With Their Bare Hands

The battered 79th wended its way back through the familiar towns of Malancourt, Avocourt, and Esnes. By October 2 the division, except for its engineers and field hospitals, had entered bivouac at Jouy-en-Argonne, 12 miles south of the Meuse–Argonne line. Trailing the procession were the MPs and the 304th Supply Train, which had the job of cleaning up the roads behind them. It wasn’t easy, as the 79th was going south on the same roads that the 3rd was using to come north. Although 18 of the division’s trucks had been wrecked by overturns or shell fire, all were retrieved—the division didn’t lose a truck.¹ They rested for a day; then Kuhn issued Field Order No. 11, ordering the 79th to hit the road that night. For a destination he gave only the sector of the “II Colonial Corps,” a French organization unknown to the men, who assumed that they were going to a rest area. A little later a supplement to the order specified that three columns would march respectively to Ancemont, Senoncourt, and les Monthairons—villages on the west bank of the Meuse, about six miles south of Verdun. The men had never heard of these places, certainly not in connection with any military action. But it was clear they would be moving south, which to them meant away from the front. Buoyed by the prospect, the 79th made good time in its march on the night of October 3–4. In the morning they rested, concealed by woods from German planes. On the afternoon of the 4th they left for a two-day march southward, glad still to be headed away from the line. En route, they received Field Order No. 12: they were to “relieve the 26th Division in the Troyon Sector during the night of October 7–8, 1918. The relief of the infantry and of the machine guns will be completed by the morning of 8th October.” The meaning was clear: the 26th, whose sector the 79th would be taking over, had held the north part of the line on the old St Mihiel battlefield since activity there had ended on September 16. This was no rest area.²

And they needed rest. Captain Antoine Brondelle, a French observer with the 313th Infantry, wrote in his report, “The men are very tired as a result of their loss of initiative and also because their leaders appear uninterested in the physical and moral condition of their troops.”³ General A.W. Brewster, Inspector General of the Army, rated the division’s morale as good but its physical condition as poor.⁴ Lieutenant Colonel Harvey Cushing, a neurosurgeon in Field Hospital No. 6, had a private conversation with Brewster and wrote in his diary, “We have unquestionably been severely handled ... The 79th came out much bedraggled, and General Brewster says it will probably be broken up or have its number changed, as there’s no use trying to build up an esprit from a unit with a bad name.”*⁵ General Kuhn himself was feeling the effects of the past week. In his diary he wrote, “Paid a visit to the troops and did what I could to cheer them up ... Many stragglers which is the most discouraging feature of the affair ... Troops arriving painfully and much used up.”⁶ To make matters worse, he came down with the flu that was now ravaging the AEF.† For almost two weeks the burden of running the division fell on Tenney Ross and a few others of his staff. By October 8 Kuhn was starting to recover and wrote to his wife:

I am up for the first time after 10 days of wretched sickness, following immediately on the heels of the big fight. The Division has been withdrawn to another part of the line to reorganize and prepare for further fighting. We are getting into shape rapidly and will no doubt be called upon to try it again. The division did very well in my opinion although it failed to accomplish the full task set to it at the beginning of operations. For that matter so did others. The behavior of both officers and men under fire was excellent and they are a brave lot; but they lack experience. They will do better next time, and I have no fear but what they will make a fine fighting division.⁷

* After the war Dr Cushing became famous as a pioneer of modern neurosurgery.

† The War Department estimated that as many as 100,000 soldiers were stragglers, lurking behind the lines and not participating in combat. In an October 21 memorandum it recommended that repeat offenders be tried by court martial and sentenced to death. It is highly likely, however, that many of those presumed skulkers and cowards were in fact flu victims prostrated by the onset of their illness. (Byerly, Fever of War, p. 171.)

On October 14 he could write, “Feeling much better and occupied my real office for the first time, but doctor still forbids my going out. Am eating with a good appetite which is a good sign.”⁸ By the next day he was running the division again.*

* Although statistics for the 79th are not readily available, the division does not appear to have suffered greatly from influenza once they left their training areas at Prouthoy and Champlitte. The divisional historian attributes this to headquarters’ orders to company commanders to inspect their men daily, to make sure living quarters, food, and clothing were kept clean and sanitary, and to report the onset of colds immediately to a medical officer. (J. Frank Barber, History of the Seventy-Ninth Division A.E.F. During the World War: 1917–1919 (Lancaster, PA: Steinman & Steinman, n.d.), p. 196.) But as the flu infection was airborne, that seems unlikely. Possibly it was because the 79th had been exposed to the weaker outbreak of July and August, which is believed to have conferred partial immunity to the much more virulent wave of September through December. (“Summer Flu Outbreak of 1918 May Have Provided Partial Protection against Lethal Fall Pandemic,” National Institutes of Health, Fogarty International Center, http://www.fic.nih.gov/News/GlobalHealthMatters/Pages/Flu-1918.aspx, accessed January 14, 2015.)

