Remembering a Veteran: Colonel Troy H. Middleton, 4th Division, AEF

 

Colonel Troy H. Middleton at the End of WWI

As a Lieutenant General, Troy Middleton (1989-1976) was one of America's most successful commanders of the Second World War.  His army career had begun 35 years earlier when he enlisted in the Army as 20-year old private.  Within two years, Middleton had earned a commission and led troops on the Vera Cruz Expedition and the Mexican Border episode.  Then came the Great War during which he was promoted to full colonel, the youngest in the United States Army and Expeditionary Force. Much of his life was centered around  Louisiana and Louisiana State University (where he eventually became its president) and is well-remembered in the area.  In 2020, a newspaper in the Baton Rouge area published a long tribute to him covering his entire career.  Here are some selections covering his military service.

During World War I. . .  he commanded the First Battalion, 47th Infantry Regiment in the most important and decisive battle of the war late in 1918 — the Second Battle of the Marne. His men faced the battle-hardened Prussian Fourth Guard Division, which had just returned from a month’s rest, in a four-day battle where the fate of the war was at stake! Middleton’s men pushed the Germans back 12 miles, and the victory was won! From the Marne, Colonel Middleton led the 4th Division to attack the Germans near Verdun. His men broke through German defenses, pushing them back five miles. On October 11, 1918, he was given command of the 39th Infantry Regiment. Overnight he had to prepare to lead his men into enemy territory using a tactic called “marching fire,” where all of the troops constantly fire their weapons while moving through the woods. This caused the dug in Germans to surrender and Middleton’s men’s moved to the edge of the Meuse River. Then, as Colonel Middleton [now commander of the 47th Infantry of the 4th Division] was preparing to chase German defenders down the Moselle River, the Germans signed the surrender, and the war was over.   He also received the Army Distinguished Service Medal for his exemplary service.

Generals Eisenhower and Middleton

 Following World War I, Middleton served at the U.S. Army School of Infantry, the U.S. Army Command and General Staff School, the U.S. Army War College, and as commandant of cadets at LSU. He retired from the army in 1937 to become dean of administration and later comptroller and acting vice president at LSU. His tenure at LSU was fraught with difficulty, as Middleton became one of the key players in helping the university recover from a major scandal where nearly a million dollars had been embezzled.

Recalled to service in early 1942, upon American entry into World War II, Middleton became commanding general of the 45th Infantry Division during the Sicily and Salerno battles in Italy, and then in March 1944 moved up to command the VIII Corps. His leadership in Operation Cobra during the Battle of Normandy led to the capture of the important port city of Brest, France, and for his success he was awarded a second Distinguished Service Medal by General George Patton. 

President Middleton, Louisiana State University

His greatest World War II achievement, however, was in his decision to hold the important city of Bastogne, Belgium, during the Battle of the Bulge. Following this battle, and his corps' relentless push across Germany until reaching Czechoslovakia, he was recognized by both General Dwight D. Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, and Patton as being a corps commander of extraordinary abilities. Middleton logged 480 days in combat during World War II, more than any other American general officer. 

Baton Rouge National Cemetery

Retiring from the army again in 1945, Middleton returned to LSU and in 1951 was appointed to the university presidency, a position he held for 11 years, while continuing to serve the army in numerous consultative capacities. He resided in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, until his death in 1976 and was buried in Baton Rouge National Cemetery. 

Sources: Wikipedia; Central City News, 15 June 2020

SS Prince Charles: The First Successful Q-Ship

From: Q-SHIPS AND THEIR STORY by E. Keble Chatterton

Q-Ship of Similar Size to Prince Charles

Anti-submarine decoy vessels, Q-ships were equipped with concealed guns and torpedoes, and sometimes with false colors.  Many different types of vessels were used, mostly conversions, but some were special built.  One of these was the collier SS Prince Charles a  little vessel of only 373 tons. In peacetime she was commanded by her master, Mr. F. N. Maxwell, and  manned by five deckhands, two engineers, and two firemen. These men all volunteered for what was known to be a hazardous job and were accepted. In command was placed Lieutenant Mark Wardlaw, R.N., and with him went Lieutenant J. G. Spencer, R.N.R., and nine active-service ratings to man the guns and use the rifles. 

Prince Charles carried the weakest of armament—only a 3-pounder and a 6-pounder, with rifles forward and aft. Having completed her fitting out with great secrecy, the Prince Charles left Longhope in the evening of 21 July with orders to cruise on routes where submarines had recently been seen. Proceeding to the westward at her slow gait, she saw very few vessels until 24 July. It was just 6.:20 p.m., when, about ten miles W.N.W. of North Rona Island, she sighted a three-masted vessel with one funnel, apparently stopped. A quarter of an hour later she observed a submarine lying close to the steamer. Here was the steel fish Prince Charles was hoping to bait.

Uncovered Deck Gun on a Q-Ship

Pretending not to see the submarine, and keeping on her course like a real collier, Lieutenant Wardlaw’s ship jogged quietly along, but he was closing up his gun’s crews behind their screens and the mercantile crew were standing by ready to hoist out the ship’s boats when required. The German now started up his oil-engines and came on at full speed toward the Prince Charles. It had just gone seven o’clock and the submarine was 3 miles off. The collier had hoisted her color's and the enemy was about five points on the bow when a German shell came whizzing across. This fell 1,000 yards over. Lieutenant Wardlaw now stopped his engines, put his ship head on to the Atlantic swell, blew three blasts, and then ordered the crew to get the boats out, in order to simulate the movements of an ordinary merchant ship in the presence of an attacking submarine.

In the meantime the enemy was approaching rapidly and fired a second shot, which fell between the funnel and the foremast, but landed 50 yards over. When the range was down to 600 yards the enemy turned her broadside on to the collier and continued firing; and this was now the time for the Q-ship’s captain to make the big decision. Should he maintain his pretense and continue to receive punishment, with the possibility of losing ship and lives in the hope that the submarine would come nearer? Or should he reveal his identity and risk everything on the chance of winning all? This was always the critical moment when the Q-ship captain held in his judgment the whole fate of the fight, of the ship, and his men.

Lieutenant Wardlaw, seeing that the enemy could not be enticed to come any nearer, took the second alternative, and opened fire with his port guns. The effect of this on the German was remarkable and instantaneous; for her gun’s crew at once deserted the gun and darted down into the conning-tower. But whilst they were so doing, one of Prince Charles’s shells struck the submarine 20 feet abaft the conning-tower. The enemy then came round and showed her opposite broadside, having attempted to dive. She now began to rise again as the collier closed to 300 yards, and frequent hits were being scored by the British guns. By this time the surprised Germans had had more than enough, and were observed to be coming out of the conning-tower, whilst the submarine was settling down by the stern. Still the British fire continued, and when the submarine’s bows were a long way out of the water, she took a sudden plunge and disappeared. A large number of men were then seen swimming about, and the Prince Charles at once made every effort to pick them up, 15 officers and men being thus saved out of 33.

U-38, Sister Boat of U-36

So ended the career of U-36. She had left Heligoland on 19 July for a cruise of several weeks via the North Sea, and, up till the day of meeting with Prince Charles, had had a most successful time; for she had sunk eight trawlers and one steamer, and had stopped the Danish SS Louise when the Prince Charles came up. It was not until the submarine closed the latter that U-36 saw the Englishmen clearing away some tarpaulins on deck, and the next moment the Germans were under fire, and the captain gave orders to dive. By this time the submarine had been hit several times, and as she could not be saved, she was brought to the surface by blowing out her tanks. The crew then took to the sea, and the engineer officer opened the valves to sink her, and was the last to leave. Inside, the submarine was wrecked by Prince Charles’s shells and three men were killed, the accurate and rapid fire having immensely impressed the Germans. Thus the first Q-ship engagement had been everything that could be desired, and in spite of the submarine being armed with a 14-pounder and carrying seven torpedoes, the U-boat had been beaten in a fair fight. Lieutenant Mark Wardlaw received a DSO, two of the crew the DSM, and the sum of £1,000 was awarded to be divided among the mercantile crew.

A Brief Truce on the Eastern Front in 1914

Reported by Fritz Kreisler in Four Weeks in the Trenches

We were in the first days of September, and upon reaching the swamps near Grodeck, south of Lemberg, a determined stand was decided upon by our commanding general. It seemed the most propitious place for a formidable defense, there being only few roads through otherwise impassable swamps. On September sixth my battalion was ordered to take up a position commanding a defile which formed one of the possible approaches for the enemy. Here we awaited the Russians, and they were not long in coming. First they violently shelled our position and silenced one of our batteries. Finding their artillery fire did not draw any answer from our side, they attempted to storm our position by means of frontal infantry attacks, combined with occasional raids of Cossacks, which were always repulsed. Finally the Russian infantry succeeded in establishing a number of trenches, the one opposite us not more than five hundred yards away. It was the first time we had come in close touch with the Russians, almost within hailing distance, and with the aid of our field glasses we could occasionally even get a glimpse of their faces and recognize their features. We stayed four days opposite each other, neither side gaining a foot of ground.

A Russian Trench

It was there and then that I made a curious observation. After the second day we had almost grown to know each other. The Russians would laughingly call over to us, and the Austrians would answer. The salient feature of these three days' fighting was the extraordinary lack of hatred. In fact, it is astonishing how little actual hatred exists between fighting men. One fights fiercely and passionately, mass against mass, but as soon as the mass crystallizes itself into human individuals whose features one actually can recognize, hatred almost ceases. Of course, fighting continues, but somehow it loses its fierceness and takes more the form of a sport, each side being eager to get the best of the other. One still shoots at his opponent, but almost regrets when he sees him drop.

