trenches being in the valley; a grand view of the town is had from the trenches.

I should judge the town has, normally, four to five thousand inhabitants. The Germans throw ten to fifteen shells into it daily, but they do little damage, and more than half of the civil population has remained here.

We were scheduled to leave town one night for the third line of defence and had our packs made up when in came a fellow who wanted to see the Americans. He was an American from the Second _Régiment étrangère_, and had been transferred at his own request, and as the authorities are following a plan of segregation by nations, he was sent to our squad. I was agreeably surprised to learn that he had been at Virginia Military Institute; he is Kniffin Y. Rockwell. His arrival brought our number up to five.

In due time we left and during the night reached our destination. They were the usual huts dug into the side of a slight terrace supporting the canal. They are about four feet high and six feet wide and long enough to accommodate a squad of fifteen men. They have been in use since the beginning of the war and fresh straw has been put into them at intervals. The old straw, however, has not been removed and when the men change quarters they leave behind them all discarded junk, so you can imagine the condition they are in. When I first arrived I tried to clean up, but the deeper I got into the straw the stronger the philosophy impressed itself on me that “what one doesn’t know won’t hurt one,” so I put back the straw and let it go at that.

There are a great number of rats and mice in the huts and the first night an energetic rat loosened a mass of earth above my head and it fell directly upon me. It gave me a great start as my first thoughts pictured a company of Germans on us. These rodents are a great nuisance on account of their large numbers and I have often wished there was a Pied Piper amongst us.

There is one man in the company who does not share my feelings. He is an Italian who is used to a strange diet. Every morning about nine o’clock he sits down and spreads out his victims of the night: they generally number five or six. He skins these and as he is a friend of the cook they are roasted for him. There is no question of his liking for them because we always have more than enough to eat. I have seen many strange things over here, but the cold-bloodedness of this fairly turns one’s stomach.

There is not any regular schedule pursued here, but they always manage to keep us busy. During the second day Pavelka joined us from the hospital, which made the number six. This fellow is very handy and volunteered to make us a base ball. For the centre of the ball he used the business end of a cartridge and on this wound worsted and thread alternately. For a cover he cut up a leather puttee and sewed it on the ball. The complete article was really very good and it rivalled Spalding’s Official League Ball. Old A. G. would have given considerable for it for exhibition purposes, but he will never get it. Home-run Scanlan, the heavy hitter, drove it into the canal and we lost it. He also broke up the game, much to the chagrin of the entire company who had gathered around to see us play. We had fun while it lasted, and we intend to make another one when we go back to the canal.

Aeroplanes are very numerous. There are so many that it became necessary to resume the aeroplane guard. Each section takes turns at this and it lasts from sunrise to sunset. Every time a German aircraft flies within range we fire at it. This occurs many times and considerable ammunition is used but no damage done. These machines warn us of their approach before they are located as the sound of the motor carries a great distance. Both armies shoot at the 'planes with cannon also.

It is quite interesting to follow the course of an aeroplane. Take a German one, for instance. We may be cleaning up when the faint whir of a motor is heard. Work ceases and all eyes try to locate the machine. It proves to be an approaching German 'plane. When the probable range is computed our artillery opens fire. The report of the piece is heard and we look in the vicinity of the aeroplane for the result. In a couple of seconds a puff of smoke is seen and shortly after the noise of the bursting shell reaches us. It is almost impossible to hit it. I have seen a great number fired at, but as yet, with no results.

Another thing to be remarked upon is the intrepidity of the aviators. They don’t seem to pay any attention to the bombardment (if we may call it such). One beautiful afternoon while I was in the first line, a French aeroplane made for the enemies’ lines. The Germans saw it coming and opened fire, using three pieces. The sky was cloudless, so I counted the puffs of smoke: they appeared all around the plane, but in spite of this the airman continued on his mission and actually got out of range behind the guns. All told there were sixty-eight shells thrown. For fifteen minutes after, it was possible to count the puffs. I have often wondered when the shells explode near an aeroplane and do not damage it, how it is that the concussion does not in some way injure the delicate parts of the machine. We have not seen an aerial combat, but all root for one.

