It Was Up to Bill
And in Spite of Regulations and Red Tape the Old Sergeant Got to France and Into the Front Lines
Let no one dare deny the heroism of Bill Davidson. His name may not be found among those cited for distinguished service, but that is because distinguished services are not enumerated in the military code. If there is an instance of more determined valor or of more successful triumph over the impossible it does not appear in the chronicles. Nevertheless it is necessary to introduce Bill Davidson, and the greatest distinction that can be conferred upon him in the estimation of Bill Davidson himself is to say he was orderly to Lieutenant Colonel John C. Greenway, First Division, A. E. F. He hailed from out Arizona way. In the days when the United States was engaged with Spain in the discussion of matters more or less serious, Jack Greenway was a Captain of Rough Riders, and Bill was his Sergeant, and by the testimony of that Captain, now Lieutenant-Colonel, Bill was the best first Sergeant in Cuba. There Bill took into his spiritual system an affection of devotion to Greenway that time and circumstances can never diminish.
Therefore, when the United States declared war against Germany, Bill, who was in the employ of the New Cornelia at Ajo, straightway thought of Jack Greenway. He said to himself, “All hell can’t keep Jack Greenway from going to the front, and it’s me for Jack Greenway.” He foresaw a great experience “over there,” the doing of extraordinary things, and he wanted to be with Greenway in the performance.
Greenway, of course, tendered his services to the Government at once and was given a commission as Major of Engineers. Now let the Bisbee Review continue the story as it got it direct from Colonel Greenway in Bisbee town.
One day Bill walked into the Captain’s office in Warren just as he was preparing to close his desk and quit the office.
“Well, Captain, I’ve quit over yonder,” Bill remarked, after the salutations.
“What did you quit for, Bill?”
“I’m going into the army with you.”
“Have you enlisted?”
“Hell, no. I’m no fool. If I enlisted over here I might not go to France for months, perhaps not at all. I’m going with you, and shall enlist in your regiment after I get to France,” was the way Bill figured it out.
Greenway couldn’t make Bill see the futility of the idea of getting over to France without enlisting in the service, so there was nothing to do but let Bill come along. They took the train together at Osborn, Bill carrying his bed rolled up in a slicker, and together they made the trip to New York.
Bill met some of his old comrades of the Cuban campaign and confided to them his plans. They told him how impossible it was, and that he could not even get on the dock at Hoboken without a pass. Bill’s urbane confidence may have been a little shaken but not his determination. He went to Washington to see Senator Ashurst, and the Senator tried to get Bill a passport but without success, as there was no way for the War Department to act in the circumstances. Bill came back to New York with more determination than ever.
“I got my sailing orders,” said Greenway, “and with my sister, sister-in-law and Bill went to the Hoboken pier and found that I was to sail on the Agamemnon, which was formerly the German steamship Kaiser Wilhelm II. I went aboard and found that I had a large and comfortable stateroom and came ashore and told Bill.
“Bill declared that he was going to get aboard of that boat, although I pointed out the guards to him and told him how impossible it was. Bill was not disconcerted in the least. After sizing up the situation to his own satisfaction he said:
“‘Just you get somebody to talk to that guard over there to distract his attention while you are going through the gate.’
“I got an officer friend of mine to talk to the guard, and Bill picked up my bags and followed me. To my surprise he got through the gate without being seen by the guard, and we proceeded to the gangplank. There we ran into a snag. The captain called out to stop that civilian, and Bill was held up. It was only momentarily, however. I stepped up and told the captain that he was a friend of mine, carrying my bags aboard for me, and the captain permitted him to pass.
“When Bill got into that stateroom of mine he was the happiest man I ever saw. ‘If you get me off this boat they will have to throw me and hog-tie me and carry me off,’ was the way Bill put it as he sank into a chair and wiped his forehead.
“We sailed that night at high tide, and Bill stayed secreted in my room. I would smuggle food from the dining-room to him, but after two days of this Bill rebelled at having to live on cold food and declared that he intended having regular meals like the others on board. I told him that if he were discovered the chances were that he would find himself in the brig, but he said he would risk it, and out of my stateroom he went.