Part 2 (1/2)
What magnificent men these priests of St. Stephen's and the Ordinariate!
How worthy to be a.s.sociated with the Bishop who so kindly, so wisely, and so well cared for the Chaplains in the National service.
Reporting at once to Camp Merritt I entered upon my Army duties.
CHAPTER III
CAMP MERRITT--LEVIATHAN--AT SEA
The gallant Seventh Division, destined to render a service well worthy of Old Glory, was then commanded by Brigadier General Baarth with Col. W. W.
Taylor, Jr., Chief of Staff, and Col. John Alton Degan, Adjutant.
It comprised the 34th, 55th, 56th and 64th Regiments of Infantry; the 6th and 7th Regiments of Field Artillery; 19th, 20th and 21st Machine Gun Battalions, 10th Field Signal Battalion and Divisional Sanitary and Supply Trains, with a complete field equipment of 32,000 men.
The Chaplain's Corps of the Seventh comprised Rev. Fathers Martin and Trainor, and Rev. Messrs. Cohee, Rixey, Hockman and Evans. Fathers Gwyer and LeMay joined in France. All these Chaplains rendered a brave and excellent service, meriting the respect and confidence of officers and men alike.
Departure of that mighty fighting force from Camp Merritt was deeply impressive. At the midnight hour of the First Friday in August, Ma.s.s was said for the last time, and hundreds of the boys received Holy Communion. Within an hour all were on the march, under full pack, along the country road, leading to the Palisades of the Hudson.
The night was densely dark, and grimly each soldier trudged along, guided only by the bobbing pack of the comrade in front of him. Chill gray dawn saw the head of the column emerge from the hills at a secluded point on the Jersey sh.o.r.e, where waiting ferry boats were boarded, which conveyed us to the wharf of the Leviathan at Hoboken.
How thrilled we were to find this giant of all the seven a.s.signed to carry us ”Over There!” Nine hundred feet long, one hundred feet wide, thirty-six feet draft and nine stories deep! Like some fabled monster of the sea, which well her weird camouflaged sides suggested, she opened her cavernous jaws and received as but a morsel thirteen thousand men.
Here was our first contact with the gallant Navy--here did the mighty tide of khaki gold merge with the deep sea blue of heroes.
”Columbia loves to name Whose deeds shall live in story And everlasting fame.”
Leaning nonchalantly on the rail of their mighty s.h.i.+p, the Jackies, all perfect specimens of young American manhood, quietly watched us march aboard. We were as novel to them as they to us, yet what confidence they inspired! Curiously yet kindly they looked us over, approvingly observed the long orderly lines of our glittering rifles stretching away through the dim sheds, and seemed to say, ”You are worth while fellows!--we'll take you over all right, all right, for our little old Uncle Sam!”
To quarter, feed, and sleep 32,000 men; to carry them across 3,000 miles of angry pathless sea, where lurked the deadly mine, and prowled, as panthers of the deep, the submarines--this was the task a.s.signed to the Leviathan and our convoy s.h.i.+ps, the Northern Pacific and the Northland.
How well our superb Navy ”carried on” not only for us but for seventy times our number, let the most brilliant pages of seafaring annals tell!
With perfect co-ordination between our Army and the s.h.i.+p authorities, all troops, equipment, and provisions were aboard within ten hours; and promptly at three o'clock the following afternoon the Leviathan swung out from her pier on the North River and headed seaward.
In serried ranks, silent and still as at attention, the troops lined both sides of the upper and lower decks. As at the funeral of Sir John Moore ”not a drum was heard,” for who can cheer at the thought of dear ones left behind, with the kiss of fond farewell still lingering in loving memory on the lip, with the soldier's requiem echoing through lonely hearts:
”Farewell, mother, you may never Press me to your heart again; When upon the field of battle I'll be numbered with the slain.”
As we pa.s.sed down the city front, every building, on both the New York and Jersey sides, burst into color; handkerchiefs signaled a last farewell; and out of the mists of our tears seemed to rise a mighty rainbow, spanning s.h.i.+p and receding sh.o.r.es, and spelling in letters of heavenly hue, ”G.o.d be with you till we meet again.”
With destroyers ahead, astern, and on the beam, two hydroplanes circling and paralleling above, and a solitary observing balloon hovering over the Long Island sh.o.r.e, our s.h.i.+p and convoys stood boldly out to sea.
We were now in the war zone, easily within range of hidden mines and torpedoes, and, like the charger who scents the battle from afar, we thrilled and were glad with the thought of daring deeds before us.
The s.h.i.+p Chaplain was good Father McDonald, Captain United States Navy, one of the most beloved and notable figures of the war. Every evening at the sunset hour he would go to the bridge. The Commander of the Leviathan, Captain Bryan, together with his staff, would be there a.s.sembled; and, as the last rays of the sun sank beneath the waves, every soldier and sailor on board would stand rigidly at attention and offer prayer as Father McDonald would raise his hand in absolution and benediction.
How near G.o.d seemed in that vast, horizon-wide cathedral of the sea! Its vaulting dome more radiant than St. Peter's sculptured prayer; its altar, clothed with the lace of ocean foam; its pavement strewn with silvery sheen; its sanctuary light the candelabra of the stars. ”I will lead thee into solitude and there I will speak to thy soul.” G.o.d, Eternity, and Things Divine were here made real; and to each lonely boy wrapped in blanket on the dark cold deck, there came the message that: