570 
 9 
 
 K6 
 opy 1 
 
 On the Edge of the Storm 
 
 The Story of a Year in France 
 
 SHEPHERD KNAPP 
 
1 
 
 On the Edge of the Storm 
 
 The Story of a Tear in France 
 
 SHEPHERD KNAPP 
 
 Commonwealth Press, Printers 
 Worcester, Mass. 
 

 6 
 
 Copyright, 1921, by Shepherd Knapp, Worcester, Massachusetts 
 
 3)aA527S15 
 
 NOV 19 192! 
 
 /w* I 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This is not a war story in the ordinary sense. It contains no descrip- 
 tions of battles and front-line trenches. The War forms its background 
 only; and the boys in khaki who figure in it appear in their human and 
 personal capacity, rather than as units in the fighting machine. For it was 
 when they had a chance to rest and play, time to talk and laugh and smoke 
 and eat, that they came to the Y. 
 
 The letters from which the narrative is taken were, with a few self- 
 evident exceptions, written to my family and the people of my church. 
 
 Shepherd Knapp 
 Worcester, Mass. 
 
 November 11, 1921 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 I. At St. Nazaire, the Port of Entry 1 
 
 II. At Chaumont, the Army Headquarters 22 
 
 III. At Aix-Ies-Bains, the First Leave Area 37 
 
 IV. Behind the Lines, near Chateau-Thierry 71 
 
I. AT ST. NAZAIRE, THE PORT OF ENTRY 
 Beginning Work 
 
 August 18, 1917. Here I am at the Y tent after my first 
 day of active service, certainly a most eventful day. Of 
 course, I am not permitted to say where I am, except that it 
 is at the American camp known as Base No. 1. You can 
 hardly imagine the strangeness and interest of this adventure, 
 to me so entirely new: the military background; the being 
 a part — though so small a one — of the military system; to 
 wear khaki in a world where all is khaki; to be subject to 
 military regulations. That is all curious; but the really in- 
 teresting thing is the contact with the men. I have already 
 had opportunity to get into touch with any number of Uncle 
 Sam's boys, and that does seem worth while from the start. 
 They are a fine-looking set of fellows; you would be proud of 
 them. 
 
 I got here early yesterday morning, and breakfasted with 
 the District Secretary. Later I saw the six or seven others. 
 We had dinner in one of the Y tents in the town, the food 
 being brought from the army mess, my first experience of 
 that. Supper I got from the soldiers' mess myself, here at 
 the camp, using my mess-kit. Breakfast the same this morn- 
 ing. That, as much as anything, makes me feel like a part 
 of the Army. Another thing that seems funny enough is the 
 saluting, trying to keep my right hand free so as to salute all 
 officers, American and French. 
 
 All the afternoon I was behind the counter in the canteen, 
 selling chocolate and candy and cigarettes to the boys, and 
 having chats with a lot of them. It was great! 
 
 In Charge at the Camp 
 
 August 26. It seems to be settled that I take the position 
 of Senior Secretary here at the camp, and I am working hard 
 at the task of organizing the work for the eight of us who now 
 make up the staff. It is particularly puzzling, because, until 
 we get into our splendid hut, now nearing completion, every- 
 
ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 thing has to be done as best may be. Working in a tent 
 makes special problems. From every point of view the can- 
 teen is the great difficulty. But if you could see the way the 
 men throng it, you would agree that the time and effort are 
 well spent. . . . The great event of the week has been 
 the arrival of three American women, to work in the canteen. 
 Two of them are from Boston and vicinity. This is a scheme 
 that the English Y has used with great success. These girls 
 are evidently game and indefatigable, and are already the 
 greatest possible help. 
 
 August 27. Yesterday we were so rushed that we had no 
 time to go to the mess ourselves for our dinner and supper, 
 but just took a hasty bite back of the tent, potatoes on a 
 fork and a hunk of meat in our fingers. At nine-thirty we 
 were quite ready to roll into bed. I, by the way, am sleeping 
 in the same sleeping-bag that has travelled with me to the 
 Canadian Rockies so often, so that I am assured of pleasant 
 dreams, if ever I dream at all; which isn't likely, for after a 
 strenuous day like yesterday, one sleeps like a log. Everybody 
 keeps in a glorious good humor, so that nothing matters. 
 
 As Senior Secretary here it is my part to see that the 
 programmes for the afternoon and evening are carried out 
 — social, athletic, religious, educational, and that the workers 
 take their turns of duty at the canteen. Also, I have the 
 interesting task of trotting around to the various army head- 
 quarters, and finding out who among the officers and men 
 are able and willing to help us out with our programmes. 
 The variety of talent which one unearths in such a round of 
 visits is worthy of a democratic army like ours — all the way 
 from scientific lectures to vaudeville acts and cowboy stunts. 
 The performances that result are sometimes excruciatingly 
 funny, often extraordinarily good. 
 
 An Enforced Move 
 
 August 30. Our most thrilling experiences are usually 
 of a sort that the censor would not allow us to write about, 
 but we had one recently which I think will get through, as it 
 wholly concerned the Y. As I have told you, our work, when 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 
 
 I arrived here, was carried on in a large tent, our hut being far 
 from finished. This, of course, made the work difficult in 
 many ways; and we have eagerly looked forward to the time 
 when we could get into our hut, which is composed of two main 
 buildings of generous dimensions and several smaller wings. 
 
 Well, a few days ago we had a severe storm, which toward 
 evening culminated in a high wind. It was my turn to sleep 
 in the tent that night, on guard, and I and another of the 
 secretaries were just trying to settle down to some sort of rest 
 — all our clothes on — when rip, tear, crack, the wind burst in 
 at the farther end, and we with the use of our ever- ready 
 light could see the whole thing apparently curving in and 
 coming our way. It did not take us long to get out, you may 
 believe. As we had, earlier in the evening, taken all the pre- 
 cautions I could think of in the way of driving stakes in tighter 
 and adjusting the ropes, there was nothing for it but to let 
 the elements do what they would; and by this time the storm 
 of wind and rain was as bad as ever I saw. Having all the 
 responsibility on my shoulders, you can imagine what an 
 anxious night I spent, listening to the flapping of the half- 
 demolished tent, and the rattling and crashing of its blown- 
 about contents. 
 
 At the first streak of dawn I was up, and soon, by the 
 Major's orders, had all the help I needed. To my great 
 relief I found that our canteen stores (hundreds of francs' 
 worth) had not yet been exposed to the rain, and that the 
 breakage was confined almost entirely to bottles and a few 
 chairs. We got permission to store in an empty barracks 
 nearby the stuff saved from the wreck; and at once we began 
 to consider what do to. It did not take us long to decide 
 that we must move into part of the new hut, unfinished as 
 it was. All set to work with a will, and at 2.30 p. m. we 
 opened the building to the boys and were selling chocolate, 
 crackers, cigarettes, soap, French dictionaries, pencils, 
 shaving-soap, and all the rest of our usual stock, over the 
 counter of the canteen. Last evening we had a band concert 
 and a vaudeville show with such an audience as we could 
 never have gotten into the tent. 
 
ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 This is a busy life: up soon after 6, breakfast (from the 
 men's mess) over by 7.15, and then steadily on the job till 
 10 at night, with not more than half an hour out for dinner 
 and supper. We sometimes sell a thousand francs' worth 
 of goods in a day, and that means some hustling. The result 
 is that the days go by like lightning, and I am having the 
 time of my life. 
 
 Canteen Problems 
 
 September 3. It certainly was a great piece of good 
 fortune that the move from the tent to the hut was forced 
 upon us, for even in our unfinished state, with carpenters 
 hammering all about us, with no glass as yet in our windows, 
 and with a roof that still lacks its protective covering, we 
 are much better off than we were in the tent. 
 
 We now have five women working in the canteen, which 
 makes the schedule for the men a good deal easier; for I 
 have arranged it so that there are always two or three women 
 on duty, and except in the rush hours it is not necessary to 
 have more than one man in addition. This frees the men for 
 their other tasks, which have been much interfered with by 
 long canteen hours. Surbeck can now devote himself to 
 organizing football games, and McMahon has time to practice 
 close harmony with the other members of his improvised 
 quartette, and prepare his stunts of various sorts for the 
 evening's programme. 
 
 We are also working out a system of canteen tickets, 
 which we hope will greatly simplify the money problem. 
 One of our difficulties has been to keep on hand a sufficiently 
 large supply of small change; so much so that copper sous 
 have haunted our dreams. Moreover, to have a man hand 
 in a twenty-dollar bill, in purchasing fifteen cents' worth 
 of chocolate, and ask for the change in French money, makes 
 a rather knotty problem for our amateur counter-jumpers. 
 Probably the Y Headquarters at Paris will in time devise a 
 system for all our canteens; but we have made up our minds 
 that we cannot wait any longer, and yesterday I went into 
 town with our canteen manager and, after getting permission 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 5 
 
 from the District Secretary, struggled for an hour at the 
 printer's office to reach a mutual understanding through the 
 sole medium of French. As I was elected spokesman, you 
 can imagine the agonies we went through. However, we 
 managed to make quite a lark of the expedition, the culminat- 
 ing feature being a delightful little supper served to us in 
 the back parlor of a sort of grocery, a delicious omelette with 
 cheese being the piece de resistance. Except for an hour's 
 walk last Sunday, this was my first outing since I took charge 
 here. 
 
 In the Hospital 
 
 Dear , September 13, 1917. 
 
 Don't tell what follows to anyone whatever, for, as you will 
 see, it is something I don't want to have reach my family or the 
 church just yet. It's nothing serious, just trying, but it might 
 look a good deal worse at that end, with imperfect information. 
 The fact is that I've been on the sick list for a week or so. I am 
 sure I know what is the matter, and I am making steady improve- 
 ment; so you see there is nothing to worry about. I was in bed up 
 at the camp, when I wrote you last, and was feeling "rotten, thank 
 you." I won't go into detail, but just say that the root of the 
 thing seems to be rheumatic — an old enemy of mine, as I may 
 have mentioned to you some time. Well, my experience during 
 last Saturday night proved to me that, even if I could stick it out 
 longer myself, with just having an army doctor come in to see me 
 once a day, I was too big a burden for the other Y men, who did 
 everything possible to make me comfortable, and in consequence 
 were losing too much sleep. So Sunday afternoon, while a big 
 concert (operatic soprano) was in full swing in the hut, I got them 
 to take me out to the ambulance, and bring me to Uncle Sam's 
 Base Hospital. It certainly is a most comfortable feeling to know 
 that over here, when things don't go just right with you, the 
 Government is going to step in and take charge, even of us Y peo- 
 ple. The hospital is fine; good doctors and nurses, and the nicest 
 boys imaginable for orderlies. . . . Spite of aches and 
 pains, I've been having a wonderful time; and if only I can be back 
 at work soon, I sha'n't regret it. Of course, the men here, up and 
 down the wards, are just the same as the boys at camp, and here 
 we have lots of time. Such interesting long talks! They, however, 
 do most of the talking, for sometimes I have not felt like doing 
 more than ask questions and throw in a remark now and then. 
 That is because they are most apt to get talking toward dark. 
 
ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 while I am freshest in the middle of the day. So you see, if anyone 
 asks, "Are we downhearted?" the answer is a thundering, "NO!" 
 Indeed, I am only waiting till my discharge from the hospital to 
 begin to prepare the church people and my family for the idea that 
 I must stay here at least all winter instead of the two months I 
 originally contracted for. 
 
 Censored News 
 
 September 15. Have I told you of our great concert last 
 Sunday? A French soprano, a genuine professional, came 
 with her own baritone and violinist, and gave the boys a big 
 time. They did the same for her; the applause was "tu- 
 multuous." Madame, her mother, had come out to camp a 
 few days before, and entrusted to me a portfolio of clippings 
 and puffs (to serve as a basis for my announcements, I 
 suppose) , many of them copied out in long hand ; yet Madame's 
 absolutely French manner and get-up made it hard for me to 
 realize that underneath she was, as this evidence indicated, 
 just a proud mother after all. 
 
 It gets harder to write than it was at first, with the censor- 
 ship forbidding mention of all the real things. Just now it 
 seems to be particularly difficult, so except for saying that 
 our hut is really very near completion (window-glass the 
 main lack now) I won't try to be newsy, but use this letter 
 in catching up with personal matters. 
 
 Report of Progress 
 
 Dear , September 21, 1917. 
 
 I am ever so much better. The acute part of the rheumatism 
 has cleared up, and to-day, a sunny day after several damp or 
 rainy ones, I am not nearly so stiff. Last night I had about three 
 hours of natural restful sleep, from which I woke up about mid- 
 night, clear in mind and refreshed. This marks a great gain on 
 what has been. . . . Through it all I have never been 
 really discouraged, day or night; and indeed have had a wonder- 
 fully interesting time. I've seen life and death from some new 
 angles, gotten into closer touch with the enlisted men than I ever 
 would have in any other way, and gathered much useful informa- 
 tion about hospitals, human nature, and the Army. 
 I can't get out of the doctor any word about when I may hope 
 to be fit for work. He says I am doing better than he expected, 
 but is a perfect sphinx for silence, when it comes to setting a date. 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 
 
 The Hut Opened 
 
 September 27. Great doings since I wrote you last! 
 Our hut is finished, or near enough so to enable us to call it 
 complete, and give a formal opening. That took place last 
 night, and, as all who were there agreed, it was some show. 
 The hut, the first American Y. M. C. A. hut to be dedicated 
 in France, is double; two long narrow buildings side by side, 
 with connecting passage ways. One side includes the big 
 auditorium and the "quiet room." The other holds canteen, 
 writing-room, lounge (all this in one undivided room), besides 
 office, storeroom, and quarters for the staff. Pool-room and 
 kitchen form still further additions. The crowd at the dedica- 
 tion exercises was beyond description. You may think you 
 know something about crowds, but wait till you once see 
 a really crowded Y hut. It's a great sight. We had a General 
 present for the chief Hon, and some very good speaking by 
 officers, enlisted men, and Y representatives. Also a pro- 
 fessional violinist. But, after all, the real show was the 
 audience. 
 
 The days have been so rushed lately that the men have 
 barely had time to eat and sleep, and this in spite of the 
 fact that we have several new workers. But this addition 
 to the force hasn't affected the hut any, for the old tent has 
 been erected again in another part of the camp, and the new 
 men are running that. 
 
 Ups and Downs 
 
 Dear , September 30, 1917. 
 
 The last day of the month, and a wonderful warm sunny day, 
 more like August. I'm sitting up in a wheel chair, and have just 
 returned from an expedition in it the whole length of the long sunny 
 corridor where my bed is, and back again. I've been allowed to put 
 on my clothes for three days now. To-day I took two or three 
 steps without feeling as though I were going to take an instant 
 header. So you see I have been making real progress since I last 
 wrote. However, I can see that it will be a good long time before 
 my left side gets back to normal use. But the right side seems 
 practically as good as ever; and I expect to be able to do most of 
 my work long before the last kinks get out of my joints and ten- 
 dons. 
 
ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 October 3. My writing in pencil doesn't mean anything ex- 
 cept that my pen is dry, and I can't get it filled just now. Well, 
 how is the sick man? No worse, and not much better. I got up 
 and dressed and hobbled around for several days; but as my 
 temperature still insisted on going up every afternoon, the doctor 
 ordered me back to bed, and there I am. Yet I feel fine, and the 
 rheumatism seems to linger in just one hip, except when we have 
 a damp or rainy day, and then most of the joints in my legs 
 and feet stiffen up. But a few hours of sunshine remedy that. 
 
 By the way (prepare to be horrified), I've had no haircut since 
 I left Worcester ten weeks ago! I must have needed one badly 
 before I came down sick, but never thought about it. In the hos- 
 pital — now nearly a month — there has been no chance; so you can 
 imagine how I look, mostly hair. 
 
 I tried to send a cable to the church on Sunday, asking them 
 to extend my leave of absence till September, 1918. I learn 
 to-day that it did not get off, as the wires were so crowded with 
 official business that other messages could not be taken. I hope 
 to get it off to-day or soon. ... As things look now, 
 I am likely to be shifted from here, when I am able to move. 
 
 Confessing the Crime 
 
 October 9. By the time this reaches you, you will already 
 
 have heard from O , who starts for home to-day, that I 
 
 have been foolish enough to indulge in some of my old antics 
 in the rheumatic line. I am sure that he will have made 
 you believe at the same time that there really has been nothing 
 serious about it — just tedious and beyond words annoying, 
 and that I am now far on the road toward recovery. My 
 chief feeling is that of shame, to spend so long a time in bed, 
 when so much work was at hand to do. 
 
 Several of the letters I have written to you were written 
 here in my bed in Ward 11 of the American Army Base 
 Hospital No. 101, and the reason why I haven't written so 
 much lately has been because the doctor has prescribed as 
 complete idleness as possible. 
 
 I hated to confess to you that I was sick, and hoped at 
 first that it would be only a matter of a week or so; though 
 if I had used my wits, I might have realized that even a 
 rather light case of rheumatic fever would mean a slow cure. 
 I have been splendidly taken care of by the best of American 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 
 
 doctors and nurses. Fortunately, through it all I have kept 
 in wonderfully good spirits. 
 
 I confess that sometimes, especially at the beginning, 
 I got fairly furious at the thought of plans stopped in the 
 middle and work left half finished or barely begun. One 
 thing that particularly distressed me was the fear that some 
 of my Central Church boys would arrive here, while I was 
 laid up, and I should fail to see them. As it has turned out, 
 that fear was unnecessary. To be sure, the first of Central 
 Church's representatives in the Army have arrived, but I 
 haven't missed seeing them. The only difference from what 
 I had hoped has been that, instead of my looking them up, 
 they have looked me up. When they arrived, one of the Y 
 secretaries went along the wharf, calling out an enquiry for 
 Worcester men, and then telling those who knew me where I 
 was. The result was that at the very first chance Neils 
 Forstholm came up to the hospital to see me. You can 
 imagine the delight with which I greeted him and the two 
 friends he brought with him, both Worcester boys. I certainly 
 thought it was fine of them to use their first free time in France 
 in coming to see the home parson in the hospital. We had 
 a splendid long talk about the two great subjects of perennial 
 interest, Home and the Army. The same pleasure was 
 repeated last evening. It was dim out in the corridor where 
 my bed is — just the light that shone through the window from 
 the adjoining ward — and I had dozed off for a moment, when 
 I heard some one say, "He's asleep," and there was Edward 
 Anderson in his uniform and army overcoat, He, also, had 
 brought a friend with him; and we had a grand old talk, the 
 three of us, till just before hospital closing-time. It was a 
 dreadful rainy windy night, and I'm afraid the boys must 
 have gotten soaked walking back to camp. 
 
