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diff --git a/old/63520-0.txt b/old/63520-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 928ed99..0000000 --- a/old/63520-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2925 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's An American Crusader at Verdun, by Philip Sidney Rice - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: An American Crusader at Verdun - -Author: Philip Sidney Rice - -Release Date: October 21, 2020 [EBook #63520] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AMERICAN CRUSADER AT VERDUN *** - - - - -Produced by Carol Brown and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -An American Crusader at Verdun - - - - -[Illustration: Philip Sidney Rice] - - - - -An American Crusader at Verdun - - -By - -Philip Sidney Rice - - - - -Published by the Author, - -at Princeton, N. J. - -1918 - - - - -Copyright, 1918, - -BY PHILIP SIDNEY RICE - -Published October, 1918 - -Printed in the United States of America - - - - -Foreword - - -I hesitate to write of my experiences because so many books have been -written about the war, and the story of the ambulancier has been told -before. - -Many young Americans in sympathy with the Allied cause, and -particularly the cause of France, and many Americans anxious to uphold -the honor of their own country, when others were holding back the -flag, went over as “crusaders” in advance of the American Army. Many -had gone over before I went; some have come back and told their story -and told it well――and so, although I went as a “crusader,” I am not -the first to tell the story. - -But if my story interests a few of my friends and kin I shall be -satisfied with the telling of it. - - PHILIP SIDNEY RICE. - - RHODES TAVERN, - Harvey’s Lake, Pa. - - - - -Introduction - - -A citation in general orders, by the Commanding General of the 69th -Division of Infantry of the French Army, which declares that Driver -Philip S. Rice “has always set an example of the greatest courage and -devotion in the most trying circumstances during the evacuation of -wounded in the attacks of August and September, 1917, before -Verdun,”[1] ought to be sufficient introduction in itself to this -story of an American Ambulance Driver who bore himself valiantly in -those days of the great tragedy at Verdun. And yet for the story -itself, and for the man who has written it, something can be said by -one of his friends in appreciation of both the story and the man. - -The literature that is coming out, and which will come out, of the -great war, will never cease as long as history shall recite the -efforts of the German Spoiler to gain the mastery of the world, and -fill the world with hate and hunger. Therefore, every bit of evidence -that shall touch even so lightly on every phase of the conditions, and -reveal even in the slightest sense a picture of what happened, will -have its value. - -Of Mr. Rice, I can say that as a youngster the spirit of adventure was -strong in him. He tried his best to break into the War with Spain in -1898, but his weight and heart action compelled his rejection by the -surgeons. He later, however, served with credit under my command, as -an enlisted man, and as an officer of the Ninth Infantry, National -Guard of Pennsylvania. - -When the United States entered the conflict on the side of the Entente -Allies in the present war, Mr. Rice, knowing that he could not gain a -place in the fighting forces, volunteered for service in the American -Ambulance Corps in France. Herein is written the story of that service -simply told, without vainglory or boasting. It is a story of a -soldier’s work――for it was as a soldier he served. - -Simply told, yes; but well told. For instance, the recital of the -story of that evening of July 13, in the after dusk, when the guns had -silenced forever the voice of his comrade, Frederick Norton, when they -laid him to rest on the side of the hill in view of the enemy, and the -towers of the desecrated Cathedral of Rheims. And that other time, -when in front of Verdun, the “slaughter house of the world,” when -nerve-racked he had stopped his car on the road, in the midst of the -shells and gas clouds, when he said to himself: “If I do go and am -hit, the agony will be over in a few minutes, but, if I turn back, the -agony will be with me all the rest of my life”――so he put on his gas -mask and drove on. - -The “Cross of War” is not given by France for any but deserving -action. The men of France who commended and recommended Phil Rice for -the distinguished honor conferred upon him knew that in every day of -his service he deserved what the French Government, through General -Monroe, Commanding the 69th Division of Infantry, gave to him――the -Croix de Guerre. - -It is something to have been a part of it, to have visioned with your -own eyes the scenes and the places that now lie waste upon the bosom -of fair France; to have witnessed the horrors of the deadly gigantic -monster War as it is now being conducted “Over There.” To have heard -singing in your ears the whirr of the avions in the night air――to have -seen with your own eyes the tragic diorama of the hateful and cruel -side of war――and it is something for your children’s children in the -years that are yet to come to tell that in the Great War their -forebear bore an honorable part. - - C. B. DOUGHERTY, - Major General National Guard of - Pennsylvania, Retired - - - - - Contents - - PAGE - I - The Voyage 1 - - II - “Over There” at Last! 11 - - III - In the Champagne Region 15 - - IV - Qualifying as a Driver 18 - - V - “Car No. 13” 21 - - VI - The “Crusader” 24 - - VII - “Raising Hell Down at Epernay” 29 - - VIII - Norton’s Last Ride 35 - - IX - Bastille Day 40 - - X - Here Kultur Passed 45 - - XI - Verdun 49 - - XII - Awaiting the Big Attack 54 - - XIII - Under Fire in an Ambulance 56 - - XIV - The Big Shells Come Over 63 - - XV - Under the Shell Shower 68 - - XVI - Aftermath of Battle 72 - - XVII - In the Valley of the Shadow 76 - - XVIII - In Paris 81 - - XIX - Aillianville 90 - - XX - Vive l’Amérique! Vive la France! 98 - - XXI - Afterthoughts 102 - - - - -An American Crusader at Verdun - - - - -I - -The Voyage - - -It was a glorious afternoon in Spring, to be exact, May 19, 1917, at -about three bells, that the French liner _Chicago_ moved out of her -dock and started down the North river on the voyage to France, crowded -for the most part with volunteers, entering various branches of -service in the World War. There were doctors, camion drivers, -aviators, ambulanciers――also a few civilians, half a dozen members of -the Comédie Française returning to their native land and stage; and -more than likely there were one or two spies. It was the largest crowd -of “Crusaders” that had embarked for France since the war began. - -The deck was crowded, too, with relatives and friends of those who -were sailing; there was waving of flags, cheering and shedding of -tears, and it was my observation that those who were being left behind -took the departure harder than those who were leaving. But I suppose -that is true when one starts on any long journey and I suppose it is -especially true when one starts on the last long journey to a better -world. - -Those of us on the boat were not bound for a better world, we were -just bound by going to help make the world a little better if we -could. But some whom I met on the voyage have since passed on to a -better world. - -I am sure that most of the men on board were imbued with a spirit of -seriousness. I was serious about the journey myself. Practically since -the war began, I had been moved with a desire to get into it. I -resented the invasion of Belgium, as have all red-blooded people, no -matter what their nationality. I resented the murder of Edith Cavell; -I resented the sinking of the Lusitania; I resented the atrocities -committed, not against the people of any race in particular, but -against fellow human beings; I resented the loud clamorings of -white-blooded pacifists and Prussian propagandists who would have kept -us out of war at any price, even at the price of honor. When I finally -reached the decision to take a small part in the war and acted upon -that decision by enlisting as a volunteer ambulance driver, I felt -touched with a spirit of rest. - -I did not know a single soul aboard when the liner cast off and backed -out into the river. I knew quite a few before we reached Bordeaux. -Shipboard is the easiest place in the world to make acquaintances, and -being alone I drifted about, perhaps, more than if I had gone on board -with a crowd of my own friends. - -That morning in the Waldorf I had been told by Fred Parrish that a -young fellow by the name of Meeker was going over for aviation and I -had been told to look him up. A little later that same morning, while -walking down Fifth avenue, bound for a bookstore to purchase a French -dictionary and a volume of Bernard Shaw’s plays (I already had a -Testament), I ran into my literary friend, Mr. George Henry Payne. It -seemed perfectly natural to run into George on Fifth avenue――he seemed -perfectly at home there. George is cosmopolitan――he is at home -anywhere. He had sometimes been in my “Little Red House on the Hill,” -my summer home in Dallas, Pennsylvania. “Darkest Dallas,” George -called it. - -This meeting with George on Fifth avenue has a bearing on my trip -across. He informed me that a friend of his, a Miss Katherine G――――, -was sailing on the same boat. George told me to introduce myself to -her and said he would communicate with her and vouch for the meeting. -There was no time for a full description. George merely informed me -that she was charming, though intellectual――that she had translated -the works of Brandes into English and done a lot of heavy stuff like -that. I confess I was a little terrified at the prospect of meeting -Miss Katherine G――――. - -The boat was soon headed down the river and the crowd of friends and -relatives on the dock faded from view, still waving farewell. Before -we passed the Statue of Liberty I ran into Meeker――a fine, wholesome -looking young chap――dressed in a light spring suit――a flower in his -buttonhole. I saw a lot of Meeker before we reached the other side. He -had spirit, and speaking of going as a “Crusader,” he remarked: “I -would rather be a ‘went’ than a ’sent.’” At dinner I met a number of -other fellows, among them a young aviator just out of Princeton. His -name was Walcott.[2] - -I only kept a diary for a few days. I found that everyone was keeping -a diary. One day on deck I heard a man reading a page of his to an -acquaintance and I heard him remark with a show of pride that the -other fellows in his stateroom were keeping their diaries by copying -from his. I heard him read: “Arose at seven o’clock, took a bath at -seven-fifteen; had breakfast at eight, on deck at eight-thirty, sea is -choppy.” And I thought to myself as I moved about the deck: “What an -inspiring document to leave to one’s descendants.” So after about four -pages of the brief one that I kept I find the following: - -“I wonder what the intellectual Miss G―――― looks like――whether she is -prematurely old, anaemic or possibly has a tuft of hair on her chin. I -have never read Brandes but he sounds heavy. I called on Miss G―――― -last evening after dinner. Ports were masked――curtains drawn, the -decks were black except for spots of fire indicating a cigarette here -and there. But in the darkness there was singing, and it was good, -too. The submarines have not ears――only one eye like the witches in -‘Macbeth.’ I decided to call on Miss G―――― and I approached her -stateroom thinking of Brandes, of high-brow feminine youth prematurely -blighted, of a tuft of hair and anaemia. The stateroom door was open -and there were lights. The room was littered with roses and clothes -and things. There was a feminine, human touch to that stateroom, but -Miss G―――― was not within. Perhaps she was on the deck somewhere among -those cigarettes glowing like fireflies in the dark. I hastily tossed -my card upon her pillow and returned to the deck. Miss G―――― has not -returned my call――I have not seen her to my knowledge.” - -Later that first evening on board I went up into the smoking room and -a cloud of blue smoke hung low over the occupants who crowded the -room. They did not look like members of a peace commission――some were -dressed in khaki, some wore yellow driving coats, one wore the uniform -of the American Ambulance. Over at a corner table three French -officers, in their light blue uniforms, were seated with ladies who I -afterward learned were their wives. One of the officers wore the Croix -de Guerre, which filled me with admiration and envy. At another table -was a young French girl surrounded by admiring men. She was vivacious, -possessed of a high color and beautiful teeth――even if she did smoke -cigarettes. Her friends called her “Andree.” At another table a lively -card game was going on――later I got to know the participants――Harris, -Lambert, Bixby, Branch, Foltz and others. - -Down in the music room it was crowded, too. Some one was playing the -piano, and playing well. Altogether it was a likely looking crowd that -I found on the boat. - -Among my early acquaintances was a promising young poet who I was told -had already begun to fulfil his promise. He was just out of Harvard -and lived at South Orange, New Jersey. We discovered that we had -some things in common――we both liked cigarettes and disliked -white-corpuscled pacifists. We were photographed together by a friend. -I have always been willing to have my photograph taken with a -successful poet, providing he wore good clothes and did not wear long -hair. I was glad to be photographed with Bob Hillyer. He wore a blue -serge suit, a light blue necktie and had rather sad eyes, though I -thought he was too young to have suffered much. The well-to-do never -suffer much at Harvard. He had a slight cold and I prescribed for him -out of a medicine chest which had been presented to me before sailing. -The next day he told me he felt much better. I did not tell him that I -discovered too late that I had given him the wrong medicine. - -I met another young fellow who was not a poet. He introduced himself -to me and said he had met me before somewhere. I could not recall the -incident, though his name was familiar. On better acquaintance I got -to call him “Bridgey” for short. He suggested that we take a walk -around the deck, which was in darkness except for the cigarettes -glowing here and there. “Bridgey” fell over a coil of rope before we -had covered the starboard side, after which he inquired the number of -his stateroom and retired for the night. The next morning he came to -me and confided that he was rooming in a cabin with a begoggled person -of strong religious propensities who had taken him to task for his -levity of the night before. I inquired what form his levity had taken, -and he confessed “I tried to feed grapes to him when he wanted to go -to sleep and then accidentally smashed an electric light globe while -taking off my shoe.” I tried to comfort him with the thought that -religion was not merely a matter of goggles. - -There were two fellows on the boat whom I was destined to know -intimately later on after reaching the front. They were from -Providence, Rhode Island. One was tall and slender and had red hair. -His name I learned was Harwood B. Day. He will always be known -affectionately to me as “Red” Day. The other was tall and slender and -had dishevelled hair from constant reading. His name I learned was -Frank Farnham. To me he will always be just “Farney.” Day was -returning to the service after a visit in the States. - -On a later page in my brief diary, from which I have already quoted, I -find the following: - -“Sapristi! I have just met Miss Katherine G――――. She may be -intellectual but she certainly is charming. She may have translated -Brandes into English and done other heavy stuff like that, but she is -not prematurely old. She is not anaemic and there is not a tuft of -hair on her chin. She is young, she has black hair and black eyes and -a kindly smile like a practical Christian. She is feminine. Her -stateroom told the story――littered with flowers, clothes and things. -If the boat is hit I shall certainly be one of several who will offer -her a life belt.” There my diary ended. - -The voyage was calm enough and without many exciting incidents. One of -the passengers died. He was very old and feeble when he came on board, -bound for his home I believe, in Greece. He was buried at sea early -one morning before those who had gone to bed had risen. - -Many passengers slept on deck while passing through the war zone. The -ship’s concert took place a couple of nights before we landed. Many -passengers stayed on deck during the ship’s concert. Miss G―――― and -the two aviators, Meeker and Walker, took part in a one-act play. I -wrote the play originally but Miss G―――― rewrote it because she said -it was too “high-brow,” which convinced me that she was wonderfully -human though highly intellectual. - -Reaching France, we “crusaders” who had become intimate on the long -voyage, which was all too short, went our various ways――some to -aviation fields――some to camion camps――some to the American Field -Headquarters at 21 Rue Reynouard, Paris, France. Some I have seen -since――some I will never see again. - -Coming out of an Eleventh Century Cathedral in Bordeaux with a couple -of friends, I saw “Andree” pass by in an open carriage. She was -smiling happily, showing her white teeth when she turned and waved to -us as the carriage disappeared around the corner. - -I last saw Meeker and Walcott in front of the Café de la Paix in -Paris. I wished them luck in their undertakings for the cause. Meeker -and Walcott, aviators, have since fallen on the field and I am sure -the world is bound to be just a little better for the inspiring -sacrifice they have made. - -In Paris I met Frederick Norton, of Goshen, New York. - - - - -II - -“Over There” at Last! - - -Friday, the twenty-second day of June, I arose upon a birthday -anniversary. I had no intention of observing it, but I felt in a -vaguely definite way that something interesting was to happen before -the day was over; and this feeling was not long in growing from the -vague to the definite. - -From the time of reaching Paris I was busily engaged in various ways -at the headquarters of the American Field Service while impatiently -waiting my turn to go to the front. I was more than impatient――at -times I was fretful. I even believe that upon cross-examination the -heads of the service would admit that I was absolutely annoying. I -supposed that I would be assigned to a new ambulance section soon to -be organized, but on this day I have mentioned, I was informed that I -was to fill a vacancy in Section Number One, the oldest American Field -Section serving with the French army. I was in luck. Section One had -been at the Battle of the Marne, it had served in Belgium――it had been -at Verdun in 1916 and had gained a glorious record for itself at -various places along the Western Front. I was to be prepared to leave -Paris on Sunday morning, and to my delight I learned that Frederick -Norton was also to join the same Section. - -While working together in the Paris headquarters we discovered that we -had many mutual friends and this naturally put us on a friendly -footing from the beginning. We found that our ideas coincided about -many things and about people. I thought Norton had some pretty good -ideas and was an excellent judge of people. Sometimes when we were -talking together he would say about someone: “How do you size him up?” -And I would tell him. Usually our ideas coincided. Norton had been a -traveller――he had been to Alaska――he had been North with Peary――he had -been to Japan――he already knew something of France――he had been a -hunter――he had a pilot’s license to drive an aeroplane――he had done -some toboganning and skiing in Switzerland, which are not sports for -the timid. These things I learned from him slowly, for he was -extremely modest and not given to talking about his exploits. I was -glad when I found that we were to start for the battle front together, -and he was kind enough to say that he was glad, too. - -Saturday night and a short “Good-night” to Paris. A short “Good-night” -because cafés close at nine o’clock, and besides I must be up early -the following morning. In company with my delightful pagan friend -“Bridgey,” I went around to a little quiet out of the way café, which -was hardly known to Americans. The little café was kept by an elderly -lady whose husband had been killed in the war and by her daughter -whose husband had also been killed in the war. This mother and -daughter were excellent cooks, but their place was plain and -comfortable. There was sawdust on the floor. Sitting in the little -back dining room we could see into the kitchen and watch the meal -being prepared. Across the street in the “Chinese Umbrella” there was -more ostentation, style and atmosphere. The “Chinese Umbrella” was -patronized mostly by Americans and the atmosphere was not Parisian. - -“Bridgey” had invited me there for a quiet, exclusive farewell supper, -and as we sat in the back room of the café he regaled me with an -account of how he had tried for aviation the day before. He was -nearsighted and wore spectacles, without which he could scarcely see -across the room. From a friend he had procured a copy of the alphabet -eye test and had tried to commit it to memory; he reported for -examination with spectacles in his pocket. He missed on the third -letter, and being brusquely informed that he had failed, “Bridgey,” -who certainly had a sense of humor, smilingly adjusted his spectacles -and bade adieu to the inspecting officer. - -Supper finished, I said “Au ’voir” to Madame and her daughter, the two -war widows, and then went off to bed. - -“Bridgey” was on hand next morning to see us start for the front. A -few other acquaintances were at the station, too. I have not seen -“Bridgey” since but I heard that he was at Verdun during the big -offensive. - -Norton and I boarded the twelve o’clock train bound for the front. The -train was crowded with French officers, grey haired Generals, -Colonels, officers of all ranks and of various branches of the -service. There were very few civilians and not half a dozen women. -Twelve o’clock, and Paris faded behind us as we started for the battle -front. - - - - -III - -In the Champagne Region - - -We left the train at Epernay, an important city some twenty miles back -from the battle lines, but subject to air raids, as I observed from -demolished and dilapidated buildings in various parts of the town, and -as I was to learn from personal experience before many days had -passed. - -Here we were met by a member of Section One, a young fellow by the -name of Stout, well named, of stocky build and robust appetite. Norton -and I had eaten lightly and suggested that we repair to a café for -luncheon before proceeding on to where Section One had its cantonment -near the front. Stout said he would join us for company’s sake, but -that he had finished dinner just a short while before. As we ate and -talked a large plate of pastry was placed upon the table and Stout was -prevailed upon to take one, and as we talked Stout emptied the plate -and we called for more which we divided with Stout. After luncheon I -caught Norton’s ear and said to him: “You heard Stout say he had his -Sunday dinner?” - -“Yes.” - -“You noticed the vanishing plate of sweets?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, it looks to me,” I said, “as if Section One is starving.” - -That was before we knew Stout of robust appetite. But Stout had plenty -of vim and vigor and was untiring, and later won the Croix de Guerre -at Verdun. Stout and I quarrelled at Verdun, after which I had a -genuine affection for him. - -We clambered into a motor truck, Stout driving, and were on the second -stage of our journey to the front. We reached the town of Louvois -about six o’clock. Here Section One had its cantonment. Louvois is a -picturesque village, far enough back from the lines not to be entirely -deserted by its civilian population, mostly simple people living in -simple homes just as their forebears had lived in the same homes a -hundred years and more before. Here we began to breathe the atmosphere -of the war――here, night and day, we saw the movement of the troops to -and from the front――we saw the procession of camions carrying -munitions and supplies――large cannons being drawn by many horses――the -little machine guns――sometimes a fleet of armored cars equipped with -anti-aircraft guns. Overhead we saw the large observation balloons and -heard the whirr of aeroplanes. In the distance we could hear the -firing at the front. - -Supper was being served underneath a shed, and it was a good supper, -too. Section One was not starving. We were cordially received by the -members of the Section. “Red” Day and “Farney” were in the gathering. -“Red” had served with the Section in Belgium. After supper we strolled -along the street and listened while Purdy, a bright young fellow, told -us all about the war. Purdy was six feet tall and as I later observed -every inch a soldier. - -That night we were billeted in the second story of a dilapidated -barnlike building from which the windows were all gone, and lying on -my cot I could see the stars through the roof. That night a rat ran -across my face. At last I was getting into the war. - - - - -IV - -Qualifying as a Driver - - -The following morning Norton and I, not having been assigned to cars, -were set to work changing a tire. Down on our hands and knees we began -to struggle――a few of the men were standing about. Norton laughed -softly and whispered to me: - -“Have you ever changed a tire before?” - -“No,” I said; “have you?” - -“No,” chuckled Norton, but we quickly finished the job and felt very -proud of our first effort. - -A little later I was taken out for a trial ride to prove whether or -not I could really drive a Ford car. William Pearl, our volunteer -mechanician, went with me on the run. Pearl had been a Rhodes scholar -and had joined the Section some time before. A couple of months after -that trial drive he and I were destined to have a thrilling and trying -experience, in which he was the principal actor. - -[Illustration: Cars Waiting for a Run] - -The trial ride took us along a road for about seven miles, where we -came to the brow of a hill. Here we stopped the car and walked out -into an open field and there I obtained my first glimpse of the war, -spread out before us in a panorama. In the distance, to the left, I -could see the city of Rheims, the towers of its desecrated cathedral -looming up distinctly. I could see the shells falling and bursting in -the city. Pearl informed me, as we stood there, that an average of two -thousand shells a day were being dropped on the city. In front of us I -could see the hills laid barren by shell fire and scarred by the lines -of trenches. Overhead a German aeroplane had crossed the French -lines――the anti-aircraft guns had opened fire――little puffs of -cloudlike smoke appeared in the sky underneath the plane as it rose to -higher altitudes. French planes arose in pursuit and finally the -German plane disappeared from sight over its own lines. Directly -overhead a bird was singing in a tree just as cheerfully as if there -was no such thing as trouble in the world. Looking back in the -opposite direction I could see women and young girls working in the -vineyards. - -As we started to leave the spot Pearl pointed to a town nearby on our -left. - -“That is the town of Ludes,” he said. “Notice where it is, because you -will have to go there when on duty.” - -I looked in the direction that he pointed, little realizing that the -town of Ludes would be forever associated in my mind with the most -tragic incident of my service in France. - -Then we turned and drove back to Louvois. That was the full extent of -my training for front line work. I was informed that I had qualified -as an ambulance driver. - - - - -V - -“Car No. 13” - - -Having been duly declared a qualified driver, I was assigned to a car -which happened to be number 13, but as I am not particularly -superstitious this did not make me nervous. - -Then I was sent to post for duty out at the town of Ludes. Here we had -our headquarters in a little Swiss chalet hidden behind a clump of -trees; though within sight and sound of the war, it was peaceful -enough, at least for those on war duty. Everything is comparative. -Before many days had passed I was to see that peaceful little chalet -stained with blood. The place was equipped with a telephone bell, -which would signal when a car was needed at a front line post. Those -on duty here answered the calls in rotation. - -About noon of my first day on duty a call came in for two cars. One of -the cars was to carry wounded men back to the town of Epernay, the -other car was to go to the extreme front line post. One of the calls -was for Joe Patterson of Pittsburgh, the other call was for me. Out of -politeness to a new man “Pat” gave me the choice of runs. - -It seemed to be much easier to get right into the serious work than to -have the suspense of waiting, so I chose the run to the front line -post. I started off over the hills, through the ancient town of -Verzeney, famous for its wines――through the winding streets, turning -sharply at a corner――down a long steep hill hidden from view of the -enemy by camouflage――past what was known as the Esperance farm till -finally I reached the post. Here I stopped my car and waited. Here -there was a canal, the waters of which had been let out, and into the -canal banks had been built little dug-outs. In the one where I was to -wait and sleep until needed were two rough cots, a shelf on which -there were some rather dirty eating utensils and a loaf of dry bread. - -During the afternoon there was intermittent firing but no great -activity on either side of the lines. Occasionally an aeroplane would -fly overhead. Once during the afternoon a German plane flew over in an -effort to attack an observation balloon, but was successfully driven -off by the French. - -The afternoon passed quickly enough without having my services called -for and at supper time I had my first meal of trench fare with French -poilus for company, a cup of hot soup, a chunk of meat, a slice of -bread and a cup of coffee. The cook who served us was a big fellow -with a black beard. He was killed a short time after and his body lay -all day in a nearby dug-out. - -After supper I clambered over the canal bank and walked along the -empty canal bed observing the marks of German shells. Then there was a -sudden volley of shots from a French battery near at hand, the guns of -which were so carefully concealed that I had not observed it. I -quickly clambered back over the “safe” side of the canal bank and -waited. - -I began to feel restless and to wonder when I would be called to get -out into the battle of the night. - -In the meantime the firing had increased on both sides of the lines. - - - - -VI - -The “Crusader” - - -It was some time after nine o’clock and growing dark when a French -soldier came up and handed me a slip of paper bearing a message which -had just come over the telephone. The message conveyed instructions -for me to drive down the road a couple of miles to a front line -dressing station, where I would find wounded who had just been carried -in. I was