STORY OF THE 7TH MACHINE BATTALION
By 1ST LIEUT. LUTHER W. COBBEY
Funkhouser Memorial
Paul Taylor Funkhouser
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STORY OF THE 7TH MACHINE BATTALION
By 1ST LIEUT. LUTHER W. COBBEY
Page 1 - Page 2
Source:
Funkhouser Memorial
c. 1920
pp. 114-136
Back to the Paul Taylor Funkhouser Page
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©2000
Christopher D. Myers
All Rights Reserved
September 14, 2000
STORY OF THE 7TH MACHINE BATTALION
By 1ST LIEUT. LUTHER W. COBBEY
Paul Meets His Brother
It was during this time that Paul went to Gondrecourt and saw his brother.
A bunch of officers out of the Battalion went through Gondrecourt and
dropped Paul at Gondrecourt, re turning in the evening. Paul was waiting
with Albert, and it was here that Paul introduced Albert to the other
officers of the Battalion.
St. Mihiel
Shortly after our return from this trip we started for the St. Mihiel
sector. Of course we were moving towards a destination not yet known to
us, but we afterwards found it was St. Mihiel. From our rest town,
Villers-le-Sec, all the way to the starting point of this drive we moved
only at night and spent the days in the woods. The route was through the
town of Nautois, Ligny-en-Barrois, Commercy, Gironville and Rambucourt;
Rambucourt being in the line. This movement took us about six days by
trucks. The weather during this time was rainy, night and day, making the
movement at night just twice as hard.
On the night of September 12th our Battalion was attached to the First
Battalion of the 16th Infantry, 1st Division. The 3rd Division, our
division, did not take part in the St. Mihiel drive. We left our trucks
at Rambucourt and hiked eight kilometers in the rain and mud to Xivray,
the starting off point. We finally reached our destination about two
o'clock in the morning. We were ahead of our own artillery, just behind
our own lines.
Whenever we came to a stop of this kind Paul and I always got together.
We were standing in the rain alongside the road. Different outfits were
going and coming, getting ready for the attack along the road. The
amusement that we got out of the night was to listen to the men and the
remarks that they passed to one another. It was so dark you could not
see any one but everybody was in good spirits, although it was raining
and was very muddy. Paul would call out to the passing men and ask them
what outfit they were out of, and he would get back answers of this
nature, which amused us immensely: "I am out of the Alabama balloon
corps. Who in hell are you?" "I am out of the submarine corps."
Somebody else would speak up and say he was out of a detachment that was
"detailed to protect the tanks from rain", and such crazy remarks
caused a great deal of laughter. One fellow was heard to say that for every
drop of water that touched him that night, "a dutchman I get tomorrow".
We Smoke
We stood this about as long as we could. I told Paul I would try and get
some sleep. Paul wanted to know where I was going to sleep. I told him I
was going to flop on the ground. He said: "Let us get a smoke first."
There were orders against smoking and we had issued orders to our men not
to smoke on account of making lights, but Paul took off his pistol and belt
and threw it on the ground and we laid on the ground with his raincoat
over our heads and stole a smoke. After finishing the smoke we tried to
sleep, and we did sleep for about half an hour.
We were awakened by the commencement of our barrage. Knowing that it was
nearing the time to start we decided to join our platoons and get ready.
Paul having thrown his pistol to one side was unable to find it. Naturally
he blamed the dutch men for everything that went wrong. We were unable
to find his gun. What made it still harder for Paul was that he had hurt
his knee before coming to the line. He was hobbling around with a cane
and made life that much more miserable, and then to loose his gun made
him that much more disagreeable; but to hear him talk you would think
there was nobody on earth but the dutchman that could cause trouble,
and he blamed everything on the dutch.
At 5:30 that morning we started forward, and a grander sight will never
be seen. We had Montsec on our left all day. Montsec is a high bill that
was supposed to be impossible for any attacking troops to take. It was
not taken, but was flanked on both sides, and finally surrounded, and
those on the hill captured.
During the advance in the morning there was a little shell fire from the
enemy. Paul had his platoon somewhat in advance of mine, and a shell
hit near Paul, and for a while I could not see him on account of the mud
and smoke. Finally I saw him and he was still moving forward, still
hobbling on his cane, and what I thought of at the time was his old remark:
"Gee, ain't the dutch rough? It ain't fair".
The tanks were just ahead of Paul's platoon. We came to the crest of a
hill, two of the tanks were put out of commission by German anti-tank
guns, and from that on it meant that the infantry and machine guns must
go ahead without tanks. Paul's platoon being in the open, he had a chance
to put out of commission four machine guns in the east edge of the woods
north east of Montsec. I myself never fired a shot during the St. Mihiel
battle. From Paul I never heard the last of that. He would kid me about
my not getting into action where he was able to do some good work.
We were in position just before dark near the town of Nonsard.
Paul is "Bawled Out"
It was at this position that Paul claimed he had the honor of being "bawled
out by a General", and it was about one of the funniest things I ever
witnessed. I was lying in a shell hole not far from where Paul was. A
General, to use Paul's words, "breezed up and commenced to bellow
like an old cow", wanting to know who the guns belonged to and
why they were placed as they were. Paul, thinking it his duty to come
to the rescue and tell the General the why and wherefore, commenced
o hobble towards the General.
The General seeing him, asked: "And who are you?"
Paul answered: "Lieut. Funkhouser, Sir."
The General then asked him by whom the guns had been placed in the way
they were. Paul started to explain and the General stopped him, telling
Paul to "double time" to him be fore he answered. Paul told him he
could not on account of his bum knee. The General in return asked him what
his rank was. Paul in a meek way answered: "Second Lieutenant, Sir."
The General then told him that he was "too low of rank" and
"too slow" to talk to him.
The General then took out his grouch on an infantry captain who was
unlucky enough to come his way. To use Paul's expression, Paul "eased
off into a shell hole and camouflaged out of sight" of the General.
Capt. Cook witnessed the scene but did not go to the res cue of Paul.
Paul claimed that he would get even with us some day for letting him
stand up to the General by himself. Paul said, in speaking about the
General saying he was "too low of rank and too slow to talk"
to him, that he "did not want to talk with the General anyway,"
which we all agreed was right. Paul claimed that this General must have
been at the front for the first time and was in a hurry to get out of sight.
It so happened that we did not change the guns the way the General
thought he wanted them. The General left and we left the guns as they
were because they were in the proper position to protect the terrain.
Just before dark that evening we again moved forward, taking up a position,
our furthest position in St. Mihiel sector, near Hattonville.
We "Flip" for a Bed
At this place Capt. Cook told the three platoon officers, Lieuts. Hose,
Paul and me that one of us could go into the town to sleep. To settle who
should go, we "flipped" for it. It so turned out that Paul and
I remained out in the open. A colder night I don't believe we ever spent.
It seemed as though it was the dead of winter. In order to make ourselves
comfortable Paul and I found a shell hole which was large enough to
accomodate both of us. We then went out on a salvaging party of our own
and collected up a bunch of blankets and put them into the shell hole.
We were so close to the Germans here that we could have no fires nor smoke
cigarettes. However, we were quite snug in our little home. We spent the
next day in this position reading a book which I had managed to carry
along. I think the book was "The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come."
Paul would read to me and then I would read to Paul. I for got to mention
that we had done this several times on other fronts. Another book we read
to each other was "The Gentleman from Indiana".
It was also here that Paul had a man in his platoon who was writing a
letter home when a shell came along, a piece of which went through the man's
hand. Paul made the remark, "that was a dickens of a way to treat a
man when he was writing home", and again his old remark, "that
is playing rough; that is what I call dirty."
That evening we moved back to a woods near Buxerulles. We remained in
this woods a few days and then the movement was begun towards another
sector, unknown. Again all of the movements were made by night.
The route taken was by way of Commercy, Bar-le-Duc, Rembercourt,
Jubecourt and Montzeville, which place is just behind the trench
system. Near each of the towns named we spent maybe a night or two
in the woods, arriving at Montzeville about the 23rd of September.
At Montzeville there was a shack in the woods that we used as our
officers' mess hall. We spent about four days here, playing cards
and doing one thing or another. This is the first place we had remained
long enough, or rather had the opportunity, to take a bath since the St.
Mihiel drive. This bath we took in the Meuse River.
Paul and the Jam
During the trip between the St. Mihiel sector and the Argonne sector I
had the thankless job of mess officer. Being the lowest rank commissioned
officer in the company, they naturally pushed this job off on me. To
make things more miserable and a little harder, rations were slow in
coming through. The only thing we had plenty of was sugar. Jellies and
jam came in only two and three cans at a time. In order to have a spread
of jam at one time to feed the company we had to save up from time to time.
Paul was a great lover of jam and sweet stuff. I had a certain place to
keep the jam until we could have sufficient to feed the company. I
noticed that it kept disappearing, a can at a time. The Mess Sergeant
and myself were unable to find out the cause, so we set a guard to watch
our jam and discovered that Paul was the guilty party. I then issued
orders to the Mess Sergeant not to allow Lieut. Funkhouser to have any
jam without a written order from me as the Mess Officer. Paul, in trying
to get the jam, told the Mess Sergeant to get him a can of jam. The Mess
Sergeant told him that he had orders from Lieut. Cobbey not to let him
have any jam. Lieut. Funkhouser tried to get on the good side of the Mess
Sergeant and get the jam, but failed to get it, so in order to get the jam,
and ranking me, he told the Mess Sergeant to follow him:
He said: "I hereby reduce Lieut. Cobbey from Mess Officer and appoint
Lieut. Funkhouser Mess Officer."
Then he gave the sergeant orders to "trot out" the jam. While he
was in the act of devouring our precious jam I walked in on him. Supposing,
of course, that I was still Mess Officer, I gave the customary growl.
Paul informed me that he had already relieved me and appointed himself as
Mess Officer. Naturally, I was tickled to death to get rid of the job as
Mess Officer.
Paul not caring to be Mess Officer any more than I did, after he had
finished the jam, said the following: "I hereby reduce Lieut.
Funkhouser from Mess Officer and officially appoint Lieut. Cobbey Mess
Officer."
I then decided that I would have to use a different method in order to
protect my jam, so I had the Mess Sergeant put the jam down in the sugar
at the bottom of the sack, a place that was beyond Paul to find; however,
I was greatly surprised that he did not, as I supposed that he could find
jam anywhere.
Being unable to discover the hiding place he came to me and asked that he
might be given a little jam. Before I would give him any I told him to
"plead like a good fellow", and he made a plea that any lawyer would
envy. It was, in part, as follows: "Lieut. Cobbey, Sir, if I could but
make you realize what harm you are doing your country by keeping this jam
away from the said Lieut. Funkhouser you would give him the jam at once.
By giving Lieut. Funkhouser jam you might even enable him to issue orders
even to General Pershing himself. It might even enable Lieut. Funkhouser
to save the American army from a great defeat". He argued along this
line until I either could not stand it any longer or else I figured that he
deserved the jam; then I would write an order to the Mess Sergeant to allow
Lieut. Funkhouser to have a can of jam, which, by the way, I always made
him share with me. With such things as this we were able to create a little
fun and get a little enjoyment out of the most tedious jobs and undertakings
we had.
Paul always in talking about returning said that he was to study law, and
in order to not get fully away from or forget how to argue on one thing or
another would start such arguments with me. For instance, while we were on
the Marne one of the boys found a little deer which we carried with us
everywhere we went. Paul's arguments were first about the deer's name,
"Fritzie", which he claimed was enough in itself to kill an
innocent, inoffensive animal of that kind. He would claim that the deer
loved him more than it did me. We would try to prove to one another by
calling the deer; that the deer would come to the one it loved best, but
the deer paid no attention to either of us. Another one of Paul's arguments
was: "Which is the most harmful, gas shells or H. E. (High Explosive)?"
I always argued that the High Explosive were the worse. Paul would
take the other side. We would carry this argument back and forth, and at
times we have had the whole company around us to listen to the different
arguments that were made.
Writing Home
I recall one other instance from which we derived a little pleasure and
drew us closer to each other, was in writing letters home. Nobody will
ever realize what a job it was on account of the censorship, to write
an interesting letter home. Several times I would decide to write home
and then get disgusted, and call to Paul: "Funky, dictate a letter";
and Paul would then dictate a letter which I would write and send to my
different brothers and sisters. Paul was about my equal when it came to
spelling, which I am sorry to say, on my part, was rotten. I would ask
Paul how to spell a word. Paul would say, "How in the dickens do
you expect me to spell a word like that?" He would spell it the
way he thought was correct. I would do the same thing. If by hard luck
we did not spell it alike, we had to decide which was correct by flipping
a coin. If it came tails, I was the best speller; if it was heads, Paul
would say, "I told you so".
On an occasion of this kind I remember Paul asked me the question:
"Cobbey, do you realize or understand why it is I have such a wonderful
vocabulary?" Naturally I could not quite gather what he meant, and said
"No". He said, "It is because I am such a rotten speller that
I have to know many words that have the same meaning in order to find one
that I can spell and use.
On the night of September 24th, about 11 o'clock, the biggest and most
terrific barrage that we had yet seen was laid down by the allies. It
lasted until zero hour, which was about seven o'clock in the morning. Our
Division was in reserve at the time and we made no movement.
We remained in this place until September 29th, when we received a hurry
up call to take position, that another Division (the 79th) had fallen down.
