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From the Library of

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RALPH EMERSON FORBES
1866-1937

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SACHUSETTS BOSTON LIBRARY

HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN FIELD
SERVICE IN FRANCE

I'dtnttdhij Charh'/ Hojlbaii^r

'A SKY MOROSE, TEMPESTUOUS, BLACK,
THE LOW HORIZON MISTY- WAN,
AND SILENT O'ER THE LONG, LONG TRACK
A COLUMN SLOWLY TRUDGING ON."

History of the
American Field Service in France

"Friends of France"
1914-1917

TOLD BY ITS MEMBERS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

Volume II

13W _ 1917

Boston and New York
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

The Riverside Press Cambridge
1920

J :

i AT BOSTON T.Tf?%««T

CONTENTS

Volume II

SECTION TEN i

Hamilton Lillie, 3. William D. Swan, Jr., 11. James W.
Harle, Jr., 16. Henry M. Suckley, 27. Frank J. Tay-
lor, 28. Burnet C. Wohlford, 37. William J. Losh, 40.

SECTION TWELVE 43

Croom W.Walker, Jr., 45. Julien H. Bryan, 53. Ralph N.
Barrett, 59.

SECTION THIRTEEN

Benjamin F. Butler, Jr., 65. John M. Grierson, 75.
Frank X. Laflamme, 81.

SECTION FOURTEEN 83

Joseph H. Eastman, 85. William J. Losh, 90. Franklin
B. Skeele, 94.

SECTION FIFTEEN loi

Clitus Jones, 103. Keith Vosburg, 108. Jerome Preston,
III and 135.

SECTION SIXTEEN 137

Franklin D. W. Glazier, 139. Alpheus E. Shaw, 145.
James H. Lewis, 149. Marshal G. Penfield, 151.

CONTENTS

SECTION SEVENTEEN I53

James W. D. Seymour, 155 and 172. Basil K. Neftel,
187. Carleton F. Wright, 189.

SECTION EIGHTEEN I93

Ernest R. Schoen, 195 and 209. Robert A. Donaldson,
215.

SECTION NINETEEN 219

Paul A. Rie, 221. Charles C. Jatho, 232. Frank G.
Royce, 237. John D. Loughlin, 243. Edward P. Shaw,

245-

SECTION TWENTY-SIX 247

Charles E. Bayly, Jr., 249. Gilbert N. Ross, 254. Joseph
Leveque, 255. Ellis D. Slater, 259.

SECTION TWENTY-SEVEN 261

Howard R. Coan, 263 and 269. Coleman G. Clark, 276.

SECTION TWENTY-EIGHT 277

Frederic R. Colie, 279. John B. Hurlbut, 285. Stanley
Hill, 291. Converse Hill, 293.

SECTION SIXTY-FOUR 295

Richard W. Westwood, 297.

SECTION SIXTY-FIVE 301

Louis G. Caldwell, 303. Raymond W. Ganger, 317. Paul
A. Redmond, 319.

SECTION TWENTY-NINE 321

John T. W^alker, Jr., 323. Richard O. Battles, 329.

SECTION SIXTY-SIX 333

Stanley B. Jones, 335. William G. Rice, Jr., 339. Perley
R. Hamilton, 342. Walter D. Carr, 346.

SECTION SIXTY-SEVEN 349

Kenneth M. Reed, 351. Norman C. Nourse, 357.

CONTENTS

SECTION SIXTY-EIGHT 361

Sidney C. Doolittle, 363 and 366.

SECTION SIXTY-NINE 369

Henry B. Rigby, 371. Robert R. Ball, 374.

SECTION THIRTY 379

Albert E. MacDougall,38i and 386. J. Oliver Beebe, 402.

SECTION SEVENTY 405

Robert A. Donaldson, 407 and 412. Arthur J. Putnam,
410.

SECTION THIRTY-ONE 423

Kent D. Hagler, 425. C. C. Battershell, 432. Gordon F.
L. Rogers, 434.

SECTION SEVENTY-ONE 437

Philip Shepley, 439. Edward A, Weeks, Jr., 442.

SECTION THIRTY -TWO 447

Gurnee H. Barrett, 449. John S. Clapp, 455.

SECTION THIRTY-THREE 457

Robert Rieser, 459. Richard C. Paine, 462.

SECTION SEVENTY-TWO 463

John H. W^oolverton, 465.

FIELD SERVICE HAUNTS AND FRIENDS

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD 469

Raymond W. Gauger, 470. Raymond Wrecks, 471.
Stephen Galatti, 475. Joseph R. Greenwood, 490.
David Darrah, 494. James W. D. Seymour, 496.

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES 499

John R. Fisher, 499, 505. H. Burt Herrick, 511. Robert
A. Donaldson, 513. Stephen Galatti, 516.

vii

CONTENTS

TWO LOYAL FRIENDS OF THE FIELD SERVICE 519
Arthur J. Putnam, 519. Preston Lockwood, 521.

FRENCH OFFICERS ASSOCIATED WITH THE
SERVICE 523

Stephen Galatti.

ILLUSTRATIONS

Volume II

"... A Column slowly trudging on" (in color)
— • Charles Hoffbauer Frontispiece

An Albanian Road near Florina 6

Convoys of Supplies in Albania 6

French Colonials on the Monastir Front 12

Cemetery near Koritza, where Suckley is buried 20

Crossing the Sakulevo River 30

All in the Day's Work! 30

"Where Roads are little more than River-Beds" 40

The Chateau of Esnes "Poste" 48

Camouflage on the Esnes Road 48

POILUS OF To-MoRROW WATCHING AN AiR-BaTTLE 56

A Halt "en Route" 70

Two Types of French Gas-Masks 70

Field Hospital at Clairs-Chenes 86

Section Fourteen leaving "rue Raynouard " 86

Ambulance Panel of the Leland Stanford Section

{in color) 94

The "Morning After" a Collision 106

Esnes near Mort Homme 106

ILLUSTRATIONS

The Eiffel Tower — Neighbor of our Passy Days ii8

The Snows of Champagne 130

Near Hexen- Weg in the Valleys of the ' ' M onts " 1 30

Even this — "Pour la Patrie" 142

The Canal near Montgrignon 142

Home in France 160

The Winter Trail to the Trenches 176

"BOYAUX" TO THE FORTS OF VeRDUN I76

The Flags of France i88
" Duck and dodge and twist in the darkness " (in color)

— Charles Hoffbauer 198

Above Verdun 212

The Vacherauville "Poste" 212

At A " PosTE " AT the very Front 224

Loading the Ambulance 236

ChATTANCOURT STATION' — THE SeCOND-LiNE TrENCHES 252

When Labor slackens 252

Dressing-Station before Mourmelon 266

The Ferme de Moscou "Poste de Secours" 266

Loading a "Couche" at Constantine 280

Gas on the Road! 280

La Croix de Guerre Francaise {in color) 290

The Final Driving Test at May 304

View of the Farm at May-en-Multien 304

The End of an Ambulance 316

La Terre Promise 326

General Niessel at the Grave of Hamilton and

Gailey 342

A Borrowed French Ambulance of Section Sixty-Six 354

Vassogne after a Night of Shelling 354
"Under what troubled skies your steps have led

you" {in color) — Charles Hoffbauer 366

Ambulance at a Dressing-Station near Verdun 376

ILLUSTRATIONS

Evacuating a Hospital 388

Transferring the Wounded to a Train 388

The Col de Bussang 400

Fort M almaison ! 410

Arrival of a "Couche" on a "Brouette" 410

Ambulance "Poste" at Cappy {in color) — Victor White 420

"POSTE DE SeCOURS" AT MoNTAUVILLE 432

When Cleanliness is a Myth 442

Where Army-Blue turns to Khaki 442

The Garden of "rue Raynouard" in Winter 454
Statuette in Tribute to Section Nine and the

Service 460
Head-Table at the Farewell Dinner to Section

Fourteen 480

On the Terrace of "21 " 4^0

Mr. Andrew addressing newly arrived Volunteers 490

One of the Earliest Officers' Schools at Meaux 500

The Training-Camp at May-en-Multien 510

La Comtesse de la Villestreux 520

Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt 522

Lieutenants Rodocanachi and de Kersauson 526

Lieutenants d'Halloy and de Rode 530

Lieutenant de Turckheim and Capitaine Genin 534

HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN FIELD
SERVICE IN FRANCE

Section Ten

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Hamilton Lillie
II. William Dennison Swan, Jr

III. James W. Harle, Jr.

IV. Henry M. Suckley
V. Frank J. Taylor

VI. Burnet C. Wohlford
VII. William J. Losh

SUMMARY

Section Ten began and ended its history in the Balkans. It
was sent to the Balkan front on December 26, 1916, arriving
in Salonica January 8, 1917. On February 12 its cars and equip-
ment were assembled, and it left in convoy for the Albanian
front, taking quarters in the town of Koritza, and working
pastes at Gorica and Swezda. The first group of men to serve in
the Section were relieved at the end of their six months, and
left Koritza on July 4, when they heard that the new men had
landed at Salonica. The new men of the Section, a Stanford
University unit, found the cars at Koritza, and took over the
w^ork immediately. On September 5, 1917, it followed the
French-Albanian offensive from Lake Malik to Lake Ochrida,
and moved the pastes on over the mountains to Pogredec and
Lesnicha. When the Government finally took over the work of
the American Field Service, and declined to maintain these
sanitary sections against nations with which the United States
was not yet officially at war, the cars, along with those of
Section Three, were given to the French Government, and the
men disbanded and returned to France.

Section Ten

Soaring France!
Now is humanity on trial in thee:
Now may'st thou gather humankind in fee:
Now prove that Reason is a quenchless scroll;
Make of calamity thine aureole,
And, bleeding, lead us through the troubles of the sea.

George Meredith

Departure for Marseilles

Written on the train, December 27, 19 16

Section Ten had its farewell dinner last evening and we
then scrambled from the dining-room at 2 1 rue Raynouard
into autos which took us to the Lyons Station, whence
our train left about 10.50 p.m. for Marseilles.

We got through the long night somehow, sleeping on the
floor or any place we could find. This morning we stopped
at a little town on a canal and got some very poor coffee
and a hunk of bread apiece. Some of us then went into an
oyster and snail establishment, being attracted by some
smiling maidens in the windows. As a result, Robbie and
I barely managed to get on one of the freight cars as the
train pulled out, while our French Lieutenant and a
number of the others have been left behind.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

December 28
Ten p.m. and we are still in this damned old train. The
fellows who were left behind at Laroche got on an express
train which passed us and when we reached Dijon there
they were in the station, with wide grins on their faces.
This morning's ride was perfectly delightful, for we are
in the south of France, which is full of rocky hills, old,
crumbling, ivy-covered towers, and gardens with palms
growing in them. The sunshine makes perfect weather.
Most of us rode on the freight boxes, where are our cars,
in order to get a good view of everything.

December 29
We arrived in Marseilles after a journey of fifty-four
hours in the train. I never saw respectable fellows as
dirty as we. Bright sunshine and a throng of Orientals,
English, Russians, and soldiers of all nations make the
city most interesting.

On Shipboard in the Mediterranean

January 3, 19 17

Got on board the Lotus, on which we sail for Salonica.
Our rooms are down in the steerage, where "niggers"
sprawl all over the passage, and there is no water for
washing and no sanitary arrangements. A company of
two hundred and fifty Russians is on board. Mules being
hauled up with derricks. Our boat sailed at three o'clock,
passing a steamer with bows all stove in. A pretty choppy
sea outside the harbor made men all over the ship sick
and the mules "galloped in neutral" at every jounce. It
was too dirty below, so we slept on the floor of the second-
class smoking-room.

January 5
We were off the islands all day yesterday, and the dark,
grimdooking mountains with houses dotted over them
made wonderful scenery. In the afternoon we met two
small French cruisers which hung around till dark. A

SECTION TEN

French torpedo-boat destroyer convoyed us all night.
We slept on deck, using life-belts as pillows. This morning
is fine. We have been about a mile off the coast of Tunis
all morning. Supposed to be going to Malta next for coal.

Life in Salonica

January 9
We got into Salonica Harbor late last night. Since there
were no buildings for us we had to pitch a camp of three
bell tents which are very crowded. We eat in a long, low,
wooden shed with the poilus and ''niggers." It is rough
food, but might be worse. And our table manners have
become deplorable. "Grab what you can and eat it
quickly before some one gets it away from you," seems
to be the rule. Never saw anything so picturesque or so
dirty as this extraordinary town with its mosques, mina-
rets, and Oriental types. There are soldiers of all Allied
nations, and natives with queer uniforms, baggy trousers,
and tasselled shoes. W^e had a great view from the old
Venetian wall this morning. We saw nothing at first but
the tips of the Turkish minarets through the mist. Later
the sun conquered the fog and we saw the whole city and
harbor stretched out before us.

January 14
To-day was the Greek Christmas and a big fete day. All
the stores were closed ; the peasants did strange dances in
the streets ; and everywhere we saw queer-looking musical
boxes carried through the towns on the backs of old
bearded men, while young striplings walked behind turn-
ing the crank.

January 15
Several queer things happened this morning. While we
were still in bed, we heard shots in the distance, and ]Mac ^

1 Gordon Kenneth MacKenzie, of Boston, Massachusetts: joined the
Field Service in November, 1916; served with Section Ten in the Balkans
and Section Two in France; enlisted in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service,
September, 191 7; died of wounds received in action, June 14, 191 8.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

happened to remark that nothing could get him out of
bed but the actual bombardment of the tent. A few mo-
ments later, there was a little "smack" and a long rifle
bullet ripped through Bruns's blankets and buried its
nose in the ground. It only missed his leg by an inch. A
Frenchman was hit in the head by another bullet and
stunned. They were Greek bullets, but the mystery is
not yet solved.

Batch and I went up to the old Turkish prison this
morning, a place very dirty and interesting. Outside it
was a Greek battery, and just as we got under it they
fired about twenty salutes for Venizelos, who is in town.
Afterwards, while we were in a cafe, a Greek priest came
in, walked up behind the bar-boys, and splashed them
with a bunch of flowers which he dipped in water carried
by his little acolyte. When he had made three dabs on
their faces, they gave him money, and he then left. They
have queer habits in these regions !

Over the Mountains to Albania

Monday, February I2

V^E left camp in our ambulances this morning for Albania,
over the Greek mountains, leaving on our right bare,
brown-green hills and encampments, military bridges,
very few trees, earthworks and barbed-wire entangle-
ments, marshes and a desert, with sand all around. After
sundry troubles, especially with the kitchen car which
we could never think of leaving behind, we skirted under
a high mountain, through some woods, and made camp

for the night.

February 13

We stopped in Vodena, a quaint old town, for lunch.

Here by Kimono Lake, where we longed to shoot wild

ducks, we heard guns for the first time. We camped for

the night on a freezingly cold plateau.

February 14

It is colder than ever and we're on the worst road yet.
The morning was spent pushing. We had no food till we

A HALT ON AN ALBANIAN ROAD NEAR FLORINA

^■I'-^Ml

CONVOYS OF SUPPLIES FOR THE FRENCH TROOPS IN ALBANIA

SECTION TEN

got to Ostrovo by a beautiful lake, the scene of a battle,
with shell-holes all around. Farther on was another awful
hill, on which we camped cold and tired after pushing each
other's ambulances most of the way.

February i6
Two cars went into a ditch near Banitza, a very curious
town. Bruns turned two somersaults into a ditch twenty
feet deep. In the afternoon I carried my first Serb soldier.
We are now on a fine road nearing big auto camps on the
plains ahead. There is snow on the mountains as usual.
By supper-time we arrived at Fiorina, where we got pota-
toes, meat, and beans in an old dirty tavern.

Sunday, February i8
We left Fiorina about 9 a.m. and faced the biggest climb
yet, a perfectly terrific one, like the Grand Cafion of the
Colorado. My car ran wonderfully and I was only pushed
twice. It is lovely weather, but the road is covered with
deep mud and ruts. Mules are there by thousands. Boche
prisoners are working on roads. It was difficult driving
between the mules and carts and the precipice. Later we
splashed through swollen streams, and in one I bent the
crank-case on a huge rock. Another car came up soon and
we had lunch of singe and a little bread. After lunch all
went on but Fitz and me. I was finally towed by a Pack-
ard six kilometres to camping ground. Eventually, I had
to run the car as she was, despite the clanking noise.

Work on the Albanian Front

March 10

I WAS on duty at Gorica, near Lake Presba. I slept in a
barn on dirty straw. This is a queer little village of wicker
and mud huts. The women are hard at work carrying
wood, while the men stand around doing nothing. The
total excitement of the inhabitants is picking lice off each
other in doorways.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

March il

Awakened by guns, I knew the attack had begun at last.
Our cars went to a poste two kilometres over the Serbian
boundary and got the wounded who came down the
mountains slung on mules. They are horribly messed up,
some of them.

March 20

Days of hard work, carrying wounded over awful roads,
and on to Koritza. I shall never forget scenes in the hos-
pital tfiere, where wounded were dumped down on straw
in fearful pain, many of them. The camp at Zemlak was
bombed, and Henry Suckley, our Chef, was injured so
badly that he died in a few hours. His funeral was held
to-day at Koritza, where he was buried in the little
Christian cemetery. Sous-Chef Kimberly Stuart will be
in charge of the unit.

April 15
Our Headquarters are moved to Koritza, with pastes at
Swezda and Gorica. At Zemlak we live in a Turkish house.
There is a knot-hole in the door between our room and
that of the Turks, and it is usually occupied by an eye —
either belonging to us or to one of the natives. So neither
of us feels sure of much privacy. But the little daughter,
Litfi, comes in every day with a gift of an omelette, or
some native dish ; and they are very attentive. There is
an older daughter, too, who is supposed never to be seen
by any man outside her family; but we sometimes see her
through the knot-hole. At Gorica we live near the lake,
eating with some sous-oficiers and sleeping in our cars.
The scenery is beautiful, and there are bears and wolves
in the forests near by.

Sunday, May 20
On returning from a trip to Zelova, I met a native bridal
procession coming out of Koritza. In front were donkeys
laden with brilliantly painted wooden trunks and boxes,

SECTION TEN

and behind, on an ass, which her husband led, was the
bride in a white veil. People thronged the streets every-
where to witness the ceremony. The couple cannot live
together for two days, according to the custom. Marriage
always takes place on a Sunday, and the festivities last a
whole week. On the Monday the relatives, in a regular
procession with music, go out to see the bride.

Monday, May 21
I TOOK a walk with the Albanian from Bridgeport, and
met a deputation of old women on their way out to visit
the bride of yesterday. They all carried black umbrellas
and were accompanied by a girl beating on a drum.

A Native Funeral

June 3
In the afternoon I went with Mac to police headquarters
to see the results of the new order disarming all Albanian
and Turkish civilians. They poured in all day with every
sort of weapon, from modern Turkish rifles to bent and
battered muzzle-loaders, thick w4th rust. We examined
the pile of junk, and I brought away as souvenirs the
sights of a Turkish rifle and a small dagger.

Afterwards a native funeral came along the street and
we followed. Singing a mournful song, the tall-hatted
priests led the way through the cemetery to the old
church where there was an open casket in the middle of
the floor, and we went in. All, including ourselves, held
candles. After a long chant the coflin was taken out to
the yard, but not until all the relatives had kissed the
corpse. Hired mourners kissed it again and again by the
graveside, weeping and wailing frantically all the while.
The body was that of a woman not over thirty, but very
ghastly to look at. After the final kissing, a cross was put
on the mouth, the body was covered with cotton cloth —
all except the nose — and the coffin was then lowered
into a shallow grave, about three feet deep. The priest
threw in olive oil, and the spectators each tossed in a

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

little earth. Finally a lid was put on the coffin and the
grave filled up. Dry bread was given out at the gate of
the church-yard. Every one seemed very hungry and
many fought for it.

June 12
I GOT some Albanian kids to wash my car in exchange for
some chewing-gum. We saw the Albanian Army march-
ing downtown to-day. Its exploits are amusing. During
one battle the only man killed was an Albanian captain
who was quarrelling with another captain about who
should ride the one horse. The Albanian Army came home
for Easter, leaving the positions to the Boches, and the
Senegalese " niggers " had to go out to save the town.

June 13
I WAS on call and made a trip to Kula Nora for three men
suspected of typhus. In the afternoon I had another call
to get a blesse from Voskop, a little town at the foot of the
mountains toward Muskopole. None of our ambulances
had been there before. The blesse turned out to be a
Roumanian civilian who had been set upon by komitadji,
or bandits, with knives, robbed of his money, and
wounded ten times in the neck.

July I
I MADE a trip to Zelova. If it's my last trip in good old
348, as it should be, I 'm glad it was a pleasant one. The
road is quite good now, except the "Biklista Bumps," I
met thousands of ponies, asses, and goats, and three tor-
toises on the road.

Hamilton Lillie ^

^ Of Boston, Massachusetts; Cambridge University, England, and Har-
vard, '18; served in Sections Four and Ten from November, 1916, to
November, 191 7; subsequently became a Lieutenant in the U.S.A. Avia-
tion Service. The above extracts are from his diary.

Salonica and Roads to Albania

Salonica, January 21
Went downtown to a mosque to see a dervish ceremony,
which consisted of a group of about sixteen men, all
kneeling in a circle and chanting a verse which they re-
peated about a hundred times; then shifting to some
other verse for another hundred, while swaying their
bodies from side to side. Later, they chanted to a kind of
tom-tom, or drum, going faster and faster. They were
singing dervishes. We were disappointed, as we had
hoped to see the whirling, dancing variety.

February 15
Got up quite late. We are on the side of the road in a kind
of a ravine between two hills. On the right is a long, high
ridge rising below us and coming to a summit opposite,
and then rolling on beyond. It is a stony, gray, slaty hill,
covered with a brown scrub. Halfway between us and it
is a tiny little Serbian graveyard of about twenty wooden
crosses, and right beside us is a single lonely grave of a
man killed on this very spot by shell. All this country has
been fought over many times. The big snow mountains
in the distance, and the large, queer-shaped lake on the
other side of us, make a very beautiful region, difi[erent
from any I have ever seen. Every now and again we hear
the rumble of heavy guns.

February 16
Very cold on the tops of the mountains, but a wonderful
view of the country. Fiorina is just visible in the distance,
tucked against the snow-capped mountains about twenty
miles across a broad, level valley. It is a funny little town,
like the worst parts of Salonica. At night it is as dark as
pitch, all the windows and doors bein^ boarded up.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Trouble with Aeroplanes

Zemlak, February 24
A FINE, clear day in this little village and every one
expected some aeroplanes to fly over. Suckley made us
move the cars all round so that one bomb would not blow
them all up at once. A couple of planes did fly over, but
no bombs were dropped. One Boche, however, turned his
machine gun on some troops down the road, and one
Frenchman got excited and fell off his horse; he was the
only casualty. From camp it sounded like quite a little
battle.

March 9

I LEFT camp for Soulim, where two of us are to be stationed
for a few days. The road is an old Roman one, and a won-
derful piece of engineering. It winds back and forth, zig-
zagging. At the top, you suddenly get a fine view of
Lake Presba, whose water is strikingly green and brown,
with white herons on its surface making a curious con-
trast.

March 10
Left Soulim about 12.30, as everything was moving to
Gorica. We made Gorica with some difficulty as the road
is terrible. There we got two malades for Zemlak. We had
quite a bit of trouble in getting over the pass, as it is
worse going that way. We got stuck about six times,
but finally arrived at Zemlak at 6 and had supper, and
then started back for Gorica at 9.30. The moon was
quite bright, and it was a marvellous night, the snow-
capped mountains standing out like purest crystal while
the cloud-shadows on them were most curious. One place
on the road, where it runs on the side of the hill with the
lake about two hundred feet directly below, is especially
beautiful. We got to Gorica at 12 p.m., and went right to
bed in the car. The attack starts to-morrow, and about
the whole Section will be up in the morning.

FRENCH COLONIAL, TROOPS IN THE MOUNTAINS OF THE
MONASTIR FRONT

SECTION TEN

Shelling by the Austrians

March ii
Got up about 7. About ten of our cars were sent up to
the front. We stopped when in sight of the enemy. One
car went on beyond and was shelled; so we all had to
stay quite far back. The "75's" and the "220's" started
at 7 and kept at it all day long. The advance moved but
slowly, as the Austrians had lots of ammunition. About
noon, the wounded began coming up the road on mule-
back.

March 13

Woke up at 4, and took two couches to Gorica, returning
about 6. Loafed around until 10, when three of us went
down the road to watch a "120" firing. We were about
one hundred yards away when suddenly the Austrians
opened up on it. Three or four shells fell quite near it,
when, all of a sudden, a shell came in and lit within a
yard of the gun and in the midst of the ammunition;
there was a crash and a flash, and in the light we could
see three figures thrashing around. We went back, got a
car, and carried the men who were wounded across the
field to a hastily constructed dressing-station. One man
was dying — his head terribly burnt, a hole in his neck, a
broken leg and arm. The other two were not so badly off.
About one o'clock, I took three assis to the hospital,
and then got a little sleep. About 5.30 I left for Koritza
with three assis; had no lights and the roads were very
bad. To bed at Zemlak at midnight. It rained all night.
Raining and drizzling when I woke up; started work on
my car about 7. Lunch at Zemlak and left for Gorica
at 12.30. Roads worst I have ever seen; they were like a
boulevard before compared with what they now are.

Long Hard Runs

March 16
Still raining when I got up. Left for Zemlak with three
assis. Roads pretty bad, but some of the worst places had

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been fixed. Car ran poorly at first, and I had to change
spark-plugs twice. At Zemlak we had to go on to Biklista;
the road was terrible — worse than the mountains. Got
stuck in a stream. Had a nice lunch at Biklista and
started back. Got stuck in same stream with the car
tilted so that the gas would n't run to the carburetor.
After about an hour twenty-five Senegalese came along
and pushed me out. Stayed at Zemlak for the night to
bring up the ravitaillement. Got up at 6.30 and tried to
start my car. The water in the gas-tank was at the bottom
and had frozen. Had a terrible time; but finally got it
started. Snowing all the time, and the road was difticult.
Got to Gorica about noon and carried five blesses to
Gorica let-has. Up to the poste about 3.30, and made one
trip with five assis. From then on until about 3 A.M. I
made five trips. On one trip a man died on the stretcher
beside the car, and another one died about ten minutes
after I got to the hospital.

March 18
Woke up about 9 and took one couche and three assis to
Gorica. Came back for lunch and filled tank. An avion
flew over, and when it was directly over my head, I saw
him drop three bombs, which fell in an orchard, about
two hundred yards from the road. Back to the poste and
returned to the hospital with a cotiche and three assis.
Worked on my car awhile and am now at the poste w^ait-
ing my turn to go up. Went up with two cotiches and re-
turned. Back again with two more and got something to
eat. Heard that Suckley, Dufour, Michel, and Senel were
all hit by avion bombs.

The Death of Suckley

March 19
Got up early this morning and went to the hospital with
one couche and three assis. We heard the terrible news
that Henry Suckley was dying. The aviator flew down
the road from Zemlak and dropped four bombs. Henry

SECTION TEN

fearlessly came to the door of the tent when the aero-
plane was heard, and one of the bombs fell about fifteen
yards from him, to the front and a little to the right. He
was struck in the groin. Though terribly hurt, he was
never unconscious, and was rushed to Koritza in an
ambulance, where he stayed until he died the next morn-
ing. Several of the fellows were at Koritza all the time,
and saw him continually during the day and night. He
was conscious all the time, smoking and chatting cheer-
fully with the men. He kept asking why there were so
many of the fellows bothering about him when they
should all be up at the front doing their work. He died
quietly the next morning, about nine o'clock, and was
buried that afternoon with military honors. All of us
at the front were unable to go to the funeral, for the
work had to be carried on just the same as if he were
alive, which was what he would have wished.

William Dennison Swan, Jr.^

^ Of Cambridge, Massachusetts; Harvard, '17; in the American Field
Service from November, 19 16, to August, 1917; subsequently became a
Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Field Artillery.

Ill

Leaving Salonica

Salonica, Jamiary 2i
Very cold. Snow on surrounding hills. We have con-
structed stoves from gasoline cans. MacKenzie made an
excellent one from a galvanized iron can. Have thrown
the earth up around the bottom of the tent to keep the
cold out and am comfortable now so long as the wood
lasts. Stovepipes are protruding from all the tents and
columns of black smoke belch forth. The orchestra, con-
sisting of two mandolins, two guitars, flute, and violin,
got together after supper and we had some lively music.

January 25
Great changes in temperature here. Boys went swimming
in the bay again. The Packard camion section, that has
been sharing the vacant lot with us, left this morning. A
crowd of women had gathered waiting the moment w^hen
they could pounce upon the trash left there. It was a
wild scramble and tussle for everything, even for bits of
broken boxes. Four husky women would fight for an
empty box, and the possession of an old home-made
stovepipe was of more importance than a head of hair.
Soon we saw that first possession meant nothing to the
"might is right" "super- women." Here was the war all
over again. The strong were snatching from the weak.
They were amazed and indignant that we should do aught
but look on and applaud their strength of arms. We
interfered because we were for fair play — namely, first
come, first served. Any good American would do the
same. The old lady next door had better keep her three

fat ducks at home.

February I

Wooden shoes have been issued to us. The old lady next

door wants to know what has become of a duck. Only

two quacking about this morning.

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February 12
Up at four o'clock; packed tents and burnt all rubbish.
The women will be surprised and disappointed when
they see we have gone and left no trash behind.

February 14

To-night the ambulances are roosting here on the top of
a steep hill, and this Is how we got up this last big hill.
When we saw it we knew we could not make the grade,
so we stopped well back in order to make a run for It.
But before making the attempt, we all walked up looking
the road over and figuring out how we might best make it.
Then we stationed ourselves at the places where we knew
a push would be necessary, and signalled for a car to
come on. A hundred yards from the top, it was necessary
to go into first speed, which was good for about twenty
yards and the rest of the distance it was push for all
hands.

It is now 9.30 and I am writing in my car. The wind
is howling outside and it is very cold. My ambulance is
well made and closes up snugly, so with a lantern burning
it is quite comfortable. Ellingston Is on guard and one
would know it Is way below freezing by the sound of his
feet upon the frozen ground.

A Visit from Section Three

February 17
LovERiNG Hill, Powell Fenton, and Bluethenthal came
over from Monastir to see us. After lunch, Henry decided
to send five ambulances on over into Albania and I w^as
one of those chosen. We were told to travel light; so we
carried only extra gasoline and personal effects. We
started at 2 p.m. and reached the top of the pass at 1 1 p.m.
Nine hours to go eleven miles! But the mud was ankle-
deep, and near the top the deep ruts were frozen. We had
to use the same tactics of pushing in relay. At one steep
place several natives passed us and we made motions for
assistance, when we received from one of them this reply,

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in perfect English : "Christ a'mighty, I have already done
a day's work." We laughed, passed around cigarettes and
shook hands with our interpreter's friends. He had
worked in Gloversville, New York. Before going to sleep
I made tea and we opened sardines and the army rum
bottle and talked of what Albania might look like.

February i8
After lunch we stopped at the small village of Zemlak
which is south of Lake Presba and lies to the north of and
at the foot of a large hutte. If we had searched all over
Albania we could not have chosen a worse place to spend
the next six weeks. Clouds continually hover about this
mountain and we are seldom in sunshine, although we
can look across at other villages basking in the sun and
their white minarets beckoning to us.

February 19
Most of the other boys arrived to-day. We pitched one
tent over an old Turkish burial-ground. The headstones
have disappeared, but the turf is good. Sunken places
show where the graves are. I carried two wounded French-
men from Biklista to Bresnica.

March I
Bob Clark waked me up about four o'clock with, "Jim,
the big tent must have fallen down ; I hear them driving
tent pegs." At seven we found to our great surprise four
inches of snow. All this snow upon the tent had drawn
the pegs and the boys had to get up and reset it. By noon
there were seven inches of snow.

An Attack

March {I think it is the 24th)
These last two weeks have been hard, indeed, and it
seems like a dream. During the ten days of the attack I
made nine trips to Koritza and back, 74 miles, and ten
trips to the poste, an easy 750 miles, over roads beyond

SECTION TEN

description. Selden Senter made eleven trips over the
mountain in those ten days. There were stretches of road
through the woods that had been made by cutting out the
brush and levelHng the ground. Softened by the rains,
the ammunition wagons, artillery, and mule-carts had
cut in, making deep mud-holes; and into these the na-
tives had thrown stones. There were other stretches in
low places where the mud was knee-deep. Many times I
had to carry stones and reconstruct a surface under my
wheels.

We start over the mountain with our blesses about 7 in
the morning and get back during the night — sometimes
as late as 2 a.m. My greatest fear Is that I may fall asleep
at my wheel and crash down one of the many cliffs by
the roadside. At one place the road skirts the lake, high
above the water. We are often so fatigued with the strain
and monotony of this unceasing grind that we fall asleep
at the wheel, and run ofT the road. Recently, Gignoux
ran over a high wall and his car turned upside down.
Before I run past a dangerous stretch of road I stop my
car, bathe my face in cold water, get down, and run up
and down the road several times to convince myself that
I am well awake. This fatigue of constant driving acts
like a narcotic upon one. The mind becomes dull, and,
though fully aware that I am going off the road, I am
indifferent as to what follows. In this state of mind
shadows along the road assume queer shapes and one is
likely to see animals, men, and wagons that really do
not exist.

SUCKLEY KILLED

March (7 have lost track of days)
We are all broken up over Henry Suckley's death. He
was one of the finest ifellows I ever saw. Many of us were
unable to see him before he died, or to attend his funeral.
He was buried with full military honors and his remains
lie in the Christian cemetery at Koritza, among many
whom he came out to serve. I regret that he did not live

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to see his efforts rewarded by the knowledge that we did
the work that we came out to do. He was in constant fear
that our cars could not stand the terrific strain of these
awful roads, and yet during the attack we handled the
wounded as fast as they were able to be moved and the
Medecin Chef said it was doing almost the impossible. ■
Here are some details concerning Suckley's death. We
had left our large tent (the one we ate in and the one we
slept in), together with our kitchen car, and various im-
pedimenta, back at the village of Zemlak, situated at the
edge of a broad plain, and had come up here to the front
with only our ambulances, bed-rolls, a few personal
effects, and some pots and pans to cook with, intending
to work from here. Zemlak is fully thirty miles back of
the lines and Henry was down there looking after sundry
details. It was about noon and he and Robert Wood, of
Easthampton, Long Island, Joe Richardson, of Boston,
the cook, his Albanian helper, and our Lieutenant's
chauffeur, were standing about the camp watching the
enemy aeroplanes fly overhead. At this moment, four
bombs struck near by, the second one not more than
twenty-five feet from the kitchen car, killing the Albanian
instantly, wounding Henry mortally, and the cook and
chauffeur in their legs. Joe Richardson was in the eating-
tent and, on hearing the first bomb explode, threw him-
self on the ground, which probably saved his life. If Henry
had done this, too, as he often urged us to do, he prob-
ably would have been saved. The shells exploded in rapid
succession; then Joe got up and went to the door of the
tent where Henry was lying, who said, "I am hit," or
words to that effect. Thereupon Joe opened Henry's
coat and saw at once that it was a very severe wound ;
so they put him on a stretcher and Robert Wood carried
him to the best surgeon here. He was perfectly conscious
and cool until that night. He died at eight o'clock the
next morning and was buried by a Protestant clergyman
with full military honors. Many of the high officials spoke,
paying just tribute to his devotion to the work and love

SECTION TEN

for France. Our French officer, Lieutenant Constant, put
our feelings into words with moving simpHcity and grace,
saying :

Avant de donner sa vie au service de la France, Henry
Suckley lui avait consacre ses forces morales, intellectuelles
et physiques. Depuis deux ans aux armees frangaises ou il
avait merite la Croix de Guerre, il joignait aux plus hautes
qualites du chef les humbles patiences du soldat. II estimait
que le meilleur moyen pour lui d'obtenir de ses hommes
I'ob^issance passive, c'etait, en tout, de leur montrer I'exemple
et il reussait admirablement. Je me souviens qu'un soir, apres
une tres longue et tres dure etape, par un temps de vent et
de neige, pensant que la garde de la nuit serait tres penible
aux hommes fatigues, il me demanda, lui le chef, a prendre la
premiere faction. Comment apres cela, les hommes auraient-ils
pu se plaindre? II vivait avec eux, au milieu d'eux et travaillait
de ses mains avec eux tout en les commandant. C'est le meil-
leur de nous tous qui est tomb6.

Sa mort surtout fut heroique. D^s qu'il fut atteint il de-
manda qu'on s'occupat avant lui-meme des autres blesses,
alors qu'il etait de beaucoup le plus durement touche. Mais
il ne pensait pas, il n'a jamais pense, a lui; une cigarette a la
bouche, comme on I'emportait k I'hopital, il encourageait
ses camarades. II n'a pense qu'a son service et a ses hommes
et une de ses rares paroles fut pour me demander si tout allait
bien la-bas.

Nous lui devons toute notre reconnaissance; il est mort
pour la France en montrant sur cette terre lointaine quelle est
la hauteur et la noblesse d'un coeur americain.

Life and Customs in Albania

March 27
To-day I took a much-needed hot bath and changed my
underwear for the first time since the beginning of the
attack. So you see how pressed for time we have been.
When we were not working en route, we were giving our
cars much-needed attention, such as oiling, greasing,
tightening up loose nuts, etc.

April I
There is so much to write of in this strange land and we
have been so busy the last month that I am sure I have

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overlooked many things of interest. For instance, we
have moved to Koritza, quite a large place for this coun-
try, having about 18,000 inhabitants. It is very clean
and orderly. We could not be in a healthier place, I am
sure. We are at the foot of a line of mountains with a
broad plain on the other three sides ; so we get plenty of
fresh air and water, the latter being from streams high
up the mountain-sides. Snow still covers the mountain-
tops, but it will not last long with such weather as we
have had yesterday and to-day, with every indication of
continuing. It is really warm in the sun and very bright —
distinctly an Arizona day. The sky is a wonderful blue,
and the mountains vary in color from a light blue under
the snow to all shades of purple in the foreground ; and
the colors keep changing throughout the day.

We are quartered on the second floor of a very
"spooky" house. The absence of glass in the windows
does not worry us at all, for we expect the dry season is
at hand. Curtains are not necessary, for the female popu-
lation turns away at the sight of a man. This shunning of
men does not speak well for those who have been here
before us. Or, perhaps it is because they do not like our
looks. As for the French, they are always gallant with
women.

A few of the people here are attired in the European
dress, but the majority wear native costumes. The men
work a bit, follow a plough drawn by oxen, do a little
spading and picking and drive a small bunch of pack-
animals, donkeys or Albanian ponies, and very small
horses. The women work much harder than the men.
Many of the female peasants go barefooted the year
round, are very hardy, and age very quickly. Great num-
bers of them work on the roads, picking up stones from
the fields and hills near by and carrying them to the roads
to break. They all seem more like animals than human
beings, as they never smile and look so much alike. The
only life and merriment is confined to the small boys
who do about what American kids do. They are at the

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stage where they throw their hats and caps In front of
our cars just as boys used to do at home.

Medical Aid for the Natives

April 10
On the way back from Zelova, I was stopped by several
peasant women, who had a small girl to be taken to the
doctor. Her leg was terribly swollen from the knee down,
and she was In great pain. I placed the girl In my ambu-
lance, but her old mother refused to get In, too, and ran
alongside for some distance. Finally I stopped and she
got in, for she preferred the dangers of an automobile to
being separated from her daughter. At BIkllsta I hurried
to the office of the French doctor, a charming man, who
looked at the swelling and asked me what the old women
had to say. The situation seemed hopeless, as I could not
speak Bulgarian. Something had to be done, as the doctor
wanted to know how long the girl had been ill and the
cause of the trouble. It occurred to me that some one in
BIkllsta might speak English; so I ran out In the Street
and called out: "Is there any one here who knows Eng-
lish?" Thereupon a long, lanky Albanian, among the
crowd who came to see what the American wanted, came
up and said he spoke a little English. So the doctor, who
knew only French, conversed with a woman who only
spoke Bulgarian, by this method: the doctor put his
questions in French, I asked the same question In Eng-
lish, the Albanian translated it into Greek, and the little
girl, who spoke Greek as well as Bulgarian, would com-
municate it to her mother; and then back would come the
reply in the same manner. In the end, the doctor found
out what he wanted so that he could diagnose the case.
I got an Albanian to procure a room for her as she will
be there at least ten days. When the child came from
under the Influence of chloroform, she kissed my hand.
This and the look she gave me amply repaid me for my
trouble.

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Easter Sunday
The Medecin Chef gave us a formal dinner in honor of
our entrance into the war. He is a charming man and
desired to express his deHght. We heard the news officially
Saturday morning.

April 12
Made another trip yesterday, and en route took our little
girl to the surgeon to have her wound dressed. This is
necessary, for the bone is exposed, a fearful-looking place.
The other fellows are all interested in the case and some
of us stop each day to see her. We shall try to bring her
here where we can see that she gets proper attention.

Capturing Two German Aviators

Gorica, April 22
I AM up here doing my four days poste duty. This morning
I had two German aviators land at my feet — a Lieuten-
ant and a machine-gunner. America has been in the war
only a few days ; so I think I must be the first American
to capture a Boche. I was alone in a large field near the
lake when I saw the plane coming, descending all the
while. Presently I heard the motor running badly; so I
knew he was being compelled to land. He was making
straight for this open space; so I got behind a small
stump for protection. On he came, striking the ground
not a hundred feet away from me.

The ground was rough, and his wheels getting into a
ditch threw the plane forward, the propeller striking the
earth and causing the plane to turn completely over on
its back, throwing out the two aviators as if they were
giant frogs. I walked toward the overturned plane, meet-
ing the pilot coming toward me ; whereupon I announced
that they were my prisoners. He replied in better French
than mine that he was well aware of the fact, his motor
forcing it upon them. I took his picture with his flying-
togs on, just as he landed. All the while the other German
was occupied about the plane, and presently I saw him

SECTION TEN

take a clumsy pistol and fire it, which was followed by a
flare of smoke. Then I realized that he wished to burn
the machine. But in this he did not succeed, and the
plane was left in perfect condition, save for a broken pro-
peller and a damaged strut or two. The pilot told me he
had dropped his last two bombs in the lake when he
found that he would have to land. These he, no doubt,
was saving to drop on us, as was his custom each day.
Presently I could hear the French soldiers coming on the
run, and I expected to see them carry out their oft-re-
peated threats as to what they would do if ever a German
machine came down there; but nothing of the kind hap-
pened, for they seemed interested to hear what we were
talking about. This was probably the man who had killed
Henry and two others. In the end, they were marched off
to Headquarters.

A Visit to the Trenches

May 20
We are getting terribly bored with no work to do — a
fever patient every few days being the extent of our labor.
Wakened as usual by the hum of "Fritz's" motor. He
dropped four bombs, but did no damage. Bob Lester,
Bob Clark, and I decided we would visit the front-line
trenches up on the mountain ; so we got a lunch from the
cook and rode with Brace as far as the poste. We stopped
at Regimental Headquarters where the Colonel granted
our request to visit the most interesting points, and as-
signed one of his men, named Dard, to show us about.
Before beginning our climb, we had a fine lunch with the
non-coms, and I never enjoyed a meal more. It was
served out under the trees, and was so well prepared that
we could not recognize army rations.

After the meal, we climbed about fifteen hundred feet
along the ground that the French had advanced over in
March in deep snow, against machine-gun nests. W^e had
so often had these positions pointed out to us by soldiers
passing the poste that we were glad to see how they

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looked in reality. Here on the top the Saxon troops had
rushed to stop the furious advance of the French and
had placed machine guns there, which brought the ad-
vance to a standstill. The stone walls, which took the
place of trenches, were not more than one hundred and
fifty feet apart, and between them lay dead Turks who
had fallen in a futile attack six weeks before. This ac-
counted for the smells, which we at first thought might
come from dead horses, until we realized that no horses
could get up there. The soldiers have built here attrac-
tive little stone houses. Perhaps during centuries to
come lone sheep-herders, grazing flocks high up there,
will w^onder who the queer people were who lived so far
from water.

May 30
Batchelor and I have visited a native mountain village,
and were interested to see the women carding wool and
operating a loom. They twist the wool into yarn while
they walk to and from work. Most of the men are in the
Bulgarian Army and the women do all the labor. They
use a crude wooden plough drawn by cows. Corn and hay
seem to be the principal crops — the latter being of a
very inferior quality. All work for the French Army is
paid for in bread.

James W. Harle, Jr.^

^ Of New York City; entered the Field Service in February, 19 15, joining
Section Two in April, and Section Ten in December, 1916; later served as
a sergeant in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. The above are extracts from
his Diary.

IV
Roads versus Machines

Koritza, March 2, 19 17
Any history of the Section's work in Albania would be
imperfect without a reference to the roads, which is given
in this paragraph from a letter of mine written to Paris
Headquarters last month :

" I was very glad to get your note relative to the ship-
ment of spare parts for our machines. No story that
Brown could have told you can picture the state of the
roads. Of four cars out the first day, three broke down with
rear axle trouble, and now the springs are beginning to sag
and what the future will give us, God only knows. One
spring has gone already on the way here, and I expect
others will go very soon. Hill can give us nothing, as he
uses ten front and ten rear a month! You can get some
idea of these roads when I tell you that our kitchen broke
its rear axle and its coupling-hook the first day. We man-
aged to make only fifty kilometres a day, running eight
hours! I should add that these roads are dry and have
not suffered from the winter. We have only been working
two days, and have had five cars out of commission in
that time, using up practically all our supply of spare
parts. One French Ford-section has nineteen cars out of
commission because of springs and axles. Out of 130
English Fords only four are running. And, believe me,
we had some work getting up here. Six of us were ten
hours crossing one pass of eleven miles, pushing every
car part of the way."

Henry M. Suckley^

* Of Rhinebeck, New York; Harvard, '10; was in Section Three from
its formation in 1915; became Chef of Section Ten in December of 1916;
killed while serving in Albania by an avion bomb.

The Stanford Unit

The Stanford Balkan Ambulance Unit was the second
instalment of Section Ten in the Orient. Touring seemed
to be the favorite pastime of the Unit, for in six short
months the majority of the men "wandered" from the
Stanford University campus in California, across Amer-
ica and the Atlantic to France, and from Bordeaux to
Paris.

In Paris the Unit was offered the opportunity to go to
the Balkans to replace men returning from Section Ten.
We were increased by an addition of eight men from Sec-
tion Fourteen and two from a third Stanford contingent.
Carl A. Randau became Chef, and the trip to the unknown
Albanian wilds began July 7, 1917. Along with fourteen
men for Section Three, who were also going to the Bal-
kans, the Unit was marked in traveling orders as "forty
American aviators" that better accommodations might
be extended along the trip. The French are clever at
being kind.

Notable among the incidents en route was the ' * fig-feed ' *
at the home of the American Consul in Livorno. There
never were better figs than those in the Consul's garden
when we arrived, and which were not there when we left.
One hour of lightning sight-seeing in Rome, where an
evening was made doubly enjoyable by the reception of
the American Consul and the American colony. Next
morning Mount Vesuvius obligingly belched out a cloud
of smoke as we dragged by on the slow troop-train.

Salonica lived up to expectations with its harbor full
of Allies' warships, with its soldiers of twenty-four na-
tionalities flocking the streets and bazaars, with its mina-
rets towering over the Turkish temples, and with its
many narrow streets. We should have appreciated Salon-

SECTION TEN

ica all the more had we foreseen the fire due to Turkish
incendiaries, which destroyed the city a month later.

A night on a Greek train, packed among soldiers of
all Allied varieties, brought us to Fiorina Station, near
Monastir, whence we embarked in two Packard trucks
for the trip over Pisadori Pass. Autos never ran over
this pass until the war taught people new uses for
them. Our first casualties occurred here — two of our
men succumbing to Balkan unsanitary conditions, the
beginning of the epidemic of sickness which ran through
the Unit during its entire stay. Fortunately they went
to the hospital by ones and twos, leaving sufficient men
to run cars.

Troop-Trains and Packards — Beginning Work

Despite a run-down and worn-out personnel, due to
three weeks of troop-train travel and the bouncing over
mountain roads, the arrival at the cantonment at Koritza
found us ready for an immediate introduction to work,
especially as the former section had left when it heard
of our arrival at Salonica, only Kimberly Stuart, the
Chef, remaining behind. So next morning found every car
that could roll out on the roads carrying malades and
blesses, and that morning began a rush of work which
lasted until the Section was recalled to France eighty-four
days later. During this time an average of twelve cars
were kept on the road, making thirty to ninety-five kilo-
metres apiece per day. There is no en repos in the Balkans.
In the first three days of running out along the shores of
Lake Presba from Gorica in Serbia to Koritza in Albania,
crossing Macedonia on the way, the Section lived on
excitement and the newness of the situation, and carried
269 men 5450 kilometres.

Fighting in Albania

They had an old-style way of fighting down there in the
Balkans. Trenches were not very practical except in a
few of the valleys, for the warfare was from peak to peak.

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Ambulancing there meant hauling the wounded and sick
down from the mountains over roads that were formerly
only meant for donkeys and ox-carts. Running out to
Gorica you wound across the Koritza Valley, up a
steep pass toward Monastir, along a mountain-ridge, and
down along the shore of Lake Presba, with its pretty
wooded island, once the seat of a Balkan Empire under
the Bulgars. Looking across the water you saw the Boche
side of the lake, and you could locate their positions on
the slope opposite you. You were in just as plain sight
of them as they were of you, which fact furnished fine
copy for the letters home, though if you were honest you
told, too, that the Boches had no guns that could reach
you, and they probably would not have wasted any
ammunition if they had had them, for it was hard to get
ammunition up these Balkan peaks ; so neither side wasted
any. When they did fire, it was usually at strategic posi-
tions which both sides avoided.

The Gorica poste was a collection of mud huts and tents
just out of range of Boche guns, but very easily located
by aeroplanes, which may account for, but does not
excuse, the fourteen different times the poste was bombed,
despite the huge red crosses on the buildings and the
grounds. One outpost was a little village up against a
towering peak on which men fought, and the other was a
tree on the road into Serbia, behind a hill which took all
the punishment when there was firing going on, and down
which men came straggling when sick or wounded — •
being either carried by brancardiers or on pack-mules.
Around the range lay Podgoritz and Swezda, where the
lines were nearer. Farther back was Zemlak, where
Suckley, Chej of the former Unit, was killed by a German
aero bomb.

We soon learned that, along the Albanian front, the
Boche aviators were our most dangerous enemies. They
had a habit of bombing Koritza every morning as regu-
larly as clock-work, while the French aviators were away
scouting over the Austrian lines. Our cantonment had

CROSSING THE SAKULEVO RIVER

ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK!

SECTION TEN

lost all its windows in one of those raids, and every few
days women and children were wounded or killed near
our quarters. The staff car had its side full of holes.

Roads — Mostly Bad

Probably our worst run was the Zelova with Russian
evacuations. Zelova was fifty kilometres from the hos-
pital at Koritza, over the bumpiest road an auto could
travel, and the Russians were not good passengers. It was
a daily occurrence for some machine in the convoy to
break down, but it never remained broken more than
one day at a time, thanks to the good work of the mechan-
ics, Johnston, Massuttie, Villier, and Martin.

There was the Muskopole trip, across the valley and
up the mountains over stones, bridges, and bumps suffi-
cient to kill ordinary blesses and impassable to all four-
wheeled vehicles except Fords and native ox-carts.
Muskopole was in "No Man's Land," and was held by
pro-French Komitadjis, or Albanian bandits, and by a
few lonely Chinese sentries. The town itself was in ruins,
having been systematically destroyed by the Turks, Bul-
gars, and pro-Austrian Albanians, along with practically
the entire population. Muskopole used to be the Mecca
of the Balkans, boasting over twenty churches with
wonderful mosaics and fine metal-work. Now these
ruined churches are filled with musty stacks of bones,
each skeleton scrambled with the next one, and the only
inhabitants are a few lingering natives who want to die
among the remains of their relatives.

An Attack and an Advance — The Albanian

Navy

On September 5 Section Ten followed the Albanian offen-
sive from Lake Malik to Lake Ochrida. In five days the
attacking divisions drove the Boches back some fifty
kilometres more than the schedule laid out for two weeks'
operations. Section Ten had to move pastes northward
day and night every few hours to keep up with the

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

attack. An Austrian hospital one morning in Pogredec
on Lake Ochrida was a French hospital in the evening —
beds, instruments, buildings, long, thin German Red
Crosses, and all. Once the ambulances got ahead of the
attack and established a poste in front of the infantry and
artillery, with only a few cavalry to keep it company in
case the Boches stopped running. Nothing could stop the
wild charges of the Moroccan spahis except the order of
the French General to slow down until the food trains
could catch up. Only pack-mules and Ford ambulances
were able to follow the army over the pontoon bridges
and the bad roads left by the Austrians. On the steep hill
coming out of Pogredec from Lake Ochrida, the General
happened one day to see Lieutenant Daniel Faure and
Chef Carl A. Randau pushing an ambulance up the grade;
so he ordered a dozen poilus to be stationed there to do
nothing but this work. It was too steep even for Fords to
climb without help. At a number of other places men had
to be stationed to help machines through mud and bad
places.

The success of the attack gave Section Ten two new
cantonments, one at Lesnicha, where the hastily deserted
headquarters of the Boche officers were turned over to
the Unit, and another at Pogredec on Lake Ochrida. This
latter cantonment was on a sandy shore, with a fine
swimming-beach, of as pretty a mountain lake as can be
found anywhere. Before the war the place was noted as a
resort. Across the water was Ochrida, held by the Aus-
trians, whence rafts armed with machine guns came out
to worry the French. But the latter were more than mas-
ters of the naval situation with their two launches armed
with cannon. These boats had been brought over the
mountains on trucks and trains from Salonica and were
manned by French sailors from the navy.

With no two weeks of work ever the same, life in the
Balkans did not grow monotonous, largely because we
were always busy. Thus, our repos consisted of coming in
to the Koritza cantonment, where the men were always

SECTION TEN

on call helping out the French ambulance service. The
Unit averaged twelve cars on duty for eighty-four days
without a break, and many times we had all twenty cars
"rolling" up and down the mountains. In August, 2675
men were carried 40,506 kilometres. In September, 1779
men were carried 18,840 kilometres. The first twenty
days of October saw 12,000 miles covered and some 800
men moved. At the end, three cars were always without
wheels, owing to shortage of supplies, the wheels being
switched from one machine to another as it went on duty.

Everywhere in the Balkans we encountered natives
who spoke English and who had lived in America or had
relatives who had been there. A large percentage of the
Albanian population was of this sort, and all wanted
to move to "the States" after the war. Their "Hullo,
Johnny, how are you? What you want?" was the greeting
everywhere, and their friendliness often came in handy
when the Section wanted to buy something, or when we
got lost on a strange road. John, the barber, became our
authority for after-dinner discussions on Albanian life.

Food conditions in Albania were bad. People actually
starved, and it was a common sight to see women and
children picking up grains of corn and wheat from the
filth of the gutter in front of the French supply head-
quarters. Sugar and flour could not be bought. The
Army was forbidden to get grain from the natives, for the
production of the soil was to be reserved for the civilian
population which almost starved the year before. Army
supplies were better, but were not sufficiently good to
keep the men well even when they lived up to the rule of
the doctors, "never eat anything not cooked an hour."
Finally, Vern Caughell and Sedley Peck took over the
cooking end of the Section's activities and we lived d
Vamericaine so far as style of cooking was concerned.

The valley in which the Section worked was, with the
adjacent hills, known as the Republic of Koritza, and
with the help of the French the natives were improving
conditions considerably. Toward the end of our stay the

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Albanians won to our good graces, though for a long time
we considered them only a ragged, dirty, ignorant, and
starving people who let the women do all the work while
the men fought among themselves. The women were
rough and ragged. Both sexes were hard to deal with as
regards business, which could be conducted only after
much Oriental bartering. But gradually we concluded
that these were conditions brought on by over six years
of war, in which the Albanians had been the victims of
other Powers.

The Famous Bazaar

In two ways the Section won for America immortal fame
among the Albanians. The first was due to our bazaar.
When the Section was ordered back to France, we were
told to travel without much baggage. Having come down
with a full winter equipment, we had much to dispose of,
and an auction was started in the reception-room of our
Koritza house. The word quickly passed around, and for
a week the place was packed with bartering and bicker-
ing natives. They were eager to get anything American,
having had no foreign goods for years, but insisted on the
Oriental haggling before buying. Prices soared, but the
goods sold.

The other cause of American renown was a farewell
reception given us by the missionaries and Albanians —
Mahometans and Christians alike, where more than half
of the natives were of Turkish faith. They called for
musical selections from the Americans when we had
gathered in the missionary school. So the missionaries
asked Aupperle for some lively airs, explaining that he
was an artist at "rag music." Aupperle took the stool, and
as the piano began to shake and "Oh, Johnny, oh,
Johnny" thundered out, heads began to rise out of the
crowd everywhere to see what he was doing to the piano.
The Albanians were dumbfounded. Then the reception
needed a fitting climax. Translated speeches on both sides
did not seem ample. Finally some one had the happy

SECTION TEN

thought to suggest a college yell, and we gave a "Sky-
rocket" for Albania. When we had finished, they were too
amazed for words, and it was several minutes before they
could recover breath enough to clamor, "Do it again."
We did, but even then they were not convinced that it
was a human effort, and some of them visited the mission-
aries next morning to ask how it was that "the Americans
cheered like a machine."

Leaving Albania for Good

Monday, October 22, after barely three months of serv-
ice, the Section bumped for the last time over the nar-
row, cobbled, crooked streets of Koritza in the White
truck and saw for the last time the Republic of Koritza.

The Field Service sections in France were being taken
over by the newly arrived American Army, but the
United States War Department, we subsequently learned,
had refused to adopt the Field Service sections in the
Balkans, because the United States was as yet at war
only with Germany, and there were no German troops
engaged on the Balkan front. It was considered unneutral
to have ambulance sections serving with troops opposed
to the Austrian and Bulgarian armies. Hence we had
been recalled to France. Under orders from the Field
Service Headquarters we turned over all our cars, tools,
spare parts, and equipment to the French formations
with which we had been serving, and made a rather hasty
departure.

After twice almost going over embankments as the
lorry skidded on the muddy Pisadori Pass, we arrived at
Fiorina Station, and soon were off again on our wander-
ing, going first to Salonica now ruined and blackened,
then down the Greek coast in a little Greek liner, to
Athens, where we spent a week, and then up to Bralo in
Central Greece, over the Parnassus Pass to I tea, and on
the Gulf of Corinth, to Italy, and thence by train to
France, following in the wake of the Italian reserv^es.

Paris seemed like home after the crude customs of

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Albania, and it was days before we could pass pastry-
shops without entering them, or keep from staring blankly
at every good-looking girl. A week after the arrival in
Paris, we were in eight different branches of service, and
Section Ten became only a fine memory of a wonderful
five months of our lives. >

Frank J. Taylor^

^ Of Los Angeles, California; Stanford University; served with Section
Ten in the Orient from July to November, 1917.

After the Battle

' Koritza, Albania, September 21, 1917
Fighting on this front is very different from the species
presented on the Western Front. There are few heavy
guns and no massing even of soixante-quinzes. The French
used only thirty, tout-ensemble, in this last "drive." The
two factors which necessitate this difference are the great
distance from suppHes and the mountainous nature of
the battle-front. All supplies from Salonica come on a
little single track, then must be loaded on camions, the
number of which is not sufficient to handle a great offen-
sive ; and from camions they must be again transferred to
mules or two-wheeled wagons, on which they make an-
other journey of some thirty kilometres to the front. The
roads are not good, and lead over strenuous hills, making
the camion part of the journey slow, tedious, and expen-
sive.

The French attack occurred in the region of Lake
Ochrida, the objective being to push the line forward to
a point where it would interrupt the German supply
artery from Durazzo to Monastir. Also the French wished
to gain a road from Koritza to Monastir previously held
by the Boche, and which wound around the northern end
of Lake Presba. I was wakened at three the morning the
attack started and was sent out to poste. I made the
acquaintance of a French lieutenant, and we climbed up
a hill to watch the sport. The French held one range of
hills and the Austrians a parallel range of loftier moun-
tains. Between was a green valley traversed by a small
river. French batteries in the valley and others behind
the French line of hills undertook to silence the Boche
guns on the opposing mountains. We could see the flashes
of the French battery in front of us in the valley, con-

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

cealed from the enemy by a high grove of trees, then hear
the nervous, metalHc crack of the guns, and then, strain-
ing our eyes, could see the sudden burst of dust as the
shell broke near the enemy trench. The French main-
tained a superior fire throughout, silencing most of the
enemy guns, and ripping up some of their trenches. Then
the infantry charged up the hill and took it. It was cer-
tainly some feat, for the other day Aupperle and I climbed
up to the German positions, taking our time, and we
were certainly winded and tired when we finally gained
the summit. However, I am not sure how much resistance
they met with, as they were opposed by Czech-Bohemi-
ans who surrendered more than willingly in the majority
of instances.

From the first attack on it was "duck soup" for the
French, who chased them over a dozen succeeding ranges
of hills. The major part of the fighting was done by
Moroccan horsemen, a wonderful body of troops, riding
splendid stallions, who preceded the infantry, driving
back the Boches and charging the most stubborn heights
on foot. A regiment of Senegalese from Africa — tower-
ing, jet-black negroes — also participated to a large and
satisfactory extent.

Altogether the French pierced to a distance of some
fifty-five kilometres, a distance, if gained on the Western
Front, which would certainly make consternation reign
in Berlin. We followed close behind the troops, preceding
the ravitaillement, and driving over some of the damned-
est roads I have ever seen. In some places it was so steep
that every one, even the assis, had to get out and walk.
On one grade a squad of brancardiers was detailed to
help us over; they have a regular camp there now,
whence they sally forth at the despairing sounds of our
approaching Fords.

The French now have a boat on Lake Ochrida, to clear
the lake of hostile craft, part of the shores of which they
at present occupy. It was put on a train at Salonica, and
then trucked by camion over all sorts of roads the last

SECTION TEN

hundred kilometres. It weighs nine tons, and has a 58 mm.
cannon, and a couple of machine guns. No "Dutch " peri-
scopes have as yet been sighted on the lake, but they are
expected daily. The whole business makes quite a re-
freshing piece of news after all the scientific and precisely
manipulated warfare of the Western Front.

They took a bunch of prisoners, most of whom come
either from Dalmatia or Bohemia. We talked with a lot
of them, and they all seemed sincerely glad to be cap-
tured, as they had had little to eat and showed that
plainly by the emaciated condition of their bodies. Most
of them cared not a bit which side won, and some seemed
to be in sympathy with the cause of the Allies. A few,
however, thought that the war would last a considerable
time, and the Boches be finally victorious.

Almost all of the French poilus whom I carry and ask
when they think the war will end, say ''Bienot — trois
mois." They are all very fed up with being so far away
from "/a belle France."

Burnet C. Wohlford ^

1 Of Escondido, California; Stanford University, 'i8; in S.S.U. loof the
Field Service, June, 1917, to November, 1917; served with the U.S.A.
Ambulance Service during the war.

.V^?

VII

Made an Officer

Albania, August 8
I AM now an officer, the Sous-Chef of the Section, and
quite largely responsible for the actual condition of the
Corps, so that with the fearful rush we stepped into, I 've
been kept humping. And so, since it is my duty to super-
vise the spare parts department and be in command of
the French mechanics who repair the cars, the combina-
tion of circumstances has provided what I 've long been
longing for on this side — something real to do. The past
ten days I have risen promptly at 6 a.m., worked all day
with time out for meals, and knocked off at 8 p.m., read-
ing from then until 9 or 10, when I have rolled under for
the "eight hours."

Being an officer certainly has its advantages and its
drawbacks. The chief of the latter is the being called on
to order men I've "bummed" through college with as
friends for two, three, or four years. I think it's as hard
for them to obey, or rather acquiesce. The privileges are,
primarily, better quarters, better accommodations, and
better food when travelling, more opportunity for work,
and a valet. Oh, yes, a valet! He's an Albanian who has
been to America, and speaks English, Albanian, Greek,
Serbian, and French. We call him "Rapide," because he
is slow, and he helps in the kitchen outside of "office
hours."

Carl Randau and I have for quarters a large room with
five barred windows, in a one-story Albanian stone bun-
galow, quite near the Section's main quarters. The place
is surrounded by a three-foot-thick, ten-foot-high stone
wall, with a mediaeval fortress gate, barred at night by
eight-inch square oak timbers. All this because of bandits,
you see. The walls and ceiling of the room are tinted an

l-H

SECTION TEN

exquisite pink ; the fireplace and mantel between the two
front windows are a glowing Lake Tahoe blue ; while the
row of closets at the back of the room is a livid green. The
door matches the fireplace. The floor is bare, with holes
in it. We each have a folding iron bed brought from the
French front, and over them we have draped mosquito
nettings, completely encircling each bed and extending
five feet above them. They look like posters. Each of us
has unearthed a table, and these are already covered with
the usual litter of books and papers and lamps. With the
officership goes a big, ugly automatic, all loaded, to lay
on the table against assault and as a paper-weight. On
the whole, everything is O.K., and we have made our-
selves quite comfortable here.

From Pittsburgh to Albania — Bartering

Augtist 1 8
Recently I was sitting on my running-board waiting for
my engine to cool after a steep hill, when along came a
ballet-skirted Albanian clubbing a donkey. I was feeling
"funny," so I called out in English, "Hello, Joe, what ye
beating that donkey for?" And he came right back,
"Hello!" And then admitted that he was from Pitts-
burgh, Pa., U.S.A. What a reversion! From Pittsburgh to
beating a donkey across a lonely Albanian pass, the while
clothed in that incongruous garb !

The Road is life! There's more music and religion in
the Road, especially the Mountain Road, than in all the
stone temples of the world.

September 17
I'm prepa'ring to go to Koritza on the ist and celebrate
my twenty-first birthday. Such an unthought-of place
for me to celebrate my majority! Still, I look at it as an
omen of an interesting life. If I 'm here now and I Ve seen
what I have seen when I 'm only twenty, what shall I not
have seen and done when I 'm fifty? It's a question and
a promise, if only the war don't last too long to bring

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

about a tragedy of lost ambitions and energies. If it lasts
many years longer, that will be one of the tragedies —
broken, dismayed youth.

William J. Losh ^

* Of San Francisco; Stanford, '17; in the Field Service, Section Four-
teen, March to June, 1917; Section Ten, July to November, 1917, as
Sous-Chef; subsequently First Lieutenant, U.S.A. Ambulance Service,
with the French Army. These are extracts from home letters.

Section Tivelve

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Croom W. Walker, Jr.
II. JuLiEN H. Bryan
III. Ralph N. Barrett

• SUMMARY

Section Twelve left Paris on February 7, 1917, bound for
Bar-le-Duc. It stopped first at Longeville, then at Vadelain-
court and Jubecourt. With Dombasle as its base, the Section
worked Esnes and the Bois d'Avocourt. It was at the former
place the Section first saw action. Twelve later worked in the
Sainte-Menehould, Suippes, and Chalons sectors. It was at
Vaux-Varennes, its next and last move as Section Twelve, in
a chateau located in a valley surrounded by the high hills of
France, that it was taken over by the American Army, there-
after to be numbered Six-Thirty of the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service.

Section Twelve

I see them, men transfigured,
As in a dream, dilate
Fabulous with the Titan-throb
Of battling Europe's fate;

For history 's hushed before them,
And legend flames afresh, —
Verdun, the name of thunder,
Is written on their flesh.

Laurence Binyon

Leaving Rue Raynouard

The big majority of the Section came over on the same
boat, the Espagne, and landed in Bordeaux on January
17, 1917. We arrived in Paris on the 19th. Then began
our initiation into the Field Service and our acquaintance
with those never-to-be-forgotten French official papers
that we all had to have and now keep as precious sou-
venirs of bureaucracy. We more or less wandered out to
"21 " and there began our service and career as ambu-
lance men. For a while we loafed around, listening wide-
eyed to the wondrous tales of the permissionnaires, put-
ting Fords together, gathering enough equipment to go

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

to the North Pole, and spending every cent we could
lay hands on. Finally came our assignment to a body
to be known as Section Twelve and our introduction to
our prospective Chef, Harry Iselin; whereupon we were
shown our cars and got to work on them. Then came the
farewell dinner, at which we were addressed by several
prominent Frenchmen and our own chief Air. Piatt An-
drew. On February 8, we left rue Raynouard bright and
early, with the good wishes of all, including Fisher, who
had been "to the mat" with each of us in attempting to
beat into our heads the whys and wherefores of a Ford.

Well, anyway, we got under way somehow or other,
and our joys and troubles began. We managed to make
our first stopping-place, Champigny, without any mis-
haps to speak of. But new cars were beginning to show off,
and expert chauffeurs were beginning to be less boastful.
Wheels would not steer and carburetors would not car-
burate, and drivers would not work, but argued the ques-
tion in the middle of the road as to whether the actual
complication was in the top or the differential.

Meanwhile our soft-voiced mechanic cussed and swore.
We managed it, though, and arrived at Alontmirail about
8 P.M., tired and cold. Strangely, and much to our surprise
we had a wonderful meal cooked by our more-than-
marvellous Andy. Then weary and sleepy, we crawled
into a hay-loft for a good night's rest. Early the next
morning we were on the way again, stopping at Sezanne
for luncheon. The afternoon's journey was accomplished
without mishap and we arrived at Sommesous, where we
spent the night in a barn with the horses and pigs.

A Stay at Longeville — Verdun and Esnes

By the next noon we made Vitry-le-Frangois, had lunch,
and arrived at Longeville, by way of Bar-le-Duc, about
eight that night, again cold, tired, and hungry, but still
enthusiastic. All ears were cocked for guns: for some of us
poor benighted innocents thought we were at the front.
In Longeville we spent many speculative days, were

SECTION TWELVE

finally assigned to a division, where we met that never-
to-be-forgotten Frenchman, Dr. Rolland, the Medecin
Chef of the I32d, and on the morning of February 2^),
the Division at length started for the front. We hesitated
at Vadelaincourt, and at last arrived at Jubecourt, from
which, on March 14, we left for Dombasle-en-Argonne,
where we relieved Section One, and commenced our work
near the historical Hill 304 and Mort Homme, a region
just about as alive with batteries as any I have ever seen
in France.

Later we went out to look over that wonderful little
spot, our poste de secours at Esnes. Over the top of the hill,
above Bethelainville, w^e blithely rolled; we even began
to descend, every one agreeing that it was a wonderful
sight and feeling quite brave. However, Montzeville came
into view, and w^ith it the shells began to fall. We got
through all right, though, and started for Esnes. This
road from Montzeville to Esnes ran for some three kilo-
metres parallel with and in plain sight of the trenches.
Incidentally it was practically the only means of com-
munication with our hill, and consequently all troops,
supplies, artillery, ammunition, and so on passed over
said route. One knows too well what happens on that
kind of a road. Suffice it to say that many a night we were
scared stiff as we rolled over it, praying with all our souls
that our well-beloved voitiire would keep chugging on
all four pegs. Lord! the memories of that road! Flying
artillery with the caisson hitting both sides of the road
at once; tired, dusty soldiers, ravitaillement wagons, and
those damned little donkeys, carrying ammunition,
which simply would not get out of the way; everywhere
wreckage, broken wagons, overturned guns, with always
shells whipping through the air.

W^ell, we arrived at Dombasle on the 14th and got set-
tled nicely in about the most comfortable and likable
cantonment we ever had, then Section One rolled out and
we started to work. The first cars went out to the pastes
and came back with wonderful tales of our good fortune

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

in being attached to a division with such wonderful hran-
cardiers. And right here I want to express our thanks
to our friends, the little priest, Bouvier, and the ever-
present and cheerful cyclist and photographer, Barde-
linni, who did so much in different ways to make pleasant
our life at the front. Everything, in fact, went along
smoothly for a few days; then the very devil broke loose.

An Attack — All Cars Rolling

About four or five o'clock on one Sunday afternoon,
Houston^ and McLane were, I believe, at Esnes, while I
was at ^lontzeville, the halfway poste. The other boys
were having just about as hard a time, if not worse, at
other pastes. Along about four a terrible barrage started,
and some thirty minutes later Houston stuck his head in
the ahri door at Montzeville and gave me the word to go
up to Esnes. On the way up, I passed McLane with a
load and in a few minutes was on my way back myself.
From then on, for a long period of hours, it was just one
continual roll, roll, roll. Things were happening thick and
fast; night came on, and still there was no let-up. Cars
began to get into trouble, the traffic was awful, and still
faster and faster the blesses came pouring in.

All credit must be given to our Chef, who, although a
new man, gave a wonderful example of command and
direction. He, too, had the hard job of keeping us all up
and going, notwithstanding the excited state we were in.
How a man could keep awake as long as he did without
going under has always been a mystery to me. Then
there was the incident when the cars, first rolling out to
Esnes and things getting pretty hot, were met by the
little priest with these words, "Well, I knew you boys
would come, anyway." One can imagine how these words
affected us and how we worked after that. Later, by the
way, one of the boys told about being in his little cubby-

1 Henry H. Houston, 2d, of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; University of
Pennsylvania; who after America entered the war, became a Lieutenant
in the U.S. Field Artillery and was killed in August, 1918.

^^^^^^ ^^^^^H

' -'S^^^r-^S^^ ■'■' ■

■* ■

^ ^^^ ■>.>:■,■*;■, -"^HBH^^^ - "

' 'y~/'-' -fJ'P'''^:M

THE CHATEAU OF ESNES " FOSTE." BEHIND IT LIES HIEL 304

CAMOUFLAGE OX THE ESNES ROAD JUST BEFORE ENTERING-
MONTZEVILLE. MORT HOMME IS IN THE DISTANCE

SECTION TWELVE

hole in the ahri and hearing, early one morning, one of the
priests offering a prayer. He prayed for the soldiers, for
the Allies, for the officers, for France and all the stricken
and wounded, and lastly he said something that made
this boy prick up his ears: ''And for the young American
volunteers who have come to us of their own free will
from that great nation across the seas, who daily and
gladly risk their lives in order to ease the suffering and
do, what they say, is just their little part, — may the
good God watch over and protect these and bless them
as France thanks them. Amen." This prayer was spoken
in French and without any idea that it was being over-
heard. This was the sort of thing that made the Section
what it was in all its future work. By the 20th the attack
was over and things became more or less normal, though
there was plenty of work always at that particular part
of the line.

When America Declared War

Then we woke up one morning about April 6, 1917, and
learned that the United vStates had declared war on Ger-
many. Never were we happier and never were we treated
better or welcomed with more enthusiasm than when we
carried the news out to the front. Bottles of wine were
unearthed, and we were patted on the back until we felt
as though we ourselves had been responsible for the
declaration. To cap the climax we were informed at this
moment that five of our number had received the Croix
de Guerre for the work done during the attack of the
1 8th to the 20th. These men were singled out for distinc-
tion, but there was not one in the Section who did not
work hard and well during those three terrible days.

On April 12 our Division left the trenches and we were
again relieved by Section One. We lined our cars up along-
side of the road, all loaded and ready to start, and Section
One rolled in amid much tooting of horns and shouting,
again taking its old place in the line. We got our convoy
under way sadly, for we had spent many happy days in

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

the little old knocked-down and kicked-about village of
Dombasle.

We went with our Division as far as Senard, where,
after having made camp and expecting to stay en repos
for a while, we were suddenly ordered up and were on our
way again in thirty minutes' time. We were transferred
from our old Division to the 7ist, much to our sorrow,
for we had learned to love and respect our comrades, who
had gone into line with us ninety-five per cent strong
and had come out with only about fifty per cent left.

All left the I32d Division with regret, for we were
much liked there, as this official farewell from the Mede-
cin Chef, Dr. Rolland, testifies: "On quitting us, Section
Twelve leaves behind it a feeling of unanimous regret
among all the brancardiers of the Division. Coming from
a very distant land to share in the defence of a good cause
and lend their aid to our wounded, these friends of France
displayed from the very start the finest qualities. Scarcely
a month ago they knew nothing of the dangers of war,
and without any previous preparation, in a most danger-
ous sector, and at a most critical period, they took up
their new work in a fine spirit of courage and devotion,
thereby personifying the splendid characteristics of their
great nation. In a few days they inscribed their names on
the honor roll of their Division. The Medecin Chef cannot
let you depart without thanking you warmly for your
aid on all occasions and without expressing his regret at
being thus separated from such worthy comrades in this
struggle."

Changes in the personnel now occurred. Second Lieu-
tenant Bayard was called away and replaced by Lieuten-
ant Rene Posselle, under whom it was our good fortune
to work thereafter.

The Argonne
From Senard we went to Sainte-Menehould, where we
found our new Division in line and where our work was
rather quiet, and we learned to know the villagers and

SECTION TWELVE

were met by the utmost courtesy and consideration on
the part of the French soldiers and officers. Here we
spent about a month, having gained additions to our
family in the persons of Bradley, Sinclair, and a few
others. About this time, too, Houston and Dunham left
us for the school at Meaux, subsequently becoming chefs
of motor transport sections, while our Chef, Iselin, went
also to the same place. Ray Coan was appointed Chef
and Alan McLane Sous-Chef. Here we had a wonderful
party with Section Thirteen that had just come down
from the lines with an army citation to its credit, which
event, of course, had to be celebrated.

From Sainte-Menehould we went to Billy-le-Grand,
where we spent two or three days, and then to Recy,
near Chalons-sur-Marne, where we stayed en repos for
about a month, during which period we had little else
to do but play cards, fight, eat, sleep, and generally enjoy
ourselves. Along about this time the Section began to
break up badly. Benney^ went into French Aviation,
where he was subsequently killed at the front. He, with
Harry Craig ^ and Waller Harrison,^ who were subse-
quently killed in the American Aviation Service, and
Henry Houston, who was later killed in the Artillery,
were the only members of the original Section to make, so
far as is known, the final sacrifice. We render them all due
honor, and salute them as comrades who never faltered
in their duty and who were over-eager to accept service
of any kind. They went to their deaths as men should,

1 Philip Phillips Benney, of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; joined the Field
Service in January, 1917; served with Section Twelve until July, 1917; sub-
sequently entered the French Aviation Service and was killed in an air bat-
tle in February, 1918.

2 Harry Worthington Craig, of Cleveland, Ohio; University of Wiscon-
sin, '19; went to the front with Section Twelve, remaining with it until July,
1917; he was later in American Aviation and was killed in action in August,
1918.

' Waller Lisle Harrison, Junior, of Lebanon, Kentucky; Oberlin, '19;
joined the Field Service in February, 1917, and served in Sections Twelve
and Three until November, 1917; subsequently joined the U.S. Aviation
Service and was killed in an accident in October, 1918.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

serving their country to the last moment. A little later
Faith left us for the same service, while Tenney, Har-
rison, and Sinclair wended their way to the Orient to
enter the sections which had gone down there, where
were already two of our former number, Kelleher and
Chauvenet. A little later Croom Walker took charge of
a new section going to the front. Finally, the 8th of July
arrived, the first period of enlistment was up, and when
the Section made its next move very few were left of
the original members.

From Recy, the Section went to Suippes, in the Cham-
pagne district, where it stayed for a while and then shifted
over toward Reims. There it migrated around from vil-
lage to village, finally landing in the little hamlet of Vaux-
Varennes, where the recruiting officers of the United
States Army found it, and old Twelve of the American
Field Service passed out of existence. Gone but, we are
sure, not forgotten.

Groom W. Walker, Jr.^

1 Of Chicago, Illinois; University of Virginia; joined Section Twelve
of the Field Service in January, 191 7; subsequently a First Lieutenant,
U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

The Farewell Dinner — En Route

One of the finest speeches I have ever heard was given
at our farewell dinner in 21 rue Raynouard by M. Hugues
Le Roux, a famous French journalist and adventurer. He
told us in almost perfect English how he had lost his only
son early in the war, and he bravely described how that
one had died and how he had barely managed to get to
the bedside and hear the story from the boy's own lips
before the latter passed away. He showed us why the
work of the Field Service meant so much to him, because
his boy when wounded had been left for days at the front
on account of the insufficiency of the ambulances; and he
made every man who had come from a mere desire for
adventure, feel that it was really his duty to help France.
Among the others who gave stirring speeches at the din-
ner were Mr. Andrew, and Mr. Frank H. Simonds, the
well-known war correspondent.

Longeville, Monday, February 14, 1917
There was no room for us in Bar-le-Duc Saturday, and
we had to push on to this little place where we slept in an
old barn. But the close atmosphere drove us to our cars.
I have made a regular little cabin out of mine. A good-
sized bundle of straw, spread over the floor of the car,
makes a fine mattress and for my heating and lighting
system I have two kerosene lanterns. I am writing now
sitting up in bed with my mackinaw on, since the heaters
are not always too efficient. Pretty soon it will become
stuffy, and then I shall throw back the canvas flap and
the side windows and go to sleep.

Longeville, February 26
On Thursday we had our first evacuation work. At
Haironville we picked up two assis and a couche. The

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

latter was in bad shape, and we had to drive back very
carefully. We dropped all three cases at the big hospital
in Bar, and then speeded home by the canal road.

Incidents at the Front

Jiihecourt, March 8
I HAVE just returned from the regular nightly rat hunt.
It is a pastime not very well known in America, but very
popular here at the front. Every evening we collect our
clubs and flashlights and raid an old barn near the river.
Two or three of us usually rush in together, flash our
lights about until we spot a rat, and then fall upon him
with our sticks. It takes a good clean shot to kill, and we
consider ourselves lucky if we get two or three in an
evening.

Inside "Shenickadaydy," Juhccoiirt, March ii
The General commanding our Division passed through
the village this afternoon and reviewed the Section. Our
orders were to stand motionless beside our cars and look
straight ahead. But the General was a good-natured old
fellow and spoke to several of the men as he passed, in-
stead of marching formally by, funeral fashion.

Domhasle-en-Argonne, St. Patrick's Day, i^i'j
With the exception of a few road-menders, we are the
sole occupants of the place. The peasants were all forced
to flee after the shelling. Yesterday late in the afternoon
I went with Craig to learn the road. Immediately upon
leaving the village we came into plain sight of the trenches.
I experienced the same shivery feeling here which one
often has at home before getting up to make a speech in
school. You try to tell yourself everything is all right,
but still you seem to quiver all over. However, from the
glances I stole at Craig now and then, I knew that he was
just as worked up as I was. This idea seemed to cheer me
immensely, and I felt much more at ease aftenvards. I
wonder why this should be so !

SECTION TWELVE

In the abri of the posie de secours at Esnes, March 20

A LITTLE after noon on Sunday the heaviest bombard-
ment we have yet heard started. I was given the Esnes
run, the one I had made with Craig, and where I am now,
w^aiting until a full load of blesses arrives. Finally I man-
aged to get to the chateau and found three grands blesses
waiting for me outside. I drove very slowly and carefully
on my return trip, but sometimes I struck a bad hole
which I had n't seen and the poor fellows moaned and
shrieked pathetically. But finally I managed to get them
into Dombasle. Then I went back to Esnes again for
more, and kept on working until four o'clock the next
afternoon, I did n't sleep for thirty-five hours, and som^e
of the men, those who had been on duty before, went
for four or five hours more than this. The result of our
two days' work, ending Tuesday night, was 377 wounded
carried a total distance of 10,000 kilometres, which, the
crowded condition of the roads being taken into account,
was no small achievement.

Dombasle, March 24
I CRAWLED into my blankets here at three o'clock this
morning. They sent me out about ten last evening on a
special call to Poste Two. I had three runs down to Ville
with some blesses from a German coup de main, and this
kept me going for some time. Fortunately there was a full
moon or I should have had a terrible time in the woods.
" Barney" Faith and I laid in a supply of wood this
afternoon which ought to last us a month. But it is still
pretty cold, and Bradley and Cook keep the fireplace so
well filled up that we have to have two or three cords on
hand all the time. We keep It stacked up in the corner
where the piano used to be. The two of us ran my ambu-
lance down the street to the wreck of an old mansion,
filled the back chock full of banister pickets, assorted
furniture, and wainscoting which we tore from the walls,
and carried it back to our one-room apartment on the
hill.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Dombasle, March 28
Chauvenet has just come in from Poste Two. On his way
out a "210" landed in the middle of the road just in
front of him, and a great piece of steel tore through the
top of his car not ten inches from his head, and dropped
into the back of the ambulance. He did not know that
the car had been touched until half an hour later, for he
was so stunned by the force of the explosion, and so over-
come by the shell-gasses through which he was forced to
ride, that he barely got out alive. Every one is envious
and wishes that it had happened to him — at least they
say so.

Un Couche Grave

Dombasle, March 30

Thursday night the blesses from the morning attack
began to pile in at Esnes. I went on at eight o'clock as a
reserve. The first time down I had one couche who could n't
stand the pain. He almost drove me crazy with his shriek-
ing and yells of "For God's sake, stop!" And several
times when I happened to hit, accidentally, a shell-hole
or a log, he actually rose up in his agony and pounded
with his bare fists upon the wall of the ambulance. But I
knew I could n't help him by stopping, and I felt that I
might save his life if I hurried. After I got out of Montze-
ville, he quieted down, and I supposed this was because
the road was so much smoother. But not until I stopped
in front of the hospital at Ville did I learn the truth. The
poor fellow had died on the road !

In the abri at Poste Two, April 6
At supper to-night the good news came, which we, and
especially the Frenchmen, have been waiting to hear for
months — the United States had declared war on Ger-
many. One of the brancardiers returning from his fur-
lough broke the news to us. We were all below in the abri
when he came rushing down the muddy stairs and
shouted to us what had happened. And each one of those
simple poiliis wrung my hand.

O
H
-<1

1—4

If,

fa
o

Q
Z

o
o

SECTION TWELVE

A Cantonment — and a Home

Dombasle, April 13
Benney and I were talking before the fire in his room
to-day and Gilmore was attempting to make hot choco-
late, when a knock came at the door. He yelled, " Entrez,"
and, as the door slowly opened, we saw an old French
couple standing on the threshold. This had been their
home six months before, and now they had returned to
look upon the wreckage. The woman wept when she saw
the shell-hole through the ceiling, the broken furniture
which we were burning, and the heap of old family treas-
ures lying in one corner. We said nothing; we could n't
say anything; but as they departed sadly, the man mut-
tered, " It is not very nice, but after the war we will ..."
and we heard no more. Benney and I were silent, and
Gilmore forgot about his cocoa for a few minutes. It had
never occurred to us before, when we tore a ruined house
to pieces for firewood, and carted off all the old books
and ornaments for souvenirs, that people like these actu-
ally lived in the houses, or would ever return.

Abri at Ferme des Wacqiics, July I
To-day a young aspirant named Lucot took me around
to the officers' abri and introduced me to his Captain and
two Lieutenants, who invited me in to dinner. At dessert
they told me they wanted some bright American girls for
their marraines. So I wrote down the names and addresses
of four of my friends at home who, I thought, would be
willing to correspond with them. Then I described each
one in turn and let each officer pick the one he wanted.
It was very funny the way they debated about the girls.
They decided that Lucot should take the youngest, who
was very intelligent and quite small, because he also
was young and small, although he did n't come up to the
intelligence standard. The Captain preferred the tall and
sedate brunette, because his grandmother was tall and
sedate. The Lieutenants had a terrible dispute over the

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

remaining two, one of whom was a marvellous dancer
and the other very beautiful. At last they ended the
argument by throwing up a two-franc piece and calling
the turn of the coin.

Ferme de Piemont, July 9
It 's a true saying that a Ford will run anywhere you take
it. Frutiger ^ ran his machine into a tree on the Suippes
road ; but instead of climbing it, as the Ford joke-book
would have it, the car bounded over to the opposite side
of the road and lay there for several minutes on its back
with the rear wheels spinning around at a great rate,
before he was able to shut off the motor. Then he waited
until a couple of Frenchmen came along and with their
help turned it right side up again. After this he thanked
them and rode off as though nothing had happened.

My last day with good old Section Twelve — July 11, 19 17
I LEFT the Section for good to-day. I am going home, I 'd
a thousand times rather stay in France until the war is
over, but the family does n't agree with me. Therefore, I
must go home to argue it out. Princeton opens in Sep-
tember and I '11 be there with the rest. But next fall it will
be France again. I have finished saying good-bye to the
fellows. As for old 464, I patted her radiator in a last fond
caress and gave her a final drink of water five minutes
ago. Dear old "Shen-ick-a-day-dy," as the poihis call

her.

JuLiEN H. Bryan ^

1 Theodore Raymond Frutiger of Morris, Pennsylvania; served with
Section Twelve from June to August, 19 17; subsequently entered the
R.O.T.C. v/here he died at Camp Colt, Gettysburg on April 19, 19 18.

2 Of Titusville, Pennsylvania; Princeton, '21; entered the Field Service
in January, 1917; served with Section Twelve until July. For his book.
Ambulance 464, see the Bibliography in vol. in.

Ill

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

In September, 191 7, and in October, 191 7, the enlisting officers
of the American Army visited the Section at Vaux Varennes
(north of Reims). About the 15th of October, the Section
moved en repos to Ablois Saint-Martin, near Epernay, where
Chef R. Coan was commissioned a First Lieutenant. November
13 found us for the second time at Vaux Varennes with no more
war for our delight than had formerly been the case. In early
December, Chef Coan was called to Paris to be replaced by
Lieutenant Fisher, who previously had had charge of the train-
ing school at May-en-Multien. My diary depicts great disgust
of the Section at the introduction of American Army rules and
regulations. The banishment of trunks, the adoption of the ill-
fitting American uniform, combined with the cold winter of
suffering, did not permit us to remain long in a good frame of
mind. There was very little work in the sector.

On February 4, Lieutenant Fisher was replaced by Lieu-
tenant Rogers. In the latter part of February, we moved to
Prouilly for repos again, but on March 7, we left to return
to Saint-Martin for the ultimate purpose of changing our divi-
sion and receiving a new allotment of cars. On March 13
and 14 the change of cars was completed.

On March 27, we received orders to leave Saint-Martin im-
mediately and go to Meaux. The 5th Army divisions were being
rushed north to aid in repulsing the big German drive on the
Somme. We left Saint-Martin at six in the evening, ran an all-
night convoy through Montmirail and La Ferte. Our first stop
was early the next morning in Saint-Jean-les-deux-Jumeaux,
outside Meaux by a few kilometres. At seven that night we
received orders to proceed to Pont Sainte-Maxence, departing
at once. During this convoy through Meaux, Senlis, and on
to Pont Sainte-Maxence we began to get a glimpse of condi-
tions in a big retreat. On Easter evening we left Pont Sainte-
Maxence for an eighty-kilometre drive to Crevecoeur-le-
Grand, north of Beauvais.

While waiting for further orders we cantoned in Marseille-
le-Petit, and on April 4 orders came to go to Essertaux, about
midway between Amiens and Breteuil. In the sector we had
rather difficult work, all of us being kept busy continually. The
Medecin Divisionnaire of the 127th rewarded us by ** Une Cita-

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Hon d, rOrdre du Jourr On April ii, we came again to Mar-
seille-le-Petit for an indefinite stay, not being attached to one
particular division, but serving with any which needed our aid.
On April 23, orders came to move to Rumigny to aid in the de-
fensive in the Bois de Hangard. Upon arrival in Rumigny, we
were posted to Dury, thence to the Asile d'Alienes, outside
Amiens. Nothing can better describe the affair of Amiens than
what I wrote on the spot. ^ „ ,

"April 24. Berteaucourt and Domart. Called out on service
in the early morning and reported at the G.B.D of the ijr
D.I. to assist S.S.U. 575 m their work. Little idea couW we
have had of the tremendous work we were going to do. height
cars were wrecked in the attack. At Domart yesterday morn-
ing, Charles Livermore was instantly killed, while going from
the a&n to prepare for a trip. The 140^ D.I. called on us for aid
to-day, necessitating five cars on service near ViUers-Breton-

neux "

On May 4, we are back again in Marseille-le-Petit sobered
bv the tragedy through which we have just come. We leave to-
morrow for the front, and henceforth we are to be attached to

^ OnVay q, we relieved English Section 10 at Cannes, a little
village directly in front of Montdidier. Here we had excellent
accommodations, but work was continuous. The First Division
(American) was on our immediate left. , , x • ^ ^

In July, Lieutenant Rogers was replaced by Lieutenant
H G Ford. In early August, a consciousness that something
important was about to happen in our sector came over us,
causing us all to prepare for any eventualities.

On August 10, we were the first American military organiza-
tion to enter the city of Montdidier after the German occupa-
tion. August II found us in Faverolles, on the eastern side ot
Montdidier, with our outposts at Laboissiere, Fescamps, and
stone quarries indiscriminately scattered about the country-
side. Our stay in this locality was featured by heavy, consistent
work, and by annoyance from the retreating enemy, who tried
to make the way as difficult as possible for the advancing Al-
lies. On August 30, we were in Fignieres for a day, and then
moved back to the city of Montdidier for a repos. However, we
did not stay there long, for on September 7, we arrived in La-
boissiere once again. Later, we moved to Avricourt, thus keep-
ing up as rapidly as possible with the advance. Avricourt was
situated midway on the Grand Route between Roye-sur-Avre
and Noyon. While here, we worked outposts at Beaulieu-les.
Fontaines and the Canal du Nord. Early on the morning of the

SECTION TWELVE

8th of September, we entered Fretoy-Ie-Chateau, on the east-
ern side of the Canal du Nord, having to cross the field and
cross the canal almost in its bed. Pastes were changing continu-
ally, and to a man the Section was busy working irrespective of
time, food, or weather.

Soon after arriving in Avricourt, we moved our cantonment
to Fretoy-le-Chateau, to stay one night or so, then moving on
to Villeselve. While at these places, our regiments captured
Nesle, Ham, and Guiscard. From Villeselve we quickly moved
to Cugny, not far from the Canal Crozart, whence we could
see Saint-Quentin. Here we discovered one of the emplace-
ments of the " Gros Berthas " which did the long-distance firing.

Cugny remained our cantonment for a much longer time
than we really had expected. Outposts were advancing rapidly
by demi-kiiometres until we were well up to the Hindenburg
line. Following Cugny the Section had a rapid succession of
cantonments, at Montescourt, Essigny-le-Grand, and Marcy,
beyond Saint-Quentin on the main road to Guise. Here, after
our gallant 60^ D.I. had crossed the Oise and had maintained
their positions there, we were relieved to be sent to the Vosges
for a rest.

Not long after our arrival in Saint-Die came news of the
Armistice. Orders were immediately forthcoming for us to
move into Alsace, which we did about the 15th and 17th of No-
vember. Though this convoy was of not a long distance, it took
us several days to accomplish it, due to the technicalities of the
German withdrawal from Alsatian soil. Passing through Pro-
vencheres and Saales, we made our first stop at Ville (Veiler).
From there we went to Barr the next day, and two days follow-
ing our arrival in Barr, on to Erstein-Schaeffersheim, twenty
kilometres south of Strasbourg.

In the post-Armistice months the length and breadth of Al-
sace was ours to re-discover, of which opportunity we eagerly
availed ourselves. December, January, and February passed
for us in the rural community of Schaeffersheim. February
brought vague rumors of going home, and finally we began our
last trip. Early one morning, the 28th of February, we left
Strasbourg for Paris by way of Saverne, Sarrebourg, Avri-
court, Luneville, Saint-Nicolas-du-Port, Nancy, Toul, Void,
Ligny-en-Barrois, Saint-Dizier, Vitry-le-Frangois, Chalons-
sur-Marne, £pernay, La Ferte, and Meaux.

Ralph N. Barrett V

1 Of Boston, Massachusetts; Dartmouth, '18; entered the Field Service
in July, 1917; served with Section Twelve and later in the U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service.

Section Thirteen

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Benjamin F. Butler, Jr.
ll. John M. Grierson
III. Frank X. Laflamme

SUMMARY

Section Thirteen left Paris in March, 191 7, going first to the
Champagne, where it took part in the great French offensive
of April. In May the Section worked the poste at Mont Cornil-
let, where it received the first Army citation given to any
Field Service Section. In June it moved to Sainte-Menehould,
thence to Verdun. It was working on the right bank of the
Meuse when taken over by the American Army, becoming
Section Six-Thirty-One.

