For Veteran's Day I'd like to honor my
grandfather, Mark Attridge Miller. He was married to Margaret Mary Daly.
Both their families came from New York. This is a letter he wrote to his
dad at the end of World War I.
In a dugout "over there"
November 16, 1918
My dear Gov.:
The war has run its race. It ran a good one, but like everything else it
had to end. Although we had been expecting the end to come almost any
hour,
yet in reality the end came suddenly for us.
Up until the very last minute when the order came to cease firing on all
fronts we were sending shell after shell, ringing their song of death over
the boche lines. We reached the firing line the first of November but did
not go into action immediately because we had to put in our guns and
camouflage them, also the shell and powder depots. But when we did start
firing - hell sure did bust loose. We received word from the commanding
general thanking us for our good work. Our shots had gone "home." We had
put out of action batteries that had never been silenced since the
beginning
of the war. In the early morning we opened up a fierce barrage fire for
the
boys who wear the hat cord of blue were going over the top. They gained a
number of kilometers.
Compared to the roar of that barrage fire, a boiler factory would sound
like
a cemetery. I never knew that there was so many guns in the world as
belched forth fire, smoke and shells that memorable morning. I knew that
there were batteries on all four sides of us, but I did not imagine that
they were practically hub to hub for miles. When they all, from the famous
French "Une Josephine" or 75 millimeter gun, to the powerful naval gun in
the rear, opened up the roar was tremendous. You will ask, "What were the
boche doing from the time you reached the firing line until the end?" I
will begin that part of the story by telling you that the weather favored
us, for it was either raining or cloudy from the time we reached the line
until the game was called. War is one game that wet grounds won't stop.
The cloudy weather prevented the boche planes from getting accurate
observations on our positions and also, to begin with, enabled us to put
up
camouflage screens without being detected; also to bring up our guns and
put
them in place, which was a most difficult task.
That work was done almost entirely at night, the only work done in the day
time was done under the protection of the camouflage. When not under this
protection you had to be constantly on the alert ready to take cover, for
boche planes were continually passing over head. Battles between
aeroplanes
and between boche planes and our anti-aircraft guns were so frequent that
after the first day or two they no longer interested us sufficiently to
distract us from our work. Night and day the boches sent shells whirling
across our lines, hoping to find a living target or to put out of
action guns that had caused their death toll to mount heavenward. Some,
I'm
sorry to say, did go "home", but the majority found only old mother earth
upon which to rip and tare. We could hear the German guns fire, we could
hear the shells as they whistled over head and then the explosion as they
burst somewhere behind us.
Others fell short and reaked their vengenance upon dugouts and trenches.
When one would stop off on its journey and visit us we did not know, nor
apparently care. Our battery and all its members were certainly
fortunate. Although the gas alarm rang out frequently and we were forced
to
work with our masks on, again we were fortunate for no one was gassed.
When we will return to the states we do not know, but we do know that like
Barnum we now have a show. We are living in dugouts about fifteen feet
below terra firma. Taking everything into consideration we are living a
comparatively comfortable life. Since hostilities ceased the weather has
cleared up and become cold, consequently I'm writing this letter while
sitting before a wood stove which makes the room quite comfortable. I
received your seventh letter yesterday, also one from mother dated October
21st, was of course mighty glad to learn that you all have managed to
escape
the "Flu." I received a most delightful letter from Gladys Martin and also
one from Father Creedon. Give my love to all at home, also any of my
friends whom you might meet.>
Lots of love
(signed) Mark.
Prt. Mark A. Miller
Bat. E, 58 Art. (C.A.C.)
American Expeditionary Force. |
