Poet Sergeant Chester Westfield was one of hundreds of African Americans serving in World War I, but one of only a handful whose writing has been published and recognized. He served from 1917 to 1919 and saw active combat in France with the 368th Infantry. This poem is taken from the only known book of his poems, “The experiences of company “L,” 368th infantry,” 1919, Hemphill Press, Nashville, Tennessee
THE MEUSE-ARGONNE OFFENSIVE.
We thought of the front-line trench.
But all of us kept cool
Till we detrained along the Marne,
Near the city of St. Manould.
We were put off the road in a forest,
Hun airmen our troops could not see;
And happy, blithe, and hilarious.
We knocked apples off a tree.
From the forest early next morning,
On rough roads we hiked on still,
Till we leached some French artillery
Hid behind a rocky hill.
An order came to us that night
Which tried each brave man’s nerve:
“Your regiment will go up to-morrow
With Company L in reserve.”
We passed Vielle le Chateau,
And good entrenchments found
Oh a high and rugged hill
Above a shell-torn town.
On the hill we were determined,
And this was the officer’s plan:
To hold that hill from the Germans
At the price of death to each man.
On our advance the watchful airplanes
Soared o’er us with many a bombing flier.
On the ground were wire entanglements
And heavy machine gun fire.
At last, sometime that night.
We took over a front-line trench.
On our right were white Americans,
And on our left the suave French.
I looked around next morning
When machine gun shots I heard,
And saw they had wounded severely
My comrade, Corporal Baird.
We pushed them back over tangled wire,
Thru valley and over hill,
And ended our part of the Argonne drive
At the village of Binarville.
After many Huns we’d captured.
Wounded, or gassed and slain.
We bombarded their bridges which offered retreat
Across the River Aisne.
Many brave deeds were done there
By men who never knew fear.
Till the French and Italians relieved us.
Then triumphant we marched to the rear.