^M;^ V / ' J Class BooL JUiii. CopyriglitN?. CQEmiGHT DEPOSm ON DUTY AND OFF ON DUTY AND OFF LETTERS OF ELIZABETH CABOT PUTNAM Written in France Majy 1 9 1 7 — September, 1 9 1 8 THE RIVERSIDE PRESS CAMBRIDGE I9I9 ^8 COPYRIGHT, I919, BY MARIAN C. PUTNAM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED /^.^ APR 15 !9I9 ICI.A525078 r t 90 .-^ To the memory of (\^ James Jackson Putnam ii^^ who found happiness in the beauty of sky and field and in the service of his fellow-men. This book is made up from home letters written, it need hardly be said, without thought of publica- tion. Each one of the men and women working in "the zone of the rear" has seen the drama of the war from a slightly different angle, and has his own contribution to make to our knowledge of what has happened. To add another bit to the great mosaic is my excuse for offering my daughter's letters to the public. M. c. P. CONTENTS I. An American Hospital for French Soldiers i II. An Amemcan Hospital for French Soldiers (continued) 47 III. U.S. Air Service, Paris Headquarters 78 IV. ''Bombed last night, Bombed the night before" 131 V. After ChAteau Thierry 179 VI. A U.S. Base Hospital 186 ON DUTY AND OFF CHAPTER I AN AMERICAN HOSPITAL FOR FRENCH SOLDIERS On board S.S. Chicago May 22, 1917 When I left Father on the dock I thought I should certainly burst ; I never felt so awfully in my life. I looked everywhere for him on the wharf until the boat sailed, but it is just as well I did n't see him, for I should probably have gone on shore again for good if I had. I went in to look for steamer letters and could find only one, which was rather a staggerer, — but about fifteen turned up later, as well as two books and a great basket of fruit from Uncle Frank. This boat is the most minute thing imaginable and is filled twice as full as it ought to be because the boat of the week before was taken off. In consequence there is (for over three hundred passengers) a salon holding about twenty, and a tiny bar-smoking-room ; not enough steamer chairs to go round, two '* serv- ices" of the* meals; four people in rooms that are barely equipped for two. In our stateroom there are two washstands, two tiny drawers, four double hooks, and that is all. Absolutely nothing in the way of a cupboard or closet. My room-mates are three young Frenchwomen. Two are actresses (one of 2 ON DUTY AND OFF them married and returning to a small boy) coming back after an eight months* tour in Canada. The other has been over (leaving three young children) to spend several months with her husband who is buy- ing horses in the United States for the French Gov- ernment and has been for two years. She is much higher class than the others but not a particle more amiable. They are all very good-natured, though not exactly considerate — leaving the electric light burn- ing all night, for example, and conversing at length when they are called for their bath at six a.m. How- ever, I am delighted to be with them, for I learn how to apply white-washes, lip and cheek rouge, eyebrow pencils, curling irons and fake curls — as well as some French. They go to bed at eleven, read till Heaven knows when, have baths at six, go to sleep again, have breakfast in bed, and spend the whole rest of the morning dressing. If any of us were sick it would be awful, but we're not. For my part, I never felt better. The first two days were absolutely perfect, and so warm that you sat round without a coat. To- day was much colder, overcast, and fairly rough — most marvellous electric green half hidden inside the waves — spray way over the lifeboats on the upper deck. I am sitting (evening) in a perfect hullabaloo — the dining-room full of men (except for one unbeliev- able siren) smoking, singing to the ukulele, and shouting generally. The siren has, I believe, been act- ing as a model for some advertising concern in St. Louis, where she was considered so bad that they are FRENCH WOUNDED 3 shipping her home. I am not sure whether or not she is French. She is absurdly rouged and belladonna-ed, has champagne hair done very high over cushions, and wears enormous ear-rings, white silk stockings and high-heeled slippers, and a very slight costume. Mr. Sedgwick assures me she consumes large quanti- ties of champagne whenever it goes, and it goes very often, as you get here for two dollars what you pay eight dollars for in New York. The last two evenings I have sat out on the deck near enough to a group of excellent singers to be able to sing with them unperceived. One evening a man came along and sat with me, in the pitch dark (no lights allowed, all windows covered), and we had a long and pleasant talk (he was a travelling man from Oklahoma), but I have no idea what he looks like and he probably does n't realize that and thinks I cut him dead next day. You see he saw me when he opened the door to let me in, but I did n't like to turn round and stare at him. A brilliant pink sunset to-night promises fair weather for to-morrow. We don't want it too fair, as submarines can't work well in rough seas. We have had one "drill" which consisted in putting on a life- preserver and standing at a given place on the deck. May 26 I don't learn as much French as you 'd hope from my room-mates, as we arrange (or rather I arrange, for I must say the two ladies of the stage do just as they please) never to be there together except in the 4 ON DUTY AND OFF middle of the night. The superiority of the wife of the horse-buyer becomes every day more apparent. The last two evenings I have Hstened to a steady rush of talk from a most ingenuous and incongruous lad. He has told me all his affairs without a question from me, and from the amount he knows about other * people on the boat I do not flatter myself that it is my wonderfully sympathetic nature that has drawn him out. He comes from a weirdly named town in Illinois, where his father is a foreman in a machine-shop. He is a mechanic himself and apparently earns upward of two hundred dollars a month, though he is only twenty-one. He finds he can get no further without a college degree, so when he has saved enough he plans to go to Tech. He lies there in his chair thinking of wonderful ways to make money, and he is going to make all he can in his off- time abroad — writing for newspapers, etc. He talks a great deal about money, but I gather that he wants it in order to see more and learn more. He has told me all about his "gurrl- friend" whose graduation from high school, for which he had waited four years, took place the night after he left. He keeps enunciating high moral truths in the most genuine and extraordinary way ; and he is much puzzled about some of the Bible — for instance, he has heard several versions of Daniel in the lions' den and doesn't see how they can all be literally true! He wears light gloves and minds tobacco smoke; and he has shovelled forty tons of coal a day into a furnace, when twenty is what the average stoker can do. FRENCH WOUNDED 5 The queer thing about the passengers is that they are almost all between twenty and thirty. There may be some few boys younger, and ten or so older, up to forty, perhaps. It is raining to-day. We have had no sun since Monday. We are due Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. No one seems to worry about submarines — the French least of all. May 27 This is the most perfect day imaginable — just the weather for the Kayoshk and a little too favorable for submarines. If the sleeping accommodations were de- cent, and the weather stayed like this, I should wish the voyage three weeks longer. Last night most of us slept in our clothes and felt it a great waste when we woke up safe and sound this morning. I am never parted from Arthur's waistcoat and Aunt Amy's whistle. I even slept in the waist- coat. To-night we are to make no noise on deck and not have even the glow of a cigarette. The injunction against noise is most necessary, and thanks to it I hope to get more sleep to-night. . . . The boats are all swung out, ready to be lowered. We expect to get in to-morrow night, and when we do I am going to tele- graph to the H6tel des Etats Unis for a room and also to Bob on the chance that he can meet me. It makes you feel awfully queer to be so near possi- ble submarines. I am sure, though, that if we are hit we shall get off in the boats all right. 6 ON DUTY AND OFF lo p.m. After half an hour*s hard work I am ready for bed and feel that I must tell you about my preparations. I have to look decently, in case we are coules during the night, and yet be as comfortable as possible for the uneventful night we shall probably have. I have on about all my regular clothes, including two heavy underpockets with passport, etc., my huge whistle round my neck, and the Neversink Waistcoat on. In the pocket of the latter is a pair of spectacles. Rolled up at the head of my bunk is my long coat, and in its pockets three cakes of Dot, a piece of string, and a case holding hairpins and clean handkerchiefs. I sit here roaring with laughter to myself, and yet the purser has just been to Mr. Sedgwick to say he un- derstood he had undressed last night and he ought not to to-night. You know, really the time you most mind the thought of submarines is when you are in your bath. I spend about five minutes arranging my clothes on pegs so that I can get into them in an instant's time, but even then it is nervous work. Well, I will turn in; but imagine whether I shall be warm, waistcoat and all ! Not a porthole on the ship open! May 29 They say we get well into the river at ten or eleven to-night and land early to-morrow morning. This is our last day and I can't believe it. This curious ad- venture called "going to France" is about to begin. I feel rather swamped. FRENCH WOUNDED 7 Neuilly-sur- Seine f June$ Well, I am actually here. It all seems so natural that I can't believe I am not still at home, in a way. I suppose you would like to know all kinds of silly lit- tle things about how I arrived and what I did next and so forth. It takes so long to write, even on the typewriter, and I ought to be studying my French lesson and my anatomy. Everything takes so much time! It takes half an hour to get in to Paris. Well, to go back to the boat. The last afternoon I was down in my stateroom, in more or less undress, packing, when the steward came rushing down and shouted to the boys in the room opposite: '*A tor- pedo!" The boys tore off at once and I thought our last hour had come, and started, just as I was, for the deck. Luckily, before I got very far I realized that every one was taking it very calmly; and it turned out to be a boat that had been sent by the French Government to convoy us. That evening, about half past ten, the canvas sides to the deck were taken down and all lights lighted, and we were safe. It really was very exciting. We were then in the mouth of the river and anchored there for the night on account of the tide. In the morning I made a slight error in time (having long since broken my watch) and arrived on deck at six-thirty instead of eight-thirty. We were in a most lovely river, with the greenest shores you ever saw and little white castles or lighthouses or some- thing, and a large fleet of square-rigged vessels — which have been pulled out of their hiding-places in order to free the modern boats. 8 ON DUTY AND OFF All morning was spent in the most hectic endeavor to get our luggage vis6ed by the douane and checked for the right place ; anything worse managed I have never seen. But after lunch, with free minds we sat down to enjoy the countryside. I won't try to de- scribe it, because there is n't time in this letter, but it was almost jungle-like in its richness, and there were terraced vineyards and castles and everything one could ask. We got on shore by four and dumped our things at the hotel. I decided to forego my military pass and pay my own fare, as I should have had to sit up all night in a third-class compartment with two other women and five men. By spending the night at Bordeaux we had time to visit a most unusually beautiful cathedral and three old churches — one dating from the eleventh century, where Henry Plan- tagenet married Eleanor of something or other. I had to do all the talking in French ! The journey next day was well worth waiting for. Such enchanting villages, with the cottages all made of the same kind of stone, with reddish tiled roofs grown over with moss, gardens full of roses, and everywhere the most marvellous green trees of a thou- sand different sorts. I am longing, on the way home, to stop off at some one of the little villages, for they are really too adorable. Some were built on the side of a steep hill, just as they are in Italy. And every- where masses and masses of white locust, all in full blossom. Of course I Ve left out a thousand things — such as the queer costumes in Bordeaux, and the regiments FRENCH WOUNDED 9 coming and going; we saw two negro or Algerian regi- ments. In Bordeaux, too, being in a hotel right at the railway station, we saw many sad partings between families and men, and many rapturous meetings. We reached Paris at half-past eight in the evening and drove straight to the Etats Unis — and there was Bob sitting right there, writing. He looks finely and about ten years younger than when he left. I was rarely gladder to see any one. The next morning I reported at the Ambulance to the very charming and agreeable Mrs. Munroe, who told me to get my permis de s6jour and come Monday morning to be vaccinated (I should have been before coming) and measured for my uniform and have my work explained. Which I did and it was. Then I went to see J.*s friends and found them more than cordial and so attractive, except in that they could n't take me till the middle of July. Thence to Madame Lauth, whose address Mrs. Parkman gave me, and I am there now, until the middle of July, when she goes out of town and I go to the Henris'. I really am in great luck, for they are a large family of interesting and very musical people. The father is a doctor, a specialist in tuberculosis, and is a perfect darling. He is about sixty-five, I should say, and had given up practice before the war; but now he spends ten to twelve hours a day in the tuberculosis ward of a French military hospital. Even so, he finds energy to give me a French lesson which I enjoy to the utmost — Father would like to hear him mimic my e — he shouts at me when I do wrong and pats my hand or hugs lo ON DUTY AND OFF me when I do right — and then, later in the evening, plays on the piano or *cello. The son, Henri, of seven- teen or eighteen, is almost a genius at music and can play anything, right off the bat, on the violin or pi- ano. There is a daughter of twenty-four and three young French girls, boarders, who are studying one thing or another, and an American woman. They all talk French all the time, naturally, and I can't say I get an awful lot of the general conversation, — be- cause they talk about real things and that is very dif- ferent from saying that you want a hot bath or a cup of tea. My French is adequate for getting what I need, but not for talking. However, I am sure to learn, and I shall have plenty of time at the Ambu- lance to talk with the men to my heart's content. The house is a regular city house, but has a large gar- den behind, with big trees, where we have our supper. Heaven be praised, I think I can hold down the job. In fact it apparently will not take all my time, so, later, when I have mastered French and got the job down to a fine point, I shall ask for more work. My work as historian is about as follows. Each patient (all French, of course) comes in with a certain num- ber of papers scribbled in atrocious handwritings, sometimes in pencil, from a poste de secours or other hospitals, and on entering the Ambulance a card is given him to be filled out by me. From the various papers I find out his name, address, regiment, ward and bed number, where wounded, when, by what, first dressing, how soon, following dressings (oh, no, I forgot, you only get the first six things from the FRENCH WOUNDED u papers, and also what the first diagnosis was; the others you get from him); also what operations he has had and what they were. If he has an X-ray you examine it and try to find out for yourself what it shows. You try to gather what the present diagnosis is, and if you can't, you ask the doctor. The doctor is as good-natured as possible, but it is apparently poor form to ask him anything you could possibly guess for yourself. But what you can't guess, and the final note of evacuation, you ask him for. All this informa- tion has to be written both in French and in English. I have borrowed an anatomy book from the doctor with whom I live and shall have to learn all the bones, etc., in French. Curiously enough, you don't seem much nearer the war here than you do at home. Of course, there are all the wounded men, when you have time to take them in, and every other person — more — in the street is in heavy mourning; and the car conductors are women ; and sugar is scarce. But Paris is just the same big, busy city it was when we were here before, as far as I can see. If I were more equal to taking in the talk I suppose I should know more. Of course, so far, I have spent almost all my time getting a permis de s6jour, which I have n't yet achieved. My photo- graphs were too big and we had to traipse all around to find a photographer — the first six we tried be- ing closed "a cause de mobilisation." In that kind of practical way — too little coal to have hot baths or to have the elevators in the big stores run more than half the day — you do feel the difference. 12 ON DUTY AND OFF On Sunday Mr. Sedgwick and Mr. Davis and I went to the Sainte Chapelle and Notre Dame, and then Mr. Sedgwick took me to lunch with a cousin of his who works at the Ambulance. Mr. Sedgwick has cer- tainly been good to me. This afternoon when I am in town — I have had to go in every day since I came — I am going to try to get a ticket for a service next Sunday at Notre Dame in memory of fallen Belgians. I read about it in the paper and I am sure it will be interesting. Sunday afternoon I took a walk in the Bois. Everything is such a distance here ! And it is as hot as July — with cool nights, however. June 9 I got my first letters from home yesterday and you may believe I was glad to have them. I wish Father were living here because he would like this family so much. I am really uncommonly glad to be with them, and Madame Lauth said to tell you they were tres contents to have me and felt that I was a real friend. People come to the house more or less, so I have a chance to hear them all talk to- gether — though I may say right here that I am aw- fully slow at learning, even to understand. Dr. Lauth is a charmer and I love the lessons I have with him. I read long poems of Lamartine and selections from Chateaubriand, and he criticises. My e is like a bleat. I wish each day were six times as long, so that I could spend a whole day at the Ambulance, another learning French and reading ''War Wounds," and a FRENCH WOUNDED 13 third in visiting people and places and writing letters. To-morrow is Sunday and I can answer some of my steamer letters, but I have to arrange my wash for three weeks and fix my tabliers d'infirmiere, which are too small in the waist and too long. I leave here at three-thirty to go to Notre Dame, and am counting on doing lots of studying. Later We have just been having a wonderful evening of music — a Beethoven trio for *cello, violin, and pi- ano, and other trios, and a Bach thing for voice ac- companied by the three, and selections from *' Or- pheus" for the same. Henri, the lad of seventeen, who finishes his lyc6e in a few weeks, played alter- nately violin and piano, and his teacher, an orchestra leader, played first violin. Finally Henri played mar- vellously on the piano ; and afterwards his mother just said, ** Think of all that music going to the war. War is cruel," She has lost her older boy in the war al- ready, though from diphtheria, not from wounds — and Henri starts training, in artillery as an engineer, as soon as he graduates. He is an uncommonly nice boy, with the best manners, fundamental and super- ficial, I ever saw. Poor Madame Lauth is a person of very strong feelings, very active and keen, as if she would soon burn herself out. You have to laugh a great deal at the Ambulance because the men laugh all the time. It is so abso- lutely different from an ordinary hospital. Most of the men are in excellent condition, and when they are 14 ON DUTY AND OFF not new, or newly operated on, or having their wounds dressed, they are apparently in uproariously good spirits. They believe in taking one day at a time, I guess, and the relief of being out of the trenches must be great. Anyhow, they are always making jokes and poking fun at each other and at the nurses. Most of them try to learn a little English, and I shall get some kind of French- English book for beginners. I think also that I can read aloud to them — Ars6ne Lupin — to our mutual edification. In the morning, with dressings, etc., everything is very busy, but in the afternoon there is a pleasant sense of leisure, and I can foresee much delightful companionship with the men when I am abreast with my job. The doctor is a Pittsburgh man. He is very good-natured and ready to be asked any questions and to show you what is going on in a surgical way. He says I may see some operations later. There is no point in my going into a description of the wounds for I don't know enough; they are terrible and when you see the men laughing and fooling you can't believe theirs are as bad ; but then you see theirs dressed the next morn- ing and they are just as bad. Sometimes the wounds are very evident, for they expose them to the sun, in the window or in the garden. And speaking of gar- dens, one of the chief rose-growers of France is a worker at the Ambulance and he has given beds of the most beautiful roses I have ever imagined — more beautiful. They are good-sized roses on low bushes and are every shade from pale yellow to deep red — unbelievable shades of orange and buff. The whole FRENCH WOUNDED 15 hospital is most attractive — at least in this weather — and some one sends in flowers (of which the streets are full) for the wards every week. There are two enormous dining-rooms full of peo- ple, for all the ambulanciers of the Paris Service eat there, too. My work is all on one corridor; seven wards of ten beds each — 63 to 69, tell Jamie, on the ground floor, across the end farthest from the front door. I should imagine this hospital was as well equipped as any at home, though, of course, I don't know. Four of my wards are of oflicers and three of poilus. June II I have only just begun to get into my work, though it seems to me as if last Monday, when I be- gan doing more or less, was a hundred years ago ; it is extraordinary to think that it was only a week ago that I was vaccinated and introduced to my prede- cessor and measured for my — cap and gown, I was going to say, and it is cap and dress. I wear — or shall when the dressmaker sees fit to bring me my dress — a rather bright Copenhagen blue dress with white muslin collars and cuffs, a big white apron cov- ering almost all the skirt and having a square tab in front with shoulder straps, and a little white muslin cap a good deal like what girls wear in a choir. One gets awfully fond of the men almost at once, they are so very friendly, and so childlike in their capacity for enjoyment. It gives them the most ex- quisite pleasure to say "Good morrning, Mees Pet* i6 ON DUTY AND OFF nam/' in English; they only know my name in one ward, where they were trying especially to learn English and where I insisted on their calling me prop- erly. Otherwise they just call all the auxiliaries "Mees." To-day I met one of my blesses on the street, en permission, and he recognized me before I fairly saw him, and you can't imagine what a thrill it gave me — I feel as though I were really part and parcel of it now. My actual work won't be hard at all when once I have learned the vocabulary. Just at present it is a little puzzling to have to translate the diagnosis of entrance and discharge, and the treatment, into French. The doctor knows almost no French. How- ever, it is a limited vocabulary, and I am learning it — I know all the ordinary bones and organs and a good many operative words. The hardest thing is tak- ing the notes that have been written by hand — and a villainous one — by French doctors in the ambu- lances the bless6 has been to before reaching Paris, and making sense out of them enough to boil them down, in case there was an operation, or pass them over if there has been none — just getting from them the original diagnosis and the vulnerative agency, which is almost invariably 6clat d'obus. I think I shall learn a good deal, for I have a very nice doctor and can always watch the dressings and ask any questions I want — provided the m^decin chef is not present ; if he is, the strictest silence is preserved, although he is a very pleasant, understanding, rather young man, who certainly does n't look as if he were a stickler FRENCH WOUNDED 17 for form. I dare say that might be the same in any hospital. ... I have been building blocks this evening with an awfully cunning and fearfully bright little girl of four, daughter of the cook here, who informs you, with questioning, that her father is "a la guerre'* where **il tue les Boches," and that she does n't like **Guillaume" **parcequ'il a fait mal a Papa" — all with the utmost cheerfulness. If anything goes wrong with her she says, "C'est la guerre." Her poor father has n't been heard from since the first month of the war, and no one knows whether he is alive or dead* June 13 I wish Jamie were here, to see if the Ambulance has advanced a good deal since 191 5. Was Dakin's solution the thing then? It is a disinfectant which hangs in a glass vessel over the bed and is turned on every so often, and — I thought allowed to run for an hour at a time. Thus, when the nurse left the other day and told me to turn on two Dakin things at two o'clock, I almost inundated one man by leaving it running. Fortunately there was very little in the ves- sel, and the other man was able to make me under- stand the idea — namely, that you turn it on for two seconds only. But I spent an awful night, that night, because I suddenly remembered that the solution burns the skin and that the skin around the wound is carefully covered by oiled silk for that reason — and I knew the man's back had got wet and had visions of him with no skin left. Next day he was as well as i8 ON DUTY AND OFF ever. I imagine the extensions are much more elabo- rate than when Jamie was here. I will write him about some of them, some day at the Ambulance. . . . June 17 The event of the week has been the arrival of Pershing — whom the French call by every name ex- cept his own, including "Pere Ch6ri" — and that was very exciting. Not that anything in particular happened — they had not put his arrival in the pa- pers, and though there was a very enthusiastic crowd it was not a large one — at the Crillon Hotel, that is; I believe it was bigger at the station. I was in the hotel lobby when he came in, so I got a good look at him and thought him a very decent representative of the race. After he went upstairs I went out, thinking all was over, and found that Joffre was just coming. It made you weep to hear the French cheer Joffre ; I never heard anything like it; and they all looked so devoted to him and so full of joy at his return. Of course, Pershing did not get anything like the en- thusiasm Joffre did — quite properly — on this first appearance, but then the crowd started crying, ** Au balcon! Au balcon!" with a rhythm like a cheer, and Pershing came out on his balcony and bowed and smiled, and then there was a roar of **Vive I'Ame- rique," I can assure you. It made me wildly proud and perfectly sick. I am as bad as Aunt B, these days, for crying, and if I am to get on with this letter I must leave this subject and tell you about the service last Sunday at Notre Dame. Except this : I waved my flag FRENCH WOUNDED 19 up above the crowd when Pershing was in the bal- cony and felt sure he saw it and smiled at me — but as I heard four other people say the same thing, I sup- pose it was not so. I enclose the programme of the service at Notre Dame. It really was the most beautiful singing I al- most ever heard — coming from everywhere and no- where at once. We were at the very back of the church. I think the music was almost more wonderful there, where it seemed to be born and not made. The organ- ist, you will notice, was that very same Widor whose name appears, as composer, on every organ recital you ever went to in Boston. The long discourse, of course, I could not understand — we were not nearly near enough to hear the words distinctly — and we could not see any of the ceremonial. However, the music took most of the time. After the service, I went with Mr. Sedgwick to a very gay restaurant called the **Cafe de Paris" where we had the most delicious — and far the most expensive, thank Heaven — meal I have ever eaten. Food, like everything else, is horribly expensive, most of the ordinary things having tripled in price; and coal is terrible — the amount that used to cost forty francs now costs about two hundred and thirty francs. For that reason hot water is a great luxury and washing poorly done. The day I went in to greet Pershing I saw a hand waving through an iron fence, and there was Louisa, looking more ridiculously natural than any one I have seen yet; no amount of foreign country will af- fect her. After a few minutes Penelope came to join 20 ON DUTY AND OFF her. They are coming out Tuesday to see the Am- bulance. Another thing I did last week was to visit the ** Petit Ouvroir du Gros Caillou," where the girls and women of the quarter are given sewing to do — ex- quisite lingerie — and their families looked after gen- erally, You go through the door of a perfectly ordinary house, and come out into a courtyard that is almost like Guillaume le Conquerant. The houses go round three sides of the court, which has trees and shrubs and a tiny vegetable garden in it; the part of the house opposite the Ouvroir has carved window frames and balconies, and kings and queens painted in faded colors on the wooden wall. Paris is so unex- pected : you are always going through houses into de- lightful little courts; but this is far the best I have seen. My work is pretty well in hand now. I want to learn a little nursing, but I don't want to let go of the history work, for if there is an attack near here there will be plenty of that to do and I would rather do it than just nursing. The men don't seem to want to make things, much, so I shan't have a chance to do much that way. One of the English nurses with whom I talked said they were so different from the Tom- mies, who always wanted to be doing and making things; but these men liked to have things done for them. They do certainly enjoy talking, though, and so do I. And they like little attentions. I spent the first of my give-away money yesterday — two francs ! — on some sweet peas for the two worst cases — FRENCH WOUNDED 21 young men, both of them, with such sad faces. Their cases, I dare say, will not be bad eventually, but for some time past they have been suffering greatly. On our Fourth of July I plan to give each of my seventy men a tiny bouquet of red, white, and blue flowers, just a boutonniere; I know they will like that. I think, however, that most of my money will go into artificial legs. The Government provides only a broomstick, and such good legs can be got with money — good to use and good-looking. Then there is also the question of providing for the wives when they come up to visit the men; they get a reduction in the railway fare, but I don't think they are put up free anywhere after they get here. In the hospital the men are really very well provided for. There is a French and English library, where they can go or have books sent down, and there are plenty of pic- ture puzzles; but they don't seem to be used much by the men in my corridor — either puzzles or books. Any one who wants to do bead-work or make baskets or do other such things is taught how and given ma- terials. It is awfully different in the little country hospitals. I talked yesterday with a nurse who had been in a small hospital at Lyons and she said the people of the town seemed to take no interest in the hospital and never visited the men or brought them any flowers or fruit, and that the hospital fare was not nearly as good as it is here. To return to the men ; — there are two entirely different kinds of enjoyment to get from them and give to them, according to whether they are poilus or 22 ON DUTY AND OFF officers. Of course, that is natural, only it took me several days to find it out. With the poilus you be- have as if they were children, and jolly them along, and they jolly you back and are always shouting out jokes and making more or less noise. I read aloud to two of them and they correct my pronunciation and make terrific jokes about the 6cole and the profes- seur, and insist on my asking for permission of just so many hours whenever I am not coming that day. And they smoke while I read, and knock the ashes out on to the floor. The officers are just the most delightful, cultivated, and charming lads that ever were — young, almost every one, about twenty-two. They have their own china and their own clothes, more or less, and colored silk socks, and have their shoes shined for them, and get to be very particular about their appearance. There is one aviator, in par- ticular, wounded (to his great disgust) in his very first battle, who has no mustache and therefore looks very homelike, who is a dream of beauty in his violet pajamas, and just as agreeable as can be. But he wants what he wants when he wants it! All these particular officers speak excellent English. The weeks go like flashes when I am in them and seem a hundred years long in looking back. The ther- mometer registers from 82° to 84° and feels worse. Write very often — everybody about once a week, I should say. June 19 Penelope and Louisa have just been out here, seeing the Ambulance and then coming to tea chez FRENCH WOUNDED 23 Madame Lauth, and my word, they are nice! While they are waiting for their hospital, which is being moved from St. Valerie to Evreux, they are working at the French Wounded and at a canteen at the Gare de I'Est. I am going there with them Saturday from five to eight and think I shall arrange to go regularly two afternoons a week. They serve meals at the sta- tion all day long to men who have come from the coun- try on their way to the front and can*t afford a decent meal in Paris, and men en permission who are on their way to the country. The girls say the place is al- ways going full force, every one working just as hard as she can, and very dirty. It will make a good contrast to the Ambulance, where everything is airy and sunny and in perfect order and cleanliness. You never could guess what I did Sunday last — a day when it was 89° : I went to Paris because I had never delivered that bundle that was sent me from California and went way over to the Latin Quarter and up five flights of stairs and there found a delight- ful young woman in a lovely pink silk negligee, who showed me her charming apartment (overlooking a huge convent-yard full of trees, and an old convent) and gave me a bath ! — in a lovely new American bathroom, all white porcelain, with cologne in the water and a great big bath-towel. — The first real bath I have had since the first night in Paris. I shall never forget that bath. And she invited me to come in and have another sometime! Such hospitality is perfec- tion. The weather has seemed very hot, though it has 24 ON DUTY AND OFF not gone above 89°, and I can't tell you how I pity those men lying in bed with three or four inches of dressings round their arms and legs, or in plaster casts. If there is any wind it blows through the wards beautifully, but most days there is n't. I saw a girl to-day who had just landed in Bor- deaux. They were fired at twice and sent seven shots in response; two days from land! But of course you have seen that in the papers — probably before I knew it. She had n't slept for seventy-two hours. June 25 How the boys can stand the pain as they do, I can't imagine. There is one awfully good-looking boy of twenty-two, Michel Aurnaque by name, who has a compound fracture of the right radius and ulna and of the left tibia and fibula. He has an overhead exten- sion of the arm and leg, and the leg fracture was so near the foot that a steel bar had to be put through the heel for an extension of eight pounds! It was put on the loth of May and had just been taken off when I began work, about June 4th. He never said a word while all that was going on ; but he certainly made a fuss the other day when he had a boil behind his ear! He is a farmer from the borders of France and Spain. I went the round of my wards with the dressing- cart the other day — I don't mean doing anything, just watching. I saw the forearm of a boy which seemed to amount to almost nothing — just part of the bone (the full length, pretty nearly, but split) and the skin and flesh about half the way round; all FRENCH WOUNDED 25 the rest gone, from elbow (interior surface) to wrist ; the X-ray when he came showed the two bones bent almost into a Z ; he also had a high amputation of one leg, but the arm was worse. I have not seen any operations yet, but the doctor will take me almost any time, I think. The face cases are the most terrible. There is one man with about half his face gone and a great round hole in his fore- head; but the interesting part of him is that his one good eye is so full of good-humor and genialness that he is positively attractive to look upon. When Jamie was here did they have a case of plaster casts of face cases, first one when the man came in, then one or two in later stages, including the last? It is marvel- lous; only, of course, a plaster cast does not show the scars and little details like that. George J. turned up here at supper- time the other day and took me in town to dine — very delicious, I can assure you. It was great to see him: he is always one of the nicest people I know. Paris is a funny place about food and other things. The shops are filled with beautiful and gorgeous clothes and the Rue de Rivoli has just the same show- ing of luxurious trifles as ever. The other day I went to call on a most agreeable Frenchwoman of about forty-five who lives alone and supports herself, still, by giving bridge lessons at twenty francs an hour. Saturday night I went in and served dinners to permissionnaires returning to the front or coming from it, at the Gare de I'Est. I can tell you it's quite a scramble and I love doing it. They pay fifteen sous at 26 ON DUTY AND OFF the door and get a slip with *'potage et pain," "vi- ande et legumes," *'biere," "dessert," and "cafe," printed on it. I take the slips as they sit down at table, wait till all twelve seats are filled, and then run madly up to the serving counter with a huge tray and get twelve bowls of soup, leaving in exchange twelve "potage" torn off the slips, and run back spilling the soup at every step ; but no one would care if I deluged myself, the floor, and everything else in sight, as far as the mess was concerned. I put the soup before them, tear off and get twelve beers, leaving my "biere" slips, and by that time they are ready for the meat and vegetables and I have to find out how many prefer meat and how many fish. When they are safely at that course the real trouble begins, for above their heads is a printed list of "supplements" — second helps, salads, and wine — which they can have by paying extra; but the prices are printed in centimes, and you are told about them in sous, and the men give you one sou, two sous fifty centimes (which is Heaven knows how many centimes !) and one franc. You have to make sure every one has paid, make the change, and remember that it is one salad, two beers, one wine, one vegetable without meat, one meat without vegetables, one five-centimes piece of bread, and one ten-centimes piece of bread. I can tell you what, histories in French and English are absolutely nothing compared with that. Then, when they have finished (you conversing sweetly with the two near- est in odd minutes about the best method of learning a foreign language, and when the war will be over), FRENCH WOUNDED 27 you pile up the dishes any old way on to your waiter, go staggering down the room with it, return and brush the slops (there is no other word for it) off on to the floor, and set the table for the next comers — spoon and fork (they are supposed to have their own knives), enormous piece of bread — I guess that's all. In spite of its sounding so unattractive, the food really looks very good, and they get good big helpings. Dessert was cherries or cheese, and every one had coffee. It was great fun, and I have signed on to go from five to eight every Tuesday and Saturday eve- ning. There is the greatest difference of opinion about the state of the war and the importance of our as- sistance. But I get to feel more and more as if our coming might be the one thing to turn the balance. I do hope we shall send men very soon. June 2'j Last night I was so tired I lay down all dressed and slept for an hour before going to bed. It was my sec- ond trip to the Gare de I'Est, and the trays were heavy and I did n't get through till half-past eight instead of eight, and I took the wrong Metro, so I went a much longer way home and had to stand most of the way. I have now been here about four weeks and not once have I had a man offer me his seat — or