Crawford County, Indiana - Chapter 22, 1926

Anyone taking a steamboat ride down the beautiful Ohio from Louisville will remember a bend called the Horseshoe. At its beginning down in behind some hills on a little bottom is Leavenworth, Indiana. Here a few years ago in a small court house was located the county seat of Crawford County. At this time William S. Ross, Sr., was clerk for eight years. During his term a boy was born, a junior. The home was directly upon the banks of the river. His mother was May Conn, a daughter of Albert Conn, who was a musician of much ability and a bandmaster under General Lew Wallace. When the term of office expired the family moved to a farm near Milltown. Here the boy, always interested in history, grew up. His dreams were always of soldiers and biographies of men who had done things in all walks of life. And the World War came.

So many people have come in direct contact with this past war that it is only natural for them to want to know about it. Practically everything so far told and written has been upon what has been seen, the political side, the people of Europe and other countries involved, that it may be better to write upon something a little dif- ferent. Mothers, fathers, sisters, sweethearts, friends and near relatives surely are wondering what are some of the inner thoughts of the boys. What struggles within themselves did they have to overcome to do such wonderful things and keep the good old American smile on their faces known the world over? The smile that wouldn't come off. The smile that was on their face when they told Mother good-bye and ''Never to worry, Mother, I'll come back. First I must be a man at whatever cost.''

Men either went by volunteering or by selection. But either way there was a fight within one's self. The papers were full of awful slaughters, of the powerful guns that could shoot so far and burst with such frightful destruction. Of course such would make anyone feel afraid. The time to go came. Many boys had a chance for deferred classification, but how many took advantage of it compared to the number that went? This was something that had to be decided. Very few made any appeal for it. Ama coward and an American, too? No, the two do not go hand in hand. So off to camp I go.

After reporting at the local board in a case like this and giving your oath, troop trains were sent along to take you away. How many people, if they had not known where their boys were going, would have ever guessed by the boys' actions? Before I left home I thought I was going to war, yet long before I reached camp I had a hard time trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to a picnic. We sang, shouted and waved at every one along the way, had good eats backed up by a ravenous appetite. Long before we were ready we arrived at Camp Sherman, Ohio, June 24th.

Everybody out! As I was captain of the boys from our county I had to see that all were present, hand in my papers and fall in a rookie. We were lined up single file, marched past a place where ponchos were thrown at us, not handed to us, ordered to be quick, lugged along our grips and led into a building where army doctors soon examined our throats to see that we had no diphtheria. Out of here we went to our barracks for our first inspection of our belongings to see that no one had any firearms nor booze. None was found on any of the thirty-two Crawford County boys. And after a few remarks by the commissioned officer in charge we were told to shift for ourselves, line up - everything was line up from start to finish - get a steel cot, then a straw tick, and our two army blankets, and go to bed. Good thing it wasn't go to sleep, because we didn't have much of that. At eleven o'clock the lights were put out and everyhing got so still and strange that it seemed as if the very stillness itself would crush you. And your heart beats were so strong you often imagined being moved by them around the room. And thoughts of Mother, and boyhood days so dear and all your ones at home and I'm wondering and hoping Mother is all right and that she is not crying herself to sleep, for I know she is. No thoughts of the picnic now. Finally some waves of sleep and we knew no more till next morning.

Everybody up. Fall in outside. You're in the army now. Reveille. Fall in. Company, attention! Reveille over. Follow me, shake a leg, get you a mess kit and get your chow. Talk about mixed feed and spilling coffee and being awkward, a fellow felt like he never could learn how to handle his outfit. Chow over, every boy had to do his own washing of his kit and that funny feeling of being able to do everything for himself. Put your mess kit away and everybody be ready to fall out in five minutes. What next? Another company who had been there a short time knew what was coming. Wait till you get that shot! Oh, man! They faint and they drag them out up there. You'll never go through it. And on the way boys would kid us. Feed that straw hat to the mules. Nobody was in step and we all went hooching along just any old way trying to keep together as best we could. Three shots and three vaccinations within three weeks with many a sick boy and with chasing around to various army departments we were then assigned to regular regiments, given our khaki, began the real change from a civilian into an American soldier. Two of the boys and myself were put into the Engineers. I was in B company for a while and attached to the band. Later I was transferred to headquarters and in the mounted section, trained for scouting, night patrol, road mapping and landscape sketching.

A seout to be successful must be quick, not easily lost, and good in a hand to hand fight with bayonet or trench knives, for it is against orders to fire his gun, and he must get his information and get back to headquarters with it as soon as possible. He must be able to withstand all kinds of hardships and not be fatigued. He must draw maps of pikes and railroads, giving their names and direction, blow up bridges or find a place where one can be built. Make a landscape sketch of the country, showing woods, valleys, or hills, and indicate positions for infantry, artillery or where cavalry can maneuver. In the daytime he must travel'on the high places so as to see and not be

520 HISTORY OF CRAWFORD COUNTY seen. At night he must keep off of the high places so as not to silhouette his body to the sky and be seen by the enemy. He must not come out of a wooded place the same as where he entered unless he wishes to be captured by a lurking enemy scout. He may be either mounted or on foot. Sometimes he is ordered to go into the enemy trenches, capture two or three men, and do it with the least noise possible. There may be not more than two or three men with him to do it. In this way different scouting parties along the line will be able to find out how many divisions are opposing your front. It is often necessary to lie in one place a long time or to crawl along only by the use of your arms and wiggling your body, for you must take the other side by surprise and before they can give the alarm.

One, two, three and four you heard everywhere all over the camp. The boys were given practice marches, bayonet. work, moving pictures for squad formation and how to obey commands without hesitation, athletics, such as boxing to be quick, same as in baseball, running and wrestling for endurance, pontoon building and tearing down for speed, and practise at the rifle range where practically every boy soon could hit a bull's eye whether at a hundred or six hundred yards, whether slow fire or rapid fire, when he must put in ten shots in a minute.

Every boy was carefully taught how to roll a nice neat pack and especially how to wear his gas mask. Inspections were held every week to see that all rifles were kept free from rust and dust, physical inspections to see that your teeth were sound and clean, your hair cut properly and your body kept fit for a soldier to do the best that was in him; bunk inspection to see that you kept your equipment there in first class order and had no uninvited ''ouests'' who might annoy you when you should sleep sound, cooties, I guess.

'*When do we go from here? I want to go somewhere, anywhere; this is killing me,'' you heard every day now. '"Some one said we would get our O. D. S. soon. We'll get to move right away. They can't move too soon for me.'' And we did move. August 24th troop trains began moving in for us and we were up long before sunrise rolling packs and wondering what the future held for us. You never know in the army one minute what you have to do the next, for all moves are kept secret as near as possible. You get a sharp command to ''fall in.'' You yank up your pack like it weighs about a pound, thinking something's doing; get ready to move out right away. Stand there for about fifteen minutes strictly at attention. Then you get another order ''at ease,'' but do not remove packs. Search me what is meant at ease with that pack. ''Company, attention!'' ''Forward march! Halt!'' You stand then another fifteen minutes. Some officer looks around, says ''at ease."' Another five minutes. ''Company, attention!'' Another ten minutes. You don't move a peg. ''Halt! Rest! Fali out! but don't lose your formation. Unsling packs; we may be here for ten minutes!'' You fall out, unsling packs, let out a big puff of relief and get ready to rest. About the time a minute has passed and you get comfortably fixed, order comes, ''Sling packs!. Fall in! Company, attention! Forward hooch!'' You circle around about half a mile to get in line with your train which is only a hundred feet away. The ones in the last squads have to run to take up the slack of the front ones. You are halted and you feel like your pack weighs a ton, for you have your whole home with you. Your rifle and bayonet and scabbard, your belt, your cante. , full of water, your mess kit, knife, fork and spoon and drinking cup; rolled up in your shelter half you have your blanket, one or two suits of underwear, an extra shirt, three or four pairs of socks, hairbrush and comb, soap, two towels, toothbrush and paste, shaving outfit, extra shoe laces, a can of dubbin for your shoes; outside you have your raincoat, overcoat, extra pair of hobnails and then should you happen to be unlucky enough you had your gas mask and hel- 'met before you crossed. If you thought then you didn't have enough along for your comfort, you might get a lunch or any other articles yo. wanted to carry. Some say it weighs eighty-five pounds. ~ think their guess might possibly be wrong. First you star. on one foot like a stork, then on the other, then both; maybe you can hook your rifle under it some way till it falls down; then you lean over, thinking maybe that will help some. By this time some embarkation officer has checked the count and you think you are surely ready to get on the train. It is now eleven o'clock and you started out at eight o'clock in the morning and you look and there's your barracks not over a hundred and fifty feet away from the train! The cars before you fill slowly and finally your time comes. You file in, bumping every door or seat as you go along till you find your place. You let all holds loose, unloosen your things, your pack goes one way, your canteen another, your knife and fork and spoon rattle out, your rifle falls over in a corner, your bayonet scabbard and belt go just the opposite and you come pretty near letting out a big whoop. I'll tell you just one thing you do think, ''Down with the kaiser, the cuss that caused me all this trouble.'' And that's letting yourself off rather easily.

On our trip we went through Columbus, Ohio. At Cleveland the Red Cross greeted us with good things that brought again to us home ties and again at Buffalo. Sunday we rode for thirty-five miles along Lake Seneca and at noon in Sayre, Pennsylvania, our officers allowed us an hour's layover where we took a swim in the Susquehanna River which brought back to us happy remembrances of boyhood days. It gave us relief from cramped limbs and better thoughts for the remainder of our ride. The rest of the Valley trip was over the mountains and through the Lehigh Valley, revealing scenery that many of us had never seen before and we were constantly on the lookout for new sights. Monday morning we awoke in Jersey City, marched a short distance, loaded on several different ferry boats and were taken under some of New York's big bridges over to Long Island, boarded a train and went out to Camp Mills for a short stay of ten days. While here we were called out for battalion parades, given a few extra touches on our training, and practically every man in the regiment had a chance for a forty-eight hour pass to New York or adjoining cities. Many took their first dip at the beaches as most of our boys were from Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois or Ohio.

Now was to come our first big adventure. The submarines were doing a horrible business and there is nothing pleasant about a watery grave. As usual the boys were eager to be on the move and our spirits were higher than ever when on September 8, on Sunday morning, we had orders to roll packs and police up our tents and leave them clean and in order for the next to come. We went back practically the same route as before by train and ferry boats to Hoboken where the Red Cross (we'll never forget it) was ready for us with its cakes and sandwiches like at home, and hot chocolate, showing us. the ones at home were with us to the very last. Here we were given two cards each, one to send to Mother and one for our sweetheart or wife. Thoughts of home came back to us and all those near and dear, and while I did not see a tear, our hearts were laden and sad; the boys suddenly became quieter and hardly anyone spoke because every soldier knew what the other lad had on his mind. The order was given to get in line single file about four o'clock and the ones at the head of the line began slowly going up the gangplank of an English boat, the Scandinavian. It did not look big at all when you thought about it and the miles of salt water, and of the freedom of our lives heretofore. Here we were ready to be cooped up like so many animals and probably just as helpless in the face of those terrible instruments of war, the torpedoes. Can we stand it with barely elbow room? It was a jam for an hour or more and a long wait for orders until the officers got us straightened out as to our bunking place. This boat had no arrangement for space. Everything seemed to be in the way of everything else. Most of us were to sleep in hammocks, one soldier's head one way and the one next to you with his head the same direction as your feet and every fellow's hammock butted up against that of his buddy. When the time for chow came there was such a congestion that you could only go in one direction for the mess hall, and as no system for going had been arranged, many of us got nothing but the smell. Ill tell you there is some difference in cooking and we never did get used to that difference while going over. The boat remained anchored that night. The next morning, the ninth day of the ninth month, at the ninth hour, we felt our boat making a slight movement and all that could rushed to either side to find we were slowly moving away. All the boys were watching the Statue of Liberty to bid her good-bye and to breathe to her to keep good watch while we were away. As we went steaming slowly out other ships began to move, to go either ahead of us or to follow behind. Little submarine chasers were running swiftly here and there. Aeroplanes were eoing in all directions, first away ahead and then back of us and directly over us to keep on the, watchout for any tricks the submarines might have planned for us. You could searcely feel any motion of the ship so slowly did it move, and it was not until about five o'clock that we lost sight of land. Then it was that you felt like you were entirely forsaken and hopelessly lost. The lonesomeness that came over all of the boys made them talk barely above a whisper. We looked till our eyes were worn out for the last little speck of the U. 8S. A. We could no longer hear the whirring of the aeroplanes for they had now turned back, and that made it so much stiller. It was not long till darkness would be upon us. The port holes would all have to be closed soon. There must be no lights whatever upon deck, and no one would even be allowed to strike a match or smoke for fear it would be seen. The only consolation we had, and it helped more than anything, there were sixteen ships, including chasers and one battleship, all going together and working for the same end - to cross the ocean and make it in safety. Every soldier must always have his lifebelt on to be ready at any minute in ease his ship was hit and in a sinking condition. But should a transport be hit all the other boats must get away out of danger as soon as possible. This seems like abandoning the boys to their fate, yet it was the safest plan for the largest number of boys to save those on the other transports. The chasers would come to our rescue. They darted here and there and can make time almost like a passenger train. They were better armed and could move.so they could hardly be hit by a torpedo. All this time the boys were wondering how submarines could be prevented from coming up and sinking us any time they wished. Every sailor that night had a bunch around him asking him a thousand questions as to how it could be done. We found out that it took a submarine nine minutes after coming to the top and sending off its torpedo, to submerge again. By this time some one on watch would sight it and a well aimed shot would put an end to the submarine. Just about dark the transports began blowing their mournful whistles for the purpose of getting signals for the night and we thought why in the world are they doing that; theyll be calling every submarine for miles around to pay us a visit. Do you hardly think you would have a pleasant night's sleep? Strange to say, the night time is the safer, although your feelings stoutly denied that. The eye of the submarine is no good without sunlight. The periscope can not be used for there must be rays to be reflected. As a result the submarine must run on the

The next day the most exciting thing was Hooverizing. And so it went on during all of the voyage, some of the boys were daily breaking Hoover's kind admonition. Yet no one was arrested or put in the brig. People at home were saving and doing all they could to win the war. Here and there you would see some standing like a statue but hardly the same color in the face. Most were yellow or dark green. Try as they would they couldn't do it. They had sto go back on Hoover. ''Save food and Hooverize. Two bits he comes.'' The seasick soldier would look daggers at you as though it were not safe for anyone near. All over and a smile.all over his face. '' Ah boys, she's tough, but I'm feeling fine now."'

The same routine lasted during the entire crossing. First thing, chow. Then the ship must be cleaned. Next came exercise and time off for rest till noon. Chow again. Possibly fire drill and boat drill for manning and lowering the boats should we be hit. During outside hours the boys talked, forming new acquaintances, read what few books they could find, letters to loved ones and lined up at the ship's canteen for oranges, apples, candies until the supply was exhausted or their money was all spent. It seemed nothing to eat could satisfy us. About five o'clock chow once more. The eleventh day out just at dusk the battleship left us and we were supposed to be met by another one from the fleet around Europe. By some mishap no ship came until the last day. This caused considerable

The night of the twelfth day the waves dashed so high they went over the sides of our ship and no one could stay on deck. The ship would go up and down some twenty or thirty feet and at times it seemed that your body did not want to be assembled. Your stomach wanted to go up when the ship went down, your head felt like it was tight, and your seadog legs wanted to go right through your body when the ship was going up and abandon your body at other motions of the vessel. To relieve this we piled in our hammocks, 'anging on a 'ook, as our English sailors say it. Later the lights went out below and finally we could sleep.

About four o'clock next morning some one yelled ''Land! Land! I believe I see the coast of Ireland!'' So it later proved to be. All day our convoy slowly steamed along the Irish coast. What a great relief to see good old soil once more, even though we were looking the biggest part of the day at nothing but rugged chalk cliffs. As luck would have it, it was my time for lookout duty and I was stationed on the mate's cabin to watch for ''subs.'' Some chasers thought they had sighted one and eleven shots were fired some distance behind us, but we never learned what the result was. From my post I could see in all directions. This was a source of much pleasure to me because we were now going between Scotland and Ireland, the sights here proving to be the most beautiful of any I was to see. The climate here is mild so much of the time and the air so damp and foggy that practically all of the land is green with grass, even the very steep slopes except where there is solid rocks. The fences are so arranged that the slopes leading from the channel look 'like a great checkerboard with here a green field and next to it a golden one where rye had just been cut. Down at the very edge of the water were castles that I called dream castles. Bobbing here and there were small sail boats skimming along on the water. The boys were once more gay and making merry as if going to a picnic sure enough. No one could think of war in such an enticing atmosphere. We were now nearing the Clyde River and our boats had to go in single file, for we had come to nets which went across to keep the submarines out. We now knew we were going to Glasgow. Part of the convoy had left us to go to Liverpool, England. Night soon came on and we were very sorry we were unable to see anything while going up the river. The next morning when we awoke we were tied up at the wharf of Glasgow, Scotland.

We lay here until about two o'clock in the afternoon. As we walked down the gangplank every soldier was given a letter of welcome from King George of England. After a short hike we boarded our first passenger train with those funny little coaches which we later found could make pretty good time. We rode south through cities like Carlisle, the outskirts of London, and the next day at eleven o'clock began a march for our camp outside of Winchester, England, at Camp Wembledown. Neither at camp nor on the train were any lights allowed at night. While here we were allowed no privileges outside. On the third day we were once more on the move for Southampton. Just before dark we began moving out of the harbor for our trip across the English Channel. This time we were in no convoy. Our's was a steamboat built in the U. S. A. in 1872, which was now run by the British and guarded by some chasers. The channel was as usual very choppy. While in Southampton we were considerably sobered by our first sight of the wounded being unloaded from hospital ships. Now the crossing was a second dose. We could see nothing and could hear nothing save the steady pounding of our boat's powerful engines and the splashing of the waves. Two-thirds of the boys couldn't hold on to their stomachs. About ten o'clock while upon deck I had piled down on a settee near the rail and gone to sleep. Some one woke me by leaning directly over my face and made a noise with every now and then quite an accent. Without trying to get up I said: ''Be careful there, Buddy.'' ''Oop! All right my Oop! - boy - Oop!: I won 't - Oop - get any of it - Oop-pon you.'' This was merely one incident. So many of them - Oopea - that you could scarcely walk up and down the stairs. By midnight all of us that could possibly pile down had found a place in the main passenger cabin, even though many slept in a sitting position or on one leg, some on shelves, and a few on a wiggly table. By one o'clock a wave too much for the table turned the whole bunch over on the floor. The boys under it were jerked back to life in a hurry by the crash.

The packs piled by it were all that saved the ones close by. Of course we all laughed to see so many sprawling around. But it didn't matter much, for the ones who had been on the table straightened it up again and crawled back just as if nothing had happened. By two o'clock that morning - but we didn't wake up to know - we had landed. At

And so this is France! First thing a hike to some camp - supposed to be a rest camp - we never did know where beforehand. As it was, we hiked quite a distance along the sea up a hill that we thought would never quit rising. The houses were as beautiful as one could wish to see had it not been for those houses on our backs. For what scemed to us some two hours we were still climbing and at last found plenty of mud where we could pile down in tents ready for us. Each squad was directed to its place, but orders were given not to unroll packs until told to do so. About one o'clock we ate our dinner and then an early supper when we were told to report back by eight o'clock. No lights were allowed in the open. Trenches were close by as this place had been attacked by air raids. Formation was called at ten o'clock with packs. No rest camp. By eleven o'clock we were once more on the go. We got our first taste of cobblestones marching down hill. The city seemed as if deserted, no lights, nobody to be seen anywhere. By one o'clock we had arrived at some railroad station. We were to have our first car ride in French box cars - box cars de luxe - eight horses or forty men - eight cheveux, forty hommes. And with our packs, our corn willy, canned tomatoes and canned beans, and a few loaves of bread there wasn't much extra space. Here was to be our domain for three days and almost four nights, but we didn't know it. When my time came to pile down my place was taken by an empty tomato box. The sliding door was shut and the train moving and no place to put the box. What else could a fellow do but give the box a sling and let somebody else take care of it. A little sling sent it to one end of the ear. Some sleepy fellow mumbled out: 'Who throwed that box?'' Nobody answered. Ile passed it on. The next stuttered: ''How'd this box get here?'' On he passed it and eracked some one on the head. So it went on for about three hours until about everyone had been hit by it, while I lay there laughing to myself. One would say: ''Why, here's that box. I don't want it." Another would yell: ''Here's that old box again. I'll bet it's hit me fifty times. I don't want the old thing.'' Everyone of them was too sleepy and tired to throw it outside. The last I knew before going to sleep it was still making the rounds. Sometimes we could get off the train, make a rush for a coffee canteen and get back on. We soon lost our seadog legs. When the time came to get out on the fourth night we were pretty stiff. We had passed through Versailles and on almost to Bordeaux. We got off at a little place called St. Astier. As we started out we thought we would rest in that town but we went around and around for a while, got on the wrong road, had to retrace our steps and finally started out in the country. Every time we came to a little village of two or three houses we felt surely this is the place. On we would go till finally at twelve o'clock we reached a little town called St. Germain, to be billeted with the French. My bed was in what was once an old monastery, in a basement upon some solid conerete where it was plenty damp and cold after my being so sweaty.

This was to be our final training for the front. Part of the division soon left for there. Here we got our first taste of French life. In less than three weeks we moved out in the country, because many of the boys were dying of the flu. The boys cut pine boughs to put upon the ground, put ferns upon these and with our two blankets each, two men in a pup tent had a little home to themselves. This wasn't so bad, but we were put on quarter rations now, and having no letters from home since September 9th, made us a little more serious. We never could get any direct news from the front, only hearsay and that was very unreliable. About the second week in October our Colonel told us the war would end in less than ninety days, yet we wouldn't believe it. During this same month we received three orders to go to the front. For some unknown reason these were changed. We supposed it was on account of the fiu. Our scouting work went on, our bayonet training to be ready at any moment. For over five weeks we stayed at St. Germain and this country camp which we call Thistle Hill. . Mail time was our happiest. We wrote home always telling them to write and keep on writing even when they did not hear from us. Mail above everything else. We didn't want them to send us candy, nor cakes, nor sweaters; what we wanted was mail and letters are what will keep us happy.

The first week in November we moved again. Made a march of twelve kilometers and didn't know any better than that this time we were going to the front. We thought anything was better than to remain in one place. I never heard one American soldier say he wasn't ready to go up. Instead we moved by train from a town, Mussidan, through Nantes to St. Nazaire and were ordered to Montoir, a little town some four miles away, where there were sixteen miles of warehouses. Here on November 11 we heard for sure that the armistice had been signed. Well, I imagine the people in U.S. A. had a bigger jubilee than we did. We didn't know what to think of it. Of course we were glad, but we couldn 't hardly believe ourselves.

Although the war had ended, our work, being engineers, was not finished. We had hospitals to build for those who could not be sent home just yet. Two companies were sent to Savenay at a big base hospital there to put up more barracks. Two companies were sent to Brest to do work about the docks. Provisions still had to be sent out and many of our men were kept busy keeping the roads in repair for big heavy army trucks. Some of the time our boys guarded German and Austrian prisoners who did much of this work. Times were better for us now for we were at a permanent camp. Then we got our first overseas furlough. Most of us went to St. Malo on the English Channel. Here you could see many curios. This is a walled city and I saw some of the timbers that were in one of the ships of Cartier when he sailed up the St. Lawrence River. Old time armor, muskets, swords, daggers and bows and arrows as used by the English at one time. This place and others near Divard are great resorts for, English as well as Americans in civil life. Mt. St. Michel is a wonderful monastery built upon a high rock which used to be an island. Parts of it were built in 1200 and are still standing.

Our next furlough gave us permission to see much of the battle front. Many of us went by Paris, Chateau Thierry,. Soissons, Rheims, Chalons-sur-Marne, Verdun, Toul, Nancy, Metz and other cities along that line. Most of our interest centered around Chateau Thierry, for here it was our American boys first started the Hun back on his homeward run which he never stopped until the finish of the war. Verdun with its underground citadel gave us much to wonder about and its strong underground forts which the Germans never could pass. Paris is a great art city, with all its great paintings and history connected with it. The Hiffel tower can be seen anywhere in the city. The Ferris Wheel is known the world over. The palace at Versailles can never be forgotten. Rheims had only fifteen houses standing, when before the war there were enough to shelter 150,000 people. And so it was all along the front, one ruin after another. Anyone seeing these French people taking heart after all this surely would be strengthened by it. Everywhere you could go they would be building up their homes again. While out in the country in Belleau Wood a party of us stopped at a farm house to get a drink. The lady told us how they had to leave and go to Paris during the battle. She no longer had a husband and had lost two sons. She was left with just a little daughter of five and a boy of seven, yet she was going ahead trying to do what she could. Most of them would say, ''It is war.''

I have never heard a soldier say he was in favor of universal military training. Why should we take up just what we have been fighting against? Isn't this the very thing that brought us over here? Ask the boys and they will tell you it was the officers who needed the training and they all say if this country wants to do anything in the line of training let Uncle Sam train more officers. The enlisted men can do their part.

aeroplanes. A private was asked why he didn't get under cover in a dugout. ''I did try,"' he said. ''I rushed as fast as I could, but when I got to the entrance I couldn't get in. Why? It was full of officers and second lieutenants."

Very few soldiers were ever able to find acquaintances while overseas. In many instances boys from the same home went in the same outfit, but when otherwise, a soldier was not likely to see anyone else he knew. Soldiers look so much alike that you wouldn't know an old friend unless you came face to face with him. I never passed a soldier unless I looked directly at him, yet I never ran across anyone I knew in my eleven months across. The divisions were scattered so much. Men, men, men everywhere. Any place you went, big city, little city, town, village and every cow path in France was trod by them. Any time you saw an American uniform you always felt free to ask for any information, and no matter how big a hurry, you got it. This is a courtesy known only by soldiers.