On our first repose here in town we were treated to a bath: it was a great event. A soldier holds a hose with a sprinkler arrangement on the end and two others man the pump. First we are allowed a little water to get up a lather, then the master of ceremonies at the hose bellows a command and the boys at the pump bend to their work with a will, with the result that there is a free-for-all fight to get into the spray. It is rather a crude method, but as the water is hot we are very thankful for it. I had my second yesterday and we hope to bathe daily at the canal.

This canal reminds me greatly of the old Erie, save for the locks. Changing levels is accomplished by one single lock as against the single and double locks used on the Erie. Canal boat fleets are unknown in this country: the boats travel singly and are towed by horses. Considering the depth and width of the canal and the general appearance of the banks, one can almost imagine he is travelling through New York state on the old waterway. The type of boat used is practically the same as ours, save that over here they are somewhat larger and with a more pointed bow.

The other night Weeks took us out to dinner: the meal was served in the home of one of the native vineyard workers. We all filed into the kitchen of the house. This room was located on the ground floor and had a window opening onto the street. It served also as the pantry, dining room, and was also used for minor purposes. It was about ten by twelve feet. A common kitchen table occupied the centre of the room under a hanging oil lamp. There were eight chairs (the majority rickety) scattered around, and the deep window sill would accommodate three persons. Into the corner opposite the main door was fitted a triangular closet which accommodated odds and ends; the wine supply was kept here. Curtains decorated the window; the floor was bare. They used a good range.

Weeks was acquainted with the family as he had dined here throughout the winter when on repose. They also did his and other soldiers’ washing and the clothes were hung in this room on lines from the walls to dry; consequently one was uncomfortable until seated. After a while our host gave his order and the woman went to purchase the food. Meanwhile children of the family were constantly coming and going. After the sixth had made his appearance I grew confused and decided not to try to keep track of them. They certainly were numerous, and starting from four feet six they descended in regular intervals of six inches down to the young baby, making a natural stairway for Father Time.

The food came at last; it was a chicken and some incidentals. The next thing was to prepare the chicken for the pot. The good housewife searched high and low for a knife, and failing to locate one borrowed Smith’s famous weapon (he paid six sous for it in Lyon at a bazaar). Ah! I forgot. She singed the fowl first over the table around which we were seated. This was accomplished by means of burning newspapers, the ashes of which fell into the wine. We did not mind this, only the smell of burning hair was rather disagreeable. I had recovered from this, when, picture my chagrin, the good lady started to butcher the bird right under our noses and placidly strewed the table with the chicken’s guts. I think grape picking trains the hands to quick, vigorous action; anyhow, the way those giblets and other parts of the chicken’s anatomy were flying around caused us to dodge continually, and with great foresight I placed my hand over the glass to protect the wine.

The lady was not an expert butcher; when she could not locate a joint the members were torn apart by main strength. As for the flesh, it was actually ripped off in shreds and the whole business thrown into a pot. Smith’s heart was almost broken as the blade of his knife was bent all out of shape: it was ruined. The meal consisted of rice, soup, fried chicken and bread, with coffee at the end. It was very tasty, indeed. What struck me forcibly was the way the children ate. They came in just long enough to swallow a few mouthfuls. Through carelessness I think the young folks are not receiving the proper amount of nourishment. Anyway the children of France do not shape up as being sturdy. We all enjoyed the novel incident greatly.

We eventually got to the first line again and occupied the same hut as on our previous stay. There were seven of us in there, six Americans and the corporal. It was not wide enough to lie cross ways, so we slept at an angle. It reminded me of the story of the six men in one bed; when a man became tired lying on one side and gave the signal to turn, all turned at once and if any one failed to hear the signal it broke up the party. This was the case here; we were cramped to an uncomfortable degree. The first night we were disturbed by a great racket. It proved to be Smith forcing Larney back into his proper location. It might be well to remark here that Larney is a considerable sleeper. He talks almost nightly and would you believe me, back in Bouzy he actually sang one verse of “My Country, ’Tis of Thee.” It was in a far away, hollow voice, but he carried the tune fairly well. Some nights we grow alarmed over his welfare; he groans and mumbles so.

At the first line we are on guard every other night, and as the weather was cold it was not very enjoyable. One night I was on guard from one a. m. to three a. m. with Larney. We were in a trench running at right angles from the main one and about twenty feet from it. It is so arranged that the earth is on a level with our eyes. You would be surprised to know how hard it is to keep awake. Even as near the enemy as we are, an almost unconquerable desire to sleep overcomes us. It must be that the constant searching and the straining of the eyes into the darkness hypnotizes one, but be this as it may, it required a great effort to keep awake. We all complain of this.

On the night I speak about, I was struggling to keep awake when all of a sudden my heart almost stopped beating. I was thoroughly wide awake instantly: I could have sworn that there were two figures directly in front of me about one hundred and fifty feet away. One seemed to be standing and the other kneeling, and as we maintain a trench running parallel to the main one and about one hundred and fifty feet beyond, my mind pictured all kinds of things. I watched them intently and they seemed to be working at something, but in the uncertain light it was maddening. The large figure appeared to be motionless but the small one seemed to rise and bend like a man at a pump. This continued for what seemed ages. I am well aware that at night objects take strange forms, but I could not account for these. Our rifles are constantly loaded and cocked while on guard and I was tempted to take a shot at it, but I wanted to see them actually move before I fired. I looked over and saw Larney observing the same thing.

We talked it over and decided that it was part of the landscape; the next morning we went into the trench and came to the conclusion that it was two trees.

Another time while on guard in the second line position, I was looking out of a small port hole in the trench. I had just come to the conclusion that guard duty was a waste of time when I saw what looked to be a figure crawling slowly under the barbed wires in front of the trench.

It was a wretched night, raining and very dark. I could have sworn that this was really a man. I almost pictured him freeing himself from the barbs. I thought a better view would be gained from over the trench, so I noiselessly climbed up until my head was clear of the earth, but it was impossible to see when my eyes were above the surface of the earth, so I got back again.

The object was still in the same position. Would you believe I actually kept my eyes glued on the thing for nearly two hours. A number of lights were sent up by both sides, but their positions were such they did not help me. Finally, a German white light went up in a direct line with my eyes and the object. What do you think my creeping German was? Nothing but a frame to roll wire on. I certainly was disgusted when I made this discovery.

One cannot help imagining things. Everything keys the imagination up; the steady rifle fire, the occasional cannon, the bursting mines, the flare of the night lights and distant bombardments all tend to put one in a condition to see anything.

It is interesting to observe the difference of speed between sight and sound. For instance, a cannon far in our rear will discharge a shell; the flash is visible from the piece, the whir of the shell as it passes is heard, and the flash as it bursts is seen, then both reports sound almost simultaneous, the discharge of the gun and bursting of the shell. This, of course, only happens when one’s position is almost in the middle of the trajectory.

Another idea of mine which was shattered by actual experience was the action of a bursting shell. From war pictures I drew the inference that at the moment a shell bursts it was possible to see the fragments; not so. The report of the piece is heard, then the whistle of the shell, a puff of smoke is seen and finally a loud report. That’s all, but believe me there is a great deal of power in a shell.

In the second line the quarters were fair. Wide enough for us to stretch out and about five feet high. Each one accommodates a section. The condition of the straw was the same as described before. One night it began to rain and in about half an hour the rain soaked through the earth and dripped on us. We hung our shelter-halves up under the roof to catch the water. These covers performed their duty O. K., but the water leaked in all around them. The first night was not so bad, although the place was wet in spots. It rained during the second day and things became worse: the trenches were in an awful condition, the water being ankle deep in places and the mud beating Cedarhurst’s best to a fare-you-well.

That night, however, was the worst of all. The rain was dripping through pretty steadily and it had begun to get the best of the tent covers in spite of the fact that we emptied them regularly. We eventually turned in and as an almost steady stream was dropping on my head I put my overcoat over it and grappled with Morpheus. I had him flat on his back and was about to rise to the cries of the spectators when my subconscious mind differentiated between the voice of applause and the wail of dismay. Instantly I was awake and poked my head out to see what the fuss was about, but the steady stream forced my cranium under the coat again.

