As he lowered the coat, his hands holding the collar at his cheeks, my wits became somewhat normal again. "You idiot!" I said to myself. "You've got a revolver in your right hand."

Sharply I brought the muzzle against his left breast and fired twice. Then, crooking my elbow, I reached down, sunk the muzzle into the back of the man under me, and again fired twice. I recall spreading my legs for fear of injuring myself. His body crumpled under me.

The first one had fallen backward, supported by the side of the funk hole. His hands seemed to be reaching blindly for something in his belt now. Both their rifles lay extended over the little parapet. He might be trying to get at his trench knife. So I fired again, and without waiting to see the effect of the shot, sprang up and ran wildly down the slope.

My breath was coming in gasps. I thought it was all up, for the whole camp—a bivouac of a company it surely was—went into an uproar of shouts and shots and flashes.

"Amerikaner!" I heard several times.

I don't know how far I ran. Not far. For I was expecting to be hit at any moment. Again I found a low-growing bush. And again half-anticipating finding myself with the enemy, I sprawled in under it. My breath was burning my throat. I was horribly thirsty. And my heart was pounding like a pile driver—and every bit as loud.

Little by little I squirmed in under the branches. Voices came from half a dozen directions. Some were drawing toward me. About fifteen yards to my right front, shots came steadily from what I knew to be another funk hole. I thought of the shiny hobnails on the runners' boots, and drew my legs up closer. My watch gleamed like a group of flares, and I twisted its face to the under side of my wrist.

The voices were very close now. It seemed to be a little party, beating the bushes for me. I saw one fellow's head and shoulders against the sky line. My first thought was of my gun. I knew there was but a single cartridge left. Softly I opened the clips on my cartridge pouch and reloaded.

I didn't like lying face down. It was too inviting to a shot in the back. I wanted to roll over and be prepared when they came upon me, to sit up into some sort of firing position. But my white face (and I'll wager it was unwontedly white!) might show up in the dark. So I clawed my fingers into the ground in the hope that I could apply some camouflage in the form of mud. But mud is perverse; it lies yards deep when you don't want it, and is miles away when you do. The ground was wet enough from the rains—so was I, for that matter!—but with spongy, dead leaves. I tried smearing some over the backs of my hands, but when I extended one to get the effect it was as lily-white as milady's; whereat I hastily tucked it back under my gas mask, worn at the "alert" upon my chest.

The searchers, meantime, were snaking around among the bushes. Their conversation was as audible as it was meaningless to me—now to my left, next close up, then withdrawing to my right.

All this time the "li'l .45" was ready if they got so near that discovery would be inevitable. I hadn't given up hope by any means, but I did let myself picture several boches taking my maps and message books (one of them full of carbon copies) into some dugout. Such odd little thoughts as how long it would take them to find a boche who could read English occurred to me. And from that I was whisked back to a Forty-second Street barber whose English was excellent and who had told me of his service in the German army. Many such reservists must have returned to the Fatherland. I wondered, too, if, in the anticipated exchange of shots, having wounded me, they would kill me outright in reprisal for my killing their two comrades.

Oh, it was a cheerful line of speculation! I was deep in it when, above the regular shots of the fellow in the funk hole nearest me, came a rattle of pistol explosions some distance away. "One of the runners," I thought. "Hope he was as lucky as I." Munson told me later that he had run into a boche near a railway track and had dropped him.

The chap in the near-by funk hole began to amuse me now. He kept up his shots at fifteen-second intervals for half an hour. I'm inclined to believe those Jerries were more frightened than we. May have thought it was a surprise attack in force. This fellow, for instance, was firing, I knew, at nothing in the world but atmosphere. And in his own mind he may have been bumping off a lot of Yanks lying in wait for the word to charge at his front—wherever in blazes his front was!

I got to feeling rather snug about the nervousness of this outfit. And pride cometh also before a cough. After three days of intermittent rain, without overcoat, I had acquired a cold. And now my throat tickled and my nose itched, and I was headed straight for a healthy bark. I sunk my teeth around my forearm—the good one—and let go. It was pretty well smothered and attracted no attention, for the fellow with all the superfluous ammunition remained quiet.

Seemingly secure from discovery, I was in no great rush to decide on future plans. But some sort of campaign had to be laid out, for dawn was not many hours away. I think it was about two-thirty, and before light I had to be out of those environs, if ever I was to get out. But at the moment it would have been suicidal to move. The night had become so quiet that I hardly dared raise my head for fear the edge of the helmet would scrape against something. Once, when my head dropped from sleepiness, the helmet brought up against the muzzle of my gun. It sounded like the crack of Doomsday to me.

I studied my compass to prevent drowsing. I was satisfied that whatever way I crawled—farther away from or closer to more funk holes—it would be a matter of pure guesswork, so I determined to hit out south when move I did. The sky was sown with stars. As I looked at them I thought of all the untroubled people they were shining upon; saw the theatre crowds on Broadway. "Old stars," I thought, "I wonder if ever I'll see you again." And then smiled at myself for finding time to wax sentimental when practical matters should be engaging me! Next I deplored my luck that there should be stars at all on this night. Wind and rain were what I wanted. Under their cover I stood a fair chance at weaseling off.

A visual reconnoissance of the ground immediately in front of me to the south showed, within reach, the stump of a sapling. I couldn't see whether it had been cut by shell fire or for camouflage. Wriggling forward a few feet, I extended my arm outside the bush. It was too clean a cut for shell fire, my fingers told me. Nothing but a sharp ax had severed it so smoothly. Here was one spot I'd circuit before going south—if I would avoid "going west."

The night was wearing on, and I caught myself half dozing several times. I kept looking at my watch and telling myself that I mustn't—mustn't sleep. The rawness of early morning did much to keep me awake in my muddy, soggy clothes.

At about four o'clock I noticed that the stars were thinning out. If only it would rain! I will always believe that there was something miraculous about the way the heavens were swept clear of those stars, as if a great hand had gathered them in. For soon a wind came up that tossed the tree tops and bent even the bushes. And with it, within a few minutes, a heavy, lashing rain. Nothing could have better suited my purpose.

I reached up and snapped off a few branches. No danger now of being heard. The wind was kicking up a delightful rustling. The twigs I inserted under my collar, their leaves thus giving some covering to my face and breaking the line of my helmet.

Without loss of time I began crawling, taking care merely to keep low. As I left, a German voice was traveling along what I assumed to be the line of funk holes, yelling "Posten!" every few seconds. I figured that it was their "Stand to," or the relieving of a guard, for a little earlier there had been the regular tramp of feet—maybe two squads, from the sound—along a plank walk to my rear.

Machine guns were clattering away at their matins in several places in the woods, but I was leaving them farther and farther in my wake—the only wake of mine that I wanted them to attend. Once more it was the struggle with the forest; once more the difficulty of keeping my bearings, constantly watching the delicate compass. But breasting the wilderness didn't matter now. I was hungry and thirsty and so tired that it was a real effort to plow my feet through the undergrowth. But at least, I was done with boche voices.

Then I came to a path in the exact center of which was a shell crater nearly full of clay-colored water. I almost fell upon the hole reaching back for my canteen. But as I leaned toward it, a strong smell of mustard gas rose. And I went on!

I hadn't gone far along the path when somewhere a boche shouted something, but he was not very near and must have been calling to a comrade. I darted into the woods again, resolved to stay in them if I dropped some place for good. I was awfully tired, and to my surprise found myself staggering.

Over fallen trees I climbed, so high that at times I was well above the young saplings. Dawn was breaking now, and it was easier to preserve a sense of direction. I came to another crater. While I took the precaution to smell, I would have drunk, I believe, even had the water been gassed. My mouth was terribly parched. Already I had resorted to shaking the rain-wet young trees over my upturned face; I had even pressed their wet leaves against my tongue. Now I drank—drank till I could hold no more. The water was almost as filthy as Gunga Din's—but it was wonderful!

