THE 308TH MEDICAL DETACHMENT

MEDICAL DETACHMENT, 308th INFANTRY - AT CAMP UPTON AND IN FRANCE

Interwoven as it is with the history of the Companies of the 308th Infantry, the story of the Medical Detachment of the Regiment can hardly be told as a connected narrative In those far-away Camp Upton days, we were all neatly packed together in that right-little (though scarcely tight-little) Infirmary on 4th Avenue; but almost from the day we marched off the Channel boat into the A.E.F. at Calais, we became more and more a Detachment of detachments, down to the last indivisible personal unit.

First, near Zutkerque, we fell apart into Battalion Detachments; next, in Lorraine, each Medical Officer took unto himself a little outfit of his own; and finally, on the Vesle, it became imperative to distribute at least half the men among the Companies., for first aid purposes., the rest remaining on duty in the various Aid Posts. Consequently, the "history" of the Medical Detachment is a thing of shreds and patches as inevitably as were its personnel during some of the exigencies of the service. And if it were not for the fact that in these latter days we can foregather occasionally, and tell each his own story, of what happened to him when he was with Co. A on the Vesle, Co. F in the Argonne, Co. M on the advance toward Grand pre, or perhaps in those sizzling Aid Posts at Les Pres Farm and Ville Savoye, hardly one of us would know that the rest of us had been through the war.

Yet it is curious to note how unifying the fact of an Infirmary or a Battalion Aid Post can be. To return to it after an absence is more than rejoining an organization--it is like returning to a familiar clubhouse. Perhaps this partly accounts for so many of the old crowd drifting back to us from hospitals, one by one, having had to fight to keep from being put on duty in some, Convalescent Camp or Base Hospital, or sent back to the States as casualties.

However that may be, 28 of the 48 enlisted men who came across on the "Cretic" are together again (scattered through nine towns of the Regimental area); but only one officer is left who was with us then--Capt.,Allie D. Morgan, who has not missed a day of duty since he was assigned to the Regiment March 4. 1918. Associated indissolubly with the Infirmary bond is the peculiarly intimate relation that may exist between a Medical Officer and the enlisted personnel under his command. It is primarily a military relation, but it becomes far more than that, after months of service side by side, provided officer and men have worked together in true cooperation. It will be among the unpriced souvenirs of the war for us of the Medical Detachment that some of our officers have been more like elder brothers to us than C.O.'s--this in an army organization, without detracting from discipline.

Since Sept. 9, 1917, when 17 enlisted men, commanded by Lt. Noss D. Brant, arrived at Camp Upton from the Medical Training Camp at Ft. Oglethorpe., Ga., and were assigned as the nucleus of the 308th Infantry Medical Detachment, the changes in personnel of both officers and men have been so many that it is impossible to mention any but the outstanding names. Even in the days before we took possession

of the Infirmary,, when we bunked in odd corners of barracks, and our medical supplies., housed in two cracker boxes, were carried into a company mess hall at sick-call time, even then Lt. Brant was Regimental Surgeon, and Lts. Edgar S. Everhart., Lawrence D. Floyd, and Stanley L. Freeman were his associates. (Lts. Everhart and Floyd, and Lts. John J. O'Donnell and Richard B. Whittaker, were transferred before the Regiment sailed, Lt. Beamon S. Cooley went to France but was gassed on the Vesle.)

. Those were weeks crowded full of preparation for us, as they were for the Companies. In December., when we had gained our full quota of officers and men, Capt. Brant (as he had become) was suddenly ordered to join a Red Cross Hospital unit with which he had long before affiliated himself, and although every effort was made to keep him, the nullifying order from Washington arrived too late. He had shown himself a tireless worker,, with large executive ability, and personally very likeable.

His successor was Capt. William J. Condon., who was with the Regiment from Jan. 4. 1918, without interruption until he was wounded on the Lorraine Front on July 14th. Capt. Condon held a special place in the regard of men who came to him with their physical troubles, for he was as considerate of them as if they had been his private patients. After arrival in France, he was best known in the lst Battalion, of which he became Surgeon, in addition to serving as Regimental Surgeon. He was with the lst; Battalion at Badonviller at the time of the initial barrage and raid, the morning of June 24th, and because it was impracticable to bring the wounded down to the town,, he went out to a position constantly exposed to enemy fire

in order to administer first aid, His coolness and indifference to personal danger at this time won him a citation in the first Division list of officers, and men commended for gallantry. Three weeks after the Badonviller episode, While on a round of visits to his Aid Posts, he encountered heavy shelling on the road between Pexonne and Badonviller . One shell burst at the entrance of a house where he had taken refuge and he sustained a compound fracture of the right leg.

The evacuation of Capt. Condon necessitated an immediate shifting of officers. Capt. James F. Wagner, who had been 3d Battalion Surgeon since May 25th, when Capt. Henry Pleasants left Mondicourt to become Division Sanitary Inspector, was appointed Regimental Surgeon. Lt. Walter G. Trow had been Surgeon of the 2d Battalion since the evacuation to hospital, from Warluzel, of Capt. Stanley L. Freeman, Lt. Trow was promoted to Captain in July and shortly afterward transferred as Surgeon of the 306th Infantry. During his nine months with the Regiment, he had gained the esteem and affection of all who knew him. Lt. Charles C. Rose had already joined us, in June, and Lt. Harry Feldman, in July.

Before we left the Baccarat Sector, Major Gerald G. Burns, Dental Surgeon, had taken charge of the Division Dental Laboratory., leaving his former associates, Capt, George A. Hewey and Lt. Harold J. Loomis, who remained with us until October. Capt. Hewey, who found it impracticable on the Vesle and in the Argonne to do much dental work., was often of the greatest assistance to the Regimental Surgeon. During one trip to investigate conditions in an Advanced Aid Post, he was with Lt. Feldman and Lt. Powless when the latter was fatally wounded.

Lt. Josiah A. Powless, who was proud of being a full-blooded Indian, joined us in the middle of August at Chery-Chartreuve. He made friends instantly among men and officers wherever he went, and would delightedly hail them from afar at each now meeting. His was a picturesque figure, with no heroic pretensions., yet when, on Oct. 14th, near Chevieres, word came that Capt. James M. McKibbin, while dressing the wounds of a line officer and sergeant, had been severely wounded, he left his Aid Post and hurried to the side of his colleague. On the return, after he had arranged for the evacuation of Capt. McKibbin (who had been with the Regiment but tan days), Lt. Powless himself was seriously wounded. Both died in Base Hospitals, Capt. McKibbin on Oct. 24th and Lt. Powless on Nov. 6th, and both were posthumously awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.

Our Detachment casualties on the Vesle had first brought us to a realization of how much the war was likely to change our personnel. From that Front, Lt. Gooley and six enlisted men--Weekley, Huttner, Shapiro, Chester, Mager, and DuBois--were all evacuated, gassed. Lester Umstot died in an ambulance Aug. 18th from a shell wound in the lung, received at Les Pres Farm when he was leading a sick man to the Battalion Aid Post. Capt. John A. Winstead, who had joined us three weeks before, was evacuated sick Aug, 27th, and on the same date Lt. William A. Lieser reported for duty. Lt. Lieser was wounded in the Argonne and died Oct. 4th in hospital, largely as the result of shock,

In the advance near Blanzy, on Sept. 5th, Lt. Carl F. Koenig was fatally wounded. His encouragement of the troops and his personal bravery had been of the greatest aid to Capt. Harrington, the 3d Battalion Commander. He was later cited in Division Orders, as was Sgt. Charles Matelusch of the Medical Detachment, who found the Surgeon lying in a shell crater, dressed his wounds under heavy enemy fire, and personally attended to his evacuation--by litter across an open field to the ambulance. At this time Stowie Fisher was capture following another Medical man, Benton Baker, to the American Prisoners Camp at Rastatt; and on Sept. 6th one of the officers whom we shall longest remember, Lt. (now Capt.) William McIlwain, reported for duty.

The Argonne Offensive, also, took a heavy toll of the enlisted personnel and officers of the Detachment. "Abie" Shapiro was killed instantly Sept. 29th on his first night after joining Co. H to give aid to the wounded, A day earlier, big Bill Baxter had been wounded and evacuated after a series of deeds on the Vesle and in the Argonne that won him the D.S.C. Otreba also was wounded on the 28th and Hinman on the 30th. On Oct. 5th, when his little first-aid shack was blown to bits by a shell, with two men killed and five wounded, Jack Gehris was among the latter. But he waited until he had cared for the others and arranged to get them to the Battalion Aid Post before bothering about himself. This and other work while with Co. F earned him the D.S.C. And Co. F men do not forget, either, the work of Staroselsky who is just plain "Starr" to most of us, and who is going to leave off the Russian ending himself when he gets back to his dear sweet Anna and his watch-making.

The third day of the famous pocket, "Seagoing". George Walker was wounded while with Co. G and lay for three days with some 50 holes in his back till he could be evacuated, Bragg (with Co. G) and "Baron" Sirota (with Co. D) were left effective in the pocket, and night and day they answered the agonized "First Aid'!" call, running through the woods to dress the wounded, besides enduring all the privations, dangers, and apprehensions of those critical six days. Both were sent to the hospital Oct. 8th, completely exhausted, and the "Baron" was finally reclassified unfit for duty. Since then, on the personal recommendation of Lt.-Col. Whittlesey, they have been awarded the D.S.C.

When the pocket was opened up, Saul Marshallcowitz, our own "Bozo," who had been with Co. H and had done much to Justify his oft-repeated claim that he was the "best worker from the bunch." was missing. The rumor was that he had been wounded and taken prisoner, and this was later confirmed. In the Argonne, Capt. William A. Morgan., Capt. August G. Hinrichs, Lt. Charles W. Sellers, and Lt. Clanton R. Athey were with us for comparatively short periods. Lt. Feldman, after three months of exacting duty at the front, went to the hospital sick at the end of October.

At Angecourt, our farthest point of advance on the last great drive, where we took care of men from at least five divisions besides our own., Capt. Wagner was notified of his promotion to Major. Great was the rejoicing that reward had arrived at last for his months of unflagging effort to overcome obstacles that to another might have looked insurmountable. That the net result was of incalculable value to the Regiment will be generally acknowledged; but only the other Medical Officers and those others who were close to him realize in how steady a hand he held the multitude of minute and confusing details of his work, how eager he was to be constantly in touch with every Aid Post, so far as practicable, and how instant was his re-sponse to every demand for a workable plan in a crisis.

Take, for instance, the problem presented when, 60 hours after the Argonne drive started, troops had advanced into the heart of the Forest and the farthest point that an ambulance could reach was the crossroads at La Harazee. Five kilometers up in that worse-than- jungle were wounded men urgently in need of evacuation. The men of the Band of the 308th Infantry were pressed into service as litter bearers, supplemented by men from the 306th and 307th Ambulance Companies and volunteer riflemen from our own Regiment, and for 36 hours the wounded were brought down by long litter carries, each trip requiring 12 hours. The stretcher bearers, some of them of slender physique and unprepared for the strain., often arrived at La Harazee faint and exhausted, but after a short rest they returned with empty litters, and carrying medical supplies. It was heroic work they did for us in those days. In the midst of French artillery, at the crossroads ambulance stand, and afterward up in the Forest, the YMCA and Knights of Columbus were thoroughly on the job with their cigarettes and chocolate for the wounded.

When the narrow gauge was opened up, and later when the road from Le Four-de-Paris became usable by day, the situation was relieved, But even then, if it had not been for the constant watchful-ness of the Regimental Surgeon, supplemented by the co-operative effort of the Ambulance Companies, and the faithful and courageous work of the S.S.U. drivers--who did such a magnificent job on four fronts., evacuating upward of 2,000 men for us--the Regiment's story would have been even more tragic.

The day the Companies were rescued from the pocket, the wounded were dressed by teams, each under a Medical Officer, who left the German hospital camp early in the morning; the ambulances came up to within a few yards of the point where the wounded had been collected; and all were evacuated by early afternoon. Major Wagner's carefully laid plans and energetic execution of measures to coordinate the first-aid work of the Detachment helped to bring us through the Vesle and the Argonne. He never spared himself nor considered his own convenience or safety at the Front., constantly endangering his life for the sake of assuring himself that all was going well; and through it all he remained confident, self-possessed, and ready, with the least easing of the strain., for a hearty laugh over some amusing incident of the day.

In one instance his bravery won him a Division Citation--when on Oct. 5th he faced machine-gun fire in the Argonne north of the Aid Post at L'Homme Mort to minister to a man who had been deserted by his bearers and lay bleeding to death 100 yards from the firing line. It is one of the ironies of fate that he should have come unscathed through service on four fronts and long afterward should have sustained injuries that necessitated his evacuation to a Base Hospital and severed his connection with the Regiment, On March 31., 1919., at Vire-en-Champagne, a government truck crashed into the ambulance in which he was riding (visiting units of the Regiment) and he sustained a fractured collar bone.

The 1st Battalion was happy when it saw Lt. Morgan don his Captain's bars, after the Armistice was signed, and the 2d Battalion equally rejoiced in Lt. McIlwain, promotion, in March, 1919. Just how much the men of the Regiment owe to Capt, Morgan, Capt. McIlwain, and Lt. Feldman (rejoined February), who were all with us during the storm, -and-stress period of the Regiment's existence; how much these officers are admired by those who know them; and with what particular affection they are regarded by the Medical Detachment personnel--all this can only be hinted at. Each of them was cited in Division orders for bravery,

Capt, Morgan, as Regimental Surgeon while Major Wagner was on duty at Camp Hospital #9 at Chateau-Villain., from Christmas, 1918, till the end of January., 1919., demonstrated his ability as an executive and greatly widened his circle of friends, After the Major was injured, he was again appointed Regimental Surgeon.

It would be unfair not to mention, also, for their faithful work certain officers who have been with us altogether or chiefly since the end of the war: Capt, Robert R. Cutler (Surgeon successively of 1st, 3d, and again 1st Battalion), Capt. Robert H. Lott, and Lt. Arthur H. Hauber, all M.C, Capt. Joseph J. Millard, D.C., and the following, now transferred: Lts. William P. Sammons, Alexander W. Fordyce, and Joseph Price, M.C., and Frank P. McCarthy, D.C.

If you ask a rifleman ten years from now whom he remembers best from the Medical Detachment, it would quite likely not be an officer., but some man who was with his company in a very tight place and gave him first aid, sandwiched between shellfire and machine-gun bullets, Perhaps he would recall Howard Tilton, who did such fine work with the 3d Battalion; or Phil Kiningstein, with Co. A; Ed Hughes, with to. B; Chester, for whom Co. E put in a citation; or DuBois, who came back after weeks in hospital and got a D,S.C. for continuing on duty for several days after he had been badly gassed near- Ville Savoye-- to mention only a few names at random, which it is hardly fair to do. As a group., these men who have been with the Companies constitute the strongest tie binding us to the rest of the Regiment.

