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FROM SOUTHAMPTON TO LE HAVRE

On the dock at Southampton, the British Y. M. C. A. operated a canteen, selling hot coffee, cakes without sugar, and ginger bread made of ginger and water. The supply lasted about fifteen minutes, as we were one hungry bunch.

We boarded the "Archangel," a small passenger boat, about 9 P. M. on the sixth of June. In peace times the "Archangel" was used as a pleasure steamer, but was converted into a troop ship to ply between Southampton and Le Havre. It had three decks, which accommodated about 325 men each. We donned our life-belts, as usual, and tried to make ourselves comfortable, but like all troop ships, that was impossible. The men tried sleeping on deck, but it turned too cold, and they tried below deck. Some were sleeping in the once "state-rooms," but they were too small to accommodate all, so the rest slept in gang-ways, on chairs, benches and barrack bags. We were tired in body but our spirits were high, and we wanted to see the front, so we lay down where we happened to be, using our life-belts as pillows. While pulling out into the harbor, we saw ships in dry dock with large holes in their hulls, others with nothing above water but the masts, all caused by the submarines. And when the little speed demon raised anchor and slipped out of the harbor, we were all fast asleep, never dreaming of what lay before us in France, and not caring a great deal either. We waited in the outside harbor until dark, or about 10 o'clock, and then started our trip across the channel. The boat made very good time, and the trip was uneventful.

At about 7 A. M. we were called to breakfast, which consisted of the customary bully-beef, coffee and hard-tack, and upon coming on deck, we discovered that we were resting safely at one of the big docks of Le Havre. The sun was shining bright and hot, and after unloading and having our pictures taken by a moving picture camera, we were lined up and marched toward the city proper of Le Havre. We were a tired, disappointed bunch of men, for instead of the beautiful country we had expected, we saw a factory infested city. The docks looked more like an arsenal, with cases of ammunition everywhere, and it looked as if the whole French and English armies were working there.

On our march to the rest camp, we passed large bodies of French and Indo-Chinese laborers unloading cars, and conveying merchandise to the warehouses. It was a common sight to see two or three of them pulling a large, two-wheeled cart full of ammunition. We also passed a number of German prisoners working on the roads, with the usual "Poilu" present, with his long rifle and bayonet. It was strange to see the French carrying their guns just opposite to the way the American troops do. We saw many large caliber guns and caissons, that were back from the front for repair, also blocks of salvaged motor trucks.

We marched about five miles to American Rest Camp No. 2, and were put into an old cow-shed to sleep. It was the first billet we had in France, and while it was not the most desirable place in the world to sleep, it looked mighty good to us, as we had not had much rest since leaving Romsey, England.

We were issued meal tickets, and had English tea, war bread and cheese for breakfast, "slum" and war bread for dinner, and English tea and cheese for supper. We had a good night's sleep, but the next morning we were hiked up on a mountain, where we were issued English gas-masks. We went through a gas chamber, to see that the masks were O. K., and to give us confidence in them. About noon trucks were brought up to take us back to camp, and upon arriving there, we were given orders to roll packs and be ready to move. Every one made a trip to the Y. M. C. A. where we could buy our first American cigarettes since coming from the States. We did not know where we were going, or when we could buy more.

OUR TRIP THROUGH FRANCE TO ELOYES

At three P. M. on June the eighth we rolled our packs and started on our first venture into the mysteries of France. It took us about forty-five minutes of steady hiking through hot and dusty streets to reach the depot where we were to entrain. We found a long string of second and third class coaches waiting for us. Our barrack bags and three days rations had been loaded on two box cars by a special detail sent ahead for that purpose.

We crowded into our cars and all was ready to go. A description of a French car might help one to get a better idea of our situation. The car is only about one-half as long as an American coach and it is divided into five separate compartments. Each compartment has a window and a door on each side. There is a step on the outside running the entire length of the car. It is just below the level of the floor and one can walk from one compartment to the other if he is not afraid of falling off the car. The compartment is about large enough for four persons to ride in any degree of comfort if they have cushions to sit on; but the Railway transport officer evidently thought that there would be more room if the cushions were removed. There were eight of us to each compartment.

