Chapter II: Camp DIX

Most of you saw it for the first time when you rolled into the long train shed, and hiked up to your barracks through a mile or more of company streets, in a city of forty thousand men, the hundreds of large barracks already weatherbeaten with the snows and rains of winter.

We, however, after changing trains several times, finally rolled up to what was apparently a piano box in a lumber yard, and were there assured by the conductor that this was Camp Dix. We tumbled off, and trudged away through six inches of New Jersey dust toward the only building in sight with a roof on it--camp headquarters. Our bags became heavier and heavier; our new uniforms were fearfully hot; our new shoes and puttees, with which we had been dazzling admiring womenfolks and causing menfolk to grunt with assumed indifference, were abominably tight and pinchy.

Finally we straggled in to headquarters, to indulge for a couple of hours in that amusement so familiar to every man in the army--standing in line for an hour to do two minutes of red tape. When our turn was over, we went over to a partially completed barracks, where we were each allowed to appropriate 1 cot, iron. This was the limit of our accommodation--those who couldn’t get away to some nearby town slept on the soft side of a piece of bristol board. We walked to the ether side of camp for all our meals--about two miles, if you didn’t lose your way.

The next morning we attended a rollcall at 9 A. M. There we met Col. Marcus B. Stokes, the commanding officer; and Lt. Col. Edgar Myer, second in command. We found that the officers from Madison Barracks, Cos. 5 and 6, with half of the Troop formed the nucleus of the new regiment.

Capt. Odom was Regimental Adjutant and to my horror I was at once made Regimental Supply Officer. The following officers were assigned to “B” company:

Capt. Russell H. Brennan, commanding company,
2d Lt. Roy A. Schuyler,
2d Lt. Fred S. Fish,
2d Lt. Wm. D. Ashmore.

For a month the regiment went through the agonies of organization. Supplies came in by driblets; transportation there was none, save for two hopelessly over-worked motor truck companies, which put in half their time trying to separate their trucks from the sacred soil of Jersey. A great swarm of civilian workmen were toiling feverishly to get up the barracks. The regiment was moved four times in as many weeks. The roads were six inches deep in mud or dust.

The first enlisted men in the regiment were three former candidates at Madison Barracks, who, through no fault of their own, had not received commissions, but who wouldn’t leave the bunch, and enlisted in the regiment,--Dave Gardenier, Art McCann, and Jimmie Hooker. McCann and Gardenier were made regimental sergeants major, and Hooker was my regimental supply sergeant.

In about a week a number of men came in from various Regular Army regiments, to form a nucleus of N. C. O.’s. “B” company received Ertwine, Robbins, and J. M. Newell. These men were shortly afterward made corporals on recommendation of Capt. Brennan.

From Sept. 19th to Sept. 22d, the men of the first draft came in. As Supply Officer, my own troubles kept me pretty busy during those strenuous days. I knew “B” company, however, as a good outfit. Capt. Brennan’s steady, methodical, tireless work, and the energy and devotion of his three lieutenants showed results from the first. Lt. Fish, a former National Guard officer, was an old hand and steadied the younger officers.

After two months of hard work, the companies began to round out into some sort of shape. The non-commissioned officers were selected, with as much care as was possible in the limited time allowed for observation of the new men. The first top sergeant of “B” Co. was Eilert, a sturdy and sterling product of the first draft, who had been a foreman in a large factory. The “top” is, absolutely, the most essential man in a company. His position is such that he has to see to the carrying out of all the disagreeable orders, and making the details for all the dirty jobs, while at the same time he is not protected by any barrier of rank. He is usually cordially detested and thoroughly respected by the men, and is about as useful to the officers as a right hand. We never had a top in “B” Co. who was not absolutely loyal to the service and to the company commander; never one who shrank from the most disagreeable duty, nor who gave a thought to his personal popularity. They were human, of course, and made mistakes like the rest of us; and sometimes they couldn’t help being placed in a bad light to the men. But you men--some of you, even, who beefed most against the tops--if you only knew how many times that same top came to the company commander or other officers to help out this fellow or that, to suggest some way of making things easier for the whole company; if you knew how hard and thankless a job they held; possibly you would have been a little more lenient in your judgments.

