The respite, punctuated by such occasional tragedy, was pitifully short for Holcomb's men. At 12:40 AM on June 13, the major received and order to move at once to the woods northwest of Lucy as the brigade reserve. Holcomb promptly had his companies on the road and arrived before 4:00 AM.
Just before dawn General Harbord received a false report that a German counterattack had wrested Bouresches from 3/5. He ordered Holcomb to move two companies to the woods southeast of Lucy to be in position to retake the town. As daylight broke across the wheat fields, Holcomb led his 78th and 96th Companies across the two miles of open ground at the double, directly under the watching eyes of three German balloons. Midway through this dash, a runner from regimental headquarters caught up with Holcomb and informed him that the earlier report was false. No doubt frustrated, the major immediately veered for the cover of a small wood to his right.
With their location now compromised, the 78th and 96th Companies prudently began scooping out foxholes under the trees. Holcomb set up his command post at the Montgivrault Farm nearby. After the shocking bombardment of the 80th Company at La Cense Farm on June 2, all hands clearly understood the danger facing the two companies. There was little to do during daylight but dig, prey, and wait for nightfall for an opportunity to evade the watching eyes of enemy spotters. German artillery lobbed shells into the wood intermittently throughout the day, removing any doubt that observers had fixed their location.
Well before dusk, a runner handed Holcomb a 4th Brigade order directing 2/6 to relieve 2/5 in Belleau Wood after midnight. Holcomb ordered his companies to sit tight, draw ammunition, feed the lads on last hot meal, and move out smartly at 1:00 AM. Holcomb no doubt felt guardedly secure after weathering the day without mishap, yet his marines were in greater peril than he realized. German artillery ammunition stockpiles had burgeoned significantly. As the 78th and 96th Companies dozed in their holes, the 237th Division (German) issues ominous instructions that "every concentration of hostile troops will be subjected to a heavy neutralization fire."
Just before midnight, the mess kitchens of the 78th and 96th Companies rolled up, and the aroma of hot slum gullion wafted through the trees. Marines donned their equipment and scrambled out of their holes in the dark. The hungry leathernecks began to shake out their mess kits, anticipating more days of short rations ahead. A shower of high explosive, mustard, and phosgene crashed into the column with the rude abruptness of a tropic downpour. In an instant those men not hit scrambled back to their holes and shimmied into their gas masks. The could not talk through the mouthpieces of these masks and could barely see through the thick lenses.Amid the crashing shells, screaming wounded, and the clouded night, the men could not see, could not hear, and could not communicate.
This was an unprecedented barrage, a "drenching bombardment," in German terminology, of six thousand to seven thousand rounds. Mustard gas had presented little more than a nuisance to the battalion in the past, provided the men could evacuate the contaminated area. This night, the intensity of the high explosives pinned them to their position, and the mustard agent began to seep into their clothing.
Lieutenant Cates fumbled through his tangle of webbing for his mask. Horrified, he could not find it. The smoky darkness disoriented Cates, and he realized that he could not hope to find his hole where he left his mask. Surrounded by the thickening gas, Cates fought back panic. In a flash he recalled that Pvt. Virgil Hall had been showing off a captured German mask. "Hall!" he screamed. Despairing, he screamed louder. "Hall!" Cates barely detected Hall's muffled response. Before the bewildered private knew what the lieutenant wanted, Cates leaped into his hole, found the metal canister dangling from Hall's neck, and ripped out the German mask. It was too small, but it functioned perfectly. Cates had narrowly cheated death again.
Amid the chaos, Cate's platoon sergeant, Gy. Sgt. Fred Stockham, peered through the smoke and gas for his men. He found Pvt. Barrett Mattingly bleeding from shrapnel wounds. As Cates watched in awe, the former firefighter hoisted Mattingly across his shoulders and stepped off towards the aid station. He had marched only a few paces when a deafening crash directly above the pair flung them to the deck. Dazed from the concussion of the airburst, Stockham rose to his feet and fumbled for the wounded marine. He came across Mattingly's mask, rendering it useless.
Without hesitating, Stockham removed his own mask and, ignoring the shouted protests of his platoon, placed it over Mattingly's face. Stockham then once again heaved the wounded man upon his back, sucking mustard and phosgene into his lungs. He staggered to the regimental aid station at Lucy. Incredibly, the sergeant returned to the wood once more to aid additional wounded marines. Searching among the smoky trees, still inhaling the poisoned air, he finally collapsed. Only after four days of agony in a hospital bed wound Fred Stockham mercifully perish.
At some point before dawn, the barrage lifted sufficiently for the survivors to move out. Holcomb collected the two companies and led them past Lucy toward Belleau Wood. High explosives burst around them. Gas shells flashed in a quiet thump, oozing clouds of mustard. Holcomb zigzagged back and forth across the fields, avoiding the heaviest concentrations. He reached the edge of Belleau Wood with a good fraction of the two companies intact.
The 79th and 80th Companies continued with the relief, crawling through the wheat on all fours toward Belleau Wood. The night was extremely dark, and the southern half of the wood was inundated with gas. Unable to see or speak clearly in their masks, the marines formed a long single fire, each man grabbing the pack straps of the one in front. As the 79th Companies snaked through the forest, German artillery fired a mic of high explosive and mustard into the area. Sergeant Benjamin, back the the 2nd Platoon now, recalled the shelling: "Men were struck, but we could not stop. We had to leave them where they fell and trust some kind God to care for them. The order cam down the line, 'To the rear.' Wondering, we turned and retraced our steps for about half a mile. 'All clear.' Off with the masks and to my horror only a platoon and a half was present. Some idiot had misunderstood the order 'All clear' for 'To the rear.'" Lieutenant West quickly became frustrated trying to keep his men together. As Benjamin;s men feel behind him and the line was cut, the head of the column continued on in ignorance. Splintered trees blocked the way. "It was impossible to keep a line with gas masks on. Off came the masks, gas or no gas."
This attack far outclassed any bombardment that had previously hit the 2nd Division, effectively destroying the 78th and 96th Companies. The 78th Company suffered 16 killed and 190 gassed or wounded (My note: Companies consisted of 250 men.) The 96th Company lost 15 dead and 161 gassed or wounded. Of the company commanders, Captain Messersmith was blinded and Lieutenant Robertson was overcome by gas. Of officers and senior NCOs in both companies, only Lieutenants Cates and Shinkle remained on their feet. Those two stalwarts took charge of their survivors and charged on into the woods to help 2/5. Among those sticking it out with Shinkle in the 78th Company was tough little Pvt. Johnnie Kelly. (Pvt. John Kelly was awarded both the Navy and Army Medal of Honor for charging a machine gun nest and capturing 8 prisoners during a later battle.)
Holcomb reached the 2/5 command post around 3:00 AM with the 79th and 80th Companies and the few diehards from the 78th and 96th Companies. Only hours before 2/6 had been the 4th Brigade's most fresh, most fighting-ready unit. When Holcomb counted heads the morning of June 14, he was stunned to discover that his decimated battalion was incapable of relieving the tired marines of 2/5.
From : To the limit of endurance: a battalion of Marines in the Great War, By Peter F. Owen
Just before dawn General Harbord received a false report that a German counterattack had wrested Bouresches from 3/5. He ordered Holcomb to move two companies to the woods southeast of Lucy to be in position to retake the town. As daylight broke across the wheat fields, Holcomb led his 78th and 96th Companies across the two miles of open ground at the double, directly under the watching eyes of three German balloons. Midway through this dash, a runner from regimental headquarters caught up with Holcomb and informed him that the earlier report was false. No doubt frustrated, the major immediately veered for the cover of a small wood to his right.
With their location now compromised, the 78th and 96th Companies prudently began scooping out foxholes under the trees. Holcomb set up his command post at the Montgivrault Farm nearby. After the shocking bombardment of the 80th Company at La Cense Farm on June 2, all hands clearly understood the danger facing the two companies. There was little to do during daylight but dig, prey, and wait for nightfall for an opportunity to evade the watching eyes of enemy spotters. German artillery lobbed shells into the wood intermittently throughout the day, removing any doubt that observers had fixed their location.
Well before dusk, a runner handed Holcomb a 4th Brigade order directing 2/6 to relieve 2/5 in Belleau Wood after midnight. Holcomb ordered his companies to sit tight, draw ammunition, feed the lads on last hot meal, and move out smartly at 1:00 AM. Holcomb no doubt felt guardedly secure after weathering the day without mishap, yet his marines were in greater peril than he realized. German artillery ammunition stockpiles had burgeoned significantly. As the 78th and 96th Companies dozed in their holes, the 237th Division (German) issues ominous instructions that "every concentration of hostile troops will be subjected to a heavy neutralization fire."
Just before midnight, the mess kitchens of the 78th and 96th Companies rolled up, and the aroma of hot slum gullion wafted through the trees. Marines donned their equipment and scrambled out of their holes in the dark. The hungry leathernecks began to shake out their mess kits, anticipating more days of short rations ahead. A shower of high explosive, mustard, and phosgene crashed into the column with the rude abruptness of a tropic downpour. In an instant those men not hit scrambled back to their holes and shimmied into their gas masks. The could not talk through the mouthpieces of these masks and could barely see through the thick lenses.Amid the crashing shells, screaming wounded, and the clouded night, the men could not see, could not hear, and could not communicate.
This was an unprecedented barrage, a "drenching bombardment," in German terminology, of six thousand to seven thousand rounds. Mustard gas had presented little more than a nuisance to the battalion in the past, provided the men could evacuate the contaminated area. This night, the intensity of the high explosives pinned them to their position, and the mustard agent began to seep into their clothing.
Lieutenant Cates fumbled through his tangle of webbing for his mask. Horrified, he could not find it. The smoky darkness disoriented Cates, and he realized that he could not hope to find his hole where he left his mask. Surrounded by the thickening gas, Cates fought back panic. In a flash he recalled that Pvt. Virgil Hall had been showing off a captured German mask. "Hall!" he screamed. Despairing, he screamed louder. "Hall!" Cates barely detected Hall's muffled response. Before the bewildered private knew what the lieutenant wanted, Cates leaped into his hole, found the metal canister dangling from Hall's neck, and ripped out the German mask. It was too small, but it functioned perfectly. Cates had narrowly cheated death again.
Amid the chaos, Cate's platoon sergeant, Gy. Sgt. Fred Stockham, peered through the smoke and gas for his men. He found Pvt. Barrett Mattingly bleeding from shrapnel wounds. As Cates watched in awe, the former firefighter hoisted Mattingly across his shoulders and stepped off towards the aid station. He had marched only a few paces when a deafening crash directly above the pair flung them to the deck. Dazed from the concussion of the airburst, Stockham rose to his feet and fumbled for the wounded marine. He came across Mattingly's mask, rendering it useless.
Without hesitating, Stockham removed his own mask and, ignoring the shouted protests of his platoon, placed it over Mattingly's face. Stockham then once again heaved the wounded man upon his back, sucking mustard and phosgene into his lungs. He staggered to the regimental aid station at Lucy. Incredibly, the sergeant returned to the wood once more to aid additional wounded marines. Searching among the smoky trees, still inhaling the poisoned air, he finally collapsed. Only after four days of agony in a hospital bed wound Fred Stockham mercifully perish.
At some point before dawn, the barrage lifted sufficiently for the survivors to move out. Holcomb collected the two companies and led them past Lucy toward Belleau Wood. High explosives burst around them. Gas shells flashed in a quiet thump, oozing clouds of mustard. Holcomb zigzagged back and forth across the fields, avoiding the heaviest concentrations. He reached the edge of Belleau Wood with a good fraction of the two companies intact.
The 79th and 80th Companies continued with the relief, crawling through the wheat on all fours toward Belleau Wood. The night was extremely dark, and the southern half of the wood was inundated with gas. Unable to see or speak clearly in their masks, the marines formed a long single fire, each man grabbing the pack straps of the one in front. As the 79th Companies snaked through the forest, German artillery fired a mic of high explosive and mustard into the area. Sergeant Benjamin, back the the 2nd Platoon now, recalled the shelling: "Men were struck, but we could not stop. We had to leave them where they fell and trust some kind God to care for them. The order cam down the line, 'To the rear.' Wondering, we turned and retraced our steps for about half a mile. 'All clear.' Off with the masks and to my horror only a platoon and a half was present. Some idiot had misunderstood the order 'All clear' for 'To the rear.'" Lieutenant West quickly became frustrated trying to keep his men together. As Benjamin;s men feel behind him and the line was cut, the head of the column continued on in ignorance. Splintered trees blocked the way. "It was impossible to keep a line with gas masks on. Off came the masks, gas or no gas."
This attack far outclassed any bombardment that had previously hit the 2nd Division, effectively destroying the 78th and 96th Companies. The 78th Company suffered 16 killed and 190 gassed or wounded (My note: Companies consisted of 250 men.) The 96th Company lost 15 dead and 161 gassed or wounded. Of the company commanders, Captain Messersmith was blinded and Lieutenant Robertson was overcome by gas. Of officers and senior NCOs in both companies, only Lieutenants Cates and Shinkle remained on their feet. Those two stalwarts took charge of their survivors and charged on into the woods to help 2/5. Among those sticking it out with Shinkle in the 78th Company was tough little Pvt. Johnnie Kelly. (Pvt. John Kelly was awarded both the Navy and Army Medal of Honor for charging a machine gun nest and capturing 8 prisoners during a later battle.)
Holcomb reached the 2/5 command post around 3:00 AM with the 79th and 80th Companies and the few diehards from the 78th and 96th Companies. Only hours before 2/6 had been the 4th Brigade's most fresh, most fighting-ready unit. When Holcomb counted heads the morning of June 14, he was stunned to discover that his decimated battalion was incapable of relieving the tired marines of 2/5.
From : To the limit of endurance: a battalion of Marines in the Great War, By Peter F. Owen
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