We were scheduled to leave at three P. M. and by rushing a little we were loaded by a few minutes after that hour. We lived up to the reputation of the Sanitary Train for always being on time and pulled out of the station only three hours late. We thought at least that we were going to see some of the beautiful France we had heard about. We had not gone far when we realized that we were going to have plenty of time to look at the scenery. France must have some very strict laws against speeding for we never traveled faster than ten miles per hour and it was very seldom that we ever went that fast.

We ate our supper as soon as we were out of Le Havre. It was a very hearty meal. Each man's issue was five crackers, one-eighth of a can of "corn wooley," one-eighth of a can of tomatoes. He didn't have much variation from that during the trip.

Our next problem was, how were we going to sleep. It did not take long to solve that. Two of the boys slept in the hat racks, four slept in the seats and two slept on the floor between the seats. Part of the time we slept piled on top of each other. When we woke up in the morning we felt like we had sat up all night.

The second day we began to get our first real sight of France. We saw soldiers guarding the bridges and tunnels. Troop trains passed us all day long going to from the front carrying both French and American soldiers. We saw our first real barbed wire entanglements that day and it made us realize that we were getting near the place where the fighting was going on. The children all along the way attracted our attention by running along the track crying "biskeet" and holding out their hands. They looked queer to us. They wore a little black apron and wooden shoes. Some of the fellows threw hard tack out the window to them just to see them scramble for it.

The rest of our trip was similar to the first day. We went by the way of Rouen and Troyes and arrived in Epinal, a city on the edge of the Vosges mountains, on the evening of June the tenth. We were a very tired and hungry bunch for our rations had run low that morning and we had eaten nothing but hard tack all day.

We detrained there and marched through the town to an old military prison of Napoleon's time. We were told that we would spend the night there. There were several large buildings surrounded by a high stone wall with only one gate and that was guarded by a French soldier. There were about one hundred German prisoners in the building next to our quarters. As we were not permitted to go up town the French people thought that we were prisoners also. We were given our barrack bags that night for the first time since we left the states. We were without any funds so some of the boys who were fortunate enough to have some "Bull Durham" stored away in their barrack bags disposed of it to the French soldiers for a franc a package. It was an exchange where both parties were satisfied.

We learned that the division was billeted a few miles south and the next morning we received orders to move to Eloyes at two P. M. Trucks were furnished to haul our barrack bags and packs and we started out hiking with our company in the lead of the train. We were half way there when we saw our first aeroplanes in action along the front. There were five of them in battle formation returning from the direction of the front. We noticed that houses and lumber piles along the road were camouflaged. This began to look like the war that we had heard about. We passed through Arches, division headquarters at that time, about mess. We thought that we were at the end of our long journey and could almost taste our supper but we did not stop there. Just as we came in sight of Eloyes it began to rain. It did not rain long and the sun came out just as we were climbing the hill to our kitchen. There was a very pretty rainbow with the end of it, so it seemed, right at our kitchen. That was one time that there was something better than a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, for the cooks had supper almost ready for us. It certainly tasted good to us after our long hike.

It began raining almost immediately after supper and rained most of the night. We stood around in the rain until almost eleven P. M., while the Major de Cantonment was explaining that he had no billets for us. We were tired enough to pitch our pup tents and sleep in the streets but finally we marched about a mile out of town and were put in a barn for the night. One of the boys said he will always feel like a criminal for robbing a calf of its bed and also for carrying away about a thousand "petite crawling animals."

We marched back to town the next morning about eight A. M. and enjoyed a breakfast of bacon, hardtack and coffee. During the day the soldiers who occupied the town moved out and by five o'clock our company was located in fairly good billets.

It rained so consistently that we did not get to drill for over a week. We were issued our overseas caps and spiral leggins a few days after we arrived in Eloyes. At the same time we turned in our barrack bags and russet shoes. We were equipped for the trenches.

We began drilling by going out under some trees and practicing with our gas masks. A few days later we received litters and then our real drilling began. "Patients" would be sent out and located on the sides of the steep hills and the litter bearers were supposed to locate them and bring them safely down the almost impassable paths.

However, the boys were not worked very hard and they had plenty of time to spend with the inhabitants learning to "parlez Francais." Many of the soldiers acquired private instructors in the shape of small French boys who were only too glad to be adopted by the Americans. The typewriter in the office was a big drawing card for children. There was always a large bunch hanging around to watch "Abe" operate the machine.

We received some English army trucks here and after teaching them to "Talk American" used them as ambulances. We evacuated the sick of the division to Field Hospital 137 at Eloyes.

About the middle of June the division was ordered up to take over the sector east of us in Alsace. Lieut. Siberts took a detachment with trucks to Bussang to cover the movement, evacuating his patients to Field Hospital 139 which went into action there. This detachment was the first detachment of the Sanitary Train to operate in Alsace.

IN ACTION ON THE WESSERLING SECTOR

Late in June, 1918, the 35th Division relieved the French troops on a portion of the front line in Alsace. Ambulance Company 139 entered Alsace on June 24th and located in the quiet little village of Ranspach, thus being the first company of the 110th Sanitary Train to cross the former boundary line between French and German soil. Ranspach is near the much larger factory town of Wesserling, and, Division Headquarters being located at the latter place, the whole 12 or 15 kilometres of front held by the 35th Division has come to be termed the "Wesserling Sector". The front line itself was about ten kilometres east of Wesserling.

Practically the whole front in Alsace was made up of what were called "quiet" sectors, to distinguish them from "active" sectors. Alsace is mountainous and the mountains are usually heavily timbered. The valleys are narrow, and the main ones run north by south. The front lines also ran north by south, parallel to the valleys. Hence, neither side could gain ground without paying dearly for it. By a sort of mutual understanding, both the French and the German troops had come to regard Alsace as a place to rest, after the strenuous campaigns on other fronts. When our fresh troops came, they made Alsace a less quiet front, but for the most part they merely held their ground, as the French had done for nearly four years after having pushed the Germans back part way through Alsace in August, 1914. It was a final training area for American divisions that had just arrived overseas.

Ambulance Company 139 maintained its headquarters at Ranspach for exactly one month. During that time, however, most of the company was at the front. Those who were left did not have to drill, for we were within aerial observation and no formations could be stood. The trenches were scarcely five miles away, tho by the winding road up through the mountains it was twice that far. The main diversion during the day was watching the anti-aircraft batteries shoot at the Boche aeroplanes. On the morning of July 3rd we were rewarded for our patience, upon seeing our first Boche plane fall after being hit. It must have been 5000 ft. in the air when hit, and made a straight nose dive for the earth, but before it landed, it righted itself and spun around like a leaf until it hit the ground.

Every evening we would have our supper contested. An old man and his dog grazed a herd of goats during the day, and brought them home in the evening, just when we were eating. They passed right by our kitchen and tried their best to help themselves to our supper. As the goats passed by their respective houses, the dog would separate them and run them into their own yards. In the morning, at the sound of a horn, the goats would run out of their houses and join the collective herd.

Canes became the style from the buck private up, and every evening we would go walking, Wesserling, St. Amarin, or the cherry trees on the sides of the mountain being the chief points of interest. The canes were a great help in climbing the hills.

For the first time since our arrival in France we were paid, and in French money, and that evening "vin rouge" reigned supreme in the little village. It didn't take us long to become accustomed to francs and centimes, instead of dimes and quarters.

Within two days after reaching Ranspach we sent out small detachments of litter bearers to Nennette, Duchet and Wagram, as the 35th Division was already moving up to relieve the French. The last named detachment returned two days later, because no American infantry was to hold that portion of the line. Still later the detachment at Nennette moved to Larchey.

