Soldiers of the Soil

 During World War II, my mother told me about planting Victory Gardens that helped feed the nation, while farmers worked not only to feed citizens, but also our soldiers here and overseas. In reality “war gardens,” as they were originally called, began in 1917 when a severe food shortage occurred in Europe. During World War I, farmers were recruited into the military and land soon became battlefields. It fell to Americans to feed the millions starving in Europe

Businessman Charles Lathrop Pack began the National War Garden Commission. He encouraged citizens to use every bit of available land – parks, schools, companies, backyards, apartment rooftops, and vacant lots to grow their own fruits and vegetables. He believed this would ease the pressure on farmers who were trying to feed Americans, our allies overseas, and then our soldiers.  President Woodrow Wilson said gardening “is just as real and patriotic an effort as the building of ships or the firing of cannon.”

Courtesy of USDA

                                                         

The federal Bureau of Education created the U.S. School Garden Army to urge boys and girls ages 9 to 15 to enlist as “soldiers of the soil.” Funded by the War Department, the Bureau of Education distributed thousands of posters to schools and libraries.  Teachers, women’s clubs and civic groups spread the word. The program became so popular that pamphlets and radio broadcasts provided young gardeners with instructions on how and what to grow.  Like many seed companies, Wagner Park of Sidney, Ohio promoted the program in its catalogs. The project not only raised food, but also morale and patriotic spirit.

Courtesy of USDA

More than one million school children enrolled in the School Garden Army. Agriculture education became part of the curriculum at many schools. Students learned about nature and how to maximize productivity, record germination rates, and note diseases and pests.  According to The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History, the gardens of 50 Cleveland area schools raised and canned produce valued at $100,000! The Cleveland Board of Education thought the program so important it purchased property so that gardens could become permanent.

Nationwide, children planted more than 5.2 million garden plots by 1918. An article in “History” estimated that the school garden army produced 1.5 million quarts of canned fruits and vegetables. When World War I ended, home gardens, by then known as Victory Gardens, declined, only to re-emerge in force when the United States entered the Second World War.

World War I Letter of Dr. Robert C. Gill of Norwalk, Ohio

 

                                                              

Dr. Robert C. Gill
Courtesy of Michael Belis and Find A Grave

Robert C. Gill, M.D. of Norwalk, Ohio wrote the following letter at the close of World War I to Mildred Monnet Laning, wife of Sheldon Laning.  The Lanings were close friends who also lived in Norwalk, Ohio. Gill was a descendant of Huron County, Ohio pioneers. He graduated from Norwalk, Ohio high school and Denison University. He received his medical degree from Western Reserve in 1914 and then served an internship at St. Luke's Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio.

Dr. Gill served in World War I as a medical officer of the 37th Division where he attained the rank of major. He trained in Montgomery, Alabama and saw action on several European fronts, including the Argonne Forest and in Belgium. He was awarded the silver star. Dr. Gill married Olga Schroeder of Youngstown, Ohio in 1922. Following his service, he did graduate work at the New York Optalmic Hospital and then returned to Norwalk, Ohio where he practiced medicine until his death in 1955. 

This letter is part of the Sheldon Laning Local History Miscellaneous Manuscript Collection.

 

Capt. R. C. Gill                                                                   Belgium

140^th Amb. Co.

112 [?] Train

Amer E Force                                                                     November 11, 19

 Dear Mildred:

 Your first letter was read while I was walking down a lane in Belgium just a few hours before we went – no by God I read it the second day of the drive while we were moving up beyond a ridge that the enemy had occupied the night before. And they gave us hell that night. Your letter was in my hand while we passed machine gun pits, artillery and infantry units lying in support while we moved up under shell fire. I wish Tud [Sheldon Laning] could have seen what your letter saw. Since then I have been in another drive that was just getting underway when the armistice came.