seen him do it to any other woman — and the way they push in the subway is inconceivable. American men certainly have better manners than Frenchmen. I would n't mind if they were soldiers, for you feel 28 ON DUTY AND OFF that they have earned anything (a seat, I mean), but they are not. The Gare de TEst is great fun, and last night I acquired a filleul, — if I can make out the in- volved address he gave me ; I guess one of the men at the Ambulance can. He was the last to leave the table and he looked absolutely miserable (he is not a beauty) and on the verge of tears, and said, ''Mainte- nant la boucherie " and then went on to explain some- thing about his family which I did not fully under- stand, but I think he said his two brothers had been killed (though I also heard something about "ampu- tation") and his mother had died. Anyhow, he said he now had no one, and I said, '* Et pas de marraine?" and he said, '* Pas de marraine " ; — et voila. I hope I shall be able to reach him, or he will think I 'm faith- less. Of course I never thought to give him my ad- dress. Yesterday I really felt, for about the first time, that my diddling around the Ambulance with the bless6s really counted for something, for one lad con- fessed to being bored to tears and I started him off on a picture puzzle (though he is flat on his back, al- most) and three or four others came and helped him ; and when I went in to give my English lesson I found the man was very nervous and depressed over the operation he was about to have in half an hour and the lesson quite took his mind off that and he learned to say ''Good luck" ; and then I met another man, in the garden, who asked me if I had n't any more of the "jeux" — picture puzzles. So that goes. And they have stiffened up the histories a little — making me FRENCH WOUNDED 29 add the diagnoses and interventions of the previous hospitals ; so I guess I can find enough to do. Perhaps I had better go to the Gare de I'Est a third evening. June 30 I am up in Mrs. Munroe's office answering ques- tions (of which there are almost none) while she is making the rounds of the auxiliaries — she has about ninety, I believe, and she sees them every day. Then I shall go down to my regular work, and this after- noon I am to see an operation for the first time. I have found one little additional job I can do in three of my wards — attend to sending the diagnoses each week on little cards to the families, with a message from each man. Apparently the men never have any- thing to say and don't want to write, but it is a French Government rule that they shall. I think it will be fun, for I can invent things for them to say, and it is certainly more in line with my work than the head nurse's. We are going fast and furious on picture puzzles. I have bought a number, for they have not the patience to undertake the long ones which are chiefly what the Ambulance has. For about a week I have given them a new one every day, but I can't keep that up forever. I had the brilliant idea last night that perhaps some of them could draw crayon pictures on the other side, so we should have a double set. I know one of the men can draw. Some of the men really have the sweetest faces that ever were, and goodness, they are young! And 30 ON DUTY AND OFF | look even younger. But I wish I could understand French better. I do so wonder how our own soldiers will compare with the French as patients — wonder- ful (most of them) about the pain, always ready to smile and to appreciate anything you do. I dare say ours will be just as nice — only I feel as if they would be more exacting. I met an American boy the other day at the Gare de I'Est and he accompanied us to the Gare du Nord to the ''American party." He told us, and I guess every one else he met, all about himself. He was quite attractive, with a thin, very keen face and good sense of humor and friendly to the last de- gree. He had been in the American Army six years, though he looked about twenty, and in the Foreign Legion two years, had then gone to pieces mentally, and at his own request had been sent to a hospital. He had been there four or five months and was now on his way to Lyons for a month and then expected to be transferred to the American camp as instructor. The "American party" was awfully nice and I should think would do a really good job. There were , about three hundred men there, I should say, who i were going back to the front the next morning. The first comers sat round long tables with nice clean tablecloths and roses down- the centre. They had bread and pinard and cherries — the last passed off and on all evening. The later comers sat round on the beds, of which there were about fifty or seventy-five I should say; otherwise the men sleep all over the floor of the station or street or anywhere. When every one had had something to drink (piano going all FRENCH WOUNDED 31 the time), a man got up and gave them a welcome and introduced a string of singers who really per- formed very well and got every one to laughing and singing. That kept on for an hour, I should say, and they distributed then those little "comfort bags" that the French Wounded (and I dare say other people) send over. They contain perhaps a razor, pair of socks, soap, comb, writing-paper, piece of chocolate, and picture post-cards. One man did n't get any razor and wanted awfully to know if he could not have one separate. They really are crazy about the bags. Then each man had an American flag. I left just after an impassioned speech by some one about the sacrifices the soldiers were making, and that each man should go off feeling that we really cared enormously about him. It was quite stirring. Then every one sang the ** Marseillaise" — the only time I have heard it here and quite enough to last me for some time. July I Life here is really just as difficult — there are just as many things to decide — as at home. I sort of felt that one would get right down to first principles and that the things one did would be so urgent that there would be practically no choice in the matter. But not at all. In the Ambulance, for example, there is at present a very quiet time, with very few admissions, so that my work — the things I absolutely have to do — can be put through in anywhere from half an hour to an hour and a half a day ; and then I have to choose and decide what to do the rest of the time. What I do. 32 ON DUTY AND OFF the bulk of the rest of the time, is to try to enliven the men and give them a good time; and of course I think that is very worth while, poor lads — some of them have been in the hospital two years — though as a matter of fact I think those cases are pretty well settled down to a satisfactory existence, and the ones who are most bored are those who have been there a month or two. At present we are going very heavily on picture puzzles, and the men are crazy about them and leap from their beds if I come in with a new one. I have not yet tried them on the officers — except on one who said he had n't nearly enough patience, and then apologized profusely for not being more appre- ciative; but I guess I had better try them out to- morrow. But, of course, the officers read a great deal and go out on permission more: the men hoot with derision if you ask them if they would like something to read. The officers are usually very entertaining, but naturally are more self-sufficient and have more friends coming to see them. It is perfectly thrilling to think that we actually have troops over here ! The longer I am here the more I wish we could put millions of men into the field at once — and that we had done so before. There are to be all kinds of festivities here on the Fourth — but you will see all that in the papers, of course. I am going to the big market at half-past six in the morn- ing to buy poppies, daisies, and bachelor's buttons, for little bouquets for all my men. There is to be a grand dejeuner at the Ambulance, all the food with military names — and afterwards a service in the FRENCH WOUNDED 33 chapel, with singing and speeches. I can't hear the Ambulance things and the town ones, too, I am afraid, but I guess I will stick by the ship. I will now begin and keep a real diary for at least a week and see how it comes out. Sunday, July i Breakfast at eight (as usual). Went up the street to send Cynthia a telegram saying I would be chez- elle at twelve-thirty. (Which dates back to one day earlier in the week when I went into the French Wounded to see it, under the guidance of Louisa H., and suddenly Cynthia appeared, dressed almost in regular ambulance uniform, only with a skirt, and it seems she is there, driving a camion every day and all day for them. She was taking Louisa over to deliver some great sacks of sheets, etc., at a little hospital managed by Sisters, under the French Red Cross, way across Paris somewhere. So I made her take me, too — somewhat against rules. That was good fun, for the Sisters were awfully nice and cordial and simple-hearted, and we went in and handed round cigarettes — Cynthia's — to the bless6s, who were at lunch. There was only one in bed and they all have to work all morning in the hospital vegetable gar- den.) Then I read and wrote letters till eleven or so, packed up my things for the Gare and went in to Cynthia's. Of course the telegram had n't reached her and she was out. I enjoyed a solitary meal at Henriette's, a restaurant close by — the first meal I have had alone (with a book) in years and years. The 34 ON DUTY AND OFF room has frescoed walls of the Queen of Hearts and the Tarts and the Knave, in soft, fady colors, life- size, all round, done by an English art student who could n't pay her bills in the ordinary way. Want to know what I had? I tell you food gets to be an event these days! Omelet, peas, — both piping hot, — to- mato salad, wild strawberries with a little brown jug of that marvellous thick, slightly sour cream, and sugar. Does n't that sound good? (I forgot this was a diary, and one does n't ask questions in a diary, does one?) Back to Cynthia's room — still out. I left my dress-suit case there the first time, of course. Went a hundred miles over to Notre Dame and stayed for an hour's worth of service there — perfectly inexplica- ble, but lovely, music: choir-boys, led by a master with a long stick from the middle of the chancel, and two organs, one at the front and the other at the back. I sat where I could see the beautiful dark-blue and green rose window in the transept, and enjoyed my- self. Went back to Cynthia's — she had not come in. Went up to her room and lay down for an hour, had a cup of tea and some bread and butter, and went over to the Gare de I'Est, getting there and dressed at quarter of six. Went to my appointed table, turned round, and came face to face with Cynthia, who had been there since one o'clock. Very busy evening, all the tables full all the time. The floor is so slippery from spilled soup and beer that it is something of a problem not to fall — especially when you are carry- ing a waiter of ordinary good size on which are piled twelve large plates of meat and vegetables with lots FRENCH WOUNDED 35 of gravy on them. I guess Sunday is a hard day, or people stay longer, or something, for their tempers are certainly not as good as they are on Tuesdays. I had two Canadian boys among other poilus, and if I had given them half a chance they would have in- vited me to the theatre; but I did n't feel sure of the etiquette of going out in the evening with two per- fectly uneducated boys who called me "Sister." How- ever, I understand that men en permission should have anything they want, so perhaps I will go if they ask me again Tuesday — though I doubt it ; I don't think I am made that way, and it is no use my pre- tending I am. A Belgian, who tried to talk English to me, but did n't know it apart from German, told me that I was very pretty — so you see I have come to the one appreciative spot in the world. Got home about nine and had supper. Monday y July 2 Got rather late to breakfast, owing to a peculiarity of my watch. Reached Ambulance at half-past nine and read my letters from home. Did about half an hour's work on the histories and spent the rest of the time till twelve in talking with the men, looking through the library for more picture puzzles without too many pieces missing. Lunch. Gave English lesson in 68 and then went in to see a man in 69 who had been in his weekly tub when I was there before. He is the farmer from the borders of Spain and France, of whom I have told you before ; and he really is a per- fect duck, and courageous to the last degree, and full 36 ON DUTY AND OFF of humor. It was for him that I first started them on picture puzzles, and he has done them all the time since. In the next bed to his is a very slight, small lad, who looks white and thoroughly unhappy and discon- tented all the time. He complains incessantly of his arm, which is in such contrast to the other men that the nurses have got to feel that he is a perfect cry- baby and that the only thing to do is to leave him alone. I tried to make him do puzzles, but he said he had n't the patience; so he just lies there concentrat- ing on his arm, and groaning from time to time. Well, to-day I decided to tackle him — and tackle him till I got him. So I asked him if there was nothing he liked to do — whether he liked to read ; no ; whether he would like me to read to him ; no ; and then one of the other men said he would like to learn English, and he said, yes, that was so, he would. So I started him off — though he is very slow to catch on — and another man joined him, which ought to make it more entertaining for him, and I think that for a minute or two at a time he forgot his arm ; but certainly not for long. I have left him quite a list of words to learn for to-morrow and he promised he would. Then I went at him as if he were a Radcliffe girl and asked him what his trade had been before the war; coiffeur, so that did n't help much. What did he do in his off time? He walked — so helpful. Was he musical? No? Then I would not sing to him — roars of laughter from every one else. I really begin to fancy myself as a wft, these men laugh so easily. Was he artistic? Certainly not! Was there anything in the world he enjoyed doing? FRENCH WOUNDED 37 Yes, there was — he loved to play cards. In three minutes he had a pack of cards, and settled down for his first afternoon of real comfort. And, of course, he might have had them days ago if I had had the sense to find it out or he had had the sense to ask. Well, we may get him on to picture puzzles yet; by hook or by crook I am determined to wear the frown off his childish face. He is twenty- two, but looks seventeen. Left the hospital at three-fifteen, after having done a bit more work on the histories; got the doctor to sign up one man's papers, so he can be evacuated, give me notes on two operations and two diagnoses; came home and dressed for a trip to Pantruche. Got a nice loaf of cake for Bronson, who has sent me a check to send him cake with once a week; got a price on a stop-watch for one of his ofificers; bought a pack of cards so that Frowner can have one always at hand, two picture puzzles, a card table so that they can keep the big picture puzzles going more than one day, a sheet of Bristol board to experiment with making cardboard picture puzzles — they are so awfully ex- pensive in wood, and the head nurse does n't want them to make wooden ones at the Ambulance because the wards are supposed to look just like a New York hospital for really sick people — and paste for the same. What the Ambulance really needs is a big play room, where the men could have a piano and work- benches, etc., and spend the rainy days, and a good- sized sitting-room for the officers. A ward is an aw- fully poor place for a man who feels perfectly well and is up and dressed — for the whole day and for 38 ON DUTY AND OFF days and days in succession. Of course, they can go out, but there's nothing to do in the yard. I wonder why we should n't have ring-toss, or something Hke that, outdoors? Tuesday I am not making much headway with Le Petit — who frowns. I gave him his cards and he seemed pleased for the moment, but in spite of his great de- sire to learn English he finds it impossible to learn three words. I really think I spent half an hour trying to make him remember three, and he could n't. It turns out that he can't read much — at least he says he can't. I guess English will have to be given up. Found one of the nurses wanted to get tickets for some of the men to go to the ceremony at Lafayette's Tomb, the Fourth. Went in for her to Brentano's, but found all the tickets had been given out. Thence to the American Chamber of Commerce, and from there was referred to their honorary secretary. He was out. Tried to buy a coat d'infirmiere. Back to Ambulance, and home to dress for Gare de I'Est. Into Paris again ; found the honorable secretary this time, and he said he would probably pass me and a few bless6s in for the ceremony, as he was to be at the gate all the time. Gare de I'Est from half-past five to quarter of eight — a back-breaking process when you serve three tables, not at all when you serve two. What the people do who are there all afternoon and evening and serve endless tables, I can't imagine: I should think they would die. The French have such FRENCH WOUNDED 39 odd ideas of suitable chaussure! There was a strap- ping girl there who had her blue infirmiere's costume on, white apron, dark-brown stockings, and cloth- of-silver dancing-slippers with the highest possible heels. Came out to Neuilly and took a fifteen-min- ute walk in search of blue-and- white ribbon, which I found. Home, and supper at quarter past nine. Spent till quarter of twelve cutting and arranging little rib- bon things, with stars and stripes, for my Fourth of July bouquets — you may have heard me mention them before ! Fourth of July {to-day) No more time and this must be posted to-night. Will simply say that I rose at quarter past four, made my own breakfast and took the first Metro into Paris to buy my flowers at the big market. Am now (quar- ter of six in the afternoon) about to dress and go in town to dine with George, and very likely Bobby. ... As I said, got up very early and set my water a-boiling in M. J.'s little affair, while I dressed, and then had delicious breakfast of Washington coffee (which is so superior to anything I have had here that I wish it were not impolite to use it always) and bread and honey. Breakfast finished, I left the house only two minutes after schedule time, and reached the Metro in plenty of time for the first car — with all the other marketers. The market was simply de- lightful and I am going again on a sunny day with my kodak. There were no buyers there any earlier than I, and not many, anyway — just the venders 40 ON DUTY AND OFF with their baskets and carts piled high with vege- tables. One man had a hay-cart full of carrots and peered out from among them — great masses of that gorgeous orange color encircled in brilliant, feathery green on all sides of him. Radishes made another wonderful mass of color — and beans, and tomatoes; everything in great quantities looking so luxuriant. I walked through the whole market before coming to the flowers, and then came on them suddenly — a whole passage lined on both sides with them, sheets of solid color — bachelor's buttons, daisies, roses (thousands), golden- rod, dark-purple pansies, white chrysanthemums, little garden pinks, larkspur, lilies, marigolds. Really a most wonderful sight ; I don't see why people don't paint it all the time, but I did n't see any artists there. The sun was n't out, so the col- ors looked brighter than ever. I chose five fat bunches of bachelor's buttons, six bunches of the little pinks, so as to be able to take only the red ones, and two huge bunches of white button chrysanthemums — they made a dress-suit case full ; then I could n't re- sist getting a great bunch of golden-rod and ferns, for the American nurses on my corridor, and some pan- sies for the head nurse of the corridor. So I came home laden, and started in at once to make up my bouquets — one red carnation in front, then a little row of whites and a row of blues, tied with red, white, and blue ribbon. I started that at quarter of seven and worked just as fast as I possibly could till half- past eight, having every one else in the household working, too, the last fifteen minutes, and rushed FRENCH WOUNDED 41 over to the Ambulance. The Frenchies were highly delighted with their bouquets. There were some left over which the cleaning- women begged. Then I col- lected my six blesses, with great difficulty and wait- ing round, as some of them had been up and ready since crack of dawn and others were n't dressed, — and dressing is such a long process if you have only one hand, — and we thought we were off, rather late but probably in time. Not at all ; when we got to the front door we found the permissions were n't ready, though every one knew the night before that the men were all given leave. Finally we were off — but, my goodness, they did walk slowly! It is only fair to say that Grandpere (who is thirty-three), the chief re- tarder, had n't been out before and was feeling a bit wobbly; but still, I could have walked down and back before they got there. And then, for the first time since I have got here, there was a block of fifteen minutes in the Metro. However, we finally got there, I murmured the name of the honorary secretary ("there" being Lafayette's tomb — or rather the con- vent yard which contained the cemetery which con- tained the tomb), each man handed out one of my visiting cards as a ticket — my own idea and it worked — and after half an hour's more wait we got in and got places on various neighboring tombs. But alas, the soldiers that we wanted so much to see did n't come inside, and all there was was speeches made in English by men whom we could n't see or hear. So after a while we went out and found the American soldiers (only one battalion of them in- 42 ON DUTY AND OFF stead of the whole contingent) lined up on both sides of a long, grassy, leafy lane, and had some talk with them as to the French vs. American guns, rifles, car- tridge belts, packs, etc. They looked most picturesque and I thought quite imposing — certainly big and strong — so much bigger than Frenchmen. Then they marched away, but irregularly and without a band, and our grand spectacle for which we had made such an effort was over; it really was rather disap- pointing. Then we went to one of those little corner caf6s and had lunch — not a very good lunch — which I paid for and which seemed to make up to the boys for the morning's flatness; at least, reliable wit- nesses told me that the men had thoroughly enjoyed the party, and I like to believe them. After lunch we did something which quite made up for the rest to me ' — we went and had our pictures taken on a post- card ; I do hope they will be good. When I got back to the Ambulance I found a note from George asking me to dine with him, and I natu- rally accepted the invitation. We went to the Cuckoo on Montmartre. There is the most lovely view from Montmartre : the whole of Paris is at your feet, soft and lovely. Delicious dinner, and we walked part way home — and saw an eclipse of the moon which neither of us could explain. End of the Fourth. July 5 Rien k signaler. FRENCH WOUNDED 43 July 6 Mail-day and the mail late. Worked quite hard, for there were about five evacuations and I had the little cards which are sent out to the families each week, via the Ministere de la Guerre, to write for about thirty men, and that takes quite a while — name, rank, and diagnosis of each; address of mem- ber of the family, and some kind of message. One man I found could n't even write his own name; and then, of course, a good many of them had bad arms and could n't write. I started, in English, with a com- mandant, who will be good fun to teach, for, of course, he is a man of considerable intellect and train- ing — you have to be, to pass the French officers' exams. I started reading "My Friend Prospero" to him — translating it into French, with his help. I cannot make him read "The bird has a nest and I have a home," as I do the poor poilu, who, by the way, is really working very hard over his English and demanded a notebook, in which he writes out the ex- ercises. To the poilu, also, I read and translate — usu- ally something out of the newspaper. Mother is right — or rather I agree with her that it would be nice to have some rigor in the job, but tant pis, there is none. Neither is there any chance to ad- minister any affairs ; the m6decin chef, whom I never see, says how he wants the thing done, and that is the end of it. The corridor is so separate from the rest of the Ambulance that the organization as a whole I know nothing of. However, you never can tell what will happen when we are militarized, though I be- 44 ON DUTY AND OFF lieve everything is to go on as before. This is sup- posed to happen at once, but has been supposed to for some days and has n't yet. Saturday J July 7 Went in town the first thing and got various needed things, including an Enghsh grammar for the commandant and a picture book for making card- board picture puzzles. Came out and evacuated one man before lunch. I have about resigned myself to being a little Sunshine, for it seems as if I 'd got to do that or go in for nursing pure and simple, which ap- peals to me less all the time. Of course, if they ask me to do that I will, but I don't think they will. I love doing the other, as far as that goes — the weeks slip by like nothing at all — except when I look back and then I can't believe there can be so much of any- thing. Tuesday J July 10 Hospital from nine to four. Followed the dressing- cart the first hour or so, did some work (some of it quite hard), gave my two English lessons, made folded paper things, etc. I am quite pleased with Le Petit (who frowned). It has^n't had much to do with me — is chiefly due to the fact that his arm is out of the extension, which pulled it all the time — but he is really cheering up. He has smiled quite often, and I have n't happened to hear him complain at all. This afternoon when I went in he was playing cards (for money), with the cards I gave him, with three com- FRENCH WOUNDED 45 panions sitting on his bed, and smoking — really having quite a time. He won, and made a grand total of two sous, for which he says he can get four ciga- rettes — they must be corkers. It was good to see him care about anything. And yesterday he was throwing water at a friend ; I wanted to make them little Japa- nese fly boxes to throw the water in, so as to have it really done well, but the nurse did n*t take to the idea. Went in to the Gare de I'Est and served dinner to forty-six gentlemen, if I am not mistaken — my rec- ord. Acquired another fiUeul, who somehow does n't attract me entirely — he was too polite and had a queer smile, which may have been due to his having but one eye and no artificial one in the other's place. Anyhow, he is from Lyons, and was married, I don't know how long since, and when he went home en per- mission three months ago he found that his wife had sold his place and his business and gone off, with the money, with an American. He begged me to be his marraine and I could n't very well tell him I did n't think I would because I did n't like his looks — so I am; I dare say he's all right, for a French girl who talked with him seemed to think he was. July 16 I take a few minutes while I am waiting to report to Mrs. Munroe's secretary to tell you I am still alive and well. I go to the Henris' to-day and want to go home at once and pack — so, of course, this is the one morning of her life when the secretary is late. I was up in Mrs. Munroe's office Saturday afternoon and 46 ON DUTY AND OFF all day Sunday, while she and her secretary were off. I had to see all the auxiliaries and find out if they were going to stay to lunch and then I did some filing and typing, found two girls to pour tea, etc., and evacuated a couple of my own men. Then at five I left and went to the Gare de I'Est, where the place was crowded full and you had to wait hours in line for everything. Every one was cross, including the men, who did n't like having to wait for their food. Mon- day, had to go to the Ambulance at eight and wait to deliver a message. Home and packed (I have enough things to set up housekeeping with) , got my things over to Madame Henri's, tore over to the Am- bulance and worked till half-past five; over to the American Hospital where Penelope is sick with quinsy throat (the worst of it being now over) and back to the Henris' just in time for a half -past seven dinner. Tuesday left the house early and got back at quarter of nine, having really worked all the time ex- cept about half an hour for lunch and the time spent in getting in to the Gare de I'Est. Good evening there, however, very satisfactory. To-day — Wednesday — left again early and am just back. Am flying to the Lauths' for a farewell dinner. CHAPTER II AN AMERICAN HOSPITAL FOR FRENCH SOLDIERS {continued) July 1 8 I HOPE the last letter you got was a good long one, for this is hardly a letter at all. I have been very busy, in- deed, and perfectly unexpectedly so, so that I did n't start to write this letter earlier in the week. It is be- cause of the transfer of the Ambulance to the Ameri- can Red Cross ; there are lists to be made out of every kind of thing and it all takes time. I have just been checking up, running errands, making the rounds to find out which of the fifty or more auxiliaires are lunching at the Ambulance, and such-like things. It is not especially exciting in one way, but is very neces- sary and I do love to be really very busy. There is a possible plan in mind which will give me different work if it goes through, and then I have no doubt I shall be perverse enough to regret my leisurely days of playing with the lads and talking a blue streak all day and going off whenever I liked. Really, though, I shall like it much better, for it will mean that I can work up a good job and one where I could not be re- placed at a moment's notice as I certainly could in the history work. It will mean the regular auxiliaire hours of eight to six, and, of course, I shall have to give up the Gare de I'Est. On Sunday next we are to have a grand ceremony of transfer. The whole place 48 ON DUTY AND OFF has been In a perfect ferment of guessing what is to happen next and commenting on what has already happened. It is now quarter of eleven and I suppose I am keeping every one awake by my machine a 6crire, so I will stop. I have been taking a farewell supper with the Lauths. I don't suppose I could possibly have found a more thoroughly congenial and homelike family; I really feel absolutely at home there and am as fond as possible of them all. They and Helena F. (who goes home, alas, in two weeks) have made all the difference in these first few weeks. The Henris are very nice, indeed ; I have hardly had time yet to get acquainted. The two children will be a great pleasure. They are all as friendly as possible. No tub; I shall have to buy one. July 21 It is the most beautiful evening imaginable. I am sitting at my table, which is bang up against the French window, and I look out over a very pleasant collection of back yards — the walls heavily hung with English ivy and Virginia creeper — with flower- ing bushes and horse-chestnut trees, and the backs of houses quite a distance off. There are no back alleys and no clothes drying ever — how the thing is worked I don't know. The sky is hazy blue — horizon blue in fact — and there are wonderful piles of clouds, al- most as blue as the sky at the base and in the folds, and creamy white where the sun strikes them. Every fifteen minutes the chimes ring, and the only other FRENCH WOUNDED 49 sound is the indescribable and penetrating whirr- burr-hum of an aeroplane. I don't think I ever hap- pened to mention, did I, that they fly overhead constantly — every twenty minutes or so, I should almost say, the beautiful things. (There's the church chiming, now.) Each cream-colored cloud is outlined in blue. It really is heavenly and we shall probably have a beautiful sunset. There was a marvellous one the other evening which I watched with Louisa H. from her window — little pink clouds everywhere and one great, dark, chocolate-colored one flecked with bright gold. The aeroplanes sound more than any- thing else like Father's centrifugal blood thing — only fluctuating, and with a harder, more metallic sound when the sound strikes a cloud. The third since I started to write is going over, but that's rather a big allowance; they are probably going home to sup- per. The other day during the 14 juillet procession I counted fifteen in sight at once. I did n't get through work till late to-day, having started early and taken only about half an hour for lunch. All this extra stuff is over to-day, however, and no one knows what will happen after the transfer to-morrow. This afternoon the personnel of the Am- bulance presented the chief surgeon, who is leaving, with a huge loving-cup — a quaint present, but given with most intense feeling and received in the same way. Almost every one cried. The nurses feel as if they were losing their best friend, and the patients do, too, I think — ought to, anyway, for he is per- fectly angelic to them and is always sending for the 50 ON DUTY AND OFF wives of the very sick ones out of his own pocket- book and doing all kinds of nice things. (Fourth aero- plane.) I send you a kodak of him and Dr. Gano, which you will please guard soigneusement. I send you also the picture postal of me and my six blesses which we had taken on the Fourth. Every one of these men is a perfect peach and as sweet as the lilacs in June. If I were choosing the best, I think I 'd say the two Zou-Zous : they are angels, both of them. Faucheron, on my other side, really has many scars round the jaw, and wears an appareil to hold the jaw in place. He works round the wards almost as hard as an orderly — self-appointed errand boy for the head nurse. Mandin, left front, is just as nice as can be, •though he has n't quite the heavenly character of the Zou-Zous. In the middle is Grandpere, who is thirty- three and seems like a worn-out old man compared to the rest of the babes. He is rather pathetic, for he has n't the youth and gay spirits of most of them. How- ever, he has his own joys — including a very affec- tionate and attractive young wife, with red cheeks and shining brown eyes, and two children who he says are very intelligent and whose pictures are very at- tractive. Boucher, the last, is like a big Newfound- land dog — slow and not strikingly intellectual (can't write his own name), but absolutely devoted to the helpless men in his ward, carrying them round, doing their errands, dressing them, etc. He is not specially attractive, for he looks so heavy, but one gets very fond of him. If Michel (the farmer lad) and Le Petit Moineau (who no longer frowns, but is the FRENCH WOUNDED 51 life of the ward) were in the picture, it would contain all my specialties. When Le Petit and Michel are evacuated I shall weep buckets. A.R.C. Military Hospital i Neuilly-sur-Seine July 24 Sunday last was a magnificent day. I breakfasted de luxe, making my own coffee and spreading my bread with jam I was reckless enough to buy, went to the hospital, and found six letters from the U.S. Figurez-vous quel jour! We had an inspection visit from our military head yesterday. He looked us over and asked questions about us in our presence just as if we were so many horses, and it was screamingly funny. However, this morning I was introduced again in Mrs. Munroe's office and he smiled broadly and shook hands and said, oh, he'd met Miss Putnam. Yesterday you would n't have thought he could possibly smile, let alone notice the physiognomy of an auxiliaire. I am rather out of conceit with many of those about me at present, for almost every one regrets that we are no longer the American Ambulance, and I feel borne on the wings of the wind — or something equally up- lifting and invigorating — at the thought that we are under the American Government and part of the whole machine. I love it: I was ready to work hard before, but now I feel ready to work my head off. (Another plane overhead.) 