If you ask a Battalion Surgeon who was of most aid to him at the Front. the answer is likely to be "my Sergeant." "Ernie" Meyer., with the lst Battalion., Jacque Fournier with the 2d, and "Charlie" Matelusch with the 3d--all of them with the outfit since the beginning--have seen veteran service in Aid Posts and in the open, the tried and trusted assistants of the officers under whom they worked, Fournier and Matelusch, and Conklin, also., were with the original group that came up from Oglethorpe to Upton in September, 1917. We do not forget how this group was broken when "Jimmie" Boynton, our Supply Sergeant back in camp, had to be left behind in the hospital suffering with an organic disease that prevented him from ever coning across, when his one big desire was to see service at the Front. And some of us remember "Sammy" Mintzer, who used to sit faithfully in the Infirmary pounding out memorandums day and night, and who got over here only to be reclassified and sent to duty far from the lines.

We are proud to recall that one member of the Detachment, William F. Lindorff, attained a commission. He attended the O.T.S. at Camp Upton., and while we were at Neuf--Maisons was made a Sergeant of Field Artillery, like other successful candidates. It was our good luck, that he was not immediately transferred, and he saw some lively service with Co. A on the :Vesle before his commission finally came through, He left us in September near Florent for further training at Saumur.

Of the men who have remained, Tilton, Hughes, KIningstein, and Henry Thompson have been Acting Sergeants at, various times, in Aid Posts and Infirmaries, They are four of the twelve who have never missed a day of duty since their arrival in France with the Detachment, April 21, 1918; the others., alphabetically listed., are Bishop., Conklin,, Hastedt., Jobes., Masters., McCurdy., Peterson., and Richking.

There are many stories that could and should be told that will circulate only as unwritten legends. Shall we ever forget the day, for instance, that we carried our entire medical combat equipment, besides our own packs, to the top of the chalk cliffs of Dover, and down again? Or the night the "Medical" held the line at Badonviller and Village Negre-the Infantry, both American and French, and even the ambulances, having all withdrawn? Or our flyer in ward management., when we undertook to run the transport hospital on the "Cretic.,11 under the eyes and nose of a Field Hospital outfit?

And while there are many men., too., who should be mentioned if space were not limited, there must be a word for the Medical Department replacements who came to buck up our depleted personnel and who so quickly fell in line for the job on hand-with a minimum of training but with all the good will and resolution in the world. One group of five B's--Bankroff, Berry, Bolsinger, Breckenridge, and Bunckley-- arrived fresh from the States the morning the 78th relieved us. With no previous experience in hiking, laden with the heaviest of full packs and soaked with rain., they marched that day from Lancon to Malassise Farm, back to Lancon, up through the Argonne to Chene Tondu and on to Abri du Crochet, slept that night in pup tents planted in mud'. and were as good as new the next morning. To them and to all the others who in the same spirit have contributed, each according.- to his ability., toward the sum total of the work that we came over- here to do, the Medical Detachment as, an organization owes unmeasured gratitude.

HISTORICAL SKETCH OF The MEDICAL DETACHMENT, 308th INFANTRY

(Compiled for the Records of the Division Surgeon

77th Division, A.E.F., as of Jan. 1, 1919)

The Medical Detachment of the 308th Infantry, like others in the77th Division, had its origin in a group of officers and enlisted men who, after a summer's training at the Medical Officers' Training Camp (Camp Greenleaf), Ft. Oglethorpe, Ga., arrived at Camp Upton Sept. 9., 1917, and shortly afterward were assigned to the Regiment, With Lt. Noss D. Brant, the Regimental Surgeon, were associated at first, Lts, Stanioy L. Freeman, Edgar S. Everhart, and Lawrence D. Floyd, and 17 men. Assignments from draft increments brought the enlisted strength up to the required 48, and from time to time new officers, medical and dental, were received.

In December, after Lt. Brant and Lt. Freeman had become Captains, the former was called to join a Red Cross Hospital Unit at Ft. McPherson, Ga. The order of transfer was finally rescinded from Washington, but his successor as Regimental Surgeon., Capt. William. J. Condon, had already been appointed. With Lt. (later Major) Everhart, Lt. (later Captain) John J. O'Donnell, and Lt. Richard B. Whittaker all transferred within the Division, and Lt. Floyd to the 152nd Depot Brigade, the personnel of officers at the time of leaving for foreign service was as follows: Medical--Capt. William J. Condon (Surgeon), Capt. Stanley L. Freeman, Capt. Henry Pleasants, Lt. Allie D. Morgan, Lt. Walter G. Trow, Lt. Carl F. Koenig, Lt. Beamon S. Gooley; Dental--- Major Gerald G. Burns., Lt. George A. Hewey., Lt. Harold J. Loomis.

Capt. Condon served as Transport Surgeon of t1ie !White Star liner "Cretic" (Transport #545), which sailed from New York April 6., 1918, touched at Halifax, and arrived at Liverpool the evening of April 19th. One Battalion of the 308th Infantry, the Machine Gun and Supply Companies, and the Medical Detachment were aboard the "Cretic," besides the 306t1n Field Hospital and other units. The Medical Detachment conducted the Transport Hospital, in which 44 cases were treated.

Beginning April 20th came the night journey to Dover, the Channel crossing, and a short sojourn in one of the "Rest" Camps at Calais. On April 25th, near Zutkerque, the Detachment was divided by Battalions, Capt. Condon becoming Surgeon of the 1st Battalion at Zutkerque,(as well as remaining Regimental Surgeon., Capt. Freeman being assigned to the 2d Battalion at Bayenghem, and Capt. Pleasants to the 3d at Hellebroucq.

In the area near the Arras Front, where the Regiment arrived the middle of May, the three Battalion Infirmaries were stationed at Sombrin, Warluzel, and La Bezique Farm (later Mondicourt). Shortly after arrival, Capt. Freeman was evacuated sick to hospital, from which he never returned. Lt. Trow succeeded to his post, and when Capt. (later Major) Pleasants was called to Division Headquarters to be Sanitary Inspector his place was filled (May 25th) by Capt. James F. Wagner of the 307th Field Hospital.

Upon arrival in the Baccarat Sector, June l9th, the 1st Battalion advanced to the line and took up its position in and near Badonviller It was here on the morning of June 24th that the Regiment had its first real baptism of shell-fire and gas. For his heroism at this time, when he left his Aid Post and went out to a position of extreme danger in order to dress the wounded, Capt. Condon was mentioned in the first list of Divisional citations. In this area, the units of the Detachment were at various times stationed in Berrichamps, Neuf Maisons, Ker Arvor., Pexonne, Three Pines, and Badonviller ; but no enemy activity over a period of five weeks equaled that of the initial barrage and raid.

During a round of visits to the various Aid Posts on the morning of July 14th, Capt. Condon was severely wounded by the bursting of a shell near Pexonne, sustaining a compound fracture of the right leg. Capt. Wagner, the 3d Battalion Surgeon, was immediately appointed his successor, Lt. Morgan taking charge of the 1st Battalion Detachment and Lt. Koenig of the 3d. About this time Major Burns (later Division Dental Surgeon) was transferred to the Division Dental Laboratory, and Lt. Trow, promoted to Captain, left to be Surgeon of the 306th infantry. Acquisitions in Lorraine were Lts. Harry Feldman and Charles C. Rose, and Capt. John A. Winstead, who joined during the march to Charmes to entrain.

Arrival on the Vesle Front the middle of August brought the Regiment face to face with conditions that made the assignment of two first-aid men to each Company in-the line imperative. While these men were the first to suffer, heroic work was done in Aid Posts such as those at Les Pres Farm and Ville Savoye constantly exposed to artillery fire. On Aug. 21st, the enemy scored a direct hit on the Regimental Headquarters at Chery-Chartreuve, where the Surgeon had his office, and Chartreuve Farm did not prove much move secure. For more than a week before it was moved to Chateau du Diable, near Fismes, the P.C. was at Sergy. During this Period, Lt. Cooley and Pvts. Weekley, Huttnor, Chester, Mager, DuBois, and Shapiro of the Detachment were all evacuated, gassed, and Capt. Winstead sick. Pvt.

Lester A. Umstot was wounded Aug. 18th at Las Pres Farm while leading a sick man to the Aid Post, and died in the ambulance. Before the Aisne was reached, Lts. William A. Lieser, William McIlwain, and Josiah A. Powless joined the staff of Medical Officers. On Sept. 5th Lt. Koenig, after rendering heroic assistance to the 3d Battalion commander in the advance toward the Aisne, Was mortally wounded near Blanzy-les-Fismes. Pvts. Baker and Fisher were dropped from the rolls as missing and eventually it became known that they had been captured. By the time the Division was relieved, on the night of Sept. 16th, the 3d Battalion, which had borne the brunt of the fighting in the Regimental Sector beyond the Vesle, had taken a position on the heights overlooking the Aisne north of Revillon.

A quick move by lorries to the neighborhood of Ste. Menehould, a long hike to Florent., and then the Detachment was again dispersed just prior to the great drive through the Argonne, beginning Sept. 26th.

The Regiment pushed its way through La Harazee and the Depot-des- Machines, in the heart of the Forest, and on to Binarville and Lancon, The problem of evacuation of the wounded from the Forest could only be met at first by long litter carries through winding trenches and the almost impenetrable tangle of undergrowth, to the ambulance stand at La Harazee crossroads.

This became necessary some 60 hours after the start of the drive, and lasted for a period of 36 hours. It took 12 hours to carry a man 5 kilometres over this difficult terrain. The litter bearers, men of the 308th infantry Band, who had never before been under such severe strain, and men from the 305th and 306th Ambulance Companies, often arrived at the cross-roads faint and exhausted, but returned at once with empty litters, and carrying medical supplies.

It is fitting here to pay tribute to the tireless and fearless work of the S.S.U. ambulance drivers who evacuated hundreds of men for this Regiment from the Argonne and also in Lorraine and on the Vesle. At Ville Savoye one ambulance after another was wrecked in attempting to carry out the wounded over a road in full view of the enemy and shattered by shellfire.

When it became possible, the wounded were sent down to La Harazee on a narrow-gauge railroad, which was also used to carry upstretcher, blankets, and splints. Soon afterward, the road from Le Four-de-Paris was opened for ambulances; but at night the narrow gauge continued to be used. Before the Regiment had reached Lancon, the Detachment had lost Lt. Lieser, wounded (died Oct. 4); Lt. Rose, sick; Pvts. Baxter, Otreba, Hinman, and Gehris, wounded. Pvts. Sirota and Bragg were taken out of the famous "Pocket" completely exhausted by the ordeal, and evacuated, as was Pvt. Walker, wounded. Pvt. Marshallcowitz had been wounded and taken prisoner.

Capt. James M. McKibbin and Capt. August G. Hinrichs, both M.C., joined the Regiment while in the forest; Lt. Loomis, D.C., was transferred to the 304th Machine Gun Battalion, and Lt. Prank P. McCarthy arrived in his place, On Oct. 14th, on the advance toward Grandpre, near Chevieres, Capt. McKibbin and Lt. Powless were both wounded severely, the former in going to the aid of a line officer, and the latter in exposing himself in order to dress Capt. McKibbin's wounds.

Both died in Base Hospitals. Other changes in personnel occurred before the end of October. Capt. William A. Morgan had come, and had gone to be Surgeon of the 306th Machine Gun Battalion; Lts. Charles, Sellers, Clanton R. Athey, Arthur H. Hauber, and William P. Sammons had joined the Detachment; and Capt. Hinrichs and Lt. Feldman were evacuated, sick. Early in November Capt. Hewey was transferred to the Sanitary Train, and Lt. Athey was incapacitated through an accidental injury,

When the Division was relieved by the 78th on Oct. 16th, the 308th Infantry returned through Lancon to Abri du Crochet in the Argonne, later moving to Le Chene Tondu, and finally to Pylone, from which they advanced in the last great drive on Nov, 2d, In the Regiment's farthest point of advance, at Angecourt, Capt. Wagner received word of his promotion to Major; and after the Armistice had been signed, on the hike toward Chateau-Villa-in, Lt. Morgan donned his Captain's bars. Lt. Alexander W. Fordyce joined the organization during this march.

Upon arrival in the 9th Training Area, Dee, 4th, the Detachment, like the Regiment, was scattered through 7 towns: Orges, Pont-la-Ville, Essey-les-Ponts, Cirfontaines, Braux, Vaudremont, and Aizanville. Capt. Robert R. Cutler, M.C., and Lt. (later Capt.) Joseph J. Millard, D.C., were assigned during this period. Major Wagner, who had been Regimental Surgeon for more than 6 months and had been identified with the Regiment for 8 months, was lost temporarily by transfer to the 302d Sanitary Train, for duty with Camp Hospital #9. Capt. Allie D. Morgan was appointed Surgeon in his place. Capt. Morgan is the only officer with the Medical Detachment who came to France with it, and he had not, to date of writing, been absent from duty one day.

Although there have been altogether fully 40 officers identified with the organization, there have bean only a few non-commissioned officers. Sgt. Boynton, who came from Ft. Oglethorpe with the original group of volunteers, was evacuated sick to hospital just before the regiment left Camp Upton. Sgts. Matelusch, Fournier., and Conklin (also of the original group) were still with the Detachment at the close of 1918, as was Sgt. Meyer, who received his warrant at Baccarat.

One enlisted man of the Detachment attained a commission. Pvt. William F. Lindorff attended the 0,T.S. at Camp Upton, but, like other successful candidates, did not receive his commission as 2d Lt., Field Artillery, until after arrival in Europe. His commission dated from July 12, 1918, and he left Sept. 23d to attend Saumur Artillery School, having-meanwhile had lively experience in Lorraine and on the Vesle as first-aid man (though officially an artillery sergeant) with Co. A, of this Regiment.

At times during hostilities it appeared as if the Detachment were made up largely of replacements, but many of the old members have come back from hospitals, so that 28 of the original 48 who crossed on the "Cretic" are together again.

Battle casualties of the 308th Infantry (including a few not evacuated to hospital) include: slightly wounded, 544; severely wounded, 548; slightly gassed, 617; severely gassed 19; wounded (degree undetermined), 139; gassed (degree undetermined), 45, The total number killed in action was 317, and 24 died of wounds

(Written at Zutkerque, PaS de Calais "Flanders")

May 3, 1918

A great deal has happened, but I shall have to mind my P's and Q's and necessarily leave out a lot that would be of interest.

I have taken it for granted that the cards left- at the pier when we sailed were mailed from there as soon as word of our safe arrival had been cabled. It seemed best to wait until we were more certain of postal arrangements before writing. This letter goes directly through the Base Censor and should reach you more promptly for that reason. We are allowed one such letter a week--or envelope in which several letters may be enclosed.

