143: The Meuse-Argonne Offensive (pt.2) – Breaking the Kriemhilde Line 59:02

I'm an educator, and I'm also a parent. As with any parent, you want to empower your children with knowledge and support them so they can succeed, now and in the future. But each of my kids are different, and they each learn in different ways.

One option for parents is K-12. K-12 powered schools are accredited, tuition-free, online public schools for students in kindergarten through 12th grade. K-12 can help your child reach their full potential and give you the support you need to get them there. K-12 is designed to help your child learn at their own pace, in their own place, with an engaging curriculum that supports individual learning styles.

This is different from homeschooling, where you are responsible for teaching them. K-12 powered schools have state certified teachers specifically trained in teaching online. They use hands-on innovative technology to make learning interactive.

K-12 powered schools even offer social opportunities, extracurricular activities, and in-person events. And K-12 has more than 20 years experience helping students gain the skills they need to thrive in the future. So join the more than 2 million families who have chosen K-12 and empower your student to reach their full potential now. Go to k12.com slash HTDS today to learn more and find a tuition-free K-12 powered school near you.

near you. That's the letter K, the number 12.com slash HTDS. K12.com slash HTDS. It's just past 6 a.m. on a cold, misty morning, October 8th, 1918. We're with the doughboys of the U.S. 82nd Division's 328th Infantry as they battle their way westward through the thick trees and rough terrain of the Argonne Forest. And I don't say battle lightly.

the germans are putting up a fierce fight right now the 328th is on hill 223 a position they managed to take last night but before them the triangular shaped air valley is filled with death german shells are dropping like yesterday's rain while german machine guns seem to be mowing down every brown clad yankee in the first platoon good god if these americans are going to survive let alone have any success they're going to have to take out these machine gun nests

The task falls to G company and amid the battle's chaos, Sergeant Bernard Early is ordered to slip off on the left and flank these gunners. The sergeant gathers 16 men, three corporals and 13 privates, and together they stealthily move through the thick brush. The hope is that they can sneak around the German machine gun nests and capture them from behind. It seems to be working. They make it through the brush and ascend a tree-covered ridge without being noticed.

Here, the 17 doughboys begin to debate their next move when they see two Germans passing through the woods. Noting their foes' Red Cross bands, the Yankees hold their fire, instead ordering them to stop, but both refuse. A doughboy then fires, after which the whole detachment pursues. The two terrified Germans get away, but as the Yanks continue down another ridge, they soon stumble upon a small cabin-like structure. It's a command post. Dozens of Germans are here.

Stretcher bearers, officers, military men of all stripes, not one of them is armed. Bernard and his men emerge from hiding, rifles drawn, ready to take the whole group captive. With little choice, the Germans yell out, Kamerad! and quickly comply. But just as the Yanks have their prisoners lined up, an observant Bolshev machine gun nest opens fire. Six bullets rip through Sergeant Bernard early. Two corporals and six privates go down too, as do several German POWs.

The survivors, American and German alike, dash for cover. This includes the lone surviving American corporal, a fair-featured, freckled, lanky Tennessean, Corporal Alvin York. Nothing about Alvin's hiding place is intentional. He dived for safety like everyone else. But by coincidence of where he was standing when the gunners opened fire, the corporal finds himself somewhat removed from the rest of his detachment on a hill not far from that sad-looking command post.

His position offers him protection and better yet, none of those German gunners can fire on him without exposing themselves in the process. And this is when Alvin's childhood days of hunting wild turkeys in the woods of Tennessee pay off. With German machine guns still firing, Alvin lies down in the prone position, aims his rifle and pulls the trigger. A German gunner drops dead. The Tennessean pulls back the bolt on his rifle, ejects the spent case and again takes aim and fires.

He does this again and again and again, using up several clips and eventually rising to a kneeling position. He doesn't dare let up, knowing that the minute he does, the German bullet will end him. Suddenly, six bayonet-bearing Germans, perhaps 25 yards out, come running down the hill at Alvin. It's here that his hunter instincts truly kick in, leading him to fire at the most distant of his assailants first.

as the Tennessean will later write in his diary and in his own local dialect, no less. I teched off the sixth man first, then the fifth, then the fourth, then the third, and so on. That's the way we shoot wild turkeys at home. You see, we don't want the front ones to know that we're getting the back ones, and then they keep on coming until we get them all.

Of course, I hadn't time to think of that. I guess I just naturally did it. I know, too, that if the front ones wavered or if I stopped them, the rear ones would drop down and pump a volley into me and get me. But with his five-round clip half spent before these Germans even began their charge, Alvin has no time to reload as the front few close in. Again, instinct seems to drive him. He drops his empty rifle, grabs his .45 Colt, and manages to shoot every single one of them.

He then picks up his rifle and continues shooting machine gunners. One of the German POWs, a lieutenant that Alvin mistakes as a major and who speaks excellent English thanks to his years working in Chicago before the war, calls out to the Tennessean. English? No, not English. What? American. Good Lord. The officer is stunned. The Brits are known for their highly trained sharpshooters, but how is this rookie doughboy such a gifted marksman?

No matter. He's deadly. Nothing else matters right now. The lieutenant calls out, "If you won't shoot anymore, I will make them give up." Alvin agrees, and the German lieutenant blows a whistle. Nearly a hundred Boche soldiers come forward, dropping their guns. One decides to throw a grenade at Alvin. He misses, but Alvin doesn't. As he'll later recall, "I had to take him off." Point made.