52 ON DUTY AND OFF July 25 To-day has been a long one and I want to get to bed, so I will hastily close you up and write a line to Father, perhaps. The change in head doctor has brought a change in the method of keeping histories which is rather ennuyant. I now don't have to put them into French at all, which was rather fun, and I do have to put down a lot of other details which are n*t so amusing — such as when the man had his last bath and last put on clean clothes, and what was the state of the ground on which he fell. A whole lot of histories were brought back to me for correction, as I had n't put anything after "physical examina- tion" — we never have — and that was laborious and rather boring too. I gave two English lessons, and that with the histories took the whole day. There were fifty- three admissions last night — not for my corridor, but in the whole hospital. I did one thing which came out rather well: I wrote out from my own observations the statement of an operation yes- terday and the doctor said it was all right and left it as it was. Of course, it was the simplest thing, but I shall try it again the next time I can get to an opera- tion. This one was: "Followed sinus from wound on anterior face of right thigh downward for about three inches, making small incision at lower end. Removed pieces of decaying bone. Followed sinus from upper wound, interior face, to lower, removing pieces of bone from lower extremity of upper fragment of fe- mur. Drains Carrel-Dakin." The Muse doesn't seem to be with me to-night; FRENCH WOUNDED 53 is n't that a shame when the letters have to go to- morrow morning! You know I can send my letters without a stamp; is n't that swagger? Only I believe they have to go by England and that retards them more or less, so I don't do it. The Henris' is an excellent place to live. I have breakfast at my open window in my room every day, which I love. Every member of the family breakfasts at a different hour, beginning with Madame Henri at six and continuing through the grandchildren at eight. I read while I eat and then walk over to the hospital through very pleasant streets with great trees and gardens (walled) on both sides, and am thoroughly leisurely. I am obliged to confess that I like having breakfast alone. The food is very good; vegetables deliciously cooked and always fruit for dessert. Then I drink pinard, which I also must say I like ; I am afraid I was born to be a taster. ' July 26 This afternoon there was a decoration — or rather three — in one of the wards. This was the first deco- ration I had seen and it was certainly very stirring. Two Zouaves got the Legion of Honor, and a third man got the Croix de Guerre with palms. The man who gave the medals was himself a Zouave, in the same regiment with one if not both the others. The first medal was for one Captain Frot, who got him- self out of his chair with great difficulty and stood on two crutches while the man read out in a loud tone (there were only a dozen or so officers in the room, 54 ON DUTY AND OFF with half a dozen friends and a dozen nurses, etc.) the name and regiment of the captain, the fact that he was now to receive the Legion of Honor after five previous citations, and the present citation; then he struck him on each shoulder with his sword, pinned the medal on, and kissed him on either cheek. The other Legion of Honor man was in bed, but in his regimentals and red Zouave cap all the same ; he had received three previous citations. The third man was considerably older, also a captain, and this was his first citation. The formal part being over, the man threw all caution to the winds and launched forth into the most delightful account of Captain Frot, who had entered his regiment in the very beginning, when he was too young to have a mustache, and who was like a son to him, — with a little bow and asking permission to speak so from his real father who was present, — and said how he had watched his progress and how there never was any one like him for courage and self-forgetfulness and power over the men of his company; said that he really had created the com- pany and was the heart and soul of it ; that men who came back after being wounded always wanted to get back into his company; and so on at considerable length. It was quite outside the ordinary proceed- ings, I think, and was thrilling — the man spoke with so much feeling. It was very interesting, too, to have him speak of his authority over his men, for he is so gentle and has such a sweet face that you would not have picked out authority as being a characteristic. Then the nJan spoke of each of the others, saying FRENCH WOUNDED 55 that the captain who got his Croix de Guerre had gotten it for seeking out opportunities for intelligent self-sacrifice, and that it meant as much for a man of his age to get his first medal as for the younger ones to get their higher ones — or something like that. The whole thing was so very genuine, and not a bit purely formal and conventional. Then, of course, we had something light-colored and fizzy out of a bottle — or rather many bottles — and every one touched glasses and drank to bonne sant6. The conferring of the medals was not unlike the conferring of Ph.D.'s, but that made it all the more affecting — to think at what kind of university they had won their honors. July 27 Worked, the earlier part of the morning, in Mrs. Munroe's office and was awarded the next day as a holiday. Found I was n't needed in the afternoon, and after consulting various nurses who had been there decided to go to Fontainebleau for Friday night and all day Saturday — was n't that extraor- dinarily reckless? Oh, I had such a good time! I wired to Bob to dine with me on my arrival, but of course he did n't get the message till the next morning, though I sent it by twelve noon ; so I dined alone, and then strolled down some darling little lanes, peering shamelessly through the little gates into people's gardens — such fascinating gardens and little cot- tages with moss-grown stone roofs. Lovely, clear evening, with the moon in the first quarter. Went to bed early. Breakfasted next morning in a little court- 56 ON DUTY AND OFF yard, and arranged to have a carriage to faire a promenade in the For^t — very de luxe, I know, but it proved well worth it, and I never could have found any of the loveliest places if I had gone unguided on foot. I packed up my picnic things (in the invaluable gold bag, which brought down all my picnic things as well as night things) and ** Shirley," and set forth in my victoria at nine-fifteen, driven by a slightly garrulous but very nice reform^ — and there's a word I don't believe even my learned father knows: it means a soldier who has been so badly wounded that after he is well he can't go back into the army; this particular reform^ had a resected knee, and in consequence a jambe rigide. It was a day that be- came very hot, indeed, but in the Forest it was abso- lutely perfect. The Forest extends for miles and miles and is the most beautiful woods I have almost ever seen — slightly cleaned up as to underbrush, per- haps, but so well done that it seems perfectly wild and natural; great huge beeches, some birch, holly, and other green-leaf things. It is very much like the Canaumet woods on a giant scale. We drove to vari- ous lookouts, where you saw a great valley, like a canon, below, and beyond and on all sides nothing but forest, forest, forest. I did n't suppose there was so much wild territory in all France — it was almost like being on Haystack and looking off. The great rocky ledges were worn smooth, with smooth hollows and basins in them, and the valley looked just as if it had been a river-bed once; but my reform6 assured me it never had been. The light was marvellous — FRENCH WOUNDED 57 that extraordinary golden green — and the place smelled so sweet! Heather just coming out, round the ledges, and clumps of harebell in the crevices. And si- lence. In an hour and three quarters we only met one other person. I arranged to be left about a half- hour's walk into the woods, and I walked some dis- tance off the path and chose the trunk of a huge hemlock, or something of that ilk, to lean against. The ground smelled hot and delicious, and there were real stumps with real toadstools growing on them. I don't know when I have enjoyed anything more. I had my little solid alcohol saucepan, and made my usual delicious coffee with plenty of con- densed milk, which is much better than the milk you get regularly here, and had bread with cherry jam. I lay on my back and basked, and I read "Shirley,'* and spent a thoroughly satisfactory two hours. The forest is so endless that one could easily get lost there if one was the right person — and last night would have been a perfect one to spend outdoors — but alas, alas, I am far too prudent to get lost. Well, so then I walked back into the town and after more or less endless, and scorching hot, alleys and yards, I found Bobby at the Ecole d'Artillerie. We strolled down to where you could get a lovely view of the Chateau, across two formal lakes and a moat, flanked on each side by marvellous great spruces, and had a little converse. Then visited the Chateau, which was just like every other chateau except that it had a large library of beautifully bound old volumes which, up to the time of the war, was open to any one of 58 ON DUTY AND OFF good repute in Fontainebleau — open once a month, when you could take out four or five volumes and re- turn them the following month. That seemed so ex- traordinarily intelligent, Christian, and up-to-date, that it marks out the Chateau from others. I don't think I shall go through any more of them. Went back to my hotel and got packed, and came back to the town for dinner with Bobby and he brought me back to Neuilly, reaching there about half -past eleven. People are so funny; I asked Madame to-day whether that would not have been rather late to come home alone — there is a twenty minutes' walk down quite empty and rather dark streets — and she said, oh, no, there was nothing to fear; and yet she thinks it entirely improper to go round the corner in the eve- ning without a hat. Worked during the morning and talked with the lads till lunch; then came here, and it is now four, and if I am to get to see the Janets I must go at once. I forgot to mention that they were part of my origi- nal plan at Fontainebleau, but I could n't find a trace of them there. I did find there, however, their Paris address, with no mention of their living at Fontaine- bleau, so I guess they've moved. It is hot to-day, and I am very sleepy. I went to see them in spite of almost deciding to go to sleep instead, and it's just as well I did, because they are going to Chamonix Saturday. Madame Janet was awfully nice; I hardly saw himself at all, for he silently disappeared shortly after he came in to say "How do you do." You should hear me convers- FRENCH WOUNDED 59 ing in French — I really am better than I once was, but still very halting. But it's fun. They have not lived in Fontainebleau since the war. August 8 My daily routine has changed more or less. I now go to Mrs. Munroe's office at half-past eight and stay till about half- past eleven ; then go down and do my history work ; lunch at twelve and play round till two ; go again to Mrs. Munroe's office and stay there till six if she wants me, as she has all this past week ; then go down to the wards again and give two English lessons, not going home till half -past seven. Of course that sounds much harder work than it is, for it is not at all concentrated — and can't be. Then sometimes in the evening I go to bed and sometimes give an English lesson or take a French one. One afternoon I attended an operation on one of my men. Yesterday after- noon there was a party for the head corridor nurse, who is leaving. We, nurses, auxiliaries, and doctor, gave her a very pretty little travelling-clock, folding flat like a picture frame, with aluminum — no, lumi- nous — figures and hands. The officers gave her a beautiful portfolio with quantities of pockets and a little nickel ink-box. It was a complete surprise to her and a great success; champagne, of course, and most delicious p^te de foie gras and salad sand- wiches — and the graphophone going all the time. These little ward parties are certainly genial affairs. To-day, after ten days or more of continuous rain, it has cleared off into the most gorgeous September 6o ON DUTY AND OFF weather: clear and cold, with masses of dazzling white clouds — clear, that is, barring an hour's hard rain in the middle of the day. To-morrow is Friday and I shall work hard all day, as Mrs. Munroe is away, and then Saturday I am going to Chartres with Helena F. by way of a farewell party before she goes. We are going to spend the night and the whole of the next day there. M. Henri owns, I should say, all the piano music that has ever been written — and plays it all. He has a large cupboard, like a big wardrobe, entirely full of neat black folders with labels on the back, and an in- dex book. There are several folders, for instance, of nothing but Beethoven — and each folder is about an inch or more thick. August 9 What should you say to my staying over beyond my six months? Of late, as you know, I have been helping Mrs. Munroe in all kinds of odd jobs and she wants me to stay. She is now head of auxiliaries in France, a Red Cross position which may or may not develop considerably according to the length of the war, etc. The plan is to have the auxiliaries train at our hospital for a few months and then be placed in the various Red Cross or French hospitals. Mrs. Munroe will have to visit the other hospitals to find out the conditions. She has had one month's vacation since the beginning of the war and her secretary has had in all two weeks, at different times. She says they may either of them give out and have to have vaca- FRENCH WOUNDED 61 tions, any moment, and she must have some one who knows the routine of the office to take hold with the remaining one. The work I am doing for her is not in itself especially exciting, but it is something that you have to work into and I am a good way in, and it is absolutely necessary. I would keep on with the his- tory-taking, so as to stay in touch with the patients. That is the case; now what do you say? If it were left to me I should stay, for it seems to me I could be useful. As for inclination — it is always one*s inclina- tion to be useful ; and apart from that my inclination is so strong both ways that I hate to think of not do- ing either. At present it seems to me as if I had been here about two weeks, but probably I shall feel differ- ently by the winter. If you feel that you can't bear to have me gone more than the allotted term, all you have to do is to cable "No." I will wait three weeks for you to do that, before signing on with the Red Cross. Paul W. turned up in the front office to-day, look- ing very tall and thin in his uniform and feeling rather morose because he had come in the night train from Boulogne sitting up in a compartment with seven Frenchmen who would n't let the window be opened. He and twenty-seven other docs came over as part of the American Army, were transferred to the British in London, to the French in Boulogne, and are still a bone of contention. He does n't know what will happen to them, but expects to be sent on somewhere to-morrow. 62 ON DUTY AND OFF August 15 We had the most perfect trip to Chartres, barring the fact that we missed the first two trains we tried for : the first one I looked up wrong ; and for the sec- ond we arrived fully two minutes ahead of time and found every carriage full and the guards simply would n't let us get on; we just had to stand there with our mouths open and watch the train pull out. We couldn't believe it had happened; we had ar- ranged the whole afternoon (a pleasant one, never- theless) with the one idea of getting that train. But eventually we arrived, after passing through the most adorable little collections of picture-book cottages you ever dreamed of, and spent the night in a very spick and span hotel, where the next morning I had my third bath since reaching France. We reached the cathedral at eleven minus the quarter, assisted at mass for about an hour, went out for lunch, took a walk, returned and had another hour's service, went out for tea, and came back for half an hour more, this time in complete solitude. I don't feel as if I ever again should see anything as beautiful. It was an overcast day, and when we first went in we could see no details — just darkness, enclosed somehow, loom- ing up all around us. Then gradually the windows began to glow and finally all the pillars and arches were lighted up by the wonderful deep light coming down from all the ages through thousands of jewels. I can't describe the richness and fact-in-itselfness of the light — you felt swallowed up in beauty. The glass must be the best in any cathedral, I should FRENCH WOUNDED 63 think; I could stay there gazing at it forever. Then the music was beautiful at both services, especially in the afternoon when there was a full choir as well as the organ. Oh, it was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, and never to be forgotten. Helena and I have made a rendezvous there for Easter; but I don't promise not to go down there again in the interval ; it strikes me as being singularly worth while. This afternoon I am going in to St. Sulpice, where they are said to have very fine music, for it is a great church festival — the Assumption. To-morrow, if still alive, I am going to Evreux to spend the day with Louisa and Penelope. August 21 Last Thursday I went to Evreux as scheduled. It is a most beautiful trip, and the day was perfect. The train runs along the side of a great hill much of the way and partly along a little ridge between two val- leys. You have long views down winding valleys with a river or two at the bottom, and the slopes all cultivated in narrow strips of different shades of green and brown. Up on the high ground, right by the railroad or across the valley, are the darling little vil- lages, almost all roofs — delightful red-brown moss- grown roofs — and garden walls covered with grape- vines; and each village with its miniature cathedral. The sky was very blue with masses of very white clouds — just the day for a high hill and deep valley landscape. Evreux itself is a pleasant town with a very steep grassy hill right behind, and good though 64 ON DUTY AND OFF not wonderful cathedral, and a gem of an old church. The hospital is still full of Boche prisoners, and the girls live in an old chateau — very empty, and light and airy — down the street a way. We went out to a hotel for lunch, and after lunch climbed the hill and lay on our backs in the sun, looking across the town to other hills, and hearing the incessant soft boom of the cannon. It is not any nearer the front than Paris, but being high up, and away from the city noise, you always hear it there. The other night they heard an attack begin, perfectly distinctly. The war news is so fine to-day ! — the French attack at Verdun, and the great number of prisoners taken by them and by the Italians. We are wondering whether the Americans are not at Verdun. . . . Friday night Lucy Fletcher and I dined up on Montmartre, and afterward went over to take a look at Notre Dame. It is the first time I have been in Paris in the evening when I was responsible for find- ing the way, and it gave you the queerest feeling to get lost (as far as not being able to find what you wanted goes). It was absolutely pitchy dark. We got out of the Metro on the Cit6 and literally felt our way down two streets, and then there was the river most unexpectedly and I was so turned round I had absolutely no idea which way to go and we had to en- quire, twice, in fact. Then coming back we tried to find the same Metro (which I have taken half a dozen times before) and entirely failed, and had to cross the river and look for the next station. Lucy is a rock of calmness, but I confess that I felt just as if I were FRENCH WOUNDED 65 In a nightmare and should have to spend the night wandering round the pot-blackl and endless streets. Neuilly is relatively well lighted and there are no streets to get lost in. I am glad, however, to have realized how dark Paris is. I don't think I have told you anything about my pupil Teilhard, who is really quite a charmer. He also is a farmer, but not the hand-to-soil farmer that Michel is. I gather that he is very well off, and he has extensive vegetable gardens — growing much the same vegetables we do. He has a very smart-looking sister. He is an officer, of course. I was so surprised the other day when I first saw him out of bed, for he is miles tall, and most of them are small. His charm lies in the fact that he almost always says the unex- pected thing (rather a pose, I think, but it gets you all the same) and that he blushes every time he laughs. For the rest, he looks quite sick with great big eyes in the thinnest possible face. But when he is talking to you it is just to you and that is very en- dearing. He is an extraordinarily devout Catholic, having little private masses every other morning early; but he has a great sense of humor. I have just left him Alan Seeger's poems, to prepare one for to- morrow. More than time for bed, so good-night. "Bien le bonjour a tous les camarades," as the boys say. September 4, 1917 You will be thunderstruck to receive this letter in an ordinary plain envelope, instead of the gay, little, 66 ON DUTY AND OFF daintily scented affairs, in which I flatter myself my epistles have heretofore arrived. But that is not the worst: henceforth, no stirring accounts of aeroplan- ists falling in rapid multitudes through the sky, vic- tims of air battles ; no more pen-pictures of our Ameri- can laddies in camp, no more harassing tales of trench warfare, or still more harrowing sketches of the treatment we ourselves are undergoing — all color, all life, all emotion is torn from my poor letters by the following: Letters written by the personnel of this Unit must com- ply with the following regulations : 1. Envelopes must be plain, and bear no return ad- dress whatsoever. 2. No mention must be made of any city or town in France which would give a clue as to where the writer is or has been stationed or where any other Unit or body of troops is or has been stationed. 3. No mention must be made of any military opera- tions or of the movement of troops or of aeroplane activities, nor any statement concerning the physical condition or morale of the armies. 4. No critical statements of any kind are to be made concerning any thing or person connected with the military establishment of the United States or of any of the Allies. 5. No maps, pictures, photographs, or negatives of any kind may be enclosed in a letter, nor any statement sent for publication in any newspaper or magazine. 6. The only address allowed by the censor is : American Red Cross Military Hosp. i, American Expedition- ary Forces, France. Distinctive addresses, such as or , must not appear on either envelopes or enclosures. FRENCH WOUNDED 67 7. Correspondence must be signed by name in full, not by given name only. 8. Letters are to be mailed at the Rue Borghese entrance and are to be left unsealed. Etc., etc. (Signed) Lieut.-Colonel M.C., Commanding. Did you ever, in your life? Well, you will all have to exercise your imaginations as you never did be- fore, reading my well-known likes and dislikes into all statements of facts. I wish I could tell you where we are stationed ! It is a great grief not to be allowed to. I think, however, that it is safe to tell you that we are in a smallish town near a largish city, through which flows a medium-sized river; but not a word more — the rest you must construct for yourselves out of your scanty material. Another reason why you will never have another decent letter from me is that I am so everlastingly busy. Especially this week, because Miss Hall, Mrs. Munroe's secretary, is away for a week's holiday, so I am really, instead of theoretically, on duty from eight to six. Of course that does n't allow any time to see the men or give my English lessons, so I do that from six to half-past seven — et voila une longue journ6e. I have also taken on a new corridor in addi- tion to the old one, for histories, which is very nice and very interesting, but more work than the other, as the new doctor dictates a fairly long diagnosis, de- scription of wounds, etc., and I take it in shorthand and write out the whole on the typewriter, making, of course, a much better-looking sheet. 68 ON DUTY AND OFF I don't think I told you of a picnic Miss Wilson and I had out at St. C , a town not far from here. (I think I had better at once adopt A.T.N.F.F.H. for the above phrase, and A.L.N.C. for a large near-by city, it will save so much time.) Well, aforesaid town has a very lovely park on a cliff or prominence, over- looking A.L.N.C. and underlooking a beautiful ex- panse of sky. We started forth about five, with a bag full of provisions for a most delicious supper, and af- ter taking the wrong car and walking miles and miles, we arrived, selected a grassy place with the best pos- sible view, spread forth our viands — and discovered that the only thing we had forgotten was the solid alcohol! So we had a most healthful meal of bread and butter, and carried back our coffee, condensed milk, bacon, and eggs. We had remembered matches. Nevertheless, the morale (I think we are neither of us members of the armies, though I am not quite sure) of the picnickers was such that they had a per- fect time in spite of slight drawbacks. The sky did its best for us, and its best is not to be sneezed at — gorgeous masses of goldy and blackish clouds, just letting the sun through in little driblets and streaks that moved gradually across A.L.N.C, lighting up first one striking and familiar landmark after another; last of all a snow-white church, of Moorish turrets, which stands on top of a hill. ... I tell you how I can speak of places here, without bothering any one — I will call the L.N.C. Boston, and A.T.N.F.F.H. Brookline, or Chelsea, or Dover, as the case may nearest seem. . . . FRENCH WOUNDED 69 I have been twice to lunch at Miss Radcliffe's, and, oh my, the food ! Never have I tasted anything equal to it in all my days. And there was an ambulan- cier there, just back from Chemin des Dames, where he — oh, but, alas, that would be his physical condi- tion. Well, anyhow, he is going back to his wife and three children and I fancy they may like to spend some time at Saranac — the mountains are so lovely all the year round. He told all kinds of thrilling tales — so thrilling that it just made every emotion in you come to the surface at once. Even discounting some- what for a vivid temperament, as his evidently is, your hair would stand on end with horror and joy and interest, to hear him. The first time he took me home in a taxi, which he had kept waiting all the time we lunched and talked, and the second time he called for me and took me over in a taxi; that was rather chic, was n't it? I am invited to go again this Tues- day, but I can't get off. Miss Radcliffe and the Le- coques were just as nice and cordial as they could pos- sibly be, and most agreeable. The house has all sorts of beautiful things in it. Do you know, I am the only woman of my acquaintance here, French and Ameri- can alike, including little Denise Henri, fourteen years old, who does n't smoke? I have always hated it when I have tried it, but I feel rather out of it, I must con- fess, from a social point of view. I am having a beautiful time in my best ward now, being appreciated. The nurse whom they adored has gone and they detest the new one. 70 ON DUTY AND OFF September 6 I suppose I may consider that I am to stay over — have been so considering, in fact, for some time. I shall be very glad to see through a winter here, though the autumn has set in very badly, — cold and rainy, — and every one feels moved to tell you how truly awful the winter is. Apparently it sleets almost all winter, and the cold penetrates to the marrow and never leaves. Everything is damp all the time and it is so dark that you can't read in a room with two big windows after half-past two without artificial light. Sounds jolly, does n't it? You get a cold that you keep for months, and food gets worse and worse ! But as I say, I shall be glad to know what it is like. I wish I could have had you with me out on the corner terrace late this afternoon. It is really the pleasantest time of the day, for my particular men are most of them collected there, on sprawlers or in wheel-chairs, and the day nurses have gone and the night nurses not come, and there is a general air of sociability and relaxation. I usually leave the office just after six, tired and prepared to go straight home ; but I have to pass by that little terrace and I never am able to resist sitting down and spending an hour or so — and get quite rested in the process. They are so nice. There are three particularly nice new men ; one very rosy-cheeked and round and cun- ning; another, just very nice with a lean face and very blue eyes that laugh in a most infectious way ; and the third quite a beauty, rather Spanish style — espe- cially in the evening when his temperature goes up FRENCH WOUNDED 71 and gives him bright color to contrast with his masses of wavy, jet-black hair and very dark gray eyes. I wish I could tell you what it is about these men that is so utterly different from Americans and so thoroughly charming; great abandon and respon- siveness are two things — no pent-up, restrained, self-conscious emotions. No, that's not it at all; I guess I can't tell you — and you will never know from pictures, for I did n't from Jamie's, and it takes time before you feel it even with the actual men; at least it did me. Their touch is lightness itself — that's nearer the central point than anything I have got yet. Then they suddenly say something that makes you want to cry, like poor old Petit, who said this morning: ''Mees, I dreamed last night that I was walking around on my two legs, and it was so nice." As soon as he is in condition, Petit and I are going to take a cab and go in to A.L.N.C. and have him fitted with the very finest American leg we can find, and then we are going to have a wonderful dejeuner — the latter part of the plan being Petit's. This morning I went into one of the wards where they have only jaw cases, to talk with one of them who is printing photographs for me, and seeing ten or so together that way, every one with his face ruined (tempora- rily at least) , none of them able to speak intelligibly, all of them drooling and sucking, just made me shud- der. When you see them separately, as I have done right along, you so quickly learn to know them that you entirely forget their looks. When I got back to the office I found my filleul, 72 ON DUTY AND OFF the one I took of my own free will (I had to get rid of the other), waiting to see me. He is quite sweet and unbelievably ugly. So I made a rendezvous with him for seven o'clock, met him at the Porte Maillot and took him to a Duval restaurant for dinner, and then across the street to a very good cinema. He enjoyed the dinner enormously, I may say. He tucked his serviette in his neck and always wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, saying as he did so that it was so long since he had had a napkin that he did n't know what to make of it, and after the soup, and 6galement the beans, he took up his plate and drank what remained — which was very little. When two elegant French gentlemen sat down next us he offered them our partly used bottle of mineral water (I did not confine him to mineral water) — which may of course be de regie, I don't know, but it seemed odd. However, they took it very well and conversed with us more or less, my boy usually leading the conversa- tion. He calls me just plain *' Marraine " and says it every third word — **Yes, Marraine," "No, Mar- raine." It sounds just as if he were calling me " mere." Mother asked me, by the way, if I always wore my veil in the street ; I don't at all, or hardly ever, but when I go out with blesses or filleuls, I do; that at once explains the situation to any one and in a veil I really believe you could go anywhere or do anything. I enjoyed the cinema much more than my godson did, and yet he ought to have, for it was very funny, part of it, and the humor of at least one of the plays was broad enough to suit any one. Perhaps the fact FRENCH WOUNDED 73 that they are all American makes them more amus- ing to us, though the audience as a whole roared with laughter. The part of it I really enjoyed most he did too — the pictures of the war. He kept laughing with glee when the cannon went off, and saying, " C'est bien ga, Marraine." He talked to all the people in front of us and behind us, and they seemed to regard it as the most natural thing in the world. I have n't seen any war pictures over here before, and you can't imagine how queer it is to have the thus and so at Morte Homme, or C6te 304, or Chemin des Dames thrown on the screen, when I have had men from them all; somehow cinemas never seem at all real at home, but these did, I can tell you. Then in an evacu- ation from a hospital at the front, one of those whose names I have so often written on my records, there were our ambulances, or at least the American Field, looking so exactly as they do that I could n't believe I was n't in the Ambulance yard. I want to go again; but it begins at half-past eight and that means an aw- ful rush after dinner, as the war pictures come first. Saturday I went to dinner with Bobby and George and had a most wonderful party. I met them at their hotel — having spent my first night in A.L.N.T. there I still feel as if I owned it — and we took a taxi and drove through the Place de la X.Y.Z. and across the river, with a most gorgeous sunset up the boulevard behind the Arc, and reflected in the river, and called for Mr. and Mrs. Crocker, . . . and then drove for miles, more or less, out beyond the city limits to the Pare Montsouris, where there is a de- 74 ON DUTY AND OFF lightful little restaurant called Pavilion du Lac, be- cause if there had been enough light we should have found ourselves near a darling little pond. As it was, there was no light, but you had the feeling, as you sat out on the back piazza of the Pavilion, that endless country spread before you, more endless, I dare say, because of the darkness. Anyhow, the wind blew through the trees, and it was delicious — and there were lots of stars. In the large room — there is only one — there was a wedding party, of about fifteen people, bride in white lace and veil with wreatl\ of orange blossoms, and everything very comme il faut. We were on the piazza, just outside an open door, with a low screen between us, and there was no one else there at all. Of course, we peeped over the screen, and then they came and peered back, and pretty soon we were drinking healths all round, and the bride came out and gave us little artificial orange blossoms from her wreath. They had a good deal of singing — solos, of, one would say, the most doleful character, all minor and about sixteen verses long, which Mrs. Crocker says are the regular and neces- sary accompaniment of a French wedding dinner. They, and we, got gradually more and more warmed up, and when they sat down and started to play dance music, one of the girls came out and invited George to dance — which he at once did. Then an- other invited us all in, and for about an hour we had the most delightful Bostoning — delightful, that is for those of us who danced with each other; the men who danced with the French girls had the worst of it, FRENCH WOUNDED 75 for the girls could n't reverse. They could n't play particularly well, and neither could Mrs. Crocker, and you know that I have but a poor pennyworth of dance music, but between us we managed to have a great time; and when it came to going home, the girls kissed Bobby and George and Mr. Crocker (who was in U.S. uniform) soundly on both cheeks, and me too. We were all turned out of the restaurant, ac- cording to law, about half-past ten, and the whole party (from which we speedily detached ourselves, as we had no wish to be run in) went carousing and snake-dancing down the street, singing ** Madelon, Madelon, Madelon" at the top of their lungs. I will get the music and send it home — the boys sing it a great deal. Now, I ask you, was n't that a party? And incidentally we had the best dinner I have ever eaten. They were so cordial, and we had such a good time — none of us had danced for ages. September 9 I had a morning off, and cooked one of my inimita- ble little breakfasts — the big treat this time being a poor attempt at toast. At eleven I went to the Rus- sian Church, which is wonderful; the next time you are here you must do that, if nothing else. You go into a round church, quite small in area, with round arches every direction — overhead, and an upper and a lower one on each side — something like St. Sophia. The walls are all covered with either mosaic or frescoes, I am uncertain which, in effect like the front of St. Mark's — dull gold background and 76 ON DUTY AND OFF really beautiful figures in soft, full colors. The floor is covered with a thick carpet, and there are almost no chairs or seats of any kind ; every one stands through- out the hour and a quarter. The first-floor round arch opposite where you come in is filled up about half- way with a very beautiful screen, in this same gold and color — panels, with figures, and carved wood between panels. I must try to get some pictures of it to send you, for I loved it. In the centre of the screen was an open-work door — brass, I should say — which was closed. There were a few little side altars, but arranged symmetrically, and all making part of the general scheme and beautiful in themselves, instead of making a most awful melange the way they do in the cathedrals. People bought candles, and came and lighted them and stuck them in a circle in front of these little shrines, but the candles were real, and the little yellow flames were lovely. When the service be- gan, the priests were behind the screen, and the door still shut, with a heavy curtain hung behind it. The whole place was so tiny that you heard everything perfectly clearly. There were a few minutes of inton- ing, and then the most exquisite singing burst forth you can imagine; it was the Russian choir we heard at Symphony Hall, Father, only invisible, and in the most fitting surroundings. After a short time the cur- tain was drawn and the doors opened, showing the big altar — the simplest table, with a beautiful great mosaic behind it and seven yellow candles, coming up in a peak, in front — and a priest dressed in crimson velvet, an old man, with a long, black beard. The FRENCH WOUNDED 77 whole service, which lasted more than an hour, con- sisted of intoning, with responses by the choir, and two readings from the Bible (apparently), and two or three anthems. It was very religious in feeling, and the singing was perfect. How I wish you could go there ! You would all simply adore it. Sunday, alas, is a hard day for me to get off, but I shall go as often as I can. It was nothing at all like one's idea of a church, and yet it was as churchly as possible — the building, I am referring to now. Came back to lunch at the Ambulance, worked till six, and had a very pleasant hour on the terrace. Al- together a good day. , . . I see so many neurotic people! I don't mean at the hospital, but in the cars, and at public places. I don't know whether it is the war, or whether I have physi- cal signs rather on my mind. CHAPTER III U.S. AIR SERVICE, PARIS HEADQUARTERS September 13 You will be as surprised as possible before you have finished this letter, but you can*t be much more sur- prised than I. This morning I was peacefully in the office, when the telephone rang for me and Amy Bradley asked me to go in to lunch with her. It tran- spired that Betty Potter would be there, too, and had some business to talk to me about. After lunch, all the other girls filed silently out of the room, leaving me and Betty for our business conversation, and then she outlined to me a position she considered most im- portant — secretarial work at the technical depart- ment of the Aviation Headquarters. The position had been offered her by her friend Mr. Skinner, and she had refused it. They were in desperate need of an American secretary, and implored her to come if only for a few weeks, and she promised to give them her three weeks' vacation time or find some one else. Well, she made me feel that it was of sufficient im- portance to go and talk to Mr. Skinner, and the up- shot is that I am ''confidential secretary to Major — Somebody," and begin work there Monday at nine. I wish I could give you his line of argument, or rather the details, for I can give you the line; anyhow, he made me feel that I simply had no right not to go if U.S. AIR SERVICE 79 they wanted me. He feels that our great contribution to the war is airplanes, and that the quality and quantity we turn out in the next six months may de- termine the war, and will certainly decide whether it is to be six months longer or shorter; and that if the work failed anywhere along the line it would be the worst failure we could make; and that one place it might fail would be in the office — if they did n't have the right personnel — and that at present they lacked painfully an American secretary. He said that in his mind there was absolutely no question as to whether I ought to give up the work at the hospital or not; that where there I was helping to care for a few hundred blesses, here I would be helping prevent there being thousands of bless6s, by shortening the war. I can't tell you all the things he said but I just felt I 'd got to do it. Mrs. Munroe was awfully nice about it, though it is detestable to go off in this way when she expected to count on me. But I don't often feel such a thorough conviction that I am doing the best thing — I know it, this time. It is a real sacrifice (though with compensations), for I feel as if I were leaving home all over again, except that I can have half an hour with my children on my way home from work. The work will, of course, be much, much harder and more concentrated. The compensations are, in the first place, a salary, though just what I don't know, and, in the second place, responsibility ahead and an opportunity to grow up with a thing that is growing at the rate of a mile a minute. I won't take time to-night to tell you of the plan outlined for the 8o ON DUTY AND OFF future, especially as it is somewhat vague, for I want to post this letter the first thing in the morning on the chance that it will catch this week's boat. The blesses were too nice about it, and Petit said at first that he should demand to be evacuated at once, and then, when I said I should visit them every evening, he said that in that case he should stay forever. And Michel — well, it will just kill me when I do finally take leave of Michel. I shall stay on at the Henris*, so you might address mail there ; though I should always get it at the hos- pital. I don't yet know my new address. I shall be more directly under the Army, so mail regulations will be at least as stringent, I suppose. Next morning I feel worse and worse personally about this, but equally sure it is right; I am just drafted, that's all. September 19 Well, my dearest Father, this time I certainly have got one of my wishes — wherever I am not, I surely am in a large institution where things go with a hum and I work with men. Although I am still uncertain as to whether I can do the job, I like it ever so much so far. I never should have thought that in two days I could get to regard machines as a fascinating subject. My, but things move quickly here! A man comes in and applies for a job as translator; Mr. Skinner talks with him for about six minutes, engages him, tele- phones to the supply department for an oak table, U.S. AIR SERVICE 81 several chairs, a file, baskets, etc. ; man is given the book he is to start on and a temporary place in some one else's office, where he remains for about half an hour and is then informed that his office is ready. He is asked what kind of stenographer he needs, and she is shortly found and established. Et voila! And it is that way with everything; they are spreading out about an office every three days, as far as I can see, and engage several new office workers every day. The whole thing is like living in an E. Phillips Oppenheim political detective story, and is perfectly thrilling. The actual work is rather hair-raising, too, but in a different way — it is hard. In the first place, I am secretary to Major G., who is chief of the technical division of the production end of aviation, of which Colonel B. is in charge. Production is one of two di- visions of aviation, and includes the choosing and training of flyers as well as the decision on types of machines and equipment — everything, in fact, ex- cept the actual work in the field. Mr. Skinner is the Major's Civil Aide, and he and I sit in the outer office and guard the Major from undue interruption. All the offices are the most beautiful rooms you can im- agine, for they have the whole of a brand-new apart- ment house evidently built for the very rich — even to having a bath-tub ! Mr. Skinner is quite a wonder, I think. He certainly does a good job in his difficult position of greasing wheels that make about one hun- dred thousand revolutions per minute. One thing I do that almost kills me is to answer the telephone — half the time in French. There is a lit- 82 ON DUTY AND OFF tie switch-board, consisting of only two lines, but it about finishes me, even so. One line goes to the cen- tral and the other to the Major, and then you can make various different combinations of the two. It is awfully hard to hear, especially names, for they have the receiver and mouthpiece on the two ends of a straight handle about six inches long, and the mouth- piece is not bent round so that it is opposite your mouth, but is flat on, so you speak right past it. As every one else's is that way, too, you never hear any- thing spoken really into the mouthpiece. It may be hygienic (though I am sure it is not done for that rea- son), but it certainly is ineffective. Well, then there is Mr. Skinner's telephone which I answer if he does n't happen to be on the spot, and then there is the bell the Major rings if he wants me. And as far as I can see, or rather hear, they all have the same bell. Of course, I can't tell you any of the actual things that go on, for even without being told I can see that it would be impossible. So I will say nothing and be on the safe side. My hours are rather long, but not so long as the men's, who never go home before eleven and often stay till one or two. Mr. Skinner says that he regards it as he would getting shot — the chance of his being worn out, I mean ; some one else will take his place, and the work has got to be done on the in- stant with just as little regard for health as if he were in the trenches. The Major is a terrific