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AMERICANS AT CHATEAU THIERRY

Personal Accounts of Battle—Gas and Shell Shock—Marines Under Fire—Americans Can Fight and Yell—Getting to the Front Under Difficulties—The Big Day Dawns—The Shells Come Fast—A Funeral at the Front—Impression of a French Lieutenant—Keeping the Germans on the Run.

The name of Chateau Thierry will be long remembered in the United States, for it was there the American fighting quality was for the first time clearly impressed upon the Germans, to their immense astonishment, and with far-reaching effect. The German people and the German army had been told that the United States had no army, navy, or fighting quality; that the talk of an American army in Europe was "Yankee bluff," and nothing more; that even if we could raise an army we could not send it across the ocean, first because we had no ships, second because if we had ships the submarines of Germany would surely sink them. Yet here at Chateau Thierry they were confronted by United States troops and soundly beaten.

That effect upon the Germans was in itself of tremendous significance; but the historic effect was greater, and will grow in importance with the passage of time, for it is a fact, unperceived by onlooking nations at the moment, that it was the turning point of the war; and that the turning was accomplished by troops of a nation that hated war and was supposed to be incapable of military development; and that these troops had met and whipped the choicest troops of a power that above all things was military, that had assumed proprietary rights in the art of war, and believed itself invincible.

Late in February, 1918, General Ludendorff had told a Berlin newspaper correspondent that on the first of April he would be in Paris. It was inconceivable to the Germans that with the thorough preparation of a mighty army for an offensive that by sheer weight of numbers should drive through an opposition twenty times as strong as that which then confronted them, they could not with ease push in between the French and British forces, thrust straight through to Paris (as a spectacular performance rather than a vital military operation), and then walk over to the channel ports of France and bring both France and England to a plea for mercy.

From the 21st of March until along in May, 1918, it looked as though they might succeed. That is, to anyone unaware of the strategy of Marshal Foch, who sold terrain by the foot for awful prices in German lives, and held an unbroken front until such time as American forces could be brought into action, instead of wearing out his reserves and weakening his power for an offensive.

Unity of command had been accomplished by that time at the urgent demand of the United States Government. Foch had saved France and the world at the first battle of the Marne. Being given supreme authority over all the allied forces, as soon as the arrival of American troops in great numbers had been thoroughly established, he was ready; and the offensive passed from German to allied hands.

The tremendous German drive, which Ludendorff had confidently promised the German people would bring a smashing and decisive victory, was stopped. Retrocession began. On the Marne again, in July, 1918, in the sector held by Americans an action began at Chateau Thierry which forced the German retreat that in a few weeks was to shake the heart of Germany, scare out Bulgaria, Austria and Turkey, in the early autumn bring Germany to a plea for peace, send Ludendorff himself into retirement, dethrone the Kaiser, do away with the imperial form of government, set up a republic, and create conditions that would quash for all time the power of Prussia to disturb a decent world.

Floyd Gibbons, correspondent of the Chicago Tribune, a noncombatant who wanted to see the combat he was there to report, was in that memorable action. He lost his left eye there, and was otherwise severely shattered, but he got his story through. His home paper some months afterward gave Gibbons well earned credit for that contribution to current history. It said he "helped to put the Marines where they belong in the war's history, for he was with them in their early exploits and fell in one of their battles. Six thousand out of 8,000 engaged was their toll. They fought with the French through Belleau Wood, heartening the brave, tired, discouraged poilus, and after they came out upon the other side the name of the battlefield was changed to the 'Wood of the American Marines.' Mr. Gibbons says that when Marshal Foch began his great offensive, which in cosmic importance is second only to creation, he selected the units in which he had the most faith. These units were chosen not because they were braver nor more sacrificial, but because they knew. They were the Foreign Legion of France, two divisions of American Regulars, and the United States Marines."

From that day there was no change in the favorable fortunes of war on the western front.

AMERICANS CAN FIGHT AND YELL

An eyewitness of the first days of the Chateau Thierry battle thus describes the capture of the Beauleau wood:

"The Americans moved stealthily with fixed bayonet until they got into the edge of the woods and atop of the German machine gun-tiers. Then the farm boys cheered, and the lumberjacks shouted, and the Indians yelled. They were where they could mix it at close range with the Boche, and that was what they wanted.

"Their yells could be heard a mile away. They were up against two of the Kaiser's redoubtable divisions, the Two Hundredth Jaegers and the Two Hundred and Sixteenth reserve division. They fought with vim and joy.

"They had lost comrades at the hands of the Germans and now were to avenge them. No quarter was asked or expected. The Germans had orders to fight to the death and the Americans needed no such order.

"Without much artillery on either side and without gas, the Americans fought the Germans through that woods, four kilometers (nearly three miles) long, for six hours. At last we got through and took up a position across the northern end of the woods.

"Perhaps the most sensational part of the fight was when about Germans got around behind our men. They were chased into a clearing, where the Americans went at them from all sides with the bayonet, and I am told that three prisoners were all that were left of the Germans."

"How did you do it?" inquired a dazed Prussian officer, taken prisoner at Chateau Thierry by an American soldier. "We are storm troops."

"Storm hell!" said the American. "I come from Kansas, where we have cyclones."

That was and is the idea. This spirit enabled American soldiers to go wherever they wanted to go. A European officer on observation duty with the United States force at Chateau Thierry wanted to know how our soldiers got through as they did.

"They seem to have been trained somewhere," he said, "for they fight all right. But that doesn't explain to me the way they keep going."

The American officer with whom he was talking gave this explanation:

"They were thoroughly trained in our camps at home in all but one thing. They were not trained to stop going."

It was a splendid exhibition, the first of many of its kind.

A PERSONAL ACCOUNT

The following is one of hundreds of thrilling experience stories that could be told by officers and men who fought at that front.

Details of the participation of the United States Marines in the counter-attack of the allies against German forces on the Marne, July 18, are given in a letter written shortly afterward by Major Robert L. Denig, of the United States Marines, to his wife, in Philadelphia, and which had been forwarded to Washington for the historical files of the Marine Corps.

It is the best and truest form of war history, and important in that it gives details of action during those July days when American troops stopped the German drive.

It also establishes the fact that the Marines who helped stop the German drive on Paris at Belleau wood early in June were honored by being brought from this wood to Vierzy and Tigny, near Soissons, for participation with a crack French division in the great counter-attack which started the disintegration of the German front in the west.

Names that became familiar through the fighting in Belleau wood are mentioned in Major Denig's letter as being prominent in the allied counter-attack—Lieut. Col. Thomas Holcomb, Lieut. Col. Benton W. Sibley, Lieut. Col. John A. Hughes, Capt. Pere Wilmer and others who took a prominent part in the fighting. The letter in substance follows:

"We took our positions at various places to wait for camions that were to take us somewhere in France, when or for what purpose we did not know. Our turn to enbus came near midnight.

GETTING TO THE FRONT UNDER DIFFICULTIES

"We at last got under way after a few big 'sea bags' had hit near by. We went at a good clip and nearly got ditched in a couple of new shell holes. Shells were falling fast by now and as the tenth truck went under the bridge a big one landed near with a crash and wounded the two drivers, killed two Marines and wounded five more.

"We did not know it at the time and did not notice anything wrong till we came to a crossroad, when we found we had only eleven cars all told. We found the rest of the convoy after a hunt, but even then were not told of the loss, and did not find it out till the next day.

"After twelve hours' ride we were dumped in a big field, and after a few hours' rest started our march. It was hot as hades and we had had nothing to eat since the day before. We at last entered a forest; troops seemed to converge on it from all points. We marched some six miles in the forest. A finer one I have never seen—deer would scamper ahead and we could have eaten one raw.

"At 10 that night, without food, we lay down in a pouring rain to sleep. Troops of all kinds passed us in the night—a shadowy stream, more than a half-million men. Some French officers told us that they had never seen such concentration since Verdun, if then.

THE BIG DAY DAWNS

"The next day, July 18, we marched ahead through a jam of troops, trucks, etc., and came at last to a ration dump, where we fell to and ate our heads off for the first time in nearly two days. When we left there the men had bread stuck on their bayonets. I lugged a ham. All were loaded down.

"We finally stopped at the far end of the forest, nearing a dressing station. This station had been a big, fine stone farmhouse, but was now a complete ruin—wounded and dead lay all about. Joe Murray came by with his head all done up—his helmet had saved him. The lines had gone on ahead, so we were quite safe.

"Late in the afternoon we advanced again. Our route lay over an open field covered with dead.

"We lay down on a hillside for the night near some captured German guns, and until dark I watched the cavalry, some 4,000, come up and take positions.

"At 3:30 the next morning the regiment was soon under way to attack. We picked our way under cover of a gas infected valley to a town where we got our final instructions and left our packs.

GAS AND SHELL SHOCK

"We formed up in a sunken road on two sides of a valley that was perpendicular to the enemy's front. We now began to get a few wounded; one man with ashen face came charging to the rear with shell shock. He shook all over, foamed at the mouth, could not speak. I put him under a tent and he acted as if he had a fit.

MARINES ADVANCE UNDER FIRE

"At 8:30 we jumped off with a line of tanks in the lead. For two 'kilos' the four lines of Marines were as straight as a die, and their advance over the open plain in the bright sunlight was a picture I shall never forget. The fire got hotter and hotter, men fell, bullets sung, shells whizzed-banged and the dust of battle got thick.

"Lieut. Overton was hit by a big piece of shell and fell. Afterwards I heard he was hit in the heart. He was buried that night and the pin found, which he had asked to have sent to his wife.

"A man near me was cut in two. Others when hit would stand, it seemed, an hour, then fall in a heap. I yelled to Wilmer that each gun in the barrage worked from right to left, then a rabbit ran ahead and I watched him, wondering if he would get hit. Good rabbit—it took my mind off the carnage.

"About sixty Germans jumped up out of a trench and tried to surrender, but their machine guns opened up, we fired back, they ran and our left company after them. That made a gap that had to be filled, so Sibley advanced one of his to do the job, then a shell lit in a machine gun crew of ours and cleaned it out completely.

DIGGING IN

"At 10:30 we dug in—the attack just died out, I found a hole or old trench and when I was flat on my back I got some protection Holcomb was next me; Wilmer some way off. We then tried to get reports. Two companies we never could get in touch with. Lloyd came in and reported he was holding some trenches near a mill with six men.

"Gates, with his trousers blown off, said he had sixteen men of various companies; another officer on the right reported he had and could see some forty men, all told. That, with the headquarters, was all we could find out about the battalion of nearly 800. Of the twenty company officers who went in, three came out, and one, Cates, was slightly wounded.

THE SHELLS COME FAST

"From then on to about 8 p. m. life was a chance and mighty uncomfortable. It was hot as a furnace, no water, and they had our range to a 'T.' Three men lying in a shallow trench near me were blown to bits.

"You could hear men calling for help in the wheat fields. Their cries would get weaker and weaker and die out. The German planes were thick in the air; they were in groups of from three to twenty. They would look us over and then we would get a pounding.

"We had a machine gun officer with us, and at 6 o'clock a runner came up and reported that Sumner was killed. He commanded the machine gun company with us. He was hit early in the fight, by a bullet, I hear. At the start he remarked: 'This looks easy; they do not seem to have much art.'

"Well, we just lay there all through the hot afternoon.

"It was great—a shell would land near by and you would bounce in your hole.

"As twilight came we sent out water parties for the relief of the wounded. At 9 o'clock we got a message congratulating us, and saying the Algerians would take us over at midnight. We then began to collect our wounded. Some had been evacuated during the day, but at that, we soon had about twenty on the field near us.

"A man who had been blinded wanted me to hold his hand. Another, wounded in the back, wanted his head patted; and so it went; one man got up on his hands and knees; I asked him what he wanted. He said: 'Look at the full moon,' then fell dead. I had him buried, and all the rest I could find.

"The Algerians came up at midnight and we pushed out. They went over at daybreak and got all shot up. We made the relief under German flares and the light from a burning town.

"We went out as we came, through the gully and town, the latter by now all in ruins. The place was full of gas. We pushed on to the forest and fell down in our tracks and slept all day.

A FUNERAL, AT THE FRONT

"That night the Germans shelled us and got three killed and seventeen wounded. We move a bit farther back to the cross road and after burying a few Germans, some of whom showed signs of having been wounded before, we settled down to a short stay.

"It looked like rain, and so Wilmer and I went to an old dressing station to salvage some cover. We were about to go when we stopped to look at a new grave. A rude cross made of two slats from a box had written on it:

"Lester S. Wass, Captain U. S. Marines. July 18, 1918."

"The old crowd at St. Nazaire and Bordeaux—Wass and Sumner killed, Baston and Capt. LeRoy T. Hunt wounded. We then moved further to the rear and camped for the night. Dunlap came to look us over. A carrier pigeon perched on a tree with a message. We decided to shoot him. It was then quite dark, so the shot missed. I then heard the following remarks as I tried to sleep: 'Hell! he only turned around!' 'Send up a flare!' 'Call for a barrage!' etc.

"The next day we were back in a town for some rest and to lick our wounds."

IMPRESSION OF A FRENCH LIEUTENANT

A French lieutenant thus describes the American fighting quality:

"The finest thing in the combat was the dash of the Americans. It was splendid to see those grand fellows, with their tunics thrown off and their shirt sleeves rolled up above their elbows, wading the rivers with the water to their shoulders and throwing themselves on the Boche like bulldogs.

"Any one who has seen such a sight knows what the American army is good for henceforth and to the end of the war. At the sight of these men, magnificent in their youth, physical force, good temper and dash, the Germans fled 'with every leg' or surrendered without awaiting the order to throw away their arms and take off their suspenders, which is the first thing a prisoner is told to do, in order that he may be compelled to keep his hands employed and out of mischief.

