Taken from Stanton Whitney's Squadron A in the great war, 1917-1918 : including a narrative of the 105th M.G. battalion. New York: Squadron A Association, c1923.

THE INCEPTION OF THE BATTALION
ALTHOUGH the United States had declared the ex¬ istence of a State of War with Germany on April 6, 1917, it was not until July 16 that Squadron A, Cavalry, N.G.N.Y., was called into the Federal Service by General Order 90, War Department. At this date, the Squadron had not been so very long out of the Federal Service—having been discharged on December 28, 1916, after a tour of duty on the Mexican Border, service which had started on June 19, 1916. The processes of being “Fed¬ eralized” were therefore not absolutely new and utterly strange.
For a month there were great activities at the Armory at 94th Street and Madison Avenue and the Squadron A Club a block below did a thriving business. There were drills in Central Park, equipment was thoroughly over¬ hauled and great efforts were made to recruit up to the required strength. Squadron Headquarters, Troops A, B, C, D and the Machine Gun Troop were all short of men and “rookies” began to pour in. As there were more applicants than vacancies to fill, we were able to discriminate and pick out the best men. Thus the month passed—paper work and physical examinations, oaths and drills, until, on August 17, the Squadron was ordered to camp in Van Cortlandt Park. Although we were a Cav¬ alry outfit, very few horses were available. Many of the men therefore left the Armory for the camp-site in a way not ordinarily associated with the Pomp of War and the Dash of Cavalry—they went up by the Subway. Our first introduction to the modern war of Science and Chemistry!
No sooner had we arrived at Van Cortlandt Park than the personnel began to change: men were detailed to attend the various training schools for officers, men were commis¬ sioned from the ranks, men were S.C.D.’d (discharged on Surgeon’s Certificate of Disability, and not to be confused with the D.S.C.—Distinguished Service Cross) and new men were consequently being enlisted. Drills were many and hard and “hikes” were of almost daily occurrence. Those hikes! They were the first of the Horrors of War we ran up against: and they were real horrors at that. We were cavalrymen, with all the pride and hauteur of cavalrymen; and the hardship—and ignominy—of walking like a “doughboy” seemed terrible. It hurt our feet and it hurt our pride. But we hiked. Yet, looking back as we can now, those hikes were as child’s play compared to our strolls through Belgium and through France—whether we were on a pavee road or making our way across country over barbed wire and shell holes.
Bad as were the hikes (and they were bad enough), the hardest part of the tour of duty at Van Cortlandt Park was getting used to losing our best men. Virtually all of our non-commissioned officers were commissioned and left us: many of the privates left us for the same reason. It was—and is—a source of pride to us that so many of our men were of officer calibre; but the losses of good men hit us hard. Almost every day, each Troop was confronted with the problem of building up a new organization. First Sergeants were leaving, Sergeants were leaving, Corporals were leaving, Privates were leaving. Luckily we had un¬ limited good men to call upon for the responsible positions and there was no halt in the work. Our officers were not changed—yet. It took real courage to recommend the best men for commissions because that meant that new non-com¬ missioned officers had to be appointed and trained.
On August 30, 1917, the “Send-Off Parade” for the 6th Division (later to become the 27th) was held in New York, so Squadron A, together with other units at Van Cortlandt Park, moved into the City on the afternoon of August 29 and proceeded to various armories where the units bivouaced over night. The Parade took place in glorious weather; and the next day we returned to Van Cortlandt Park to take up again the routine of preparation. Drills and hikes, hikes and drills, and more drills and more hikes. Finally, on October 12, we proceeded to Jersey City where we entrained for the South. Rumor had it that we were going to Camp Wadsworth at Spartanburg, South Carolina, and—for a wonder—rumor was correct. There was the ordinary grous¬ ing over the fact that the men considered that they were over¬ crowded on the train—three men to a double seat in a standard day coach—but in after months we looked back to that trip as a marvel of luxury: we had not as yet been introduced to the French Hommes-Chevaux method of transportation.
Squadron A, consisting of Headquarters, Troop A, Troop B, Troop C, Troop D and the Machine Gun Troop, boarded the train and during the night disappeared from the Army Lists as Squadron A, and appeared on October 13 as the 105th Machine Gun Battalion, made up of a Head¬ quarters Company, Company A, Company B and Com¬ pany C. Company A was born as the result of a consoli¬ dation of Troops A and B, Troop D formed the nucleus for Company B and Company C was old Troop C and the Machine Gun Troop combined. This change into a Battalion of Machine Guns cost us two Captains—Captain Howard Cowperthwaite, Jr., formerly in command of Troop A, and Captain Ridgely Nicholas, commanding officer of Troop C—both of whom were rendered superfluous and assigned to the Division Trains. Our first casualties of the War!