WE are resting by the road---a very common thing in the Transport Military Service. I have a load of green wood---for trestle work---which cannot weigh more than 34,000 pounds, for it is only a 5-ton truck.
As my paper may testify before my interrupted letter is complete, I have not washed my hands or face for more than sixty hours. My last bath was taken in Paris.
I spoke above of interruptions. They are not orders to proceed, or unload, or any such thing. The first was to watch a snappy combat of soixante quinzes and a squadron of Boche airplanes. They seemed to be directly over N----, which is some twelve kilometers from F----- where we are temporarily quartered. The pet guns of the French, the little pieces which with the aid of the inferior Fifth Avenue buses are reputed to have saved Paris pounded away for about ten minutes. They sprinkled little white puffs all over the sky but didn't seem to be coming within some nine or ten miles of the white-bellied evening birds. The latter, however, apparently were wasting no time or gasoline in getting up and away. They were soon out of sight. The poilus who insist upon treating us as we do a circus parade claimed that several of the booms were aerial bombs. However they tell us anything they think we can understand of their French so it is hard to believe anything.
The second interruption (which as it happened occurred some fifteen minutes before the other---and a few less before I began this letter) was a large troop movement. It is nothing new, or unique. But of course it may interest you somewhat. They were mostly French Hindu Chinese, whom the French call "Annamites," but were sprinkled with Senegalese and natives. Pinched in between them were a few hundred German prisoners. They looked very much like little boys who had been caught on five or six dictionaries and a morocco bound copy of Heroes and Hero Worship eating jam. They weren't having any fun, though, where these were, and you can hardly hate any one who has lived like a rat in the ground for months.
I have seen a bit of that ferret-life. We have been through miles of first line trenches which had been evacuated by the Germans several weeks before. We also thoroughly investigated the village of N----, which the French tore completely to pieces to retake it from the Germans. We got what we had been asking for in Paris, almost the day we left it---excitement! Some of us wanted it and some of us thought we wanted it. Now, of course, we sleep with 210 and bigger shells hurtling their demoniac way over our heads. But the first day that we crouched in a rehearsal trench watching the French rookies in hand grenade practice, there wasn't one of us that didn't shake all over every once in a while---perhaps every time a grenade was thrown.
We are part of the French Army. Just what our status will be when our troops, promised for July, arrive we have not yet been able to discover. Finding out anything is the hardest work we have. Often we don't know where we are or where we are going. We never know when we are through or when we are starting. In fact we know very little except that we work hard and probably shall until we get back to Paris.
Since starting the above paragraph we have come some eighteen miles, steady running over deeply rutted roads, muddy roads, and over-trafficked roads. A tired, sleepy-looking gang of unfit-for-the-front peasants are nonchalantly unloading the poles. I am carrying forty-six and the seven men disturbing my camion should have them out in time for dinner-supper, which is in two hours.
This above statement is misleading. Supper is any time we get back; just as breakfast is fifteen minutes before we leave---be that at 4 or 8. Lunch is any time motors are hot enough to stop the convois.
If I am giving the impression that a single one of us is displeased or dissatisfied it is an erroneous one. Lately, since we have left our training camp, we have been mostly marking time. I repeat that things are quiet along most of the French front and especially where we happen to be. Near here we have been extraordinarily successful and the air supremacy is assured, I imagine. However, French newspapers must bow in accuracy and unbiasedness even to The -----; and French soldiers, even officers, are pretty badly informed as to what is happening except in their own sections.
England is of course just catching her stride. I doubt if she has her second wind. Each day, however, she extends her lines, relieving the French strain and allowing a more perfect concentration of offensive forces. The Australians are constantly the recipients of unending praise and the Canadians and New Zealanders are honored. The Scotch (who wear silk plaid breeches in every Paris café) are absolutely worshipped.
To return to my statement of our treatment and satisfaction. They love us, particularly because we are volunteers and especially because we are Americans. They cannot do enough for us in every way.
The work is spasmodic---that is all that we object to. We may work seventy hours and then loaf and make ourselves think we are not (which is the harder) for three times seventy. Even at that it is pleasant to think that no alarm-clock will waken you at 7 (a rough hand will do it at 5) to attend a lecture on Roman Lawyers and their friends by a much-esteemed Professor.
I am at this moment the camp favorite. A New York Times for Sunday, April 15, has just arrived. It is the first American newspaper that has disturbed our quiet and most blissful coma of ignorance.
Somewhere in July.
WE left the training camp about a week ago and arrived at our permanent place of abode after about six hours of riding in the camions. The camp is at J----, about seven miles from the front, and in the Aisne district. We were put into barracks, but before we had time to get settled and everything put to rights we were called to go out on a drive which lasted all night. The work has kept up ever since and last night was the first that we have had over five hours' sleep in.
The camion that Elmer and I received (there are two of us on each truck) was a 5-ton Pierce-Arrow, which was in fairly good shape. It has been through the battles of the Somme and the Marne and has three shell and five or six bullet holes in it. El and I have worked on it all our spare time and now it is running in fine order. Over here you have to do all the repairs on the cars yourself and that is no slight job with some of these old trucks.