The sector to be occupied by the 79th was named Troyon, after a nearby nineteeth-century fortress that had withstood the German advance in 1914. In the words of the division’s historian, the sector was “of a peculiar nature.” The Main Line of Resistance ran along the eastern edge of the Heights of the Meuse, looking northeast over the Woëvre plain 300 feet below. Because the Heights were heavily cut with gullies, the line followed a wavy course along the cliffs. It was rare in this war for the Americans to occupy a commanding height so to avoid being overlooked, the Germans had retreated a further four miles from the base of the cliffs. The 26th had followed them, establishing a line consisting of lightly held outposts on the plain. This region below the cliffs was termed the “zone of observation.” The historian of the 315th Infantry described the view:

By day, the low-lying expanse of the Woëvre lay in solemn stillness, no life or movement visible on its broad surface, but at night came a miraculous change. The hills to the east became lit with the flash of Austrian guns, star shells rose and threw their weird light over the plain below, while overhead the German planes droned ceaselessly throughout the night.⁹

Although the division was assigned once again to the front line, two provisions of Field Order No. 12 were a pleasant surprise. The 157th Brigade, which was to hold the main line of resistance on the Heights, would have in front of it two French battalions that would occupy the zone of observation. The 158th Brigade would stay in a rear area to train, re-equip, and compile its reports. In the dark of October 6, the French battalions entered the observation zone. The following night, in a cold rain, the two regiments of the 157th Brigade relieved the 26th Division, the 316th taking the right-hand subsector, called “Massachusetts,” with the 313th on their left, occupying “Connecticut” (the 26th was the Yankee Division, after all).

Exploring their new home, the men of the 157th Brigade found huge piles of equipment, weapons, and supplies left by the Germans. They also found very comfortable quarters, especially for the officers: “Elaborately furnished officers’ clubrooms, billiard rooms, dance halls, recreation huts, baths and vegetable gardens had been left behind.” Even in the rear areas of the sector, which the German offensive had never reached, the dugouts formerly occupied by the French sported electric lights, showers, and comfortable beds.¹⁰ But investigating old battlefields had its risks. Looking for a place to put their first aid station, a medical officer and a dental officer entered a mine gallery abandoned by the Germans. The enemy had not taken all of their explosives with them. The medical officer accidentally dropped a match; both men were fatally burned.¹¹

As they recuperated from their ordeal at Montfaucon the men had a chance to write letters home and the officers, acting as military censors, to read them. Lieutenant Joel of the 316th described what he read:

One cook apparently spent about all his spare time writing to “Dear, sweet wonderful little honey bunch” – ten sheet editions delivered about every other day. Another fellow simply couldn’t stay with one idea, writing about as follows: “And we had nothin’ to eet for five days and its raining hard all day today and meals is better now and if you send that swetter put some plugg and tobacco in. I hope this war stops soon and I got cooties now so good bye and rite when you get this.” The common topics of discussion were the “grub”, rumors, cooties, and reports of the end of the war or the capture of the Kaiser.¹²

Troyon was a “quiet” sector, meaning that there was no current or anticipated offensive activity by either side. But it was quiet only in the formal sense; the Germans kept up a steady bombardment of high explosive and gas all the time the 79th was there. A continual stream of casualties resulted, although not nearly as many as in the Meuse–Argonne operation. The German artillery paid particular attention to the points at which the roads from the Heights crested the ridge on their way down to the Woëvre plain. By zeroing in their guns on those locations during the day, they could keep up an effective bombardment even at night. Supply trucks could not reach the troops in the observation zone; they had to be unloaded at the top and their cargoes carried by hand down the footpaths that led to the bottom of the cliffs.

