90th DIVISION IN 3D CORPS RESERVE
AS soon as all units of the Division had arrived in the Blercourt area, the Division was transferred from
Army Reserve to 3rd Corps Reserve. This was on October 17. That night the 315th Engineers were
marched to the vicinity of the former site of the historic village of Malancourt to build a road under
orders of the corps.
The next night the 179th Brigade moved forward to bivouac in the Bois de Cuisy, just west of
Malancourt, taking advantage of such protection from aerial observation as the shattered trees and
tangled underbrush afforded. On the 19th the 179th Brigade filtered still further forward, the 357th
Infantry manning the 3d Corps main line of resistance from Nantillois to Drillancourt, and the 358th
Infantry the second line of resistance between Fayel Farm (on the eastern out-skirts of Montfaucon) and
Béthincourt. The brigade was thus in a position of readiness either to defend the position in case of a
German counterattack, or to relieve the American troops in the front line. This move into position was
one that will long be remembered. The positions of the two regiments had been indicated by red and
blue lines on a map. But to find these lines on the ground was a different story. Villages, woods, roads
– in fact, every conceivable landmark – had been virtually obliterated. The rain continued steadily and
a particularly vicious variety of mud weighted down the feet of the infantrymen and clogged the wheels
of the regimental trains. Scattering shell fire was incessant, a direct hit dropping on a rolling kitchen and
its tell-tale queue of soldiers lined up to receive their allowance of “slum.” More times than once in the
history of the Division enemy planes spotted this line of flashing mess kits, and sent a wireless flash to a
waiting battery, which, by means of the code coordinates of the map thus transmitted by electricity, was
able to locate and scatter the dinner party very effectually.
This same day headquarters of the Division moved to Cuisy. The desolation of this region defies
description. As for the ancient village of Cuisy itself – well, even Fey-en-Haye was a metropolis in
comparison. The only possible simile for the town might be a community of prairie-dog holes out on
the Llanu Estacado, for the Cuisy of buildings and streets and homes had ceased to exist, and in its place
was a scattered collection of dugouts. The underground shelters in this area had one peculiar virtue:
they were Boche and all faced the wrong way for American tenancy, so that a direct hit from a shell was
sure to find its way down the entrance passage into the dugout itself. To carry the prairie-dog figure of
speech still further, if the busy staff officers at Cuisy may be compared to that industrious rodent, further
likenesses may be found. It is well known that the prairie dog shares his hole with the rattlesnake.
While this Texas reptile is not known in France, the Division staff soon found that they were sharing
their bunks with equally unwelcome guests – a German breed of cooties, which had remained behind
when their former masters left this region in great haste.
But there is one point on which the comparison broke down: the Great Plain is dry, but all this area into
which the Division was now moving was a lake of mud, churned into slush by shell fire and traffic.
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