A Chaplain Goes over the Top: Driving on Montfaucon with the 79th Division in September 1918

In August 1918, Father James F. McNary, pastor at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Hamilton, Ohio, departed for service in France. Assigned to the 316th Infantry of the 79th Division, he took part in the opening assault of the Meuse-Argonne offensive on September 26, 1918. He wrote this remarkable letter to his friend Karl Krieger back in Hamilton two weeks after "going over the top." 

Chaplain James F. McNary, 316th Infantry, 79th Division 

Somewhere in France

October 10, 1918

          I wrote you on September 25^th but I fear you will never get that one since I went over the top on September 26^th and left your letter in my mass outfit in the trench and since then I have been unable to locate it. In theory, the chaplain is not supposed to go over the top, but unless you do so, you lose your regiment and consequently are unable to do the work for which you are in the army. I will endeavor to give you an outline of this terrific drive if you will pardon errors and a disconnected story.

          We proceeded to the trenches in this manner; we wrapped up our bedding rolls with all effects and left them in our camp which was an immense wood with dugouts where we were living. In pitch dark about 8:30 p.m., we began marching with packs on backs, said pack containing a blanket, half a tent, and mess kit. In addition, I had my mass outfit. About 10 p.m., the camp was shelled and our bedding rolls torn to shreds. You know I lost my trunk at Brest and the remainder of my worldly goods at Camp Normandie.

          We marched until 11 p.m. and then down, down into a long dugout trench where I slept for an hour then went hiking to the trenches amidst the most terrible barrage which began at 1 a.m. To my mind, it combined all the terrors of all the thunder and lightning storms I had ever been through or expect to go through in my life. But frightened as we or least I was, I just hiked along and when I became too tired, the C.O. would take my mass outfit and carry it for a time.

          The barrage continued until 5:30 a.m. and we rested in the trenches for a time, during which I said mass and then placed my blankets and mass outfit in a trench and at 7 over the top I went with my company. We were in support and crawled along, dodging enemy shells of gas and shrapnel, machine guns shooting at 500 rounds per minute, and snipers in case all else failed. For two days we did that and then we took the front line and it was our privilege to capture Montfaucon and proceed to take Natillois. The reason I mention names is that, ere you receive this, you will have read all about it.

Ruins of Montfaucon

          After four days’ drive, we were relieved by a fresh division and thus it goes so you readily understand when fresh division are at hand to take up a drive and give the enemy no rest, how it is a question of a short time, comparatively speaking, of when our enemies will capitulate. During the drive, we slept little except in shell holes or perhaps in the woods and we have very little to eat or drink, except what we carry as reserve rations, but the American soldier is the most utterly unselfish human one can imagine. He wants every iota that is due him, but he will share the last crumb he can pick off the eyebrow with his fellow soldier, officers and men alike.

          There is no distinction in the battle line, except that our particular outfit and I feel ours is no different from the others. We lost in casualties a greater percentage of officers than men. We went in with 22 officers in our battalion and came back with five. Our officers led and our major surely should have been a casualty, but, as he says, God spared him for his wife and child in Pittsburgh. [Major Harry D. Parkin whose memoir Serpents of War is highly recommended] He is fearless in danger, but the most remarkable feature to me after such a drive is that any of us are living. God surely was good to me and I trust his blessed Mother will continue to please with the sacred heart for me.

          After we had advanced our two days, September 28^th and 29^th, we rested on Monday and then Monday afternoon were replaced by another division and returned to our camp, but as we went through this famous hill village, the shells began dropping and, while I escaped thank God, some were hit on the way back. While we were resting, I buried twelve men Monday afternoon, but actually we were so accustomed to the sound that it did not disturb us at all.

          We got nothing at all on a drive except information from German prisoners. One crowd of eight to whom I talked said they remained 24 hours waiting for us to take them and they were happy to be in American hands. One of the lads, aged 20 and a Catholic, whom I talked to showed me his little prayer book and scapular after I showed him I was a priest and a chaplain. He had received communion last May and also informed me he was too frightened to say his morning prayers that morning. He was truthful alright, and I felt sorry for him. 

          The ones for whom one has little pity are the machine gunners who, after they exhaust their bullets, cry “kamerad.” If they were really sincere, they would cry “kamerad” and quit before they had done their damage. But once they have done all the damage they could, it is cowardly to “kamerad” us. Mind you, they are soldiers and ought to do their duty and shoot all they can, but then be willing to take their medicine. However, take it from me, the American is not brutal; he listens to their cry and when he is sure they have exhausted their ammunition he takes them prisoner and is not at all even unkind, he is only curious. But despite all the prisoners I saw in American hands, I have yet to hear or see anything improper in our treatment of them which is as it should be. I sure can talk from experience now and tell everyone to consider the doughboy and his hardships and blush for shame if ever a thought against Hooverizing tarries even momentarily in his mind.

Source:

Letter from First Lieutenant/Chaplain James Francis McNary, 316^th Infantry, 79^th Division, Butler County Democrat (Ohio), November 14, 1918, pgs. 7-8