HISTORY OF THE 305TH INFANTRY

FOREWORD

IT all began on the banks of the Meuse River. No sooner had a colonel of French infantry approached one of our junior officers on November 12th, saying, "Tell your commanding officer that he can pull his regiment out any time he wants to," than a couple of the Old Timers found themselves of the opinion that an account should be written of our experiences. As a result, about the first of January, Colonel Sheldon decreed that one officer, to be designated as Historian, should not be compelled to spend all his time driving imaginary machine gun nests out of the wooded hills bordering upon Chaumont.

The work of writing A History of the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry thus commenced, gaining headway by almost imperceptible degrees, for the Historian was rendered practically hors de combat by the consciousness of his small degree of new-found, unprecedented freedom, incapable of sane, consecutive effort. Nevertheless, three photographic teams were sent back over all the fighting ground, obtaining almost a thousand pictures from which two hundred have been selected for publication, and many men of the Regiment were persuaded to write of their adventures. Be it said that some made startling disclosures to which propriety and practice deny the light of print. Much of it is, however, in the of t-times inelegant but graphic language of the American Doughboy, rough of speech but ever kind of heart and keen. If one or another company is quoted too frequently in the story it is simply because that scribe, squatting upon the floor of his billet, bending low in the flickering candlelight over a piece of Y. M. C. A. paper and a stubby pencil, succeeded better than his fellows in expressing the American soldier as he is. His observations and experiences are but typical of all the others. The thought arises at this point that too much space may have been devoted to the rifle-men-that not enough has been said of the services of supply, of the runners, of the signal men and linemen, braving unspeakable dangers to perfect and maintain the "nerves" of the Regiment. Of the Auxiliary-we cannot say enough.

It was early a question, in the minds of those displaying the greatest determination that there be a permanent regimental record, whether this book should be so prepared as only to thrill posterity with a recital of glorious deeds, or so constructed as to reveal the man in the ranks as he really is. Should it be an idealistic or realistic representation? Should it assume the guise of a glorified Operations Report, setting everything down in painstaking chronological order? Should it be a series of Company Histories, or Battalion Histories or one big Regimental Story?

A story it is, rather than a history. We do not go " over the top " in every chapter, waving the Flag and shouting, " Forward! " as the posters depict. We spend a lot of time growling and grumbling with the other boys; we try to show the mud on his shoes, the humor that never deserted him even in the very blackest moments; we picture him with a suggestion of budding horns, instead of Cupid-wings-and have a lot of fun living over again with him the crowded hours of the last two years.

When Captain Kenderdine was asked to prepare a roster of officers, past and present, he obligingly said, " Sure," expecting to be detained half an hour. Four weeks later he came up for air. You can therefore guess, without much difficulty, how stupendous was the task of Sergeant James J. White who assembled the roster of enlisted personnel, with statistics pertaining to seven thousand men! To Captain Garner goes the credit for the preparation of the maps, and to Captain Crosby-well, the book would not have been a true account of the Three Hundred and Fifth without his cover and his inimitable sketches.

Of sage conclusion as to war, prohibition, Prussianism and politics there is none. Only this: that had there been such a thing as universal service, we might have got over sooner and back earlier. Some of our other ideas have changed a whole lot. No longer shall we sob if the bed seems short. No longer shall we scoff at eating warmed-overs. After twelve months of canned corned beef and hardtack the old hash will seem like a political banquet. When we think of chlorinated water, cold coffee will be as welcome to us as cream to a cat. In short, we think that members of the Three Hundred and Fifth will be a whole lot easier to live with, and that America is the only real place in which really to live.

F. B. T.

CHAPTER 1

AT CAMP UPTON

FORTY years hence, when little John clambers upon your knee with a "Grandpa, tell me a soldier story," you will not have to disappoint the child. If your memory has not survived the strain, if you still suffer from shell shock, you can at least look in the book for inspiration. The Regimental Story will remind you of all the stories it fails to record. On the other hand, if your imagination is too fruitful, it will serve as a check upon the irresistible tendency to tell a whopper. By all means, keep the child quiet; his mother will thank you; but at the same time fill him with a wholesome respect for the glory of American Arms, and of the Three Hundred and Fifth. Yet be careful! Get these few essential facts straight, or the boy will come back at you with embarrassing questions as soon as he is old enough to read the book for himself.

However, the main purpose of this story is to record the fun and the facts as we found them. To be sure, we often had to manufacture the fun, though really, a laugh could be found in almost any situation, however tense, however hopeless and disagreeable. You laughed your way through stump pulling, kitchen police, through the endless drilling-, through the submarine zone, through marmalade and tea; through shell fire on the Vesle, through machine-gun fire in the Argonne; through the five months following the armistice-the hardest battle of the war. Your persistent good humor went a long way toward beating the Hun.

Come back to Upton with us then; come over to France. Get into the old ramshackle billets again where you argued for standing room with the cows and chickens. Step down into the trenches once more; roll around in the muddy old funk holes. Get real muddy! Sleep on the floor of a cold hommes et chevaux parlor car. Sample the cold corned willie. See if the canned goldfish is any less delicious than it used to be. Growl and grumble as you used to and then-laugh, as you used to.

Begin your story by telling how you and a host of other civilians, in the summer of 1917, knowing nothing of military life and caring less, were called upon by the United States to show the world, Germany in particular, that there are certain outrages we cannot stand for; how your local board instructed you to report on such-and-such a day, how the bands and the banners and the tears convinced you that the trenches were only a week or two away at most; how you landed at Camp Upton near Yaphank, Long Island, and felt your heart sink. On that memorable day, you probably experienced no patriotic thrill. You and your trainload of comrades, mostly in old clothes, with little handbags or bundles containing the things your mother thought necessary to military life, a mob of boys of all the nationalities and creeds that go to make up the cosmopolitan city of New York; who couldn't keep step, of course; who could scarcely align themselves in a " column of two's "-you couldn't have licked Germany on that afternoon! Officers and men who that day saw you struggle toward the barracks often recalled the picture, ten months later, when they saw you filing silently through the communicating trenches in the pitchy darkness, single file, five paces apart, every man keeping contact, tried, reliable, dependable. What a change- eh?

"It was a Wednesday afternoon, at three P. M.," writes a scribe from F Company, "and raining like mad when our train pulled into a place called Camp Upton. They had a band of music at the station playing the Star Spangled Banner, to get us to feel like fighting. It did-the way they played it. A few roughnecks from the regulars received us. The Sergeant gave a command: 'Column of two's. Forward, MARCH!' But we bums stood like a bunch of dopes, for we didn't know what 'a column of two's meant. All the way to the barracks, the one-month veterans were saying: 'Wait till you get the needle."'

Irvin Cobb, in the Saturday Evening Post, said: "I saw them when they first landed at Camp Upton, furtive, frightened, slow-footed, slack-shouldered, underfed, apprehensive-a huddle of unhappy aliens, speaking in alien tongues, and knowing little of the cause for which they must fight, and possibly caring less. I saw them again three months later, when the snow of the dreadful winter of 1917-1918 was piling high about their wooden barracks down there on wind-swept Long Island. The stoop was beginning to come out of their spines, the shamble out of their gait. They had learned to hold their heads up; had learned to look every man in the eye and tell him to go elsewhere, with a capital H. They knew now that discipline was not punishment, and that the salute was not a mark of servility, but an evidence of mutual self-respect between officer and man. They wore their uniforms with pride. The flag meant something to them and the war meant something to them. Three short, hard months of training had transformed them from a rabble into soldier stuff; from a street mob into the makings of an army; from strangers into Americans. After nine months I have seen them once more in France. For swagger, for snap, for smartness in the drill, for cockiness in the billet, for good-humor on the march, and for dash and spunk and deviltry in the fighting into which just lately they have been sent, our Army can show no better and no more gallant warriors than the lads who mainly make up the rank and file of this particular division."

The Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry was a part of that 77th Division. Just when was the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry born? Some will say that the regiment began when the 77th Division was drawn up on paper and the words "Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry" written down for the first time. Others will maintain that it began with a handful of reserve officers, fresh from the First Plattsburg Training Camp, who boarded the train for Yaphank on August 29, 1917, who groped their way among a myriad of sweating workmen, teams, wagons, motor trucks, jitneys, lumber piles, stables, shanties; over fresh broken roads, felled trees, stumps, brush and sticky mud; who somehow found a hill upon which sat an unpainted shack and some vague personage who directed them to Barrack J, No. 21; who bought iron cots from colored workmen not unwilling to pick up an illegitimate penny on the side; who shivered for want of blankets and baggage, washed at the community spigot, got a dose of lead poisoning and swore off on water for many weeks; who presently found their names dangling from a sort of family tree with Colonel William R. Smedberg's name away up at the top, followed by Lieut.-Colonel James C. (Jim Crow) Rhea's; a little further down, the majors of the First, Second and Third Battalions, respectively-Walter W. Metcalf, Charles W. Dall, Harold C. Woodward; and spreading below them on the lower branches, each little cluster of company officers. While much of the success of the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry can be attributed to the Regular Army "idea," and to the high-minded principles and ability of Colonel Smedberg (a situation which found a parallel in many another regiment of the National Army), a good deal of credit can be given, with all fairness, to the Reserve Officers, business men, college men, volunteers-all interested, all enthusiastic. " When I gave an order," said Colonel Smedberg, "I knew that it would be well carried out."

One morning they were roused as usual by the distant barrage of count-less hammers pounding away across the horizon, to find that the Rookies were due. Seemingly out of nothing, a city of barracks like a boomtown in the mining regions had arisen down in the "R " section to receive them, and thither journeyed each little family of company officers. What a scramble ensued for cots and bed-sacks and straw, for mess kits and blankets and civilian cooks, for stoves, fuel, ice-boxes and rations!

And this is where most of you will doubtless say the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry had its beginning.

"To half-finished barracks in a half-cleared forest, by the chances of the draft and the accidents of the Adjutant General's Department, there had come a handful of soldiers by profession, some scores of men who for a few weeks bad studied the military, art, and nearly four thousand young citizens, ignorant of war, some eager, some reluctant, all unready for what they then considered hardship and restraint. Drill was to deal with their muscles; discipline, to bring incessant reminders of duty. They little knew how soon this great body would begin to have a military semblance, aware of its ordered strength and conscious of a collec-tive purpose. Soon would both officers and men grow proud of themselves and of each other; the great traditions of soldiership would have laid hold of them."

What really laid hold of them without a moment's delay, was a Regular Army Sergeant who ordered them into the bath-house, QUICK.

" Oh, but I've had a bath."

"I don't care what you did last year; you're in the Army now."

"But I took one this afternoon."

"Hard luck; you've got to take another and be checked."

Perhaps the water wasn't hot enough for those addicted to bathing-, more than likely it was ice-cold. The artful dodgers were hauled out of bed by the strong-arm squad for their first encounter with disciplinary action -whisk brooms and floor brushes vigorously applied by the First Sergeant's earlier and bitter victims.

"When do we eat?"

Almost the first words uttered by the new recruit. Expressive of the soldier's chief concern-his stomach. Heard later on the march, in battle, in billet; later still the doughboy's victorious greeting to the armistice. Certainly, the first words spoken at Camp Upton. He ate, and ate well, astonished to find so few beans, popularly rumored as the basis of army fare. To be sure, he was served " a thousand on a plate" very early in the game. However much he despised them then, he would later have given his overcoat for a single plate of those he earlier spurned.

And having eaten, he stood around that first evening, by the large bonfire kindled just outside the kitchen door, speculating as to his luck, his fate, telling his new-found comrades just what he thought of everything, particularly of his new officers. He had them sized up. He sang a bit. Heads bent close together as nasal agonies rent the night air. The bank clerk was suddenly surprised to find his arm wrapped affectionately around the motor-man's shoulders. The street cleaner hooked up with the little pants-presser. Months later, they dug a funk hole together on the Aisne-, and the street cleaner felt mighty sad when his buddy, the little pants-presser, "went west."

"Lights out! Get to bed!"

But not to sleep. Those wild Irishmen of F Company did not seem to care a bit if the occupant were still on the bed as it flew downstairs. Poor old Simon, already in a fair way to establish himself as the A Company barber, knew nothing of camouflage, failed utterly to detect in time the tricky genius of his new comrades, fell to the floor with a crash, all doubled up like a jack-knife in his folding cot, and reported to the orderly room that McGowan and his bunkies were a "geng uff loifers." Thus ended, as in a score of barracks, a perfect day.

The same tough army sergeant, who greeted you at the train, threw you into the bath and ordered you to bed, ordered you out. This was a bit too soon to curse the buglers. There weren't any. It was after hearing Reveille blown a countless number of times that you dreamed of the happy days to come, back in civil life, when, disgustingly wealthy, you could hire a bugler of your own, throw a brick at him, roll over and sleep as long as you darn pleased. You rose and made your own bed; a new experience, waving three blankets and a bed-sack into place. Thank Heaven, there were no sheets and pillows to battle with!

Sour faces at breakfast. Then for a roll call, and off to the Infirmary for an examination. Here's where one might have seen at first, some great stalling. "I can't hear." "I can't see out of this left eye." "I've got flat feet." All the excuses in the world; but always the same answer, " You'll do." Then for the needle. You have seen them keel over before it ever touched their arms. And some of them played faint. But the supposed terrible after-effects of the Typhoid Prophylaxis always got you twenty-four hours off; so, 'twas almost worth it. And five needles worth made you a veteran.

The qualification cards which showed a man's entire pedigree and which took so many hours to make out also revealed a surprising assortment of nationalities, whose names ran the gamut of the alphabet, backward and forward. It is said that a lieutenant, calling the roll of his company, happened to sneeze. Four men answered: "Here!" Side by side, on the H Company roster, perched a Parrot and a Peacock. Nearby, towering well above their fellows, stood "Great" Scott and "So" Long. There was a Mason, a Brewer and a Singer; a Jewel and a Penny. One of the first corporals to be turned out was called Trainer. Bosch proved himself a good patriot despite his name. Fries made an excellent cook. But how appro-priate, that Piper should have become a bugler!

Is there any company commander who didn't complain that all the qualification cards ever did for him was to betray the presence within his flock of a prize mechanic, chauffeur, plumber or typist? And wasn't it a fact that every man thought himself either skilled in the care and handling of horses, or a motor cyclist-having, no doubt, the vision of riding through the war as a messenger or a general's chauffeur? Only by the basest sort of deception could the captains, wild-eyed from an excess of paper work, retain any sort of clerical assistance. No one but an officer can appreciate the trials and tribulations of those early days: the first morning reports, with Recruits entered in red, Assignments in black, the ration figures, plus and minus, always wrong, the ever-changing rosters, the receipts demanded and given for all the men and equipment passing back and forth from one unit to another.

Well, the cards were a lovely color, and beautifully theoretical; and they did provide some amusement. Questioned as to his age, a man answered, "Twenty-seven." When asked when he would be twenty-eight, be scratched his head, utterly baffled, and ventured: "Either May or December." A private was asked if, within his military experience, he had attended any schools. "Yes," he replied, "the School of the Squad and the School of the Soldier. "

It was true that even before any of these pertinent facts concerning your history were known, you were told to spit out that gum, stood up in line, heels together, stomachs in, heads back-well, see paragraph 51 of the I. D. R. That's the way you couldn't stand, then. Thus began the elaborate and painful process of teacbing the difference between the right foot and the left foot; between the muzzle and the butt of the rifle; between a general and a private. Now and then, the Two Silver Bars would crawl out from beneath a stack of papers, forms and records and emerge from the sanctity of the Orderly Room to see how the work was progressing. All this preliminary work was of course up to the lieutenants, many of whom without doubt wondered, when they first called their little bunch of beginners to attention, whether or not the order would be promptly obeyed. Thank Heaven, it was. One must not forget ., while trying to analyze the success of the National Army, that the men were ready, willing and ambitious to become good soldiers. General Alexander, after assuming command of the 77th Division, learned to feel that his men would and could do anything expected of them. It was the willing spirit, which carried them through.

The riot, which greeted the first weekend passes proved that a system was necessary-discipline all the way into New York; discipline all the way back. Passes kept the men alive and brought a rich harvest to the " news butchers " of the Long Island Railroad, though the labor of issuing them and issuing them fairly almost killed off the lieuten-ants. At first, only those with army uniforms could go-oh yes, white collars and all. Finally, the uniforms did come. Hats would insist upon covering only the back of the head, or else flopping down around the ears; despite the careful measuring, sleeves were too long, necks too big, leggings, size five, wrapped loosely about a number three leg, shoes a full inch too long, as the lieutenant had insisted upon giving them to you, the overcoat often looking like a bath robe. But with the uniform came a bit of swagger, a little thrill of pride, plenty of work for the new company tailor and passes.

Mindful of the first week's experience, most any captain might have been heard addressing his tribe on Monday morning: "I want no pathetic telegrams to come pouring in on me this Friday. I don't care to hear that Solomon Levinsky has to be present Saturday morning, at the winding up of his pants business. Warn your grandmothers, aged aunts, sisters, brothers and cousins not to celebrate their marriages or burials on Saturday. Instruct all relatives knocking at death's door to wait in the vestibule until your turn for pass comes round."

It was soon noised about that all Jews would be permitted to go to the city for the celebration of Yom Kippur. A knock was heard at a certain orderly room door. In the gloomy hallway stood a big, strapping fellow who made known his desire for a pass. "You want to go in for Yom Kippur?"

"Yiss, sorr."

" What's your name?"

"Patrick Shea."

Good old Pat - one of the best fighting Irishmen that ever struggled through the Argonne with his back-breaking burden, a Hotchkiss machine gun. Nearly everybody in the Regiment knew Pat Shea, of the Machine Gun Company, and felt mighty bitter when be lost his life at the Meuse, in the last few minutes of the war

It was after explaining different things to a bunch of recruits that an officer gave the sudden command, "Right Face!" The execution was far from perfect.

"What's the matter with that man? I said, "Right Face!" not Left Face."'

"Me no spigk English."

About an hour later, it being Friday, the officer could have sworn that in response to his announcement concerning passes the same man answered: Sure, I want a pass tomorrow."

But there were compensations for your being denied a pass. "You new that if you didn't get one, you would at least get a day off, and one of 'Dutch' Richert's juicy steaks," to quote from the reminiscences of F Company. "After inspection, there was plenty of fun in the old mess hall, 'Ed' Hoffman beating the box, the pool sharks playing 'Drop Dead' and old 'Dutch' behind his counter, all dressed in white like an Astorbilt chef, waving succulent beef-steak under the noses of the guys who had to go out on the morning train and who wouldn't get any. We lived high, there in camp, over the weekends. So many of the boys going into the city made a big ration saving, and the money went into the company fund for chicken and ice cream and such things. And then, on Sunday, you'd meet your father, or your mother, or your sweetie at the eleven-thirty train. Not so bad, any way you look at it."

After parading around town of a Saturday with a new uniform on, it was pretty tough going back to camp on Sunday night, or on the Three A. M. "Owl," landing just in time for Reveille. No one was in any condition to drill on Monday, and the boys would stall around the Top Kicker for a while, looking for a detail that would keep them from drill. In those days, it was stump pulling which served as the hardening details; sometimes the whole battalion would turn out in a body.

In fact, our first offensive was under the command of Major Metcalf over a No-Man's-Land of Long Island brush and trees. One B Company veteran writes: "Armed with pick-mattocks, axes and brush cutters, the company marched daily to the task and all day long fought the foe with might and main. Captain Purcell would go among his men, keeping up their morale, showing them personally how to use the axe. Some of his exhibitions were very-er, very. 'The will to use the bush-hook,' we'd cry, and go to it. After two months of such work, thin men increased unbelievably and stout men lost their excess weight; best of all, the jungle became a fine parade ground. Then came the work of clearing for the rifle range; but that was easier, for every organization in the Division took over a sector."

By the middle of November, things had settled down and were running smoothly, everyone feeling fairly well experienced, and believing that the trenches were not very far off. Still, the manual of arms, executed at first with the ancient and honorable Krag-Jorgensens, later with the new Winchesters, was rather rough in spots. In the Second Battalion, it even hap-pened that the officers were stood up publicly by Major Dall for drill in the art of criticism - but the appreciative mob which collected failed to appreciate that qualifying fact, and could not disguise its enjoyment of something which appeared to be the disciplining of their officers. The first schools for the training of non-commissioned officers had turned out some excellent men, with a budding taste for authority. Yet the officers have never ceased to regret the theory of the Division Commander who forbade the placing of any real responsibilities upon the shoulders of our non-coms. Far better it would have been at camp and throughout all our subsequent experience, if it had not always been required that an officer be present, whether at the fairly simple task of filling a bedsack, or at an inconsequential gathering of any sort.

It was all very much like going to school again. For some-for many, rather, there was the English school; much of our soldier material couldn't even speak the language. Imagine the difficulties of teaching the rudiments of military art to men, however willing, who couldn't understand; officers have had some times to get right down on their hands and knees to show by actual physical persuasion how to "advance and plant the left foot."

Imagine, too, the difficulties of teaching the open order as prescribed in the I. D. R., and as advocated by the foreign instructors in all its diverse ramifications. Imagine trying to teach the methods of patrolling, or posting an outguard. After discoursing for three long hours, a lieutenant was finally satisfied that every man in his platoon had a passable idea of an outpost, outguard, picket, etc. Looking over his men, he asked the company barber: "What is a picket?" The young man spoke right up, thoroughly sure of his ground, "Oh, yess, vat iss a picket? A picket iss a board mit sticks tacked on it."

A period of intensive training brought instructors from overseas, shortly after Christmas. Having read endlessly of the Western Front and filled with the glamour of the trenches, we were thrilled to see and hear the men who had been there. Captain Nicot, charming personally, interesting in his lectures on bombs, but far more interesting when recounting far into the night his vivid, intimate tales of life in the trenches; the diminutive Lieutenant Geismar holding forth in broken English upon the intricacies of the F rench Chauchat

auto-rifle-the "Ford Rifle" or "jitney Gun" as the men called it-pointing out ze movabble an ze fixed parts: "An' now, ze barrell catch, she get coughed. Coughed! Do you not know what I say? C-a-u-g-h-t! Coughed!

And Lieutenant Poire too-Henri Poire, who went every step of the way with the Three Hundred and Fifth. At first, we thought of him as the champion blackboard artist of the world. He could erect and erase more and dustier battlefields than perhaps any other man living. Many an afternoon the great Y. M. C. A. hall on Eighth Street was jammed to overflowing with snoring, appreciative officers. They appreciated the rest. "I love these lectures by dear old Poir6, " one of them was heard to remark at the hour of dismissal. " If I weren't required to be here, I'd be ordered out on something tremendously arduous, and then I'd never get any sleep at all."

"Very interesting and helpful talk we've had tonight from Lieutenant Poir6 of the French Army," General Wittenmyer would say. "But you'll find it all set down very clearly in your little blue book, the Platoon Commander's Manual."

For the officers, the first blood-curdling thrills of the bayonet schools had been almost exhausted at Plattsburg. Their imaginations were stirred anew, however, by the vigor and originality of the burly British Sergeant-Major Covington, fresh from the training grounds of France. "In, out, on guard!" became the popular catch-phrase, though scarcely more often heard than "Around me MOVE!" and "Carry On." It was here that Lieutenant "Jim" Loughborough experienced a revelation, in which be saw himself as a future Master of the Bayonet, spearing eight Germans single-handed, in mortal combat, on the banks of the Vesle.

The authorities apparently thought we might have to do a little wrestling with the Boche, so they opened up a course in jiu-jitsu. Peculiar methods of choking and resuscitation seemed to be the Jap's chief stock in trade. It was Lieutenant " Phil " Gray who first submitted to the experience of being " put out cold," just to know how it seemed; whereupon many others bad the courage to follow suit.

A class of Jiu Jitsu.

"Terrible Tony" Loughborough, as the lieutenant was called by the Signal Platoon, dropped in one afternoon to watch Colonel Smedberg and Lieut.-Colonel Rhea pairing off. Mr. Allen Smith, the instructor, inquired if the lieutenant would like to join in. Assenting, he was matched against "Moocher" Rosenquest, private, who, for once in his life, displayed ambition -a strong desire to strangle the "loot." To quote the Headquarters Company Historian, "he pressed and squeezed in forty different ways, not knowing that he had the lieutenant nearly dead of suffocation. How was he to know? There was no clapping of the victim's hands-token of surrender. Sergeant "Dan"Bunny, of "Bunny's Trained Fleas," one of Loughborough's Intelligence squad, maliciously gave his buddy,- Rosenquest, the high sign to press still harder, thoroughly enjoying the massacre of his chief. 'My God, man!' exclaimed Smith, happening along, 'do you wish to kill the lieutenant? Let him go!' And then, after vigorous denunciation, 'Quite correct, Lieutenant, you failed to clap your hands.' Unfortunately, no one had ever informed him of the distress signal."

Nor to be forgotten are the old Sniping, Observation and Scouting courses in the "German" trenches out beyond the Depot Brigade; nor the three weeks' engineering course during the most brutal weather of Long Island's most brutal winter-when digging a practice trench with anything less sharp than an axe was impossible, when the boring of holes in the frozen ground for the construction of gabions, fascines and hurdles took hours to accomplish, particularly when someone of the class had the foresight to construct a huge bonfire.

Many a day was spent indoors on account of the cold, the thermometer at times venturing to twenty below zero. The wind whistled through the chinks of the draughty barracks; the cannon stoves waxed red hot; the thud of rifle butts on the mess hall floor resounded early and late. There was little

else to do-until evening. New York never knew what really good times we had then; thought us abused and discontented, perhaps. When winter had put an end to baseball and football, the Y. M. C. A. huts, the K. C. club rooms and halls were crowded, always populous with the eternal letter writers, the book worms or the roistering mob eagerly supporting their company show, a boxing contest, or a basketball game. Movies, too, and later a Liberty Theatre with genuine New York attractions. Or wafted over the " campus " on the dusty, gusty, night breeze might be heard the nasal whine of a straining quartette:

I took out ten thousand, Insurance;

For bonds I gave fifteen bucks more;

To wifey and mother

I 'lotted another

Ten dollars, and then furthermore

I ran up big bills at the Laundry,

And finally pay day was there.

I went up for my dough, But the answer was "NO!

You've already drawn more than your share."

-or perhaps the roar of a hundred voices rending "Robbie's" war song limb from limb:

At our hike and drill,

To work with all our will,

And find it fun to take a gun

And "One, Two, Three, Four."

Put in every step,

All our punch and pep,

So we'll be one to hit the Hun

An awful wallop! With English and with French,

We'll leap from out our trench,

'Twill be to see Democracy survive;

And we'll open up a gap -Push the Kaiser off the map,

When the Three-0-Five begins its drive.

Another favorite:

There's only one side that can win-

That's the Allies' side,

of course, And 'tis because our Uncle Sam

Has made himself the boss. His nephews, who will do the job

Are the boys of the Infantry.

So, let's all strive

To make Three-O-Five

Bring home the Victory.

The idea, of course, was that we'd go over the top a'singing. "A singing army is a winning army," roared the long-haired leader from the War Camp Community to the entire Division which was subjected in groups to his tutelage, the only recollection of which is "Keep your head down, Allemand, and its numerous parodies.

But anon, the lights in a fleet of brilliant barracks would wink out, dimmed by the unpopular bugler, and calm would reign, punctuated only by the steady tread of a nearby sentry walking post. How he delighted to halt the belated pedestrian, particularly the officers returning late to quarters after their midnight inspection of barracks to see that all bunks were thoroughly partitioned off, as prescribed, by the hanging shelter-halves, and that the rows and rows of snoring men were following instructions, really sleeping " head to foot.

An officer was thus one night halted by an inexperienced sentry.

"Halt! Who is there?"

"Officer of the Camp."

"Halt! Who is there?"

"Officer of the Camp."

"H-halt. Who the Devil are you, anyhow?"

"OFFICER OF THE CAMP."

"Then get the hell out o' here, quick; my orders is to challenge three times and then shoot!"

February brought no let-up in the disagreeable weather, which greeted still another quota of recruits, entirely new to the game, lorded over by the remaining old-timers, stuck with the needle, outfitted and launched upon the now familiar course of rudimentary training. In November, December, February, and again in March, each company had been sifted down to a mere hundred or so - all over again, the company commander would have to organize his unit, re-size and redistribute his men in order to balance the platoons' start in once more upon the rudiments of drill, spend long days at the rifle range teaching -the infant mind to shoot. For it seemed that we might become a depot division; time after time, our ranks were depleted in order to bring another unit up to combat strength. In those days, the mere receipt of a few blue barrack bags, not then an article of general equipment, would be the signal for deep agitation within the Regiment, it being popularly supposed that the men who had fallen into disfavor would be sent to Atlanta., Georgia, or, as it seemed in our eyes, to some other undesirable camp. That was not always the reason for their going; it was a matter of necessity. Popularly sung to the tune of "Marching through Georgia" was the parody, "Look out, look out! You'll get the bag of blue."

But along with February's blustering weather came the rumor that the Division would really not become a depot; that it would really go, soon. More than rumor, it proved to be. General Johnson, who took command while General Bell was abroad, gathered the officers together and announced that he had reported the Division ready!

Ready! It was time that New York should see what a fine body of troops she bad sent down to the Long Island camp. On December ninth, eight thousand people had witnessed two performances at the Hippodrome of "A Day at Camp Upton," prepared by Lieutenant James E. Schuyler and enacted by two hundred and eighty selected doughboys. New York was en-thusiastic enough, and yielded up $18,000 profit, which was once intended to be used for the erection of a winter drill hall. Luckily, a compromise was effected whereby only the greater portion of it was wasted upon a huge tent, in which all of two shows were given prior to our departure, the balance being distributed among the regimental and company funds. Many a good dinner came out of those funds during the tedious, sodden months which followed the armistice.

Again, Canada had been shown what New York was accomplishing in the way of an army, when a select little coterie of the Hippodrome veterans journeyed to Montreal to participate in the Canadian Victory Loan Parade -royally dined and entertained in leading hotels and Pullman cars, so different -oh, so different from our subsequent means of transportation.

New York was to be shown. Not sufficient were the reviews held at Camp Upton; a parade was necessary. In preparation thereof the Regiment would march to the aggravating thumpings of the bass drum, up and down, up and down, in platoon front. And about that time, too-whether by way of preparation for the parade or for our future hikings in France no one can say-there was instituted a system of battalion night marches, which displeased everyone immensely. There would usually be a thaw, the night of the party. The Third Battalion delights in telling how Adjutant Grafmuller, who spent most of his time rushing up and down the length of the column, as a test of liaison perhaps, was not very sure-footed and, as a result, was usually either picking himself out of a puddle, or falling into another one. Occasionally, the guide would become lost, putting everyone into a sweet humor.

While passing the Negro Barracks one night, there was a rush of dark figures to the curbing.

Wha's de matter, Boss?"

velled a Darky.

"Why, ain't you heard? The war's over!"

Whoopee! " the delighted rejoinder.

Encouraged by the apparent credulity of repeated questioners the same doughboy attempted the same extravagant replies again and again.

Say, wha's all de rumpus ovah?

Why, ain't you heard?

The war's over!"

"Yeah," came the scornful reply the last time. I'll bet yo' wish t it was!"

Washington's Birthday was selected for the parade, the movement beginning with the entraining of the Three Hundred and Fifth on the morning of the twenty-first. All along the route, eager crowds cheered the future Argonne fighters on their long journey up First Avenue to Fifty-ninth Street, thence down Fifth Avenue to Madison Square. The parade was a great triumph, despite the snow and the slippery pavements-ruinous to the dignity of many a blushing doughboy or proud officer. Impartial critics expressed sincere admiration for the appearance, carriage and evident discipline of the troops, who erect, proud and purposeful, marched with a swing and a snap and a precision truly remarkable. Half of the men, and most of the city felt that we might move directly to the port. And, however much the prospect of leaving home may have saddened the stoutest hearts, there were few men who looked forward with any degree of pleasure to another period of drillful waiting.

But there was much to be done, before the Division could leave. We had to return to Camp. The- tables of infantry equipment, very uninteresting but highly imaginative, demanded that each man carry on his person, in his pack or in the barrack bag, nearly everything but the kitchen stove-a hideous amount of equipment, all very pretty and possible for garrison but a terrible handicap in the field, or even in training. All of it had to be issued, reissued and marked. Early and late, the mechanics tapped and hammered the numbers, names and unit designations on leather and metal; the painters lost sleep over the job of marking the web equipment, blankets, bedsacks and bags. Inspections which proved that a man couldn't keep his two " laces, shoe, rawhide, extra" more than two minutes were held morning, noon and midnight; awful tales were told of company commanders being turned back in disgrace from the gang plank because one man of the unit lacked a single sock of the required five pairs. Five pairs! These were parlous times-worse even than the old regular Saturday morning inspections with their frost-bitten ears and subsequent mad dashes toward the New York trains.

"Have you a tooth-brush?

" Yes, sir. "

"Let me see it." Whereupon the soldier would pull from a grimy pocket a still grimier tooth-brush with which he had been cleaning his rifle.

An ominous twenty-four-hour leave in which to attend to final business affairs was granted early in April. The advance party of the Division had sailed. On Palm Sunday, it seemed that every woman within a radius of a hundred miles came to see Johnny off; the camp never looked so decorative; tearful wives, mothers and sweethearts were there by the thousands to say " Good-by. " Yet the agony had all to be gone through with again, another weekend. At last, on Sunday morning, the fourteenth, we were told to line up and empty our bedsacks of straw and to pack the barrack bags-more fuss than a bride might have packing her trousseau. Repeated formations; repeated inspections, eliminating this and that. Yet some of the boys carried away enough to stock a country store. Then, in the night, barracks were policed for the last time ere the troops marched silently to the waiting trains -a secret troop movement which all the world could have known about. Not a man was absent from his place, a fact which speaks wonderfully for the spirit and discipline of these New York boys, about to leave home, the most wonderful city and the most wonderful people in the world-about to undertake

the most difficult and heart- breaking job of their lives. At the very first stage of the journey, a most lamentable accident occurred, the derail-ment of a train bearing a greater part of the Second Battalion. "just as everybody was falling asleep over his equipment, it seemed as though everything began falling allover everything else. There was a terrible rumble and a crash and a grinding-and darkness; terrible moaning as someone crawled out from under the pile of seats, packs, rifles, glass and dirt, to strike a match. We were lying on the ceiling of the cars, gazing through the debris up toward the floor. Somebody chopped a hole through the floor, through which we clambered only to find the whole train in the same topsy-turvy condition. By the light of huge bonfires hastily kindled, the rescue work went on. Three of our good pals were killed; Murphy, Mohan and Hudson, and sixty others were so badly injured that they didn't come across with us. Back to camp went the trainload for replacements. And that same afternoon, we staggered up the gang plank, looking as if just returning from France, instead of going."

THE SONG OF THE SOLDIER

Take the very blood within me,

Pour it in the carnaged gore,

It can be no more the noble

Than the gifts of those before.

Oh! the pain that waits beyond me

May be more than I can bear,

But the heart that throbs within me

Knows me eager for my share.

There was laughter where my pathway led in days of long ago,

And the coming generation,-they must find it even so;

There were schools that I attended, shaded groves in which to stroll,

And a just God dealt the measure by an old and ancient scroll; There were garlands by the wayside with their fragrance all for me; There were tender thoughts to woo me when my dreams were young and free; There were tender loves to cheer me, wondrous hopes in hours of ease,- To the coming generation,-we must leave a share of these!

Bring the shriek of battle round me,

Throw me headlong in the flame,

I may tremble, weaken, cower,

But I'll soldier just the same.

Spare me! God, I could not ask it,

When the Cause is wholly Thine;

All I ask of Thee is courage

And a goal beyond the line.

There were cities builded for me; there were comforts never few, And no threatening foreign tyrant shall make them less for you-, There was all a dreamer envied, all a dreamer craved, And now a Freedom's Conquest calls that it be saved. We shall go with Glory silent, not one voice to cheer, Not one friendly bandclasp, not one falling tear;- We can lay on Freedom's altar only that which Freedom gave, Nor applause, nor tender partings will we need to keep us brave.

This is the song of the soldier,

Finding a voice in a pen,

Lost, perhaps, in the millions

Who champion the cause of Men;

This is the heart of the soldier,

Wistful and longing and young,

There at the stern of the transport

Wishing the song were sung-,

Watching his Liberty Goddess

Grow dim in the land behind,-

Knowing the tug at his heartstrings

Is meant for men of his kind;

These are the dreams of the soldier

Who prays he'll never forsake,

And such are the dreams of the millions

Who yet follow in his wake.

From " Up With the Rations, and Other Poems," By John Palmer Cumming, Sgt., Supply Company.

CHAPTER II

THE CROSSING

WHAT! Everybody gotta go below decks! Not to have one last, long, lingering look at the harbor-at Old Girl Liberty whose shape adorns all our baggage? There was nothing secret about the way we boarded the Cedric and the Vauban! Despite the fact that when our ferry-boats steamed from Long Island City around the Battery to the piers the skyscrapers of lower New York waved countless handkerchiefs, and that whistles tooted like mad, someone thinks that if we all keep below while the transport steams down the Harbor in broad daylight no German Secret Service agent will suspect for a moment that American troops are crowded aboard! Oh, well, let's try to get a thrill out of fooling ourselves even though we fool nobody else.

And must even the portholes be closed up tight? Phew! It's stuffy enough below decks with 'em open. just look at what we've got to sleep in, row upon row, double tier, scarcely room between those dividing boards for the shoulders to fit in, to say nothing of letting one roll over and be comfortable.

"As for those port-holes-keep your hands off them, shut or open. Nobody but the crew is to touch them; they will open 'em up in the morning, and close 'em up at night." "-and no man will be allowed to carry matches. Hand over all you have." (Wonder if he knows they are on sale at the canteen down on Deck D?)

"-and don't throw anything overboard, cigarette butts, papers or food scraps. (Perhaps it is that the hungry submarine crews, long at sea and sceutling food, will track us.)

"Put your life belt on-, no, youve got it hind side before; tie it down securely so that it won't crash up against your chin and break your neck when you have to jump into the sea. Don't take it oil until you reach Liv- er, er, until you land."

" Find out the number of your life-boat and go to it promptly the moment you hear the drill call."

"Keep your bunks policed constantly and lay out your equipment in the manner prescribed, each morning. Get out on deck by eight-thirty, and stay out."

" Your green card that you got at the gang plank shows what your sitting is in the mess hall. Be on time, or you're out o' luck."

And so on.

Perhaps it was just as well to preclude the heartaches which a free view of the receding coastline might have produced, to let the men focus at once all their attention upon the inconveniences and novelties of their life aboard ship. There were many of both. Though First Sergeants ate in the main dining room of the Cedric, the messing accommodations for the men in general were awful-crowded, rushed, confused, smelly and disagreeable, two or three sittings necessary. The fish was particularly discouraging, and fish-day was by no means limited to Friday. Already there was ample proof of the food shortage in England, if the service aboard an English vessel could be accepted as evidence. Many were the arguments and the fist fights precipitated by the insolent little bussboys and the stewards. Particularly grating were the attempts to sell privileges, extra portions or favors by the crews. Those on the Vauban will not forget the gunner who frequently paraded the top deck in all his glory, stinging the boys with his lemonade at five cents "per gloss." One afternoon, as he was shouting his old war cry, "Lemonade, nickel a gloss," Larry Sobecki interrupted him with: " I sye, ould choppie, fool the boys just once an' put a lemon in it." Not exactly a fight, this time, but the Englishman's angry retort: "Go wye, you bloomin' Yank; you 'aven't no bloody discipline hat all."

Nobody was in very good humor those first days, anyhow. The Cedric was greatly overloaded, four thousand troops being jammed in where about eighteen hundred had previously been carried. Companies were split up and dragged around from one section of the ship to another, oftentimes the platoons separated in hopeless fashion, one platoon for'ard, another aft, two more tucked into the hold with the bilge. It was after being shifted two or three times that the disgusted Supply Company overheard one of the ship's officers on the Canopic remark during his regular morning inspection: " I think we'll take this company out of here and put them down in-" "What's that you're going to do to my company now?" exclaimed Captain Buttner, while the bolts of a dozen service rifles clicked in threatening fashion. Curiously, they were not again disturbed.

Not disturbed excepting by the periodic drill held on their own diminu-tive portion of deck and at the particular time allotted to them, or excepting by the everlasting inspection of equipment-the knives, forks, spoons, tent pins and socks gradually evaporating-Lord knows where to. Enlisted men can give anybody lessons in losing things. And so useful, those tent-pins! Gradually, too, the four boxes of hard bread, reserve ration, which every man carried, became flapeared and bedraggled, the blue meat tins battered and lost. Or eaten.

It is hard enough to sleep in a hole with a hundred other men, in an uncomfortable, narrow, board bunk, to be cheated out of a half-hour's rest each morning by the daily eastward progress of the convoy and by the consequent readjustment of the clocks, hard enough to be roused betimes for the eternal inspection, drill and policing-why, we cleaned portions of those vessels for the first time in their respective careers; but atop of all this, to take one's turn at guard duty is mighty inconvenient!

At one of the eighty-seven useless posts aboard the Cedric stood guard a big Swede, transferred with hundreds of other comparatively untrained men to the Three Hundred and fifth from Camp Devens on the eve of our departure from Upton in order to bring us up to the required two hundred and fifty men per company. The Officer of the Day, most of whose duties are performed at night, while inspecting the guard asked this man what his special orders were.

" Ahungh! " grinned the round face of the Swede. " Av bane kape feller from das blace." And judging from the bulk of him and the determined way in which he gripped his rifle, it seemed as if he might even be able to prevent a torpedo from intruding upon the sacred confines of his post.

Colonel Smedberg, sauntering on the deck of the Cedric one evening was challenged: "Hey, youse can't go past dis gate!"

"Is that the way you have been taught to challenge?"

"Oh, I see you're one of them there lootenants. Pass on."

"What do you call this?" asked the colonel, indicating the silver eagle on his shoulder.

"Oh, er, er," stammered the sentry. "Why, it's a BIRD!"

But all of the guard details were not so irksome; in fact, the Submarine Patrol, men selected for their intelligence and keen eyesight to stand upon the bridge, in the crow's nest and at other privileged points of vantage, derived considerable thrill from the importance of their work, being required during the tour of duty to detect and report the lurking periscope.

"Say-look at this compass. We're headed southwest! Are we going to the Panama Canal? Holy smoke, now look at it! Veering 'round to the north. Halifax, without a doubt. And now, IT be darned if she hasn't swung 'round to the southeast. We're going to the Mediterranean, sure! Naw, she's simply trying to throw the submarines off the track."

The northern route it proved to be, for presently our small convoy was met by those ships bearing another portion of the Division which had put out from Halifax, and by an American cruiser, making thirteen vessels in all. The superstitious were accused of lingering at the rail for hours, hoping for the addition or subtraction of a vessel or two, and under no circumstances to be separated from their life-preservers.

Others, too, lingered at the rail; for one day of our generally pacific voyage was marred by a tremendous plunging and rolling. Then it was that the food seemed particularly bad, almost useless, in fact. Much of it was thrown away, despite the existing orders to drop nothing overboard.

It was not until after reaching the so-called Danger Zone, on the twenty-sixth, that a real submarine scare developed. On that day, upon our first glance at the sea, it was apparent that a group of destroyers had met the convoy which then, flanked on either side by four or five "tin-lizzie-s of the sea" constantly zig-zagging in and out, assumed ever changing formations-now massed, now greatly elongated, first in a sort of diamond formation, then in column of two's, then staggered-the maneuvering of the vessels and the constant signaling back and forth proving of great interest.

The afternoon sky was bright and the sea as smooth as glass. Troops were sunning themselves lazily on deck; officers lounged about in the smoking rooms. In the midst of calm and quiet was suddenly felt a dull, ominous thud, much as if the hull of the vessel had grounded upon a submerged rock, repeated again and again in rapid succession. Stokers left their boilers, cooks left their soup, the sea-sick forgot their illness; men ran up from the baths clad only in life-belts, making the deck with a hop, skip and a jump, while others proceeded sedately (camouflage, of course) to inquire where the torpedo had struck. Somebody hit up the old refrain: "Throw out the life-line." One of the destroyers, darting up through the lane of transports, was suddenly seen to turn about almost within its own length and race headlong down the column again, dropping depth bombs on the way. Some will tell you with evident pride that a torpedo just grazed the bow of their vessel; others, that at least six periscopes appeared immediately astern; others that the well -known proverbial oil was seen to come to the surface. It was ever easy to discern periscopes. Anyhow, the gunners on the stern took things calmly enough, some remarking that they had never yet seen a periscope, others seizing the opportunity to relate to eager ears how many times they had been attacked on the last trip over.

The boat drill did appear a bit more seriously regarded that afternoon; and it was quite apparent that Major Woodward, obliged to take a position in Sir Ernest Shackleton's boat, was one of the lightest hearts aboard.

The suppressed submarine thrill was not the only form of amusement, Among the few civilian passengers aboard the Cedric were the Archbishop of York, who seemed to think the war hopelessly lost, and Sir Ernest Shackleton, the noted Antarctic explorer, whose discourses were tremendously interesting. Among the troops were a number of corking entertainers who on many an evening filled the smoking-room with music and jest and noise. Major Woodward managed to stir up a bit of entertainment with his succession of rumors and practical jokes and a chess tournament, which he instituted after triumphing over several of the other chess-fiends. Nor will the officers of tile Second and Third Battalions and of Regimental Headquarters, on board the Cedric, forget how Lieut.-Colonel Winnia, then commanding the 304tb Machine Gun Battalion, with shirt collar cleared for action and a pipe of tobacco handy, was continuously at home to the officers, and with what absorbing interest they watched him day after day, lancing an old Gettysburg map with multi-colored pins.

