Canteening overseas, 1917-1919

Front matter

Class _lL5:i^

Book A

CDEQUGHT DEPOSm

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I At Sea 1

II Paris 10

CHAPTER I On Board La Touraine

Even now that we are out of sight of land, it seems impossible that I am actually off to France and, for the first time in my life, traveling alone. Everything has happened so quickly since the American Fund for French Wounded found an opening for me in Paris that I suppose I am still somewhat dazed and bewildered. The fact that I don't know what it will all be like and that I can't look ahead makes it easier to be happy and live in the present. Of course I have had a bit of a taste in New York of the work that the A. F. F. W. is doing but its Headquarters in Paris will be different in some ways I fancy.

I can't get over how lucky I am to have this chance for I realize how few girls of my age are getting across, and I understood the grit and pluck which made you encourage me on my great adventure and send me along a path which has proved so dangerous of late.

As we drifted down the river, in the sunset glow with two absurd tugs puffing alongside, I know that many eyes were moist and that the same thought was in all our minds. How many of this ship's company will see that sky-line again! It was very quiet, no one spoke much, and, little by little, the glow faded from the sky and one star after another appeared. I knew that you would be looking at those same stars down in Lakewood and that your thoughts and prayers were the same that filled my heart at that moment. Somehow distance does not separate, after all.

We waited near the Statue of Liberty until midnight — a rumor had it that a " personage " was to come on board. This individual was shrouded in mystery until we put to sea when it was given out that the party which had clambered aboard in the night was none other than the Italian Mission. Our spirits rose at once for, what with Frank Sayre on the boat and these distinguished Italian gentlemen, we shall doubtless be honored by a bigger convoy and so doubly safe. However, thus far we have but two destroyers following us. They can be seen distinctly outlined against the horizon, one on each side, and seem to be the same somber gray which all ships are affecting in this war. A sailor informed me this morning that we weren't in much danger for the first four or five days but that after that I might see some excitement. Here's hoping !

I have a small inside cabin and my roommate is quite a character. She is a native of Haiti, voluble and very portly — has four large pieces of baggage in our tiny stateroom, wears a costume which resembles a Mother Hubbard and smokes countless thin cigarettes that smell like incense ! When I appeared, there didn't seem to be much room for me but, as she says, luckily I am small, and I was soon tucked into the upper berth with my belongings! She really isn't bad and after looking me over carefully told me that she didn't think we would fight and from that time has beamed upon me ! She is going over to join her son who has been fighting with the French since the beginning of the war but will never go back to the Front now, having lost some fingers off each hand. She is so thankful, she says, that he hasn't lost more than his fingers.

La Touraine, July 3rd, 1917.

I have been moved to the Captain's table and as nothing but French is spoken I have had to take the fatal plunge also and find my vocabulary sadly shrunken after three years. However, I can understand perfectly and, as you know, I am more of a success as a listener anyway. The conversation is very worth while and I quite look forward to meal times. Frank Sayre is at our table, also Major and Mrs. Bert McCormick. The Major has been a member of the National Guard for years and went to Texas with his squadron. He is now on his way to join the A. E. F, His father was former Ambassador to Russia, as you know, and Major McCormick was over there as a guest of the Grand Duke and spent quite a lot of time on the Russian front, so, of course, he is absolutely up on that end of things.

I have made friends with some of the Italian Mission, also a French Baron, a cavalry officer who has been out in Wyoming buying huge quantities of horses for the allied armies. Among the Italians, Signor Nitti seems to me the keenest and most interesting. He is a very loyal and patriotic person; he urged his son, who is only nineteen, to enlist as soon as Italy entered the war. From his portrait the son is a fine looking boy. As he has recently been wounded, Signor Nitti is in a fever of impatience to get to him.

We have about a hundred and fifty ambulance men on board who are on their way to join the Field, or the Norton-Harjes Service, in France. Among them is a Buffalo Unit and we have found a lot of friends in common. There are also a number of very young lads going over to join the Lafayette Escadrille. They tell me that they couldn't get into the American Aviation owing to the very strict physical test. I like one of these boys especially, Billy Taller by name ; he is very charming and thoughtful and has kept me supplied with sweet butter, honey and other delicacies which were showered upon him on the dock by kind friends.

