An American Crusader at Verdun
9781465649560
188 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
A citation in general orders, by the Commanding General of the 69th Division of Infantry of the French Army, which declares that Driver Philip S. Rice “has always set an example of the greatest courage and devotion in the most trying circumstances during the evacuation of wounded in the attacks of August and September, 1917, before Verdun,” ought to be sufficient introduction in itself to this story of an American Ambulance Driver who bore himself valiantly in those days of the great tragedy at Verdun. And yet for the story itself, and for the man who has written it, something can be said by one of his friends in appreciation of both the story and the man. The literature that is coming out, and which will come out, of the great war, will never cease as long as history shall recite the efforts of the German Spoiler to gain the mastery of the world, and fill the world with hate and hunger. Therefore, every bit of evidence that shall touch even so lightly on every phase of the conditions, and reveal even in the slightest sense a picture of what happened, will have its value. Of Mr. Rice, I can say that as a youngster the spirit of adventure was strong in him. He tried his best to break into the War with Spain in 1898, but his weight and heart action compelled his rejection by the surgeons. He later, however, served with credit under my command, as an enlisted man, and as an officer of the Ninth Infantry, National Guard of Pennsylvania. When the United States entered the conflict on the side of the Entente Allies in the present war, Mr. Rice, knowing that he could not gain a place in the fighting forces, volunteered for service in the American Ambulance Corps in France. Herein is written the story of that service simply told, without vainglory or boasting. It is a story of a soldier’s work—for it was as a soldier he served. Simply told, yes; but well told. For instance, the recital of the story of that evening of July 13, in the after dusk, when the guns had silenced forever the voice of his comrade, Frederick Norton, when they laid him to rest on the side of the hill in view of the enemy, and the towers of the desecrated Cathedral of Rheims. And that other time, when in front of Verdun, the “slaughter house of the world,” when nerve-racked he had stopped his car on the road, in the midst of the shells and gas clouds, when he said to himself: “If I do go and am hit, the agony will be over in a few minutes, but, if I turn back, the agony will be with me all the rest of my life”—so he put on his gas mask and drove on. The “Cross of War” is not given by France for any but deserving action. The men of France who commended and recommended Phil Rice for the distinguished honor conferred upon him knew that in every day of his service he deserved what the French Government, through General Monroe, Commanding the 69th Division of Infantry, gave to him—the Croix de Guerre.
