TRANSCRIBED FROM THE ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT OCTOBER 25, 1918 PP. 1, 9
I am back at camp once more, after having the greatest experience of my life. I feel utterly incapable of describing it as I experienced it, but I will do my best.
You no doubt read in the papers of the “Saint Mihiel drive” by the First American army. Well, your boy was right in it, and saw the whole thing. And believe me, the experience I had was this, the first big battle of our great army and the first battle I have ever been in, will always be remembered vividly by me.
Now that it is all over, I can tell you exactly where I was and all about it. The little town Beaumont which is between Xivray and Seichepray, is the place from which I saw the whole show.
The hour of 5 o’clock in the morning of September 12 was the time set for the “doughboys” to go over the top. The night before I went up to Beaumont from Boucq, which is the little town about four miles back from which I wrote my last two letters. It was raining and would ordinarily have been termed a bad night on which to be out, but on THIS night, the night of the American attack, no one minded such a thing as rain, and very few were aware of its presence.
I got up to Beaumont about 11 o’clock. This is a little town about three-quarters of a mile behind the first line trenches, and it was plumb full of strongly fortified dugouts on this particular night. In these dugouts where sheltered all the generals and majors and their assistants of the two divisions holding this sector. On the right were more American divisions. On the left were a few French, and further on our left were more Americans.
There was more artillery collected into this sector than I knew existed in the world. There were machine guns by the thousands; there were 75 m.m. guns (three-inch); there were 155’s (six-inch); there were 220’s, 290’s, and even 305’s. These later, which are big naval 12-inch guns, were mounted on rail road tracks. There were at least 800 field guns in this sector. There were tanks galore; there were airplanes galore, and there were observation balloons. In short, we had everything in the way of equipment and we had the best soldiers that have ever planted feet on French soil—bar none.
The attack was to be preceded by four hours’ of preparation by the artillery. At 1 o’clock sharp, the boys cut loose. I have never heard such a noise, except once, and that was later on at 5 o’clock. It sounded like the whole world was breaking open. Most of the batteries were back of a hill right behind us and the shells came screaming over us by the hundreds—yes, by the thousands and tens of thousands. Presently the enemy began to throw some fast ones back himself and I am here to state that some didn’t hit so far from our hole in the ground. Star shells were thrown up by the Huns. These burst about 500 or 600 yards above the ground—out comes a little parachute bearing a light which makes everything as bright as day. A number of our guns were shooting thermite shells, which burst in the air and throw out long streams of inexhaustible fire which look like a weeping willow of sparks. This continued for four hours. The fire from the enemy gradually deceased until only an occasional shell came over.
At exactly 5 a.m.—the zero hour—the barrage was laid down for our infantry. I will never forget it. It was beautiful—absolutely beautiful. The noise was deafening, now became doubly so. Every gun in the sector began shooting as fast as it possibly could. Our fire had become too hot for the enemy artillery and they had practically ceased firing and were in retreat. We could not resist the temptation, so several of us crept out of the dugout to a point behind a wall, from where we could see our first lines. There we could plainly see our doughboys as they “went over the top” of our trenches and trudged across “No Man’s Land” behind the perfect wall of steel laid down by our artillery.
Almost immediately after our boys went over the top for miles up and down the German lines could be seen a stream of red rockets—the call from the German infantry for a barrage from their artillery. But by this time their artillery was either blown to pieces or was in disorderly retreat, so only a very feeble barrage was given in response. Soon the smoke was so thick that we could no longer see the doughboys.
In a couple of hours the German prisoners began to stream into our little village of Beaumont. They were a motley looking crowd. Most of them were young boys ranging in age from 16 to 21, poorly dressed, lean looking and scared to death, for they had been told that the Americans took no prisoners and they would be killed after being questioned. These men had been left behind by the Germans to man the machine guns and cover their retreat. But when our infantry reached them they surrendered by the hundreds without firing a shot.
The morale of the German soldier is fast being broken. If the men that opposed us in the drive are a fair specimen of the whole German army, their morale is already broken, for we literally scared them to death. Since the days of Chateau Thierry, Soissons and Montdidier they have learned that the American soldier is afraid of nothing and is a fighter from the groud up.
This stream of prisoners grew and grew until the number ran into thousands. After they realized that we were human beings after all, and were not going to kill them, they became quite happy, and all were soon grinning contentedly. It was quite an unusual sight that day to see a hundred Germans marching back, guarded by only two Americans, one in front of the column and one in the rear.
