Reveille sounds at half-past five in the morning; we are then served with coffee, followed by drill till half-past ten when we have dinner, consisting of rich soup, meat, potatoes, etc. We get no sweets whatsoever. After dinner we peel potatoes, and after that drill till half-past four, at which time we have supper, there being the same bill of fare as dinner. We are free from five-thirty until nine, when we have inspection and then sleep. It is hard to get accustomed to the drill as the commands are in French, and scarcely any of the soldiers understand that language, even slightly.
Last Sunday we walked through the city in the company of an Englishman who came from Ceylon to enlist. He is a “younger son” and spends money lavishly when he has it. At present he is not in funds.
To the east of Lyon is a range of mountains, and on one of the highest mountains is a church. We visited it while military service was being held and the edifice was crowded. It has the handsomest and most costly interior decorations of any church I have ever seen. It is called the Chapelle de Notre Dame de Fourvière.
The view from the heights was magnificent. Lyon is in a valley and has two rivers running through it very swiftly. They say that Mt. Blanc, in Switzerland, can be seen from this church on a clear day. We saw many snow-capped mountains in the distance, but as the day was overcast we could not see the main attraction.
Last Monday we were transferred to the 2nd company of the same First Régiment étrangère. This is to be our permanent company and it is in another barracks. The day before we reached Lyon two Americans arrived from La Rochelle where they had enlisted. One had seen service in the Philippines, in the cavalry, while the other had served in the navy. So we were not so lonely after all.
When we reached the new barracks we found four more Americans, one of whom had been in the army, another in the navy; one was a doctor and the other a lawyer. The doctor is forty-nine years old; he came over at the beginning of the war to join the Red Cross. The ex-army man fought in the insurrection in Chili, and served in Mexico under Villa and he works a machine gun. He has since left us for the front.
These new barracks are located in a new school house, not quite completed. Our room is about ninety feet long and thirty feet wide; it has a row of eight windows on each side, and accommodates one hundred men.
At intervals of about a week volunteers who desire to go to the front are called for from the different companies. Of course we volunteered, but were refused because there is a severe form of typhoid in the trenches which, it is said, kills a man in four hours. On this account nobody is allowed to go until he has been inoculated four times; we had not been inoculated at all. The volunteers are put in a special company and drilled separately. Larney and I with the three other Americans (the doctor not included) are in this company.
This Legion is the most cosmopolitan organization in the world. In one corner of the room you will hear Greek spoken, the next group will be speaking Spanish, then German spoken by the Swiss, Polish from another corner and English from our crowd.
I saw a fight through interpreters. A Greek got into an unintelligible argument with a Pole and as neither could speak the other’s language nor “parly” French, their fellow countrymen were called, and they being slightly acquainted with French, that was the language resorted to. When all arrangements were completed the combatants proceeded to pommel each other, and before long the interpreters were also engaged, and it was a very lively party when the officers arrived. There are many such happenings and they afford much amusement.
We have had many sham battles and considerable rifle practice. I now, five weeks after reaching barracks, make an average of four hits out of eight at a target of a man, life size, at two hundred and fifty meters (298 yards). They call that fair shooting for the time in practice.
The manual of arms is very different from that of the Virginia Military Institute, but the training I received there comes in handy. I cannot understand the commands but generally know what to expect.
All the men in our section have the same limited knowledge of French, but they are able to understand the orders. The weather is warm; an overcoat is only necessary at night.
I miss sweets very much. Many times I have longed for a piece of pie, in fact for a whole pie, but they do not know what pie is over here. The pastry in the shops is wonderfully light but ridiculously expensive, and our pay of one cent a day does not permit investing in it. Still we have indulged several times, but it seemed like eating samples. I certainly miss the sweets.
I also missed the Thanksgiving Day dinner; we had nothing extra that day, so while eating mine I thought of the folks at home and the good things they were enjoying. But I missed the Christmas dinner most; we received no extra course here, so I contented myself with philosophizing, and speculating on the next Christmas dinner. Larney said he will have his in Berlin, but I prefer mine at HOME.
We had the first fall of snow in Lyon this morning. It lasted about two minutes. Instead of cold and snow they have a rainy winter. There have not been two successive days without showers since I arrived in France.
Trolley cars, with overhead wires, are used in Lyon and they are run with a trailer. There are many kinds; some are divided into three compartments, one-third of the car being devoted to standing room, and the other two divisions being for first and second classes. I have seen a car pass with the second class packed as closely as they are in the New York Subway, while the first class was empty. The first class fare is double that of the second.
The car is started by a signal from a small horn, and the conductor gives a receipt as he collects the fare. Double deck trolleys have been in use here for years.
