John Shearer: Remembering My Grandfather, A World War I Veteran

Concerning a memorable moment in his life, my paternal grandfather, Claude Clifford “C.C.” Shearer, years later described it as “the sweetest silence I have ever heard in my life.”

 

He was referring to Nov. 11, 1918, at 11 a.m. – the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month, when the armistice occurred ending World War I, or the Great War, as it was then called.

 

The reason for his excitement was that he had an unenviable front-row perspective of the war: he was headed to Sedan, France, with members of the well-known Rainbow Division of the American Expeditionary Forces.

 

And he had already fought at such famous battles as Chateau-Thierry, Aisne-Marne, and the Meuse Argonne Woods.

 

As a result of all he had been through, he would continue to become pretty emotional later that day when they returned to camp and the band played the “Star-Spangled Banner” during retreat.

 

“I really had never enjoyed it so much,” he once wrote in some brief remembrances.

“It had new meaning to me, due to our many trying hardships.”

 

Back in Chattanooga, his future hometown for a few years, the sound was anything but the silence he experienced on the battlefield that day. I once wrote a story about all the celebration that occurred when news reached Chattanooga that an armistice had been signed, and I concluded after looking through the old 1918 newspapers on microfilm that Chattanooga had likely never experienced collectively so much spontaneous joy, even after World War II ended.

 

All kinds of noisy sounds of celebration were taking place, as people perhaps innocently thought this might genuinely be the end of all wars.

 

I had written that story in 1988 about the time I had interviewed some of the last-remaining World War I veterans still living in Chattanooga. I remember sitting around a living room at one of their homes interviewing about four or five of them.

 

Someone had worked hard to get them all together on my behalf. Two or three of them were quite frail by that time 70 years after the war had ended, but one or two were still able to offer some truly interesting memories.

 

I remember one man told me that World War I was somewhat unique in that it was fought by countries that all shared the same values, and a sense of chivalry existed. As evidence, he said that if two planes from opposing sides were in air-to-air combat and one of the planes retreated after being hit, the pilot of the other plane usually let it go rather than trying to continue pursuing it while it was in trouble.

 

Unfortunately, my grandfather was not one of those at the reunion, as he had already died in another town. He had moved to Cordele, Ga., south of Macon before the Great Depression hit, and later enjoyed a longtime career mostly as a small-town banker before running the Georgian Motor Court there until his late 70s.

 

He had died more than five years earlier -- in February 1983 at the age of 88 – while I was in one of my last quarters at the University of Georgia. Over the years I had enjoyed going to visit him in Cordele, including sitting in the lobby of the motor court while he waited on customers, but I unfortunately never had the opportunity to ask him much about his wartime experiences.

 

A generally easygoing and friendly person, he never gave any hint of having been involved in such heavy fighting.

 

I think he told my father, Dr. Wayne Shearer, about how hard trench warfare was, but I knew little myself growing up about his experiences and was not old enough before he died to try and gather some of those remembrances.

 

However, in the 1970s, my father had asked him to write down his memories of his war experiences, and he kindly sent about an 800-word recollection. I have included it at the bottom in its entirety, with only minor editing for clarity.

 

Reading over it again in recent days, I realize it is both fascinating to me in its insight, while also leaving me wanting to know many more details.

 

For example, after talking about surviving the fighting up to that point and being one of only 73 out of 240 men still alive after one battle, he said a machine gun had hit his helmet. That, along with the fact he could not get any water, made him feel run down, he wrote.

 

Perhaps he might have also been suffering from some other physical ailment or illness, but he said while dreaming during that time that his deceased mother and sister visited him, and told him he was going to be OK.

 

“My thirst was taken care of,” he wrote of that defining and unusual moment in his life.

 

Able to hang on until the end of the war, he and fellow soldiers stayed in Germany for several months after the war as part of the occupation army. He had an obviously much more enjoyable time looking for places to rest and relax instead of places to attack on the European landscape.

 

After sailing home in early 1919, during which time someone stole his Army helmet while he was asleep, he then took part in a parade in New York. He then said sad goodbyes to all his comrades in arms who had also survived the fighting, and then moved to Chattanooga.

 

Curious to know more about the Chattanooga part of his life, I went and looked in some old city directories recently. He was first listed in 1920, so he must have moved here not long after the war. He had actually grown up in nearby Gaylesville, Ala., in Cherokee County.

 

His father, Allen Vance Shearer, would later move to Summerville, Ga., and then to LaFayette, Ga. At the latter, he would run a country store near downtown and own some farmland and become known for his strong opinions.

 

My more-diplomatic grandfather initially secured a job as an assistant cashier at the Bank of East Chattanooga, which was located in a pretty, still-standing building with arched front windows near the intersection of Glass Street and North Chamberlain Avenue.

 

He would eventually move up to cashier/teller of the bank, which at one point became the East Chattanooga branch of Hamilton Trust and Savings Bank (and was later taken over by First Tennessee Bank.)

 

The city directories say he lived in the 1920s at such addresses as, in order, 2809 Taylor St., 2611 Taylor St., 2900 Noah St., and 2704 Glass St. – all within fairly short walking distance of the bank.

 

A recent drive through the area shows that the Noah Street home is still there, although it has perhaps had a porch enclosed, and modern vinyl siding has been added. The Glass Street home is also still there pretty much intact.

 

Regarding the Taylor Street homes, one is gone, but the other one has a really long, shotgun style shape typical of those from the early 1900s. But it has new wooden siding all over, so it is hard to tell if it is part of a home that might have been there in the 1920s.

 

But the most important point about my grandfather’s time in East Chattanooga deals not with a home, but a person.

 

While working at the bank, a Chattanooga Plow Co. employee, Alonzo Mathis, who lived on nearby Appling Street, would come in, sometimes with his older teenage daughter, Eva.

 

He evidently took a liking to Mr. Shearer, and apparently so did Eva. My grandfather and she were later married at an East Chattanooga church and, while living in the Glass Street home in 1924, had my father, Wayne. He is now 94 and lives in retirement in Hixson after a career as an optometrist and his own military service during World War II.

 

After moving to Cordele around the mid-to-late 1920s, they several years later had a daughter, Norma Shearer Turton. Named after the famous actress at the time, she still lives in Cordele. My grandmother apparently hated to leave Chattanooga and missed it and would often return with her children for summertime stays with her family, my father recalls.

 

My grandfather would later come up and join them for a shorter stay, and often took my father to visit old acquaintances from the East Chattanooga and Missionary Ridge area.

 

In 2002, I asked my father to write down some memories of his family, and he wrote this about his father: “My father was very easy going and well liked and made friends wherever he went. He was not pushy and belonged to numerous civic organizations, always ending up as president. He was the Sunday school superintendent at First Methodist Church in Cordele for 40 years.”

 

It was a manner that apparently helped him wherever he went, including on the tense battlefields of France 100 years ago.

 

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Full World War I Remembrances of C.C. Shearer written in the 1970s:

`

History of My Experiences in World War I

Oct. 3, 1917 – May 13, 1919

 

I went into the Army being drawn by the selected draft Oct. 3, going to Camp Pike, Ark., near Little Rock, where we received all necessary shots. We went by train. En route we went through Chattanooga, Tenn.

 

After two weeks, we came back to Camp Wheeler, near Macon, Ga., where we received our training, including how to use such rifles as the Springfield, which was used in battle backed up by machine guns.

 

In the early part of June 1918, they started us on our way to Hoboken, N.J. There we happened to be the first 10,000 selected to go overseas for participation in battle to help reinforce the English and French.

 

At the front we went over in an old English cattle boat; en route we had a terrific storm lasting for 36 hours, with waves as high as housetops. A large number became seasick, unable to come up on deck.

 

We landed at Liverpool, England, July 1, going by train to South Hampton, England, where we spent July 4. They had large signs reading, “We welcome our American Allies.”

 

On the night of July 5, we crossed over the English Channel, landing at Lattawe, France. There we were sent to join our companies. I was sent to Company H-166 Infantry, 42^nd Division – better known as the Rainbow Division.

 

In the early part of July 1918, I went into battle at Chateau-Thierry and the Aisne-Marne. This was a very active front, under continuous shell and machine gun fire.

 

We moved into the Saint-Mihiel. Gen. John J. Pershing was made the commander of our division. Through his insistence, we had all American troops, as the French and English had tried, but failed.

 

However, our Army captured Saint-Mihiel on Sept. 13 and in our advance they passed up a large artillery gun that was firing directly into our troops, killing a large number of our men. The gun was soon taken care of by our men.

 

On Sept. 26, an attack was made on the Hindenburg line, which was broken by our troops. The morale of the German Army was broken. One thing that led to this was, as previously brought out, the Germans had their wagon trains ready to move in, but were met by our men. Hand-to-hand fighting with bayonets failed.

 

On Oct. 1, we went into the Meuse Argonne woods, which was our worst front. They had driven a wedge into the line. They were firing at us from front and each side. We went into battle with 240 men, and next morning, had only 73. I was one of them.

 

In the heat of the battle, a machine gun hit my helmet. I had a stiff neck for a few days. During this time our kitchen was badly damaged. There was a shortage of drinking water. I suffered more for water than food, although very hungry.

 

During this interval when I was choking, I went to sleep and, in my dreams, mother and sister, who had passed on some years before, came and my thirst was taken care of.

 

On Nov. 4, peace feelers were sent out by the Germans. We were headed for Sedan on Nov. 11, and the Armistice was signed. The guns were silent. However, they had continued until 11 o’clock.

 

That was the sweetest silence I have ever heard in my life. That afternoon, at retreat as usual, the band played the “Star-Spangled Banner.” I really had never enjoyed it so much.

 

It had new meaning to me, due to our many trying hardships.

 

After this, they felt we should go into the Army of Occupation on the Rhine, after which we hiked 155 miles through Belgium and Luxembourg.  We spent some time en route at Luxembourg.

 

It was a hard trip, as we landed in Germany around Dec. 15, where we were given a room in a German home. They treated us really good. In fact, we enjoyed being with them.

 

We remained there until the latter part of March 1919. Then we went by train across to Brest, France.

 

While in Germany, we had lots of trips of interest that I thoroughly enjoyed. I even attended a carrier pigeon school at Newnorg, and had a written examination. They said I made good grades.

 

The trips up the Rhine were good.

 

We sailed from Brest on April 18, 1919, on the Leviathan, and landed at Hoboken, N.J., and paraded in New York and had a good reception.

 

At that time the Ohio boys went to their homes, and all the rest came South. It was a sad parting with all our buddies.

 

I came to Fort McPherson, Ga., where I received my discharge on May 13, 1919.

 

By Private First Class Claude C. Shearer, Serial No. 1342379

 

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Jcshearer2@comcast.net