HISTORY
OF THE SEVENTY SEVENTH DIVISION
August 25th, 1917
November 11th, 1918
PHASE 1-
CAMP UPTON
As with mortals,
places "oft have fame thrust upon them." What a
rude awakening it must have been to the complacent
inhabitants of ante-bellum Yaphank, who had no thought
other than gradually to drift into old age within the
cloistered precincts of their homes, suddenly to find
their town blazoned on every lip and the cynosure of many
eyes. When the U. S. Government announced that the
training camp for the New York Division of the National
Army was to be located at Yaphank, the question
universally asked was:
"Where is
Yaphank? "
" On Long Island, " the worldly replied.
To day Long Island
owes its prominence not to the fact that Yaphank is
located within its geographical confines but rather that
it is the island upon which Yaphank is situated.
The nascence and
evolution of Camp Upton are truly remarkable. Within a
month, the seemingly impossible was entered upon and
accomplished, the construction of a city capable of
housing thirty thousand with the modern conveniences of
electricity, metalled roads, and a complete water and
sewerage system. A small army of civilian laborers and
mechanics successfully combated the fly and mosquito and
soon buildings sprang up, not "over night" but
in the space of several hours. Each building was
constructed in sections and at the sound of a whistle
forty or more men with the aid of block and tackle
hoisted the sides into place, hammers flew, men scrambled
aloft, and the roof was on. Then came the plumbers and
electricians and a few hours saw the building lighted and
water running in the kitchen ready for occupancy. It was
a triumph of efficiency made possible by the modern
methods of construction, system and cooperation.
Camp Upton, when
completed, assumed, the shape of a huge "U"
formed by the symmetrical rows of wooden barracks and the
main avenues of traffic. In the center of the " U,
" on the summit of a bill rising high above the rest
of the camp, was located Division Headquarters-"
monarch of all it surveyed. " Headquarters early
became known as "The Hill" to the advance guard
of officers arriving to begin their duties. Had Bret
Harte accompanied that advance guard he might have
thought himself in one of the western mining camps, which
his pen has immortalized.
Alighting from the
train he would have met fleets of motor trucks laden with
building materials, plowing through the mud trails
generously designated as roads by huge signs. Wooden
shacks of' every description gave the aspect of a
boomtown. Civilian guards, singularly reminiscent of the
old West, lean, bronzed, and gaunt, arrayed in
broad-brimmed hats, Grey shirts, and corduroy breeches,
rode about on decrepit mares superintending the work.
They "packed" guns in true Western fashion, as
fights and disorders were not uncommon among the
thousands of workmen. Everywhere was industry.
Carpenters, plumbers, laborers, and engineers were busily
occupied in the construction of the Division's future
Home.
View of Camp
Upton
Early as the officers appeared
at camp, they found themselves preceded by that august body, the
Military Police, one of whom directed them to "The Hill, " where they
reported to the Commanding General J. Franklin Bell.
Each officer was assigned to a regiment yet unformed, and
for the first time they heard the numbers of the
battalions and regiments which were later to gloriously
inscribe themselves on the indelible archives of history.
There was much questioning as to what the 305th or 306th
Infantry was, who was in the 307th or 308th, and who
commanded the 304th Field Artillery. At that time all the
officers of the Division were quartered in the five or
six barracks then standing. A mess was at once organized
and its running assigned to an officer whose only
previous experience with dispensing food had been as the
host at a dinner party. The mess was but one of the many
petty hardships. There was one lone pump at which to
wash, shared in common with all the laborers living in
the vicinity. The roads were all but impassable and the
dust as thick as on a drear desert in the midst of a dry
season. A trip across camp after dark was a considerable
adventure made interesting by thousands of stumps and the
guards of the 15th N. Y. colored regiment, who being
indistinguishable from the darkness had you at a
considerable disadvantage when they were at the
delivering end of a bayonet. The acetylene flares
illuminating the various offices and headquarters, and
the crowds of laborers shuffling along the roads lent
more mining camp atmosphere. In contrast to this, a month
later when camp was completed, the wooden barracks, row
upon row, every window lighted, resembled a vast flotilla
of wooden arks afloat on a dark sea.
A few days at camp
under the new army regime taught the officers that
although the camp in appearance might have some semblance
to a mining camp, the resemblance to a beehive was more
striking. This was no place for drones they discovered
after the Commanding Officers of the various units had
outlined their plans. Classes were immediately organized
and the officers put through a rigorous schedule to
insure complete familiarity with their duties. Tentative
companies formed, messes planned, and a system for
outfitting the future personnel formulated. The
enthusiasm of the officers was contagious and intense
rivalries early developed between the various
organizations-an esprit de corps arising which grew and
grew, spreading from the officers to the men until a
statement that one organization was better than another
was certain to evoke a wordy argument. Pride of company
gave way to regimental pride when the regiments moved to
the areas to which they were assigned.
Shortly after
moving, the announcement was made that the first draft
increment would arrive at camp on the 10th of September.
Officers were detailed to New York City to conduct the
men to camp. The remainder of the officers and the
non-commissioned officers (who had been assigned to each
regiment from the Regular Army) busied themselves
preparing for these men. Bed sacks were filled with
straw, each bed labeled with a number, the kitchens
stocked with food, mess kits and blankets sorted for
issue, and classification cards prepared. Enthusiasm ran
high, the, officers were as excited as a young girl
preparing for her debut.
"Is there
plenty of beef?"
"Have the beds been labeled?"
"Who is attending to the classification cards?
Entirely oblivious
of the furor their expected arrival was creating at
camp, those who were to have the honor of being the first
arrivals at Camp Upton had bid civilian life adieu (many
of them "good-bye") and were assembled at the
ferries and stations of New York and Brooklyn. Here each
increment was received from the draft officials and
allotted to trains. Many of the boards carried large,
highly expressive signs directing the Kaiser where he
might best sojourn, Musical instruments of all sorts were
brought along and many hip pockets bulged suspiciously.
Midst much bantering to and from the crowd, the trains
pulled out accompanied by a voluminous cheer from the
assembled relatives and friends. On the train the
officers called the roll to see that every-one was
present and were given an excellent opportunity to judge
the men who were to form the nucleus of the 77th
Division. They were a motley crew; some bad donned their
best suits for the occasion, but the majority wore their
oldest clothes-sensibly too, for early Upton paid no
regard to clothes. One former Marine appeared in his
dress uniform with an Expert Rifleman's Medal on his
breast. Every type was represented, the gunman and the
gangster, the student and the clerk, the laborer and the
loafer, the daily plodder, the lawyer. They could be
divided into two large classes, the man of muscle and the
man of brain. From the variety of languages spoken one
might have imagined himself at the Tower of Babel. These
divers types, accustomed to every condition of life,
knowing for the most part no master, were to bow down
before the military God, Authority, and emerge from the
melting pot of training, an amalgamated mass of
clear-thin king, clean-living men of whom America might
well be proud.
Although the men
might not have been aware that they were being judged,
certain it was the recruits were sizing up the officers
and forming their opinions. The average civilian's
idea-before the war-of an officer was a brutal, bestial
sort of person who gave orders, disobedience of which
meant dire punishment for the miscreant. He was harsh,
severe, unjust, and unfeeling-a Prussian. How these ideas
changed, best may be expressed in the words of one man
referring to a group of officers passing down the aisle:
"Say, they're regular guys. "
As is the way with
Long Island trains, they finally bore the contingent to
camp, the men were assembled at the station, somehow
formed in two ranks and marched off. What an odd
procession! Each man carried some sort of a bundle and
many wore badges announcing the board from which they
came. Proceeding slowly, for the men were unused to
marching, they were able to form impressions of each new
aspect of camp as it appeared before them. Their
thoughts, whether of' disappointment or of relief, might
be summarized in one terse phrase, "So this is
Yaphank. " (The popular conception of the camp was
at first embodied in the name Yaphank, but as more and
more soldiers made their influence felt in the
metropolis, the euphonious name Yaphank was dropped for
the military and more dignified appellation-Camp Upton.)
Arriving at the barracks designated, the men were turned
over to the receiving officers who checked each
individual, issued him a mess kit and blankets, and
assigned him to a numbered bunk where he was instructed
to remain as the numbers were the only way of telling who
was who.
The first
experience with mess dispelled another notion-army "
chow " wasn't so bad after all. The men at Upton
were well fed and there were very few complaints about
the quality or quantity of the food. After mess began the
arduous task of collecting each man's history (former
occupation, home address, relatives, special ability,
languages spoken, etc.), as a guide for assignment to the
arm of the service for which he seemed best adapted. Much
difficulty was encountered because many men could not
speak English and interpreters became popular. For
several days the officers were in a quandary because
there was one man whose language no one could speak.
Finally his English-speaking brother arrived and all was
well. A "Who's Who" of Early Upton would
probably be the most cosmopolitan compendium ever
compiled, containing as it would representatives of every
nationality and status of life.
Camp Upton in
Winter
Scarcely anyone
slept the first night on account of the Dew life's
novelty. As soon as the men obtained a taste of a bard
day's work, little trouble was found in sleeping. The
first days of camp were devoted to medical inspections,
recording the men at the mustering office, inoculating
and vaccinating them against typhoid and diphtheria, with
the much dreaded " needle, " and to clearing
away the debris surrounding the recently completed
barracks. Within a week the recruits were started on the
rudiments of drill; military discipline and courtesy were
impressed; guard duty was established, and physical
exercises began the work of hardening. Then uniforms were
issued, and later, rifles. The various regiments with
their small quotas were soon operating smoothly. The
infantry, equipped with rifles, made splendid progress,
arousing the envy of the artillery, who possessed no
equipment save picks and, shovels and wooden horses on
which were taught the fundamentals of equitation and
cannoneering. The 302d Engineers, later to win fame
abroad, found no difficulty in securing work, and many of
the roads and much construction work remain as monuments
to their efficiency. The Quartermaster and Ordnance
Departments were occupied in ordering, securing and
issuing equipment. The Medical Corps was kept busy
inoculating. Each arm had its work allotted and it became
the task of Division Headquarters to coordinate this
work, so the Division operated as a unit. Woe to the
officer who ran counter to its orders. "The
Hill" became the "Sanctum Sanctorum" and
he who was summoned thither emerged a sadder and a wiser
man.
The constructive
work was not confined to building up individuals. While
the task of training progressed, construction kept pace,
the barracks were completed, and the auditorium and other
places of amusement sprang up. Now one obtained an
impression of the vastness of the place, and realizing
that there were scores of similar camps throughout the
country, was able to visualize the, stupendous task of
raising and training an effective fighting force.
Civilization had altered. Where-as thousands formerly
decided the destiny of nations, millions were needed now.
And with the change in civilization the camp-followers of
yore, the harlot, the beggar, the thief, had disappeared.
In their stead rose those praiseworthy institutions which
have played such a great part in alleviating the
hardships of the soldier-The Red Cross, the Salvation
Army, the Knights of Columbus, the Y. M. C. A., and other
organizations. Nobly supported by the public, they spent
lavishly. Y. M. C. A. buts for each regiment, and an
auditorium seating three thousand were erected. The
Knights of Columbus built a recreation Hall and Chapel.
Through the generosity of a group of Long Island women,
luxurious Hostess houses were presented to the officers
and men. Later, an Officers' Club, a non-sectarian
church, a theater and library were added. With its miles
of barracks, its stables and garages, offices,
warehouses, railroad station, laundry, filtration plant,
huge hospital center, and places of amusement, Camp Upton
might well have been the realization of some idealist's
Utopian dream.
A visitor to camp
in mid October would have been astonished and impressed
by the transformation, which had been accomplished in a
month's time. 0 tempora, 0 mores, could it be possible
that these men marching across the parade ground in
almost perfect line, every man in step, were the same men
who arrived in camp a month before? Those flushed faces,
that erect carriage, squared shoulders, and upright heads
could it be possible that they were the same men? It
could be and was possible. That nondescript band which
arrived in camp in early September had been converted
into soldiers in the course of a month. They spoke for
themselves as to the efficiency of the military regime.
The precision and facility with which they executed their
drills reflected credit upon themselves and their
officers. Really just completing the initial stages of
army training, they already regarded themselves as
veterans. Large batches of new men poured into camp daily
and were regarded with disdain by the
"veterans," who saw in them a mirror of
themselves. When-ever the "rookies" were about
the "veterans" saluted punctiliously and added
a bit of swagger to their walk. They spoke of K. P.s,
chow, reveille, close order, and fatigue with a fluency
and nonchalance, which bespoke long acquaintance rather
than a few weeks. The "rookies" were duly
impressed at first, but it was not long before they were
fused into the melting pot. Yet for a long time they were
compelled to listen to the "veterans' " tales
of the "good old days of early Upton."
With companies operating at
somewhere near full strength the goal of attainment appeared more
clearly on the horizon. Prospective non-commissioned officers came to
the fore, and companies vied with each other in correctness of
drill and appearance. November saw the camp operating
with the facility of an oiled machine. Orders flooded the
Company Commanders, keeping them struggling until late
hours. Eight hours a day were devoted to drills, given
added interest by the presence of British and French
instructors who injected a bellicose spirit into the
work. In addition to eight hours spent with the troops,
officers were compelled to hold classes for
non-commissioned officers and to attend lectures in the
evenings. They worked from six in the morning until
midnight and many who had deemed an officer's life one of
ease decided that perhaps the "buck" private
was not so badly off after all.
During the early days of camp,
Saturday afternoon saw a mad scramble for the first train to New York.
The work of the week finished it was the desire of everyone to get away.
The antiquated wooden cars en vogue several decades back,
capable of accommodating forty people comfort-ably,
carried twice that number inside and out. At first there
was no schedule. A schedule would have been superfluous,
for a train departed when loaded and arrived in New York
sometime during the day. Purchase of theater tickets in
advance was considerable of a gamble-you might arrive in
time for the matinee, but more likely for the finale of
the evening performance. However, with the addition of
several thousand new men to camp, the Military Police
took hold of the situation, evolving order out of chaos.
A repetition of the lamentable accident of September was
not to be feared. Gates were erected and only those
holding passes could get by the vigilant M. P.s. Trains
ran on schedule and the trip to New York became less of a
venture. Returning from New York, the trains departed at
frequent intervals, a certain percentage of men being
permitted on each train. The last train, leaving New York
at 2:59 A. M. and arriving at camp in bare time for the
passengers to attend reveille, became famous as the
"Owl."
The weekend passes
not only afforded relaxation to the men after the arduous
routine duties of the week, but also gave New York an
excellent opportunity to see and judge its sons who had
been transformed into soldiers-not nominally but in
reality. Those above the draft age who "wished"
that they "could be with you boys" regarded the
men from Upton with growing envy. With uniforms neatly
pressed and shoes shined to the Nth degree, they
presented a very creditable appearance, the habits of
personal cleanliness speaking for their training. They
spoke of civilians with contempt and eagerly recounted
their experiences to their proud families. They were in
evidence everywhere, eliciting praises from proud Gotham.
Especially noticeable were the newly appointed
non-commissioned officers, who swaggered about the city
with a great swinging of arms, the better to show off
their new chevrons. One couldn't blame them for the
pardonable pride they exhibited when first introduced as
Sergeant or Corporal. The non-commissioned officers,
always the mainstay of every army, surely proved their
worth in the 77th Division, a few months later.
The 77th Ready
for Overseas Duty
With just as much
pride as the newly appointed non-commissioned officers,
but perhaps a trifle more self-conscious, the officers
from the Second Training Camps arrived at Upton to
complete the quota of officers needed to fill up the
regiments. Their initiation to camp was not under the
most favorable circumstances, for December brought snow
and literally transformed the camp into a sea of mud.
Despite the setback to the training on account of the
inclement weather, drills were carried on when possible
supplemented by lectures and problems indoors.
The Artillery was
occupied with its newly acquired horses. The
Quartermasters worked over-time supplying much needed
winter clothing and fuel. When transportation was lacking
the men, themselves, cut the wood from the abundance of
timber surrounding the camp and drew the coal wagons by
hand. The Engineers, engaged in constructing a trench
system, and a two hundred-target rifle range, had a taste
of what a winter in the trenches might be like. The
Medical Department began to come into its own. Not
content with having inoculated everyone in camp four or
five times, they conducted sanitary inspections of the
barracks, which for minuteness made a company officer
inspecting a rifle appear a mere novice. If only those
medicos left behind in the states could have witnessed
sanitary conditions at the front. Shades of Hippocrates!
December brought a
slight relaxation in the intensiveness of the training.
The Knights of Columbus and the Y. M. C. A. furnished
nightly entertainment, either moving pictures or local
talent, and men of national prominence drew large
audiences to the auditorium. The regimental bands were,
rounding into shape and gave very creditable concerts
after drill hours. Every weekend brought thousands of
friends and relatives to visit the soldiers. They arrived
by train, in automobiles, and even in trucks, bringing
with them good cheer and numerous gifts. The men saw to
it that the visitors enjoyed a full day. There was always
a sightseeing tour, including a view from the observation
tower on Headquarters Hill. The various places of
interest were pointed out, and the technical side of
military life was explained. Each company generally held
a dance in its barracks, and the Sabbath was desecrated
by lively ragtime airs. With the weekly influx of
visitors and the attendant good times, a weekend at camp
was far from being a punishment. With the advent of the
holidays, the entire camp was granted half-leave for
Christmas, and half for New Year. A huge thirty-foot
Christmas tree resplendent with colored electric lights
was erected on " The Hill" and gifts were
distributed by the Red Cross to those who remained in
camp.