We left camp with work well cleared up, but it took a tremendous push at the end to do so. During the voyage we ran a small hospital and had charge of sanitary conditions. This necessitated my being below decks a good deal., but I used to get in a constitutional once in a while, and the trip as a whole was an interesting experience,

After a journey in several stages, we have landed for a temporary stay at a place some twenty-five miles from the trenches. Our Surgeon's office and dispensary are in different quarters, but we manage very well. The officers are billeted in the village houses and the men in barns. The one we are fortunate to have is reasonably tight and perfectly clean. We have plenty of fresh straw as foundation for our blankets. I tried a burlap covered cot the first night, but was glad to descend to a humbler level before morning, for the sake of warmth. These quarters are a paradise compared to those assigned to us the first night in this area. Some of us look one look at that place and decided to pitch our "pup" tents outside , where we slept on a grassy lawn, under a clear sky, with the big guns booming in the distance.

Then came another billet, ideal in some ways, but our equipment could not well be housed there, so we moved down to the nearest village. We have a comfortable little stove in our office, fitting into a six-foot-wide fireplace. Tables and chairs there were none, to begin with., but we scouted around and rigged up desks out of odd window shutters, cupboard shelves., etc., and mine could pass as a piece of medieval Flemish handiwork. We did a lot of work in this little room before our typewriter was taken away to Regimental Headquarters. We borrowed it before leaving camp when suddenly deprived of the one furnished by the Medical Supply Depot. I don't see how we could have managed or the boat without something of the sort, We supposed that "paperwork" would be cut down on this side, but it looks now as if it would be increased. The Captain says it will have to go on as best it can, even in the trenches, In the matter of medical records and reports, as in many other things, we are becoming familiar with British methods.

I suppose you will all want to know how I have fared as regards food. At- present we have a good generous ration .--cereals, the best of meat, bread, butter, cheese., and plenty of jam, and Dundee marmalade. And we all have hearty appetites. On the boat I was much better fixed than most of the men, who were glad enough to get land rations again. Together with one other medical first sergeant., and the line top sergeants., I ate in the first-class mess, and feasted on the same food as the officers. The menu was everything one could ask for, the equal of a good hotel's cuisine in wartime.

We have Plenty of fun on the side. I persist in adventures with the French language, and mean to work up my vocabulary every chance I get. One or two fellows in the Detachment speak a Canadian-French lingo fluently and get along well with the inhabitants. I am not too proud to make blunders. There is a larger town about a mile and a half from here. (Audiuicq) It contains many oddly assorted shops, curious old winding streets, and some pretensions in the way of a church and a town hall. I have been down twice and explored. This is good fun in congenial company, even when the crowd ridicules your efforts to make the residents understand. The French themselves are without exception polite. You can murder the language and they will not raise an eyebrow.

Yesterday, with the pressure of work relieved, and pretty thoroughly in need of a good cleanup, several of us went down to the British baths half a mile from here, and had a regular Roman afternoon,- first a steam bath, then a warm shower, then a cold one, and a good rub-down, It was a luxurious sensation to be scrubbed once more. Afterward we walked on down to the town, and finished up, when it was too late to get back for mess, by investigating, the Salvation Army canteen, where we had superfine fried eggs, French Fried potatoes, bread and butter, and cocoa,--all for about 23 cents in our money.

It is certainly not summer weather here yet, and the sun doesn't come out every day, by any means, but from all we hear, conditions are much more comfortable than they were a few months ago. The houses that are in good condition (and some of those in the country are very carefully kept up) may be all right in cold weather. There are farm-houses near here that ought to be the setting for a play or an opera,

It seems sometimes as if we had been set down on the stage in the middle of the second act, with the audience all but visible. The typical group is a house, a barn, and smaller buildings around what is a combination of court-yard and barnyard. In the best of these places the plaster walls are carefully calcimined, the tile roofs are covered with freshly thatched straw, and the interiors are spick and span to the last degree. Adjoining is usually a small apple orchard, in bloom just now. The ground beneath the trees is covered with thick turf and the property screened from the road by high hedges. I don't know that all this detail will be of interest. The doll's village lay-cut, however, is in such contrast to what is going on within comparatively few miles and so different from what we shall probably be mixed up in before long, that I put it down while fresh in mind.

In future I hope to get off at least one letter a week, but you must remember that there will be a flood of mail going each way and this will mean delays and possible loss of letters. So don't expect to hear. from me regularly,, So far I have not had any letters from home, but am trying to wait patiently. Except for bulletins, rumors and an occasional four-page English paper, we know nothing about what has been going on, for the last month.

(Written at Sombrin, Pas de Calais)

May 16,1918

Yesterday came a magnificent batch of mail-- the first we have received since leaving the other side. Nine letters for me, most of them forwarded from camp, to be sure,, and dated at least a month ago, but every one welcome.

The "Somewhere in France" on my letters is by no means static, but of course I can only let you read between the lines in saying that within the last week we had about forty-eight hours notice to pack up all our equipment, lightening the load as much as possible. Then came a long slow railroad journey, with a long and rather exacting hike at the end of it, begun on detraining about 1 A.M. But here we are, satisfactorily billeted after one false start and provided with an infirmary. We are having the finest Spring weather much drier and clearer than in our former location, and it is altogether more cheerful.

Our experience of active warfare is so far pretty well confined to air raids--one of which was a corker, although technically "unsuccessful." A battle in the air is so thrilling when observed from below that one forgets to be much scared. For a long time we were without maps. Finally a big official British map of the region, fitted out with adjustable pins and thread, was put up at a crossroads and we used to stand there and listen to tales of Britishers who had known the real thing at places now famous. I have since secured two naps for myself.

I wish you all could see us togged out ready for a march, all our duds upon us, except numerous personal- belongings which we had to pack in our barrack bags and leave behind. Undoubtedly the infantry pack, with gun, entrenching tools, and ammunition, is considerably heavier than ours, and it looks as if it would be harder to carry. It resembles the Indian arrangement for carrying a papoose, all the weight pulling on shoulder straps. In contrast, we carry, besides the medical belt (fitted out with first, aid articles and having a hatchet, a canteen., and an extra pouch dangling from it., a bag that I understand is the old cavalry ration-bag. It has several compartments for rations, mass-tin, toilet articles, and anything under the sun that you can crowd into it. This is strapped over the shoulders and the belt attached to it. Then there is a blanket roll, flexible as to size and contents, which is made up in the shape of a horseshoe and slung diagonally across the shoulder. (or fastened flat to the ration-bag, as regulations may require). The advantage of carrying the roll separately is that it can be shifted about., and, during a rest, dropped off entirely. The metal helmet and gas mask and extra pair of shoes are arranged as cleverly as one can devise, for permanence, beauty., and comfort., Put this pack over an overcoat, and perhaps a sweater, which comes- in handy enough on a night train ride, and you feel like a great old war-horse, with sympathy for a medieval knight in armor.

After a little extra sleep, some good coffee, and a bath--we have hot showers directly across from our billets - we picked up in no time from what even the infantry, hardened as they are to marches (compared to us "pill-pushers) considered a pretty strenuous hike. You can be sure that I feel very well indeed, have plenty of good food to eat, and sleep like a log. I only hope that everything,- is going all right at home.

(Written at Sombrin, Pas do Calais)

May 28, 1918

I am embarking on what I hope may be a good bulky letter.

So many have come from the other side, and they are appreciated as I never appreciated letters before; but it has been impossible lately to sit down and write individual answers, though I had hoped to do it. Here it is the time when everybody is supposed to be off the streets except the guards (9:30 P.M. ) and one last man comes in to have his arm bandaged, My roommate is in the infirmary is taking care of him. Our shelter-halves are up at the two windows to shut out (or in) the light of our candles, because even a small light will serve as a target for an enemy airplane.

The raids occasionally shorten a night's sleep, but that is a small matter. It is strange how variously they affect different people, To me, there is a kind of fascination in looking up into the sky and, even on the clearest nights, seeing nothing, but hearing the motor grow louder and louder until it seems to be directly overhead. Opinions differ as to whether it is safer to go outside or stay in during a raid, My instinct takes me outside of walls that might tumble. On many a night, though., we sleep undisturbed; sometimes I find that a fairly distant bombardment which has kept a good many awake has only colored my dreams.

My best help in the office, our stenographer has had to go to the hospital with a persistent bronchitis. Consequently I have been having a pretty lively time with the usual round of reports, etc. The lack of a typewriter mean-- that one becomes an indefatigable (and indelible) pencil pusher. I did get the loan of a machine at Battalion Headquarters for a few hours to make out my May pay roll, but only the sergeant major could silence the angry buzz of clerks who all wanted to use it at the same time.

I could tell you a great marry things that we have not, that we seem to get along fairly well without, although some of the boys naturally become rather restless at times. There are no Y.M.C.A.'s here-abouts or supplies of reading matter--except the one-day-old Paris or London paper, the latter costing five cents sometimes for two pages. But it is not convenient to tote a library on one's back, and I don't have any time for lying around. I do get out for a walk occasionally, and on practice hikes. We have reached the point where we can pack up our office, dispensary, and personal equipment within a couple of hours if necessary --and know where everything is, too.

To transport our medical chests and for errands to near-by towns where some of the units of the regiment are stationed, we have a high two-wheeled cart, drawn by a mule who has his own ideas about being attached (so to speak) to the Medical Department. On various occasions he has tried to sit, kneel, and spin on his hind legs with a view to a freer life. The driver (a Supply Company man) brought around a slip the other day, when starting out to carry a load of stretchers, and requested that the time of start and return be noted down and signed for. He remarked bitterly that the Transport officer, his "boss," must think he would otherwise start on a joy ride!

The Britishers in this area have had hard work to decipher us. The more polite have taken it for granted that our list-to-starboard caps indicated that we belonged to the American Aviation Corps, but some Of the very un-Anglo-Saxon types have led others to inquire whether we were Portuguese troops!

For an hour each day (half morning and half afternoon) we are required to go about our affairs wearing gas masks, for practice. One man went off his horse and another off his bicycle today while operating under artificial air-supply, but those were the only casualties, At first-the natives were afraid a gas attack was anticipated. Now we get only hoots. Speaking of "hoots." which is peculiarly Scotch, I find that the wearing of bare knees is not, confined to the Highlanders. The British "shorts" that the hot weather brings out are like running trunks, reaching to just above the knee. Spiral puttees or long stockings cover the lower leg. How juvenile we should feel in such a rig.' However, feelings about appearance got hardened once one has decorated himself with a "tin Lizzie," The unregenerate name for a steel helmet, and has met the criticisms of comrades-in-arms. One must have a particular architectural build to carry off such a basilica dome of a bonnet. I seem to be saying a lot about what we wear. We ourselves are becoming well used to the same clothes, since with the prospect of sudden alarums and excursions, and for the sake of warmth, we stay considerably dressed up at night,

At each new landing-place, so far, I have found it easy, and very cheap, to get washing done. That is the only expense that does not mount high, if one bothers about purchases at all. I bought a rubber wash basin in a near-by town for three dollars, and was Happy to get it at that. Chocolate is one thing that we often do empty out our loose change for, provided we can find any that is edible.

Of course it is reasonable to expect to pay well in this region. I hear the guard advising two lieutenants next door to snuff their candles, and I expect he will catch a glimmer in here soon--so good-night.

(Written at Girecourt, Yieurthe-et.-Moselle)

June 15, 1918

It bothers me whenever I think of the gaps between my outgoing letters. Perhaps I shall descend to using the little printed British post cards., on which you simply scratch off whatever does not apply to yourself at the moment. We have moved around a good deal, and of course that always means delay on mail, both ways. Since I last wrote we have come a week1s journey by hiking and train to a very different part of France. Before entraining we marched over forty miles, and we were on the train, which part of the time necessarily went very slow, for over two days,

Six of us were so lucky as to have a 3d Class compartment assigned to us, instead of the customary boxcar. This was infinitely more comfortable., and it gave us a chance to see some of the finest of country., especially a stretch along the Seine, at various places we stopped long enough for coffee to be passed out, and once long enough to permit a dash into the middle of a good-sized and attractive town, (This was Yelun. We returned to the train laden with big loaves of crusty bread, and with sardines, sweet chocolate and other commodities calculated to relieve the travel rations of hardtack., bully-beef,, and jam. We rigged up a stove on the floor of the car by piling up tins, and using candles as fuel we heated the "meat and vegetable ration" which when cold is almost inedible.

At night four slept on the two long opposite seats, while the two others, including myself, made our shelter-halves into hammocks and swung all night from the baggage racks. The next morning we were ready to wager that we had slept more comfortably than anyone else on the train. After detraining (at Thaon, Vosges, on the Moselle) came another hike, over a high plateau, with hills in the distance--a region characterized by clear mountain streams frequent patches of woodland, fine farms, and some of the most picturesque villages, I suppose, in France. Apparently the people have been enough isolated to remain very individual, Certainly the architecture is of its own kind. Everything is well kept up--and the people seem to be much more concerned about the appearance of their places, and generally of a higher type, than in the area we came from.

The last night before we arrived in what is for the time being our location., a temporary rest camp, we pitched our tents in a field. An old lady from the adjoining house came by and, perhaps attracted by the Red Cross brassards on our arms and by, the fact that there were only a few in our particular crowd, she showed us an apronful of eggs. That was all the invitation we needed. We proceeded to make arrangements with her daughter for supper, and breakfast also. Both these meals turned out to be all that we could have asked, To be sure the ladies laughed at requests for strawberries and cereal, but we decided that new-laid eggs, French fried potatoes, French toast, coffee and milk and our own marmalade, made up a feast fit for Louis XVI and his court,

We are now encamped in a handsome private park. There are fine great trees and a stream that we had waited for a week as we pushed the kilos under our feet, The water is deep enough for a good bath, though not for diving. There are also plenty of natural wash-boards--so what more could a soldier ask? Across from us is a rambling old chateau, belonging to a noble French family now adjourned to Paris. I had a chance to go through it this morning. It is full of handsome furniture, tapestries, and fittings.

A reaction sets in after one has been marching day after day, and temporarily one has to give up to it and sleep off the fatigue, In one period of thirty hours, including a night's sleep, we did twenty-two miles, which is considerable if one has not become inured to a pack--at any rate under a blazing sun, But I have never had to drop out yet, and some days I have enjoyed it thoroughly.

I wonder if these odds and ends I put into letters sound trivial, or are they expected? We are naturally interested ourselves in the details and small experiences of a new kind of life, As for the reason that "eats" get mentioned so frequently, it must be because a full soldier is generally a contented one. In general, I know it is worth the world to many of us who have always been rather cooped-up and city-civilized to live so much outdoors, with military discipline to counteract the tendency toward complete gypsyism. Now that we are in an essentially American area, everybody seems to be better satisfied, and with good reason.

As soon as the matter can be pushed through, I hope to have a copy of the "Stars and Stripes." the official paper of the American forces (and, I hear, a mighty good one), going home regularly. It will be a reminder at least, and I believe it should contain much news, etc., that will be of interest, I can subscribe for only one,, and only one-third of each organization can subscribe. Otherwise I would send several.

