Epilogue: Another Telling
We were what Army life terms "sacrifice troops? But among ourselves we spoke of "suicide troops." Our duties were to approach the enemy troops and feel them out and learn all we could about their strength and location. Of course, we were expected to give battle and check them all we could. Whenever we were discovered by the enemy we were always welcomed with a storm of rifle, machine gun, and barrage from the big guns, and let me say that daggers, ropes, rivers, high bridges and arsnic, belong in the abc class of suicide articles by comparison.
From September 11th to September 22 we were holding the front lines close up to the enemy and were continually under rifle, machine gun, and shell fire. We were then well drawn into the Crown Prince Tunnel and were prepared with our equipment to go over the top between Hill 304 and Dead Man's Hill where French and Germans had been slaughtering each other for over two years, with Death Valley now constituting No Mans Land. This valley was supposed to be impassable by both French and Germans, we crossed it in 6 hours in quicksand and mud and without a moment's rest went into the battle of the Forgees Wood and reached our objective.
We held our lines here continually under shell fire until the morning of Oct. 8th. Then came the terrible battle the Argonne. Over the top again on the morning of the 8th our battalion succeeded in fighting its way thru and beyond the 29th on our right and an unknown division on our left by about 7 kilos and lost communication altogether. We then found a line and the order passed to hold to the last man. I was ordered to an outpost when I discovered that we were being flanked by a large body of German troops. I retired to the line, made the report and was ordered back to my post.
I crawled back to my post for this time it meant sure death to run or walk back. I reached my post, a small hole that the Germans had been using I suppose for their own outpost just as the Germans laid down their barrage. And some barrage it was. I will always regret that I could not hold my senses sufficient to have seen and remembered all that took place around me. The earth was shaking, clouds of dirt, smoke, and fire was raising up all around me, the hissing, bursting of shells made a noise that I won't try to describe and there is no other noise that I could compose that would explain it.
I guess I held out as well as the average man under the same circumstances. And my best judgement which of course was not very accurate at the moment, is, that I lasted only a few seconds. I do not know how long the barrage lasted. When I came to, the barrage had stopped. I was looking up in the sky at a sight that I will never forget. Right over the German lines in front of me the air was filled with airplanes, wheeling, darting, dipping in all directions, some shooting toward the earth leaving a [...] smoke.
I only [...] a few seconds [...] something else to look at. Distressed as I was my spirits rallied, for in those few seconds that I watched them I could tell that the planes being put out of action were mostly German for most of them that was leaving was going towards the German lines and I realized that the American planes were winning.
I peeped over my little 2x3 trench and saw the German infantry coming toward me. I judged between four and five hundred yds away. I dropped down, examined my sights, raised up again. The whole line had stopped. They had seen me and no doubt expected to see Americans come over the top to meet them. Here I made a mistake for I opened on them with my army rifle. The whole line dropped to the ground as if they were all one machine. My single firing gave me away and they knew it was only an outpost.
Again like machinery they raised and came on. I raised with them that time and started back to the line. Shook up, bad as I was I made a run that would have called attention in a track team.
I reached our line only to find it vacant. The orders were fulfilled, the line was held to the last man--I was the last.
The Germans saw me and opened up--one bullet struck me in the left shoulder, one on the third finger of the right hand knocking me down. I did not know how bad I was hit, but made up my mind in a few seconds. I tore my pack off and started crawling over the hill in an old furrow. I had only crawled about 20 feet when they discovered that I was moving, and once over the hill I would escape. They then opened up on me in earnest--a hail of bullets cut dirt and grass from my face, chest, and entire body. The fact that I was not riddled with bullets was not due to poor marksmanship. I crept on--at last over the hill that shielded me. I raised to my feet, rallied by hope, started as best I could down the hill.
I had got away from them, and had only gone a short distance when my legging became unwrapped, which prevented my running. I stopped, took it off, and had gone but a short distance when the other legging come loose and I was compelled to stop again. I started across a little valley--it was covered with German machine guns. The instant I started they cut loose on me. Again a merciful God spared me, for the very trees on either side of the narrow wood road that I had reached were mowed down. This was kept up while I traveled some 35 or 40 yards when they ceased firing. I later found out that I had got in range where they would have been firing towards their own troops.
