Supply Company
Supply companies have been organized in the army to carry on the work in the regiment, as the name itself suggests, and even mail order houses do not carry, and dispose of, a more varied line of necessities. On September 5, 1917, the 329th F. A. Supply Company was organized at Camp Custer, Michigan under the able supervision of Captain Glenn E. Phillips and Lieutenant Clifton L. Barnum, who began business with a band of men, or rather would-be soldiers, large enough to form a squad which did "Squads East and West" the better part of two weeks.
A Supply Company, better know as a "Fatigue Outfit," is usually given little or no credit, but were it not for the untiring efforts of the entire company from the Captain down to the lowest buck private, and even the lowly mule, the remaining organization in the regiment would find difficulty in existing.
More squads began to arrive on September 21st and with the coming of the new rookies things in general began to develop rapidly and from "Squads East and West" the gang turned to mule-taming and wagon building.
From chaotic masses of bolts, wheels, sideboards, tail-gates, bottoms and everything else that is required for the job, real army Escort Wagons grew, and the wildest mule soon became gentle as a kitten (almost).
Breaking-in the long-eared creatures was by no means a pleasant or easy task, and everybody, ribbon-clerks, bookkeeepers, lawyers, farmers and laborers, all found difficulty in keeping steady knees when they were ordered to manicure the "pet" assigned to them, for mules have an excellent reputation for executing foot-movements from the rear, and these jacks were no exception.
Some wise mule-skinner has described his favorite animal as being a "Reptile with the ambition for work of a buck private and having the disposition of a First Sergeant."
After a few weeks of patient toil, a well organized wagon-train had developed and the company began real business. It would be useless to enumerate the various items of equipment and supplies that were drawn and issued to maintain the regiment and to prepare it for Overseas Service, but try to imagine what might have been seen in a blacksmith shop, saddlery, shoe shop, stationery store, butcher shop, grocery store, music establishment, coal and wood yard, clothing firm, feed store and everything a ten-cent store or second-hand palace crowds on its counters, then you have some idea of what passes thru the hands of a Supply Officer and his staff.Getting and issuing equipment and materiel is only a part of the work, the most important and nerve-wrecking end of the game is the accounting for government property. Many a night was spent on paper-work and not only nights, but Sundays and holidays found the office staff laboring at their desks while the mules and drivers were assisting the Engineers at road-building, consequently the coveted Detroit and Battle Creek passes were not as numerous as the demand warranted, but the company toiled on uncomplainingly.
Spring came and passed, and the same routine garrison duties were performed, but with the coming of Summer, old Dame Rumor was busy spreading reports concerning an early departure for European service and soon after rumors became facts. After ten months of Camp Custer service, the news was received with much enthusiasm and nobody failed to work at top speed in order to be ready to leave when the order arrived.
Enough lumber, strap-iron, nails and paint was drawn to almost start a new camp and within a short time each organization had built a stack of neatly made and stenciled boxes and crates which when packed filled five real U.S. box cars.
The trip across the sea on the Maunganui was uneventful and not the least bit exciting. The daring submarine failed to make an appearance, not even to amuse the boys who joined the army to see the world and all it contained.
After eleven days of seafaring the coasts of Ireland and Scotland were sighted and before many hours had passed all troops debarked at Liverpool. The stop at this city was indeed a short one, as transportation was awaiting to move the regiment across the country to Southampton, where the 329th encountered its
first experience with a rest camp. Why such places were designated as "REST CAMPS" is a puzzle that will never be solved, yet there was one thing comforting and that was the fact that the floors of the barracks were of SOFT wood which helped considerably to rest weary limbs.
The next day the company sailed across the English Channel to France and landed at Le Havre where another rest camp was found. After a night of rest, orders arrived directing the first move over the famous 40 Hommes et 8 Chevaux route. When 32 men occupied one of these renowned French Pullmans, it was more or less a novelty to make an effort to get a sleep, there were entirely too many feet in the car, and but for that fact, the trick might have been accomplished with a few previous drills by the numbers. It seemed quite evident that the originator of the plan had some idea of creating a four-in-one combination, sleeping, dining, parlor and horse car and for some unknown reason, perhaps German propaganda, the vehicle passes censorship.
The journey ended at the little French town called Messc, where the company spent about ten days hauling rations to the other organizations and ten nights sampling the various brands of wet goods.
After these few days of leisure and a long hike with full packs, Camp Cöetquidan was reached and here the Company resumed the duties it had dropped at Camp Custer.
Equipment was drawn according to the latest Manuals for Service in Europe. The faithful mule was a thing of the past. Horses replaced them much to the regret of the wagoners, and the fine army escort wagons gave way to what was known as British service wagons, which were a poor substitute for the excellent train that was left under the sheds in Michigan, thousands of miles away. Before departing for the front, however, the wagoners assembled another train of American escorts which made traveling a good bit easier.
With rations for a five-day period, and all combat equipment, the company left Cöetquidan for the front on October 26, 1918. Railroad transportation ended at Domgermain, where the regiment assembled for the march into the advance section. The column, composed of supply train, rolling kitchens, ration cars, water carts, caissons, pieces and timbers, together with long lines of troops wearing steel helmets and gas masks, was an impressive sight and made a fellow feel proud to be serving under Old Glory.
The period of the front was long enough to give the Supply Staff a few sleepless nights wondering how to get the necessary rations and supplies from the base sections for the troops in the pits. With the exception of a few shells during the nights, Fritz in no way harassed the Supply Company, nevertheless, it was a big relief when news of the signing of the armistice arrived. It meant that difficulties in obtaining food and equipment were over and with no regret the village of Bouillionville was evacuated two days later and the never-to-be-forgotten hike to Pont-a-Mousson commenced.
Over the shell-torn roads thru No-Mans-Land, up hill and down hill the boys who joined the artillery to ride, hiked on, with heavy packs loaded down with souvenirs, and on November 15th settled at Pont-a-
Mousson, a town that had been a target for German artillery and aerial bombs, rendering a once thriving town a mass of ruins.
From this time, the big question was—When do we go home?—and scarcely a day passed without some rumor about leaving for America.
Life in this town was at its best monotonous. The place was deserted and the boys awaited patiently for the wrecks, that were at one time lively cafes, to resume business and as a matter of fact, this was the first line of business to be established, which helped much to make life worth living and likewise afforded a means for disposing of accumulated francs.
As a joy-killer, rumors with some foundation were spread to the effect that the outfit was to be sent to Germany as part of the Army of Occupation. To strengthen these rumors and to damper home-going hopes, truck loads of equipment were drawn from Toul. However, all noises about troop movements seemed to sift down to mere bubbles which finally burst, leaving the disappointed or sometimes heartened boys to wonder what the next would be.
It was in the early days of February that the order to make ready for moving to the coast arrived. This news was received with more enthusiasm than the signing of the armistice and with exceptional speed the equipment was disposed of at Salvage Dumps and the various depots and within a few days all were ready to board the French sleeping care for the journey into the Le Mans Embarkation Area.
The trip required a period of three days and nights, but nobody complained. Home was in sight and nothing was too hard to go thru to reach that destination. Even the much despised bully-beef was relished on that trip.
At a small town called St. Calais, the company was billeted for about three weeks. It was a big relief to be settled in a place that was surrounded by pretty green farms and void of the damaging effect of shell fire. There were restaurants here, also cafes and regular stores all of which benefited greatly by the sojourn of the company, the members of which found it a novelty to test all the various brands of spirits and to buy as many souvenirs as their packs could hold.
Personal equipment which was much in demand at this time, was drawn at Le Mans, a distance of about twenty-five miles. The trip to the warehouses and back to St. Calais was an all-day grind for the motor trucks and details unless something went wrong with the engine or the road was lost, making it necessary for the crew to camp in some French barn over chickens, pigs, cows and horses, awaiting daybreak for help to arrive.
The next stop was at Camp D’Auvours, which had been at one time a Belgian artillery training camp. This place afforded an opportunity to replace all shortages in personal equipment and after the customary inspections the company again resumed its advance on Brest, the much-talked-of Port of Embarkation. Living conditions in Camp Pontanezen were as good as any the outfit encountered during its wandering over the so-called Sunny France. It is true, rain fell regularly almost every day and there was mud, but since the rain could hardly be prevented, mud was to be expected. There were sidewalks and duckboards and no particular hardships resulting from the mud were felt.
Considering the number of men to be fed and conditions in general, the meals served were good. There was plenty of food and while at times it was somewhat slummy, there was no reason why anyone should have gone hungry.
One thing, however, that was given little or no publicity, and which seemed always to escape the notice of the numerous investigators, was the amount of fatigue work forced upon the men awaiting embarkation. Every man was willing to do something to help pass the time, but it was hard for him to understand why he should be called upon to work in a stone quarry on a Sunday in the rain, or during the night hours on any occasion.
If the German prisoners and labor battalions were allowed the day of rest, it does not seem possible that the work was so necessary that men of good standing should be called upon to split a rock on a Sunday. This unnecessary fatigue work was the only condition at Brest that brought forth complaints from the men of this company. Even then they had no come-back. To protest would perhaps have meant a longer stay at the port.
After a two-week stay at Pontanezen, the mighty Leviathan steamed into the port and orders were issued to the Supply Company to embark the next morning. It worked wonders with the spirits of the men. Home, without a doubt, was now within grasp and the company ceased to be a source of supply for the regiment. Why shouldn’t they have been happy?
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Dental Department; Medical Detachment
Dental Department
In personnel the Dental Department was the smallest individual unit in the regiment. The number of its members fluctuated according to the demand and treatment. It became so small that at times, especially in travel, it was swallowed up and forgotten, but always when a stop was made it came to life and was ready to take care of any toothaches that may have developed in the trip.
When the regiment was organized Captain Clarence Paul Lendgrebe was summoned to duty as head of the Dental Department. During the first few weeks when examining recruits was the business of the hour, he was assisted by an added personnel of one officer and two enlisted men. After the first two big drafts he was left alone to handle the department through the winter.
The main duty of the Dental Department seemed to be treating men preparatory to their transfer to some other regiment, until only a few weeks before we sailed for France. As soon as a good bunch of men were broken in they were taken away from us and sent to some other camp and all there had to have good teeth before they could be transferred. So it was the Doc’s labor lost until we got the last draft. With a trip to the fighting line imminent the department was again increased, this time by two commissioned officers and two enlisted men. No change too k place in the personnel after that until we were ready to go into action.
At Camp Cöetquidan transfers were ordered that left Captain Landgrebe and Private—alone to take care of the regiment’s teeth. Until we reached Le Mans there were no further changes, but here we lost the Dental Department altogether.
On the transport and at every single stop of twenty-four hours or more there was a dentist’s office opened up. Sometimes it was by necessity a crude affair, as at Messac, when the office was of the portable type and could go into action anywhere a tooth ached. At one stage of the game the portable chair broke down and a big fallen log was used instead, the patient lying down full length while being treated. The task of pulling a tooth required only a pair of forceps and a little antiseptic sometimes.
While the batteries were preparing their positions at front, making ready to enter the battle in earnest, the Dental Department was on the job of converting an old German dugout into a sanitary dentist’s office. Conveniences were none to many and treatment was given under difficulty, but in a way a record was established because here the Dental Department began to enlarge its field of operation.
A line-up of soldiers at a dentist’s office would nearly approach the impossible to conceive but that did actually happen at the front. One night a chap from the trenches came back to the battery positions and asked for a dentist, explaining that he had been suffering greatly with a toothache. He was directed to our dental infirmary and was treated by Captain Landgrebe. The next night as soon as darkness fell the command halt was heard outside the dental dugout. The doughboys, guided by their companion who had visited us the night before, had come in force to see the dentist. They were all treated but the next morning the department explained that a shell had blown down their "Dental Infirmary" sign during the night.
The expansion policy was continued after the armistice also. We had moved into Pont-a-Mousson and an office had been established. French troopers who belong to outfits not so fortunate as ours in having a Dental Department, were never turned down when they needed treatment. Russian soldiers away from their organization were also treated and even the German prisoners were taken care of. When the civilian population came back to Pont-a-Mousson they failed to bring their dentist with them, and it was no uncommon affair for them to drop in on Captain Landgrebe.
Records of the department show that approximately three hundred cases from the regiment were treated each month. After the first round of extractions back in Custer that form of operation was not common.
The Dental Department came through the whole affair with only one serious accident.
We will enter that under the head of "Lost in Action." The Captain had just availed himself of a new supply of choice towels when the armistice was signed. In moving from the positions to Pont-a-Mousson someone coming into contact with our baggage train evidently thought that towels were not necessary artillery equipment. The worst part of it was that on such short notice and if the Medical Department proper hadn’t opened up its heart and towel supply we might have seen an order like this: "All men reporting to the Dental Infirmary for treatment will be equipped with a clean towel." And who ever heard of a supply sergeant that had towels on hand?
Medical Detachment
Shortly after the United States declared war against the militarism of the German government, medical training camps were established at some of the permanent army posts scattered throughout the United Sates. One of these camps was located at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana (being a short distance from Indianapolis, the state capital). Doctors of the Medical Reserve Corps of almost every state within a radius of 750 miles were assembled here, together with several thousand men of the Medical Corps, Regular Army, from the various recruiting depots such as Jefferson Barracks, Mo., Columbus Barracks, O., and Ft. Thomas, Ky. It was here that the detachment, Medical Department, No. 12, Artillery Section, was organized per telegraphic orders from the War Department, dated August 23, 1917, which also directed us to proceed to Camp Custer, Michigan, located near Battle Creek....
...We left Fort Benjamin Harrison, Ind., in the early morning of August 27, 1917, and arrived at our new location in the evening of the same day. Camp Custer was located on and among the sand hills which border the Kalamazoo River, so naturally our first impression on getting off the train was the depth of the sand and the enormous mounds of it. From the train we marched with full pack along a road which was merely a path through a corn field, up a giant hill which only served to increase our respect for the dimensionous Michigan sand mounds both in height and depth, to our first view of Camp Custer.
The first impression was that of seeing an enormous lumber yard, with sheds here and there in the course of construction. There were no roads, only dusty lanes between piles of building and waste material. To one side was a building with many partitioned or "stalled" windows where we were told the workmen (of which there were several thousand) checked in and out each day and received their wages. The most peculiar thing was the army post with the absence of soldiers. Besides those who came on the same train with us there were only a few in uniform here and there (from a Michigan National Guard Infantry Regiment) doing guard duty.
Passing through all this confusion we came to a series of skeleton and half-constructed buildings. Just beyond this were a few buildings which the workmen had just completed. In one of these the Y. M. C. A. had improvised a reading and writing room. One nearby was destined to be our home for a few days, which we spent quietly doing nothing.
On August 31, 1917, we were informed that the Detachment Medical Department No. 12 was attached to the 329th Field Artillery for duty. The 329th Field Artillery was then a myth as far as fighting power was concerned, for it was only a "paper regiment" with no combatant troops. About September 4, 1917, the first of the men called to the colors through the selective service act arrived at camp. During the next few days more followed, until the first quote was filled. All through our intensive training season at Fort Benjamin Harrison we were wondering what important role we were to play in counter balance to the long hours we had spent in study. We were soon to know and our initiation was in the examination barracks. Each man coming to camp must be given a thorough physical examination. This, together with the medical attention of the men and the administration of the famous triple typhoid vaccine and smallpox vaccination, comprised our varied duties... {twelve new men arrive for Med. D}
...The gradual increase in the number of men in camp as different quotas were called and accepted soon called for more room and as the barracks for the Artillery Brigade were about completed, we left the Infantry section and took our place in our own barracks where we remained until we left for the port of embarkation. As the men became acclimated to their work and surroundings, less sickness was prevalent in the regiment and less men were accordingly needed to carry on the medical duties....{fifteen men transferred from Med. D}
...Then began the famous battle of steam pipes, ending, to our joy (?) July 16, 1918. What wonderful, terrible days! How we hated and cherished them! Electric lights and steam heat; water, hot, cold or indifferent. Showers, inside, if you please. Passes twice a week with Wednesday and Saturday afternoons off duty as well as Sunday. Commissary and canteen near at hand. Real homelike feeds at Battle Creek with now and then a short leave to skip home. How terrible the hardships of those days compared with the sunshine of France! Compared with the all hours outdoor "shower" of the A. E. F. And the invisible candle gleam of the front. This was the quiet battle but one not soon to be forgotten.
Our time from this period until our departure from camp was a mixture of our regular medical duties such as care of the sick, sanitation inspections, physical examinations, etc., together with various periods of intensive school studies. These included hygiene, sanitation, first aid, anatomy, physiology, pharmacy, therapeutics and dietetics. When the weather permitted these classes were interspersed with outdoor instructions such as foot drill, litter drill and field maneuvers...
...The next few months were spent mostly in school. Besides our regular detachment school, composed of subjects involving our medical duties, we had gas school, packers’ school, physical training school and officers’ school. School days did not seem half as bad as they sounded, especially when the snow was several feet deep and the mercury cramped itself around zero. As it gradually grew warmer with the coming of spring, outdoor activities seemed to predominate and we once more heard the shouted commands of litters left, right by four, on right into line, fall in with shovels and rake, etc., together with athletic games and contests to liven the scene. Mounted reviews also seemed to gain favor and accordingly mounted drill was given both for work and for pleasure. But the pleasure was not grooming.
.....July 16, 1918, found us on our way.....Camp Mills was a city of tents. We thought the sand storms at Camp Custer were bad enough, but the dust storms here were even worse. Then came more inspections. For a while it looked as if there was a race between take away, turn in, re-draw and re-issue....But at last, with the calling in of the old favorite service hat and the issue of the new regulation overseas cap and spiral putties, the equipment and supply situation was again settled. Some fine looking regiment we had the following morning. It usually takes three weeks to learn how to wrap a spiral puttie and at least one week to master the intricate balance of the overseas cap. So you can imagine how we looked with only one night’s practice.
Daily inspections of the regiment were made so the medics were not without work. The open system of baths and open pits for waste water made sanitary inspections more necessary and the constant abuse, by civilians and soldiers, of other outfits of course, of the baths and wash sheds made a medical guard a necessity....
...On July 30th, 1918, the regiment embarked for overseas and sailed the following morning. The ship was a New Zealand transport and was called the Maunganui. Excitement was high until we struck some heavy seas and then hope ebbed. There was no lack of food. Everyone seemed to be giving up their lunch, but order soon presided and the rest of the journey was spent in fine weather. Even though it was summer it was quite cool for we traveled the northern route. Eleven days after we left Hoboken we arrived at Liverpool, via the northern coast of Ireland...
....we arrived [at the rest camp near Le Havre]. It would be well to describe rest camp so as not to confuse it with vacation. A rest camp is a bunkless locality where you march between 5 and 10 miles to get two cups of "wash," blind robin, cheese and war bread, sleep over night on the soft side of a board and then duplicate the hike the next day. The next day we hiked to the railroad station and embarked รก la box car for Messac, a small town in France...
...We remained at Messac about a week, when we started on a hike of thirty-two kilometers (which was accomplished in two days) to Camp Cöetquidan, an artillery training camp. This camp was said to have been used by Napoleon and certainly gave evidence of its antiquity. But hopes and prices soared everywhere we went, as each move meant one step nearer to active combat and one less chance for the mercantile population. Camp Hospital No. 15 was located at this place and a detail of helpers was soon requisitioned from our organization. Here they helped with all manner of cases from acute diseases to convalescents from the front. The detail remained here until the brigade had finished their training and was ready to proceed to the front....
...Our detachment was divided into three parts from this time until the armistice was signed. We detrained and went into billets near Rimaucourt. The headquarters section was located at Orquevaux, the first battalion at Manois and the second battalion at Humberville. We remained here a few days and then proceeded to Domgermain, near Toul, where an advance ordnance dump was located, and turned in all surplus equipment. From this place we proceeded on foot to the active front via Toul, Lagney and Essey. The night before the battalions went into firing positions we stopped in the Bois de Mort Mare, arriving there just before midnight. The woods were dark and a light rain was falling but invisibility was necessary, so by morning all animals, wagons, guns, etc., were well hidden beneath the trees or covered with brush. The following night the regiment went into position. Regimental headquarters were established at Bouillionville, the first battalion near Thiaucourt and the second battalion near Beney, the Medical personnel for the above-named units establishing stations at the same places. We remained in these districts until after the armistice.....on November 13th we hiked to Pont-a-Mousson....the remainder of our time...passed in rest and training.
329th Band
With the transfer of Sergeant Olin R. Kelsey from the 18th Field Artillery, Fort Bliss, Texas, to the newly organized 329th Field Artillery, we have the beginning of the band. Like all new organizations the band had its many troubles. On September 19, 1917, Lewis Arnold and on September 22, 1917, Douglas. J. Merwin were assigned to the regiment. They, with Sergeant Kelsey, formed the first bugle corps of the regiment, playing guard-mounts and other military formations, using Sergeant Kelsey’s own compositions. They found many duties as all the calls of the day were blown by them. Later we will find that this was the nucleus of the band. Immediately the sergeant diligently set to work hunting for musicians. His efforts were quite successful as he found to his surprise about 70 men claiming to be musicians. A day was set early in October, and the men were given try-outs on their respective instruments. From this number Sergeant Kelsey chose the following men to be transferred to the Band Section.
Headquarters Company: Emil M. Kossel, Douglas J. Merwin,
Battery A: Lewis W. Arnold, Calvin W. Stewart, Edward Theiss, Myron Horowitz
Battery C: Allen R. Walsh
Battery D: Joseph M. Double
Battery F: Sherman Hanecki
Battery E: Guiatino Cerasi, Burr A. Doten, Joseph Kwiatek
It was a rainy, muddy and blustery day that the instruments were drawn and the first rehearsal held. Things went well considering the fact that it was the first time these men played together. It was not long before this band was massed with the bands at Camp Custer for the purpose of furnishing music at the formal dedication of the camp. The time came now when it was necessary to expand the camp.
This was done very rapidly and the regiment was moved to the west end of the cantonment and rehearsals were held in the barracks occupied by the Supply Company. Soon Building 1283 was completed and occupied by Headquarters Company. This was then to be the home of the band throughout the regiment’s stay in Camp Custer. November 7, 1917, marks the band’s coming into existence officially. On that date the musicians of the regiment were transferred to the band and were quartered with Headquarters Company. It was at this time that the bugle corps was being organized in the regiment to furnish field music for artillery formations . The bandsmen were now relieved from this former duty....
....In the month of November a divisional review was held on the division parade grounds. The bands of the 160th Field Artillery Brigade were massed for this review. The troops were reviewed by Major-General Joseph P. Dickman, then in command of the 85th Division. A similar review was held on the same parade ground by General Parker. The regiment had by this time increased in personnel so each regiment was reviewed as a unit. Here a great calamity befell the band as it was freezing weather—the instruments froze up and the band was unable to play the march as the general rode the line. Here the band gained fame when General Parker said "Start up your band!"....
...As time passed the personnel of the band increased....now and then playing at the Y. M. C. A. huts for entertainment.....On March 5th, just escaping a quarantine, part of the band toured the state of Michigan with other picked members of the division bands and played many concerts under the direction of Bohymir Kryll. This trip was a grand success and the cities of Lansing, Bay City, Saginaw, Port Huron, Detroit, Grand Rapids, Kalamazoo and Battle Creek royally entertained this grand band on this tour. Spring was soon on its way and new duties were again in store; playing for Liberty Loan drives at Detroit, Albion and smaller towns in Michigan....
...On the morning of July 16th the band left with the regiment, going to Camp Mills....July 30th, again taking trains for New York city, the band went to the docks where a boat awaited....
....August 27th the regiment reached Camp Coetquidan, near Guer, where much work was in store for it. Here the band played many concerts and found before it the solemn duty of many military funerals. It was there that the battle of Vinegar Hill was fought. Many of the fellows sustained minor injuries but soon were back on duty again. Corporal Hendricks was taken sick with the Spanish "flu," then so prevalent, and was sent to the hospital.
During the stay at Cöetquidan members of the band formed an orchestra. They played several programs at different places in the camp and also furnished entertainment at the dinner given in honor of Colonel Campbell by the officers of the 329th regiment. In all, the 329th Field Artillery orchestra was well known as a good entertainer. The following is the instrumentation: Solo, violin, Sgt. Skalski; 1st violin, Al W. Wenz; 2nd violin, S. Hanechi; viola, Sgt. Rath; bass, Joseph Kwiatek; oboe, cornets, Sgt. Merwin, Sgt. McCord; trombone, Allen W. Walsh; baritone, saxophone, Panfilio Salulo; piano, William Evans; drums and traps, C. W. Stewart.There were few musical duties from the departure from Cöetquidan till the time when the was would cease. The band played its last concert in open air at Orquevaux before starting for the front. The next journey was to Domgermain by train. This ended the musical duties for the band as the war zone had been reached. November 1st the orchestra instruments were packed and left at Lagney when the regiment left at 4:00 p.m.
The band being a non-combatant unit was not without work to do. The great traffic through the town left the streets in a very poor condition. Were they in need of a cleaning? The band was ready to do it. Also there was guard duty and even band men sometimes know their general orders. Many other details were done by the band while stationed at Bouillionville, but to spare time, space and feelings they are not mentioned here. November 11th came and with it the cessation of hostilities. The band of the 329th only stood around, or at least those on K. P., and listened to the music of the 55th Infantry band who were stationed in the same town. Music has never sounded so sweet as then, when the “Star Spangled Banner” pealed forth, in the feeling of freedom and victory. Then, as the band marched down the street to the powerful swing of “Stars and Stripes Forever” a great cheer from each American echoed through the town and everything was quiet. That was the spirit of victory as it came to those Americans at Bouillionville.
Two days later the regiment marched to Pont-a-Mousson, arriving there at 5:00 p.m., November 13, 1918. Once more the band took up the duties, playing many concerts and furnishing music for many entertainments. The band was very unfortunate in losing Geo. Gue who was sent to the hospital at Toul. Here Corp. Hendricks returned to the organization from a casual replacement camp.
Thanksgiving passed and soon Christmas came. Christmas in Pont-a-Mousson was a merry time for the organization. The orchestra furnished music for the entertainment, which was quite all that could be expected at such a place and at such a time. Beer, barrels of confetti, games, poems and presents of all kinds were the merry makings of the evening. New Years came and with it everyone was wondering when the regiment would leave for the good old U. S. A. January 10th the band left Pont-a-Mousson for Villerupt. The cities of Metz, Diedenhafen, Luxembourg and Esch Alzette were visited.
At Villerupt they were shown a royal time and their playing was highly commended. A week later they returned to Pont-a-Mousson to take up their regular duties once more. The saddest work of the band was at the funeral of their comrade Harry Koppert.
Keeping the Letter Job Smiling
It is tradition that public humorists are often private crabs. Undertakers often make model husbands. Ordinarily, by the same token, the man who passes out mail to palpitating thousands does it with a grouch and a sigh. A yellow letter, torn and dim, a letter is to him—and nothing more.
Our mail orderlies drew a different inspiration from their letter job., somehow; at least put a different spirit into it. They liked to dive in and haul out mail for The Boys—and thereby hangs a tale.
You know, this letter-writing and receiving proposition is one of the most remarkable servants of mankind. It has grown to be more than that: it is a power and an all-pervading influence. Far off in Longhorn, Texas, a gray-haired little lady works painfully on a letter to her son in France. He’s somewhere Over There—he couldn’t say just where—but this will reach him and tell him that mother’s with him of course. If only he’d write oftener himself! But the letter he gets brings cheer and comfort. His slow reply brings solace in spite of its bleak contents. Up in Illinois a tobacco worker puts her address into the blunt O.D. reply. Down in Mobile a colored lassie thrills at her Sambo’s account of capturing the kaiser. Letters! Letters! If the home folks knew how much theirs have meant to us! If we knew how welcome “Soldiers’ Mail” was to them—well, just another digression before we get back to the boys who handled the 329th mail.
A wreck of a town—4,000 miles from anywhere, as far as we’re concerned. Billets in an old schoolhouse. Night has fallen, leaving the place a black, shadow-ridden hull. A door opens and slams in the silence. “Mail!” comes the call that none can resist. There is a rush and a scramble. Hobnails hustle along hoary halls. Voices echo “Mail! Mail!” A light appears. Someone holds the lantern while we crowd around the man with the mail. It is a never-to-be-forgotten picture. The flickering light, the eager faces. There is a hum of anticipation, a thrill of expectancy. Then silence—a hush for the first name to be called. “Here!” booms out the jubilant answer. The crowd laughs, and the greatest of all army games is on. Maybe you win that night; maybe you lose, but there’s always the consolation. “Somewhere there’s beaucoup mail for me.”
And now for the talle we left hanging. Corporals George W. Cromer and H. J. Fillion have been our mail dispensers since Custer was a corn field. By the 22nd of September, 1917, they were established in regular P.O. fashion, and since then have collected and distributed mail in everything from a depot to a damp abri.
They set up in the rain at Fliery Woods. A boche aviator fired on Cromer while he was bicycling our mail between Bouillionville and Pannes. Fillion is said to have caught a German “dud” in a mail sack.
In the course of our travels they sorted unlimited bundles; figured out countless impossible addresses; stamped an average of 3,500 outgoing letters a week in France; redirected and rehandled much transfer mail; grew gray hairs trying to find the right A.P.O. to draw mail form; and answered ten million different questions—or rather the same one ten million times, “Is there any mail for me?”—with nary a kick or grumble.
Of course, said work was just their plain duty as we look at it in the army. As soldiers, they wouldn’t want any bouquets for duty done and we don’t propose to hand them any on that score. But we like the spirit they brought to their work. They took cheer for others out of mail bags and made friends with their own steady cheerfulness.
High, low, Jack and the General looked all alike to them when it came to courtesy. You might haunt their office with no other purpose than to wish for mail. But you were never met with a grouch or a clam. You might bother them with distraction inquiring after that letter which hadn’t had time to come. But if they felt any resentments they kept them to themselves.
In other words, they kept smiling and made us all feel better for it. Which in our opinion, is a real achievement on any job in the army, let alone on one that everyone considers his own particular business.
King Clean
A-Servin’ of His Majesty, King Clean
At ease, gentle reader, while we pass a well-known character in review. You won’t have to get up as he passes—as the only bars he has control of are those on the guard-house windows. Just take it from us, he’s a regular fellow, is Gilbert D. Crook, senior color sergeant of the regiment.
Crook is above al things a diplomat. He had to be on the provost sergeant’s work that fell his way. It was
Gil, get this,
Gil, get that;
And Gilbert, how’s the wood?
And how much would
A pris’ner cut
If pris’ners would cut wood?
Which might indicate that he figured in—and on—the wood proposition at home and abroad. He did. And that wasn’t all. He handled the manifold duties of provost sergeant with system and dispatch. In other words, he was featured in all the clean-ups our regiment knew—from the old days of making the artillery section at Custer look like an ad. for Spotless Town to the more recent days of general police duty everywhere. Figuratively speaking, Gil handled everything from garbage to hard-boiled prisoners and came out on top—with all parties satisfied. We’ve said he was a diplomat.
Which may also explain his knack for handling men—prisoners, to be more specific—without Bolshevism or loud language. Men who wouldn’t work for anything or G. H. Q. went along with Crook and did their bit. Lots of regular fellows get in the guardhouse, y’know, and he got results by treating them all “regular.” He could never play Simon Legree: he would be too apt to hand Uncle Tom a broom—and a smile—and pass on to see if Topsy had the kitchen policed up.
It may have struck you as strange that we referred to Crook as senior color sergeant of the regiment and then went on to recount his police activities. Well, it did us, too, until we learned that a color sergeant may be called upon for provost duty any time he is not busy tending the colors. Incessant moving Over There kept our colors furled until the last lap of our journey; hence his devotion to duty of another sort.
Had we been stationed in a garrison for any length of time, the reverent care that is given our national standard and regimental standard would have been his chief concern. He would have had to lower the flag each night at retreat—never letting the folds touch the ground. He would have carried the colors at reviews, as he did several times at Custer. He would have commanded the guard that escorts the Starry Banner on prescribed occasions. He would have belonged to his title.