TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE FEBRUARY 17, 1919 P. 7
I reported to this division about October 1. At this time it was in the St. Mihiel sector, and things were rather quiet. I was assigned to Company E., 353rd Infantry; had only one officer, Captain Portman, a fine man about 6 feet 4 inches tall. On October 5 we were moved from that sector over to the Argonne forest. We were in reserve until October 19, and outside the fact that we were under heavy shell fire all the time we did not have very much excitement. This was my first experience under heavy shell fire, but I soon became adapt at dodging the shells; you see, one can hear them coming about two seconds and if you are quick they are easily dodged. Of course, that applies to intermittent shelling. If it is a regular barrage, one has to depend on luck and nothing else. Captain Portman was transferred on October 16, and that left me in command of the company. I had two lieutenants assigned to the company, Lieutenant Morgan from West Virginia and Lieutenant Shristoph from St. Louis. On October 19 we were placed in the front line, and that was when the real work began. Our line was in the Bois de Bantheville (meaning Bantheville woods—Bois is woods), which woods were very dense, one could hardly see 15 yards ahead in the daytime, so you can imagine what it was at night. We pushed our front line up to the northern edge of the woods during the next five days, a distance of about seven kilometers. The Germans had all paths covered by machine guns, and it was necessary to put all of them out of action before we could advance. Our lines were shelled constantly, and we were gassed at all hours of the day. It was necessary to wear our gas masks most of the time. I lost quite a number of men during this time from shell fire, machine guns and gas. You see, we were not in trenches, but, instead, were pushing forward all the time and then digging little temporary holes at night. After reaching the northern edge of the wood, we consolidated our positions and remained there until November 1. While there we could see the Germans about seven or eight hundred meters away in the edge of the Bois de Andevanne. Constant sniping was carried on by both sides all through the days. I had quite a bit of gas in my system, and it made me pretty sick, but one rather expected to be sick, and no particular attention was given to it.
We had received the information that we were to have a big drive on a second date, and were making all preparations for it. On the night of October 31, at 3:30 a.m., our preparatory barrage opened up. It certainly was wonderful; it was the greatest barrage in American history. We had an immense amount of artillery and all of the machine guns firing at the same time. Of course, a few moments after our barrage had opened up the German realized that something was about to happen and opened up with all of his artillery. There were so many shells coming and going that it was impossible to tell which were our own and which were the Germans’ until one exploded near. I had several fragments of shrapnel strike me on the hand, which cut it pretty badly but not seriously. Then at 5:30 our barrage suddenly lifted, and we went over the top. It is impossible to relate the happenings the remainder of the day; it was constant advance under machine gun fire and shell fire, but we pushed on through the Bois de Barricourt to our day’s objective, reaching it about dusk. I had lost one of my officers and many men. We dug in here for the night with the Germans just in front of us on top of a big hill. That night they launched a counter-attack, which we successfully repulsed without the loss of a foot of ground.
The next morning my company was in support of the assaulting company of our battalion, which meant that I was 200 yards behind the assaulting wave. We were to advance out of the woods we were in and capture the hill the Germans held. They had every inch of ground covered by machine guns, and the minute a man attempted to leave the woods he was shot down. It was then I received an order to take my company around the right flank. That sounded simple, but it was not. However, I carried the company to the right and attacked from that position, and took the hill, but I lost a number of men, mostly wounded, but the battalion was enabled to advance. (I received a special citation in division orders for that.) From there the Germans steadily retreated leaving a few machine gunners to hold us up and delay our advance. We continued the drive up the river Meuse until we were opposite Stenay, which was on high ground and was occupied by a strong German force. The Germans had destroyed all bridges across the river, and it seemed an impossibility to cross, as the river was covered by machine gunners. However, on the night of the 10th of November, my battalion was ordered to cross on pontoons, and after a hard night we did cross and were in the edge of Stenay the next morning. We were ready to attack, when we were told to wait, and at 11 o’clock we received the word that an armistice was on. Needless to say, everyone was glad, but there was no celebration in the front lines that day. Instead, we lay down and went to sleep. That night we moved into Stenay and took up billets in houses. T’was the first time I had been in a house for over a month.
We rested and cleaned up in Stenay until November 24, then started on our march into Germany as part of the Army of Occupation. We marched across Belgium, Luxembourg and then into Germany. It was a hard hike, but also very interesting. The march through Belgium was a revelation. Half of the horrors that the Belgians and French went through have never been told. All along our hike were Belgian towns completely destroyed. But the scenery was beautiful all the way up here.
At present time we are billeted in the town of Prum, which has a population of about 10,000 people. Our work consists of guard duty mostly, and nothing exciting has happened since we have been up here. Most of the Germans have gone about their work and do not pay much attention to us. It seems very strange to pass an ex-German soldier, who a short time ago was fighting against us, but that is a common occurrence now.
This is a very beautiful country, all hills and valleys. Has been snowing here most of the time since our arrival, and we have several feet of snow. I am billeted in an old chateau on the edge of town and have a beautiful view of the surrounding country and the river below.