Mrs. C, whom you introduced, seems very nice, but since I came to her rescue with the bathsteward she loves me like life. She needn't have bothered, for shortly after our joint conversation on the subject of baths, she left her port-hole open by mistake and two tidal waves entered her' state-room one after the other. Mrs. C. emerged looking like a drowned rat!/

La Touraine, July 4th, 1917.

We have run into a hot wave and, of course, I am perfectly happy although thankful for my thin clothes. Every one knows every one else now and we are having a wonderful time. I feel like the only girl at a house-party of almost two hundred men. All the other women on board are married and older with the exception of one very charming Quaker bride who is about my age. It's an interesting bunch for, of course, every one here is going abroad with some definite work in view which makes them more or less worth while. This morning we had a very moving meeting to celebrate the first Fourth since our country entered the war. Frank Say re and Major Mc- Cormick both spoke exceedingly well. Every one was much stirred and sobered by the realization of the magnitude of the job ahead.

On account of the intense heat, Mrs. C. and I, accompanied by our life preservers, have been sleeping on deck. We each have a mattress and a steamer rug spread out and find this method of spending the night infinitely superior to our sutfoeating little cabins. Hosts of people have followed our example. At about 4 :30 a. m., the sailors begin to appear with theii' pails and mops and then the deck takes on a strange appearance ; pajama clad figures walking nonchalantly about !

La Touraine, July 5th, 1917.

Every day a little newspaper is printed on board. The news comes by wireless. The sheet appears about 11 a. m. To-day we are rejoicing over the fact that the Russians have resumed fighting on the southwestern Front — it is so vital just now that they should hold on, it takes one's breath away to contemplate what would happen if they didn't.

This letter, I know, is most messy but I carry it around all day with me and it takes on the atmosphere of the boat.

To-morrow we shall have been gone a week and it seems perfectly incredible. I have had and am having such a good time that I haven't really been homesick yet, but I expect, when I get to Paris and start work, I shall have an awful dose of it.

There are all kinds of rumors going about which seem to increase as we approach the war zone. The Captain won't open his mouth on the subject of submarines although there are supposed to be three pursuing us. All we know is that we change our course constantly and are zig-zagging our way across the Atlantic. Our two destroyers turned back after we had been out two days and since then we have had no convoy whatever. Every one misses the sight of those two watchful gray forms on the horizon and since they disappeared we have felt a very wee dot on a very big ocean !

La Touraine, July 8th, 1917.

Friday night we entered the war zone at seven o'clock but you would never know it. Aside from boat-drills and sleeping on deck people act as usual. The oflflcers on the boat are very particular about the drills ; several times the alarm has sounded and we have been taught just what to do in case we are hit. It's very funny to see the people rush below for their valuables, strapping on their life preservers as they go (which we always have near at hand wherever we are — on deck or in the saloon). In about five minutes we are lined up, divided into groups in front of our own particular life-boats which have been swung out over the sea ready to lower. Every one is checked off and each man is told what woman he is to save. (Great excitement at this point as no one of the men wants to save the lady detailed to him, but some one in another boat!) We all stand about looking too absurd and bumping into each other's life preservers on the crowded upper deck. Finally the signal is given which releases us, and we all file down again to take off the clumsy heavy jackets of safety and regale ourselves with various amusements on the deck.

Rumor has it that two ships have been sunk, one in the course ahead of where we were yesterday and the other about an hour behind us. No one knows how many lives were lost. Perhaps those three submarines were more fact than fiction after all.

It is thought that we should make Bordeaux by Tuesday morning if all goes well and that the convoy which should have met us days ago will be with us to-night.

This being Sunday, the boys on board are very much dressed up, that is to say they are wearing clean shirts and have their hair brushed! It's a perfect day, warm and cloudless, and I've been lying in the sun adding to my coat of tan. We all feel quite sad that the voyage is so nearly over — it has been such loads of fun and I shall hate saying good-by to every one.

La Touraine, July 11th, 1917.

Actually in sight of land and all danger past ! Last night was a great strain — Our convoy didn't find us till dawn. It was a wild night, with torrents of rain and a high wind. How our little boat pitched and tossed! No one was allowed below so we paced the deck all night. Finally the dawn came and the storm abated and we realized how fortunate we had been. Our chances wouldn't have been nearly as good of slipping through the submarine ring with a brilliant moon to show us up.

