A hellish week in the Argonne Forest

“Life would be a lot simpler if we would choose our duties and our obligations, but we can’t. And we shouldn’t.” Quote attributed to Charles W. Whittlesey

The big push, the all-out effort of General John J. Pershing to show the world that his United States First Army could win the war before Christmas by breaking through a sector of the Western Front that the enemy had held firmly for four years, started on the morning of September 26th 1918 after a 24-hour artillery bombardment. After an encouraging advance the attack stalled, but Pershing ordered his troops to move forward “... without regard of losses and without regard to the exposed conditions of the flanks. ... .” These last words would become reality in the story of ‘The Lost Battalion”, one of remarkable leadership and valour, but also one of hardship and carnage.

The name ‘Lost Battalion’ however is a misnomer. First of all it was not a regular battalion but it consisted of the remnants of four battalions of the Seventy-seventh Division’s infantry, also known as the Metropolitan Division, the Statue of Liberty emblem on its shoulder patches, men from varied ethnic backgrounds and trades, largely from New York City, but also draftees from the Northwest plains. Second, it was not lost, because its commanding officer, Major Charles (Chas) White Whittlesey, was fully aware of his position on a steep slope of a ravine on the left flank of the Argonne Forest.  

October 2nd, the first day

The 77th Division,’ of which ‘The Lost Battalion’ was a part, had been ordered by its commanding Major General Alexander to advance to the Binarville-Charlevaux Mill road and to take it. Early in the morning of Wednesday October 2nd, a wet and foggy day, the battalion, went on its way straight north into the pitch dark Argonne forest, Major Whittlesey leading point. The men slowly but surely advanced through a ravine under severe machine gun fire and mortar shelling, until they were pinned down by heavy fire coming from a fortification on the western side.

To their surprise they took less fire from the eastern side, so that afternoon they stormed and captured the German trenches on Hill 198, held by elder enemy soldiers. Later on they crossed Charlevaux Creed on a narrow bridge and dug funkholes in the hillside. After that Whittlesey send out runners to inform headquarters of his position.

With the Germans on top of the hill above them, he then ordered his men to form a small pocket, with French light machine guns on its flanks. When evening fell, the men, with no overcoats or blankets, were in for a cold and dark night. In the meantime Whittlesey was unaware that the troops on his flanks had been unsuccessful in their attacks. Even worse, during the night the Germans recaptured Hill 198 and part of the trenches over which the battalion had come before, which meant that they were cut off and surrounded. He and his second in command, a veteran of the Spanish-American War, Captain George McMurtry would discover this the next day.

When the news of Whittlesey’s breakthrough, transferred through runners, reached headquarters of 77th Division that afternoon of the 2nd October, Major General Alexander ordered to move forward that same night and send in four rifle companies as reinforcement.

No more runners

Early Thursday morning October 3rd one of these companies, under the command of Captain Nelson Holderman, managed to find Whittlesey and joins the band of survivors. About the same time Whittlesey’s patrols discovered Germans on both their flanks, meaning that the battalion was entirely enclosed. Even runners would not get through anymore.

By noon Whittlesey, McMurtry and Holderman, being aware of their fragile position, knowing that that there were only 550 men left in the pocket, some severely wounded, decided to make a stand. They had their message clerk deliver the following message to the company commanders: “Our mission is to hold this position at all costs. No falling back. Have this understood by every man in your command.”

Later on, totally cut off and without the possibility to make use of his couriers, Whittlesey sent a carrier pigeon to his division’s headquarters with a message stating his isolated position and asking for reinforcement and artillery support. Unfortunately all division’s reserve troops were already deployed so the men in the pocket remained on their own.

All afternoon long violent mortar fire and hand grenades pounded the American position, in preparation of the first of many attacks to come. Even under this immense pressure, Whittlesey's men held their ground, but at a price; one-third of the men were killed or seriously injured. At nightfall one of the pigeons delivered a message, an almost desperate request for food, ammunition and artillery support.

Friendly fire

Friday the 4th began well when one of Holderman’s patrols discovered a gap in the German line, opening a debate about retreating. Whittlesey and McMurtry however decided against it, realizing that they had to leave their wounded behind at the mercy of the Germans. Whittlesey then used two of his last four pigeons to remind headquarters of their shortage of food and medical supplies.

Early that afternoon an Allied plane flew over the pocket. It was the first plane they saw during their ordeal. Their cheers however were short-lived as a few minutes later a barrage of artillery fire, starting behind them, slowly moved towards them, directly into their position.

Whittlesey immediately reacted by ordering Omer Richards, a young private, to prepare a pigeon.  Overwhelmed by the storm around him, the pigeon handler let one of the remaining birds escape. Now the daunting task rested on the last pigeon, named ‘Cher Ami’. He was dispatched with a note, written on onion paper, in a canister on her left leg. The message was: “We are along the road parallel to 276.4. Our own artillery is dropping a barrage directly on us. For heaven’s sake stop it.” It took ‘Cher Ami’ nearly two hours to overcome a hail of enemy rifle fire and shrapnel before it reached its loft. Shortly after the order was given to stop the barrage.

By then many a good man had been killed by American shellfire, ‘friendly fire’. Among them was Battalion Sergeant Major Benjamin (Ben) F Gaedeke. Private Robert Manson, Whittlesey’s orderly, said later: “Gaedeke’s body disappeared completely. We could only find his helmet and his pistol,” The remains of Benjamin Gaedeke rest on the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery in Romagne-sous-Montfaucon, Plot D, Row 46, Grave 31. It is well worth a visit.

The following days

The circumstances were still terrible. Hunger was omnipresent. Sleeping was virtually impossible, and exhaustion imminent. The sound of wounded men suffering was unbearable. Working on the burial holes was a struggle. Rain fell throughout the days and freezing temperatures ruled the nights. But it was not the weather, nor the hunger that unnerved the men that Sunday morning. It was a sound that came out of the dark forest, the terrifying sound of flamethrowers. Liquid fire was poured upon them from above.

The last day

As darkness fell the night of October 7th the situation seemed hopeless. Ammunition had almost run out and the exhaustion of the men had reached its lowest point. Whittlesey had even given up hope that Abe Krotoshinsky, one of the runners he send out earlier, was still alive, as two other men who had gone off with him thought he had been killed. They were wrong. Shortly after 7 o’clock a patrol of riflemen from the 77th Division, guided by Krotoshinsky walked into the pocket and relieved the “Lost Battalion’. Whittlesey had held his position together with his men, mostly Irish, Polish, Italian and Jewish immigrants from New York, without food, water, ammunition and medical supplies. 

Terrible losses

The final casualty count lists 107 men killed in action, 190 wounded in action and 63 missing in action. Many of the soldiers that died were buried at the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery and Memorial in France. The U.S. Army awarded the Medal of Honor to three soldiers involved in the siege, including Major then Lieutenant Colonel Whittlesey, a battlefield promotion.

1921

In 1918 Charles White Whittlesey, born in Florence, Wisconsin, thirty four years old Harvard man, led his valiant battalion during five days with unprecedented courage. On Armistice Day 1921, Whittlesey, McMurtry, Holderman and other Medal of Honor winners attended the dedication of the new Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery. Whittlesey seemed ill at ease that day. On November 26th, Whittlesey had dinner with the ship’s captain on the USS Toloa as he traveled from New York to Havana. Around 11:15 p.m., after chatting with a couple of passengers about his experience in the war, he excused himself from the smoking room to go to bed.  He was never seen or heard from again. The charismatic leader of the ‘Lost Battalion’ was now really lost.

Summary by Bob Latten.

© Thanks to Robert Laplander’s ‘Finding the Lost Battalion: Beyond the Rumors, Myths and Legends of America's Famous WW1 Epic’, American Heritage, Lieutenant James V. Leak of Company E, 308th Infantry, ‘Blood in the Argonne: The "Lost Battalion" of World War I’ by Alan D. Gaffand, and many others.