Out of the confusion I gleamed that a tent cover had fallen with the weight of the water and drenched a Greek, two fellows down from me. He was very active vocally: I’ll bet he cursed a few. We were all very uncomfortable. I was telling myself how good it was to be dry when I realized that I was not as dry as I might be. From my shoulders to my feet I was awash in three inches of water. It surely did feel fierce, but it was impossible to better the condition as everything was wet. It was only two a. m. and I prayed for day-light. We managed to dry out pretty well during the day.

I wish we had some of those new patented trench digging machines the World’s Advance tells about, because I have dug about one thousand miles of trenches, or nearly that many. We are constantly digging new and repairing old trenches, so now we have an elaborate system of underground streets.

I certainly do feel fine and enjoy the life, but there is no question about it, war is an asinine thing.

V
REMOVED TO THE ARRAS SECTEUR

_(Place Unknown),
May 6, 1915._

For many days we knew something was in the wind, but what or when it would happen was a puzzle to all. Some said we were going back to Lyon for a repose, while others maintained we were hound for the Dardanelles.

Finally we got orders to pack all our stuff and be ready to move during the night. About midnight, April 24th, a French regiment relieved us and we marched out of Verzenay. It was a very disagreeable night, and coupled with a chilly, penetrating fog and the rather forced march, we were more or less fatigued when we reached a small town at about five o’clock the next morning: our _escouade_ (squad), the 15th, was assigned to a sort of cow shed. The ground was as hard as a rock and as cold. We turned in, but tired as we were, it was impossible to get much sleep, although we tried to sleep during the day. At five in the afternoon we went up town to see what the place was like; it was a small place with about six stores and overcrowded with soldiers.

When we got back I started to read periodicals received from New York. Outside there was a small yard with a squad kitchen on one side and our quarters on the other. I’ll stop here a second to say a word about the men in our squad.

The corporal could be most anything but I think he is Arab-French; he is a quiet fellow and O. K. There are four Légionnaires with us; one of them has served fifteen years with the Legion and another about ten. These two are naturalized Frenchmen and fast friends. The old-timer has a huge beard and is a very quaint character. I enjoy watching him; he reminds me so much of those gnomes who used to interest me when I was small. The other fellow is short and very brown. The way they confide in each other is really ludicrous. When one has an imaginary illness he takes the other aside and they get their heads together and sympathize with each other; it is laughable. As they share their sorrows they also share their joys. You buy their kind of joy by the canteen full, and believe me they are a joyous pair. The old fellow has been joyous for about fifteen years.

The other two Légionnaires are Belgians and unimportant. Then we have two Italians who remind me of brigands. One is a big husky fellow and the other is a typical dramatic villain; good looking, dashing and all that stuff. We have an Italian kid with us, but he is only a nuisance. The two brigands take an interest in him to the extent of continually kicking and cuffing him around. Well, as I was reading the magazine I heard a noise in the yard and upon going out found the six-foot corporal slugging the five-foot five Légionnaire. I was glad to see it because the little fellow needs a beating. He talks too much. Weeks was out there and did not like the unevenness of the fight so he interfered. The big brigand then came up and hit the little Légionnaire a “beaut,” knocking him across the yard. The little fellow got up just in time to be knocked back across the yard, and the big fellow was going to repeat the performance when Weeks interfered again.

By this time we were all out in the yard enjoying the fun. The argument got pretty hot and finally, as usual, the peacemaker got a wallop in the jaw. The American section acted as if they were all hit, and in fact they were when one of them was hit. In a fraction of a second it was the biggest free-for-all I was ever in or hope to be in. We battled around the yard to a fare-you-well and in no time the guard was on the scene with fixed bayonets, but we still kept on.

In a lull in the action I happened to look around in time to see the villainous looking bandit picking up a brick. I made a bee-line for him and in no time had received a good clout on my bean for my trouble. The guards eventually separated us, but the Americans carried the day. They started to take me to the lock-up but I landed at the infirmary and had my head bandaged. They locked Pavelka up, but he should have come with me, as a friend of the bandits hit him on the forehead with a dish pan. He needed bandaging and soon was sent back for treatment. We all shook hands and called it square.

The next day we marched to the railroad and came north. It was a wretched trip as we were packed closely in freight cars and it took twenty-four hours to come two hundred kilometres, being about one hundred and twenty-five miles. We left the cars at a town called Aubigny, which is about six miles due west of the village of La Targette, but we located in a town nearer the front. At night we marched to the trenches and worked there. It was very dangerous: the outposts being about fifty yards apart. One night the second fellow from me was hit in the stomach. It is good to work under such conditions, as work takes the mind from the bullets; inaction under fire is a terrible strain on the nerves.

We were in the trenches three days, worked all day and at night we went out on the field and laid down four hours at a stretch, to guard against a surprise. To make matters worse it rained and the mud was a foot deep in places. We went back to a small town, arriving there at ten a. m.

We have everything in abundance. I have seen fellows throw shirts and other articles away, rather than wash them, as new ones are always given. There is actually more than enough of everything. We are living like princes.

I was glad to hear that my letter from Bouzy was received. Allowance must be made for the writing as it was done on a two-by-four-foot plank, which I straddled, my feet dangling. We Americans were all interested in the statement in the letter to me, that it has been said the Germans would treat Foreign Légionnaires who were not citizens of France as irregular soldiers; and the suggestions made for us to observe in case of capture will be followed.

VI
BATTLE OF ARTOIS; AT LA TARGETTE AND NEUVILLE ST. VAAST

_Somewhere near Aubigny
May 16, 1915._

On Sunday morning, May 9th, we were routed out at one o’clock and marched to the trenches, reaching the third line at sunrise, and at five o’clock our artillery increased its already very severe bombardment,—the continual rumble and vibration being beyond description. This lasted until ten o’clock and as soon as it stopped, Battalion C in our section left the trenches, charging with the bayonet.

They carried the trenches with great loss. I understand the Germans were panic stricken by the bombardment and one of their battalions was buried as the trenches collapsed under our heavy artillery fire.

Battalion A followed C and lost a great many; there are two Americans in A, one of them is O. K. while the other was shot twice, in the shoulder and in the leg.

Our Battalion B left the trenches right after A under a heavy rifle and machine gun fire, the ground we crossed being well strewn with dead and dying of Battalions C and A. We charged across fields in a line of skirmishes, and I will never be able to satisfy myself how so many of us got through safely.

When we reached the first line of German trenches we found them battered and destroyed by our bombardment. Soon after crossing them our first stop was in the shelter of a road. Here the good looking bandit, the fellow who hit me with the brick, got reckless and tried to survey the landscape; he was killed instantly by a bullet through the heart. No convulsive tossing of the arms one reads about or sees in the movies—he just sank down and it was all over. Soon after we left this position, the other bandit was shot through the leg. There was absolutely no ill feeling between us on account of our scrap.

We then laid down on the ground and soon the Germans got our range; six men close to me were hit; so we started on again.

The German artillery had opened on us, and the suspense of lying there and waiting to be hit is indescribable. The shells were bursting all around me and one rushed by so close that I actually think a chunk of solidified air hit me on the forehead; anyway, something bruised my forehead. I rushed over and got into the hole, it was five feet deep. I happened to be looking where four men were lying, when a shell blew the four of them to dust.

In my letter from Lyon I mentioned three brothers from Argentina; they were inseparable even in death; they were killed side by side.

We finally took the crest of a hill, it was dusk and we dug ourselves in.

I shall never forget the picture displayed as I looked back across the field in the fading light. It is a nightmare: during the entire night the cries of the wounded rang out. I had a pleasant bedfellow,—a corporal and he lay in the trench, only two feet away. He actually fascinated me. I could not help looking at his brains which stuck out of the back of his neck, exactly like two horns. During the next day they gradually melted until at nightfall they had slid entirely off his neck. Grand, grand indeed, is this butchery they call war!

During the night we were on the watch, and at times the fire from the enemy, aided by the German night-lights, was severe.

As day broke Monday we were ready for the counter attack, which was sure to come and it came early and fierce. Their artillery shelled us in a most desperate manner, and men were killed and wounded in large numbers and very close to me; and again the suspense of expecting to be hit by a shell was horrible.

Bavarian troops were opposite and they made a rush for us, and I am bound to acknowledge that no human beings could have shown more bravery and determination than they did: but our artillery was most effective, and we stood firm in our trenches and smeared them. Their counter attacks all failed and that night we still held the trenches we had dug.

We were entirely out of water both Sunday and Monday, and as a consequence suffered very much.

Early the next morning, before daybreak, reserves took our places and what was left of our regiment returned to the rear for reorganization.

I laugh when I try to think of civilization. But with all we must admit it is a great world and I do not regret that I am here.

_Somewhere near Aubigny,
May 20, 1915._

A sergeant was commanding our Company, all the officers having been killed or wounded. Our captain was a very game man; he led us without a sword or any side arms, only using his swagger stick. He was killed by a shell.

We advanced by sections. When the order came we jumped up, and carrying a sack as a shield, ran about one hundred feet,—and talk about Ty Cobb sliding into second base, it isn’t a circumstance to the way I hit the ground. And what a strain it was on the nerves waiting for our turn to advance again, fellows all around being hit. In a couple of cases I have seen men almost lifted from the ground, so hard were they struck. One fellow very near me was hit and began to squeal, almost immediately a second bullet hit him and he made for the rear on all fours crying like a child. The field was full of such sights.

But compared to the shells the bullets are nothing: give me most anything but an artillery bombardment. I cannot figure out how the five of us missed being hit.

The prisoners we took were well fed and clothed, but are sick of the war.

After the attack we were quartered in Mont St. Eloi, about two miles west of La Targette, but as it was in range and the Germans shelled us, we were sent ten miles to the rear to await recruits.

Our regiment lost heavily in killed and wounded, not half coming back. The little Italian kid I previously mentioned was too frightened to leave our trenches.

The six Americans of our squad, Larney, Rockwell, Pavelka, Smith, Weeks and myself passed through safely, except Rockwell who was shot in the leg. We learned he was cared for by our field ambulance.

VII
TO THE REAR FOR RECRUITING

_(Place Unknown),
June 10, 1915._

Soon after we were located at the rear to await recruits the General commanding our Division reviewed us and distributed five military medals.

We have a new Captain in the place of the one who was killed; he is a Swede and is very military; he has us drilling a great deal, and works us pretty hard, considering that we have smelt powder in the true sense of the term.

We have just learned that Italy has entered the war; also, that an American merchant-man has been torpedoed. We would like to see the United States keep out of the war if it can.

On May 29th we returned to a location near the front, and lately many German prisoners have passed us. One day as many as eight hundred went by; they looked well. By a strange coincidence the same Bavarian troops who faced us in Champagne are against us here, and yesterday we recognized a man in their ranks who deserted from us in Champagne. I guess it is all over with him; it should be.

It seems that our effort of May 9th was more successful than that of the British. The German prisoners say they cannot stand our artillery fire. I don’t blame them, as the French 75 centimeter field piece has proved to be the wonder of the war.

We are all well; in fact I never felt better in my life.

I have just received the packages from New York and am thankful for them. Socks are very desirable as we are on our feet a great part of the time and I can rest easy now that I am well stocked with them. The soup cubes were fine: we make soup every night before turning in. One of the tooth brushes was broken in transit but the other comes in handy as the one I brought from home is about used up. I am keeping the combs, but do not use them, as during the hot weather our hair is cut very close with the machine. Some fellows have their heads shaved, but I think that is going too far. This idea of having the hair cut short is a good one as it is very warm here now.

We spent four days in the trenches to the left of the ones the Legion occupied prior to the attack of May 9th. Skipper Pavelka and I went all through the devastated German trenches. I could find scarcely anything as we were there nearly three weeks after the attack and countless French soldiers had searched before us. I found some envelopes and wrappers for parcel post packages with the German postage stamps attached, and I send these to you; it will be seen the letters bear Bavarian postage stamps, and are directed to Bavarian infantry soldiers.