By the morning of the third day we knew nearly every member of the opposing trench, the favorite of my men being a giant red-bearded Russian whose constant pastime consisted in jumping like a Jack-in-the-box from the trench, crying over to us as he did so. He was frequently shot at, but never hit. Then he grew bolder, showing himself longer and longer, until finally he jumped out of the trench altogether, shouting to us wildly and waving his cap. His good-humored jollity and bravado appealed to our boys and none of them attempted to shoot at him while he presented such a splendid target. Finally one of our men, who did not want to be second in bravery, jumped out of the trench and presented himself in the full sunlight. Not one attempt was made to shoot at him either, and these two men began to gesticulate at each other, inviting each other to come nearer. All fighting had suddenly ceased, and both opposing parties were looking on, laughing like boys at play. Finally the Russian would draw a step nearer, and our man boldly advanced too. Then the Russians urged on their man with shouts and laughter, and he made a big leap forward, standing still, whereupon the Austrian also jumped forward, and so, step by step, they approached until they nearly touched each other. They had left their rifles behind, and we thought that they were going to indulge in a fist fight, all of us being sorry for our champion, for he was a small and insignificant-looking man who looked as if he could be crushed with one blow by his gigantic opponent. But lo, and behold! The big Russian held out his hand which held a package of tobacco and our Austrian, seizing the tobacco, grasped the hand of the Russian, and then reaching in his pocket produced a long Austrian cigar, which he ceremoniously presented to the Russian. It was indeed a funny sight to see the small, wiry, lean Austrian talking in exaggerated terms of politeness to the blond Russian giant, who listened gravely and attentively, as if he understood every word.

Artist Depiction of an Austrian Trench

By this time all precautions and even ideas of fighting had been forgotten, and we were surprised to find ourselves out of the shelter of our trenches and fully exposed to the Russians, who, in turn, leaned out of their own trenches and showed their heads in full. This unofficial truce had lasted about twenty minutes, and succeeded more in restoring good humor and joy of life among our soldiers than a trainload of provisions would have done. It was one of the incidents that helped to relieve the monotony of trench life and was heartily welcomed by all of us. The fighting, however, soon was resumed with all its earnestness and fierceness, but from this moment on a certain camaraderie was established between the two opposing trenches. Between skirmishes an unofficial truce would frequently be called for the purpose of removing the wounded. During these times when the stretcher-bearers were busy, no shot would be fired on either side

A Dozen Striking War Posters from Austria

 

Remembering Important Great War Historian Lyn Macdonald

 

Lynn Macdonald (1929-2021)

From Penguin Books

The historian Lyn Macdonald died on Monday 1 March. She was 91 years old, and is survived by her husband Ian, and children Aline, Alastair and Michael.

After leaving her job as a BBC Radio producer in 1973, Macdonald established a reputation as one of the most highly regarded historians of the First World War. In a largely male-dominated field, then as now, she stood out as a pioneering and distinctive female voice; in 2016, Antony Beevor said of her that “Lyn Macdonald’s books on the First World War set the standard for a generation”. Her superb chronicles of popular history were notable for their extensive use of eyewitness and survivor accounts, and she drew on oceans of contemporary letters and diaries as well as capturing the memories of a dwindling supply of veterans. In doing so, she cast a unique light on the experiences of the ordinary ‘Tommy’ in the wider context of the First World War, documenting the innocence of a lost generation and bringing to life the disillusionment, the questioning and the heroism of the men of the British Army. “My intention,” she said, “has been to tune in to the heartbeat of the experience of the people who lived through it.”

Her first book, They Called It Passchendaele, was an oral history of the 1917 Passchendaele campaign that gathered testimonies from over 600 participants to portray the human realities behind one of the most disastrous events in the history of warfare. She then wrote The Roses of No Man’s Land, a chronicle of the war from the neglected viewpoint of the casualties and the medical teams who struggled to save them. It later served as the inspiration for the memorable BBC drama, The Crimson Field; the director, Sarah Phelps, spoke of how the book “opened a door on to both the military nurses and also these girls who came from these Edwardian drawing rooms and were thrown into this extraordinary explosive and horrifying and exhilarating world.”

These books were followed by Somme, a history of the legendary and horrifying battle that has haunted the minds of succeeding generations; 1914, a vivid account of the first months of the war and winner of the 1987 Yorkshire Post Book of the Year Award; 1914-1918: Voices and Images of the Great War, an illuminating account of the many different aspects of the war; and 1915: The Death of Innocence, a brilliant evocation of the year that saw the terrible losses of Aubers Ridge, Loos, Neuve Chapelle, Ypres and Gallipoli. Her last book was To the Last Man: Spring 1918.

Building on more than two decades of research, Macdonald had the rare talent of conveying the poignancy and heroism of front-line soldiers’ experiences and describing what it was that enabled those who survived to get through it. Her stories were vivid, harrowing, sometimes terrifying – yet shot through with humor, immense courage, comradeship, high spirits and an astonishing spirit of resilience and hope.

