Benney was, we believe, the dirtiest village we have been in to date, so consequently the next day we had to clean up the manure piles and refuse left by the populace of this village. The village had, at one time, been occupied by the Hun armies, who left their customary destructive earmarks upon it. Those who remain consist mainly of women, children and men too old for work. It can therefore be easily understood why its streets were dirty and conditions in general were neglected.
We spent four days in the village, our duties being to clean up the streets. We had become quite proficient with shovels and push-brooms, by reason of previous experience, and strangely enough the men usually chose this duty in preference to the daily duties of kitchen police and guard. Most of us were badly in need of a bath, as all soldiers generally are, and upon investigating discovered an old swimming hole which we soon Americanized by taking a plunge every day during our short stay there. We were entertained two evenings by the French movies while here.
It was evident to us that a large troop movement was taking place, and from the many precautions taken to avoid observation, it appeared that the movement was of more than usual importance. Troops were marched only at night and no lights of any kind were permitted, even smoking being barred outside of cover. Kitchens were covered and mess lines were being divided into sections so that Boche planes could see but a few men at a time. We were told that we must get under cover and stay there whenever hostile planes were about. No drilling was done and every effort made to keep every evidence of the presence of troops hidden from observation. All this could mean but one thing--a big attack was being prepared and we would undoubtedly be in it. We were curious to know just when and where it would be, but we had to be content with guessing, for the secret of the St. Mihiel drive was well kept.
Leaving Benney, we hiked a distance of 13 kilos to a little village called Haussonville, arriving there at 3:30 A. M. We had a very sloppy march and passed our kitchen truck, stuck in the ditch by the roadside. Of all trucks, this should have been the one to pull through, judging by the yearning in the region of our stomachs. Immediately upon our arrival in Haussonville we were billeted in a large barn and "hit the hay" for a few hours. We were soon awakened by the glad news that our kitchen had arrived, was in action and that we would have breakfast at 10. The name Haussonville stands out prominently in the minds of the boys, for we recall, with a shudder, that this is where we caught our first real batch of cooties.
