WM &i& V .*. .' ^'^558! **.r*»»r* -Z: V vi'Z*i»;-r-ij.*- !•£' £&& £• pQpCCBHp NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NLM 0007311=1 2 SURGEON GENERAL'S OFFICE LIBRARY Section___________ Form 113c „„ ~=Z \ £_ Q A.^ W.D., S.G.O. No' ^--A..TXI.rA.7T ^ U^S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE: 1934 NLM000731612 ^v^i^C tt+ CY«. -.l"'(HL&~J HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE IN FRANCE I'tiiiitcil by Charles I/qtf'bauer •'A SKV MOROSE, TEMPESTUOUS, BLACK, THE LOW HORIZON MISTY-WAN, AND SILENT O'ER THE LONG, LONG TRACK A COLUMN SLOWLY TRUDGING ON." History of the American Field Service in France "Friends of France" 1914-1917 TOLD BY ITS MEMBERS WITH ILLUSTRATIONS Volume II IJlt -1917 Boston and New York HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1920 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED UH 300 HG13 W20 v, 2 CONTENTS Volume II SECTION TEN i Hamilton Lillie, 3. William D. Swan, Jr., 11. James W. Harle, Jr., 16. Henry M. Suckley, 27. Frank J. Tay- lor, 28. Burnet C. Wohlford, 37. William J. Losh, 40. SECTION TWELVE 43 Croom W. Walker, Jr.,45. Julien H. Bryan, 53. Ralph N. Barrett, 59. SECTION THIRTEEN 63 Benjamin F. Butler, Jr., 65. John M. Grierson, 75. Frank X. Laflamme, 81. SECTION FOURTEEN 83 Joseph H. Eastman, 85. William J. Losh, 90. Franklin B. Skeele, 94. SECTION FIFTEEN 101 Clitus Jones, 103. Keith Vosburg, 108. Jerome Preston, in and 135. SECTION SIXTEEN 137 Franklin D. W. Glazier, 139. Alpheus E. Shaw, 145. James H. Lewis, 149. Marshal G. Penfield, 151. v CONTENTS SECTION SEVENTEEN 153 James W. D. Seymour, 155 and 172. Basil K. Neftel, 187. Carleton F. Wright, 189. SECTION EIGHTEEN 193 Ernest R. Schoen, 195 and 209. Robert A. Donaldson, 215. SECTION NINETEEN 219 Paul A. Rie, 221. Charles C. Jatho, 232. Frank G. Royce, 237. John D. Loughlin, 243. Edward P. Shaw, 245- SECTION TWENTY-SIX 247 Charles E. Bayly, Jr., 249. Gilbert N. Ross, 254. Joseph Leveque, 255. Ellis D. Slater, 259. SECTION TWENTY-SEVEN 261 Howard R. Coan, 263 and 269. Coleman G. Clark, 276. SECTION TWENTY-EIGHT 277 Frederic R. Colie, 279. John B. Hurlbut, 285. Stanley Hill, 291. Converse Hill, 293. SECTION SIXTY-FOUR 295 Richard W. Westwood, 297. SECTION SIXTY-FIVE 301 Louis G. Caldwell, 303. Raymond W. Gauger, 317. Paul A. Redmond, 319. SECTION TWENTY-NINE 321 John T. Walker, Jr., 323. Richard O. Battles, 329. SECTION SIXTY-SIX 333 Stanley B. Jones, 335. William G. Rice, Jr., 339. Perley R. Hamilton, 342. Walter D. Carr, 346. SECTION SIXTY-SEVEN 349 Kenneth M. Reed, 351. Norman C. Nourse, 357. vi CONTENTS SECTION SIXTY-EIGHT 361 Sidney C. Doolittle, 363 and 366. SECTION SIXTY-NINE 369 Henry B. Rigby, 371. Robert R. Ball, 374. SECTION THIRTY 379 Albert E. MacDougall,38i and 386. J.OliverBeebe,402. SECTION SEVENTY 405 Robert A. Donaldson, 407 and 412. Arthur J. Putnam, 410. SECTION THIRTY-ONE 423 Kent D. Hagler, 425. C. C. Battershell, 432. Gordon F. L. Rogers, 434. SECTION SEVENTY-ONE 437 Philip Shepley, 439. Edward A. Weeks, Jr., 442. SECTION THIRTY-TWO 447 Gurnee H. Barrett, 449. John S. Clapp, 455. SECTION THIRTY-THREE 457 Robert Rieser, 459. Richard C. Paine, 462. SECTION SEVENTY-TWO 463 John H. Woolverton, 465. FIELD SERVICE HAUNTS AND FRIENDS TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD 469 Raymond W. Gauger, 470. Raymond Weeks, 471. Stephen Galatti, 475- Joseph R. Greenwood, 490. David Darrah, 494. James W. D. Seymour, 496. TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES 499 John R. Fisher, 499, 505- H. Burt Herrick, 511. Robert A. Donaldson, 513. Stephen Galatti, 516. vii CONTENTS TWO LOYAL FRIENDS OF THE FIELD SERVICE 519 Arthur J. Putnam, 519. Preston Lockwood, 521. FRENCH OFFICERS ASSOCIATED WITH THE SERVICE 523 Stephen Galatti. ■■**^-iy ILLUSTRATIONS Volume II "... A Column slowly trudging on" (in color) — Charles Hoffbauer Frontispiece An Albanian Road near Florina 6 Convoys of Supplies in Albania 6 French Colonials on the Monastir Front 12 Cemetery near Koritza, where Suckley is buried 20 Crossing the Sakulevo River 30 All in the Day's Work! 30 "Where Roads are little more than River-Beds" 40 The Chateau of Esnes "Poste" 48 Camouflage on the Esnes Road 48 Poilus of To-Morrow watching an Air-Battle 56 A Halt "en Route" 70 Two Types of French Gas-Masks 70 Field Hospital at Clairs-Chenes 86 Section Fourteen leaving "rue Raynouard " 86 Ambulance Panel of the Leland Stanford Section (in color) 94 The "Morning After" a Collision 106 Esnes near Mort Homme 106 ix ILLUSTRATIONS The Eiffel Tower — Neighbor of our Passy Days 118 The Snows of Champagne 130 Near Hexen-Weg in the Valleys of the '' M onts " 130 Even this — "Pour la Patrie" 142 The Canal near Montgrignon 142 Home in France 160 The Winter Trail to the Trenches 176 "Boyaux" to the Forts of Verdun 176 The Flags of France 188 "Duck and dodge and twist in the darkness " (in color) — Charles Hoffbauer 198 Above Verdun 212 The Vacherauville "Poste" 212 At a "Poste" at the very Front 224 Loading the Ambulance 236 Chattancourt Station — the Second-Line Trenches 252 When Labor slackens 252 Dressing-Station before Mourmelon 266 The Ferme de Moscou "Poste de Secours" 266 Loading a "Couche" at Constantine 280 Gas on the Road! 280 La Croix de Guerre Franchise (in color) 290 The Final Driving Test at May 304 View of the Farm at May-en-Multien 304 The End of an Ambulance 316 La Terre Promise 326 General Niessel at the Grave of Hamilton and Gailey 342 A Borrowed French Ambulance of Section Sixty-Six 354 Vassogne after a Night of Shelling 354 "Under what troubled skies your steps have led you" (in color) — Charles Hoffbauer 366 Ambulance at a Dressing-Station near Verdun 376 x ILLUSTRATIONS Evacuating a Hospital 388 Transferring the Wounded to a Train 388 The Col de Bussang 400 FortMalmaison! 410 Arrival of a "Couche" on a "Brouette" 410 Ambulance "Poste" at Cappy (in color) — Victor White 420 "Poste de Secours" at Montauville 432 When Cleanliness is a Myth 442 Where Army-Blue turns to Khaki 442 The Garden of "rue Raynouard" in Winter 454 Statuette in Tribute to Section Nine and the Service 460 Head-Table at the Farewell Dinner to Section Fourteen 480 Ox the Terrace of "21" 490 Mr. Andrew addressing newly arrived Volunteers 490 One of the Earliest Officers' Schools at Meaux 500 The Training-Camp at May-en-Multien 510 La Comtesse de la Villestreux 520 Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt 522 Lieutenants Rodocanachi and de Kersauson 526 Lieutenants d'Halloy and de Rode 530 Lieutenant de Turckheim and Capitaine Genin 534 HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE IN FRANCE Section Ten THE STORY TOLD BY I. Hamilton Lillie II. William Dennison Swan, Jr III. James W. Harle, Jr. IV. Henry M. Suckley V. Frank J. Taylor VI. Burnet C. Wohlford VII. William J. Losh SUMMARY Section Ten began and ended its history in the Balkans. It was sent to the Balkan front on December 26, 1916, arriving in Salonica January 8, 1917. On February 12 its cars and equip- ment were assembled, and it left in convoy for the Albanian front, taking quarters in the town of Koritza, and working postes at Gorica and Swezda. The first group of men to serve in the Section were relieved at the end of their six months, and left Koritza on July 4, when they heard that the new men had landed at Salonica. The new men of the Section, a Stanford University unit, found the cars at Koritza, and took over the work immediately. On September 5, 1917, it followed the French-Albanian offensive from Lake Malik to Lake Ochrida, and moved the postes on over the mountains to Pogredec and Lesnicha. When the Government finally took over the work of the American Field Service, and declined to maintain these sanitary sections against nations with which the United States was not yet officially at war, the cars, along with those of Section Three, were given to the French Government, and the men disbanded and returned to France. Section Ten Soaring France! Now is humanity on trial in thee: Now may'st thou gather humankind in fee: Now prove that Reason is a quenchless scroll; Make of calamity thine aureole, And, bleeding, lead us through the troubles of the sea. George Meredith I Departure for Marseilles Written on the train, December 27, 1916 Section Ten had its farewell dinner last evening and we then scrambled from the dining-room at 21 rue Raynouard into autos which took us to the Lyons Station, whence our train left about 10.50 p.m. for Marseilles. We got through the long night somehow, sleeping on the floor or any place we could find. This morning we stopped at a little town on a canal and got some very poor coffee and a hunk of bread apiece. Some of us then went into an oyster and snail establishment, being attracted by some smiling maidens in the windows. As a result, Robbie and I barely managed to get on one of the freight cars as the train pulled out, while our French Lieutenant and a number of the others have been left behind. 3 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE December 28 Ten p.m. and we are still in this damned old train. The fellows who were left behind at Laroche got on an express train which passed us and when we reached Dijon there they were in the station, with wide grins on their faces. This morning's ride was perfectly delightful, for we are in the south of France, which is full of rocky hills, old, crumbling, ivy-covered towers, and gardens with palms growing in them. The sunshine makes perfect weather. Most of us rode on the freight boxes, where are our cars, in order to get a good view of everything. December 29 We arrived in Marseilles after a journey of fifty-four hours in the train. I never saw respectable fellows as dirty as we. Bright sunshine and a throng of Orientals, English, Russians, and soldiers of all nations make the city most interesting. On Shipboard in the Mediterranean January 3, 1917 Got on board the Lotus, on which we sail for Salonica. Our rooms are down in the steerage, where "niggers" sprawl all over the passage, and there is no water for washing and no sanitary arrangements. A company of two hundred and fifty Russians is on board. Mules being hauled up with derricks. Our boat sailed at three o'clock, passing a steamer with bows all stove in. A pretty choppy sea outside the harbor made men all over the ship sick and the mules "galloped in neutral" at every jounce. It was too dirty below, so we slept on the floor of the second- class smoking-room. January 5 We were off the islands all day yesterday, and the dark, grim-looking mountains with houses dotted over them made wonderful scenery. In the afternoon we met two small French cruisers which hung around till dark. A 4 SECTION TEN French torpedo-boat destroyer convoyed us all night. We slept on deck, using life-belts as pillows. This morning is fine. We have been about a mile off the coast of Tunis all morning. Supposed to be going to Malta next for coal. Life in Salonica January 9 We got into Salonica Harbor late last night. Since there were no buildings for us we had to pitch a camp of three bell tents which are very crowded. We eat in a long, low, wooden shed with the poilus and "niggers." It is rough food, but might be worse. And our table manners have become deplorable. "Grab what you can and eat it quickly before some one gets it away from you," seems to be the rule. Never saw anything so picturesque or so dirty as this extraordinary town with its mosques, mina- rets, and Oriental types. There are soldiers of all Allied nations, and natives with queer uniforms, baggy trousers, and tasselled shoes. We had a great view from the old Venetian wall this morning. We saw nothing at first but the tips of the Turkish minarets through the mist. Later the sun conquered the fog and we saw the whole city and harbor stretched out before us. January 14 To-day was the Greek Christmas and a big fete day. x\ll the stores were closed; the peasants did strange dances in the streets; and everywhere we saw queer-looking musical boxes carried through the towns on the backs of old bearded men, while young striplings walked behind turn- ing the crank. January 15 Several queer things happened this morning. While we were still in bed, we heard shots in the distance, and Macl 1 Gordon Kenneth MacKenzie, of Boston, Massachusetts; joined the Field Service in November, 1916; served with Section Ten in the Balkans and Section Two in France; enlisted in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service, September, 1917; died of wounds received in action, June 14, 1918. 5 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE happened to remark that nothing could get him out of bed but the actual bombardment of the tent. A few mo- ments later, there was a little "smack" and a long rifle bullet ripped through Bruns's blankets and buried its nose in the ground. It only missed his leg by an inch. A Frenchman was hit in the head by another bullet and stunned. They were Greek bullets, but the mystery is not yet solved. Batch and I went up to the old Turkish prison this morning, a place very dirty and interesting. Outside it was a Greek battery, and just as we got under it they fired about twenty salutes for Venizelos, who is in town. Afterwards, while we were in a cafe, a Greek priest came in, walked up behind the bar-boys, and splashed them with a bunch of flowers which he dipped in water carried by his little acolyte. When he had made three dabs on their faces, they gave him money, and he then left. They have queer habits in these regions! Over the Mountains to Albania Monday, February 12 We left camp in our ambulances this morning for Albania, over the Greek mountains, leaving on our right bare, brown-green hills and encampments, military bridges, very few trees, earthworks and barbed-wire entangle- ments, marshes and a desert, with sand all around. After sundry troubles, especially with the kitchen car which we could never think of leaving behind, we skirted under a high mountain, through some woods, and made camp for the night. February 13 We stopped in Vodena, a quaint old town, for lunch. Here by Kimono Lake, where we longed to shoot wild ducks, we heard guns for the first time. We camped for the night on a freezingly cold plateau. February 14 It is colder than ever and we 're on the worst road yet. The morning was spent pushing. We had no food till we 6 A HALT OX AN ALBANIAN ROAD NEAR FLORINA coxvovs of srrri ies for the French troops in Albania SECTION TEN got to Ostrovo by a beautiful lake, the scene of a battle, with shell-holes all around. Farther on was another awful hill, on which we camped cold and tired after pushing each other's ambulances most of the way. February 16 Two cars went into a ditch near Banitza, a very curious town. Bruns turned two somersaults into a ditch twenty feet deep. In the afternoon I carried my first Serb soldier. We are now on a fine road nearing big auto camps on the plains ahead. There is snow on the mountains as usual. By supper-time we arrived at Fiorina, where we got pota- toes, meat, and beans in an old dirty tavern. Sunday, February 18 We left Fiorina about 9 a.m. and faced the biggest climb yet, a perfectly terrific one, like the Grand Canon of the Colorado. My car ran wonderfully and I was only pushed twice. It is lovely weather, but the road is covered with deep mud and ruts. Mules are there by thousands. Boche prisoners are working on roads. It was difficult driving between the mules and carts and the precipice. Later we splashed through swollen streams, and in one I bent the crank-case on a huge rock. Another car came up soon and we had lunch of singe and a little bread. After lunch all went on but Fitz and me. I was finally towed by a Pack- ard six kilometres to camping ground. Eventually, I had to run the car as she was, despite the clanking noise. Work on the Albanian Front March 10 I was on duty at Gorica, near Lake Presba. I slept in a barn on dirty straw. This is a queer little village of wicker and mud huts. The women are hard at work carrying wood, while the men stand around doing nothing. The total excitement of the inhabitants is picking lice off each other in doorways. / THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE March n Awakened by guns, I knew the attack had begun at last. Our cars went to a poste two kilometres over the Serbian boundary and got the wounded who came down the mountains slung on mules. They are horribly messed up, some of them. March 20 Days of hard work, carrying wounded over awful roads, and on to Koritza. I shall never forget scenes in the hos- pital there, where wounded were dumped down on straw in fearful pain, many of them. The camp at Zemlak was bombed, and Henry Suckley, our Chef, was injured so badly that he died in a few hours. His funeral was held to-day at Koritza, where he was buried in the little Christian cemetery. Sous-Chef Kimberly Stuart will be in charge of the unit. April 15 Our Headquarters are moved to Koritza, with postes at Swezda and Gorica. At Zemlak we live in a Turkish house. There is a knot-hole in the door between our room and that of the Turks, and it is usually occupied by an eye — either belonging to us or to one of the natives. So neither of us feels sure of much privacy. But the little daughter, Litfi, comes in every day with a gift of an omelette, or some native dish; and they are very attentive. There is an older daughter, too, who is supposed never to be seen by any man outside her family; but we sometimes see her through the knot-hole. At Gorica we live near the lake, eating with some sous-officiers and sleeping in our cars. The scenery is beautiful, and there are bears and wolves in the forests near by. Sunday, May 20 On returning from a trip to Zelova, I met a native bridal procession coming out of Koritza. In front were donkeys laden with brilliantly painted wooden trunks and boxes, 8 SECTION TEN and behind, on an ass, which her husband led, was the bride in a white veil. People thronged the streets every- where to witness the ceremony. The couple cannot live together for two days, according to the custom. Marriage always takes place on a Sunday, and the festivities last a whole week. On the Monday the relatives, in a regular procession with music, go out to see the bride. Monday, May 21 I took a walk with the Albanian from Bridgeport, and met a deputation of old women on their way out to visit the bride of yesterday. They all carried black umbrellas and were accompanied by a girl beating on a drum. A Native Funeral June 3 In the afternoon I went with Mac to police headquarters to see the results of the new order disarming all Albanian and Turkish civilians. They poured in all day with every sort of weapon, from modern Turkish rifles to bent and battered muzzle-loaders, thick with rust. We examined the pile of junk, and I brought away as souvenirs the sights of a Turkish rifle and a small dagger. Afterwards a native funeral came along the street and we followed. Singing a mournful song, the tall-hatted priests led the way through the cemetery to the old church where there was an open casket in the middle of the floor, and we went in. All, including ourselves, held candles. After a long chant the coffin was taken out to the yard, but not until all the relatives had kissed the corpse. Hired mourners kissed it again and again by the graveside, weeping and wailing frantically all the while. The body was that of a woman not over thirty, but very ghastly to look at. After the final kissing, a cross was put on the mouth, the body was covered with cotton cloth — all except the nose — and the coffin was then lowered into a shallow grave, about three feet deep. The priest threw in olive oil, and the spectators each tossed in a 9 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE little earth. Finally a lid was put on the coffin and the grave filled up. Dry bread was given out at the gate of the church-yard. Every one seemed very hungry and many fought for it. June 12 I got some Albanian kids to wash my car in exchange for some chewing-gum. We saw the Albanian Army march- ing downtown to-day. Its exploits are amusing. During one battle the only man killed was an Albanian captain who was quarrelling with another captain about who should ride the one horse. The Albanian Army came home for Easter, leaving the positions to the Boches, and the Senegalese " niggers " had to go out to save the town. June 13 I was on call and made a trip to Kula Nora for three men suspected of typhus. In the afternoon I had another call to get a blesse from Voskop, a little town at the foot of the mountains toward Muskopole. None of our ambulances had been there before. The blesse turned out to be a Roumanian civilian who had been set upon by komitadji, or bandits, with knives, robbed of his money, and wounded ten times in the neck. July 1 I made a trip to Zelova. If it's my last trip in good old 348, as it should be, I 'm glad it was a pleasant one. The road is quite good now, except the "Biklista Bumps." I met thousands of ponies, asses, and goats, and three tor- toises on the road. Hamilton Lillie 1 1 Of Boston, Massachusetts; Cambridge University, England, and Har- vard, '18; served in Sections Four and Ten from November, 1916, to November, 1917; subsequently became a Lieutenant in the U.S.A. Avia- tion Service. The above extracts are from his diary. II Salonica and Roads to Albania Salonica, January 21 Went downtown to a mosque to see a dervish ceremony, which consisted of a group of about sixteen men, all kneeling in a circle and chanting a verse which they re- peated about a hundred times; then shifting to some other verse for another hundred, while swaying their bodies from side to side. Later, they chanted to a kind of tom-tom, or drum, going faster and faster. They were singing dervishes. We were disappointed, as we had hoped to see the whirling, dancing variety. February 15 Got up quite late. We are on the side of the road in a kind of a ravine between two hills. On the right is a long, high ridge rising below us and coming to a summit opposite, and then rolling on beyond. It is a stony, gray, slaty hill, covered with a brown scrub. Halfway between us and it is a tiny little Serbian graveyard of about twenty wooden crosses, and right beside us is a single lonely grave of a man killed on this very spot by shell. All this country has been fought over many times. The big snow mountains in the distance, and the large, queer-shaped lake on the other side of us, make a very beautiful region, different from any I have ever seen. Every now and again we hear the rumble of heavy guns. February 16 Very cold on the tops of the mountains, but a wonderful view of the country. Fiorina is just visible in the distance, tucked against the snow-capped mountains about twenty miles across a broad, level valley. It is a funny little town, like the worst parts of Salonica. At night it is as dark as pitch, all the windows and doors being boarded up. 11 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Trouble with Aeroplanes Zemlak, February 24 A fine, clear day in this little village and every one expected some aeroplanes to fly over. Suckley made us move the cars all round so that one bomb would not blow them all up at once. A couple of planes did fly over, but no bombs were dropped. One Boche, however, turned his machine gun on some troops down the road, and one Frenchman got excited and fell off his horse; he was the only casualty. From camp it sounded like quite a little battle. March 9 I left camp for Soulim, where two of us are to be stationed for a few days. The road is an old Roman one, and a won- derful piece of engineering. It winds back and forth, zig- zagging. At the top, you suddenly get a fine view of Lake Presba, whose water is strikingly green and brown, with white herons on its surface making a curious con- trast. March 10 Left Soulim about 12.30, as everything was moving to Gorica. We made Gorica with some difficulty as the road is terrible. There we got two malades for Zemlak. We had quite a bit of trouble in getting over the pass, as it is worse going that way. We got stuck about six times, but finally arrived at Zemlak at 6 and had supper, and then started back for Gorica at 9.30. The moon was quite bright, and it was a marvellous night, the snow- capped mountains standing out like purest crystal while the cloud-shadows on them were most curious. One place on the road, where it runs on the side of the hill with the lake about two hundred feet directly below, is especially beautiful. We got to Gorica at 12 p.m., and went right to bed in the car. The attack starts to-morrow, and about the whole Section will be up in the morning. 12 ft „•"** ^ f - 4 ^Vv FRENCH COLONIAX- TROOPS IN THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MONASTIR FRONT I SECTION TEN Shelling by the Austrians March II Got up about 7. About ten of our cars were sent up to the front. We stopped when in sight of the enemy. One car went on beyond and was shelled; so we all had to stay quite far back. The "75's" and the "220's" started at 7 and kept at it all day long. The advance moved but slowly, as the Austrians had lots of ammunition. About noon, the wounded began coming up the road on mule- back. March 13 Woke up at 4, and took two couches to Gorica, returning about 6. Loafed around until 10, when three of us went down the road to watch a "120" firing. We were about one hundred yards away when suddenly the Austrians opened up on it. Three or four shells fell quite near it, when, all of a sudden, a shell came in and lit within a yard of the gun and in the midst of the ammunition; there was a crash and a flash, and in the light we could see three figures thrashing around. We went back, got a car, and carried the men who were wounded across the field to a hastily constructed dressing-station. One man was dying — his head terribly burnt, a hole in his neck, a broken leg and arm. The other two were not so badly off. About one o'clock, I took three assis to the hospital, and then got a little sleep. About 5.30 I left for Koritza with three assis; had no lights and the roads were very bad. To bed at Zemlak at midnight. It rained all night. Raining and drizzling when I woke up; started work on my car about 7. Lunch at Zemlak and left for Gorica at 12.30. Roads worst I have ever seen; they were like a boulevard before compared with what they now are. Long Hard Runs March 16 Still raining when I got up. Left for Zemlak with three assis. Roads pretty bad, but some of the worst places had 13 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE been fixed. Car ran poorly at first, and I had to change spark-plugs twice. At Zemlak we had to go on to Biklista; the road was terrible — worse than the mountains. Got stuck in a stream. Had a nice lunch at Biklista and started back. Got stuck in same stream with the car tilted so that the gas would n't run to the carburetor. After about an hour twenty-five Senegalese came along and pushed me out. Stayed at Zemlak for the night to bring up the ravitaillement. Got up at 6.30 and tried to start my car. The water in the gas-tank was at the bottom and had frozen. Had a terrible time; but finally got it started. Snowing all the time, and the road was difficult. Got to Gorica about noon and carried five blesses to Gorica la-bas. Up to the poste about 3.30, and made one trip with five assis. From then on until about 3 a.m. I made five trips. On one trip a man died on the stretcher beside the car, and another one died about ten minutes after I got to the hospital. March 18 Woke up about 9 and took one couche and three assis to Gorica. Came back for lunch and filled tank. An avion flew over, and when it was directly over my head, I saw him drop three bombs, which fell in an orchard, about two hundred yards from the road. Back to the poste and returned to the hospital with a couche and three assis. Worked on my car awhile and am now at the poste wait- ing my turn to go up. Went up with two couches and re- turned. Back again with two more and got something to eat. Heard that Suckley, Dufour, Michel, and Senel were all hit by avion bombs. The Death of Suckley March 19 Got up early this morning and went to the hospital with one couche and three assis. We heard the terrible news that Henry Suckley was dying. The aviator flew down the road from Zemlak and dropped four bombs. Henry SECTION TEN fearlessly came to the door of the tent when the aero- plane was heard, and one of the bombs fell about fifteen yards from him, to the front and a little to the right. He was struck in the groin. Though terribly hurt, he was never unconscious, and was rushed to Koritza in an ambulance, where he stayed until he died the next morn- ing. Several of the fellows were at Koritza all the time, and saw him continually during the day and night. He was conscious all the time, smoking and chatting cheer- fully with the men. He kept asking why there were so many of the fellows bothering about him when they should all be up at the front doing their work. He died quietly the next morning, about nine o'clock, and was buried that afternoon with military honors. All of us at the front were unable to go to the funeral, for the work had to be carried on just the same as if he were alive, which was what he would have wished. William Dennison Swan, Jr.1 1 Of Cambridge, Massachusetts; Harvard, '17; in the American Field Service from November, 1916, to August, 1917; subsequently became a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Field Artillery. Ill Leaving Salonica Salonica, January 21 Very cold. Snow on surrounding hills. We have con- structed stoves from gasoline cans. MacKenzie made an excellent one from a galvanized iron can. Have thrown the earth up around the bottom of the tent to keep the cold out and am comfortable now so long as the wood lasts. Stovepipes are protruding from all the tents and columns of black smoke belch forth. The orchestra, con- sisting of two mandolins, two guitars, flute, and violin, got together after supper and we had some lively music. January 25 Great changes in temperature here. Boys went swimming in the bay again. The Packard camion section, that has been sharing the vacant lot with us, left this morning. A crowd of women had gathered waiting the moment when they could pounce upon the trash left there. It was a wild scramble and tussle for everything, even for bits of broken boxes. Four husky women would fight for an empty box, and the possession of an old home-made stovepipe was of more importance than a head of hair. Soon we saw that first possession meant nothing to the "might is right" "super-women." Here was the war all over again. The strong were snatching from the weak. They were amazed and indignant that we should do aught but look on and applaud their strength of arms. We interfered because we were for fair play — namely, first come, first served. Any good American would do the same. The old lady next door had better keep her three fat ducks at home. February 1 Wooden shoes have been issued to us. The old lady next door wants to know what has become of a duck. Only two quacking about this morning. 16 SECTION TEN February 12 Up at four o'clock; packed tents and burnt all rubbish. The women will be surprised and disappointed when they see we have gone and left no trash behind. February 14 To-night the ambulances are roosting here on the top of a steep hill, and this is how we got up this last big hill. When we saw it we knew we could not make the grade, so we stopped well back in order to make a run for it. But before making the attempt, we all walked up looking the road over and figuring out how we might best make it. Then we stationed ourselves at the places where we knew a push would be necessary, and signalled for a car to come on. A hundred yards from the top, it was necessary to go into first speed, which was good for about twenty yards and the rest of the distance it was push for all hands. It is now 9.30 and I am writing in my car. The wind is howling outside and it is very cold. My ambulance is well made and closes up snugly, so with a lantern burning it is quite comfortable. Ellingston is on guard and one would know it is way below freezing by the sound of his feet upon the frozen ground. A Visit from Section Three February 17 Lovering Hill, Powell Fenton, and Bluethenthal came over from Monastir to see us. After lunch, Henry decided to send five ambulances on over into Albania and I was one of those chosen. We were told to travel light; so we carried only extra gasoline and personal effects. We started at 2 p.m. and reached the top of the pass at 11 p.m. Nine hours to go eleven miles! But the mud was ankle- deep, and near the top the deep ruts were frozen. We had to use the same tactics of pushing in relay. At one steep place several natives passed us and we made motions for assistance, when we received from one of them this reply, 17 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE in perfect English: "Christ a'mighty, I have already done a day's work." We laughed, passed around cigarettes and shook hands with our interpreter's friends. He had worked in Gloversville, New York. Before going to sleep I made tea and we opened sardines and the army rum bottle and talked of what Albania might look like. February 18 After lunch we stopped at the small village of Zemlak which is south of Lake Presba and lies to the north of and at the foot of a large butte. If we had searched all over Albania we could not have chosen a worse place to spend the next six weeks. Clouds continually hover about this mountain and we are seldom in sunshine, although we can look across at other villages basking in the sun and their white minarets beckoning to us. February 19 Most of the other boys arrived to-day. We pitched one tent over an old Turkish burial-ground. The headstones have disappeared, but the turf is good. Sunken places show where the graves are. I carried two wounded French- men from Biklista to Bresnica. March 1 Bob Clark waked me up about four o'clock with, "Jim, the big tent must have fallen down; I hear them driving tent pegs." At seven we found to our great surprise four inches of snow. All this snow upon the tent had drawn the pegs and the boys had to get up and reset it. By noon there were seven inches of snow. An Attack March (I think it is the 24th) These last two weeks have been hard, indeed, and it seems like a dream. During the ten days of the attack I made nine trips to Koritza and back, 74 miles, and ten trips to the poste, an easy 750 miles, over roads beyond 18 SECTION TEN description. Selden Senter made eleven trips over the mountain in those ten days. There were stretches of road through the woods that had been made by cutting out the brush and levelling the ground. Softened by the rains, the ammunition wagons, artillery, and mule-carts had cut in, making deep mud-holes; and into these the na- tives had thrown stones. There were other stretches in low places where the mud was knee-deep. Many times I had to carry stones and reconstruct a surface under my wheels. We start over the mountain with our blesses about 7 in the morning and get back during the night — sometimes as late as 2 a.m. My greatest fear is that I may fall asleep at my wheel and crash down one of the many cliffs by the roadside. At one place the road skirts the lake, high above the water. We are often so fatigued with the strain and monotony of this unceasing grind that we fall asleep at the wheel, and run off the road. Recently, Gignoux ran over a high wall and his car turned upside down. Before I run past a dangerous stretch of road I stop my car, bathe my face in cold water, get down, and run up and down the road several times to convince myself that I am well awake. This fatigue of constant driving acts like a narcotic upon one. The mind becomes dull, and, though fully aware that I am going off the road, I am indifferent as to what follows. In this state of mind shadows along the road assume queer shapes and one is likely to see animals, men, and wagons that really do not exist. Suckley killed March (I have lost track of days) We are all broken up over Henry Suckley's death. He was one of the finest fellows I ever saw. Many of us were unable to see him before he died, or to attend his funeral. He was buried with full military honors and his remains lie in the Christian cemetery at Koritza, among many whom he came out to serve. I regret that he did not live 19 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE to see his efforts rewarded by the knowledge that we did the work that we came out to do. He was in constant fear that our cars could not stand the terrific strain of these awful roads, and yet during the attack we handled the wounded as fast as they were able to be moved and the Medecin Chef said it was doing almost the impossible. • Here are some details concerning Suckley's death. We had left our large tent (the one we ate in and the one we slept in), together with our kitchen car, and various im- pedimenta, back at the village of Zemlak, situated at the edge of a broad plain, and had come up here to the front with only our ambulances, bed-rolls, a few personal effects, and some pots and pans to cook with, intending to work from here. Zemlak is fully thirty miles back of the lines and Henry was down there looking after sundry details. It was about noon and he and Robert Wood, of Easthampton, Long Island, Joe Richardson, of Boston, the cook, his Albanian helper, and our Lieutenant's chauffeur, were standing about the camp watching the enemy aeroplanes fly overhead. At this moment, four bombs struck near by, the second one not more than twenty-five feet from the kitchen car, killing the Albanian instantly, wounding Henry mortally, and the cook and chauffeur in their legs. Joe Richardson was in the eating- tent and, on hearing the first bomb explode, threw him- self on the ground, which probably saved his life. If Henry had done this, too, as he often urged us to do, he prob- ably would have been saved. The shells exploded in rapid succession; then Joe got up and went to the door of the tent where Henry was lying, who said, "I am hit," or words to that effect. Thereupon Joe opened Henry's coat and saw at once that it was a very severe wound; so they put him on a stretcher and Robert Wood carried him to the best surgeon here. He was perfectly conscious and cool until that night. He died at eight o'clock the next morning and was buried by a Protestant clergyman with full military honors. Many of the high officials spoke, paying just tribute to his devotion to the work and love 20 CEMETERY NEAR KORITZA IN WHICH HENRY SUCKLEY, " CHEF ' OF SECTION TEN, IS 1HR1ED SECTION TEN for France. Our French officer, Lieutenant Constant, put our feelings into words with moving simplicity and grace, saying : Avant de donner sa vie au service de la France, Henry Suckley lui avait consacre ses forces morales, intellectuelles et physiques. Depuis deux ans aux armees francaises ou il avait merite la Croix de Guerre, il joignait aux plus hautes qualites du chef les humbles patiences du soldat. II estimait que le meilleur moyen pour lui d'obtenir de ses hommes l'obeissance passive, c'etait, en tout, de leur montrer l'exemple et il reussait admirablement. Je me souviens qu'un soir, apres une tres longue et tres dure etape, par un temps de vent et de neige, pensant que la garde de la nuit serait tres penible aux hommes fatigues, il me demanda, lui le chef, a prendre la premiere faction. Comment apres cela, les hommes auraient-ils pu se plaindre? II vivait avec eux, au milieu d'eux et travaillait de ses mains avec eux tout en les commandant. C'est le meil- leur de nous tous qui est tombe. Sa mort surtout fut heroique. Des qu'il fut atteint il de- manda qu'on s'occupat avant lui-meme des autres blesses, alors qu'il etait de beaucoup le plus durement touch6. Mais il ne pensait pas, il n'a jamais pense, a lui; une cigarette a la bouche, comme on l'emportait a l'hopital, il encourageait ses camarades. II n'a pense qu'a son service et a ses hommes et une de ses rares paroles fut pour me demander si tout allait bien la-bas. Nous lui devons toute notre reconnaissance; il est mort pour la France en montrant sur cette terre lointaine quelle est la hauteur et la noblesse d'un cceur americain. Life and Customs in Albania March 27 To-day I took a much-needed hot bath and changed my underwear for the first time since the beginning of the attack. So you see how pressed for time we have been. When we were not working en route, we were giving our cars much-needed attention, such as oiling, greasing, tightening up loose nuts, etc. April 1 There is so much to write of in this strange land and we have been so busy the last month that I am sure I have 21 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE overlooked many things of interest. For instance, we have moved to Koritza, quite a large place for this coun- try, having about 18,000 inhabitants. It is very clean and orderly. We could not be in a healthier place, I am sure. We are at the foot of a line of mountains with a broad plain on the other three sides; so we get plenty of fresh air and water, the latter being from streams high up the mountain-sides. Snow still covers the mountain- tops, but it will not last long with such weather as we have had yesterday and to-day, with every indication of continuing. It is really warm in the sun and very bright — distinctly an Arizona day. The sky is a wonderful blue, and the mountains vary in color from a light blue under the snow to all shades of purple in the foreground; and the colors keep changing throughout the day. We are quartered on the second floor of a very "spooky" house. The absence of glass in the windows does not worry us at all, for we expect the dry season is at hand. Curtains are not necessary, for the female popu- lation turns away at the sight of a man. This shunning of men does not speak well for those who have been here before us. Or, perhaps it is because they do not like our looks. As for the French, they are always gallant with women. A few of the people here are attired in the European dress, but the majority wear native costumes. The men work a bit, follow a plough drawn by oxen, do a little spading and picking and drive a small bunch of pack- animals, donkeys or Albanian ponies, and very small horses. The women work much harder than the men. Many of the female peasants go barefooted the year round, are very hardy, and age very quickly. Great num- bers of them work on the roads, picking up stones from the fields and hills near by and carrying them to the roads to break. They all seem more like animals than human beings, as they never smile and look so much alike. The only life and merriment is confined to the small boys who do about what American kids do. They are at the 22 SECTION TEN stage where they throw their hats and caps in front of our cars just as boys used to do at home. Medical Aid for the Natives April 10 On the way back from Zelova, I was stopped by several peasant women, who had a small girl to be taken to the doctor. Her leg was terribly swollen from the knee down, and she was in great pain. I placed the girl in my ambu- lance, but her old mother refused to get in, too, and ran alongside for some distance. Finally I stopped and she got in, for she preferred the dangers of an automobile to being separated from her daughter. At Biklista I hurried to the office of the French doctor, a charming man, who looked at the swelling and asked me what the old women had to say. The situation seemed hopeless, as I could not speak Bulgarian. Something had to be done, as the doctor wanted to know how long the girl had been ill and the cause of the trouble. It occurred to me that some one in Biklista might speak English; so I ran out in the Street and called out: "Is there any one here who knows Eng- lish?" Thereupon a long, lanky Albanian, among the crowd who came to see what the American wanted, came up and said he spoke a little English. So the doctor, who knew only French, conversed with a woman who only spoke Bulgarian, by this method: the doctor put his questions in French, I asked the same question in Eng- lish, the Albanian translated it into Greek, and the little girl, who spoke Greek as well as Bulgarian, would com- municate it to her mother; and then back would come the reply in the same manner. In the end, the doctor found out what he wanted so that he could diagnose the case. I got an Albanian to procure a room for her as she will be there at least ten days. When the child came from under the influence of chloroform, she kissed my hand. This and the look she gave me amply repaid me for my trouble. 23 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Easter Sunday The Medecin Chef gave us a formal dinner in honor of our entrance into the war. He is a charming man and desired to express his delight. We heard the news officially Saturday morning. April 12 Made another trip yesterday, and en route took our little girl to the surgeon to have her wound dressed. This is necessary, for the bone is exposed, a fearful-looking place. The other fellows are all interested in the case and some of us stop each day to see her. We shall try to bring her here where we can see that she gets proper attention. Capturing Two German Aviators Gorica, April 22 I am up here doing my four days poste duty. This morning I had two German aviators land at my feet — a Lieuten- ant and a machine-gunner. America has been in the war only a few days; so I think I must be the first American to capture a Boche. I was alone in a large field near the lake when I saw the plane coming, descending all the while. Presently I heard the motor running badly; so I knew he was being compelled to land. He was making straight for this open space; so I got behind a small stump for protection. On he came, striking the ground not a hundred feet away from me. The ground was rough, and his wheels getting into a ditch threw the plane forward, the propeller striking the earth and causing the plane to turn completely over on its back, throwing out the two aviators as if they were giant frogs. I walked toward the overturned plane, meet- ing the pilot coming toward me; whereupon I announced that they were my prisoners. He replied in better French than mine that he was well aware of the fact, his motor forcing it upon them. I took his picture with his flying- togs on, just as he landed. All the while the other German was occupied about the plane, and presently I saw him 24 SECTION TEN take a clumsy pistol and fire it, which was followed by a flare of smoke. Then I realized that he wished to burn the machine. But in this he did not succeed, and the plane was left in perfect condition, save for a broken pro- peller and a damaged strut or two. The pilot told me he had dropped his last two bombs in the lake when he found that he would have to land. These he, no doubt, was saving to drop on us, as was his custom each day. Presently I could hear the French soldiers coming on the run, and I expected to see them carry out their oft-re- peated threats as to what they would do if ever a German machine came down there; but nothing of the kind hap- pened, for they seemed interested to hear what we were talking about. This was probably the man who had killed Henry and two others. In the end, they were marched off to Headquarters. A Visit to the Trenches May 20 We are getting terribly bored with no work to do — a fever patient every few days being the extent of our labor. Wakened as usual by the hum of "Fritz's" motor. He dropped four bombs, but did no damage. Bob Lester, Bob Clark, and I decided we would visit the front-line trenches up on the mountain; so we got a lunch from the cook and rode with Brace as far as the poste. We stopped at Regimental Headquarters where the Colonel granted our request to visit the most interesting points, and as- signed one of his men, named Dard, to show us about. Before beginning our climb, we had a fine lunch with the non-coms, and I never enjoyed a meal more. It was served out under the trees, and was so well prepared that we could not recognize army rations. After the meal, we climbed about fifteen hundred feet along the ground that the French had advanced over in March in deep snow, against machine-gun nests. We had so often had these positions pointed out to us by soldiers passing the poste that we were glad to see how they 25 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE looked in reality. Here on the top the Saxon troops had rushed to stop the furious advance of the French and had placed machine guns there, which brought the ad- vance to a standstill. The stone walls, which took the place of trenches, were not more than one hundred and fifty feet apart, and between them lay dead Turks who had fallen in a futile attack six weeks before. This ac- counted for the smells, which we at first thought might come from dead horses, until we realized that no horses could get up there. The soldiers have built here attrac- tive little stone houses. Perhaps during centuries to come lone sheep-herders, grazing flocks high up there, will wonder who the queer people were who lived so far from water. May 30 Batchelor and I have visited a native mountain village, and were interested to see the women carding wool and operating a loom. They twist the wool into yarn while they walk to and from work. Most of the men are in the Bulgarian Army and the women do all the labor. They use a crude wooden plough drawn by cows. Corn and hay seem to be the principal crops — the latter being of a very inferior quality. All work for the French Army is paid for in bread. James W. Harle, Jr.1 1 Of New York City; entered the Field Service in February, 1915, joining Section Two in April, and Section Ten in December, 1916; later served as a sergeant in the U.SA. Ambulance Service. The above are extracts from his Diary. IV Roads versus Machines Koritza, March 2, 1917 Any history of the Section's work in Albania would be imperfect without a reference to the roads, which is given in this paragraph from a letter of mine written to Paris Headquarters last month: " I was very glad to get your note relative to the ship- ment of spare parts for our machines. No story that Brown could have told you can picture the state of the roads. Of four cars out the first day, three broke down with rear axle trouble, and now the springs are beginning to sag and what the future will give us, God only knows. One spring has gone already on the way here, and I expect others will go very soon. Hill can give us nothing, as he uses ten front and ten rear a month! You can get some idea of these roads when I tell you that our kitchen broke its rear axle and its coupling-hook the first day. We man- aged to make only fifty kilometres a day, running eight hours! I should add that these roads are dry and have not suffered from the winter. We have only been working two days, and have had five cars out of commission in that time, using up practically all our supply of spare parts. One French Ford-section has nineteen cars out of commission because of springs and axles. Out of 130 English Fords only four are running. And, believe me, we had some work getting up here. Six of us were ten hours crossing one pass of eleven miles, pushing every car part of the way." Henry M. Suckley/ 1 Of Rhinebeck, New York; Harvard, '10; was in Section Three from its formation in 1915; became Chef of Section Ten in December of 1916; killed while serving in Albania by an avion bomb. 27 V The Stanford Unit The Stanford Balkan Ambulance Unit was the second instalment of Section Ten in the Orient. Touring seemed to be the favorite pastime of the Unit, for in six short months the majority of the men "wandered" from the Stanford University campus in California, across Amer- ica and the Atlantic to France, and from Bordeaux to Paris. In Paris the Unit was offered the opportunity to go to the Balkans to replace men returning from Section Ten. We were increased by an addition of eight men from Sec- tion Fourteen and two from a third Stanford contingent. Carl A. Randau became Chef, and the trip to the unknown Albanian wilds began July 7, 1917. Along with fourteen men for Section Three, who were also going to the Bal- kans, the Unit was marked in traveling orders as "forty American aviators" that better accommodations might be extended along the trip. The French are clever at being kind. Notable among the incidents en route was the "fig-feed " at the home of the American Consul in Livorno. There never were better figs than those in the Consul's garden when we arrived, and which were not there when we left. One hour of lightning sight-seeing in Rome, where an evening was made doubly enjoyable by the reception of the American Consul and the American colony. Next morning Mount Vesuvius obligingly belched out a cloud of smoke as we dragged by on the slow troop-train. Salonica lived up to expectations with its harbor full of Allies' warships, with its soldiers of twenty-four na- tionalities flocking the streets and bazaars, with its mina- rets towering over the Turkish temples, and with its many narrow streets. We should have appreciated Salon- 28 SECTION TEN ica all the more had we foreseen the fire due to Turkish incendiaries, which destroyed the city a month later. A night on a Greek train, packed among soldiers of all Allied varieties, brought us to Fiorina Station, near Monastir, whence we embarked in two Packard trucks for the trip over Pisadori Pass. Autos never ran over this pass until the war taught people new uses for them. Our first casualties occurred here — two of our men succumbing to Balkan unsanitary conditions, the beginning of the epidemic of sickness which ran through the Unit during its entire stay. Fortunately they went to the hospital by ones and twos, leaving sufficient men to run cars. Troop-Trains and Packards — Beginning Work Despite a run-down and worn-out personnel, due to three weeks of troop-train travel and the bouncing over mountain roads, the arrival at the cantonment at Koritza found us ready for an immediate introduction to work, especially as the former section had left when it heard of our arrival at Salonica, only Kimberly Stuart, the Chef, remaining behind. So next morning found every car that could roll out on the roads carrying malades and blesses, and that morning began a rush of work which lasted until the Section was recalled to France eighty-four days later. During this time an average of twelve cars were kept on the road, making thirty to ninety-five kilo- metres apiece per day. There is no en repos in the Balkans. In the first three days of running out along the shores of Lake Presba from Gorica in Serbia to Koritza in Albania, crossing Macedonia on the way, the Section lived on excitement and the newness of the situation, and carried 269 men 5450 kilometres. Fighting in Albania They had an old-style way of fighting down there in the Balkans. Trenches were not very practical except in a few of the valleys, for the warfare was from peak to peak. 29 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Ambulancing there meant hauling the wounded and sick down from the mountains over roads that were formerly only meant for donkeys and ox-carts. Running out to Gorica you wound across the Koritza Valley, up a steep pass toward Monastir, along a mountain-ridge, and down along the shore of Lake Presba, with its pretty wooded island, once the seat of a Balkan Empire under the Bulgars. Looking across the water you saw the Boche side of the lake, and you could locate their positions on the slope opposite you. You were in just as plain sight of them as they were of you, which fact furnished fine copy for the letters home, though if you were honest you told, too, that the Boches had no guns that could reach you, and they probably would not have wasted any ammunition if they had had them, for it was hard to get ammunition up these Balkan peaks; so neither side wasted any. When they did fire, it was usually at strategic posi- tions which both sides avoided. The Gorica poste was a collection of mud huts and tents just out of range of Boche guns, but very easily located by aeroplanes, which may account for, but does not excuse, the fourteen different times the poste was bombed, despite the huge red crosses on the buildings and the grounds. One outpost was a little village up against a towering peak on which men fought, and the other was a tree on the road into Serbia, behind a hill which took all the punishment when there was firing going on, and down which men came straggling when sick or wounded — being either carried by brancardiers or on pack-mules. Around the range lay Podgoritz and Swezda, where the lines were nearer. Farther back was Zemlak, where Suckley, Chef of the former Unit, was killed by a German aero bomb. We soon learned that, along the Albanian front, the Boche aviators were our most dangerous enemies. They had a habit of bombing Koritza every morning as regu- larly as clock-work, while the French aviators were away scouting over the Austrian lines. Our cantonment had 30 CROSSING THE SAKULEYO RIVER ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK! SECTION TEN lost all its windows in one of those raids, and every few days women and children were wounded or killed near our quarters. The staff car had its side full of holes. Roads — Mostly Bad Probably our worst run was the Zelova with Russian evacuations. Zelova was fifty kilometres from the hos- pital at Koritza, over the bumpiest road an auto could travel, and the Russians were not good passengers. It was a daily occurrence for some machine in the convoy to break down, but it never remained broken more than one day at a time, thanks to the good work of the mechan- ics, Johnston, Massuttie, Villier, and Martin. There was the Muskopole trip, across the valley and up the mountains over stones, bridges, and bumps suffi- cient to kill ordinary blesses and impassable to all four- wheeled vehicles except Fords and native ox-carts. Muskopole was in "No Man's Land," and was held by pro-French Komitadjis, or Albanian bandits, and by a few lonely Chinese sentries. The town itself was in ruins, having been systematically destroyed by the Turks, Bul- gars, and pro-Austrian Albanians, along with practically the entire population. Muskopole used to be the Mecca of the Balkans, boasting over twenty churches with wonderful mosaics and fine metal-work. Now these ruined churches are filled with musty stacks of bones, each skeleton scrambled with the next one, and the only inhabitants are a few lingering natives who want to die among the remains of their relatives. An Attack and an Advance — The Albanian Navy On September 5 Section Ten followed the Albanian offen- sive from Lake Malik to Lake Ochrida. In five days the attacking divisions drove the Boches back some fifty kilometres more than the schedule laid out for two weeks' operations. Section Ten had to move postes northward day and night every few hours to keep up with the 31 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE attack. An Austrian hospital one morning in Pogredec on Lake Ochrida was a French hospital in the evening — beds, instruments, buildings, long, thin German Red Crosses, and all. Once the ambulances got ahead of the attack and established a poste in front of the infantry and artillery, with only a few cavalry to keep it company in case the Boches stopped running. Nothing could stop the wild charges of the Moroccan spahis except the order of the French General to slow down until the food trains could catch up. Only pack-mules and Ford ambulances were able to follow the army over the pontoon bridges and the bad roads left by the Austrians. On the steep hill coming out of Pogredec from Lake Ochrida, the General happened one day to see Lieutenant Daniel Faure and Chef Carl A. Randau pushing an ambulance up the grade; so he ordered a dozen poilus to be stationed there to do nothing but this work. It was too steep even for Fords to climb without help. At a number of other places men had to be stationed to help machines through mud and bad places. The success of the attack gave Section Ten two new cantonments, one at Lesnicha, where the hastily deserted headquarters of the Boche officers were turned over to the Unit, and another at Pogredec on Lake Ochrida. This latter cantonment was on a sandy shore, with a fine swimming-beach, of as pretty a mountain lake as can be found anywhere. Before the war the place was noted as a resort. Across the water was Ochrida, held by the Aus- trians, whence rafts armed with machine guns came out to worry the French. But the latter were more than mas- ters of the naval situation with their two launches armed with cannon. These boats had been brought over the mountains on trucks and trains from Salonica and were manned by French sailors from the navy. With no two weeks of work ever the same, life in the Balkans did not grow monotonous, largely because we were always busy. Thus, our repos consisted of coming in to the Koritza cantonment, where the men were always 32 SECTION TEN on call helping out the French ambulance service. The Unit averaged twelve cars on duty for eighty-four days without a break, and many times we had all twenty cars "rolling" up and down the mountains. In August, 2675 men were carried 40,506 kilometres. In September, 1779 men were carried 18,840 kilometres. The first twenty days of October saw 12,000 miles covered and some 800 men moved. At the end, three cars were always without wheels, owing to shortage of supplies, the wheels being switched from one machine to another as it went on duty. Everywhere in the Balkans we encountered natives who spoke English and who had lived in America or had relatives who had been there. A large percentage of the Albanian population was of this sort, and all wanted to move to "the States" after the war. Their "Hullo, Johnny, how are you? What you want?" was the greeting everywhere, and their friendliness often came in handy when the Section wanted to buy something, or when we got lost on a strange road. John, the barber, became our authority for after-dinner discussions on Albanian life. Food conditions in Albania were bad. People actually starved, and it was a common sight to see women and children picking up grains of corn and wheat from the filth of the gutter in front of the French supply head- quarters. Sugar and flour could not be bought. The Army was forbidden to get grain from the natives, for the production of the soil was to be reserved for the civilian population which almost starved the year before. Army supplies were better, but were not sufficiently good to keep the men well even when they lived up to the rule of the doctors, "never eat anything not cooked an hour." Finally, Vern Caughell and Sedley Peck took over the cooking end of the Section's activities and we lived a Vamericaine so far as style of cooking was concerned. The valley in which the Section worked was, with the adjacent hills, known as the Republic of Koritza, and with the help of the French the natives were improving conditions considerably. Toward the end of our stay the 33 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Albanians won to our good graces, though for a long time we considered them only a ragged, dirty, ignorant, and starving people who let the women do all the work while the men fought among themselves. The women were rough and ragged. Both sexes were hard to deal with as regards business, which could be conducted only after much Oriental bartering. But gradually we concluded that these were conditions brought on by over six years of war, in which the Albanians had been the victims of other Powers. The Famous Bazaar In two ways the Section won for America immortal fame among the Albanians. The first was due to our bazaar. When the Section was ordered back to France, we were told to travel without much baggage. Having come down with a full winter equipment, we had much to dispose of, and an auction was started in the reception-room of our Koritza house. The word quickly passed around, and for a week the place was packed with bartering and bicker- ing natives. They were eager to get anything American, having had no foreign goods for years, but insisted on the Oriental haggling before buying. Prices soared, but the goods sold. The other cause of American renown was a farewell reception given us by the missionaries and Albanians — Mahometans and Christians alike, where more than half of the natives were of Turkish faith. They called for musical selections from the Americans when we had gathered in the missionary school. So the missionaries asked Aupperle for some lively airs, explaining that he was an artist at "rag music." Aupperle took the stool, and as the piano began to shake and "Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny" thundered out, heads began to rise out of the crowd everywhere to see what he was doing to the piano. The Albanians were dumbfounded. Then the reception needed a fitting climax. Translated speeches on both sides did not seem ample. Finally some one had the happy 34 SECTION TEN thought to suggest a college yell, and we gave a "Sky- rocket" for Albania. When we had finished, they were too amazed for words, and it was several minutes before they could recover breath enough to clamor, "Do it again." We did, but even then they were not convinced that it was a human effort, and some of them visited the mission- aries next morning to ask how it was that "the Americans cheered like a machine." Leaving Albania for Good Monday, October 22, after barely three months of serv- ice, the Section bumped for the last time over the nar- row, cobbled, crooked streets of Koritza in the White truck and saw for the last time the Republic of Koritza. The Field Service sections in France were being taken over by the newly arrived American Army, but the United States War Department, we subsequently learned, had refused to adopt the Field Service sections in the Balkans, because the United States was as yet at war only with Germany, and there were no German troops engaged on the Balkan front. It was considered unneutral to have ambulance sections serving with troops opposed to the Austrian and Bulgarian armies. Hence we had been recalled to France. Under orders from the Field Service Headquarters we turned over all our cars, tools, spare parts, and equipment to the French formations with which we had been serving, and made a rather hasty departure. After twice almost going over embankments as the lorry skidded on the muddy Pisadori Pass, we arrived at Fiorina Station, and soon were off again on our wander- ing, going first to Salonica now ruined and blackened, then down the Greek coast in a little Greek liner, to Athens, where we spent a week, and then up to Bralo in Central Greece, over the Parnassus Pass to Itea, and on the Gulf of Corinth, to Italy, and thence by train to France, following in the wake of the Italian reserves. Paris seemed like home after the crude customs of 35 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Albania, and it was