Sidney D. Light's WWI Diary, Postcards & Letters, 329th Battery Book Accounts

Most of us had a taste of the sensation of stepping on nothing and finally finding one’s self down in a shell hole or at the bottom of a trench. While the guns were being put into position it was quiet but just after the horses were sent back, both sides started a barrage. At this time Captain Frazier with his assistants were figuring firing data and it was tough sledding keeping their thoughts on the figures and not on the possibility of a Fritzie shell having their name on it. The next morning brought strange and wonderful tales to the remainder of the battery stationed in the woods. One of the horses was reported to have "gone west," either from gas, overwork or heart failure. The firing battery was reported to have been badly gassed and various other calamities were presumed to have occurred, but fortunately everything was O.K. By the next night the gun crews were fairly well set.

The men who were left in the woods acted each night as ammunition carriers—under the command of Lieutenant Goble—and several times came closer to bursting shells than was calculated to be good for the health. Night after night the ammunition detail came up to the guns and were never heard to complain but they were glad to get back to Bouillionville where they had moved from the woods. Every day Corporal Tripp or Corporal Eagling guided up such men as were needed at the guns—camouflage men, telephone men, etc. Every afternoon Fritz would start putting over shells (mostly gas) and frequently our meals were interrupted by gas alarms. The part we played at this position was largely a waiting game which was a great deal harder than being actually engaged in firing, especially with big shells coming over from a distance out of our range.

The gas was the worst thing we had to content with and at first we were all very careful to get our masks on at the first hint of it. Tommy Dale well remembers the rainy day when he sat down by an open can of carbide, put on his gas mask and kept it one for an hour, thinking that acetylene gas was chlorine. About the softest job was Sergeant Ed. Davey’s. Why, ALL he had to do was keep the blooming gas away and see that there were guards out day and night. Those guards of Ed’s were so darned good that we used to sleep with our gas masks on—sometimes.

At this time Dreyfus, Watling, "Pansy" Burns, Nowlen and the ex-Mayor of Jonesville, Deal, were on detached service doing telephone work at the first battalion headquarters. Chas. Herman’s first night at the valley was a corker. We were all in our bunks in an old German bunk-house half way up the hill. The big guns were sending over occasional messages to Fritz, each time shaking the hill. Herman was a little nervous but as the messages were going not coming, he felt reasonably safe, until Fritz began to return the compliment. We would lie there and listen to them whiz over our heads—a-t e-a-s-e—Rest! Soon they began to strike closer and one hit just near enough to throw gravel over our roof. Herman sat up quickly and bang! his head and the ceiling met. Herm was determined to move out but we finally persuaded him to stay in our hotel a while longer.

There is a story told of Sergeant Nate Balter that he was given to making the following remarks (kindly take into consideration that anything like a protracted period of work always rests heavily on Nate’s mind, making him not exactly responsible for what he said): "By golly, I don’t want this job. Never wanted to be sergeant. Going to get the Captain to bust me," etc., etc. Ritter took on some sort of commanding status, for as the shells began to drop around his piece he would say, "All right, boys, two steps to the left, for they will change their deflection that much on the next shot." And everyone would obey him even to Lieutenant Curtiss. Also as they were digging their gun in all were cheered by Rit’s pleasant remarks, "It’s all for our own good, boys." And the picks and shovels would move faster than ever. Ah! here comes a little German up the valley. No, we are wrong; it is only a pair of German boots with "Shorty" Kobel in them. Andie Neubecker with his faithful assistants, Withey, Hamel and Westrom, sure gave us some good meals considering the difficulties under which they worked. The machine gun crews, under Corporals Manchester and Barrett were active most of the time and fired on several enemy aircraft.

Slippery "Whitey" Larkins entirely on his own policed up a German machine gun and fired on an American plane luckily without damage. This same Whitey was the bug who found a boche 77 and came back for a team of horses to bring it in.

We almost neglected to state that it was Gustafson’s gun crew, on No. 4, that fired the first seventy-fiver for B.