No one else tries anything or complains as Alvin makes them carry out the nine American dead and wounded. These hundred or so Germans are now his prisoners. The German lieutenant tells Alvin that the way back to the American line is down a gully. No, Alvin might not know these French woods, but he knows mountains and forests.

His sense of direction tells him the man is lying. Thrusting his colt into the lieutenant's back, the Tennessean and his seven fellow healthy doughboys march off with their massive train of captive Germans. They'll pick up yet more prisoners and American escorts as they make their way back to division headquarters in the village of Châtel-Cherry. After delivering his prisoners, Alvin York returns to the 328th.

The regiment's commanding general greets him, exclaiming, Well, York, I hear you've captured the whole damn German army. The Tennessean will later recall his answer. I told him I only had 132. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. History That Doesn't Suck

It's impossible to say how many Germans Alvin York sent to the grave in the Argonne Forest that early October morning. Some say it was 28. Conservative estimates go as low as 15. Regardless of the exact figure, Alvin's guns were the quick and the Germans were the dead. He silenced 35 Bosch machine guns and, as we know, took 132 prisoners. The Tennessean will soon receive the Medal of Honor and become a veritable celebrity back in the States.

Quite a curious twist for a God-fearing man who had previously been a conscientious objector to the war. But that's the story of Alvin York. Alvin's is but one of many tales worth telling as we come to our second episode on the Musa Algon offensive.

No one else is going to come across like a Hollywood action hero. But today, as we push almost but not quite to the end of this, the biggest campaign that the U.S. Army has yet fought, we'll see American forces push forward with the same Alvin York spirit and grit as they try to crack the thick, layered, and crucial German fortifications known as the Krimhilde Line.

But as the Yanks make this push, their advancements, coupled with those of their allies on other battlefields, will make German leaders realize that this war is not only coming to its end, as the Bosch already know, but that they can't drag this out. It's time to come to the negotiation table. It's a winding path getting to this breaking point. On our way today, we'll again join flying ace Eddie Rickenbacker in the skies.

See an enormous reorganization of the American Expeditionary Force, or AEF. Witness yet another shouting match between General Black Jack Pershing and Allied Supreme Commander Ferdinand Foch. Visit General Douglas MacArthur at one of his hardest, most heroic, yet devastating moments in this war. And listen in as some Native American doughboys become the first code talkers. That's right, well before World War II.

In the end, we'll see if the Americans can turn last episode's frustrations and failures into victories. So much to do, so little time. So let's get to it, starting with a reminder of what the Musa-Gon American sector looks like in early October. Here we go. So, the Musa-Gon American sector. Let's get a quick refresher on the Doughboy's situation as we pick up in this part two episode. First, the lay of the land.

I'll remind you that the U.S. First Army occupies a roughly east-west, several miles long line facing a northward fight against a veritable quote-unquote natural fortress. On its eastern, or right side, is the Meuse River, and this area is manned by General Robert Bullard's III Corps.

In the center, General George Cameron's V Corps has faced huge casualties and demonstrated a disturbing amount of inexperience in taking the German fortification of Montfaucon. On the left, or western side, is Balding, Rotund, and mustachioed General Hunter Liggett's I Corps. All three corps have seen heavy losses as they've pushed through the first two of four major German defensive positions here.

Yet, for all the doughboy blood spilt, their efforts to puncture the Germans' third major defensive position in the Meuse-Argonne, that is, the most southern part of the official Hindenburg Line, called the Krimhilde Line, have resulted in nothing but failure.

Nevertheless, the Allied war effort is progressing as Allied Supreme Commander Ferdinand Fauché's "Tout le monde à la bataille" philosophy, that is, "everyone to battle", has the Germans stretched thin as the British Third and Fourth Armies join the French First Army in a combined offensive to take the northern French city of Cambray on October 8th, 1918.

This battle is hard won, but its success over the next few days will soon allow this Franco-British force to keep pushing and retake Valenciennes, Le Cateau, and Vassigny. October 8th is proving to be a good day for the Americans in the Meuse-Argonne offensive as well.

As we know from the last episode and today's opening, this is the same day that, on the American left, General Hunter Liggett's 1st Corps rescues Major Charles Whittlesey's lost battalion, and that Alvin York proves himself the fastest gun in the Argonne Forest as the 82nd Division continues its advance. Meanwhile, Robert Bullard's 3rd Corps on the American right is also advancing,

Despite a back and forth, taking then losing the Bois de Chaume, the 29th and 33rd Divisions pretty much obliterate the entire Austrian 1st Division in the process. This, in turn, forces the Germans to fill the position with some of their best but last available troops in the region. As German General Max von Gallwitz later puts it: "The situation was serious. There were no reserves available worth mentioning."

Blackjack can smell success as the German lines are weakening. And yet, the daunting Kringhilde line is still holding. And breaking through is going to require a lot more doughboys to yet make the ultimate sacrifice. Doughboys are hurting across the American sector. On the right, 3rd Corps' 4th and 80th Divisions are barely hanging on. But Corps Commander, Major General Robert Bullard is having none of it.

When 4th Division Commander Major General John Hines asks that his worn-down men be relieved from the horrors of Bois de Feuille, Robert doesn't give a second thought before answering, No, we've got to stay there. We give up nothing. It's a similar tale in the center, where General Blackjack Pershing is moving the line dividing 5th Corps and 1st Corps.

Sick of V Corps' failure to take the heights of Romagne, he's hoping that shifting the 1st Division, aka the Big Red One, from 1st to V Corps will make the difference. But alas, even the doughboys of the legendary Big Red One are too wiped and worn to overpower this stronghold. By the end of this October 4th to 11th action, the division will see 7,500 casualties, including 1,800 dead.

It's the bloodiest, deadliest sacrifice of any U.S. division in the entire campaign. Meanwhile, as the sun sets on October 9th, I Corps' exhausted doughboys holding the Argonne forest on the American left have pushed their way to the brink of the Krimhilderlein, but it's cost them dearly. If you recall the German machine-gun-laden valley Corporal Alvin York fought in yesterday, I'm sure that isn't hard for you to imagine.

Speaking of Alvin, he's wracked with guilt over yesterday, even if it's now making him a hero. He asks two stretcher bears to lead him back to that same hill in the Argonne. He later writes this of his return visit. I just couldn't help thinking of the boys that only the day before was alive and like me. I would never see them again. I would never share the same blanket with Corporal Savage. We'd never read the Bible together again.

Yes. As the day ends, Alvin and countless others mourn the slaughter all around them. Of course, tomorrow will only mean more fighting in the Meuse-Argonne.

and not all of it is on the ground. It's a little after 3:30 p.m., October 10th, 1918. 15 Allied biplanes, all SPADs, are soaring in formation through the air of northeastern France toward Dunsville News. Pilot Wilbur White leads the eight aircraft from the 147th Squadron flying on the left. Meanwhile, the other seven planes, all of which hail from the 27th, are led by a flyboy whom we know quite well from past episodes.

ace pilot Eddie Rickenbacker. Together, these pilots are on a secret mission to take out two German balloons. The first is at Dunn, the second is at Encreville. Keeping this covert won't be easy given the perfectly blue cloudless sky this afternoon, but no matter, that's the job. Yet, as they cut across this crystal clear sky, Eddie sees other aircraft in the distance.

And as these planes approach, it becomes clear that they are two formations of German Fokkers flying right at them. Getting closer still, Eddie takes note of the red noses on their foes' planes. That means these aren't just any old German pilots. This is the von Richthofen Circus. That's right. The Red Baron might be dead, but his flying circus most certainly isn't.

Currently flying high above the other Americans, Eddie lets the Germans pass, then dives down on the last aircraft in the Fokker formation. It's an easy shot, but Eddie's still surprised when the plane explodes in flames. But then, the Bosch flyboy does something truly curious. He jumps with a rope attached to him. Suddenly, a parachute emerges from the blazing craft, allowing the German to float safely to the ground. Eddie's filled with admiration.

He'll later opine and wonder why the United States doesn't do the same to save the lives of American pilots. Eddie turns from the spectacle to see 10 Fokkers moving in on the 147th's eight spads. The lead Fokker is hot on the tail of the last spot. But Wilbur White sees this too. Unwilling to let his man get picked off, Wilbur acts fast, pulling himself up in a half turn, followed by a hard right toward the German plane.

The 147th leader then makes the ultimate sacrifice. With both aircraft moving at more than 250 miles per hour, Wilbur crashes into the Fokker head on. Eddie will later recall, the two machines actually telescoped each other. Wings went through wings, and at first glance, both the Fokker and Spod seemed to disintegrate

Then the two broken fuselages bound together by the terrific collision fell swiftly down and landed in one heap on the bank of the Meuse. This mission will cost more than one American life and ultimately fail to destroy the observation balloons. But more than anything, it's Wilbur's death, selfless as it was, that will haunt Eddie, revisiting him in his nightmares.

particularly since this was supposed to be Wilbur's last flight before heading back to the States on leave to visit his wife and two small children. By the end of October 10th, the Germans have effectively been pushed out of the Argonne Forest and run out of reservists. Still, the battered and dented Krimhilderlein holds. Indeed, the most notable changes for the Americans around this time aren't on the front lines, but behind them.

See, as more and more ill-trained doughboys arrive from the States, General Black Jack Pershing is realizing that this army, this battle, is too big for him to lead on his own. This war has turned his hair gray, wrinkled his face, and the Musa Gon is no small part of that. An officer writes about the general, "...the strain was too great. The last battle has overloaded him."

Blackjack agrees, writing, I feel like I am carrying the whole world on my shoulders. He never lets the doughboys see this as he rides past them in his car, sitting upright with a stoic expression. Well, almost never. At one point, as this hellish nightmare eats up young American boys under his command, an aide sees Blackjack collapse into the backseat of the vehicle, sobbing.

Burying his face in his hands, the widower commander calls out to his beloved wife, who burned to death along with their daughters back in episode 133. Blackjack sobs, "Frankie! Frankie! My god! Sometimes I don't know how I could go on!" Fortunately for our collapsing commander, he's realizing that he needs help.

that he can't keep one eye on the big picture with allied leaders like Supreme Commander Ferdinand Foch, command the entire two million man American Expeditionary Force that is the AEF, as well as directly command the more than half a million of those men that constitute the US First Army. Good God, no wonder blackjack is breaking. It's just too much.

He's wanted to form a second US Army since September's Battle of Saint-Miel, but now it's time to make that happen in a major reorganization of the American forces in France. And with that in mind, Blackjack needs to hold some serious conversations. It's the evening of October 10th, 1918. The rotund, bald, mustachioed, 61-year-old Major General Hunter Liggett is sitting in his headquarters in an old French dugout in the tiny village of Floremont.

You might expect this to be a grandiose space considering that Hunter is the commander of First Corps, but you'd be wrong. As Hunter puts it, quote, "French dugouts put on no such airs as the German counterpart. These were merely holes in the hillsides, populated by rats as big as pack mules and as savage as tigers," close quote. Well, that's all right. A little humility never hurt a leader. Suddenly, a well-known Cadillac pulls up on the road outside.

The driver is Sergeant Caesar Santini. That's Black Jack Pershing's chauffeur. Making his way into Hunter Liggett's humble dugout, Black Jack cuts straight to the chase. He's naming Hunter the new commander of the First Army. Command of First Corps will now fall to General Joseph Dickman. Black Jack is likewise organizing a second army and elevating Third Corps Commander Robert Bullard as its commander. Further, both of them are being promoted to the rank of Lieutenant General.

"These changes," Blackjack explains, "will free him up to focus solely on the big picture as he presides over the whole AEF as commander of a group of armies." Blackjack looks happier, far more positive. Hunter is shocked to hear his upbeat prediction as Blackjack adds, "If we and our allies can keep up the gait, the war will be ended before the close of the year." The next day, Hunter Liggett gets a phone call.

He's surprised when he picks up to find that it's Commander Black Jack Pershing, and he wants advice. I wish to make changes in Corps commands. General Bullard is moving up, and I have other uses for General Cameron. Can you recommend men for the two vacancies? Ah, right. If Robert Bullard is commanding the Second Army, someone else has to command Third Corps.

As for General George Cameron, well, saying he has other uses is Blackjack's polite way of saying he's demoting the American Center's 5th Corps commander to a command over the 4th Division. All that said, who should lead 3rd and 5th Corps? Hunter asks for an hour to think it over. He then gets back on the phone with Blackjack and gives three names. Charles Summerall, James Harbord, and James McAndrew.

Well, James Harbord, as we know from past episodes, is head of services of supply, so he can't leave. And James McAndrew is Blackjack's chief of staff, so he's got to stay too. Blackjack responds, "The picking seem to be rather slim, don't they?" Ouch, is that a joke, Blackjack? I guess you are feeling a little better. Well, Blackjack agrees on Charles Summerall for fifth corps. Meanwhile, dough-faced John Hines will take over Robert Bullard's third corps.

So, now presiding over two armies and out of the details, Blackjack can finally focus on the big picture. But is that really a good thing? After all, it does mean continuing to work with French leadership. And as Blackjack has learned, the Germans might shoot at his doughboys on the front, but it's the leaders of France who will stab him in the back. This message is sponsored by Greenlight.

I've been telling you about summer vacationing with my family and how we've been using Greenlight with the kids to establish their own spending money on these trips. But now, summer is winding down while the school year is quickly approaching. That means new school supplies and clothes. And once again, Greenlight provides another great opportunity for our kids to learn about managing their personal finances.

Greenlight is a debit card and money app made for families. Parents can send money to their kids and keep an eye on their kids' spending and saving. We really like the chores feature of Greenlight. Parents set up one-time or recurring chores and reward their children with allowance for a job well done. Millions of parents and kids are learning about money on Greenlight. It's the easy, convenient way for parents to raise financially smart kids and families to navigate summer vacation and new school year together.

Sign up for Greenlight today and get your first month free when you go to greenlight.com slash htds. That's greenlight.com slash htds to try Greenlight for free. greenlight.com slash htds.

Get started with Greenlight today and get your first month free at greenlight.com slash Spotify.

Ever since his visit to the Musorgone American sector on September 29th, 1918, France's forceful, husky, walrus mustache-wearing prime minister, Georges the Tiger Clemenceau, has kind of had it in for AEF commander, General Blackjack Pershing. We got a taste of this in the last episode, but I'll remind you briefly that the prime minister believes Blackjack to be incompetent and desperately wants to get the American out of command.

Georges likely leaned on Allied Supreme Commander Ferdinand Fauche, who, in turn, sent his chief of staff, Maxime Weygand, to speak with Blackjack on October 3rd. In that meeting, Maxime told him that the Musaigon American sector would be cut down in size by transferring elements of the U.S. First Army to the French Second Army. Blackjack answers with a hard no. Frankly, the Missouri-born AEF commander was flabbergasted.

From the talk of amalgamation that dominated his first year in France, to Ferdinand Fauche's attempt back on August 30th to kill the then-upcoming Samuel Le Tac, all while placing doughboys under French leadership, no less. Blackjack can't understand how some of the French fail to grasp where their authority ends, and that no means no.

Indeed, reflecting on that August 30th confrontation, Blackjack felt he was plenty clear, writing, I thought the matter settled once and for all. But it's not settled at all. Not even as we approach mid-October. Georges the Tiger Clemenceau doesn't give up on his prey that easily. Still convinced that Blackjack is to blame for the slow pace of events in the Meuse-Argonne, Georges approaches American emissary, Colonel Edward House, and tells him of the sorry conditions of the American army.

Nor does the Tiger let up in his efforts to get Marshal Ferdinand Fauche to push out Blackjack. As rumors of Georges Clemenceau's efforts on this issue circulate, Blackjack fumes that, quote, Clemenceau has been granted no authority to issue directions to the Allied commander-in-chief, close quote. And it's hard not to believe that Ferdinand is giving ear to Georges. On October 12th, Ferdinand Fauche again sends his chief of staff, Maxime Degon, to see Blackjack.

This time, Maxime presents a plan to place the US First Army under French command while placing the American general in charge of a quiet sector. Wow. First off, this isn't Ferdinand's call. And second, this only days after Blackjack promoted Hunter Liggett over the First Army amid his reorganization? Good night. Again, this is a hard no. Rejected, Maxime storms out while Blackjack fumes. The American commander has had enough of this overreach.

Tomorrow, he's going to confront the Marshal face to face. It's an unspecified time, likely late afternoon, Sunday, October 13th, 1918. Blackjack marches like a man on a mission as he makes his way through the stately and elegant 17th century white stone and red brick castle, serving as Allied Supreme Commander Ferdinand Fauche's headquarters, the Chateau de Bonbon.

Entering an ornate drawing room furnished with a large table and numerous maps, the American commander stands tall with a flash in his sharp blue eyes. Ferdinand's loyal chief of staff, Maxime Weygand, takes notice. This doesn't look like the same blackjack he tried to demote yesterday. Something's different. There's a fierceness about him. Ferdinand better stay on guard. He does. Opening with a misdirect, Ferdinand brings up rumors of the Germans engaging President Woodrow Wilson in possible peace talks.

This is in fact the case, but there's little to say here presently. So the Frenchman pivots, putting Blackjack on the defense, asking, "'How are matters progressing on the American front?' Blackjack answers by speaking to the hard fighting and stiff German resistance. The Marshal, however, isn't having it. Ferdinand parries, "'On all other parts of the front, the advances are very marked. The Americans are not progressing as rapidly.'

Calmly, Blackjack explains, That sets off an argument. Blackjack points out he's beaten down 26 German divisions.

Ferdinand doubts his numbers, and so the American fires back. The Germans could hold up any troops Marshal Foch has at his command. I only judge by results. That does it. Blackjack breaks his cool and snaps back. Nothing any French general could say will put more goodwill, energy, or coordination into our operations.

I've done all of my power, as have the officers under me. If an attack is well planned and executed, it succeeds with small losses. If not, the losses are heavy and there is no advance. True, only to a certain extent. Much depends upon what your enemy does. Why bring all this up? I am speaking of conditions that actually exist on my front. No other troops could overcome them. I would like to call your particular attention to the terrain.

The two men argue back and forth, rehashing their long-standing disputes. Finally, Ferdinand sighs and says, Well, it is a matter of no consequence now. The only thing that matters is results. General Maxime Weygand now sees his opportunity to diffuse the situation. He steps forward with papers in hand. Here is General Pershing's plan for the formation of two armies.

Without giving them a look, Ferdinand responds, Ah, yes, I am inclined to grant your request. But Blackjack isn't done. Given Ferdinand's blessing of his AEF reorganization, Blackjack points to his command of more than one army and states his expectation that Ferdinand will now treat him as a full equal to the other major Allied commanders-in-chief of national armies, France's General Philippe Hétain and Britain's Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig.

Ah, Ferdinand is trapped in his own words. He begrudgingly agrees. A solid political victory for the American commander. And yet, Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau will continue to try to get Blackjack sacked in the next few weeks. Nothing to fear on that point, though. Ferdinand Fauche will later say of the Tigers' continuing efforts, "...I took absolutely no notice of it whatever."

Furthermore, when word of the prime minister's machinations reaches Secretary of War Newton Baker, he scoffs, saying, it will be a long time before any American commander would be removed by any European premier. So Blackjack isn't going anywhere other than back to trying to break that obstinate Krimhilder line.

But briefly, before we return to that offensive, let's pause and take stock of Blackjack's reorganization that, for the most part, went into effect just yesterday, October 12th, 1918. First off, the American commander now has two armies, the U.S. 1st, led by General Hunter Liggett, and the U.S. 2nd, led by Robert Bullard. The 2nd's headquarters is in Toul, perhaps 70 miles southeast of the action we've been following, and its forces include two French corps.

Meanwhile, Hunter's First Army contains the three corps we've been with this whole Meuse-Argonne campaign. All three are still situated as First Corps on the left, Fifth Corps in the center, and Third Corps on the right. Many of these troops are fresh arrivals, getting their baptism by fire amid ugly, deadly fighting, often for territory that isn't long held.

Nowhere is that more obvious than in the American center with 5th Corps' 29th Division, as Captain William Redden leads B Company's 200 fresh-faced New Jersey doughboys into a barbed wire-ridden ravine on October 13, 1918. Far from the soft experience the French soldiers guiding them promised, these rookie Yankees are greeted by fierce German counterattacks.

German rifles, grenades, and shells all do their dirty work as William's boys do their best to cut barbed wire and valiantly put to use the training they received back in the States. But as they fight, neither American artillery nor other supporting troops, be that fellow Yankees or French, come to their aid. Yeah, some shades of Major Charlie Whittlesey's experience in the last episode. As the sun sets, Captain William Redden corrals his troops and counts them up.

Of the 200 who were with him that morning, he's down to 13. Good God. William later describes the sick feeling he has in this moment. I've never felt more alone at any time in my life. What happened to me from then on was of no consequence. Death or wounds could not have been worse. In fact, death would have been a relief. Picture if you can, that terrible ravine, full of our own buddies, wounded, dying, and dead.

Many long, weary months had been spent in training these men, so that when they went into battle, they would at least have an even chance for their lives. Now, all to be seen was death and desolation, and to hear the awful cries of the wounded, for whom we could do nothing. The captain loses it at this moment. He charges back into the ravine, attacking while shouting about the lunacy of the officers who got his men killed, officers who perhaps deserved death themselves.

The 13 remaining doughboys grab hold of their psychologically broken captain, pulling him, kicking and screaming back to safety. William will never be the same. The screams and moans of his dying boys in that ravine will haunt him for the rest of his life. And yet, the living hell of the Musargon Offensive continues. What else can be done?

Although Kaiser Wilhelm II and Germany's real leaders, Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg and General Erich Ludendorff, decided to pursue peace with Woodrow Wilson back on September 29th, they did so hoping that the American president was still interested in his old slogan, peace without victory. Well, he isn't. Too many dead doughboys now, but broken as they are. These German leaders aren't ready for unconditional surrender either, meaning Blackjack has to keep pushing.

He's got to break through that damnable Krimhilde line. Now in his final days before giving command of the U.S. 1st Army to General Hunter Liggett on October 16th, Blackjack draws up an attack focused on the American center. While swapping out the exhausted 80th and 1st Divisions for the seasoned 42nd Rainbow Division and 5th Corps, the American commander also assigns the 5th Division to 3rd Corps on the American right.

This is intentional. Blackjack wants them to move together in a giant pincer movement, known as a double envelopment between Saint-Georges and the Roman Heights. He hopes that in doing so, they'll finally break the Krimhilde line. It's a bold move, one he plans to put in motion almost immediately on October 14th. And he'll have to rely on both his newly promoted and his best officers.

It's late at night, October 13th, perhaps the early hours of October 14th, 1918. Square-jawed, 38-year-old Brigadier General commanding Rainbow Division's 84th Brigade, Douglas MacArthur, is at a farm now serving as his headquarters, located just east of Ex-Imol and just two miles from the German lines. Perhaps he's dealing with the cold by wearing his trademark turtleneck sweater and purple muffler knitted by his mother. Perhaps not.

But however he's staying warm, Doug is studying maps and battle plans by candlelight as he worries about what the morning brings. This is when his brigade will attack Côte de Chatillon. It's a German stronghold within difficult terrain that Doug describes as, quote, rolling hills, heavily wooded valleys of death between the endless folds of ridges, close quote. He's so concerned that he even admitted to Rainbow Division Commander General Charles Minoher that the 84th success here is...

Not certain. Worse still, the relatively young Brigadier General still hasn't fully recovered his own health after a recent gas attack. He's yet to make it a full day without vomiting. In short, the only thing certain about what comes in the morning is a high body count. Suddenly, the door to the command post opens. Through it steps 5th Corps' effective commander, as he will officially take the role in a matter of days. Stone-faced and clean-shaven, General Charles Summerall.

Even in such a dimly lit room, Douglas MacArthur can see that the general is tired and worn. As he'll later recall, he makes the commander a cup of quote, "Steaming black coffee, strong enough to blister the throat," close quote. Charles takes a sip, letting the hot bitter brew burn its way through his throat to warm his body. That does the trick. Pushing through his strained voice, the corps commander says sternly, "Give me Chateaune, MacArthur.

"Give me Chatillon or a list of 5,000 casualties." Doug is startled by the General's abruptness, as well as his ultimatum to take Chatillon or sacrifice the entire brigade trying. Yet, the 84th Brigade Commander answers, "All right, General, we'll take it or my name will head the list." Run ragged by this war and even worse by this campaign, Charles can't help the tears that form in his eyes at this moment. He knows that Doug means what he says.

that he's ready to sacrifice his own life, not just the lives of the doughboys he commands. Charles Summerall says nothing more, sharing a knowing glance with Doug. The uncharacteristically teary 5th Corps commander simply rises and leaves. As for Doug, he turns back to his map and battle plans. Come morning, he's got a promise to fulfill, one way or the other.

While preparing to go into battle, the doughboys of the 42nd Rainbow Division's 84th Brigade hear of General Douglas MacArthur's willingness to accept 100% casualties in pursuit of victory. One soldier sarcastically responds, generous son of a bitch, ain't he? Yet, knowing that their commander truly will die beside them if it really comes to that, their confidence holds.

Meanwhile, Father Francis Duffy of the heavily Irish and Irish descent 165th Regiment, or the Fightin' 69th, as it's still known back in New York, says mass. The brave chaplain knows that it won't be long before he's on the battlefield, taking last confessions from Blanchface Doughboys, making peace with God. He risks his life more than a chaplain is expected to, but that devotion to his lads is precisely why they love and trust him.

Yet, as Douglas MacArthur's brigade and the rest of the Rainbow Division attack Côte de Chatillon on a rainy October 14th, the Brigadier General delivers neither the victory nor the casualty list that he promised. Despite furious fighting, the Germans use the high ground to their advantage on the attacking Americans.

While his 168th Iowa Regiment manages to take a foothold on Hill 288, the 83rd and 32nd Brigades to the left and right of Doug's 84th fail to advance, which in turn holds back his doughboys. Thus, Chatillon remains in German hands as the sun sets. The next day, October 15th, the 84th Brigade takes Hill 282 and presses around Hill 205 toward La Tuilerie Farm.

But small victories are not what any of the generals, from Douglas MacArthur to Charles Summerall to Black Jack Pershing himself, are looking for. But Black Jack sees surprising results in these hard days from 3rd Corps' 32nd Division. No one expected much from these Minnesotans, whose ranks are filled with fresh recruits replacing the many who fell at Soissons.