The division spent the next few days reorganizing and consolidating its position. On the night of October 8–9, the 313th Infantry went forward and took over the left half of the observation zone from the French battalions. The next night the 316th did the same on the right. The artillery brigade of the 26th, which had stayed behind to support the 79th, rejoined its division; it was replaced by the 55th Artillery Brigade, borrowed from the 30th Division. On October 10 the 304th Engineers arrived, so by now the 79th had regained all of its original units except for the artillery. Also on the 10th, Kuhn reorganized his infantry brigades and by the 26th he had replaced most of his commanders. The new 157th, under Nicholson, had the 313th Regiment in line and the 314th in reserve. Colonel Sweezey had fallen ill and had been evacuated, so command of the 313th would devolve for the rest of the war on Colonel William C. Rogers, formerly commander of the Division Trains. Colonel Oury resumed leadership of the 314th while command of the 158th Brigade was given to Colonel George Williams, a newly arrived former cavalryman, who had previously replaced Meador at the 316th. The re-formed 158th Brigade had the 316th (also commanded by Williams) in front and the 315th (Knowles) behind. The regiments were thus restored to the organizations to which they had belonged before the Montfaucon attack. But now the brigades were side by side, avoiding the column-of-brigades formation that had given so much trouble on September 26. On October 12 the 79th Division became part of the French II Colonial Army Corps; this in turn was assigned to the newly created American Second Army, led by General Robert L. Bullard, promoted from command of III Corps. Second Army occupied the American sector from Fresnes-en-Woëvre (south of Verdun) to its southern extremity east of the Moselle. The 79th thus held the northernmost sector of Second Army.

But before the men could get properly situated, the Germans dealt them a surprise. In the Meuse–Argonne, the 79th had benefited from the infrequent use of gas by the German artillery. The penalty was a lack of experience with gas attacks, and now they would pay the price. The German line opposite Second Army was held by German Army Detachment C. All of its good units had been transferred to the Meuse–Argonne front. Those that were left were depleted and worn out. Expecting an American attack eastward on the Longwy–Briey industrial region, their only effective means of defense, they believed, was to saturate the Allied sectors with gas to break up assault formations and prevent an offensive from getting organized. The principal weapon was mustard gas, known as yellow cross, a highly persistent blistering agent. The Germans immediately across from Kuhn’s division also had a more personal reason for using gas. Unknown to the men of the 79th, a few days before they took over the sector the 75mm guns of the 26th Division had fired a thousand gas shells into the German lines opposite them.¹³

On the night of October 9–10 the artillery of the 26th was still in place and the Germans took their revenge. As the 157th Brigade was replacing the French battalions in the zone of observation, the German guns opened up with a massive bombardment of yellow cross. At 11:30 p.m. on the 9th the villages of Hannonville and Saulx came under heavy fire from a new kind of shell that combined yellow cross with high explosive. Because it burst like an HE shell (that is, with a blast, not a dull “thump”), the gas could not be detected except by odor, by which time it was often too late. The gas officer of the 79th, Captain A.B. Clark, estimated that 9,500 shells of mustard gas, diphosgene, and blue cross (diphenlychloroarsene, a non-persistent respiratory irritant) were fired. The 316th, occupying the ground around Hannonville, was worst hit, taking almost 1,000 shells. Three platoons in particular were caught in the open while going to relieve the French troops in the observation zone. Although they donned their masks and took shelter in the town, they removed the masks too soon on the advice of an NCO who had not had gas training. Over a period of two days all became casualties; the town had to be evacuated entirely. The battalion headquarters of the 316th and 313th Regiments were gassed and had to be abandoned. The gas officer of the 26th Artillery estimated that 7,500 shells, mostly yellow cross, fell on his batteries. The gunners, having faced heretofore only minor attacks with few casualties, were overconfident; they wore only parts of their masks and took them off too soon. More than 25 percent of the gunners became casualties (by Captain Clark’s estimate, more than half). In the rest of the 79th, 750 men were exposed to gas and 192 became casualties. (The HE component of the shells caused little damage.) Ninety percent of the affected troops developed eye and skin burns; 40 percent developed lung complications.* For several days after the bombardment, gas victims continued to stumble into the treatment stations—men blinded and gasping, not yet suffering from the inflamed skin that would develop days later. Some casualties were due to the continuing, low-level shelling carried out by the Germans, but many occurred because men were passing through areas previously saturated with mustard gas without wearing their masks.†¹⁴

* One such casualty was Colonel Ross, Kuhn’s chief of staff. At some point he had to remove his mask to issue orders over the phone. He coughed heavily for the rest of his life. (Betsy Ross, I Fly the Flag (Champaign, IL: Graphix Group, Inc., 1984), p. 40.)