April twenty-seventh found us toward afternoon in English waters, our escorts seemingly more active than ever; near this point, someone soberly whispered, the Lusitania was sunk. Well, if we ever got to France, we'd show the Germans what a mistake they made when they sent all those inno-cent folk to the bottom! And there, presently, loomed the distant cliffs of Wales. A welcome sight! Who would ever have thought, a year ago, that at this time we would be sojourning on the far side of the globe? How preposterous, that we should have left our shops and trades and other diverse interests for this., Come; bring on the excitement; let's get into it!

Now the vessels were assuming a new formation, ap-parently stringing out into single file. Could anybody read the wig-wag messages flashed by the adroit signalmen from the bridge? We strained our eyes and our field glasses in vain, picking up only a word here and there, mindful of all the hours spent in signaling, back in camp-how two squads would line up, opposite each other; if the squad reading the message could not make it out there was no harm done; all that was necessary was to shout out, "We didn't get it; what was the last word?" and the message in full would be shouted back.

The gray outlines of Liverpool and an enormous advertisement for Spratt's Dog Cakes greeted our eyes at five A. M., as we rose Sunday morning, the twenty-eighth of April, our ships riding at anchor in the Mersey. Portentous, the men agreed; if they hadn't already eaten many a dog biscuit on the way over, they were due for some. And there, just as the Cedric was warped in to the dock, a vivid touch of home: a real, live Ford touring car bowling down the wharf, greeted by a roar of eager approval from the populous decks.

Missing nary a chance to hurl a friendly insult at the majestic English bobbies in the neighborhood of the railroad station, the men proceeded at once to the trains, moved to laughter by a sight of their tiny six-wheeled and four-wheeled compartment cars and by the absurd little freight cars presently to be seen as the long train gathered momentum on its journey southward.

To train for several months in the British camp at Winchester, was the general verdict, as we swept through the budding countryside, through villages of tidy, red-roofed houses or through the more populous cities such as Leicester, where girls at the station served hot coffee, where women and girls and little boys and old men waved a God-speed to the Yanks. Some might have been a little surprised to find the railroad stations just as fully plastered with signs, particularly those advertising beverages, as those in America. " What station is this?" someone inquired as the train slowed down perceptibly. "Why," said a lieutenant knowingly, and in all seriousness, "this is-er, BOVRIL ' ';

To be landed at Dover after a ten-hour ride, could mean only one thing: there would be no training period in England. A sight of the steep, steep hill leading to Dover Castle, meant still another thing: that after lugging those murderous packs up the long grade, five thousand young men of America would be ready for whatever the British could offer in the way of a ration and a night's sleep. Despite their present initiation to the light British supper of tea, biscuit and marmalade, and the prospect of sleeping on the bare board floors of the old stone barracks looming high above the harbor, many had the energy and the curiosity to wander back into the seaport town to see what they could see.

The sky was gray and the wind bitter cold. Those who gathered 'round the scanty fire in the British officers' club, listening intently to the post com-mandant, a wounded colonel, whose false right hand bung uselessly at his breast, felt that the war was coming very close. Current English newspapers told of the fall of Kemmel and of the almost certain loss of Calais in consequence. If the wind were just right, the thunder of distant cannon might be heard across the Channel. There in the harbor Jay the battered hulk of the cruiser Vindictive, just returned from its heroic night raid on Zeebrugge. They listened in rapt attention to a recital of that famous exploit, as night came on and the windows were darkened against the possibility of German bombing planes. Nor were hearts any less sober the next morning when we gathered on the quay for transportation across the Channel. A sentry striding the breakwater looked, oh, so realistic, in his full kit: helmet, gas mask, cartridge belt, rifle and fixed bayonet! He must have come right out of the trenches we had read so much about. Good old Chaplain Browne, too, had straight dope that morning, which he whispered in confidence to some of the officers; that the Germans were breaking through toward the coast; that before night we would be digging somewhere in the support trenches; that the British felt Calais to be doomed, and that we were simply being fed to the slaughter.

Is it any wonder then, that the Channel passage seemed the most fiendish journey ever devised? It is thought by some that a destroyer put out from the breakwater in company with the one or two small steamers which bore the Regiment across; but nobody saw them after we fell off the towering crest of wave number one into the trough between that and mountainous wave number two. How we ever got over that second wave, and the next and the next, no one knows-except maybe the one or two copper-lined creatures who weren't seasick.

CHAPTER III

FLANDERS

WAXEN, pale green faces leaned over the rail as the tiny Channel steamers found smooth water and approached the wharves at Calais. From the landing stage, some British Tommies rudely inquired: "I sye, are you going to the war? Why, you're half dead now! " We were; and not at all enlivened by a sight of the long hospital train at the nearby station, with all its blood and bandages. Things were going badly at the front.

Through the rain and the confusion on shore, through a maze of ambu-lances, all driven by women, the Regiment found its way to Rest Camp No. 6, East, past swarm after swarm of tenacious urchins either selling their sandy chocolate, bitter candies and sugarless cakes, or screaming, "Souvenir Ameri-caine; penny, penn-ee! " And still farther on and on, through deep, shifting sand, past gangs of German prisoners at work, to the "rest" camp. " Oh, you Dutchmen; wait till we get a crack at you!" With that first hike, our troubles started.

"Look at the dinky tents they're going to put a whole squad into!" was the derisive cheer which greeted the rows on rows of conical tents. Imagine the disgust when a round dozen men were told off into each of them, which were sunk into the ground a couple of feet, and surrounded by a two-foot wall of sandbags, as protection against the lateral burst of aerial bombs; for night raids on Calais were of regular occurrence.

Released for an hour or two in which to get rid of their sea-legs and a portion of their last pay, men wandered uptown with passes to explore the questionable delights of the ancient city now darkened at night and showing evidence of recent raids. The doughboys' curiosity is insatiable. In Calais, the officers quickly began to discover that the English, with their ubiquitous clubs and messes, had at least learned to make themselves fairly comfortable, despite the war.

And no sooner were most of the explorers herded back within the wire gates of the camp at the appointed hour of nine-thirty, by those unlucky enough to be posted as sentries-only one of whom lost his rifle that night while on post-than the Boche aeroplanes came over. Like the drowsy hum of swarming bees could be heard overhead the ominous whir of the powerful Mercedes motors-a sound which everyone rapidly learned to loathe and detest. "Cr-r-umph, croomph," fell the bombs, while everyone, according to, instructions, lay close to the ground near the sheltering sandbags, although the attack occurred at some distance from the camp.

That was apparently too much for the Chinese Coolies, employed as laborers by the British and quartered in droves hard by our section of camp. Ordinarily a happy, noisy lot, they had already serenaded us with their weird music, though had anyone been able to "parley Chinee," they might have been urged politely to desist. While the Boche planes bombed Calais, the Coolies attacked the Boche prisoners. Hospitality and brotherly love was scarcely their motto; for next morning, having forgotten their enmity toward the common foe, their gentle demonstrations became more personal and intimate: they staged an honest-to-goodness Tong War, opening up a number of skulls, perhaps to make us think of New York's Chinatown. Such diverting little outbreaks were not infrequent, we were told.

Oh, think of those days back at Upton when we " stood inspection," when we checked and rechecked the mass of equipment preparatory to the crossing, and were charged for articles short! Here in Calais, much of the labor of days and nights was undone. The blue barrack bags with all they contained-the extra uniform, the campaign hat, dress shoes, knitted wear, personal articles of every description and the comfort kits so patiently turned out and presented by the thoughtful women of our own Auxiliary were dumped into a pile and bidden adieu.

In exchange for them, men and officers received a steel helmet and gas mask, after marching for hours to the "gas-chamber," where one or two imagined that they were actually in a heavy concentration of the deadly fumes and swooned artistically.

And oh, for the days at Camp Upton, where the efforts of the Mess Sergeant and the "greaseballs" were all too scantily appreciated. The bread-cheese-marmalade threat, heard at Dover, was proving a fact. We had just suffered the gas-mask-helmet-hike episode, returning to the "rest" camp late for tea-the Tommie calls his supper "tea." All we rested at that camp were our stomachs. Cooks had not been notified that the Headquarters Company would be late; so, it was necessary to make another " G. I. can of tea, while the men waited outside the mess-shack. Though supposed to be efficient at flag waving, they certainly were not gifted with the quality of patience. No hungry soldier is. Beating on the door, they yelled a number of uncomplimentary things at the management, least aggravating of which was, "Open up, you loafers, and let us in! " The Lance-Corporal inside, lowest ranking non-com in the British Army, shouted through a crack in the door, "You bloody, bloomin' Yanks, we waited three years for you; now you'll wait three minutes for us." That was altogether too good a gibe, thought the Headquarters Company who, beaten in argument, could still beat down the door, which they promptly did, utterly smothering Lance-Corporal in the ensuing rush.

Another exchange was effected, the American Winchester rifles being turned in while the British Enfields and bayonets were issued. Just what did that mean? It certainly sug-gested that we were to be linked with the British, somehow. Though not generally realized at the time, the 77th Division was to be stationed for its seasoning period in a position to back up the British behind the Arras front, virtually in reserve, to block the German advance, should the break occur. The military situation was grave. Our seasoning was likely to be a spicy one. Germany was striking at the channel ports, England rather expecting her to reach them. To our inexperienced eyes, Calais seemed defended by a mere handful of Archies or anti-aircraft cannon.

Accordingly the Regiment moved to the region centering about Licques in the Pas de Calais, on May 2d, there to be trained by what was left of the 39th British Division-one of those which had borne the brunt of the March offensive and which had been very badly shot up, a mere skeleton,

"There's a hot meal waiting for you at the end of the march," was the lure, the bait dangled under the noses of the Third Battalion as they struggled under a boiling sun; at two A. M. in a sudden rainstorm they made Alembon and Sanghem. It rained every other minute, in those days. No such rash promises having been made to the other battalions, in their case no memory of a broken promise remained to embitter the delights of billeting.

The whole Regiment had set out from Calais bright and early, ridden a few minutes on a freight train from Fontinettes station to Audrique, there to take up their burden-winter overcoat an' ever'thing, for a long afternoon afoot. Cheerful enough at the start of its first real march, the long column wound through a pleasant rolling country, over government roads such as abound in France, bordered by stately trees, the Regimental Band essaying at first "to put in every step all their punch and pep" but rapidly growing weak-growing weak, as evidenced by the bass drum's utter loss of rhythm.

In the midst of the afternoon a new contrivance, the rolling kitchen, overtook us, greeted by a roar of approval which quickly changed to a groan of disgust after the "coffee" was sampled. Some got none, and remained considerably more vigorous than those who partook.

Toward evening, as H and G Companies stumbled into Le Poirier for their initiation to the matter of billeting, the old school-teacher was in the act of prying a cow from one of his outbuildings requisitioned for lodgings, apparently making excuses to the poor thing. "My Cod," exclaimed Lieut. Henderson, "if that cow can learn French, I can."

Those who did not strip at once, to plunge into the frigid stream which ran through the village street, sought to exercise their meagre knowledge of French in bartering with the townfolk. The price of eggs went soaring. Sergeant Felder, of the Signal Platoon, knew that "egg" in French sounded something like "oof." He asked the rnadarre for two. " Woof, woof," be said-, but the old lady certainly did not "compree." Undaunted, Frank picked up a handful of hay, shaping a little nest of it, in which he tenderly placed two round stones. Then he hopped around the yard, flapping his arms and shouting, " Cluck, cluck, cutaw-w-cut," whereupon the good woman's counte-nance brightened perceptibly. He got the eggs and his platoon's nomination to the post of interpreter.

An unsigned contribution from A Company reads: "I'll never forget the long, thirteen-hour hike from Audrique to Licques. We were marched through a muddy barnyard to a stable door and told to go in and make our selves comfortable, and we were so tired that we simply dropped on the floor of the dirty place. It was not until morning that I thought again of my blistered feet; my partner woke me up by rolling over on them in his sleep, and wouldn't get off 'em. 'For the love o' Mike,' I said, 'get over on your own side and let me sleep.' I struck a match and found, to my great surprise, that my partner was a two hundred pound porker. Sleeping with hogs was no game for me, so I grabbed my blankets and straggled into another part of the barn. Here I had to put up with the cows ' but nevertheless, I went to sleep. At Reveille I was out of luck; for when I awoke at 'first call' I found a mademoiselle milking the cows. I couldn't very well dress with her there and consequently got the Dickens for being late to Reveille. Which proves that one can't be a soldier and a perfect gentleman at the same time. "

Perhaps it is the writer of the above, who was severely reviled by his bunkies one night for making a dreadful racket and who replied with some heat "that he would get this damn pig out of the bed or know the reason why."

The billets furnished other amusements, too. The Headquarters Company tell how Jimmy Wild, who now doesn't like rats, was much amused to see one try walking a slack wire directly over his recumbent form; how the rat balled up his act and fell directly on Jimmie's face; how, with a yelp, James seized the rat by the tail, hurling it convulsively across the barn-at the blanketed form of the somnolescent Corporal White; how he in turn flapped his blankets in the general direction of Fitzgibbon, who hastily made a pass at Mr. Rat with a bayonet-with the result, of course, that the rodent escaped.

It was after a few days of billet life that the doughboy first confessed, bashfully, that he thought he had a cootie. Horrors! To think of OUR boys having-er, er, why, we could not bring ourselves to use the dictionary word for these new acquaintances. Acquaintances? Ay, bedfellows!

Presently another, and still another victim. The thing lost its novelty as well as the stigma of being "visited." A certain preoccupation claimed the spare minutes. Along with a gesture characteristic of the monkey, bathing became more popular. Boiling the clothes was thought to be efficacious, though it was soon apparent that only a boiling of both the clothes and the soldier at the same time could bring about any marked degree of success. The Sanitary Detachment issued a sort of talisman to wear suspended from the neck-quite decorative and all right in its way, excepting that the little gray fellows seemed to grow fat on it.

There may still be some who claim never to have "entertained visitors." But others will tell you how their pets wore service stripes and wound chevrons, and would not only answer to name, but also fall in, count off, and do a perfect squads right."

"… On my shirt they do 'right dress,'

Number off and march to mess,-

They run wild, simply wild over me."

One evening, a group of lieutenants sat within the only light-proof barn left standing in Thenorgues, patiently "reading their shirts" by the light of the flickering candle. None of them could possibly have had a bath for at least two weeks. Presently a very superior voice issued from out the depths of a comfortable corner: "Say, if you fellows would only be clean, bathe once in a while, you wouldn't be bothered by these seam-squirrels."

Wow! Such impudence! They dragged him from his bed, promising that if so much as one cootie were found on his bragging person he would be sentenced to expulsion from the billet-without clothes. Would you believe it-for some unaccountable reason, they couldn't find a single shirt-rabbit! But just to punish him for his insufferable superiority he was thrown out, anyhow.

But to the drill which, under the guidance of British officers and non-coms dragged us out of bed at an early hour, rain or shine, and let us off just in time for supper! Perhaps you were unlucky enough to be quartered in Audrehem, where the Second Battalion had their headquarters, or in Le Poirier, and led to the summit of that unspeakable hill every morning, there to grub away in the earth, learning how to ply the festive pick and shovel on a trench system; how to throw live grenades, how to shoot, how to play games for which the British are very strong, and how to wield the bayonet. An English sergeant-major was endeavoring to arouse the will to use the bayonet, in a small group of very earnest though very awkward American soldiers. One of them made a terrific lunge at his imagined adversary as if he were going to finish the war right then and there, lost his balance and fell over a thoroughly wounded dummy. "Fine spirit," cried the sergeant-major, "but go slaow, there; go slaow. Ye'll win the Victoria Cross that wy, hal-right; but yer mother'll wear it."

And the gas-mask! It had to be carried constantly, in the hope that the soldier would come to look upon it as his best friend, his inseparable companion. Our preliminary training in gas defense had in Camp Upton advanced to such a point under the able tutelage of Lieutenant Kenderdine that scarcely a man in the Regiment was unable to don the mask in less than the required six seconds. Of course, there were the peculiar cases such as that of Private Wigder whose false teeth, gripping the mouth-piece, would insist upon leaving their proper hiding place, sallying forth and biting him in the cheek-or something like that; we forget just what the excuse was which sent him into the kitchen at Regimental Headquarters.

A British general, in whose area and under whose jurisdiction we happened to be training, said to the American officer who accompanied him on tour of inspection one morning: " And are your men well trained in the matter of gas-defense? "

Oh yes indeed," replied General Johnson.

Gas! " screamed the general at a passing doughboy, for the purpose of making a practical test. Nothing but blank amazement masked the Latin -American countenance on the roadside.

" Gas! " howled the general, thinking that the boy hadn't heard him. No response - not a quiver of intelligence.

"Don't you know enough to put on your mask when you hear that warning?" cried the excited dignitary.

"Me no speak-a da Eenglis," answered the American.

After all the strain and stress which characterized the gas training, one can easily imagine the diabolic grin which greeted the news that Lieut.-Colonel Winnia, while visiting the English front, had momentarily mislaid his mask and had got a lungful.

It was perfectly topping, the English said, for the Americans to brigade their fresh units with the British, as was once the plan-the Americans fur-nishing new vigor and "pep," the British furnishing the experience. But the idea didn't appeal to the American youth at all; temperament, perhaps. It was with great consternation that one of the British officers breathlessly reported to Colonel Smedberg one day that a disquieting rumor was abroad: the American soldiers had said they wouldn't fight. Just another instance of the American doughboy's extravagant conversation being taken seriously. In all probability, some bragging British sergeant had undertaken to tell a crowd of willing listeners all the horrors of the trenches, real and imagined, spreading the butter too thickly; the American, envious of the older man's experience, had maliciously given the impression that he was a near-Bolshevik. Nothing to it.

British Corporal instructing some of our signalmen in use of Lucas 14cm. daylight signal lamp.

While the Powers that Be, Those Higher Up, and "They" were sending each other congratulatory telegrams about the glorious reunion of the two sister nations, how the Minute Man of '76 and the Red Coat had finally clasped hands, how blood would tell-Doughboy and Tommie were discovering that blood still had a lot to tell. For one thing, it stood to reason that the poor, downtrodden British Tommie was all to blame for the ration of cheese, tea, marmalade and dog-biscuit. Besides, it hurts the pride terribly to hear a better story put over than one's own about war and outrage and blood.

A Tommie sits in a corner of the cafe beside a bottle of beer. "Come on over, Yank, and 'ave a bottle, he says. "You're on," replies the Yank, offering a Goldflake, or a Red Huzzar, or a Three Castles, or something equally awful; whereupon, for want of something more cordial and brotherly to say, the Tommie remarks, "Well, we've been waiting more than three years for yer ... .. Yes," answers the doughboy, having thought up a good retort to this, since the first insult at Calais, we had to come over and finish the job for you." They embrace with a crash of glass, and when reinforcements rush up from either side, the Allies break friendly bottles over each other's heads. With difficulty the blood brothers are separated, moving off to see what all the similar racket is about in the estaminet further down the street and fondly hoping for some real excitement.

Many of us who hadn't acquired even a cootie or two in the course of the hardening process-no doubt 'twas thought to stiffen our resistance to as many hardships as possible-either picked up a couple of "friends" while visiting the British in the front lines of the Arras sector, or got them from those who returned. F Company boasts that Sergeant Farmer came back with cooties clear to his shoe-strings, inoculating the entire First Platoon and the officers, and planning to take home to Mabel eighteen trained coots in a pill box, which he "read" off McGee's shirt.

Mothers' Day, May 4th, saw more letter writing than ever before in the history of man; about that time, the first mail came through from the United States. Will you ever forget the thrill of those first letters-or the frightful lies you wrote in reply? Already, the Company officers, required to censor all outgoing mail, were busily carving out of existence the vivid accounts of fictitious raids, attacks, and heroic adventures, and a scribe of Semitic origin was doing a big business in M Company writing letters to the home folks for the boys-two stereotyped pages furnishing the necessary news, a third proving that Sonny was just as sentimental as ever.

Those who were fortunate enough to visit the British front line really had something to write about, and were the center of interest upon their return from the region of Gommescourt Wood and Fonquesvillers, ground which had recently been retaken from the Germans in their strategic retreat to the Hindenburg line. It was their first taste of shell fire, their first sight of an area pitted with shell holes, scarred by rotting tangles of wire, broken gun carriages.. cannon, broken down tanks, bewildering mazes of disused and new trenches, battered chateaux, wrecked roads and villages, forests then nothing more than a flock of stark, withered skeletons. Some even experienced the thrill of night patrolling. The officers were particularly astonished at the nonchalance with which the English officers regarded the perils of the situation, at the impor-tance of their liquor, and at their formal dinners, surprisingly well served under the very noses of the Boches-a dangerous aggravation, one might think. But all came away more or less imbued with the feeling that the whole affair "up there" was too vast, too panoramic for rapid comprehension, and impressed by the tremendous amount of noise and metal required to kill a man.

Of all the battles, skirmishes and engagements which this history will describe, there is no doubt that the Battle of Watten, of awful memory, has been most frequently alluded to. " Ah, the Rout of Watten," you will fondly say; "If someone fails to make Watten as famous as Bull Run, future gen-erations will never fully appreciate the real horrors of war." When it was all over, though we had yet to hear the roar of artillery and the chatter of machine guns, there was not a man of the Regiment who did not agree abso-lutely with General Sherman's contention regarding war.

For it was a war, a mimic war, the first of those terrible things called maneuvers; but very few of the officers and men realized until the battle was half over that the Americans were attacking the English, or the English attacking the Americans-something like that. Whether or not the whole Division, or the Brigade, or merely the Regiment was concerned, nobody seems to know, to this day. Nobody knows anything about that famous affair; yet everybody talks about it. It will doubtless remain a mystery until the end of time.

This Battalion will march . . . " began the mere scrap of paper-a "chit "-which kept officers and men of your" particular company awake the greater part of the night, packing up the full equipment, office records, trunks and bedrolls, (for the orderlies had not yet become skilled in the art of relieving the management of worry), and which sent you forth to perspire bright and early the morning of May sixteenth. "Kitchens will follow without distance." ("Yeah, an' without food," you grumbled.) A four-hour march under as hot a sun as ever a midsummer had to offer brought the First Battalion to Zouafques, the Second to Louches and the Third to Tournehem. All afternoon the weary came straggling in, dropping exhausted into billets where they fondly hoped to rest for the next two weeks at least. But such was not to be. Many of the boys, too weary to clean out the stables allotted to them, preferred to flop in the adjoining pastures under their dog-tents.

Four o'clock next morning, the seventeenth, was the hour at which you contemplated murdering the bugler; at five-thirty you were on the road, that is, if you were in the Second Battalion. The orders read that at some-thing like eight-forty-three, thirty seconds and two ticks, roughly speaking, the Regiment would assemble at cross roads So-and-So, in such-and-such order. Disorder! Can't you see "them," studying the Field Service Regulations, figuring the length of each column, the distance to be covered, the number of miles accomplished by a thirty-inch step, a hundred and twenty-eight to the minute, the fifty-minute jaunt, the ten-minute halt-then rising triumphantly to announce that the Regiment would assemble from the four corners of France at the very stroke of, of- Oh, well, the battalions assembled. Then for the real work of the day!

The remarks that were passed on the march would never pass the censor. "We cursed and sweat, for the sun was ferocious; and that made the cooties happy." It was the officers' simple duty, besides carrying their own equipment, to see that the men kept up and made ten kilos look like two, a heart-breaking task. During the most trying part of the hike, an officer noticed that one of his men, an illiterate Russian Jew, was just about "all in" and that his poorly made up pack was gradually falling apart, then almost dragging on the ground. "At the next halt," he said in no uncertain tones, "you tear that pack apart quickly and make it up right! Get your corporal to help you." At fifty minutes of the hour, when the men fell out on the right, the lieutenant sauntered down the column to see that the readjustment was proceeding swiftly just as the poor, exhausted Russian took from his roll a heavy Webster's Dictionary!

Even the English Tommies at the head of the column for the purpose of setting the proper experienced pace, and who carried no packs, were well-nigh overcome by the heat. Many were the schemes to rid one's self of some, if not all of his load. The brightest idea emanated from the brain of one Mr. Gash, who cut off and threw away the canister of his gas mask, averring that inasmuch as he still retained the face-piece he was fully protected.

During one of the halts, a doughboy collapsed on the stone railing of a bridge bewailing his fate, mopped his brow and whimpered, "I've never bad a bit o' luck since I ate that fish on board the Cedric!"

All were game at the start; everybody wanted to stick it out. But the men simply were not in condition to carry their absurdly large packs in that sudden spell of warm weather. During the early stages of the march there were exasperating halts for no apparent reason, the men, of course, being required to stand in formation expecting momentarily to push onward again. That is what takes it out of a man-needless starting and stopping-the accordion formation."

At the fifteen-kilo mark, the boys started to weaken. Forgotten were the principles of route-marching as demonstrated so beautifully by the English platoon (which had nothing else to do). The big, the small and tall started to keel over. Whole squads collapsed; companies evaporated, "all along the rotten road to Wa-a-atten."

"Then our captain told us," writes a doughboy, "that we had a mile and a half to go. He fooled us. Our water was low; many were without it. The sun had us melted. Throats were parched; feet were blistered; our bones ached all over. I saw black in front of my eyes. Fifty minutes on the hike, ten minutes rest: the fifty dragged like years, but the ten went like seconds. Sometimes the major's watch would stop and we would walk eighty minutes. He never seemed to worry, for he was on his poor horse which was also all in. I saw this horse many times look pitifully at the men on the roadside and from the expression on the poor beast's face I judged that he too would like to sit down by the roadside.

"We landed in a field about two-thirty and thought it was the end of the hike, for there was old 'Dutch' Richert with his chow-wagon; and the stew he made up for us tasted like creamed turkey. But that was only the first part of the battle. With the stragglers still coming in, the major gave orders to sling packs, saying we had about three miles more to go. By that time, three miles was no more than a cootie bite to us. But we had to go ten more dreary miles before landing in the woods. 'Those packs are too heavy for even a mule,' we overheard an officer say. This made us very cheerful-made us feel like wagging our cars.

" That night, we would have relished a bed of nails and barbed wire. Having gulped down some hot water, alias coffee, and ready to 'coushay' on the ground floor of Watten Wood, I stepped over into a nearby field for a minute and was tagged by a squad of Tommies as a prisoner. That was the first intimation I had that a war was on. Just then there were such shouts and yells through the woods that we thought the Boches had broken through the lines at Ypres. The yells were fierce: 'Put out that light; do you want to get killed!' 'Douse the kitchen fires!' 'Lights out, there!' 'There he is, overhead.' Above the roar of the anti-aircraft Archies, we could hear the drowsy hum of the German aeroplanes. All one could do was to crawl into a hole and try to drag the hole in after him, while the bombs dropped dizzily in the distance. Over to the east was seen the lurid glare of a burning ammunition dump. Searchlights flashed across the sky, and managed to pick up a Taube, which dived and ducked and swerved while the Archies barked all around him. Finally he dodged out of the shaft of light, and despite the telltale buzz of his motor, it couldn't pick him up again. But what was the use? If he had landed a bomb, well-we couldn't stop his doing it, so we just naturally shivered ourselves to sleep."

At about eleven o'clock, some frightened individual sounded a fake gas alarm and the boys rushed their gas masks on in record time. At Reveille next morning, a private of A Company, who fell asleep during the supposed attack with his mask on, awoke with a start and exclaimed with indignation to the sergeant standing near, "I wonder who in Hell put this on?"

But while G Company slept the sleep of the dead, "Abie" Hoffman was up and doing. In response to the major's pointed inquiry, the company commander was able to reply, "Yes, sir. G Company's packs are all present or accounted for." Anybody who knows "Abie" can imagine how he took aside the driver of a British motor lorry, found him a drink somehow, sug-gested that they take a ride and returned triumphant with all the baggage which the company had shed along the route.

Next day scarcely a man stirred out of his dog-tent until weird orders came in about reducing the weight of the packs. Away went the bed-sacks, 0. D. shirts, extra socks and underwear, personal articles, the sweaters that Sweetie had laboriously knitted, the housewives that Mother had patiently put up so that one might be able to sew on a necessary button in the field. "I give you fair warning," said our lieutenants. "Your home-made sweaters, socks and other unauthorized articles are going to be con-fiscated if found in your packs. Open up." When inspection took place, many a man had on three pairs of prized socks, and a prickly sweater out of sight next his skin; but most of these articles were ruthlessly dumped into a pile through which the grasping Tommies rummaged to their heart's delight. When another dizzy order suddenly came through to give back the sweaters, our officers could scarcely look their men in the face.

That was the second part of the fight.

After "Duncan's Dizzy Division" had spent most of the following morning in improvised and muddy trenches, the officers almost crazy because of constant and conflicting new orders, and most of the afternoon in a second series of aggravating inspections for unauthorized equipment, we lit out for home. At nine o'clock we flopped into a wood, but scarcely anybody pitched a tent, knowing that he'd have to be up and doing at four in the morning, in order to escape the heat of the day. At ten A. M., we were back at the starting place, and the superhuman first platoon of F Company, having won the hundred francs put up by "Dan" Patchin for a relay race, repaired in a body to the corner cafe in Louches, to drown its thirst; the Battle of Wat-ten was over.

That affair certainly gave the Division a black eye from which only some real action in the trenches could help us recover. A rigorous course of training ensued, much the same as that which preceded the "battle," the Regiment meanwhile being regrouped about the headquarters, at Licques.

Inspection by Sir Douglas Haig seemed to please him, in preparation for which Captain Achelis might have been heard to say, "Let's see. When he comes I can have one platoon doing a snappy bayonet drill, another throwing bombs, another in a gas-mask race, and the fourth doing 'squads right' in the courtyard of the brewery." The boys were promised a complete holiday on May thirtieth; and anyone will wager that General Pershing, whose threatened dash through the area never materialized, would not have approved of our being held the entire day, with combat equipment, in readiness for his approach and probable inspection!

"About June tenth," writes the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, " there came a real tragedy. It cost the lives of fifteen men of Company B and wounded about forty others. The extensive list of dead and injured caused it to be thought across the ocean that the Three Hundred and Fifth was already in action. The accident happened while Company B was on a British drill field near a Stokes mortar battery." Unlike the rest of the report, and contrary to the general belief, it was not a B Company man who picked up a "dud". A French soldier of a salvage unit dropped the unexploded shell, which occasioned the tragedy among the platoon about to fall in near by. It was a rather cheerless company, which fired on an adjoining range the next day; and the entire Regiment had learned by sad experience not to tamper with unexploded shells.

American rifles again! In the middle of the night, orders came to turn in the English Enfields and draw the old Winchesters deposited at Calais, and which looked as if they had been left out in the rain ever since. The Regiment would move at one o'clock, June sixth for parts unknown. Rumor had it that the American Sector would receive us " toot-sweet."

It was too bad that Captain Achelis, familiarly known to "his boys" as "Peaches," had announced with dramatic effect that to glorify the departure he had bought a pig. For, in view of the sudden order advancing the hour of march to eleven A. M., the Captain sold the pig, while his boys hastily rolled packs and snatched a chunk of bread and rare beefsteak from the rolling kitchens. For months thereafter,-on marches, in billets, in estaminets, on the mess line or wherever C Company congregated could be heard, sung to the tune, "The Farmer in the Dell," the mournful verses: "The Captain bought a pig," "The Captain sold the pig," "Who ate the pig," and so on.

Oh, the mockery of it! Having washed down the beef and read with a few gulps of chlorinated water, we stood for an hour thinking of the untouched potatoes, coffee, jam, and the possibilities of pig, before the order came from Battalion Headquarters to "fall out in the immediate vicinity." It was not until three o'clock that the order came to fall in again, which started us on our long journey to the southeast.

Not even those unfortunates who had done forty-two kilos in a day, while helping the 154th Brigade in a little maneuver of their own, felt able to scoff at the thirty kilometers with full packs, covered by one A. M. the next morning. As usual, the men got away in splendid spirits on what proved to be one of the most grueling hikes of their entire experience, everybody " covering off " properly, well to the right of the road, marching songs rising lustily from every throat. The burning sun gave way to twilight, twilight to moonlight, and still the fifty-minute marching period, still the ten-minute rest! "Gawd, how much further have we got to go?" While the men wobbled all over the road, majors, adjutants and scout officers sped up and down the ditch on horseback, testing out the liaison. "Liaison" was an enthralling word. "Er, er, Lieutenant, report to Major Metcalf that the head of this Battalion cleared cross roads Blankety-blank dash blink-point-blank at nine-fifty-two." The adjutant transmits this thrilling information to the Major, who returns the compliment, thereby leaving the ultimate defeat of Germany a mere question of time-while the plodding doughboy wonders how much more time it will necessitate and envies the adjutant his horse. "One feature of the French kilometer," he observes, "is that you not only kill a meter, but also kill yourself, particularly when you've got this pack on your back."

What did it matter if the mules and wagons of the Supply Company barely escaped running over the prostrate bodies lying confusedly in the woods at Campagne-les-Boulonnais? Utterly fatigued, there was no thought but to lie and rest and no welcoming cheer to greet the concerted action of the buglers next morning. But just stop a moment to think of the poor old cooks. No easy life was theirs while on the move. To be sure, it was the easiest thing in the world for them to slip their packs on the kitchens and ration carts despite all orders to the contrary; but they covered the same ground you did, and got up in time to feed you-as they did that painful morning.

It was soon apparent that this second day was not to be any grand and glorious achievement; tormenting feet, aching bodies, insufficient rest and groaning backs soon began to take their toll. Man after man, struggling as long as human endurance could maintain them, fell by the wayside, sick, exhausted and oftentimes unconscious. 'Long about midday, General Wittenmyer came upon a pathetic figure by the roadside, propped against his pack which he hadn't the energy to takeoff. "Dogs," he soliloquized, gazing ruefully at his feet, "you've gone back on me. For many a year you've been my main support and you've done your duty noble. I've been careful of you right along; but I guess I was too easy with you. And now, because you've had to take some hard knocks, you're laying down on me, ain't you. But I guess you done the best you could an' I can't blame you for putting me out of the running."

Any feeble attempt at mirth and hilarity had long since failed. Con-versation was at a standstill; but what the boys thought about the army at that time was unfit for publication. Yet the hike was productive of many surprises, among them General Wittenmyer's decision, after hearing the doughboy's lament, to order a lengthy rest at noon and-Sidney Wermick's quality of endurance.

"Sid had been cooking for the Signal Platoon all the time we were out with the British climbing the hills of Northern France. We had carried the pack a bit, nearly every day in the week. Sid hadn't. So, when we started on this jaunt the hardened veterans thought that Sid would be one of the first to drop out. Along about the fifth hour, when fully ready to call it quits, there was Wermick marching blithely along, seemingly with no cares or worries. He was in at the finish, and probably the freshest man of the lot. That night, his bunkie happened to be looking while Sid unrolled his pack. It comprised one blanket and a lot of straw - all the rest of his equipment was on the ration cart."

At Embrey, eighteen kilometers away, the entire Regiment encamped in the rain upon a slippery hillside. There ensued the customary foot inspection by delighted officers who would look solicitously at masses of blisters and callouses, giving the highly original and expert advice to prick the former and shave the latter. A few minutes thereafter, the nearby stream was full of soapsuds and struggling humanity, the woods bright with naked bodies and brandished towels, and the price of wine advancing from two to six francs a bottle. "The 'Frogs' of that town," the boys complained, "paid off their war debts with the money they took over from the Three Hundred and Fifth."

One more day of it brought us into Wamin, on a Saturday night. But a Saturday night in Wamin is not exciting. We rested the Sabbath day and kept it wholly unto ourselves, lying about in glorious relaxation on the pleasant grass, attending Chaplain Browne's services, listening to the band and watching F Company's ball team trim a group of Canadians to the tune of 9-5.

Again we quote: "As we approached Hesdin, the morning of June tenth, it was our expectation to find accommodation in compartment cars, such as we had seen the French and British soldiers fly past in. But for us, there were only trains of dinky box cars which had been carting horses around France for three years and never cleaned. While some men plied the busy pitchfork, our future Argonne scouts got some valuable pointers stealing straw.

How pleased F Company's bunch of battling Irishmen were to find their beds suddenly requisitioned by the major's horse! 'Quarante hommes, huit che-vaux!' We would rather have been the chevaux, particularly after having ridden three days and nights in these side-door Pullmans."

But the boys would put up with 'most any sort of hardship, for they were going to join up with real Americans. We passed through Versailles; later, caught a distant glimpse of the Eiffel tower, thinking that perhaps we'd see something of the wonderful city of Paris which lingered tantalizingly before our eyes; but just as everyone had primed himself for the treat, the engine puffed around to the rear of the train, and started us off in the other direction.

Think of all the rumors that went the rounds. Think of all the difficulties of messing-rushing up to the kitchen cars only to find the train steaming out, and in a fair way to leave the greater part of its passengers in some unidentified portion of France. How many times did overwrought officers howl at you to "get those legs inside the car?"

At Nancy, it was the same old story-a beautiful city temptingly held before us a moment or two, only to be rudely snatched away before too many venturesome youths could sneak out of the side doors for a drink. Down near Blainville, we saw the first American campaign hats of loving memory. Old Rain-in-the-Face Overseas Cap couldn't ever come up to the campaigner could it? Either the sun smote the eyes, or the rain trickled down through the ears into one's shirt collar. Great excitement occasioned by the sight of these first Americans-engineers working on the railroads! We must be nearing the American Sector!

CHAPTER IV

LORRAINE

WHEN the tired troops were dumped with all their baggage out of the cattle cars at Charmes and Portieux on June 13th they were not thrilled. No crowd, no hurry and bustle, no transport, no cannon. No war. The country was beautiful - but one is scarcely in a frame of mind to appreciate the landscape when for two days and nights he has been jammed in so tight with his fellow men and all their worldly goods that he has had to stand erect half the night to make room for his sleeping brother. Someone had sense enough to send the train bearing the First Battalion through to a point somewhat nearer the rendezvous; but these men had only the prospect of another infernal hike. They were unhappy, ninety-five per cent. having lost their bet that we were headed for Italy. They were hungry and just beginning to realize that all the money they had so generously given to the Red Cross a few stations back had virtually paid for the food handed out to the 306th Infantry on the preceding train.

like they did toward Baccarat as a result of the vague, tissue paper orders which the train commanders somehow acquired. Had the billeting officers who were sent down beforehand, to pedal all over the countryside upon decrepit bicycles, requisitioning the most palatial cow-stables in Lorraine, been given some really sane instructions, there might have been a place designated for each and every company. Regimental Headquarters at Moyemont were soon advised by Division that the towns selected by the billeting officers -according to instructions-were not even in the correct regimental sector. In consequence, after rolling around in the grass for a good str-r-retch while the battalion transports with a bit of food were unloaded, the troops set off into the night, with inadequate maps to be studied at cross-roads by the light of a match, finally making bivouac in the fields and grumbling, " To Hell with it all."

By three o'clock on the following afternoon, it was the joyous privilege of the Second Battalion, after marching an untold number of kilometers out of their way-again, according to instructions-to land in the beautiful city of Hallianville, which had not yet deemed it necessary to legislate against the construction of sky-scrapers and whose two streets-one leading in, the other out-were flanked on either side by venerable manure piles, those stately monuments so characteristic of aesthetic rural France.

The men are hungry, but there is no food in the kitchens wherewith to feed 'em. Having tucked away fifteen in this barn, thirty in that, ten some-where else, the headquarters platoon near the proposed orderly room, the officers repair to the billets indicated upon the chart in the Mairie. H Company's officers advance upon a humble doorway which has long since retired in modest self-effacement behind the most gigantic manure heap in town.

Ha! The size of the pile is doubtless an index to wealth and standing in the community. The biggest pile, the biggest citizen. Correct. He is the genial Mayor, who is honored to place at Captain Dodge's disposal his best bedroom, the windows of which give immediately upon that prized monument resting so near the doorstep. He is proud to sell one of his poor pigs for a mere fifteen hundred francs to the brave Americans hastening to the rescue of France; he opens up a bottle of one dollar champagne in their honor and declaims grandly, "The Americans and the French are brothers; ten francs please."

Since the ban was only on alcohol, many a case of French 2.75 went forthwith out under the trees; a Polish wedding bad nothing on some of those parties. Chlorinated water was enough to drive a man to drink, anyhow-, but after sampling the beer and light wines ladled out to the soldiers, one could readily understand why drunkards are so uncommon in France. There was no more temptation to become a wine drunkard there than to become a castor oil drunkard in America. Still, it relieved the tension-a little nippy now and then. "Our money was all exhausted," wrote one of the advocates of moderation, "but there were a few of the boys who still had some. Jack was in one of the cafes playing cards and won bokoo francs; as fast as he could win them, I would spend them. 'By' was also in the corner; when retreat sounded, he and I were drinking champagne like water, out of beer glasses. I said to him, 'What do you say, Jack?' He said, 'To Hell with it. When they're ready to go up into the line we'll be on deck.' Then we started on the champagne again, and I drank so much that I thought I saw the Boches, and began blazing my rifle, when who came around the corner under the barrage but the honorable captain, who walked into the cafe and wanted to know who done the shooting. Finally he looked at me and just guessed right. While we were walking up Main Street, I dared him to transfer me into a fighting outfit. The lieutenant took me toward the guardhouse, when be heard sounds inside one of the billets. He opened the door, poked his head inside and sounded off, 'Stop this noise!' Someone hollered, 'Who in Hell are you?' He said, very dignified, 'Officer of the day,' and the doughboy said, 'Then what the Hell are you doing out this hour of the night?' I guess he had had some champagne, to

When the loot got me in the mill, he wanted to know why I done the shooting. I said, 'To celebrate the Fourth of July, for I never had a chance to, on the Fourth.' Next day & old captain called me down something terrible, but still he released me without trial, and T never heard any more about it."

Leaving our earlier habitations, Rehaincourt, Orton-court, St. Genest, Hallianville and Moyemont, the billeting officers of the battalions and the billeting N. C. O.'s of each company had their fill of marching on ahead of their companions to list and apportion the available cowsheds and other roofs. The Supply Company, which soon took up its abode in Azerailles, into which the railroad trains crept now and then and from which they could readily distribute supplies, was decidedly envied by the rest of the Regiment, even though Azerailles was a good target for aerial bombs. And not merely a good target, but the subject of a number of harrowing attacks. The Supply Company suffered there more casualties than all the rest of the Regiment, in Lorraine. Through Domptail, Fontenoy la Joute, Glonville, Gelacourt and other villages, our billeting experiences ran.

Our experiences hiked, rather; for the Infantry generally travels afoot. This entire period stands out in our minds as one of countless night marches, moving ever nearer and nearer the front, drilling the while, hoping and praying for the time to come when we could at last feel safe " in the trenches. " Well how is the Major feeling?" one doughboy would ask another. "Looks worried," might be the reply. "Then let's start getting our packs ready, for there's a hike on, tonight."

All this territory had once been in the hands of the Cermans; they had advanced rapidly during the first days of the war. Stark and staring now, gaunt ruins reared their tottering heads into the moonlight, the churches shattered, the stars peeping through great gaping holes in their crumbling towers, the houses gutted and unfit for habitation. Pathetically, a few old men, women and ragged children would gather in the moonlit squares to call, "Bonne chance, mes enfants. Vive I'Amerique!" as the troops filed through. On and on through the countryside, past an endless stream of motor trucks and transports into the next diminutive stone village, each one a bit poorer than the last and exactly as the retreating Germans had left it in 1914. One came to dread these marches, the consuming fatigues, the sore feet, the suddenly discovered illnesses probably induced by too much vin rouge, the commandings, the drivings, urgings which are an inseparable part of every long journey afoot and which eat the heart out of a man. On the other hand, there was the encouraging tramp, tramp, tramp of the faithful, the ten-minute rest on the right of the road, and then the fifty-minute back-breaker. "I've tramped over every road in France but one," wailed an eloquent letter writer, and I expect to cover that one tomorrow. A week or so ago, after we had been walking nearly all one night, Jack and 'Sauerkraut' shouted 'Rest!' from their place in ranks, and were given 'arrest' by the old captain; but they both preferred court martial to company punishment. Poor 'Sauerkrauk" was transferred to the Q. M. and in Azerailles was fatally wounded in an air raid. He should have taken company punishment in the first place."

Each new town visited meant a cleaning of both town and man; no sooner would the streets be swept, the civilian garbage buried and the men scrubbing their clothes at the public "lavoir" than off we'd go to another cleaning. The French never could comprehend the apparent eagerness with which the American shaved, plied the toothbrush or rushed to the nearest swimmin' hole. But the French did wash their clothes now and then; and tremendously amusing was the sight of an old woman at the public fountain, lambasting the wash with a weighty paddle. Some of the boys reckoned that cooties could not survive such manhandling, and tried it out, ineffectually.

