Emil Gansser - On the Battlefields of France 1918

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ON THE BATTLE FIELDS OF FRANCE, 1918

By

EMIL B. GANSSER

Formerly Captain 126 th Inft. 32 nd Div.

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER

The author of this book was Captain of Company M, Thirty-Second Infantry, Michigan National Guard when on April 6, 1917, our Government declared war against Germany. The regiment was mustered into Federal Service July 15 th and a few weeks later its designation was changed to the 126 th Infantry of the newly formed 32 nd Division of the Army which trained at Camp MacArthur, Texas, until mid-January when it travelled to Hoboken and boarded troop ships bound for France, arriving at Brest on Mar. 4 th , 1918. After debarking, the regiment went by train to St. Nazaire where it functioned as labor troops for five weeks and then travelled by train to Eastern France. On May 20 th the regiment entered the front line trenches in Alsace near Hecken and occupied them until July 24 th when it was rushed to Chteau-Thierry and took part in the Second Battle of the Marne. A few weeks later it fought in the Aisne-Marne Offensive after which it proceeded to the Meuse-Argonne sector where it engaged in continuous combat action from September 29 th to October 19 th without any rest and was in the front line on Armistice day. The Division was one of three which led our armys advance into Germany, crossing the Rhine River Dec. 13 th and occupying part of the Bridgehead until late in April, 1919, during which period the author was again in command of his old company.

The author wrote the history of the 126 th Infantry in World War I and this book, written a few years after his return from the War, is a true factual story of his experiences and personal emotions during his service in the war. The names of individuals mentioned in this volume are fictitious, although their true names will be readily recognized by their former comrades.

EMIL B. GANSSER,

Formerly Captain 126 th Infantry

This book is dedicated to the men and women of our Country who served in its wars with other Nations, either at home or abroad, and to the memory of those who made the supreme sacrifice in such service.

It is early June, 1918. Heinie Workman and I have just rejoined our company after a months attendance at an infantry school of instruction in Gondrecourt. During our absence our Division had moved from our training area and taken over a sector of the front and our company, which has just been relieved after a twelve day hitch in the front line, is now in the secondary defense line, and occupying billets in Angeot which is within a stones throw of the boundary posts between Frame and Alsace. Our duties require us to reconnoiter the terrain and the trench system in this position and as we are walking along a country road engaged in this duty, from out of the sky come a frightful hissing sound as a shell, the first I have heard, comes speeding toward us.

There are five officers in our group and instinctively all of us, except Ed Stoner, flatten ourselves in a shallow ditch at the side of the road and wait with bated breath for the shell to strike. In a fraction of a second it bursts with a thunderous roar a hundred yards behind us. After it crashes I raise my head the while I wait in suspense for the arrival of another shell and notice that Stoner is still on the road and seemingly bent on disregarding the danger from any more bursting shells. As I watch him strolling idly about on the road I wonder if he is enjoying the experience of being under shell fire, for during a spirited discussion about the hazards of warfare back home in the Armory near a year ago, he had declared he was itching for a fling at some real battle action. Carl Nelson, who did not share Stoners urge for the excitement of battle, bluntly told him that, Anyone hankering to risk having his hide punctured by bullets or shrapnel is just a plain fool.

Ignoring Nelsons rebuke, Stoner ranted on and calmly professed he was curious to know just how one would feel in battle and that he was looking forward to the time when he could experience the thrill of being under fire. Workman, the first to recover his wits after Stoners stunning profession, exclaimed caustically, Man, you must be crazy! If you really have a craving to face real bullets just for the thrill of it, as you claim, you ought to have your head examined!

Yeh, there must be some nuts loose in your upper story, Sy West added.

At any other time Stoners profession would have been passed off as mere idle chatter, but as our Government had just declared war against the German Empire, the perils of combat on the battle field was uppermost in our thoughts and why anyone should want to risk the danger of gun fire just for a thrill was simply beyond the comprehension of Nelson and the others. Stoners profession, however, was no surprise to me, for after years of soldiering with him I came to know that he was disposed to seek adventure and that he derived a keen delight from the performance of some risky stunt.

My reflections are suddenly interrupted by the disquieting sound of another shell speeding toward us. Again Stoner seeks no shelter while the rest of us hug the bottom of the ditch and listen with shaking fear as the shell passes within a few feet from our heads and crashes a short distance behind us. A half dozen more shells burst around us and as the Boche gunners decide to waste no more big shells on our group, we arise from the ditch and continue on with our survey of the terrain in the immediate vicinity.

Up the road a ways from our billets a farmer has rare wine and champagne to sell. In the orchard back of his home is a rustic table and two benches and we make the orchard our rendezvous while in Angeot. Nearly every evening we assemble around the rustic table and sing and make merry until late into the night while the farmers two pretty daughters, wearing natty white aprons, serve us with champagne from bottles which they fish out from under a pile of old, musty hay under the barn.

Happy laughter and song fills the night air as the charming young ladies see to it that our glasses are constantly primed with the bubbling beverage. Our singing, which grows in volume as corks pop from the bottles in a near rhythmic cadence, is punctuated now and then by a blast from Heinie as he hilariously proclaims, I call this a damn fine war, and from now on Im going to do all my fighting right here, says I!

As the time for us to take our turn in the front line is due in a few days and the prospects for any more social gatherings are remote, we indulge in our merriment on these pleasant June evenings with a carefree abandonment and our hosts stock of the sparkling beverage diminishes at a rapid rate. Our stay in Angeot, with its enjoyable gatherings, ends on June 20 th when orders are received to relieve another company in the front. Stoner is assigned temporarily to another company and Heinie is made battalion gas officer, so Nelson, West and I are the only ones of our group remaining with the company.