I am feeling wonderfully well; physically the trip has done me no end of good. We shall land soon now and in a few hours my cable will have reached you and your anxiety will be over. So ends the first lap of the journey. Now for the real venture. Thank God for the opportunity and for you unselfish ones at home.

CHAPTER II En route from Bordeaux to Paris

On landing yesterday I went straight to the Hotel de France and it certainly was good to have room to turn around in: as for a bed with real springs I greeted it with enthusiasm! Towards evening Frank and I took a long walk about the city. A port town always interests me and we saw it all at the loveliest time of day. The harbor was full of fishing smacks and small craft of all kinds and exquisite tones in the sails and rigging. The last rays of the sun cast a rosy hue over everything, making one think at once of Venice and the days before the war. Later we wandered through some of the oldest parts of Bordeaux and I really felt that I was abroad again ! The narrow winding streets and cobblestones, with here and there an ancient facade or doorway and everywhere, in the poorest alleys, a bit of a vine or potted plant in the windows. How do they manage to make it all so picturesque and alluring?

The women and the old men are doing everything and it is surprising to see the lady conductors. On this train they use women entirely, even in the dining car. The war hasn't robbed them of vivacity or their beautiful complexions and I believe they are even prettier in their simple black working clothes than before.

We are at present passing through the famous vineyards and I have never seen the country look so beautiful. The crops seem in perfect condition, thanks to the patient labor of these wonderful women, and the grain waves in profusion everywhere. I have longed for you at every turn, how you would enjoy it all. The poppies are in their prime and, as the train whirls by, they look like immense splashes of red — almost like stains of blood against the gold of the wheat.

I have just come in from a very excellent meal in the dining car — the food was served promptly by two French girls of the peasant type and with a speed that was wonderful, the car holding over thirty persons.

Paris, July 13th, 1917.

I'm so thankful for a spot which I can call my

own. Aunt T is wonderful, of course, had

flowers, fruits, candy, etc., in my room and is proceeding to spoil me as usual.

Mrs. Needham has already told me much about the work the American Fund for French Wounded is doing on this side. It seems that the greater part of its workers are being increasingly absorbed by the Red Cross and for that reason there are openings and I shall be able to step right in, which pleases me no end. The work will consist of packing, mostly. The supplies from the States are unpacked, sorted and divided among the hospitals all over France which the American Fund is supplying. My job will be packing the things into bales of burlap, sewing them up and marking them for shipment. The addresses are printed on the burlap with a large brush and I am more than thankful that I know how to print. Everything seems to come in handy in war-work.

Paris is as beautiful as ever but one is not allowed to forget that it is war time, which is, of course, as it should be. For instance, two days a week no one is allowed meat; one day no tea or coffee, and one day no sweets. Naturally these rules are being made stricter all the time as the food gets scarcer. There is no hot water anywhere except Saturday and Sunday and, of course, the " war bread " which is a bit like our rye bread and really good.

H6tel Lutetia, Paris, July 14th, 1917.

Mrs. Needham has told me what is proper and has given me a list of restaurants where one can lunch safely with a man ! Just now I am going out a great deal, but in a day or two most of the boys will be gone.

I started in work yesterday and adore it. Our headquarters are marvelously situated on the

Champs Elysees and the packing rooms open on two sides and look out on the gardens surrounding the Cafe des Ambassadeurs. Although I am on my feet continually, the work doesn't seem to tire me and you can imagine my joy at having a regular job which will keep me busy from morning until night.

Paris, July 16th, 1917.

Last night I witnessed my first air raid and it was every bit as thrilling as anticipated. I was awakened out of a sound sleep by a chorus of the most gruesome sirens imaginable, that, combined with the noise of the fire engines rushing through the streets and the blowing of horns made it quite impossible to go back to sleep.