=^'"-^+*-tt^u^

^\:^i

Section Thirteen

Though desolation stain their foiled advance,
In ashen ruins hearth-stones linger whole; (

Do what they may they cannot master France,
Do what they can, they cannot quell the soul.

Barrett Wendell

Sixty Hours from Boulevards to Wounded

Section Tpiirteen left Paris on March 4, 1917, twenty
strong, each man In his car, with Bertwal C. Read, for-
merly of Section Eight, as our Chef. Two days later, we
arrived at Chalons and pulled up in the square. Leaving
our cars at one of the regimental parks, we hurried to a
hot dinner arranged for us by our French Lieutenant,
Pierre Emmanuel Rodocanachi, at the Hotel de la Haute-
Mere Dieu. It was a godsend to cold and uncomfort-
able novices at ambulancing such as we were, and our
spirits soared, when, in addition, it was announced that
we were attached to the 169th Division of the French
Army, which would leave the next day for the front. This,
in fact, happened, and we reached Sainte-Menehould
at about six o'clock, where we learned that our billet was
in a small town called Maffrecourt, about ten kilometres

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

distant, to which we continued. Here for the first time
the members of the Section heard the guns at the front.
No sooner had we arrived than a call came in, and Sidney
Colford, with a hrancardier, went up to answer it. Thus,
some sixty hours after leaving rue Raynouard, we carried
our first blesses.

In the Champagne — Mont Cornillet — Villers-

Marmery

Our sojourn at Maffrecourt, while not really a busy one,
taught us the ropes. We had practice in driving at night
without lights and we became acquainted with the meth-
ods of the French Army. One day in April our Division
was moved. Twelve of our ambulances went up to our
next stop at I'Epine, and the remainder of the cars took
stations along the line of march to pick up men who
developed sore feet or other injuries.

Leaving I'Epine, our next cantonment was Champig-
neul, w^here we remained a week or longer, awaiting
orders and doing G.B.D. duty and a certain amount of
evacuation to Chalons. At last came the welcome news
that our Division was to move and take up what was to
be its final position in the grand spring offensive, at Mont
Cornillet. Our instructions were to have our cars in the
finest possible condition, since it was expected by the
general in command that there would be an opportunity
to evacuate blesses over the ground that had been held
by the Germans for such a long time. In fact, the Medecin
Chef asked us if our cars would be capable of travelling
over trenches and through ploughed fields. (He evidently
did not know the Ford.) Thereupon we moved to Villers-
Marmery where we were to be cantoned. It was the eve
of General Nivelle's famous and disastrous attempt to
break through the German lines in Champagne.

In Villers-Marmery the streets were so congested with
troops and transport wagons that it was almost impossi-
ble to manoeuvre our cars. The first night there we parked
our machines along a road next to what was to be our

SECTION THIRTEEN

triage hospital, though our duties were not to begin for
two more days. Sleeping-accommodations were of the
crudest, some of us bunking in cars, while others found
refuge in a leaky old barn recently evacuated by troops,
but not by all forms of life. The fellows in the cars had
the best time of it, as there was a cloud-burst that first
night and the barn was very wet.

Dawn broke cold and damp. We spent the day arrang-
ing our permanent cantonment, which was in an old
rooming-house on the outskirts of the town, and used
before the war for employees of the champagne industry,
Villers-Marmery being one of the centres of wine manu-
facture. The second night proved to be even worse than
the first, and at about two o'clock in the morning the
English section which was serving this town found that
there were more blesses than they could handle and so
routed us out to aid them. We travelled over roads in the
inky blackness that none of us had ever traversed before.

Real Work

Our real work began the next day. We were to serve the
pastes of Thuizy, Prunay, Wez, and a dressing-station in
the third-line trenches that we called the "Boyau." All
of these pastes were under severe shell-fire, as were the
roads approaching them. In fact, the whole locality
looked unhealthy.

All of our runs were In the neighborhood of Thuizy,
which was a half-wrecked village, with French batteries
situated all around it and in it. The paste de secours, an
old chateau about the centre of the town, was really a
beautiful structure. Some of Its attractiveness, however,
was lost because of its situation in the midst of batteries,
which constantly drew the Boche fire. From Thuizy we
ran up to Wez, a town in the Immediate vicinity and even
more perilous, where the poste de secours was movable,
changing as it was blown up, which made It at times diffi-
cult to find.

Prunay was the prize of this trio of pastes . It could be

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approached over a stretch of a kilometre and a half that
had once been a road, but at that time was a series of
interlocking shell-holes which changed in contour from
day to day. When we got a call to this place, we went as
far as the outskirts of Wez, stopped our cars, and, peering
around a wall, would decide on our next step — for at
times it would have been impossible to make the run and
escape alive. In such a case, the conducteur would sit
down behind what cover he could find and wait. At other
times, one could go right through. The poste itself was a
dugout.

The " Boyau " was approached by a road that ran out
from Thuizy for about three kilometres to a cross-road ar-
tillery observation post, called the "Pyramides," where,
turning to the left for a distance of a kilometre and a
quarter, it crossed two lines of old trenches and ended at
a sap, fed from the third-line trench. Here was the dress-
ing station. There was no cover for our cars, which were in
sight of the Boches, who, however, never shelled us here,
except on one or two occasions w^hen the amhiilanciers got
too careless in wandering around the neighborhood, when
there would be eventually a grand hegira for cover. In
order not to risk losing all the cars by one unlucky shell,
we made three groups of the seven cars assigned to the
Boyau. The first of these groups consisted of three cars,
parked on the outskirts of Thuizy ; the second, of two cars,
hidden in a belt of woods just before one reached the
cross-roads; while the third consisted of two cars at the
Boyau. It may be added, in passing, that at these pastes
five of our cars were actually hit.

Narrow Escapes

There were, of course, a number of times when we had
narrow escapes. One of the most spectacular of these
occurred on the road from Thuizy to the Pyramides. One
afternoon we, at the second poste, hearing arrives in the
direction of Thuizy, looked down the road and saw one of
our ambulances coming up as fast as it could go. This

SECTION THIRTEEN

stretch of road was very exposed, but up to that time
the Boches had not shelled ambulances at this point.
However, from the spectacle that greeted our eyes, it
was evident that they had begun, for on both sides and
behind the flying car were rising fountains of earth and
smoke, approaching closer and closer to the speeding
vehicle. Never was a car more anxious to be elsewhere.
The scene was nearly as exciting for us as for the driver.
It came closer and closer, until we could recognize the
machine as that driven by Hines. We knew that if he
could make the belt of trees where we were standing, he
would be comparatively safe; but could he do it? When
he was only about five hundred yards from safety and
we were just congratulating ourselves and him on his
escape, the car was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of
smoke. It seemed certain that he had been hit, and a
Frenchman standing with us exclaimed: ''Fhii — v%ort
pour la France.'' We were on the point of starting out to
bring him in, when to our astonishment we saw the
radiator and front wheels of the Ford come bounding
through the swirling dust and smoke of the explosion,
and a minute later Hines was with us.

The Champagne Attack, 191 7 — Evacuations

It was about the end of April that we saw the first seg-
ment of the French troops going up to open the great
offensive in the Mont Cornillet sector of Champagne.
These regiments were the flower of the attacking troops.
They had been freshly recruited, equipped, and trained
for this event which was to mean so much to France.
Never had we seen men more fit or more ready for the
work that was before them. Here was the situation: the
Boches had retreated to this point after the Battle of the
Marne, and for two and a half years had been entrench-
ing themselves there. The objective was to dislodge them
from these formidable positions and take the command-
ing hills, Mont Cornillet, Mont Haut, Mont Blanc, and
the Casque. This would mean an advance of from three

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to seven kilometres over a terrain that seemed insuper-
able, as it had proved in former attacks. The particular
objective assigned to the troops with which we were con-
nected was the occupation of the far slope of Mont Cor-
nillet, made more difficult by the fact that the crest was
raked by an enfilading fire of hundreds of heavy guns.

Three days later, at two o'clock in the afternoon, the
attack commenced, and by midnight the wounded began
to arrive, at first in driblets, then more and more numer-
ous. The next morning at eleven we received a message
asking if we could spare five cars to the triage hospital at
Pont dTssu. This poste was served by a section of French
ambulances, but there were more wounded than they
could take care of. So five of us were assigned to this duty,
which, on account of weather and road conditions, it was
not easy to perform, for the route over which we were
to transport our blesses was for the first three kilometres
a sunken road running along a canal, and in a terrible
condition, due to the heavy traffic of the past week and
the constant rains. It was necessary to use low speed for
this entire distance, and, even then, run as slowly as
possible, to get your men through alive. The remaining
seven kilometres were macadamized, and, with the usual
bumps, choked day and night with three lines of caw/oTZ^,
caissons, troops and all the other paraphernalia of war.

Terrible Hospital Conditions — Rain

The hospital itself beggared description. Rain had com-
menced to fall again and was drenching the wounded for
whom there was no place in the three long buildings that
constituted the hospital proper. Inside, the stretchers
were laid so close that no inch was left uncovered, and it
seemed hopeless for the doctors to try and do anything;
they w^ere simply swamped, while outside was still a long
line of horse and motor ambulances waiting to be un-
loaded and then return to their pastes de secours for more
wounded. In front of one of the buildings was a group of
a hundred or so suffering men, some standing, and others

■SI

■A

J?;

SECTION THIRTEEN

sprawled In the mud and water, poor fellows who had
dragged themselves for five miles, some using their guns
as crutches, others leaning for support on less severely
wounded comrades. These men bore wounds of every
kind, and, under normal conditions, many of them would
have been stretcher cases. But on account of the conges-
tion, every one who could stagger along had been forced
to walk, and some of them had been waiting since the
night before to be transported to the evacuation hospital,
while m.ore and more came hobbling in every moment.
It was hard for us to believe that these shattered wrecks
of humanity were the same men who had joked and
laughed with us as they marched by a few hours before.

We set to work and toiled the rest of that day, that
night, and the next day; but still the wounded came in,
and it did not seem that we were making any impression
on the mass. No one stopped for food in all this time. The
doctors worked like machines, their eyes sunk in their
heads, and they went about their task as if in a dream.
As for us, it was just back and forth over those same ten
kilometres. When loaded, we had for company the moans
and screams of the poor soldiers behind us. Every un-
avoidable bump and depression on that terrible road
wrung from their shattered bodies fresh agony, until it
seemed that they could bear no more; and in fact, many
of them did not, for too often, at the end of the run, one
or more of the occupants of our cars had been released
from his suffering by death.

As the second day drew to a close, the flood of wounded
from the front diminished, fortunately, to a marked
degree. But the triage itself was even more congested than
when we first arrived. At about eight that evening, I
stopped at the hospital long enough to snatch a bit of
bread and meat. This was the first let-up that I had had,
but there was no rest, with the appealing eyes of the
occupants of that horror house fixed beseechingly on you,
asking, as no words could, for the relief that we alone
could give them. All that night our reeking cars continued

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their trips. It was always the same thing — before your
eyes stood the picture of those men waiting as they had
been waiting for a day or more, and we able only to take a
certain number and make comparatively few trips because
of the need of gentleness. How we raced our cars back !

The Last Day of Attack

I SHALL never forget the dawn of the last day. Looking
off toward the front, I could see the last star-shell curving
up from the trenches, which meant the attack was still
going on ; that the important thing was the taking of the
hill, that which I had been doing was nothing more than
cleaning up the units which were out of it, and that this
horrible suffering which I had seen was just a local,
little thing, which had all been arranged for and would
have no ultimate effect on the success or failure of the
fight. It must require a certain hardness of heart, on the
part of the Commanding General, to see all this and still
continue to throw more and more men into the vortex of
this hell from which these poor wounded ones had been
spewed. And while my thoughts ran on thus, the guns
continued to rumble, the ammunition went up to create
more of the same havoc on the other side, lines of Boche
prisoners under guard passed by, fresh troops went up
along the road on the way to take the place of the men
whom we had been bringing down, and still the mad
attack continued. You could almost see the men throwing
themselves against those concrete machine-gun defences
that had not been shattered. That day the hill w^as taken,
but at what cost !

Shelling Villers-Marmery

I GO back a little chronologically to relate the following
incident, which differs from most others in that it records
my first witnessing of the wounding of soldiers. Of course,
scenes like this have no great importance in themselves,
yet remain in the memory because of a touch more
personal than that of more stupendous events.

SECTION THIRTEEN

It was an April night in 191 7. Section Thirteen was
cantoned at Yillers-Marmery, fronting Mont Cornillet in
the Champagne, where it was our task to evacuate the
triage hospital, located in an old winery, in sight of the
Boches. We had ten cars on duty, and they were kept
fairly busy because of the wounded from the attack of the
night before. As evening came on, more and more wounded
were brought in. There had been no shelling of the town
during the day, but for the past three nights the Boches
had been firing at it about twenty rounds regularly at
two o'clock in the morning. As dusk fell on this particu-
lar day, we were wondering whether the performance
would be repeated, which we thought would be the case,
as these shameful brigands seemed to have an affinity
for the neighborhood of the hospital. I "rolled" at ten
o'clock with three couches for La Veuve, our evacuation
hospital. After leaving my blesses, I returned by way of
our cantonment, and just as the engine stopped, I heard
the first shell of the evening, which fell among the graves
of the cemetery some twenty-five metres from the main
entrance to the hospital, and directly behind me. I knew
this because a gravestone went over my head.

The hospital presented much the same appearance as
when I had left, except that the blesses who were not to
be immediately removed had been placed in the cellar.
The receiving-ward offered a quiet appearance, compared
with the bedlam that was raging outside. The doctors,
as is usual in the French army, when there is much to
be done, were doing their duty with coolness and despatch,
without regard to the fact that every minute might be
their last. A tall, dark-bearded priest was accompanying
the doctors. The French priests and Protestant ministers
connected with the army take all risks and bring enor-
mous comfort to the soldiers. They seem to feel that the
power they represent protects them so that they need
have no fear in ministering to the sufferings of the men.
The blesses on the stretchers, on this occasion, were quiet,
and there was little talking, so that one could hear the

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whistle of the arriving shell, followed by the detonation,
louder or fainter according to its proximity.

While I was reporting to the Medecin Chef, there came
a reverberating crash that fairly made the building shake.
For a moment we thought that the hospital had been
struck, but a man came in and reported that the shell
had fallen across the street from the hospital in a court-
yard where some men were sleeping. Four of us seized
brancards and dashed over to find that the shell had
pierced the wall of the court, bursting on the inside,
where two men had been sleeping under the protection
of the wall at this place, both of whom were severely
wounded. In placing one of them on a stretcher, one of
his legs came off in our hands, and, in the excitement of
the moment, some one put the leg back, with the foot
next to his head. I shall never forget the gruesome picture
which that stretcher presented when we set it down under
the electric light of the operating-room. This poor chap,
I may add, died before they could operate on him, while
the other, though badly shot up, was evacuated success-
fully.

Benjamin F. Butler, Jr.^

^ Of New York City; New Mexico State College, 'i6; served as driver
and Sous-Chef of Section Thirteen from March, 1917; later a Sergeant in
the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Writing in a Dugout

Minaucourt, March ii, 1917
We are on duty here for twenty-four hours, ending to-
morrow at noon. I am writing this in our dugout by the
light of an acetylene lamp on a very dirty table in the
midst of some French doctors and stretcher-bearers. The
dugout is in the side of a valley a kilometre or two back
of the lines, that side of the valley toward H.M. the
enemy. On the other side, just opposite us, is a French
battery which is being shelled occasionally, so that the
Boche shells pass whining over us, not very far overhead,
as we are nearly at the top of our side of the hill.

Later
I AM writing in the front of my car, as the concussion of
the French guns opposite, which are coming back a bit
now, kept putting out the lamp inside. Our cars, four of
them, are lined up in front of the dugout. There was once
a village on this spot, but the houses are now all torn to
bits, with great jagged holes in the walls and gaping roofs.
Opposite is the church, or rather what is left of it. One
side is torn away, the steeple hangs over to one side,
every window is smashed, and altogether it is a very
pathetic sight.

A Coup de Main — A Night Call

March 12
We slept last night, the four of us, on stretchers in the
dugout, which could n't have held another object, except
perhaps a little more smoke up near the roof. I was first
on call, and in the midst of a delightful snooze, I heard
the telephone bell tinkle faintly. One can sleep perfectly
well with a battery of howitzers working overtime out-

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side, but at the sound of a knock on the door, or the tele-
phone bell you come to life at once. Hearing the words
voiture and blesse settled the matter, and I began putting
on clothes and was ready when the sentry came back
and said, "// faut une voiture a Promentoire (our advance
paste) — deux assis, un couched He also told me to
look out, as there had been some sort of raid, a coup de
main, and that the Boches were liable to be shelling a bit.
I was rather excited by this time, as the sentry looked
quite worried, due, I suppose, to thinking of the three
men whose lives were to be entrusted for the next half-
hour to a young and unknown stranger driving a Ford
ambulance over a doubtful road at 2 a.m., without
lights.

It was bitter cold, and absolutely quiet when I pulled
up to the poste, which was about a kilometre away. After
turning around, we loaded the couche, and the two assis
climbed painfully aboard, the stretcher-bearers bolted
inside, while I closed up the back of the car, and we
started off. There was no trouble at all, as there was a
brilliant moon ; but the worst part was finding the speed
to drive at, as my couche was in quite a bad way and let
it be known at each bump by groaning or knocking im-
ploringly on the wood behind me, which — I not being
at all calloused yet — made me feel very ashamed of
myself. I reached the hospital all right and had the car
unloaded. But I did n't dare to look my couche in the
face ; and started back after a cup of hot tea with some
rum in it.

But coming back was quite different. It had clouded
up, and it was a lot harder to see the road, which for the
last three or four kilometres ran among and in front of a
lot of batteries. I was abreast of one of them when sud-
denly there was a flash of fire, followed by a terrific crash
on the side of the road to my left, which left me abso-
lutely paralyzed, but still clutching the steering-wheel
and going forward a lot faster than I should have been.
Of course, I did n't know what it was, but supposed it to

SECTION THIRTEEN

be a German shell aimed at the car, and wondered where
the next one was going to hit. Then there were more
flashes and explosions all around, and I realized that it
was our guns opening up a barrage. It was very wonder-
ful, indeed. The lines were a continual glare of light from
hovering star-shells and rockets — red and green ones as
signals of some kind : the most terrific noise I have ever
heard. Luckily I had nothing to pass on the road for the
rest of the trip. By the way, passing artillery transports
at night is one of the things that keeps you on edge, while
you grind by a long, jingling line of limbers, and pray,
between shouts of "^ droite,^' that your rear wheel may
not skid with a thud into the ditch three inches on your
left. And all this goes on in almost absolute darkness, if
there be no moon.

The Champagne and Repos

Villers-Marmery, May 8
We are now in a typically Champagne town, made of
ancient-looking stone and with very narrow and winding
streets. Last night I was standing at the top of one of the
main streets which looks toward the lines down between
the walls of the houses. As I was watching, a great red
glare sprang up along the trenches in front of me, com-
pletely putting in the shade all the constellations of star-
shells, rockets, flares, and so on, that make the trenches
so weird and the roads so impossible by night. The black
arms of a windmill were slowly turning around in the
foreground of the glare and, all about, our batteries were
rumbling and spitting their nightly barrage.

We seem now to have an attack every day, and are
working hard; quite different from our first little quiet
and serene sector at Maffrecourt.

Later
Found out that the red flame was caused by the explo-
sion of a munition dump.

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A Terrible Scene

The night of INIay 25 was our worst moment, and the
Section seems to have set a record for carrying the most
wounded in the shortest time. We "rolled" with fifteen
hundred of them In those twenty-four hours, over an
average trip of ten kilometres — Germans, Africans, and
Algerians, but mostly poilus. Two of our chaps, Thomp-
son and Cassady, were wounded. In the early morning,
our French Lieutenant, Pierre Rodocanachi, who through-
out the long night had personally directed the loading of
the cars, was struck by a large fragment of shell. Although
seriously wounded, he insisted on continuing his task un-
til the congestion of wounded was cleared, he being car-
ried to the hospital with the last load. His leg was so
seriously affected that it had to be amputated. About 4
A.M. when I rolled back to the poste, was the crowning
moment of the night's work. A shell had gone through
the roof of the dugout and exploded on the floor in the
midst of the doctors, stretcher-bearers, and a few blesses
waiting for a car. There was a regimental priest with
me whom I had picked up on the way, and we broke in
the door, blocked with debris. Pushing in, we were al-
most choked by the powder and smell of things burning.
The priest flashed a light, and by its uncertain glow we
could distinguish a terrible mess of wreckage and bodies.
Two or three poor chaps were conscious and were beg-
ging for help. It was the most horrible thing I have
ever seen. We got them out as best we could and laid
them beside the road, and then I took down two who
were still alive just as Brownlee Gauld, the chap who was
working the poste with me at the time, came up.

The Decoration — General Gouraud

June 26
Yesterday, four of us in the Section were publicly deco-
rated with the Croix de Guerre, for various deeds done in
the Moronvillers attack. The pinnlng-on was done by

SECTION THIRTEEN

General Gouraud, the hero of the Dardanelles. The, to
us, momentous event took place in a meadow about three
miles behind the lines, and we, together with some French
officers and soldiers to be decorated, stood within a hol-
low square formed by about fourteen hundred soldiers,
and with the French colors behind us. And there were
bands and prancing horses and the flashing swords of the
officers, and the fourteen hundred bayonets glinting and
glittering in the sun as the soldiers were put through the
manual of arms before the ceremony.

We four stood together in a row, and General Gouraud
decorated us one after the other, shaking hands and say-
ing a few words to each of us after he had pinned on the
medal. And while he was pinning it on, there was abso-
lute silence all over the place, every rifle presented and
each officer's sword at his chin. When the General had
ended his little speech to us, the band broke into a bar of
the ''Marseillaise,'' which was the most impressive mo-
ment of all. And then the veteran — he had only one
arm, one leg, and a padded chest, to say nothing of three
rows of medals on his breast — would pass on to the chap
next to you, leaving you struggling hard to keep looking
straight ahead and not down to see if "it" was really
there.

Chateaux and Duty

July 13

Men don't go down a road where they see shells landing
in order to admire a chateau at the other end, or to show
how smoothly their car rides, but if there is something
to be done at the end of that road, there has never been
a man in the Section who balked at his turn. The chap
that "wins the marbles" is he who can come in after a par-
ticularly bad day and night and take the trip of some-
body else who Is worse off than he is, though, when your
nerves are on the ragged edge, you don't feel physically
like taking on what is not absolutely necessary. And the
camaraderie is great, too. If after three days' rolling, there

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is a jam on the road, and somebody yells out to you, "For
God's sake, pull your wheel over," and asks, "Why in
the name of hell's bells don't you keep on your side of the
road?" you don't get mad, for you know c'est la guerre!
But the fellows who come in for the butt end of this sort
of language are the outriders on the artillery caissons who
rake off your lamps, and the fat cooks on the soup-
kitchens, who will not move over.

Croix de Guerre with Palm

The General Staff of the Fourth Army was evidently satis-
fied with Section Thirteen's little part in this great battle,
for they have awarded it an Army citation — not a Di-
visional or Corps citation, which would have been honor
enough, but a citation in the orders of the Army itself, en-
titling the section flag to a Croix de Guerre with palm.
It is the first such award that has ever been made to any
American ambulance section. The citation reads as follows :

4* A rmee

Etat-Major An G.Q.G. le 29 Jiiin, 1917

Bureau du Personnel

Ordre General N° g2Q

Le General Gouraud, Commandant la 4^ Armee, cite a I'Ordre
de I'Armee la Section Sanitaire Automobile Americaine No. 13:
"Sous les ordres du sous-lieutenant Rodocanachi, a assure
pendant I'offensive d'Avril et Mai, 191 7, le service des evacua-
tions dans un secteur frequemment bombarde. Les conduc-
teurs americains ont fait preuve de la plus grande endurance,
de courage, et de sang-froid, notamment le 25 Mai au cours de
la releve et du transport des blesses sous un bombardement

meurtrier."

Signe: Gouraud

John M. Grierson^

1 Of New York City; entered Field Service, February, 1917, serving
with Section Thirteen, and later as a First-Class Sergeant, U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service.

Ill

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

It was while we were attached to the Goth Division of French
Infantry that we were taken over, on September 17, 1917, by
the U.S. Army. This took place at Billy-le-Grand, in Cham-
pagne. The last of September, we moved to Jalons-les-Vignes,
in Champagne, and then to Belrupt, in the Verdun 'region,
with work at the Carriere d'Haudromont in October. We were
shortly detached from the 60th Division, and moved to Isson-
*;ourt. This took place in the first part of November.

On November 18 we moved to Conde-en-Barrois, where we
were attached to the 63d Division, and on December 4, moved
to the Verdun sector, near Cote 344 and Cote du Poivre. Our
pastes were at Vacherauville, Carriere des Anglais, Bras, and
La Fourche. On January 20 we moved back to Conde-en-Bar-
rois, and in the last days of January to Pierrefitte, near Saint-
Mihiel. During the first week in February we moved to Triau-
court, and on the 25th of that month to the Argonne, in the
sector of La Harazee and the Four de Paris. We were cantoned
in Sainte-Menehould for a few days, and later in Florent. In
March, we took a sector to our right, with pastes called "La
Chalade" and "Chardon."

On June 18 we moved to the Commercy sector, near Saint-
Mihiel, with the 34th Division. We relieved a French ambu-
lance section, which went to our old 63d Division. On August i ,
we went to Sorcy, near Commercy. It was during the middle of
August that we took a four-day convoy up to Amiens, and, with
the 34th Division took over the lines at Lihons and Rosieres-
en-Santerre during the Somme-Aisne offensive. We followed
the advance as far as Saint-Quentin. Then came repos for a
week near Amiens. We worked at the H.O.E. at Hatten-court
this week. A week later, in the first part of October, we moved
up to Saint-Quentin for the continuation of the Somme-Oise
offensive. We followed this as far as Guise, where we were when
the Armistice was declared. The Division left the lines, and
went under orders to Paris, and we followed the march, via
Mont d'Origny, Breteuil, Beauvais, Dieudonne, Montlignon,
and Clichy. On February 11 we were given orders to go to
Base Camp, e?i route for fiome.

Frank X. Laflamme ^

^ Of Manchester, New Hampshire ; New Hampshire State University;
joined Section Thirteen in June, 19 17; subsequently served in the U.S.
Army Ambulance Service with French Army during the war.

Section Fourteen

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Joseph H. Eastman
II. William J. Losh
III. Franklin B. Skeele

SUMMARY

Section Fourteen, a Leland Stanford University section,
sailed from New York as a complete unit on the 14th of Febru-
ary, 1 91 7, just after thebreaking-off of diplomatic relations with
Germany. It went immediately to the front, working in the
Verdun sector, then comparatively quiet. On April 15 it moved
to the Toul sector, in the region of Commercy. At length it
went en repos near Ligny-en-Barrois. On June 5 it journeyed
to the Champagne, near Mourmelon-le-Petit, in the Moronvil-
liers sector, where it remained until recruited into the United
States Army, as Section Six-Thirty-Two.

Section Fourteen

Oh, it is n't in words that we show it —

They're too feeble to tell what we feel;
It's down in our hearts that we know it,

It's down in our souls that it's real.
So we stick to our work as we find it.

And forget the caprices of Chance,
For we know that the price of the big sacrifice,

Is little enough — for France!

Robert A. Donaldson

On the Pacific Coast

Toward the close of 191 6, one hundred and fifty students
of Stanford University assembled and signified their will-
ingness to abandon the classroom for ambulance driving
on the Western Front. From these young men was se-
lected a group of twenty which became known as the
First Unit of Friends of France, and later as Section
Fourteen.

"Friends of France" is an association having a wide
membership in California and was founded to promote
cordial relations between the two Republics — "for Hu-
manity and the Humanities." To its generosity and
enthusiasm is due the success of the expedition and its

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

influence in awakening, on the Pacific Slope, interest in
the War.

On February 3, 191 7, at the Palace Hotel in San Fran-
cisco, the society gave a banquet and leave-taking to the
young men of the unit, each of whom was presented with
a brassard bearing the shield of the Society made by
Mrs. W. B. Bourn, of the Friends of France; and on the
following morning the students boarded their special car
bound for the east. On February 14 they sailed from New
York.

Section Fourteen was the first section of the Field Serv-
ice to come from the Pacific Coast, and in recognition of
this fact, which was significant of the extending interest
throughout the States in France and the war, the de-
parture of the Section from Paris was marked with con-
siderable ceremony. The farewell dinner at 21 rue Ray-
nouard on March 15, which, according to custom, marked
the leave-taking of sections for the front, was graced by
the presence of the American Ambassador to France,
Mr. William J. Sharp, and the former Ambassador of
France to the United States, M. Jules Cambon, both of
whom spoke eloquently of the growing rapprocheme?it of
the two Republics. Mr. Andrew, the Director of the Field
Service, presided, and speeches were also made by repre-
sentatives of the French Army and the officers of the
Section, pledging their best efforts to the common cause.
On the morning of March 16, the Section rolled out of
the lower gate of "21," with its convoy of twenty- four
new cars, bound for the front.

Quiet Times near Verdun and Toul

The Section first served at Montgrignon, carrying
wounded into Verdun two miles away, and spent long
hours in the captured German canal-boat waiting for the
nine or ten cases that were carried down the canal during
a shift. But after a time even the famed city of Verdun,
which was being given a rest for the moment, began to
lag in interest. So we were glad when, on the morning of

k^4«-.

^^^^BHE^s^i-^'^ 1

. -^^liii -• ■■- -

TYPICAL FIELD HOSPITAL — THIS AT CLAIRS-CHENES

DEPARTI'RE OF A SECTION FROM THE LOWER GATE OF
"RUE RAYNOUARD." SECTION FOURTEEN LEAVING FOR THE FRONT

SECTION FOURTEEN

April 14, orders came to pack, and by evening most of
the cars were loaded for travel.

The first stop was to put up for a few nights' lodging in
a leaking and rat-infested shed along the side of the avia-
tion hangars of Vadelaincourt, where some in the Section
first contracted the aeroplane germ. Another short stop
was made at Chardogne, near Bar-le-Duc, a hospitable
and never-to-be-forgotten village far, far behind the
world. Then we went on to the spacious quarters in the
college at Commercy. If Verdun was having a rest, Com-
mercy had declared peace!

With less effort than it takes to tell It, the Section was
able to serve pastes de secours along a twenty-kilometre
front, in addition to carrying the patients of six or seven
evacuation hospitals.

Artillery action could be seen from most of the pastes
at times, and at one of them it was, on occasions, even
the traditional thing to take to the shelter of ahris. Then
all will remember that excitable station-master who al-
w^ays made such a fuss over receiving "more cases than
the hospital train would hold"; the streets that became
cleared of terrified pedestrians when our cars appeared
on the scene; the uncomprehending professeiir of the
college; and the comrades at the different pastes — these
were the high-lights. Nor in this enumeration of the
memorable things of the region should we forget the
pastry-shop life, for there Commercy stands on its own
feet.

Repos at Ligny-en-Barrois

At length the French troops with whom we were associ-
ated had become well rested and were moved forward In
anticipation of entering a more active secteiir of the front,
and Section Fourteen took to the road at the same time.
It went first to Ligny-en-Barrois, where, under the shade
trees between the cathedral and the public school, our
cars were parked during several idle weeks of springtime.
Ligny Is a town of rare charm where at evening towns-

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

people and the girls from the war factories promenaded
about the square and along the paths through the forest
park, and beside the river and canal. It was here, too. In
the canal locks, that we fought out swimming and diving
titles. Ambiilanciers who had hitherto been listless toward
the language now took new heart, that they might com-
pete with the more studious, and likewise stand well in
the eyes of feminine LIgny. As we were housed In the
open near our ambulances, the boys often received callers,
swarms of gamins and gamines overrunning at recess the
cars that filled their playground, while the villagers at
the forenoon hour and the church-goers at the not Infre-
quent masses did the same.

On June 4, the Section had the signal honor of formally
receiving the first Stars and Stripes to fly In France with
the official sanction of the United States War Depart-
ment, a gift of the Friends of France and the Union
League of California, sent over to us by a special envoy,
Arthur Klmber,^ a fellow student at Stanford University.
Presentation ceremonies of a most impressive character
were held on a hilltop outside of LIgny in the presence of
two battalions and a regimental French band, and Colonel
Colon, in behalf of the armies of France, received the
colors and In turn presented them to Section Fourteen.

The Champagne — Mourmelon — Prosnes

The following day the Unit journeyed to Mourmelon-le-
Petlt, behind Moronvilliers in Champagne, to the right
of Reims, when brief survey of the district — ruined
Prosnes, the pastes de secours of Constantine and Moscou,
two kilometres from smoking Mont CornlUet — sufficed
to show us that the long-sought field of action was at
hand. A party of six cars, sent to learn the road, and lined
up In the open at Constantine in view of German observ^a-

1 Arthur Clifford Kimber, of Palo Alto, California; Leland Stanford, '18;
joined the Field Service in May, 1917, as a member of Section Fourteen;
where he remained until September; subsequently a First Lieutenant, U.S.
Aviation; killed in action near Sedan, September 26, 191 8.

SECTION FOURTEEN

tion balloons, drew the flattering attention of enemy
artillery. In a word, we were at the front this time. The
church corner at Prosnes, for example, was a place of evil
enough repute to appease the most sensation-craving
appetites. Some made a practice of skidding around it;
others killed their engines and had to re-crank; while at
least one managed it by whistling, or, if under pressure,
by singing. The trench side of the Constantine ahri was a
pit-seat to the spectacle of shells bursting along the hills
and in the surrounding fields. All in all there was a great
deal of tension in Prosnes, with its terrific noise, the
number and character of the wounded, and the condi-
tions imposed on road travel.

The exposure to danger, as well as the opportunity to
witness trench life first-hand, was perhaps the outstand-
ing benefit received by the members of the unit from
their work at this time. It gave us, too, a keener appreci-
ation of the burden carried by the French soldiers, pro-
moted respect for the men in the trenches, and altered
views regarding the war's obligations. When the Section
was nearing the time to retire en repos, and the first term
of service was about to be completed, eight members
accepted a call to join the second Stanford unit, then
leaving for the Balkans to become Section Ten. On the
Fourth of July, the Section was presented the Croix de
Guerre with Divisional citation, for the manner of its
work performed at Verdun and in the Moronvilliers

sector.

Joseph H. Eastman ^

1 Of Pleasanton, Cal.; Stanford, 'i8; served with Section Fourteen from
March to August, 1917; later became a First Lieutenant, U.S.A. Air Service.

A Gas and Fire Attack

Clorieux, March 25

We were very busy the other night, because of a gas
attack near by, and, most terrible of all, a liquid-lire
attack. We carried the wounded to the town through the
dark. My first entrance into the dressing-station was with
some of my blesses. On the rack on which they lift the
stretchers lay a liquid-fire victim — his face black and
charred like a cinder and the upper part of his body
scorched and cooked. He hardly murmured. The gas vic-
tims can scarcely move ; they cough and gasp and choke
in great pain.

Vadelaincourt, April 16

We are about twenty kilometres from Verdun, where is
the most famous aviation camp in France, in fact the
aviation base for the entire sector.

The Division has received orders to move; so we shall
have to move with it. All of our old friends, the brancar-
diers, go along, and it seems that they are going to be our
comrades for good. They are a mixed crew. Most of them
are ordinary poilus with good hearts; but the best of them
are well educated Catholic priests who make good chums
and are painstaking French instructors.

The Division moves on foot; so we run ahead and wait
a few days for them to catch up and go on again. This is
tiresome travelling, and as transients we get thrown into
almost any kind of quarters. At one town we were in a
long, black, barren, portable house, built entirely without
nails, which we shared half and half with a corps of French
wireless men. The floor was of earth, stones, and straw.
Last night, when all was quiet, a rat scout made a survey
of the room and then piped up the regiment. Hundreds
swarmed and swept, marched and counter-marched,

SECTION FOURTEEN

squeaking and fighting, all over the place for the whole
night. Anticipating as much, I had put shoes, bags, and
everything out of reach on a wire, and so felt compara-
tively safe.

I am going to bed now. I never take off more than my
shoes and coat.

Mourmelon-le-Petit, June ii

Yesterday's ride of some one hundred kilometres was
very beautiful. A thunderstorm blew over early in the
morning, freshening the air and the colors of the fields,
and pleasing us by laying the dust. We ran through a
farming country where the regular patches of blooming
alfalfa were a glowing pink, setting off the russet of
newly ploughed ground and the silvery green of the grain.
And such wild flowers! It is time for California to shut up
and hand the china teapot to France. The principal
flower is the scarlet poppy, with four broad petals of
crinkly thinness, forming a very wide cup. Never was
there flower more beautiful, and it abounds everywhere.
Then there are lupins, buttercups, larkspurs, yellow flags,
purple flags, lilies-of-the-valley, and a million others. The
trees are all cottonwood and willow except the artificial
pine forests. These forests, by the way, are of the greatest
military importance, for they screen everything.

A Death Call

July, 19 17

It got dark about ten o'clock. About eleven an ofiicer
drove up on his horse behind my car and told me that he
had a hlesse whom his convoy had picked up on the road
between our reserve poste and the poste de secoiirs. He
confided to me that the road was being steadily shelled
between the two pastes and that this man and his comrade
had been hit by a shell. His comrade was blown in two.
So I piled out with my stretcher and gave it to the artil-
leryman, who put the wounded soldier on it and set
him down behind the ambulance. One said he was dead,

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

but there was a difference of opinion on this point.
I lit my briquet and in the flickering light we gathered
around the stretcher, watching the man shudder and die
without a sound. "// est mort,'' the officer said, "allons.''
And with that they went, leaving me, alone with a shell-
torn man, dead but still warm, to gaze at the bloody mass,
in the red, flickering light. His right arm was blown off
at the elbow, the rest hanging in shreds. His head was
riddled with splinters, and there was a hole an inch square
in his cheek. Around his body were countless holes and
his shirt was bloody and red. I woke up one of the fellows,
and we loaded him into the ambulance and carried him
to the hospital. It was not exactly the thing to do, but I
was n't going to leave him on a stretcher all night by the
roadside ; so I took him to the hospital and let the authori-
ties there dispose of the body.

As soon as I got back to the poste de reserve, the first
car came back; covered with earth and full of holes.
Randau left it in front of the poste — there is no shelter
for cars — when a shell fell ten feet away. He was in an
abri, but was n't a lot safer, for a " 77 " fell ten feet away
from where he was resting and threw earth in the door.
He also reported bombardment of the little tow^n halfway
to the poste. Anyway, it was up to me to see if there were
not something to be done in that place, so I cranked up
and buzzed down the road, somewhat shaky from seeing
the evidence of the deadly bombardment before me.
"Toad" Strong was with me. We are now running two to
a car for moral support. As we stopped at a rise, we looked
at the little town below and across the plain to the poste.
The hills were illuminated by star-shells over the trenches
and by artillery rockets, while across the plain came the
sharp, wicked snaps of shrapnel in the air around the
poste, and in the town the heavy flash of high-explosives.

"Qu'yFaire?"

The psychology of judgment at such a moment is inter-
esting. There is an object to be attained — reaching the

SECTION FOURTEEN

paste. There is shelling of a town below, a shell arriving
every fifteen seconds with an interval of a minute now
and then. There is shrapnel around the object. The judg-
ment to be reached is the most advantageous manner of
reaching the poste without being hit. One does n't know
whether to take it slowly and wait for an interval to be
apparent or to tear through and trust to luck. On the
return trip from the poste, the question is more compli-
cated. If you go slowly, you are liable to be clipped from
behind by shrapnel; and if you hurry, you are liable to
reach the town at the same time that a shell does.

Anyhow, we went at a rush and got through the town
without mishap, although a shell hit behind us just ojff
the road. Then we faced the shrapnel. We waited this
out, and halfway between, at a suitable moment, we tore
up to the poste, backed up in a second, and beat it for the
shelter. Immediately after, two shells fell twenty yards
away, but without hitting the car.

Rolled up then in a blanket to sleep; but half an hour
later an urgent case arrived. He had his nose, half his
cheeks, his upper lip and teeth, and half his chin shot
away. I expect he died. While bringing him in, two
"150's" exploded thirty yards to our left in the town,
throwing earth and rocks and the smell of powder across
the road. We were glad to get out alive. This was at 3 a.m.

Such was the night. I did not really feel the effects of
it all until after I came ofi, when I had a ner\-ous depres-
sion corresponding to the excitement of the night before.
The Lieutenant told us we looked ten years older, and I
guess we did, for I felt so. Words cannot really express
the nerv^ous excitement of a night like that, mixed up
with death and duty and the agony of life.

William J. Losh^

* Of San Francisco; served with Section Fourteen until June, 1917,
when he joined Section Ten in the Orient; the above are extracts from
letters.

Ill

The Suffering and Bravery of the Poilu

September, 191 7
It seems as though every time I go on duty new experi-
ences increase my hatred of the hell of war. I cannot tell
you all of them, the censor would object; but I do wish
there was some way of telling you just how stoical to
suffering the French poilu is. This is an impression that
grows on me, with every wounded man that I carry. One
has to become accustomed to so many heart-tearing
scenes. The sight of blood-soaked bandages is frequent;
but to see a young fellow with blood matted between a
week's growth of whiskers and perhaps partly covered
with mud ; to see a pair of sky-blue eyes peering out from
the paleness of intense suffering, and perhaps to hear him
talk of home in his delirium, are things one can never
become accustomed to. Strange as it may seem, I have
never seen a wounded Frenchman who was unconscious
no matter what the pain. I had one soldier whose leg had
been broken below the knee by a piece of shell, and in
some way his foot had got turned partly around. How
the poor boy kept from groaning, I never knew. But what
was more, he partly sat up in his stretcher and asked one
of the carriers to turn the foot slowly back again. Cau-
tiously and gently his comrade worked, until the suffer-
ing poilu said, "There," as he lay back on the pillowless
stretcher. Your imagination can never paint the picture;
you must see and experience the bravery of wounded
France to realize her spirit. Boys of eighteen, men of
forty, all give their lives and suffer for ideals that mean
more to them than life. And then comes our part — to get
the wounded poilu quickly to the hospital and to the skil-
ful surgeon, for time means life. And yet one must drive
carefully, for every jar means agony.

AMBULANCE PAlSfEL OF THE FIRST LELAND STAN-
FORD SECTION, SHOWING THE EMBLEM OF THE
"FRIENDS OF FRANCE" SOCIETY OF CALIFORNIA

SECTION FOURTEEN

Comrades in Song

A RECENT experience when we went back of the lines for
a rest may interest. Every one was scolding, crabbing,
condemnir.g the management for having picked out such
a place for our sojourn, when a huge rat ran across the
floor, which did not tend to lessen our discontent. The
blame thing was as big as a rabbit. I suppose he ran so
fast because of dissatisfaction at our having disturbed
him in his retreat. Finally, out of the storm came a voice
at the door announcing supper. So twenty- two grumbling
tired men scuffled down the stairs, out past the front
yard with its odors, to the cafe, which the manager loaned
to us until we could get better settled.

Now comes the psychological part of the whole thing.
We filled over half of the big room, while Frenchmen, the
stretcher-bearers, and hospital attendants, with whom
we had been working the past months and whom we had
learned to know through the suffering of others, occupied
half of the small room. Suddenly one of our men began
to sing — I think it was " I Wonder Who 's Kissing Her
Now?" — and, like a stimulant to a heart about to flut-
ter out, the singing began to blot out blues and grumbles
and growls. I '11 never forget, in all my life, what hap-
pened. Dinner was over by this time, and we sang a few
more songs. Then the old Frenchmen began. You cannot
understand the spirit until you see how a typical, edu-
cated Frenchman of university type, as most of these are
— how these men with their families awaiting their re-
turn, all entered into the spirit of the music with an enthu-
siasm such as I have never seen. They sang with their
eyes, with their hearts, with their bodies; there was no
restraint, no bashfulness. Even if some could not keep
time or pitch, it made no difference. Then one of our men
recited, sang a few songs with the sweetness of a McCor-
mack, and one of their men responded, while we joined in
on the chorus. "When Good Fellows Get Together " was
the most a propos song we sang. We cheered them, they

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

cheered us. It made absolutely no difference that we could
not understand the words to their songs ; nor could they
make out what we were singing. The spirit was there and
we felt it. Finally we ended with the "Star-Spangled
Banner," and they with the ''Marseillaise.'' And then
we came back to a parlor, which before had seemed a
rotten old garret because of our attitude of mind. Even
the rat was forgotten.

"Fere Noel" at the Front

Christmas, 19 17
One of the men said to me just before Christmas that he
thought it sounded like sarcasm for folks to wish us a
"Merry Christmas." He was basing his remark on our
surroundings at that time. The barracks were cold with
their damp ground floors. It was so cold, in fact, that I
found ice caked in my Ford commutator, and even my
fountain-pen ink became solid, though it was in my trunk.
Occasionally I wore my overcoat to bed, slept under
seven blankets, and for two weeks never took off my
clothes. However, my friend was wrong. We had a lively
time. As Christmas Day approached, every one got busy.
Some went for a tree, others helped the French cook pre-
pare the big meal, while still others were writing little
somethings and wrapping mysterious packages that
bulged peculiarly. When the men returned with the tree
in an ambulance and a load of holly from the woods, we
all began decorating the cafe, our dining-room at that
time, where the insides of tin boxes made good reflectors
for the candles.

An empty barrack near by served as a distributing-
room for old Santa Claus, who was one of the men with
his face covered with cotton for a beard and who height-
ened the effect by sprinkling snow over his jolly self.
The children of the village were there long before '' Pere
Noel" arrived. One little fellow proudly showed me a sou
some one had given him, his only gift, "because his
father was away fighting for the future along with thou-

SECTION FOURTEEN

sands of others." Each man of the Section had three toys
for distribution among the little ones, and limericks for
himself. The reckless drivers received toy ambulances.
One who had been ''over the top" on a visit had a toy
Croix de Guerre; while the old Major was given a toy
sword; and so on for sixty limericks and toys. We then
opened a box of candies sent to the Section, and then
those bright-eyed, happy children of France politely took
their chocolates and American gum, which at first they
did not know what to do with, with a gracious "iifem."
But the toys they knew well what to do with, for they had
seen days when such joys existed.

Then came the turkey dinner, backed by salad, cakes,
nuts, fruits, chestnut dressing, mashed potatoes, and
candy. Oh, how surely such things did make us forget the
discomforts of war! while college songs, yells, and toasts
helped make the air glow with the brilliancy of the holly
berries. Even Le Beck, the cook, was made to come in to
receive our cheers and thanks and be toasted.

Soon after the dinner came the show, for we had one,
and a good one, as the French army utilized men, who
before the war were actors, for vaudeville performances
to cheer up the poilus en repos. It is found here at the
front as necessary to care for the amusement of the men
as it is to provide good food for them. Accordingly, a
group of actors of our Division form a sort of stock com-
pany with several pieces in their repertoire. They have an
auto which furnishes electricity, and costumes are given
them. It so happened that these actors were quartered in
a near-by village and were glad to take part in our vaude-
ville. We even had their machine for making electricity.
Every man in the Section had some part to perform, while
the folk of our village, three hundred in number, were
the audience. We had tumbling stunts, comedy boxing
matches, several skits, minstrel scenes, etc. We had rented
a piano from some one in a neighboring city. Burnt corks
served to blacken the "coons," who had two German
grenades hanging on their belts. One of us actually did

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

a Salome dance dressed in a grass costume made from
bits of camouflage while mosquito netting draped "her"
extremities.

For seats we dragged in benches and covered them with
blankets which we use for wounded soldiers. Our ten acts
and the Frenchmen's two comedies lasted until 12.30
A.M. the next morning. But not a single person left the
"auditorium," although they could not understand much
of our English.

Thus my friend was wrong about it not being possible
to have a Merry Christmas out here, for we had a good
time ourselves as well as making it a merry day for others.

Franklin B. Skeele^

^ Of Los Angeles, Cal.; Stanford, '18; served in the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service. The pages given above are extracts from home letters.

■V* Y-~^t.-,. ^^,r

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

On September 19, 191 7, the Section was officially taken over
by the A.E.F. and given the number 632. We were cantoned in
Villers-Marmery at the time, serving in the Champagne dis-
trict in the sector of the Marquises Farm. Our pastes were Wez,
Prosnes, Maisonnette, La Cloche, and Cuisine.

From November 29 to January i, 1918, came our first repos,
near Chalons-sur-Marne. Chepy, Marson, and Jalons were vil-
lages in which we lived. During this repos the Section was cited
by the Division.

We were then assigned to the same front in the Champagne,
but in the adjoining sector of the Mounts. Constancelager,
Petite Haie, Bouleaux, Haie Claire, Prosnes, and Constantine
Farm, were the posies, and our base first La Plaine, then the
village of Sept-Saulx.

Allan H, Muhr was our first Lieutenant, Jefferson B.
Fletcher, of Columbia University, taking his place in Novem-
ber. About March, 1918, another Lieutenant, Elliott H. Lee,
from Princeton, took charge and was with us until le fi?i de la
guerre. Emile Baudouy was our French officer from the time of
the Section's formation, March i, 1917, until September, 1918.

We remained in the sector of the Mounts until June 30, 191 8,
when we headed toward the Marne with our Division, the
Eighth. Before the battle on the 15th we were quartered in
Pierry, Vinay, and then Le Breuil. Our postes during the battle
were Tincourt, (Euilly, Festigny, Saint-Martin, Chatillon,
Vandieres, Dormans, Damery, and Port-a-Binson.

After four days of heavy fighting, when we lost about eighty-
two per cent of our Division, we retired to Courcelles. The
ranks were soon refilled and August found us again on our way
to the Champagne, in the sector of the Mounts again, serving
postes at Prosnes, Sapiniere, Baconnes, Farman, Constantine
Farm, Bouleaux, and La Plaine. Mourmelon was the village of
our cantonment.

Then came the big advance, September 26, 191 8, when we
moved forward some no kilometres, from Mourmelon to
Charleville-Mezieres. Our line of advance, covering six weeks,
took us through Naurouy, Aussonce, Neuflize, Tagnon, Rethel,
to Charleville, which town was the Headquarters of the Ger-

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

man General Armies and where the former Kaiser and Crown
Prince lived for four years. Our pastes from here were Mezieres,
Saint-Laurent, Ville-sur-Lumes, Lumes, Prix, Nouzon, and
Romery.

The Section remained in Charleville from the day of its re-
capture on November lo to March 7, 1919. Then we headed
for home ma Paris and Base Camp.

Section Fiftee?!

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Clitus Jones
II. Keith Vosburg
III & IV. Jerome Preston

SUMMARY

Section Fifteen left Paris about April lo, 191 7, arriving a
little later at Dombasle, near Verdun. It had pastes opposite
Mcrt Homme and Cote 304, and there it remained until the end
of June, when it retired eti repos to Wassy far back of the lines.
In late July the Section returned to the Verdun sector, working
again in the region of Mort Homme, which the French success-
fully attacked on August 20. Its next move was early in Oc-
tober to the Champagne, where it worked in the region of the
Mounts. It was there that the Section was made a part of the
American Army as Section Six-Thirty-Three.

•e~^oc?Af/.

Section Fifteen

Spirit of France, immortal, hail to thee!
Symbol of hope throughout these darkened years
VVhen tyranny and might, on land and sea,
Bring pain and tears.

William C. Sanger, Jr.

The Front — A Most Auspicious Time

Section Fifteen left Paris for the front at a most aus-
picious time — it was the first section to go out after the
entrance of America into the war, and we were hailed as
soldiers and allies.

Just as winter was breaking, the Section arrived at
Dombasle-en-Argonne, and found quarters in that little
shell-smashed village, ten miles west of Verdun and just
behind Mort Homme and Hill 304, both world-famed for
the battles that raged ov6r their possession. Section One
of the Field Service was on the ground when we arrived,
and we took over its pastes de secours. We were attached
to the 32d Division of the French Army, with which we
remained during the whole of our history as a unit of the
Field Service; and, except for five weeks en repos, we
always operated in and around Dombasle.

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Although the Verdun sector was a comparatively quiet
front during the spring of 1917, the work was interesting
and somewhat dangerous, the advanced poste being at
Esnes. This little run from Montzeville to Esnes is well
known to every American section that ever worked in
the Verdun sector. Nearly the entire road was in view
of the German trenches at the foot of Mort Homme.
Many sections won their spurs on this road. On it James
Liddell, driving ambulance 530, was shelled forty-eight
hours after leaving Paris. On his first run to Esnes a
shell burst thirty feet away, while fragments from the ex-
plosion tore through the car, and an eclat cut the back of
his coat.

The spot where Liddell nearly met his fate was the
scene of many more escapes during the eleven weeks
that the Section operated there. It was christened
"Hell Corner," and the name has gone down in am-
bulance history. As a provider of thrills, "Hell Corner "
has had no peer.

RePOS — JUBECOURT — PREPARATION FOR ATTACK

Before the Section left Dombasle, it lost its first and
highly popular Chef, Henderson, who was sent to the
School at Meaux. His time with Section Fifteen was
brief, but he put into it much energy.

On June 28, the Section went eri repos at Wassy, in the
Department of the Haute-Marne, where we celebrated
the Fourth of July, and the French inhabitants made a
special effort to do honor to their new ally. The Section
acquitted itself well, after doing justice to a champagne
dinner, by winning a game of association football and
capturing most of the prizes offered at a field meet.

But the most important event of the stay at Wassy was
the coming of Lieutenant Fabre, who was to be in charge
of the Section, as it proved, as long as we remained mem-
bers of the Field Service. He became the main factor in
the success of the Section because of his energy and
cheeriness. He knew how to awaken activity when we

104

SECTION FIFTEEN

were tired of repos, and to cheer us when we were worn
out with work. Where there were dangers to be encoun-
tered, our French Lieutenant was the first man on the
scene.

August 2 saw the Section once more on the road back
to the front. After a series of stops at various towns, it
finally arrived, on August lo, at Jubecourt, where evacu-
ation work started. This was the same sector that we had
worked in before ; but it was no longer possible to live so
close to the lines as Dombasle, for since our departure
the Boches had advanced long-range guns, and villages
as far as twenty kilometres back were in danger. So our
old cantonment at Dombasle was deserted. Section Two
had moved out of it under a bombardment and no sec-
tion occupied it afterwards.

OSBORN AND RiCH WoUNDED

At Jubecourt we could see the preparations for the great
attack before Hill 304 and Mort Homme. Troops and
supplies moved up nightly. The far-famed Foreign Legion
was called upon, together with several other magnificent
divisions of France's best Colonial troops, to aid in the
effort. The sky was alive with aeroplanes, and the rumble
of cannon along the front was almost a continuous roar.
Our Division was expected to figure in the attack, and
we all knew what that would mean for us. So Osborn
our Chef, Lieutenant Fabre, Dominic Rich and Van Al-
styne, went out to investigate the prospective posle de
secours at La Claire. The trip resulted disastrously. At
La Claire a bombardment was in progress, and before the
men could make their way to cover, a shell exploded near
them. Osborn and Rich were wounded and Lieutenant
Fabre and Van Alstyne knocked down by the concussion,
but not wounded. Rich, with his right arm splintered,
and Osborn, with both legs struck, were hurt rather seri-
ously. Eventually the latter had to return to America.
Robert Paradise succeeded him as Chef, with Van Al-
styne as Soils- Chef .

105

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Rampont — Aiding in the Attack

On August 1 8 the Section moved to Rampont, in order
to be nearer the lines when the attack should take place.
At about this time, we learned, however, that our Divi-
sion would not participate and that we should doubtless
be doing evacuation work for some weeks. There was, of
course, a feeling of disappointment in the Section, until
the Lieutenant asked and received permission to assist
an English ambulance section during the coming battle.
The morning of the attack on Mort Homme, ten ambu-
lances were called out, and headed for Hill 232, where we
were to receive the wounded. Curtis and Dunn, driving
car 513, were the first to reach the poste and brought down
the first load. The Lieutenant followed close behind them
in another ambulance, then others arrived in rapid suc-
cession. From then until two o'clock it was "hurry down
and get back." The Lieutenant helped load each car as it
came up and slammed the door shut as it started down
the long stretch to the evacuation hospital eight miles
distant. Every car was running its best, and we entered
into good-natured rivalry with the English section to see
which could carry the most wounded.

By two o'clock all the wounded at the dressing-station
had been taken down, though a few were coming in all
the time. The Section remained on duty until live o'clock
when the day's work appeared to be finished.

Few of the men who were present at that attack will
ever forget it. The dust and smoke that covered the coun-
try in a murky haze, the ride like mad to the poste near
Mort Homme, with the guns blazing away on all sides,
the hundreds of German prisoners tramping back, and
the long rows of wounded at the poste, formed a picture so
vivid as to be unforgettable. It was a glorious victory for
the French, for where Dead Man's Hill and Hill 304
reared their shattered summits, the poilus had charged
to a depth of four kilometres along the whole sector and
had captured more than seven thousand prisoners.

106

"THE MORNIXU AFTER" A COLLISION ON THE KOAD

THE FAMOUS " POSTE DE SECOURS " AT ESNES NEAR MORT
HOMME IN THE VERDUN SECTOR

SECTION FIFTEEN

Jouy-en-Argonne — MoRT Homme

Our Division moved up on Mort Homme on August 25,
and the Section officially took over the poste de secours
on Hill 232. Then the cantonment was moved again, this
time to Jouy-en-Argonne, a village just over the hill
from our former home at Dombasle. The work there was
more consistently hard than any the Section had ever
had before, for besides the three cars of the poste de
secours, two or three others were needed for evacuation
work at the hospital of Claires-Chesnes.

As at Jouy, we lived in tents. Things were damp during
the rainy season which followed, and, to add to our
troubles, a Boche bombing escadrille took up its quarters
on the other side of the lines. Now, on every clear night,
hostile airplanes circled overhead, spraying the ground
with their machine guns, and dropping bombs. The fa-
mous hospital of Vadelaincourt was bombed and partially
burned on the night of August 20, the day of the great
attack, and twice again in September.

The Section just missed trouble at Rampont when the
site of the cantonment was bombed the night after we
had left for Jouy. It is supposed that the ambulances had
been sighted in daytime by an observation plane and that
the bombing-planes made their call the same night. In
any event one of the four bombs which were dropped fell
only a few feet from the spot which had been occupied
by our main tent with eighteen men in it.

On September 2^ the recruiting officer of the United
States Army Ambulance Service visited Section Fifteen,
and twenty-three of our thirty men enlisted in the Amer-
ican Army, whereupon Section Fifteen ceased to exist as a
Unit of the American Field Service.

Clitus Jones ^

^ Of Waco, Texas; University of Texas, '16; entered the Field Service,
February, 1917; served with Section Fifteen, and continued with the Section
when it became part of the U.S.A. Ambulance Service in France.

Making Merry en Repos

En Repos, Wassy, July 5, 1917
Our twenty ambulances are lined up in the public square
of a delightful little town, and each one is completely
cleaned and slicked up with oiled rags till they all look
like new. One man stays here en reserve in case of accidents
or sick-calls, while the rest of us swim, play ball, walk,
and generally enjoy ourselves, for we are here en repos.
I have been promoted to Sous-Chef of the Section and
now have the privilege of "swanking" about the town
with a silver grenade, instead of a red, on my collar, and
a stripe on my sleeve. We have most excellent quarters
in a small Louis XIV chateau. When we arrived, how-
ever, we were billeted in a former dance-hall. But one
day, while the CheJ and I were out walking, we discov-
ered that there were apartments to let in this house, and
so inquiries resulted in the Section moving in here, the
Chef and I sharing the extra rent. Don't be alarmed at
this prodigality, for it means only fifty francs per month
to be divided between two of us. The place is owned by a
most charming French lady, whose husband is in the
trenches, and who manages the whole property, together
with four charming children, three boys, of thirteen, eight,
and six, and a little girl of four. We have all become great
friends with the little ones — and we play about to-
gether. The soldats americains, as they call us, are great
favorites with all the children and even the grown people
of the town, and it is very pleasant, indeed, to know how
kindly they all feel toward us. We also indulge in football
and sports generally with the jeunesse sportive of Wassy,
who much admire our prowess in games. But it is rather
a new experience to be stopped in the square by a Sister
of Charity and orated at — that is the only way to ex-
press it — to this effect : "Oh ! how glad the French people

108

SECTION FIFTEEN

are to have you here ; how much they like you personally
and admire your sports. How kind you are to the chil-
dren," and so on. I trust the two of us who underwent
the ordeal did not look too foolish. It was embarrassing,
but certainly not without its humorous and kindly side.

The Fourth of July was celebrated yesterday by the
whole town, and we were quite the centre of attraction.
It was about the most hectic day I have known. Lord,
what a party! It started after breakfast with an inspec-
tion by the General of the Division, a courtesy for the
Section. Numerous rehearsals had taught us to keep
something of a line and how and when to salute ; but as
a smartly drilled army, I am afraid S.S.U. Fifteen would
not take many prizes. The General was very amiable,
however; asked to be presented to each man, and went
down the line, shaking hands and asking questions as to
age, state, etc. He then spoke with the Chef, and myself
as Sous-Chef, for a few minutes and invited us to dinner.
Fancy me dining with the General ! I will tell of that in
its proper place. After the inspection, we had a period
for furbishing up, till the municipality gave the Section
a banquet at noon. Never before have I eaten and drunk
so much. We sat down, some sixty strong, at noon and
rose at 2.45 to rush off to prepare for a fete sportive. There
was course after course of delicious food with two kinds
of wine, not to mention cofTee and liqueurs at the end;
and we ate and ate, and stuffed and drank, all the time
knowing that we had to run races and play baseball and
football immediately after.

Anyhow, at 2.45 we changed into "sportive costumes,"
khaki shirts, BVD shorts, and such tennis shoes and socks
as we could find, and went to the park for the games.
Imagine us, torpid with food and drink, doing what fol-
lows: All the races and jumps were won by us, for the
poilus, as you know, are like the French in general, not
very athletic. Our demonstration of baseball was highly
successful and we won our football game, but were
utterly exhausted afterwards.

109

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

• Then the Section had dinner with champagne, which
the Chef and I did not attend, as we dined with the
General! It was most interesting — we two at a staff
dinner where all the other guests were in gorgeous uni-
forms plentifully bestrewn with medals. I should hardly
call it a gay meal. But the General was most gracious and
amiable — set the Chef on his left hand and poured wine
for him, while I was placed next to the Chief of Staff,
who speaks English perfectly, and we conversed of hunt-
ing and shooting and fishing in California. More wines —
three kinds — with liqueurs and coffee again. When we
finally left at 9.15, I felt this had been indeed an active
day — a banquet, a dinner with the General, an inspec-
tion by the General, a track meet, a baseball game, and
a game of soccer football. So to-day the whole Section is
nursing sore muscles and sore heads, and thanking the
Lord that July Fourth comes but once a year, especially
in France in war-time, and just after America's declara-
tion of war.

Wassy, July 15
We have seen two bodies of Americans here on the way
to their training-camps. They are a good lot, most of them,
but furnish some amusement to our French Lieutenant.
For example, a truck-load of officers came through yes-
terday, none of whom spoke French, and who had only
the vaguest idea where they were headed for. We set
them on a road leading in the general direction in which
they thought their destination lay and gave them our
blessings. They were very grateful and a very nice-look-
ing bunch. But it all amuses the French, and I suppose
we have a lot to learn.

Keith Vosburg^

^ Of Azusa, California; University of California, 'lo, Oxford University,
England, and Harvard; served with Sections Fifteen and Thirty-Two of
the Field Service, which he joined in February, 1917; later a First Lieu-
tenant in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service in France. The above are extracts
from Mr. Vosburg's home correspondence.

Ill

Day by Day

Paris, Sunday, March 4, 1917
The Champs Elysees was brilliant with Hfe and color
this fine Sunday afternoon. The sidewalks were crowded
with officers and beautiful women, with the conditions
of color absolutely reversed from those of peace-time —
black for the women and all the tints of the rainbow for
the soldiers. There is nothing of the stiff martial Hun
about them, but a certain soldierly dignity of carriage
that conceals, but at the same time proclaims, sternness
and unflinching devotion in time of peril.

Tuesday, March 13
When I walked home this evening, through the deserted
streets with a light shining only here and there, a strange
impression of the unreality of my experience came upon
me. It did not seem possible that I was walking down
a street of that Paris of my dreams, thousands of miles
from home.

Wednesday, April 1 1
A BIG dinner here at 21 rue Raynouard this evening to
Section Fifteen, which goes out to the front to-morrow.

Dombasle, Sunday, April 15
We started out slowly from Paris at 8 a.m. on the
I2th. Our Section has the record for quick time. Forty-
seven hours out of Paris, we carried blesses at Ver-
dun, replacing Section One which went to Champagne.
Cleaned up my car in the morning and played a little
baseball. It is certainly a queer contrast — a quiet game
of catch in the road here, while just over the hill the
batteries are banging away. As yet I cannot quite realize

III

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

that we are in the midst of death and suffering. We are
not far from Verdun, with Mort Homme and Hill 304 on
the east, and the Argonne Forest to the west. In the eve-
ning, we played duck on the rock to the great amusement
of, some poilus, who are most interesting and pleasant.
They seem to have a very real and hearty welcome for
us. The corporal we talked with was very intelligent,
and well-educated; he made me feel ashamed of myself,
he knew so much of English literature. He recited Keats
and Tennyson for us. . . . We have a wonderfully com-
fortable room with a fire going all the time.

Wednesday, April 18
Dull. Snow. Am writing this entry in the little abri in
the gray, dripping woods. Everywhere is dirty, sticky,
yellow mud that is unlike anything I have seen before.
A poilu has just come in from the trenches looking very
sad and discouraged. The poor fellow was malade; so
Clark took him back in his car. He also took two per-
missionnaires who were as happy as children at the
thought of leaving, at least for a little while, the misery
of it all.

Thursday, April 19
Slept very comfortably on my stretcher and woke at
six o'clock to take four assis down to Dombasle. When I
got out, the sun had just risen and shone redly through
the woods, like a ball of dull fire. The sky was streaked
with bands of blue, saffron, and pink, all in the lightest
tints. Along the road, between me and the dawn, came a
file of blue-clad heroes. They were going to relieve their
comrades in the trenches, and, in spite of what lay ahead,
they were singing. The finest men in the world, they are,
and the sight of them cheerily going forward, in the
peaceful freshness of dawn, to their terrible task, made an
impression on me that I shall never forget. . . . Ate lunch
outdoors in the warm sun to the music of shells whistling
overhead and the batteries of " 75's" exploding under my

112

SECTION FIFTEEN

nose. It was all very new and tremendously interesting.
But, though it was the first time I had been under fire,
I did not feel any peculiar emotion aside from curiosity
and interest. At twelve o'clock they brought in a poor
fellow who had been badly wounded and I set right out
with him. An exploding shell had hurt him terribly, so I
went very slowly and carefully all the way to Ville, as he
was fully conscious and suffering intensely. The poor man
kept softly groaning all the way, for, in spite of all my
efforts, the jolts and jars were dreadful. Coming back
from Ville a natural reaction took place and I slewed and
tore around the slippery corners to beat the band ; sing-
ing away for no reason in the wide world — but feeling
much relieved and almost normal again.

Landscapes and War

Sunday, April 22
It was a beautiful evening, and after supper I went up
on the hill and watched the sunset. I could see Dombasle,
with some of its quaint red roofs still intact, resting peace-
fully in the fertile, green valley between the rolling hills
that curved up on all sides, finally ending, westward, in
the blue swell of the Argonne. White bands of roadway
ran out of the little village, some rolling in wide curves,
others running straight as arrows, and along these slowly
moved long files of carts and tiny men. Across the hori-
zon against the red sun was a road, bordered by toy
trees, over which moved a lone team. The whole scene
was as clearly outlined as though it were only a few
yards away. . . . And all the while the booming and
crashing of the big guns ripped up the peaceful quiet and
turned a beautiful landscape into a troubled sea of war.
After I returned to the room, we sat around the fire look-
ing into the flames and talked in low voices of many
things. It was a time of confidences, of the opening of
jealously guarded secrets, of cherished ambitions. It is
comforting also merely to gaze into the mysterious, leap-
ing flames and let the mind run whither it will.

113

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

April 25
To-day was really my first experience under fire. I was
tremendously excited — and to be frank, scared stiff. The
chief emotion I recollect when the shell landed near me,
was surprise and satisfaction that the great organiza-
tion known as the German Army should have bothered
to fire upon me. With a little exaggeration, it became a
case of me vs. Guillaume. I feel very important.

Saturday, April 28
The Commander of our Army, General Herr, — three
stars and a stripe, — visited us and shook hands and
spoke wuth each one of us. The "big bug" was a kindly
old man with cavernous eyes. Our French Lieutenant
was very nervous during the ceremony and hid a lighted
pipe in his pocket. The General noticed something burn-
ing and called the Lieutenant's attention to a big hole in
the latter' s pocket. Which very much embarrassed said
Lieutenant.

Sunday, April 29
Two new fellows arrived yesterday on the mail truck.
The lads have been filled with as many stories as their
credulity admits. We sowed mitrailleuse bullets in the
walls of their room and spoke meaningly of aeroplane
bombs and German sharpshooters.

Monday, April 30
After lunch I had my hair cut at the G.B.D. I sat in a
rickety old chair on a bale of burlap in a dirty little side
room, while the barber clipped away with dull tools, and,
nevertheless, did a very good job. Just as I was driving
into Montzeville this evening two soldiers asked me to
help them draw their camion out of the ditch into which
the hind wheels had fallen. Of course I gladly assented
and spent the best part of an hour trying to pull the
truck out. We procured some wire, but it broke several
times before we finally succeeded. By this time I was

114

SECTION FIFTEEN

mighty tired and I fell asleep almost as soon as I hit the
hay. "Hay" is to be taken literally. During to-night's
ride large rats kept scurrying across the road at interv^als,
giving me a great sense of companionship.

Tuesday, May i
We have discovered the difference between the French
and German star-shells. The former explode when they
reach the height of their trajectory and the stick part
falls to the ground, leaving a little pin-prick of light that
gradually grows into a ghastly green flare. The light is
suspended from a parachute that remains in the air by
virtue of the hot air generated by the flame and lasts
about a minute. The Boche star-shells light on the way
up and remain up only as long as it takes the torch to
describe a long arching curve in the air.

Saturday, May 5
Our Chef, Barton, and Richmond are leaving for Meaux,
and we all feel very sad over losing three whom we all
liked and respected. We gave a farewell dinner at which
they all spoke, as did the new Chef Osborn and our
French Lieutenant, Clark making an efhcient and amus-
ing toastmaster. It is really remarkable how close the
Section has grown together since its formation and how
genuine was the regret at the split. Red Clark carried a
wounded German prisoner and was terribly bawled out
for shaking hands with him.

Brancardiers and Poilus

Friday, May 18

The French hrancardier is a kindly, sympathetic man who
has been through the mill and come out strengthened in
faith and understanding rather than hardened. He is
probably the most lovable character I have met. So many
of his kind seem like big children; but in time of stress,
they show unsuspected depths of strength and coolness.

115

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Sunday, May 20
In the afternoon, most of the fellows went down to the
cooperative field and played baseball with the English.
I have had a long talk with a little poilu who did some
laundry for me. He had a kindly face with twinkling eyes
and humorous wrinkles, though lines of care are only too
evident also. He is a simple farmer chap of no education.
As for the war, he said he was mightily wearied of it all,
but that he and every one of his countrymen would con-
tinue till the cause of right and humanity be won. I fin-
ished by entertaining a respect and admiration for the
man that I cannot express. He was absolutely above
anything that was small or mean ; and I am beginning to
realize that there are a lot of his comrades just like him.

Esnes, Tuesday, May 22
After lunch I sat outside playing checkers with one of
the hrancardiers, when a shell landed just outside the yard
and the eclats rattled against the chateau. We ducked
for the ahri, as three more fell uncomfortably close, one
near my car and one in the graveyard. Though the eclats
shot by my car on all sides, not a piece went through it,
much to my disgust.

An Accident

Thursday, June 14
All the afternoon, I sat around in my car trying to read
and basking in the hot sun. Suddenly I heard a loud
explosion and looked up to see a soldier, whom I had
noticed working among the ruins across the road, blown
into a bloody heap. He got up, streaming blood from his
chest and arms, and staggered down the street a few
yards, when he collapsed again. The hrancardiers rushed
out and I got a stretcher from my car, while the phar-
macien arranged a tourniquet for a severed artery in the
man's arm. Then I hurried him to Ville, as fast as the
wretched condition of the road would allow, where they
told me he would live, but that his arm would have to be

116

SECTION FIFTEEN

amputated. The whole terrible drama was caused by the
poor fellow having dropped a piece of tile on an old
grenade.

Saturday, June i6
For some unaccountable reason our whole room was late
to breakfast, and work in the garden as punishment being
pretty well exhausted, we were forced to aid the genie
down by the railroad. We slung huge logs around, piled
planks, and in about two hours accomplished what the
genie were accustomed to take a week to do. This latter
gentry sat around smoking cigarettes in the shelter of a
pile of timbers, and, with mildly curious and altogether
satisfied eyes, watched us work. It was awfully hot busi-
ness, and I was very glad when I got back and had a cold
bath.

The Lieutenant tells me that the poor fellow who was
hit by the grenade died shortly after his arm was ampu-
tated.

I am told that three men of the 143d Regiment have
just been shot because they refused to fight and were
stirring up trouble among the soldiers. Two men from
every other company in the Division were compelled to
witness the execution.

Sunday, June 17
The cherries are ripe and hang in tiny red clusters that
peep from under shiny leaves, affording pleasing contrast
in color. The first hay of the season has been cut and its
lingering fragrance still hangs over the stubbled meadows.
The birds chirp in a rather listless sort of way and seem
not to mind being drowned out by the lazy humming of
bees and innumerable flies. Wandering through the tall,
unkempt grass, one is apt to make the pleasing discovery
of a row of rosebushes laden with heavy blossoms that
alone mark the spot of a former garden, while every-
where one goes, one meets the piquant dash of brilliant
red that denotes the poppy, standing boastfully forth

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

from the field of soft, mellow colors. The world here-
abouts is a great fragrant garden inviting you with all
its subtle influence to further investigate its beauties.

Good-bye to Mort Homme

Sunday, June 24
After a very excellent meal, I prepared to do my last
day's ambulance work here. My car was filled with
blesses and malades, and I was about to crank it, when
M. Charvet, the pharmacien at Esnes, told me that the
Boches were firing on the " Corner" and that I had better
hurry when I got there. I could see the cloud of black
smoke hanging over it and every once in a while a new
explosion boomed out. I felt that it was rather unneces-
sary to send the car out while the bombardment lasted,
since I had no grave cases. But I could n't tell him that
and so I started off with very decided misgivings. . . .
After supper, when I was relieved, and reached the top
of the hill for a last view of the familiar scene, I almost
felt a sensation of affection for Mort Homme — now that
we are leaving it.

Wassy, Haute-Marne, Tuesday, Jime 26
We rose at five o'clock, made up our blanket-rolls, ate a
wretched, uncooked breakfast, and were off by six o'clock
with an astonishing lack of confusion and an equally
amazing proximity to the time schedule. The squad sys-
tem worked well. We took a direct route which included
the towns of Ville, Jubecourt, Bar-le-Duc, Saint-Dizier,
and Wassy. From the very start my car ran wretchedly
and could not maintain the fast pace set by the convoy ;
so I had to travel close to the camionnette with Bailey in
order to save time on the repair job. The Lieutenant and
the Medecin Chef, who travelled with him, were much in-
terested in my mishaps and even kept close to me in order
not to miss any of the fun. Just outside of Bar-le-Duc
I caught up again with the convoy and managed, by the
exercise of great skill and persuasion, to stick with it the

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THE >?ElGHBOK OF OUR PASSY DAYS— THE CENTRE OF OUR WORLD

SECTION FIFTEEN
T"

rest of the way. Near by in the fields where we stopped
for lunch were several cherry trees laden with rich lus-
cious fruit, and in a few moments we gathered enough to
last the rest of the trip. At about 1 1 a.m. we arrived at
Wassy, parked our cars, made a scanty meal at one of
the cafes and spent the afternoon arranging our quarters.
After supper I took a stroll and went to bed early.

Life en Repos

Wednesday, June 27
Wassy is a quaint, beautiful little city of four thousand
inhabitants. The small centralized area devoted to busi-
ness is a tangled maze of clean, cobblestone streets, the
other streets being wide and shady like a New England
village. At present the town is very deserted, for the
soldiers have not yet arrived, and the only people at home
are old men, women, and children, who come out and
gaze at us as though we were strange animals. We are
the first Americans, except perhaps a few casual tour-
ists, who have ever visited the place, and consequently
we are the topic of the day. The little girls and boys fol-
low us around everywhere, and when we stop, we are
surrounded by an eager, curious crowd. These children
are so well-behaved and lovable that we feel like adopt-
ing several on the spot. We worked all the morning
washing our cars with the aid of hundreds of little urchins
who insisted on going over with a dirty rag spots that
we had just cleaned. Our cars are parked by the public
square guarded by two soldiers, bayonets drawn, to pro-
tect them, I suppose, from the curious infants.

The river Blaise flows through the village in front of
our camp, finally ending its journey in the Marne. A canal
also traverses the place, and both of these streams have
their source in a reservoir just outside of the town proper.
We went swimming there this afternoon, as it was ter-
ribly hot, and absolutely had the time of our lives. The
water was warm and clean, and we dived from a stone
embankment into deep water, so there is no muddy bot-

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torn to consider, Down in the fields below the embank-
ment they were making hay, and the warm, sweet odor
drifted up to us as we lay stretched out in a luxurious sun-
bath.

Thursday, June 28
Our new quarters are in the second story of the grand
chateau of the town, one that was formerly occupied by
the Governor of the province and which dates back to
1700. The family lives on the first floor and rents the sec-
ond to us. We have six rooms, all of them very large; so
we are not at all cramped. There are three little children
in the family and we have all fallen in love with them.

Saturday, June 30
After supper, Bundy, Liddell, and I went up to see the
communique posted outside the mairie. Returning, we
stopped to talk with an old gentleman and his wife who
were leaning through their parlor window that opened
on the sidewalk. They were the most genuine, patriotic,
lovable, kindly — except when they spoke of the Boches
— and hospitable people I have ever known. In honor of
the occasion, a new bottle of some mild liqueur w^as
opened, and when we finally forced ourselves to leave,
the old gentleman called us ''mes enjantsy

Tuesday, July 3

Frazer Clark and I paid a visit to the Marquis de
Mauroy to see his wonderful collection of meteors and
minerals, the former being the best in the world. We met
the Marquis on the street here in Wassy, and he invited
us to come after lunch. Though almost an invalid he
showed us his things personally with a great deal of pride
in his collection, and was very kind and hospitable.

The Fourth of July
The Wassy College invited us to dinner at the Hotel de la
Gare, which proved to be very interesting and enjoyable.

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We were each seated between two etudiants who in-
sisted on speaking broken English, while we murdered
the French language with our usual cheerful unconcern.
At three o'clock we had a track meet with the soldiers in
which we managed to win about everything, and after
that a short exhibition of baseball, ending up the after-
noon with a soccer game with the French soldiers, which
we won, 6 to 4. The features of the day were the huge
crowds of people, their enthusiasm and the evidences of
their friendly feeling for us. It was very thrilling to find
such hospitality and welcome so far away from home.

Back to Verdun

Tremont, Wednesday, August i
We arrived at this little village in time to arrange our
quarters before lunch, in a huge, garish chateau that was
evidently the pride of the town. I have an immense
feather-bed to myself. A shallow brook five feet wide
flows along the main street and in this brook all the wash-
ing is done. On the top of one of the neighboring hills,
we found a fine level field for baseball, which we played
all the afternoon.

Saturday, August 4
Startling news! We leave to-morrow morning! Frantic
eleventh-hour repairs and packing occupied the evening.

August 5
As we watched, three planes descended, swooping down
in wide circles and making spectacular dives and turns
for the benefit of the crowds of soldiers who stood gazing
up with us. The sun was just setting and on each down-
ward circle the machines were blackly silhouetted against
the glowing crimson clouds in the west. ... It made one
catch one's breath.

Jukecourt, Monday, A ugust 6
We went to bed early, as the lights have to be turned out
at nine o'clock on account of enemy aeroplanes. The

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woods are full of artillery, wheel to wheel — the most
stupendous massing of guns the officers have ever seen.
We hear the continual sound of cannon.

Wednesday, August 8
We went to-day with a caraion to Vadelaincourt to get
ravitailUment. The activity and ordered confusion that
covered the road and all the countryside we could see
were proof of the importance of this sector. Thousands
of camions passed us. We played baseball in the afternoon.

Thursday, August 9
Almost half the Section was called out this morning.
The traffic on the road was worse than yesterday.

Tuesday, August 14
Last night at La Claire, beyond Fromereville, a good
deal of shelling was going on, when a "130" burst near
our staff car, eclats wounding Dominic Rich and Earl
Osborn, who were quickly taken to Vadelaincourt.

Wednesday, August 15
Apparently, the Section is not at all worried by the
casualties, for life goes on as usual in every way. We make
pilgrimages to Vadelaincourt in squads of four to visit
our blesses. There was a terrific bombardment last night
and all day. Playing baseball in the afternoon, I sprained
my ankle and have to limp around with a cane.

Thursday, August 16
The whole campaign of action has been mapped out to
us on secret army maps so that we know pretty much
what is to take place. Forty more prisoners were marched
by to-day and Jimmy got a hat, while Frazer cut off an
iron-cross ribbon.

Saturday, August 18

I HAD a very interesting conversation with a soldier-
priest touching the vital points of religion, especially in

122

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its relation to those going into battle. We watched bat-
talions of the 31st Infantry go by in their light attacking
order, with a small blanket-roll and no pack. The priest
remarked that many of the soldiers had new uniforms
and overcoats so that they "might be well-dressed to die."
Later, however, he said that no matter how much a
Frenchman may complain and mutter, he always fights
like a hero when the test comes. These men going into
battle were so downcast and serious-looking that I could
not force a smile of good-cheer, for visions of what was
before them. They offered quite a contrast to the Moroc-
cans who went up singing and joking like boisterous
children.

Rampont, Sunday, August 19
We had breakfast at seven o'clock and immediately after
broke camp. It was a long, hard task for there was much
to do and the day was enervating. The Section has accu-
mulated so much material that it took three voyages of
the White to finish up things. Our new quarters are on
the hill above the town. We have not a great deal of
room, but there is a grassy stretch where we have pitched
our tents. The French anti-aircraft guns shot down a
Boche avion near here this afternoon. A crowd of Moroc-
cans rushed to the scene and were all for tearing the Ger-
man to pieces; in fact, it was only the intervention of a
general that saved him, "Tex" Jones, in a long raincoat
and goggles, with a handkerchief over his nose against
the dust, also hurried to the spot, and was almost knocked
down himself before the Moroccans discovered that he
was not the Boche. The machine was quickly broken up
into souvenirs.

The Attack

Monday, August 20
My first call came at eleven o'clock last night, and since
then I have n't had time to eat or sleep. The attack
started at four o'clock this morning. My pulses were

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pounding away with excitement as I turned up the old
Montzeville road, and the noise of the roaring guns grew
louder and louder, till finally I reached the crest of the
hill and the whole stunning effect of sight and sound
burst upon me. Guns exploding on all sides of me — huge
nightmarish things that shook the very ground ; dugouts
with men standing around laughing and joking; I remem-
ber now how the contrast struck me — the light cas-
ualness of these men and the hellishness of the scene
around them. The attack had gone famously and the
enthusiasm was contagious. I became conscious of nothing
but an overwhelming desire to shout and yell. The day
was brilliant and sunshiny; it seemed like a holiday. I
started back with my wounded, determined to return as
soon as possible in order not to miss any of the show;
what then was my anger and disappointment when I was
forced to wait half an hour to unload! The second time
at poste I got a Boche helmet from a very attractive-
looking prisoner. I finished out my twenty-four hours'
duty with a trip to Chaumont. During the day our Sec-
tion alone carried over 700 wounded, covering a distance
of 2000 kilometres. I carried 55 men, went over 350 kilo-
metres, and used 50 litres of gas. I was fairly well tired
out when at length I was able to tumble into bed and

forget the war for a while.

Wednesday, August 22

Last night a German aeroplane bombed the Vadelain-
court hospital and worked terrible havoc among the
wounded, including many of their own. It was a frightful
deed, done apparently in cold blood. I made a trip from
Jubecourt to Vadelaincourt, and had a very interesting
conversation on the way over with a Dutchman of the
Foreign Legion. He said that 460 of his countrymen had
enlisted at the beginning of the war, only 40 of whom re-
mained. His words showed what a marvellous esprit de
corps the Legion had built up. Every man is proud of its
reputation and would rather die than in any way harm it.
It has never once failed to obtain its objective.

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SECTION FIFTEEN

Claires- Chesnes, Thursday, August 23
After supper, I went on duty at Claires-Chesnes and im-
mediately was sent to Chaumont with one man — a badly
wounded Moroccan. These Moroccans are wonderful
fighters, but when they are wounded, they cry and suffer
out loud like children — untaught to conceal their emo-
tions. This poor fellow cried out all the way in spite of
all my efforts to prevent jars. It was a fearful experience,
for there was nothing I could do to help him except
continue.

Claires-Chesnes, Saturday, September i
I MADE several trips last night, which gave me an oppor-
tunity to revolve in my mind all the troubled impressions
caused by my reading of last evening and before. It was a
beautiful night with a clear, calm moon that made all
human problems seem futile and unnecessary. On one
trip a sergeant of the Foreign Legion sat with me on the
front seat, and during the ride talked cheerfully on vari-
ous matters, though his head was entirely bandaged. On
reaching Vadelaincourt, I put my hand on the side box
while alighting and it came away dripping with blood,
while the faint glimmer from the Attente des Couches sign
showed a pool of blood stretching several feet on the mud-
guard. . . . There was the answer to the moon.

A New Cantonment — Bombing

Jouy, Sunday, September 2
At 5 p.m. I proceeded to our new cantonment at this
place. It is located in the woods of a steep slope rising
on the north side of the village. The fellows had worked
well, and numerous tents, cleverly placed to avoid detec-
tion by aeroplanes, gleamed through the trees. It is a
pleasant, roomy sort of a spot, though the guns sound
uncomfortably close, and occasionally the sharp whine
of a shell tells of a near-by battery that makes the whole
place a target.

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Jouy, Wednesday, September 5
Last night German aviators dropped bombs all night
long. The most terrible effect was the destruction in the
hospital at Vadelaincourt, where I stopped on the way
back this afternoon. One bomb landed in the officers'
barrack, killing instantly the Medecin Chef and two offi-
cers. The other three landed in different parts of the wards,
working terrible destruction, as the eclats left no building
untouched. The casualties were chiefly among the person-
nel. Three nurses were badly wounded and a doctor was
killed with the patient he was operating upon. It was a
truly frightful spectacle, one that made the onlooker for-
get any sense of humanity in an overwhelming desire to
crush a people whose doctrines sanction deeds like that;
for there is no doubt that the thing was done in cold blood.

Jouy, Saturday, September 8
To-DAY and last night I made about seven trips. The
cannonading on the right bank of the Meuse was terrific
all night. I spent the afternoon in taxi service getting
delicacies for a banquet that the Medecin Chef at Claires-
Chesnes is giving to the French Lieutenant on the occasion
of his Croix de Guerre. At Rarecourt, we — Lieutenant
Rubait and I — went into a patisserie to buy eclairs and
before we left we had either bought or eaten almost the
entire stock.

Monday, September 10
Last night was a little too nerve-racking. About midnight
we were awakened by the crash of two shells, one on top
of the other, somewhere down in the orchard between the
cars and the village. We were just about congratulating
ourselves on the conclusion of the strafe, when two more
shells landed so near that klats whistled through the trees.
At that, all dignity broke down and there was one mad,
trampling rush for the trench. Ryan's bed was in the en-
trance and about fifteen fellows walked over him before
he had a chance to escape. I found myself in the trench

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SECTION FIFTEEN

with one shoe and my sheepskin coat on. Somebody
stepped on my unprotected foot with praiseworthy en-
ergy, though I felt it to be somewhat out of place under
the circumstances. No more shells came, however, and
wit began to make itself heard, until finally the party
broke up as a sort of lark. All day I have been limping
around on my bad foot.

Claires-Chesnes, Friday, September 14
The tricolor at the gate is struggling manfully against
the beating rain. It flaps painfully from side to side,
slower and slower, and now seems about to give up and
hang dead. But every time a new impulse appears to
spring through it, for up it struggles again, fluttering in
dogged resistance against the downpour. And, somehow,
I feel cheered at the sight of this sacred emblem of France,
so worthily emulating its people.

A Visit to Mort Homme

Paste 232, Wednesday, September 19
After breakfast I was standing outside the poste enjoy-
ing the morning sun when Sergeant Marcel came along
and invited me to a ramble on Mort Homme. I naturally
jumped at the opportunity and asked for and received
the necessary permission from Chaussard. The morning
was bright, but hazy, thus preventing efficient artillery
observation, and consequently we were able to avoid the
boyau and take the open path. So we tramped beside the
trench for some distance till we came to a supply station,
where we branched off on to what had once been a road,
but which is now so spotted with shell-holes that I could
hardly believe Marcel when he said the artillery caissons
traversed it easily. Here we saw some sturdy little bob-
sleds which are used in wet weather, and passed batteries,
support trenches, then the former third line, barbed
wire, the second line, more barbed wire, and finally the
old first line. There were many shell-holes all about, but
the trenches w^ere in excellent condition, with the excep-

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tion of the first line which was battered in places. We now
crossed No Man's Land, past chevaux-de-frise hastily
thrown aside to open up a pathway for the attacking
troops, and came on to — imagine if you can the interior
of a volcano, the smoke-blasted sides, the tumbled heaps
of stuff thrown up, the yellow, scarred appearance; or
picture an angry yellow sea running in mountainous
swells and covered with smaller waves and troughs. We
were in a sort of pocket formed by the first slopes of
Mort Homme rising on three sides; and here had been
the German lines, Marcel told me. But I saw nothing,
nothing except the most frightful cataclysm I shall ever
see. We had left the road now and were on a narrow path
running along the crest of enormous, gaping holes; past
twisted, useless barbed wire, and occasionally along half-
submerged sap entrances from which drifted a faint,
acrid odor. The French have cleaned up the place well
since the attack, but I saw some gruesome sights. An
innocent-looking bundle of rags more than once turned
out to hold remains of a man. A shoe with a foot and
sometimes a leg in it was a common occurrence, and once
I noticed a skull. Grenades, body armor, helmets, gas-
masks, and everything imaginable, lay strewn all about.
Presently we entered a trench which was at first shal-
low, but which suddenly deepened into a strong, well-
protected thoroughfare that took us over the crest of
Mort Homme. Here of a sudden Marcel drew me into a
sap just in time to avoid the Colonel of the 8oth, for my
presence could hardly be explained. This sap, which had
been built by the Germans, was of strong and of most
curious design. It had so little head-room that the only
way to enter it, as far as I could see, was by crawling
backwards on hands and knees. After proceeding a little
farther along the trench. Marcel turned into an abri and
then through a curtained doorway into a little box of a
room — the observation post, where, through a narrow
slit, I could look down into a valley from which rose, on
the near side, the rather steep slope of Mort Homme cov-

128

SECTION FIFTEEN

ered with shattered trees. The French trenches ran very
near, just below me, and the German ones showed very
plainly in front of the Bois de Forges, the two being sepa-
rated by over a kilometre, due to the marshy quality of
the low ground. On the way back, we stopped at a tele-
phone station to see a friend of Marcel's and were con-
ducted down a very long sap into a stuffy chamber where
we were received with the hospitality and grace of a
drawing-room. The telephonist made chocolate for us,
apologized for the lack of room with an ease and poise
that made me quite forget my surroundings. I was quite
tired out when we finally reached the poste, for we had
gone over eight kilometres.

To THE Champagne

Vaubecourt, Saturday, October 6
We left Jouy at 9 a.m. to-day and Section Thirty-One
took our place. We reached this village at 11 a.m. The
kitchen trailer was delayed, so we went forth in search
of food. After many rebufTs and failures, four of us found
ourselves in the back room of a tumble-down house that
we reached by going through a stable and up three steps.
The room was bare, but very clean, and with a cheerful
fire burning on a wide hearth. Two old women served us
with fried potatoes, cider, and pears, which, added to the
tins of meat and huge loaf of bread and cheese we had
bought, made a very substantial meal. The women told
us a pathetic story of the vandalism and wanton destruc-
tion of the Huns when they occupied the village before
the Battle of the Marne. All the furniture and goods were
transported to Germany and the houses were then burned.
The English, with customary thoroughness, gave to each
of the inhabitants of the destroyed villages around here
a bed, some clothes, a rooster, a hen and a cow.

Chantrix, Tuesday, October 9
We left this morning for the Champagne sector, having
been transferred to the Fourth Army. We were stopped

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at the first village beyond Vaubecourt to make way for a
party of notables including President Poincare, Marshal
Joffre, and the President of Portugal. We lined up by the
roadside while the automobiles wheeled by, and every
one acknowledged our formation, President Poincare
raising his hat completely and accompanying it with a
short bow. We reached this village at 4 p.m. I slept the
night in my car. The church here rings out the hours with
a bell that is the exact counterpart of the Andover chapel
bell.

Prosnes, Sunday, November 4
There is a cemetery near here of more than two hun-
dred soldiers, ten to twenty in a grave. These graveyards
are everywhere, with occasional black crosses conspicuous
by the absence of the tricolor cockade; they mark the
resting-place of Germans. After supper I got a hurry call
to Petite Haie where were two very graves blesses, both
suffering from the most painful wound possible — leg
fracture. Returning, I missed the sharp turn outside of
Prosnes and took the road that runs off to the left toward
Baconnes. After going about three kilometres, I became
worried at not finding La Plaine and finally stopped and
asked my whereabouts. I went through awful mental
agony, emphasized each moment by the tortured cries of
the poor fellows in back, both fully conscious, and aware,
I had no doubt, of my mistake and my fatal helplessness.
The horror, the agony of that ride will rest graven on my
mind. I asked the doctor if the extra fifteen minutes in
my car would have made any difference and he assured
me no. Both men died at one o'clock that same morning.

Wednesday, November 7
I SPENT the greater part of the afternoon at bridge, writ-
ing, and talking with the telephonist. I learned that the
corps de sante has an informal code that is used over the
telephone in case the Boches should overhear what is
said. Thus, an automobile is a bidon; a wounded man,

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HILLSIDE TRENCHES IN THE SNOWS OF CHAMPAGNE

NEAR HEXEN-WEG IN THE VALLEYS OE THE " MON i.s, ' CllAMlAGNL

SECTION FIFTEEN

line categorie; a dead man, une planche, etc. The new ahri
at Bouleaux has just been finished and is by far the most
comfortable of all those of the front-line pastes. You enter
it from a trench near the road and go down twenty-four
steps, which brings the little room at the bottom just
under the road, so that wagons and men passing over-
head make a curious noise a little like the scuffling of rats.
In this little box there is just place for three bunks, cut
out of the pure white chalk. The absence of rats and
totos is noticeable and worthy of mention.

A Coup de Main

Tuesday, November 13
Greenwood apparently has some very secret "dope,"
as he has told us flatly that there is to be a large coup de
main by the French on Thursday morning and that he
expects to call all cars out. One battalion of the loist
Regiment is going to make the attack.

La Plaine, Wednesday, November 14
To-NiGHT I feel as though I could do anything, and yet I
sit here in luxury while other poor fellows are thinking
of morn when they are going to risk their lives — for
what? What does it matter if the Germans win? We will
forget it on the morrow. But no! I know w^hy it matters
and I feel I am not doing enough. The trenches are a great
melting-pot from which emerges all the good purged of
the evil. To-morrow morning at five o'clock Bill and I
are going to Constancelager to carry away those brave
fellows who are waiting now, thinking ... I don't know
what I think.

Thursday, November 15

We rose in the darkness, and after a hasty breakfast set
forth. The morning was unexpectedly mild and so misty
that I found it difficult to keep Bill's car in sight. It grew
light rapidly and by the time we arrived at Prat, the
gaunt plain was easily visible. All was quiet and peaceful,

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but I realized how deceptive it was when I thought of the
inferno about to break forth. I was waiting with ears
strained to catch the first sound when I learned that the
coup de main had been postponed till to-morrow morning.

Constancelager, Friday, November i6
We started out again in exactly the same way as yester-
day, except that just as I backed my car into the shelter
at Prat, it happened. The din was tremendous. The sky
showed streaks of crimson in the east, over the dead,
peaceful countryside, and birds were singing in the air.
But the inferno on the hills yonder only increased. How-
ever, the coup de mam was an absolute failure. I carried

two terrible head cases.

Reims, Monday, November 19

I HAVE been struck by the careless way in which an inven-
tory is made of the dead man's effects. To me it is such a
sacred, touching ofhce. The crowd of hrancardiers are as
boyish as we are. They laugh and joke like a lot of school-
boys, which is nothing short of marvellous considering the
depressing effect of their lives. How I admire them !

Dillman, Wednesday, November 21
At II P.M. I was awakened and given a couche to take to
Chalons; so I visited the American canteen at the station.
It is a marvellous place with hundreds of brancards for
the soldiers to sleep on, arranged in groups according to
the destinations of the soldiers who may thus be awak-
ened in time for their train. There are reading-rooms,
shower-baths, an outdoor garden, and a huge refectory
where one may buy simple, extraordinarily cheap food
served with the efficiency of a modern American quick-
lunch counter. The big rooms are quaintly and cleverly
decorated and furnished with indirect lighting. The
kitchen is a model establishment. But chief of all attrac-
tions, for me at least, were the pleasant American women
in charge. I talked for a long time with a very attractive
lady before I could finally tear myself away.

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Life and Comfort at the Front

Sunday, December 2
Woke at eight o'clock to find a broad beam of sunlight
across the foot of my bed. What a glorious day! Clear,
limitless blue overhead, sunlight on the green firs, a wind
bringing air like wine that sends the blood tingling
through the veins. From the observation tower the whole
city of Reims was plainly visible. What a wonderful
thing to be alive!

Haie Claire, Monday, December 3
Arrived here for the night, I followed my guide into a
maze of trenches, one of which ended in a wide entrance
to the poste, sloping downward with short, regular steps
and plenty of head-room, unlike any other ahri I have
ever seen. At the foot is a broad archway cut out of pure
chalk and then comes the door of the main room of the
poste. What a surprise to find a blazing fire crackling on
a hearth In the opposite wall, throwing ruddy reflections
on the whitewashed walls and filling the place with
warmth and comfort. The Medecin Chef lounged on a
bench with his slippered feet on the hearth, and several
hrancardiers were talking In an undertone In a corner. A
more peaceful, homelike spot would be hard to find. From
another wing of the ahri floated softly the sound of a
flute and men's voices In chorus. The Medecin Chef nodded
his head In approval. " It keeps the men happy," he said.
Reluctantly I broke away from the warm fire and crept
into my narrow bunk.

Constancelager, Sunday, December 9
I TOOK a walk with an aspirmit who spoke English and
who led me through a maze of trenches, all labelled with
picturesque names. We passed oflficers' quarters, very
cosy and comfortable, with smoke betraying the warmth
within, soldiers grouped about a table playing cards, mes-
sengers hurrying along, the postman with letters and

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newspapers, soldiers working on new boyaux or abris or
repairing fils de fer; in fact, all the ordinary aspects of
trench existence which is now so perfect that a system
of trenches is a busy, humming community, with its main
streets, and alleys, its tenement row and its "Fifth
Avenue," its church, its hospital, and its store.

Winter — The Close of 191 7

Haie Claire, Monday, December 17
Snow! We woke to a world absolutely transformed. Snow
on the little huts, on the trees, glistening on the ground,
and the air crisp and tingling. On account of the danger
of aeroplanes taking pictures of tracks in the snow, we
had to cross the open places on a single path, and, in the
big level place in front, the cars have to use one track
only.

La Plaine, Christmas, 191 7
We went wood-gathering beyond Thulzy in a forest of
huge first-growth hardwood trees. Shells had done awful
damage there. The magnificent trees were shattered and
torn and thrown Into all kinds of fantastic positions. One
giant maple remained practically Intact, with a tiny
observation post riddled by eclats hidden away up at the
top, perhaps a hundred feet in the air. The ground was
torn up by the shells, and fallen branches lay around
knee-deep, which added greatly to the difficulty of our
work.

La Plaine, Monday, December 31
And so this Is the end of 1917, — the most thrilling, most
inspiring, most profoundly influencing year of my life.
I look back on it with a certain amount of satisfaction
tinged with awe and wonder.

Jerome Preston ^

1 Of Lexington, Massachusetts; Harvard, '19; entered the American
Field Service in February, 1917, and served with Section Fifteen through-
out the war. The above are extracts from a diary.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

Section Fifteen was enlisted in the United States Army
at Jouy-en-Argonne as Section Six-Thirty-Three. About No-
vember I, 1917, it moved to La Plaine, in the region of the
"Mounts" in the Champagne district. During this winter pe-
riod there was no particular action along the front, the principal
thing of interest being speculation as to when and where the
Germans would pull their much-heralded "kolossal" offensive.
On January 15, 1918, the Section went en repos in this district,
coming back again to the lines at Mourmelon-le-Grand, in the
same region, but a different sector.

Section Fifteen, after the army took it over, almost qualifies
for the title of the "One Sector Section." It remained here in
the Champagne, in this immediate neighborhood, sometimes
shifting to one or the other of the near-by "Mounts" sectors,
but never going far away, until July 20. From the 15th of
March until the ist of April its Division experienced a number
of small but annoying diversion attacks, usually accompanied
by gas. At these times there were fairly heavy evacuations from
Prosnes, Ferme de Moscou, and Constantine. The Section was
cited in April for its work during these gas attacks.

During Ludendorff's famous "Friedenstiirm" offensive in
the Champagne, from July 15 to July 17, the work of the Sec-
tion was very heavy. The main part of the action here stopped
abruptly after the counter-attack of July 18 on the Soissons-
Chateau-Thierry front. For its work during this defensive the
Section was cited to the Order of the Army.

Finally, on October 5, the Section moved to the front near
Suippes, in the Champagne. It took part in General Gouraud's
attack here, advancing steadily with its Division to and across
the Aisne at Vouziers, and was still going forward when the
Armistice stopped operations. For its work in this last attack
it was again cited.

After the Armistice it remained for some time at Montigny,
moving on to Charleville, Brussels, and finally taking up a
more or less permanent position at Grevenbroich, Germany. It
was ordered in to Base Camp on the 27th of February, 1919,
and sailed from Brest for home during the first week in April.

Jerome Preston

IN MEMORIAM
Arthur Myers

Section Sixteen

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Franklin D. W. Glazier
II. Alpheus Edward Shaw

III. James H. Lewis

IV. Marshal G. Penfield

SUMMARY

Section Sixteen left Paris at the end of the third week of
April, 191 7. It went to Rar^court, in the Verdun-Argonne
sector, and in this sector it remained for nearly six months,
working about Grange-le-Compte and the poste of Bon Abri.
Its greatest activity was during and after the successful Verdun
offensive in August of that year. Just before the end of its
history it moved to Corbeil, back of Vitry-le-Frangois, for a
repos, and there became Section Six-Thirty-Four of the U.S.
Army Ambulance Service.

Section Sixteen

Finish'd the days, the clouds dtspell'd,
The travail o'er, the long-sought extrication.
When lo! reborn, high o'er the European world,
(In gladness answering thence, as face afar to face,

reflecting ours, Columbia,)
Again thy star, O France, fair lustrous star,
In heavenly peace, clear, more bright than ever,
Shall beam immortal.

Walt Whitman

Beginning Work at Verdun

Section Sixteen's history may be described almost as
a single operation. Its work during the five months before
it was taken over by the American Army lay in one sec-
tor and was connected during the entire time with the
August, 191 7, offensive about Verdun.

The Section was composed entirely of men who had
come to France before America entered the war, and
the bond that united them, from the very outset, was
their love for France. Though drawn from every part of
their own country — from half a dozen universities and
twice that number of colleges and schools ~ almost at

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

once there sprang up among us an idealistic spirit, which
made us a unit. So, because of this spirit, drudgery be-
came rather a play and discomfort less hard to bear. The
men saw the good in each other and grew strangely tol-
erant. Danger became vastly less important than getting
to a poste, and never once was there hesitation in going
where ordered; never once was there a second call for
volunteers.

At the end of the third week of April, 1917, Section
Sixteen left Paris. The early morning departure from the
park of "21" was delayed for a special inspection by
M. Justin Godart, the Assistant Secretary of War, and
hence the first night on the road came at Montmirail, a
black, seething backwater of the Champagne offensive
then at its height. Next day came Chalons, and night at
Fains, with no accidents beyond blow-outs. The feeling
of war was now in the cold, spring air which made this
homely village, with its high, sheltering hills, seem very
friendly. A day's waiting for orders, a day full of rumors
and guesses, followed, and ended suddenly by Hyde,
the Sotis-chef, and myself being sent ahead to Rarecourt
to learn the country from Section Four which we were
destined to relieve.

This country was a vast stretch of rolling, fertile up-
land. To the west lay the valley of the Aire and the dark
line of the Argonne from which the pine-clad promontory
of Clermont jutted out into the plain. Toward the north
the land rose to a line of hills covered by the Forest of
Hesse, while eastward it stretched away to the Hauts-de-
Meuse south of Verdun. Here and there in the valleys lay
tiny villages; squat, stone-faced cottages huddled about
slate-roofed church spires, some of them almost intact
and still inhabited, others a desolation of crumbling walls.

Rarecourt itself, from its bridge across the Aire,
straggles up to its church on the hilltop, and there by the
church were the Section's headquarters, barracks, mess-
room, officers' quarters, and the repair-shop. From there,
in accordance with the French system, the cars ran up

140

SECTION SIXTEEN

eighteen kilometres to the front, either by the straight
white road through the Aire Valley, or winding up over
the hills to the Forest of Hesse, to bring back the wounded
to the divisional sorting-hospital, where other cars carried
those who could be moved to specialized hospitals, or to
the rail-head twelve kilometres farther south.

The work at first was very light. Six men with their
ambulances were always at the advanced pastes, whence
they could be called by telephone to the dressing-stations
near the lines; two men with cars were stationed at the
sorting-hospital ; and three for police, water, and provi-
sions. The forward pastes were greatly in demand. The
sector Avocourt-Vauquois-Boureuilles was very quiet.
Only occasional shells came in. Almost imperceptibly,
however, the work increased, until by June the road took
on a new life. Batteries of guns began moving up, and long
convoj^s of ammunition trucks passed continuously. At
the end of the month, the Germans attacked at Hill 304,
just to the right.

Celebration on the Fourth

At such a moment no one in the Section was willing to
take advantage of the Fourth-of-July leave, and in appre-
ciation of this General Collin gave us all to ourselves an
Independence Day Fete, with a regimental band, cham-
pagne, etc., and we had as guests men from the neighbor-
ing sections. Seventeen, Nineteen, and Twenty-Six. We
put two big tents end to end, with flaps up and the Amer-
ican and French flags flying from the pole. The fellows
worked like beavers rooting up red poppies, blue corn-
flowers, and white lilies, which we tied to the tent-poles
that were also adorned with bunches of cherries to be had
for the picking. Besides about fifty Americans, various
chaplains and military doctors were also present, while
the General Staff sent one of its captains. So it was a very
good party, with the ^'Marseillaise,'' "Star-Spangled
Banner," and decent weather thrown in. After the feast,
the General talked to the fellows and went through the

141

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

cantonment which was in apple-pie or(^er. The Boches,
I should add, supplied the fireworks, but did not get any
thing out of it in return.

This Fete marked the end of light work. A week later
the Section left Rar6court and moved up two miles nearer
the lines, going into quarters in a huge stone barn, which
the Boches had found the range of the day before. They
continually shelled the lane leading to it. Every night
the roads were alive with batteries moving up to the
forest and each day they were shelled farther back. The
men at the forward pastes no longer sat in their cars, but
as soon as they arrived scooted into dugouts. Calls for
wounded sometimes meant lying in a ditch by the road-
side until shelling stopped and the blesses could be brought
up. Sometimes a dead stop came with a jerk just before a
yawning crater where the road had been, and this meant
a long detour in order to reach the poste.

Rain — Preparing for the Attack

At this period it rained incessantly for three weeks and
the roads became swamps of clay spotted with shell-holes
and churned by the wheels of heavy guns. With the rain,
the Germans began throwing in gas-shells; but, never-
theless, the men at the front pastes drove steadily all
night, and the number of cars on call and at the sorting-
hospital had to be doubled. The roads in the forest were,
too, continuously under fire, and every other day a new
car returned with holes made by shell fragments. Yet no
man was wounded.

Daily for a week the cannonading grew more intense.
Dead horses and twisted camions were left along the road,
proofs of the disorder that reigned there. In the dust and
the darkness, under the crash of guns and through the
poison mist of gas, the drivers took their cars up and
brought the wounded back, while the mechanics, some-
times at headquarters, sometimes at the front, kept the
Fords in repair, replacing a wheel shot away here, and a
differential pierced by a shell fragment there, or righting

142

EVEN THIS — "POUR LA PATRIE .'"

THE CANAL NEAR MOXTORIGXOX

SECTION SIXTEEN

a car lying crumpled in the ditch where a charging cam-
ion had sent it. But the strain and suspense only grew.

Then, on August 20, the attack came. Our Division
was at the extreme left, its r61e being principally of an
artillery nature. But at Avocourt our infantry moved for-
ward, and through Avocourt the German prisoners began
coming in. The forest fairly rocked with the concussion of
French guns which each day lengthened their range ; and
each day, too, marked a further advance on our right.
And our work grew heavier; Bowie was wounded and
received the Croix de Guerre. A dugout two of our men
had just left was gouged out and the shelter for the piquet
cars destroyed. The " Tournant de la Mort'' deserved its
name. The *' Rendez-vous de Chasse^' became "Death
Hunting-Ground," and the " Carrefourde Sante'' was the
"Cross-Road of Desolation." Even the Section's head-
quarters were shelled and three Frenchmen killed there,
while avions made darkness a nightmare. Yet the cars
made their rounds as regularly as in the calm days of
early spring, made their rounds and pushed closer to the
lines, down into Avocourt itself, and out that long white
road where there was only wire between them and the
German lines.

But little by little conditions grew quieter, the shelling
less frequent, and fewer cars were called out. The change
was coming, and by mid-September the old Section began
to be revolutionized. Their enlistment completed, eleven
men left to go into other services or to return to Amer-
ica, and by the end of the month we had gone back en
repos near Vitry-le-Frangois.

No history of this Section would be complete without
mention of our foreign personnel, those first-class French-
men, Manuel the cook, Louis Coudray, Auburn, Dogorn,
and Blondet, the brigadiers Nogues and Boyer, and Grain
the postman. Nor shall we ever forget our French officer.
Second Lieutenant Delaballe, and the marechaux des
logis, Bardon, Job, and de Saussey.

To countless memories, of darkness and discomfort, of

143

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

danger and suffering and death, must be added those of
sunlight and the long summer twilight on Clermont Hill,
of section banquets and swimming in the Aire, of friend-
ships won and the gratification of work well done, marked
by the carrying of thousands of wounded. All this makes
the story of Section Sixteen mean volumes to us.

Franklin D. W. Glazier ^

1 Of Glastonbury, Connecticut; Yale, '04; joined the Field Service in
March, 19 17, serving as Chej of Section Sixteen; subsequently a First Lieu-
tenant of Engineers, U.S. Army, and Liaison Officer.

Notes of the Work

Rarecourt, June 24, 191 7
This sector of the front (the Argonne) which our Section
is serving is a comparatively quiet one. The men are
longing for more exciting work or a change. There are
two pastes at the front where we keep cars stationed day
and night, and three more where we are Hable to be called
at any time. Our cantonment is about eight miles from
the front, so we hear the guns plainly and see the star
shells at night. For sleeping quarters we have a standard
French cantonment of wooden barracks, while we eat in
a near-by house. Like most of the other sections, we think
we have the best French cook in the army.

The other day, two of our fellows had a rather exciting
experience at the thirty-six-hour poste, which is located
in the cellar of a ruined house in a village about a mile
from the lines. The vault of the cellar is well made, and,
having been strengthened by the addition of about four
feet of stones, it would probably stand even a "155."
These two fellows started out for a short walk about the
town, when, having explored the deserted houses to their
satisfaction, they sat down on a concrete watering- trough
in the centre of the village, where was a sign that read:
" Do not remain here because you are in plain sight of the
enemy." However, neither of them thought there was
any danger because the Germans were not in the habit of
shelling the town. For perhaps fifteen minutes they talked
and listened to the usual sounds of the front, such as the
departs and arrivees, when a French observation plane
flew overhead toward the German lines and high-explo-
sives began breaking around it. Suddenly they heard a
whirring, whistling sound which came toward them with
startling rapidity. Instinct told them to get close to the

145

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

ground; so they tried to get under the watering-trough.
The shell passed directly over their heads and exploded
down by the old mill, about two hundred feet away.
Without any remarks, they got up, made a dash for the
good old cellar, and there, in its security, heard thirty-five
shells land in the town, one of which fell squarely on the
roof of the ahri, but did no damage. When it was all over,
the fellows agreed that perhaps the Frenchman who put
up that "No Loitering" sign knew what he was about.

Rarecourt, July 5
Yesterday, being the Fourth, we had quite a celebration.
Tables were set for the following menu : ham sandwiches,
several kinds of cakes and cookies, champagne, beer,
cigars and cigarettes. This lunch took place at 4 p.m.
In the evening at 7 the Section had a wonderful dinner
in the tents. The menu included peach pie.

Bon Ahri, July 13
Last night the doctor with whom we eat seemed greatly
depressed and said that he had no appetite for supper. We
asked him what was the matter and he answered that he
had just assisted at the burial of ten Frenchmen, all of
whom he had treated and cared for. One would think that
an army surgeon would have come to regard death as a
matter of course, but underneath they must be just as
tender-hearted as the rest of us.

Grange-le-Comte, July 19
W^E have moved our Headquarters from the town where
we were to an old chateau situated about a mile from
here. The chateau proper is occupied by the General and
his staff, while we have the theatre. The seats have been
removed, but the stage is intact: a rather odd place to
live in. One of our fellows received a large box of shredded
wheat biscuits from home yesterday, so our breakfasts
are somewhat more sumptuous.

146

SECTION SIXTEEN

August 1 8
Our "quiet sector" has livened up quite a bit the past
few days. The artillery action increases daily and we are
having plenty of work and excitement. One fellow, last
night on duty at Bon Abri, had his car riddled by eclats,
which pierced the body in about twenty places. Also a
big shell exploded in the middle of the road, about three
hundred feet ahead of two of the fellows who were going
out to a poste, and stones and earth came down on the top
of the car, but hurt nobody. In consequence, the road
was blocked for several hours. Four of our fellows who
were out at one of the pastes also experienced a gas attack
last night. The Germans shot in a large number of gas-
shells and the woods were filled with the gas for several
hours.

August 26
Our Section was just on the edge of the recent French
attack at Mort Homme, and we had much work and ex-
citement. Several cars were hit, but no one was injured.
One of our cars brought in some wounded Germans. One
among their number spoke English, and the first thing he
wanted to know was, "How many Americans are there
in France?" During the attack the Germans tried to cut
the roads by using very large shells, which, when they hit,
did cut it effectively, making a hole about ten feet deep
and twenty feet across.

September 10
A FEW days ago the Germans bombarded the railroad
which runs within forty feet of our cantonment. Some of
the shells came very near us and we had to take to the
woods. To provide a shelter in case of such bombard-
ments, we have been ordered to dig some trenches in a
field near our barracks. It is hard work, but when we
get them finished, they will be a safe place during bom-
bardments. The Germans have a new long-range gun
opposite us, and they try it out every afternoon. Natu-

147

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

rally, the work on our trenches is progressing rapidly
under this new stimulus.

I have said that we are quartered in a theatre. Last
night we had a treat. The General, who lives next door,
has a moving-picture machine and eight reels of pictures.
He loaned them to us and we enjoyed a real movie. The
pictures were small, but very clear. All this seemed very
appropriate in a theatre.

Alpheus Edward Shaw ^

^ Of Wilmington, Vermont; Harvard, '17; served with Section Sixteen,
and as a Sergeant, U.S.A. Ambulance Service during the war. The above
are clippings from a personal journal.

<^ ,

Ill

Notes from Poste and en Repos

At Poste "Bon Abri," September, 191 7

Monday morning
Have been sitting here in my bunk for the last two hours
reading the letters and diary of Alan Seeger. The French
cannonade is exceptionally heavy for this early morning
hour, and the earth gives a terrific shudder every half-
minute as the neighboring batteries of " 155's " send off
their quota of death and destruction to the Boche. The
arrives are not very frequent, but from time to time we
hear the weird shriek of a "150" as it comes whistling
over our heads and its dull roar as it bursts around the
Carrefour de Sante. . . .

Dejeuner came to interrupt my morning entry — and
then one of the brancardiers and I exchanged French and
English lessons until it was time to depart with a load of
malades. I am finding enough well-educated men among
the brancardiers so that I can continue my work in pro-
nunciation.

Abri at Camp Dervin — Jeudi
I WANTED to write a little last night, but we are not al-
lowed to have lights out of doors in spite of the seclusion
of the abri on this sheltered side of the hill. Inside of the
abri there Is only room for eight men, four brancardiers
and four ambulanciers, to stretch themselves on their
bunks si plein des puces. Downing and I stayed here on
this little earth terrace talking far into the night. I had a
wild desire to sleep out, the night was so beautiful ; how-
ever, on account of the danger from gas attacks I com-
promised by spreading my blanket-roll here and gazing
up through the trees while we talked. I was reminded of
some of my idyllic nights In the pine grove on the banks

149

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

of the Piscataqua. But periodic disillusionment came
as the " 155's " at the base of the hill sent an occasional
shell over our heads, screaming into the night.

After dinner I set off to gain the ohservatoire and see
some of the enemy country. After following a bewilder-
ing, winding line of trenches and wire entanglements
along the crest of the hill, I finally arrived and was cor-
dially shown around by the poilus there. Through a pair
of periscope glasses which were carefully concealed by
the camouflage, I could see the immense clouds of dust
raised as our shells arrived from time to time. Through
another glass I saw the ruined village of Montfaucon,
and the tree observatory which was being shelled. A large
road which ran along in full view was completely torn up
by shell-holes. A careful scrutiny of the map which was
suspended at one side gave me a more intimate acquaint-
ance with the exact locations of the trenches on 304.

Grange-le-Comte — Sunday evening
We are to go back en repos Wednesday. The last two
nights have been very chilly. Every man in the canton-
ment suffered more or less from the cold. Yesterday eve-
ning the new regiments which are to relieve the Division
were filing up the road into the yard. What a slaughter
there would have been had a few Boche planes sauntered

by.

We were routed out this evening by the sound of falling
bombs, but the airplanes have passed over now, and seem
to have gone farther inland or toward the hospitals and
railway stations. All the fellows here fled to the trenches
and abris. I stayed out by the trench long enough to
watch the explosions of anti-aircraft shells and the flare
caused by the bombs as they struck. This is a weird,
damned business of war.

James H. Lewis ^

1 Of Eastport, Maine; Harvard, 'l8; joined Section Sixteen in April,
1917; later in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. These are extracts from an un-
published diary.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

From November 4 until December 19, Section Sixteen (U.S.
634) continued work in the Verdun sector, being cantoned
at Houdainville, and having postes at Citerne Marceau, La
Source, and Poste d'Alsace (Carriere Sud). It was here that the
car driven by Kendall was hit by shrapnel, and Kendall in-
jured, but not seriously. Following this came repos at Triau-
court. From the 19th until the 24th of January, the Section was
attached to the 3d Division and worked Hill 304 in the Mort
Homme sector. Its cantonment was Jub^court, and the postes
were Esnes and Montzeville.

On January 25 began a repos at Ligny-en-Barrois. On Febru-
ary 18, however, the Section returned to the front with its old
Division, serving in the Bois d'Avocourt sector until April 2.
The cantonment was Rarecourt; the postes were P4 and P2,
Formont and Avocourt. During the height of the Somme de-
fensive the 3d Division took part in holding a sector near La
Faloise from April 28 until August 11. It was in this town that
the Section was cantoned. It was later shelled out of the town,
and camped in the woods. Bombing was frequent. The Section
served postes at Ainval and Thory, and was cited for its work
here. The 3d Division took part in the opening of the allied
offensive, when the British and French attacked in liaison. The
Section's cantonment was at La Faloise, and the postes Thory,
Brache, Aubvillers, and Sauvillers.

The Section then moved to the Saint-Mihiel region, being
held as a reserve for the American forces at Vanault-les-Dames.
It then proceeded to take part in the Champagne-Argonne
offensive, being attached to the 53d French Division. It was in
this sector from October 15 to October 31. The 53d Division
was made up of two French regiments and two regiments of
Czecho-Slovaks, former Austrian soldiers, and volunteers now
for the French cause. They were fine fighters and suffered very
heavy losses. The Section's cantonment during this time was in
a field near Bourcq, and the postes were Vrizy, Grivy, and
Conde-lez-Vouziers. During the latter part of this offensive in
the Champagne, the Section cantonment was at Jonchery-sur-
Vesle, with postes at Pevy and Hermonville.

151

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

The Section, after the close of the Champagne-Argonne-
Meuse offensive on November i, entrained for the Vosges,
where its Division was due to take part in the coming Franco-
American Metz-Lorraine drive. The Section convoyed to Vit-
tel, the famous peace-time watering-place. It was here when
the Armistice was signed. It soon took part in the advance of
the French Army of Occupation, going into Lorraine by way of
Metz and Thionville. During its stay in Germany it was can-
toned at Saarbriicken, Saint-Ingbert, Kaiserslautern, and
Kirchheimbolander. It was at this town that it was relieved on
March 7, 1919, by S.S.U. 619, and, leaving its cars there, pro-
ceeded to the U.S.A. A.S. Base Camp, en route for VAmerique.

Marshal G. Penfield ^

^ Of Fulton, New York; Cornell, '19; served in Section Seventy for two
months, and, on enlisting in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service, with Section
Sixteen.

Section Seventeen

THE STORY TOLD BY

I af II. James W. D. Seymour

III. Basil K. Neftel

IV. Carleton Fay Wright

SUMMARY

Section Seventeen left Paris for the front on April 30, 1917.
On May 10 it found itself at Vadelaincourt in the Verdun sec-
tor, and on the 3d of June left for Jub^court, passing the months
of June and July on the Meuse front. A short repos was spent
at Conde-en-Barrois in the early part of August. On the 14th
of the month the Section arrived at Ville-sur-Cousances, near
the Meuse, where it remained until September. It then went to
Mesnil-sur-Oger, near Epernay, in the Champagne district,
making a brief stay, thereafter going to Mourmelon-le-Grand
and the Champagne front, in the region of the Mounts, where
it continued as Section Six-Thirty-Five.

Section Seventeen

Their manners, their ways of expressing themselves,
Their courage, which nothing can quench —
The hum.anest lot that were ever begot —
Thank God, we have been with the French!

Lansing Warren

En Convoi

April of 191 7 saw the formation, at rue Raynouard, of
Section Seventeen, and its departure for the field. As
Chef came an old Section Eight man, Neftel, forever to
be known as "Nefty." From all the ends of the States
were gathered the members of the new group, from
Nevada to Virginia, from Texas to New England. Their
most common bond withal was that they sailed from
home, the most of them, on St. Patrick's Day and that
they were "all in it" before we declared war. The twenty
ambulances were a memorial to Dr. Charles Goddard
Weld, of Boston.

In those days a banquet sped each new section to its
work; and there in the dining-hall at the " farewell- to-
Paris" feast were assembled all those who came to know

155

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

one another so completely and well In the months to
follow. There the "Sarge" (or French Sergeant), who
fed us and cared for us so long and faithfully, became a
fundamental part of the Section. There Mr. Andrew
welcomed Seventeen to the rolls of the old Service. There
began the history of our "Seventeen Family."

Convois! At the very word come trooping memories
of hosts of roads, and Incidents unnumbered stir again
to life — the trail of the scuttling blue-gray column that
led always ahead, onward, around a turning into the un-
known. It was afternoon when the Section finally got
under way on its first jaunt through the crowded streets
of Paris. Trouble of a light-hearted sort began with the
first Interruptions of the city's traffic. Cars took wrong
turnings, streams of vehicles cut in between, drivers got
turned all about, and when the gates were reached there
remained but a handful of the original score. Lost in
Paris! And night was hurrying down. There followed
wild hours of weird search, when Chef and French Lieu-
tenant and "Sarge" drove furiously about seeking the
strayed ones. Policemen, questioned, admitted they had
seen ambulances pass.

"Going which way?"

''Lei, Id,, /d! " — In all directions, with a comprehensive
French flourish of hand and whisker.

Finally, singly and in pairs, the cars were rounded up,
but not until late dusk. So the encampment was made
just outside the walls, and Seventeen spent Its first night
in the open under the stars, in the public park at Pantln.

The first real day of convoy followed — perfect in
weather and In a smooth-running trip to Vertus, where,
dusty, and In the darkening twilight, we saw, under the
magic of "Sarge's" voice and hand and eye, spring up a
dining-place, and a meal of wonderment take form : tired
men and dirty ate of luscious "steak and French fried,"
in the cool of the night with gleaming yellow lamplight,
and the already home-like Fords near by.

From Vertus the Section ambled to Bar-le-Duc

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through the sumptuously verdant countryside of France,
and thence by easy stages came to the trees and green
shade of Guerpont, where tents were raised, shadow-
flecked under the trees, and meals were served in the
glass summer-house of the chateau. It was then that our
history became one with that of the 97th Division of
Infantry. There we first came to know our rakish 59th
Alpine Chasseurs, and the friendly 303d, whose regimen-
tal march is an unending memory. There, too. General
Lajaille first inspected his new ambulance section and
puffed us up with kindly words of interest and faith ; and
for a week the Section remained reposefully in the gloam-
ing of the woods by the stream.

Vadelaincourt — Evacuations

Thereafter came the move to Vadelaincourt, close by
the aviation field, where bombings became of almost
nightly occurrence, and where the Section grew accus-
tomed to spending "the top of the evening" on its back
in ditches watching the sparkle of the shrapnel and the
signals spume into the sky. It became a mere nothing to
tell a pilot's age and hair color by the rhythm of his
motor! As yet there had been nothing of pastes and shell-
torn highways — evacuation work had been the Section's
only duty. The days trailed goldenly by. Soccer against
a very fine aviators' team spurred our members almost
to practice; but when two weeks' quarantine within the
hedged limits of camp descended on us, because of a
Frenchman's illness, the monotony weighed heavily on
every one.

On the Meuse — Jubecourt

From Vadelaincourt the Section went to Jubecourt, the
village of the rmW- epicerie, where dwelt the two friendly
maidens, Abijah and Georgette, who cooked us tarts and
taught us French.

For two long months Seventeen was quartered there
on the Meuse, just outside our straggling little impov-

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erished village of dull-red tiles and musty-plastered walls.
On a steep green hillside, reached by a home-made,
precariously dipping driveway, squatted the two tents
that were our abode through June and July — a hillside
all aglitter with poppies and blue flowers, and a French
version of "Queen Anne's lace." Before us the ground
sloped away to a springy meadow-flat, through the
marshy centre of which chuckled the sleepy Cousances
River, the little stream that meandered its absurd,
small, winding way from sad Ville-sur-Cousances, where
Harmon Craig ^ lies so alone, to give up all its energy,
after cascading over the old milldam, in the shallow by
the road, and finally to disappear and lose itself under
the Jub^court bridge.

In its course it served many ends. By a bend the water
flowed swift and deep among the reeds to form a swim-
ming-hole; luscious its cooling after the welter of the
roads, sweet its mystery under a golden moon after a day
when earth itself seemed to pant a little at the warmth.
Broadening a mite, the stream gave place for watering
of tired army horses, a grateful interrupting of the drag-
ging haul of ammunition and supplies. Then came the
reach that never lacked for kneeling soldiers, scrubbing
and rinsing their weird clothing — immensely long-
tailed shirts; stomach-winding cloths of vivid hue; long,
baggy, gay-colored calegons, string-tied at the bottom.
Or here they bathed their heads and hands, raising
tanned, cheery faces to sputter us a greeting through the
suds. Stumpy trees, knee-deep in the water, acted as
dressing-tables with bits of mirror stuck there to aid
the luxuries of the toilet. The current seemed to pause
here in friendliness before it gushed over the dam and
opened into a washing-place for horses, carts, and ambu-
lances.

Above the tents the ofiicers' "chateau," a hut with
leaky tin roof, topped the rise, and below under a blos-
soming bank were the atelier shed and the shack which

* Harmon B. Craig, of Section Two, killed by a shell July 15, 1917.

SECTION SEVENTEEN

served triply as kitchen, banquet-hall, and French staff
barracks.

Sharply up out of Jubecourt circled the street, to be-
come our road toward the front as it curved, and rose,
and fell to Brocourt, over the upland fields that seemed
forever golden. Past the triage hospital, down through
the hillside town it wound into a valley, then up abruptly
again onto the top of the world. Rapidly it went now
past clumps of woods, over the open country, until it
paused on the steep, looking down on wrecked and torn
R6cicourt. Slowly the road spiralled down into what re-
mained of the village, turned several tumbled corners,
crossed a muddy stream on an age-old stone bridge, and
came to a riven barn that hid our cars by day from prying
avion eyes. A breathing space there, in the bleak little
room that served as our abode ; up some stone steps, low
raftered, and blackened with smoke. There was the cup-
board door graven with the names of those who had used
the room, there the chimney under which we brewed so
many marmites of chocolate in the cold, gray dawns. An
opening, once a window, led to a space, littered with
breakage from houses roundabouts, where sank our
dank, dark ahri (which we never used). And all about
grew riotous wild pink roses and bloody poppies.

The Postes

On went the road then, up, after a passing bow to the
wide Verdun-Metz highway, gleaming white away to the
horizon, along the back of a hill with a big-gun emplace-
ment building under a screen of camouflage below, until
of a sudden the way dodged down into the black woods
where cliff-dweller poilu camps abounded, and woods
clung to its sides, until the postes were reached. A sector
of woods and gloom it was, where shells lit unseen and
snarling among the tree-trunks, or where one heard the
spatter of eclats among distant leaves and could not tell
comfortingly the exact whereabouts of the incomers.
"The Apple Tree Road," across a clearing, bent about

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Ferrier's Farm, a mere jumble of stone and masonry.
That road was an unloved spot. Caissons hurried their
uttermost to reach the wooded lumpy rise beyond it, and
up that rise the Fords must needs crawl toilsomely, and
never did automobile travel more slowly. Artillery dug-
outs edged the hill, tantalizingly suggesting refuge that
we could not seek. In the valley one found damp mists
at night that swirled like a wavering, pale sea; and gas
also at times. Poste 3 lay beyond at a wicked corner, a
cruel road of ruts, that harbored much gas and was
a favorite lighting-place for shells. Now we were among
the close-strung batteries — spitting "75's" and grunting
"i2o's." At night, shafts of flame seemed to crackle and
sear one's ears, like harsh, darting tongues. Then came
Poste 2, the relay poste, a place of calm and tall trees in
early June; but from the moment of the first attack on
to the end, a cluttered existence of explosions, clattering
eclats, and gruesomeness.

Impressions

Great trees reared high above the ahris which clustered
familiarly about the central abode of the Medecin
Aide-Major. A deep hole was the kitchen, fragrant with
wood smoke and cookery smells, and blackened and
scorched within. Luscious in weary times the tea that
came from the dark mouth of it, even without the famed
eau de vie, and the weird brews of its ex-sailor inhabitant,
the cook dubbed "Fritz" by his ever good-natured bran-
cardier comrades. Near by was the tin-rocfed little shack
walled with pine boughs which served as dining-room,
with its greasy worn board and grimy benches. There
were many friendships formed between us and our hran-
cardiers about that table through the long, soft sunsets.
Priests many of them were, and the bravest, most selfless
little men in the world. None of war's glory theirs, none
of its zest, but all the danger of it, all of its most awful
sights, all the vague horrors of its hell. Each evening a
little quiet group would start out, trundling their bran-

160

l>iviiig-lt()<)iii at •' 21 '

The Courtyard (iate of 21 Kue Raynouard
HOME IN FRANCE

SECTION SEVENTEEN

card carriers or bearing folded brancards on their tired,
stooped shoulders, down the gloomy road toward the
star-shells — these humble, little, gray-grizzled, calm-
faced old men, toward the vivid blossoming of the shell
flowers and fallen, bloodied fruit. Gentle their hands as a
mother's, tender and soft their voices murmuring prayers
to comfort dying men; everlastingly faithful and kindly,
healing the deepest wounds of the soul. Rich is their
service, for at last their faith brings great good com-
fort and content to these, God's hero-children, the sol-
diers of France.

Almost hidden in the thick underbrush near by was
the little cemetery, roughly fenced and reverently, though
of necessity rudely, tended. Sunlit mornings, with birds
trilling among the boughs, and patches of clear sky quiv-
ering through the foliage, one could glimpse the flash, so
gay and brave and piteous, of the tricolor discs on the
simple crosses, and a casque, perhaps, lying on a bare
mound, or a torn, pitiful, graying kepi. Sweet wild rasp-
berries grew in dew-decked profusion close up to its very
gate, while not a hundred metres away a battery squat-
ted, hidden safely, and shivered the song of life with its
shrieking. For a long time, until the tops of our high
trees were combed away, shells from the battery would
burst against the branches above the poste and wound.
It was one of the inevitable things of woodland warfare.

Our sleeping-place was that of the brancardiers and
blesses, and the assembly room of the rat tribe — an abri
of some dozen double-decker, wire-bottomed bunks
filled with straw, and other things. A lantern hung
gleaming from the corrugated roof, except when its flame
was jolted out by arrivees. There one would lie at night,
wondering; with a gassed man gasping and choking be-
low, the lamp turned down to a meagre pin-point, the
tired snore of brancardiers in one's ears, rats scuttling
about and over one, and the crash and crunch of guns
and shells outside under the stars. There would come a
telephone tinkle and one stumbled out into the coolness

i6i

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to crank up and take a call. Jolting hurriedly off to one
of the advanced pastes, trying to memorize the position
of new, bumping shell-holes to be dodged in returning, try-
ing to make quick time ; and swinging down into the bare
fields toward Copinard, perhaps, one could see, when
fusees eclair antes sprang up, the surge and eddy of smoke
clouds about the trenches, while the staccato of mitrail-
leuses sounded all around, the drone of shells far overhead,
and the grumble-mumble of torpilles and grenades. Just a
hole dug into the hither side of a hummock and a rough
roof support with an open space before it was Copinard,
our paste; and in one's heart one cursed the uneven road
back, as one tried to slide gently into the car the moaning,
swathed bundle on its stretcher. The jiche was tucked
into a pocket, the tail-board closed as softly as possible,
then off once more, this time with all the care in the
world — for every jounce escaped, every shell-pit clearly
skirted, meant an inner paean of joy; every jolt and shock
hurt like a flame on a bare, tortured nerve, for thought
of the hlesse within. And when you had him finally at
the triage, his attempt at a smile and thanks, if he were
conscious, or if not, the set, gray pain of the unmoving
face, made one feel little and humble, and grateful to be
serving.

It seemed with one's load an unending trip back
through the black woods. Eyes played queer tricks ; each
shadow clump became a camion, each darker bit of road a
caisson ; and roads lost all resemblance to their true selves,
became weird ghosts of their daylight realities. Men and
horses popped up noiselessly out of nowhere at one's
very mud-guards — or else one thought they did, jammed
on brakes, and found a clear road running on ahead.
Queer sounds and smells rose up all about out of the
dark, and an odor that was a mixture of dead things and
things growing, of damp earth and powder bite, of vague
gas — a smell in fact that means nothing in all the world
except night on the crowded roads close to the lines, with
the stir of unseen life and death around one.

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SECTION SEVENTEEN

Tranquillity and Preparation

So the Section was taken from its month-long repos in the
field and plunked down in this heavily- wooded, many-
roaded sector close to the Argonne. The sector's centre
was Recicourt, with radiating pastes at Avocourt, in the
Forest of Hesse, and Copinard beyond. Wild were the
night-adventures of those first few weeks in the maze of
black woodland ways and the befuddling up and down
country, when cars spent long nights wandering on for-
bidden roads In zealous efforts to find themselves. Far
did the Section range through error before the knack of
picking the right turns became a second nature. But
gradually the newness wore away in the quiet of the
tranquil region. Driving around shell-holes and finding
the smoothest paths blindly, by instinct, became a mere
routine, and only then, it seemed, did there begin to be
real activity.

Activity of a warring kind began really the third week
of June; the time before was preparation. Up to then
there had been cannonading of sorts, and a growing tense-
ness and excitement behind the llnfes. Wires were strung
thickly along the branches beside the roads, with their
bits of colored cloth attached to distinguish one from an-
other. New wagon tracks were levelled overnight to make
short cuts for ammunition trains. Troops began to arrive
in ever-increasing numbers. Piles of shells grew up in un-
expected places along the wayside and disappeared again
in a twinkling Into the mystery of the dark woods. There
were guns moving up every night, like noisy shadows
along the starlit roads and unseen clankings and rattllngs
with heavy-breathing horses in the blackness. Into Jube-
court came troops upon troops; camions were forever
swirling up, laden, or hustling back empty, while dust
rose stifling In the hot weather, and mud slopped dismally
in the wet. Nothing was quiet. There was always a stir,
a bustle, a constant flexing of the sinews of war which
lent a tremor of expectancy. Rumors sped up and down,

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

and queerly enough the spirits of Seventeen took a sud-
den leap, rose higher with every wilder utterance. All the
days of waiting, all the old rumors that had faded into
nothing, were forgotten, for there was work looming big
at hand, and the Section was glad.

Wonderful and Terrible Days

June 28 was a blue-and-gold day. The sky seemed to
have receded a myriad miles away to become a sapphire
brilliancy of space. Boche planes came over. All across
the shining sky would arch the puffs of soft white as the
anti-aircraft guns reached for the skimming, sun- touched
shape. In the afternoon a plane came to circle directly
over the village, back and forth, round and round. A
regiment was trudging up the steep hill out of Jubecourt
in the sweltering sun. Then a Frenchman slanted up to
do battle, and the spatter of the machine guns came
down to us. Seventeen, "rooting" as at a football game,
was spread over the hillside craning its several necks. Sud-
denly came a spume of earth by the church, a grunting
shock and a whistle. For a moment it did n't dawn on the
mind that it was not' the whistle of a bomb. A moment
later, back of our camp, came another upheaval on the
open hillside . Then we realized what was happening —
Jubecourt, our home village, was being shelled ; and with
terrifying precision they achieved the range. The next
shell struck the road, in the centre of the column of little
blue men, and it seemed an age before the stream of
troops left the road and took semi-shelter in the ditches.
Again shells came to our fields, at three-minute intervals ;
now one could catch the thump of the gun, then see the
spout of earth and smoke, with accompanying whistle
and crash. They reached the town then regularly. Tiles
clattered down in tinkling cascades, walls tumbled
hollowly, debris shot into the air, sickening cries came,
and smoke of burning buildings hovered over the red roofs.
It was time for the relief to leave for the poste. So Hiis
and Nutt drove out through the town and crawled up the

164

SECTION SEVENTEEN

road out of it, with the expectation of more shells in
their path. It was then, too, that Coulter, who had been
washing his car by the mill, dressed only in his bathing-
suit and casque, splashed into town with his ambulance,
and picked up the wounded from the streets. And some-
how, against all French regulations, other cars of ours
found themselves working there, unordered, among the
tumbling walls and swirling haze. The meadow now
was receiving its share of shells. Richards received
a plentiful shower bath of mud and pebbles, when he
crossed into the village afoot to get the cars out of
the street. For hours shells came in. Then they ceased,
and rain began to come down, sadly retarding the
work of the souvenir-hunting members of the Section
who were already grubbing for shell-noses. Things
seemed about to happen. But it rained softly all night;
only the rumble of the guns grew stronger and more
angry every minute.

The 29th dawned clear, and the guns thrashed unceas-
ingly all day. The roads and woods were being sprayed
with metal. Every car was called out, and with dusk
came the first "big-show" night of the Section. Gas was
thick on the roads in the woods. The shivering glare
of the " 75's " was like a yellow sheet lightning among the
trees. Shells were exploding continually with their shat-
tering concussion. Roads that had once been friendly
became black pits of hate, seared with the wicked sparks
of bursting ohus. Louder and louder came the surf-like
roar and beat rolling up to us from the trenches, where
attack and counter-attack swirled in the misty night lit
by gun-flash and shell-glare.

The whole Section served that night, and on through
the day following. It was a weird time — ^the dark, stink-
ing with gas, streams of wounded, panting engines, moans,
and the eternal flicker of the echoing cannon. A Boche
attack had made slight gain around "304," and a fierce
counter-attack by the French had ended the affair. Two
of the Section's extra hands served that night with the

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

hrancardiers — Lewis ^ and Heywood. They went out
into the sweating, reeling darkness and helped with
their souls where help was needed sorely. Finally came
dawn, and a comparative quiet near the trenches, though
the guns and explosions roundabout us went on. And
our labors were just commencing, for it is the day which
follows such a night that brings the ambulance its more
and more sickening load.

So it ran on into July — ever preparing for bigger
things, and shelling in the woods, which the Boches were
combing to seek out French batteries and to cripple the
supply lines. But the batteries increased in number
daily, and shell-holes in the roads were smoothed over
within the hour.

The French Lieutenant — The Glorious Fourth

In Jubdcourt we were joined by Lieutenant d'Halloy;
and knowing him came to mean the world to us of his
"Seventeen family." Duty and utter devotion to ideals
were his faith. Of the kindest and cleanest of hearts, un-
selfish to the ultimate degree, he gave himself entirely to
the Section, and by so giving he made us, every one, com-
pletely his. He had but to speak and we had followed him
to earth's end. Long after star-shells have faded from our
memories and we have forgotten the cannon language,
we shall remember, and the thought will be a cleansing,
bright flame — that man of as clear and clean a spirit
as ever glowed in France's dark war night.

On July 4 came a mighty banquet with speeches of
note by every one, including the French mechanic, and
hoary recitations that were well-nigh ritual with the
Section. Later, Section Sixteen, at Rar^court, was our
host for a concert and "light refreshment" fete. That was
our American Day, and fittingly our next celebration
was for France. On the eve of Bastille Day we took part

1 Stephenson Paul Lewis, of East Cleveland, Ohio; Wisconsin, '17;
served in Section Seventeen until September, 1917; later a Second Lieu-
tenant in U.S. Artillery. Killed in action, October 31, 1918.

166

SECTION SEVENTEEN

in the high jinks of the 87th Regiment, a parade through
the village on the heels of their echoing band, and a
riotous dance in the little square. We bore on shoulders
our little aspirant chum, R6n6 Huree, who was killed in
the following attack. Next morning the regiment band,
having greeted their Colonel, marched to our tent door
and serenaded us most convincingly and flatteringly,
even considering what they did to "The Star-Spangled
Banner." Pleased as kids on Christmas, were the musi-
cians when decorated with little crepe paper American
flags from our stock. In fact, most of the regiment sought
them as souvenirs, and, as long as the supply lasted, were
supplied. That afternoon saw a gala soccer game with
the regimental team. Lieutenant d 'Halloy was our goal-
tender, every one played ferociously, yet we were
friends, and the band blared gayly between halves. At
the end, hurried a little as the regiment had to prepare
for their departure to the lines, champagne was drunk in
honor of the day, the regiment, the game, and the attack
to come. Then into the dusk the friendly regiment
marched off to their camions, with laughter and song on
their lips, off to the trenches! — bearing in their helmets
or gun muzzles our little flags. And more, they carried
them gallantly in the attack that captured Hill 304 on
July 17. It was toward that attack that the months of
anticipation led, and more and more the excitement grew
as the day neared.

The Thrill of the Attack — Conde-en-Barrois

Then the attack crashed forth in the misty morn, and
our troops went forward. There seemed an electric thrill
through the woods. Boche prisoners were ■ massed in
wonderlng-eyed, stolid groups, and one felt the glad note
of success in the voices of the poilus on the road. Even
the blesses seemed to be chuckling with the zest of victory.
It was about that time that Porritt's ambulance rolled
over one night in the ditch, and his assis load were forced
to right his car for him, after which his blesses climbed

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back inside and were carried to the hospital. Also one night
Bigelow ^ stopped on the Avocourt Hill to tighten up his
low speed, regardless of the crashing shells and impreca-
tions of his worried wounded, with the soaring star-shells
glaring angrily down on his unconcern. And in those
woodland wilds "Nefty" and the "Lieut" were gassed,
yet stayed on to work beside us. Then our comrade and
neighbor, Harmon Craig was snatched out of the summer
world all in a cruel moment that he met so wondrously
well.

On July 24, the Ninety-Seventh "went out." We tore
down our tents, packed up our homes, and fled over sun-
lit roads to Conde-en-Barrois where we enjoyed three
rich weeks of reserve. It was an Indian summer time of
ripening fields and orchards, of warmth and intermittent
sun and shower. We came to know Bar-le-Duc then,
astraddle the Ornain in its soft, green-velvet valley, and
news reached our long white wooden barracks of the first
citations, given us at Chardogne. "Nefty" received his
first with us, and McMurray and Overstreet theirs. Then
the Medecin Principal and our good friend, INIonsieur
Lacoste, the Medecin Chef, came back with us to a right
royal celebrative meal.

Four new men joined us there, and Coulter left to
enter upon work with the Paris staff. Thus came the first
germs of the breaking-up. Merry were the days, and fat-
tening the meals. At Genicourt near by, our 59th Chas-
seurs trimmed us in a riotous soccer game wherein our
old friend Sergeant-Major Maurice, athlete and violinist,
received a bump on the knee in colliding with "Rouge"
Foster, that laid him up for two months, and made soccer
with the Americans defendu for the battalion. There
came restless rumors to us at Conde to the effect that
never before had our General had such artillery massed

1 Donald Asa Bigelow, of Colchester, Connecticut; served in the Field
Service with Section Seventeen from its formation; joined the U.S. Avia-
tion; subsequently a First Lieutenant; killed in an aeroplane accident,
June 3, 1918,

168

SECTION SEVENTEEN

as was in our old sector, that a crisis was nearing, and that
we were going back to serve again near Avocourt. Sud-
denly came something definite in a call for six cars to help
Section Twenty-Nine. So we drew lots, and the lucky
ones jeered at those who had to idle in our barracks. They
slaved for days and nights, as did a second six who re-
lieved them. Then came the order to move up, destina-
tion and kind of work unknown. But it was good to be
under way, to be on the road once more.

On the Edge of the Battle of Verdun

We left toward dusk on August 14. Back we sallied to
homelike Ville-sur-Cousances, and up on to a hill-crest
beside the Rampont road. The sky "dreened" rain while
the Section made camp that night. Rain! And soggy
tents to put up before a chance to sleep, and cars to go
on duty at six next morning, not to mention the tired
men who had arrived from lending Section Thirty-One a
hand in our olden woods for a wild day or two. We prayed
for warmth and clear weather, but, later, when the sun
came hot and dust choked our very souls, we longed for
rain again; and plenty we had of both — of rain, dreary
mud, and weary cold, and, in the next hour, of sun,
stifling dust, and sweltering heat. Besides, the whole
Section was jammed into the two tents — bureau, bag-
gage, cuisine, dining-room, everything — a jumble of all
known petty trials and tribulations. Also there was work,
two weeks of continuous driving. The little Fords of the
Section had to evacuate the entire Brocourt triage for
two big-car sections which worked our sector and the
neighboring one. Curses a-many were heaped on the
luck that made things happen so, for the Second Battle
of Verdun was on, and we who had lived for it through
June and July saw only the edges of it in August. But
labor there was in profusion for every one.

All cars worked all the time. One slept by snatches
when one could, wherever one chanced to be, and ate
spasmodically of what happened along, or went unfed;

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and always mud upon mud, or dust thick on dust. Day
after day, night after night, of loading blesses in one's car,
of tearing along swirling, crowded roads, dodging between
camions and around swaying caissons, sliding past trudg-
ing lines of Boche prisoners in sunset dust-clouds, on and
ever on, for the hospitals were far away. Then to unload
the poor groaning burden into the cool, spacious salles de
triage at the various places — Fleury or Froidos, Ville or
Rarecourt; and hurriedly to crank up and sag wearily,
hastily back to take another trip and another load and
yet another — to keep the current of evacuation flowing
easily and rapidly.

None of the Section will forget the arching-roofed
tent at Brocourt, through which the blesses streamed into
our cars and hands — the great gloom, the crowded
assis and twisting couches^ the smell of antiseptics and
drying blood, the whimper of rain on the canvas or the
whisper of wind fluttering in under the curtained door-
ways; nor that weird night when Vadelaincourt was
bombed and the glare rode red across the star-bright sky,
when Boche planes snored and hurried above us through
the darkness with searchlights reaching vainly after them.
That night Hiis led a convoy of ambulances who did not
know the roads from the burning hospital — from Vade-
laincourt to Fleury.

To THE Champagne

Finally the attack was over, and on the 30th of the
month the Section dug its effects out of the mud and
dust and set happy wheels along the main highway to-
ward Champagne, past Chalons, and into the land of
vineyards. Near Avize some bright-roofed houses cluster
on the hillside — Mesnil-sur-Oger, the mythical Oger
which naked eye has yet to find. There the Section washed
away the stains of the Meuse days, and there came the
first rumblings of coming militarization, which at last
did come. The service terms of most of the men were at
an end; the ways of other services seemed to lead more

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SECTION SEVENTEEN

strenuous, more invitingly precarious along the course of
war, and they beckoned the spirits of the old Section. Be-
yond lay a vague time of fighting, and Seventeen, that
had come a-sailing to France for service before its coun-
try made the war her own, chafed at the pictured re-
straint of old work with new ways. Then came the last
great " party " on the eve of departure of the first to leave.
A little, low cafe room, crowded with faded field Serv-
ice coats, an oval, oil-clothed table bearing the wine of
the countryside, and roundabout the faces that were
turning away from the known and settled, and brightening
eagerly as they looked ahead into the unguessed and un-
tried, a group that world winds were so soon to scatter
apart, to separate, to waft to strange places. And com-
radeship was deep and good and strong. Toasts were
pledged to the old Service and to the freedom of it — its
labors and friendships and sorrows, but most of all its
joys ; and each man had a tightening cord in his heart and
a twitch in his throat that night for the Service he was
leaving, and his friends that he must lose, and for the
Section that had been home and more than home so
long in a dear stranger land.

James W. D. Seymour*

* Of New York City; Harvard, '17; served with Section Seventeen from
June, 19 17; later was a First Lieutenant, U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

POILUS AND AmBULANCIERS

Foret de Hesse, before Recicourt
where wild raspberries are thick
5 p.m., Tuesday, July lo

I'm sitting on a bunk in the abri at Poste 2. Have been
here since something after three. Just now have entered
eight poilus, muddy and gray-toned. French batteries of
"75's" very near at hand are shivering our ears and shak-
ing the ground in a terrific bombardment. They are aim-
ing low. Their shells slip over our heads and clip leaves
and twigs from the trees about the poste.

We have been ordered to remain in the abri because
numbers of the shells explode in striking the tree-tops.
As a result, Rowley's car has a hole — tiny, it is true —
but a veritable hole torn in one side, and Garner's car (I
came up with him) has a hole on the top near the back,
and the adjustable top over the driver's seat had one of
its supports fractured and a hole ripped in the cloth.
Moreover, one of the brancardiers was wounded in the
chest by a piece of shrapnel and was taken in by McMur-
ray, after the lieutenant here and the Medecin Division-
naire had dressed his wound.

Accidents

It was queer that first shell which broke over my head.
Rowley had told of their breaking earlier in the afternoon
before he left. We were waiting about. I had wandered
off toward the road munching a bit of chocolate (bought
at the cooperative militaire of Recicourt), and the "75's"
were cracking uncomfortably. Suddenly came a louder
crash, and perhaps six feet away a leafy twig fell to the
ground. I picked it up and moved toward Mac and Gar-
ner to make some remark of a laughing sort. Then I saw
a brancardier supporting one of his comrades toward the

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big abri from the direction of the eating-shack. It dawned
on me slowly and unbelievably that the shrapnel —
French shells — were breaking near enough over us to
wound ; that this brancardier had been hit. He was hunched
forward, his hands gripped tight to his left chest, and his
face was gray, drawn ; there were surprise and terror in
his eyes. He was not saying anything, but he breathed
hard, and it was as if he hoped to hold life in by pressing
his hands in on his lungs.

A poilu came running in to say that his three comrades
were killed about one hundred fifty yards down the road.
The Medecin Lieutenant is down here now, and the man
whose comrades were killed, sits shaking on the steps
of the abri.

But the talk goes on as before. The Lieutenant just
asked me if it were my machine that was hit. I told him
it was Garner's, and he said, laughing a little wryly, ''Des

souvenirs y

The three morts are being brought into camp now.
Garner says he saw the four marching down the road not
twenty minutes ago. Now one sits very still on the stair,
and the three others are stiller yet. I 'm glad it was not a
French shell. There is an unfairness in its coming from
one's own guns. Our near "75's" are at it again after a
few minutes of quiet.

It was strange, when our brancardier was wounded,
the man with him shivered and shook like a leaf. Now
the brancardier s are going out to get those dead, from
the roadside, out from under the Boche shells. They are
grimy, ragged, little, oldish men, sad-faced and tired.

Blesses and Morts

McMuRRAY tells me many dead were brought in yester-
day. I think the "survivor" is asleep now, hunched up,
rifle upright between his knees, his boots slimy with rich
wet mud, while his head droops forward, heaving with
his slow breathing. I wonder if he dreams of a shell that
strikes, and comrades that fall — or is it of home?

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It is getting dusk. Some blesses — six at least — have
arrived. One says he is from Paris; goes en permission in
four days. He is dirty and ragged and irresistible. He
has on a buttonless shirt, wide open on a hairy chest, mud-
smeared, torn trousers, and straggly, draggled puttees.
As he readjusted his stomach-warming sash, he looked
down at himself and his mud-scow boots with a grimace,
then twinkled at me, "Le dernier cri de la mode.'' Some-
how it seemed superb — typical somehow of the French
poilu and his unquenchable humor.

Through the night, the three morts lie wrapped in
sheets and covered with green branches, beneath the
trees near the abri. They were pretty terribly messed up.
One only I could bring myself to look at, after glimpses of
raw flesh on the others; and nothing much remained of
him below the chest. His face was little and wizened, his
hair quite white, and gray. The Lieutenant squatted by
with pad and pencil while a brancardier straddled the
stretcher and went through the pockets of it that lay
there — a thimble, a pipe; some letters and a picture
blood-stained a little. The face was still, but one gory
hand was clenched in agony. The other white bundle was
lumpier and shorter than a man should be, — they say
he was shot to pieces.

Night Tragedies at the Poste

An abri at dusk, July
Following the bearded capitaine, who refused, on prin-
ciple, a brancard, and went down assis, although his leg
was horribly mauled, a blesse picked up down the road,
with wound undressed, was toted in on a stretcher. He
thought he was going to die. He said he could not breathe,
and he groaned. One brancardier ran for the Lieutenant,
another held the lamp close, others, sweating, stood about,
great gloomy shadows, while two others tore and cut
away his clothing to have a look at the wounds in his
chest. Right and left sides seemed riddled, though there
was not a great deal of blood. Still his chest appeared

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SECTION SEVENTEEN

distorted internally, and he kept groaning that it was
fini. He begged for something, and a brancardier was des-
patched to another abri for it. He was long in returning,
and the wounded man moaned and thrashed his arms
about.

I supposed they had sent for a quieting hypodermic;
but finally the brajicardier returned with a booklet and a
little jar. Then I noted that the brancardier, kneeling by
the blesse, had a tiny red heart, a bleeding heart, on his
casque — a priest. He rubbed a little something from the
jar on the man's forehead and muttered a few words
read from the book; and the blesse responded. "Extreme
unction" I guess it was, and "confession." After it, the
blesse was very quiet and peaceful. Of a sudden it came
over me ail of a heap that there was something back of
mere creeds if religion could bring such calm, where a
moment before was pain, racking pain. That low little
back hole, with the yellow, smelly lamp and the presence
of dirty, odorous poiliis, suddenly became big and awe-
some, and filled with a breath of something more than
mere life, or death, or war, or human meddlings. It
seized one's thoughts, perhaps the first solid something
to grip onto that I have seen here in a war-trodden world.

Days and Nights

Within sight — except for the woods — of Montfaucon

July II

It is quarter past nine. Sun is trickling through clouds
and trees, as I sit here in a brancardier' s paste in the Bois
de Hesse. Since early morning I have been reading "Mr.
Britling." The trees are green and bright, there is a cool
breeze riffling the leaves, and birds chortle and trill. The
Medeci7t's red and blue bedroom slippers sit outside his
abri and twinkle comfortably in the sun. There has been
a cleaning in our abri — Lord knows it needed one —
and a disinfectant has been sprinkled about; the odor is
strong in reminiscence of sulpho-naphthol.

This road now, down toward Copinard, is a lather of

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mud — gray, wet mud that slaps and spatters underfoot.
It is inches deep, and fluid. Tracks don't remain visible
in it for long. No ambulances are here now.

Last night was weird. French batteries spat all through
until near dawn, and Bochc arrivees were plentiful. One
struck a soup-kitchen down the road; gas claimed some
victims near here; and a supply of French grenades or
shells was exploded by a German shell. I was just cuddling
down in my blanket when the rumbles came, several suc-
cessive louder ones, as if shells were plumped down in
bunches, each bunch nearer. The last and loudest crum-
bling crash caused our lantern to flicker out, and in the
blackness we heard the stufT land on top of our abri. I
thought, as did Harry Overstreet, that the next burst
would mean the finish. I felt I wanted to get out from
under the corrugated shell of the ahri. But no other crash
came, and I sent my searchlight gleam playing about the
cavern while one of the blesses relit the light.

Aujourd'hui et Demain

Co7ide-en-Barrois, July 26
We are en reserce, — a sort of si^mx-repos, after a month
of hot work, and strain, too. It is not that we sweat and
slave greatly, but there somehow seems to be a ner\-ous
effort and tightening in driving under fire which takes
it out of one physically. The result is that after our
"spells" of twenty-four or forty-eight hours we sink into
lethargic repose until the next call. The days seem all
alike, except that we are served chocolat instead of black
sugarless cofTee, on Sunday mornings, and they slip by,
unsung, into the jumbled yesterdaysof "a little while ago."

Sunday afternoon
It is now nearer still to the end of the month. This morn-
ing three of our Section and a number of the brancardiers,
with whom we messed around at the front, about four-
teen in all, were decorated with the Croix de Guerre. As
a result, to-day has been a/c/e day, with feasting, songs,

176

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h 'A

O li-
fe <

SECTION SEVENTEEN

wines, and speeches. Now we recuperate. There is talk of
work again, and lots of it, in about ten days. There are
American soldiers within twenty kilometres — a young
lieutenant visited us yesterday and dined with us to-
day. It seems hard to realize that all about us here are
Americans, preparing to go down and face the thunder
and flame that we have heard all around and over us.

Monday morning
Letters from over here ramble on very much as events
seem to in France. There are so many days of war behind
and apparently so many, many more ahead, that days
count hardly at all. And if something is not done now, it
can be done "to-morrow" or later. "A few days, oneway
or the other, don't matter" is a phrase I 've heard repeat-
edly over here. Remembering your words, I 've seen little
enough, and done less; but it has been worth much more
than anything I have "sacrificed" to come, to see — not
France, for I've seen only tiny bits of it, but individ-
uals from whom one can build up a vision of the French
people. They go through Hell, and they smile as they go
down into it and smile as they are carried back. No one —
not a one I've met — protests at doing his share and
more.

Under the Starlight

Jtibecourt, July
A DAY or so ago I saw one night more wonderful even
than usual. It was clear starlight, and the guns were
mumbling in their customary fashion, a sort of snoring
of the sleeping dark. And, like slow lightning, the star-
shells glared bright, brighter, then faded. We received
a call for two cars from our woodland poste to a poste,
B I, some two kilometres from the trenches. There we
found no blesses, but they asked me — • the other driver's
French was more awful and even less serviceable than my
poor attempts — if we would consider going down to the
remains of a village — Avocourt — whose name has figured
much lately in despatches, where the regimental bran-

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cardier poste is. It is just behind the trenches and there
were thirteen wounded there — so many that there were
entirely too few brancardiers to tote them up to our B i
poste. You see, most of the regimental brancardiers being
musicians, they had been called away back of the lines
to give some general a band concert!

We had been told by our Medecin Chef that it was im-
possible and too dangerous to drive there. I was for being
obedient (scared) and safe, but, thanks to Big's^ enthu-
siasm, there seemed nothing to do but go. So we went
down the two kilometres of shell-pocked road under the
calm stars and wild shells. I '11 never forget that jouncing
rush through the dark, past troops and overturned
caissons, scraping wagons, startling heaving horses. Then
the slide over two big new shell-holes up an incline beside
the abri, and beside a looming mound that backed the
trenches. The star-shells were directly overhead. They
made you feel coldly naked, and each minute-long glare
lasted for ages. Then they splashed shells around about
us ; but we were busy enough with our blesses not to care
much. Scared all the palest rainbow shades I was, but the
"not-much-caring" was there, too. It is a fact; living with
guns rumbling ail the time, trying to sleep at our poste
while French soixante-quinze batteries within a hundred
yards of us crackle unceasingly, all of it in a fashion makes
one tend to go on with whatever work be in hand, de-
spite gun-fire aimed more or less directly at one.

It was, I imagine, about as near the real thing of the
trenches as we shall get. There was a breathless, ducking
hurry about thrusting the laden bra?icards into the little
coughing Fords; all fingers were thumbs, and every
stretcher had to be rearranged, while the blesses, that
could, cried for speed. Thereafter came a strange ride
with one's back to the possible onrushing shell. It had
the sensation felt in years past when walking away from
the unknown in darkness — one's legs then moved faster
and faster, if one let them, until one was running in fear.

* Donald Asa Bigelow.
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SECTION SEVENTEEN

Just so it required effort not to open the throttle, let the
blesses take their chances with bumps, and flee in panic.
Then insanely we stalled both cars on a steep hill ; the
other chap's gears were loose. So we took "time out" and
tightened them up, while our wounded tried to speed us
on our way to safety, and dark, lumbering transports
hurried past with clattering hoofs and creaking wheels.
But it has slipped into the mere humdrum of a night's
work done. That was really uneventful. Nothing hap-
pened to us, and there is not a man in the Section who
has not gone through a heap sight more, many a night.

News that Filters in

The first repos, July's end
We know little of the war here. Scraps of hearsay filter
in, and we have strange accounts of our sector's activity
from the wounded before they pass out of our hands and
ears. We become sloppy, too — terribly sloppy of lan-
guage and manners.

France would seem strange to us if uncluttered with
frame barracks, camions, and if unflooded with uni-
forms. France for us, too, is almost wholly male. I have
exchanged words with a girl in an epicerie, a woman in a
laundry, and an old, old lady with a crumpled cap and
wondrous crinkled white curls, who worked in the fields
— the only femininity I have come into converse with
since leaving Paris. And male civilians are either bent
crabbedly over a cane, or in pinafores, sucking thumbs,
and knee-high. But I do like the French people I have
met. Our cook is a priest from down near Spain who re-
sembles Mephisto or a stage conjurer, and has a remark-
able gift for making jokes and making uneatable food
not merely edible, but delicious in strange guises.

An Idyll of Old Men

In camp, Jubecourt, July 22
We expect to go en repos with our Division for two weeks
at least. It means rest up and clean up. Some of our Divi-

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sion have been in the trenches for forty days. They are,
you see, a holding, not an attacking, division. The poilus
are wonderful. High, too, I hold the brancardiers, whose
death-rate is probably the highest of any department of
the service, and who bear on their arms the red cross,
and on their faces friendly, quiet smiles. They are old
men most of them, often with glorious individual charac-
ters, too; some were in the 1870 war; numbers are priests;
some are professors. Their work is gathering in the
wounded and the dead, too. They have a two- wheeled
frame on which they can sling a brancard, and the creak-
ing of these wheels is heard day and night.

I have seen blood on men's faces, gray faces swathed
in stained gauze; I have helped wounded into ambulances,
and shoved stretchers in; and when they are unavoid-
ably jolted, the poor chaps try to stifle their groans and
smile. I think they know we are trying to help. I feel now
that I am of more service than I have ever been before
over here, or in my life. A brancardier just told me that
there are beaucoup des morts, and that it is a ferocious
attack. In the meantime the poilus go on wandering
grimly trenchwards down the road. I wonder if this is
"merely an artillery duel on the Argonne front" that we
used casually to read of in the New York papers?

Youth Eternal

Brocourt, August, during a lull in the so-called
^'Second Battle of Verdun''

Just now I have said good-bye to a twenty-two-year-old
German, wounded and a prisoner. He comes from Ham-
burg and speaks both English and French. He has been
three years in the war, and this is the first time he has
been wounded — both the arm and leg now. He wears the
Iron Cross ribbon and said he had received news that
he was promoted to first-class just before the attack. He
says he was wounded while in charge of a machine-gun
squad, and found himself and companions flanked by the
French. He could have killed a bunch of Frenchmen, but

180

SECTION SEVENTEEN

did n 't, since he knew it would make no difference in the
French victory. He says he was prompted by the thought
of their wives and children, and gave the order not to
fire just before a second ball struck him. His father is a
rich merchant in Hamburg. This chap — just my age —
said he had a horse back there — he wanted to go back.
The war has lasted too long, he said. The people, he told
me, were as tired of it as the French. But it is the Govern-
ment that keeps it all up. He had enlisted in the Artillery,
but found that he could not possibly become an officer,
and so went into the Infantry. He said it is not what a
man is, but what his forebears were, that made a German
an officer. Unless a man had extraordinary class distinc-
tion he could not hope for much. The officers are told
not to talk to the men, though they do it a little now in
the trenches. I wonder how much of what he said was
sincere !

At the Triage

The Ambulance Triage at Brocourt, 2 a.m., August 27
This is written as I wait on call. There are no blesses here,
and hrancardiers sleep about me on stretchers. I am in the
hall of the hopital de triage. It is a long, low barrack of the
usual French military sort, dirt-floored and semi-white-
walled, with leaky ceilings. There are rows of low wooden
horses and benches, the former being stretcher supports ;
the latter, racks of pain for sprawling assis. Every one
is asleep here. My lantern smokes. On the table are the
pannikins and tins from which cold and hungry blesses
are given coffee and food. In the cuisine great cans of
coffee simmer on the stove always, and a basket of bread
is ready for the hungry claw. And perhaps hot black coffee
and dry bread are n't luxurious, eaten on a bleak dawn
after a whole night of work !

A Glimpse of the France of Peace

Mourmelon-le-Grand, Champagne, December
It would be much fun to have you along to tell how it all
looked before it became as it is. For how can I feel I know

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anything of France when all I 've seen of it is spattered
with war-built houses, split and serried with old trenches
or practice ones, cut by new ammunition roads and
tracks, and overrun with uniforms? French people? Why,
all there are are old, old, old bent people, or children — or
soldiers. It is when we go farther back, en repos, that we
see, I imagine, something of before-the-war France. Back
there the roads are shining, straight and white, and great
proud trees stand stiff beside, where the green and gold
and brown fields stretch away and away until they scram-
ble up rounded hillsides, and either lose themselves in
purple-green woodlands or break off against the diluted,
sharp sky. Even there, sometimes, one passes ribbons of
over-grown barbed wire of the first fear-days, that ramble
across the landscape, broken where roads run through or
fields are ploughed. That was as it seemed when we were
en repos. Now everything is frizzled with cold ; and things
appear bleak — almost, for somehow they don't quite
succeed in being that. For even on the dreariest, rain-
iest days, there seems to be everlasting zest and life and
beauty to this France.

With the last month or so it is as if the artist, paint-
ing existence here, had changed his palette; there are as
many different tones and shadings, but they are an en-
tirely different set from those used in the summer. They
are silvery now, or cold golden, sleek grays, or misty
purples or browns. The other morning, for instance, when
I crawled out into the early dawn to go on ravitaillement
with our French marechal des logis and a pair of French
regiment lieutenants, it was all frigidly washed in thin
colors. Everything was frozen. The fields had every in-
dividual blade of grass white-crusted with gclee and the
sky looked almost as pale as the globular white moon
that still was over us. Then the sky — that part where the
morning sun was rising — seemed to have no color at all,
only light thereabouts; and distant dark firs or houses
stood out sharply one minute, then became hazy the
next. Autoing was a duty, not a pleasure, that day. The

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SECTION SEVENTEEN

road ruts were frozen solid and crunched under the tires;
carts, horses — everything was white with frost, and men
stumped along the hard road muffled in their capes, and
their breath puffed away from them like steam. The
Frenchmen surely are wonderful to watch. They wear
sabots at this time of year, and clump about a little
awkwardly, but not so awkwardly as I do in mine. For
just as I wore poilu shoes all summer, so I thunder about
in wooden shoes nowadays. You can 't imagine — but it
may be you can — how warm they are and comfortable,
too.

A Man among Men

I WISH you knew our French Lieutenant. He is only
twenty-six or so, and one of the finest, cleanest men I
ever hope to know.

His Christmas speech, which was delightful and heart-
breaking, was as follows :

To my old comrades and to my fellow friends of Section Seven-
teen — to you all, my dear friends:

Christmas is with us once more. It is with the greatest emo-
tion that this day I extend to you, from the bottom of my
heart, my best wishes. The majority of you fellows are spending
your first Christmas far from your dear ones at home, and it is
now "Somewhere in France." I have the pleasure of ofi"ering
you not only my good wishes, but my heartiest thanks —
thanks for the great sacrifice that you made in leaving your
home and coming to my dear country. You are making this
sacrifice with a grandeur of soul that nothing could equal, in
doing your duty and in helping us to do ours, and at the same
time putting forth your courageous efforts to make peace
harmonious, and good-will toward men a reality and not a mere
Christmas term.

When first appointed Chef oi the Section, I said to your com-
rades that it is one of the most unselfish and beautiful doings
of history, these sacrifices you are making for the wounded,
whom yesterday you called friends and to-day allies. When
our heroes have made the supreme sacrifice, giving their life
for the common cause of liberty and justice, shedding their
blood on earth — nothing is more touching than to see how
you, witnesses of their exploits, with courage and devotion,
braving all dangers, come and reach out your fraternal arms,

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which you made very soft in order to lighten their pain. I thank
you for the comfort you give to them through the glance of
your eyes, which means, " Don't fear anything, the States are
with you," and in the same way, wounded though they be,
they seem to answer with their own thanks — " France is with
the States." I thank you for myself who feel these two hearts
throb as one — one that of the French wounded, and the other
that of the American saving him.

We have this year a Christmas tree taken from a part of the
" No Man's Land " of last year — a tree whose green branches
give us great hope and whose lights are symbols of joy, taking
us back to our families and sweethearts, who at this time are
rejoicing in a similar tree, but many miles away, Alas! that
there should be at the table a vacant chair. But be sure that on
that chair will be a draped flag, and in the heart of your dear
ones, as they gaze at it, will be a feeling of proudness and honor.
I am sure, however, that with the same courage with which
they try to hide their own regret at your absence, they will,
in their mind's eye, take the long road which Santa Claus has
had to travel in order to bring you the contents of his bag and
the many heartiest Christmas greetings.

Fellows, let your thoughts wander back to those who are
thinking of you at this time, and permit your Lieutenant to
thank them from the bottom of his heart for all they have sac-
rificed; allow him also to extend the season's greetings to them
and to you, with the hope that Santa Claus will bring you
happiness, much happiness, and the happiness you deserve.
Next year, however, I hope Santa Claus will find that the vic-
tories of the Allies have visited the earth before him and that
he may as of old see the trees growing, grass covering the
numerous shell-holes, the towns and villages rebuilt again, and
by each cross on the many graves, may he perceive, along with
Christmas wreaths. Victory saluting our heroes.

Now, fellows, to you all, my dear friends of the Section, I
extend the wish for a very merry Christmas and the happiest
New Year.

• ••••••••••

When our Lieutenant quitted us, he left us a bit of
himself in a letter — he had n't dared try to speak his
feelings — just as he had written us hearty little speeches
and read them to us on our fete days.

Fellows:
Sometimes it is easier to write than to speak. I have to go,

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SECTION SEVENTEEN

to leave you, my Seventeen Family. My last words are, I
thank you from the bottom of my heart, from the soul of a real
friend, of the brother I am for you; I thank you for all you have
done for France, thank you for all the kindness of heart, the
devotion you have shown for your Lieutenant. Fellows, thank
you; I carry on my heart the name of Seventeen, and in my
heart always, during the war, after the war, during all my life,
the name, the souvenir of you, my friends. Do follow the
traditions of Seventeen and do think during your life that I am
always with you. I am going, but my heart, my mind, are
staying. Au revoir, and do remember. Duty above all.

D'H ALLOY

The Flags of France

Mourmelon, December 6
There is a young, clean-faced priest — a Captain as
most priests seem to be — who is often our guest, and
attached to our Division. He wears a Croix avec palme and
speaks slow, precise English. One day back in June he rode
down from the front with me and explained in French
that having been three days in the trenches during a
little attack and having had no sleep, he was too tired to
think English ! But for his bonnet de police, his croix, and
his poilu shoes — also his gas-mask slung about his
shoulders — he might be a priest in a church instead of in
the trenches. Another of our Division priests is a short,
bearded, gray man, with a wide smile and terribly old,
sad eyes. He speaks no English, but always offers us and
every one cigarettes, though he never smokes himself.

Sunday afternoons in a little open space across the
street a band plays — usually military airs. And always
there is a wonderful flourish when the buglers raise or
lower their instruments — something decorative in the
simple action, just as a French salute has somehow a
dignity, a grace, and a complimentary quality of greeting
that no other salute can claim. It is an all-embracing af-
fair, that salute ; a welcome into brotherhood almost, even
when given by a French general to a U.S.A.A.S. private.
When I was in Paris one day I dove into a Metro train,
in a crowd, and plunked against a lone two-star general.

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

I saluted in a flustered manner, and he could not have
returned it more graciously if I had been the King of
England.

To come back to bands and our same street outside
here. There was a review a month back in the forenoon,
when the sun was out and red leaves were on the big trees
or fluttering down from them as the ceremony on the
plains beyond our town was finished. Then the regiment
marched down our street with band playing and officers
stiff on their horses. And there was a swing to the poilus*
shoulders and a strength in their faces. Their French flag
was a bit torn, but it was crusted with names in gold of
their battles and a Croix de Guerre and a Medaille Mili-
taire nestled in its folds near the staff. We saluted as it
passed, and the sun caught it and the tri-color flamed,
and all in that instant one understood why men tossed
away their lives for France. It seemed the logical thing
to do — the only thing. And I was glad that those colors
belonged to us, too, and glad that even so humbly I 'd been
of the Armee Frangaise.

Why should a banner, a mere bit of silk, choke one's
throat so? Perhaps because no French flag is a "mere bit
of silk" — it is a bit of free blue sky, of searing white
pain, and of man's rich blood. It 's a hymn and a pledge,
a wreath, a sword, a cross, a soul; and a part of that
French soul is in the heart of every poilii, and, please
God, will seep into our American hearts who have come to
France to fight, and fight standing on French ground.

James W. D. Seymour ^

* The above are extracts from home letters, which were described as — '
"these blooming scraps. They are so absurd — their attitude as if the
writer were seeing the immensities around him with a new and valuable
point of view, with things of value to say of them; whereas in reality he
was only very young and unknowing, and impressed and truly very new
himself. I wish some abler person had seen the things that passed before
me, to put them in living flame on paper with a genius pen. Surely he has
been in the war somewhere, the genius who will paint it in all its unforget-
table colors so that it will last forever for all the peoples of the world.
But if you want these jumbled words, you are welcome to them, for it
is true that a dull gray background helps real things to stand out."

Ill

Noel

Christmas Day, 1917
This is Noel and I am still in France. The biggest sur-
prise of the evening, and one which made me very proud
and happy, was when the Major read an order of the day,
citing the Section and pinned the Croix de Guerre on our
flag. He also decorated our French Lieutenant, and,
much to my surprise, gave me another star for mine. I
am so pleased that the work into which I have put all my
strength of soul and body is appreciated.

Grandcville, January, 191 8

We are at last en repos and are quartered in a little
village that hardly deserves the name. We asked an in-
habitant how many people lived here, and he answered
that he did not know whether it was 129 or 130. The
Mayor has the only silk hat, and if any young blood wants
to get married, he has to rent it, and then walk up and
down the main street with his bride on his arm. We say
that a sense of humor and a pair of rubber boots are all
one needs in this town. This is our second rest in ten
months, so you see we are badly in need of it.

March, 1918
In summing up our record from the time we left Paris
until now, we have received one Section citation and nine
individual ones. Of course, I can't tell you the number of
blesses we have carried, but will some day. We have had
four cars smashed by shells, but they are still with us. To
see them now lined up in a peaceful country village, so
far away from the sound of shot and shell, every one
showing the scars of battle, the bodies all sprinkled with
eclats holes, makes one want to go up and pat them on
their hoods and say, " Boys, you have earned a good rest;

187

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

we are going to clean you all up and paint you, give you
plenty of new grease and oil, and you can feel in your
carburetor-souls that the Croix de Guerre you earned, you
certainly deserved. You need not feel ashamed to have
them painted on your wind-shields." This may sound con-
ceited, but it really is true, for the old cars have stood up
wonderfully, and we are all proud of them, even in their
present condition.

I have just returned from Nice, having spent my per-
mission there. Going down, I had to stand up on a crowded
train from Paris during twenty-two hours. But it was
worth the fatigue — the sunshine, the palms and the
orange trees, the peacefulness of it all were too wonder-
ful! At the Casino at Monte Carlo, I looked in at the
gambling through the glass doors, as no one in uniform
is allowed to enter.

Now I am back, and I am feeling very badly to-day, as
the army has taken away our French Lieutenant. He is
such a wonder, and he loved the Section so. We all miss
him terribly. I would rather have lost my right arm than
see him go. I have a splendid lot of men, and I am very
proud of them. We all pray that the war will soon be
over. Sometimes we dream about it, but always wake
up in muddy France. But when we are discouraged and
homesick, as we all are sometimes, we have only to look
at these wonderful French people to get a brace, and have
renewed courage to "carry on" until the end.

Basil K. Neftel ^

1 Of Larchmont, New York; joined Section Eight of the Field Service in
August, 19 16; Chefol Section Seventeen from its beginning, and its Lieuten-
ant when taken over by the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. The above are clip-
pings from home letters.

"•^ saiofot

fa
O

73
O
<

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

From September 21, 191 7, with a gradually changing person-
nel, Section Six-Thirty-Five was stationed at Mourmelon-le-
Grand in one of the permanent harraqiiements of the Camp de
Chalons. Pastes were at M4, Village Gascon, Bois Sacre, and
Hexen Weg, with evacuations to Hopital Farman and Mour-
melon-le-Petit. From the latter places we did, in addition,
rear-line work to Saint-Hilaire, Mont Frenet, and Chalons.
Through the bitter winter of 1917 the Section's Division, the
97th, was continuously in the lines. There were frequent
coups de main and the constant threat, expressed in leaflets
dropped by Boche avians, that Christmas would see the entire
region including Chalons in German hands. In anticipation
barbed wire was strung and trenches dug kilometres back of
Mourmelon, but by January 20 no attack had occurred and
the Section moved back, just as a thaw set in which disrupted
most traffic, and went en repos at Grandeville, near Mailly.
Here the 97th Division as such went out of existence. The
artillery, ge?tie, Algerian cavalry, and medical corps of the old
Division remained, but to them were added three regiments
of cuirassiers — the 5th, 8th, and 12th — and the Division
was renamed the 2« D.C.P. of the 2« C.C.P. {Corps de Cavalerie
d, Pieds). The Division remained in training until March 23,
when a move was made to Auve on the Chalons- Verdun road.
Sudden orders started the Section with its Division on a rush
for the Somme. The convoy set out on March 27, over jammed
and muddy roads, with stops at Juvigny and Breteuil, and
finally reached its cantonment at Oresmaux. For two weeks
the Division fought, and after terrific losses succeeded in stop-
ping the German advance. During this time the Section served
postes at Rouvrel and Dommartin, with evacuations to Ailly.
It just escaped capture en masse at one time, and on several
other occasions individuals found themselves between the lines
only to make almost miraculous escapes.

First Sergeant Richards, having assumed in addition to his
own the duties of mechanic, was wounded slightly while re-
pairing a car under fire, and the Section later received a Corps
d'Armee citation for its work.

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

April 13 the Division moved back, with short rests at Camp-
deville and Pernant, until on May 7 it was again in line, this
time in the supposedly repos sector west of Soissons. The Sec-
tion was quartered in ahri grottoes above the Aisne at Fon-
tenoy, with pastes at Saint-Mard, Epagny, and Vezaponin. Ac-
tivity began to increase about the 25th, then suddenly on
May 27 the violent Boche attack began. Our base was moved
back to the Ferme I'Epine, but we lived by our cars and con-
tinued to serve the pastes until the Germans took the villages.
On the 30th we worked from Vic-sur-Aisne evacuating the
wounded from Morsain, through which the French streamed
in retreat. Even as we worked here, the town was being blown
to pieces and behind it batteries drew up in open fields, opened
fire, and then retreated once again. Orders sent us across the
Aisne before night because the French expected to have to de-
stroy all the bridges before the next day. For two nights and
a day we bivouacked beside the raute natianale, in the dust and
rush of the retreat, while trenches were being dug along it, and
we made impossibly long evacuations to Compiegne and Vil-
lers-Cotterets. There was a terrifying sense of desperation and
hopelessness in the air, even when on June i the enemy seemed
at least temporarily halted just north of Vic. Our Division
came "out" and we settled at Ferme I'Epine, where the For-
eign Legion too was quartered. The Germans again advanced,
the saucisses glared down at us, and the machine guns stut-
tered close at hand again. The cuirassiers were thrown into the
uncertain lines in the woods near Coeuvres on the 5th. We had
pastes at Saint-Pierre I'Aigle, Chateau Valsery, and Montgo-
bert, with evacuations to Taillefontaine. Again unexpectedly
the Germans attacked on June 12 with a vicious barrage. In
our Valsery paste Nazel was shot through the thigh by an
avian machine-gunning the place, then Eddy was wounded by
a shell and a little later Conklin was killed near Montgobert.
In the haste of retreat the French first line was established
along the road on the hillside back of Chateau Valsery, where
were three of our cars and half a dozen of our men. They were
between the lines in the valley swept by machine-gun fire, but
completely cleared the paste of wounded and got back to the
Section unhurt. Three days more we served, taking over for
a day the work of the colonial division which relieved ours
when its own French section was late in arriving. Then on the
15th we started for Beauvais, going en repas at Bonlier.

June 28 part of the Section entrained on flatcars for an un-
known destination, and next day the remainder set out by
road with the R. V.F. After a slow three-days convoy we were

190

SECTION SEVENTEEN

settled at Hargeville, near Bar-le-Duc. For two days we were
attached to the 1 17th Division and worked with it north of Les
Islettes in the Argonne; then our old Division recalled us, our
place being taken by S.S.A. 14, and we hurried to Genicourt,
taking up poste service immediately. Thus in twenty-four
hours we had served at the front on both banks of the Meuse.
Here we settled down with pastes before Rupt in the Woevre
forests.

On September 8 we left Genicourt, moving back to Ra-
vigny Hospital on the Souilly road. The 26th Division had
now relieved us, and both divisions were attached to a colonial
corps serving with the First American Army. On the nth we
moved up to Troyon on the Meuse Canal. Next day our Divi-
sion attacked in conjunction with the Americans, taking 28(30
prisoners. The advance was greater than had been expected, and
on the 1 6th we shifted our base up to Deuxnouds, serving a
poste at Avillers in the Woevre plain and two other posies on
the hills above.

September 20, on one of their nightly air raids the Boches
picked Deuxnouds as their objective, dropping eleven bombs
directly behind our line of ambulances, ruining eight of them.
The first of the bombs wounded "Shorty" Hannah ^ so ter-
ribly that he lived only a few minutes. Muldoon and three
Frenchmen were severely wounded also, but recovered. We
went to Lacroix-sur-Meuse to await orders on October 18.
Starting for Nancy on the 23d, our orders were changed when
we reached Commercy and we headed toward the Argonne,
going to Dommartin-la-Planchette, west of Sainte-Mene-
hould.

Beginning November 2, when we were suddenly ordered to
Ripont, which was merely a name, the village having been
absolutely wiped away, we advanced steadily with stops at
Saint-Etienne, Bignicourt, and Amagne, arriving on the 9th
at Hagniville. On November 10 the Division went into line,
and during the evening took Mezieres and Charleville across
the river. The attack planned for the following morning was
arrested by the news of the Armistice, which found us quar-
tered in Boulzicourt. Next day we moved into some large and
comfortable barracks in Mezieres, where we remained until the
17th, when our advance into Belgium began. We went forward
through Vresse to Paliseul. We were some twenty-four hours
behind the Boches and were supposed to follow them at this

^ Fred A. Hannah, of Scranton, Pennsylvania; joined the Field Service
in July, 19 17; served with Section Seventeen; later in the U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service; killed by aeroplane bomb on September 20, 1918.

191

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

interval. After passing through' Saint-Hubert, we stopped at
Drinkelange, where we lived for two weeks in a frame building
with only occasional trips carrying malades to Rastogne. On
December ii we started into Germany, crossing the line at
Dasburg, and spending our first night in Daleiden. We con-
tinued through Neuerburg, Ritburg, Schweich, and Simmern,
reaching the Rhine on December 23. Christmas we spent in
Salzig, then two days later went down the Rhine to May-
ence. Our Division relieved a Moroccan division in holding the
bridgehead, and we had several postes, one at Worms.

February 14 a new section relieved us, and leaving them our
cars we took train for Metz, then shifted to the Paris express.
After one day in Paris we began the first lap of our homeward
journey and started for Ferrieres and Rase Camp.

Carleton Fay Wright ^

' Carleton Fay Wright, of Plymouth, Massachusetts; joined the Field
Service in October, 1917; served in Section Six-Thirty-Five of the U.S.A.
Ambulance Service for the duration of the war.

Section Eighteen

THE STORY TOLD BY

I 6f II. Ernest R. Schoen
III. Roberta. Donaldson

SUMMARY

Section Eighteen left Paris on May 8, 19 17, going to
Glorieux, near Verdun, working the pastes of Bras and Mont-
grignon, and thence to Thonnance-les-MouHns en repos. It
worked in the French attack at Verdun in August, where the
Section received a divisional citation. From Verdun it went to
Dolancourt, en repos, and thence to the hospital at La Veuve,
in the Champagne, near Chalons-sur-Marne, in October, where
the break-up took place and its U.S. Army regime began as
Section Six-Thirty-Six.

«Br—

Section Eighteen

Come, come, O Bard, from out some unknown place,

Come and record, in words and songs of (ire,

The valiant deaths, the struggles of the race,

The fight to check an Emperor's desire!

Come strike thy harp; the force of man is hurled; —

Give us an Iliad of the Western World!

Robert A. Donaldson

To Glorieux

On May 8, 1917, Section Eighteen left Paris for an un-
known destination. All of the cars, in the park at 21 rue
Raynouard, looked very gay in their new paint with the
crossed French and American emblems emblazoned on
their sides. Each man glanced over the group and chose
the car that appealed to him most, the choice usually
being governed by the facility with which the engine
could be started. During the next few days there was a
mighty tuning of motors, inspection of equipment, filling
of hidons, and making of trial spins. Finally the name
plates were attached and everything put in readiness.
About 9.30 A.M. Paul Kurtz, ^ our Chef, gave the signal,

1 Paul Borda Kurtz of Germantown, Pennsylvania; Harvard, 'i6; served
with Section One and as Chefoi Section Eighteen; in the Field Service from

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

we left the park, lined up on the quai in numerical order,
made one last adieu, and passed out through the streets
and boulevards of Paris in convoy formation. It was a
proud moment for us all.

Our final stop for the day was at Sezanne, where we
parked our cars in the court-house square, and found that
the day's run had been rather remarkable, every car hav-
ing got through in good order. A can of "monkey meat," a
hunk of bread, and a bar of chocolate served for supper,
after which the cots were set up in the cars. Some of the
men, however, preferred the grand stand. Needless to say,
it was not necessary to rock the Section to sleep that night.

Early the next morning we took the road again and
soon entered the valley of the Marne, a country of plains
and rolling fields which smiled in the early sunshine,
for nature had well repaired the ravages of man. It re-
quired a being without a soul to devastate such a spot
as this. Now the roadside graves grew more numerous,
and we felt that we were passing through a region where
world history had been made. From Vitry-Ie-Frangois,
we hurried to Bar-le-Duc, where we were directed to
Fains, a treeless, uninteresting little place of one street,
which was our temporary headquarters. Two days later
the coveted order came authorizing us to proceed to
Verdun.

An early start was made from Fains, and the convoy
passed through the edge of Bar-le-Duc and then out
into a fine rolling country over a good road that led us
slowly on among never-ending vistas of hills and valleys,
woods and fields. We were now on the main artery of
communication with Verdun and there was much to
catch and hold our interest. About noon we arrived at
Vadelaincourt, which was to become our regular "port of
call," and we then passed into a section where trenches
and barbed-wire entanglements formed a goodly portion

August, 1915, to July, 1917; entered French Aviation and subsequently
became a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Aviation; killed on May 22, 1918,
upon returning from a patrol, when his machine took fire.

196

SECTION EIGHTEEN

of the landscape, and where, in the distance, could be heard
the occasional boom of a gun, while about us were am-
munition dumps, parked camions, cavalry en repos, and
other military essentials that led us to believe that at
last we were going to have a first-hand view of "the real
thing." As we turned into the edge of Verdun, and the
ruined houses began to rear their fragmentary walls, we
realized that the description of this locality had not been
overdrawn. Skirting the edge of the town we swung into
the cantonment at Glorieux and brought our cars to a
halt.

At Glorieux we relieved Section Eight, which had done
arduous service in this sector in the various attacks of
the preceding months. Our cantonment was about one
mile from the citadel of Verdun on the southwest side,
and was located on the slope of a hill from the crest of
which a large portion of the defences to the north of
Verdun could be seen. It was made up of several stone
hospital buildings and numerous long frame barracks.
The bdtiment which Section Eight evacuated the morning
after our arrival, and which we took over, was a commo-
dious one and we were able to fix ourselves up very com-
fortably, indeed, these quarters being considered among
the most comfortable at the front. In an adjoining hdti-
ment was an English section, also numbered eighteen,
and attached to the French Army. They did evacuation
work alternately with us, and the two groups were thrown
close together and became very firm friends.

Bras — Montgrignon — Maison Nathan

At the outset only two pastes de secours were assigned
to Section Eighteen, one being located in the ruins of the
village of Bras and the other across the Meuse from the
village of Thierville, and known as Montgrignon. The vil-
lage of Bras was near the Fort de Cote du Poivre and
about four miles north of the citadel of Verdun, the poste
de secours being installed in a well-constructed ahri which,
however, abounded in rats and was pervaded with the

197

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

odor of acetylene gas used for its illumination. This town
formerly housed about fifteen hundred inhabitants, but
at this time there was hardly a wall standing, and the
ruins were intersected in every direction by communi-
cation trenches. When the poste was taken over, it was
about twelve hundred yards from the German first-line
trenches.

As the road to Bras could not be used in the daytime,
the wounded were brought down the canal in a peniche
and unloaded at the poste at Montgrlgnon, from which
point the ambulances carried them to Maison Nathan, a
residence originally built for and occupied by General
Bouvet, who planned the fortifications of Verdun. It was
a sort of villa constructed on three sides of a square,
the fourth side opening on a very pretty garden, which
also was cut up by communication trenches. The fruit
trees were sadly shattered, and among the flowers lay
unused hand grenades, unexploded obus, and various
other specimens of the flotsam of war; but still the apple
blossoms, the lilacs and the columbine — the bleeding
heart of a flower which typifies France — made a brave
show. The Maison, which, I may add, was just inside the
Saint Paul gate at Verdun, was badly shell- torn, and as
it was still bombarded, the wounded were handled in
specially prepared rooms in the cellar. In a word, Maison
Nathan was a kind of clearing-house, where the doctors
classified the wounded or sick, according to their hurt
or ailment, and then tagged them for evacuation to the
various hospitals in the vicinity. So here in the courtyard
we kept our cars ready to go to Bras or Montgrignon or
to the surrounding hospitals.

Tn the beginning we were assigned, as quarters at
the Maison Nathan, a room in the cellar adjacent to
the kitchen, a hole with only artificial light, partly elec-
tric and partly from oil lamps. We slept fully clothed in
the beds and dared not investigate the blankets. A cat
and her kittens ate and slept on these same beds. Later,
a room was secured on the first floor which was made

198

SECTION EIGHTEEN

fairly comfortable, and where at least fresh air and sun-
shine could be had, though at night the windows had to
be carefully covered in order that no light might show
outside. In case of bombardment, the abri was quite
handy, and we knew, in the dark, every foot of the way
thereto.

Varieties of Work

As a general thing there was sufficient variety in our
work to keep us entertained while on duty, for there
were the blesses, the brancardiers, and the poilus to talk
to, the ruins of the town to explore if time permitted,
reading and writing and many arguments on various
topics, all of which caused the time to pass away very
pleasantly. But the men were not allow^ed to visit Ver-
dun, nor to stray far from the cantonment, particularly
in the directions where batteries were stationed. Yet, just
before dusk, the top of the hill behind the camp was quite
a gathering-place, as from there could be caught glimpses
of Douaumont, Cote de Talon, Cote du Poivre, and other
points of interest, while the flash of the guns, the burst-
ing of obus, the illumination of the star-shells, and the
display of the signal rockets were a never-ending fasci-
nation.

On the road to Bras it was duck and dodge and twist
and turn, and when the eye-strain became too great, we
sometimes parried things that did not exist. Along the
Faubourg Pave we went, and up the Belleville Hill,
striving to make it in "high." A turn to the right at the
top and it was a straight run to Bras, with the camouflage
on the left and the open fields on the right, and plenty
of traffic rattling by with the flash of a searchlight here
and there to indicate positions, or a dazzling glare from
a star-shell that soon expired and left the darkness
blacker than ever. So a wave of relief swept over us as we
passed under the waving arches of camouflage that graced
the streets of the ruined town, and this feeling was ac-
centuated when we slipped the car into the shelter and we

199

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

ourselves descended the steps to the abri where the bran-
cardiers, the rats, and various odors welcomed us. We
shan't forget in a hurry that road to Bras.

En Repos — Thonnance-les-Moulins

On June 28, we were notified that we should leave the
next morning to go en repos. In view of the expected
offensive in the near future in which our Division was
to take an important part, the soldiers were to be given
a good rest behind the lines and the Section was to accom-
pany them. So the cars were loaded that day, and the
next morning early we took the road to the rear after
seven busy weeks in the immediate sector of Verdun. The
convoy had a pleasant run through some very charm-
ing French country. The day was ideal, and the wealth of
color in the landscape suggested the hand of a master-
painter. We followed the broad highway to Bar-le-Duc,
and were interested in seeing civilians again while the
sight of the feminine filled us with wonder. At Suzanne-
court our cars were parked near an ancient and run-down
chateau where quarters were secured for most of the
boys. The stores were unloaded and set up, and after a
good meal we were all glad to "turn in." The next day,
however, we received a jolt. The French authorities had
sent us to the wrong town, so we had to pack up again,
bid good-bye to our new-made friends, and seek quarters
ten kilometres farther east. A short run brought us to
our destination — Thonnance-les-Moulins — a small vil-
lage with only two caf6s, nestling in a valley among some
well-defined and wooded hills and with a delightfully clear
and cold little stream near by where the drivers could
scrub themselves and their cars. These cars were parked
in a field behind the mairie and adjacent to the stream,
while the kitchen and the atelier were set up in the stable-
yard of our main billet.

The men who had the good fortune to be quartered
among the townspeople now experienced the exquisite
pleasure of sheets, pillows, and feather mattresses, some-

200

SECTION EIGHTEEN

thing it was mighty difficult to pull us away from in the
morning. The old peasant women who rented the rooms
did not understand our habits any better than most of
us understand their mitrailleuse speech, this being their
first experience with the Americans at close range. Every-
thing considered, however, we lived together in peace and
harmony, and at the same time had an opportunity
to gain an intimate knowledge of the French peasant
class.

The Glorious Fourth

Soon after our arrival at Thonnance, the "Glorious
Fourth" came to pass. So large United States and French
flags were hung at the entrance to our stable-yard,
and that evening we had a sumptuous repast, including
champagne and several speeches wherein we spoke very
nicely of ourselves. It was, indeed, a" large" day, and
though the natives did not know what the Fourth of
July was, they suspected that it was quite an impor-
tant occasion. The French Government, in view of the
Fourth and the landing of American troops in France,
allowed us a two days' leave in Paris, which by trav-
elling at night were stretched into four days. This was,
indeed, a welcome break in our daily life, and the " bright
lights" were thoroughly enjoyed by those who could
scrape together sufficient funds.

In the meantime the regiments of the Division were
busy practising for the offensive at Verdun. The G.B.D.
unit had to listen to lectures on their duties, and as there
was little for Section Eighteen to do but sit and wait — we
had almost eight weeks of that — the inaction began to
tell on the men before the end came. With a world war
in progress within cannon sound of us, we felt that we
were spending our time as though we were at some sum-
mer resort. So when finally we were told, on August 6,
that we should return to Verdun the next day, there was
universal rejoicing. We packed our things, hitched on
our kitchen trailer, and about noon, on a bright summer

201

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

day, took the road back to what we knew would be a
wonderful experience if we lived to see it through.

"Coming Home" to Glorieux

To most of us, the return to Glorieux was somewhat like
a home-coming; but this time we did not have the com-
modious quarters that we formerly occupied. Indeed,
we were restricted to three rooms, and the remainder of
the building was given over to a French G.B.D. trans-
port squad, and our English friends of S.S.A. Eighteen,
who arrived soon after we did, and who had to be partly
quartered in tents. What were barracks before had now
to be converted into hospital wards. But otherw^ise
things had not changed much since our departure. The
cemeteries had grown a bit, some temporary structures
had been erected, and there was an observation balloon
station near by that interested us mightily. The hill
from which we had been accustomed to make so many
thrilling observations was also there, but alas, we were
forbidden to ascend to the top. But as many plum trees
grew near the crest of the hill, and as we were all very
fond of that fruit, this proved some compensation.

During the first week of our stay there, we had very
little to do, as our Division, which, in view of the attack,
had been augmented by another regiment, had not yet
moved up to the trenches. Most of our activity consisted
in keeping a car at the Caserne Griboval for the purpose
of hauling the Medecin Divisionnaire around on his
various inspection trips and to his numerous conferences.
Occasionally, too, a car went on a special run, and on
such occasions the driver was envied. Interest was in-
creased by the fact that the roads were now being strictly
policed, illuminated signs placed along the routes at all
crossings and various traffic rules enforced ad literatim.

Along about August 15th, our Division began to enter
the trenches and the Medecin Divisionnaire moved his
headquarters to Bras, which poste we then commenced
to work regularly. In the beginning, most of the men

202

SECTION EIGHTEEN

handled were gas cases, for the Germans were using a
shell containing a new kind of gas. It had no odor and
the effects were not felt to any degree until a good many
hours after the victim had been subjected to it, when
the eyes, nose, throat, lungs, and stomach were attacked,
and, penetrating the clothing, it would raise large blisters
where it came in contact with the sweaty parts of the
body.

Driving and Luck

Successful night driving now became largely a matter
of good judgment and luck. As the rain had ceased,
dust became an important factor in the art, and when the
gas-mask had to be put on, progress on the highway was
pure guesswork. The Bras road was barely wide enough
in places for three vehicles abreast, and then it was neces-
sary for one of them to run on the dummy track along-
side. When an ambulance dashed out from behind some
convoy and took a chance in the darkness and dust, it
never knew what it was going to meet ; and when some
vague shape loomed up almost upon one, one had to
find a hole somewhere and find it quickly. If there were
horses on the right-hand side of the road, you could push
them into the ditch and make this hole, and, incidentally,
be glad you could not understand the language of the
driver. All the other vehicles were larger than a Ford
ambulance, and generally you had to rely on a hole be-
ing made for you. In the midst of all this, perhaps you
might lose a mudguard, dent a fender, or smash a lamp,
but that was just a part of the game.

Pandemonium at Bras

The approach to Bras on the night of the attack was a
scene of bewildering confusion. The road was choked with
horses and vehicles of every description seemingly mixed
in inextricable chaos, hrancardiers were going forth empty-
handed or returning with silent burdens, batteries roared
and flashed in every direction, while shells whistled over-

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

head continuously. The route was Ht up by the glare of
two burning camions which had been struck by German
shells, and the ruined town, with its waving arches of
camouflage, presented a weird and grotesque appearance
as the lights and shadows played about its distorted
walls and crumbling piles of masonry.

A short while after midnight, gas-shells began to come
over, and then the confusion became worse and the diffi-
culties for us increased — for as the breath soon con-
denses on the lenses of the gas-mask, to see through it at
night is well-nigh an impossibility. Horses affected by the
gas pranced all over the road, and their drivers, looking
like so many ghouls, cursed inaudibly beneath their
masks, doubly irritated by their inability to see clearly.
In the meanwhile, the traffic assumed more and more a
condition of turmoil, and finally everything had to be
halted until the worst had passed, while those of us at
the poste were compelled to enter the ahri, where every
crack and crevice was tightly closed, and what with
every inch of space occupied by sleeping, eating, or
smoking poilus, it was a question of whether the air with-
out was not preferable to that within. But as soon as
there was a lull in the gas attack, the ambulances were
loaded and started on their way. Most of them, however,
did little more than start, for soon the gas was as thick
as ever, and again the traffic became badly congested
and everything had to halt. With our gas-masks on, we
waited, wedged in the mass, while on one side fell the
gas-shells, on the other the high-explosives, and overhead
occasionally burst shrapnel. Sometimes a shell would
find its billet, and the screams of horses and shouts of
men would add to the hideousness of the scene. After
what seemed an interminable time, the gas let up, the
road was partially cleared, and, though still hampered
with gas-masks, we crawled and felt our way toward Ver-
dun, where we deposited our burdens at the triage with a
feeling of relief that no words can describe.

It was during the night just mentioned that Long,

204

SECTION EIGHTEEN

hearing an aeroplane bomb burst behind him, got out of
his car, investigated and, finding a man with his leg nearly
torn off, immediately applied a tourniquet, using a piece
of trace rope, a hammer, and one of his tire tools. He then
loaded him with two other wounded into the ambulance,
and hurried to the hospital, and thus saved a life by his
prompt action, for which he later received the Croix de
Guerre. This is one of the many fine examples of the work
done by our men during this stormy crisis.

The Morning of Attack

During the night of August 20 and the early morning
of the 2 1 St, the bombardment was intense, and soon after
dawn the troops went over, when the road to Bras be-
came a very unpleasant sight, for it was lined its whole
length with dead and dying horses and the wrecks of
vehicles. Near the junction of the Petit Bras with the
Bras road was a particularly gruesome scene, a bursting
shell having involved a camion and a horse-drawn am-
munition wagon, left the bodies of four of the horses,
two partially burned, lying in the ditch, the wreckage
of the conveyances, and numerous loaded shells strewn
all about, while in the midst of the repulsive mess was a
poihc whose body was completely severed at the waist
and the skin burned from the nether limbs.

For the whole of the day the little Fords went up and
down the Bras road like so many mechanical toys. The
shelling was still pretty warm in the localities rounda-
bout, and the highway was so full of shell-holes that it
was a wonder the springs ever stood the strain. In the
meanwhile, the wounded were being brought into the
triage so rapidly that its facilities were overwhelmed, and
the drivers had to act as their own brancardiers, deposit-
ing the wounded in the open courtyard until room could
be made inside the building. Finally we even had all to
turn in and evacuate them to the railroad station at
Souilly, where they were transported to hospitals in cars
of other sections.

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August 31st was the red-letter day in the annals of
Section Eighteen, when between seven hundred and eight
hundred blesses were handled and the cars kept in motion
almost constantly. The men performed their work effi-
ciently and thoroughly, and the wounded were removed
from the poste de secoiirs just as rapidly as they could re-
ceive the necessary attention and be placed in the cars.
Section Four furnished ten cars which worked in con-
junction with Section Eighteen during the major portion
of the attack, and they are entitled to the greatest praise
for the aid they gave us.

Our English friends of S.S.A. Eighteen, who, I may
say in passing, had given a very fine account of them-
selves during the attack, now packed up their "old kit-
bags" and left us. We felt rather lonesome at their de-
parture. Finally it was settled that we, too, were to leave
on September 2. So we immediately began to set our house
in order. The cars were in a rather sorry plight, for there
was hardly one that did not bear scars from the work of
the attack — rear mudguards gone, fenders pushed in,
radiators bent, lamps smashed, holes punched in the
bodies, and side boxes knocked off. As far as possible
these defects were remedied, the mud was cleaned off as
well as could be, and everything put in shape for a long
cross-country run, while Section Four moved into our
quarters, prepared to take over our posies on the day of our
departure. And then, at 3 A.M., September 2, we awakened
to a wet, drizzly morning, caught a quick breakfast of
coffee, jam, and bread, and by the time it was fairly light
took our last look at Glorieux and the environs of Verdun,
swung into the Bar-le-Duc road, and were quickly on our
way to peace and rest.

Dolancourt, which had been selected as our place of
repos, proved to be a very quaint and pretty little village
with fine trees and attractive surroundings. The work we
were called upon to do there was similar to that of our
first repos. The Medecin Divisionnaire had his headquar-
ters at Vendoeuvre, a pleasant, small town about eight

206

SECTION EIGHTEEN

miles from Dolancourt, where we kept a car on duty at
all times, each driver serving twenty-four hours.

The latter part of September was marked by several
occurrences of interest, including the arrival of the United
States officers to enlist the men in the Regular Army.
Several of the fellows departed for home or aviation work,
and new men came out to the Section to replace them.
But the principal event and the climax of the Section's
career was the conferring upon it of the Croix de Guerre,
in recognition of the work done at the Verdun attack
described above.

A Section Citation

On the morning of the 29th, the citation ceremony took
place in a superb spot, a small plateau just outside of
Dolancourt, which was itself nestled beneath in a ver-
dant cup. In every direction stretched the rolling fields
and hills covered with vineyards and wood plots, the
stately poplar rearing its head wherever the eyes turned,
until the succession of green heights seemed to dissolve in
the distance, while here and there bright bits of color
flashed out where the mustard and the poppy held sway.
Such was the scene when there swung into the field,
passing the ambulances, spick and span, drivers at at-
tention, the various detachments of the G.B.D. — com-
panies of hrancardiers, trim and polished for the occa-
sion, and horse-drawn vehicles of the Service Sanitaire
equipped for various purposes of aid and relief. The Red
Cross was everywhere. Indeed, all the units of a G.B.D.
were present, and each proceeded with military precision
and despatch to allotted positions, forming three sides
of a hollow square, the fourth side being left open for
the Medecin Divisionnaire and the reviewing party, who
soon arrived, and, with his staff and his decorations
glistening in the sun, the former marched around the
field and made a brief inspection of the assembled units.
Then the individuals who were to be decorated formed a
line in the centre of the square, with the Medecin CheJ

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carrying the official emblem of the G.B.D. and the Lieu-
tenant carrying that of Section Eighteen. Unfortunately,
out of our six men who were to receive decorations, only
the Chef, William Slidell, and young Olmstead, were pres-
ent. Then the citations of the G.B.D. and Section Eight-
een were read out and the Medecin Divisionnaire pinned
a Croix de Guerre upon the flag of each, this being followed
by the reading of the individual citations. As each of the
latter was concluded, he attached a Croix de Guerre to the
breast of the man cited, and accompanied the act by a
few congratulatory words and a shake of the hand. When
this was finished, the Medecin Divisionnaire, his staff,
and the honor men retired to the open side of the square,
where they watched the entire organization pass in
review.

As the procession swung by in the midst of this wonder-
ful setting, the sight was an inspiring one. And finally
the little American ambulances, chugging slowly along in
the rear of the procession, slipped over the hill and back
to their park, and thus Section Eighteen of the American
Field Service passed out of existence as a volunteer or-
ganization.

Ernest R. Schoen ^

1 Of Richmond, Virginia; Virginia University, '04; served with Section
Eighteen for six months; subsequently a Captain, U.S.A. Air Service.

/«

iLvTT -zpry^

The Road to Verdun

On our way from Paris to the Front
Sezanne, May 9, 19 17

Arose early. My head and blankets were pretty wet
from having slept in a heavy dew. We finally got away
about 9.30 A.M. Passed a small monument commemo-
rating the Battle of the Marne, and about the same time
the burial plots began to grow rather numerous. Yet there
were few signs of devastation, and the bright green of
the meadows, with the brighter yellow of the dandelions,
made a picture that brought a sparkle to the most tired
eyes. Soon we passed some small villages, with here and
there a house levelled. It is not possible to imagine that
a country such as this could be destroyed by any one
who had the least particle of appreciation for the beauti-
ful and picturesque.

Bras, May 12
On the road to Verdun ! I sat out in front of the poste for
a while, watching the flares, the flash of the adjacent bat-
teries, and the soldiers shooting at rats that attempted
to cross the road. Eventually I went below and was
writing when my first call came. I loaded an assis and a
couche into my machine and started for the Maison
Nathan. The strain of my first night's driving was ter-
rific — the continual peering through the gloom, the un-
expected appearance of men and wagons, the impossi-
bility of avoiding bumps and holes, and at the same time
knowing that every jar and bump meant a pang to the
man or men inside — all kept one in a state of suspense
that tried the nerves severely.

May 21
The invisibility of this warfare Is amazing. One sees the
flashes of the guns, but no battery; there are forts, but
no men in sight ; trenches, but no soldiers. Everything is

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under cover, and the ingenuity displayed to bring this
about is wonderful. Were it not for the eyes of the armies
— the aeroplanes and observation balloons — the wast-
age of ammunition would be worse than it actually isl-
and, as things are, it is appalling.

May 23
The other day I brought in a bunch of lilacs, and it makes
a beautiful sight on the table before me. Its vase, a French
"75" shell-casing, is rather incongruous, but so is war.

Rather amused at the comments of some English the
other night when the bombardment wason. "Silly asses,"
they said, "throwing things at one another; probably
never saw each other in their lives and don't know what
they are fighting about." Peculiar chaps, these English,
smugly satisfied, but in their way always polite and con-
siderate.

May 24
From Montgrignon I brought back one couche and three
assis, the former in a pitiable state — leg broken, arm
injured, part of his chest torn away, and his head bat-
tered in! My! how he moaned; his cries of "Oh I la J la I
Oh! la! la !'' will haunt my memory for weeks to come.
He would raise himself from the brancard and endeavor
to get water, but they would give him none. His eyes
would roll back till one saw nothing but their whites, and
then he would burst into tears. God ! how these men suf-
fer. Can such occurrences be part of the order of things?
Are men born, raised, and educated to be slaughtered
like so many animals, and to suffer the tortures of hell
and the damned, through the course of it? Perhaps so;
but the reason of it all is beyond my narrow intelligence.
There must be some great reward to the world to repay
the enormous sacrifice that mankind is now enduring.

Nature and War

May 26
Another beautiful day. The country is wonderful. The
scarred and riven hills with their wire entanglements are

210

SECTION EIGHTEEN

green and luxurious with grasses and wild flowers; and
the portions where are the buttercups are cloth-of-gold.
Nature will hold her own; but over toward Douaumont
way the rage of man has been too much for her healing
efforts, and there the hill which marks the fort is as bare
as the palm of one's hand. By the way, one can always
tell when he is approaching a hospital by the field of
crosses which appears just before. The wooden crosses,
or croix de hois, have been awarded much oftener than
the Croix de Guerre.

June 7

Another trip to Bras at 1.30 a.m. I had no sooner
arrived than they gave me two couches with directions
to beat it back "vite.'' I did, and one poor devil with his
side shot away suffered frightfully. How he kicked the
sides of the car and called out into the night — ye gods!
It was monstrous; but the race with death had to be
run. Death won.

AuTRES Pays, Autres Vet^ments

June 16
The tails of the French shirts have been giving me some
trouble due to their astounding length. I hear that the
wealth of material is put there as a result of the tendency
of the French to omit one of their nether garments. Be
that as it may, its disposal is quite a problem and causes
me to labor earnestly to avoid knots of cloth that make
sitting at times exceedingly uncomfortable. The French
may economize in other ways, but in this respect they
certainly are prodigal.

June 26
The English have given a little entertainment which
consisted principally of songs and shadowgraphs. The
most wonderful thing of the whole show was that the
English burlesqued themselves and enjoyed it. After this
war I do not think that the line of demarcation between
the nationalities will be so closely drawn as before ; there
has been too much association, and the influence of one

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upon the other is already apparent. Now that we Ameri-
cans, too, are influencing the situation sufficiently to
cause notice, the resulting reaction of the nationalities
upon one another is going to make a still more interesting
study.

July 10

After supper I took a long cross-country walk ; got some
wonderful views and had some excellent cherries. My!
How the larks sang. They hover in the air and pour out
their notes till it seems that they must drop from exhaus-
tion. Then Frantz and I took a look over the church and
graveyard. The artificial wreaths and ornaments with
which the French decorate the graves are most hideous,
making the cemeteries look like factories.

August 17
In the afternoon an independent Boche plane slipped
over and fired, in their usual nervy way, two French
saucisses. Some of the English section who were looking
on applauded the nerve of the act, and a Frenchman near
by went to their CO. and made complaint. He was in-
formed, for his trouble, that he failed to understand the
sporting instinct of the English. The CO. was perfectly
correct.

Ambulance Hell

August 19
Well, it was a bit of hell last night. Perhaps not so much
of a trench hell, but a small-sized ambulance hell. I had
barely gone to bed and not yet to sleep when the call
came for four cars for Bras, of which mine was one. I got
away smoothly in the darkness, and to avoid the traffic
as much as possible took a roundabout way past the cita-
del and through the erstwhile city of Verdun. When I
reached the ruins of Belleville I began to run into con-
siderable traffic, but managed to slip by the ravitaille-
ment and in and out of the camion convoys until I had
passed over the Belleville Hill. Here my troubles began.

212

ABOVE VERDUN

THE VACHEKAUVILLE " POSTE " DURING THE FRENCH ATTACKS

OF AUGUST, 1917

SECTION EIGHTEEN

There was an endless procession of traffic moving in
both directions over a road that was about wide enough
for one. After making several attempts to get control of
the middle of the road, I ducked in behind a Buick of one
of our English friends, and there I stayed for about an
hour, now and then crawling a few hundred yards. Even
the little donkey carts passed me, nipping off pieces of
my car as they passed. The sky was lit up from artillery
fire on all sides. In front of us at Bras a camion, set on fire
by a wandering shell, was burning fiercely and making a
great reflection. Shells burst constantly in the neighbor-
hood, and every now and then a piece of shrapnel would
sing by. Besides the roar of the guns there were the steady
rattle and creak of the stream of passing vehicles. Of these
latter there was a most remarkable variety : the' little two-
wheeled, low-bodied ammunition wagons with donkeys
pulling them, one- or two-horse carts with canvas covers,
gun carriages, lumber trucks, horses single, tandem, three,
four, and five abreast, motor-cycles, staff cars, ambu-
lances, camionytettes, huge camions, every imaginable
vehicle, and every conceivable kind of military equip-
ment, all mixed, apparently inextricably, in the darkness.
Darting in among them were the omnipresent gendarmes
and road marshals, shouting orders in a mad attempt to
keep the traffic moving and the needs of a great attack
promptly served.

August 21
Early in the morning I passed a body of Boche prisoners
— a pretty hard-looking bunch and some of them quite
young. I was rather struck by the consideration shown
them by the French hrancardiers. It is true that many of
them were deprived of their insignia, masks, casques, etc.,
but permission was usually first asked and they were
generally given substitutes in exchange. The French are
like that. They fight ferociously, but cruelty to wounded
or prisoner enemies is an impossibility. A mistake when
dealing with the Boche!

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE
"Where Stand the Crosses, Row on Row "

Saturday, August 25
I WANDERED up to the morguc yesterday and watched
the soldiers appointed for that purpose go through the
pockets of the dead and prepare them for burial. It was
a gruesome sight. The one near-by cemetery has had
about three hundred additions in the last few days.

Wednesday, August 29
The funerals keep up. The grave-diggers are kept busy.
Every little while the cofhns go by in front of our hcLti-
ment and more mounds appear in the lot near by.

Ernest R. Schoen ^

^ Notes from an unpublished diary.

Ill

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

Section Eighteen remained stationed at the evacuation
hospital at La Veuve, near Chalons-sur-Marne in the Cham-
pagne, from the last of October until January 20, 191 8. Mean-
while it underwent great transformation. The personnel for
the most part changed, the places of the retiring members
being taken by men of old Section Seventy, which had hith-
erto driven Fiat cars. With its militarization the Section be-
came officially Section Six-Thirty-Six of the U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service. It was then attached to the Sy^ D.I. and went
in January, 1918, to Mourmelon-le-Grand, in the Champagne
in the "region of the Mounts," where the Division went into
line. The posies worked were a halfway station to Ham and
Bois Sacre, with M 4 as a reserve poste. The hospitals served
were Farman and Mourmelon-le-Petit, with calls to Chalons,
La Veuve, and Mont Frenet. The work was light, on the whole,
except for a few rather severe but short attacks by the Ger-
mans during March, the purpose of which was to camouflage
the intended attack on Amiens. The Section remained here
until April 2, when it gave over its posies to Section Fifteen,
and started en convoi for the Somme front.

Short stops were made at Avenay, Fismes, Pont-Sainte-
Maxence, on the Oise, Beauvais, and Amiens, our final canton-
ment being the little town of Taisnil. Immense preparations
were being made by both French and British on this front to
stop the supposed second German drive on Amiens. We spent
three weeks of waiting here.

The Germans, however, did not attack on Amiens, but on
the 27th commenced their Aisne-Marne drive. During the
night of May 31, the entire Division was moved in camions
toward the Aisne front. We followed in convoy the next morn-
ing, making Gournay-sur-Arronde that day, and Saint-Sau-
veur, in the edge of the Compiegne Forest the next. Finally,
on June 3, after a terrible convoy over jammed and dusty
roads, we reached Largny, a few kilometres outside of Villers-
Cotterets. We later took up permanent quarters in an old mill
at Vez. The work was very heavy, as the Germans were still
attacking, and we were in line here for thirty-eight days.

215

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

From the i ith to the 14th of June, coincident with their attack
in the Noyon-Montdidier sector, the Germans attacked this
front heavily, but only gained a foothold of about a kilometre
in depth. It was at this time that the French Renault light
tanks were first put into action. During the latter part of our
stay we took over pastes at the Carrefour de Cabaret and
at Montgobert, as well as continuing to serve the postes at
the Carrefour de Saut du Cerf, the 136th near Vertes-Feuilles,
Puiseux, and the G.B.D. at Villers-Cotterets, later moved to
Largny.

On July 12, we came out of line and went with the Division
to Pont-Sainte-Maxence again, for repos. On the morning of
July 15 we moved to La Fayel near by, and, on July 18, as
we began to get news of the Foch counter-offensive above
Soissons, moved again on a long dusty convoy to Villers-
Cotterets, and thence to Retheuil. We went to work immedi-
ately, aiding Section Two, which was serving the Colonial Di-
vision, working at Saint-Pierre-Aigle, the reserve poste, and
Vertes-Feuilles and Vierzy, front postes. We carried many Amer-
icans during this time. The next day we moved to Vivieres, and
our Division went in and relieved half the ist Division, and
half the French Colonial Division. Our postes were Lechelle,
Vierzy, Charentigny, Chaudun, with Dommiers as a reserve
poste, and later, Chazelle as a front poste. The work was ex-
tremely heavy all the time on account of the persistent attacks
for Buzancy and Villemontoire. We carried many wounded
from the famous Scotch Division, which contained, among
other units, the Black Watch and the Argyll Highlanders.
Conditions were terrible. Evacuation was some thirty-five
kilometres over crowded roads to Pierre fonds, a distance later
shortened somewhat by the taking of assis to Villers-Cotterets.
The Section was much shocked by the manner in which the
American ist Division left their dead lying unburied. Several
hundred were left in this fashion when the ist Division went
out of line. The French buried them as soon as they were able.
On August 2, the Germans retreated back to the Aisne and
Vesle, and the Division and Section came out of line on August
6, and back to Villers-Cotterets. A few days later we moved
to Dammartin, near Meaux. Then followed a speedy convoy,
through Chaumont, Neufchateau, and Epinal to the Vosges,
where the Division, now badly cut up, took a position sonie
twenty-five kilometres in extent in the line between Saint-Die
and Raon-l'Etape. Our French Division here broke into the
trenches the American 92d Division of negroes.

We moved again on September i, this time going to Lune-

216

SECTION EIGHTEEN

ville, on the Lorraine front. This sector was very quiet. We
were cantoned in the city itself, and worked pastes at small
villages at the front. The Division occupied a front of ten
kilometres. We remained here until October i8, when we went
near by to the famous manure-pile town of Xermamenil, and
three days later started a memorable convoy to the Champagne,
by way of Nancy, Toul, Ligny-en-Barrois, and Bar-le-Duc,
finally arriving at the little town of Dampierre-le-Chateau,
noted for the absence of the chateau. We spent a week here,
finally moving up, under secret orders, to a place on the old
line where a town called Ripont had been, where we lived
in old German dugouts. Then on to S6chault on the Sainte-
Menehould-Vouziers road, where we camped in the mud dur-
ing the Franco-American Argonne-Meuse attack of Novem-
ber I, expecting to go into action during the secondary stage
of the battle around Vouziers. But so quickly was the Grand-
pre-Vouziers salient reduced that the Division was not needed,
and we were sent back to Ripont, then to Suippes, and finally
to Bouy, near Mourmelon-le-Grand, in the Champagne, where
we were stationed when the Armistice was signed. Contrary
to our former visions of the great day, life went on about as
usual. We could not believe it was all over. Even the star-
shells the poiliis sent up at dusk failed to make us realize it.
We had driven over these same roads by their light during
nights of war.

A few days later, we started a long convoy to the Vosges,
by way of Vitry-le-Frangois, Saint-Dizier, and Neufchateau,
to Darney, where we remained a week. We then proceeded to
Le Thillot and by way of the Col de Bussang into "I'Al-
sace Reconquise" — through Wesserling, Thann, and Cernay,
finally arriving at Soultz, which the Germans had but re-
cently evacuated. Thanksgiving Day was duly celebrated at
the Alsatian town of Rouffach, in the inn of an old veteran of
the Franco-Prussian war. We then moved down to the fortress
town of Neuf-Brisach, on the Rhine, where we had a car sta-
tioned at the pontoon bridge, opposite Alt-Brisach on the bluff
across the river in the province of Baden, for the handling of
the sick among the returning prisoners. We had good quarters
in an old German officers' barracks.

In the middle of January, the Division was broken up, and
we were attached to the U.S.A. in Mulhouse. We remained
here until March 9, when we were ordered in to Paris, en
route for home.

Robert A. Donaldson^

^ See Section Seventy.

Section JVineteen

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Paul A. Rie
II. Charles C. Jatho

III. Frank G. Royce

IV. John D. Loughlin
V. Edward P. Shaw, 3D

SUMMARY

Section Nineteen left Paris on May i6, 191 7, going by way
of Saint-Dizier and Bar-le-Duc to La Grange-aux-Bois, arriv-
ing on May 19. It served the pastes of La Chalade and Chardon
in the wooded Argonne. The Section remained in this sector
for some time, going at last, on September 25, to Montereux,
and thence to Semoigne when it was taken into the U.S. Army
as Section Six-Thirty-Seven.

Section JVineteen

Give us a name to move the heart
With the strength that noble gifts impart,
A name that speaks of the blood outpoured
To save mankind from the sway of the sword, —
A name that calls on the world to share
In the burden of sacrificial strife
When the cause at stake is the world's free life
And the rule of the people everywhere, —
A name like a vow, a name like a prayer, —
I give you France 1

Henry van Dyke

La Grange-aux-Bois

La Grange-aux-Bois, May 22, 19 17
We pulled out of Paris May 16, after a gay farewell din-
ner at "21" the night before, and wound along up the
Marne Valley in a pouring rain to La Ferte-sous-Jouarre,
where we camped the first night. The next two nights we
spent in Saint-Dizier and Bar-le-Duc, and on the 19th the
convoy circled back through the more or less devas-
tated district southwest of Verdun to this village, where
we are to relieve Section Two and make our permanent
quarters.

We have unloaded our beds and bags in a large barn,
with holes in the roof and walls, and a really dirty dirt
floor, over which the rats and fleas frolic nightly. In the

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middle of the place are a wooden table and benches, and
here we take our meals.

The sanitary arrangements are the following: In the
morning when we are up and partly dressed, we take our
towels and other implements of toilet and wade through
a yard full of manure and mud to another manure-pile and
mud-heap, in another yard, where is a well, from which
can be extracted dark-brown water, with which we "ab-
lute" our hands and faces, and, once in a while, our teeth.

We have two front pastes, La Chalade and Chardon,
two men being assigned to each poste, and relieved every
twenty-four hours. To-day I am on poste duty at La
Chalade, which is an old abbey partly destroyed by shell-
fire, and located in a little open valley between wooded
hills, with the ruins of a tiny village in the rear of it
toward the lines. The ground rises gradually from the
abbey, and the crest of the slope must mark the front-
line trenches, as the ground in the distance near the sum-
mit assumes that white, barren look one associates with
the idea of No Man's Land, and the only trees which
break the skyline are the torn and leafless trunks of what
was certainly at one time a flourishing forest. The build-
ing itself, except for the chapel, which is partially de-
stroyed, is used as a dressing-station. Of the chapel, one
side-altar alone remains, and there mass is said every
morning by one of the brancardiers who is a priest. The
main part of the abbey, which must have served originally
as quarters for the monks and was later remodelled to
serve as a private home, is a large, barnlike construction.
The interior is bare except for the cots and rough tables
of the brancardiers. It is impossible to describe the charm
and picturesqueness this old abbey has for us, but I 'm
wondering if perhaps it is n't partly because it marks
the scene of our first work at the front. For when the reali-
zation comes that it is the dreamed-of moment, that one
is actually serving France, actually in the war at last, the
surroundings of that moment, however ordinary, are for-
ever after colored with romance.

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Chardon — La Chalade

May 26
We are never very much exposed to direct fire, but we
have to pass over a road that is occasionally shelled. For
instance, after the bombardment of the roads and neigh-
boring fields this afternoon, there was only one hlessL I
flipped a coin with the other fellow on duty to see who
would take him back to town. I won, and as there had
been no shell for about ten minutes, I went out in front
of the abbey to crank my car, when, just as I was in the
very act of cranking, another shell fell too close to me
for comfort. I almost had a fit at the explosion; however,
outside of earth fragments, nothing hit me. But no sooner
had I got out on the road, driving like mad to get out
of the danger zone, than another shell came down just
alongside the highway, and I was again given something
of a fright. When we hear them whistle, we just duck
into the ahri and await developments, after which we
go out and walk around until we hear the next one com-
ing. It is all untranslatable in letters.

To-morrow I go on duty at Chardon, and we drove
up there this morning to learn the roads. Although the
poste there is only a little distance from La Chalade, it is
an entirely different sort of place. The road to it leads up
a steep hill through the thick Argonne woods, and the
poste itself Is a little underground dugout with dirt and
logs piled on top, the entrance alone being visible. We left
our car before the door, descended a few steps, and passed
through a little passageway into a small, roughly fur-
nished room which looked for all the world like the cabin
of a ship. The room was lighted by a small window, dug
out from the outside, and was furnished with a table
littered with books and papers, one or two rough chairs,
a field telephone in the corner, and on the Inside wall a
curtained berth where the doctor in charge of the poste
slept. In the rear of this room was the kitchen, with sleep-
ing-quarters for some of the brancardiers and a rear exit
leading out into the communication trenches.

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At Chardon we are provided with rough cots and straw
mattresses and we take with us only our blankets, of
which I am glad I have four, because I sleep with one
folded below me. We are also much better fed at the
pastes than at the cantonment, because we eat with the
officers. In fact, our coffee is usually brought to us in bed.
The entire neighboring trench system is worked out like a
miniature city, with sidewalks, sewers, and steps leading
in and out, with everything about as comfortable as it
can be made.

May 28
Sunday morning I went out to the paste and had a very
quiet day, sitting in the woods writing letters. After lunch,
served in a sheltered summer-house, with the two doctors,
there was a little bombarding about a quarter of a mile
away, but nothing serious. At supper we had a half-
dozen young and jovial aide-majors and the Bishop of
La Reunion, near Madagascar, who is a good sport.
After supper we telephoned to an old Artillery Captain,
at his battery near by, and invited ourselves for the eve-
ning. We walked through boyaux and barbed wire until
we came to the old boy's dugout, where we were received
in style and entertained right jovially until about ten
o'clock. Unfortunately and unavoidably, I am forced to
drink pinard, or whatever else is offered, and, although
I dislike it intensely, it has absolutely no effect upon me.
If I had refused the sherry of the old captain, he would
have been mortally offended ; so I was compelled to im-
bibe it in small gulps.

May 31
Last night, Willcox, Putnam, Johnson, and I walked
through the back streets of our village, which is quite
pretty once you get off the main road, and reached the
church just in time to hear mass, which we sat through
to the end. The service was rather gruesome. The acolyte
was in regular soldier's uniform, with his gas-mask hang-

224

12;

H
W
H

H
(»
O

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ing from his belt, and all the prayers had a military bear-
ing — for peace, for the wounded and dead, for camarades
in peril, and for the widows and orphans. Of course there
were only soldiers present, all busy interceding for Divine
grace.

Sainte-Menehould, June lo
This afternoon I had to drive three blesses to this place,
and afterwards Jimmy and I stopped to visit the military
cemetery, where are over four thousand little crosses,
squeezed side by side with small tricolored cocardes on
them. It was one of the most depressing sights I have seen,
because the majority of the graves were quite bare, with-
out any wreath or sign of remembrance on them. Once
in a while we saw a dirty little bead crown or wreath, in-
scribed "^ mon mari" or "A notre fits," which made the
grave even more tragic because it helped us to imagine
still more fully the misery thrust upon that particular
family. Then I thought of the man who held the contract
for the cofhns, those who manufactured the flowers and
cockades, and who were coining money out of every-
body's misery — all of which caused still more unpleasant
thoughts. After the visit to the cemetery, we drove to the
hospital and took some fruit to Dougherty, who is in bed
there with some kind of malarial fever.

A Night's Work

Wednesday, June 13
Yesterday afternoon, after writing some letters and cards
at the poste, I went out in the rain and changed a flat tire
on my car. As I have only a very hazy notion of the
technique of tire-changing, I made a considerable mess
of the job, but finally got the old thing fixed somehow.
Then I went in and played an excellent game of chess
with Belcher, a fellow twenty-four years old, a chem-
ist from Boston, and a shark at chess. Result — a draw.
Next we had supper, and after supper Belcher and I sat
in our cars talking religion and socialism. About 9.15, just

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as it was growing dark, we heard a tremendous crash
near by, followed by various minor explosions. Immedi-
ately afterwards the mitrailleuses began a terrific rattle
that sounded like a boy grating a stick along an iron
railing. We began to prick up our ears and make all sorts
of conjectures; but pretty soon we knew all about it,
because we heard a cheery hissing all around us and the
branches breaking in the trees too close to us to be agree-
able and safe. So deciding that discretion was the better
part of valor, we slid out in a hurry and rushed for the
hoyau, from which we had a splendid worm's-eye view
of the bombardment that followed. There was nothing
to see, but altogether too much to hear, and for a full
half-hour the place shook and the air was full of a tremen-
dous noise.

There was a battery of "75's" very close to us, and
their sharp, whiplike crack drowned almost everything
else. Once in a while, though, we could make out the
trolley-car sound of the " 150's" as they trundled through
the air, and, when there was a second's interruption in
the French fire, we heard the German shells exploding in
our trenches, and the unceasing rattle of the mitrail-
leuses. Once there was a hiss, a sizzle, and a thud quite
close to us, and we knew a German shell had hit and
missed fire. This performance continued unabated for a
full half-hour, and then everything relapsed into dead
silence and pitch darkness.

We knew then that we must get some business from
all that firing, and so we did not go to bed at all, but
played solitaire until 11 P.M., when we received our first
'phone call informing us that a German coup de main
had been brilliantly repulsed and that the wounded
Frenchmen were beginning to be sent to the pastes de
secours. About midnight the advanced paste 'phoned us
for one car, and I went up there in the pitch blackness
and ran a trifle beyond the place before I noticed my
error. However, a friendly star-shell loomed gracefully
up over the top of the woods and I righted myself very

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soon, then I was given a couchc shot in the thigh, but
not suffering much. I ran slowly back with him to the
main poste where I took on a hrancardier for company as
a lookout, because the night was dark and a lone couche
is mighty poor comfort. We made the trip to La Grange
in good time and returned de meme. As I was going along
a part of the road where I could use lights, a hare sprang
up in front of us and ran several hundred yards in the
stupid zigzag peculiar to its kind, finally disappearing
into the ditch. I only wish I could have got him, as he
would have been a fine addition to our next meal.

On the return trip, after I had eteint tous les feux, I was
going along fairly well when all of a sudden my hrancar-
dier yelled, ''Attention ! Attention! II y a quelque chose";
and sure enough, coming the other way was Belcher and
his car. We had neither of us seen the other approach and
we escaped a collision by about an inch. The result was
that we both stopped dead still ; Belcher, his hrancardier
and three couches in the middle of the road; I and my
hrancardier, who was on the front seat, with the Ford
crouching on the top of a pile of paving-stones poised for
a spring, with its motor still going and no tires punctured.
After congratulating ourselves on the lucky escape, we
all climbed out and, grasping my car by the four corners,
placed her gently back on the road again, following
which I went on back to the poste, where I was told to
keep right on going to the advanced poste in order to
collect three couches. This I did, and ran them back most
of the way without trouble. Unfortunately, however, we
struck a dense fog, in the midst of which I narrowly es-
caped running down another one of our cars that had
been summoned to the rescue. Finally, au heau milieu,
the same tire that I had changed in the afternoon gave an
agonized gasp and passed peacefully away. Fortunately,
this happened in a place where lights could be used, and
after looking for a nice spot, I stopped, unloaded the
blesses on the road, and went to work in the mud. The
blesses all complained of the damp, so I immediately

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pulled out my little whiskey flask, and the hrancardier
and the three blesses soon drained It very gratefully. As
I was in the midst of the tlre-changlng, Belcher came
back ; so I stopped him and gave him the three fellows
to hustle through to La Grange. Then I returned to the
poste In the very early dawn, about 4 a.m., only to find
two more couches at the advanced poste. I got those into
La Grange about 4.45, and that early damp dawn was
the coldest part of the night. Then I took my heavy over-
coat at the cantonment and a cup of tea at the hospital
and drove back like a lunatic. It was 5.45 and broad day-
light when I lay me down to sleep, just removing my coat
and shoes. But I was awakened about 9 by the old Bishop
poking his head Into our dungeon and condoling cheer-
fully with us for our hard work. Finally, about 10 a.m., we
got up, and Belcher went down with a couple of malades,
while I was Invited to a special luncheon with the Bishop,
an artillery captain, and several doctors. It was a great
and wonderful meal — three meat courses, besides the
other trifles, and a pie of wild strawberries picked In the
woods. We were at table from 12 to 2.30, and after lunch
I drove down to La Grange with the Bishop.

By the way, this morning when I was putting my
bundle in my car, I found a German mitrailleuse bullet
on the ground just alongside; so I am glad I went indoors
when I did. Furthermore, the unexploded "77" was also
found a few yards away, where I saw It lying Innocently
on the ground before the artillery authorities removed it.

June 18
To-DAY I was on hospital duty and was called upon to
take a Boche prisoner to Souilly. The poor devil was para-
lyzed and In plaster from the hips down and was as thin
as a rail, having been two and a half months in bed and
having had three operations performed on him. He was a
decent youngster, and Bert Willcox, who came along for
the ride, clubbed together with me to get him a couple
of oranges to suck on the way. When we had got rid of

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SECTION NINETEEN

him, we drove to Fleury-sur-Aire, where there is an im-
mense hospital and evacuation centre, splendidly organ-
ized, and seemingly well managed.

We were there to fetch some ice for our hospital, but we
also succeeded in begging a goodly lump for ourselves, so
that when we returned in the evening we had cold drinks
for supper and a wonderful macedoine glacee of peaches,
oranges, and cherries. By the way, we are in the heart of
the cherry country, where we can buy them for seventy
centimes per kilogramme, and they are delicious. We have
also managed to get beer for the boys, instead of pinard,
and we are living very economically, saving quite a lot of
money. Out of our 4 francs 45 allowance, we probably
spend at the very most 3 francs 50 per day. For that, we
have everything that is going, including salmon and lob-
ster and fine Bordeaux wines, ordered specially from the
central cooperative store in Paris.

A Coup de Main

July 5
Day before yesterday, after a Boche coup de main at four
o'clock in the morning, I had to go to one of the advanced
posies for two couches. One of them was literally squashed
flat, and almost dead when they put him aboard. The
other had his leg crushed very badly, and was suffering
terribly from the tourniquet that bound his thigh. We
lost no time in reaching the hospital, but one of the men
had died in the car, and was already cold when we took
him out. The old white-bearded priest had come down
with me through the ice-cold morning mist, and when we
reached the hospital and found our man dead, he pulled a
little vial of holy oil from some hidden recess about his
person, and proceeded to anoint the poor fellow's fore-
head with it. The soldier with the crushed leg had it am-
putated at once, but died during the afternoon from loss
of blood.

After a cup of comforting hot coffee, I went back to the
abbey and watched the priest in full robes say his early

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morning mass at 6.30 in the sunny chapel. I was the whole
congregation — I and some sparrows and two dead poilus
on stretchers, the most horribly mutilated objects I ever
expect to see, both hit in the head and blown to pieces.
The old priest — Father Cleret is his name — wiggled
his long white beard, mumbled his prayers, drank his
sacred pinard, bowed the knee the regulation number of
times, and finally turned, blessed the congregation, and
then walked out after shedding his decorations.

This old priest, by the way, is far less urbane and pleas-
ant than the Bishop, but rather better fitted for the job.
For instance, this morning, after a coup de main he went
out between the lines, picked up a wounded soldier and
carried him a considerable distance on his back — which
for an old boy of sixty-odd years is a lot of work. For his
trouble, he will be able to add a palm leaf to his Croix de
Guerre.

July 14
This evening, after a big supper, we went to the Division
Headquarters to a concert, sang some songs, and then
gave a burlesque boxing match — "Shorty" Loughlin
against one of the tallest men in the Section, with myself
as umpire, in my best line of comic French. Of course,
" Shorty " knocked out the big fellow, and we rushed on a
team of comedy brancardiers and hauled off the victim on
a stretcher, to the great amusement of the onlookers.

