TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DERMOTT NEWS NOVEMBER 14, 1918 P. 8
Somewhere in France
10-9-18
My dear Lola:
I should have written to you some days ago but I have been very busy ever since we got out of the battle and then too I have rather shrunk from the attempt to describe to you the happenings of the past two weeks; they have been so tremendous and appalling that I fear that I cannot begin to give an adequate account of what I have seen and experienced. When I wrote you last we were located in French dugouts just back of the front line waiting for orders to come that would send us out to undergo our baptism of fire. Needless to say that we were all more or less nervous, for we knew not what the coming battle would bring to us and no doubt our imaginations were busy painting rosy or gloomy pictures of the outcome according to the temperament of the individual.
Finally orders were received that we would attack at a certain hour of a certain day and that on the night before the attack our regiment would take over the front line then held by the French so that we would be ready to go over the top at the appointed hour. On the given night we left our comfortable dugouts and started for the front lines. It was dark as pitch and the roads were conjested with artillery and moving troops. I had to lead my medical detachment to the designated spot which was on a large hill just back of the front line. I had no guide and had never been over the ground before. We were compelled to keep absolute silence so that the Germans would not find out what was going on. I will never forget that night’s march.
We stumbled on through the dark not knowing whether we would wind up at our objective or in the German lines, but fortune favored us, for after about two hours of wandering we saw the outline of the hill we were to reach looming ahead, and in a few minutes we had joined the rest of our troops who had already reached it. The attack was to be preceded by an artillery barrage which would last for several hours before the infantry was to go forward. We were all put in a tunnel in the side of a hill to be out of danger of stray shots from artillery. The tunnel was just wide enough to sit down and was damp and cold; of course we had no lights and we were crowded up like sheep in a pen. Promptly at 11:30 the barrage started and from then to daylight there was one continuous deafening roar from the big guns. It seemed as though all the cannons in the world were concentrated on that one spot, and the flashes from the guns lighted up the sky as far as we could see. It seemed impossible that anything could live where the shells were falling. We sat and shivered through the night and waited for daylight and the hour of attack; finally 5:30 came and the order to advance came down the lines. There was no hesitation, every man was ready and they moved forward promptly, through the trenches and out into no man’s land. I shall never forget the sight that greeted my eyes when we emerged from the trenches and gazed out across “no man’s land” toward where we supposed the Germans were.
It was a foggy morning and the smoke from the guns and bursting shells had settled down until you could hardly see 20 feet ahead of you. We were soon reminded that the Germans had not all been killed, for machine guns opened on our left and the bullets began to whistle around us and shells from their big guns exploded within 50 feet of where we were standing. We had to lie down, or rather I should say, we dropped and stayed there over an hour expecting every minute to be hit by a machine gun bullet or have a shell dropped on us.
Finally the Germans were driven back and we started on our search for the wounded. We were not long in finding them, for we had hardly gone 100 feet from where we had been held up when we found nine men in a shell hole; three had been killed and six wounded by a machine gun. I think none of us had realized the danger we were in until we found these first of what was to be many, many casualties. I could see by the expression on the faces of many men that they had suddenly been brought face to face with the fact that they were in deadly danger. As to my own feelings, can say that I experienced a sensation of surprise more than fear, surprise that any of were alive after the fire we had been under. That was the beginning of the battle; the rest was one continual round of finding the wounded, dressing them and evacuating them to the rear. All of it was done under the continued and continual fire from the German machine guns and artillery. For 8 days and 7 nights we were in the front line with very little to eat and nothing to sleep on but the ground. We had no protection from the elements, not even a put tent, and three nights out of seven it rained heavily. We were all soaked to the skin and half frozen; the wonder is that any of us came out alive. I looked death in the face so often during those days and nights of horror that I ceased to have any fear of it and developed the attitude of most of the soldiers “Ain’t no use to dodge, if its got your name on it, it will get you.”