"The Germans hurried toward our lines gripping their trousers, haggard and mad with terror.

"Would that every mother in France who has lost a son in the war could have seen that epic sight. They would have seen themselves revenged, and it would have been some consolation to them in their sorrow."

KEEPING THE GERMANS ON THE RUN

The trench deadlock in northern France and Belgium was broken by Ludendorff's fatuous drive in March, 1918. After the allies had stopped it and inaugurated their counter-offensive all Europe made a startling discovery. The Germans were tenacious enough in trench warfare; in open fighting, known as war of maneouvre, they could not stand before American and the allied troops. Incessant attacks, rapidly delivered at the same time at many points on the long line between the North Sea and the Swiss border, were more than they could withstand. The mechanically trained troops of the central empires were futile before armies of men who did their own thinking and delighted in fighting an enemy they could see from the feet up. German armies had twice been almost at the gates of Paris. The first time they were driven back they dug themselves in. That was in 1915. The second time, in the spring of 1918, they were allowed no time for digging in. From the July days of 1918, when American soldiers at Chateau Thierry beat the best troops that ever were trained in Prussia, they were kept going. How industriously may be inferred from the story of the young corporal who was sitting on the roadside trying to tie the soles of his shoes to the uppers, in a hurry. Somebody asked him what was the matter.

"O, nothing much," said he. "Only I came over here to kill Germans, but they never told me I'd have to run 'em to death."

A STRANGER TO HIS OWN CHILD

There never was a war so prolific of personal incident in every shade of experience possible to human life. The devastated provinces of France offer perhaps more of these happenings than any other part of the steel-swept, shell-wrecked fronts of all Europe. An Associated Press correspondent tells one that is especially touching.

He was motoring toward Denaen, one of the cities the Germans had occupied through four hard years, when a French officer going in the same direction asked him for a lift, explaining that he had lived there but had neither seen nor heard from his wife during all that time.

Entering the city and turning into his street the officer saw the first house was in ruins. He gave a nervous start. A few doors farther on was his home. The officer climbed out with an effort, his eyes fixed on the place.

There was no sign of life. The windows were shuttered and on the door was a sign showing German officers had been living there. The officer pulled the bell with shaking hand. No one answered. He backed away like a man in a trance and leaned against the car, trembling.

Suddenly the door opened and an aged servant appeared, leading a beautiful baby girl with a wealth of golden curls. The officer took one step toward the child and halted. He was a stranger to his own flesh and blood. The child hid behind the nurse, peering out in fright.

The half blind eyes of the old nurse had recognized her master and she held out her hands, repeating, "Monsieur! Monsieur!" in ecstasy. He crossed the road and grasped her hands, but the baby drew back.

A door opened end a comely young matron came to see what was going on. She caught sight of her husband, then stopped. Her hands flew to her breast. She swayed for a second. With a sob of joy she hurled herself into his arms.

The correspondent moved away. And thus they were left, the nurse beaming on the happy couple and the curly headed youngster looking with troubled eyes at this strong man who had appropriated her mother so completely without a word.

WHAT PERSHING THOUGHT OF HIS YANKS

An American newspaper man who returned from Europe about the time hostilities ceased was informed that General Pershing suggested to Marshal Foch in June 1918, that he thought it bad policy to stick around waiting for the boche and that he felt the time had come to jump in and attack—"But" he was told, "we have not got the troops."

"Whats the matter with the Americans?" Pershing asked.

"They are not yet trained" was Foch's reply.

"Try them and see" said General Pershing. "They will go, anywhere you send them, and I will bet my life on it."

Pershing took the initiative in urging the offensive, supplied the troops that gave Foch his mobile reserve enabling him to strike his blow, and those American troops "delivered the goods."

HEALTH OF ARMY SURPRISING

Official reports to the war department show that the general health of the American army during the war had been surprisingly good. The death rate for all forces at home and abroad up to August 30th, 1918, was 5. per 1,000 men per year, or little more than the civilian death rate for men of the same age groups.

There were 316,000 cases of influenza among the troops in the United States during the late summer and fall of 1918 and of 20,500 deaths, between September 14th and November 8th, 19,800 were ascribed to the epidemic.

ARMY REACHED TOTAL OF 3,664

An official report shows that on the day the Armistice was signed more than twenty-five per cent of the male population of the United States between the ages of 19 and 31 years, were in military service, the army having reached a total of 3,664,000, with more than 2,000,000 of this number in Europe. As compared with an army strength of 189,674 in March 1917, one week before war was declared by the United States.