There is a plan, which I have heard about vaguely, to allow soldiers to send short cable messages home., say once a week, at very low rates, enough to give reassurance. We may be able to do this later., and if so I shall take advantage of every chance, unless you would be alarmed by the envelope.

(Written at Pexonne and Bertrichamps, Meurthe-et-Moselle)

June 29, 1918

It was a truly handsome bundle of mail that I got yesterday, after about two weeks wait. Another big batch came to us when we were having a breathing spell of four days in the midst of a change of station. My impression and hope is that I did send off a letter two weeks ago, but I am not sure, There was certainly no time avail-able before and has been none since. The six letters that came yesterday were postmarked between May 30th and June 8th. But this is how things happen in the army: before I could finish reading them came the order, "Get ready to leave at once." We have reached the point where we almost yawn when that sort of performance is required. It happens often. By the light of a candle or an oil lantern we can dismantle our infirmary and have everything nailed., locked, tied, and screwed down ready for transportation in two or three hours. But it takes concentration., especially if one expects a bombardment presently, with a possible gas attack.

We had our first real taste of high explosive and gas shells rather recently, but the "Medical" were provided with a good dug-out--a deep cellar under the building where our equipment had been dumped. In this cellar we slept every night for a week on fine box-spring beds that had been left by some other outfit, and had probably come originally from the fine houses that got pretty well smashed up in the early part of the war. We see very little of aeroplanes lately. (The town here referred to was Badonviller-.unlike Rambervillers, this name apparently does not end in "s.")

I hope I shall remember some of the incidents connected with each place we stop at, when it comes time to trace back our wanderings on the map. At the moment, I am sitting at a school-teacher's desk in a room lined with maps and blackboards, and on the-book-shelves I find "Gulliver's Travels" (in French) and other juvenile classics. Outside is one of the village street fountains that are so common, around the corner is a church possessing chimes and a curious bulbous tower, and near by is stationed an American Field Hospital and Ambulance organization, The streets are full of French and American soldiers. (This was Pexonne.)

(Interim here of a night's march)

By now we are sufficiently used to the hiking to travel as light as possible, but one's physical condition at the time makes all the difference in the world. Last night., for instance (this is now June 30)., 1 was glad enough of a chance to put ray blanket roll on a G.S. (General Supply) wagon. I know what it means to almost fall asleep while keeping on the go; in fact the regular rhythmic marching step has much the effect of a rocking cradle. Twice during ten-minute halts I had to jump up out of a nap., but that was because the day before had been rather strenuous, and we had slept on the boards of a floor the preceding night, upstairs in the schoolhouse,

One hike I don't expect ever to forget; that was nine or ten nights ago. We had been' on the outskirts of a large town for a day, and I had been roaming around like everybody else who could get off, visiting the Y.M.C.A. and shops and ferreting out an old castle and other curious places. About 9 P.M. we started, with the prospect of getting considerably closer to the front before morning. A heavy shower wet us thoroughly soon after we got beyond the town, and we marched along a dark road with communicating files between units, We followed a valley (the Meurthe, from Baccarat) for a few miles and then turned to our left through deep woods. For several miles more the road climbed steadily and it remained fairly good till we had passed the crest and dropped down suddenly into a village (Neuf -Maisons). Then we struck off into a poorer road that rapidly degenerated. The night had become so black that one could not see the man ahead of him--could only follow by hanging to his coat tails. Halting every few seconds, stumbling (and grumbling), we straggled along in as little semblance of a marching column as could be imagined. Yet each of us knew that to drop out would mean that he, and all those behind him, would be lost, temporarily at least. (There are no ambulances solicitously chugging in our wake any more,) As it was, we were pretty sure the whole outfit must be lost. We knew that the line was not far away and that we were taking this round about course to avoid a road that Jerry liked to shell, and also we expected a gas alarm at any minute. The Division we were relieving (this was the 42nd) had been gassed the night before.

Just when there seemed to be no trace of a road or path left, small lights suddenly appeared through the trees. They proved to be candles just lighted in some large board shacks, where the men Who had headed our column were getting ready to turn in. It was only a few minutes-till we had threaded a maze of duckboard walks and been assigned to our own particular shack in this rest camp in the woods (Camp-Ker-Arvor). We had done eleven or twelve miles in six hours. It was 3 A.M. then, and it was 1 P.M. the next day when I woke up!

Now, with our little experience of the trenches behind us, we are inclined to feel like veterans, although the "Medical," being non-combatant, doesn't get the worst of it. I have seen what a front-line trench looks like a few hours after a barrage and a raid and cannot honestly be sorry that we are not likely to be exposed to that sort of mix-up. I would rather run the chances of ambulance work than to endure the trench existence, And yet it is fine to see what a spirit is shown, for the most part, in the Infantry, among these drafted men. Most of the first sergeants and a few other non-coms and privates were in the army before last September, but not many.

The first sentence in the above paragraph would have been worded very differently, later; but it will have to stand. Recalling the Badonviller raid. Captain Miles wrote in his History: "The one figure which most strikingly dominated the whole strange scene was that of Captain Condon, Hatless, his sleeves rolled up, and his arms red to the elbows, he worked feverishly to save the life of every man in whom any life was left." (See also 77th Division Citations.) Well, here we have come "back," for at least a week, I suppose, to a village (Bertrichaas) which we touched on our march into the line. We shall have a chance to get rested and washed, and caught up on our letters, It is a fine place for the purpose. There are plenty of clean barns for billets, so closely connected with the houses that the residents can walk out of their second-floor rooms into the hay- mow. There is also plenty of water. It comes rushing down from the hills and flows constantly into big troughs where the townsfolk take what they want and waste the rest. At a big town down the valley (Baccarat) we can got real hot-water baths at the end of a two-mile walk. We are also promised a new issue of clothing.

The scenery of the region is as pretty as one could ask for. It reminds me a good deal of the Highlands of the Hudson. The civilians (mostly women, of course) have been coming from church this morning, looking surprisingly well dressed. There are a number of children, all togged out in their best. It is odd to hear the French speak of them as "pickanins" --that represents their pronunciation of the word,

Lately we have had no hot weather at all, and we had forgotten how uncomfortable it could be till a little extra warmth brought swarms of big vicious flies; this in the trenches.

I am much obliged for all the offers of things to be sent, but I don't know what to ask for, unless perhaps an occasional magazine that I would feel free to read and leave behind for others, The ships coming over have to be saved for necessary supplies, and as a matter of fact whenever as now we get nearer the shops and the "Y.M." we can use a little of the money that usually hangs heavy in our pockets--for such luxuries as chocolate, crackers, oranges, eggs, etc.

(Written at- Neuf-Maisons.,Meurthe-et-Moselle)

July 25, 1918

Everything has been going well, and quietly, since my last letter. We have a new Regimental Surgeon who in many ways is a good deal like Captain B (Brant) whom I had back in camp. Captain W (Wagner) is a very likeable man, knows exactly what needs to be done, and has a fine executive grasp. We are getting things down to a good system, which has really been impossible before, for various reasons. Set up, as we are now in an office separate from the Battalion infirmaries, we can work to much better advantage.

You need have no fears about my being overworked. As soon as the chance comes to ease up I shall do so. I picked up a paper -covered volume of Howells several weeks ago. Some of these days I shall make a start at it.

The excitement of this evening has been the opening of a new Salvation Army place in town--very attractively decorated with flags, etc., and boasting an orchestra. A canteen, where fresh home-made cookies and doughnuts are sold, draws a crowd ten deep. Two Salvation Army girls, very trim in their olive-drab semi-military suits., help to run the place., which is evidently going to vie with the Y.M.C.A. in popularity.

These two girls, we learned later, saw some very active service with the Division that relieved us, accompanying it from the area. They were sisters and Mt. Holyoke graduates.

We had one real entertainment several days ago. Elsie Janis, who has done more than her part to cheer up American soldiers all through France, came our way for about half an hour one noon. She told some good, fresh, funny stories, sang us some new songs, and did some very lively dancing on an outdoor stage. Altogether she provided the biggest chunk of good fun that we have had since we got to this side.

I thought when I got ready to compile a list of articles not to be had (so far as we could see) in France, and not weighing more than a total of seven pounds, I should head it with a box of real American candy. But this afternoon a good friend of mine in the commissary called me into his sanctum. He had set aside for me (they were not yet on sale) a tin can of McAlpin's Chocolates, direct from the McAlpin Hotel kitchens in New York. So the list of what I want and can't get here may grow smaller and smaller if I give it time. Of course what we all crave most are the homely, homemade, home-grown things that all the paper money in France couldn't buy (except for the S.A. offerings mentioned). But were not pining away by any means, so don't let these remarks worry you.

(Written at Girecourt, Yieurthe-et.-Moselle)

June 15, 1918

It bothers me whenever I think of the gaps between my outgoing letters. Perhaps I shall descend to using the little printed British post cards., on which you simply scratch off whatever does not apply to yourself at the moment. We have moved around a good deal, and of course that always means delay on mail, both ways. Since I last wrote we have come a week1s journey by hiking and train to a very different part of France. Before entraining we marched over forty miles, and we were on the train, which part of the time necessarily went very slow, for over two days,

Six of us were so lucky as to have a 3d Class compartment assigned to us, instead of the customary boxcar. This was infinitely more comfortable., and it gave us a chance to see some of the finest of country., especially a stretch along the Seine, at various places we stopped long enough for coffee to be passed out, and once long enough to permit a dash into the middle of a good-sized and attractive town, (This was Yelun. We returned to the train laden with big loaves of crusty bread, and with sardines, sweet chocolate and other commodities calculated to relieve the travel rations of hardtack., bully-beef,, and jam. We rigged up a stove on the floor of the car by piling up tins, and using candles as fuel we heated the "meat and vegetable ration" which when cold is almost inedible.

At night four slept on the two long opposite seats, while the two others, including myself, made our shelter-halves into hammocks and swung all night from the baggage racks. The next morning we were ready to wager that we had slept more comfortably than anyone else on the train. After detraining (at Thaon, Vosges, on the Moselle) came another hike, over a high plateau, with hills in the distance--a region characterized by clear mountain streams frequent patches of woodland, fine farms, and some of the most picturesque villages, I suppose, in France. Apparently the people have been enough isolated to remain very individual, Certainly the architecture is of its own kind. Everything is well kept up--and the people seem to be much more concerned about the appearance of their places, and generally of a higher type, than in the area we came from.

The last night before we arrived in what is for the time being our location., a temporary rest camp, we pitched our tents in a field. An old lady from the adjoining house came by and, perhaps attracted by the Red Cross brassards on our arms and by, the fact that there were only a few in our particular crowd, she showed us an apronful of eggs. That was all the invitation we needed. We proceeded to make arrangements with her daughter for supper, and breakfast also. Both these meals turned out to be all that we could have asked, To be sure the ladies laughed at requests for strawberries and cereal, but we decided that new-laid eggs, French fried potatoes, French toast, coffee and milk and our own marmalade, made up a feast fit for Louis XVI and his court,

We are now encamped in a handsome private park. There are fine great trees and a stream that we had waited for a week as we pushed the kilos under our feet, The water is deep enough for a good bath, though not for diving. There are also plenty of natural wash-boards--so what more could a soldier ask? Across from us is a rambling old chateau, belonging to a noble French family now adjourned to Paris. I had a chance to go through it this morning. It is full of handsome furniture, tapestries, and fittings.

A reaction sets in after one has been marching day after day, and temporarily one has to give up to it and sleep off the fatigue, In one period of thirty hours, including a night's sleep, we did twenty-two miles, which is considerable if one has not become inured to a pack--at any rate under a blazing sun, But I have never had to drop out yet, and some days I have enjoyed it thoroughly.

I wonder if these odds and ends I put into letters sound trivial, or are they expected? We are naturally interested ourselves in the details and small experiences of a new kind of life, As for the reason that "eats" get mentioned so frequently, it must be because a full soldier is generally a contented one. In general, I know it is worth the world to many of us who have always been rather cooped-up and city-civilized to live so much outdoors, with military discipline to counteract the tendency toward complete gypsyism. Now that we are in an essentially American area, everybody seems to be better satisfied, and with good reason.

As soon as the matter can be pushed through, I hope to have a copy of the "Stars and Stripes." the official paper of the American forces (and, I hear, a mighty good one), going home regularly. It will be a reminder at least, and I believe it should contain much news, etc., that will be of interest, I can subscribe for only one,, and only one-third of each organization can subscribe. Otherwise I would send several.

There is a plan, which I have heard about vaguely, to allow soldiers to send short cable messages home., say once a week, at very low rates, enough to give reassurance. We may be able to do this later., and if so I shall take advantage of every chance, unless you would be alarmed by the envelope.

(Written at Pexonne and Bertrichamps, Meurthe-et-Moselle)

June 29, 1918

It was a truly handsome bundle of mail that I got yesterday, after about two weeks wait. Another big batch came to us when we were having a breathing spell of four days in the midst of a change of station. My impression and hope is that I did send off a letter two weeks ago, but I am not sure, There was certainly no time avail-able before and has been none since. The six letters that came yesterday were postmarked between May 30th and June 8th. But this is how things happen in the army: before I could finish reading them came the order, "Get ready to leave at once." We have reached the point where we almost yawn when that sort of performance is required. It happens often. By the light of a candle or an oil lantern we can dismantle our infirmary and have everything nailed., locked, tied, and screwed down ready for transportation in two or three hours. But it takes concentration., especially if one expects a bombardment presently, with a possible gas attack.

We had our first real taste of high explosive and gas shells rather recently, but the "Medical" were provided with a good dug-out--a deep cellar under the building where our equipment had been dumped. In this cellar we slept every night for a week on fine box-spring beds that had been left by some other outfit, and had probably come originally from the fine houses that got pretty well smashed up in the early part of the war. We see very little of aeroplanes lately. (The town here referred to was Badonviller-.unlike Rambervillers, this name apparently does not end in "s.")

I hope I shall remember some of the incidents connected with each place we stop at, when it comes time to trace back our wanderings on the map. At the moment, I am sitting at a school-teacher's desk in a room lined with maps and blackboards, and on the-book-shelves I find "Gulliver's Travels" (in French) and other juvenile classics. Outside is one of the village street fountains that are so common, around the corner is a church possessing chimes and a curious bulbous tower, and near by is stationed an American Field Hospital and Ambulance organization, The streets are full of French and American soldiers. (This was Pexonne.)

(Interim here of a night's march)

By now we are sufficiently used to the hiking to travel as light as possible, but one's physical condition at the time makes all the difference in the world. Last night., for instance (this is now June 30)., 1 was glad enough of a chance to put ray blanket roll on a G.S. (General Supply) wagon. I know what it means to almost fall asleep while keeping on the go; in fact the regular rhythmic marching step has much the effect of a rocking cradle. Twice during ten-minute halts I had to jump up out of a nap., but that was because the day before had been rather strenuous, and we had slept on the boards of a floor the preceding night, upstairs in the schoolhouse,

One hike I don't expect ever to forget; that was nine or ten nights ago. We had been' on the outskirts of a large town for a day, and I had been roaming around like everybody else who could get off, visiting the Y.M.C.A. and shops and ferreting out an old castle and other curious places. About 9 P.M. we started, with the prospect of getting considerably closer to the front before morning. A heavy shower wet us thoroughly soon after we got beyond the town, and we marched along a dark road with communicating files between units, We followed a valley (the Meurthe, from Baccarat) for a few miles and then turned to our left through deep woods. For several miles more the road climbed steadily and it remained fairly good till we had passed the crest and dropped down suddenly into a village (Neuf -Maisons). Then we struck off into a poorer road that rapidly degenerated. The night had become so black that one could not see the man ahead of him--could only follow by hanging to his coat tails. Halting every few seconds, stumbling (and grumbling), we straggled along in as little semblance of a marching column as could be imagined. Yet each of us knew that to drop out would mean that he, and all those behind him, would be lost, temporarily at least. (There are no ambulances solicitously chugging in our wake any more,) As it was, we were pretty sure the whole outfit must be lost. We knew that the line was not far away and that we were taking this round about course to avoid a road that Jerry liked to shell, and also we expected a gas alarm at any minute. The Division we were relieving (this was the 42nd) had been gassed the night before.

Just when there seemed to be no trace of a road or path left, small lights suddenly appeared through the trees. They proved to be candles just lighted in some large board shacks, where the men Who had headed our column were getting ready to turn in. It was only a few minutes-till we had threaded a maze of duckboard walks and been assigned to our own particular shack in this rest camp in the woods (Camp-Ker-Arvor). We had done eleven or twelve miles in six hours. It was 3 A.M. then, and it was 1 P.M. the next day when I woke up!

Now, with our little experience of the trenches behind us, we are inclined to feel like veterans, although the "Medical," being non-combatant, doesn't get the worst of it. I have seen what a front-line trench looks like a few hours after a barrage and a raid and cannot honestly be sorry that we are not likely to be exposed to that sort of mix-up. I would rather run the chances of ambulance work than to endure the trench existence, And yet it is fine to see what a spirit is shown, for the most part, in the Infantry, among these drafted men. Most of the first sergeants and a few other non-coms and privates were in the army before last September, but not many.

The first sentence in the above paragraph would have been worded very differently, later; but it will have to stand. Recalling the Badonviller raid. Captain Miles wrote in his History: "The one figure which most strikingly dominated the whole strange scene was that of Captain Condon, Hatless, his sleeves rolled up, and his arms red to the elbows, he worked feverishly to save the life of every man in whom any life was left." (See also 77th Division Citations.) Well, here we have come "back," for at least a week, I suppose, to a village (Bertrichaas) which we touched on our march into the line. We shall have a chance to get rested and washed, and caught up on our letters, It is a fine place for the purpose. There are plenty of clean barns for billets, so closely connected with the houses that the residents can walk out of their second-floor rooms into the hay- mow. There is also plenty of water. It comes rushing down from the hills and flows constantly into big troughs where the townsfolk take what they want and waste the rest. At a big town down the valley (Baccarat) we can got real hot-water baths at the end of a two-mile walk. We are also promised a new issue of clothing.

The scenery of the region is as pretty as one could ask for. It reminds me a good deal of the Highlands of the Hudson. The civilians (mostly women, of course) have been coming from church this morning, looking surprisingly well dressed. There are a number of children, all togged out in their best. It is odd to hear the French speak of them as "pickanins" --that represents their pronunciation of the word,

Lately we have had no hot weather at all, and we had forgotten how uncomfortable it could be till a little extra warmth brought swarms of big vicious flies; this in the trenches.

I am much obliged for all the offers of things to be sent, but I don't know what to ask for, unless perhaps an occasional magazine that I would feel free to read and leave behind for others, The ships coming over have to be saved for necessary supplies, and as a matter of fact whenever as now we get nearer the shops and the "Y.M." we can use a little of the money that usually hangs heavy in our pockets--for such luxuries as chocolate, crackers, oranges, eggs, etc.

(Written at- Neuf-Maisons.,Meurthe-et-Moselle)

July 25, 1918

Everything has been going well, and quietly, since my last letter. We have a new Regimental Surgeon who in many ways is a good deal like Captain B (Brant) whom I had back in camp. Captain W (Wagner) is a very likeable man, knows exactly what needs to be done, and has a fine executive grasp. We are getting things down to a good system, which has really been impossible before, for various reasons. Set up, as we are now in an office separate from the Battalion infirmaries, we can work to much better advantage.

You need have no fears about my being overworked. As soon as the chance comes to ease up I shall do so. I picked up a paper -covered volume of Howells several weeks ago. Some of these days I shall make a start at it.

The excitement of this evening has been the opening of a new Salvation Army place in town--very attractively decorated with flags, etc., and boasting an orchestra. A canteen, where fresh home-made cookies and doughnuts are sold, draws a crowd ten deep. Two Salvation Army girls, very trim in their olive-drab semi-military suits., help to run the place., which is evidently going to vie with the Y.M.C.A. in popularity.

These two girls, we learned later, saw some very active service with the Division that relieved us, accompanying it from the area. They were sisters and Mt. Holyoke graduates.

We had one real entertainment several days ago. Elsie Janis, who has done more than her part to cheer up American soldiers all through France, came our way for about half an hour one noon. She told some good, fresh, funny stories, sang us some new songs, and did some very lively dancing on an outdoor stage. Altogether she provided the biggest chunk of good fun that we have had since we got to this side.

I thought when I got ready to compile a list of articles not to be had (so far as we could see) in France, and not weighing more than a total of seven pounds, I should head it with a box of real American candy. But this afternoon a good friend of mine in the commissary called me into his sanctum. He had set aside for me (they were not yet on sale) a tin can of McAlpin's Chocolates, direct from the McAlpin Hotel kitchens in New York. So the list of what I want and can't get here may grow smaller and smaller if I give it time. Of course what we all crave most are the homely, homemade, home-grown things that all the paper money in France couldn't buy (except for the S.A. offerings mentioned). But were not pining away by any means, so don't let these remarks worry you.

(Written at Fere-en-Tardanois., Department of Aisne)

August 12, 1918

I realize that it is longer than usual since you have heard from me, but this letter must nevertheless be short. We have been making a big move, by hike, train, and lorry, and have bean passing through territory that has become historic lately (Chateau-Thierry and beyond). About thirty miles of, this hike I covered on horseback, with most of my pack on the horse instead of on me--a big relief. (This march was from Neuf-Maisons in the Baccarat Sector to Charmes on the Moselle, where we entrained.) The railroad journey was made in good time, about twenty hours; troop trains over here, made up of perhaps forty box and flat cars, do well if they go at the rate of a fast American freight. Ours was quite a sight. Five or six man dangled their legs out of each car doorway, and others stood behind them, all trying to make out from maps and compasses where we were probably going. An occasional flag, and of course our uniforms, showed our identity and brought us a fine welcome all along the line.

For a couple of days after detraining (at La Ferte-sous-Jouarre) we rested in billets in a near-by town (Jouy). They are likely to be our last billets for some time. I was quartered in a high-basement room that looked out on a very pretty private garden, at the end of which was a stream--which signifies to us just one thing, wash. We used to bring our meals back from the kitchen-wagon and eat them in state in the summerhouse, and in the evening a bottle of fine cider was brought out by the lycee professor who lived above us. (He had had to flee from Chateau-Thierry.) He and his wife were anxious to talk about the war and their own experiences. My own efforts to reciprocate were agonizing, but we managed to transmit our ideas successfully by one means or another,

Now, after a long day's ride in French lorries as improvised omnibuses, careening through the country without stopping even at noon, we have arrived where pup tents are the rule, where nothing is to be bought or sold, and where, the supplies not having caught up with us, we wait for all sorts of things, from ink to foods less elemental than hardtack, coffee, and "bully"--yet it is surprising how much one can eat of such stuff when really hungry.

A Paris editorial writer said the other day., at the end of an article, that there were two reasons in particular why we should now be hopeful (he didn't name them), and that there were other reasons which he was, not permitted to divulge. In the same way, I have to be discreet like the rest, and leave till later the most interesting parts of the story. At any rate, I can say that instead of being on our way to Egypt or Palestine or the Philippines, or any of the other spots for which we were destined by rumor, we have arrived in a most interesting region of France. This moving about makes getting mail to us difficult, The only letters I have had in several weeks were two or three that dated back to June 20th. But all of us live in hopes.

(Written at Sergy, Department of the Aisne)

August 30, 1918

I don't know what- to think of it that a letter was not received from me for five weeks, except that possibly some boat may have gone down, That is the only way, perhaps, to account for such a delay. Over here, I did not receive mail for four weeks, but that was due to our change of station, and I knew that eventually it would come in bunches. It had to be brought up over a shelled road; but when it got to us I had a dozen letters at once, then three, and a few days later three more, So I know everything is all right on the other side--up to July 30th. I appreciate all the time and care it takes to keep me so closely in touch with home.

Don't let rumors or purported news worry you in any way until verified by some reputable source of information. A friend of mine in South Carolina wrote he had read of my being "wounded in action." Perhaps the name was similar. It certainly was not mine,, or if so, by error. I think the New York Tines has the most reliable casualty lists, giving name and also name and address of person to be notified. Of course they can't say anything about organizations. This Regiment has been having a taste of real war lately, and I am afraid some rumor may already have alarmed you, without good cause.

Our Medical Detachment boys have been doing themselves proud. I believe that they and the Surgeons have the hearty regard of the Regiment for their work during the last two or three weeks. There is every reason to be proud of the Regiment as a whole. I urged the Captain to let me go up and relieve one of the sergeants in charge of an advanced dressing station but he thought that no one of them needed relief more than the others. I walked over to the nearest aid post several times, on one errand or another. (This was at Les Pre's Farm.) We ourselves worked under, difficulties. The town where we were stationed (Chery-Chartreuve) was a pet- object of enemy shellfire for the week we occupied it, partly because it was surrounded by our own artillery. There were often half a dozen gas alarms at night, usually not false, but hardly necessary. Gas does not spread far be-yond where a gas shell lands, but the signal is passed on from one post to another, far beyond the reach of the gas. We used to duck down into our cellar dugout two or three times in a night, and finally, to avoid being aroused, I moved down with my blankets. Our office was in the more exposed part of a building that was protected by a hill at the rear--or supposed to be. When things became too lively there was nothing to do but quit work while the choice remained, and hop for the dugout between two shells. Sometime I can tell you more details of our experiences. Those days relieved me of any possible reproach as the holder of a "bullet-proof" job, I consider this good luck. I don't want to feel as if I were on a daisy-picking expedition.

After a week it was decided best to move the Regimental Headquarters from this unhealthy town. The Boches helped to bring the matter to a head by registering a direct hit on the Headquarters one noon when I happened to be out to lunch. The shell passed through the Colonel's room, and wracked the intelligence office and the main Regimental office. A clerk sitting at his typewriter (where I had planned to do some work immediately after lunch) was fatally wounded, and a number of others were wounded or gassed. Previously to this, shells had dropped within a few yards of the building. One that landed in the road outside the Surgeon's office sent a shower of splinters in through the window. Another fell across the way in a narrow space between two cottages without touching either. One of these cottages was my billet. During the periodic "strafing" we could look across the valley and see the explosion of one shell after another aimed at our batteries. Boche airplanes came over several times a day, took all the observations they liked, dropping so low we could almost see the pilot, and then made off while a few half-hearted shots fired by (anti) aircraft guns. It needed allied planes to drive Jerry away, and there seemed to be none, either French or American. The desire of certain officers to have their bedding aired, and absurd attempts to beautify the grounds, naturally attracted attention to the Headquarters. Dozens of wires entered the building, and activity was evident. We paid the penalty.

The Y.M.C.A. maintained a canteen in the center of this town until one day a shell dropped on a crowd of men Waiting to get into the building. Another shell smashed our Band instruments--and some of the personnel. A regiment of Engineers moved from one location to another several times, but a hoodoo seemed to follow them. Of course the Germans knew this town as well as they knew their alphabet. The chief road through Chery-Chartreuve was parallel to the front. Being exposed, was under constant observation it was the most available highway for supply trains, artillery, ambulances, and infantry, and more than one outfit came to grief in that neighborhood.

Down this road, at sundown on the day our Headquarters were wrecked, we scuttled as inconspicuously as possible to Chartreuve Farm. This had been considered a restful place, but the night after our arrival was a warm one. Most of us ended it bunched up in a Signal Corps dugout. If there is one branch of the service where the strain is heavier than in any other, it seems to me it is the Signal Corps. I doubt if there is any other job in the whole category of human occupations that requires so much patience as that of operator at a telephone switchboard at the front. Commanding officers frantically trying to get in touch with one another, everything depending; and the most heart-breaking failures to put the message through, Weeping and cursing and gnashing of teeth going on, and the code system complicating the whole matter. Yet I never saw an operator get rattled or ruffled or insolent. Their courtesy and persistence and self- control were amazing. Several times in a night, perhaps, something would "happen" to a wire; then one of the men would start out alone unconcernedly to repair it, as likely as not having to be carried back. They were a sporting crowd.

It was hardly a mile from Chery-Chartreuve to Chartreuve Farm, but the distance was only too long for some of the Headquarters bunch. A shell landed a few yards from the long-suffering mule who was responsible for all the Regimental records. It was too much foil him. He bolted and out of the cart tumbled a field desk which broke open and Scattered papers to the four winds. There was no stopping the mule or the Detachment just then, but later two or three men went back and retrieved what they could. At the Farm, some of us explored upper floors, where there were cots and other comforts, but fortunately we decided to stay nearer the earth. The fellow who was next to me on the ground floor, till I went below, stuck it out- there. The next morning he found a shell splinter beside him. We traced its course down through the roof and two floors. He said he had felt something "tap" him in the night, but didn't pay any attention to it.

The chief architectural feature of this farm was a ruined chateau. Some of the great mirrors and other decorations showed how handsome it had been. There were all the evidences of a once lordly estate-a dancing pavilion, gardens, conservatory, garage, and stables. Somewhat removed was a large tenant house, or manager's residence, facing a great courtyard surrounded on three sides by barns and store-houses. As the bugler was likely to sound "under cover" at any moment., on sighting an airplane, we were supposed never to cross this yard, but always to keep close to the walls, and make the circuit.

In the comfortable manager's house, still intact and well furnished, not only our Regiment but an Artillery outfit as well had a " P.C. "--Post of Command. It was intensely interesting to hear the artillery officers direct the -firing by telephone. One day I was told that the first American gas shells were just going over; that there had been much hesitation about using them, but that it had been decided finally that the only way to fight German gas shells was by retaliating in kind. A little box of a room was assigned the Surgeon for an office. There I sat trying to make out reports while squadrons of Boche flies raided the place. Great big vicious monsters. Between them and the plague of wasps we couldn't even eat a meal in peace; they disputed every mouthful.

Our discomforts seemed trivial when we compared them with conditions existing in Mont St. Martin and Ville Savoye, only a few miles away. Near the latter village, in a big cave facing an exposed road, an aid post had been established., because wounded men had collected in it as a refuge, The medical officers and men in the cave were prisoners for several days, but., with the cooperation of the Ambulance Company, which had several cars wrecked in the effort, they evacuated a number of cases successfully. Several Infantry officers, standing at the mouth of this cave, were killed, among them Captain Belvidere Brooks. After the road had become impassable --it was pockmarked with shell holes--men were carried by litter to Mont St. Martin. In this area the Regiment had its worst experience with gas. A blazing sun beat down on ground untouched by rain for weeks, and horses lay unburied where they had fallen. Altogether it was an unlovely region.

Just now we hear no war like sounds, except at night a barrage of our own guns in the distance. But we are on ground that will always be historic, in a town that they say was taken and lost by the Americans seven or eight times and finally won for good (Sergy), where the fields are full of the biggest shell holes we have seen, and the buildings, especially the church--topped by a fine central tower--are battered from many a bombardment. This church is one of those in which the altar has miraculously escaped injury.

There is an old man who wanders about here, who was caught, together with his family, perhaps not knowing where to take refuge. It is said that his wife and eight of his children died from exposure, and that the only surviving, son is at the front and has been wounded several times. That is what it means to have war brought into a peaceful country. Yet the people begin to drift back even when their homes are in ruins. There are a few women already returned, usually busy at the central "scrubbery," or whatever it may be called--

" Lavoir," they have it in French.

Most of us have taken to the small stream. near by and have accomplished the first scrubbing possible in about a month. There is also a crude shower bath hidden away in a side street, in a shed. Although the water is cold, it is worth its weight in francs. That would be cheap, at present, for we have hard work to spend any money at all. The Y.M.C.A. men are not afraid of shellfire, and their supplies are often brought up under difficulties, but there is absolutely no place here where one can leave a franc on the counter. The Red Cross made us a present of some sweet chocolate the other day, however, and we get our share of the striped red-white-and-blue boxes provided by the various tobacco funds.

(Written at Chateau du Diable near Fismes on the Vesle)

September 11, 1918

Day be fore yesterday I went over to our Regimental ration dump (At Fismes) and found packages dated at Chelsea Terminal between August 3 and 13. Mail is often brought up with the rations-- distributed as rapidly as possible afterward. Yesterday I made the same trip again to visit the Quartermaster dump and arrange for new clothes for some of us who are not included on Battalion requisitions. The latest good news is that we shall all probably get entire new outfits as soon as the Division is relieved.

We have been having considerable of an experience in the line. That "we" means the Regiment- as a whole. Where I am stationed it has been tame enough. We thought for a while that enemy artillery would be after us (that is, our location), this particular spot having been given up by the Boches only after a hot defense. We are on a height that overlooks a wide --stretch of valley, but there is another hill between us and the present front line. Shells have been dropping in two towns, one on either side of us (Fismes- and Bazoches), but it is

understood that the enemy artillery is retreating. (They took up a strong position on the heights above the Aisne, when ousted from. the Vesle valley)

Occasionally one is treated to the surprise of high explosive shrapnel bursting overhead without warning, and at night others seem to hear shells near enough to worry them. But I sleep soundly. One night jerry came on an old-fashioned air raid such as we learned to know in the spring. He dropped one of his "pills" directly behind us, in some soft ground, and we felt the vibration. But this is of course small business compared to what has been going on a few miles ahead of us,

On one occasion all the personnel stationed at one of our Battalion aid posts left their dugout and went out in the face of heavy artillery fire to take care of the boys and got them down to a sheltered spot. As likely you have read the Boches have been forced out of their trenches into the open at last. This has its advantages, and perhaps some disadvantages. The villages around here are particularly desolate. They have been raked by long-distance fire from both sides, some of them having been taken., lost and retaken several times. (This was particularly true of Fismes. )

Since I last wrote we have moved again (as you may take for granted), first to a certain farm (Chartreuve Farm), where we had spent some time once before, Then, at sundown the next day, in the midst of a regular parade of troops and all sorts of supply trains, the advance of which had at last become safe, we started out to follow up the Battalions. (Through Chery-Chartreuve and Mont St. Martin to Ville Savoye.) We spent part of the night in a barn, and at four in the morning (it is still dark here at that hour) we proceeded along a narrow wood path, crossing a river on a new temporary bridge. One candle kept us from walking off into space; it was passed on down the line, as each of us reached the first plank of the bridge. Finally we established ourselves in a curious chateau, most of which is in ruins, it once had a large conservatory and various odd features, such as a butler's pantry housed in a glass enclosed balcony. It is said to have been the home of an eccentric gentleman who had Monte Carlo interests-- but this may be worth as little belief as most rumors. At all events we are thankful that he provided a basement excavated out of the hill, so that it is well protected on three sides. The fourth. Side, to be sure faces the enemy!

The Chateau du Diable was on the main road from Soissons to Rheims. about half a mile from Fismes. Two fantastic weathervanes, of gigantic size, which had been. shot down, inspired the name "Chateau of the Devil." A large bridge between us and the town, had beer, blown up. Our Engineers

replaced it by a wooden foot bridge.

Everywhere one sees evidences that the Boche intended to make himself very comfortable and at home. The other day I noticed two sewing machines in a wrecked Shanty. I suppose they had kept many a uniform ready for dress parade. The German graves invariably carry the sentiment, "Hier ruhe in Gott, etc." Devout these Huns are, even when they are concocting all sorts of deviltry. They need a particularly German God to look, out for them. (Doubtless they would have returned the compliment.)

After a very dry summer, but with nothing like the heat that you write of having at home, what appears to be a rainy season has at last struck us. The nights are always cool, and we are beginning to wonder what it will be like when December comes along.

You will be amused to hear of one of the expedients I was driven to. Soon after we arrived on this side we were ordered, as I may have written to pack all extra personal clothing and in fact everything 0f our own except toilet articles, and carry with us only the prescribed equipment. The rest was left behind in our blue barrack bags.

One sweater was allowed so I had to choose from among my three; but I smuggled in a knitted helmet, which I wear almost every night. Our packs were supposed to be inspected for unauthorized articles, but they never were, and as for those barrack bags, nobody expects them ever to turn up, As a matter of fact, it would have been out of the question for us to have lugged around all the stuff we brought over with us. A good deal of it, like knitted goods and soap, we had been encouraged to put in. I had used soap flakes so successfully in camp that I put in several boxes. These broke open in transit and the contents sifted all through the bag; then the whole business got wet-- probably fell into the harbor when the ship unloaded-and you can perhaps imagine the condition my duds were in when I unpacked.

But as to my expedient-one day I saw a fellow hang a big brown muffler on the branch of a tree. He had got tired of carrying it on many a hot hike, and decided winter was too far away to bother about; and consequently he was offering it to the first comer. I laid hands on it , and at my leisure devised two handsome sleeves, which I sewed on to my sweater. thereby quite literally extending its usefulness. I had discovered that if one's arms were cold, one might as well be cold all over.

Written at Chateau du Diabe, near Fismes, on the Vesle)

This letter seems to be missing. It was written September 16, just- as we were about to leave the Vesle for the Argonne.

I described a visit made to our Battalion in support, near Blanzy-les-Fismes, a few miles from Chateau du Diable. That afternoon we walked through Perles, which had been entirely destroyed, and had chance to realize the difficulties encountered by our men in driving the enemy back over comparatively open ground, where, however, numberless natural pits gave the Boches a chance to use machine guns and hand grenades. Besides, their artillery had a clear sweep.

Battalion headquarters and the aid post dugout were on a high plateau looking down into Blanzy, and we watched the town being heavily shelled. Here was located the dressing station of the Ambulance Company then evacuating for us, Before our return we visited it to carry a message from the Regimental Surgeon. Most of the rest of the town had been ruined, but the dressing station, although aboveground, had not been touched.

During the afternoon we saw an exciting air battle between several Allied and several German planes, directly overhead, The Boches were driven away, but one French plane had to come down. The aviator, though wounded, made a very pretty landing. Several big observation balloons (French, I suppose) were usually up over the Vesle valley near Fismes, and we saw some very daring exploits of enemy planes directed against them. It was impossible to help admiring the nerve of some of the German aviators. We saw one swoop down to within a few yards of the balloon, set it afire, and dart away before either the aircraft guns or our planes could got him. The balloon observer, in this case, had to come to earth by parachute.

Our Division had just reached the edge of the Aisne, and was fronted by the Germans entrenched on the Chemin des Dames, when we were relieved by an Italian Division. In leaving the area, we passed through Fismes, thereby offering Jerry our whole Brigade as a present, if he had only been equal to the occasion. As it was, he landed a shell in the center of the town, while the traffic was tangled, and our friends the 307th Infantry Medical Detachment were the victims. That bright moonlight night we marched to Vezilly. This was 19 kilometers for those of us from near Fismes, and a good deal farther for the men coming out of the line. Besides, they were exhausted and half-starved from their experience in the advance. If there is one thing harder than any other it is to be "relieved" and have to make a long march in leaving an area,

While the Regimental Headquarters was in the Chaateau du Diable, I made another trip besides that described. Borrowing the Surgeon's horse, I crossed the Vesle valley, passed through Ville Savoye and Mont St. Martin and reached Chery-Chartreuve, where I got, at the Y. M. C.A. as much chocolate and tobacco as the saddle bags would hold. The following day these were sent up to be distributed among our Detachment men, at several aid posts. 'The only exciting feature of the excursion was that I had not yet learned to ride well, and of course I knew that the horse knew that I wasn't used to the saddle. But he was an amiable beast, patient as Job.

Written at Le Rond-Chanp., a Camp near Vienne-le- Chateau, in the Argonne)

September 26., 1918

I don't know just when I shall be able to post this letter, and that may make it out of data soon, but I shall try to get an ambulance to take it. I sent off a card about a week ago by the same means, We have been very much on the move, so much so that the post office has hard work to keep up with us. When I have a chance. I intend to figure out the number of places where we have at least bivouacked for a night--or remained longer. Out of nine nights in succession, since I last wrote, we hiked on five, on another took a lorry ride of over 100 miles, and on three we slept straight through.

That lorry ride was an experience not to be forgotten. You might not think, from the fact that it took us sixteen hours., that we made much speed, but every little while we were held up by an obstruction of one kind or another. We hardly stopped for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time during the trip, and had to get along on dry rations altogether, When we did strike a clear stretch we went bouncing along over a roadbed that had boon ruined by heavy traffic.

Each lorry was equipped with two long seats, facing each other. They were narrow and seemed to slope toward the aisle, so we had to hold on constantly to keep from being shaken off. Realizing the difficulty of sleep, we sang songs for several hours--all those we could remember. After that several of us, tired out from the preceding night's march, tumbled down among the packs and slept. It was a queer jumble of anatomy and baggage. We were lucky to have only fourteen aboard instead of the prescribed twenty-one, and they were a good crowd,

Intelligence Department men, with three of us from the " Medical"

This ride was from Vezilly, up the Marne valley, through Chalons and Vitry-le--Francois, where we turned sharply left halting finally at Epense, some miles south of Ste, Menehould, just below the Argonne.)

Then for a day and a half and a night and a half, two of our Battalion outfits and we of Headquarters had a very jolly reunion. Of course a long trip such as I have mentioned means a very definite change of location, it may Surprise you, unless you have been able to keep track of my longer journeys, to find that we have been on three different fronts since our original area. Don't suppose, when I speak of a night hike that it means an entire night given up to it. We might pull in at 1:00 or 2:00 or earlier, or else start out before sunrise. Our last long hike, before we "embussed" was one of nineteen kilos, or about twelve miles. This was made rather strenuous by the fact that most of the men were just leaving the line (they had at least 25 kilos to march), and then, too, in order to get well clear of the danger zone as fast as possible, we had to plug along at a fast pace for two hours without a halt.

We got mail, and plenty of it, a couple of days ago, after our transport, which had been carrying it for a week, finally caught up when our American supplementary organizations, such as the Y.M.C.A., are left in the rear, we sometimes have the good luck to strike the French Y.M. (Foyers du' Soldat), as at the roomy and attractive shack where I got this paper (Foyers letterhead). This place had seen French, Italian, and American troops, It was part of a well organized camp in the forest (Camp Croix Gentin), where we found an unusually good infirmary, luxuriously provided with bunks., mattresses, and two electric lights. We could almost imagine ourselves on Broadway,

At present I find myself" writing in a dugout that boasts the best substitute for a plate glass window, one of oiled cloth that lets in plenty of light and yet is opaque and unbreakable. There are shutters to let down at night. The dugout is quite a model of its kind. It backs into a hillside is of stout steel and timber construction, and is protected above by a "four-foot thickness of rocks on the roof. On the central panel of the triple window is a Red Cross and "Posto di Medicazione," besides the name of the Italian regiment originally stationed here. All around us are eaves and dugouts, tier above tier,

All the talk is of hopes that the Boche will have a "ki" prefixed to him before long. If only he could be driven into the earth before winter--or not that exactly, for what vie want most of all is to keep him out of his trenches, in the open. As far as we can tell from newspapers that occasionally drift our way, the Allies in various parts of the world are making magnificent gains. Now comes news of General Allenby's latest conquests in Palestine. I believe it will be only a matter of time till the concerted, drives under Foch's direction will overwhelm the Kaiser or his advisers or bring the German people to a realization of what will happen eventually.

It has been interesting lately to see a good deal of the French colonial troops --black men from the West Indies and from North Africa, the latter resplendent in red fez, They are said to be great fighters.

If my letters are of any Interest, it is because there are such big possibilities in the subject matter. I only regret that I can't write up our experiences as they deserve. A letter is apt to be slip shod, and often it is written under difficulties and with hopes of getting it I nailed before an. order comes to "roll packs." Some of you have spoken of reading letters from Chaplain H (Halligan). He is a man we all think everything of--the best type of young Catholic priest. He is a great worker and very kind hearted and he risks his own safety almost constantly, He has a fund of good humor that never in the least harms his clerical dignity. As for my health at this writing--the mess corporal cries, "How do you do it?" when I show up for a third helping of dinner, even dinner reduced to its lowest terms of Chicago Bully, alias Corned Willy. After all, this maligned food, if sufficiently camouflaged, can be made delicious. And then as to sleep, I can sleep on the ground or anything above it,

This letter was written the day the great Argonne drive started. The Infantry went over the top early in the morning, after the barrage along the whole front had ceased. Regimental Headquarters was advanced on the 28th to La Harazee,

(Written in Argonne Forest at Concrete Dugout near Depot des machines)

October 8, 1918

The K. of C. happened to be much nearer than the Y.M.C.A. when my stock of writing paper gave out. (K. of C. stationery used.) In some respects the K. of C. certainly deserve a lot of credit. For instance, they use a kind of movable house--a trailer or "limber"- which can be hitched to a lorry and dropped at some point where the wounded are collected, such as an ambulance post. Here they make hot cocoa day and night and every man gets his cupful. They also keep on hand a stock of cigarettes and writing paper for all comers. A cigarette will give more comfort to a fellow who is being loaded on to an ambulance than anything else. The K. of C. men got as close to the line as they can. Sometimes they station themselves next to a battery, if there is reason for it, knowing that the position will be a target for the enemy sooner or later. I don't discount the work the Y.M. does, but it is only fair to recognize that our Catholic friends are doing their share,

Where would you guess I am writing this letter? I expected I should still be quartered in a little cave just large enough to hold four or five stretchers, with an entrance about three feet high and no more head room inside. (At crossroads, La Harazee) This was near the foot of a little narrow-gauge railway, which carries ammunition, food, and medical supplies up into the forest, and at night brings the wounded down to the ambulance stand. By day the ambulances can use a road (that from Le Four-de-Paris), but for two or three days not even the narrow gauge was in operation, and hospital cases had to be brought several miles by stretcher, over a rough, slippery, and treacherous trail, which would not have existed at all but for the Engineers. Each of these trips took twelve hours, an ordeal for the men who were injured and for the litter squads. The men of our Regimental Band did themselves proud as stretcher-bearers, This was the worst evacuating situation we have ever struck.