worker, too, and yet looks as fresh as a daisy. He is quite young, not more than thirty- two, I should think, with a vigorous profile and bright brown eyes; very quick and de- U.S. AIR SERVICE 83 cided, yet very agreeable and polite and thoughtful of others; swears a good deal in a casual, genial way; I have n't yet seen a sign of temper ; very effective. To give you my routine — well, I can't, exactly. In the morning I do odd jobs of typing, with inter- ruptions every two or three minutes of telephone or people coming in. Then I lunch at some patisserie (rather dear, alas), and after lunch the Major is apt (on two days' experience I say this) to give me some letters, mostly to the Government at Washington and written in an exact form, and then there arrive certain young mechanics who give him the benefit of their ideas on the synchronization of machine guns, while I try vainly to take down the gist of what they say on a subject and in words I never heard of before. However, I feel much more at home with the subject to-day than I did yesterday and believe I can learn the essential points. If I only had time to go in and get a book on the principles of avions I should be happier, but everything at the office is in French. Then after that little conference is over I still more vainly try to make out my shorthand notes. My delightful plan of spending an hour every night at the hospital has so far gone to the wall, but I do go there at eight for ten minutes every morning. I suppose I shall have Sunday off — though if they both work I shall feel like an awful sneak — and I can go to the hospital then. Gone are my days of leisure — for leisure it was, even when I worked all day : I crossed the garden a dozen times a day and always stopped to chat with who and what-all, I went down 84 ON DUTY AND OFF to a peaceful tea about four, I took a long time off for lunch, and the hardest work I had to do was copying a few lists. But don't you care; I am glad I am in this other, and it will certainly sharpen my wits. To-day the Major was recommended for a lieuten- ant-colonelcy. September 21 By this time it Is Friday evening, and I have been at this job four days. I like it better and better. The second day I did almost everything wrong — fearfully stupid things — and was very discouraged and told Mr. Skinner I was n't geared high enough and he could send me back to the Ambulance right then if he wanted and not waste any more time on me. But he said if every one in the office was geared as high as the Major, nothing would go because no one would attend to the little things that kept the machine run- ning, and he thought it would be all right. Well, per- haps it will and perhaps it won't; I have no idea. If it does, I shcdl consider it one of the most thrilling things I ever did. If it does n't, and I were told to go to-morrow, I should still be very, very glad to have had these few days in an absolutely new world. It gets more E. Phillips Oppenheim-y every hour. I invested in a gilt-edged blank-book as a diary — for I hope to have energy enough to write down things as they happen every day. It would be much easier to do so if I could write them to you, but I can't, so I shall have to find time for both that and letters. I go to the Ambulance each morning at eight and U.S. AIR SERVICE 85 find my three particular old bless6s waiting out on the terrace; and then we have a little parley and I leave messages with them to be delivered everywhere over the hospital. This morning Gautherot brought forth a little brown paper package and presented it to me, and it was three sorts of cooky-cakes ; and Petit gave me a most beautiful huge red and yellow apple. Some one had brought them these things and they had saved them for me — was n't that pretty sweet? Petit said it was for ''peekneek." I think they think that *' picnic" means little extras in the food line. September 25 I may be said to have fairly got my nose to the grindstone this time, and if for a while my letters are somewhat scanty it is because I don't want it (the nose) to be entirely ground off. And life is certainly interesting ! Sunday (Sundays will now be the only things to tell of, because the interesting part of the other would n't get by the censor) I took out all my winter things and put away summer ones and sewed a little. Then I went down street to meet Petit, Michel, and Gautherot — the former with his cardboard and plaster pilon, which is the thing they use first for an artificial leg, and the other two on crutches — and we went across the Avenue de Neuilly to a certain little restaurant where we were joined by Dr. Gano, in his new American uniform, and there, at a table taking up the whole sidewalk, we had a long and very good dejeuner — a farewell party, for they have all three 86 ON DUTY AND OFF been evacuated and may go any minute. We had a great time. After lunch we hobbled over to the Bois, meaning to go to the cinema (which they chose in preference to a drive), but of course the electricity did n't march just that minute; so we looked at the very inferior zoo and then wandered along to an out- door concert. After a bit Dr. Gano and I left them, and he took me to the March6 aux Puces, which is one of the most entertaining things I have seen yet. In the first place, you go to the Porte de Clignancourt, which is the other end of nowhere. There you find a huge waste, like the Fens, only perfectly barren ; and laid out on newspapers or cloth, on the ground, every imaginable kind of old thing — clothes, shoes, china, pictures, books, carved Chinese panels worth eight hundred francs, buttons, nails, odd lengths of hose, insides of clocks, brass bells, candlesticks, etc., Paisley shawls, false hair, beds, stoves, canaries — there really is al- most nothing that has not its representative there. It extends over a space about two blocks long by half a block wide, and it is thronged with people who pore over these things. And none pored harder than I. I bought a brass bell for the Henris, for two francs; a silver or nickel or pewter belt buckle for one franc, and an American one cent piece of 1857, with a dove on it — remember it? The price was two cents, but the man presented it to the Doctor because of his uniform — it really was too delightful. If we had n't been going out to dinner I should have bought some china. Father would dote on it, and would doubtless U.S. AIR SERVICE 87 buy lots of nails, pipe joints, bits of leather for wash- ers, etc. You always felt that you might come on the prize of generations. October 3 To-day is Father's birthday and I send him kisses and hugs and wishes for a long, long life after I have come home! It is so late and I am so tired and my eyes are so tired that I am going to cut you very short. The Major came in this afternoon at quarter-past five, and after having eaten in company with me a most beautiful and delicious apple, he settled down and dictated one letter perfectly steadily till half-past seven, — - and all about monocoques and sur com- prim6s and speed scouts and side-slips, nose dives, tachimometers, inclinometers, etc. Such jolly dicta- tion ! I take it very badly because I can't seem to do it, as one ought, purely by sound. I repeat it all, and think of other ways he might have put it better, and say "x" to myself when he says ** unknown quantity" and do all kinds of stupid things like that. He never does. I never saw such a single-minded man. He does fifty million different things in the day, but he does just one of them at a time and during that time — be it for five minutes or an hour — nothing else exists for him. He tears off the greatest amount of work ever imagined. It turns out he is only twenty-six years old ! If I had written to you yesterday — and I only did n't because I did n't think I could stand it — I 88 ON DUTY AND OFF should have told you that I was getting my first real experience of the hardships of war — that I had been pulled out of a nice, easy, very delightful job that I could do well, and put into a job that was far beyond me, of which I was making a complete failure. I felt that I was not coming at all up to their expectations, for I am never '*on" to any of the things that go on round me, and I never start new schemes for them, or anything. But it turns out that the Major is satis- fied, so that is all right. The work continues to be enormously interesting and I am learning lots of things, general and particular. I feel every morning when I set forth as if I personally were going to lick the Germans, and I can tell you it*s a good feeling. Well, the way I must lick them to-morrow is by get- ting off that two-hour letter to the Chief Signal Offi- cer, on this boat, and if I am to do that I must go to bed. October 6 It is very cold and rainy to-day and as the barome- ter was rising I brought no umbrella; so I had to eat my couple of sandwiches and piece of chocolate in- doors and now have a few minutes to write to you. Last Sunday I had a delightful visit to my three dearest blesses who have been evacuated to an auxil- iary hospital outside of Paris. You go in the car for about half an hour, to Malmaison, and then walk for about fifteen or twenty minutes up hill, through the beautiful Pare of Malmaison, and finally come to a large mansion on the top of the hill, surrounded by U.S. AIR SERVICE 89 beautiful gardens and the greenest of green lawns, and lovely trees. There is a marvellous view, through gaps in the trees, across the Seine Valley and other valleys, at distant hills, and there is a sense of peace and quiet there which is not to be excelled — just the place for a poor little war-worn blesse to recover himself and bask and expand in the sun and the breadth of view. But, alas, alas, things are never what they seem, and I found a very disconsolate little bless6 who said that the place was all very well au point de vue de salubrite, but so far from the world and the bistro. They think less than nothing of it and would far rather be in some little hovel in Paris. The other two blesses had gone all the weary way down the hill on their crutches, and in to Neu- illy, to visit the Ambulance, and this child had to stay at home because he had raised blisters under his arms with his crutches. He was sitting in a large, airy room which he shares with only two other men, look- ing like three days of rain and studying English. So first we had an English lesson and then he took me on a tour of the domaine. Such tomatoes ! I wished my gardening family could see them. The flower garden was very large and filled to the Queen's taste — much more to the Queen's taste than to mine, in fact, for it was of the very formal, bedded-out vari- ety; but still, with the well-kept lawns and trees it made a very good whole. I almost turned Catholic in order to stay there; oh, no, I remember afterwards finding out that it was no longer a convent, but had been bought by the owner of one of the very large go ON DUTY AND OFF department stores here as a place where his tired or old employes can go and spend as long as they like for an infinitesimal sum ; and there is another house a little farther down the hill where they take care of the sickly children of his employ6s. I should love to go out to this infant asylum and take care of them. October 8 Breakfast time. There is a most gorgeous great airplane performing for my express benefit — it ap- pears out of the clouds, comes straight for me, circles round over my very yard, and flies away again, mak- ing its other circle behind great masses of cloud. I think it is a hydroplane. Here it comes again, for about the sixth time. It is cold to-day, but the clouds are lovely — pur- ple and goldy. I do enjoy to the utmost taking my breakfast right in this big French window. The sky almost always has something fine to offer, and it is such a peaceful, leisurely way of beginning the day — leisurely even on days when I don't get out of bed till quarter of seven and take the half-past seven car. October lO Wednesday evening — already after ten. I wish Thursday was n't the day for posting letters, for if I write Sunday the letter is so old by the time it reaches you, and if I wait till Wednesday there's never any time. To-day, for instance, I began work — half an hour from here — at eight in the morning and stayed till six, went to the dressmaker's (I am U.S. AIR SERVICE 91 having my last year's blue jacket made Into a waist to wear with the same skirt), another half-hour away, returned for. dinner, and afterwards went to the Lauths', where one of Madame Lauth's innumerable brothers or brothers-in-law just back from Flanders was giving an account of their doings there — al- most all of which I missed. I saw, however, his very interesting pictures of captured German balloons and airplanes, of Guynemer, the French aviator, — the *'ace of aces," — of the guns and trains painted k la Mr. Thayer, and of various towns in Flanders. I also saw on a very large-scale map what the French and English have done since July 30, and, oh, it looks so small ! But its importance is evidently not in propor- tion to its size. At noon to-day '* a soldier" was announced for me, and I went down and there was Petit, all smiles, come to dejeuner with me. He had just received permission for ten days, and was starting that very night to visit his family down beyond Lyons. His father and mother have been once to see him at the hospital, but he has n't seen his two sisters and nephews, or his brother-in-law whom he adores, or been home for eleven months. He was all excitement. He says they will be just making the wine. I lent him my kodak and two films to take pictures of all the family and the wine-making. They simply love snap-shots: Petit's entire luggage consisted in his pocket-book, with his permission papers and a canvas bag with photographs of different people at the hospital. So we had dejeuner together at a little cafe. I simply love 92 ON DUTY AND OFF *' going out" with them, for they have such wonder- ful manners and always take charge of choosing the table and getting a waiter and ordering (whatever I have selected), and hurrying the waiter up, etc. This time the dejeuner was on me, and then Petit ordered cafe for us as his treat. Last Sunday I went out to see the three of them again, at Malmaison, and as it was a villainous, chilly, on-the-verge-of-rainy day they met me at the car and conducted me to a little bistro, where we had the whole place to ourselves, and treated me to drinks. First we had porto — doux for Mademoiselle and less so for themselves. I suggested eating at the same time the sandwiches I had brought to picnic on, but they were horrified and said that one never ate and drank porto at the same time. So, very slowly and with much conversation, we consumed our tiny little glasses of thick yellow stuff. I thought they had en- tirely scorned the sandwiches and was just going to put them back into my bag when they started to open them. Then it appeared (I shall never learn these things right) that one could n*t eat sandwiches with- out drinking; so we had big glasses, of Bordeaux this time, and lots of healths and the four of us gobbled up twenty sandwiches of p^t6 de foie gras and marmalade (not mixed). I can hardly wait for your first letter after knowing I Ve changed.. I shan't feel in communication till then. I enclose this carbon of my letter to Mrs. Hitch- cock, in case I say anything in it I have n't said to you fifty times before: U.S. AIR SERVICE 93 Mother has told me the delightful news that you have given me twenty-five dollars for a blesse. There are so many things to do for them! I have decided to put this twenty-five into the price of a first-class artificial leg for one of my particular friends called "Petit." He is the most entertaining and dehghtful person — very small, very thin, with one leg amputated and an arm that looks un- believable in the X-ray, it is so broken and twisted, a crooked nose (not as a result of the war), and a tilt to his head that makes him look just like a bird, and the greatest sense of humor. He is not one of those who are almost imperturbably good-humored and content, but has great ups and downs; but when he is up, there is no one more active and amusing. He goes hopping round the ward on his one leg, scorning a cane (he cannot use crutches on account of his bad arm) and going about twice as fast as the men who have two legs. It is really quite remarkable to see him go, for usually the amputes are so afraid of falling that they go very slowly even with crutches. He was a coiffeur by trade, and what he will do later I don't know, for it will be a long, long time, if the time ever comes, before he can use his arm. Yesterday he was an- nounced for me downstairs at the Aviation, where I am now, and had come all the way on foot from the Etoile (which would take me fifteen or twenty minutes walking fast) to tell me that he had been granted a leave of ten days and was going down to visit his family near Lyons. It is eleven months since he has been home, and he was as excited as possible. Whenever we meet we always talk of the wonderful leg he is going to have when he is ready for it, and I really think it is the thing he looks forward to more than anything. He always assures me that on the day when we go to get it we will go to a restaurant and have the very best dejeuner we can find — and I al- ways agree that that will be the big party of the year. 94 ON DUTY AND OFF October i8 I have had rather a social week. I have taken lunch in company with Mr. Fairbanks a number of times, and he is very nice and entertaining. Then I went to supper with Helen and Edith and Catharine McL. the night before they left for a French hospital at the front — as near the front as a woman can get — be- tween Soissons and Rheims. They had only just got their orders the day before and were leaving the next morning at six, so they were highly excited. They all seemed in fine form. They will have the most thrilling experience in the world, now. I saw yesterday one of the auxiliaries at the Ambulance who is about to leave to join a friend (whom I used to know at the Ambulance) at a French hospital near Verdun. This other girl is in the operating-room where, during this attack, she has been on duty with the shortest possi- ble intervals for food twenty-four hours at a time. She sleeps in a little tin hut alone and is anxious to have her friend arrive, for she finds the hut a little lonely when the shrapnel begins to patter on the roof! One nice thing about this job is that I have to cross the Champs Elys6es, about midway between Etoile and Concorde, every morning, when the sun (if any) shines directly on the Arc de Triomphe, and the chestnut trees are all russet-colored and the avenues are full of blueness — it really is worth while. From our balcony we get a delightful view, toward Mont- martre on one hand and the Eiffel Tower on the other. The beauty of Paris is more and more striking. But getting home in the evening — by which I only U.S. AIR SERVICE 95 mean seven o'clock — is less charming; either I have to go in the Metro and be absolutely jammed to jelly in a hot, smelly crowd, and then quite a little walk on the other end, or else I have to go over to the surface line, wait fifteen minutes or more, and then have two or three cars (at long intervals) go by, too crowded to take any one on. I felt so mad last night, after strain- ing every nerve to get on three different cars and fail- ing, that I almost decided the Metro was better. The job continues to be most interesting and in- spiriting. There are hundreds of people in and out of the office all the time, French and English and Ameri- cans, and something doing every second. And the Major is still a joy to work for. I never saw such in- stantly focusable concentration as he has. Leaving the outer office, where the telephone is ringing and every- body is wanting everything, and going in to him to take dictation is just like finding the still heart of the storm; you realize that everything is whirling and raging with great force, and yet it is centralized and unified so, there, that — well, I break down on words at that point — do it for yourself. I enclose a letter from Petit' s father — I told you Petit had just gone home on convalescence for a few days. He evidently believes in phonetic spelling. Ma chere demoiselle : Veuillez je vous prie m'excusez de la liberte que je prend pour vous trasser ses quelques ligne, mes avan tous laissez moi vous dire que notre cher fils cherie vien d'arrive chez nous pour nous rendre visite, sait se que nous a donne la joie et la gaite, de le voir si bien remis aussi c'est a son non que je vien vous remercier de tous les bon soin apporter par vous et les bon service que 96 ON DUTY AND OFF vous lui avais rendue. Aussi, Mademoiselle, je vien vous remercier beaucoup de tous se que vous avais fait pour notre cher fils tant aimer; je ne saurais trop quoi faire pour vous rendre le bien que vous lui avais prodigue. Mainte- nant Mademoiselle vous pouvez croire que nous serions heureux si un jour vous 6tiez de passages a Loriol de bien vouloir vous arrete pour nous donner un bonjour, sa nous ferais grands plaisir de faire votre connaissance et vous regevoir dans les conditions qui vous et du, vous meriter tante notre attention, tante notre estime. Croiyer, chere demoiselle, que moi et ma femme nous vous remercion beaucoup et notre fils nous prie de bien vous remerciez a son tour et vous donne un bonjour et une bonne poignee de main san nous oubliez. Mercie encore une fois, chere mademoiselle; au plaisir de vous voir un jours, recevez toutes nos amitiez. Vos ami pour la vie, Monsieur et Madame Reynier, a Loriol, Dr6me. Mon fils vous remercie beaucoup de son petit paquet que vous avez bien voulue lui donner. A sa grande sur- prises lorsquil a ouvert de lui trouve le contenue de lO f . Aussi mille fois mercie. / Sunday, October 28 Father's lovely fat letter of September 26 reached me two days ago, with several others. None from Mother since one of September 20. Yes, indeed, I have received your clippings from Uncle Joe's calen- dar and your post-cards ; I am always in so much of a hurry when I write that I forget to say so. The picture of Radcliffe adorns my wall and the post-card of the West Boston Bridge I show to all Boston people to make them homesick. I have n't tried it out on Skin- ner or Fairbanks, but I will. The sugar and grape- U.S. AIR SERVICE 97 nuts I have not received. The newspaper is fine when it comes, which it does more or less irregularly ; I cut out two good pictures and stuck them up: one of Lloyd George, Sir Douglas Haig, and Papa Joffre; the other of Cousin Lawrence and Cousin Henry. How I wish I could have been at home on Mother's birthday — or indeed on any other day ! While I am not homesick, I should more and more enjoy a few days at home. However — Every one in the office has had terrific colds ex- cept me. I have an awful feeling that one is coming on now, though. It is n't that it is awfully cold, but the constant fog, with intervals of rain and about five minutes of dazzling sunlight every two days, is very penetrating* This afternoon I went to the Ambulance and had hardly gone into Ward 69 when a man appeared with a letter in Louisa's handwriting, and behold Filleul Alfred! She has chosen well, I should say; he seems like a particularly nice man — very sympatica, very cheerful, interesting, well-mannered, altogether very satisfactory. I could not see him long then, but gave him two bunches of cigarettes which I happened to have in my muff and invited him to dejeuner with me the next time he has a Sunday off — in about three weeks. His present address is 104 Rue Muliers, Comp. C.B.P., Ivry, Seine. He has been transferred and is now on a boat, carrying munitions and other insects up and down the river. He appears to be both boat- man and carpenter — or joiner, rather — by trade. He wants to be transferred again somewhere where 98 ON DUTY AND OFF he does only carpentry and no boating, though not because the river work is cold in winter, which I should think would be a first consideration. He has been three years in the trenches and never received a scratch. His company has been emptied and filled and emptied and filled to the extent of three thousand men, of whom only he and one other remain of the original set. Ill-expressed, but you see what I mean. He received a citation quite recently of which he is going to send a copy to Louisa, and he is evidently a first-class man. Was n't it funny that he should hap- pen into the ward during the very ten minutes I was there? I was so glad. I lunched to-day with the Janets and had a good time. The daughters are gentle, intelligent, and genu- ine. Beside them there was a boy, a cousin, and two girls — one an English girl who has lived twelve years in France and is a great friend of Helene Janet's. To-morrow she is going to Aviation to apply for a place: wouldn't it be funny if she came into our office? I hope she will. We take on a new stenogra- pher about once a day, it seems to me. She is as bright as a button and fearfully well read; particularly at- tractive. The other girl was a doctor — a surgeon ! Also very agreeable. We had quite a chat about wooden legs. Dr. Janet was lively to a degree. Both he and Mrs. Janet loved Boston and he says he will go back with me after the war. He was genial and spicy. The table conversation was such fun and so in- teresting! The English girl had much to contribute; her father is a newspaper man, writing up foreign U.S. AIR SERVICE 99 affairs for some English paper, and she knows very much what is going on. Dr. Janet sends Father his ** compliments." Saturday Petit came in and we went in town for lunch and to have him measured for his new leg. He is to try it on Thursday. At dejeuner a lady next Petit began to talk to him and told us all about her son, who had been killed. Poor thing; she wept more or less and said how glad she would have been to have him lose a leg and an arm like Petit if only he had come back alive, and how he had felt the same way; she would have worked her fingers off to support him. She was a widow and had no other children. Petit was awfully nice to her; he really is a most understanding soul. Saturday evening I went to the Lauths* to dinner and that was very nice, indeed. They are a homelike family and their conversation is interesting. One of their younger pensionnaires is studying the piano and practises five hours a day ; he has also a marvellously clear and full voice and sang Handel's Largo with violin, piano, and 'cello accompaniment, like an angel. They played a trio by Beethoven and some- thing heavenly by Mendelssohn. October 31 You seem to have such a vague idea of what I am doing and yet I don't see how I could be much more explicit. I rejoice to say I have been relieved of the telephone. Though I have done it once already, I am sure, I will again give you my day. Arrive at about loo ON DUTY AND OFF eight; open the windows; try to make the Major's desk look a little more aesthetic; sharpen many pen- cils; if Mr. Skinner isn't there, take papers from *'out" basket and sort them, giving practically every- thing to mail clerk; and start on letter- writing if I have any dictation in my notebook. If I have none, I get a folder of letters from the file room and try to in- dex them, which is awfully hard. They are trying to get the files into shape so that we can really find pa- pers on the dot. There are millions of papers that may be urgently needed at a moment's notice and may be demanded under a million different guises. It is really a job. I wish you would have the Library Bu- reau send me their pamphlets on filing — especially on the '*L. B. Automatic Index." Well, then probably I am called in to the Major for dictation, and sit there watching the blue curling smoke of his pipe in the sunlight and taking his let- ters. Perhaps he will have other technical people there, on wireless or photography or meteorology or instruction, and they will discuss the types and quan- tities of the various instruments and equipment needed, dictating a paragraph or two on each point as it is decided. And the smoke of both their pipes goes twisting and turning bluely up through the sun- light. I am so glad I enjoy smoke; it is a real joy to watch; one woman left because she said one of the men had "insulted" her — he had smoked in the very large room where she worked. Do you know, by the way, I am going to make a strenuous effort to learn to smoke without making faces of distaste or U.S. AIR SERVICE loi looking as if I thought I were going to bum my fin- gers. I literally have n't been anywhere where all the women, French or American, don't smoke — and when I went to the Janets* and Madame and the girls and their guests all did, I really decided I 'd have to learn — it seems so curt and unsympathetic to re- fuse to do what every one else is doing with enjoy- ment. But I cannot imagine that I shall ever like it. To return to my routine — that goes on off and on all day — dictation and writing, with some indexing, and asking every man who comes to the office what his name and address is, interspersed, of course, with snatches of conversation. I 'm afraid I don't make it sound very interesting, but it is — just keeping up with what goes on in the livest department of the most up-to-date and important branch of the Army is thrilling. Monday I dined with Bronson and a doctor and wife, his friends, at a very old restaurant with mar- vellous food, on the left bank of the river. After dinner we went back to these people's apartment and sat round the fire in one of the prettiest rooms I ever saw, and Bronson told thrilling tales of battle, mur- der, and sudden death from the British point of view. I thought he seemed in very good form. It certainly was good to see him, only I wanted the time to be longer. He looks particularly well carrying a cane — which is obligatory for English officers and forbidden for Americans. There seem to be all kinds of rules for the appearance and behavior of English officers; the French certainly do exactly as they jolly well please. 102 ON DUTY AND OFF It is raining now and I suppose will to-morrow. But when the weather is fine, or semi-fine, the great avenues with the blue, hazy distance and the bronzy chestnut trees against the bluey sky (it all is **y"ish — not clear-cut) are wonderful, wonderful. But I have seen no bright-colored leaves, though I believe there are some good dark reds along the river, out of town. To-day I lunched with Mr. Fairbanks, and Erica came round at seven to go out to dinner with me, only Mr. Skinner invited us both to go with him. So for the second time this week I went to a very chic res- taurant and had wonderful food, served by the owner of the restaurant himself — "Joseph" — who told us beforehand how unusually delicious certain things would be and they were. At half-past nine we were, according to law, turned out and then Erica and I sat in the rain, without umbrellas, on a bench under the trees of the Champs Elys6es for a while. Now I am writing to you and I don't dare look at my watch, but I will — six minutes of one. I had no idea it was so late and am not in the least sleepy — coffee again. November 9 Don't be afraid I will give away any State secrets, for in the first place I have no desire to inform the Hun, and in the second place almost all my letters will come censored. We have had some hectic days in the office lately, what with new officers dumped on us, early morning and unannounced inspection tours by Pershing (who U.S. AIR SERVICE 103 left death and destruction in our unmilitary milieu), and specially bad weather. Did I tell you I no longer have to struggle with the telephone? It is a perfect blessing, for the telephone system is worse than hope- less and the French telephone girl a perfect idiot whose word I don't trust for a minute and who an- swers back in the most insufferable fashion; I want to throw bricks every time I have to use the appareil. I am still keen on the job, though I am so slow I have to give myself extra long hours. How I wish I could tell you some of the things that go on through this office ! * What did I do last week? Lunched with Petit and Michel once, and had the following from Gautherot : Dear Miss Putnam : Le secretaire de Tassociation des trois bequillards vient d'abord vous adressez les meilleures amities de I'equippe, tout en regrettant bien de n'avoir pu accompagner, di- manche, mes deux camerades, mais defense de marcher et cette defense n'est pas encore levee; mais si cela dure trop, je crois que je passerai outre aux ordres, et sortirai quand meme. Le Petit a ete essaye sa jambe lundi, et il espere I'avoir bientot. II est tellement heureux de I'avoir que je crois que ce jour-la il est capable de faire le saut perilleux, chose dont vous pouvez vous rejouir et 8tre fiere, car il sera grace a vous que le Petit pourra marcher. II est vrai que vous Stes si bonne et si devouee pour ceux qui ont donne leur sang pour la cause de I'humanite, qu'il ne faut pas s'etonner d'une chose qui k vous semble toute naturelle. Vous m'avez dit un jour, si vous vous souvenez, que nous etions una grande race; eh bien a mon tour je vous dis, ce que vous faites pour mon camerade est grand. Je trouve que le geste 104 ON DUTY AND OFF de remplacer un membre vaut la peine d'etre admire. Vous pouvez me croire, c'est un blesse qui s'y connait aux beaux gestes, qui ose vous le dire. Je vous enverrai un mot pour vous dire nos intentions pour dimanche. J'espere que vous pourrez dechiffrez cette horrible griffonnage. Recevez de tout trois les sinceres et bonnes amities, Bien k vous E. Gautherot Will you write english for me. Je commence a oublier. Did you ever hear anything much sweeter? It takes the French to do a pretty thing like that. I am planning to try to get up a Camp Christmas party here. I shall put a notice in the New York Her- ald ^ for I think we might get quite a number and have a real party. November 13 How extraordinary that our quiet stay-at-home family should be so scattered and doing such different things! That is the immediate effect on me of reading the first bunch of Molly^s letters. I don't really be- lieve it 's us. The most important social event of the moment is that both Sidney F. and Mr. Lippmann are going away. I' shall miss Sidney, for I have enjoyed many lunches in his society and various slow walks out to Neuilly in the evening, with him reciting yards and yards of poetry or singing endless and delightful Eng- lish ballads. I shall miss Mr. Lippmann, too, very much. He is going over to England for a six weeks* U.S. AIR SERVICE 105 training for something — supply officer, I think — in Aviation ; and then will go to the front somewhere or to one of the schools. Sidney is going to-morrow to Italy on a volunteer ambulance section. Well, c'est la guerre. I have just written to Mary L. to see if she won't come up and do the files. To-day Cousin Richard came to lunch. He is very nice and I loved seeing him. We are at once setting out to get all the Americans in Paris to sing Christ- mas carols. We hope to get started this Saturday evening ; and I must immediately make a list of every one I know. We are going at the list on a large scale, and I hope we may get a decent crowd; though if most people are as busy as my Aviation crowd I don't know that we shall succeed. Speaking of Christmas, I received last night from Mrs. Wigglesworth the most delightful-looking Christmas stockings I ever laid eyes on. In case I don't get a letter off to her on this mail will you telephone out and tell her they arrived safely and it will be the greatest fun in the world to give them? The weather has not been bad so far, as far as cold is concerned, but it has been thoroughly damp and disagreeable. I have discovered just one rule for the weather: if it starts out rather cold and absolutely overcast and damp, it stays that way all day and you don't need an umbrella; if it starts pleasant (at all pleasant, for it never starts or finishes really pleas- ant), it rains before an hour or two is up. I shall have to take some time off sometime soon and buy some lined gloves — not that my hands are any colder io6 ON DUTY AND OFF than at home, but evidently if I am to avoid chilblains I must keep them warmer. My feet are always wet. But as I am in the best of health and am the only person in my acquaintance who has not had a very heavy cold, I dare say I shall live through. Sunday I had a full and pleasant day. I went to see Mrs. Munroe first (after having cooked my Sunday breakfast of bacon and fried apples, toast and coffee) and thought to get inoculated, but it appears that the hospital has only typhoid and para together. Then I met Bobby J. and went to the Russian Church — as lovely as ever sauf one soprano who was villainous. Then we went to lunch, and after a lei- surely meal went to Notre Dame for the organ music there — so different from the other. From the church point of view I much prefer the Russian to the Ro- man, but the music was wonderful in each. After- wards we walked for many blocks, past the Mus6e Cluny, which is, alas, closed, but is enchanting just from the outside, over to the Rue des Saints Peres, where I met Mr. Fairbanks. I went with him to the Sauveurs*; then we dined, "and after we dined we wined,'* and then walked for miles and miles down the Boulevard Rasp ail and the Boulevard Saint- Germain, Mr. Fairbanks singing without cease all the way. Soothing and agreeable. He took me back to Neuilly, and then the day was over. I wrote you the night I spent with K. R. in town, but I wrote before I had looked out her window in the morning over the marvellous bronze chestnuts under a dappled pink-and-gold sky, and before I had U.S. AIR SERVICE 107 walked up the wonderful, wonderful Champs Elys6es! The view and the walk would almost reconcile me to living at the Crillon — but not quite ; certainly not if I had to breakfast in the mausoleum of a dining-room as I did this time. November 21 I am sure you will be interested to know that yes- terday I took my courage and my money in both hands, demanded an afternoon off, and went and ordered a suit! My plum-colored one (to give the rusty thing a pretty name) has decidedly seen its best days and does not look at all well for my Sunday calls. The color of the new one is red ! — though not quite as red as I wanted. It has some black, fake fur on the collar, and as I have no black muff I think I will make him put a little on the cuffs. Of course, it is rather expensive, and I shall have to get a hat and waist to go with it, but I do like to have something a little amusing to wear Sundays. The great piece of news is that the pep and punch has gone from the ofhce — the Major has been pro- moted out of sight. It all happened very suddenly, day before yesterday, when a whole bunch — the Major's own word, so I know it is right — of officers dropped out of the sky and landed in every depart- ment, reorganizing the whole of Aviation and putting every one in a different place from where he was before. The Major is now a lieutenant-colonel and the third most important person in all American Aviation, being Assistant Chief of Staff to General io8 ON DUTY AND OFF Foulois (who pronounces himself Hke an Irishman not a Frenchman), the head of it all. From the Major's point of view (I suppose) and from the Country's, it is great; but it happened so quickly, without the slightest warning. That has so eclipsed everything else this week that I hardly know how to tell you of other things. If I follow Father's plan and begin at the end I may re- member what has happened — though I have a very queer lack of sense of time here, so many things hap- pen that three days ago seems like three weeks. Monday: Madame Henri, Jr., and Mr. Chochod, the lodger, came for me and took me out to dinner in A Large Near-by City. It was quite the Frenchiest restaurant I have been to yet, chock full of people all talking French instead of being about half Eng- lish or Americans, as they usually are. That was amusing. Sunday: Chanced to meet Hilda W. and Nora and had supper with them at Colombin's. Then carol practice, which went very well, I think, except for the fact that there were about fifty women and four men. I hope next week we'll get more. It was too good to be true to be singing carols again. Saturday: Was rather tired and went home to supper. At noon went round with Fairbanks to see his old battered am- bulance, which he had driven at Verdun and other choice spots and in which he has now fared forth to Italy. Friday: worked long hours — eight in the morning till eight-thirty at night, except for lunch. Thursday : farewell party with Sidney — dinner at the Franco-Italian restaurant, with the best Italian U.S. AIR SERVICE 109 wine I ever tasted, then took the car to Porte Maillot and went to walk in the Bois. We had quite a funny time in a way. When we went in we carefully noticed how we should have to go by the stars in order to get home; and then, of course, by the time we wanted to go home the stars were completely hidden by fog. As usual I was sure I could find my way by instinct and as usual I thought after awhile we were completely lost — we were, too, inasmuch as we had no idea where we were — and as usual we came out just where I meant to, the only drawback being that we found ourselves locked into the Bois; but a whistle and a franc got us unlocked. Wednesday: Worked hard and got home late. To-day did the same, pleas- antly broken by lunch with Bobby, who has his com- mission and is off in a day or two for real work. This is a stupid letter, but it is the best I can do for the present, as I must go to bed. As soon as the in- terval is over and things running smoothly again, I shall doubtless not start work so early nor end so late; but gladly would I work all evening to have the old hustler back to make you feel that the work will really help win the war. I keep thinking of how proud his mother must be of such a son — just barely twenty-seven and one of the most important people in the most important branch of the Army (or so we consider it). November 28 I am in high hopes of letters to-morrow and also of the promised Thanksgiving candy — to-morrow be- no ON DUTY AND OFF ing that festival. Lieutenant Skinner, Mr. Lippmann, and a particularly nice boy called Kenneth Gaston, and I are going to dine together somewhere by way of a family party — the funny part being that S. really is family. I have made the acquaintance of the most melting child: twenty months, quite plump, with tight red curls; understands English and French (one parent being one, the other the other), but doesn't talk; not particularly shy, and utterly absorbed and deter- mined. His costume was as abbreviated as possible, like all the children here. I am going there to lunch some day to see more of him — ''there" being the abode of an English girl whom I met at the Janets' and who now works at Aviation. I think we might become very good friends if there were ever time for such a thing. Sunday I lunched with Petit and Gautherot and Dr. Gano and then the doctor and I walked in the Bois for a couple of hours — it was a beautiful day, the first for a couple of months — never rained till about half -past eight. To-day I saw Petit with his new leg — a last fitting — and it is going to be great. He was in fine feather. December 5 I tried to write a poem or think of a joke for the Christmas Tree, but they would n't seem to come, so I send the enclosed — which will doubtless come too late. I worked at the office till eleven to-night, came U.S. AIR SERVICE in home and ate bread and honey, and it is now too late to write. I am well and working hard — much harder them I thought I could and get away with it. Christmas Breakfast — Two Pictures. I In France: Coffee, grapenuts and milk, and E.C.P. II At home: A long table with quantities and quantities of the nicest people in the world round it; and on it — oh me, oh my! Ham and eggs and turkey and hot biscuits and baked apples and coffee with cream in it ! Children rushing madly about, impatient for the Christ- mas Tree — and the latest baby brought in at ten by the nurse. Then the Tree and Cousin Frank singing his song, and the bucket and sponge ready to put out the blaze; and lapsful of presents for everybody, even for those who think they are too old to get any this year; and poetic poems and funny jokes, and finally every Mother-of-a-Family stag- gering down the street with her market basket full. Well; all I can say is, which breakfast party would you rather be at? Merry Christmas! December 9 This is Sunday morning and in spite of having just had a delicious breakfast of coffee and toasted honey sandwiches, I am in a perfect gloom : partly because I dreamed Mother came to visit me, but chiefly be- cause I am going to church with le Capitaine Truchet and then out of town to visit some friends of Sylvia D.'s who are half Cuban and half Bostonian — and I have been planning all week to wear my new cos- 112 ON DUTY AND OFF tume for the first time and it is pouring rain. Pouring so steadily that it is impossible to think it will clear in an hour. Yesterday I was getting an address from one Miss Livingston in the information bureau, of a place to buy a very cheap muff to match my coat collar, and it seemed to be too far, so she whispered to me that Monsieur de Monclos (a youth standing by) was just going that way and would I like him to get me a muff? Of course I said I should be enchanted, so she turned and told him, and without showing the slight- est surprise he said he would be delighted, and did I want one of the new smart shapes larger in the mid- dle and quite small at the ends? I almost collapsed — fancy a boy at home knowing exactly what the latest shape in muffs was ! It is the Frenchest thing I have met yet. Well — he got me a cute muff, not at all ex- pensive, but gray instead of black — the latter being more expensive and less chic. I can change it if I want, and I wish you were here to decide. I think I shall keep it, for I hate furnishings, whether of people or houses, that match too well, and it will be such a bore to change it and look for another — though M. de Monclos said, of course he would take it back for me — why should I bother? Does Louisa by any chance know Kenneth G.? As nice a boy, all-round, as I have ever met. Any girl, etc. Twenty years old, came over in the Norton- Harjes Ambulance. Of course he is leaving in three or four days with Mr. Lippmann for a course in Supply in England. Then every one I was in the habit of seeing will have gone. Such is life in Army circles. U.S. AIR SERVICE 1 13 There are three colis for me at the Ambulance and I am going to get them this morning. Perhaps it is my Thanksgiving treat! . . . After my bad start this morning I certainly had de la veine. We — le capitaine et moi — reached the Russian Church fifteen minutes early, but went right in, and found, contrary to custom, four men in civilian clothes, under academic gowns of gold-and- white brocade (the combination was bizarre), stand- ing in the body of the church, one of them swinging incense down the main path (there are no pillars and no seats and therefore no aisles) after each person had come in — as a greeting to that person, I thought, but it turned out to be to re-purify the air for the very grand personage who entered later. This was evidently a top-notch bishop or something like that. He entered finally, in black robes with a tall black cap with veil hanging down behind, and two heavy chains about his neck, and crucifix on each. He was welcomed by a burst of song from the choir and went immediately to the inner temple for a minute or so, conducted by two of the gold-and-white civilians who held him firmly by either arm. He had a very long black beard and was quite stunning. They then brought him back, stood him on a dais in the centre of the church, and brought up a stool with a pile of neatly folded stuff upon it and proceeded to clothe him in the following garments — each of which he kissed before donning: (i) surgeon's gown of white satin, enormous sleeves wrapped tight and tied around wrists; (2) a broad fitted band around the neck and 114 <^N DUTY AND OFF coming to the ankles — white, marvellously em- broidered in gold ; (3) a narrower band, same embroid- ery around waist, tightly tied behind; (4) deep em- broidered cuffs; (5) a large eighteen-inch diamond, white and gold with gold fringe, hung from neck with gold cords, and eventually hanging outside every- thing at one side, like a satchel; (6) a heavily em- broidered gown split up at the sides, but entirely cov- ering everything that went before, except the satchel ; (7) two stoles, one around the neck and hanging down in front, the other vice versa — I think it 's stoles I mean — broad, unshaped bands — these more heav- ily embroidered in gold than all that went before; (8) the chains and crucifix; (9) a great solid gold crown or bonnet, with enamel pictures — medallions — at the sides. All during the process the choir sang. I forget just what ceremony came next, except that he was presented with two gold three-candled candle- sticks, which he dipped toward one part of the con- gregation after another — evidently a blessing — ■ and had his hand kissed on presentation and recep- tion of the candlesticks: this was done at the end of each part of the service — perhaps half a dozen times in all. Then he went to the screen, which I have de- scribed before, and the doors opened and he was joined by four more priests all in gold-and- white, one with a crown like his and the others in tall red velvet caps — two very old ones with long white beards and rather long white hair, the others with coal-black beards. The service I could n't understand, naturally, but there was much more singing beside the re- U.S. AIR SERVICE 115 sponses than usual and at its very best. We were at one side in the very front where we felt very much part of it, and I can't tell you how solemn it was and how moving — the people's way of kneeling and bowing themselves to the floor is somehow very touching. It is so different from the Roman Catholic Church: Partly, I suppose, because the church is so small, but partly for more important reasons, I imag- ine, it all seems so much more intimate and personal — quite thrilling. I feel I was in the greatest luck to have happened on to-day. The music was perfection. Then I lunched with Truchet. The Champs Elysees is still green; I wonder if it ever changes? Last week and the early part of this week I had a good deal too much to do, but now we have six en- listed men, who seem a good lot, in the office, so I have less. For the time being I am still on call for Colonel G. and have had one or two interesting papers. By this time it is Thursday the 13th. It is incredi- ble that Christmas is so near. We are going to sing on Christmas Eve and also on Christmas afternoon. I am lunching with the Dells, where that darling little red- haired baby boy is. December 16 Do not think me unsympathetic if I don't com- ment more on your letters. . . . But I will certainly comment on people's being so fearfully nice as to give me money. I will write to them all, of course, in time. ii6 ON DUTY AND OFF Aunt Isa*s, I think, and perhaps part of the rest I will use for Christmas or the Jour de lAn, which is their great time, and get things for some of the bless6s who have gone — they will have less done about them ; and also Mrs. Wigglesworth has sent me twelve won- derful stockings which I shall distribute in Ward 69 and to Michel and Gautherot at Malmaison. December 26 Your cable arrived this morning, and very nice it was — though I wish it had been you instead. This is not to be a letter and there will be none this week. I have just drunk six cups of weak tea with lots of lemon in it, and I invite your inspection of the time-table below for the last three days — then you will see why I am anxious to go to bed early the rest of this week. Please bear in mind that it takes at least half an hour to get from anywhere to anywhere. Saturday J December 22 : Work as usual ; went in town to buy something at noon. Dined with F. Clarke to arrange party. Spent some time freezing in biting wind on the bridge watching the aeroplanes drop rockets — false alarm of a raid — wonderful night — brilliant moonlight above and misty over the river. Got home about 10.15. Sunday y December 23: Left the house at 9.30; went in town and walked up the Bid. de la Madeleine buying joke presents U.S. AIR SERVICE 117 from street venders — coldest wind I ever felt ; thou- sands of little packages to carry — mostly not tied with string. 1 1 : Reached F. Clarke's hotel and we went over to the restaurant. Went to the market hard by and bought holly and mistletoe. F. had trimmed the cun- ningest little fake tree you ever saw — about a foot high. Wrote slightly humorous inscriptions for the presents; arranged currant jelly and candied cherries in little dishes ; table really looked quite pretty. 11.45: Back to hotel; washed up; met the people; waited several hours for Nora and Hilda; turned out they thought it was to be Christmas, so we had seven men and three ladies. Very genial, good food and quite near-homelike. 3.30: Back to Neuilly; packed up Mrs. Wiggles- worth's stockings, ten of them, two having gone out to Malmaison, and lugged them over to the hospital — no light load ! Paid a call on Ward 69 and bought a bead chain made by a blesse for Aunt B. 6.30: Went in town; had dinner; went to the Red Cross rooms; moved about fifty chairs and tables; read some shorthand notes. 8.30 : Carol practice — extra long. 10.30: Home again. Monday^ December 24, 8.00: Left Neuilly. 8.30-9: Bought and arranged holly with big bows of red ribbon at the window or door of four offices; glad I did, for Colonel D. told me to-day that he ii8 ON DUTY AND OFF thought as many as twelve officers had said how nice it was. . . . Tied elegant pieces of red ribbon round ten cakes of Baker's chocolate which I stole from Mrs. W.'s boxes, substituting French chocolate of first quality for it — because that was just as well liked by the bless6s and American chocolate is so much appre- ciated by Americans — and gave them to the younger boys in the office. I hope Mrs. W. does n't mind it. It was the only Christmas present one of the boys had, because his family expected he would be back. 9-12.30: Worked. 12.30-2: Lunched and went in town to buy a Boy Scout knife for Max. 2-4.30: Worked. 4.30 : Left and went a thousand miles to the Hospi- tal of Val de Gri,ce where we sang carols downstairs to officers and doctors, and upstairs in a big ward where the windows had never been opened — really a GREAT success. 6.30: Dined with other carolers. 7.30-8.30: Back to the office for a message as to where Sylvia Dell had been able to get a room for the night. 8.30-9 : En route for a canteen at the Gare du Nord. 9-9.30: Sang to about three hundred soldiers — room thick with smoke. Went pretty well, though every one was tired. Got back to the hotel about 10.15 : Lay down half an hour or more. Later joined by Sylvia Dell and Kenneth. 1 1 : Went to St. Germain for the midnight mass. Only seats left were in the last row, even at that hour. U.S. AIR SERVICE 119 12-1.15: Service. Quite lovely singing, including the song Coz Frank sings at breakfast. 1.30: Something to eat, and bed. Tuesday, December 25 — Christinas : 6.40 A.m: a hot bath! 7.50: Reached hospital, brought the stockings down to the ward. Greatest possible success. They were crazy about everything. Mrs. Wigglesworth would certainly have been sat- isfied if she had seen Ward 69 at eight o'clock that morning. The night nurse had gone off duty and the day nurse had not come on, so I had the men all to myself and no one was trying to make beds or clean up. They had different methods of opening the stock- ings, but the favorite was to take all the little pack- ages out first and arrange them on the bed to gaze at and then slowly unwrap. They loved the colored papers; and the big red ribbon, which they said they should keep always. The favorite things, I think, were the drinking-cups and the "funny" things — *'guignols" they call them. There is one specially slow and solid man, rather older than the rest, who was really infatuated with his guignol. I left him still pulling the string and beaming at it. When I was leaving Petit asked me to tie a silver string he had wound round a tiny parcel done up in Mrs. W.'s red tissue paper, and then gave it to me saying that it was nothing — a little souvenir of France. I stuck it rather carelessly into my belt (for- tunately did n't lose it) and did n't open it till later 120 ON DUTY AND OFF at home, and what do you suppose it was? The ribbon barette with the palm, in bronze, of his croix de guerre ! — the thing you pin on your coat instead of wearing the whole medal. Did you ever hear of any- thing so sweet? I guess I '11 never in my life have as nice a Christmas present as that, again. 9-10.30: Breakfasted, and opened my Christmas presents. At ten Bobby came, being down for two days. 10.30-11.45: Walked by the Seine and back by the Bois with Bobby, which was uncommonly nice. 11.45-12.30: Got dressed and went to the Dells* for lunch. 12.30-3: At the Dells*; the Arosarenas were there and very nice, and Giles, Sylvia's nephew of about eighteen months, with bright-red fluffy curly hair and the pinkest cheeks and whitest neck in the world — in a cream-colored flannel suit, with emerald- green collar and cuffs — ravissant! 3-3.30: En route. 3.30: Sang at another French hospital — went finely. 4.30-5.30: En route and singing at a Red Cross gathering, which was almost the nicest, for there's no getting round the fact that the French do not appreci- ate Christmas. 5.30-6: En route. 6-7 : Resting, dressing, and going to the Lauths*. 7-9.30: Dinner, tree (without presents), music. 10: Bed. It makes me sigh again to reach that point. U.S. AIR SERVICE 121 Sunday, December 30 I adore Father's "rambling letters," so don't ever let him make them any different. This has been a "Christmas every day" week. I told you about the things that came on or before Christmas Day. Mrs. L. sent me the most delicious cake that ever was tasted: a Union dark chocolate, cake with fluffy white frosting under a thin coating of chocolate, on top, and more white in the crack. I can only say that it travelled perfectly, that there are Bostonians here to whose eyes it brought tears of joy, that there is no cake worthy the name in France — just ridiculous little pastry affairs — and that my birthday is February 21st. Mrs. L.'s cake arrived here at the ofhce and did n't last very long. Oh, but it was good ! — and about twenty-five people had a piece of it. To-day I had allotted for staying in bed, clearing up, etc., in order to get rid of a little cold I have had; but the Infant Hercules having returned I came down to the office at nine and have been here ever since — half-past four — though I have had almost no work from him, as he worked last night till six this morning and did n't get here till twelve in consequence. But there were various other hard-up-for-a-typist gentle- men to work for. As for living in Paris, of course it would save much time and be much better, but I am so thoroughly es- tablished I hate to move. Everything is the way I like it: I like the people, I do just what I want, and yet have some one to talk to when I do go home, etc. 122 ON DUTY AND OFF They have enough coal to keep the living-room very warm. My room is cold, I admit, but I am never there except when I am in bed — except when I get up in the morning, and then it is going some to stand in the middle of a flat tin tub and have a cold sponge. It seems as if shortly we should have no petrol ; in fact, already I feel very guilty if I read in bed any length of time. I have bought quite a pretty chain, I think, for a birthday present for Aunt Bessie. The blesse who made it described it to me as ** tres discret " ; I hope it is also gay enough to suit her disposition. I have been wearing it with much pleasure myself for the last week. The Jour de TAn is such a terrific holiday here that they are closing down one of the chief airplane facto- ries (all, I dare say) for two days! All the really smart children who play on the Champs Elysees have peasant women for nurses — Bretonnes, I should say — with enormously full skirts and sleeves trimmed with very broad bands of black velvet, black velvet pointed bodices, and little white embroidered caps. Many of them have delight- ful brown-red weather-beaten faces, and those very smooth foreheads and clear brown eyes that seem to go with the peasants. Little white aprons often. I have tried to see why the children look so very well dressed and have brought it down to four things : they wear very bright, clear colors — rarely browns and grays or dull colors ; the hats or caps match the coats or are very evidently meant to go with just that par- U.S. AIR SERVICE 123 ticular costume; the legs are very neatly encased in leather gaiters all the way up ; and the hair is always hanging, often curled or curly, and almost always striking in one way or another — there is a great deal of bright- red hair. Last night I went with Kenneth to *'Tosca" — ravishing! Very well done: excellent acting and fine voices. The music is too beautiful ; I wish I could see it three nights running. To-day we were to go to Chartres, but "the boys" decided we were all too tired and it was too cold to get up for the early train ; and I must say I think they were right. So I slept late and met them in town at Henriette's, where we lunched together and then went to see the pictures at the Luxembourg — which did n't thrill me. They have n't much of a collection. Give me Angelica Pat- terson's Souls, Mrs. Page's babies, Sargent's Rocky Mountain camps, with the blue smoke going up, a few Sorolla bathers, and an occasional Hallowell great oak tree on a hill, and you may keep your Lux- embourg. Oh, just add some Carl Larsen water-colors of his own children — and I will have them, please, in a warmish place, and not in a dark hall with a stone floor, several degrees colder than the air outdoors. That would have been another trouble with Chartres — neither train nor cathedral would have been heated; so we have put it off till next spring. After that we went and warmed up on some hot coffee. Kenneth left us to pay a call, and Lippy and I walked down Boulevard Raspail across the Place de la Con- corde bridge (hanging over the parapet a long time 124 ON DUTY AND OFF to watch the single red light of each automobile ap- proach the bridge beyond us and become two lights as it passed, apparently through space, over the in- visible bridge and was reflected in the river below). Then I came out and paid a little visit to Ward 69. Petit is sweeter each time. He has let his hair grow longer and it is rather curly — he is almost good- looking. He is to be evacuated soon to a hospital near his home in the south of France. I have been working quite hard this week, the In- fant Hercules being de retour, including a Sunday and an evening or two; but New Year's evening I went to a very gay and very pretty, old-fashioned musical comedy called **Saltimbanque" — had great fun. January 9, 1918 I have invented a way to get up in the morning which makes it almost a pleasure instead of an unen- durable torture. I have been having my window shut (by poor Madame Henri who murmurs, ''Quelle hor- reur, quelle horreur!" under her breath as she does so — they all shut theirs about two months and a half ago) and my quart of hot water brought at quarter of seven, and breakfast at quarter-past. Well, it seemed almost impossible to get up into that utterly chilly room and take an ice-cold sponge and get dry with a very damp towel ; so now I have breakfast at quarter of seven in bed, and of course I have to sit up at once for that, as otherwise the coffee would be stone cold, and by the time I have eaten breakfast and written a bit of a letter, if I have time, I am entirely ready U.S. AIR SERVICE 125 to get up. The only trouble is that I dress more slowly because I am so much more comfortable. To-day I have received the Christmas Box and your letters written after Christmas, so I feel as though we were really having Christmas together. The Box was great fun — really more fun than if it had come Christmas. Last night I had a very amusing time. I went out with Lippy and Kenneth to see the old lady Lippy lives with. He met her last autumn walking in the Park and fell into converse with her, and she said her son of just L.'s age had been killed in the war, and L. re- minded her so of him — and would he care to come and board with her? She dotes on him and absolutely spoils him. Her parlor is about eight by five and her kitchen four by five, and I could touch the ceiling (I think). She was thrilled at having us, and had pre- pared apple fritters, which we had with sugar Lippy's mother had sent her, and Bordeaux — then tea. We had quite a hilarious time. They walked home with me; about three quarters of an hour, but a balmy night. For three days now I have had about half a day's work to do and I have enjoyed myself a great deal. I do like either to work my head off or to do nothing — I hate having just enough to do. The end of last week I worked my head off , so I was ready for this change; this afternoon I literally did nothing. To-morrow, Sunday, I am going to send off little packages to anciens blesses — things I did n't get off at Christmas because I could n't get any cigarettes 126 ON DUTY AND OFF till just lately, and then from our Q. M. None of the French places have tobacco in any form. The lack of bread which you may have read of is apparently partly or mainly caused by lack of transportation facilities for flour and trains blocked by the snow. It is s^le comme tout underfoot — steady slush a couple of inches deep. January 23 I don't believe I ever told you about Colonel D., did I? He works in an entirely different way from Colonel G., but seems to get there quite as well. He knows when to emphasize and when not to; is very easy-going in a way — very informal and friendly — and yet when he wants a thing put through he gets it done in double-quick order. He makes the most auda- cious requests of the C.A.S. and always gets his way. He is not content with sending a letter — he goes along with it and gets the answer. You hear him say over the telephone, "You can't disturb me," and it's true. He says: "Why get mad over a thing when you can get everything you want without?" He lacks G.'s chief virtues, but is a very good scout. Mary has gone back again to Bordeaux. Saturday she and Kenneth and P. Drinker and I went on a party: dined at Boeuf a la Mode and went to the Theatre Frangais. We had the most wonderful "pressed duck" at dinner. It was first brought in to us on a silver plate and introduced — "Alice, the duck — the duck, Alice" — then taken to a side ta- ble near by, where three men carved it and three U.S. AIR SERVICE 127 more made a sauce of many good things in a chafing- dish, pouring on brandy and setting it all aflame, in the unique way they have here. The carcass, drum- sticks, etc., were then put into a silver cider-press and crushed, till all the juice ran out of a silver spigot into the silver chafing-dish — there to mix with the sauce and to receive the slices of duck. It was extraordinar- ily good ; but the best part was the reverential way in which the six men prepared it — their rapt attention to its welfare. The play was Abb6 Constantin and was perfect — the acting, the setting — everything beau- tifully done. We all simply loved it. As indicated above, I spent the night with Mary. Lippy went Thursday. Did I tell you, I wonder, about going to his house one evening and about the party his landlady, Madame Simonie, had for us? There was a little group of women out there at Passy who had a sort of sewing circle: Madame Simonie, Kenneth's landlady, Mac's landlady, and Madame Lethomme — a very spicy old dame who keeps a grocery shop and has a lovely, affectionate, but stu- pid niece. All was well until the advent of these vari- ous boys; but now the old ladies are ready to tear each other's eyes out and call each other every pos- sible name. The lovely Georgette and the boys have broken up the sewing circle. However, on Saturday I am going with Mac and Harry Harter, who now has Lippy's room, and Kenneth to Madame Simonie's in the evening. She lives very near the school where Peter Ibbetson went — we pass it on our way to Neuilly. 128 ON DUTY AND OFF January 25 This has been an almost painfully entrancing day. They all say Paris in spring really is something to dream of, but if it is more intoxicating than to-day I don't think I can stand it. When I left the house the fog was so thick you could n't see fifty yards, and during my forty- minute walk to the office I had every effect between that and a sunny day with blue sky overhead, though still fog below. By two o'clock, af- ter lunch, it was so lovely it almost hurt — creamy lights on the buildings and ravishing blue mists down the tree-arched avenues. We walked down by the river — way down right by the edge — and saw the towers of the Tuileries, and the trees on the banks, and the softly shining gold figures on the Pont Alex- andre, framed by the arches of the bridges. And we watched them build concrete river boats and peel off the wooden outsides, and — well, that's all, really, but the day just went to your head. Kenneth was on the top of the wave, probably because of a moonlight walk he took last night with " Pirie" a charming and bright, well-educated, and independent French girl who works in the file room where he does. She cer- tainly is a winner. Then at six we went to see a Mrs. Dodd, an Ameri- can who has been here seventeen years, and she told us about the wonderful face masks Mrs. Ladd is mak- ing for face cases — of bronze, almost as light as aluminum, painted. One man saw his mask and said: "Mais, Madame, c'est — moi!" I am going to her studio some day on the strength of living next door at U.S. AIR SERVICE 129 home, for it sounds thrilling; the face cases are so much worse than anything. Mrs. Dodd was extremely agreeable, entertaining and interesting — the kind of person who reads Tacitus twice through because it throws so much light on the war; Has read every- thing, knows everybody, goes everywhere, and ac- complishes a great deal in the way of good, solid work and lavish hospitality to friends and poilus alike. By the way, I am going to move in town some- where in the course of the next few weeks, in order not to have the lonely walk home at night. When I am settled I will cable my address. January 26 At home and in bed after an evening chez Lippy's landlady, with five French girls and a French boy and three of our own boys. We went there after supper and walked all the way out by the river in the full moonlight — very misty below. The Eiffel Tower, shadowly outlined, so massive and so graceful, with the moon shining on the upper part, two or three big stars round its head, and a yellow street lamp with long reflection at its feet, was something to see. Look- ing back toward the city there was a yellowish tinge to sky and water and mist — more beautiful than I can say, though not so intoxicatingly so as yester- day's sun and mist. It was a lovely walk and a scene I shall never forget. I walked on the stone wall part of the way. It was entirely deserted, you know, like the depths of the country. 130 ON DUTY AND OFF January 2'j Another enchanting day. Paris is certainly the most beautiful spot in the world. Came down to the office at about half-past ten, this being Sunday — worked till about half-past one and had a good lunch of rognons et choux de Bruxelle, which are such favorite dishes they are apt to be all gone by the time we get there. Then we crossed the Seine and walked down the left bank, regarding the most exquisite scene — the most alluring — possible. I wish I could describe it adequately, but I can't. It was all golden mist, with creamy buildings and bridges and river walls rising from mirror-like flat swirls of greeny, bluey, and gold water — occasionally a great pile of yellow sand on the quai to accentuate the yellows and browns in the water. The lines of the bridges and the way they are "stream-lined," as it were, to meet the walls, is marvellous — nothing on the dead level, but always a slight rise or fall. All along the bank were men of every age with enormously long fishing-poles, and just after Kenneth had bet me untold sums that no one would catch anything and I had failed to take him up, we actually saw a good-sized, white, un- healthy-looking fish brought up. The whole scene was idyllic, with a kind of unreality about it that made you wonder whether you had not been already trans- lated. Crossed the river and walked up through the Tuilieries Gardens, where the children's sailboats were all becalmed on the great round ponds, just the way and at just the hour we get becalmed at Cotuit. CHAPTER IV " BOMBED LAST NIGHT, BOMBED THE NIGHT BEFORE' January 31 As it will all be in the paper in glowing terms, I might as well give you my account of the taste of bomb- dropping we got last night. I was waked up, to my dis- gust, by the siren of alarm, but as we have heard it many a time, I went at once to sleep again, and was again roused from deep sleep by a voice saying over and over in my ear, **Les Gothas sont la, Elisabeth; faut descendre a la cave." It was too cruel. I had a dim feeling that this was no time to argue, so I dressed almost completely, vaguely trying to remem- ber whether this was like a fire and you tried to save things, and finally did put on my best suit and Cousin Ida's leather jacket and my hat and new watch, and straggled out into the dining-room — to find, of course, every one else in wrappers and coats and boudoir caps. I also found that Madame Henri thought it ridiculous to go down cellar, and, indeed, Suzanne and the children came back after they had gone halfway down. So then I took off half my things and went back to bed. By that time I was awake enough to hear the noises, but had no idea they were so near — they might have been anywhere. There was a dull boom regularly, which turned out to be the anti-aircraft guns; then, also quite regularly, but in 132 ON DUTY AND OFF groups, something like loud claps of thunder, which it seems was the forty bombs, and then once a series like pistol shots, which they say were pistol shots from a duel. It never occurred to me it was actually in Paris, but the next morning on my way in town I passed a house with the two upper stories entirely demolished. That gave me quite a different feeling about going down cellar — till I heard that this bomb had slanted down through part of that house into the cellar of the next, and then there did n't seem to be much to choose. S. claims that the centre of a broad street, as far as possible from collapsing walls, etc., is far safer than a house. So there you are. I guess the answer is, if you're hit you're hit, and if you're not, you're not. A French plane came down, apparently trying to land, in the Place de la Concorde, and was certainly a complete wreck. One of the men photo- graphed it to-day and showed me the print — says he will give me one. It is now quarter-past twelve, which is later than the performance last night, so I guess we'll not have one. One of the men picked up a tiny little German bomb which had struck a soft spot and had not ex- ploded. To-day Petit and Michel came down to lunch with me. Petit has- suddenly been evacuated to-day for Lyons, which is near his home. So we have said a ten- der farewell and I have promised to go there on my way home. Good-night; it is late. I worked to-night, but do not imagine that is tiring — quite the reverse, the PARIS BOMBED 133 atmosphere is so festive there in the evening. At six o'clock I was tired and rather blue; at eleven I felt as fresh as a daisy and gay as a grasshopper. February 5 To-day I worked till about eight on something for Dana. It is a joy to work for him, for he dictates slowly and uses English that is both correct and elo- quent; when you write it out you can just rattle ahead as fast as your fingers can go. We have all changed rooms again. At present Doris and I are alone in our glory in a large, empty room, which is quite a relief. We have plenty of visi- tors to keep us from getting bored and yet some peace and quiet. I make the poor child let me keep one big French window wide open all the time, so we are as snug as a T.B. ward. By to-morrow Colonel D. will have returned from a little trip to our Head- quarters, and then I expect we shall learn whether the C.A.S. has been able to fix it up with J. J. P. for us to stay in Paris. I shall be furious if I have to leave just when spring is coming and when I am moving in town to be near my work and other distractions. I tell you frankly je commence a languir. For six months I was all right except for very rare days, but for a month now I have felt the call of home strongly. . . . But I could n't bear to leave everything still going on here; I Ve got to wait and see the thing out — see how all our plans materialize. So I guess I 'm here till the end. There are always those who think the end will be in a few months. 134 ON DUTY AND OFF To-morrow night we are going to Mrs. Dodd*s for tea and she is going to give us hot corn -cake and but- ter! Ingredients provided by P. Drinker. Colonel G. came up the other day and bade us a final farewell. He has gone to G.H.Q. as a member of the General Staff. So that chapter is finished, and I can say without hesitation that it (meaning by it the little office I first came to) was one of the most inter- esting experiences of my long life. I begin to suspect it was quite as much R. D. S. as E. S. G. that made it so. D. has got an extraordinary brain; I think that sometime in the next few months I'll get into his office. February 12 Kenneth has really left Aviation and goes to the Artillery School at Fontainebleau Saturday. Well, as you will have gathered from my wedding- day cable Mary L. and I have taken a room together, and I hope we shall be able to live harmoniously. I think we shall, although we apparently differ on almost every detail of our mode of life — she pre- ferring the stable and more conventional and I the easier and more entertaining. But we can each do as she wishes. Address is 18 rue du Cirque. It is where Cousin Richard lives — a sort of cross between pen- sion and hotel. February 17 Just back from **Tosca." When we got out every one was running, and behold there was a raid on. PARIS BOMBED 135 You don't know how pretty the French planes are — great yellow "flying stars," or yellow with two tiny red tips, or just the two red tips alone, sailing through the moonlit starry heavens. The red ones are the tiny lights on the wing tips: We went for the Metro and stood at the entrance, in the Place de rOp6ra, watch- ing the planes and the silvery flashes of shrapnel from the anti-aircraft guns, and listening to words of com- fort from strange Australians. The Australians are certainly attractive — so very big and clean-cut and often handsome, with genial faces; they are about the most attractive set here. Well, the anti-aircraft guns boomed away; after a while we went into the Metro (which did n't marche, of course) and waited till we got sick of it, and by the time we had fought our way out the raid was over. No bombs were dropped (so far as I heard) while we were outside, but I thought I heard three while we were in the Metro. I don't know whether or not I have hitherto suc- cessfully camouflaged the fact that I was witnessing a drama of the heart. At all events, on Friday came the oflicial betrothal of Kenneth and Pirie, a French girl of whom I have certainly written. She is a very nice child and the two seem devoted to each other. Kenneth has been at Fontainebleau about four days and misses her fearfully, naturally. He is so young! February 20 Mary and I are quite respectably settled in a good- sized room with an open fireplace where we are going to have a fire to-night when Louisa and Nora come to 136 ON DUTY AND OFF dinner. Cousin Richard and Dr. Wright have the room over ours and R. C. C.'s secretary and a clinic worker have the one over that. They four have a fire in one of the rooms every night and read aloud and at ten o'clock have tea. I went up for tea the other night when Mary was out for the evening. Yesterday I rode way over the city on M.