But not content to let the 42nd Rainbow and 5th Divisions do all the heavy lifting on this pincer movement, General William Hahn takes note of a gap in the Germans' barbed wire line and exploits it. As a result, the Krimhilde Line's crucial Cote d'Amarie falls to the Yanks. An elated blackjack declares, unstinted praise must be given the 32nd Division. That's right. They finally punched through this crucial piece of the Hindenburg Line.

Meanwhile, Douglas MacArthur is still struggling to manage that same accomplishment at Chatillon. As 5th Corps Commander Charles Summerall relieves the commander of the 83rd Brigade for his failures on the evening of October 15th, he also tells Doug that he wants Chatillon taken no matter what by 6pm tomorrow. The 84th Brigade commander renews his vow: victory or the death of his whole command and himself.

And he means it. Back at his headquarters briefly amid this fight, a reporter notices a fresh bullet hole in the left sleeve of Doug's beloved turtleneck sweater. When the reporter asks about it, the Brigadier General replies, "There are times when even general officers have to be expendable." Still, Doug knows he can't just charge at the Germans. There has to be a smarter way. And thanks to some new intelligence, he intends to find it tonight.

It's just after midnight in the early, still dark morning hours of October 16th, 1918. We're somewhere in the rough, hilly terrain of Côte de Chatillon as General Douglas MacArthur leads a reconnaissance group through the brush toward the Germans' barbed wire protected lines. Doug has heard reports of a gap in the wire and now he's hoping to find this weakness so that his men can exploit it with the sunrise. The doughboys crouch down as they slide through the grass and crawl through the mud.

Suddenly, German artillery comes blasting their way. Instinctively, the scattering Yankees dive into shell holes for cover as these instruments of death light up the otherwise blackened sky. Ah, and it's amid the flashes of light brought by the Germans' attack that he sees it. Doug sees the weak spot in the barbed wire. As the barrage ends, the general climbs out of his hole to find his troops and get them back to their lines. Quietly, he addresses one doughboy. The soldier doesn't respond.

Well, everyone's exhausted. Maybe he's asleep. Doug climbs into the shell hole and shakes the young man. And that's when he realizes the soldier isn't sleeping. The doughboy is dead. There's no time to think about it. Doug has to get the others out. He crawls to the next hole. Again, he calls out. He shakes and finds the man is dead. This repeats again and again. Other than himself, Doug soon realizes that every doughboy in his entire patrol is dead.

The stunned commander makes his way back to the American lines alone. How did he live when all those boys died? He can't make sense of it. The best he can do is leave it up to God. Speaking about this later, he'll simply say, "It was God. He led me by the hand, the way he led Joshua." That gap in the wire proves to be the ace these doughboys needed. The 84th Brigade exploits it hours later that same morning.

General Douglas MacArthur later summarizes this long and hard day of fighting in his reminiscences, writing, officers fell and sergeants leaped to the command. At the end, Major Ross had only 300 men and six officers left out of 1,450 men and 25 officers. That is the way Cote de Châtillon fell. And that is the way those gallant citizen soldiers so far from home won the approach to final victory.

A hard-fought victory indeed. Doug reports the capture of Côte de Châtillon and after almost four days without a wink of sleep, falls into a 16-hour slumber. The exhausted Brigadier General is recommended for promotion and the Distinguished Service Cross, but he'll never forget the heavy loss of life this victory cost his brigade and the larger Rainbow Division. Merely speaking of Châtillon will make this future World War II commander emotional for the rest of his life.

But as the casualties mount, the Americans have turned the tide. The daunting Crème-Hildelaine is cracked. As we know, the 32nd Division punched through at Côte d'Amarie on the American right. General Douglas MacArthur's doughboys have done so at Côte de Chatillon in the American center. And meanwhile, 1st Corps' 77th Division has taken a crucial placement at Grand Pré called Saint-Juvin on the American left.

All three of these objectives seemed impossible only a week ago. Meanwhile, the German army is feeling battered by the Americans' constant onslaught. Lieutenant Otto Leis of the German 29th Division writes about this time, saying, Weak, decimated infantry companies, utterly exhausted and spiritually spent, fought against freshly introduced American battalions and regiments. Ten fought against hundreds or more, our few hundreds against thousands from over there.

But still, that doesn't mean the Meuse-Argonne offensive is over. Far from it, and during these same mid-October days leading to Hunter Liggett taking command of the U.S. First Army on the 16th, the newly promoted Lieutenant General is touring the front lines, talking and listening to troops and officers alike before returning to his headquarters to devise his plans. That's the kind of man that Hunter is. Slow, deliberate, and methodical. Emblematic of this is how the General occupies his mind at the start of battles.

by playing solitaire. That's right, as a commander, he can't do much at that point apart from wait for news on how his plans are playing out. So, he occupies his mind with the card game. Come October 17th, Hunter makes a big decision for his new command, the American First Army. Having studied its recent advancements and personally seeing how exhausted the troops are, the mustachioed Lieutenant General wants his army to simply hold its present line for now. General Black Jack Pershing doesn't love this.

He knows that the French, especially Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, are going to hate this. But Hunter has reached his limit with the AEF commander's interference. The First Army is his now, so Hunter Liggett tells Blackjack to, and I quote, "Go away and forget it." To his credit, Blackjack does exactly that. He returns to his central responsibilities as an administrator, politician, and diplomat, representing the Army to both the Supreme War Council and to Washington. Still,

Blackjack assigns his aid to keep tabs on Hunter. But even with their recent wins and current strong positions, the Yankees are facing a serious problem with their communications. The Germans have broken their radio codes, tapped their telephone lines, and are capturing one in four runners. The Americans need a reliable means of communication. Commanders will soon realize it's been hiding right under their noses. It's likely sometime in the afternoon, October 26th, 1918.

