Scarlet Fields: The Combat Memoir of a World War I Medal of Honor Hero

4. Chateau-Thierry

4 Château-Thierry Jesse and I were the first sent out, each of us with a runner. We pushed over the ridge, then a short distance down the slope on the other side, to the edge of a cliff. I established my observation post in a clump of brush, and Jesse located his in a pile of rocks some two hundred yards from me. Between the two of us we could see almost everything in the valley, up to the limit of vision. I hadn’t really looked down yet into the valley on the other side of the river where I knew Château-Thierry must be.13 I could see the men of our 9th Machine-Gun Battalion crouching behind their shelters of rock on the crest of the hill to the left.14 There was never a moment’s pause in their firing. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to look down at the place where their bullets were going. I took a long breath—and looked. That rain of machine-gun bullets was splashing down on columns of moving men. Splashing down on them, but not stopping them—or hardly more than a natural rain would have done. I knew that the French had already been beaten back across the two stone bridges that connected our side of the river with the roads leading down to it from Château-Thierry. I’d seen the last of them retiring over the hills to my left. Now long columns of men in gray moved down those roads. Onto the bridges. Almost across! It was one of those days when the air is so clear it almost seems as if you could see far-away things more plainly than those nearer to you. We’d been ordered to study the German uniforms the first chance we got,and to find out how the officers looked and the noncommissioned château-thierry 65 officers. I had my binoculars ready, but it was several minutes before I could get myself to the point of training them on the bridges down there, and the roads. When I did I found out that I was still pretty far from being a hardened man of war. The columns weren’t stopped by the machine-gun bullets. But everywhere, as they came on, men were left squirming on the ground.I could see the officers quite clearly.They allowed no break in that steady stream.Every gap was filled up at once.And the column moved on. Moved on to certain death at the bridges.They were brave men, those German soldiers. I was learning that early. When I couldn’t look at it any longer I turned my glasses away, moving them slowly along the valley in front of me, then up the slope to the crest of the ridge opposite us. It was a beautiful valley, and it hadn’t suffered much from shell fire. In the bright sunlight the water of the river sparkled, and the leaves shimmered in the breeze that was swaying the tree tops on the hill across from me. And while I watched those swaying trees, on the crest of the ridge, I saw that there were other objects among them that didn’t sway.They were four German batteries.There couldn’t have been more than three thousand yards between them and our machine-gunners on the hill to my left.They’d blow the top of the hill to pieces. Mike was the runner who’d been sent with me. I called him. My fingers trembled while I wrote out the position of the four batteries. “For God’s sake take this and beat it!” Then I sat in my observation post wondering whether my first message would get through. Wondering where our own artillery was. Wondering how long it would take the Germans to get the range of the hilltop. Of course they knew exactly where that machine-gun fire was coming from. Suddenly the four batteries went into action. I can see those guns yet,twisting around,looking for a target.They began to put shells over, and our machine-guns replied. But when it’s machine-guns against artillery there’s only one answer. I looked back at the hill to my left to see where the shells were 66 chapter four...