Eleo Gordon, who was Macdonald’s editor at Viking for over two decades, said, “Lyn Macdonald was one of the best – a great BBC Radio presenter and interviewer of countless Old Soldiers (as she called them), whose remarkable memories grew into her books on the First World War. Her care and close attention drew out the innermost thoughts and memories of those soldiers’ experiences and influenced so many of today’s historians.

“For her last book, To the Last Man: Spring 1918 we decided to set off in a minibus for the Front, staying in local hotels, days out in the fields, finding old redoubts, overgrown trenches, you name it, with the evenings spent in a large huddle around Lyn as she recounted her wonderful stories of the old boys she had interviewed and a portrait of the past long gone. I will miss her but maybe now she will meet up with all her Old Soldiers.”

Also see our past reviews of her works:  

(To the Last Man. . .)               (1915. . .)

To Read Lyn Macdonald's Works:

In preparing this I article, I was disappointed to discover that most of the titles shown above are out of print and, surprisingly, only the 1915: Death of Innocence volume (which I proceeded to order) is available in the Kindle format. (Others may be found at Amazon.uk.) If you are still willing to shop for used books, you might start with the Amazon.com utility in our right-side column.  Good hunting, I promise you any effort you make to read her works will be well-rewarded. MH

Recommended: The Scrapbook of an American Army Nurse in the First World War

 

Nurse Edith MacDonald at Cape May, New Jersey,
two months before shipping out for France
with Base Hospital 115

By B.J.  Omanson
Presented in History and Lore of the Old World War

When Edith Lois MacDonald returned to her home in Columbus, Ohio, in the summer of 1919, after a ten-month stint of overseas service as a U.S. Army nurse with Base Hospital 115 in Vichy, France, she brought with her a sizeable collection of photographs ranging in size from 9 × 7" enlargements to tiny shots just 1.5 x 2.5". In addition, there was the usual stack of individual souvenir postcards and postcard booklets from Vichy and neighboring towns (Dijon, Digne, Monte Carlo, Nice), and an assortment of other paper ephemera acquired during her overseas service: a handwritten and signed note from King George to “Soldiers of the United States” welcoming them on their way through the British Isles to “…take your stand beside the armies of many nations now fighting in the Old World the great battle for human freedom…”; a formatted postcard sent by the A.E.F. to the folks back home, informing them that their daughter has arrived safe in France; a Special Order on onionskin paper granting Nurse MacDonald and her traveling companion, Nurse Elizabeth Payne, permission to visit Nice and the nearby Alps for one week in February of 1919; a foot-long itemized and illustrated receipt from Hotel Westminster in Nice, filled out on both sides; and a French Transport Order permitting Nurse Edith MacDonald to travel by train from Tour to Bordeaux (probably the first leg of her journey back to the States).

Hotel Ruhl in Vichy, home of Base Hospital 115

Upon arrival at Vichy it was found that the hospital was to be a part of what was known as a Hospital Center, which was the usual manner in which the hospitalization of the A. E. F. was handled. There were in Vichy when No. 115 arrived, two Base Hospitals, No. 1, from Bellevue Hospital, New York City, under the command of Major McKee, and No. 19, from Rochester, New York, under the command of Major, afterwards Lieutenant Colonel, John M. Swan. . . . .

Eye Clinic, Base Hospital 115

No. 115 was assigned to the Hotel Ruhl, a magnificent concrete building nine stories high, said to be the tallest building in France. The maximum capacity of this building was 1657 beds, and it was said to be one of the largest hospitals under one roof in the world. It had been occupied as a hospital by the French since August, 1914,, but was closed for a while, and had been reopened by Base Hospital No. 1 a short time before the arrival of No. 115. The building was in charge of Captain Thomas Atkins, of Base Hospital No. 1, and he remained in that capacity till No. 115 was ready to take charge, giving valuable and much appreciated assistance, and helping greatly in all matters concerning the transfer. The building was taken over by No. 115 on September 11th, with 822 patients in the wards.

By the opening of the Battle of the Argonne, the carrying capacity of Hotel Ruhl had been more than doubled, to a total of 1657 beds.

Army Nurses Lottie M. Mumbauer and
Lorena S. Ingraham

Continue exploring Nurse MacDonald's Scrapbook 

HERE

First Edition Book Covers for WWI Classics

 

The Rise of Joffre

In August 1914, General Joseph Joffre controlled the design and execution of French strategy. He had played a decisive role in shaping French strategy for the opening of the war. Before a 1919  Chamber of Deputies Commission, as well as in his memoirs, Joffre acknowledged his having kept secret his intentions from his political superiors, his subordinate commanders, and his staff. He defended having done so by arguing it was "impossible to fix a definite maneuver for execution a long time in advance." How did this one man come into almost total control of his nation's destiny.  General Robert Doughty tells the story.