 We had our dressing station about ½ mile from the enemy’s line when peace was declared. In the drive before we moved up to 250 yds of the enemy’s first line at night and at dawn the boys went over under a terrific barrage. We got it coming & going but are all here safe now. Believe me folks, it was hot and I tell you I’ve seen all of War that I want. I’ve seen refugee women running towards our lines bar[e]footed, with their hair down, and bleeding from wounds, They really were surrounded by children and sometimes carrying wounded babies. I saw an old man pushing a wheelbarrow with two wounded babies in it. They came streaming in with our wounded and they all had a smile on their faces. Wounded Boche and Boche prisoners. And all the time the houses in the town to our left and the building to our left were crashing under the Boche shells. Trees falling in the distance and the big shells plunging into the canal behind us searching for our pontoons.  Then between us and then. road large geysers of earth would leap into the air. They were trying to get the high road then. Machine guns around us were rattling and one [?] banging in our ears. Once in a while something would swizz thru the air. Besides we had a light attack of sneezing gas. Believe me, one took interest in things. We laid behind straw-stacks til we got word to go forward and then moved cause the Boche were getting our range.

 Some of those things I believe I’ll never forget and some I never want to remember again. I can’t tell you where we are yet because the censor-ship is still on. The Division has made a name for itself. You going to invite me and some nice girl to your house party? I’ll come if you keep your old man from saying embarrassing things and behave yourselves. You try any sfommy [?] in my presence as you two usually do or I'll go you one better or go home or get drunk or something. When I get home I want to get drunk in Cleveland. Can you spare Tud one night to take care of me? Lord know somebody ought to for I sure am going to celebrate, oh Boy. You might keep that cider til I get home – it will be tart alright.

 Just now we are still doing fours right and fours left. It seems strange to see lights in all the houses and to go out in the moonlight and not hear a plane over head. Write soon ”tootsweet” and tell Tud I’m using “commissary” tobacco.  Yours Bob.

 Almost forgot to tell you. I got my captaincy after the first drive and on the third front was given command of the company. It’s a hell of a job taking care of 122 men keeping em fed clothed and in good spirits. They can send me home now and cut out the honors.

 Yours,

Bob

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sinking of the Lusitania

RMS. Lusitania

On May 7, 1915, the RMS Lusitania, the British ocean liner, the largest in the world, was returning to Liverpool, England on her 101^st voyage across the Atlantic. A German U-boat torpedoed and sank her in 18 minutes. Nearly 1200 of some two thousand passengers and crew perished in the attack, including 120 Americans.

Charles Frohman

 Alfred Vanderbilt, one of the world’s richest men and a great sportsman, was aboard. He was headed to England to purchase horses and hunting dogs. Charles Frohman perhaps the greatest theater impresario to have ever lived, had also booked passage.  He was born in Sandusky, Ohio in 1860.  He and his two brothers, Gustave and Daniel, owned and managed a large number of theaters in London, Paris, and New York where their productions were featured. 

                                               

The Royal Navy had blockaded Germany at the start of WWI. Submarine warfare was intensifying by the spring of 1915. The German embassy in the United Sates had placed notices in New York newspapers, warning of dangers of sailing on the Lusitania. She was known as the “Greyhound of the Seas” because of her speed. The Lusitania’s crew and the Cunard Line felt secure in the belief that she could easily out sail any submarine.  However, some Americans did pay heed and the Lusitania left New York with less than half her usual number of passengers.

Alfred Vanderbilt

 Walther Schwieger, captain of U-boat 20 watched the tragedy unfold through his periscope. He wrote in his log that the “ship stops immediately and heals over to starboard quickly, immersing simultaneously at the bow… Great confusion reigns on board.” Indeed, passengers were panic stricken.  The few lifeboats that were loaded and lowered foundered in a matter of minutes, drowning those aboard.

And “Eyewitness to History” article states that Vanderbilt and Frohman went to the ship’s nursery. Hoping to save the babies, the two men tied life jackets to wicker “Moses baskets” that held the little ones.  The baskets were carried off the ship as the water rose, but none survived the wave action created as the enormous vessel sank. 

With Frohman at the end was actress and rising star Rita Jolivet, who survived the tragedy. Testifying at the Enquiry Board, she stated that she, Charles Frohman, and her brother-in-law held hands and went out on deck. "The water swept me away from my brother-in-law and Mr. Frohman."

RMS Lusitania

Americans were outraged when they learned of the sinking.  Germany justified the attack by stating the ship was secretly carrying munitions to help the British war effort. President Woodrow Wilson protested to the Germans.  Americans’ attitudes began to turn against Germany. When the United States entered WWI two years later, the tragedy of the Lusitania was a factor. It was not until 1982 that the British admitted therewas a “large amount of ammunition in the wreck.” It still remains a safety issue to those interested in salvage operations. Charles Frohman’s body was recovered and returned to the United States. He was buried in Queens, New York. 

You can see some of the Frohman theater playbills that are part of the Hayes Presidential Library and Museums’ Frohman Collection. 

   

WWI Creates Suspicion of Loyal German Americans

Courtesy Library of Congress

When America entered the First World War, the Wilson administration launched a massive propaganda campaign against its enemy - Germany. Referred to as “Huns,” Germans were portrayed as inhumane on posters, leaflets, and in advertisements. With 1/3 of the nation’s population composed of immigrants, the federal government feared that many German Americans would become spies or assist the German war effort. The Justice Department kept a list of German aliens. More than 480,000 individuals appeared on the list, of which 4,000 were imprisoned for spying or supporting the German cause.  In its efforts to identify more spies and traitors, the federal government soon began suppressing the German culture.

The campaign worked splendidly. Cities across America went to great lengths to show their allegiance to the United States and help root out spies and sympathizers. Businesses, streets, and towns with German names were changed. Some libraries removed German books from their shelves. The German language was frequently banned in churches and schools. Many with German surnames soon began to Americanize them.

In Sandusky County, Ohio, some German Americans were looked upon with suspicion and attacked for refusing to swear allegiance to the U. S. The most serious incident occurred in the spring of 1918 when a German resident was overheard in a downtown bar supporting the Kaiser. A crowd chased him to another bar, finally capturing him. They took him to his tailor shop. There he was forced to his knees and ordered to kiss the American flag. Defending himself with a club, he declared that one of his sons was in the service and that he himself was actually Russian! But the mob was having none of it. They threw the tailor down the stairs and stuffed the flag down his throat. They then decorated his shop with an abundance of American flags. The “Daily Messenger” wrote that the sheriff housed him for a short period in the city jail for his own protection.  

 The Sedition Act covered a broad range of offenses, including speech and expression of opinion. Only federals could enforce the Sedition Act, but local law officials were compelled to identify and report to the Justice Department those they believed disloyal to the United States. This increased tensions everywhere. Locally, the angry mob moved on to interrogate the loyalty of Rev. Erwin Marker of St. Mark Lutheran Church, Rev. U. S. Bartz of the First Presbyterian Church, Charles Maule who had celebrated after early German victories, and “German Courier” editor Vollmer. Their suspicions were unfounded and nothing came of it. 

It wasn’t long before cooler heads prevailed, first in Gibsonburg, Ohio and then in Fremont. By week’s end, “vigilance” committees were formed. Their purpose was two-fold: to prevent loyal German Americans from being humiliated and to identify those suspected of treason. An enormous “Liberty Parade” was organized for Patriot’s Day. Thousands poured into the streets with flags flying! The local papers featured the event as a patriotic celebration. In reality, those suspected of German sympathies were compelled to demonstrate their allegiance by kissing the American flag, purchasing war bonds, and supporting the Red Cross

Courtesy Library of Congress

As the war turned against the Central Powers and the Sedition Act was repealed, emotions subsided across the country. There were those who secretly believed the government’s tactics had been too heavy handed. Some resented the severe repression of speech. Most German Americans went on with their daily lives, eventually forgiving their neighbors for the hard feelings harbored against them. But in the process, many treasured German traditions were lost forever.

Dalton Smith Hayes World War I Memoir

                                 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 69^th New York Regiment of the famous 42^nd Rainbow Division in Co. D 165^th 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.

ARGONNE FOREST

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 13^th 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 14^th, 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 160^th 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 16^th  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 16^th 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 29^th. 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.

Dalton Hayes
Recovering from Wounds Suffered in the Agronne

ST. MIHIEL

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 11^th 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 1^st 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 15^th 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 89^th 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.     

CHATEAU-THIERRY

It seemed to us that the 42^nd was the only American division in France, for on the 18^th 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 27^th 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 26^th Division and our 84^th 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 4^th 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.

Dalton Hayes
In WWII Dalton Hayes served in intelligence 

Corporal Glenn Burkett, U. S. Army WWI

Corporal Glenn Burkett, Fremont, Ohio 

On July 18, 1918, the Second Battle of the Marne marked the turning of the tide in WWI. It began with the last German offensive of the conflict and was quickly followed by the first allied offensive victory of 1918. It took place in a triangular area bounded by Chateau-Thierry. Soissons and Riems. The American Expeditionary Forces with more than 250,000 men fighting under overall French command played key roles in the initial defense and the later advances. More than 30,000 were killed and wounded. The United States began suffering casualties on an enormous scale that was indicative of the losses that marked the Great War.

 One who took part in the Marne was Glenn Burkett of Fremont, Ohio.  Burkett worked as a night dispatcher for the Lake Shore Electric Railway. In December 1917, Burkett enlisted in the United States Army. He was assigned to the First Trench Mortar Battalion (First Army Corps) and trained at Fort Crockett, Texas. Burkett was shipped overseas on the H. M. T. Kursk as part of Battery "D." He received training in grenade throwing, bayonet practice, and trench mortar drill at Fort de la Bonnelle.

Two months later, Battery "D" took part in the reduction of the salient at St. Mihiel and then marched to the Argonne. He also served as an ammunition carrier for machine gunners of the 305^th and 306^th Infantries of the 77^th Division. The battery also saw action at the Battle of the Meuse. On the 10^th of November, Burkett’s battery received news of the armistice. On January 29, 1919, Burkett left France aboard the U.S.S. Virginia to return to America, arriving at Newport News two and one-half weeks later. Corporal Burkett was discharged from Camp Sherman, Chillicothe, Ohio, on March 13, 1919.

Burkett wrote the following in his diary, which is part of his two-volume record of his WWI service in the Hayes Library’s Manuscripts Division. Names of French locations are spelled just as Corporal Burkett wrote them in his diary. To learn more about his service in WWI, follow the link to a description of his collection that is part of the Local History collection. Burkett included pictures and biographical sketches of those who served with him; daily diary entries; overall explanation of the battles in which he particpated; and photographs of French locations.

http://www.rbhayes.org/hayes/mssfind/285/burkettglenn.htm

I suppose there are many other things to be proud of, but being where we were on July 19^th and the following days is just about the best thing that ever happened to us. The fun all started here and stayed with us for four months or more. Like all the Army we had our regular crabs and growls, but it’s got Vitry beat ten ways going and coming. Three enemy machine guns were taken over here, and although nobody knew beans about ‘em, we fired them at every boche plane that we even heard, much to the Majors and Captains disgust. A la the Major we remember “Ger-ry-mon-ey”, What is that? “Whizz-bang, Sir? and the fun that followed. But Lt. Dennis was in for blazing away, and blaze away the machine guns did.

When the order was issued to dig-in, the sand was gently brushed to one side, making a hole about an inch in depth. Fine Dug-out. If it were up to the Americans to have dug-outs, there wouldn’t be such a thing. Digging dug-outs is all a waste of time, to the American notion, but when they are already dug, well that’s a different thing.