Broad day had come when I reached another such wide clearing as that of our dueling exploit. I was timid of taking it, but it ran south; indeed, it may have been the same. The firing was faint behind me, and I decided to follow it. I was vexed because I could not quite control my steps. My gun was swinging listlessly in my hand, and for the first time in twenty-four hours I pushed it back into its holster.

Half an hour's going disclosed a broad road ahead. I was passing untenanted trenches. I heard voices ahead presently and sprang into the bushes at the side. Then I went ahead slowly, with ears keen. The voices grew more distinct; I caught syllables and—it was English, good old English!

I tumbled out and approached several Americans standing near a funk hole. I went up to one of them. He looked at me with some concern in his eyes.

"My God, but I'm glad to see you!" I said. They were of the Third Battalion, and my exclamation must have startled them, for, of course, I did not know them. "Tell me something in American," I added. My nerves were frayed, I guess, and my voice sounded curiously far-off.

"Is anything the matter, sir?" one of them asked.

"Nothing at all. I'm on my way back to regiment at Karlsruhe. Will this path take me?"

Then I learned that I had reached the Tirpitz trench, the reserve battalion's new position.

"Let me go back to the next runner post with you," said one, and made to take my arm. Which annoyed me, naturally.

The colonel was about to eat breakfast when I arrived at the fancy dugouts we had taken so many eons ago. I indicated my battalion's position on his map and told him the situation briefly.

Lieutenant McKeogh adds, "Relief was sent with ammunition and food on September 30, and on the following day the refreshed command started forward again—again to be cut off, this time for five days." The men in the battalion crouched in the rain and the cold in their shallow and hastily constructed trenches. The Germans kept a constant fire upon them from machine guns and attempted to reach them with their artillery, but fortunately they did not get the exact range.

There were machine-gun nests all about them and if a man showed himself ever so little or made any loud noise, he brought upon all of them volleys from the guns and from the trench mortars. At regular intervals all the machine guns would sweep the place with a rain of bullets. Snipers were also constantly on the watch for the exposure of the smallest part of a man's body.

They had carried little food with them, for they expected it to follow them along their line of communication. There was water in the swampy little creek in the ravine, but to attempt to reach it by day meant certain death. At night the enemy covered it with machine gun fire, making it almost impossible for the Americans to crawl down and back again. Many did make the venture, and some returned with their canteens full, which they shared with their comrades. Others were found afterward by the stream where they had fallen under the enemy's fire.

At regimental headquarters it was known, even before Lieutenant McKeogh got through, that the battalion was surrounded in the forest, unless it had been exterminated or had surrendered. So daily, American aviators flew over the forest attempting to locate the men. They dropped carrier pigeons in boxes hoping some of them might fall into Major Whittlesey's hands and that by them he might send his location to the colonel. They also dropped boxes of food, but neither the pigeons nor the food reached the "lost battalion."

Major Whittlesey had no rockets to send up to give his location, and his men could not yell loud enough to make the aviators hear them and locate them, but their yells did help the Germans to get better range for their trench mortars and machine guns.

As the days passed the Americans grew more and more exhausted, but their courage and hope continued strong. All would rather die than surrender. Their ammunition was getting so low that the Germans were able to come closer to them, for Major Whittlesey ordered his men only to fire when the Hun was near enough so that they were sure not to miss him.

After five days of this terrible exposure and strain, the battalion was rescued by a relief party. Of more than six hundred men at the beginning, three hundred and ninety-four survived at the end of the five days' fighting and suffering. All were completely exhausted, and many wounded. Many were so weak they had to be carried to the rear where warm blankets, warm food, and drink awaited them.

But more than this awaited them. Their comrades were waiting for them with happy smiles and proud cheers. A place in history among the valiant deeds of brave and daring men also awaited them. They taught a lesson in pluck and endurance that the world will not allow to be forgotten.

To those who read this story of The Lost Battalion, Colonel Whittlesey and Lieutenant McKeogh send the following messages:—

The most striking memory of one who returns from abroad is the memory of the enlisted men, who bore the real hardship of the war and did their work in a simple, cheerful way.

Charles W. Whittlesey.

America's greatest contribution to the World War was—the enlisted man. His calm valor, his smiling self-sacrifice can never be told.

Arthur McKeogh 1st Lieut., Inf., U.S.A.



UNITED STATES DAY

United States Day was celebrated in Paris on April 20, 1918.

On that day, exercises were held in the great hall of the Sorbonne; on April 21, a reception was given the American ambassador, and a great procession marched to the statue of Lafayette. The Stars and Stripes flew from the Eiffel Tower and from the municipal buildings on both days.

At the exercises in the Sorbonne on April 20, M. Millerand, president of the French Maritime League, ranked Wilson with Washington and Lincoln.

"Washington, Lincoln, Wilson—these are immortal types of the presidency of a democracy—men who, conscious of their responsibilities, assume the duty of guiding the people at whose head they have the honor to be placed, thus realizing the necessary harmony in human affairs between the principle of authority and the principle of liberty. Yes, history will assign to President Wilson a place among the great statesmen of all time, for he has been able to make clear the reasons why honor condemned neutrality and commanded war in order to assure to humanity the blessing of peace."

Following the speech, the American and French flags were held aloft, touching each other. Then a French poet, Jean Richepin, recited with great emotion and telling effect, a poem he had composed for the occasion, entitled, "The Kiss of the Flags." Ambassador Sharp saluted the great republic of France and her Allies.

In London, the American flag flew on April 20, 1918, where no flag except the British flag had flown in all history, at the top of the Victoria Tower over the Houses of Parliament at Westminster. A solemn and beautiful service was held at St. Paul's Cathedral. The King and Queen and England's greatest men and women attended.

These celebrations in Paris and London and elsewhere are of importance to America, because they proved that the world was beginning to realize that the people of the United States were more than money seekers looking only for selfish gain, and therefore weak and unreliable. When America entered the war, a leading German paper said,

"We do not think that America's intervention will have an essential effect on the results of the war. The Allies are going to have a momentary advantage, but they will soon be aware that America is like a stick that breaks when one wants to lean on it."

Another great German daily gave the following as America's reasons for joining the Allies:—

"First, the desire to have a place at the peace conference; second, the wish to weaken or destroy the love of different peoples for their native lands; third, the hope thereby to be able to increase her military and naval equipment; and fourth, the desire to build up a great American merchant fleet."

Because Germany saw in the United States only the love of power and of the Almighty Dollar, she made the terrible mistake that brought about her downfall. With the declaration of war with Germany on April 6, 1917, at least England and France saw the people of America more nearly as they are, lovers and defenders of the highest ideals man has yet felt and spoken. The American soldiers showed a little later at Belleau Wood and in the Argonne forest, that they loved these ideals enough to die for them.

The English writer, Hall Caine, described the celebration in London in beautiful and graphic language:—

American Day in London was a great and memorable event. It was another sentinel on the hilltop of time, another beacon fire in the history of humanity. The two nations of Great Britain and America can never be divided again. There has been a national marriage between them, which only one judge can dissolve, and the name of that judge is Death. . . .

Two lessons, at least, must be learned from the service of Friday in St. Paul's Cathedral. The first is that the accepted idea of the American Nation as one that weighs and measures all conduct by material values in dollars and cents, must henceforth be banished forever. Thrice already in its short history has it put that hoary old slander to shame, and now once again has it given the lie to it. The history of nations has perhaps no parallel to the high humanity, the splendid self-sacrifice, the complete disinterestedness that brought America into this war, with nothing to gain and everything to lose. It has broken forever with the triple monarchies of murder. To live at peace with crime was to be the accomplice of the criminal. Therefore, in the name of justice, of mercy, of religion, of human dignity, of all that makes man's life worth living and distinguishes it from the life of the brute, America, for all she is or ever can be, has drawn the sword and thrown away the scabbard. God helping her, she could do no other.

The second of the lessons we have to learn from the services of Friday is that, having made war in defense of the right, America will make peace the moment the wrong has been righted. No national bargains will weigh with her, no questions of territory, no problems of the balance of power, no calculations of profit and loss, no ancient treaties, no material covenants, no pledges that are the legacy of past European conflicts. Has justice been done? Is the safety of civilization assured? Has reparation been made, as far as reparation is possible, for the outrages that have disgraced the name of man, and for the sufferings that have knocked at the door of every heart in Christendom? These will be her only questions. Let us take heart and hope from them. They bring peace nearer.

It was not for nothing that the flags of Great Britain and America hung side by side under the chancel arch on Friday morning. At one moment the sun shot through the windows of the dome and lit them up with heavenly radiance. Was it only the exaltation of the moment that made us think invisible powers were giving us a sign that in the union of the nations, which those emblems stood for, lay the surest hope of the day when men will beat their swords into plowshares and know war no more? The United States of Great Britain and America! God grant the union celebrated in our old sanctuary may never be dissolved until that great day has dawned.



NOVEMBER 11, 1918

Sinners are said sometimes to repent and change their ways at the eleventh hour; and on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year of 1918, the Kaiser, and other German war lords, if they did not repent, at least changed their ways, for at that hour the armistice went into effect and the war was over, with Germany and her allies humbled and defeated.

November 11 has become one of the great dates in world history, but it was already great in the history of the nation whose entrance into the World War determined beyond question its final result.

In the State House Library in Boston, there lies in a glass case a very precious manuscript. It is the History of the Plymouth Plantation written by Governor William Bradford. It is often called The Log of the Mayflower, for it records the journey of the Mayflower carrying the Pilgrims to a land of freedom. It tells the story of the forming of an independent government by members of this little band, strong only in their faith and in their desire for liberty.

In the glass case the written manuscript lies open at the record of the solemn compact made in the cabin of the Mayflower in order that all who look may read and know the aims of these few courageous men and women in seeking a new world.

This was about 300 years ago, on November 11, 1620. Let us read again the compact of these brave and adventurous souls, who saw the vision of democracy, a dream not realized for the whole world until 298 years later, on November 11, 1918.

"In the name of God, Amen. We whose names are under-written, the loyal subjects of our dread sovereign Lord, King James, by the grace of God, of Great Britain, France and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith &c. having undertaken for the glory of God and advancement of the Christian faith, and honor of our King and country, a voyage to plant the first colony in the Northern parts of Virginia, do by these presents solemnly and mutually in the presence of God, and of one another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic, for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute and frame such just and equal laws, ordinances, acts, constitutions and offices, from time to time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the colony, unto which we promise all due submission and obedience. In witness whereof we have hereunder subscribed our names at Cape Cod the 11th of November, in the year of the reign of our sovereign lord, King James, of England, France, and Ireland the eighteenth and of Scotland the fifty-fourth. Anno Dom. 1620."

It is safe to say that from this agreement which Senator Hoar called "the most important political transaction that has ever taken place upon the face of the earth," and from this band of Pilgrims, has come in the three centuries leading up to world democracy a greater influence for freedom and liberty than from any other single source in the affairs of men.

How singular that this compact and the armistice with Germany, which is without doubt the most significant transaction between men in all recorded history, should both have been signed on November 11! It has been suggested that hereafter November 11, instead of the last Thursday in November, should be set aside as Thanksgiving Day. It certainly should be forever a day of thanksgiving even if it is not made officially Thanksgiving Day.

Sunday night, November 10, the whole world waited in breathless suspense. The armistice conditions had been considered by the German government at a late sitting in Berlin on Sunday afternoon. Hard as they were, the government decided to accept them and telephoned instructions to Spa, the headquarters of the German army, authorizing the German delegates to sign the papers. The messenger was waiting at Spa to carry the information to the German representatives who were at Chateau de Francfort with Marshal Foch and Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss, first lord of the British navy. He reached them at about two o'clock on Monday morning, November 11, and after some discussion the armistice was signed at five o'clock, to become effective six hours later.

Saturday and Sunday, November 9 and 10, the whole world stopped, looked, and listened. Nothing just like it had happened before in the history of mankind. The world is constantly growing smaller as men overcome the difficulty of getting quickly from place to place, and peoples are thereby getting nearer to each other, so that whatever happens to one is of immediate interest to all others. The following description of Sunday night and Monday morning in a newspaper office in a small Massachusetts city is a graphic and interesting account of scenes that were being enacted at the same time all over the world.

WAITING FOR THE FLASH

Not at once can the mind grasp the full significance of the wonderful event of Monday, and as time goes on, more and more will the world come to realize what the signing of the armistice which ended the war means to present and future generations. Events were moving so rapidly during the dying days of German military might that keeping pace with them was literally out of the question. That Germany was a mere shell, most people who had followed the course of the war believed; and that she must accept dictated terms of armistice from the allies, regardless of their severity, was growing clearer day by day.

Events of last Friday made it quite plain that the armistice offered by the allied nations through Marshal Foch was to be signed by Germany within the specified 72 hours. This position was strengthened Saturday afternoon when positive word came that the Kaiser had abdicated. It was the beginning of the definite end. It revealed a power in Germany greater than the power of the Hohenzollerns—the power of an outraged people rising after long years of oppression.

From that hour of mid-afternoon on Saturday when the abdication of the Kaiser was "flashed" to the Sentinel over its Associated Press wire, there was no relaxation in its plant. In the press room—which must be ready at a second's notice—men were on guard for every minute until the Kaiser's hour struck on Monday morning at 2.45 o'clock. It mattered not to them that a bed between two rolls of paper was the softest they could find, for couches and easy chairs are no part of a newspaper establishment. Sometimes the thought comes that "newspaper" is but a synonym for "slavery."

With the coming of Sunday morning, without the expected word, the vigil was taken up in other directions. The composing, telegraph, and editorial rooms joined in keeping guard. The wire began to tick off its code messages of riots in Berlin, further spreading of the "Red" revolt in the army and navy, the flight of the dethroned Kaiser to Holland, and the other numerous signs all pointing to positive assurance that Germany must sign the armistice terms read to its representatives by Marshal Foch, no matter how stern they might be. In mid-afternoon came a brief message plucked from the air—a Berlin wireless—that the signing of the armistice was expected momentarily. But the hours wore on into late evening, and then came through a dispatch from Washington saying that the delay of the German courier in crossing the line might result in an extension of the 72-hour limit. Cold water never had a chilling effect equal to that. One by one the afternoon papers began to click out "good night" to the main office until only a few remained with the morning paper operators.

Around The Associated Press New England circuit it must have been a great day for the tobacco trust, for pipes burn freely under pressure. From apples to dogs, from men who do little and make a big fuss about it to men who do much and keep still about it, goes the discussion between a bite at a sandwich and a sip at a mug of alleged coffee brought in from a lunch room. All the while the clock was moving along to the hour that was to say whether the answer was peace or more war.

It was during an argument, surely—for that's the stock in trade in a newspaper office—that it came. What the argument was, and who was winning it and who losing it, is forgotten now, for from the adjoining room of The Associated Press operator at 2.46 o'clock in the morning came the wild exclamation—F-L-A-S-H—The Associated Press signal, very seldom employed, indicating that something big has happened. Three jumps to the operator's side, and there on the paper in his typewriter appeared just three words: "Flash—Armistice signed." It was enough. Action replaced watchful waiting.

Not long afterward the bells began to ring and the whistles to blow. The assembling place for the celebration the mayor had ordered was right in front of the Sentinel office, the biggest and most available congregation park in the city. By that time the first Sentinel extra had gone to press, and there was a breathing spell. From the top floor of the Sentinel home everything happening below could be seen. First to arrive in the square was an automobile from Prospect hill, driven by the chairman of the committee on public safety, for he had been notified simultaneously with the mayor. Then another car came up Main street. Then men on foot began to arrive. At first they came in ones and twos and threes, up street and down street and around the corners, and then in droves and swarms. Automobiles increased in number, coming from all directions, with blaring horns and seemingly slight regard for their own safety, but also with much regard for the safety of others.

Soon the square was alive, and there will not in our time be another sight like it, for war of conquest is an unpopular business now. The flashing headlights of the motor cars, the screaming horns, the yelling men, women and children, combined to make a picture never to be erased from memory. It was great to have seen it, even though not an immediate part of it. Then the parade started, disappeared down the street, and in due time came back. Later in the day was another parade, and a larger and more formal one. But it was not like the early morning rallying of the "victory clans." Nothing again will ever be like it. A spontaneous celebration of the victorious ending of a terrible struggle that has rocked the world for more than four years has a place by itself.

While the city was still seething with jubilant excitement and the main street was getting more and more alive with people every minute, the darkness of night began to give way before the dawn of day. And it was a beautiful dawn, too. The eastern sky did not reveal itself in sullen shade, but in clear color, more calm than brilliant, more in keeping with a message of peace than of strife on earth.[1]

These celebrations were in many cases of the strangest character, the chief aim seeming to be to march somewhere in some procession and to make as much noise as possible. In one of the large cities of Massachusetts, the first sight that struck the eyes of citizens rushing into the square was fifty or more of the most prominent business men, each in a tin wash boiler, being drawn by two men over the paved street while its occupant yelled at the top of his voice and beat its sides with a hammer. Auto trucks dashed up and down the streets as long as these were clear, then joined processions or dragged behind them over the pavements four or five empty galvanized ash cans. In New York at the premature celebration, which occurred November 8 when a false report was cabled from Europe saying the armistice was signed, and at the celebration on November 11, thousands of pieces of paper of all sizes were dropped from the windows of the great buildings, scrap baskets were emptied, catalogues, directories, and other pamphlets were torn up and dropped sheet by sheet until in some places the entire street was covered by this "paper snow storm." It is said that it cost the city $80,000 to clean the paper from the streets after the celebration was over.

The tolling of church bells all over the country in the very early hours of the morning not only announced to the people the signing of the armistice, but also announced in many places church services of thanksgiving.

Some cities and towns held two celebrations beside the so-called "fake" celebration on November 8. The Governor of Massachusetts early on Monday issued a proclamation naming Tuesday, November twelfth, as a legal holiday, but this did not deter the people from celebrating on the eleventh. In Boston all the talcum powder available was purchased and thrown on people's hats and shoulders. When it was brushed off in considerable quantities, it made the pavements look as if they were covered with snow and even more slippery. The chief spectacular feature of the celebration in Boston, however, was the burning on the Common, on Tuesday night, of twenty-five tons of red fire in one great blaze. Similar and perhaps more hilariously happy scenes took place in New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Atlanta, Chicago, San Francisco,—in every great city and hamlet in the country.

Soldiers and sailors marched, reviewed by mayors and governors and generals and admirals. Speeches were made and songs were sung. It seemed at times as if everyone had gone crazy. If a person could have ascended high enough in an air plane and could have had the vision to have seen the whole United States, he would have perceived a most wonderful sight—a hundred million people yelling and singing and parading in every nook and corner of this great country. Nothing shows better the horror and hatred of war that was felt by the American people than this wonderful joy at the knowledge that it was all over; and nothing shows better how much liberty and democracy meant to them than their willingness to enter upon war when they so detested it and so much desired to see it done away with forever.

Imagine the joy on these days in France and England and Belgium with their great cities lit up again after more than four years of darkness! What wonder that the Belgian boys and girls in Ghent marched up and down the streets singing, "It's a long, long way to Tipperary," the song which was probably the last they had heard on the lips of British soldiers as they were pushed back out of the city by the foe! Meanwhile the adults gathered in groups on the streets and in the cafes and sang "The Marseillaise."

No other war correspondent felt and described the war with as much sympathy and power as Philip Gibbs. His description of the rejoicing in Ghent on Tuesday, November 12, is a beautiful and touching story. He writes of the lights and the singing as follows:—

"For the first time in five winters of war, they lighted their lamps with open shutters, and from many windows there streamed out bright beams which lured one like a moth to candle light because of its sign of peace. There were bright stars and a crescent moon in the sky, silvering the Flemish gables and frontages between black shadows and making patterns of laces in the Place d'Armes below the trees with their autumn foliage.

"In these lights and in these shadows the people of Ghent danced and sang until midnight chimed. They danced in baker's dozens, with linked arms, men and girls together, singing deep voices and high voices, all mingling, so that when I went to my bedroom and looked out of the casement window, it rose in a chorus from all over the city, like music by Debussy.

"One song came as a constant refrain between all the others. It was 'The Marseillaise.' They sang it in crowds and in small groups of soldiers and students, and I followed one man, who walked down a deserted avenue and who, as he walked, sang the song of liberty to himself, brandishing his stick, while his voice rang out with a kind of ecstasy of passion."

Messages of congratulation passed from country to country and to armies and navies. Josephus Daniels sent by wireless the following tribute to all United States naval stations and ships:—

"The signing of the armistice makes this the greatest day for our country since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. For the world there has been no day so momentous for liberty. I send greetings and congratulations to all in the naval establishments at home and abroad. The test of war found the navy ready, fit, with every man on his toes. Every day all the men in the service have given fresh proof of devotion, loyalty, and efficiency."

President Wilson cabled to King Albert on the day the king was expected to enter Brussels, the Belgian capital, the following message:—

"Never has a national holiday occurred at a more auspicious moment and never have felicitations been more heartfelt than those which it is my high privilege to tender to Your Majesty on this day."

"When facing imminent destruction, Belgium by her self-sacrifice won for herself a place of honor among nations, a crown of glory, imperishable though all else were lost.

"The danger is averted, the hour of victory come and with it the promise of a new life, fuller, greater, nobler than has been known before.

"The blood of Belgium's heroic sons has not been shed in vain."

The most terrible and bloody conflict in all history had ended, and the world was saved for the people. The struggle upward by the common people for over a thousand years was not after all to be in vain. Liberty and democracy were now assured to all; the danger of slavery and autocracy was over. It was not strange that a whole world seemed to have gone wild with joy.



[1] George H. Godbeer in Fitchburg, Mass., Daily Sentinel.



IN MEMORIAM

[THE FIGHTING YEARS, 1914-1918]

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow— The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes and foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

TENNYSON.



THE UNITED STATES AT WAR—IN FRANCE

Adapted with a few omissions and changes in language from the report of General Pershing made November 20, 1918, to the Secretary of War.

Upon receiving my orders, I selected a small staff and proceeded to Europe in order to become familiar with conditions at the earliest possible moment.

The warmth of our reception in England and France was only equalled by the readiness of the leaders of the Allied armies to assist us in every way. We met and considered the best ways of working together.

The French and British armies could not be increased in strength and they had been unable to drive the enemy from his systems of trenches in Belgium and France. It was therefore necessary to plan for an American force large enough to turn the scale in favor of the Allies. The problem before us was one of the very greatest difficulty. The first step was the formation of a General Staff and I gave this my early attention.

A well organized General Staff to put into effect the plans of the Commander in Chief is essential to a successful modern army. However capable divisions, battalions, and companies may be as units, success would be impossible unless they worked together. A well organized General Staff trained for war has not hitherto existed in our army. Under the Commander in Chief this staff must carry out the policy of the army as a whole and direct all the details of its preparation, support, and operation. As models to aid us, we had the veteran French General Staff and the experience of the British who had formed a staff to meet the demands of a great army. By selecting from each the features that best met our needs and helped by our own early experience in the war, our great General Staff system was completed.

The General Staff is divided into five groups, each with its chief. G. 1 is in charge of the organization and equipment of troops, replacements, overseas shipment, and welfare associations; G. 2 has censorship, gathering and disseminating information, particularly concerning the enemy, preparation of maps, and all similar subjects; G. 3 is charged with all strategic studies and plans and the supervision of the movement of troops and of fighting; G. 4 co-ordinates questions of army supply, necessary construction, transport for troops going into battle, of hospitals and the movement of the sick and wounded; G. 5 supervises the various schools and has general direction of education and training.

It was decided that our combat divisions should consist of four regiments of infantry of 3,000 men each with three battalions to a regiment, and four companies of 250 men each to a battalion, and of an artillery brigade of three regiments, a machine gun battalion, an engineer regiment, a trench-mortar battery; a signal battalion, wagon trains, and the headquarters staffs and military police. These with medical and other units, made a total of over 28,000 men, or about double the size of a French or German division. Each corps consisted of six divisions—four combat and one depot and one replacement division—and also two regiments of cavalry. Each army consisted of from three to five corps. With four divisions fully trained, a corps could take over an American sector with two divisions in line and two in reserve, with the depot and replacement divisions prepared to fill the gaps in the ranks.

Our purpose was to prepare an American force which should be able to take the offensive in every respect. Accordingly, the development of a self-reliant infantry by thorough drill in the use of the rifle and in the tactics of open warfare was always uppermost. The plan of training after arrival in France allowed a division one month for acclimatization and instruction in small units from battalions down, a second month in quiet trench sectors by battalion, and a third month after it came out of the trenches when it should be trained as a complete division in war of movement.

Very early a system of schools was outlined and started which should have the advantage of instruction by officers direct from the front. At the great school centre at Langres, one of the first to be organized, was the staff school, where the principles of general staff work, as laid down in our own organization, were taught to carefully selected officers. Men in the ranks who had shown qualities of leadership were sent to the school of candidates for commissions. A school of the line taught younger officers the principles of leadership, tactics, and the use of the different weapons. In the artillery school, at Saumur, young officers were taught the fundamental principles of modern artillery; while at Issoudun an immense plant was built for training cadets in aviation. These and other schools, with their well-considered curriculums for training in every branch of our organization, were co-ordinated in a manner best to develop an efficient army out of willing and industrious young men, many of whom had not before known even the rudiments of military technique. Both Marshal Haig and General Petain placed officers and men at our disposal for instructional purposes, and we are deeply indebted for the opportunities given to profit by their veteran experience.

The place the American Army should take on the western front was to a large extent influenced by the vital questions of communication and supply. The northern ports of France were crowded by the British Armies' shipping and supplies while the southern ports, though otherwise at our service, had not adequate port facilities for our purposes, and these we should have to build. The already overtaxed railway system behind the active front in Northern France would not be available for us as lines of supply, and those leading from the southern ports of Northeastern France would be unequal to our needs without much new construction. Practically all warehouses, supply depots and regulating stations must be provided by fresh constructions. While France offered us such material as she had to spare after a drain of three years, enormous quantities of material had to be brought across the Atlantic.

With such a problem any hesitation or lack of definiteness in making plans might cause failure even with victory within our grasp. Moreover, plans as great as our national purpose and resources would bring conviction of our power to every soldier in the front line, to the nations associated with us in the war, and to the enemy. The tonnage for material for necessary construction for the supply of an army of three and perhaps four million men would require a mammoth program of shipbuilding at home, and miles of dock construction in France, with a corresponding large project for additional railways and for storage depots.

All these considerations led to the conclusion that if we were to handle and supply the great forces deemed essential to win the war we must utilize the southern ports of France—Bordeaux, La Pallice, St. Nazaire, and Brest—and the comparatively unused railway systems leading therefrom to the northeast. This would mean the use of our forces against the enemy somewhere in that direction, but the great depots of supply must be centrally located, preferably in the area included by Tours, Bourges, and Chateauroux, so that our armies could be supplied with equal facility wherever they might be serving on the western front.

To build up such a system there were talented men in the Regular Army, but more experts were necessary than the army could furnish. Thanks to the patriotic spirit of our people at home, there came from civil life men trained for every sort of work involved in building and managing the organization necessary to handle and transport such an army and keep it supplied. With such assistance the construction and general development of our plans have kept pace with the growth of the forces, and the Service of Supply is now able to discharge from ships and move 45,000 tons daily, besides transporting troops and material in the conduct of active operations.

As to organization, all the administrative and supply services, except the Adjutant General's, Inspector General's, and Judge Advocate General's Departments, which remain at general headquarters, have been transferred to the headquarters of the services of supplies at Tours under a commanding General responsible to the Commander-in-Chief for supply of the armies. The Chief Quartermaster, Chief Surgeon, Chief Signal Officer, Chief of Ordnance, Chief of Air Service, Chief of Chemical Warfare, the general purchasing agent in all that pertains to questions of procurement and supply, the Provost Marshal General in the maintenance of order in general, the Director General of Transportation in all that affects such matters, and the Chief Engineer in all matters of administration and supply, are subordinate to the Commanding General of the Service of Supply, who, assisted by a staff especially organized for the purpose, is charged with the administrative co-ordination of all these services.

The transportation department under the Service of Supply directs the operation, maintenance, and construction of railways, the operation of terminals, the unloading of ships, and transportation of material to warehouses or to the front. Its functions make necessary the most intimate relationship between our organization and that of the French, with the practical result that our transportation department has been able to improve materially the operations of railways generally. Constantly laboring under a shortage of rolling stock, the transportation department has nevertheless been able by efficient management to meet every emergency.

The Engineer Corps is charged with all construction, including light railways and roads. It has planned and constructed the many projects required, the most important of which are the new wharves at Bordeaux and Nantes, and the immense storage depots at La Pallice, Mointoir, and Glevres, besides innumerable hospitals and barracks in various ports of France. These projects have all been carried on by phases, keeping pace with our needs. The Forestry Service under the Engineer Corps has cut the greater part of the timber and railway ties required.

To meet the shortage of supplies from America, due to lack of shipping, the representatives of the different supply departments were constantly in search of available material and supplies in Europe. In order to co-ordinate these purchases and to prevent competition between our departments, a general purchasing agency was created early in our experience to co-ordinate our purchases and, if possible, induce our allies to apply the principle among the allied armies. While there was no authority for the general use of appropriations, this was met by grouping the purchasing representatives of the different departments under one control, charged with the duty of consolidating requisitions and purchases. Our efforts to extend the principle have been signally successful, and all purchases for the allied armies are now on an equitable and co-operative basis. Indeed, it may be said that the work of this bureau has been thoroughly efficient and businesslike.

Our entry into the war found us with little of the equipment necessary for its conduct in the modern sense. Among our most important deficiencies in material were artillery, aviation, and tanks. In order to meet our requirements as rapidly as possible, we accepted the offer of the French Government to provide us with the necessary artillery equipment of seventy-fives, one fifty-five millimeter howitzer, and one fifty-five G. P. F. gun, from their own factories for each of the thirty divisions. The wisdom of this course is fully demonstrated by the fact that, although we soon began the manufacture of these classes of guns at home, there were no guns of the calibres mentioned manufactured in America on our front at the date the armistice was signed. The only guns of these types produced at home thus far received in France are 109 seventy-five millimeter guns.

In aviation we were in the same situation, and here again the French Government came to our aid until our own aviation program should be under way. We obtained from the French the necessary planes for training our personnel, and they have provided us with a total of 2,676 pursuit, observation, and bombing planes. The first airplanes received from home arrived in May, and altogether we have received 1,379. The first American squadron completely equipped by American production, including airplanes, crossed the German lines on Aug. 7, 1918. As to tanks, we were also compelled to rely upon the French. Here, however, we were less fortunate, for the reason that the French production could barely meet the requirements of their own armies.

It should be fully realized that the French Government has always taken a most liberal attitude, and has been most anxious to give us every possible assistance in meeting our deficiencies in these as well as in other respects. Our dependence upon France for artillery, aviation, and tanks was, of course, due to the fact that our industries had not been exclusively devoted to military production. All credit is due our own manufacturers for their efforts to meet our requirements, as at the time the armistice was signed we were able to look forward to the early supply of practically all our necessities from our own factories. The welfare of the troops touches my responsibility as Commander-in-Chief to the mothers and fathers and kindred of the men who came to France in the impressionable period of youth. They could not have the privilege accorded European soldiers during their periods of leave of visiting their families and renewing their home ties. Fully realizing that the standard of conduct that should be established for them must have a permanent influence in their lives and on the character of their future citizenship, the Red Cross, the Young Men's Christian Association, Knights of Columbus, the Salvation Army, and the Jewish Welfare Board, as aids in this work, were encouraged in every possible way. The fact that our soldiers, in a land of different customs and language, have borne themselves in a manner in keeping with the cause for which they fought, is due not only to the efforts in their behalf, but much more to their high ideals, their discipline, and their innate sense of self-respect. It should be recorded, however, that the members of these welfare societies have been untiring in their desire to be of real service to our officers and men. The patriotic devotion of these representative men and women has given a new significance to the Golden Rule, and we owe to them a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.

During our period of training in the trenches some of our divisions had engaged the enemy in local combats, the most important of which was Seicheprey by the 26th on April 20, in the Toul sector, but none had taken part in action as a unit. The 1st Division, which had passed through the preliminary stages of training, had gone to the trenches for its first period of instruction at the end of October, and by March 21, when the German offensive in Picardy began, we had four divisions with experience in the trenches, all of which were equal to any demands of battle action. The crisis which this offensive developed was such that our occupation of an American sector must be postponed.

On March 28 I placed at the disposal of Marshal Foch, who had been agreed upon as Commander-in-Chief o the Allied Armies, all of our forces, to be used as he might decide. At his request the 1st Division was transferred from the Toul sector to a position in reserve at Chaumont en Vexin. As German superiority in numbers required prompt action, an agreement was reached at the Abbeville conference of the Allied Premiers and commanders and myself on May 2 by which British shipping was to transport ten American divisions to the British Army area, where they were to be trained and equipped, and additional British shipping was to be provided for as many divisions as possible for use elsewhere.

On April 26 the 1st Division had gone into the line in the Montdidier salient on the Picardy battlefront. Tactics had been suddenly revolutionized to those of open warfare, and our men, confident of the results of their training, were eager for the test. On the morning of May 28 this division attacked the commanding German position in its front, taking with splendid dash the town of Cantigny and all other objectives, which were organized and held steadfastly against vicious counterattacks and galling artillery fire. Although local, this brilliant action had an electrical effect, as it demonstrated our fighting qualities under extreme battle conditions, and also that the enemy's troops were not altogether invincible.

The Germans' Aisne offensive, which began on May 27, had advanced rapidly toward the River Marne and Paris, and the Allies faced a crisis equally as grave as that of the Picardy offensive in March. Again every available man was placed at Marshal Foch's disposal, and the 3d Division, which had just come from its preliminary training in the trenches, was hurried to the Marne. Its motorized machine-gun battalion preceded the other units and successfully held the bridgehead at the Marne, opposite Chateau-Thierry. The 2d Division, in reserve near Montdidier, was sent by motor trucks and other available transport to check the progress of the enemy toward Paris. The division attacked and retook the town and railroad station at Bouresches and sturdily held its ground against the enemy's best guard divisions. In the battle of Belleau Wood, which followed, our men proved their superiority and gained a strong tactical position, with far greater loss to the enemy than to ourselves. On July 1, before the 2d was relieved, it captured the village of Vaux with most splendid precision.

Meanwhile our 2d Corps, under Major Gen. George W. Read, had been organized for the command of our divisions with the British, which were held back in training areas or assigned to second-line defenses. Five of the ten divisions were withdrawn from the British area in June, three to relieve divisions in Lorraine and in the Vosges and two to the Paris area to join the group of American divisions which stood between the city and any further advance of the enemy in that direction.

The great June-July troop movement from the States was well under way, and, although these troops were to be given some preliminary training before being put into action, their very presence warranted the use of all the older divisions in the confidence that we did not lack reserves. Elements of the 42d Division were in the line east of Rheims against the German offensive of July 15, and held their ground unflinchingly. On the right flank of this offensive four companies of the 28th Division were in position in face of the advancing waves of the German infantry. The 3d Division was holding the bank of the Marne from the bend east of the mouth of the Surmelin to the west of Mezy, opposite Chateau-Thierry, where a large force of German infantry sought to force a passage under support of powerful artillery concentrations and under cover of smoke screens. A single regiment of the 3d wrote one of the most brilliant pages in our military annals on this occasion. It prevented the crossing at certain points on its front while, on either flank, the Germans, who had gained a footing, pressed forward. Our men, firing in three directions, met the German attacks with counter attacks at critical points and succeeded in throwing two German divisions into complete confusion, capturing 600 prisoners.

The great force of the German Chateau-Thierry offensive established the deep Marne salient, but the enemy was taking chances, and the vulnerability of this pocket to attack might be turned to his disadvantage. Seizing this opportunity to support my conviction, every division with any sort of training was made available for use in a counter offensive. The place of honor in the thrust toward Soissons on July 18 was given to our 1st and 2d Divisions in company with chosen French divisions. Without the usual brief warning of a preliminary bombardment, the massed French and American artillery, firing by the map, laid down its rolling barrage at dawn while the infantry began its charge. The tactical handling of our troops under these trying conditions was excellent throughout the action. The enemy brought up large numbers of reserves and made a stubborn defense both with machine guns and artillery, but through five days' fighting the 1st Division continued to advance until it had gained the heights above Soissons and captured the village of Berzy-le-Sec. The 2d Division took Beau Repaire Farm and Vierzy in a very rapid advance and reached a position in front of Tigny at the end of its second day. These two divisions captured 7,000 prisoners and over 100 pieces of artillery.

The 26th Division, which, with a French division, was under command of our 1st Corps, acted as a pivot of the movement toward Soissons. On the 18th it took the village of Torcy, while the 3d Division was crossing the Marne in pursuit of the retiring enemy. The 26th attacked again on the 21st and the enemy withdrew past the Chateau-Thierry-Soissons road. The 3d Division, continuing its progress, took the heights of Mont St. Pere and the villages of Charteves and Jaulgonne in the face of both machine-gun and artillery fire.

On the 24th, after the Germans had fallen back from Trugny and Epieds, our 42d Division, which had been brought over from the Champagne, relieved the 26th, and, fighting its way through the Foret de Fere, overwhelmed the nest of machine guns in its path. By the 27th it had reached the Ourcq, whence the 3d and 4th Divisions were already advancing, while the French divisions with which we were co-operating were moving forward at other points.

The 3d Division had made its advance into Roncheres Wood on the 29th and was relieved for rest by a brigade of the 32d. The 42d and 32d undertook the task of conquering the heights beyond Cierges, the 42d capturing Sergy and the 32d capturing Hill 230, both American divisions joining in the pursuit of the enemy to the Vesle, and thus the operation of reducing the salient was finished. Meanwhile the 42d was relieved by the 4th, and the 32d by the 28th, while the 77th Division took up a position on the Vesle. The operations of these divisions on the Vesle were under the 3d Corps, Major Gen. Robert L. Bullard commanding.

With the reduction of the Marne salient, we could look forward to the concentration of our divisions in our own zone. In view of the forthcoming operation against the St. Mihiel salient, which had long been planned as our first offensive action on a large scale, the First Army was organized on Aug. 10 under my personal command. While American units had held different sectors along the western front, there had not been up to this time, for obvious reasons, a distinct American sector; but, in view of the important parts the American forces were now to play, it was necessary to take over a permanent portion of the line. Accordingly, on Aug. 30, the line beginning at Port sur Seille, east of the Moselle and extending to the west through St. Mihiel, thence north to a point opposite Verdun, was placed under my command. The American sector was afterward extended across the Meuse to the western edge of the Argonne Forest, and included the 2d Colonial French, which held the point of the salient, and the 17th French Corps, which occupied the heights above Verdun.

The preparation for a complicated operation against the formidable defenses in front of us included the assembling of divisions and of corps and army artillery, transport, aircraft, tanks, ambulances, the location of hospitals, and the molding together of all the elements of a great modern army with its own railheads, supplied directly by our own Service of Supply. The concentration for this operation, which was to be a surprise, involved the movement, mostly at night, of approximately 600,000 troops, and required for its success the most careful attention to every detail.

The French were generous in giving us assistance in corps and army artillery and we were confident from the start of our superiority over the enemy in guns of all calibres. Our heavy guns were able to reach Metz and to interfere seriously with German rail movements. The French Independent Air Force was placed under my command, which, together with the British bombing squadrons and our air forces, gave us the largest assembly of aviators that had ever been engaged in one operation on the western front.

From Les Eparges around the nose of the salient at St. Mihiel to the Moselle River the line was, roughly, forty miles long and situated on commanding ground greatly strengthened by artificial defenses. Our 1st Corps, (82d, 90th, 5th, and 2d Divisions,) under command of Major Gen. Hunter Liggett, resting its right on Pont-a-Mousson, with its left joining our 3d Corps, (the 89th, 42d, and 1st Divisions,) under Major Gen. Joseph T. Dickman, in line to Xivray, was to swing toward Vigneulles on the pivot of the Moselle River for the initial assault. From Xivray to Mouilly the 2d Colonial French Corps was in line in the centre, and our 5th Corps, under command of Major Gen. George H. Cameron, with our 26th Division and a French division at the western base of the salient, was to attack three difficult hills—Les Eparges, Combres, and Amaranthe. Our 1st Corps had in reserve the 78th Division, our 4th Corps the 3d Division, and our First Army the 35th and 91st Divisions, with the 80th and 33d available. It should be understood that our corps organizations are very elastic, and that we have at no time had permanent assignments of divisions to corps.

After four hours' artillery preparation, the seven American divisions in the front line advanced at 5 A.M. on Sept. 12, assisted by a limited number of tanks, manned partly by Americans and partly by French. These divisions, accompanied by groups of wire cutters and others armed with bangalore torpedoes, went through the successive bands of barbed wire that protected the enemy's front-line and support trenches in irresistible waves on schedule time, breaking down all defense of an enemy demoralized by the great volume of our artillery fire and our sudden approach out of the fog.

Our 1st Corps advanced to Thiaucourt, while our 4th Corps curved back to the southwest through Nonsard. The 2d Colonial French Corps made the slight advance required of it on very difficult ground, and the 5th Corps took its three ridges and repulsed a counter attack. A rapid march brought reserve regiments of a division of the 5th Corps into Vigneulles and beyond Fresnes-en-Woevre. At the cost of only 7,000 casualties, mostly light, we had taken 16,000 prisoners and 443 guns, a great quantity of material, released the inhabitants of many villages from enemy domination, and established our lines in a position to threaten Metz. This signal success of the American First Army in its first offensive was of prime importance. The Allies found they had a formidable army to aid them, and the enemy learned finally that he had one to reckon with.

On the day after we had taken the St. Mihiel salient, much of our corps and army artillery which had operated at St. Mihiel, and our divisions in reserve at other points, were already on the move toward the area back of the line between the Meuse River and the western edge of the Forest of Argonne. With the exception of St. Mihiel, the old German front line from Switzerland to the east of Rheims was still intact. In the general attack all along the line, the operations assigned the American Army as the hinge of this Allied offensive were directed toward the important railroad communications of the German armies through Mezieres and Sedan. The enemy must hold fast to this part of his lines, or the withdrawal of his forces, with four years' accumulation of plants and material, would be dangerously imperiled.

The German Army had as yet shown no demoralization, and, while the mass of its troops had suffered in morale, its first-class divisions, and notably its machine-gun defense, were exhibiting remarkable tactical efficiency as well as courage. The German General Staff was fully aware of the consequences of a success on the Meuse-Argonne line. Certain that he would do everything in his power to oppose us, the action was planned with as much secrecy as possible and was undertaken with the determination to use all our divisions in forcing decision. We expected to draw the best German divisions to our front and to consume them while the enemy was held under grave apprehension lest our attack should break his line, which it was our firm purpose to do.

Our right flank was protected by the Meuse, while our left embraced the Argonne Forest, whose ravines, hills, and elaborate defense, screened by dense thickets, had been generally considered impregnable. Our order of battle from right to left was the 3d Corps from the Meuse to Malancourt, with the 33d, 80th, and 4th Divisions in line and the 3d Division as corps reserve; the 5th Corps from Malancourt to Vauquois, with the 79th, 87th, and 91st Divisions in line and the 32d in corps reserve, and the 1st Corps from Vauquois to Vienne le Chateau, with the 35th, 28th, and 77th Divisions in line and the 92d in corps reserve. The army reserve consisted of the 1st, 29th, and 82d Divisions.

On the night of Sept. 25, our troops quietly took the place of the French, who thinly held the line in this sector, which had long been inactive. In the attack which began on the 26th we drove through the barbed-wire entanglements and the sea of shell craters across No Man's Land, mastering all the first-line defenses. Continuing on the 27th and 28th, against machine guns and artillery of an increasing number of enemy reserve divisions, we penetrated to a depth of from three to seven miles and took the village of Montfaucon and its commanding hill, and other villages. East of the Meuse one of our divisions, which was with the 2d Colonial French Corps, captured Marcheville and Rieville, giving further protection to the flank of our main body. We had taken 10,000 prisoners, we had gained our point of forcing the battle into the open, and were prepared for the enemy's reaction, which was bound to come, as he had good roads and ample railroad facilities for bringing up his artillery and reserves.

In the chill rain of dark nights, our engineers had to build new roads across spongy, shell-torn areas, repair broken roads beyond No Man's Land, and build bridges. Our gunners, with no thought of sleep, put their shoulders to wheels and drag ropes to bring their guns through the mire in support of the infantry, now under the increasing fire of the enemy's artillery. Our attack had taken the enemy by surprise, but, quickly recovering himself, he began to fire counter attacks in strong force, supported by heavy bombardments, with large quantities of gas. From Sept. 28 until Oct. 4, we maintained the offensive against patches of woods defended by snipers and continuous lines of machine guns, and pushed forward our guns and transport, seizing strategical points in preparation for further attacks.

Other divisions attached to the Allied Armies were doing their part. It was the fortune of our 2d Corps, composed of the 27th and 30th Divisions, which had remained with the British, to have a place of honor in co-operation with the Australian Corps on Sept. 29 and Oct. 1 in the assault on the Hindenburg line where the St. Quentin Canal passes through a tunnel under a ridge. The 30th Division speedily broke through the main line of defense for all its objectives, while the 27th pushed on impetuously through the main line until some of its elements reached Gouy. In the midst of the maze of trenches and shell craters and under crossfire from machine guns the other elements fought desperately against odds. In this and in later actions, from Oct. 6 to Oct. 19, our 2d Corps captured over 6,000 prisoners and advanced over thirteen miles. The spirit and aggressiveness of these divisions have been highly praised by the British Army commander under whom they served.

On Oct. 2-9 our 2d and 36th Divisions were sent to assist the French in an important attack against the old German positions before Rheims. The 2d conquered the complicated defense works on their front against a persistent defense worthy of the grimmest period of trench warfare and attacked the strongly held wooded hill of Blanc Mont, which they captured in a second assault, sweeping over it with consummate dash and skill. This division then repulsed strong counter attacks before the village and cemetery of Ste. Etienne and took the town, forcing the Germans to fall back from before Rheims and yield positions they had held since September, 1914. On Oct. 9 the 36th Division relieved the 2d, and in its first experience under fire withstood very severe artillery bombardment and rapidly took up the pursuit of the enemy, now retiring behind the Aisne.

