Racine County, Wisconsin - Chapter 34: The Wonderful Occasion of a Supply Train Wreck, 1920

IN EVERYONE'S life there is one day which stands out above all others as "Der Tag" - the day of days. To about 4,000 men of the 57th Artillery brigade that unforgettable occasion arrived in the early days of 1919 when, weary of waiting for embarking orders and sick of the endless routine of drills which had no purpose to men anxious to be demobilized, they were suddenly plunged into such a riot of high living as had never befallen soldiers anywhere on this cold, uncharitable earth.

Let it be understood, first of all, that money was a scarce article among all but the most successful of crap shooters, and while all men dreamed of going to Paris some day for a bigtime mighty few ever had a chance to cast an artistic eye about the Louvre or eat luncheon at Versailles. In the villages about Rozieresen-Blois prices of all staples had mounted skyhigh and the goods were scarce at that.

A daily newspaper would not give much space to such a wreck; nobody was killed, and all there was to it was that fifty freight cars jumped the track and rolled into the ditch at Mauvages, three miles from the Rozieres billets.

The real news of the affair, however, laid in the fact that these cars were loaded with champagne, sweet chocolate, canned milk, candy and cookies! Nothing else; just that, and fifty carloads of it. It was intended for the French army at Verdun.

How the news travelled, no one has been able to explain. But before the train crew had wired to division headquarters for a wrecking crew, the 57th Artillery brigade was performing most remarkable feats of salvage work, and within an hour they were being ably assisted by motor truck companies and infantry from places as far away as Barleduc, thirty miles over the hills.

to a place of "safety" in billets, woods or hay piles. Trucks departed with candy and canned milk piled to the arched roofs. Mule skinners who detested the idea of manual labor brought their six-mule teams to the spot on a gallop, loaded their escort wagons "on the high" and were gone for parts unknown before one could realize that they had had time to harness and hitch.

French civilians, flocking to the scene with bags and baskets, were given limited amounts of the dainties by soldiers who took their names and afterward reported them to the French authorities for stealing the goods.

Lieut. William Wadewitz was ordered to the scene in an auto by the commander of the 121st F. A. to stop the looting. If he had arrived five minutes later he wouldn't have obtained anything, but he was able to load up his car with enough to supply the officers' mess with luxuries of life for the next three weeks. Back in the barracks, the space between the board siding and the tar paper lining of the buildings was packed with cake chocolate. Doughboys staggered down the road with their packs filled with bottles of champagne and their interiors lined with the same, minus the bottles. Every cheek and chin was streaked with candy and chocolate, like a child's face on Christmas morning.

The details of that grand and glorious occasion are too sacred for public recital, but be it said that in these days of prohibition, high cost of living, economy and thrift, no such a time as that will ever again be seen by any large group of American citizens!

to the Regulating Station "A." Later he was, even though on his way home, in June, 1919, again transferred, this time into the R. R. & C. Service, that is. Rents, Requisitions and Claims, not "Rest, Recreation and Comfort" as it was frequently translated.

In August, 1919, while at Tours, in the R. R. & C. service, he was handling French railroad A. E. F. - the settlement of the thousands of claims against the A. E. F. His particular department was the East Railroad, the line operating in most of the American sectors. Let him tell it:

"One claim in particular riveted my attention, owing to the large amount claimed and the peculiar nature of the alleged offense. There had been a wreck on the railroad near the town of Mauvages, in the Gondrecourt area. Several freight cars had been almost demolished and a large quantity of champagne and chocolate had been appropriated. The French claim was that the appropriating had been done by American soldiers and a little by French civilians. I was astounded at the amount of the claim - 93,000 francs, with another claimant to hear from. Oh, boys! That was sure some claim. And it made my mouth water to read what the items were. Real, fine honest-to-goodness champagne. And Moet & Chandon at that! And other good brands! And they claimed our boys came with trucks to cart it away.

"And there were stacks of papers in the file all about it. Naturally, I was curious to know what organization had felt the need of wallowing in such stuff as real champagne. I searched further through the papers in the file, when, lo and behold! I met friends. The only organizations claimed implicated were the 119th and 121st Regiments Field Artillery, in both of which regiments I had formerly sei-ved and which, when I was reading, were long ago demobilized. Ye Gods, thought I, I might have known it; leave it to the old 121st to do things right. I turned to another officer in the office with me and showed him the claim, of which he had already heard. When I explained to him who were the alleged culprits he said, 'Well, if that's the organization you graduated from, I don't wonder at it.'

"On my return to Racine, when I related this to some of the 121st boys and asked how they enjoyed it, I was greeted with much laughter and many knowing smiles. But, strange as it may seem, not a soul in this town had so much as a taste of the stuff, nor does anybody know anybody else that did. Strange; Oh, ye camels, 93,000 francs worth.