In order to keep an eye on the loading, I spent one night on the front seat of one of those wonderful little jitney ambulances. The next night several of us took turns on guard, and after that we let the drivers be responsible. After Capt. W (Wagner), Capt. H (Hewey), and their two assistants went up to the aid post, I was left behind to see that supplies were forwarded, or to get them personally from the Medical Supply Depot or from our medical carts at the Regimental Transport. Men from two companies and the various units attached to Headquarters were near by, and when a small influenza epidemic broke out I found my hands full. We could spare room in the ambulances for only the worst cases, and the, men all wanted to keep away from the hospital if they could. I had to depend on a very rough and ready treatment, but it was probably as much as such cases would have had at the Field Hospital.

The Field Hospital and Medical Supply Depot combined are quite a sight just now. They are housed in an old abbey church (at La Chalade). Wards have been screened off inside, partly to shut off drafts (it is wretchedly damp and chilly), and the altar is piled high with bandages, splints, other first-aid paraphernalia, and medicines. Some of the latter are so scarce that we get about one-tenth of the amount we put in for. I went down there twice, glued to the running board of an ambulance.

Years later, in looking up the French word lapin, I Found, of course., that by itself it means "rabbit." but the phrase monter (or) voyager en lapin means "to ride beside the driver on the running board"!

We were able to snake our way through the worst sort of traffic blockades. The Military Police always give such cars the right of way. It is a habit in the army to ridicule the "M.P.'s" but they sometimes have to handle a situation on one of these crowded roads that could occur nowhere else. One five-ton truck, digging itself in worse and worse, the harder it tries to pull out of a gully, may tie up a whole Division's movement. The S.S.U. (Service Sanitaire Unite/#____) drivers of ambulances are largely men who have been here many months, coming voluntarily to serve the French and being transferred to the American Army after we entered the war.

They are a great crew. They get so they drive almost by instinct, Not being allowed lights, they still are able to hold to the road even on the blackest of nights. When a great lorry comes bearing down on them, all they can do, they say, is to keep close to what they suppose is their own side, and hope they will come through. They have done some wonderful work for us. Our own Ambulance Company men are kept busy in the ambulance dressing stations, as runners at the aid posts, and as drivers of some of the bigger ambulances (G.M.C. cars) that carry cases on down to the Evacuation Hospital.

Well, I have got far away from a statement, as to where I am at this moment. It is a Boche dugout of the elaborate sort you have seen described, in the heart of the forest-built of steel and concrete, possessing glass windows, chairs, tables, comfortable bunks, and wired with electricity (though the enemy unkindly did something to the connections before leaving). The sanitary arrangements are model and evidently the housekeeper didn't like to have her floors tracked up for we found a foot scraper worthy of the porch of a baronial hall. I am sitting in what used to be the infirmary. Besides it, there are a number of other rooms, all opening out on to a concrete trench passageway. From what we have seen elsewhere (especially at Fere-en- Tardenois), I would be willing to wager that" they had had plush armchairs and porcelain bath tubs. Some one of those prolific German writers ought to put together a six-volume treatise on "Living as a Fine Art While at War."

This is where I have spent the night, together with Lieut. F (Feldman). We started for our Aid Post (leaving the cross roads at La Harazee), but got soaked in a torrent of rain, and also pretty well lathered with the slithery mud of this region. When it became too dark to push on without risk of catastrophe, we took shelter, and were glad enough to tumble in here. It- was only about six, but had begun to seem like night. Our clocks have been turned back an hour, and we lose at the end of the day what is gained in the morning,

My little cave at the crossroads lost its attractiveness after all my toilet articles had been abstracted one noon while I was away at dinner. I hope I shall be able to salvage a razor and a toothbrush somewhere. I was within a stone's throw of a French battery, but I haven't any particular reason to suspect the "Froggies" of the theft,

It is "some" sensation to have one of those big guns firing in the night a few yards from one's head. We used to stuff cotton in our ears. As a shell goes out into space, it leaves a kind of vacuum--an impression that the shell has stopped, suspended in mid air. One doesn't forget, either, the sight of a battery in action at night, flame shooting out of the guns in the wake of each shell.

Last night I joined the crowd of "Froggies" who were throwing down their coppers for the days Paris papers, the current morning's issue being equivalent to a "Complete Final Extra in Manhattan, I grabbed one before they were all gone, and it verified the rumors that Austria and Turkey, at any rate are ready to quit. Germany, apparently, still needs a little more moral suasion.

I got one letter the other day that had taken only twenty days in coming, and the cable you sent took, as I figured it out, fifteen!

(Written at Abri du Crochet- Argonne Forest, in a Former German

Headquarters Called the "Waldhaus Martha")

October 18, 1918

What we had waited for, for many a week--the relief of the Division--has apparently been accomplished at last. At, all events another division (the 78th) did come in and take our place. Just now we are some kilos from the front and not expecting to be sent back right away. If we had been allowed to take a rest when we wanted, it, the work for which this Division is best known would have been done by some other. The Regiment has been doing itself proud. This is apparently known in New York, for Chaplain H (Halligan) had a cable telling about a big celebration that had been held by the (308)th Infantry Association. We still belong to New York by origin, although our replacement troops have come largely from the west and the south-west, some even from California. Of the sixteen who came up together from Georgia (Camp Greenleaf. Fort Oglethorpe) to form the nucleus of our outfit, only two of the Battalion sergeants and myself remain. (The Historical Sketches preceding those Letters say "seventeen.") To be sure, some of the others were transferred before we left camp. Only one officer who came over with us is still with the Detachment, and we hope we shall never lose him, for he is a prince. (Lieut., later Capt., A. D. Morgan.)

I remember the last time I wrote I was in an ex-German dugout. Now here I am in another and here have been several in between. I will try to tell the story from the morning of the 8th in sequence so far as possible.

The lieutenant and I left the concrete dugout and made our way up to the Regimental Aid Post. Here we found that the whole Detachment (or all those available) had been divided into teams and had gone up and across a nearby valley in order to take care of a battalion which had been trapped there for six days, The Boches had worked in all around them, and it was only after a number of attempts that they were rescued from a desperate situation. But they wouldn't surrender, although the only food they had had lately was what little could be dropped from airplanes, The only messengers able to get through were carrier pigeons,

Practically all the survivors had to be sent off to the hospital. Those who were not wounded were so weak from exhaustion that they needed a good long rest. Fortunately a road was found that permitted ambulances to come up within a few yards of the stretcher cases. By packing the cars to the limit, with the less serious cases clinging to the running boards, we got this big evacuating job done by 2:00 in the afternoon. You never saw such a patient crowd. There they sat along the side of the road, wrapped in blankets, each of them looking like a cross between a specter and a hobo, waiting their turn without a Murmur.

We made our way back afterward along a narrow gauge track that the Boches in retreating had tried their hardest to put out of commission. They had left quite a long stretch, however, and along this we pushed a diminutive flat car. On it was enthroned the most chipper stretcher case I ever saw. He was a young fellow, hardly more than a boy, who had been wounded and taken prisoner by the Germans. In their haste they had left him behind. We picked him up and found he had a probable leg fracture and other wounds. He said the Boches had been quite decent to him. Another chap we met had escaped being made a prisoner by playing dead every time a Fritz was near.

Some of our detachment men had been assigned to duty with companies that were caught in the "pocket" and we found the Infantry officers and men enthusiastic over their work. After two of them had been wounded, the others had to keep o the go night and day, scrambling around through the woods in answer to calls for first aid. Our men who have been out with the companies have borne the brunt of things. They have great stories to tell, but they are uniformly modest about their own exploits.

The chief hero of the episode I have related, the battalion commander, had been a Captain for more than a year (since we arrived in camp). For ten days he had been wearing the gold leaves of a major, and the morning the "pocket" was opened, his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel came through in record time from G. H. Q. A very unassuming and kindly man and, I have heard it said, one of the best tacticians in the Division

I spent one night at what was once a large German hospital camp. A railway track runs up to what was probably the receiving station, before one of our shells obliterated it. From here men could be carried farther to the rear, or back again to the front. The main building is on the side of a hill, arranged like a flight of great steps. A long outside stairway connects the rooms on different levels. Concrete and steel construction, the roof carrying a six-foot thickness of the former material, protects it as well as any building could be protected. The rooms opened our eyes to the luxury enjoyed by the German high command. That used by Captain W (Wagner) as an office, and in which I slept one night, the Brigadier general moved into the next day. There were curtains at the windows, a decorative frieze around the wall, framed pictures, fancy electroliers, writing table, bookcase, etc.

If anything, the next place we moved to outdid the other. It resembled a rustic hunting lodge, and apparently had been a Swabian staff headquarters. (It was called "Schwaben Haus") Opposite the fireplace in the dining hall was a large round table anchored in an alcove. I suppose this, and the typically German beer-garden terrace outside, had seen many a royal conference. Two of as found a little white washed room, containing the two comforts of a stove and an electric light, and we made ourselves very cozy. As usual, it was too good to last. The next day we moved, and that night found us in a patch of scrubby woodland (not far from Lancon). Coming to a halt late, we put down. stretchers, and didn't even bother to pitch our shelter tents, The next move brought us to a farm (Malassise Farm; popularly known as "Molasses Farm" ) on the bank of a famous river (the Aisne), Here were the headquarters of several units, including the Ambulance Company which was evacuating for us. We found room, in one of the many buildings. It hadn't much in the way of walls but it did have a fairly whole roof. We screened off one corner with blankets and shelter halves to provide a place where we could light a candle. Until we did this, we used to turn in at about 6:30 for lack of anything better to do. Hare we remained while one of our battalions went up into the line.

When the Division was relieved, we started back, meeting on the way the division ordered to take our place. This always reminds me of Brer Fox descending into the well in one bucket, while Brer Rabbit ascends to light and a cheerful world in the other. The resemblance

Would be stronger if it were not such an ordeal to leave the forward area and got out of somebody elses way,

The division that relieved us, the 78th, did not arrive as soon as expected, but we had our orders to move out. The consequence was that Grandpre, an important objective, which had been taken by the 77th, was reentered by the Ger-mans, and several days later our Regiment, on call in re-serve, was ordered to the front in the middle of the night, to support the 78th in its effort to retake the town. Before our men got there the town had been occupied by the 78th and the long hike back was undertaken at once. Pushing through a relief as quickly as possible always entails temporary hardship, I suppose we marched eight or ten miles, mostly in a drizzling rain and in mud up to our ankles. The mud, fortunately while disagreeable, is thin, almost fluid, resembling concrete in the making, and does not make as much trouble as it might. I had put my roll on the Headquarters G.S. wagon, at Captain VP s (Wagner' s) suggestion, so I had only my haversack and belt to carry. With me were five new men who had just core from the States, and were carrying packs that had never been reduced to the minimum that a quick move necessitates. I expected that by the time these packs were soaked through, several of the owners would have given up the effort, but not one of them did. They were game and stuck it out, and were none the worse the next morning. One of them who had never learned to roll a pack properly lost one of a pair of brand new shoes, so the other was left in the ditch! "Exigencies of the Service" will cover this disappearance on the next Quartermaster requisition.

About nine that evening we stopped to bivouac, No shelter was visible, and most of us had just enough energy left to get our tents up and turn in. Others, who lacked the halves to make a whole, built fires and dozed around them through the night. It was hardest on the boys who had just come from some very active work at the front. But I suppose it couldn't be helped. Arrangements usually come from Corps or some other high source and the commander of a battalion, a regiment or even a brigade may have no control over the situation. It did make us disgusted, though, when next morning we found plenty of comfortable shacks in the neighborhood, almost within a stone's throw.

Capt. W (Wagner), Capt. H (Hewey), our chief dental surgeon, a Couple of assistants, and I have now come down to the Regimental Head-quarters. It is established on a hillside, with a deep valley below, and woods all around. The foliage here is very heavy and in its autumn coloring reminds me of tree-covered hills in New York or Massachusetts. Such a contrast as it is to the barren wreck of a forest where our drive started--not a leaf on thousands of trees, only jaunt trunks and shattered limbs, and below a tough, almost impenetrable, undergrowth ten feet high and imbedded in mud.

The boys are pretty well cheered up tonight, Several big tents were pitched at a point convenient for the whole regiment, and therein were installed shower baths and all sorts of clothing supplies. We were glad to have a complete new issue, instead of having our duds put through the steam sterilizer (in plain language, the delouser). I don't know that we were in as ragged a condition as once before when I remember seeing a good many men who were more out of their clothes than in them. One of my friends (William Lindorff) was a pretty sad sight the day he was notified that a commission as second Lieutenant in the Artillery had at last come through for him, and he was ordered to Saumur for further training. Fortunately, before descending en route on Paris, he was able to buy a uniform from one of our officers. You can perhaps imagine the difficulties of keeping a division outfitted when it dashes from one front to another.

Here it is within a day of six months since we first found ourselves arriving at "an English port" (Liverpool). Within forty-eight hours we were in France. (A night trip to Dover, few hours there, and we crossed to Calais.) That means that we are due for our first little gold service stripe, a "v" worn on the left arm. In this Division it is rumored that because we have been in the forward areas 120 days without a rest, we shall wear inside the "v" a small silver star. That will make one look quite like an understudy for a brigadier general, (This was only a rumor!)

I should like the "Stars and Stripes" issue of October 11th saved, for reasons that may be clear from reading that issue and this letter.