informed that the call was urgent. Though I am not fearless -by any means, I did not feel frightened as I walked out to my car and -started the engine; but I noticed that my heart was beating rapidly. - -A few French soldiers waved to me and called “Au ’voir” as I got in -the seat and was off down the road, first to the left, then to the -right, then straight ahead as fast as I dared drive. The road took me -directly in front of the French batteries, and in the growing darkness -the flashes of fire from the guns and the concussion in my face made -it seem as if they were firing directly at me, not over me. I drove on -till I reached the post to which I had been sent, then backed up my -ambulance around near the entrance to the dug-out and stopped. An -officer stepped up and shook hands with me and in English said: “The -American drives fast.” - -He explained to me that the wounded were being cared for and would -soon be ready for the journey. A small group of silent stretcher -bearers were standing near the entrance to the dug-out. The firing -increased in intensity――the battle of the night was on. The officer -remarked to me: “The Germans are very angry.” I handed the officer a -cigarette and lighted one myself. I have found that tobacco is a great -solace to the nerves when under fire. We continued our broken -conversation. “Do you come from New York?” he asked. - -“Near New York,” I replied. Every place east of Chicago is near New -York when you are over three thousand miles away. - -“Do you like champagne?” he inquired. It was not an invitation, he was -merely getting my point of view. We were standing within a few miles -of the richest champagne producing vineyards in the world. Then I -looked in the direction of the dug-out, into the dimly lighted -entrance, and I saw stretcher bearers slowly coming out bearing a -wounded soldier and I braced myself for the first shock of the horrors -of war. Gently the wounded soldier was lifted into my ambulance, then -two more wounded were carried out. I closed and fastened the back -curtain of the car, started the engine and climbed into the seat. -“Drive gently,” said the officer, shaking hands with me. “Thank you, -good-night,” and I started on the return trip, in the dark without -lights. - -As I drove back to the town of Ludes, troops were moving to the front -under the cover of darkness and I was obliged to blow my whistle -continually. Now and then a large camion would loom up suddenly in the -darkness directly in front of me――a little blacker than the darkness -itself――that is how I could see it. I would turn quickly to avoid -being hit. We always drove without lights at the front. Half way up -the long hill leading to the town of Verzenay the water was boiling in -the radiator and the engine was hitting on three cylinders――I wondered -if I would make the heavy grade; I wondered if a bursting shell would -sweep the road; I wondered if I would get the wounded safely back; I -wondered about many things in those moments on my first night drive in -the dark. On through the dark winding narrow streets of the town of -Verzeney, at one place driving with difficulty through a flock of -sheep, on in safety to the town of Ludes to the building which served -as a field hospital. I felt a great sense of relief when I drew up at -the entrance safely back with my wounded. - -Then I drove back to the little Swiss chalet to await my next call. -Before turning in for a little sleep I stood in the entrance listening -to the continual firing along the front and watching the signal -rockets, the star shells, and the flashes of the guns. Then I went -inside, climbed over a sleeping companion, found a vacant space on the -floor, rolled up in my blanket, put my coat under my head and went to -sleep. - -I had not been sleeping long when the telephone bell rang. It was my -turn out again. This time I received instructions to drive over into -another direction to a château which served as the headquarters of a -French General. Château Romont it was called. There I was to await -further instructions. So I parked my car in the courtyard and was led -down into the dark cellar of the château. As I entered I could hear -heavy breathing――evidently some one was sleeping there. A light was -made and I was shown a rough cot where I might sleep until needed. -Again I curled up in my blanket and was quickly asleep. I had only -been asleep for a few minutes when some one touched me on the shoulder -and awakened me. This time I was to drive over to the shell wrecked -town of Sillery. It was then about four in the morning, the dawn was -grey and then a streak of red in the east over the line of German -trenches. The firing had subsided to some extent. - -Into the shell wrecked town of Sillery I drove, and I could see in the -growing light that many houses had been levelled to the ground and -there were none at all that did not bear the marks of battle. I drove -into a court yard, inside the gate of which there was a large shell -hole. Stretcher bearers were waiting for me――there was no delay this -time. Two men were lifted into the car. They were suffering very great -agony but I could see no marks of blood. I understood at once――they -were victims of poison gas. - -This time there was no need to drive slowly back again to the town of -Ludes to the hospital. It was broad daylight when I reached there. A -sleepy stretcher bearer came out carrying a lantern, which was not -needed. The two men were lifted out of the car and lowered to the -ground. They were writhing in agony――one of them rolled off his -stretcher into the gutter, and died at my feet. That was my first -night on duty at the front――that was my baptism of fire. - - - - -VII - -“Raising Hell Down at Epernay” - - -Sir Philip Sidney, for whom I believe I was more or less hopefully -named, gained immortal fame by giving his last drop of water to a -dying comrade on the field of battle. I desire to mention that I gave -my last cigarette to a perfectly live stretcher bearer while under -shell fire. For twenty-four hours I had been stationed at the dug-out -in the canal bank in front of the Esperance farm; the place where I -had been the first time I went to post. Several time since I had gone -there and now felt quite at home in those surroundings. - -During the last twenty-four hours shells had been coming in with a -fair regularity. The Germans were endeavoring to drive out a battery -which evidently had given them some annoyance. In a comparatively -short period I counted more than a hundred shells, shrieking over my -head, striking and bursting a hundred yards in front of me, throwing -the earth in every direction, the rocks and pieces of shell spattering -around close to where I stood. Several trees were cut down by the -bombardment and they fell like so many twigs. - -I had been alone during those twenty-four hours and had begun to -realize that waiting for a run was quite as trying as the run itself, -particularly as I could observe that when I did start I would be -obliged to pass uncomfortably close to the corner where the shells -were hitting. Toward the end of the afternoon some wounded came -straggling in. After twenty-four hours under whistling shells I was -glad to start back to Ludes and to a cigarette. - -I spent the early evening at the little Swiss chalet. About nine -o’clock I received a call to carry two wounded officers back to the -town of Epernay. It was a beautiful, cool, moonlight evening and I -enjoyed the prospect of the peaceful drive away from the sound of the -war, not realizing that there was a rather interesting evening in -store for me. I drove across the Marne into the town of Epernay at -about eleven o’clock and took one of the wounded officers to the -principal hospital there. The other officer I was instructed to take -on to another hospital, located at the top of a hill on the outskirts -of the town. Epernay is an old town and the streets are narrow, -winding, and quite as confusing as Boston, particularly when driving -at night without lights. - -As I pulled up the hill out on an open road in sight of the hospital, -I saw a flash of light in the sky, followed by a sharp report――then -there was a shower of lights much like rockets followed by a series of -reports. As I stopped the car in the hospital grounds and was -assisting stretcher bearers to lift out the wounded officer, I could -hear the droning of several aeroplanes overhead but could not see -them. Hospital aides, half dressed in white trousers, and in bare -feet, were crowded in the doorway. Everyone understood what was -happening. The Germans had come over in numbers for one of their -periodical raids. - -Incendiary bombs were now dropping down in the heart of the town where -I had just passed. Church bells were ringing as a warning for all -civilians to take to their caves――a warning which seemed quite -superfluous. There was a terrific explosion, followed by a burst of -flames which lighted up the sky. A building had been set on fire. -Standing beside my car, I took off my fatigue cap and substituted my -steel helmet, which I always carried with me when not actually wearing -it. Steel helmets have saved many lives. The bombardment became more -furious as time went on――bombs were dropping on various parts of the -city. Several powerful searchlights began to sweep the heavens and two -broad shafts of light crossed, and in the cross they held in view a -German plane. It was flying low and not far overhead from where I -stood. The two searchlights followed the movement of the plane and -held it in the cross while the anti-aircraft guns opened fire. I could -see the shells bursting underneath the plane but none hit and quickly -the plane flew out of range and disappeared from sight. But the -raiders continued the bombardment. - -Having waited for some time for the firing to cease I decided to start -back for post at Ludes. Unless there was very good reason for not -doing so, we were expected to return to post as soon as we had -finished the errand which had taken us away. To drive back it was -necessary for me to return through the heart of the town were the -bombs had fallen and were still falling. So far as possible I kept on -the “shady” side of the street out of the moonlight, pausing at every -corner for a moment. Sometimes there would be a deafening crash near -by. I would stop――put my head down and my arms over my face, then -would drive quickly into the next street. I passed the postoffice just -after it was hit――pieces of shutters, doors and glass were littered -about the street and I feared for punctured tires. I drove on a short -distance, turned around and went back, pausing in front of the -demolished building, but could hear no sound. The street was -absolutely deserted. As I continued my drive over the deserted streets -the only sign of humanity I would see was an occasional soldier with -his gun standing in the comparative shelter of a doorway. - -Before leaving the town I stopped for a moment at the hospital where I -had first been and an officer who could speak a little English asked -me to stay all night in the “cave.” “It is a bad night to be out,” he -said. The invitation was alluring, but I decided to push on to Ludes. - -To get out of the town I must recross the bridge over the Marne, close -to the railroad station, and I had been informed that raiders were -making a particular effort to hit the station. As I shot out across -the bridge in the broad moonlight, in full view from above, I could -see some freight cars burning. I wished that some friend were sittting -beside me, but I often wished that on these lonely nerve-racking night -drives. - -When I drew out into the open country I felt no inclination to turn on -my lights, for I had heard of a staff car just a short while before -driving over the same road. The driver had turned on his lights. The -target was seen from an aeroplane――a bomb was dropped with accurate -aim, demolishing the car and killing all the occupants. - -Reaching Ludes some time in the middle of the night, I stepped over -the form of Curtis, who, curled up in his blankets, was asleep on the -floor. He awoke and sleepily inquired: “Who’s there?” I told him. -“Anything going on?” he inquired still sleepily. - -“Seem to be raising hell down at Epernay,” I told him quietly, so as -not to awaken anyone who might be sleeping. - -“That so?” muttered Curtis, and with no more show of interest went -back to sleep. - -The next day I learned that many houses had been destroyed. Five -wounded soldiers had been killed in the hospital where I had been -invited to spend the night. - - - - -VIII - -Norton’s Last Ride - - -Frederick Norton and I were new men in an old Section. We were new men -in an old crowd, consequently when we joined the Section we made no -effort to break into any old established circles. When off duty -together, he and I were accustomed to taking long walks across the -fields and to the towns behind the lines and on these walks I learned -to know what I already believed――that he was a man of exceptional -character, quiet, unassuming, modest; a gentleman in the best sense of -the word; a delightful companion, an ideal soldier. On one of our -walks we talked some of spending “permission” together on the coast of -Brittany. - -I remember when I went to post for the first time Norton stepped up to -me and shook hands, wishing me luck and an interesting trip. That -established a custom between us. After that we always shook hands when -either one or the other of us started for post. - -When we had been in the Section for a short while we were invited to -join three of the older fellows and to transfer our cots to a tent -underneath the trees just outside the grounds of a very beautiful -château, owned, I believe, by M. Chandon, of Möet & Chandon. We -naturally accepted the invitation with pleasure and thus we became -established as members of the old crowd. Formalities ceased from that -time. - -The château had been converted into a hospital and at night a lighted -red cross over the large iron gates showed the entrance to approaching -cars. - -We had some pleasant evenings under the trees when off duty, even -though we could hear the distant firing of the guns. We sang some, a -guitar and mandolin also furnished music. We listened to New Townsend -reminisce about his experiences in Belgium in the early part of the -war. Frank Farnham and “Red” Day occasionally sang a duet without much -persuasion. With difficulty “Farney” was prevailed on to yodel. On one -occasion Ned Townsend danced the dance of the seven veils by -moonlight. Sometimes we would hear the whirr of an aeroplane overhead. -The light in our tent would be extinguished by the first man who could -reach it and silence would reign. - -So in spite of the war there were many pleasant moments. A spirit of -comradeship grew up between us all. Under such conditions, sharing the -same dangers, the some hardships, the same pleasures, we grew to know -each other better in a short space of time than would have been -possible in years in the ordinary peaceful walks of life. - -Ned Townsend, the oldest man in point of service, remarked that the -best of fellowship had always prevailed in Section One――that it had -always been more like a club in that respect than a military -organization. He also mentioned casually that Section One had almost -always been lucky――very few casualties had marked its long, arduous -and dangerous career at the front. - -On the afternoon of July 12 I saw Frederick Norton starting for the -front, and, following our custom, I went over to his car, shook hands -with him and wished him “good luck.” I told him the next time we were -off duty together we must take a walk over the neighboring hills to -inspect a windmill which had been erected about the time Columbus -discovered America. Then he was off to the town of Ludes――to the -little Swiss chalet hidden behind the trees. - -That night was a bright moonlight night――an ideal night for avions. -Early in the evening those of us at Louvoise were having music under -the trees. A few convalescent soldiers from the château hospital were -sitting about in the grass, listening. As the moon came up and shone -through the trees I recall “Red” Day remarking: “The avions will be -over to-night,” and a short while after we heard the unmistakable -crash of an avion bomb down the road in the direction of Epernay. - -It must have been pretty close to eleven o’clock that Frederick Norton -was standing in the back window of the little Swiss chalet at Ludes, -from which place he could get a glimpse of the battle lines through -the boughs of the trees. He was waiting for his call to go to the -front. His call was soon to come. He no doubt heard the whirr of the -approaching aeroplane overhead――he may have heard the deafening crash -of the bomb as it struck the ground, making a crater in the earth and -riddling the walls of the peaceful chalet. But then the sound of the -war was forever silenced――for him. A piece of the shell had cut his -throat――another had pierced his heart. He pitched forward, then fell -backward on the floor. He had answered his final call. - -The following night I walked beside my friend Frederick Norton for the -last time. He was not laid to rest until after dusk because his burial -place was on the side of a hill in view of the enemy――in view of the -towers of the desecrated cathedral at Rheims――as fine a place as any -for a volunteer who had earned an honorable rest. - -There were French officers of high rank in the gathering to pay homage -to the Volunteer American――a priest, a Protestant chaplain, his -friends in Section One――a squad of soldiers under arms. As we stood -there in the growing dusk a German aeroplane flew overhead and swept -the roadside nearby with its rapid fire gun. All looked up but no one -moved. The benediction being said, we walked slowly away. - - - - -IX - -Bastille Day - - -July 14, 1917, was “Bastille Day,” the great French national holiday, -and the troops were greatly heartened by the fact that at last America -was coming over to help them win the war. French and American troops -were to parade together in Paris――the fighters at the front were to -have a special dinner, with a cup of champagne and a cigar. A few of -the men in our Section who had a short leave of absence coming due -were going into Paris for a couple of days. - -Personally, I was glad that I was going out to the front on duty. I -felt the need of active, strenuous work. During the forenoon several -shells came shrieking over the little Swiss chalet, striking in a -field a short distance back. A little while later I saw a dead soldier -being carried into the town by his comrades. One shell struck in a -field outside the town where a young girl was working in the vineyard -and she was obliged to desert her work and run for shelter. I wondered -if the Germans had observed the movements of our ambulances in and out -of the grounds of the chalet or whether they were merely observing the -French holiday. Some one remarked that following a custom of three -years standing, they would do what they could to disturb the holiday -dinner of the French soldiers. About noon a couple of shells struck in -the town of Ludes but did no great amount of damage. A few civilians -were still living in Ludes and in the kitchen of a little French woman -we ate our meals when not out on a run. We supplied the food and she -cooked for us. I remember during my first luncheon in that kitchen -seeing her send her little daughters off to school with gas masks -flung across their shoulders. - -“Bastille Day” was a fairly busy afternoon and that night there was no -time to rest. Sometimes it was a call to go out to the Esperance -farm――sometimes a call to run into the town of Sillery――sometimes to -report at the Château Romont back of Sillery to await further orders. - -That night I had no sleep at all, though I made several efforts. Early -in the evening I found myself at the Château Romont, and when I was -going to retire for a little rest I was not shown down into the dark -cellar where I slept for a short while the first night I had been -there. I was invited into a large back room in the château which had -once evidently been a handsome billiard room. On the walls were deer -antlers and a boar’s head. The billiard table had been pushed over in -a corner of the room out of the way and in its place was a table at -which officers sat poring over maps and reports. A telephone was on -the table and on the walls were large maps. I stretched out on a bare -rough “crib” to rest. One of the officers called an orderly and said -something to him which I did not hear. The orderly went into another -room and returned with an armful of rugs. He placed them in the crib -and once more I stretched out on this most comfortable couch. But just -then the telephone rang. I got up, pulled on my boots, put on my coat, -and as I started out the officer at the table smiled sympathetically -at me and said “Bon nuit.” - -Midnight in the little Swiss chalet. I had returned from a run and had -lain down to sleep just outside the room where two nights before -Frederick Norton had fallen. Again there was a call. Some time after -one o’clock, at the dug-out in the canal bank in front of the -Esperance farm, I again lay down, only to be called a few minutes -later. I drove down the road to a post I had not visited before, and -while the wounded were being placed in the car I was instructed to -shut off my motor for fear the Germans might hear and open fire. The -car being filled with three wounded men on stretchers inside, and one -less seriously wounded on the front seat with me, I started off for -Ludes. Along the road I struck a small shell hole which gave the car a -severe jolt and the wounded inside cried out: “Oh, comrade! comrade!” -In the morning I discovered that the jolt had cracked the front spring -of the car but the wounded had forgiven me for my poor driving. - -At Ludes the hospital was filled and I must push on back to the town -of Epernay to one of the hospitals there. As I drove into the town at -daylight I saw a strange sight. Straggling into the town were old men, -women and children, all looking worn and bedraggled. Some carried -blankets, some were pushing little carts in which were piled up -household belongings. Some of the women were carrying babies in their -arms. - -The night before a warning had gone out that an air raid was expected -and these civilians living under the shadow of the war had taken to -the “caves” on the outskirts of the city for protection. - -I reached the principal hospital in the town and, as frequently -happened, was sent to another hospital further on. When I arrived -there I was feeling tired, bedraggled, hungry and out of sorts myself -after the all night strain. But if I felt like complaining I promptly -changed my mind and decided to be cheerful. - -Stopping my car, I went around to the back and raised the curtain. One -of the wounded, a young fellow, looked up at me with the pleasantest -expression in the world and said: “Hello, boy Americaine! Good -morning!” - -But that is the spirit of the French. - - - - -X - -Here Kultur Passed - - -Toward the end of July we received orders that we were to move from -the Champagne region, but we did not know just where we were to be -sent. Early one morning, the order to move having come, we had loaded -our cars with tents, supplies, automobile parts, all the paraphernalia -of an ambulance section, and our personal belongings, and had formed -in a line on the main thoroughfare of the picturesque town of Louvois. -Stevenson drove up to the head of the procession, blew his whistle -once and every engine was started; he blew his whistle twice, and we -were off down the road in the direction of Epernay. The villagers of -Louvois were on the street to wave us “Au ’voir.” There were old men, -women and girls. The young men were all at the front. - -Outside the town of Epernay we drew up alongside the road and waited -further instructions. Some thought we were going to Belgium, others -said we were going down into the Verdun sector. Our French Lieutenant, -Reymond, had gone on ahead in his car for orders. Presently he -returned and we learned that we were to drive in the direction of -Verdun. - -Stevenson, at the head of the procession, blew his whistle and once -more all cars were started――soon we were rolling along the road. - -At noon we reached Châlons, where we had luncheon in a café crowded -with French officers. By late afternoon we reached the outskirts of -the town of Vietry, and as we drove into the town we saw a squad of -German prisoners, under guard, marching along the road. If they -noticed that we were Americans, they showed no emotion even if they -felt any. At Vietry we were to spend the night. We were shown to a -large barn in which to sleep. Some Russian troops had occupied the -barn a short while before and the straw littered about looked rather -risky. As it promised to be a clear night some of us decided to sleep -out in the open field under the trees. The cows were less to be feared -than the straw in the barn or even the avions above. - -[Illustration: The Last of Ambulance No. 4] - -Having parked our cars, several of us strolled to the banks of the -historic Marne and were quickly splashing around in the refreshing -though muddy water. Then over to a café in the city for supper. The -supper developed into a banquet. It was the first time in a great -while that the entire Section and its French attachés had all sat -together at one time and everyone off duty. Singing commenced before -the meal was half over, and if not all harmonious it was at least -hearty. The darkness came on but no lights were made in the room on -account of danger from the avions, but the hilarity did not die out in -the growing gloom. - -Roy Stockwell was obliged to sing several verses of a war song which -was called “Around Her Leg She Wore a Purple Ribbon,” in which every -one joined in the chorus, singing: - - “Far away, far away, - She wore it for her lover - Who was far, far away.” - -“Winnie” Wertz, the French cook, sang a pastoral song of peaceful life -on the farm after the war was over. One or two men tried to make -speeches but received scant encouragement. The singing continued till -late in the evening, when we wended our way back to the open field for -a night of peaceful sleep under the trees. As we walked through the -city on the way a quartette was lustily singing: - - “Far away, far away, - She wore it for her lover, - Who was far, far away.” - -No doubt the French inhabitants awoke to shrug a shoulder and -patiently mutter: “Oh, those terrible Americans.” - -The next morning we were on our way to Bar le Duc, a picturesque city -nestled between high hills. At the top of one of these hills, as we -started the steep descent into the city, we passed a large convent -almost totally destroyed by avion bombs. Bar le Duc is always subject -to air raids and shows many marks of the war on its principal streets. -Again we stopped for the night and here I slept on the sidewalk with -my head against a sentry box so that no one would fall over me. - -On to the town of Evres through a country, as we advanced, showing -more and more plainly the desolation and waste of the war. Through -towns deserted of all civilians, over roads dry in the midsummer sun -and unspeakably dusty from the continual travel toward the front. One -afternoon in Evres, Curtis and I dropped into the home of an elderly -French peasant woman for a lunch of delicious cottage cheese and a jug -of fresh milk. The peasant woman had a sad story to tell. Her husband -was dead; her son’s home in the village had been destroyed; he had -been taken prisoner and his wife had fallen victim to the advance of -Prussian kultur. - -At Evres we waited to move on to Verdun and there we learned of the -great offensive that was soon to take place and we watched the -preparations for it on a vast scale. We were deeply impressed. - - - - -XI - -Verdun - - -When we moved up on the morning of August first to take our small part -in the big offensive, we established our cantonment in the town of -Houdainville, within about three miles of the city of Verdun. The town -of Houdainville was conspicuously a war town, being deserted by all -civilians, crowded with troops and subject to intermittent shelling. -The houses were all old and many bore the marks of battle. Some of our -men were billeted together in the second story of a building which was -infested with rats. The quarters were so small that it was necessary -to crowd the cots uncomfortably close together. Others of us pitched a -tent in a barnyard. It was muddy, unsavory and very different from the -place at Louvais, where we had our tent pitched under the trees -outside the château of M. Chandon. We realized that we were not to see -the war at its worst and we felt reconciled to added hardships by the -fact that our Section had been assigned to the very serious work -ahead. - -That there was very serious work ahead, indeed, had been brought home -to us while having seen for days and nights the continual stream of -troops, heavy guns, supplies and munitions moving toward the front. We -had been told that preparations for this offensive had been going on -for months. - -Had I been so inclined, which I was not, there was little time to -complain of our surroundings――barely time to note them before I was -sent out to post duty. Now we were to be on post duty for twenty-four -hours and then off duty for twenty-four hours, in which to work on our -cars and rest. This schedule was based on all of the cars in the -Section being able to run, but there were times when some of the cars -were not available. - -I was sent out to a post at Cassairne Marceau, at the top of a hill -about three miles in front of Verdun, near the spot which marks the -extreme advance of the Crown Prince in his attack of 1916. Near here -the French had stood and said: “They shall not pass.” They never did, -and I am sure they never will. - -Looking back from Cassairne Marceau I could see the ancient fortified -city of Verdun, crowned by its cathedral on a hill. Close at hand were -the remains of barracks built shortly before the war. All about was -desolation, shell holes, pieces of exploded shells. In front of the -post was a graveyard and during my many times at that post there was -not a day that I did not see the dead being laid to rest. Here the war -was seen in its most hideous aspect. Sometimes a wagon would come -rumbling up to the post with dead piled up like so much cordwood. - -My first call to go from here to a front line post came before sunset. -The post was near Fort Vaux. An officer rode with me to observe -whether the road could be covered by a car. It was a road that no sane -person would undertake in peace times under any consideration. Down a -ravine between two hills, in a country laid absolutely barren by -continual shell fire, the sides of the hills were pock-marked with -shell holes; and where at one time, three years before, there had been -a beautiful forest, there was not now a tree stump, a bush or a patch -of grass. We drove along the road very slowly indeed, for there was -danger of breaking springs and axles in passing, as we drove close to -the artillery as they were firing. I was later glad for the -opportunity of seeing that road before sunset, for I sometimes covered -it afterward in the darkness without lights. - -We reached the poste de secour, picked up three wounded artillerymen -and returned with