As an antidote for
the holidays, work was speeded up in January. The rifle
range completed, the men were initiated into the
mysteries of the rifle. Every day saw the range crowded
and despite adverse conditions of mud and cold, the
majority made surprisingly good scores. The firing was
done from trenches in the standing, kneeling, and prone
positions, at stationary and disappearing targets and the
men soon learned not to flinch and how best to get off
ten to fifteen shots a minute with the maximum effect.
Here were learned the lessons which were put to such
excellent advantage months later in actual combat. The
results confirmed the late Colonel Roosevelt's statement
that the American youth is a born shot. The artillery,
proud of its possession of a battery of three -inch guns,
blazed away on the 3,000 yard range "somewhere in
the wilderness" surrounding camp. Maneuvers were
held daily, and mimic battles waged in the new trench
system which the Engineers had constructed. Some days it
seemed like real warfare, with the huge tank, brought
from England, lumbering over "No-Man's Land,"
machine guns in emplacements, and the infantry going
"over-the-top," their bayonets flashing in the
winter sun. The men began to realize what modern warfare
meant and talked intelligently of "zero hour,"
"parapets," "communication trenches,"
and other technical terms which a few months previous
were as a closed book.
February brought no
let up in the work but more lassitude was permitted for
recreation. Each organization was allowed to hold a
theater party in New York and the 308th Infantry scored a
triumph with a parade down Fifth Ave. on the fourth of
February, preceded by a show and a presentation of colors
at the New York Hippodrome. This regiment was the first
National Army unit to receive its colors and to parade
before the people of New York. On Washington's Birthday
the entire Division paraded before assembled Gotham. A
light snow fen which, alighting on the drab uniforms,
formed a striking contrast to the healthy faces of the
men. The precision and unison with which the Division
marched called for cheer upon cheer from the thousands
gathered along the route of march. At the Public Library
the Division was reviewed by the Secretary of the Navy.
What a glow of pride the men felt as they realized that
they were no longer spectators but the actual
participants in the great war game in which they were to
play such a stellar role. New York, generally so sparing
with its praise, gave way to unbounded enthusiasm, which
seemed to be a unanimous sanction of the manner in which
its sons had been transformed. What a contrast to the
motley bands which bad left for camp the previous
September. Washington's Birthday marks the day when New
York realized that the 77th Division had risen to the
side of its sister division, the 27th, but while the
latter organization was mothered by the State, the
77thwas New York City's own, and from that day hence the
Division has proudly borne the title of " New York's
Own. "
With the advent of
blustery March came ever increasing and persistent rumors
of sailing for France. And there was evidence in
abundance to bear out the usually fickle Dame Rumor,
equipment of every sort began to arrive in unprecedented
quantities. Each piece had to be stamped and stenciled
with the name and number of the organization to which it
belonged. It was an easy task to obtain a superfluity of
eager volunteers to speed the work of preparation. Soon
the neat, orderly barracks of the past assumed the aspect
of warehouses. Boxes were constructed and piled along the
walls, each bearing besides the name of the organization
and the speculative destination-A. E. F., the new
Division insignia, the Statue of Liberty. There was row
upon row of clothing assorted into sizes, revolvers,
tents, saddles, harness, canteens, belts, and the
thousand and one accoutrements which are necessary
adjuncts to the fighting man. It was universally conceded
that Uncle Sam was generous, there had been plenty of
work, an abundance of drill, sufficient food and now
there seemed to be a superabundance of equipment. The
Government was generous to its enlisted personnel, but to
the officers-no. They received a forbidding list of
necessities which they themselves were compelled to
purchase and many a bank account was taxed to the limit
and many a note taken for those "necessities"
later to be thrown away or uselessly stored in some
warehouse in France.
After the middle of
the month everyone realized that the day of departure was
imminent and the joyous days of Upton were soon to fade
into memories. Major General Bell was relieved from
command on account of physical disability shortly after
his return from France and he was succeeded by Brigadier
General Evan M. Johnson, up to this time the Commander of
the 154th Infantry Brigade. Carrying out the liberal
policy of his predecessor, General Johnson granted passes
to everyone desiring to visit their families. Tearful
relatives and friends flooded camp for a farewell talk
with their soldier boy, only to be told by that person,
in very confident and calm tones, not at all indicative
of the emotions that were surging within him, that the
Division would not leave for months. They were comforted
and went away appeased which was best. But the soldier
knew, and to cover the sadness he felt at the proximity
of parting from his loved ones gave way to his pent-up
emotions by riotous parades, bonfires, and a great
banging of kitchen utensils. Everyone joined in the
celebrations with a vim, which was indicative of the
spirit in which the Division later went up against and so
ably helped to defeat the Boche.