In other ways, the civilian customs provided entertainment. The Headquarters Company at Moyemont were daily aroused by the shrill blasts of the community stockherder's trumpet. At the first peep of dawn, when all good doughboys were pounding the blanket hard, he would sound off, shambling down street in motley garb-perhaps the regalia of his high office -a'dragging his wooden shoes with difficulty over the cobbles. The first blast usually produced the desired result. Out of barns and yards tumbled sundry sheep, goats, cows and pigs, to fall in behind him. Returning from the fields at dusk, the animals would instinctively fall out and retire to their respective habitations. Two members of the Regimental Band yearned for trouble. The machinations of their fertile brains sent the loudest and strongest First Comet down street one morning long ere Reveille, blowing a Call to Arms. The Pied Piper of Hamlin boasted no such array. With stately tread, he conducted his unique platoon around the town. Whither he went, they followed. He stopped playing, but still they hung on. The thing was revealing complications. Showing signs of deep concern, the cornetist attempted the soothing strains of "Go to Sleep, My Baby," without result. Far be it from such loyal adherents to desert their leader in the midst of drill. But hark! What is that old familiar sound? The shrill call of the herder's old fish-horn resounding through the village! With tails erect, or flying, or kinked or not showing at all, as the case might be, the animals dashed off in all directions. Pandemonium reigned, during which the First Cornet made good his escape.

At last, from the heights above Fontenoy, a somnolent village of several hundred souls and a few bodies, one could look off into Germany. There, in the distant haze, were the Vosges Mountains. Down in the hollow, where the little puff s of smoke appeared, were the front lines, where the 42d Division were getting what we were pleased in those days to call a "strafing." Overhead, the aeroplanes wheeled and ducked, the " Archies " planting their shrapnel bursts carefully around them, while a bugler stationed under a tree on the hilltop blew the warning Attention, his call being relayed to points wherever troops might be drilling. How we rejoiced whenever the call came which sent us flat into the grass, there to loaf and sleep until the birds disappeared and Recall sounded. Anything, to escape drill! And how we detested getting back again to that "Line of Half Platoons, Automatics on the Right Flank," as so beautifully and so uselessly charted in the red pamphlet, Offensive Combat of Small Units!

Whether to train some more, or to go on hiking for the rest of our lives, was the question. Perhaps to relieve them of this soul-consuming anxiety, eight officers and about twenty-five men, mostly from the Third Battalion, were about this time sent down into southern France for two months of horse-buying. Think of the frightful worries they had down there-sleeping in a bed every night, knowing where their next meal was coming from, real towns to play in! It must have been terrible!

Units of the Rainbow Division were now streaming to the rear, nights, through our town. It was evident that a relief would soon be accomplished. The warnings, taunts and gibes which those veterans of ninety days in the

front lines threw at us were not at all commensurate with the reports of our officers. "What they won't do to you ain't worth mentioning!" "Yeah!" is the fabled retort, " all the Germans we've seen have been singin', 'I'm always chasing Rainbows."' Those who had gone up into the front lines to reconnoitre brought back harrowing tales. The men were actually billeted, not living night and day in the trenches. The officers could with difficulty be pried out of their hammocks under the trees. The Germans would stroll into town now and then, inviting someone at the point of a gun to journey back with them; but as a war, it was a good picnic.

To learn how inexact these stories were we again took up the march about June twenty-third, this time with the steel helmets where they belonged, the little "go to Hell caps" tucked into the packs. Into a luxurious reserve position in Glonville went the Third Battalion, the Second into support at Pettonville and Vaxainville, the First into the front line at Migneville and Herberviller, Regimental Headquarters at Hablainville. French guides had met the relieving units some distance in rear of the positions, cautioning silence and an absence of lights. Would the Germans shell during the relief? The strain was terrible. " Our first night in the Lorraine Sector, I was posted with a small detail on the edge of a wood; the open field beyond was No Man's Land. I was very cautious and worried all night lest the enemy advance and annihilate our gallant little band. But with the dawn's early light I beheld in the middle of our No Man's Land a French peasant cutting bay with a horse-drawn mower."

Today, our war on the Baccarat Front (so called because the Division Headquarters were at Baccarat) seems like a period of unalloyed happiness. Seemingly, by mutual consent, the forces on both sides indulged in the merest sort of aggressive tactics, sending thither for rest and recuperation such units as had exhausted their strength on other fronts. Though regiments of the Division suffered appreciably from spasmodic aggressive tactics by the Germans, to which they retaliated in kind, the Three Hundred and Fifth never had any nasty tricks played upon it. The French who so ably chaperoned oar first few weeks on this front, before withdrawing from their intimate association with us, were terror stricken lest our artillery should fire on towns held by the enemy, or that any pronounced offensive should be precipitated. Yet, however luxurious those days appear to us now, however much we longed to get back to them once more during the bitter, heart-breaking days which overtook us on other fronts, the worries of the Lorraine Sector were all very real, at the time. Major Metcalf's battalion, the first unit of America's National Army to enter the battle line, probably did not sleep at all the first few days, what with the newness of it all, the minute reports of enemy activity to be made at unearthly hours, the stand-to at dawn, the question of feeding.

It took five hours for a ration-carrying party to fetch to all the P. P.'s on the Herberviller section-through which the Boches could have driven in four -horse chariots, had they willed. Rifles blazed away all night at imaginary raiding parties; every bush furtively glimpsed over the parapet of the P. P. was without doubt a skulking German. The planning of a Defense in Depth, the arranging of G. C.'s or Groupes de Combat, the locating of P. P.'s or Petites Postes, the placing of the P. C.'s or Postes de Commandement, were brain-fatiguing tasks. just what should be done "en cas d'attaque?"

Who will forget the first shell that came over, or the sudden barking of a battery of 75's seemingly right behind one's left ear? Who will forget the German aeroplane landing signal which, with indefatigable precision, mounted the sky at periodic intervals during the night? Who will ever forget the first ghostly glare of Very lights rocketing skyward from numerous points of the German line, or the fable of the old, one-legged German on the motorcycle dashing madly from one end of the sector to the other, setting off a bunch of sky-rockets now and then to fool us into thinking there were large bodies of troops opposed to us? Will years obliterate the terrors of a gas attack, which never occurred?

It was here that we had been warned to have our weather eyes open for the Hindenburg Circus, which had shortly before been sprung by the Germans with considerable success. The old "gas wave" was thought to be well nigh obsolete, dependent as it was upon favorable winds, terrain and barometric conditions. Gas was now projected chiefly by shells or cylinders filled with volatile poisons which burst on landing with a slight detonation somewhat like a pistol shot, just enough to crack the cylinder or spray the liquid within a short radius. The Hindenburg Circus was thought to be an indefinite number of simple dischargers, like sections of gas pipe easily and quickly set up in a trench, all discharged simultaneously by means of an electric current, appearing in effect as a brilliant and sudden roar of flame and a smothering blanket of gas before masks could be adjusted.

The result was that gas alarms, false alarms, were frequent. Down the line from right to left, and sweeping on into the back areas, would sound the beating of empty shell casings, the clanging of bells, the ominous whir of rattles and klaxons, and the frantically hurried adjusting of masks. Doubtless the klaxon to many will yet mean, not the warning of an automobile's approach, but Gas! Corporal Humphreys of A Company likes to tell of the balmy days down in the G. C. "Chauviret" where little Marcus Heim would hang his mask on an old apple free before going in swimming with the boys. "Morg and Carl resolved to show him the terrible consequences of being without his mask, letting out a yell 'GAS!' that started Marcus on a mad rush for his mask. We all had ours on, and it was some time before we 'discovered' his, threw him on his back and forced it on his face. Poor Marcus lay on his back gasping for breath while we made believe look up a doctor to come and pronounce him a victim. We found that our yells had been relayed back for miles. A ration carrying detail came up just about that time. 'What's the matter with you,' we said. 'Don't you hear the alarm of Gas?' 'Oh, that's all right,' they replied, 'we don't belong to this platoon."'

Company A, with its P. C. in the crumbling Chateau de la Noy, a relic of olden days, staged a war of its own. Why the Boches didn't loft a package of high explosive into its crumbling towers, no one could guess; it was in full observation, and full of troops. Feeling sure that the "entente cordiale " would be respected, the French and American officers took life there casually enough, dining in style, altogether too far above ground for safety. It was after several of our own unwieldy and noisy patrols had skulked about No Man's Land for several nights-"kill or capture" patrols, as they were desperately termed-neither killing nor being killed, that noises were heard in the moat one black night. A German patrol, without a doubt, coming to blow up the chateau! From the battlements, a squad of bombers listened. Again, a sound of footsteps "squnching" in the mud. Rockets were fired into the darkness, from a Very pistol, without revealing a Boche. More stealthy foot noises, until at last a brave and bold bunch of bombers floundered down into the slime, only to scare out a flock of old herons.

Sergeant Fortenbacker of Company A tells of another harrowing battle staged by his company.

" Second Lieut. Morgan Harris was on the 16th day of July in the historic year of 1918 in full command of the old fighting fourth platoon in which I'm proud to say I was a corporal. We were at the same time stationed in the support position in front of the town of Vaxainville, in the Baccarat Sector.

"Lieut. Harris had just received his commission with four other sergeants of the company. His first trouble as a commissioned officer was that we enlisted men would forget the salute, which means so much to the newly made officer. He therefore placed his favorite runner, Private McPartland, in a place where all could see him and then passed up and down the line a few times so we would get the idea as McPartland did.

"This just reminds me of the great feeling that existed between Lieut. Harris and his runner. Platoon headquarters was occupied by Lieut. Harris and Sgt. Lathrop. On the above-mentioned morning, runner McPartland saw Sgt. Lathrop "reading" his only undershirt in an attempt to rid himself of the cooties which were always doing squads cast and left on his chest and back. The runner, fearing his lieutenant would also catch these terrible shirt rats, informed him of his great peril. For this brave act Lieut. Harris made Sgt. Lathrop move to another dugout and allowed runner McPartland the great honor of sleeping in his dugout.

"On the afternoon of this eventful day the newly appointed lieutenants attended a farewell dinner given in their honor by our old company officers. It seems, in the case of Lieut. Harris, that the French wine brought out his great fighting qualities; he was sure the Germans were about to make an attack on us. He was so sure of the Dutchmen breaking through the front lines we held, that he got right on the job to make our position impregnable.

"His first move was to send for a detail of nearly the entire platoon to get rifle and hand grenades. After getting all the bombs available he instructed the men, saving to his detail, 'For your own safety I wish you ammunition carriers would keep two hundred yards in front of me while going through the woods'

"His second move was to call a meeting of the non-coms to get together and plan a defense so that our Fighting Fourth would go down in history for holding the entire German army at bay. The non-coms assembled and the lieutenant called the meeting to order, and started as follows: 'Now men, give me your attention. You may smoke if you wish-who's got a cigarette?' As nobody was lucky enough to have a 'cig' our platoon leader had to be satisfied with the makings. 'Now then, men, tonight of all nights I want you all to stick to me. We have had our ins and outs, but let bygones be bygones, because by morning some of us may be gone forever. We will stand-to all night. If something happens to me Sgt. Lathrop is second in command. I also want you all to put your heart and soul in this coining battle.' just then Sgt. Lathrop walked up with tears running down his cheeks and shook Lieut. Harris' hand, saying, 'Morg, I want to be the first to sav good-by to you.' just at this point there was a snicker from the corporals, for they knew the only time they were good friends was only when one or the other got away with a can of the platoon's jam. Now the meeting broke up and we got set for the big battle which would mean Kaiser Bill's Waterloo.

" Well, to make a long story short, when Lieut. Mooers inspected our position he found all the men unnecessarily standing-to, ready for action, the platoon leader himself studying a map and preparing for the greatest battle ever caused by a bottle of vin blanc."

Having spent their brief period in the front line, it was the First Battalion's turn to retire for rest, while others took up the arduous duties of maintaining control of No Man's Land. "It was our fifth day; the sun was shining brightly and the boys were gracefully draped over the green grass. In front of them was about forty feet of strong barbed wire to prevent a visit from any square-headed sausage inhaler who might stray over on his way back from a fishing trip or outdoor pinochle game. All was quiet and peaceful when a messenger came up and gave us the information that we were to go back in support that night. Accordingly we rolled up our homes and reluctantly filed through the winding trenches to the support position in the wood. And there our troubles began. From the precautions our platoon lieutenant took in those support trenches, and from the worried look he always wore, one would think that the fate of the army, the safety of democracy and the political freedom of the next generation depended upon our staying up all night.

"Directly night would begin to think about falling, the Chauchat teams would be marched out to their positions and given their countersigns and passwords. The latter usually sounded like a cross between a Patagonian swear word and the name of a new patent medicine. One of our fellows actually remembered his password until morning, but he long since was evacuated for brain trouble. We were then left guarding the barbed wire in front of us until morning, with the injunction to stay awake under pain of court martial, death, starvation, corned-willie"and"other horrors. At various times of the night, the lieutenant would come out with two or three sleepy non-coms to inspect us and wake up the guards. 'Gee, this is the worst war I've ever been in,' I heard someone say. 'They won't even let a feller sleep at night.' Well, it was the best little war they had to offer."

One of our most reliable privates, coming from Battalion Headquarters one night was halted by a sentry. " Halt! Who goes there? " cried the guard.

The answer, "Friend." But the private had forgotten the password -"Digne-Druot," or something like that-and was turned back. It was a rather long and lonesome journey back to Battalion Headquarters. Suddenly footsteps were heard approaching. Playing the part of a sentry, he halted the stranger, demanding the password, which he received without any trouble. Having saved himself a trip to headquarters, he then stepped over to the real sentry, gave him the password, and went merrily on his way.

Back in the support lines of Pettonville and Vaxainville the life was equally terrifying. Dog tents appeared along the grassy slopes of the Wittenmyer Line, where nights were spent digging perfectly useless trenches in the solid rock on a reverse slope, serving merely to call the Jerry-planes' attention to the fact that the Americans were there in force, daring them to send over a bit of artillery fire. Here, as further back in reserve, it was drill, drill, drill, when not carrying rations up over the tiny railway in the Bois de Railleux, and coasting home at a speed which compared favorably with the best that the switchbacks at Coney Island could offer.

There were some criticisms at the time because the 77th Division had been sent to a French sector after receiving its instruction with the British. It was unfortunate, perhaps, that the men had learned the British way of "carrying on " and had learned to use the British weapons, such as the Lewis machine gun, or light automatic rifle. This was replaced by the clumsy, clanking Chauchat which was lighter and fired a delicate and troublesome clip of twenty rounds instead of forty. Again, the British used one type of grenade, the Mills, while the French used two "citron" types, one which broke up into rough and rugged splinters for use on the defense, and another which destroyed merely by concussion, for use on the offense. Both types were primed either by lever release, or by a plunger to be struck against the heel or helmet before being thrown. There is no doubt that these new weapons caused some embarrassment at first, particularly in the other regiments of the Division, which sustained vigorous raids by the enemy. And so, the days were consumed with practice in the use of these weapons.

However poor the rations may have seemed at times, they didn't stop our daily music ration. The boys in the trenches needed aesthetic enjoyment and Corporal Kosak of the Signal Platoon set out to provide it. Daily at three the band played at Regimental Headquarters in Hablainville. To relay this music forward to the trenches was a problem easily solved. At that particular hour the Corporal would call each Battalion Signal Detachment, and had them listen on the telephone while the band played. As the musicians were stationed directly beneath the room in which the switchboard was located, the melodies were audiblv transmitted over the wire. For a long time these sessions continued, and the lieutenant in charge wondered as to the why and wherefore of all the connections on the switchboard.

Here, too, the hard work of the Intelligence Section could be seen in perspective. There seemed, in a way, to be no positive division between French and German holdings. There were many German sympathizers on the French side, just as there were French sympathizers on the German side of the lines. It wasn't exactly a case of having an enemy in the rear, but the situation approximated that to a degree. Now, it is the duty of the Intelligence Section to appre-hend all spies, as well as to know what Ger-man regiments are op-posing, or to detect and report any indications of enemy activity.

A page from a German-printed book is found in Migneville on which is penciled, as if by the merest beginner in the study of English, "Love to Joe." This suspicious bit is hurried down to the Battalion Commander by the Intelligence Officer of the Regiment with the imperious command:

"Search every library in town and apprehend the owner of the book from which this leaf was torn! No one but a female spy could be so intimate with an American soldier." At all costs, we must be protected from the sinister workings of the German spy system within the ranks. That we shall be so protected is made clear by the report: " Private H-, on May 7th, was seen giving cigars to several of his comrades. You will recall that this is the anniversary of the sinking of the Lusitania. This man will bear watching.

Again, the doughboy hears a distinct and characteristic whizzing overhead, sees the dirt fly on the hillside below Regimental Headquarters, hears the explosion and, in his ignorance, immediately jumps to the conclusion that the German is doing a bit of shelling. Ali, but one must be sure! Loughborough vaults into the saddle of his trusty, rusty bicycle, pedals madly to the scene of the intrusion and reports the awful truth: One German 77. German activity cannot escape detection by our Intelligence Department.

A big factor in our lives was Vaxainville Pete, the short change artist of the Y. M. C. A. If you asked him what time it was, he would cheat you out of' five minutes. He was a wizard on this one-to-a-man stuff. He would take your five-franc note, dig into his subway pocket for the change, wag his head sadly and say, "No centimes; be a good fellow." "Oh, that's all right," the boys would have to say, "buy a drink with it, all for yourself." We expect to hear that Vaxainville Pete has bought a farm with his winnings, and settled down.

Terrible as the war was up at the front, it was equally terrible in reserve -at Gelacourt, Brouville and Glonville. With the city of Baccarat near by, the boys longed for passes, but got precious few of them. It is rumored that all who pleaded with their lieutenants in suspiciously earnest fashion to be sent to the " delousing " plant, somehow landed up in Baccarat for a holiday.

And that four o'clock Reveille! Whose bright idea was it which turned the Second Battalion out of billets at that hour of the morning, think-ing to escape the heat of the day? A f air idea it might have been for the men; but company commanders will tell you a long, soulful story-how they would crawl back to bed at nine A. M., crawl out again to swat the pestering fly, lie down, get up to answer the battalion orderly's persistent knock, retire once more, at eleven o'clock fling on a few clothes and dash down to Battalion Headquarters in response to a peremptory summons. General Duncan, it appears, had breezed through town in his limousine, had seen a man in billets without his gas mask slung, another without his rifle and cartridge belt immediately beside his recumbent form, another outside the door of the barn in his shirt sleeves, and had demanded recourse to immediate disciplinary measures. Then, perhaps, the poor old captain would have to sit at the pay table from twelve to three, before drilling again, or inspect his kitchen, his billets, his men's equipment. Well into the evening he had his numerous reports to attend to.

And the dubbin! Shoes must be dubbined at all times, though a man have but one pair, the roads dusty, the fields muddy. "The same morning that the first dubbin arrived, the lieutenant in charge of our company received an order to send a few N. C. O.'s over to the 37th Division to teach them practical machine-gun work-a few of us Lorraine veterans. Ahem! He rallied his braves around him and picked seven for the job. We had to get our packs made and slung, eat, shave and get slathers of the awkward Chauchat stuff together in about twenty minutes, as usual. As each change in orders would occur to the lieutenant's mind, runners would be dispatched to the various billets to inform us. These runners, true to their calling, would stick their heads inside the doors, yell the news and run. 'Take helmets.' Then, 'Overcoats on the packs.' 'Wear your overcoats.' And so on. Finally, one bright chap came looking for me-'Corporal Lazarus, oh, Corporal Lazarus, Wilson says to take dubbin along; I don't know what platoon he's in, but ya gotta take him."'

It was a terrible war, but not so awful for those who got away, via motor truck, to study bomb-throwing or attend the school of the clanking Chauchat at Fraimbois. They did not complain at all about the late, luxurious Reveille, the easy classes, swimming in the river Meurthe or tripping to the big city of Luneville-or the grand parade of combined American detachments on July fourth, and the international field meet in which we gave the French such a drubbing.

The others were just about ready to be tagged to the hospital for nervous aggravation, when news of the first American offensive came through-news that the French and Americans had advanced beyond Chateau Thierry, taking thousands of prisoners and liberating twenty towns. Great was the enthusiasm and excitement. The men jumped with unwonted vigor into their bayonet drill, picturing the heroic deeds which they might at that moment have been doing. If others could fight, they could.

Then along came the 37th Division looking for something to do, and merged for a week or so their inexperienced units with ours. Veterans we considered ourselves, superciliously regarding their initial efforts in a much less charitable spirit than that of the French who had led us through the mazes of the first dance. At least, we did not discharge Colt 45's out of the second-story windows of Pettonville during an imaginary gas attack, or try to shoot up one of our own tired units, as they did our C Company when it passed rear-ward through the support lines!

It was pitch dark the night of August third when we started on a long, weary hike to the rear, the rain and lightning terrific-much less welcome than any shelling we had experienced in that sector. Played out from their long stay in the dirty trenches, out of which they had carried most of the cooties, the men slopped and slipped in the muddy road, unable to see the pack in front, but keeping distance by holding on to it. Yet, such was the relief gleaned from the prospect of some different adventure, that men sang all the way-all the way back to Domptail, where the Second Battalion was herded into an old airdrome, the first good roof they had crawled under in some time.

But there, the next day being Sunday, and though kilos and kilos behind the lines, they couldn't even go outside the building without rifle, belt, bayonet and gas-mask. And one of those irksome inspections ordered! Again that night they hit the long, long trail leading into the vicinity of Blainville, a railhead. Through Gerberviller the units passed by moonlight, the worst used-up town encountered thus far. It was said that during the Germans' 1914 advance an entire brigade had been stopped there by a mere handful of the French Blue Devils, who had been ordered to stay the advance for at least two hours. They held it up for half a day. To vent his rage, the German general had sacked and burned the town, torturing the civilians. Every time he raised his glass ten men, women and children were shot down. In the moonlight, the little town looked ghostly, scarcely one brick left standing upon another. We itched to try our guns upon Berlin itself.

Before the entrainment on August 7th, there was time in which to practice "infiltration" as -the Boche had worked it against the English. It was a beautiful word, uttered as fondly by the local Powers That Be as that "defense in depth," and "liaison." But of real instruction, real information as to how it worked out in detail, there was none. It was left to the imagination of the officers. "You are now to get back to the idea of an individual warfare, man against man, everyone for himself. It is just like the games you used to play in the sand-lots when you were boys. Go out and 'infiltrate."' And "now that you have given one morning to the teaching of 'infiltration, we can let that drop." It was dropped, until September 26th, when something akin to it was tried out in desperate earnest.

Though vaguely sensed here and there in the ranks that life was not to be simply one journey after another, there were blithe spirits-of differing sorts-aboard the trains. This despite orders that nothing drinkable but water and coffee could be allowed. One of his men tells how Lieut. Robinson of E Company cemented the ties which bound him in affection to his platoon: "When about a hundred kilos from Blainville, old 'Champy' Robinson, the champagne hound, jumped out of the officers' coach and bought six bottles of Monte Belle. The train started while he was making the purchase. Robbie paddled desperately after the moving train, handing bottles through the car doors as they flashed by, ere he could make a landing. Some of the boys thought he was remarkably generous to hand out such a beautiful drink to plain soldiers and lingered just long enough to toast him; others never even hesitated, but sent it home with a greeting and a gurgle. At the next stop, Robbie started down the line to collect his liquor, but was out of luck. 'Must have been the next car, Lieutenant,' was his reception. 'Come on, boys, come across,' he would hopefully call at the doors in turn-, but his language sounded like Chinese."

Still blithe and carefree, the boys alighted at Mortcerf, to billet for a night in the neighborhood of Moroux, all unmindful of the thrill awaiting them.

THE Americans had been tearing up the Chateau Thierry salient like a bunch of wildcats. Quoting from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, "they had broken down the morale of the Germans, squeezed them out and were driving the Huns before them with a dash that would not be denied. Jerry was moving back so fast that the divisions trailing him were exhausted, having given of their best until it was only the spirit which held them together. The 4th Division had relieved the 42d and taken up the advance through the Foret de Nesle. It had pressed madly on against stubborn, deadly, machine gun resistance, and had forced the fighting to the banks of the Vesle."

Through St. Thibaut, across the river and into the city of Bazoches they had advanced, there to be overwhelmed by everything the Germans could pour down upon their heads from the precipitous hill rising out of the disputed city. Companies of the 4th which had ventured over the river never returned, and their dead still lay in the burning sun of No Man's Land, unburied. On the southern bank of the river, the American line had stabilized, leaving the "Hell hole of the Vesle " strewn with the bodies of friend and foe alike. To reach them was out of the question.

Quoting again, " the hold of the 4th Division, its ranks so sadly and terribly depleted, was getting very tenuous. Relief must come at once, for there was danger that at any moment the enemy might learn of the thin American ranks; he had complete domination of the air," their planes not only observing uninterruptedly all movement, but cooperating with the artillery by spotting targets and dropping air bombs at will. That Division was practically shot to pieces when the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry, vanguard of the 77th Division, swept into Fere en Tardenois.

The 77th was through with its training; it was to be thrown into the breach with a suddenness that left no time for deliberation or conjecture or for screwing the courage to the sticking point. It was to essay the task of veteran fighting troops at a most important point though untried and untested to oppose the most efficient fighting force the German war machine could present.

On Saturday, August 10th, captains were moved to ask their companies to forgive them for anything unpleasant that might have happened in the past. Rush orders had come in, to supply the men with all the ammunition they could crowd upon their person and to be ready to move at any minute. Marching, this time, was too slow. Into motor trucks we crushed, thinking of all the stories read in the past, of soldiers being rushed into the thick of it by motor. These were painted the horizon blue of France, but recognized as an American product, driven by little brown devils called Annamites. Backward along the dusty route, there stretched out in the distance, as far as the eye could reach, the seemingly endless motor train as it twisted in and out, up hill and down dale, over shell-torn, traffic -laden roads. Grim jest and a pathetic effort at skylarking which characterized, the morning hours gave way to solemn looks after the passage through battered Chateau Thierry. There were the trampled wheat fields through which mad American soldiers had forced the advance, making veterans of four years fighting gasp over their seeming disregard of an enemy's murderous machine guns. There was the historic Marne, deep and swift and blue, and the bridges, which had cost American engineers so dearly to build. The route lay through Fere en Tardenois, where another frightful struggle had taken place, and beyond it as night came on, to the Foret de Nesle, where we debussed and made tracks for the concealing forest.

To the north could be heard the muffled roar of heavy artillery, and we realized that things were about to happen. Some there were who had lost blood brothers in that fighting and who were anxious to be avenged; all knew that the gentle days of the Lorraine Sector were past and gone; but they glowed as how "fight" was painted all over 'em.

The woods that night, so dense and black that a hand could not be seen before the face, reeked of horrid, ghastly smells. The men had all been warned that there was likelihood of a gas attack, and in consequence precipitated a series of nervous alarms, ere the morning light revealed disgusting evidences of the Germans' hurried evacuation. An M Company officer awoke to find close beside him the half-buried body of a dead Boche whose hand stuck straight up out of the soil like a signpost. There were uncounted thousands of shell, mutely testifying to the enemy's utter lack of intention to have quit the area without a grim struggle. Illimitable quantities of discarded equipment, rifles and helmets lay all about; letters, postcards, belts of machine gun bullets, gas shells, Very lights and bags of " kriegs tabac, " which con-sisted of chopped oak and beech leaves.

While the chaplains next day, Sunday, heard confession, comforted, encouraged, counseled, received trinkets, keepsakes and other prized personal possessions, and pocketed the numerous in-case-I-never-can-write-again letters, and while the lieutenants made sure that the helmets, gas-masks, rifles, bayonets, ammunition, bombs and stretchers were all present or accounted for, company and battalion commanders went forward to have a peep, bringing back depressing and sobering tales. There were no trenches. The positions we would move into, under shell fire, were nothing more than fox-holes dug here and there along a roadside, in the lee of any slight rise of ground, or in a railroad bank. A certain message sent back to one of the companies did not especially improve the morale of the men who heard it; it ran something like this: "The dugouts are mere holes in the ground. You will be shelled morning, noon and night with shrapnel and high explosive, and during the intervals between shelling, they will throw gas at you."

Directly following this announcement, one battalion started filing past another which was still lined up along the roadside. The air was tense. "My God!" a doughboy was heard to exclaim. "Look at that major's face."

Before starting off for the relief at eight o'clock that night, every man five paces from the one in front and single file, every rifleman carrying in addition to his full pack two extra bandoliers of calibre .30 ammunition, the autoriflemen dragging an extra musette of Chauchat ammunition, all were cheerfully and generally warned that they would doubtless be shelled on the way to their positions and that any casualties were to be left for the Sanitary Detachment to discover and pick up. Great for morale!

It was a tumultuous taking over of the lines. By devious shell-torn roads and lanes, through woods and muddy fields, the way led north toward the river, past a battery of naval guns whose sudden belching almost blew the wits out of us. Behind Les Pres Farm, where Regimental Headquarters was to make its stormy rendezvous, on the steep and slippery road, units of the 306th were encountered marching in double file. Back and forth in the inky ravine the hopeless jumble of troops buckled and filled, while all around us landed high explosive. Soon the pungent odors of mustard gas-to some it smelled like crushed onions-smote the nostrils for the first time. It was a wild night. The Third Battalion finally got into wretched Ville Savoye, on a forward slope running down toward the river and facing the Boches; but the greater part of the Second lay for hours on a hillside under the belching guns of the Corps Artillery, lost, without maps, without guides, without instructions. In the darkness and confusion the column had broken-a thing to be feared during any relief. Major Dall, his guides, his Headquarters Detach-ment and a half platoon of -G ' Company had hurried serenely on, blissfully ignorant of the circumstance in rear, while the offending parties who had lost contact were severely reviled by their leaders, and scouts sent out into the night. At four o'clock, just as dawn was silhouetting the gaunt ruins of St. Thibaut, CY Company hove into position on the right of the town, and the platoons of H Company struggled down the sunken road leading into the village, hurrying into position before the movement should be clearly visible to the observant Boches. Past the little brick house on Dead Man's Corner, around which the bullets whistled night and day, and into their several positions they crept.

The Regiment took over a sector extending from well to the left of St. Thibaut to the Chateau Diable, the left of the line confronting Bazoches, one of the most sadly wrecked towns imaginable. The Third Battalion was on the right, the Second on the left, F Company crossing the river and finding meagre shelter under the railroad track west of Bazoches. Because four regiments had not been able to make parallel advances by motor, and because there was not time for an instant's delay in strengthening the front, the Three Hundred and Fifth alone took over the entire sector of the exhausted 4th Division. After twenty-four hours in close support, the First Battalion went in on the extreme right, taking over a piece from the 28th Division.

Jerry had opened up with his usual nightly entertainment. All the boys of A Company but one seemed to need no further encouragement to dive into their funk holes, The little fellow "got his wind up" a bit and ran to his Corporal exclaiming, "What shall I do? What shall I do?" The squad leader poked his head out above the rim of the hole just long enough to say, "Do the same as I'm doing, you damn fool. Say your prayers!"

How those Regulars scrambled out of their holes, the relief complete, minus equipment, caring only that their task for the moment was through! H Company took over a position theoretically held by two of their companies which together could then only muster fifty-seven effective men. Right then and there, our boys exchanged their service rifles for the lighter Springfields, with which the Regulars had been equipped. Materiel of all sorts which had been stripped from the dead and wounded lay about in quantity.

This position outdid even our worst dreams. On that forward slope, there was no protection whatsoever from shell and machine gun fire in moving from one platoon to another. All day long, the " ash cans ... .. iron cigars" and "Minnies" came tumbling into Ville Savoye and St. Thibaut, while the famous sniping piece of the Austrians, the 88, played incessantly. Ordinarily, there is time to flop on the ground or otherwise dodge the oncoming shell, the screaming whine of which is heard overhead for a considerable interval ere the explosion. Some of them even seem to float aloft and to hang there, as if contemplating where to make a big killing. It is said that one doesn't hear the shell that kills him. But the 88 or "whizz-bang" is different, and by far the most terrifying of all. Its flat trajectory and high velocity make it a large calibre rifle, with which moving trucks or even individuals are often sniped. So fast does the shell travel that the explosion is practically coincident with the whine. There is no time to dodge. The boys were later much amused at a definition of "whizz-bang" which appeared in the Bulletin published by the Regimental Auxiliary. "The whizz-bang, it said nonchalantly, "is a small shell, making a peculiar sound!"

By some lucky mischance, shells seemed to avoid the portals of house No. 13 in St. Thibaut, in the shallow cellar of which H Company made its P. C. Into the small, littered courtyard vagrant ammunition and ration- carrying details would scurry for shelter, though of actual protection there was none. Thither the rattling hand-drawn limber would clatter at twilight down the sunken road and draw up with a flourish, much to the consternation of the company commander, who didn't want all the Boches in the world to think it the hub of the universe.

Although it was almost believed that the Germans were sparing, as an artillery aiming point, the few remains of the church tower which stood between that building and the front, and that in consequence it escaped destruction, a more solid though more damp old wine cellar was found in the lee of the crumbling church in which to establish the telephones, and to measure out the orders as they came through. This was taken over and later used by the several companies which in turn occupied that position,

There had been accidents and minor casualties within our ranks before this time. But here we really began to see our brothers in arms falling beside us. The first sight of a bleeding arm or a wounded shoulder was startling enough. But when, for instance, one first saw a Minnenwerfer drop its tremendous charge in the sand bank just above the point where several comrades had dug for protection, burying all, mangling two of them beyond recognition, a shiver ran through the heart. One knew then what war could be.

It had been a popular superstition that soldiers new to the dirtier side of the game would somehow be initiated into it gradually, perhaps by brigading small units with experienced troops for a while. Yet, here were men who had never experienced a barrage, or a gas attack, or seen a man shot down or blown to atoms-men who had no means of knowing, aside from their own spirit of determination, whether or not as a body they could play to a finish a game at which veterans have been known to lose. Given the most important task of their lives, these boys simply had to do without question of failure or doubt of success the difficult job assigned to them. Yet everything was so new, and they so untried! They had much to learn, and had to learn it all at once.

"Dutch" Richerts, early in the game, found out what a " dud" was; one passed so close to his ear that it knocked him flat, scaring him so that he talked Bohemian for fifteen minutes without realizing it. Folks had talked about shell splinters. The platoon sergeants of I Company stood near the funk hole of the company commander to receive instructions. A high explosive shell burst about five hundred yards away. Thirty seconds later, something was heard to fall near the funk hole. They dug a ragged ten-pound chunk of red hot iron out of the earth. Splinters!

"Iron maidens," huge trench mortar shells with steel fins to maintain correct position during flight, had been lobbing over into the portion of the river bank held by the First Battalion. Soon the air was streaked with an unholy flickering of streaming lights, like an army of racing fireflies gone mad. Few had even heard of phosphorized cartridges, or tracer bullets. One swarthy little Italian, horrified and indignant, crept over to his corporal to say, "Gee, Corp, dey shoota da redda hot bullets! "

We had heard before about shelling; but here we made its acquaintance. The German knew every foot of the ground like a book, and he read every topographical line of it again and again, his artillery observers wearing their keenest spectacles. He threw at us everything but his own trenches, and yet the men found courage to joke and jest about their horrible experiences.

Corporal Kelly of K Company was hit, but he still wore his Irish smile. "Jim," he called. "Come over here a minute. Take this message and send it for me." And then like the tired businessman he dictated to his stenographer while Jim wrote: "Somewhere in France. To Mr. Kelly of Buffalo. Died happy. Dennis." Jim and Denny both laughed heartily -, and a few days later, back in the hospital, Dennis died.

Dead bodies lay in some instances just beyond our parapets; an effort to reach them would have been madness. Dead horses lay in the streets insufficiently covered by fallen masonry. The burying details were terrible, the men wearing gas masks. Some bright youth discovered that the work on dead horses could be speeded up, a smaller hole being necessary if the legs of the beasts were sawed off. Flies, naturally, were hideously thick, penetrating even to the blackest depths of a damp cellar. They swarmed into the " chow," on account of which, the men at first might have left it untouched. But hunger is no chum of fastidiousness. Presently, it was considered no hardship at all patiently to pick the frolicsome fly out of the mess kit. The atmosphere reeked in the sultry sun of terrible carrion odors, burnt powder, mustard gas, sneezing gas and dust.

Little wonder that on a diet of "goldfish," flies and water the men really suffered from dysentery. It is reported that an officer hoped to get a wound stripe for cutting his finger opening a can of salmon. Well, he deserves a wound stripe for eating salmon. A quantity of the salmon and gas-soaked bread had been left by the units relieved, and for a time the Quartermaster Department seemed unable to offer anything but fish as the meat component. Water was difficult to get. The water points of St. Thibaut were very soon shelled out, which necessitated fetching from a stream that ran through the bloody fields. Fish and sunshine made it almost impossible to exist on one canteenful a day. Into Ville Savoye the Germans poured a constant stream of machine gun fire, sneezing gas and high explosive, and rained shrapnel into the water points at intervals of about every two minutes. A man would rush to the fountain immediately after a shell-burst, hang a pail on the spout and retire, then run out again to retrieve the pail after the next burst. Safe in the back areas, a Corps inspector sought to raise Hob with someone, when it was admitted that Lyster bags of cool chlorinated water were not hanging out under the trees where the men might conveniently use them!

In the Mairie of Ville Savoye still hung a list of the five remaining civilians whose actions had been closely observed by the Boches. Much of the wheat had been harvested by the enemy; gardens were in full bloom. Immense piles of firewood were stacked high against the coming of winter. The houses, terribly shattered, had been hastily ransacked, the furniture ruthlessly smashed; on the floors were litters of family records and correspondence, tintypes, and photographs of self-conscious brides and bridegrooms. Out of a great hall clock the brass works had been taken and done up into a neat bundle-but forgotten in the hasty retirement. German signposts were at every crossroad, the fountains marked "Trinkwasser." The Third Battalion, occupying this village and the terrain in front, had decided in, the worst position, being subject to constant observation and machine gun fire. Battalion Headquarters functioned with difficulty in the cellar of an old house forward of the village church in which were found bodies of an American lieutenant and several men, dead for some time, and impossible to bury on account of the shelling. The entrance to the First Aid station in an abandoned wine cellar at the edge of the town was exposed to rifle fire. Dr. Luther J. Calahan was in this meagre retreat administering to a number of wounded when shells struck the building, setting fire to the roof, imprisoning him for a time under the burning rafters. But though under constant fire, he and his assistants barricaded the entrance with stretchers, quelled the flames and saved his men.

A letter written by the adjutant of the First Battalion gives a vivid picture of the situation in this town:

" The Boches kept shelling it continually; they had perfect observation of our movements from their positions. Every fifteen minutes during the day they would throw over three shells, taking the town bit by bit. When any one appeared on the street they gave us a little extra, although I must say they left our ambulances alone except when they thought we were using them for covering some tactical move. Our headquarters was in the cellar of a former French residence. I was no sooner inside than they shot away the wall in front and a couple of hours later they took off the corner of the building. They were giving us a liberal dose of gas all the while-it was very uncomfortable sitting packed tight in this cellar with our gas masks on, studying maps, writing messages and trying to get an answer over the phone. The gas seemed to linger more than we had expected. We discovered soon that part of what we thought was gas was the fragrance of six dead Americans in the yard next door. Poor devils. The shelling had been so hot that nobody had had a chance to bury them. Toward noon we had our first casualty. Lieut. Clokey with two runners came from his company headquarters to report their position to the major. The Boches dropped a shell beside him, which tore off part of his face and killed one of his runners. Clokey came staggering into our little cellar and we patched him up crudely with our first-aid packets. Then I ventured out with him to the First Aid station and he was evacuated that afternoon. (He came back to the regiment later with a brand new piece of face and looking not very much the worse for his misfortune.)

"The next day we moved our headquarters to a ravine about 300 yards outside the town. Although it was wide open to the sky, this was a more comfortable spot. Each of us dug a hole in the side of the ravine, and for an office we had a piece of corrugated iron for a roof and camouflaged it with bushes. As we had to be constantly going and coming, it didn't take the Boche long to discover our new location. From that moment he included us in his strafing of the town, but our ravine was so small and the sides so steep that he couldn't quite get us. His shells would drop on each lip of the ravine, but he never got more than a fragment of shell into the ravine itself, although he gave us plenty of gas. His airplanes were what we feared most. "

Gradually the rations were amplified by the arrival of hardtack, corn syrup, a little jam, a few canned beans, raw coffee and sugar. Still the salmon. To cook anything, to raise a smoke, or make a light was out of the question.

-Except once: Early in the morning, after Dr. Calaban and his wounded had been nearly burned out of the First Aid Post, McDonald and Eidlen, cooks of First Battalion Headquarters, ventured down to the burning building and made a dozen canteens full of steaming coffee over the glowing rafters. They outwitted the Boches and gave Battalion Headquarters their first hot food in five days.

A grimy private made his way to a lieutenant with the complaint: "They've got some raw bacon down there, but won't issue it."

"Would you care to eat raw bacon?

"Yes, Sir. "

"Raw? You know, it can't be cooked here."

" Yes, Sir. "

"Well-if you can eat raw bacon, I guess there's no reason why you shouldn't." And he did-they all did, and smacked their lips over it.

If the doughboy stopped to think at all about the quantity of stuff needed to keep him going, and of the amount his company needed, he realized what the Supply Company, making a constant effort to serve the Regiment in this regard, had to accomplish. He appreciated more than ever the old canned beef. This touching eulogy, which appeared in the Stars and Stripes we read a few days later, back at Mareuil en Dole:

0 remnant of wrecked flesh, rent and torn asunder!

Howe'er do we digest thy potency-I wonder?

Greedily we eat thee hot or cold or clammish;

How welcomely thou thuddest on the mess-tins of the famished!

0 leavings of the jackals' feast! 0 carrion sublime!

However much we scoff at thee we eat thee every time-Corned Willie!

There were no serious kicks about the meagreness or the strangeness of the rations - that was all in the game, and relief would come soon. A good batch of cigarettes would have been a happy thought; but the famous front echelon of the Y. M. C. A. was not personally represented. Wait, though! Some battered cookies and a few cigarettes were sent up on a ration carrying party, to be sold!

The only real complaint was the result of the Germans' uninterrupted, undisputed supremacy of the air. The men had to grit their teeth while planes darted overhead, raked the positions with machine gun fire, threw hand grenades even, spotted batteries and unloaded their bombs. Some of the bomb holes on the riverbank were large enough to bury a whole platoon. This, despite the reassuring utterances from the rear to the effect that American and French airmen dominated the situation. It was some department far in rear, too, which discovered at a time when the bullets whistled merrily through our positions that the enemy had withdrawn, and ordered out daylight patrols on the afternoon of the 13th. Lieutenant Peter Wallis and eight men swam the Vesle to see. Only one of the party was ever heard from again, a sergeant wounded and taken prisoner.

Private McGee, of F Company, writes of several patrols:

" From somewhere on the right, a bunch of machine guns used to enfilade us every night. We figured that the Germans couldn't stay there all day long, and so Captain Eaton picked a desperate bunch of Indians, ten of the wildest men he could find in the company, to go out and locate the gun positions and the places where the Germans hung out during the day. There were twelve in the party, all armed to the teeth. We started out before dark for the purpose of getting there ahead of the enemy and, if possible, to see what holes he crawled out of, and to watch them take up their positions. It's hard to let a Boche crawl by without taking a pot shot at him but you know that if you let him go, he's sure to give away a gun position.

"In order to get there without being seen, we had to travel several hundred yards through a big swamp that was all chewed up by shells and the mud up to your neck in places. At the end of this swamp we struck a suspicious-looking place where there were several dugouts from which telephone wires ran up into a tree that might have been used for an observation post. We figured that our German friends might live in there, so we took an unhealthy position on the edge of the swamp and watched.

"In this way we gradually located six gun positions, but the Boche suddenly located us and acted as if he thought a general attack was coming over, because he opened up a young hell in the filthy swamp with all the machineguns and some of his artillery with gas, high explosive and shrapnel. We couldn't go through it, so Bob Farmer placed his men and said, "You hang on here no matter what happens." That was nine P. M. and we had no overcoats and the night was cold; and sitting in the mud and cold did not feel like the first row in the Winter Garden. Here we lay under almost continuous artillery fire, with plenty of gas that don't smell very sweet, until about 4.30 A. M.,, and that was the time that old Jerry sure opened every gun he had on the swamp. We just laid there and gasped for breath, and our dream of Hoboken was starting to evaporate, and we were wishing we were back with the company once more, praying our 304th, 305th and 306th Artillery would open all together and blow the Boches to Hell.

" At 5.15 he swung his barrage over to our company position, but he kept looking at us out of the comer of his eye all the time. We figured this would be as good a time as any to work our way back to the company and wondered if there would be anything left of it when we got there. We got near the old trenches and sent out a scout, who said the company was 0. K. We were happy but so exhausted we had to lay there half an hour before starting to crawl in one by one. The captain was amazed to see us back alive and thanked us for finding six enemy gun positions for the artillery to blast out. For our reward we received a full cup of coffee per man, thus beating Osfeld's patrol by half a cup."

An interesting account of a reconnaissance patrol characteristic of many sent out to gain information of the enemy's positions and suspected movements follows:

"We were under almost constant machine gun fire, without knowing absolutely where it came from. 'Mac,' said the Top, about four o'clock, 'how do you feel? Bloodthirsty?'

"'Anything you say.'

"'Then you're going out tonight with Osfeld, Soufflas and Corporal Schwartz to find where those guns are.'

"At eleven o'clock we gulped a bit, saying 'So long!' to our pals ', and crawled over the top toward the German lines about two hundred yards away. The shells fell pretty thick while we were crawling over badly chewed-up ground that smelt gas soaked; and the German flares made us duck and lie quiet every few feet.

"About a hundred and fifty yards out, I should say, we heard what sounded like a bird whistle close by; we decided that no birds would be out at midnight and besides, they don't like high explosive. So we lay quiet like cats watching a mouse. Presently we heard the steel click of a cartridge belt being fitted into a 'typewriter.' They must have seen us, sure. But just then two Boches darted from behind an old tree stump, running up to the position with ammunition boxes. From there they ran back to a corner of the chateau where another 'typewriter' started chattering. We could hear the Huns in front of us whispering and tinkering with their gun, so we decided to make a getaway, having spotted three guns.

" Our knees were very sore from the rough ground and Osfeld said, 'What do you say we hike a bit?' I said, 'Anything you say, Phil,' and the quartet decided to run about twenty feet, then flop, listen and run again. At last we tumbled over the parapet, and reported the two guns, which our 75's blew out in the morning."

Four days and nights the Regiment stood up under its first severe punishment, the only reinforcements a live mule salvaged by E Company. The Germans seemed to know that the relief was due, and early in the evening of the 15th commenced pouring a steady stream of gas and metal into the American lines. It was a peculiarity of Ville Savoye, which they knew full well, that gas would linger in and about the village as in a pocket. They filled it full, particularly the sunken road leading therefrom and the areas behind the town. There was no wind to disperse the fumes. In the early hours of the morning men were feeling the effects despite the use of masks, all but ten of M Company's entire personnel being evacuated for mustard burns about the body and the eyes. Then and there, they adopted as their company song, Too Much Mustard. By daylight, the relieving company of the 308th Infantry found their way into the town, practically all of them being evacuated later that day as a result of coming in contact with the mustard gas.

The relief of the battalion was not completed until the following night. As Companies I, K and L left their positions, they came into the gas-infected areas and many of them were also burned. All in all, the battalion sustained about four hundred casualties.

.Again, quoting from the letters of Captain Kenderdine, then Adjutant of the First Battalion:

"According to schedule, we were to be relieved at the end of the fifth day-, but the relieving battalion failed to get us on two successive nights and we were kept there seven days. Our supply of rations ran out at the end of the fifth day, and for two days we had virtually nothing to eat except a little that I managed to bring in on my way back on the last day. On the night before the seventh day the relieving battalion managed to get to our positions, but not until dawn. We tried to risk getting out even then, but to get out in daylight one was under constant observation, as the hillsides were almost bare. We sent out one company over the hill at about seven A. M., but they got pretty badly shot at, so the major wisely ordered the rest of the battalion to stand pat. By that time they had started to go out and had pulled out of their positions in the valley. The only thing to do was for them to come into the ravine (which was at the base of the hill) until dark. This they did, and three-quarters of a battalion sat huddled in the ravine all day, praying that our luck would hold good and that the Boches would fail to register on the ravine itself.

"The major was naturally worried by the battalion not having got out. So I took a staunch little Irish boy as orderly and we made a dash for it over the hill and back to Regimental Headquarters with a report of our situation. Instead of being angry at our failure to get out during the night the Colonel was all sympathy. He took me in to report to the General. He pressed me to stay for luncheon, but I had only time for a cup of coffee and a sandwich (and Lord, how good it tasted!). Then I went to the Y. M. C. A. hut and bought all the cigarettes, chocolates and crackers they would sell me. The Colonel loaded me up with canned food and hardtack, and I made my way back to Battalion Headquarters, where I was welcomed with open arms and immediately relieved of my bag of food.

We all came out that night at dusk. Not a shot was fired. The men took off their packs on the main road beyond the crest of the hill. On that first trip to the lines they had carried everything they owned. I bad been fortunate enough to arrange for four big trucks to come up that night and transport these packs to the rear. It was lucky I did, for the men were almost utterly exhausted. I stayed behind to supervise the loading of the packs and then rode out on one of the trucks. I was almost all in when I sat down on the soft leather seat by the driver. I immediately fell asleep, and one of my happiest moments in life was when some good soul of a Red Cross man stopped the truck in a village we passed through and poured a large cup of rich chocolate down my throat. The Battalion had arrived at their rest bivouac before I did. My striker had found my bedding roll there and spread it out under a tree. Never was any bed so comfortable. The Major, bless his heart!-gave orders that I shouldn't be awakened, and I slept for twenty hours straight."

There were no irregularities in that first relief of the Second Battalion- nothing but the ordinary casualties and plenty of excitement. Shells fell thick and fast, while machine gun bullets rattled through the streets of St. Thibaut spattering savagely on stone walls. "Just take a look at this," said Captain Dodge, from the entrance to the old wine cellar. Over to the eastward billowing smoke and a flame-hued sky silhouetted the spectral walls of the ruined town. Spiteful bursts of rifle and machine gun fire and a thundering barrage could heard both right and left, earth rocking explosions and, comforting through it all, the scream of our own shells, five for one, winging northward. One recalled Alan Seeger's lines:

I have a rendezvous with death At midnight,. in some flaming town."

Somehow in the darkness groping figures found their new places, while shadowy forms in single file hastened into the gas-filled, shell-torn road, hug-ging the comforting embankments, walls and ridges, ready to flop whenever a screaming whine came too close. No fear of the men losing contact! Jerry dropped a few 77's on the tail of the disappearing column and although the pace was increased to about four miles an hour, they miraculously closed up. Out of the darkness came a clattering team of runaway mules hitched to a limber, headed straight for the front lines, crashing into the column of struggling men, bruising and breaking bones. Anon, the cry of " Gas" as the head of the column would strike a pocket of it. Here and there an overturned wagon, supplies scattered bewilderingly over the road, the slain animals cast into the ditch. The hills above Chery-Chartreuve belched forth their constant fireworks, deafening those plodding past who felt sure that by the fitful glare they stood revealed to German gunners. It was Hell let loose. Toward Mareuil, the roads seemed hopelessly jammed with artillery trains, camions, field pieces, grunting and clanking tractors prying the " heavies " into positions where whole companies of artillerymen were sweating with pick and shovel against the oncoming dawn. Here and there a ruined truck blown across the road blocked the path temporarily, adding to the general confusion.

On this terrible night, the men of the Sanitary Detachments proved their mettle. Seemingly always forgotten when general orders were issued, " boarding " at whoever's kitchen happened to be nearest to their station, never receiving very much publicity, they were always there with the big, fat pack and quick to respond to pathetic cries of "First Aid!" During the relief, Privates Coorman, Giordano and Liebman were the last to leave St. Thibaut in the heavy concentration of gas and high explosive. Proceeding slowly along the road, they searched all the dugouts and funk holes, picking up wounded and gassed men. It was impossible to see with masks on, due to the heavy smoke. With just the mouthpiece and nose-slip adjusted, they continued their work, gathering together twelve wounded and gassed men who otherwise would have in all probability remained there until the next day. As only one ambulance was available, it was necessary for them to remain on the road for three hours until all the wounded could be evacuated. It took four stormy trips to and from Chery-Chartreuve to accomplish this. And then, although exhausted from the work and lack of sleep and sick from the effects of gas, they reported at noon of the next day, to assist in treating the casualties from Ville Savoye, persisting in refusing hospital treatment inasmuch as they were temporarily the only Sanitary Corps men available. Their work in this instance is typical of the devoted, self-sacrificing service rendered to their brothers in the Regiment all through our battle experiences.

Here you are, all of a sudden, in your allotted portion of the Bois de Mareuil, loafing, eating to make up for last week, shaving, taking your shoes off for the first time in eight days, and daring again to think of home. Where are those "in case" letters? Tear them up! Here is the long-delayed incoming mail! Old copies of the Saturday Evening Post! Pay-to gamble with. A little water to bathe in. Plenty of warm sunlight by which to "read your shirts." The woods are all cluttered up with the gas-burned, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and you are prompted to recount your own terrible expe-riences: how, for instance, to rest your weary legs by the roadside you sat down-in a little pocket of mustard; how, when you turned to the man sitting beside you to say, "Buddy, give me a drink," he didn't reply. He sat there dead.

Next morning you discover that the rest isn't to be all idleness; you dig a system of support trenches and reserve trenches, while others at the front are taking up their share of the dirty work. After a brief period of days you move up into the woods behind St. Thibaut perhaps, in support, there to grub in the sand all day and dodge shells all night. From there you move on up, for your second tour of duty at the front, this time less awed by what the Boche flings over, and hearing a fervently expressed desire "to take that hill! "

During this time, when companies skipped from " red " line to " green line to " blue " line and back to " red " again, feeling like a bunch of darned chameleons, first in brigade reserve, then regimental support, then division reserve, regimental reserve and so on, M Company comprised a body of forty stalwart vacationists, thoroughly familiar with the care and handling of horses. They had just returned from the horse-buying detail, to find practically the entire company, in the hospitals.

During the month of August the French under General Mangin began to exert a flanking pressure up in the northwest and the 77th Division, more used to the bitter fighting, increased its frontal pressure. In the words of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, "it could be seen that they were growing uneasy and it was important to establish the extent of the uneasiness-to learn if they were preparing to evacuate.

"One of the great feats of the war resulted. Major William Mack, who was at that time a 1st Lieutenant in command of G Company, Three Hundred and Fifth, and 1st Lieutenant Leonard Cox, then 2d Lieutenant of B Company, Three Hundred and Fifth, volunteered to lead a patrol over the river in broad daylight to establish just what the situation was. They took ten other volunteers of Companies B and C of the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry, Sergeant John Blohm, Corporal Peter J. Kiernan, Corporal Solomon Catalano, and Privates Frederick Barth, Clarence H. Koehler, Raphael Cohan, Vincent Bisignano, Frederick M. Meury and Joseph Bridgeman. The party left the village of St. Thibaut in broad daylight.

"At the Vesle, Mack left the others and swam across. Cox followed, carrying a heavy coil of rope. He crawled out into the river on sunken logs and other debris until he was up to his armpits in the swift flowing stream. Then, after repeated attempts, he managed to throw an end of the rope across to Mack, who fastened it on the other side. All of the patrol got across the river by means of the rope. On the other side, the patrol was divided into two parties of five men each, Mack taking one and Cox the other.

"Mack and his men went into the village of Bazoches, making their way past the enemy outposts and getting along finely until they surprised four Germans in an old house. Mack and his patrol got the jump on the Germans, killed several of them and withdrew, fighting desperately all the while, although under heavy machine gun fire. All of the party except Sergeant Blohm were wounded, Koehler and Cohan mortally. All of them made good their with-drawal, Mack having secured much valuable information.

"On the way out, Sergeant Blohm took shelter in a shell hole and saw Corporal Catalano, bleeding profusely from a wound in the neck, just barely able to drag himself along through the grass. Blohm promptly left his shelter, carried Catalano behind a tree near the river, there dressed his wound, and then broke boughs from a fallen tree so as to make a raft. On this improvised raft he placed Catalano and pulled him across the river. Arriving on the other side, he carried Catalano over an open field fully 200 vards to the outpost line, all of the time being under continuous rifle and machine gun fire. And Sergeant Blohm had two brothers who were fighting in the German Army!

"Lieutenant Cox, meanwhile, had led his part of the patrol into the chateau where he shot down two men as they were about to open fire on his men. He wounded another, and the party decided it was time to move. Although German machine gun and rifle fire fairly blasted the air, the entire patrol got out without a man being injured and got back to their own lines.

"The commander of the Third Army Corps, to which the 77th was attached, recommended all of the men in the patrol for a citation, and Mack. Cox and Blolun were awarded the Distinguished Service Cross."

But on the next morning, September 4th, Lieutenant De Rharn and a patrol of thirty men from C Company swam the river and with slight opposition gained & heights beyond, from which point their rocket signal "Objective reached" precipitated a general advance.

The Division was on its way to the Aisne.

CHAPTER VI

THE ADVANCE TO THE AISNE

THE Second Battalion had been relieved again, dragging its weary feet back to Mareuil en Dole all through the night of September 1st, moving on backward the following night through Nesle to Sergy, twenty kilos from the front. "Next morning, we started in before breakfast to pick cooties from our clothes by the hundreds, to splash in the River Ourcq, a dinky stream hardly big enough to hold a fish, and to lie around naked in the grass. First call for drill blew. We cursed like Bowery hoboes for we were tired, and they were starting to hand out their dizzy orders to drill. All we wanted was an opportunity to write home; but no chance, as they figured on getting all the work they could out of us. That was unfair, for we done our work well and figured we earned a rest for all the stuff that was pulled off up on the Vesle."

The night of the 3d the tired troops were roused from their slumbers by a stirring, Call to Arms. Messengers ran up with orders to roll combat packs and be ready to move out at a moment's notice. After waiting interminably, an officer hiked to Battalion Headquarters for further instructions, only to find the entire establishment sound asleep.

But by noon of the following day, it was rumored that the German was on the run. Off to the northward packed the troops in haste, picking up rations, ordnance and ammunition amidst all the hustle and bustle and flurry at Nesle. As far as the old positions at Mareuil en Dole the columns struggled under a broiling sun, only to be ordered onward to the Bois de Mareuil, where every man got two hand grenades, ammunition for rifle, pistol and Chauchat, and the weighty old rifle grenades. The tromblons or grenade dischargers were long since conveniently "lost" on account of their weight. But there was no rest for weary bodies. The other battalions had crossed the river, and this one must occupy a strong position in old St. Thibaut. There it rested for the night, thoroughly spent.

The success of de Rhara's patrol had sent the entire First Battalion under temporary command of Captain Purcell over the river to positions previously designated on the plateau to the north. The Third Battalion followed under command of Lieutenant Husband, Major Woodward having been evacuated, sick. An order to resume the advance kept the men on their feet most of the night. In skirmish line they ploughed around in circles, one company hopelessly lost, accomplishing an advance of about two kilometers.

How different St. Thibaut looked at dusk, as the Second Battalion filed through, even more crumpled and twisted than it had been three days before. Old Number Thirteen was still standing. But instead of shells crashing right and left, instead of the streets being deserted, here were columns of troops in single file, motor trucks, limbers, fourgons, ammunition trains boldly occupying avenues down which had poured streams of machine gun bullets, waist-high and whistling. There was the old First Aid station, now a pile of stone and dust, and the embankment where the first casualties had occurred; but the curiosity seekers were to be denied further reminiscent investigation. Enemy shelling had diverted traffic to the west over a hastily constructed bridge and through the old railroad yards where the 306th had a week before lost the better part of an entire company in attacking Bazoches. Here and there lay the dead of the previous month's fighting, although burying and salvaging parties had that day started a search and a cleaning up of the former No Man's Land.

The advance through Bazoches was as calm and quiet as the seventh inning of a world's series game at the Polo Grounds - there was shelling a little bit further up the river, the enemy having the wrong tip on our bridges. We crossed the battered railroad track behind which forward elements had once dug for protection, and which we secretly hoped the engineers would rapidly reconstruct so that we could use it soon when moving out to a rest area.

Skirting the town, other columns struggled through the jam of vehicular traffic to the Rheims-Rouen road, thence east and north around the base of the ominous hill which had confronted us for so many days, and from which the Germans had poured down on our heads a rain of machine gun bullets, " Minnies " and 88's. Full in the road lay the body of a German soldier -over which the trucks were passing, to and fro. "Ah" said the boys, "there's a good German!"

About ten kilometers for the most part a lofty plateau cleft at intervals by steep ravines-lay between St. Thibaut and the Aisne. Although the Germans were mighty anxious to reach the heights of the Chemin des Dames north of the Aisne, they sought to retard the advance of the Americans as, much as possible while defenses were being prepared. Their machine gun fire and heavy shellfire swept the heights over which the Regiment passed; yet casualties were comparatively slight.

Major Metcalf had rejoined and on the morning of the 6th constituted and held down the frontline all by himself. With a couple of runners he went forward of Vauxcere and Pincon Farm and located the large cave behind Longueval as a possible headquarters, sending back for his staff and corralling the scattered companies. It had been reported that the 307th had rapidly advanced beyond that point on the right - that the 28th Division, further to the right, had reached the Aisne-and " for God's sake, hurry up." They were nowhere near the river! The 307th was blocked at Petite Montagne. On our right, the "front" extended sharply to the southeast, leaving about three kilometers of flank exposed. Our sector stuck out like a sore thumb! D Company had been ordered into position to the right of Villers en Praye'res, and had sought shelter from a terrific burst of shelling in a small ravine where they were virtually imprisoned for several days. B Company entered the latter village and took position in the outskirts of it, A Company extending to the left. The Third Battalion was hurried into the breach offered by the exposed flank, unable to make much effective progress in the dead of night, but hoping to get there before the enemy could launch a counter attack, which would have been disastrous indeed for b Company in its precarious position.

At this juncture, a message came through from the French to the effect that they politely and earnestly hoped for the capture of Longueval. Major Metcalf sat calmly on a log several kilos beyond it. A few minutes before, the 1st sergeant and clerk of C Company had stumbled into it seeking shelter, and hoping to find some point where the affairs of the company might be administered. Since it was "held" by a 1st sergeant and a company clerk was it not proper to report the town as already captured by C Company?

"In this locality there were numerous excavations and old limestone quarries which afforded considerable shelter, although likely gas pockets. These positions were consolidated by additional digging, and the Regiment entered upon another period of semistabilized warfare, such as had been experienced on the Vesle, while our artillery crowding up from the rear grad-ually increased the din. Shelling, during the days and nights of the advance, and particularly after the Regiment had dug itself in, was at times of the most furious density. The German batteries would seem to let loose in all their power and shells would fall as fast as hundreds of guns, heavily concentrated, could drive them." The doughboy, while he knows that without friendly artillery his task would be considerably more difficult, can never overcome the feeling that he bears the brunt of the artillery duels. It is a case, he argues ., of the opposing artillery units saying, " I'll blow your infantry to bits while you try to bust mine."

The first real attack participated in by the Three Hundred and Fifth was disastrous. Company A had been ordered to advance on the morning of the 7th against machine gun outposts which lined the Aisne Canal, in conjunction with a parallel advance by elements of the 306th upon the immediate left. At five A. M. everything was in readiness for a six o'clock jump-off - but liaison failed. A countermanding order which subsequently came to the other regiment did not reach Lieutenant Dwyer, commanding Company A, in time. One of his platoons proceeded successfully over a stretch of exposed terrain before the rest of the company took up the advance. Immediately, the Germans who had perfect observation of the movement opened up from the left, the front and the right with everything they had-machine guns, trench mortars and " ' whizz-bangs." The company commander was killed, the only other company officer wounded, and many more grievous casualties sustained.

Without officers, the non-coms kept the company well in hand and held their gains until relief could be brought up at nightfall.

C Company went into that position. "Our first night was' ' you might say, tranquil,," one of its members writes. "We didn't know who was on the right nor who was on our left, nor just how many there were on our front. German flares appeared on three sides of us. But, aside from that, the constant shelling and the machine gun jabbering, we had not a thing to worry, about."

In Villers en Prayeres, the enemy persisted in shelling close to the company P. C., making it so uncomfortable that a change of headquarters was necessary. The street was termed "Shell Shock Alley" and it lived up to its reputation. Shelled out of that second place, they sought a third, finally doing a successful business in an old French sheet-iron dugout. During the day the men found not much to do, excepting to draw rations and avoid 88's, which came in more liberal doses than the rations. Back in the support positions of the Second Battalion near Pincon Farm, the shelling was just as heavy and just as constant. " Yet," said Captain Briggs, " I maintain that this helmet is no earthly good, whatsoever." That apparently ended the argument, for the Captain disappeared around an elbow of trench. At that instant, a shell burst on the parapet; in a moment, he staggered again into view with a dent in the top of his tin hat as big as your fist. "Beg pardon," he gasped; "you're right; I'm wrong."

Naturally, the runners who almost without exception proved themselves a game and loyal crew found their work in this situation particularly dangerous and difficult. The poor little devils not only had to carry messages back and forth, morning and night, always in readiness, but took their turn at carrying rations, standing gas guard through the night, and the like. When all is said and done, the runners perform one of the most difficult and important jobs the army in the field has to offer. Our hats are off to them.

Those who drove the ration carts up through Vauxcer6 at night under fire in an effort to bring hot food to the weary, mud-stained men in the trenches deserve their meed of praise as well. Despite their good work, supplies were often low. Beyond the support line at Pincon Farm everything had to be carried, in order to sustain those units feeling forward as far as the Aisne. A doughboy from D Company has a story to tell which he calls Fifty-fifty in the Front Lines: "During the advance, all we had in the line of eats was our iron rations, consisting of one can of beef and about half a pound of hardtack; our kitchens of course couldn't go right along with us. Yet, I was lucky enough to have grabbed off an extra can of beef. After I had shared this with two other men, I was stripped clean, as far as food was concerned. So were most of the others. But food has nothing to do with orders, so we were soon on our way forward again, without food. Later in the day I managed to get a few hardtack and half a canteen of water off a dead man. That night I received orders to report to Battalion Headquarters, to which I was sometimes attached as scout, and next morning I was handed a nice job-looking for one of the companies which hadn't been heard from for some time. Gosh, but I was hungry, yet I couldn't stop. After searching the ground ahead for about six hours, seeing no one but a German airman who kept me ducking, I landed up on the left of our sector, finding a captain of the 306th about to have something to eat in his cramped dugout. When I arrived on the scene, there were about three sardines and four hardtack. He must have noticed how I looked sideways at the ban-quet table, for he asked if I was hungry. I told him when I had eaten last, and be said, 'Well, I'll go you fifty-fifty,' and handed me a cracker with a fish on it. I got what dope he could give me, and we went up top to have a look around. And then to my surprise he added, You'd better go down and tackle another shark and a cracker before you go.' I had often read how officers got pretty familiar with the men in the trenches. He seemed on the verge of doing it so I risked slapping him on the back-and obeyed orders."

It was not long before the kitchens were herded under a shed at Vauxcere where cooks and " K. P.'s " ground out doughnuts, coffee and other good things, despite the shellfire. Even then, one never knew just when the next meal could be trundled up by a carrying party. "Sir," announced an orderly, poking his head around a traverse in the trench, "dinner is served ... .. What's on the menu today? " inquired the captain with an air. "Well, we have some very fine quail." Not quite, but almost! Spitted and neatly broiled over a can of solidified alcohol was a scrawny old nondescript bird which a runner had picked up on the trail, killed by a shell fragment.

The Third Battalion had taken over the front lines. Friday, the 13th, had been successfully tucked away without disaster, when 'long about the night of the 14th, came a welcome crowd of Italians trying to stuff both donkeys and drivers into the dugouts. They put six or seven men into a hole where two of us had felt crowded before, and left cabbage leaves, cheese rinds, and all sorts of garbage lying around.

"Relieved by the Roman Army, commanded by one of Old General Garibaldi's descendants," writes a doughboy. "They seemed to have precious little ammunition but lots of chow, which made them welcome. A very compact little army-men, mules, wagons, guns, everything all bunched up in the middle of the road as we had been taught not to do it. If Jerry had ever gotten a line on them and planted a few shells in their midst, Marc Antony would have had to write up another burial oration."

It was a ten-hour affair-that hike to the rear through Vauxcer6, Bazoches, St. Thibaut, Chery Chartreuve, Nesle and Sergy to Dravigny. But awaiting the boys were the old packs and real food; grape jam, cookies and oodles of cigarettes from the Auxiliary; again a stream to bathe in, good cover for the dog tents and a canteen in which to spend our pay. Lots of mail, too. The few officers and men who had to remain twelve hours to show the Italian relief the ins and outs of the old positions went bowling to the rear next day in a French motor, lorry, feeling as happy as if on the road from Camp Upton to New York. One could bask in the sun, finally out of shell fire, watching the old observation balloons lazily riding up in the north, though potted now and then by the impertinent German aeroplanes. "Had a young meal of beefsteak, potatoes, onions, coffee, bread, rice, crullers, jam and four cartons of cigarettes," boasted one of the grimi-est, lustiest boys ever seen. I et till I near bust."

" Save your money for the big town," was the word. The rumor spread that we were going into a rest area. The officers spread it. They announced it to cheering throngs. They got it straight from higher up.

It was even said we were going to parade triumphantly in Paris. Great was our happiness-for we thought we deserved a rest, having been under a continual nervous strain and worse since the latter part of June.

A day of inspection followed one night of undisturbed rest. At 4.35 a luscious meal was brewing merrily in the bursting kitchens, mess kits itching for the welcome thud of chow upon their brilliant inner surfaces. But, "The battalions will be ready to march with full equipment at 4.30," read the order which dumped both fires and food upon the unappreciative ground while mystified men rolled up their baggage in preparation for the gruelling dash to Cohan and Coulonges. But that was all right. Who wouldn't willingly sacrifice a dinner for the ride on lorries to " the big town? "

" We'll sing till the lorries arrive," said a bunch of men sitting by the roadside at half-past eight. They did - but throats were raw, and the songs they sang dated back to the days of " Bedelia " long ere one o'clock, at which hour the stream of dusty camions drew up. Those French drivers had not slept under a roof for eight days, they said, having transported troops from one part of France to another without rest. Their driving showed it. Without illumination of any kind, the trucks tore through the night. At dawn their speed in the direction of Verdun increased to the point of recklessness. Drivers dozed at the wheel and trucks collided, crushing the careless feet which hung over a tailboard; they ran into the ditch; they interviewed unyielding trees; one truck overturned, sending a couple of men with broken ribs to the hospital. Minor halts while in the districts of Champagne permitted hungry, thirsty men to leap from the camions for the pilfering of dusty grapes from vineyards bordering the road; but there ensued a race to make up for lost time. Through Epernay and Chalons the Americans were roundly cheered by old women and children who seemed to care not at all if someone vaulted the hedge to steal an apple, hitching on as best he might when a following truck swept by

To live in dog tents in a slippery, hilly pine grove near Viel Dampierre, which was probably never plotted on any living map, certainly did not resemble life in "the big town ... .. Red Mike" was scarcely proper food for a man oil vacation. To be ordered out for drill and at the same time warned to keep undercover suggested no proximity to a Rest Camp. "Somebody is dizzy," was the general verdict. Yet, there was still hope. Sudden ordrs arrived the night of the 19th not to turn in, but to strike tents at once. Then an order to pitch tents! With the tents going up and the rain coming down, another order to roll them tip again! At eleven o'clock the Regiment marched north.

"Where are we going now?" Corporals asked their sergeants, and sergeants asked their lieutenants. They, not knowing, asked the privates who get things by wireless. " Why, to the big town; St. Menehould is just north of here! " You should have seen the men hike! It was a cinch to keel) them from straggling-everyone in fine humor, believing that finally he was on the way to the rail head. In fine humor until the column struggled through St. Menehould without stopping.

This quite outdid anything previously suffered-even during the Battle of Watten. At 8.30 next morning, the Regiment hove into Neufour in two factions: the superhuman half of the Regiment, and the human half in charge of the provost guards. With blistered feet and aching bodies, a few found shelter; the others dropped from sheer exhaustion where halted in the street, despite the frantic protests of the French quartered there who feared that enemy planes would discover the advent of American troops in a sector new to them. War gardens were plundered, for nothing edible arrived until the middle of the afternoon. When Colonel Smedberg remarked at Brigade Headquarters that the troops were much too crowded to enjoy this rest area the answer was, "We go into the line tomorrow. "

That night we relieved the French, taking over all but the forward outposts, with heavy hearts.

CHAPTER VII

THE ARGONNE

THE Western Front, since the Autumn of 1914, bad been a great face protruding into France and frowning upon the Allied armies. The brow rested on the English Channel near Dunkerque, the features extending generally south to a point where the chin in September protruded as far as Noyon, in the direction of Paris. Thence the jaw ran eastward past Soissons and Rheims to Verdun, whence the neck was drawn southeast toward the quiet of the Lorraine front. What might have been likened to the Adam's apple had been painfully amputated at St. Mihiel by the first American Army early in the month of September.

That First American Army, of which the 77th Division was now a part, was to strike a blow at the jaw of the great German face. Since July 18th, the French, British, Americans and Belgians, under the general command of Marechal Foch, had been hammering the Boche on his soft spots, using up his reserve patience and strength. The time was ripe for a knockout blow on the jaw, the major objective being the railroads running through Mezieres to Metz and Luxembourg, one of the enemy's great supply routes.

The German front at this time has also been likened to a gigantic door, the hinges of it secured at Mezieres, swinging open at Belgium and the northern coast. As long as the hinges held, the great door might be closed in the face of an intruder. It was the task of the First Army to smash the hinges, and break down the door!

It did.

It was not until the night of September 25th, as the First and Second Battalions were quietly taking their places at the jump-off on the Le Four de Paris-La Fille Morte line that we realized our show was to be only a part of the greatest battle of the war. From Verdun to the Belgian Coast the Allied armies were to attack. Stunned by surprise and the savagery of that initial onslaught in the morning fogs of September 26th the foe recoiled, though fighting tenaciously, bitterly, treacherously, until utterly routed and crying quits in the first week of November. Not only had their life-saving railroads through Mezieres been cut by long range artillery, but were almost within the actual grasp of the Allied armies!

No one had any hallucinations now about visiting "the big town." Yet, this bad all the earmarks of a quiet sector. Only a few shells winged their way in now and then. Nobody would clamor loudly for a rest camp if they could be allowed to spend Christmas here performing the ordinary routine duties of a defensive position. After months of mud and squalor wouldn't you like to step from a moonlit balcony through a door-a real, honest-to-goodness door with a knob on it and panes of glass-into your own private hallway, and after investigating the back passage which led to a bomb-proof deep in the bowels of the defending hillside, turn into your own room, a room with latticed window, stone fireplace, electric lights, real furniture, the heavy beams in wall and ceiling painted white, the panels a cool gray and topped by a frieze of dainty cut-outs from La Vie Parisienne?

This was the strongest, the most unique and comforting system of trenches one could imagine. In the early days of the war, the wavering lines had come to rest at this point. Attempts at gain by either side through the heavily wooded, deep ravines and abrupt ridges of the forest had proved futile and costly.

Black, gloomy, forbidding, this largest expanse of woodland between the Mediterranean and the Rhine stretches a distance of thirty-nine kilometers from Passevant and Beaulieu in the south, with the big town of St. Menehould in its southern confines, to Grand-Pre and the valley of the River Aire on the north. On the eastern edge of the forest are Varennes, Mont-blainville, Cornay and St. Juvin. On its western boundary are the towns of Binarville, Lancon and Grand Ham. For four years the upper twenty-two kilometers of it, held by the enemy, was a region of dark mystery, its densely wooded hills and ravines, swamps, brooks, marshland, tangled underbrush, trailing vines and briars adapted by them into a vast, impregnable fortress.

From time immemorial, the Argonne had proved a stumbling-block to military operations. Julius Caesar went around it; Napoleon avoided it; in this war, neither Germans nor French could push all the way through it; it remained for Alexander to conquer. Four years of desultory shelling, just enough to let the other side know that the fight was still on, four years of occasional raids and minor actions had carved out of the forest a long stretch of bald and barren ridges, splintered trunks, yawning shell-pits-a scarred and battered wreckage of landscape. All life at first glance seemed extinct.

But here were the evidences of incredible labor. Officers and non-coms. who crept stealthily forward to the P. P.'s and listening posts found a torn, twisted and tortuous maze of earthworks, caverns, pits, dugouts, emplacements and barriers-outposts which were scarcely more than shellholes in which man still dared to eke out a precarious existence. Here he was, out of sight-a grim and silent poilu, Chauchat gunner or sentinel watching from his hidden recess for signs of enemy activity, shifting his position ever so carefully from time to time, speaking at rare intervals to one of his fellows in the merest whisper, cautioning the American up there on observation to utter no word of English, lest the Germans sense the impending attack.

Peering timorously over a parapet one might see, not more than thirty yards off in places, the German trenches crouching low behind their mountains .of rusted and barbed wire entanglements, cheveaux de frise, refuse, tin cans, broken bits of materiel and equipment, wire and more wire. Lanes would have to be cut through all of that before the attacking troops could hope to pass.

Perpendicular to the front, each one carefully mapped and named, the boyaus or connecting trenches clambered abruptly down into the ravines, then labored up over the ridges, many of them carved with steps into the solid rock and camouflaged, leading to the support systems and beyond. Here, daily work by the very few men necessary had by degrees made the trenches almost perfect. Nouveau Cottage, the elaborate concrete residence of the sector commander, was an underground chateau-a palace, it seemed to us then.

The greater part of the men were held in readiness further back past a series of wooded and slippery ridges, where the forest had not been blasted out of existence by shell-fire. Some of them found comparative comfort on a forward slope in wide, deep trenches shaded by tall and stately trees. Others were quartered in reserve in a camp on the reverse slopes at La Chalade, where it seemed as though every group which had ever occupied that position had contributed of its ingenuity and resource to make the spot more restful and inviting to the tired troops who might come after. Only by a process of evolution through many seasons could that little city have been built in the wilderness. Beautiful dugouts, walks, stairways, balconies, kitchens, baths -even an open-air theatre; an electric light plant; furniture, hangings, bric-a-brac, and even pianos in some of the huts! It was Heaven, after all the bloodshed, misery and disappointment we had been through.

Many a poker game was broken up by stories the sergeants brought back from the front-that a drive was about to start which would mean the end of the war, and that many an extra first-aid man would be on the job. Hurried letters were written to the folks at home. Vigorous preparation for the on-slaught ensued, two extra bandoliers of ammunition, hand grenades, rifle grenades, wire cutters being issued-everything convenient to kill a man with. A copious supply of cigarettes, bounty of the Auxiliary, helped. Everything in the way of equipment, excepting rifle, belt and bayonet, gas mask, slicker and combat pack was turned in.

Our ranks had been depleted by deaths, wounds and illness. While officers and platoon sergeants were assembled at headquarters for their thrilling instructions, a welcome issue of replacements was received from the 40th Division. Most of these new men had been in civilian clothes on the Pacific Coast in July. They had had almost no practice with the gas mask. Very few of them, if any, had ever thrown a live grenade. Some had fired not more than fifteen rounds with the service rifle. A Camp Upton veteran actually collected a five-franc note for teaching one of his new comrades how to insert a clip, and thought he had pulled a good one! What he expected to do in the-woods with a five-franc note, no one knew; yet it was just as safe in one pocket as another. About fifty, went to each company, though when M Company hopped the bags, it comprised one sergeant, one corporal, forty men skilled, in the care and handling of horses, and a hundred and fifty recruits. Thank God, most of them were from the woods and could ordinarily dust the eye of a squirrel at fifty yards. They were quick to absorb the pointers handed out by the older men though what we were to buck up against, Methuselah, for all his years, could not have taught. It had not been tried before. These inexperienced men were just as well off as others. They had the proper, spirit, which was the only real equipment necessary.

The moon was rising when the Second Battalion, under command of Captain Eaton, filed out of Le Claon whither it had been withdrawn a few nights before into the woods, past the burning house and popping ammunition dump ignited by shell fire, through La Chalade, with its gaunt spectral church, through Nouveau Cottage, where the last hot meal was due and which was not forthcoming, through the winding boyaus and up to the forward lines on the Route Marchand. It was to lead the attack followed in close support by the First Battalion and then the Third. On our left was the 306th Infantry, in column of Battalions also. The Division was to attack in line of regiments.

All night the men clung to that steep hillside, or herded into the dugouts awaiting the "zero" hour, while from their midst heavy mortars in the hands of the French played havoc with the German wire. Back on the roads paralleling the front the artillery was massed hub to hub. Shortly after midnight their pandemonium broke loose; the steady roar of great guns was deafening, terrifying. Jerry must have thought a whole ammunition dump was coming at him.

The chill September air was blue with fog and smoke and powder, the dawn, Just breaking as the silent columns filed up through the steep boyaus toward, the jumping-off places, ready to go over the top with only raincoats and rations for baggage, armed to the teeth, and more thrilled than ever Guy Empey thought he was. This was just what we had all read about long before America got into the war; this was just what the home folks doubtless imagined us to be doing every day. Could anyone who was there ever forget the earnest, picturesque figures with their grim-looking helmets, rifles and bayonets sharply silhouetted against the eastern sky; the anxious consultation of watches; the thrill of the take-off; the labored advance over a No Man's Land so barren, churned, pitted and snarled as to defy description; the towering billows of rusty, clinging wire; the flaming signal rockets that sprayed the heavens - the choking, blinding smoke and fog and gas that drenched the valleys, and then-one's utter amazement at finding himself at last within the German stronghold which during four years had been thought impregnable! This was certainly a long way from New York!

A few corpses lay strewn about in the wreckage of emplacement, camp or dugout; a few dazed and willing prisoners were picked up here and there; but for the most part the Boches had fled, their only resistance being a feeble shell fire, machine gunning and sniping. They had pulled out as rapidly as possible-all who were not blown off the earth by that first blast of fire at midnight-to their second line of defense.

Despite the intensity of the shelling, the maze of wire revealed no open avenues and there was difficulty in keeping up with our own rolling barrage as it swept over the ground before us at the rate of a hundred meters in five minutes. Pieces of cloth and flesh staved with the rusty, clinging barbs; a number of men were impaled on spikes cleverly set for that very purpose. With difficulty the leading and supporting waves were reformed in line of gangs" or small combat groups before plunging on into the ravines, there to become lost or separated from their fellows until after climbing to some high point above the sea of fog they might determine again the direction of advance by a consultation of map and compass and a consideration of whatever landmarks rose above the clouds.

No concerted resistance was met with until about noon, after three kilometers of wooded terrain had been covered. There a stubborn machine gun resistance and a heavy shell fire persuaded the Second Battalion, reinforced by companies of the First, to dig in while they spread their panels on the ground to indicate to the Liberty planes overhead the point of farthest advance. At last we were to get some assistance from the air! Casualties there had been in great numbers from enemy shelling and from lurking snipers; but like North American Indians, we continued to stalk our prey from tree to tree.

With difficulty the scattered units were gathered together from all points of the compass. Here and there a little "gang" had had its thrilling experience. The scout, whose trying duty it is to advance far in the lead to observe or-failing in that-to draw fire from the hidden ambush, had detected a skulking sniper or hidden machine gun post. Signalling to his fellows, the rifle grenadiers had perhaps planted their missiles within the enemy nest, the automatic rifle had been noiselessly carried to a point of vantage, the riflemen and bombers had surrounded the group of the enemy and with their fire routed him out.

How these men learn to work together in their own little "gangs"-four such units constituting a platoon-and how they sometimes come to love their old weapons is suggested by the homely statement of a private in B Company who says, "I had my most experience on a Shawshaw gun, and number one and two men got wounded. Walter and Jim and I took the gun and held the position and got a helper from the same platoon and he got wounded and I held the position until I was called back by my sergeant and took up another position and held it until we moved out and never got wounded at all and all we had to eat is one can of corn willie and two cans of hard tack for two of us. But we got along with it and while on the front I used two mussets of ammu-nition on the Germans and my gun got hot and my gun got hit in the stalk and split it, but I carried it all along in the Argonne drive where I got gassed and had to lend it to some other boys in the platoon."

The American doughboy is a curious bird. He wanders along most casually under shellfire, feeling-if he thinks about anything at all-that he stands as good a chance as anyone of not being hit. In the midst of what one might ordinarily consider fairly important or distracting duties all his thought is for something else. "Oh, Lieutenant, looka here," he says in the midst of an attack, pointing out some unusual bit of concrete trench in the German lines. He is more absorbed with his guess as to the number of nights someone has had to spend there in digging, than the probability of its holding a company of lurking Boches. Presently another one off on the right says, "Oh, Lieutenant, looka here." There are about seventeen fat Germans stand-ing outside a lovely dugout but all eyes are on the dugout instead of on the Germans.

"Keep out of that dugout! Search 'em, quick," gasps the Lieutenant, fearing treachery-which they do, mindful only of the envied Luger automatic pistols they are to acquire. The prisoners are lined up, and one slightly wounded American private detailed to take them to the rear.

"Come along, youse, " he says, lighting up a cigarette, and making as if to start off at the head of the willing column, with the sling of his rifle over his shoulder and chest.

"Wait a moment; I want to speak to you," yells the worried lieutenant, who then whispers in the doughboy's ear, " Unwind that rifle from your throat so you can use it.

" Yessir. Giddap, youse Heinies! "

" Comeback here," shouts Mr. Officer once again. "What the Hell do you think you're on-a picnic Don't turn your back on that column! Get behind 'em I "

" Yessir, good idea," and off he wanders.

A strong outguard having been posted against the possibility of counterattack in the night, and reliefs arranged, the remaining men crouch in the slime of their miserable funk holes, cursing the cold, clammy drizzle, and shivering themselves into fitful sleep under the meagre protection of an army rain-coat, gas mask slung in readiness, helmet covering one ear, rifle loaded, locked and in instant readiness. Perhaps it is arranged that two will occupy the one hole - one man constantly on the alert, and so on down the entire line. At dawn they stretch their aching limbs, a warming fire not to be thought of, with no expectation of a hot meal; for there are no roads as yet open to the pursuing cookers. Nothing in view but the prospect of another day of advance.

On the evening of the 27th a determined though unsuccessful attack was launched against the strong positions on the extreme right of our line, at the Carrefour des Meurissons. Into a pocket which the enemy had cleared out of the brush two companies unwarily advanced before meeting up with a barricade of unexpected chicken wire. just at that moment, the machine guns opened up from three sides. Why those companies were not blown to atoms cannot be said. Night put a damper on further attempts, from which we desisted until morning. After our third costly attack on this point the enemy broke and ran. On the left, the Abri St. Louis fell to the Three Hundred and Fifth after four attacks.

Through the Abri du Crochet and a bit beyond, the front was extended on the, night of the 28th, the Regiment finding the brush even more thick- almost impenetrable. For units to advance in attack formation and to keep proper contact with each other was well nigh impossible. The kitchens succeeded in moving up by road to the Abri, which was consoling, and carrying parties were furnished by those in support. Where breathes the good soldier who hasn't breathed yet more deeply at the sight of the old chow-engine, or whose magnetic hand has not at times pilfered a can of jam from the larder? Did you ever threaten to raid the kitchen and the defending cooks with hand grenades? You certainly caused enough anxiety with your determination to congregate in their vicinity.

Here was an ideal place for Regimental Headquarters to operate. When advance elements first entered these palatial German dugouts, there lay beside the telephone a partially decoded message in German, forwarded of course with all speed to the Divisional Intelligence Department. But the real haul consisted of many bottles of " Selzwasser " and some light wines which Lieutenant Poire, being an expert on such things, decided to sample lest the unwitting Americans stumble into any trick stuff. That was the last seen of the wines. Nothing further was heard of them but the gurgle. But the Colonel's mess that night boasted of freshly cooked rabbit, fresh vegetables and head lettuce, all of which had been in the course of preparation for the absent German dignitary's evening meal.

On the 1st our front was extended to the left by companies of the First and Third Battalions, taking over ground previously held by the 306th, which brought them into the high, wooded ground of the Bois de la Naza, and in front of a ravine which extended from the west up toward the center of the line. G, E and F Companies also went into positions on the left, and H was rushed over to the extreme right flank of the Division. Sector, to fill in a gap that was not closed by the 28th Division. The undergrowth in this portion of the forest was so dense that individuals could in some places with difficulty worm their way unobserved to within a few yards of the enemy by making extraordinarily careful use of cover, and by patiently avoiding the small clearings or traps cut in the forest by the Germans, where a false move would be certain to call forth enemy fire, point blank. An examination of these positions after they had been taken showed that the murderous machine gun fire which halted the advance was delivered from a line of gun pits at intervals of not more than twenty feet. During the initial advance, our men proceeded in thin lines and in combat groups to the very tip of these well hidden positions and were there mowed down.

That troops could subsequently push up to within a very few yards of the German gunners without detection-and likewise without being able actually to see the enemy-seems remarkable; and yet, the extreme right company actually dug for protection while a searching machine gun fire sprayed through the brush, at a range of only thirty yards. It was accomplished only by extending into skirmish order and patiently, inch by inch, one man at a time, crawling ever closer and closer to the enemy until fired at point blank by the opposing gunners-then digging for dear life.

Both sides maintained an almost constant rifle and machine gun fire, although for the most part our men failed to appreciate the demoralizing effects of a grazing fire, taught as they were to aim at definite targets. This the enemy seemed to estimate of great value, for our positions were swept by an almost constant fire. It can easily be understood how difficult it was to promulgate orders for subsequent operations, or to distribute food. To provide drinking water, one man would painstakingly crawl from one hole to another collecting on a stick a dozen or so canteens which he would bear to some point in rear. Movement or noise of any kind seemed to draw forth a raking fire of greater intensity than usual.

Naturally, the runners led a precarious existence. The right company had made an effort to swing forward the far extremity of its line, pivoting on the left. The air was blue with bullets. In the midst of all the hullaballoo a runner squirmed forward to the company commander who at that moment lay on his stomach, his gas mask slung over his back instead of his chest, that he might place himself just those three inches nearer the ground. Surely it must be a message of great tactical importance demanding that a soldier jeopardize his life to effect its prompt delivery! Breathless, wounded in the canteen, the brave lad banded over the vital message which ran like this: "You will send at once to Battalion Headquarters a man who will be detailed to attend a School for the Care and Handling of Army Asses."

Constant patrolling was necessary in order to maintain the closest sort of contact, to learn at once not only of any offensive operation on the enemys' part, but also of any withdrawal or maneuvering of their troops. Patrols of another nature were necessary, too-searching for those who failed to return. An adventure which was typical of many that happened in the Bois de la Naza was that of Sergeants Tompkins and Collins, Corporal Neitziet and Private Arkman of L Company who crawled forward to within ten yards of the enemy guns, weathered the fire and the "potato-masher" hand grenades thrown in their direction, and carried to safety three wounded comrades who had been ambushed during an attempted advance. They were awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.

