Part 39

The supply train had already put up the tent for them, and they were ordered to unfold their cots and get to sleep as soon as possible. But instead of obeying orders these indomitable girls set to work making doughnuts and before nine o’clock in the morning they had made and were serving two thousand doughnuts, with the accompanying hot chocolate.

The shells were whistling overhead, and the doughboys dropped into nearby shell holes when they heard them coming, but the lassies paid no heed and made doughnuts all the morning, under constant bombardment.

Bouconville was a little village between Raulecourt and the trenches. In it there was left no civilian nor any whole house. Nothing but shot-down houses, dugouts and camouflages, Y.M.C.A., Salvation Army and enlisted men.

Dead Man’s Curve was between Mandres and Beaumont. The enemy’s eye was always upon it and had its range.

Before the St. Mihiel drive one could go to Bouconville or Raulecourt only at night. As soon as it was dark the supply outfits on the trucks would be lined up awaiting the word from the Military Police to go.

Everyone had to travel a hundred yards apart. Only three men would be allowed to go at once, so dangerous was the trip.

Out of the night would come a voice:

“Halt! Who goes there? Advance and give the countersign.”

Every man was regarded as an enemy and spy until he was proven otherwise. And the countersign had to be given mighty quick, too. So the men were warned when they were sent out to be ready with the countersign and not to hesitate, for some had been slow to respond and had been promptly shot. The ride through the night in the dark without lights, without sound, over rough, shell-plowed roads had plenty of excitement.

Bouconville for seven months could never be entered by day. The dugout wall of the hut was filled with sandbags to keep it up. It was at Bouconville, in the Salvation Army hut, that the raids on the enemy were organized, the men were gathered together and instructed, and trench knives given out; and here was where they weeded out any who were afraid they might sneeze or cough and so give warning to the enemy.

Not until after the St. Mihiel drive when Montsec was behind the line instead of in front did they dare enter Bouconville by day.

Passing through Mandres, it was necessary to go to Beaumont, around Dead Man’s Curve and then to Rambucourt, and proceed to Bouconville. Here the Salvation Army had an outpost in a partially destroyed residence. The hut consisted of the three ground floor rooms, the canteen being placed in the middle. The sleeping quarters were in a dugout just at the rear of these buildings. It was in the building adjoining this hut that three men were killed one day by an exploding shell, and gas alarms were so frequent in the night that it was very difficult for the Salvation Army people to secure sufficient rest as on the sounding of every gas alarm it was necessary to rise and put on the gas mask and keep it on until the “alerte” was removed. This always occurred several times during the night.

Map

It was just outside of Bouconville that the famous doughnut truck experience occurred. The supply truck, driven by two young Salvation Army men, one a mere boy, was making its rounds of the huts with supplies and in order to reach Raulecourt, the boy who was driving decided to take the shortest road, which, by the way, was under complete observation of the Germans located at Montsec. The truck had already been shelled on its way to Bouconville, several shells landing at the edge of the road within a few feet of it. They had not noticed the first shell, for shells were a somewhat common thing, and the old truck made so much noise that they had not heard it coming, but when the second one fell so close one of the boys said: “Say, they must be shooting at us!” as though that were something unexpected.

They stepped on the accelerator and the truck shot forward madly and tore into the town with shells breaking about it. Having escaped thus far they were ready to take another chance on the short cut to Raulecourt.

They proceeded without mishaps for some distance. Just outside of Bouconville was a large shell hole in the road and in trying to avoid this the wheels of the truck slipped into the ditch, and the driver found he was stuck. It was impossible to get out under his own power. While working with the truck, the Germans began to shell him again. At first the two boys paid little heed to it, but when more began to come they knew it was time to leave. They threw themselves into a communicating trench, which was really no more than a ditch, and wiggled their way up the bank until they were able to drop into the main trenches, where they found safety in a dugout.

The Germans meantime were shelling the truck furiously, the shells dropping all around on either side, but not actually hitting it. This was about two o’clock in the afternoon.

At Headquarters they were becoming anxious about the non-appearance of the truck and started out in the touring car to locate it. Commencing at Jouey-les-Côtés they went from there to Boucq and Raulecourt, which were the last places the truck was to visit. Not hearing of it at Raulecourt, the search was continued out to Bouconville, again, by a short road. Montsec was in full view. There were fresh shell holes all along the road since the night before. Things began to look serious.

A short distance ahead was an army truck, and even as they got abreast of it a shell went over it exploding about twenty-five feet away, and one hit the side of the road just behind them. It seemed wise to put on all speed.

But when they reached Bouconville and found that the truck they had passed was the Salvation Army truck, they were unwilling to leave it to the tender mercies of the enemy as everybody advised. That truck cost fifty-five hundred dollars, and they did not want to lose it.

As soon as it was dark a detail of soldiers volunteered to go with the Salvation Army officers to attempt to get it out, but the Germans heard them and started their shelling furiously once more, so that they had to retreat for a time; but later, they returned and worked all night trying to jack it up and get a foundation that would permit of hauling it out. Every little while all night the Germans shelled them. About half-past four in the morning it grew light enough for the enemy to see, and the top was taken off the truck so that it would not be so good a mark.

That day they went back to Headquarters and secured permission for an ammunition truck to come down and give them a tow, as no driver was permitted out on that road without a special permit from Headquarters. The journey back was filled with perils from gas shells, especially around Dead Man’s Curve, but they escaped unhurt. That night they attached a tow line to the front of the truck, started the engine quietly, and waited until the assisting truck came along out of the darkness. They then attached their line without stopping the other truck and with the aid of its own power the old doughnut truck was jerked out of the ditch at last and sent on its way. In spite of the many shells for which it had been a target it was uninjured save that it needed a new top. The knowledge that the truck was stuck in the ditch and was being shelled aroused great excitement among all the troops in the Toul Sector and it was thereafter an object of considerable interest. Newspaper correspondents telegraphed reports of it around the world.

In most of the huts and dugouts Salvation Army workers subsist entirely upon Army chow. At Bouconville the chow was frequently supplemented by fresh fish. The dugout here was very close to the trenches, less than five minutes’ walk. Just behind the trenches to the left was a small lake. When there was sufficient artillery fire to mask their attack, soldiers would toss a hand grenade into this lake, thus stunning hundreds of fish which would float to the surface, where they were gathered in by the sackful. The Salvation Army dugout was never without its share of the spoils.

Before the soldiers began to think, as they do now, that being detailed to the Salvation Army hut was a privilege, an Army officer sent one of his soldiers, who seemed to be in danger of developing a yellow streak, to sweep the hut and light the fires for the lassies. “You are only fit to wash dishes, and hang on to a woman’s skirts,” he told the soldier in informing him that he was detailed. That night the village was bombed. The boy, who was really frightened, watched the two girls, being too proud to run for shelter while they were so calm. He trembled and shook while they sat quietly listening to the swish of falling bombs and the crash of anti-aircraft guns. In spite of his fright, he was so ashamed of his fears that he forced himself to stand in the street and watch the progress of the raid. The next day he reported to his Captain that he had vanquished his yellow streak and wanted a chance to demonstrate what he said. The demonstration was ample. The example of these brave lassies had somehow strengthened his spirit.

Back of Raulecourt the woods were full of heavy artillery. Raulecourt was the first town back of the front lines. The men were relieved every eight days and passed through here to other places to rest.

The military authorities sent word to the Salvation Army hut one day that fifty Frenchmen would be going through from the trenches at five o’clock in the morning who would have had no opportunity to get anything to eat.

The Salvation Army people went to work and baked up a lot of biscuits and doughnuts and cakes, and got hot coffee ready. The Red Cross canteen was better situated to serve the men and had more conveniences, so they took the things over there, and the Red Cross supplied hot chocolate, and when the men came they were well served. This is a sample of the spirit of cooperation which prevailed. One Sunday night they were just starting the evening service when word came from the military authorities that there were a hundred men coming through the town who were hungry and ought to be fed. They must be out of the town by nine-thirty as they were going over the top that night. Could the Salvation Army do anything?

The woman officer who was in charge was perplexed. She had nothing cooked ready to eat, the fire was out, her detailed helpers all gone, and she was just beginning a meeting and hated to disappoint the men already gathered, but she told the messenger that if she might have a couple of soldiers to help her she would do what she could. The soldiers were supplied and the fire was started. At ten minutes to nine the meeting was closed and the earnest young preacher went to work making biscuits and chocolate with the help of her two soldier boys. By ten o’clock all the men were fed and gone. That is the way the Salvation Army does things. They never say “I can’t.” They always can.