Also at that moment Aunt T came to my door

fully dressed and told me to put on my clothes in case it should prove to be a bad raid and wiser to descend under ground. After the first burst of alarms a deathly stillness fell upon the city, all the lights were switched off and we were left in

the pitch dark. Aunt T and I hung out of

my window and awaited developments. It was a night to dream of, absolutely clear and the sky a-glitter with a myriad of stars. It seemed incredible that out of that vast stretch of beauty should come those death-dealing creatures on wings. However in a few moments we knew that the Boches had crossed our lines and were flying on Paris, for at once a dozen or so French pursuit planes put off and in a moment they could be seen dashing here and there across the heavens like so many fire-flies. These planes carry one light and when they swoop down rapidly, it looks exactly like a falling star. All at once the anti-air-craft guns began and in all my life I have never heard such a racket. I didn't believe there could be anything louder and then suddenly a bomb dropped and the deafening crash completely obliterated for a second all other sounds. They say this morning that two enemy planes were over Paris and five bombs in all were dropped. The list of dead and wounded has not yet been published but it is a long one. The war has suddenly become a reality.

Yesterday, Sunday, I lunched with Aunt T

and Uncle J and later took a walk with Billy

Tailer. He is here for a week before going off to his flying school at Avord. The danger in aviation is very great, much more so than any one in America realizes. The average life of an aviator at the front is six months. Bill has been telling me the most hair-raising tales ! It seems that any boy going into it has practically no chance at all unless he is wounded so severely that he can't go back to the Front. It all makes me perfectly sick. Billy is only twenty-three — the most boyish and appealing person you can Imagine. I simply cannot realize the danger he is going into. Surely it is incredible that such a buoyant personality could be se^criflced.

Last night Uncle J took us over to " The

Gilded Snail " for dinner and we ate the genuine article with a gusto which, on my part at least, was entirely put on. The prices here in Paris are fabulous and even the bare necessities of life seem like an extravagance. However the city itself never has been so fascinating. To a great extent it has lost the froth of other days and the real Paris stands out as never before. For the first time I see why it has been called the heart of this wonderful, indomitable country. But now it seems to represent in its atmosphere not only the heart but the soul of France.

Its streets are no less gay ; most of the women are in black to be sure and yet soldiers from every Allied country in the world are now to be seen everywhere and the vivid colors of their uniforms brighten up the boulevards and gleam among the trees along the Champs Elys^es and in the Bois. Naturally the blesses are everywhere and on every side one sees one-armed and onelegged poilus, leading perhaps some camarade who has lost his sight. O there is much of the pathetic ! — and yet somehow the extraordinary spirit and indomitable will of these people is catching and one holds to any scrap of cheer with the greater tenacity, not knowing just when another bit of it will come one's way. The French have learned economy in the war — even to the' hoarding of sunshine.

The thing that helps me most is the sight of our own soldiers in Paris. One meets tliem everywhere, khaki-clad groups strolling past the marvelous shops in the Eue de la Paix, with a very American nonchalance, or piloting some very petite and chic French mademoiselles through the parks or into one of the many restaurants about the city.

I don't think I should have had the face to come over here before our entry into the war. Those Americans who have been here since the beginning say that the situation grew very strained during the winter and while those numerous notes, were traveling back and forth between Washington and the German Government!

Now, of course, that is all changed. Americans can at least hold up their heads and France with her generous heart forgets how long we were in coming in the joy of at last welcoming us to her shores. Our soldiers are being made much of but with their show of wealth they somewhat bewilder the French people. Money is fairly thrown about by the advance guard of our A. E. F., the boys having no idea of the value of the francs which they carry in huge wads. To the poilu, who earns eight cents a day, the Sammie seems a veritable millionaire.

Our American army headquarters and also the chief headquarters of the American Red Cross are at the Hotel Crillon. The space directly in front of the hotel on the Place de la Concorde is generally swarming with our soldiers. Long rows of khaki-colored military automobiles are drawn up along the curb. These are the first that have appeared in Paris and are looked upon with great interest and entire approval by the French population. In fact, each United States transport that arrives safely is reported with columns of enthusiastic comment in all the Paris papers. They only urge us to " hurry " ; and God grant that we will.

Paris, July 18th, 1917.

For the past few days I have been doing light carpentering at the Alcazar in the Champs Elys6es (our A. F. F. W. Headquarters are in the building which once was the Alcazar d'Ete, a great amusement hall). As most of our men went back on us and some of the cases had to be closed at once for shipment, I've been hammering and sawing until my lily-white hands are rough as a man's and a perfect sight!

The weather has come off very warm and damp and to-day every one has felt more or less like a rag. However our working clothes are most comfortable — little Dutch caps to keep the dust out of our hair and blue aprons made like smocks. I am already so much at home in the Alcazar that I feel as though I had been bom here.

