At last the order we have so anxiously awaited has come; we leave early tomorrow morning, February 6th, for the front.
We were given a complete outfit, which consisted of one suit of underclothes, two pairs of socks, a white cotton sleeping hat, two pairs of shoes, a neck muffler and a jacket which resembles a smoking jacket. These jackets are all the same size, which is small, so that a big fellow has a hard time getting into one. There is no warmth in them, so most of the fellows did not bother to pack them. I left mine with the underclothes in Lyon, not having room in the sack for them. We got blue overalls to go over the red pants. We also got a pair of mittens, but they are not much good.
We were given a loaf of bread, one can of sardines, one and a half cans of fish paste, a chunk of cheese and some chocolate for rations. As a reserve ration we got two cans of bully beef, hard tack, salt, pepper, tea, coffee and sugar.
We also got one hundred and twenty rounds of ammunition. We packed a blanket, and half of a shelter tent with poles. The complete pack weighed nearly seventy pounds; it was very heavy.
The colonel inspected us thoroughly, and we passed after close scrutiny.
The weather is mild and like summer.
We left barracks Saturday morning, February 6th, in a pouring rain, and our train left Lyon at ten o’clock.
We arrived at Noisy-le-Sec, which is on the eastern outskirts of Paris and about two hundred miles north of Lyon, at ten o’clock Sunday morning. We remained until ten o’clock in the evening and then proceeded to our railroad destination which was about seventy miles to the northeast of Paris, and from there we had about twenty kilometres (twelve and a half miles) to march to this town where we are now located.
Official Postal Card for Use of Soldiers
Before reaching Noisy-le-Sec we passed a trainload of soldiers from India. It was a husky outfit.
There was a complete Company of us, about two hundred and fifty. When we reached here our Section was located in the loft of a barn. It was cold in our quarters as we had no stove and the weather was cold and rainy.
Upon reaching this place, the reserve rations given to us at Lyons were collected.
We are all well, and well treated and fed. We have coffee three times a day; wine once.
We were divided according to nationalities. Our Section contained, besides Americans, Belgians, Swedes, Roumanians, Italians, English and a pure-blooded Egyptian, who is very dark.
This town is the quaintest place I have seen; it has no sidewalks, and there was no idea of regularity when it was laid out. There are only about six stores, and I should judge the place contains about three hundred people. The butcher comes through here twice a week with his stock of trade in a wagon. The principal industry around here is grape growing; farming is a side issue.
A short distance from the railroad station there is a small river very near the canal. Over the canal were once two bridges now both destroyed, so we marched over temporary ones. This was the first sign of destruction I have seen since I reached France. They say the French destroyed these bridges.
We drill here and the Colonel manœuvred us the other day; he was well satisfied with us. There is a high mountain range between us and the firing line and from sunrise until night we can hear the rumble of cannon; it sounds like distant thunder.
The two Americans who left us in Lyon have spent three weeks in the trenches. We met them here during their rest which lasts eight days. They have returned to the trenches. The loss of life in the trenches has been reduced to a minimum. There is a constant rifle and cannon fire, but little damage is done while the men remain in the trenches.
I miss all of my folks and often think of New York. I am carrying a talisman in the form of a Yale key which belongs to the front door of our apartment. I have become attached to it and would feel its loss keenly. On the brace supporting the teeth is the word “Security.” A person with a lively imagination might find some hidden meaning in this.
Our sailor Pavelka formerly entertained us every night with tales of his trip on the good ship Dirigo from Seattle to England via Cape Horn. Jack London made the same voyage on its previous trip. It took our sailor one hundred and fifty-nine days to make the trip. After supper when stories are being exchanged he usually starts with, “Now, fellows, when I was on the Dirigo off——” He only gets that far now, because, like most sailors, he is very voluble and his tales of the sea have become monotonous. However, we are a very congenial quartette and get along well together.
Dad says he has a complete map of France, giving small villages, but we are not allowed to tell our location.
Dad was always good at puzzles: does he remember this one?
1. The name of the place indicated by this puzzle is, Bouzy.
We take long marches. The roads are excellent and have a complete system of direction signs. Just after we started on one of these hikes I saw a sign reading “Rheims 24 Kilometres.” As a kilometre is five-eighths of a mile, this was the equivalent of fifteen miles.
