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

After Christmas came the horses again; and for two weeks we stood to heel and groomed. We even went so far as to give them a bath and a nocturnal hair cut before the memorable trip to Domgermain when we darned near ruined them turning in the guns and equipment. About February 1st a reliable report came that we were soon to start for home. Pistols were kissed goodbye, so were the rubber boots and all surplus equipment was turned in. The horses were taken over for keeps to the 7th Division.

On February 11th all were aroused at an extra early hour by our old friend Colly playing that does-get-em-up tune of his. The night had been exceptionally chilly so shoes, overcoat and hat were about all the clothes necessary to put on. After roll call a few instructions were delivered which ran something like this: 1st. Fall out in five minutes with mess kits for breakfast. 2nd. After breakfast make up rolls. 3rd . Carry mattresses down-stairs, roll them tight and put in a pile with the rest. 4th. Pull fires and clean all stoves. 5th. Clean up all rooms. 6th. Fill canteens with WATER.

Bill’s breakfast was an exceptionally good one and the aforementioned duties were performed with a snap. We took all the stoves possible along with us, left by truck for Drieulard and immediately set up stoves for a long ramble in the box cars. It is reported that "Fat" Morrish was rather fearful the fuel in his car would not last out the journey. So, after some careful investigations he locates a car of what he thought was coal. He {scrouged} several bags of it—without a word from the M.P,s or the French officials—and was not elated when it turned out to be stone.

This trip was the most pleasant one we ever took in box cars in spite of snappy weather: and, after a two-day and two-night ride, we detrained at Besse-sur-Braye. Then we learned there was a nice hike ahead of us. Our packs were to be carried for us, so we made a long roll of your blankets, horseshoed them and made Ecorpain before midnight. Some of the boys with two suits of underwear on found this journey a trifle warm The rations we had brought along were next distributed and we were assigned to our billets—barn lofts or anything. The little village of Ecorpain (called by the boys Ache or Pain) is composed of about 500 souls and is one of the nicest, cleanest little villages that we were in in France. It is about 7 kilos from St. Calais and 28 kilos from Le Mans.

We remained here about five days, going through the usual routine of foot drills, etc., under the command of 1st Lieutenant Curtiss. Captain Frazier had not yet recovered sufficiently from his operation to be back with the battery. Lieutenant Ackert made a generous Town Major with the assistance of Sergeant "Blackie" Daw. Then we moved about 15 kilos to Sarge. 1st Lieutenant Sargent’s conducting speed was just to our liking on this trip. Sarge was a rather sleepy little village located on a railroad and bisected by a river. We all had pretty fair billets here and the French people were certainly nice to us. Thanks to Lieutenant Ackert a number of the men enjoyed French feather beds. In passing we must not forget the bath house which was operated gratis by our old friends, Withey, Alabam Shelton, and Charlie Haight.

It was here that our "Rag" Sergeant, Sid Light, the Saginaw Kid, came perilously near issuing a crop of cooties with some supplies he got. Bill’s adoption of a mess hall was free and easy here as we ate out under the sunny skies which generally rained. On Saturday March 1st we proceeded to St. Calais, billeted there over night and started on with the regiment the next morning for Nuille-le-Jolais. We passed everything on the road this trip, making the 23 kilos in jig time and A-1 shape. Hiking without packs was very nearly a treat. Major Lothrop was in charge of this whole trip, and he sure made it slide easy.

We made Camp D’Auvours, otherwise know as the Belgian Camp, shortly after noon and were quartered in fairly respectable barracks. This was the place where we got our first taste of eating on the fly (those four line mess halls were sure a wonder) and our first glimpse of decent weather. After sundry inspections, we left on the 9th for the Le Mans entraining camp, got a cup of bon hot chocolate and some cookies from the "Y" and entrained in the rain for Brest. The sight of American box cars gave us the idea that maybe we could sleep once in side-door Pullmans. But 53 men to a car brought on the same old nightmare of hobnails in your face, nether extremities over your chest and weighted drowsiness in your feet.