James McC. Newell was the first supply sergeant, and got away with everything not nailed down. Samuel Tritapoe was Mess Sgt. until Lt. Wagner recognized his ability and took him for a regimental supply sergeant, and Warren Sculthorp succeeded to this thankless but highly important job. The other sergeants, as well as I remember, were Ertwine, Perry, Anness and Robbins. Joe Levy was soon drafted by Newell to make the accounts balance; Harold Sculthorpe started on his culinary career; Sweeney, Rogers, Tom Viracola, Howard Lehy, Hayden and Long Bill Reid were corporals. Sutton and Weber were detailed at the regimental exchange where they were a great factor in making it the best in the division. And last, but not least, deBruin was man of all work and plumber-in-chief. Red Sheridan also started his lurid career with “B” Co., and helped deBruin and “Bugs” Wardell to dispose of the vanilla extract rations.

Toward the middle of October, Lt. Foulkes arrived from Cambridge, Mass., where he had been sent for a special course in trench warfare. He was assigned to B Co., and remained as second in command until he was made battalion adjutant in July 1918.

Now started in the era of transfers. New drafts were constantly coming in; and as soon as we would get them uniformed and able to negotiate a “Squads Right” without losing each other, they would be drawn away to fill up some other division destined for overseas duty before the 78th. Not once, but a dozen times between September and May did this happen, leaving the company with its officers and a skeleton of N. C. O.’s, cooks and orderlies.

On December 6th, Capt. Brennan and I were interchanged, he taking over the Supply Company and I, “B” Co.

The winter wore on, and spring was upon us, and we seemed no nearer France than before. Changes took place in officers as well as enlisted men. Lt. Ashmore went to “A” Co.; Lt. Fish to the Supply Co.; 2d Lts. Dunn and Merrill and 1st Lt. Vanderbilt took their places with “B” Co. The time was filled with training and equipping the ever changing quotas of recruits and drilling them in fundamentals; for the training cadre of officers and N. C. O.’s there were special courses in bayonet fighting, bombing, trench digging--how many cold and weary hours were swallowed up in that trench system east of the regimental area!--and ever and always wind, mud and snow, or wind, sun and dust.

When the March drafts came in, rumors took a new lease on life. The 77th division was being equipped to leave Camp Upton; our turn would probably come next. The transfers went out now to fill up, not other divisions, but our own artillery regiments across the parade ground. Work on the target range was increased. Ah, the joys of being routed out of the hay long before daybreak, snatching a hasty breakfast, and hiking off through the cold dawn, five miles through the barrens to that wind-swept waste with the long rows of targets.

1st Sgt. Eilert and Supply Sgt. Newell had been selected to attend the officers’ training school. Sgt. Ertwine, who had shown exceptional ability while in charge of the recruits’ barracks, was made 1st Sgt., and Joe Levy, of course, became Supply Sgt.

It was not all work and no play, though. At night there were movies at the “Y” huts; the Post Exchange for those who had something left from insurance, allotments and other ornaments of the pay roll,--or who were gifted enough to fill a full house or roll a “natural” consistently. And on Saturday afternoon and Sunday the lucky 25% would be off for a few precious hours at home or in the city, while the camp would be filled with visitors to the less fortunate.

April passed, and May arrived with green trees and warm days. We bought baseball equipment, and each company had a team (I wonder who got hold of all that stuff finally?). The April drafts had brought the companies above normal strength. Tents were put up in the company streets to accommodate the overflow.

These were busy days for Supply Sgt. Levy and Cpl. Jimmie Jones, Company Clerk. There was a continuous procession in and out the door of the squad room where Levy had established his headquarters; recruits going in with blissful visions of emerging in the likeness of a magazine ad. soldier; departing with murder in their hearts because their trousers bagged at the knees. And Joe, who remembered last September when recruits would bum around for a month before getting a sign of a uniform, had scant sympathy with them.

