As the 115th advanced east of the Meuse River, the Germans fled, abandoning dwellings and leaving surprising treasures for the Americans to find. In anticipation of long, cold winter nights, they had provisioned their lodgings with conveniences, amusements and food. Winter might be spent very comfortably in a cozy dugout, complete with wallpaper and electric lights, quite different from the Allied trenches.
One such discovery was a frame cottage in the Bois de Consenvoye. Over the porch was a painted sign reading “New Ulmer Hutte.” Someone must have had leisure time for artistic endeavor, for beneath the sign was painted a colorful coat-of-arms inside a heavy wreath of oak leaves. On the peak of the roof rested two carved goats’ heads and over the front door, set in a rustic frame, was the picture of a sweet-faced little girl. Birch flower pots with blooming flowers lay along the side of the porch.
Inside, the “hutte” was luxurious. The rooms were paneled with polished oak, dark green silk stretched between them. A spacious octagonal room had a large brick fireplace, electric lights and comfortable oaken chairs to sit in. Another room contained a phonograph and a hundred records of German opera. Kitchen shelves were lined with canned goods. A German officer had even left his overcoat behind, tossed aside as he put distance between himself and the approaching Allies. “The whole effect, inside and out,” wrote Raymond S. Tompkins, “was as though you were seeing the woodland hut of an architect who liked to get away by himself sometimes, in a place that met his ideas about ‘roughing it’ artistically and with some luxury.”
It appeared as a haven against the war, but it was also heavily fortified — on the south side only, facing the Allied troops. On the north unfortified side was the start of a second rustic cottage, found to contain sophisticated telephone equipment. Protection against an Allied attack lay on the other side, between the two armies. Steel railroad rails were placed on end, logs lashed together behind them. Between the rails were rocks and concrete, built to withstand anything but direct shelling.
The Germans knew that the Americans had reached the hutte, and were determined to prevent their use of it. They knew its location and vulnerability. They had retreated north of the unprotected side, of course, and before even just one opera could be played on the phonograph or one can could be opened in the pantry, they shelled the cottage, destroying it before they moved further away.
Baltimore In The Great War 