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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39072-8.txt b/39072-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9ceb42 --- /dev/null +++ b/39072-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6038 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The A.E.F., by Heywood Broun + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: The A.E.F. + With General Pershing and the American Forces + +Author: Heywood Broun + +Release Date: March 7, 2012 [EBook #39072] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE A.E.F. *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Internet Archive.) + + + + + + + + +THE A. E. F. + + + + +THE A. E. F. + +WITH GENERAL PERSHING +AND THE AMERICAN FORCES + +BY + +HEYWOOD BROUN + +[Illustration: colophon] + +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + +NEW YORK LONDON + +1918 + +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + +Printed in the United States of America + +TO + +RUTH HALE + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + +I. THE BIG POND 1 + +II. THE A. E. F. 11 + +III. LAFAYETTE, NOUS VOILÀ 25 + +IV. THE FRANCO-AMERICAN HONEYMOON 36 + +V. WITHIN SOUND OF THE GUNS 56 + +VI. SUNNY FRANCE 74 + +VII. PERSHING 92 + +VIII. MEN WITH MEDALS 102 + +IX. LETTERS HOME 115 + +X. MARINES 126 + +XI. FIELD PIECES AND BIG GUNS 136 + +XII. OUR AVIATORS AND A FEW OTHERS 147 + +XIII. HOSPITALS AND ENGINEERS 164 + +XIV. WE VISIT THE FRENCH ARMY 177 + +XV. VERDUN 192 + +XVI. WE VISIT THE BRITISH ARMY 200 + +XVII. BACK FROM PRISON 221 + +XVIII. FINISHING TOUCHES 227 + +XIX. THE AMERICAN ARMY MARCHES TO THE TRENCHES 250 + +XX. TRENCH LIFE 260 + +XXI. THE VETERANS RETURN 281 + +Some of the material in this book is reprinted through the courtesy of +the _New York Tribune_. + + + + +THE A. E. F. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE BIG POND + + +"Voilà un sousmarin," said a sailor, as he stuck his head through the +doorway of the smoking room. The man with aces and eights dropped, but +the player across the table had three sevens, and he waited for a +translation. It came from the little gun on the afterdeck. The gun said +"Bang!" and in a few seconds it repeated "Bang!" I heard the second shot +from my stateroom, but before I had adjusted my lifebelt the gun fired +at the submarine once more. + +A cheer followed this shot. No Yale eleven, or even Harvard for that +matter, ever heard such a cheer. It was as if the shout for the first +touchdown and for the last one and for all the field goals and long +gains had been thrown into one. There was something in the cheer, too, +of a long drawn "ho-old 'em." + +I looked out the porthole and asked an ambulance man: "Did we get her +then?" + +"No, but we almost did," he answered. "There she is," he added. "That's +the periscope." + +Following the direction of his finger I found a stray beanpole thrust +somewhat carelessly into the ocean. It came out of a wave top with a +rakish tilt. Probably ours was the angle, for the steamer was cutting +the ocean into jigsaw sections as we careened away for dear life, now +with a zig and then with a zag, seeking safety in drunken flight. When I +reached the deck, steamer and passengers seemed to be doing as well as +could be expected, and even better. + +The periscope was falling astern, and the three hundred passengers, +mostly ambulance drivers and Red Cross nurses, were lined along the +rail, rooting. Some of the girls stood on top of the rail and others +climbed up to the lifeboats, which were as good as a row of boxes. It +was distinctly a home team crowd. Nobody cheered for the submarine. The +only passenger who showed fright was a chap who rushed up and down the +deck loudly shouting: "Don't get excited." + +"Give 'em hell," said a home town fan and shook his fist in the +direction of the submarine. The gunner fired his fourth shot and this +time he was far short in his calculation. + +"It's a question of whether we get her first or she gets us, isn't it?" +asked an old lady in about the tone she would have used in asking a +popular lecturer whether or not he thought Hamlet was really mad. Such +neutrality was beyond me. I couldn't help expressing a fervent hope that +the contest would be won by our steamer. It was the bulliest sort of a +game, and a pleasant afternoon, too, but one passenger was no more than +mildly interested. W. K. Vanderbilt did not put on a life preserver nor +did he leave his deck chair. He sat up just a bit and watched the whole +affair tolerantly. After all the submarine captain was a stranger to +him. + +Our fifth and final shot was the best. It hit the periscope or +thereabouts. The shell did not rebound and there was a patch of oil on +the surface of the water. The beanpole disappeared. The captain left the +bridge and went to the smoking room. He called for cognac. + +"Il est mort," said he, with a sweep of his right hand. + +"He says we sunk her," explained the man who spoke French. + +The captain said the submarine had fired one torpedo and had missed the +steamer by about ninety feet. The U-boat captain must have taken his eye +off the boat, or sliced or committed some technical blunder or other, +for he missed an easy shot. Even German efficiency cannot eradicate the +blessed amateur. May his thumbs never grow less! + +We looked at the chart and found that our ship was more than seven +hundred miles from the nearest land. It seemed a lonely ocean. + +One man came through the crisis with complete triumph. As soon as the +submarine was sighted, the smoking room steward locked the cigar chest +and the wine closet. Not until then did he go below for his lifebelt. + +Reviewing my own emotions, I found that I had not been frightened quite +as badly as I expected. The submarine didn't begin to scare me as much +as the first act of "The Thirteenth Chair," but still I could hardly lay +claim to calm, for I had not spoken one of the appropriate speeches +which came to my mind after the attack. The only thing to which I could +point with pride was the fact that before putting on my lifebelt I +paused to open a box of candy, and went on deck to face destruction, or +what not, with a caramel between my teeth. But before the hour was up I +was sunk indeed. + +It was submarine this and sousmarin that in the smoking room. The +U-boats lurked in every corner. One man had seen two and at the next +table was a chap who had seen three. There was the fellow who had +sighted the periscope first of all, the man who had seen the wake of the +torpedo, and the littlest ambulance driver who had sighted the submarine +through the bathroom window while immersed in the tub. He was the man +who had started for the deck with nothing more about him than a lifebelt +and had been turned back. + +"I wonder," said a passenger, "whether those submarines have wireless? +Do you suppose now that boat could send messages on ahead and ask other +U-boats to look after us?" And just then the gun on the forward deck +went "Bang." + +It was the meanest and most inappropriate sound I ever heard. It was an +anti-climax of the most vicious sort. It was bad form, bad art, bad +everything. I felt a little sick, and one of the contributing emotions +was a sort of fearfully poignant boredom. I tried to remember just what +the law of averages was and to compute as rapidly as possible the +chances of the vessel to complete two more days of travel if attacked by +a submarine every hour. + +"The ocean is full of the damn things," said the man at the next table +petulantly. + +This time the thing was a black object not more than fifty yards away. +The captain signaled the gunner not to fire again and he let it be known +that this was nothing but a barrel. Later it was rumored that it was a +mine, but then there were all sorts of rumors during those last two days +when we ran along with lifeboats swung out. There was much talk of a +convoy, but none appeared. + +Many passengers slept on deck and some went to meals with their +lifebelts on. Everybody jumped when a plate was dropped and there was +always the possibility of starting a panic by slamming a door. And so we +cheered when the steamer came to the mouth of the river which leads to +Bordeaux. We cheered for France from friendship. We cheered from +surprise and joy when the American flag went up to the top of a high +mast and we cheered a little from sheer relief because we had left the +sea and the U-boats behind us. + +They had been with us not a little from the beginning. Even on the first +day out from New York the ship ran with all lights out and portholes +shielded. Later passengers were forbidden to smoke on deck at night and +once there was a lifeboat drill of a sort, but the boats were not swung +out in the davits until after we met the submarine. + +Early in the voyage an old lady complained to the purser because a young +man in the music room insisted on playing the Dead March from "Saul." +There was more cheerful music. The ambulance drivers saw to that. We had +an Amherst unit and one from Leland Stanford and the boys were nineteen +or thereabouts. It is well enough to say that all the romance has gone +out of modern war, but you can't convince a nineteen-year-older of that +when he has his first khaki on his back and his first anti-typhoid +inoculation in his arm. They boasted of these billion germs and they +swaggered and played banjos and sang songs. Mostly they sang at night on +the pitch black upper deck. The littlest ambulance driver had a nice +tenor voice and on still nights he did not care what submarine commander +knew that he "learned about women from her." He and his companions +rocked the stars with "She knifed me one night." Daytimes they studied +French from the ground up. It was the second day out that I heard a +voice from just outside my porthole inquire "E-S-T--what's that and how +do you say it?" Later on the littlest ambulance driver had made marked +progress and was explaining "Mon oncle a une bonne fille, mais mon père +est riche." + +Romance was not hard to find on the vessel. The slow waiter who limped +had been wounded at the Marne, and the little fat stewardess had spent +twenty-two days aboard the German raider _Eitel Friedrich_. There were +French soldiers in the steerage and one of them had the Croix de Guerre +with four palms. He had been wounded three times. + +But when the ship came up the river the littlest ambulance driver--the +one who knew "est" and women--summed things up and decided that he was +glad to be an American. He looked around the deck at the Red Cross +nurses and others who had stood along the rail and cheered in the +submarine fight, and he said: + +"I never would have thought it of 'em. It's kinda nice to know American +women have got so much nerve." + +The littlest ambulance driver drew himself up to his full five feet four +and brushed his new uniform once again. + +"Yes, sir," he said, "we men have certainly got to hand it to the girls +on this boat." And as he went down the gangplank he was humming: "And I +learned about women from her." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE A. E. F. + + +The dawn was gray and so was the ship, but the eye picked her out of the +mist because of two broad yellow stripes which ran the whole length of +the upper decks. As the ship warped into the pier the stripes of yellow +became so many layers of men in khaki, each motionless and each gazing +toward the land. + +"Say," cried a voice across the diminishing strip of water, "what place +is this anyhow?" The reply came back from newspapermen whose only +companions on the pier were two French soldiers and a little group of +German prisoners. + +"Well," said the voice from the ship, "this ought to be better than the +Texas border." + +The American regulars had come to France. + +The two French soldiers looked at the men on the transport and cheered, +flinging their caps in the air. The Germans just looked. They were +engaged in moving rails and after lifting one they would pause and gaze +into space for many minutes until the guards told them to get to work +again. But now the guards were so interested that the Germans prolonged +the rest interval and stared at the ship. News that ships were in was +carried through the town and people came running to the pier. There were +women and children and old men and a few soldiers. + +Nobody had known the Americans were coming. Even the mayor was surprised +and had to run home to get his red sash and his high hat. Children on +the way to school did not go further than the quay, for back of the +ship, creeping into the slip, were other ships with troops and torpedo +boat destroyers and a cruiser. + +Just before the gangplank was lowered the band on the first transport +played "The Star Spangled Banner." The men on the ship stood at +attention. The crowds on shore only watched. They did not know our +national anthem yet. Next the band played "The Marseillaise," and the +hats of the crowd came off. As the last note died away one of the +Americans relaxed from attention and leaned over the rail toward a small +group of newspapermen from America. + +"Do they allow enlisted men to drink in the saloons in this town?" he +asked. + +Somebody else wanted to know, "Is there any place in town where a fellow +can get a piece of pie?" A sailor was anxious to rent a bicycle or a +horse and "ride somewhere." Later the universal question became, "Don't +any of these people speak American?" + +The men were hustled off the ship and marched into the long street which +runs parallel with the docks. They passed within a few feet of the +Germans. There was less than the length of a bayonet between them but +the doughboys did credit to their brief training. They kept their eyes +straight ahead. + +"How do they look?" one of the newspapermen asked a German sergeant in +the group of prisoners. + +"Oh, they look all right," he said professionally, "but you can't tell +yet. I'd want to see them in action first." + +"They don't lift their knees high enough," he added and grinned at his +little joke. + +A French soldier came up then and expostulated. He said that we must not +talk to the Germans and set his prisoners back to their task of lifting +rails. There were guards at both ends of the street, but scores of +children slipped by them and began to talk to the soldiers. There were +hardly half a dozen men in the first regiment who understood French. +Veterans of the Mexican border tried a little bad Spanish and when that +didn't work they fell back to signs. The French made an effort to meet +the visitors half way. I saw a boy extend his reader to a soldier and +explain that a fearfully homely picture which looked like a caterpillar +was a "chenille." The boy added that the chenille was so ugly that it +was without doubt German and no good. Children also pointed out familiar +objects in the book such as "Chats" and "Chiens," but as one soldier +said: "I don't care about those things, sonny: haven't you got a roast +chicken or an apple pie in that book?" + +Some officers had tried to teach their men a little French on the trip +across, but not much seemed to stick. The men were not over curious as +to this strange language. One old sergeant went to his lieutenant and +said: "You know, sir, I've served in China and the Philippines and Cuba. +I've been up against this foreign language proposition before and I know +just what I need. If you'll write down a few words for me and tell me +how they're pronounced I won't have to bother you any more. I want 'Give +me a plate of ham and eggs. How much? What's your name?' and 'Do you +love me, kid?'" + +The vocabulary of the officers did not seem very much more extensive +than that of the men. While the troops were disembarking officers were +striving to get supplies started for the camp several miles outside the +city. All the American motor trucks had been shipped on the slowest +steamer of the convoy but the French came to our aid. "I have just one +order," said the French officer, who met the first unit of the American +Expeditionary Army, "there is no American and no French now. There is +only ours." + +Although the officer was kind enough to make ownership of all available +motor trucks common, he could not do as much for the language of the +poilus who drove them. I found the American motor truck chief hopelessly +entangled. + +"Have you enough gasoline to go to the camp and back?" he inquired of +the driver of the first camion to be loaded. The Frenchman shrugged his +shoulders to indicate that he did not comprehend. The officer smiled +tolerantly and spoke with gentle firmness as if to a wayward child. +"Have you enough gasoline?" he said. Again the Frenchman's shoulders +went up. "Have you enough gasoline?" repeated the officer, only this +time he spoke loudly and fiercely as if talking to his wife. Even yet +the Frenchman did not understand. Inspiration came to the American +officer. Suddenly he gesticulated with both hands and began to imitate +George Beban as the French waiter in one of the old Weber and Fields +shows. "'Ave you enough of ze gaz-o-leene?" he piped mincingly. Then an +interpreter came. + +After several companies had disembarked the march to camp began, up the +main street and along the fine shore road which skirts the bay. The band +struck up "Stars and Stripes Forever" and away they went. They did not +march well, these half green companies who had rolled about the seas so +long, but they held the eyes of all and the hearts of some. They +glorified even cheap tunes such as "If You Don't Like Your Uncle Sammy +Go Back to Your Home Across the Sea," and Sousa seemed a very master of +fire when the men paraded to his marches. These American units did not +give the impression of compactness which one gets from Frenchmen on the +march. The longer stride gives the doughboy an uneven gait. He looks +like a man walking across a plowed field and yet you cannot miss a sense +of power. You feel that he will get there even if his goal is the red +sun itself at the back of the hills. + +There was no long drawn cheer from the people who lined the streets to +see the Americans pass. Even crowds in Paris do not cheer like that. +Instead individuals called out phrases of greeting and there was much +handclapping. Although mixed in point of service the men ran to type as +far as build went. They amazed the French by their height, although some +of the organizations which followed the first division are better +physically. Of course these American troops are actually taller than the +French and in addition they are thin enough to accentuate their height. +It was easy to pick out the youngsters, most of whom found their packs a +little heavy. They would stand up straighter though when an old sergeant +moved alongside and growled a word or two. It was easy to see that these +sergeants were of the old army. They were all lank men, boiled red from +within and without. They had put deserts and jungles under foot and no +distance would seem impossible for them along the good roads of France. + +As ship after ship came in more troops marched to camp. The streets were +filled with the clatter of the big boots of doughboys throughout the +morning and well into the afternoon. There were American army mules, +too, and although the natives had seen the animal before in French +service, he attracted no end of attention. In his own particular army +the mule seems more picturesque. He has never learned French. It seems +to break his spirit, but he pranced and kicked and played the very devil +under the stimulus of the loud endearments of the American mule drivers. + +The French were also interested in a company of American negroes +specially recruited for stevedore service. The negroes had been +outfitted with old cavalry overcoats of a period shortly after the Civil +War. They were blue coats with gold buttons and the lining was a +tasteful but hardly somber shade of crimson. Nor were the negroes +without picturesque qualities even when they had shed their coats and +gone to work. Their working shirts of white were inked all over with +pious sentences calculated to last through the submarine zone, but piety +was mixed. One big negro, for instance, had written upon his shirt: +"The Lord is my shepherd," but underneath he had drawn a large starfish +for luck. A few daring ones had ornamented themselves with skulls and +crossbones. To the negroes fell the bitterest disappointment of the +American landing in France. Two Savannah stevedores caught sight of a +black soldier in the French uniform and rushed up to exchange greetings. +The Senegalese shrugged his shoulders and turned away from the flood of +English. + +"That," said one of the American darkies, "is the most ignorantest and +stuck up nigger I ever did see." They were not yet ready to believe that +the negro race had let itself in for the amazing complications of a +foreign language. + +Later in the day the town was full of the eddies which occur when two +languages meet head on, for almost all the soldiers and sailors received +leave to come to town. They wanted beer and champagne and cognac, +chocolate, cake, crackers, pears, apples, cherries, picture postcards, +sardines, rings, cigarettes, and books of French and English phrases. +The phrase books were usually an afterthought, so commerce was +conducted with difficulty. A few of the shopkeepers equipped themselves +with dictionaries and painstakingly worked out the proper reply for each +customer. Signs were much more effective and when it came to purchase, +the sailor or soldier simply held out a handful of American money and +the storekeeper took a little. To the credit of the shopkeepers of the +nameless port, let it be said that they seemed in every case to take no +more than an approximation of the right amount. Fortunately the late +unpleasantness at Babel was not absolutely thoroughgoing and there are +words in French which offer no great difficulty to the American. The +entente cordiale is furthered by words such as "chocolat," "sandwich," +"biere" and "bifstek." The difficulties of "vin" are not insurmountable +either. + +"A funny people," was the comment of one doughboy, "when I ask for +'sardines' I get 'em all right, but when I say 'cheese' or 'canned +peaches' I don't get anything." + +Another complained, "I don't understand these people at all. They spell +some of their words all right, but they haven't got the sense to say 'em +that way." He could see no reason why "vin" should sound like "van." + +Another objection of the invading army was that the townsfolk demanded +whole sentences of French. Mixtures seemed incomprehensible to them and +the officer who kept crying out, "Madame, where are my oeufs?" got no +satisfaction whatever. + +Late in the afternoon phrase books began to appear, but they did not +help a great deal because by the time the right phrase had been found +some fellow who used only sign language had slipped in ahead of the +student. Then, too, some of the books seemed hardly adapted for present +conditions. One officer was distinctly annoyed because the first +sentence he found in a chapter headed war terms was, "Where is the grand +stand?" But the book which seemed to fall furthest short of promise was +a pamphlet entitled, "Just the French You Want to Know." + +"Look at this," said an indignant owner. "Le travail assure la santé et +la bien-être, il élève et fortifie l'âme, il adoucit les souffrances, +chasse l'ennui, et plaisir sans pareil, il est encore le sel des autres +plaisirs. Go on with it. Look at what all that means--'Work assures +health and well being, it elevates and fortifies the soul, drives away +ennui, alleviates suffering, and, a pleasure without an equal, it is +still the salt of all other pleasures'--what do you think of that? Just +the French you want to know! I don't want to address the graduating +class, I want to tell a barber to leave it long on top, but trim it +pretty close around the edges." + +The happy purchaser of the book did not throw it away, however, until he +turned to the chapter headed "At the Tailor's" and found that the first +sentence set down in French meant, "The bodice is too tight in front, +and it is uncomfortable under the arms. It is a little too low-necked, +and the sleeves are not wide enough." + +Sundown sent most of the soldiers scurrying back to camp, but the port +lacked no life that night, for sailors came ashore in increasing numbers +and American officers were everywhere. The two hotels--the Grand and +the Grand Hotel des Messageries, known to the army as the Grand and +Miserable Hotel--were thronged. Generals and Admirals rushed about to +conferences and in the middle of all the confusion a young second +lieutenant sat at the piano in the parlor of the Grand and played +Schumann's "Warum" over and over again as if his heart would break for +homesickness. The sailors and a few soldiers who seemed to have business +in the town had no trouble in making themselves at home. + +"Mademoiselle, donnez moi un baiser, s'il vous plait," said one of the +apt pupils to the pretty barmaid at the Café du Centre. + +But she said: "Mais non." + +Crowds began to collect just off the main street. I hurried over to one +group of sailors, convinced that something important was going on, since +French soldiers and civilians stood about six deep. History was being +made indeed. For the first time "craps" was being played on French +soil. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +LAFAYETTE, NOUS VOILÀ + + +The navy was the first to take Paris. While the doughboys were still at +the port crowding themselves into camp, lucky sailors were on their way +to let the French capital see the American uniform. I came up on the +night train with a crowd of them. Their pockets bulged with money, tins +of salmon, ham and truffled chicken. They had chocolate in their hats +and boxes of fancy crackers under their arms, while cigars and +cigarettes poked out of their blouses. They would have nothing to do +with French tobacco, but favored a popular American brand which sells +for a quarter in New York and twice as much over here. One almost +expected each sailor to produce a roast turkey or a pheasant from up his +sleeve at meal time, but it was pretty much all meal time for these men +who were making their shore leave an intensive affair. One was a very +new sailor and he was rejoicing to find land under his feet again. + +"Oh, boy!" he said, when I asked him about his ship, "that old tub had +two more movements than a hula dancer." + +The little group in my compartment was sampling some champagne which +hospitable folk at the port had given them. It was not real champagne, +to be sure, but a cheaper white wine with twice as many bubbles and at +least as much noise. It sufficed very well, since it was ostentation +rather than thirst which spurred the sailors on and they spread their +hospitality throughout the train. A few French soldiers headed back for +the trenches were the traveling companions of the Americans. The poilus +were decidedly friendly but somewhat amazed at the big men who made so +much noise with their jokes and their songs. Of course the French were +called upon to sample the various tinned and bottled goods which the +sailors were carrying. It was "have a swig of this, Froggy" or "get +yourself around that, Frenchy." The Americans were still just a bit +condescending to their brothers in arms. They had not yet seen them in +action. Of course there was much comparison of equipment and the sailors +all tried on the trench helmets of the French and found them too small. +The entente grew and presently there was an allied concert. The sailors +sang, "What a Wonderful Mother You'd Make," and the French replied with +the Verdun song, "Ils Ne Passeront Pas," and later with "Madelon." + +I heard that song many times afterwards and it always brings to mind a +picture of dusty French soldiers marching with their short, quick, eager +stride. They are always dusty. All summer long they wear big overcoats +which come below the knee. Dust settles and multiplies and if you see a +French regiment marching in the spring rainy season, it will still be +dusty. Perhaps their souls are a little dusty now, but it is French +dust. And as they march they sing as the men sang to the newly arrived +Americans in the train that night: + + For all the soldiers, on their holidays, + There is a place, just tucked in by the woods, + A house with ivy growing on the walls-- + A cabaret--"Aux Toulourous"--the goods! + The girl who serves is young and sweet as love, + She's light as any butterfly in Spring, + Her eyes have got a sparkle like her wine. + We call her Madelon--it's got a swing! + The soldiers' girl! She leads us all a dance! + She's only Madelon, but she's Romance! + + When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks, + We always know she's coming by her song! + And every man, he tells his little tale, + And Madelon, she listens all day long. + Our Madelon is never too severe-- + A kiss or two is nothing much to her-- + She laughs us up to love and life and God-- + Madelon! Madelon! Madelon! + + We all have girls for keeps that wait at home + Who'll marry us when fighting time is done; + But they are far away--too far to tell + What happens in these days of cut-and-run. + We sigh away such days as best we can, + And pray for time to bring us nearer home, + But tales like ours won't wait till then to tell-- + We have to run and boast to Madelon. + We steal a kiss--she takes it all in play; + We dream she is that other--far away. + A corp'ral with a feather in his cap + Went courting Madelon one summer's day, + And, mad with love, he swore she was superb, + And he would wed her any day she'd say. + But Madelon was not for any such-- + She danced away and laughed: "My stars above! + Why, how could I consent to marry you, + When I have my whole regiment to love? + I could not choose just one and leave the rest. + I am the soldiers' girl--I like that best!" + + When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks, + We always know she's coming by her song! + And every man, he tells his little tale, + And Madelon, she listens all day long. + Our Madelon is never too severe-- + A kiss or two is nothing much to her-- + She laughs us up to love and life and God-- + Madelon! Madelon! Madelon! + +When the train came into Paris early the next morning the sailors were +singing the chorus with the poilus. They parted company at the quai +d'Orsay. The soldiers went to the front; the sailors turned to Paris. It +was a Paris such as no one had ever seen before. The "bannière etoilée" +was everywhere. We call it the Stars and Stripes. Little flags were +stuck rakishly behind the ears of disreputable Parisian cab horses; +bigger flags were in the windows of the shops and on top of buildings, +but the biggest American flag of all hung on the Strassburg monument +which shed its mourning when the war began. + +Two days later all the flags were fluttering, for on the morning of the +third of July the doughboys came to Paris. It made no difference that +they were only a battalion. When the French saw them they thought of +armies and of new armies, for these were the first soldiers in many +months who smiled as they marched. The train was late, but the crowd +waited outside the Gare d'Austerlitz for more than two hours. French Red +Cross nurses were waiting at the station, and the doughboys had their +first experience with French rations, for they began the long day with +"petit déjeuner." Men brought up on ham and eggs and flapjacks and +oatmeal and even breakfast pie, found war bread and coffee a scant +repast, but the ration proved more popular than was expected when it was +found that the coffee was charged with cognac. It was a stronger +stimulant, though, which sent the men up on the tips of their toes as +they swung down the street covering thirty-two inches with each stride. +For the first time they heard the roar of a crowd. It was not the steady +roar such as comes from American throats. It was split up into "Vive les +Etats Unis!" and "Vive l'Amérique!" with an occasional "Vive le +President Wilson!" This appearance was only a dress rehearsal and the +troops were hurried through little frequented streets to a barracks to +await the morning of the Fourth. + +Paris began the great day by waking Pershing with music. The band of the +republican guard was at the gate of his house a little after eight +o'clock. The rest of Paris seemed to have had no trouble in arousing +itself without music, for already several hundred thousand persons were +crowded about the General's hotel. First there were trumpets; then +brasses blared and drums rumbled. The General proved himself a light +sleeper and a quick dresser. Before the last note of the fanfare died +away he was at the window and bowing to the crowd. This time there was a +solid roar, for everybody shouted "Vive Pershing." The band cut through +the din. There were a few strange variations and uncertainties in the +tune, but it was unmistakably "The Star Spangled Banner." Only a handful +in the crowd knew the American National anthem, but they shouted +"Chapeau, chapeau" so hard that everybody took up the cry and took off +his hat. There was a fine indefinite noisy roar which would have done +credit to a double header crowd at the Polo Grounds when Pershing left +his hotel for the "Invalides," where the march of the Americans was to +begin. It was pleasant to observe at that moment that our commander has +as straight a back as any man in the allied armies can boast. + +At least four hundred thousand people were crowded around the +"Invalides." They had plenty of chance to shout. They were able to keep +their enthusiasm within bounds when first Poincaré appeared and then +Painlevé. The next celebrity was Papa Joffre and hats went into the air. +There was an interval of waiting then and a bit of a riot. An old man +who found the elbows of his neighbors disagreeable, exclaimed: "Oh, let +me have peace!" Somebody who heard the word "peace" shouted: "He's a +pacifist," and people near at hand began to hit at him. He was saved by +the coming of the American soldiers. "Vive les Teddies," shouted the +crowd and forgot the old man. + +The crowd made way for the Americans as they marched toward the +"Invalides" and into the court yard where the trophies won from the +Germans are displayed. "You will bring more from the Boche," shouted a +Frenchman. French and American flags floated above the guns and +aeroplanes and minenwerfers. During the short ceremony the American +soldiers looked about curiously at the trophies and up at the dome above +the tomb of Napoleon. Many knew him by reputation and some had heard +that he was buried there. + +After a short ceremony the Americans marched out of the "Invalides" and +toward the Picpus cemetery. The crowds had increased. It was hard +marching now. French children ran in between the legs of the soldiers. +French soldiers and civilians crowded in upon them. It was impossible to +keep ranks. Now the men in khaki were just a little brown stream +twisting and turning in an effort to get onward. People threw roses at +the soldiers and they stuffed them into their hats and in the gun +barrels. It was reported from several sources that one or two soldiers +who were forced out of ranks were kissed, but no one would admit it +afterwards. The youngsters in the ranks tried their best to keep a +military countenance. They endeavored to achieve an expression which +should be polite but firm, an air of having been through the same +experience many times before. Only one or two old sergeants succeeded. +The rest blushed under the cheers and entangling interest of the crowd +and they could not keep the grins away when people shouted "Vive les +Teddies" or threw roses at them. On that morning it was great to be +young and a doughboy. + +On and on they went past high walls and gardens to the edge of the city +to a cemetery. There were speeches here and they were mostly French. +Ribot spoke and Painlevé and Pershing. His was English and he said: "I +hope, and I would like to say it that here on the soil of France and in +the school of the French heroes, our American soldiers may learn to +battle and to vanquish for the liberty of the world." + +But the speech which left the deepest impression was the shortest of +all. Colonel Stanton stood before the tomb of Lafayette and made a +quick, sharp gesture which was broad enough to include the youngsters +from Alabama and Texas and Massachusetts and Ohio and the rest. +"Lafayette, we're here!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FRANCO-AMERICAN HONEYMOON + + +The day after the Americans marched in Paris one of the French +newspapers referred to the doughboys as "Roman Cæsars clad in khaki." +The city set itself to liking the soldiers and everything American and +succeeded admirably. Even the taxicab drivers refrained from +overcharging Americans very much. School children studied the history of +America and "The Star Spangled Banner." There were pictures of President +Wilson and General Pershing in many shops and some had framed +translations of the President's message to Congress. In fact, so eager +were the French to take America to their hearts that they even made +desperate efforts to acquire a working knowledge of baseball. +_Excelsior_, an illustrated French daily, carried an action picture +taken during a game played between American ambulance drivers just +outside of Paris. The picture was entitled: "A player goes to catch the +ball, which has been missed by the catcher," and underneath ran the +following explanation: "We have given in our number of yesterday the +rules of baseball, the American national game, of which a game, which is +perhaps the first ever played in France, took place yesterday at +Colombes between the soldiers of the American ambulances. Here is an +aspect of the game. The pitcher, or thrower of balls, whom one sees in +the distance, has sent the ball. The catcher, or 'attrapeur,' who should +restrike the ball with his wooden club, has missed it, and a player +placed behind him has seized it in its flight." + +The next day _L'Intransigeant_ undertook the even more hazardous task of +explaining American baseball slang. During the parade on the Fourth of +July some Americans had greeted the doughboys with shouts of "ataboy." A +French journalist heard and was puzzled. He returned to his office and +looked in English dictionaries and various works of reference without +enlightenment. Several English friends were unable to help him and an +American who had lived in Paris for thirty years was equally at sea. But +the reporter worked it out all by himself and the next day he wrote: +"Parisians have been puzzled by the phrase 'ataboy' which Americans are +prone to employ in moments of stress or emotion. The phrase is +undoubtedly a contraction of 'at her boy' and may be closely +approximated by 'au travail, garçon.'" The writer followed with a brief +history of the friendly relations of France and America and paid a +glowing tribute to the memory of Lafayette. + +The name for the American soldiers gave the French press and public no +end of trouble. They began enthusiastically enough by calling them the +"Teddies," but General Pershing, when interviewed one day, said that he +did not think this name quite fitting as it had "no national +significance." The French then followed the suggestion of one of the +American correspondents and began to call the soldiers "Sammies," or as +the French pronounce it, "Sammees." Although this name received much +attention in French and American newspapers it has never caught the +fancy of the soldiers in the American Expeditionary Army. Officers and +men cordially despise it and no soldier ever refers to himself or a +comrade as a "Sammy." American officers have not been unmindful of the +usefulness of a name for our soldiers. Major General Sibert, who +commanded the first division when it arrived in France, posted a notice +at headquarters which read: "The English soldier is called Tommy. The +French soldier is called poilu. The Commanding General would like +suggestions for a name for the American soldier." At the end of the week +the following names had been written in answer to the General's request: +"Yank, Yankee, Johnnie, Johnny Yank, Broncho, Nephew, Gringo, Liberty +Boy, Doughboy." + +Now Doughboy is a name which the soldiers use, but strictly speaking, it +refers only to an infantryman. The origin of the name is shrouded in +mystery. One officer, probably an infantryman, has written, that the +infantrymen are called doughboys because they are the flower of the +army. Another story has it that during some maneuvers in Texas an +artilleryman, comfortably perched on a gun, saw a soldier hiking by in +the thick sticky Texas mud. The mud was up to the shoetops of the +infantryman and the upper part which had dried looked almost white. +"Say," shouted the artilleryman, "what've you been doing? Walking in +dough?" And so the men who march have been doughboys ever since. + +Paris did not let the lack of a name come between her and the soldiers. +The theaters gave the Americans almost as much recognition as the press. +No musical show was complete without an American finale and each +soubrette learned a little English, "I give you kees," or something like +that, to please the doughboys. The vaudeville shows, such as those +provided at the Olympia or the Alhambra, gave an even greater proportion +of English speech. The Alhambra was filled with Tommies and doughboys on +the night I went. Now and again the comedians had lapses of language and +the Americans were forced to let jokes go zipping by without response. +It was a pity, too, for they were good jokes even if French. Presently, +however, a fat comedian fell off a ladder and laughter became general +and international. The show was more richly endowed with actresses than +actors. The management was careful to state that all the male performers +had fulfilled their military obligations. Thus, under the picture of +Maurice Chevalier, a clever comedian and dancer, one read that Mons. +Chevalier was wounded at the battle of Cutry, when a bullet passed +between his lungs. The story added that he was captured by the Germans +and held prisoner for twenty-six months before he escaped. It did not +seem surprising therefore that Chevalier should be the gayest of funny +men. Twenty-six months of imprisonment would work wonders with ever so +many comedians back home. + +And yet we Americans missed the old patter until there came a breath +from across the sea. A low comedian came out and said to his partner in +perfectly good English: "Well, didja like the show?" His partner said he +didn't like the show. "Well, didja notice the trained seals?" persisted +the low comedian and the lower comedian answered: "No, the wind was +against 'em." Laughter long delayed overcame us then, but it was mingled +with tears. We felt that we were home again. The French are a wonderful +people and all that, of course, but they're so darn far away. + +Later there was a man who imitated Eddie Foy imperfectly and a bad +bicycle act in which the performers called the orchestra leader +"Professor" and shouted "Ready" to each other just before missing each +trick. This bucked the Americans up so much that a lapse into French +with Suzanne Valroger "dans son repertoire" failed to annoy anybody very +much. The doughboys didn't care whether she came back with her +repertoire or on it. Some Japanese acrobats and a Swedish contortionist +completed the performance. There are two such international music halls +in Paris as well as a musical comedy of a sort called "The Good Luck +Girl." The feature of this performance is an act in which a young lady +swings over the audience and invites the soldiers to capture the shoe +dangling from her right foot. The shoe is supposed to be very lucky and +soldiers try hard to get it, standing up in their seats and snatching as +the girl swings by. An American sergeant was the winner the night I went +to the show, for he climbed upon a comrade's shoulder and had the +slipper off before the girl had time to swing out very far. Later, when +he went to the trenches, the sergeant took the shoe with him and he says +that up to date he has no reason to doubt the value of the charm. + +The most elaborate spectacle inspired by the coming of the Americans was +at the Folies Bergères which sent its chorus out for the final number +all spangled with stars. The leader of the chorus was an enormous woman, +at least six feet tall, who carried an immense American flag. She almost +took the head off a Canadian one night as he dozed in a stage box and +failed to notice the violent manner in which the big flag was being +swung. He awoke just in time to dodge and then he shook an accusing +finger at the Amazon. "Why aren't you in khaki?" he said. + +Restaurants as well as theaters were liberally sprinkled with men in the +American uniform. The enlisted men ate for the most part in French +barracks and seemed to fare well enough, although one doughboy, after +being served with spinach as a separate course, complained: "I do wish +they'd get all the stuff on the table at once like we do in the army. I +don't want to be surprised, I want to be fed." A young first lieutenant +was scornful of French claims to master cookery. "Why, they don't know +how to fry eggs," he said. "I've asked for fried eggs again and again +and do you know what they do? They put 'em in a little dish and bake +'em." + +Yet, barring this curious and barbarous custom in the cooking of eggs, +the French chefs were able to charm the palates of Americans even in a +year which bristled with food restrictions. There were two meatless days +a week, sugar was issued in rations of a pound a month per person and +bread was gray and gritty. The French were always able to get around +these handicaps. The food director, for instance, called the ice cream +makers together and ordered them to cease making their product in order +to save sugar. + +"We have been using a substitute for sugar for seven months," replied +the merchants. + +"Well, then," said the food director, "it will save eggs." + +"We have hit upon a method which makes eggs unnecessary," replied the +ice cream makers. + +"At any rate," persisted the food director, "my order will save +unnecessary consumption of milk." + +"We use a substitute for that, too," the confectioners answered, and +they were allowed to go on with their trade. + +The cooks are even more ingenious than the confectioners. As long as +they have the materials with which to compound sauces, meat makes little +difference. War bread might be terrapin itself after a French chef has +softened and sabled it with thick black dressing. Americans found that +the French took food much more seriously than we do in America. Patrons +always reviewed the _carte du jour_ carefully before making a selection. +It was not enough to get something which would do. The meal would fall +something short of success if the diner did not succeed in getting what +he wanted most. No waiter ever hurried a soldier who was engaged in the +task of composing a dinner. He might be a man who was going back to the +trenches the next day and in such a case this last good meal would not +be a matter to be entered upon lightly. After all, if it is a last +dinner a man wants to consider carefully, whether he shall order +_contrefilet à la Bourguignon_ or _poulet roti à l'Espagnol_. + +Whatever may be his demeanor while engaged in the business of making war +or ordering a meal, the Frenchman makes his permission a real vacation. +He talks a good deal of shop. The man at the next table is telling of a +German air raid, only, naturally, he calls them Boches. A prison camp, +he explains, was brilliantly illuminated so that the Boche prisoners +might not escape under the cover of darkness. One night the enemy +aviators came over that way and mistook the prison camp for a railroad +station. They dropped a number of bombs and killed ten of their +comrades. Everybody at the soldier's table regarded this as a good joke, +more particularly as the narrator vivified the incident by rolling his +war bread into pellets and bombarding the table by way of illustration, +accompanied by loud cries of "Plop! Plop!" + +Practically every man on permission in Paris is making love to someone +and usually in an open carriage or at the center table of a large +restaurant. Nobody even turns around to look if a soldier walks along a +street with his arm about a girl's waist. American officers, however, +frowned on such exhibitions of demonstrativeness by doughboys and in one +provincial town a colonel issued an order: "American soldiers will not +place their arms around the waists of young ladies while walking in any +of the principal thoroughfares of this town." + +Still it was not possible to regulate romance entirely out of existence. +"There was a girl used to pass my car every morning," said a sergeant +chauffeur, "and she was so good looking that I got a man to teach me +_'bon jour,'_ and I used to smile at her and say that when she went by +and she'd say _'bon jour'_ and smile back. One morning I got an apple +and I handed it to her and said '_pour vous_' like I'd been taught. She +took it and came right back with, 'Oh, I'm ever so much obliged,' and +there like a chump I'd been holding myself down to '_bon jour_' for two +weeks." + +There could be no question of the devotion of Paris to the American +army. Indeed, so rampant was affection that it was occasionally +embarrassing. One officer slipped in alighting from the elevator of his +hotel and sprained his ankle rather badly. He was hobbling down one of +the boulevards that afternoon with the aid of a cane when a large +automobile dashed up to the curb and an elderly French lady who was the +sole occupant beckoned to him and cried: "_Premier blessé_." The officer +hesitated and a man who was passing stepped up and said: "May I +interpret for you?" The officer said he would be much obliged. The +volunteer interpreter talked to the old lady for a moment and then he +turned and explained: "Madame is desirous of taking you in her car +wherever you want to go, because she says she is anxious to do something +for the first American soldier wounded on the soil of France." + +The devotion of Paris was so obvious that it palled on one or two who +grew fickle. I saw a doughboy sitting in front of the Café de la Paix +one bright afternoon. He was drinking champagne of a sort and smoking a +large cigar. The sun shone on one of the liveliest streets of a still +gay Paris. It was a street made brave with bright uniforms. Brighter +eyes of obvious non-combatants gazed at him with admiration. I was +sitting at the next table and I leaned over and asked: "How do you like +Paris?" + +He let the smoke roll lazily out of his mouth and shook his head. "I +wish I was back in El Paso," he said. + +I found another soldier who was longing for Terre Haute. Him I came upon +in the lounging room of a music hall called the Olympia. Two palpably +pink ladies sat at the bar drinking cognac. From his table a few feet +away the American soldier looked at them with high disfavor. Surprise, +horror and indignation swept across his face in three waves as the one +called Julie began to puff a cigarette after giving a light to Margot. +He looked away at last when he could stand no more, and recognizing me +as a fellow countryman, he began his protest. + +"I don't like this Paris," he said. "I'm in the medical corps," he +continued. "My home's in Terre Haute. In Indiana, you know. I worked in +a drug store there before I joined the army. I had charge of the biggest +soda fountain in town. We used to have as many as three men working +there in summer sometimes. Right at a good business corner, you know. I +suppose we had almost as many men customers as ladies." + +"Why don't you like Paris?" I interrupted. + +"Well, it's like this," he answered. "Nobody can say I'm narrow. I +believe in people having a good time, but----" and he leaned nearer +confidentially, "I don't like this Bohemia. I'd heard about it, of +course, but I didn't know it was so bad. You see that girl there, the +one in the blue dress smoking a cigarette, sitting right up to the bar. +Well, you may believe it or not, but when I first sat down she came +right over here and said, 'Hello, American. You nice boy. I nice girl. +You buy me a drink.' I never saw her before in my life, you understand, +and I didn't even look at her till she spoke to me. I told her to go +away or I'd call a policeman and have her arrested. I've been in Paris a +week now, but I don't think I'll ever get used to this Bohemia business. +It's too effusive, that's what I call it. I'd just like to see them try +to get away with some of that business in Terre Haute." + +Some of the visiting soldiers took more kindly to Paris as witness the +plaint of a middle-aged Franco-American in the employ of the Y. M. C. +A.: + +"I'm a guide for the Young Men's Christian Association here in Paris," +he said, "but I'm a little bit afraid I'm going to lose my job. They +make up parties of soldiers at the Y. M. C. A. headquarters every day +and turn them over to me to show around the city. Well, Monday I started +out with twelve and came back with five and today I finished up with +three out of eight. I can't help it. I've got no authority over them, +and if they want to leave the party, what can I do? But it makes trouble +for me at headquarters. Now, today, for instance, I took them first of +all to the Place Vendome. There were seven infantrymen and an +artilleryman. They seemed to be interested in the column when I told +them that it was made out of cannon captured by Napoleon. They wanted to +know how many cannon it took and what caliber they were and all that. +Everything went all right until we started for the Madeleine. We passed +a café on the way and one of the soldiers asked: 'What's this "vin" I +see around on shops?' I told him that it was the French word for wine +and that it was pronounced almost like our word 'van' only a little bit +more nasal. They all looked at the sign then, and another soldier said: +'I suppose that "bières" there is "beers," isn't it?' + +"I told him that it was and another guessed that 'brune ou blonde' must +mean 'dark or light.' When I said that it did, he wanted to know if he +couldn't stop and have one. I told him that I couldn't wait for him, as +the whole trip was on a schedule and we had to be at the Madeleine at +three o'clock. 'Well,' he said, 'I guess it'll be there tomorrow,' and +he went into the café. Another soldier said: 'Save a "blonde" for me,' +and followed him, and that was two gone. + +"After I had showed the rest the Madeleine I told them that I was going +to take them to St. Augustin. The artilleryman wanted to know if that +was another church. I said it was and he said he guessed he'd had enough +for a day. I tried to interest him in the paintings in the chapel by +Bouguereau and Brisset, but he said he wasn't used to walking so much +anyway. He was no doughboy, he said, and he left us. We lost another +fellow at Maxim's and the fifth one disappeared in broad daylight on the +Boulevard Malesherbes. He can count up to twenty in French and he knows +how to say: 'Oú est l'hotel St. Anne?' which is army headquarters, so I +guess he's all right, but I haven't an idea in the world what became of +him." + +The high tide in the American conquest of Paris came one afternoon in +July. I got out of a taxicab in front of the American headquarters in +the Rue Constantine and found that a big crowd had gathered in the +Esplanade des Invalides. Now and again the crowd would give ground to +make room for an American soldier running at top speed. One of them +stood almost at the entrance of the courtyard of "Invalides." His back +was turned toward the tomb of Napoleon and he was knocking out flies in +the direction of the Seine. Unfortunately it was a bit far to the river +and no baseball has yet been knocked into that stream. It was a new +experience for Napoleon though. He has heard rifles and machine guns and +other loud reports in the streets of Paris, but for the first time there +came to his ears the loud sharp crack of a bat swung against a baseball. +Since he could not see from out the tomb the noise may have worried the +emperor. Perhaps he thought it was the British winning new battles on +other cricket fields. But again he might not worry about that now. He +might hop up on one toe as a French caricaturist pictured him and cry: +"Vive l'Angleterre." + +One of the men in the crowd which watched the batting practice was a +French soldier headed back for the front. At any rate he had his steel +helmet on and his equipment was on his back. His stripes showed that he +had been in the war three years and he had the croix de guerre with two +palms and the medaille militaire. His interest in the game grew so high +at last that he put down his pack and his helmet and joined the +outfielders. The second or third ball hit came in his direction. He ran +about in a short circle under the descending ball and at the last moment +he thrust both hands in front of his face. The ball came between them +and hit him in the nose, knocking him down. + +His nose was a little bloody, but he was up in an instant grinning. He +left the field to pick up his trench hat and his equipment. The +Americans shouted to him to come back. He understood the drift of their +invitation, but he shook his head. "C'est dangéreux," he said, and +started for the station to catch his train for the front. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WITHIN SOUND OF THE GUNS + + +The men had traveled to Paris in passenger coaches, but when it came +time to move the first division to its training area in the Vosges our +soldiers rode like all the other allied armies in the famous cars upon +which are painted "Hommes 36; chevaux en long, 8." And, of course, +anybody who knows French understands the caption to mean that the horses +must be put in lengthwise and not folded. No restrictions are mentioned +as to the method of packing the "hommes." + +The journey lay through gorgeous rolling country which was all a sparkle +at this season of the year. Presently the vineyards were left behind and +the hills became higher. Now and again there were fringes of pine trees. +At one point it was possible to see a French captive balloon floating +just beyond the hilltops, but we could not hear the guns yet. French +soldiers in troop trains and camps near the track cheered the Americans +and even a few of the Germans inside a big stockade waved at the men who +were moving forward to study war. The trains stopped at a little town +which lay at the foot of a hill. It was a mean little town, but on the +hill was the fine old tower of a castle which had once dominated the +surrounding country. + +From this town, which was chosen as divisional headquarters, regiments +were sent northeast and northwest into tiny villages which were no more +than a single line of houses along the roadway. A few one-story wooden +barracks had been built for the Americans, but ninety per cent. of the +men went into billets. They were quartered in the lofts of barns of the +better sort. The billeting officers would not consider sheds where +cattle had been kept. Few troops had been quartered in this part of the +country previously and so the barns were moderately clean. + +The effort to make cleanliness and sanitation something more than +relative terms was the first thing which really threatened +Franco-American amity. The decision of American officers that all manure +piles must be removed from in front of dwelling houses met a startled +and universal protest. Elderly Frenchwomen explained with great feeling +that the manure piles had been there as long as they could remember and +that no one had ever come to any harm from them. The American officers +insisted, and at last a grudging consent was forced. I saw one old lady +almost on the point of tears as she watched the invaders demolish her +manure pile. At last she could stand no more. "They make a lot of dust," +she said critically, and went into the house. + +A few days after the Americans arrived in camp came their instructors. A +crack division of Alpine Chasseurs was chosen to teach the Americans. +Nobody called these men froggies. They called them "chassers." It was +enough to see them march to know that they were fighting men. Their +stride was short and quick. Each step was taken as if the marcher was +eager to have it over and done with so that he could take another. Even +their buglers won admiration, for they had a trick of throwing their +instruments in the air and catching them again that brought envy to the +heart of every American band. Indeed, a good deal of friendly rivalry +developed from the beginning and in the early days, at least, the French +had all the better of it. They could lift heavier weights than our men, +who averaged much younger. Little Frenchmen standing five feet three or +four would seize a rifle close to the end of the bayonet and slowly +raise it with stiff arm to horizontal and down again. American farmer +boys tried and failed. Of course, this was a crack French division which +drew its men from various organizations, while our division was just the +average lot and perhaps not quite that since there was a larger +percentage of recruits than is usually found in the regular army. + +Although our men were somewhat outclassed by their instructors in these +early days, they were game in their effort to keep up competition. +Almost the first work to which the troops were set was trench digging. +This is one of the most important arts of war and also the most +tiresome. Somebody has said of the Canadians: "They will die in the last +ditch, but they won't dig it." The Americans have a similar aversion for +work with pick and shovel, but trench digging came to them as a +competition. I saw a battalion of the chasseurs and a battalion of +marines set to work in a field where every other blow of the pick hit a +rock. There was no chance to loaf, for when a marine looked over his +shoulder he could see the French picks going for dear life down at the +other end of the trench. At four-thirty the men were told to call it a +day. The chasseurs leaped out of their trench; threw down their tools, +and began to sing at top voice a popular Parisian love ditty entitled +"Il faut de l'amour." One of the French officers told me afterwards that +it was the invariable custom of his men to sing at the end of work, but +the marines thought the "chassers" were merely showing off the excellent +nature of their wind. More slowly the Americans clambered out of their +trench, but they were ready when the last French note died away and +piped up somewhat breathlessly: "Hail! Hail! the gang's all here!" + +American company commanders were quick to appreciate the value of +organized singing in the training of troops, and for the next few days +the doughboys were drilled to lift their voices as well as their picks. +Most of all, music was appreciated in the long hikes of the early +training period. A good song did much to make a marching man forget that +he had a fifty-pound pack on his back. + +"I know I'm beginning to get a real company now," one captain told me, +"because whenever they're beginning to feel tired they start to sing and +freshen up." "No," he said, in reply to a question, "they didn't just +start. It needed a little fixing. I noticed that when the Frenchmen +stopped work they always started back to camp singing. 'We can do that,' +I told my men when we started back. 'Let's hear a little noise.' Nothing +happened. Nobody wanted to begin. They were scared the others would +laugh at them. I can't carry a tune two feet, but I just struck up +'We'll hang the damned old Kaiser to a sour apple tree' to the tune of +'John Brown's Body.' A few joined in, but most of them wouldn't open +their mouths. I told 'em, 'I'm just going to keep on marching this +company until everybody's in on the song. I don't care if we have to +march all night.' That got 'em going. Now they like it. They're thinking +up new songs every day. I can save my voice now." + +One of the reasons for sending the men into the Vosges for training was +to get them within sound of the guns, but it was almost a week before we +heard any of the doings at the front. It was at night time that we first +heard the guns. It was a still, windless night and along about eight +o'clock they began. You couldn't be quite sure whether you heard them or +felt them, but something was stirring. It felt or sounded a good deal as +if some giant across the hills had slammed the door of his castle as he +left home to take the morning train for business. Up at the northern end +of the training area the sound of the guns was much more distinct. In +fact, they were loud enough some nights to become identified in the mind +as events and not mere rumblings. A Sammy up in that village stopped +our car one morning and asked if we couldn't give him a newspaper. + +"I suppose you want to know how the baseball games are coming out," +somebody suggested. + +"To hell with baseball, I want to know about the war," said the soldier. +"I'm with these mules," he said, pointing to half a dozen animals +tethered on the bank of a canal. "I've been with them right from the +beginning. I came over on the same steamer with 'em. I rode up with 'em +in the train from ---- and here we are again. I don't hear nothing. They +could capture Berlin and nobody'd tell me about it. All I do is feed +these damned mules. 'Big Bill,' that one on the end, is sick, and I've +got to hang around and give him a pill every six hours. I wish he'd +choke. I don't like him as well as the rest of the mules and I hate 'em +all. + +"It'll be fine, won't it, when somebody asks me: 'Daddy, what did you do +in the great war?' and I say: 'Oh, I sat up with a sick mule.'" + +Back of the hills from some indefinite distance came the sound of big +guns. They raged persistently for ten minutes and then quit. "Big Bill" +began to rear around and kick. The soldier cursed him. + +"Those guns were going like that all night, but mostly around two +o'clock," he said. "Nobody around here knows anything about it. I wish I +could get hold of an American paper and find out something about that +fight. I've sent to Memphis for _The News Scimitar_, but somehow it +don't seem to get here. I wish those guns was near enough to drop +something over here on the mules, especially 'Big Bill,' but I'm out of +luck." + +The nearest approach of the war was in the air. It wasn't long before +German planes began to scout over the territory occupied by the +Americans. One battalion almost saw an air fight. It would have seen it +if the Major hadn't said "Attention!" just then. The battalion was +drilling in a big open meadow when there came from the East first a +whirr and then a machine. The machine, flying high, circled the field. +The soldiers who were standing at ease stared up at the visitor, but it +was too high to see the identifying marks. Soon there was no doubt that +the machine was German, for little white splotches appeared in the sky. +It looked as if Charlie Chaplin had thrown a cream pie at heaven and it +had splattered. An anti-aircraft gun concealed in a woods several miles +away was firing at the Boche. Presently the firing ceased and there was +a whirr from the West. A French plane flew straight in the direction of +the German, who climbed higher and higher. As the planes drew nearer it +was possible to see machine gun flashes, but just then the Major called +his men to attention. Regulations provide that eyes must look straight +ahead, but it was a hard test for recruits and there may have been one +or two who stole a glance up there where the planes were fighting. In +each case an officer was on the culprit like a flash. + +"Keep your head still," shouted a lieutenant. "That's a private fight. +It's got nothing to do with you." + +Soon the German turned and flew back in the direction of his own lines +and when the necks of the doughboys were unfettered and they could look +up again the sky was clear. Even the cream puff splotches were gone. + +On another afternoon a Boche plane flew over the entire American area. +It circled a field in divisional headquarters where a baseball game was +in progress and flew home. + +"I know why that German flew home after he reached ----," an officer +explained. "Don't you see? He was trying to find out if we were +Americans and that baseball game proved it to him." + +The greatest aerial display occurred on a morning when a French officer +was instructing an American company in the art of trench digging. He +spoke no English, but an interpreter of a sort was making what shift he +could. The doughboys tried to look interested and didn't succeed. It was +harder when out from behind a cloud came one aeroplane, then another and +another. When half a dozen had appeared from behind the cloud one +doughboy could stand the strain no longer. + +"Look," he shouted, "they're hatching them up there." + +The French instructor finally granted a recess of ten minutes but +before the time was up the planes had maneuvered out of sight. In spite +of all the German activity in the air only one attempt was made to bomb +the Americans during the summer. A single bomb was dropped on a village +where the marines were stationed, but it did no damage. + +The second week in the training area found the doughboys increasing +their curriculum to include bombs and machine guns. It had not been +possible to do much in the finer arts of war previously because of the +absence of interpreters. A number of these had been mobilized now but +they varied in quality. As one American officer put it, "Interpreters +may be divided into three classes: those who know no English; those who +know no French; and those who know neither." + +However, the Americans managed to get their instruction in some way or +other. No interpreters were needed with the machine guns. Instead each +American company was divided up into little groups and a chasseur placed +at the head of each group. I watched the instruction and found that +little language was needed. The Frenchman would take a machine gun or +automatic rifle apart and holding up each part give its French name. The +Americans paid no particular attention to the outlandish terms which the +French used for their machine gun parts, but they were alert to notice +the manner in which the gun was put together and in the group in which I +was standing two Americans were able to put the gun together without +having any parts left over after a single demonstration. + +Of course, a little language was used. Some of the marines had picked up +a little very villainous French in Hayti and they made what shift they +could with that. A few French Canadians and an occasional man from New +Orleans could converse with the chasseurs and one or two phrases had +been acquired by men hitherto entirely ignorant of French. +"Qu'est-ce-que c'est?" was used by the purists as their form of +interrogation, but there were others who tried to make "combien" do the +work. "Combien," which we pronounced "come bean," was stretched for many +purposes. I have heard it used and accepted as an equivalent for +"whereabouts," "what did you say," "why," "which one" and "will you +please show us once more how to put that machine gun together." + +Not only did the Americans show an aptitude for getting the hang of the +mechanism of the machine gun and the automatic rifle, but they shot well +with them after a little bit of practice. + +The first man I watched at work with the automatic rifle was green. He +had taken the gun apart and put it together again with an occasional +"regardez" and bit of demonstration from one of the Frenchmen, but the +weapon was not yet his pal. He picked the gun up somewhat gingerly and +aimed at the line of targets a couple of hundred yards away. Then he +pulled the trigger and the bucking thing, which seemed to be intent on +wriggling out of his arms, sprayed the top of the hill with bullets. The +French instructor made a laughing comment and an American who spoke the +language explained, "He says you ought to be in the anti-aircraft +service." + +The next man to try his luck was a non-commissioned officer long in the +army. He patted the gun and wooed it a little in whispers before he +shot. It was a French gun, to be sure, but the language of firearms is +international. "Behave, Betsy," he said and she did. He sprayed shots +along the line of targets at the bottom of the hill as the gun clattered +away with all the clamor of a riveting machine at seven in the morning. +When they looked at the targets they found he had scored thirty hits out +of thirty-four and some were bull's-eyes. The French instructor was so +pleased that he stepped forward as if to hug the ancient sergeant but +the veteran's look of horror dissuaded him. + +Bombing proved the most popular part of training and particularly as +soon as it was possible to work with the live article. First of all +dummy bombs were issued. A French officer carefully explained that the +bomb should be thrown after four moves, counting one, two, three, four, +as he posed something like a shot putter before he let the bomb go with +an overhand, stiff, armed fling. He illustrated the method several +times, but the first American to throw sent the bomb spinning out on a +line just as if he were hurrying a throw to first from deep short. The +Frenchman reproved him and explained carefully that, although it might +be possible to throw a bomb a long way in the manner in which a baseball +is thrown, it was necessary for a bomber to hurl many missiles and that +he must preserve his arm. He also pointed out that the bomb would never +land in the trenches of the enemy unless it was thrown with a +considerable arc. + +The men then kept to the exercises laid down by the instructor, but just +before they stopped one or two could not resist the temptation of again +"putting something on to it" and letting the bomb sail out fast. One +lefthander who had pitched for a season in the Southern League was +anxious to make some experiments to see if he couldn't throw a bomb with +an out curve but he was informed that such an accomplishment would have +no military utility. + +The first American wounded in France was the victim of a bombing +accident. A soldier threw a live bomb more than thirty meters from a +trench. When the bomb burst a fragment came whirling back in some +curious manner and fell into a box of grenades upon which a lieutenant +was sitting. The fragment cut the pin of one of the bombs and the whole +box went off with a bang. The lieutenant received only a slight cut on +his forehead, but a French interpreter thirty yards away was knocked +unconscious and lost the sight of his right eye. This Frenchman had +spent two years under fire at Verdun without being scratched and here +was his first wound come upon him on a quiet afternoon in a meadow miles +from the lines. + +The men threw bombs from deep trenches and they were instructed to keep +cover closely after hurling a grenade just as if there was a German +trench across the way. But curiosity was too strong for them. Each +wanted to see where his particular bomb hit and how much earth it would +tear up. The bombs made only small scars in the earth, but they sent +fragments of steel casing flying in all directions and several men were +cut about the face by splinters. + +The seeming inability of the American to visualize battle conditions in +training retards his progress in spite of his aptitude in other +directions. A French officer was directing a platoon of Americans one +day in skirmishing. They were to fire a round, run forward twenty paces, +throw themselves flat and run forward again. One doughboy would raise +himself up on his elbows and look about. The Frenchman, very much +excited, ran over to him and said, "You must keep your head down or you +will get shot. You must remember that bullets are flying all about you." + +As soon as the instructor's back was turned the soldier was up on his +elbows again. "Hell," he said, "there ain't any bullets." + +In later phases of training the inferiority of the American to the +French in imagination showed clearly. French veterans or recruits for +that matter could work themselves up to a frenzy in sham battles and +dash into an empty trench with a shout as if it were filled with +Germans. Americans could not do that. They found it difficult to forget +that practice was just practice. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SUNNY FRANCE + + +Later on "Sunny France" became a mocking byword uttered by wet and muddy +men, but during the early days in the training area no one had any just +complaint about the weather. Come to think of it there wasn't anything +very wrong with those early days in rural France. Five o'clock was +pretty early for getting up but the sun could do it and keep cheerful. +It was glorious country with hills and forests and plowed fields and red +roofed villages and smooth white roads. The country people didn't throw +their hats in the air like Parisians, but they were kindly though calm. + +"Down in ----," said a little doughboy who came from an Indiana farm, +"everybody you meet says 'bon jour' to you whether they know you or not. +That means 'good morning.' I was in Chicago once and they don't do it +there." + +It wasn't Eden though. There was the tobacco situation against that +theory. To a good many soldiers, pleasant weather and kindly folk and +ample rations meant nothing much. These were minor things. The +quartermaster had no Bull Durham. When the supply of American tobacco +and cigarettes ran out the men tried the French products but not for +long. "So they call these Grenades," muttered a soldier as he examined a +popular French brand of cigarettes, "I guess that's because you'd better +throw 'em away right after you set 'em going." + +French matches were less popular than French tobacco. The kind they sold +in our town and thereabouts were all tipped with sulphur and usually +exploded with a blue flame maiming the smoker and amusing the +spectators. Political economists and others interested in the law of +supply and demand may be interested to know that when the tobacco famine +was at its height a package of Bull Durham worth five cents in America +was sold by one soldier to another for five francs. This shortage has +since been relieved from several sources, but there has never been more +tobacco than the soldiers could smoke. + +Reading matter was also ardently desired during the early months in the +Vosges. An enterprising storekeeper in one town sent a hurry call to +Paris for English books and a week later she proudly displayed the +following volumes on her shelves: "The Life of Dean Stanley," "Sermons +by the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon," "The Jubilee Book of Cricket," "The +Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins (Lord of Brampton)," and "The +Recollections of the Rt. Hon. Sir Algernon West." + +A few companies had libraries of their own. I wonder who made the +selection of titles. The volumes I picked out at random in one village +were: "The Family Life of Heinrich Heine," "Fourteen Weeks in +Astronomy," "Recollections and Letters of Renan," "Education and the +Higher Life," "Bible Stories for the Young," and "Henry the Eighth and +His Six Wives." The librarian said that the last was the most popular +book in the collection although several readers admitted that it did +not come up to expectations. Just as I was going out the top sergeant +came in to return a book. I asked him what it was. He said, "It's a book +called 'When Patty Went to College.'" + +Our town was big and had moving pictures twice a week, but up the line +in the little villages there was no such source of amusement. After the +men had been in training for a week or more, a French Red Cross outfit +stopped at one of the villages with a traveling movie outfit and +announced that they would show a picture that night. According to the +announcement the picture was "Charlot en 'Le Vagabond.'" It sounded +foreign and forbidding. The doughboys anticipated trouble with the +titles and the closeups of what the heroine wrote and all the various +printed words which go to make a moving picture intelligible. Still they +were patient when the title of the picture was flashed on the screen and +they tried to look interested. The first scene was a road winding up to +a distant hill and down the highway with eccentric gait there walked a +little man strangely reminiscent. He drew nearer and nearer and as the +figure came into full view the soldier in front of me could stand the +strain no longer. He jumped to his feet. + +"I'm a son of a gun," he shouted, "if it isn't Charlie Chaplin." + +Recognition upon the part of the audience was instantaneous and +enthusiasm unbounded. If the Americans go out tomorrow and capture +Berlin they cannot possibly show more joy than they did at the sight of +Charlie Chaplin in France. Never again will the French be able to fool +them by disguising him as "Charlot." + +After a bit the soldiers learned to entertain themselves and several +companies developed a number of talented performers. The first company +show I attended mixed boxing and music. They began with boxing. There +was a short intermission during which the first tenor fixed up a bloody +nose. He had received a bit the worst of it in the heavyweight bout. The +other members of the quartet gave him cotton and encouragement. Finally +he put on his shirt and hitching up his voice, began, "Naught but a few +faded roses can my sweet story tell." His comrades joined him at "My +heart was ever light," and they finished the ballad in perfect +alignment. + +Almost all the songs were sentimental and many were old. They had +"Dearie," and "Where the River Shannon Flows," and that one about +Ireland falling out of Heaven (just as if the devil himself had not done +the very same thing). Later there were "Mother Machree" and "Old +Kentucky Home." Patriotism was not neglected. "When I Get Back Home +Again to the U.S.A." was the favorite among the recent war songs. The +only savor of army life in the program on this particular evening was in +a couple of Mexican songs brought up from the border by men who went to +get Villa. They brought back "Cucaracha" with all its seventeen obscene +Spanish verses. There was also one parody inspired by this war and sung +to the tune of "My Little Girl, I'm Dreaming of You." It went something +like this: + + America, I'm dreaming of you + And I long for you each day + America, I'm fighting for you + Tho' you're many miles away + We'll knock the block right off the Kaiser + And we'll drive them 'cross the Rhine-- + And then we'll sail back home to you, dear + To the tune of "Wacht am Rhein"! + +The American soldier does not seem to be much of a song maker. Songs by +soldiers and for soldiers are not common with us yet. We have nothing as +close to the spirit of the trenches as the British ditty "I want to go +home," which always leaves the auditor in doubt as to whether he should +take it seriously and weep or humorously and laugh. Possibly there is +something of both elements in the song. The mixture has been typical of +the British attitude toward the war. Here is the song: + + I want to go 'ome + I want to go 'ome + The Maxims they spit + And the Johnsons they roar + I don't want to go to the front any more + Oh take me over the seas + Where the Alley-mans can't get at me + Oh my; I don't want to die, + I want to go 'ome. + +The American army is still looking for a song. None of the new ones has +achieved universal popularity. However the many who heard the quartet of +Company L sing on this particular evening seemed to have no objection to +the old songs. In fact they were new to many in the audience for as the +concert went on French soldiers joined the audience and townspeople hung +about the edges of the crowd. They listened politely and applauded, +though indeed one must get a strange impression of America if his +introduction is through our popular songs. Such a foreigner is in danger +of believing that ours is a June land in which the moon is always +shining upon a young person known as "little girl." Yet the French +expressed no astonishment at the songs. Only one feature puzzled them +profoundly. At the end of a particularly effective song the captain +said, "Those men sang that very well. Bring 'em each a glass of water." + +No villager could quite understand why a man who had committed no more +palpable crime than tenor singing should be forced to partake of a +drink which is cold, tasteless and watery. + +Most the villages in our part of France had only one dimension. They +consisted of a line of houses on either side of the roadway and they +were always huddled together. Land is too valuable in France to waste it +on lawns and suchlike. Some of the villages were tiny and shabby, but +none was too small or too mean to be without its little café. It took +the doughboys some little time to get over their interest in the +startling fact that champagne was within the reach of the working man, +but they went back to beer in due course and now champagne is among the +things which shopkeepers must not sell to American soldiers. The +prohibition of the sale of cognac and champagne is all that the army +needs. Beer and light wines are not a menace to the health or behavior +of our army. Beer is by far the most popular drink and it would be an +ambitious man indeed who would seek the slightest deviation from +sobriety in the thin war beer of France. He might drown. + +Absolute prohibition for the army in France would be well nigh +impossible. It would mean that every inn and shop and railroad station +and farmhouse would have to be classed as out of bounds. In fact +prohibition could not be enforced unless our soldiers were ordered never +to venture within four walls. Wine is to be had under every roof in +France and you can get it also in not a few places where the roof has +been shot to pieces. The French are interested in temperance just now. +On many walls posters are exhibited showing a German soldier and a black +bottle with the caption, "They are both the enemies of France," but when +a Frenchman talks of temperance or prohibition or the abolition of the +liquor traffic he never thinks of including wine or beer. The civil +authorities of France would not be much use in helping the American army +enforce a bone-dry order. They simply wouldn't understand it. + +There was some excessive drinking when the army first came to France but +it has been checked. A number of influences have made for discretion. +One of the most potent is the opportunity for promotion in an army in +the field. Officers have been quick to point this out to their men. One +captain called his company together in the early days and said, "Some of +the men in this company are going out and getting pinko, stinko, sloppy +drunk. Any man who gets drunk goes in the guard house of course and more +than that he will get no promotion from me. I'm going to pick my +sergeants from the fellows that have got sense. You may notice that some +of the men who drink are old soldiers. Don't take an example from that. +Remember that's why they're old soldiers. There isn't any sense in +blowing all your money in for booze. Now if I took my pay in a lump at +the end of a month I could buy every café in this town and I could stay +drunk for a year. That would be fine business, wouldn't it?" + +"I guess maybe I exaggerated a little about the length of time I could +stay drunk," the captain told me afterwards, "but do you know that talk +seems to have done the trick." + +One factor which worked for temperance was the French fashion of making +drinking deliberate and social. When an American can be induced to sit +down to his potion he is comparatively safe. These little village cafés +did no harm after the first brief period when the American soldier had +his fling and they served the good purpose of encouraging fraternization +between doughboy and poilu. + +The contact with French soldiers brought no great vocabulary to our men +but if they learned few words they did get the hang of making their +wants understood. In a week or two innkeepers or women in shops had no +trouble at all in attending to the wants of Americans. Probably the +French people made somewhat faster linguistic progress than the +soldiers. The Americans were willing to be met at least halfway. When I +asked one doughboy, "How do you get along with the French? Can you make +them understand you?" he said, "Why, they're coming along pretty well. I +think most of 'em will pick it up in time." + +But there was one French word the soldiers had to learn. That was +"fineesh." The children forced that word upon them. They were always at +the heels of the American soldiers. They galloped the doughboys up and +down the village streets in furious piggyback charges. They borrowed jam +from company cooks and rode in the supply trucks. Of course there had to +be an end to the rides, sometimes, and even to the jam and the only way +to convince the children of France that an absolute unshakable limit had +been reached was to thrust two hands aloft and cry "fineesh." The old +women liked the doughboys too because they would draw water from the +wells for them and occasionally lend a hand in moving wood or wheat or +fodder. Nor do I mean to imply that the younger women of the little +villages did not esteem the doughboys. "Tell 'em back home that there +aren't any good looking women in France," was the message that ever so +many soldiers asked me to convey to anxious individuals in America. I +hand the message on but must refuse to pass upon its sincerity. + +American officers got along well with the French but they never reached +the same degree of chumminess that the men did. They met French officers +at more or less formal luncheons and had to go through a routine of +speeches largely concerned with Lafayette and Rochambeau and Washington. +Poilus and doughboys did not go so far back for their subjects of +conversation. The American enlisted man had a great advantage over his +officer in the matter of language. He might know less French, but he was +much more ready to experiment. An officer did not like to make mistakes. +His was defensive French, a weapon to be used guardedly in cases of +extreme need. When a visiting officer hurled a compliment at him he +replied, but he seldom took the initiative. After all he was an American +officer and he feared to make himself ridiculous by poor pronunciation +and worse grammar. The soldier had no such scruples. He saw no reason +why he should be any more abashed by French grammar than by English and +as for pronunciation he followed the advice of a little pamphlet called +"The American in France" which was rushed out by some French firm for +sale to the American army. In the matter of pronunciation the book said, +"Since pronunciation is the most difficult part of any language the +publishers of this book have decided to omit it." The soldiers were +ready to adopt this method and only wished that it could be extended to +other things. To trench digging for instance. + +The most daring man in the use of an unfamiliar language was not a +soldier but a second lieutenant. He took great pride in his talent for +pantomime and asserted that his vocabulary of some thirty words and his +gestures filled all his needs. He was somewhat startled though on an +afternoon when he went into a shop to purchase "B.V.D.'s" and found the +store in charge of the young daughter of the proprietor. Pantomime +seemed hardly the thing and so he paused long to think up a word for the +garment he wanted or some approximation. At last he smiled and exclaimed +brightly, "Chemise pour jambes, s'il vous plait." + +Stores were not the strong point of our bit of France. We soon came to +regard our town as a metropolis because people journeyed there to make +"shopping tours." One afternoon I marked fifteen visiting soldiers with +their eyes glued against a shop window which displayed half a dozen +electric flashlights, two quarts of champagne, a French-English +dictionary and a limited assortment of postcards. These, of course, were +barred from the mail by censorship but the soldiers collected them to be +taken home after the war. + +"These French postcards aren't exactly what some of the boys back home +are going to expect," one soldier admitted. "I went to three shops now +but the others have been ahead of me and all I could get was these two. +One's a picture called 'l'eglise' and the other's 'la maison de Jeanne +d'Arc.'" + +The shops had hard work in keeping up with more commodities than picture +postcards. There seemed to be an insatiable demand for canned peaches +and sardines. Somehow or other men who have been on a long march simply +crave either sardines or canned peaches. The doughboys did a good deal +of eating at their own expense. Army food was plentiful and moderately +varied. Beans and corned beef hash were served a good many times +perhaps, but there was no lack of fresh meat and there was plenty of jam +and of carrots and onions and heavy gravy. Food, however, was an outlet +for spending money and in some villages the men got so eager that they +would buy anything. Little traveling shops in wagons came through the +smaller villages in the northern part of the training area loaded with +all sorts of gimcracks intended for the peasant trade. The peddlers had +no time to put in a special line for the soldiers. They found that it +was not necessary. Desperate men with pockets full of money would +purchase even the imitation tortoise shell sidecombs which the itinerant +merchants had to sell. + +The purchasing capacity of the soldier was not limited to his pay alone. +The villagers were wildly excited about the white bread issued to the +American army. It was the first they had seen since the second year of +the war. One old lady seized a loaf which was presented to her and +crying "il est beau," sat down upon a doorstep and began to eat the +bread as if it were cake. The rate of exchange fluctuated somewhat but +there were days when a loaf of white bread could be exchanged for a +whole roast chicken. + +The eagerness of the American soldier to spend his money had the result +of tempting French storekeepers to raise their prices and as the cost of +living mounted the civilian population began to complain. Even the +soldiers had suspicions at last that they were being charged too much in +some stores and the American officers took over price control as another +of their many responsibilities. + +"I went to the mayor," one town major explained, "and I said, 'Look +here, Bill, I don't mind 'the shopkeepers putting a little something +over. All I ask is that they just act reasonable. They'll get all the +money in time anyhow, and so I wish you'd tip them off not to be in so +much of a hurry.' He couldn't talk any English, that mayor couldn't, but +the interpreter told him about it and he went right to the front for us. +From that day to this we've had only one complaint about anything in our +village. That came from an old lady who had some doughboys billeted in a +barn next to the shed where she kept her sheep. She came to me and said +the soldiers talked so much at night that the sheep couldn't sleep." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PERSHING + + +Nobody will ever call him "Papa" Pershing. He is a stepfather to the +inefficient and even when he is pleased he says little. In the matter of +giving praise the General is a homeopath. For that reason he can gain +enormous effect in the rare moments when he chooses to compliment a man +or an organization. Pershing believes that discipline is the foundation +of an army. + +"I think," said one young American officer, "that his favorite military +leader is Joshua because he made the sun and the moon stand at +attention." In other words Pershing is a soldiers' soldier. No man can +strike such hard blows as he does and leave no scars. There are men here +and there in the army who do not love him but their criticism almost +invariably ends, "but I guess I'll have to admit that he's a good +soldier." + +Pershing is not a disciplinarian merely for the sake of discipline but +he believes that it is the gauge of the temper of any military +organization. His interest in detail is insatiable. He can read a man's +soul through his boots or his buttons. Next to the Kaiser, Pershing +hates nothing so much as rust and dust and dirt. Perhaps round shoulders +should go in the list as well, and pockets. Certainly he makes good the +things he preaches. There is no finer figure in any army in Europe. The +General is fit from the tip of his glistening boots to his hat top. We +saw him once after he had walked through a front line trench on a rainy +day. There were sections of that trench where the mud was over a man's +shoetops and the back area which had to be crossed before the trench +system was reached was a great lake of casual water fed at its fringes +by roaring rain torrents. And yet the general came out of the trench +without a speck of mud on his boots in spite of the fact that he had +plunged along with no apparent regard for his footing. + +There was dust behind him, though, on the afternoon he first came to +the training area to see his men. News reached our town that the general +was up in the northern end of the training zone and moving fast. An +officer passing by gave me a lift in his car and when we arrived at the +next village half a dozen soldiers who were sitting on a bench jumped up +for dear life and jarred themselves to the very heels with the stiffest +of military salutes. + +The officer grinned. "Pershing's in town," he said and so he was. + +We found him in a kitchen talking about onions to a cook. He asked each +soldier in turn what sort of food he was getting. Some were too +frightened to do more than mumble an inaudible answer. A few said, "Very +good, sir." And one or two had complaints. The General listened to the +complaints attentively and in each case pressed his questions so as to +make the soldier be absolutely concrete in his answers. Next he turned +upon an officer and wanted to know just what the sewage system of the +town was. The officer was a dashing major and he seemed ill at ease when +Pershing asked how many days a week he inspected the garbage dump. + +"That isn't enough," said the General when the major answered. "I want +you to pay more attention to those things." + +From the kitchen he went into every billet in the village. In two he +climbed up the ladders to see what sort of sleeping quarters the men had +in their lofts. In one billet a soldier stole a look over his shoulder +at the General as he passed. Pershing turned immediately. + +"That's not the way to be a soldier," he said. "You haven't learned the +first principle of being a soldier." He turned to a second lieutenant. +"This man doesn't stand at attention properly," he explained. "I want +you to make him stand at attention for five minutes." + +The next offender was a captain who had one hand in his pocket while +giving an order. The General spoke to him just as severely as he had to +the enlisted man. Then he was into his car and away to the next village. + +Pershing is always on the move. One of his aides told me that he never +had more than five minutes' notice of where the General was going or +how long he would stay. No man in the army has covered so much territory +as Pershing. He has been in practically every village occupied by the +American troops. He has inspected every hospital and every training +camp. One day he will be at a port looking at the accommodations which +are being made for incoming vessels and on the next he will have jumped +from the base to a front line trench. He has been on all the Western +fronts except the Italian. His French and British and Belgian hosts find +him a most ambitious guest. He wants to see everything. Once while +observing a French offensive he expressed a desire to go forward and see +a line of trenches which had just been captured from the Germans. The +French tried to dissuade him but the General complained that he could +not see just how things were going from any other position and so into +the German trench he went. + +Pershing has developed in France. Like every other man in the American +army he has had to study modern warfare, but more than that he has +caught something of the spirit of the French. He has acquired some of +their ability to put a gesture into command, to utilize personality in +the inspiration of troops. He is not yet the equal of the French in this +respect. Joffre, for instance, fully realized the military usefulness of +his enormous popularity and capitalized it. It was not mere luck that he +became a tradition. Pétain, while by no means the equal of Joffre on the +personal side, knows how to talk to soldiers and to townsfolk and to +make himself a big human force. + +While he is still a homeopath, General Pershing realizes more than he +ever did before the value of a pat on the back given at the right time. +I saw him do one of those little gracious things in a base hospital +which was caring for the first American wounded. A youthful doughboy was +lying flat on his back wondering just how long it was going to be before +supper time came round when all of a sudden there was a clatter at the +door. The doughboy was afraid it was going to be some more nurses and +doctors. They had bothered him a lot by bandaging up his arm every +little while and it hurt, but when he looked up at the foot of his bed +there stood the man with four stars on his shoulders. The little +doughboy grinned a bit nervously. He thought it was funny that he should +be lying on his back and General Pershing standing up. + +The General was somewhat nervous and embarrassed, too. He still lacks a +little of the French feeling for the dramatic in the doing of these +little things. He had to clear his throat once and then he said, "I want +to congratulate you. I envy you. There isn't a man in the army who +wouldn't like to be in your place. You have brought home to the people +of America the fact that we are in the war." + +The doughboy didn't say anything, but the nurse who made the rounds that +evening wondered why a patient who was doing so well should have a pulse +hitting up to ninety-six. + +Earlier in the summer General Pershing encountered some far more +embarrassing tests. He had to handle bouquets. The donor was usually a +French girl and a very little one. When Pershing and Pétain made a joint +trip through the American army zone there were two little girls and two +bouquets in each village. General Pétain, after receiving his bouquet, +would bend over gracefully and kiss the little girl, adding one or two +kindly phrases immediately following "ma petite." General Pershing began +by patting the little girls on the head, but he realized it was not +enough and after a bit he began to kiss them, too; only once or twice he +got tangled up in their hats and found it hard to maintain military +dignity. He handled the flowers gingerly. He seemed to regard each +bouquet as a bomb which would explode in five seconds but each time +there was some aide ready to step forward and relieve him. + +The attitude of the average West Pointer towards his men is generally +speaking the same as that of General Pershing. Some observers think the +West Point attitude too strict, but I was inclined to believe that the +men from the academy handled men better than the reserve officers. They +are strict, it is true, but at the same time they have been trained to +look after the needs of their men closely. The trouble with the average +reserve officer is that he has not had time to learn how much he must +father his men and mother them, too, for that matter. He does not know +probably just how dependent the average soldier is upon his officer. + +Perhaps the strictest officer of all is the man who was once a non-com. +The former doughboy knows the tricks of the enlisted man and he is +determined that nobody shall put anything over on him. He is often just +a little bit afraid that the soldiers are going to trade on the fact +that he was once an enlisted man. I once saw a soldier offer some cigars +to two officers. One of the officers was a West Pointer and he laughed +and took a cigar but the former non-com. refused very sternly. He could +not afford to be indebted to an enlisted man. + +I do not wish to imply that the men who come up from the ranks do not +make good officers. As a matter of fact they are among the best, once +their preliminary self-consciousness has worn off. The transition from +stripes to bars is perfect torture to some of them. One company had a +crack soldier who had been a sergeant for seven years. He was +recommended for promotion and was sent to an officers' training school +in France. He did very well but just a week before he was to receive his +commission he succeeded in gaining permission to be dropped from the +school and go back to his old company as sergeant. At the last minute he +had decided that he did not want to be an officer. + +I watched him put a company through its drill two days after his return. +They moved with spirit and precision under his commands but when it was +all over I found one reason why he didn't want to be an officer. + +"That was very good today," he said. "You done well." + +The first lieutenant smiled. He had a right to smile, too, for the +return of the sergeant to his company had almost cut his work in half. +He knew his value well enough. + +"The best I can do is teach the men," he said. "It takes an old sergeant +to learn them." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MEN WITH MEDALS + + +General Pétain was the first of many famous Frenchmen who came to see +the American troops in training. He also had the additional object of +reviewing the chasseurs and of distributing medals, for this crack +division had been withdrawn from one of the most active sectors to +instruct the doughboys. General Pershing accompanied Pétain. The blue +devils were drawn up in formation in the middle of a big meadow cupped +within hills. The seven men who were to be honored stood in a line in +front of the division. Six were officers and they awaited the pleasure +of the general with their swords held at attention. The seventh man who +stood at the right of the little line was an old sergeant with a great +flowing gray and white mustache. The rifle which he held in front of him +overtopped him by at least a foot. + +The ceremony began with a fanfare by the trumpeters. As the last notes +came tumbling back from the hills Pétain moved forward. We found that he +was not so tall as Pershing nor quite as straight. The French leader is +also a little gray and about his waist there is just a suggestion of the +white man's burden. But he is soldierly for all that and his eyes are +marvelously keen and steady. His tailor deserved a decoration. The +general wore only one medal, but that was as large as the badge of a +country sheriff. It was a great silver shield hung about his neck and +indicated that he was a commander of the Legion of Honor. He stopped in +front of the first officer in the little line waiting to be honored and +spoke to him for a moment. Then he pinned a red ribbon on his coat and +kissed the man first on the left cheek and then on the right. The +doughboys looked on in amazement. + +"Well, I'll be damned," said one under his breath, "it's true." + +Four men received the red ribbons, but the other three were down only +for the military medal which is a high decoration but less esteemed +than the Legion of Honor. No kisses went with the green and yellow +ribbons of the military medal but only handshakes. Pétain stopped in +front of the old sergeant at the end of the line and looked at him for a +minute without speaking. Then he called an orderly. + +"This man has three palms on his croix de guerre," said Pétain. + +Now a palm means that soldier has been cited for conspicuous bravery in +the report of the entire army. + +"The military medal is not enough for this man," continued Pétain. "Step +forward," he said. + +The old sergeant trembled a little as he stood a tiny, solitary gray +figure in front of the whole division. + +"Bring back the trumpets," Pétain commanded and for the lone poilu the +fanfare was sounded again. + +"I make you a chevalier of the Legion of Honor," said the commander in +chief of the French army to the old sergeant, and after he had pinned +the red ribbon to his breast he added a hug to the conventional two +kisses. The poilu moved back to the ranks steadily, but as soon as the +general had turned his back the sergeant pulled out his handkerchief and +wept. The soldiers greeted their comrade with cheers and laughter. + +"Now," said Pétain turning to Pershing, "let's take it easy for a little +while. I've seen plenty of reviews." + +The French general walked across the space cleared for the review and +began to talk with people in the fringe of spectators gathered around +the edge of the meadow. He talked easily without any seeming +condescension. + +"How are you, my little man?" he said, patting a boy on the head. "In +what military class are you?" + +Encouraged by his father the boy said that he was in the class of 1928. + +"Oh," said the general, "that's a long time off. We shall have beaten +the Boches before then." + +Next it was a peasant girl who attracted his attention. + +"Where have you come from?" he inquired with as much apparent interest +as if he were talking with a soldier just back from Berlin. "That was a +long walk just to see soldiers," he said when the girl told him that she +lived in a little village about ten miles distant. "But we are glad to +have you here," he added. + +And so he moved on down the line with handshakes for the grownups, pats +on the head for little boys and kisses for little girls. He turned back +to his reviewing station then and the French troops swept by with brave +display: They were very smart and brisk, horse, foot and artillery, but +Pétain found a few things to criticize although he mingled praise +generously with censure. He told the officers to know their men and to +get on such terms with them that the soldiers would not be afraid to +speak freely. He told of reforms which he planned to introduce in the +French army. He favored longer leaves from the front, he said, and +better transportation for the poilus. + +"I shall have time tables made for the men on leave," he said and then +for an instant he became the shrewd French business man rather than the +dashing general. + +"I have figured out," he explained, "that the army can afford to sell +these time tables for five sous. It wouldn't do to give them away. +Nobody would value them then." + +A week later we had another visitor. French generals and all their +resplendent aides clicked their heels together and stood at attention as +this civilian passed by. He was a short stoutish man in blue serge +knickerbockers and a dark yachting cap. His tailor deserved no +decoration for this seemed a secondary sort of costume and headgear in a +group loaded down with gold braid and valor medals. But their swords +flashed for the man in the yachting cap and a great general saw him into +his car, for the stoutish visitor was the President of the French +Republic. Generals Pétain and Pershing accompanied Poincaré in his car +up to the drill ground. It was an American division which marched this +morning. In fact it was the same unit which had marched through the +streets of the port only a few months before. They had grown browner and +straighter since that day and they looked taller. Group consciousness +had dawned in them now. The only lack of discipline was shown by the +mules. It must be admitted that the mule morale left much to be desired. +Many were new to the task of dragging machine guns and those that did +not sulk tried to run away. Strong arms and stronger words prevailed +upon them. + +"Remember," the driver would plead, "you have a part in making the world +safe for democracy," and in a trice all the evil would flee from the +eyes and the heels of the unruly animals. + +A number of bands helped to keep the men swinging into the face of a +driving rain. The French officers who accompanied Pétain and Poincaré +were somewhat surprised when one regiment went by to the tune of +"Tannenbaum," but General Pershing explained that it had been played in +America for years under the name of "Maryland, My Maryland." He had a +harder task some minutes later when a band struck up a regimental hymn +called "Happy Heinie," which borrows largely from "Die Wacht am Rhein" +for its chorus. + +As soon as the troops marched by, General Pershing sent orders for all +the officers to assemble. They gathered in a great half circle before +the French President who spoke to them slowly and with much earnestness. +Indeed, he spoke so slowly that fair scholars could follow his +discourse. Even those who could grasp no more than such words as +"Lafayette" and "President Wilson" and "la guerre" listened with +apparent interest. M. Poincaré called attention to the fact that the day +was the anniversary of the Battle of the Marne and also the birthday of +Lafayette. These days, he said, linked together the two nations which +were making a common cause in the struggle for civilization and he ended +with a dramatic sweep of his arm as he exclaimed, "Long live the free +United States." However, he called it Les Etats Unis which made it more +difficult. + +"What did he say?" a group of doughboys asked a sergeant chauffeur who +had been stationed near enough to hear the speech. "I didn't get it +all," said the sergeant, "but it sounded a good deal like 'give 'em +hell.'" + +The President and his party spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting +the billets of the Americans. In one barn Poincaré insisted on climbing +up a ladder to see the quarters at close range and as he climbed slowly +and clumsily it came to my mind that the presidential waist line, the +knickerbockers and the yachting cap were all symbols of the fact that +France even in war was still a civil democracy. + +Still it must be admitted that the next civilian we saw was more warlike +than any of the soldiers. The only military equipment worn by Georges +Clemenceau was a pair of leather puttees which didn't quite fit, but he +had eyes and eyebrows and a jaw which all combined to suggest pugnacity. +He was not then premier and indeed he had been in political retirement +for some time, but he made a greater impression on the soldiers than any +of our visitors because he spoke in English. It was on September 16, +1917, that Clemenceau saw American soldiers, but he had seen them once +before and that was in Richmond in 1864 when Grant marched into the +city. Clemenceau was then a school teacher in America. The old Frenchman +watched the sons and grandsons of those dead and gone fighters and +expressed the wish that he might see American troops once again when +they marched into Berlin. + +The doughboys he saw in France were not the seasoned troops which swung +by him on those dusty Virginia roads so many years ago, but in their +hands were new weapons which might have turned the tide at Bull Run and +changed Gettysburg from victory into a rout. Certainly Pickett would +have never swept up to the Union lines if there had been machine guns +such as those with which the rookies blistered the targets for the +edification of the distinguished guests and the bombs which sent the +pebbles sky high might have given pause even to Stonewall Jackson. + +There were sports as well as military exercises in the program arranged +for Clemenceau. There were footraces and a tug of war and boxing +matches. In one of these American blood was freely shed on French soil +for a middleweight against whom the tide of battle was turning butted +his opponent and cut his forehead. + +I did not see Joffre when he paid a visit to the army zone and reviewed +the troops but he left a glamor for us all in our messroom where he had +dinner with General Pershing. It was a reporterless dinner so it meant +less to us than to Henriette who served the dinner for the two generals. +Nothing much had ever happened to Henriette before. She looked like +Jeanne d'Arc, but the only voices she ever heard cried, "L'eau chaude, +Henriette," or "Hot water" or "OEufs" or "Eggs." And if they were not +wanted right away they must be had "toute de suite." + +It was Henriette who brushed the boots and cleaned the dishes and swept +the floors and every night she waited on peasants and peddlers and +reporters. Once she had a major in the reserve corps. He was attached to +the quartermaster's department. But on the historic night she stood at +the right elbow of General Joffre and the left elbow of General +Pershing. I was away at the time and the correspondents were telling me +about it before dinner. While we were talking she came into the room +with the roast veal and I said, "Henriette, they tell me that while I +was away you waited upon Marshal Joffre and General Pershing." + +One of the men at the table made a warning gesture, but it was too late. +Henrietta put the hot veal down to cool on a side table and pointed to +the seat nearest the window. A large man from a press association sat +there but she looked through him and saw the hero of the Marne. +"Maréchal Joffre là," said Henriette. She turned to a nearer seat and +pointing to the shrinking representative of the Chicago _Tribune_ +explained, "General Pearshing ici." + +One of the men rose from the table then and got the veal. Something was +said about fried potatoes, but Henriette remained to tell me about the +historic dinner. She admitted that she was very nervous at first. That +was increased by the fact that General "Pearshing" ate none of his +pickled snails. The Maréchal had fifteen. The soup went well, Henriette +said, and General Pearshing cheered her up enormously by his conduct +with the mutton. The chicken was also a success. After the chicken the +generals held their glasses in the air and stood up. Henriette noticed +that when Maréchal Joffre stood up he was "gros comme une maison." + +As he left the room Maréchal Joffre pinched her cheek but the mark was +gone before she could show it to the cook. For all that Henriette had +something to show that she waited upon generals at the famous dinner. +She opened a new locket which she wore around her neck and took out a +small piece of gilt paper. She would not let me touch it, but when I +looked closely I saw that it had printed upon it "Romeo and Juliet." + +"It's the band off the cigar Pershing smoked at the dinner," explained +one of the correspondents. Henriette put the treasure back in her locket +and sighed. "Je suis très contente," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LETTERS HOME + + +The British army tells a story of a soldier who had been at the front +for a year and a half without ever once writing home. This state of +affairs was called to the attention of his officer who summoned the +soldier and asked him if he had no relatives. The Tommy admitted that he +had a mother and an aunt. + +"I want you to go back to quarters," said the captain, "and stay there +until you've written a letter. Then bring it to me." + +The soldier was gone for two hours and then he returned and handed the +officer a single sheet of letter paper. His note read, "Dear Ma--This +war is a blighter. Tell auntie. With love--Alfred." + +It was different in the American army. The doughboys wrote to their +families to the second and third cousin. One soldier turned fifty-two +letters over to his lieutenant for censorship in a single day. The men +hardly seemed to need the suggestion posted on the wall of every +Y.M.C.A. hut: "Remember to write to mother today." Of course it was not +always mother. I came upon a couple of lieutenants one afternoon hard at +work on an enormous batch of letters. It was originally intended that +the chaplain should censor all the mail for the regiment but it was +found that the task would be far beyond the powers of any one man. In +time the job came to absorb a large part of the energy of the junior +officers. + +"This," said one of the officers, "is the fifth soldier who's written +that 'our officers are brave, intelligent and kind!' I know I'm brave +and intelligent, but I'm not so damned kind," and he ripped out half a +page of over faithful description of the country. + +"The man I have here," said the second officer, "has got a joke. He +says, 'If I ever get home the Statue of Liberty will have to turn round +if she ever wants to see me again.' It was all right the first time, but +now I've got to his tenth letter and he's still using it." + +It has been found that more than fifty per cent. of the mail sent home +consists of love letters. The fact that they have to be censored does +not cramp the style of the writers in the least. One letter was so +ardent as to arouse admiration. "This man writes the best love letter I +ever read," said a lieutenant, looking up. "The only trouble is that +he's writing to five girls at once and he uses the same model every +time. Two of the girls live in the same town at that." + +Most of the letters were cheerful. Some courageously so. One man who was +near death from tuberculosis wrote home once a day recounting imaginary +events which had happened outside the walls of his hospital. In his +letters he would send himself on long marches over the hills of France +and describe the woods and meadows and plowed fields as they looked to +him on bright mornings. He described in detail work which he was doing +in bombing and the only complaint he ever made was on a day when he had +coughed himself to such weakness that he could hardly finish his daily +letter. He wrote to his mother then and asked her to excuse the +briefness of his note. He explained that he was pretty well fagged out +from a long afternoon of bayonet drill. + +The soldiers frequently commented on the kindliness of the French people +and they were also fond of boasting, with perhaps doubtful +justification, that they were already proficient in the French language. +A few were desirous of giving the folk back home a thrill. One man +working as company cook at a port in France, some three or four hundred +miles from the firing line, wrote a weekly letter describing all sorts +of war activities. He made up air raids and heavy bombardments and +fairly tore up the village in which he was living. Curiously enough he +never made himself conspicuous in these actions. According to the +letters he was just there with the rest taking the "strafing" as best he +could. + +The officer who censored his first warlike letter cut out all the +imaginative flights, but two days later the soldier wrote another letter +even more thrilling. He complained that it was difficult to write +because the explosion of big shells nearby made the house rock. + +The lieutenant called him up then and said, "You're writing a lot of +lies home, aren't you?" + +"Yes, sir," said the soldier. + +"Well, what are you doing it for?" continued the officer. + +The soldier shifted about in embarrassment and then he said, "Well, you +see, sir, those letters are to my father. He went into the Union army +when he was sixteen and fought all through the last two years of the +war. He lives in a little town in Ohio and the people there call him +'Fighting Bill' on account of what he did in the Civil War. Well, when I +went away to this war he began to go round town and tell everybody that +I was going to do fighting that would make 'em all forget about the +Civil War. He used to say that I came of fighting stock and that I'd +make 'em sit up and take notice. It would be pretty tough for him, sir, +if I had to write home and say that I was cooking down in a town where +you can't even hear the guns." + +"That's all right," said the lieutenant, "but some of the people who've +got sons in this regiment will be doing a lot of worrying long before +they have any need to." + +"No, sir," said the soldier, "my father don't know what regiment I'm +with. I was transferred when I got over here and the only address he's +got is the military post office number." + +"I don't know what to say in that case," replied the lieutenant. "It's a +cinch you're not giving away any military information and I can't see +how you're giving, any aid and comfort to the enemy. I guess you can go +on with that battle stuff. Make the bombardments just as hard as you +like, but keep the casualties light." + +In contrast to the attitude of the veteran back in Ohio was a letter +which a captain received from the mother of one of his men. + +"My son is only nineteen," she wrote. "He has never been away from home +before and it breaks my heart that he should be in France. It may sound +foolish but I want to ask you a favor. When he was a little boy I used +to let him come into the kitchen and bake himself little cakes. I think +he would remember some of that still. Can't you use him in the bakery or +the kitchen or some place so he won't have to be put in the firing line +or in the trenches? I will pray for you, captain, and I pray to God we +may have peace for all the world soon." + +The captain read the letter and then he burned it up. "If the rest of +the men in the company heard of that they would jolly the life out of +that boy," he said. But he sat down and wrote to the mother, "Your boy +is well and I think he is enjoying his work. I cannot promise to do what +you ask because your son is one of the best soldiers in my company. We +are all in this together and must share the dangers. I pray with you +that there may be peace and victory soon." + +No complete story of America's part in the war will ever be written +until somebody has made a collection and read thousands of the letters +home. The doughboy is strangely inarticulate. He can't or he won't tell +you how he felt when he first landed in France, or heard the big guns +or went to the trenches. He is afraid to be caught in a sentimental pose +but this fear leaves him when he writes. In his letters he will pose at +times. This is not uncommon. Many a man who would never think of saving +anything about "saving France" will write about it in rounded sentences. +His deepest and frankest thoughts will come out in letters. + +Of course the censors stand between these makers of history and +posterity. We must wait for our chronicles of the war because of the +censor. The newspaper stories about our troops in France on their +tremendous errand should ring like the chronicle of an old crusade, but +it is hard for the chronicler to bring a tingle when he must write or +cable "Richard the deleted hearted." + +When a censor wants to kill a story he usually says, "Don't you know +that your story may possibly give information to the Germans?" The +correspondent then withdraws his story in confusion. Of course what he +should answer is, "Very well, that story may give information to the +Germans, but it will also give information to the Americans and just +now that is much more important." + +There are certain military reasons for not naming units and not naming +individuals, but the war is not being fought by the army alone. If the +country is to be enlisted to its fullest capacity it must have names. +The national character cannot be changed in a few months or a year. The +newspapers have brought us up on names. It is too much to expect that +the folk back home can keep up on their toes if the men they know go +away into a great silence as soon as they cross the ocean and are not +heard of again unless their names appear in casualty lists. We can't do +less for our war heroes than we have done for Ty Cobb and Christy +Mathewson and Smokey Joe Wood. That is not only for the sake of the +people back home, but for those at the front as well. They like to know +that people are hearing about them. It is not encouraging to them to +receive papers and learn that "certain units have done something." Just +as soon as possible they want to see the name of their regiment and of D +company and K and F and H. The English name their units after a battle +and so must we. And we must have plenty of names. It helped Ty Cobb not +a little in the business of being Ty that thousands of columns of +newspaper space had built up a tradition behind him. When Joe Wood got +in a hole it is more than probable that he realized that he must and +would get himself out again because he was "Smokey Joe." We must do as +much for private Alexander Brown and corporal James Kelly, and for +sergeants and major generals, too. We are not a folk who thrive on +reticence. It is true that we like to blow our own horn but it must be +remembered that Joshua brought down a great fortress in that manner. The +trumpets are needed for America. We cannot fight our best to the sound +of muffled drums. + +The man abroad who is sending back the stories of the war must deal with +the French censor as well as the American, and that reminds us of +Pétain's mustache. When the great general came to our camp all the +newspaper stories about his visit were sent to the French military +censor. All were allowed to pass in due course except one. The +correspondent concerned went around to find out what was wrong. + +"I'm sorry," said the censor, "but I cannot allow this cable message to +go in its present form. You have spoken of General Pétain's white +mustache. I might stretch a point and allow you to say General Pétain's +gray mustache, but I should much prefer to have you say General Pétain's +blonde mustache." + +"Make it green with small purple spots, if you like," said the +correspondent, "but let my story go." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MARINES + + +"They tell me," said a young marine in his best confidential and earnest +manner, "that the Kaiser isn't afraid of the American army, but that he +is afraid of the marines." + +The youngster was hazy as to the source of his information, but he never +doubted that it was accurate. He felt sure that the Kaiser had heard of +the marines. Weren't they "first to fight"? And if he didn't fear them +yet, he would. At least he would when Company D got into action. + +No unit in the American army today has the group consciousness of the +marines. It is difficult to understand just how this has happened. +Everybody knows that once a regiment, or a division, or even an army, +has acquired a tradition, that tradition will live long after every man +who established it has gone. There is, for instance, the Foreign Legion +of the French army. Thousands and thousands of men have poured through +this organization. Sickness and shrapnel, the exigencies of the service +and what not have swept the veterans away again and again, but it is +still the Foreign Legion. Some of its new recruits will be negro +horseboys who have missed their ships at one of the ports through +overprotracted sprees; there will be a gentleman adventurer or two, and +a fine collection of assorted ruffians. But in a month each will be a +legionary. + +I saw an American negro in a village of France who had been a legionary +until a wound had stiffened a knee too much to permit him to engage in +further service. He was a shambling, shuffling, whining, servile negro, +abjectly sure that some kind white gentleman would give him a pair of +shoes, or at least a couple of francs. But he had the Croix de Guerre +and the Medaille Militaire. He had not cringed while he was a legionary. + +The tradition of this organization, however, is based on battle service. +The Legion has seen all the hardest fighting. The tradition of our +marines rests on something else. They have seen service, of course, but +it has not been considerable. Their group feeling was at first sheerly +defensive. There was a time when the marine was a friend of no one in +the service. He was neither soldier nor sailor. Many of the marine +officers were men who had been unable to get appointments at West Point +or Annapolis, or, having done so, had failed to hold the pace at the +academies. And so the spirit of the officers and the men was that they +would show the army and the navy of just what stuff a marine was made. +And they have. It is true that the army and the navy have ceased long +since to look down upon the marine, but the pressure of handicap has +been maintained among the marines in France just the same. + +It is largely accidental. For instance, when the American troops were +first billeted in the training area the marines were placed at the upper +end of the triangle miles further from the field of divisional maneuvers +than any of their comrades. And so, if Joffre, or Pétain, or +Clemenceau, or Poincaré, or any of the others came to review the first +American expeditionary unit, the marines had to march twenty-two miles +in a day in addition to the ground which they would cover in the review. +Curiously enough, this did not inspire them with a hatred of the +reviews, nor did they complain of their lot. They merely took the +attitude that a few miles more or less made no difference to a marine. + +I remember a story a young officer told me about his first hike with the +marines in France. They had eleven miles to do in the morning and as +many more in the afternoon, after a brief review. The young officer +appeared with a pair of light shoes with a flexible sole. + +"Look here," said the major, "you'd better put on heavier shoes." + +"I think these will suffice, sir," said the young lieutenant. "You see, +they're modeled on the principle of an Indian moccasin--full freedom for +the foot, you know." + +The major grinned. "Come around and see me this evening," he said, "and +tell me what you think of the Indians." The man with the moccasin style +shoe did well enough until the company was in sight of the home village. +Unfortunately, a halt was called at a point where a brook ran close to +the road. + +The sight of the cool stream made the lieutenant's feet burn and ache +worse than ever. "I had just about made up my mind to turn my men over +to the sergeant and limp home, after a crack at the brook," said the +lieutenant, "when I heard one of the men say that he was tired. There +was an old sergeant on him like a flash. He was one of the oldest men in +the regiment. He had never voted the prohibition ticket and rheumatism +was only one of his ailments, but he hopped right on the kid who said he +was tired. 'Where do you get off to be a marine?' he said. 'Why, we +don't call a hike like this marching in the marines. Look here.' And the +old fellow did a series of jig steps to show that the march was nothing +to him. + +"Well," said the young officer, "I didn't turn the men over to the +sergeant and I didn't bathe my feet in the brook. I marched in ahead of +them. You see, I thought to myself, I guess my feet will drop off all +right before I get there, but I can't very well stop. After all, I'm a +marine." + +Even the Germans did their best to make the marines feel that they were +troops apart from the others. Only one raid was attempted during the +summer and then it was the village of the marines upon which a bomb was +dropped. It injured no one and did ever so much to increase the pride of +marines, who would remark to less fortunate organizations in the +training area: "What do you know about aeroplanes?" + +When it came time to dig practice trenches, other regiments were content +to put in the better part of the morning and afternoon upon the work, +but the marines went to the task of digging in day and night shifts. +There was a Sunday upon which Pershing announced that he would inspect +the American troops in their billets. Through some mistake or other he +arrived in the camp of the marines eight hours behind schedule, but the +men were still standing under arms without a sign of weariness when he +arrived. Historical tradition lent itself to maintaining the morale of +the marines, for their village was once the site of a famous Roman camp +and one of the men in digging a trench one day came across a segment of +green metal that the marines assert roundly was part of a Roman sword. +In a year or two it will be sure to be identified as Cæsar's. + +The marines were exclusive and original even in the matter of mascots. +The doughboys had dogs and cats and a rather mangy lion for pets but no +other fighting organization in the world has an anteater. The marines +picked Jimmy up at Vera Cruz and he began to prove his worth as a mascot +immediately. He was with them when the city was taken. Later he stopped +off at Hayti and aided in subduing the rebels. He is said to be the only +anteater who has been through two campaigns. Army life has broadened +Jimmy. He has learned to eat hardtack and frogs and cornbeef and pie and +beetles and slum and omelettes. As a matter of fact Jimmy will eat +almost anything but ants. Of course he wouldn't refuse some tempting +morsel simply because of the presence of ants, but he no longer finds +any satisfaction in making an entire meal of the pesky insects. He won't +forage for them. Things like hardtack and pie, Jimmy finds, will stand +still and give a hungry man a chance. Lack of practice has somewhat +impaired the speed of Jimmy and even if he wanted to revert to type it +is probable that he could catch nothing but the older and less edible +ants. Of course he does not want to go back to an ant diet. He feels +that it would be a reflection on the hospitality of his friends, the +marines. + +The marines are equally tactful. In spite of his decline as an +entomologist Jimmy remains by courtesy an anteater and is always so +termed when exhibited to visitors. He has two tricks. He will squeal if +his tail is pulled ever so gently and he will demolish and put out +burning cigars or cigarettes. The latter trick is his favorite. He +stamps out the glowing tobacco with his forepaws and tears the cigar or +cigarette to pieces. The stunt is no longer universally popular. The +marine who dropped a hundred franc note by mistake just in front of +Jimmy says that teaching tricks to anteaters is all foolishness. + +However, Jimmy has picked up a few stunts on his own account. It is not +thought probable that any marine ever encouraged him in his habit of +biting enlisted men of the regular army and reserve officers. There is a +belief that Jimmy works on broad general principles, and many marines +fear that they will no longer be immune from his teeth if the +distinctive forest green of their organization is abandoned for the +conventional khaki of the rest of the army. + +Some little time before the American troops first went into the +trenches, the marines were scattered into small detachments for police +duty. Many of them have since been brought together again. There is, of +course, a good deal of stuff and nonsense in stories about soldiers +saying, "We want to get a crack at them," and all that, but it is +literally and exactly true that the marines, both officers and men, were +deeply disappointed when they could not go to the front with the others. +Their professional pride was hurt. + +Still they did not whine, but went about their traditional police work +with vigor. I was in a base hospital one day when a doughboy came in all +gory about the head. "What happened to you?" a doctor asked. "A marine +told me to button up my overcoat," said the doughboy, "and I started to +argue with him." + +There are not many American army songs yet, but the marines did not wait +until the war for theirs. Most of it I have forgotten, but one of the +stunning couplets of the chorus is: + + If the army or the navy ever gaze on heaven's scenes + They will find the streets are guarded by United States Marines. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +FIELD PIECES AND BIG GUNS + + +War seemed less remote in the artillery camp than in any other section +of the American training area for the roar of the guns filled the air +every morning and they sounded just as ominous as if they were in +earnest. They were firing in the direction of Germany at that, but it +was a good many score of miles out of range. Just the same the French +were particular about the point. "We always point the guns toward +Germany even in practice if we can," said a French instructing officer, +"it's just as well to start right." + +The camp consisted of a number of brick barracks and the soldiers and +officers were well housed. It was located in wild country, though, where +it was possible to find ranges up to twelve thousand yards. Scrubby +woods covered part of the ranges and the observation points towered up +a good deal higher than would be safe at the front. We went through the +woods the morning after our arrival and heard a perfect bedlam of fire +from the guns. There was the sharp decisive note of the seventy-five +which speaks quickly and in anger and the more deliberate boom of the +one hundred and fifty-five howitzer. This was a colder note but it was +none the less ominous. It had an air of premeditated wrath about it. The +shell from the seventy-five might get to its destination first but the +one hundred and fifty-five would create more havoc upon arrival. A +sentry warned us to take the left hand road at a fork in the woods and +presently we came upon one of the observation towers. It was crammed +with officers armed with field glasses. Every now and then they would +write things on paper. They seemed like so many reporters at a baseball +game recording hits and errors. When we got to the top of the tower we +found that large maps were part of the equipment as well as field +glasses. These were wonderfully accurate maps with every prominent tree +and church spire and house top indicated. The officers were ranging +from the maps. The French theory of artillery work was not new to the +American officers, but this was almost the first chance they had ever +had to work it out for we have no maps in America suitable for ranging. + +According to theory the battery should first fire short and then long +and then split the bracket and land upon the target or thereabouts. The +men had not been working long and they were still a little more +proficient in firing short or long than in splitting the bracket. Later +the American artillery gave a very good account of itself at the school. +The French instructors told one particular battery that they were able +to fire the seventy-five faster than it had ever been fired in France +before. Perhaps there was just a shade of the over-statement of French +politeness in that, but it was without doubt an excellent battery. In +the lulls between fire could be heard the drone of aeroplanes for a +number of officers were flying to learn the principles of aerial +observation in its uses for fire control. Turning around we could also +see a large captive balloon. All the junior officers were allowed to +express a preference as to which branch of artillery work they preferred +and, although observation is the most dangerous of all, fully +seventy-five per cent, of the men indicated it as their choice. + +Some American officers in other sections of the training area came to +the conclusion in time that we should go to the English for instruction +in some of the phases of modern warfare. We did in fact turn to the +English finally for bayonet instruction and a certain number of officers +thought that the English would also be useful to us in bombing, but I +never heard any question raised but that we must continue to go to the +French for instruction in field artillery until such time as we had +schools of our own. + +The difference in language made occasional difficulties of course. "It +took us a couple of days to realize that when our instructor spoke of a +'rangerrang' he meant a 'range error,'" said one American officer, "but +now we get on famously." + +We left the men in the tower with their maps and their glasses and went +down to see the guns. Our guide took us straight in front of the one +hundred and fifty-fives while they were firing, which was safe enough as +they were tossing their shells high in the air. It was better fun, +though, to stand behind these big howitzers, for by fixing your eye on a +point well up over the horizon it was possible to see the projectile in +flight. The shell did not seem to be moving very fast once it was +located. It looked for all the world as if the gunners were batting out +flies and this was the baseball which was sailing along. + +The French officer who was showing us about said that he could see the +projectile as it left the mouth of the gun, but though the rest of us +tried, we could see nothing but the flash. Later we stood behind the +seventy-fives but since their trajectory is so much lower it is not +possible to see the shell which they fire. They seemed to make more +noise than the bigger guns. Fortunately it is no longer considered bad +form to stick your fingers in your ears when a gun goes off. Most of the +officers and men in this particular battery were as careful to shut out +the sound of the cannon as schoolgirls at a Civil War play. Not only did +they stuff their fingers in their ears, but they stood up on their toes +to lessen the vibration. + +Guns have changed, however, since Civil War days. They are no longer +drab. Camouflage has attended to that. The guns we saw were streaked +with red and blue and yellow and orange. They were giddy enough to have +stood as columns in the Purple Poodle or any of the Greenwich Village +restaurants. + +Before we left the camp we met Major General Peyton C. March, the new +chief of staff, who was then an artillery officer. We agreed that he was +an able soldier because he told us that he did not believe in +censorship. Regarding one slight phase of the training he bound us to +secrecy, but for the rest he said: "You may say anything you like about +my camp, good or bad. I believe that free and full reports in the +American newspapers are a good thing for our army." + +We traveled many miles from the field gun school before we came to the +camp of the heavies. This, too, was a French school which had been +partially taken over by the Americans. The work was less interesting +here, for the men were not firing the guns yet, but studying their +mechanism and going through the motions of putting them in action. Many +of the officers attached to the heavies were coast artillerymen and +there was a liberal sprinkling of young reserve officers who had come +over after a little preliminary training at Fortress Monroe. The General +in charge of the camp told us that these new officers would soon be as +good as the best because the most important requirement was a technical +education and these men had all had college scientific training or its +equivalent. Just then they were all at school again cramming with all +the available textbooks about French big guns. They did not need to +depend on textbooks alone, for the camp contained types of most styles +of French artillery. + +The pride of the contingent was a monster mounted on railroad trucks. It +fired a projectile weighing 1800 pounds. After the French custom, the +big howitzer had been honored by a name. "Mosquito" was painted on the +carriage in huge green letters. + +"We call her mosquito," explained a French officer, "because she +stings." + +"Mosquito" had buzzed no less than three hundred times at Verdun, but +she had a number of stings left. The Americans detailed with the gun +were loud in its praises and asserted that it was the finest weapon in +the world. There were other guns, though, which had their partisans. +Some swore by "Petite Lulu," a squat howitzer, which could throw a shell +high enough to clear Pike's Peak and still have something to spare. +There were champions also of "Gaby," a long nosed creature which +outranged all the rest. Marcel could talk a little faster than any gun +in camp, but her words carried less weight. + +All the menial work about the camp was done by German prisoners. I was +walking through the camp one day when I saw a little tow-headed soldier +sitting at the doorstep of his barracks watching a file of Germans +shuffle by. They were men who had started to war with guns on their +shoulders, but now they carried brooms. + +"Do you ever speak to the German prisoners?" I asked the soldier. + +"Oh, yes," said the youngster; "some of them speak English, and they say +'Hello' to me and I say 'Hello' back to them. I feel sorry for them." + +The little soldier looked at the shabby procession again and then he +leaned over to me confidentially and said with great earnestness as if +he had made up the phrase on the spot: "You know I have no quarrel with +the German people." + +When we got home after our trips to the artillery camps we found an old +man in a French uniform eagerly waiting to see us. He told us that he +was an American, and more than that, a Californian. His name was George +La Messneger and he was sixty-seven years old. He was French by birth +and had fought in the Franco-Prussian war, but the next year he went to +California and lived in Los Angeles until the outbreak of the great war. +Although more than sixty, La Messneger was accepted by a French +recruiting officer and he was in Verdun two weeks after he arrived in +France. Three days later he was wounded and when we met him he had added +to his adventures by winning a promotion to sous-lieutenant and gaining +the croix de guerre and the medaille militaire. + +Old George came to be a frequent visitor, but though we urged him on he +would never tell us much about the war. He wanted to talk about +California. + +"I tell the men in my regiment," George would begin, "that out in Los +Angeles we cut alfalfa five times a year, but they won't believe me." + +Gently we tried to lead George back to the war and his experiences. "How +did you get the military medal, lieutenant?" somebody asked. + +"Oh, that was at Verdun," replied the old man. + +"It must have been pretty hot up there," said another correspondent. + +"Yes," said George, and he began to muse. We imagined that he was +thinking of those hot days in February when all the guns, big and +little, were turned loose. + +"Yes," said George, "it was pretty hot," and we drew our chairs closer. +"You know," continued the old man, "a lot of people will tell you that +Los Angeles is hot. Don't pay any attention to them. I've lived there +forty years, and I've slept with a blanket pretty much all the time. The +nights are always cool." + +I had heard George before and I knew that he was gone for the evening +now. As I tiptoed out of the room the old soldier in French horizon blue +was just warming up to his favorite topic. "San Francisco's nothing," +said George, dismissing the city with as much scorn as if it had been +Berlin or Munich. He talked with such vehemence that all his medals +rattled. + +"We're nearer the Panama Canal," said George, "we're nearer China and +Japan, and as for harbors----" + +But just then the door closed. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +OUR AVIATORS AND A FEW OTHERS + + +At first the ace is low. Our young aviators who will be among the most +romantic heroes of them all begin humbly on the ground. The American +army now has the largest flying field in France for its very own, but +during summer and early autumn many of our men trained in the French +schools. There his groundling days try the aviator's dignity. He must +hop before he can fly and perhaps "hop" is too dignified a word. When we +visited one of the biggest schools, all the new pupils were practicing +in a ridiculous clipped wing Bleriot called a penguin. This machine was +a groundhog which scurried over the earth at a speed of twenty or thirty +miles an hour. It never left the grass tops and yet it provided a +certain amount of excitement for its pilot, or maybe rider would be +better. + +The favorite trick of the penguin is to turn suddenly in a short half +circle and collapse on its side. It takes a good deal of skill to keep +it straight and when the aviator has learned that much he is allowed to +make a trip in a machine which leaps a little in the air every now and +then, only to flop to earth again. Then he is ready to fly a Bleriot, +though, of course, his first trips are made as a passenger. Very little +time is spent in flying. Staying up in the air is no great trick. It's +the coming down which gives the trouble. And so the student is eternally +trying landings. He smashes a good many machines and here the French +show their keen realization of the mental factor in flying. + +"I made a bad landing one day," an American student named Billy Parker +told me, "and smashed my machine up good and proper. I thought I'd +killed myself, but they dragged me out from under the junk, picked the +pieces of wood and aluminum out of my head, stuffed some cotton into my +nose to check the bleeding and in fifteen minutes they had a new machine +out and had me up in the air again." + +Parker said he felt a bit queer when he got up in the air again. "I had +a sort of feeling that I belonged down on the ground and not up there," +he said. "That was peculiar because usually the air feels very stable +and friendly. You hate to come down, but this time I was anxious to get +back and after circling the field once I came down. My landing was all +right, too, and since then I've never had that scared feeling about the +air." + +The French theory is that the mistake must be corrected immediately. The +man who has had a smash-up is apt to get air shy if he has a chance to +brood over his mishap for a day or two. + +The last test of the preliminary school is a thirty mile flight with +three landings. After he has done that the student goes to Pau for his +test in acrobatics. The chief stunt set for him here is a vrille. The +student is required to put his machine into a spin at a height of about +8500 feet and bring it out again. The trick is not particularly +difficult if the man keeps his head, but the tendency is to turn on the +power which only accelerates the fall and some are killed at Pau. My +friend caught malaria as soon as he got there and was allowed to take +things easily for a week. Finally his test was set for Wednesday. On +Monday morning the man who slept in the cot to his left went out for his +test and was killed and on Tuesday the man from the right hand cot was +killed. Death came very close to the young American. He and a French +student arrived at the training ground at about the same time. Two +machines were ready. The instructor hesitated a second and then assigned +the American to the machine at the right. A few minutes later the +Frenchman was killed when a wing came off his machine as soon as he +began his vrille. Fortunately Parker did not know that until after he +had passed his own test. He saw one other man killed before he left Pau +and that horrified him more than the accident on the morning of his +trial. + +"The judge who decided whether you passed your test was a little +Frenchman with a monocle," he said. "He sat in a rocking chair at the +edge of the field and you had to do the vrille straight in front of him +or it didn't count. He simply wouldn't turn to look at a flyer. I was +standing beside him when one fellow got rattled in the middle of a +vrille and put his power on. Even at that he almost lifted his machine +out but she came down too fast for him. There was a big smash-up and +people came running out to the wreck. They sent for a doctor and then +for a priest, but the terrible little man never moved from his chair. +'You see,' he cried to me, 'he was stupid! stupid!' This flying test had +come to seem nothing more than an examination bluebook to him. A fellow +passed or he flunked and that was all there was to it." + +Luck plays its biggest part in a flier's early days at the front. He has +a lot to learn after he gets there, but the French do not nurse him +along much. He has to take his chances. It may be that he will get in +some very tight place before he has learned the fine points and a future +star will be lost at the outset of his career. On the other hand he may +come up against German fliers as green as himself and gradually gain a +technique before he is called upon to face an enemy ace or a superior +combination of planes. At the front as in the schools the French pay +keen attention to the mental state of the fliers. + +"There was always champagne at mess and they kept the graphophone +playing all through dinner any night a man from our squadron didn't come +back," an aviator said to me. "One afternoon we lost two men and before +dinner they took a leaf out of the table. Our commander didn't want us +to notice any empty seats or the extra space." + +It is difficult to say which nation has the most daring aviators, but +that honor probably belongs to the English. I asked a Frenchman about it +and he said: "The English do most of the things you would call stunts. +There was one, for instance, that made a landing on a German aviation +field and after firing a few rounds at the aerodrome flew away again. +That was a stunt. But we think the English are fools with their +sportsmanship and all that. It doesn't work now. We look at it a little +differently. We cannot take fool chances. If you take a fool chance you +are very likely to get killed. That is not nice, of course. We do not +like to be killed, but more than that, it is one less man for France. We +must wait until there is a fair show." + +"And when is that?" I asked. + +"When there are not more than four Germans against you," said the +careful Frenchman. + +The warlike spirit of the French aviators extended even to the servants +at the preliminary school which we visited. The Americans there were all +quartered in one big room and their general man of all work was a little +Annamite from French-Indo-China. Hy seemed the most peaceful member of a +peace-loving race as he moved about the barracks just before dawn every +morning waking up the students with a smiling "Bon jour" and an equally +good-natured "Café." One day he had a holiday and after borrowing a +uniform he went to a photographer's in the nearest town. From the +photographer he borrowed a rifle, a cutlass and a pistol. He thrust the +cutlass into his belt and shouldered the other two weapons. After he had +assumed a fighting face the picture was taken. + +The next day Hy varied the routine. He began with "Bon jour" as usual, +but before he said "Café" he drew from behind his back the photograph, +and pointing to it proudly, exclaimed, "brave soldat." + +We went from the French school to the big field where the American camp +was under construction. The bulk of the work was being done by German +prisoners. One of these, a sergeant, had been a well known architect in +Munich. The American workers consulted him now and then in regard to +some building problem and he always gave them good advice. He took +almost a professional pride in the growing buildings even if they were +designed to house the men who will one day be the eyes of the American +army. We asked another prisoner how he got along with the Americans and +he replied: "Oh, some of them aren't half bad." A third spoke to us in +meager broken English, although he said that he had lived five years in +Buffalo. "Are you going back to Germany after the war?" we asked him. +"Nein," he replied decisively, "Chicago." + +Most prisoners professed to be confident that Germany would win the war +and they all based their faith on the submarine. As we started to go the +man from Buffalo suddenly held out his hand and said: "So long." Several +of the correspondents shook hands with him much to the horror of a young +American in the French flying corps who accompanied us. + +"You mustn't do that," he explained. "Any Frenchman who saw you do that +would be very much shocked." + +I remembered then that when I saw German prisoners in any of the large +towns the French inhabitants took great pains to ignore them. I never +heard French people jeer at their prisoners. Their attitude was one of +complete aloofness. Once I saw prisoners in a big railroad station and +the crowds swept by on either side without a glance as if these men from +Prussia had been so many trunks or trucks or benches. + +If the young Americans at the school had not been so busy learning the +business of flying they could have formed a cracker jack nine or eight +or eleven, as the squad included some of the most famous of our college +athletes. + +We also visited an English aerodrome which was not far from our +headquarters. This was a camp from which planes started for raids into +Germany. The men who were carrying on this work were all youngsters. I +saw no one who seemed to be more than twenty-five. Just the day before +we arrived the Germans had discovered their whereabouts and had raided +the hangars. One man had been killed and two planes wrecked. Machine gun +bullets had left holes in all the buildings about the place. The English +officer smiled when we looked about. "Oh, yes," he said, "the Hun was +over last night and gave us a bit of a bounce." His slang was fluent but +puzzling. He was explaining why he and his fellow aviators flew at a +certain height on raids. "You see," he said, "the Hun can't get his hate +up as far as that." + +The bombing machines of the squadron were huge, powerful planes, but +they all had pet names painted upon them such as "Bessie" and "Baby" and +"Winifred" which had been twice to Stuttgart. These English fliers were +a quiet, reticent crowd who became fearfully embarrassed if anybody +tried to draw them out on the subject of their exploits. One of them +went over to an American Red Cross hospital nearby a few days after our +visit and played bridge with three American doctors there. He had been a +rather frequent visitor and a keen and eager player, so they were +somewhat surprised when he told them at nine o'clock that he would have +to go. He was three francs behind and started to fumble around in his +pockets to find the change. "Oh, never mind," said one of the doctors. +"Some other night will do. You'll be over here again pretty soon, I +hope." + +"Oh, no," said the young Englishman, "I'd rather pay up now. Sorry to +toddle off so early. Beastly nuisance, you know, but I've got to go over +and bomb Metz to-night." + +Much more would be heard of the flying exploits of the English if their +individual reticence were not combined with a governmental policy of not +announcing the names of the fliers who bring down enemy planes. +Unfortunately, the American army seems prepared to follow this example. +One of the high officers in the American air service in France said that +he did not intend to treat aviators like prima donnas. He added that he +thought it was a big mistake to advertise aces. However, the Germans +play up their star airmen in the newspapers and on the moving picture +screen and it must be admitted that they have not made many mistakes +from a purely military point of view. + +Inevitably, however, the status of the flier is changing. Nobody regrets +this more than the aviators of France. The French army used to have a +saying, "all aviators are a little crazy," and nobody believed it so +thoroughly as the aviators. They took great pride in being unlike other +people in a war which was all cramped up into schedule. An aviator got +up when he felt like it and flew when the mood was on. If he felt +depressed, or unlucky, or out of sorts, he rolled over and went to sleep +again. Nobody said anything about it. When he fought the battle was a +duel with an opponent who was also a knight and sportsman although a +Boche. + +But there was no keeping efficiency out of the air. The German brought +it there. He discovered that two planes were better than one and three +even better. He introduced teamwork and the lone French errants of the +air began to be picked off by groups of Germans who would send one +machine after another diving down on a single foe. The Flying Circus and +other aerial teams of the Germans have not only driven chivalry from the +air, but they have taken a good deal of the joy out of flying. Very +reluctantly the French have adopted squadron flying and the airman now +finds himself obeying commands just as if he were an infantryman or an +artillerist. Even the civilian population has begun to show that it +realized the change in the status of the aviator. There was, for +instance, poor Navarre, the finest flier in the army, who was sent to +prison because he came to Paris on a spree and ran down three gendarmes +with his racing auto. French aviators cannot see the sense of punishing +Navarre. I only heard one aviator who had any excuse to offer for the +civilian authorities. + +"After all," he said, "they showed a little judgment. They did not +arrest Navarre until he had run down three gendarmes." + +Although many men in the army have longer lists of fallen Germans to +their credit, no Frenchman has ever flown with the grace and skill of +Navarre. The great Guynemer was only a fair flier and owed his success +to his skill as a gunner. But Navarre was master of all the tricks. Upon +one occasion he bet a companion that he could make a landing on an army +blanket. The blanket was duly fastened in the middle of the field and +away flew the aviator. His preliminary calculation was just a bit off +and at the last minute he nosed sharply down and wrecked the machine. +But he hit the blanket and won the bet. + +Next to Germany, America has done most to take romance out of the air, +so the Frenchmen say. The American air student attends lectures and +learns about meteorology and physics. He learns how to take a motor +apart and put it together again. In fact, he is versed in all the theory +of flying long before he is allowed to venture in the air. Of course +this is the best system. It would be the system of any nation which had +the opportunity of taking its time, yet the scholarly approach cannot +fail to dim adventure a little bit. Launcelot would have been a somewhat +less dashing knight if he had begun his training in chivalry by learning +the minimum number of foot pounds necessary to unhorse an opponent or +the relative resilience of chain mail and armor. Yet not all the +training in the world can take the stunt spirit out of the young +American aviator. One who shipped as a passenger with a Frenchman bound +for a bombing raid, paid for his passage by crawling out along the +fuselage of the machine to release a bomb which had stuck. But it was a +little incident back of the lines which gave me the best insight into +the character of the American aviator. I know a young aviator of +twenty-five who is already a major and the commander of a squadron. He +wasn't particularly old for his years, either. I remember he told us +with great glee how he and another young aviation officer had nailed the +purser in his cabin one night during the trip across. Yet he could be +stern upon occasion. He was walking along the field one day when he saw +a plane looping. He was surprised because the French instructor attached +to the squadron had told them that the type of machine which they were +using would not do the loop the loop. It didn't have sufficient power, +he said, nor would it stand the strain. + +"It made five loops," said the major in telling the story, "and they +were dandies, too, as good as I ever saw. I thought it was the +Frenchman, of course, but I asked somebody and he said, 'No, it's +Harry.' When he came down I bawled him out. 'You were told not to do +that, weren't you?' I asked him. He said, 'Yes, sir.' 'Well, what did +you do it for?' I asked him. 'I guess it was because the Frenchman told +me it was impossible,' he said. I told him that he would have to turn +his machine over to another man and that other disciplinary measures +would be applied. He's in disgrace still and I suppose I've got to keep +it up for a while. That's all right, good discipline and all that sort +of thing, you know, but there's one thing I can't take away from him, +and nobody else can. He's the only man in France that ever looped that +type of machine. He did it. By golly, I envy him, but I don't dare let +him know it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HOSPITALS AND ENGINEERS + + +Some of the compliments the mannerly French poured out upon the army +left the Americans feeling that they didn't quite deserve them. Others +they could take standing. Well to the front of the second lot were all +the good words for the medical corps. A leading writer for a big +Parisian afternoon paper took the first three columns of his first page +to say with undisguised emotion that the French government not merely +could, with profit, but should and must pattern after the American Army +Medical Service. + +One good army hospital in France is like another and so let it be the +New York Post Graduate unit which was picked at random for the purpose +of a visit. We straggled off the train with two old peasant women whose +absorbed faces under their peaked white caps did not encourage us to +ask our way of them, and one poilu, bent under the astonishing +miscellany of the home-going French soldier. He lost his chance to +escape us by eyeing us with frank if friendly curiosity. Could he direct +us to the American Army Hospital, we asked, and he wrinkled his weather +worn nose. No, he hadn't been home since the Americans had come to war, +but, of course, there was only one building in town big enough and new +enough to be used by the Americans. If we should turn to the left and +then to the right and then to the left again we would come to the school +and there he thought we would find the Americans. We did. To the far end +of the little town we trudged till we came to a low stone building, gray +and white, of good stout masonry. We knew it was the American hospital +because over the arched entrance there hung a "bannière etoilée." + +We neared the entrance to the tune of some trumpet blasts, not very well +played, and we peered from arch to inner court yard just in time to see +a swarm of khaki-half-clad soldiers running out from barracks. By the +time they reached the mess door they were khaki-clad. The officer who +came to take us about explained that on Sunday mornings everybody slept +late and dressed on the way to breakfast and that discipline was better +on week days. Then he told us that of all the privates in that unit not +one had ever been a soldier before. They had been picked for medical +service first and military service at such time as the officers had +learned enough to teach it to them. I remember later that one of the +soldiers objected privately to being drilled by a dentist. + +Nine-tenths of the men were fresh out of college, the officer told us, +and half the other tenth were freshmen or sophomores. Many of the +enlisted men, we were told, had left incomes in the tens of thousands +and a few in the hundreds of thousands. The enlisted personnel included +one matinee idol, one young New York dramatic critic, two middling well +known young authors, a composer of good but saleable music, and a golfer +who gets two in the national rating. + +The wards were not very different from those of a New York hospital +back home, except that they housed a strange mixture of patients. About +half were American soldiers and the rest were civilians from the country +round about. The French civilians were convinced that though the +American doctors might cure them with their marvelous medicines and +speckless cleanliness they would surely kill them with air. This +particular base hospital was fulfilling two functions for the civilian +population. It was seeking to take out adenoids and let in air. A great +New York specialist was attending to the adenoids and making progress. +It was not always possible to convince the patient that it would do him +any good to have his adenoids removed, but if the operation gave the +kind American doctor any pleasure he was willing to let him go ahead. +The air campaign was making slower progress. Dislike of air is centuries +old in France and it has become an instinct with the race. I rode in a +railroad car with a French aviator on a balmy day of early autumn and +his first act upon entering the compartment was to close both windows. +Everybody in this part of France has his bed placed inside a closet and +at night he closes the doors. + +Worst of all were the extra precautions against air which the French +peasants took in case of illness. The young French doctors were at the +front and the old men who remained always began the treatment of a case +by advising the patient's relatives to close all the windows and start a +fire. + +At the call of sick babies and old folk of the countryside came +aristocrats of the New York medical profession whose fees at home would +have bought the house in which the patient lived. Later, of course, the +doctors of the hospital will be more rushed by the necessities of the +soldiers. + +"This is hardly more than a germ of what we plan," a doctor explained to +us. "Do you see those tents?" He pointed across a small field. "Those +are American engineers and they're going to do nothing for the next few +months but build additions to this hospital. Every time I go 'way for a +day I come back to find that they've added a thousand beds to the +capacity we're planning for. We will extend all the way across the +fields over to that road before they're done with us." He spoke in a +joyful voice as if nothing in the world was quite so inspiring as a huge +hospital filled with patients. That was the professional touch. I +remember the story one of the doctors told us about a young surgeon who +was sent up to the French front to help handle the cases after a big +drive. One of his first patients was a German prisoner who had been shot +just above the elbow and bayoneted in the stomach. The doctor had no +great trouble with the elbow and he did what he could for the abdominal +wound. + +"I could save that man all right if it wasn't for that bayonet wound," +he said to another American doctor close at hand, and then he added in a +reproachful voice as he pointed to the gash: "That's an awful dangerous +place to stab a man." + +There were no wounded at the hospital at the time of our visit, but some +of the soldiers in the medical ward were very sick. There was one boy +there, who has since mended and gone away, whose recovery seemed +hopeless. The doctor in charge saw that something was troubling the +young soldier and so he came to him and told him that he was aggravating +his illness by this worry or desire. + +"Whatever this thing is, you must tell me," said the doctor. + +"Do you think I'm going to die?" the boy asked anxiously. + +"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the doctor answered a little evasively. + +"I knew I was pretty sick," said the boy, catching the evasiveness of +the doctor's tone, "and if you think I'm going to die and won't ever get +back home again, there's just one thing I want to ask you to do for me." + +"What's that?" said the doctor. + +"Couldn't you fix it up for me just once to have ham and eggs and apple +pie for breakfast?" + +The most important thing in the case of all the sick men was to keep +them from brooding about home. The doctors made a point of getting +around and talking to the patients to cheer them up. One of them +complained of homesickness. + +"Yes," said the doctor, "I suppose we all have people back there that we +miss." + +"You can just bet I do," said the sick soldier, "I've got the finest +wife in the world in Des Moines and two children and a Ford." + +The health of the staff was excellent, but sometimes they felt homesick, +too. The enlisted men gave a show the night I was at the hospital and +during the course of the performance everybody wept or at least got +moist eyed because the play was about New York. It was laid in a year as +nameless as the place where the hospital is located. All the program +said was: "The bachelor apartments of Schuyler Van Allen on a fine June +night a few weeks after the end of the war." Schuyler had just come back +from Europe and he found his apartment with everything just as it was on +the night he had sailed for France. There was the daily paper he had +left behind with the date May 8, 1917, and he looked at the old sheet +and mused as he read some of the headlines: + +"Kaiser Calls on Troops to Stand Firm," read Schuyler. "The Kaiser," he +said to himself, and then he added: "I wonder whatever became of him." + +The audience laughed at that, but in a moment the doctors and the nurses +and the patients who weren't sick enough to stay in bed wept. It was all +because Schuyler looked out of the window and said to his friend: "Oh, +it's great to be on Fifth Avenue again. I want to see it in every light +and at every hour of the day. It was fairly blazing tonight with the +same old hurrying crowd jamming the traffic at Forty-second Street and +the same old mob pushing and shoving its way into the Grand Central +subway station." The mention of the subway was too much for the +audience. By this time the nurse who sat in front of me was dabbing +violently at her eyes with her pocket handkerchief. She was breaking my +heart and I leaned forward and asked: "What part of New York do you come +from?" + +"I wasn't ever in New York," she said. "I come from Lima, Ohio." + +Like the medical corps, the engineers were peculiarly American and +peculiarly efficient as well. We first came upon them when we saw a +tall, stringy man looking out of the window of a little locomotive which +pulled a train up to a point at the French front. We thought he was an +American because his jaws were moving back and forth slowly and +meditatively. Inquiry brought confirmation. + +"Sure, I'm an American," said the man in the blue jumpers. "I guess I've +kicked a hobo off the train for every telegraph pole back on the old +Rock Island, but this is the toughest railroading job I've struck yet." + +The man in the locomotive was a member of an American regiment of +railroad engineers which had taken over an important military road. They +had the honor to be the first American troops at the French front who +came under fire. The engineers were willing to admit that while washouts +and spreading rails were old stories to them, they did get a bit of a +thrill the first time they found their tracks torn up by shellfire. But +the aeroplanes were worse. + +"One night," said our friend the engineer, "there was one of those +flying machines just followed along with us and every time we fired the +engine and the sparks flew up she'd drop a bomb on us or shoot at us +with her machine gun. We tried to hit it up a bit, but she kept right up +with us. They didn't hit us, but once they got so rough we just slowed +down and laid under the engine for a spell until they decided to quit +picking on us." + +This regiment of railroad engineers was the huskiest outfit I saw in +France. It was carefully selected from the railroads running into +Chicago. Of the men originally selected only about one-seventh were +taken because the railroads found so many men who were eager to go. One +company boasted one hundred and twenty-five six-footers and all were +two-fisted fighters. The discipline of the regiment, of course, was not +that of an infantry unit. I watched an animated discussion between a +captain and his men as to where some material should be placed when the +regiment first moved into a new camp. + +"You've got the wrong dope about that, Bill," said a private to his +captain very earnestly. The officer looked at him severely. + +"I've told you before about this discipline business, Harry," he said. +"Any time you want to kick about my orders you call me mister." It is +hard for a railroad man to realize that a couple of silver bars have +changed a yardmaster into a captain. + +The regiment set great store by the number thirteen. It was put into +service on a Friday the thirteenth and it left its American base in two +sections of thirteen cars each. The locomotives' headlight numbers each +totaled thirteen and the thirteenth of a month found the regiment +arriving at its European port of entry. The thirteenth of the next month +found the regiment starting for its French base and when the camp was +reached a group of interpreters was waiting. + +"How many are you?" asked the colonel. + +"Myself and twelve companions," replied one of the Frenchmen. + +The regiment will never forget the first night at its French base. It +arrived at midnight but crowds thronged the darkened streets and gave +the big Americans an enthusiastic greeting, although it was forbidden to +talk above undertones. Since they could not hurrah for the soldiers, +the villagers hugged them, and from black windows roses were pelted on +shadowy figures who tramped up the street to the low rumble of a muffled +band. + +"Great people, these French, so demonstrative," said a captain, who was +once a trainmaster in a Texas town. + +"I was in the theater the other night," he said, "and a couple of +performers on the stage started to sing 'Madelon.' Well, I'd heard it +before and I knew the chorus, so when they got that far along I joined +in. Well, there was a young girl sitting next me and when she saw that I +knew the song she just threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. + +"And now," said the captain, "everybody in the regiment's after me to +teach 'em that song." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +WE VISIT THE FRENCH ARMY + + +"The Germans haven't thrown a single shell into Rheims today," said our +conducting officer apologetically. "Yesterday," he continued more +cheerfully, "they sent more than five hundred big ones and they wounded +two of my officers." + +We left the little inn at the fringe of the town and rode into the +square in front of the cathedral. At the door the officer turned us over +to the curator. The old man led us up the aisle to a point not far from +the altar. Here he stopped, and pointing to a great shell hole in the +floor said: "On this spot in the year 496 Clovis, the King of the +Franks, was baptized by the blessed St. Remi with oil which was brought +from heaven in a holy flask by a dove." + +Something flew over the cathedral just then, but we knew it was not a +dove. It whistled like a strong wind, and presently the shop of a +confectioner some ten blocks away folded up with a ripping, smashing +sound. Clovis, with his fourteen centuries wrapped about him, was safe +enough. He had quit the spot in time. But a younger man ducked. The old +guide did not even look up. + +"The first stone of the present cathedral was laid in May, 1212, by the +Archbishop Alberic de Humbert," he said. + +Another big shell tore the sky, and this time the smash was nearer. It +seemed certainly no more than nine blocks away. The young man began to +calculate. He figured that he was seven centuries down, while the +Germans had nine blocks to go. That was something, but the guide failed +to keep up his pace through the centuries. There were no more happy +hiatuses. + +"Scholars dispute," he continued, "as to who was the architect of the +cathedral. Some say it was designed by Robert de Coucy; others name +Bernard de Soissons, but certain authorities hold to Gauthier de Reims +and Jean d'Orbais." Two more shells crossed the cathedral. The +controversy seemed regrettable and the young man shifted constantly from +foot to foot. He appeared to feel that there was less chance of being +hit if he were on the wing, so to speak. + +"One or two have named Jean Loups," said the guide, but he shook his +head even as he mentioned him. It was evident that he had no patience +with Loups or his backers. Indeed, the heresy threw him off his stride, +and the next smash which came during the lull was more significant than +any of the others. The crash was the peculiarly disagreeable one which +occurs when a large shell strikes a small hardware store. Even the guide +noticed this shell. It reminded him of the war. + +"Since April," he said, "the Germans have been bombarding Rheims with +naval guns. All the shells which they fire now are .320 or larger. They +fire about 150 shells a day at the city, mostly in the afternoon, and +they usually aim at the cathedral or some place near by." + +The young man noted by his watch that it was just half-past one. + +"A week ago the Germans fired a .320 shell through the roof, but it did +not explode. I will show it to you, but first I must ask you to touch +nothing, not even a piece of glass, for we want to put everything back +again that we can after the war." + +On the floor there was evidence that some patient hand had made a +beginning of seeking to fit together in proper sequence all the +available tiny glass fragments from the shattered rose windows. It was a +pitiful jigsaw puzzle, which would not work. The curator stepped briskly +up the nave, and at the end of a hundred paces he stopped. + +"This is the most dangerous portion of the cathedral," he explained. +"Most of the big shells have come in here." And he pointed to three +great holes in the ceiling. Then he showed us the monstrous shell which +had not exploded and the fragments of others which had. Down toward the +west end of town fresh fragments were being made. Each hole in the +cathedral roof sounded a different note as the shells raced overhead. +But the old curator was musing again. He had forgotten the war, even +though the smashed and twisted bits of iron and stone from yesterday's +clean hit lay at his feet. + +"The first stone of the present cathedral was laid in May, 1212, by the +Archbishop Alberic de Humbert," he said. "Alberic gave all the money he +could gather and the chapter presented its treasury, and all about the +clergy appealed for funds in the name of God. Kings of France and mighty +lords made contributions, and each year there was a great pilgrimage, +headed by the image of the Blessed Virgin, through all the villages. And +the building grew and sculptors from all parts of France came and +embellished it and in 1430 it was finished. You see, gentlemen," he +said, "it took more than two hundred years to build our cathedral." + +We left the cathedral then and paused for a minute in the square before +the statue of Jeanne d'Arc, who brought her king to Rheims and had him +crowned. In some parts of France devout persons speak of the Jeanne +statue in Rheims as a miracle because, although the cathedral has been +scarred and shattered and every building round the square badly +damaged, the statue of Jeanne is untouched. I looked closely and found +the miracle was not perfect. A tiny bit of the scabbard of Jeanne had +been snipped off by a flying shrapnel fragment, but the sword of Jeanne, +which is raised high above her head, has not a nick in it. + +Crossing the square we went into the office of _L'Eclaireur de l'Est_. +This daily newspaper has no humorous column, no editorials, no sporting +page and no dramatic reviews, and yet is probably the most difficult +journal in the world to edit. The chief reportorial task of the staff of +_L'Eclaireur_ is to count the number of shells which fall into the city +each day. That doesn't sound hard. The reporter can hear them all from +his desk and many he can see, for the cathedral just across the street +is still the favorite target of the Germans. Sometimes the reporter does +not have to look so far. The office of _L'Eclaireur_ has been hit eleven +times during the bombardment and three members of the staff have been +killed. One big shell fell in the composing room and so now the paper +is set by hand. It is a single sheet and the circulation is limited to +the three or four thousand civilians, who have stuck to Rheims +throughout the bombardment. One of the few who remain is a man who keeps +a picture postcard shop in a building next door to the newspaper office. +His roof has been knocked down about his head and his business is hardly +thriving. I asked him why he remained. + +"I started to go away several months ago after one day when they put +some gas shells into the town," he said. "The very next morning I put +all my things into a cart and started up that street there. I had gone +just about to the third street when a shell hit the house behind me. It +killed my horse and wrecked the wagon and so I picked up my things and +came back. It seemed to me I wasn't meant to go away from Rheims." + +The shelling increased in violence before we left the office of +_L'Eclaireur_. One shell was certainly not more than a hundred and fifty +yards away, but the work went on without interruption. The printers who +were setting ads never looked up. Mostly these advertisements were of +houses in Rheims which were renting lower than ever before. If there was +anyone in the visiting party who felt uncomfortable he was unwilling to +show it, for just outside the door of the newspaper office there sat an +old lady with a lapful of fancy work. A shell came from over the hills +and, in the seconds while it whistled and then smashed, the old lady +threaded her needle. + +A day later, when some of us were willing to confess that of all +miserable sounds the whistling of a shell was the meanest, we found a +curious kink in the brain of everyone. It was the universal experience +that the slightest bit of cover, however inadequate, gave a sense of +safety out of all proportion to its utility. Thus we all felt much more +uncomfortable in the square than when we stood in the composing room of +the newspaper which was shielded by the remains of a glass skylight. The +same curious psychological twist can be found among soldiers at the +front. Again and again men will be found taking apparent comfort in the +fact that half an inch of tin roof protects them from the shells of the +Germans. + +One is always taken from the cathedral of Rheims to the wine cellars. +The children of darkness are invariably wiser than the children of light +and the champagne merchants have not suffered as the churchmen have. +Their business places have been knocked about their heads, but their +treasures are underground deep enough to defy the biggest shells. In the +cellar of a single company which we visited there were 12,000,000 quarts +of wine. Even the German invasion at the beginning of the war failed to +deplete this stock. Hundreds of people live in these cellars, which are +laid out in avenues and streets. We came first to New York, a street +with tier upon tier of wine bottles; then to Boston, then to Buenos +Ayres, then to Montreal. One of the visitors explained that the street +named New York contained the wine destined to be shipped to that city, +while Buenos Ayres contained the consignment for the Argentine capital, +and so on. We nodded acceptance of the theory, but the next wine-laden +street was called Carnot and the next was Jeanne d'Arc. + +From the cellars we made a journey to a battery of French .75's. It was +a peaceful military station, for so well were the guns concealed that +they seemed exempt from German fire, in spite of the fact that they had +been in place for half a year. The men sat about underground playing +cards and reading newspapers, but the commander of the battery was +unwilling that we should go with such a peaceful impression of his guns. +He brought his men to action with a word or two and sent six shells +sailing at the German first line trenches for our benefit. We left, half +deafened, but delighted. + +No child could be more eager to show a toy than is a French officer to +let a visitor see in some small fashion how the war wags. We went from +the battery to a first line trench. It was slow work down miles and +miles of camouflaged road to the communicating trench, and all along the +line we were stopped by kindly Frenchmen, who wanted us to see how their +dugouts were decorated or the nature of their dining room or the first +aid dressing station or any little detail of the war with which they +were directly concerned. Much can be done with a dugout when a few back +numbers of _La Vie Parisienne_ are available. Still, this scheme of +decoration may be carried too far. I will never forget the face of a Y. +M. C. A. man who joined us at a French officers' mess one day. It was a +low ceilinged room, with pine walls, but not an inch of wall was +visible, for a complete papering of _La Vie Parisienne_ pictures had +been provided. Among the ladies thus drafted for decorative purposes +there was perhaps chiffon enough to make a single arm brassard. + +Trenches, save in the very active sectors, give the visitor a sense of +security. Open places are the ones which try the nerves of civilians, +and it was pleasant to walk with a wall of earth on either hand, even if +some of us did have to stoop a bit. From the point where we entered the +communication trench to the front line was probably not more than half a +mile as the crow flies--if, indeed, he is foolish enough to travel over +trenches--but the sunken pathway turned and twisted to such an extent +that it must have been two miles before we struck even the third line. +Here we were held while ever so many dugouts and kitchens and gas alarm +stations and telephones were exhibited for us. They were all included in +the routine of war, but of a sudden romance popped up from underground. +The conducting officer paused at the entrance of a passage. "Another +dugout" we thought. + +"Bring them up!" said the officer to a soldier, and the poilu scrambled +down the steps and came up with a bird cage containing two birds. + +"These are the last resort," explained the officer. "We send messages +from the trenches by telephone, if we can. If the wires are destroyed we +use flashes from a light, but if that station is also broken and we must +have help the birds are freed." + +Neither pigeon seemed in the least puffed up over the responsibility +which rested upon him. + +The German trenches were just 400 yards away from the first lines of the +French. It was possible to see them by peering over the rim of the +trench, but we quickly ducked down again. Presently we grew less +cautious, and one or two tried to stare the Germans out of countenance. +If they could see that strangers were peeping at them they paid no +attention. + +The French officer in charge seemed embarrassed. He explained that it +was an exceptionally quiet day. Only the day before the Germans had been +active with trench mortars, and he couldn't understand why they were +sulking now. Possibly the bombardment from the French .75's, which had +been going on all day, had softened them a bit. He looked about the +trench dejectedly. The soldiers of the front line were playing cards, +eating soup or modeling little grotesque figures out of the soft rock +which lined the walls of the trenches. He called sharply to a soldier, +who fetched a box of rifle grenades out of a cubbyhole and sent half a +dozen, one after the other, spinning at the German lines. Probably they +fell short, or perhaps the Germans were simply sullen. At any rate, they +paid no attention. They were not disposed into being prodded to show +off for American visitors. + +The officer suddenly thought up a method to retrieve the lost reputation +of his trench. If we could only stay until dark he would send us all out +on a patroling party right up to the wire in front of the German first +line. We declined, and made some little haste to leave this ever so +obliging officer. In another moment we feared he would organize an +exhibition offensive for our benefit and reserve us places in the first +wave. + +If things were quiet on the ground there was plenty of activity aloft. +It was a clear day, and both sides had big sausage balloons up for +observation. Once a German plane tried to attack a French sausage, but +it was driven off, and all day long the Germans sought without success +to wing the balloon with one of their long range guns. In that +particular sector on that particular day the French unquestionably had +the mastery of the air. We saw four of their 'planes in the air to every +one German, and once a fleet of five cruised over the German lines. The +Boche opened on them with shrapnel. It was a clear day, without a +breath of wind, and the white puffs clung to the sky at the point where +they broke. Presently the French planes swooped much lower, and the +Germans opened on them with machine guns. Somebody has said that machine +gun fire sounds as if a crazy carpenter was shingling a roof, and +somebody else has compared the noise to a typewriter being operated in +an upper room, but it is still more like a riveting machine. It has a +business-like, methodical sound to me. To my ear there is no malice in a +machine gun, but then I have never heard it from an aeroplane. + +The officer in charge accompanied us to the end of the communicating +trench. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +We told him that we were going directly to Paris. + +"Have a good time," he said, "but leave one dinner and one drink for +me." + +"You are going to Paris?" we asked. + +He looked over toward the German wire and smiled a little. "I may," he +said. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +VERDUN + + +From the hills around Verdun we saw the earth as it must have looked on +perhaps the fourth day of creation week. It was all frowsy mud and +slime. Man was down deep in the dust from which he will spring again +some day. There was not even a foothold for poppies on the hills around +Verdun, for mingled with the old earth scars were fresh ones, and there +will be more tomorrow. + +The Germans have been pushed back of the edges of the bowl in which +Verdun lies, and now their only eyes are aeroplanes. Big naval guns are +required to reach the city itself, but the Germans are not content to +leave the battered town alone. They bang away at ruins and kick a city +which is down. They fire, too, at the citadel, but do no more than +scratch the top of this great underground fortress. + +Our guide and mentor at Verdun was a distinguished colonel, very +learned in military tactics and familiar with every phase of the various +Verdun campaigns. The extent of his information was borne home to us the +first day of the trip, for he stood the party on top of Fort Souville +and carried on a technical talk in French for more than half an hour, +while German shells, breaking a few hundred yards away, sought in vain +to interrupt him. + +From the top of Souville it was possible to see gun flashes and to spy, +now and again, aeroplanes which darted back and forth all day, but not a +soldier of either side was to be seen through the strongest glasses. On +no front have men dug in so deeply as at Verdun. They have good reason +to snuggle into the earth, for the French have a story that one of their +projectiles killed men in a dugout seventy-five feet below the surface. +They thought that this terrific penetration must have been due to the +fact that the shell hit fairly upon a crack in the concrete and wedged +its way through. + +Barring plumbing, which is always an after thought in France, the French +make the underground dwellings of the soldiers moderately comfortable. +There are ventilating plants and electric lights, and in the citadel a +motion picture theater. In one underground stronghold we found the +telephone central for all the various positions around Verdun. We +wondered whether or not he was ever obliged to report, "Your party +doesn't answer." + +We traveled far underground, and at last the colonel brought us out +again near the high, bare spot where the automobiles had been left. As +we walked down the road there was a particularly vicious bang some place +to our left. + +"That wasn't very far away," said the colonel. + +This was the first shell which had stirred him to interest or attention. +Presently there came another bang, and this seemed just as loud. The +colonel paused thoughtfully. + +"Maybe one of their aeroplanes has seen us and spotted us for the +artillery," he said. "Tell the chauffeurs to turn the cars around at +once, and we'll go." + +The chauffeurs turned the cars with commendable alacrity and the +colonel walked slowly toward them. But his roving glance rested for an +instant upon a little ridge across the valley to his left which brought +memories to his mind and he stopped in the middle of the road and began: +"In the Spring of 1915----" On and on he went in his beautiful French +and described some small affair which might have influenced the entire +subsequent course of events. It seemed that if the Germans had varied +their plan a little the French defensive scheme would have been upset +and all sorts of things would have happened. At the end of twenty +minutes he had done full justice to the subject and then he recollected. + +"We'd better go now," he said, "the Germans may have spotted us." + +We messed with the French officers in the citadel that night and found +that they were ready to converse on almost any subject but the war. +Literature was their favorite topic. Although the colonel spoke no +English, he was familiar with much American literature in translation. +Poe he knew well, and he had read a few things of Mark Twain's. +Somebody mentioned William James, and a captain quoted at length from +an essay called "A Moral Equivalent for War." The lieutenant on my right +wanted to know whether Americans still read Walt Whitman, and I wondered +whether the same familiarity with French literature would be encountered +in any American mess. This little lieutenant had been a professor or +instructor some place or other when the war began and had several +poetical dramas in verse to his credit. He had written a play called +"Dionysius" in rhymed couplets. At the beginning of the war he had +enlisted as a private and had seen much hard service, which had brought +him two wounds, a medal and a commission. He hoped ardently to survive +the war, for he felt that he could write ever so much better because he +had been thrown into close relationship with peasants and laborers. He +found their talk meaty, and at times rich in poetry. One day, he +remembered, his regiment had marched along a country road in a fine +spring dawn. His comrade to the right, a Parisian peddler, remarked as +they passed a gleaming forest: "There is a wood where God has slept." +The little lieutenant said that if he had the luck to live through the +war he was going to write plays without a thought of the Greeks and +their mythology. He hoped, if he should live, to write for the many as +well as the few. I wondered to myself just what sort of plays one of our +American highbrows would write if he served a campaign with the 69th or +drove an army mule. + +The French army tries to let the men at the front live a little better +than elsewhere if it is possible to get the food up to them. In the +citadel at Verdun the men dine in style now that the incoming roads are +pretty much immune from shell fire. Our luncheon with the officers on +the night of the twenty-fifth of September, for instance, consisted of +hors d'oeuvres, omelette aux fines herbes, bifsteck, pommes +parmentier, confitures, dessert, café, champagne and pinard. And for +dinner we had potage vermicelli, oefs bechamel, jambon aux epinards, +chouxfleur au jus, duchesse chocolat, fruits, dessert, café and, of +course, champagne and pinard. + +We spent the night in the citadel and a little after midnight the German +planes came over. They bombed the town and dropped a few missiles on the +citadel, but they did no more than dent the roof a bit. Our rooms were +almost fifty meters underground and the bombs sounded little louder than +heavy rain on the roof. Certainly they did not disturb the Frenchman +just down the hall. His snores were ever so much louder than the German +bombs. + +On the morning of our second day we crossed the Meuse and drove down +heavily camouflaged roads to Charny. Five hundred yards away a French +battery was under heavy bombardment from big German guns. We could see +the earth fly up from hits close to the gun emplacements. Five hundred +yards away men were being killed and wounded, but the soldiers in Charny +loafed about and smoked and chatted and paid no attention. This +bombardment was not in their lives at all. The men of the battery might +have been the folk who walk upside down on the other side of the earth. + +"The last time I came to Charny," said the Colonel, "I had to get in a +dugout and stay five hours because the Germans bombarded it so hard. + +"But that was in the afternoon," he reassured us; "the Germans never +bombard Charny in the morning." + +We stood and watched the two sheets of fire poured upon the battery +until somebody called attention to the fact that it was almost noon and +we returned to the citadel. And at two o'clock that afternoon we stood +on a hilltop overlooking the valley and sure enough the Germans were +giving Charny its daily strafe. Shells were bursting all around the +peaceful road we had traveled in the morning. Probably by now the men in +the battery were idling about and taking their ease. After all there is +something to be said for a foe who plays a system. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +WE VISIT THE BRITISH ARMY + + +He was twenty-six and a major, but he was three years old in the big +war, and that is the only age which counts today in the British army. +The little major was the first man I ever met who professed a genuine +enthusiasm for war. It had found him a black sheep in the most remote +region of a big British colony and had tossed him into command of +himself and of others. Utterly useless in the pursuit of peace, war had +proved a sufficiently compelling schoolmaster to induce the study of +many complicated mechanical problems, of subtler ones of psychology, not +to mention two languages. It is true that his German was limited to +"Throw up your hands" and "Come out or we'll bomb you," but he could +carry on a friendly and fairly extensive conversation in French. The +tuition fee was two wounds. + +He was a fine, fair sample of the slashing, swanking British army which +backs its boasts with battalions and makes its light words good with +heavy guns. We rode together in a train for several hours on the way to +the British front and when I told him I was a newspaper man he was eager +to tell me something of what the British army had done, was doing and +would do. + +"If they'd cut out wire and trenches and machine guns and general +staffs," said the little major, "we'd win in two months." Without these +concessions he did not expect to see the end for at least a year. +However, he was concerned for the most part with more concrete things +than predictions, and I'd best let him wander on as he did that +afternoon with no interruption save an occasional question. He was +returning to the front after being wounded. There had been boating and +swimming and tennis and "a deuced pretty girl" down there at the resort +where he had been recuperating, and yet he was glad to be back. + +"You see," the little major explained, "I have been in all the shows +from the beginning and I'd feel pretty rotten if they were to pull +anything off without me. The C.O. wants me back. I have a letter here +from him. He tells me to take all the time I need, but to get back as +soon as I can. The C.O. and I have been together from the beginning. It +isn't that the new fellow isn't all right. Quite likely he's a better +officer than I am, but the C.O. wants the old fellows that he's seen in +other shows and knows all about. That's why I want to get back. I want +to see what the new fellow's doing with my men." + +He limped a little still, and I pressed him to tell me about his wound. +It seemed he got it in "the April show." + +"There was a bit of luck about that," he said. "I happened to take my +Webley with me when we went over, as well as my cane. They've got a +silly rule now that officers mustn't carry canes in an attack and that +they must wear Tommies' tunics, so the Fritzies can't spot them. They +say we lose too many officers because they expose themselves. Nobody +pays much attention to that rule. You won't find many officers in +Tommies' tunics, but you will find 'em out in front with their canes. + +"And there's sense to it. I've always said that I wouldn't ask my men to +go any place I wasn't willing to go and to go first. 'Come on,' that's +what we say in the British army. The Germans drive their men from +behind. Some of their officers are very brave, you know, but that's the +system. I remember in one show we were stuck at the third line of barbed +wire. The guns hadn't touched it, but it wasn't their fault. There was a +German officer there, and he stood up on the parapet, and directed the +machine gun fire. He'd point every place we were a little thick and then +they'd let us have it. We got him, though. I got a machine gunner on +him. Just peppered him. He was a mighty brave officer." + +I reminded the little major that I wanted to hear about his wound. + +"We were coming through a German trench that had been pretty well +cleaned out, but close up against the back there was a soldier hiding. +When I came by he cut at me with his bayonet. He only got me in the +fleshy part of my leg, and I turned and let him have it with my Webley. +Blew the top of his head right off. Silly ass, wasn't he? Must have +known he'd be killed." + +I asked him if his wound hurt, and he said no, and that he was able to +walk back, and felt quite chipper until the last mile. + +"The first thing a wounded man wants to do," he explained, "is to get +away. If he's been hit he gets a sudden crazy fear that he's going to +get it again. Most wounds don't hurt much, and as soon as a man's out of +fire and puts a cigarette in his mouth he cheers up. He's at his best if +it's a blighty hit." + +Here I was forced to interrupt for information. + +"A blighty hit! Don't you know what that is? It's from the song they +sing now, 'Carry Me Back to Blighty.' Blighty's England. I think it's a +Hindustani word that means home, but I won't be sure about that. Anyhow, +a blighty hit's not bad enough to keep you in France, but bad enough to +send you to England. Those are the slow injuries that aren't so very +dangerous. + +"Next to getting to Blighty a fellow wants a cigarette. I never saw a +man hit so bad he couldn't smoke. I saw a British 'plane coming down one +day and the tail of it was red. The Germans fix up their machines like +that, but I knew this wasn't paint on a British plane. He made a tiptop +landing, and when he got out we saw part of his shoulder was shot away +and he had a hole in the top of his head. 'That was a close call,' he +said, and he took out a cigarette, lighted it and took two puffs. Then +he keeled over." + +The little major and I got out to stretch our legs at a station +platform, and I noticed that salutes were punctiliously given and +returned. "I suppose," I said, quoting a bit of misinformation somebody +had supplied, "that out at the front all this saluting is cut out." + +"No, sir," said the little major sternly. "Somebody told that to the +last batch of recruits that was sent over, but we taught 'em better +soon. They don't get the lay of it quite. It isn't me they salute; it's +the King's uniform. Of course, I don't expect a man to salute if I pass +him in a trench; but if he's smoking a cigarette I expect him to throw +it away and I expect him to straighten up. + +"You've got to let up on some things, of course. There's shaving now. I +expect my men to shave every day when they're not in the line, but you +can't expect that in the trenches. Naturally, I shave myself every day +anyhow, but I'm lenient with the men. I don't insist on their shaving +more than every other day." + +When I got to the château where the visiting correspondents stay I found +the officers at mess. There were four British officers, a Roumanian +general, a member of Parliament, a Dutch painter and an American +newspaperman. As at Verdun the conversation had swung around to +literature. It all began because somebody said something about Shaw +having put up at the château when he visited the front. + +"Awful ass," said an English officer who had met the playwright out +there. "He was no end of nuisance for us. Why, when he got out here we +found he was a vegetarian, and we had to chase around and have +omelettes fixed up for him every day." + +"I censored his stuff," said another. "I didn't think much of it, but I +made almost no changes. Some of it was a little subtle, but I let it get +by." + +"I heard him out here," said a third officer, "and he talked no end of +rot. He said the Germans had made a botch of destroying towns. He said +he could have done more damage to Arras with a hammer than the Germans +did with their shells. Of course, he couldn't begin to do it with a +hammer, and, anyway, he wouldn't be let. I suppose he never thought of +that. Then he said that the Germans were doing us a great favor by their +air raids. He said they were smashing up things that were ugly and +unsanitary. That's silly. We could pull them down ourselves, you know, +and, anyhow, in the last raid they hit the postoffice." + +"The old boy's got nerve, though," interrupted another officer. "I was +out at the front with him near Arras and there was some pretty lively +shelling going on around us. I told him to put on his tin hat, but he +wouldn't do it. I said, 'Those German shell splinters may get you,' and +he laughed and said if the Germans did anything to him they'd be mighty +ungrateful, after all he'd done for them. He don't know the Boche." + +"He told me," added a British journalist, "'when I want to know about +war I talk to soldiers.' I asked him: 'Do you mean officers or Tommies?' +He said that he meant Tommies. + +"Now you know how much reliance you can put in what a Tommy says. He'll +either say what he thinks you want him to say or what he thinks you +don't want him to say. I told Shaw that, but he paid no attention." + +Here the first officer chimed in again. "Well, I stick to what I've said +right along. I don't see where Shaw's funny. I think he's silly." + +The major who sat at the head of the table deftly turned the +conversation away from literary controversy. "What did you think of +Conan Doyle?" he said. + + * * * * * + +Bright and early next morning we started out to follow in the footsteps +of Shaw. We went through country which had been shocked and shaken by +both sides in their battles and then dynamited in addition by the +retreating Germans. I stood in Peronne which the Germans had dynamited +with the greatest care. They left the town for dead, but against a +shattered wall was a sign which read, "Regimental cinema tonight at the +Splinters--CHARLIE CHAPLIN IN SHANGHAIED." This was first aid. A frozen +man is rubbed with snow and a town which has suffered German +frightfulness is regaled with Charlie Chaplin. + +Life will come back to that town in time and to others. After all life +is a rubber band and it will be just as it was only an instant after +they let go. We turned down the road to Arras and drove between fields +which had been burned to cinders and trodden into mud by men and guns +only a few weeks ago. Now the poppies were sweeping all before them. +Into the trenches they went and over. First line, second line, third +line, each fell in turn to the redcoats. They were so thick that the +earth seemed to bleed for its wounds. + +Presently we were in Arras and our officer led us into the cathedral. +"We won't stay in here long," said the officer. "The Germans drop a +shell in here every now and then and the next one may bring the rest of +the walls down. People keep away from here." This indeed seemed a very +citadel of destruction and loneliness, but as we turned to go we heard a +mournful noise from an inner room. We investigated and found a Tommy +practicing on the cornet. He was playing a piece entitled, "Progressive +Exercises for the Cornet--Number One." He stood up and saluted. + +"Have the Germans bombarded the town at all today?" the captain asked. + +"Yes, sir," said the Tommy. "They bombarded the square out in front here +this morning." + +"Did they get anybody?" + +"No, sir, only a Frenchman, sir," replied the Tommy with stiff +formality. + +"Was there any other activity?" + +"Yes, sir, there were some aeroplanes over about an hour ago and they +dropped some bombs in there," said the Tommy indicating a street just +back of the cathedral. + +"And what were we doing?" persisted the captain. + +"We were trying out some new anti-aircraft ammunition," explained the +Tommy patiently, "but I don't think it was any good, sir, because most +of it came down and buried itself over there," and he indicated a spot +some fifteen or twenty feet from his music room. + +The captain could think of no more inquiries just then and the soldier +quickly folded up his cornet and his music and after saluting with +decent haste left the cathedral. For the sake of his music he was +willing to endure shells and bombs and shrapnel fragments but questions +put him off his stride entirely. He fled, perhaps, to some shell hole +for solitude. + +From the cathedral we went to the town hall. Here again one could not +but be impressed with the futility of destruction. The Germans have torn +the building cruelly with their shells and their dynamite, but beauty is +tough. Dynamite a bakeshop and you have only a mess. Shell a tailor's +and rubbish is left. But it is different when you begin to turn your +guns against cathedrals and town halls. If a structure is built +beautifully it will break beautifully. The dynamite has cut fine lines +in the jagged ruins of the Town Hall. The Germans have smashed +everything but the soul of the building. They didn't get that. It was +not for want of trying, but dynamite has its limitations. + +We got up to the lines the next day and had a fine view of the opposing +trench systems for ten or twelve miles. Our box seat was on top of a +hill just back of Messines ridge. We saw a duel between two aeroplanes, +the explosion of a munitions dump, and no end of big gun firing but the +officer who conducted us said that it was a dull morning. Our day on the +hill was a clear one after three days of low clouds, and all the fliers +were out in force. Almost two dozen British 'planes were to be seen from +the hilltop, as well as several captive balloons. Although the English +'planes flew well over the German lines, they drew no fire, but +presently the sky began to grow woolly. Little round white patches +appeared, one against the other, cutting the sky into great flannel +figures. Then we saw above it all a 'plane so high as to be hardly +visible. Indeed, we should not have seen it but for the telltale +shrapnel. These were our guns, and this was no friend. Now it was almost +over our heads. It seemed intent upon attacking one of the British +captive balloons, which could only stand and wait. The guns were +snarling now. We were close enough to hear the anger in every shot. The +shrapnel broke behind, below, above and in front of the aeroplane, but +on it sailed, untouched, like a glass ball in a Buffalo Bill shooting +trick. + +Yet here was no poor marksmanship, for at ten thousand feet the air +pilot has forty seconds to dodge each shell. He merely has to watch the +flash of the gun and then dive or rise or slide to right or left. +Sometimes, indeed, the shrapnel lays a finger on him, but he whirls away +out of its grip like a quarterback in a broken field. The guns stopped +firing, although the German was still above the British lines. Somebody +was up to tackle him at closer range. Where our 'plane came from we did +not know. The sky was filled all morning with English fliers, but each +appeared to have definite work in hand, and not one paid the slightest +attention to the German intruder. This was a special assignment. When we +caught sight of the English flier he had maneuvered into a position +behind his German adversary. We caught the flashes from the machine +guns, but we could hear no sound of the fight above us. The 'planes +darted forward and back. They were clever little bantams, these, and +neither was able to put in a finishing blow. Our stolid guiding officer +was up on his toes now and rooting as if it were some sporting event in +progress. Looking upward at his comrade, ten thousand feet aloft, he +cried: "Let him have it!" + +The hostile attitude of the spectators or something else discouraged the +German and he turned and made for his own lines. The Englishman pursued +him for a time and then gave up the chase. The consensus of opinion was +that the Briton had won the decision on points. + +"They've been making a dead set for our balloons all week," said an +English soldier after the German 'plane had been driven away. + +"If they get the balloon does that mean that they get the observer?" I +asked in my ignorance. + +"Lord bless you no," said the soldier. "No danger for 'im, sir. He just +jumps out with a parachute." + +Next we turned our attention to the big gun firing. We could see the +flash of the guns of both sides and hear the whistle of the shells. +After the flash one might mark the result if he had a sharp eye. There +was no trouble in following the progress of one particular British shell +for an instant after the flash a high column of smoke arose above a town +which the Germans held. A minute or so later we had our own column for a +German shell hit one of the many munition dumps scattered about behind +the British front. Our own hill was pocked with shell holes and the +tower near which we stood was nibbled nigh to bits and we had a wakeful, +stimulating feeling that almost any minute something might drop on or +near us. The Tommy with whom we shared the view undeceived us. + +"This hill!" he said. "Why there was a time when it was as much as your +life was worth to stand up here and now the place's nothing but a +bloomin' Cook's tour resort." + +Our last day with the army was spent at the University of Death and +Destruction where the men from England take their final courses in +warfare. We began with a class which was having a lesson in defense +against bombs. A tin can exploded at the feet of a Scotchman and +peppered his bare legs. Five hundred soldiers roared with laughter, for +the man in the kilt had flunked his recitation in "Trench Raiding." +Officially the Scot was dead, for the tin can represented a German bomb. +They were cramming for war in the big training camp and they played +roughly. The imitation bombs carried a charge of powder generous enough +to insure wholesome respect. The Scot, indeed, had to retire to have a +dressing made. + +The trench in which the class was hard at work was perfect in almost +every detail, save that it lacked a back wall. This was removed for the +sake of the audience. An instructor stood outside and every now and +again he would toss a bomb at his pupils. He played no favorites. The +good and the bad scholar each had his chance. In order to pass the +course the soldier had to show that he knew what to do to meet the bomb +attack. He might take shelter in the traverse; he might kick the bomb +far away; or, with a master's degree in view, he might pick up the +imitation bomb and hurl it far away before it could explode. Speed and +steady nerves were required for this trick. An explosion might easily +blow off a finger or two. Yet, after all, it was practice. Later there +might be other bombs designed for bigger game than fingers. + +We followed the students from bombs to bayonets. The men with the cold +steel were charging into dummies marked with circles to represent spots +where hits were likely to be vital. It looked for all the world like +football practice and the men went after the dummies as the tacklers +used to do at Soldiers' Field of an afternoon when the coach had pinned +blue sweaters and white "Y's" on the straw men. There was the same +severely serious spirit. In a larger field a big class was having +instruction in attack. Before them were three lines of trenches +protected by barbed wire ankle high. At a signal they left their trench +and darted forward to the next one. Here they paused for a moment and +then set sail for the second trench. At another signal they were out of +that and into a third trench. From here they blazed away at some targets +on the hill representing Germans and consolidated their positions. +Instructors followed the charge along the road which bordered the +instruction field. They mingled praise and blame, but ever they shouted +for speed. "Make this go now," would be the cry, and to a luckless wight +who had been upset by barbed wire and sent sprawling: "What do you mean +by lying there, anyhow?" + +It was a New Zealand company which I saw, and in the class were a number +of Maoris. These were fine, husky men of the type seen in the Hawaiian +Islands. All played the game hard, but none seemed so imaginatively +stirred by it as the Maoris. They were fairly carried away by the +enthusiasm of a charge, and left their trenches each time shouting at +top voice. The capture of the third trench by no means satisfied them. +They wanted to go on and on. If the officer had not called a halt +there's no telling but that they might have invaded the next field and +bayoneted the bombardiers. Over the hill there was a rattle of machine +guns and beyond that a more scattering volume of musketry. We stopped +and watched the men at their rifle practice. + +"You wouldn't believe it," said the instructor, "but we've got to keep +hammering it home to men that rifles are meant to shoot with. For a time +you heard nothing but bayonets. A gun might have been nothing more than +a pike. Later everything was bombs, and sometimes soldiers just stood +and waited till the Boches got close, so that they could peg something +at 'em. But when these men go away they're going to know that the bombs +and the bayonet are the frill. It's the shooting that counts." + +We saw a good deal of the British army during our trip but the thing +which gave me the clearest insight into the fundamental fighting, +sporting spirit of the army was a story which an officer told me of an +incident which occurred in the sector where he was stationed. An +enlisted man and an officer were trapped during a daylight patrol when a +mist lifted and they had to take shelter in a shell hole. They lay there +for some hours, and then the soldier endeavored to make a break back for +his own trenches. No sooner had his head and shoulders appeared above +the shell hole than a German machine gun pattered away at him. He was +hit and the officer started to climb up to his assistance. + +"No, don't come," said the soldier. "They got me, sir." He put his hand +up and indicated a wound on the left hand side of his chest. "It was a +damn good shot," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BACK FROM PRISON + + +France has a better right to fight than any nation in the world because +she can wage war, even a slow and bitter war, with a gesture. Misery +does not blind the French to the dramatic. Even the tears and the +heartache are made to count for France. We saw wounded men come back +from German prison camps and Lyons made the coming of these wrecked and +shattered soldiers a pageant. Gray men, grim men, silent men stood up +and shouted like boys in the bleachers because there was someone there +to greet them with the right word. There is always somebody in France +who has that word. + +This time it was a lieutenant colonel of artillery. He was a man big as +Jess Willard and his voice boomed through the station like one of his +own huge howitzers as he swung his arm above his head and said to the +men from Germany: "I want you all to join with me in a great cry. Open +your throats as well as your hearts. The cry we want to hear from you is +one that you want to give because for so long a time you have been +forbidden to cry 'Vive la France.'" The big man shouted as he said it, +but this time the howitzer voice was not heard above the roar of other +voices. + +The French soldiers who came back from Germany had been for some little +time in a recuperation camp in Switzerland. A few were lame, many were +thin and peaked and almost all were gray, but the Lyonnaise said that +this was not nearly so bad as the last train load of men from German +prisons. There were no madmen this time. + +The windows of the cars were crowded with faces as the train came slowly +into the station. There was no shouting until the big man made his +speech. Some of the returned prisoners waved their hands, but most of +them greeted the soldiers and the crowds which waited for them with +formal salutes. A file of soldiers was drawn up along the platform and +outside the station was a squad of cavalry trying to stand just as +motionless as the infantry. There were horns and trumpets inside the +station and out and they blew a nipping, rollicking tune as the train +rolled in. The wounded men, all but a few on stretchers, descended from +the cars in military order. Lame men with canes hopped and skipped in +order to keep step with their more nimble comrades. + +There was an old woman in black who darted out from the crowd and wanted +to throw her arms around the neck of a young soldier, but he waved to +her not to come. You see she still thought of him as a boy, but that had +been three years ago. He was a marching man now and it would never do to +break the formation. Group by group they came from the train with a new +blare of the trumpets for each unit. There were 416 French soldiers, +thirty-seven French officers and seventeen Belgians. They marched past +the receiving group of officers and saluted punctiliously, though it was +a little bit hard because their arms were full of flowers. When they had +all been gathered in the waiting room of the station the big colonel +made his speech. He did not speak very long because the returned +soldiers could see out of the corner of their eyes that just across the +room were big tables with scores of expectant and anticipatory bottles +of champagne. But there was fizz, too, to the talk of the big colonel. I +had the speech translated for me afterwards but I guessed that some of +it was about the Germans, for I caught the phrase "inhuman cruelty." + +"You have a right to feel now that you are back on the soil of France +after all these years of inhuman cruelty that your work is done," said +the colonel, "but there is still something that you must do. There is +something that you ought to do. You will tell everybody of the wrongs +the Germans have inflicted upon you. You will tell exactly what they +have done and you will thus serve France by increasing the hatred +between our people and their people." + +The soldiers and the crowd cheered then almost as loudly as they did +later in the great shout of "Vive la France." The gray men, the grim men +and the silent men were stirred by what the colonel said because they +did and will forever have a quarrel with the German people. + +"We are doubly glad to welcome you back to France because our hearts +have been so cheered by the coming of America," continued the colonel. +"Victory seems nearer and nearer and vengeance for all the things you +have endured." It was then that he snatched the great shout of "Vive la +France" from the crowd. + +As the din died down the corks began to pop and men who a little time +before had not even been sure of a proper ration of water began to gulp +champagne out of tin cups. The sting of the wine, the excitement and the +din were too much for one returned prisoner. He had scarcely lifted his +glass to his lips than he fell over in a heap and there was one more +weary wanderer to make his return sickabed in a stretcher. But the rest +marched better as they came out of the station with band tunes blaring +in their ears and God knows what tunes singing in their hearts as they +clanked along the cobbles. For they had been dead men and they were back +in France and there was sun in the sky. When they crossed the bridge +they broke ranks. The old woman in black was there and for just a minute +the marching man became a boy again. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +FINISHING TOUCHES + + +The American army had begun to find itself when October came round. +Perhaps it had not yet gained a complete army consciousness, but there +could be no doubt about company spirit. Chaps who had been civilians +only a few months before now spoke of "my company" as if they had grown +up with the outfit. They were also ready to declare loudly and profanely +in public places that H or L or K or I, as the case might be, was the +best company in the army. Some were willing to let the remark stand for +the world. + +Too much credit cannot be given to the captains of the first American +Expeditionary Force. A captain commands more men now than ever before in +the American army and he has more power. This was particularly true in +France where many companies had a little village to themselves. The +captain, therefore, was not only a military leader, a father confessor, +and a gents' furnisher, but also an ambassador to the people of a small +section of France. The colonels and majors and the rest are the fellows +who think up things to be done, but it is the captains who do them. + +Of course that wasn't the way the junior officers looked at it. A man +who was a first lieutenant when the army came to France told us: "A +first lieutenant is supposed to know everything and do everything; a +captain is supposed to know everything and do nothing, and a major is +supposed to know nothing and do nothing." + +We were delighted early this year when we heard that he had been made a +major, for we immediately sat down and telegraphed to him: "After what +you told us this summer, we are sure you will be an excellent major." + +By October much of the feeling between the officers of the regular army +and the reserve had been smoothed out, but it was not like that in the +early days. Once when a young reserve major was put in command of a +battalion, a regular army captain who was much his senior in years +observed: "I think there ought to be an army regulation that no reserve +officer shall be appointed to command a battalion without the consent of +his parents or guardian." But as the work grew harder and harder many +little jealousies of the army were simply sweated out. It was easy to do +that, for the American army woke up, or rather was awakened, every +morning at five o'clock. There was a Kansas farmer in one company who +was always up and waiting for the buglers. He said that the schedule of +the American army always left him at a loss as to what to do with his +mornings. But for the rest the trumpeters were compelled to blow their +loudest. Roll call was at five-thirty and this was followed with setting +up exercises designed to give the men an appetite for the six o'clock +breakfast. This was almost always a hearty meal. The poilus who began +the day with a cup of black coffee and a little war bread were amazed to +see the doughboys start off at daylight with Irish stew, or bacon or ham +or mush and occasionally eggs in addition to white bread and coffee. + +After breakfast came sick call, at which men who felt unable to drill +for any reason were obliged to talk it over with the doctor. Those who +had no ailments went to work vigorously in making up their cots and +cleaning their quarters. At seven they fell in and marched away to the +training ground. Mornings were usually devoted to bombing, machine gun +and automatic rifle practice. A little after eleven the doughboys +started back to their billets for dinner. This was likely to consist of +beans and boiled beef or salmon, or there would be a stew again or +corned beef hash. The most prevalent vegetables were potatoes and canned +corn. Dinner might also include a pudding, nearly always rice or canned +fruit. Sometimes there was jam and, of course, coffee and bread were +abundant. + +During the latter part of the training period the home dinner was often +omitted in favor of a meal prepared at the training ground. The +afternoon work began a little before two. Rifle practice, drills and +bayonet work were usually the phases of warfare undertaken at this time +of day. Labor ceased at four with supper, which was much the same sort +of meal as dinner, at five-thirty. After supper the soldier's time was +pretty much his own. He could loaf about the town hall and listen to the +army band play selections from "The Fair Co-ed," "The Prince of Pilsen" +or any one of a score of comic operas long dead and forgotten by +everyone but army bandmasters, or he could go to the Y.M.C.A. and read +or write letters or play checkers or perhaps pool of the sort which is +possible on a small portable table. He was due back in quarters and in +bed at nine and he was always asleep at one minute and thirty seconds +after nine. + +The training hours became more crowded, if not longer, as the time drew +nearer when the American army should go to the front. Everybody was +anxious that they should make a good showing. Trench problems had to be +considered and gas and bayonet work which was the phase in which the +training was lagging somewhat. It was also considered useful that the +men should have some experience with shell fire before they heard guns +fired in anger, and so it was arranged that a sham battle should take +place in which the French would fire a barrage over the heads of the +American troops. The first plan was that the doughboys should advance +behind this barrage as in actual warfare and attack a system of practice +trenches. Later it was decided that it was not worth while to risk +possible casualties, as the men could learn almost as much although held +four or five hundred yards behind the barrage. + +The bombardment began with thirty-six shots to the minute and was +gradually raised to fifty-two. The doughboys were allowed to sit down to +watch the show. Our soldiers seemed a bit unfeeling, for not one +expressed any regret at the destruction of Hindenburg, Ludendorff, and +Mackensen, although they had spent many a happy afternoon under the +broiling sun constructing this elaborate trench system. None of the men +seemed disturbed, either, by the unfamiliar whistling sounds over head. +All the doughboys wore steel helmets but two were slightly injured by +small fragments from shells which fell a little short. In both cases the +wounded man had lowered the protective value of his helmet somewhat by +sitting on it. After the first interest in the show wore off many proved +their ability to steal naps in spite of the bickering of the big guns. +The marines, for instance, had marched eighteen miles after rising at +3:30 in the morning, and although the marine corps is singularly hardy, +a few made up lost sleep. The patter of the French seventy-fives was no +more than rain on the roof to these men when they could find sufficient +cover to sleep unobserved. + +The most fortunate soldiers were those who were stationed in a fringe of +woods which bordered on the big meadow. Here the doughboys did a little +shooting on their own account when no officers were at hand. In a sudden +lull of gunfire I heard a voice say: "Shoot it all," and there was a +rattle of dice in the bottom of a steel helmet. + +When the bombardment was at its height a big hawk sailed over the field +full in the pathway of hundreds of shells. He circled about calmly in +spite of the shrieking things which whizzed by him and then he turned +contemptuously and flew away very slowly. Perhaps he was disappointed +because it was only a sham battle. + +Of course some of the officers saw the real thing. Many made trips to +the French front and a few fired some shots at the German lines just to +set a good precedent. American officers attended all the French +offensives of the summer as invited guests. Brigadier General George +Duncan and Lieutenant Colonel Campbell King were cited by the French +army for the croix de guerre after they had spent some thrilling hours +at Verdun. The awards were largely complimentary, of course, but the +American officers saw plenty of action. According to the French officers +General Duncan was at an advanced observation post when the Germans +spotted it and began pouring in shell. One fragment hit the General's +hat and the colonel in charge advised him that it would be well to move +back to a safer point of vantage. Duncan replied that this was the first +show he had ever seen and that he did not want to give up his front row +seat if he could help it. + +Lieutenant Colonel King paid visits to the first aid dressing stations +under heavy fire and encouraged the wounded with words of good cheer in +bad French. The night before the attack his dugout was flooded with +poison vapor from German gas shells, but he awoke in time to arouse his +two companions, who got their masks on in time to prevent injury. +Another American officer who shall be nameless found it difficult to sit +back as a spectator when so much was going on. He was a brigadier +general, but this was his first taste of war on a big scale. The French +offensive aroused his enthusiasm so much that he said to a fellow +American officer: "Nobody's watching us now, let's sneak up ahead there +and throw a few bombs." The second officer, who was only a captain, +reminded him of his rank. + +"I can't help that," said the General, "I've just got to try and see if +I can't bomb a few squareheads." Discipline was overlooked for a moment +then as the captain restrained the General with physical force from +going forward to try out his arm. + +The British now seem to be able to give the Germans more than they want +in gas, but this superiority did not come until late in the year. +American officers who went to the front returned with a profound respect +for German gas and, in fact, all gas. This feeling was reflected in the +thoroughgoing training which the men received in gas and masks. It began +with lectures by the company commanders in which it is certain no very +optimistic picture of poison vapor was painted. Then came long drills in +putting on the mask in three counts and holding the breath during the +adjustment. The contrivance used was not a little like a catcher's mask +and this simplified the problem somewhat. The men carried the masks with +them everywhere and developed great speed in getting under protection. +Conscientious officers harassed their men by calling out "gas attack" at +unexpected moments such as when men were shaving or eating or sleeping. +Finally the doughboys were actually sent through gas. + +Big air-proof cellars were constructed in each village and here the +tests were held. As a matter of fact, the gas used was a form of tear +gas, calculated to irritate the eyes and nose and perhaps to cause +blindness for a few hours. It would not cause permanent injury even if +a mask were improperly adjusted. The comparative harmlessness of the +test vapor was kept secret. When the men went down the steps they +thought that one whiff of the air in the cellar would be fatal and so +they were most careful that each strap should be in its place. Most of +them had shaved twice over on the morning of the test so that the mask +should fit closely to the side of the face. + +The first man to go in was a captain and when he came out again +obviously alive and seemingly healthy, the doughboys were ready to take +a chance. A young soldier in the second batch to visit the gas chamber +had taken the tales of the vapor horrors a bit too much to heart. He +became panicstricken after one minute in the underground vault and had +to be helped out, faint and trembling. + +"What's the matter?" said his officer. "Are you afraid?" + +"Yes, sir," the boy answered frankly. "But I want to try it again," he +added quickly. He did, too. And what is more, he remained in for an +extra period as self-discipline for his soul. When he came out he leaned +against a fence and was sick, but he was triumphant because he had +proved to himself that his second wind of grit was stronger than his +nerves or his stomach. + +As the afternoon wore on a trip through the gas chamber became a lark +rather than an adventure and each batch before it went in was greeted by +such remarks as "Never mind the good-byes, Snooty! Just pay me that $2 +you owe me before you check off." + +"Who invented this gas stuff, anyway?" asked a fat soldier, as he sat in +the stifling vault, puffing and perspiring. "The Germans," he was told. + +"Well," he panted, "I'm going to give 'em hell for this." + +There was other practice which seemed less warlike. Particular attention +was paid to signaling and men on hilltops stood and waved their arms at +each other from dawn until sunset. I stood one bright day with an expert +who was trying the utmost capacity of the man stationed on the hill +across the valley. The officer made the little flags whirl through the +air like bunting on a battleship. He looked across the peaceful +countryside and saw war dangers on every hand. The gas attack which his +flags predicted seemed nothing more to me than the dust raised by a +passing army truck. He signaled that the tanks were coming, but they +mooed as they moved and the aeroplanes of which he spoke in dots and +dashes cawed most distinctly. With a twist of his wrist he would summon +a battery and with another send them back again. There was an emphatic +whip and swirl of color, and in answer to the signal mythical infantry +swarmed over theoretical trenches to attack shadow soldiers. The task of +the receiving soldier was made more difficult because every now and then +the officer would vary his military messages with "Double-header at the +Polo Grounds today" or "Please pass the biscuits." But the soldier read +them all correctly. Biscuits were just as easy for him as bullets. + +The men were also tested for their ability to carry oral messages. As a +result of this drill there were several new mule drivers. The test +message was, "Major Blank sends his compliments to Captain Nameless and +orders him to move L company one-half mile to the east and support K +company in the attack." After giving out this message the officer moved +to the top of a hill to receive it. The first soldier who came up had +difficulty in delivering the message because English seemed more alien +to him than Italian. He had it all right at that, except that he made it +a mile and a half. The next three delivered the message correctly, but +then a large soldier came panting up, fairly bursting with excitement, +and exclaimed: "The major says he hopes you're feeling all right and +please take your company a mile to the east and attack K company." The +names of such careless messengers were noted down so that they might not +cause blunders in battle. + +Precaution was taken against another source of mistakes by sending +American officers out to drill French units. A few found no trouble in +giving orders which the poilus could understand, but some had bad cases +of stage fright. + +"I almost wiped out a French battalion," said one young West Pointer. "I +got 'em started all right with 'avance' and they went off at a great +clip. I noticed that there was a cliff right ahead of us and I began to +try and think how you said 'halt' in French. I couldn't remember and I +didn't want to get out in front and flag 'em by waving my arms, so we +just kept marching right on toward the cliff. They had their orders and +they kept on going. It began to look as if we'd all march right off the +cliff just to satisfy their pride and mine, but a French lieutenant came +to the rescue with 'a gauche en quatre!' I didn't know that one, but I +was a goat just the same. I could have gotten away with 'halt' all +right, because I found out afterwards that it's 'halte' in French and +that sounds almost the same." + +The British as well as the French helped in the final polishing of the +doughboys who were to go to the trenches. An English major and three +sergeants came to camp to teach bayonet work. They brought a healthy +touch of blunt criticism. The major told some young officers who were +studying in a training school that he wanted a trench dug. He told them +the length and the depth which he wanted and the time at which he +expected it to be finished. It was not done at the appointed hour. "Oh, +I say, that's rotten, you know!" exclaimed the big Englishman. The +American officer in charge was somewhat startled. The French were always +careful to phrase unfavorable criticism in pleasant words and there were +times when the sting was not felt. A rebuke so directly expressed +surprised the American so much that he started to make excuses for his +men. He explained that the soil in which they were digging was full of +rocks. The British major cut him short. + +"Never mind about the excuses," he said, "that was rotten work and you +know it." + +Curiously enough the American army got along very well with this +particular instructor and he on his part had the highest praise for the +capabilities of the American after he had sized them up in training. He +was more successful than the French in wheedling the Americans into +visualizing actual war conditions in their practice. + +"Never let your men remember that they are charging dummies," said the +visiting major to an American officer. "Make them think the straw men +are Germans. It can be done even without the use of dummies. Watch me." + +A remarkable demonstration followed. The major sent for a little Cockney +sergeant. "Now," he said, "this stick of mine with a knob on the end is +a German. Show these Americans how you would go after him." + +The little sergeant did some brisk work in slashing at the end of the +stick with his bayonet but the big major was not content. "Remember," he +said, "this is a German," and then he would add suddenly every now and +again: "Look out, my lad--he's coming at you!" + +And bye-and-bye the insinuation began to take effect. The little man had +spent two years on the line and it was easy to see that bit by bit he +was beginning to visualize the stick with a cloth knob as a Boche +adversary. His thrusts grew fiercer and fiercer. The point of his +bayonet flashed into the cloth knob again and again. He was trembling +with rage as he played the battle game. As he finally flung himself upon +the stick and knocked it out of the major's hands the officer called a +halt. + +"There," he said to the Americans, "if your men are to train well, +you've got to make them believe it's true, and you can do it." + +The British added lots of snap to the American training because they +knew how to arouse the competitive spirit. They made even the most +routine sort of a drill a game, and whether the men were bayoneting +dummies or shooting at tin cans the little Britishers kept them at top +speed by stirring up rivalry between the various organizations. +Sometimes the slang was a bit puzzling. The marines, for instance, +didn't know just what their bayonet instructor meant when he said: "Come +on, you dreadnoughts, give 'em the old 'kamerad.'" + +Curiously enough the other specialty in addition to bayonet work which +the British taught the doughboys was organized recreation. Thus a +British sergeant would take his squad from practicing the grimmest +feature of all war training and set the men to tossing beanbags or +playing leapfrog. Prisoner's base, red rover and a score of games played +in the streets of every American city were used to bring relaxation to +the soldiers. There were other rough and tumble games in which the +players buffeted each other assiduously in a neutral part of the body +with knotted towels. The emphasis was put upon the ludicrous in all +these games. + +"This may seem childish and silly to you," said the major, "but we have +found on the line that the quickest way to bring back the spirit of a +regiment which has been battered in battle is to take the men as soon as +they come from the trenches and set them to playing these foolish little +games which they knew when they were lads. When we get them to laughing +again we know we've made them forget the fight." + +Mostly it wasn't play. There were long mornings and afternoons spent in +battalion problems in which the doughboys again and again captured the +position made up of the trenches Roosevelt, Taft and Wilson. One general +pointed out that communication between Roosevelt and Taft would be +necessarily difficult and between Roosevelt and Wilson all but +impossible. The doughboys overcame these difficulties as they advanced +under theoretical barrages and hurled live bombs into the trenches or +thereabouts. + +The last set event of the training period was a big field meet in which +picked companies competed in military events. The meet began with +musketry and worked through bayonets, hand grenades, automatic rifles, +and machine guns, ending with trench digging. It was supposed that this +would be the least exciting, but two companies came up to the last event +tied for the point trophy. Honor and a big silver trophy and everything +hung on this last event and the men could not have worked harder if they +had been under German shellfire. Partisans of both sides stood nearby +and shouted encouragement to their friends and heavy banter at the foe. +There was organized cheering and singing, too, and a couple of bands +blared while the competitors lay prone and hacked away at the tough +soil. One band played "Won't You Come and Waltz With Me?" while the +other favored "Sweet Rosie O'Grady." Neither seemed particularly +pertinent, but there wasn't much sense of the appropriate in the third +band, either, which played "Dearie," while the soldiers were stabbing +imitation Boches in the bayonet contest. + +The champions of the pick and shovel brushed some of the dirt off their +uniforms and lined up to receive the prize, which was a big silver salad +bowl. The best bayoneters got a sugar shaker and there were mugs and +wrist watches and plain watches and all sorts of things from the +commander and from General Sibert and General Castelnau. No sooner were +the prizes distributed than news came that the White Sox had won the +first game of the world series from the Giants and then there was more +cheering. The winning company went back to camp in a big truck loudly +and tunefully proclaiming to the natives: "We got style, all the while, +all the while." + +The Germans contributed one post graduate phase of training which was +not on the program. Shortly before the troops went to the front a +Zeppelin was brought down in a town within marching distance of the +American training zone. The big balloon could not have been better +placed if its landing had been directed by a Coney Island showman. It +was perched on two hills just by the side of a road and visitors came +from miles about to look at the monster. Early comers reaped a rich +harvest of souvenirs. "I only had to get three more screws loose and I'd +have had the steering wheel if a French soldier hadn't come up and +stopped me," complained an American correspondent. + +The chasseurs left to go back into the line before the Americans started +for the front. The departure of the chasseurs caused genuine regret, for +in addition to a profound respect for their military ability, the +American officers and men had a warm personal feeling for the troops who +taught them the first rudiments of the modern art of war. In all the +camps there were ceremonies for the soldiers who were leaving drills and +practice attacks and sham battles to go back wherever shock troops were +needed. + +"When you see us later on some time," said an American officer, "we hope +to make you proud of your pupils." + +Although the French had already given the Americans all the fundamentals +they would need they spent their last few hours in giving them some of +the fine points and a minute description of just what conditions they +might expect at the front. + +"When you go up there," said a French officer, "the soldiers you come to +relieve will say that you are late. They will say that they have been +waiting a long time and they will go out very quickly. Always we find +when we come in that the troops in the trench have been waiting a long +time and always they go out very quickly." + +As the sturdy Frenchmen marched away their cries of "bonne chance" +mingled with equally hearty shouts of "good luck." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE AMERICAN ARMY MARCHES TO THE TRENCHES + + +THE chief press officer told us that we could spend the first night in +the trenches with the American army. There were eight correspondents and +we went jingling up to the front with gas masks and steel helmets hung +about our necks and canned provisions in our pockets. It was dusk when +we left ----. Bye-and-bye we could hear the guns plainly and the villages +through which we traveled all showed their share of shelling. The front +was still a few miles ahead of us, but we left the cars in the square of +a large village and started to walk the rest of the way. We got no +further than just beyond the town. An American officer stood at the foot +of an old sign post which gave the distance to Metz, but not the +difficulties. He asked us our destination and when we told him that we +were going to spend the first night in the trenches with the American +army he wouldn't hear of it. + +"There'll be trouble enough up there," he said, "without newspapermen." + +He was a nervous man, this major. Every now and then he would look at +his watch. When he looked for the fourth time within two minutes he felt +that we deserved an explanation. + +"I'm a little nervous," he said, "because the Boches are so quiet +tonight. I've been up here looking around for almost a week and every +night the Germans have done some shelling." He looked at his watch +again. "The first company of my battalion must be going in now." He +stood and listened for six or seven seconds but there wasn't a sound. "I +wonder what those Germans are up to?" he continued. "I don't like it. I +wish they'd shoot a little. This business now doesn't seem natural." + +We turned back toward the town and left the major at his post still +listening for some sound from up there. Soon we heard a noise, but it +came from the opposite direction. Soldiers were coming. There was a bend +in the road where it straightened out in the last two miles to the +trenches. It was so dark that we could not see the men until they were +almost up to us. The Americans were marching to the front. The French +had instructed them and the British and now they were ready to learn +just what the Germans could teach them. + +The night was as thick as the mud. The darkness seemed to close behind +each line of men as they went by. Even the usual marching rhythm was +missing. The mud took care of that. The doughboys would have sung if +they could. Shells wouldn't have been much worse than the silence. One +soldier did begin in a low voice, "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are +marching." An officer called, "Cut out that noise." There was no tramp, +tramp, tramp on that road. Feet came down squish, squish, squish. There +was also the sound of the wind. That wasn't very cheerful, either, for +it was rising and beginning to moan a little. It seemed to get hold of +the darkness and pile it up in drifts against the camouflage screens +which lined the road. + +At the spot where the road turned there was a café and across the road +a military moving picture theater. The door of the café was open and a +big patch of light fell across the road. The doughboys had to go through +the patch of light and it was almost impossible not to turn a bit and +look through the door. There was red wine and white to be had for the +asking there, and persuasion would bring an omelette. The waitress was +named Marie, but they called her Madelon. She was eighteen and had black +hair with red ribbons. She could talk a little English, too, but nobody +came to the door of the café to see the soldiers go by. There had been a +good many who passed the door of that café in three years. + +The pictures could not be seen from the road, but we could hear the hum +of the machine which made them move. Presently, we went to the door and +looked. The theater was packed with French soldiers who were back from +the front to rest. American troops were going into the trenches for the +first time. Our little group of civilians had come thousands of miles to +see this thing, but the poilus did not stop to watch marching men. They +paid their 10 centimes and went into the picture show. They had an +American Western film that night, and French soldiers who only the day +before had been face to face with Germans, shelled and gassed and +harassed from aeroplanes, thrilled as Indians chased cowboys across a +canvas screen. It grew more exciting presently, for the United States +cavalry came riding up across the screen and at the head of the +cavalcade rode Lieutenant Wallace Kirke. The villain had spread the +story that he wasn't game, but there was nothing to that. The poilus +realized that before the film was done and so did the Indians. + +Meanwhile the doughboys were marching by as silently as the soldiers on +the screen, for this wasn't a movie-house where they synchronized bugle +calls and rifle fire to the progress of the film. At one point in the +story there was some gun thunder, but it came at a time when the +orchestra should have been playing "Hearts and Flowers" for the love +scene in the garden. Of course, these were German guns, and they were +fired with the usual German disregard for art. + +Probably the men who were marching to the trenches would have enjoyed +the scene of the home-coming of the cavalry, when Lieutenant Wallace +Kirke confounded the villain, who actually held a commission as major in +the United States army. However, the doughboys might have spotted him +for a villain from the beginning, on account of his wretched saluting. +The director should have spoken to him about that. + +The marching men looked at the theater as they passed by, but only one +soldier spoke. He said: "I certainly would like to know for sure whether +I'll ever get to go to the movies again." + +They went a couple of hundred yards more without a word, and then a +soldier who couldn't stand the silence any longer shouted, "Whoopee! +Whoopee!" It was too dark to conduct an investigation and too close to +the line to administer any rebuke loud enough to be effective, and so +the nearest officer just glared in the general direction of the +offender. A little bit further on the soldiers found that the road was +pock-marked here and there with shell holes. They began to realize the +importance of silence then, for they knew that where a shell had gone +once it could go again. It was necessary to walk carefully, for the road +was covered with casual water in every hollow, and there was no seeing a +hole until you stepped in it. They managed, however, to avoid the deeper +holes and to jump most of the pools. + +That is, the infantry did. Late that night a teamster reported that he +had driven his four mules into a shell hole and broken the rear axle of +his wagon. + +"Why didn't you send a man out ahead to look out for shell holes?" asked +the officer. + +"I did," said the soldier. "He fell in first." + +Presently the marching men came to the beginning of the trench system, +and they were glad to get a wall on either side of them. There was no +scramble, however, to be the first man in, and even the major of the +battalion has forgotten the name of the first soldier to set foot in the +French trenches. Some twenty or thirty men claim the honor, but it will +be difficult to settle the matter with historical accuracy. A Middle +Western farm boy, an Irishman with red hair or a German-American would +seem to fit the circumstances best, but it's all a matter of choice. As +the Americans came in the French marched out. + +A trench during a relief is no good place for a demonstration, but some +of the poilus paused to shake hands with the Americans. There were +rumors that one or two doughboys had been kissed, but I was unable to +substantiate these reports. Probably they are not true, for it would not +be the sort of thing a company would forget. + +Although the trenches for the most part were far from the German lines, +there was noise enough to attract attention over the way. The Germans +did not seem to know what was going on, but they wanted to know, and +they sent up a number of star shells. These are the shells which explode +to release a bright light suspended from a little silk parachute. These +parachutes hung in the air for several minutes and brightly illumined No +Man's Land. It was impossible to keep the Americans entirely quiet then. +Some said "Oh!" and others exclaimed "Ah!" after the manner of crowds at +a fire-works show. + +Persiflage of this kind helped to make the men feel at home. Indeed, +the trenches did not seem altogether unfamiliar, after all their days +and nights in the practice trenches back in camp. The men were a little +nervous, though, and took it out in smoking one cigarette after another. +They shielded the light under their trench helmets. After an hour or so +a green rocket went up and all the soldiers in the American trenches put +on their gas masks. They had been drilled for weeks in getting them on +fast and a green rocket was the signal agreed upon as the warning for an +attack. Presently the word came from the trenches that the masks were +not necessary. There had been no attack. The rocket came from the German +trenches. It was quiet then all along the short trench line with the +exception of an occasional rifle shot. The wind was making a good deal +of noise out in the mess of weeds just beyond the wire and it sounded +like Germans to some of the boys. It was clearer now and a sharp eyed +man could see the stakes of the wire. They were a bit ominous, too. + +"I was looking at one of those stakes," a doughboy told me, "and I kept +alooking and alooking and all of a sudden it grew a pair of shoulders +and a helmet and I let go at it." + +There were others who suffered from the same optical illusion that +night, but let it be said to their credit that when a working party +examined the wire several days later they found some stakes which had +been riddled through and through with bullets. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TRENCH LIFE + + +They dragged the gun up by hand to fire the first shot in the war for +the American army. The lieutenant in charge of the battery told us about +it. He was standing on top of the gun emplacement and the historic +seventy-five and a few others were being used every little while to fire +other shots at the German lines. He had to pause, therefore, now and +then in telling us history to make a little more. + +"I put it up to my men," said the lieutenant, "that we would have to +wait a little for the horses and if we wanted to be sure of firing the +first shot it would be a good stunt to drag the gun into place +ourselves. We had a little talk and everybody was anxious for our +battery to get in the first shot, so we decided to go through with it +and not wait for the horses. We dragged the gun up at night and I can +tell you that the last mile and a half took some pulling. Excuse me a +second----" He leaned down to the pit and began to shout figures. He +made them quick and snappy like a football signal and he looked exactly +like a quarterback with the tin hat on his head which might have been a +leather head guard. There was a sort of eagerness about him, too, as if +the ball was on the five-yard line with one minute more to play. It was +all in his manner. Everything he said was professional enough. After the +string of figures he shouted "watch your bubble" and then he went on +with the story. + +"We fired the first shot at exactly six twenty-seven in the morning," he +said. "It was a shrapnel shell." He turned to the gunners again. "Ready +to fire," he shouted down to the men in the pit. "You needn't put your +fingers in your ears just yet," he told us. + +"It was pretty foggy when we got up to the front and we thought first +we'd just have to blaze away in the general direction of the Germans +without any particular observation. But all of a sudden the fog lifted +and right from here we could see a bunch of Germans out fixing their +wire. I gave 'em shrapnel and they scattered back to their dugouts like +prairie dogs. It was great!" + +The lieutenant smiled at the recollection of the adventure. It meant as +much to him as a sixty-yard run in the Princeton game or a touchdown +against Yale. He was fortunate enough to be still getting a tingle out +of the war that had nothing to do with the cold wind that was coming +over No Man's Land. A moment later he grinned again and he suddenly +called, "Fire," and the roar of the gun under our feet came quicker than +we could get our fingers in our ears. + +The gun had earned a rest now and we went down and looked at it. The +gunners had chalked a name on the carriage and we found that this +seventy-five which fired the first shot against the Germans was called +Heinie. We wanted to know the name of the man who fired the first shot. +Our consciences were troubling us about that. This was our first day up +with the guns in the American sector and the men had been in two days. +There were drawbacks in writing the war correspondence from a distance +as we had been compelled to do up to this time. We'd heard, of course, +that the first gun had been fired and that made it imperative that the +story should be "reconstructed," as the modern newspaperman says when +he's writing about something which he didn't see. Of course, everybody +back home would want to know who fired the first shot. Censorship +prevented the use of the name, but we couldn't blame the censors for +that, because when we wrote the stories we didn't know his name or +anything about him. With just one dissenting vote the correspondents +decided that the man who fired the first shot must have been a +red-headed Irishman. And so it was cabled. Now we wanted to know whether +he was. + +The lieutenant told us the name, but that didn't settle the question. It +was a more or less non-committal name and the officer volunteered to +find out for us. He led the party over to the mouth of another dugout +and called down: "Sergeant ----, there's some newspapermen here and they +want to know whether you're Irish." + +Immediately there was a scrambling noise down in the dugout and up came +the gunner on the run. "I am not," he said. + +"Haven't you got an Irish father or mother or aren't any of your people +Irish?" asked one of the correspondents hopefully. He was committed to +the red-headed story and he was not prepared to give up yet. "Not one of +'em," said the sergeant, "I haven't got a drop of Irish blood in me. I +come from South Bend, Indiana." + +The party left the gunner rather disconsolately. That is, all but the +hopeful correspondent. "He's Irish, all right," he said. We turned on +the optimist. + +"Didn't you hear him say he wasn't Irish?" we shouted. + +"Oh, that's all right," answered the optimist, "you didn't expect he was +going to admit it. They never do." + +"Say," inquired another reporter, "did anybody notice what was the color +of the sergeant's hair?" + +I had, but I said nothing. There had been disillusion enough for one +day. It was black with a little gray around the temples. + +The lieutenant took us to his dugout and we tried to get some copy out +of him. A man from an evening newspaper spoiled our chances right away. + +"I suppose," he said, "that you made a little speech to the men before +they fired that first shot?" + +The little lieutenant was professional in an instant. He felt a sudden +fear that his manner or his youth had led us to picture him as a +romantic figure. + +"What would I make a speech for?" he inquired coldly. + +"Well," said the reporter, "I should think you'd want to say something. +You were going to fire the first shot of the war, and more than that, +you were going to fire the first shot in anger which the American army +has ever fired in Europe. Of course, I didn't mean a speech exactly, but +you must have said something." + +"No," answered the officer, "I just gave 'em the range and then I said +'ready to fire' and then, 'fire.' It was just like this afternoon. We +made it perfectly regular." + +"In the army a thing like that's just part of the day's work," the +lieutenant added, with an attempted assumption of great sophistication +in regard to war matters, as if this was at least his twentieth +campaign. + +And yet I think that if we had heard our little quarterback give his +order at six twenty-seven on that misty morning there would have been +something in his voice when he said "fire" which would have betrayed him +to us. I think it must have been a little sharper, a little faster and a +little louder for this first shot than it will be when he calls "fire" +for the thousand-and-tenth round. + +The guns had decided to call it a day by this time and so we headed for +the trenches. We had to travel across a big bare stretch of country +which was wind-swept and rain-soaked on this particular afternoon. Every +now and then somebody fell into a shell hole, for the meadow was well +slashed up, although there didn't seem to be anything much to shoot at. +On the whole, the sector chosen for the first Americans in the trenches +might well be called a quiet front. There was shelling back and forth +each day, but many places were immune. Some villages just back of the +French lines had not been fired at for almost a year, although they were +within easy range of field pieces, and the French in return didn't fire +at villages in the German lines. This was by tacit agreement. Both sides +had held the lines in this part of the country lightly and both sides +were content to sit tight and not stir up trouble. + +Things livened up after the Americans came in because the Germans soon +found out that new troops were opposing them and they wanted to identify +the units. Some of the increasing liveliness was also due to the fact +that American gunners were anxious to get practice and fired much more +than the French had done. Indeed, an American officer earned a rebuke +from his superiors because he fired into a German village which had been +hitherto immune. This was a mistake, for the Germans immediately +retaliated by shelling a French village and the civilian population was +forced to move out. For more than a year they had lived close to the +battle lines in comparative safety. On the night the American troops +moved in to the trenches a baby was born in a village less than a mile +from one of our battalion headquarters. Major General Sibert became her +godfather and the child was christened Unis in honor of Les Etats Unis. + +The increase in artillery activity had hardly begun on the day we paid +our visit. No German shells fell near us as we crossed the meadow, but +when we reached a battalion headquarters the major in charge pointed +with pride to a German shell which had landed on top of his kitchen that +morning. The rain had played him a good service, for the shell simply +buried itself, fragments and all. He did not seem properly appreciative +of the weather. "All Gaul," he said, "is divided into three parts and +two of them are water." + +Still, we found ourselves drier in the trenches than out of them. They +were floored with boards and well lined. As trenches go they were good, +but, of course, that isn't saying a great deal. We were the first +newspapermen to enter the American trenches and so we wanted to see the +first line, although it was growing dark. We wound around and around +for many yards and it was hard walking for some of us, as the French had +built these trenches for short men. It was necessary to walk with a +crouch like an Indian on the movie warpath. This was according to +instructions, but we may have been unduly cautious, for not a hostile +shot was fired while we were in the first line. It was barely possible +to see the German trenches through the mist and still more difficult to +realize that there was a menace in the untidy welts of mud which lay at +the other side of the meadow. But the point from which we looked across +to the German line was the very salient where the Germans made their +first raid a week later and captured twelve men, killed three, and +wounded five. + +The doughboys wouldn't let us go without pointing out all the sights. To +the right was the apple tree. Here the Germans used to come on Mondays, +Wednesdays and Fridays and the French on Tuesdays, Thursdays and +Saturdays, and gather fruit without molestation so long as not more than +two came at a time. This was another tacit agreement in this quiet +front, for the tree was in easy rifle range. One of the doughboys +unwittingly broke that custom by taking a shot at two Germans who went +to get apples. + +"I like apples myself," he said, "and I just couldn't lie still and +watch a squarehead carry them away by the armful." + +The Hindenburg Rathskeller lay to the left of our trench, but it was +only dimly visible through the rain. This battered building was once a +tiny roadside café. Now patrols take shelter behind its walls at night +and try to find cheer in the room where only a few broken bottles +remain. The poilus maintain that on dark nights the ghosts of cognac, of +burgundy and even champagne flit about in and out of the broken windows +and that a lucky soldier may sometimes detect, by an inner warmth and +tingle, the ghost of some drink that is gone. Sometimes it is a German +patrol which spends the night in No Man's Café. It is more or less a +custom to allow whichever side gets to the café first to hold it for the +night, since it is a strong defensive position in the dark. The night +before our visit an American patrol reached the café and found that the +Germans who had been there the night before had placed above the +shattered door of the little inn a sign which read: "Hindenburg +Rathskeller." Silently but swiftly one of the doughboys scratched out +the name with a pencil and left a sign of his own. When next the Germans +came they found that Hindenburg Rathskeller had become the Baltimore +Dairy Lunch. + +Several hundred yards behind the Baltimore Dairy Lunch is another ruined +house and it was here that the Americans killed their first German. Even +on clear days Germans in groups of not more than two would sometimes +come from their trenches to the house. The French thought that they had +a machine gun there, but it was not worth while to waste shells on +parties of one or two and as the range was almost 1700 yards the Germans +felt comparatively immune from rifle fire. Two doughboys saw a German +walking along the road one bright morning and as they had telescopic +sights on their rifles they were anxious to try a shot. One of the men +was a sergeant and the other a corporal. + +"That's my German," said the sergeant. + +"I saw him first," objected the corporal, and so they agreed to count +five and then fire together. One or both of them hit him, for down he +came. + +When we got back to the second line the men were having supper. The food +supplied to the soldiers in the trenches was hot and adequate and +moderately abundant. A few of the men complained that they got only two +meals a day, but I found that there was an early ration of coffee and +bread which these soldiers did not count as enough of a breakfast to be +mentioned as a meal. This comes at dawn and then there are meals at +about eleven and five. One of the men with whom I talked was mournful. + +"We don't get anything much but slum," he said, when I asked him, "How's +the food?" That did not sound appetizing until I found out that slum was +a stew made of beef and potatoes and carrots and lots of onions. We ate +some and it was very good, but perhaps it does pall a little after the +third or fourth day. It forms the main staple of army diet in the +trenches, for it is not possible to give the men in the line any great +variety of food. The most tragic story in connection with food which we +heard concerned a company which was just beginning dinner when a gas +alarm was sounded. The men had been carefully trained to drop everything +and adjust their masks when this alarm was sounded. So down went their +mess tins, spilling slum on the trench floor as the masks were quickly +fastened. Five minutes later word came that the gas alarm was a mistake. + +Before we left we saw a patrol start out. The doughboys took to +patrolling eagerly and officers who asked for volunteers were always +swamped with requests from men who wanted to go. One lieutenant was +surprised to have a large fat cook come to him to say that he would not +be happy unless allowed to make a trip across No Man's Land to the +German wire. When the officer asked him why he was so anxious to go, he +said: "Well, you see, I promised to get a German helmet and an overcoat +for a girl for Christmas and I haven't got much time left." + +It was dark when we left the trenches and started cross country. The +German guns had begun to fire a little. They were spasmodically +shelling a clump of woods half a mile away and seemed indifferent to +correspondents. But by this time the weather was actively hostile. The +rain had changed to snow and the wind had risen to a gale. Every shell +hole had become a trap to catch the unwary and wet him to the waist. +Little brooks were carrying on like rivers and amateur lakes were +everywhere. We walked and walked and suddenly the French lieutenant who +was guiding us paused and explained that he hadn't the least idea where +we were. Nothing could be seen through the driving snow and there was no +certainty that we hadn't turned completely around. We wondered if there +were any gaps in the wire and if it would be possible to walk into the +German lines by mistake. We also wondered whether the Kaiser's three +hundred marks for the first American would stand if the prisoner was +only a reporter. Just then there was a sudden sharp rift in the mist +ahead of us. A big flash cut through the snow and fog and after a second +we heard a bang behind us. + +"Those are American guns," said our guide, and we made for them. We +were lost again once or twice, but each time we just stood and waited +for the flash from the battery until we reached our base. Shortly after +we arrived the shelling ceased. There was hardly a warlike sound. It was +a quiet night on a tranquil front. The weather was too bad even for +fighting. + +We went to the hospital in the little town and were allowed to look at +the first German prisoner. He was a pretty sick boy when we saw him. He +gave his age when examined as nineteen, but he looked younger and not +very dangerous, for he was just coming out of the ether. The American +doctors were giving him the best of care. He had a room to himself and +his own nurse. The doughboys had captured him close to the American +wire. There had been great rivalry as to which company would get the +first prisoner, but he came almost unsought. The patrol was back to its +own wire when the soldiers heard the noise of somebody moving about to +the left. He was making no effort to walk quietly. As he came over a +little hillock his outline could be seen for a second and one of the +Americans called out to him to halt. He turned and started to run, but a +doughboy fired and hit him in the leg and another soldier's bullet came +through his back. The patrol carried the prisoner to the trench. He +seemed much more dazed by surprise than by the pain of his wounds. +"You're not French," he said several times as the curious Americans +gathered about him in a close, dim circle illuminated by pocket flash +lamps. The prisoner next guessed that they were English and when the +soldiers told him that they were Americans he said that he and his +comrades did not know that Americans were in the line opposite them. +Somebody gave him a cigarette and he grew more chipper in spite of his +wounds. He began to talk, saying: "Ich bin ein esel." + +There were several Americans who had enough German for that and they +asked him why. The prisoner explained that he had been assigned to +deliver letters to the soldiers. Some of the letters were for men in a +distant trench which slanted toward the French line, and so to save time +he had taken a short cut through No Man's Land. It was a dark night but +he thought he knew the way. He kept bearing to the left. Now, he said, +he knew he should have turned to the right. He said it would be a lesson +to him. The next morning we heard that the German had died and would be +buried with full military honors. + +There was another patient whom we were interested in seeing. Lieutenant +Devere H. Harden was the first American officer wounded in the war. His +wound was not a very bad one and the doctors allowed us to crowd about +his bed and ask questions. In spite of the British saying, "you never +hear a shell that hits you," Harden said he both saw and heard his +particular shell. He thought it would have scored a direct hit on his +head if he had not fallen flat. As it was the projectile exploded almost +fifty feet away from him and his wound was caused by a fragment which +flew back and lodged behind his knee. He did not know that he had been +hit, but sought shelter in a dugout. Just as he got to the door he felt +a pain in his knee and fell over. He noticed then that his leg was +bleeding a little. A French officer ran over to him and said: "You are +a very lucky man." + +"How is that?" asked Harden. + +"Why, you're the first American to be wounded and I'm going to recommend +to the general that he put up a tablet right here with your name on it +and the date and 'first American to shed his blood for France.'" + +The thought of the tablet didn't cheer the lieutenant up half so much as +when we prevailed on the doctors to let him take some cigarettes from us +and begin smoking again. By this time we had almost forgotten about the +slum of earlier in the evening and so we stopped at the first café we +came to on the road back to the correspondents' headquarters. Several +American soldiers were sitting around a small stove in the kitchen, and +although they said nothing, an old woman was cooking omelettes and small +steaks and distributing them about to the rightful owners without the +slightest mistake. At least there were no complaints. Perhaps the +doughboys were afraid of the old woman for whenever one of them got in +her way she would say nothing but push him violently in the chest with +both hands. He would then step back and the cooking would go on. + +Presently a noisy soldier came roaring into the kitchen. It took him +just half a minute to get acquainted and about that much more time to +tell us that he was driving a four mule team with rations. We asked him +if he had gotten near the front and he snorted scornfully. He told us +that the night before he had almost driven into the German lines. +According to his story, he lost his way in the dark and drove past the +third line trench, the second line and the first line and started +rumbling along an old road which cut straight across No Man's Land and +into the German lines. + +"I was going along," he said, "and a doughboy out in a listening post, I +guess it must have been, jumped up and waved both his hands at me to go +back. 'What's the matter?' I asked him, just natural, like I'm talking +to you, and he just mumbles at me. 'You're going right toward the German +lines,' he says. 'For God's sake turn round and go back and don't speak +above a whisper.' + +"'Whisper, Hell!' I says to him, kind of mad, 'I gotta turn four mules +around.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE VETERANS RETURN + + +When the first contingent of doughboys came out of the trenches I went +to a French officer whom I knew well and asked him what he thought of +the Americans. + +"Remember," I told him, "I don't want you to dress up an opinion for me. +Tell me what you really thought of our men when you saw them up there. +What did the French say about them?" + +"Truly, I think they are very good," the Frenchman told me. Then he +corrected himself. "I mean I think they will be very good. They are +something like the Canadians. They were pretty jumpy at first, but that +doesn't do any harm. The soldiers up there, they wanted to fire when the +grass was moving and they did sometimes, without getting any orders. +They got over that pretty soon. By the third night they were pretty +well settled. Of course, they can shoot better than our men and they are +bigger and stronger, but in some things we have the advantage. You +Americans are much more excitable than we French." + +As a rule French and British officers were inclined to be optimistic +about the Americans. They were impressed by their physique. The first of +the Canadians were probably a little huskier than the Americans and the +early contingents of Australians and New Zealanders were at least as +good, but now all the rest are falling off in their physical standards +on account of losses, while the most recent American arrivals in France +are better than any of our earlier contingents. + +The American is potentially a good soldier, but it is a long cry of +preëminence. Any nation which establishes itself as the best in the +field will have to perform marvelous deeds. The chances are that nobody +will touch the high water mark of the French. After all, in her finest +moments, France has a positive genius for warfare. Her best troops +possess a combination of patience in defense and dash in attack. France +has a fighting tradition which we do not possess. We must gain that +before we can rival her. + +From the point of view of the newspaperman the Frenchman is the ideal +soldier of the world. Not only can he fight, but he can tell you about +it. There is no trouble in getting a poilu to talk. He has opinions on +every subject under the sun. The only difficulty is in understanding him +once you have got him started. The doughboys, on the other hand, are +usually reticent. They're always afraid of being detected in some +sentimental or heroic pose and so they adopt a belittling attitude +toward anything which happens as protection. The first men who came back +from the trenches were not quite like that. These doughboys were more +like Rossetti's angels. "The wonder was not yet quite gone from that +still look" of theirs. + +They did not minimize their experiences. I think I understand now what +Secretary Baker meant when he said that some of the most thrilling +stories of the war would come in letters from the soldiers. We went to +the major of a battalion which had just come back from the front to its +billets. + +"No, nothing much happened while we were up there," he said. "They +didn't shell us very hard; they didn't try any raids or any gas and the +aeroplanes let us alone." + +Then we tried the soldiers. "Yes, sir, we certainly did see some +aeroplanes," said a doughboy. "Why, one day there was two hundred and +twenty-five flew over my head. I think the French brought down twenty of +them, but I didn't see that." Another told how two hundred and fifty +Germans had started to attack the Americans. "Our artillery put a +barrage on them and in a couple of minutes all but three of them were +dead." + +"Did you see those Germans yourself?" we asked him sternly. + +"No," he admitted, "it was a little bit down to our left but I heard +about it." + +There were other stories which may have grown in the telling, but they +sounded more plausible. One concerned a soldier who had his hyphen shot +away at the front. This man was of German parentage and his father was +in the German army. Before he went to the trenches he used to dwell on +what a terrible thing it was for him to be fighting against his father +and Fatherland. He declared that if it were possible he was going to +play a passive part in the war. But in the course of time he went into +the first line and no sooner was he in than he peeked over the top to +have a look at the folks from the old home. "Pat, pat, pat!" a stream of +bullets from a machine gun went by his head. The German-American gave a +grunt of surprise and then a yell of rage and jumped over the parapet +and began firing his rifle in the direction of the machine gun. He must +have made a lucky hit for by some chance or other the machine gun ceased +firing and the doughboy crawled back into the trench unharmed. He was +still mad and kept mumbling, "I didn't do anything but look at 'em and +they went and shot at me." + +A story better authenticated concerns a visit which General Pershing +paid to the trenches. A young captain took his responsibilities much to +heart and wanted to leave nothing to his subordinates. He was on the +rush constantly from one point to another and at the end of fifty-two +hours of unceasing toil he went to his dugout to get three hours' sleep. +He had hardly started to snore when there was a knock and a doughboy +came in to complain that he had sore feet and what should he do. A few +minutes later it was another who wanted to know where he could get +additional candles. Rid of him, the captain really began to sleep, only +to be awakened by a knock at the door and a voice, "Is this the company +commander?" + +"Yes," said the irritated captain, "and what the hell do you want?" + +The door opened and the strictest disciplinarian in the American army +permitted himself the shadow of a smile. "I'm General Pershing," he +said. + +One battalion came back from the front with an additional member. He was +a large dog of uncertain breed who had deserted from the German lines. +At least it was hard to say whether he belonged to the German army or +the French. The French first saw him one afternoon when he came +lumbering across No Man's Land and pushed himself through the wire in a +place where it had grown a bit slack. One French soldier fired at him. +The poilu thought it might be a new trick of the Germans. For all he +knew a couple of Boches might have been concealed inside the big hound. +He was no marksman, this soldier, for he missed the dog who promptly +turned sharply to the left and came in at another point in the trenches. +The soldiers made him welcome although there was some discussion as to +what his nationality might be. It was evident that he had come across +from the German lines, but it was possible that he was a French dog +captured in one of the villages which fell to the invaders. The men in +the front line tried him with all the German they knew--"You German +pig," "what's your regiment?" "damn the Kaiser," "to Berlin," and a few +others. He indicated no understanding of the phrases. Later he was taken +further back and examined at length by an intelligence officer but no +single German word could be found which he seemed to recognize. On the +other hand it was ascertained that he was equally ignorant of French. +However, he understood signs, would bark for a bone and never missed an +invitation to eat. + +During the first week of his stay the soldiers were generous in giving +him a share of their rations. Later he became an old friend and did not +fare so well. One night he disappeared and an outpost saw him lumbering +back to the German lines. The Boches were out on patrol that night and +apparently the big dog reached their lines without being fired upon. He +was gone three weeks and then he returned for a long stay with the +French. So it went on. He never affiliated himself permanently with +either army and he never gave away secrets. Possibly his coming gave +some sign of declining morale across the way for when the men became +cross and testy the big dog simply changed sides. There was never any +indication that he had been underfed even when rumors were strongest +about the food shortage in Germany. The Boches took a pride in belying +these stories, as best they could, by keeping the hound sleek and fat. + +The French called him Quatre Cent Vingt after the big gun but nobody +knew for certain his German alias. Once when he left the German lines in +broad daylight the Boches all along the line were heard whistling for +him to come back, but no one called him by name. The French chose to +believe that across the way he was known as "Kamerad," but there was no +evidence on this point. It is true that he would stand on his hind legs +and wave his paws when anybody said "Kamerad," but this was a trick and +took teaching. + +He must have heard somehow or other about the coming of the Americans +for he left the Germans at noon one day when the doughboys had hardly +become settled in their new home. A French interpreter vouched for him +and he was allowed free access to third line, second line, first line +and, what he valued much more, to the company kitchen. Here for the +first time he tasted slum. Soldiers are fond of belittling this +combination of beef, onions, potatoes and carrots but Quatre Cent Vingt +was frank in his admiration of the dish. Naturally, free-born American +citizens could not be expected to know him by his outlandish French +name or any abbreviation of it and he became Big Ed in honor of the mess +sergeant. Hitherto Quatre Cent Vingt had been careful to show no favors. +He had been the company's dog but he became so distinctly partial to the +mess sergeant that the soldier took him over as his own and when the +company went away Quatre Cent Vingt went too, following closely behind a +rolling kitchen. + +The experience in the trenches made American soldiers a little more +expressive than they had been before but the national character remained +baffling. As a nation we unquestionably have personality but our army is +somewhat lacking in this quality even among its leaders. Pershing is a +personality, of course, and Bullard and Sibert and March, but for the +rest all major generals seemed much alike to us. Sibert we remembered +because he was a quiet, kindly man who got the things he wanted without +much fuss. He was among the thinkers of the army. Mostly he was +listening to other people, but when he talked he wasted no words. +Undoubtedly he was one of the best loved men in the army for he combined +with his efficiency and his kindliness an occasional playful flash of +humor. I remember a visit which three American newspaperwomen paid to +him one day at his headquarters. The conversation had scarcely begun +when one of the women somewhat tactlessly remarked, "General, this is a +young man's war, isn't it?" + +General Sibert is husky enough but he is a bit gray and he smiled +quizzically as he looked at his questioner over the top of a big pair of +horn-rimmed glasses. + +"When I was a cadet at West Point," said General Sibert, "I used to +console myself with the thought that Napoleon was winning battles when +he was thirty. Now, I find that my mind dwells more on the fact that +Hindenburg is seventy." + +Robert H. Bullard is probably the most picturesque figure in the +American army. He has a reputation as a fighter and a daredevil and he +is still one of the best polo players and broadsword experts in the +American army. They say that when a second lieutenant swore at him one +day in the heat of a game he made no complaint but laid for the young +man later on and sent him sprawling off his horse in a wild scrimmage. +He will fight broadsword duels with anybody regardless of rank if his +opponent promises to be a man who can test his mettle. And yet it was a +bit surprising that when the command of one of the crack divisions in +France was open, General Pershing chose Bullard for the command because +Major General Robert H. Bullard is perhaps the worst dressed major +general in the American army. A poilu in one of the provincial cities +mistook him for an American enlisted man and talked to him with great +freedom for more than half an hour before an excited French officer +rushed up and told him that the man with whom he was talking so +familiarly was an American general. + +"Oh, that's all right," said Bullard, "I wanted to hear what he had to +say. Come around to my headquarters sometime and tell me some more." + +On another occasion I saw an American captain suffer acutely because +Bullard appeared at a public Franco-American function with two days' +growth of beard. "What kind of an aide can he have," moaned the +captain. "I was on his staff for two years and I never let him come out +like that. I always had him fixed up when there was anything important +on." + +Tall, spare, hawk-featured and straight, Bullard represents a type of +officer who has a large part to play in the American army. It is around +such men that tradition grows and tradition is the marrow of an army. It +was Bullard, too, who gave the best expression to the hope and purpose +of the American army which I heard in France. He had said that what the +American army must always maintain as its most important asset was the +offensive spirit and when we asked him just what that was he lapsed into +a story which was always his favorite device for exposition. + +"There was once a Spanish farmer," said General Bullard, "who lived in a +small house in the country with his pious wife. One day he came rushing +out of the house with a valise in his hand and his good wife stopped him +and asked, 'Where are you going?' 'I'm going to Seville,' said the +farmer bustling right past her. 'You mean God willing,' suggested his +pious wife. 'No,' replied the farmer, 'I just mean that I'm going.' + +"The Lord was angered by this impiety and He promptly changed the farmer +into a frog. His wife could tell that it was her husband all right +because he was bigger than any of the other frogs and more noisy. She +went to the edge of the pond every day and prayed that her husband might +be forgiven. And one morning--it was the first day of the second +year--the big frog suddenly began to swell and get bigger and bigger +until he wasn't a frog any more, but a man. And he hopped out of the +pond and stood on the bank beside his wife. Without stopping to kiss her +or thank her or anything he ran straight into the house and came out +with a valise in his hand. + +"'Where are you going?' his wife asked in terror. + +"'To Seville,' he said. + +"She wrung her hands. 'You mean God willing,' she cried. + +"'No,' thundered the farmer, 'to Seville or back to the frog pond!'" + +In the main, however, American officers and soldiers were not very +successful in expressing their feelings and ideals in regard to the war. +One of the Y. M. C. A. huts carried on an anonymous symposium on the +subject "Why I joined the army." Only a few of the answers came from the +heart. Most of the rest were of two types. One sort was swanking and +swaggering, in which the writer unconsciously melodramatized himself, +and the other was cynical, in which the writer betrayed the fact that he +was afraid of being melodramatic. Thus there was one man who answered, +"To fight for my country, the good old United States, the land of the +free and the starry flag that I love so well." "Because I was crazy," +wrote another and it is probable that neither reason really represented +the exact feeling of the man in question. + +Some were distinctly utilitarian such as that of the soldier who wrote +"To improve my mind by visiting the famous churches and art galleries of +the old world." There was also a simplicity and directness in "to put +Malden on the map." But the two which seemed to be the truest of all +were, "Because they said I wasn't game and I am too" and "Because she'll +be sorry when she sees my name in the list of the fellows that got +killed." + +For a time I was all muddled up about the American reaction to the war. +Sometimes we seemed helplessly provincial and then along would come some +glorious unhelpless assertiveness. This would probably be in something +to do with plumbing or doctoring. Even our friends in Europe are +inclined to put us down as materialists. They think we love money more +than anything else in the world. I don't believe this is true. I think +we use money only as a symbol and that even if we don't express them, or +if we express them badly, the American who fights has not forgotten to +pack his ideals. A young American officer brought that home to me one +day in Paris. He was a doctor from a thriving factory town upstate. + +"You know," he began, "this war is costing me thousands of dollars. I +was getting along great back home. A lot of factories had me for their +doctor. My practice was worth $15,000 a year. It was all paid up, too, +you know, workman's compensation stuff. I'll bet it won't be worth a +nickel when I get back." + +He sat and drummed on the table and looked out on the street and a +couple of Portuguese went by in their slate gray uniforms and then some +Russians, with their marvelous tunics, which Bakst might have designed; +there were French aviators in black and red, and rollicking Australians, +an Italian, looking glum, and a Roumanian with a girl on his arm. + +"Did you ever read 'Ivanhoe'?" said the man with the $15,000 practice, +fiercely and suddenly. + +I nodded. + +"Well," he said, "when I was a boy I read that book five times. I +thought it was the greatest book in the world, and I guess it is, and +all this reminds me of 'Ivanhoe.'" + +"Of 'Ivanhoe'?" I said. + +"Yes, you know, all this," and he made an expansive gesture, "Verdun, +and Joffre, and 'they shall not pass,' and Napoleon's tomb, and war +bread, and all the men with medals and everything. Great stuff! +There'll never be anything like it in the world again. I tell you it's +better than 'Ivanhoe.' Everything's happening and I'm in it. I'm in a +little of it, anyway. And if I have a chance to get in something big I +don't care what happens. No, sir, if I could just help to give the old +Boche a good wallop I wouldn't care if I never got back. Why, I wouldn't +miss this for ----" His eyes were sparkling with excitement now and he +was straining for adequate expression. He brought his fist down on the +table until the glasses rattled. "I wouldn't miss this for $50,000 +cash," he said. + + * * * * * + +_True Stories of the War_ + +MEN, WOMEN AND WAR + +BY WILL IRWIN, _author of "The Latin at War._" + +With the inquisitiveness of the reporter and the pen of an artist in +words the author has in this book given us the human side of an inhuman +war. He saw and understood the implacable German war machine; the +Belgian fighting for his homeland; the regenerated French defending +their country against the invader, and the imperturbable English, +determined to maintain their honor even if the empire was threatened. + +"The splendid story of Ypres is the fullest outline of that battle that +the present reviewer has seen. Mr. Irwin's book is all the better for +not having been long. It has no dull pages."--_The New York Times_. + +$1.10 _net_ + +THE LATIN AT WAR + +By WILL IRWIN, _author of "Men, Women and War._" + +No correspondent "at the front" has found more stories of human interest +than has Mr. Irwin. In this book he has set forth his experiences and +observations in France and Italy during the year 1917, and discusses the +social and economic conditions as seen through the eyes of civilians and +soldiers he interviewed. + +"He makes you visualise while you read, because he visualized while he +wrote."--_The Outlook_, New York. + +"It is a fascinating volume throughout; the more so because of the +writer's unfailing sense of humor, of pathos, and of sympathy with human +nature in all its phases and experiences."--_The New York Tribune_. + +$1.75 _net_ + + * * * * * + +THESE ARE APPLETON BOOKS + +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.... NEW YORK + +_=Important War Books=_ + +UNDER FOUR FLAGS FOR FRANCE + +By CAPTAIN GEORGE CLARKE MUSGRAVE + +What Captain Musgrave saw as an observer on the Western front since 1914 +is precisely what every American wants to know. He tells the story of +the war to date, in simple, narrative form, intensely interesting and +remarkably informative. If you want a true picture of all that has +happened, and of the situation as it exists today, you will find it in +this book. + +_Illustrated_, $2.00 _net_ + +TO BAGDAD WITH THE BRITISH + +By ARTHUR T. CLARK + +Here is the first accurate account of the thrilling campaign in +Mesopotamia. The author was a member of the British Expeditionary Forces +and saw the wild rout of the Turks from Kut-el-Amara to Bagdad. His book +brings home the absorbing story of this important part of the war, and +shows the real soldier Tommy Atkins is. + +_Illustrated_, $1.50 _net_ + +OUT THERE + +By CHARLES W. WHITEHAIR + +This is a story by a Y.M.C.A. worker, who has seen service at the front +with the English and French soldiers, in Egypt, Flanders, England and +Scotland and who has witnessed some of the greatest battles of the +present war. + +_Illustrated_, $1.50 _net_ + +THESE ARE APPLETON BOOKS D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.... 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It +is a veritable pistol shot of alluring information."--_The Christian +Intelligencer_, _New York_. + +$1.00 _net_ + +=OUT OF THEIR OWN MOUTHS= + +With an introduction by WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER + +To prove conclusively the identity of the aggressors in the great war, +and their ultimate aims this book has been prepared from the official +documents, speeches, letters and hundreds of unofficial statements of +German leaders. With few exceptions, the extracts included in this +collection are taken directly from the German. + +"It is the most comprehensive collection of this character that has yet +appeared."--_The Springfield Union_. + +$1.00 _net_ + +THESE ARE APPLETON BOOKS D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.... NEW YORK + + * * * * * + +The corspondent=>The correspondent + +it was passible to see the projectile in flight=>it was possible to see +the projectile in flight + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The A.E.F., by Heywood Broun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE A.E.F. *** + +***** This file should be named 39072-8.txt or 39072-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/0/7/39072/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Internet Archive.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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E. F, by Heywood Broun. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} + +.adz {text-indent:0%;margin-left:5%;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} + +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + +small {font-size: 70%;} + + h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both;} + + h2 {margin-top:5%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; + font-size:120%;} + + hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} + + hr.full-1 {width: 50%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} + + hr.full {width: 70%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double black;} + + table {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;text-align:left;} + + body{margin-left:2%;margin-right:2%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + +.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:95%;} + + img {border:none;} + +.caption {font-weight:bold;} + +.figcenter {margin-top:5%;margin-bottom:5%; margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} +</style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The A.E.F., by Heywood Broun + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: The A.E.F. + With General Pershing and the American Forces + +Author: Heywood Broun + +Release Date: March 7, 2012 [EBook #39072] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE A.E.F. *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Internet Archive.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full-1" /> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="367" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover" title="image of the book's cover" /></a> +</p> + +<p class="cb">THE A. E. F.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/frontispiece_lg.jpg"> +<img src="images/frontispiece_sml.jpg" width="388" height="550" alt="Frontispiece, Photo of General Pershing; +Commanding the A. E. F." title="Frontispiece, Photo of General Pershing; +Commanding the A. E. F." /></a> +<br /> +<span class="caption">General Pershing<br /> +Commanding the A. E. F.</span> +</p> + +<h1> +THE A. E. F.<br /> +<small>WITH GENERAL PERSHING<br /> +AND THE AMERICAN FORCES</small></h1> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="cb">BY<br /> +HEYWOOD BROUN<br /> +<br /><br /> +<img src="images/colophon.png" width="50" height="63" alt="colophon" title="colophon" /> +<br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> +NEW YORK <span style="margin-left: 4em;">LONDON</span><br /> +1918<br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +<small>C<small>OPYRIGHT</small>, 1918, B<small>Y</small><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</small><br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +<small>Printed in the United States of America</small><br /> +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="cb"> +TO<br /> +<br /> +RUTH HALE<br /> +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td> </td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">The Big Pond</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">The A. E. F.</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_011">11</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Lafayette, Nous Voilà</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_025">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">The Franco-american Honeymoon</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_036">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Within Sound of the Guns</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_056">56</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Sunny France</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Pershing</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Men With Medals</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Letters Home</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Marines</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Field Pieces and Big Guns</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_136">136</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Our Aviators and a Few Others</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_147">147</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Hospitals and Engineers</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_164">164</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">We Visit the French Army</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_177">177</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Verdun</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_192">192</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">We Visit the British Army</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_200">200</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Back From Prison</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_221">221</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Finishing Touches</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_227">227</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">The American Army Marches To The +Trenches</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_250">250</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">Trench Life</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_260">260</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></td><td><span class="smcap">The Veterans Return</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_281">281</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="c">Some of the material in this book is reprinted through the courtesy of +the <i>New York Tribune</i>.<a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<h1>THE A. E. F.</h1> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> +<small>THE BIG POND</small></h2> + +<p>"V<small>OILÀ UN SOUSMARIN</small>," said a sailor, as he stuck his head through the +doorway of the smoking room. The man with aces and eights dropped, but +the player across the table had three sevens, and he waited for a +translation. It came from the little gun on the afterdeck. The gun said +"Bang!" and in a few seconds it repeated "Bang!" I heard the second shot +from my stateroom, but before I had adjusted my lifebelt the gun fired +at the submarine once more.</p> + +<p>A cheer followed this shot. No Yale eleven, or even Harvard for that +matter, ever heard such a cheer. It was as if the shout for the first +touchdown and for the last one and for all the field goals and long +gains had been<a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a> thrown into one. There was something in the cheer, too, +of a long drawn "ho-old 'em."</p> + +<p>I looked out the porthole and asked an ambulance man: "Did we get her +then?"</p> + +<p>"No, but we almost did," he answered. "There she is," he added. "That's +the periscope."</p> + +<p>Following the direction of his finger I found a stray beanpole thrust +somewhat carelessly into the ocean. It came out of a wave top with a +rakish tilt. Probably ours was the angle, for the steamer was cutting +the ocean into jigsaw sections as we careened away for dear life, now +with a zig and then with a zag, seeking safety in drunken flight. When I +reached the deck, steamer and passengers seemed to be doing as well as +could be expected, and even better.</p> + +<p>The periscope was falling astern, and the three hundred passengers, +mostly ambulance drivers and Red Cross nurses, were lined along the +rail, rooting. Some of the girls stood on top of the rail and others +climbed up to the lifeboats, which were as good as a row of boxes. It +was distinctly a home team crowd.<a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a> Nobody cheered for the submarine. The +only passenger who showed fright was a chap who rushed up and down the +deck loudly shouting: "Don't get excited."</p> + +<p>"Give 'em hell," said a home town fan and shook his fist in the +direction of the submarine. The gunner fired his fourth shot and this +time he was far short in his calculation.</p> + +<p>"It's a question of whether we get her first or she gets us, isn't it?" +asked an old lady in about the tone she would have used in asking a +popular lecturer whether or not he thought Hamlet was really mad. Such +neutrality was beyond me. I couldn't help expressing a fervent hope that +the contest would be won by our steamer. It was the bulliest sort of a +game, and a pleasant afternoon, too, but one passenger was no more than +mildly interested. W. K. Vanderbilt did not put on a life preserver nor +did he leave his deck chair. He sat up just a bit and watched the whole +affair tolerantly. After all the submarine captain was a stranger to +him.</p> + +<p>Our fifth and final shot was the best. It hit the periscope or +thereabouts. The shell did not<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a> rebound and there was a patch of oil on +the surface of the water. The beanpole disappeared. The captain left the +bridge and went to the smoking room. He called for cognac.</p> + +<p>"Il est mort," said he, with a sweep of his right hand.</p> + +<p>"He says we sunk her," explained the man who spoke French.</p> + +<p>The captain said the submarine had fired one torpedo and had missed the +steamer by about ninety feet. The U-boat captain must have taken his eye +off the boat, or sliced or committed some technical blunder or other, +for he missed an easy shot. Even German efficiency cannot eradicate the +blessed amateur. May his thumbs never grow less!</p> + +<p>We looked at the chart and found that our ship was more than seven +hundred miles from the nearest land. It seemed a lonely ocean.</p> + +<p>One man came through the crisis with complete triumph. As soon as the +submarine was sighted, the smoking room steward locked the cigar chest +and the wine closet. Not until then did he go below for his lifebelt.</p> + +<p>Reviewing my own emotions, I found that I<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> had not been frightened quite +as badly as I expected. The submarine didn't begin to scare me as much +as the first act of "The Thirteenth Chair," but still I could hardly lay +claim to calm, for I had not spoken one of the appropriate speeches +which came to my mind after the attack. The only thing to which I could +point with pride was the fact that before putting on my lifebelt I +paused to open a box of candy, and went on deck to face destruction, or +what not, with a caramel between my teeth. But before the hour was up I +was sunk indeed.</p> + +<p>It was submarine this and sousmarin that in the smoking room. The +U-boats lurked in every corner. One man had seen two and at the next +table was a chap who had seen three. There was the fellow who had +sighted the periscope first of all, the man who had seen the wake of the +torpedo, and the littlest ambulance driver who had sighted the submarine +through the bathroom window while immersed in the tub. He was the man +who had started for the deck with nothing more about him than a lifebelt +and had been turned back.<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a></p> + +<p>"I wonder," said a passenger, "whether those submarines have wireless? +Do you suppose now that boat could send messages on ahead and ask other +U-boats to look after us?" And just then the gun on the forward deck +went "Bang."</p> + +<p>It was the meanest and most inappropriate sound I ever heard. It was an +anti-climax of the most vicious sort. It was bad form, bad art, bad +everything. I felt a little sick, and one of the contributing emotions +was a sort of fearfully poignant boredom. I tried to remember just what +the law of averages was and to compute as rapidly as possible the +chances of the vessel to complete two more days of travel if attacked by +a submarine every hour.</p> + +<p>"The ocean is full of the damn things," said the man at the next table +petulantly.</p> + +<p>This time the thing was a black object not more than fifty yards away. +The captain signaled the gunner not to fire again and he let it be known +that this was nothing but a barrel. Later it was rumored that it was a +mine, but then there were all sorts of rumors during those last two days +when we ran along<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> with lifeboats swung out. There was much talk of a +convoy, but none appeared.</p> + +<p>Many passengers slept on deck and some went to meals with their +lifebelts on. Everybody jumped when a plate was dropped and there was +always the possibility of starting a panic by slamming a door. And so we +cheered when the steamer came to the mouth of the river which leads to +Bordeaux. We cheered for France from friendship. We cheered from +surprise and joy when the American flag went up to the top of a high +mast and we cheered a little from sheer relief because we had left the +sea and the U-boats behind us.</p> + +<p>They had been with us not a little from the beginning. Even on the first +day out from New York the ship ran with all lights out and portholes +shielded. Later passengers were forbidden to smoke on deck at night and +once there was a lifeboat drill of a sort, but the boats were not swung +out in the davits until after we met the submarine.</p> + +<p>Early in the voyage an old lady complained to the purser because a young +man in the music<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a> room insisted on playing the Dead March from "Saul." +There was more cheerful music. The ambulance drivers saw to that. We had +an Amherst unit and one from Leland Stanford and the boys were nineteen +or thereabouts. It is well enough to say that all the romance has gone +out of modern war, but you can't convince a nineteen-year-older of that +when he has his first khaki on his back and his first anti-typhoid +inoculation in his arm. They boasted of these billion germs and they +swaggered and played banjos and sang songs. Mostly they sang at night on +the pitch black upper deck. The littlest ambulance driver had a nice +tenor voice and on still nights he did not care what submarine commander +knew that he "learned about women from her." He and his companions +rocked the stars with "She knifed me one night." Daytimes they studied +French from the ground up. It was the second day out that I heard a +voice from just outside my porthole inquire "E-S-T—what's that and how +do you say it?" Later on the littlest ambulance driver had made marked +progress and<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> was explaining "Mon oncle a une bonne fille, mais mon père +est riche."</p> + +<p>Romance was not hard to find on the vessel. The slow waiter who limped +had been wounded at the Marne, and the little fat stewardess had spent +twenty-two days aboard the German raider <i>Eitel Friedrich</i>. There were +French soldiers in the steerage and one of them had the Croix de Guerre +with four palms. He had been wounded three times.</p> + +<p>But when the ship came up the river the littlest ambulance driver—the +one who knew "est" and women—summed things up and decided that he was +glad to be an American. He looked around the deck at the Red Cross +nurses and others who had stood along the rail and cheered in the +submarine fight, and he said:</p> + +<p>"I never would have thought it of 'em. It's kinda nice to know American +women have got so much nerve."</p> + +<p>The littlest ambulance driver drew himself up to his full five feet four +and brushed his new uniform once again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he said, "we men have certainly<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> got to hand it to the girls +on this boat." And as he went down the gangplank he was humming: "And I +learned about women from her."<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> +<small>THE A. E. F.</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> dawn was gray and so was the ship, but the eye picked her out of the +mist because of two broad yellow stripes which ran the whole length of +the upper decks. As the ship warped into the pier the stripes of yellow +became so many layers of men in khaki, each motionless and each gazing +toward the land.</p> + +<p>"Say," cried a voice across the diminishing strip of water, "what place +is this anyhow?" The reply came back from newspapermen whose only +companions on the pier were two French soldiers and a little group of +German prisoners.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the voice from the ship, "this ought to be better than the +Texas border."</p> + +<p>The American regulars had come to France.</p> + +<p>The two French soldiers looked at the men<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a> on the transport and cheered, +flinging their caps in the air. The Germans just looked. They were +engaged in moving rails and after lifting one they would pause and gaze +into space for many minutes until the guards told them to get to work +again. But now the guards were so interested that the Germans prolonged +the rest interval and stared at the ship. News that ships were in was +carried through the town and people came running to the pier. There were +women and children and old men and a few soldiers.</p> + +<p>Nobody had known the Americans were coming. Even the mayor was surprised +and had to run home to get his red sash and his high hat. Children on +the way to school did not go further than the quay, for back of the +ship, creeping into the slip, were other ships with troops and torpedo +boat destroyers and a cruiser.</p> + +<p>Just before the gangplank was lowered the band on the first transport +played "The Star Spangled Banner." The men on the ship stood at +attention. The crowds on shore only watched. They did not know our +national<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> anthem yet. Next the band played "The Marseillaise," and the +hats of the crowd came off. As the last note died away one of the +Americans relaxed from attention and leaned over the rail toward a small +group of newspapermen from America.</p> + +<p>"Do they allow enlisted men to drink in the saloons in this town?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Somebody else wanted to know, "Is there any place in town where a fellow +can get a piece of pie?" A sailor was anxious to rent a bicycle or a +horse and "ride somewhere." Later the universal question became, "Don't +any of these people speak American?"</p> + +<p>The men were hustled off the ship and marched into the long street which +runs parallel with the docks. They passed within a few feet of the +Germans. There was less than the length of a bayonet between them but +the doughboys did credit to their brief training. They kept their eyes +straight ahead.</p> + +<p>"How do they look?" one of the newspapermen asked a German sergeant in +the group of prisoners.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they look all right," he said professionally,<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> "but you can't tell +yet. I'd want to see them in action first."</p> + +<p>"They don't lift their knees high enough," he added and grinned at his +little joke.</p> + +<p>A French soldier came up then and expostulated. He said that we must not +talk to the Germans and set his prisoners back to their task of lifting +rails. There were guards at both ends of the street, but scores of +children slipped by them and began to talk to the soldiers. There were +hardly half a dozen men in the first regiment who understood French. +Veterans of the Mexican border tried a little bad Spanish and when that +didn't work they fell back to signs. The French made an effort to meet +the visitors half way. I saw a boy extend his reader to a soldier and +explain that a fearfully homely picture which looked like a caterpillar +was a "chenille." The boy added that the chenille was so ugly that it +was without doubt German and no good. Children also pointed out familiar +objects in the book such as "Chats" and "Chiens," but as one soldier +said: "I don't care about those<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a> things, sonny: haven't you got a roast +chicken or an apple pie in that book?"</p> + +<p>Some officers had tried to teach their men a little French on the trip +across, but not much seemed to stick. The men were not over curious as +to this strange language. One old sergeant went to his lieutenant and +said: "You know, sir, I've served in China and the Philippines and Cuba. +I've been up against this foreign language proposition before and I know +just what I need. If you'll write down a few words for me and tell me +how they're pronounced I won't have to bother you any more. I want 'Give +me a plate of ham and eggs. How much? What's your name?' and 'Do you +love me, kid?'"</p> + +<p>The vocabulary of the officers did not seem very much more extensive +than that of the men. While the troops were disembarking officers were +striving to get supplies started for the camp several miles outside the +city. All the American motor trucks had been shipped on the slowest +steamer of the convoy but the French came to our aid. "I have just one +order," said the French officer, who met<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> the first unit of the American +Expeditionary Army, "there is no American and no French now. There is +only ours."</p> + +<p>Although the officer was kind enough to make ownership of all available +motor trucks common, he could not do as much for the language of the +poilus who drove them. I found the American motor truck chief hopelessly +entangled.</p> + +<p>"Have you enough gasoline to go to the camp and back?" he inquired of +the driver of the first camion to be loaded. The Frenchman shrugged his +shoulders to indicate that he did not comprehend. The officer smiled +tolerantly and spoke with gentle firmness as if to a wayward child. +"Have you enough gasoline?" he said. Again the Frenchman's shoulders +went up. "Have you enough gasoline?" repeated the officer, only this +time he spoke loudly and fiercely as if talking to his wife. Even yet +the Frenchman did not understand. Inspiration came to the American +officer. Suddenly he gesticulated with both hands and began to imitate +George Beban as the French waiter in one of the old Weber<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a> and Fields +shows. "'Ave you enough of ze gaz-o-leene?" he piped mincingly. Then an +interpreter came.</p> + +<p>After several companies had disembarked the march to camp began, up the +main street and along the fine shore road which skirts the bay. The band +struck up "Stars and Stripes Forever" and away they went. They did not +march well, these half green companies who had rolled about the seas so +long, but they held the eyes of all and the hearts of some. They +glorified even cheap tunes such as "If You Don't Like Your Uncle Sammy +Go Back to Your Home Across the Sea," and Sousa seemed a very master of +fire when the men paraded to his marches. These American units did not +give the impression of compactness which one gets from Frenchmen on the +march. The longer stride gives the doughboy an uneven gait. He looks +like a man walking across a plowed field and yet you cannot miss a sense +of power. You feel that he will get there even if his goal is the red +sun itself at the back of the hills.</p> + +<p>There was no long drawn cheer from the<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> people who lined the streets to +see the Americans pass. Even crowds in Paris do not cheer like that. +Instead individuals called out phrases of greeting and there was much +handclapping. Although mixed in point of service the men ran to type as +far as build went. They amazed the French by their height, although some +of the organizations which followed the first division are better +physically. Of course these American troops are actually taller than the +French and in addition they are thin enough to accentuate their height. +It was easy to pick out the youngsters, most of whom found their packs a +little heavy. They would stand up straighter though when an old sergeant +moved alongside and growled a word or two. It was easy to see that these +sergeants were of the old army. They were all lank men, boiled red from +within and without. They had put deserts and jungles under foot and no +distance would seem impossible for them along the good roads of France.</p> + +<p>As ship after ship came in more troops marched to camp. The streets were +filled with the clatter of the big boots of doughboys<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a> throughout the +morning and well into the afternoon. There were American army mules, +too, and although the natives had seen the animal before in French +service, he attracted no end of attention. In his own particular army +the mule seems more picturesque. He has never learned French. It seems +to break his spirit, but he pranced and kicked and played the very devil +under the stimulus of the loud endearments of the American mule drivers.</p> + +<p>The French were also interested in a company of American negroes +specially recruited for stevedore service. The negroes had been +outfitted with old cavalry overcoats of a period shortly after the Civil +War. They were blue coats with gold buttons and the lining was a +tasteful but hardly somber shade of crimson. Nor were the negroes +without picturesque qualities even when they had shed their coats and +gone to work. Their working shirts of white were inked all over with +pious sentences calculated to last through the submarine zone, but piety +was mixed. One big negro, for instance, had written upon<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a> his shirt: +"The Lord is my shepherd," but underneath he had drawn a large starfish +for luck. A few daring ones had ornamented themselves with skulls and +crossbones. To the negroes fell the bitterest disappointment of the +American landing in France. Two Savannah stevedores caught sight of a +black soldier in the French uniform and rushed up to exchange greetings. +The Senegalese shrugged his shoulders and turned away from the flood of +English.</p> + +<p>"That," said one of the American darkies, "is the most ignorantest and +stuck up nigger I ever did see." They were not yet ready to believe that +the negro race had let itself in for the amazing complications of a +foreign language.</p> + +<p>Later in the day the town was full of the eddies which occur when two +languages meet head on, for almost all the soldiers and sailors received +leave to come to town. They wanted beer and champagne and cognac, +chocolate, cake, crackers, pears, apples, cherries, picture postcards, +sardines, rings, cigarettes, and books of French and English phrases. +The<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a> phrase books were usually an afterthought, so commerce was +conducted with difficulty. A few of the shopkeepers equipped themselves +with dictionaries and painstakingly worked out the proper reply for each +customer. Signs were much more effective and when it came to purchase, +the sailor or soldier simply held out a handful of American money and +the storekeeper took a little. To the credit of the shopkeepers of the +nameless port, let it be said that they seemed in every case to take no +more than an approximation of the right amount. Fortunately the late +unpleasantness at Babel was not absolutely thoroughgoing and there are +words in French which offer no great difficulty to the American. The +entente cordiale is furthered by words such as "chocolat," "sandwich," +"biere" and "bifstek." The difficulties of "vin" are not insurmountable +either.</p> + +<p>"A funny people," was the comment of one doughboy, "when I ask for +'sardines' I get 'em all right, but when I say 'cheese' or 'canned +peaches' I don't get anything."</p> + +<p>Another complained, "I don't understand<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> these people at all. They spell +some of their words all right, but they haven't got the sense to say 'em +that way." He could see no reason why "vin" should sound like "van."</p> + +<p>Another objection of the invading army was that the townsfolk demanded +whole sentences of French. Mixtures seemed incomprehensible to them and +the officer who kept crying out, "Madame, where are my œufs?" got no +satisfaction whatever.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon phrase books began to appear, but they did not +help a great deal because by the time the right phrase had been found +some fellow who used only sign language had slipped in ahead of the +student. Then, too, some of the books seemed hardly adapted for present +conditions. One officer was distinctly annoyed because the first +sentence he found in a chapter headed war terms was, "Where is the grand +stand?" But the book which seemed to fall furthest short of promise was +a pamphlet entitled, "Just the French You Want to Know."</p> + +<p>"Look at this," said an indignant owner. "Le travail assure la santé et +la bien-être, il<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> élève et fortifie l'âme, il adoucit les souffrances, +chasse l'ennui, et plaisir sans pareil, il est encore le sel des autres +plaisirs. Go on with it. Look at what all that means—'Work assures +health and well being, it elevates and fortifies the soul, drives away +ennui, alleviates suffering, and, a pleasure without an equal, it is +still the salt of all other pleasures'—what do you think of that? Just +the French you want to know! I don't want to address the graduating +class, I want to tell a barber to leave it long on top, but trim it +pretty close around the edges."</p> + +<p>The happy purchaser of the book did not throw it away, however, until he +turned to the chapter headed "At the Tailor's" and found that the first +sentence set down in French meant, "The bodice is too tight in front, +and it is uncomfortable under the arms. It is a little too low-necked, +and the sleeves are not wide enough."</p> + +<p>Sundown sent most of the soldiers scurrying back to camp, but the port +lacked no life that night, for sailors came ashore in increasing numbers +and American officers were<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a> everywhere. The two hotels—the Grand and +the Grand Hotel des Messageries, known to the army as the Grand and +Miserable Hotel—were thronged. Generals and Admirals rushed about to +conferences and in the middle of all the confusion a young second +lieutenant sat at the piano in the parlor of the Grand and played +Schumann's "Warum" over and over again as if his heart would break for +homesickness. The sailors and a few soldiers who seemed to have business +in the town had no trouble in making themselves at home.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, donnez moi un baiser, s'il vous plait," said one of the +apt pupils to the pretty barmaid at the Café du Centre.</p> + +<p>But she said: "Mais non."</p> + +<p>Crowds began to collect just off the main street. I hurried over to one +group of sailors, convinced that something important was going on, since +French soldiers and civilians stood about six deep. History was being +made indeed. For the first time "craps" was being played on French +soil.<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> +<small>LAFAYETTE, NOUS VOILÀ</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> navy was the first to take Paris. While the doughboys were still at +the port crowding themselves into camp, lucky sailors were on their way +to let the French capital see the American uniform. I came up on the +night train with a crowd of them. Their pockets bulged with money, tins +of salmon, ham and truffled chicken. They had chocolate in their hats +and boxes of fancy crackers under their arms, while cigars and +cigarettes poked out of their blouses. They would have nothing to do +with French tobacco, but favored a popular American brand which sells +for a quarter in New York and twice as much over here. One almost +expected each sailor to produce a roast turkey or a pheasant from up his +sleeve at meal time, but it was pretty much all meal time for these men +who were making their<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a> shore leave an intensive affair. One was a very +new sailor and he was rejoicing to find land under his feet again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, boy!" he said, when I asked him about his ship, "that old tub had +two more movements than a hula dancer."</p> + +<p>The little group in my compartment was sampling some champagne which +hospitable folk at the port had given them. It was not real champagne, +to be sure, but a cheaper white wine with twice as many bubbles and at +least as much noise. It sufficed very well, since it was ostentation +rather than thirst which spurred the sailors on and they spread their +hospitality throughout the train. A few French soldiers headed back for +the trenches were the traveling companions of the Americans. The poilus +were decidedly friendly but somewhat amazed at the big men who made so +much noise with their jokes and their songs. Of course the French were +called upon to sample the various tinned and bottled goods which the +sailors were carrying. It was "have a swig of this, Froggy" or "get +yourself around that, Frenchy." The Americans were<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> still just a bit +condescending to their brothers in arms. They had not yet seen them in +action. Of course there was much comparison of equipment and the sailors +all tried on the trench helmets of the French and found them too small. +The entente grew and presently there was an allied concert. The sailors +sang, "What a Wonderful Mother You'd Make," and the French replied with +the Verdun song, "Ils Ne Passeront Pas," and later with "Madelon."</p> + +<p>I heard that song many times afterwards and it always brings to mind a +picture of dusty French soldiers marching with their short, quick, eager +stride. They are always dusty. All summer long they wear big overcoats +which come below the knee. Dust settles and multiplies and if you see a +French regiment marching in the spring rainy season, it will still be +dusty. Perhaps their souls are a little dusty now, but it is French +dust. And as they march they sing as the men sang to the newly arrived +Americans in the train that night:<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">For all the soldiers, on their holidays,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">There is a place, just tucked in by the woods,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A house with ivy growing on the walls—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A cabaret—"Aux Toulourous"—the goods!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The girl who serves is young and sweet as love,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">She's light as any butterfly in Spring,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Her eyes have got a sparkle like her wine.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We call her Madelon—it's got a swing!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The soldiers' girl! She leads us all a dance!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">She's only Madelon, but she's Romance!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We always know she's coming by her song!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And every man, he tells his little tale,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And Madelon, she listens all day long.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Our Madelon is never too severe—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A kiss or two is nothing much to her—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">She laughs us up to love and life and God—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Madelon! Madelon! Madelon!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We all have girls for keeps that wait at home</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Who'll marry us when fighting time is done;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But they are far away—too far to tell</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">What happens in these days of cut-and-run.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We sigh away such days as best we can,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And pray for time to bring us nearer home,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But tales like ours won't wait till then to tell—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We have to run and boast to Madelon.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We steal a kiss—she takes it all in play;</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We dream she is that other—far away.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A corp'ral with a feather in his cap</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Went courting Madelon one summer's day,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And, mad with love, he swore she was superb,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And he would wed her any day she'd say.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">But Madelon was not for any such—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">She danced away and laughed: "My stars above!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Why, how could I consent to marry you,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When I have my whole regiment to love?</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I could not choose just one and leave the rest.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I am the soldiers' girl—I like that best!"</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We always know she's coming by her song!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And every man, he tells his little tale,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And Madelon, she listens all day long.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Our Madelon is never too severe—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A kiss or two is nothing much to her—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">She laughs us up to love and life and God—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Madelon! Madelon! Madelon!</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>When the train came into Paris early the next morning the sailors were +singing the chorus with the poilus. They parted company at the quai +d'Orsay. The soldiers went to the front; the sailors turned to Paris. It +was a Paris such as no one had ever seen before. The "bannière etoilée" +was everywhere. We call it the Stars and Stripes. Little flags were +stuck rakishly behind the ears of disreputable<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> Parisian cab horses; +bigger flags were in the windows of the shops and on top of buildings, +but the biggest American flag of all hung on the Strassburg monument +which shed its mourning when the war began.</p> + +<p>Two days later all the flags were fluttering, for on the morning of the +third of July the doughboys came to Paris. It made no difference that +they were only a battalion. When the French saw them they thought of +armies and of new armies, for these were the first soldiers in many +months who smiled as they marched. The train was late, but the crowd +waited outside the Gare d'Austerlitz for more than two hours. French Red +Cross nurses were waiting at the station, and the doughboys had their +first experience with French rations, for they began the long day with +"petit déjeuner." Men brought up on ham and eggs and flapjacks and +oatmeal and even breakfast pie, found war bread and coffee a scant +repast, but the ration proved more popular than was expected when it was +found that the coffee was charged with cognac. It was a stronger +stimulant, though, which<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> sent the men up on the tips of their toes as +they swung down the street covering thirty-two inches with each stride. +For the first time they heard the roar of a crowd. It was not the steady +roar such as comes from American throats. It was split up into "Vive les +Etats Unis!" and "Vive l'Amérique!" with an occasional "Vive le +President Wilson!" This appearance was only a dress rehearsal and the +troops were hurried through little frequented streets to a barracks to +await the morning of the Fourth.</p> + +<p>Paris began the great day by waking Pershing with music. The band of the +republican guard was at the gate of his house a little after eight +o'clock. The rest of Paris seemed to have had no trouble in arousing +itself without music, for already several hundred thousand persons were +crowded about the General's hotel. First there were trumpets; then +brasses blared and drums rumbled. The General proved himself a light +sleeper and a quick dresser. Before the last note of the fanfare died +away he was at the window and bowing to the crowd. This time there was a +solid<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a> roar, for everybody shouted "Vive Pershing." The band cut through +the din. There were a few strange variations and uncertainties in the +tune, but it was unmistakably "The Star Spangled Banner." Only a handful +in the crowd knew the American National anthem, but they shouted +"Chapeau, chapeau" so hard that everybody took up the cry and took off +his hat. There was a fine indefinite noisy roar which would have done +credit to a double header crowd at the Polo Grounds when Pershing left +his hotel for the "Invalides," where the march of the Americans was to +begin. It was pleasant to observe at that moment that our commander has +as straight a back as any man in the allied armies can boast.</p> + +<p>At least four hundred thousand people were crowded around the +"Invalides." They had plenty of chance to shout. They were able to keep +their enthusiasm within bounds when first Poincaré appeared and then +Painlevé. The next celebrity was Papa Joffre and hats went into the air. +There was an interval of waiting then and a bit of a riot. An old man<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> +who found the elbows of his neighbors disagreeable, exclaimed: "Oh, let +me have peace!" Somebody who heard the word "peace" shouted: "He's a +pacifist," and people near at hand began to hit at him. He was saved by +the coming of the American soldiers. "Vive les Teddies," shouted the +crowd and forgot the old man.</p> + +<p>The crowd made way for the Americans as they marched toward the +"Invalides" and into the court yard where the trophies won from the +Germans are displayed. "You will bring more from the Boche," shouted a +Frenchman. French and American flags floated above the guns and +aeroplanes and minenwerfers. During the short ceremony the American +soldiers looked about curiously at the trophies and up at the dome above +the tomb of Napoleon. Many knew him by reputation and some had heard +that he was buried there.</p> + +<p>After a short ceremony the Americans marched out of the "Invalides" and +toward the Picpus cemetery. The crowds had increased. It was hard +marching now. French children ran in between the legs of the soldiers.<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> +French soldiers and civilians crowded in upon them. It was impossible to +keep ranks. Now the men in khaki were just a little brown stream +twisting and turning in an effort to get onward. People threw roses at +the soldiers and they stuffed them into their hats and in the gun +barrels. It was reported from several sources that one or two soldiers +who were forced out of ranks were kissed, but no one would admit it +afterwards. The youngsters in the ranks tried their best to keep a +military countenance. They endeavored to achieve an expression which +should be polite but firm, an air of having been through the same +experience many times before. Only one or two old sergeants succeeded. +The rest blushed under the cheers and entangling interest of the crowd +and they could not keep the grins away when people shouted "Vive les +Teddies" or threw roses at them. On that morning it was great to be +young and a doughboy.</p> + +<p>On and on they went past high walls and gardens to the edge of the city +to a cemetery. There were speeches here and they were<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> mostly French. +Ribot spoke and Painlevé and Pershing. His was English and he said: "I +hope, and I would like to say it that here on the soil of France and in +the school of the French heroes, our American soldiers may learn to +battle and to vanquish for the liberty of the world."</p> + +<p>But the speech which left the deepest impression was the shortest of +all. Colonel Stanton stood before the tomb of Lafayette and made a +quick, sharp gesture which was broad enough to include the youngsters +from Alabama and Texas and Massachusetts and Ohio and the rest. +"Lafayette, we're here!" he said.<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> +<small>THE FRANCO-AMERICAN HONEYMOON</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> day after the Americans marched in Paris one of the French +newspapers referred to the doughboys as "Roman Cæsars clad in khaki." +The city set itself to liking the soldiers and everything American and +succeeded admirably. Even the taxicab drivers refrained from +overcharging Americans very much. School children studied the history of +America and "The Star Spangled Banner." There were pictures of President +Wilson and General Pershing in many shops and some had framed +translations of the President's message to Congress. In fact, so eager +were the French to take America to their hearts that they even made +desperate efforts to acquire a working knowledge of baseball. +<i>Excelsior</i>, an illustrated French daily, carried an action picture +taken during a game played between<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a> American ambulance drivers just +outside of Paris. The picture was entitled: "A player goes to catch the +ball, which has been missed by the catcher," and underneath ran the +following explanation: "We have given in our number of yesterday the +rules of baseball, the American national game, of which a game, which is +perhaps the first ever played in France, took place yesterday at +Colombes between the soldiers of the American ambulances. Here is an +aspect of the game. The pitcher, or thrower of balls, whom one sees in +the distance, has sent the ball. The catcher, or 'attrapeur,' who should +restrike the ball with his wooden club, has missed it, and a player +placed behind him has seized it in its flight."</p> + +<p>The next day <i>L'Intransigeant</i> undertook the even more hazardous task of +explaining American baseball slang. During the parade on the Fourth of +July some Americans had greeted the doughboys with shouts of "ataboy." A +French journalist heard and was puzzled. He returned to his office and +looked in English dictionaries and various<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> works of reference without +enlightenment. Several English friends were unable to help him and an +American who had lived in Paris for thirty years was equally at sea. But +the reporter worked it out all by himself and the next day he wrote: +"Parisians have been puzzled by the phrase 'ataboy' which Americans are +prone to employ in moments of stress or emotion. The phrase is +undoubtedly a contraction of 'at her boy' and may be closely +approximated by 'au travail, garçon.'" The writer followed with a brief +history of the friendly relations of France and America and paid a +glowing tribute to the memory of Lafayette.</p> + +<p>The name for the American soldiers gave the French press and public no +end of trouble. They began enthusiastically enough by calling them the +"Teddies," but General Pershing, when interviewed one day, said that he +did not think this name quite fitting as it had "no national +significance." The French then followed the suggestion of one of the +American correspondents and began to call the soldiers "Sammies," or as +the French pronounce it,<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> "Sammees." Although this name received much +attention in French and American newspapers it has never caught the +fancy of the soldiers in the American Expeditionary Army. Officers and +men cordially despise it and no soldier ever refers to himself or a +comrade as a "Sammy." American officers have not been unmindful of the +usefulness of a name for our soldiers. Major General Sibert, who +commanded the first division when it arrived in France, posted a notice +at headquarters which read: "The English soldier is called Tommy. The +French soldier is called poilu. The Commanding General would like +suggestions for a name for the American soldier." At the end of the week +the following names had been written in answer to the General's request: +"Yank, Yankee, Johnnie, Johnny Yank, Broncho, Nephew, Gringo, Liberty +Boy, Doughboy."</p> + +<p>Now Doughboy is a name which the soldiers use, but strictly speaking, it +refers only to an infantryman. The origin of the name is shrouded in +mystery. One officer, probably an infantryman, has written, that the +infantrymen<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a> are called doughboys because they are the flower of the +army. Another story has it that during some maneuvers in Texas an +artilleryman, comfortably perched on a gun, saw a soldier hiking by in +the thick sticky Texas mud. The mud was up to the shoetops of the +infantryman and the upper part which had dried looked almost white. +"Say," shouted the artilleryman, "what've you been doing? Walking in +dough?" And so the men who march have been doughboys ever since.</p> + +<p>Paris did not let the lack of a name come between her and the soldiers. +The theaters gave the Americans almost as much recognition as the press. +No musical show was complete without an American finale and each +soubrette learned a little English, "I give you kees," or something like +that, to please the doughboys. The vaudeville shows, such as those +provided at the Olympia or the Alhambra, gave an even greater proportion +of English speech. The Alhambra was filled with Tommies and doughboys on +the night I went. Now and again the comedians had lapses of language and +the Americans were forced to<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> let jokes go zipping by without response. +It was a pity, too, for they were good jokes even if French. Presently, +however, a fat comedian fell off a ladder and laughter became general +and international. The show was more richly endowed with actresses than +actors. The management was careful to state that all the male performers +had fulfilled their military obligations. Thus, under the picture of +Maurice Chevalier, a clever comedian and dancer, one read that Mons. +Chevalier was wounded at the battle of Cutry, when a bullet passed +between his lungs. The story added that he was captured by the Germans +and held prisoner for twenty-six months before he escaped. It did not +seem surprising therefore that Chevalier should be the gayest of funny +men. Twenty-six months of imprisonment would work wonders with ever so +many comedians back home.</p> + +<p>And yet we Americans missed the old patter until there came a breath +from across the sea. A low comedian came out and said to his partner in +perfectly good English: "Well, didja like the show?" His partner said he +didn't like the show. "Well, didja notice the trained<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a> seals?" persisted +the low comedian and the lower comedian answered: "No, the wind was +against 'em." Laughter long delayed overcame us then, but it was mingled +with tears. We felt that we were home again. The French are a wonderful +people and all that, of course, but they're so darn far away.</p> + +<p>Later there was a man who imitated Eddie Foy imperfectly and a bad +bicycle act in which the performers called the orchestra leader +"Professor" and shouted "Ready" to each other just before missing each +trick. This bucked the Americans up so much that a lapse into French +with Suzanne Valroger "dans son repertoire" failed to annoy anybody very +much. The doughboys didn't care whether she came back with her +repertoire or on it. Some Japanese acrobats and a Swedish contortionist +completed the performance. There are two such international music halls +in Paris as well as a musical comedy of a sort called "The Good Luck +Girl." The feature of this performance is an act in which a young lady +swings over the audience and invites the soldiers to capture the shoe +dangling from her right foot. The<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> shoe is supposed to be very lucky and +soldiers try hard to get it, standing up in their seats and snatching as +the girl swings by. An American sergeant was the winner the night I went +to the show, for he climbed upon a comrade's shoulder and had the +slipper off before the girl had time to swing out very far. Later, when +he went to the trenches, the sergeant took the shoe with him and he says +that up to date he has no reason to doubt the value of the charm.</p> + +<p>The most elaborate spectacle inspired by the coming of the Americans was +at the Folies Bergères which sent its chorus out for the final number +all spangled with stars. The leader of the chorus was an enormous woman, +at least six feet tall, who carried an immense American flag. She almost +took the head off a Canadian one night as he dozed in a stage box and +failed to notice the violent manner in which the big flag was being +swung. He awoke just in time to dodge and then he shook an accusing +finger at the Amazon. "Why aren't you in khaki?" he said.</p> + +<p>Restaurants as well as theaters were liberally sprinkled with men in the +American uniform.<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a> The enlisted men ate for the most part in French +barracks and seemed to fare well enough, although one doughboy, after +being served with spinach as a separate course, complained: "I do wish +they'd get all the stuff on the table at once like we do in the army. I +don't want to be surprised, I want to be fed." A young first lieutenant +was scornful of French claims to master cookery. "Why, they don't know +how to fry eggs," he said. "I've asked for fried eggs again and again +and do you know what they do? They put 'em in a little dish and bake +'em."</p> + +<p>Yet, barring this curious and barbarous custom in the cooking of eggs, +the French chefs were able to charm the palates of Americans even in a +year which bristled with food restrictions. There were two meatless days +a week, sugar was issued in rations of a pound a month per person and +bread was gray and gritty. The French were always able to get around +these handicaps. The food director, for instance, called the ice cream +makers together and ordered them to cease making their product in order +to save sugar.<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a></p> + +<p>"We have been using a substitute for sugar for seven months," replied +the merchants.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said the food director, "it will save eggs."</p> + +<p>"We have hit upon a method which makes eggs unnecessary," replied the +ice cream makers.</p> + +<p>"At any rate," persisted the food director, "my order will save +unnecessary consumption of milk."</p> + +<p>"We use a substitute for that, too," the confectioners answered, and +they were allowed to go on with their trade.</p> + +<p>The cooks are even more ingenious than the confectioners. As long as +they have the materials with which to compound sauces, meat makes little +difference. War bread might be terrapin itself after a French chef has +softened and sabled it with thick black dressing. Americans found that +the French took food much more seriously than we do in America. Patrons +always reviewed the <i>carte du jour</i> carefully before making a selection. +It was not enough to get something which would do. The meal would fall +something short of success if<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a> the diner did not succeed in getting what +he wanted most. No waiter ever hurried a soldier who was engaged in the +task of composing a dinner. He might be a man who was going back to the +trenches the next day and in such a case this last good meal would not +be a matter to be entered upon lightly. After all, if it is a last +dinner a man wants to consider carefully, whether he shall order +<i>contrefilet à la Bourguignon</i> or <i>poulet roti à l'Espagnol</i>.</p> + +<p>Whatever may be his demeanor while engaged in the business of making war +or ordering a meal, the Frenchman makes his permission a real vacation. +He talks a good deal of shop. The man at the next table is telling of a +German air raid, only, naturally, he calls them Boches. A prison camp, +he explains, was brilliantly illuminated so that the Boche prisoners +might not escape under the cover of darkness. One night the enemy +aviators came over that way and mistook the prison camp for a railroad +station. They dropped a number of bombs and killed ten of their +comrades. Everybody at the soldier's table regarded this as a good joke, +more particularly as the narrator<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a> vivified the incident by rolling his +war bread into pellets and bombarding the table by way of illustration, +accompanied by loud cries of "Plop! Plop!"</p> + +<p>Practically every man on permission in Paris is making love to someone +and usually in an open carriage or at the center table of a large +restaurant. Nobody even turns around to look if a soldier walks along a +street with his arm about a girl's waist. American officers, however, +frowned on such exhibitions of demonstrativeness by doughboys and in one +provincial town a colonel issued an order: "American soldiers will not +place their arms around the waists of young ladies while walking in any +of the principal thoroughfares of this town."</p> + +<p>Still it was not possible to regulate romance entirely out of existence. +"There was a girl used to pass my car every morning," said a sergeant +chauffeur, "and she was so good looking that I got a man to teach me +<i>'bon jour,'</i> and I used to smile at her and say that when she went by +and she'd say <i>'bon jour'</i> and smile back. One morning I got an apple +and I<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> handed it to her and said '<i>pour vous</i>' like I'd been taught. She +took it and came right back with, 'Oh, I'm ever so much obliged,' and +there like a chump I'd been holding myself down to '<i>bon jour</i>' for two +weeks."</p> + +<p>There could be no question of the devotion of Paris to the American +army. Indeed, so rampant was affection that it was occasionally +embarrassing. One officer slipped in alighting from the elevator of his +hotel and sprained his ankle rather badly. He was hobbling down one of +the boulevards that afternoon with the aid of a cane when a large +automobile dashed up to the curb and an elderly French lady who was the +sole occupant beckoned to him and cried: "<i>Premier blessé</i>." The officer +hesitated and a man who was passing stepped up and said: "May I +interpret for you?" The officer said he would be much obliged. The +volunteer interpreter talked to the old lady for a moment and then he +turned and explained: "Madame is desirous of taking you in her car +wherever you want to go, because she says she is anxious to do something +for the first American soldier wounded on the soil of France."<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a></p> + +<p>The devotion of Paris was so obvious that it palled on one or two who +grew fickle. I saw a doughboy sitting in front of the Café de la Paix +one bright afternoon. He was drinking champagne of a sort and smoking a +large cigar. The sun shone on one of the liveliest streets of a still +gay Paris. It was a street made brave with bright uniforms. Brighter +eyes of obvious non-combatants gazed at him with admiration. I was +sitting at the next table and I leaned over and asked: "How do you like +Paris?"</p> + +<p>He let the smoke roll lazily out of his mouth and shook his head. "I +wish I was back in El Paso," he said.</p> + +<p>I found another soldier who was longing for Terre Haute. Him I came upon +in the lounging room of a music hall called the Olympia. Two palpably +pink ladies sat at the bar drinking cognac. From his table a few feet +away the American soldier looked at them with high disfavor. Surprise, +horror and indignation swept across his face in three waves as the one +called Julie began to puff a cigarette after giving a light to Margot. +He looked away at<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> last when he could stand no more, and recognizing me +as a fellow countryman, he began his protest.</p> + +<p>"I don't like this Paris," he said. "I'm in the medical corps," he +continued. "My home's in Terre Haute. In Indiana, you know. I worked in +a drug store there before I joined the army. I had charge of the biggest +soda fountain in town. We used to have as many as three men working +there in summer sometimes. Right at a good business corner, you know. I +suppose we had almost as many men customers as ladies."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you like Paris?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's like this," he answered. "Nobody can say I'm narrow. I +believe in people having a good time, but——" and he leaned nearer +confidentially, "I don't like this Bohemia. I'd heard about it, of +course, but I didn't know it was so bad. You see that girl there, the +one in the blue dress smoking a cigarette, sitting right up to the bar. +Well, you may believe it or not, but when I first sat down she came +right over here and said, 'Hello, American. You nice boy. I nice girl. +You<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a> buy me a drink.' I never saw her before in my life, you understand, +and I didn't even look at her till she spoke to me. I told her to go +away or I'd call a policeman and have her arrested. I've been in Paris a +week now, but I don't think I'll ever get used to this Bohemia business. +It's too effusive, that's what I call it. I'd just like to see them try +to get away with some of that business in Terre Haute."</p> + +<p>Some of the visiting soldiers took more kindly to Paris as witness the +plaint of a middle-aged Franco-American in the employ of the Y. M. C. +A.:</p> + +<p>"I'm a guide for the Young Men's Christian Association here in Paris," +he said, "but I'm a little bit afraid I'm going to lose my job. They +make up parties of soldiers at the Y. M. C. A. headquarters every day +and turn them over to me to show around the city. Well, Monday I started +out with twelve and came back with five and today I finished up with +three out of eight. I can't help it. I've got no authority over them, +and if they want to leave the party, what can I do? But it makes trouble +for me at headquarters. Now, today,<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a> for instance, I took them first of +all to the Place Vendome. There were seven infantrymen and an +artilleryman. They seemed to be interested in the column when I told +them that it was made out of cannon captured by Napoleon. They wanted to +know how many cannon it took and what caliber they were and all that. +Everything went all right until we started for the Madeleine. We passed +a café on the way and one of the soldiers asked: 'What's this "vin" I +see around on shops?' I told him that it was the French word for wine +and that it was pronounced almost like our word 'van' only a little bit +more nasal. They all looked at the sign then, and another soldier said: +'I suppose that "bières" there is "beers," isn't it?'</p> + +<p>"I told him that it was and another guessed that 'brune ou blonde' must +mean 'dark or light.' When I said that it did, he wanted to know if he +couldn't stop and have one. I told him that I couldn't wait for him, as +the whole trip was on a schedule and we had to be at the Madeleine at +three o'clock. 'Well,' he said, 'I guess it'll be there tomorrow,' and +he went into<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a> the café. Another soldier said: 'Save a "blonde" for me,' +and followed him, and that was two gone.</p> + +<p>"After I had showed the rest the Madeleine I told them that I was going +to take them to St. Augustin. The artilleryman wanted to know if that +was another church. I said it was and he said he guessed he'd had enough +for a day. I tried to interest him in the paintings in the chapel by +Bouguereau and Brisset, but he said he wasn't used to walking so much +anyway. He was no doughboy, he said, and he left us. We lost another +fellow at Maxim's and the fifth one disappeared in broad daylight on the +Boulevard Malesherbes. He can count up to twenty in French and he knows +how to say: 'Oú est l'hotel St. Anne?' which is army headquarters, so I +guess he's all right, but I haven't an idea in the world what became of +him."</p> + +<p>The high tide in the American conquest of Paris came one afternoon in +July. I got out of a taxicab in front of the American headquarters in +the Rue Constantine and found that a big crowd had gathered in the +Esplanade<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a> des Invalides. Now and again the crowd would give ground to +make room for an American soldier running at top speed. One of them +stood almost at the entrance of the courtyard of "Invalides." His back +was turned toward the tomb of Napoleon and he was knocking out flies in +the direction of the Seine. Unfortunately it was a bit far to the river +and no baseball has yet been knocked into that stream. It was a new +experience for Napoleon though. He has heard rifles and machine guns and +other loud reports in the streets of Paris, but for the first time there +came to his ears the loud sharp crack of a bat swung against a baseball. +Since he could not see from out the tomb the noise may have worried the +emperor. Perhaps he thought it was the British winning new battles on +other cricket fields. But again he might not worry about that now. He +might hop up on one toe as a French caricaturist pictured him and cry: +"Vive l'Angleterre."</p> + +<p>One of the men in the crowd which watched the batting practice was a +French soldier headed back for the front. At any rate he had his steel +helmet on and his equipment was on<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a> his back. His stripes showed that he +had been in the war three years and he had the croix de guerre with two +palms and the medaille militaire. His interest in the game grew so high +at last that he put down his pack and his helmet and joined the +outfielders. The second or third ball hit came in his direction. He ran +about in a short circle under the descending ball and at the last moment +he thrust both hands in front of his face. The ball came between them +and hit him in the nose, knocking him down.</p> + +<p>His nose was a little bloody, but he was up in an instant grinning. He +left the field to pick up his trench hat and his equipment. The +Americans shouted to him to come back. He understood the drift of their +invitation, but he shook his head. "C'est dangéreux," he said, and +started for the station to catch his train for the front.<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> +<small>WITHIN SOUND OF THE GUNS</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> men had traveled to Paris in passenger coaches, but when it came +time to move the first division to its training area in the Vosges our +soldiers rode like all the other allied armies in the famous cars upon +which are painted "Hommes 36; chevaux en long, 8." And, of course, +anybody who knows French understands the caption to mean that the horses +must be put in lengthwise and not folded. No restrictions are mentioned +as to the method of packing the "hommes."</p> + +<p>The journey lay through gorgeous rolling country which was all a sparkle +at this season of the year. Presently the vineyards were left behind and +the hills became higher. Now and again there were fringes of pine trees. +At one point it was possible to see a French captive balloon floating +just beyond the hilltops,<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a> but we could not hear the guns yet. French +soldiers in troop trains and camps near the track cheered the Americans +and even a few of the Germans inside a big stockade waved at the men who +were moving forward to study war. The trains stopped at a little town +which lay at the foot of a hill. It was a mean little town, but on the +hill was the fine old tower of a castle which had once dominated the +surrounding country.</p> + +<p>From this town, which was chosen as divisional headquarters, regiments +were sent northeast and northwest into tiny villages which were no more +than a single line of houses along the roadway. A few one-story wooden +barracks had been built for the Americans, but ninety per cent. of the +men went into billets. They were quartered in the lofts of barns of the +better sort. The billeting officers would not consider sheds where +cattle had been kept. Few troops had been quartered in this part of the +country previously and so the barns were moderately clean.</p> + +<p>The effort to make cleanliness and sanitation something more than +relative terms was<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> the first thing which really threatened +Franco-American amity. The decision of American officers that all manure +piles must be removed from in front of dwelling houses met a startled +and universal protest. Elderly Frenchwomen explained with great feeling +that the manure piles had been there as long as they could remember and +that no one had ever come to any harm from them. The American officers +insisted, and at last a grudging consent was forced. I saw one old lady +almost on the point of tears as she watched the invaders demolish her +manure pile. At last she could stand no more. "They make a lot of dust," +she said critically, and went into the house.</p> + +<p>A few days after the Americans arrived in camp came their instructors. A +crack division of Alpine Chasseurs was chosen to teach the Americans. +Nobody called these men froggies. They called them "chassers." It was +enough to see them march to know that they were fighting men. Their +stride was short and quick. Each step was taken as if the marcher was +eager to have it over and done with so that he could take another. Even +their buglers won<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> admiration, for they had a trick of throwing their +instruments in the air and catching them again that brought envy to the +heart of every American band. Indeed, a good deal of friendly rivalry +developed from the beginning and in the early days, at least, the French +had all the better of it. They could lift heavier weights than our men, +who averaged much younger. Little Frenchmen standing five feet three or +four would seize a rifle close to the end of the bayonet and slowly +raise it with stiff arm to horizontal and down again. American farmer +boys tried and failed. Of course, this was a crack French division which +drew its men from various organizations, while our division was just the +average lot and perhaps not quite that since there was a larger +percentage of recruits than is usually found in the regular army.</p> + +<p>Although our men were somewhat outclassed by their instructors in these +early days, they were game in their effort to keep up competition. +Almost the first work to which the troops were set was trench digging. +This is one of the most important arts of war and also<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> the most +tiresome. Somebody has said of the Canadians: "They will die in the last +ditch, but they won't dig it." The Americans have a similar aversion for +work with pick and shovel, but trench digging came to them as a +competition. I saw a battalion of the chasseurs and a battalion of +marines set to work in a field where every other blow of the pick hit a +rock. There was no chance to loaf, for when a marine looked over his +shoulder he could see the French picks going for dear life down at the +other end of the trench. At four-thirty the men were told to call it a +day. The chasseurs leaped out of their trench; threw down their tools, +and began to sing at top voice a popular Parisian love ditty entitled +"Il faut de l'amour." One of the French officers told me afterwards that +it was the invariable custom of his men to sing at the end of work, but +the marines thought the "chassers" were merely showing off the excellent +nature of their wind. More slowly the Americans clambered out of their +trench, but they were ready when the last French note died<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> away and +piped up somewhat breathlessly: "Hail! Hail! the gang's all here!"</p> + +<p>American company commanders were quick to appreciate the value of +organized singing in the training of troops, and for the next few days +the doughboys were drilled to lift their voices as well as their picks. +Most of all, music was appreciated in the long hikes of the early +training period. A good song did much to make a marching man forget that +he had a fifty-pound pack on his back.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm beginning to get a real company now," one captain told me, +"because whenever they're beginning to feel tired they start to sing and +freshen up." "No," he said, in reply to a question, "they didn't just +start. It needed a little fixing. I noticed that when the Frenchmen +stopped work they always started back to camp singing. 'We can do that,' +I told my men when we started back. 'Let's hear a little noise.' Nothing +happened. Nobody wanted to begin. They were scared the others would +laugh at them. I can't carry a tune two feet, but I just struck up +'We'll hang the damned old Kaiser to a sour apple<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a> tree' to the tune of +'John Brown's Body.' A few joined in, but most of them wouldn't open +their mouths. I told 'em, 'I'm just going to keep on marching this +company until everybody's in on the song. I don't care if we have to +march all night.' That got 'em going. Now they like it. They're thinking +up new songs every day. I can save my voice now."</p> + +<p>One of the reasons for sending the men into the Vosges for training was +to get them within sound of the guns, but it was almost a week before we +heard any of the doings at the front. It was at night time that we first +heard the guns. It was a still, windless night and along about eight +o'clock they began. You couldn't be quite sure whether you heard them or +felt them, but something was stirring. It felt or sounded a good deal as +if some giant across the hills had slammed the door of his castle as he +left home to take the morning train for business. Up at the northern end +of the training area the sound of the guns was much more distinct. In +fact, they were loud enough some nights to become identified in the mind +as events and not mere rumblings. A Sammy<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> up in that village stopped +our car one morning and asked if we couldn't give him a newspaper.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you want to know how the baseball games are coming out," +somebody suggested.</p> + +<p>"To hell with baseball, I want to know about the war," said the soldier. +"I'm with these mules," he said, pointing to half a dozen animals +tethered on the bank of a canal. "I've been with them right from the +beginning. I came over on the same steamer with 'em. I rode up with 'em +in the train from —— and here we are again. I don't hear nothing. They +could capture Berlin and nobody'd tell me about it. All I do is feed +these damned mules. 'Big Bill,' that one on the end, is sick, and I've +got to hang around and give him a pill every six hours. I wish he'd +choke. I don't like him as well as the rest of the mules and I hate 'em +all.</p> + +<p>"It'll be fine, won't it, when somebody asks me: 'Daddy, what did you do +in the great war?' and I say: 'Oh, I sat up with a sick mule.'"</p> + +<p>Back of the hills from some indefinite distance<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> came the sound of big +guns. They raged persistently for ten minutes and then quit. "Big Bill" +began to rear around and kick. The soldier cursed him.</p> + +<p>"Those guns were going like that all night, but mostly around two +o'clock," he said. "Nobody around here knows anything about it. I wish I +could get hold of an American paper and find out something about that +fight. I've sent to Memphis for <i>The News Scimitar</i>, but somehow it +don't seem to get here. I wish those guns was near enough to drop +something over here on the mules, especially 'Big Bill,' but I'm out of +luck."</p> + +<p>The nearest approach of the war was in the air. It wasn't long before +German planes began to scout over the territory occupied by the +Americans. One battalion almost saw an air fight. It would have seen it +if the Major hadn't said "Attention!" just then. The battalion was +drilling in a big open meadow when there came from the East first a +whirr and then a machine. The machine, flying high, circled the field. +The soldiers who were standing at ease stared up at the visitor, but it +was too<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a> high to see the identifying marks. Soon there was no doubt that +the machine was German, for little white splotches appeared in the sky. +It looked as if Charlie Chaplin had thrown a cream pie at heaven and it +had splattered. An anti-aircraft gun concealed in a woods several miles +away was firing at the Boche. Presently the firing ceased and there was +a whirr from the West. A French plane flew straight in the direction of +the German, who climbed higher and higher. As the planes drew nearer it +was possible to see machine gun flashes, but just then the Major called +his men to attention. Regulations provide that eyes must look straight +ahead, but it was a hard test for recruits and there may have been one +or two who stole a glance up there where the planes were fighting. In +each case an officer was on the culprit like a flash.</p> + +<p>"Keep your head still," shouted a lieutenant. "That's a private fight. +It's got nothing to do with you."</p> + +<p>Soon the German turned and flew back in the direction of his own lines +and when the necks of the doughboys were unfettered and<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> they could look +up again the sky was clear. Even the cream puff splotches were gone.</p> + +<p>On another afternoon a Boche plane flew over the entire American area. +It circled a field in divisional headquarters where a baseball game was +in progress and flew home.</p> + +<p>"I know why that German flew home after he reached ——," an officer +explained. "Don't you see? He was trying to find out if we were +Americans and that baseball game proved it to him."</p> + +<p>The greatest aerial display occurred on a morning when a French officer +was instructing an American company in the art of trench digging. He +spoke no English, but an interpreter of a sort was making what shift he +could. The doughboys tried to look interested and didn't succeed. It was +harder when out from behind a cloud came one aeroplane, then another and +another. When half a dozen had appeared from behind the cloud one +doughboy could stand the strain no longer.</p> + +<p>"Look," he shouted, "they're hatching them up there."</p> + +<p>The French instructor finally granted a recess<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> of ten minutes but +before the time was up the planes had maneuvered out of sight. In spite +of all the German activity in the air only one attempt was made to bomb +the Americans during the summer. A single bomb was dropped on a village +where the marines were stationed, but it did no damage.</p> + +<p>The second week in the training area found the doughboys increasing +their curriculum to include bombs and machine guns. It had not been +possible to do much in the finer arts of war previously because of the +absence of interpreters. A number of these had been mobilized now but +they varied in quality. As one American officer put it, "Interpreters +may be divided into three classes: those who know no English; those who +know no French; and those who know neither."</p> + +<p>However, the Americans managed to get their instruction in some way or +other. No interpreters were needed with the machine guns. Instead each +American company was divided up into little groups and a chasseur placed +at the head of each group. I watched the instruction and found that +little language<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a> was needed. The Frenchman would take a machine gun or +automatic rifle apart and holding up each part give its French name. The +Americans paid no particular attention to the outlandish terms which the +French used for their machine gun parts, but they were alert to notice +the manner in which the gun was put together and in the group in which I +was standing two Americans were able to put the gun together without +having any parts left over after a single demonstration.</p> + +<p>Of course, a little language was used. Some of the marines had picked up +a little very villainous French in Hayti and they made what shift they +could with that. A few French Canadians and an occasional man from New +Orleans could converse with the chasseurs and one or two phrases had +been acquired by men hitherto entirely ignorant of French. +"Qu'est-ce-que c'est?" was used by the purists as their form of +interrogation, but there were others who tried to make "combien" do the +work. "Combien," which we pronounced "come bean," was stretched for many +purposes. I have heard it used and accepted as an equivalent<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a> for +"whereabouts," "what did you say," "why," "which one" and "will you +please show us once more how to put that machine gun together."</p> + +<p>Not only did the Americans show an aptitude for getting the hang of the +mechanism of the machine gun and the automatic rifle, but they shot well +with them after a little bit of practice.</p> + +<p>The first man I watched at work with the automatic rifle was green. He +had taken the gun apart and put it together again with an occasional +"regardez" and bit of demonstration from one of the Frenchmen, but the +weapon was not yet his pal. He picked the gun up somewhat gingerly and +aimed at the line of targets a couple of hundred yards away. Then he +pulled the trigger and the bucking thing, which seemed to be intent on +wriggling out of his arms, sprayed the top of the hill with bullets. The +French instructor made a laughing comment and an American who spoke the +language explained, "He says you ought to be in the anti-aircraft +service."</p> + +<p>The next man to try his luck was a non-commissioned<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> officer long in the +army. He patted the gun and wooed it a little in whispers before he +shot. It was a French gun, to be sure, but the language of firearms is +international. "Behave, Betsy," he said and she did. He sprayed shots +along the line of targets at the bottom of the hill as the gun clattered +away with all the clamor of a riveting machine at seven in the morning. +When they looked at the targets they found he had scored thirty hits out +of thirty-four and some were bull's-eyes. The French instructor was so +pleased that he stepped forward as if to hug the ancient sergeant but +the veteran's look of horror dissuaded him.</p> + +<p>Bombing proved the most popular part of training and particularly as +soon as it was possible to work with the live article. First of all +dummy bombs were issued. A French officer carefully explained that the +bomb should be thrown after four moves, counting one, two, three, four, +as he posed something like a shot putter before he let the bomb go with +an overhand, stiff, armed fling. He illustrated the method several +times, but the first American<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> to throw sent the bomb spinning out on a +line just as if he were hurrying a throw to first from deep short. The +Frenchman reproved him and explained carefully that, although it might +be possible to throw a bomb a long way in the manner in which a baseball +is thrown, it was necessary for a bomber to hurl many missiles and that +he must preserve his arm. He also pointed out that the bomb would never +land in the trenches of the enemy unless it was thrown with a +considerable arc.</p> + +<p>The men then kept to the exercises laid down by the instructor, but just +before they stopped one or two could not resist the temptation of again +"putting something on to it" and letting the bomb sail out fast. One +lefthander who had pitched for a season in the Southern League was +anxious to make some experiments to see if he couldn't throw a bomb with +an out curve but he was informed that such an accomplishment would have +no military utility.</p> + +<p>The first American wounded in France was the victim of a bombing +accident. A soldier threw a live bomb more than thirty meters from a +trench. When the bomb burst a fragment<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a> came whirling back in some +curious manner and fell into a box of grenades upon which a lieutenant +was sitting. The fragment cut the pin of one of the bombs and the whole +box went off with a bang. The lieutenant received only a slight cut on +his forehead, but a French interpreter thirty yards away was knocked +unconscious and lost the sight of his right eye. This Frenchman had +spent two years under fire at Verdun without being scratched and here +was his first wound come upon him on a quiet afternoon in a meadow miles +from the lines.</p> + +<p>The men threw bombs from deep trenches and they were instructed to keep +cover closely after hurling a grenade just as if there was a German +trench across the way. But curiosity was too strong for them. Each +wanted to see where his particular bomb hit and how much earth it would +tear up. The bombs made only small scars in the earth, but they sent +fragments of steel casing flying in all directions and several men were +cut about the face by splinters.</p> + +<p>The seeming inability of the American to<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> visualize battle conditions in +training retards his progress in spite of his aptitude in other +directions. A French officer was directing a platoon of Americans one +day in skirmishing. They were to fire a round, run forward twenty paces, +throw themselves flat and run forward again. One doughboy would raise +himself up on his elbows and look about. The Frenchman, very much +excited, ran over to him and said, "You must keep your head down or you +will get shot. You must remember that bullets are flying all about you."</p> + +<p>As soon as the instructor's back was turned the soldier was up on his +elbows again. "Hell," he said, "there ain't any bullets."</p> + +<p>In later phases of training the inferiority of the American to the +French in imagination showed clearly. French veterans or recruits for +that matter could work themselves up to a frenzy in sham battles and +dash into an empty trench with a shout as if it were filled with +Germans. Americans could not do that. They found it difficult to forget +that practice was just practice.<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> +<small>SUNNY FRANCE</small></h2> + +<p>L<small>ATER</small> on "Sunny France" became a mocking byword uttered by wet and muddy +men, but during the early days in the training area no one had any just +complaint about the weather. Come to think of it there wasn't anything +very wrong with those early days in rural France. Five o'clock was +pretty early for getting up but the sun could do it and keep cheerful. +It was glorious country with hills and forests and plowed fields and red +roofed villages and smooth white roads. The country people didn't throw +their hats in the air like Parisians, but they were kindly though calm.</p> + +<p>"Down in ——," said a little doughboy who came from an Indiana farm, +"everybody you meet says 'bon jour' to you whether they know you or not. +That means 'good morning.' I<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a> was in Chicago once and they don't do it +there."</p> + +<p>It wasn't Eden though. There was the tobacco situation against that +theory. To a good many soldiers, pleasant weather and kindly folk and +ample rations meant nothing much. These were minor things. The +quartermaster had no Bull Durham. When the supply of American tobacco +and cigarettes ran out the men tried the French products but not for +long. "So they call these Grenades," muttered a soldier as he examined a +popular French brand of cigarettes, "I guess that's because you'd better +throw 'em away right after you set 'em going."</p> + +<p>French matches were less popular than French tobacco. The kind they sold +in our town and thereabouts were all tipped with sulphur and usually +exploded with a blue flame maiming the smoker and amusing the +spectators. Political economists and others interested in the law of +supply and demand may be interested to know that when the tobacco famine +was at its height a package of Bull Durham worth five cents in America +was sold by<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> one soldier to another for five francs. This shortage has +since been relieved from several sources, but there has never been more +tobacco than the soldiers could smoke.</p> + +<p>Reading matter was also ardently desired during the early months in the +Vosges. An enterprising storekeeper in one town sent a hurry call to +Paris for English books and a week later she proudly displayed the +following volumes on her shelves: "The Life of Dean Stanley," "Sermons +by the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon," "The Jubilee Book of Cricket," "The +Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins (Lord of Brampton)," and "The +Recollections of the Rt. Hon. Sir Algernon West."</p> + +<p>A few companies had libraries of their own. I wonder who made the +selection of titles. The volumes I picked out at random in one village +were: "The Family Life of Heinrich Heine," "Fourteen Weeks in +Astronomy," "Recollections and Letters of Renan," "Education and the +Higher Life," "Bible Stories for the Young," and "Henry the Eighth and +His Six Wives." The librarian said that the last was the most popular +book in the collection although<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> several readers admitted that it did +not come up to expectations. Just as I was going out the top sergeant +came in to return a book. I asked him what it was. He said, "It's a book +called 'When Patty Went to College.'"</p> + +<p>Our town was big and had moving pictures twice a week, but up the line +in the little villages there was no such source of amusement. After the +men had been in training for a week or more, a French Red Cross outfit +stopped at one of the villages with a traveling movie outfit and +announced that they would show a picture that night. According to the +announcement the picture was "Charlot en 'Le Vagabond.'" It sounded +foreign and forbidding. The doughboys anticipated trouble with the +titles and the closeups of what the heroine wrote and all the various +printed words which go to make a moving picture intelligible. Still they +were patient when the title of the picture was flashed on the screen and +they tried to look interested. The first scene was a road winding up to +a distant hill and down the highway with eccentric gait there walked a +little man strangely reminiscent.<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a> He drew nearer and nearer and as the +figure came into full view the soldier in front of me could stand the +strain no longer. He jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I'm a son of a gun," he shouted, "if it isn't Charlie Chaplin."</p> + +<p>Recognition upon the part of the audience was instantaneous and +enthusiasm unbounded. If the Americans go out tomorrow and capture +Berlin they cannot possibly show more joy than they did at the sight of +Charlie Chaplin in France. Never again will the French be able to fool +them by disguising him as "Charlot."</p> + +<p>After a bit the soldiers learned to entertain themselves and several +companies developed a number of talented performers. The first company +show I attended mixed boxing and music. They began with boxing. There +was a short intermission during which the first tenor fixed up a bloody +nose. He had received a bit the worst of it in the heavyweight bout. The +other members of the quartet gave him cotton and encouragement. Finally +he put on his shirt and hitching up his voice,<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> began, "Naught but a few +faded roses can my sweet story tell." His comrades joined him at "My +heart was ever light," and they finished the ballad in perfect +alignment.</p> + +<p>Almost all the songs were sentimental and many were old. They had +"Dearie," and "Where the River Shannon Flows," and that one about +Ireland falling out of Heaven (just as if the devil himself had not done +the very same thing). Later there were "Mother Machree" and "Old +Kentucky Home." Patriotism was not neglected. "When I Get Back Home +Again to the U.S.A." was the favorite among the recent war songs. The +only savor of army life in the program on this particular evening was in +a couple of Mexican songs brought up from the border by men who went to +get Villa. They brought back "Cucaracha" with all its seventeen obscene +Spanish verses. There was also one parody inspired by this war and sung +to the tune of "My Little Girl, I'm Dreaming of You." It went something +like this:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">America, I'm dreaming of you</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And I long for you each day</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">America, I'm fighting for you</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Tho' you're many miles away</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">We'll knock the block right off the Kaiser</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And we'll drive them 'cross the Rhine—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And then we'll sail back home to you, dear</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To the tune of "Wacht am Rhein"!</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The American soldier does not seem to be much of a song maker. Songs by +soldiers and for soldiers are not common with us yet. We have nothing as +close to the spirit of the trenches as the British ditty "I want to go +home," which always leaves the auditor in doubt as to whether he should +take it seriously and weep or humorously and laugh. Possibly there is +something of both elements in the song. The mixture has been typical of +the British attitude toward the war. Here is the song:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">I want to go 'ome</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I want to go 'ome</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Maxims they spit</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">And the Johnsons they roar</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I don't want to go to the front any more</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Oh take me over the seas</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Where the Alley-mans can't get at me</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Oh my; I don't want to die,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I want to go 'ome.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a></p> + +<p>The American army is still looking for a song. None of the new ones has +achieved universal popularity. However the many who heard the quartet of +Company L sing on this particular evening seemed to have no objection to +the old songs. In fact they were new to many in the audience for as the +concert went on French soldiers joined the audience and townspeople hung +about the edges of the crowd. They listened politely and applauded, +though indeed one must get a strange impression of America if his +introduction is through our popular songs. Such a foreigner is in danger +of believing that ours is a June land in which the moon is always +shining upon a young person known as "little girl." Yet the French +expressed no astonishment at the songs. Only one feature puzzled them +profoundly. At the end of a particularly effective song the captain +said, "Those men sang that very well. Bring 'em each a glass of water."</p> + +<p>No villager could quite understand why a man who had committed no more +palpable crime than tenor singing should be forced to<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> partake of a +drink which is cold, tasteless and watery.</p> + +<p>Most the villages in our part of France had only one dimension. They +consisted of a line of houses on either side of the roadway and they +were always huddled together. Land is too valuable in France to waste it +on lawns and suchlike. Some of the villages were tiny and shabby, but +none was too small or too mean to be without its little café. It took +the doughboys some little time to get over their interest in the +startling fact that champagne was within the reach of the working man, +but they went back to beer in due course and now champagne is among the +things which shopkeepers must not sell to American soldiers. The +prohibition of the sale of cognac and champagne is all that the army +needs. Beer and light wines are not a menace to the health or behavior +of our army. Beer is by far the most popular drink and it would be an +ambitious man indeed who would seek the slightest deviation from +sobriety in the thin war beer of France. He might drown.</p> + +<p>Absolute prohibition for the army in France<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> would be well nigh +impossible. It would mean that every inn and shop and railroad station +and farmhouse would have to be classed as out of bounds. In fact +prohibition could not be enforced unless our soldiers were ordered never +to venture within four walls. Wine is to be had under every roof in +France and you can get it also in not a few places where the roof has +been shot to pieces. The French are interested in temperance just now. +On many walls posters are exhibited showing a German soldier and a black +bottle with the caption, "They are both the enemies of France," but when +a Frenchman talks of temperance or prohibition or the abolition of the +liquor traffic he never thinks of including wine or beer. The civil +authorities of France would not be much use in helping the American army +enforce a bone-dry order. They simply wouldn't understand it.</p> + +<p>There was some excessive drinking when the army first came to France but +it has been checked. A number of influences have made for discretion. +One of the most potent is the opportunity for promotion in an army in +the<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> field. Officers have been quick to point this out to their men. One +captain called his company together in the early days and said, "Some of +the men in this company are going out and getting pinko, stinko, sloppy +drunk. Any man who gets drunk goes in the guard house of course and more +than that he will get no promotion from me. I'm going to pick my +sergeants from the fellows that have got sense. You may notice that some +of the men who drink are old soldiers. Don't take an example from that. +Remember that's why they're old soldiers. There isn't any sense in +blowing all your money in for booze. Now if I took my pay in a lump at +the end of a month I could buy every café in this town and I could stay +drunk for a year. That would be fine business, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I guess maybe I exaggerated a little about the length of time I could +stay drunk," the captain told me afterwards, "but do you know that talk +seems to have done the trick."</p> + +<p>One factor which worked for temperance was the French fashion of making +drinking deliberate and social. When an American can<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> be induced to sit +down to his potion he is comparatively safe. These little village cafés +did no harm after the first brief period when the American soldier had +his fling and they served the good purpose of encouraging fraternization +between doughboy and poilu.</p> + +<p>The contact with French soldiers brought no great vocabulary to our men +but if they learned few words they did get the hang of making their +wants understood. In a week or two innkeepers or women in shops had no +trouble at all in attending to the wants of Americans. Probably the +French people made somewhat faster linguistic progress than the +soldiers. The Americans were willing to be met at least halfway. When I +asked one doughboy, "How do you get along with the French? Can you make +them understand you?" he said, "Why, they're coming along pretty well. I +think most of 'em will pick it up in time."</p> + +<p>But there was one French word the soldiers had to learn. That was +"fineesh." The children forced that word upon them. They were always at +the heels of the American soldiers.<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a> They galloped the doughboys up and +down the village streets in furious piggyback charges. They borrowed jam +from company cooks and rode in the supply trucks. Of course there had to +be an end to the rides, sometimes, and even to the jam and the only way +to convince the children of France that an absolute unshakable limit had +been reached was to thrust two hands aloft and cry "fineesh." The old +women liked the doughboys too because they would draw water from the +wells for them and occasionally lend a hand in moving wood or wheat or +fodder. Nor do I mean to imply that the younger women of the little +villages did not esteem the doughboys. "Tell 'em back home that there +aren't any good looking women in France," was the message that ever so +many soldiers asked me to convey to anxious individuals in America. I +hand the message on but must refuse to pass upon its sincerity.</p> + +<p>American officers got along well with the French but they never reached +the same degree of chumminess that the men did. They met French officers +at more or less formal<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a> luncheons and had to go through a routine of +speeches largely concerned with Lafayette and Rochambeau and Washington. +Poilus and doughboys did not go so far back for their subjects of +conversation. The American enlisted man had a great advantage over his +officer in the matter of language. He might know less French, but he was +much more ready to experiment. An officer did not like to make mistakes. +His was defensive French, a weapon to be used guardedly in cases of +extreme need. When a visiting officer hurled a compliment at him he +replied, but he seldom took the initiative. After all he was an American +officer and he feared to make himself ridiculous by poor pronunciation +and worse grammar. The soldier had no such scruples. He saw no reason +why he should be any more abashed by French grammar than by English and +as for pronunciation he followed the advice of a little pamphlet called +"The American in France" which was rushed out by some French firm for +sale to the American army. In the matter of pronunciation the book said, +"Since pronunciation is the most difficult part<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> of any language the +publishers of this book have decided to omit it." The soldiers were +ready to adopt this method and only wished that it could be extended to +other things. To trench digging for instance.</p> + +<p>The most daring man in the use of an unfamiliar language was not a +soldier but a second lieutenant. He took great pride in his talent for +pantomime and asserted that his vocabulary of some thirty words and his +gestures filled all his needs. He was somewhat startled though on an +afternoon when he went into a shop to purchase "B.V.D.'s" and found the +store in charge of the young daughter of the proprietor. Pantomime +seemed hardly the thing and so he paused long to think up a word for the +garment he wanted or some approximation. At last he smiled and exclaimed +brightly, "Chemise pour jambes, s'il vous plait."</p> + +<p>Stores were not the strong point of our bit of France. We soon came to +regard our town as a metropolis because people journeyed there to make +"shopping tours." One afternoon I marked fifteen visiting soldiers with +their eyes glued against a shop window which<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a> displayed half a dozen +electric flashlights, two quarts of champagne, a French-English +dictionary and a limited assortment of postcards. These, of course, were +barred from the mail by censorship but the soldiers collected them to be +taken home after the war.</p> + +<p>"These French postcards aren't exactly what some of the boys back home +are going to expect," one soldier admitted. "I went to three shops now +but the others have been ahead of me and all I could get was these two. +One's a picture called 'l'eglise' and the other's 'la maison de Jeanne +d'Arc.'"</p> + +<p>The shops had hard work in keeping up with more commodities than picture +postcards. There seemed to be an insatiable demand for canned peaches +and sardines. Somehow or other men who have been on a long march simply +crave either sardines or canned peaches. The doughboys did a good deal +of eating at their own expense. Army food was plentiful and moderately +varied. Beans and corned beef hash were served a good many times +perhaps, but there was no lack of fresh meat and there was plenty of jam +and of carrots and onions<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> and heavy gravy. Food, however, was an outlet +for spending money and in some villages the men got so eager that they +would buy anything. Little traveling shops in wagons came through the +smaller villages in the northern part of the training area loaded with +all sorts of gimcracks intended for the peasant trade. The peddlers had +no time to put in a special line for the soldiers. They found that it +was not necessary. Desperate men with pockets full of money would +purchase even the imitation tortoise shell sidecombs which the itinerant +merchants had to sell.</p> + +<p>The purchasing capacity of the soldier was not limited to his pay alone. +The villagers were wildly excited about the white bread issued to the +American army. It was the first they had seen since the second year of +the war. One old lady seized a loaf which was presented to her and +crying "il est beau," sat down upon a doorstep and began to eat the +bread as if it were cake. The rate of exchange fluctuated somewhat but +there were days when a loaf of white bread could be exchanged for a +whole roast chicken.<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a></p> + +<p>The eagerness of the American soldier to spend his money had the result +of tempting French storekeepers to raise their prices and as the cost of +living mounted the civilian population began to complain. Even the +soldiers had suspicions at last that they were being charged too much in +some stores and the American officers took over price control as another +of their many responsibilities.</p> + +<p>"I went to the mayor," one town major explained, "and I said, 'Look +here, Bill, I don't mind 'the shopkeepers putting a little something +over. All I ask is that they just act reasonable. They'll get all the +money in time anyhow, and so I wish you'd tip them off not to be in so +much of a hurry.' He couldn't talk any English, that mayor couldn't, but +the interpreter told him about it and he went right to the front for us. +From that day to this we've had only one complaint about anything in our +village. That came from an old lady who had some doughboys billeted in a +barn next to the shed where she kept her sheep. She came to me and said +the soldiers talked so much at night that the sheep couldn't sleep."<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> +<small>PERSHING</small></h2> + +<p>N<small>OBODY</small> will ever call him "Papa" Pershing. He is a stepfather to the +inefficient and even when he is pleased he says little. In the matter of +giving praise the General is a homeopath. For that reason he can gain +enormous effect in the rare moments when he chooses to compliment a man +or an organization. Pershing believes that discipline is the foundation +of an army.</p> + +<p>"I think," said one young American officer, "that his favorite military +leader is Joshua because he made the sun and the moon stand at +attention." In other words Pershing is a soldiers' soldier. No man can +strike such hard blows as he does and leave no scars. There are men here +and there in the army who do not love him but their criticism almost +invariably ends, "but I guess I'll have to admit that he's a good +soldier."<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a></p> + +<p>Pershing is not a disciplinarian merely for the sake of discipline but +he believes that it is the gauge of the temper of any military +organization. His interest in detail is insatiable. He can read a man's +soul through his boots or his buttons. Next to the Kaiser, Pershing +hates nothing so much as rust and dust and dirt. Perhaps round shoulders +should go in the list as well, and pockets. Certainly he makes good the +things he preaches. There is no finer figure in any army in Europe. The +General is fit from the tip of his glistening boots to his hat top. We +saw him once after he had walked through a front line trench on a rainy +day. There were sections of that trench where the mud was over a man's +shoetops and the back area which had to be crossed before the trench +system was reached was a great lake of casual water fed at its fringes +by roaring rain torrents. And yet the general came out of the trench +without a speck of mud on his boots in spite of the fact that he had +plunged along with no apparent regard for his footing.</p> + +<p>There was dust behind him, though, on the<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> afternoon he first came to +the training area to see his men. News reached our town that the general +was up in the northern end of the training zone and moving fast. An +officer passing by gave me a lift in his car and when we arrived at the +next village half a dozen soldiers who were sitting on a bench jumped up +for dear life and jarred themselves to the very heels with the stiffest +of military salutes.</p> + +<p>The officer grinned. "Pershing's in town," he said and so he was.</p> + +<p>We found him in a kitchen talking about onions to a cook. He asked each +soldier in turn what sort of food he was getting. Some were too +frightened to do more than mumble an inaudible answer. A few said, "Very +good, sir." And one or two had complaints. The General listened to the +complaints attentively and in each case pressed his questions so as to +make the soldier be absolutely concrete in his answers. Next he turned +upon an officer and wanted to know just what the sewage system of the +town was. The officer was a dashing major and he seemed ill at ease when +Pershing<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> asked how many days a week he inspected the garbage dump.</p> + +<p>"That isn't enough," said the General when the major answered. "I want +you to pay more attention to those things."</p> + +<p>From the kitchen he went into every billet in the village. In two he +climbed up the ladders to see what sort of sleeping quarters the men had +in their lofts. In one billet a soldier stole a look over his shoulder +at the General as he passed. Pershing turned immediately.</p> + +<p>"That's not the way to be a soldier," he said. "You haven't learned the +first principle of being a soldier." He turned to a second lieutenant. +"This man doesn't stand at attention properly," he explained. "I want +you to make him stand at attention for five minutes."</p> + +<p>The next offender was a captain who had one hand in his pocket while +giving an order. The General spoke to him just as severely as he had to +the enlisted man. Then he was into his car and away to the next village.</p> + +<p>Pershing is always on the move. One of his aides told me that he never +had more than five minutes' notice of where the General was<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> going or +how long he would stay. No man in the army has covered so much territory +as Pershing. He has been in practically every village occupied by the +American troops. He has inspected every hospital and every training +camp. One day he will be at a port looking at the accommodations which +are being made for incoming vessels and on the next he will have jumped +from the base to a front line trench. He has been on all the Western +fronts except the Italian. His French and British and Belgian hosts find +him a most ambitious guest. He wants to see everything. Once while +observing a French offensive he expressed a desire to go forward and see +a line of trenches which had just been captured from the Germans. The +French tried to dissuade him but the General complained that he could +not see just how things were going from any other position and so into +the German trench he went.</p> + +<p>Pershing has developed in France. Like every other man in the American +army he has had to study modern warfare, but more than that he has +caught something of the spirit of<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a> the French. He has acquired some of +their ability to put a gesture into command, to utilize personality in +the inspiration of troops. He is not yet the equal of the French in this +respect. Joffre, for instance, fully realized the military usefulness of +his enormous popularity and capitalized it. It was not mere luck that he +became a tradition. Pétain, while by no means the equal of Joffre on the +personal side, knows how to talk to soldiers and to townsfolk and to +make himself a big human force.</p> + +<p>While he is still a homeopath, General Pershing realizes more than he +ever did before the value of a pat on the back given at the right time. +I saw him do one of those little gracious things in a base hospital +which was caring for the first American wounded. A youthful doughboy was +lying flat on his back wondering just how long it was going to be before +supper time came round when all of a sudden there was a clatter at the +door. The doughboy was afraid it was going to be some more nurses and +doctors. They had bothered him a lot by bandaging up his arm every +little<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> while and it hurt, but when he looked up at the foot of his bed +there stood the man with four stars on his shoulders. The little +doughboy grinned a bit nervously. He thought it was funny that he should +be lying on his back and General Pershing standing up.</p> + +<p>The General was somewhat nervous and embarrassed, too. He still lacks a +little of the French feeling for the dramatic in the doing of these +little things. He had to clear his throat once and then he said, "I want +to congratulate you. I envy you. There isn't a man in the army who +wouldn't like to be in your place. You have brought home to the people +of America the fact that we are in the war."</p> + +<p>The doughboy didn't say anything, but the nurse who made the rounds that +evening wondered why a patient who was doing so well should have a pulse +hitting up to ninety-six.</p> + +<p>Earlier in the summer General Pershing encountered some far more +embarrassing tests. He had to handle bouquets. The donor was usually a +French girl and a very little one. When Pershing and Pétain made a joint +trip<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a> through the American army zone there were two little girls and two +bouquets in each village. General Pétain, after receiving his bouquet, +would bend over gracefully and kiss the little girl, adding one or two +kindly phrases immediately following "ma petite." General Pershing began +by patting the little girls on the head, but he realized it was not +enough and after a bit he began to kiss them, too; only once or twice he +got tangled up in their hats and found it hard to maintain military +dignity. He handled the flowers gingerly. He seemed to regard each +bouquet as a bomb which would explode in five seconds but each time +there was some aide ready to step forward and relieve him.</p> + +<p>The attitude of the average West Pointer towards his men is generally +speaking the same as that of General Pershing. Some observers think the +West Point attitude too strict, but I was inclined to believe that the +men from the academy handled men better than the reserve officers. They +are strict, it is true, but at the same time they have been trained to +look after the needs of their men closely.<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> The trouble with the average +reserve officer is that he has not had time to learn how much he must +father his men and mother them, too, for that matter. He does not know +probably just how dependent the average soldier is upon his officer.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the strictest officer of all is the man who was once a non-com. +The former doughboy knows the tricks of the enlisted man and he is +determined that nobody shall put anything over on him. He is often just +a little bit afraid that the soldiers are going to trade on the fact +that he was once an enlisted man. I once saw a soldier offer some cigars +to two officers. One of the officers was a West Pointer and he laughed +and took a cigar but the former non-com. refused very sternly. He could +not afford to be indebted to an enlisted man.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to imply that the men who come up from the ranks do not +make good officers. As a matter of fact they are among the best, once +their preliminary self-consciousness has worn off. The transition from +stripes to bars is perfect torture to some of<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> them. One company had a +crack soldier who had been a sergeant for seven years. He was +recommended for promotion and was sent to an officers' training school +in France. He did very well but just a week before he was to receive his +commission he succeeded in gaining permission to be dropped from the +school and go back to his old company as sergeant. At the last minute he +had decided that he did not want to be an officer.</p> + +<p>I watched him put a company through its drill two days after his return. +They moved with spirit and precision under his commands but when it was +all over I found one reason why he didn't want to be an officer.</p> + +<p>"That was very good today," he said. "You done well."</p> + +<p>The first lieutenant smiled. He had a right to smile, too, for the +return of the sergeant to his company had almost cut his work in half. +He knew his value well enough.</p> + +<p>"The best I can do is teach the men," he said. "It takes an old sergeant +to learn them."<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> +<small>MEN WITH MEDALS</small></h2> + +<p>G<small>ENERAL</small> P<small>ÉTAIN</small> was the first of many famous Frenchmen who came to see +the American troops in training. He also had the additional object of +reviewing the chasseurs and of distributing medals, for this crack +division had been withdrawn from one of the most active sectors to +instruct the doughboys. General Pershing accompanied Pétain. The blue +devils were drawn up in formation in the middle of a big meadow cupped +within hills. The seven men who were to be honored stood in a line in +front of the division. Six were officers and they awaited the pleasure +of the general with their swords held at attention. The seventh man who +stood at the right of the little line was an old sergeant with a great +flowing gray and white mustache. The rifle which he held in front of him +overtopped him by at least a foot.<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p> + +<p>The ceremony began with a fanfare by the trumpeters. As the last notes +came tumbling back from the hills Pétain moved forward. We found that he +was not so tall as Pershing nor quite as straight. The French leader is +also a little gray and about his waist there is just a suggestion of the +white man's burden. But he is soldierly for all that and his eyes are +marvelously keen and steady. His tailor deserved a decoration. The +general wore only one medal, but that was as large as the badge of a +country sheriff. It was a great silver shield hung about his neck and +indicated that he was a commander of the Legion of Honor. He stopped in +front of the first officer in the little line waiting to be honored and +spoke to him for a moment. Then he pinned a red ribbon on his coat and +kissed the man first on the left cheek and then on the right. The +doughboys looked on in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be damned," said one under his breath, "it's true."</p> + +<p>Four men received the red ribbons, but the other three were down only +for the military medal which is a high decoration but less esteemed<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> +than the Legion of Honor. No kisses went with the green and yellow +ribbons of the military medal but only handshakes. Pétain stopped in +front of the old sergeant at the end of the line and looked at him for a +minute without speaking. Then he called an orderly.</p> + +<p>"This man has three palms on his croix de guerre," said Pétain.</p> + +<p>Now a palm means that soldier has been cited for conspicuous bravery in +the report of the entire army.</p> + +<p>"The military medal is not enough for this man," continued Pétain. "Step +forward," he said.</p> + +<p>The old sergeant trembled a little as he stood a tiny, solitary gray +figure in front of the whole division.</p> + +<p>"Bring back the trumpets," Pétain commanded and for the lone poilu the +fanfare was sounded again.</p> + +<p>"I make you a chevalier of the Legion of Honor," said the commander in +chief of the French army to the old sergeant, and after he had pinned +the red ribbon to his breast he added a hug to the conventional two +kisses.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> The poilu moved back to the ranks steadily, but as soon as the +general had turned his back the sergeant pulled out his handkerchief and +wept. The soldiers greeted their comrade with cheers and laughter.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Pétain turning to Pershing, "let's take it easy for a little +while. I've seen plenty of reviews."</p> + +<p>The French general walked across the space cleared for the review and +began to talk with people in the fringe of spectators gathered around +the edge of the meadow. He talked easily without any seeming +condescension.</p> + +<p>"How are you, my little man?" he said, patting a boy on the head. "In +what military class are you?"</p> + +<p>Encouraged by his father the boy said that he was in the class of 1928.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the general, "that's a long time off. We shall have beaten +the Boches before then."</p> + +<p>Next it was a peasant girl who attracted his attention.</p> + +<p>"Where have you come from?" he inquired with as much apparent interest +as if he were<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> talking with a soldier just back from Berlin. "That was a +long walk just to see soldiers," he said when the girl told him that she +lived in a little village about ten miles distant. "But we are glad to +have you here," he added.</p> + +<p>And so he moved on down the line with handshakes for the grownups, pats +on the head for little boys and kisses for little girls. He turned back +to his reviewing station then and the French troops swept by with brave +display: They were very smart and brisk, horse, foot and artillery, but +Pétain found a few things to criticize although he mingled praise +generously with censure. He told the officers to know their men and to +get on such terms with them that the soldiers would not be afraid to +speak freely. He told of reforms which he planned to introduce in the +French army. He favored longer leaves from the front, he said, and +better transportation for the poilus.</p> + +<p>"I shall have time tables made for the men on leave," he said and then +for an instant he became the shrewd French business man rather than the +dashing general.<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a></p> + +<p>"I have figured out," he explained, "that the army can afford to sell +these time tables for five sous. It wouldn't do to give them away. +Nobody would value them then."</p> + +<p>A week later we had another visitor. French generals and all their +resplendent aides clicked their heels together and stood at attention as +this civilian passed by. He was a short stoutish man in blue serge +knickerbockers and a dark yachting cap. His tailor deserved no +decoration for this seemed a secondary sort of costume and headgear in a +group loaded down with gold braid and valor medals. But their swords +flashed for the man in the yachting cap and a great general saw him into +his car, for the stoutish visitor was the President of the French +Republic. Generals Pétain and Pershing accompanied Poincaré in his car +up to the drill ground. It was an American division which marched this +morning. In fact it was the same unit which had marched through the +streets of the port only a few months before. They had grown browner and +straighter since that day and they looked taller. Group consciousness +had dawned in<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> them now. The only lack of discipline was shown by the +mules. It must be admitted that the mule morale left much to be desired. +Many were new to the task of dragging machine guns and those that did +not sulk tried to run away. Strong arms and stronger words prevailed +upon them.</p> + +<p>"Remember," the driver would plead, "you have a part in making the world +safe for democracy," and in a trice all the evil would flee from the +eyes and the heels of the unruly animals.</p> + +<p>A number of bands helped to keep the men swinging into the face of a +driving rain. The French officers who accompanied Pétain and Poincaré +were somewhat surprised when one regiment went by to the tune of +"Tannenbaum," but General Pershing explained that it had been played in +America for years under the name of "Maryland, My Maryland." He had a +harder task some minutes later when a band struck up a regimental hymn +called "Happy Heinie," which borrows largely from "Die Wacht am Rhein" +for its chorus.</p> + +<p>As soon as the troops marched by, General<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> Pershing sent orders for all +the officers to assemble. They gathered in a great half circle before +the French President who spoke to them slowly and with much earnestness. +Indeed, he spoke so slowly that fair scholars could follow his +discourse. Even those who could grasp no more than such words as +"Lafayette" and "President Wilson" and "la guerre" listened with +apparent interest. M. Poincaré called attention to the fact that the day +was the anniversary of the Battle of the Marne and also the birthday of +Lafayette. These days, he said, linked together the two nations which +were making a common cause in the struggle for civilization and he ended +with a dramatic sweep of his arm as he exclaimed, "Long live the free +United States." However, he called it Les Etats Unis which made it more +difficult.</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" a group of doughboys asked a sergeant chauffeur who +had been stationed near enough to hear the speech. "I didn't get it +all," said the sergeant, "but it sounded a good deal like 'give 'em +hell.'"</p> + +<p>The President and his party spent the rest<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a> of the afternoon inspecting +the billets of the Americans. In one barn Poincaré insisted on climbing +up a ladder to see the quarters at close range and as he climbed slowly +and clumsily it came to my mind that the presidential waist line, the +knickerbockers and the yachting cap were all symbols of the fact that +France even in war was still a civil democracy.</p> + +<p>Still it must be admitted that the next civilian we saw was more warlike +than any of the soldiers. The only military equipment worn by Georges +Clemenceau was a pair of leather puttees which didn't quite fit, but he +had eyes and eyebrows and a jaw which all combined to suggest pugnacity. +He was not then premier and indeed he had been in political retirement +for some time, but he made a greater impression on the soldiers than any +of our visitors because he spoke in English. It was on September 16, +1917, that Clemenceau saw American soldiers, but he had seen them once +before and that was in Richmond in 1864 when Grant marched into the +city. Clemenceau was then a school teacher in America. The old Frenchman +watched the sons and grandsons<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a> of those dead and gone fighters and +expressed the wish that he might see American troops once again when +they marched into Berlin.</p> + +<p>The doughboys he saw in France were not the seasoned troops which swung +by him on those dusty Virginia roads so many years ago, but in their +hands were new weapons which might have turned the tide at Bull Run and +changed Gettysburg from victory into a rout. Certainly Pickett would +have never swept up to the Union lines if there had been machine guns +such as those with which the rookies blistered the targets for the +edification of the distinguished guests and the bombs which sent the +pebbles sky high might have given pause even to Stonewall Jackson.</p> + +<p>There were sports as well as military exercises in the program arranged +for Clemenceau. There were footraces and a tug of war and boxing +matches. In one of these American blood was freely shed on French soil +for a middleweight against whom the tide of battle was turning butted +his opponent and cut his forehead.<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a></p> + +<p>I did not see Joffre when he paid a visit to the army zone and reviewed +the troops but he left a glamor for us all in our messroom where he had +dinner with General Pershing. It was a reporterless dinner so it meant +less to us than to Henriette who served the dinner for the two generals. +Nothing much had ever happened to Henriette before. She looked like +Jeanne d'Arc, but the only voices she ever heard cried, "L'eau chaude, +Henriette," or "Hot water" or "Œufs" or "Eggs." And if they were not +wanted right away they must be had "toute de suite."</p> + +<p>It was Henriette who brushed the boots and cleaned the dishes and swept +the floors and every night she waited on peasants and peddlers and +reporters. Once she had a major in the reserve corps. He was attached to +the quartermaster's department. But on the historic night she stood at +the right elbow of General Joffre and the left elbow of General +Pershing. I was away at the time and the correspondents were telling me +about it before dinner. While we were talking she came into the room +with the roast veal and I said, "Henriette,<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a> they tell me that while I +was away you waited upon Marshal Joffre and General Pershing."</p> + +<p>One of the men at the table made a warning gesture, but it was too late. +Henrietta put the hot veal down to cool on a side table and pointed to +the seat nearest the window. A large man from a press association sat +there but she looked through him and saw the hero of the Marne. +"Maréchal Joffre là," said Henriette. She turned to a nearer seat and +pointing to the shrinking representative of the Chicago <i>Tribune</i> +explained, "General Pearshing ici."</p> + +<p>One of the men rose from the table then and got the veal. Something was +said about fried potatoes, but Henriette remained to tell me about the +historic dinner. She admitted that she was very nervous at first. That +was increased by the fact that General "Pearshing" ate none of his +pickled snails. The Maréchal had fifteen. The soup went well, Henriette +said, and General Pearshing cheered her up enormously by his conduct +with the mutton. The chicken was also a success. After the<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> chicken the +generals held their glasses in the air and stood up. Henriette noticed +that when Maréchal Joffre stood up he was "gros comme une maison."</p> + +<p>As he left the room Maréchal Joffre pinched her cheek but the mark was +gone before she could show it to the cook. For all that Henriette had +something to show that she waited upon generals at the famous dinner. +She opened a new locket which she wore around her neck and took out a +small piece of gilt paper. She would not let me touch it, but when I +looked closely I saw that it had printed upon it "Romeo and Juliet."</p> + +<p>"It's the band off the cigar Pershing smoked at the dinner," explained +one of the correspondents. Henriette put the treasure back in her locket +and sighed. "Je suis très contente," she said.<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> +<small>LETTERS HOME</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> British army tells a story of a soldier who had been at the front +for a year and a half without ever once writing home. This state of +affairs was called to the attention of his officer who summoned the +soldier and asked him if he had no relatives. The Tommy admitted that he +had a mother and an aunt.</p> + +<p>"I want you to go back to quarters," said the captain, "and stay there +until you've written a letter. Then bring it to me."</p> + +<p>The soldier was gone for two hours and then he returned and handed the +officer a single sheet of letter paper. His note read, "Dear Ma—This +war is a blighter. Tell auntie. With love—Alfred."</p> + +<p>It was different in the American army. The doughboys wrote to their +families to the second and third cousin. One soldier turned fifty-two +letters over to his lieutenant for censorship<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> in a single day. The men +hardly seemed to need the suggestion posted on the wall of every +Y.M.C.A. hut: "Remember to write to mother today." Of course it was not +always mother. I came upon a couple of lieutenants one afternoon hard at +work on an enormous batch of letters. It was originally intended that +the chaplain should censor all the mail for the regiment but it was +found that the task would be far beyond the powers of any one man. In +time the job came to absorb a large part of the energy of the junior +officers.</p> + +<p>"This," said one of the officers, "is the fifth soldier who's written +that 'our officers are brave, intelligent and kind!' I know I'm brave +and intelligent, but I'm not so damned kind," and he ripped out half a +page of over faithful description of the country.</p> + +<p>"The man I have here," said the second officer, "has got a joke. He +says, 'If I ever get home the Statue of Liberty will have to turn round +if she ever wants to see me again.' It was all right the first time, but +now I've got to his tenth letter and he's still using it."<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a></p> + +<p>It has been found that more than fifty per cent. of the mail sent home +consists of love letters. The fact that they have to be censored does +not cramp the style of the writers in the least. One letter was so +ardent as to arouse admiration. "This man writes the best love letter I +ever read," said a lieutenant, looking up. "The only trouble is that +he's writing to five girls at once and he uses the same model every +time. Two of the girls live in the same town at that."</p> + +<p>Most of the letters were cheerful. Some courageously so. One man who was +near death from tuberculosis wrote home once a day recounting imaginary +events which had happened outside the walls of his hospital. In his +letters he would send himself on long marches over the hills of France +and describe the woods and meadows and plowed fields as they looked to +him on bright mornings. He described in detail work which he was doing +in bombing and the only complaint he ever made was on a day when he had +coughed himself to such weakness that he could hardly finish his daily +letter. He wrote to his mother<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a> then and asked her to excuse the +briefness of his note. He explained that he was pretty well fagged out +from a long afternoon of bayonet drill.</p> + +<p>The soldiers frequently commented on the kindliness of the French people +and they were also fond of boasting, with perhaps doubtful +justification, that they were already proficient in the French language. +A few were desirous of giving the folk back home a thrill. One man +working as company cook at a port in France, some three or four hundred +miles from the firing line, wrote a weekly letter describing all sorts +of war activities. He made up air raids and heavy bombardments and +fairly tore up the village in which he was living. Curiously enough he +never made himself conspicuous in these actions. According to the +letters he was just there with the rest taking the "strafing" as best he +could.</p> + +<p>The officer who censored his first warlike letter cut out all the +imaginative flights, but two days later the soldier wrote another letter +even more thrilling. He complained that it<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> was difficult to write +because the explosion of big shells nearby made the house rock.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant called him up then and said, "You're writing a lot of +lies home, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the soldier.</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you doing it for?" continued the officer.</p> + +<p>The soldier shifted about in embarrassment and then he said, "Well, you +see, sir, those letters are to my father. He went into the Union army +when he was sixteen and fought all through the last two years of the +war. He lives in a little town in Ohio and the people there call him +'Fighting Bill' on account of what he did in the Civil War. Well, when I +went away to this war he began to go round town and tell everybody that +I was going to do fighting that would make 'em all forget about the +Civil War. He used to say that I came of fighting stock and that I'd +make 'em sit up and take notice. It would be pretty tough for him, sir, +if I had to write home and say that I was cooking down in a town where +you can't even hear the guns."<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a></p> + +<p>"That's all right," said the lieutenant, "but some of the people who've +got sons in this regiment will be doing a lot of worrying long before +they have any need to."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the soldier, "my father don't know what regiment I'm +with. I was transferred when I got over here and the only address he's +got is the military post office number."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say in that case," replied the lieutenant. "It's a +cinch you're not giving away any military information and I can't see +how you're giving, any aid and comfort to the enemy. I guess you can go +on with that battle stuff. Make the bombardments just as hard as you +like, but keep the casualties light."</p> + +<p>In contrast to the attitude of the veteran back in Ohio was a letter +which a captain received from the mother of one of his men.</p> + +<p>"My son is only nineteen," she wrote. "He has never been away from home +before and it breaks my heart that he should be in France. It may sound +foolish but I want to ask you a favor. When he was a little boy I used +to<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> let him come into the kitchen and bake himself little cakes. I think +he would remember some of that still. Can't you use him in the bakery or +the kitchen or some place so he won't have to be put in the firing line +or in the trenches? I will pray for you, captain, and I pray to God we +may have peace for all the world soon."</p> + +<p>The captain read the letter and then he burned it up. "If the rest of +the men in the company heard of that they would jolly the life out of +that boy," he said. But he sat down and wrote to the mother, "Your boy +is well and I think he is enjoying his work. I cannot promise to do what +you ask because your son is one of the best soldiers in my company. We +are all in this together and must share the dangers. I pray with you +that there may be peace and victory soon."</p> + +<p>No complete story of America's part in the war will ever be written +until somebody has made a collection and read thousands of the letters +home. The doughboy is strangely inarticulate. He can't or he won't tell +you how he felt when he first landed in France, or heard<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a> the big guns +or went to the trenches. He is afraid to be caught in a sentimental pose +but this fear leaves him when he writes. In his letters he will pose at +times. This is not uncommon. Many a man who would never think of saving +anything about "saving France" will write about it in rounded sentences. +His deepest and frankest thoughts will come out in letters.</p> + +<p>Of course the censors stand between these makers of history and +posterity. We must wait for our chronicles of the war because of the +censor. The newspaper stories about our troops in France on their +tremendous errand should ring like the chronicle of an old crusade, but +it is hard for the chronicler to bring a tingle when he must write or +cable "Richard the deleted hearted."</p> + +<p>When a censor wants to kill a story he usually says, "Don't you know +that your story may possibly give information to the Germans?" The +correspondent then withdraws his story in confusion. Of course what he +should answer is, "Very well, that story may give information to the +Germans, but it will<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a> also give information to the Americans and just +now that is much more important."</p> + +<p>There are certain military reasons for not naming units and not naming +individuals, but the war is not being fought by the army alone. If the +country is to be enlisted to its fullest capacity it must have names. +The national character cannot be changed in a few months or a year. The +newspapers have brought us up on names. It is too much to expect that +the folk back home can keep up on their toes if the men they know go +away into a great silence as soon as they cross the ocean and are not +heard of again unless their names appear in casualty lists. We can't do +less for our war heroes than we have done for Ty Cobb and Christy +Mathewson and Smokey Joe Wood. That is not only for the sake of the +people back home, but for those at the front as well. They like to know +that people are hearing about them. It is not encouraging to them to +receive papers and learn that "certain units have done something." Just +as soon as possible they want to see the name of their regiment and of D +company and K and F<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> and H. The English name their units after a battle +and so must we. And we must have plenty of names. It helped Ty Cobb not +a little in the business of being Ty that thousands of columns of +newspaper space had built up a tradition behind him. When Joe Wood got +in a hole it is more than probable that he realized that he must and +would get himself out again because he was "Smokey Joe." We must do as +much for private Alexander Brown and corporal James Kelly, and for +sergeants and major generals, too. We are not a folk who thrive on +reticence. It is true that we like to blow our own horn but it must be +remembered that Joshua brought down a great fortress in that manner. The +trumpets are needed for America. We cannot fight our best to the sound +of muffled drums.</p> + +<p>The man abroad who is sending back the stories of the war must deal with +the French censor as well as the American, and that reminds us of +Pétain's mustache. When the great general came to our camp all the +newspaper stories about his visit were sent to the French military +censor. All were allowed to<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> pass in due course except one. The +correspondent concerned went around to find out what was wrong.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said the censor, "but I cannot allow this cable message to +go in its present form. You have spoken of General Pétain's white +mustache. I might stretch a point and allow you to say General Pétain's +gray mustache, but I should much prefer to have you say General Pétain's +blonde mustache."</p> + +<p>"Make it green with small purple spots, if you like," said the +correspondent, "but let my story go."<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> +<small>MARINES</small></h2> + +<p>"They tell me," said a young marine in his best confidential and earnest +manner, "that the Kaiser isn't afraid of the American army, but that he +is afraid of the marines."</p> + +<p>The youngster was hazy as to the source of his information, but he never +doubted that it was accurate. He felt sure that the Kaiser had heard of +the marines. Weren't they "first to fight"? And if he didn't fear them +yet, he would. At least he would when Company D got into action.</p> + +<p>No unit in the American army today has the group consciousness of the +marines. It is difficult to understand just how this has happened. +Everybody knows that once a regiment, or a division, or even an army, +has acquired a tradition, that tradition will live long after every man +who established it has gone.<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> There is, for instance, the Foreign Legion +of the French army. Thousands and thousands of men have poured through +this organization. Sickness and shrapnel, the exigencies of the service +and what not have swept the veterans away again and again, but it is +still the Foreign Legion. Some of its new recruits will be negro +horseboys who have missed their ships at one of the ports through +overprotracted sprees; there will be a gentleman adventurer or two, and +a fine collection of assorted ruffians. But in a month each will be a +legionary.</p> + +<p>I saw an American negro in a village of France who had been a legionary +until a wound had stiffened a knee too much to permit him to engage in +further service. He was a shambling, shuffling, whining, servile negro, +abjectly sure that some kind white gentleman would give him a pair of +shoes, or at least a couple of francs. But he had the Croix de Guerre +and the Medaille Militaire. He had not cringed while he was a legionary.</p> + +<p>The tradition of this organization, however, is based on battle service. +The Legion has<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a> seen all the hardest fighting. The tradition of our +marines rests on something else. They have seen service, of course, but +it has not been considerable. Their group feeling was at first sheerly +defensive. There was a time when the marine was a friend of no one in +the service. He was neither soldier nor sailor. Many of the marine +officers were men who had been unable to get appointments at West Point +or Annapolis, or, having done so, had failed to hold the pace at the +academies. And so the spirit of the officers and the men was that they +would show the army and the navy of just what stuff a marine was made. +And they have. It is true that the army and the navy have ceased long +since to look down upon the marine, but the pressure of handicap has +been maintained among the marines in France just the same.</p> + +<p>It is largely accidental. For instance, when the American troops were +first billeted in the training area the marines were placed at the upper +end of the triangle miles further from the field of divisional maneuvers +than any of their comrades. And so, if<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> Joffre, or Pétain, or +Clemenceau, or Poincaré, or any of the others came to review the first +American expeditionary unit, the marines had to march twenty-two miles +in a day in addition to the ground which they would cover in the review. +Curiously enough, this did not inspire them with a hatred of the +reviews, nor did they complain of their lot. They merely took the +attitude that a few miles more or less made no difference to a marine.</p> + +<p>I remember a story a young officer told me about his first hike with the +marines in France. They had eleven miles to do in the morning and as +many more in the afternoon, after a brief review. The young officer +appeared with a pair of light shoes with a flexible sole.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said the major, "you'd better put on heavier shoes."</p> + +<p>"I think these will suffice, sir," said the young lieutenant. "You see, +they're modeled on the principle of an Indian moccasin—full freedom for +the foot, you know."</p> + +<p>The major grinned. "Come around and see me this evening," he said, "and +tell me what you think of the Indians." The man with the<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> moccasin style +shoe did well enough until the company was in sight of the home village. +Unfortunately, a halt was called at a point where a brook ran close to +the road.</p> + +<p>The sight of the cool stream made the lieutenant's feet burn and ache +worse than ever. "I had just about made up my mind to turn my men over +to the sergeant and limp home, after a crack at the brook," said the +lieutenant, "when I heard one of the men say that he was tired. There +was an old sergeant on him like a flash. He was one of the oldest men in +the regiment. He had never voted the prohibition ticket and rheumatism +was only one of his ailments, but he hopped right on the kid who said he +was tired. 'Where do you get off to be a marine?' he said. 'Why, we +don't call a hike like this marching in the marines. Look here.' And the +old fellow did a series of jig steps to show that the march was nothing +to him.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the young officer, "I didn't turn the men over to the +sergeant and I didn't bathe my feet in the brook. I marched in ahead of +them. You see, I thought to myself,<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a> I guess my feet will drop off all +right before I get there, but I can't very well stop. After all, I'm a +marine."</p> + +<p>Even the Germans did their best to make the marines feel that they were +troops apart from the others. Only one raid was attempted during the +summer and then it was the village of the marines upon which a bomb was +dropped. It injured no one and did ever so much to increase the pride of +marines, who would remark to less fortunate organizations in the +training area: "What do you know about aeroplanes?"</p> + +<p>When it came time to dig practice trenches, other regiments were content +to put in the better part of the morning and afternoon upon the work, +but the marines went to the task of digging in day and night shifts. +There was a Sunday upon which Pershing announced that he would inspect +the American troops in their billets. Through some mistake or other he +arrived in the camp of the marines eight hours behind schedule, but the +men were still standing under arms without a sign of weariness when he +arrived. Historical tradition<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a> lent itself to maintaining the morale of +the marines, for their village was once the site of a famous Roman camp +and one of the men in digging a trench one day came across a segment of +green metal that the marines assert roundly was part of a Roman sword. +In a year or two it will be sure to be identified as Cæsar's.</p> + +<p>The marines were exclusive and original even in the matter of mascots. +The doughboys had dogs and cats and a rather mangy lion for pets but no +other fighting organization in the world has an anteater. The marines +picked Jimmy up at Vera Cruz and he began to prove his worth as a mascot +immediately. He was with them when the city was taken. Later he stopped +off at Hayti and aided in subduing the rebels. He is said to be the only +anteater who has been through two campaigns. Army life has broadened +Jimmy. He has learned to eat hardtack and frogs and cornbeef and pie and +beetles and slum and omelettes. As a matter of fact Jimmy will eat +almost anything but ants. Of course he wouldn't refuse some tempting +morsel simply<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> because of the presence of ants, but he no longer finds +any satisfaction in making an entire meal of the pesky insects. He won't +forage for them. Things like hardtack and pie, Jimmy finds, will stand +still and give a hungry man a chance. Lack of practice has somewhat +impaired the speed of Jimmy and even if he wanted to revert to type it +is probable that he could catch nothing but the older and less edible +ants. Of course he does not want to go back to an ant diet. He feels +that it would be a reflection on the hospitality of his friends, the +marines.</p> + +<p>The marines are equally tactful. In spite of his decline as an +entomologist Jimmy remains by courtesy an anteater and is always so +termed when exhibited to visitors. He has two tricks. He will squeal if +his tail is pulled ever so gently and he will demolish and put out +burning cigars or cigarettes. The latter trick is his favorite. He +stamps out the glowing tobacco with his forepaws and tears the cigar or +cigarette to pieces. The stunt is no longer universally popular. The +marine who dropped a hundred franc note by mistake just<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a> in front of +Jimmy says that teaching tricks to anteaters is all foolishness.</p> + +<p>However, Jimmy has picked up a few stunts on his own account. It is not +thought probable that any marine ever encouraged him in his habit of +biting enlisted men of the regular army and reserve officers. There is a +belief that Jimmy works on broad general principles, and many marines +fear that they will no longer be immune from his teeth if the +distinctive forest green of their organization is abandoned for the +conventional khaki of the rest of the army.</p> + +<p>Some little time before the American troops first went into the +trenches, the marines were scattered into small detachments for police +duty. Many of them have since been brought together again. There is, of +course, a good deal of stuff and nonsense in stories about soldiers +saying, "We want to get a crack at them," and all that, but it is +literally and exactly true that the marines, both officers and men, were +deeply disappointed when they could not go to the front with the others. +Their professional pride was hurt.<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a></p> + +<p>Still they did not whine, but went about their traditional police work +with vigor. I was in a base hospital one day when a doughboy came in all +gory about the head. "What happened to you?" a doctor asked. "A marine +told me to button up my overcoat," said the doughboy, "and I started to +argue with him."</p> + +<p>There are not many American army songs yet, but the marines did not wait +until the war for theirs. Most of it I have forgotten, but one of the +stunning couplets of the chorus is:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poetry"> +<tr><td align="left">If the army or the navy ever gaze on heaven's scenes</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">They will find the streets are guarded by United States Marines.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> +<small>FIELD PIECES AND BIG GUNS</small></h2> + +<p>W<small>AR</small> seemed less remote in the artillery camp than in any other section +of the American training area for the roar of the guns filled the air +every morning and they sounded just as ominous as if they were in +earnest. They were firing in the direction of Germany at that, but it +was a good many score of miles out of range. Just the same the French +were particular about the point. "We always point the guns toward +Germany even in practice if we can," said a French instructing officer, +"it's just as well to start right."</p> + +<p>The camp consisted of a number of brick barracks and the soldiers and +officers were well housed. It was located in wild country, though, where +it was possible to find ranges up to twelve thousand yards. Scrubby +woods covered part of the ranges and the observation<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a> points towered up +a good deal higher than would be safe at the front. We went through the +woods the morning after our arrival and heard a perfect bedlam of fire +from the guns. There was the sharp decisive note of the seventy-five +which speaks quickly and in anger and the more deliberate boom of the +one hundred and fifty-five howitzer. This was a colder note but it was +none the less ominous. It had an air of premeditated wrath about it. The +shell from the seventy-five might get to its destination first but the +one hundred and fifty-five would create more havoc upon arrival. A +sentry warned us to take the left hand road at a fork in the woods and +presently we came upon one of the observation towers. It was crammed +with officers armed with field glasses. Every now and then they would +write things on paper. They seemed like so many reporters at a baseball +game recording hits and errors. When we got to the top of the tower we +found that large maps were part of the equipment as well as field +glasses. These were wonderfully accurate maps with every prominent tree +and church spire and<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> house top indicated. The officers were ranging +from the maps. The French theory of artillery work was not new to the +American officers, but this was almost the first chance they had ever +had to work it out for we have no maps in America suitable for ranging.</p> + +<p>According to theory the battery should first fire short and then long +and then split the bracket and land upon the target or thereabouts. The +men had not been working long and they were still a little more +proficient in firing short or long than in splitting the bracket. Later +the American artillery gave a very good account of itself at the school. +The French instructors told one particular battery that they were able +to fire the seventy-five faster than it had ever been fired in France +before. Perhaps there was just a shade of the over-statement of French +politeness in that, but it was without doubt an excellent battery. In +the lulls between fire could be heard the drone of aeroplanes for a +number of officers were flying to learn the principles of aerial +observation in its uses for fire control. Turning around we could also +see a large captive balloon.<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a> All the junior officers were allowed to +express a preference as to which branch of artillery work they preferred +and, although observation is the most dangerous of all, fully +seventy-five per cent, of the men indicated it as their choice.</p> + +<p>Some American officers in other sections of the training area came to +the conclusion in time that we should go to the English for instruction +in some of the phases of modern warfare. We did in fact turn to the +English finally for bayonet instruction and a certain number of officers +thought that the English would also be useful to us in bombing, but I +never heard any question raised but that we must continue to go to the +French for instruction in field artillery until such time as we had +schools of our own.</p> + +<p>The difference in language made occasional difficulties of course. "It +took us a couple of days to realize that when our instructor spoke of a +'rangerrang' he meant a 'range error,'" said one American officer, "but +now we get on famously."</p> + +<p>We left the men in the tower with their<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a> maps and their glasses and went +down to see the guns. Our guide took us straight in front of the one +hundred and fifty-fives while they were firing, which was safe enough as +they were tossing their shells high in the air. It was better fun, +though, to stand behind these big howitzers, for by fixing your eye on a +point well up over the horizon it was possible to see the projectile in +flight. The shell did not seem to be moving very fast once it was +located. It looked for all the world as if the gunners were batting out +flies and this was the baseball which was sailing along.</p> + +<p>The French officer who was showing us about said that he could see the +projectile as it left the mouth of the gun, but though the rest of us +tried, we could see nothing but the flash. Later we stood behind the +seventy-fives but since their trajectory is so much lower it is not +possible to see the shell which they fire. They seemed to make more +noise than the bigger guns. Fortunately it is no longer considered bad +form to stick your fingers in your ears when a gun goes off. Most of the +officers and men in this particular battery were as<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a> careful to shut out +the sound of the cannon as schoolgirls at a Civil War play. Not only did +they stuff their fingers in their ears, but they stood up on their toes +to lessen the vibration.</p> + +<p>Guns have changed, however, since Civil War days. They are no longer +drab. Camouflage has attended to that. The guns we saw were streaked +with red and blue and yellow and orange. They were giddy enough to have +stood as columns in the Purple Poodle or any of the Greenwich Village +restaurants.</p> + +<p>Before we left the camp we met Major General Peyton C. March, the new +chief of staff, who was then an artillery officer. We agreed that he was +an able soldier because he told us that he did not believe in +censorship. Regarding one slight phase of the training he bound us to +secrecy, but for the rest he said: "You may say anything you like about +my camp, good or bad. I believe that free and full reports in the +American newspapers are a good thing for our army."</p> + +<p>We traveled many miles from the field gun school before we came to the +camp of the heavies. This, too, was a French school which<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a> had been +partially taken over by the Americans. The work was less interesting +here, for the men were not firing the guns yet, but studying their +mechanism and going through the motions of putting them in action. Many +of the officers attached to the heavies were coast artillerymen and +there was a liberal sprinkling of young reserve officers who had come +over after a little preliminary training at Fortress Monroe. The General +in charge of the camp told us that these new officers would soon be as +good as the best because the most important requirement was a technical +education and these men had all had college scientific training or its +equivalent. Just then they were all at school again cramming with all +the available textbooks about French big guns. They did not need to +depend on textbooks alone, for the camp contained types of most styles +of French artillery.</p> + +<p>The pride of the contingent was a monster mounted on railroad trucks. It +fired a projectile weighing 1800 pounds. After the French custom, the +big howitzer had been honored<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> by a name. "Mosquito" was painted on the +carriage in huge green letters.</p> + +<p>"We call her mosquito," explained a French officer, "because she +stings."</p> + +<p>"Mosquito" had buzzed no less than three hundred times at Verdun, but +she had a number of stings left. The Americans detailed with the gun +were loud in its praises and asserted that it was the finest weapon in +the world. There were other guns, though, which had their partisans. +Some swore by "Petite Lulu," a squat howitzer, which could throw a shell +high enough to clear Pike's Peak and still have something to spare. +There were champions also of "Gaby," a long nosed creature which +outranged all the rest. Marcel could talk a little faster than any gun +in camp, but her words carried less weight.</p> + +<p>All the menial work about the camp was done by German prisoners. I was +walking through the camp one day when I saw a little tow-headed soldier +sitting at the doorstep of his barracks watching a file of Germans +shuffle by. They were men who had started to war<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a> with guns on their +shoulders, but now they carried brooms.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever speak to the German prisoners?" I asked the soldier.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said the youngster; "some of them speak English, and they say +'Hello' to me and I say 'Hello' back to them. I feel sorry for them."</p> + +<p>The little soldier looked at the shabby procession again and then he +leaned over to me confidentially and said with great earnestness as if +he had made up the phrase on the spot: "You know I have no quarrel with +the German people."</p> + +<p>When we got home after our trips to the artillery camps we found an old +man in a French uniform eagerly waiting to see us. He told us that he +was an American, and more than that, a Californian. His name was George +La Messneger and he was sixty-seven years old. He was French by birth +and had fought in the Franco-Prussian war, but the next year he went to +California and lived in Los Angeles until the outbreak of the great war. +Although more than sixty, La Messneger<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> was accepted by a French +recruiting officer and he was in Verdun two weeks after he arrived in +France. Three days later he was wounded and when we met him he had added +to his adventures by winning a promotion to sous-lieutenant and gaining +the croix de guerre and the medaille militaire.</p> + +<p>Old George came to be a frequent visitor, but though we urged him on he +would never tell us much about the war. He wanted to talk about +California.</p> + +<p>"I tell the men in my regiment," George would begin, "that out in Los +Angeles we cut alfalfa five times a year, but they won't believe me."</p> + +<p>Gently we tried to lead George back to the war and his experiences. "How +did you get the military medal, lieutenant?" somebody asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was at Verdun," replied the old man.</p> + +<p>"It must have been pretty hot up there," said another correspondent.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said George, and he began to muse. We imagined that he was +thinking of those<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> hot days in February when all the guns, big and +little, were turned loose.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said George, "it was pretty hot," and we drew our chairs closer. +"You know," continued the old man, "a lot of people will tell you that +Los Angeles is hot. Don't pay any attention to them. I've lived there +forty years, and I've slept with a blanket pretty much all the time. The +nights are always cool."</p> + +<p>I had heard George before and I knew that he was gone for the evening +now. As I tiptoed out of the room the old soldier in French horizon blue +was just warming up to his favorite topic. "San Francisco's nothing," +said George, dismissing the city with as much scorn as if it had been +Berlin or Munich. He talked with such vehemence that all his medals +rattled.</p> + +<p>"We're nearer the Panama Canal," said George, "we're nearer China and +Japan, and as for harbors——"</p> + +<p>But just then the door closed.<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><br /> +<small>OUR AVIATORS AND A FEW OTHERS</small></h2> + +<p>A<small>T</small> first the ace is low. Our young aviators who will be among the most +romantic heroes of them all begin humbly on the ground. The American +army now has the largest flying field in France for its very own, but +during summer and early autumn many of our men trained in the French +schools. There his groundling days try the aviator's dignity. He must +hop before he can fly and perhaps "hop" is too dignified a word. When we +visited one of the biggest schools, all the new pupils were practicing +in a ridiculous clipped wing Bleriot called a penguin. This machine was +a groundhog which scurried over the earth at a speed of twenty or thirty +miles an hour. It never left the grass tops and yet it provided a +certain amount of excitement for its pilot, or maybe rider would be +better.<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a></p> + +<p>The favorite trick of the penguin is to turn suddenly in a short half +circle and collapse on its side. It takes a good deal of skill to keep +it straight and when the aviator has learned that much he is allowed to +make a trip in a machine which leaps a little in the air every now and +then, only to flop to earth again. Then he is ready to fly a Bleriot, +though, of course, his first trips are made as a passenger. Very little +time is spent in flying. Staying up in the air is no great trick. It's +the coming down which gives the trouble. And so the student is eternally +trying landings. He smashes a good many machines and here the French +show their keen realization of the mental factor in flying.</p> + +<p>"I made a bad landing one day," an American student named Billy Parker +told me, "and smashed my machine up good and proper. I thought I'd +killed myself, but they dragged me out from under the junk, picked the +pieces of wood and aluminum out of my head, stuffed some cotton into my +nose to check the bleeding and in fifteen minutes they had a new machine +out and had me up in the air again."<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a></p> + +<p>Parker said he felt a bit queer when he got up in the air again. "I had +a sort of feeling that I belonged down on the ground and not up there," +he said. "That was peculiar because usually the air feels very stable +and friendly. You hate to come down, but this time I was anxious to get +back and after circling the field once I came down. My landing was all +right, too, and since then I've never had that scared feeling about the +air."</p> + +<p>The French theory is that the mistake must be corrected immediately. The +man who has had a smash-up is apt to get air shy if he has a chance to +brood over his mishap for a day or two.</p> + +<p>The last test of the preliminary school is a thirty mile flight with +three landings. After he has done that the student goes to Pau for his +test in acrobatics. The chief stunt set for him here is a vrille. The +student is required to put his machine into a spin at a height of about +8500 feet and bring it out again. The trick is not particularly +difficult if the man keeps his head, but the tendency is to turn on the +power which only accelerates the fall and some are<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> killed at Pau. My +friend caught malaria as soon as he got there and was allowed to take +things easily for a week. Finally his test was set for Wednesday. On +Monday morning the man who slept in the cot to his left went out for his +test and was killed and on Tuesday the man from the right hand cot was +killed. Death came very close to the young American. He and a French +student arrived at the training ground at about the same time. Two +machines were ready. The instructor hesitated a second and then assigned +the American to the machine at the right. A few minutes later the +Frenchman was killed when a wing came off his machine as soon as he +began his vrille. Fortunately Parker did not know that until after he +had passed his own test. He saw one other man killed before he left Pau +and that horrified him more than the accident on the morning of his +trial.</p> + +<p>"The judge who decided whether you passed your test was a little +Frenchman with a monocle," he said. "He sat in a rocking chair at the +edge of the field and you had to do the vrille straight in front of him +or it didn't count.<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a> He simply wouldn't turn to look at a flyer. I was +standing beside him when one fellow got rattled in the middle of a +vrille and put his power on. Even at that he almost lifted his machine +out but she came down too fast for him. There was a big smash-up and +people came running out to the wreck. They sent for a doctor and then +for a priest, but the terrible little man never moved from his chair. +'You see,' he cried to me, 'he was stupid! stupid!' This flying test had +come to seem nothing more than an examination bluebook to him. A fellow +passed or he flunked and that was all there was to it."</p> + +<p>Luck plays its biggest part in a flier's early days at the front. He has +a lot to learn after he gets there, but the French do not nurse him +along much. He has to take his chances. It may be that he will get in +some very tight place before he has learned the fine points and a future +star will be lost at the outset of his career. On the other hand he may +come up against German fliers as green as himself and gradually gain a +technique before he is called upon to face an enemy ace or a superior +combination<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a> of planes. At the front as in the schools the French pay +keen attention to the mental state of the fliers.</p> + +<p>"There was always champagne at mess and they kept the graphophone +playing all through dinner any night a man from our squadron didn't come +back," an aviator said to me. "One afternoon we lost two men and before +dinner they took a leaf out of the table. Our commander didn't want us +to notice any empty seats or the extra space."</p> + +<p>It is difficult to say which nation has the most daring aviators, but +that honor probably belongs to the English. I asked a Frenchman about it +and he said: "The English do most of the things you would call stunts. +There was one, for instance, that made a landing on a German aviation +field and after firing a few rounds at the aerodrome flew away again. +That was a stunt. But we think the English are fools with their +sportsmanship and all that. It doesn't work now. We look at it a little +differently. We cannot take fool chances. If you take a fool chance you +are very likely to get killed. That is not nice, of<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a> course. We do not +like to be killed, but more than that, it is one less man for France. We +must wait until there is a fair show."</p> + +<p>"And when is that?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"When there are not more than four Germans against you," said the +careful Frenchman.</p> + +<p>The warlike spirit of the French aviators extended even to the servants +at the preliminary school which we visited. The Americans there were all +quartered in one big room and their general man of all work was a little +Annamite from French-Indo-China. Hy seemed the most peaceful member of a +peace-loving race as he moved about the barracks just before dawn every +morning waking up the students with a smiling "Bon jour" and an equally +good-natured "Café." One day he had a holiday and after borrowing a +uniform he went to a photographer's in the nearest town. From the +photographer he borrowed a rifle, a cutlass and a pistol. He thrust the +cutlass into his belt and shouldered the other two weapons. After he had +assumed a fighting face the picture was taken.<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a></p> + +<p>The next day Hy varied the routine. He began with "Bon jour" as usual, +but before he said "Café" he drew from behind his back the photograph, +and pointing to it proudly, exclaimed, "brave soldat."</p> + +<p>We went from the French school to the big field where the American camp +was under construction. The bulk of the work was being done by German +prisoners. One of these, a sergeant, had been a well known architect in +Munich. The American workers consulted him now and then in regard to +some building problem and he always gave them good advice. He took +almost a professional pride in the growing buildings even if they were +designed to house the men who will one day be the eyes of the American +army. We asked another prisoner how he got along with the Americans and +he replied: "Oh, some of them aren't half bad." A third spoke to us in +meager broken English, although he said that he had lived five years in +Buffalo. "Are you going back to Germany after the war?" we asked him. +"Nein," he replied decisively, "Chicago."</p> + +<p>Most prisoners professed to be confident<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> that Germany would win the war +and they all based their faith on the submarine. As we started to go the +man from Buffalo suddenly held out his hand and said: "So long." Several +of the correspondents shook hands with him much to the horror of a young +American in the French flying corps who accompanied us.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't do that," he explained. "Any Frenchman who saw you do that +would be very much shocked."</p> + +<p>I remembered then that when I saw German prisoners in any of the large +towns the French inhabitants took great pains to ignore them. I never +heard French people jeer at their prisoners. Their attitude was one of +complete aloofness. Once I saw prisoners in a big railroad station and +the crowds swept by on either side without a glance as if these men from +Prussia had been so many trunks or trucks or benches.</p> + +<p>If the young Americans at the school had not been so busy learning the +business of flying they could have formed a cracker jack nine<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a> or eight +or eleven, as the squad included some of the most famous of our college +athletes.</p> + +<p>We also visited an English aerodrome which was not far from our +headquarters. This was a camp from which planes started for raids into +Germany. The men who were carrying on this work were all youngsters. I +saw no one who seemed to be more than twenty-five. Just the day before +we arrived the Germans had discovered their whereabouts and had raided +the hangars. One man had been killed and two planes wrecked. Machine gun +bullets had left holes in all the buildings about the place. The English +officer smiled when we looked about. "Oh, yes," he said, "the Hun was +over last night and gave us a bit of a bounce." His slang was fluent but +puzzling. He was explaining why he and his fellow aviators flew at a +certain height on raids. "You see," he said, "the Hun can't get his hate +up as far as that."</p> + +<p>The bombing machines of the squadron were huge, powerful planes, but +they all had pet names painted upon them such as "Bessie" and "Baby" and +"Winifred" which had been twice to Stuttgart. These English fliers were +a<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a> quiet, reticent crowd who became fearfully embarrassed if anybody +tried to draw them out on the subject of their exploits. One of them +went over to an American Red Cross hospital nearby a few days after our +visit and played bridge with three American doctors there. He had been a +rather frequent visitor and a keen and eager player, so they were +somewhat surprised when he told them at nine o'clock that he would have +to go. He was three francs behind and started to fumble around in his +pockets to find the change. "Oh, never mind," said one of the doctors. +"Some other night will do. You'll be over here again pretty soon, I +hope."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said the young Englishman, "I'd rather pay up now. Sorry to +toddle off so early. Beastly nuisance, you know, but I've got to go over +and bomb Metz to-night."</p> + +<p>Much more would be heard of the flying exploits of the English if their +individual reticence were not combined with a governmental policy of not +announcing the names of the fliers who bring down enemy planes. +Unfortunately, the American army seems prepared<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a> to follow this example. +One of the high officers in the American air service in France said that +he did not intend to treat aviators like prima donnas. He added that he +thought it was a big mistake to advertise aces. However, the Germans +play up their star airmen in the newspapers and on the moving picture +screen and it must be admitted that they have not made many mistakes +from a purely military point of view.</p> + +<p>Inevitably, however, the status of the flier is changing. Nobody regrets +this more than the aviators of France. The French army used to have a +saying, "all aviators are a little crazy," and nobody believed it so +thoroughly as the aviators. They took great pride in being unlike other +people in a war which was all cramped up into schedule. An aviator got +up when he felt like it and flew when the mood was on. If he felt +depressed, or unlucky, or out of sorts, he rolled over and went to sleep +again. Nobody said anything about it. When he fought the battle was a +duel with an opponent who was also a knight and sportsman although a +Boche.<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a></p> + +<p>But there was no keeping efficiency out of the air. The German brought +it there. He discovered that two planes were better than one and three +even better. He introduced teamwork and the lone French errants of the +air began to be picked off by groups of Germans who would send one +machine after another diving down on a single foe. The Flying Circus and +other aerial teams of the Germans have not only driven chivalry from the +air, but they have taken a good deal of the joy out of flying. Very +reluctantly the French have adopted squadron flying and the airman now +finds himself obeying commands just as if he were an infantryman or an +artillerist. Even the civilian population has begun to show that it +realized the change in the status of the aviator. There was, for +instance, poor Navarre, the finest flier in the army, who was sent to +prison because he came to Paris on a spree and ran down three gendarmes +with his racing auto. French aviators cannot see the sense of punishing +Navarre. I only heard one aviator who had any excuse to offer for the +civilian authorities.<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a></p> + +<p>"After all," he said, "they showed a little judgment. They did not +arrest Navarre until he had run down three gendarmes."</p> + +<p>Although many men in the army have longer lists of fallen Germans to +their credit, no Frenchman has ever flown with the grace and skill of +Navarre. The great Guynemer was only a fair flier and owed his success +to his skill as a gunner. But Navarre was master of all the tricks. Upon +one occasion he bet a companion that he could make a landing on an army +blanket. The blanket was duly fastened in the middle of the field and +away flew the aviator. His preliminary calculation was just a bit off +and at the last minute he nosed sharply down and wrecked the machine. +But he hit the blanket and won the bet.</p> + +<p>Next to Germany, America has done most to take romance out of the air, +so the Frenchmen say. The American air student attends lectures and +learns about meteorology and physics. He learns how to take a motor +apart and put it together again. In fact, he is versed in all the theory +of flying long before he is allowed to venture in the air. Of course +this is<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a> the best system. It would be the system of any nation which had +the opportunity of taking its time, yet the scholarly approach cannot +fail to dim adventure a little bit. Launcelot would have been a somewhat +less dashing knight if he had begun his training in chivalry by learning +the minimum number of foot pounds necessary to unhorse an opponent or +the relative resilience of chain mail and armor. Yet not all the +training in the world can take the stunt spirit out of the young +American aviator. One who shipped as a passenger with a Frenchman bound +for a bombing raid, paid for his passage by crawling out along the +fuselage of the machine to release a bomb which had stuck. But it was a +little incident back of the lines which gave me the best insight into +the character of the American aviator. I know a young aviator of +twenty-five who is already a major and the commander of a squadron. He +wasn't particularly old for his years, either. I remember he told us +with great glee how he and another young aviation officer had nailed the +purser in his cabin one night during the trip across. Yet he could be +stern upon occasion.<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> He was walking along the field one day when he saw +a plane looping. He was surprised because the French instructor attached +to the squadron had told them that the type of machine which they were +using would not do the loop the loop. It didn't have sufficient power, +he said, nor would it stand the strain.</p> + +<p>"It made five loops," said the major in telling the story, "and they +were dandies, too, as good as I ever saw. I thought it was the +Frenchman, of course, but I asked somebody and he said, 'No, it's +Harry.' When he came down I bawled him out. 'You were told not to do +that, weren't you?' I asked him. He said, 'Yes, sir.' 'Well, what did +you do it for?' I asked him. 'I guess it was because the Frenchman told +me it was impossible,' he said. I told him that he would have to turn +his machine over to another man and that other disciplinary measures +would be applied. He's in disgrace still and I suppose I've got to keep +it up for a while. That's all right, good discipline and all that sort +of thing, you know, but there's one thing I can't take away from him, +and nobody<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> else can. He's the only man in France that ever looped that +type of machine. He did it. By golly, I envy him, but I don't dare let +him know it."<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><br /> +<small>HOSPITALS AND ENGINEERS</small></h2> + +<p>S<small>OME</small> of the compliments the mannerly French poured out upon the army +left the Americans feeling that they didn't quite deserve them. Others +they could take standing. Well to the front of the second lot were all +the good words for the medical corps. A leading writer for a big +Parisian afternoon paper took the first three columns of his first page +to say with undisguised emotion that the French government not merely +could, with profit, but should and must pattern after the American Army +Medical Service.</p> + +<p>One good army hospital in France is like another and so let it be the +New York Post Graduate unit which was picked at random for the purpose +of a visit. We straggled off the train with two old peasant women whose +absorbed faces under their peaked white caps<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> did not encourage us to +ask our way of them, and one poilu, bent under the astonishing +miscellany of the home-going French soldier. He lost his chance to +escape us by eyeing us with frank if friendly curiosity. Could he direct +us to the American Army Hospital, we asked, and he wrinkled his weather +worn nose. No, he hadn't been home since the Americans had come to war, +but, of course, there was only one building in town big enough and new +enough to be used by the Americans. If we should turn to the left and +then to the right and then to the left again we would come to the school +and there he thought we would find the Americans. We did. To the far end +of the little town we trudged till we came to a low stone building, gray +and white, of good stout masonry. We knew it was the American hospital +because over the arched entrance there hung a "bannière etoilée."</p> + +<p>We neared the entrance to the tune of some trumpet blasts, not very well +played, and we peered from arch to inner court yard just in time to see +a swarm of khaki-half-clad soldiers running out from barracks. By the +time they<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a> reached the mess door they were khaki-clad. The officer who +came to take us about explained that on Sunday mornings everybody slept +late and dressed on the way to breakfast and that discipline was better +on week days. Then he told us that of all the privates in that unit not +one had ever been a soldier before. They had been picked for medical +service first and military service at such time as the officers had +learned enough to teach it to them. I remember later that one of the +soldiers objected privately to being drilled by a dentist.</p> + +<p>Nine-tenths of the men were fresh out of college, the officer told us, +and half the other tenth were freshmen or sophomores. Many of the +enlisted men, we were told, had left incomes in the tens of thousands +and a few in the hundreds of thousands. The enlisted personnel included +one matinee idol, one young New York dramatic critic, two middling well +known young authors, a composer of good but saleable music, and a golfer +who gets two in the national rating.</p> + +<p>The wards were not very different from<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> those of a New York hospital +back home, except that they housed a strange mixture of patients. About +half were American soldiers and the rest were civilians from the country +round about. The French civilians were convinced that though the +American doctors might cure them with their marvelous medicines and +speckless cleanliness they would surely kill them with air. This +particular base hospital was fulfilling two functions for the civilian +population. It was seeking to take out adenoids and let in air. A great +New York specialist was attending to the adenoids and making progress. +It was not always possible to convince the patient that it would do him +any good to have his adenoids removed, but if the operation gave the +kind American doctor any pleasure he was willing to let him go ahead. +The air campaign was making slower progress. Dislike of air is centuries +old in France and it has become an instinct with the race. I rode in a +railroad car with a French aviator on a balmy day of early autumn and +his first act upon entering the compartment was to close both windows.<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> +Everybody in this part of France has his bed placed inside a closet and +at night he closes the doors.</p> + +<p>Worst of all were the extra precautions against air which the French +peasants took in case of illness. The young French doctors were at the +front and the old men who remained always began the treatment of a case +by advising the patient's relatives to close all the windows and start a +fire.</p> + +<p>At the call of sick babies and old folk of the countryside came +aristocrats of the New York medical profession whose fees at home would +have bought the house in which the patient lived. Later, of course, the +doctors of the hospital will be more rushed by the necessities of the +soldiers.</p> + +<p>"This is hardly more than a germ of what we plan," a doctor explained to +us. "Do you see those tents?" He pointed across a small field. "Those +are American engineers and they're going to do nothing for the next few +months but build additions to this hospital. Every time I go 'way for a +day I come back to find that they've added a thousand beds to<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a> the +capacity we're planning for. We will extend all the way across the +fields over to that road before they're done with us." He spoke in a +joyful voice as if nothing in the world was quite so inspiring as a huge +hospital filled with patients. That was the professional touch. I +remember the story one of the doctors told us about a young surgeon who +was sent up to the French front to help handle the cases after a big +drive. One of his first patients was a German prisoner who had been shot +just above the elbow and bayoneted in the stomach. The doctor had no +great trouble with the elbow and he did what he could for the abdominal +wound.</p> + +<p>"I could save that man all right if it wasn't for that bayonet wound," +he said to another American doctor close at hand, and then he added in a +reproachful voice as he pointed to the gash: "That's an awful dangerous +place to stab a man."</p> + +<p>There were no wounded at the hospital at the time of our visit, but some +of the soldiers in the medical ward were very sick. There was one boy +there, who has since mended and gone away, whose recovery seemed +hopeless. The<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> doctor in charge saw that something was troubling the +young soldier and so he came to him and told him that he was aggravating +his illness by this worry or desire.</p> + +<p>"Whatever this thing is, you must tell me," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'm going to die?" the boy asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the doctor answered a little evasively.</p> + +<p>"I knew I was pretty sick," said the boy, catching the evasiveness of +the doctor's tone, "and if you think I'm going to die and won't ever get +back home again, there's just one thing I want to ask you to do for me."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you fix it up for me just once to have ham and eggs and apple +pie for breakfast?"</p> + +<p>The most important thing in the case of all the sick men was to keep +them from brooding about home. The doctors made a point of getting +around and talking to the patients to cheer them up. One of them +complained of homesickness.<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor, "I suppose we all have people back there that we +miss."</p> + +<p>"You can just bet I do," said the sick soldier, "I've got the finest +wife in the world in Des Moines and two children and a Ford."</p> + +<p>The health of the staff was excellent, but sometimes they felt homesick, +too. The enlisted men gave a show the night I was at the hospital and +during the course of the performance everybody wept or at least got +moist eyed because the play was about New York. It was laid in a year as +nameless as the place where the hospital is located. All the program +said was: "The bachelor apartments of Schuyler Van Allen on a fine June +night a few weeks after the end of the war." Schuyler had just come back +from Europe and he found his apartment with everything just as it was on +the night he had sailed for France. There was the daily paper he had +left behind with the date May 8, 1917, and he looked at the old sheet +and mused as he read some of the headlines:</p> + +<p>"Kaiser Calls on Troops to Stand Firm," read Schuyler. "The Kaiser," he +said to himself,<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> and then he added: "I wonder whatever became of him."</p> + +<p>The audience laughed at that, but in a moment the doctors and the nurses +and the patients who weren't sick enough to stay in bed wept. It was all +because Schuyler looked out of the window and said to his friend: "Oh, +it's great to be on Fifth Avenue again. I want to see it in every light +and at every hour of the day. It was fairly blazing tonight with the +same old hurrying crowd jamming the traffic at Forty-second Street and +the same old mob pushing and shoving its way into the Grand Central +subway station." The mention of the subway was too much for the +audience. By this time the nurse who sat in front of me was dabbing +violently at her eyes with her pocket handkerchief. She was breaking my +heart and I leaned forward and asked: "What part of New York do you come +from?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't ever in New York," she said. "I come from Lima, Ohio."</p> + +<p>Like the medical corps, the engineers were peculiarly American and +peculiarly efficient as well. We first came upon them when we<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a> saw a +tall, stringy man looking out of the window of a little locomotive which +pulled a train up to a point at the French front. We thought he was an +American because his jaws were moving back and forth slowly and +meditatively. Inquiry brought confirmation.</p> + +<p>"Sure, I'm an American," said the man in the blue jumpers. "I guess I've +kicked a hobo off the train for every telegraph pole back on the old +Rock Island, but this is the toughest railroading job I've struck yet."</p> + +<p>The man in the locomotive was a member of an American regiment of +railroad engineers which had taken over an important military road. They +had the honor to be the first American troops at the French front who +came under fire. The engineers were willing to admit that while washouts +and spreading rails were old stories to them, they did get a bit of a +thrill the first time they found their tracks torn up by shellfire. But +the aeroplanes were worse.</p> + +<p>"One night," said our friend the engineer, "there was one of those +flying machines just followed along with us and every time we fired<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a> the +engine and the sparks flew up she'd drop a bomb on us or shoot at us +with her machine gun. We tried to hit it up a bit, but she kept right up +with us. They didn't hit us, but once they got so rough we just slowed +down and laid under the engine for a spell until they decided to quit +picking on us."</p> + +<p>This regiment of railroad engineers was the huskiest outfit I saw in +France. It was carefully selected from the railroads running into +Chicago. Of the men originally selected only about one-seventh were +taken because the railroads found so many men who were eager to go. One +company boasted one hundred and twenty-five six-footers and all were +two-fisted fighters. The discipline of the regiment, of course, was not +that of an infantry unit. I watched an animated discussion between a +captain and his men as to where some material should be placed when the +regiment first moved into a new camp.</p> + +<p>"You've got the wrong dope about that, Bill," said a private to his +captain very earnestly. The officer looked at him severely.</p> + +<p>"I've told you before about this discipline<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> business, Harry," he said. +"Any time you want to kick about my orders you call me mister." It is +hard for a railroad man to realize that a couple of silver bars have +changed a yardmaster into a captain.</p> + +<p>The regiment set great store by the number thirteen. It was put into +service on a Friday the thirteenth and it left its American base in two +sections of thirteen cars each. The locomotives' headlight numbers each +totaled thirteen and the thirteenth of a month found the regiment +arriving at its European port of entry. The thirteenth of the next month +found the regiment starting for its French base and when the camp was +reached a group of interpreters was waiting.</p> + +<p>"How many are you?" asked the colonel.</p> + +<p>"Myself and twelve companions," replied one of the Frenchmen.</p> + +<p>The regiment will never forget the first night at its French base. It +arrived at midnight but crowds thronged the darkened streets and gave +the big Americans an enthusiastic greeting, although it was forbidden to +talk above undertones. Since they could not hurrah<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a> for the soldiers, +the villagers hugged them, and from black windows roses were pelted on +shadowy figures who tramped up the street to the low rumble of a muffled +band.</p> + +<p>"Great people, these French, so demonstrative," said a captain, who was +once a trainmaster in a Texas town.</p> + +<p>"I was in the theater the other night," he said, "and a couple of +performers on the stage started to sing 'Madelon.' Well, I'd heard it +before and I knew the chorus, so when they got that far along I joined +in. Well, there was a young girl sitting next me and when she saw that I +knew the song she just threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.</p> + +<p>"And now," said the captain, "everybody in the regiment's after me to +teach 'em that song."<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><br /> +<small>WE VISIT THE FRENCH ARMY</small></h2> + +<p>"The Germans haven't thrown a single shell into Rheims today," said our +conducting officer apologetically. "Yesterday," he continued more +cheerfully, "they sent more than five hundred big ones and they wounded +two of my officers."</p> + +<p>We left the little inn at the fringe of the town and rode into the +square in front of the cathedral. At the door the officer turned us over +to the curator. The old man led us up the aisle to a point not far from +the altar. Here he stopped, and pointing to a great shell hole in the +floor said: "On this spot in the year 496 Clovis, the King of the +Franks, was baptized by the blessed St. Remi with oil which was brought +from heaven in a holy flask by a dove."</p> + +<p>Something flew over the cathedral just then, but we knew it was not a +dove. It whistled<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> like a strong wind, and presently the shop of a +confectioner some ten blocks away folded up with a ripping, smashing +sound. Clovis, with his fourteen centuries wrapped about him, was safe +enough. He had quit the spot in time. But a younger man ducked. The old +guide did not even look up.</p> + +<p>"The first stone of the present cathedral was laid in May, 1212, by the +Archbishop Alberic de Humbert," he said.</p> + +<p>Another big shell tore the sky, and this time the smash was nearer. It +seemed certainly no more than nine blocks away. The young man began to +calculate. He figured that he was seven centuries down, while the +Germans had nine blocks to go. That was something, but the guide failed +to keep up his pace through the centuries. There were no more happy +hiatuses.</p> + +<p>"Scholars dispute," he continued, "as to who was the architect of the +cathedral. Some say it was designed by Robert de Coucy; others name +Bernard de Soissons, but certain authorities hold to Gauthier de Reims +and Jean d'Orbais." Two more shells crossed the cathedral.<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a> The +controversy seemed regrettable and the young man shifted constantly from +foot to foot. He appeared to feel that there was less chance of being +hit if he were on the wing, so to speak.</p> + +<p>"One or two have named Jean Loups," said the guide, but he shook his +head even as he mentioned him. It was evident that he had no patience +with Loups or his backers. Indeed, the heresy threw him off his stride, +and the next smash which came during the lull was more significant than +any of the others. The crash was the peculiarly disagreeable one which +occurs when a large shell strikes a small hardware store. Even the guide +noticed this shell. It reminded him of the war.</p> + +<p>"Since April," he said, "the Germans have been bombarding Rheims with +naval guns. All the shells which they fire now are .320 or larger. They +fire about 150 shells a day at the city, mostly in the afternoon, and +they usually aim at the cathedral or some place near by."</p> + +<p>The young man noted by his watch that it was just half-past one.<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p> + +<p>"A week ago the Germans fired a .320 shell through the roof, but it did +not explode. I will show it to you, but first I must ask you to touch +nothing, not even a piece of glass, for we want to put everything back +again that we can after the war."</p> + +<p>On the floor there was evidence that some patient hand had made a +beginning of seeking to fit together in proper sequence all the +available tiny glass fragments from the shattered rose windows. It was a +pitiful jigsaw puzzle, which would not work. The curator stepped briskly +up the nave, and at the end of a hundred paces he stopped.</p> + +<p>"This is the most dangerous portion of the cathedral," he explained. +"Most of the big shells have come in here." And he pointed to three +great holes in the ceiling. Then he showed us the monstrous shell which +had not exploded and the fragments of others which had. Down toward the +west end of town fresh fragments were being made. Each hole in the +cathedral roof sounded a different note as the shells raced overhead. +But the old curator was musing again. He had forgotten the war, even<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> +though the smashed and twisted bits of iron and stone from yesterday's +clean hit lay at his feet.</p> + +<p>"The first stone of the present cathedral was laid in May, 1212, by the +Archbishop Alberic de Humbert," he said. "Alberic gave all the money he +could gather and the chapter presented its treasury, and all about the +clergy appealed for funds in the name of God. Kings of France and mighty +lords made contributions, and each year there was a great pilgrimage, +headed by the image of the Blessed Virgin, through all the villages. And +the building grew and sculptors from all parts of France came and +embellished it and in 1430 it was finished. You see, gentlemen," he +said, "it took more than two hundred years to build our cathedral."</p> + +<p>We left the cathedral then and paused for a minute in the square before +the statue of Jeanne d'Arc, who brought her king to Rheims and had him +crowned. In some parts of France devout persons speak of the Jeanne +statue in Rheims as a miracle because, although the cathedral has been +scarred and shattered<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a> and every building round the square badly +damaged, the statue of Jeanne is untouched. I looked closely and found +the miracle was not perfect. A tiny bit of the scabbard of Jeanne had +been snipped off by a flying shrapnel fragment, but the sword of Jeanne, +which is raised high above her head, has not a nick in it.</p> + +<p>Crossing the square we went into the office of <i>L'Eclaireur de l'Est</i>. +This daily newspaper has no humorous column, no editorials, no sporting +page and no dramatic reviews, and yet is probably the most difficult +journal in the world to edit. The chief reportorial task of the staff of +<i>L'Eclaireur</i> is to count the number of shells which fall into the city +each day. That doesn't sound hard. The reporter can hear them all from +his desk and many he can see, for the cathedral just across the street +is still the favorite target of the Germans. Sometimes the reporter does +not have to look so far. The office of <i>L'Eclaireur</i> has been hit eleven +times during the bombardment and three members of the staff have been +killed. One big shell fell in the composing<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> room and so now the paper +is set by hand. It is a single sheet and the circulation is limited to +the three or four thousand civilians, who have stuck to Rheims +throughout the bombardment. One of the few who remain is a man who keeps +a picture postcard shop in a building next door to the newspaper office. +His roof has been knocked down about his head and his business is hardly +thriving. I asked him why he remained.</p> + +<p>"I started to go away several months ago after one day when they put +some gas shells into the town," he said. "The very next morning I put +all my things into a cart and started up that street there. I had gone +just about to the third street when a shell hit the house behind me. It +killed my horse and wrecked the wagon and so I picked up my things and +came back. It seemed to me I wasn't meant to go away from Rheims."</p> + +<p>The shelling increased in violence before we left the office of +<i>L'Eclaireur</i>. One shell was certainly not more than a hundred and fifty +yards away, but the work went on without interruption. The printers who +were setting ads<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a> never looked up. Mostly these advertisements were of +houses in Rheims which were renting lower than ever before. If there was +anyone in the visiting party who felt uncomfortable he was unwilling to +show it, for just outside the door of the newspaper office there sat an +old lady with a lapful of fancy work. A shell came from over the hills +and, in the seconds while it whistled and then smashed, the old lady +threaded her needle.</p> + +<p>A day later, when some of us were willing to confess that of all +miserable sounds the whistling of a shell was the meanest, we found a +curious kink in the brain of everyone. It was the universal experience +that the slightest bit of cover, however inadequate, gave a sense of +safety out of all proportion to its utility. Thus we all felt much more +uncomfortable in the square than when we stood in the composing room of +the newspaper which was shielded by the remains of a glass skylight. The +same curious psychological twist can be found among soldiers at the +front. Again and again men will be found taking apparent comfort in<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> the +fact that half an inch of tin roof protects them from the shells of the +Germans.</p> + +<p>One is always taken from the cathedral of Rheims to the wine cellars. +The children of darkness are invariably wiser than the children of light +and the champagne merchants have not suffered as the churchmen have. +Their business places have been knocked about their heads, but their +treasures are underground deep enough to defy the biggest shells. In the +cellar of a single company which we visited there were 12,000,000 quarts +of wine. Even the German invasion at the beginning of the war failed to +deplete this stock. Hundreds of people live in these cellars, which are +laid out in avenues and streets. We came first to New York, a street +with tier upon tier of wine bottles; then to Boston, then to Buenos +Ayres, then to Montreal. One of the visitors explained that the street +named New York contained the wine destined to be shipped to that city, +while Buenos Ayres contained the consignment for the Argentine capital, +and so on. We nodded acceptance of the theory, but<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> the next wine-laden +street was called Carnot and the next was Jeanne d'Arc.</p> + +<p>From the cellars we made a journey to a battery of French .75's. It was +a peaceful military station, for so well were the guns concealed that +they seemed exempt from German fire, in spite of the fact that they had +been in place for half a year. The men sat about underground playing +cards and reading newspapers, but the commander of the battery was +unwilling that we should go with such a peaceful impression of his guns. +He brought his men to action with a word or two and sent six shells +sailing at the German first line trenches for our benefit. We left, half +deafened, but delighted.</p> + +<p>No child could be more eager to show a toy than is a French officer to +let a visitor see in some small fashion how the war wags. We went from +the battery to a first line trench. It was slow work down miles and +miles of camouflaged road to the communicating trench, and all along the +line we were stopped by kindly Frenchmen, who wanted us to see how their +dugouts were decorated or the nature of their<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> dining room or the first +aid dressing station or any little detail of the war with which they +were directly concerned. Much can be done with a dugout when a few back +numbers of <i>La Vie Parisienne</i> are available. Still, this scheme of +decoration may be carried too far. I will never forget the face of a Y. +M. C. A. man who joined us at a French officers' mess one day. It was a +low ceilinged room, with pine walls, but not an inch of wall was +visible, for a complete papering of <i>La Vie Parisienne</i> pictures had +been provided. Among the ladies thus drafted for decorative purposes +there was perhaps chiffon enough to make a single arm brassard.</p> + +<p>Trenches, save in the very active sectors, give the visitor a sense of +security. Open places are the ones which try the nerves of civilians, +and it was pleasant to walk with a wall of earth on either hand, even if +some of us did have to stoop a bit. From the point where we entered the +communication trench to the front line was probably not more than half a +mile as the crow flies—if, indeed, he is foolish enough to travel over +trenches—but the sunken<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a> pathway turned and twisted to such an extent +that it must have been two miles before we struck even the third line. +Here we were held while ever so many dugouts and kitchens and gas alarm +stations and telephones were exhibited for us. They were all included in +the routine of war, but of a sudden romance popped up from underground. +The conducting officer paused at the entrance of a passage. "Another +dugout" we thought.</p> + +<p>"Bring them up!" said the officer to a soldier, and the poilu scrambled +down the steps and came up with a bird cage containing two birds.</p> + +<p>"These are the last resort," explained the officer. "We send messages +from the trenches by telephone, if we can. If the wires are destroyed we +use flashes from a light, but if that station is also broken and we must +have help the birds are freed."</p> + +<p>Neither pigeon seemed in the least puffed up over the responsibility +which rested upon him.</p> + +<p>The German trenches were just 400 yards away from the first lines of the +French. It<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a> was possible to see them by peering over the rim of the +trench, but we quickly ducked down again. Presently we grew less +cautious, and one or two tried to stare the Germans out of countenance. +If they could see that strangers were peeping at them they paid no +attention.</p> + +<p>The French officer in charge seemed embarrassed. He explained that it +was an exceptionally quiet day. Only the day before the Germans had been +active with trench mortars, and he couldn't understand why they were +sulking now. Possibly the bombardment from the French .75's, which had +been going on all day, had softened them a bit. He looked about the +trench dejectedly. The soldiers of the front line were playing cards, +eating soup or modeling little grotesque figures out of the soft rock +which lined the walls of the trenches. He called sharply to a soldier, +who fetched a box of rifle grenades out of a cubbyhole and sent half a +dozen, one after the other, spinning at the German lines. Probably they +fell short, or perhaps the Germans were simply sullen. At any rate, they +paid no attention. They<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> were not disposed into being prodded to show +off for American visitors.</p> + +<p>The officer suddenly thought up a method to retrieve the lost reputation +of his trench. If we could only stay until dark he would send us all out +on a patroling party right up to the wire in front of the German first +line. We declined, and made some little haste to leave this ever so +obliging officer. In another moment we feared he would organize an +exhibition offensive for our benefit and reserve us places in the first +wave.</p> + +<p>If things were quiet on the ground there was plenty of activity aloft. +It was a clear day, and both sides had big sausage balloons up for +observation. Once a German plane tried to attack a French sausage, but +it was driven off, and all day long the Germans sought without success +to wing the balloon with one of their long range guns. In that +particular sector on that particular day the French unquestionably had +the mastery of the air. We saw four of their 'planes in the air to every +one German, and once a fleet of five cruised over the German lines. The +Boche opened on them with<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a> shrapnel. It was a clear day, without a +breath of wind, and the white puffs clung to the sky at the point where +they broke. Presently the French planes swooped much lower, and the +Germans opened on them with machine guns. Somebody has said that machine +gun fire sounds as if a crazy carpenter was shingling a roof, and +somebody else has compared the noise to a typewriter being operated in +an upper room, but it is still more like a riveting machine. It has a +business-like, methodical sound to me. To my ear there is no malice in a +machine gun, but then I have never heard it from an aeroplane.</p> + +<p>The officer in charge accompanied us to the end of the communicating +trench.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>We told him that we were going directly to Paris.</p> + +<p>"Have a good time," he said, "but leave one dinner and one drink for +me."</p> + +<p>"You are going to Paris?" we asked.</p> + +<p>He looked over toward the German wire and smiled a little. "I may," he +said.<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><br /> +<small>VERDUN</small></h2> + +<p>F<small>ROM</small> the hills around Verdun we saw the earth as it must have looked on +perhaps the fourth day of creation week. It was all frowsy mud and +slime. Man was down deep in the dust from which he will spring again +some day. There was not even a foothold for poppies on the hills around +Verdun, for mingled with the old earth scars were fresh ones, and there +will be more tomorrow.</p> + +<p>The Germans have been pushed back of the edges of the bowl in which +Verdun lies, and now their only eyes are aeroplanes. Big naval guns are +required to reach the city itself, but the Germans are not content to +leave the battered town alone. They bang away at ruins and kick a city +which is down. They fire, too, at the citadel, but do no more than +scratch the top of this great underground fortress.</p> + +<p>Our guide and mentor at Verdun was a distinguished<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a> colonel, very +learned in military tactics and familiar with every phase of the various +Verdun campaigns. The extent of his information was borne home to us the +first day of the trip, for he stood the party on top of Fort Souville +and carried on a technical talk in French for more than half an hour, +while German shells, breaking a few hundred yards away, sought in vain +to interrupt him.</p> + +<p>From the top of Souville it was possible to see gun flashes and to spy, +now and again, aeroplanes which darted back and forth all day, but not a +soldier of either side was to be seen through the strongest glasses. On +no front have men dug in so deeply as at Verdun. They have good reason +to snuggle into the earth, for the French have a story that one of their +projectiles killed men in a dugout seventy-five feet below the surface. +They thought that this terrific penetration must have been due to the +fact that the shell hit fairly upon a crack in the concrete and wedged +its way through.</p> + +<p>Barring plumbing, which is always an after thought in France, the French +make the underground<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a> dwellings of the soldiers moderately comfortable. +There are ventilating plants and electric lights, and in the citadel a +motion picture theater. In one underground stronghold we found the +telephone central for all the various positions around Verdun. We +wondered whether or not he was ever obliged to report, "Your party +doesn't answer."</p> + +<p>We traveled far underground, and at last the colonel brought us out +again near the high, bare spot where the automobiles had been left. As +we walked down the road there was a particularly vicious bang some place +to our left.</p> + +<p>"That wasn't very far away," said the colonel.</p> + +<p>This was the first shell which had stirred him to interest or attention. +Presently there came another bang, and this seemed just as loud. The +colonel paused thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Maybe one of their aeroplanes has seen us and spotted us for the +artillery," he said. "Tell the chauffeurs to turn the cars around at +once, and we'll go."</p> + +<p>The chauffeurs turned the cars with commendable<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a> alacrity and the +colonel walked slowly toward them. But his roving glance rested for an +instant upon a little ridge across the valley to his left which brought +memories to his mind and he stopped in the middle of the road and began: +"In the Spring of 1915——" On and on he went in his beautiful French +and described some small affair which might have influenced the entire +subsequent course of events. It seemed that if the Germans had varied +their plan a little the French defensive scheme would have been upset +and all sorts of things would have happened. At the end of twenty +minutes he had done full justice to the subject and then he recollected.</p> + +<p>"We'd better go now," he said, "the Germans may have spotted us."</p> + +<p>We messed with the French officers in the citadel that night and found +that they were ready to converse on almost any subject but the war. +Literature was their favorite topic. Although the colonel spoke no +English, he was familiar with much American literature in translation. +Poe he knew well, and he had read a few things of Mark Twain's. +Somebody<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a> mentioned William James, and a captain quoted at length from +an essay called "A Moral Equivalent for War." The lieutenant on my right +wanted to know whether Americans still read Walt Whitman, and I wondered +whether the same familiarity with French literature would be encountered +in any American mess. This little lieutenant had been a professor or +instructor some place or other when the war began and had several +poetical dramas in verse to his credit. He had written a play called +"Dionysius" in rhymed couplets. At the beginning of the war he had +enlisted as a private and had seen much hard service, which had brought +him two wounds, a medal and a commission. He hoped ardently to survive +the war, for he felt that he could write ever so much better because he +had been thrown into close relationship with peasants and laborers. He +found their talk meaty, and at times rich in poetry. One day, he +remembered, his regiment had marched along a country road in a fine +spring dawn. His comrade to the right, a Parisian peddler, remarked as +they passed a gleaming forest: "There is a<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> wood where God has slept." +The little lieutenant said that if he had the luck to live through the +war he was going to write plays without a thought of the Greeks and +their mythology. He hoped, if he should live, to write for the many as +well as the few. I wondered to myself just what sort of plays one of our +American highbrows would write if he served a campaign with the 69th or +drove an army mule.</p> + +<p>The French army tries to let the men at the front live a little better +than elsewhere if it is possible to get the food up to them. In the +citadel at Verdun the men dine in style now that the incoming roads are +pretty much immune from shell fire. Our luncheon with the officers on +the night of the twenty-fifth of September, for instance, consisted of +hors d'œuvres, omelette aux fines herbes, bifsteck, pommes +parmentier, confitures, dessert, café, champagne and pinard. And for +dinner we had potage vermicelli, œfs bechamel, jambon aux epinards, +chouxfleur au jus, duchesse chocolat, fruits, dessert, café and, of +course, champagne and pinard.<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a></p> + +<p>We spent the night in the citadel and a little after midnight the German +planes came over. They bombed the town and dropped a few missiles on the +citadel, but they did no more than dent the roof a bit. Our rooms were +almost fifty meters underground and the bombs sounded little louder than +heavy rain on the roof. Certainly they did not disturb the Frenchman +just down the hall. His snores were ever so much louder than the German +bombs.</p> + +<p>On the morning of our second day we crossed the Meuse and drove down +heavily camouflaged roads to Charny. Five hundred yards away a French +battery was under heavy bombardment from big German guns. We could see +the earth fly up from hits close to the gun emplacements. Five hundred +yards away men were being killed and wounded, but the soldiers in Charny +loafed about and smoked and chatted and paid no attention. This +bombardment was not in their lives at all. The men of the battery might +have been the folk who walk upside down on the other side of the earth.<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a></p> + +<p>"The last time I came to Charny," said the Colonel, "I had to get in a +dugout and stay five hours because the Germans bombarded it so hard.</p> + +<p>"But that was in the afternoon," he reassured us; "the Germans never +bombard Charny in the morning."</p> + +<p>We stood and watched the two sheets of fire poured upon the battery +until somebody called attention to the fact that it was almost noon and +we returned to the citadel. And at two o'clock that afternoon we stood +on a hilltop overlooking the valley and sure enough the Germans were +giving Charny its daily strafe. Shells were bursting all around the +peaceful road we had traveled in the morning. Probably by now the men in +the battery were idling about and taking their ease. After all there is +something to be said for a foe who plays a system.<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><br /> +<small>WE VISIT THE BRITISH ARMY</small></h2> + +<p>H<small>E</small> was twenty-six and a major, but he was three years old in the big +war, and that is the only age which counts today in the British army. +The little major was the first man I ever met who professed a genuine +enthusiasm for war. It had found him a black sheep in the most remote +region of a big British colony and had tossed him into command of +himself and of others. Utterly useless in the pursuit of peace, war had +proved a sufficiently compelling schoolmaster to induce the study of +many complicated mechanical problems, of subtler ones of psychology, not +to mention two languages. It is true that his German was limited to +"Throw up your hands" and "Come out or we'll bomb you," but he could +carry on a friendly and fairly extensive conversation in French. The +tuition fee was two wounds.<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a></p> + +<p>He was a fine, fair sample of the slashing, swanking British army which +backs its boasts with battalions and makes its light words good with +heavy guns. We rode together in a train for several hours on the way to +the British front and when I told him I was a newspaper man he was eager +to tell me something of what the British army had done, was doing and +would do.</p> + +<p>"If they'd cut out wire and trenches and machine guns and general +staffs," said the little major, "we'd win in two months." Without these +concessions he did not expect to see the end for at least a year. +However, he was concerned for the most part with more concrete things +than predictions, and I'd best let him wander on as he did that +afternoon with no interruption save an occasional question. He was +returning to the front after being wounded. There had been boating and +swimming and tennis and "a deuced pretty girl" down there at the resort +where he had been recuperating, and yet he was glad to be back.</p> + +<p>"You see," the little major explained, "I have been in all the shows +from the beginning<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> and I'd feel pretty rotten if they were to pull +anything off without me. The C.O. wants me back. I have a letter here +from him. He tells me to take all the time I need, but to get back as +soon as I can. The C.O. and I have been together from the beginning. It +isn't that the new fellow isn't all right. Quite likely he's a better +officer than I am, but the C.O. wants the old fellows that he's seen in +other shows and knows all about. That's why I want to get back. I want +to see what the new fellow's doing with my men."</p> + +<p>He limped a little still, and I pressed him to tell me about his wound. +It seemed he got it in "the April show."</p> + +<p>"There was a bit of luck about that," he said. "I happened to take my +Webley with me when we went over, as well as my cane. They've got a +silly rule now that officers mustn't carry canes in an attack and that +they must wear Tommies' tunics, so the Fritzies can't spot them. They +say we lose too many officers because they expose themselves. Nobody +pays much attention to that rule. You won't find many officers in +Tommies' tunics,<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a> but you will find 'em out in front with their canes.</p> + +<p>"And there's sense to it. I've always said that I wouldn't ask my men to +go any place I wasn't willing to go and to go first. 'Come on,' that's +what we say in the British army. The Germans drive their men from +behind. Some of their officers are very brave, you know, but that's the +system. I remember in one show we were stuck at the third line of barbed +wire. The guns hadn't touched it, but it wasn't their fault. There was a +German officer there, and he stood up on the parapet, and directed the +machine gun fire. He'd point every place we were a little thick and then +they'd let us have it. We got him, though. I got a machine gunner on +him. Just peppered him. He was a mighty brave officer."</p> + +<p>I reminded the little major that I wanted to hear about his wound.</p> + +<p>"We were coming through a German trench that had been pretty well +cleaned out, but close up against the back there was a soldier hiding. +When I came by he cut at me with his bayonet. He only got me in the +fleshy part of my<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a> leg, and I turned and let him have it with my Webley. +Blew the top of his head right off. Silly ass, wasn't he? Must have +known he'd be killed."</p> + +<p>I asked him if his wound hurt, and he said no, and that he was able to +walk back, and felt quite chipper until the last mile.</p> + +<p>"The first thing a wounded man wants to do," he explained, "is to get +away. If he's been hit he gets a sudden crazy fear that he's going to +get it again. Most wounds don't hurt much, and as soon as a man's out of +fire and puts a cigarette in his mouth he cheers up. He's at his best if +it's a blighty hit."</p> + +<p>Here I was forced to interrupt for information.</p> + +<p>"A blighty hit! Don't you know what that is? It's from the song they +sing now, 'Carry Me Back to Blighty.' Blighty's England. I think it's a +Hindustani word that means home, but I won't be sure about that. Anyhow, +a blighty hit's not bad enough to keep you in France, but bad enough to +send you to England. Those are the slow injuries that aren't so very +dangerous.<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a></p> + +<p>"Next to getting to Blighty a fellow wants a cigarette. I never saw a +man hit so bad he couldn't smoke. I saw a British 'plane coming down one +day and the tail of it was red. The Germans fix up their machines like +that, but I knew this wasn't paint on a British plane. He made a tiptop +landing, and when he got out we saw part of his shoulder was shot away +and he had a hole in the top of his head. 'That was a close call,' he +said, and he took out a cigarette, lighted it and took two puffs. Then +he keeled over."</p> + +<p>The little major and I got out to stretch our legs at a station +platform, and I noticed that salutes were punctiliously given and +returned. "I suppose," I said, quoting a bit of misinformation somebody +had supplied, "that out at the front all this saluting is cut out."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the little major sternly. "Somebody told that to the +last batch of recruits that was sent over, but we taught 'em better +soon. They don't get the lay of it quite. It isn't me they salute; it's +the King's uniform. Of course, I don't expect a man to salute if I pass +him in a trench; but if he's<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a> smoking a cigarette I expect him to throw +it away and I expect him to straighten up.</p> + +<p>"You've got to let up on some things, of course. There's shaving now. I +expect my men to shave every day when they're not in the line, but you +can't expect that in the trenches. Naturally, I shave myself every day +anyhow, but I'm lenient with the men. I don't insist on their shaving +more than every other day."</p> + +<p>When I got to the château where the visiting correspondents stay I found +the officers at mess. There were four British officers, a Roumanian +general, a member of Parliament, a Dutch painter and an American +newspaperman. As at Verdun the conversation had swung around to +literature. It all began because somebody said something about Shaw +having put up at the château when he visited the front.</p> + +<p>"Awful ass," said an English officer who had met the playwright out +there. "He was no end of nuisance for us. Why, when he got out here we +found he was a vegetarian, and we<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a> had to chase around and have +omelettes fixed up for him every day."</p> + +<p>"I censored his stuff," said another. "I didn't think much of it, but I +made almost no changes. Some of it was a little subtle, but I let it get +by."</p> + +<p>"I heard him out here," said a third officer, "and he talked no end of +rot. He said the Germans had made a botch of destroying towns. He said +he could have done more damage to Arras with a hammer than the Germans +did with their shells. Of course, he couldn't begin to do it with a +hammer, and, anyway, he wouldn't be let. I suppose he never thought of +that. Then he said that the Germans were doing us a great favor by their +air raids. He said they were smashing up things that were ugly and +unsanitary. That's silly. We could pull them down ourselves, you know, +and, anyhow, in the last raid they hit the postoffice."</p> + +<p>"The old boy's got nerve, though," interrupted another officer. "I was +out at the front with him near Arras and there was some pretty lively +shelling going on around us. I<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a> told him to put on his tin hat, but he +wouldn't do it. I said, 'Those German shell splinters may get you,' and +he laughed and said if the Germans did anything to him they'd be mighty +ungrateful, after all he'd done for them. He don't know the Boche."</p> + +<p>"He told me," added a British journalist, "'when I want to know about +war I talk to soldiers.' I asked him: 'Do you mean officers or Tommies?' +He said that he meant Tommies.</p> + +<p>"Now you know how much reliance you can put in what a Tommy says. He'll +either say what he thinks you want him to say or what he thinks you +don't want him to say. I told Shaw that, but he paid no attention."</p> + +<p>Here the first officer chimed in again. "Well, I stick to what I've said +right along. I don't see where Shaw's funny. I think he's silly."</p> + +<p>The major who sat at the head of the table deftly turned the +conversation away from literary controversy. "What did you think of +Conan Doyle?" he said.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Bright and early next morning we started<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a> out to follow in the footsteps +of Shaw. We went through country which had been shocked and shaken by +both sides in their battles and then dynamited in addition by the +retreating Germans. I stood in Peronne which the Germans had dynamited +with the greatest care. They left the town for dead, but against a +shattered wall was a sign which read, "Regimental cinema tonight at the +Splinters—CHARLIE CHAPLIN IN SHANGHAIED." This was first aid. A frozen +man is rubbed with snow and a town which has suffered German +frightfulness is regaled with Charlie Chaplin.</p> + +<p>Life will come back to that town in time and to others. After all life +is a rubber band and it will be just as it was only an instant after +they let go. We turned down the road to Arras and drove between fields +which had been burned to cinders and trodden into mud by men and guns +only a few weeks ago. Now the poppies were sweeping all before them. +Into the trenches they went and over. First line, second line, third +line, each fell in turn to the redcoats. They were so thick that the +earth seemed to bleed for its wounds.<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a></p> + +<p>Presently we were in Arras and our officer led us into the cathedral. +"We won't stay in here long," said the officer. "The Germans drop a +shell in here every now and then and the next one may bring the rest of +the walls down. People keep away from here." This indeed seemed a very +citadel of destruction and loneliness, but as we turned to go we heard a +mournful noise from an inner room. We investigated and found a Tommy +practicing on the cornet. He was playing a piece entitled, "Progressive +Exercises for the Cornet—Number One." He stood up and saluted.</p> + +<p>"Have the Germans bombarded the town at all today?" the captain asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the Tommy. "They bombarded the square out in front here +this morning."</p> + +<p>"Did they get anybody?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, only a Frenchman, sir," replied the Tommy with stiff +formality.</p> + +<p>"Was there any other activity?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, there were some aeroplanes over about an hour ago and they +dropped some<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a> bombs in there," said the Tommy indicating a street just +back of the cathedral.</p> + +<p>"And what were we doing?" persisted the captain.</p> + +<p>"We were trying out some new anti-aircraft ammunition," explained the +Tommy patiently, "but I don't think it was any good, sir, because most +of it came down and buried itself over there," and he indicated a spot +some fifteen or twenty feet from his music room.</p> + +<p>The captain could think of no more inquiries just then and the soldier +quickly folded up his cornet and his music and after saluting with +decent haste left the cathedral. For the sake of his music he was +willing to endure shells and bombs and shrapnel fragments but questions +put him off his stride entirely. He fled, perhaps, to some shell hole +for solitude.</p> + +<p>From the cathedral we went to the town hall. Here again one could not +but be impressed with the futility of destruction. The Germans have torn +the building cruelly with their shells and their dynamite, but beauty is +tough. Dynamite a bakeshop and you have only a mess. Shell a tailor's +and rubbish is<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> left. But it is different when you begin to turn your +guns against cathedrals and town halls. If a structure is built +beautifully it will break beautifully. The dynamite has cut fine lines +in the jagged ruins of the Town Hall. The Germans have smashed +everything but the soul of the building. They didn't get that. It was +not for want of trying, but dynamite has its limitations.</p> + +<p>We got up to the lines the next day and had a fine view of the opposing +trench systems for ten or twelve miles. Our box seat was on top of a +hill just back of Messines ridge. We saw a duel between two aeroplanes, +the explosion of a munitions dump, and no end of big gun firing but the +officer who conducted us said that it was a dull morning. Our day on the +hill was a clear one after three days of low clouds, and all the fliers +were out in force. Almost two dozen British 'planes were to be seen from +the hilltop, as well as several captive balloons. Although the English +'planes flew well over the German lines, they drew no fire, but +presently the sky began to grow woolly. Little round white patches +appeared, one against<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a> the other, cutting the sky into great flannel +figures. Then we saw above it all a 'plane so high as to be hardly +visible. Indeed, we should not have seen it but for the telltale +shrapnel. These were our guns, and this was no friend. Now it was almost +over our heads. It seemed intent upon attacking one of the British +captive balloons, which could only stand and wait. The guns were +snarling now. We were close enough to hear the anger in every shot. The +shrapnel broke behind, below, above and in front of the aeroplane, but +on it sailed, untouched, like a glass ball in a Buffalo Bill shooting +trick.</p> + +<p>Yet here was no poor marksmanship, for at ten thousand feet the air +pilot has forty seconds to dodge each shell. He merely has to watch the +flash of the gun and then dive or rise or slide to right or left. +Sometimes, indeed, the shrapnel lays a finger on him, but he whirls away +out of its grip like a quarterback in a broken field. The guns stopped +firing, although the German was still above the British lines. Somebody +was up to tackle him at closer range. Where our 'plane came from<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a> we did +not know. The sky was filled all morning with English fliers, but each +appeared to have definite work in hand, and not one paid the slightest +attention to the German intruder. This was a special assignment. When we +caught sight of the English flier he had maneuvered into a position +behind his German adversary. We caught the flashes from the machine +guns, but we could hear no sound of the fight above us. The 'planes +darted forward and back. They were clever little bantams, these, and +neither was able to put in a finishing blow. Our stolid guiding officer +was up on his toes now and rooting as if it were some sporting event in +progress. Looking upward at his comrade, ten thousand feet aloft, he +cried: "Let him have it!"</p> + +<p>The hostile attitude of the spectators or something else discouraged the +German and he turned and made for his own lines. The Englishman pursued +him for a time and then gave up the chase. The consensus of opinion was +that the Briton had won the decision on points.</p> + +<p>"They've been making a dead set for our<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a> balloons all week," said an +English soldier after the German 'plane had been driven away.</p> + +<p>"If they get the balloon does that mean that they get the observer?" I +asked in my ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you no," said the soldier. "No danger for 'im, sir. He just +jumps out with a parachute."</p> + +<p>Next we turned our attention to the big gun firing. We could see the +flash of the guns of both sides and hear the whistle of the shells. +After the flash one might mark the result if he had a sharp eye. There +was no trouble in following the progress of one particular British shell +for an instant after the flash a high column of smoke arose above a town +which the Germans held. A minute or so later we had our own column for a +German shell hit one of the many munition dumps scattered about behind +the British front. Our own hill was pocked with shell holes and the +tower near which we stood was nibbled nigh to bits and we had a wakeful, +stimulating feeling that almost any minute something might drop on or<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> +near us. The Tommy with whom we shared the view undeceived us.</p> + +<p>"This hill!" he said. "Why there was a time when it was as much as your +life was worth to stand up here and now the place's nothing but a +bloomin' Cook's tour resort."</p> + +<p>Our last day with the army was spent at the University of Death and +Destruction where the men from England take their final courses in +warfare. We began with a class which was having a lesson in defense +against bombs. A tin can exploded at the feet of a Scotchman and +peppered his bare legs. Five hundred soldiers roared with laughter, for +the man in the kilt had flunked his recitation in "Trench Raiding." +Officially the Scot was dead, for the tin can represented a German bomb. +They were cramming for war in the big training camp and they played +roughly. The imitation bombs carried a charge of powder generous enough +to insure wholesome respect. The Scot, indeed, had to retire to have a +dressing made.</p> + +<p>The trench in which the class was hard at work was perfect in almost +every detail, save<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a> that it lacked a back wall. This was removed for the +sake of the audience. An instructor stood outside and every now and +again he would toss a bomb at his pupils. He played no favorites. The +good and the bad scholar each had his chance. In order to pass the +course the soldier had to show that he knew what to do to meet the bomb +attack. He might take shelter in the traverse; he might kick the bomb +far away; or, with a master's degree in view, he might pick up the +imitation bomb and hurl it far away before it could explode. Speed and +steady nerves were required for this trick. An explosion might easily +blow off a finger or two. Yet, after all, it was practice. Later there +might be other bombs designed for bigger game than fingers.</p> + +<p>We followed the students from bombs to bayonets. The men with the cold +steel were charging into dummies marked with circles to represent spots +where hits were likely to be vital. It looked for all the world like +football practice and the men went after the dummies as the tacklers +used to do at Soldiers' Field of an afternoon when the coach had pinned +blue<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a> sweaters and white "Y's" on the straw men. There was the same +severely serious spirit. In a larger field a big class was having +instruction in attack. Before them were three lines of trenches +protected by barbed wire ankle high. At a signal they left their trench +and darted forward to the next one. Here they paused for a moment and +then set sail for the second trench. At another signal they were out of +that and into a third trench. From here they blazed away at some targets +on the hill representing Germans and consolidated their positions. +Instructors followed the charge along the road which bordered the +instruction field. They mingled praise and blame, but ever they shouted +for speed. "Make this go now," would be the cry, and to a luckless wight +who had been upset by barbed wire and sent sprawling: "What do you mean +by lying there, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>It was a New Zealand company which I saw, and in the class were a number +of Maoris. These were fine, husky men of the type seen in the Hawaiian +Islands. All played the game hard, but none seemed so imaginatively +stirred<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> by it as the Maoris. They were fairly carried away by the +enthusiasm of a charge, and left their trenches each time shouting at +top voice. The capture of the third trench by no means satisfied them. +They wanted to go on and on. If the officer had not called a halt +there's no telling but that they might have invaded the next field and +bayoneted the bombardiers. Over the hill there was a rattle of machine +guns and beyond that a more scattering volume of musketry. We stopped +and watched the men at their rifle practice.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't believe it," said the instructor, "but we've got to keep +hammering it home to men that rifles are meant to shoot with. For a time +you heard nothing but bayonets. A gun might have been nothing more than +a pike. Later everything was bombs, and sometimes soldiers just stood +and waited till the Boches got close, so that they could peg something +at 'em. But when these men go away they're going to know that the bombs +and the bayonet are the frill. It's the shooting that counts."</p> + +<p>We saw a good deal of the British army during<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a> our trip but the thing +which gave me the clearest insight into the fundamental fighting, +sporting spirit of the army was a story which an officer told me of an +incident which occurred in the sector where he was stationed. An +enlisted man and an officer were trapped during a daylight patrol when a +mist lifted and they had to take shelter in a shell hole. They lay there +for some hours, and then the soldier endeavored to make a break back for +his own trenches. No sooner had his head and shoulders appeared above +the shell hole than a German machine gun pattered away at him. He was +hit and the officer started to climb up to his assistance.</p> + +<p>"No, don't come," said the soldier. "They got me, sir." He put his hand +up and indicated a wound on the left hand side of his chest. "It was a +damn good shot," he said.<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><br /> +<small>BACK FROM PRISON</small></h2> + +<p>F<small>RANCE</small> has a better right to fight than any nation in the world because +she can wage war, even a slow and bitter war, with a gesture. Misery +does not blind the French to the dramatic. Even the tears and the +heartache are made to count for France. We saw wounded men come back +from German prison camps and Lyons made the coming of these wrecked and +shattered soldiers a pageant. Gray men, grim men, silent men stood up +and shouted like boys in the bleachers because there was someone there +to greet them with the right word. There is always somebody in France +who has that word.</p> + +<p>This time it was a lieutenant colonel of artillery. He was a man big as +Jess Willard and his voice boomed through the station like one of his +own huge howitzers as he swung his<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a> arm above his head and said to the +men from Germany: "I want you all to join with me in a great cry. Open +your throats as well as your hearts. The cry we want to hear from you is +one that you want to give because for so long a time you have been +forbidden to cry 'Vive la France.'" The big man shouted as he said it, +but this time the howitzer voice was not heard above the roar of other +voices.</p> + +<p>The French soldiers who came back from Germany had been for some little +time in a recuperation camp in Switzerland. A few were lame, many were +thin and peaked and almost all were gray, but the Lyonnaise said that +this was not nearly so bad as the last train load of men from German +prisons. There were no madmen this time.</p> + +<p>The windows of the cars were crowded with faces as the train came slowly +into the station. There was no shouting until the big man made his +speech. Some of the returned prisoners waved their hands, but most of +them greeted the soldiers and the crowds which waited for them with +formal salutes. A file of soldiers was drawn up along the platform<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a> and +outside the station was a squad of cavalry trying to stand just as +motionless as the infantry. There were horns and trumpets inside the +station and out and they blew a nipping, rollicking tune as the train +rolled in. The wounded men, all but a few on stretchers, descended from +the cars in military order. Lame men with canes hopped and skipped in +order to keep step with their more nimble comrades.</p> + +<p>There was an old woman in black who darted out from the crowd and wanted +to throw her arms around the neck of a young soldier, but he waved to +her not to come. You see she still thought of him as a boy, but that had +been three years ago. He was a marching man now and it would never do to +break the formation. Group by group they came from the train with a new +blare of the trumpets for each unit. There were 416 French soldiers, +thirty-seven French officers and seventeen Belgians. They marched past +the receiving group of officers and saluted punctiliously, though it was +a little bit hard because their arms were full of flowers. When they had +all been gathered in<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a> the waiting room of the station the big colonel +made his speech. He did not speak very long because the returned +soldiers could see out of the corner of their eyes that just across the +room were big tables with scores of expectant and anticipatory bottles +of champagne. But there was fizz, too, to the talk of the big colonel. I +had the speech translated for me afterwards but I guessed that some of +it was about the Germans, for I caught the phrase "inhuman cruelty."</p> + +<p>"You have a right to feel now that you are back on the soil of France +after all these years of inhuman cruelty that your work is done," said +the colonel, "but there is still something that you must do. There is +something that you ought to do. You will tell everybody of the wrongs +the Germans have inflicted upon you. You will tell exactly what they +have done and you will thus serve France by increasing the hatred +between our people and their people."</p> + +<p>The soldiers and the crowd cheered then almost as loudly as they did +later in the great shout of "Vive la France." The gray men, the grim men +and the silent men were stirred by<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a> what the colonel said because they +did and will forever have a quarrel with the German people.</p> + +<p>"We are doubly glad to welcome you back to France because our hearts +have been so cheered by the coming of America," continued the colonel. +"Victory seems nearer and nearer and vengeance for all the things you +have endured." It was then that he snatched the great shout of "Vive la +France" from the crowd.</p> + +<p>As the din died down the corks began to pop and men who a little time +before had not even been sure of a proper ration of water began to gulp +champagne out of tin cups. The sting of the wine, the excitement and the +din were too much for one returned prisoner. He had scarcely lifted his +glass to his lips than he fell over in a heap and there was one more +weary wanderer to make his return sickabed in a stretcher. But the rest +marched better as they came out of the station with band tunes blaring +in their ears and God knows what tunes singing in their hearts as they +clanked along the cobbles. For they had been dead men and they were back +in France and there was sun<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a> in the sky. When they crossed the bridge +they broke ranks. The old woman in black was there and for just a minute +the marching man became a boy again.<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><br /> +<small>FINISHING TOUCHES</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> American army had begun to find itself when October came round. +Perhaps it had not yet gained a complete army consciousness, but there +could be no doubt about company spirit. Chaps who had been civilians +only a few months before now spoke of "my company" as if they had grown +up with the outfit. They were also ready to declare loudly and profanely +in public places that H or L or K or I, as the case might be, was the +best company in the army. Some were willing to let the remark stand for +the world.</p> + +<p>Too much credit cannot be given to the captains of the first American +Expeditionary Force. A captain commands more men now than ever before in +the American army and he has more power. This was particularly true in +France where many companies had a little <a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>village to themselves. The +captain, therefore, was not only a military leader, a father confessor, +and a gents' furnisher, but also an ambassador to the people of a small +section of France. The colonels and majors and the rest are the fellows +who think up things to be done, but it is the captains who do them.</p> + +<p>Of course that wasn't the way the junior officers looked at it. A man +who was a first lieutenant when the army came to France told us: "A +first lieutenant is supposed to know everything and do everything; a +captain is supposed to know everything and do nothing, and a major is +supposed to know nothing and do nothing."</p> + +<p>We were delighted early this year when we heard that he had been made a +major, for we immediately sat down and telegraphed to him: "After what +you told us this summer, we are sure you will be an excellent major."</p> + +<p>By October much of the feeling between the officers of the regular army +and the reserve had been smoothed out, but it was not like that in the +early days. Once when a young reserve major was put in command of a +battalion, a<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a> regular army captain who was much his senior in years +observed: "I think there ought to be an army regulation that no reserve +officer shall be appointed to command a battalion without the consent of +his parents or guardian." But as the work grew harder and harder many +little jealousies of the army were simply sweated out. It was easy to do +that, for the American army woke up, or rather was awakened, every +morning at five o'clock. There was a Kansas farmer in one company who +was always up and waiting for the buglers. He said that the schedule of +the American army always left him at a loss as to what to do with his +mornings. But for the rest the trumpeters were compelled to blow their +loudest. Roll call was at five-thirty and this was followed with setting +up exercises designed to give the men an appetite for the six o'clock +breakfast. This was almost always a hearty meal. The poilus who began +the day with a cup of black coffee and a little war bread were amazed to +see the doughboys start off at daylight with Irish stew, or bacon or ham +or mush and occasionally eggs in addition to white bread and coffee.<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a></p> + +<p>After breakfast came sick call, at which men who felt unable to drill +for any reason were obliged to talk it over with the doctor. Those who +had no ailments went to work vigorously in making up their cots and +cleaning their quarters. At seven they fell in and marched away to the +training ground. Mornings were usually devoted to bombing, machine gun +and automatic rifle practice. A little after eleven the doughboys +started back to their billets for dinner. This was likely to consist of +beans and boiled beef or salmon, or there would be a stew again or +corned beef hash. The most prevalent vegetables were potatoes and canned +corn. Dinner might also include a pudding, nearly always rice or canned +fruit. Sometimes there was jam and, of course, coffee and bread were +abundant.</p> + +<p>During the latter part of the training period the home dinner was often +omitted in favor of a meal prepared at the training ground. The +afternoon work began a little before two. Rifle practice, drills and +bayonet work were usually the phases of warfare undertaken at this time +of day. Labor ceased at four with supper,<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> which was much the same sort +of meal as dinner, at five-thirty. After supper the soldier's time was +pretty much his own. He could loaf about the town hall and listen to the +army band play selections from "The Fair Co-ed," "The Prince of Pilsen" +or any one of a score of comic operas long dead and forgotten by +everyone but army bandmasters, or he could go to the Y.M.C.A. and read +or write letters or play checkers or perhaps pool of the sort which is +possible on a small portable table. He was due back in quarters and in +bed at nine and he was always asleep at one minute and thirty seconds +after nine.</p> + +<p>The training hours became more crowded, if not longer, as the time drew +nearer when the American army should go to the front. Everybody was +anxious that they should make a good showing. Trench problems had to be +considered and gas and bayonet work which was the phase in which the +training was lagging somewhat. It was also considered useful that the +men should have some experience with shell fire before they heard guns +fired in anger, and so it was arranged that a sham battle should<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a> take +place in which the French would fire a barrage over the heads of the +American troops. The first plan was that the doughboys should advance +behind this barrage as in actual warfare and attack a system of practice +trenches. Later it was decided that it was not worth while to risk +possible casualties, as the men could learn almost as much although held +four or five hundred yards behind the barrage.</p> + +<p>The bombardment began with thirty-six shots to the minute and was +gradually raised to fifty-two. The doughboys were allowed to sit down to +watch the show. Our soldiers seemed a bit unfeeling, for not one +expressed any regret at the destruction of Hindenburg, Ludendorff, and +Mackensen, although they had spent many a happy afternoon under the +broiling sun constructing this elaborate trench system. None of the men +seemed disturbed, either, by the unfamiliar whistling sounds over head. +All the doughboys wore steel helmets but two were slightly injured by +small fragments from shells which fell a little short. In both cases the +wounded man had lowered the protective value of his helmet somewhat by<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> +sitting on it. After the first interest in the show wore off many proved +their ability to steal naps in spite of the bickering of the big guns. +The marines, for instance, had marched eighteen miles after rising at +3:30 in the morning, and although the marine corps is singularly hardy, +a few made up lost sleep. The patter of the French seventy-fives was no +more than rain on the roof to these men when they could find sufficient +cover to sleep unobserved.</p> + +<p>The most fortunate soldiers were those who were stationed in a fringe of +woods which bordered on the big meadow. Here the doughboys did a little +shooting on their own account when no officers were at hand. In a sudden +lull of gunfire I heard a voice say: "Shoot it all," and there was a +rattle of dice in the bottom of a steel helmet.</p> + +<p>When the bombardment was at its height a big hawk sailed over the field +full in the pathway of hundreds of shells. He circled about calmly in +spite of the shrieking things which whizzed by him and then he turned +contemptuously and flew away very slowly. Perhaps<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a> he was disappointed +because it was only a sham battle.</p> + +<p>Of course some of the officers saw the real thing. Many made trips to +the French front and a few fired some shots at the German lines just to +set a good precedent. American officers attended all the French +offensives of the summer as invited guests. Brigadier General George +Duncan and Lieutenant Colonel Campbell King were cited by the French +army for the croix de guerre after they had spent some thrilling hours +at Verdun. The awards were largely complimentary, of course, but the +American officers saw plenty of action. According to the French officers +General Duncan was at an advanced observation post when the Germans +spotted it and began pouring in shell. One fragment hit the General's +hat and the colonel in charge advised him that it would be well to move +back to a safer point of vantage. Duncan replied that this was the first +show he had ever seen and that he did not want to give up his front row +seat if he could help it.</p> + +<p>Lieutenant Colonel King paid visits to the first aid dressing stations +under heavy fire and<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> encouraged the wounded with words of good cheer in +bad French. The night before the attack his dugout was flooded with +poison vapor from German gas shells, but he awoke in time to arouse his +two companions, who got their masks on in time to prevent injury. +Another American officer who shall be nameless found it difficult to sit +back as a spectator when so much was going on. He was a brigadier +general, but this was his first taste of war on a big scale. The French +offensive aroused his enthusiasm so much that he said to a fellow +American officer: "Nobody's watching us now, let's sneak up ahead there +and throw a few bombs." The second officer, who was only a captain, +reminded him of his rank.</p> + +<p>"I can't help that," said the General, "I've just got to try and see if +I can't bomb a few squareheads." Discipline was overlooked for a moment +then as the captain restrained the General with physical force from +going forward to try out his arm.</p> + +<p>The British now seem to be able to give the Germans more than they want +in gas, but this superiority did not come until late in the year.<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a> +American officers who went to the front returned with a profound respect +for German gas and, in fact, all gas. This feeling was reflected in the +thoroughgoing training which the men received in gas and masks. It began +with lectures by the company commanders in which it is certain no very +optimistic picture of poison vapor was painted. Then came long drills in +putting on the mask in three counts and holding the breath during the +adjustment. The contrivance used was not a little like a catcher's mask +and this simplified the problem somewhat. The men carried the masks with +them everywhere and developed great speed in getting under protection. +Conscientious officers harassed their men by calling out "gas attack" at +unexpected moments such as when men were shaving or eating or sleeping. +Finally the doughboys were actually sent through gas.</p> + +<p>Big air-proof cellars were constructed in each village and here the +tests were held. As a matter of fact, the gas used was a form of tear +gas, calculated to irritate the eyes and nose and perhaps to cause +blindness for a few hours. It would not cause permanent injury even if<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a> +a mask were improperly adjusted. The comparative harmlessness of the +test vapor was kept secret. When the men went down the steps they +thought that one whiff of the air in the cellar would be fatal and so +they were most careful that each strap should be in its place. Most of +them had shaved twice over on the morning of the test so that the mask +should fit closely to the side of the face.</p> + +<p>The first man to go in was a captain and when he came out again +obviously alive and seemingly healthy, the doughboys were ready to take +a chance. A young soldier in the second batch to visit the gas chamber +had taken the tales of the vapor horrors a bit too much to heart. He +became panicstricken after one minute in the underground vault and had +to be helped out, faint and trembling.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" said his officer. "Are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," the boy answered frankly. "But I want to try it again," he +added quickly. He did, too. And what is more, he remained in for an +extra period as self-discipline for his soul. When he came out he leaned +against a fence<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a> and was sick, but he was triumphant because he had +proved to himself that his second wind of grit was stronger than his +nerves or his stomach.</p> + +<p>As the afternoon wore on a trip through the gas chamber became a lark +rather than an adventure and each batch before it went in was greeted by +such remarks as "Never mind the good-byes, Snooty! Just pay me that $2 +you owe me before you check off."</p> + +<p>"Who invented this gas stuff, anyway?" asked a fat soldier, as he sat in +the stifling vault, puffing and perspiring. "The Germans," he was told.</p> + +<p>"Well," he panted, "I'm going to give 'em hell for this."</p> + +<p>There was other practice which seemed less warlike. Particular attention +was paid to signaling and men on hilltops stood and waved their arms at +each other from dawn until sunset. I stood one bright day with an expert +who was trying the utmost capacity of the man stationed on the hill +across the valley. The officer made the little flags whirl through the +air like bunting on a battleship. He looked across<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a> the peaceful +countryside and saw war dangers on every hand. The gas attack which his +flags predicted seemed nothing more to me than the dust raised by a +passing army truck. He signaled that the tanks were coming, but they +mooed as they moved and the aeroplanes of which he spoke in dots and +dashes cawed most distinctly. With a twist of his wrist he would summon +a battery and with another send them back again. There was an emphatic +whip and swirl of color, and in answer to the signal mythical infantry +swarmed over theoretical trenches to attack shadow soldiers. The task of +the receiving soldier was made more difficult because every now and then +the officer would vary his military messages with "Double-header at the +Polo Grounds today" or "Please pass the biscuits." But the soldier read +them all correctly. Biscuits were just as easy for him as bullets.</p> + +<p>The men were also tested for their ability to carry oral messages. As a +result of this drill there were several new mule drivers. The test +message was, "Major Blank sends his compliments to Captain Nameless and +orders him<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a> to move L company one-half mile to the east and support K +company in the attack." After giving out this message the officer moved +to the top of a hill to receive it. The first soldier who came up had +difficulty in delivering the message because English seemed more alien +to him than Italian. He had it all right at that, except that he made it +a mile and a half. The next three delivered the message correctly, but +then a large soldier came panting up, fairly bursting with excitement, +and exclaimed: "The major says he hopes you're feeling all right and +please take your company a mile to the east and attack K company." The +names of such careless messengers were noted down so that they might not +cause blunders in battle.</p> + +<p>Precaution was taken against another source of mistakes by sending +American officers out to drill French units. A few found no trouble in +giving orders which the poilus could understand, but some had bad cases +of stage fright.</p> + +<p>"I almost wiped out a French battalion," said one young West Pointer. "I +got 'em started all right with 'avance' and they went off at a great +clip. I noticed that there was a<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> cliff right ahead of us and I began to +try and think how you said 'halt' in French. I couldn't remember and I +didn't want to get out in front and flag 'em by waving my arms, so we +just kept marching right on toward the cliff. They had their orders and +they kept on going. It began to look as if we'd all march right off the +cliff just to satisfy their pride and mine, but a French lieutenant came +to the rescue with 'a gauche en quatre!' I didn't know that one, but I +was a goat just the same. I could have gotten away with 'halt' all +right, because I found out afterwards that it's 'halte' in French and +that sounds almost the same."</p> + +<p>The British as well as the French helped in the final polishing of the +doughboys who were to go to the trenches. An English major and three +sergeants came to camp to teach bayonet work. They brought a healthy +touch of blunt criticism. The major told some young officers who were +studying in a training school that he wanted a trench dug. He told them +the length and the depth which he wanted and the time at which he +expected it to be finished. It was not done at the appointed hour. "Oh, +I say,<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a> that's rotten, you know!" exclaimed the big Englishman. The +American officer in charge was somewhat startled. The French were always +careful to phrase unfavorable criticism in pleasant words and there were +times when the sting was not felt. A rebuke so directly expressed +surprised the American so much that he started to make excuses for his +men. He explained that the soil in which they were digging was full of +rocks. The British major cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Never mind about the excuses," he said, "that was rotten work and you +know it."</p> + +<p>Curiously enough the American army got along very well with this +particular instructor and he on his part had the highest praise for the +capabilities of the American after he had sized them up in training. He +was more successful than the French in wheedling the Americans into +visualizing actual war conditions in their practice.</p> + +<p>"Never let your men remember that they are charging dummies," said the +visiting major to an American officer. "Make them think the<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a> straw men +are Germans. It can be done even without the use of dummies. Watch me."</p> + +<p>A remarkable demonstration followed. The major sent for a little Cockney +sergeant. "Now," he said, "this stick of mine with a knob on the end is +a German. Show these Americans how you would go after him."</p> + +<p>The little sergeant did some brisk work in slashing at the end of the +stick with his bayonet but the big major was not content. "Remember," he +said, "this is a German," and then he would add suddenly every now and +again: "Look out, my lad—he's coming at you!"</p> + +<p>And bye-and-bye the insinuation began to take effect. The little man had +spent two years on the line and it was easy to see that bit by bit he +was beginning to visualize the stick with a cloth knob as a Boche +adversary. His thrusts grew fiercer and fiercer. The point of his +bayonet flashed into the cloth knob again and again. He was trembling +with rage as he played the battle game. As he finally flung himself upon +the stick and knocked it out of the major's hands the officer called a +halt.</p> + +<p>"There," he said to the Americans, "if your<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a> men are to train well, +you've got to make them believe it's true, and you can do it."</p> + +<p>The British added lots of snap to the American training because they +knew how to arouse the competitive spirit. They made even the most +routine sort of a drill a game, and whether the men were bayoneting +dummies or shooting at tin cans the little Britishers kept them at top +speed by stirring up rivalry between the various organizations. +Sometimes the slang was a bit puzzling. The marines, for instance, +didn't know just what their bayonet instructor meant when he said: "Come +on, you dreadnoughts, give 'em the old 'kamerad.'"</p> + +<p>Curiously enough the other specialty in addition to bayonet work which +the British taught the doughboys was organized recreation. Thus a +British sergeant would take his squad from practicing the grimmest +feature of all war training and set the men to tossing beanbags or +playing leapfrog. Prisoner's base, red rover and a score of games played +in the streets of every American city were used to bring relaxation to +the soldiers. There were other rough and tumble games in which the +players buffeted<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> each other assiduously in a neutral part of the body +with knotted towels. The emphasis was put upon the ludicrous in all +these games.</p> + +<p>"This may seem childish and silly to you," said the major, "but we have +found on the line that the quickest way to bring back the spirit of a +regiment which has been battered in battle is to take the men as soon as +they come from the trenches and set them to playing these foolish little +games which they knew when they were lads. When we get them to laughing +again we know we've made them forget the fight."</p> + +<p>Mostly it wasn't play. There were long mornings and afternoons spent in +battalion problems in which the doughboys again and again captured the +position made up of the trenches Roosevelt, Taft and Wilson. One general +pointed out that communication between Roosevelt and Taft would be +necessarily difficult and between Roosevelt and Wilson all but +impossible. The doughboys overcame these difficulties as they advanced +under theoretical<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a> barrages and hurled live bombs into the trenches or +thereabouts.</p> + +<p>The last set event of the training period was a big field meet in which +picked companies competed in military events. The meet began with +musketry and worked through bayonets, hand grenades, automatic rifles, +and machine guns, ending with trench digging. It was supposed that this +would be the least exciting, but two companies came up to the last event +tied for the point trophy. Honor and a big silver trophy and everything +hung on this last event and the men could not have worked harder if they +had been under German shellfire. Partisans of both sides stood nearby +and shouted encouragement to their friends and heavy banter at the foe. +There was organized cheering and singing, too, and a couple of bands +blared while the competitors lay prone and hacked away at the tough +soil. One band played "Won't You Come and Waltz With Me?" while the +other favored "Sweet Rosie O'Grady." Neither seemed particularly +pertinent, but there wasn't much sense of the appropriate in the third +band, either, which<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a> played "Dearie," while the soldiers were stabbing +imitation Boches in the bayonet contest.</p> + +<p>The champions of the pick and shovel brushed some of the dirt off their +uniforms and lined up to receive the prize, which was a big silver salad +bowl. The best bayoneters got a sugar shaker and there were mugs and +wrist watches and plain watches and all sorts of things from the +commander and from General Sibert and General Castelnau. No sooner were +the prizes distributed than news came that the White Sox had won the +first game of the world series from the Giants and then there was more +cheering. The winning company went back to camp in a big truck loudly +and tunefully proclaiming to the natives: "We got style, all the while, +all the while."</p> + +<p>The Germans contributed one post graduate phase of training which was +not on the program. Shortly before the troops went to the front a +Zeppelin was brought down in a town within marching distance of the +American training zone. The big balloon could not have been better +placed if its landing had been directed by a Coney Island showman. It +was<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a> perched on two hills just by the side of a road and visitors came +from miles about to look at the monster. Early comers reaped a rich +harvest of souvenirs. "I only had to get three more screws loose and I'd +have had the steering wheel if a French soldier hadn't come up and +stopped me," complained an American correspondent.</p> + +<p>The chasseurs left to go back into the line before the Americans started +for the front. The departure of the chasseurs caused genuine regret, for +in addition to a profound respect for their military ability, the +American officers and men had a warm personal feeling for the troops who +taught them the first rudiments of the modern art of war. In all the +camps there were ceremonies for the soldiers who were leaving drills and +practice attacks and sham battles to go back wherever shock troops were +needed.</p> + +<p>"When you see us later on some time," said an American officer, "we hope +to make you proud of your pupils."</p> + +<p>Although the French had already given the Americans all the fundamentals +they would need they spent their last few hours in giving<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a> them some of +the fine points and a minute description of just what conditions they +might expect at the front.</p> + +<p>"When you go up there," said a French officer, "the soldiers you come to +relieve will say that you are late. They will say that they have been +waiting a long time and they will go out very quickly. Always we find +when we come in that the troops in the trench have been waiting a long +time and always they go out very quickly."</p> + +<p>As the sturdy Frenchmen marched away their cries of "bonne chance" +mingled with equally hearty shouts of "good luck."<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><br /> +<small>THE AMERICAN ARMY MARCHES TO THE TRENCHES</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> chief press officer told us that we could spend the first night in +the trenches with the American army. There were eight correspondents and +we went jingling up to the front with gas masks and steel helmets hung +about our necks and canned provisions in our pockets. It was dusk when +we left ——. Bye-and-bye we could hear the guns plainly and the villages +through which we traveled all showed their share of shelling. The front +was still a few miles ahead of us, but we left the cars in the square of +a large village and started to walk the rest of the way. We got no +further than just beyond the town. An American officer stood at the foot +of an old sign post which gave the distance to Metz, but not the +difficulties. He asked us our destination and when we told him that we +were going to spend the first<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a> night in the trenches with the American +army he wouldn't hear of it.</p> + +<p>"There'll be trouble enough up there," he said, "without newspapermen."</p> + +<p>He was a nervous man, this major. Every now and then he would look at +his watch. When he looked for the fourth time within two minutes he felt +that we deserved an explanation.</p> + +<p>"I'm a little nervous," he said, "because the Boches are so quiet +tonight. I've been up here looking around for almost a week and every +night the Germans have done some shelling." He looked at his watch +again. "The first company of my battalion must be going in now." He +stood and listened for six or seven seconds but there wasn't a sound. "I +wonder what those Germans are up to?" he continued. "I don't like it. I +wish they'd shoot a little. This business now doesn't seem natural."</p> + +<p>We turned back toward the town and left the major at his post still +listening for some sound from up there. Soon we heard a noise, but it +came from the opposite direction. Soldiers were coming. There was a bend +in the<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a> road where it straightened out in the last two miles to the +trenches. It was so dark that we could not see the men until they were +almost up to us. The Americans were marching to the front. The French +had instructed them and the British and now they were ready to learn +just what the Germans could teach them.</p> + +<p>The night was as thick as the mud. The darkness seemed to close behind +each line of men as they went by. Even the usual marching rhythm was +missing. The mud took care of that. The doughboys would have sung if +they could. Shells wouldn't have been much worse than the silence. One +soldier did begin in a low voice, "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are +marching." An officer called, "Cut out that noise." There was no tramp, +tramp, tramp on that road. Feet came down squish, squish, squish. There +was also the sound of the wind. That wasn't very cheerful, either, for +it was rising and beginning to moan a little. It seemed to get hold of +the darkness and pile it up in drifts against the camouflage screens +which lined the road.</p> + +<p>At the spot where the road turned there was<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a> a café and across the road +a military moving picture theater. The door of the café was open and a +big patch of light fell across the road. The doughboys had to go through +the patch of light and it was almost impossible not to turn a bit and +look through the door. There was red wine and white to be had for the +asking there, and persuasion would bring an omelette. The waitress was +named Marie, but they called her Madelon. She was eighteen and had black +hair with red ribbons. She could talk a little English, too, but nobody +came to the door of the café to see the soldiers go by. There had been a +good many who passed the door of that café in three years.</p> + +<p>The pictures could not be seen from the road, but we could hear the hum +of the machine which made them move. Presently, we went to the door and +looked. The theater was packed with French soldiers who were back from +the front to rest. American troops were going into the trenches for the +first time. Our little group of civilians had come thousands of miles to +see this thing, but the poilus did not stop to watch marching men. They +paid their 10 centimes<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a> and went into the picture show. They had an +American Western film that night, and French soldiers who only the day +before had been face to face with Germans, shelled and gassed and +harassed from aeroplanes, thrilled as Indians chased cowboys across a +canvas screen. It grew more exciting presently, for the United States +cavalry came riding up across the screen and at the head of the +cavalcade rode Lieutenant Wallace Kirke. The villain had spread the +story that he wasn't game, but there was nothing to that. The poilus +realized that before the film was done and so did the Indians.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the doughboys were marching by as silently as the soldiers on +the screen, for this wasn't a movie-house where they synchronized bugle +calls and rifle fire to the progress of the film. At one point in the +story there was some gun thunder, but it came at a time when the +orchestra should have been playing "Hearts and Flowers" for the love +scene in the garden. Of course, these were German guns, and they were +fired with the usual German disregard for art.</p> + +<p>Probably the men who were marching to the<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a> trenches would have enjoyed +the scene of the home-coming of the cavalry, when Lieutenant Wallace +Kirke confounded the villain, who actually held a commission as major in +the United States army. However, the doughboys might have spotted him +for a villain from the beginning, on account of his wretched saluting. +The director should have spoken to him about that.</p> + +<p>The marching men looked at the theater as they passed by, but only one +soldier spoke. He said: "I certainly would like to know for sure whether +I'll ever get to go to the movies again."</p> + +<p>They went a couple of hundred yards more without a word, and then a +soldier who couldn't stand the silence any longer shouted, "Whoopee! +Whoopee!" It was too dark to conduct an investigation and too close to +the line to administer any rebuke loud enough to be effective, and so +the nearest officer just glared in the general direction of the +offender. A little bit further on the soldiers found that the road was +pock-marked here and there with shell holes. They began to realize the +importance of silence then, for they knew that where<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a> a shell had gone +once it could go again. It was necessary to walk carefully, for the road +was covered with casual water in every hollow, and there was no seeing a +hole until you stepped in it. They managed, however, to avoid the deeper +holes and to jump most of the pools.</p> + +<p>That is, the infantry did. Late that night a teamster reported that he +had driven his four mules into a shell hole and broken the rear axle of +his wagon.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you send a man out ahead to look out for shell holes?" asked +the officer.</p> + +<p>"I did," said the soldier. "He fell in first."</p> + +<p>Presently the marching men came to the beginning of the trench system, +and they were glad to get a wall on either side of them. There was no +scramble, however, to be the first man in, and even the major of the +battalion has forgotten the name of the first soldier to set foot in the +French trenches. Some twenty or thirty men claim the honor, but it will +be difficult to settle the matter with historical accuracy. A Middle +Western farm boy, an Irishman with red hair or a German-American would +seem to fit the circumstances best, but it's all a matter<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a> of choice. As +the Americans came in the French marched out.</p> + +<p>A trench during a relief is no good place for a demonstration, but some +of the poilus paused to shake hands with the Americans. There were +rumors that one or two doughboys had been kissed, but I was unable to +substantiate these reports. Probably they are not true, for it would not +be the sort of thing a company would forget.</p> + +<p>Although the trenches for the most part were far from the German lines, +there was noise enough to attract attention over the way. The Germans +did not seem to know what was going on, but they wanted to know, and +they sent up a number of star shells. These are the shells which explode +to release a bright light suspended from a little silk parachute. These +parachutes hung in the air for several minutes and brightly illumined No +Man's Land. It was impossible to keep the Americans entirely quiet then. +Some said "Oh!" and others exclaimed "Ah!" after the manner of crowds at +a fire-works show.</p> + +<p>Persiflage of this kind helped to make the<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a> men feel at home. Indeed, +the trenches did not seem altogether unfamiliar, after all their days +and nights in the practice trenches back in camp. The men were a little +nervous, though, and took it out in smoking one cigarette after another. +They shielded the light under their trench helmets. After an hour or so +a green rocket went up and all the soldiers in the American trenches put +on their gas masks. They had been drilled for weeks in getting them on +fast and a green rocket was the signal agreed upon as the warning for an +attack. Presently the word came from the trenches that the masks were +not necessary. There had been no attack. The rocket came from the German +trenches. It was quiet then all along the short trench line with the +exception of an occasional rifle shot. The wind was making a good deal +of noise out in the mess of weeds just beyond the wire and it sounded +like Germans to some of the boys. It was clearer now and a sharp eyed +man could see the stakes of the wire. They were a bit ominous, too.</p> + +<p>"I was looking at one of those stakes," a doughboy told me, "and I kept +alooking and<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a> alooking and all of a sudden it grew a pair of shoulders +and a helmet and I let go at it."</p> + +<p>There were others who suffered from the same optical illusion that +night, but let it be said to their credit that when a working party +examined the wire several days later they found some stakes which had +been riddled through and through with bullets.<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><br /> +<small>TRENCH LIFE</small></h2> + +<p>T<small>HEY</small> dragged the gun up by hand to fire the first shot in the war for +the American army. The lieutenant in charge of the battery told us about +it. He was standing on top of the gun emplacement and the historic +seventy-five and a few others were being used every little while to fire +other shots at the German lines. He had to pause, therefore, now and +then in telling us history to make a little more.</p> + +<p>"I put it up to my men," said the lieutenant, "that we would have to +wait a little for the horses and if we wanted to be sure of firing the +first shot it would be a good stunt to drag the gun into place +ourselves. We had a little talk and everybody was anxious for our +battery to get in the first shot, so we decided to go through with it +and not wait for the horses. We dragged the gun up at night and I can +tell you that the last mile and a half took some pulling.<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> Excuse me a +second——" He leaned down to the pit and began to shout figures. He +made them quick and snappy like a football signal and he looked exactly +like a quarterback with the tin hat on his head which might have been a +leather head guard. There was a sort of eagerness about him, too, as if +the ball was on the five-yard line with one minute more to play. It was +all in his manner. Everything he said was professional enough. After the +string of figures he shouted "watch your bubble" and then he went on +with the story.</p> + +<p>"We fired the first shot at exactly six twenty-seven in the morning," he +said. "It was a shrapnel shell." He turned to the gunners again. "Ready +to fire," he shouted down to the men in the pit. "You needn't put your +fingers in your ears just yet," he told us.</p> + +<p>"It was pretty foggy when we got up to the front and we thought first +we'd just have to blaze away in the general direction of the Germans +without any particular observation. But all of a sudden the fog lifted +and right from here we could see a bunch of Germans out fixing their +wire. I gave 'em shrapnel and they<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> scattered back to their dugouts like +prairie dogs. It was great!"</p> + +<p>The lieutenant smiled at the recollection of the adventure. It meant as +much to him as a sixty-yard run in the Princeton game or a touchdown +against Yale. He was fortunate enough to be still getting a tingle out +of the war that had nothing to do with the cold wind that was coming +over No Man's Land. A moment later he grinned again and he suddenly +called, "Fire," and the roar of the gun under our feet came quicker than +we could get our fingers in our ears.</p> + +<p>The gun had earned a rest now and we went down and looked at it. The +gunners had chalked a name on the carriage and we found that this +seventy-five which fired the first shot against the Germans was called +Heinie. We wanted to know the name of the man who fired the first shot. +Our consciences were troubling us about that. This was our first day up +with the guns in the American sector and the men had been in two days. +There were drawbacks in writing the war correspondence from a distance +as we had been compelled to do up to<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> this time. We'd heard, of course, +that the first gun had been fired and that made it imperative that the +story should be "reconstructed," as the modern newspaperman says when +he's writing about something which he didn't see. Of course, everybody +back home would want to know who fired the first shot. Censorship +prevented the use of the name, but we couldn't blame the censors for +that, because when we wrote the stories we didn't know his name or +anything about him. With just one dissenting vote the correspondents +decided that the man who fired the first shot must have been a +red-headed Irishman. And so it was cabled. Now we wanted to know whether +he was.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant told us the name, but that didn't settle the question. It +was a more or less non-committal name and the officer volunteered to +find out for us. He led the party over to the mouth of another dugout +and called down: "Sergeant ——, there's some newspapermen here and they +want to know whether you're Irish."</p> + +<p>Immediately there was a scrambling noise<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a> down in the dugout and up came +the gunner on the run. "I am not," he said.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you got an Irish father or mother or aren't any of your people +Irish?" asked one of the correspondents hopefully. He was committed to +the red-headed story and he was not prepared to give up yet. "Not one of +'em," said the sergeant, "I haven't got a drop of Irish blood in me. I +come from South Bend, Indiana."</p> + +<p>The party left the gunner rather disconsolately. That is, all but the +hopeful correspondent. "He's Irish, all right," he said. We turned on +the optimist.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you hear him say he wasn't Irish?" we shouted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," answered the optimist, "you didn't expect he was +going to admit it. They never do."</p> + +<p>"Say," inquired another reporter, "did anybody notice what was the color +of the sergeant's hair?"</p> + +<p>I had, but I said nothing. There had been disillusion enough for one +day. It was black with a little gray around the temples.<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a></p> + +<p>The lieutenant took us to his dugout and we tried to get some copy out +of him. A man from an evening newspaper spoiled our chances right away.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said, "that you made a little speech to the men before +they fired that first shot?"</p> + +<p>The little lieutenant was professional in an instant. He felt a sudden +fear that his manner or his youth had led us to picture him as a +romantic figure.</p> + +<p>"What would I make a speech for?" he inquired coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the reporter, "I should think you'd want to say something. +You were going to fire the first shot of the war, and more than that, +you were going to fire the first shot in anger which the American army +has ever fired in Europe. Of course, I didn't mean a speech exactly, but +you must have said something."</p> + +<p>"No," answered the officer, "I just gave 'em the range and then I said +'ready to fire' and then, 'fire.' It was just like this afternoon. We +made it perfectly regular."<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a></p> + +<p>"In the army a thing like that's just part of the day's work," the +lieutenant added, with an attempted assumption of great sophistication +in regard to war matters, as if this was at least his twentieth +campaign.</p> + +<p>And yet I think that if we had heard our little quarterback give his +order at six twenty-seven on that misty morning there would have been +something in his voice when he said "fire" which would have betrayed him +to us. I think it must have been a little sharper, a little faster and a +little louder for this first shot than it will be when he calls "fire" +for the thousand-and-tenth round.</p> + +<p>The guns had decided to call it a day by this time and so we headed for +the trenches. We had to travel across a big bare stretch of country +which was wind-swept and rain-soaked on this particular afternoon. Every +now and then somebody fell into a shell hole, for the meadow was well +slashed up, although there didn't seem to be anything much to shoot at. +On the whole, the sector chosen for the first Americans in the trenches +might well be called a quiet front. There was shelling back and forth +each day,<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> but many places were immune. Some villages just back of the +French lines had not been fired at for almost a year, although they were +within easy range of field pieces, and the French in return didn't fire +at villages in the German lines. This was by tacit agreement. Both sides +had held the lines in this part of the country lightly and both sides +were content to sit tight and not stir up trouble.</p> + +<p>Things livened up after the Americans came in because the Germans soon +found out that new troops were opposing them and they wanted to identify +the units. Some of the increasing liveliness was also due to the fact +that American gunners were anxious to get practice and fired much more +than the French had done. Indeed, an American officer earned a rebuke +from his superiors because he fired into a German village which had been +hitherto immune. This was a mistake, for the Germans immediately +retaliated by shelling a French village and the civilian population was +forced to move out. For more than a year they had lived close to the +battle lines in comparative safety. On the night the American troops<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a> +moved in to the trenches a baby was born in a village less than a mile +from one of our battalion headquarters. Major General Sibert became her +godfather and the child was christened Unis in honor of Les Etats Unis.</p> + +<p>The increase in artillery activity had hardly begun on the day we paid +our visit. No German shells fell near us as we crossed the meadow, but +when we reached a battalion headquarters the major in charge pointed +with pride to a German shell which had landed on top of his kitchen that +morning. The rain had played him a good service, for the shell simply +buried itself, fragments and all. He did not seem properly appreciative +of the weather. "All Gaul," he said, "is divided into three parts and +two of them are water."</p> + +<p>Still, we found ourselves drier in the trenches than out of them. They +were floored with boards and well lined. As trenches go they were good, +but, of course, that isn't saying a great deal. We were the first +newspapermen to enter the American trenches and so we wanted to see the +first line, although it was growing dark. We wound around and around<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a> +for many yards and it was hard walking for some of us, as the French had +built these trenches for short men. It was necessary to walk with a +crouch like an Indian on the movie warpath. This was according to +instructions, but we may have been unduly cautious, for not a hostile +shot was fired while we were in the first line. It was barely possible +to see the German trenches through the mist and still more difficult to +realize that there was a menace in the untidy welts of mud which lay at +the other side of the meadow. But the point from which we looked across +to the German line was the very salient where the Germans made their +first raid a week later and captured twelve men, killed three, and +wounded five.</p> + +<p>The doughboys wouldn't let us go without pointing out all the sights. To +the right was the apple tree. Here the Germans used to come on Mondays, +Wednesdays and Fridays and the French on Tuesdays, Thursdays and +Saturdays, and gather fruit without molestation so long as not more than +two came at a time. This was another tacit agreement in this quiet +front, for the tree was in easy rifle range.<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> One of the doughboys +unwittingly broke that custom by taking a shot at two Germans who went +to get apples.</p> + +<p>"I like apples myself," he said, "and I just couldn't lie still and +watch a squarehead carry them away by the armful."</p> + +<p>The Hindenburg Rathskeller lay to the left of our trench, but it was +only dimly visible through the rain. This battered building was once a +tiny roadside café. Now patrols take shelter behind its walls at night +and try to find cheer in the room where only a few broken bottles +remain. The poilus maintain that on dark nights the ghosts of cognac, of +burgundy and even champagne flit about in and out of the broken windows +and that a lucky soldier may sometimes detect, by an inner warmth and +tingle, the ghost of some drink that is gone. Sometimes it is a German +patrol which spends the night in No Man's Café. It is more or less a +custom to allow whichever side gets to the café first to hold it for the +night, since it is a strong defensive position in the dark. The night +before our visit an American patrol reached the café and found that the +Germans<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a> who had been there the night before had placed above the +shattered door of the little inn a sign which read: "Hindenburg +Rathskeller." Silently but swiftly one of the doughboys scratched out +the name with a pencil and left a sign of his own. When next the Germans +came they found that Hindenburg Rathskeller had become the Baltimore +Dairy Lunch.</p> + +<p>Several hundred yards behind the Baltimore Dairy Lunch is another ruined +house and it was here that the Americans killed their first German. Even +on clear days Germans in groups of not more than two would sometimes +come from their trenches to the house. The French thought that they had +a machine gun there, but it was not worth while to waste shells on +parties of one or two and as the range was almost 1700 yards the Germans +felt comparatively immune from rifle fire. Two doughboys saw a German +walking along the road one bright morning and as they had telescopic +sights on their rifles they were anxious to try a shot. One of the men +was a sergeant and the other a corporal.</p> + +<p>"That's my German," said the sergeant.<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a></p> + +<p>"I saw him first," objected the corporal, and so they agreed to count +five and then fire together. One or both of them hit him, for down he +came.</p> + +<p>When we got back to the second line the men were having supper. The food +supplied to the soldiers in the trenches was hot and adequate and +moderately abundant. A few of the men complained that they got only two +meals a day, but I found that there was an early ration of coffee and +bread which these soldiers did not count as enough of a breakfast to be +mentioned as a meal. This comes at dawn and then there are meals at +about eleven and five. One of the men with whom I talked was mournful.</p> + +<p>"We don't get anything much but slum," he said, when I asked him, "How's +the food?" That did not sound appetizing until I found out that slum was +a stew made of beef and potatoes and carrots and lots of onions. We ate +some and it was very good, but perhaps it does pall a little after the +third or fourth day. It forms the main staple of army diet in the +trenches, for it is not possible to give the men in the line any great +variety of food. The most<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a> tragic story in connection with food which we +heard concerned a company which was just beginning dinner when a gas +alarm was sounded. The men had been carefully trained to drop everything +and adjust their masks when this alarm was sounded. So down went their +mess tins, spilling slum on the trench floor as the masks were quickly +fastened. Five minutes later word came that the gas alarm was a mistake.</p> + +<p>Before we left we saw a patrol start out. The doughboys took to +patrolling eagerly and officers who asked for volunteers were always +swamped with requests from men who wanted to go. One lieutenant was +surprised to have a large fat cook come to him to say that he would not +be happy unless allowed to make a trip across No Man's Land to the +German wire. When the officer asked him why he was so anxious to go, he +said: "Well, you see, I promised to get a German helmet and an overcoat +for a girl for Christmas and I haven't got much time left."</p> + +<p>It was dark when we left the trenches and started cross country. The +German guns had<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a> begun to fire a little. They were spasmodically +shelling a clump of woods half a mile away and seemed indifferent to +correspondents. But by this time the weather was actively hostile. The +rain had changed to snow and the wind had risen to a gale. Every shell +hole had become a trap to catch the unwary and wet him to the waist. +Little brooks were carrying on like rivers and amateur lakes were +everywhere. We walked and walked and suddenly the French lieutenant who +was guiding us paused and explained that he hadn't the least idea where +we were. Nothing could be seen through the driving snow and there was no +certainty that we hadn't turned completely around. We wondered if there +were any gaps in the wire and if it would be possible to walk into the +German lines by mistake. We also wondered whether the Kaiser's three +hundred marks for the first American would stand if the prisoner was +only a reporter. Just then there was a sudden sharp rift in the mist +ahead of us. A big flash cut through the snow and fog and after a second +we heard a bang behind us.</p> + +<p>"Those are American guns," said our guide,<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a> and we made for them. We +were lost again once or twice, but each time we just stood and waited +for the flash from the battery until we reached our base. Shortly after +we arrived the shelling ceased. There was hardly a warlike sound. It was +a quiet night on a tranquil front. The weather was too bad even for +fighting.</p> + +<p>We went to the hospital in the little town and were allowed to look at +the first German prisoner. He was a pretty sick boy when we saw him. He +gave his age when examined as nineteen, but he looked younger and not +very dangerous, for he was just coming out of the ether. The American +doctors were giving him the best of care. He had a room to himself and +his own nurse. The doughboys had captured him close to the American +wire. There had been great rivalry as to which company would get the +first prisoner, but he came almost unsought. The patrol was back to its +own wire when the soldiers heard the noise of somebody moving about to +the left. He was making no effort to walk quietly. As he came over a +little hillock his outline could be seen for a second<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a> and one of the +Americans called out to him to halt. He turned and started to run, but a +doughboy fired and hit him in the leg and another soldier's bullet came +through his back. The patrol carried the prisoner to the trench. He +seemed much more dazed by surprise than by the pain of his wounds. +"You're not French," he said several times as the curious Americans +gathered about him in a close, dim circle illuminated by pocket flash +lamps. The prisoner next guessed that they were English and when the +soldiers told him that they were Americans he said that he and his +comrades did not know that Americans were in the line opposite them. +Somebody gave him a cigarette and he grew more chipper in spite of his +wounds. He began to talk, saying: "Ich bin ein esel."</p> + +<p>There were several Americans who had enough German for that and they +asked him why. The prisoner explained that he had been assigned to +deliver letters to the soldiers. Some of the letters were for men in a +distant trench which slanted toward the French line, and so to save time +he had taken a short cut through<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a> No Man's Land. It was a dark night but +he thought he knew the way. He kept bearing to the left. Now, he said, +he knew he should have turned to the right. He said it would be a lesson +to him. The next morning we heard that the German had died and would be +buried with full military honors.</p> + +<p>There was another patient whom we were interested in seeing. Lieutenant +Devere H. Harden was the first American officer wounded in the war. His +wound was not a very bad one and the doctors allowed us to crowd about +his bed and ask questions. In spite of the British saying, "you never +hear a shell that hits you," Harden said he both saw and heard his +particular shell. He thought it would have scored a direct hit on his +head if he had not fallen flat. As it was the projectile exploded almost +fifty feet away from him and his wound was caused by a fragment which +flew back and lodged behind his knee. He did not know that he had been +hit, but sought shelter in a dugout. Just as he got to the door he felt +a pain in his knee and fell over. He noticed then that his leg was +bleeding a little. A French officer<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> ran over to him and said: "You are +a very lucky man."</p> + +<p>"How is that?" asked Harden.</p> + +<p>"Why, you're the first American to be wounded and I'm going to recommend +to the general that he put up a tablet right here with your name on it +and the date and 'first American to shed his blood for France.'"</p> + +<p>The thought of the tablet didn't cheer the lieutenant up half so much as +when we prevailed on the doctors to let him take some cigarettes from us +and begin smoking again. By this time we had almost forgotten about the +slum of earlier in the evening and so we stopped at the first café we +came to on the road back to the correspondents' headquarters. Several +American soldiers were sitting around a small stove in the kitchen, and +although they said nothing, an old woman was cooking omelettes and small +steaks and distributing them about to the rightful owners without the +slightest mistake. At least there were no complaints. Perhaps the +doughboys were afraid of the old woman for whenever one of them got in +her way she would say nothing<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a> but push him violently in the chest with +both hands. He would then step back and the cooking would go on.</p> + +<p>Presently a noisy soldier came roaring into the kitchen. It took him +just half a minute to get acquainted and about that much more time to +tell us that he was driving a four mule team with rations. We asked him +if he had gotten near the front and he snorted scornfully. He told us +that the night before he had almost driven into the German lines. +According to his story, he lost his way in the dark and drove past the +third line trench, the second line and the first line and started +rumbling along an old road which cut straight across No Man's Land and +into the German lines.</p> + +<p>"I was going along," he said, "and a doughboy out in a listening post, I +guess it must have been, jumped up and waved both his hands at me to go +back. 'What's the matter?' I asked him, just natural, like I'm talking +to you, and he just mumbles at me. 'You're going right toward the German +lines,' he says.<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a> 'For God's sake turn round and go back and don't speak +above a whisper.'</p> + +<p>"'Whisper, Hell!' I says to him, kind of mad, 'I gotta turn four mules +around.'"<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><br /> +<small>THE VETERANS RETURN</small></h2> + +<p>W<small>HEN</small> the first contingent of doughboys came out of the trenches I went +to a French officer whom I knew well and asked him what he thought of +the Americans.</p> + +<p>"Remember," I told him, "I don't want you to dress up an opinion for me. +Tell me what you really thought of our men when you saw them up there. +What did the French say about them?"</p> + +<p>"Truly, I think they are very good," the Frenchman told me. Then he +corrected himself. "I mean I think they will be very good. They are +something like the Canadians. They were pretty jumpy at first, but that +doesn't do any harm. The soldiers up there, they wanted to fire when the +grass was moving and they did sometimes, without getting any orders. +They got over that pretty soon. By the third night<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a> they were pretty +well settled. Of course, they can shoot better than our men and they are +bigger and stronger, but in some things we have the advantage. You +Americans are much more excitable than we French."</p> + +<p>As a rule French and British officers were inclined to be optimistic +about the Americans. They were impressed by their physique. The first of +the Canadians were probably a little huskier than the Americans and the +early contingents of Australians and New Zealanders were at least as +good, but now all the rest are falling off in their physical standards +on account of losses, while the most recent American arrivals in France +are better than any of our earlier contingents.</p> + +<p>The American is potentially a good soldier, but it is a long cry of +preëminence. Any nation which establishes itself as the best in the +field will have to perform marvelous deeds. The chances are that nobody +will touch the high water mark of the French. After all, in her finest +moments, France has a positive genius for warfare. Her best troops +possess a combination of patience in defense and dash<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a> in attack. France +has a fighting tradition which we do not possess. We must gain that +before we can rival her.</p> + +<p>From the point of view of the newspaperman the Frenchman is the ideal +soldier of the world. Not only can he fight, but he can tell you about +it. There is no trouble in getting a poilu to talk. He has opinions on +every subject under the sun. The only difficulty is in understanding him +once you have got him started. The doughboys, on the other hand, are +usually reticent. They're always afraid of being detected in some +sentimental or heroic pose and so they adopt a belittling attitude +toward anything which happens as protection. The first men who came back +from the trenches were not quite like that. These doughboys were more +like Rossetti's angels. "The wonder was not yet quite gone from that +still look" of theirs.</p> + +<p>They did not minimize their experiences. I think I understand now what +Secretary Baker meant when he said that some of the most thrilling +stories of the war would come in letters from the soldiers. We went to +the major<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a> of a battalion which had just come back from the front to its +billets.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing much happened while we were up there," he said. "They +didn't shell us very hard; they didn't try any raids or any gas and the +aeroplanes let us alone."</p> + +<p>Then we tried the soldiers. "Yes, sir, we certainly did see some +aeroplanes," said a doughboy. "Why, one day there was two hundred and +twenty-five flew over my head. I think the French brought down twenty of +them, but I didn't see that." Another told how two hundred and fifty +Germans had started to attack the Americans. "Our artillery put a +barrage on them and in a couple of minutes all but three of them were +dead."</p> + +<p>"Did you see those Germans yourself?" we asked him sternly.</p> + +<p>"No," he admitted, "it was a little bit down to our left but I heard +about it."</p> + +<p>There were other stories which may have grown in the telling, but they +sounded more plausible. One concerned a soldier who had his hyphen shot +away at the front. This man was of German parentage and his father was<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> +in the German army. Before he went to the trenches he used to dwell on +what a terrible thing it was for him to be fighting against his father +and Fatherland. He declared that if it were possible he was going to +play a passive part in the war. But in the course of time he went into +the first line and no sooner was he in than he peeked over the top to +have a look at the folks from the old home. "Pat, pat, pat!" a stream of +bullets from a machine gun went by his head. The German-American gave a +grunt of surprise and then a yell of rage and jumped over the parapet +and began firing his rifle in the direction of the machine gun. He must +have made a lucky hit for by some chance or other the machine gun ceased +firing and the doughboy crawled back into the trench unharmed. He was +still mad and kept mumbling, "I didn't do anything but look at 'em and +they went and shot at me."</p> + +<p>A story better authenticated concerns a visit which General Pershing +paid to the trenches. A young captain took his responsibilities much to +heart and wanted to leave nothing to his subordinates. He was on the<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a> +rush constantly from one point to another and at the end of fifty-two +hours of unceasing toil he went to his dugout to get three hours' sleep. +He had hardly started to snore when there was a knock and a doughboy +came in to complain that he had sore feet and what should he do. A few +minutes later it was another who wanted to know where he could get +additional candles. Rid of him, the captain really began to sleep, only +to be awakened by a knock at the door and a voice, "Is this the company +commander?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the irritated captain, "and what the hell do you want?"</p> + +<p>The door opened and the strictest disciplinarian in the American army +permitted himself the shadow of a smile. "I'm General Pershing," he +said.</p> + +<p>One battalion came back from the front with an additional member. He was +a large dog of uncertain breed who had deserted from the German lines. +At least it was hard to say whether he belonged to the German army or +the French. The French first saw him one afternoon when he came +lumbering across No<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> Man's Land and pushed himself through the wire in a +place where it had grown a bit slack. One French soldier fired at him. +The poilu thought it might be a new trick of the Germans. For all he +knew a couple of Boches might have been concealed inside the big hound. +He was no marksman, this soldier, for he missed the dog who promptly +turned sharply to the left and came in at another point in the trenches. +The soldiers made him welcome although there was some discussion as to +what his nationality might be. It was evident that he had come across +from the German lines, but it was possible that he was a French dog +captured in one of the villages which fell to the invaders. The men in +the front line tried him with all the German they knew—"You German +pig," "what's your regiment?" "damn the Kaiser," "to Berlin," and a few +others. He indicated no understanding of the phrases. Later he was taken +further back and examined at length by an intelligence officer but no +single German word could be found which he seemed to recognize. On the +other hand it was ascertained that he<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> was equally ignorant of French. +However, he understood signs, would bark for a bone and never missed an +invitation to eat.</p> + +<p>During the first week of his stay the soldiers were generous in giving +him a share of their rations. Later he became an old friend and did not +fare so well. One night he disappeared and an outpost saw him lumbering +back to the German lines. The Boches were out on patrol that night and +apparently the big dog reached their lines without being fired upon. He +was gone three weeks and then he returned for a long stay with the +French. So it went on. He never affiliated himself permanently with +either army and he never gave away secrets. Possibly his coming gave +some sign of declining morale across the way for when the men became +cross and testy the big dog simply changed sides. There was never any +indication that he had been underfed even when rumors were strongest +about the food shortage in Germany. The Boches took a pride in belying +these stories, as best they could, by keeping the hound sleek and fat.</p> + +<p>The French called him Quatre Cent Vingt<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> after the big gun but nobody +knew for certain his German alias. Once when he left the German lines in +broad daylight the Boches all along the line were heard whistling for +him to come back, but no one called him by name. The French chose to +believe that across the way he was known as "Kamerad," but there was no +evidence on this point. It is true that he would stand on his hind legs +and wave his paws when anybody said "Kamerad," but this was a trick and +took teaching.</p> + +<p>He must have heard somehow or other about the coming of the Americans +for he left the Germans at noon one day when the doughboys had hardly +become settled in their new home. A French interpreter vouched for him +and he was allowed free access to third line, second line, first line +and, what he valued much more, to the company kitchen. Here for the +first time he tasted slum. Soldiers are fond of belittling this +combination of beef, onions, potatoes and carrots but Quatre Cent Vingt +was frank in his admiration of the dish. Naturally, free-born American +citizens could not be expected to know him by his outlandish<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a> French +name or any abbreviation of it and he became Big Ed in honor of the mess +sergeant. Hitherto Quatre Cent Vingt had been careful to show no favors. +He had been the company's dog but he became so distinctly partial to the +mess sergeant that the soldier took him over as his own and when the +company went away Quatre Cent Vingt went too, following closely behind a +rolling kitchen.</p> + +<p>The experience in the trenches made American soldiers a little more +expressive than they had been before but the national character remained +baffling. As a nation we unquestionably have personality but our army is +somewhat lacking in this quality even among its leaders. Pershing is a +personality, of course, and Bullard and Sibert and March, but for the +rest all major generals seemed much alike to us. Sibert we remembered +because he was a quiet, kindly man who got the things he wanted without +much fuss. He was among the thinkers of the army. Mostly he was +listening to other people, but when he talked he wasted no words. +Undoubtedly he was one of the best loved men in the army for he combined +with<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a> his efficiency and his kindliness an occasional playful flash of +humor. I remember a visit which three American newspaperwomen paid to +him one day at his headquarters. The conversation had scarcely begun +when one of the women somewhat tactlessly remarked, "General, this is a +young man's war, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>General Sibert is husky enough but he is a bit gray and he smiled +quizzically as he looked at his questioner over the top of a big pair of +horn-rimmed glasses.</p> + +<p>"When I was a cadet at West Point," said General Sibert, "I used to +console myself with the thought that Napoleon was winning battles when +he was thirty. Now, I find that my mind dwells more on the fact that +Hindenburg is seventy."</p> + +<p>Robert H. Bullard is probably the most picturesque figure in the +American army. He has a reputation as a fighter and a daredevil and he +is still one of the best polo players and broadsword experts in the +American army. They say that when a second lieutenant swore at him one +day in the heat of a game he made no complaint but laid for the young +man later<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a> on and sent him sprawling off his horse in a wild scrimmage. +He will fight broadsword duels with anybody regardless of rank if his +opponent promises to be a man who can test his mettle. And yet it was a +bit surprising that when the command of one of the crack divisions in +France was open, General Pershing chose Bullard for the command because +Major General Robert H. Bullard is perhaps the worst dressed major +general in the American army. A poilu in one of the provincial cities +mistook him for an American enlisted man and talked to him with great +freedom for more than half an hour before an excited French officer +rushed up and told him that the man with whom he was talking so +familiarly was an American general.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," said Bullard, "I wanted to hear what he had to +say. Come around to my headquarters sometime and tell me some more."</p> + +<p>On another occasion I saw an American captain suffer acutely because +Bullard appeared at a public Franco-American function with two days' +growth of beard. "What kind<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a> of an aide can he have," moaned the +captain. "I was on his staff for two years and I never let him come out +like that. I always had him fixed up when there was anything important +on."</p> + +<p>Tall, spare, hawk-featured and straight, Bullard represents a type of +officer who has a large part to play in the American army. It is around +such men that tradition grows and tradition is the marrow of an army. It +was Bullard, too, who gave the best expression to the hope and purpose +of the American army which I heard in France. He had said that what the +American army must always maintain as its most important asset was the +offensive spirit and when we asked him just what that was he lapsed into +a story which was always his favorite device for exposition.</p> + +<p>"There was once a Spanish farmer," said General Bullard, "who lived in a +small house in the country with his pious wife. One day he came rushing +out of the house with a valise in his hand and his good wife stopped him +and asked, 'Where are you going?' 'I'm going to Seville,' said the +farmer bustling right past<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a> her. 'You mean God willing,' suggested his +pious wife. 'No,' replied the farmer, 'I just mean that I'm going.'</p> + +<p>"The Lord was angered by this impiety and He promptly changed the farmer +into a frog. His wife could tell that it was her husband all right +because he was bigger than any of the other frogs and more noisy. She +went to the edge of the pond every day and prayed that her husband might +be forgiven. And one morning—it was the first day of the second +year—the big frog suddenly began to swell and get bigger and bigger +until he wasn't a frog any more, but a man. And he hopped out of the +pond and stood on the bank beside his wife. Without stopping to kiss her +or thank her or anything he ran straight into the house and came out +with a valise in his hand.</p> + +<p>"'Where are you going?' his wife asked in terror.</p> + +<p>"'To Seville,' he said.</p> + +<p>"She wrung her hands. 'You mean God willing,' she cried.</p> + +<p>"'No,' thundered the farmer, 'to Seville or back to the frog pond!'"<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a></p> + +<p>In the main, however, American officers and soldiers were not very +successful in expressing their feelings and ideals in regard to the war. +One of the Y. M. C. A. huts carried on an anonymous symposium on the +subject "Why I joined the army." Only a few of the answers came from the +heart. Most of the rest were of two types. One sort was swanking and +swaggering, in which the writer unconsciously melodramatized himself, +and the other was cynical, in which the writer betrayed the fact that he +was afraid of being melodramatic. Thus there was one man who answered, +"To fight for my country, the good old United States, the land of the +free and the starry flag that I love so well." "Because I was crazy," +wrote another and it is probable that neither reason really represented +the exact feeling of the man in question.</p> + +<p>Some were distinctly utilitarian such as that of the soldier who wrote +"To improve my mind by visiting the famous churches and art galleries of +the old world." There was also a simplicity and directness in "to put +Malden on the map." But the two which seemed to<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> be the truest of all +were, "Because they said I wasn't game and I am too" and "Because she'll +be sorry when she sees my name in the list of the fellows that got +killed."</p> + +<p>For a time I was all muddled up about the American reaction to the war. +Sometimes we seemed helplessly provincial and then along would come some +glorious unhelpless assertiveness. This would probably be in something +to do with plumbing or doctoring. Even our friends in Europe are +inclined to put us down as materialists. They think we love money more +than anything else in the world. I don't believe this is true. I think +we use money only as a symbol and that even if we don't express them, or +if we express them badly, the American who fights has not forgotten to +pack his ideals. A young American officer brought that home to me one +day in Paris. He was a doctor from a thriving factory town upstate.</p> + +<p>"You know," he began, "this war is costing me thousands of dollars. I +was getting along great back home. A lot of factories had me for their +doctor. My practice was worth $15,000 a year. It was all paid up, too, +you<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> know, workman's compensation stuff. I'll bet it won't be worth a +nickel when I get back."</p> + +<p>He sat and drummed on the table and looked out on the street and a +couple of Portuguese went by in their slate gray uniforms and then some +Russians, with their marvelous tunics, which Bakst might have designed; +there were French aviators in black and red, and rollicking Australians, +an Italian, looking glum, and a Roumanian with a girl on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever read 'Ivanhoe'?" said the man with the $15,000 practice, +fiercely and suddenly.</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "when I was a boy I read that book five times. I +thought it was the greatest book in the world, and I guess it is, and +all this reminds me of 'Ivanhoe.'"</p> + +<p>"Of 'Ivanhoe'?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you know, all this," and he made an expansive gesture, "Verdun, +and Joffre, and 'they shall not pass,' and Napoleon's tomb, and war +bread, and all the men with medals<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> and everything. Great stuff! +There'll never be anything like it in the world again. I tell you it's +better than 'Ivanhoe.' Everything's happening and I'm in it. I'm in a +little of it, anyway. And if I have a chance to get in something big I +don't care what happens. No, sir, if I could just help to give the old +Boche a good wallop I wouldn't care if I never got back. Why, I wouldn't +miss this for ——" His eyes were sparkling with excitement now and he +was straining for adequate expression. He brought his fist down on the +table until the glasses rattled. "I wouldn't miss this for $50,000 +cash," he said.<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cb"><i>True Stories of the War</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="nind"><b>MEN, WOMEN AND WAR</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> W<small>ILL</small> I<small>RWIN</small>, <i>author of "The Latin at War.</i>"</p> + +<p class="adz">With the inquisitiveness of the reporter and the pen of an artist in +words the author has in this book given us the human side of an inhuman +war. He saw and understood the implacable German war machine; the +Belgian fighting for his homeland; the regenerated French defending +their country against the invader, and the imperturbable English, +determined to maintain their honor even if the empire was threatened.</p> + +<p class="adz">"The splendid story of Ypres is the fullest outline of that battle that +the present reviewer has seen. Mr. Irwin's book is all the better for +not having been long. It has no dull pages."—<i>The New York Times</i>.</p> + +<p class="c">$1.10 <i>net</i></p> + +<p class="nind"><b>THE LATIN AT WAR</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> W<small>ILL</small> I<small>RWIN</small>, <i>author of "Men, Women and War.</i>"</p> + +<p class="adz">No correspondent "at the front" has found more stories of human interest +than has Mr. Irwin. In this book he has set forth his experiences and +observations in France and Italy during the year 1917, and discusses the +social and economic conditions as seen through the eyes of civilians and +soldiers he interviewed.</p> + +<p class="adz">"He makes you visualise while you read, because he visualized while he +wrote."—<i>The Outlook</i>, New York.</p> + +<p class="adz">"It is a fascinating volume throughout; the more so because of the +writer's unfailing sense of humor, of pathos, and of sympathy with human +nature in all its phases and experiences."—<i>The New York Tribune</i>.</p> + +<p class="c">$1.75 <i>net</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="c">THESE ARE APPLETON BOOKS</p> + +<p class="c"><a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.... NEW YORK</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="cb"><i><b>Important War Books</b></i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="nind"><b>UNDER FOUR FLAGS FOR FRANCE</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> <span class="smcap">Captain George Clarke Musgrave</span></p> + +<p class="adz">What Captain Musgrave saw as an observer on the Western front since 1914 +is precisely what every American wants to know. He tells the story of +the war to date, in simple, narrative form, intensely interesting and +remarkably informative. If you want a true picture of all that has +happened, and of the situation as it exists today, you will find it in +this book.</p> + +<p class="c"><i>Illustrated</i>, $2.00 <i>net</i></p> + +<p class="nind"><b>TO BAGDAD WITH THE BRITISH</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> <span class="smcap">Arthur T. Clark</span></p> + +<p class="adz">Here is the first accurate account of the thrilling campaign in +Mesopotamia. The author was a member of the British Expeditionary Forces +and saw the wild rout of the Turks from Kut-el-Amara to Bagdad. His book +brings home the absorbing story of this important part of the war, and +shows the real soldier Tommy Atkins is.</p> + +<p class="c"><i>Illustrated</i>, $1.50 <i>net</i></p> + +<p class="nind"><b>OUT THERE</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> <span class="smcap">Charles W. Whitehair</span></p> + +<p class="adz">This is a story by a Y.M.C.A. worker, who has seen service at the front +with the English and French soldiers, in Egypt, Flanders, England and +Scotland and who has witnessed some of the greatest battles of the +present war.</p> + +<p class="c"><i>Illustrated</i>, $1.50 <i>net</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="c">THESE ARE APPLETON BOOKS <a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.... NEW YORK</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="cb"><i><b>Important War Books</b></i></p> + +<p class="nind"><b>AMERICAN WOMEN AND THE WORLD WAR</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> <span class="smcap">Ida Clyde Clarke</span></p> + +<p class="adz">This is a splendid story, brimming with interest, telling how the women +of America mobilized and organised almost over night, what they have +accomplished and the work of the various women's organizations. Every +woman can derive from it inspiration and information of particular value +to these times.</p> + +<p class="c">$2.00 <i>net</i></p> + +<p class="nind"><b>GREAT BRITAIN'S PART</b></p> + +<p class="adz">B<small>Y</small> <span class="smcap">Paul D. Cravath</span></p> + +<p class="adz">In brief compass the author tells what Great Britain has done and is +doing to help win the great war. The book is unique among war books +because it is a story of organization rather than of battle front scenes +and is a side of the war few other writers have more than touched upon. +"It would be difficult to make language clearer or more effective.... It +is a veritable pistol shot of alluring information."—<i>The Christian +Intelligencer</i>, <i>New York</i>.</p> + +<p class="c">$1.00 <i>net</i></p> + +<p class="nind"><b>OUT OF THEIR OWN MOUTHS</b></p> + +<p>With an introduction by <span class="smcap">William Roscoe Thayer</span></p> + +<p class="adz">To prove conclusively the identity of the aggressors in the great war, +and their ultimate aims this book has been prepared from the official +documents, speeches, letters and hundreds of unofficial statements of +German leaders. With few exceptions, the extracts included in this +collection are taken directly from the German.</p> + +<p class="adz">"It is the most comprehensive collection of this character that has yet +appeared."—<i>The Springfield Union</i>.</p> + +<p class="c">$1.00 <i>net</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="c">THESE ARE APPLETON BOOKS <a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.... NEW YORK</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" +style="border:2px dotted black;padding:2%;"> +<tr><th align="center">These typographical errors were corrected by the etext transcriber:</th></tr> +<tr><td>The corspondent=>The correspondent</td></tr> +<tr><td>it was passible to see the projectile in flight=>it was possible to see the projectile in flight</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/back_lg.jpg"> +<img src="images/back_sml.jpg" width="367" height="550" alt="image of the book's back cover" title="image of the book's back cover" /></a> +</p> + +<hr class="full-1" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The A.E.F., by Heywood Broun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE A.E.F. *** + +***** This file should be named 39072-h.htm or 39072-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/0/7/39072/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Internet Archive.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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