First Day, October 4
The attack of the 1st Division jumped off on schedule, at 5:25 a.m. The tanks, which had been held back to prevent signaling the imminence of the attack, immediately joined the lead ranks. The 1st Brigade, following their rolling artillery barrage and utilizing what swales they could to protect them from fire from the Argonne, attacked over the ground that had once been occupied temporarily by the 35th Division. The sight of American corpses, wounds bandaged, left out to die by the Germans, enraged the Americans, inspiring them to take additional revenge. There was also evidence of the carnage that had befallen the various patrols sent out two nights earlier. Despite heavy fire from all directions, the 1st Brigade took its first objective, the northern edge of the Montrebeau, by 7:00 a.m. A half hour later the 2d Brigade was on its first objective also, despite heavy resistance.
After a half hour to pause and regroup, the 1st Brigade continued its attack across the Exermont Ravine, headed for the heights beyond. Elements of the 16th Infantry, along the main road, entered the town of Fléville. The cost was high. The 3d Battalion, 16th Infantry, had crossed the line of departure that morning with twenty officers and eight hundred men. By the time it had secured its second objective it was down to two officers and 240 men. And fire continued from the west. The nearest friendly troops on the left were two kilometers to the rear.
To the right of the 16th Infantry, other regiments had made less progress. But orders were for each infantry unit to push forward on its own, and artillery support had decentralized to create four independent regimental combat teams of infantry and artillery. Despite the fact that the 18th was halted at Beauregard Farm just across the Exermont Ravine, and the 28th at La Neuville-le-Compte Farm to its right, the front remained continuous.
The tanks proved to be a great help in reducing German machine gun nests. Forty-seven of them had started the day with the division, one company with the 1st Brigade, two companies with the 2d Brigade, and one company in reserve. Yet so fierce was hostile fire that only three tanks remained at the end of the day; 84 percent of the tankers were casualties.
The soldiers on the ground saw the operation from a different perspective. Lieutenant Maury Maverick, of the 28th Infantry, for one, has left a vivid account of the Exermont attack.
After his easy capture of twenty-six frightened Germans at St. Mihiel, Maverick had undergone a sobering baptism of fire as his regiment, part of the 2d Brigade, had pulled into line at Exermont four days earlier. While Maverick was conferring with his company commander, Captain Frank Felbel, they heard a shrieking noise, then a dull explosion. Suspecting gas, they quickly donned their masks. Groping in the dark, Maverick stumbled over the body of a dead American. When he removed his mask, Maverick winced; the man stank. He was probably one of those men of the 35th Division who had been killed three days earlier. The next morning, in position, Maverick was jarred by the burst of a shell close by. One man was dead; another lost a leg and both arms. Maverick was buried in dirt. He was afraid to move for fear that he would “fall to pieces.” But he was unhurt.
As Maverick’s company was preparing to jump off at 5:30 a.m. four days later, on October 4, he could hear the various lieutenants shouting at their men, “God damn it, don’t you know we’re going over the top at five thirty-five?” On the German side there was only silence, a vacuum. Maverick began to hope that the enemy had retreated. When they jumped off on schedule, however, they discovered that the Germans, at least a rear guard of machine gunners, were still there. Forewarned by the American shouting, they could not have been surprised at the timing of the attack.
The Germans were veterans; most of the Americans were not. But the Yanks advanced bravely into the barrage of steel and fire, and their ranks dwindled fast. Of a company of two hundred, half were dead or wounded within a few minutes. Captain Felbel was one of the dead.
Maverick took command. When he counted the survivors, he found that the company had not a single sergeant left. Three of the four platoons were commanded by corporals; the fourth was commanded by Private Quinn, recently reduced for being absent without leave, but a veteran soldier. Maverick recorded his confusion:
On they went. Then a shell burst over Maverick’s head, and a piece of it tore out part of his shoulder blade and collarbone. On the ground but still conscious, Maverick was amazed that it seemed less than five seconds before a Medical Corps man was dressing his wound. He looked for the runners who had been with him a minute before. “The two in the middle had been cut down to a pile of horrible red guts and blood and meat, while the two men on the outside had been cut up somewhat less badly but no less fatally.”
Still Maury Maverick stayed with his company, for the simple reason that there was nobody else to take over. He found four more runners and kept going. After an hour, however, he had lost so much blood that he was getting weak. He could carry on no longer—though he could still walk. He turned the company over to Private Quinn and headed for the rear.
John S. D. Eisenhower, The Greatest U.S. Army Stories Ever Told: Unforgettable Stories of Courage, Honor, and Sacrifice, Iain C. Martin, Ed.
After a half hour to pause and regroup, the 1st Brigade continued its attack across the Exermont Ravine, headed for the heights beyond. Elements of the 16th Infantry, along the main road, entered the town of Fléville. The cost was high. The 3d Battalion, 16th Infantry, had crossed the line of departure that morning with twenty officers and eight hundred men. By the time it had secured its second objective it was down to two officers and 240 men. And fire continued from the west. The nearest friendly troops on the left were two kilometers to the rear.
To the right of the 16th Infantry, other regiments had made less progress. But orders were for each infantry unit to push forward on its own, and artillery support had decentralized to create four independent regimental combat teams of infantry and artillery. Despite the fact that the 18th was halted at Beauregard Farm just across the Exermont Ravine, and the 28th at La Neuville-le-Compte Farm to its right, the front remained continuous.
The tanks proved to be a great help in reducing German machine gun nests. Forty-seven of them had started the day with the division, one company with the 1st Brigade, two companies with the 2d Brigade, and one company in reserve. Yet so fierce was hostile fire that only three tanks remained at the end of the day; 84 percent of the tankers were casualties.
The soldiers on the ground saw the operation from a different perspective. Lieutenant Maury Maverick, of the 28th Infantry, for one, has left a vivid account of the Exermont attack.
After his easy capture of twenty-six frightened Germans at St. Mihiel, Maverick had undergone a sobering baptism of fire as his regiment, part of the 2d Brigade, had pulled into line at Exermont four days earlier. While Maverick was conferring with his company commander, Captain Frank Felbel, they heard a shrieking noise, then a dull explosion. Suspecting gas, they quickly donned their masks. Groping in the dark, Maverick stumbled over the body of a dead American. When he removed his mask, Maverick winced; the man stank. He was probably one of those men of the 35th Division who had been killed three days earlier. The next morning, in position, Maverick was jarred by the burst of a shell close by. One man was dead; another lost a leg and both arms. Maverick was buried in dirt. He was afraid to move for fear that he would “fall to pieces.” But he was unhurt.
As Maverick’s company was preparing to jump off at 5:30 a.m. four days later, on October 4, he could hear the various lieutenants shouting at their men, “God damn it, don’t you know we’re going over the top at five thirty-five?” On the German side there was only silence, a vacuum. Maverick began to hope that the enemy had retreated. When they jumped off on schedule, however, they discovered that the Germans, at least a rear guard of machine gunners, were still there. Forewarned by the American shouting, they could not have been surprised at the timing of the attack.
The Germans were veterans; most of the Americans were not. But the Yanks advanced bravely into the barrage of steel and fire, and their ranks dwindled fast. Of a company of two hundred, half were dead or wounded within a few minutes. Captain Felbel was one of the dead.
Maverick took command. When he counted the survivors, he found that the company had not a single sergeant left. Three of the four platoons were commanded by corporals; the fourth was commanded by Private Quinn, recently reduced for being absent without leave, but a veteran soldier. Maverick recorded his confusion:
At this moment of five-thirty-five, everything happened that never happens in the story books of war. We literally lost each other. There were no bugles, no flags, no drums, and as far as we knew, no heroes. The great noise was like a great stillness, everything seemed blotted out. We hardly knew where the Germans were. We were simply in a big black spot with streaks of screaming red and yellow, with roaring giants in the sky tearing and whirling and roaring.Still Maverick and his men—what was left of them—pushed ahead. His walking stick did him no good; when he came to a ditch, he fell in it. Still there was nothing to do but keep going. Maverick later recalled holding his head down so that any shell fragments would hit his steel helmet, only to discover that he was not wearing a helmet at all. He borrowed one from “a poor fellow who had no further use for it.” It was too small, but there was no shortage of dead Americans who had no further use for their helmets.
On they went. Then a shell burst over Maverick’s head, and a piece of it tore out part of his shoulder blade and collarbone. On the ground but still conscious, Maverick was amazed that it seemed less than five seconds before a Medical Corps man was dressing his wound. He looked for the runners who had been with him a minute before. “The two in the middle had been cut down to a pile of horrible red guts and blood and meat, while the two men on the outside had been cut up somewhat less badly but no less fatally.”
Still Maury Maverick stayed with his company, for the simple reason that there was nobody else to take over. He found four more runners and kept going. After an hour, however, he had lost so much blood that he was getting weak. He could carry on no longer—though he could still walk. He turned the company over to Private Quinn and headed for the rear.
John S. D. Eisenhower, The Greatest U.S. Army Stories Ever Told: Unforgettable Stories of Courage, Honor, and Sacrifice, Iain C. Martin, Ed.
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