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

After a hot, tiresome wait in the dock shed we loaded on to the U.S.S. Harvard which safely transported us over the most dangerous part of our journey. When we looked out the next morning Le Havre was in sight. We unloaded there and marched about a dozen kilos, more or less, to Rest Camp No. 1. This camp was on the highest point of ground in the neighborhood apparently, as we always went up and never down. It certainly was some job getting there under full pack.

The following day at about 3:00 o’clock we left this camp and hiked back through town to the railroad station where we loaded into French box cars–the "40 Hommes or 8 Chevaux" kind we’d read about. Running on schedule seemed to be something foreign to French railroads, hence a delay of five hours in starting worried them not at all, but at last we were all set (rather part sitting and part standing) and left for a training camp "Somewhere in France." After two days in the cars, during which time we became most intimately acquainted with Corn Willy and canned tomatoes and learned how to sleep on the installment plan, we arrived at a little village in Brittany called Messac. There we were billeted for the next ten days, during which time we had our full quota of close order drill. In addition to this there were classes in signaling, fire control and gunnery which kept us busy until the time came to go into the artillery training camp at Cöetquidan. We then made our packs and started hoofing it once more. That noon we reached MaurP, 13 kilos distant, pitched pup tents and slept like logs until morning, when we started the journey again, arriving at Camp Cöetquidan around noon.

Upon arrival we were assigned to Napoleonic barracks with concrete and dirt floors. The first night or two in them were anything but "downy" ones. A week or so was spent in continuation of the training started at Messac. Then we drew a battery of French 75's and our real training began. We found that much of the training received in Custer was quite different from the French drill regulation, consequently drills and more drills were the order of the day. Twice a week we went on the range for practice in firing signaling, fire control, and camouflage.

September 17th, 1918, will always be remembered as a red letter day in this period of our training. The battery was on the range for firing practice and No.1 gun had been loaded with high explosive shell. The order was given to fire. There was a queer flash at the breech and immediately we sensed that something had gone wrong. It seemed hard to grasp for a second that about two feet of the tube–from the breech forward–had been blown to smithereens. But Corporal Webber, who was gunner, was lying on the ground where he had been thrown by the force of the explosion. Johnson, who was No. 1, was staggering away dazed. Investigation showed that fragments of the tube had gone clear through the caisson wall, tearing several holes in live shells. Nothing short of a miracle kept the whole place from blowing up. Some of the boys recall most vividly the sight of the torn-free breech block rolling back in the dirt. Chief of Section McCarty hurried to Corporal Webber’s aid and found he had been but slightly wounded in the arm by a shell fragment. Johnson suffered nothing worse than a bruised leg. Thanks to "B" Battery’s guardian angel, no other member of the gun crew was injured, although all of them felt the force of the explosion. Collello was No. 2 on this gun crew, Beck was No. 3, Steinke No. 4, and Thackham No. 5.

Shortly we drew more horses–not horses like we had in Custer but old battle-scarred veterans. They did not look so nice but they knew their business which was much more important.

To relieve the tension of training some of the boys used to make occasional trips to Vinegar Hill where they partook of the bottled sunshine of "Sunny France." The night before we went out on the range for regimental firing problem, Bustance went over the hill and while there drank well but not wisely of vin rouge. He was one of the battery drivers and when he got back to the barracks someone asked him what he had done with the "Finucan Valves" belonging to his harness.

Looking very serious, Bustance said that they had not been issued to him. Following fluent advice he went on a search all by himself. Finally, after being "finucanned" all over the regiment, he found the Captain who asked him if he was sick and advised him to go to bed.

While we were here we lost several of our men through sickness. Corporal Adams, Privates Kogelshatz and Swayne were sent to the hospital and did not rejoin the battery before we left France. Lieut. Fuller Gregson, who was the idol of Battery B, left us on a transfer to H.Q. Company. Private Smith was sent to the hospital and while there died of pneumonia. Smith was well liked in the battery and his "Going West" was mourned by all of us.