A photograph of American soldiers at Cantigny on May 28, 1918 (from the Wikipedia article on the Battle of Cantigny).
[The "Jim" in the story is James Palache (1896-1918), son of Whitney Palache and Belle White Garber. Whitney Palache was Grandpa Palache's brother, so our great grand-uncle. Cantigny was the site of the first American victory in WWI, fought as a way to ease the fresh Americans into the war, and give them some experience of the fighting in the trenches. James Palache was a member of the 1st Division which was stationed there, and which took Cantigny on May 28-29, during intense fighting lasting until the 31st. As a platoon commander, James Palache would have been a lieutenant, the lowest grade of officer, with 30 to 40 men under him. Cantigny itself was a small village on the Somme, and Villers Tournelle was just to the west of it.]
A photograph of American soldiers at Cantigny on May 28, 1918 (from the Wikipedia article on the Battle of Cantigny).
It was the early afternoon of the 15th or 16th of May, 1918. The company had been relieved from the front line facing Cantigny on the 11th of May and was now occupying the reserve trenches just in front of Villers Tournelle.
The afternoon was sunny and warm and it was a beautiful day. As on all beautiful days something usually happened. I was lying alone on top of the dugout thinking about our relief, which was to come off that night, and also vaguely wondering what the town would be like where we were to be billeted, whether there would be plenty to eat and drink and particularly whether we were going to get out all right. Any relief was bad in itself and this one particularly dangerous. The battalion had contained a German spy who, three or four days before, had succeeded in getting over to the German lines. Furthermore, the spy's company had been in the very same trenches which our company now occupied. Altogether the situation was well worth thinking about.
Jim was asleep in the dugout. He was almost exactly the same age as I. We had been in the same company at the first Plattsburg camp. We were too young and were ordered overseas to the conclusion of the second camp and sailed together in January. In France we attended the same school where we were instructed by French officers, he in the Patrol and I in the Tactical school. In March when we were assigned to the 1st Division, we worked it so that we were in the same company. He commanded the 2nd and I the 4th Platoon. We had been in the same unit for over a year. We were friends.
Jim was about my height and we weighed about the same, I guess about one hundred and thirty pounds at that time. He had black eyes and black hair and I imagine that under ordinary circumstances he had a more nervous temperment. He was a great officer and a very intelligent one. The Colonel used him a great deal for patrol work. He was keen and quick and he realized the relative importance of things that happened. He was fond of his men and they of him. Almost every day in the front line since the 23rd of April, one of us had visited the other and we had planned and compared notes and so far had outguessed the Germans. By that afternoon both of us knew more or less about how to keep alive in the line and keep others alive.
Jim finally came out of the dugout and lay down beside me in the sun. He looked tired. I asked him how he felt and he said "All in." His face was pale and you could see the outline of his teeth through his cheeks. I suggested that we would all feel better tomorrow if we got out all right where we could get something to eat and drink. He had no reply at all and we lay quiet for some time. I watched the side of his face and thought to myself that he had never looked quite so badly off. I started to talk about the relief and got no response so I dropped into silence. After a long while Jim said, "I hope I never go on another patrol." He paused and said, "I feel that I am going to get mine." His eyes looked very sad. "Oh, hell," I said, "don't talk like that. You'll be feeling better tomorrow." He merely shook his head. I looked at his hands but they did not shake. The expression of his eyes alone made me feel that maybe he was down and out. Would he go completely out? I tried to think of something to talk about. I said something about food and wine and how much better off we would soon be after a good sleep. It would have pleased him ordinarily to think of such a thing but he showed no interest. It was hopeless to talk about anything else. The nearest things after twenty-three days in that sector were our stomachs and rest. Anything else seemed too remote and far beyond the barrier of the relief in particular and the war in general.
A rather interesting thing happened and in all ordinary circumstances Jim would have been as interested as anybody in the line. An aeroplane with French insignia came flying fairly low toward the division machine-gun trench which lay about 150 yards in front of us. It was a well-concealed trench from which was fired indirect fire. When the aeroplane reached the eastern end of the trench, its exhaust let out heavy black smoke which continued until the western end of the trench was reached. The aeroplane then flew over to Germany and the German balloons carefully marked down the exact boundaries and found the exact range of the trench on their maps. It was a great trick. I was quite excited and said, "By God look at that German marking out that trench!" Jim looked at him but so far as I can remember, he never even made a remark. Ordinarily he would have speculated on all the possibilities for at least fifteen minutes. The change in him was appalling. I began to believe what he said, but [sic] something might happen.
Jim's trench was west of mine and commenced at an apple tree about ten feet west of a road that led from Villers Tournelle to Cantigny. We could see the trench from where we lay. About 4:30 a high burst exploded exactly over the apple tree. Naturally we both knew what a high burst meant. It always was a favorite and highly accurate German method of finding a range for heavy guns. We watched for the next one and it came along and made a high burst over the western end of his trench. "Jim," I said, "You better bring your men down to my trench about 10 o'clock tonight." He knew as well as I that the range couldn't have been more exact. He said, "Do you think they were finding the range on my trench?"
"You know well they were and did," I replied. He didn't say anything for a while. Then he said, "No, I won't do it." He was all in. I couldn't understand him. I argued with him but he got stubborn and walked off to his men. It was hopeless. About 9 that night, I sent a messenger to him and asked him to please bring the men down to my trench. He sent the messenger back with a message thanking me but declining to come. He said he hoped everything would go all right. There was nothing more that I could do. Both sides commenced a bombardment about 11 o'clock that night. The Germans shelled the back area and the village of Villers Tournelle with 155s and 210s. The violence of the bombardment increased rapidly. At 11:30 about four batteries of 155s put a barrage on the division machine-gun trench.
It was practically destroyed. One could hear the cries of the wounded plainly. The relief was very late for the road from Villers Tournelle to Roquentcourt was being heavily shelled. I began to count the seconds between the explosions of the 210s firing near the pond and crossroads in Villers Tournelle. I thought of sending another message to JIm, but what was the use?
The relief finally commenced. The first relief was for Jim's platoon. I was standing behind my trench and pointing out the apple tree against the sky. The relief filed by. Two of them were sobbing from the effect of the heavy shells. The sergeant told me they had lost six men on the way up. "My God, what a hell of a night!" he said. I watched them against the sky. It seemed to take forever for Jim to get out. There were a lot of people standing just west of the apple tree. A 210 landed at the apple tree and another about thirty feet west. It wasn't necessary to tell me that I had seen Jim for the last time.
I took my men out and went back in the camion with the half-stunned, half-weeping remainder of the 2nd platoon. The two shells had killed and wounded eighteen men.