" We took Chaplain Johnson out on patrol," writes the F Company scribe, "looking for snipers. One of the men salvaged a German rifle and while looking it over almost blew off the Chaplain's head. We got no snipers that time, but did get a bunch of blankets, which the boys were glad to have. The Chaplain was game, and was always in the thick of it, comforting the wounded, and seeing to it that the dead got as decent a burial as possible." Both of the chaplains had plenty of work to do and contributed greatly to the maintenance of morale, during those trying days. We have seen funerals on the battlefield; we have seen funerals in French towns, magnificent with trappings, pomp and professional mourners. Yet there was never one more impressive than that of Private Morgan of H Company, killed by the accidental explosion of hand grenades which he carried. In the first light of a chill October morning a group of his comrades gathered 'round as the poor boy's body was interred, while his Corporal extemporaneously uttered a homely, heartfelt prayer.

For the better part of four days, we strove against these positions. Artillery could not be used to advantage because of the proximity of our lines to those of the enemy and the likelihood of short bursts in the treetops. "The American Army never retreats," and those higher up would not consider for a moment withdrawing troops while a sudden barrage might be laid down. We prayed for that artillery, but got precious little such assistance. Rifle grenades fouled in the trees. Stokes mortars were brought into play, and captured German "grenatenwerfer" were used by the Mortar Platoon with damaging effect on the enemy. But, in order to register accurately, it was necessary for an observer to be on the spot-not thirty, nor fifty, nor a hundred yards back, but within a very few yards of where the shells were calculated to land. On October 3d, such a barrage of Stokes mortars was attempted. The German fire was heavy and incessant. Sergeant Sustick of L Company volunteered to crawl forward to observe the effects of our fire. He therefore came not only under the fire of the enemy, but was virtually within our own mortar barrage. For that he, too, was decorated.

The 2d of October brought forth a succession of bloody attacks on various parts of the line. Those in higher command could not or would not appreciate the unspeakable difficulties of the situation and demanded that the opposition be shattered at once. On the 3d, Captain Eaton with E, F and G Companies had, under orders from authority higher than the Regimental Commander, taken over, man for man, positions from the 306th in the Ravine de la Fontaine aux Charmes, facing the northern slopes which came to be known as Dead Man's Hill or Suicide Hill. At this juncture, before any tactical redisposition of the men could be effected, a Marine Major had come forward in the capacity of Corps Inspector to investigate the delay, had removed Captain Eaton because his men were huddled into a ravine, and reported that the Three Hundred and Fifth were "soldiering"-lying down on the job! This was rank injustice to a very able leader and to the poor devils who had been crawling around on their empty bellies for a week, seeing their comrades dropping like flies. They were incensed.

In the afternoon these companies under command of Captain "Bill" Mack stormed the hill. It was the same old story. F Company alone suffered over fifty casualties in that one afternoon. The right of the line under command of Major Harris, who was carrying on despite a broken collarbone, attacked repeatedly an impregnable line of machine guns. There we got artillery support but it fell short and must have knocked out as many of our own men as those of the enemy. Brigadier General Wittenmyer, "Old Witt," as the boys affectionately called him, and who fears nothing under the sun, came forward himself to lead the attack in person. The dead lay thick in the brambles and shrubbery; the wounded came back in droves. All night the ambulances labored to evacuate the casualties of that brief attack as fast as the dressing station could put them through. Over three hundred men had been killed, were missing, or were so badly wounded that they could not eventually rejoin. Here again, the Sanitary Detachment did heroic work under fire. At seven o'clock the next morning the last three men were trundled off in a brave little Ford ambulance, and the General, Old War Horse that he is, sat down in his head-quarters, mopped his brow and is reported to have said, "Well, anyone who, says he likes war is either a damn fool or a damn liar."

An account of the attack by an F Company boy reads: "At 3.30 we lined up our gangs and started over that most terrible hill. We were at once under direct machine gun fire, the worst yet, and it seemed as if the air was so full of bullets that a man could not move without being bit. A man standing upright would have been riddled from head to foot. That's what happened to Lieutenant Gardner, leading E Company. We were approaching the crest of Suicide Hill, advancing very slowly on our bellies. The only order that could be heard was 'Forward,' and Company F was game. It was awful. The poor boys were getting slaughtered as fast as sheep could go up a plank. No one could ever describe the horror of it. The screams of the wounded were terrible, but we stuck to it. We could not see a Boche; once in a while one would stick his head out of his machine gun emplacement only to his sorrow. We were supposed to go over with a rifle grenade barrage; but we fired off all we had and the effect was too weak. What we really wanted was a violent artillery barrage but never did they throw a shell. Our commander, Lieutenant Hever, got hit in the lung, and that left us without any officers; it was every man for himself. The Boches made our company look like a squad; all that was left was a handful of men."

In justice to Captain Eaton, be it said in large type, that he was almost immediately exonerated by a Court of Inquiry and returned to his command, greatly envied for the brief breathing spell he had enjoyed at Le Claon.

On the 5th and 6th, these positions were taken over by the 306th. On the 7th, pressure on the flanks succeeded in squeezing out the resistance. Tired units were drawn into the comfortable retreat at Abri du Crochet for a couple of days of bathing and hot food, and for the absorption of a new batch of officers recently commissioned from the Regular Army Divisions, whose only equipment seemed to be comfort kits and Sam Browne belts. the selection of an orderly in some instances being the subject of far more concern than making the acquaintance of a new platoon, or familiarizing themselves with the maps of the region. That sounds a little bit unappreciative - for they were in reality a corking bunch of officers who jumped into their new duties with vigor and vim and quickly endeared themselves to officers and men alike. If the roll were called today, a great number of them would be found to have paid the price.

The lines which a member of the Machine Gun Company wrote of his Platoon Commander, Lieutenant Frank T. Montgomery, who was killed in the Bois de la Naza, might also have been said of many another.

THE SECOND LIEUTENANT

NEW STYLE

He's younger than the most of us-far younger than the "Top," And, bein' young, he's full of pep and keeps us on the hop; He hasn't been in long enough to sour on the game; He's tickled as a kid with it-that's why we bless his name.

He puts us through all sorts of stunts to liven up the drill, He laughs when he turns corners sharp and takes a muddy spill. It's up and in it all the time-he never seems to tire, And doesn't know what ducking means in face of Fritz's fire!

He always calls us " fellows "-never pulls the line " My men He likes to think he's one of us; and back in billets, when He has to make inspections, he'll sit down and chin a while, And as to all that "Yes Sir" stuff, " Oh, can it!" That's his style.

At shows he plays his uke for us, and sings his college glees, And if there's a piano, wow! He sure can pound the keys! On hikes he always starts a song, or sends along a laugh- And those are things, you darn well know, that help us stand the gaff.

I never cared for college guys when I was in the States; I thought they were a messy lot, a bunch of underweights; But if our Loot's a sample, why, I've got to change my mind -He's got the sand, the bean and go to pull us through the grind!

To be dragged out of a hell-hole, considerably the worse for wear, cold, muddy and hungry, and back into a sheltering ravine out of reach of the German machine guns, though not yet beyond shell fire, was great. After the first shave in ten days and a night's sleep under a stray piece of corrugated iron, what ho!-one is a man again. But some fared better even than that. " On the reverse slopes of these hills," quoting from the 7 7th Division History, "huge deep dugouts had been constructed-one of the famous rest areas of the German armies, where battle-worn and weary Boches were taken to fatten up and recover morale amidst amazing comforts and luxuries. On the heights above these dugouts, more pretentious abodes had been built for officers and non-commissioned officers. These were of concrete, with logs and concrete roofing, twenty feet in depth, and were ornamented to resemble Swiss chalets and Black Forest hunting lodges with peaked roofs and exterior fresco work of burnt oak. Within were oak wainscoted chambers, fitted with electric lights and running water, supplied from the power house in the valley below. Benches and tables in rustic solid oak were supplemented by plush arm-chairs and hair mattresses to cater to the comforts of weary warriors. Adjoining "Waldhaus Martha" was the bowling alley with the open-air restaurant and beer garden built above it, where once sat the onlookers, quaffing their beer, perhaps, and cheering the bowlers. Down in the ravine where the brook ran was the great concrete swimming pool, and here, also, were found spacious shower baths supplied with hot water by modern boilers and concrete furnaces. These baths, you can bet, were put to immediate use.

The advance over the next six kilometers by the remainder of the Brigade was opposed only by shell fire. On the night of the 9th, it was announced that La Besogne had been taken; but when the entire Brigade, led by the 306th, took up the advance the next morning in column of squads, with Berlin as the objective, they found that a body of French had cut across the Division sector from the left and lay at some distance in the rear of the tiny hamlet dignified by such a beautiful name.

Some historian ' with a mania for painful detail, will some day point out with glee that for a few moments that morning the 77th was an attacking Division which had no front; for the French above referred to were joined up on their right with a battalion which had strayed beyond the limits of the 82d Division's sector. We hereby take the wind out of his sails.

The three battalions of the 306th having taken position to the front and west of Besogne, the First Battalion of the Three Hundred and Fifth became the attacking unit of the Brigade. It did a splendid piece of work that afternoon. The shelling had become very heavy. The attacking battalion of the 82d Division encountered on our right, which had become separated from the rest of its outfit, was literally cut to pieces and digging in. Gathering up portions of this scattered unit on his way, Major Metcalf delayed not a moment, but led his command rapidly through shellfire, through the positions of more or less demoralized troops to the Marcq-Chevieres line and succeeded in pushing patrols to the Aire. Lieutenant Clokey, though no more than partially recovered from a serious wound sustained on the Vesle, had returned to the Regiment just in time to be put in command of C Company and to enter the attack. With remarkable dash and vigor he led his company across two kilometers of open ground, under the full observation and heavy shell fire of the enemy, and extended his front so as to enter and hold the town of Marcq, going out of the Regimental sector to do so and then reaching the river. These positions were taken over by the 154th Brigade on the night of the 13th at which time the other elements of the Regiment were drawn back to the Pylon crossroads to the west of Cornay by a difficult night march. Though ready for a genuine rest, men had to be satisfied with the following:

Headquarters, 77th Div., 12 Oct., 1918.

General Order

No. 32

1. The following is published for the information of all concerned: 804/G3

ADVANCED HEADQUARTERS, FIRST ARMY CORPS

Oct. 12, 1918. From: Commanding General, 1st Army Corps.

To: Commanding General, 77tb Division.

Subject: Commendation.

1. The Corps Commander directs me to inform you that he feels once more during the present operations called upon to express his gratification and appreciation of the work of the 77th Division.

2. This Division has been in the line constantly since the night of the 25th of September under circumstances at least as difficult as those which have confronted any other Division of the First Army.

3. In spite of these conditions your command has pushed steadily forward on a line with-the foremost and today, after eighteen days of constant fighting is still ready to respond to any demand made upon it.

4. The Corps Commander is proud indeed of such a unit as yours and congratulates you on such a command.

MALIN CRAIG,

Chief of Staff.

By Command of MAJOR GENERAL ALEXANDER.

C. 0. SHERRILL,

Chief of Staff.

The 77th Division had cleaned out the Argonne Forest, but they had to go on.

The 14th was an eventful day and productive of a lasting difference of opinion. After it had weathered a night of heavy shell fire, an early morning barrage of great intensity and a counter attack, H Company certainly felt as if it had taken the town of St. Juvin and held it against vigorous opposition. However, credit for its capture has, in the Division History, officially gone to H Company of the 306th Infantry, and very little has been said of the part played therein by the Three Hundred and Fifth, which experienced all the thrills of approaching an enemy town under shell fire, mopping it up, hastily entrenching to defend it, sending back prisoners, and feeling very much alone in it during all the night of the 14th.

On that afternoon, the Second Battalion had been on the high ground behind Marcq in support of the 306th, which was to cross the river and take St. Juvin. General Wittenmyer in person had suddenly ordered Captain Dodge to lead his company by trails through the brush down to the River Aire, to advance and enter the town, followed by the rest of the battalion. Major Bennet, the Brigade Adjutant, guided the company north along the railroad to a foot bridge, which they crossed, single file, into the open meadows two kilometers southeast of the town. It was beautiful to see the men turn left, on command, and proceed north in line of gangs under a heavy shell fire, which the Boche with his perfect observation instantly opened up, and despite casualties to maintain their attack formation.

Into a sheltering ditch they flopped momentarily for breath. No moving troops had been seen to their front during this part of their advance. All set for a hand-to-hand scrap, they were surprised therefore to encounter at the bridge on the eastern limits of the town, which they entered at five-thirty, a number of German prisoners in the hands of American troops, men of the 306th who had succeeded in accomplishing an enveloping movement to the right, in the sector of the 82d Division. The shelling had ceased; it was evident that the Boches were loath to bombard the great numbers of their own troops who were still there.

Troops of the other regiment, it was said, were in the eastern edge of the town. Accordingly, H Company of the Three Hundred and Fifth divided into groups, proceeding through the streets of the center and western half, mopping up the cellars, clear to the northern limits. While engaged in this thrilling work, no other American troops were encountered, unless one excepts the drunken engineer whose helmet and gas mask were gone, whose only equipment was a Colt .45 stuck in the waistband of his breeches, and who wept, while pointing out the choicest wine cellars, because he hadn't taken any prisoners. They had all insisted upon running away from him, he said. It was after the sobering barrage which shortly occurred that he confessed to having found some pretty good stuff back in Marcq, and that after the bridge on which he had been working was completed, he had sauntered forward into a town then completely dominated by the enemy, to see what the wine cellars there had to offer.

In the region of the church, and north of it, several groups of unresisting prisoners were taken, including three majors, one captain, one lieutenant, several non-coms, and about eighty men who were grouped with a large number turned over to us at the entrance to the town by the 306th, and sent to the rear in charge of one officer and a squad. There was no hand-to-hand fighting. The German soldiers had been told by their officers that an armis-tice would be in effect the next day, and were only too happy to fall into a column of squads and later, to serve as litter bearers-if someone would put in a good word for them.

None of the equipment taken from them could be listed. Prized trophies which the boys would now give a great deal for were hurriedly dumped into a heap, while the platoons sought to assemble and dig in on Hill 182, about seventy-five yards north of the town, just as night fell. The company numbered about sixty effectives, plus two guns of the 306th Machine Gun Company, 82d Division, which came up at nightfall and took position on our left. A patrol to the northwest on the Champigneulle road scared up some Germans who fled. Outpost No. 1 on Hill 182 located by nine-thirty at a considerable distance from its right, and slightly to the front, another small detachment of the 326th Machine Gun Company.

The enemy shells commenced to land upon our positions at about nine o'clock and continued to do so practically without cessation all through the night. Digging was difficult because of flying shell splinters; and it seemed as if the noise of pick and shovel brought a desultory rifle fire from the right front, bullets repeatedly grazing the parapets-which seriously disputes the presence of friendly troops on that quarter. In fact, H Company felt utterly alone. Sergeant Leopold, sent to the rear to give information in detail as to the situation and to ask that companies be disposed to defend the right and left, found no one in town, the walls of which by that time were rocking, and was interrupted in the carrying out of his mission by having to gather up single-handed, about forty more prisoners who at that inconvenient moment insisted upon shrieking " Kamarad!

At about ten o'clock, an officer of the 306th reached Captain Dodge and his executive lieutenant to ask about our dispositions and what was on the left. It was pointed out to the visitor that his company had not advanced to its objective; that there was nothing on our left. He was asked if possible to move up from the St. Juvin-St. Georges Road in order to help out in case of trouble. At about five o'clock in the morning it appeared that he was taking up position in old German trenches on Hill 182, on our right front, out of which those troops were shelled an hour or so later by the most intense barrage our men had ever experienced. The Germans loosed everything they had, finishing up with a rain of machine gun bullets and a feeble counter attack which was repelled. It cannot be said that there was any desperate fighting in and About St. Juvin although not a man was there who does not earnestly pray that he will never again have to live through such a nerve-wracking experience as that shell fire. This operation elicited the following commendation from General Alexander:

HEADQUARTERs 77TH DIVISION,

American E. F.

14 October, 1918.10:55 P. M.

General Order.

1. The Division Commander congratulates most heartily the troops of this division upon the successful result of operations, 14th October. A most difficult night march was necessary to place 153d Brigade in proper position to attack. This was done, the attack launched and the objective gained. In the course of the operations a large number of prisoners, including officers of superior rank, were taken by the 153d Brigade.

2. This success, coming as it does, in the course of a campaign which has already lasted eighteen days, made under circumstances which have tested to the limit the courage and endurance of the officers and men, demonstrates once more the indomitable spirit and courage of the officers and men of this division.

3. The Division Commander, reiterating the commendation already twice made of the work of this organization by the Corps Commander, feels that it is indeed an honor to command such troops.

ROBERT ALEXANDER,

Major-General, Commanding.

Transmitted to

Commanding Officers 305th and 306th Infs. and 305th M. G. Bn.

For information.

By Command Of MAJOR-GENERAL WITTENMYER.

E. GARY SPENCER,

Captain, U. S. A.,

Operations Ogicer. H.Q. 153 Inf. Brig. 14th Oct. 10:55 P. M.

The remainder of the Battalions then got their nerves severely wracked. From a ditch southeast of town it was difficult enough for Regimental Headquarters to function, the place littered with the wounded, dying and dead, shells dropping all about from time to time. But it was even more difficult for troops to maneuver about the marshes and swamps of the Aire river-bed in which men were plastered from head to foot and their equipment irretrievably lost, buried under showers of black mud tossed skyward by the crumping 49 21o's." Extending its front to the west, toward nightfall, along the Crand-Pre road was another ghastly performance, rendered not a whit more delectable by the heavy rain, which fell, and which continued to fall during the entire night. The troops of the Third Battalion lay in just as uncomfortable a position on the hills to the east of the town.

Yet, this was one of the most happily expectant moments of our lives. The Division was to be relieved by the 78th! What did it matter if the rain came down in torrents? There was a rest a-coming. What did it matter if the-say, was there anyone there so utterly miserable that he didn't feel sorry for the poor old 78th as it crawled into those hopeless, inadequate positions beyond St. Juvin? Didn't you feel like apologizing when you offered that slimy funk hole along the roadside to the clean, well-fed youth who came to take it over! Didn't you beat it, though, back through the town in the early morning light, heedless of the rain, past that shambles at the entrance to St. Juvin, past all the dead men sitting upright in funk holes along the left-hand side of the road, past the wire and the huts and meagre uprootings all along that crest, past the old dressing station and the headquarters at the ditch -where you dropped off a few more men just then wounded during that very relief? It had been worth living through all the false rumors of relief just to realize the joy of that moment. After marching, marching, marching all day through sloppy mud that was ankle-deep, you approached the old German rest camp at Bouzon and Sachsenhain, far in the rear, where you would hear, thank Cod, only the occasional straying shell and pray that the bombing planes wouldn't come over too often.

A lieutenant wrote: "I stood at the foot of the trail leading into Camp de Bouzon watching the stream of faces that passed-white, weary faces which told more eloquently than words of the utter fatigue, the nerve-shattering strain, the loss of good comrades, the rains and the cold and the hunger of twenty-one days in the fighting-of twenty-four days in the line-of twenty-two kilos advance. Ragged, mud-caked, unshaven outcasts they seemed, scarcely able to plant one foot in front of the other, stumbling down the trail, eyes staring vacantly-hungry for sleep - bodies as hungry for shelter, warmth, baths and clean clothes as for hot food." They crawled into huts, or under pieces of old corrugated iron, sank at once into a stupor, unable to sleep, -and dreamed, perhaps:

Me!-a-leadin' a column!

Me!-that women have loved!

Me a-leadin' a column o' Yanks an' tracin' Her name in the stars.

Me that ain't seen the purple hills before all mixed in the skies.

With the gray dawn meltin' to azure there-,

Me, that ain't a poet, growin' poetic;

An' the flash o' the guns on the sky line,

An' red wine-an' France!

An' me laughin'-and War!

An' Slim Jim singin' a song;

An' a lop-eared mule a-kickin' a limber

An' axles 'thout no grease hollerin' "Maggie" at me!

Me, that women have loved-

An' War goin' on!

Mornin' comin',

An' me-a-leadin' a column

Along o' them from the College

Along o' them from the Streets,

An' them as had mothers that spiled them, and them as hadn't,-

Lovin' names in the stars,

An' Slim Jim singin' a song,

An' folks to home watchin' 'em, too,

An' Maggie, that never had loved me, lovin' me now,

An' thinkin' an' cryin' for me!-For me

that loved Maggie that never loved me till now.

With War goin' on!

Mornin' comin',

An' me-a-leadin' a column,

An' a town in the valley

Round the bend in the road,

An' Ginger strainin' his neck An' thinkin' o' Picket Lines-

An' me an' the rest o' them thinkin' o' Home and eggs down there

in the village,

An' Coney startin' to close at Home

An' Maggie mashed in a crowd-

An' me a-leadin' a column-

An' War goin' on!

Me that hollered for water,

With a splinter of Hell in my side,

Me that have laid in the sun a-cursin' the beggars an' stretchers

As looked like they'd never 'a' come;

Me that found God with the gas at my throat

An' raved like a madman for Maggie,

An' wanted a wooden cross over me!

Me-knowin' that some 'll be ridin' that's walkin' tonight

-Knowin' that some 'll never see Broadway again,

An' red wine

An' Little Italy,

An' Maggies like mine

-Me! a-murmurin' a prayer for Maggie

An' stoppin' to laugh at Slim,

An' shoutin', "To the right o' the road for the swoi-zant-canz!

Them babies that raises such Hell up the line,

An' marchin'

An' marchin' by night,

An' sleepin' by day,

An' France,

An' red wine,

An' me thinkin' o' Home,

Me-a-leadin' a column,-

An' War goin' on!

From "Up With the Rations, and Other Poems," By John Palmer Cumming, Sergeant, Supply Company.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MEUSE

They didn't think we'd do it, but we did."

WE heard the boastful Argonne Players sing it in the woods at Camp de Bouzon, and remarked nastily that we'd rather have fought their kind of war. Or was it then too early for them to have composed and dedicated to General Robert Alexander that modest ditty? No doubt at all that "when Jerry fell in the Argonne Wood," both he and we " got merry Hell and got it doggone good!" We had gone the route, and now felt sure "the big town" that was never reached would finally materialize.

There was wide-open talk of an armistice. Everyone thought he had fought his last fight, that in the general order of things, before our depleted ranks could get into the line again, either the war would be over or the opposing armies would have dug in for the winter. It was growing too cold and wet for further operations; the men couldn't live through many more nights in the open. Even the daily drill in attack formation, the reception of replacements and the reorganization of combat "gangs," the incessant practice with grenades, with German " potato-mashers," with pistol, rifle and automatic and with captured German machine guns could not make all the clouds look a dark gray. The old Band was a-workin' overtime. The first leaves were authorized but. Nobody got 'em.

Although the French were of the opinion that the war was over as a result of the October campaigns, General Pershing rightly lowed as how the American Army was only just beginning to feel its oats. The French could call a halt if they wanted to; he was going on alone to knock the living daylights out o' Germany and really finish the job. And the Commander in Chief seemed to feel that the 77th Division ought to be in at the finish.

There was no bloodthirsty roar of eager approval when General Alexander massed the officers and non-coms below the rostrum at Bouzon. Though we would like to have posterity think us a bunch of fireeaters, with insatiable appetites for more and bigger conflagrations, we cannot truthfully deny that gloom was abroad. However, if the General wanted to "smash the hinges," the 77th Division and the Three Hundred and Fifth Infantry could still put weight behind its sledgehammer.

The sun shone beautifully on the 30th of October, making the overcoat seem a useless addition to the combat pack as the Regiment hiked north; but that was about the last good effort he put forth until the following spring. He gave up the fight, completely. The bulk of the Regiment lay quartered that night in Martincourt Farm, south of St. Juvin and the River Aire, daring the Boche to wipe them out completely with his artillery, which he could have done without batting an eye, but which he didn't. The Third Battalion, that morning, took over a line running northeast from St. Juvin to St. Georges, from units of the 78th and 82d Divisions. On the night of the 31st, the Second Battalion, again under Captain Eaton who had relinquished command just prior to the relief of the 16th, took over from the 78th Division the very positions turned over to them on the night of the 15th! That the lines had not been advanced was a blow, indeed.

Again, the breathless awaiting of the "zero" hour-five-thirty, this time -much as on the never-to-be-forgotten September 26th. Again, an earth-rocking barrage directed against the known points of enemy resistance. A colored engineer sweating on the roads behind St. Juvin found himself close beside the deafening roar of a heavy battery. He surely had pep and en-thusiasm; for every time one of the "big boys" shattered the night air with an ear-splitting roar he would leap off the ground, crack his heels together, nigger-fashion, and shout, "Whoopee! Whoopee! Misto Kaiser, COUNT YO' MEN! "

He certainly would have hated to be on the other end of that noise; yet it wasn't loud enough. For when the Division started just before daylight of the first, the Three Hundred and Fifth in the lead encountered a tremen-dously strong resistance, the Third Battalion on the right suffering about a hundred and thirty casualties from a cross fire directed upon them from positions in the neighboring sector east of the Ravin aux Pierres and from the Moulin Mohin on their front-the Second Battalion reduced to about half of its morning strength by a scorching fire, both shell and machine gun, poured down upon their heads from the high ground at Champigneulle. Late in the afternoon, Captain Eaton was severely wounded and his command next day passed to Captain Tiebout. The enemy trenches to the south of this town continued to be strongly held until morning.

Yet, by three o'clock that first afternoon, the Third Battalion had gained its designated "intermediate" objective and withstood successfully between that hour and five P. M. three massed counter attacks, which they tell us were thrilling enough. That only the intermediate objective of the first day's attack was reached may be fairly laid to the fact that our Regiment had to advance along the main north and south road and, as was natural, that the enemy had put there his strongest resistance.

But with the daylight of November 2d, it was found that the bird had flown. For a couple of hours, the advance was held up while our cannon playfully threw into Champigneulle all their surplus ammunition left over from the day before-the time when it had been really needed. Only here and there was found and potted a hapless Boche who hadn't been able to sprint fast enough on the way through Verpel to Thenorgues where the Regiment dug a defensive position in a pouring rain -not so much facing the north as the west; for the 78th was far in the rear, leaving our flank exposed. There, however, G Company would have had their first hot coffee had not some poor, witless, bone-headed boob tipped over the marmite can! Oooh! He was popular.

Yet one need really never despair, either in camp or on the battlefield, when men say, " When do we eat? " for it is quasi-humorous and really means, " We'd be tremendously happy boys if the chow were to be handed out this minute." Even when men are desperately hungry, it betrays a persistent good humor, patience, vitality and a tenacity of purpose. It is so with the struggling infantryman pushing on through the forest in the face of enemy machineguns or, when hastily digging a funk hole, weathering shell fire, cursing the rain and the mud or bailing out a trench. It is so with the weary doughboy coming back from a relief, or with the machine gunner bent beneath the ungodly weight of a tripod, stumbling over a drunken duck-board, groping for his file leader in the ap-palling darkness, slipping and sliding on narrow forest paths. It is so when he falls at last comparatively safe into a ravine, though the first of his four days of promised rest has been consumed in marching from the lines to the back areas through almost impassable mud; though the second day of the "rest " be spoiled by having to move in the rain from Camp de Bouzon over the hills to Camp Sachsenhain; though the third day be ruined by having to tramp-again in the rain and overwhelming mud-clear back to Varennes for a questionably efficient bath; though the socks so lovingly put together by the Auxiliary are slow in arriving, and the letters from home are not promptly delivered. Just at the point where a Bolshevik might lay down his arms and refuse to play any more a crisis is averted by the simple words, "Hey, when do we eat?"

The foot race was resumed, the other Brigade leading the way through Buzancy, Bar and Harricourt. The towns flew by so fast that the panting doughboys howled for rest, stopping not even long enough really to enjoy a chunk of bully beef and half a succulent cabbage snatched in passing from the Franco-German war gardens. Ever test the refreshing effects of raw cabbage leaf? Nibble a piece of it while hastening to the office some morning; see if it doesn't quench your thirst, your thought, your ardor and everything else.

Headquarters group of 2n Bn., 305th Inf., leaving Thenorgues, morning of November 3, 1918 advancing toward Buzancy, which can be faintly discerned in the background

"Alexander's Rag-Time Band" was on its last legs. The rapid advance over rough ground was little more than a route-march in attack formation, with little food, little rest and spasmodic bursts of intense shell fire. A touch of gas flung over the first day was gradually claiming its victims; men were dropping from sheer exhaustion, bronchitis and disappointment. Units had great difficulty in keeping contact, while runners cursed the day they were born, and signal men romped all over the place in an effort to tie up the various elements fore and aft with wire. Colonel Lewis Morey, who prior to the attack had taken over command of the Regiment when our good old Colonel Smedberg was promoted to the rank of Brigadier-General, was generally with the front line troops, making his P. C. in a shell hole, a battered house or his motor car-switching the lights on momentarily, perhaps, by which to read a map, then opening the throttle wide to escape the sudden flock of shells seeking to perch on the tip of the radiator.

In Fontenoy and St. Pierremont, there was time for a breathing spell, while the 154th Brigade took up the forward line-though men of the Second Battalion, who huddled into a tremendous railroad cut through which the 308th Infantry passed in single file all during the day of the 4th, will tell you that the shelling which enemy observers of the movement directed into their snug retreat was no joke. They buried good comrades there, and wondered how shells could land upon the very rails and not kill off all the men who flopped in the adjacent ditches.

More shelling overtook the long columns of the Third and Second Battalions as they snaked northward, all day long, in single file through the Bois de St. Pierremont, past La Polka farm, where a number lie buried who fell when a dozen "H. E.'s" scored direct hits. It was as black pitch and raining cats and dogs when they emerged upon the east and west road near Le Cendriere Farm and dug into the sodden road bank for the most miserable night of their lives.

Dig in! The rifle was many times on the point of being discarded in favor of an extra shovel. If New York ever wants to build another subway, the Three Hundred and Fifth can furnish enough expert excavators to finish the job in a week or so. A word of advice to those who visit a friend in the suburbs over a weekend: master the habit of months spent under the magic spell of pick and shovel. Don't be found in your evening clothes digging a funk hole on the front lawn; use the bed your host provides. When his little boy touches off a firecracker under your chair, don't yell "Down," and flop on the floor. When upon the links, don't point out a good position for the night in the lee of some bunker. On the other hand, if the ordinary comforts of home begin to lose their charm, select some nice rainy afternoon for the resurrection of your old haversack from the cellar. If you haven't the haversack, strap a bag of meal upon your shoulders; take an old shot gun, a bag of rocks,, a can of salmon, an empty flask, a crazy quilt and no umbrella; walk ten miles out into the country; dig a grave, lie down in it and try to fall asleep before it fills to the rim with water. If by morning you haven't shivered yourself into a state of thanksgiving for the blessings of peace, stay there. You won't deserve even the old brass bed and the cracked water pitcher in the little hall room.

Chaplain Johnson paints a vivid picture of that night at Le Cendriere:

"In the first arduous laps of the march, a sturdy private produced a burlap bag out of which he rolled three two-pound cans of beef, a like number of jam, two cans of sardines, some condensed milk, considerable prunes-and was almost murdered for his great wealth. He invariably staggered under such a load of food that the observant eye was confounded. Thanks to him and his peculiarities many weary, hungry men had often tasted food when they could reasonably have expected none-and this happened with a frequency which begot expectancy.

" To the superficial observer, this bounty should seem to have depleted his store but to one knowing him, it was plain, on close inspection, that in addition to the complete equipment of the soldier, there hung from one shoulder a sack tied in the middle with bulging ends; from the other a two-quart German can; and through the tight lacings of his haversack peeped a bright can or two.

" The day was well nigh spent and wrapped in drizzling rain. The trail was narrow, slippery and interminable in its windings. Angry tree trunks seemed unrelenting in their opposition; saplings struck out in smart revenge for one's brushing them. Felled trees must be scrambled over in the trying darkness which came on quickly. But the weary column struggled through the wretched way, finally emerging upon an open road. In a veritable down-pour the troops dug meagre protection from the incessant shelling, in the sodden banks.

" Near the lines of weary, wet men, who lay on the roadside for the night, were a few farm buildings. A long, narrow cow stable squeezed between two dwellings was filled with wounded men who had been there all day without succor. In another building lay more wounded, hungry and suffering. The farm was in total darkness except for one small room crowded with men and officers, some of whom were lying asleep, others standing or sitting as best they could, a few bending over the tattered battle maps upon a table.

" Suddenly there spread through every building in the place the words, 'There's Ratti!' bringing new life and cheer. That old burlap bag and the German two-quart can furnished every wounded soldier a mess of steaming rice and all the coffee he wanted. Everyone had something out of it."

By some miracle of mules and persuasion the cookers had come up over badly mined and muddy roads to a point behind La Besace, to which point some were fortunate enough to be allowed to repair at dawn-in the unceasing downpour. Then through La Besace which was a sea of mud, there finding the liberated civilians grouped ecstatically in the streets, the Third Battalion followed by the rest of the Regiment took up the advance again and plunged sharply eastward into dense woods, in the direction of the Meuse. On the 6th their advance was continued, now supported by the First Battalion which had been under command of Major Frank Sloane since the 1st. Would the Boche never make a stand? Even a fight would have saved us that everlasting hike! The Commander of the First Army Corps evidently appreciated the rapidity of the advance:

HEADQUARTERS 77TH DIVISION

American E. F.

6th November, 1918. General Orders No. 36.

1. The following is published for the information of this Command:

"964/G3 HEADQUARTERS 1ST ARMY CORPS

Nov. 6, 1918. "From: C. G. I st Army Corps, U. S. To: C. G. 77th Division, U. S. Subject: Commendation.

"1. The following telegram just received from the Commanding General, 1st Army, is repeated for your information.

WIDEWING, Nov. 5-6,

Commanding General, 1st Corps.

"Number 238, see G. S. The army commander desires that you be informed of his full appreciation of the excellent work done by your corps during the last three days. He realizes fully the special efforts exerted and spirit that has prompted the troops of your command during these operations. The rapidity of the advance notwithstanding hostile opposition has been remarkable and prevented the enemy from reorganizing. The result has been to force the enemy back on his whole front. The army commander desires that you transmit his congratulations and appreciations to the troops of your command for this work.-DRUM."

" 2. To the foregoing the Corps Commander desires to record his warm congratulations and appreciation of the work done by the divisions of the Corps.

"3. He desires that the foregoing commendation be communicated to all concerned, including especially the engineers, signalmen, supply and laborer troops, without whose splendid efforts the results obtained could not have been accomplished.

By command of Major Gcneral Dickman,

MALIN CRAIG,

Chief of Staff."

2. In publishing the above high commendation for the work done by the officers and men of the 1st Army Corps, I wish to express my personal gratitude for the untiring and successful efforts made by all officers and men of this Division, especially since this Division alone remains in the line of those present at the beginning of the general operation November 1st. In the face of the greatest difficulties caused by continuous rains, enemy demoli-tions, and active resistance, this Division has pushed forward magnificently, overcoming all obstacles met in our advance. It is no exaggeration to say that this Division has taken more ground and material from the enemy since September 26th than any other Division in the American Army, and probably more than any other Division in any allied Army in this period. Without the most strenuous exertions and the most loyal cooperations on the part of the entire Division-officers and men-the results secured would have been impossible.

3. 1 desire especially to commend the conduct of the attached units, viz.: 12th Aero Squadron; 2d Balloon Company, Co. G, 53d Pioneers; and the 506th S. S. U. Section.

ROBERT ALEXANDER,

Major-General Commanding.

It was expected that troops of the Third Battalion could do no more by the night of the 6th than to occupy the heights west of the Meuse, sending patrols through Autrecourt and to the river. But the entire L Company, willing to undertake 'most anything in their quest of food, was joyously received by the inhabitants of Autrecourt that night, and it may have been due to its great capacities that these civilians had to be rationed immediately after the 11th by the Americans. K Company sent a platoon into Mouzen and to Villers-devant-Mouzon.

The remainder of the Regiment pulled into the former town, footsore and weary on the afternoon of the 7th, expecting to go on, for so read the orders. Engineers at Villers were having the Devil's own time erecting a bridge, under machine gun fire and shelling of ever-increasing intensity, to oppose which, K Company sent two platoons across, holding them there until nightfall. The First Battalion was rushed to the scene to cover the building operations, while other elements scouted the towns for raft and bridge building materials.

Villers became a hell-hole, with its constant shelling, the deadly machine gun fire and its blood. Yet A Company, all its officers lost and its ranks sadly depleted, succeeded in getting two platoons across, relieved the tired troops of K and routed out enemy guns, suffering terribly the while. On the next day it was considered a needless sacrifice to hold this bridge head, the troops being withdrawn-some to the heights and others into shelter in the towns, where only occasional shelling took place as though forbidden by some previous arrangement with the inhabitants, and where there was food.

The night of the 9th found troops of the Second Battalion struggling through the woods far to the left, taking over positions of the 307th, the First maintaining its occupancy of the right front. For the Division was extending its front to the north and west to a point almost within sight of Sedan. There were rumors of relief-there had been, constantly; it was certainly due.

There would have been gnashing of teeth could the plodding doughboys, then almost ready to weep from exhaustion and exposure, have known that an order was already started on its way (fortunately killed) for the 77th to take over the positions on the extreme left where the 42d had in the last few days relieved the 78th. As it was, they had to go through the formality of maintaining a strong outpost line, patrolling the wide front, though their eyes had taken on a stupid stare. " Stay with it, boys. The rations will be coming along in quantity soon. But in the meantime, feed on this, drawing whatever consolation you can from the last three lines of the second Paragraph:"

HEADQUARTERS 77TH DIVISION

American E. F.

November 10th, 1918. General Orders No. 37.

1. The following General Order of the 1st Army is published for the information of all concerned:

"After constant fighting for over one month, the 1st American Army launched an attack against the German Army which had established itself for determined resistance. In five days it had penetrated 25 kilometers and had driven the enemy in retreat before it. Its brilliant success, in connection with the 4th French Army on its left, forced the Germans to retreat on a broad front. This Army has fought and marched and endured the rigors of campaign with the most superb indifference to everything except the deter-mination to go forward and imprint upon the enemy the mark of its courage and resolutions.

"All arms and services of those in advance who smashed the way, including those in the air who rendered aggressive and meritorious service, and those in the rear who, by their untiring industry made possible the continued advance, are worthy of the highest praise and gratitude of their admiring country. The Army Commander is proud of such an army; he thanks it for the splendid results already achieved and looks with confidence to the still greater successes that lie before it."

By Command Of MAJOR-GENERAL ALEXANDER.

C. 0. SHERRILL,

Colonel, G. S., Chief of Staff. Official:

Louis B. GEROW,

Adjutant-General, Division Adjutant.

What greater success could lie before anyone at this point than to find a roof, to build a fire, and lie almost on top of it? The world is dark at five o'clock. At ten you and your bunkies take turns rubbing each other to keep warm. You cover your head with the blanket so as not to waste the warmth expelled from your lungs; enough fresh air can get through the pores of that blanket anyhow. The sentry you are due to relieve awakens you at dawn. The frost is on the pumpkiner, that is, it would be, if there were any pump-kin. But if there had been any wild pumpkin roaming about loose, it would have been caught and eaten raw, long since. Under the lee of the steep hill-sides which defilade this position from intermittent artillery fire, the grass is pure white. And so are the long ravines and the steep slopes leading down into the river mists and over to the enemy lines at Ablimont-where Lieutenant MacDowell and Sergeant Barth have been prowling about, three kilos deep into the enemy system, gaining information at the risk of their lives; Barth, with his knowledge of German parleying successfully in the dark with enemy sentries; both deserving the Distinguished Service Cross, but only the officer getting it. Sergeant, you too should have been decorated. Your citation appears in the "ice box" at the back of the book, along with a host of other deserving recommendations.

For the moment, there is peaceful silence, just as if the war were over -only the hushed voices of half-frozen men. For the most part, it is a silence of utter exhaustion. Occasionally, the short little words, "When do we eat?"

Those last days were terribly hard. We had never had any play days, no real rest or recreation-under shell fire and worse practically since June 20th. Time and again it had been rumored and actually announced by competent authority that NOW the 77th was to get a rest! But always, there had been just one more pressing job for the 77th to do.

Over four months in the line! An advance of thirty-seven kilometers since November 1st. An advance of fifty-nine kilometers since September 26th, under fire all the way! The men were fatigued when they began their advance of November. Losses had been heavy, particularly on that first day. Jerry had pulled out so fast that weary troops could not catch him. The frightfully torn condition of the ground, the abandoned ordnance, limbers and wagons and the slain horses, from which half starved civilians had hastily cut the steaks, attested the murderous work of our long-range and lighter artillery which had prevented the Boche from resetting his pieces into position, and which had made such a rapid advance possible.

That, and sheer grit. The troops had far outstripped the supply trains. One of the chiefest difficulties of the Argonne-Meuse Offensive had been the inadequacy of the roads. What there were had been bombed and mined to pieces by the retreating Boches. Of course, it would have been different during these last days, had it been known that newspapers were first screaming, "Peace," and then, " Fake," as early as the 8th. While little old New York was rehearsing its part for Monday the 11th, the innocent doughboy was still plodding his weary way along the heights of the Meuse, empty of food, but full of rumor -rumor of the relief which didn't come.

A thrilling order had once been received announcing in Paragraph '.No. I that the First Army Corps to which the 77th then belonged would be at once relieved by the Fifth Army Corps; in Paragraph No. 2 it went on to say that the 77thDivisionwas thereby transferred to the Fifth Army Corps! But to offset this, Buck had a buddy who was a runner at Brigade. The runner had been back in St. Juvin and had sure dope. He had seen a strange supply truck full of hay. On the hay rode a doughboy dressed in a civilian swallow-tail coat, and stovepipe hat, carrying a child's pink parasol. And he said- that he belonged to the 6th Division!

Here was news, indeed. About to be relieved by a bale of hay and a pink parasol! As a matter of fact, the, 6th was hastening from the rear; but it had been unable to catch up. Consequently, the rumor died. "Yeah, same old bull! "

On the night of the 10th, the Second Battalion's total of a hundred and fifty-two effective men were outposting the Meuse from Villers to the Pont de Garde. The phone jangled nervously; G Company was ordered out as a combat patrol over the river at Villers, and the scout officer with his crew and a reel of wire in the hands of the signal men ran a phone over the bridge to the old mill on the German side. The Battalion was in readiness to cross the river for an attack at any minute. Then, at midnight, a mysterious call from headquarters, not to act upon the information sought and to withdraw the patrols!

At dawn, Battalion Headquarters lay shivering in its funk-hole. Somewhere under the Adjutant's right shoulder blade the telephone rang again. It must have been a tremendous message; for not until the Staff had heard it repeated a number of times did its full import sink into his cranium; where-upon he (the Staff), his telephone, his entire equipment and the roof of the bivvy fell with an ecstatic crash upon the Battalion Commander's neck.

HEADQUARTERS FIRST ARMY CORPS

American Expeditionary Forces

11, November, 18. General Order No. 17.

EXTRACT

2. An armistice with Germany has been signed. All hostilities cease at 11 Hour, 11 November.

All communication with the enemy is forbidden pending definite and detailed instructions to the contrary. The fact must be emphasized in no uncertain manner that the present state of affairs is an armistice only and not a peace, and that there must be no relaxation of vigilance on the part of your command.

Advantage will be taken of the occasion to rehabilitate equipment, push training and prepare troops for further operations at any instant demanded by the situation.

All unit commanders will take special steps to insure a high state of discipline, and to this end division, brigade, regimental, battalion and smaller unit commanders will personally inspect organizations daily with a view to reporting their units equipped, trained and ready for service.

By command Of MAJOR-GENERAL DICKMAN.

MALIN CRAIG,

Chief of Staff Official:

W. A. HAVERFIELD,

Lieut.-Colonel, A. G. D.

The Armistice was a reality! There never was such a celebration as the one which ensued. No. There was very little noise. There were no horns to blow, no cowbells to ring, no strangers to pound on the back, no jobs to quit, no holiday. All such nonsense is for silly, civilized people who live in houses and work when not celebrating. The few men who were still in their holes-one could never keep the American doughboy under cover where he belonged-got out and stretched; stretched the kinks out of their rheumatic limbs.

But wait! It was not yet eleven, and there was to be no forward movement of troops after that hour. Under cover of the mist, Martin snaked his telephone back to the mill, crossing the rickety bridge at ten-fifty, while the Boches took their last devilish fling at him with their artillery. The men not on actual outpost duty were dragged forward into a couple of luxurious cowsheds, where the reserve cans of Corned Willie were cracked open with festive cheer and a bayonet. Oh-it should be said that the first thing they did was to build real, -honest-to-God fires-big ones, hot ones such as they hadn't seen for weeks, calculated to take the chill out of one's marrow in no time at all.

And lights at night, a whole row of them, without fear of calling down the aerial bombs and "whizz-bangs." Ever since we'd been in France, we had longed for the comfort of lights at night. Here they were, not only on our side of the river, but on the enemy's.

" Oh, I say, when do we really eat?"

CHAPTER IX

THE HARDEST BATTLE OF THE WAR

HA, ha! Thought I'd die laughing. Remember those last few shells they sent over? Well, one of them landed pretty near to 'Mess-Kit's' funk hole, an' just when one lit, I cracked ol' ' Mess-Kit' on the dome with a rock. He thought he was hit an' yelled somepin awful. 'I'm hit; first aid! first aid! "'

"Hey there, don't bunch up!" "Five pace intervals." "Fall out on the right and dig in!" "Put out that light!" A smile shone through the dirty, bearded faces as you sprang all those old wheezes during the night march back through Raucourt to St. Pierremont, where you couldn't sleep even on a nice, soft board now that the guns were silent. You promptly stuffed those corking Kentucky men, who joined us there, full with the stories of how you won the war.

