CHAPTER XWithout OrdersTHE three Yanks who accosted Morgan, the messenger, on his way from the surrounded platoon were out doing scout duty for the bunch of seventeen mentioned at the beginning of the last chapter. When they heard Morgan’s story they chose one of their number to conduct the messenger to their own camp at the southern foot of the hill on which the unexpected meeting had occurred.Sergeant Grout eagerly listened to what Morgan said; although the message was not intended for him, he determined to act upon it without delay. The young fellow’s information concerning the lay of the land decided him to take this course: a bunch of plucky boys, at night and led unerringly, could get through to the surrounded men, taking them ammunition, food and water and then the lot of them could come back against big odds.But Grout still hesitated. He was in command and yet a non-commissioned officer.Would even a lieutenant or a captain dare assume such responsibility without orders from higher up?At this precise moment who should wander in upon them but Major Anderson, of their own battalion, and Grout instantly put the matter up to him. Anderson was the sort of man that goes in for action; he was also utterly devoid of useless self-importance; entirely without that arrogance too often found, without reason, in the highly trained men of the Army.“You’re in command here, Sergeant,” he said, “and your past deeds are sufficient guarantee for your wisdom and scrapping qualities. I’ll leave the matter to you. If you go in, good luck to you, and you’ll do some good, I know.”It seems strange, perhaps, to one not accustomed to the conditions that naturally influence the fighting man in the midst of battle scenes that a lot of fellows who had been almost continually in action and had lost half their number in dead and wounded should actually want more action, seek further adventure and deadly risks. But such was the case with the majority of the Americans and such was the case now with these seventeen Yanks.Grout put it up to them, which may have been not according to military customs, but they were buddies, one and all; therefore, they should act only upon their combined decision. This proved to be a unanimous verdict; there was not a dissenting voice among the lot and forthwith they prepared for the foray, starting after extra water and food had been obtained, though in what manner is not recorded.Morgan led the way back, just as he had come out: over the hill to the ravine, then up the gully. The advance was single file, the men five or six feet apart, following each other exactly and as silently as a lot of Indians.Rapid progress was made and the platoon had, without incident, reached the spot where Morgan had shot the sentry, the man’s body still lying where it had fallen.Just at this spot the leaders, Morgan and Grout, sensed danger ahead. There were unmistakable evidences of the presence of a camp: the slight and almost indefinable sounds that must come from a large number of men, even though many are sleeping, for a combined loud breathing pulsates on the night air not unlike the ticking of a clock.The Yanks halted; stood waiting, listening,hardly expecting anything to occur and when it did two of them never knew it. The dense forest was lighted up for yards around and the detonation was heard for miles. Probably some shrewd officer of the enemy surmised that a relief expedition would come along in the way of the death-dealing messenger had gone out and a mine had been laid, with an automatic set-off, no doubt. The odd thing, however, was that more than half the Yanks had gone past before the mine was set off and that the two men, who were literally blown to bits, had debouched from the path that Morgan had taken. It appeared afterward that the messenger had turned aside to pass around the body of the sentry, merely pointing it out to Grout, and the act had saved the lives of many of the men, not one other of whom was hurt.The explosion, however, was a signal to the foe. In half a minute there was a curtain of fire being spread out down the ravine from above and probably every one in the enemy camp ahead was up and busy with rifles and machine guns. But the trees were thick, the rocks on the hillsides made good shelter, there could be no marksmanship in the darkness. As a matter of fact, not until long afterward did the aroused Germans know whether theyhad been shooting at one man or one thousand; indeed, it might have been a hare that had set off the mine.Grout was a quick-witted fellow; Morgan, as we have seen, equally so. The advantage for the Americans lay in the darkness and the density of the woods. The orders, given more by motions than by words, and the latter in whispers, were to keep down and get back a little. This done, they climbed the steep side of the ravine and followed its slope just below the fringe of bushes on its crest, keeping forward and parallel to the gully. In this way they were out of the zone of fire and they came out on the level ground above to within fifty yards of the disturbed Huns, who were still shooting down the ravine.This was a remarkable piece of work; both as a matter of leadership, and as a streak of pure good luck it was almost unique. That fifteen men should so elude a watchful foe and get entirely through its lines untouched, especially after the mine incident had doubly alarmed the Huns, is almost beyond belief.A little farther on Morgan advanced a hundred yards alone to the entrenched squad, the men of which had begun to think they were doomed to have a sorry time of it on the morrow. Then Grout’s platoon came forward,were received with silent plaudits and very soon the entire bunch of twenty-two was on the way back to its own lines. And they made it, but not as easily as had Morgan and the platoon of fourteen who had sneaked through the German positions.When they were in the ravine again, which seemed to be a place of death, they suddenly encountered a small number of Huns, evidently out to ascertain the cause of the mine explosion, and as the Yanks were upon them before they were aware of it, they offered no resistance, but began to fade away. At the moment good fortune was again with the Americans. A flare had been sent up by the Germans on the hill and Grout saw an opportunity that was not to be lost.At a sharp order the Yanks leaped forward, spread out, heading off the Huns from retreat back to their own lines and so, without more ado, they surrendered and the daring rescuers and rescued, driving nine prisoners before them, made rapidly for the hill to the south of the ravine.To reach it, they again had to pass through the open space and as they came into this, beneath the luminous sky, a machine gun hard to the right, possibly set there to intercept them, opened fire.Pausing not an instant and now without orders, the larger number of the Yanks swung about and went for that machine gun, but at the first fire and before they got the Huns who manned the weapon, several of our boys went down.With both wounded and prisoners the little platoon returned and Grout immediately sent in a report, which brought Major Anderson again to visit the boys back in their old camp, which they had left hardly ten hours before. The officer went with Grout into the shed tent to see the wounded; when they came out the two stood talking of many things.“You’ll get a commission for this bit of work and you’ll deserve it! Every one of your boys ought to have a D. S. M.!” exclaimed the Major.“I wish that messenger—Morgan his name is—could have had one,” said the sergeant sadly.“Yes, isn’t it a pity? And after such heroic work. That fellow is the real stuff. But enemy lead is no respecter of persons. He can’t live.”“No, but heaven be praised, he doesn’t suffer any,” Grout asserted. “Poor chap; only a kid, too. A pluckier, cooler one never drew breath. I found this paper on him; hisname and his home. Wm. T. Morgan; sounds like a fighting name.”“Yes, I suspect the T stands for Tecumseh. Named after old General Sherman, I judge.”“Likely. And I found this on him, too; pinned on his shirt. You’ll take charge of them, Major, and send them to headquarters.”The Major held his bull’s-eye to shine on the thing that dropped into his hand; it was a bronze bar without much ornament; across it ran some letters and figures.Alma MaterBrighton AcademyClass of 1919Truly the chances of battle are not governed by what we deem as befitting in a world of needful justification, else this bright and brave lad would have been spared. Amidst those scenes of carnage many such an one went down; others less worthy were spared. Many brave deeds had their only reward in death. Often it was quite the reverse.The adventures that were encountered by a squad of Yanks under the command of Herbert Whitcomb, accompanied by Don Richards, illustrate these facts and portray many of the conditions that the invading Americans faced with remarkable intrepidity in the Argonne Forest.
CHAPTER XWithout OrdersTHE three Yanks who accosted Morgan, the messenger, on his way from the surrounded platoon were out doing scout duty for the bunch of seventeen mentioned at the beginning of the last chapter. When they heard Morgan’s story they chose one of their number to conduct the messenger to their own camp at the southern foot of the hill on which the unexpected meeting had occurred.Sergeant Grout eagerly listened to what Morgan said; although the message was not intended for him, he determined to act upon it without delay. The young fellow’s information concerning the lay of the land decided him to take this course: a bunch of plucky boys, at night and led unerringly, could get through to the surrounded men, taking them ammunition, food and water and then the lot of them could come back against big odds.But Grout still hesitated. He was in command and yet a non-commissioned officer.Would even a lieutenant or a captain dare assume such responsibility without orders from higher up?At this precise moment who should wander in upon them but Major Anderson, of their own battalion, and Grout instantly put the matter up to him. Anderson was the sort of man that goes in for action; he was also utterly devoid of useless self-importance; entirely without that arrogance too often found, without reason, in the highly trained men of the Army.“You’re in command here, Sergeant,” he said, “and your past deeds are sufficient guarantee for your wisdom and scrapping qualities. I’ll leave the matter to you. If you go in, good luck to you, and you’ll do some good, I know.”It seems strange, perhaps, to one not accustomed to the conditions that naturally influence the fighting man in the midst of battle scenes that a lot of fellows who had been almost continually in action and had lost half their number in dead and wounded should actually want more action, seek further adventure and deadly risks. But such was the case with the majority of the Americans and such was the case now with these seventeen Yanks.Grout put it up to them, which may have been not according to military customs, but they were buddies, one and all; therefore, they should act only upon their combined decision. This proved to be a unanimous verdict; there was not a dissenting voice among the lot and forthwith they prepared for the foray, starting after extra water and food had been obtained, though in what manner is not recorded.Morgan led the way back, just as he had come out: over the hill to the ravine, then up the gully. The advance was single file, the men five or six feet apart, following each other exactly and as silently as a lot of Indians.Rapid progress was made and the platoon had, without incident, reached the spot where Morgan had shot the sentry, the man’s body still lying where it had fallen.Just at this spot the leaders, Morgan and Grout, sensed danger ahead. There were unmistakable evidences of the presence of a camp: the slight and almost indefinable sounds that must come from a large number of men, even though many are sleeping, for a combined loud breathing pulsates on the night air not unlike the ticking of a clock.The Yanks halted; stood waiting, listening,hardly expecting anything to occur and when it did two of them never knew it. The dense forest was lighted up for yards around and the detonation was heard for miles. Probably some shrewd officer of the enemy surmised that a relief expedition would come along in the way of the death-dealing messenger had gone out and a mine had been laid, with an automatic set-off, no doubt. The odd thing, however, was that more than half the Yanks had gone past before the mine was set off and that the two men, who were literally blown to bits, had debouched from the path that Morgan had taken. It appeared afterward that the messenger had turned aside to pass around the body of the sentry, merely pointing it out to Grout, and the act had saved the lives of many of the men, not one other of whom was hurt.The explosion, however, was a signal to the foe. In half a minute there was a curtain of fire being spread out down the ravine from above and probably every one in the enemy camp ahead was up and busy with rifles and machine guns. But the trees were thick, the rocks on the hillsides made good shelter, there could be no marksmanship in the darkness. As a matter of fact, not until long afterward did the aroused Germans know whether theyhad been shooting at one man or one thousand; indeed, it might have been a hare that had set off the mine.Grout was a quick-witted fellow; Morgan, as we have seen, equally so. The advantage for the Americans lay in the darkness and the density of the woods. The orders, given more by motions than by words, and the latter in whispers, were to keep down and get back a little. This done, they climbed the steep side of the ravine and followed its slope just below the fringe of bushes on its crest, keeping forward and parallel to the gully. In this way they were out of the zone of fire and they came out on the level ground above to within fifty yards of the disturbed Huns, who were still shooting down the ravine.This was a remarkable piece of work; both as a matter of leadership, and as a streak of pure good luck it was almost unique. That fifteen men should so elude a watchful foe and get entirely through its lines untouched, especially after the mine incident had doubly alarmed the Huns, is almost beyond belief.A little farther on Morgan advanced a hundred yards alone to the entrenched squad, the men of which had begun to think they were doomed to have a sorry time of it on the morrow. Then Grout’s platoon came forward,were received with silent plaudits and very soon the entire bunch of twenty-two was on the way back to its own lines. And they made it, but not as easily as had Morgan and the platoon of fourteen who had sneaked through the German positions.When they were in the ravine again, which seemed to be a place of death, they suddenly encountered a small number of Huns, evidently out to ascertain the cause of the mine explosion, and as the Yanks were upon them before they were aware of it, they offered no resistance, but began to fade away. At the moment good fortune was again with the Americans. A flare had been sent up by the Germans on the hill and Grout saw an opportunity that was not to be lost.At a sharp order the Yanks leaped forward, spread out, heading off the Huns from retreat back to their own lines and so, without more ado, they surrendered and the daring rescuers and rescued, driving nine prisoners before them, made rapidly for the hill to the south of the ravine.To reach it, they again had to pass through the open space and as they came into this, beneath the luminous sky, a machine gun hard to the right, possibly set there to intercept them, opened fire.Pausing not an instant and now without orders, the larger number of the Yanks swung about and went for that machine gun, but at the first fire and before they got the Huns who manned the weapon, several of our boys went down.With both wounded and prisoners the little platoon returned and Grout immediately sent in a report, which brought Major Anderson again to visit the boys back in their old camp, which they had left hardly ten hours before. The officer went with Grout into the shed tent to see the wounded; when they came out the two stood talking of many things.“You’ll get a commission for this bit of work and you’ll deserve it! Every one of your boys ought to have a D. S. M.!” exclaimed the Major.“I wish that messenger—Morgan his name is—could have had one,” said the sergeant sadly.“Yes, isn’t it a pity? And after such heroic work. That fellow is the real stuff. But enemy lead is no respecter of persons. He can’t live.”“No, but heaven be praised, he doesn’t suffer any,” Grout asserted. “Poor chap; only a kid, too. A pluckier, cooler one never drew breath. I found this paper on him; hisname and his home. Wm. T. Morgan; sounds like a fighting name.”“Yes, I suspect the T stands for Tecumseh. Named after old General Sherman, I judge.”“Likely. And I found this on him, too; pinned on his shirt. You’ll take charge of them, Major, and send them to headquarters.”The Major held his bull’s-eye to shine on the thing that dropped into his hand; it was a bronze bar without much ornament; across it ran some letters and figures.Alma MaterBrighton AcademyClass of 1919Truly the chances of battle are not governed by what we deem as befitting in a world of needful justification, else this bright and brave lad would have been spared. Amidst those scenes of carnage many such an one went down; others less worthy were spared. Many brave deeds had their only reward in death. Often it was quite the reverse.The adventures that were encountered by a squad of Yanks under the command of Herbert Whitcomb, accompanied by Don Richards, illustrate these facts and portray many of the conditions that the invading Americans faced with remarkable intrepidity in the Argonne Forest.
THE three Yanks who accosted Morgan, the messenger, on his way from the surrounded platoon were out doing scout duty for the bunch of seventeen mentioned at the beginning of the last chapter. When they heard Morgan’s story they chose one of their number to conduct the messenger to their own camp at the southern foot of the hill on which the unexpected meeting had occurred.
Sergeant Grout eagerly listened to what Morgan said; although the message was not intended for him, he determined to act upon it without delay. The young fellow’s information concerning the lay of the land decided him to take this course: a bunch of plucky boys, at night and led unerringly, could get through to the surrounded men, taking them ammunition, food and water and then the lot of them could come back against big odds.
But Grout still hesitated. He was in command and yet a non-commissioned officer.Would even a lieutenant or a captain dare assume such responsibility without orders from higher up?
At this precise moment who should wander in upon them but Major Anderson, of their own battalion, and Grout instantly put the matter up to him. Anderson was the sort of man that goes in for action; he was also utterly devoid of useless self-importance; entirely without that arrogance too often found, without reason, in the highly trained men of the Army.
“You’re in command here, Sergeant,” he said, “and your past deeds are sufficient guarantee for your wisdom and scrapping qualities. I’ll leave the matter to you. If you go in, good luck to you, and you’ll do some good, I know.”
It seems strange, perhaps, to one not accustomed to the conditions that naturally influence the fighting man in the midst of battle scenes that a lot of fellows who had been almost continually in action and had lost half their number in dead and wounded should actually want more action, seek further adventure and deadly risks. But such was the case with the majority of the Americans and such was the case now with these seventeen Yanks.
Grout put it up to them, which may have been not according to military customs, but they were buddies, one and all; therefore, they should act only upon their combined decision. This proved to be a unanimous verdict; there was not a dissenting voice among the lot and forthwith they prepared for the foray, starting after extra water and food had been obtained, though in what manner is not recorded.
Morgan led the way back, just as he had come out: over the hill to the ravine, then up the gully. The advance was single file, the men five or six feet apart, following each other exactly and as silently as a lot of Indians.
Rapid progress was made and the platoon had, without incident, reached the spot where Morgan had shot the sentry, the man’s body still lying where it had fallen.
Just at this spot the leaders, Morgan and Grout, sensed danger ahead. There were unmistakable evidences of the presence of a camp: the slight and almost indefinable sounds that must come from a large number of men, even though many are sleeping, for a combined loud breathing pulsates on the night air not unlike the ticking of a clock.
The Yanks halted; stood waiting, listening,hardly expecting anything to occur and when it did two of them never knew it. The dense forest was lighted up for yards around and the detonation was heard for miles. Probably some shrewd officer of the enemy surmised that a relief expedition would come along in the way of the death-dealing messenger had gone out and a mine had been laid, with an automatic set-off, no doubt. The odd thing, however, was that more than half the Yanks had gone past before the mine was set off and that the two men, who were literally blown to bits, had debouched from the path that Morgan had taken. It appeared afterward that the messenger had turned aside to pass around the body of the sentry, merely pointing it out to Grout, and the act had saved the lives of many of the men, not one other of whom was hurt.
The explosion, however, was a signal to the foe. In half a minute there was a curtain of fire being spread out down the ravine from above and probably every one in the enemy camp ahead was up and busy with rifles and machine guns. But the trees were thick, the rocks on the hillsides made good shelter, there could be no marksmanship in the darkness. As a matter of fact, not until long afterward did the aroused Germans know whether theyhad been shooting at one man or one thousand; indeed, it might have been a hare that had set off the mine.
Grout was a quick-witted fellow; Morgan, as we have seen, equally so. The advantage for the Americans lay in the darkness and the density of the woods. The orders, given more by motions than by words, and the latter in whispers, were to keep down and get back a little. This done, they climbed the steep side of the ravine and followed its slope just below the fringe of bushes on its crest, keeping forward and parallel to the gully. In this way they were out of the zone of fire and they came out on the level ground above to within fifty yards of the disturbed Huns, who were still shooting down the ravine.
This was a remarkable piece of work; both as a matter of leadership, and as a streak of pure good luck it was almost unique. That fifteen men should so elude a watchful foe and get entirely through its lines untouched, especially after the mine incident had doubly alarmed the Huns, is almost beyond belief.
A little farther on Morgan advanced a hundred yards alone to the entrenched squad, the men of which had begun to think they were doomed to have a sorry time of it on the morrow. Then Grout’s platoon came forward,were received with silent plaudits and very soon the entire bunch of twenty-two was on the way back to its own lines. And they made it, but not as easily as had Morgan and the platoon of fourteen who had sneaked through the German positions.
When they were in the ravine again, which seemed to be a place of death, they suddenly encountered a small number of Huns, evidently out to ascertain the cause of the mine explosion, and as the Yanks were upon them before they were aware of it, they offered no resistance, but began to fade away. At the moment good fortune was again with the Americans. A flare had been sent up by the Germans on the hill and Grout saw an opportunity that was not to be lost.
At a sharp order the Yanks leaped forward, spread out, heading off the Huns from retreat back to their own lines and so, without more ado, they surrendered and the daring rescuers and rescued, driving nine prisoners before them, made rapidly for the hill to the south of the ravine.
To reach it, they again had to pass through the open space and as they came into this, beneath the luminous sky, a machine gun hard to the right, possibly set there to intercept them, opened fire.
Pausing not an instant and now without orders, the larger number of the Yanks swung about and went for that machine gun, but at the first fire and before they got the Huns who manned the weapon, several of our boys went down.
With both wounded and prisoners the little platoon returned and Grout immediately sent in a report, which brought Major Anderson again to visit the boys back in their old camp, which they had left hardly ten hours before. The officer went with Grout into the shed tent to see the wounded; when they came out the two stood talking of many things.
“You’ll get a commission for this bit of work and you’ll deserve it! Every one of your boys ought to have a D. S. M.!” exclaimed the Major.
“I wish that messenger—Morgan his name is—could have had one,” said the sergeant sadly.
“Yes, isn’t it a pity? And after such heroic work. That fellow is the real stuff. But enemy lead is no respecter of persons. He can’t live.”
“No, but heaven be praised, he doesn’t suffer any,” Grout asserted. “Poor chap; only a kid, too. A pluckier, cooler one never drew breath. I found this paper on him; hisname and his home. Wm. T. Morgan; sounds like a fighting name.”
“Yes, I suspect the T stands for Tecumseh. Named after old General Sherman, I judge.”
“Likely. And I found this on him, too; pinned on his shirt. You’ll take charge of them, Major, and send them to headquarters.”
The Major held his bull’s-eye to shine on the thing that dropped into his hand; it was a bronze bar without much ornament; across it ran some letters and figures.
Alma MaterBrighton AcademyClass of 1919
Truly the chances of battle are not governed by what we deem as befitting in a world of needful justification, else this bright and brave lad would have been spared. Amidst those scenes of carnage many such an one went down; others less worthy were spared. Many brave deeds had their only reward in death. Often it was quite the reverse.
The adventures that were encountered by a squad of Yanks under the command of Herbert Whitcomb, accompanied by Don Richards, illustrate these facts and portray many of the conditions that the invading Americans faced with remarkable intrepidity in the Argonne Forest.