| Chapter 1 |
The Fight of the Lost Battalion Machine guns were barking in the dark forest on all sides, lending their echoing sounds to Argonne's forest hills! All around us the gaunt, grey sky was dense with smoke, while hanging mists grew thick beneath the forest's boughs. Nearer and nearer came the sound of the sharp cracks of the Boche sniper's rifles sending their thrills through our very bones! There was no time to lose and we were soon busy filling sandbags and piling them up in a large square to form a barricade. I had just unbuckled my belt from my pack when our boys on the barricade opened fire! I dropped on my knees with my "30-30" and emptied it as fast as I could! Again and again bullets hummed and whizzed around my head. I saw my partner drop, getting it in the forehead, while another turned over moaning with blood pouring from above his heart. I didn't know where I was going to get mine! I lay flat on the ground, using a Stoke's Mortar base-plate for protection. All around the automatics were cracking and popping as fast as they could blaze away. To add to the terror and discomfort of the situation, German bullets were clipping the leaves and branches of the forest trees, while shells, through dense clouds of smoke and gas burst all around us. I lived an age in ten minutes and began to have a sickly, nervous feeling of uneasiness whether I would ever live through all of this hell! There are moments of grave anxiety requiring nerves of steel when our soldierly qualities of brave endurance are put to their utmost test. These moments were ours. Here, lost in the depth of Argonne's darkest forest, cut off entirely from our Division and surrounded by a force of Huns, I, being a Catholic with deep respect for the Blessed Mother of God and with implicit trust in Her power, called upon Her for protection. Like Tennyson's version: "More things are wrought by prayers than the world dreams of" - is my firm conviction that it was "She" who watched over me through it all. The firing on both sides continued at intervals, the Huns in between times "putting over gas", forcing gas adjustments that prevented our watch from charge attacks. Taking refuge in shell holes, our "30-30s" were kept pointed over the top. All through the night the flashing and flaring of guns continued amid display of crimson bayonets that laid low the foe. Thrice did I have a close call with those bullets whizzing by my helmet. Exhausted, hungry and thirsty, we kept up the fight for four days and nights, without rest or food and drinking only seeping water from shell holes to quench our feverish thirst. Our incessant efforts to endure fatigue and hunger were on the wane. All hopes of getting help seemed in vain. Tired in mind and body and with a strain on heart and nerve, we continued to fell the Hun! We sent out three runners on the third day. None of them ever returned. Doomed to either surrender or fight to a bitter end was ours! But no man faltered - none hesitated - and when challenged by our foe we shouted: "Fight it out to the last man." Adding to the anguish, our own artillery began to put over a "Creeping Barrage," advancing directly towards us - almost freezing the very blood in our veins. We knew what it meant; per- haps in a little while there would be a few of us, if any, left to tell the tale. We did not know what to do. To advance meant running into the German lines; to retreat was to go into that infernal mass of flying steel - the barrage. Boche aeroplanes circling and flying overhead made it impossible to send up signals of flares or rockets. We lying flat in our shell holes, slowly and steadily the hellish barrage was creeping nearer and nearer, while one after another the giant shells were falling through clouds of smoke, crushing and tearing up trees and rocks. It all seemed to spell but the one word - Death, and we had to face it like men! Suddenly overhead appeared an aeroplane. It was headed directly for us and we could discern an allied insignia. Like a flash we signalled with a flare and instantly from the plane two golden stars shot out - the signal we were located. It turned around and was gone in a minute and scarcely had we lost sight of the machine, when, lo, the barrage was shifted and those giant shells which in a few moments would have been bursting on us, were now exploding to our right. It's a wonderful feeling, when a man is meeting death face to face on all sides and is suddenly saved by what is almost a miracle! This happened on the fourth day, and at two o'clock our relief came and we were soon given our ration of a bit of bread and salmon, which, to us, seemed a grand feast after having gone four days and nights without food or sleep. How any of us came out of this hell I don't know, for we had gone through about all that a human being could possibly stand. Back through mud and water, over seas of shell craters, across hills and swamps, we hiked. All along the way, here and there, strewed bodies of our dead heroes, all stiff and smeared with blood! Other loathsome sights were bodies of German officers, with their heads cut off entirely from their bodies and lying upward in a decomposed condition. As we passed a truck, I begged a soldier in it to give me just anything to eat. , He pulled out a piece of dry bread which I ate like a starved dog and filling my pockets with the remaining, crumbs. We soon halted on a hillside and were told to rest up a day. Too tired to unroll my pack, I sank to the ground, falling fast asleep. The next morning five of the men and myself were formed into an automatic rifle squad and given colts, revolvers and automatics in place of our 30-30s. Our platoon was at once called out to move and join another bunch of men and carry Stoke's mortar bombs up to the front lines for a barrage which was to be put over when the new "drive" started on the Verdun front, where again, twice I came near being "bumped" off by the explosion of a shell a few yards from where I stood. |