Things are about the same here; the weather is mild and we are having less rain. Ploughing is almost finished and planting will soon begin. From the outskirts of this place to the summit of the mountain (about three miles) the ground rises in a gentle slope which is completely covered by vineyards. It is a great wine country and from the heights a wonderful view is obtained of this extensive and fertile valley.
If Mr. Shortt’s son is anxious to join the war, he can do so easily. I would advise him to hurry up; by that I do not mean that the war will soon be over; I know absolutely nothing about that. If he is not ready to secure passage immediately, he can slip over on a horse boat, as I learn they are still importing horses.
It is a matter of choice which Regiment he joins, the First or Second. The Second contains the most Americans and it recruits through Paris; my Regiment recruits through the southern ports.
I would strongly advise him to lose no time, but sail immediately. It makes no difference whether he knows French or not. I have often told you of the great percentage here who do not know the language. Let him bring as much money as he cares to, because one cannot do or see much on the salary they pay here of one cent a day. Former military training is not necessary, but on the other hand if he has any glaring physical defects, he will not be accepted. I was surprised at the rigidity with which the examination was conducted.
He should bring two suits of good woollen underclothes and about half a dozen pairs of thick woollen socks. If he is going to bring a shaving set it should be as small and compact as possible. His comb and brush should be small and he should bring a small mirror. He should not bring many other clothes as they will be useless when he gets into a uniform. The army does not furnish a storeroom, so I put mine in the Municipal Pawn Shop in Lyon. They allow a very small loan, but it is conducted by the government and is used by many for storage of silver and other valuables. Would advise him to bring a tooth brush in some kind of a stiff cover to protect the bristles.
Above all, impress him that he is not going to be a tourist. He carries everything on his back and believe me, after an entire day of hiking, every ounce counts. The complete pack with cartridges, rations, etc., weighs nearly seventy pounds, so there is absolutely no room for junk. I would advise him to bring some sort of a leather portfolio (not too big) to fit into his inside coat pocket to carry personal papers, etc. He need not worry about his outfit of clothes; the Army attends to that. Show him in a philosophical way that he had better come. He has a leave from college, so he cannot lose anything by coming. On the other hand he will gain a lot of knowledge of the country, etc., and at his age it should almost be compulsory. I tell you candidly, if I was in his shoes I would get over here if I had to ship on a cattle boat. Well, here’s luck to him and I hope to see him soon.[2]
2. The young man referred to is Allan Shortt, son of Hon. William Allaire Shortt of Staten Island, New York. He subsequently joined the Fifty-ninth Battalion, Canadians, was attached to the machine gun section, and became a lieutenant. He was missing following an engagement December 10th, 1916, on the front in France: he is now a prisoner.
I received the army hand-book to-day. These books are given to each soldier and contain an identification, list of crimes, penalties, etc., and information about the bearer. In case anything should happen to me, I give the following information from the book. It will simplify the searching of my records.
A small aluminum tag is given us. I wear mine on my left wrist fastened by the mess-can chain. It is inscribed as follows:
Front side
Reverse side
The other day the Colonel inspected us and grouped us according to nationalities: there were eighteen groups. We were lined up and the Colonel was giving instructions when an aeroplane appeared, so we promptly sought shelter. We all watch for an aeroplane and when one comes we generally are marched to quarters. Quite a number of 'planes are active but it is almost impossible to tell to which nation they belong. No chance is taken, however, and we quickly get under cover. It frequently happens that the sound of the motor is heard before the 'plane is located. Last Sunday night heavy canonading was heard. It continued throughout the night, which was remarkably moonlight, and kept us awake the major part of the time. It must have been a big battle; I never heard its equal before.
When small detachments are shipped from here to join their battalions in the trenches there is a great display of joyous feeling shown by the men. They yell, sing, dance and rough-house generally. One would imagine that they are going to a festival. The New York papers do not exaggerate when they say this Legion is a fighting crowd. There are just enough of each nationality so that one country fights another. There has been a couple of scraps here to date. The chief cook for our section was an Italian and as he was dishing up poor stuff, we four got sore and told him he had better improve, but he did not take the hint. The kitchen is located very near the loft we sleep in, so one day when the meal was particularly poor we reached out of the door and heaved the whole business at him. It almost completely demolished the kitchen. A plate of meat and hot rice hit him on the head and he jumped into the path of a bowl of soup. He was a sorry looking dago when the avalanche ceased. We are getting good meals now. The other day we were nearly paralyzed when he had fried potatoes for us.
A detachment of about eighty Greeks left yesterday for the trenches. They were a very wild crowd and when they marched out of town they carried two Greek flags and were singing Greek songs. They had Greek officers. A number of the men had worked in the States. One was a waiter in the Hotel Knickerbocker, New York, but most of them had worked in railroad gangs.
I went to mass the other Sunday: it was served the same as in the States. The Church is very old: the place for the altar is wider than the pew space. The main altar is set back from the others and it only is railed off. In the space I mentioned as being wider than the pew section are two rows of pews, one on each side of the main aisle. They run at right angles to the altar and, I take it, are reserved for the élite of the town, as they are finely made and comfortable, not to mention their isolation. The regular pews are very uncomfortable, being straight-backed, while the board to kneel on is very narrow. The pews are placed close together which cramps one considerably. The organ is placed almost among the rafters. The acoustic properties of the building are poor. The structure is of stone, the walls being very thick. Immense stone columns, placed at short intervals, support the roof. On the first column on the left hand side of the aisle, about twelve feet from the floor, a small pulpit is built and is reached by a circular staircase. The floor is of marble. Instead of tableaux, cheap pictures show the Stations of the Cross. Lamps and candles furnish the light: no provision is made for heat. The windows are of stained glass and rather artistic. There was only a scattering of people, mostly women in mourning. A few soldiers attended.
As I have said this is the Champagne country; vineyards exist in abundance and at the present time they need attention; the ground around each vine must be loosened. Most of the men are in the army, so nearly every one in town turns out to work. Old men, old women, middle-aged women, young women, boys and girls and even children labor in the yards. I have seen grey-haired women bent almost double over the short three-foot hoe in use here. Everybody works, they work hard and with a will. From their appearance, the grapes will not suffer from lack of attention.
A few nights ago just as I was on the point of going to sleep a soldier came rushing through our quarters yelling “Fire.” In two shakes of a lamb’s tail we were all downstairs, formed in ranks and on double time in the direction of the fire, and as it was only a short distance off, we were soon there. As is the local custom, the house was set back and shut off from the road by an eighteen-inch brick and stone wall covered with cement. Next to, and in fact part of the house was the hay shed; some cavalry men were quartered here.
When we came into the courtyard the shed and nearest half of the top or second floor of the house were in flames. Already some of the furniture had been carried out from the ground floor rooms, and taking the hint, we rushed through the doorway to bring out more. It was one of the best houses in town and well furnished. By this time nearly everybody in town had arrived, but there was no sign of any fire fighting apparatus, and the fire was quickly destroying the house. Soon there were many triumphant cries, and with much gusto the Fire Department of Bouzy burst upon the scene, and was greeted by the crowd with many acclamations of joy. The Fire Department was carried by eager hands, and seeing a couple of vacant inches, I took hold. Everybody was yelling and giving orders, so the Department was carried all over the yard and frequently came near being deposited on the ground, when some one with an extra loud voice would tell of a more advantageous spot, so there the Department would go. This procedure was kept up for about five minutes before the machine was placed.
It consisted of a heavy iron tank four feet long, three feet wide and two feet high with two cylinders and a long two-handled bar for the man-power. Soon the hose was arranged and men formed for a bucket-brigade. Think of it: a machine to which the water must be brought and then pumped through the hose to the blaze. It was a long time before the water arrived and we frequently had to suspend for lack of water. Smith mounted to the roof of the building and Larney was conspicuous on an adjoining roof. Just as Smith reached the roof a stream from a nearby house started to play, but lacked force enough to reach the flames; it landed directly on Smith and continued playing on him. In a short time he was drenched and the spray also wet Larney through.
Well, to make a long story short, the building was completely destroyed, but no damage was done to any nearby structure. Smith slept in his wet clothes and the next morning when he unrolled from his blanket a cloud of steam arose. He surely must have had an enjoyable evening trying to sleep.
The helmets worn by the firemen were of brass and resembled the German helmet, only lacking the spike. They were highly polished and quite showy.