The other day we left at five in the morning and loaded at park and drove about twenty miles to B----- at C----- where we left our load in the dumping park. While we were waiting there for the Frenchmen to unload,----and believe me they are mighty slow workers,----we had a very interesting sight.
A French airplane was over the trenches dropping a few bombs, when all of a sudden a German plane came out. The French plane retreated back over his own trenches with the other following him. It was a beautiful sight to see the shrapnel from the French anti-aircraft guns bursting white puffs around the German flyer. The Frenchman finally got above the Boche and came down in a spiral around him, firing his machine-gun. As he did so the Boche must have been hit because he zigzagged down to earth, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. The minute he started falling, all the French poilus started yelling, for the German planes do an awful lot of damage dropping bombs at night and the French are glad to get back at them.
We went back again and loaded up at another park and went across the Aisne river to a little town behind a hill where we had to wait until dark before we could go ahead. About nine o'clock we took our load of shells, seventy-fives, to Château S-----, which is about one mile from the trenches. There are two batteries of seventy-fives and one of one hundred fifty-fives there and when they were all going at once it certainly was some Fourth of July by the noise. When the departées left the guns you would see a flash and then hear a report followed by a whirring moan. That is all right, but when you hear an arrivée, a shriek followed by a report, if it is anywhere near you, you want to get right down on your face on the ground. You are quite safe if you do that because the fragments of shells scatter in parabolas from where they land.
On the way home just after we crossed the bridge over the Aisne at P----d'A----, one of the cars ran out of gas so the whole rame stopped and as luck would have it the Germans started shelling the bridge with high explosive shells. They didn't quite have the range and the first shell landed seventy-five yards from us and the second about fifty feet away. The last covered us with dirt and the fuse landed on the road right side of one of the fellows and he now has it as a souvenir. We all must have had horseshoes tied to us, however, and nobody has been hit in our section as yet.
Well, we have got to roll pretty soon now, so I must close. Give my love to all the folks and write soon because anything no matter how short seems mighty good to us out here.
August 1st, 1917.
I'M telling the world I'm tired. It is now twelve days and twelve nights that we have been working with only a little time between trips to eat and write letters. About all our sleep we get on our cars while they are being loaded. But now we are all getting hardened to the work so it's not so bad. As for dirt, well if cleanliness is next to godliness then I guess we all live next door to the devil, for water is scarce. There isn't much to write today, for nothing much has happened.
The last three days I have been running the wrecking car and since it has been raining for a couple of days it has been some job. When it rains here the roads all disappear and two or three inches of slimy mud take their place. Consequently lots of cars slide off into the ditches and we have to haul them out. One car started across country for Berlin but landed up against one of the screens which protect the Route Gardue so didn't get far. He was loaded with ammunition which we had to unload, then pull him back on the road, load him up again and ship him off. Then another car slipped off into a field and we had to repeat the process. Finally after forty-eight hours of work like that we started for camp but picked up a car with a broken drive shaft and had to tow it fifteen miles back to the repair shop. But when we got there about 10 o'clock this morning such a meal as they had for us! Good beef, string beans, lentils, potatoes, bread and cheese, and hot coffee! Gosh! It tasted like a million dollars.
Our camp is situated a short way behind the lines so that we do not have to go far to the munition depots, but since we are supplying two sectors now we have to haul a long way. I have forgotten whether I told about our camp so I will tell you now. We have a large tent which serves as a dining-room and as a recreation room. Around this are grouped trailers, called remorquis, in which we sleep. These are about six feet by ten and three men live in each with hanging beds suspended from the roof. So far we have found them very comfortable but I bet they'll be cold in winter. At any rate we don't sleep much in them, so we should worry. We have our own cooking staff and are very well taken care of in that respect. Outside of the regular French officers' fare we receive forty cents a day extra toward food, so you see we fare well. For breakfast we have eggs, bread and jam, and coffee. For dinner we get meat (usually beef), rice or spaghetti, bread and jam, and coffee. Supper is our big meal,---we have meat, potatoes, beans or lentils, some kind of fruit, vegetables, and hot tea or coffee. The only thing we lack is sweet stuff but we buy chocolate to fill in. Just at present I am out of money so I don't get any, so it's not much loss.
It is rumored around camp that we move for new quarters tomorrow. We go up to the Western front where there is a big French and British offensive going on. When we move all we have to do is to hitch our remorquis behind our trucks and go. It's like picking up your bed and walking. By moving so much we will eventually see most of the front, which will be fine. The offensive around here last week resulted in the French gaining what they desired so they will probably have a lull here for a while. But while this attack lasted (for two weeks) it was terrible. There are some pictures in Leslie's Magazine of July the 5th, which shows some pictures of screened roads. These are taken on this front and are roads which I have travelled over. The bridge pictured was recently blown up by a shell. These pictures might interest you as other pictures also in it show pictures of this front.
Well, we have to carry some bomb-proofs up to a town near the front lines tonight, so I must close. We go up to this town by night because the road up is visible to the Germans and our convoy would be a tasty bit to them. Therefore we go up there at night. I had to tow a car down from there the other day in broad daylight, but nothing happened and we weren't fired on once.
Paris, May 6, 1917.
THIS is my first letter to you all since my arrival in Paris. My last letter home was written on the boat from which we landed without event on April 25th. I shall never forget the last morning on board. I climbed out of bed early in order to be on deck when the boat arrived in sight of land. When I got up on deck, through the mist could be seen indistinctly the shore line, which in an hour became a mass of green landscape. After eleven days of nothing but water in motion, it was the greatest relief to the eyes to see land again. Soon we were in the harbor feasting our eyes on the beautiful farms and hamlets which ran down to the water's edge not over one hundred yards away. By noon we were up the harbor as far as the tide would let us go, waiting for higher tide before proceeding to Bordeaux; away again at 4 p.m., arriving at the end of our journey at 10 o'clock Wednesday night. As the hotels were nearly all filled, we remained on the boat all night.
In the morning we barely had time to breakfast and send for a few cards before our train left for Paris. I did not, therefore, have time to see much of Bordeaux. The trains and train service here are far superior to what I had imagined they would be. First-class engines, good, though crude coaches, made up of six to ten passenger compartments. Ten of us climbed into one of these in a second-class coach, and we were off. The Government took us up, so as we travelled free of charge, we saw nothing of the conductor all the way.
The trip was without exception the most beautiful and interesting that I have ever taken. All of France is wearing its spring coat. The farms run right up to the tracks. Garden truck and grain are up, and the fields are full of laborers---mostly women. The few men seen were either crippled, wounded, or too old for army service. Most of the traction on the farms is done by oxen; more so now I understand than formerly, as the horses all go to the front.
The farmsteads, though humble, are as neat as pins. Gardens come up to the door; no space is wasted. All of the houses are of stone, or a kind of mud plaster, and all the houses on farms and in the little towns have red tile roofs. One feels on passing through the country that he is constantly in a mammoth old-fashioned garden, so neat and quiet and beautiful is everything. Some of the boys played cards all of the way up. I couldn't leave the window, for the beauty of the scene gripped me from the moment we left Bordeaux.
After nine too short hours, we arrived in Paris at dusk, and were taken at once to headquarters, tired, dirty (they use soft coal on the railroads), but glad to get where we could get something under the belt and then a clean bed. 21 rue Raynouard was full to capacity, as was the overflow on rue Lekain, but they had rented a good sized chapel next to the house on rue Lekain, and arranged twenty-five cots in rows there. About twenty of the Cornell bunch, including myself, picked cots there, and yours truly went at once to bed to sleep the sleep of the just.
It is a mighty comfortable camp. We got breakfast at the house next door in rue Lekain, and the other meals at headquarters on rue Raynouard. The feed is excellent and we could not be treated better. Headquarters is a fine old mansion given for the duration of the war by the owners to the American Field Service. It backs on to a beautiful park, sloping down to the Seine, the existence of which would not be suspected from a look at the grim, homely appearance of the front of the house on rue Raynouard. The interior, though now bare of carpets and expensive furniture, suggests grandeur. Great halls and stairways, a beautiful panelled dining room, and imposing terraces in the rear, all fit in with one's impressions (derived from books) of French love of the beautiful. The rooms now are dormitories for the men while in Paris, and offices, a lounge and a dining-room and a great kitchen. We are well taken care of here.
I have been rather busy since my arrival and have not really had an opportunity to see Paris. I have, however, taken advantage of what spare time I have had to see the exterior of some of the most beautiful buildings and some of the parks. Most of the famous buildings, as the Louvre, etc., are closed to the public, on account of the war, and I, therefore will not be able to see the inside of them, but it is most interesting to wander about just looking at these magnificent buildings with their surrounding parks and wonderful statues; one reads history, struggles, sacrifice, at every step. I imagine France is going through now on a large scale what she has been through for many, many generations. Her monuments are predominantly war monuments, her art that art inspired by great sacrifice and love of country. Already I feel that I have learned much that I needed to learn. If I were to return now I would feel repaid for the trip. I shall have much to tell you of this wonderful place and these wonderful people after I have been in contact with them longer.
What has impressed me most during my short stay here is the earnestness of the French people in the present conflict; their willingness to sacrifice everything for the great cause which they have been upholding for the world since the beginning of the war. There are few men in civilian clothes seen in Paris, and those few are cripples and old men. Women predominate to a great degree, and I think it conservative to say that seventy-five per cent. of the women are in black. And yet there is little sadness displayed. True, there are few smiling faces to be seen, too great a tragedy is being acted for these poor people to find much joy in life, and yet no one complains; each plays the part willingly knowing that the sacrifice has been made for France. This is indeed a wonderful people. But Paris is no longer gay.
It is indeed a great consolation to me now, more so than I ever imagined it would be, to know that the United States is at last a participant in this awful affair. It is indeed a miserable affair and a pity that the whole world should be required to turn from the ordinary pursuits of life and peace to those of war. But for a long time a war against oppression, crime, and frightfulness has been waged for us, and we have reaped the "benefits" in money.
Thank God we can now lift up our heads and square our shoulders again! The Stars and Stripes again means what it meant in '76 and '12 and '61---it stands for honor and peace and humanity even though the price be war. I long 'for the day when our first American troops land in France to fight shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the world against selfishness and greed, and when this war is over, as I pray it soon will be, may America, my country, take the initiative in the movement for an alliance of nations, a world federation so organized that war will no longer be possible. Do not think that mine is a schoolboy patriotism. I despise a fight as such; I despise war-as-- such. We---the United States---are fighting against war---not for it.
June 10, 1917.
HERE I am again and my intention is to complete this letter at this sitting and get it off to you tonight. I had similar intentions on the fifth, but was called for a meeting while writing and this is the first opportunity I have had since then to write you. I am writing this under far different circumstances and conditions than those surrounding me when I wrote the above. In the first place I am seated on a pile of straw under a tent somewhere in France as a member of T. M. 23, with address changed to B. C. M., Paris, France.
I am still in the American Field Service doing, however, different work than I had originally planned. On May 5th, Mr. Andrew, the head of the American Field Service, called all the Cornell men together and outlined a plan which the French Government asked him to adopt. As the United States is no longer neutral the American Field Service has been asked to extend its activities and supply men for transport work at the front as well as for ambulance work. At present there is a great lack of drivers for the big transport ammunition trucks---a lack which is not felt in the ambulance work.
The plan as presented to us was for as many men as possible among those present who could pass the physical examination to volunteer for this service instead of for the ambulance; to recruit to forty men and leave at once for a week's training at some point out toward the front. The plan was adopted and after getting our equipment together and being passed on by the doctor, forty of us left Paris yesterday morning after a most impressive ceremony. We were given a banquet Monday night at which Ambassador Sharp and several high up French officers addressed us with stirring speeches. Yesterday morning we were inspected under arms and passed in review with the Stars and Stripes waving in our midst.
Do not be alarmed at this change. The work is not more dangerous than the ambulance work, but is more to my liking. It is belligerent service and as the United States is no longer neutral, and as I am praying that she will send her boys and soon light in a most worthy cause, I could see no reason why I should now be doing work which is being carried on largely by neutrals. The same organization is handling this new service as is handling the ambulance. This is merely a new branch---a new activity of the Field Service. Our unit is the first unit in this service and the first organization of Americans to go into belligerent service in France since war was declared by the United States.
We left Paris for yesterday morning after the fine send off, glad for the change, and arrived here in the afternoon. We spent the afternoon and evening pitching camp and getting organized and turned in early in order to be up early in the morning. The camp is in a beautiful little valley just below a pretty, though humble French town. We have three large tents, an officers' tent, and two kitchen wagons, and an office wagon. This morning we had another ceremony conducted by a French Captain and a large band, at which the American and French flags were formally raised over the camp.
We shall be here a week learning how to drive the big 5-ton Pierce-Arrow military trucks, after which time we will be sent out into active service at the front. There will be twenty trucks travelling in convoy, two men to a machine, each driving half the time and assisting on the road the other half. We begin the work tomorrow and later I will be able to tell you more in detail just what we have to do. There will be much that I cannot tell you until I see you again. Our orders are very strict on this point and places and incidents will have to be left out of my letter. I'll keep a diary, however, and will have much to tell you when I see you again. I am in the best of health and am getting a great deal out of this experience!
Saturday, June 16, 1917.
THIS is a hot, sultry afternoon and the barracks are like ovens, but I want to get a letter started to you now that I have a little time, so I will start it now and finish it in the cool of this evening unless other duties prevent. I have received no word from the States since I last wrote you, but as a boat has arrived and mail is beginning to come in again I am looking forward to receiving the good home letters tonight.
Last night I had a most pleasant surprise in the receipt of the pound of tobacco from-----. I was surely hungry for a real smoke, for my supply had run out some time ago and French tobacco is vile. So I got out my old jimmy pipe and filled it full and then went out and dreamed pipe dreams. I guess you know, without my telling you, how much I appreciate your keeping me supplied. You folks will all have me spoiled; what with candy and books and smoke a fellow is as comfortable as a Fifth Avenue millionaire and lots happier.
Evening-same day. Well, I didn't get far this afternoon. Just got started when Tinkham called the section out for drill. We surely had some workout and all came in after two hours of it wringing wet, for this has been about the hottest day we have had and that means pretty hot and the heat here seems more depressing than at home.
We have had but very little rain in this section, but in spite of that fact the crops seem to be doing well. Though the heat of the day is intense, the nights usually turn off cool and refreshing. A heavy dew falls, which probably in a measure makes up for some of the lack of rain. Just now I am down the road from camp writing on the steering wheel of one of the trucks as a desk and hoping that it will not take too long for this part of the world to cool off tonight, for it is difficult to make one's mind operate when it is as warm as it is right now.
The postman disappointed most of us tonight, bringing only three or four letters and that's not near enough to keep a whole camp satisfied. But as tomorrow is Sunday, which is not a day off in the war zone, we will hope for better luck when he comes tomorrow night. The mail service is highly inefficient as far as speed is concerned, but it seldom fails in finally delivering what is intrusted to it. So here's hoping for the morrow. I sure am anxious to hear from you all.
Everything is going well with me here. Our group of four sections needs but one more section to make the group complete, and that one will be added next week. Recruits are rapidly arriving in Paris for this service and new sections are being formed as fast as possible and will be sent to form new groups as soon as they receive the proper training. Our group will consist when completed of: Section A---mostly Cornell; Section B---mostly Andover; Section C---mostly Dartmouth; and Section D---miscellaneous. The group lives in adjacent barracks, but each section has its own Lieutenant and Commissary and works independent of the others. There is a friendly rivalry among the sections in many ways, i.e., the carrying out of our daily work; drill; baseball; etc.
On the whole the boys get along together finely, though as is always the case when a bunch of men get together there comes up now and then a little friction which soon wears off after the application of the right kind of oil and everything is lovely again. It may be because I am closer to them and know them better, but I feel that of all the sections so far our bunch has the cleanest, finest bunch of lads. I have made some good friends among them. There's Rusty, of course; then --- (Cornell '14) whom I knew well at school; --- is a prince of a lad who I have come to know very well, for we spend much of our spare time together, and as he is Sergeant of the rame in which I am "Corp." we work together. You will be glad to know him when we get back. Then there is ------, who is Rusty's pal and who is one of those short, lanky lads who makes every one near him at all times laugh at his funny remarks and antics. There are a lot of fine fellows here! ----- and----- I knew better than any of the rest. So with so many old friends and new a fellow can't kick at his environment.
Sunday noon.---Couldn't finish this last night, as I was called in for orders for the work today, which consists of a night trip. Leaving camp at 4 p.m. we drive to a loading station, get a load of "junk" (munitions or materials), then drive toward the front, arriving at a little shot-up town at about 6:30, where we stop, eat a cold lunch, and wait until dark. Then we move on to our destination, an artillery supply station, where we are unloaded. Then back to camp in the dark without a light and in bed at about 2 a.m., if everything goes well. Things are mighty quiet here along the front and for the past week we have not been on the road as much as usual or as much as we would like to be. Nevertheless there is plenty to do getting the cars in shape, drilling, etc. There is work around the barracks which we all pitch in and help with, such as "cleaning house," peeling spuds, carrying water, etc.
If you think we are poorly fed, just listen to this. I just got up from a dinner at which the following was inflicted on us: ham, French-fried new potatoes, lettuce salad, strawberries, cherries, bread and jam. What do you think of that? Well, yes, I'll admit it was the best meal we have had in camp, but whoever heard of a soldier getting strawberries with his rations? We are surely well fed. I have never enjoyed better health. But say---I'll never be weaned from little U. S. Here's what I dream about when I dream about feed: Home-made bread, Butter---Jelly!! Pie---ice cream-and say---did such a thing as beefsteak ever exist or is that just an idea I had? I'm not complaining one bit, for I'm mighty glad I'm here, but---well, I'll sure be glad to get home with you all, and eats have the least to do with those sentiments.
We have had some mighty interesting experiences here at camp and on our trips in spite of the comparative inactivity at the front. Only last night at midnight we were awakened by the sound of shrapnel bursting and machine-gun fire. Some of us got up and went out to investigate and found the cause of the disturbance to be a German aeroplane flying in this vicinity; dozens of powerful searchlights surrounded the camp at a radius of probably a mile. These moved back and forth searching the darkness for the intruder. Star shells were sent up now and then to help in the illumination. The German flew low over camp. We could not see him, but he caused considerable commotion and some excitement.
A few days ago up near the front we witnessed an air fight between a German and two French planes. After doing some damage the German got away safe. It was a fast and exciting game while it lasted. Not long ago a German plane was dropped in full view of our camp and I saw (a few days later) a French observation balloon go up in smoke, the occupants landing safely in parachutes. There is much activity in the air, there being many "flying" camps near here. I have seen as many as twenty aeroplanes in the air at once and nearly every day one sees an enemy plane being fired at. It is only occasionally that a ground gun hits one, but they make them keep high up in the air and thus lessen their chances of taking photographs of value.
As to the actual fighting on the ground we see but little of it. Our trucks supply, almost exclusively, the artillery which is located back of or at the third line trenches. We carry the stuff as close as possible to the guns---usually, because of topography, from one-fourth to one-half mile back, and the stuff is transported forward by mules, burros, etc. We sometimes walk up to the guns and watch them operate and an interesting sight it is. The 75's are neat little guns which fire up to twenty-four shells a minute. The first time I watched one fire I thought the concussion would drop me, and my ears rang for a week. It is hard to see how the gunners stand up under the strain for months at a time.
As far as we ourselves are concerned there seems to be but little danger to our persons. We do, of course, pass through territory that is being shelled, but the chances for the individual being hit are slight. The objective of the enemy in these places back of the line is usually a bridge or road or important building. Knowing the location of these objects they aim by maps, etc., never by sight, as they are on hills out of sight of anything back of the French lines. So when a shell bursts alongside of a bridge over which the convoi is travelling and buries itself in the mud you say, "Missed it, you son of a gun!" and move on.
Often only a few cars go out at a time and it has come to be quite the thing to see which bunch can tell the wildest tale of adventure on returning to camp. All in all, this work is just an everyday grind out of which one who wishes to can get a great deal, but there is no hero stuff in the camion service and Kipling would have a hard time writing a poem on the thrills of a truck driver. Nevertheless I will have much to tell you when I return, about experiences which some of the boys have been through.