Our regiment suffered heavy casualties. Over 50 percent of the officers were killed and about 40 percent of the men. We lost one Sgt. In the Medical Detachment killed and seven men wounded. Capt. Rankin and Lt. Griffith of our detachment were wounded, and Lts. Reed, Collier, McDaniel and Wilson all got sick and had to go to the hospital, so the only medical offices left are Capt. Jump, Lt. Hartwig and myself. I cannot understand how I got out alive; time after time shells would explode within a few feet of me. I was standing right by Capt. Rankin when he was hit, it was just by the mercy of God that I got out alive. To add to the misery of conditions, we haven’t had a bath in two weeks and don’t know when we will get one. We didn’t get to shave for over a week and looked like a bunch of wild men, but we are happy, we have met the Germans and have driven them back over ten miles and are now on our way back to billets for a rest. And now some good news for you. I have been recommended for a majority for meritorious service on the battlefield. Col. Cavanaugh recommended me first and wrote quite a flattering letter about me, and Colonel Field told Colonel Cavanaugh that he would approve the recommendation, so guess I will get it but it will take some time. I sure feel quite proud of myself and feel that I have been rewarded for my work on the battlefield and that politics had nothing to do with it.
It has been several days since I wrote the first part of this letter and on reading it over attempted to tear it up as it is such a weak attempt to describe the battle of Sept. 26th to Oct. 4th. You no doubt read in the papers of the great American attack that begun on that date. Well we were a part of it and the 91st Division has made a name for itself that will go down in history, for we advanced further in shorter time than the Divisions on either side of us. I could write page after page of the horrors of the battlefield, of how dead men and horses literally covered the ground, and of how the wounded suffered, but the most terrible thing of all to me was the diabolical shell fire from the German artillery. We had a dressing station located in an old building in a partly destroyed ___that we had driven the Germans out of and a battery of our artillery was located in a ravine just below. Well the Germans were after that battery and every shell they fired would either whistle over us or explode all around us. We occupied this building four days and nights and they never let up the whole time we were there, but for some unknown reason they never hit us; still we were expecting it all the time and the infernal whirl of the shells coming over finally got on all our nerves.
The reason this letter was not completed and mailed when it was started was because we have been on the march for several days and I havn’t had an opportunity sooner. I am going to close now and write you a better letter in a day or two. With much love to you and the kiddies from,
Paul
Capt. Paul E. Johnson M. C.
363rd Infantry
NOTES: Paul Edward Johnson died on July 1, 1943. He is buried in the Los Angeles National Cemetery in Los Angeles, California. His military headstone identifies him as an Arkansas Major serving in the Medical Corp. He departed St. Nazaire, France on March 20, 1919 onboard the Kentuckian. He arrived in Brooklyn, New York on April 1. He was listed as serving as a Major in Hdq. Co. 363rd Infantry. He was writing to his wife Lola.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON
Somewhere in France
10-9-18
My dear Lola:
I should have written to you some days ago but I have been very busy ever since we got out of the battle and then too I have rather shrunk from the attempt to describe to you the happenings of the past two weeks; they have been so tremendous and appalling that I fear that I cannot begin to give an adequate account of what I have seen and experienced. When I wrote you last we were located in French dugouts just back of the front line waiting for orders to come that would send us out to undergo our baptism of fire. Needless to say that we were all more or less nervous, for we knew not what the coming battle would bring to us and no doubt our imaginations were busy painting rosy or gloomy pictures of the outcome according to the temperament of the individual.
Finally orders were received that we would attack at a certain hour of a certain day and that on the night before the attack our regiment would take over the front line then held by the French so that we would be ready to go over the top at the appointed hour. On the given night we left our comfortable dugouts and started for the front lines. It was dark as pitch and the roads were conjested with artillery and moving troops. I had to lead my medical detachment to the designated spot which was on a large hill just back of the front line. I had no guide and had never been over the ground before. We were compelled to keep absolute silence so that the Germans would not find out what was going on. I will never forget that night’s march.
We stumbled on through the dark not knowing whether we would wind up at our objective or in the German lines, but fortune favored us, for after about two hours of wandering we saw the outline of the hill we were to reach looming ahead, and in a few minutes we had joined the rest of our troops who had already reached it. The attack was to be preceded by an artillery barrage which would last for several hours before the infantry was to go forward. We were all put in a tunnel in the side of a hill to be out of danger of stray shots from artillery. The tunnel was just wide enough to sit down and was damp and cold; of course we had no lights and we were crowded up like sheep in a pen. Promptly at 11:30 the barrage started and from then to daylight there was one continuous deafening roar from the big guns. It seemed as though all the cannons in the world were concentrated on that one spot, and the flashes from the guns lighted up the sky as far as we could see. It seemed impossible that anything could live where the shells were falling. We sat and shivered through the night and waited for daylight and the hour of attack; finally 5:30 came and the order to advance came down the lines. There was no hesitation, every man was ready and they moved forward promptly, through the trenches and out into no man’s land. I shall never forget the sight that greeted my eyes when we emerged from the trenches and gazed out across “no man’s land” toward where we supposed the Germans were.
It was a foggy morning and the smoke from the guns and bursting shells had settled down until you could hardly see 20 feet ahead of you. We were soon reminded that the Germans had not all been killed, for machine guns opened on our left and the bullets began to whistle around us and shells from their big guns exploded within 50 feet of where we were standing. We had to lie down, or rather I should say, we dropped and stayed there over an hour expecting every minute to be hit by a machine gun bullet or have a shell dropped on us.
Finally the Germans were driven back and we started on our search for the wounded. We were not long in finding them, for we had hardly gone 100 feet from where we had been held up when we found nine men in a shell hole; three had been killed and six wounded by a machine gun. I think none of us had realized the danger we were in until we found these first of what was to be many, many casualties. I could see by the expression on the faces of many men that they had suddenly been brought face to face with the fact that they were in deadly danger. As to my own feelings, can say that I experienced a sensation of surprise more than fear, surprise that any of were alive after the fire we had been under. That was the beginning of the battle; the rest was one continual round of finding the wounded, dressing them and evacuating them to the rear. All of it was done under the continued and continual fire from the German machine guns and artillery. For 8 days and 7 nights we were in the front line with very little to eat and nothing to sleep on but the ground. We had no protection from the elements, not even a put tent, and three nights out of seven it rained heavily. We were all soaked to the skin and half frozen; the wonder is that any of us came out alive. I looked death in the face so often during those days and nights of horror that I ceased to have any fear of it and developed the attitude of most of the soldiers “Ain’t no use to dodge, if its got your name on it, it will get you.”
Our regiment suffered heavy casualties. Over 50 percent of the officers were killed and about 40 percent of the men. We lost one Sgt. In the Medical Detachment killed and seven men wounded. Capt. Rankin and Lt. Griffith of our detachment were wounded, and Lts. Reed, Collier, McDaniel and Wilson all got sick and had to go to the hospital, so the only medical offices left are Capt. Jump, Lt. Hartwig and myself. I cannot understand how I got out alive; time after time shells would explode within a few feet of me. I was standing right by Capt. Rankin when he was hit, it was just by the mercy of God that I got out alive. To add to the misery of conditions, we haven’t had a bath in two weeks and don’t know when we will get one. We didn’t get to shave for over a week and looked like a bunch of wild men, but we are happy, we have met the Germans and have driven them back over ten miles and are now on our way back to billets for a rest. And now some good news for you. I have been recommended for a majority for meritorious service on the battlefield. Col. Cavanaugh recommended me first and wrote quite a flattering letter about me, and Colonel Field told Colonel Cavanaugh that he would approve the recommendation, so guess I will get it but it will take some time. I sure feel quite proud of myself and feel that I have been rewarded for my work on the battlefield and that politics had nothing to do with it.
It has been several days since I wrote the first part of this letter and on reading it over attempted to tear it up as it is such a weak attempt to describe the battle of Sept. 26th to Oct. 4th. You no doubt read in the papers of the great American attack that begun on that date. Well we were a part of it and the 91st Division has made a name for itself that will go down in history, for we advanced further in shorter time than the Divisions on either side of us. I could write page after page of the horrors of the battlefield, of how dead men and horses literally covered the ground, and of how the wounded suffered, but the most terrible thing of all to me was the diabolical shell fire from the German artillery. We had a dressing station located in an old building in a partly destroyed ___that we had driven the Germans out of and a battery of our artillery was located in a ravine just below. Well the Germans were after that battery and every shell they fired would either whistle over us or explode all around us. We occupied this building four days and nights and they never let up the whole time we were there, but for some unknown reason they never hit us; still we were expecting it all the time and the infernal whirl of the shells coming over finally got on all our nerves.
The reason this letter was not completed and mailed when it was started was because we have been on the march for several days and I havn’t had an opportunity sooner. I am going to close now and write you a better letter in a day or two. With much love to you and the kiddies from,
Paul
Capt. Paul E. Johnson M. C.
363rd Infantry
NOTES: Paul Edward Johnson died on July 1, 1943. He is buried in the Los Angeles National Cemetery in Los Angeles, California. His military headstone identifies him as an Arkansas Major serving in the Medical Corp. He departed St. Nazaire, France on March 20, 1919 onboard the Kentuckian. He arrived in Brooklyn, New York on April 1. He was listed as serving as a Major in Hdq. Co. 363rd Infantry. He was writing to his wife Lola.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON