University of San Francisco - USF Don Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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CAPT. JOSEPH P. SULUPAX. U.S.A. 15 % time for attack was set. But my men were dug in. which means that they were in holes in the ground perpendicular to the axis of hostile fire. All through the night the hell continued. The Austrian 88’s (whiz-bangs, we call them), just cleared the slope and broke on the reverse side where we were. Frequently I would receive a clod of dirt in the face, which some Boche shell had sent living. Then when the hour of attack came, the battalion rose out of the hole and went for the Boche. Such a dav and such a night! Captain Sackett, a classmate, led the left support company of the regiment. As we rose, an increase in the Boche barrage was apparent, and Sackett dropped with twenty machine-gun bullets through him. My officers were wonderful. My men—too much cannot be said for them. Of course contact and control were difficult. and as we jumped from crater to crater we could preserve no formation. The ground was a succession of slopes, and over each one the Boche had complete mastery. The Boche had direct fire on us with artillery, and it was deadly. He enfiladed us from the flanks and from the left rear as we progressed, and when we reached our objective the battalion was reduced to 200 men under the command of a 1st Lieutenant. The Major was wounded. 1 was wounded, Capt. Ed. Leonard, Class of 1917, “K” Co. was dead, Capt. Mudge. “L” Co., and Capt. W ilhelm, “M’’ Co.; were wounded, while Lieutenants were strewn over the battlefield. Well, it’s all over now but the shouting, and I’m sick of war, of its havoc, its ruin and destruction. I want beaucoup peace and quiet, and they are sending me into Germany to get it. Sars, it's a funny world. Be good to yourself and take good care of Mother. Ever your loving brother. In the accompanying picture, we see Capt. Joe making-friends with a young lady of the family. The simple nar-

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14 THE IGXAT I AX realized will be admitted readily by all. But we will let him speak tor himself. The following letter is addressed to his brother, Thomas Whitfield Sullivan, a member of the St. Ignatius I nit, S. A. f. C. Another member of the Sullivan clan, James McG., belonged to the famous Base Hospital Xo. 47, so highly praised by the Surgeon-General lor efficient service: Sars, my noble brother: Yesterday Marshal Foch, Admiral Weymss, General Pershing and myself called the war off and so there isn’t any more guerre. So when the Boche delegation had departed. I said to Marshal Foch: “Where to, Marshal, old top. now that the war is fini, I am out of an occupation. Have you an opening for a bright young man?” And the Marshal, clever old man that he is. replied: “Why, yes, Sully, I have one, but close it behind you when you go through the door.” And so to-day, Sars-field. I find myself a member of the Army of Occupation, which the Allies are going to maintain in Prussia. I do not know whether to be glad or sorry that 1 was not on the front when the end came. I could not be there on account of my wound. If I had been there, the last shell of the last gun would have riddled me, I am sure. I’m sorry, for there must have been a wild celebration. The fighting where I was. was particularly hard. You know where the First American Army was operating Well, Sars, they threw the picked Prussian Guard divisions against us, they pounded us with artillery and machine-gun barrages till the very air seemed to be so filled with flying lead that there was not room for more. And they showered us with gas, so that our breathing apparatus became null and void. When my battalion went to the attack, we were war-strength. We had a Major and four Captains. I was Captain of “I” Co., and I was right support company of the battalion. The Boche barrage broke over us for eight hours before the

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16 THE IGXAT AX rative relates what may be called one of the really dramatic incidents of the war. Mother Dear: In October. 1918, at Romagne sous Montfaucon. an isolated “77 was picking off my men. We maneuvered and killed the Bosche gunner, and I took his name-tag. Last night I was billeted in this home, and Madam cleaned mv clothes. She came across the name-tag and said that it belonged to her son. She knew that he was dead, but she did not know that she was billeting under her roof the man who had killed her son. Mother, I had a strange feeling, but I had only done my duty. Affectionately, Joe.