One of the looked-forward-to times is the time when we are considered filthy enough to warrant the expenditure of a little gasoline to transport us---to Heaven via the swimming hole. On these days we all pile into one of the trucks and go to a wonderful spot in a little river a few miles from camp. Here we spend two hours in the double luxury of bathing and swimming. At these times we are a great curiosity to the wondering French. Clothed in nature's own we actually get wet all over and the French soldiers don't understand it. Well, we have the times of our lives on these occasions and the man who refuses to go is a social outcast until the next swim.
So you see our life here is a pleasant one. We work and play and eat and sleep and I for one am satisfied. I will indeed be glad, however, when this hellish affair in which we now are participating is over. It is such a waste, not alone in materials,---man will always be able to feed and clothe himself,---but what is more important, in souls; and not those souls which have passed on because of the war, but in those who still live and will be alive after peace is declared. Men cannot stay civilized under the conditions imposed on both French and German privates. Living in holes in the ground with nothing much left to live for; hating not only the enemy, but themselves and the civilization which made this thing possible, they can't come out of this dirt, in which they have floundered for nearly three years, clean-hearted and straight. The thing has rotted the very core of the civilization they once knew.
It is hard to realize over there the misery which these people have so willingly suffered. Witness the story of the whole thing written on the face of one French soldier who has been through it and you have proof. My hope is that the United States will not send a few men-she must send millions of them if she does not wish to inflict on a few the suffering and stinting of the soul which all France has borne for all too long a time.
June 18. Was required to stop yesterday and take charge of five of the cars on convoy which left camp at 4 p.m. I said that we would reach camp at about 2 a.m., but didn't realize where we were going to unload when I said it. We landed back in camp at this morning after the most interesting and exciting trip we have ever taken. Our trip went as I said it would up to the point where we waited for dark before proceeding. When we started out again we left intervals of one hundred yards between camions and moved toward the front. We had never been to the town where we were expected to unload and soon found that it was closer to activities than we had ever been before. For the first time our entire convoy was in the region of shell fire.
Shells dropped in and about the town, which we found to be completely demolished and used only as an artillery base. As soon as we arrived we put the trucks in as safe places as possible and hurried into dug-outs, there to remain as long as the bombardment lasted. It was a most interesting experience and an eye-opener and a heart-breaker. Hundreds of men live or rather exist in this town under ground. They either dig out vast underground rooms or clean out the débris in a cellar under a fallen building and here put together beds and stay when not at the guns. The places are clean but damp and I can hardly realize how these men can keep their health through years of that kind of life.
During a lull Tinkham and Slim and myself went out into the dark and walked the "streets" of this one time beautiful village. Everywhere was wreckage; piles of stones which once were buildings; shell craters fifteen feet across in the streets and yards; stark trees stripped by shells. Rats---the town was full of them and added to the ghastly impression which one received of the place. Well---things began to get hot again and we made for cover. At 1:30 in the morning we considered it safe to unload, so woke up the fellows and drove to the unloading station at one end of the town. Here we were unloaded by a gang of laborers and at 3 started back for the camp. Somehow, although I was mighty glad to have been on the trip, it seemed good to get out of that hell hole and as we travelled back into the more quiet country and watched the sun rise and breathed the cool, clean morning air there were many thoughtful faces in that bunch of usually so light-hearted fellows.
Arriving in camp at 5, this morning I found your fine letter waiting for me. It came in last night when I was out on the job---coming home as I did nothing could have been more welcome and refreshing than the good news from the best of sisters. I'll sure write to you in the very near future. Truly I'm a lucky sinner---so many good things happen to me---and the best things that happen to me here are the letters from you all with the good news from home.
Apropos of being lucky you will be interested to know that I was promoted Sergeant while on the job last night. Our First Sergeant was made Chief of one of the new sections the day before with the rank of Lieutenant, and so they pushed me up a peg. I now have charge of one of the two rames in the convois and in the barracks.
Some of the boys are beginning to get clippings from the papers in the States telling in the wildest manner possible the most impossible tales about this Service. Every time one of the exaggerated items is received a disgusted and disappointed crowd is the result. We are glad to get the clippings, but are sorry that the dope cannot be handed out straight. Take what the papers say about this Service or any other with a grain of salt. France is too deeply buried in this horrible mud called war to be greatly affected by the arrival in its midst of a little group of American boys, even though we do hail from Cornell.
What gets me is that most of the articles print CORNELL and AMERICA and then follows a lot of piffle about Captain Tinkham and his bunch of sturdy Cornell men going into the battle, cheered by the French and English soldiers as they march into the trenches. Imagine a Pierce 5-ton truck marching into the trenches! I'm proud of the Cornell section, however, for it is American to the core, first and last. The other day a College section arrived here. Jumping out of the truck a cheer leader jumped upon a box and led a lusty "rah, rah -----" yell. I was surprised and more than pleased at the reception this demonstration received at the hands of our own boys. They simply rolled on the ground with laughter and jeered the "prep school stuff" down. It was rough on the new bunch, for they are fine lads, but I think they learned the lesson which many of our men needed---that it is no longer--- or Cornell or XYZ fraternity, but a man's game from the word go.
June 25, 1917.
SINCE my last letter written on the 16th, I haven't received a word from home. The mails are surely mighty slow, so I'm still hoping that tonight will bring better luck. I haven't a great deal of news this time, for our routine has been about the same every day, but I'll get this started so as to have my stride when the big mail comes in and I have the fun of answering the home letters.
