Various
History of Ambulance Company Number 139
WITH THE KITCHEN IN THE ARGONNE OFFENSIVE
For anyone to say that they derived any amount of happiness from being in the Argonne, other than our complete victory over the Boche, would probably be judged insane. According to the Mess Sergeant's version, however, a certain amount of joy may be had in not being threatened with one's life after serving the famous "Corn Willy" to men who were working in the midst of this hell.
We moved up the night before the drive and made our first stop the next morning at about 2:00 A. M. at a place mentioned before, behind a steep bank, where our supplies were unloaded from the trucks. These trucks were ordered to wait until later in the morning before moving nearer the lines. As the men were going in the drive at five o'clock that morning we borrowed a fire, and inside of a small hut, prepared some soup for them to have just before leaving.
They left about on time, but the trucks which were to report for our supplies, were delayed, so it was rather late before we started moving. When we did, however, we made fairly good time until we were held up in the woods by trucks that were stuck in the mud. We at last made it through, and catching up with the company that afternoon, unloaded our supplies and equipment and established our first kitchen, right back of Vacquois Hill.
We managed to get coffee made before dark, and our men began to come in a few at a time. Not all of them got there, however, but nevertheless we were busy feeding the most of the night, as everyone who came along wanted something to eat, and we tried to feed all who came.
The next morning, what men were there, moved on to Cheppy and we were told that transportation would come for us. We waited until that afternoon, and had just about concluded that we were left, when two men came down the road leading a couple of pack mules. We were informed that this was our transportation. Accordingly, we loaded all that was possible on the mules and started for Cheppy. Our kitchen now consisted mainly of a G. I. coffee can, and such rations as we, ourselves, could carry.
We arrived in Cheppy in time to cook supper for the men and we continued to cook as long as it was light, as there were scores of men to be fed and we endeavored to feed all who came. The greatest efforts bore little fruit, however, and most of the men received nothing hot until they came out of the drive. Our pack mules made another trip that night, bringing up a few rations and some food which we were very glad to get, being almost out.
The next morning we moved up past Very, using an ambulance for what few supplies we had, and set up a kitchen alongside a captured six-inch German gun which later proved to be a rather disagreeable location, as Jerry threw over a few H. E. trying to put it out of commission. The artillery, having come up and started a barrage, left us in a rather noisy place, also.
Here the supply section of our train managed to get a few rations up to us. We cooked and served all that day and night, but were unable to take care of all those wanting to be fed. It seemed to be impossible to secure enough transportation.
The company moved on to Charpentry that afternoon and we were again informed that a transport wagon would pick up our supplies and kitchen and for us to follow. As usual, the wagon did not arrive, and we were again left to do the best we could.
In the meantime part of our supplies and equipment which we left back at Vacquois, came up in a mule drawn ambulance, which we sent on to Charpentry that night. We waited, however, for the transportation which was to move us from our present location and as has already been mentioned, it never came. The next morning we divided our force, part going on to Charpentry and the rest remaining to cook and serve the remainder of our rations which was not hard to do. All we had was a little coffee and bread.
Our kitchen in Charpentry was located in a sort of a court yard, near the buildings in which were located the dressing stations. Here we located an iron boiler, that the Germans had left in their hasty retreat, which helped us out quite a lot in cooking. Things were going fine here, in fact, too good to last. We had plenty of rations and had served two fairly good meals, when things began to happen. Jerry got it into his head that Dressing Stations and kitchens were not essential in a successful drive and right away started trying to eliminate them. A short time after he had started trying to put this idea into effect, we received orders to retire. This order probably saved a little work for the burying squad, as far as the kitchen force was concerned, as about fifteen minutes after leaving, a few direct hits were scored, scattering our kitchen and supplies to the four winds.
We now moved back to Varennes, picking up as much of our equipment at Very as we could and taking it back with us. We stayed in Varennes for almost two days, cooking what we could in a much dilapidated stove that was in one of the dugouts. Our field range reached us just as we were leaving for Bourelles. We arrived there in time to set up for supper, but had to tear it down that night as we moved back to Neuvilly. Here we were relieved and moved out, and back to billets and a small French kitchen. Although small, it seemed to us all that anyone could ask for in the kitchen line, after having put in a week of trying to cook for a company of men with hardly anything more than two flat rocks and a coffee can.