Well, you helped. The Division of which you were a part feels that when General Pershing addressed to the First, Third and Fifth Corps his General Order No. 232, he was not unmindful of the work of the 77th:

G. H. Q.

American Expeditionary Forces

FRANCE, Dec. 19, 1918.

General Orders,

No. 232

It is with a sense of gratitude for its splendid accomplishment, which will live all through history, that I record in General Orders a tribute to the victory of the First Army in the Meuse-Argonne battle.

Tested and strengthened by the reduction of the St. Mihiel salient, for more than six weeks you battered against the pivot of the enemy line on the westen front. It was a position of imposing natural strength, stretching on both sides of the Meuse River from the bitterly contested hills of Verdun to the almost impenetrable forest of the Argonne; a position, more-over, fortified by four years of labor designed to render it impregnable; a position held with the fullest resources of the enemy. That position you broke utterly, and thereby hastened the collapse of the enemy's military power.

Soldiers of all the divisions engaged under the First, Third and Fifth Corps-the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, 7th, 26th, 28th, 29th, 32d, 33d, 35th, 37th, 42d, 77th, 78th 79th, 80th, 82d, 89th, 90th and 91st-you will be long remembered for the stubborn persistence of your progress, your storming of obstinately defended machine gun nests, your penetration, yard by yard, of woods and ravines, your heroic resistance in the face of counter attacks supported by powerful artillery fire. For more than a month, from the initial attack of September 26th, you fought your way slowly through the Argonne, through the woods and over hills west of the Meuse; you slowly enlarged your hold on the Cotes de Meuse to the east; and then, on the first of November you cleared the entire left bank of the Meuse south of Sedan, and then stormed the heights on the right bank and drove him into the plain beyond.

Your achievement, which is scarcely to be equaled in American history, must remain a source of proud satisfaction to the troops who participated in the last campaign of the war. The American people will remember it as the realization of the hitherto potential strength of the American contribution toward the cause to which they had sworn allegiance. There can be no greater reward for a soldier or for a soldier's memory.

This order will be read to all organizations at the first assembly formation after its receipt.

JOHN J. PERSHING, General, Commander in Chief, American Expeditionary Forces. Official:

ROBERT C. Davis,

Adjutant-General.

In his first complete report to Secretary of War Baker, the Commander in Chief of the American Expeditionary Forces said in part: " The strategical goal which was our highest hope was gained. We had cut the enemy's main line of communications and nothing but surrender or an armistice could save his army from complete disaster."

Of those who went on leave at that critical juncture, is there one who doesn't now credit himself with being a wise old owl, having escaped one of the hardest hikes in history? There is another order, which carries the memory back over those nine days of hiking from St. Pierremont to the sea of mud in the Chaumont area; over the ground so bitterly contested during the two months just past; over a dinnerless Thanksgiving and well beyond the rumor which would have placed you on the water by December 10th; over the stiff rebukes you sustained for bellowing derisively, "Who won the war? The M. P.'s!! Who laid down the barrage? The Y. M. C. A.!!"

HEADQUARTERS 77TH DIVISION

American E. F.

December 1, 1918. MEMORANDUM:

The 77th Division has taken part in the campaign which has just closed; a campaign which with its successful termination marks the end of the war in which we have been engaged so far as the immediate active operations are concerned; with credit to itself and resulting profit to our country and our cause.

The Division in the past three months of its history has nothing whatever for which to apologize. It has carried out the missions intrusted to it and has possessed at all times the aggressive spirit essential to success in war.

We are now about to enter upon another phase of our service as soldiers of the United States. That phase involves a continued readiness for such operations as may become necessary in the future. This involves improvement in our knowledge of the finer technique of the military profession so that even should no active operations now ensue, each officer and man of this Division will carry back with him into civil life such knowledge of his service as a soldier as will render him, individually, as trainer and commander, most available to the country in the event of another emergency.

With this purpose in view the Division is now to go into a period of training. It must have been evident to all that our success in the operations in which we have been engaged has been due in great measure more to the aggressive spirit of our officers and men than to our knowledge of the finer technique of the military profession. As a consequence of this, while we have been successful, while we have accomplished the results which superior authority has expected of us, we have at the same time probably paid more dearly for that success than should have been the case had our training been further advanced. The Division Commander therefore expects that a real-ization of our deficiencies in the finer technique of training will suffice to keep our hearts in the work which lies before us. The Division now has an excellent reputation; it is our duty and our privilege to demonstrate, during the period of training upon which we are about to enter, that that reputation is founded not merely upon the evanescent success of battle where we have the excitement of combat to keep us keyed up to the proper pitch, but that we also possess that steadfastness of heart and determination which will cause us to do our best under any conditions which confront us. The Division Commander is convinced that we do possess those qualities of steadfastness and determination and that no criticism can be made against us on that score.

Those who will observe us will pass judgment upon the outward marks of discipline and instruction. As a matter of fact no other standard is possible. Those outward indications are: promptness and smartness in saluting, neatness and cleanliness in dress and equipment, good condition of animals, and cleanliness and good order around billets and cantonments. The Division Commander is convinced that all will endeavor to set an example in these items and thus maintain, during the period of training set before us, the high esteem which the Division has won in combat so that we may return to our homes, when the proper time comes for such return, retaining that esteem as the result of a demonstrated ability to do our full duty not only in combat but under any and all circumstances.

ROBERT ALEXANDER,

Major-General, Commanding.

The above memorandum will be read to all organizations at the first formation after its receipt.

By Command Of MAJOR-GENERAL ALEXANDER.

M. W. HOWZE,

Acting Chief of Staff.

Distribution down to include companies.

"Now that we've won the war, they're trying to make soldiers out of us," wailed the everlasting critic in the ranks. When not pushing through the thickest woods on the rainiest days, surrounding some "greaseball" banging on a canteen with a rock as you should have surrounded machine guns in the Argonne, you were climbing a hill to the happy drilling grounds or were on on a weird, all-day maneuver at the other end of the Province Haute-Marne where someone was probably trying to justify the action of the "Lost Battalion." At three-thirty a runner found you and the rest of your imaginary unit in the middle of a wilderness, with the cheerful message that the problem had been called off at twelve-fifteen.

In the little towns of Autreville, Valdelancourt, St. Martin, La Ville-neuve and Montheries, now in command of Colonel Raymond Sheldon, the first and never-ending duty was to clean up, to remove the aforementioned indices to civilian wealth and position as discussed in the Lorraine Chapter; next, to police yourselves and remain policed despite the mud and the shortage of clothes; then, to dodge the Corps and Division inspectors or to satisfy them on all the little points listed in the pamphlet. It was difficult enough to please them. In the words of the Regular Army men: " These Reserve Officers are nice enough boys. They mean well; but they don't know-they just don't know. Yet they are being paid--" Here the Reserve Officer feels like remarking caustically: "Yes, a short while ago we were earning far more than the one-sixty-six, sixty-seven, whereas those who are now getting much more, were then earning the one-sixty-six, sixty-seven."

An inspector approaches a company commander; he says nothing.

"'Mornin', sir," says the captain, saluting punctiliously.

"Well? Is that the way you address yourself to an inspector?"

"Reckon it is, sir," drawls the captain, smiling in real Southern fashion. "Tell me who you are," imperiously.

" Cap'nClarkcommandingCompany E 305th Infantry!

"Very good. Now let me see one of your billets." Inspector and inspected walk off in tremulous silence.

"What is this doing here? " The inspector kicks a pile of blankets lying in a corner.

"Look out there!" whines a feeble voice as its tousled owner peers from beneath the blankets, hastily covers his head in mortification, uncovers it again and makes as if to salute.

" Why aren't you drilling?"

"'Cause I'm sick."

, 'What's the matter with you?

"I dunno, sir."

"Did you report on Sick Call last night?"

" No, sir. "

"Why didn't you?"

, "Cause I wasn't sick then."

Having ascertained that the American Army is in good health, the inspector moves off to another part of town. "Show me the nearest kitchen," he says to a member of the neighboring company; the latter, being a man of infinite resource and sagacity, conducts the officer to a kitchen behind the Chateau.

" Whose kitchen is this?" growls the inspector. " It's the filthiest thing I've ever seen! "

"That's the Colonel's Mess," grins the adroit youth, who can hardly conceal his gloating satisfaction.

"Take me to your company commander!" orders the dignitary; where-upon the aforesaid Intelligent Youth conducts Inspector to the company's best looking billet, excuses himself and hastens to warn the captain, who reports in haste. The first captain interviewed has already tipped off the other as to the proper mode of address; consequently the preliminaries are quickly over.

"Where is the sign which should appear on the door of the billet stating how many are quartered here and who is in charge?"

"The rain must have washed it off, sir," hoping that the other billets will not be inspected.

"These beds are pretty crowded. Are the men sleeping as prescribed?"

"Yes, sir; nose to-er, head to foot, sir. I inspect the billets every night. "

"That underwear should not hang in the sleeping quarters."

"It must dry somewhere, sir."

"Don't dry it in the sleeping quarters. Set aside one of your rooms for a sort of laundry. Put a stove in it, and keep it hot."

" Sir, every available room is used for sleeping purposes. This is a mighty poor town. The Mayor cannot give us another inch of space. Besides, no stoves have been issued. This is the only fireplace in the building; but then, the issue of fuel is so meagre that it all goes to the kitchen fires. These clothes dry out a little during the day, and are further dried by whatever sort of fire the men can scrape together at night." (They steal the wood.)

"My boy," begins the inspector, feeling that he approaches the point where he can pull the favorite old Army gag and pass the buck; " don't say it can't be done. That word is not in our dictionary. Now, the real soldier, the real officer, is the one who utilizes every means at his disposal to accom-plish his object. When the proper materials are not forthcoming, he must exercise his ingenuity and initiative. He takes even the old tin can from the- Have your men shower baths? Then take a number of tin cans, punch holes in the bottom and The Company Commander begins to get a little red behind the ears, for he hates to be called down before even the few men who happen to be sick in quarters, and silently follows the rasping voice of the inspector through the building into the yard.

"That pit is full of water. Dig a new one."

"That pit has just been dug, sir. The ground about here is so low and the rains so constant that-"

" Oh, I know. We had all those very same things to contend with in the Philippines. It can be done somehow. Do you hang a lantern in that door-way at night?"

"No, sir. There have been no lanterns issued, and we cannot buy them even with the company funds. The Supply Company can issue no oil for the few lamps we've obtained from the civilians. Twelve candles are issued each day for two hundred and fifty men; but most of them have to be used in the Orderly Room, where the work is going on far into the night."

"Do you maintain at the kitchen the two barrels of boiling water, one soapy and the other clear, and another of cold water, for the men to wash their mess kits in?"

"No, sir. We haven't been issued the G. I. cans; and besides, there is only enough fuel to cook the food with."

"Have you any recreation room, where the men can read at night?

"I should say we haven't, sir. As I said before, all the available rooms are used for the billeting. There are no books in town; there are no candles by which to read-if the men felt like doing anything after a hard day of drill but rush to the warm saloon. There is a Y. M. C. A. hut with a dirt floor and no equipment. Sir, I felt a few minutes ago that you did me a great injustice, calling me down before my men. I admit I haven't been in the service quite two years; but I've been in it long enough to know that I'm sick and tired of this 'passing the buck!"' He hopes the inspector has a spark of human sympathy left, after the rigors of the Philippines.

"What do you mean-passing the buck! " This indignantly.

" Sir, I mean just that. I am ordered to do things without the necessary wherewithal. If the Army really wanted those things done, it would supply the equipment, instead of passing the buck. I am the only officer on duty now with this company. I am ordered to attend Reveille and to conduct in person the ten minutes setting up exercise preceding it. I am ordered to be at the kitchen to inspect the serving of all meals; I am ordered to inspect the billets before drill. I drill all morning, rain or shine, as the orders require. I inspect the noon meal. I drill in the afternoon, inspect the guard detail, and -perhaps perform the duties of the Officer of the Day. I stand Retreat. I conduct the non-com.'s school for another hour. I inspect the evening meal, and then attend to all the foolish orders, which arrive at night. In the meantime, I have to live, and am required to be neat in appearance at all times. I am held personally responsible for equipment, the cleanliness, the health and happiness of this company. And yet I am told to do foolish things with tin cans! The men aren't happy. They have miserable quarters and get too much bully beef. An order says that only the Brigade Commander is authorized to permit the drill indoors during inclement weather. Not one day yet has been decreed inclement. The other morning we drilled until noon in a terrible downpour. At one o'clock I sought permission to remain indoors, but we were sent out again in wet clothes in the continuous downpour. The men have no change of clothes. They come back drenched to the skin, with no welcome but a dirt floor on which their blankets are stretched, with no wood for a fire, with no candles for light, and meagre cheer. They are out there now drilling in wet clothes!"

"It isn't raining now. Why aren't the blankets out airing?"

" Because it was raining when the men went out to drill, and in all probability it will be raining again, in a few minutes."

"Well, there are some things which the supply departments might improve. I will make a note of the wood situation. Oh, be sure to keep the men's shoes well oiled, and don't let them put their drying pair too near the fire. How are your other billets? "

C ' Er, about the shoes. They have on now their only pair. There is no dubbin. The shoes cannot possibly be kept neat and clean, for the mud they drill in reaches almost to the shoe-tops. I'll take you to the shacks where two other platoons are gradually sinking out of sight in the mud. Ha! It's raining now,"

"Well, I'll see what I can do," and he's off to inspect someone else.

The poor, down-trodden doughboy has something to say, too:

In the army they call me a Private.

It is a misnomer.

There is nothing private about me.

I have been questioned and examined by fifty physicians, and they haven't missed a blemish.

I have told my numerous occupations and my salary.

I have confessed to being unmarried.

I have nothing in my past that is not revealed.

I sleep in a room with fifty men.

I cat with three hundred and wash my mess kit in the same can.

I take my bath with the entire company.

I wear a suit of the same material and cut as five million other men.

I have to tell where I want to go when I take a walk and even then I never see anyone but soldiers-privates like myself.

I have never a moment to myself.

And yet, they call me a private.

Private!

What the hell!

(For three years I supported a wife and child and now I'm told when to go to bed!)

Aw-but it wasn't all as bad as that-not until the first few days after the move to Mayenne. Things straightened out somehow. The Y. M. C. A. bucked up and did some good work. The canteens opened. I Company worked up a pretty good show, the chief attraction of which was Private Martin, the female impersonator, who exercised his wiles upon numerous celebrities of the Regiment. With the funds donated by the faithful Auxiliary wonderful Christmas dinners were purchased in Chaumont-whither those with large company funds would journey each weekend to return with a cart-load of veal, or mutton, dried fruit and vegetables. One enterprising company bought, for a fortune, as many as sixty hens from the neighboring towns, fattened them up and had a wonderful feast.

But there were those who missed their Christmas dinner. It was said benignly in the newspapers that President Wilson spent the day with his soldiers. Would he have done it, had he realized that in order to manufacture that riot of a review at Humes, two hundred and fifty picked soldiers from each regiment had to drill all Sunday, Monday and Tuesday in the rain, board motor trucks at four o'clock in the morning and spend nearly all of Christmas day on the road? Yet, those who were chosen were flattered, got new equipment out of it and the envied Liberty Insignia which looked as if Goldberg had designed it.

Already, it is January. A few leaves are granted; but-oh, if we could only be sent home! The 27th Division is going to sail. The 77th hangs on, though it preceded the other division to France. It cannot go, of course, until the threatened epidemic of typhoid is suppressed. "I gave orders two weeks ago," thunders the General, "that this typhoid fever should stop. It has not stopped!"

A doughboy found himself on leave in Aix les Bains. It was in the year 1930. There was Uncle Sam coming down the street.

"Hello, Nephew! " said Uncle Sam.

"Hello, Uncle," said the doughboy.

" What are you doing here?" asked Uncle Sam. "I thought all the American soldiers were back in the States."

"Still here," replied the boy dejectedly.

"What division do you belong to? "

"The 77th."

"By Heck! That's so," exclaimed the dear old absent-minded fellow. " I'd plumb forgotten all about you!"

Rumor has it that early in February we are to move down to the celestial Le Mans area to be cleaned up, prior to the sailing for home. The town crier passes through the streets, beating his drum and shouting to all good citizens that the Americans are leaving shortly-and that all claims, justified and imaginary, should be put in at once.

The citizens bestir themselves, take inventory of every scrap of refuse that has been hanging around for years, and file their claims with the Mayor.

Madam Haschette has been feeding her pigs on the leavings from the Supply Company kitchen, the Mess Sergeant being only too glad to have her take the stuff away. For some days, she has been casting a loving eye in the direction of a kettle full of beef drippings, which the cooks suddenly use for a batch of steaming doughnuts.

Gesticulating wildly, almost tearing her hair out by the roots, the good woman descends in voluble wrath upon the Company Commander with a claim for fifty francs! Those beef drippings rightly belonged to her. (This is about the only claim which the Americans succeed in side-stepping.)

Four or five pickets disappear from a fence built just after the War of 1870. Claim: forty francs. The coping has fallen from a stone wall; ten meters of wall-at ten francs per meter. Claim: one hundred francs. Two beehives are overturned, the bees absent, the honey unaccounted for. Since the burden of proof in such cases lies with the accused, the company whose area lies nearest the hives is the loser. An imaginary pile of wood is claimed to have been stolen; fifty francs. But since the Americans and French, as said before, are brothers, Monsieur Marechal comes down to ten, and sets up the drinks.

But ah! Here is a deep one! The Town Commandant writes to Captain Siebert: " One of your neighbors reports that one rooster and five hens disappeared from a shed near your Signal Platoon. This is nothing less than plain stealing and cannot be glossed over. Investigate."

The Captain goes over to one of his neighbors and says in fluent French, "Avvy voo lost cinq chickens?" The neighbor says, "No." The Captain reports the findings to the Town Commandant, who 'lows as how that ain't the right neighbor, and proceeds to investigate, for himself. Here is the shed 1; foot-prints, gore, feathers. Unmistakable signs of a terrible carnage. Five hens are still cowering wild-eyed in a corner, suffering from nervous prostra-tion. If Monsieur Legrand formerly had ten and a rooster it is certain that the others must be A. W. 0. L. Oh, no! He couldn't have sold them'.

The Supply Company advertises a big chicken dinner for the coming Sunday; but such evidence is purely circumstantial. H Company is billeted in the next street over; looks bad for H. E Company had a couple of recal-citrants picked up in the street that fatal night; but that is nothing out of the way. The finger of suspicion undoubtedly points to the Headquarters Company, though the First Sergeant swears the blood on the Orderly Room door-sill resulted from the company mechanic having cut a finger. Therefore ', all four companies are finally ordered to chip in, purchasing out of their coin-pany funds an ephemeral portion of vanished chicken for every man in town.

At last, we are off, in the coldest touch of winter since the bitter days at Upton. At the most inconvenient hours of the night, the companies file through the snow drifts to B ricon, leaving enough equipment behind to supply the next shift of troops, despite the earnest efforts of officers and non-coms to leave not a trace of the occupation. But the laxity of the front lines is gradually passing. No longer can the men have an issue of clothing for the asking. They enter the Province of Mayenne with all their possessions listed upon the "Form 637."

Here is a different sort of country; rather picturesque but muddy and all cut up by foolish little ditches and hedges. But real people live in the neighborhood, many of the nobility, with spacious grounds and large chateaux. The bulk of the Third Battalion captures the prize, when it draws the town of St. Denis d'Anjou. Bou&re, where Regimental Headquarters and most of both the First and Fourth Battalions are quartered, is so promising that Major Metcalf--now a Lieutenant-Colonel-has all the houses numbered, and gives perfectly grand names to all the streets: " Rue Marechal Foch ... .. Place Wilson," and all the rest. For a couple of weeks the Second Battalion shifts disconsolately 'round and 'round Biern6, like a dog trying to make up his mind just where to sit down, and finally locates enough outlying farm buildings for its needs.

" All subordinate commanders will immediately take steps to improve the condition in and around billets of the organizations."

An order beginning in this wise overtakes one of the company commanders while high-stepping through the miles of mud which separate the five farms in which his two hundred and fifty babies are billeted. They are in disconsolate hay lofts, stepping about gingerly lest they fall through the cracks, debating whether to stuff the borrowed straw into the ch;nks against the wintry blast, or burrow into it for warmth. Stoves, if they had 'em, would doubtless set fire to the barns-and so, stoves and fires are forbidden. Grub time; they clamber down a ladder into the darkness of the cow-stable, where comrades not so fortunate make their home.

"If I am going to sleep here," wails a voice in the darkness, "steps must be taken to clean that cow."

The order continues: "Kitchens: Particular attention will be given to kitchens. (1) Walks will be laid and suitable steps will be taken to keep the ground well drained in and about the kitchens. (2) Bins, etc., for the storing of rations will be constructed from the boxes in which the rations are received. (3) Stringers will be laid on the ground to prevent all foodstuffs from touching the ground in any way."

A kitchen presupposes a range of some sort with fire under it. For a week there is one small field range to the company, suitable for feeding perhaps a hundred and fifty - but the government has utterly forgotten the question of fuel. Those who still have a little money in the company fund buy some wet rotten roots at an exorbitant price from the neighbors, and the few small boxes which come with the rations provide the only scraps of dry kindling with which to start the fires. Particular attention is given to the kitchen without command; the men take steps toward it three times a da , assembling from the more distant parts of France; but they see no bins until the government takes another half-step and provides a bit of fuel-a species of pressed coal dust which sifts through the grates without burning. Stone is poured into the yard which serves as kitchen, but it sinks out of sight in the mud. Attempt is made to drain the area, but still each foot print fills at once with water. Stringers are not provided. If they were, who could resist the temptation to steal the first real piece of inflammable wood to enter the area?

But to continue reading the order: " (4) All steps necessary for a most sanitary condition about the kitchen will be taken."

The Surgeon of the area has no horse. He succeeds in the course of one half day in making the rounds of one company, returns to his billet in disgust, scrapes the mud off his legs from the knees down, and makes criticisms from his desk thereafter. "Dig a hole and bury the garbage," he sagely writes, thus earning his salary for the day. Holes are dug, which fill with water, ere any garbage can be thrown in.

"Assembly Rooms: (1) Each organization will set apart a particular room or rooms where the men can assemble."

If there be an empty room anywhere about the area suitable for assembling, why, in Heaven's name not take a few unfortunates out of the cow stable and billet them properly? Besides, orders have been given for the men not to assemble, lest epidemics spread among them.

" (2) These rooms will be used for writing rooms, and be provided with such equipment as will enable the men to amuse themselves in their spare time." Warmth-stoves and wood-paper, ink, pens; tables, benches or the wood to make 'em out of; checkers, cards, reading matter; candles or lamps. Here is a great chance for the company commander to use his proverbial ingenuity and his far-famed, well-known initiative, fabricating these things out of nothing. Ali, stoves arrive! But the issue of fuel is so microscopic that none can be di-verted for any use but that of the kitchen stove.

" (3) The cooperation of the Red Cross, Y. M. C. A., K. of C. and other similar organizations will be sought in securing the necessary equipment for these rooms." In the course of four weeks, a few full steps are successfully taken. Six games of checkers arrive - a table has been borrowed, a room found and a meager issue of candles pieced out with what the men can buy.

Ali! Here is the paragraph which the company commander always expects: "This work calls for considerable initiative upon the part of all officers, and it will be the duty of each and every organization commander to detail an officer and make it his especial duty to get this work well under way and supervise it. By the exercise of initiative and ingenuity, considerable progress can be made with this work to the great benefit of the troops."

Initiative and ingenuity! How the buck is passed! Invariably the Regular Army Officer in higher command passes off the lack of proper supplies and equipment by saying: " I've been a company commander and I know these things can be done." Yes, we say-to ourselves-you had three officers, sergeants with years of service, and about eighty men in your company; there was no real war; no French town to billet in; and no homesick mob on your hands.

But the steps must go on. One supposes that if on some fine, cold night the steps should be taken from the porch of the Mairie, immediate steps would have to be taken to replace the steps which had been taken.

The Machine Gunners are off by themselves in miserable billets; but they have a good ball-field; and presently a good ball team is evolved to play in the Division League. But even without a ball-field, G Company in Bierne considers itself in luck. On that first cold night of their arrival, February 11th, seven officers of the Second Battalion were not at all happy over the prospect of walking a kilo out into the country, to dine with the Mayor. But when they entered the lovely Chateau de la Barre, and were there given the keys to the city by the genial Baron de Chivre and his attractive family, things were looking up. In fact, a great many officers of the Regiment promptly came over to look up those who were on the inside-until within a very short time, almost any bright afternoon might disclose a group of en-thusiasts playing "bazz-boll" in the courtyard. Many an indoor baseball fell into the moat. And many a cup of tea was stirred after four-at any day of the week one chose to sneak away from the irksome military routine. Major Bozeman Bulger, who came over to guide the Second Battalion through the perils of March and April, after Major "Bill" Mack had made a terrible mistake and elected to attend a French University, at one time made the following report to the Division Publicity Officer:

" The officers and enlisted men of Company G are engaged in solving a problem so absorbing in detail that for the present it has made them forget the anxiety over heading for Amerique-that interesting country across the seas.

"Naming a horse, especially a petite femme cheval, is not as easy as one might think, especially after studying the specifications laid down by the three young daughters of the Baron de Chivre. Any soldier having any doubt on the subject may report to the commanding officer of Co. G and get a try out.

"This petite femme cheval, as the Baroness calls it, came into existence in the stall next to that occupied by a corporal and squad of Company G. This company, by the way, is entirely billeted in the stables of the Chateau de la Barre, where the Baron de Chivr6, a former Major in the French Dragoons, breeds race horses. This thoroughbred atmosphere has given a lot of morale to Company G; and Lieutenant Murphy, commanding, has had little difficulty of late in making the men keep their heads up. They also like the Baron very much; and any soldier comes to present arms by intuition when one of the Baron's young daughters passes the P. C. But that is all aside from the problem. That petite cheval has got to be named. Mlle. Catherine de Chivre says it must also have an American name, on account of it coming into life among American soldiers; also that the name must begin with a 'T' on ac-count of the ancestry of the tiny little animal. You may not know it, but this petite cheval has a grandfather who won the Grand Prix de Paris and an uncle who won the Derby.

" 'Il faut que les soldats Americains give to the cheval its name," insists the Baroness."

"'Aussi,' chimes in the seventeen-year Mlle. Jacqueline de Chivre. 'Il est necessaire a remem-ber que it iss une petite femme.'

"'C'est ca,' observes the first sergeant, that being all that he knows how to say; but the corporal adds 'Exactement making everything all right.

" The first name suggested was 'Toot-sweet, a private having an idea of speed, especially toward home. Objections were raised on the ground that it was not 'Americaine.' Then came 'T. N. V (heavy stuff) from a buck who lives down near Sheepshead Bay.

Lieutenent Murphy suggested 'Tippecanoe,' but it was impossible to get the idea of the American Indian home to the French nobility. Somebody then suggested 'Topsy,' 'Tennessee,' 'Totem,' 'Trop Vite,' 'Take Cover,' 'Top Sergeant' (here there was a chorus of noes), 'Tip Toe,' etc.

"And there it stands. Nothing has been decided. None of them are sufficiently 'jolie' or suggestive of all the specifications according to the Mademoiselles; and the soldiers have gone back to their stalls to think it over.

"In the meantime Lieutenant Murphy is preparing a memorandum for the Intelligence and Operations Officers with request that helpful aid be given 'by written endorsement hereon.'

"The Baron says that, if necessary, the official christening can be put off until word comes from America. This petite femme cheval is not in the army and the dam and sire do not require a report submitted 'not later than 6 P. M. today.'

The Regimental Show begins to take on a professional air, the Jewish Welfare Board opens up a tent in Biern6 and invites the Episcopalian Chaplain to conduct a Catholic Mass therein; the entertainment officers and the athletic officers find plenty to do. Life wouldn't be quite so bad if it weren't for the constant reviews, hiking at four in the morning with the unexpended portion of the day's rations in order to go over into the next county to show the General that the shoes are still muddy. Many a company commander has often wondered what would happen if he should yield to temptation and bring his company upon the field with packs full of straw instead of the ordinary weighty contents-what would happen if he were then unexpectedly given the command to lay out full equipment! He might be seen leaping over the distant horizon like a gazelle, headed straight for the nearest base port. As an alternative, he might burst into tears and say " Do your worst, Gen."

Miss Turner and Miss Weeks, who operate the Y. M. C. A. canteen in B ouere, swear that they never did say, sweetly, "Bring your cups to Mother, Buddy." Nevertheless, the chocolate they pour out and which they indefatigably cart to all points wherever troops gather, threatens to put some of the cafes out of business. The madame who runs the estaminet across the street can't understand why the authorities should close up her shop at an early hour, while the " Cafe Christian" runs full tilt.

One has to confess at this point that f or some, the " Y. M. C. A. cognac " did not appear completely satisfying-not with the Prohibitionists voting America dry, while they were far off and could have no say. Despite the constant pressure, cognac continued to be sold, which occasioned a bit of work-sorry to admit-for the Courts Martial.

The General Court convenes in Bouere at ten-thirty, to ladle out justice. By eleven o'clock, all but two of the members have arrived. No doubt the feather-beds and wash-stand detract somewhat from the dignity of the court-room. But no matter!

"Hullo, Bob! How are you? Billets comfortable? That so? Yeah, same old story, isn't it."

Only one missing, now.

"I declare, it's warmer with the window open than with it closed. No, I guess it's warmer with it closed. Close the window, will you, Bob? Some-ne see if they can't steal a few bits of fire-wood from the old lady. These tile floors are brutally cold-particularly for a bedroom. How th~ devil do you work this fireplace?-Oh, ah, oui, oui, Madame, beaucoup! "

Ah! Eleven-thirty; all present. "There, Lieutenant, sit down at the extreme right."

Counsel enters with the accused. The judges are sworn. The court is sworn. The reporter is sworn. Everybody swears to everything, so help them God. The accused-is he the accused? He 'lows as how he is. Does the accused object to being tried by any member of the court as constituted? Passing up the opportunity of telling what he really thinks of the third officer from the left, be steals a furtive glance at the members who glower dignifiedly from their uncomfortable bench and rest their august elbows upon the plank- and-saw-horse table. The trial proceeds.

Court is closed. Court is opened, but justice is delayed until the prisoner, who has just stepped over to the caf6, can be found. Ah, here he is. The cigarettes are hastily subdued beneath the table. Court closes again. It opens again. It quivers. A little more of this setting-up exercise, and the court will be able to open and close at will.

Accused elects to make a statement, setting forth the mitigating circumstances:

" When I was very young I couldn't talk. In fact, for a long time I couldn't talk at all. But when I got a little older, 1 finally learned to talk a little better. Then I went to school. I went to school and was verv nervous. All this time, I was learning to talk-"

"The accused is reminded," suggests the President of the Court, breaking all precedents, "to confine-"

"I object," interposes counsel.

"Objection sustained," from the judge Advocate.

-learning to talk. Then I left school. I wasn't very strong. Oh, I forgot-I was born in Brooklyn. I wasn't strong. I was weak. And I went to work in a box factory-in Brooklyn-making boxes. I couldn't get along very well-making boxes-but I could talk a little better by this time. Then, one day, a piano fell on me. I learned to play the piano-"

" Come to the facts," risks the President. (Short and snappy-like, ere the counsel can leap to his feet and object.) Bobby Morgan's Siberian mouse-hound thinks he heard a command of execution, emerges from beneath the table, yawns, and sniffs the prisoner. Captain McKay's wandering pencil decorates another square foot of board. The members begin to fidget, hoping the court will soon be closed again, and feel of their coat pockets to see if the cigarettes are handy.

"-the piano. Then I got a job in a feed place, in Brooklyn. Hay and straw and feed. One day I fell out of the loft, and I couldn't talk for two days. Then a bale of hay fell on me out of the second story. I decided that this work was too hard for me, and so I got another job, in New York this time, 28 Vesey Street, I think. No, it was 38. No, I'm pretty sure it was 28."

Twenty-eight minutes later the defense rests. So does everybody else. Six-and-six. " justice is done.

What point have we got to now, in this story? Isn't it almost time to shut up shop and call it a war? Aren't the troops of the Three Hundred and Fifth about to leave for the United States? Not just yet, for there is still to be a merry, mad whirl of inspections-inspections for this, inspections for that -all equipment, no equipment; inspections for, er-cooties, too.

"You will report by such and such a date," the order reads, "that -your regiment is free from louse-infestation. The Division Surgeon reports 'that the degree of infestation in your command is one per cent."

The adjutant wonders if that means one louse per man; but being a stickler for precise English, he finds it very simple to comply with the order. He pigeon-holes it, and on 4 ' such and such" a date writes to the Powers That Be: "In compliance with Order so and so, this Regiment is reported free from louse-infestation."

But that doesn't seem to purify the command. A machine is brought to town, which looks like a cross between an incinerator and a farm tractor. It is most efficient-it burns not only the cooties, but the clothes. A couple of privates in the Sanitary Corps chose at random out of a thousand men in their Battalion a certain number to be purged. But liaison is lacking, the companies are not informed, and again, the company commanders "reply by endorsement hereon" why the men are not free from "louse-infestation."

The matter is becoming serious. A "louse" officer is designated in each company, whose delectable task it is to go right down the line scrutinizing in the broad light of day the inner surfaces of man's most intimate apparel. Segregation, new clothes, sunshine, the water cure, kerosene, gasoline-every known means of purifying the command is attempted. But the process does not end with that.

It is said that the one hundred lousiest men will be sent to the Army of Occupation-the Army of no occupation, the boys call it. It is said, too, that the lousiest company with its officers will go as well. Why treat the Third Army in that fashion? Or the Germans, for that matter? Anyhow, these threats and an utterly, incomprehensible louse contest succeed in boiling down the Regiment to a handful of known offenders. We boil their clothes. Only one case of infestation remains. Presently the marked man reports that a new outfit of clothes and a rigorous ob-servation on the part of the Sanitary Detachment have rendered him absolutely free. As he speaks a big gray-back saunters over the neckband of his blouse, and "shimmies" three times around the collar ornament are dying by the hand of the officer to whom the report is made. The Regiment is pure!

Now for a round of gaiety, to make us think that the A. E. F. is a great institution! The General gives a royal party at his castle in Sable. All officers are ordered to a lecture in that same town, to hear what tremendous things the A. E. F. accomplished. Major Harris gives a dance and Promotion Party for the Chaplain at the Hotel St. Denis. A formal luncheon is staged at one of our numerous chateaux in honor of the nobility of the region who have been so kind to us; two of them ap-pear. Dear old Poire, demobilized, comes down to gloat over his old compatriots still in the Army, and is wined and dined for three days straight, the following tribute being paid to him by Captain Kenderdine-as soon as "Phil" Gray would stop talking:

" Two or three pictures of Lieutenant Poire stand out vividly in my mind.

"One of these is at Camp Madelon, where we were in reserve position before the jump-off of September 26th. It was here that Lieutenant Poire perpetrated the greatest fraud ever perpetrated by a Frenchman on the American Government. He convinced us that the one way to solve our transportation problem was by the use of twelve French asses Furthermore, Lieutenant Poire in-sisted upon our calling these little animals asses when they were nothing but mules. Their title and presence around Regimental Headquarters cause much amusement and gave the cue for many jests.

"Personally, I cannot remember ever having seen these asses. I am sure they existed, though ( I believe in a little, abandoned water hole near Regimental Headquarters), for Lieutenant Poire kept reminding me of their existence by insisting that they could not travel more than half as far in a day as we wanted them to, and that their ration of hay and oats had to be weighed to the last ounce before each meal and fed to them with a spoon.

"One day when I was dizzy with details preparatory to the jump-off, a very seedy-looking French soldier wandered into the P. C. and told me he wanted to see the French asses. My suspicions were aroused. I suggested to him that he communicate with them in writing and that I would have them answer by endorsement. But after pestering me with several minutes of 'Comprenez-vous' and 'qu 'est ce que c'est,' he convinced me that he really had to see the asses.

" I had convinced him that he might have his wish, however, and bawled out 'Runner! take this man to the French asses,' and dismissed the matter from my mind. In fifteen minutes the runner returned, saluted and reported: 'Sir, Lieutenant Poir6 is asleep."'

Following which, the First Battalion gives a dance in Boue're.

For enlisted men only.

Oh-there is one officer present, beating a dilapidated piano.

A second lieutenant.

Look at the old court-house.

The rough brick floor.

Hob nails.

Seven girls, recruited from the neighboring canteens.

Four million men awaiting their turn.

They wear red, white, or blue ribbons.

At seven P. M. a burly sergeant of the guard with a small but select detachment

parades once about the floor, subtly reminding the boys to don their party manners.

waster of Cere-monies blows the whistle and shouts,

Reds."

The fight is on.

The red ribbons

dash madly for the seven trembling girls. Two sergeants grab at a slender right arm. Two corporals clutch the left.

The same victim is variously attacked by five others, simultaneously; But the private whose 0. D. clasps her waist retains the prize. Twice around the floor. The whistle blows again. "Blues." Master of Ceremonies wears blue. He is suspected of having waited until that little blonde came near. Four times around, this time. " Whites." The whites swarm over the dancing blues. He loses who taps the dancing male politely. The cave man always wins. Perspiring red faces. Ye Antique Boston Dip, knees bumping the floor. Bodies bobbing up and down like jumping-jacks. Shoulders quivering like insane walking-beams. Breathless conversation. Reds, whites, blues again and again in rapid succession. And then some. No relief for the Queen Bees.

At 10:30 the four remaining candles are spluttering. The Second Lieutenant at the piano is now pounding on wood. He is unconscious. The war is over when Lieut.-Colonel Herr mercifully appears to invite seven weary heroines, hair disheveled, boots streaked with mud, blue aprons awry, to partake of sandwiches and coffee at Headquarters. " Goo-night, Miss. See y' at th' Canteen termorra. "

"Figure it out for yourself," says the doughboy. "We've been in this area two months, a hundred and fifty miles from Brest. The Atlantic Ocean is three thousand miles wide. Figure it out" The hardest battle of the war is not yet won. But presently, the couriers' motorcycles wear out; the com-manding officer's car falls apart; the telephones are taken down; the ration limbers are scrubbed, polished, examined under a microscope and turned in, the 15th of April approaches and Lieut.-Colonel Herr can hardly wait until his Regiment pulls out with a clean bill from the inhabitants. An American locomotive rustles us down to Brest overnight. There we are amazed at the order and efficiency of a debarkation camp which calamity howlers had pro-nounced a hole. The men are examined, inspected, and pronounced perfect.

We see the Mount Vernon sail on the 18th, bearing the Division Commander. Our Aquitania pulls out of port the next day and passes it. We survive an epidemic of the "flu." We listen to the band-which by this time is some band. We see the poor old Personnel Officer gradually going stark mad from a surfeit of paper work. We prick our thumbs sewing a second gold service stripe upon the left sleeve and feel that when the Auxiliary steams down the harbor with the Committee of Welcome they will feel mighty darned proud of us.

They do-on the 24th. The Statue of Liberty would look pretty good, if the rain didn't almost completely obscure it. "Old Girl," says an old-timer, "if you ever look me in the face again, you'll have to turn 'round on your pedestal! "

" Willie, Oh, Will-ee! " shrieks a voice up from a tiny gasolene launch. And Sergeant Bill, too bashful for any display of emotion, at the same time perfectly willing to convey the impression that he has forgotten all the English he ever knew, shouts back at his sweetheart, "No compree. "

How did these men feel about their homecoming? Who knows? They -were too happy to express it. All they cared about was a reunion with the folks. They got it so on. Those ten days at Camp Mills, preceding the parade up Fifth Avenue on the 6th of May, going through the formality of another cleaning, issuing passes to bulky groups, losing all track of the A. W. 0. L.'s, performing the hundred and one-paper precautions leading up to the discharge at Camp Upton on the 9th, were a perfect riot. The Regiment evaporated. It seemed as if at one minute there had been a well-organized and functioning unit, and that in the next, it was nothing. There was no time for sentiment. Those who wanted to say "Farewell," forgot to. No one could do anything. About all they really cared for was getting back to the home they had left- as they had left it-and back to the old job-or a better one, which they deserved. Not, of course, forgetting the Army's sixty-dollar bonus.

Yet, at a spread where the old Camp Upton veterans of one company -tried to blow in at one fell swoop the unexpended portion of their Ration Savings, there was something akin to sentiment displayed. Speeches were demanded. The noisiest, loudest non-coms. and privates in the world were suddenly stricken dumb.

"I'll say to you men just what you said to me when I was once sent off to school," said the Top Sergeant, in response to a toast, the mixture being the juices of canned pineapple, canned peaches, canned apricots, oranges and grape-juice. "Good luck and good riddance."

"There are still too many oranges and bananas left to be thrown, so I'll close without beginning," was the Mess Sergeant's contribution.

"I'll tear up all the forms six-thirty-seven if you'll let me off," responded the Supply Sergeant.

"Too busy with this ice-cream to have anything to do with you," was the gracious effort of the first platoon leader.

"I'll give you the shortest address I know," said the Sergeant of the fourth platoon: "Twelve twenty Beaufort Avenue, Richmond Hill; drop in any time."

Then cries rent the air, demanding a word from him who had originated- during the Rout of Watten-the phrase, "No eat-no fight." A swarthy little fellow was boosted to the table-top, where he launched into a burst of Italian which will probably never appear in print, but ended in broken English:

"All-a right. We through-a da war. Now we be all-a time like-a we be in da Arm'-good-a solge', good-a boy, good-a luck!"

COMPANY - A

Legend

Jd. joined., Tr. transferred; Rid. Rjd. or Rej. rejoined; W. or WD., wounded; D.W., died of wounds; D.D. died of disease; K.A. killed in action; M., missing; G. gassed; A.S., absent sick; Pr. promoted; Comd., commissioned

Abbiente, Pvt. Domenico-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/27/18.

Aerni, Pvt. Ernest H.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/29/18.

Alexson, PFC. Martin A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/10/18.

Allard, Pvt. Olin W.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Allen, Pvt. Walter E.-Jd. 3/20/18.

Amoroso, Pvt. Samuel-jd. 3/4/18, AS. 8/12/18, Rjd. 11/25/18.

Anderson, Pvt. Carl G.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9//25/18.

Anello, Cpl. Joseph P.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Atkins, Pvt. Loren J.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Axelson, Pvt. Olaf-jd. 2/17/18, Wd. 9/28/19.

Ayers, Pvt. Beury-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/17/19, Rid. 4/l/19.

Aylward, Pvt. Frank A.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 12/10-18, Rjd. 4/1/19.

Bailey, Pvt. Paul B ~Jd. 12/4/17, Wd. 10/4/18, Rjd. 12/20/18.

Baisley, Pvt. Russell G.-Jd. 6/30/18, Wd. 9/8/18.

Balon, PFC. Walter-jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/6/18.

Bane, Pvt. Thomas-jd. 3/4/18.

Banome, Mec. Joseph A.-Jd. 9/10/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Barber, PFC. Byron L.-Jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 1/11/19.

Barker, Pvt. Henry L.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 12/19/18.

Barker, Sgt. Jesse-jd. 11/16/18.

Barkved, PFC. Iver L.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 2/6/19.

Barnett, Clyde C.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 2/6/19.

Barthe, Pvt. George L.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 7/19/18.

Bartram, Mec. Ira-jd. 1/29/19, Tr. 3/6/19.

Bauer, Pvt. John G.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/28/18.

Baxter, Pvt. Leonard-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/4/18, Rid. 12/16/18, Tr. 3/6/19.

Benninghoff, PFC. Paul-Jd. 9/7/17, AS. 10/11/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Benson, PFC. Carl H.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/29/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Berg, PFC. Edwin L-Jd. 9/23/18.

Berg, Pvt. Olaf A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Bernstein, Sgt. Martin-jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 9/19/18.

Berquist, PFC. August 11-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/18/18, Rid. 10/21//18.

Bertsch, PFC. Frank I-T.--Jd. 3/18/18.

Berzansky, PFC. Pcte-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/1/18, Rid. 10/6/18,

Bessette, Sgt. Joseph C.-Jd. 3/23/18, AS. 10/31/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Biancofiore, PFC. Antonio-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 10/10/18, Rid. 11/17/18.

Bickford, Pvt. Henry W.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Biggar, Pvt. Thomas M.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Black,Pvt.Thomas-jd.9/23/18, Wd.9/26/18.

Blakemore,Pvt.Ray-jd.9/23/18, KA.11/l/18.

Blow, Pvt. Frank H.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Boerner, PFC. Arthur C.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Bohne, Pvt. Charles-Jd. 10/22/18.

Boldt, Pvt. Charles H.-Jd. 2/27/18, DW. 9/28/18.

Bontemps, Pvt. Leon-jd. 11/24/18.

Borgert, Pvt. Frank J.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/9/18.

Boundy, Pvt. John W.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Breen, Pvt. Martin-jd. 9/23/18.

Brennan, Pvt. Berand-jd. 10/11/17, Wd. 8/26/18.

Brennan, PFC. Edward H.-Jd. 4/11/18.

Briggs, Pvt. William H.-Jd. 12/4/17, G. 11/l/18.