We're in Forstfellm, where Captain Elijah Witt Horn, currently in command of E Company, 2nd Battalion, 142nd Regiment, 36th Division, is surveying his position. And it doesn't look good. Word is that the Germans will attack soon, and worse, Elijah knows that they've cracked his codes. Just yesterday, he and his doughboys tested that theory by reporting a false location for an attack. And wouldn't you know it, the Germans blew that spot to smithereens right on schedule.

Man, they've got to figure out a way to communicate up the chain. If they don't, they're dead. But for now, all Elijah can do is pace about, thinking as he walks by his doughboys from Oklahoma and Texas, which, despite a prohibition against all native combat units, is nearly just that. More than over 200 of his troops are Native Americans, hailing from 14 different tribes, though mostly Choctaw and Cherokee. In fact, they're chatting in their native languages right now.

And that's when the pacing captain has an idea. Elijah calls down to Corporal Solomon Lewis. "Corporal, get out of that hole and come up here on the double." "Yes, sir." As Solomon ascends, the captain eagerly asks, "How many of you Indians talk the same language?"

Dusting himself quickly and giving a quick salute, the 19-year-old corporal answers, "We have eight men who speak fluent Choctaw in the battalion, sir. Are any of them over in headquarters company? I think Carterby and Maytubby are over there. You fellows wait right here." Elijah gets on a field telephone and calls his commanding officer, Colonel Alfred Bloor. It's soon confirmed. Yes, Ben Carterby and Pete Maytubby are both at headquarters.

"Thank God," the captain tells his commanding officer. "Get them and have them stand by. I've got an idea that just might get these heinies off our backs." Elijah then turns to Corporal Solomon Lewis and Private Mitchell Bob and tells them, "Look, I'm going to give you a message to call into headquarters. I want you to give them a message in your language. There will be somebody there who can understand it."

And so, the relay begins. Captain Elijah Horn speaks to Mitchell Bob in English. Mitchell then relays that message over the field telephone to Ben Carterby in Choctaw, who, in turn, translates the message back into English for Battalion Commander Major William Morrissey. The plan works perfectly. Once more able to coordinate their efforts, Captain Elijah Horn arranges artillery support for their coming attack. They've left the Germans at a complete loss.

Later on, one captured German commander, who clearly listened into some conversations, asks: "Wat nationality was dat on ze phones?" He receives a coy, simple response: "Only Americans." After this life-saving first call, there's hasty training to expand the use of Choctaw as a code. Meanwhile, Choctaw doughboys come up with ways to convey English military terms lacking an easy translation into their native language.

For instance, patrol becomes mini scouts, grenades are called stones, while casualties are scalps. It's brilliant. The Great War's code talkers won't become as well known as those of the next world war. The conflict ends before Choctaw can be put to extensive use. But all who work with these Choctaw doughboys come away respecting them deeply. Blackjack later writes about the contributions of the Choctaw and all Native Americans who fight in the war. Quote,

Indeed, as October closes, this costly total war that sent millions upon millions to their graves is coming to an end. But the Americans aren't letting up.

East of the Meuse River, General Robert Bollard has organized and prepared his 176,000-strong 2nd Army. No orders from Black Jack just yet. However, Hunter is ready to pounce, anticipating that his forces will move toward Metz. Meanwhile, the real thrust of the battle remains with Hunter Liggett's 1st Army, which is now more than 1 million strong, including over half a million infantry alone.

With the support of Billy Mitchell's quickly maturing air service, hunters now experienced doughboys are ready to move forward. Funny enough, they are now waiting on the French. The plan is to continue the Franco-American advance against the Germans on November 1st. As for the Boche, their soldiers are losing hope. Yet, as President Woodrow Wilson's demands and his back and forth with German leadership become tantamount to unconditional surrender,

A rejection of these terms written in the name of Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg, but likely the work of General Erich Ludendorff provokes outcry. Not only from some among the Allies who fear it's too much to ask, but from the war-weary German people. Erich has little choice but to resign. He does so on October 26th. Meanwhile, Germany's Allies are exiting the war.

The Bulgarians did so on September 29th. The Ottoman Empire ends its fight on October 30th. And as the Americans press their renewed attack on November 1st, the Austro-Hungarians are mere 48 hours from throwing in the towel as well. It's a grim situation for Kaiser Wilhelm II.

In fact, the same day that the Americans begin this last major drive of the Meuse-Argonne, a recently freed revolutionary in Germany, Karl Liebknecht, calls on workers, soldiers and sailors alike to rise up against the Kaiser.

He shouts at a gathered crowd. "For more than four years, our rulers have been engaged in a robber war for the oppression of our neighbors. Act at once. It is your only prospect. Stretch that tyrant at your feet with a mighty blow. He now wavers. A well-aimed blow will at this time win your freedom. Soldiers and Marines, fraternize. Take possession of your ships.

And as sailors in the German city of Kiel give heed, it appears that the German Empire isn't only facing the prospect of losing a war. It's facing the prospect of the fall of the Second Reich itself. So much depends on the diplomatic talks that will soon be held in a railroad car in the forest of Compiègne. But that is a story for another day.