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A History of Pittsburg and Western Pennsylvania Troops in the War
By John V. Hanlon (Copyright 1919 by The Pittsburg Press)
Chapter XIII
(The Pittsburg Press, Sunday, March 30, 1919, pages 78-79)
Names in this chapter: Chronkhite, Waldron, Jones, Goodwyn, Wright, Rhoads,
Kerigan, Foreman, Stilwell, Doble, Harding, Keller, Jamerson, Warrilow, Wise,
Brett, Buchan, Payton, Rothewell, Hawes, Ferris, Knowles, Welsh, Tidball,
Barringer, Spalding, King, O’Mahoney, Edit, Whitaker, Schelssinger, Marvin,
Foley, Baker, Hollis, Bundy
THE GREAT ARGONNE-MEUSE OFFENSIVE BY THE FIRST AMERICAN
ARMY WHICH EVENTUALLY BROKE THE BACK OF THE GERMAN MILITARY MACHING WAS THE
CROWNING FEATURE OF THE WAR AND OUR BOYS FROM PITTSBURGH AND WESTERN
PENNSYLVANIA HAD A LARGE SHARE IN BOTH THE WORK AND THE GLORY. THE EIGHTIETH
DIVISION WHICH TRAINED AT CAMP LEE AND WAS MADE UP LARELY OF WESTERN
PENNSYLVANIA LADS ENTERED THE CONFLICE AT THIS TIME ALONG WITH THE SEASONED
TWENTY-EIGHTH DIVISION AND THE SELECTIVE SERVICE MEN SOON PROVED THAT THEY, TOO,
WERE OF THAT FAMOUS OLD KEYSTONE FIGHTING STOCK. THE EIGHTIETH HAD RECEIVED SOME
FRONT LINE EXPERIENXE WHILE IN TRAINING WITH THE BRITISH, BUT AT THE ARGONNE THE
MEN RECEIVED THEIR FIRST REAL BAPTISM OF FIRE.
Preparatory for the great Argonne-Meuse offensive by
the First American army another division composed for the most part of Pittsburg
and Western Pennsylvania selective service men was sent to join the First
American army to battle along the Twenty-eighth division. This was the Eightieth
division, which trained at Camp Lee, Virginia. The Three Hundred and Nineteenth
and Three Hundred and Twentieth infantry regiments of this division were made up
almost entirely of men from this section, although many more were scattered
throughout every part of the unit.
The division broke camp at Lee about midnight of May
23, 1918, and hiked down to the James river. Boats transported the division to
Newport News. Troop transports were waiting and the troops put out to sea about
3 o’clock in the afternoon of Sunday, May 26. The crossing was uneventful and
after 14 days at sea the Pennsylvanians landed in Bordeaux, France.
Then the intensive finishing preparations for the
battle front were begun and the boys were put through every conceivable form of
tactics. It was train, train, train from that time until the division was
declared ready to meet the Hun.
After a week at Bordeaux the division entrained for
Calais, where it encamped in an English rest camp. After four days there it was
taken to Hesdeuel and billeted in barns at Hesdin l’ Abbe. After two days the
men moved out into their tents. Almost three weeks were spent at Hesdin l’ Abbe.
The place was close to Bolougne, and several night
[sic] there we watched the Hun aviators bomb the town. After marching to Desores
and Samre several times, and attending musketry school at Carle, the infantry
entrained for Boquenaisan and hiked to Ivergny, where the regiments remained for
three weeks. From Ivergny the boys hiked through Sas Lst. Leger to Saulty, from
where they made several trips to the front line trenches in front of Blaiseville,
just south of Arrus. Several trips were also made into the lines at Bausart, and
at times they were kept busy dodging shells.
The course of introduction on the Arras front was with
the British and various platoons and companies sent into the front line trenches
at times had considerable actual battle experience as the result of desultory
raids and other clashes between the British and the enemy. In this way our boys
were prepared to perform in the Argonne.
The Eightieth was in line and ready to tackle anything
the enemy had to offer when the word was given for the great Argonne-Meuse
offensive.
A list of the divisional units and the division and
unit commanders follows:
EIGHTIETH DIVISION.
Maj. Gen. Adelbert Cronkhite, Commanding.
Chief of staff Col. William H. Waldron
Adjt. Gen Maj. Charles H. Jones
Inspector Gen. Maj. Albert C. Goodwyn
Judge Adv. Gen. Maj. Barry Wright
Surg. Gen. Col. Thomas L. Rhoads
Ordnance Officer Maj. Stephen E. Kerigan
Div. Q.M. Lt. Col. Albert W. Foreman
Intelligence Officer Maj. J. W. Stilwell
Aid Capt. Armstead M. Doble
Aid Second Lieut. Horace Harding
INFANTRY
One Hundred and Fifty-ninth Brigade of Infantry – Brig Gen. George H. Jamerson
317th Regt. – Charles Keller
318th Regt. – Col. Ulysses G. Warrilow
314th Mach. Gun Batt. – Maj. Jennings C. Wise
One Hundred and Sixtieth Brigade of Infantry – Brig. Gen. Lloyd M. Brett
310th Regt. – Col. Fred Buchan
320th Regt. – Col. E.G. Payton
315th Mach. Gun Batt. – Lieut. Col. Thomas A. Rothwell
Capt. Clinton T. Bundy
ARTILLERY
One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Brigade of Artillery – Lieut. Col. George B. Hawes,
Jr.
313th Regt. – Col. Charles J. Ferris
314th Regt. – Col. Robert S. Welsh
315th Regt. – Lieut. Col. William Tidball
305th Trench Mortar Batt. – Capt. Paul B. Barringer, Jr.
ENGINEERS
305th Regt. – Col. George R. Spalding
SIGNAL
305th Field Signal Batt. – Maj. Thomas I. King
TRAINS
305th Supply Train – Maj. Jeremiah W. O’Mahoney
305th Sanitary Train – Lieut. Col. Elliott B. Edie
305th Ammunition Train – Lieut. Col. Orlo C. Whitaker
305th Engineer Train – Capt. Jacob Schlessinger
DIVISION UNITS
Headquarters Troop – Capt. George Marvin
313 Mach. Gun Batt – Lieut. Col. Oscar Foley
And thus, with the stage set for the offensive which
was designed to break the backbone of the German military machine and force an
early termination of the war, and with Pennsylvania’s two divisions ready, one a
thoroughly tried and tested division of the highest type of shock troops, and
the other trained to the minute and shortly to be designated as a “red”
division, the zero hour arrived.
But let an eye witness describe that wonderful scene
wherein the Americans gained the victor’s wreath, Thomas M. Johnson, staff
correspondent of THE PRESS, stood at a vantage point where he could view the
great panorama of battle and he wrote:
“In the great amphitheater of the Meuse heights, with
the citadel and forts of Verdun looking down, the American First Army this
morning struck its second blow at the enemy.
“Before the blue gray mists of early morning had risen
khaki clad lads swept beyond the famous battleground, over line after line of
German trenches. They were beyond Varennes, Montfaucon and Dannevou, where the
trenches were fewer and it is almost open country. They were writing new
American history where ‘They shall not pass’ was born. Giving way before them
are the troops of the crown prince. Thousands who could not escape are
prisoners, while the American artillery has crossed the famous brook Forges, nor
firing from the old German trenches.
“Positions that the Germans have held since the big
drive of 1916 have fallen before the Americans, at some places without the loss
of a single man.
“At the first onrush our troops stormed Malancourt,
Bethincourt, and Forges of immortal memory.
“The Americans captured the German first and second
positions at Dannevou, Mont Faucon and Varennes.
“Attacking the third position they overpowered with
slight difficulty the German forces, which included Prussian guards, who gave
resistance to screen the retirement northward which already commenced.
“The way for the attack was blazed by a hurricane of
shell fire which commenced at 11:30 last night and reached its climax at 2:30
this morning. Using liquid fire, a smoke screen and fleets of tanks manned by
Americans, they captured prisoners and guns.
U.S. GAS DEADLY
“Gen. Pershing commanded the assault and Secretary
Baker watched the battle from one of the Verdun fronts. Some of the finest
fighting of all was done by Pennsylvania, Kansas and Missouri troops who smashed
the Prussian guards and forced their way up the valley of the Aire, capturing
Varennes and the fortress of Vauquois Height with its miles of subterranean
galleries, where the Germans lay thick, overcome by our gas.
“The infantry and tanks took Varennes, while the
capture of Montfaucon, protected by deep trenches, was accomplished with the aid
of these monsters driven by Americans, pushing through the mists that swathed
the ground. The air was filled with the clamor of thousands of thousands of
guns, great and small, and the Forest of Hesse was packed with American
artillery when at 11:30 p.m. the first great flash and flickering fireflies’
light ushered in the concentrated bombardment that paved the way for the attack.
From Fort De Marre, one of the famous Verdun fortifications, and later from the
even more famous Morthomme Hill, THE PRESS correspondent saw the whole panorama
of the Meuse heights and valleys filled with the smoke of our guns and on the
horizon the taller columns of smoke from the German ammunition and supply dumps
which were burning.
“The infantry went forward, seemingly crawling yet
actually moving rapidly, for our artillerymen nearby were already complaining
that the infantry had got so far that it was unsafe for them to continue firing.
A little earlier Secretary Baker, observing the battle from Fort De Marre, stood
spellbound at the sight of the smoke of our shells boiling up from the valleys.
“On the whole 20-mile front of the attack from the
western edge of the Argonne forest to the west bank of Meuse river, the progress
was rapid and our objectives were gained on schedule time or ahead of schedule.
“The Germans made a wild resistance in many places, but
in others only a machine gun screen was encountered. As I watched from the hill
the drumming sound died out, and the infantry pushed on.
“A little before noon the early, low-hanging mists
lifted and the sky remained cloudless and blue throughout the day, giving a
chance to the myriad American and French aeroplanes which drove through the air
singly or in flocks, maintaining complete mastery despite the later attempts of
the boche to wrest the supremacy from them. Within the first hours a score of
the Hun aeroplanes had been brought down.
“Besides their blindness in the air, the Germans seem
to have worked in the dark for two other reasons, the first of which is that our
St. Mihiel attack drew their attention towards Metz and the second that during
the first two hours our artillery fire was concentrated on their positions east
of the Meuse, so that they thought the attack was coming westward. Still,
yesterday the Germans moved their artillery out of the sector before us. Some of
the prisoners say they knew of the attack four days in advance and others are
amazed to find Americans attacking them.
TIMELY AID BY TANKS
“There was some heavy fighting at the Fayel farm, near
Mantfaucon, but the tanks came up in time and helped the infantry, who were
aided also by flame throwers.
“From all sections of the front comes the report that
the German artillery fire was light while for every enemy shell which burst, we
saw a hundred from the guns of the allies. Some divisions found German
resistance not especially fierce. This is regarded as remarkable, for the
Americans are attacking a country which is extremely difficult. The heights of
the Meuse are a contract succession of valleys, hills and ravines, often heavily
wooded and strongly entrenched.
“All this ground now swarms with the greatest American
army ever assembled – veterans of the Marne, the Ourcz, the Vesle and St. Mihiel,
intermingled with the newer troops eager to win their first laurels.
“They are all pressing forward, young in spirit. One of
the wonders of Verdun is this road which is marked by signs worded in English
‘Keep to the right,’ and American policemen direct its traffic. It seems that
the spirit of those weary older men, clad in faded light blue, who went down
that road to die looks down upon these young Americans beneath.
“There were two great places in Verdun from which to
see the attack as it gradually emerged from the mist. The first of these was the
fort De Arrme, which lies straight across the Meuse from the famous Vaux Donau
Mont, and the second is Morthomme Hill, which means dead man’s hill and which is
situated to the north of fort De Marres
“To reach fort De Marres one ascends a hill that once
was supposed to be the abode of cavemen and monsters. The fort itself is built
firmly of masonry and concrete and is but little damaged from the shelling it
received when the boche held Morthomme hill three miles away. It is held by a
French garrison, but on the highest peak of its fortification were artillerymen
from Buffalo who were acting as observers, watching for the bursts of American
shells falling beyond the Brook of Forges which two years ago ran red.
BARRAGE VISIBLE
“From the observatory of Fort De Marres there is a
broad view unfolded through the thick ground mist which filled the valleys with
seemingly dark clouds. Seemingly on the horizon, but in reality only four or
five miles away, dark smoke dimmed everything. It was the smoke of our shells
mingled with the smoke or our barrage. In front and little to the left was
Morthomme, and still further beyond was Hill 304.
“As the mists lifted more, the burst of our shells
became more plain and were striking the German positions on the east bank of the
Meuse. Our observer pointed out a little knoll, known to be a German observation
post. Our shells were bursting all about, but the few boche shells that came
near us struck far down the slope. Thus were the German gunners smothered by the
millions of shells and the gas that we sent wherever we knew that their
batteries were place.
“Off on the left, toward Montfaucon and Varennes, came
the dread drumming of the machine guns which seems to bode ill for our men, but
a brief message which came back reassured us that the score of machine-gunners
were in the Melancourt wood, which was being pinched out by the converging
advance upon Montfaucon. That large town itself stood out upon its hill like a
lighthouse, with spurts of our shell bursts all about it.
INFANTRY ADVANCES
“The thick mists prevented our seeing the first waves
of our advancing infantry, but beneath us we could see crawling across the
valley some of the supports with the machine gun carts and the wagons. The whole
scene of the war was curiously peaceful. Before noon, however, many of our guns
had ceased firing because the infantrymen had gone beyond their range, while
whatever firing the German artillery was doing seemed to be on the front line.
The sausage balloons hung over head in bunches like clustering grapes. Never
before were they so thick and undisturbed, our aeroplanes were everywhere,
swooping low to drop messages. Not far away one saw that they were practically
all marked with the white centered target of the American air service.
“From the top of Morthomme Hill, the top of which is
simply skinned leaving a spot miles in area on which nothing grows, a better
view of the brooks and gorges was obtainable. Some distance beyond one could see
Americans hurling guns across the brooks and a little later the heavy traffic
followed. While at this time just entering from the mist which still clung,
although it was thinner, could be seen the first wave of our infantry advancing
along the bank of the Meuse. They were apparently as undisturbed as though they
were on a drill ground.”
IT WAS SLOW WORK
After the first tempestuous rush there was no swift
movement. The Yanks gnawed their way to the vaunted Kriemhielde line, hacked and
howed their way through it, overcoming thousands of machine guns, beset by every
form of Hun pestilence. Even conquered ground they found treacherous. The
Germans had planted huge mines of which fuses were acid, timed to eat through a
canister days after the Germans had gone and touch off the explosive to send
scores of Americans to hospitals or to soldiers’ graves.
To the Americans, not bursting fresh into battle, as
they had done at Chateau-Thierry, but sated and seasoned by a long summer of
continuous campaigning, fell the tough unspectacular problem of the whole
western front. While the world hung spellbound on the France-British successes
in the west and north, with their great bounds forward after the retreating
Germans, relatively little attention was given to the action northwest of
Verdun, and not until the close of hostilities did American begin to waken to
the fact it was precisely this slow, solid pounding, this bulldog pertinacity of
the Americans, that had made possible that startling withdrawal in the north.
So vital was the action in the Argonne that the best
divisions the German high command could muster were sent there, and, once there,
were chewed to bits by the American machine, thus making possible the rapid
advances of the allies on other parts of the long front.
Capt. Samuel A. Hollis
FOUGHT HARD FOR GAINS
The Pennsylvania men looked back almost longingly to
what they had regarded at the time as hard, rough days along the Marne, the
Ourcq and the Vesle. In prospective, and from the midst of the Argonne fighting,
it looked almost like child’s play. Back home over the cables came the simple
announcement that a certain position had been taken. Followers of the war news
got out their maps, and observed that this marked an advance of only a mile or
so in three or four days, and more than one asked: “What is wrong with
Pershing’s men?” It was difficult to understand why the men who leaped forward
so magnificently from the Marne to the Aisne, traveling many miles in a day,
should now be so slow, while their co-belligerents on others parts of the front
were advancing steadily and rapidly.
A very few minutes spent with any man who was in the
Argonne ought to suffice as an answer. Soldiers who were in the St. Mihiel
thrust and also in the Argonne, coined an epigram. It was “A meter in the
Argonne is worth a mile at St. Mihiel.” The cable message of a few words nearly
always covered many hours, sometimes days, of heroic endeavor, hard,
back-breaking labor, heart-straining hardship and the lavish expenditure of
boundless nervous energy to say nothing of what it means to the hospital forces
behind the lines and to the burial details.
Sept. 24, division headquarters of the Twenty-eighth
moved up to a point less than two miles back of the front lines, occupying old,
long-abandoned French dugouts. That evening Maj. Gen. Charles H. Muir, the
division commander, appeared unexpectedly in the lines and walked about for some
time, observing the disposition of the troops.
With the Iron Division now completely assembled, and
every part working with the smoothness of a clock, each performing its necessary
and vital function to the other, the big unit moved with unusual celerity from
the Aisne plateau forward into the western battle line, to engage in one of the
greatest battles the world has ever known, during which the artillery brigade,
of which the Iron Division boasted, laid down the so called “million dollar
barrage,” for it is estimated by officers and men alike, that this barrage, the
mightiest, and, considered from the standpoint of difficulty encountered, the
most successful ever fired in the world war, cost at least this amount of money.
The advance from the Aisne plateau was somewhat
hampered by the presence of the artillery brigade, as the heavy guns could be
moved only by night, and at day break had to be camouflaged to prevent discovery
by the watchful eyes of enemy aviators. In the fight against time, the division
impeded by its artillery, covered a distance of 30 miles in the space of one
night, which is record time, especially when nothing but the solitary moon
afforded light in the open lands, while travel through forests, was accomplished
in almost total darkness. To have a light of any kind burning, meant a possible
discovery, as the enemy aviators made frequent night forays. The lighting of a
cigarette or pipe was strictly forbidden unless done with the utmost care and
under cover.
Daybreak always found the division carefully hidden.
When it rained, soldiers and horses alike, felt gloomy, for they each knew that
with the sinking of the sun, the task ahead would be harder. But their spirit
never faltered. It was dogged determination that pulled the caissons with their
full ammunition boxes through mud hub-deep, down a hill, through a valley, up a
hill, across a level space, through a dense forest, over a stream and ever
onward until day would again bring it s rest. Added to the rain would be the
possibility of no moon, and the night would be blacker than ever. Patrols send
ahead guided the artillery by means of the ghost-like, phosphorescent glow, from
radium wrist watch dials. It was uncanny the way these tiny bits of mechanism
could be seen in the dense atmosphere of darkness. They served their purpose
well.
At last, after many nights of this sort of travel, the
artillery reached its destined point in the heavy forest, from which the first
bombardment in the big offensive movement was to take place. The infantry was
several miles ahead, placing full confidence in its artillery to lay down an
effective barrage, beneath which it might advance against the enemy positions.
NEW DIFFICULTY OVERCOME
Concealment of the artillery positions in an engagement
is regarded as one of the most vital points to be considered. To have cut down
trees, and cleared spaces in the forest, in which to set the heavy guns, would
have been utter foolishness, for enemy air observers were quick to see these
openings, and immediately, before the batteries of the “Iron Division” could
open fire, would have determined the range, and put them out of commission. To
overcome this difficulty, engineers of the division found it necessary to say
many trees partially through, and wire them rigidly together to prevent falling
until the time came when the various batteries could open fire. In this manner
the positions were so well concealed that not the keenest eye could detect their
hiding place. A total of over a thousand trees were cut and wired together in
this manner.
Capt. Josiah L. Reese
THE BOMBARDMENT COMMENCES
Within easy range of our guns lay the ramparts of the
enemy positions. At dusk on the night of Sept. 25, artillerymen cut the wires
supporting the trees, and the monarchs of the earth, many of them centuries old,
fell crashing to the ground, leaving the space cleared for the direct fire of
the heavy guns. With everything in readiness, every man in his position,
lanyards in hand, stocks of ammunition piled high in the rear of the pieces, the
moments dragged. They were tense moments, the nerves of every man tingling with
excitement, muscles itching for action.
Hours passed. At last at 11:30 o’clock, farm down the
line the signal rifle barked. It was only a faint report, yet it was heard
distinctly. The echo was terrific.
An instant of time did not elapse until the great guns roared forth and sent
their messengers of death hurtling and whistling through the air overhead.
Hundreds of guns were used, ranging in size from the light field artillery to
the big naval guns which fired a shell sixteen inches in diameter. Along the 54
mile front there were 3,000 guns, of which the Twenty-eighth supplied its
recognized number. The barrage beginning at 11 o’clock that night, lasted many
hours. The cost of the shells hurled, far exceeded a million dollars, but
because of the magnanimity of the expression it has become known as “the million
dollar barrage.” The intensity of “drum fire” was exceeded. It was a continuous
roar, and with the cannon muzzles belching flame and smoke, the area for miles
about, took on the aspect of a huge forest conflagration.
Shortly before morning a Trench Mortar Battery,
consisting of 12, ugly, squat weapons, under Capt. Ralph W. Knowles, took up a
position a little in advance of the artillery, and just to the rear of the
infantry, which was patiently waiting. It was the purpose of the trench mortars
to clear the ground of any obstacle that would be an impediment to the advancing
foot soldiers.
ZERO HOUR FOR INFANTRY
As the gray dawn arrived, on the 26th, cold and damp,
the artillery fire increased in intensity somewhat, and at 5:30 o’clock
infantrymen emerged from their places of concealment and went over. The
so-called “zero” hour is a dreaded moment to the soldier for it means that he is
going out into the open to face the guns of the enemy. It is far from a pleasant
task, but the fighting blood holds sway over the minds and nerves of the men.