Bringhurst, Pvt. Samuel-jd. 9/23/18.

Britto, PFC. Edward S.-Jd. 3/24/18, AS. 8/29/18, Rid. 10/9/18.

Bromley, Pvt. Charles-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 11/8/18.

Brown, Pvt. Cecil H.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Brown, Pvt. Vincent-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 2/6/19.

Bruch, Pvt. Carl M. F.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Bruno, PFC. Peter-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 11/6/18, Rid. 11/12/18.

Bryan, Pvt. Dean-jd. 9/23/18, Mg. 9/29/18.

Buchanan, Pvt. George W.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Burkhart, Pvt. Henry G.-Jd. 11/20/18.

Burr, Pvt. Joseph A.-Jd. 9/27/17, G. 8/9/18, Rid. 9/9/18.

Cain, Pvt. Lavern N.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 9/2/18, Rid. 10/16/18.

Cardwell, Pvt. Henry C.-Jd. 9/23/18, Mg. 11/1/19.

Carlson, PFC. Carl IL-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/29/18, Rid. 11/8/18.

Casaletto, Pvt. -Michele-jd. 9/10/17, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 9/15/18, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Casey, PFC. John-jd. 3/18/18.

Cassidy, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/18/18, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 8/20/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 10/3/18, G. 11/l/18, Rjd. 11/5/18.

Centra, Pvt. Speridone-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 9/28/18, Rjd.3/19/19.

Cerrone, Pvt. Andrew-jd. 10/22/18.

Chapin, Sgt. Walter F.-Jd. 10/10/17.

Charles, PFC. John-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 9/15/18, Rid. 10/21/18.

Chase, Sgt. Newton-jd. 8/l/18.

Christman, Pvt. Dale E.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. IO/S/18.

Chubb, Sgt. Jacob H.-Jd. 11/16/18.

Ciccolella, Pvt. Pasquale-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Civitella, PFC. Ernesto-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/5/18.

Clausen, PFC. Sigurd-jd. 3/4/18, AS. 9/19/18, Rid, 10/21/18.

Clementson, Pvt. Harry B.-Jd. 9/23/187 AS. 10/14/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Cohill, Pvt. Thomas W.-Jd. 9/20/17, AS. 6/30/18.

Colessides, PFC. Simon-jd. 9/10/17.

Colli, Cpl. Louis-jd. 9/10/17, KA. 9/26/18.

Collins, PFC. Frank J.-Jd. 2/26/18, Wd. 9/29/18.

Combs, Cpl. Pitman-jd. 11/22/18.

Conway, PFC. Edward V.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Cooch, 1st Sgt. Leon-T jd. 1/22/18.

Cook, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Couch, Pvt. William F.-Jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 3/6/19,

Coulton, Sgt. Thomas E.-Jd. 9/23/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Cozine, Sgt. Aythur-jd. 12/4/17, AS. 8/23/18.

Crawley, Cpl. Ira-jd. 11/22/18.

Crandall, Pvt. Robert L.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Creason, PFC. Henry H.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/5/18, Rid. 11/3/18.

Criscullo, Pvt. Saverio-jd. 9/10/17, Tr. 5/23/1S.

Crume, Bglr. Garrett A.-Jd. 11/22/18,

Cullen, Pvt. Jerome J.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Cupo, Pvt. Guiseppe-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 9/6//18.

Cutt, Pvt. Willie C.-Jd. 9//23/18, AS. 10/3/18, Rid. 11/16/18.

Cuttle, Pvt. William D.-Jd. 10/9/17, Wd. 10/12/18.

Cyrus, Pvt. Ira-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/3/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Daniels, PFC. Ilubert-jd. 11/24/18.

Darenberg, Cpl. George-jd. 9/28/17.

Daugherty, Mee. John W.-Jd. 1/29/19.

Davi, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Davis, Cpl. George M.-Jd. 9/21/17, AS. 10/5/18.

Davis, Pvt. Moses-jd. 4/11/18, AS. 7/6/18, Rid. 8/20/18.

De Barbiery, Sgt. Joseph G.-Jd. 9/9/17, DW. 11/20/18.

Del Gaudio, Pvt. Pasquale-jd. 3/4/18, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Delleratto, Pvt. Alphonso-jd, 9/21/17, Wd. 9/5/18,

De Marco, Pvt. Raff aele-jd. 3/4/ 18.

Demo, Pvt. Martin-jd. 3/18/18.

Dempsey, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 3/4/18, AS. 7/16/18, Rid. 9/10/18.

Denton, Mess Sgt. Edward-jd. 1/16/18.

Di Benedetto, Pvt. Nick-jd. 12/5/17, AS. 12/29/18.

Dieshler, Pvt. Rudolph-jd. 9/10 /17, Tr. 10/4/18.

Di Mezza, Pvt. Alfonzo-jd. 3/18/18.

Diplarakos, Cook Efstratios-jd. 9/10/17.

Di Steffano, Pvt. Antonio-jd. 3/4/18.

Dowd, Cpl. John F.-Jd. 2/27/18, KA. 9/6/18-

Downing, Sgt. John-jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 9/28/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Drappi, Pvt. G.-Jd, 2/22/18, AS. 1/l/19.

Driscoll, Pvt. Joseph A.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 12/4/18.

Drucker, Sgt. Louis-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 7/6/18, Rid. 10/18/18.

Dunn, Pvt. Thomas Patrick-jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 11/25/18.

Dwyer, Ist Sgt. Claude H.-Jd. 9/10/17, Tr. 10/22/18.

Dwyer, Pvt. William E.-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 9/6/18.

Dykeman, Cpl. Walter-jd. 9/9/17, G. 11/l/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

Dymond, Pvt. George H.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Eberhart, Pvt. William G.-Jd. 9/10/17.

Eckert, Pvt. William-jd. 12/5/17.

Edwards, Pvt. Henry H.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18..

Egan, Pvt. John P.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 8/20/18, Rid.9/10/18.

Eisenberg, PFC. Herman-jd. 9/10/1 17, G. 11 / 1/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Elias, Cpl. Abraham-jd. 4/13/18.

Entenman, Pvt. William F.-Jd. 4/11/18.

Epstein, Cpl. Douglas T.-Jd. 9/10/18.

Eppsteiner, PFC. Herman-jd. 9/10/17, AS. 6/21/18.

Ericson, PFC. Ernest E.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/2/18.

Esquirol, Pvt. John J. J.--Jd. 10/11/17, AS. 11/1/18.

Evans, Pvt. Alfred E.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 9/28/18.

Everett, Pvt. Joe R.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Evscroff, Cpl. Elias E.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/5/18.

Falco, Pvt. Francesco-jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 11/8/18.

Fallon, Pvt. John T.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Farango, Pvt. Tony-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 10/29/18.

Farmlett, Cpl. Marcbeori-jd. 9/298/17, Wd. 9/28/18.

Farrell, Pvt. James F.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Fearon, Pvt. Hugh P.-Jd. 3/4/18.

Feathers, Cook Allie A.- Jd. 12/4/17.

Fennell, PFC. James E.-Jd. 9/28 /17.

Ferguson, Pvt. Roy E.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/24/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Ferris, Pvt. Stephen-jd. 9/10/17.

Ficken, Pvt. Walter C.-jd, 9/23/18.

Finkelstein, Pvt. Meyer-jd. 9/28/17.

Flynn, Pvt. James F.-Jd. 3/4/18.

Fortenbacher, Sgt. Enno J.-Jd. 9/10/17, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 8/19/18.

Fowdy, Sgt. Edward R.-Jd. 9/10/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Fox, Pvt. John-Jd. 10/9/17, AS. 12/10/18.

Galary, Pvt. Anthony-jd. 11/22/18.

Gallaje, Pvt. Dominico-jd. 10/20/18, G. 11/1/18 Rid. 12/23/18.

Gallup, Cpl. James W.-Jd. 12/4/17.

Gattuso, Pvt. Frank-jd. 4/11/18, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 10/26/18, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

Gearhart, Pvt. Jarnes-Jd. 11/16/18, Tr, 12/20/18, Rid. 4/l/19.

Genereux, Pvt. Walter-jd. 10/21/17, G. 8/16/18.

Gentry, Pvt. Charles E.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Gethin, Pvt. Stanley A.-Jd. 9/10/17, Tr. 12/10/18.

Giles, Pvt. Walter-jd. 11/22/18.

Gohl, PFC. William R.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 10/5/18.

Golden, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 3/4/18.

Griffith, PFC. Roy J.-Jd- 4/10/18.

Griffon, Sgt. Reggie James-jd. 9/28/17, G. II/l/18.

Grimshaw, Sgt. Henry E.-Jd. 9/27/17, Tr. 7/5/18.

Griswold, Pvt. James-jd. 9/23/18.

Gross, PFC. Valentine--Jd. 9/10/17, AS, 8/16/18. Gruentzel, Pvt. P' rvin J.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Guenthner, Cpl. 1,)ol)ert D.-Jd. 3/18/18, DW. 11/7/18.

Guilfoyle, PFC. William F.-Jd. 9/10/17, AS. 2/6/19, Rid. 2/16/19.

HaberliD, Cook Edward F.-Jd. 12/5/17.

1-faeffier, Pvt. Frank G.-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/6/18. Haggerty, Pvt. Charles-jd. 9/21/17.

Haggerty, Pvt. Peter J. Jr.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 10/8/18, Rid. 11/25/18

Hallyburton, Cook Jarnes-Jd. 3/4/18, AS. 2/1/19, Tr. 3/6/19.

Hanks, Pvt. Howard-jd. 11/22/18.

Harrey, Cpl. William H.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 11/4/18.

Harris, Sgt. Morgan K.-Jd. 9/9/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Harrod, PFC. Campbell H.-Jd. 11/22/18

Hartenstien, Pvt. Irving-jd. 10/20/18

Haworth, Pvt. William A.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Heim, Pvt. Marcus-jd. 4/10/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 10/13/18.

Heinrichs, Cpl. Stanley E.-Jd. 9/10/17, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/5/18.

Helver, Pvt. Albert O.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/28/18.

Herdt, Pvt. Henry-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 10/30/18.

Hickey, Pvt. John L.-Jd. 3/4/18.

Hines, Pvt. Joseph L.-Jd. 9/23/18, DW. 10/21/18.

Hocking, Pvt. Percy-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 12/30/18.

Hodara, Pvt. Antoni-jd. 3/18 /18.

Hoge, Pvt. Walter J.-Jd. 11/22/18,

Holt, Pvt. William M.-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/8/18.

Holman, Pvt. Oscar L.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/10/18.

Holody, Pvt. Tomasz-jd. 4/10/18.

Hopke, PFC. Adolph, Jr.-Jd. 9/10/17, Wd. 9/28/1S, Rid. 12/14/18.

Hopkins, Sgt. Howard D.-Jd. 11/16/18.

Horowitz, PFC. Jacob L-Jd. 8/9/18, G. 8/18/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Hughes, Pvt. James E.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/6/18.

Hull, Cpl. Dennison B.-Jd. 1/5/18.

Humphreys, Cpl. William J.-Jd. 9/28/17, G. 11/l/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Incordoni, Pvt. M ario V.-Jd. 3/ IS/ 18, G. 8 /16/18,

Rid. 9/14/18, AS. 10/28/18, Rid. 12/10/18.

Jeffries, Pvt. Frederick H.-Jd. 2/27/18.

Kane, PFC. Mortimer W-Jd. 9/28/17.

Kaplan, Pvt. Harry-jd. 11/15/18.

Keenan, Pvt. Thomas F.-Jd. 3/18/18, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Kennedy, Pvt. Peter N. Jd. 3/18/18, DW. 9/30/18.

Kiernan, Cpl. Frank A.-Jd. 12/4/17, Wd. 9/3/18, Rid. 9/8/18.

King, Pvt. Osrue jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/26/18.

Kirkpatrick, Pvt. Samuel B.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 11/9/18.

Kolbuss, Pvt. William B.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/15/18.

Labjinski, Pvt. Stanley-jd. 11/24/18.

Lange, Pvt. Alfred E.-Jd. 3/4/18, AS. 8/24/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Langlois, Pvt. Henry R.-Jd. 3/18/18, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 9/15/18, AS. 11/10/18.

Lasater, Pvt. Pizzer W.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Lathrop, Sgt. Carlton D.-Jd. 9/9/17, Tr. 7/19/18.

Leary, PFC. Timothy H.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 11/4/18.

Leavy, Pvt. Frederick J.-Jd. 10/22/18, AS. 3/9/19.

Lee, PFC. Albert D.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/10/18.

Lehrey, Pvt. George J.-Jd. 2/27/18, AS. 1/22/19.

Leider, Sgt. Benjamin-jd. 9/10/17, G. 111/18, Rid. 11/5/18, AS. 2/4/19.

Leon, Pvt. Bennie-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 8/24/18, Rid. 3/19/19.

Lesser, Pvt. Leon H.-Jd. 2/27/18, AS. 10/18/18.

Leutemann, Pvt. Charles F.-Jd. 41/10/18, Wd. 8/23/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Levens, Pvt. Clarence J.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/28/18.

Lieb, PFC. Max-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 11/41/18.

Lieberman, Sgt. Max-jd. 9/10/17.

Liguori, Pvt. Amadeo-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 10/16/18, Rid. 11 /18/18, AS. 1/6/19.

Lingle, Pvt. Oran ],-,.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/29/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Lipke, PFC. Fred H.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Lobianco, Pvt. Michel-jd. 3/4/18.

Lchrey, Pvt. George J.-Jd. 4/10/18, AS. 3/ 9/19.

Lundsten, Pvt. John H.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/28/18, Rid. 11/25/18, AS. 1/8/19.

Lunin,PFC.Benjamin-jd.9/21/1.7, AS. 11/2/18.

Mackmer, Pvt. Herbert W.-Jd. 2/27/18, KA. 9/28/18.

Magdalin, PFC. Irving-jd. 9/21/17, G. 9/5/18, Rid. 9/9/18, Wd. 9/28/18, Rid. 11/18/18.

Manard, Pvt. Homer-jd. 11/24/18.

Manfreda, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 9/21/17, AS. 10/14/18.

Mannino, PFC. Joseph-jd. 3/4/18, AS. 10/24/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Maro, Pvt. Leonard-jd. 3/4/18.

Marshall, Pvt. Alexander-jd. 12/5/17, AS. 3/17/19, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Marshall, Private Frank-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/28/18.

Martin, Pvt. J. J., Jr.-Jd. 12/4/17, AS. 9/29/18.

Martone, PFC. Remigio-jd. 3/18/18.

Mason, Pvt. Clyde A.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/18/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Matson, Pvt. Winifred M.-Jd. 9/23/18.

McCrory, Pvt. Patrick L.-Jd. 3/18/18.

McCurdy, Sgt. Albert E.-Jd. 9/28/17, G. 11/l/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

McFarlin, Pvt. Ben H. Jr.-Jd. 11/22/18.

McGinnity, Sgt. William-jd. 9/28/17, G. 11/7/18.

McGinty, Pvt. Joseph M.-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

McGlinchey, Sgt. William Joseph, Jd. 9/28/17, KA. 9/28/18.

McGowan, PFC. Edward C.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 9/28/18, Rid. 10/26/18.

McIntyre, Pvt. Edward-jd. 9/23/18, KA. 9/26/18.

McKenzie, PFC. John H.-Jd. 9/23/18.

McKernan, Pvt. Thomas F.-Jd. 9/21/17, AS. 10/18/18.

McKinney, Pvt. Lcxter H.-Jd. 11/22/18.

McKnight, Pvt. William L.-Jd. 3/18/18, G, 8/16/18, Rid. 9/16/18, AS. 10/28/18, Rid, 12/31/18.

McLellan, Cpl. James- Jd. 9/10/17, AS. 10/28/18, Rid. 2/18/19.

McMillan, Pvt. jobn-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/20/18.

McNamara, Pvt. Thomas-Jd. 9/28/17.

McPartland, Pvt. John F.-Jd. 3/4/18, AS. 9/30/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

Melton, Sgt. Roy-jd. 11/16/18.

Meredith, Sgt. Claude-jd. 11/16/18.

Merritt, Pvt. Grover C.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Meyer, Pvt. John-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/18/18, Rid. 11/22/18.

Meyette, Pvt. Cyril P.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 10/11/ 18, Rid. 11/17/18.

Michielini, Mee. Frank-jd. 9/10/18, G. 9/5/18, Rid. 9/15/18.

Miller, Cpl. Arthur N.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Mitchell, Pvt. George-jd. 11/22/18.

Mizzoni, Pvt. Marco-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 9/8/18.

Moline, Pvt. Lester E.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Moore, Pvt. Harold A.-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 9/6/18.

Morrow, Pvt. Roland M.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Morse, Sgt. E. H.-Jd. 1/5/18, Commissioned 7/12/18.

Mott, Sgt. Harold E.-Jd. 10/10/17.

Metter, Robert L.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Mowrie, Cpl. George C.-Jd. 12/4/17, AS, 10/28/18, Rid. 12/20/1S.

Mulholland, Pvt. Raymond-jd. 9/28/17, G. 8/16/18, Rid. S/21/18.

Murphy, Cpl. Andrew J.-Jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 6/29/18, Rid. 10/221/18, AS. 11/4/18, Rid. 1/12/19.

Murtha, Pvt. Anthony T.-Jd. 3 /4 /18.

Naegley, Pvt. Max O.-Jd. 2/271/18, KA. 9/7/18.

Nauretz, Pvt. Earl J.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 2/6/19.

Nichols, Pvt. Lawrence E.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/28/18.

Nichols, Cpl. William H-Jd. 11/16/18.

O'Keeffe, Pvt. Thomas F.-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

O'Loughlin, Cpl. John J.-Jd. 9/10/17, AS. 10/14/18.

Olsen, Pvt. William H.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Onorio, Pvt. Creno-jd. 3/18/18, KA. 10/10/18.

Ottestad, Pvt. Harold F.-Jd. 9/23 /18.

Owen, Pvt. Thomas A.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Pallatina, Pvt. Quito-jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/8/18.

Pancera, Pvt. Antonio, jd. 2/27/18.

Parks, 1st Sgt. Charles H.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Paton, Pvt. Frederick H.-Jd. 4/13/18, AS. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/31/18.

Paxton, Ist Sgt. John AL, Jr.-Jd. 9/20/17, Com-missioned 7/12/18.

Philbin, Cpl. Michael-jd. 9/21/17, G. 9/5/18, Rid. 9/9/18.

Pierce, Pvt. William J.-Jd. 9/10/17, Wd. 9,/6/18, Rid. 12/5/18.

Piper, 13glr. Glenn A.-Jd. 2/12

Pizzimenti, Pvt. Bruno-jd. 2/27/18, Mg. 9/ 17/18. Plemens, Mess Sgt. Ross E.-Jd. 11/16/1~, AS. 11/18/18.

Price, Cpl. Poley G.-Jd. 1/29/19.

Pymm, Pvt. Mott-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 8/3/18, Rid. 9/10/18.

Raab, PFC. Leon E.-Jd. 9/28/17, KA. 9/61/18.

Rae, Sgt. Thomas-jd. 12/5/17, Tr. 10/18/18, Rid. 1/24/19.

Rappa, Pvt. Guiseppe-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/24/18,

Rid. 9/21/18.

Rechichi, PFC. Giovanni-jd. 4/11/18.

Reda, Pvt. Vincenzo-jd. 3/18/18.

Reilly, Joseph V.-Jd. 9/10/17, Tr. 6/17/18.

Ripperger, Sup. Sgt. Joseph-jd. 9/10/17.

Risimini, Pvt. Frank S.-Jd. 4/12/18, AS. 6/22/18, Rid. 8/19/18.

Romano, PFC. Michael-jd. 9/10/17, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Rongey, Pvt. Claude-jd. 9/23/18.

Rothenberg, Pvt. Isadore-jd. 9/10/17.

Rothwell, PFC. Roy-jd. 11/16/18, Tr. 12/20/18.

Ruebin, Pvt. Alphonso-jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 5/23/18.

Ryan, Sgt. Thomas F.-Jd. 9/10/17, KA. 9/7/18.

Ryan, Cpl. William L.-Jd. 9/10/17, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 12 /19/18.

Sacchiero, PFC. Eugenio-jd. 3/18/18.

Sampson, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/12/18.

Schiano, Pvt. Guiseppe-jd. 3/4/18.

Schlotterbach, Sgt. Charles-jd. 9/21/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Schrubbe, PFC. Edward C.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Schurter, Pvt. George-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/9/18.

Senk, Cpl. Harry J.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 8/19/18.

Serma, Cpl. Ralph E.-Jd. 9/28/17, Rid. 9/5/18.

Senzino, PFC. John-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 10/3/18, Rid. 10/4/18.

Severino, Pvt. Antonio--Jd. 3/4/18, G. 11/l/18,

Rid, 1/21/19

Seymour, Pvt. Robert J.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/7/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Shahwood, Cpl. S31omon-jd. 3/30/18, G. 11/l/18,

Rid. 12/6/18,

Shea, PFC. Patrick J.-Jd. 9/21/17.

Sheff-teld, Pvt. Bose-jd. 11/22/18.

Shelley, Pvt. Ward C.-Jd. 4/10/18, AS. 10/5/18,

Rid. 11/25/18-

Shields, Pvt. Harley B.-Jd. 11/16/18, AS. 1/1/19 Tr. 3/6/19.

Siegal, Pvt. jacolb-jd, 9/29/17, Tr. 2/15/18.

Signoretti, Pvt. Dominick-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 6/21/18.

Sinclair, Cpl. Randolph L.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 11/2/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Smith, Sgt. Arch-jd. 11/16/18, Tr. 12/22/18.

Smith, Cpl. Ben C.-Jd. 11/2/18.

Smith, Cpl. Charles J.-Jd. 9/28/17, KA.

9//7/18. Smith, Pvt. Donald-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/16/18, Rid. 12/10/18.

Smith, Sgt. John A.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Smith, Ist Sgt. John J.-Jd. 0/28/17, Tr. 7/24/18, Rid. 10/ 15/18.

Smith, Cpl. Paul D.-Jd. 12/4/17, AS. 10/211/18.

Sobecki, Pvt. Lawrence-jd. 9/10/17, AS. 11/l/18.

Sottille, Pvt. Pietro-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 7/13/18.

Spinelli, Pvt. Gennaro-jd. 3/4/18.

Stalhand, Cpl. Godfrey-jd. 4/7/18, Wd. 9/4/18, Rid. 9/9/18.

Stadstad, Pvt. Carl-jd. 9/23/18.

Standridge, Pvt. Lester-jd. 11/22/18,

Starace, Pvt. Tony-jd. 3/14/18.

Stark, Sgt. John C.-Jd. 9/10/117, AS. 10/311/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Sterace, Pvt. Tony.

Stickle, Pvt. Arthur-jd. 12/14/17.

Stidliam, Sgt. James-jd. 11/16/18.

Stofka, PFC. John N.-Jd. 9/10/17.

Stram, Floyd C.-Jd. 4/10/18, AS, 10/30/18, Rid. 11/12/18.

Strecker, PFC. Henry-jd. 11/24/18.

Thompson, Pvt. George D.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 11/27/18.

Thompson, Pvt. Luther M.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Thompson, Pvt. Walter A.-Jd. 10/9/17, AS. 3/9/19.

Throgmorton, Cpl. Maurice-jd. 11/22/18.

Thurber, Pvt. Arthur R.--Jd. 4/10/18, AS. 10/6/18, Rid. 11/25//18.

Thurber, Pvt. Lynn A.-Jd, 2/27/18, DW. 9/27/18.

Tietien, PFC. John F.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Tobin, Cpl. John A.-Jd. 12/5/17, G. 9/5/18, Rid. 9/12/18.

Tuffy, Cpl. John-jd. 9/28/17.

Vath, Cpl. Joseph-Jd. 9/10/17, Tr. 8/30//18.

Via Cava, Cpl. Joseph F.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Vreeland, PFC. Franklin H.-id. 9/10/17, AS. 61/21/18.

Vroman, PFC. Jay C.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Waldstein, Cpl. Samuel-jd. 9/21/17, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

Weaver, Pvt. George W.-Jd. 3/18/18,

Weber, PFC. Henry W.-Jd. 9/21/17, DW. 9/8/1&

Webster, Cpl. Elvis IL-Jd. 11/22/18.

Weckesser, PFC. Carl F.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 10/2/18, Rid. 1/21/19.

Wentworth, Pvt. Carl P.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/3/18.

Wiley, Cpl. Edward Joseph-jd. 9/10/17, Wd. 11/8/l8

Wilkerson, Sgt. Leo T.-Jd. 11/16/18, AS. 3/25/19.

Williams, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/4/18.

Winter, Cpl. Daniel E.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Wirehouse, PFC. James K.-Jd. 12/51/17.

Wisockis, Pvt. Stasis-jd. 31/18/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 3/19/19.

Wood, PFC. Stanley G.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 11/21/18.

Woodin, PFC. Douglas E.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS, 4/6/18.

Woodworth, Pvt. Nelson H.-Jd. 2/271/18, G. 8/16/18.

Yunck, Pvt. Walter-jd. 9/23/18.

Zander, PFC. Julius R.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Zapf, Pvt. Nelson J.-Jd. 4/10/18.

COMPANY B

Legend

Jd. joined., Tr. transferred; Rid. Rjd. or Rej. rejoined; W. or WD., wounded; D.W., died of wounds; D.D. died of disease; K.A. killed in action; M., missing; G. gassed; A.S., absent sick; Pr. promoted; Comd., commissioned

Aberg, Pvt. John A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/28/18, Rid. 12/19/18,.

Adamowiz, Pvt. Tony-jd. 3/5/18, G. 10/5/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Alba, Pvt Vincenzo-jd. 10/22/18. 9/23/18, AS.

Alberthal, PFC. Alfred L.-Jd-10/28/18, Rid. 12/14/18-

Albertson, Pvt. Augustus-Jd. 12/5/17, Tr. 7/1/18-

Aldridge, Pvt. Russell L.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Alfonso, Pvt. Angel antonio-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/5/18.

Allen, PFC. Joseph S.-Jd. 12/5/17.

Allen, Pvt. Robert G.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/1/18.

Altman, PFC. Jacob-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 10/4/18.

Anderson, Pvt. Niles Oscar-jd. 2/27/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Andrews, Pvt. George R.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Angell, Pvt. Henry, Jr.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/7/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Aquileo, Pvt. Domenico-jd. 2/23/18, AS. 6/16/18.

Arnold, Pvt. Elwin-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/28/18, Rid. 11/4/18.

Arrude, Pvt. Joseph A.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Ashe, Pvt. George-jd. 2/25/18, DW. 6/5/18.

Atwood, I st Sgt. William R.-Jd. 9/23/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Austin, PFC. Charles E.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/29/18.

Babcock, PFC. Paul E.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/13/18.

Bacchi, Pvt. Mario--Jd. 3/16/18, Wd. 11/10/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Baer, Pvt. Fred Eugene-jd. 9/22/17, G. 8/12/18.

Bair, Pvt. Tom C.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 11/1/18.

Baker, PFC. George-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/28/18.

Ballato, Pvt. Tindaro-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/28/18, Rid. 1/19/19.

Bane, PFC. Walter R.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Bangs, PFC. Andrew-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 10/4/18.

Barrese, Pvt. Antonio-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/5/18.

Barton , Pvt. Raymond E.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Baseley, PFC. William-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 8/16/18.

Bauly, Pvt. William-jd. 1/1/19.

Bazinet, Pvt. Theodore L.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/8/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Bell, Cpl. Allen .-Jd. 11/22/18.

Bellinger, Pvt. Iloward--Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/1/19.

Bender, PFC. Jacob, Jr.-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 10/9/18, Rid. 10/27/18.

Benedict, PFC. Manfred-jd. 10/10/17, Wd. 7/28/18, Rid. 8/24/18.

Beneto, Pvt. James-jd. 10/22/18,

Berg, Pvt. Carl-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/11/18.

Berge, Pvt. Charles E.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Bickerton, Pvt. Robert-jd. 3/4/18, AS. 6/5/18.

Biggins, Pvt. Thomas--Jd. 2/26/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Birkenstock, Pvt. Henry-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/6/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Bisignano, Sgt. Vincent-jd. 9/22/17.

Blankenship, Pvt. Carl K.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Blohm, Sgt. John-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 10/18/18.

Bonagura, Pvt. Tony-jd. 12/8/17, AS. 6/3/18.

Bonham, PFC. William A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd.

11/1/18, Rid. 12/13/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Booker, Pvt. William R.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Bootes, Pvt. Fred H.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/11/18, Rid. 12/16/18, AS. 1/6/19.

Borges, Pvt. Tobias F.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Bossong, PFC. John L.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Brand, Pvt. John J. Jd. 3/18/18, DW. 10/5/18.

Brennan, Cpl. Patrick W.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 1/1/19.

Brennan, Cpl. Thomas J. Jd. 9/28/17, G. 10/5/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Briller, Pvt. Henry Jd. 2/27/18, G. 8/28/18.

Brown, PFC. Charles H.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Burket, Pvt. Walter G-Jd. 9/23/18.

Burman, Pvt. Harry-jd. 9/23/18.

Busch, Pvt. Edward M.-Jd. 2/22/18, AS. 9/23/18.

Busch, Pvt. Howard M.-Jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 3/7/19.

Butler, Sgt. John A.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 8/27/18.

Byrnes, Pvt. Timothy A.-Jd. 2/25/18, G. 8/12/18.

Cachaounis, PFC. Peter-jd. 12/5/17, AS. 8/26/18, Rid. 2/18/18.

Canfaratta, Pvt. Caspar-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/9/18, Rid. 12/14/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Caputo, Pvt. Dominick-jd. 9/28/17, DW. 6/3/18.

Carlson, Pvt. Charles A. W.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/15/18.

Carlson, Pvt. Nile-jd. 10/20/18.

Carney, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 12/18/18.

Carpenter, Cpl. Charles F.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Carr, Pvt. Robert A.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/6/18, Rid. 11/18/18.

Carroll, Pvt. Joseph A.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Carroll, Pvt. William J.-Jd. 9/23/18, DW. 9/26/18.

Carsner, Pvt. Francis M.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 9/30/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Caruso, Pvt. Antonio-jd. 10/20/18.

Castellana, Pvt. Maeitti-jd. 9/22/17, G. 10/6/18.

Cavallino, Pvt. Gaspare-jd. 10/20/18.

Chandler, Pvt. Arthur E.-Jd. 4/11/18, Wd. 8/12/18, Rid. 12/31/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Chernis, PFC. Anthony-jd. 2/25 / /18.

Chester, Cpl. Kenneth-jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 7/19/18.

Chomotinski, Pvt. Luis-jd. 3/17/18.

Ciccarone, Pvt. Vincent-jd. 3/5/18, Wd. 9/29/18.

Cleary, Pvt. Williarn-jd. 2/23/18, G. 10/6/18.

Clemente, Pvt. Eugene-jd. 2/22/18, KA. 8/14/18.

Cogan, Pvt. Hugh Andrew-jd. 10/22/18.

Cole, Pvt. Edward C.-Jd. 3/17/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Coll, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/6/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Collingsworth, Cpl. Garrett-jd. 11/22/18.

Collins, PFC. Edward-jd. 2/27/18.

Columbus, Cpl. Fred J.-Jd. 2/26/18, AS. 10/19/18. Rid. 10/21/18.

Colzone, Pvt. John-jd. 10/20/18, Wd. 11/10/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Combs, Sgt. Navor-jd. 11/22/18.

Comeau, Pvt. Armond Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 10/3/18.

Consello, Pvt. Alfred-jd. 10/22/18.

Cotter, Pvt. Olen J.-Jd. 4/11/18, G. 8/12/18.

Coviello, PFC. James-jd. 3/4/18, G. 10/6/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Cross, Pvt. Sherman L.-J d. 9/23/18, Wd, 10/6/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Culligan, PFC. William P.-Jd. 9/29/17.

Cullinan, Cpl. Thomas Jd. 3/4/18, Wd. 8/14/18, Tr. 8/1/19.

Daly, Pvt. Alonzo-jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/6/18.

Damasgaard, Ist Sgt. Arthur C.-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 9/12/18.

Damiano, Pvt. Michael-jd. 9/22/17, AS. 6/3/18.

Damone, Pvt. Ralph-jd. 2/25/18, DW. 6/4/18.

Daniels, Pvt. Oliver B.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Dannals, PFC. Jim-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/11/18, Rid. 12/14/18, AS. 1/22/19.

Delius, PFC. Robert-jd. 2/26/18.

Dellanno, Pvt. Giuseppe--Jd. 10/20/18.

DeLong, Pvt. ClareDce-jd. 3/18/18, DW. 8/14/18.

Dennis, Pvt. Mareen John-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 6/5/18.

De Scheer), Sgt. Leon J.--Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Desimore, Pvt. Gencrino-jd. 3/25/18, DW. 9/26/18.

De Stefano, Pvt. John-jd. 10/22/18.

D'Esposito, Sgt. Frank-jd. 9/2S/17, KA. 9/28/18.

DiDiego, Pvt. Louis G.-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 11/1/18.

Dimitrio, PFC. Vito-jd. 9/22/17, AS. 6/6/18.

Dobers, Pvt. Oscar-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/27/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Doege, Pvt. Lee A.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/14/18.

Domingos, Pvt. Antonio R.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/5/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Downing, Pvt. Joseph T.-Jd. 2/27/18, AS. 6/15/18.

Dunne, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 2/25/18, DW. 10/1/18.

Dyer, Pvt. Walter M.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/19/19, Rid. 4/7/19, AS. 3/10/19.

Early, Sgt. William D.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Ebert, PFC. Irwin W.-Jd. 2/25/18, G. 11/2/18.

Eckles, Pvt. William F.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/1/18.

Ehleiter, Pvt. Frederick-jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/6/18,

Rid. 2/4/19.

Ellis, Cpl. Ralph L.-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/26/18.

Ence, PFC. Milo-jd. 9/23/18.

Erickson, Cpl. Edward C.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Estes, PFC. Harvey B.-Jd. 12/23/18.

Etter, Pvt. Charles-jd. 2/27/18, Tr. 9/24/18.

Facondini, Pvt. Cesare-jd. 9/23/18.

Falco, PFC. Pasquale-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Farum, PFC. Louis-jd. 9/22/17.

Fauer, PFC. Edward-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/29//18.

Favazzo, Sgt. Joseph-jd. 9/22/17, G. 10/5/18.

Felch, PFC. Howard A.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Ferraro, Pvt. Stephen Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/26/18.

Ferro, Pvt. Joe-Jd. 3/1/18, Tr. 2/26/19.

Fiddler, Pvt. Ernest S. Jd. 11/21/18.

Fields, Cpl. Marion F. Jd. 11/22/18.

Finger, Pvt. Leo F.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/27/18.

Fink, Pvt. Mike-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Finley, PFC. Daniel L.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/19/18.

Fitch, Cpl. George A. Jd. 4/11/18.

Fleming, Pvt. John Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/28/18.

Floyd, Alec. McKinley-jd. 11/22/18.

Folga, Pvt. Frank-jd. 2/25/18, AS. 8/21/18.

Ford, Pvt. Andrew-jd. 2/24/18, Wd. 8/13/18.

Ford, Pvt. Leo-jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 10/10/18.

Foresti, Pvt. Dominick-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 1/31/19

Fors, Cpl. GeorgeA.-Jd. 2/27/18, AS. 9/19/18.

Forster, Pvt. Andrew-jd. 4/11/18.

Fotopoulos, Pvt. Leonidas G.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/14/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Fox, PFC. Michael-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/10/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Fraleigh, Pvt. Robert-jd. 12/4/17, G. 8/12/18. Francis, Cpl. Samuel-jd. 12/5/17.

Freitag, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/1/18, DW. 9/28/18.

Fresenda, Pvt. Guiseppe-jd. 3/2/18, AS. 8/27/18, Rid. 10/22/18.

Friedman, Sgt. Jacob-jd. 12/5/17, AS. 10/27/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Friedman, Pvt. Nlax-jd. 10/22/18.

Gace, PFC. Horace-jd. 2/27/18.

Gallagan, Sgt. Eugene-jd. 1/15/18, commissioned 7/12/18.

Gallagher, PFC. James J.--Jd. 2/26/18, AS. 9/28/18.

Gard, Pvt. Herbert L.-Jd. 3/18/18,

Geber, Pvt. Irwin A.-Jd. 12/S/17, Wd. 9/30/18.

Gebret, Pvt. Thomas-jd. 11/24/18, AS. 12/30/18, Rid. 4/7/19.

Geidel, PFC. Christian F.--Jd. 9/22/17, KA. 9/26/18.

Gemmer, Pvt. Edward M.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Gerken, Cpl. John-jd. 9/~8/17, Tr. 2/l/19.

Giambalvo, Wgnr. Anthony-jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 10/26/18.

Gibson, Cook John S.-Jd. 11/22/18, Tr. 3/27/19.

Gilbert, Pvt. Kenneth D. jd. 2/22/18, G. 8/18/18.

Gladstone, Cpl. Sol.-Jd. 2/27/18, Tr. 2/21/19.

Glaser, Pvt. Harry-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 10/10/18.

Glynn, PFC. William-jd. 12/5/17, DW. 6/3/18.

Gollin, PFC. William-jd. 9/22/17.

Gorman, Pvt. Richard J.-Jd. 4/11/18.

Gorman, Cpl. William M.-Jd. 4/10/18.

Gosselin, Pvt. Leo-jd. 3/18,/18, Wd. 9/26/18.

Gowan, Pvt. Stanley Jd. 11/ 23/ 18.

Granner, Pvt. Julius G.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Greenberg, Pvt. Harris-jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 21/21/19.

Grimshaw, Pvt. Roland F.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Grose, PFC. James T.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Grossi, PFC. Domenico-jd. 12/4/17.

Grother, Pvt. Owen J.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Grunewald, Cpl. Theodore-jd. 9/22/17, G. 8/12/18, Rid. 11/3/18, A.S. 2/31/19.

Grupp, Sgt. Charles J.-Jd. 12/5/17, G. 8/12/18, Rid. 10/11/18.

Guardi Pvt. Cologeri,-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 8/23/18.

Hager, Pvt. George-Jd. 7/13/18, AS. 8/20/18.

Hall, Sgt. Lawrence-Jd. 11/22/18.

Haliquist, Sgt. Fred-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 11/10/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Hamilton, Pvt. Thomas-Jd. 9/28/17.

Haneman, Sgt. Frank J.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/30/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Hansen, PFC. Otto-Jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 11/30/18.

Hardym, Pvt. William-jd. 9/23/18.

Harringar, Pvt. Vate T.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 2/6/19.

Harms, Pvt. Charles-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 10/5/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Harris, PFC. Herbert-Jd. 2/25/18, G. 8/12/48.

Hartnett, Pvt. Lester W.-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 3/21/19.

Hartshorne, Cpl. Willard E.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Hassett, PFC. Michael A.-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 10/2/18.

Hatch, Pvt. William M.-Jd. 4/11/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 10/13/18.

Hauser, Pvt. Benjamin-Jd. 9/22/17.

Hauser, Pvt. Walter C.-Jd. 2/27/18, KA. 11/8/18.

Hauxwell, PFC. Fred-Jd. 9/23/18.

Haysman, Cpl. William C.-Jd. 2/27/18, G. 8/13/18, Rid. 12/31/18.

Hemmingway, Pvt. Jim C.-Jd. 10/20/18, Wd. 11/2/18.

Henry, PFC. Walter-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 0/29/18.

Herold, Pvt. John, Jr.-Jd. 4/13/18, AS. 8/23/18, Rid. 1/16/19.

Heroy, Pvt. Marshall-jd. 4/9/18, AS. 10/27/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

Higgins, Pvt. Walter-jd. 11/22/18, Tr. 3/6/19.

Hillman, Pvt. Rueben - Jd. 4/10/18, AS. 10/3/18, Rid. 1/19/19.

Hirschhauser, PFC. Herf E.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Hoelzen, Sgt. Waldemar-Jd. 11/22/18.

Hoffman, Pvt. Clyde H.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 12/19/18, Rid. 3/26/19.

Holder, Pvt. Elmer C.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Holdsworth, Pvt. Arthur-jd. 2/27/18, DW. 9/8/18.

Holstrom, Mec. Harold-Jd. 9/28/17.

Holtermann, PFC. John-Jd. 9/23/18.

Hoppe, Pvt. Walter-Jd. 10/22/18.

Horvath, Pvt. John-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/8/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

Hospoduras, Pvt. John-Jd. 12/5/17, DW. 6/3/18.

Howard, Pvt. William J.-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 10/13/18.

Huckleberry, Cpl. Jake-Jd. 11/22/18.

Humphrey, Sgt. Arthur G.-Jd. 9/24/17, Wd. 8/13/18.

Huyck, Pvt. Clarence-jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 5/23/18.

Jacoby, Pvt. Bernard-Jd. 9/22/17, AS. 10/27/18.

James, PFC. George T.-Jd. 9/23/ IS, AS. 9/ 28/ I8, Rdj. 12/28/18.

Jenkins, Pvt. Marvin E.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18, Rid. 12/16/18,

Johnson, Pvt. John-Jd. 9/23/18, DW. 9/26/18.

Johnson, Pvt. Oscar-Jd. 11/24/18, AS. 12/29/18,

Johnson, Pvt. Peter B.-Jd. 9/23/18, DW. 9/26/1S

Johnson, Pvt. Pontus-Jd. 9/23/18.

Johnson, Ist Sgt. Samuel C.-Jd. 11/16/18.

Johnston Pvt. Elmer M.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Kahn, Cook Harry-Jd. 9/28/17.

Kapitz, Pvt. Morris-Jd. 2/27/18.

Kaplan, PFC. Barney-jd. 9/22/17, G. 6/12/18, Rid. 11/20/18.

Keating, Pvt. Michael-fd. 2/27/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Keene, Pvt. William F.-Jd. 4/11/18, AS. 10/25/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Keller, Mess Sgt. Joseph A.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Kelly, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Kennedy, Pvt. Edwin J.-Jd. 9/21/17, AS. 9/26/18, Rid. 10/21/18.

Kessler, PFC. Stanley-jd. 4/18/18, G. 8/12/18, Rid.11/17/18.

Kezom, Pvt. Roman-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 8/16/18.

Kiernan, Cpl. Peter J.-Jd. 9/22/17, AS. 11/2/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Kimball, Pvt. Harry H.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 11/10/18 Rjd. 12/23/18.

Kinsey, Pvt. Harry H.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/4/18, Rid. 1/19/19.

Knoerle, Pvt. Ferdinand-jd. 11/22/18.

Koehler, Cpl. Louis-Jd. 9/29/17, G. 10/6/18, Rid. 11/6/18.

Koserski, PFC. Joseph-Jd. 12/5/17, KA. 10/8/18.

Kover, Pvt. Joe T.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Krentz, Pvt. Edward C.-Jd. 6/29/18, Wd. 8/14/18.

Krokoski, Pvt. Tony-Jd. 11/22/18.

Kurfirst, Pvt. Charles-Jd. 11/22/18.

La Blue, Pvt. Frank-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Lafredo, Pvt. Guiseppe-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 9/29/18.

Lake, Pvt. Earl-Jd. 11/22/18, Tr. 1/6/19.

Lambert, Pvt. Benjamin F.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Lambo, Pvt. Michael-jd. 2/27/18, DW. 9/7/18.

Lane, Pvt. Leshe V -Td. 4/11/18.

Langbammer, PFC. Joseph H.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Lapierre, Pvt. Joseph J.-Jd- 3/18/18, G. 8/12/18.

Lebel, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 10/22/18-

Leitch, Pvt. Ellsworth-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/16/18.

Lenchinsky, Mec. Paul-jd. 12/5/17, AS. 7/23/18.

Lenobel, Pvt. Randolph-jd. 4/10/18, AS. 6/16/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Lerch, Pvt. Fred B,-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/10/18, Rid. 11/16/18.

Levene, Pvt. Max-jd. 9/22/17, Wd, 8/13/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Lever, Pvt. Frank-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 8/21/18, Rjd~ 9/16/18.

Levinson, Cpl. Sol.-Jd. 9/22/17, KA. IO/S/I&

Lisiecki, Pvt. Frank F.-Jd. 2/27/18, AS. 6/16/18.

Lockhart, Pvt. George-jd. 11/24/18.

Loring, PFC. David A.-Jd. 2/27/18, DW. 9/29/18.

Lotz, Sgt. George-jd. 9/22/17, AS. 11/10/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Loveland, Joseph-jd. 11/24/18.

Lubetz, Pvt. Nathan-jd. 2/27/18, G. 8/12/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Lucht, Pvt. Carl-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/28/18.

Lunday, Pvt. George A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18, Rid. 1/10/19.

Luzadder, Pvt. John A.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Lyon, Mec. William C.-Jd. 1/29/19.

Macauley, Cpl. Cliff ord-jd. 9/22/17, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

Macbinski, Pvt. Frank-jd. 9/23/18.

Madsen, Pvt. Julius-jd. 11/22/18.

Majeski, Pvt. Fred H.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Mallett, Pvt. Joseph E.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Malone, Cpl. John F.-Jd. 2/27/18, G. 8/13/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Manes, Pvt. Peter-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 10/26/18.

Marrone, Pvt. John-Jd. 12/5/17, DW. 6/3/18.

Marshall, Cpl. Ely G.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Martin, Cook Joseph C.-Jd. 2/27/18.

Matthews, Cpl. jasper N.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Mattingly, Sgt. Wm. J.-Jd. 11/22/18.

