DALTON SMITH HAYES WW I MEMOIR
Dalton Hayes was born June 22,1898 at Spiegel Grove, Fremont, Ohio. He was the son of Harry Eaton Smith and
Fanny Hayes. He was the grandson of President and Mrs. Rutherford B. Hayes.
Dalton was a freshman at Princeton University when the U.S. entered World War I
in April 1917. He joined the Princeton Battalion headed by Captain Stuart
Heintzelman, U.S. Army. Later, he trained with the Princeton Officer Training
Corps. On September 10, 1917, he enlisted at Camp Mills, Long Island in the 69th New York Regiment of the famous 42nd Rainbow Division in Co. D 165th Infantry. He served in the A.E.F. in
all engagements participated in by his company, until he was seriously wounded
on October 14, 1918.
On the twelfth of October
1918 we were lying in reserve, dug in on the reverse slope of a high hill,
supporting our third battalion who were holding the front line. We had come to
the Argonne direct from the reduction of the St. Mihiel salient by truck and by
forced marches, and had been in our present position for two or three days
awaiting our turn to go into the fighting, We were somewhere to the left of
Montfaucon exactly where I cannot state as I saw no towns or villages after we
left the main road.
Early on the morning of
the thirteenth my platoon commander Lt. Catts or Ketch, I never did know which,
called the platoon up and announced that the Germans had quit and that Peace
would probably be signed in a fortnight. You can imagine the cheers and rejoicing
that went up! “But,” continued the Lieutenant, “our third battalion is
to go over early tomorrow morning, and one platoon from each company of the
first battalion is to be attached as moppers up to an attacking company.” My
platoon has been given the honor from D company. We will assemble here at 5:30
this evening [for orders] under full equipment.
Lovely! Here we are,
peace already to be signed and we poor devils going over to see jerry the next
day. As moppers up too! A hell of a job!
The moppers up follows immediately
behind the first wave, takes charge of prisoners, sees that no enemy men are
left overlooked in cellars and dugouts, and combs out woods which may have been
left unsearched by the attacking wave. He generally carries beaucoup hand
grenades which make a welcome addition to the trifling weight he has already
strapped on. He can’t even have the sport of firing in all directions as he
advances because of the men in front of him. All in all it is a thankless job.
When he comes to a dugout or likely looking cellar he pulls the pin of a
grenade and yells down, “Come on out you various unmentionables.” If any come
out they are escorted to the rear and if not, he throws his grenade down to
make sure they’re not merely playing possum. More often than not he throws his
grenade and then asks the inmates in a polite tone to come forth. In these
cases the report is invariably the same – “Dug out encountered, no inmates –
now.” Whereupon the Loot. winks and the party moves on to the next hole.
However, at 5:30 on the
evening of the 13th our platoon set forth for the front line only a
kilometer ahead. As Ian Hay has already said, if a hundred men are walking in
single file in the dark the last man invariably has to run all the time in
order not to be last. True. On this occasion I was the last man with the
ironical order to keep the column closed up. I had more than I cared to do to
keep the column in sight much less keep it closed up. Finally the nightmare
came to an end as all nightmares must and we were at the front line. It
had only taken three hours (a record) and we had only been lost twice (another
record) so we were correspondingly elated. After we received our orders
attaching us to H company we had only to dig ourselves in and wait for 8:30
a.m. October 14th, which was the “zero hour.”
We spent a lonely night.
It was cold and was raining with the gentle persistence with which it always
rains in northern France. We were very hungry and to add to our comfort we had
not had a bath or change for some six weeks, and consequently our little Play-mates
– but enough, enough. Then, too, Jerry seemed to know of our fell intentions
and bombarded us with everything but the kitchen sink. At about 4:30 just as it
began to look as if there might be another day in the distant future he tried
to raid us. He was repulsed without much trouble. At 7:30 our barrage which had
raged since five o’ clock increased materially until 8:29:55 when it lifted,
and we started over.
As we emerged from the
shelter of the woods into the open one could see the ? lines of men reaching
for miles apparently on each side of us. My platoon was about fifty yards in
the rear of “K” company. We were divided into three groups with about three
squads each advancing in open order. Each group was under the command of a
sergeant or acting sergeant with two corporals next in command.
Our line advanced with no
trouble up a slight grade but when we reached the top we encountered
difficulties. There was a long downward slope ahead of us, then a rather steep
hill on the top of which the jerries were deeply dug in. Their artillery was
laying down a fearful barrage of 77s and 150s
mixed with heavies and the storm of machine gun fire was terrible. Our
front line wavered but pressed on and we followed taking advantage of all the
cover we could find. Early in the fight we lost track of our lieutenant and the
other groups but after a conference in a large shell hole Serg. Smith, Corp.
Hogan and myself decided to press on immediately in the rear of K company as
long as we could. At this time there were only six privates and us three N.C.O.’s left in our group and the casualties in the
company ahead were very great although reinforcements were constantly coming up.
At about eleven o’clock
we had pushed about two miles beyond our own front line and were holding on
just below the crest of a large hill. The enemy machine guns were actually
lowering the level of the crest. There was a sunken road about fifty yards in
back of the remnants of K company and into this the “moppers up” leaped with a
great sigh of relief, on my part at least! We were protected from the front and
were practically safe from shell fire so we congratulated ourselves on our good
luck. There were at least two German snipers who could see the road for we saw
these two and I was sitting at the side of the road smoking a hard-earned
cigarette when I felt a blow on the back exactly as if someone had hit me with
a hammer on the shoulder blade. My left arm and side went numb, but there was
no pain. The force of the bullet knocked me flat and dazed me for a moment or
two. Then I tied the shoulder up with a little assistance and started for the
rear, rejoicing.
I don’t remember ever
having been quite as scared as I was just then. Of course you’re frightened
more or less all the time at the front but at this time I was absolutely
terror-stricken.
I found the first
aid-station which had moved with the advance about a kilo to the rear. Here I
got my blue tag and started for the ambulance station. That was about three
kilos further on and I was pretty well all in when I finally got there, I had a
new dressing put on there and got in an ambulance bound for the 160th
Field Hospital. This was a ride of perhaps six kilos and when I got there I
felt still more all in. The roads were in fearful shape and since every jar
felt lovely, it was an awful trip. I got a cup of cocoa here and a jab in the
tummy with A.T. mixture. It was about two when I started off again in another
ambulance. It was At about nine or ten in the evening when we
arrived at Mobile Hospital No. 10 I think it was. In the mean time my wound had
gotten cold and stiff and every movement was agony.
I was X-rayed here and
immediately dragged off to the operating room and laid on the table. By this
time I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the table! They roused and gave
me an Army jag and I woke up next morning in a ward in a nice white bed clothed
in pajamas with American nurses all over. Absolute Heaven. We got two square
meals and lots of chocolate and cigarettes and to my sorrow at five-thirty a
lot of us were evacuated. At the station we saw Pershing and then were loaded
on a French R.C. train. Then there was a nightmare trip of twenty seven
hours with two meals and no cigarettes to help out. I was flat on my back on a
very hard litter and could not move hand or foot. The Lord preserve me from
another ride like that! Every jar on that rotten road bed sent a twinge all
through me, Finally at seven in the evening on the 16th we landed in Beaune and I was taken to B.H.
61 given a bath and assigned to bed 39 ward 7. They gave me supper and I
immediately fell asleep.
Of course I wrote Aunt
Mary and sent a telegram to the Colonel and about ten days later Uncle Webb
showed up. Later Aunt Mary came along and on the 16th of Nov. we all
started for Nice. (Uncle Webb having secured a month’s leave for me in a most
miraculous manner.)
The Riviera Leave Area
was perfectly wonderful and I had a fine time. Every day I got my wounds
dressed at the Hospital American. After nearly a month at Nice during which I
made trips to Ca?, Menton, and Monte Carlo, news came that I was to be
invalided home. Glorious news! Uncle Webb had again come to the fore. We
started from Bordeaux Dec. 17 on the Niagara
of the French line arriving in New York the 29th. We had
expected to reach there before Christmas but the sailing date was put off four
times.
We had an uneventful
passage and none too good accommodations, but it was deluxe compared to the way
I had come over in 1917 via transport Ascania.
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Dalton Hayes
Recovering from Wounds Suffered in the Agronne |
For several days prior to
Sept. 12 we had been bivouacked in a dense wood miles from anywhere waiting for
the big offensive which we knew was to come off sometime in the near future
For two or three weeks we
had been having practice maneuvers a safe distance behind the lines at Viscount
and we knew the signs. Then suddenly had come the order to hike and we had
hiked – Lord! How we had hiked – always at night and always getting nearer and
nearer to the rumbling of the guns. Finally we had reached a spot near Toul and
there we had been waiting.
On the 11th we
non-coms – proud title recently acquired – were called by our respective platoon
commanders and the objectives and signals etc were explained to us. The first
attack was to be made by the 1st battalion. “As usual” we groaned
and cursed Wild Bill Donovan, our major, heartily. A company and G company were
to strike the first blow with D and B in support in the second wave. This was a
grain of comfort to those of us in D company. The barrage was to start at one
A.M. and the infantry was to go over at five o’clock.
The officer very candidly
told us that it would be a hard proposition and that preparations had been made
for 50,000 casualties at least. Charming information! In that case it would
probably mean the end of the Rainbow Division – a glorious end it is true but
what good is glory to dead men?! We spent the rest of the day writing farewell
letters and praying to get shot in the leg in the first minute of fighting.
At four o’ clock in the
afternoon we were all packed and stood around in the rain until half past eight
when we at last started off.
It was about 10 kilos to
the front and we arrived after the barrage had started. Instead of getting into
trenches we lined up in shell formation at the rear of A company. It was still
raining very heavily and the ground was simply a quagmire. We had hiked for
over four hours in the ditch on the side of the road – infantry always does
this for some inexplicable reason – we were soaked through and the wind blowing
right through us. It was only one-thirty and we were to wait there until five
when we were to go like lambs to the slaughter. Jerry had a particularly strong
nest of m.g. directly in front of us, we had been told and though it was
practically shell-proof the artillery would try to wipe it out --- but some of
the boys fell asleep. They have my wonder and admiration but I lay awake
cursing the war, the Army and myself and shivered, not altogether from the cold.
At 5 minutes to five our
machine gun barrage started – I would have sworn it was the Germans – and five
minutes later we started through the lanes cut in our wire during the night.
Every minute I expected would be my last, but the long seconds flew by and I
was unhurt – nobody was hurt! The silence in front was absolutely uncanny!
Presently we came across some smashed wire and a kind of furrow which five
hours before had been a trench much as the one we had just left.
Not until then did the
glorious truth come over us. The Germans had evacuated practically without
firing a shot. A few prisoners dirty and scared, more dead than alive, passed
us. One who could speak English said “Metz (?) gone for sure. Goodbye Germany,”
and began to weep bitterly.
Somehow the pathos of it
all struck me, and we went forward without any of the jubilation which might
have been expected.
At about eleven o’ clock
we relieved A company and took up the advance as leading company. We took the
first town, Pannes, that day and found about 200 Boches hidden in cellars. A
great majority of them were dead drunk. The canteen leader was the first one to
run and the troops had raided his place. There were no officers there and we
were told that when the news of the attack came all the officers had left in
motor cars leaving the N.C.O.s in charge. We dug in on the hills around Pannes
that night and had a pretty poor nest as it was cold and rained steadily.
Early next morning we
started off and to our surprise could not come in contact with the enemy. We
proceeded slowly and continuously for two or three days, passing several
villages and and camps in the woods. On the third day, Sept 15th
we had advanced about twenty kilos and were in a tiny village
(something-or-other Fenme.) We dug in and French troops came up and relieved
us. We had to patrol every night and almost every day in front of the French to
find what Jerry was doing
It was on one of these
daylight patrols that I had what I consider my narrowest escape from death or
capture, and at the same time was the most foolish example of inefficiency of
command. There were three French N.C.Os, one American sergeant, and two squads
of Americans, eighteen men. We had orders to proceed from our front line until
we came in contact with the enemy. We proceeded along a road which led straight
toward Germany, ten men on one side and eight on the other, in intervals so
that we covered about 75 or 80 yds. on each side. We had no one on either flank
and were to go on until we reached some Germans. At about 3 in the afternoon we
were some four kilometres from our supporting outposts and no idea at all what
was on our flanks.
We stopped here and sent
back word of our position and what we had seen. Orders came back to “advance
until fired upon.” (These words are the ones used by the way.) There was
nothing to do but obey and so we started forward again. Soon we came near the
end of the woods and could see a narrow lake in the open and then more woods.
When we were about 50 yards from the open space, the French sergeant suddenly
halted and half-turned around. Then Hades broke loose. 50 or 75 Boches sprung
in to view in front of us and a very harassing fire broke out on both both flanks.
I saw the French sergeant’s helmet give a jerk and he slumped in a heap. Our
sergeant gave the word to fall back and we did so without any hesitation at
all. Those Heinies were coming on the run and they sure did look big! They
outnumbered us at least five to one and our movements to the rear were
precipitous to say the least. In some mysterious way my pack was lost, I guess
I just ran right out from under it, but it was an awfully heavy thing anyway and
retarded me considerably!! When we got to our outposts there were only 10 of us
left and I don’t yet understand how so many escaped. It seemed as if a line of
bees was buzzing around our ears. One of our chaps had 4 bullets through his
pack, luckily from the side, and one through his helmet.
