TRANSCRIBED FROM THE BAXTER BULLETIN DECEMBER 20, 1918 P. 1
My Dear Messrs Shiras and friends of Baxter Co:
It has been several weeks since I have troubled you with a few lines from “over here” and may not trouble you again soon as we are kept very busy at present.
One reason for writing tonight is, I feel perfectly safe. I am not working and am forty feet below the surface and wish to say that it is the first opportunity I have had for several days, as the modern form of amusement has been coming thick and fast for some time. I have not taken time to send a “whig Bang” to the Dear folks at home, so you may see that our time has been well occupied.
I climbed the stairway a few minutes ago and was gently reminded of the activities of the outer world by the falling thick and fast of the Hun’s H.E. around the dug-out, therefore my reason for feeling so safe and cozy down here, although my parlor is poorly furnished. I am sitting on a stretcher turned edge-wise and am using a piece of dugout siding covered with a Baxter Bulletin for a writing desk.
Regarding the war it is needless for me to say anything for you hear one thing and we hear another, and the more yon hear the less you know. But in the States, you never hear what we do. All that we who are here really know is there is a war on this side of the water, and I think we are the only ones who, in the true sense, can realize what these few words mean. But why worry? If you wish to make a Yank happy, give him an American cigarette and show him a German.
A short account of the war as it is “over here.” In one of the recent “Hop overs” (A few years ago they would have been called battles the Engineers as usual were ordered to play their part in the big drama. The evening before we went into the line, we were marched ten kilometers and in a cold rain, tried to “cop” a few hours of sleep in an open trench, but disagreeable weather kept sleep away. Next day there was nothing to do but keep under cover until darkness when the grand play would be staged. At 9:00 p. m. we went foward, making all preparations possible before zero hour. Many a young man has grown old in a few hours, waiting for the word go. Knowing when you must go and what must be done at the exact moment causes a mental and physical strain which is almost unindurable and will never be met in civil life, I have seen many men at the age of 22 perfectly gray.
When “E” company was operating this wild night, “No Man’s Land” was a very bad swamp, 1/2 kilometers in width, our line on one side and the Hun’s line of the opposite. This swamp which has been fought over time after time, gassed and mined, full of shell holes and mine pits with mud and water from three to four feet deep make it impossible for the “dough boys” to cross unless assisted by the engineers. When the barrage opens, the “dough boys” have a given time to reach the enemy’s line, therefore, the Engineers must help, for if the infantry fails to reach the enemy positions in time-Well this must not occur. So to be sure that nothing interferes with the progress of the first act, the Engineers have the pleasure of crossing “No Man’s Land” before the barrage opens. Two and one-half hours before the “hop over,” we sergeants were shown where we were to cross the disputed territory. (Before I forget, wish to say that at one time it cost the Crown Prince 80,000 men to cross this swamp. I will describe my own path across, as I had my hands full at this one place, but I was in charge of only one of four sections, doing likewise, there being a distance of one-fourth mile apart with one Captain and one Lt. in charge of the Company and well worthy of their rank. In total darkness I started across “No Man’s Land,” wearing a pair of heavy field shoes, Henry Ford hat, gas mask, rifle and bayonet, 200 rounds of ammunition, a hand axe, pair of wire cutters, canteen of water and one can of “Bully Beef,” with this additional weight, the swamp had no bottom for me. Taking two rolls of tape, I tied one end to our front line, I waded in, picking the best road possible and stretching the tape for the Infantry to follow when the “hop over” was ordered. For two and one-half hours, I played leap-frog in and around shell holes, often times stuck in mud up to my waist. Feeling myway in the dark through the nearest Hell I was ever in was very slow and unpleasant work. Half way across I fell into a lagoon, which I was unable to flank, but with the help of the men who were following the tape laying a duck board walk across the swamp, I floated heavy timber on empty ammunition boxes which formed a very good pontoon. Here I was frightened for the first time during the night. The Hun’s machine gun bullets were falling entirely too close to be pleasant and I knew the guns were not very far away and after advancing above a few paces, I fell into a deep shell hole full of water. In the shell hole were several ducks. “I can’t understand why they remained here during the excitement, but at dawn we could see hundreds of them along the river”. The ducks were badly frightened of course, and so was I-much worse, my hair began to creep up through my steel hate for I thought I had fallen into a machine gun nest and believe me-the man behind the gun is the lucky man.