days before we could pass pastry- shops without entering them, or keep from staring blankly at every good-looking girl. A week after the arrival in Paris, we were in eight different branches of service, and Section Ten became only a fine memory of a wonderful five months of our lives. Frank J. Taylor1 1 Of Los Angeles, California; Stanford University; served with Section Ten in the Orient from July to November, 1917. VI After the Battle Koritza, Albania, September 21, 1917 Fighting on this front is very different from the species presented on the Western Front. There are few heavy guns and no massing even of soixante-quinzes. The French used only thirty, tout-ensemble, in this last "drive." The two factors which necessitate this difference are the great distance from supplies and the mountainous nature of the battle-front. All supplies from Salonica come on a little single track, then must be loaded on camions, the number of which is not sufficient to handle a great offen- sive ; and from camions they must be again transferred to mules or two-wheeled wagons, on which they make an- other journey of some thirty kilometres to the front. The roads are not good, and lead over strenuous hills, making the camion part of the journey slow, tedious, and expen- sive. The French attack occurred in the region of Lake Ochrida, the objective being to push the line forward to a point where it would interrupt the German supply artery from Durazzo to Monastir. Also the French wished to gain a road from Koritza to Monastir previously held by the Boche, and which wound around the northern end of Lake Presba. I was wakened at three the morning the attack started and was sent out to poste. I made the acquaintance of a French lieutenant, and we climbed up a hill to watch the sport. The French held one range of hills and the Austrians a parallel range of loftier moun- tains. Between was a green valley traversed by a small river. French batteries in the valley and others behind the French line of hills undertook to silence the Boche guns on the opposing mountains. We could see the flashes of the French battery in front of us in the valley, con- 37 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE cealed from the enemy by a high grove of trees, then hear the nervous, metallic crack of the guns, and then, strain- ing our eyes, could see the sudden burst of dust as the shell broke near the enemy trench. The French main- tained a superior fire throughout, silencing most of the enemy guns, and ripping up some of their trenches. Then the infantry charged up the hill and took it. It was cer- tainly some feat, for the other day Aupperle and I climbed up to the German positions, taking our time, and we were certainly winded and tired when we finally gained the summit. However, I am not sure how much resistance they met with, as they were opposed by Czech-Bohemi- ans who surrendered more than willingly in the majority of instances. From the first attack on it was " duck soup " for the French, who chased them over a dozen succeeding ranges of hills. The major part of the fighting was done by Moroccan horsemen, a wonderful body of troops, riding splendid stallions, who preceded the infantry, driving back the Boches and charging the most stubborn heights on foot. A regiment of Senegalese from Africa — tower- ing, jet-black negroes — also participated to a large and satisfactory extent. Altogether the French pierced to a distance of some fifty-five kilometres, a distance, if gained on the Western Front, which would certainly make consternation reign in Berlin. We followed close behind the troops, preceding the ravitaillement, and driving over some of the damned- est roads I have ever seen. In some places it was so steep that every one, even the assis, had to get out and walk. On one grade a squad of brancardiers was detailed to help us over; they have a regular camp there now, whence they sally forth at the despairing sounds of our approaching Fords. The French now have a boat on Lake Ochrida, to clear the lake of hostile craft, part of the shores of which they at present occupy. It was put on a train at Salonica, and then trucked by camion over all sorts of roads the last 38 SECTION TEN hundred kilometres. It weighs nine tons, and has a 58 mm. cannon, and a couple of machine guns. No "Dutch " peri- scopes have as yet been sighted on the lake, but they are expected daily. The whole business makes quite a re- freshing piece of news after all the scientific and precisely manipulated warfare of the Western Front. They took a bunch of prisoners, most of whom come either from Dalmatia or Bohemia. We talked with a lot of them, and they all seemed sincerely glad to be cap- tured, as they had had little to eat and showed that plainly by the emaciated condition of their bodies. Most of them cared not a bit which side won, and some seemed to be in sympathy with the cause of the Allies. A few, however, thought that the war would last a considerable time, and the Boches be finally victorious. Almost all of the French poilus whom I carry and ask when they think the war will end, say uBienot — trois mois." They are all very fed up with being so far away from illa belle France" Burnet C. Wohlford 1 1 Of Escondido, California; Stanford University, '18; in S.S.U. ioof the Field Service, June, 1917, to November, 1917; served with the U.SA. Ambulance Service during the war. 7~J.S-cf£^ ***■ yt:/■**■''j*f* MtfiT- VII Made an Officer Albania, August 8 1 am now an officer, the Sous-Chef of the Section, and quite largely responsible for the actual condition of the Corps, so that with the fearful rush we stepped into, I 've been kept humping. And so, since it is my duty to super- vise the spare parts department and be in command of the French mechanics who repair the cars, the combina- tion of circumstances has provided what I 've long been longing for on this side — something real to do. The past ten days I have risen promptly at 6 a.m., worked all day with time out for meals, and knocked off at 8 p.m., read- ing from then until 9 or 10, when I have rolled under for the "eight hours." Being an officer certainly has its advantages and its drawbacks. The chief of the latter is the being called on to order men I've "bummed" through college with as friends for two, three, or four years. I think it's as hard for them to obey, or rather acquiesce. The privileges are, primarily, better quarters, better accommodations, and better food when travelling, more opportunity for work, and a valet. Oh, yes, a valet! He's an Albanian who has been to America, and speaks English, Albanian, Greek, Serbian, and French. We call him "Rapide," because he is slow, and he helps in the kitchen outside of "office hours." Carl Randau and I have for quarters a large room with five barred windows, in a one-story Albanian stone bun- galow, quite near the Section's main quarters. The place is surrounded by a three-foot-thick, ten-foot-high stone wall, with a mediaeval fortress gate, barred at night by eight-inch square oak timbers. All this because of bandits, you see. The walls and ceiling of the room are tinted an 40 \ SECTION TEN exquisite pink; the fireplace and mantel between the two front windows are a glowing Lake Tahoe blue; while the row of closets at the back of the room is a livid green. The door matches the fireplace. The floor is bare, with holes in it. We each have a folding iron bed brought from the French front, and over them we have draped mosquito nettings, completely encircling each bed and extending five feet above them. They look like posters. Each of us has unearthed a table, and these are already covered with the usual litter of books and papers and lamps. With the officership goes a big, ugly automatic, all loaded, to lay on the table against assault and as a paper-weight. On the whole, everything is O.K., and we have made our- selves quite comfortable here. From Pittsburgh to Albania — Bartering August 18 Recently I was sitting on my running-board waiting for my engine to cool after a steep hill, when along came a ballet-skirted Albanian clubbing a donkey. I was feeling "funny," so I called out in English, "Hello, Joe, what ye beating that donkey for?" And he came right back, "Hello!" And then admitted that he was from Pitts- burgh, Pa., U.S.A. What a reversion! From Pittsburgh to beating a donkey across a lonely Albanian pass, the while clothed in that incongruous garb! The Road is life! There's more music and religion in the Road, especially the Mountain Road, than in all the stone temples of the world. September 17 I 'm preparing to go to Koritza on the 1st and celebrate my twenty-first birthday. Such an unthought-of place for me to celebrate my majority! Still, I look at it as an omen of an interesting life. If I 'm here now and I Ve seen what I have seen when I 'm only twenty, what shall I not have seen and done when I 'm fifty? It's a question and a promise, if only the war don't last too long to bring 41 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE about a tragedy of lost ambitions and energies. If it lasts many years longer, that will be one of the tragedies — broken, dismayed youth. William J. Losh 1 1 Of San Francisco; Stanford, '17; in the Field Service, Section Four- teen, March to June, 1917; Section Ten, July to November, 1917. as Sous-Chef; subsequently First Lieutenant, U.SA. Ambulance Service, with the French Army. These are extracts from home letters. Section Twelve THE STORY TOLD BY I. Croom W. Walker, Jr. II. Julien H. Bryan III. Ralph N. Barrett SUMMARY Section Twelve left Paris on February 7, 1917, bound for Bar-le-Duc. It stopped first at Longeville, then at Vadelain- court arid Jubecourt. With Dombasle as its base, the Section worked Esnes and the Bois d'Avocourt. It was at the former place the Section first saw action. Twelve later worked in the Sainte-Menehould, Suippes, and Chalons sectors. It was at Vaux-Varennes, its next and last move as Section Twelve, in a chateau located in a valley surrounded by the high hills of France, that it was taken over by the American Army, there- after to be numbered Six-Thirty of the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. Section Twelve I see them, men transfigured, As in a dream, dilate Fabulous with the Titan-throb Of battling Europe's fate; For history's hushed before them, And legend flames afresh, — Verdun, the name of thunder, Is written on their flesh. Laurence Binvon I Leaving Rue Raynouard The big majority of the Section came over on the same boat, the Espagne, and landed in Bordeaux on January 17, 1917. We arrived in Paris on the 19th. Then began our initiation into the Field Service and our acquaintance with those never-to-be-forgotten French official papers that we all had to have and now keep as precious sou- venirs of bureaucracy. We more or less wandered out to "21" and there began our service and career as ambu- lance men. For a while we loafed around, listening wide- eyed to the wondrous tales of the permissionnaires, put- ting Fords together, gathering enough equipment to go 45 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE to the North Pole, and spending every cent we could lay hands on. Finally came our assignment to a body to be known as Section Twelve and our introduction to our prospective Chef, Harry Iselin; whereupon we were shown our cars and got to work on them. Then came the farewell dinner, at which we were addressed by several prominent Frenchmen and our own chief Mr. Piatt An- drew. On February 8, we left rue Raynouard bright and early, with the good wishes of all, including Fisher, who had been "to the mat" with each of us in attempting to beat into our heads the whys and wherefores of a Ford. Well, anyway, we got under way somehow or other, and our joys and troubles began. We managed to make our first stopping-place, Champigny, without any mis- haps to speak of. But new cars were beginning to show off, and expert chauffeurs were beginning to be less boastful. Wheels would not steer and carburetors would not car- burate, and drivers would not work, but argued the ques- tion in the middle of the road as to whether the actual complication was in the top or the differential. Meanwhile our soft-voiced mechanic cussed and swore. We managed it, though, and arrived at Montmirail about 8 p.m., tired and cold. Strangely, and much to our surprise we had a wonderful meal cooked by our more-than- marvellous Andy. Then weary and sleepy, we crawled into a hay-loft for a good night's rest. Early the next morning we were on the way again, stopping at Sezanne for luncheon. The afternoon's journey was accomplished without mishap and we arrived at Sommesous, where we spent the night in a barn with the horses and pigs. A Stay at Longeville — Verdun and Esnes By the next noon we made Vitry-le-Francois, had lunch, and arrived at Longeville, by way of Bar-le-Duc, about eight that night, again cold, tired, and hungry, but still enthusiastic. All ears were cocked for guns: for some of us poor benighted innocents thought we were at the front. In Longeville we spent many speculative days, were 46 SECTION TWELVE finally assigned to a division, where we met that never- to-be-forgotten Frenchman, Dr. Rolland, the Medecin Chef of the I32d, and on the morning of February 28, the Division at length started for the front. We hesitated at Vadelaincourt, and at last arrived at Jubecourt, from which, on March 14, we left for Dombasle-en-Argonne, where we relieved Section One, and commenced our work near the historical Hill 304 and Mort Homme, a region just about as alive with batteries as any I have ever seen in France. Later we went out to look over that wonderful little spot, our poste de secours at Esnes. Over the top of the hill, above Bethelainville, we blithely rolled; we even began to descend, every one agreeing that it was a wonderful sight and feeling quite brave. However, Montzeville came into view, and with it the shells began to fall. We got through all right, though, and started for Esnes. This road from Montzeville to Esnes ran for some three kilo- metres parallel with and in plain sight of the trenches. Incidentally it was practically the only means of com- munication with our hill, and consequently all troops, supplies, artillery, ammunition, and so on passed over said route. One knows too well what happens on that kind of a road. Suffice it to say that many a night we were scared stiff as we rolled over it, praying with all our souls that our well-beloved voiture would keep chugging on all four pegs. Lord! the memories of that road! Flying artillery with the caisson hitting both sides of the road at once; tired, dusty soldiers, ravitaillement wagons, and those damned little donkeys, carrying ammunition, which simply would not get out of the way; everywhere wreckage, broken wagons, overturned guns, with always shells whipping through the air. Well, we arrived at Dombasle on the 14th and got set- tled nicely in about the most comfortable and likable cantonment we ever had, then Section One rolled out and we started to work. The first cars went out to the postes and came back with wonderful tales of our good fortune 47 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE in being attached to a division with such wonderful bran- cardiers. And right here I want to express our thanks to our friends, the little priest, Bouvier, and the ever- present and cheerful cyclist and photographer, Barde- linni, who did so much in different ways to make pleasant our life at the front. Everything, in fact, went along smoothly for a few days; then the very devil broke loose. An Attack — All Cars Rolling About four or five o'clock on one Sunday afternoon, Houston1 and McLane were, I believe, at Esnes, while I was at Montzeville, the halfway poste. The other boys were having just about as hard a time, if not worse, at other postes. Along about four a terrible barrage started, and some thirty minutes later Houston stuck his head in the abri door at Montzeville and gave me the word to go up to Esnes. On the way up, I passed McLane with a load and in a few minutes was on my way back myself. From then on, for a long period of hours, it was just one continual roll, roll, roll. Things were happening thick and fast; night.came on, and still there was no let-up. Cars began to get into trouble, the traffic was awful, and still faster and faster the blesses came pouring in. All credit must be given to our Chef, who, although a new man, gave a wonderful example of command and direction. He, too, had the hard job of keeping us all up and going, notwithstanding the excited state we were in. How a man could keep awake as long as he did without going under has always been a mystery to me. Then there was the incident when the cars, first rolling out to Esnes and things getting pretty hot, were met by the little priest with these words, "Well, I knew you boys would come, anyway." One can imagine how these wrords affected us and how we worked after that. Later, by the way, one of the boys told about being in his little cubby- 1 Henry H. Houston, 2d, of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; University of Pennsylvania; who after America entered the war, became a Lieutenant in the U.S. Field Artillery and was killed in August, 1918. 48 THE CHATEAU OF ESNES " l'OSTE." BEHLND IT LIES HILL 304 CAMOUFLAGE OX THE ESNES UOAI) JIST BEFORF: ENTERING MONTZEVILLE. MORT HOMME IS IN THE DISTANCE SECTION TWELVE hole in the abri and hearing, early one morning, one of the priests offering a prayer. He prayed for the soldiers, for the Allies, for the officers, for France and all the stricken and wounded, and lastly he said something that made this boy prick up his ears: "And for the young American volunteers who have come to us of their own free will from that great nation across the seas, who daily and gladly risk their lives in order to ease the suffering and do, what they say, is just their little part, — may the good God watch over and protect these and bless them as France thanks them. Amen." This prayer was spoken in French and without any idea that it was being over- heard. This was the sort of thing that made the Section what it was in all its future work. By the 20th the attack was over and things became more or less normal, though there was plenty of work always at that particular part of the line. When America Declared War Then we woke up one morning about April 6, 1917, and learned that the United States had declared war on Ger- many. Never were we happier and never were we treated better or welcomed with more enthusiasm than when we carried the news out to the front. Bottles of wine were unearthed, and we were patted on the back until we felt as though we ourselves had been responsible for the declaration. To cap the climax we were informed at this moment that five of our number had received the Croix de Guerre for the work done during the attack of the 18th to the 20th. These men were singled out for distinc- tion, but there was not one in the Section who did not work hard and well during those three terrible days. On April 12 our Division left the trenches and we were again relieved by Section One. We lined our cars up along- side of the road, all loaded and ready to start, and Section One rolled in amid much tooting of horns and shouting, again taking its old place in the line. We got our convoy under way sadly, for we had spent many happy days in 49 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE the little old knocked-down and kicked-about village of Dombasle. We went with our Division as far as Senard, where, after having made camp and expecting to stay en repos for a while, we were suddenly ordered up and were on our way again in thirty minutes' time. We were transferred from our old Division to the 71st, much to our sorrow, for we had learned to love and respect our comrades, who had gone into line with us ninety-five per cent strong and had come out with only about fifty per cent left. All left the 133d Division with regret, for we were much liked there, as this official farewell from the Mede- cin Chef, Dr. Rolland, testifies: "On quitting us, Section Twelve leaves behind it a feeling of unanimous regret among all the brancardiers of the Division. Coming from a very distant land to share in the defence of a good cause and lend their aid to our wounded, these friends of France displayed from the very start the finest qualities. Scarcely a month ago they knew nothing of the dangers of war, and without any previous preparation, in a most danger- ous sector, and at a most critical period, they took up their new work in a fine spirit of courage and devotion, thereby personifying the splendid characteristics of their great nation. In a few days they inscribed their names on the honor roll of their Division. The Medecin Chef cannot let you depart without thanking you warmly for your aid on all occasions and without expressing his regret at being thus separated from such worthy comrades in this struggle." Changes in the personnel now occurred. Second Lieu- tenant Bayard was called away and replaced by Lieuten- ant Rene Posselle, under whom it was our good fortune to work thereafter. The Argonne From Senard we went to Sainte-Menehould, where we found our new Division in line and where our work was rather quiet, and we learned to know the villagers and 50 SECTION TWELVE were met by the utmost courtesy and consideration on the part of the French soldiers and officers. Here we spent about a month, having gained additions to our family in the persons of Bradley, Sinclair, and a few others. About this time, too, Houston and Dunham left us for the school at Meaux, subsequently becoming chefs of motor transport sections, while our Chef, Iselin, went also to the same place. Ray Coan was appointed Chef and Alan McLane Sous-Chef. Here we had a wonderful party with Section Thirteen that had just come down from the lines with an army citation to its credit, which event, of course, had to be celebrated. From Sainte-M6nehould we went to Billy-le-Grand, where we spent two or three days, and then to Recy, near Chalons-sur-Marne, where we stayed en repos for about a month, during which period we had little else to do but play cards, fight, eat, sleep, and generally enjoy ourselves. Along about this time the Section began to break up badly. Benney1 went into French Aviation, where he was subsequently killed at the front. He, with Harry Craig2 and Waller Harrison,3 who were subse- quently killed in the American Aviation Service, and Henry Houston, who was later killed in the Artillery, were the only members of the original Section to make, so far as is known, the final sacrifice. We render them all due honor, and salute them as comrades who never faltered in their duty and who were over-eager to accept service of any kind. They went to their deaths as men should, 1 Philip Phillips Benney, of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; joined the Field Service in January, 1917; served with Section Twelve until July, 1917; sub- sequently entered the French Aviation Service and was killed in an air bat- tle in February, 1918. 