Though the government and the Minister of War could have circumscribed Joffre's powers, 17 French political leaders did not demand before August 1914 that he reveal his strategic or operational intentions. Instead, they abided by the  relationship between political and military authorities spelled out in the October 1913 regulations on the operations of large units. Approved by a presidential decree and based on a report submitted by the Minister of War, the first paragraph of the regulations said:

The government, which has responsibility for the vital interests of the country, alone has the authority to fix the political objective of a war. If the struggle extends to several frontiers, it designates the principal adversary against which should be directed the greater part of the national forces. It consequently distributes the means of action and all types of resources and places them entirely at the disposition of the generals charged with being commanders-in-chief of the various theaters of operation.

On the very day that France ordered mobilization, Messimy—who again served as Minister of War during the first Rene Viviani government from 13 June until 26 August 1914—met with Joffre and discussed their relationship. They agreed, "The political direction of the war belongs properly to the government. The conduct of operations belongs exclusively to the commander-in-chief." Like the ministers who had preceded him, Messimy made no attempt to place strategy under the umbrella of the "political direction of the war" and instead left it with Joffre.

To his substantial authority over the French army Joffre added considerable experience in dealing with political leaders. Unlike most French officers, he often had dealt with civilian authorities as he climbed the ladder of success. After demonstrating in the colonies strong engineering and leadership skills, he returned to France and had an unusual sequence of assignments that enabled him to work smoothly with political leaders and avoid interference from them. One of the most significant of these was his service as Director of Engineers from 1904 to 1906, but he also commanded 6th Division (which had its headquarters in Paris) and then II Corps (located in Amiens, 100 km north of Paris). After being appointed Director of Rear Services in January 1910, he gained an  specially sophisticated understanding of logistics and railway transportation, an understanding that served him well in his victory on the Marne. He also gained a seat on the Superior Council of War and became the youngest member of that body.

Much like general officers in other countries who have served in national capitals and been responsible for important engineering, logistical, and transportation  activities, he developed skills and methods for working with political leaders that other senior officers did not possess.

French politicians, including those on the left, had a relatively high degree of confidence in him. Unlike general officers such as Castelnau, Ferdinand Foch, or Paul Pau, who were known for their conservative or Catholic views, he was known for his republican views, something he did little to affirm and nothing to disavow. Some officers referred to him as "the crab" not only because of his thick girth but also because he never moved to the right politically. Yet, he was never as vocal or open about his views as officers such as Maurice Sarrail, and he avoided public disagreements with political leaders. As he dealt with the leaders of the Third Republic, he rarely made unreasonable demands on them or ignored them, and he shrewdly avoided placing them in embarrassing circumstances by giving them impossible choices. This tactic reduced the chance of anyone interfering with or intruding upon his prerogatives.

Only after the heavy losses and failed offensives of 1914–16 did the political  leaders who had misread him recognize his strong will and independence, and  some eventually became his strongest critics. Messimy in particular regretted having elevated him to such a powerful position.

Armed with considerably more power than his predecessors and a crafty understanding of French politics, Joffre took advantage of the increasingly tense international situation and shaped French strategy to his liking. As he considered alternatives, he preferred an offensive strategy rather than a defensive one followed by an offensive. This preference stemmed partially from his personal faith in the offensive, a faith he would demonstrate again and again in the 29 months he commanded French forces in the Great War, but it also accorded with the sentiments of France's political leaders. At one key meeting, for example, in January 1912, the President of the Third Republic welcomed Joffre's emphasis on the offensive and said, "We are henceforth resolved to march straight at the enemy without any hesitation. The offense, which suits the temperament of our soldiers, shall assure us victory." Joffre's preference for the offensive also came from his recognition of the strategic advantages of the Franco-Russian alliance. He remained confident in the benefits of a two-front war against Germany, and the strategy he pursued in the opening days of the war—most notably the attack into Alsace-Lorraine-clearly fit within the context of coordinated offensives by French and Russian forces. 

[When war came] After concentrating the French army on the northeast frontier in the opening days of the war, he waited until after the Germans began their advance to complete the design of his strategy and did not fully inform his political superiors or his military subordinates until he published General Instructions No. 1 on 8 August.

As Joffre implemented his strategy, he complied with the provisions of the Franco-Russian alliance by attacking into Alsace and Lorraine, but he sent his main thrust through central Belgium toward Neufchateau and Arlon where he hoped to avoid the powerful enemy force driving toward his left and strike the enemy's less dense, more vulnerable center. French strategy in 1914 was Joffre's own. [And its failure was his.]

Source: "French Strategy in 1914: Joffre's Own," by Robert A. Doughty, The Journal of Military History, April 2003

AEF's 353rd Infantry in Stenay, France, on Armistice Day 1918

On the morning of 11 November news of the coming of the Armistice was well circulated within the AEF. Overnight, units of the 89th and 2nd divisions had been fighting their way across the Meuse River, presumably to gain the most advantageous position possible when the Armistice fixed the positions of the opposing forces. One well-fortified town in the section assigned to the 353rd Infantry of the 89th Division had not been attacked, since the troops had been unable to find a crossing of the river. Major General William Wright was not happy about this situation and ordered that the town be captured. He ordered the town taken, and and the attack was mounted mounted at 8 a.m., three hours before the Armistice. General Wright would later be criticized for the casualties taken by his division during the Meuse crossings of 10–11 November. However, fortuitously there were no casualties in the capture of Stenay, and the operation yielded on of the most famous photos (below) of the AEF. 

Company A, 353rd Infantry, 89th Division
At Stenay 1058 hrs, 11 November 1918

Here's an account of the assault from the history of the 353rd Infantry:

Local information indicated that the First Battalion must cross the Meuse and enter Stenay. German snipers and machine gunners were active and artillery threatened at all times. One dare not show himself outside the dugout in daylight on account of the snipers. A major and his orderly were lying at this moment down the road. They had been picked off that very afternoon. The bridges across the river had been blown up. A patrol attempting to cross the river was stopped by machine guns. They had left their leader and several dead on the banks. At this critical moment in the narration Captain Dahmke, followed by Major Blackinton, entered the dugout. Then came the news which the men had anticipated. The calm, steady voice of Major Blackinton threw a pall on all listeners as he said, "Your orders are to be in Stenay tonight."

It was hard to realize the possibility of accomplishing the mission under the conditions. The Germans occupied the city of Stenay and the high ground beyond. They were prepared to hold their positions with machine guns and artillery. Moreover, there was the river and the canal to be crossed and only one boat available. It had a carrying capacity of thirty men. On the east side of the Meuse the 90th Division was advancing from the south. They were to have taken Stenay on the 10th and to announce occupation with a rocket signal. Close observation revealed no signal, and their location was unknown. The First Battalion must drive across the river for Stenay.

Prewar Photo of Stenay Bridge Destroyed in 1918

Meanwhile the Second and Third Battalions were on their way to co-operate with the 90th Division troops on the east side of the Meuse river. The Second Battalion left Les Forgettes Chateau in the early evening, never to return. The march led over the high hill in the heart of Tailly Woods, through Montigny and Saulmury. Near Ville-franche the engineers had constructed a pontoon bridge. Lieutenant Melvin with a patrol from Company "G" was on ahead. It seemed impossible to get definite information regarding the location of the 90th Division troops, but the battalion must be in position to advance on Stenay in the morning.

Without a moment's hesitation the men moved across the bridge in single file. The meadows between the river and the canal, on the east bank of the Meuse, were stiff with a heavy hoar-frost. Movement was necessary to keep from freezing. Finally the battalion halted near the locks on the Meuse Canal about two kilometers southeast of Mouzay.

Location of Stenay

Lieutenant Melvin reported that the town of Mouzay was filled with gas and that he had been unable to gain contact with the 90th Division troops. Major Peatross, Lieutenant Melvin, and a few runners again went forward while the men fell out along the steep banks of the canal. Some officers and a little party of men tried to kindle a fire in the lock-keeper's house. Someone had left a newspaper here. It was two days old but it gave the terms of the armistice. Everyone fully expected that fighting would continue. At 4:30 a. m. march was resumed to Mouzay where it was learned that a strong patrol had been organized to enter Stenay. Its mission was to determine the strength of the forces holding the town. The patrol did not accomplish its mission and the 90th Division did not attack in the morning.

The Second Battalion took over the abandoned German billets and proceeded to forget about the war. But hardly were the men asleep when shells began to fall into the edge of the town. There were no orders to move and no one stirred. Presently word came from the 179th Brigade Headquarters of the 90th Division that the armistice was signed. Those who were asleep were not disturbed and those who were awake found a place to sleep. The men of the Second Battalion were so nearly "all in" that they must rest before they could realize the news.

The experience of the Third Battalion was quite similar to that of the Second. Up until 2 a. m. of November 11th the Third Battalion held positions in La Haie Woods near Beauclair. At that hour, orders were received to join the Second Battalion across the Meuse River in the advance on Stenay from the south.

German Prisoners Captured in the Assault

The march of the Third Battalion led over the flooded roads along the Wiseppe River. Dawn brought them to Wiseppe. The enemy had destroyed the bridge. It was necessary to improvise a crossing. Only one man could make his way at a time on the treacherous logs. At last the battalion reached the pontoon bridge at Ville-franche.

All was going satisfactorily until the mooring of the boats gave way. Several men fell into the cold, swift river. Difficulties could not be allowed to impede the progress. The bridge was hastily repaired and the Third Battalion followed the Second in the direction of Mouzay.