There are few who do not go over with a prayer on their lips. The waiting is
nerve racking. Officers as well as privates feel a sort of nauseating sickness,
for death or a serious wound appears inevitable. There can be no faltering,
every man is a component part of the machine. It is duty that must be fulfilled.
Hysteria prevails in many cases. Here and there along the line. Some soldier,
with his thoughts of loved ones at home, will break forth with incoherent
mutterings. More stable comrades comfort him. It is not cowardice, only a
weakness found in all human beings when facing death.
The clocks of officers who are to start the advance
into the open are all carefully times together previous to the attack, so that
when the zero hour arrives the action may be harmonious all along the line.
All signs of fear disappear when the signal is given.
Those who have experienced the weakness of fear are instilled with new strength.
The fighting spirit comes out stronger, and with bull-dog determination to do or
die, they go over the top.
The old National Guard of Pennsylvania was only one of
the many divisions that participated in the Argonne forest advance. The front
extended for 54 miles from the Meuse clear over to the Champagne, and formed a
connecting like with the rest of the flaming western front. The American army
along covered 20 miles of the attacking front, while to the west was Gen.
Gouraud’s French army, and beyond that the British forces.
ARTILLERY EFFECTIVE
The great effectiveness of the artillery fire preceding
the advance became evident only after the soldiers had gone over the top. The
route ahead was virtually clear of all obstructions, but six feet of level
ground could not be found. The whole field of the forward movement was pitted
with massive shell craters, making the advance more like mountain climbing.
Observers in the rear could see the infantry, disappearing suddenly from view as
they went into a hole, and then clambering up its other side. Often a pool of
muddy water awaited the soldiers at the bottom of a shell hole, as well as mud
knee deep, so that climbing out was no easy task, considering the weight of the
heavy equipment each man carried.
Over this same field a part of the battle of Verdun had
been fought in 1919, and the holes scooped out by the artillery at that time,
with those constantly added by the opposing forces in the meantime, could be
distinguished from the newly made ones by grass which grew on their sides.
Occasionally a few bleached bones could be seen, a grim reminder of the heroes
who had died and were being avenged. Instead of disheartening the men, this
sight, only added to their ferocity. The graves of dead comrades have always
brought sorrow to the hearts of soldiers, but as well, a greater hate for the
Hun.
The early morning of the advance was gray and
forbidding. The land was covered with a heavy mist which impaired the air
observations. Overhead the sky was clear, and bore evidence of a warm sun which
would soon dispel the mists and permit the work to go on unhampered. It was the
season of the year when nights were cold and damp, and days fairly warm.
Consequently, infantrymen wore slickers when they started out in the chill of
the early morning. These soon became unbearable, and an impediment to the
rapidity of the advance, hence hundreds of men, in the heat of battle, discarded
them. When night came again, they bitterly cursed their actions, for they were
wretched in the cold.
IN THE ENEMY TRENCHES
With machine gunners ahead and behind, the infantry
advanced rapidly into the domain of the enemy. The first German trench seemed to
have been obliterated by artillery fire. It was easily detected, however, but
found to be practically deserted of German soldiers. The advance beyond the
first German trench was not so easy. As soon as the barrage laid down by the
artillery has passed, Germans appeared quickly from their dugouts. Many of these
were of the pill box type, that is, covered with a rounded mound of concrete
about a foot in thickness, beneath which the machine guns were mounted a few
inches about the ground level, their muzzles protruding through small oblongated
holes in the concrete. The oblongation permitted traversing of the guns and
enabled a sweeping fire. These pill boxes were usually covered with leaves and
foliage, and cleverly camouflaged. The machine gun was one of the most deadly
weapons in the war, and one of them firing at the rate of 600 shots per minute
has been known to cause havoc in the ranks of a whole brigade.
Keystone soldiers had profited in dealing with these
machine gun nests by previous experience. When they discovered one of them
spitting fire and flame in such deadly volume that a direct frontal attack would
prove too costly, they flanked it on either side by passing around it to the
right and left. In case it could not be destroyed with grenades and rifles, it
was left for the heavier guns advancing in the rear. Trench mortars usually had
no difficulty in completely demolishing the pill box type. Consequently Capt.
Knowles’ trench motor battery had considerable work to do in the American sector
of the advance, for the pill boxes fairly dotted the surface of the territory.
The capturing of a machine gun nest and its gunners was a hazardous attack. It
usually cost many lives, but the sacrifice was imperative, else the general
advance would be greatly impaired.
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