14th. Somewhere in France. THANKSGIVING* ‘18
Tilly sur Meuse, France.
28th November, 1918.
DEAR ONES ALL
Here goes
my first letter since the Censorship loosened up and I’ll try to make it a
little Diary of my travel since I left
Camp
Merritt, New York, U.S.A. on that memorable morning of
May 7
th, 1918.
We had our
moving orders the night before, so were all packed up even to our blankets, but
were sleeping more or less fitfully under our overcoats when the clear notes of
Reveille roused us for the last time on American soil.
Soon we were eating our last mess there, and
then, just as the sun began to tint the east with rosy dawn, assembly blew, and
with shouldered packs and rifles we silently swung out through the mist on our
“March to the Sea.”
It was a night to be
long remembered as those long lines of silent men marched out through the
deserted streets of the sleeping camp, the only sound breaking the stillness,
the thud of marching feet, the metallic clang of rifle or bayonet, or the
muffled tones of occasional commands.
After a march of about six miles, MOST of it uphill, we came out on the
Palisades of the Hudson R. above
New York city.
Below us several hundred feet lay the little pier
of Alpine and how aptly named can only be appreciated by one who has made the
precipitous descent with packs and heavy marching equipment as we did.
 |
| This is a public domain photo of the USS George Washington that was taken off the coast of France in early May 1818. From timing of letters and photo, it is very likely that George was on this ship when the photo was taken. |
After a
short wait here, the
Newburgh (river boat) took
us for a cruise down the
Hudson
to the piers where we were immediately loaded on the U.S. S. George
Washington.
The last thing we did in the
States was eat a Red Cross Bun and drink a Red Cross coffee.
They say the way to a man’s heart is through
his stomach and I guess that is right as I have had a soft place in my heart
for that worthy institution ever since.
We lay in the harbor for a day, then all were ordered below and with
decks clear we were tugged out by the Statue of Liberty and the George
Washington started once more
[toward]
Sunny France.
For ten
days all we saw was water, water, water and the other ships of our convoy. There were only three of us till we got well
in to the danger zone, then we were picked up by some little torpedo boat
destroyers. The last morning out we were
wakened at four A.M. by the submarine siren and stood to at Abandon Ship
stations for about an hour while we put back out to sea a little way and the
destroyers did some hasty maneuvering but neither we nor the supposedly sighted
sub were hurt. Then about eleven A.M. we
sighted the most westerly point of France and sailed up the beautiful harbor of Brest.
We disembarked with the first of the lighters which came out to us at
about four P.M. of May 18th. We were
stationed at Pontanezen Barracks; about five
kilometers from Brest. These Barracks are supposed to be an old
convent made over to accommodate Napoleon’s troops. They are old stone Buildings and tho in fair
repair their appearance and the stone wall all around them seem to bear out the
statements regarding their age and history.
Here we first learned to think and speak in terms of kilometers and
francs, and to eat beans and goldfish (salmon).
After a
week in
Brest we entrained and after a trip of
two days on the odd little trains of
France
found ourselves in Oisemont, about 30 kilos northwest of
Amiens.
We only bivouacked there one night and then moved on to Avenes, where we
stayed three weeks while we got used to the sound of cannon, and were equipped
with British guns and gas masks.
The
first night we were there we were treated to a real Hun air raid.
As I was still orderly at that time I was
billeted in the Chateau Avenes, my first introduction to a real French chateau.
From there we hiked to Araines where we
entrained and went some 30 kilos to Poulainville
.
Got there about noon and by night were in our
shelter tents in Pierrigot.
Our camp was
in a grassy orchard and was nice and clean for about three days, then it began
to rain and we soon learned to appreciate what we had read of the
Somme mud.
We also
learned our first lessons of experience with shells and bombs.
This was supposed to be a training period for
our Div (the 33
rd), but it would be hard to tell it from a regular
campaign.
At the end of this period we
were brot together as a Regiment at Quarian Woods, about ten kilos from
Amiens.
During our stay with the British the work of
the lines companies was mostly done on and back of the line from Albert
toward
Amiens.
While we were there I made arrangements to
quit work with the Major as I could see nothing in it, and hoped to really get
into a little more by getting away from the stables and horses for while.
I might stop here to say that I saw such
towns as Villers Bocage, Beaucourt, Contay, Vignacourt and last but not least
Amiens (Cathedral
and all)
while we were in this sector.
We
entrained at
Amiens on August 25
th
and the next morning found us just passing through the outskirts of
Paris.
That afternoon we ran into the Chateau Thierry
district , through the town itself and out along the river beyond where such
fierce fighting had been done a couple of weeks before.
The towns and villages we saw and passed
through that afternoon were total wrecks, the stark crumbled walls of churches
and homes bearing eloquently mute testimony regarding the ruthlessness of the
War Gods.
At two A.M. we arrived at our
destination at Ligny where we at once unloaded. I saddled the horses and at 4
A.M. we moved out of town in formation.
Not much like the ponderous moves we used to make in our training days
in the States.
I shall never forget that
morning when we entered the sleeping little town of Ménil sur Saulk [
Saulx].
I was sent on ahead on my horse to look up
the billeting officer we had sent on the day before.
I had lost my cap from the train so was
compelled to wear my steel helmet, and with a knapsack of the Major’s equipment
slung at my side, raincoat partially hiding the identity of my uniform, and
spurs on my feet, I probably cut quite a warlike figure.
Anyway that is the only reason I can imagine
for the look of amazement I created on the countenance of the first simple
French woman I roused in the town.
You
see it was just breaking day as I rode into the village and even the
ever-present M.P. was not in evidence, as we were the first American Troops to
billet in that town.
So I rode up to the
door of the only house showing a light and knocked loudly.
The face of a woman showed for an instant at
the window then was as hastily withdrawn and the light extinguished.
But in that fleeting glance I had seen such a
mixture of incredulous amazement and fear that I thot then, and have still an
idea, she took me for a German Uhlan
as
I stood there holding my horse in the uncertain light of dawn.
AT any rate I got no more response tho I
knocked loud and long again.
So I
mounted my trusty steed again and did a Paul Revere down the cobble paved
street, across the quaint old bridge to the other side of town where I got a
surprise.
I saw a fairly elderly man
walking in the street just as I crossed the bridge, so I rode up to him and
said in my badly mutilated French, “Bon Zwar, Monsieur. Parlez vous
Anglais.”
What was my surprise when he
replied, “Nein, aber Deutsch.”
I had
tried a few times to talk to some of the French in German before but had long
since given it up as the language was so very unpopular.
This is the only time I have used it to any
advantage since I landed but I got along famously as the man’s vocabulary
seemed to be almost as limited as mine.
At any rate I was able to get what little information he had to offer
and by ten A.M. our Battalion was all in the village and comfortably
billeted.
Being the first Americans in
the town we were quite popular while there.
In less than a week we moved to an adjoining town known as Stainville
where we staid four days and where I gave up my work as orderly for the Major.
I celebrated my return to the ranks of Hdqts. Co. by working all day as runner,
then rolling my pack and
hiking full
equipment to our next stop at Gary (or Gery) a distance of about 18 miles.
That is the longest and the hardest hike of
my army career and I’m satisfied to let it hold first place for the rest of my
life, tho I believe I could do a few better if I knew every step was taking me
HOME.
A few days at Gery, then a short hike one evening
and we loaded on a French Truck Train and after an all night ride of some sixty
kilos we landed at Blercourt, and marched back to Nixeville Wood and billeted
in some French Barracks where the size of the cooties was exceeded only by
their appetites. The accepted my
unwilling hospitality forthwith and have been very faithful ever since in spite
of repeated hints and rebuffs. As soon
as our stock and transport caught up with us we moved to Sivry-la-Perche where
we had our headquarters for about a week.
While there we were shelled two night s in earnest. Then we moved to Ft. de Sartelles for about a
week. All three of the last named places
are within 12 kilometers of VERDUN. The line Cos. had now been in the lines for
two weeks and rumors of a drive in the sector they had just taken over from the
French north of Verdun
on the Meuse R. were prevalent. There
were batteries of artillery in the woods on all sides of us and three 12” Naval
Guns mounted on the railroad in the back of us were all ready for action. On the morning of Sept. 26 we were awakened
in our dugouts by what felt like a young earth-quake, and from the steady roar
and tremble of the ground knew that the guns had opened up the barrage for the
drive that was destined to liberate the hills of Verdun from the Huns. I was Regt. runner that day and believe me
the suspense was fierce, wondering how they were getting along up at the line,
wishing I might be there. The smaller
batteries of the Fort and in the woods near and far kept up a deafening roar,
punctuated occasionally by the bellow of the 12 inch Navals back of us, or a
Jerry shell at long intervals. The
letter you got from me dated Sept 26 was written while the barrage was going on
and the first step of that momentous drive was drawing to a close some ten
kilometers north-east of where I sat writing between runs. That afternoon the order came for every
available man in Headquarters to go up to the front and help in the emergency
so we were loaded into trucks, and up we went to Cumiers. I was in the village 10 min before I knew it
was a village which is eloquent proof of what was left of it.
The two
weeks we spent up there were the pleasantest I have spent in France for tho we
were only operating an engineer dump and working on the roads it was a mans
size job and we were making it possible for our infantry to hold what they had
gained and prepare to drive Jerry still farther back out of the hills where the
French had striven so hard for the last three years.
Well, the next move was back to Germonville,
where I worked as telephone orderly and runner until we moved out of the lines,
through
Verdun to
Dugney.
After a few days there we moved
down there and the line Cos. moved up into the lines in sight of the
Metz.
Things were just promising to get interesting
down in this sector when Kaiser Bill Capitualted and Marshal Foch
was able to make a peaceful entrée into delivered Metz, instead of the warlike
one that was inevitable soon.
If you
cannot find the name of this village on the map just follow the Meuse R down
about 20 kilometers and you will have pretty closet t our present location.
There is
little doubt that the war is over as the terms of the Armistice make it suicide
for Germany to make a false move, so now we will try to be good soldiers and
patiently do the hardest part of all – wait until the victory won at so much
sacrifice on both sides of the pond is secured beyond shadow of doubt for all
time. Then how happily will we return to
you all and those civilian pursuits we temporarily laid down that the right to
follow them might be preserved, not only to the States but to the World. So hurry up and prepare the “fatted
calf.”
With love
and hope for a speedy return to God’s Country and our loved Ones.
George
S. Sherwood
Pvt.
1/Class
Censored
WmAPeterson
CaptUSA
The Battle of Château-Thierry was fought
on July 18, 1918 and was one of the first actions involving the United States American
Expeditionary Force (AEF) under General John J. "Black Jack" Pershing.
It was a battle in World War I as part of the Second Battle of the Marne, initially prompted by a German offensive launched
on July 15 against the newest troops on the front, the American AEF. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Ch%C3%A2teau-Thierry_(1918)
Ferdinand Foch (Breton
pronounced "Fosh"). OM
GCB (2 October 1851 – 20 March
1929) was a French
soldier, military theorist, and writer credited with possessing "the most
original and subtle mind in the French army"
in the early 20th century.[1] He served as general in the French army during World War I
and was made Marshal of France in its final year, 1918.
Shortly after the start of the Spring
Offensive, Germany's final attempt to win the war, Foch was chosen as
supreme commander of the Allied armies, a position that he held until
11 November 1918, when he accepted the German request for an armistice. He advocated peace terms that would make Germany unable to ever pose a threat to France again.
His words after the Treaty of Versailles, "This is not a
peace. It is an armistice for 20 years" would prove prophetic. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferdinand_Foch