While sitting alongside the road an officer drove up and announced the news of the armistice, and gave orders to continue on to Stenay. The chief concern of the men now was to find a good place to rest.

During these hours, the officers of the First Battalion continued their efforts to find a way across the Meuse River. Lieutenant Driscoll and Lieutenant Connors had not reported back with their patrols at 3 a. m. Lieutenant Chalmer with Private Cadue was sent out. The light from a burning barrel of oil at the water's edge enabled him to locate Lieutenant Connors' patrol. No crossing could be found. When they returned Major Blackinton set out with Captain Dahmke to confirm the information of the patrols.

Lieutenant Hulen in command of "A" Company had posted sentries under cover to make observations. At nine o'clock Lieutenant Chalmer reported back that a crossing could be effected.

After the Armistice, with French Civilians

The high, embanked road leading over to Stenay had been blown out in no less than eight places, and the bridges over the river, canal, and mill-race were destroyed. Some engineers had been trying to estimate the possibilities of a crossing, but were driven away by enemy shrapnel. On the basis of this information, Company "A" was ordered to cross the river. Lieutenant Connors was to lead with the patrol, Lieutenant Chalmer was to follow with his platoon in fifteen minutes and prepare crossings. It was now 9:30 a. m.

A heavy fog hung close to the surface. Nothing was visible but the broad expanse of the water which disappeared in the haze a few yards out from the shore. Every man wished he could look beyond. Surely the enemy was waiting to open fire at the first appearance of advancing troops. But this fog that had been so disagreeable served effectively as a screen for our activities.

Nearer approach to the road showed mysterious rows of sticks driven in the ground parallel to the water's edge and at right angles to the road. These sticks stood some seven or eight feet high. Wisps of vegetation were tied about two feet from the top. Their use was apparent. Machine gunners knew the range to these sticks. They knew the intervals between the poles and could control their field of fire from right to left without being called upon to estimate it. Quietly and patiently the men worked their way forward. The gaps which had been blown in the embanked road were from fifteen to thirty feet across. Water rushed through the openings below. It was necessary to make a steep descent on one side, pass over the debris in the bottom, and then make the steep ascent on the other side to continue toward Stenay. After crossing five of these gaps, the bridge which spanned the Meuse loomed into view. One long girder lay suspended from its base on one side across the gap. Just beyond was the bank of the canal, covered with wire entanglements. The bridge across the canal was out, but fifty yards above lay the ruins of the lock-gates which afforded a passage. The mill-race was still to be crossed. Its bridge was completely down. Heavy timbers were soon adjusted into a foot-log. Only one man could cross at a time, but in the event of shelling this formation was highly desirable.

The thought of machine gun fire was oppressive. On the battlefield there was a chance of flanking the enemy but here the men were at the mercy of the enemy. We could do nothing but move ahead. Safely across, the patrols reported that they were ready to leave. Lieutenant Hulen with the slightest trace of a smile on his worn face said, "It is reported that there will be no firing after eleven o'clock, but don't throw away your equipment!"

At ten o'clock Lieutenant Connors reported the occupation of Stenay in the following brief message:

"Private Gielow defeated for mayor of Stenay by three votes."

View Today from the Rebuilt Meuse Bridge

He immediately set about getting the French civilians out of their cellars and rounding up the few Germans who remained behind. The town was still being bombarded in the southern section, but the patrols met no resistance in their operation.

At 10:30 a patrol from the 90th Division entered the town from the south. Lieutenant Connors notified its leader, a Lieutenant Quinn, that the town of Stenay was in the possession of the First Battalion, 353rd Infantry, 89th Division. Before 11 a. m., Armistice hour, all of Company "A" had made their way across and a line of outposts was established on the heights above the town. There were no casualties, but the mental strain and physical exertion had been terrific. The men of the First Battalion had earned the right to the good billets of Stenay for their regiment.

America's Spruce Squadrons

 

The Sitka Spruce Can Grow to Over 300 Feet Tall
and 15 Feet in Diameter

By James Patton

The Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis) is a coniferous evergreen tree native to the coastal forests between Oregon and Alaska. A hardy species, it can grow in many other ecosystems but usually not nearly as large as in their native range, where they can grow to over 300 feet high, with a trunk diameter exceeding 15 feet, making them by far the largest species of spruce. The wood is widely used for pianos, harps, violins, and guitars, as its high strength-to-weight ratio and regular, knot-free rings make it an excellent conductor of sound. All quality pianos have soundboards made of Sitka spruce. During WWI, these attributes plus the long, tough fibers that don’t splinter even when struck by bullets, made it the essential material for aircraft wing spars. 

From the onset of the war the lumber industry in the Pacific Northwest was the key supplier to the Allies of Sitka spruce, even though the stingy pay and dangerous conditions in the logging operations spawned violent unionization efforts, and strikes were frequent. Coupled with the lumber industry’s preference for other species that were preferred as building materials, the availability of Sitka Spruce varied widely.  After the U.S. declared war in 1917, the logging industry lost workers to the army, the labor strife intensified, and the supply further declined to about 2 million board feet per year. With the U.S. now planning to build its own aircraft, the War Department estimated that 10 million board feet per year would be needed. 

Accordingly, a former army captain named Brice Disque was hired to evaluate the situation and recommend how to obtain the needed production. Disque spent a couple of months touring and interviewing. His final report concluded that the army would have to reorganize and operate the whole industry itself. 

Soldier tallying planks at Vancouver

So on 29 September 1917 Disque was returned to active duty as a lieutenant colonel and placed in charge of developing the plans for the army take-over. Subsequently, on 6 November, the new Spruce Production Division (SPD) was created as a part of the U.S. Signal Corps’ Aviation Section. Disque was promoted to colonel and placed in command of the SPD. His headquarters were established in downtown Portland, Oregon, where several floors of the new 15-story Yeon Building were requisitioned. The main site for induction, training, and operations was set up at the Vancouver Barracks, the army base in Washington near Portland.  

An early obstacle to overcome was the union question. The rather notorious Industrial Workers of the World was striving to represent the entire workforce. Unionizing soldiers seemed to be  totally out of the question, but a Portland lawyer named Maurice Crumpacker proposed a devious solution—the SPD would form a company union, also known as a "yellow union" (a practice banned by the Wagner Act in 1935). Crumpacker was made the head of the new Loyal Legion of Loggers and Lumbermen, or the “4Ls” which actually continued in existence until 1939, long after Crumpacker left; he was elected to Congress in 1924.  The logging companies and mills were required to negotiate with the 4Ls, which set wage rates higher than previously paid and implemented minimum requirements for work hours, lodging, and food, which in most cases exceeded anything seen before in the woods or mills. About 125,000 men were enrolled in the 4Ls. 

The SPD was initially authorized 10,317 officers and men. They signed up several thousand loggers and mill workers, although this often required a waiver because many of these men were over 40. Some of the draftees assigned had been classified at induction as "Limited Service," and the rest of the contingent was filled by assigning soldiers and officers who had volunteered for the Air Service. As production ramped up it became apparent that many more men were needed so the authorization was upped, reaching 28,825 in May 1918. 

Portland Headquarters Today

The officers and soldiers were assigned to various work duties. Each crew was designated as a squadron (this was the Air Service) and eventually there were 149 of them, ranging in size from 35 men to over 300. Most of these squadrons were assigned to lumber camps and sawmills. Most of these facilities belonged to private lumber companies although the SPD built some as well. The army men worked side by side with civilians in the forests and mills, and all were paid the same. 

Other squadrons were assigned to construction duty, building, and maintaining infrastructure including saw mills, housing camps, roads, and even railroads in the forests. The SPD also procured heavy-duty trucks. These improvements made it possible to access many stands of spruce that had been passed over by the lumber companies as too expensive to harvest.

 The SPD also built a "cut-up" plant at Vancouver, where several squadrons were assigned to process the lumber into actual airplane parts. This was an improvement as previously the wood was delivered in large lengths and the aircraft factory had to cut their parts themselves. 

To further insure protection from labor strife, a group of squadrons were assigned to protect the infrastructure from damage or sabotage, to expel agitators, to suppress strikes, and also to fight forest fires. These men were armed with .30-.30 Winchester 94 carbines, a very popular civilian model, rather than army rifles, which alleviated the need for the army to supply the ammunition. 

Mixed Civilian-Military Crew Handling a Log Section

By November 1918, about 28,000 soldiers were stationed in the Pacific Northwest, working with about 100,000 civilians. About 20,000 soldiers were engaged in logging, construction, and mill work in the field (in about 235 camps) with the civilian lumbermen. Another 4,000 worked at the cut-up plant in Vancouver. Finally, an additional 4,000 men were permanently located at Vancouver Barracks, to help with administrative and support structure plus the security force. 

The SPD produced over 143 million board feet of Sitka spruce wood as well as other woods needed for ship construction in just 15 months, halting work almost immediately after the Armistice, and all of the military personnel were promptly discharged. Wherever possible, SPD property was shipped back to Vancouver and auctioned off at bargain prices. Anything that couldn’t be moved was abandoned to the logging companies and mill owners.

The SPD had a large and lasting impact on logging in the region. The companies adopted working conditions similar to those of the SPD, and they took great advantage of the new sawmills plus the logging roads and rail lines that the SPD had built to access more timber.

Four L's Insignia

Shortly after the Armistice, Disque, who was by then a brigadier general, was accused by members of Congress of wasting taxpayer’s money, especially on a $4 million railroad built on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington, but those allegations were never substantiated. In March 1919 Disque left the army and the lumber industry. 

Sources include Bob Swanson’s definitive Spruce Squadrons website:

http://www.swansongrp.com/spruce.html