The history of Company B, 311th Infantry in the World War

In Short

This book provides an intimate, firsthand chronicle of Company B, 311th Infantry, during its twenty-month existence from 1917 to 1919. It traces the unit’s evolution from its formation at Madison Barracks through the grueling training at Camp Dix, the perilous ocean crossing, and finally into the thick of combat in the St. Mihiel and Meuse-Argonne sectors. It has endured as a vital primary source because it captures the granular, human-scale experience of a single infantry company—the mundane struggles, the losses, and the profound camaraderie—that defined the American expeditionary force.

The Story

The narrative begins with the rapid transition of civilian men into soldiers. Recruited from diverse backgrounds—Harlem flats, Jersey farmhouses, and city tenements—these men arrive at Madison Barracks and Camp Dix with little preparation, their initial excitement often masked by the discomfort of ill-fitting uniforms and the bewilderment of military discipline. The author acknowledges the cynicism bred by political rhetoric, noting that the men kept their patriotism jealously hidden, preferring to focus on the immediate, tangible challenges of learning to drill, handle weapons, and manage the logistics of survival.

The voyage across the Atlantic on the Nestor serves as a bridge to the foreign theater of war. Upon arriving in France, the company enters a cycle of adaptation. They are introduced to the realities of the French countryside, living in squalid billets, negotiating with frugal peasants, and navigating the confusing, overlapping training systems of American and British instructors. The account details the relentless pace of learning: bayonet drills, gas defense, and the constant, bewildering shifts in orders that define their early months.

As the company nears the front, the tone shifts from training maneuvers to the grim markers of total war. They pass through the scarred landscape of Chateau Thierry, witnessing the physical remnants of earlier battles—shattered homes, abandoned equipment, and the somber rows of graves that signify the cost of the conflict. The narrative captures the sensory immersion of the front: the freezing, rain-swept nights in cramped motor trucks, the exhaustion of forced marches, and the persistent, low-level dread of shelling.

The climax of the story occurs during the intense fighting of the Meuse-Argonne offensive. Here, the company faces the chaotic, high-stakes reality of combat. The author does not shy away from the failure of equipment, such as the jam-prone Chauchat machine guns, or the devastating loss of life. There are harrowing descriptions of failed frontal attacks, the frustration of being pinned down by superior enemy fire, and the small, desperate acts of valor required to hold a position.

The narrative arc concludes not with a hero’s return, but with the bureaucratic, almost surreal process of de-mobilization. The men undergo a final "mill" of processing, signing endless papers, and surrendering their equipment in a setting that feels detached from the intensity of the trauma they have just survived. The book ends by shifting from the narrative to the ledger, providing detailed rosters and casualty lists that give a final, stark accounting of the company’s cost.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The men leave behind their civilian lives for the unknown, boarding the Nestor while reflecting on the homes they might never see again. The journey is defined by the colonel’s intense, pedantic focus on orders and the men’s transition into an disciplined, if green, fighting machine.

Training in a foreign land The company settles into the French sector, navigating the realities of billeting in barns and stables. They struggle to reconcile the rapid-fire instructions from British trainers with the shifting American systems, all while enduring the daily grind of intensive field exercises.

The shadow of the front The narrative moves toward the Marne, where the landscape begins to bear the physical scars of battle. Seeing the graves and ruins of Chateau Thierry forces the men to confront the mortality that now looms directly over their own future.

The ordeal of combat The focus tightens on the harrowing experience of the Meuse-Argonne. The men face the physical and psychological toll of constant shelling, the failure of their own weaponry under fire, and the gut-wrenching loss of friends in the confusion of the woods.

The final accounting The return is marked by the cold, mechanical reality of the "mill," where the soldier’s individuality is subsumed by paperwork. The book closes with detailed rosters and casualty lists, providing a permanent memorial for the men who served in the company.

The People

The author, who serves as the company commander, acts as the primary lens through which the war is filtered. He struggles with the weight of responsibility—balancing the need for discipline with his genuine care for his men—and his writing is marked by a refusal to hide behind an "artificial impersonality." He is a man who tries to be both a commander and an observer, admitting his own limitations and lack of knowledge about the broader scope of the war.

Lieutenant Roy A. Schuyler stands out as a figure of quiet, tragic competence. He holds an outpost line under horrific conditions and is killed while selflessly checking on his men, embodying the heavy burden of leadership in a war that spares no one. His loss is felt as a profound disruption to the company’s moral and operational center.

Sergeant William M. Reid and Sergeant Edward J. Welsh represent the backbone of the unit. Welsh, in particular, is noted for his resourcefulness, capturing the company’s first prisoner and later receiving the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions in the Meuse-Argonne. These men and others, like the ill-fated Corporal Joseph R. McGarrity, are defined by their ability to maintain order and courage when their superiors fall, turning the chaos of the front into a functioning, defensive wall. Together, these figures illustrate the transformation of ordinary individuals into reliable, courageous leaders under the most extreme pressure imaginable.

In Its Own Voice

“Company B, 311th Infantry--Only a letter and a number? Only one company out of the hundreds in the National Army? Yes, to outsiders; but to me, and I trust and believe to you, Company B was a living and vital being, composed of part of what was best in each of us.”

The author reflects on the deep, almost personal connection he feels toward the unit, framing it as more than just a military designation.

“From then on we had only our rifle fire against their leaden hailstorm. Neither side could aim their shots, but they were shooting twenty bullets to our one, and our hastily formed line was driven back.”

This passage underscores the desperate imbalance of power the men faced in the woods during the Meuse-Argonne, highlighting the sheer mechanical disadvantage of their position.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the book is that the true history of war is not written in grand strategic movements, but in the experiences of the small, tightly knit groups at the front. The author posits that the "official" war of generals and maps is secondary to the "real" war experienced by the doughboy. It is an exploration of the fragility of the human machine when placed in an inhuman environment. The book asks how a group of strangers becomes a "living and vital being," and how much of that identity survives the traumatic dissolution of the unit upon their return home. It is a work concerned with the duty of memory and the necessity of documenting a reality that would otherwise vanish into the anonymity of statistics.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the unvarnished reality of primary historical accounts will find this book deeply compelling. It captures the transition of a generation that was suddenly thrust from the comfort of American daily life into the industrialized violence of the European front. Because it is written by a participant shortly after the war, it possesses an immediacy that modern historical analyses often lack; you feel the cold, the hunger, and the frustration of soldiers navigating a bureaucratic, shifting conflict.

The book is not without its difficulties. The prose is functional and occasionally dry, reflecting the period’s matter-of-fact tone, and the casualty lists are long and demanding to read. The author’s voice is one of his time, with its specific prejudices and attitudes toward the French peasantry and the nature of the "Hun" enemy, which may feel jarring to a contemporary reader. However, these elements are exactly why the book is valuable: it is an honest, unrefined portrait of the period. What stays with the reader is the poignant contrast between the initial, idealistic excitement of the recruits and the heavy, quiet cost of the returning veterans. It is a stark reminder of the human element in military history, serving as a permanent, written monument to those whose names might otherwise be forgotten.