The 26^th.Division, the 32^nd, the 42^nd, and a few other stray outfits were mixed up in the counter attack around that neck of the woods, all of them being parts of the First Army Corps, the largest unit of the American Army then organized. Near our last location on that front, was a Big Bertha enplacement, close to the Coincy Aviation field, just outside of Fere-en-Tardenois. Along the roads from that town to Soissons and the Chateau-Thierry, in the heat and dust of summer roads, came the non-forgetable picture of emmence traffic that is caused when an Army Advances. Traffic had all been going south, you might say, for months, and the sudden change was like letting loose a long restrained dam of trucks. Wagons, people and soldiers, for that is the way the American Army went after the astounded Dutchmen when the tide turned. That time in the summer, how long ago it seems.

Looking back now, it seems like a paradise, compared to sitting around a cold barracks in the winter, Waiting. August 12^th 1918 we with-drew to the hang-out at Germigny, for a few days recuperation, then, on the 18^th day of August we hiked it to the La-Ferte-Sous-Jouarre then headquarters for the First Army Corps, and entrained Monday August 19^th 1918, for other ports. 

Thru Reims, Chalons and Epernay, all night travel we arrived at Wassy, detrained and marched to the quiet unsuspecting little dried up village of Arranacourt, all on the day of August 20^th. 1918. In six days rest at this peaceful little place, we found the only startling thing was to much blackberry short cake. This haven for bums was deserted August 27^th. And on the hob-nailed specials came into their own in three days one-two-three-four thru Joinville, Houdelaincourt and Vancouleurs, to Pagny-sur-Meuse, stubble and freshly plowed fields being the bed for aching feet and bodies at night. Pagny-sur-Meuse proved to be another pup-tented area, on the banks of the Meuse. The moving tractors at night, and propaganda from enemy planes by day were the chief amusement here. August 31^st. we packed the roll once more, marched thru Teul in the hour that made September Morn famous, and arrived at the Jallion woods on dawning Sunday morning, General Ligget inspected the picket line and bits of equipment. Two days here and the Army was again on the move, this time under fire, into the Foret de Peuvenelle the original home of rain as it appears when looking at the ocean. The square heads bombed us every time they smoked a cigarette, and the balloon outfit down the road had the windlass hot all the time. September 7^th. 1918 the Battery footed it out of that place for Montauville (Thru Pont-a-Musson) and into the positions in the Bois le Pretre, on the extreme right of the Saint Mihiel salient , for eight nights and days without rest, only grabbing an occasional hunk of beef, bread and cup of java, the men beavered away on the positions where we were to first use the “Helluve gun to get the Hun”

This particular spot was known as Dead Mans Hill, for the French had lost so many lives holding it as the final point of resistance against the enemy in 1916. Across the ravine (for that is all it is) were the German trenches in full view of our peering eyes, and the machine-gunners who were waiting for our peering eyes to pop out far enough to warrant a shot. The path from “P.C” to No.3, enplacement was a walk that openly envited a shot, and if Heinie wasn’t asleep he didn’t pass you by without a greeting. The kitchen here was right out in the open, so were all the emplacements, and also the ammunition pile and the emplacements used were old ones of the French which would have been fine dope for Fritzies intelligence department had he known it.  

Colonel Webb C. Hayes during World War I

Colonel Webb C. Hayes, second son of President Rutherford B. Hayes, is pictured here(fourth from the left) with Italian aviators at the airport in Italy's Padua province in December 1917. Webb served as a special agent for the State Department until the French government’s withdrawal from Paris. Commissioned a full colonel when the United States entered the war, Hayes was sent to the Italian front where he served as a regional commander of the American Expeditionary Force. 

Who Are These WWI Soldiers??

During the 1980s, Hayes Presidential Center staff made a concerted effort to interview WWI soldiers and record their  wartime experiences. These included not only Sandusky Countians, but also others who served from Northwest Ohio. Among the files were several unidentified photographs of WWI soldiers in uniform. It seems likely they were from Sandusky County or Northwest Ohio. Can anyone identify these two young soldiers? If so, please contact Nan Card, Curator of Manuscripts, Hayes Presidential Center, Spiegel Grove, Fremont, Ohio 43420 or ncard@rbhayes.org (1/800-998-7737 x 239) 

Lt. Charles J. Hammer: 147th Infantry Regiment WWI



Charles J. Hammer
Fostoria, Ohio



 

Charles J. Hammer, born in Fostoria in Seneca County enlisted in Fremont, Ohio, in the 6th Ohio National Guard in 1917 at the age of 25. At the outbreak of WWI, the Ohio National Guard protected tunnels, viaducts, bridges, docks, and railroads throughout the state. The 6th Ohio spent part of its time at Mingo Junction. Company K, 6th Ohio was federalized March 17, 1917. It became part of the 147th Infantry.

 

Charles J. Hammer
Mingo Junction
1917

 

Camp Sheridan

 Montgomery, Alabama



The 147th Infantry was part of the 37th Division, originally known as "Ohio's Own" and later the "Buckeye Division." The division trained at Camp Sheridan outside Montgomery,  Alabama, which was constructed as training took place. As pictured above, the camp was largely made up of tents.

Charles J. Hammer with his future wife Helen Keller
1917

2nd Lt. Charles J. Hammer
Final Day of Service
December 24, 1918

Charles Hammer left the service as a second lieutenant in December of 1918. He served as Sandusky County, Ohio's auditor from 1953 to 1965. He was a member of American Legion Post No. 121. He passed away in Fremont June 25, 1992 at the age of 99. These photographs and others of Lt. Hammer were donated to the Hayes Presidential Center. 

 

(The 147th was shipped overseas in June 1918. After further combat training, the 147th was ordered to the Baccarat Sector. They fought at the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, St. Mihiel, in Belgium at Ypres-Lys, and Lorraine.) Learn about Sandusky Countian Clarence Childs who also served in the 147th on Paper Trail.

 

World War I centenary commemorations will take place in 2014 and continue through 2018.

Corporal Elton Mackin: World War I Marine

Corporal Elton Mackin
WWI Marine, 1918

Born in 1898 in Lewiston, New York, Elton Mackin enlisted in the United States Marine Corps in 1917. After training at Parris Island, South Carolina, Mackin was sent to Europe, where he served as a battalion runner for the 67th Company 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, United States Army Regulars. This highly decorated Marine fought in every Marine Brigade battle from Belleau Wood to the crossing of the Meuse on the eve of the Armistice. Mackin was awarded the United States Army Distinguished Service Cross, the Navy Cross, and two Army Silver Star citations. He was honorably discharged from the United States Marine Corps in May 1919.

Mackin moved to Norwalk, Ohio in 1935. He began writing a memoir of his WWI experience. Excerpts from his manuscript, "Flashes and Fragments," appeared in Leatherneck Magazine. Essays that appeared later in the American Heritage magazine caught the eye of Marine Corps historian George B. Clark. Believing that Mackin's memoir provided a unique viewpoint of the war - "an enlisted man's viewpoint" and that of a "young man who suffered." Clark sought out the Mackin family. Although Private Mackin had passed away in 1974, his son, Wallace Mackin, shared the memoir and the taped oral interviews. The oral account assisted Clark in developing annotations for the manuscript that was eventually published in 1993 as Suddenly We Didn't Want To Die: Memoirs of a World War I Marine. 

Elton Mackin’s oral interview was conducted by the late Carl D. Klopfenstein, Professor of History at Heidelberg College. The interview was conducted at Mackin’s home at 116 Milan Avenue, Norwalk, Ohio on June 29, 1973. Following the interview, a rough draft transcription was produced. Using the draft and the audiotapes that are part of the Elton Mackin Collection at the Hayes Presidential Center, the digitized transcription was created. It is available by following this link.  Due to the poor quality of the audiotapes,  errors exist.