We were rushed into the line that night to relieve this division. On
arriving at the respective lines we found nothing to relieve, this division
having been broken up, and had retreated.
From now on until October 20th our Battalion was in either support or
reserve. At this time we went through worse shell fire and gas than at
any other time during our past experience, either in the Argonne or
elsewhere. It was raining every day and night and things were generally
uncomfortable.
At Montfaucon - Our Tin Shack
Somewhere around the 5th of October we moved to Monfaucon. At Montfaucon
Lieut. Wood, Lieut. Hose, Paul and I had a little tin shack for our sleeping
quarters. This tin shack stood on top of ground. Most of them were underground.
The only protection that it gave us was from the rain. We had in there a
little stove. We spent several days and nights here in comparative comfort.
In fact we were so much better off than the majority that we thought
ourselves mighty lucky.
From this tin shack Paul wrote his last letter home, October 12, 1918.
To sleep we never removed any clothing, and always kept our respirators
around our necks and our pistols under our heads. One night I will not
forget. We were all in bed or lounging in our bunks. We were kidding one
another or telling jokes when the dutchmen decided to shell the woods we
were in. None of us cared to get out into the mud and rain and go into a
shell hole, so we laid there. Paul made the remark that the dutchmen were
again taking advantage of a little pleasure we were having and were trying
to "muss things up". About that time a piece of shell passed through
the side of the tin shack, passing between the upper and lower bunks and
going out through the other side of the shack. We decided that was getting
a little close, or a "little rough" as Paul called it at the
time, so we got off of the wooden bunks and lay fiat on the floor. Another
shell sent a fragment through the side of the shack and passed through
the bunk that Lieut. Hose had just vacated.Paul claimed that if it had
not been for his suggestion to get on the floor that Hose would have been
"spending the rest of his life in bed", meaning, of course, that
Lieut. Hose would have been relieved from any more worry at the line.
Later on we moved from these woods on to the same hill on which the
town or village of Montfaucon was located. Here Paul and I made a truck
our home.
Out of Our Truck into a Shell Hole
Again, at this place we had a book which we took turns in reading to one
another. There was nothing in particular to do, except to wait for orders
and try to keep the men from getting bumped off from shell fire. One
afternoon Paul and I were lying in the bottom of this truck, covered with
blankets, making ourselves just as comfortable as possible. I was reading
the book to Paul at the time. The shells commenced to come a little close
and I made the suggestion that we had better get out of the truck and get
into a shell hole, as it would probably be safer. Paul was disgusted with
me and says, "What do you think? Do you think I will move from this
comfort out into the mud?" I replied that he might wish later on that
he had, but he said that if a shell did hit the truck he would not know
the difference any way, and might as well enjoy life if possible. About
two more shells came over before Paul was finally will ing to move; and
what convinced him was a piece of shell that came through the roof or
canvass of the truck and hit Paul on the chest. It did not have enough
force to go through the rain coat that Paul had on, but any way Paul beat
me to the shell hole. I told him then that he would probably listen to me
after that.
Little things like this were continually coming up that we would make
light of, and in this way obtain what enjoyment or pleasure we could out
of the life we were living.
While at Montfaucon Paul was sent on several reconnaissances to the front
line. To make a reconnaissance of this kind meant a great deal of danger and
many thrilling experiences. When Paul would come in he would relate the things
that he had gone through during his reconnaissance. He told me on his return
from one of the reconnaissances that if I wanted a thrilling experience to
go out alone, or wander around the front line without anybody you knew with
you, without any of your men. I did not suppose that was such a great
experience; but nevertheless I was sent out the next day on a reconnaisance
like Paul was telling about, and believe me, I never envied Paul the job of
reconnaissance after that.
The reason for Paul going on these reconnaissances was on account of the
great faith that Major Walsh had in him.
Later on we moved from this position in the day time by trucks near
Farmes-de-Madelaine. On this trip one of Paul's trucks for his platoon
was hit by a shell and burned up. He wished at that time, that after the
men were out of the trucks, shells would come along and blow the rest of
the trucks away. Having to move in trucks at the front was a dangerous
under taking, and especially in rainy and muddy weather.
"On Top of the World"
It was at this place that Paul and I rigged us up a shell hole by
enlarging it and salvaging blankets and shelter halves. We placed the
shelter halves over the shell hole to keep the rain out; then we crawled
into the hole and got between the blankets. Again the dutchmen started
their rough play. They sent over gas as well as high explosives. We
remained in the shell hole with our respirators on and tried to carry
on a conversation. I wish that I could repeat the conversation in the
way it sounded. Talk with a respirator on is a comical sound any way.