A few minutes before the barrae opened I had succeeded in laying the tape to the river bank which lay directly in front of the German front line. (The average river in France would be called a creek in the states.) To go further than this without a barrage would be murder. I knew the time set for the Zero hour but had no idea how long I had been in “No Man’s Land, and was standing on the bank of the river when, as if every string was pulled on the second, every heavy gun and every machine gun for miles spoke in one burst of thunder, the Hun’s shells going our way and the Yank’s the other, and although I was practically safe while between fire, I never felt so small in all my life. I reached our front line just as the Infantry was given orders to fix bayonets and “over the top”-the first wave out of ten waves that were to go over. By this time the Engineers had assembled at the place we started and picking up bridge material which had been carried down earlier in the night we carried it over in front of the first wave and in seven minutes after reaching the river, the Infantry was crossing high and dry, and each had a pleasant smile as he crossed the bridge for it meant dry clothing on a cold morning, but after crossing, all smiles vanished and when the barrage raised, the rifle and machine gun fire and the click of the bayonets told that work had commenced at close quarters. As the barrage crept forward and wave after wave of Infantry came over, the Huns were driven further and further back ,ie, some of them. The barrage lasted seven and one-half hours and was one of the best I have ever worked under. It was one solid sheet or screen of bursting shells which first fell on the German front line, and slowly creeping backward followed by the Infantry. Much territory was gained and many prisoners were taken. Our casualties were very light. At 12 M, most of the heavy guns had ceased firing and the smoke was clearing away, much to the joy of several thousand tired and hungry boys. At 2:30 p.m. I left the front with a hand full of tired and hungry lads but otherwise feeling fine and after enjoying a cup of hot coffee and a few minutes rest we were ready for the next show.
Goodbye and good lack to the readers of the Baxter Bulletin and the dear folks at home.
Sergt. L.W. Wolf
Co, “E” 108th U.S. Engrs, France
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY PAYTON DHOOGE, KATHY GRIMM, ISAAC WOLTER AND JORDAN HOLYFIELD
My Dear Messrs Shiras and friends of Baxter Co:
It has been several weeks since I have troubled you with a few lines from “over here” and may not trouble you again soon as we are kept very busy at present.
One reason for writing tonight is, I feel perfectly safe. I am not working and am forty feet below the surface and wish to say that it is the first opportunity I have had for several days, as the modern form of amusement has been coming thick and fast for some time. I have not taken time to send a “whig Bang” to the Dear folks at home, so you may see that our time has been well occupied.
I climbed the stairway a few minutes ago and was gently reminded of the activities of the outer world by the falling thick and fast of the Hun’s H.E. around the dug-out, therefore my reason for feeling so safe and cozy down here, although my parlor is poorly furnished. I am sitting on a stretcher turned edge-wise and am using a piece of dugout siding covered with a Baxter Bulletin for a writing desk.
Regarding the war it is needless for me to say anything for you hear one thing and we hear another, and the more yon hear the less you know. But in the States, you never hear what we do. All that we who are here really know is there is a war on this side of the water, and I think we are the only ones who, in the true sense, can realize what these few words mean. But why worry? If you wish to make a Yank happy, give him an American cigarette and show him a German.
A short account of the war as it is “over here.” In one of the recent “Hop overs” (A few years ago they would have been called battles the Engineers as usual were ordered to play their part in the big drama. The evening before we went into the line, we were marched ten kilometers and in a cold rain, tried to “cop” a few hours of sleep in an open trench, but disagreeable weather kept sleep away. Next day there was nothing to do but keep under cover until darkness when the grand play would be staged. At 9:00 p. m. we went foward, making all preparations possible before zero hour. Many a young man has grown old in a few hours, waiting for the word go. Knowing when you must go and what must be done at the exact moment causes a mental and physical strain which is almost unindurable and will never be met in civil life, I have seen many men at the age of 22 perfectly gray.
When “E” company was operating this wild night, “No Man’s Land” was a very bad swamp, 1/2 kilometers in width, our line on one side and the Hun’s line of the opposite. This swamp which has been fought over time after time, gassed and mined, full of shell holes and mine pits with mud and water from three to four feet deep make it impossible for the “dough boys” to cross unless assisted by the engineers. When the barrage opens, the “dough boys” have a given time to reach the enemy’s line, therefore, the Engineers must help, for if the infantry fails to reach the enemy positions in time-Well this must not occur. So to be sure that nothing interferes with the progress of the first act, the Engineers have the pleasure of crossing “No Man’s Land” before the barrage opens. Two and one-half hours before the “hop over,” we sergeants were shown where we were to cross the disputed territory. (Before I forget, wish to say that at one time it cost the Crown Prince 80,000 men to cross this swamp. I will describe my own path across, as I had my hands full at this one place, but I was in charge of only one of four sections, doing likewise, there being a distance of one-fourth mile apart with one Captain and one Lt. in charge of the Company and well worthy of their rank. In total darkness I started across “No Man’s Land,” wearing a pair of heavy field shoes, Henry Ford hat, gas mask, rifle and bayonet, 200 rounds of ammunition, a hand axe, pair of wire cutters, canteen of water and one can of “Bully Beef,” with this additional weight, the swamp had no bottom for me. Taking two rolls of tape, I tied one end to our front line, I waded in, picking the best road possible and stretching the tape for the Infantry to follow when the “hop over” was ordered. For two and one-half hours, I played leap-frog in and around shell holes, often times stuck in mud up to my waist. Feeling myway in the dark through the nearest Hell I was ever in was very slow and unpleasant work. Half way across I fell into a lagoon, which I was unable to flank, but with the help of the men who were following the tape laying a duck board walk across the swamp, I floated heavy timber on empty ammunition boxes which formed a very good pontoon. Here I was frightened for the first time during the night. The Hun’s machine gun bullets were falling entirely too close to be pleasant and I knew the guns were not very far away and after advancing above a few paces, I fell into a deep shell hole full of water. In the shell hole were several ducks. “I can’t understand why they remained here during the excitement, but at dawn we could see hundreds of them along the river”. The ducks were badly frightened of course, and so was I-much worse, my hair began to creep up through my steel hate for I thought I had fallen into a machine gun nest and believe me-the man behind the gun is the lucky man.
A few minutes before the barrae opened I had succeeded in laying the tape to the river bank which lay directly in front of the German front line. (The average river in France would be called a creek in the states.) To go further than this without a barrage would be murder. I knew the time set for the Zero hour but had no idea how long I had been in “No Man’s Land, and was standing on the bank of the river when, as if every string was pulled on the second, every heavy gun and every machine gun for miles spoke in one burst of thunder, the Hun’s shells going our way and the Yank’s the other, and although I was practically safe while between fire, I never felt so small in all my life. I reached our front line just as the Infantry was given orders to fix bayonets and “over the top”-the first wave out of ten waves that were to go over. By this time the Engineers had assembled at the place we started and picking up bridge material which had been carried down earlier in the night we carried it over in front of the first wave and in seven minutes after reaching the river, the Infantry was crossing high and dry, and each had a pleasant smile as he crossed the bridge for it meant dry clothing on a cold morning, but after crossing, all smiles vanished and when the barrage raised, the rifle and machine gun fire and the click of the bayonets told that work had commenced at close quarters. As the barrage crept forward and wave after wave of Infantry came over, the Huns were driven further and further back ,ie, some of them. The barrage lasted seven and one-half hours and was one of the best I have ever worked under. It was one solid sheet or screen of bursting shells which first fell on the German front line, and slowly creeping backward followed by the Infantry. Much territory was gained and many prisoners were taken. Our casualties were very light. At 12 M, most of the heavy guns had ceased firing and the smoke was clearing away, much to the joy of several thousand tired and hungry boys. At 2:30 p.m. I left the front with a hand full of tired and hungry lads but otherwise feeling fine and after enjoying a cup of hot coffee and a few minutes rest we were ready for the next show.
Goodbye and good lack to the readers of the Baxter Bulletin and the dear folks at home.
Sergt. L.W. Wolf
Co, “E” 108th U.S. Engrs, France
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY PAYTON DHOOGE, KATHY GRIMM, ISAAC WOLTER AND JORDAN HOLYFIELD