Chapter I: Should Care—a’m Going to Camouflage It with Talcum Powder

GESS I’LL HAVE TO WEAR GLOVES AFTER ALL!

K. H. DAY ’18 FRANCE]

One of the men who used to work in the atelier when we had French workmen, came in to see us the other day. He had just got back from his permission and from seeing his wife and son who had been prisoners. The Huns had cut the forefinger from each of his wife’s hands. That was mild compared with some of the other things that they did.

The other night we staged a party. The result is my drawing of Monsieur Light Wine. Never again.

Rumors are flying about. The latest is that all men will return to their original companies. That’s all right, but what becomes of the Field Service men? If it’s all the same to those higher up, I’ll take home.

MONSIEUR LIGHT WINE

—AND I THOUGHT YOU HARMLESS! “ALLEZ”! NEVER LET ME SEE YOU AGAIN.]

_December 19_

DEAR MOTHER—

Winter has at last taken the padlock off. The rain that has been falling for the last few days, has now turned to snow and the temperature has moved from its suite half way up to one near the ground floor. Rubber boots and an over coat are very much in style these days—also a red nose.

We are now taking the count in the village of Boulzicourt near the cities of Mézières and Charleville. Sedan is also quite close by. The day before yesterday I took a trip to Charleville: object, a bath. Managed to catch a ride on a truck going over.

THIS IS THE WAY WE FEEL AT TIMES——]

After the bath, met a couple of the boys and we hustled around to get things fixed up for supper. None of the cafés or restaurants have started in to serve meals so we went into the market and got some steak and potatoes. The prices are sky high, but one has to eat. These we took around to a small café and had them cooked up. The steak was tough, but the “cuisinier” had cooked it in a most delicious way — with Pinard. The potatoes as usual were French Fried. We had brought along our own wine or we would have been out of luck.

After supper we drifted around to a dance hall. It was crowded, about ten men to one girl, so we didn’t try our luck at the French dancing. All they do is whirl—always in one way and they never reverse. Once in awhile you see someone trying to do the old turkey trot. After sticking around a short while, we started home. No ride this time—no luck at all, so we burnt up the road for the ten kilom’s.

?

PAS DE TABAC

IT IS RATHER A SHOCK TO THE BAR MAID, FOR YOU TO TAKE A CUP OF COFFEE WITHOUT EVEN THAT DASH OF COGNAC.]

Yesterday I was over to Sedan. It was raining so hard that I didn’t do much chasing around. Of the two cities Charleville is the more picturesque with its long sloping roofs and its quaint old fashioned French appearance. Sedan looks more modern, more like the States.

The day we moved, five of us got left behind. That is there wasn’t enough room in the remaining camion—the others had pulled out and we thought they were waiting somewhere down the line. The first stop we knew was to be at Boulzicourt, so we started out on foot. All of us were dressed pretty warmly, as we had expected to hold down the front end of a camion. It was raining and soon our overcoats were weighing close to a ton. Up the line about three miles, I discovered that two letters for one of the boys had been forgotten in the shuffle. It was up to me to go back and one of the boys said he’d come along. Back we went and rescued the mail. We got under way again and this time had the luck to jump an ambulance that was going straight through. It was going, it didn’t even hit the high spots. About half way we passed the other three birds riding the back end of a truck. We pulled into Boulzicourt and discovered that the camion had moved on to a place called Flize, which is on the way to Sedan.