The allied progress elsewhere cheered the efforts of our men in this crucial contest, as the German command threw in more and more first-class troops to stop our advance. We made steady headway in the almost impenetrable and strongly held Argonne Forest, for, despite this reinforcement, it was our army that was doing the driving. Our aircraft was increasing in skill and numbers and forcing the issue, and our infantry and artillery were improving rapidly with each new experience. The replacements fresh from home were put into exhausted divisions with little time for training, but they had the advantage of serving beside men who knew their business and who had almost become veterans overnight. The enemy had taken every advantage of the terrain, which especially favored the defense, by a prodigal use of machine guns manned by highly trained veterans and by using his artillery at short ranges. In the face of such strong frontal positions we should have been unable to accomplish any progress according to previously accepted standards, but I had every confidence in our aggressive tactics and the courage of our troops.

On Oct. 4 the attack was renewed all along our front. The 3d Corps, tilting to the left, followed the Brieulles-Cunel road; our 5th Corps took Gesnes, while the 1st Corps advanced for over two miles along the irregular valley of the Aire River and in the wooded hills of the Argonne that bordered the river, used by the enemy with all his art and weapons of defense. This sort of fighting continued against an enemy striving to hold every foot of ground and whose very strong counterattacks challenged us at every point. On the 7th the 1st Corps captured Chatel-Chenery and continued along the river to Cornay. On the east of Meuse sector, one of the two divisions, co-operating with the French, captured Consenvoye and the Haumont Woods. On the 9th the 5th Corps, in its progress up the Aire, took Fleville, and the 3d Corps, which had continuous fighting against odds, was working its way through Brieulles and Cunel. On the 10th we had cleared the Argonne Forest of the enemy.

It was now necessary to constitute a second army, and on Oct. 9 the immediate command of the First Army was turned over to Lieut. Gen. Hunter Liggett. The command of the Second Army, whose divisions occupied a sector in the Woevre, was given to Lieut. Gen. Robert L. Bullard, who had been commander of the 1st Division and then of the 3d Corps. Major Gen. Dickman was transferred to the command of the 1st Corps, while the 5th Corps was placed under Major Gen. Charles P. Summerall, who had recently commanded the 1st Division. Major Gen. John L. Hines, who had gone rapidly up from regimental to division commander, was assigned to the 3d Corps. These four officers had been in France from the early days of the expedition and had learned their lessons in the school of practical warfare.

Our constant pressure against the enemy brought day by day more prisoners, mostly survivors from machine-gun nests captured in fighting at close quarters. On Oct. 18 there was very fierce fighting in the Caures Woods east of the Meuse and in the Ormont Woods. On the 14th the 1st Corps took St. Juvin, and the 5th Corps, in hand-to-hand encounters, entered the formidable Kriemhilde line, where the enemy had hoped to check us indefinitely. Later the 5th Corps penetrated further the Kriemhilde line, and the 1st Corps took Champigneulles and the important town of Grandpre. Our dogged offensive was wearing down the enemy, who continued desperately to throw his best troops against us, thus weakening his line in front of our Allies and making their advance less difficult.

Meanwhile we were not only able to continue the battle, but our 37th and 91st Divisions were hastily withdrawn from our front and dispatched to help the French Army in Belgium. De-training in the neighborhood of Ypres, these divisions advanced by rapid stages to the fighting line and were assigned to adjacent French corps. On Oct. 31, in continuation of the Flanders offensive, they attacked and methodically broke down all enemy resistance. On Nov. 3, the 37th had completed its mission in dividing the enemy across the Escaut River and firmly established itself along the east bank included in the division zone of action. By a clever flanking movement troops of the 91st Division captured Spitaals Bosschen, a difficult wood extending across the central part of the division sector, reached the Escaut, and penetrated into the town of Audenarde. These divisions received high commendation from their corps commanders for their dash and energy.

On the 23d, the 3d and 5th Corps pushed northward to the level of Bantheville. While we continued to press forward and throw back the enemy's violent counter attacks with great loss to him, a regrouping of our forces was under way for the final assault. Evidences of loss of morale by the enemy gave our men more confidence in attack and more fortitude in enduring the fatigue of incessant effort and the hardships of very inclement weather.

With comparatively well-rested divisions, the final advance on the Meuse-Argonne front was begun on Nov. 1. Our increased artillery force acquitted itself magnificently in support of the advance, and the enemy broke before the determined infantry, which, by its persistent fighting of the past weeks and the dash of this attack, had overcome his will to resist. The 3d Corps took Ancreville, Doulcon, and Andevanne, and the 5th Corps took Landres et St. Georges and pressed through successive lines of resistance to Bayonville and Chennery. On the 2d, the 1st Corps joined in the movement, which now became an impetuous onslaught that could not be stayed.

On the 3d, advance troops surged forward in pursuit, some by motor trucks, while the artillery pressed along the country roads close behind. The 1st Corps reached Authe and Chatillon-sur-Bar, the 5th Corps, Fosse and Nouart, and the 3d Corps, Halles, penetrating the enemy's line to a depth of twelve miles. Our large-calibre guns had advanced and were skillfully brought into position to fire upon the important lines at Montmedy, Longuyon, and Conflans. Our 3d Corps crossed the Meuse on the 5th, and the other corps, in the full confidence that the day was theirs, eagerly cleared the way of machine guns as they swept northward, maintaining complete co-ordination throughout. On the 6th, a division of the 1st Corps reached a point on the Meuse opposite Sedan, twenty-five miles from our line of departure. Their strategical goal which was our highest hope was gained. We had cut the enemy's main line of communications, and nothing but surrender or an armistice could save his army from complete disaster.

In all forty enemy divisions had been used against us in the Meuse-Argonne battle. Between Sept. 26 and Nov. 6 we took 26,059 prisoners and 468 guns on this front. Our divisions engaged were the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, 26th, 28th, 29th, 32d, 33d, 35th, 37th, 42d, 77th, 78th, 79th, 80th, 82d, 89th, 90th, and 91st. Many of our divisions remained in line for a length of time that required nerves of steel, while others were sent in again after only a few days of rest. The 1st, 5th, 26th, 42d, 77th, 80th, 89th, and 90th were in the line twice. Although some of the divisions were fighting their first battle, they soon became equal to the best.

On the three days preceding Nov. 10, the 3d, the 2d Colonial, and the 17th French Corps fought a difficult struggle through the Meuse hills south of Stenay and forced the enemy into the plain. Meanwhile, my plans for further use of the American forces contemplated an advance between the Meuse and the Moselle in the direction of Longwy by the First Army, while, at the same time, the Second Army should assume the offensive toward the rich coal fields of Briey. These operations were to be followed by an offensive toward Chateau-Salins east of the Moselle, thus isolating Metz. Accordingly, attacks on the American front had been ordered, and that of the Second Army was in progress on the morning of Nov. 11 when instructions were received that hostilities should cease at 11 o'clock A.M.

At this moment the line of the American sector, from right to left, began at Port-sur-Seille, thence across the Moselle to Vandieres and through the Woevre to Bezonvaux, in the foothills of the Meuse, thence along to the foothills and through the northern edge of the Woevre forests to the Meuse at Mouzay, thence along the Meuse connecting with the French under Sedan.

Co-operation among the Allies has at all times been most cordial. A far greater effort has been put forth by the allied armies and staffs to assist us than could have been expected. The French Government and Army have always stood ready to furnish us with supplies, equipment, and transportation, and to aid us in every way. In the towns and hamlets wherever our troops have been stationed or billeted the French people have everywhere received them more as relatives and intimate friends than as soldiers of a foreign army. For these things words are quite inadequate to express our gratitude. There can be no doubt that the relations growing out of our associations here assure a permanent friendship between the two peoples. Although we have not been so intimately associated with the people of Great Britain, yet their troops and ours when thrown together have always warmly fraternized. The reception of those of our forces who have passed through England and of those who have been stationed there has always been enthusiastic. Altogether it has been deeply impressed upon us that the ties of language and blood bring the British and ourselves together completely and inseparably.