First, being in a particularly selfish mood, I'll begin by telling about myself. I guess I told you in my last letter of my promotion. I am now a Sergeant---some Sergeant---what? Well, a few days ago I was told the welcome news that I would be one of the five men of our section to go to Meaux. I told you of Meaux once, but had no idea that my chance would come so soon. It is there that men are trained to become officers of transport sections,---so if I make good, my next step will be Lieutenant in charge of a section--- I surely intend to work for it. We leave here on July 1st, and remain at the school five weeks.
We will get intensive training in maps, roads, etc.---engine troubles and engines---magnetos, etc.---drill, organization of the army and of transportation, etc. Just a general intensive course to fit the men for the work in the field! Rusty goes with us, so I'll have a mighty good companion. I surely am glad for him----and for myself that he is going.
June 26. Evening. Here I am again after another day of inactivity. Usually when we do not go out on the road we are kept fairly busy around the barracks, but today we almost had a day off. Up at seven. Then after breakfast we peeled potatoes---which was as usual quite a party. The fellows all gather round a big sack of spuds and talk. Once in a while a peeled potato finds its way into the pan. Then the boys played ball against one of the other sections and I couldn't resist the temptation to go out and watch the game. It was sure fun and "we" won 11 to 4.
We have dinner at 11, when in camp. After dinner three of us walked up to town and had a bath at the infirmary, where there is a fine hot water shower bath rigged up. It is located in a stable, but it is a great luxury. In town we found a woman who had strawberries to sell and we jumped at the chance. She took us to her "home" in a loft over the shower, where she and her husband told us of their three sons.
It is the story of thousands of mothers and fathers here. The two of them were forced out of their peasant home when the Germans made their first advance over this territory. One of the sons was killed at Verdun, one is a prisoner in Germany now and has been since 1914. The other is a cavalryman active at the front now. There can be few happy moments for that good woman. Well, we bought the berries and took them to a "store," where we sat down and munched cookies and ate strawberries to our heart's content. On returning to camp I just lazed around until supper time and that brings me up to now.
I saw the postman come and go again tonight with nothing for me. I am consoled by the knowledge that when he does come with my mail there will be a great deal of it. I do long for word from you all.
July 1st. I have been so busy since starting this letter that this is my first chance to get back to it. Let me tell you what I have been doing and you will understand.
Wednesday night I was told to be ready at 6 a.m. Thursday for a trip to Paris to arrange for the officers' school. We---that is those chosen from the several sections---started in a bunch, eighteen of us. Arrived at Paris about noon, we went to the Field Service office, were sworn in, and then had a day and a half to ourselves, which we spent seeing Paris. I had many errands to do for the boys in my section out at the front. The time passed all too rapidly and we had to leave Paris again. We landed here last night, had supper at a beautiful old hotel and then were taken out to camp. I sure am the lucky boy---and for the life of me I can't figure out what I have done to deserve all the good things that come my way.
This school is a wonder. It has been running since the beginning of the war, but up to a few weeks ago only French officers were trained here. The school is on the barracks style and is strictly military in its routine, but as to equipment it is ideal. Our course starts tomorrow so I can't tell about the work, but it has a wonderful reputation for efficiency. It will mean five weeks of work (back to college again), and those who pass the course will obtain commissions in the Field Service. There is a possibility of the United States taking over the Service, in which case Americans graduated from Meaux would get commissions in the United States Army.
This whole thing is so sudden as far as I am concerned and I know so little about the school that I will reserve the details of my new experience for my future letters.
This letter I must close and get off to you. I am certainly pleased with the news of the activity in the United States. Troops are already arriving in France and on talking to some of the regulars (marines and army) in Paris I was more than pleased, in fact proud, to learn of the seriousness with which the United States is taking the all too serious situation. I sure hope to be a regular myself---soon.
I am hoping to hear from you all soon. Here's lots of love to you all and best of wishes.
July 8, 1917.
THIS is Sunday night and the end of the first week in the new camp. It has been a week full of interest and profitable employment. I certainly consider myself fortunate in having been chosen as one of the twenty Americans here.
The finest thing that happened was the arrival of two good letters from home. It was a long wait, but it certainly was worth it, for I had received no word from the States since the middle of June.
Dad, here's to company A! That is the spirit that is going to win this war. If every one will give to the extent that it is in his power to give, in whatever form he is able, it will not be long before the boys in khaki can finish their round trip. What you call doing "your bit," Dad, is as essential and as big a thing as a man's bit who qualifies and goes to the front. I can't express the pride I take in the spirit you show and have shown throughout this crisis. Let me know more about the things that Uncle Sam is doing. Where do you fellows get together? Are the people really heart and soul behind this war? etc., etc. I tell you this thing is more serious than most people think---almost everything depends on the United States and she came in just in time. I know that this is so.
We have entered on a grim, serious business and the length of time we will be in it depends absolutely on the attitude of our people. We must keep cool and make the fewest possible mistakes, but we must work fast and hard. We are up against a big game---a miserable affair---if we blunder there is no telling where or when we will end. If the people over there will get just one word fixed in their minds much good will be accomplished and that word is---"Serious"! This is not child's play---this is not San Juan Hill, this is WAR---real war,---and the mere fact that the United States is in it will not decide the outcome. The United States must realize that she is up against the stiffest proposition she has ever been required to face and she must act accordingly.
Politics must not be permitted to operate in the selection of men to officer,---or in any of the military operations. I hope the training camps are free entirely from its influence. France looks to the United States for big things. France is depending on us and we must not disappoint her.
I'll tell you now how I am situated here, at the Officers' School. The school is located just outside of this very beautiful city. It was started at the beginning of the war for the purpose of training French non-coms. as officers in the Automobile Service of the armies. Up to two months ago only Frenchmen were trained here, but on the United States declaring war the French Army requested the Field Service to branch into transport work and on accepting the new responsibility, Field Service men became eligible (on qualifying) for the French Officers' School. The school lasts five weeks each session and is usually full to capacity. We are only the second bunch of Americans to enter, and are twenty in number.
There are 150 Frenchmen here, but our work being in English we have our own barracks, study rooms, and shops. The camp consists of one big office and supply shack 80 ft. X 20 ft., one dining shack to accommodate 200 men (and the meals are good), and eight barracks 80 x 20 ft. We have one of these. At the end of it is a washroom, then two rows of beds---ten on a side. Then a partition with a door leading into our lecture-study room, which is about 20 ft. by 30 ft., and arranged with blackboards, long tables, and benches. Here we receive long lectures on the technique of the automobile, lectures on the organization of the French Army with particular reference to the Automobile Service; lectures on topography and map reading, and practice in the same; lectures on organization of automobile units, on sanitation, food, and care of men; on duties of an officer in respect to his work and his men; on convoy and road work, etc., etc.
Then there is a big amphitheatre, which we of Cornell call Bailey Hall, which seats the entire camp, and there are given lectures on engine mechanics, etc. There are three long shops containing automobiles and parts of every kind used in the French Army. There we get practical work in taking down machines, every part of which we are required to draw, after which we reassemble the machines and put them in working order.
There, too, we get lectures on shop practice. We get demonstrations in welding, soldering, and brazing---general repairs, etc. The whole course is given with the aim of giving the men, who are to officer units or sections, the knowledge essential to hold down the job most efficiently. There are two other long shacks used as study rooms for the Frenchmen, and that completes the list of structures. All the shacks are made of one thickness of wood with cinder floors and are very comfortable, though I don't see how the poor fellows exist who take this course in winter.
Every other day we go out on a road trip and get practice in the handling of the convoy on service. Each man gets a turn as officer of the day and takes full charge of the doings in camp during his day on. The other days we drill and each gets a turn at handling the unit on the march. We are up at 5 a.m. Breakfast at 6 and then lectures, shop, drill or convoy until 6 in the evening. After supper until 10 is the study hour and we usually use it. There are notes to copy, drawings to make, etc., etc., so that I can truthfully say that I have never put in such long hours (except when I took Spanish). But, though long, the hours are most profitable and interesting. Though only a five weeks' course it is exceedingly intense and thoroughly practical. Were I given the choice between this and Plattsburg I would take this, for we have seen and are seeing the methods actually used at the front and I do not think Plattsburg can equal the actual reality. All of which means only that I am satisfied. If I pass the course here I will have the same rank as a French Lieutenant. If the States takes over this service (as I hope it will) there is a possibility of those who get by here retaining the same positions under the Stars and Stripes.
We are in a wonderful part of France. If you will look up the advance of the French offensive you will realize just why. Here and in this vicinity thousands of lives were lost in the Battle of the Marne in the defense of Paris. The country in this immediate vicinity is bristling with historic interest. When we were told that we Americans would have a holiday on the Fourth of July, three of us,---Rusty, Baker, and myself,---rented bicycles and while the rest went to Paris we wandered all over the map, visiting all the towns included in the Battle of the Ourcq. It was a wonderful day in every respect. The scenery about here is exquisite---and we just took our time over beautiful roads, into towns every roof of which is of red tile, along the Marne and the Ourcq, stopping at interesting points, talking "French" to people along the way and learning much of interest. I am not allowed to name the towns, for some reason or other, but I have a postcard collection of the whole thirty miles, which I'll bring back with me and then I can tell you all about it.
The 14th is the big French holiday and we get Saturday and Sunday off then. We hope to make a two-day trip at that time to we don't know where yet, but feel that Paris would be a waste of time when we have an opportunity to see places now which will cover pages of history in the future.
Well, that is about all the news. I'll be here until August 4th, after which time I don't know where I'll be. Better send mail to T. M. V. 526, until further notice and don't forget to put on Convois Automobiles. My mail will be forwarded to me.
I am sending a couple of pictures of myself along just to show what I look like on the job and off. One was taken at the barracks at T. M. V. 526. The other was taken by one of the boys somewhere on the road to the front. The helmet is of steel, which when near the front, we are required to wear. The gas mask over my left shoulder is another required appendage and the map case on my right side contains military maps of the country in which the convoy is working. There is one of each for each family if you wish.
Well, I must close this and get to work. I shall write more often while here. Am enjoying the best of health and have nothing to complain about and everything to be thankful for. Here's hoping this finds you all well and happy. My love to you all.