† Oddly, the divisional historian does not record this gas attack, which is well attested in the unit’s archives. Instead, he writes about a gas bombardment on October 14 that concentrated on the dressing station and quarters of the 315th Ambulance Company. (Barber, 79th Division, pp. 189–90.) The history of the 316th Infantry mentions no gas attacks at all. (Carl E. Glock, History of the 316th Regiment of Infantry in the World War, 1918 (Philadelphia, PA: Biddle-Deemer Printing Co., 1930, second printing).)

Captain Clark, the gas officer, attributed the division’s casualties to the troops’ inexperience compounded by a shortage of trained gas specialists, both commissioned and non-commissioned.¹⁵ Training had largely neglected gas operations, either offensive or defensive. The weapon was too new and officers begrudged the time taken away from traditional subjects such as drill and marksmanship. The situation was aggravated by the utter lack of an Army doctrine regarding use of and defense against gas. Clark was eventually able to persuade the divisional staff to take some correctional measures, such as placing fewer troops in the zone of observation and tightening gas discipline. Gas officers were relieved of all other duties, and rules requiring the carrying of gas masks were strictly enforced. These measures had limited effect at first because the men’s morale still had not recovered from the trauma of the Montfaucon fight and the onset of flu and diarrhea. (The division surgeon put the physical efficiency of the men at a maximum of 40 percent.) Clark found that most men carried their masks improperly, and many had no masks at all. Officers showed little interest and continued to assign gas specialists to other duties. Although the division staff had apparently awakened to the problem, the morale of the men was still too low for them to respond energetically.¹⁶

Within a few weeks both morale and attention to gas defense had improved. On the night of October 21–22 the Germans sent yellow cross shells into woods occupied by two companies. The men evacuated the woods promptly and only one casualty resulted. Two days later the area in front of the trenches around Fresnes was heavily shelled with blue cross; there were no immediate casualties, although three men were sent to the treatment station a day later. By the time the division left the Troyon sector Captain Clark was able to report, “[C]ooperation with Staff Departments is very good, indeed. An active interest is manifested in gas work, necessary orders are published, and support is given in every way ... to assist the Division Gas Officer in maintaining gas discipline and protective measures.”¹⁷

In this “quiet” sector the 79th sent out nightly patrols to reconnoiter enemy positions and take prisoners; the Germans raided the American lines for the same purposes. But the men of the division had learned the virtues of stealth and patience. No longer did they give away their positions by firing at noises and shadows. On one occasion a German patrol tried to get through the line of Company K, 313th Infantry, to see whether Fresnes-en-Woëvre was occupied. It was detected by a private who waited until it had passed and then opened up on it from behind with his automatic rifle. This attracted fire from the rest of the company. The patrol leader was killed, the rest scattered, one man surrendered.¹⁸ Excitement picked up on the night of October 20 when a heavy bombardment hit the 313th’s positions on the left of the sector. The next morning a German deserter told of at least one reserve division being brought into the line, and observation balloons appeared over the enemy’s front. Kuhn rushed his reserve battalions forward to help resist an attack, but it was a false alarm. Apparently, this kind of activity simply meant that one German division was relieving another. The reserves were ordered back to the rear.¹⁹

The men kept improving their combat technique. Before dawn on October 23 a platoon of the 316th Infantry, stationed at Doncourt in the zone of observation, reported that the wire in front of its position had been cut. Suspecting an impending raid, the lieutenant in charge of the platoon sent a patrol forward to set up an ambush and withdrew the rest of the unit behind the town. The German attack fell upon vacant trenches. The ambush patrol then hit the raiders in the flank with automatic rifle fire killing four, wounding more, and sending the enemy back in disarray. A simultaneous raid against the division’s line at Wadonville, to the south, surprised the defenders, who nevertheless repelled the Germans after a sharp fight. After that, enemy raids and patrols ceased for as long as the 79th held the sector.²⁰

That would not be long. The same morning, the 79th received orders saying that the 33rd Division would relieve it that night. Sure enough, the first units of the 33rd started arriving in the zone of the 79th in the evening. For the next two nights the components of the 79th marched rearward to the Dieue zone, on the Meuse River, for reorganization. At this time 2,200 replacements arrived, bringing the division close to full strength. They would have arrived sooner but they had been quarantined for flu and spinal meningitis. They were replacements in numbers, but not in quality. Hailing mostly from the American west and south, they were almost entirely untrained; many had never fired their rifles.²¹

By October 27 all the troops of the 79th had left the Troyon sector and headed north. They had lost 42 dead in the 19 days they had been there, almost all in the infantry regiments and almost all from shell fire. The next day all of the division’s elements were at their destinations in or around Verdun: the 314th six miles to the southeast, the 315th three miles to the west, the two regiments of the 157th Brigade and the two machine guns battalions in the city itself. The adjutant of the 316th described the march of his regiment through the ruined streets:

Hushed—save for the clattering of hobnails on ringing cobbles, the boom of a vagrant cannon, the crash of an occasional shell, and the solemn striking of the hour in the battered cathedral, invisible in the dark. Slowly the column wound its way between gaping houses, and all the usual grimness of a ruined city, past the still upright Hotel de Ville, and on into the massive citadel whose sheltered galleries and sturdy walls gave an unaccustomed sense of security to men inured to shell-holes and deceptive dugouts.²²

William Schellberg of the 313th—who had been promoted to corporal—reacted less lyrically to Verdun and its citadel:

Well we had to leave our cozy little dugouts which I referred to in my last letter, and are now billeting in a French jail, “thats going some aint it.” I had to come all the way to France to have this experience; well when I get back I can say I was in jail anyway. We have had some good times since being here in this place it seems funny to see one another in a cell, and we are having a good time the reason for this is they have not got us locked up if they would have us locked up I don’t think we would be having such a pleasant time.²³

In its bivouacs around Verdun, the 79th received orders to rejoin First Army as part of the French XVII Corps commanded by General Henri Claudel. The left-most division of XVII Corps was the American 29th Division. The 79th would relieve the 29th in the Grande Montagne sector, an extension of the Meuse–Argonne battlefield to the east of the river. The relief would take place on the nights of October 28 and 29; shortly thereafter, the division would take over part of the line held by the 26th Division as well. No “quiet” sector now; this meant combat.

By the time Pershing’s offensive stalled on September 30, the French command had concluded from its observations of First Army that there was a serious risk that the Germans would mount a strong counterattack. This would force the Americans into a fighting retreat. They also believed that, although the US divisions were formidable combat organizations when well led, their staffs did not yet know their jobs; the solution would be for the experienced French to take over the coordination of American movements. Third, they found that things could not be left as they were. Pétain proposed that the American Army go on the defensive, while its divisions were to be rotated into French corps where they would get offensive experience. Once the US divisions and their staffs were properly seasoned, the AEF could resume the offensive.²⁴ And indeed, the American situation was ripe for disaster, presenting to the Germans the best circumstance an attacker can face: an immobile and disorganized enemy backed by inadequate roads—the same state of affairs that had allowed the British and French to crush Ludendorff’s stalled offensives in July and August. Fortunately, the Germans did not realize the American predicament, and were unable at any rate to mount more than local counterattacks.

The French perception of First Army’s failure was magnified by the success of the British Fourth Army in the north—especially its spectacular breakthrough on September 29 across the St Quentin Canal—and of the French themselves in the center. The British feat occurred even before any German reserves could be moved south to meet the Americans. Foch sent a message to Pershing on September 30 suggesting that Liggett’s I Corps be placed under the command of the French Fourth Army to its west, so that the Fourth would then completely surround the Argonne Forest.²⁵ The next day General Maxime Weygand, Foch’s chief of staff and a close confidante of Clemenceau, met with Pershing to announce Foch’s plan to divide First Army. Pershing agreed with many of Foch’s points, but rejected completely the idea of splitting up the American forces. Foch was forced to accede to Pershing’s terms, but with a stipulation:

Amending what I wrote you September 30, I agree to maintaining the present organization of command, as you propose, under the condition that your attacks start without delay and that, once begun, they be continued without any interruptions such as those which have just arisen.²⁶

Pershing had halted his army to replace depleted divisions and repair the roads; now he was under pressure to resume the offensive.* He had swapped four badly mauled, novice divisions for three veteran ones, but in other ways his situation had deteriorated. The lethal second wave of the flu had ravaged the training camps in the States and forced a curtailment of the draft.† As a result, troop shipments were not sufficient to make up for losses, forcing him to break up two newly arrived divisions for replacements and to reduce the size of an infantry company from 250 to 175 men.²⁷ The Germans, in the meantime, had reinforced their line from four divisions on September 25 to nine on October 2 with more on the way. Pershing determined to renew the attack on October 4. His aim was to eliminate the strong enemy positions facing First Army, especially the artillery concentrations. III Corps under Bullard would capture the heights northeast of Cunel; V Corps under Cameron would take the Romagne Heights; and I Corps under Liggett would take the hills north of Exermont and clear out the eastern edge of the Argonne Forest at Châtel-Chéhéry and Cornay. Corps were now to advance independently regardless of progress on their flanks. There would be no advance artillery preparation that might alert the Germans to the impending attack. The Germans, however, had figured out what was coming and had stiffened their defense. By October 7 Pershing’s three corps had regained most of the ground given up on September 28 and 29 and gotten a bit beyond. The 1st Division recaptured the Bois de Montrebeau, which the 35th had abandoned, and got past Exermont. The 32nd Division, replacing the 91st and the 37th, got through the Bois Emont and took Gesnes. The 3rd Division, in the old sector of the 79th, got past Bois 250 and the Bois des Ogons but still could not capture the Madeleine Farm. And the 4th Division took the Bois de Fays.