I will now invite you to go in a tent of fifers and drummers. Snoozing time - best in the world along about 5:30 in the morning by the watch, which is set one hour fast, so you see it is really 4:30; and then this time is about six hours faster than ours. Along comes someone outside to wake us. Oh, Sarge, time to get up! Just fifteen minutes. All right. Sarge then calls Parker. I'm awake, Sarge. Parker speaks gently to Jewell. Jewell! No answer. Jewell! a little louder. Jewell! Jewell! Jewell turns over. Soon Parker yells, Oh, Jewell! Get up! Jewell laughs and says he's been awake all the time. Anderson answers to his call. Roney does. Some one tells Paul its time to get out. He grunts a little and says ''I'm belavin' I'm going to be sick some 0' this days - I think I sleep some more.'' From outside comes another eall, everybody out. Only five minutes. Hurry up, fellows. All jump into their clothes and are out in about three minutes. The boys make their round like the buglers to waken the camp, noisily banging on their drums to the tune of '' Hail! Hail! the Gang's All Here.'' Reveille over - all rush for their mush and bacon and eat it like its good. Back to the tent. "'I wonder when its going to quit raining. I'll be glad when we get out of this hole. I wish it would quit raining."' You see it had only been raining every day for sixty days. "'T believe I'd rather have some mail from home than anything in this whole world outside of anything else. I know. What time is it? When do we eat?'' One fellow says he's learning the book of rules on the army. (1) Never. talk back to your superior officers. (2) Never ask any questions. (3) Never volunteer for anything. (4) Always keep your bowels open. This covers a multitude. The other day I heard about a fellow who had the headache, rheumatism in his right shoulder, his left leg thrown out of socket and a few minor scratches too trivial to mention. When he was brought before the doctors and pill rollers they merely said: ''Give him a C. ©. pill and paint him with iodine. Next!'' It really did seem that iodine would cure all diseases incident to humanity by the way it was used. One of the boys said he had a dream last nighf, so they all listened to him. He had made a trip to visit the President back in Washington, D. C. Without any trouble whatever he was ushered in to see the first man of the land. Upon entering it seemed that this soldier was a little wabbly. There was something wrong with his legs between his knees and ankles. Upon looking down he saw that he wasn't as tall as usual and he had an extra ball and socket joint between his knee and ankle. He was walking on this joint part of the time and his feet were dragging along behind him. He faced the President and stood at attention who said: ''Arise, my brave young American soldier from overseas and state the purpose of your visit. You're at ease.'' Trying to rise with such legs, joints swinging in any and all directions was indeed a thing worthy, so after just a momentary pause he succeeded in saying these few terse words: ''Sir, Mr. President, if you will allow me, I am sorry to say I can not agree with you about your visit to Europe. I am afraid it will get us into entangling alliances which will lead to serious future trouble. It is something no President in office has ever done before. You will please remember what George Washington said about it.'' By this time the soldier had a chance to notice the effect of what he had said to our President. He noticed slippers upon his feet and the round old-fashioned footstool made of tomato cans and covered with carpet near his rocking-chair, his vest was only buttoned at the top button. Why, the, President wasn't shaved. He hadn't even polished up that day at all. Just then the tears began to roll down the President's face. This soldier boy happening to look up saw standing near, Miss Margaret. She said quietly to him: ''My brave young man, you need not let it bother you. Paw has't been feeling very well here lately anyhow.'' Just a dream! Everybody out for chow. With a whoop and rattle and bang all the boys rushed out to get in line for eats.

Finally word came to our section of the camp that we were really on the sailing list for home. The first night the boys put on a regular parade. From all directions you could hear some one yell: ''I want to go home.'' The officers told us if we didn't quit that they would keep the last one of us in France. Then the boys thought for a change they would have a little turnout and put on a parade of their own. A bunch of them hunted up some red flaring costumes like troopers and led the outfit. Two were dressed like clowns and rode two mules which they managed some way to put overalls on. Three boys carried a big design of the Statue of Liberty. Four of the fellows carried a soldier draped in a blanket to represent the end of our stay in France. The band and the fife and drum corps made little music and much noise. Around and around the streets of our area we went yelling and singing and assembled on the drill grounds in a circle to hear jokes, see some weird dances, listen to speeches or anything funny the boys could think of. Such a happy bunch of soldiers would be hard to find.

June 30 really found us on a good American ship, the Walter A. Luckenback. She left France J uly Ist and reached New York the afternoon of July 11th. From now on we did not notice sights much. Our hearts were full to overflowing for a sight of our homes. Before leaving them we had had some awful struggles within ourselves. All the things came crowding upon our minds of the awful carnage and of the lives lost and the horror of the frightful guns; many having to leave a mother alone, it was enough to make one afraid. But that would never do; it would be a disgrace and a stain upon one's name forever. Thou- sands had a chance for deferred classification. A definite course had to be decided upon. When once done one would become calm and a changed person. Here it is: ''I am coming back. I am looking for funny things everywhere. I feel that I can go into battle, do anything and not be killed.''? And it is wonderful what this did. <All fear passed away never to return again. The time came to say good-bye to home folks and it was said without a tear. There were only smiles for them. You can imagine how much easier it was for them. It wasn't a case of being hard-hearted. Oh, no. And has the war brutalized our boys? Absolutely it has not. Ask one, as a soldier, and see how quick he is to do something for you. The boys are broadened. Life holds for them a better insight into the other man's life. They know how to give and take and do it cheerfully. So the boys took with them and brought back with them something that shall never wear off, something that is known the world over, the smile of the American soldier.

The English and the French had tried out heavy cast steel on their tanks, but the German guns had cracked them like walnuts. It fell to the Americans to bring forth a steci that was to prove successful in tank warfare. An ore discovered in Colorado was just what was needed. The new steel which was molybdenum steel was pressed into sheets just a little thicker than a quarter of an inch. The French and English laughed at the thickness but it was of tough material and could not be eracked ag had been the case with their heavier tanks. A machine gun could only make a blister on it and it took a German one-pounder making a direct hit to pierce it which did not often happen.

The American Army called for volunteers so that every state in the Union would be represented. One of these boys was no other than Corporal Frank Elliott of our own Crawford County, then in the Sixty-fifth English Corps. Ile thought if other boys could go he could do anything they could. Frank was then at Camp Taylor, Kentucky. On Iebruary 20, 1918, he left for Camp Meade, Maryland. left Camp Meade on the 23rd. Marched for New York. There he boarded the Olympic for a fourteen days' trip to Kingland. Ile was sent to Lullworth, England, and transferred to the Thirty-first Ileavy Tank Corps when his outfit trained for five months for the big drive.

There were many things a tank had to be equipped with in order to be efficient. There were big wide trenches to cross, muddy places to pull out of and barbed wire to smash. Hvery tank carried with them a vesene which was placed across a trench too wide to cross, in case a tank ready to be drawn around on track to catch in mud and yank it out. As to barb wire, guns were used as well as having the tank powerful enough to ride it down.

In the first big drive there were fourteen heavy tanks twenty-eight feet long by eight feet wide manned by a corporal and seven soldiers. Each man had an assigned duty, yet must in ease of loss of a comrade be able to do anything. Some tanks were called male and some female. The male carried French seventy-fives and the female, machine guns. These guns were mounted in sponsings in order to move guns in any position. On top

In order to get tanks up ready for battle they were moved at night and hid in day time. The American patrols would go ahead using a white tape line so tanks could see it to follow. The tanks were to make an attack on a seven hundred yard front. This placed the tanks about fifty yards apart. Sometimes the German patrols would slip out in the dark, move these tape lines and fool our patrols as they knew the country better. A time or two they caused some of the tanks to move fifty or sixty feet of German trenches. The Germans knew these tanks were getting ready for a drive but probably thought they could capture them.

But the Americans beat them to the zero hour. Up till the time set the boys felt uneasy. As soon as in battle this feeling left. Boys who felt like they were going to get bumped off generally got it. Cambrai Drive, September 29, 1918, at 5:40 a..m., a large gun boomed out a signal to the Allies to begin the great barrage. These big guns shot just a short distance ahead of the tanks. The shells were shot up overhead in the shape of an arch. This fire was so continuous and heavy as to cause the Germans to keep down in dugouts and trenches. The fire of shells is then sent farther and farther on to tear up as much barbed wire entanglements and put out of commission as many guns of Germans as possible. A time and distance is set for each advance and then repeated again. The barrage had begun, the big tanks moved forward, with the infantry behind them. The time had come to break the famous Hindenburg Line. The tanks rode down the barbed wire so the infantry could get through. The Germans came out of trenches and hand to hand fighting started. One German got on top of Frank's tank and threw in a hand grenade which exploded and was filled with pieces of iron something like brads in a window. The boys made quick work of him with their 45's and trench knives. As they advanced a German got in the way of their tank and they mashed him as flat ag a flap-jack. The tank at the left was struck with a large shell and six of the boys were killed. A tank on the right was struck by a tracer bullet, a bullet to set things on fire, the gas caught and burned all three of the boys. Tanks kept advancing until they came to a great trench which was of concrete eighteen inches thick, about twelve feet wide and six feet deep. The boys took a wheel, or what they called a vesene, which was on top of the tanks and placed it in the trench so the tanks could cross. It served as a bridge. This battle lasted about three hours. Frank's tank was put out of running order and had to be left on the field until the Germans were driven back far enough so that it could be repaired. Most generally the army making an advance loses most men. In this battle the 'Americans lost ten men to the Germans one. So many of our boys of the infantry were killed that there were two rows of them piled eight feet high and an eighth of a mile long. The rule of the tanks was to keep in the tank a wounded comrade as long as possible; if dead, bury him with part of tank plate as a marker.

Corporal Frank Elliott was in five drives and under shell fire seventy days, from St. Quentin to Johnny Court eight miles, or in what was known as the big Cambrai drive.

Wainconrt October 10. Fourth drive October 17 at Businey. Fifth drive October 25, Le Quesney to Salty France. This time it was raining and at night. The boys had left their tanks and were in what is called a bell tent. The German aeroplanes had sighted the tanks and shelled them all night but did not hit them. Finally one did hit in a few feet of a tent and they went into a barn wading through mud half knee-deep. When out in the open the boys always moved into the newest shell-hole as the Germans would move the range of their big guns and that hole was the safest place.

No battle was as hot as the first one as the Germans were always from that time on on the retreat. Finally, November 11, the war was ended and no more shells came over. The biggest thing in view was home. Coming back through Marseilles by the Rock of Gibraltar best part on the President Wilson or what was formerly Kaiser Franz Joseph TI,

My company left about the middle of August for France. The weather was lovely on the seas as we went over. When our ship, which was the President Grant, entered the danger zone several submarines were sighted. One fired at our ship but missed us which in turn fired on the submarine. Men reported that bubbles of air were coming up to the surface which meant that the ship was sunk,

The city of Brest is a very old city. It is built on the hills overlooking the sea. The houses appear to be about five hundred years old, many of which are built of stone.

We soon went to a rest camp to get back our legs, for one knows that we weave much like the ship when we first' try to walk. After several days rest we set out for the front. The cars were much smaller than our's. My car had about fifty in it. The car had been full of quick lime. So when we piled down to sleep the lime soiled our clothes and almost ate our clothes threadbare.

When we landed at Saint Flourence it was about midnight. Three of the boys were sick. My squad was detailed to care for them while the rest of the company went out about three miles and lay down on the ground to sleep. My company soon found billets for the sick boys and then I crawled under part of the wall seat in a depot so that my face was protected from the other boys who might step into my face in the dark. There we lay and slept without any covers or pillows.

Next morning my squad had to hike out, carrying our load which consisted of our rifle, a pack and a box of corn winnies which weighed about seventy pounds. Our boys soon became tired of the box because it was so unhandy to carry. Letting it fall we bursted it open and divided up the load among our crowd. This helped us very much. A little later we found a supply train and stored our load in it. The trip was nineteen kilometers. The boys kept dropping out and lying down by the roadside till we reached

During our few days there I bathed in a little creek and ate our hardtack and a little greasy rice and a strip of bacon out of a fat hog. We were almost starving. Men said that the company needed provisions up where a big drive was on. We young men just went out and ''munched"' a little. That word means ''begged.'' The French would gather around us and give us eggs, meat and bread to eat when they were starving too. They would talk to us with all their might, but we could not understand a word they said.

In a few days my company was sent to the evacuation camp, from which we were to be sent to the trenches. At this camp there were hundreds of boys, but only four lnes through which the boys went to mess. Hence, each man had to be ready when the time came. The rations at best were rather slim, but we managed to get enough to eat. I happened to get acquainted with a big Indian named Bill Harlen. From him I learned many valuable lessons.

When we were loaded to go out to the lines, the men left at night so that we did not have to go up near the lines in daytime. When day came we found all sorts of trenches, shell holes and dugouts, but the enemy had been driven back several miles.

My company was east of the Nancy sector in the St. Mihiel sector. Here we joined the EHighty-ninth Division, Company I, of the 356th Infantry which had just come out of the trenches to have their ranks filled up and rest awhile. Men told me that they were in Alsace-Lorraine.

safe for the soldiers who came out to rest. During these days we were all over the woods. Here we found German shell-holes which were almost thirty feet deep. We found all kinds of wines in these holes which were deep down out of all danger of a shell fire.

After about three days we were lined up to go to the trenches near the Germans on the firing line. The men went in a single column a few at a time. There might be about fifteen in a single column and then a wide gap between this column and the next column. That way the Germans did not find at.one time a large bunch of men, lest '"« Jerry'' should send over one of his G. I. cans. About nine o'clock we decided that the Germans were throwing over too many gas bombs to enable us to get up to the line. The bombs made a shrill noise which one could hear a long distance. Our company came back about a mile and found a number of dugouts in which we were to sleep that night.

My corporal and I were unlucky. We lay out on the ground. JI wrapped my rain coat around me well and lay facing the east. That night it became cold. Later the rain fell.

Next morning we were routed out and had to run to the woods. We stayed in the trenches till about 9 o'clock when we were sent to the trenches on the firing line. By all means we were not to expose ourselves and keep quiet so that the Germans might not find us. So we stayed under cover of the underbrush.

My squad had to do guard duty. There were eight of us. We divided up the time so that each had to stay about two hours. When I went on guard it was about as dark as a stack of black eats, but as I had a wrist watch I did not stay any longer than my time. Our beat was a path through the woods. I soon learned to follow it well. I used to sit under a little ash tree when off duty. One day I was called out to help dig a communication trench. That day a bomb fell near where I was and just filled the air with dirt. A large shrapnel shell fell at the root of the ash causing a terrible concussion.

That night we were routed out about midnight and told to be ready to move quarters in short notice. We marched out till about daybreak. Then we were near the enemies. We were told to get into the woods and not let ourselves be seen out of the woods all day.

At night we were lined up to go into the trenches. I was one of the guides in the march. It was so dark that one could hardly see his hand before him. When we were out of the woods it became lighter so that we could see dead animals on all sides. Occasionally we stepped into a shell hole which almost jolted our head off. As I was getting out of a hole I smelt something which was terrible. I whispered '"gas,'' meaning it for a joke, but everyone kept whispering till everyone along the line pulled on their gas masks. Those in front could not keep up their pace with their gas masks on and the others crowded upon them till the whole crowd stopped. Then an officer came along and ordered them to take off their masks and proceed. He never knew that I was the one who started the rumor.

Finally we landed in the trenches and I was ordered to dig the rest of the night. The trenches were marked out in some places. In others they were about one foot deep. I did not eare whether I dug any or not. After a few min-

Next day I was still digging in the trenches when I noticed the Germans shooting at an aeroplane. They hit the plane when two Americans came out and ran before the tank exploded.

That night I got my gas. We had worked hard all day without any dinner, for they could not get any dinner up to us till night without getting the ''chow"' detail shot. About nightfall the chow detail brought us food. The cans were opened and our boys began to eat when suddenly the Germans set over some gas in a bomb. One shell came so near me that it knocked dirt all over me. I smelt gas and put on my mask, but since I had not shaved that day it did not fit so well. Next few minutes the general ordered all masks off, thinking it was a joke about the gas. The. next day the inspector found enough gas to put a man out of commission. There were nineteen out of two hundred and fifty who did not have to go to the hospital.

I thought that I was all right. I helped lay out so many of the boys who were deathly sick. About nine o'clock a first aid man came around to see how many would need to go to the hospital. I told him that I would not have to go, but after examining me I was ordered away too. I had not been on the way long till I became sick too. In a little while I was almost blind but managed to reach headquarters. Here the ambulances were brought, but I was too sick to ride in one, so I was carried on stretchers. One man came up and said that there is a very sick boy. They sent me back to Nancy. While I was here they wrote a letter home and told my people about the matter. Soon

I broke out with sores which were not healed well for several months. My cough became worse too. It has not entirely left me yet. We were sent to the Mediterranean coast for a while and then back to central France. From here we were shipped home to New York.

When I arrived in New York I felt all right. They allowed me to go out over the city. On certain occasions we were entertained by the ''Chateau Thierry'' Club. On the night before I was to start to West Baden for treatment I became sick and was taken to my room. Next day I felt better till I boarded the train, then I became deathly sick. For several weeks I hardly knew anything. My father came to see me but I never knew him. He got me discharged on August 14, 1919. While there they kept me in a straight-jacket. I did not know what went on at Fort Benjamin Harrison.