*s bicycle to see Dana Skinner, who has been having an opera- tion, and back again in an incredibly short time. I think I shall have to hire a bicycle. Yesterday I said farewell to Kenneth, which cost me a pang. He has grown a good deal older in these past weeks of experience. He is now a second-class private in the French Army, enrolled in the Legion Etrangere. The course at Fontainebleau will take three months or more and we will hope for the beauti- ful impossible by that time. I do like Pirie very much ; she is a jeune personne tres serieuse in spite of great gayety and fetching ways. ... As for food, I am sure you are abstaining more than we. On the other hand, there must be something wrong with our food here, for we want to eat all the time and discuss meals past and meals to come all the rest of the time. Here is a very slightly exaggerated day: 7.15, breakfast; 8.45, prepare Kenneth's lunch; II, eat Kenneth's lunch; 12, a little chocolate; some- time during the morning, Lieutenant B. sends an orderly to Quartermaster for cornmeal, etc., and has the stuff taken to Mrs. Dodd's; 1.30, lunch, including shredded wheat left to us as a legacy; 4, a little tea; 6, Mrs. Dodd's, where we have corn-cake and more PARIS BOMBED 137 tea; 7.30, dinner; back to the office, and at 10, while waiting for the Colonel, Mac and I (by way of a ter- rific spree — which it is, on account of the liquid) re- tire to the pantry and eat puffed rice and milk; 12, Mary and I sit down opposite each other and sol- emnly discuss the pressed duck we had at dinner, eating a bit of Dot chocolate the while. You certainly would be disgusted at us. The feeling comes in waves, and for me this present wave reached its height yesterday in a birthday tea in S.'s office — he himself absent in the hospital, but his secretary and three junior liaison officers present. I had three birth- day parties, the best of them being night before last when I took George J. out to dinner and then we went home and joined Mary in front of our open fire, where we had coffee and then cakes and strawberry cordial contributed by George. I never saw George looking so well and strong. He is an honorary chas- seur and wears the dark-blue b6ret and also a Croix de Guerre fouragere, his section being the only one that can. My poor Father, I want to break it to you gently that I shall never do the glorious deeds you would like me to. I shall be fond of my family and friends and try to make life pleasant for them, but as to re- forming or even informing the world, I'm afraid I have n't it in me. And it is true here and now, too ; if any one says to me in years to come, "What did you do in the Great War?" I shall say, ''I fed Kenneth Gaston when he was losing weight " — and let it go at that. I know I 'm an awful disappointment to you, 138 ON DUTY AND OFF but it can't be helped. I really can't come back and rehabilitate France. . . . This is Sunday morning and I am on call in the office, but as you see I have not an enormous amount to do. I did, however, take notes on a conference be- tween three of our men and three Frenchmen. The French certainly look well-set-up in their black uni- forms with gold braid and gold buttons and a broad red strip down the trouser leg, and soft laced boots to the knee. The Champs Elys6es at night is fascinating, for all the street lights are green and the bicycles, tip-carts and so forth carry red Jap lanterns; the ordinary taxi lights look almost orange. February 25 I started out this morning feeling very down on my luck, walked over to the river, and the whole world changed like a flash. This is another of the ex- quisite, radiant days we had a month ago — the first since then — and gives me the same thrill. On a day like this I could joyfully stay in Paris forever. I am now out on the balcony in the glorious sun, and if you were all with me I should be perfectly happy. Don't delude yourself into thinking I am doing any administrative work. I am doing just straight stenog- raphy. Anyhow, it's a glorious day. I walked down low by the river and watched them screening the yellow sand and building concrete boats, and saw the barges going by getting their decks washed off by the barge- PARIS BOMBED 139 men. Eiffel Tower just visible on the left bank and the turrets of the Trocadero on the right. February 26 I have just finished a lovely birthday party in al- most every room of the cinquieme etage, with that delicious, galumptious chocolate cake ! First the Colo- nel got a couple of pieces which he ate in the hall on his way down to see the General ; then the other two girls and a stray visitor in my room; then down to S.'s room, where he and two secretaries and a very nice Mr. Baldwin, whom I call Grandfather because he is almost as old as I, and Mr. Gouverneur Pauld- ing, a Brookline boy, who said it was just like going to a coming-out tea in Boston, and Mr. Morton, a Florentine American of twenty-one years, S., and I had lots with our tea; then down the hall to where Sylvia is — she has never been to America, but knows so much about Boston that when I said the cake was n't home-made she said at once, ** Union, I sup- pose, then" — and Mr. Guillaume, a very nice Swiss interpreter; then Pirie and a Miss Faive and Kathryn D. from the file room, and finally Mary, who had her piece and also licked all the frosting off the paper. So you see it did a good job. Every one who did n't come from Boston said they had never tasted a cake so good, and those who did ate it with a sentimental ex- pression quite up to standard. It really is in an en- tirely different class from any cake you can possibly get here anywhere, at any price. Thank you very much. 140 ON DUTY AND OFF March i How humorous and pleasant to think of Jamie as a lieutenant with a mustache ! The instant he gets his uniform he must se f aire photographic for my benefit. Last night Pirie came to supper and we had a pleasant evening in front of the fire, discussing their plans for the future and her past experiences. I like her thoroughly: she is very sweet and fine and de- voted heart and soul to Kenneth. Here is another ''Day with the American Army" — it was yesterday: 8.50, met the Colonel going out as I came in — on his way to Versailles and Chartres for the day; 9-9.20, copied two telegrams; 9.20, set- tled myself in the Colonel's office, wrote a couple of letters, and read *'A Student at Arms*' that J. gave me at Christmas — I found it immensely interesting; 1. 1 5, Michel came and we had a long lunch together — he is going back to 'TAmericain" for an "opera- tion quelconque" on his leg; 245, settled myself again in the Colonel's room and finished **A Student at Arms." Commander S. and Commander G. came in, and while they were waiting for the Colonel the former told various amusing stories about the begin- ning of the war, — told them very well, in his weird English accent. I then had tea with Sylvia and others — a real feast this time, for her chief came into the pantry and presented us with a box of chocolates. Came back and read a bit more. About six Major B. came in to wait for the Colonel, and from then on till half-past seven he recounted the story of his life, and that is always interesting. Went home to dinner; PARIS BOMBED 141 telephoned to the office at nine and at ten to see if the Colonel had come back and wanted me — he hadn't. Bed; end. Oh, it's an arduous life. I will say, however, that a day or two later I worked from ten at night to one in the morning. My grapenuts come regularly and give me a deli- cious breakfast instead of a horrid one — especially now when restaurants, pensions, etc., are not allowed to serve butter. 191 Rue de V University March 4 What will you say when you hear we are moving again? Mary felt, and I have no doubt rightly, that it was very stupid of us to be living in a pension that was practically a hotel for Americans. This is a place where Dorothea and her mother and the Cottons have stayed at various times, and was also recom- mended to Mary by her friend the Marquise de Viv- ier at Bordeaux. There are quite a lot of people living here, men and women, all French except Miss Eloise Derby, and as it is supposed to be an ultra-select place we may make some entertaining acquaintances. We have two nice little rooms, in the least attractive of which we are going to sleep and keep the other for a sitting-room ; they are prettily furnished, with chintz coverings instead of plush. Yesterday, Sunday, we had a most excellent day. We took the train to Meudon-Val-Fleury and then walked up a little village street into the woods. It was misting slightly and had snowed about two inches; 142 ON DUTY AND OFF everything was slush and mud, but the woods were lovely. We left the road and went straight uphill to a little promontory where you could sit on a slush- covered rock and look off over a wooded valley and little hills. The trees were all laden with snow, and the sky was rather a lovely yellowish color round the horizon. Coming down into the valley again we found a darling little dark-gray pond. Then we proceeded through the woods until we met a little encampment of soldiers and decided we had better go in the op- posite direction, which we did, followed by shouts and hoots, until we got round a corner, when we ran just as hard as we possibly could, do^vnhill, slipping and falling. Of course they did n't follow us, and I still believe we should have gone calmly on our way; however. Thence we went back to a village and I went into a hospital and paid a short call on two anciens bless6s. We wandered round and finally mounted high on the hill again, this time on an enor- mously high- walled terrasse, falling off at one end to a beautiful formal garden over which you looked to distant wooded hills — chateau at the right, dating back some way and then demolished and rebuilt by Louis XIV; now used as an observatory and wireless station. All round the chateau were great bushes of something like rhododendrons, only with bigger, shiny leaves — very beautiful. Lots of other flower- ing bushes and a magnificent old cedar, reminding me of a certain spot in the Ruffoli garden at Ravello. And I do wish you were here to-day to bask in the sunshine! It is a perfect summer day. At lunch-time PARIS BOMBED 143 Mary and I each took a slab of cheese and a little bag of figs and walked down along the river to the Quai aux Fleurs, near Notre Dame — it really is too en- chanting : the whole sidewalk for about a block is laid out just like a flower garden — solid flowers and little new plants of every sort ; about every fifteen feet the gardens are separated by a clump of trees, shrubs, vines, etc., their roots very inadequately packed in burlaps. I made up a lovely box to put on the balcony outside the office — right by my desk, almost : two or three yellow primrose plants, a whitish one, a dark crimson one, two violet plants, two purple and one cherry- colored Roman anemone, and two English daisies with flowers an inch and a half across. My arms are so tired from carrying it even a few blocks from the car that I can hardly write. March 8 (Eveningj at the office.) It's a funny thing about being afraid of raids — theoretically I am, but practically I'm not. There's one going on at this moment. I have been out on the balcony for the last hour with half a dozen youths. Quite near the beginning I actually saw a bomb — it was right down the street, apparently, though doubt- less a good way off, and it looked like a small sun on a foggy day — a round orange ball. The others I heard and saw the flare from, but nothing more. After about an hour it all quieted down, but now the bombs seem to be dropping thick and fast. We are in an inner room, where on sufferance we can have a light, and I 144 ON DUTY AND OFF am theoretically taking dictation from the Colonel. Mac has just gone out to see if there *s anything worth looking at from the balcony — there is n*t. There is no doubt about it, Mary takes a more in- telligent interest in the war than I do — so I ought to learn something. She knows a good deal of French history, too, and I think under her influence I may read ''A Tale of Two Cities" and either Carlyle's or Belloc's " French Revolution" — probably the latter. They do keep this raid up in the most tedious way. It is now two and a half hours or more since they started. The alerte sounded just after I had started to come over here. I am glad I continued to come, for apart from the fact that I was due to work it is much more social here than alone in the boarding-house — Mary being out. Raid called off just three hours after it began. Sunday y March lo Yesterday was the most glorious, golden day imag- inable — a baking sun — the kind of day when you simply must lie on the grass, so we did. Mary had to work in the morning, and I unpacked and then went to church. We met after lunch and took a car out to Malmaison — which she insisted on our going through. Then we went up through the Fondation Cognac, an ex-convent — not so **ex" but what there was a nun walking up and down the walled alley. We cared nought for her, however, but climbed the wall and dropped down the other side into a ploughed field on top of a hill from which you could see every- PARIS BOMBED 145 thing in the world bathed in sunlight. There were various other grassy hills, very steep, with deep little valleys between them, with strips of ploughed field in rays down the hillside, alternating with rays of apple trees — the very tops of the hills wooded. We lay on a bank in the sun for some time, then spotted the Eiffel Tower afar and decided to make for it in a bee- line, and you have no idea how well that plan suc- ceeded. For almost an hour it led us across hilltop pastures between apple, pear, and peach orchards, and vegetable gardens with currant and gooseberry bushes. A little later in the season it will be truly ravissant. We are going to take C. Morse out there for a picnic next Sunday. Of course we got in late and had to take cars and taxis to reach the Eiffel Tower and eat our supper in a cab, in order to get to the theatre in time. The show was "M. Alphonse," by A. Dumas, and was exceedingly well acted. I had read it beforehand, so I could understand as well as if it were in English. We certainly have fallen on our feet this time in the way of a living place. There are about twenty-five people of every age from four to seventy, lots of old ladies — all of them countesses and marquises — men and girls and one or two. young boys. They all talk very vivaciously at dinner-time and know each other very well, most of them having lived there a year or so. Several of them are refugies of Belgium, Soissons, etc. I talked with one little Belgian count- ess, and the first thing she wanted to know was whether I had ever read ''Four Days," by Hetty 146 ON DUTY AND OFF Hemenway ! So I showed her the picture of Hope and the children and that was very exciting. Well, the next thing she wanted to know was if I had ever read the ''Wild Olive" — and that, you know, is all in the region of Westport and Giant. So I told her that. Was n't that curious? I think it will be good fun hearing them all talk. The food is simply delicious and passed round in big dishes as many times as you like — and unlimited sweet cider. The only real flaw so far discovered is that the water runs out of the tub so slowly as to make it almost impossible for two peo- ple to take a bath the same day. I am getting awfully tired of these air raids! If I work late twice a week and amuse myself twice a week and have raids all the other nights I shall never get any sleep. C. Morse seems to be our allotted com- panion for such occasions — the last raid he was with Mary and they sat for hours on the subway platform with their legs dangling over the edge, and this time he had just come to call when the alerte came. We sat in our "salon" for an hour or more and made cocoa, and then when two bombs were dropped that really sounded as if they were in our street (they were n't), we went down to the cave where many of the others were. They say, however, that the second floor, where we are, is the very best place, for a bomb striking the top of the house does not usually get as low as that, and a bomb going off in the court or street doesn't go as high. Mary thinks under a bridge would be good, but I don't know that it would be worth while to get pneumonia. It certainly PARIS BOMBED 147 gives you a queer feeling to sit conversing in front of the fire awaiting your own special bomb. I sup- pose we shall do the same to-night — botheration take them! March 14 Went out to the hospital and stopped a minute to see a blesse I had not seen since October, and the change was marvellous. His lower jaw had been shot through from side to side, with loss of bony sub- stance, so that he had to wear a rubber bandage to hold the jaw up, was on the softest of soft food and could hardly make himself understood. One at a time they have grafted both sides, and now he talks perfectly clearly, and yesterday began to eat all kinds of food just like any one else. He is n't remarkably good-looking, as the two grafted places stick out more or less and give him a squirrel-like look, but he is n't in the slightest degree unpleasant-looking and will look much better some time, I have no doubt. The surgeon considers him a very interesting case and shows him off to all visiting doctors. I believe a groove was cut both sides of the fracture and an inset of bone slipped in, the bit of bone being taken from his leg. He, naturally^ is as pleased as punch and has been so happy at the hospital that he is in no hurry to be evacuated. I am sitting in front of the most aesthetic arrange- ment of flowers you ever sighed over — a brown jug with two nice little rudimentary handles — filled with Roman anemones in all kinds of purples and 148 ON DUTY AND OFF purply pinks, and then freesia, cream just tinted with mauve, as if they were reflecting the others — the whole (by chance) against a coffee-colored pongee background. Really about a perfect color scheme to my way of thinking. I have n't mentioned green, but there is plenty in the freesia leaves and buds. Speak- ing of flowers, coming through the Champs Elysees to-day I found a great bed of rhododendrons in full blossom — clear light rose-color. Does n't that seem incredible on March 14th? Colonel G. has pneumonia at G.H.Q. We sent him some flowers the other day and Colonel D. wrote a verse to go with them, on the way up and down stairs from one conference to another. Colonel D. is a great worker, but never allows himself to get intense or worried, not even to-day when for two eternally long minutes we thought all the papers on our air pro- gramme for the next three months had been removed from his desk by alien hands. March 20 I don't know whether I have mentioned Jean de Marguenat, a count, an ex-aviateur and our chauf- feur. We see a good deal of him because he waits up in our room. He is twenty-one, tall, and very good- looking, with the most absurdly expressive face that ever was. He is so different from an American boy of that age in the way he registers emotion. The other day he came in, in the depths of gloom, flung him- self into a chair and pulled out a paper for us to see which proved to be his orders to start that very PARIS BOMBED 149 night to report to his air d6p6t at Lyons. He was really tragic about it, and stamped up and down the room with clenched fists, muttering about the ways of the Army. Half an hour later the Colonel came out and went with him to the Ministere de la Guerre, got it fixed up in ten minutes, and came back — the child all beaming smiles, shaking every one's hand and pos- itively jumping over the chairs in excitement. Oh, these French ! I don't know where my recital of facts stopped. Sunday Mary and C. Morse and I went out and lunched on the grassy pasture hilltop over Malmai- son. After lunch I strolled partway down the hill to call on Michel who was back in bed again. I went sneakered and hatless, which made me feel very much at home. I wandered into the empty hospital and peeked round till I found Michel, who was pleased and surprised to see me. I had a very nice call on him. A Sister came in, all in black with veil, etc., and her skirt tucked up, carrying a mop and scrub- bing-pail — it seemed such a quaint costume for the housemaid. March 25 You are just having your worst weather now, I imagine, and here we are having cloudless days al- most as warm as summer. The "Dambosch" seem to find them perfect days, too, for the following has been our schedule: Friday (March 22), alerte at nine in the evening — call-off at about ten and nothing doing. Saturday, alerte at nine in the morning — no bombs, 150 ON DUTY AND OFF but a coup de canon about every twenty minutes, which proved to be (as you will have read) the great 240 cannon firing from over seventy miles away and dropping shells as neatly as you could wish. This kept up till six (making it very inconvenient, as they stopped the Metro trams, etc. I almost missed my train). At nine came another air raid alerte, but it amounted to nothing and was called off at ten. The next morning at seven the cannon began again and continued till about three. An air raid was sounded at one o'clock at night (the French putting up a barrage, so it sounded as if it were going to amount to something) and called off about two. This morn- ing the cannon started at quarter of seven, but only fired four times — I don't know why. The Germans certainly are smarter than we — they always do it first. But the raid did not prevent the river in full moon- light from being very lovely, as witnessed by Mary and C. Morse and me from under the Pont de I'Alma; the arches are so lovely. We sat on one steamer rug and under another, leaning comfortably against a rail of some sort and eating Page and Shaw. Nor did the cannonading prevent Fontainebleau from being about perfect. I took a noon train (having made up my mind to lose it when I found the Metro stopped, but finally- getting a taxi), reached Fontainebleau about two — a heavenly, warm, sunny day. I left my bag and coat at the hotel and wandered down through the old part of the town, among the darling little moss-grown cottages and garden walls — past a PARIS BOMBED 151 wash-house where apparently all the wash of the town was being done in a small swimming-tank of cold water — across some fields and up into the woods. I looked in vain for wild jonquils and English primroses, such as I had seen in masses through the woods from the train window. But I did find violets and anemones, and a wonderful old woman sitting on a bank at a crossing of wood paths, knitting a white stocking and watching her goat, which she assured me was very, very young and yet was to have a goatlet in two weeks and had therefore to be watched care- fully. So she spends all day in the woods, knitting and chatting with every one who passes. Yesterday a wild pig, bigger than her goat, came rushing past. She had brought the goat up since it was six days old and was as fond of it as a baby. I lay down beside her and she talked a steady stream for half an hour. It was so quiet and delicious! There is nothing to beat a baking spring sun. Then I went over to Kenneth's caserne and met him as he came out of class. My, it was good to see the child again! We climbed a sharp little hill to a cliff which looked down on the long, narrow field, where they learn to shoot. Some class was practising barrage fire and we could see the flash, flash, flash, flash, flash — about as fast as that — then the five bangs and way down at the other end of the field five little puffs of white smoke in a row, where the shells land. It was an interesting sight, but I did n*t like it a bit. It was the reallest thing I have heard or seen yet — it kept on so steadily and was so horribly precise. 152 ON DUTY AND OFF So then we came down the hill and through the woods and the Chateau Pare and found a little res- taurant for supper, where we were the only people. Kenneth had to leave at nine to get back to the bar- racks, and I took a car home and went early to bed. The air was so good — so different from Paris ! My room opened on to a grassy court with trees sur- rounded by an old wall, all moss-grown, and just the other side of that was the Forest, so it was real coun- try all right. Kenneth appeared the next morning and we had a delicious breakfast in a far, sunny corner of the garden, and then went down to meet Pirie and sup- posedly Mary and C. M. — neither of whom ap- peared, however, — Mary, because the Metro was stopped and he presumably because he was on duty. So I had a morning alone in the Forest. I do enjoy wandering round by myself, going hither and yon, stopping or proceeding at my own sweet will! I saw a ledge with big pine trees on it, rather like William James* Ledges, and made for that. It was all it should have been: sunny and sweet-smelling, the ground all soft with thick moss and heather, and a lovely view off over tree-tops of soft pinky- browns and greens, with blue hills farther. Later I went through some beautiful open beech and holly woods, rather like Canaumet, only somewhat bigger trees and more cleared out ; then through some dull (except for anemones as far as you could see) flat woods, and down to the river to a little restaurant where I met Pirie and K. and Hayden Goodspeed (Harvard *i6, PARIS BOMBED 153 A. A., Aviation and Artillery School) for lunch. It was about the prettiest place I have ever been to — a little inn, with barns and gardens, all of plaster and moss-grown, an airy kitchen with old oak tables with carved legs, and a little terrace at the back, flush with the grass and only about ten feet from the river ; across the river a great green field and square white 'farmhouse and woods behind. I never saw a prettier scene; and here we sat and ate fried fishlets right from the river and lapins saut6s, which is the French Sunday roast beef, and the sun shone and the barges went up and down the river. It was utterly tranquil. After lunch Hayden and I left the lovers and took quite a long walk through the Forest — along some ridges that were for all the world like the long top of Colvin ; got many wonderful views over wooded val- leys, and enjoyed ourselves immensely. When I got back to the hotel about six, I found Mary had come on the later train, arriving at one! So she was alone all the afternoon. Was n*t that a shame? She got so mad with the Huns for firing on Paris and with the Parisians for paying any attention to them that she made up her mind to come down anyway. One funny thing she did was to make friends with a little boy at the Chateau whose mother let her in to the oldest part of the Chateau, which is being used as a neuro- logical hospital, and she knew all about Father! Mary is going to introduce me next time. She discovered a beautiful white bathtub at my hotel and has decided, therefore, to spend many Sundays there. Do you know, on the strength of our "Workers' Permits" 154 ON DUTY AND OFF saying that we are attached to the A.E.F., we get quarter rates on trains! I went down and back, sec- ond-class, for two and a half francs, an hour and a half each way. March 28 On Monday next I start working in Dana's office. He is in charge of that part of the Liaison Bureau which conducts the passage of all Air Service affairs concerning the French Government, which are, of course, legion. It is finally as settled as anything is in the Army that our part of the Air Service will stay in Paris. Colonel D. is CO. of the Paris Branch — the part of Supply that is here, the orders from the French, etc., as well as the Technical Section which, however, has a rather secondary place now. The de- livery of planes is the chief thing now. This means, primarily, deciding what planes we want, working out terrifically detailed lists of spare parts, equip- ment, armament, etc., ordering the squadrons and planes. ... As there are a thousand difficulties at each step it is some job. ... I can't tell you how glad I am' for my own sake that you are not here during raids ; it is very quieting not to have a single person to worry about. Of course there will be people at the front later. ... As for raids, statistically there is more chance of being run over than hit by a bomb. March 29 No special news, except that the news from the front is better. We hope the Germans will break PARIS BOMBED 155 themselves in this offensive. American Red Cross MiHtary Hospital No. i is filling rapidly. April 8 I 'm afraid I have n*t written for over a week. I have gone into Lieutenant Skinner's office and no longer have time to write in office hours. I certainly do enjoy being back again with R. D. S. He is in charge of liaison with the French, as I doubtless told you. I sit in his office and there are two more liaison offices opening out of it. Major Gros is the head; then there is Mr. Baldwin for Italian and Mr. Morton for French (under Dana), and at present that's all — work with the English going through Flight Com- mander Sassoon. Yesterday was Sunday, and Mary, C. Morse, and I went out of town on the trolley, and up on to a high orcharded hill from which you looked off across won- derful blue distances way below or at near-by hills and orchards covered with blossoming plum and occa- sionally a row of pink, pink peach. All shades of green in the world were there, too — just little hints of them ; mostly it was blue and white and pink. It was a beautiful northwest day, clouds racing over and bright sun, except for a couple of smart showers which struck us a,s we lay on our backs after lunch. Saturday night C. Morse came in here just back from Noyon and all round there — Blerancourt, es- pecially — where he had been evacuating people and things. He certainly was feeling low about the ad- vance. He said how wonderful the French were; 156 ON DUTY AND OFF what great staying power they had. He admires them greatly as soldiers. He is going to the Artillery School at Fontainebleau the end of the week. April 12 While I am waiting for the morning meeting to be- gin I can add a few words. Mary and I alternate in '* taking" the meetings, and they are sometimes very amusing. The head or representative of each depart- ment reports what's been doing in the last twenty- four hours ; about sixteen or twenty departments. . . . The cannon has begun again this afternoon, after a rest of nearly a week. An obus came down nearer me than any has yet, though not near enough to see. It was near the Ministere de la Guerre — at least I was and it must have been. It sounds quite different from a bomb, which is like a roll of thunder when you think the tree just outside your window has been struck — that sort of tearing noise. The obus sounds as if a huge drum had burst: quite a short, almost musical sound. • April 1$ This attack seems to have been the final word to show every one how fine a soldier the Frenchman makes. I have heard so many people remark on it. The last was Bob Boiling, who is jiist back from a few days near the front. He said the French were all so perfectly calm and alert, so well-set-up and so clean in effect even when they had just come from the trenches. PARIS BOMBED 157 Last night we had a raid — the first for some time. Mary and I started for under the Pont de TAlma, but heard men's voices and beat a quick retreat, though they afterwards turned out to be Americans, who gave us (we joined other Americans on the bridge) some good close-harmony later. The raid was very short — three quarters of an hour or less — but the two or three bombs that were dropped did lots of harm. Paris is so huge that with all the bombs and shells that have come to us in the last month I have never been anywhere near one — not nearer than a seven or eight minutes' walk. There was a terrible picture in the paper to-day of a ward in a maternity hospital before and after a shell fell there a couple of days ago — horribly effective. , ; To-morrow is Sunday again, and Mary and I are going to try to reach the battle-field of the Mame. It has been in the Zone des Armees since last July and you are supposed to have a carnet rouge and a sauf conduit before you can get a ticket. But we are going to make a bluff at it and see if we get by. I have learned why one says, "He lies like a trooper." In the Army, as far as rules and that sort of stuff goes, you do what you want and say what you want, and if you get by it 's a glowing success and every one says what a fine, snappy person you are; if you don't get by, you are court-martialled. April 21 Oh, I have worked so hard this past week! I love doing it, but it is so long since I have that I am 158 ON DUTY AND OFF right tired. I went to take Doris's place one after- noon, when she did n't feel well, and came back that evening at ten and took dictation from the Colonel till quarter-past one. Then, of course, I had all those notes in addition to my regular work to finish up in the next couple of days. I can't describe to you how horrible the old siren is that sounds the alerte for raids. You hear it first in the distance — just an ordinary siren whistle; you sit up in bed (mentally, at least) and curse the Germans for breaking your sleep, and then perhaps (as we did last night) decide to stay in bed. The guns begin banging, but that is all right. One could go to sleep again with the guns and bombs banging, but not with the siren. As I said, you hear one first — it gets nearer and nearer and more and more frantic; and other sirens come nearer and nearer from other direc- tions, all whistling in slightly different keys, shriek- ing and howling and wailing, till it is 'like being sur- rounded .by a nightmare mob of banshees. (You know how the dear old banshees sound !) The whistles echo in the narrow streets of our quarter and get louder and more intense till it seems as if the world would burst with the sound. It is a queer thing — I still claim that I don't feel afraid, and yet if I am in bed and the siren comes, every tiniest muscle in my legs twitches. Mary goes to sleep far quicker than I under it, and yet she says she feels afraid. How do you ex- plain that? Am I really afraid and don't like to say so? I don't think so. PARIS BOMBED 159 April 29 I am longing for the time when the rest of you come abroad with me and I can show you all the spots I like best. We had about a perfect day yesterday with Q Morse at Fontainebleau. I left Paris on the eight o'clock train and was met down there by the other two. We walked almost steadily from about two till five, eating lunch on a cliff with a beautiful extended view — forest near at hand and then the fields and farmhouses on the other side of the Seine. It is the most perfect season, for every tree is its own individ- ual green — the oaks just barely pinkish, and the pines looking almost black by comparison with the exquisite pale green of the birches. Lots of beeches, too, half out — they grow in such a decorative form with their delicious, fuzzy edges. I picked lots and lots of purple Roman anemones, not quite like the ones in a florist's, more delicate, and they also have a silky fuzz when they are not full- blown. And those giant forget-me-nots that grow in the garden at Cotuit. . . . And tiny yellow primroses, more of the Chinese than the English variety. We had supper at the little restaurant on the river. When we spend the day in Fontainebleau we don't get home till ten, so you might think it was a long day ; but it is lovely enough and tranquil enough in the forest to make up for it. And I have about decided it 's all buncombe not to do things because they are tir- ing, or because you are tired. I don't think I ever told you how long hours I have sometimes worked. i6o ON DUTY AND OFF Once, for instance, till half-past two, beginning at half-past seven next morning; and quite often till twelve or one — several times later — and I have had no vacation, have done things in the evening quite a lot, and crowded Sundays about as full as I could, and I don't see that I am any the worse — ex- cept that I have gained weight. I am no more tired than I was when I worked half a day at Radcliffe. I have had a good many colds, but nothing bad enough to go to bed with. So there you are. I shall never let you tell me I am too tired to do something again. If I am tired I will go to the theatre in the evening; it*s the way, I think. I gave you a little dissertation, I think, on the bien €\ev6e French girl, and I will now add one further thought : in America, the better the family you come from, and the better educated and bred you are, the more unconventional things you can get away with; here, the higher class you are the more you are hemmed and bound in by rules that it would be tragic to break. Just little rules of convention, I mean. A week ago Sunday we went to Meaux and drove for hours over beautiful bare hills with the coldest wind you ever felt, making ninety miles an hour. It was a shame it was so cold, for the country was most lovely if one could have relaxed sufficiently to see it ; but you had to jam your head down into your collar and keep it there, to avoid dying of cold. I think I was never more chilled to the bone and the train was almost as cold coming home. But I was glad we went PARIS BOMBED 161 and saw the dear little old-fashioned trenches they had there — about a foot and a half wide, neatly lined with willow basketry. The only time we were warm was when we were in the trenches! We drove through three or four little villages that had been shelled, though not badly, relatively speaking. Why the Germans ever turned back I can't imagine. (I neglected to state that this was the Marne battle- field — or at least a battle-field on the Marne, at the nearest point the Germans came to Paris. They call it the Battle of the Ourcq, or something like that.) It was beautiful country for a battle: miles and miles of rolling fields. But a miracle must have happened. I don't wonder that after that the French were con- vinced that we would win sometime. What fun it will be to have a picture of Jamie en militaire — and think of his returning salutes up and down the street! I hope he puts on lots of side and does it with real fervor. The dramatic side of uniforms and ceremony is the only advantage of them. Well, it seems as if Pirie and Kenneth were really going to get married May i8th; that is, they will if Kenneth gets the day off following his graduation and is not sent at once to the front. That is a Satur- day and they will not know till Monday of that week whether or not he can get to Paris ! If not, they will have to wait till he gets his first permission from the front. I do hope they won't have to, for he might never get it. He will be on the seventy-fives, and that is no joke, though, of course, not as bad as infantry. If he does get the day off, Pirie and her mother and i62 ON DUTY AND OFF sister-in-law, and Kenneth and Lippy and I will go first to the Mairie and have them really married, then to the American church. And that will be all! Not a very gay wedding, but neither of them cares a straw, so I don't know that it matters. They were planning to have more of a festivity, but decided to give it up. May I You know the people in this house have been so nice to Mary these two days she has been in the house. It about decided me to stay there next winter, if I am still here, instead of going to a hotel as I thought of doing on account of there being no chauf- f age central in the house. Not that I should plan to be sick, you know, but it would make all the difference if I were. Mademoiselle Guilhon is just as nice, at- tractive, and agreeable as she can be, with an excel- lently kept house and a care-free, happy-go-lucky at- titude toward it. Never seems to worry, though her population changes almost daily and she works hard outside at an oeuvre. Another of the boarders is simply delightful. She is a Madame de Noblemaire — about my age, I should say. The first couple of years of the war she nursed in Serbia and had the time of her life — the first time, I guess, that she had led a really free, independent life. She is one quarter English, and it shows very markedly in her attitude. She was brought up, I think, in India. Her spoken English is fluent but not very correct, and she has certain phrases which come out very amusingly: for instance, " Don't PARIS BOMBED 163 you think that was horrid?" She recounted to us one evening many tales of her brother, an aviator of the R.F.C., who was captured by the Germans in No- vember, 1914, and was prisoner two years; trying unsuccessfully to escape once, being caught after many hours of flight through the snow, then going back to solitary confinement in a perfectly dark cell and almost no food ; finally really escaping in a pack- ing-case on a freight train in which he sat almost without moving, all bent over double, for three days and nights, and was finally unloaded in Switzerland. All this and more she told us, and after a particularly terrible detail she would say, "Don't you think that was horrid?" She also showed us pictures of Serbia and told us, with longing tones, about the difliculties of the work there — how there was no water to give the men even to drink, or how on other occasions the roof leaked so that a rainstorm would soak the patients to the skin ; how they had no conveniences; how she lived in a tent in the midst of this camp of men ; how good they all were to her. And this discourse she interlarded with ''Was n't it a lovely life?" She really is A No. i and I can't wait to get her to America. She has loads of spirit and snap and sense of humor. The other evening she was in bed with all the windows shut and confessed that she always slept so; then she burst into peals of laughter and said, "And all the afternoon I write how one must always sleep with the windows open." She is writing for the Red Cross, educational pamphlets for refugies. i64 ON DUTY AND OFF May 2 To-day I have been with Mr. Diman to see a deco- ration at the Grand Palais. It was not moving in the same way that the decoration I saw at the Ambulance was, but it was very beautiful. It was in a great hall like the Boston Arena — only very light because of the glass roof. We were up in the gallery leaning over the rail. All the men to be decorated were in a group near the door at one side; opposite them the band (who, it turns out, are also soldiers and stretcher- bearers) ; the two long sides and farther end lined with a double row of French Territorials. Exactly at the hour the General entered and the band played the "Marseillaise"; then he walked all round the double row of Territorials, saluting each company; the men to be decorated marched into the middle of the square — most of them wounded, of course, many of them on crutches, followed by a man carrying a chair. Before each group was decorated the General shouted an order to the band, who gave a bugle call with drums. First came the officers of the Legion of Honor, then chevaliers of the Legion, M^dailles Mili- taires, and Croix de Guerre. It was awfully well done — a good deal of ceremony and yet extremely simple: the band playing off and on at exactly the right times when it might otherwise have become a little monotonous. This is the first sunny day for weeks and weeks. The weather has favored Paris during this last full- moon period. Colonel D. is now Chief of Supply here in France; PARIS BOMBED i6_f big job, similar to Ryan's in the States, only compli- cated by the fact that everything is done through the Allies. A captain whom I do not know is Assistant to Chief of Supply and R. D. S. I believe is to be his assistant ; but of that I will write you more when it is really going. Poor Pirie and Kenneth have met another reverse, this time in the crazy French law which makes it necessary all through a woman^s life that she shall have the consent of both parents, even when, as in this case she does not live with her father and is not supported by him. May 7 The father gave his consent, so that's all right. Now it only remains to be seen whether K. can get the day off. Pirie has had such a nice letter from Mrs. G. I have been having the most wickedly joyful hour or two! Mary has gone away for a week and I have rearranged all the furniture. To-morrow I shall get a new table-cover! The desk and light are now so re- lated to each other that one can write a letter in the evening, and as we are almost never here in the day- time, that seems to me a decided advantage. And al- though the room is still too long and narrow, it is not as bad as it was. She will probably hate it and in that case will, of course, change it back again. Unless something unexpected occurs you may ex- pect me home before Christmas. Yesterday Mr. Diman and I went up on Mont- i66 ON DUTY AND OFF martre for supper. We planned it the day before, when the weather was exquisite, and of course it clouded over. However, it was quite lovely and good fun. We tried to sup at the Lapin Agile, which has considerable local color, but you have to command your dinner