I am sending the addressed poster for a Christmas package more as a joke than seriously, for I don't know what "you all" could collaborate on sending that I need or that would fit the prescribed- size box. Since this morning, when an American commissary set up a big tent and sold me a shaving brush and a tooth brush. I feel well supplied with necessaries. I had previously salvaged two razors, one straight and one safety. All my handkerchiefs, except the one in my pocket, were deftly carried away early one morning, during the excitement incident to an advance. Perhaps a few khaki colored handkerchiefs and a Prophylactic toothbrush would be as welcome as anything. My wants are few, and if this migration of ours really lands us in or near some civilized spot they will be fewer, if wishes were horses or Huyler's. I'd say make it some of the latter, but under the circumstances they would be about equally transmittable,

Practically all we know regarding peace possibilities is rumor, we surely have Fritz on the run, and I believe the German army knows what is the inevitable end. But the idea of unconditional surrender is a bitter pill for their national pride to swallow. It does not seem possible that they would face another winter. This time they would have no prospect of being allowed to settle down beside a stove to enjoy the long winter evenings reading, with a Mazda, lamp adjusted at the correct angle; not to forget a warm shower before retiring.

(Written at Chene Tondu, Argonne Forest, near German Theatre)

October 25, 1918

You might Judge from the fancy stationery that I am back in Paris (back in a military sense) or some other equally unapproachable place. It happens to come from a stock that was "salvaged" off one of our medical carts in a recent drastic overhauling of their contents. It will be a wonder if when we get home some of us don't inadvertently do some "salvaging" that may be called by another name.

There is nothing much new to report, except that an actual relief is hardly in sight as yet, and after ten days of more or less rest our boys are most of them again well toward the front. Apparently these pig-headed Dutchmen have got to be forced back to their own boundaries before they will do more than write notes that mean they want peace but also want everything else in sight, unless it has already been entirely lost to them.

At present I am a few kilos from where I was when I wrote last. The days are quiet, but the nights are disturbed by shells, which have not so far done any damage. On clear nights airplanes add their contribution to the mix-up by dropping an occasional bomb. Bombs are so valuable that they are not usually dropped near the line, but are saved for towns, supply dumps, and hospitals. We are now on the side of a hill, or ridge, from which a wonderful sweep of country is visible, as fine a panorama as we have seen in France. On the horizon at night we can mark the line by flares and rockets.

This was one of several short letters enclosed in a Base Censor envelope. In other letters I told of the camp which the Germans had built up at Chene Tondu. They had used a natural amphitheater, and on a series of terraces had built a number of small shacks, enough to quarter a regiment. Near by was a theatre, having both a stage and a balcony, where our Division players gave several performances. One evening during the show a shell came singing over our heads and burst a few hundred feet beyond the building. It was the first shell we had had at this location and we were as surprised as if we had been sitting in the Hippodrome in New York. The whole audience and the actors instinctively ducked, and then laughed at themselves for doing it.

(Written at La Forge Farm, between Haraucoort and Angecourt, Ardennes)

November 10, 1918

While I have a possible chance, I must let you know that I am all right, We have had a great experience in chasing the Boches across miles of French territory, They evacuated in such haste, ahead of the big push in which our Division was only one of many, that the Problem most of the time was how to keep up with the glorious procession, In a week we passed through upward of twenty towns, and, I estimate, must have covered about 60 kilos by road and probably 35 or 40 as the bird flies. Though the prospect often seemed poor. I was so lucky as to have a roof over my head every night (or at any rate part of every night). Occasionally there was even a good bunk or a mattress instead of the floor which if dry can be at times as welcome as a luxurious bed would be ordinarily.

For a couple of days our kitchen could not keep up with us, but we missed a meal only now and then, The rear-guard action of the enemy, all that he could put up after being forced off the heights (above the Aisne and the Aire), resulted in keeping us back on several occasions. Two or three times we came near entering a town, Colonel's car and all, before the place had been mopped up, Once at sundown, after dodging shells in a railway cut part of the afternoon, the Headquarters Detachment took to the ties, headed by our two Chaplains (James J. Halligan and Russell G. Nye). We started up the track and across lots toward a village (Oches) where our "P.C." was supposed to be established that night. After we had gone two or three kilos, a machine gun began popping a few yards away, and, not being intended as a combat party, we made a dignified but speedy return, without anybody's giving a command! Those who knew, or thought they did figured it out afterward that the gun was one of our own, but it made a sound like trouble, whomever it belonged to.

At the start of the second phase of the Argonne--Meuse offensive, on November 1st, our Regimental Headquarters was picturesquely established in a big quarry pit at Pylone, about midway between Lancon and Chatel--Cheherys on a cross road through the forest. We had come up to it the day before from Chene Tondu. The great bar-rage that initiated the drive went over our heads in the early morning. Being in reserve, we did not advance till the morning of the 2nd. Our route took us through the Bois de Cornay to Marcq and on to St, Juvin. Near this place we were allowed to build great bonfires at suppertime, because, it was said, the enemy had retreated so far that it would make no difference. We kept on that night to Verpel, arriving in the early morning. I had Captain W's (Wagner's) horse to ride. He and other officers were picked up by a Signal Corps truck, At Champigneulle we took the wrong turn and did not discover the mistake till we got, to Beffu. Between there and Verpel the road was under fire, and between Verpel and Thenorgues the shelling was so heavy that the column was stopped at Verpel and we did not advance till next noon. We found that the Germans had filled the large church with tiers of wire bunks, and took advantage of these.

The next night, after a very trying, rainy march through Thenorgues and Briquenay, was spent in the church at Germont. A double balcony on each side of the interior had been built in the barracks. The walls were decorated with bible texts in German. On the 4th we passed through Autruche, and after failing to get to Oches, spent the night at St. Pierremont. The night of the 5th saw us in La Berliere, having stayed part of a day in Oches. Next we passed through Stonne and La Besace, where the roofs were covered with white flags, and the night of the 6th we spent in Raucourt. On the 7th we reached Angecourt, and there we remained for three days. When the Armistice was signed we had come to a more satisfactory headquarters at La Forge Farm, about half a mile south of Angecourt.

There was hardly a day during our long hike when it didn't rain, more or less, and the mud became one of our worst obstacles. We ploughed or slopped through it, according to the local conditions, and waited indefinitely for a chance to scrape shoes and leggings. That chance came a few days ago when headquarters was established in a large house formerly occupied by German officers. For a Surgeon's office and infirmary combined we were assigned a big room, the most appreciated feature of which was a stove, It also had a look across a garden to the surrounding country, so that we were able to keep a close watch on incoming shells. We had to spend most of our time, however, getting caught up on reports; but when the order came to dive into the dugout there was nothing to do but dive.

The day -we arrived, the Town Major, notified the civilian population, who had been living under German rule for four years, that they must evacuate, since there were allied troops in the town. The Boches had allowed just 2 hours from the time they themselves evacuated, and promised to shell the town at the end of that time if the civilians had not left. When only a few hours of grace remained, the people began to collect their possessions. it was a curious lot of bundles, baskets, packages, and means of transportation, and an altogether pitiful procession that began to straggle back toward towns out of the danger zone. Nearly all the refugees were old men and old women, grandfathers and grandmothers. I saw a few young girls, but only one man under sixty, These people were trying to take with them everything that they possessed, with the exception of furniture. And they had no horses or mules or oxen just baby carriages (those were the lucky ones), wheelbarrows, and great wicker. carriers that they strapped to their backs. You would not believe how heavy some of the loads were.

It happened that quite a few of us had nothing that needed attention just then, and we did what we could to help. Half a dozen German prisoners were brought along and we transferred some big loads from the backs of old women to theirs. Sometimes we saw a wheelbarrow that was not quite full, and by offering to push it, got permission to add somebody else's pack. Two fellows carried a very aged and frail lady the whole distance to her friends in the next town.

Another woman, both of whose feet were malformed, hobbled along alone, at a snail's pace. Another was carrying as necessary to her future happiness half a dozen umbrellas, besides countless other things. Although leaving their homes and much that they valued, these refugees were remarkably self-contained and brave. The only hysteria I saw was at the start, when the order came through that they must go. Then it was the girls who were most excited. As it turned out, I don't think there was a single aged or infirm person that was not looked out for by the American soldiers, and relieved of a load that I think should have killed them. It shows how hardy these peasants are that they should even make the attempt.

One group that stood out from all the rest, and the only one containing a young man, comprised the husband and wife, a baby three days old, and another youngster too small to walk. The father, who looked anything but husky, had fastened a mattress to a large wheel-barrow. On this he had placed the mother and babe, and the small boy, and he was undertaking to push the whole outfit two kilometers over a rough road. They were taking with then, a small supply of food and some clothing. Four of us overtook this strange modern version of the flight into Egypt before the family had gone beyond the town. We "spelled" one another at the handles, two steadying the front of the barrow. At last we saw them all landed safely among friends. They insisted that we should take a can of their precious condensed milk as a souvenir of the incident.

Another interesting experience was that of the preceding night (the 6th). Just as it began to grow dark, which hereabouts, means five o'clock or earlier, we drew in to the edge of a good-sized town (Raucourt), only to be informed of a Divisional order that no troops should be quartered there during the night. They must get such shelter as they could in some shacks outside the town limits and be ready to move out at 6:30 the next morning. This prospect looked rather forlorn, so I insisted on going to the Headquarters and reporting to Capt. W (Wagner)--who very shortly received his promotion to Major. He had got stuck somewhere in the rear, together with the Regimental limousine; but the Adjutant kindly told us to fix ourselves up at Headquarters for the night. It turned out to be a very comfortable place, where we did not hit the hay or a board floor, but real mattresses.

First of all, we were interested in hunting up something to eat. Our rolling kitchens were miles back, and it looked as if we would go to bed hungry unless luck was with us. We heard that the Germans, who had been out of the town only a few hours, had set fire to a great bakery and storehouse. The fire had been brought under control, and a large quantity, hundreds of loaves, of rye broad had been rescued. Two Intelligence Department sergeants and I set out to hunt up the supply. We saw a light in the basement of a house and stopped to inquire the way. The people insisted that we should come in, and they then and there laid out a supper for us, including coffee and bread spread with apple butter and mincemeat, They were eager to show us the gratitude of people released from German bondage, and to tell us about their experiences.

The Boches had taken over their farms and then made the inhabitants work them for a franc and a half (30 cents) a day. This family proved to be one of many ready to give us a cordial welcome

They said that such supplies of good food as they had they owed to the Red Cross. I believe this experience impressed on us as nothing else could how worth while it is to help along the work of delivering these kindly folk from hard masters. After our unexpected Supper, we hunted up the great bakery, and helped to distribute bread to the whole regiment.

The news has just come to us that the German government has until tomorrow noon to decide whether they will comply with Marshal Foch's terms. If they do not give in now, they will find themselves being wiped off the face of the earth. Nothing can stop this advance.

(Written at La Faubourg, on the Mouse Opposite Mouzon)

November 17, 1918

What a grand finish it has been! It is hard to sense the significance of it, just as, for a long time, we could not realize how big the war really was. Of course, at once we wanted to know when we were going home. For the last week we have been alternately throwing up our caps in the prospect of leaving soon, and plumbing the depths of despair at counter rumors, These dark hints indicated that we might remain on indefinitely --to help clean up the front yards and the back yards and become part of an army of occupation. It seems to be pretty well assured now that this Division will not remain any longer than is absolutely necessary, as the President wants the National Army units returned to the United States. Since the 77th was the first such unit sent over, it is reasonable to expect that an effort will be made to get us back soon. But it would be foolish to raise hopes too high, counting on a reunion by Christmas time or anything of that sort. It might come to pass and then again it mightn't.

Perhaps it looks selfish for us to be so concerned about our own movements. We ought to be glad just to have the war over, and of course we are, I guess we really avoid thinking just how thankful we are that the Boche is really fini and that he realizes it. We were ready, if it was necessary, for a push on into German territory (actual Germany) and we had reached a point where shelling would be felt by many German civilian occupants of towns like Sedan. We heard that German women who had come to live in Sedan had made slaves, practically, of all the French women there. I always maintained that Fritz, if it came to a showdown such as the destruction of his own towns, would collapse.

A day after the Armistice went into effect, we started back, stopping for the night in a town (Oches) which we had passed through in the advance only a few days before. Then came an awful blow--another move the next day, but in the wrong direction. We marched partly east, but also undeniably north (to Beaumont). The following day, another hike, still in the wrong direction, accompanied by the rumor that we were to hike all the way to the Rhine, following up the German evacuation. But that is not the present prospect. In fact we wait every hour for orders to march, and we hope it will not be many weeks before we are crossing the Atlantic. It may be that I shall not be able to get mail through from now on, so don't be surprised if you don't hear. I expect there will be a warning whistle from some-where before we get in sight of Old Lady Liberty again.

I hope that the terrible epidemic is under control by now. I am afraid we have been so wrapped up in ourselves over here that we failed to realize what a time you have been having. It is a wonder some such plague has not struck us. The worst thing we have had to stand was prevalent digestive trouble.

I am having a hard time learning to eat sauerkraut. The Germans left barrels of it behind at this place, and the kitchens get the spoils and later we do. We are living in a group of shacks that used to be a German training camp. We have a mess hall that is reminiscent of Camp Upton.

It seems too good to be true that we don't have to put up the shutters any more at night, or avoid striking a match outdoors after dark; and we hope there will be no more hikes at unnatural hours, or tent-pitching on those very frosty nights. For a week there has been no noise more alarming than an explosion of dynamite. Just what this means after six months of bombs and shells I think you may guess.

At 11 o'clock on the 11th I happened to be on the main street of Haraucourt, A town crier was going from corner to corner, gathering a little knot of people each time, and reading off the same notice about the Armistice. The people seemed to take the news very calmly. Probably like us, they were rather skeptical of what looked like more rumors. Or else they had exhausted their stock of emotions. One night without shelling and we would all begin to believe this was something besides a trick. The refugees needed only one such night. In the morning they began to stream back, with all their goods, to Angecourt--the point of our farthest advance.

The name Angecourt, which I suppose, means "Angel Court," I shall always associate with a really diabolical experience. One afternoon two men from one of the companies brought in to us a fellow who, they said, had been acting "queer." They begged us to keep him overnight, and we agreed to let him sleep in the Infirmary. A, casual examination did not show anything wrong. We hunted up extra blankets and bedded him on the floor like the rest of us. In the middle of the night he got up and stumbled headlong over the row of us, and we woke up with a start, supposing that Jerry had come for us at last. We got a candle lit and persuaded our patient to quiet down. It was clear enough from the way he talked that he was out of his head. As soon as the room was dark again, he became uneasy., and we finally had to leave the light, although candles were precious,

We resolved to pack him off in haste in the morning, but as it turned out, we could not get an ambulance till nearly noon. In the meantime, the poor chap led us a lively chase. He had a way of vanishing like smoke when our backs were turned for a moment. Twice I had to hunt through the town for him, The first time I found him without cap or coat, though it was raining, with shoes untied and minus leggings. We all breathed a sigh of relief when he was installed in the ambulance, on the front seat where the driver could keep an eye on him. We didn't intend to have the Division Surgeon hear of a man from the Regiment who had been found wandering about, tagged by us for the hospital!