added caution to Cassairne Marceau. It was very -trying when we wanted to drive fast, in order to get back as quickly -as possible to a place of comparative safety, that we were obliged to -drive most slowly to save our wounded and our cars. - -Sometime around eleven o’clock that night I lay down on a stretcher in -the dug-out at Cassairne Marceau to snatch a little sleep while -waiting for my next call. At that time I was still in good condition -and had not yet suffered from great fatigue or undue nervous strain -and consequently could sleep at any time and in any place that the -opportunity offered. Later on I was to become so fatigued and my -nerves were so shaken from the continual strain that I could not sleep -at all. The dug-out served as a dressing station and was equipped for -operations――surgeons were in attendance there. The place had the odor -of a hospital, with the added unpleasant damp odor of the underground. -Not a very satisfactory place in which to sleep, but we slept there -many times. - -I was just dozing off when I heard voices, footsteps and a moaning -which was very distressing; and I was sufficiently conscious to -realize that some one badly wounded was being carried in. But I must -rest――I must sleep while the opportunity offered, so I dozed fitfully, -never being quite unconscious of the fact that close by me an -operation was being performed. Finally I was fully awakened by some -one touching my foot. I sat up――the operation had been completed and I -was to take the desperately wounded man back to a hospital in Verdun. - -It was well past midnight when the man was lifted into the car and I -started on my dark ride, driving slowly. I had not yet been inside the -walled city of Verdun. I did not know just where the hospital was. I -had simply been informed that by crossing a certain bridge, entering a -certain gate and turning down a certain street I would find it. I -carried few wounded men who moaned in greater agony than did this -soldier as I drove on back to Verdun. I found the bridge and crossed -it. I passed through the gate inside the city walls and I drove slowly -through the dark, silent, apparently deserted city. It seemed indeed -like a city of the dead. I came to a square and in the darkness took -the wrong street. I was doing the best that could be done, and I hoped -the wounded soldier would live till we reached the hospital. I wished -for someone to talk to――for some one to help me find the way. Finally -I saw a sentinel on duty and he directed me down the right street and -before long we came to the house which was serving as a hospital. - -That was my first entrance into the ancient fortified city of Verdun. -When I saw the inside of my car at daylight I was glad that we had met -with the sentinel when we did, for I think there could have been but -little time to lose. - - - - -XII - -Awaiting the Big Attack - - -We had not been many days at Houdainville when we received orders to -move up to Beveaux, just a short distance outside the walled city of -Verdun. The big attack had not yet taken place but was expected at any -time. In the meanwhile the artillery activity was daily increasing. - -At Beveaux there was a large hospital which was almost vacant when we -moved up there and pitched our tents. It had been made ready for the -big attack and would probably accommodate fifteen hundred wounded. The -preparations for the offensive were most impressive and tended to make -us thoughtful. Though we were now closer to the front, the location of -our cantonment on high, open ground was a welcome change to all of us. -Those of us who in Houdainville had our tent in that muddy, unsavory -barnyard were glad to get out. Those in the Section who had slept in -the crowded, rat-ridden house, were more than glad of the change. That -we were close to the war, in fact actually under it, even when off -duty, was impressed upon us at supper time that first evening at -Beveaux, when several shells struck within the hospital grounds and -some hit the large stables adjoining, killing horses and wounding men. -We all ran for shelter, and supper was delayed for some time. The -hospital was shelled on several occasions after that. - -During our stay at Beveaux we usually retired at night with most of -our clothes on, partly on account of the avions and partly because our -work was so arduous that we were likely to be called in the night, -even when supposedly off duty. On retiring we always had our steel -helmets and gas masks within reach. Frequently at night when the -avions came over we were obliged to get out of bed and run for the -nearby trenches. A canvas tent affords mightly little protection -against shell fire! - -We expected to be at Beveaux for but a very short time before being -sent back for a rest, but the days went on, the long nights went on -and the weeks rolled around before we were relieved. - - - - -XIII - -Under Fire in an Ambulance - - -Twenty-four hours on duty――twenty-four hours off duty: that was the -schedule in the Verdun sector, based on all the cars being able to -run, but there was not a day or night that cars were not put out of -commission, which meant that the work of those who were running was -increased. Theoretically speaking that was the schedule; practically -speaking there was no schedule. Sometimes we were on duty thirty hours -at a stretch, though perhaps in that time we could snatch a little -sleep between runs; sometimes there was no sleep at all. The days were -bad, the nights were worse, and day or night, either on or off duty, -we were always under fire. Almost every time a man came back from post -he had an experience to tell――it seemed that on our runs we escaped by -a matter of seconds; shells were always hitting just behind us, in -front of us and around us. We saw bloodshed all the time. The -Twenty-third Psalm speaks of “the valley of the shadow of death.” That -describes the desolate land about where we were. Verdun will go down -in history as the slaughter house of the world. This was real warfare. - -We were working hard all the time but we were buoyed up by the fact -that soon, almost any day, the big attack would take place and then we -would be sent back for a rest. The attack was to have taken place on -August first but was postponed from day to day so that more guns might -be moved into position, and more supplies, munitions and men moved up. -Every night on the road we saw that endless procession of supply -trucks, munitions, guns and men. - -We were covering many posts――we were getting very tired even before -the attack took place. One night the General commanding a division at -Fort Houdrement asked for more cars to be stationed there and he was -informed that were no more cars to spare. - -He asked “Why?” and was informed that all of our cars were out. - -He asked “Where?” and he was informed of the various posts that we -were covering. He expressed great surprise. He thought we were merely -serving his division. We were serving an entire Army Corps. - -Fort Houdrement was a bad spot and it was a hard road to travel to -reach there, but bad as it was there were other posts which most of us -came to dread more. I first saw Fort Houdremont in broad daylight. -Before that our cars had only gone there at night, because the road -was so exposed. That I first went there in daylight was not because of -bravery on my part or because of a desire to establish a precedent. It -was just the result of an accident. - -I had turned in to sleep one night――or to sleep as much of the night -as might be possible. A couple of my friends had also lain down to -sleep. As we lay in the darkness under the shelter of the tent we -could hear the firing of the artillery all along the front. Then a -sudden gust of cool wind blew the flaps of the tent and we heard the -patter of rain above our heads. A thunder storm was coming on. The -sound of the thunder was mingled with the noise of the artillery. Our -tent was occasionally lighted by flashes of lightning and I could see -my companions lying awake on their cots. The rain came down in -torrents, the lightning became louder and the roar of the artillery -less distinct, until when the storm had reached its height the pouring -rain and the sound of the thunder drowned out the sound of the -artillery. And as we lay there one of my friends spoke up in the -darkness and said quietly: “Phil, it sounds as if God in Heaven is -still omnipotent.” And I said: “Yes, I am glad that God in Heaven is -still omnipotent in spite of the fact that the tent is leaking right -over my face.” Then I pulled the blankets over my head and dozed off -to sleep――but not for long. - -I was soon awakened and told it was my turn out. It was still raining -hard and I could hear the thunder and see the flashes of lightning as -I bundled up and went out to my car and started out to find Fort -Houdremont. I had never been there. I merely had a general direction -as to where it was. It was a bad night for a ten-mile ride to a post I -had never been to. It was not quite midnight when I started. The roads -were slippery and crowded with traffic and progress was slow. About -four miles out traffic was blocked for over half an hour, part of -which time I dozed sitting at the wheel. Then once more motors began -to whirr, trucks were groaning, horses were pulling and tugging, -officers on horseback were shouting orders. - -The procession moved on, getting nearer the battle, and along the road -we could see the flashes of fire from the artillery and the exploding -shells as they struck. On through the town of Bras, a desolate shell -wrecked place, then on about a half a mile beyond. There I saw a -chance to make time and gain ground by pulling out of the procession, -driving ahead and crowding into an opening further on. A large motor -truck loomed up in front of me. I turned sharply to escape being hit -and ran into a ditch. I was hopelessly stalled. - -One of our cars, driven by Holt, came directly back of me. He stopped -to see if he could give me help. I told him it was impossible for us -to pull the car out. He saw that for himself and as he drove on he -shouted “Good-night” to me and I called back “Good-night” to him. - -He could not have gone far when I saw a shell burst directly down the -road over which he had gone. I wondered how close a call he had. Next -day he told me he had jumped out of his car and was crouching in a -ditch when the shell struck. - -I stood alongside of my car in the rain and mud, shells coming in -along the road as the procession of the night moved past me. Every one -had his work to do and must move on. Once four poilus paused long -enough to see whether they could help push my car out of the ditch, -but it was useless and they went on. - -There was nothing to do but to wait for daylight; and it was a long -wait. During the night two horses were killed beside my car. - -The dawn came on slowly, the rain stopped, the firing became less -intense. The procession of the night had disappeared I knew not where. -An empty ammunition wagon came clattering up the road, the driver -cracking his whip and urging the four horses to greater speed. When -the sun finally appeared I found myself alone in view of the enemy. -Alone, excepting for the two dead horses lying in the road. Then I -went for help. - -I walked back to the town of Bras and if it looked forlorn at night it -looked even more so in the daylight. Places where some houses had once -stood were now merely marked by débris tumbled into the cellars――dead -horses were lying about. A French ambulance gave me a lift back to -Verdun and there I found one of our cars which took me back to our -cantonment, where I reported my difficulties. Stevenson called to -Hanna, who was off duty, and in his car we three drove back over the -road to where I had abandoned my ambulance. - -I really was sceptical about finding anything more than a pile of -wreckage, but the car was still there and so were the two dead horses. -Before we proceeded to pull my car out with the aid of Hanna’s car, I -tenderly lifted an unexploded shell from under the rear wheel, carried -it over to the other side of the road and laid it down. - -Then on to Houdrement――Stevenson riding with me and Hanna following in -his car. Reaching there, we walked up the side of a steep hill to the -dressing station and inquired for any wounded that might be there. I -was caked with mud from head to foot. A French officer smiled at my -appearance. I saluted and he extended his hand. The French officers -were usually quite as polite to us as if we were officers ourselves. - -We found some wounded who would otherwise have been kept there until -darkness had set in. After that our Section covered the run to Fort -Houdremont in daylight with regularity; and in spite of the fact that -the road was exposed to view, most of us found the daylight run much -less nerve-racking than in the night. - -“Do the boche fire on ambulances?” I have sometimes been asked. - -“Certainly!” I have answered. - - - - -XIV - -The Big Shells Come Over - - -The days and nights went on, but still the attack did not take place, -but the artillery duels were growing in intensity every night. - -If there was any belief that preparations for the attack were not -known, this belief was dispelled when the Germans erected a sign over -their trenches reading―― - -“WE WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU ON THE FIFTEENTH”――but the fifteenth -passed by and――the attack did not take place. We were getting very -tired――we were becoming conscious that we had nerves――the driving -became more hazardous and terrifying with the increased activity of -the artillery. - -Early on the evening of August seventeenth, I was off duty and was -standing talking to some of the fellows, enjoying an after supper pipe -and watching the anti-aircraft guns popping at a German aeroplane when -Stevenson walked up. He said a telephone message had just come in -informing him that Stockwell had broken the front spring of his car -out at Fort Houdremont. I was to take a new spring out and Pearl was -to go along to help make the repairs. - -William Pearl was our volunteer mechanician and had been with the -Section for some time. Before that he had been a Rhodes scholar. After -the war he would practice law. - -Pearl and I started off and we had not gone far when it began to -rain――it frequently rained at Verdun. We stopped to slip our rubber -ponchos over our heads. Perhaps that brief delay was the cause of what -happened shortly after. A matter of seconds sometimes changes destiny -when at the front. I recall that on one occasion I slowed down my car -for a few seconds, just long enough to light a cigarette, and as I -paused a shell struck on the road, not far in front of me. I am sure -but for the lighting of that cigarette, the shell would have scored a -direct hit. Yet some people say that cigarettes are an unmixed evil! - -We drove on in the rain along the bank of the Meuse past the city of -Verdun, up a long hill along which were formed the troops, the -munition trucks, the cannon, the camions waiting to move toward the -front under darkness; and when the procession once started to move, we -knew from experience that progress would be slow along the road. So we -drove as rapidly as possible, and as we drove, we got into -conversation and Pearl told me that in all his experience Section One -had never known anything worse that what we had been through at -Verdun. I had heard Ned Townsend say the same thing, and Townsend had -been at the front most of the time since the war started. - -As we began to descend the long hill, we could see shells striking -near the road and when we reached the bottom of the hill, we came to a -large camion ditched and deserted on one side of the road and on the -other side of the road a large shell hole. It was now dusk and I -stopped my car to see whether I could pass without running into the -hole. Then we heard the terrific shriek to which our ears had become -accustomed――and then the crash. Pearl had stepped partly from the seat -and had crouched down――I had put my head down and covered my face with -my arms. The pieces of shell and rocks spattered around the car and -hit it in several places. Each fraction of a second I expected to feel -a stinging sensation but I quickly came to a realization that I was -not scratched. I raised my head and asked――“Are you all right, Pearl?” -Then I saw a magnificent display of calm courage. As he stood up, -Pearl replied as quietly as if he had discovered something wrong with -the front tire: “I think my arm is gone.” - -It was not gone but badly shattered. With nerves calm and head cool, -though he was bleeding badly, he got up on the seat beside me. The -nearest dressing station was at Houdrement and we drove on. I am not -sure, but I think a shell must have struck behind us at that moment -because I later discovered a hole in the rear curtain of the car and -the rear hub cap was cut as if by a steel chisel. - -At Houdrement we left the car at the cross roads and started to climb -the steep muddy embankment to reach the dressing post. Pearl was -losing blood and getting weak, but still calm. I am sure he was more -calm than I was. While his wound was being dressed I telephoned and -reported the accident to Stevenson. I reported that I would remain at -Houdrement with Pearl until he could be moved. There was some question -as to whether he might be obliged to stay all night, but it was -finally decided to move him back to the hospital at Beveaux without -waiting. - -It was now pitch dark and the roads were crowded with traffic coming -toward the front. Progress was extremely slow on the way back. We -would perhaps drive a quarter of a mile and then be held up for a -quarter of an hour. Shells were arriving and shells were departing. It -was a bad night, but all nights were hideously bad in front of Verdun. -Whenever we stopped, I would open the little front door of the car and -ask Pearl how he felt and always would come back the reply, “All -right.” Once we were held up for an unusually long time and I walked -ahead to see what was holding up the traffic. It was a large gun that -had become ditched and men and horses and trucks were pulling and -groaning and straining. Finally we were on our way and without further -bad delays we reached the hospital at Beveaux. It had taken us two -hours to cover less than ten miles. - -I saw Pearl carried from his stretcher and tucked in bed and then I -could not refrain from telling him what I felt: “Pearl, you have got -about the finest, coolest nerve of any man I have ever seen.” - - - - -XV - -Under the Shell Shower - - -Still the attack did not take place and still we were staying on and -getting very tired. - -On the morning and afternoon of the twentieth, I made several trips to -Houdremont. Late in the afternoon we heard that the long delayed and -much heralded attack would start that night. As I was returning to -Houdremont about five o’clock, Stevenson instructed me to wait there -until midnight for wounded and then to return and go off duty. - -At dusk began the most terrific artillery firing that I had ever -heard. There was not a second’s cessation in the firing――it was as -continual and rapid as the rolling of a snare drum. Standing on the -hill in front of the poste de secours at Houdrement in front of the -French guns the shells were slipping through the air; that is the way -they sounded, as if they were being shot along greased planes. I not -only heard the departing shells, I actually saw them――black spots -flying through space. At first I was sceptical. I thought perhaps my -vision had become impaired or perhaps it was the effect of deranged -nerves, but I asked White if he could see what I did and he said he -could. Night came on and soon the men in the trenches would “go over -the top” for the final rush. If it was a strain for us, the waiting -must have been a most terrible strain for them. There were several -other cars besides mine at Houdrement as night came on, but I would be -the last to leave. Stretcher bearers, their faces set and worn, came -in bearing wounded. - -Patterson’s car was loaded and he started back over the bombarded road -for Beveaux. Hanna’s car was loaded and he started back. White’s car -was loaded and at the foot of the hill his car broke down and under -shrapnel fire the wounded were transferred to another car. Kirtsburg’s -car was loaded and he started back. Then I was the only one left. I -sat down beside a stretcher bearer and we smoked in silence. The -waiting seemed unbearable, listening to the ceaseless thunder of the -guns. I fully realized, when I did start, just what I must pass -through to get back to the hospital at Beveaux, nearly ten miles away. -I wondered how much longer I must wait. I began to realize for the -first time how men were glad to be slightly wounded in order to get -out of that hell. Pieces of shell were spattering around where we sat, -so we went inside underground. A soldier who had been brought in just -a little while before was raving and fighting――he had gone insane. -Gendarmes threw him to the floor. - -At ten o’clock an operation was being performed, and as we stood close -to the operating table, my friend the stretcher bearer brought me a -cup of tea. I thought at the moment the strain of waiting to go into -the inferno outside was the worst experience I had ever known. But at -last the time came――my ambulance was loaded and I started back――not by -way of Bras, because gas was coming in and settling in the lowlands, -but up a steep long hill which at least would be comparatively free -from gas――every inch of the way passing artillery pounding -incessantly, so that I could not distinguish the difference between -the sound of arriving and departing shells. The flashes of fire in my -face were so blinding that I was obliged time and again to pause and -get my bearings, to avoid running off the road. - -Three times while pulling up that long hill, the engine of my car -stalled and I would climb over the wounded soldier sitting by my side -and get the engine started again. I felt fatigued almost to the -breaking point. I felt sure that if I reached Beveaux I would be -physically unable to drive again that night. I thought of the weary, -drawn faces of those stretcher bearers back at Houdremont, silently -going out and silently returning with their burdens. I thought of my -own face. This was not vanity――it was simply that my face seemed to -pinch at the cheek bones. - -[Illustration: Where Men Live Like Rats and With Them] - -On I went until my car, jerking and limping on three cylinders, drew -up on the grounds at the Beveaux hospital. But after the car had -stopped, it still seemed to be moving. Others told me they had -experienced the same sensation, when they had almost reached the point -of exhaustion. - -I walked over to our dining tent――stumbled over a guy rope and went -inside. I had absolute confidence in the forethought of Stevenson. I -struck a match, found some cold meat, a piece of bread and a cup of -pinard; then I tumbled into my cot. - -All along the front I could hear the incessant pounding of the guns, -like the rolling of a snare drum, and then I fell asleep. - - - - -XVI - -Aftermath of Battle - - -The attack had taken place――thousands had been killed and wounded on -both sides of the lines, but the French had taken many German -prisoners. They had advanced their lines――they had gained important -hills. The Germans had been driven back. The attack had been a -success. - -But still no relief came for us, we must stay on, “just for three or -four days longer,” through the counter attack of the Germans. We -stayed on through the counter attack. Events were happening fast to -us. A couple of our men had taken sick――had broken down under the -strain and been sent in to Paris. Gamble had broken his arm cranking -his car and he was sent in to Paris. Oller developed appendicitis and -was sent to a hospital a little further back from the lines for an -operation. The hospital where he went was shelled and some of the -occupants were killed. Oller had stayed on much longer than most men -would in his condition. Holt was gassed――Buhl was gassed――Patterson -was gassed; but they stayed on. Drivers were all having narrow -escapes. - -Young Tapley had just loaded his car with wounded when a big shell -came shrieking in. Tapley threw himself on his face as the shell -struck and exploded close to his car. The sides of the car were blown -out and all the wounded were instantly killed. White was lying on his -face close to him. Another car was squarely hit and completely -demolished. Fortunately no one was in it at the moment. Cram, while -driving at night, wearing a gas mask, drove over a twenty-foot -embankment――he rolled out of the car on a dead horse――he fell into a -trench on a dead man. A gendarme on horseback, shot in the breast by -shrapnel, toppled from his horse directly in front of Purdy’s car. -There was not a single car in the Section which was not hit at least -once. “Red” Day, who had succeeded Pearl as mechanician, was kept -working night and morning and his untiring toil helped to save the -Section and keep it rolling. - -We had been relieved from the run to Houdremont and were now centring -our efforts on the posts as far as Fort Douaumont; and that was worse, -because the roads were exposed to view most of the way. The country -was laid absolutely barren and along the way, men burrowed holes in -the ground and lived like rats――and with them. In the day time we -might drive along those roads and see scarcely a human being, and yet -thousands of human beings were all about us. As we drove along, rats -would scurry across the roads. Once I saw a dead rat in the middle of -the road and it made me pessimistic. Dead horses were lying about -which long since should have been covered over had time permitted. -Sometimes wounded horses were staggering about the road, suffering -pitifully and impeding traffic. On one of these occasions, our French -Lieutenant Reymond drove out and with a revolver shot several of the -wounded horses and then had them cleared from the road. Under fire -Reymond was calm, he was magnificent. Back at Louvois I had liked -Reymond, but at Verdun I admired him. - -Along the roads I sometimes saw big shell holes, enormous craters -which made me very thoughtful. We were under fire day and night, -whether on or off duty. Overhead, we daily watched the air duels of -the avions. Sometimes a German plane would come across, flying -straight, swift and low to attack an observation balloon and as it -opened fire, we would see the man in the observation basket shoot -straight down through the air, then his parachute would open up and -perhaps he would land in safety. On one occasion I saw a French plane -collapse in the air and come swirling down like a dead leaf――down, -down, crashing to the ground, and I drove on not feeling a single -sensation. I was dead tired and had passed the stage of feeling a -thrill even of horror. - -At night the avions were always overhead, dropping bombs――sometimes a -munition plant would be hit and explosion after explosion would light -the sky for several hours. Still we stayed on――the relief did not -come. - -And while we were voluntarily and willingly, yes even very cheerfully, -under fire for the cause, it was most shocking to read in the papers -that disloyalty went unpunished back in the United States. Our troops -Over There are entitled to the assurance that it is not safe for -anyone at home to stab them in the back. - - - - -XVII - -In the Valley of the Shadow - - -On the morning of September first, after we had been at Verdun for a -month under fire, as we were eating breakfast, three Englishmen walked -into our dining tent. They were members of Section One, English -Ambulance Corps. They informed us that their Section had been sent up -to relieve us. We were elated. We invited them to sit down for -breakfast with us, for we wanted to be decently polite and reserved. A -little later it turned out they had been misinformed. They had merely -been sent up to assist us. We were dejected. We were to stay on, “just -three or four days longer.” - -The French were going to follow up their success of August twentieth -with another attack which would take place “’most any day” and then we -would be sent back for rest. The centre of this attack was to take -place in front of Fort Douaumont, and, if anything, it would be harder -on us than when we were at Haudremont on the twentieth. - -The attack took place on the seventh of September and while some -ground was gained, the success was not as decisive as the previous -attack. - -But the relief did not come for us, we were to stay on, “just for two -or three days longer,” through the counter attack of the Germans. - -Personally I was playing out very rapidly. I was losing the ability to -relax and recuperate when off duty. I was losing the ability to -sleep――I was reaching the stage of premonitions. I hoped that I might -last out until relief came. I wanted to finish decently. I was afraid -of myself――I was afraid I might turn coward――I was afraid I might turn -quitter. - -Then came a drive that I shall always remember. It was during the -counter attack of the Germans. I shall always remember it, for one -reason, because I was almost tempted to turn coward and quit. - -The wounded were coming in fast at Douaumont, both French and German, -and all of our cars were on duty――at least all that were able to run. -It was just about noon when I started, and the sun was shining -cheerfully enough overhead but it was hell on earth. A short distance -out I passed one of the English cars coming in and the driver shouted -to me to have my gas mask ready. I confess I had a feeling of fear. I -had seen the victims of poison gas and I had a greater dread of that -than I had of shells, if such a thing were possible, and besides a -couple of nights before during a period that I had been on constant -duty for thirty hours in which time I had punctured six tires, had had -a slight touch of gas and had felt rather ragged ever since. About -four miles out, I passed one of our cars and the driver called to me -something about big shells and gas. I stopped to call back for more -particulars, but he was too far back to hear me. I was wavering but I -drove on. A little further and I could see the shells coming in. I -could see the gas clouds. I stopped my car――I got out and then I had -the hardest argument I have ever had with myself. First I argued: “It -is suicide to go on, I am justified in turning back and reporting the -road is impassable.” Then I argued with myself, “But if I do go on and -am hit, the agony will be over with in a few minutes, but if I turn -back, the agony will be with me the rest of my life.” So I put on my -gas mask and drove on. - -Approaching the brow of the hill, I saw three of our cars drawn up -alongside the road. I stopped my car directly behind them and walked -ahead. The engine of one of the cars was still running, but the cars -were all deserted. At that minute a shell struck just at the brow of -the hill. The stop had undoubtedly saved me. I ran down an embankment -into a deserted dug-out and there I crouched, sweltering in my gas -mask. A few minuter later I ran out, jumped into my ambulance, passing -the three deserted cars and drove on, trembling so that I could -scarcely keep my feet on the right pedals. I reached the post at -Douaumont and there in the entrance was our French Lieutenant Reymond -in his steel helmet, calm and undisturbed, directing and assisting in -the loading of the ambulances. He quietly and good-naturedly took me -to task because my boots were not properly laced. I gave him a -cigarette and lighted one myself. Then I went inside the post where -tea was being ladled out to the stretcher bearers. This steadied me a -bit. I went out. The place was littered with wounded, mostly Germans. -Lieutenant Reymond assisted me in lifting wounded Germans into the -car. - -Then I drove back and went off duty. Some time in the middle of the -night I had a terrible nightmare and went through the whole experience -over again, and in it I dreamed that I had an urgent call to go back -to the same post. I woke up, but the dream had been so vivid that I -really thought I had received a call. I pulled on my boots and, partly -dressed, started for my car. Stevenson and “Red” Day who were out -there informed me there had been no call and sent me back to bed. -Stevenson gave me a drug to make me sleep. Later, I found that “Red” -Day deliberately fixed my car so it would not run in the event of my -receiving any more imaginary calls in the night. - -It was the day following that, as I was sitting on the end of my cot -about to lie down, a shell struck outside and a piece of the shell -about the size of an inkwell ripped a hole in the tent and struck on -my pillow. I picked it up while it was still hot, walked out and -showed it to Lieutenant Reymond and we laughed together over the -incident. Lieutenant Reymond’s laugh was fairly hearty. - -On the fifteenth of September, after forty-five days and forty-five -nights under shell fire day and night, we received orders to go on -repose. A little while later Stevenson packed me in his staff car and -started me on my way to Paris to see a doctor. - -I was not elated――I was utterly dejected. I had wanted to finish -strong and I had all but finished in the discard. “Take a month off or -as long as you need, but I want you to come back,” was Steve’s kind -and cheering parting, as the car pulled down the road. - -The men in the Section had all been wonderful. Lieutenant Reymond had -been magnificent, but I am sure but for the brainy, watchful, -sympathetic leadership of William Yorke Stevenson, the Section would -never have held together those long days and nights, in the seething, -shrieking, blood-stained hell in front of Verdun――“The valley of the -shadow of death.” - - - - -XVIII - -In Paris - - -On leaving the Section, I was feeling too tired and dejected to -experience any deep regrets that I would not be with my friends for -the celebration which had been planned upon reaching Bar le Duc. Also -I was feeling a little depressed in starting off for Paris broke, -penniless, not a franc in my pocket. As a matter of fact I had been in -that financial condition (if such a condition can be called financial) -for nearly two months, because a cablegram which I had sent to the -United States the latter part of July had not reached its destination. -Whether it had been lost in the ocean or had been confiscated and -hypothecated for what it was worth by the enemy, I shall never know. -Enough to say that I was broke. - -During those long weary days and nights and weeks, I had not possessed -the price of a cigarette and during that time I had grown to have the -firmest convictions that anyone who is opposed to sending tobacco to -the Allies is either most happily ignorant of the nerve-racking strain -of war or is out and out pro-German. - -Yet I was not allowed to suffer too much, for my friends in the -Section, evidently believing that I was honest, were very kind to me, -so I managed to have a smoke with a fair degree of regularity. I -borrowed two francs from Stockwell with which I bought a pipe in which -I smoked Ned Townsend’s “granulated” or even the terrible French -tobacco when I thought that Ned Townsend might feel that I was -imposing on him too much. I was rather clumsy at rolling cigarettes, -but Frank Farnham was very helpful in that respect. He became so -accustomed to performing this kind service for me that all I had to do -was to look at him and say, “Farney” and out would come his bag of -tobacco. - -A few days before leaving the Section, I had written in to Paris to -despatch a second cablegram to the United States and I hoped upon -reaching Paris I would find the essential reply waiting for me at the -banking house of Morgan-Harjes. - -Just as I was about to get into the Staff car to start for Paris, it -was “Farney” who came up to me and handed me twenty francs to see me -through the journey. - -It was midnight when I reached Paris and I was completely tired out. I -engaged a taxicab and told the chauffeur to drive to Henry’s, Number -Eleven, Rue Volney. Henry’s Hotel had been the semi-official -headquarters of Section One in Paris practically since the war -started. Here at least I could make myself known. - -To be sure, I had some excellent letters to people in Paris but I -certainty was not going to use them to establish credit, and I did not -feel up to social calls. - -Before the war, Henry’s had been something of a rendezvous for rich -sporting men, those who followed the races and the like. Since the -war, it was still patronized by those who had gone there before and -also by aviators, ambulanciers, army officers, French, English and -American. Henry had a transient business and he also held a clientèle. -When I had been there in June, I had seen certain well dressed, well -groomed young and middle aged men drifting in at certain hours. I saw -these same faces there again in September and also saw them again in -December. I wondered what their occupations might be, either real or -ostensible. Almost any day between five and six, Henry could be seen -shaking dice with his clientèle. - -Henry was a little short trim fellow with a florid face, grey -moustache and usually dressed immaculately in a frock coat. He wore -glasses when he took inventory of the cash register. When he took -inventory of people, he usually squinted his eyes into little slits, -so that people who were being inventoried would scarcely realize that -they were being noticed. Among foreigners and Parisians, Henry was one -of the characters of the city. I say “was,” because Henry has since -passed on to another world. When I reached there the hotel was closed -but a ring on the bell brought the concièrge to the door in his -pajamas and bath robe. I was shown to a room with a bed in it, white -pillows, clean sheets――and it was very nice. - -I was not long in getting to bed and not much longer in getting to -sleep, but in my sleep I was once more back at Verdun. I could hear -the aeroplanes whirring overhead――I could hear the bursting shells――I -could see the dead horses on the crowded roads, the rats and filth, -the desolation of the front. Not a very peaceful sleep; and when I -awoke I felt somewhat confused as I looked over toward the windows and -saw the heavy curtains drawn together. A clock was ticking on the -mantel. It was nearly nine o’clock. Beside the bed I observed a -telephone and without raising my head from the soft, comfortable, -clean white pillow, I reached for it. I might be broke, but at least I -was going to have one good meal to fortify me for the day. The office -answered the call. “Grapefruit,” I said; “soft boiled eggs, toast with -butter on it, coffee――and a pack of cigarettes.” I ordered an -expensive brand of cigarettes, as I was afraid it might hurt my credit -to call for cheap ones. Then I closed my eyes and dozed peacefully. - -A little later in the morning, I met Henry. We sat down on the sofa at -the foot of the stairs, and I told him Ned Townsend, Stevenson and the -other men in the Section had sent him their best regards. Then I told -him I was broke but added quickly that I expected a cablegram any -day――perhaps to-day. Henry was very nice and polite about it and told -me not to worry. - -When I went out of the hotel, I intended to go over to the offices of -Morgan-Harjes and learn whether a reply had come to my second -cablegram, but I really did not feel strong enough to stand any -unfavorable news. A hack driver coming along Rue Volney cracked his -whip and I almost fell on the pavement. My nerves seemed to be -temporarily shattered. I still had a few francs left that “Farney” had -given me, so I called a taxi-cab and drove to 21 Rue Reynouard, the -headquarters of the American Field Service. Dr. Lines looked me over -and informed me that my heart was in bad condition and that I needed a -complete rest. He suggested sending me out to a convalescent hospital -in the country, but I did not feel well enough to go to a hospital――I -did not want to see the inside of a hospital and――besides, I was -waiting for a cablegram from the States. Later in the day I pulled -myself together and went down Boulevard Haussmann to the offices of -Morgan-Harjes. About that place I remembered having written to my -partner in the banking business, that while their furniture is not as -handsome as ours, they seemed to have more customers. - -At Morgan-Harjes there was no news for me. - -I went back to Henry’s and retired for the afternoon. I arose for -supper, which I had in the café――and signed for it; a short walk as -far as the Café de la Paix, back to Henry’s and to bed, back to sleep, -back to Verdun――back to the shrieking shells, the whirr of the -aeroplanes, the rats, and the crowded, bloodstained roads. - -Waking the next morning, I reached for the telephone, breakfasted in -bed and dozed until noon, then walked over to Morgan-Harjes. - -No news―― - -After a fashion I have learned to study expression in faces; and on -the days immediately following, when I got out of bed and went to -Morgan-Harjes, I could tell by the expression of the clerk’s face -before he spoke to me that there was no news. I also noticed by the -expression on Henry’s face that I should begin to worry. He was not -wearing his glasses but he was squinting his eyes. - -I spent most of my time in bed. I needed the rest. The crowds, the -boulevards, the early evening café life, the movies, the Follies――none -of these had any allurement for me. I think it was on the fifth day -that I ran into my poet friend young Bob Hillyer of Harvard and South -Orange, New Jersey. He too had been out to the front with an Ambulance -Section and was now on his way back to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where -he was going to accept a professorship in the university which has -made that town fairly famous. - -I was very glad to see Bob Hillyer again in spite of the fact that he -told me I looked perfectly terrible and should really return to the -States and not think of going back to the front. He asked me to dinner -with himself and a friend of his. I protested, mildly suggesting that -they take dinner with me at Henry’s, but the stronger will prevailed -and the three of us had dinner together at a little quiet outdoor café -underneath the awnings. - -They walked back to Henry’s with me, where my pride and hospitality -got the better of my judgment. - -Wouldn’t they come in and have a little cordial before going along? - -Certainly! - -We went inside――the cordials were ordered――I laid down three francs. - -“Four francs, fifty, Mr. Rice,” said George, who had come to know me -by name from having served me my breakfast in bed. - -I picked up the three francs, put them in my pocket and said, “Please -put it on my bill, George.” It is really terrible to be apparently -well-to-do and not have any money to do it with. - -Hillyer and his friend said “Good-night,” and I promptly went to bed. -It was a little past midnight I think and I had been fast asleep for -some time, back at Verdun with the bursting shells and scurrying and -scurrilous rats, when I suddenly became conscious of the fact that a -firm hand was resting on each one of my shoulders. I awoke with a -start and there stood Ned Townsend smiling broadly. - -“Get up,” he said. “Don’t you know it is your turn out to post?” At -the foot of the bed stood “Red” Day. They had just reached Paris and -informed me they had come on from the front to cheer me up a bit. -“Farney” was with them too. - -Why say I was glad to see them all? They sat on the side of the bed -and told me about the banquet at Bar le Duc and Ned told me that “Red” -and “Farney” were slated for the Croix de Guerre, which was very good -news. - -Townsend had received the Croix de Guerre a long time before. - -We had late breakfast together and they paid for it and then I went -around to Morgan-Harjes. I read the expression on the clerk’s face as -I stepped up to the window. When I left, I discovered there was a -spring to my step which had been absent on the previous days. - -I walked rapidly back to Henry’s and into the hotel. Henry was in the -hallway at the foot of the stairs. As he saw me, I observed the -expression on his face――he was not wearing his glasses but his eyes -were squinted into little slits. I knew what was coming as he said he -would like to speak to me. I cheerfully replied: “It is all right, the -cablegram has come.” - -When I saw Ned Townsend, “Red” Day and “Farney,” I told them they were -to have supper at a certain quiet little café of mine, opposite the -“Chinese Umbrella.” - - - - -XIX - -Aillianville - - -Though my leave had not expired, I decided to return to the front with -Townsend, “Red” Day and “Farney.” The Section had moved down into -Lorraine, in the foot hills of the Vosges, the land of Joan of Arc. We -found our Section in the town of Aillianville. There a barn had been -converted into a dining room and up in the loft some of the men had -placed their cots, while others were billeted in the homes of the -townspeople――plain but wonderfully kindhearted peasant folks whose -dress was in keeping with the surroundings and who splashed around the -muddy streets in their wooden sabots――and the streets were often -muddy, for it rained a great deal of the time. But in spite of -frequent rains it was none the less delightful here. It was a most -pleasant contrast to the desolation in front of Verdun――to see -unmolested forests, the foliage turning to autumn colors――to see cows -grazing in the fields――sometimes a dog on a frolic, barking at their -heels――to see peasant women sitting in the fields with their knitting -and keeping a watchful eye on the cattle――and the war not so very many -miles away. - -Ned Townsend and I lost no time in finding quarters in the home of a -peasant. The house, which could not have been built later than the -seventeenth century, had two rooms and a garret. One room with open -fire place served as a kitchen, living room and bedroom all combined. -A bed was built in the wall and during the day was hidden by curtains. -Here slept the patron Tourgant and his wife. Townsend and I took the -other room, which had two beds in it. One of the window panes was -gone, but this was none the less luxury. Our work was light and we -enjoyed the life to the fullest extent. We could retire at night with -a sense of security that we were not likely to be disturbed before -morning. The house stood under the shadow of an ancient church and if -we did lie awake, we could hear the clock in the steeple chiming off -the quarter hours. It was sometimes pleasant to awaken in the middle -of the night to hear the clock striking the hour and then to fall -asleep again with the thought that there were some hours left for -undisturbed rest. - -It was usually Madame Tourgant, with wrinkled face, bronzed like a -gipsy, who called us in the morning and set a cup of hot coffee by our -beds. Sometimes when we came in late, chilled and wet with the rain, -Monsieur Tourgant would get out of bed, pull on a few clothes, kick -the dying embers of the faggots on the hearth into life and heat a cup -of coffee for us. And so if there was some work to do, there was time -for rest and relaxation. - -In this country, it had once been the sport of kings to hunt the wild -boar. Now the kings were otherwise engaged, but it was still the sport -of peasants and poilus. Kings do not control all the sport there -is――especially now. - -One night we went out on a wild boar hunt, skirting the edge of a -thick forest, not far from Aillianville down in the direction of the -ancient town of Grand. Midnight, our hunt being unsuccessful, we sat -down on the ground in the moonlight and enjoyed the feast which we had -brought with us. We did not have another opportunity to go boar -hunting because of the rains, which caused Ned Townsend――or was it -“Red” Day?――to complain that the ground was too wet to sit on. - -But if we had been unsuccessful on our hunt, our patron M. Tourgant -fared better, bringing one in a couple of days later and the following -night we were invited to sit around the open fireplace while Madame -Tourgant put slices of it to sizzling over the faggots on the open -fireplace. She prepared other things for the supper too. Some French -soldiers that we knew were with us and I am sure ’most any king would -have relinquished his crown for a night, to have sat under those old -blackened rafters and enjoyed the sport of ordinary mortals. - -Sometimes in Aillianville we would drop into the little “Cheval Blanc -Café” to write letters or sit up at the open log fireplace with Madame -Julie and her husband the patron and while drying our feet which were -usually wet, read the romances of Alexandre Dumas and the like; -sometimes the butcher maidens from the neighboring town of Grand would -come driving along with their butcher wagon and from them we would -procure a slice of ham or bacon which Madame Julie would cook for us -with an omelette. Sometimes in the early evening, we played dominoes -in the “Cheval Blanc” for stakes which were not ruinous. In the early -evening Madame Julie’s niece Marie might drop in to help her with the -dishes. - -Marie was a cripple girl, but she was none the less the queen of all -Aillianville. Her father owned his own comfortable little home and was -the possessor of more cows than anyone else in the town. Marie’s -cheeks were bronzed from the sun while watching her father’s cows. Her -teeth shone white when she smiled. She had a noble brow and a regal -face. Given the opportunity of two or three years in a fashionable -finishing school, provided she did not become too highly educated, -Marie could have been transplanted to Madison Avenue or Rittenhouse -Square and scored a decided hit. I have it from one who lives not far -from Madison Avenue and confirmed by one who lives not far from -Rittenhouse Square. Marie will probably marry a poilu returning from -the war with one arm and a Croix de Guerre and live happily ever after -in the peaceful town of Aillianville. - -Sometimes sitting by the log fire in the “Cheval Blanc,” we would hear -the clank of wooden sabots on the stone pavement outside, the door -would open and old Jacques, the blacksmith of rugged voice and jet -black beard, would bluster in for his bottle of wine. - -We lived with the peasants and loved them. They were kind, polite, -chivalrous――they were real. - -On occasion, there was music in the evening in the “Lion d’Or Café” -further down the street. One night, toward the end of October, we held -a dance in the “Lion d’Or.” A guitar and a mandolin furnished the -music. The villagers came around in their wooden sabots. French -soldiers in their blue uniforms were there. Back in the shadow of a -corner, a group of officers sat enjoying the scene, no doubt wishing -they might take an active part. In the course of the evening, a young -fellow was lifted on a table and sang “Madelon,” a song popular with -the French just then. - -It was pretty close to midnight when a message came in that one of our -cars had broken down along the road about ten miles out. A relief -party was organized and the dance came to an end. - -It had been snowing in the late afternoon and evening. When we went -out of the Lion d’Or the moon was breaking through the clouds, and the -streets, tile roofs of the houses and the church steeples were white -with snow. - -Not one of us who was not a little sad a few days later on receiving -orders to move from the town of Aillianville to the ancient town of -Beaufromont, built on the side of a steep hill. We were glad that the -villagers also expressed sorrow at the parting. Some of those plain -peasant women were kind enough to weep a little as they smilingly -waved “Au ’voir” to us. - -Our old patron, the boar hunter Tourgant, was so anxious to bid us a -fitting farewell when we started in the early morning that he stayed -up most of the night. When we moved out of the town he was asleep in -the blacksmith shop of old Jacques of rugged voice and jet black -beard. - -As we drew up in line outside the village, someone commemorated the -departure in verse: - - Farewell, my Aillianville, in fair Lorraine, - Town where sun shines through the rain, - The “Cheval Blanc,” the “Lion d’Or,” - “Au ’voir,” farewell forever more. - I was with you when woods were brown, - When boars were hunted on the down, - When log fire crackled on the hearth - And in the evening there was mirth - And music in the town I love so well, - Oh, Aillianville, au ’voir, farewell. - -During our stay in Aillianville, Section One, American Field Service -Volunteers, was taken over by the American army and there ceased to be -any volunteer ambulance service. My work was done, but the Section -being short of men I agreed to stay on indefinitely until new men came -on. - -One day, to be exact, Thanksgiving morning, outside the town of -Neufchateau, on the road to Nancy, I saw some French troops drawn up -on review. A band was playing at their head. By a strange coincidence -I had heard that same band playing once before back in Houdainville as -those same troops were advancing for the big offensive in front of -Verdun. - -On this Thanksgiving morning, the review being over, the men stacked -arms and walked about the field. One of the soldiers walked over to -where I was talking with some friends. He wore a steel helmet, but -underneath the visor I could see a scar across his forehead and there -was a scar on his cheek. He asked me if I remembered him and I was -obliged to confess that I did not. He then informed me that on -September second, in front of Douaumont, when he had received these -two scars, I had carried him back. No wonder I had not recognized him. - - [Illustration: Rice Purdy - In Front of Verdun] - -Then as we stood there I heard another band playing in the distance. -It grew nearer and nearer till at last I saw an American flag rising -over the brow of the hill and back of it swinging along the road four -thousand men in khaki. - -I confess I felt a thrill! - - - - -XX - -Vive l’Amérique! Vive la France! - - -The delightful days at Aillianville will always stand out in my memory -in marked contrast with the forty-five days and forty-five long nights -that we spent before Verdun. I shall always remember a night in a -dug-out in front of Verdun toward the end of our long siege. The place -was dimly lighted. At one end was a table on which there was a -telephone. A French officer sat there writing reports and answering -telephone calls. “’Allo! ’Allo!” he would say, taking down the -receiver. Along the wall was a wooden bench on which sat two weary -poilus, their heads nodding under their steel helmets. On the floor, a -wounded soldier lay on a stretcher. Outside I could hear the firing of -the guns, the trampling of horses, the straining and groaning of the -heavy munition trucks pulling up the grade. - -I was very tired, in fact I had reached the stage of premonitions. I -felt that luck had been with me just as long as might be expected and -in the fagged, depressed condition of my brain I felt quite certain -that my next time out would be my last. I have seen others pass -through the same stage when they have been worn out. I suppose Alan -Seeger must have felt like that when he wrote his wonderful poem “I -have a rendezvous with Death.” - -As I sat there waiting for my turn to go out and expecting a call each -time the telephone rang, I got to thinking of my early impressions -upon reaching France. It seemed a long time since I had landed in -France. Then I got to thinking of my later impressions after coming to -the Front. To keep my mind from dwelling on what was happening -outside, where I must soon go, I took some scraps of paper and wrote a -brief summary of my impressions, supposing that it might be the last -words I would write. I had just finished writing when the telephone -rang. The officer took down the receiver, “’Allo! ’Allo! San Fein!” -The officer turned to me. It was my turn out. I put the scraps of -paper in my pocket, slipped into my heavy coat, put on my steel -helmet, shook hands with the officer and went out. - -It was a short run but a bad one, shells were arriving and shells were -departing. I found an Abri had been squarely hit and badly torn up. I -got four wounded, who were in very bad condition. I drove back and got -through. My premonitions were not realized. It was sunrise when I -drove away from the hospital and my work for the night was over. -Coming down the road I met Holt. He told me he was having trouble with -his car and he asked me to wait while he made some repair. I drew up -alongside the road, put my head down on the steering wheel and went to -sleep. A few minutes later Holt woke me up and we drove on together. A -short while later, over hot coffee, I confessed to Holt the -premonitions I had the night before. And then he confessed that he had -had them, too. Then I read to him what I had written: - -“I gained my first impression of France while sailing up the broad -Gironde River, flanked by its stately trees, its green and rolling -fields, its Catholic spires, its old châteaux and ancient monasteries. -I came on to Paris. I saw and admired that magnificent city which -stoically smiles through sorrow. I stood at the tomb of Napoleon but I -did not shed a tear; I sat in Nôtre Dame Cathedral on a Sabbath -afternoon, and there I saw women with faces sad but brave, kneeling in -prayer; I heard the organ’s sacred notes; perhaps I shed a tear, why -should I say? I sat at one of the many crowded tables in front of the -famous Café de la Paix and there I watched the Congress of the Armies -of the Allied Nations, sipping drinks, smoking cigarettes, passing the -time of day. I drove up the sloping, tree lined Champs Elysées at -sunset and through the Arch of Triumph. At its crest I saw the tinted -sky and clouds and tops of trees and as I drove on through the -peaceful groves of the Bois du Boulogne by moonlight I thought that -though I loved my native land I would love to live in France. - -“Then I came on out to the battle front. I passed through desolate -villages, past desecrated cathedrals; I saw deserted homes and shell -wrecked towns. I heard the thunder and roar of many guns, I heard the -crash of avion bombs, I heard the shriek, the whistle, the moan of -shells. I saw the horror and havoc that these things wrought, the -wounded, the dying, the countless dead. But through all the terrors of -the days and nights I saw the noble Nation, fatigued, yet with -Christlike resignation suffering and bleeding so that others might -live to enjoy an honorable repose. And I thought that the prayer of -this noble Nation must be the prayer of Christ: ‘O Lord, forgive them, -for they know not what they do!’ And as I saw these things I thought -that though I loved my Country, the land of Chance, though I loved my -own Flag, I should be willing to die for France, but it has not thus -far been willed and I am glad. I am glad to go on living and loving -France. She is our kin. Her blood is on our soil, our blood on hers. -She is our sister country. - -“Vive l’Amérique! Vive la France!” - - - - -XXI - -Afterthoughts - - -So now my story is told and as I close the pages of the book I pause -to think and wonder if ever again I shall see France. I wonder if -again I shall walk along the quays of the River Seine or up the -sloping tree-lined Champs Elysées, or wander with friends around to -the Café de la Paix, or if again I shall pass through the desolate -villages at the front and hear the shrieking shells, the aeroplanes -overhead singing in the night “Guerre, guerre, guerre,” their -monotonous song of death. I wonder if again I shall see those noble, -weary people of our Sister Country fighting bravely against the Iron -Hand; whether I shall go back to see our own flag being carried on to -final victory; and rejoice that America at last has ridden into the -field full armed, the Savior of France, as was once the Maid of -Orleans. - -I wonder if I shall resist or follow that invisible finger beckoning -to me――whether I shall listen to that voice whispering and saying to -me, “Come back”? - -I wonder if again I shall see the towers of Rheims Cathedral or stand -upon the hill beside the resting place of Norton? - -I wonder if again some day I shall walk into the peaceful town of -Aillianville and sit down by the crackling fire and visit my friend -Tourgant, the boar hunter, and his wife; whether I shall some evening -step in the “Cheval Blanc” and to Madame Julie and the patron, say, as -I have said before: “Bon soir, Madame, bon soir, Monsieur”; whether -sometime I shall sit with Marie and her husband, who will wear the -Croix de Guerre upon his breast, and with them talk about the war. I -wonder if I shall again go in the “Lion d’Or,” and, in happy memory, -hear the music as I did before, and if perhaps I shall see again my -friends of Section One in France? - -I wonder if I shall answer that voice which whispers to me as I walk -along the crowded streets, which whispers as I lie awake at night, -which whispers in my sleep and says to me――“Come back.” - - -FINIS - - - Footnotes: - - [1] Extrait de l’Ordre No. 238 du 19 Septembre, 1917 - Portant Citation d l’Ordre de la Division - 69ᵉ Division d’Infanterie - Etat-Major-1ᵉʳ Bureau - - Le Général Monroe, Commandant le 69ᵉ Division d’Infanterie, - cite à l’Ordre de la Division, les militaires dont les noms - suivent; RICE, Philip S., Conducteur à la Section Sanitaire - Americaine, 1 (20 Escad. T. E. M.): - - A toujours donné l’exemple du plus grand courage et de - devouement dans les circonstances les plus penibles lors des - evacuations des blessés pendant les attaques d’Aout et - Septembre, 1917, devant VERDUN. - Le Général Commandant la 69ᵉ A. T. - Signe: Monroe. - Extrait certifie conformé - A. G. le 29 Septembre 1917 - Le Chepd Etat-Major. - EDMOND CHAPILLIN, - 69ᵉ Division D’Infanterie - Etat-Major. - - - [2] Stuart Walcott, Princeton 1917, son of Secretary Walcott - of the Smithsonian Institution. The Princeton University - Press has published his letters, under the title “Above the - French Lines.” Walcott was killed in combat, December, 1917. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: - -Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like -this_. Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the -end of the book. Dialect, obsolete words, misspellings, and -typographical mistakes were left unchanged. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An American Crusader at Verdun, by -Philip Sidney Rice - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN AMERICAN CRUSADER AT VERDUN *** - -***** This file should be named 63520-0.txt or 63520-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/5/2/63520/ - -Produced by Carol Brown and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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