Sergeant Alvin C. York

Conscience Plus Red Hair Are Bad For Germans

(From The Literary Digest, June 14, 1919)

“On the morning of October 8, Corporal York was one of a body of sixteen men in the battle of the Argonne who were ordered to put certain enemy machine guns out of action. The guns they were after were on the other side of a slope. To gain their objective, the Americans were forced to climb a hill, exposed a part of the time to enemy fire from other positions. They accomplished this without loss and began to descend on the other side, their object being to advance upon the enemy from the rear. Presently they found themselves in a cuplike valley among the hills where they spied two Germans ahead of them. One of these surrendered and the other disappeared. Anticipating battle, the detachment went into skirmish order and continued to push forward. Arriving at a small stream, the Americans discovered on the other side some twenty or thirty Germans, among them several officers who were apparently holding a conference. The Americans fired, with the result that the entire body of Germans surrendered. Just as they were on the point of departure with their prisoners, dozens of enemy machine guns, hidden on the steep slope of the hill facing them not over thirty yards away, opened up on the American detachment. Captors and captured immediately droped flat on their stomachs, but not before six Americans had been killed. Three men were wounded, among them the sergeant in command. York and seven privates remained. Of these one had taken refuge behind a tree raked on both sides by enemy fire so he could not get away, and the others were guarding the German prisoners. Hence York was left to fight an entire machine-gun battalion alone.

Quoting further from Mr. Patullo's story:

"He never thought of surrender. His problem was to make the enemy give up as quickly as possible, and he kept yelling to them to 'Come down!' "Bang! Bang! 'Come down!' York would shout, precisely as tho the surrender of a battalion to an individual soldier were the usual thing ­ and I really believe he regards it that way, provided the soldier be an American. "'Somehow I knew I wouldn't be killed,' he said. 'I've never thought I would be ­ never once from the time we started over here.' "At the first crack of the machine guns on the slope opposite him York drops to earth. He was in a narrow path leading toward the emplacements. Directly in front lay the Boche prisoners, groveling in fear of their comrades' fire. The machine guns were less than thirty yards away and were blazing straight down. Their stream of fire mowed off the tops of the bushes as tho they had been cut with a scythe. "And then the second elder got going on his own account. Sighting as carefully as he was wont to do in the turkey matches at home in Tennessee, he began potting the Boches in their fox-holes, and the Boches who were hiding behind trees, and the Boches who were firing at him from the shelter of logs. And with every shot he brought down an enemy. No, I am wrong; he showed me a crease on a tree-bole later and confessed his belief that he had missed that one. "'You never heard such a clatter and racket in all your life,' he said. 'I couldn't see any of our boys. Early and Cutting had run along toward the left in front of me just before the battle started, but I didn't know where they were.' "'If I'd moved I'd have been killed in a second. The Germans were what saved me. I kept up close to them, and so the fellers on the hill had to fire a little high for fear of hitting their own men. The bullets were cracking just over my head and a lot of twigs fell down. "'Well, I fired a couple of clips or so ­ things were moving pretty lively, so I don't know how many I did shoot ­ and first thing I knew a Boche got up and flung a little bomb at me about the size of a silver dollar. It missed and wounded one of the prisoners on the ground, and I got the Boche got him square. "'Next thing that happened, a lieutenant rose up from near one of them machine guns and he had seven men with him. The whole bunch came charging down the hill at me like this. They held their guns like this. "'I had my automatic out by then, and let them have it. Got the lieutenant right through the stomach and he drops and screamed a lot. All the Boches who were hit squealed just like pigs. Then I shot the others.' "'You killed the whole bunch?' "'Yes, sir. At that distance I couldn't miss.' He killed this detachment before they could charge twenty yards downhill ­ eight men. "'As soon as the Germans saw the lieutenant drop, most of them quit firing their machine guns and the battle quieted down. I kept on shooting, but in a minute here come the major who had surrendered with the first bunch. I reckon he had done some shooting at us himself, because I heard firing from the prisoners and afterward I found out that his pistol was empty.'

"'He put his hand on my shoulder like this and said to me in English. 'Don't shoot any more, and I'll make them surrender.' So I said. 'All right'; and he did so, and they did so.'"

Corporal York with his string of prisoners now started out for the American lines, being assisted by the seven privates, who also brought along the three men that had been wounded. On the way they ran into other German machine-gun nests, the men connected with all of which, when they saw their captured comrades in tow of the Americans, decided to surrender. So, when the party finally reached the American forces, the prisoners numbered 132.

Such, in brief, is the tale of the exploit which has made Sergeant Alvin C. York famous all over the land, and was responsible for his being tendered what is probably the greatest reception ever given a non-commissioned officer in this or any other country, upon his arrival in New York City the other day. The things about York that made the deepest impression on those with whom he came in contact in New York were his modesty and his self-possession. He comes from a little town in the Tennessee mountains and confessed that he used to think Knoxville in that State quite a city. His experiences in the metropolis, therefore, where he was lionized in true American style, were entirely new to him. Yet he was utterly unabashed throughout and carried himself with the dignity becoming the man who performed the greatest individual feat in the war. According to the New York Sun­ "He attributes all his prowess as a soldier to the grace of God, while admitting that he was one of the best shots with the rifle and pistol in his neighborhood, being able to shoot the head off a turkey with either rifle or six-shooter. He said to his questioners that he felt stronger spiritually since he had 'come out of there, with the help of God. The American Army and the American flag won the war because they had God behind them, and when you have God behind you, you can come out on top every time.'"

Alvin C. York's exploit will go down in history as one of the finest examples of American valor.

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