 Hospital Life 
 
 October 13. Last night was a wild one, a regular sea 
 storm with a gale of wind. I had plenty of bed clothes, and 
 quite enjoyed it, even when it broke through the window 
 opposite my bed. There was a great scurrying around of 
 
10 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 orderlies and nurses; and those night flurries are always 
 picturesque, for they use candles, and the nurses wear their 
 scarlet-lined Red Cross capes. I accuse them of carefully 
 arranging this becoming combination. 
 
 I wish I could give you some idea of our little hospital 
 world, and of some of the boys who are here, or have been here, 
 for I have outstayed several generations. Of course, many of 
 them were just parts of the scenery, like the old darkey whose 
 cane I could hear tap-tapping along the stone floor, coming 
 from behind me, the first thing every morning before daybreak, 
 and who always told me whether his shoulders were better 
 or worse — usually better, according to his report. Then 
 there was the sergeant who had been ordered back to the 
 States, but whose departure was for some reason long delayed. 
 He looked exactly like the Kaiser at thirty-five, and evidently 
 did what he could to aid the likeness by his way of wearing his 
 moustache. His usual remark, as he passed me, was, "Can 
 you beat it?" apropos of some new delay. But he did go at 
 length. And there is McMullen, who came in here for a 
 cough; but as it has been discovered that he is an expert 
 pastry cook and very useful in the kitchen, I fancy that the 
 hospital authorities will be a long time in pronouncing that 
 cough cured. I used to see him quite often in the days when I 
 didn't sleep very well; for his baking is done at night, and he 
 comes strolling along in the wee small hours, a ghostly figure, 
 white cook's cap and apron over his army uniform. I used to 
 learn from him whether the next day's special delicacy was to 
 be corn bread for breakfast or perhaps even squash pie for 
 dinner. 
 
 Lately I've had quite a wide geographical outlook. 
 O'Brien comes from New Orleans, and went to college in 
 Ohio. He has just gone back to duty — a very nice fellow with 
 whom I had a number of interesting talks on war topics, the 
 only trouble being that they were apt to get too interesting, 
 producing a rise in temperature, so that I had to allow myself 
 only brief periods. Smith is from Wisconsin, a region of 
 rough timber land. At first, when he got to talking about his 
 folks and the pioneer life and the log-houses and the little 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE ii 
 
 school-house, where everything outside of home-life centres, 
 I couldn't make out why it all seemed so familiar. Then I 
 remembered the early chapters of Dr. Anna Shaw's life, which 
 I read last spring. Strange to think of almost the same con- 
 ditions existing to-day as before the Civil War — all but the 
 wolves, of which I hear no mention. (Yes, they have the 
 wolves, too, a few of them; I've just asked him.) This boy is 
 of German parentage, his uncles fighting for the Kaiser, but 
 "I belong to Uncle Sam," says he. His younger brothers 
 have always been crazy on the subject of warships, and have 
 carved diminutive ones out of blocks of wood for toys, copying 
 such magazine pictures of them as came to hand. In the 
 early days of the European War these little vessels all had 
 German names, "Kaiser Wilhelm," "Deutschland," etc., for 
 their owners thought that they ought of course to side with 
 Germany; but as soon as the United States broke with the 
 Central Powers, the names were all changed at once, and 
 are now the "Columbia," the "Yankee," the "Wisconsin," 
 and the like — a rather suggestive little incident of the sort that 
 Germany fails so utterly to understand and foresee. This 
 Wisconsin boy has been laid up with rheumatism like myself, 
 only very much worse, and is being sent back to the States, 
 a great disappointment to him. There are, of course, a few 
 slackers here, who hail their sicknesses as a quick safe way of 
 getting back home, but this boy is not of their sort. 
 
 Neither is the cowboy from New Mexico, who has a touch 
 of T. B., and is told to go home and get well, whereas he just 
 wants to be well, and go on with his job in the Army. He is an 
 artilleryman. His bed is next to mine, and we have had some 
 fine old talks (especially in the evenings, when we have quite a 
 while between dark and sleep-time) about cayuses and tepees 
 and round-ups and camp-fires. 
 
 A large amount of amusement has come from a six-foot 
 kid named Sanderson, a marine, of Scotch blood, from near 
 Philadelphia. He is that rare combination, an irrepressible 
 who isn't fresh. The nurses, especially the night nurses, 
 make a lot of him; he half resents and half likes it. You 
 should have seen the way he shot out of his bed and over onto 
 
12 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 mine, when he received a copy of his first letter home to his 
 mother, printed in full in "The Ardmore Chronicle." A very 
 nice letter it was, too. The poor lad is here for mastoid, and 
 I fear has an operation ahead of him. 
 
 I must not omit to mention two of the French women who 
 come in to do the chores, and go by my bed scores of times 
 each day with pails and mops. They are mother and daughter. 
 The daughter arrived late the other day, and was told to go 
 and report to the adjutant: for military discipline extends 
 even to the char-women. He gave her a sound scolding, not 
 only for tardiness, but also for alleged removal of food from 
 the premises; and threatened to reduce her pay. She lis- 
 tened unmoved, and her only reply was, "I shall have to 
 have two extra holidays next month." The mother is a 
 stocky little old Frenchwoman with jet black hair and a 
 close-fitting white lace cap. She and I exchange smiles every 
 time she passes, with appropriate salutations night and morn- 
 ing, and brief remarks on weather, temperature, and the like. 
 She can never get used to my evident enjoyment of the sun- 
 light, which pours in upon my bed through the glazed front 
 of the corridor; and with distressed exclamations of " trop 
 chaud" and " tres mativais," she draws imaginary curtains to 
 protect me from the baleful ''soleil." 
 
 Changes at the Camp 
 
 October 17. I am somewhat at a loss for material for my 
 letters, for the routine life of the hospital does not vary much 
 from day to day. Perhaps you would like to hear a little 
 about the changes which have taken place, during my sickness, 
 out at the camp where I was working. At first no one in the Y 
 realized, apparently, any more than I did myself, that I 
 should be laid up for so long a time; and the rest of the staff 
 at the camp tried to get along without a head, following out 
 the general plan already outlined. But that is a very un- 
 satisfactory state of things in work which undergoes such 
 great and constant changes as the work at our hut, where 
 there are not only tremendous variations in the numbers of 
 men we work for, but also many changes in the staff itself 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 13 
 
 which call for frequent readjustments. Toward the end 
 of my second week in the hospital (though even then I was far 
 from realizing how much longer I was to be here) I told West, 
 the District Secretary, that I thought he must soon put some- 
 one else in my place, or the work would suffer seriously; and 
 not long after he did so. 
 
 I need not say that it was a great disappointment to me 
 not to have been able to continue on the job there long enough 
 to feel that I had really gotten it organized and in working 
 order. The time when I hoped to bring things to a head was 
 when we took possession of the whole hut, and thus had 
 passed from the period of temporary makeshifts to something 
 like permanence; but when that time came, I was flat on my 
 back here. Until my successor was appointed, I had worried 
 a good deal about the way things were going, for the reports of 
 the individual workers, when they came to see me, were any- 
 thing but reassuring. But since the responsibility was rolled 
 from my shoulders, while I have not ceased to regret that I 
 had to leave the job in the middle, I haven't had to worry 
 about it any more. At just about that same time our Paris 
 office, unaware of my sickness, telegraphed me to leave here, 
 and go to the camp at the American Army Headquarters, to 
 take charge there. Of course, owing to my sickness, nothing 
 came of that, but it shows that in any case I should have had 
 to leave my work here unfinished. 
 
 So many other changes of personnel have taken place, 
 that Surbeck, the Athletic Director, is the only man left of 
 those who were working at the hut when I dropped out. There 
 have been changes among the women workers, too. On the 
 other hand, owing to the growth of the camp, a second double 
 hut is being erected in another part of it. Do you wonder 
 that I feel like a back number? 
 
 Sent Back to Duty 
 
 October 25. I am out of the hospital! Yesterday, after 
 the doctor had given me my discharge, I was as restless as a 
 caged bear all the morning, wondering whether they would 
 send the car for me. It is comparatively easy to be patient 
 
14 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 and relaxed, when you know that nothing is going to happen; 
 but as soon as you know there is a chance that something will 
 happen, it is very hard to wait unconcerned for the event. 
 I was lying on the bed with my overcoat spread over me, 
 taking a good long rest after dinner, when Gates, one of the Y 
 men, appeared. He thought, though he was not yet sure, 
 that I might be taken care of at our Officers' Club in the city, 
 which includes a score of bedrooms, a new institution of 
 the Y since I went to the hospital. It is indeed the only really 
 good place in town, far better than any of the hotels. If by 
 chance there were a place for me there, I should be in luck. 
 
 Then came the leave-takings; and, would you believe it? 
 I seemed to feel almost as bad about leaving that hospital 
 and the people in it as though saying good-bye to home or 
 life-long friends. There were not only the up-patients, whom 
 I had known a long time from their frequent passing along 
 the corridor, and the boys in my own Ward 11, into which I 
 could look through the window beside my bed, and the nurses 
 and ward-masters and doctors, but also, since I had been 
 walking up and down the corridor myself, I had made new 
 friends among the boys who were in bed there, pathetically 
 sick, some of them, but all so plucky and responsive to a smile 
 or a word. 
 
 There was, for example, a little New York East Side Jew 
 — born on Avenue B, he told me— whom the other people 
 about didn't like much, because they said he was always 
 complaining. But I didn't find him so. On the contrary, he 
 always asked me first how / was, and seemed as much con- 
 cerned about me as about himself. The first time I got down 
 to where his bed stood, at the far end of the long corridor, and 
 stopped to speak to him, his opening words were, "Oh, go 
 back to bed, go back to bed." He could see that I was rather 
 unsteady, and it seems that he had had a bad relapse from 
 getting up too soon; he wanted to save me from a like mishap. 
 It was humorous and pathetic to see how his face brightened 
 up, when I told him that I too was New York born and bred ; 
 I could see that it seemed homelike to him, poor lad, to talk 
 to someone from his "home town." On his bed, when I now 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 15 
 
 went to say good-bye to him, was one of my copies of "The 
 New York Times" that I had started on its rounds a week 
 before. 
 
 Well, not to be too long in telling it, there were all these 
 new "parishioners" of mine to say my sudden good-bye to. 
 Coming back down the corridor, I met the great husky-looking 
 fair-haired Northwesterner, whom I've gotten to know recent- 
 ly, a fellow who looks to be as strong as an ox, has done hard 
 work "all his life," he says (he is now twenty-two); has stood 
 up with the best of them in the harvesting up in North Dakota. 
 And here he is being sent home with T. B. He doesn't know 
 what to make of it; almost doubts whether the doctors can be 
 right. He talked to me an hour or more the other evening, in 
 that dark period between supper and nine o'clock, which has 
 been so prolific of confidential talks. Good-bye to him meant: 
 " Keep your courage up, old man. Back in the good old North- 
 west you're going to get rid of this, and be as good as new." 
 
 A little farther on, standing by a window, and looking 
 a bit downhearted, is the chap sent down recently from his 
 regiment with some bad skin infection, due, he thinks, to the 
 dreadful vermin of all sorts in the old French barracks that 
 they have been using and in the cook's shack where he has 
 been working. But the doctors are puzzled, and are making 
 a blood test and studying him in other ways; and he, poor 
 fellow, wanders around, wondering what is the matter with 
 him. What can I say in the last five minutes to put hope 
 into him? 
 
 So I go along. I hadn't realized how many friends I had 
 made. The half-well ones in their wrappers (pink, blue, or 
 lavender, a literal "Rainbow Division") scramble off from 
 their beds to say good-bye. The really sick ones sit up in 
 bed, or just reach out a hand from under the bed clothes 
 drawn up under their chins. The almost-cured, who are up 
 and dressed, leave their cards and checkers. Do you wonder 
 that it takes me an hour or more to get away? Some of them 
 ask me to write to them, and we exchange addresses. 
 
 Last of all comes my friend Hand, the cowboy from New 
 Mexico, who has been my next-door neighbor for almost a 
 
i6 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 full month. Our beds have been head to head, so that we 
 have had our backs to one another, and often, when we were 
 talking, each shouting his words off into space down the 
 corridor, necessarily talking a little loud so as to be heard by 
 the other man behind him, people coming toward us have 
 supposed we were talking to them or else to ourselves, and in 
 either case have looked as though they suspected us of being 
 feverish or "nutty." Hand, as I have told you, is another 
 of the fellows who have had the horrid surprise of coming down 
 with tuberculosis. He seems to have gotten much better 
 since he came here; he has long been up and dressed, and 
 hardly coughs at all. But a little extra effort starts up pains 
 in his chest, and at such times I can see that he gets pretty 
 blue and discouraged. He is now expecting word to come that 
 he is to sail for America, and he realizes that over there he 
 will be sent somewhere to a sanatorium for treatment; for 
 Uncle Sam wants, if possible, not to discharge such cases till 
 they are "cured." So he doesn't hope to get back to the 
 ranch and the horses and the folks he knows till "January 
 at the earliest," he says. I think he has selected that date 
 so as not even to think about being home by Christmas. He's 
 only twenty-two or three, by the way. He has been "riding" 
 since he was twelve. 
 
 At last my good-byes are said. Joe, the Italian boy in the 
 Engineers' Corps, who has made such a marvellously complete 
 recovery from spinal meningitis, insists on going down to the 
 door with me, and wants to carry my suitcase; but Gates has 
 it, so he just trails along in a friendly way. God forgive me! 
 He used to bore me a little sometimes, when he was first moved 
 up to our floor, and would stop by my bed and talk about his 
 remaining ailments. Sometimes I played tired, and shut my 
 eyes, to get rid of him. Well, he hasn't laid it up against me. 
 
 Now to the hospital canteen, where I buy a cake of the 
 Pears soap, which I have heard is for sale there, and also some 
 candy and chocolate as a parting gift to the boys in Ward 11. 
 Next, to the Sergeant Major's office to settle my account. 
 Finally, a stop at the office of the Commanding Officer to 
 pay him my parting respects, the genial Major who has so 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 17 
 
 often joked me about being so lazy, shamming sick, etc., and 
 who carries it out almost to the end by saying now: "At last 
 you're going, are you? I hope you won't be coming back 
 again. Only," he adds, "if you do have to go to the hospital 
 again, be sure you don't go anywhere but here." 
 
 And now I am out at the gate, and into that out-of-door 
 world which always looks so queer and new and large to the 
 man making his first excursion into it, after a long stay in 
 the tiny world in which the sick man lives. The automobile 
 starts with awful groans, for the cars we use (and abuse) 
 here are simply fiendish — and fool that I am, I have actually 
 a big lump in my throat as I am driven away. 
 
 I must divide this letter; it is getting too long. I have 
 still to tell of my reception into the world of well men, a less 
 important but rather pleasing part of the story. 
 
 The First Day Out 
 
 October 26. As we drove away from the hospital, my 
 first discovery of changes during my stay there was the fact 
 that the Marines, who have always had the policing of the 
 place, are now acting also as traffic cops. The boy who turned 
 us around our first corner smiled and nodded and said, "How 
 are you, Mr. Knapp?" He may have been a patient at the 
 hospital, or have visited a friend there, or possibly he re- 
 membered me from the long-ago period when I was selling 
 chocolate and cigarettes in the canteen at camp. 
 
 When we reached the Officers' Club, I sat out in the car, 
 while Gates went in to see what the chances were of taking 
 care of me there. This Club is a fine thing. The very best 
 building in the town for this purpose, formerly a private 
 hospital for children, has been rented by the Y. Twenty or 
 more good bedrooms are ofTered for rent, with good toilet 
 and bath facilities. Breakfast and afternoon tea are served; 
 and the commodious parlors are open freely at all times to 
 all officers of the Army and Navy. 
 
 Soon Gates came out to tell me that I was in luck, that 
 there happened to be three vacant rooms, and I could have 
 one of them temporarily without interfering with the real 
 
i8 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 purpose of the Club. Larkin, who was one of the secretaries 
 at the camp "in my day," and is now manager of the Club, 
 was at the door to greet me; and you can imagine my feeling 
 of having suddenly returned to civilization, when I was 
 ushered into a drawing-room with rugs and upholstery and 
 window-hangings and vases and bronze statuary. More 
 important than all this was the fire-place, in which at once 
 for my sake a diminutive coal fire was laid and lighted by 
 Albert, the steward, or chef, or gargon, or whatever he should 
 be called. Soon in comes Mrs. King, one of the older Y 
 women, who arrived so nearly at the time of my taking sick 
 that I had seen her but once, and who now looks after the 
 housekeeping end of the Club, among other duties. She, if 
 you please, has ordered tea, and shortly afterwards Albert 
 brings it in. Never did anything taste so good; but the most 
 important thing was the homelike air of it all. 
 
 While we were having tea, some officers dropped in, and 
 ordered the same for themselves, which was served to them 
 on one of several little tables in the big bow window. I lay 
 back in a Morris chair, and rested till nearly six, which is 
 the hour at which the secretaries here in town have their 
 mess, served in the basement of this building. I had expected 
 to go down to it; but just before the time, Larkin came up 
 to say that the menu for that night was not suited to a 
 rheumatic, so he had ordered a special meal of eggs and toast 
 and cocoa, and had run out himself and bought the eggs 
 and a loaf of French war bread for the purpose. Also he 
 said the mess-room was too cold, so he was giving me my 
 supper in a warmer place, no other than the kitchen. There, 
 when I went down to it, were Albert and a French soldier in 
 uniform, seated on opposite sides of the table, shelling chest- 
 nuts. 
 
 As I was finishing my supper, Larkin came in with the 
 Paris newspapers, just arrived, and we read the report of 
 the fine two-mile advance of the French on the Aisne. Then 
 with Larkin's assistance I mounted the long winding stair- 
 case to my room on the third story. I lost no time in getting 
 into bed, very weary as you may imagine, and somewhat 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE iq 
 
 fearful of the effects of this most strenuous day. I did have 
 some temperature, I think, but I slept well, and by morning 
 was feeling all right. 
 
 Borrowings 
 
 October 30. By degrees I have been collecting my posses- 
 sions, which have been pretty well scattered during my 
 absence at the hospital. In spite of my laying it on one of 
 my colleagues as a sacred charge, to assemble and keep 
 together all my things, left wofully unprotected when I 
 was hustled away from camp in the ambulance, I found on my 
 emerging that most of my usable articles were in use. One 
 man was finding my rubber boots very convenient on muddy 
 days. Another told me that he never could have kept warm 
 if it hadn't been for that splendid sleeping-bag of mine. 
 A third was enjoying the use of my steamer rug. A fourth 
 had made regular use of my mess-kit, and had distributed 
 the pieces all over the place. A fifth, down here in the city, 
 was getting good use out of my rain coat. Besides these 
 articles which were in current use, I had to dig out from 
 various hiding-places my best pair of shoes, my leather 
 puttees, my folding rubber bathtub (when I asked for this, 
 I found that one of the men had been "keeping it safe" 
 under his cot), my private supply of writing-paper, and various 
 other small items. Even the women, dear creatures, had 
 appropriated — innocently, I am sure — my beloved little 
 flag, which has flown over my tent and tepee in so many 
 camps. I found it gracefully tacked up in their rest-room. 
 So you see I have had considerable occupation along these 
 lines. I have found everything now, I think, except a bundle 
 containing my supply of shirts. I had rolled them up in a 
 cloth to make a pillow for my bed, which was the reason 
 why they were not in my trunk. 
 
 You must not for a moment think that this implies a 
 low grade of honesty among my colleagues. It is simply 
 illustrative of a universal army condition. Among army 
 people the practise seems to be generally adopted of "borrow- 
 ing" whatever comes to hand, and even we, who are merely 
 
20 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 "militarized," seem easily to drift into the same method of 
 supplying our necessities. 
 
 A New Job 
 
 November 2. In the ten days since I left the hospital 
 I have improved so much that I feel almost like a different 
 person, and I fancy that I look and act like one. I am still 
 lame, and probably shall be for some time to come. It will 
 not be many days now, I think, before I can report again 
 for active service, and I expect to go soon to Paris for that 
 purpose. All that I have attempted as yet is to give a little 
 help to the manager of Our Officers' Club, where I am staying. 
 When he goes out, I take charge, to greet, and, in a mild 
 way, entertain the officers who drop in here; and if any of 
 them want to rent rooms, offer to them those that are vacant. 
 Albert, the French steward, if he is available, goes about 
 with prospective room-renters; but he has often been out or 
 otherwise employed during my times of service, so that to 
 my experiences as host and desk clerk I have added that of 
 bell-boy. This Y work is certainly varied if nothing else. 
 Even when the manager is in, there are at times so many 
 officers coming and going that both of us are fully occupied 
 doing the honors. 
 
 The Transition Period 
 
 Paris, November 17. For the past week, by way of trying 
 out my physical powers, I have been acting as general utility 
 man in the office of the hotel, which the Y runs for American 
 officers who have occasion to come to Paris. One really 
 courageous duty that has fallen to me in this service has been 
 sending telephone messages. It is no easy task with a French 
 operator at the other end. It takes all my nerve to give a 
 four-figure number in French, but I do succeed in getting — 
 sometimes — the person I want. I even answer the 'phone, 
 but in the hope that when I put the receiver to my ear, I 
 shall be greeted by my dear native tongue. When, on the 
 contrary, it is a torrent of French, I hastily turn it over to 
 one of the French employees, fortunately within reach. 
 
AT THE PORT OF ST. NAZAIRE 
 
 21 
 
 Yesterday I spent an hour in the unusual task of translat- 
 ing from French to English complete detailed instructions 
 for running the steam plant and the hot-water heater in 
 the cellar of the hotel. As we have an American darkey 
 trying to run two very French pieces of apparatus, it waa 
 quite necessary to bridge the linguistic gulf, which I, dic- 
 tionary in hand, attempted ; and I only hope that no explosion 
 will result from my misunderstanding of some idiom. 
 
 I am glad to say that I have announced my readiness to 
 go back to active service next week. I think my health 
 now quite warrants it. The slight lameness that remains 
 will not interfere, I think, nor prove too great a handicap. 
 I have been walking to and from my work here all this week 
 (for I am rooming at another hotel a mile or so away), and 
 I find that the exercise is only beneficial. So I hope that when 
 I write again it will be with a new story to tell, of which, 
 however, I may be allowed by the censor to tell you but 
 little. I shall again be "Somewhere in France." 
 
 November 21. I am ofif to-morrow for active service 
 once more, and am, as you may imagine, rejoicing at the 
 prospect. I am to have charge of our work at the American 
 Army Headquarters. Our first hut there is nearly completed, 
 and there will be one or more others later, besides other 
 smaller enterprises. There are some specially interesting 
 features in this job; and while it is on a somewhat larger 
 scale than what I have attempted here before, I hope to 
 be able to make good. 
 
II. AT CHAUMONT, THE ARMY HEADQUARTERS 
 
 The Y's Field at G. H. Q. 
 
 November 23, 1917. I arrived at my new field of work 
 yesterday at noon, and find an immensely interesting task 
 before me. Of course, it bristles with problems; but there is 
 good hope of finding solutions for them, and certainly the 
 work is important and worth while. The task nearest at 
 hand is the opening of the hut, which is nearing completion. 
 In fact, by a curious coincidence, it is just about as far on as 
 the other one was, when I was forced to leave it and go to 
 the hospital. But in this case no activities are as yet being 
 conducted in the unfinished hut. 
 
 There are three other men here now, or four counting 
 the one whose whole work is superintending the hut's con- 
 struction. But one of these, the one who has been in charge 
 till now, and of whom the boys speak in the warmest terms, 
 leaves for his new field on Friday, leaving but two other men 
 to share the general work with me. Even for the hut alone, 
 that would be a small enough force, but besides that there 
 are other centres of work to open up, for groups of soldiers 
 encamped in the surrounding country; and we are also very 
 anxious to start an officers' hotel or club here in town. The 
 difficulty is to secure any suitable place; for the town is already 
 very well taken up. Fortunately two women workers arrive 
 to-morrow. I have met them, and think they are of the very 
 best sort. 
 
 I feel well, and expect to be well here. Several times since 
 I came I have walked with barely any feeling of lameness 
 at all, which I regard as a particularly good record, considering 
 that the sun has hardly shown itself since my arrival. 
 
 November 25. I have this afternoon made my first 
 visit to two of the outlying stations, and had there my first 
 experience of what mud means to the soldiers in France, a 
 mild experience of it, to be sure, compared with conditions 
 in the trenches, but enough to awaken in me a new sense of 
 what a privilege it is to be trying to bring from the people 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 23 
 
 in the States some comfort and help to our boys, which will 
 not reach them so quickly in any other way. 
 
 Getting Started 
 
 December 2. We informally opened the hut to the boys 
 on Thanksgiving Day, using one side of the building. It 
 had been quite a job to clear and prepare it; stoves to erect, 
 fire wood to be procured, lamps to be installed (for we have 
 not yet electric lights), canteen supplies to be opened and 
 arranged. The lamps, for instance, were not in place on 
 the day of the opening, till just as it was growing too dark to 
 see without them. We had a short Thanksgiving Day Service 
 at 4 and a concert in the evening by a capital man sent from 
 Paris. Also we gave a free feed of coffee, sandwiches, salmon 
 salad, apples, and nuts, both afternoon and evening. The 
 men warmed our hearts by their appreciation. "Best time 
 since I left the States," said one. 
 
 Since then we have been open daily 9 a. m. to 9.30 p. m. 
 with canteen open from 12 to 2 and from 5 on. To-day, 
 Sunday, has been our busiest day, as the men are much 
 freer, so we have had the canteen open right through from 
 12 to the hour of Service this evening. The hut was full for 
 the Service, the singing splendid, and the boys very responsive. 
 
 We are promised a new man to-morrow. I don't know 
 his name, but Mr. Carter (who was here yesterday) says he 
 is regarded as the strongest man in the group of nineteen 
 just arrived. I expect to have him take charge of the activities 
 in the hut, exclusive of the canteen. Also my strong appeal 
 for a chauffeur was honored at once. The rapidity even 
 startled Mr. Carter, who had seconded my request. He 
 arrived yesterday, Conly by name, and will have complete 
 charge of the car and motor-cycle, keeping them in order 
 and driving them. This avoids the constant calling away 
 from their proper jobs of the other men, besides being much 
 better for the machines. For the abundant shopping, now 
 necessary in fitting up the hut, the free use of the car is a 
 tremendous time-saver; and later it will enable me to go from 
 point to point of our growing field with freedom. 
 
24 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 December 11. My days are made up of an extraordinary 
 miscellany of interests, many of them of a very humdrum 
 order, such as problems of carpentry and paint and plumbing; 
 for our hut is still incomplete; and indeed roof, walls, floor, 
 and windows were all that existed when we opened the doors 
 to our soldier public. My task is not the actual labor, of 
 course, but that of keeping things moving by planning the 
 day's work, assigning the tasks, advising, encouraging, and 
 praising, or (as tactfully as I can) correcting mistakes. 
 Besides all this, there are, of course, special parts of the work 
 that I have to execute as well as plan, largely of a diplomatic 
 character, consultation with the army authorities, securing 
 of permissions for every material change or extension of 
 our work, correspondence with our own Y ofiEicials or personal 
 conferences with them. 
 
 This afternoon I made a little journey to carry out a 
 victrola, records, stationery, magazines, and books to a 
 small group of our soldiers camped in the forest eight miles 
 away. The young officer in charge came to us one day last 
 week to beg for a victrola for his men, and fortunately we 
 had one for them, which I took the earliest opportunity to 
 carry to their camp. It was fine to see how this young 
 Lieutenant is aiming to combine proper military discipline 
 with a keen personal interest in the welfare of his men. We 
 were glad to be able to co-operate with him, and I am happy 
 to-night thinking how the seven records we took with the 
 victrola are adding a new bit of cheer to the boys in that camp. 
 
 Fun at the Hut 
 
 December 16. The outstanding event of the week has 
 been two nights of musical entertainment at the hut, given 
 by three musicians sent down to us from Paris by our Y 
 Entertainment Bureau. There was some fine violin and 
 piano music, a truly classical programme, and interspersed 
 with these numbers were French ballads, wonderfully sung 
 by a little French lady, whose skill of interpretation was so 
 great that she could have been fairly well understood even 
 without the explanation in English which preceded each 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 25 
 
 ballad, given by one of the other performers. You should 
 have seen how the boys enjoyed it all. It would have made 
 you appreciate how hungry they get for entertainment, and 
 I am sure you would have envied the performers their op- 
 portunity to give so much pleasure to such a crowded roomful 
 of applauding men. Our having them for a second night was 
 an unexpected treat, due to the fact that they had a day 
 without an engagement and a short journey to their next 
 place. The boys took advantage of their second appearance, 
 to prepare a letter of appreciation and thanks, which, neatly 
 typewritten and signed by representatives of as many com- 
 panies as could be reached in the short time, was presented 
 in the middle of the performance by "Private Brown of the 
 Quartermaster Corps," whom I called forward for that 
 purpose. 
 
 Sometimes I go back to the hut in the evening, sometimes 
 not. There is a hut leader, and I am not responsible for the 
 details of things there. So if there is nothing special on, 
 I often get into bed early, and there write or read. In that 
 way I manage to keep physically and nervously ahead of 
 the game. . . . The week has been busy with a hundred 
 little things — tasks and worries of all sorts. The worst 
 thing is that for one reason or another our workers go as fast 
 as they come. This is, of course, the fortune of war, but none 
 the less trying; for naturally it necessitates much rearrange- 
 ment of tasks, and makes it hard to carry on a definite policy 
 or plan. 
 
 Christmas Preparations 
 
 December 23. For the last three or four days I have had 
 the special pleasure of carrying out bags and boxes of Christ- 
 mas presents for the soldiers in the outlying camps for which 
 we are responsible. Many of these were gifts sent direct 
 to General Pershing, to be given to "some soldier." He has 
 turned them over to the Y to distribute. We had, too, boxes 
 of Christmas tree decorations, so that each camp could carry 
 out that part of the celebration, and a plentiful supply of 
 Christmas carols. 
 
26 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 So over the snowy roads and under leaden skies that seem 
 perpetually to be threatening more snow, I have gone speedily 
 in our little Ford to the different camps. It was great fun 
 to play Santa Claus in such realistic fashion. Some of the 
 things, as I said, were in bags, which I found myself naturally 
 swinging over my shoulder as Santa Claus, of course, naturally 
 would. 
 
 I wish you could see the preparations being made in some 
 of the camps by the officers and men : the tree being carried in 
 by two soldiers, as I saw it at one place to-day: Christmas 
 greens and lots of mistletoe — which is very plentiful here- 
 abouts — being arranged with an effectiveness that you would 
 hardly have expected where there is no woman about to give 
 it the proper touch: elaborate programmes of home talent 
 for Christmas eve and Christmas day — athletic, musical, 
 and dramatic. 
 
 Let me give j^ou an outline of my day to-day. Arriving at 
 the hut, I find things still in a good deal of a mess from the 
 crowd of the night before — the Saturday night crowd, aug- 
 mented by the fact that Bishop Brent of the Philippines 
 spoke. As I say, the hut when I reached it this morning 
 looked like anything but Sunday and church, so I joined the 
 broom squad for a while. Then came a Communion Service 
 at which Bishop Brent officiated, attended by a good number 
 of men and officers. The rest of the morning was spent in 
 assembling Christmas gifts and carrying them to the hospital 
 for the orderlies (the Red Cross takes care of the patients) 
 and to the most distant of our outlying camps. As we poured 
 out our bagfuls of tobacco, games, and packages in paper and 
 ribbon from friends of the soldiers at home, the sergeant stand- 
 ing by exclaimed, " I guess we're not going to have such a bad 
 Christmas after all." 
 
 I got back a little after noon, and lunched, and then took 
 the Bishop out to another camp where we have a tent, in 
 which he conducted a service for the men, and gave them a 
 fine talk. There, also, I left Christmas gifts and at the same 
 time made arrangements to take out to them some enter- 
 tainers from Paris on Christmas night. They (the enter- 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 27 
 
 tainers) are to be here two days, and we are spreading them as 
 far as they will go. 
 
 Back then to town and the hut, where a children's party is 
 in progress, not given by us, but by some of the army people, 
 we merely providing the place. It is for the children of the 
 town, and streams of children from all quarters are converging 
 at the hut; the Mayor of the city is there and the American 
 Commandant. 
 
 I expected to stay for it myself; but as I enter, I get the 
 upsetting report that we are quite out of wood for our stoves. 
 So I climb into the Ford again, and off we go in the twilight 
 to the wood-cutters' camp eight miles away and partly through 
 the forest. For luckily we have an order for six steres of wood, 
 but have to transport it ourselves. The boys who help us to 
 load it into the car tell us that everything is "coming on fine" 
 for Christmas; and as we separate we give one another advance 
 wishes for Merry Christmas, just as you are doing at home as 
 I write, in the case of people whom you are not likely to see on 
 the day itself. 
 
 When I get back to the hut with the wood, I find that 
 there has been a perfect mob of children accompanied by 
 their relatives to the third and fourth generations (reckoned 
 backwards), and the place looks it. So everyone turns to with 
 the brooms again; and in half an hour order is restored and 
 the chairs are set for Evening Service, when one of the Chap- 
 lains is to speak. As I had been to church twice already and 
 had had three long auto rides in cold that made one's ears and 
 cheeks tingle, I didn't stay for the Evening Service, but am 
 writing to you instead. 
 
 Most of my days are made up of a queer miscellany of 
 occupations. Some of the things that I happen to call to 
 mind from the doings of this past week, for instance, are, 
 conferring with the Quartermaster about that wood for our 
 stoves, and with the chief engineer about the electric lights, 
 and several times with the Commandant and the Mayor about 
 a building for our Officers' Club: arranging with a sergeant in 
 the barracks nearby to help us in the disposal of our swill: 
 shopping in the town for lamps, and grates for the stoves. 
 
28 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 and mats: writing and telegraphing to Paris for more workers 
 and another automobile: planning the work of a new worker 
 who did arrive and rearranging the work of the others in 
 consequence: hiring two rooms where the many officers and Y 
 secretaries who turn up here can get a bed for the night when 
 all the hotels are full, as often happens: drawing cheques and 
 paying bills. Oh, how simple life in Worcester seems as I 
 look back on it, where the people in the stores talk English, 
 and the plumber comes with reasonable promptness when you 
 send for him, and the main part of the minor machinery of 
 life seems to run itself. Some days here it seems as though we 
 had to create the whole universe over again from the be- 
 ginning, before we could get a dinner cooked or perform any 
 other ordinary occupation of daily life. Even the mailing of a 
 letter means taking it to one particular place and climbing 
 several flights of stairs to the room where it is given to the 
 censor. And then the long-suffering censor has his troubles. 
 I can imagine what he thinks of me when he notes that this 
 is now the tenth page of this letter. But when he knows that 
 this one is an answer to more than a dozen from different 
 ones of you received this past week, I hope he will forgive 
 me. 
 
 "Noel! Noel!" 
 
 December 26. Here begins the account of my Christmas 
 day spent with the Army in France. In the first place, it 
 looked like Christmas. The snow of several earlier storms — 
 none of them of any size, however, as a New Englander counts 
 such things — was still on the ground, and in the night we had 
 had a fresh fall. When I started for the hut, which is at quite 
 the other end of town from my room, the winding street looked 
 like a picture on a Christmas card. I called out "Merry 
 Christmas" to every American I passed, officers and all, 
 and no matter how high their rank. For that one day a friend- 
 ly greeting must take the place of the usual military salute. 
 And you should have seen how the solemnest faces broke 
 into a smile at that challenge. Colonels called back a cheery, 
 ^'Same to you," just like the privates. 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 2q 
 
 There was a service announced to be held in the hut in the 
 middle of the morning, to be conducted by one of the Chap- 
 lains, and I had expected to attend that, and to spend the 
 rest of the morning helping in the preparations at the hut for 
 the tree in the evening. But, as almost always happens in 
 this life over here, I was side-tracked from what I expected, 
 and set at something entirely different. 
 
 We had with us over Christmas five entertainers, musical 
 and humorous, Americans all of them, two women and three 
 men, all in Y uniform (for the women have a uniform, you 
 know, as well as the men, though not of a military sort — its 
 green and light blue make a pleasant contrast with the pre- 
 vailing khaki that surrounds them). I had scheduled these 
 five for one of the outlying camps for Christmas night, but 
 when I told them about it, I was careful to tell them at the 
 same time about a second camp only two miles farther on, 
 where the boys were just aching for entertainment; and the 
 five promptly rose to my bait, or, to be accurate, one of the 
 women led and the others followed, declaring that they would 
 sing at both camps. So part of my Christmas morning must 
 be spent in going out to carry this good news, and make sure 
 that the necessary preparations were made. Added to this 
 was the news which greeted me, on my arrival at the hut, that 
 as usual the wood supply was nearly exhausted: so I must 
 continue my country ride to still a third camp, that of the 
 wood-cutters, to get a load of wood. There, then, was the 
 better part of a morning's occupation cut out for me. I put on 
 with delight some extra "woolies" that had arrived just in 
 time for Christmas and this cold ride out into the snow- 
 covered countryside, gloves, sweater, and a marvellous woolen 
 helmet. In fact, you would laugh if I should describe to you 
 all the layers of clothes I had on ; and one of them, by the way, 
 was that chamois shirt that some of you have seen in my 
 Rocky Mountain camping pictures, with the bead work still on 
 it made by the Camp-fire girls of Central Church. But, of 
 course, that was well down under my uniform and army 
 overcoat, in company with that new Christmas sleeveless 
 sweater I've told you about. 
 
JO ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 My visits to the first two camps were not especially event- 
 ful, though they gave a chance for many more Christmas 
 greetings. At the second one the boys were receiving their 
 Christmas presents in the fine little Y hut that the officers 
 have given to them there (a building erected for the officers' 
 own quarters). The place was trimmed with greens, and a 
 decorated tree stood in the middle. As the decorations on 
 the tree and many of the presents being given out had been 
 provided by the Y, and we were now bringing news of a 
 "show" in the evening, you can imagine that we were not 
 unwelcome visitors. I wish I might pass on the impression of 
 the grateful and friendly faces to you people at home whose 
 money and other gifts made it possible for the Y over here to 
 give the boys a Christmas something like the ones at home, 
 for, of course, we workers are merely bringing to them what 
 you send. 
 
 We reached the wood-cutters' camp at about half past ten 
 and found them in the midst of the out-door Christmas sports 
 which their Lieutenant had arranged for them, and which he 
 was personally conducting. We could not very well ask them 
 to stop their sports in order to supply our need of wood, so 
 there was nothing for it but for us to do what we decidedly 
 wanted to do, namely, stand by and watch the fun. They had 
 made us welcome from the start, for as we appeared they made 
 quick preparations to greet us in the manner appropriate to 
 the day; and I had barely sung out my own "Merry Christ- 
 mas" to them, when there came back in a hearty chorus, 
 "Merry Christmas, Y. M. C. A." 
 
 They were "chinning up" on a bar tied between two trees 
 when we arrived — for you realize, of course, that their camp is 
 right out in the forest; and the trees all about and the tents 
 they live in made me think more of camping at home than of 
 war in France. The next event was the standing broad jump, 
 made difficult by the snow and the icy ground, which gave 
 but a poor toe-hold. Then came a rope-pull, and again the 
 snow under foot added some special features. All this time a 
 boxing bout had been going on as a sort of side show. And 
 last of all, as a grand finish, there was a four-mile cross-country 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 31 
 
 or through-the-woods race. The prizes for these sports, by 
 the way, as well as Christmas presents for all, had been 
 carried out by us several days before, and again the decorations 
 on the tree were of our providing. So we did not feel like mere 
 intruders, and we certainly were not treated as though we 
 were. 
 
 By the time the sports were over and our Ford had been 
 filled with wood in no time by all the athletes, it was almost 
 noon; and nothing would do but we must stay to dinner. 
 Now to say that we tried very hard to decline would not be 
 true. On the contrary, I was very careful indeed, I assure you, 
 while politely saying that perhaps we ought not to stay, to 
 show the hospitable Lieutenant that to stay for that dinner 
 was just what we longed to do. As soon as he had swept my 
 faint words of polite reluctance out of the way, assuring us 
 that there was plenty for two more, and that, of course, we 
 were going to share their Christmas dinner, we graciously 
 succumbed. While we were waiting in his tent for the food to 
 be brought over from the mess tent, he showed us, with evident 
 pride and pleasure, the presents — three of them — which his 
 men had clubbed together to buy for his Christmas, beautiful 
 things which they had tramped way into town to buy, and had 
 selected with the greatest thought and care. 
 
 Then came the dinner, and Uncle Sam certainly does 
 spread himself to give his boys the right sort of "eats," when 
 the big days come around. I've had no such meal since I 
 came to France. Oh, that turkey! and ah, that turkey- 
 stuffing! and the splendid pumpkin pie that topped off the 
 meal! with all kinds of fixings and extras which I shall not 
 take space to describe. We had to rush away as soon as we 
 had finished, but not before we had paid a visit to the kitchen, 
 and told the cooks in person what we thought about it all. 
 
 I had just half an hour after getting back to town, before 
 I started off on the second stage of my Christmas day ex- 
 perience. This consisted in taking our five entertainers to 
 the Big Base Hospital, and dividing them up into small 
 pieces, as it were, so that all the men in all the wards might 
 receive at least a tiny bit of Christmas cheer from their songs 
 
32 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 and stories. Twelve separate times those indefatigable people 
 sang their carols and songs and gave their capital recitations 
 in verse and prose. At each stopping-place, while the little 
 portable organ was being set up and the performers were 
 discussing, "What shall we do first?" I would go along the 
 corridor and open the doors of the wards, calling out a loud 
 "Merry Christmas, boys," if all the patients there seemed to 
 be up and about, or saying it more quietly if some of them 
 were lying very still in bed. And when I added, "We've 
 got some music for you: shall I leave the door open, so 
 that you can hear it?" there would come back a decidedly 
 American "Sure thing" or "You bet," though often with a 
 Swedish or Italian or even a German accent. Then the up- 
 patients would come flocking out into the corridor, in pajamas 
 covered by army overcoats, or else in those gay-colored 
 wrappers which I remembered so well from my own hospital 
 experience. How the boys did seem to enjoy it, especially 
 the funny stories and the singing of the women : and how those 
 five who gave all this pleasure enjoyed it themselves. To 
 two whole buildings full of American soldiers and one of 
 French they brought Christmas in that way. I shall always 
 remember Miss Horisberg's singing of "My little gray home 
 in the west" and Dr. Emerson's recitation of "Your flag and 
 my flag," when we all instinctively stood at attention, just 
 as though the flag were visibly passing before us. When we 
 left, it was already dark, and I hurried the five away for a 
 little rest and supper before their full evening programme. 
 I sent them off to that in due time in charge of another 
 secretary, and went myself to the hut, where I knew help 
 would be needed. And it certainly was. We had a perfect 
 throng of men there, so that though the auditorium was 
 packed with those who were listening to a fine military band 
 concert, there was still a steady stream of purchasers at 
 the canteen. Then in the middle of the evening we gave 
 each man for his Christmas present a package of one of his 
 favorite "smokes," we men bringing up the ammunition 
 from behind while our women workers handed out the little 
 packages with a personal greeting to each man. One boy 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 33 
 
 afterwards, when I was walking about in the crowd at the 
 back of the hall, said, showing me his package still unopened 
 in his hand, "This is the only present I've had to-day, and 
 it means more to me over here than an automobile would 
 at home." 
 
 When I reached my room in the hotel at a little after 
 ten, I began to realize that except for meal times I had been 
 on the go steadily the whole day long. Bed looked pretty 
 good to me, and I was starting to get ready for it, when I 
 heard from down-stairs the sound of soprano singing. "There 
 can't be two voices like that in town to-night," I thought. 
 And sure enough those entertainers of ours, after their long 
 afternoon in the hospital and the two concerts at the outside 
 camps in the evening, had found at the hotel, on their return, 
 a roomful of home-sick officers trying to make a Merry Christ- 
 mas with very few of the proper ingredients, and had turned 
 to and given a concert to them. No wonder the Captain, 
 in making his neat little speech of thanks, said that those 
 voices from home had done more than anything else to bring 
 them the real Christmas spirit. It was half past eleven before 
 we finally all went to bed, for of course we had to stand around 
 and talk it all over for awhile in the hall upstairs, before we 
 finally separated and went, weary but happy, to our beds. 
 I think it was one of the women who said, what I am sure we 
 were all thinking, "I suppose the people at home are feeling 
 sorry for us because we are spending our Christmas so far 
 from home, whereas the fact is that it has been a wonderful 
 Christmas, one that we shall never forget." 
 
 House-Hunting 
 
 December 30. Since Christmas Day my time has been 
 chiefly spent in further attempts to find and rent buildings 
 for our various needs. The results are meagre, but you have 
 no idea how much time these negotiations take: the French 
 ways of doing business are so entirely different from ours. 
 Imagine me, for instance, entering the office of a leading 
 notary, who is trying to find quarters for our Officers' Club. 
 The outer office is like a picture from Dickens — the shelves 
 
34 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 piled with dusty labelled papers, the quaint clerks at their 
 desks, the bright-eyed little boy who is very busy doing 
 nothing in particular at a table in the corner, but who at 
 intervals gives signs of real usefulness in tending the stove. 
 And the whole place is so small that the three desks and the 
 table nearly fill it. Here we wait for a moment, I and my 
 interpreter, for my French is not equal to complicated negotia- 
 tions, and I have brought with me Mrs. Hall, one of our Y 
 women, who is more expert. The notary is away, but his 
 assistant receives us in the inner ofiice, and the conversation 
 begins. It is all that we can do to hold it to the main line of 
 progress which Mrs. Hall and I have agreed upon between 
 us in advance, and soon I find myself talking English at 
 the same time that Monsieur is talking French; otherwise 
 I could never make any headway at all. That is evidently 
 the reason why French people among themselves seem all to 
 talk at once: it is that or an endless monologue by the one 
 who happened to start first. But by butting in — of course 
 with elaborate apologies — we manage to get on, until some- 
 thing draws out the fact that Monsieur is a refugee from a 
 part of northern France still in possession of the Germans; 
 then one hadn't the heart to stop him. What would I not 
 have given to be able to follow the whole story. But from 
 what I could catch with my scanty knowledge of French and 
 by reading the expression of Mrs. Hall's face as the story 
 proceeded, I could get enough to be swept away on the stream 
 of sympathy, and to forget for the time that this was indeed 
 to be a business appointment. Truly, we do not know what 
 war really means as long as our homes are unthreatened; 
 but to have everything that one holds dear destroyed, and 
 often with utter ruthlessness, as it appears — how do people 
 go on living their everyday lives after that? How does this 
 little Frenchman, transplanted to this distant place, with his 
 heart full of such bitter reflections, go on with the ordinary 
 transactions of business — real estate, wills, lawsuits, taxes? 
 Another little episode, one that would have amused you, 
 could you have watched me in it, took place yesterday when 
 we went through a little furnished house (which I hope to 
 
AT GENERAL HEADQUARTERS 35 
 
 rent for our business office) in order to check up the inventory. 
 It was like taking a French lesson on the words for household 
 equipment. Even my interpreter had frequently to ask 
 "What does that mean?" when we came to some obscure 
 term, which, likely as not, would turn out to be nothing more 
 unusual than a washboard or a frying-pan. The house itself 
 is the quaintest little place, with passages so low that even 
 I have to stoop in passing through. The whole thing seemed 
 more like a plaything than reality. The cellar stairway, all 
 of stone and well worn, was so cramped that the only way to 
 get down it was by going backwards. It was worth the 
 trouble, however, to discover there a small supply of anthra- 
 cite coal, which is about as precious as gold over here nowa- 
 days. Under the first cellar was a second, roofed over with 
 brick arches, a very useful apartment to have at your disposal 
 in case of a bombardment, as the real estate agent takes pains 
 to point out to you. 
 
 These house-hunting expeditions have given us some 
 interesting views of the old city and its buildings. For 
 real sight-seeing I haven't any heart at this time; but it 
 certainly is delightful, as one goes about one's appointed 
 task, to see here a tower that suggests the middle ages, here 
 a quaint doorway, there a fine old church, with bits of exquisite 
 carving or a perfect menagerie of gargoyles. And with snow 
 on all the roofs, and in streets, which for the most part are 
 used by foot-passengers only, so that the snow in them lies 
 clean and white for days, the picturesque element is still 
 further emphasized. One comes back with a dreadful shock 
 to the realization that this horrible War is going on all the 
 time, and that behind many of these very house walls, which 
 look so picturesque, the tragedies of the War are embittering 
 human lives. And America must more and more enter into 
 the bitterness of this experience. The one thing that makes 
 that thought any way endurable is the knowledge that 
 America's sole purpose in taking up arms is to help to put a 
 sure and complete end to all this horror and wickedness. 
 
 Forgive me that I have gotten to talking about the War, 
 instead of sticking to my story. We try not to let our minds 
 
36 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 dwell on the miseries and sorrows of it all, but sometimes it 
 is impossible to escape them. 
 
 Transferred 
 
 January 11, 1918. My life over here proceeds in rather 
 distinct chapters, like a book. Since I wrote you last, I have 
 finished one chapter, and am preparing to enter on another. 
 I am feeling extremely happy over the work that I am now 
 to be assigned to. The plan is that I shall go to the place to 
 which all the American soldiers will be sent for their leave : it 
 sounds to me like a big opportunity. It is not absolutely 
 settled, because it depends on certain decisions and actions 
 of the Army, which may yet quite change the Y's programme; 
 but I think it is likely to go through. It will give me just the 
 sort of work that I like best and feel best fitted for; for it 
 will, I hope, bring me again into close personal touch with the 
 boys, and that, as you have probably discovered from my 
 letters, was almost entirely barred out in the work in which I 
 have recently been engaged. Mr. Carter said some nice 
 things about my work at G. H. Q., in particular about the 
 special thing I was originally sent there to accomplish, a 
 sort of diplomatic task. And in general I think progress was 
 made, though by no means as much as I should have liked to 
 see. Gethman, the new man, who has both the technical 
 experience and the physical vitality that I was short on, will 
 be able to make the structure rise rapidly on the foundations 
 that have been laid. 
 
III. AT AIX-LES-BAINS, THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 
 
 Spying Out the Land 
 
 January 24, 1918.* I feel as though I were on leave myself, 
 my chief duty here at present being to acquaint myself with 
 all the attractions and interests of the place, so as to be able 
 to inform the other secretaries, when they come, and the 
 boys themselves, when they begin to arrive. You can imagine 
 how agreeably I spend my days. I have taken several delight- 
 ful walks. Twice I have started before ten, with my lunch 
 slung on my back in the case that ordinarily holds my mess- 
 kit, and have been on the road for four or five hours. It is 
 doing me a lot of good, I think, and especially is strengthening 
 my left leg, where the worst of the trouble has been. I took 
 shorter walks at first, working up gradually to these longer 
 ones, so as not to overdo. When I get home, my leg is good 
 and tired, but soon gets rested. 
 
 I find that there are good bicycle roads in all directions, 
 which the boys will enjoy immensely, I think, after the close 
 routine of army life; and the scenery all about is delightful. 
 My walk to-day began in thick mist, which meant that the 
 clouds were trailing through the valley bottoms. At first 
 the sun tried vainly to break through; but just as I arrived 
 at the little town which was my destination, the lower clouds 
 lifted and dissolved, and there were the ranges of mountains 
 to right and left, each with a band of white cloud across the 
 face of it, and, below, the lake, its shores dotted with farm- 
 houses and little towns. I have found several good objectives 
 for excursions and a few cafes where "eats " of the modest sort 
 allowable in war time may be obtained. As for hikes and 
 climbs, there seems to be a wide variety. Yesterday, for 
 instance, I climbed up a mountain behind the town, from the 
 top of which I had a glorious view of Mt. Blanc and the high 
 Alps. I had to make the trip on foot and part of the way 
 
 ♦Letters sent about a week earlier than this, describing the arrival at Aix and first im- 
 pressions, and stating in more detail the plans for the Leave Area, were never received. 
 
38 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 through the snow, but there is a cog-railway which we hope 
 may later be available for the boys. It will make a splendid 
 trip. 
 
 The Two Churches 
 
 January 25. You would be pleased to see the interest and 
 cordiality expressed by the French people here with regard 
 to the coming of the American soldiers. Of course, they hope 
 to find it profitable, too; but, besides that, there is no mistak- 
 ing the note of personal welcome in all they say and do. They 
 have responded with great warmth and kindness to the re- 
 minder that our boys cannot, like the French poilus, go home 
 for their leave, and that therefore we want to make them feel as 
 much "at home" here as is possible. I am sure that the resi- 
 dents of the place will do all in their power to accomplish that. 
 
 For instance, there is the Roman Catholic Cure, upon 
 whom I called yesterday. I' attended mass at the Roman 
 Catholic Church last Sunday morning, as there was no Pro- 
 testant Service till afternoon, and naturally did not feel very 
 much at home there, both because the Service with its un- 
 familiar ceremonial was in a foreign language in more senses 
 than one, and because the church was like an ice-box in tem- 
 perature, so that during the hour I was there I could feel the 
 chill from the stone pavement creeping gradually up my body. 
 But the call on the Cure was quite different. I went with 
 Dr. Frangon, a leading local physician, who has helped us in 
 every possible way, and who acted as my interpreter. We 
 were ushered in, through several halls and rooms, to an inner 
 apartment where a blazing fire sent out welcome warmth from 
 the fire-place, and a circle of chairs invited us to sit down in 
 social fashion and enjoy it. The Cure has a genial face and 
 pleasant manner, and received us with great friendliness. 
 I explained that the Y was always deeply concerned to 
 strengthen in every way the religious influences around our 
 boys, and that I had come to ask for his co-operation in 
 serving the Roman Catholics among them. He promised to 
 do everything in his power, said he would try at once to secure 
 a priest who speaks English, will see that our boys are per- 
 sonally welcomed when they come to church, and in particular 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA jg 
 
 will call into service everyone in the parish who speaks Eng- 
 lish, for this purpose. He knew, of course, that I was a 
 Protestant, and I was glad to make plain to him how loyally 
 and heartily we sought to co-operate for the deepest welfare 
 of the soldiers, without respect to difference of creed. 
 
 The French Protestant Service I attended on Sunday 
 afternoon; though I nearly missed it, for when I arrived, I 
 found the little auditorium absolutely empty. It was also very 
 cold, as cold as the Roman Catholic Church had been in the 
 morning, and I was glad that when dressing that morning 
 I had fortunately realized the possibility of cold in the church- 
 es, and had put on extra garments to counteract it. I waited 
 a few moments for someone to arrive, noting meanwhile the 
 severe Protestant plainness and simplicity of the interior, 
 and the great open Bible on the Communion table, where any 
 casual visitor could read for himself, in the vernacular, the 
 life-giving Word. No one else arrived, however; so I went 
 out and walked a short distance along the street and back 
 again, thinking that perhaps the hour of Service was later 
 than I had supposed. The fact was that it was earlier, and 
 also that the worshippers had adjourned, before I arrived, 
 from the cold church to a smaller and warmer room. For- 
 tunately they were singing a hymn, as I again reached the 
 church, and I followed the sound of their voices till I found 
 them. They were about twenty in all, men, women, and 
 children, and their leader, as I noticed with surprise and 
 pleasure, was in the uniform of a French poilu. The hymn 
 they were singing was heroic in its sentiment, and the little 
 congregation was singing it with fervor. Then followed a 
 prayer, and the soldier-leader spoke it so simply and slowly 
 that I could follow it all. Nothing, I think, has made me feel 
 more deeply the suffering and devotion of France in this 
 terrible War, than that prayer did in this little Church of the 
 Open Book. 
 