During the afternoon of this first day I went across No Man’s Land, or rather, what formerly was, and roamed about the enemy first lines. Our barrage had torn them to pieces. The men had taken cover in the dugouts and when our boys had come they threw up their hands and were marched back. Consequently there were few dead Germans lying around.
By sunset that day we had advanced five miles! Our doughboys had cleaned out all machine gun nests and every piece of artillery had been moved up to new positions behind the infantry, and so the battle continued, with the Huns in full retreat. As the sun went down I could see eight villages in flames—villages left by the Germans—they always burn everything behind them.
The rest of the story you have read in the papers. It consisted of merely chasing the Germans, capturing more prisoners, and many of their guns and stores. The Germans had known beforehand that we were coming, but they did not know that we could attack in a rainstorm amid six inches of mud, and so it was a surprise and a victory for the First American army.
The morale of the boys was wonderful. They were eager for the fight and bore hardships splendidly. Of course we had our casualties for such is the game of war, but they were light. Those that died fell with their face toward Germany and gritting their teeth like the men that they are. They gave their all, but they lived and died for their country and how can one live his life better?
I shall never forget a scene as long as I live—a scene which occurred before my very eyes, and which shows the spirit of the American soldier. One poor fellow was brought in on a litter. He was riddled with machine gun bullets and was dying as they brought him to the dressing station near which I was standing at the time. He died with a smile on his lips and his last words were these: “I can rest now; I got two Germans.”
That boy was a MAN, and I pray to God that when I die I may do so as nobly and grandly as he. Over here where a man stares death in the face day after day he soon realizes that when judgement is passed it is not how long a life he lives that counts, but rather how he has lived it. In all its grandeur this business is perhaps a horrible one, but it is for the right and so is a good one.
NOTES: This partial letter was written by Capt. William Archie McDonnell to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. S. McDonnell. He was born on November 20, 1894 in Altheimer, Arkansas and died on January 28, 1988 in St. Louis, Missouri. He was a graduate of the second Officers Training Camp in Leon Springs, Texas. He was an assistant operational officer with the regular army. He was described as being of medium height and medium build with blue eyes and brown hair. He is buried in the Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
I am back at camp once more, after having the greatest experience of my life. I feel utterly incapable of describing it as I experienced it, but I will do my best.
You no doubt read in the papers of the “Saint Mihiel drive” by the First American army. Well, your boy was right in it, and saw the whole thing. And believe me, the experience I had was this, the first big battle of our great army and the first battle I have ever been in, will always be remembered vividly by me.
Now that it is all over, I can tell you exactly where I was and all about it. The little town Beaumont which is between Xivray and Seichepray, is the place from which I saw the whole show.
The hour of 5 o’clock in the morning of September 12 was the time set for the “doughboys” to go over the top. The night before I went up to Beaumont from Boucq, which is the little town about four miles back from which I wrote my last two letters. It was raining and would ordinarily have been termed a bad night on which to be out, but on THIS night, the night of the American attack, no one minded such a thing as rain, and very few were aware of its presence.
I got up to Beaumont about 11 o’clock. This is a little town about three-quarters of a mile behind the first line trenches, and it was plumb full of strongly fortified dugouts on this particular night. In these dugouts where sheltered all the generals and majors and their assistants of the two divisions holding this sector. On the right were more American divisions. On the left were a few French, and further on our left were more Americans.
There was more artillery collected into this sector than I knew existed in the world. There were machine guns by the thousands; there were 75 m.m. guns (three-inch); there were 155’s (six-inch); there were 220’s, 290’s, and even 305’s. These later, which are big naval 12-inch guns, were mounted on rail road tracks. There were at least 800 field guns in this sector. There were tanks galore; there were airplanes galore, and there were observation balloons. In short, we had everything in the way of equipment and we had the best soldiers that have ever planted feet on French soil—bar none.
The attack was to be preceded by four hours’ of preparation by the artillery. At 1 o’clock sharp, the boys cut loose. I have never heard such a noise, except once, and that was later on at 5 o’clock. It sounded like the whole world was breaking open. Most of the batteries were back of a hill right behind us and the shells came screaming over us by the hundreds—yes, by the thousands and tens of thousands. Presently the enemy began to throw some fast ones back himself and I am here to state that some didn’t hit so far from our hole in the ground. Star shells were thrown up by the Huns. These burst about 500 or 600 yards above the ground—out comes a little parachute bearing a light which makes everything as bright as day. A number of our guns were shooting thermite shells, which burst in the air and throw out long streams of inexhaustible fire which look like a weeping willow of sparks. This continued for four hours. The fire from the enemy gradually deceased until only an occasional shell came over.