in advance. There is an old man there dressed in brown velveteen with scarlet, Byronesque necktie and white, flowing beard, who exhibited the grand salon to us, and as there was a guitar on the table I seized upon it and we sang ** Santa Lucia" in duet. Then he sang another Italian song to me, with absolutely killing glances from most beautiful brown eyes. Mary had a thrilling adventure yesterday. She found a little boy of thirteen crying bitterly on the bridge, and it turned out that he was a refugi6 from near Noyon, that he had lost his mother and sister en route, and for four days had eaten nothing but four sous* worth of bread and had slept in empty boats along the river. The various French people to whom he had told his story said, "Pauvre petit," and left it there; but Mary, being of a different type, took him to the Red Cross and thence to their refugee hotel, with a regular feed thrown in. He apparently declared himself her slave for life. She had to go off, but has instructed me to get him a book to read. Was n't that an adventure? May 12 I believe Mother is just sentimental enough to like a "Mother's Letter"! It is certainly the jayest idea. PARIS BOMBED 167 If I were in the Y.M.C.A. and had to urge boys to write a "Mother's Letter" I should die of shame. And I went to tea at the Janets* and found two en- listed men who had got her name (as being at home) from the Y.M.C.A. and had actually come because it was Mother's Day and they thought most likely Ma- dame Janet was a mother! People accuse me of being sentimental, but I am nothing to these enlisted men. The Janets are awfully hospitable. The son has just started his military training, which lasts two months; then he goes to the front as a canonnier for five months and returns to Fontainebleau for the artillery course. Madame Lauth's son is doing the same. Mary has come back from her country week in blooming state. At last, on Saturday, Kenneth got permission for the whole day the following Saturday. So all was se- rene, all other arrangements having been made. But when the boys got to the train to come to Paris this week they were told that all permissions had been stopped ! Divided opinion as to whether it is an epi- demic of mumps or a fresh offensive. Of course, they don't know whether the permission he had obtained for next Saturday will hold, or not. Is n't it trying? May 16 Last night we had a raid, the first in ages. We were dining with the Dells and were just about to come home when the siren sounded. Mary cleverly found a taxi (who refused to take us, but Mary said we'd go as far as he went, and he finally took us all the way), i68 ON DUTY AND OFF and then at home we found an American and went out on the bridge with him. It really is a pretty sight, you know: the beautiful night and the flashes of shrapnel. At one juncture we thought we heard three bombs drop, successively nearer, so we ran just as fast as we could in the opposite direction. Of course, it turns out this morning that the Gothas did n't get over Paris at all. There was another alerte at two in the morning, but we did n't wake up. May 20 After more little difficulties in the way of papers and permissions than an American would believe pos- sible, Kenneth and Pirie are really married. Pirie has kept her serenity wonderfully, to my mind, for there has been enough to give her nervous prostra- tion. Then Kenneth did not know — did not even think he knew — that he could have the one day's permission until the Monday of the very week; and no sooner did he think he knew than permissions were all revoked and again he was in absolute uncer- tainty. Two days before the wedding Pirie received a letter from the lawyer saying she must have her birth certificate renewed, although this had been done six months before. That strikes me as the most futile of all — you are only born once, after all. Pirie and her brother had to walk miles and miles out of Paris to get this certificate fixed up, and they could not have then if the brother had not been a lieutenant who could insist on having the papers at once. But that was finally cleared up. The very day PARIS BOMBED 169 before the wedding Pirie had a letter from Kenneth saying that he did not know whether permissions would be granted again in time, but that come what might he would reach Paris in time to be married ; he had engaged a bicycle, arranged to have a boy sign the sick-list for him, and he was going to run away, even though he knew it would mean a week or two nominally in jail when he got back to school. And he really did have to run away! He just swaggered past the first guard, at the school ; walked and ran through the Forest, hiding behind trees when he saw any one coming, reached the next station below Fontaine- bleau just in time to jump over the gate and make the train ! Pirie met him in Paris. He waited till every one had gone through the gate and then somehow got into the buffet, where they had lunch and then es- caped by the back door! Was not that romantic for this age and day? But poor Kenneth was pretty much all in by the end of Saturday; he had planned and worried so much about it. The wedding day (May 1 8th) was the second fair day after weeks of cold, foggy weather; it was a perfect June day. I got up at five in the morning and went down to the big market to get flowers. It was too de- licious down there, with the rows and rows of flowers of every kind and color — there must be at least half a mile of them. Of course Kenneth and Pirie did not know there were any flowers in the church and I knew they would n't, but it satisfied my sense of the fitness of things, and I loved doing it. If you like a comic sight you should have seen me staggering into 170 ON DUTY AND OFF the Metro, along with all the other market-women, carrying a bundle of flowers about the dimensions of a fat five-year-old child ! I did n't have time to be as particular about arranging the flowers as I should have liked (just for myself, it made no difference to any one else), for we were supposed to be at Pirie's at quarter-past nine, to go with the happy pair, Madame Pire, two brothers and sisters-in-law, infant niece and friend, to the Mairie. **We" means Lippy and me, who represented the American part of the company. Kenneth looked his best, in a new blue aspirant's uniform and French military boots of soft leather, laced right up to the knee. He is so much browner than he was in Paris. Pirie looked prettier than I have ever seen her, in a sky-blue crepe de chine dress which she had made herself during the last week — on nights when the lights did n't have to be put out on account of raids! It was very simple and very becom- ing. She had a very dark-blue hat with a little white ostrich feather in it. She did look darling. We all met, as I said, and went over to the Mairie together. There we were ushered into a room with the most awful stained-glass windows, and rows and rows of crimson cushioned benches. There were about a dozen other marriages being accomplished at the same time, and the assortment of types and of clothes was very funny; there was a beautiful young bride in white satin and orange blossoms, who looked entirely misplaced, and an extraordinary woman of fifty with some kind of white satin basket and enor- mous plume on her head, and many another. We all sat PARIS BOMBED 171 in rows and pretended we loved waiting, but it cer- tainly was not conducive to feeling the solemnity of the occasion. Every few minutes a man would come in from the next room and shout out: **Mariage de Smith et Jones ; les deux f uturs, le pere et mere, et les quatres temoins avangent!" Finally it was "Mariage de Pire et Gaston," and we advanced and signed in two large books and returned to wait our turn with the Mayor, who had in the meantime come into the big room, very resplendent in dress-suit and a broad red, white, and blue ribbon across his shirt-front. It was our turn at last, and we went up inside a little fence, when to our dismay the Mayor got up and marched out. We waited and waited, with a vivid pic- ture in mind of the minister and various guests wait- ing at the church, and finally Pirie's brother got dis- gusted and went out to find out what the trouble was — the Mayor had gone to a funeral ! Then Brother Pire turned round and told all the other waiting fami- lies that it was an outrage against French Liberty and the People and that no free-born man should submit to such treatment, and that if they would take his ad- vice they would none of them put anything into the collection box (which is passed round after each mar- riage). Then the Mayor came back; there was a si- lence, and Brother Pire (a very smart-looking lieu- tenant) stood up and in most eloquent terms told the Mayor exactly what he thought of him. '* Monsieur, n'insistez pas, je vous en prie," thundered the Mayor; but Brother insisted for all he was worth, and three times the Mayor banged on the table and said, 172 ON DUTY AND OFF ** Monsieur, n'insistez pas/* and three times Brother continued his harangue (oddly enough, having all the company behind thoroughly with him, which was so French), until with a bigger bang on the table the Mayor said that never during his mayorship had he been so treated and that he would not marry them at all, and out he stalked. You can imagine poor Ken- neth sitting there, not knowing quite enough French to interfere. After some ten minutes more Brother went out and appeased the Mayor and the marriage was finished — the Mayor and the Brother shaking hands like the best of friends afterwards. It was the most un-American thing you ever saw. When we reached the church the minister re- hearsed them a little and taught Madame Pire to understand, "Who giveth this woman," and we walked up the aisle after Kenneth and Pirie — and they were married. Of course, all war weddings must be very affecting; this was the first I had attended. We signed another book, and the deed was irrevo- cably done. Then we all went down the Champs Elys6es to a very nice little restaurant and had a very good wedding breakfast. Their return to Fontainebleau was perilous — Kenneth was rushed past the guard by this same brother of Pirie*s, and so forth. But I learned in the meantime from another Fontainebleau man that Kenneth stood so very high in the regard of his lieu- tenant that he probably would not be put in jail — and so it proved. PARIS BOMBED 173 May 21 A more discouraged and disappointed daughter you have never had. Yesterday, when I sent you a cable saying I was going to work in a French hospital, I had been told I should be sent to a French hospital near Beauvais, which you can see on the map is very near the front, near Compiegne. As you can imagine, I was perfectly thrilled and on the top of the wave. To-day, when I went to start my passports, they said that they did not want any one in the French hospi- tals, after all, as they had put nurses in, and that they had had an urgent call from Limoges and wanted me to go there. Well, I could have refused, but it seemed too idiotic to do so just because of the place, so I signed up for that; but I am so disap- pointed I could cry. I don't want to be in an Ameri- can hospital, and above all I don't want to be way down there (almost at Bordeaux) when I thought I was going in exactly the opposite direction. I suppose I might now begin back at the beginning and tell you what I am going to do. This is the job of *' searcher" or "home communications." You try to trace missing men by talking to the other men; you act as secretary to wounded men, writing home for them about their affairs ; you write to the families of men who die; and in any spare time you be a "little Sunshine." In a French hospital it would have been great fun ; in an American, I am not a bit sure. How- ever, I am in for it. The way I came to decide to do it was that I decided to come home sometime before Christmas, and it seemed silly not to see anything but 174 ON DUTY AND OFF an office in Paris all the time I was here. But Limoges — Heavens ! That 's where they send French generals who don't succeed with their command. To say a person is Limog6 is to say he has had to be got rid of. On the other hand, it must be more or less interest- ing; can't help it. If they had never mentioned Beau- vais I should n't feel so badly, but that would have been perfect. I wish you would find out about the law that if you have a brother in the Army you can't get a passport. However, I suppose if I once get home I might as well stay and get going on something there. I may say, however, that I am going to have a vacation before I start — a good long one. It will be two years in Sep- tember since I have had more than three days' (except the steamer, which I certainly don't count), and in another week it will be a whole year since I have had more than one day and a half at a time. But now that I am going on that theme, I might as well tell you about the beginning of my trip to Blois, for it goes to show that resting is silly. Friday night I did n't get to bed till one and it takes me an hour to go to sleep. Saturday was Kenneth's wedding in the morning, work in the afternoon, and then I dressed and went to the station, hoping against hope not to be too late for the seven o'clock train for Blois, where Mary al- ready was. Found the train had been shoved ahead an hour and did n't go till eight, was n't due to arrive till eleven, and was always late. All the afternoon I had been so tired that I thought I should burst, and PARIS BOMBED,^ 175 I almost did n*t go, anyway, and when I found (not till after I had vainly tried for a seat in every com- partment in the two great long sections of the train) that the hour was postponed, I almost went home again, for the compartment was second-class, all the other passengers men who were eating sausages and hard-boiled eggs for supper, and I pictured myself arriving at Blois in the pitch blackness with a cross station-master and no possible method of getting to the hotel. But then I said to myself, ** You will never be middle-aged and in Paris again, free to be as much of a fool as you please, with no one to bother about you ; you better go to it." I went to it. The train was hotter than Tophet, but we all managed to sleep most of the way down, and I arrived at half -past eleven feeling almost completely rested ! There were loads of people at the station and I spied at once a very nice- looking sergeant, of whom I inquired the way to the H6tel de France. He asked me if I was travelling as an American, and when I allowed I was he took me through the exit for Americans (Americans here means Army), where I was duly registered, and then he found me such a very nice first lieutenant, medical (who had been for three months near the British front), who escorted me to the H6tel de France. That was my first experience of an Army town, and it was certainly a very agreeable one. But the point is that I felt as rested as possible by the time I got to bed ; so in spite of appearances I would have been more of an idiot to have stayed in Paris than I was to go down. Ten Eyck was the object of the trip — he came 176 ON DUTY AND OFF up from the place he is at — and he really was nice enough to warrant a great deal. One of the very best, Wednesday morning I have just been to see about my costume, and had the second blow — the blue linen dresses, which sound so nice, are absolutely formless, literally, and then tied in by a narrow sash — no fit — just like a full-length smock, only a scanter skirt. However, I think the whole thing will be fun. The R.C. represen- tative there is Mr. Russell Tyson. We came home in 191 1 on the steamer with him. So that will be nice. And a great friend of Ten Eyck^s is there.* It is a Yale unit! They give me a suit, two blouses, two dresses, and hat, and four hundred francs a month on which I am supposed to be able to live; also travelling ex- penses. Going to Dr. Blake's this afternoon to be inoculated. May 22 Had an alerte last night, with some very snappy barrage fire. When the shrapnel began bursting al- most overhead, we took the advice of a couple of French officers (the French really do know when to come in out of the rain) and went under the bridge with fifteen or twenty Americans — they are so nice and polite! It was the most beautiful warm night flooded with moonlight — misty down the end of the river. I shall never forget these moonlight nights under the bridge, with the beautiful curves reflected, PARIS BOMBED 177 and occasional red -and -green lights on boats. No bomb dropped in the city, though every one thought one was, there was such a terrific crash. May 24 It's all right, after all! Or is unless they change again. I am not to be Limogee after all, but am to be in a French hospital. It will be in every way the most thrilling and satisfying climax for my whole trip — to be able to do for our own men and yet be with the French. Nothing could be better. I can't tell you how I feel about it. . . . I am too thrilled to write. I am sitting in an arm- chair waiting for Lieutenant Skinner to dictate, but he is talking on the telephone with Lieutenant Bou- langer, and Mr. Bugatti has just come in with a cable, evidently bringing good news, so I 'm afraid the dic- tation will not come for some time. In the meantime I was hoping to get off at six because Mary and Syl- via and I are going to dine together somewhere. But what's that to me? — I am not for Limoges. You know, lots of men seem to think, still, that the war will be over this fall, and almost every one says that in three months' time we shall know a lot more about the end than we do now. If the offensive fails, — and it will, — the Germans have nothing to look forward to except increasing numbers of Americans. We never get any decent accounts of things here, though I was surprised to learn from Eleanor of the things that you don't know over there. Mary says they were never in the papers here, either. I suppose 178 ON DUTY AND OFF I don't realize how many things are in the air and not on paper. On the other hand, there are various things, n'est-ce pas, that are on paper when they should be in the air. CHAPTER V AFTER CHATEAU THIERRY May 30 Here, contrary to all expectation, I am — still in Paris. I thought I would surely have left for my French hospital by this time, but all passes, for women who are not nurses, for the region of Beauvais have been held up for some time, and goodness knows if I shall ever get off ; we may all be leaving Paris in the opposite direction before that time. That, of course, is one of those over-statements employed as wit by dull minds. I am all shopped and packed and ready to go on a moment*s notice. In the meantime the German offensive is the only thing in the world, set off by the long-range gun, though that held off to-day at half-past six for twelve hours at Papal request, because it is Corpus Christi Day. But it banged a couple of times very early and is going every twenty minutes now, tant pis. To-morrow I am beginning at eight in the morning at the Ambulance — having overheard Mrs. Vander- bilt say she could barely get in to the Memorial Day service because she was so hard at work making beds. So I have unpacked my uniform and had my caps starched and shall leave the house at seven to-morrow. Eleanor Cotton was to come, too, but was requisi- i8o ON DUTY AND OFF tioned by the Red Cross for night canteen for refugees at the Gare de I'Est, so she went off at half -past eight to-night and returns at half-past seven to-morrow morning. I feel that I ought not to say anything about the offensive, for everything you ought to know will be in your papers. The Air Service, according to Mary, feel more confident about this attack than the last. June 7 I am open to congratulations on not being a trained nurse by profession. I did it for six days and I never was so tired in my whole life — my back ached so I thought it would break in two — the only thing that buoyed me up was the thought that I should probably never have to do it again. From eight to quarter of seven, I sat down only about twenty minutes for lunch, and the rest of the time I made beds and gave bed baths and scrubbed tables and walked back and forth from the ward to the storeroom and hot- water tap (about half a mile) without a pause — except for some removing of old dressings and bandaging on new ones, taking temperatures and serving meals — never again ! In the hospital which is arranged for seven hundred we had about thirteen hundred men — most of them not very badly wounded, and a fair number just gassed. All the corridors had a continuous row of beds, end on end, and that made a great many. I was in an improvised ward (no big table, chairs, or cupboard) of twenty beds, and made a lot of the AFTER CHATEAU THIERRY 181 corridor beds, too. The boys were mostly full of pep and crazy to get back to the front — they are sur- prisingly bloodthirsty and treat the whole question of ''bumping off" and being ''bumped off" as the best joke in the world. They are utterly cheerful. They all look very young and pink and white — so much younger than the French. The rush has slacked off now, half the corridor beds being empty, and I am back on histories as I was last year — only I am also historian in the operating- room, which will be very interesting when I know the doctors a little so that I can watch a bit more closely. Of course, every day I expect to be off to my French hospital, but the pass is still being held up. I am living most inconveniently, having packed everything to start at once two weeks ago. Everything is in a per- fect mess. Yesterday at Tosca one of the old blesses — not one I ever had much to do with, except that he was a great pal of H. Fish's — came all the way across the house to talk to me — you *d never find an American taking all that trouble and doing such a cute thing. However, don't imagine I don't think more highly of " our boys" than of the French, for I do — but they certainly lack the social qualities. The French may only put on their interest in you, but if they put it on successfully and continuously, I don't know why it is n't just as good. If you believe their friendliness genuine, it is so for you. i82 ON DUTY AND OFF Same day, 1 1 p.m. Operating-room, Neuilly On Thursday I left a calm hospital, with nearly all the corridor beds empty. At half -past two to-day I found every bed full, the nurses* home turned into wards, two tent wards on the roof, even the ground- floor corridor double lined with men on stretchers and a double line down to the operating-room. I went there, to work, and found four cases at once being done just as rapidly as possible, with two doctors, etherizer and nurse for each case — none of whose names I knew, but all of which had to go down on the operating-slip. My job is far the hardest I have done yet. I have to find out from the patient how long ago he was wounded — that means noticing every time one comes in and seizing on him before the ether- izer gets him; then I put down his name, doctors' names, hour of beginning, how much ether given, hour of ending ; and then catch the doctor at the one moment when he can give me his attention, after he has stopped operating and before he goes to wash up, in time to get the diagnosis and operating notes dic- tated and written on two slips and one slip pinned to the patient before the stretcher-bearers hustle him off. Every one is hurrying at top speed every second — except the operating surgeons : they are wonder- ful in the personal way they speak to each man before he is etherized, and in their patience and politeness to every one. It just makes you sick: these rows and rows of waiting boys and the thought of all the acute pain AFTER CHATEAU THIERRY 183 that is being constantly distributed from the operat- ing-room throughout the hospital. I have caught glimpses of all sorts of terrible things; but every one is so busy, including myself, that I don't get a chance to really see what is going on. It is now seven in the evening, Saturday. I was on yesterday from half-past two to nine and this morn- ing from eight to twelve and have just come on for the night. They will relieve me to-morrow if they can. Of course, if I can't stay awake I can go off and let the etherizers take the notes as they have heretofore. Oh, dear — it is too horrible! To-day we have mainly Marines after the two days* glorious fight they have put up north of Chateau Thierry, and we get them only a few hours from the battle-field. The Americans are a great crowd : the finest stuff in the world. Just now there is just one very serious operation go- ing on and the room is as quiet as a church. But when there are four there is always some one going under or coming out, and the room resounds with groans and shouts and curses and cries of "Give me my gas mask," or "Kamerad," and sometimes shrieks of laughter — it is rather terrific. All the boys are keen to get back and have another whack at the ** Dutch." One doctor said to-day: **Well the Dutch rather got you this time, didn't they, my boy?" The boy swelled with pride and said, **Yes; but, oh, doctor, you just ought to have seen the Dutch!" Last night when every one went to supper I had i84 ON DUTY AND OFF quite a chat with one of the nicest Marines you ever saw — perfectly delightful — they are so clean-cut. June 9 Monday night, ten o'clock, at home, thank Heaven. Saturday night turned into Sunday morning with the stream absolutely steady — three or four op- erations all the time. When at about half-past three in the morning some one drew the curtain and opened the window on a marvellous deep violet-blue sky with the trees coal black against it and a fresh breeze, it was more than one could bear with equanimity — so heavenly outside and so horrible inside — all the blood and the hacked-up flesh, and the thought of how each one is going to suffer when he gets out of ether. At midnight hostilities cease for half an hour and every one gropes his way down to the dining-room for a regular meal. Then a new shift of doctors and nurses comes on. My job is not as tiring as the ward work, except that I stand all the time. At half-past seven we have breakfast, and by that time I was pretty much all in, so I went off slightly later — but the operating went right on. I slept as best I could that day and went on again at half-past eight Sunday night; but the convoys had stopped coming in, for the time, so that the operating was over at half -past eleven. The rest of the night I washed rubber gloves, and then copied the operations into a book. Every operation gets recorded three times ! — Army regulations. Of course, I was much less tired this morning (though it was a much longer night, because so monotonous), AFTER CHATEAU THIERRY 185 and I slept pretty well from about half-past eleven to six ; nevertheless, I was very glad to get a note at six saying I need n't come till nine to-morrow. I don't know what that means, but anyhow I have the night for sleeping. I am glad to have fait le service de nuit, because it is so extraordinary, but I hope I shan't have to keep it up. I get an odd half-hour or so almost always to talk to the boys and enjoy it immensely. I write letters for them occasionally — they are mostly very inar- ticulate, but I found one very gloomy Irishman from County Cork (and Chicago) who dictated a vigorous and fluent letter to his mother, still a resident of Cork, and told her just what he thought of the Ger- mans for bringing misery on the whole worrld and making us all travel from home — in the richest brogue. Another man I have talked to is an Irishman from Charlestown, Massachusetts. About every tenth man can hardly talk English; and at least fifty per cent have absolutely foreign names. I feel, often, rather hopeful that the war may be over in four or five months. I must find a spot to lie down on. CHAPTER VI A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL June 19 As you will know by cable before this reaches you, I am off for Limoges after all : Base Hospital No. 24. So this is farewell, Paris. Well — some day I'll come back and show you the sights — my sights. At Limoges you can at least think of me as being as safe as in Wisconsin. I am actually in the train, with my luggage all checked. Of course, as the train has n't started, some- thing may happen, but Fate has only six minutes left. I am going to a town where I know slightly one man, whom I may never see, have met one other (Mr. Tyson, my chief), and that's all. It is quite an adven- ture; more of a one in the way of people than Beau- vais, as I know several girls there, but not so much in the way of bombs and Germans. The train is really moving. I have had a wild two days getting packed and saying good-bye to people. Sunday, Mary and Louisa and I went out to our same old hillside for lunch. In the evening Eleanor and I went to hear "Werther" sung. Monday I went to the A.R.C. and got all kinds of instructions, rounded up my uniform, applied for my ticket, etc. ; said fare- well to Aviation, and went to supper with Sylvia and her sister. A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 187 June 21 The trip — the latter half — was lovely. Banks flooded with blue lupin, pierced with spikes of crim- son foxglove or blotched with scarlet poppies — fields and fields of poppies and daisies. The country shortly before Limoges is like the lower Berkshires — round Limoges itself it is quite lovely, too. I made friends with a Red Cross doctor, who came and called on me in the train and helped me off with my lug- gage. Mr. Tyson met me, and he really is the most friendly, optimistic person I have seen for some time. But, oh me, oh my, the hospital seems so quiet and so healthy after Neuilly ! About four fifths of the men are up — and a man in bed is so much easier to please ! However, Mr. Tyson is doing every kind of a thing here, and I can relieve him of the detail of the searching for missing men. ... The refugee conditions here are terrible. The doc- tor I saw on the train is here to investigate them, and last night he told me things that would make you sick. One house he went into, right near the hotel, had a big room with no beds or even chairs, just straw, where twenty-two men and women had lived since last November — no possibility of the slightest privacy and no bathroom arrangements of any kind — not even a basin to wash your face in. If you let your imagination loose on that room you will about hit it. The night I came we went over to some long, shed- like barracks where the refugees were lying on mat- tresses — again men, women, and children all to- i88 ON DUTY AND OFF gether. There was one woman with six children, down to a babe of two months, who had been refu- giee twice. The population of Limoges has more than doubled in a year, so you can imagine what it is to find work for these people — or anything else. Everything is fearfully expensive, and at any price it is almost impossible to find a room. I am getting a real war breakfast now — coffee, without milk, and two slices of bread! No butter, and jam an extra. Yesterday afternoon we went to see a Mrs. Havi- land, who is from Cambridge and whose husband is head of the apparently famous porcelain factories here. She has a flat converted into a hospital for French soldiers which she runs absolutely herself — twenty- five beds — and they give her the worst cases that come through. It is a cold rain to-day and I wish I were at home; or even in Paris. Well, I shall be before many months. June 22 It has cleared off, and as I sit on my broad window- sill I see a great half-circle of grassy or wooded hills with a little gap in the middle where I suppose a river runs. To-morrow being the Sabbath I shall take a half-day off and investigate the country-side. It would be a perfect place for picnics if only Mary were here. Limoges itself is high and the air delicious. The ** searching'* is quite exciting. The first day I came on a murder and a desertion ! Thank you a thousand times for the pictures of J., which I can see are very good — and yet I should A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 189 never know him. The moustache and no Sam Browne belt make him look unfamiliar as himself and as a type — why no belt? Except for that he looks grand in his uniform. Awfully glad to have the pic- tures. June 27 Ma chere petite soeur — Cette lettre a 6t6 commenc6e il y a peut-^tre un mois ou plus — mais enfin j 'arrive k vous Texp^dier. Je vous 6crive un petit mot ce soir "pour vous don- ner mes nouvelles qui sont tou jours bonnes," as any poilu would say, et pour vous apprendre que je viens de m'installer dans une maison particuliere chez des gens more than particular. J'ai une toute petite chambre au rez de chauss6e qui donne sur un beau jardin avec des arbres derriere. Le pere de famille est administrateur des ceuvres publiques pour les mu- tiles de guerre (frangais). C'etait bien amusant — la mere, avec qui j'ai parle la premiere fois que j'y suis venue, a bien voulu me prendre comme lodger, mais le lendemain lorsque je suis revenue pour dire que je viendrais, elle m'a dit, "Mais 6coutez, Mademoiselle! Mon mari absolument ne veut pas — il crains ne pas avoir un coin a lui, et une jeune fille — et une Ameri- caine — tout ga serait tres genant — et surtout il avait peur que vous apporteriez des microbes de I'hopital et que le petit (a strapping lad of fourteen) attraperait quelque chose." And finally that "mon mari" would rather pay my board and lodging else- where than have me in the house. But later in the igo ON DUTY AND OFF day Madame came dashing up to the hospital to say that she had decide her husband by telHng him that if they did n't take me I should have to spend the night in the street, as the hotel would not keep me — to which he exclaimed ** Quelle horreur! Fetch the dame k Tinstant" — et comme ga, me voila. Eh bien, c'est maintenant onze heures et demie et il faut absolument me coucher. Ici je suis un peu loin de I'hopital ; mais vous n'avez aucune id6e comme la ville est pleine de gens Strangers — des r6fugi6s et des Americains. Un de ces jours. June 29 Je vous ai raconte comment le pere avait peur que *'le petit" attraperait quelque maladie et qu'il m'a demande de bien d^sinfecter mes mains avant de re- venir le soir, mais je ne vous ai pas dit qu'il etait siir qu'en me baignant dans un tub (que je les avals pr6- venu etait tout n6cessaire) j'eclabousserais le par- quet et les murs ! Ainsi chaque matin la bonne vient me dire que la cuisine est a ma disposition, et j'y vais poser mon tub sur un parquet de pierre. Je mets la cuvette dans le sink et le tub a cote, et voila — et des rangs de casseroles en cuivre me benissent des murs. Je vous assure j'y suis tres bien. (J'ecrive tout en mangeant des tres bons chocolats que m'a donne cet ange d'homme, M. Tyson.) I wish you could look in on me in my little room, with its bed right under the big window — just like a tuberculosis patient, I remarked to Madame to- A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 191 night and got a shuddering "Oh, I hope not.*' I had forgotten her sensibilities. But really she and Pere are most cordial, kind-hearted, and genial. My room has a bookcase full of books, and another of bound Illus- trations for years back, as well as of the present. Well, the work is going along all right, I think, and I enjoy it, though I have n't the useful sense I had at the Ambulance. In the mornings I either go round the wards with Mr. Tyson, distributing sometimes candy, sometimes smokes, sometimes magazines, fruit, writ- ing-paper, or toothbrushes, to all the wards — some twenty, with thirty or forty beds in each; or I take my "missing" list and the list I have made out from the registrar's office of men from the same com- panies and go round getting those men to tell me what happened to the missing, or, where we already know they are dead, the "D.D.B.," which I finally found was " Details of Death and Burial." The after- noon I spend in writing out my notes, writing letters for the gas, right arm fracture, or contagious cases, reading aloud to the severely gassed, and chatting by and large. To-day I rashly bought (out of my own "give- away" money) a first-class (much better than we needed, only there was n't any other in town) guitar. I had borrowed one for several days for a boy who had played professionally, and the doctor was so pleased with its inspiriting effect that he begged me to get the loan extended, and did n't evacuate the boy for several days more just so he could play to the wards. As the guitar was the priceless and unique pos- 192 ON DUTY AND OFF session of its owner, I hated to keep it, and therefore bought the other. There is already a mandoHn at the hospital, so they have regular concerts and go round from ward to ward. Two of the wards I feel at home in, and individuals I know in others. When the Champ de Juillet (Chicago unit) opens, as it will in a week, I shall hardly have time to do anything beside the real "searching," whereas I should prefer just to do the reading aloud part — except that the other serves as a good introduction. I have n't seen an aeroplane or heard a bomb or barrage since I got down here, and I must say I miss at least the former. In the lovely, muddy, wet, scrambly walk I took last Sunday I lost my pocket-book with letter of credit therein. Luckily, as I, started I took out a hun- dred-franc note (practically all the money there was in it), my worker's permit (which serves as passe- porte), and my bread ticket, saying to myself that if some one demanded my purse I would give them that but guard the essentials of life — so those I had in my belt and they stayed with me. I trust I shall not need any more money, having drawn my ** Flight out of Paris" funds, but still will you ask L. & H. to send over a new one by mail, as I could always cable if I needed one quickly. I only lost the sheet part, not the little book. Limoges f July 3 Did I ever chance to mention the Zouave get-up? It varies in color — sometimes the huge bloomers are A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 193 red and the bolero jacket black braided with red; sometimes the whole is dark blue ; and sometimes, of course, they dress like Christians. But to-day I saw the winner, in bloomers (not as big as usual), jacket and waistcoat of most brilliant blue; the jacket heav- ily bound and decorated with bright yellow; sash and cap of scarlet. Quite stunning. To-day I talked with a most pathetic ambulance man of forty. I was just walking by his bed — I did not know him at all — when he said, ''Wait a min- ute, I want to show you something." So he untied a newspaper package and got out some photographs of an utterly shapeless, ugly barn, and a few cows, which he said was home — a ranch in Texas. One photograph was of a woman leaning on a stick, feed- ing the ducks, and that was his aunt, who had brought him up. His uncle and sister Nellie had both died since he left, and this poor rheumatic-y old lady is all alone to manage the farm which is their sole means of livelihood. He had half a dozen letters with the photographs, and said with satisfaction that a fellow that had all those letters was pretty lucky — and the worst part of that is it 's true : so many of the boys have been here three or four months, and be- cause they have moved many times, or for some rea- son, have never received a word from home. Well, then he gave me a letter he wanted me to read, and you never heard anything so pathetic — it was an account of the "deth" of Nellie by "newmony,** and how uncle " grief ed and weped" so that he had an at- tack of heart trouble during the funeral, had to leave 194 ON DUTY AND OFF the church, and died before his wife got back from **bering" her **nece" in the "semitary." Then it tells how kind every one was and what lovely * * bok- ets" they had, and how uncle was "beried" two days later; and how she did n't know what to do about the farm, but would try to keep it going till the war was over and this boy came home — chiefly because "Food will win the war and weVe got to produse all we can." She really was too pathetic. The poor man is just crazy to get back to the farm, where he is sure he would be more useful than in France. He says he has had shell shock twice and he is too old for the work he is doing — he just hates it and has none of the zest that the youngsters have for it. The horrors are horrors to him and nothing else. To-night at the canteen I learned that Mr. Tyson had just heard he was ordered away. That is an awful blow. Well, I 'm glad I got started under him. He is an angel and most effective. Last night I went to the theatre with Mr. O'Brien and more than enjoyed myself. The first scene was in a grocery store and was perfect. It seemed much less theatrical than an English piece does because, we de- cided, every 6picerie is just like a stage anyway — so it merely seemed as if we were in any of the regular stores here. It was capitally acted and a very good show. I kept wishing for Father, he would have loved it so. Mr. O'Brien is so agreeable and so radically in- telligent — or intelligently radical. It is quite an affair to come home after nine o'clock (bedtime), for there is only one set of keys in the fam- A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 195 ily and I am not allowed to borrow them. So on reach- ing the house I whistle the Marseillaise under Mon- sieur's window; he unbolts and opens the heavy sheet-iron window shutters, throws out a huge bunch of keys to me; I select the biggest (five inches long), unlock the garden gate twice, enter and re-lock it twice, select a key four inches long with two prongs (all this being in complete darkness, I have to choose them by size and shape), unlock the outer house door, find the key with three prongs and unlock the apart- ment door. I must say to their glory, however, that once inside the first house door you can light an elec- tric lamp which goes out automatically at the end of five minutes. They have a few practical things which beat ours — but very, very few. I suppose, as usual, you want to know just what I am doing from moment to moment, so I will give you to-day for a starter. Twenty minutes of nine went to the watchmaker's to have bless^'s watch repaired. Ten minutes of nine to half -past ten, stood in line at the Q.M.