Dick Camp - The Devil Dogs at Belleau Wood: U.S. Marines in World War I

U.S. MARINES IN WORLD WAR I

DICK CAMP

Dick Camp is a retired Marine Corps colonel and the author of Lima-6, the critically acclaimed Vietnam War memoir of his service as a Marine infantry company commander at Khe Sanh. He is also the author of three previous works of military history from Zenith Press, Battleship Arizonas Marines at War, Iwo Jima Recon, and Leatherneck Legends: Conversations with the Marine Corps Old Breed. Camp is currently the vice president for museum operations at the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation, which, in conjunction with the Marine Corps, oversees the National Museum of the Marine Corps. Camp resides in northern Virginia.

On the cover: A 37mm gun crew from Headquarters Company, 6th Marines, in the dense, heavily shelled Argonne Forest in the fall of 1918; these were the same conditions they had faced in Belleau Wood in June, which lay less than a hundred miles to the east. National Archives

On the frontispiece: The Marine Corps quickly capitalized on the Devil Dog nickname by producing a recruiting poster. Marine Corps History Division

On the title pages: Marine combat artist Tom Lovells rendition of the attack in Belleau Wood. Marine Corps History Division

On the back cover: Cleaning out machine-gun nests in Belleau Wood. Frank E. Schoonover

Sergeants Clint Owens and Michael Ervin represent U.S. Marine buglers past and present in a 2006 memorial ceremony at the Aisne-Marne Cemetery, in Belleau, France, where 2,289 U.S. service members lay at rest. The surrounding French countryside was the site of a pivotal battle of World War I, the last major German offensive of the war. The battle, which halted the German advance toward Paris, was gruesome and bloody, and record Marine Corps casualties would not be topped until the recapture of Tarawa in November 1943. Staff Sgt. Will Price, USMC

Some years ago I was on leave at my parents home in upper New York. With little to do except get fat from my mothers cooking, I decided to try and locate a former Marine in Rochester, an hours drive away. It was a spur of the moment thing. I didnt have a phone number, only an address almost a fools errand. Surprisingly, I found the modest house in an older section of the city. I took the chance that he was home and rang the doorbell. After some moments the door opened and an older gentleman peered out, a look of genuine surprise on his face as he scrutinized my Marine officers green uniform. I explained the purpose of my visitand he was kind enough to invite me in.

We went into his living room, and for the next two hours, Mr. Robert Benedict, former private, 82nd Company, 6th Marine Regiment, regaled me with stories of his service in France during the Great War. Despite being well into his seventh decade of life, his account was lucid and rich in detaildelivered in a matter-of-fact manner, without false bravado. He described coming of age during the realistic combat training in the harsh winter and spring of 1918. As warm weather lightened spirits, rumors swept the ranks that the Germans were on the move. Bob became more animated as he related the feeling of excitement during the forced march to the front. I believe in his minds eye he saw again those long lines of green uniformed youngsters striding confidently forward. He quite proudly told me how his company commander picked him to be a runner, a mark of honor.

Bob related how his company reached a wood and formed an assault formation. On signal, they advanced by platoon, line abreast, beyond the tree line into an open field of waist-high wheat. Just then his voice caught, and he struggled to continue. I broke in, hoping to give him time to recover. Where were you? I asked. After a long moment, he replied, Why, it was Belleau Wood. Bob excused himself and said, I cant go on, its too painful, too many upsetting memories.

A chill went up my spine, as the realization hit me that the old man sitting across from me was the living embodiment of the Corps mystiqueBelleau Wood was synonymous with Marine valor and sacrificethat is instilled in every new Marine.

Years later, I invited Gen. Lemuel C. Shepherd, the retired twentieth commandant of the Marine Corps, to attend a meeting of my junior officers at the San Diego Officers Club. The old man totally captivated them, as he talked about his forty-two years of active service. An officer asked a final question. General, what was the worst thing you faced during your four decades of service? Shepherd did not miss a beat, Machine guns at Belleau Wood.

I remembered those incidents as if they were yesterday. Those two old men were my link with the old Corpsand in a fashion, they forged a link between their generation and mine. The history of the Corps, in many respects, is an oral account of the past, as told by one Marine to another. In a sense, The Devil Dogs at Belleau Wood is a written oral history.

Well-known artist Howard Chandler Christys stylized recruiting poster. Marine Corps History Division

Hundreds of flag-waving Washingtonians lined the streets from the White House to Capitol Hill waiting to catch a glimpse of President Woodrow Wilson as he made his way to address a joint session of Congress. The jingle of equipment and the striking of steel-shod hooves on the pavement announced the arrival of his entourage. A squadron of mounted cavalry from the garrison at Fort Meyers surrounded the presidents carriage. A nervous secretary of war had ordered the armed escort because of a concern for Wilsons safety.

Passions were riding high. More than a thousand demonstrators from the Emergency Peace Foundation descended on the capitol. Groups of them waylaid members of Congress in the corridors. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge had a violent disagreement with one particularly aggressive protester and was assaulted. It was reported that the aging legislator gave as good as he got. I am glad that I hit him, an unrepentant Lodge related. The senators all appeared to be perfectly delighted with my having done so.

War fever gripped the country, forcing the president to throw off the cloak of neutrality after a series of provocative German crimes against humanity, culminating in the sinking of three unarmed American merchant shipsCity of Memphis, Illinois, and Vigilanciaby enemy U-boats (submarines). Fifteen seamen were lost. Wilson strode through the congressional chambers jam-packed aisle to the podium. In a low, dispassionate voice... he recounted the German outrages, the spying, the sabotage, and the barbarities of submarine attacks. At one point he spoke the phrase that came to frame Americas war aim, Keep the world safe for democracy, which brought the entire assembly to its feet in a roar of approval. Later, in a conversation with his private secretary, Wilson anguished over his comments, My message today was a message of death for our young men.