NOTES: Lieutenant James Guy Tucker Sr. was writing to his father, Guy B. Tucker of Little Rock, Arkansas. He was serving in the National Guard and served with the troops on the Mexican Border in 1916. He served with the 353rd Infantry, 89th Division. He was born on April 14, 1894 in El Dorado, Arkansas and died on December 27, 1964 in Little Rock, Arkansas. He is buried in the Little Rock National Cemetery. His military headstone identifies him as Arkansas Captain 353 Infantry serving in World War I. His son, Jim Guy Tucker, Jr. served as the Governor of Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
I reported to this division about October 1. At this time it was in the St. Mihiel sector, and things were rather quiet. I was assigned to Company E., 353rd Infantry; had only one officer, Captain Portman, a fine man about 6 feet 4 inches tall. On October 5 we were moved from that sector over to the Argonne forest. We were in reserve until October 19, and outside the fact that we were under heavy shell fire all the time we did not have very much excitement. This was my first experience under heavy shell fire, but I soon became adapt at dodging the shells; you see, one can hear them coming about two seconds and if you are quick they are easily dodged. Of course, that applies to intermittent shelling. If it is a regular barrage, one has to depend on luck and nothing else. Captain Portman was transferred on October 16, and that left me in command of the company. I had two lieutenants assigned to the company, Lieutenant Morgan from West Virginia and Lieutenant Shristoph from St. Louis. On October 19 we were placed in the front line, and that was when the real work began. Our line was in the Bois de Bantheville (meaning Bantheville woods—Bois is woods), which woods were very dense, one could hardly see 15 yards ahead in the daytime, so you can imagine what it was at night. We pushed our front line up to the northern edge of the woods during the next five days, a distance of about seven kilometers. The Germans had all paths covered by machine guns, and it was necessary to put all of them out of action before we could advance. Our lines were shelled constantly, and we were gassed at all hours of the day. It was necessary to wear our gas masks most of the time. I lost quite a number of men during this time from shell fire, machine guns and gas. You see, we were not in trenches, but, instead, were pushing forward all the time and then digging little temporary holes at night. After reaching the northern edge of the wood, we consolidated our positions and remained there until November 1. While there we could see the Germans about seven or eight hundred meters away in the edge of the Bois de Andevanne. Constant sniping was carried on by both sides all through the days. I had quite a bit of gas in my system, and it made me pretty sick, but one rather expected to be sick, and no particular attention was given to it.
We had received the information that we were to have a big drive on a second date, and were making all preparations for it. On the night of October 31, at 3:30 a.m., our preparatory barrage opened up. It certainly was wonderful; it was the greatest barrage in American history. We had an immense amount of artillery and all of the machine guns firing at the same time. Of course, a few moments after our barrage had opened up the German realized that something was about to happen and opened up with all of his artillery. There were so many shells coming and going that it was impossible to tell which were our own and which were the Germans’ until one exploded near. I had several fragments of shrapnel strike me on the hand, which cut it pretty badly but not seriously. Then at 5:30 our barrage suddenly lifted, and we went over the top. It is impossible to relate the happenings the remainder of the day; it was constant advance under machine gun fire and shell fire, but we pushed on through the Bois de Barricourt to our day’s objective, reaching it about dusk. I had lost one of my officers and many men. We dug in here for the night with the Germans just in front of us on top of a big hill. That night they launched a counter-attack, which we successfully repulsed without the loss of a foot of ground.
The next morning my company was in support of the assaulting company of our battalion, which meant that I was 200 yards behind the assaulting wave. We were to advance out of the woods we were in and capture the hill the Germans held. They had every inch of ground covered by machine guns, and the minute a man attempted to leave the woods he was shot down. It was then I received an order to take my company around the right flank. That sounded simple, but it was not. However, I carried the company to the right and attacked from that position, and took the hill, but I lost a number of men, mostly wounded, but the battalion was enabled to advance. (I received a special citation in division orders for that.) From there the Germans steadily retreated leaving a few machine gunners to hold us up and delay our advance. We continued the drive up the river Meuse until we were opposite Stenay, which was on high ground and was occupied by a strong German force. The Germans had destroyed all bridges across the river, and it seemed an impossibility to cross, as the river was covered by machine gunners. However, on the night of the 10th of November, my battalion was ordered to cross on pontoons, and after a hard night we did cross and were in the edge of Stenay the next morning. We were ready to attack, when we were told to wait, and at 11 o’clock we received the word that an armistice was on. Needless to say, everyone was glad, but there was no celebration in the front lines that day. Instead, we lay down and went to sleep. That night we moved into Stenay and took up billets in houses. T’was the first time I had been in a house for over a month.
We rested and cleaned up in Stenay until November 24, then started on our march into Germany as part of the Army of Occupation. We marched across Belgium, Luxembourg and then into Germany. It was a hard hike, but also very interesting. The march through Belgium was a revelation. Half of the horrors that the Belgians and French went through have never been told. All along our hike were Belgian towns completely destroyed. But the scenery was beautiful all the way up here.
At present time we are billeted in the town of Prum, which has a population of about 10,000 people. Our work consists of guard duty mostly, and nothing exciting has happened since we have been up here. Most of the Germans have gone about their work and do not pay much attention to us. It seems very strange to pass an ex-German soldier, who a short time ago was fighting against us, but that is a common occurrence now.
This is a very beautiful country, all hills and valleys. Has been snowing here most of the time since our arrival, and we have several feet of snow. I am billeted in an old chateau on the edge of town and have a beautiful view of the surrounding country and the river below.
NOTES: Lieutenant James Guy Tucker Sr. was writing to his father, Guy B. Tucker of Little Rock, Arkansas. He was serving in the National Guard and served with the troops on the Mexican Border in 1916. He served with the 353rd Infantry, 89th Division. He was born on April 14, 1894 in El Dorado, Arkansas and died on December 27, 1964 in Little Rock, Arkansas. He is buried in the Little Rock National Cemetery. His military headstone identifies him as Arkansas Captain 353 Infantry serving in World War I. His son, Jim Guy Tucker, Jr. served as the Governor of Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT