| | PVT. CLARENCE H. POST
Serial No. 2,049281
611 Spring St., Ann Arbor, Mich.
Post was inducted May 24, 1918. In stature be was short and stockily built. His inclinations were decidedly musical. The boys will remember bow he contributed to their pleasure and amusement at Camp Custer by playing the piano. He was especially proficient on the violin. His was decidedly a temperamental disposition, with a great indisposition to exertion. Would rather entertain pleasant dreams than live in an unpleasant present. He will be remembered as good-natured, liberal and accommodating. Post was not a type, but more of an individual; had qualities of initiative and, contradictory as it may seem, was a good reasoner, which qualified him for the Battery B Detail.
At Coetquidan Post had many experiences at standing guard. He attended a school of airplane signal instruction. At the front he had dangerous duties to perform as telephone lineman.
During the Montauville engagement Post was sent out to repair some wires under the direction of Lieut. Bertling, 1st Battalion Liaison officer. After making the necessary repairs, he sat on a rock near the roadside and nonchalantly smoked his pipe. Sergt. Schmuck, on reconnaissance for a dugout, took Sprague, Barry and Post with him. The two former carried the wire, while it was Post’s duty to feed the wire in the zig-zag trench, which seemed to have no ending. Post, in the guidance of the wire, evidently got a little dizzy, for he just naturally sat down to take a rest.
At Pont-a-Mousson Post was a member of the Battery B orchestra, which played for the Battery B quartette, giving a rendition on the violin of a selection gotten from somewhere by 1st Class Private Brown, of the Brigade Headquarters, who was formerly with Battery B.
Private Barnhouse and Private Post were “buddies” in all that the word implies. They always seemed to have secrets between them, and at Pont-a-Mousson, on Sundays, after they were made holidays for all those who did not forget detail or duty during the week. Post and Barnhouse would mysteriously disappear, returning to Battery area with hardly a minute to spare before retreat. They usually brought back trinkets and souvenirs, and in explaining their absence they showed an uncanny ability to agree on a story in all the essential details and stick to it, while everything pointed to their having been A. W. O. L. for a period of time. Post was unfortunate enough to never have his gun clean for inspection, at least not up to the Captain’s standard, so it was quite common after Saturday inspections for Post to be on extra duty for this offense.
Post describes in his own words the mysterious trips, and now that he is out of the army, he has “done gone and squealed on Barnhouse:”
“Fellow sufferers of the B. C. Detail, do you, perchance, recollect the rusty ‘side-arms’ of Private Post, the dreamer? Anyway, it is still more or less fresh in the mind of Private Post. I can still see with my mind’s eye those miserable little spots of rust. Sometimes they would pass inspection and sometimes—
“But why bring up such unpleasant incidents? Such was the case on Saturday afternoon, December 14, 1918. I was doing a little favor for our dearly-beloved Captain, a sequence of our eagerly- anticipated Saturday inspection, you understand. I hardly expected to be paroled for Sunday, so you can imagine how happy I was when I learned, at reveille, that my name was not on the chosen list.
“After we had breakfasted on our prunes and cornmeal, my old ‘side-kick,’ Barnhouse, stumped me to go for a little walk. I had a strong desire to obliterate myself for the day, so I innocently agreed to go, not realizing at the time what a tireless pedestrain Friend Barnhouse was. Watching our chance, we successfully faded away through the early morning fog, via the backway—with the supposition that the opposite direction was the front way.
“When we had proceeded to a safe distance, we held a council of two to decide which direction to take. The big chateau was the first place to be explored. After ransacking the place in the hope of finding a souvenir, and looking over the outbuildings and scenic fixtures which might have been right in style during the Dark Ages, we hopefully hit off towards Metz.
“Quite a few of the Yanks were on the road that Sunday and we didn’t hike many kilometers before we heard hair-raising tales of the M. P.’s of Metz, which should have cautioned the most reckless. Therefore when one of those ‘peanut roasters’ came crawling down the railroad track we immediately agreed to hop aboard. Well, when we got back to Pont-a-Mousson we simply didn’t have the heart to get off, so we rode on through several villages until we came to Pompey, which we considered far enough for two inexperienced bums—I am speaking for myself; I hand it to Barnhouse for being really hard-boiled.
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‘Before we started back (to attend retreat we picked up a pair of 75 shell-case vases the ones which graced the mantel in our apartments. Fortunately, we caught a French truck, which was on the road to Pont-a-Mousson, and who did we find aboard that truck but Sarge Reddaway and some other members of our outfit.
“The following Sunday morning found us aboard the first ‘side-door excursion’ going in the direction of Nancy. But when we reached Pompey we decided to begin where we left off the preceding Sunday. We made a thorough canvass of every shop, wet and otherwise, that we could find. Part of the way back we rode in the cab with the frog engineer and fireman. When they reached the end of their run they showed us another freight which was waiting for us. I wonder if Barnhouse still has that flexible reed cane for which be traded off his gloves with the brakie?
“To add to our difficulties we were loaded down with two huge sacks of nabiscoes for Xmas, and postcard pictures of Nancy as proof that we had been at that place.
“This ended our little Sunday trips while at Pont-a-Mousson. They served to the purpose of breaking the monotony a little at any rate.” |