CITATIONS AND CASUALTIES
The fact that some of the men of Ambulance Company 139 were cited, does not indicate that they were more courageous or devoted to duty than those not so mentioned. The work of the entire company showed an efficiency, and disregard for personal danger, of the very highest order. Many acts of individual heroism passed unnoticed. The following is an extract from General Order No. 82, October 14th, Hqs. 35th Division:
"The Division Commander takes pleasure in citing in General Orders, the following named officers and enlisted men for effective, efficient and courageous work during the six days' battle from September 26th to October 1st, 1918."
Private Glen B. Smith, M. D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 29th, near Chaudron Farm. For remaining under continuous shell and machine gun fire for a considerable time more than required by his orders, caring for the wounded under the most intense shell and machine gun fire.
Sergeant Junior Briggs, M.D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 29th, near Chaudron Farm. For remaining under continuous shell and machine gun fire for a considerable time more than required by his orders, caring for the wounded under the most intense shell and machine gun fire.
Private Lloyd Richmond, M.D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 29th, near Chaudron Farm. On account of artillery and machine gun fire, Private Richmond remained at his post and cared for the wounded until he was himself wounded by a shell which killed two other wounded men.
Sergeant Kenneth W. Pringle, M.D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 28th and 29th this non-commissioned officer, of his own accord and under extremely heavy shell fire, found and evacuated many wounded.
First Lieutenant Richard T. Speck, M.D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 30th, near Charpentry. For effective, efficient and courageous work in collecting wounded in the field north of Charpentry with detachment of mule drawn ambulances, under heavy artillery and machine gun fire and repeated aeroplane attacks.
First Lieutenant Bret V. Bates, M.D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 30th, near Charpentry. For efficient, effective and courageous work in the open field with a detachment of mule drawn ambulances under heavy artillery and machine gun fire.
Sergeant 1st Class Charles G. Rowland, M. D., Ambulance Co. 139, September 29th near Charpentry. While his company was on the march from Charpentry to Varennes, Sergeant Rowland stopped to attend a truck driver who had been struck by a shell. Disregarding all personal danger, he passed through a curtain of artillery fire and dressed the wounded man. During the four days at the dressing station, the work of Sergeant Rowland was of the highest order of efficiency.
The following men in the detachment of Ambulance Company 139, 110th Sanitary Train, for courage and devotion to duty under intense fire while acting as litter bearers on the morning of September 30th, 1918:
Wagoner Jacob C. Weaverling
Pvt. Stephen F. McCormick
Pvt. 1cl. George G. Crowley
Pvt. 1cl. Fay A. Downing
Pvt. 1cl. Joe Barnes
Pvt. John J. Fisher
Pvt. Charles F. Blaker
Pvt. Harry T. Douglass
Pvt. Garland Freeman
Pvt. William W. Williams
Pvt. Louis J. Fisher
Pvt. John R. Fulmer
Pvt. Robert A. Still
Pvt. John P. Feeney
Casualties – Ambulance Company 139, during the five days in the Argonne with our own division, and the forty-eight hours attached to the First Division, came out of battle without a death. Private Lloyd Richmond, on the night of September 29th, while taking care of some wounded men under intense shell and machine gun fire at Chaudron Farm, was wounded in seven different places.
The following named men were gassed while attached to the First Division at Charpentry:
Lt. George Monteith, Sgt. Clarence Falconer, Pvt. Edward DeTalent, Pvt. Wilson Meyers, Lt. Bret V. Bates, Sgt. Ernest Stalcup, Pvt. Kenneth S. Brown, Pvt. Jesse Dennis, Pvt. Lester A. Brogan, Pvt. Jesse Casteel, Pvt. William Peterson, Pvt. Rollo C. Dugan.
THE STAY IN VAUBECOURT
On coming from the Argonne offensive on October 5th, the Sanitary Train moved to Vaubecourt, a city whose blocks of ruins told plainer than words the story of its bombardment in the earlier days of the war. But, complete as was the destruction of some parts of the city other parts escaped harm, and in this quarter we found a comfortable home in a large barn, well equipped with bunks.
The memory of our stay in Vaubecourt to most of us is not a pleasant one. Sick, tired, hungry, dirty, clothing torn and stained with mud and blood, and equipment lost, the men of our company certainly did not have the appearance of spic and span soldiers of Uncle Sam. A few hours of rest, with good food and plenty of soap and water did much to better conditions, but the effects of the previous days at the front were not at once thrown off. Sickness prevailed, hardly a man escaping it in some degree, and the number sent each day to the hospital was probably the largest at any time in the history of the company. Here for the first time in months, we heard the once famous sound of the bugle, the companies standing all calls.
But in the midst of this, there was one day of our Vaubecourt stay that stood out as one of the brightest in our experience. It was the day the news arrived that Germany, surrounded by an unbreakable band of fire and steel, and realizing the inevitable, had asked for peace terms. To us who had just emerged from the horrors of the Argonne, the news seemed like the first streak of morning light shining through the darkness. However, the constant rumbling of the distant artillery and the steady procession of aeroplanes overhead, kept us from becoming too optimistic. Yet the feeling seemed to remain that it was the beginning of the end, and that peace could not be far distant.
The fact that the Hun was at last, not asking, but begging for a cessation of hostilities, in the name of her people, gave us renewed spirits. We were further cheered by the fact that the entire Sanitary Train had been commended for its work in the Argonne by our own Divisional Commander, as well as by the Commanding General of the division that relieved us. The work in battle had been without fault, but at this time we were informed that discipline was very lax, and instead of the much needed rest, we were put through a period of training which lasted until the division relieved a division of French in a sector north of Verdun.
THE VERDUN FRONT
While at Vaubecourt we received word that we were to go to the front again, and that news surprised us not a little, because of the fact that we had only been out of the Argonne some two weeks.
On October 15th, the division occupied a new sector east of Verdun, extending from near Fresnes to Eix. As usual, Ambulance Company 139 took position near the front lines, to evacuate the division. On October 16th, headquarters of the company was located at Fontaine Brilliante, a very beautifully situated triage near Somme-Dieue. This triage evidently had been a most busy place during the great drive on Verdun in 1916. Immense Red Crosses were painted on the tops of the various buildings, and two very ingenious Red Crosses were constructed upon the hillside, of small red and white stones. These were placed there to protect the triage from Boche airplanes.
Immediately upon arrival at Fontaine Brilliante, Lt. Monteith, with a detachment of twenty-six men, started to the front and established a dressing station at Deramee. Two cooks were with the detachment, and a kitchen was set up in the same building with the dressing station. Rations were drawn from the first battalion of the 110th Engineers and it was not a rare thing to have hot cakes for breakfast. In the kitchen was a wire cage which could be locked, and which looked for all the world like a large rat trap. One night the cooks had written several letters to their wives and put them into this cage and locked it. The rats, which had already carried away some very sizable articles, including dippers, frying pans and what-nots, got the letters out of the cage in some magic way that night, and to this day those two cooks are marveling at the cleverness of French rats.
Litter and ambulance posts were placed at Tunis, Bellvue Farm and Joffre. There were a few camps near, which were merely billeting places for soldiers in reserve, and for supply organizations of the line troops. They were all in easy shelling distance for the Germans, in fact, Deramee was so close to the lines that one could hear the report of the guns an instant before the shells would come over.
The forts around Verdun were very interesting. There were two within two kilometres of Deramee, one named Fort Deramee, and the other Fort Roselier. These forts were situated on points commanding a view of all the surrounding country. They were neatly concealed from aerial observation, and one might easily walk squarely into one before he noticed it. They were most formidably constructed of reinforced concrete, and were built deep into the ground. Some were encircled by a moat over which were heavy draw bridges, and beyond the moat a mass of barbed wire entanglements encircled the entire defense. There were over forty of these forts around Verdun, all garrisoned by the French. A look at these mighty bulwarks told at once why the Germans could not pass.
On October 8th, another section to the north, extending to Vaux, was taken over by the division, and another dressing station, in charge of Lt. Vardon with fifteen men, was established at Vaux. At first dependence was placed upon four G. M. C. ambulances of Ambulance Co. 138 to do all of the evacuating, but later S. S. U. 526 was assigned for this work. All cases were taken to Field Hospital 139, at Fontaine Brilliante.
Some mention of the old battlefield near Vaux must be made. Fort Vaux was taken by the Germans after a fierce and uninterrupted cannonading lasting from March 12th to April 9th, 1916. Fort Avocourt and the Mort-Homme also succumbed to the terrific onslaught of the Hun on April 10th. After five months of furious fighting, in which the Germans lost over a half million men, the French retook these important positions. Just back from the dressing station an eighth of a mile is a famous hill of the Verdun battle. A look at this barren hill filled one with awe, for there isn't a tree, not even a stump, standing, and not a square foot of ground that has not been torn by shell fire. The ground is simply pulverized. There are helmets (French and German), old rifles, cart wheels, unexploded shells, clothing and most everything in the line of war equipment lying around on the ground, just as it was left after that terrible struggle. Bones of every part of the human body could be found in almost any numbers. One could pick up a helmet with a skull in it, or a shoe with the bones of a foot in it. Standing at the bottom of this hill, one could look up at the head of the valley and see a German battery, sitting just as it had been deserted after her defeat in 1916. The wood that was brought in from the fallen timber was literally filled with shrapnel.
The Vaux detail, when not busy, spent most of its time seeing the many interesting places, even though at times it was a bit dangerous. From the hill back of the dressing station one could see the Germans shelling Ft. Douamont, two miles away. A very strange impression it left on one, too. First the report of the German guns would be heard, and in an instant the shell would burst near the fort, throwing dirt and rock high into the air. Then the sound of the shell, which had already bursted, could be heard going through the air.
While there were not many casualties through Vaux, over seven hundred came through Deramee. The division had just been filled up with men who had not been in France over a month or so, and who had not trained longer than that in the States. The trenches of Verdun, which were always filled with water and mud, seemed to be too much for them, and many cases of influenza and pneumonia developed.
We had many gas cases, too, at Deramee. In one day a hundred and six gas patients came through the dressing station. It was mostly mustard gas, and the patients would come in by the ambulance load, temporarily blind and feeling miserable. We could only bathe their eyes with a sodium bi-carbonate solution, and use the sag-paste freely. During this rush the only available ambulances were those of the S. S. U. 526, and the drivers of that unit not being familiar with the roads, Corporals O'Dowd and Bailey were kept busy guiding them around. We worked well after midnight on that particular day before all the patients were evacuated. The total number of gas patients numbered well over two hundred.
A sergeant and three men were stationed at Bellevue Ferme, a relay station between Derame and Vaux. This station was situated on a hill only a short distance from Verdun, and one could get a splendid view of the old battered city from this place. There were eleven big naval guns down below Bellevue on a narrow gage railway, and they surely made some music when they fired. They drew fire from the Germans, too, but no sooner would the Germans locate them than they were moved along the track to another place.
Verdun was very close to the different stations, and many of us visited the silent old city. One had only to take one look at that city to realize that one of the mightiest struggles of human history took place for its possession. Petain, the great French leader, won an immortal place among military leaders for the defense of that city in 1916, and a glance at the battlefield would convince one absolutely that he meant those words "On ne passe pas." The cathedral in Verdun was badly damaged; fourteen holes in one side of the building were counted and the roof had three big gaps in it, and while the cathedral can be repaired, yet its shell marks will be there forever. Another interesting thing connected with Verdun is its underground city, capable of accommodating forty-two thousand, and absolutely shell proof. The Germans shelled Verdun regularly, dropping shells on certain crossroads and buildings at exact intervals. One couldn't tarry in one place in that city, even if he cared to, because an M. P. would firmly suggest "move along."
We were on the Verdun front when Austria capitulated, and were almost fighting for newspapers in order to get the details. The question in everyone's mind during our last days at Verdun was "How long will Germany hold out?" We left Deramee on November 6th, having been relieved by the "Wildcats," a division of soldiers not soon to be forgotten, and we little knew that we had been on our last front.