I tried to learn the location at the front of the First Régiment étrangère, but nobody knows. There were six Americans here and two have left for the front. We received letters from them but they were not allowed to give their location and the envelopes had a number in place of the name of the post office. Post offices near the front are no longer named; they are numbered, and not in consecutive order, for Secteur Postal 6 adjoins 109. Soldier’s letters are sent free in France. Letters of prisoners of war are forwarded free (when they are forwarded) through all countries, including the neutrals who are in the postal union.
We learned that it is very cold where the First Regiment is and that an Italian who left here with the two Americans was given eight days in prison for eating his reserve rations.
A shipment of volunteers from our company left for the front three weeks ago and last week we were assembled and a report read stating that one of the men (giving his name) was executed, having been caught in the act of deserting. Considering these incidents, they must be near the front.
We called at the American Consulate and found the Vice Consul in charge. He had served in the Philippines during the war. He gave us New York newspapers and treated us with great kindness. While there an American doctor came in, who was disgusted with travelling facilities. His passport had his photograph attached. The paper was nearly covered with official stamps and he came to the Consul to get the U. S. stamp on while there was still room, as every Tom, Dick and Harry, he said, was desirous of spoiling the paper. When he saw Larney and I and learned we were from New York he became enthusiastic and gave ten francs to each of us. Another American gentleman and his wife came to the barracks one evening with the Vice Consul, and presented each of us with a package containing pipe, cigarettes, tobacco and a neck wrapper. We fully appreciated their acts. The gentleman had given his auto to the Red Cross and he drives it.
Great changes are taking place here. All the Légionnaries who did not want to fight the Germans were shipped to Algiers. Another call for volunteers was made to all the companies. Those who did not volunteer were sent to Valbonne, a town about twenty miles off. There are a great many men there and they will remain, it is reported, until spring.
We cannot find out when we leave for the front, but all of us hope that it will be soon.
On December 31st I was inoculated for the third time against typhoid; it was the most severe of the four inoculations. We were treated at three p. m. and two hours after I thought I would die. I was sick all of the next day; at first I was troubled by a severe headache, followed by chills and fever. The fourth and last inoculation had no effect at all.
It may be interesting to describe how they inoculate. First the doctor, who is called in French, le médecin, asks you about the condition of your throat, chest and bowels. If they are O. K. he takes the flesh on the shoulder blade (he used my left four times, the right he rarely uses, and only then toward the finish) between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, making a ridge of the flesh. The hypodermic needle is forced into the flesh and it felt to me as though it was pushed just under the skin. The fluid is then injected; it leaves a small lump on the blade until it begins to work on the system. The quantity of serum is gradually increased from the first treatment; I should judge the first time about a tablespoonful was used. Thank Heaven it is over. I am ready to leave at a moment’s notice now.
Larney likes the life. He was issued a good overcoat, but was made to exchange it with a man going to the front. He did not like the first overcoat but was in raptures over the exchange.
When we first reached Lyon the city was alive with soldiers and it was surprising to note the great number of different uniforms the French army has. Of late, however, the diminishing number of soldiers on the streets is apparent. Most of the men were sent to Valbonne or the front.
Everybody in Lyon seems to be working for the army. Contracts are given to individual families for uniforms and wherever you go women and men are seen carrying military clothing for the soldiers, while wagons loaded with army clothes are very numerous.
All automobile works and machine shops, even the smallest, are busily engaged manufacturing shells and the arsenals are working two shifts of men, one night and one day.
It seems to me that our army is feeling a growing scarcity of rifles, as they are now issuing to recruits an old model rifle of fifty calibre. It is a single shot affair of 1867 model; rather awkward and crude. I have seen large motor trucks returning from the front laden down with rifles picked up from the battle fields. After an overhauling the guns will be used again.
I am struck very forcibly with the great economy of the French. We did fatigue the other day and it consisted of washing or rather scrubbing with brush and water the shoes returned from the front. I believe the bodies are stripped of what can be used again.
Wood is scarce over here; it must cost more than concrete. Concrete workers are very expert and some finishing work I saw by them was remarkable. These workmen, however, would be useless in the States, as it takes them too long to construct a building.
Everything is saved to the smallest item: even pig skins are saved to grease with. They are sold tied up in neat little rolls, and, I believe, sold by weight. Everything is sold by weight, even bread, which is excellent; no bread in the States can equal it.
Last Sunday while we were walking along the street a Frenchman stopped and talked to us in English. He had spent seven years in London. He was very pleasant and treated us royally and escorted us back to barracks. He invited us to call on him.
A party of four of us, three Americans and a Spaniard, a few nights ago had a night march, with manœuvres to take a fort. The sergeant in command was a Frenchman with no knowledge of any language except the French, so he had great difficulty in explaining the tactics to us. When we returned to barracks we were given hot wine flavored with lemon; it was good. To-morrow morning we start at three o’clock for a long hike. They believe in work here.
We continue drilling hard; had a twenty-five mile hike the other day. Started at half-past six in the morning and returned at six in the afternoon. We cooked our dinner and it certainly was fine. We had wine, meat, fried potatoes, cheese, bread and coffee. If we get such meals at the front we will be well satisfied.
We are having night marches frequently, and always get hot wine when we return.
Our section was put on fire duty Sunday afternoon. At this duty we simply stack arms in the court-yard and wait around. In case of a fire in the city we are to keep the crowd back. I think the main object of fire duty is to keep the men in barracks.
When we arrived in Lyon I purchased an English-French grammar but have had very little time to study and the light in the barracks at night is too poor to read by. But I will do the best I can to learn as much French as possible.
The censor does not seem to interfere with our mail; none of the letters I received has been tampered with.
We get all newspapers, magazines and other printed matter, without any attempt by the censor to examine them.
Our squad contains sixteen men and is divided into two rooms. In my room are two Americans (the Greek-American sailor is with me), two Italians, one German-Swiss, who is an excellent soldier, two Spaniards and an Arab. One of the Spaniards has been in prison twice and is now serving his third term, fifteen days this time. One of the Italians is a good soldier; the other is guilty of an unpardonable sin, he snores. He wakes us every night; last night the sailor threw a shoe at him; when it struck him he woke with a jump, and was going to take the sailor’s life, but his music (?) had so provoked us that we were only waiting for an excuse to rend him limb from limb, so he wisely got under the covers. All in all we have a pretty good room.
It is comical when it comes to conversation. One day we talk English, the next Spanish, the next Italian, but we all agree Divine Wisdom was absent when the Arabic language was constructed. When an Arab talks it sounds as though he was choking to death. The language consists of spits and coughs, and at regular intervals a sneeze is employed to give the proper accent.
Larney is in the next room with John Smith (the fourth American), three Spaniards, a Swiss corporal, a Russian and a Greek. These three Spaniards are brothers and inseparable; the youngest is about thirty-five years old. They came from Argentina, having served in the artillery there; they are three excellent men. They were sent by the French consul at Argentina.
One of the Greeks who came over on the steamer with us and enlisted at Bordeaux, has been reformed to-day, January 26th, and sent back to Bordeaux as he has consumption. This news completely nonplussed me as at the physical examination he showed up the best of us. He was well muscled and looked the picture of a trained athlete. He intends to go to Cape Town, South Africa, where he has a relative. He is a good-hearted chap and I am sorry for him.
The number of Légionnaries training in Lyon has been steadily diminished until only one hundred remain. There are a great many Frenchmen, however, training in Lyon. At Valbonne, twenty miles from here, there are about thirty thousand troops training, among them several companies of the Legion.
Nearly all the public buildings are used as hospitals, while the schools have been converted into barracks.
The people are very pleasant and will go a great distance out of their way to set a stranger in the right direction. They are light eaters; bread, wine and cheese are their mainstays. A large amount of chocolate is eaten; it is not as good as our milk chocolate.
The moving picture shows in Lyon are free for soldiers. The people like the western cowboy pieces. I saw a string of six push-carts with advertisements of films in which John Bunny appeared.
We are paid one sou, being the equivalent of one cent, a day and pay-day every tenth day. Our dissipation on half a franc can be readily pictured. But we are furnished everything we need, and there are no charges here.
Market days are Tuesdays and Fridays, and on those days most of the public squares are thrown open to the farmers who come to town with long, narrow, two-wheeled carts, drawn by everything from a dog to a horse. Small donkeys, about three feet high, are numerous. One frequently sees a dog harnessed with a donkey; I saw an old woman teamed with a dog drawing a fruit cart. There are some fine draught horses; the animals work tandem, and the driver walks.
Four-wheeled carts are very scarce. Auto-trucks are used for transportation; many are of the large, heavy type, but have steel tires. Pleasure cars are numerous. The majority have been taken for military purposes. They are all built low and make considerable noise.
I have not as yet seen many asphalt covered streets. Most of them are paved with stone blocks, while in a great number of streets cobble stones are used. Save in the main streets, the sidewalks are narrow. As a rule the streets are well lighted at night. A great many places of business have signs “English spoken,” but we have not yet come across one store wherein English was spoken. The stores are open on Sundays. Monday is the poorest business day in the week.
The children have school, if soldiers are not using the building, from nine to noon, and from two to four p.m. School is in session Saturdays but closed Thursdays.