At exactly 5 a.m.—the zero hour—the barrage was laid down for our infantry. I will never forget it. It was beautiful—absolutely beautiful. The noise was deafening, now became doubly so. Every gun in the sector began shooting as fast as it possibly could. Our fire had become too hot for the enemy artillery and they had practically ceased firing and were in retreat. We could not resist the temptation, so several of us crept out of the dugout to a point behind a wall, from where we could see our first lines. There we could plainly see our doughboys as they “went over the top” of our trenches and trudged across “No Man’s Land” behind the perfect wall of steel laid down by our artillery.
Almost immediately after our boys went over the top for miles up and down the German lines could be seen a stream of red rockets—the call from the German infantry for a barrage from their artillery. But by this time their artillery was either blown to pieces or was in disorderly retreat, so only a very feeble barrage was given in response. Soon the smoke was so thick that we could no longer see the doughboys.
In a couple of hours the German prisoners began to stream into our little village of Beaumont. They were a motley looking crowd. Most of them were young boys ranging in age from 16 to 21, poorly dressed, lean looking and scared to death, for they had been told that the Americans took no prisoners and they would be killed after being questioned. These men had been left behind by the Germans to man the machine guns and cover their retreat. But when our infantry reached them they surrendered by the hundreds without firing a shot.
The morale of the German soldier is fast being broken. If the men that opposed us in the drive are a fair specimen of the whole German army, their morale is already broken, for we literally scared them to death. Since the days of Chateau Thierry, Soissons and Montdidier they have learned that the American soldier is afraid of nothing and is a fighter from the groud up.
This stream of prisoners grew and grew until the number ran into thousands. After they realized that we were human beings after all, and were not going to kill them, they became quite happy, and all were soon grinning contentedly. It was quite an unusual sight that day to see a hundred Germans marching back, guarded by only two Americans, one in front of the column and one in the rear.
During the afternoon of this first day I went across No Man’s Land, or rather, what formerly was, and roamed about the enemy first lines. Our barrage had torn them to pieces. The men had taken cover in the dugouts and when our boys had come they threw up their hands and were marched back. Consequently there were few dead Germans lying around.
By sunset that day we had advanced five miles! Our doughboys had cleaned out all machine gun nests and every piece of artillery had been moved up to new positions behind the infantry, and so the battle continued, with the Huns in full retreat. As the sun went down I could see eight villages in flames—villages left by the Germans—they always burn everything behind them.
The rest of the story you have read in the papers. It consisted of merely chasing the Germans, capturing more prisoners, and many of their guns and stores. The Germans had known beforehand that we were coming, but they did not know that we could attack in a rainstorm amid six inches of mud, and so it was a surprise and a victory for the First American army.
The morale of the boys was wonderful. They were eager for the fight and bore hardships splendidly. Of course we had our casualties for such is the game of war, but they were light. Those that died fell with their face toward Germany and gritting their teeth like the men that they are. They gave their all, but they lived and died for their country and how can one live his life better?
I shall never forget a scene as long as I live—a scene which occurred before my very eyes, and which shows the spirit of the American soldier. One poor fellow was brought in on a litter. He was riddled with machine gun bullets and was dying as they brought him to the dressing station near which I was standing at the time. He died with a smile on his lips and his last words were these: “I can rest now; I got two Germans.”
That boy was a MAN, and I pray to God that when I die I may do so as nobly and grandly as he. Over here where a man stares death in the face day after day he soon realizes that when judgement is passed it is not how long a life he lives that counts, but rather how he has lived it. In all its grandeur this business is perhaps a horrible one, but it is for the right and so is a good one.
NOTES: This partial letter was written by Capt. William Archie McDonnell to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. S. McDonnell. He was born on November 20, 1894 in Altheimer, Arkansas and died on January 28, 1988 in St. Louis, Missouri. He was a graduate of the second Officers Training Camp in Leon Springs, Texas. He was an assistant operational officer with the regular army. He was described as being of medium height and medium build with blue eyes and brown hair. He is buried in the Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT