Memorable March from Pont-Sassy, France

Saturday, November 23

The letter C is embroidered in all the clothing we found in the boxes. This is the same initial I found in all the books. All this must belong to F. Cordonier, a teacher from Mont.

We were paid after breakfast and were as happy as if we had been made governors of a deserted island. I imagined this because the only settlements before us are the desolate, sad villages that served as the final battlefields we took by force from the Germans on the Meuse. We can only spend our money at the canteens the YMCA operates. The staff has been following us like seagulls or sharks that want to devour us. They give out some of what America sends its children and sells the rest. War stirs the waters and makes for good fishing.

My buddies and I bought French cookies and canned peaches and acted like kids in a candy store. We bought the sweets more out of curiosity than hunger. We must be fair toward our government and acknowledge that it supplies its military very well. This was done in spite of all the crooked leaders’ waste and thievery, by the bums who enrich themselves with complete disregard for the “cannon fodder.” Moreover, the meticulous plans to supply an army fell apart under the whirlwind of war. We must conclude that our military really took care of us. Just compare our daily rations with those of any other army in battle. How many of us would have survived with only a bit of wine, some raw potatoes, and a piece of “army bread”?

We had just returned from the YMCA when we were ordered to move out.

Our forced march was very difficult because of our heavy load. The village of Mont looked lovely as we departed. We had a beautiful sunny afternoon and entered Mouzay as it was getting dark. A thousand memories of the tragic battle of November 10 and 11 rushed in.

Since we did not find shelter, some of us continued walking. This is how we reached Stenay, the last village we took from a stubborn enemy. This speaks well for the 90th Division. We took the village by brute force and against a terrible curtain of machine gun fire.

Stenay was already packed with soldiers on their way to Germany. This is where we met up with the thousands of French soldiers with their eternal and boisterous talk about so many topics. We found shelter in a building that may have served as a machine shop or factory for the French and then for the Germans. I was exhausted and so were all my buddies. We set up our beds right away and then had the best meal in the field, canned tomatoes with sugar, “cornwillie,” and “hardtack.” No king with his roasted wild boar and golden pheasant has ever been more satisfied. We were certainly the objects of envy. Soldiers to the manor born who are lazy or pretentious reject the hardtack and canned meats, whether horse, bull, or whatever. They throw the rations away soon after they receive them. I would eat something else at home, but not while at war and in a foreign land. I normally carry double rations. Dimwits are always ready to pay for them when we prepare to eat. Money has no value on these occasions.

Sunday, November 24

We really missed our Mont stove because the mornings have never been so cold. The ground was white with frost. We had just finished breakfast when the sergeant major ordered everyone to bathe immediately. We found a small cauldron in an old dilapidated house. The hovel could not be heated with all the lumber in the world, much less with the few chips and dry branches we were able to find. Many soldiers were in line for their turn to bathe. Everyone wanted to be first so they could end the torture of freezing feet. The bathing proceeded very slowly. Finally, a counterorder was given to finish with the bathing, return to the village, and continue the march. We applauded the decision and the soldiers ended the general cursing that had been directed against the person who came up with the great idea of ordering baths in that cold weather and under such bad conditions. The war is over and arrogant minds that had frozen with fear are once again victimizing us. They reappear, thirsting for glory and authority.

We left at ten and passed by two pretty little towns, Baâlon and Juvigny. During the march, we observed several landing fields for German planes. Some planes were in ruins. We also saw a good number of German graves. They are very well arranged, which makes us think they died during the early part of the war. The ones who died later were not even buried, leaving a great deal of work for our sappers.

Shortly after midday, we heard the clear roar of an enemy plane flying close to us. We were marching on a level and open field and our troops looked like a dark snake along the meandering road. We saw the German black cross under its wings and wondered at the strange sight, but calmed down when we learned the plane would be guiding us through the unfamiliar country. We were told that one of our officers was flying the plane, which had been taken from the enemy. At any rate, our nerves were on edge, they have not yet returned to their normal condition. At Juvigny I had the opportunity to see the biggest ammunition dump ever. The stockpile consisted of artillery shells of every caliber. How many millions of wasted dollars! How many millions of precious lives saved!

It was practically dark when we arrived at Marville. A dense fog in the early afternoon had already turned into rain. Marville has no sign of shell damage. The place has very respectable-looking buildings and we selected a large, old two-story house as our dormitory. We did not stay in the rooms but in the attic, where the locals keep hay for their cattle. We looked for the mess hall after setting up our beds, ate, and quickly returned to our manger to rest and prepare for the following day.

Monday, November 25

The day began with rain. The few towns we have seen lately present us with different panoramic views that are engraved in our minds. When we return home and are asked about the towns we saw, we will automatically think of the narrow, winding streets, the familiar two-wheeled carts that seemed to move without a set purpose, the different types and shapes of houses hugging the sides of the streets, the slowly rising chimney smoke that mixes with the fog and sometimes turns into continuous rain, and rainwater running everywhere, from the rooftops and over the stone-paved streets. To complete the picture, our soldiers appear as silhouettes in raincoats as they jump over the muddy, waterlogged potholes like a bunch of drenched mice. At this juncture, we can definitely say, “C’est la France par les soldats américaines de 1918.”

Our usual walks through the streets are mostly meant to break the monotony in our lives. We are most noticeably excited when we eat. Chow time is important in our lives. We would never miss the opportunity to inconvenience our K.P.s for anything in the world. We can also behave outrageously. When we have the money, we buy substitutes for our breakfast or our lunch of mush, hash, “cornwillie,” and “hardtack.” We return to our kitchens when we run out of money. Our cooks are the men of the hour these days. We praise them when they treat us well but say harsh things when we are made to wait in line for a long time. Poor souls! They will never receive their just dues for all their troubles. They were always exposed to the cold weather and rain, as well as the downpour of shrapnel when they were feeding empty stomachs at the front.

Officers ordered us to stop marching and to remain in Marville, probably to allow our vanguard to reach Germany first. The stands at the YMCA are still very popular. We frequent them to spend what little we have left. Some of the soldiers believe we are buying many things the government should be supplying us with, but since we have no choice, we buy everything we can. We hear that in America many people think we are having a great time. We cannot explain this. Life in this place leaves a lot to be desired, even after the war. As far as the YMCA is concerned, we have little to say. We have always seen it as a business, despite its religious and missionary purpose. When we hear that a new YMCA is opening its doors, “we immediately dig into our pockets.” If they are empty, the YMCA is of little interest, unless we hear they are giving away small pieces of chocolate, French cookies, postcards, or cigarettes. If this is the case, we run to see what we can get, although we know this is the bait.

The government continues to give us Christmas cards to write home.

The rain came down harder after the noon hour so I stayed in my hiding place, read the newspapers, and talked with some friends who kept me company. It was already very dark when I went out for dinner. I sensed it was getting late. I cannot say I missed it since I managed to get enough “slops” and had a good conversation with my friends, the K.P.s.

My Dear wife:

As much as we try to hurry and finish with everything we have to do, it will not be possible to be with you at Christmas, but we should be happy and relieved that we are still standing and can hope to see each other again. We have to believe that our children’s prayers were not in vain.

It will be Christmas when this reaches you. I wish all of you happiness!

These are my wishes,

LUZ

Tuesday, November 26

After eating breakfast, I ran into Fortino Treviño, my longtime friend from Alice. I had not seen him since before Armistice Day, and so our meeting was a happy one. We talked of all our escapades in the war and ended up sharing memories of our relations in America. Treviño was giving me a haircut when his captain arrived. He introduced me to the officer in a good-natured, down-home way. The captain treats his men well. Good for him! He spoke highly of Treviño’s courage on the battlefield.

I am older than Fortino and have known him since he was a youngster in school, when we would get into fights with the “gringos.” Those were the happy days of fistfights and scrapes! He was born in the Rancho de los Sáenz, in Starr County, but grew up in Alice. His parents are well respected in our community. His brothers are energetic like Fortino, but he was always more boisterous and restless, more adventuresome. I remember that he was among the very few who never allowed Anglo students to humiliate him. He followed our footsteps and suffered the worst of the blows directed at us. In the end, they showed us consideration and respect. This is what someone who fights for justice should always expect.

Few were as willing as Fortino to meet their responsibility to register for military service on the fifth of June. He always wanted to serve next to the soldiers who were to cross the Atlantic, but not with the others who were leaving for Mexico. He registered, received his classification, and was among the first to be recruited. This is how this humble soldier of our raza met his responsibility. He was a true representative of the good name, worth, and honor of our brave and self-respecting Mexican people.

Fortino’s parents—like mine and the majority who love their children—would never have asked for a social calamity like the one that tore their children from the bosom of their homes, but they finally gave in to our wishes and burning desire to fulfill the loftiest responsibility of a loyal citizen.

Treviño never thought he would lose his life in the war. This was his faith and his form of resignation. We always saw an indestructible spirit in him. He made good use of his time while assigned to the brigade in San Antonio and during our quarantine—when we could not even go out for a haircut. He acquired a set of haircutting tools and worked on his soldier-brothers by the latrines, on a bench or wooden box. Fortino would send his earnings to his father to set up the best barbershop in Alice. He wanted to return to a good job, and if he was to die, Fortino wanted to leave all he could to his father. He sent good amounts every month. I sent several of his remittances by mail and cable. Fortino practiced his trade at Camp Travis, while traveling across the country by Pullman car, on the Olympic, during our last training activities in France, and in the trenches when grenades were exploding over us and he was lobbing his own and calling on us to move: Forward!

Some soldiers may have matched Treviño’s bravery, but I do not believe that many, if any, outdid his sense of loyal responsibility. He faced many dangers and found himself in very critical situations, like all the rest of us who smelled the explosives at the Saint-Mihiel and Verdun fronts. The Germans tore up his backpack at Verdun, but he simply replaced it with another and, Forward!

I am grateful to Treviño for giving me the small book that became the “diary” for all my entries. A fellow barber gave him the book while on our trip across the sea. Fortino immediately came to me and in his plain and sincere manner told me, “Sáenz, you need this more than me.” The book was destined for the subjects of her majesty George V of England and included valuable information.

General Headquarters of the 180th Infantry Brigade of the United States Expeditionary Force1

November 24, 1918

MEMORANDUM

To the officers and soldiers of the Texas Brigade.

In his farewell letter, the division commander extended the highest praise to your abilities as soldiers. I previously reported that the commanding general of the First Expeditionary Force of the United States had informed the commander in chief that “the 90th Division was as good a division . . . that no other division surpassed it. The division is as good and worthy of our trust as any other in the military.” We could not expect a greater tribute. We should recall its record so that you may better appreciate such high praise:

On September 12 the men of the 90th Division were baptized under fire when they broke through the trenches and barbed wire, the so-called Quart-en-Reserve, far west of the memorable Bois-le-Prete. In defending the southern portion of the forest, the French reported they lost twenty-three thousand soldiers, of which eight thousand died. On September 13, we (the 360th infantry) took the entire Bois-le-Prete without any problems and significant losses—and extended our operations up to the Moselle River.

On September 26, you advanced your lines of fire very close to Prény and Pagny-sur-Moselle, and took part in the general offensive that the entire front made from the Moselle to the English Channel. You were relieved on the evening of October 9 and 10 to march to the front of the Argonne.

Between September 12 and 29, the 360th Infantry captured prisoners from German Infantry Regiments 94, 106, and 155. The 359th Infantry captured soldiers from German Infantry Regiments 69, 94, and 155 and Artillery Regiment 15.

By October 23 you were at the Meuse-Argonne front and were given the opportunity to attack Freya Stellung on September 1 and 2. You advanced from Dun-sur-Meuse to the Tileries ranch, in a seven-kilometer sector. The Freya Stellung was the last German line of defense, and it served as the pivot for their whole system from the north of France to Belgium where it reached the Meuse River.

You completely destroyed the enemy in Andevanne and in Villers-devant-Dun. Your bold assault in a four-kilometer front has never been unmatched in the entire war because it was superbly executed with fierce action. This put the entire German army in danger. We later heard the cry for an armistice and the total collapse of the war.

The 360th took forty riflemen; 110 foot soldiers of the reserve infantry and of the 352nd Infantry. The 359th captured forty riflemen, 109 infantrymen, and 110 soldiers of the enemy’s 120th Infantry, the 123rd Infantry, and the 426th Infantry.

The 359th and 160th Infantry (although neither one received credit) captured soldiers from 170th; the 353rd Infantry took some from the 10th, 14th, and 80th Artillery, and from 163rd, 223rd, 235th, 426th, and the 35th. They also took prisoners from other auxiliary groups like miners, machine gunners, engineers, signalmen, doctors, etc.

Between October 4 and November 11, the division captured twenty-one officers and 954 other men. They captured three 210-millimeter cannon, eight 160-millimeter cannon, nine 105-millimeter cannon, and twelve 77-millimeter cannon. The prisoners came from the 11th Infantry Regiment, the 7th Artillery Regiment, a Signal Company, and other auxiliary groups.

We will always remember Bois-de-Rappes, Bois-de-Bantheville, La Grande Correre, Andevanne, Côte 243, Côte 321, and Villers-devant-Dun. Your machine gun companies will never forget that they discharged 1,150,000 shells between November 1 and 2.

This brigade should be credited with the highest honor of never losing one soldier to desertions. You always faced the enemy, and during the night before the Armistice, you were facing them ready to strike on the dawn of the memorable eleventh. You have shared equally with the best and have deserved everything. You are soldiers and I am proud of you.

Ulysses Grant McAlexander

Brigadier General

Wednesday, November 27

The day began with rain, but the band raised our spirits. It is impossible to truly understand the power of music, especially when we are already disposed to be moved. The music has made us think that if there was ever a time to feel as we do, it happened when we found ourselves “so close to God,” when we went through so much grief and suffering, and now that we are entertaining the sweet hope of returning to the love of our families.

We again bought food in preparation for our departure. We are now aware that the lack of food and exhaustive marches can make things difficult for us. The more we are prepared, the better.

The rain kept me from exploring the towns along the way.

I received a letter from Mr. Knox. He sent me a clipping of one of my letters that appeared in La Prensa. Mr. Knox mostly sends me his congratulations and praise for the conduct of my raza in these parts. He urges me to continue writing and informing our community about what we are doing. I am grateful to this good and generous educator who understands us and wants us to receive justice.