2 Harry Worthington Craig, of Cleveland, Ohio; University of Wiscon- sin, '19; went to the front with Section Twelve, remaining with it until July, 1917; he was later in American Aviation and was killed in action in August, 1918. 3 Waller Lisle Harrison, Junior, of Lebanon, Kentucky; Oberlin, '19; joined the Field Service in February, 1917, and served in Sections Twelve and Three until November, 1917; subsequently joined the U.S. Aviation Service and was killed in an accident in October, 1918. 51 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE serving their country to the last moment. A little later Faith left us for the same service, while Tenney, Har- rison, and Sinclair wended their way to the Orient to enter the sections which had gone down there, where were already two of our former number, Kelleher and Chauvenet. A little later Croom Walker took charge of a new section going to the front. Finally, the 8th of July arrived, the first period of enlistment was up, and when the Section made its next move very few were left of the original members. From Recy, the Section went to Suippes, in the Cham- pagne district, where it stayed for a while and then shifted over toward Reims. There it migrated around from vil- lage to village, finally landing in the little hamlet of Vaux- Varennes, where the recruiting officers of the United States Army found it, and old Twelve of the American Field Service passed out of existence. Gone but, we are sure, not forgotten. Croom W. Walker, Jr.1 1 Of Chicago, Illinois; University of Virginia; joined Section Twelve of the Field Service in January, 1917; subsequently a First Lieutenant, U.SA. Ambulance Service. II The Farewell Dinner — En Route One of the finest speeches I have ever heard was given at our farewell dinner in 21 rue Raynouard by M. Hugues Le Roux, a famous French journalist and adventurer. He told us in almost perfect English how he had lost his only son early in the war, and he bravely described how that one had died and how he had barely managed to get to the bedside and hear the story from the boy's own lips before the latter passed away. He showed us why the work of the Field Service meant so much to him, because his boy when wounded had been left for days at the front on account of the insufficiency of the ambulances; and he made every man who had come from a mere desire for adventure, feel that it was really his duty to help France. Among the others who gave stirring speeches at the din- ner were Mr. Andrew, and Mr. Frank H. Simonds, the well-known war correspondent. Longeville, Monday, February 14, 1917 There was no room for us in Bar-le-Duc Saturday, and we had to push on to this little place where we slept in an old barn. But the close atmosphere drove us to our cars. I have made a regular little cabin out of mine. A good- sized bundle of straw, spread over the floor of the car, makes a fine mattress and for my heating and lighting system I have two kerosene lanterns. I am writing now sitting up in bed with my mackinaw on, since the heaters are not always too efficient. Pretty soon it will become stuffy, and then I shall throw back the canvas flap and the side windows and go to sleep. Longeville, February 26 On Thursday we had our first evacuation work. At Haironville we picked up two assis and a couche. The 53 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE latter was in bad shape, and we had to drive back very carefully. We dropped all three cases at the big hospital in Bar, and then speeded home by the canal road. Incidents at the Front Jube"court, March 8 I have just returned from the regular nightly rat hunt. It is a pastime not very well known in America, but very popular here at the front. Every evening we collect our clubs and flashlights and raid an old barn near the river. Two or three of us usually rush in together, flash our lights about until we spot a rat, and then fall upon him with our sticks. It takes a good clean shot to kill, and we consider ourselves lucky if we get two or three in an evening. Inside " Shenickadaydy," Jubecourt, March n The General commanding our Division passed through the village this afternoon and reviewed the Section. Our orders were to stand motionless beside our cars and look straight ahead. But the General was a good-natured old fellow and spoke to several of the men as he passed, in- stead of marching formally by, funeral fashion. Dombasle-en-Argonne, St. Patrick's Day, 1917 With the exception of a few road-menders, we are the sole occupants of the place. The peasants were all forced to flee after the shelling. Yesterday late in the afternoon I went with Craig to learn the road. Immediately upon leaving the village we came into plain sight of the trenches. I experienced the same shivery feeling here which one often has at home before getting up to make a speech in school. You try to tell yourself everything is all right, but still you seem to quiver all over. However, from the glances I stole at Craig now and then, I knew that he was just as worked up as I was. This idea seemed to cheer me immensely, and I felt much more at ease afterwards. I wonder why this should be so! 54 SECTION TWELVE In the abri of the poste de secours at Esnes, March 20 A little after noon on Sunday the heaviest bombard- ment we have yet heard started. I was given the Esnes run, the one I had made with Craig, and where I am now, waiting until a full load of blesses arrives. Finally I man- aged to get to the chateau and found three grands blesses waiting for me outside. I drove very slowly and carefully on my return trip, but sometimes I struck a bad hole which I had n't seen and the poor fellows moaned and shrieked pathetically. But finally I managed to get them into Dombasle. Then I went back to Esnes again for more, and kept on working until four o'clock the next afternoon. I did n't sleep for thirty-five hours, and some of the men, those who had been on duty before, went for four or five hours more than this. The result of our two days' work, ending Tuesday night, was 377 wounded carried a total distance of 10,000 kilometres, which, the crowded condition of the roads being taken into account, was no small achievement. Dombasle, March 24 I crawled into my blankets here at three o'clock this morning. They sent me out about ten last evening on a special call to Poste Two. I had three runs down to Ville with some blesses from a German coup de main, and this kept me going for some time. Fortunately there was a full moon or I should have had a terrible time in the woods. " Barney" Faith and I laid in a supply of wood this afternoon which ought to last us a month. But it is still pretty cold, and Bradley and Cook keep the fireplace so well filled up that we have to have two or three cords on hand all the time. We keep it stacked up in the corner where the piano used to be. The two of us ran my ambu- lance down the street to the wreck of an old mansion, filled the back chock full of banister pickets, assorted furniture, and wainscoting which we tore from the walls, and carried it back to our one-room apartment on the hill. 55 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Dombasle, March 28 Chauvenet has just come in from Poste Two. On his way out a "210" landed in the middle of the road just in front of him, and a great piece of steel tore through the top of his car not ten inches from his head, and dropped into the back of the ambulance. He did not know that the car had been touched until half an hour later, for he was so stunned by the force of the explosion, and so over- come by the shell-gasses through which he was forced to ride, that he barely got out alive. Every one is envious and wishes that it had happened to him — at least they say so. Un Couche Grave Dombasle, March 30 Thursday night the blesses from the morning attack began to pile in at Esnes. I went on at eight o'clock as a reserve. The first time down I had one couche who could n't stand the pain. He almost drove me crazy with his shriek- ing and yells of "For God's sake, stop!" And several times when I happened to hit, accidentally, a shell-hole or a log, he actually rose up in his agony and pounded with his bare fists upon the wall of the ambulance. But I knew I could n't help him by stopping, and I felt that I might save his life if I hurried. After I got out of Montze- ville, he quieted down, and I supposed this was because the road was so much smoother. But not until I stopped in front of the hospital at Ville did I learn the truth. The poor fellow had died on the road! In the abri at Poste Two, April 6 At supper to-night the good news came, which we, and especially the Frenchmen, have been waiting to hear for months — the United States had declared war on Ger- many. One of the brancardiers returning from his fur- lough broke the news to us. We were all below in the abri when he came rushing down the muddy stairs and shouted to us what had happened. And each one of those simple poilus wrung my hand. 56 I'OILL'S" OF TO--MORROW AND SO.MK OF THKIK AMERICAN FRIENDS WATCIIIXU A BATTLE IN TllK SKY SECTION TWELVE A Cantonment — and a Home Dombasle, April 13 Benney and I were talking before the fire in his room to-day and Gilmore was attempting to make hot choco- late, when a knock came at the door. He yelled, " Entrez," and, as the door slowly opened, we saw an old French couple standing on the threshold. This had been their home six months before, and now they had returned to look upon the wreckage. The woman wept when she saw the shell-hole through the ceiling, the broken furniture which we were burning, and the heap of old family treas- ures lying in one corner. We said nothing; we could n't say anything; but as they departed sadly, the man mut- tered, " It is not very nice, but after the war we will ..." and we heard no more. Benney and I were silent, and Gilmore forgot about his cocoa for a few minutes. It had never occurred to us before, when we tore a ruined house to pieces for firewood, and carted off all the old books and ornaments for souvenirs, that people like these actu- ally lived in the houses, or would ever return. Abri at Ferme des Wacques, July 1 To-day a young aspirant named Lucot took me around to the officers' abri and introduced me to his Captain and two Lieutenants, who invited me in to dinner. At dessert they told me they wanted some bright American girls for their marraines. So I wrote down the names and addresses of four of my friends at home who, I thought, would be willing to correspond with them. Then I described each one in turn and let each officer pick the one he wanted. It was very funny the way they debated about the girls. They decided that Lucot should take the youngest, who was very intelligent and quite small, because he also was young and small, although he did n't come up to the intelligence standard. The Captain preferred the tall and sedate brunette, because his grandmother was tall and sedate. The Lieutenants had a terrible dispute over the 57 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE remaining two, one of whom was a marvellous dancer and the other very beautiful. At last they ended the argument by throwing up a two-franc piece and calling the turn of the coin. Ferme de Piemont, July g It 's a true saying that a Ford will run anywhere you take it. Frutigerx ran his machine into a tree on the Suippes road; but instead of climbing it, as the Ford joke-book would have it, the car bounded over to the opposite side of the road and lay there for several minutes on its back with the rear wheels spinning around at a great rate, before he was able to shut off the motor. Then he waited until a couple of Frenchmen came along and with their help turned it right side up again. After this he thanked them and rode off as though nothing had happened. My last day with good old Section Twelve — July n, 1917 I left the Section for good to-day. I am going home. I 'd a thousand times rather stay in France until the war is over, but the family does n't agree with me. Therefore, I must go home to argue it out. Princeton opens in Sep- tember and I '11 be there with the rest. But next fall it will be France again. I have finished saying good-bye to the fellows. As for old 464,1 patted her radiator in a last fond caress and gave her a final drink of water five minutes ago. Dear old "Shen-ick-a-day-dy," as the poilus call her. Julien H. Bryan 2 1 Theodore Raymond Frutiger of Morris, Pennsylvania; served with Section Twelve from June to August, 1917; subsequently entered the R.O.T.C. where he died at Camp Colt, Gettysburg on April 19, 1918. 2 Of Titusville, Pennsylvania; Princeton, '21; entered the Field Service in January, 1917; served with Section Twelve until July. For his book, Ambulance 464, see the Bibliography in vol. in. — Ill Summary of the Section's History under the United States Army In September, 1917, and in October, 1917, the enlisting officers of the American Army visited the Section at Vaux Varennes (north of Reims). About the 15th of October, the Section moved en repos to Ablois Saint-Martin, near Epernay, where Chef R. Coan was commissioned a First Lieutenant. November 13 found us for the second time at Vaux Varennes with no more war for our delight than had formerly been the case. In early December, Chef Coan was called to Paris to be replaced by Lieutenant Fisher, who previously had had charge of the train- ing school at May-en-Multien. My diary depicts great disgust of the Section at the introduction of American Army rules and regulations. The banishment of trunks, the adoption of the ill- fitting American uniform, combined with the cold winter of suffering, did not permit us to remain long in a good frame of mind. There was very little work in the sector. On February 4, Lieutenant Fisher was replaced by Lieu- tenant Rogers. In the latter part of February, we moved to Prouilly for repos again, but on March 7, we left to return to Saint-Martin for the ultimate purpose of changing our divi- sion and receiving a new allotment of cars. On March 13 and 14 the change of cars was completed. On March 27, we received orders to leave Saint-Martin im- mediately and go to Meaux. The 5th Army divisions were being rushed north to aid in repulsing the big German drive on the Somme. We left Saint-Martin at six in the evening, ran an all- night convoy through Montmirail and La Ferte. Our first stop was early the next morning in Saint-Jean-les-deux-Jumeaux, outside Meaux by a few kilometres. At seven that night we received orders to proceed to Pont Sainte-Maxence, departing at once. During this convoy through Meaux, Senlis, and on to Pont Sainte-Maxence we began to get a glimpse of condi- tions in a big retreat. On Easter evening we left Pont Sainte- Maxence for an eighty-kilometre drive to Crevecceur-le- Grand, north of Beauvais. While waiting for further orders we cantoned in Marseille- le-Petit, and on April 4 orders came to go to Essertaux, about midway between Amiens and Breteuil. In the sector we had rather difficult work, all of us being kept busy continually. The Medecin Divisionnaire of the 127th rewarded us by " Une Cita- 59 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Hon d, VOrdre du Jour." On April n, we came again to Mar- seille-le-Petit for an indefinite stay, not being attached to one particular division, but serving with any which needed our aid. On April 23, orders came to move to Rumigny to aid in the de- fensive in the Bois de Hangard. Upon arrival in Rumigny, we were posted to Dury, thence to the Asile d'Alienes, outside Amiens. Nothing can better describe the affair of Amiens than what I wrote on the spot. "April 24. Berteaucourt and Domart. Called out on service in the early morning and reported at the G.B.D. of the 13 ie D.I. to assist S.S.U. 575 in their work. Little idea could we have had of the tremendous work we were going to do. Eight cars were wrecked in the attack. At Domart yesterday morn- ing, Charles Livermore was instantly killed, while going from the abri to prepare for a trip. The 140s D.I. called on us for aid to-day, necessitating five cars on service near Villers-Breton- neux." On May 4, we are back again in Marseille-le-Petit, sobered by the tragedy through which we have just come. We leave to- morrow for the front, and henceforth we are to be attached to the 6oeD.I. On May 9, we relieved English Section 10 at Gannes, a little village directly in front of Montdidier. Here we had excellent accommodations, but work was continuous. The First Division (American) was on our immediate left. In July, Lieutenant Rogers was replaced by Lieutenant H. G. Ford. In early August, a consciousness that something important was about to happen in our sector came over us, causing us all to prepare for any eventualities. On August 10, we were the first American military organiza- tion to enter the city of Montdidier after the German occupa- tion. August 11 found us in Faverolles, on the eastern side of Montdidier, with our outposts at Laboissiere, Fescamps, and stone quarries indiscriminately scattered about the country- side. Our stay in this locality was featured by heavy, consistent work, and by annoyance from the retreating enemy, who tried to make the way as difficult as possible for the advancing Al- lies. On August 30, we were in Fignieres for a day, and then moved back to the city of Montdidier for a repos. However, we did not stay there long, for on September 7, we arrived in La- boissiere once again. Later, we moved to Avricourt, thus keep- ing up as rapidly as possible with the advance. Avricourt was situated midway on the Grand Route between Roye-sur-Avre and Noyon. While here, we worked outposts at Beaulieu-les- Fontaines and the Canal du Nord. Early on the morning of the 60 SECTION TWELVE 8th of September, we entered Fretoy-le-Chateau, on the east- ern side of the Canal du Nord, having to cross the field and cross the canal almost in its bed. Postes were changing continu- ally, and to a man the Section was busy working irrespective of time, food, or weather. Soon after arriving in Avricourt, we moved our cantonment to Fretoy-le-Ch&teau, to stay one night or so, then moving on to Villeselve. While at these places, our regiments captured Nesle, Ham, and Guiscard. From Villeselve we quickly moved to Cugny, not far from the Canal Crozart, whence we could see Saint-Quentin. Here we discovered one of the emplace- ments of the " Gros Berthas " which did the long-distance firing. Cugny remained our cantonment for a much longer time than we really had expected. Outposts were advancing rapidly by demi-kilometres until we were well up to the Hindenburg line. Following Cugny the Section had a rapid succession of cantonments, at Montescourt, Essigny-le-Grand, and Marcy, beyond Saint-Quentin on the main road to Guise. Here, after our gallant 6oe D.I. had crossed the Oise and had maintained their positions there, we were relieved to be sent to the Vosges for a rest. Not long after our arrival in Saint-Die came news of the Armistice. Orders were immediately forthcoming for us to move into Alsace, which we did about the 15th and 17th of No- vember. Though this convoy was of not a long distance, it took us several days to accomplish it, due to the technicalities of the German withdrawal from Alsatian soil. Passing through Pro- vencheres and Saales, we made our first stop at Ville (Veiler). From there we went to Barr the next day, and two days follow- ing our arrival in Barr, on to Erstein-Schaeffersheim, twenty kilometres south of Strasbourg. In the post-Armistice months the length and breadth of Al- sace was ours to re-discover, of which opportunity we eagerly availed ourselves. December, January, and February passed for us in the rural community of Schaeffersheim. February brought vague rumors of going home, and finally we began our last trip. Early one morning, the 28th of February, we left Strasbourg for Paris by way of Saverne, Sarrebourg, Avri- court, Luneville, Saint-Nicolas-du-Port, Nancy, Toul, Void, Ligny-en-Barrois, Saint-Dizier, Vitry-le-Francois, Chalons- sur-Marne, fipernay, La Ferte, and Meaux. Ralph N. Barrett x 1 Of Boston, Massachusetts; Dartmouth, '18; entered the Field Service in July, 1917; served with Section Twelve and later in the U.S.A. Ambu- lance Service. Section Thirteen THE STORY TOLD BY I. Benjamin F. Butler, Jr. II. John M. Grierson III. Frank X. Laflamme SUMMARY Section Thirteen left Paris in March, 1917, going first to the Champagne, where it took part in the great French offensive of April. In May the Section worked the poste at Mont Cornil- let, where it received the first Army citation given to any Field Service Section. In June it moved to Sainte-Menehould, thence to Verdun. It was working on the right bank of the Meuse when taken over by the American Army, becoming Section Six-Thirty-One. Section Thirteen Though desolation stain their foiled advance, In ashen ruins hearth-stones linger whole; i Do what they may they cannot master France, Do what they can, they cannot quell the soul. Barrett Wendell I Sixty Hours from Boulevards to Wounded Section Thirteen left Paris on March 4, 1917, twenty strong, each man in his car, with Bertwal C. Read, for- merly of Section Eight, as our Chef. Two days later, we arrived at Chalons and pulled up in the square. Leaving our cars at one of the regimental parks, we hurried to a hot dinner arranged for us by our French Lieutenant, Pierre Emmanuel Rodocanachi, at the Hotel de la Haute- Mere Dieu. It was a godsend to cold and uncomfort- able novices at ambulancing such as we were, and our spirits soared, when, in addition, it was announced that we were attached to the 169th Division of the French Army, which would leave the next day for the front. This, in fact, happened, and we reached Sainte-Menehould at about six o'clock, where we learned that our billet was in a small town called MafTrecourt, about ten kilometres 65 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE distant, to which we continued. Here for the first time the members of the Section heard the guns at the front. No sooner had we arrived than a call came in, and Sidney Colford, with a brancardier, went up to answer it. Thus, some sixty hours after leaving rue Raynouard, we carried our first blesses. In the Champagne — Mont Cornillet — Villers- Marmery Our sojourn at Maffrecourt, while not really a busy one, taught us the ropes. We had practice in driving at night without lights and we became acquainted with the meth- ods of the French Army. One day in April our Division was moved. Twelve of our ambulances went up to our next stop at l'Epine, and the remainder of the cars took stations along the line of march to pick up men who developed sore feet or other injuries. Leaving l'Epine, our next cantonment was Champig- neul, where we remained a week or longer, awaiting orders and doing G.B.D. duty and a certain amount of evacuation to Chalons. At last came the welcome news that our Division was to move and take up what was to be its final position in the grand spring offensive, at Mont Cornillet. Our instructions were to have our cars in the finest possible condition, since it was expected by the general in command that there would be an opportunity to evacuate blesses over the ground that had been held by the Germans for such a long time. In fact, the Medecin Chef asked us if our cars would be capable of travelling over trenches and through ploughed fields. (He evidently did not know the Ford.) Thereupon we moved to Villers- Marmery where we were to be cantoned. It was the eve of General Nivelle's famous and disastrous attempt to break through the German lines in Champagne. In Villers-Marmery the streets were so congested with troops and transport wagons that it was almost impossi- ble to manoeuvre our cars. The first night there we parked our machines along a road next to what was to be our 66 SECTION THIRTEEN triage hospital, though our duties were not to begin for two more days. Sleeping-accommodations were of the crudest, some of us bunking in cars, while others found refuge in a leaky old barn recently evacuated by troops, but not by all forms of life. The fellows in the cars had the best time of it, as there was a cloud-burst that first night and the barn was very wet. Dawn broke cold and damp. We spent the day arrang- ing our permanent cantonment, which was in an old rooming-house on the outskirts of the town, and used before the war for employees of the champagne industry, Villers-Marmery being one of the centres of wine manu- facture. The second night proved to be even worse than the first, and at about two o'clock in the morning the English section which was serving this town found that there were more blesses than they could handle and so routed us out to aid them. We travelled over roads in the inky blackness that none of us had ever traversed before. Real Work Our real work began the next day. We were to serve the postes of Thuizy, Prunay, Wez, and a dressing-station in the third-line trenches that we called the "Boyau." All of these postes were under severe shell-fire, as were the roads approaching them. In fact, the whole locality looked unhealthy. All of our runs were in the neighborhood of Thuizy, which was a half-wrecked village, with French batteries situated all around it and in it. The poste de secours, an old chateau about the centre of the town, was really a beautiful structure. Some of its attractiveness, however, was lost because of its situation in the midst of batteries, which constantly drew the Boche fire. From Thuizy we ran up to Wez, a town in the immediate vicinity and even more perilous, where the poste de secours was movable, changing as it was blown up, which made it at times diffi- cult to find. Prunay was the prize of this trio of postes. It could be 67 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE approached over a stretch of a kilometre and a half that had once been a road, but at that time was a series of interlocking shell-holes which changed in contour from day to day. When we got a call to this place, we went as far as the outskirts of Wez, stopped our cars, and, peering around a wall, would decide on our next step — for at times it would have been impossible to make the run and escape alive. In such a case, the conducteur would sit down behind what cover he could find and wait. At other times, one could go right through. The poste itself was a dugout. The " Boyau " was approached by a road that ran out from Thuizy for about three kilometres to a cross-road ar- tillery observation post, called the "Pyramides," where, turning to the left for a distance of a kilometre and a quarter, it crossed two lines of old trenches and ended at a sap, fed from the third-line trench. Here was the dress- ing station. There was no cover for our cars, which were in sight of the Boches, who, however, never shelled us here, except on one or two occasions when the ambulanciers got too careless in wandering around the neighborhood, when there would be eventually a grand hegira for cover. In order not to risk losing all the cars by one unlucky shell, we made three groups of the seven cars assigned to the Boyau. The first of these groups consisted of three cars, parked on the outskirts of Thuizy; the second, of two cars, hidden in a belt of woods just before one reached the cross-roads; while the third consisted of two cars at the Boyau. It may be added, in passing, that at these postes five of our cars were actually hit. Narrow Escapes There were, of course, a number of times when we had narrow escapes. One of the most spectacular of these occurred on the road from Thuizy to the Pyramides. One afternoon we, at the second poste, hearing arrives in the direction of Thuizy, looked down the road and saw one of our ambulances coming up as fast as it could go. This 68 SECTION THIRTEEN stretch of road was very exposed, but up to that time the Boches had not shelled ambulances at this point. However, from the spectacle that greeted our eyes, it was evident that they had begun, for on both sides and behind the flying car were rising fountains of earth and smoke, approaching closer and closer to the speeding vehicle. Never was a car more anxious to be elsewhere. The scene was nearly as exciting for us as for the driver. It came closer and closer, until we could recognize the machine as that driven by Hines. We knew that if he could make the belt of trees where we were standing, he would be comparatively safe; but could he do it? When he was only about five hundred yards from safety and we were just congratulating ourselves and him on his escape, the car was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of smoke. It seemed certain that he had been hit, and a Frenchman standing with us exclaimed: "Fini— mort pour la France." We were on the point of starting out to bring him in, when to our astonishment we saw the radiator and front wheels of the Ford come bounding through the swirling dust and smoke of the explosion, and a minute later Hines was with us. The Champagne Attack, 1917 — Evacuations It was about the end of April that we saw the first seg- ment of the French troops going up to open the great offensive in the Mont Cornillet sector of Champagne. These regiments were the flower of the attacking troops. They had been freshly recruited, equipped, and trained for this event which was to mean so much to France. Never had we seen men more fit or more ready for the work that was before them. Here was the situation: the Boches had retreated to this point after the Battle of the Marne, and for two and a half years had been entrench- ing themselves there. The objective was to dislodge them from these formidable positions and take the command- ing hills, Mont Cornillet, Mont Haut, Mont Blanc, and the Casque. This would mean an advance of from three 69 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE to seven kilometres over a terrain that seemed insuper- able, as it had proved in former attacks. The particular objective assigned to the troops with which we were con- nected was the occupation of the far slope of Mont Cor- nillet, made more difficult by the fact that the crest was raked by an enfilading fire of hundreds of heavy guns. Three days later, at two o'clock in the afternoon, the attack commenced, and by midnight the wounded began to arrive, at first in driblets, then more and more numer- ous. The next morning at eleven we received a message asking if we could spare five cars to the triage hospital at Pont d'lssu. This poste was served by a section of French ambulances, but there were more wounded than they could take care of. So five of us were assigned to this duty, which, on account of weather and road conditions, it was not easy to perform, for the route over which we were to transport our blesses was for the first three kilometres a sunken road running along a canal, and in a terrible condition, due to the heavy traffic of the past week and the constant rains. It was necessary to use low speed for this entire distance, and, even then, run as slowly as possible, to get your men through alive. The remaining seven kilometres were macadamized, and, with the usual bumps, choked day and night with three lines of camions, caissons, troops and all the other paraphernalia of war. Terrible Hospital Conditions — Rain The hospital itself beggared description. Rain had com- menced to fall again and was drenching the wounded for whom there was no place in the three long buildings that constituted the hospital proper. Inside, the stretchers were laid so close that no inch was left uncovered, and it seemed hopeless for the doctors to try and do anything; they were simply swamped, while outside was still a long line of horse and motor ambulances waiting to be un- loaded and then return to their postes de secours for more wounded. In front of one of the buildings was a group of a hundred or so suffering men, some standing, and others 70 SECTION THIRTEEN sprawled in the mud and water, poor fellows who had dragged themselves for five miles, some using their guns as crutches, others leaning for support on less severely wounded comrades. These men bore wounds of every kind, and, under normal conditions, many of them would have been stretcher cases. But on account of the conges- tion, every one who could stagger along had been forced to walk, and some of them had been waiting since the night before to be transported to the evacuation hospital, while more and more came hobbling in every moment. It was hard for us to believe that these shattered wrecks of humanity were the same men who had joked and laughed with us as they marched by a few hours before. We set to work and toiled the rest of that day, that night, and the next day; but still the wounded came in, and it did not seem that we were making any impression on the mass. No one stopped for food in all this time. The doctors worked like machines, their eyes sunk in their heads, and they went about their task as if in a dream. As for us, it was just back and forth over those same ten kilometres. When loaded, we had for company the moans and screams of the poor soldiers behind us. Every un- avoidable bump and depression on that terrible road wrung from their shattered bodies fresh agony, until it seemed that they could bear no more; and in fact, many of them did not, for too often, at the end of the run, one or more of the occupants of our cars had been released from his suffering by death. As the second day drew to a close, the flood of wounded from the front diminished, fortunately, to a marked degree. But the triage itself was even more congested than when we first arrived.- At about eight that evening, I stopped at the hospital long enough to snatch a bit of bread and meat. This was the first let-up that I had had, but there was no rest, with the appealing eyes of the occupants of that horror house fixed beseechingly on you, asking, as no words could, for the relief that we alone could give them. All that night our reeking cars continued 71 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE their trips. It was always the same thing — before your eyes stood the picture of those men waiting as they had been waiting for a day or more, and we able only to take a certain number and make comparatively few trips because of the need of gentleness. How we raced our cars back! The Last Day of Attack I shall never forget the dawn of the last day. Looking off toward the front, I could see the last star-shell curving up from the trenches, which meant the attack was still going on; that the important thing was the taking of the hill, that which I had been doing was nothing more than cleaning up the units which were out of it, and that this horrible suffering which I had seen was just a local, little thing, which had all been arranged for and would have no ultimate effect on the success or failure of the fight. It must require a certain hardness of heart, on the part of the Commanding General, to see all this and still continue to throw more and more men into the vortex of this hell from which these poor wounded ones had been spewed. And while my thoughts ran on thus, the guns continued to rumble, the ammunition went up to create more of the same havoc on the other side, lines of Boche prisoners under guard passed by, fresh troops went up along the road on the way to take the place of the men whom we had been bringing down, and still the mad attack continued. You could almost see the men throwing themselves against those concrete machine-gun defences that had not been shattered. That day the hill was taken, but at what cost! Shelling Villers-Marmery I go back a little chronologically to relate the following incident, which differs from most others in that it records my first witnessing of the wounding of soldiers. Of course, scenes like this have no great importance in themselves, yet remain in the memory because of a touch more personal than that of more stupendous events. 72 SECTION THIRTEEN It was an April night in 1917. Section Thirteen was cantoned at Villers-Marmery, fronting Mont Cornillet in the Champagne, where it was our task to evacuate the triage hospital, located in an old winery, in sight of the Boches. We had ten cars on duty, and they were kept fairly busy because of the wounded from the attack of the night before. As evening came on, more and more wounded were brought in. There had been no shelling of the town during the day, but for the past three nights the Boches had been firing at it about twenty rounds regularly at two o'clock in the morning. As dusk fell on this particu- lar day, we were wondering whether the performance would be repeated, which we thought would be the case, as these shameful brigands seemed to have an affinity for the neighborhood of the hospital. I "rolled" at ten o'clock with three couches for La Veuve, our evacuation hospital. After leaving my blesses, I returned by way of our cantonment, and just as the engine stopped, I heard the first shell of the evening, which fell among the graves of the cemetery some twenty-five metres from the main entrance to the hospital, and directly behind me. I knew this because a gravestone went over my head. The hospital presented much the same appearance as when I had left, except that the blesses who were not to be immediately removed had been placed in the cellar. The receiving-ward offered a quiet appearance, compared with the bedlam that was raging outside. The doctors, as is usual in the French army, when there is much to be done, were doing their duty with coolness and despatch, without regard to the fact that every minute might be their last. A tall, dark-bearded priest was accompanying the doctors. The French priests and Protestant ministers connected with the army take all risks and bring enor- mous comfort to the soldiers. They seem to feel that the power they represent protects them so that they need have no fear in ministering to the sufferings of the men. The blesses on the stretchers, on this occasion, were quiet, and there was little talking, so that one could hear the 73 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE whistle of the arriving shell, followed by the detonation, louder or fainter according to its proximity. While I was reporting to the Medecin Chef, there came a reverberating crash that fairly made the building shake. For a moment we thought that the hospital had been struck, but a man came in and reported that the shell had fallen across the street from the hospital in a court- yard where some men were sleeping. Four of us seized brancards and dashed over to find that the shell had pierced the wall of the court, bursting on the inside, where two men had been sleeping under the protection of the wall at this place, both of whom were severely wounded. In placing one of them on a stretcher, one of his legs came off in our hands, and, in the excitement of the moment, some one put the leg back, with the foot next to his head. I shall never forget the gruesome picture which that stretcher presented when we set it down under the electric light of the operating-room. This poor chap, I may add, died before they could operate on him, while the other, though badly shot up, was evacuated success- fully. Benjamin F. Butler, Jr.1 1 Of New York City; New Mexico State College, '16; served as driver and Sous-Chef of Section Thirteen from March, 1917; later a Sergeant in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. II Writing in a Dugout Minaucourt, March n, 1917 We are on duty here for twenty-four hours, ending to- morrow at noon. I am writing this in our dugout by the light of an acetylene lamp on a very dirty table in the midst of some French doctors and stretcher-bearers. The dugout is in the side of a valley a kilometre or two back of the lines, that side of the valley toward H.M. the enemy. On the other side, just opposite us, is a French battery which is being shelled occasionally, so that the Boche shells pass whining over us, not very far overhead, as we are nearly at the top of our side of the hill. Later I AM writing in the front of my car, as the concussion of the French guns opposite, which are coming back a bit now, kept putting out the lamp inside. Our cars, four of them, are lined up in front of the dugout. There was once a village on this spot, but the houses are now all torn to bits, with great jagged holes in the walls and gaping roofs. Opposite is the church, or rather what is left of it. One side is torn away, the steeple hangs over to one side, every window is smashed, and altogether it is a very pathetic sight. A Coup de Main — A Night Call March 12 We slept last night, the four of us, on stretchers in the dugout, which could n't have held another object, except perhaps a little more smoke up near the roof. I was first on call, and in the midst of a delightful snooze, I heard the telephone bell tinkle faintly. One can sleep perfectly well with a battery of howitzers working overtime out- 75 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE side, but at the sound of a knock on the door, or the tele- phone bell you come to life at once. Hearing the words voiture and blesse settled the matter, and I began putting on clothes and was ready when the sentry came back and said, "II faut une voiture a Promentoire (our advance poste)—deux assis, un couche." He also told me to look out, as there had been some sort of raid, a coup de main, and that the Boches were liable to be shelling a bit. I was rather excited by this time, as the sentry looked quite worried, due, I suppose, to thinking of the three men whose lives were to be entrusted for the next half- hour to a young and unknown stranger driving a Ford ambulance over a doubtful road at 2 a.m., without lights. It was bitter cold, and absolutely quiet when I pulled up to the poste, which was about a kilometre away. After turning around, we loaded the couche, and the two assis climbed painfully aboard, the stretcher-bearers bolted inside, while I closed up the back of the car, and we started off. There was no trouble at all, as there was a brilliant moon; but the worst part was finding the speed to drive at, as my couche was in quite a bad way and let it be known at each bump by groaning or knocking im- ploringly on the wood behind me, which — I not being at all calloused yet — made me feel very ashamed of myself. I reached the hospital all right and had the car unloaded. But I did n't dare to look my couche in the face; and started back after a cup of hot tea with some rum in it. But coming back was quite different. It had clouded up, and it was a lot harder to see the road, which for the last three or four kilometres ran among and in front of a lot of batteries. I was abreast of one of them when sud- denly there was a flash of fire, followed by a terrific crash on the side of the road to my left, which left me abso- lutely paralyzed, but still clutching the steering-wheel and going forward a lot faster than I should have been. Of course, I did n't know what it was, but supposed it to 76 SECTION THIRTEEN be a German shell aimed at the car, and wondered where the next one was going to hit. Then there were more flashes and explosions all around, and I realized that it was our guns opening up a barrage. It was very wonder- ful, indeed. The lines were a continual glare of light from hovering star-shells and rockets — red and green ones as signals of some kind: the most terrific noise I have ever heard. Luckily I had nothing to pass on the road for the rest of the trip. By the way, passing artillery transports at night is one of the things that keeps you on edge, while you grind by a long, jingling line of limbers, and pray, between shouts of ilct droite," that your rear wheel may not skid with a thud into the ditch three inches on your left. And all this goes on in almost absolute darkness, if there be no moon. The Champagne and Repos Villers-Marmery, May 8 We are now in a typically Champagne town, made of ancient-looking stone and with very narrow and winding streets. Last night I was standing at the top of one of the main streets which looks toward the lines down between the walls of the houses. As I was watching, a great red glare sprang up along the trenches in front of me, com- pletely putting in the shade all the constellations of star- shells, rockets, flares, and so on, that make the trenches so weird and the roads so impossible by night. The black arms of a windmill were slowly turning around in the foreground of the glare and, all about, our batteries were rumbling and spitting their nightly barrage. We seem now to have an attack every day, and are working hard; quite different from our first little quiet and serene sector at Maffrecourt. Later Found out that the red flame was caused by the explo- sion of a munition dump. 77 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE A Terrible Scene The night of May 25 was our worst moment, and the Section seems to have set a record for carrying the most wounded in the shortest time. We "rolled" with fifteen hundred of them in those twenty-four hours, over an average trip of ten kilometres — Germans, Africans, and Algerians, but mostly poilus. Two of our chaps, Thomp- son and Cassady, were wounded. In the early morning, our French Lieutenant, Pierre Rodocanachi, who through- out the long night had personally directed the loading of the cars, was struck by a large fragment of shell. Although seriously wounded, he insisted on continuing his task un- til the congestion of wounded was cleared, he being car- ried to the hospital with the last load. His leg was so seriously affected that it had to be amputated. About 4 a.m. when I rolled back to the poste, was the crowning moment of the night's work. A shell had gone through the roof of the dugout and exploded on the floor in the midst of the doctors, stretcher-bearers, and a few blesses waiting for a car. There was a regimental priest with me whom I had picked up on the way, and we broke in the door, blocked with debris. Pushing in, we were al- most choked by the powder and smell of things burning. The priest flashed a light, and by its uncertain glow we could distinguish a terrible mess of wreckage and bodies. Two or three poor chaps were conscious and were beg- ging for help. It was the most horrible thing I have ever seen. We got them out as best we could and laid them beside the road, and then I took down two who were still alive just as Brownlee Gauld, the chap who was working the poste with me at the time, came up. The Decoration — General Gouraud June 26 Yesterday, four of us in the Section were publicly deco- rated with the Croix de Guerre, for various deeds done in the Moronvillers attack. The pinning-on was done by 78 SECTION THIRTEEN General Gouraud, the hero of the Dardanelles. The, to us, momentous event took place in a meadow about three miles behind the lines, and we, together with some French officers and soldiers to be decorated, stood within a hol- low square formed by about fourteen hundred soldiers, and with the French colors behind us. And there were bands and prancing horses and the flashing swords of the officers, and the fourteen hundred bayonets glinting and glittering in the sun as the soldiers were put through the manual of arms before the ceremony. We four stood together in a row, and General Gouraud decorated us one after the other, shaking hands and say- ing a few words to each of us after he had pinned on the medal. And while he was pinning it on, there was abso- lute silence all over the place, every rifle presented and each officer's sword at his chin. When the General had ended his little speech to us, the band broke into a bar of the "Marseillaise" which was the most impressive mo- ment of all. And then the veteran — he had only one arm, one leg, and a padded chest, to say nothing of three rows of medals on his breast — would pass on to the chap next to you, leaving you struggling hard to keep looking straight ahead and not down to see if "it" was really there. Chateaux and Duty July 13 Men don't go down a road where they see shells landing in order to admire a chateau at the other end, or to show how smoothly their car rides, but if there is something to be done at the end of that road, there has never been a man in the Section who balked at his turn. The chap that "wins the marbles" is he who can come in after a par- ticularly bad day and night and take the trip of some- body else who is worse off than he is, though, when your nerves are en the ragged edge, you don't feel physically like taking on what is not absolutely necessary. And the camaraderie is great, too. If after three days' rolling, there 79 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE is a jam on the road, and somebody yells out to you, "For God's sake, pull your wheel over," and asks, " Why in the name of hell's bells don't you keep on your side of the road?" you don't get mad, for you know c'est la guerre! But the fellows who come in for the butt end of this sort of language are the outriders on the artillery caissons who rake off your lamps, and the fat cooks on the soup- kitchens, who will not move over. Croix de Guerre with Palm The General Staff of the Fourth Army was evidently satis- fied with Section Thirteen's little part in this great battle, for they have awarded it an Army citation — not a Di- visional or Corps citation, which would have been honor enough, but a citation in the orders of the Army itself, en- titling the section flag to a Croix de Guerre with palm. It is the first such award that has ever been made to any American ambulance section. The citation reads as follows: 4e A rmee Etat-Major Au G.Q.G. le 20 Juin, 191J Bureau du Personnel Ordre General N° Q2Q Le General Gouraud, Commandant la 4e Armee, cite a 1'Ordre de TArmee la Section Sanitaire Automobile Americaine No. 13: "Sous les ordres du sous-lieutenant Rodocanachi, a assure pendant l'offensive dAvril et Mai, 1917, le service des evacua- tions dans un secteur frequemment bombarde. Les conduc- teurs americains ont fait preuve de la plus grande endurance, de courage, et de sang-froid, notamment le 25 Mai au cours de la releve et du transport des blesses sous un bombardement meurtrier." Signe: Gouraud John M. Grierson1 1 Of New York City; entered Field Service, February, 1917, serving with Section Thirteen, and later as a First-Class Sergeant, U.S.A. Ambu- lance Service. Ill Summary of the Section's History under the United States Army It was while we were attached to the 6oth Division of French Infantry that we were taken over, on September 17, 1917, by the U.S. Army. This took place at Billy-le-Grand, in Cham- pagne. The last of September, we moved to Jalons-les-Vignes, in Champagne, and then to Belrupt, in the Verdun region, with work at the Carriere d'Haudromont in October. We were shortly detached from the 60th Division, and moved to Isson- <:ourt. This took place in the first part of November. On November 18 we moved to Conde-en-Barrois, where we were attached to the 63d Division, and on December 4, moved to the Verdun sector, near Cote 344 and C6te du Poivre. Our postes were at Vacherauville, Carriere des Anglais, Bras, and La Fourche. On January 20 we moved back to Conde-en-Bar- rois, and in the last days of January to Pierrefitte, near Saint- Mihiel. During the first week in February we moved to Triau- court, and on the 25th of that month to the Argonne, in the sector of La Harazee and the Four de Paris. We were cantoned in Sainte-Menehould for a few days, and later in Florent. In March, we took a sector to our right, with postes called "La Chalade" and "Chardon." On June 18 we moved to the Commercy sector, near Saint- Mihiel, with the 34th Division. We relieved a French ambu- lance section, which went to our old 63d Division. On August 1, we went to Sorcy, near Commercy. It was during the middle of August that we took a four-day convoy up to Amiens, and, with the 34th Division took over the lines at Lihons and Rosieres- en-Santerre during the Somme-Aisne offensive. We followed the advance as far as Saint-Quentin. Then came repos for a week near Amiens. We worked at the H.O.E. at Hatten-court this week. A week later, in the first part of October, we moved up to Saint-Quentin for the continuation of the Somme-Oise offensive. We followed this as far as Guise, where we were when the Armistice was declared. The Division left the lines, and went under orders to Paris, and we followed the march, via Mont d'Origny, Breteuil, Beauvais, Dieudonne, Montlignon, and Clichy. On February 11 we were given orders to go to Base Camp, en route for home. Frank X. Laflamme 1 1 Of Manchester, New Hampshire ; New Hampshire State University; joined Section Thirteen in June, 1917; subsequently served in the U.S. Army Ambulance Service with French Army during the war. 8l Section Fourteen THE STORY TOLD BY I. Joseph H. Eastman II. William J. Losh III. Franklin B. Skeele SUMMARY Section Fourteen, a Leland Stanford University section, sailed from New York as a complete unit on the 14th of Febru- ary, 1917, just after thebreaking-off of diplomatic relations with Germany. It went immediately to the front, working in the Verdun sector, then comparatively quiet. On April 15 it moved to the Toul sector, in the region of Commercy. At length it went en repos near Ligny-en-Barrois. On June 5 it journeyed to the Champagne, near Mourmelon-le-Petit, in the Moronvil- liers sector, where it remained until recruited into the United States Army, as Section Six-Thirty-Two. Section Fourteen Oh, it is n't in words that we show it — They're too feeble to tell what we feel; It's down in our hearts that we know it, It's down in our souls that it's real. So we stick to our work as we find it, And forget the caprices of Chance, For we know that the price of the big sacrifice, Is little enough — for France! Robert A. Donaldson I On the Pacific Coast Toward the close of 1916, one hundred and fifty students of Stanford University assembled and signified their will- ingness to abandon the classroom for ambulance driving on the Western Front. From these young men was se- lected a group of twenty which became known as the First Unit of Friends of France, and later as Section Fourteen. "Friends of France" is an association having a wide membership in California and was founded to promote cordial relations between the two Republics — "for Hu- manity and the Humanities." To its generosity and enthusiasm is due the success of the expedition and its 85 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE influence in awakening, on the Pacific Slope, interest in the War. On February 3, 1917, at the Palace Hotel in San Fran- cisco, the society gave a banquet and leave-taking to the young men of the unit, each of whom was presented with a brassard bearing the shield of the Society made by Mrs. W. B. Bourn, of the Friends of France; and on the following morning the students boarded their special car bound for the east. On February 14 they sailed from New York. Section Fourteen was the first section of the Field Serv- ice to come from the Pacific Coast, and in recognition of this fact, which was significant of the extending interest throughout the States in France and the war, the de- parture of the Section from Paris was marked with con- siderable ceremony. The farewell dinner at 21 rue Ray- nouard on March 15, which, according to custom, marked the leave-taking of sections for the front, was graced by the presence of the American Ambassador to France, Mr. William J. Sharp, and the former Ambassador of France to the United States, M. Jules Cambon, both of whom spoke eloquently of the growing rapprochement of the two Republics. Mr. Andrew, the Director of the Field Service, presided, and speeches were also made by repre- sentatives of the French Army and the officers of the Section, pledging their best efforts to the common cause. On the morning of March 16, the Section rolled out of the lower gate of "21," with its convoy of twenty-four new cars, bound for the front. Quiet Times near Verdun and Toul The Section first served at Montgrignon, carrying wounded into Verdun two miles away, and spent long hours in the captured German canal-boat waiting for the nine or ten cases that were carried down the canal during a shift. But after a time even the famed city of Verdun, which was being given a rest for the moment, began to lag in interest. So we were glad when, on the morning of 86 TYPICAL FIELD HOSPITAL —THIS AT CLAIRS-CHENES DEPARTURE OF A SECTION FROM THE LOWER GATE OF •RUE RAYNOUARD." SECTION FOURTEEN LEAVINCi FOR THE FRONT SECTION FOURTEEN April 14, orders came to pack, and by evening most of the cars were loaded for travel. The first stop was to put up for a few nights' lodging in a leaking and rat-infested shed along the side of the avia- tion hangars of Vadelaincourt, where some in the Section first contracted the aeroplane germ. Another short stop was made at Chardogne, near Bar-le-Duc, a hospitable and never-to-be-forgotten village far, far behind the world. Then we went on to the spacious quarters in the college at Commercy. If Verdun was having a rest, Com- mercy had declared peace! With less effort than it takes to tell it, the Section was able to serve postes de secours along a twenty-kilometre front, in addition to carrying the patients of six or seven evacuation hospitals. Artillery action could be seen from most of the postes at times, and at one of them it was, on occasions, even the traditional thing to take to the shelter of abris. Then all will remember that excitable station-master who al- ways made such a fuss over receiving "more cases than the hospital train would hold"; the streets that became cleared of terrified pedestrians when our cars appeared on the scene; the uncomprehending professeur of the college; and the comrades at the different postes — these were the high-lights. Nor in this enumeration of the memorable things of the region should we forget the pastry-shop life, for there Commercy stands on its own feet. Repos at Ligny-en-Barrois At length the French troops with whom we were associ- ated had become well rested and were moved forward in anticipation of entering a more active secteur of the front, and Section Fourteen took to the road at the same time. It went first to Ligny-en-Barrois, where, under the shade trees between the cathedral and the public school, our cars were parked during several idle weeks of springtime. Ligny is a town of rare charm where at evening towns- 87 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE people and the girls from the war factories promenaded about the square and along the paths through the forest park, and beside the river and canal. It was here, too, in the canal locks, that we fought out swimming and diving titles. Ambulanciers who had hitherto been listless toward the language now took new heart, that they might com- pete with the more studious, and likewise stand well in the eyes of feminine Ligny. As we were housed in the open near our ambulances, the boys often received callers, swarms of gamins and gamines overrunning at recess the cars that filled their playground, while the villagers at the forenoon hour and the church-goers at the not infre- quent masses did the same. On June 4, the Section had the signal honor of formally receiving the first Stars and Stripes to fly in France with the official sanction of the United States War Depart- ment, a gift of the Friends of France and the Union League of California, sent over to us by a special envoy, Arthur Kimber,1 a fellow student at Stanford University. Presentation ceremonies of a most impressive character were held on a hilltop outside of Ligny in the presence of two battalions and a regimental French band, and Colonel Colon, in behalf of the armies of France, received the colors and in turn presented them to Section Fourteen. The Champagne — Mourmelon — Prosnes The following day the Unit journeyed to Mourmelon-le- Petit, behind Moronvilliers in Champagne, to the right of Reims, when brief survey of the district — ruined Prosnes, the postes de secours of Constantine and Moscou, two kilometres from smoking Mont Cornillet — sufficed to show us that the long-sought field of action was at hand. A party of six cars, sent to learn the road, and lined up in the open at Constantine in view of German observa- 1 Arthur Clifford Kimber, of Palo Alto, California; Leland Stanford, '18; joined the Field Service in May, 1917, as a member of Section Fourteen; where he remained until September; subsequently a First Lieutenant, U.S. Aviation; killed in action near Sedan, September 26, 1918. 88 SECTION FOURTEEN tion balloons, drew the flattering attention of enemy artillery. In a word, we were at the front this time. The church corner at Prosnes, for example, was a place of evil enough repute to appease the most sensation-craving appetites. Some made a practice of skidding around it; others killed their engines and had to re-crank; while at least one managed it by whistling, or, if under pressure, by singing. The trench side of the Constantine abri was a pit-seat to the spectacle of shells bursting along the hills and in the surrounding fields. All in all there was a great deal of tension in Prosnes, with its terrific noise, the number and character of the wounded, and the condi- tions imposed on road travel. The exposure to danger, as well as the opportunity to witness trench life first-hand, was perhaps the outstand- ing benefit received by the members of the unit from their work at this time. It gave us, too, a keener appreci- ation of the burden carried by the French soldiers, pro- moted respect for the men in the trenches, and altered views regarding the war's obligations. When the Section was nearing the time to retire en repos, and the first term of service was about to be completed, eight members accepted a call to join the second Stanford unit, then leaving for the Balkans to become Section Ten. On the Fourth of July, the Section was presented the Croix de Guerre with Divisional citation, for the manner of its work performed at Verdun and in the Moronvilliers sector. Joseph H. Eastman l 1 Of Pleasanton, Cal.; Stanford, '18; served with Section Fourteen from March to August, 1917; later became a First Lieutenant, U.SA. Air Service. II A Gas and Fire Attack Glorieux, March 25 We were very busy the other night, because of a gas attack near by, and, most terrible of all, a liquid-fire attack. WTe carried the wounded to the town through the dark. My first entrance into the dressing-station was with some of my blesses. On the rack on which they lift the stretchers lay a liquid-fire victim — his face black and charred like a cinder and the upper part of his body scorched and cooked. He hardly murmured. The gas vic- tims can scarcely move; they cough and gasp and choke in great pain. Vadelaincourt, April 16 We are about twenty kilometres from Verdun, where is the most famous aviation camp in France, in fact the aviation base for the entire sector. The Division has received orders to move; so we shall have to move with it. All of our old friends, the brancar- diers, go along, and it seems that they are going to be our comrades for good. They are a mixed crew. Most of them are ordinary poilus with good hearts; but the best of them are well educated Catholic priests who make good chums and are painstaking French instructors. The Division moves on foot; so we run ahead and wait a few days for them to catch up and go on again. This is tiresome travelling, and as transients we get thrown into almost any kind of quarters. At one town we were in a long, black, barren, portable house, built entirely without nails, which we shared half and half with a corps of French wireless men. The floor was of earth, stones, and straw. Last night, when all was quiet, a rat scout made a survey of the room and then piped up the regiment. Hundreds swarmed and swept, marched and counter-marched, 90 SECTION FOURTEEN squeaking and fighting, all over the place for the whole night. Anticipating as much, I had put shoes, bags, and everything out of reach on a wire, and so felt compara- tively safe. I am going to bed now. I never take off more than my shoes and coat. Mourmelon-le-Petit, June u Yesterday's ride of some one hundred kilometres was very beautiful. A thunderstorm blew over early in the morning, freshening the air and the colors of the fields, and pleasing us by laying the dust. We ran through a farming country where the regular patches of blooming alfalfa were a glowing pink, setting off the russet of newly ploughed ground and the silvery green of the grain. And such wild flowers! It is time for California to shut up and hand the china teapot to France. The principal flower is the scarlet poppy, with four broad petals of crinkly thinness, forming a very wide cup. Never was there flower more beautiful, and it abounds everywhere. Then there are lupins, buttercups, larkspurs, yellow flags, purple flags, lilies-of-the-valley, and a million others. The trees are all Cottonwood and willow except the artificial pine forests. These forests, by the way, are of the greatest military importance, for they screen everything. A Death Call July, 1917 It got dark about ten o'clock. About eleven an officer drove up on his horse behind my car and told me that he had a blesse whom his convoy had picked up on the road between our reserve poste and the poste de secours. He confided to me that the road was being steadily shelled between the two postes and that this man and his comrade had been hit by a shell. His comrade was blown in two. So I piled out with my stretcher and gave it to the artil- leryman, who put the wounded soldier on it and set him down behind the ambulance. One said he was dead, 9i THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE but there was a difference of opinion on this point. I lit my briquet and in the flickering light we gathered around the stretcher, watching the man shudder and die without a sound. "II est mort," the officer said, "allons." And with that they went, leaving me, alone with a shell- torn man, dead but still warm, to gaze at the bloody mass, in the red, flickering light. His right arm was blown off at the elbow, the rest hanging in shreds. His head was riddled with splinters, and there was a hole an inch square in his cheek. Around his body were countless holes and his shirt