If this is to catch the American mail I must close. I have such heaps to tell you and so little time that it is quite maddening.

Hotel Vernet, Paris, July 22nd, 1917.

The last week has been so fearfully crowded that I haven't been able to accomplish anything outside of my work, also I have taken on another job.

Here at the Alcazar we work until 5 p. m. and after that we are free for the day. I was beginning to wonder how I could make my evenings more useful when this opening came.

Early in the week at the end of a very hot and busy day, word was sent that they needed a few American girls in the new Y. M. C. A. canteen which is being opened for the Army and Navy at 31 Avenue Montaigne. The request was urgent, and, as no one else from the Alcazar was free to go, I told them that I'd come and help out, if only for a few hours.

When I arrived I found that they were very short-handed indeed and would be grateful for a bit of help every day. I am therefore going to the canteen from 5 to 9 P. m. each evening and of course simply love it. In the first place I have the chance to work with our own soldiers, — a thing which I don't get in the A. F. F. W. — and then it fills in the evenings, and I don't feel such a slacker.

The Y, M. C. A. Headquarters are situated in a stunning old building, the court-yard of which has been turned into a sort of tea garden. A small chalet has been built at the extreme end and this serves as kitchen and pantry in one. A huge counter extends across the front and is covered with large plates of sandwiches, cakes, etc. The rest of the court-yard is fenced off by greens and box, leaving a big space for numerous little green tables and chairs. Here the hungry mob congregates, and it is the job of the various girls to take their orders and serve them with the good things that are concocted in the little chaletcanteen. It has become most popular owing to the fact that ice cream, cake and other sweets are now practically impossible to get in Paris. The Y. M. C. A. gets all its supplies straight from America and we have the sugar and flour necessary for making the things which the boys love.

Mrs. Teddy Roosevelt and Mrs. Verley are running the place and in the past two days a girl that I knew at Farmington has turned up which makes it nice for me.

Yesterday, Aunt T had Madame Migot

and her son Roger to luncheon and we had an unusually interesting time. You know her older son, Georges, was so badly wounded during the first year of the war that his back and legs are paralyzed and he will probably never walk again. Instead of lying around and bemoaming his fate he is doing most important head work for the government. The younger son, Roger, is home now en permission and it was generous of his mother to share with us even an hour of his precious eight days at home. His expression shows much that he has been through and his life at the Front must be a veritable Hell. He lives by himself in what is left of a tiny hut just behind the firing line, and goes out day and night, no matter what the danger, to bring in the wounded. His hut is overrun with rats as big as kittens. He told me that the only company he has are three or four wild canaries. He found them as babies in their nest. The mother-bird vanished, so he took them home in his pocket and they have been with him ever since. They sing continually and when he comes back at night, he has only to whistle and they come to him flying, the well-trained little things! Naturally when there is fighting, he is in the trenches all day and then his rats and birds keep house by themselves.

Sometimes at night he takes two helpers, and makes pilgrimages to all the cemeteries near at hand which have been torn up and mutilated by the Germans. He straightens the graves and puts up rude crosses where they have been shot away. In this way he has found the graves of many of his friends, whose families hadn't known where their sons were buried. Madame Migot just didn't take her eyes off him for one minute during luncheon. It must take superhuman strength and courage to let him go back to that ghastly place.

These French women are simply marvelous. When their men are home on permission they put on a bold, cheerful front, and unless one looks at their eyes one would never know the crucifixion that is going on behind that calm, sweet exterior. When I see the pathetic wrecks that limp back from those trenches, I can understand a bit why some of these young girls wear the look of a woman of fifty.

It seems as though I must stretch out a hand and snatch back the ones I love; and yet our country and its honor never seemed half so precious as just now, or half so worth suffering and dying for.

It is all so inspiring and so tiring ! All Americans have the same experience when they first come over and before they get a bit hardened to it all. The emotional strain is terrific. One is keyed to concert pitch all the time — till the mere sight of our khaki-clad boys marching through Paris on their way to camp, brings one to the verge of tears. There is so much color and experience crammed into each day that I can't begin to write of. The whole situation is colossal; it is simply impossible to express it in words. My letters sound childish and scrappy but I only get a chance to write a sentence or two at a time, so you must excuse them.