"Eventually it was decided that French civilians had stolen the bulk of the articles, and while soldiers may have taken a few items, the men had now gone home and could not be held responsible."

Early in the war, the Army recruiting service furnished a number of striking posters urging men to join the colors as volunteers. On April 20, 1917, the following display advertisement, occupying a quarter of a page, appeared in both the Racine newspapers: "Your country needs you! Do not wait to be drafted. Are you not ready today? The time for excuses has passed. We want men for men's work, not for child's play. This is the time for patriotism and sacrifice. Join one of the Racine batteries."

The following extracts from the interesting private diary of Lieut. Wallace Coleman, Racine Aviator and winner of the Distinguished Service Cross, show that the life of a combat flyer was not one of ease and security:

"In St. Mihiel offensive, Sept. 12, 1918 - With Lt, Belzer went out on daylight patrol for three hours. Hun Albatros tackled us about Metz and we shot him down in flames. Bonyer and Johnston in one machine - Suiter and Morse in another, and myself, got in a fight with a number of Hun machines. Our two machines went down. At noon took another pilot's patrol. Had a good scrap over Eubezen with two single seater Pfalz. Shot down one which crashed in the woods.

"Sept. 13 - On daylight patrol with Lieut. Aldrich. Raining very hard and we shot up a number of German prisoners before we found they were under American guard.

"Sept. 14 - With Belzer volunteered for a special trip to find out location of German Infantry. Coupled up with a number of French machines and then got into a fight with eight Huns. Three of the French machines went down in flames. We were driven out on arcount of gun trouble and after fixing our guns went back and got into a fight with seven enemy machines which drove us out. We went in a third time and got in a fight with three more and then went home, our machine a wreck, as it was shot to pieces.

"Sept. 22 - Took Belzer in my machine, Jagoe and Nathan in another and Schock and Drummond in another on long distance photographic trip. Had no trouble going in but coming out had a fight with a number of different formations. Got in one dog fight with two twoseater rumpers and three Hun single seaters. Crashed one of the rumpers. In the afternoon went to Neufcheateau.

"Sept. 26 - Second American attack on Western front. - A heavy fog and nearly made a mistake and landed behind the German lines. Recognized some German planes on the ground just in time.

"Sept. 27 - Went on an artillery regale with Belzer at daylight. Used nine point one guns. At one o'clock P. M. took McDonald out for his first trip over the lines.

Oct. 10 - Nice day and everybody very busy. Claud Garrett shot down in flames when coming to help my patrol in a fight against 19 Huns. We got 7 of the Huns.

"Oct. 21 - Took a patrol over at 20,000 feet on a photogi-aphic protection. Had no trouble as the Huns could not get up to us. The thermometer was away below zero.

"Oct. 23 - Went over on a regale with Belzer and after we finished the shoot went back and shot up a German rest camp. In the evening went to a dance of the 168th Squadron.

"Oct. 29 - Early patrol with Belzer. Ed Landon and Aldrich volunteered for a special mission at noon and came back about 1 o'clock. They had been in a fight and Aldrich died as soon as machine landed. Had an explosive bullet in his stomach. Belzer and I volunteered for the same mission and left at 2 o'clock. Went over the lines at 22,000 feet and then dropped down to 2,000 behind the German line squadron air domes and got out all right.

"Oct. 30 - Early patrol. At noon volunteered for a special mission and took Smart and Peck along as protection. McDonald was with me. Crossed the lines at 20,000 feet and about 15 miles in got in a dog fight with 7 machines. We got split up and Smart flew southeast. I started west for Verdun and they cut my control wires. Fell 15,000 feet and was scared. It was McDonald's first fight. We got one Hun and Smart got one Hun - both in flames.

The victim was a youne lieutenant of the 121st Field Artill3ry killed in the Argonne sector. His comrades procured a chaplain, had a shallow jrrave scooped out and a burial ceremony held - rather unusual in a figrhting area. A few yards away was the prave of Pvt. Nick Garski of Racine, killed the same week. Below is a picture of the American section of

"Nov. 3 - The German Checker Board Squadron sent over a wireless daring us to come over and fight. Six of us went over and for an hour tried to pick a fight but they would not close. Went down and shot up a big German rest camp and Freschey Air Dome and then home. Lt. Ryan, a new gunner, was with me.

"Nov. 5 - At noon was decorated by General Patrick with D. S. C. In the afternoon took Lt. Clark, a new fighting gunner, over the lines. Couldn't find a fight before dark.

They were five soldiers, and they were seated about a table - a round table - in an attractive little restaurant in an equally attractive little French city. It was Christmas Day, 1918. Good things had been set before them, including turkey with real stuffing, and there was a prospect, along toward the dim and distant end of the meal, of coffee with real sugar in it.

"A year ago today," he said, "things weren't exactly like this. And yet it was one of the most pleasant Christmasses I ever had. I had been in Tours for five weeks - my first five weeks in France - where it had been so mild that we used to go around the barracks grounds without our blouses. Then, two days before Christmas, they sent us up to a high hill near Chaumont. It was like changing from Florida to Minnesota. For Haute-Marne was a single sheet of snow; the air was beautifully crisp and cold, and it made you want to go out of doors and stand up straight and fill your lungs v^ith it.

"The first day up there I was picked for K.P. When I went into the kitchen, the cook, a real old-timer, told me that K.P. tricks up thataway lasted a week. So I resigned myself to seven days of it - including Christmas.

"I didn't like the prospect at first. But when, on Christmas Eve, I saw the cook laying out I don't know how many apple pies, with real apples in them, and heard him say that he had been making tarts for soldiers for the last five Christmas Eves, I began to grow more enthusiastic.

"Christmas came, and I was still K.P. At noon the boys began to flock in - we were only about a hundred - and sat down to turkey, and I've forgotten how many kinds of vegetables, and apple pie - a piece to a man. Before they began a young aviator offered prayer. I guess he wasn't used to praying, for his prayer was a familiar, offhand kind of thing, but it was so genuinely sincere that if ever a prayer was listened to, that prayer was.

"That was my Christmas. Oh, yes, and I forgot to tell you that, being K.P., I knocked down four pieces of that apple pie - the best I ever tasted."

"A year ago today," said the second man, "I was aboard the good ship Tuscania, lying in the harbor at Liverpool. For a Christmas gift, I found in my sock a piece of hard dry bread that a rat had feasted upon, a bone - no meat on it - from the leg of a chicken, and an empty can of sardines. For Christmas dinner I had a piece of corned willie for turkey, and for cranberries I had tripe.

"And then, for entertainment, a second lieutenant came along and bawled me out for not having cleaned up the mess by my bunk that I had made two nights before when one of those sickly little waves got funny with the ship and skidded us a couple of miles out of our course.

"Now that was a year ago, mind you, and many things have happened since then. The Tuscania, as you know, went down. But the second lieutenant who bawled me out went up. He's a major now."

"A year ago today," said the third man, "I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world, because three of my Christmas packages - we got man size ones in these days, you know - came on Christmas Eve, and when I got up for a delightfully late 7:30 reveille - postponed an hour in honor of the day - there they all were, smokes and eats and socks and all the things I had been hankering for ever since my arrival in France two months back. Right there I decided to pass up Cook Louie's breakfast, and beat it back to the billet with the rest of the squad just as soon as we were dismissed, there to dejeuner on coeoanut cakes and all the other well known indigestibles. It was some breakfast.

"All this happened in the little town of Mont-le-Neufchateau, in the department of Vosges, just above the well-known Yank town of Neufchateau. Some of the gang went down there in the afternoon, after Christmas dinner in the mess shack, but I didn't. Reason? I was confined to the limits of Montey for hav-

"Well, like every other outfit that was well quartered, we had a tree up in the square, and presents for all the French youngsters and those of us who were godly went to mass in the little cold stone church and tried to keep warm by helping the wavering choir out on its 'Venite, adoremus.' And after that the battalion had a great get-together party, in the course of which the major - he's a loot-colonel now and a D.S.C. - read a speech in French, to which the mayor, who was my landlord, responded in much better French. In the course of the proceedings I made a speech, too, in which I took a slam at the major (he had confined me personally)."

"A year ago today," said the fourth man, "I was in a training camp at Langres with the snow a foot from the ground and the mercury trying to get out through the bottom of the thermometer to meet it. The features of the previous three or four weeks had been squads right, cold, candlelight, beans, slum and sore feet in generous overdoses. The afternoon before, until 8 o' clock at night, we had chased an imaginary enemy several kilometers across plowed fields and through woods, with the snow dropping from the trees down our backs - and melting.

"I answered reveille at 6 a. m. and went back to bed because the stove wouldn't bum. The Q. M. fell down and for Christmas dinner we had beans, for which there wasn't room after we had swallowed our indignation.

"In the afternoon a friend and I decided we ought to mitigate the bean atrocity with champagne. We went into town and found the places where champagne might be bought greatly outnumbered by M.J.'s, but we finally got a bottle with the understanding that we couldn't drink it on the premises.

"For two hours we hunted for a place to down it comfortably, eventually consuming it standing in the snow behind the Army Staff College, drinking out of one mess cup by turns. After eating deux oeufs - omelette - et pommes frites - oui, oui - oui, oui - I went back to the barracks. The stove was as cold and the room as dismal as the rest of the day had been. The whole room - 20 men - went to bed at 8 o'clock to keep warm."