The Germans had only
followed about 50 yds or so evidently fearing an ambush so when a combat patrol
went out one wounded man was rescued and the Fritzes were pushed back across
the lake.
The next night we were
relieved and the 89th American Division took our places. We went
back and pitched pup tents in the woods and three days later took over the
front line and finished digging trenches and consolidating our positions for
the winter. After three or four days we were relieved again and after a day’s
rest in the woods (Rest is the Army’s term - not mine) we hiked and went in
trucks right into the Argonne drive which had started Sept 26.
It seemed to us that the
42nd was the only American division in France, for on the 18th
of July we had just come from the Champagne in front of Chalons-sur-Marne,
where we had helped the French repel the Crown Prince’s desperate attempt to
reach Paris and now on the 27th we were told we were to attack in
the morning following our counter-drive at Chateau-Thierry. We had hiked and
come by motor truck to Ehrids (?) where
we relieved the 26th Division and our 84th Brigade
(Alabama and Iowa) started the ball rolling again towards the Burcq (?).
We followed My
battalion had nothing much to do but dodge shells until we had penetrated to
within a half-kilo of the river, There was high ground on the other side and
there were elaborate defense positions manned by the Prussian guards – the
crack troops of Germany. The river lay in a valley whose sides sloped gradually
and absolutely without cover for three hundred yards on each side, Then, on our
side woods began and there were two little villages between the river and the
top of hill. On the summit there was a large white chateau which was used for
brigade headquarters and the first aid station for a while. This chateau was a
shining mark for the German guns and aeroplanes.
When we entered it the
fires were still going and equipment of every sort was scattered around.
We formed attacking lines
in the cover of the woods and pushed across the river on the first attempt.
Then for three days there was a desperate struggle for possession of the
heights across the river Every man in the regiment must remember the Meurcy Ferme
(?) which was captured and lost half a dozen times. Finally the French captured
on left captured the town of Fire-en-Tandenois (?) and our foothold in the
hills especially Hill 212. On this hill alone after the fighting was over the
bodies of over three hundred of both sides were buried. During this week I was
a stretcher-bearer and we were on the ground (?) every minute.
The stretcher-bearer has
a rotten job in open warfare. He advances with the attack and has not got even
the feeling of protection that a rifle gives. Then he has the pleasure of
carrying the seriously wounded back for attendance. And after the first hundred
yards a wounded man is awfully heavy! Naturally he’s under fire as much as the
rest, but he can’t dodge shells or fall flat when he hears one coming because
of the wounded man, at Chateau-Thierry our “carry” was about a half-mile, and
over almost impassable ground.
When we were finally
relieved by the 4th Division we had driven Fritzie more than fifteen
kilos and almost to the Vesta (?) River. In D company there were ninety odd men
left out of 250 and we were not the worst off by any means. We moved back into
the woods and camped in pup tents for
about a week, where practically every man was down with dysentery. I imagine it
was caused by drinking water from the river and polluted sources, and a steady
diet of nothing but canned beef and mighty little of that. For four days we had
nothing but our reserve rations to go on, as our kitchen got lost. D Company’s
kitchen seemed to be lost most of the time. It was mainly the last one in on
hikes and at last and in the Argonne had the misfortune to stop a six inch
shell which ruined its [faculty?] and usefulness forever.
We hiked back almost thirty
kilometers and got in the 40 hommes 8 chevaux box-cars and ended up in almost
the same spot where we had trained when we first arrived in France, near Neuf
(?) Chateau. We had confidently expected a furlough here and then a long rest
but no – in fact we never did get a furlough in France, unless a 24-hour pass
to Paris can be called one, and only 20% of the division got that. I was one of
the lucky ones and had a marvelous time.
The crowds and theatres
& cafes almost made me forget that there was a war. And the Parisiennes or
“Leetle cheechens“ (?) as they liked to be called!!
We had two weeks rest
(with reveille at 6:00 and drills all day) and then two weeks intense attack
drill and we’re off to St. Mihiel.
CHAMPAGNE
Our first taste of real
warfare came on July 15 in the Champagne near Chalons-sur-Marne. We had
finished our training in the trenches of Lorraine in the middle of June and
after a short rest had arrived on about the third of July at the Camp de
Unalons, famous for having been built by Napoleon and from whence the French
went out to defeat in 1870.
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Dalton Hayes
In WWII Dalton Hayes served in intelligence |
