On Election Day, Tuesday November 3rd, 1914, we left New York, from the South Brooklyn basin, on “the good ship” Orcadian with a cargo of six hundred and fifty horses for the use of the French army. There were twenty-five men, including my chum Larney and myself, who had not previously worked on ships nor around horses, and eight experienced horsemen. We twenty-five consisted of twelve Englishmen, seven Italians, two Greeks, one Spaniard, and three Americans, the third being a negro. The first day the ship was out the English and Italians started to fight, and this divided the party into two messes; at every meal thereafter there were hostilities. The third day out we ran into very rough weather, which continued during the following day: the vessel rolled and pitched in a horrible fashion, and most of us suffered severely from sea sickness.
The food furnished to us was very poor. The first nine meals consisted of Irish stew, and I believe it was made on the first day and thereafter heated at meal time.
We went en masse to the chief steward and demanded better food; there was a change, but it was no better, it was only different.
The horses were fed twice a day, the first time in the morning from half-past five to eight o’clock. We then had breakfast followed by hoisting feed from the hold, cleaning the stalls and similar duties, and then dinner. At three in the afternoon we gave the horses their second feeding, which took until nearly six o’clock when we had supper.
In rough weather life on the boat was fierce. Watering the horses as the boat rolled usually resulted in much of the water getting on the men, and the deck was always wet and slippery.
A cabin meant to hold twelve seamen held thirty-three cattlemen, so conditions can be realized. The air was foul; in fact the whole ship was foul. During the last week I slept in the lowest deck on the hay. We could not eat the food furnished, and even had it been palatable, it lacked quantity, so my appetite was not appeased once during the trip. I lost about fifteen pounds during the voyage. I could wash only twice and shave once during the trip. English warships convoyed us for the entire voyage, yet there was much uneasiness among the men. We lost eighteen horses en route.
On November 19th we were in that part of the Atlantic called the Bay of Biscay, and entering the broad Gironde river proceeded up it for about thirty miles to Pauillac, off which we laid two days, and then went up the river another thirty miles to Bordeaux where we docked at seven in the morning of Saturday November 21st. It was snowing and the city did not seem real--it looked so quaint and picturesque.
At ten o’clock we were dressed and went ashore and were stopped on the wharf by a Customs official who looked in only one valise and that was for tobacco and matches. The party then proceeded to a wine shop, where some bought wine, that they said was good, for fifteen centimes a glass. We soon learned that this was only three cents of American money.
We left our hand baggage at this shop and went to the British consul, from whom we received our discharge. We then returned for the bags and sought lodgings, which we obtained on Rue Notre Dame.
Everything we see in the city is different from anything my chum Larney or I have seen in America: the sidewalks and roadways are very narrow; the buildings quaint in appearance and generally only two stories in height.
We had a good supper although the portions served were small, but, as is usual, they gave three kinds of meat at the meal. Coffee was served in a small bowl with heated milk, there being more milk than coffee. For dessert nuts were served. The rooms were without heat, and for light a small torch was used.
On Sunday Larney and I with the two Greeks from the ship, went around town, one of the Greeks being the only member who could speak French.
Monday morning the four of us found the station for recruiting for the army and made application to join the Foreign Legion. The officers were agreeable but evinced no desire to urge us to enlist, and they informed us of an old rule in the Legion, that an applicant will not be examined or accepted until the day following his application. So we returned Tuesday morning at eight o’clock and took the physical examination, which was very thorough and the four of us were accepted.
Twenty other men who meant to join the regular army were examined at the same time, six of whom were rejected, some solely on account of poor teeth.
At five o’clock in the afternoon of Tuesday, November 24th, 1914, we signed articles which made us soldiers in the Army of the Republic of France, in the division la Légion étrangère, for service during the war.
We were not asked to take any oath of allegiance to France, nor to renounce our allegiance to the United States; all that was required of us was to be over eighteen years of age and to pass the doctor.
We were given five francs (one dollar) as spending money, and a railroad ticket to Lyon, where one of the depots of the Foreign Legion is located. It is to be our training station for four or five months, they say, before we can go to the front. No escort was furnished or effort made to see that we reported at Lyon and we learned it was the custom even before the war to trust recruits for the Legion to reach the depot of their own accord.
We had time to take a further look around Bordeaux. We met soldiers in large numbers everywhere, and found they were of the same belief as the people generally—that the Germans would be defeated in two months. All theatres were closed except some moving picture shows, the receipts from them were given to the Red Cross fund.
We left Bordeaux Wednesday night at nine o’clock, riding second class. The cars are small and divided into compartments, each holding eight persons. Most of the passengers were soldiers returning to the front. It was difficult to sleep as the train stopped every half hour and the people getting off and on made considerable noise.
Thursday was a clear day, and the bright sunlight enabled us to enjoy the magnificent scenery. The train was climbing mountains and going at a moderate pace. The construction of this railroad was a great engineering feat. One minute we would be in a tunnel, then suddenly emerge onto a frail bridge over a magnificent valley.
Nearly all the land in sight was under cultivation, it being divided into small plots of about half an acre each. These plots were enclosed by stone walls three feet high and two feet thick and the walls extended as far as the eye could see. The people were all very friendly but the only one of our party who could talk to them was our Greek interpreter.
From our hotel in Bordeaux we brought a roast chicken, bread and wine, which we ate at noon. The people here roast a chicken with its head on. We took the wine not because we were wine drinkers, but because the landlord put it in as a regular part of every lunch.
This is a great country for churches; from the car window we saw many that were nearly as imposing as cathedrals, and some had only ten or fifteen cottages around them.
We arrived at Lyon at one in the afternoon and went direct to the depot or station of the Legion.
We were temporarily assigned to the Fifth company of the Premier or First regiment. Our barrack was a school house before the war. We were located in a room about twenty feet wide and of the same length, the ceiling being about ten feet high. Maps and cards were still on the walls, and the desks and benches were piled in a corner.
When we arrived there were eight men in the room and newcomers continued to come until we had twenty-five men in the room. Each man was given a straw mattress, a pillow and two blankets.
We found nearly every nationality represented in this Foreign Legion; there were, however, no Chinese nor Japanese.
They have a system, when furnishing the men’s outfit, that enables a man to realize some money. Each man is given a complete outfit but should he have some articles of clothing that could be substituted for the military ones he is allowed a fair price for them and does not get equivalent articles from the quartermaster. For example, I had two winter union suits and a heavy sweater for which I received seventeen francs (three dollars and thirty-five cents) and got no underclothes from the army. One man received ninety francs (seventeen dollars and a half) that way.
We got a complete outfit and Larney and I had our pictures taken. I enclose one of mine.
By looking closely at the cap in the picture it will be seen that it has a cover on it. The cap is made of red cloth, but that color being too conspicuous a blue linen cover is worn over it. The coat is blue and reaches to the knees; it is buttoned back to allow free movement. The trousers are bright red, but were found to be such a good target at the beginning of the war, that a sort of blue overall is issued at the front to hide the red trousers. Patent leather puttees are generally worn, but in this photo I wear Douglas shoes. The regulation ones are very heavy; by actual count each shoe has one hundred and sixty-two hobs in the sole, which is half an inch thick. I never thought I would put my feet into things like them, much less wear them.
A broad band will be noticed around my waist. This is of blue linen and is fifteen feet long. It is the positive insignia of our Legion, and is not worn by any other division of the French army. A broad leather belt with a brass buckle supports the bayonet, the hilt of which is visible at my left side. This is a murderous weapon, and I do not blame the Germans for being afraid of it. It is about a foot and nine inches long and comes to a needle point. It has four grooves, and each edge is a quarter inch deep and one-eighth inch wide at the hilt. It is half an inch in diameter at the hilt. The gun has an eight shell chamber and one shell in the barrel; it is six inches longer than the present U. S. army gun. With bayonet attached it is a formidable weapon. This is our dress uniform, the one we appear in when on the street. The fatigue uniform has a cap or beret which is comfortable and handy, a short blouse, dark blue, no coat, the same pants and puttees. The blue band insignia we always wear.