After studying the maps and roads of the sector, the company commander decided to divide it into two subsectors, the one on the right centering at Larchey, and the one on the left at Mittlach. Accordingly, on June 29th, two detachments from the company left Ranspach together. One detachment of ten men, Lt. Bates, was to take to Larchey; the other of seven men, Lt. Monteith, was to take to Mittlach. As the company had no ambulances, all the men hiked, carrying their packs. One of the Sanitary Service Units commonly known as the "S. S. U." had been attached to our company for ambulance service, so one of its Ford ambulances started out by another route to haul the officers' luggage and some medical supplies to the two stations. There was a box of surgical dressings and a box of food for each station. And herein lies one of the mysteries of the war. The ambulance stopped at Larchey first, as it was the nearer of the two points, but while the box of surgical dressings reached Mittlach, the box of food never did. Was it left at Larchey or lost in transit? Before the two detachments reached Larchey they separated, the detachment headed for Mittlach keeping the main road. When it arrived at Mittlach late that evening the Ford ambulance had already gone, and it left no food box there. Sgt. Pringle accused Sgt. Knight of the theft, and therein lies an argument to this day.

In each of the two sectors the same plan was followed so far as the handling of casualties was concerned. Detachments of litter bearers went out to the different dressing stations established by the sanitary detachments of the infantry. These dressing stations, or infirmaries, as they are sometimes called, were located as close to the front lines as wounded men could be collected with safety. The 138th Infantry held the lines in front of Larchey, and the 137th Infantry in front of Mittlach. Sgt. Wiershing had already taken one litter squad to Mittlach and from there on out to a post called Braunkopf, where the infirmary of the third battalion was located.

The French had an Alpine Ambulance at Mittlach and another at Larchey. It is well, here, to say a few words about these organizations. They in no way resemble our American Ambulance Companies, corresponding rather to our Field Hospitals, though even more complete than these. Alpine Ambulances were usually within three kilometres of the front line and often in plain view of the enemy. Hence they must be housed in dugouts. The one at Mittlach consisted of a series of underground chambers roofed over with heavy timbers and stone. There was a well equipped operating room and a chamber for treating gassed patients. The whole thing was lighted by electricity. In fact, it was a modern hospital located within a mile and a half of the front line trenches.

The staff of each Alpine Ambulance was permanent. It did not move away when the French Infantry left a sector; hence the natural and logical thing to do was to secure permission to use the Alpine Ambulance as a dressing station. This we did at both Larchey and Mittlach. In the former case the dressing station was operated by Lt. Vardon and a detail from our company; in the latter case by a detachment from Ambulance Company 138. The French willingly placed their hospital equipment at the disposal of these detachments.

At both Larchey and Mittlach each litter squad consisted of four men equipped with one litter, and, where the road was suitable, a two-wheeled litter cart. The detachment at Larchey also had a mule which was supposed to pull the litter cart, but usually the men pulled it rather than bother fetching the mule. Theoretically the battalion aid stations of the infantry should be well up toward the front line trench so that the wounded can receive prompt attention. The litter bearers of the Ambulance Company are supposed to take the wounded after first aid has been given, and carry them back to the ambulance dressing station, where an ambulance takes them on back to a field hospital. In practice this plan did not always work out while we were in the Vosges Mountains. The front line was so irregular and good locations for battalion aid stations so few that they were sometimes almost in the front line trench, and at other times quite far back. As a result it was frequently impossible to place relay posts so as to equalize the work of our litter squads.

In the Larchey sector there was one main road leading out toward the front. About two kilometres from Larchey, at a point called Brun, this road branched, the branches leading to points named Vialet, Sermet, Fokeday and Old Colette. We had litter squads stationed at each of the above named points. An ambulance could go from Larchey to Brun in daylight without being seen by the Germans so when a litter squad had carried their patient to Brun, they telephoned in to Larchey for the ambulance. A separate road led from Larchey to a point to the northeast called DeGalbert. Two litter squads were stationed there, and later a mule was sent down, to be used for pulling the litter cart. Two litter squads were also sent to Vialet and some men had to be kept in reserve at Larchey. By July 4th we had about thirty-two men in the Larchey sector.