This was also an era of reports. Reports on how many men we had; how many shirts each man had; how many extra shoe-laces were in our possession; how many men had W. R. insurance; how many were yet to be inoculated and how many times. Twice a day did I have to report for officers’ meeting; twice a day would the Colonel hold forth on the reports the general wanted, which company commanders would prepare at once, personally, in writing; then the adjutant would begin on the reports the colonel wanted; then the supply officer would chime in with a few more that he had to have by six o’clock at the latest. Life was a veritable nightmare of typewritten figures. The supply sergeant of “L” company actually lost his mind under the strain. Drill was carried on in the intervals of lining up for another check or inspection. And the men, quite naturally, looked upon the officers as a set of lunatics who didn’t know their own minds for ten minutes at a time.

About May 1st, an advance party of some 25 officers and men left the regiment, so we knew we were soon to follow. Lts. Schuyler and Merrill were in this party. They attended the A. E. F. Schools at Chatillon-sur-Seine, and rejoined us about July 1st.

At last the company was filled up to war strength, and equipped down to the last shoe lace. On Friday, May 17th, all visitors were excluded from camp. That evening I assembled the company and put the proposition up to every man in it whether he wanted to go to France or not, offering to leave anyone behind who wished to remain. I am proud to say that not a man applied to be left.

Saturday was a hectic day of last preparations. The barracks were stripped down to their last mattress and swept out. The typewriters clicked busily until the last minute. Tom Viracola, one of our best sergeants, who had been tripped on a slight disability by the medicos at the last minute and was nearly heartbroken, was to be left in charge of barracks.

About nine o’clock the company was formed for the last time at its old home. Packs were heavy with the regulation equipment, tobacco, and gifts from home. As I was signing some last papers under the arc light, “C” company moved out silently. I gave “Squads left, march,” the company wheeled out and we were off for the station.

The road was lined with soldiers from the Depot Brigade as we passed. Here and there we saw a familiar face, and though the movement was to be kept as quiet as possible, there was many a husky “so long, fellows” and “good-bye, 311, good luck,” to cheer us on our way.

Packs were heavier every step, and what with the extra rations, typewriter, etc., we were glad to have a half hour’s rest at the station. Then the word came to fall in again--how many times were we to hear those weary words, “Fall in”--and the company filed along to the day coaches awaiting them. Equipment was removed, and all made themselves as comfortable as they could for the night.

Early in the morning the train pulled out. As dawn broke, we made out the names of some of the New Jersey towns we passed through. Many a lad saw his home town for the last time as we rolled through it in the chill of that May morning.

At Jersey City we detrained and passed through the station to the ferry. Several civilians asked us where we were going; but the men realized the importance of secrecy, and all the curious ones got was a gruff invitation to “put on a uniform and find out.”

Then we were jammed on a ferry boat. It was some jam, too, leaving those who hadn’t been trained on the subway gasping.

Down to the street, on between the great warehouses, and into a spacious covered pier. Here was the point of embarkation, where we had been told every service record was examined, every man inspected; the focus of all the red tape that had been driving us insane for the past two months. To our very agreeable surprise, however, the loading was handled by two or three business-like men in civvies, who merely checked each company on the boat by the passenger lists as fast as the men could hike up the gangplank.

We were met by Lt. Gibbs, battalion adjutant, who led us below, pointed out three decks each about the size of our Camp Dix orderly room, and announced that these were B Co.’s palatial quarters. I gasped, and remarked that we were much obliged, but suppose someone should want to turn around, where would he be, and howinell was Geoghegan going to get in one of those little canvas napkins they called hammocks, anyhow? He replied that I ought to see “C” company’s place, and melted away in a fashion peculiar to Bn. Adjts. when leaving Co. Cmdrs. S. O. L. A few moments later we heard him consoling Capt. O’Brien on the deck above by telling him that he ought to see “B” Co.’s place.