This gas kind of spoiled our rest the first part of the evening. The
gas finally cleared away and then it started to rain. Paul says: "What
do we care. We are sitting 'on top of the world' and rain cannot get
into our hole"; but it rained for a couple of hours and instead
of the rain coming through the top it seeped in through the bottom.
Again the dutchmen began to make things uncomfortable and sent more
gas over. We had to put on our respirators again. The shell hole filled
up with water and in order to be able to breathe we had to hold our
canisters up out of the water. Not being able to stay in the shell
hole any longer we spent the rest of the night leaning against each
other in a standing position.
The Last Battle
It was two nights later that we were ordered, on the night of October 19th,
to assist a battalion of our 7th Infantry for attack on Hill 299 just beyond
Cunel. We started forward about twelve o'clock. We were going all the time
through artillery bombardment. We lost several men getting into position.
We finally reached the starting-off position about six o'clock in the
morning. We knew we were getting into a very tight place and during the
hour between six and seven we spent the time at rest, and to see Paul going
from man to man cheering them and telling them to stay by, cheering everybody,
and joking with them, was a great sight. In this place we were also under
machine gun fire.
About seven o'clock the officers met with an Infantry officer to receive
our final instructions. We had just gathered around this officer to get
our instructions when a shell hit close by and the only man hurt was the
infantry officer who received shell shock. We therefore received no
instructions. The only thing that was left to do was to get what infantry
we could and what cooperation we could and start on the attack.
Lieut. Wood went to the left and I went to the right. Paul was stationed
on the left, but was not to move forward. It was at this time that Paul
put out of commission two machine guns and captured 15 prisoners.
Then Lieut. Wood was wounded. Paul, learning of this, offered and asked to
take Lieut. Wood's platoon because it was to move forward. In order to make
this movement Paul came to me to make plans. The Infantry, so far as we
were concerned, was of no further assistance. It was not cooperating with
us in any way; it had been practically annihilated.
We were in a path in these woods, Bois Claires Chenes, with our two
platoons, Paul and I, and we made our plans with the aid of a map.
Knowing that it was one of the biggest and most dangerous propositions
that we had ever undertaken, we were careful in our plans. While we were
still talking several of our men and several of the Infantry who were
still there were knocked out by this machine gun which was firing in a
flanked position into our woods.
After completing our plans Paul reached out with his hand and says:
"Good-bye". I grasped his hand and said: "Good bye, Paul.
Good luck and God speed. "Before we released one another's hands
Paul was hit, and fell at my feet. He had been struck in the left temple
by a machine gun bullet. The bullet had passed through and out the right
temple. I knelt by Paul's side and saw that there was nothing I could do
for him; but I wish to say that I did utter a prayer at that time.
Thus one of the best friends I ever had, one of the best comrades, one
of the bravest officers that ever wore a uniform, and one of the most
cheerful men under all conditions, was tak en from me. I wish that I were
only able to give a more thorough understanding of what Paul had gone
through and what he meant to his men and to the officers of his company.
From that on through the rest of the day the men of the company and the
officers of the company fought only with the idea for the revenge of
Paul's death. The men would be heard saying "This for Lieut.
Funkhouser", and down would go a dutchman. Capt. Cook to my own
knowledge, got three dutch men and each time he said: "This for
you, 'Funk'." This, in a way, may convey a partial understanding
of the real respect and great love that we all have for Paul.
Memo:
Major Taylor, after the action at Chateau-Thierry, disappeared from
the lines. Captain Mendenhall was made a Major about July 30, 1918,
and was given command of a battalion of the 30th Infantry. He was
wounded by machine gun fire in the Argonne. Captain Cook followed
Captain Mendenhall as C. 0. of "B" Company, and was wounded
October 20, 1918. For gal lantry in this action Captain Cook was
awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. Lieut. Goddard was killed
in action by shell June 1, 1918. Lieut. J. H. Ransdell was transferred
to M. P.'s about 20th day of August, 1918. Lieut. Montgomery was
transferred to 9th Machine Gun Bn. about August 20, 1918. Lieut.
Funkhouser was killed in action October 20, 1918, near Cunel. Lieut.
Cobbey was decorated with Croix de Geurre, for bravery at Chateau-Thierry;
was wounded October 20, 1918, near Cunel, promoted to 1st Lieutenant
November 11, 1918, and discharged January 9, 1919. Lieut. Hanus was
made Battalion Adjutant.
Source:
Funkhouser Memorial
c. 1920
pp. 114-136
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©2000
Christopher D. Myers
All Rights Reserved
September 14, 2000
