Finally, the day came when Uncle Zack's unit was sent forward to help press the attack on Soissons. Just before noon my uncle's unit rolled forward into the attack. It was at that point that fate stepped in. The French decided to support the attack with gas shells, hoping to catch the Germans unprepared. An inopportune change in the wind brought that gas back toward the Allied lines, and the tanks drove straight into it.
Battle is chaos, and for inexperienced soldiers, it's an exercise in confusion.
The first whiff of gas told my uncle he'd made a mistake, but he thought quickly. Instead, he pulled out his Dr. Grabow, which he'd already packed with tobacco in anticipation of a victory smoke after the battle. And as luck would have it, the combination of the heavy chemical content of the Anniversary blend and the filter in the pipe stem counteracted the deadly gas. They buried that pipe with him. They had to, really, because it was stitched to his hand.