was bloody and red. I woke up one of the fellows, and we loaded him into the ambulance and carried him to the hospital. It was not exactly the thing to do, but I was n't going to leave him on a stretcher all night by the roadside; so I took him to the hospital and let the authori- ties there dispose of the body. As soon as I got back to the poste de reserve, the first car came back; covered with earth and full of holes. Randau left it in front of the poste — there is no shelter for cars — when a shell fell ten feet away. He was in an abri, but was n't a lot safer, for a "77" fell'ten feet away from where he was resting and threw earth in the door. He also reported bombardment of the little town halfway to the poste. Anyway, it was up to me to see if there were not something to be done in that place, so I cranked up and buzzed down the road, somewhat shaky from seeing the evidence of the deadly bombardment before me. "Toad" Strong was with me. We are now running two to a car for moral support. As we stopped at a rise, we looked at the little town below and across the plain to the poste. The hills were illuminated by star-shells over the trenches and by artillery rockets, while across the plain came the sharp, wicked snaps of shrapnel in the air around the poste, and in the town the heavy flash of high-explosives. "Qu'yFaire?" The psychology of judgment at such a moment is inter- esting. There is an object to be attained — reaching the 92 SECTION FOURTEEN poste. There is shelling of a town below, a shell arriving every fifteen seconds with an interval of a minute now and then. There is shrapnel around the object. The judg- ment to be reached is the most advantageous manner of reaching the poste without being hit. One does n't know whether to take it slowly and wait for an interval to be apparent or to tear through and trust to luck. On the return trip from the poste, the question is more compli- cated. If you go slowly, you are liable to be clipped from behind by shrapnel; and if you hurry, you are liable to reach the town at the same time that a shell does. Anyhow, we went at a rush and got through the town without mishap, although a shell hit behind us just off the road. Then we faced the shrapnel. We waited this out, and halfway between, at a suitable moment, we tore up to the poste, backed up in a second, and beat it for the shelter. Immediately after, two shells fell twenty yards away, but without hitting the car. Rolled up then in a blanket to sleep; but half an hour later an urgent case arrived. He had his nose, half his cheeks, his upper lip and teeth, and half his chin shot away. I expect he died. While bringing him in, two "150's" exploded thirty yards to our left in the town, throwing earth and rocks and the smell of powder across the road. We were glad to get out alive. This was at 3 a.m. Such was the night. I did not really feel the effects of it all until after I came off, when I had a nervous depres- sion corresponding to the excitement of the night before. The Lieutenant told us we looked ten years older, and I guess we did, for I felt so. Words cannot really express the nervous excitement of a night like that, mixed up with death and duty and the agony of life. William J. Losh1 1 Of San Francisco; served with Section Fourteen until June, 1917, when he joined Section Ten in the Orient; the above are extracts from letters. Ill The Suffering and Bravery of the Poilu September, 1917 It seems as though every time I go on duty new experi- ences increase my hatred of the hell of war. I cannot tell you all of them, the censor would object; but I do wish there was some way of telling you just how stoical to suffering the French poilu is. This is an impression that grows on me, with every wounded man that I carry. One has to become accustomed to so many heart-tearing scenes. The sight of blood-soaked bandages is frequent; but to see a young fellow with blood matted between a week's growth of whiskers and perhaps partly covered with mud; to see a pair of sky-blue eyes peering out from the paleness of intense suffering, and perhaps to hear him talk of home in his delirium, are things one can never become accustomed to. Strange as it may seem, I have never seen a wounded Frenchman who was unconscious no matter what the pain. I had one soldier whose leg had been broken below the knee by a piece of shell, and in some way his foot had got turned partly around. How the poor boy kept from groaning, I never knew. But what was more, he partly sat up in his stretcher and asked one of the carriers to turn the foot slowly back again. Cau- tiously and gently his comrade worked, until the suffer- ing poilu said, "There," as he lay back on the pillowless stretcher. Your imagination can never paint the picture; you must see and experience the bravery of wounded France to realize her spirit. Boys of eighteen, men of forty, all give their lives and suffer for ideals that mean more to them than life. And then comes our part — to get the wounded poilu quickly to the hospital and to the skil- ful surgeon, for time means life. And yet one must drive carefully, for every jar means agony. 94 rsxoi AMBULANCE PANEL OF THE FIRST LELAND STAN- FORD SECTION, SIIOWIXC THE EMBLEM OF THE "FRIENDS OF FRANCE" SOCIETY OF CALIFORNIA SECTION FOURTEEN Comrades in Song A recent experience when we went back of the lines for a rest may interest. Every one was scolding, crabbing, condemning the management for having picked out such a place for our sojourn, when a huge rat ran across the floor, which did not tend to lessen our discontent. The blame thing was as big as a rabbit. I suppose he ran so fast because of dissatisfaction at our having disturbed him in his retreat. Finally, out of the storm came a voice at the door announcing supper. So twenty-two grumbling tired men scuffled down the stairs, out past the front yard with its odors, to the cafe, which the manager loaned to us until we could get better settled. Now comes the psychological part of the whole thing. We filled over half of the big room, while Frenchmen, the stretcher-bearers, and hospital attendants, with whom we had been working the past months and whom we had learned to know through the suffering of others, occupied half of the small room. Suddenly one of our men began to sing — I think it was " I Wonder Who 's Kissing Her Now?" — and, like a stimulant to a heart about to flut- ter out, the singing began to blot out blues and grumbles and growls. I '11 never forget, in all my life, what hap- pened. Dinner was over by this time, and we sang a few more songs. Then the old Frenchmen began. You cannot understand the spirit until you see how a typical, edu- cated Frenchman of university type, as most of these are — how these men with their families awaiting their re- turn, all entered into the spirit of the music with an enthu- siasm such as I have never seen. They sang with their eyes, with their hearts, with their bodies; there was no restraint, no bashfulness. Even if some could not keep time or pitch, it made no difference. Then one of our men recited, sang a few songs with the sweetness of a McCor- mack, and one of their men responded, while we joined in on the chorus. "When Good Fellows Get Together " was the most a propos song we sang. We cheered them, they 95 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE cheered us. It made absolutely no difference that we could not understand the words to their songs; nor could they make out what we were singing. The spirit was there and we felt it. Finally we ended with the "Star-Spangled Banner," and they with the "Marseillaise." And then we came back to a parlor, which before had seemed a rotten old garret because of our attitude of mind. Even the rat was forgotten. "Pere Noel" at the Front Christmas, 1917 One of the men said to me just before Christmas that he thought it sounded like sarcasm for folks to wish us a "Merry Christmas." He was basing his remark on our surroundings at that time. The barracks were cold with their damp ground floors. It was so cold, in fact, that I found ice caked in my Ford commutator, and even my fountain-pen ink became solid, though it was in my trunk. Occasionally I wore my overcoat to bed, slept under seven blankets, and for two weeks never took off my clothes. However, my friend was wrong. We had a lively time. As Christmas Day approached, every one got busy. Some went for a tree, others helped the French cook pre- pare the big meal, while still others were writing little somethings and wrapping mysterious packages that bulged peculiarly. When the men returned with the tree in an ambulance and a load of holly from the woods, we all began decorating the cafe, our dining-room at that time, where the insides of tin boxes made good reflectors for the candles. An empty barrack near by served as a distributing- room for old Santa Claus, who was one of the men with his face covered with cotton for a beard and who height- ened the effect by sprinkling snow over his jolly self. The children of the village were there long before "Pere Noel" arrived. One little fellow proudly showed me a sou some one had given him, his only gift, "because his father was away fighting for the future along with thou- 96 SECTION FOURTEEN sands of others." Each man of the Section had three toys for distribution among the little ones, and limericks for himself. The reckless drivers received toy ambulances. One who had been "over the top" on a visit had a toy Croix de Guerre; while the old Major was given a toy sword; and so on for sixty limericks and toys. We then opened a box of candies sent to the Section, and then those bright-eyed, happy children of France politely took their chocolates and American gum, which at first they did not know what to do with, with a gracious " Merci." But the toys they knew well what to do with, for they had seen days when such joys existed. Then came the turkey dinner, backed by salad, cakes, nuts, fruits, chestnut dressing, mashed potatoes, and candy. Oh, how surely such things did make us forget the discomforts of war! while college songs, yells, and toasts helped make the air glow with the brilliancy of the holly berries. Even Le Beck, the cook, was made to come in to receive our cheers and thanks and be toasted. Soon after the dinner came the show, for we had one, and a good one, as the French army utilized men, who before the war were actors, for vaudeville performances to cheer up the poilus en repos. It is found here at the front as necessary to care for the amusement of the men as it is to provide good food for them. Accordingly, a group of actors of our Division form a sort of stock com- pany with several pieces in their repertoire. They have an auto which furnishes electricity, and costumes are given them. It so happened that these actors were quartered in a near-by village and were glad to take part in our vaude- ville. We even had their machine for making electricity. Every man in the Section had some part to perform, while the folk of our village, three hundred in number, were the audience. We had tumbling stunts, comedy boxing matches, several skits, minstrel scenes, etc. We had rented a piano from some one in a neighboring city. Burnt corks served to blacken the "coons," who had two German grenades hanging on their belts. One of us actually did 97 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE a Salome dance dressed in a grass costume made from bits of camouflage while mosquito netting draped "her" extremities. For seats we dragged in benches and covered them with blankets which we use for wounded soldiers. Our ten acts and the Frenchmen's two comedies lasted until 12.30 a.m. the next morning. But not a single person left the "auditorium," although they could not understand much of our English. Thus my friend was wrong about it not being possible to have a Merry Christmas out here, for we had a good time ourselves as well as making it a merry day for others. Franklin B. Skeele1 1 Of Los Angeles, Cal.; Stanford, '18; served in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. The pages given above are extracts from home letters. *WW. A„ JJ. IV Summary of the Section's History under the United States Army On September 19, 1917, the Section was officially taken over by the A.E.F. and given the number 632. We were cantoned in Villers-Marmery at the time, serving in the Champagne dis- trict in the sector of the Marquises Farm. Our postes were Wez, Prosnes, Maisonnette, La Cloche, and Cuisine. From November 29 to January 1, 1918, came our first repos, near Chalons-sur-Marne. Chepy, Marson, and Jalons were vil- lages in which we lived. During this repos the Section was cited by the Division. We were then assigned to the same front in the Champagne, but in the adjoining sector of the Mounts. Constancelager, Petite Haie, Bouleaux, Haie Claire, Prosnes, and Constantine Farm, were the postes, and our base first La Plaine, then the village of Sept-Saulx. Allan H. Muhr was our first Lieutenant, Jefferson B. Fletcher, of Columbia University, taking his place in Novem- ber. About March, 1918, another Lieutenant, Elliott H. Lee, from Princeton, took charge and was with us until le fin de la guerre. Emile Baudouy was our French officer from the time of the Section's formation, March I, 1917, until September, 1918. We remained in the sector of the Mounts until June 30, 1918, when we headed toward the Marne with our Division, the Eighth. Before the battle on the 15th we were quartered in Pierry, Vinay, and then Le Breuil. Our postes during the battle were Tincourt, (Euilly, Festigny, Saint-Martin, Chatillon, Vandieres, Dormans, Damery, and Port-a-Binson. After four days of heavy fighting, when we lost about eighty- two per cent of our Division, we retired to Courcelles. The ranks were soon refilled and August found us again on our way to the Champagne, in the sector of the Mounts again, serving postes at Prosnes, Sapiniere, Baconnes, Farman, Constantine Farm, Bouleaux, and La Plaine. Mourmelon was the village of our cantonment. Then came the big advance, September 26, 1918, when we moved forward some no kilometres, from Mourmelon to Charleville-Mezieres. Our line of advance, covering six weeks, took us through Naurouy, Aussonce, Neuflize, Tagnon, Rethel, to Charleville, which town was the Headquarters of the Ger- 99 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE man General Armies and where the former Kaiser and Crown Prince lived for four years. Our postes from here were Mezieres, Saint-Laurent, Ville-sur-Lumes, Lumes, Prix, Nouzon, and Romery. The Section remained in Charleville from the day of its re- capture on November 10 to March 7, 1919. Then we headed for home via Paris and Base Camp. Section Fifteen THE STORY TOLD BY I. Clitus Jones II. Keith Vosburg III & IV. Jerome Preston SUMMARY Section Fifteen left Paris about April 10, 1917, arriving a little later at Dombasle, near Verdun. It had postes opposite Mcrt Homme and Cote 304, and there it remained until the end of June, when it retired en repos to Wassy far back of the lines. In late July the Section returned to the Verdun sector, working again in the region of Mort Homme, which the French success- fully attacked on August 20. Its next move was early in Oc- tober to the Champagne, where it worked in the region of the Mounts. It was there that the Section was made a part of the American Army as Section Six-Thirty-Three. Section Fifteen Spirit of France, immortal, hail to thee! Symbol of hope throughout these darkened years When tyranny and might, on land and sea, Bring pain and tears. William C. Sanger, Jr. I The Front — A Most Auspicious Time Section Fifteen left Paris for the front at a most aus- picious time — it was the first section to go out after the entrance of America into the war, and we were hailed as soldiers and allies. Just as winter was breaking, the Section arrived at Dombasle-en-Argonne, and found quarters in that little shell-smashed village, ten miles west of Verdun and just behind Mort Homme and Hill 304, both world-famed for the battles that raged over their possession. Section One of the Field Service was on the ground when we arrived, and we took over its postes de secours. We were attached to the 32d Division of the French Army, with which we remained during the whole of our history as a unit of the Field Service; and, except for five weeks en repos, we always operated in and around Dombasle. 103 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Although the Verdun sector wras a comparatively quiet front during the spring of 1917, the work was interesting and somewhat dangerous, the advanced poste being at Esnes. This little run from Montzeville to Esnes is well known to every American section that ever worked in the Verdun sector. Nearly the entire road was in view of the German trenches at the foot of Mort Homme. Many sections won their spurs on this road. On it James Liddell, driving ambulance 530, was shelled forty-eight hours after leaving Paris. On his first run to Esnes a shell burst thirty feet away, while fragments from the ex- plosion tore through the car, and an eclat cut the back of his coat. The spot where Liddell nearly met his fate was the scene of many more escapes during the eleven weeks that the Section operated there. It was christened "Hell Corner," and the name has gone down in am- bulance history. As a provider of thrills, "Hell Corner" has had no peer. Repos — Jubecourt — Preparation for Attack Before the Section left Dombasle, it lost its first and highly popular Chef, Henderson, who was sent to the School at Meaux. His time with Section Fifteen was brief, but he put into it much energy. On June 28, the Section went en repos at Wassy, in the Department of the Haute-Marne, where we celebrated the Fourth of July, and the French inhabitants made a special effort to do honor to their new ally. The Section acquitted itself well, after doing justice to a champagne dinner, by winning a game of association football and capturing most of the prizes offered at a field meet. But the most important event of the stay at Wassy was the coming of Lieutenant Fabre, who was to be in charge of the Section, as it proved, as long as we remained mem- bers of the Field Service. He became the main factor in the success of the Section because of his energy and cheeriness. He knew how to awaken activity when we 104 SECTION FIFTEEN were tired of repos, and to cheer us when we were worn out with work. Where there were dangers to be encoun- tered, our French Lieutenant was the first man on the scene. August 2 saw the Section once more on the road back to the front. After a series of stops at various towns, it finally arrived, on August 10, at Jubecourt, where evacu- ation work started. This was the same sector that we had worked in before; but it was no longer possible to live so close to the lines as Dombasle, for since our departure the Boches had advanced long-range guns, and villages as far as twenty kilometres back were in danger. So our old cantonment at Dombasle was deserted. Section Two had moved out of it under a bombardment and no sec- tion occupied it afterwards. OSBORN AND RICH WOUNDED At Jubecourt we could see the preparations for the great attack before Hill 304 and Mort Homme. Troops and supplies moved up nightly. The far-famed Foreign Legion was called upon, together with several other magnificent divisions of France's best Colonial troops, to aid in the effort. The sky was alive with aeroplanes, and the rumble of cannon along the front was almost a continuous roar. Our Division was expected to figure in the attack, and we all knew what that would mean for us. So Osborn our Chef, Lieutenant Fabre, Dominic Rich and Van Al- styne, went out to investigate the prospective poste de secours at La Claire. The trip resulted disastrously. At La Claire a bombardment was in progress, and before the men could make their way to cover, a shell exploded near them. Osborn and Rich were wounded and Lieutenant Fabre and Van Alstyne knocked down by the concussion, but not wounded. Rich, with his right arm splintered, and Osborn, with both legs struck, were hurt rather seri- ously. Eventually the latter had to return to America. Robert Paradise succeeded him as Chef, with Van Al- styne as Sous-Chef. 105 THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE Rampont — Aiding in the Attack On August 18 the Section moved to Rampont, in order to be nearer the lines when the attack should take place. At about this time, we learned, however, that our Divi- sion would not participate and that we should doubtless be doing evacuation work for some weeks. There was, of course, a feeling of disappointment in the Section, until the Lieutenant asked and received permission to assist an English ambulance section during the coming battle. The morning of the attack on Mort Homme, ten ambu- lances were called out, and headed for Hill 232, where we were to receive the wounded. Curtis and Dunn, driving car 513, were the first to reach the poste and brought down the first load. The Lieutenant followed close behind them in another ambulance, then others arrived in rapid suc- cession. From then until two o'clock it was "hurry down and get back." The Lieutenant helped load each car as it came up and slammed the door shut as it started down the long stretch to the evacuation hospital eight miles distant. Every car was running its best, and we entered into good-natured rivalry with the English section to see which could carry the most wounded. By two o'clock all the wounded at the dressing-station had been taken down, though a few were coming in all the time. The Section remained on duty until five o'clock when the day's work appeared to be finished. Few of the men who were present at that attack will ever forget it. The dust and smoke that covered the coun- try in a murky haze, the ride like mad to the poste near Mort Homme, with the guns blazing away on all sides, the hundreds of German prisoners tramping back, and the long rows of wounded at the poste, formed a picture so vivid as to be unforgettable. It was a glorious victory for the French, for where Dead Man's Hill and Hill 304 reared their shattered summits, the poilus had charged to a depth of four kilometres along the whole sector and had captured more than seven thousand prisoners. 106 THE MOUMNG AFTER" A COLLISIOX ON THE ROAD ' i^ja'* ~.f~ '\7 '