At Mittlach our territory was divided into two distinct parts by a rather wide valley that ran straight east and west for about one kilometre below the town, and then joined the main valley running north and south. The German trenches were on the eastern slope of this main valley and ours were on the western slope and in the valley itself. The German artillery had a clear sweep at Mittlach and the side valley, which could not be crossed in the daytime. Nor was it practical for an ambulance to go east of Mittlach in daylight. Hence we had to establish two distinct routes of evacuation for litter cases. The northern route led from Mittlach out along the side of the mountain to Krantz, where a relay squad was stationed. Further on at Braunkopf we stationed another litter squad in the battalion aid station. About three kilometres beyond Braunkopf, at a point called Runtz, we had another squad. This station was at the extreme left of the sector held by the 35th Division Infantry, and was a good eight kilometres from Mittlach. Both Runtz and Braunkopf evacuated to Krantz, where the relay squad took the patients and either hauled them by litter carts or carried them to Mittlach. On the southern route the main road from Mittlach led to Camp Dubarle, where we stationed six men as a relay. Other squads were stationed beyond Dubarle at the ruined village of Metzeral, at D'Angeley, and at Camp Martin, the latter being about nine kilometres southeast of Mittlach. All patients collected on the southern route were evacuated through Dubarle. These numerous posts required many men, so that by July 4th there were forty from the company at Mittlach. The last detachments that left Ranspach were a disappointed lot. The company was preparing a big dinner for the next day, and some of these men had worked helping to prepare it – then they had to shoulder their packs late on the night of the 3rd of July and hike to Larchey and Mittlach.

During the month that this company had a detachment at Larchey there were two raids in that sector. About the sixth of July, Company "H" of the 138th Infantry made a raid. The artillery preparation began at 7:45 in the evening and at 8:30 the raiding party of one officer and 238 men went over the top. They were gone one-half hour, and at about the same time that they came back to our trenches the first wounded were brought in by the stretcher bearers from the line organizations. Meantime our litter squads had known of the contemplated raid, so they were ready to receive the wounded and litter them on back to Brun. The raid took place directly in front of Vialet. From there to Brun it was nearly five kilometres, and uphill. Litter bearing is strenuous work at best, but it is doubly so when performed in the dark, and over strange, up-hill trails. There were in all nineteen patients to carry that night. The first patient, carried by Joe Barnes, Vesper, Toohey and John Crowley, was a Boche. The job lasted nearly all night, and it was getting daylight when the last wounded man reached Larchey next morning. The work of the infantry had lasted not quite a half hour.

Nearly a week later the Germans attempted a raid early one morning, but it was easily repulsed. The work of our detachment during the remainder of the month consisted mostly of carrying occasional patients, and making the climbs back and forth to meals. In some cases this was no small task. Frequently a litter squad would have to go a quarter of a mile or more after rations, and the trails were steep and narrow. Then there were occasional bombardments by the Germans, and the first shell was enough to set everyone going for a dugout. During one bombardment a large shell exploded close to a dugout occupied by three of our men, and caved it in. Covington was one of the three men, and the event was more or less immortalized by his song, a parody on "When you wore a tulip, and I wore a big red rose":

 
"I was sleeping in a dugout right up close to the front line,
Now I was feeling fine, when those Dutch they issued mine;
They shot some high explosives right in my dugout door,
And since that time my dugout is no more.
I grabbed my full equipment then and started back to town,
For those dirty kraut eaters had torn my play house down.
 

Chorus

 
When they blew up my dugout, my most substantial dugout,
Then I got right on my toes;
And when that shrapnel busted, I was thoroughly disgusted
And the speed I made, no one knows.
When I started running, my feet had a yearning
To go from where the shrapnel flows;
So when he blew up my dugout, I got my clothes and tore out,
The reason – the Lord only knows."
 

On another night, when Lt. Vardon and Sergeants Knight and Childs were racing for a dugout, Lt. Vardon ran past the entrance. The glare cast by a nearby shell explosion lighted up the dugout and, doubling back, Lt. Vardon beat Childs into it. A man casts dignity aside and sprints when shells begin dropping around him.

At Mittlach there were no raids in the proper sense of the term. No detachment of the infantry ever went over the top there. But there were numerous casualties among our troops, due to the activity of German snipers and to accidents. Then, too, the German artillery had such an open sweep at the town of Mittlach and the valley below it, that several Americans were either killed or wounded by shrapnel. In fact, the very evening that our main detachment arrived in Mittlach, a corporal of the 137th Infantry was killed by a shell as he stood in the street reading a letter. This was the first casualty in the regiment, so the chaplain decided to give the man a military funeral, firing squad and all. He made the funeral arrangements over the telephone and set the time for the funeral at 9 o'clock the next evening. The time for the funeral came and the procession was just leaving the Alpine Ambulance when the German artillery again began shelling the town. There were, by actual count, just twenty-two men in the street when the first three-inch shell came whining towards the town. It took one of those shells about six seconds to reach Mittlach after it could first be heard, and when the first one exploded nearby, half of those twenty-two men had already scrambled into the door of the nearest dugout. And it was only an average size door at that. This was the first real shelling most of the twenty-two men had experienced, yet they took to cover as if they were used to doing it. On another occasion a sudden bombardment caught Lt. Speck and Lt. Martin unawares. A three-inch shrapnel ushered them around a corner and into a dugout in record time – the one ahead trying to keep ahead, and the one behind, trying his best to get ahead.

The ruined town of Metzeral was the foremost point occupied by any of our litter squads at Mittlach. It was in the main valley to the south and east of Mittlach. The American trenches ran zig-zag through the town – along tumble-down walls, into old cellars and basements, through neglected gardens, and around the corner of the ruined church itself. One ducked instinctively as he passed some of the low places in the walls, for the German trenches were visible a few hundred yards away on the eastern slope of the valley.

The ambulance work at Mittlach and Larchey was done partly by the mule ambulances of Ambulance Company 140 and partly by the Fords of the S. S. U. outfit. From the various advance aid stations, the patients were transported by ambulance to a relay station called Treh, situated about five kilos back of Larchey. Lt. Hancock, of Ambulance Company 137 was in charge at Treh, having two motor and two mule drawn ambulances ready to receive and transport the patients back to the various Field Hospitals, which were located at Kruth and neighboring towns, well out of range of the German guns.

On the whole, the time spent in the Wesserling sector was a period of training for our company, and in fact for the whole Sanitary Train. We learned something about maps and trails, and especially that trails on maps and trails on mountain sides are two very different things. We learned also to respect our gas masks and helmets. They became our constant companions. Indeed, the sight of school children six and eight years old going through gas mask drill in the streets of Mittlach was enough to make anyone think about his gas mask. All the civilians there carried masks as they went about their daily work. We learned too, the value of camouflage along the sides of roads, and also the wisdom of keeping behind it. The litter bearers learned to handle patients in all sorts of tight places, and they did their work creditably. We saw a little example of German propaganda, also. On June 30th the Boche sent small balloons over our lines, and to the balloons they attached cards bearing the following message on both sides:

"Soldiers of the U. S. A

As we hear from your comrades seized by us, your officers say that we kill prisoners of war or do them some other harm.

Don't be such Greenhorns!

How can you smart Americans believe such a silly thing?"

Needless to say, this sort of propaganda made no impression on the American troops.

We spent nearly a month in the Wesserling sector. At the end of that time, Ambulance Company 137 relieved us at Larchey, and Ambulance Company 140 at Mittlach. We were glad to move back across the boundary line into France and settle in the sleepy little village of Ventron, where we could hang up our gas masks and helmets, and almost forget there was a war.