 Getting Ready for the Crowd 
 
 February 5. I am taking a few moments while waiting 
 for Dr. Frangon, one of our best friends and greatest helpers 
 
40 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 here, who is devoting the greater part of his time to our 
 interests. He speaks English fluently, and understands 
 Americans, having known many of them personally and 
 professionally. I am waiting at his house till he comes in, 
 to ask him to go with me on an errand in which I need, not 
 only his facility in French, but also his persuasive powers. 
 
 Things are moving rapidly here now, or at least a great 
 deal of work is going on ; for the time of opening is now near, 
 and there is a tremendous amount to be done. You see, 
 active preparations in detail could not be started, till the 
 necessary technical and business arrangements, local and 
 military, had been completed. Now, however, the Y has 
 signed its contracts for leasing buildings and hiring labor and 
 artistic talent; and the big enterprise is under way. Big it 
 certainly is, the biggest thing by a good deal that the Y 
 has yet attempted over here, and a brand new task, too, for 
 the American Army, I believe, is the first to attempt such 
 elaborate provision for its men on leave. It involves the 
 taking over of almost the whole hotel accommodations and 
 amusement facilities of two large cities and another smaller 
 community. You probably know the region in which this 
 work is situated and the names of the cities, for I understand 
 that the censor has allowed these facts to be announced in 
 the press at home and in Paris; but we ourselves here have 
 not yet received any official notice that the usual rule to 
 mention no names of places has been changed in this instance, 
 so I am not at liberty to depart from the customary "some- 
 where." As an indication of the scale on which we are 
 preparing, I may mention that in one building which the 
 Y will use here, it is planned to have three entertainments 
 going simultaneously every week-night, movies, theatre, 
 and either a concert or a lecture. And we calculate that this 
 will be necessary in order to provide for the number of men 
 expected. 
 
 We have now a force of ten or twelve Y workers here, 
 men and women, all of whom are very busy; and whenever 
 we are not at work on our own particular jobs, or helping the 
 workers in some other department, we are in conference. For 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 41 
 
 with several departments working side by side for the same 
 group of men, and forced to create the whole scheme in a brief 
 space of time, it is very necessary to submit our individual 
 plans frequently to the whole group, to be sure that each 
 part dovetails into all the others. At the same time, we have 
 to keep close watch of public sentiment here, so as to preserve 
 the fine feeling which has thus far marked all our relations 
 with these cordial French people. 
 
 As one of the longest on the field, I have had the special 
 privilege of aiding a good deal in the dealings with the French, 
 and have been brought into close relation with two or three 
 individuals for whom I have come to feel a very real friend- 
 ship. My progress in speaking French has been noticeable, 
 too, and still more in understanding it. I think I have learned 
 more in the last three weeks than in the three months pre- 
 ceding. I surprise myself by carrying on long conversations ; 
 and although I have a pitifully small vocabulary, almost 
 without verbs, I do manage to get along fairly well. Of course, 
 I get on best in performing certain tasks that have to be 
 frequently repeated; as, for instance, for several days I 
 have been doing a good deal of the work of inspecting the 
 hotels offered for our soldiers, and classifying them on the 
 basis of convenience, cleanliness, location, etc. You should 
 hear me lecturing French landladies on the subject of cleanli- 
 ness and proper sanitation. One who did not know that I had 
 repeated my lecture some dozens of times, in houses where 
 conditions seemed to call for it, might think that I was quite 
 a fluent French scholar. My guide in these real estate 
 excursions is Dr. Frangon, who sometimes arranges our 
 itinerary so as to take in also a visit to one of his patients. 
 Then, while he is inside, I converse with the neighbors. To- 
 day, for instance, it was with a smiling rosy-cheeked young 
 fellow of barely twenty, who has nevertheless had time to 
 serve nine months in the war and lose his right arm in the 
 service. Almost always those I talk to in these chance 
 encounters have some vital personal relation to the world 
 tragedy. If they are not soldiers themselves, they are the 
 mothers or brothers or wives of soldiers. That is the eternal 
 
42 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 sadness which runs through all our experiences in these days. 
 While I was talking to that boy this afternoon, in the midst 
 of a quaint setting of French houses, the last rays of the sun 
 were glorifying a mountain, whose cliffs rise abruptly above 
 us on the east, making them beautiful beyond description. 
 For a few moments, under the spell of such beauties, one drops 
 into the old way of thinking, "What a beautiful place the 
 world is!" and then the thought comes surging back, "The 
 War!" and blots out everything else. These boys, for whose 
 brief playtime we are preparing, are here in France for some- 
 thing very different from play. So, while we are bound that 
 they shall have "the time of their lives," during their stay 
 here, there is always a deeper purpose in our preparations. 
 We mean that they shall go back to camp and the trenches, 
 not only with new vigor and the memory of a happy time, but 
 with new hope, new purpose, and new inspiration for the high 
 task in which they are engaged, and for the perils and hard- 
 ships involved in it. 
 
 February 14. The women, under the direction of Mrs. 
 Teddy Roosevelt, Jr., have been doing wonders, such as 
 cleaning and furnishing two large club-houses, opening a 
 restaurant, bargaining for the whole milk supply of a cheese 
 manufacturer, hiring a small army of servants, etc., etc. 
 The men have been preparing athletic fields, bathing and 
 boating facilities, hiring an orchestra, engaging dramatic 
 talent in Paris, and, as a foundation for all this, arranging 
 the hotel accommodations for the thousands of men who are 
 expected here. 
 
 Besides the preparations for the work of my own depart- 
 ment I have been putting in a great deal of time on this hotel 
 problem, inspecting and classifying hotels and houses in all 
 three communities, and helping to settle the innumerable 
 questions of policy and procedure that are constantly arising. 
 To-day at the Mairie we had a meeting with all the hotel- 
 keepers; and when we were all in our places, the Mayor at 
 the centre of the long horse-shoe-shaped table, five of us 
 secretaries next to him, and then the crowd of men and 
 women who filled every available inch, and breathed up every 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 43 
 
 particle of air (of course, the windows were all tightly closed), 
 I confess that I felt very much as though we secretaries were 
 five Daniels in khaki in a den of French lions. For there 
 were such knotty questions to be solved as, whether one egg 
 should be added to the breakfast menu, how the supply of 
 sugar, flour, and coal was to be equitably distributed, how 
 the men are to be apportioned among the hotels on their 
 arrival, and other questions equally likely to cause trouble- 
 some disagreement. But all passed off amicably; even the 
 question of the egg for breakfast was decided in the affirmative. 
 Of course, we have had many disappointments and un- 
 pleasant surprises. Worst of all has been the discovery of 
 radical defects in the heating system of our luxurious Casino 
 here — the famous gambling establishment which we are 
 turning into a Y hut. It is no easy task to repair a steam 
 plant, when the only man capable of repairing it is in the 
 Army, and has to be gotten home for the purpose by special 
 permission from the War Department. Again, only one of our 
 two carloads of supplies has arrived, and most of us are groan- 
 ing at items that are missing from our equipment: no cho- 
 colate for the restaurant; no cigarettes for the canteen; no 
 books for the library; no magazines or American newspapers 
 (except the ones I've been saving); no coffee urns; no movie 
 films until after dinner this evening, when they happily 
 arrived ; no hymn books except the ones I fortunately brought 
 by hand from Paris, when I came. Two of our men were away 
 for four days hunting in several different cities for various 
 necessities, such as coal, sugar, rice, billiard tables, water 
 heaters, chairs. To-day we have been doing the last things 
 with regard to the ceremonies which will celebrate the arrival 
 of our first permissionnaires , that is, our men on leave. 
 
 The First Arrivals 
 
 February 19. How can I describe to you the work that 
 I am now sharing? The whole thing is so big, and so varied 
 in its detail, that I despair of making you see it as it is, es- 
 pecially as I have once more gotten into the perfect whirl of Y 
 activity, and have barely any time for writing letters. Don't 
 
44 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 worry, though, that I am repeating my earlier mistake of 
 overdoing. 
 
 You already understand, I think, what our work here is. 
 We are at the first place selected as the place for American 
 soldiers to go when on leave, that is, for their brief week of 
 vacation, and the whole problem of housing the men and 
 amusing them has been given over absolutely to the Y. The 
 Army only stands by to aid if called upon, and the Y is the 
 whole show. And it is some show. Although I had had a 
 good deal to do with the preparations, I had not appreciated 
 what a tremendous undertaking it was, till the men had 
 actually begun to arrive. The second day after the opening I 
 said to Karl Cate, the man who really organized and launched 
 the whole plan, "Well, how do you feel, now that your plans 
 are taking actual shape?" and he answered, "I feel dazed." 
 
 I wish you could have seen the arrival of those first troops. 
 Only one other experience over here has moved me as much, 
 and that was the arrival of the troop ships, which I saw more 
 than once in the early days of my stay, but could not then 
 even mention in my letters. Never shall I forget the slow 
 progress into the harbor of ship after ship, each thronged with 
 our boys in khaki, so that you hardly saw the ship, but only 
 the boys. Well, the arrival of our boys here, the first to come 
 for their leave, was as thrilling as that, for they came here 
 straight from the trenches, with the mud thick on their boots 
 and clothes, and wearing their steel helmets, and looking like 
 war; not the neat and gay crowd that thronged the decks at 
 their arrival in France, but men who had been up to the front, 
 and tasted the real hardships and perils of the trenches. I 
 was glad and proud to have the French people here see them 
 dirty and tired, with their muddy clothes and the signs of 
 real service plain upon them, not unworthy to stand beside 
 the poilu in his dingy blue. 
 
 And then to see the transformation. It seemed barely an 
 hour before they were streaming into our palatial Casino, 
 washed and spruced up, with their natty barracks caps on their 
 heads instead of the uncomfortable and ungainly helmets, 
 and already a more rested look on their faces, as though the 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 45 
 
 strain were beginning to let up. Of course, some of them were 
 complaining and dissatisfied, especially that first day when 
 things didn't run very sm.oothly, but most of them began at 
 once to enjoy themselves. We have a wealth of entertainment 
 for them, and this beautiful region, aided by superb sun- 
 shiny weather, offers every possible out-of-door attraction; 
 but the joy that I have heard most often mentioned is the 
 beds. To sleep in a real bed between sheets, and to lie as 
 late in the morning as you choose, that appears to be the 
 height of bliss. One boy said to me to-day (he arrived yester- 
 day) that the bed was so soft he couldn't get used to it: it 
 kept him awake. Another boy, commenting on the same 
 luxury, said that it made him dream of being at home, all 
 night long, "I think I must have dreamt of it fifty times 
 during the night," he said. 
 
 Some of the boys, in spite of all the hard work they have 
 been doing, are off at once on bicycles or climbing the moun- 
 tain on an all-day hike. Others just luxuriate in sitting 
 around. Most of them love to talk, and we secretaries con- 
 sider it one of our privileges to provide them with interested 
 listeners. Their stories must be very accurate, I think, for 
 I've heard the same incidents half a dozen times from different 
 men. Of course, I try to act just as surprised at the sixth 
 hearing as at the first, for the least thing you can do for these 
 boys, who have been up "where the big noise is," as they say, 
 is to listen to their yarns of " the War as we have mixed in it." 
 
 My work in the religious department is in full swing. The 
 second day the boys were here was Sunday, and we had 
 Morning Service, a regular Church Service (held, by the way, 
 in a room formerly devoted to high-class gambling: for this 
 Casino of ours has been almost as famous as Monte Carlo 
 for that). We had a good turn-out of the boys right in the 
 middle of the morning, though a bright sun was shining out- 
 side. In the evening we had our bigger meeting, held in the 
 theatre, with the assistance of an orchestra, a military band, 
 and two quartettes. I confess the musical end of it was a 
 little top-heavy. But as a whole it was a fine meeting, and 
 we'll know better another time than to try to have singing 
 
46 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 indoors led by a brass band of fifty-six pieces! Beginning 
 Monday we have had a daily twenty-minute Vesper Service, 
 and I've been surprised myself at the way the boys have come, 
 from thirty to fifty each day. We have with us as a speaker 
 for the week Dr. Crawford, President of Allegheny College, 
 Pennsylvania, who is celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary 
 of his presidency by coming over here for Y work. Also we 
 have a Roman Catholic Chaplain, a fine fellow. 
 
 In addition to the work of the religious department, I 
 have taken the direction of the Information Bureau, with the 
 assistance of one man and two women who give part of their 
 time to it. For although there are about twenty-five workers 
 here now, we are dreadfully understaffed for this huge under- 
 taking, and each of us is carrying at least two jobs. You 
 should see my works of art on the bulletin boards, announcing 
 hikes, movies, band concerts, and vaudeville, and telling how 
 to get your clothes mended, where to rent bicycles, what to 
 do if you are sick, etc., etc., etc. The Information Bureau 
 is a most desirable station for anyone who wants to get into 
 personal touch with the boys, for there is a constant stream 
 of them coming there for every imaginable sort of help; 
 and out of rush hours they find it a natural place to come to 
 and talk. 
 
 Margaret Deland is one of our women workers, and is very 
 enthusiastic about everything. E. H. Sothern is here for a 
 week. Loie Fuller, the famous dancer, has arrived; and is, 
 by the way, an ardent supporter of the religious services. 
 The three younger dancers, too, whom she has brought with 
 her, nice English girls, already familiarly known to all as 
 Fairy, Finesse, and Peach, bring a train of boys with them to 
 hear Dr. Crawford at the daily Vespers — one of the reasons, 
 doubtless, for the surprising success of those Services. Gerry 
 Reynolds, who has made a great hit with the boys wherever he 
 has gone, has been sent down from Paris as director of the 
 entertainment department, a big job. And the head of the 
 whole enterprise is Franklin S. Edmonds of Philadelphia. 
 
 Yesterday I received in one mail from the family and 
 friends at home fifty-two newspapers and forty-nine maga- 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 47 
 
 zines! It is a perfect Godsend for the work, for no maga- 
 zines have reached us from Paris. Practically everything in 
 the reading-rooms in the two cities is from my private supply, 
 and it makes quite a show too. The five "Saturday Evening 
 Posts" that came yesterday are being eagerly devoured, and a 
 doughboy who is quartered here in the house where I myself 
 live has been reading the February "Century" all the after- 
 noon and evening. 
 
 A Varied Programme 
 
 February 26. We have had a very eventful week, and 
 feel that our venture is a great success. As more and more 
 men have arrived, the town has become gayer, and the Casino 
 has taken on more and more the air of the huge pleasure 
 palace that we have intended it to be. To see its great rooms 
 and halls literally thronged with men in khaki has been a tre- 
 mendous satisfaction, and still more to note the growing 
 chorus of approval and appreciation. 
 
 The roads in every direction roundabout are full of men on 
 bicycles or afoot. In the evenings they flock in for the theatre 
 and movies, and on special nights there is a perfect mob, as 
 for instance on "Stunt Night" when the men themselves 
 provide the numbers on the programme, and still more on 
 the night of the "Costume Ball." This last was really one of 
 the funniest performances ever witnessed. It was amazing to 
 see the costumes which the men produced: American in- 
 genuity was thoroughly illustrated. The French people, who 
 came in to look on, seemed fairly bewildered by the whole 
 performance, and it really was astonishing to witness the 
 fun and high spirits of men who have just come from the 
 hard and terrible experiences of the front, and are going back 
 to them when the short leave is over. 
 
 The only thing that is not joyous about the whole enter- 
 prise is the fact that the vacations come to an end, and every 
 day some of our friends appear in their steel helmets, with 
 their packs on their backs, to say good-bye. How they do 
 hate to go, and yet not one but goes with a fine spirit of 
 courage and readiness to see the thing through. I can tell 
 
48 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 you it's a much harder thing to go hack to the trenches, than 
 it was to go up to them the first time. Yes, you would all be 
 proud to see the way your fellow-countrymen in khaki accept 
 their share of the peril, and also of the hardship which I really 
 think is even harder to face. Mud and wet and cold for weeks 
 together are a severer test of courage than shell-fire, I'm 
 inclined to believe. The spirit with which our men take it all 
 is well illustrated by a remark from one of them, made to me 
 the other day. He had told me how his shoes were often 
 frozen stiff in the morning, "so stiff," as he said, "that you 
 can't possibly get them on." "But what do you do, then?" 
 I asked him. "Put them on, just the same," said he. 
 
 I cannot tell you how proud we have been of the bearing 
 and behavior of our boys while here on leave. Here they are, 
 after months of the greatest hardship and strain, spent under 
 strict surveillance of officers and military police, and then, 
 when they come here, they are suddenly given complete inde- 
 pendence, the only restriction being that they must stay 
 within the ample bounds of the Leave Area; and yet their 
 behavior as a whole has been simply splendid. Of course, 
 some have tried to have the regulation "good time" — once or 
 twice in the evening I have piloted to their hotels boys whose 
 inability to find their way was not wholly due to their un- 
 familiarity with the street plan of the city — but these have 
 been the few exceptions. The credit is to be shared, I think, 
 between the boys themselves and the Y, which has given them 
 such a good time of a decent sort. 
 
 March 17. Since I last wrote you, we have received per- 
 mission to mention the name of this place, when we write 
 home. I presume you already know it from the newspapers 
 or some other source, but it is a satisfaction to be able to 
 say right out that I am at Aix-les-Bains, in Savoie. The other 
 main centre of the Leave Area is the delightful old city of 
 Chambery, about fifty kilometres to the south. When I was 
 down there a few days ago, I went on a hunt for something in 
 the way of a church bell, and found one in a funny little brass- 
 workers' shop near the Castle. I used it this morning for the 
 first time in the call to a nine o'clock Communion Service. 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 49 
 
 During this past week we have provided boat excursions, 
 mountain railway trips, day trip to Chambery, walk about 
 the city of Aix personally conducted, hikes and mountain 
 climbs, a basket-ball game, a baseball game, with formal 
 opening of our athletic grounds, tennis, vaudeville, a play by 
 professionals, movies, band concerts, orchestra concerts, 
 piano and vocal concert, stag dances, amateur dramatics, 
 evening of parlor games. Vesper Services, Sunday Services, 
 Communion Service. 
 
 On one of the boat trips, I was detailed to go along and 
 help. We took two boat-loads of the boys across the lake to 
 a very interesting old Abbey, I'Abbaye Hautecombe, which 
 they inspected. Then in a delightful place warmed by the 
 midday sun, overlooking the lake and made gay by primroses 
 in blossom, we had lunch. Hot coffee and sandwiches had 
 been sent around by motor, and "dogs" were provided, 
 which the boys broiled on sticks over camp-fires. It seemed 
 like a genuine American picnic, and the pleasure of the boys in 
 it, especially in the homelikeness of it, would have done your 
 hearts good. That is a sample of the great satisfaction of this 
 work, the chance to give a rest and a bit of home and a word 
 of good cheer and uplift to the boys who are with such splendid 
 spirit enduring the hardships of army life, and now are meeting 
 its sterner demands with such genuine American courage and 
 efficiency. If only the home folks could see them here, what 
 comfort they would take; to see their boys looking so well, 
 carrying themselves with such manly self-control, expressing, 
 though often in army slang of course, the high ideals and 
 purposes of the nation they represent. They have completely 
 won the hearts of the French people here; and as for us older 
 Americans, who cheer, them from the side lines, we have no 
 words to express the pride and confidence that they inspire in 
 us. 
 
 March 25. The work has been running along smoothly for 
 the past week, and that is saying a good deal, considering what 
 an elaborate programme the Y puts on. To be sure, we have 
 had only moderate numbers of men recently, for we are in an 
 intermediate period from the army point of view, some Of the 
 
50 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 fundamental army plans having been under revision. That, 
 we understand, is now accomplished ; and we shall soon have a 
 chance once more to see whether our smooth-running machine 
 will stand the strain of "big business" and "capacity houses." 
 I have great confidence that it will. 
 
 Have I reported that our evening amusements have been 
 extended by the arrival of a theatrical stock company from 
 America (in the Y uniform)? Besides the full-length play, 
 "Baby Mine," which the boys have hugely enjoyed, they 
 gave us a delightful representation the other night of some 
 scenes from "The Taming of the Shrew." It was interesting 
 to note how thoroughly the boys enjoyed that also. In the 
 same way concerts of serious music hold good-sized audiences. 
 
 On the other hand, it is delightful to see how they take 
 to the more primitive kinds of amusement, as, for instance, 
 the other evening, when a lot of horns and policemen's rattles 
 were distributed just before a "Stunt Night" performance, 
 in order that the audience might take active part in the show. 
 The men were standing around in the spacious halls of the 
 Casino, with their marble columns and mosaic ceilings and 
 the blaze of electric lights, halls where the rich and fashionable 
 of the world used to display themselves in peace times. 
 Suddenly, as the first of the noise-producing instruments were 
 distributed, weird sounds began to be heard in various direc- 
 tions, and in a moment perfect pandemonium reigned. It 
 continued without cessation until the show began fifteen 
 minutes later, and the faces of the few sedate French people 
 who were there were a study. 
 
 Preparing for Easter 
 
 March 30. Holy Week, never more worthy of the name 
 than here and now, is drawing to a close. Not a week given 
 over to the exclusive thought of the deep things of life, for it 
 has been a week of joyous occupation for our boys here, who 
 are having their short breathing-space, after long months of 
 weary training, and just before they may be plunged — who 
 knows? — into the very midst of this terrific battle now going 
 on such a short distance away. There have been excursions 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 51 
 
 and athletics, a big picnic, a boxing bout, music and dancing, 
 theatre and the movies. But in the midst of it all, at the 
 heart of it, a serious note of reverence and noble purpose. 
 I wish you could have looked in upon our Good Friday Service 
 yesterday afternoon, the room well filled, faces that the 
 preacher will long remember, some of the men to start for 
 the front two hours later. When I rang the church bell, 
 they came flocking in in much larger numbers than to the 
 regular daily Vesper Service, answering the Good Friday 
 call; and I could feel their response from the first moment, 
 when I began the service with a word in which I tried to 
 turn their thoughts to the triumph and glory of Christ's 
 heroic death (away from the sadness of it) and so to make 
 them feel their comradeship with him, in the course on which 
 they themselves had entered, and to feel the need of that 
 comradeship. I think they felt it far beyond what any words 
 of mine could make them. 
 
 To-day again (Saturday) at the Vesper Service we had 
 an unusual number — not a great many at that, you under- 
 stand, yet very good, I am sure you would have thought, 
 for an audience of young soldiers at a religious service at 
 five o'clock on a weekday afternoon. And now, in the even- 
 ing, I am looking forward to Easter. The boys are at the 
 theatre, and I have come home to think through my Easter 
 message for to-morrow morning. I haven't had time up to 
 now to do more than give it broken thoughts at odd moments — 
 rather different from the long mornings of careful prepara- 
 tion for such a day in Central Church pulpit. But Fve been 
 busy speaking at the Services of the week, making and putting 
 up signs on the big bulletin board, running the Information 
 Desk, and last but not least building a church. For that is 
 what it has amounted to. 
 
 Up to now, as I have indicated in previous letters, we 
 have had our main Sunday Service in the theatre, a most 
 unsatisfactory place, except that it was the only quiet room 
 which could be warmed in cold weather. Now that the 
 weather is warmer, there is another large hall, set off by itself, 
 which is available. But what do you suppose it is? — The 
 
52 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 great Salle des Jeux, or Gambling Hall, of pre-war days. It 
 is that that I have been busy transforming into a Cathedral, 
 which will be dedicated to the uses of religion at our Easter 
 Services. 
 
 When I was a child we were always allowed to spend our 
 Sunday afternoons in the nursery "playing church." When 
 all was ready, there was in truth a brief Service with a parson 
 (my first attempts), a choir, and a congregation, these last 
 two being impersonated by just two persons, my sister 
 and a cousin; or, if my cousin was not there, we dispensed 
 with the congregation as being the least important, or, in 
 other words, the least interesting part. But the Service 
 was, after all, a small part of the entire performance: we 
 usually spent most of the afternoon in building the church 
 out of tables, chairs, boxes, a doll's piano, the fire fender, 
 and other suitable materials. 
 
 This week I seem to have been reverting to that childhood 
 game, but on a scale truly magnificent. I began with the 
 huge empty hall, rather ornate in decoration and chilling in 
 its general aspect; moreover, with a distressing echo that 
 threatened to defeat any preacher's eloquence. I called to my 
 aid the concierge, the electrician, the tapissier (upholsterer), 
 and the gardener, all among the regular employees of our 
 Casino and taken over by the Y as a part of its contract 
 with the Gambling Association. After that, it was like waving 
 a magic wand. Comfortable chairs were produced by the 
 score from one storeroom ; curtains were brought from another. 
 The indefatigable little tapissier with his helpers, including a 
 French blesse in his uniform of "horizon blue," performed 
 acrobatic feats on high ladders in hanging draperies over the 
 bare windows of the clere-story (you see the ecclesiastical is 
 beginning to gain ascendency). At once the hall lost its 
 appearance of bareness, and instead of the echo, behold, 
 excellent acoustics. From the garden and greenhouse came 
 a wealth of palms and all manner of green plants. A pulpit 
 desk was found among the properties of the theatre: the 
 tapissier, entering into the spirit of the enterprise, presented, 
 "as a friendly gift to the Y. M. C. A. for their religious 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 55 
 
 service," a beautiful cover for the desk, made of rose-colored 
 velours edged with gold: and to complete the whole I found 
 in one of the hotels a large English Bible. Not that we Y 
 people lack Bibles, but they are all the little khaki-covered 
 pocket ones; and it did not seem as though our church would 
 be complete, unless something that at least approximated 
 "the great pulpit Bible" could be at the centre of the whole. 
 
 An organ, also a product of the theatrical department, 
 is at one side of the pulpit, and beyond it seats for chorus 
 choir and orchestra. The chairs for the audience are skilfully 
 arranged, if I do say so, for I spent an hour devising the 
 scheme and trying it out, the scheme being, so to dispose 
 the seats that the congregation will just naturally take the 
 front seats, or at least not the back ones, yet without realizing 
 that they have been cajoled into doing it. If it works as I 
 expect it will. Central Church may be in some danger of 
 having its entire ground plan revised when I get home again, 
 for I seem to remember a certain doorward tendency on 
 the part of the congregation there. 
 
 So now all is ready for to-morrow. Even the hymn- 
 sheets (substitutes for hymn books) are folded, the signs are 
 posted, in my best handwriting (three inches high), the bell 
 is hung and ready to be rung and tolled — and I must really 
 stop writing you about it, and get my sermon ready. 
 
 The Hut de Luxe 
 
 April 5. I realize how much I have left undescribed in 
 my letters, how much not even mentioned. For instance, 
 I cannot remember that I have given you any connected 
 description of our wonderful Casino, " Le Grand Cercle," 
 which is the home of the Y here in Aix. Possibly I have said 
 more about it than I recall, but I will run the risk of repetition, 
 and take you through it now on a personally conducted 
 tour. 
 
 As you walk along the street with me in the centre of the 
 city, you see a building that even among the substantial 
 hotels, apartment houses, and banks attracts your special 
 attention. The entrance, designed like a triumphal arch, 
 
54 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 stands at the middle of a long central building, beyond which 
 are two large wings; the whole is surrounded by trees, shrubs, 
 and flower beds and is enclosed by a high iron railing, on which 
 at intervals are displayed shields (the coats of arms of France, 
 of Savoie, and of the United States) and the flags of the two 
 nations. We pass an American soldier, evidently just arrived 
 in town, and, seeing the Y brassard on my arm, he stops me to 
 ask "Where is the Y?" I point to the great white building at 
 which you have been looking. "That?" he exclaims in un- 
 disguised astonishment. "Sure thing," I answer; "come 
 along with us, and I'll show you around our million-dollar /?«/." 
 
 Inside the imposing entrance, you see on your left a door- 
 way leading to the theatre ticket-office and beyond that to 
 the office of Mr. Edmonds, our Chief Secretary for the whole 
 Savoie Leave Area. But I see you are looking at the big 
 bulletin boards which cover the walls on left and right and 
 overflow onto a standing sign-board which has recently been 
 added to our equipment. There is a section for to-day's 
 programme, and another for to-morrow's. Another section is 
 given over to notices of permanent interest. Please notice 
 the row of soldiers standing in front of these bulletins and 
 considering which of the advertised attractions they will 
 take in. 
 
 We pass on now into the long hall which runs the length 
 of the building at right angles to the entrance vestibule. In 
 it, a little to the right, is the Information Desk, draped with 
 the flags of France, America, and England, and brightened by 
 flowers (hyacinths and daffodils they happen to be to-day). 
 Mrs. Anderson, of Colorado, is the woman now on duty, and 
 at the other end of the huge oak desk is Senator Benson, of 
 California. Dr. Cooke, formerly of Japan, is in the back- 
 ground, making a sign to announce that there will be an 
 athletic meet to-morrow afternoon. The mail-box for the 
 letters of the Y staff is on one side, and under the capacious 
 desk, if we who are in charge of this department are willing 
 to confess it, is a horrible collection of baseball bats and tennis 
 rackets, a violin, a box of costumes used in last night's show, 
 an overcoat that some soldier has asked us to keep for him, 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 55 
 
 and various other odds and ends; for whatever has no other 
 abiding-place is Hable to be deposited with "Information." 
 Turning now to the right, you pass a large coat room ; and 
 beyond a doorway and a corridor (where we have many war 
 maps and maps of this region displayed) you reach the beauti- 
 ful reading-room and library, a quiet place, well supplied now 
 with literature. Upstairs near the reading-room is the Chap- 
 lains' room (where I wrote the first part of this letter, with a 
 very bad pen) and up another flight are the movie man's repair- 
 rooms, the photographer's dark-room, and other work-rooms 
 of that sort. 
 
 Descending and partly retracing our steps, we reach the 
 spacious foyer of the theatre, and then the theatre itself, 
 most complete in auditorium and stage. It seats nearly a 
 thousand. The foyer now holds four of our eight billiard 
 tables, and it opens out on the terrace, which is a delightful 
 place on a sunny day. A daily French class meets there 
 afternoons. Next to the foyer is the large Movie Hall, used 
 also for lectures, as, for instance, one this evening, after 
 Evening Service (it is Sunday now — April 7) on "What 
 America is Doing in the War" by our Chief Secretary, Mr. 
 Edmonds. On the other side of the Movie Hall is the restau- 
 rant. All of these rooms are very high, with marble columns, 
 arched or domed ceilings decorated with rich mosaics, stained 
 glass windows, frescoes, handsome draperies, and innumerable 
 electric lights. Along one side of the restaurant is the canteen, 
 in what was formerly the bar. 
 
 In the corridor outside of the restaurant are the rest of the 
 billiard tables. And now we have reached the part of the 
 building formerly devoted to gambling, for, as you know, this 
 was a second Monte Carlo. By a strange turn of fate, in 
 which we have gleefully co-operated, you have also come now 
 to the part of the building which at present, under the Y 
 regime, is used for religious purposes. The small room which 
 you next enter, capable of holding a hundred people, is where 
 we hold our smaller Services, such as daily Vespers, the Sunday 
 Morning Service, and the Communion Service. A glass door 
 separates it from the former bar, and indeed the words "Royal 
 
56 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 Bar" appear on the glass. A door on the opposite side of the 
 room leads into the grand hall which I described to you a 
 week ago in my Easter letter, the great gambling hall that we 
 have transformed into a church for our larger meetings. 
 
 This very inadequate description will at least give you 
 some notion of the splendid building we have to work in. 
 
 While the Germans Still Advanced 
 
 April 15. Knowing the general war situation, you will 
 understand without my telling you that our particular part of 
 the Y work is quite out of gear at present. We hope and 
 expect that these conditions are temporary and will be of 
 brief duration, but meantime it would have been wrong to 
 keep here the whole of our very large force (fifty or more), 
 doing nothing. So two-thirds of them are scattering, and 
 only enough are being retained to keep the organization 
 intact, and make it possible to reconstitute the whole on 
 twenty-four hours' notice. In general, the plan is to hold 
 here the whole business force, the heads of the various de- 
 partments (athletic, entertainment, religious, women's work), 
 and a few other workers. This reduced staff includes Mrs. 
 Deland, the authoress; Miss Annable, a treasure; Miss O'Con- 
 nor, one of our best executives; Miss Saltonstall, the sole 
 survivor of the theatrical stock company. Of the men, there 
 are Carrell, the athletic director, a host in himself; Guy 
 Maier, a talented musician, in the entertainment department; 
 Snediker, another out-door man; Messrs. Howarth, Sten- 
 burg, and Martin, of the business department; Mr. Bond, our 
 theatrical manager; Dr. Cooke, who works with me and 
 in the main office; and myself. Mr. Edmonds, our chief, will 
 be here every other week; and Frank Smith will take charge 
 in his absence. We shall greatly miss those who are now 
 leaving, and I regret especially the loss of Dr. Denison, who 
 has given the boys no end of pleasure with his car, and whose 
 talks and sermons have been an inspiration to us all. 
 
 For the few soldiers who are on duty here and the small 
 numbers of others who are sent here on leave even under 
 present conditions, we must keep up some sort of pro- 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 57 
 
 gramme, indoors and out. As our professional vaudeville 
 artists have been temporarily dismissed, and the stock com- 
 pany now goes "on the road," and there will be of course little 
 talent among the men to fall back upon, we must bestir our- 
 selves, those of us who remain, to invent and provide the 
 amusement needed. Each of us is thinking what he or she 
 can contribute, or how we can combine to produce something. 
 
 A Visit to Grenoble 
 
 April 29. I may have mentioned in an earlier letter that 
 ten days ago some of us drove about fifty miles to a place 
 where a small group of American soldiers is stationed, to 
 carry canteen supplies and see just what chance there was 
 for helping the boys there. We found then that Sunday is 
 the best day to visit them, as they are free on that day, so 
 we planned to go the next time on a Sunday, and yesterday 
 we carried out that plan. We arranged the party so as to 
 include one of the women, and happily it occurred to me that 
 it would be fine to have some refreshments which she could 
 serve, thus giving a sort of homelike touch to the whole. 
 That proved to be a most popular feature of our visit. 
 
 We felt complimented that when the sergeant announced 
 in the morning that some of the Y people from Aix would 
 visit them that day and would hold a religious Service before 
 midday mess, every single man in the outfit stayed in barracks 
 to receive us. Of course, the main thing that this indicated 
 was their hunger for contact with some of their fellow-country- 
 men besides those of their own group— for they are quite 
 alone there, among French soldiers — but whatever the reason, 
 it was delightful to us to feel that our visit was anticipated 
 with such pleasure. 
 
 We had gotten up that morning at six-thirty so as to make 
 an early start from Aix, and had driven through what would 
 have been glorious scenery, could we have seen it; but the 
 clouds came rolling down the valley soon after we started, 
 and we were in them until near our destination, when by a 
 steep zig-zag descent we came down from the mountains into 
 the broad valley where the city lies. 
 
58 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 The boys there have their luncheon very early, so we had 
 just time to get the stuff out of the car and arrange for heating 
 up the chocolate we had brought (already mixed in a big urn), 
 when it was time to begin the Service. It was held right in 
 the barracks, the men sitting on benches beside a long central 
 table or on the ends of their bunks on either side. We had 
 no piano or other musical instrument, but one of the boys 
 started the hymns, and they went pretty well. (Sometimes 
 on such occasions there is nothing for it but for me to start 
 the tune myself. It scares me most out of my wits, and the 
 result is usually a key way up, or way down, but it "goes," 
 like many other makeshifts in war days.) 
 
 Already the boys had shown plainly how glad they were 
 to see us, and their faces lighted up still more when they heard 
 that there was to be a sort of "party" right after mess. 
 While they were eating — it took them only about fifteen 
 minutes to put it down — we got things ready. Mrs. Anderson, 
 our woman-worker, one of our best, invaded the French mess 
 shack, and charmed the French cook, so as to expedite the 
 heating of the chocolate. She stood over it, stirring vigorously 
 to keep it from burning. An ofhcer (French) came in during 
 the process, and she said his face, on seeing a woman so much 
 at home there, was a study. He soon recovered his equanim- 
 ity, however, and did the honors in true French style, among 
 other things insisting on her sampling each article of food 
 that the boys were getting, soup, meat, and mashed potatoes, 
 all very good, she says. 
 
 When the boys came back from their lunch they found 
 spread out on the table a free treat in the way of cigarettes, 
 chocolate almond bars, sweet crackers, and chewing gum, all 
 of which (except the last item) were bought for them with 
 money sent to me for some such purpose. The giver would 
 have been pleased, I am sure, to see the happy look on the 
 boys' faces at hearing that this was all a gift to them "from 
 the folks back home." 
 
 Soon Mrs. Anderson was serving the chocolate, that is, 
 she turned the faucet of the urn while the boys held the big 
 cups from their mess-kits under it. Meantime the victrola 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA sg 
 
 (a gift from the Y) had been started in a far corner of the 
 barracks, "our favorite tune" as one of them said, laughing. 
 I went over to hear it, and found that it was a song of many 
 verses with a chorus to the effect that "Another little drink, 
 another little drink, another little drink, won't do us any 
 harm." This seemed so appropriate to the occasion (with 
 perhaps a change of beverage from that intended by the 
 author) that I made the boys bring it up next to the chocolate 
 urn, and give it over again, while Mrs. Anderson supplied 
 them with their second round. 
 