* One division—the 77th, enmeshed in the Argonne Forest on First Army’s extreme left—apparently did not get the word to stop offensive action on September 30. Sent on October 1 to capture the German position at the Moulin de Charlevaux, the division was to be protected on its left by a regiment of the French Fourth Army. But the “French” regiment was actually the 368th Regiment of the American 92nd Division, a black division that Pershing had lent to Pétain. Poorly led by incompetent and hostile white officers, the 368th failed to advance (see Chapter 8), uncovering the flank of the 77th. When the latter’s attack stalled on October 2, the Germans were able to surround the leading elements of the division, consisting of seven infantry companies from two regiments and parts of one machine gun battalion. Dubbed by the press the “Lost Battalion,” these men endured, isolated and under heavy fire, until rescued on October 7. (Robert H. Ferrell, America’s Deadliest Battle: Meuse–Argonne, 1918, ed. Theodore A. Wilson, Modern War Studies (Lawrence, KS: UP of Kansas, 2007), pp.74–78.)

† The flu was a worldwide epidemic. In Great Britain, about 225,000 civilians died. In the British Expeditionary Force, 313,000 cases were reported, probably a low count. In France, 135,000 civilians and 30,000 soldiers lost their lives. The Germans lost 225,000 civilians; over 700,000 soldiers fell ill, with 80 percent occurrence in some units. In the United States as many as 675,000 died. (Byerly, Fever of War, p. 99.)

But the October 4 attack suffered again from inexperience. American artillery plastered the hilltops and tree lines, where they expected the enemy machine guns to be. But the German reinforcements had dug in on the forward slopes of the hills or in the middle of the woods, which were untouched by the bombardment. Americans continued to charge recklessly into machine gun fire, evoking the admiration and pity of the Germans. The Army’s official statistical summary reported over 6,500 deaths in the first week of October, eclipsing the 1,600 fatalities of the previous week.*²⁸ One event only allowed the AEF to claim a triumph. Hunter Liggett, commanding I Corps, brought a brigade of the 82nd Division up from reserve and put it between the 77th and the 28th Divisions. Then he had it attack westward into the flank of the Argonne Forest, behind the Germans who were holding up the advance of his corps. This forced the Germans to withdraw, relieving the Lost Battalion and clearing the forest by October 10. In this attack Sergeant Alvin York single-handedly killed 28 Germans and captured 132, as well as 35 machine guns. But overall the second phase of the offensive so far was disappointing; Pershing needed to raise his sights.

Giving up half his command was not the only thing Foch had suggested to Pershing in his September 30 memo. Throughout the campaign, the American infantry had been hammered by German heavy guns firing unopposed from east of the Meuse. It was time to end this harassment. Like Falkenhayn in 1916, Pershing would have to extend his offensive across the river to protect his right flank. Foch wrote:

The action to be launched on the right bank of the Meuse should be designed to seize the heights of the Meuse between Damvillers and Dun-sur-Meuse. This result would secure the flank of our general offensive toward the north and afford greater liberty of movement to our armies through the possession of the roads and of the railroad in the valley of the Meuse.²⁹

On October 5 Pétain ordered First Army to attack on the right bank of the Meuse, the attack to be led by the French XVII Corps, reinforced by whatever American divisions were available. The XVII Corps had defended First Army’s line on the right bank of the Meuse ever since Pershing’s nine divisions had attacked northward on September 26. Now it was time for it to join the fray. Pershing ordered it to advance straight north while the 33rd Division pushed eastward from the left bank of the Meuse. On October 8 they attacked, taking Consenvoye in a day but failing to make it to the top of the Heights. Even so, the pressure on the German defenders had the effect of reducing the volume of flanking fire on III and V Corps.³⁰

Meanwhile, the attacks west of the Meuse continued with little better success than before. Pétain continued to press for results; Pershing promised him a major renewal of the offensive on October 14. The general had changed all three of his corps commanders. Major General Joseph T. Dickman replaced the promoted Liggett at I Corps; General Summerall, an aggressive artilleryman, supplanted Cameron at V Corps; and General Hines took over I Corps to replace Bullard, who had been promoted to command the new Second Army. Two first-rate divisions had been added to the lineup, the 42nd and the 5th, both veterans of St Mihiel. But the October 14 attack didn’t go any better than the earlier ones, for much the same reasons. German counterattacks forced the Americans to take and retake positions many times over. The 5th Division put too many troops into the front line while holding none in reserve, causing it to become disorganized. German artillery and gas gave accurate support to the defenders, who fought until completely surrounded. Pershing had no choice but to urge his commanders to keep on pushing; according to historian Allen Millett, to do otherwise would have been to admit that his opposition to amalgamation had been wrongheaded and “that his dream of an independent American army playing a decisive role in the defeat of Germany was nothing more than another delusion of the Great War.”³¹ By the 19th, casualties—almost 18,000 killed since October 1—forced Pershing to give up attacking on a broad front.³² By then the 32nd Division had cracked the Kriemhilde-Stellung at the Côte Dame Marie and the 42nd at the Côte de Châtillon.* Pershing had finally achieved his goal for September 26.

Although firm in his commitment to a unified American army, Pershing must have understood that his forces were exceeding his span of control. After refusing Foch’s September 30 demand that he turn over part of his army to French command, he had consulted Pétain, whom he considered a supporter. Pétain suggested that Pershing create and lead an American army group under the direct command of Foch, on an equal footing with the French and British armies.³³ With Foch’s agreement, on October 10 Pershing activated Second Army to take over the American line from the old St Mihiel sector southward. Two days later he appointed Bullard as its commander, moving himself up to army group commander and thereby removing himself from day-to-day control of operations. To lead First Army he promoted General Hunter Liggett from I Corps.

Liggett, an Academy graduate, had served in the American West and the Philippines and had attended the Army War College, where he preceded Kuhn as president. He was respected throughout the Army as an upright and reliable officer. His only failing was his excessive weight; to his critics he retorted that none of the fat was above the collar.³⁴ In January 1918 Pershing gave him command of I Corps, which he led at Château-Thierry and in the Aisne–Marne and St Mihiel offensives. In the Meuse–Argonne his three divisions, on the western end of the line, came to a halt on September 30 like the rest of them; but as V Corps took most of the blame, Liggett’s reputation was unharmed. Taking command of First Army on October 16, he immediately spent several days visiting his units to build cohesion and morale. This was critical; food and shelter were still lacking, and Liggett estimated that 100,000 men had become stragglers. He also resisted pressure from Pershing to mount an attack before the army was rested, resupplied, and retrained. In particular, they needed instruction in fire-and-maneuver tactics, how to attack fortified positions, and how to use artillery support.

For the two weeks after October 19, First Army made only local attacks to improve the line. One such action, however, would dictate the terms of the 79th Division’s next engagement. The French XVII Corps held First Army’s right flank across the river in the Heights of the Meuse. This range of hills was another of the north-trending ridges, like the Argonne and Barrois plateaus to its west, that in earlier centuries had defended Paris from invasion from the east. Like those plateaus, its north-trending whaleback was cut on both sides by eroded valleys. Unlike those formations, however, the ridges that formed the west-facing valleys terminated in sharp bluffs that overlooked the Meuse River. As we have seen, the contorted, wooded landscape of the Heights offered concealment for the big German guns; the promontories gave their artillery observers a perfect view as far as Montfaucon, 12 miles to the west. It was clear that further success west of the Meuse would depend on silencing the German artillery.

From October 8 through 10, XVII Corps had advanced about three miles northward while the American 33rd Division to its west had crossed the Meuse and gained a further two and a half miles. On October 15 Pershing ordered the XVII Corps to continue its attack. By the 23rd it had taken the strategic position of Molleville Farm and had established positions in the Bois d’Etraye and atop a peak almost level with the highest ridge on that side of the river, the Grand Montagne. The right-hand peak of this massif was at an elevation of 370 meters, 28 meters higher than Montfaucon. Its northwesterly extension, the Borne de Cornouiller (also called Hill 378 by the Americans) reached to the flats along the river and allowed the Germans to survey all of First Army. In English, the name of this ridge would have been the deceptively placid “Dogwood’s End.” Once the 79th joined XVII Corps, the Borne would be its first objective.

As the 79th marched from Troyon to its bivouacs around Verdun, the warring nations moved erratically toward peace. On September 28, the same day as Ludendorff’s collapse, Foreign Minister Paul von Hintze convinced Reichstag leaders that President Wilson’s Fourteen Points represented the best deal for Germany; but that to approach Wilson to negotiate an armistice and peace would first require democratization of the German government. The next day Kaiser Wilhelm, Hintze, Ludendorff, and Chancellor Count Hertling met at Spa. That is when Wilhelm first learned of Ludendorff’s determination to ask for peace terms not, Ludendorff said, because defeat was imminent but to “avoid further loss of life.” The Kaiser made no protest and asked no questions, docilely approving an approach to Wilson that would bypass France and Britain. Separately, he proposed a parliamentary government to Hertling and Hintze but did not inform the High Command. Hertling, who for the past year had consistently failed to impose government control over Ludendorff, resigned. This made way for Prince Maximilian von Baden, a monarchist, a Centrist, and a decent man but otherwise a nonentity, to become Chancellor.³⁵

Hintze had promised to send a peace offer to Wilson by October 1 but Prince Max had not yet formed a government, so there was no chancellor in place to sign it. Ludendorff insisted hysterically that the offer be sent anyway, as his lines were about to crumble. The representative of the Foreign Office at Spa was so shaken that he sent a message to Berlin pressing them to contact Wilson right away because everyone in OHL appeared “to have completely lost their nerve here.” Max delayed, convinced that to ask for armistice terms on such a precipitate basis would be to admit defeat and invite political and social upheaval. He also realized that he had been set up as what later generations would call the fall guy.³⁶ Finally, under increasing pressure from the High Command, the Kaiser, and his own cabinet, he dispatched the note asking for an immediate armistice to be followed by peace negotiations on the basis of the Fourteen Points.

The note reached Wilson on October 6. After requesting clarification as to what Prince Max was offering and receiving a vague response, Wilson responded on October 14 insisting that the Allies, not the Germans, would set terms for evacuation of occupied territories and would accept an armistice only if it precluded further hostilities. He also demanded the dismantling of the German government as an “arbitrary power” and its replacement with one that represented “the action of the German people themselves.”³⁷ Six days later the Chancellor acceded to Wilson’s conditions, agreeing to abandon submarine warfare and outlining a program of voting reform. Wilson replied that he was now in a position to present these developments to his allies and ask them to prepare their terms. But he objected to dealing with the Imperial government, demanding to negotiate with “veritable representatives of the German people who have been assured of a genuine constitutional standing as the real rulers of Germany.”³⁸

If Wilson thought he and the new German government were making progress, he was premature. As the Allied advance bogged down in mid-October and the German line did not collapse, the mercurial Ludendorff recovered some of his nerve. Asked by the Kaiser for advice on how to reply to Wilson, he insisted that the German Army was capable of continued resistance. He discounted the likelihood of an Allied penetration, and maintained that a withdrawal to a position holding Antwerp and the Meuse would shorten and stabilize the line and give the Germans time and resources to plan a spring offensive for 1919. He had lost all credibility with the government, especially after renewed attacks by one French and three British armies on October 17 through 20 crossed the Selle and Sambre Rivers and the Oise Canal, demolishing the last German position before the Antwerp–Meuse line.³⁹ Nevertheless, he and Hindenburg refused to meet Wilson’s demand for their armistice proposals and sent a telegram to all army group commanders ordering them to “fight to the finish.” One commander objected, so the telegram was canceled; but a radio operator who was a member of the Independent Socialist Party sent the text to the party’s Reichstag members. On October 25, Ludendorff’s canceled telegram was published in the newspapers. Prince Max insisted that the Kaiser demand Ludendorff’s resignation or the government would quit. Ludendorff, in turn, went to Berlin to see the Kaiser and to insist that he reject Wilson’s most recent note, blaming the crisis on the lack of support for the Army among the German people. But the Kaiser, himself no rock of stability, had finally had enough of his insubordinate Quartermaster General. Outraged that Ludendorff had sent such a telegram directly to the army commanders, Wilhelm barked, “Excellency, I must remind you that you are in the presence of your Emperor.” Seeing that he had lost Wilhelm’s trust, Ludendorff resigned the next day. General Wilhelm Groener, commander of the German occupation of the Ukraine and a man in touch with reality, took his place. Groener’s job was to buy the government time to negotiate favorable terms from the Allies but not so much time as would lead to internal collapse. The question now was not whether the killing would end but how long it would take.