As I rounded a bend in the road I came upon 18 American machine gunners, the remainder of the three machine gun squads. They saw me coming down the hill and held their fire, as I was directly in their range.
John Tuttler of Decatur, Ill, seeing the blood on my clothes asked if I was badly wounded. I told him no so we all started back out of the woods, and ran into a body of German soldiers who had followed us.
With guns and bayonets leveled on us they demanded that we raise our hands. The rest raised their hands. I could only raise one, and they came near finishing me then and there, before they discovered that I could not raise my other one.
One of our boys who understood the German language probably saved my life, for the Germans thought I was trying to pull the old grenade trick. They then asked if we were English, and on finding we were Americans dropped their guns to their sides and seemed to be very much tickled over their capture, and told one of my comrades to apply first aid treatment to my wound.
The German officers took a great fancy to our rain coats, and would hand us a piece of black war bread and take overcoats in payment and there was no haggling over bargains, either. This part of the business transacted they marched us back to a German Battalion headquarters where the officers looked us over and questioned us.
They then sent us to Regimental headquarters and went through about the same as at Battalion quarters, and from there to Divisional headquarters and after our interview there we were taken out on the street and told to go to bed for the night, so we all laid down on the brick sidewalk. It was freezing cold and one of the boys asked them if they would put me in the shelter as I was wounded and about all in, so they allowed me a place in the building on the floor.
I slept there several hours when a German came, woke me up, and took me to a barn. On going in, I was surprised to find the rest of the prisoners already there. We all huddled in one corner pretty much like hogs in cold weather and by this method kept warm enough to sleep.
By this time we were getting pretty hungry for none of us had eaten anything but a little hard tack, one box of corn beef split for two of us, from the morning of the 8th until noon on the 10. We were then handed a bowl of soup made of cow beets, and outside cabbage leaves. For supper we got a bowl of tea made of barley and slice of black bread, for breakfast we got the same. The bread consisted of whole barley flour, potato peelings and sawdust. A chunk of corn bread from the states would have created a riot in that place.
We wounded were taken to the hospital to have our wounds dressed, the bandages being on so long had grown to our wounds. The German doctors jerked the bandages from our wounds bringing flesh and all. They would look at our faces and grin. I never saw one of our boys show a single sign of pain. They would stand attention and look straight ahead. I was treated about 21 days by the German doctors. All this time my wound continued to get worse.
Two weeks of this 21 days we spent at Mont-Meady fortress. American prisoners here numbered 504. From this prison they marched us to a train, gave us half a loaf of bread and started us for the interior of Germany. We wound up at Rastatt.
The American prisoners already there greeted us at a distance and shouted the glad tidings to us that the Red Cross was there with food. They threw cigarets and hard tack over the prison fence to us as soon as we were close, none of which was lost or wasted by us, especially the cigarets. We were placed in our Barracks, given a blanket by the Germans, and given a mattress made of wood shavings; not bad had they kept the fleas out of them, but this I guess they could not do for they were in every German camp that I was in. Our clothes were steamed and we were given a good bath.
The American boys supplied us with something to eat and were soon in bed feeling like new soldiers. In the following days we were issued food and tobacco and all sorts of clothing, including long overcoats that came in handy both as coat and cover at night. This of course came from our noble, never-to-be-forgotten Red Cross.
Here luck favored me again. Some of our medical boys were among those taken prisoners. They treated my wound, and in less than a week had it under control. The American medical department received high praise in all parts of the army that I was in.
From the time we arrived at Rastatt until we were released on the 7th of December, we saw very few German soldiers. The German guards treated us very kind, took the boys uptown, let them ramble around in squads came back when they pleased. And sometimes the guard would come in feeling like he wouldn't mind staying on the job, for I think the American boys used to show them how good a fellow the American soldier was. As for my own part I did not get out any for my wound would not permit me to do so.
On the morning of the 7th of December about 10 o'clock a great train of U.S. coaches flying the Stars and Stripes pulled up at our prison door, and with light hearts we were soon on board speeding for France via Switzerland.
The Swiss people met us with cheers, tears, and candy. We were a quiet bunch until we crossed the Swiss border--then I thought the cheering would never cease. We were in a Republic--away from the Vaterland, the fleas and cuties, and homeward bound.
No doubt all were not as fortunate as myself in escaping brutal treatment at the hands of the Germans.
DAN DERMODY