 Meantime our "chauffeurette," the little French girl who 
 drives our Ford touring-car, was sewing a loose chevron onto 
 a coat sleeve for one of the sergeants, just to prove that in 
 spite of her short-clipped hair and generally boyish appearance, 
 and her man's job, she had not neglected old-fashioned woman- 
 ly accomplishments. The boys stood around in a circle two- 
 deep to see her do it, and to hear her talk English with the 
 delicious French accent that she has. Around Mrs. Anderson 
 was a still larger circle, and we men had smaller groups, telling 
 us about their work and their experiences in other parts of 
 France and on the journey over. I ought to mention that 
 when it was discovered that we had arrived with a flat tire, 
 about a dozen men combined to replace it in record time. 
 
 Before we left, several of the older men took occasion to 
 say to me that it meant a lot to the whole bunch to have us 
 come, gave them new courage to go on with a rather hard 
 and trying job.* And indeed, we could feel for ourselves that 
 the whole place seemed to change in an indefinable but very 
 apparent manner while we were there. I don't know when we 
 have had a chance to do anything that seemed more worth 
 while. 
 
 Play Time and Train Time 
 
 May 6. I may have told you already that the keeping of 
 the "Log" is one of my jobs, an outgrowth of my management 
 of the Information Desk and bulletin boards. The record 
 
 *Work in a "gas" factory. 
 
6o ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 in it reminds me that this week, as usual, the boys went on a 
 picnic one day to the regular picnic place across the lake. 
 We were reduced to row-boats, for the motor-boat was not 
 available. It is a stiff row, chiefly because the boats are big old 
 tubs, and it certainly seems as though the boys were working 
 for their fun. Nevertheless they had a baseball game after 
 they had eaten their lunch, and in the evening at the Casino 
 were keen for a dance. 
 
 On another day there was a trip to the top of one of the 
 mountains, where there is a hotel kept by a Scotch lady who 
 is noted for the hot biscuits she makes (in spite of war restric- 
 tions). When autos are available it is an easy trip, fairly 
 luxurious. But this time bicycles had to be substituted, aided 
 by a lift on the railroad to the mountain's base. It was a long 
 up-grade from there, and a few dropped out and gave it up; 
 but those who persevered and sampled the biscuits and other 
 good things to eat, and then had the glorious long coast home, 
 were so delighted with their outing that they declared they 
 were going to do it again before their leave was up. We have 
 had two baseball games in the week; and another one was 
 scheduled for Sunday afternoon, but was prevented by rain. 
 For Stunt Night this past week we had a new feature, a min- 
 strel show which was really capital. We have one natural 
 comedian in our own staff, Henry Carrell, and at that time 
 there happened to be several soldiers here who were great fun- 
 makers. 
 
 You can see by all this that the boys by no means spend 
 their time in idleness. On the other hand, there are some, of 
 course, who need and greatly enjoy the opportunity to rest. 
 They spend much time in the library, especially in the capa- 
 cious leather arm-chairs. Sometimes you can see one of them 
 who has fallen asleep there. They have even been known to 
 break the customary quiet of that apartment by loud snoring. 
 Many of them, even those who go in for plenty of exercise, do 
 not get around till late in the morning; and a few, who have 
 come here more tired than the rest, spend the best part of their 
 first days in bed. One chap, who stopped here for a chat since 
 I began this letter (I'm at the Information Desk), said he 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 6i 
 
 seemed to be getting more sleepy each day instead of less so, 
 the result, I suppose, of a long period of broken sleep. 
 
 Sunday was a busy day. There was Communion at 9 
 o'clock, conducted by one of my colleagues, a high-church 
 Episcopalian. The Morning Service was in my hands, and 
 I was particularly glad to have a good representation of the 
 boys there, for I'd had a message taking shape in my mind 
 that I wanted to get across to them. There are many things 
 that take on a new aspect over here, perhaps not so much new 
 truths, but certainly truths that, if old as the gospel, seem new 
 in the fierce bright light that to-day shines upon them. A 
 man who is trying to preach the truth of Christianity in these 
 days wants more than ever before to get right to the heart of 
 the thing and speak it out plainly. In the evening we had a 
 Song Service, sitting around in a circle in the library, and I 
 read to them from Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables" that 
 wonderful story of Jean Valjean and the good bishop. 
 
 Many of the things we do I do not speak of, because they 
 happen so often that one forgets to mention them, like eating 
 one's meals. There is, for instance, the bidding good-bye to the 
 out-going groups. This takes place almost every day, and yet 
 there is perhaps nothing that speaks more eloquently of the 
 work here than that daily event. As many of us as can do so 
 go down to the station, and day after day it is the same story, 
 yet always new. There are usually a few of the boys who have 
 been particularly prominent in the week's pleasures and who 
 of course stand out prominently in the departing group. Up 
 to the last minute the jolly ones are cracking their jokes as 
 they lean from the car windows, or skylarking on the platform 
 till just as the train moves. But almost always there is 
 another look in their faces besides the smiles, which tells us 
 that they are genuinely sorry to go, that they feel they are 
 leaving friends. Some of them succeed in expressing what 
 many are evidently feeling, though more often by the grip 
 of their hands, as they say good-bye, than by words. The 
 farewell is usually prolonged, for there is always a lot of 
 baggage from a connecting train to be put aboard the boys' 
 train after it comes in. At length, however, there is the shrill 
 
62 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 whistle that nearly deafens us, and the train starts. All the 
 boys are hanging out of the windows, waving hats and hand- 
 kerchiefs. We on the platform make our way to the very end 
 and even a little way out into the yard among the switches and 
 signals, and wave and wave till the train turns the curve, and 
 disappears. You might think it would get to be an old story, 
 doing it day after day, but it doesn't, even for those of us who 
 are most regularly there. And I'm sure the boys are glad of the 
 send-off, this final assurance that they are leaving friends be- 
 hind. I fancy that the sight of those figures waving as long 
 as they can be seen, especially the women, some of whom are 
 always there — indeed all who are not definitely on duty else- 
 where — makes a picture in the boys' memories that does not 
 soon fade out. 
 
 Adventures in High Life 
 
 May 14. I have had my first personal introduction to 
 royalty! As the season advances — and just now the country 
 here is a perfect paradise — more and more civilian visitors 
 come to Aix, among them many titled personages. If we 
 had time, we might have luncheon or afternoon tea with a 
 different "lady" or "princess" several times a week. And 
 it is a great mixture of nationalities, English, French, Italian, 
 Serbian, Belgian, and American, for a number of these titled 
 ladies were born in the U. S. A. It was with some difficulty 
 that we adjusted ourselves to the strain of hobnobbing with 
 the nobility, but we had barely gotten used to that, when 
 royalty arrived, in the person of the sister of the King of Bel- 
 gium, the Duchess of Vendome, accompanied by her husband, 
 the Duke (French), and her young daughter, the Princess. 
 
 My own first encounter with these personages was at the 
 formal opening of the Tennis Club of Aix, to which the Y 
 staff was invited. We regarded it as a diplomatic necessity 
 to be represented, and I was one of those detailed to that duty. 
 We were told in stage whispers, after our arrival, that the 
 Duchess of Vendome was there, and, after being told where 
 she was seated, managed to glance at her occasionally in our 
 politest manner. We supposed that that was as far as we 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 63 
 
 should get, and were still more sure that the excitement was 
 all over, when at length she and her party rose and went out. 
 But in a moment she was back again, apparently to speak to 
 Lady Strafford, at whose table we were sitting. It was some- 
 thing of a shock to see Lady Strafford make a low curtsey, 
 and I was scared to death for fear our Y women would try the 
 same thing on the spur of the moment, and probably tumble 
 over. Before we knew what had happened, we had been 
 presented. I, as it chanced, was the first of the men, and was 
 really glad that I didn't know what I was meant to do with 
 her hand, when she held it out to me. As it was, I could just 
 shake it, with a perfectly clear conscience; and the Duchess 
 did not seem upset by such plebeian treatment. 
 
 But the way these people play their game is really im- 
 pressive. The Duchess, then and later at the Casino, asked 
 such appropriate and intelligent questions that you could see 
 she had been carefully "primed" in advance. I suppose there 
 is always someone at her elbow to see that she has the right 
 information at the right moment. You can imagine my sur- 
 prise, however, when, as I was presented, she said, "And you 
 have been here since the middle of January?" True, and 
 of me only among the Y people present. Aren't they clever? 
 
 The Lady Strafford, of whom I speak, was originally an 
 American, from Louisiana, I believe. She is an entertaining 
 talker; and, as she has seen many prominent Englishmen at 
 close range, she gives a very interesting view of recent events. 
 It is really curious to see the group of American women here 
 now — just visitors at the hotels, you understand — who have 
 married foreigners of wealth or rank and title. There is even 
 a princess among them. In fact, I have been hobnobbing so 
 much with the high and mighty that I may find it difficult to 
 put up with plain Miss and Mrs. I have actually been so 
 bold as to decline an invitation from a princess, not the 
 American one, to afternoon tea: it conflicted with my period 
 at the Information Desk in the Casino. 
 
 May 18. As a sort of international courtesy shown by 
 America to her ally Belgium, it seemed fitting to invite the 
 Duchess of Vend6me to attend a performance of our Parisian 
 
64 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 vaudeville in the Casino; and having ascertained that this 
 would be acceptable to Her Royal Highness (I think that 
 is the correct title to apply), we invited her for Wednesday 
 evening. 
 
 The boys were told, of course; and almost all who are 
 here, even those who had seen the show (on the stage) already, 
 went to see how royalty looks and acts in a theatre box. We 
 Americans are always amusing under such circumstances, for, 
 trying to treat titled people in somewhat the way to which 
 they are accustomed, and at the same time in the way in which 
 we ourselves are accustomed to treat people, we usually make 
 more or less of a mess of it. However, we get a good deal of 
 fun out of the performance, and probably our victims do, 
 also. 
 
 The box in the theatre was decorated with flags, and the 
 one opposite also, occupied by the American and French Com- 
 mandants. A delegation of us Y people met the party at the 
 door. The women did not curtsey, and the men did not kiss 
 the Duchess's hand; but we tried to be polite in a more or- 
 dinary way, and at any rate we succeeded in getting safely 
 into the theatre. 
 
 Of course, it was necessary to begin with the Belgian 
 National Anthem (we had been warned, or I fear not one of 
 us would have recognized it) and then the Marseillaise and 
 the Star Spangled Banner, everyone standing. Those of us in 
 the box with the royal party had been warned that we must not 
 sit down unless asked to do so by the Duchess; and we thought 
 how tiresome, if she should forget to look behind her and see 
 what we were doing. But she was right on her job, and we 
 were seated at once. In fact, all through the evening one 
 could not but note with admiration how constantly on the alert 
 she was to do the courteous and considerate thing. There is 
 no doubt about it, these royal people have to repay in full all 
 the formal courtesies by which they are surrounded. I could 
 not help thinking how tired she must be, saying polite and 
 enthusiastic things about each act of the vaudeville, talking 
 to each in turn, acknowledging every attention, etc., etc. 
 Although I was seated almost directly behind her, she re- 
 
IN THE FIRST LEAVE AREA 65 
 
 membered all through the performance to turn around about 
 once in so often, to address some remark to me. Even while 
 one is glad that America has no titled aristocracy, at least one 
 must admit the thoroughness and success with which in 
 Europe the aristocrats "play the game." 
 
 Unhappily for us, we had been coached in some points of 
 speech and behavior, with the result, of course, that more 
 than usual we did the things we were warned not to do. For 
 instance, you must not use the word "you" in addressing 
 royalty, but must say, "Will Your Royal Highness do this?" 
 or "Does Your Royal Highness think that?" It was like 
 the old days when we were learning to ride a bicycle, and 
 found that the harder we tried to steer away from a stone or 
 a post, the surer we were to run into it. I never heard so 
 many "yous" in my life. It seemed as though there were no 
 sentences in the English language which did not contain that 
 fatal word. 
 
 I had some special agonies of my own, for beside me sat 
 a lady in waiting (at least I think that is what she was) who 
 spoke no English; and I had to inflict upon her my hopeless 
 French, a series of inane exclamations for the most part, 
 about the French blesses, the American soldiers, the admira- 
 tion of America for Belgium, and the beauties of Aix-les- 
 Bains. I thought she winced once or twice at some of my 
 most atrocious attempts, but in the main she displayed 
 extraordinary composure under great provocation. 
 
 After the show was over, the Duchess, the little Princess, 
 and the rest remained to see the "Games" which frequently 
 close our evening's entertainment. You can imagine that 
 it is a lively performance when forty or fifty husky boys 
 "get going." The best description I have heard was that of 
 an English lady who visited us a short time ago. She said 
 that while looking on she kept thinking of Rubens's picture, 
 "Lions at Play." 
 
 I am afraid this is a very frivolous epistle to write from 
 so near the scene of the most momentous campaign of history. 
 But we learn more and more that war, like the circus, has 
 some queer side shows. 
 
66 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 Learning More New Tricks 
 
 May 27. I have added another activity to the long list 
 that I have reported to you from time to time, I mean in 
 addition to my main job. I wish I had kept a complete list, 
 just to prove what a "broadening" experience this Y work 
 in France is. Well, my latest has been censoring vaudeville 
 shows. Our bill here changes once a week now, and I am 
 one of a committee of three to sample the new acts and pro- 
 nounce upon them. Last Friday evening, therefore, when 
 the new bill went on, we attended the performance from be- 
 ginning to end — and pronounced it all excellent. What would 
 my Puritan ancestors or my revered predecessor of fifty years 
 ago in Central Church say about this? Not only attending 
 theatrical shows (far from Shakesperian in character) but 
 actually approving of them. 
 
 On Sunday afternoons we have recently started a new 
 custom which is proving very popular. The women of the 
 Y invite all the soldiers to be their guests on the terrace of 
 the Casino between four and seven. Refreshments are served, 
 and the orchestra plays. The women are scattered about and 
 form the centres for the groups of men, who seem to enjoy 
 thoroughly the homelike air of it all. The place is so quiet and 
 beautiful, overlooking the lovely gardens of our Casino, that 
 it is hard to realize that a war is going on. And of course that 
 is just the way we want to make the men feel. 
 
 June 4. We have been very busy again lately. There is 
 as much to do here now as there was in the middle of March, 
 but with half as many Y workers as we had then, so that we 
 have had to double up a good deal. I, for instance, am taking 
 charge of several of the regular daytime excursions, such as 
 the trip about the city ("Seeing Aix"), the bicycle trip to 
 the Gorges de Sierroz, and one of the trips up Mt. Revard 
 by the cog-railway. I enjoy that sort of work tremendously. 
 All along I have gone on trips with the boys as often as 
 possible, so that now I am merely doing regularly what I 
 have done occasionally before. It would amuse you to follow 
 me about on the "Seeing Aix" trip. We visit first the Roman 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 67 
 
 arch and other remains of classic times, and the Gothic 
 stairway and "dungeon" of the Hotel de Ville. Then we go 
 through the bathing establishment, and view its pools and rest- 
 rooms and equipment for treating various forms of disease. 
 Next we explore the grotto, the galleries and chambers of 
 which were worn in earlier ages by the hot medicinal waters, 
 now piped to the tubs and pools and spouts of the establish- 
 ment below. Finally, we arrive at the little museum, where 
 relics of every period in the city's history, from the stone 
 and bronze ages down, may be seen. Behold me, as we go 
 along, mounted on some convenient step or bench, delivering 
 brief popular lectures on history, geology, and architecture, 
 but really bent on giving the boys a good time and making 
 new friends among them. 
 
 Lyon and Again Grenoble 
 
 June 24. The most interesting part of the past week has 
 been spent in visits to two other places. The first was to 
 the city of Lyon on a combination of Y and personal business. 
 There were supplies to be bought for our library, a copy of 
 a soprano solo to be secured for use at a concert in the Casino, 
 some inquiries to be made at the Grand Bazar de Lyon (a 
 department store) concerning an item of canteen equipment, 
 and a visit to the United States Consul, besides the usual 
 military formalities incident to all travel in a country at 
 war. All of this was accomplished in the morning hours, so 
 that at noon I found myself a gentleman of leisure, and just 
 then I happened on an American soldier in the same state: 
 for the officer, with whom he was travelling as orderly, had 
 turned him loose for a limited period, and he was strolling 
 about to see the town. Of course, as soon as I spied him, I 
 walked up and introduced myself: it is a great convenience 
 that one's fellow-countrymen abroad in these days are dressed 
 in an unmistakable uniform; it makes foreign travel a very 
 sociable affair. He was the nicest sort of a boy, from Oregon, 
 who had gone straight from school into the Army. I took 
 him with me to lunch, at which, though I was his host by 
 virtue of paying the bill, he in a sense was mine, for I had 
 
68 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 started on my journey with an insufficient supply of bread 
 tickets and he was able to contribute enough for our joint 
 needs. We might both of us have been guests of a French 
 priest, who came by just as we were walking off together, and 
 who asked us, evidently on the strength of our American uni- 
 forms, to go and eat with him, an interesting commentary on 
 the popularity of the American Army in France in these days. 
 
 My other visit was to a small group of American soldiers, 
 about whom I have written to you once or twice before, at a 
 place about two hours from here by train. That is, it took 
 us two hours to reach there from here; but, owing to the 
 vagaries of the present state of French railroad traffic, we 
 were nearly six hours in getting back. (The journeys be- 
 tween here and Lyon were equally disproportionate: three 
 hours to go, seven to return.) Heretofore this trip of which 
 I am now speaking had been made by auto; this time it was 
 possible to make use of the railroad, as we could spend two 
 days in making the trip, and it is not right to use essence 
 (gasoline) except for real necessities. 
 
 Our plan was to go on a Saturday, so that we could give the 
 boys a "show " on Saturday evening, and a Service on Sunday. 
 We were a party of eight, five women and three men, including 
 our best available "talent," a parson, and a chaperon. It had 
 not been easy to provide a programme, for the performance 
 had to be given without any musical instrument. There is no 
 piano at the barracks, and we happen just now to have no one 
 who plays any other instrument. You might think that under 
 such circumstances it was rather venturesome to put on a 
 programme consisting largely of dancing and singing; but 
 it is astonishing how well you get on without things, when 
 you can't have them. 
 
 We put up at a hotel in the city near which the boys are 
 stationed, and in the afternoon rode out on the trolley (five 
 miles) to their little town. There we had our supper in an 
 apology for a garden, which was the best place the little coun- 
 try cafe could offer; and a very excellent supper it was. Our 
 dancers had their last rehearsal while we waited for the food 
 to be served, the rest of us clapping time, while Gerry Reynolds 
 
IN THE FIRST LEA VE AREA 69 
 
 whistled the tune of the "Sailor's Hornpipe." The French 
 people who saw us no doubt took us for lunatics, but we are 
 used to that. 
 
 After supper we walked the short distance to the barracks, 
 arriving just as "inspection" was being completed. After 
 looking over the various possibilities, we decided to give the 
 show out-of-doors, between the two buildings which our men 
 occupy. The little square of turf formed the stage, a drainage 
 ditch represented the footlights, and on the farther side some 
 bunks, a bench, and two chairs accommodated the audience, 
 that is, the more favored part of it, for across the field, perhaps 
 an eighth of a mile away, there was a literal " niggers' heaven" 
 — a long fence which, as the show proceeded, held a larger 
 and larger number of Moroccans, who are encamped there. 
 Around us, beyond the buildings and trees in the foreground, 
 was a superb panorama of mountains, some broken and jagged, 
 some massive and precipitous, some cloud-capped, while one 
 long line of them, breaking through the clouds, was covered 
 with the eternal snows. All the time that our foolish little 
 show was going on, marvellous transformations were following 
 one another on those mountain heights, as we passed from 
 sunset, through the afterglow, to moonlight. 
 
 To see our performers, in costume, emerge from the 
 barracks on either side, and do their stunts in the open, was 
 certainly a novelty. Everything was vigorously applauded, 
 and every available encore was called for. Then, with the 
 help of the victrola, there was dancing. Our Y girls were good 
 sports, for the conditions did not make dancing easy. Some 
 of the boys were bashful about beginning: hob-nailed boots 
 and a turf floor made them fearful of accidents. But before 
 long all who could dance at all were taking part; and the rest 
 seemed to enjoy watching, especially when the dancers began 
 to "cut in." To see Joe robbed of his partner by Jake, and 
 then promptly take his revenge by dispossessing Pete, was an 
 unfailing source of amusement. Advice was freely given from 
 the side lines. Before nine-thirty, which was the hour for 
 "lights out," we said our good-nights, and were taken back 
 to the city, in two installments, in the army Ford truck. 
 
70 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 Next morning, making an early start, we were all out at 
 the encampment in time for nine o'clock Service, and all the 
 men were on hand, too. This was held in one of the barracks. 
 Then there was half an hour for talk and good-byes. You can 
 hardly imagine what it means to the boys, especially to those 
 who are in isolated places, to see a group of American women. 
 An entertainment such as we gave them helps to cheer them 
 up, and a Service gives them a lift ; but the biggest thing is to 
 get the touch of home that nothing can give as the women can. 
 
 Our journey back to Aix was long, but not without its 
 diversions, especially our picnic luncheon, mostly fruit, which 
 was ripe enough to be hard to manage in close quarters. No 
 need to shout " complet" to the other travellers who looked in 
 at the door of the compartment: no one dared enter. 
 
IV. BEHIND THE LINES, NEAR CHATEAU-THIERRY 
 
 On the Way 
 
 July 3. I have said good-bye to Aix-les-Bains, and very 
 hard it was to leave there. I had lived and worked there 
 nearly six months, a never-to-be-forgotten experience. My 
 last Sunday being the one before the Fourth, I had an espe- 
 cially good chance to say my last word to the boys at Aix, as 
 well as to my comrades of the Y staff there. The kindness of 
 all of them did not make it any easier to leave, as you can 
 imagine. It was almost like leaving another parish. 
 
 Monday I took my usual trips with the boys; Tuesday 
 (yesterday) I spent in packing, saying good-byes, and doing 
 the innumerable last things; and I came up to Paris on the 
 night train. 
 
 You will wonder why I have left Aix so long before the 
 time of my sailing for America. It is because I hope that in 
 the interval I may have a chance to see some of our Central 
 Church boys, none of whom ever got to Aix in all those months. 
 I had been trying to get this opportunity for several weeks 
 past, asking to be sent as a worker; for I do not believe in 
 asking for the privileges of a mere traveller at such a time, 
 even though for justifiable personal reasons. No response 
 came to my request, and I feared that my plan could not be 
 carried out. I spoke to Edmonds of my disappointment, and 
 with his co-operation I did, somewhat late, receive my new 
 appointment. I understand that it will take me into an 
 interesting region. I have gotten as far as Paris, and hope by 
 Friday to get the necessary movement orders, and start. 
 Of course, even if I get into the neighborhood where our boys 
 are, I may not see them, but at least I am doing what I can to 
 achieve it. I know there are some of you to whom it would 
 mean much, if someone you know could bring you a personal 
 report of how your boys look and what they are doing. 
 
 July 4. I have time to give you a brief account of this 
 memorable day in Paris. The city has paid a great tribute to 
 America and her fighting men. 
 
72 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 Paris is positively gay with flags, and that in itself means 
 a great deal in a people as war-weary as the French are. Even 
 a year ago when I first got here, I remember being fairly 
 startled by the contrast between Paris and New York in that 
 respect — New York a riot of color in its flag enthusiasm, and 
 Paris all grey and sombre, the business of war. But to-day 
 flags have flown everywhere, on all public buildings and most 
 private ones: half the people in the vast throngs wore some 
 emblem of America. The flowers sold in the streets were 
 made up into bouquets of red, white, and blue. 
 
 The utter disregard of anything the Germans might do 
 with their big gun or a daylight raid (tempted by the great 
 crowds and the parading soldiers) was splendid. Everyone 
 was on the streets, apparently, and stood in dense masses for a 
 couple of hours waiting for the procession and watching it pass. 
 
 I stood in the Place de la Concorde to see our boys go by. 
 I need not tell you how different it was from the peace-time 
 parades of the old days at home. These were men who are 
 fighting for us now, many of them right from the front, the 
 survivors of some of the glorious attacks with which our men 
 have begun to show how Americans can fight. And they are 
 going back to it to-morrow. There was a band at the head of 
 the procession; but its music soon passed and was lost in the 
 great open space where I stood, and the men marched by to 
 the sound of their own tread. 
 
 The French people applauded (in the sort of indoor fashion 
 which is their custom), saluted each American flag as it passed, 
 and threw flowers to our boys. A French aeroplane performed 
 unbelievable feats just over our heads. The whole scene was 
 very brilliant and strange. But the thing that gripped you was 
 the meaning of it, the meaning of those bronzed lads in khaki 
 from every state in the union, marching as fighting men 
 through the streets of Paris. In the mind of all of us was the 
 announcement in the morning papers from President Wilson 
 that America has now sent her first million men to fight with 
 the Allies for the world's liberty. 
 
 I have spent the afternoon in walking in all directions on 
 the boulevards and talking with as many of our American 
 
BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 73 
 
 soldiers as I could, helping some to find their way about, 
 pointing out objects of interest to those who seemed to have 
 an inclination toward sight-seeing, giving small sums of 
 money to a few who seemed depressed by the empty state of 
 their pockets, and hearing all sorts of war stories hot from the 
 front. I must have talked with twenty or thirty, and I heard 
 some thrilling tales. On the whole I am not sorry that my 
 movement order could not be gotten in time to allow me to 
 leave the city to-day but I hope that there will be no further 
 delay to-morrow. 
 
 In La Ferte-sous-Jouarre 
 
 July 8. I am at least approaching the fulfillment of my 
 wish, for I have gotten near enough to our Central Church 
 boys to get direct news of a few of them, from boys in their 
 outfits who know them. It has been all good news. Besides 
 this I have met any quantity of Massachusetts boys, and not 
 a few from Worcester. Some of these have sent messages to 
 their families at home, which it will be a great pleasure to me 
 to convey. Constantly, ever since I have been up here, I 
 have kept asking the boys I meet, where they come from, 
 so as to identify all who come from Massachusetts, and we 
 have had some fine talks about the old Bay State, I can assure 
 you. And about a good many other states, too, for that 
 matter, for any part of the United States looks good to all of 
 us over here. 
 
 I have been only two days at this place; but even if this 
 were all, I should count it one of my great experiences in 
 France. Some day I can tell you more about it. It is the 
 nearest I have come to the stern realities of war : within sound 
 of the guns, and within sight of the tremendous activities that 
 go on just behind the lines. 
 
 Among the boys I have seen is one who was an eye witness 
 of Chaplain Banker's wounding. He told me from his own 
 immediate knowledge how the Chaplain, when he was hit, 
 insisted that he was all right, and that others needed help 
 more, and ought to be attended to first. There is no doubt 
 about what the boys thought of him, or how they took his 
 
74 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 death to heart. The tears stood in this boy's eyes, as he talked 
 about it. 
 
 The secretaries at Paris and up here have been very kind 
 in arranging my present short assignment so as to give me the 
 best chance of running across Massachusetts boys, first in send- 
 ing me up to this sector, and then in assigning me to work in a 
 very central position, where men from many different outfits 
 are coming and going all the time. They come in droves into 
 the little ex-wineshop, where I am helping run the Y, and the 
 streets are full of them. When I am not on duty, I spend 
 all my time walking about on the lookout for chance en- 
 counters. Even when I don't have an opportunity for a talk, 
 it seems worth while to say just a word in passing, especially 
 to the boys who are moving up toward the line. The way 
 some of the faces light up in response to just a friendly greeting 
 makes you realize how hungry some of them are for a touch of 
 friendship. 
 
 Yesterday, Sunday, I spoke at a Service held in the as- 
 sembly hall in the Hotel de Ville, through the courtesy of the 
 Mayor. Below in the square were the litter from the market 
 and the empty stalls, and along the farther side passed an 
 almost continuous stream of men, horses, trucks, and all 
 sorts of army supplies, on their way to the front. Imagine 
 how it seemed, to look out on that, as we sang "Onward, 
 Christian Soldiers." We faced the windows singing it, so 
 that the boys idling about the square and perhaps some 
 marching at the farther end of it might catch the notes of 
 that old hymn of Christian faith and purpose. 
 
 In Montreuil-aux-Lions 
 
 July 9. Just a line to let you know that I had barely 
 finished my previous letter when I was moved to a still 
 bettor station, nearer the front, or rather was sent to open 
 one. The place had been selected by the Head Secretary of 
 the division, the building secured with the assistance of the 
 American "Town Major," and I w^as chosen to start the enter- 
 prise, which gratified me very much, being a new man in 
 this division. They said they wanted a man with lots of 
 
BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 75 
 
 "pep," and I didn't let on that I was rather surprised at 
 being chosen, but am putting up a bluff that I am the very 
 man for the place. It is a wonderful situation, as central 
 as the other and more important in being the final distribut- 
 ing-point of men going up to the front line. From the moment 
 we open the canteen in the morning till we close at night 
 because of darkness (we are not yet equipped for the necessary 
 screening of lights), there is an absolutely steady line of from 
 ten to a hundred men waiting to buy. 
 
 Up here you are required to carry your gas mask all 
 the time and are equipped with the steel helmet. The guns 
 are audible at all times of day and night, unless the noise 
 of the traffic drowns it. All night long, as at the other place, 
 one hears the tramp of men, the clatter of horses' feet, the 
 pounding of motor trucks. 
 
 The town in which we are has been completely evacuated 
 by civilians, and I am in a house which was very plainly 
 vacated in a hurry — all sorts of personal things left lying 
 about. It seemed funny enough to take possession of other 
 people's property, without their consent or even knowledge. 
 I've tried to be considerate, and have moved up into the 
 garret some things that the owners might regret having left 
 behind, especially children's things — building blocks and 
 other toys, and a high chair. But most of the contents was 
 rubbish, ankle deep, which had to be fairly shovelled out. 
 You wouldn't believe that, though, if you could see how cozy 
 and neat our little Y looks now. I think I am having the 
 best time yet. 
 
 July 20. I wrote you on July 9 about my new venture 
 only about six miles from the front, which I had then been 
 running only one day. I kept it up for a week (the limit of 
 my time there) and had a wonderful experience all through. 
 At first I had only a limited amount of help from another 
 man, whose main work was getting supplies up to the ad- 
 vanced position of one of the batteries; but later he 
 was transferred entirely to my canteen, for there was cer- 
 tainly enough work to keep busy two men to say the least. 
 
 Each day our crowd of customers grew bigger, as the news 
 
76 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 of the canteen spread farther and farther afield. The whole 
 countryside was alive with troops, though so skillfully dis- 
 persed that it would take a keen observer to discover the 
 fact. The popularity of the canteen had its disadvantages, 
 however, from a military point of view. Very early we re- 
 ceived word that the line must not extend out through the 
 front door, but through the back rooms and the courtyard 
 behind, in order to avoid the gathering of a crowd in the 
 street; but even with that precaution too many remained 
 outside for safety. A German plane overhead would at 
 once notice the crowd, and a shelling of the town would soon 
 follow. The Military Police held off as long as possible, 
 realizing what the supplies meant to the men; but on Friday 
 night came word that we must close up. 
 
 Fortunately in the meantime a large hall had been dis- 
 covered nearby, and permission from the Town Major to 
 occupy it had been secured. The place had been cleaned out 
 by us on Thursday; and as soon as the order to close up the 
 canteen arrived I went to the Assistant Provost Marshal 
 (local head of the Military Police) and asked permission to 
 make a trial in this hall. (His first word had been that we 
 must move out of the town altogether, and set up a tent in 
 the woods somewhere.) 
 
 He gave his consent to the experiment, and I made some 
 large signs to aid in keeping the men out of sight of the enemy, 
 to the effect that 
 
 MEN MUST SCATTER AT ONCE 
 ON LEAVING THE BUILDING 
 OR THE Y WILL BE CLOSED 
 and that 
 
 MEN MUST NOT COLLECT 
 OUTSIDE OF THIS BUILDING. 
 COME INSIDE OR GO AWAY. 
 
 So on Saturday morning the Y canteen was opened up 
 in the Salle de M. Engle at the Cafe de la Lyre, and the Red 
 Triangle and the golden Lyre swung side by side. The two 
 rooms in our new quarters were 20 feet by 40 feet and 25 
 
BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 77 
 
 feet square; but even so the line, after circling about both of 
 them, would, if we did not keep watch, straggle down the 
 stairs and out into the street. On Sunday afternoon the 
 A. P. M. stationed one of his men at the door to take the rec- 
 ord of men entering, and between three o'clock and dark he 
 counted 973. I knew this counting was an ominous sign; 
 and sure enough on Monday afternoon, just as I was reluc- 
 tantly taking my departure for Paris, came word that, even 
 though kept indoors, too many men were being drawn together 
 by our canteen, and we must close down. I have not heard 
 what happened after that. 
 
 At any rate, as long as we did run, we did a whacking 
 business. Three times a day I had to restock from the ware- 
 house, and each night we ended "sold out." In the week that 
 I was there we took in over 21,000 francs. 
 
 From the beginning I had been watching for a chance 
 to get nearer to our Central Church boys. One of the regi- 
 ments had gone into the front line just before I got there, 
 and I could get no chance to follow it. I had more hope of 
 reaching the gun positions of the two batteries in which eight 
 of our boys are. At first, I could only send messages to the 
 people who might help me, being tied down at the canteen 
 myself. But on Friday I had a chance to drive over to the 
 place where the artillery regiment had its headquarters, 
 and there enlisted the help of a Y man who promised to 
 intercede with the Chaplain to get permission for me to go 
 up to the gun positions or the echelons at night. He was to 
 let me know next day, if any way opened. That was the day 
 when we moved into the larger quarters, and I could not get 
 away for a moment. Nor did I discover till too late that the 
 iisual trip of the Y truck to the artillery headquarters had 
 not been made that day, preventing my getting any message 
 from there. On Sunday, having heard nothing, and having 
 a second chance to go over myself, I went, and to my disgust 
 learned that the Chaplain had made arrangements for me 
 to go up with him earlier that morning to the echelon and help 
 in the Service. But the word, as you see, had never reached 
 me, and the chance was gone. My request to be allowed to 
 
78 ON THE EDGE OF THE STORM 
 
 go up with the kitchen-wagons or the ammunition-train that 
 night was promptly turned down. I was told that no one, 
 not the Chaplain himself, could go up that night, for it was 
 expected that the German offensive would then begin. And it 
 did in fact begin, as you will recall, on that night between 
 July 14 and 15. 
 
 I took an interesting walk that Sunday afternoon, after I 
 had returned to my own station. It was due to a mistake I 
 had made in filling out a remittance blank for a boy who was 
 sending money home to his brother. I went out to his camp to 
 find him, a couple of miles from the town. It was in a wood 
 which was packed full of men in tents and dug-outs, a most 
 interesting revelation to me of what a camp just back of the 
 lines is like. When leaving there, my companion and myself 
 had enough curiosity to walk a mile or so farther, toward the 
 German lines, to a height from which we could see nearly to 
 the lines themselves. At that time of day the road was prac- 
 tically deserted, no conveyances, only four or five soldiers and 
 Y men walking. Trenches and barbed-wire entanglements 
 showed the preparations made for a possible retreat. We 
 knew that the woods were full of guns. But it all seemed so 
 peaceful, that it was hard to believe that only just out of sight 
 was one of the hottest places of the whole battle-line. 
 
 That night or early the next morning the big offensive be- 
 gan with terrific bombardments. Many guns of the Allies 
 were placed far behind the town I was in and shot over our 
 heads, and the Germans shelled places well in our rear. At 
 some places farther from the front than we, no one slept a 
 wink from the terrific noise of the nearby guns. But curiously 
 enough in our situation, in a sort of little hollow, the worst of 
 the noise was cut off. The guns were perfectly audible, of 
 course; but we went calmly to sleep, and had as good a night's 
 rest as on any night that I was there. 
 
 On Monday afternoon I went by motor back to the rail- 
 head, and took the train for Paris. The next night, as I 
 learned later, the railroad station, where I had boarded the 
 train, was completely wrecked by a well-placed German shell. 
 The train which I took was packed with civilians who were 
 
BEHIND THE BATTLE-FRONT 
 
 79 
 
 hastening to escape before the expected bombardment began. 
 
 I did not realize at the time that this was the cause of the 
 
 heavy train-load. 
 
 And now each day's report of the battle in the newspapers 
 
 tells me what is happening up in the region just north of where 
 
 I spent my busy week. Had our troops retreated, it would 
 have brought the battle at once into the very region where I 
 was; but, thank God, the line is moving the other way, and 
 all the reports are full of glowing praises of our boys. 
 
 The days since then have been spent in getting the neces- 
 sary papers, authorizing me to return to the States, from the 
 Y and from the American and French authorities. Naturally, 
 it is a complicated and prolonged process; but it is now com- 
 plete, and I should be actually on my way, were not the sailing 
 of my vessel delayed. 
 
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