*s to fill orders for patients. A man came up and asked if I could do anything about his wife, who was expecting a baby and for two months had not received the allotment he made her, and was very poorly off in the way of clothes for the baby. Took his name, etc., and promised to notify the Home Service De- partment, which would have a visitor go to his wife. Half-past ten delivered stuff to consignees — horrible amount of arithmetic involved in the payments. Went to another ward and gave a man green spectacles and a razor — this man and nine others were in gas two 196 ON DUTY AND OFF hours before they were aware of it. Their sergeant died in three hours, and one by one all but three of the others died ("It was kind of disheartening," this man said). Two of these three are here. They were burned from head to foot — their hair, and even their clothes burned ; they could not open their eyes for two months and they still have to wear colored glasses, are liable not to be able to keep their dinner down, and are very out of breath after walking a hun- dred yards — though it was about four months ago they were gassed. Well, incidentally, they lost every- thing they had, and have not been paid for nearly seven months. I lent each of them fifty francs. Found a boy waiting for me and cashed a check for him of four hundred and fifty francs — let 's hope it was good. Took some raspberries to a lad who is still very sick, though doing finely under a new serum treat- ment. Found he had just had transfusion from an- other specially nice boy, so I divided the berries be- tween them and they said they sure were fine. Talked for some time with a French bless6 ; read aloud to my other very sick boy, who seems really on his last legs ; wrote a letter to the A.R.C. about the wife of the man I had seen in the morning, and to him to say I had done so; and then it was twelve and time for lunch. Half-past twelve went to the registrar's ofiice to check off certain lists, and all the rest of the afternoon I "searched" for the missing — search being broken at intervals with longer or shorter conversations with some dozen individuals, including the one who wants to go back to the farm. Sang a little with some of A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 197 them with a guitar I bought with some of Mr. Brush's money, as I guess I recounted before. ''Little pigs He with their tails curled up" made a good deal of a hit, though not so much as with the French girls at Avia- tion, where it may be said to have had a succes fou. After supper (at six) went to see a Jewish ''mental case" who had professed a desire for an Old Testa- ment. . . .Talked a while with a very nice boy who was putting himself through the University of Wash- ington Law School, and intelligent and interesting, and with a speculative quality noticeably absent in many enlisted men. Then went down to the R.C. canteen to return the guitar we had borrowed, and to get a delicious glass of iced coffee. Home, and sat out in the garden with the very hospitable and pleasant folk chez qui j'habite. To-morrow is the Fourth. But I must now go to bed. I will post this without further ado. July 7 I have for the first time fathomed the mystery of why the French think so highly of putting wine into water — from a medical point of view: it is not that the wine purifies the water, but that it "cuts" it and makes it less "cru" for the stomach. My good kind landlady would hardly bear the thought of my drinking two glasses of water to-night — she was sure it would "make me harm" and wanted to put in cog- nac and sugar, or substitute beer. I wish you could have seen Mr. O'Brien and me yesterday, driving through the centre of Limoges, igS ON DUTY AND OFF under a stupefying sun, in a two-wheeled milk-cart- like affair, very old, very shabby, and extraordinarily uncomfortable, behind a miniscule horse about a hun- dred years old who would n't trot for more than three quarters of a minute at a time and would occasionally stall on the car track — and every sidewalk lined with enlisted men whose salutes the Lieutenant returned with an increasingly rosy countenance. Some Sun- day parade, I can tell you. And if it was n't saluting Americans, it was frankly hilarious French — and oh, it was so hot! We jogged along, the seat (no cush- ion) getting more and more unbearable, and only for about twenty minutes of the whole trip did we get any shade. Of course, it was my fault — I chose the vehi- cle — but I did n't know what it would be like. At the end of the afternoon O'B. confessed that he dis- liked being conspicuous! In the evening we went, in- vited, to see some French friends of his — very good fun. There is no doubt about it, the French are infi- nitely easier to get on with, at the first few whacks, an3rway, than the Americans. They are so responsive and care-free. July 15 East or west, France or home, peace or war, there is nothing so recreative,, so equilibrising, as a dish of talk with an active and liberal-minded person with whom one is in natural rapport. An awful thought struck me this afternoon, as I stood in our awful little graveyard in the blazing sun : namely, the French cemetery seems to me to exactly A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 199 express them — the graves so close they touch, ter- rifically fixed up with real or artificial flowers, quite gayly, some very beautiful places; is it possible that ours — a bare vacant lot with a wooden fence round it, not a shrub or a tree, nothing but bare earth, and a few flowers, in the glaring sun — expresses us? No shadows, no softness, no suggestion of mystery? To-day has been the first unpleasant day here — hot and breathless. Ordinarily the weather is marvel- lous — nights that are almost cold and remind me of Camp. Speaking of coincidences — do you remember in telling of that night I spent in the operating-room I mentioned a boy who said, when the doctor remarked that the Dutch had rather got him, " But, Doctor, you ought to have seen the Dutch"? He was one of the only two boys I remember there. In the next day or two I wrote perhaps three letters for the boys, and it seems that he, entirely by accident, was one of them. Yesterday a boy asked me to write for him, and again it was he ! We came to Limoges the same day, and I have felt that he was very familiar, but have only just pieced it all together. Such a nice boy, too: never- failing good-humor under very trying circumstances. One of the pleasant items in the day's march is the walk to the car in the evening when the streets are full of children and you feel now and again a small, hot hand squeezed into yours and hear " Good-a-bi-ee " pronounced very softly and gravely by a little person of four years or so. Last night there was such an enveloping tumultu- 200 ON DUTY AND OFF ous sunset of silver and gold and purple and black, later tinged with copper, as I have rarely seen ex- celled. It was alive — a vast, stormily passionate be- ing. To return to Sunday — at two o'clock O'Brien, Lieutenant and Madame Barret, two children, and I moulded ourselves into a victoria and drove some two or three miles into the country to the house of friends of the Barrets. (Lieutenant Barret is engaged at the Etat Major frangais here and hence thrown much with O'B.) We were taken into a room and in- troduced to some ten ladies and two men (varying in age from one year to at least ninety) and appointed chairs in the precise circle around the edge of the room. I thought we had got to a spiritualist meeting, but not at all — it was the ordinary lay-out for a Sunday afternoon party. After a bit the lady of ninety rose and said we would now make a tour of the gar- den. So we wandered through a very pretty propriet6, the old lady pointing occasionally to a place where there were about five trees deep of woodlands and saying with conviction, "You see, it is quite sauvage here." However, farther on it did more nearly ap- proach the sauvage. The gentleman of the party of- fered me his arm going down a little incline for fear that I should fall, stopping every few minutes to re- cite V. Hugo or de Musset to me. The whole party screamed when I stubbed my toe, and after ten min- utes' ambling I was anxiously asked whether I was too tired to go farther. We returned to the house and admired the baby, the miniatures painted by the A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 201 daughter of the house, and some old enamels. And then we sat round the dining-room table and had (each as a separate course) hot chocolate, and a kind of rice custard and fruit pudding, plum pie, cherry pie, and wine. As I sat there and found the French wherewith to discourse on the girl-who-does n't- have-to-work-but-does-so-all-the-same of America, I could hear O'B. struggling with the semi-circular canals and their relation to sea-sickness. What was the priceless question they asked him? Oh, yes — did we have the Roman and Arabic numerals as they did ! We talked French solidly from half-past one o*clock till seven. July 17 Every night at seven I read aloud to two eye cases — a farmer boy (who has also studied more or less law) of Wisconsin, and a law student of Oregon. We read about half an essay of Emerson and then some- thing out of the Literary Digest or sich, or O. Henry or Stevenson. It is great fun, but was especially so to- night, for we spent most of the time in hot discussion of the "Crumps with his grunting resistance to his native devils" question. Not that we hit that pas- sage — I wish I knew where it was so I could quote it to them. We had a fine time. Only the farmer is a regu- lar evangelicist, which rather cramps my style. He is less educated and less logical than the lawyer, but a good sort. There is quite a thunderstorm going on, which puts me in mind of dear old Paris — only no siren. 202 ON DUTY AND OFF I 'm sorry, Father, about those silent letters. But I just wish you could see a poilu's spelling — it's much worse. July 22 Never expect to write again — there is such a rush. One hospital is too much for one person and the fact that I have two simply means I accomplish nothing in either. I *m going to telegraph for another searcher, but probably shan't get one. I must rush over to the Y.M.C.A. now to get books for some of the men. Very entertaining evening yesterday (Sunday) chez les Barrets. Limoges, July 19, 1918 I have just parted with quite an A No. i man — whom I enjoy being with from an outside, personal point of view, though I like plenty of others very much and enjoy them collectively. But I guess all en- joyment of any of them is over now, for the other hos- pital filled up last night and there are a great number coming to us to-morrow morning; so I shall have to attend strictly to the business of searching, and let the rest go. So we had the last of our Emerson par- ties to-night — we have read **Fate," ** Considera- tions by the Way," 'Tower," and ''War," the second seeming to us far the best. It has been great fun and we have had some hot discussions. Did I tell you I found a boy who goes up to Saranac in summer? I showed him the camp pictures in the A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 203 F.C.P. book and we thrilled over them together — and I lent him M.'s picture of Saw Tooth, just to make him homesick. I have spent the afternoon with two of the boys, wandering through the grounds of a little chateau — have to go with them to see that they demean them- selves calmly, and I had a hard time keeping them from picking some magnificent great magnolia blos- soms. We had a good time watching the women wash sheep's wool in the courtyard wash-pool, and eating semi-wild raspberries and currants. The boys loved it and we wished all the convalescents could come. If the Red Cross ever gets a truck we can easily arrange some picnic parties, but the hospital ambulances are too busy and most of the boys are not able to walk very far. I never sent you Nenette and Rintintin, did I? They will protect you against Gothas and their American equivalent. They were originally in wool, but these are a touch-on-wood charm, too. I have had a thoroughly good time this week, for I know and am known at last. But, as I say, the pleas- ant part is over. I think when I come back I will learn to do something for shell-shock patients ; I 'm afraid there'll be plenty of them, poor lads. The news to-day and yesterday is so good that I am laying large bets the fighting will be over by Feb- ruary 1st. I go round the wards in the morning now and shout out the latest communique from the French morning paper — the English ones don't reach us from Paris till the evening. Seventeen thousand pris- 204 ON DUTY AND OFF oners including two colonels and their 6tats-majors is pas mal. It is too thrilling. What would n't I give to be in Paris now! Tell every one with friends here to send snapshots of every kind of thing, all the time: the boys love them. July 30 As the hospital is chock-a-block and my work is piled up feet high around me and everything in a per- fect mess, this seems a good chance to write a letter. I can never by any remote chance do any of the things I am supposed to with anything approaching com- pleteness, so what's the odds? There are so many things to write of that there is no use trying to take them up in an orderly way. These last ten days have been very trying, in a way, through my own idiotic habit of believing every- thing I am told. We had three hundred men in one night straight from the front, who said that Soissons had been taken, Soissons and Rheims brought to- gether, the bulge cut off, and all the Germans therein taken prisoner. So I got fearfully excited and have been having a horrible reaction ever since — as it, of course, was n't true. But a whole lot has been done, and the news right along is good, though slow. One trouble with a place like this is that you are out of touch with the men who do know something of how things are really going. Here you have either the medical officers or training-camp men, who, of course, don't know any more than you do except by superior A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 205 intelligence ; and you have the men in from the front whom you inevitably believe and who are almost al- ways wrong. This morning I went down to see a hospital train unloaded. I and Marcella Burns (a new and emi- nently noteworthy acquisition) crashed aboard and had a fine look at the marvellous arrangements of our great sanitary trains before we were told it was for- bidden to be there. I will tell the world that train was something to see, with its sixteen great cars all shin- ing and new with big red crosses on the sides, the comfortable swinging bunks, beautifully complete pharmacy and medical supply room, office and type- writer, little room that can be used for emergency operations, and kitchens at either end. But, oh, dear, oh, dear — the boys when they were brought out on stretchers on to the station platform and lay in rows waiting to be put on to trucks were too, too sad. I don't know why they are so much more touching when they are on stretchers than afterwards in bed, but they are. We gave them all cigarettes and I lighted them and finally got so the match did n't blow out every time before the cigarette caught. One boy al- most cried when I gave him his cigarette, apparently just at the sound of a human voice talking English. Several Sundays I have been out to different little training camps, and they all say the same thing — that it sounds so good to hear English spoken — just as if they did n't hear their own comrades talking all the time. Apparently real English is spoken only by a woman. 2o6 ON DUTY AND OFF I don't think I ever told you about any of these little camps, did I ? I happened on one my first Sun- day, 'way up in a little village on top of a high, high ridge. Some French girls I met en route and walked along with insisted that there were Americans up there who had dances every Sunday, and that I cer- tainly ought to go to see them. So they led me through the tiny village of only a score or so of houses, radiating from a very picturesque old church, and sure enough, there in a field was a circus tent with "Y.M.C.A." on it — the first rural **Y" I had seen. It had much the air of a real circus, as the whole village was there in its Sunday bonnet. A phonograph was playing, some one was singing, and there was a little candy counter in one corner. I talked with several nice boys, one of whom (because we were both from Boston) bought me some candy. I was n't in uniform and they almost fell over back- ward when they heard me speak English. In another little camp I arrived just before supper and was given a cup of their coffee out of a great boiler in the mess tent. The mess sergeant was a great friend of mine, for we had once talked together in the street-car on the occasion of his bringing a little French girl to Base Hospital 24 to have her toothache cured. Do you know, all these highly colored descrip- tions and sentimental magazine cover pictures of the American soldier and the little French child are per^ f ectly true ! You see it all the time. Every night I pass the H6tel de Ville, right beside a barracks, where there is a small green with a low stone wall around A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 207 it, and a great round fountain in the middle, and it certainly is a pretty sight to see the place filled with Americans sitting on the wall and around the foun- tain, with children in their laps, hobnobbing with French of all ages and sexes, but especially with wounded French soldiers. The Americans and French get on beautifully — the people in these small places are wonderfully hospitable and friendly to the boys, and the boys seem to do by instinct just the kind of little thing the French like. I remember one tale, I forget who told me, of a village where a very poor sol- dier died. The family could not afford anything much in the way of a funeral, and there was almost no pro- cession to the cemetery. The coffin and few mourn- ers happened to pass a group of our boys, who at once stood at attention and then fell in behind and marched with them to the cemetery. Well, it took tremen- dously and the whole village would do anything for the boys after that. To return to the camp by the river. The mess tents, two or three of them, are right by the river on the very water's edge, and you don't know how picturesque it was to see the boys file down, mess tins in hand, to get their supper, and then seat themselves on the stone wall all along the river to eat their hot stew, soda biscuits, and coffee : — sunset reflected in the river — old arched bridge — little stone village on the steep hill above — all that sort of thing, you know. I was with a nurse from Alabama and we had quite a rally of the boys from the two sections of the country. 2o8 ON DUTY AND OFF Do you know, I am becoming very enthusiastic over my job! Not over the job as it is, but over what it might be and will be if the personnel we have asked for goes through: two men and two women (search- ers) for each hospital, six workers for each hospital hut (of which there is to be one at each hospital to replace the "Y"), a warehouse and a truck. I can't begin to tell you of the difficulties we labor under at present in the way of no supplies and no money, though I am beginning to feel as if I had the pitcher of Baucis : I have a number of times given away liter- ally all the money I had except the price of a ticket to Paris and a franc for car-fares, and I always find, the next time I look, from five to twenty francs in my pocket. "Is n't that lovely?" as Jeanne de N. would say. It is very late to-night, for I have been trying to plan my monthy report, which has to be made out according to schedule. It is difficult to say just what Red Cross supplies I have given out, as in this I have worked almost entirely with the A.R.C. Hospital rep- resentative, Captain Tyson or Captain Barnes. To- gether we have distributed through the twenty wards approximately the following: 1760 magazines; 645 French morning papers; 120 tins of Q.M. candy; 1800 handfuls of cherries; 560 ** Newspaper" boxes of cigarettes and tobacco ; 50 picture puzzles (and inter- changed these a number of times) ; enough stationery for the wards. Besides these general supplies I have given to special cases for the Red Cross, approxi- mately: 42 pounds of fruit; 30 quarts of cold drinks; A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 209 100 new books (also interchanged those already given out — about 40 in each ward) ; 3 cartons of cigar- ettes; 300 empty Red Cross bags; 150 toothbrushes for cases with specially bad mouths; 36 razors, with soap and brushes; 2 sets of breakfast china for Nurses' Home; 60 francs to men who had not been paid for many months. I have written about a hun- dred letters for or about patients; reported about six cases to Home Service Department in Paris ; found in the hospital some six men on enquiry lists; sent re- ports to Paris on about thirty-five men from missing lists. These figures apply to Base Hospital 24 only, and cover the period from June 19 to July 31, as I have done nothing for Base 13 except collect some old magazines from 24 for them and help Captain Lent distribute three thousand plums one day. Base 28 is now open also, but it is at too great a distance for me to attempt to do anything there. Then I am going to add to this report that if there were two searchers in a hospital of nine hun- dred or a thousand beds, instead of one searcher for two of that size; that if there were a large stock of supplies and a more get-at-able revolving fund, — every boy would be known individually to the Red Cross and his special needs — whether they be for the various necessities he lost when he went over the top, or for the advance of part of the pay he has not received (again because he has been in the thick of action), or for somebody's eyes or arms to replace his, or for Home Service, or for some one just to talk to — could be met. 210 ON DUTY AND OFF To-day I received a most beautiful trophy. One of the boys, whom I was n't aware of even having seen before, came up with me to my office, saying he just sort of thought he would — he 'd took the idea to come — and once up there he presented me with a seal ring which he took from a prisoner he had taken himself. It is a beauty — a black stone, oblong, with coat of arms. The lad said he had no relations to give it to and he was just going back to the front an3^way, and would probably be killed. So I have it. When I get home (that is now my one tune) the thing I shall make in odd time is comfort bags — just the empty bags. Every boy simply insists on having one and when you have twenty-four dozen made at a time from Red Cross money you, of course, get the cheapest strong stuff you can; whereas in making relatively few you could make them of really pretty stuff. August 2 I shall never get the smell of wounds out of my nose ! Reading to the poor man whose eyes are in such an awful state almost makes me sick. To-morrow night, quite against my inclination, I am going with the nurses to a dance given by all the men around. I shall not enjoy it, for no one will dance with me. August 3 I did not go to the dance after all. Instead, Mar- cella Burns and I walked out of the town a way and had a very simple supper in a garden, looking out over a deep gully with a baby river in the bottom, A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 211 and a golden sunset over high hills; then we walked through the gullies and over the hills for a couple of hours — much pleasanter than a dance could be. To- morrow we and our respective Red Cross captains are going out into the country for lunch — it being Sun- day and we in need of recreation. My shoes and stockings arrived! And the shoes had silk stockings in them! with E C P in bleue blanc rouge on them! I showed them to the boys in the office and they were very envious and agreed that the E C P was the touch beyond. I am going to wear them to-morrow. At last, last week I bought two pairs of cotton stockings at six francs, and one wore through the second day. And they are just like boards, whereas these are deliciously soft. I hope it will be clear to-morrow so I can wear my new shoes. August 7 It was, and I did, feeling like a perfect dude. I have just learned that J. is at Tours. I shall try to get there next Sunday, but am not sure I can work it. I am dead to the world to-night and came home to go to bed early, leaving my poor blind man unread to. However, I hulled and sugared and fed to him a big dish of strawberries this morning, and yesterday we had quite a long talk on the war and what he could do afterwards, which I think set him going a bit, though it did n't exactly cheer him. He had sunk into a sort of lethargy and would hardly speak — he still feels bitter, but that is not quite so bad. 212 ON DUTY AND OFF Just had a telegram from Jamie saying *' Serai k la gare Tours dimanche 10.15. Bien aise vous voir" — so I shall go. A letter from Kenneth (who is with the French Army near Soissons) says: *'Nowwe are all much en- couraged. All the recent events are in our favor; the advance, the unrest in Germany, the continued up- heavals in Russia and the Ukraine, the distress in Austria, and the brilliant success of the Americans most of all. The Colonel of the Foreign Legion said that in all his experience he had never seen troops at- tack the way they did. All the French are enthusias- tic, it cheers them up enormously. The turning point has certainly been passed." August 13 It is horribly late and I have spent most of the past twenty-four hours on the train, but if I don't now give you the outlines of my trip to Tours I never shall. Saturday evening, ten o'clock, I went bag in hand to the Red Cross canteen in the station, and slept there very comfortably, though all dressed, till two, when I had a dash of food and took the train. Slept more or less in the train, reached Chi.teauroux at half-past five. Excellent breakfast of chocolate, scram- bled eggs, bread with p^te and jam, and a doughnut (all for a franc), and a wash and brush. Train at half-past six for Tours. In first-class carriage with a French aviator and an American officer, engineer. No one at home would believe the kind of conversa- tions you have with casual acquaintances over here. A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 213 We had a good time and talked most of the way to Tours, except for an hour or so when I slept with his musette for a pillow. We discussed wives and babies — particularly his, women and men's characteristics, the boys and what they do in France, human nature in general, etc. He is an engineer, and more recently an illustrator, and is now camouflaging batteries. Wife is illustrator. Reached Tours at half-past ten, and it certainly was good to see J.'s beaming face, topped with his overseas cap. I have taken some snapshots of him for you. We walked up the street, talking, to the Y.W.C.A. where I got a room, had a bath, etc. Lunched there and then went out to see the hospital. He certainly is well located, and I have never seen him seem better or happier. Everything seems to suit him to a T. Saw his room, etc. — but he will have told you all about it. And as we talked we ate some very good maple-sugar fudge, if I do say so, which I started for him and my kind and generous landlady finished as well as making him a **buche" — a big cake-roll with chocolate in the cracks. Walked round the little village he is in, and then went to Aviation Hq. to see if Colonels G. or D. were there — which, of course, they were n't. But the boy gave me some hope of flying if I went out to the field, so we went and walked for miles and miles and miles and miles, till we finally got there. But the CO., adjutant, etc., were out. We had a good chance, however, to see two types of Nieuport, a Salmson, Caudron, Breguet, and Liberty, both on the ground and in the air. It 214 ON DUTY AND OFF was great sport. The guard said he feared there was no chance of being allowed to fly, but I could see the officer in charge the next morning between five and nine. Back and dined extremely well and went to a short bit of movie. Got to bed about midnight. Seven o'clock Monday, J. arrived, also a hack, and we drove out to the champ d 'aviation again and talked with the very nice officer in charge of flying, but all in vain. Army regulations — nurse recently killed at Issoudun — severe court-martial, etc., etc. So all we saw was more flying — but let me tell you it was a pretty sight to see the row of machines drawn up in line out in the centre of the field, with the sun shining on the morning haze. During the day I visited the A.R.C. office; we had our pictures taken on a post-card so that you could see that you had two children in uniform in France, and after lunch Jamie worked his passage past the M.P. and we took the train for Amboise. I will not tell you about the castle, nor about the castle of Chenonceau to which we motored, for you know them better than I do. I was to take the train at the lat- ter place at half-past four, but as the train was an hour and a half late we had bread-and-butter and coffee at a pretty caf6 hard by — where two engi- neers, first lieutenants, insisted on shaking my hand when they found I was American. Said they must just once ''shake the hand of an American woman in France." Finally got the train, sharing compartment with a very nice Frenchman, wife and child, and at first two Americans, later a Frenchman. The whole A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 215 trip from Tours to Vierzon was supposed to be four hours, and in that time they managed to lose three and a half hours, so I lost my connection at Vierzon, though I had an hour and a half leeway. The others were in the same box, but we were lucky, for the car we were in was left on the track and we spent the night in it instead of on the floor of the waiting-room already solid with poilus, or trying in vain to get a room after midnight in some hotel. Slept very well, really. At six took train for Limoges — got off and had breakfast again at the Ch^teauroux A.R.C. can- teen, and finally reached Limoges at three. But my, what a journey — hot and simply never-ending! Wherever four or five houses were gathered together they called it a stop, and every stop was three quar- ters of an hour long. I was alone most of the way, and just lay and dozed — having broken my spectacles the day before. Just at first I had an exhausted avia- tor to guard and wake up at Issoudun. J. certainly gave me a fine time and fed and drove me royally. It was great to see him. We could n't either of us see that the other had changed a particle. But he certainly seemed happy as a clam at high tide. I hear, by the way, that the brother law is off, so I may come back; but I '11 go to La Fauche for a look around, all the same. Some of the boys were so nice about saying they were glad to see me back. The trip was worth it be- cause I found out how glad I was to get back to B.H. 24 if for nothing else! 2i6 ON DUTY AND OFF Limoges y August 22 It is after eleven and I have just come in from the most heavenly drive en auto — a farewell party. We (four A.R.C. representatives) started about half -past five or so for Eymoutiers, which was supposed to be about an hour's drive along the Vienne. Of course we made a few mistakes in the road, so we took a good while, but it certainly was lovely looking down from the steep, high side of the river valley at the river it- self — fairly broad, but with stones to ripple over — and the high banks opposite. Everything so green and luxuriant despite weeks and weeks of drought. And every little while little valleys would open up back into the hills. About quarter of seven the engine began to gasp, and finally stopped short, leaving us in front of a cottage and somewhere near St. L6onard. Complete lack of gasoline; and gasoline is not easily come by over here, I assure you — almost impossible. Well, we thought there were Americans at St. Leon- ard and the cottagers told us that was only five hundred yards beyond — but how to get there with- out the wearisome, time-taking process of walking? Suddenly, from the middle of a hedge a bit farther on there appeared an old fairy, disguised as a peasant woman, waving in her hand a quart bottle of gaso- line. Where she came from and how she divined that we wanted gasoline, I don't yet know% She said we could probably get some from the Americans, though most of them had gone, and could refill her bottle and leave it at the patisserie Petit Jean! It was miracu- lous. We pushed the car up to the top of the rise so A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 217 the gasoline would flow into the engine, and reached St. Leonard all right, only to learn that the last American officer had left this morning. As we were wondering what we could possibly do, along came a U.S. car with two Americans and a French inter- preter and American wife, who without hesitation told us that the nearest place to get gasoline was Limoges. Then the clever enlisted man bethought him of a wrecked U.S. Ford on the green a few yards beyond. He found that there really was gasoline in it, and he drained it off for us — just about enough to get home on! But they roared with laughter when we said we were going to take supper in Eymoutiers and recommended our going back to Limoges, as nearer. So we decided to sup at St. Leonard, where we were — a very old village, on top of a hill with a gorgeous view over hill and dale — and at the moment a gold and flame sunset behind the blue mountains.We hap- pened on a hotel where various American officers had stayed, where they not only cheerfully agreed to light the fire and give us omelette, fried potatoes, steak, bread and fresh buttery jam, sponge-cake and coffee, but offered to find a Y.M.C.A. man for us to see about gasoline. He, luckily, had a friend who had a cousin who kept a garage, and he got us some more gasoline. So we had no fear in going home. Now, was n't that an extraordinary tale of good luck? If anything had happened at a different time or spot we should still be on the road to Eymoutiers. Well — the supper was absolutely excellent : the coffee the best I have had over here — American, of course, as well as 2i8 ON DUTY AND OFF the sugar — the sponge-cake as good as you could ask — we each had a big piece and they were so re- gretful that they had n't known we were coming so they could have made us a big cake, for they knew Americans all loved cake. This is certainly the coun- try in which to get delicious meals in little villages. Imagine if we went to a place in America one third the size of Cotuit, at quarter of eight of the hottest day of the year, when the kitchen fire was out, and asked for dinner, what cordial response we should meet, and what food! We decided it was too late to go on to Eymoutiers, and so came straight home by a shorter and less beautiful road ; but we were sorry we did n*t go on, because, though we had no lights, it was very plain driving in the full moonlight and the only vehicles we met were American camions. I never saw a more radi- ant, overflowing, moonlight night — and so cool we were almost too cold, after a scorching day. There are several outdoor moments over here which I shall never forget, and this is one of them. It is now after midnight and I must go to bed. Work has been going well lately. Yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow I am doing up the wards fairly thor- oughly, spending about three quarters of an hour in each. I start off for a group of four or five wards with a great big market-basket so laden down that I can hardly carry it. This time I had an A.R.C. bag (empty), a clean piece of tape for his dog tag, a shav- ing-brush, and razor blades for every boy that needs them ; several little English-French dictionaries, decks A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 219 of cards, one picture puzzle for each ward (Father's, by the way, I gave out when I first came and was awfully glad to have them because the ones ordered had n't come), and about three cakes of chocolate and two cans of sliced apple per ward — these latter two items for sale. You can buy only very little choc- olate at a time here. Then I had a few combs. I have been to-day with Nick Costello (the boy who gave me the ring and has since become my shadow, helping me distribute my wares, running er- rands, etc.) to see some French people with whom he has made great friends. Such a nice, honest young couple, who received us with great cordiality and gave us excellent coffee with rum in it. They have a little girl of four years, to whom Nick is devoted — she sat in his lap all the time we were there. There was such a friendly, simple relationship between him and this family; he has been to their house a great deal. On Easthound train August 28 If you will forgive my jiggly train handwriting, I will tell you about the money which Cousin Fanny so super-angelically gave me. It is all spent already! And I don't believe that sum ever gave more pleas- ure. I cashed it all in five-franc notes and then went to every boy from the top to the bottom of the hos- pital and pursued the following conversation: Me: **Have you as much as five francs?" Boy (with first a look to indicate that I am mildly 220 ON DUTY AND OFF crazy, and then a roar of laughter): ^'Five francs? Gee, Miss, I have n't seen five francs in five months" ; or, "Me? Why, I Ve forgotten what five francs looks like"; or, "Why, if I had five francs I believe I'd be well to-morrow so's I could go out and spend it." I never shall forget "the five-franc look" as long as I live. Those boys are shifted, just before pay-day, from one front to another, are wounded several times, per- haps, and go to half a dozen hospitals (so that they have n't been paid for from three to thirteen months) ; they lose every possession and every cent they have when they go over the top, and the result is they have n't a car-fare or the price of a hair-cut, even, let alone enough to get a meal once in a while outside the institution where they are incarcerated or to go to a movie. Just after I had been into one of the shack wards, where the convalescent cases are, I passed under the windows and I judge the boys were having a war-dance ; at any rate they were yelling with joy — "Wow, wow! Oh, Boy!" I never enjoyed anything more. I only wished I could have had a recording graphophone and a cinema machine to get the ex- pressions and tone of voice of those boys, and then I would run it off at the next Red Cross drive. I don't know whether this was the kind of thing she meant me to spend the money for, but the min- ute I heard it had come to me it flashed on me with the convincingness of truth that this was the thing to do. I hope she will think so, too. A U.S. BASE HOSPITAL 221 I have acquired in the last three months such a personal and enthusiastic affection for the Army that it was the greatest pleasure in the world to be able to supply an important lack for the wounded of Base Hospital 24. \ September 7 My boat is supposed to sail to-night, and I am on the train for Bordeaux. I have just said good-bye to Jamie, who joined me at Tours and went along for an hour or so on the train ; I hope he will get back in time for his convoy, and not get court-martialled for A.W.O.L. Such a hectic few days as I have passed in Paris, saying good-bye to every one, re-packing, and having my passport made out and visaed by fifty different people. One thing I did was to call on the Senateur de la Dr6me to try to obtain his influence in securing a bureau de tabac for Petit. The bureaux are usually given out to widows ; but as Petit has but one leg and only one useful arm, and two aged parents whom he must partly support, with only his corporal's pay of two francs a day, I think he classifies as a widow. He would be just the person for a bureau, for he is as bright as a steel trap and has a real social gift. Un- fortunately the Senateur was not yet in Paris, so I had to content myself with writing him a long letter. I have deposited fifteen hundred francs for Petit to draw on when he gets the bureau or to help set him up in whatever metier he undertakes ; I wish I could have 222 ON DUTY AND OFF gone down to Loriol to talk with him about it, but it is too far. I ought to land about the i8th or earlier, and the first thing I shall have to do is hire a telephone booth, for I have promised numbers of New York boys that I would telephone to their families and tell them all the news. I am also to see one boy*s wife and sister (and sing them the song of the "Little Pigs*'), an- other's mother, and a third's friend. Then I am laden down with presents which have to be sent off to their fond friends : perfume, medals, sketches, bits of eclat from wounds, gloves, hand-made souvenirs, etc., etc. When I get to Boston I have so many families to see that I shall have a regular Home Service office of my own. And only two short months before I am back in France! Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process Neutralizing agent: Magnesitim Oxide Treatment Date: jyj^y 2001 PreservationTechnologie: A WORLD LEADER IM PAPER PRESEHVATIOI 111 Thomson Park Drive 1.1^ a A icnec r f LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 007 690 821 7 i' ■.■-■-■ ^''.'s? >. --r-j :&:M