The German trenches were built much better than ours. Some of the huts in which the men lived were twenty feet under ground. They used a great number of dirt sacks: there must be a shortage of strong material in Germany, as these sacks were made mostly from cheap, light calico which was hardly strong enough to hold the earth.

They had an extensive system of mines and we made the attack just in time as Pavelka and I investigated the saps with the aid of a candle. They were all loaded and wired ready to be set off. One of them had been exploded. The Germans lost their bearings in digging, because the hole was actually nearer their own lines than it was to ours. They used a tremendous charge and the explosion must have been terrific for the result reminded me of the crater of a volcano; it was easily thirty feet deep.

Our bombardment before the attack of May 9th had played havoc with the German trenches; a great number of the roofs on the huts had fallen during the cannonading burying alive all the occupants. Around these places the stench was horrible. All through these trenches was evidence of heavy losses on the part of the Germans; at intervals, arms and legs projected from the walls and floor of the trenches, and all in all it was a pretty gruesome journey.

As a result of May 9th our line is advanced over two miles, but the Germans hold a dangerous position on the side of a large hill and it will be hard work chasing them off.

We have been out to dig trenches a couple of times and believe me we sure do work. Imagine getting up and working on the ground about two hundred and fifty yards from the German line with them shooting all the time. Work! you bet the men work with a will and it does not take long to get a good trench dug. They have a poor system here. We walk about seven miles from this town where we are now to the first line, dig a trench and walk back. We leave at six p. m. and get back at five a. m.—the idea of walking seven miles to work.

There is not much left of the Legion of May 9th; the Italians have been liberated to return to their own army. Our company had fifty-five men out of a full company of two hundred and fifty, but we expect to be filled up again with the men from Valbonne and Lyon. I should judge one thousand have already been sent up here from those places.

Well, this war is a great game. The next person who mentions the glories of war should be jumped on with both feet. Picture the charge with the band playing and the men singing—what tommy-rot. In the first place the instruments never get near the actual fighting, and in the second place the men at that time don’t care a hang for a song.

We have some fun with the boxing gloves, a new set having been sent to us from Paris. It is surprising to know how many good boxers there are around here. The other day two Zouaves who weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds each turned up and were very clever. One had boxed for the amateur championship of Tunis. They would give many professional fighters a run for the money. Two French cavalrymen had a bout that resulted in a knockout.

Time surely does fly: here it is nearly eight months since the old Goddess of Liberty disappeared into the distance in New York bay. It does not seem possible.

The ball that hit Rockwell’s leg just missed the bone, so he is recovering rapidly and hopes to be back with us soon.

We are all in the best of health and getting plenty to eat. We are unanimous in wishing for the war to end soon. Those who clamor for war the most in the States are those who know nothing about it. War is an asinine waste and I take my hat off to President Wilson for his level headedness.[4]

Footnote 4:

The above was the last letter received; the communication on the
following page was written on a military postal card.

_(Place Unknown)
June 15, 1915._

Dear Dad:

All well. Received your letter of May 30, 1915. We were there all right. Will write later. Love to all.

RUSSELL.

* * * * *

The First Regiment was cited in the official Order of the Day, as follows:

“The First Foreign Regiment of the Second _régiment de Marche_,
ordered May 9th under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Cot to make
a bayonet charge on a strong German position, went into the attack,
the officers leading in front of the men, with a superb gallantry,
gaining, with only brief stops, several kilometres of ground, in
spite of an extremely strong resistance of the enemy and a violent
fire from his machine guns.”

_Le Figaro_ of Paris, May 18th, 1915, contains an article from which the following translation is an extract, under the heading, “Nos succés du 9 mai dans le secteur, Carency-Neuville.”

“The attack on La Targette, led by a division of the army corps from
the neighborhood, mentioned in the army order, was conducted with a
remarkable boldness and was a complete success.

“The artillery had, by its fire, demolished a large part of the
barb-wire and other accessories of the defence. A certain number of
mitrailleuses had escaped destruction, and the enemy continued to
hold them.

“At the first assault our infantry reached the border of the woods,
but it was stopped there by fire on the flank. The infantry resumed
the attack immediately and took a part of the trenches at ten
o’clock; which it held, and at a quarter past eleven took all of La
Targette and three hundred and fifty prisoners, many pieces of
seventy-seven and a large number of mitrailleuses.

“Holding La Targette, they were masters of the cross-roads of
Arras-Béthune and Mont Saint-Eloi-Neuville.

“They reformed rapidly, thanks to the heroic work of the engineer
corps, and advanced upon Neuville.

“This village presents itself in the form of a point. It was, as an
officer expressed it, 'a real bundle of mitrailleuses and of
lancebombs.’ The assault was, however, made and about three o’clock
we attacked the church.

“From each loopholed house, from each cellar organized into a
covered trench, the enemy fired on our men. They conquered, however,
house by house, half of the village, and in spite of all
counter-attacks we held the captured ground. It was a tremendous
struggle amidst the wreckage and smoke.

“Every minute augmented the number of prisoners. We saw them rush
out from their hiding places, reckless of safety, stupefied by our
bombardment, dumbfounded by our dash, and in a moment, towards the
other side of the village some columns were detached, and our
cavalry conducted the prisoners towards the rear, to the great joy
of the population.

“Behold the road of Béthune: a new attack. The battalions in the
lead scaled the slope at the east and behind them, the others
arriving, killed and despatched all whom they encountered.

“Our officers fell in great numbers. Of four chiefs of battalions
there was not more than one left. One of the colonels is seriously
wounded. The general of the brigade who led in advance of his
troops, had his chest pierced by a ball.

“It made no difference, they went on with redoubled ardor. The men
came at a gymnastic pace, leaped over the trenches, attacked the
crest and the very crown of the crest.

“The courier started, reached the telephonic post and sent in an
account. One can hardly believe it. It was done; more than four
kilometres gained (two and a half miles).

“Never before in this war of a siege which has lasted for seven
months, has a like success been obtained either by the Germans or by
us. A German colonel was taken prisoner at his post of command.
Behind our victorious battalions, our forces gathered up and
unearthed from their burrows hundreds of Germans. We destroyed or
captured, substantially, a whole brigade.”

VIII
SUPPLEMENTARY

_Battle of Artois—Souchez—Hill No. 119._

No communication has been received from Russell Kelly since his postal card of June 15th, mentioned in the foregoing chapter. He took part with his regiment in the battle on the following day, and since then has been missing, and his name is still carried on the French War Office Official list of missing. As the reader may be interested in the subsequent occurrences, the following facts are given.

The battle of Waterloo occurred on June 18, 1815, and as its centenary approached the public expected an unusual effort would be made in commemoration of that momentous event.

Whether or not the warring powers gave any heed to this circumstance, is not known, but preparations were made by the Allies before that date, on a most extensive scale, for a formidable effort to break through the German lines in France.

On June 15th the soldiers of the Legion were each given one hundred extra rounds of ammunition; these they carried in their _meusettes_ or haversacks; their belts contained the regular allowance of two hundred and fifty rounds. New underclothing and shirts were furnished to the troops that day, so that those who might be wounded would be less liable to contract the dreaded tetanus. A special mass was celebrated that day and the Catholic soldiers attended to their religious duties. Many of the soldiers made provision for the event of disaster. John Smith left an envelope with instructions that it be opened if he did not return from the attack. When it was opened it was found to contain a statement that his real name was John Earl Fike, and it gave his mother’s name and address, with a request that she be notified of his fate. Lawrence Scanlan also left written directions for notifying his mother and Russell Kelly sent the postal card given on page 99.

The extreme northerly end of the French line of battle was then at Souchez and that position was held by one battalion of Zouaves, about one thousand men; next to them was the Second _régiment de Marche_ of the First Foreign Regiment, consisting of about four thousand men. In this last regiment was of course our five Americans, the sixth, Rockwell, being then in hospital.