McConnell, Sgt. James H.-Jd. 9/22/17.

McCrimlisk, PFC. Stephen J.-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 10/13/18, Rid. 12/23/1&

McGillis, Pvt. Fred-jd. 9/23/18, UW. 8/14/18.

McGovern, Sgt. Thomas A.-Jd. 9/22/17.

McKay, PFC. Joseph A.-Jd. 2/27/18, AS. 9/19/18, Rid. 10/8/18.

McLoughlin, Pvt. John P.-Jd. 2/25/t8, AS. 6/25/18.

McSherry, Pvt. Lawrence J.-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 7/20/18.

Mello, Pvt. Manuel F.-Jd. 10/22/18, AS. 12/26/18.

Meyer, Pvt. Edmund E.-Jd. 11 /22/18-

Michaels, PFC. Herman-jd. 9/22/18, AS.10/5/18, Rid. 10/23/18.

Minick, Pvt. Ray C.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Minschull, Pvt. John-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 8/8/ /18.

Mitchell, Pvt. Henry G.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Monahan, Pvt. Henry-jd. 2/25/18, Tr. 12/20/18.

Montano, Pvt. Alfredo-jd. 9/23/18.

Moran, Sgt. John K.-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 7/5/18.

Morford, Pvt. Benjamin F.-Jd. 11/22,18.

Alorbart, Cpl. William-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/26/18.

Moser, Pvt. James F,-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11 /1/18.

Mulcare, Pvt. William-J6. 9/29/17, AS. 21/6/19.

Munson, Pvt. Elmer W.-Jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 5/23/18.

Murphy, Pvt. Thomas A.--Jd. 7/3/18, Wd. 10/13/18.

Muscietro, Pvt. GiovanDi-jd. 2/23/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Nelson, PFC. Williarn H.-Jd. 9/22/17, KA. 9/29/18.

Newzell, PFC. Alfred-jd. 11/22/18.

O'Brien, Pvt. Frank D.-Jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 3/ 26/19.

O'Brien, Pvt. Thomas-jd. 11/24/18.

O'Brien, Pvt. Timothy N,'.-Jd. 2/22/17, Wd. 10/2/18.

O'Connell, Pvt. John A.-Jd. 9/23/18.

O'Connor, PFC. Jeremiah-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 6/5/18.

O'Dea, Sgt. johnF.-Jd. 9/22/17, KA.9/29/18.

O'Keefe, PFC. Michael W.-Jd. 9/28/17

Orce, PFC. William E.-Jd. 12/5/17.

Orsborn, Pvt. John B.-Jd. 10/20/18.

O'Shaughnessy, PFC. Frank-jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 10/5/18.

Ozino, Cook Antonio Al.-Jd. 2/25/18.

Palazzo, Pvt. Cosirno-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 8/13/18.

Papa, PFC. Pasquale-jd. 9 /28/17, DW. 6/3/18.

Pendleton, Sgt. Frank A.-Jd. 9/22/117, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 1/4/19, AS. 1/21/19, Rid. 3/18/19.

Peterson, Cpl. Jonas P.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Peterson, Sgt. W. S.-Jd. 9/22/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Phillips, Pvt. Henry S.-Jd. 4/6/18.

Piacentino, Pvt. Francesco-jd. 9/30/17,

Poe, Pvt. Virgil-jd. 11/24/18.

Polidora, Pvt. Quidino-jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 8/14/18.

Potter, Sgt. Henry J.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Potter, Pvt. Taylor-jd. 11/22/18.

Poules, Bglr. Alexandre-jd. 9/28/17,Wd. 8/13/18,

Punchkoski, Pvt. Tgnatz-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 6/16/18.

Purificato, Pvt. ben-jd. 2/27/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Quinn, Pvt. William-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 11/8/18.

Rarey, PFC. Glenn W.-Jd. 9/23/I8, Tr. 12/20/18

Rachmilevitz, Mec. Isaac-jd. 9/22/17.

Rauff, Pvt. David-jd. 4/10/18.

Reardon, Pvt. James P.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 2/6/19

Reed, Pvt. Burl-jd. 10/20/18, Wd. 11/2/18.

Reeves, Cpl. Omer L.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Rickert, Cpl. Frank J.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Rider, Cpl. Furman E.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Riley, Pvt. John-jd. 12/5/17, AS. 6/16/18.

Ritter, Pvt. Benjamin-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/26/18

Roat, Sgt. Robert R.-Comd. 7/12/18.

Roberson, Pvt. Archie D.-Jd. 11/22/18, AS 3/10/19.

Robison, Pvt. Archie D.-Jd. 11/24/18, AS 1/24/19.

Romano, Pvt. Matthew-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/11/18.

ROSeDfeld PFC. Abe-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/29/18, Rid. 3~19/19

Rowan, Pvt. Charles-jd. 2/23/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Roy, Pvt, Henry F.-Jd. 11/22/18,

Ruoff, Pvt. Edwin V.-Jd. 2/27/18, DW. 6/3/18.

Ryan, Cpl. Alexander E.-Jd. 2/27/18.

Ryan, Pvt. William M.-Jd. 10/4/18, KA. 9/28/18

Saladino, Cpl. William L.-Jd. 9/22/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Sanchez, PFC. Salustiano R.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/28/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Savino, Cpl. Rocco-jd. 9/22/17.

Scargall, PFC. Carl T.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/16/18, Tr. 4/6/19.

Schanker, PFC. Meyer-jd. 3/18/18.

Scheffer, Pvt. Percy L.-Jd. 2/22/18, AS. 6/3/18.

Scherbluk, Pvt. John-jd. 3/18/18.

Schiano, Pvt. Michael-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 8/12/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Schlauch, Pvt. Frederick-jd. 4/10/18.

Schlossmann, Pvt. Harry-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/8/18, Rid. 11/18/18.

Schockly, Pvt. Thomas B.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Schratweiscr, Sgt. A. J.-Jd. 9/28/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Schwab, Pvt. Frederick-jd. 12/9/17, DW. 6/4/18.

Schwarz, Pvt. John E.-Jd. 2/27/18.

Shannon, Cpl. George-jd. 4/10/18, G. 8/12/18, Rid. 10/21/18.

Shaughnessy, Sgt. Charles S.-Jd. 1/5/18, Comd. 7/12/18.

Shaw, Cpl. Henry J.-Jd. 3/20/18.

Sheehy, Sgt. George E.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Shirley, Pvt. Robert B.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/14/18.

Siegrist, Sgt. William-jd. 9/22/18, Tr. 7/24/18, Comd. 9/26/18.

Silverman, Pvt. Israel-jd. 12/8/17, Wd. 9/26/18.

Sinderhauf, Sup. Sgt. William F.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 9/6/18, Rid. 9/9/18.

Sliter, Pvt. Albert D.-id. 3/18/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Slohodof, Pvt. Louis-jd. 12/8/17, AS. 8/17/18,

Snyder, Pvt. Floyd-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/24/18, Rid. 10/16/18.

Schroer, Cpl. Isidore-jd. 9/22/17.

Sokolosky, Pvt. Joseph S.-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 10/7/18.

Sommella, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 6/3/18.

Sorano, PFC. Nick-jd. 4/10/18.

Sorenson, Pvt. Louis A.-Jd. 9/25/18, AS. 10/8/18. Rid. 11/25/18, Tr. 3/7/19.

Sorensen, Pvt. Sophus-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/26/18.

Speidel, Sgt, Ambrose-jd. 11/22/18.

Spitz, Pvt. Christian-id. 9/23/18, G. IT/1/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

Splaneman, Pvr. Paul A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/4/18.

Stiehle, PFC. Henry-jd. 9/18/18.

Strand, Pvt. Carl W.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10//7/18, Rid. 1/23/18, AS. 1/9/19.

Strazza, Pvt. Angelo-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 6/3/18.

Stubenvoll, Pvt. Harry-jd. 6/30/18, AS. 9/28/18.

Sullivan, Pvt. Leo F.-Jd. 9/20/17.

Sullivan, Sup. Sgt. Thomas Alex-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 7/24/18.

Sultos, PFC. Andrew S.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/17-18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Swain, Sgt. William M.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Swinton, PFC. George.-Jd. 9/23/l8, AS. 10/28/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

Taber, Pvt. Verrill-jd. 11/22/18.

Tanzi, Pvt. Louis-jd. 11/17/18, G. 8/12/18.

Tarkagakes, Pvt. Nicholas J.-Jd. 2/25//18, DW. 6/3/18.

Thoering, Mess Sgt. Charles W.-Jd. 9/22/17, AS. 8/6/18.

Thonct, PFC. Monroe E.-Jd. 2/29/18, AS. 9/6/18.

Tilley, PFC. Willard-jd. 12/5/17, Tr. 12/20/18.

Tohill, Pvt. Noah-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 9/28/18, Rid. 12/6/18, Tr. 3/7/19.

Tormey, Pvt. Frank P.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Torsiello, Pvt. Frank-jd. 2/27/18, KA. 10/10/18.

Tracy, Pvt. William J.-Jd. 12/8/17, AS. 6/3/18.

Truschke, Pvt. Frank P.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Tucker, PFC. Epurgian K.-Jd. 11/16/18, Tr. 12/20/18.

Tuckerman, Pvt. Emil-jd. 2/25/18, DW. 6/4/18.

Uhlig, Pvt. Leo M.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Umina, Pvt. Daetano-jd. 2/27/18, KA. 10/8/18.

Van Voorst, PFC. Alvin S.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/28/18, Rid. 11/16/18.

Varani, Pvt. Joseph M.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/3/18.

Verrigni, PFC. Giuseppe-jd. 3/18//18, AS, 10/23/18.

Voelk, Cpl. John-jd. 2/27/18, G. 10/6/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Wagner, Sgt. Ferdinand-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/26/18.

Walker, Cpl. James V.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Wall, Cpl. John O.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Walsh, Cook George M.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Walsh, PFC. James J.-Jd. 12/6/17, Wd. 9/29/18.

Waseca, Pvt. August A.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 11/9/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Wasserman, Pvt. Nathan-jd. 9/23/17, AS. 6/3/18.

Waters, Cpl. Philip J.-Jd. 9/22/17, DW. 6/3/18.

Wawrzynski, Bglr. John J,-Jd. 9/22/17.

COMPANY - C

Legend

Jd. joined., Tr. transferred; Rid. Rjd. or Rej. rejoined; W. or WD., wounded; D.W., died of wounds; D.D. died of disease; K.A. killed in action; M., missing; G. gassed; A.S., absent sick; Pr. promoted; Comd., commissioned

Alexander, Sgt. Joseph E.-Jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 9/2/18, Comd. 10/16/18,

Alexander, PFC. Solomon-jd. 3/l/18.

Allen, PFC. Herbert R.-Jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 8/8/18.

Alper, Pvt. Aaron-jd. 9/22/17.

Amodio, PFC. Pietro-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 10/12/18.

Anderson, Pvt. John R.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 11/4/18.

Angier, PFC. Reuben F.-Jd. 10/22/18. Arnold, Sgt. R. J.-Jd. 9/23/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Arnold, PFC. William B.-Jd. 9/22/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Athy, Pvt. John J.-Jd. 10/20/18, Wd. 11/5/18.

Bahem, Pvt. Carl-jd. 9/23/18. Wd. 10/6/18, Rjd 1/2/19.

Ballweg, Pvt. Constantine-jd. 11/3/18.

Balog, Pvt. John-jd. 9/23/18.

Barnicle, Pvt. Fred H.-Jd. 10/20/18, G. 11/4/18.

Barrett, Sgt. Thomas F.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 10/10/18.

Barth, Sgt. Frederick-jd. 9/22/17,

Bates, Pvt. Freeman A.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Bays, Pvt. Jesse J.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 11,1/9/18.

Beaudry, PFC. William E.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Belaief, PFC. Nlicheal G.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Berard, Pvt. Hector A.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Bergstein, Pvt. Bennie jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 11/3/18.

Berner, Sgt. Max Al. jd. 9/22 / /17. Wd. 9/28 /18.

Bernstein, Cpl. Herman-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 8/16/18.

Binder, PFC. Alexander-jd. 9/28/17.

Blackman, Pvt. Robert IV. jd. 4/20/18.

Blanchette, Pvt. Walter Jd. 9/201/18, AS. 11/25/18.

Booth, PFC. Robert H.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Boulte, Sgt. Harry W.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Bova, Cpl. Anthony E.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 11/19/18.

Brandon, Pvt. William J.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Braverman, Pvt. Morris-jd. 3/4/18.

Brennan, Cpl. Patrick-jd. 9/20/17.

Brener, Pvt. Louis-jd. 9/22/17.

Bridgemann, Sgt. Joseph-jd. 4/6/18.

Brincil, Cpl. Anton-jd. 4/11/18.

Brock, Pvt. Julius-Jd. 10/10/17, Wd. 11/4/18.

Brodsky, Pvt. Harry M.-Jd. 3/1/18.

Brown, Pvt. Allen V.-Jd. 7/20/18.

Brown, Pvt. Jess E.-Jd. 10/20/18, G. 11/4/18.

Bruner, Bglr. Rufus-Jd. 11/22/18.

Bryant, PFC. Harold M.-id. 3/18/18.

Caddy, Pvt. Peter-jd. 3/18/18.

Campbell, Pvt. Burt F.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 8/16/18.

Campbell, Cpl. Patrick A.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Caputo, PFC. Anthony-jd. 9/28/17.

Carpo, Pvt. Pasquale-jd. 3/1/18, Wd. 10/12/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Cartazzo, Pvt. Emilio-jd. 2/27/l8, KA. 10/10/18.

Catalano, Cpl. Solomon-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/4/18.

Chainyk, PFC. Andro-jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 10/12/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Chassard, Cook Albcrt-Jd. 9/22/17.

Chott, Pvt. Joseph J.-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd~ 10/10/18.

Ciannono, Pvt. Giuseppe-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/1/19, Rid. 2/15/19.

Cohen, Pvt. Abraharn-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/6/19-

Cohen, Pvt. Abraham-jd. 10/22/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Cohen, Pvt. Raphael-jd. 2/27/18, KA. 9/2/18.

Coit, PFC. Frank J.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/8/18.

Coleman, Cook Joseph-jd. 9/22/17.

Cornett, Sgt. Melvin-jd. 11/22/18, Tr. 3/16/19.

Corsi, Pvt. Harry M.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Cosgrove, PFC. Daniel-jd. 10/22/18.

Craig, Pvt. William P.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/19/19.

Craig, PFC. William P.-Jd. 10/22/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Crannoy, Pvt. Wilfred L.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/8/19

Croce, Cpl. Louis J.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Crofts, Pvt. Myrle E,-Jd. 9/23/18.

Culliton, PFC. Edward J.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Daniels, Pvt. William C.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/16/18.

Dashevsky, PFC. Samuel-jd. 3/1/18, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 8/26/18.

Davis, Pvt. Albert M.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/11/18.

Davis, Pvt. Edward-jd. 9/23/18, DW. 10/25/18.

De Badts, Pvt. Orie-jd. 3/18/18, KA. 9/26/18.

Demers, Pvt. Joseph F.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/25/18.

Dc Neef, PFC. Abraham J.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/28/18.

De Nering, Pvt. John D.-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 9/26/18.

Desgres, Pvt. Ulderic-Jd. 3/18/18.

Deso, PFC. Clarence E.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Dew, Pvt. George W.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/5/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Diamond, PFC. Frank J.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Di Angelis, PFC. Anthony-Jd. 9/22/17, AS. 9/2/18.

Dickhaus, Cpl. Ernest O.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 8/13/18.

Di Lorenzo, Pvt. AntoDio-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 10/12/18.

Dixon, Pvt. Charles-Jd. 10/20/18.

Donnelly, Pvt. William J.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Doran, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/1/18.

Doran, Cpl. James-Jd- 9/22/18, Wd. 10/1,0/18,

Dorocki Pvt. Ton)---Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 11/1/18.

Dowd, ~Tess Sgt. Jeremiah,-Jd. 9/28/17.

Dredger, Pvt. Henry J.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Driscoll, PFC. John J--Jd. 10/20/18.

Drohan, PFC. John P.-Jd. 12/5/17.

Duncan, Pvt. Neil E.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS, 11/5/18.

Dunn, Cpl. James-jd. 10/22/18. Rid. 11/16/18.

Dunn, Cpl. John L.-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 9/15/18, Rid. 9/30/18.

Dunne, Pvt. Joseph F.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Dyke, Cpl. Edwin C.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/5/18, Rid. 10/21/18.

Earley, PFC. James J.-Jd. 10/20/18, G. 11/5/18, Rid. 11/17/18.

Ecay, Ist Sgt. Elmer S.-Jd. 9/28/17, Comd. 7/12/18, KA. 9/26/18, 28th Division.

Eichelmann, Cpl. Henry C.-Jd. 4/11/18.

Elliott, PFC. P. B.-Jd. 1/5/18, Comd. 7/12/18.

Eula, Pvt. Louis-jd. 12/5/17, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 11/14/18.

Eustace, Cpl. Richard-jd. 9/22/18, G. 11/5/18, Rid. 11/17/18.

Evans, Sgt. Albert E.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 11/4/18. Evans, Pvt. James G.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Evans, Pvt. Omer-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 12/19/18.

Farber, Pvt. William-jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 11/15/18. Farrell, PFC. James A.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Finnerty, PFC. Edward T.-Jd. 9/28/17, DW. 10/5/18.

Fischer, PFC. William J.-Jd. 3/4/18.

Flabive, PFC. Patrick D.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 8/31/18.

Fleming, PFC. George A.-Jd. 4/20/18.

Folmsbee, Pvt. Erastus-jd. 3/18/18, AS. 11/4/18.

Forrester, Pvt. Harry B.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 10/2/18.

Frankle, PFC. Herman-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 10/4/18.

Franklin, PFC. Thomas H. J.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 11/2/18.

Freeman, Sgt. Harold S.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Friedman, Cpl. Ira J.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/26/18.

Fulling, Cook Bertram E.-Jd. 9/28/17, G. 8/16/18, Rid. 8/21/18.

Galmin, PFC. Stanler-jd. 3/23/18.

Garbrick, PFC. John G.-Jd. 3/6/18.

Garrity, Pvt. James A.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Gelke, Cpl. Rudolph-jd. 3/l/18.

Genen, Cpl. William M.-Jd. 9/22/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Gerard, Pvt. Harry C.-Jd. 3/5/18.

Giannone, Pvt. Guiseppe-jd. 9/23/18.

Gibson, Pvt. Everett L.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Gillings, Cpl. Albert A.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Gillispie, Alch. Harvey--Jd. 11/22/18.

Giuggio, Pvt. Pietro-jd. 2/16/18, AS. 8/30/118.

Glackemeyer, Pvt. Ferdinand-jd. 2/27/18, Tr. 12/1/18.

Godbey, Pvt. Noah-jd. 12/6/18.

Gold, Pvt. Isidore-jd. 3/5/18,

Goldklang, Pvt. Max-jd. 2/27/18, DW. 8/25/18.

Goldman, Pvt. Samuel-jd. 3/1/18, Wd. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Golembe, Pvt. Isidore-jd. 2/25/18, AS. 11/29/18.

Goren, Pvt. Jacob-jd. 3/l/18.

Grace, PFC. John F.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Grandinetti, Cpl, John-jd. 9/22/18, G. 11/4/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Gray, Pvt. Charles C.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Grazias, Cpl. Anthony-jd. 9/22/17,

Gregory, Sgt. Cyrus-jd. 11/22/18.

Gregory, Sgt. James D.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Griffen, Cpl. John M.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Griffith, Cpl. Leslie-jd. 11/22/18.

Groesbeck, Pvt. Burt J.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/10/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Gross, Pvt. Philip M.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Guillotte, PFC. Philamon-jd. 3/23/18.

Gunger, Cpl. Lawrence M.-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 9/26/18.

Gunther, Sup. Sgt. Frederick S.-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 7/24/18.

Gustin, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 3/6/18, G. 10/5/18, Rid.11/18/18.

Hagarty, Pvt. Michael J.-Jd. 9/23/18, DIAI. 10/t6/18.

Hague, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 3/23/18, Tr. 3/10/19.

Hamby, Pvt. Hoyt-Jd. 10/20/18.

Hannah, Pvt. Charley M.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Haran, PFC. Anthony-jd. 4/13/18.

Harding, Pvt. Archie L.-Jd. 2/26/18, Wd. 9/6/18,

Hayden, Pvt. Edward J.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/5/18

Heflin, Pvt. Roscoe F.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Henderson, Pvt. Lee E.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Heos, PFC. Pete A.-Jd. 4/11/18.

Hignight, Pvt. Marion M.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Hilker, Pvt. Carl H.-Jd. 10/10/17.

Hill, Cpl. George-jd. 9/28/17, G. 8/17/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Hilton, Sgt. Charles L.-Jd. 9/28/17, KA. 10/10/18

Hindlea, PFC. Charles-jd. 9/28/17.

Hinthorn, Pvt. Roy E.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/2/19.

Hinthorn, PFC. Wilmer E.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/3/19.

Hofmeister, Cpl. Frank-jd. 12/5/17.

Holzman, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 9/29/17, AS. 121/6/18, Rid. 12/14/18.

Hudgens, Pvt. Jesse F.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Huebert, PFC. Samuel J.-Jd. 10/12/17.

Hughes, Sgt. Joseph J.-Jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 8/24/18.

Hupfer, Pvt. William N.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/4/18.

Hutton, Cpl. John R.-Jd. 4/11/18.

Hutzelman, Pvt. John-jd. 9/24/18.

Imperial, Pvt. joseph-jd. 4/9/18.

Itskowitz, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 3/4/18, Tr. 6/5/18.

Jacobson, Pvt. Jacob-jd. 3/4/18, Wd. 10/11/18, Rid. 10/12/18.

jenness, Pvt. Forrest L.-Jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/15/18.

Jensen, Pvt. Morris S.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/12/18.

Jenson, Sgt. Richard-jd. 9//22/17, Tr. 7/5/18.

Johnson, Pvt. August-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/ 11/ 18, Rid. 12/31/18.

Johnson, Pvt. Carl E.-Jd. 4/10/18, Wd. 10/ 12/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

Johnson, Pvt. Carl H.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 11/9/18.

Johnson, Pvt. Nick-jd. 9/23/18

Johnson, Pvt. William C.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Johnson, Pvt. William G.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Johnston, Pvt. John-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/5/18.

Johnston, Pvt. Obie-jd. 11/24/18.

Jones, Mess Sgt. Alva A -Jd. 11/22/18.

Jones, Cook Marion-jd 11/22/18.

Jones, Sgt. Webster, Jr.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 10/10/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

Jones, PFC. William C.-id. 11/22/18, Tr. 1/25/19

Jones, Cpl. William L.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Kacharski, Pvt. John-jd. 2/27/18, Tr. 1//1/19.

Kantrud, Pvt. Gustav M.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 2/7/19.

Kaufman, PFC. Henry J.-Jd. 4/13/ 18.

Kavanagh, S,-t. Fenton J.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Keenan, Cpl. William M.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Keller, PFC. Harry F.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Kenzie, Cpl. Charles-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 6/30/18.

Kerrigan, Pvt, John J.-Jd. 2/27/18, Tr. 6/5/18.

Kiernan, Bglr. John Joseph-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/27/18.

Kiersted, Pvt. Thomas F.-Jd. 7/20/18.

Kieskowski, Pvt. Valdy-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 10/12/18.

Kilmartin, Pvt. Frank-jd. 9/23/18.

Kincaid, Pvt. George W.-Jd. 11/24/18, AS. 2/13/19, Rid. 3/20/19.

King, Cpl. Marvin H.--Jd. 11/22/18.

Klapperich, Pvt. John-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/14/18.

Kneckt, Pvt. Carl-jd. 11/24/18.

Knowland, PFC. Alfred-jd. 9/23/18.

Knude, Pvt. Frederick--Jd. 9/23/18.

Koci, PFC. Frank-jd. 9/23/18.

Koehler, PFC. Clarence H.-Jd. 2/27/18, KA. 9/2/18.

Kohler, PFC. Paul J.-Jd. 2/216, 18, Wd. 8/13/18.

Kolb, PFC. Harry C.-Jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 1/9/19.

Kolter, PFC. Charles M.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Kriete, Sgt. Arthur S.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Kudasiewicz, PFC. Michael-jd, 4/8/18.

Kveseth, Pvt. Carl-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/9/18.

La Croix, Pvt. Charles-jd. 10/20/18, Wd. 11/10/18.

Lafrazia, Pvt. Pasquale-jd. 10/22/18.

Lally, Pvt. Anthony T.--Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 10/6/18.

Lampros, PFC. Gus-jd. 12/4/17, Wd. 10/6/18, Rid. 3/25/19.

Lampula, Pvt. Otto H.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Lander, PFC. Walter M.-Jd. 12/5/17.

Lane, Pvt. Roger-jd. 3/18/18.

Lange, Pvt. Theodore F.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 7/22/18.

Lanyon, PFC. Cecil E.-Jd. 12/9/17, AS. 8/30/18.

La Rocca, PFC. Guiseppe-jd. 3/19/18.

Larsen, Pvt. Edwin-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Lashua, PFC. Edward A.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Lawson, Pvt. Onnie R.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Le Clerc, Pvt. George R.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Lefurgy, Sgt. Warren D.-Jd. 12/4/17.

Lehnfeld, Pvt. John-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 9/28/18.

Leonard, Sgt, Conroy-jd. 9/27/17, AS. 2/12/19, Rjd.3/25/19.

Leonard, Pvt. Elmer O.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/5/18.

Lerario, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 9/22/17, KA. 10/101/18.

Lestum, Pvt. Ole-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Levinson, Cpl. Max-jd. 9/22/17.

Levinson, Pvt. Sam-Jd. 9/23/17, Wd. 10/4/18, Rid. 10/31/18.

Lichtenstein, PFC. Hyman G.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 8/13/18.

Lindahl, Mch. Emil C.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/8/18, Rid. 10/7/18.

Liptak, Pvt. Andrew-jd. 12/4/17, Tr. 9/15/18.

Livingston, Cpl. Paul--Jd. 11/22/18.

Lo Cascio, Pvt. Gaspari-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 10/4/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Lokken, Pvt. John A.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Lout, Pvt. Charles H.-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 10/7/18.

Luellen, Pvt. Clyde E.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Lyons, Cpl. Edmund E.-Jd. 3/18/18.

McCabe, Pvt. Peter J.-Jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 11/3/18.

McCarthy, PFC. George V.-Jd. 3/18/18.

McCauley, Pvt. Charles-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 10/28/18.

McCaullcy, Pvt. James F.-Jd. 9/28/17, AS. 2/1/19, Rid. 2/25/19.

McDonald, Cook Charles W.-Jd. 9/28/17, Tr. 8/21/18.

McFarland, Pvt. Clarence E.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/5/18.

McGarry, Cpl. James F.-Jd. 9/28/17.

McGaughey, Pvt. Eddie C.-Jd. 9/23/18.

McGowan, Pvt. James J.-Jd. 9/29/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

McGuinness, Ist Sgt. George A.-Jd. 9/22/17, G. 11/1/18, Rid. 11/5/18.

McIntosh, Sgt. Cleve-jd. 11/22/18.

McKevett, Sgt. Charles F.-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 11/10/18.

McMaster, Pvt. William G.-Jd. 9/23/18, DW. 10/28/18.

McQuade, PFC. William F.-Jd. 9/28/17.

McRae, Pvt. George A.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Mairowitz, Pvt. Isidore-jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 8/13/18.

Mann, Pvt. Harry---Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/12/18.

Manning, Pvt. James-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Markovich, Pvt. Milovan-jd. 9/23/18.

Martelli, PFC. Antonio-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Martin, Pvt. Benjamin-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/4/18.

Martin, Pvt. James F.-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 8/15/18.

Martinez, Pvt. Enacio-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/5/18, Rid. 1/27/19.

Mason, PFC. Henry-jd. 3/18/18, KA. 8/12/18.

Mathis, Pvt. Rudolph-jd~ 12/8/17, KA. 11/8/18.

Meacham, Pvt. Paul-jd. 9/23/18.

Meehan, Cpl. johnW.-Jd. 9/28/17,Wd. 10/11/18.

Messenger, PFC. Leonard C.-Jd. 3/13/18.

Meury, Pvt. Fred M.-Jd. 2/27/18, DD. 9/29/18.

Miele, Pvt. Pellegrino-jd. 12/9/17, Wd. 9/4/18. Rid. 3/18/19.

Millard, Pvt. Fred S.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/28/18.

Miller, Pvt. Charles W.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Monahan, Pvt. James-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 9/27/18.

Monahan, Cpl. James-jd. 4/10/18.

Monroe, Pvt. James M.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Montalto, Pvt. Angelo-jd. 10/9/17, Wd. 10/11/ 18, Rid. 3/18/19.

Montano, Pvt. John M.-Jd. 9/23/18, DW. 10/18/18.

Moore, Pvt. Clare-jd. 9/23/18.

Moore, Sgt. Joseph F.-Jd. 3/10/18.

Moore, Pvt. Leslie G.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Moster, Pvt. Max-jd. 4/10/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 10/13/18.

Murray, Pvt. James-jd. 9/23/18.

Murray, Pvt. Thomas-jd. 9/27/17, Wd. 10/13/18.

Muzzy, Pvt. Charles E.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 9/26/18,

Mykland, Pvt. Albert-jd. 9/23/18.

Nedved, Pvt. Jeny J.-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/11/18.

Nellson, Pvt. Asbby-jd. 9/23/18.

Nelson, Pvt. Lester-jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/6/18, Rid. 11/16/18.

Nelson, Pvt. Ora R.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 10/5/18.

Notch, Cook Joseph-jd. 12/5/17.

Nutchick, Pvt. Anthony-jd. 9/28/17. Wd. 10/11/18, Rid. 12/28/18.

O'Brien, Pvt. William-jd. 10/11/17, KA. 10/15-18.

O'Donohue, Sgt. James-jd. 9/22/17.

Oakley, Cpl. Charles S.-Jd. 12/5/17.

Old, Pvt. Efton R.-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 10/10/18.

Olson, Mec. John W.-Jd. 9/28/17, G. 8/17/18.

Orner, Cpl. Evans-jd. 11/22/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Optofsky, Pvt. Moses-jd. 2/27/18, KA. 10/10/18.

Osen, Pvt. John G.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/12/18.

Parkhurst, Pvt. Dan E.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/9/18.

Parn, Pvt. Frank J -jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/5/18.

Pasternack, Pvt. Martin-jd. 3/4/18.

Patterson, Pvt. James B.-Jd. 9/21/17, KA. 9/7/18.

Pebl, Pvt. Gustav-jd. 9/23/18, DW. 10/4/18.

Pell, Pvt. George-jd. 9/23/18, KA. 10/4/18

Penoli, Pvt. Necomede-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/15/18.

Person, Pvt. Lloyd B.-Jd. 12/8/17, DW. 6/11/18.

Pfost, Sgt. Alfred E.-Jd. 9/22/17, Comd. (not known), Tr. 9/13/18.

Phegley, Pvt. Percy-jd. 9/23/18, AS. 2/l/19, Rid. 3/15/19.

Phelan, PFC. Walter F.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Phillips, Pvt. Daniel-jd. 11/24/18.

Phillips, Pvt. Henry-jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 3/10/19.

Pickett, Pvt. George-jd. 9/23/18, KA. 9/26/18.

Pierre, Pvt. Andre-jd. 3/l/18.

Potter, Pvt. Stanley-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/12/18

Powers, Cpl. Joseph F.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Prentice, Cpl. Russell-jd. 9/22/17, KA. 9/27/18.

Province, Pvt. Chancuy E.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/1/18, Rid. 11/25/18.

Pulliam, Pvt. Lawrence E.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Racjkowski, PFC. Antonio-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/6/18.

Rais, PFC. Willliarn-jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 10/17/18.

Ratcliff , PFC. Frank B.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 9/4//18.

Regan, Pvt. Michael J.-Jd. 4/10/18.

Reilly, Cpl. Thomas D. Jr.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Revman, Sgt. Jacob-jd. 9/22/17.

Richards,' Cpl. Orlando H.-Jd. 9/22/17, AS. 9/23/18.

Riordan, Pvt. John F.-Jd. 10/11/17,Wd. 10/10/18.

Robinson, Pvt. Jeff D.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Rosmarin, Ist Sgt. Louis-Jd. 9/28/17.

Ruppert, PFC. George-jd. 9/22/17.

Rustad, Pvt. Edward A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd, 10/10/18, Rjd. 1/2/19.

Sandifer, Bglr. Randall-Jd. 11/22/18.

Sandus, Pvt. Sam-Jd- 2/27/18, AS. 6/4/18

-Sangston, Pvt. Joseph-Jd. 9/23/18, KA. 10/7/18.

Savage, Pvt. George L.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Scharf, Pvt. Albert-Jd. 11/22/18.

Schatz, Pvt. Jacob-Jd. 9/23/17, AS. 10/6/18.

Schielein, Pvt. William H.-Jd 11/22/18.

Schley, Pvt. William F.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Schmidt, Pvt. Leo-Jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 8/16/18.

Schmitz, Pvt. Lawrence J.-Jd. 11/22/18-

Schneider, Pvt. Henry~-Jd. 9/22/17, Tr. 9/24/18.

Schoonover, Cpl. Charles-Jd. 9/30/17, KA. 10/10/18.

Schwartz, Pvt. Jacob-Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 11/2/18.

Scudder, Pvt. James E.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Seal, Pvt. Robert T.-id. 9/23/18.

Seblasky, Pvt. William-Jd. 10/20/18.

Seifried, Mch. Albert-Jd. 9/22/17.

Senior, PFC. Joseph J., Jr.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Shaffer, Pvt. Andrew-Jd. 11/22/18.

Shearon, Pvt. Alva C.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Shepherd, Pvt. Boyd G.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Sheridan, Cpl. Thos. J.-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 10/9/18.

Sherry, Pvt. Sivert-Jd. 9/23/18.

Shinn, Pvt, Jesse A.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 10/6/18.

Sitheris, Pvt. Constantine-jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 11/10/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Smirileos, Sgt. Hercules-Jd. 9/12/17, Wd. 11/1/18, Rid. 11/2/18.

Smith, Pvt. John E.-Jd. 11/16/18, AS. 11/20/18.

Sostak, Pvt. Steve-Jd. 9/23/17, Wd. 9/28/18.

Speight, Cpl. John J.-Jd. 12/4/17, Tr. 10/30/18.

Sperling, Pvt. Nathan-Jd. 10/30/18.

Sperruzza, Pvt. Pietro-Jd. 11/22/18.

Spink, Cpl. Frederick-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 1/15/19.

Spodacci, Pvt. Sandy-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 9/5/18, Rid. 10/26/18.

Stacy, Pvt. Oliver-Jd. 11/22/18. Stein, Pvt. Richard-Jd. 11/22/18.

Stenger, Pvt. Joseph J.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Stern, Sgt. Benjamin H.-Jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 11/2/18.

Stern, Bglr. Daniel-Jd. 2/27/18, G. 9/3/18.

Stockwell, Pvt. Herbert W.-Jd. 2/22/18, Tr. 5/23/18.

Stone, Sgt. Henry-Jd. 91/22/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Stordalin, Pvt. Oliver E.-Jd. 12/6/18.

Strachan, Sup. Sgt. John J--Jd. 9/28/17.

Strand, Pvt. Otto-Jd. 9/23/18, AS, 11/12/18

Stromberg, Cpl. Charles-Jd. 9/23/17, Tr. 5/23/18.

Stutzer, Pvt. Samuel B.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Sullivan, Pvt. George-Jd. 11/22/18.

Synan, Pvt. Henry-Jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 5/10/18.

Szreder, PFC. Zygmont-Jd. 12/5/17, DW. 10/4/18.

Tanenbaum, PFC. Joseph J.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Tannenbaum, Pvt. Max-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 10/12/18.

Tavares, Pvt. Manuel M.-Jd. 11/16/18, AS. 12/26/18.

Tempel, Cpl. Charles-Jd. 4/13/18.

Tierney, Sgt. Edward J., Jr.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Tigue, Sup. Sgt. Joe L.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Tissot, Sgt. Claude E.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 11/1/18, Rid. 12/6/18.

Tollefsen, Pvt. Earl J,-Jd. 9/23/18.

Tompkins, Cpl. Ralph S,-Jd. 9/28/17, AS.

6/21/1&

Troeber, Pvt. Rudolph R. A.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/28/19.

Tweedly, Sgt. John-Jd. 9/28/17.

Utterback, Sgt. John H.-Jd. 2/1/18.

Vicari, Pvt. Joseph-Jd. 11/22//18, AS. 2/4/19, Rid. 2/22/19.

Wachter, Cpl. Jacob-Jd. 9/22/17, AS. 8/25/18.

Wagner, Cpl. Charles W.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Wagner, Pvt. Saul-Jd. 2/27/18, AS, 8/20/18.

Webster Pvt. William H.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Wecker, PFC. Albert J.-Jd. 12/5/17.

Welsh, Pvt. Bernard-jd. 12/7/17, AS. 9/5/18.

Welsh, PFC. John J.-Jd. 9/28/17.

Wesness, Sgt. Reider-jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 10/10/18.

Westerdahl, Pvt. Carl-Jd. 1/22/19.

Whatley, Pvt. Claude C.-Jd. 10/20/18.

White, Pvt. George C.-Jd. 10/20/18.

White, Sgt. Lester S.-Jd. 9/23/17, Tr. 7/19//18.

White, Pvt. Mark-Jd. 10/20/18.

Whyte, Cpl. Christopher-jd. 9/22/17, Wd. 8/12/18, Rid. 9/15/18.

Wilkie, Pvt. Charles-jd. 10/20/18, AS. 11/1/18.

Williams, Pvt. Walter F.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Wilson, Pvt. Thomas W.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Wister, PFC. John A.-Jd. 3/1/18, AS. 3/10/19.

Wohlrab, Pvt. Walter-jd. 9/22/17.

Wolfe, Sgt. George M.-Jd. 9/22/17.

Wolfert, Pvt. Charles B.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 12/1/18.

Wolff, Pvt. Alarick-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd. 10/3/18.

Worthington, Cpl. Thomas-Jd. 12/5/17, Wd. 9/28/18.

Wright, Mess Sgt. William J.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Wyczlinski, Pvt. Joseph C.-Jd. 2/27/18, KA. 9/27/18. -

Vadon, Cpl. David-Jd. 11/22/18.

Young, Pvt. Zans-Jd. 10/20/18.

COMPANY - D

Legend

Jd. joined., Tr. transferred; Rid. Rjd. or Rej. rejoined; W. or WD., wounded; D.W., died of wounds; D.D. died of disease; K.A. killed in action; M., missing; G. gassed; A.S., absent sick; Pr. promoted; Comd., commissioned

Abbate, Pvt. Pasquale-jd. 2/25/18, Wd. 10/2/18.

Airheart, PFC. Graham C.-Jd. 111/24/18, Tr.

12 /20/18.

Alcorn, Pvt. Harry-jd. 11/22/18.

Amorosino, PFC. Frank-jd. 12/5/ /17, AS. 7/22/18.

Anderson, Pvt. Roger F.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Andriano, Pvt. Nicola-jd. 9/28/17, AS. 81/21/18.

Appleman, PFC. Jake-jd. 10/8/17, Wd. 10/3/18,

Rid. 11/3/18.

Armour, Pvt. Daniel J.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 10/13/18, Rid. 11/3/18, AS. 11/,5/18, Rid. 12/20/18.

Austin, Sgt. Francis R.-Jd. 9/23/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Bailey, Pvt. William H -Jd. 12/7/17, AS. 12/2/18.

Ball, Cpl. Charles, Jr.-Jd. 9/30/17.

Barber, Pvt. Homer-Jd. 3/18/18, KA. 9/26/18.

Barber, Pvt. Rosa-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/8/18.

Barnes, Pvt. Nathan E.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Baroch, Pvt. Frank J.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/5/18, Rid. 12/16/18.

Baron, PFC. William-jd. 10/22/18.

Barry, Pvt. John J., Jr.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Blatz, PFC. Charles M.-Jd. 10/7/17.

Beardon, PFC. James W.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Beardslee, Sgt. Fred H.-Jd. 9/28/17, Wd.10/4/18, Rid. 2/4/19.

Beckman, Sgt. William F.-Jd. 9/30/17, K-,k.11/2/18.

Beeman, Pvt. Irving O.-Jd. 9/23/18, AS. 1/1/19.

Bellinger, Pvt. Howard- -Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 9/26/18, Rid. 10/26/18

Benner, Pvt. Robert II.-Jd. 91/23/18, G. 10/5/18.

Bengert, Sgt. Charles J.- Jd. 9/28/17, Comd, 2d. Lieut, 7/12/18.

Bergman, Cpl. Anton F.- -Jd. 2/27/18, Wd. 9/ 6/ 18.

Bernard, Sgt. David AT.-Jd. 0/30/18.

Berrian, Pvt. Alvert E., Jr.-Jd. 10, 8,, 17, Fr. 12 /1 / 18.

Beyer, Pvt. Carl-jd. 12/8/17, AS. 10/18,18.

Bimblich, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 9/30/17, Tr. 4/10/19.

Birsh, Sgt. Abram S.--Jd. 9/23/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Black, PFC. Joseph A.-Jd. 9/23/18, Wd. 10/318, Rjd. 12/16/18.

Blair, Pvt. John-jd. 9/23/18, G, 11/5/18.

Bledsoe, Pvt. E'rvin C.-Jd. 11/24/18.

Bleccker, Pvt. Arthur-Jd. 10/8/17.

Blocker, Pvt. Walter-jd. 2 /27 /18.

Boatman, Pvt. Clyde E.-Jd. 9/23/18, G. 10/5/18.

Boley, Pvt. Ralph D.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Bonoquisto, Pvt. Alariano-jd. 3 / 18/ I8.

Borner, PFC. Ferdinand J.-Jd. 3/21/18.

Bostrom, Pvt. Carl R-Jd. 9,1/231/18.

Bourque, Pvt. Henry J.-Jd. 10,1/22/18.

Brayson, Pvt. James H.-Jd. 9/23/18, Tr. 1/6/19.

Brown, Pvt. Lee--Jd. 10/22/18,

Brundige, Cpl. Arthur-jd. 3/18/18, G. 11/5/18, Rid. 11/17/18.

Bryant, Pvt. Lloyd (;.--Jd. 10/22/18.

Bunce, Pvt. Harry Al.-Jd. 10/22 /18.

Burklund, Cpl. jonathan-jd. 9/23/18, Wd 11/9/18, Rid. 1/9/19.

Burns, Pvt. Andrew-Jd. 3/18/18, G. 10/6/18.

Burns, PFC. Walter AL-jd. 12/5/17.

Callan, Pvt. Walter D.-Jd. 10/22/18.

Campbell, Pvt. Christopher--Jd. 9/23/17, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 12/23/18.

Campbell, Pvt. Donald A.--Jd. 9/23/18, Wd 10/7/18.,

Carta, Pvt. Anthony-jd. 10/22/18.

Carson, Cpl. John-jd. 2/27/18, KA. 10/22/18.

Cassill, Pvt. Guy-jd. 9/23/18.

Castle, Pvt. Charles E.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Ceccarelli, PFC. Hannibal-jd. 2/27/18, KA. 9/6/18.

Chakofsky, Pvt. Paul-jd. 3/18/18.

Champoux, PFC. Henry-jd, 10/20/18, G. 11/5/18, Rid. 11/17/18.

Chart, Pvt. Frank D.-Jd. 4/11/18,

Choquette, Pvt. Afederic H.-Jd. 3/18/18, Tr. 1/6/19.

Christiensen, Pvt. George W.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Christainsen, Sgt. Harold-jd. 2/27/18, AS. 8/16/18.

Ciano, Pvt. Frank-jd. 10/22/18.

Cinque, Pvt. Joseph-jd. 4/11/18, Wd. 10/12/18, Rid. 2/4/19.

Cisch, Pvt. Harry-jd. 6/30/18, AS. 8/16/18.

Colella, Pvt. Antonio-jd. 10/20/18.

Colodny, Pvt. Abraham C.-Jd. 3/18/18, Wd. 9/6/18, Rid. 31/18/19.

Conley, Sgt. John B.-Jd. 3/18/18, AS. 8/13/18, Rid. 2/4/19.

Connors, Pvt. Francis P.-Jd. 3/18/18.

Conway, Pvt. Nlichael-jd. 4/11/18, Wd. 9/8/18, Rid. 10/26/18.

Conrad, Pvt. Clair H.-Jd. 10/20/18.

Corcoran, Pvt. Patrick J.-Jd. 10/8/17, Wd. 9/8/18.

Cortellini, Pvt. Giovanni-jd. 10/22/18.

Coscia, Pvt. Marinello-id. 3/18/18.

Coulter, Sgt. Charles J.-Jd. 9/23/17, Comd. 7/12/18.

Cousert, Cpl. Jess E.-Jd. 11/22/18.

Cox, Pvt.. Clair E.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Cristiano, Cook Frank-jd. 9 /28/17.

Corso, Pvt. Frank-jd. 3/18/18.

Cummings, Pvt. James J.-Jd. 9/8/17.

Daniels, Pvt. Hugh D.-Jd. 9/23/18.

Darmstadt, Pvt. Walter M.-Jd. 12/5/17, AS. 10/7/18.

Darrow, Pvt. Albert-jd. 10/8/17, AS. 10/15/18.

Dasaro, Pvt. George-jd. 9/28/17. Wd. 10/3/18, Rid. 12/16/18.