A History of Troop A Cavalry, Connecticut National Guard and Its Service in the Great War as Co. D, 102d Machine Gun Battalion — Story, Setting & Ideas

From Cavalry to Machine Guns: A Unit Transformed

The book opens with the unit’s pre-war identity as Troop A Cavalry, but the editor quickly moves to mobilization and the shift to machine-gun tactics. The table of contents lists chapters titled “Mobilization,” “Preparation,” and “Training,” indicating a deliberate focus on the process of conversion. In the foreword, the editor states the book is meant to remind “D Company men and their descendants of the serious and frivolous, sad and happy moments” of their shared experience. This dual tone—alternating between official records and personal recollection—shapes the narrative. The editor includes specific details such as the location of the divisional supply base at Menil la Tour, four kilometers south of La Rehanne, and the presence of the 101st Regiment band, grounding the account in verifiable geography and unit structure.

Diction of Danger: Gas Attacks and Barrages

The editor’s language becomes notably precise when describing combat. On June 16, 1918, the “Hun laid down a barrage indicating he was about to attack,” centering on Xivray-Marvoisin. The account notes that the enemy assault was directed against units of the 103d Infantry Regiment and D Company, 103d Machine Gun Battalion, whose nucleus was “former members of Troop A.” Three days later, the editor describes the first projector gas attack launched by the American army, using “sixteen hundred projectiles” thrown from a point in front of Jury Woods. The phrasing “rage at these tactics was expressed in the terrific bombardment” attributes emotion to the unit’s response, while the observation that most projectiles landed harmlessly due to “new artillery which had not become accustomed to the positions” shows a technical eye for equipment limitations.

The Texture of Daily Life in Rest and Movement

Interspersed with combat reports are details of rest periods and logistics. The editor notes that “the luxuries of baths and new clothing were arranged for the Company at Menil la Tour,” and that following days were filled with “baseball games and concerts at the Y. M. C. A. hut.” Local talent, with the assistance of Johnson and Hine, sold cocoa and doughnuts “to lines of men which lasted as long as the supplies held out.” The movement into new positions is described with a mix of tension and routine: the third platoon left on the night of the 12th to relieve a French unit, and the balance of the Company moved out the following night, “passing safely through the perils of ‘Dead Man’s Curve’” to complete the relief “under the protection of midnight darkness.” These passages reveal the editor’s attention to both the mundane and the hazardous.

Photographs and Lists: The Material Record

The book includes a section of photographs with captions listing officers and scenes: “Company D starting out from Niantic expecting to leave for France, Sept. 23, 1917,” “Barracks, winter of 1917, Certilleux,” and “Capt. Paton’s dugout in the Ormont.” These images are paired with a casualty list and a miscellaneous section, added by the transcriber to pages 81 and 85 respectively. The editor’s decision to include a dedication to Captain John Allan Paton, “killed in action October 27, 1918,” frames the narrative as a memorial. The foreword explicitly hopes the book will serve as a reminder to “D Company men and their descendants,” suggesting the intended audience is the unit itself and its families, not a general readership. This focus on the material and personal record gives the history a documentary quality.

The Editor’s Voice: Between Official and Personal

The editor, identified only as “a member of the company,” draws on diaries and official records, but the narrative voice is not purely bureaucratic. Phrases such as “the joy of seeing their comrade” and “the thrills of the silent secrecy of war-time movements” inject a subjective tone. The account of the gas attack includes the detail that “results of the gassing were apparent from artillery observation posts, which reported the departure of several hospital trains,” a fact that could only come from post-action reports or personal observation. The editor also notes the “dearth of company officers” when Lieutenant Nelson left for school, a logistical complaint that hints at the strain on the unit. This blend of official data and personal commentary creates a layered perspective on the company’s experience.

Readers should approach this history as a composite document: part official record, part unit memoir. The editor’s reliance on diaries and official records means that dates and locations are precise, but the emotional register is that of a participant. Pay attention to the small details—the baseball games, the doughnut lines, the mention of “Dead Man’s Curve”—as they reveal what the editor considered worth preserving. The book is best read as a primary source for understanding how one National Guard unit documented its own transformation and sacrifice.

Reading those diary entries about Troop A's quiet, steady endurance—gas alarms, mud, the strange normalcy of routine—I kept thinking how war stories rarely stay in one place. It reminded me of something older, crueler, in The German Terror in Belgium: An Historical Record — Inside the Classic. Both books just sit with you afterwards, like a weight you didn't notice until you set it down.