July 29

Last night, after a bombardment of one of the batteries,
about twenty- five wounded were brought in. From 10.30
until I A.M. they kept rolling in, and Mac and I stayed at
the hospital and watched the operations. The first one I
saw was performed under X-rays, and what with the
smell and the horror of it all, I was as near fainting as I
ever expect to be. After that I felt better and watched
three or four other operations in all parts of the body, with
considerable interest. We have a couple of excellent sur-

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SECTION NINETEEN

geons, and they worked like beavers all through the night,
operating at two tables in the main operating-room
and at another table in the radio chamber. They just ran
from one operation to another with the alertness and
skill of specialized mechanics turning out their work in
batches. At one time there were fifteen men around one
table, all working at once on the same wretched patient.
Once in a while one of us would have to hold a leg or an
arm, or raise the head, or help in any way we could. It
was altogether unpleasant, and I am glad I never took
seriously to surgery, although I admire surgeons' work
intensely.

Paul A. Rie ^

1 Of Neuilly-sur-Seine, France; Rugby (England), '14; served in Section
Nineteen from its formation, and later as Sergeant, first class, U.S.A. Am-
bulance Service. The above are extracts from home letters.

Notes from the Front

Decoration Day, 19 17
In the afternoon some of the Section went up In the ceme-
tery above La Grange-aux-Bois and decorated the grave
of Howard Lines, who died of pneumonia In Section One
last winter. A delegation of six were also sent to Blercourt,
near Verdun, for the purpose of decorating the grave of
Edward Kelley, of Section Two, who was killed by a shell
during the Verdun attack of last year. Car 630 of this
Section was given as a memorial to him.

June 27
LOUGHLIN and Alexander paid a visit to one of the French
observation pastes. While there, a bombardment on the
part of the Germans commenced. Not long after a report
became current that some French officers were threaten-
ing to arrest them as spies. So one of the officers of the
Section hurried to the poste to prevent the two from being
sent to Paris as spies, when it was learned that the French
officers were looking for them in order to invite them to
dinner!

Sunday, July 22
La Chalade, our outpost, has been bombarded. A num-
ber of " 150's" have been firing with ruinous effect upon
the old monastery, as well as playing havoc with the
roads. There are no Sabbaths In war-time. Here the boom-
ing of the guns answers for a church bell, the trenches are
the pews and the preacher is — hope.

July 26
A DELIGHTFUL addition to the evening's repast in the
form of a good cake, the handiwork of Pecqueux, and

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some champagne, in honor of Lieutenant Lory's birth-
day. Chef MacPherson, in a few brief words, toasted him,
and the Lieutenant thanked the men in a well-chosen
reply.

Just now the night calls are by far the most exciting.
Four men are always ready to respond. Up and down
hill, dark with the overhanging trees and sable night —
brightened, sometimes, for a moment by the flash of
lightning, or star-shells — they go forth to the needy with
some such feeling as Ichabod Crane must have had on
his midnight ride.

August 4
Last night the Germans attempted a coup de main near
our poste at Lac and eight of our ambulances were needed
to carry the wounded. To-day a Section library was
started in a room near the office and Chef MacPherson
has promised two lamps. All the books, newspapers,
and magazines possessed by individuals are to be handed
over to the library for the use of all.

August 12

Pastor Kuntzel, Protestant chaplain to one of the
neighboring regiments, held, in the tent adjoining the
mess-tent, a service for the men of the Section. The
novelty of the service to us was the singing of the hymns
in French.

August 28
To-night the men made use of the new library. The
weather was damp and cold, so a roaring fire was started
in the fireplace, and we gathered round while Taliaferro
led in the singing. Mac played the mandolin, while Lieu-
tenant Lory entered into the spirit of the evening and
furnished the treats. A French soldier with a not unpleas-
ant voice sang several opera selections. Hot roasted pota-
toes, war bread, and pinard were served during the inter-
missions.

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September 24
This afternoon Captain Tucker and Lieutenant Webster
arrived to enrol the men in the United States Army serv-
ice. Seventeen men enlisted.

September 26
Ordered to move this morning, we rose at 6.30. The day
was sunny, but not too warm. By 10 most of the cars were
ready and men restless. We started at 12.10, and passed
through Sainte-M6nehould, leaving behind us both pleas-
ant and unpleasant memories, traversing three miles
of level, cultivated fields now brown with autumn color,
then up a few not too tedious hills, by patches of green
still peeking from amid the brown. Interrupted now and
then by a small wooden cross, the grave of some com-
rade of the Marne. The long white roads stretched as far
as the eye could reach. The kitchen trailer had the saddest
misfortune of the journey, for it never showed up till the
day following, being left forsaken, "somewhere in France,"
while we arrived at the little lazy village where we are
now camped.

September 27
Life at the new encampment started with a trip to the
rescue of the kitchen trailer, which was discovered about
three kilometres down the road, supported on one wheel,
the opposite end of the axle, and, more or less, by three
of its four legs. The rescue party, after energetic efforts
with a couple of jacks and some hammers and wrenches,
finally had the wreck ready to roll, and drawn by the
White camion it arrived at the village in time to give us
lunch only a half-hour late.

Montereux, September 28
Word came from the Medecin Chef to move to this village
where we are now en repos in a large chS,teau with a fire-
place in every room and lots of pine boughs to keep the
fires replenished. Good Old Montereux!

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October 26

With everything in readiness to move, the men were
awakened at 5.30. In groups of three we set forth to our
respective positions. Each group had been assigned to a
certain contingent on the march to pick up all who fell
out, and our cars were kept busy all the time. Every road
is burdened with soldiers, pack-trains, gun carriages, bag-
gage-animals, wagons, smoking kitchens, trailers, and
ambulances. The day was cold and gray. A mist hugged
the ground, which was so thick that the marching sol-
diers looked like a phantom army appearing for a minute
only to be lost to view again. In and out of the mist one
could see the busy little ambulances, darting, dodging,
and snarling up and down hills, through dirty, ruined
towns carrying the sick and footsore. We put up for the
night in an old, deserted house, cold and uninviting,
where it was dark when the cars began to arrive,

October 27

Up at 5.30. Like ants on a loaf of bread the cars climbed
the neighboring hills for another day's hard work. Another
town to sleep in, with thirty-five in the garret of an inn.

Martyred Reims

Reims, November 21
The guns are roaring. Hardly a house but has a scar. In
one park of the city is an arch — erected by Csesar to
Mars, the God of War. What a grim joke to the shell- torn
city! This evening there was a coup de main. Many shells
were sent in. It is raining. Think of the soldiers in the
trenches !

Reims, November 30

I WISH I could adequately describe my first Impressions on
beholding this city. Imagine yourself suddenly thrust into
a deserted town, where all the marks of former beauty
and prosperity remain even in the midst of ruins. The
church bells are silent. The car tracks no longer rattle to

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the moving tram. The shops which had formerly echoed
to the merry laughter, the gossip and confusion of bargain
days, are silent, deserted, and many are crumbled heaps
of plaster and bricks. Piles of debris fill all the streets.
Broken glass lies everywhere. Whole blocks have been
burned or shell-torn to mere skeletons of chimmeys and
walls. Over all, the spires of the cathedral still cast their
holy shadow, like a mother determined to defend her
home and her children from all wrong. Silently we steered
our cars along the paved way — no traffic or busy shop-
pers to be dodged, no traffic policemen to stop us; only
a wounded city and a few shells to tell us our mission.

December i
One week half the men under Sergeant Shaw take up
their work at Reims, while the rest of the men, under
Sergeant Bigelow, do evacuation work at Soissons. The
two groups change places every other week. At Reims
the quarters are comfortable, some of the men being
lodged in a house formerly occupied by a prosperous wine
merchant. A garage close by furnishes a protection for the
cars. Some men live at the hospital, a large affair where
the great rooms for the sick and wounded are twenty-five
feet underground. At Soissons we have a barn and a dark,
dirty house to live in. The barn is much the worse of the
two. At Reims there is some activity, but not so much
as advertised. Every fair day sees many aeroplane bat-
tles. The shells come in frequently. We have been occu-
pied lately in carrying gassed men.

Charles Conrad Jatho ^

^ Of Albany, New York; Cambridge Episcopal Theological School;
joined Section Nineteen in June of 1917, served in the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service during the remainder of the war. These quotations are from an un-
published record of events.

LOADING THE AMBULANCE

Ill

" Redpants" and a Repast

Fleury, ii a.m., June i8, 1917
At 6.30, just as we were going to eat, I had to go out again,
on to this village about twenty miles away, this time with
a fellow who had been hurt in an accident. We got over
here around 7.30. The fellow who waited on us — "Red-
pants" we nicknamed him — tended to the telephone. He
asked the French non-commissioned officer who had come
with me, and who was formerly the Liverpool agent of
the French steamer line, if he had ever used a telephone.
"Redpants" had to leave his poste to attend to us and
thought maybe the brigadier could ask people to wait till
"Redpants" returned if they called him at central. The
brigadier said he had seen a telephone used once or twice ;
but "Redpants" would not trust him. By this time we
were getting a little hungry, and asked "Redpants" if
it were possible to get something to eat from one of the
kitchens. "Redpants," who evidently stands in awe of all
authority, said he would ask the Medecin Chef, and see.
We politely told him to go to the Dickens, as we thought,
under the circumstances, the cook was the person to be
seen, not the doctor. Then we tackled the men's and
officers' kitchens; but both were closed. However, in the
meantime, we had seen some nurses in white eating, and
I told the brigadier I thought we could count on them to
get us what we wanted. So I finally got up my nerve
and, in my beautiful French, tried to ask for a little
bread, whereupon I was immediately invited to come
in and have a regular meal. The lady in charge, who had
the Croix de Guerre with the palm leaf, went to a lot of
trouble for us and we had quite a feast — beef, ham, bread
and butter (a luxury), jelly, nuts, cheese, and figs. We
were informed later that what was done for us was quite

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irregular, "though done for us with pleasure." The lady,
who spoke English, said her mother was an American.
When " Redpants" came up for us, he was overawed and
must have thought us very, very big guns, for afterwards
we learned that the lady with the Croix de Guerre, who
had so kindly entertained us, was no other than the
daughter of M. Clemenceau, the former Prime Minister
of France!

" FiNARD ET Canon "

II a.m., June 2$
Last night a few of us went with the French Lieutenant
and MacPherson, the American Sous-Chef, to a very
interesting concert where songs of all kinds were given.
There was one which the poilus and we ourselves liked
especially about the ^'emhusques,'" who "proudly and
patriotically" proclaim that "we must fight to the end"
and then take a back seat. Another was to the effect that
the poilus had had their fill of "pinard et canon,''' the
former being the rank wine of which we all have allow-
ances, and the latter guns — of which we also have a fair
allowance! The former is terrible stuff, and I do not
drink it except at posies where the water is bad. There was
also a song in English. The really impressive ones, how-
ever, were two of a far different sort — one a flag song
with chorus and band, very moving, and a tenor solo
about "those sweet and happiest moments when we rest
while on the march, close our eyes and see a white house
and the family there, and the birds swinging in the trees
— every one happy." That was the gist of the French
words. It was sung wonderfully well and was not too
sentimental, even for an American.

It is fine to be with such a splendid bunch of men. For
instance, at this concert we could look around and see
fellows who had been wounded two or three times and
have returned to the trenches. Then there was a very
snappy and likable lieutenant who knew a little English,
and was generous with his cigarettes, and whose men

238

SECTION NINETEEN

hung around him as though they rather worshipped

him.

June 29

We pick cherries, now, and live a life of ease. There are
lots of huckleberries, too, and we eat not a few, but it is
too bad to have so many of them without any pie or
cake.

Father Claret

July I
We have just had a very good dinner to celebrate the
return of Father Cleret, a fine old Catholic priest, with
the Croix de Guerre, who must be between sixty and
seventy, but in good physical condition. He has worked
as stretcher-bearer — no child's play — although that is
not part of his prescribed task at all. A couple of months
ago he carried in, all by himself, a wounded soldier from
the front-line trenches. All in all he is a very fine old man.
He was telling us to-night of a friend of his, a major,
who had had two sons killed in the war, who had four
other sons in dangerous work, and who, because too old
to go to the front without special permission, had asked
the priest to help him get transferred. The doctor asked
if it would not trouble the priest's conscience to help send
a friend to the firing-line. The old priest was a little
aroused, and replied somewhat to this effect: "No, it
would not make my conscience prick. If it be the best
for France, it ought to be done, and my conscience would
prick if I did n't do it." This may sound rather flat and
melodramatic as I tell it, but if you had been there to see
and hear the aged ecclesiastic, the whole scene would
have impressed you as it did me.

The other day, when one of the attacking divisions
went through our village, one of our fellows spoke with
a soldier, not a commissioned officer either, about how he
felt concerning the war. "Well," said the private, "I
have seen three years of this fight and, if necessary, I am
ready for three years more." And in that division this

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fellow had seen more than the average man of the hellish
side of this struggle. It is the spirit of the major, of the
old priest, and of this soldier, which cheers one up when
one hears so much of France being ready to stop.

Strawberries — A Church — Observation

Clermont-en-Argonne, July lo
This village, up to which we have climbed, is on the top
of a very high, partially wooded hill. We went up onto
the roof of the church, which has been shot to pieces very
badly and is not very solid, much of the roof being miss-
ing, though some parts are fairly safe. We got a beautiful
view from there. Some wild strawberries were growing in
the earth and debris on the roof. No novelist would ever
have had the courage to suggest that his hero was pick-
ing wild strawberries on an old church roof in sight of
enemy observation pastes, five or six miles away; for we
were in sight and were told to go down. The reason for
this order was not that the people who are in sight will
get hurt, because in spite of the "modernity" of instru-
ments of war, hitting two people at five or six miles' range
cannot be done very easily, to say the least. The reason is
that the Germans, seeing somebody "observing" from a
certain point, conclude that there must be something
happening or going to happen soon at that village. So
the batteries are ordered to bombard the place, and then
there is apt to be "hell to pay" in said village. However,
nothing of the kind occurred to-day. Perhaps the enemy
did not see us, or more likely they felt that no one who
knew his business would be observing them from where
we were.

T, p.m., July 27,

Last night the Bishop, the dentist, and I indulged in a
sort of game of dominoes with cards, v/here we had to
pay the large sum of a penny when we could not play a
card. Gambling with a Bishop in an ahri on a Sunday
evening with shells sailing overhead — it 's a great life!

240

SECTION NINETEEN

3.30 p.m., August 2
The poor fellow whom I last brought down was in terrible
agony and plainly dying. On account of the nature of the
wound, or rather one of his wounds, he was unable to
talk even if he was conscious, which perhaps he was not ;
but he could not help groaning. If you want something
nice to do some day, take a Ford, attach to it a heavy
ambulance body, put inside the ambulance a young fellow
twenty-three years of age who has been grievously hurt
and is passing away in great pain, then drive him eight
miles to a hospital, over a road with bumps which jolt
the car despite all that you can do, mix in a hill more than
a half-mile long to climb, and finally arrive at your des-
tination with the man still alive, though groaning. And
at the end, you feel so good at having that eight-mile
ride over that you want to throw a stone through a win-
dow, or dance, or punch somebody or something. What
soothes you a little is to have the hrancardier, who has
accompanied the dying man, say, "You have driven
well." It is not the many words the French usually em-
ploy when they are being pleasant, but the manner of
saying them and the circumstances under which they
are said which make them eloquent.

Prediction and Fulfilment

4.45 p.m., August 7
A PECULIAR coincidence has just occurred. When the sol-
diers are going back and forth, they frequently say a few
joking words to us about saving a place in the ambulance
for them, and our favorite reply is that they are going to
get a slight wound and that we will take them down in
the morning. To-day, about an hour ago, a rather jolly
bunch came along and I joked with one to this effect.
Well, just this minute Bigelow had a call and brought
back a couche with a bullet in his hip, the bullet having
evidently broken the bone. It was my friend for whom I
said I would save a place. He was conscious, joked a good
deal about his wound, and when I said he was early and

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that the place had been saved for to-morrow morning, he
thought it was a great joke. His hip pained him, of course;
but these poilus never make much of a fuss about pain,
and he evidently thought it was fine to see me again and
remind me of his reservation.

8.15 p.m., August 22
Well, we have said our real good-byes to the Bishop.
To-night he was here, shook hands all around, and kissed
the Frenchman on both cheeks, and he is gone. He is a
man whom we all have liked. ''Gentil, spirituel, et aimable,
il avail aussi un savoir-faire tres agreahle.'' That is what
they say, anyhow, and my English will not express it
any better.

Montereux, September 29
Yesterday we moved again on short notice, and we are
now located in an old chateau at this place, and still en
repos. At 10 we received orders to get out by 12, which was,
of course, impossible; but by 2 o'clock all our personal
belongings were in the cars, our office was packed, two
tents were down and ready to go, the machine shop on
wheels, we had eaten our noon meal, and the last cars
were on the road. At quarter to 7 that night our new
bureau was established, our stretchers and beds were
placed, kitchen set going, and a tent pitched, in which we
ate. Quite a day's work.

Frank G. Royce ^

1 Of Fulton, New York; Cornell, '19; entered the Field Service and
Section Nineteen in April, 1917; U.S.A. Ambulance Service in France dur-
ing the remainder of the war. The above are excerpts from a private diary.

Christmas

Christmas Day, 191 7
The morning of the day before Christmas we spent in
getting a Christmas tree and decorating the dining-room
with evergreens and holly. Shaw and Smith were respon-
sible for the artistic manipulation of the evergreens, and
if you had seen the room you would have said it was
cleverly done. That afternoon some of the boys were
sitting around our ''salamandre'' trying to melt some of
the snow off their shoes, when some one spoke up: "Say,
fellows, what do you say if we chip in and buy the kids
of the school some toys and candy? I think we would all
be happy to do them a good turn." Everybody seconded
the motion and collections were in order. Within a half-
hour two hundred francs were brought together and Ser-
geant Shaw and myself were on the way to the nearest
big city to get the gifts.

Our cantonment is in a typical French town of about
three hundred inhabitants, where the fangs of the war
demon have sunk deep and hurt. Yet the villagers have
the characteristic peasant optimism, and if you could
have seen those people you would have contributed your-
self.

When the "committee" arrived in the big city, we went
to a little store, in the front window of which were dis-
played some Christmas toys, and bought nearly all of
them. The fact is we bought seventy-three toys and some
cakes and candy, as there were thirty-six boys and thirty-
seven girls in the school.

This morning Smith again exercised his artistic talent
and arranged the toys on and around the bottom of the
tree, so that when three o'clock rolled around the tree was
all ready for the children, whom the teachers marched

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down to the dining-room, in double file, regardless of a
heavy snow then falling. When the procession arrived, we
pulled down the curtains and lit the candles on the tree.
Then the children were invited in and they surely were
a surprised bunch of kids.

We did n't keep them waiting long, but relieved their
anxiety by giving out the presents at once. Jatho, who
in the States had had much experience in this useful
service, lent valuable assistance, while Shaw, Hope, and
Smith distributed the toys, cake, and candy. As soon as
this was done, the children passed out, and soon, from the
street, through the open door, came the sound of the
beating of drums, the blowing of trumpets, the shouts
of admiration for their toys, and requests for more candy.
Then back to their homes, through the falling snow,
the children plodded, each bearing, beside a little gift,
a gladdened heart.

In the evening we had our own good time, a Christmas
supper — and it was "some" supper, too. We started ofT
with soup, beefsteak and mushrooms, turkey and mashed
potatoes, green peas, salad, plum pudding and rum, can-
died fruit, marshmallows and nuts, winding up with
black cofTee. During the courses white and red wine and
champagne were served. And thus ended a memorable
day in the life of Section Nineteen.

John D. Loughlin ^

1 Of Brooklyn, New York; Cornell, '17; served with Section Nineteen of
the Field Service and later in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service. The above is
from a home letter.

sumi^iary of the section's history under the
United States Army

Section Nineteen was visited by recruiting officers Septem-
ber 24, 19 1 7, while working in the sector of the Argonne be-
tween the Four-de-Paris and the Avocourt Woods. Men were
enUsted on that day, although the Section did not become part
of the American army until later.

On September 26, 191 7, the Section went en repos at Se-
moigne, south of Chalons-sur-Marne, the following day mov-
ing to Montereux close by. At the commencement of the Aus-
trian rush into Italy, our Division, the 65th, was at Camp
Mailly, and it at once started for Dormans on foot, the Sec-
tion following. This march took three days. Then the Division
entrained for Italy and we were detached, going to Troissy
en repos.

We stayed there until the middle of November, when we
became attached to the 58th Division of Infantry, with v/hom
we stayed the rest of the war. The liaison took place at Reims,
where we served Clos Saint-Remy, the Fromargerie, etc., until
the Division was_ relieved on January 17, 1918. The 58th
passed through Epernay toward Chalons-sur-Marne again,
the Section having one-night stands until it finally reached
Noirlieu. Later it moved to Sainte-Menehould.

On March 19, 1918, the Division and Section moved into
the Butte de Mesnil sector of Champagne, where several cars
were hit and the men had enough work for once.

Later the Division was relieved and sent through Chalons,
through Epernay, Pierrefonds, Compi^gne, to Moyenneville,
where it was holding the line on both sides of Cuvilly on June 9,
1918.

The Boche attacked here on June 9, and captured among
other things eight of our cars and three of our men. The Sec-
tion, under orders with the whole Division, retired to Estrees-
Saint-Denis, that night moving to Eraine, Saint-Remy-en-
I'Eau, and finally to Valescourt on June 14.

The Infantry of the 58th had been all shot to pieces, so we
were given three new regiments and made an attacking divi-
sion — something we had always wanted.

On the 17th of July, we moved over to Vivieres, and on the
18th the Aisne-Marne battle started. On the 19th, our C.B.D,

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was moved to Vertes Feuilles with pastes de secours in Vierzy.
Here we worked between the United States 1st and 2d Di-
visions.

After our Division had taken all its objectives, we were re-
lieved on the 25th of July, returning to Saint-Remy again.

The Division went into line opposite Chevincourt, cleaned
the famous Thiescourt Plateau, and took part of Noyon. We
came out on September i, going again to Estrees-Saint-Denis.

On September 24 the Section moved to La Croix Ricard,
Genvry, and on to Chauny on the 27th. The Division went
into line in front of Tergnier, and when our men came out
en repos, several days after the Armistice, the front pastes
were in Belgium. The Section moved up behind the troops as
follows: To Le Mont de Faux December 7; Montcornet, De-
cember 14; Aubenton, January 25, 1919; and later to Rimogne,
where on March 15, 1919, we were relieved by S.S.U. 547,
and proceeded to Base Camp, eit raute for the United States.

Our three prisoners were all returned alive, one returning
to the Section December 25, 191 8. The Section received a di-
visional citation for its work on June 9.

E. P. Shaw '

* Of Brookline, Massachusetts; Dartmouth; with Section Nineteen from
June, 19 17; and in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service for the rest of the war.

IN MEMORIAM
Stafford Leighton Brown

Section Twenty-Six

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Charles E. Bayly, Jr.
II. Gilbert N. Ross

III. Joseph Leveque

IV. Ellis D. Slater

SUMMARY

Section Twenty-Six left Paris on May 28, 191 7, going by
Montmirail to Souhesme. On June 17 it left for Camp Chiffour,
east of Verdun, where it served at the front the pastes of Ferme
Bellevue, near Fort de Tavannes, Douaumont, and Chevrette-
rie. The later cantonment was at Ancemont. It serv^ed hos-
pitals at Souilly, Petit Monthairon, Rambluzin, Benoite Vaux,
Dugny, and Vadelaincourt. The Section worked in this sec-
tor during the entire time before it was taken into the Ameri-
can Army. Its cars were then taken over by the personnel of
Field Service Section Sixty-Nine which later became officially
known to the U.S. Army as Section Six-Thirty-Eight.

Section Twenty-Six

Those who have stood for thy cause when the dark was around thee,
Those who have pierced through the shadows and shining have found thee,
Those who have held to their faith in thy courage and power,
Thy spirit, thy honor, thy strength for a terrible hour,
Now can rejoice that they see thee in light and in glory.

Herbert Jones

To SOUHESME

Under the leadership of Second Lieutenant Pierre Mar-
chal and of Chef A. Musgrave Hyde, Section Twenty-Six
was formed at Versailles on May 26, 191 7. For two days
the men were busy gathering equipment, getting the cars
in shape, and saying good-bye to Paris. Then, on the
evening of the 27th, with a camion section that was ready
to start for Dommiers, they were given a farewell banquet
at rue Raynouard by the Field Service authorities, and
the next morning the Section pulled out of the park in con-
voy, and crept slowly through the streets, out into the
country, bound at last for the front.

We passed over the battle-field of the Marne and, just
at dusk, drew up in the Place de la Mairie at Montmirail.
From that time on we progressed from village to village,

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sometimes stopping overnight, sometimes for several days,
until at last we came to Souhesme, in the Verdun sector,
and parked in a much-abused barnyard at the edge of the
town, where we tarried for several days in the mud, im-
patient to be attached to our division. There was nothing
to do, so we sought amusement in haunting the near-by
aviation field, where the persistence of two or three of the
boys was finally rewarded with rides; or by walking out
over the hill where, far in the distance, the gray waste of
Mort Homme could dimly be seen. Rat hunts filled the
evenings.

During our stay in Souhesme every one had the colic
from the water, and the cook, a silk-worker in time of
peace, finally, to our infinite relief, had to be evacuated
to the hospital. Two of our boys cooked the meals the
next day and our spirits rose. Sardines and cheese are not
the worst things in the world, but they do grow tiresome
after a week or so of almost nothing else; and that is
about all the old cook and the new boys were giving us.
Gradually, however, things began to get better. A new
cook arrived, the rain stopped, and we commenced to dry
out. But best of all, we were now attached to the 19th
Division and received orders to move into line close to
Verdun. So, on the morning of June 17, after being re-
viewed by the Medecin Principal of this Division and
by the Medecin Chef des Brancardiers, we left Souhesme
for Camp Chiffour, the Divisional Headquarters, reliev-
ing an English section which had been there for four
months.

Camp Chiffour — Ferme Bellevue

Our farthest poste was a ruined house called Ferme Belle-
vue, well named, for it stood on the top of a hill close
to Fort de Tavannes and looked out over the valley of the
Meuse and down into the town of Verdun. From it the
two towers of the cathedral resembled twin monitors
guarding the citadel and city, all of whose scars were
hidden by a purple haze which hung over the entire val-

250

SECTION TWENTY-SIX

ley. The ungainly saticisses, swaying and tugging at their
ropes, gave to the scene the only indication that there was
war in our midst. But our own desolate ruin, with its
sandbag-covered abri, and the knowledge that just over
the hill were the Germans, was stimulus enough to the
imagination and we were not long in getting more.

Standing there in the road, with our eyes never leav-
ing the city that had even yet no touch of reality to us,
we were suddenly startled by a crashing of guns behind
us, and we raised our eyes in time to see a tiny wasplike
machine darting out of the clouds in the midst of a
rapidly increasing bunch of white puffs. Before we knew
what was happening, we saw another spot of white below
the saucisse as the observer's parachute opened. The
great bag itself, after a burst of flame, began trailing
downward in a dense cloud of black smoke, while the
tiny assailant darted back into the cloud. In the mean-
time, all around us the French batteries, as if awakened
from sleep, began one by one to roar until our ears rang,
and the first moment of unrest gave place to one of im-
mense security and interest. The Germans were replying
by this time, and we could hear the shells, going in both
directions, whistle over us, while we stood in safety under
the arc, with our mouths open.

Though there were times like the foregoing when we
had interesting experiences, the sector was in general com-
paratively quiet. From the postes the cars were sent,
usually at night, but sometimes in the daytime, too,
down the far side of the hill, the side that looked toward
Metz into the lands of the Germans. Good luck was with
us and never a man was injured. There were accidents to
the cars, of course. One of them, for example, slipped off
the road and turned completely over with all four wheels
in the air. But as a rule neither man nor vehicle suffered
much during this stay at the front.

Our postes were spread along the line to the right of
Verdun, from Bellevue, from which we worked about the
Forts de Tavannes and Douaumont, to Chevretterie,

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on the Verdun-Metz road. The triage was back at the
foot of the hills on the road to Souilly, and the various
hospitals were even farther back, at the Chateau of Petit
Monthairon, Souilly, Rambluzin, Benoite Vaux, Dugny,
and Vadelaincourt. Our cantonment was at Ancemont
in the centre of the hospital district. Never perhaps did a
Section have better quarters — a large house on the edge
of the village, with a smaller farmhouse a few yards up the
road to serve as office, atelier, and living quarters for the
Frenchmen of the Section. There was a large orchard be-
hind for the cars — an orchard of cherry, plum, and apple
trees, which, ripening successively through the summer,
provided fruit almost continuously. It was here that we
held our track meet, which attracted such attention from
the French soldiers that they challenged us and built a
huge field with lanes for the sprints and pits for the jump-
ing. Twice we beat them, but they got their revenge in
beating us at soccer.

Status Quo for the Section

In August during the Verdun attack, the 19th Division
moved, and for some reason the Section was transferred
to the division that came in, the 7th, and became more
or less the property of the sector. For the five months
from the time we came to that district until the Section
was taken over by the United States Army, we kept the
same pastes, travelled the same roads, and did exactly
the same work; and during all this period we were usually
quiet enough at the cantonment, though from time to
time the Boches would shell the town, never, however,
with serious results.

It was not until the attack to the north of Verdun that
we began to be interested in air raids. As reprisals, per-
haps, for the loss that they had sustained, the Boches be-
gan to send nightly bombing parties aimed principally
at the aviation fields of Souilly and at the hospitals at
Dugny, Monthairon, and Vadelaincourt, often dropping
a few ''microbes,'' as the poilus call the bombs, on our

252

CHATTAXCOURT STATION NEAR VKRDUX — THE SECOND-LINE TRENCHES

WHEN JLAJBOK SLACKENS

SECTION TWENTY-SIX

village and firing with their machine guns on the cars in
the road. The most violent bombardment that we had
was on the night of October 2, when, with the help of
a full moon, the enemy flew back and forth over the
main street, throwing bombs into the cantonments of the
troops. On this occasion all of the cars were called out at
once and worked for several hours under fire. In fact the
bombardment was so serious that the village was evac-
uated of all the automobiles and artillery sections, and the
sanitaires alone were left. In this connection the Tenth
Army Corps decorated with the Croix de Guerre the Sec-
tion as a whole, and six of its members. On the afternoon
of October 1 1 the Colonel of the Thirteenth Hussars, who
was stationed in the chateau, held a ceremony and pinned
the cross on these men, on the flag of the Section, and
on some French soldiers who had been cited at the same
time.

Soon after this the boys finishing their engagements
began to leave the Section, and on the 24th, when Section
Sixty-Nine came to relieve us and to take over the cars,
the pastes, the cantonment, and the work which we had
grown to think of as intimately ours, the most of the per-
sonnel of old Twenty-Six scattered, some men going Into
aviation, others Into artillery, and some into Infantry and
other services of the United States Army.

Charles E. Bayly, Jr.^

' Of Denver, Colorado; Princeton, '18; served with Section Twenty-Six
until October, 19 17; subsequently a Sons-Lieutenant in the French Artillery-.

Lending a Hand at Vadelaincourt

August 23, 1917
About three o'clock on the afternoon of the 20th the
Chef came running out with an order to go to a hospital
twenty miles away and do it quickly. When we got there
we found the place literally packed and jammed with
German and French wounded — and most of them in
awful shape; we were kept very busy evacuating them.
In the evening at the big hospital in Vadelaincourt we
ambulance drivers were grouped together talking about
nothing much when suddenly a German airplane, with
his motor cut off, dropped out of the sky, and three
bombs landed about five hundred yards away from us.
Then for over two hours in the darkness of night that
town was raided by a whole flock of planes, which followed
each other in rapid succession dropping bomb after bomb.
The third plane set fire to a hospital, making a ghastly
scene of it all — the men rushing for shelter in all stages
of undress and in all stages of fear, the Boche planes cir-
cling overhead, lit up in the red glow of the fire. On top of
that some one yelled, "Gas!" A nice "bunch" that will
drop poison gas on a hospital ! I 'm beginning to appreciate
the French point of view in regard to the Germans. On my
way out of town I passed the hospital, which was still
burning. I finally got out of that place, delivered my
wounded, including a doctor and a stretcher-bearer, and
returned to the cantonment at 3.30 a.m., feeling that
setting fire to a hospital is the limit in abominations.

Gilbert N. Ross^

* Of Brookline, Massachusetts; Massachusetts Institute of Technology;
joined the Field Service in June, 19 17, and remained in the U.S.A. Am-
bulance Service for the remainder of the war.

Ill

Through French Eyes

These are extracts from the Journal des Marches et
Operations, the official Day Book of the Section, kept by
the French Marechal des Logis, Joseph Leveque. These
extracts derive most of their interest from the fact that
they are from the pen of a French mihtary official.

June 2, I917

The Section begins its career by making a series of visits
around to the other cantonments near Triaucourt and
taking their charges to the hospital at Fleury-sur-Aire.

June 4
Theory and practice in the use and application of gas-
masks. Cantonment at Souhesme very bad and very
dirty. The Americans install themselves in a field. The
Section has very little work to do. Military instruction in

marks of respect.

Jmte 8

Stretcher-bearer instruction for the drivers. Cleanli-
ness. Technical inspection. Lessons in driving. Neatness.

June II

The Section counts seven sick drivers, including the
kitchen personnel. The doctor attributes it to bad water
and change in food.

June 16

Reception by the Medecin Principal, who extends a
hearty welcome to the Section.

June 19
The Section goes out to a front poste for the first time —
to the east of Verdun.

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

June 28
Section moves to Ancemont. Very good cantonment.
Dugouts in case of bombardment. Office and workshop
isolated. American quarters comfortable.

July I
As a result of a competition the Section adopts as its
insignia the American Bison, a copy of the "Buffalo
Nickel." .

July 4
In the afternoon, athletic events by the members.

July II
Inspection of entire Section by Major Church, delegated
for this work by General Pershing, accompanied by A.
Piatt Andrew the head of the Field Service. Both officers
expressed their complete satisfaction at the general good
appearance of the Section and in particular at the per-
fect upkeep of the vehicles. Major Church was particu-
larly interested in the ambulances, their height, length,
carriage, etc.

September 24
Three American recruiting officers arrive at Ancemont
to ask the drivers if they wish to enlist for the duration of
the war in the Medical Service as ambulance drivers,
with the rank of private. For different reasons, of which
the principal one is the desire to join a more active serv-
ice — things have been too quiet here — none of the
American volunteers is willing to sign, at least immedi-
ately. Consequently, the officers announce that the vol-
unteers will be replaced by other drivers regularly en-
listed and trained in America for this purpose.

October 3
Last night German aviators bombarded at two different
times the cantonment, causing considerable damage and
several deaths. All the American drivers not already on
service immediately went to the places bombarded and
effectively cooperated in the saving and transporting of

256

SECTION TWENTY-SIX

the wounded. The fine attitude of the x'\merlcan volun-
teers as regards courage and devotion to service was re-
markably well shown during this raid. The Colonel com-
manding the 13th Hussars, the commanding officer in
this town, and the Medecin ChefaW praise the fine attitude
of the American volunteers. All the facts have been to-
day officially reported to the commanding officer.

October 4

Because of continual bombardment of Ancemont all the
hippomobile and automobile services have received, with
one exception, orders to leave this village and canton in
the woods. Section Twenty-Six alone remains in its origi-
nal cantonment.

October 8

In accordance with the report of the Lieutenant com-
manding the Section and the report of the Colonel of
the 13th Hussars commanding at Ancemont, the General
commanding the Tenth Army Corps cites to the order of
the Army Corps, S.S.U. 26. Here is the text of the cita-
tion: "On the night of October 2-t„ 191 7, during an
aerial bombardment, the personnel of S.S.U. 26, com-
manded by Second Lieutenant Marchal, hurried to the
places which were bombarded, in order to pick up the
wounded. The drivers — some of whom did not even take
time to dress — showed the utmost devotion in aiding in
the search and the picking-up of the wounded, whom they
transported to the hospitals, driving their ambulances
with the greatest courage under machine-gun fire and
bombing by the aviators."

October 1 1
This afternoon the Colonel of the 13th Hussars officially
pinned the Croix de Guerre, in the name of the President
of the Republic, on the Section standard and on several
American drivers. After the ceremony the Colonel and
other officers came to the Section's cantonment to con-
gratulate the American drivers of the Section.

257

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

October 20
Twenty-two drivers, formerly of Section Sixty-Nine,
under tlie command of the American Lieutenant, Allen
Butler, with two sergeants and one corporal, arrive at the
Section to complete the number of drivers of whom there
were only six remaining of old Section Twenty-Six. The
U.S. Army drivers, former volunteers in the American
Field Service, were good Fiat drivers — only a few knew
how to drive Fords before they arrived — and they know
the work of this branch of the service ; so the taking over of
the pastes is easily effected. The old drivers of Twenty-Six
who are now in the American army remain at the paste
to show the new members the roads. The Ford ambulances
left by the old members are passed over to the new in very
good running condition — only one ambulance being in
the workshop for repairs at the time of the arrival of the
new men.

November 23

Inspection by General Bulot, commanding the 7th Divi-
sion of Infantry. He compliments the Lieutenant on the
good standing and appearance of the Section and its per-
sonnel, and addressing himself particularly to the Ameri-
cans the General said how happy he was in having at-
tached to this Division such a young body of Allies so full
of energy and good- will, thus assuring the best service
possible.

January i, 191 8
S.S.U. 26 will hereafter be known as S.S.U 638 (Ameri-
can Series). The Section will still bear the honor of the
Craix de Guerre received October 8, 19 17.

Joseph Leveque

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

Section Sixty-Nine was enlisted in the U.S. Army on October
3, 1917, while the Section was stationed at Verdun and doing
poste work at Bras, Vacherauville, and points farther to the
front. They stayed at Verdun until October 18 when they went
to Chardogne, a small town not far from Bar-le-Duc. It was in
this town that they lost those members of the Section who had
seen fit to join other branches of the service or those who sought
the old Etats-Unis.

October 23 saw old Section Sixty-Nine fused with Section
Twenty-Six and the old Fords of Twenty-Six replaced the
Fiats of Sixty-Nine. We took over the Woevre sector and were
quartered at Ancemont-sur-Meuse. We stayed in this quiet
sector until November 7, when we pulled stakes and finally
landed in the Champagne at Jalpns about seventeen kilometres
out of Chalons on the road to Epernay.

On November 28 we went into line at Villers-Marmery in
front of Mont Cornillet, where we spent a quiet winter to the
right of Reims. The only action we had here was from the 15th
to the 2 1 St of March, when small attacks along the line rather
excited the entire front.

On April 30 we left Villers for La Cheppe, between Suippes
and Chalons, where we were en repos. We left this town on May
7 with our Division which was ordered to Belgium at the mo-
ment of the British retreat. We ran in convoy to Belgium by
way of Meaux and Abbeville and stopped at Ochtezeele. We
stayed at Ochtezeele until the 22d of May when we went into
line near Poperinghe in front of Mont Kemmel.

During June we had our postes at Reninghelst and La Clytte.
After about a month and a half in Belgium we left for Esquel-
becq, southeast of Dunkirk, where we stayed until July 5 when
we left with our Division for the Champagne by way of Paris
and Sezanne. After a day in Tours-sur-Marne we were called
into the mountains of Reims, where we waited in the woods
under cover until July 15 during the preparation for the second
battle of the Marne.

On Julv 15 we went into line at Hautvillers, six kilometres
north of Epernay, but this town seemed to be too close and we
were moved back three kilometres to Dizy-Magenta on the

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

i6th. It is from here that we saw part of the second battle of
the Marne with our pastes at Damery and Arty, After the
French advance of July i8 we had pastes at Chatillon-sur-
Marne and Villers-sous-Chatillon.

On August I we left for Igny-le-Jard, fifteen kilometres south
of Chatillon, where we stayed en repos until August 17. Our
next work was as a reserve at Saint-Hilaire-au-Temple, near
Chalons. After our repos here, lasting until August 26, we
moved to Camp Dillmann, on the Chalons-Reims road, work-
ing pastes at the foot of Mont Cornillet with some pastes the
same as during the winter of 191 7-1 8.

On October 6 we left Camp Dillmann for Mourmelon-le-
Grand, whence we went to Souain and to Sainte-Marie-a-Py,
where we lived in the woods between this town and Saint-
Etienne-a-Arnes until October 11, during the battle of the
Arnes and subsequently the German retreat to the Aisne.

October 16 found us in Pauvres, twenty kilometres west of
Vouziers, which town we left on October 21 for La Neuville,
thence to Saint-Martin I'Heureux, and from there to Louvercy,
where we stayed until October 23. We next stopped at Camp
au Tombeaux des Sarazins, near Bouy, where we stayed until
November 6 en repas. Our next move was shortly before the
Armistice, when we went to Somme-Py and then to Semide
and later to Vouziers, where we spent "le jour de V Armistice.'^

On November 1 1 we moved to Sauville and thence to Che-
venges, where we stayed the remainder of the month of Novem-
ber until December 16. From December until the nth of
March we spent the time in Torcy-Sedan doing evacuation
work for hospitals and supplying civilians with food. On March
II we were relieved and started on the final journey to Paris en
route for the United States.

Ellis D, Slater ^

' Of Chicago, Illinois; University of Michigan, '17; with Section Sixty-
Nine of the Field Service from July, 1917; later in the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service.

Section Twenty-Seven

THE STORY TOLD BY

I 6f II. Howard Radcliffe Coan
III. Coleman G. Clark

SUMMARY

Section Twenty-Seven left Paris for the front on June 9, 1917,
going via Chalons-sur-Marne to Billy-le-Grand in the Cham-
pagne district. Its pastes were at La Plaine, Esplanade, and
Prosnes, and it evacuated from Villers-Marmery and from
Mont-de-Billy. At the end of the month the Section went
to Breuvery, south of Chalons en repos. Its next move was
to Fontaine-sur-Coole, thence to Mourmelon-le-Grand, with
pastes at Ferme de Constantine, Ferme de Moscou, and Lud-
wigshafen. The Section then went back en repos at La Chaus-
see-sur-Marne and ended its existence shortly after resuming
active service in the region of Suippes, where the Section was
combined with old Section Seventy-Two, to be known there-
after as Section Six-Thirty-Nine of the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service.

c»H<«iu4

Section Twenty-Seven

Armies of France, advance!

Forward the line of blue!

From the Alps away to the Channel sea

Into the battle to make men free,

Forward, again, to Victory!

Hail, Armies of France!

William C. Sanger, Jr.

To THE Champagne

From different colleges and states, and not as a unit,
came the twenty-three men who were to form Section
Twenty-Seven. Most of them sailed together from New
York, on May 5, 1917, on the Espagne, and, June 9, left
Paris for the front in a long convoy. Proceeding through
Chalons-sur-Marne, we arrived without incident at the
little village of Billy-le-Grand, where the Section con-
sidered itself fortunate, not because we were in this

263

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

muddy and dusty village in which the cars were parked,
but that being there meant work after the idleness and
delay in Paris. The morning after arriving, ten cars went
into active service, taking over from a French vsection
the postes at La Plaine, Esplanade, and Prosnes, and en-
tering upon hospital evacuation work, first from Villers-
Marmery, and then from Mont-de-Billy.

The sector was all that could be desired as far as ac-
tivity was concerned, for the I32d Division, to which
Twent3^-Seven was attached, was engaged in driving the
enemy from the crest of Mont Cornillet, the only one of
the famous Champagne hills on which he still retained
a foothold after the April-May offensive.

The Section plunged right into the work, and before a
week was over the number of cars on duty rose to eight-
een. Thus, in our first period of active service, we were
able to see and go through all that any section could
reasonably desire ; in a word experiencing everything —
arrivees and departs, night driving without lights over
unknown roads, without maps and only verbal directions
as to how to find the postes, and steady rolling, night and
day, over shelled highways with but an occasional respite,
owing to the volume of the work.

From the first, Esplanade, situated in woods filled
with French artillery, was the worst poste. In the process
of searching out and trying to strafe the surrounding
batteries, the ambulances suffered, and Lars Potter's car
was wrecked. Happily, however, the shells came in just
before the car was loaded and no one was hurt. This good
luck clung to the Section throughout its six months'
existence, saving the drivers often by a matter of minutes
or yards.

At this time the poiliis, while undoubtedly weary of
the war — as indeed who could help being after three
years in the trenches? — nevertheless showed no sign
of yielding. With America in the struggle, they felt con-
fident of the final outcome; so the arrival of our troops
was the subject of constant questioning.

264

SECTION TWENTY-SEVEN

The Courage of the Wounded

The courage of the wounded also early attracted our
attention and won our admiration ; for they scarcely ever
permitted even a murmur to escape their lips, despite
unavoidable jolting over rough roads or through shell-
holes ; and their sincere appreciation of what we American
volunteers were doing more than compensated us for
any hardships and dangers connected with the work.

The German wounded carried after the successful
French attack of June 21 showed a surprising ignorance
of what was happening in the outside world and did not
even know that the United States had declared war.

On the days off duty the Aisne-Marne canal formed a
welcome retreat. Indeed, had it not been for its cool
seclusion and quiet where the danger, dust, and strain
of the front seemed so far away as almost to be forgotten,
those first two weeks when heavy rolling and little sleep
were added to the newness of it all, would have been far
harder to bear.

Repos at Breuvery

Toward the end of June, again In a long, dusty convoy,
but feeling quite a different section from the one which
had arrived from Paris such a short time before, Number
Twenty-Seven went back en repos to Breuvery, a village
south of Chalons, where we enjoyed a delightful can-
tonment with grass, trees, a fair-sized stream, and an ad-
joining field for baseball. This pleasure was destined to
be short-lived, however, for scarlet fever broke out and
we left the village for Fontaine-sur-Coole, where two
tents were set up, one serving as dining-room and the
other as sleeping-quarters, although many of us still
preferred to sleep on stretchers in our cars.

Except for the evacuation of the sick from near-by
villages to Chalons, the men could now spend their time
practically as they pleased. Bathing in an ice-cold
spring, though rather a shock to the system, was fairly

265

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

popular and rather interested the village children, who
were always attracted to ''les americains." It was the
height of the cherry season, and roads lined with heavily
laden trees whose owners had not the time to pick the
fruit, also gave us much delight. In the evenings baseball
furnished the chief diversion, and drew quite a number of
spectators, for the game was new to the French. W'hat
might otherv/ise have been monotony in such a life was
relieved by a special forty-eight-hour permissioii to
Paris, granted through the courtesy of the French Army
in honor of the Fourth of July. All but a few, who had to
remain for sick evacuation, were thus permitted to see
the magnificent welcome accorded at the Capital to the
first contingent of the American Expeditionary Force
and on returning were able to answer at least one of the
questions so constantly asked by French officers, sol-
diers, and civilians — "When are the American troops
coming?" Those of us who had been unable to enjoy
the Fourth in Paris had their leave ten days later on
the French national holiday, when the occasion was
marked by a special dinner at camp, and by shows and
concerts.

Back to the Chalk Hills and Pines —
mourmelon

Finally our sojourn at Fontaine-sur-Coole came to an
end, when to the general disappointment the Section
went neither to Verdun, the Vosges, nor Alsace, as rumor
said would be the case, but back to the country of chalk
hills and pines, of choking dust or clinging mud — the
Champagne. However, a pleasant feature of the situation
was that after a few days in a slaughter-house, Twenty-
Seven moved into fine brick barracks in Mourmelon-le-
Grand, where the cars continued to run to Prosnes and
through it to all the forward pastes — Ferme de Constan-
tine, Ferme de Moscou, and Ludwigshafen. The road to
the last-mentioned was in such full view of the German
sazicisses, constantly up on the other side of the Cham-

266

POSTE M-4, DHE.s,si>(j-bTATlU> AM) ■( ANKS" HEFORE MOURMELON

CHAMPAGNE

GENERAL VIEW OF THE FERME L)E MOSCOU " PUSTE L)E SECOURS '

SECTION TWENTY-SEVEN

pagne hills, that its use by vehicles was permitted only at
night.

The first day of our sojourn at Mourmelon-le-Grand,
the Germans went out of their way to give Section
Twenty-Seven a warm welcome. In relieving the ambu-
lance at Constantine, two Fords were out in full view,
waiting until one of them could go into the trench dug
by the English drivers to conceal and protect their cars,
and the other proceed to Moscou. In those few minutes,
the Germans sent in four shells, all of which came within
fifteen yards of the cars and their drivers, enveloping them
in smoke and showering earth on them. But by a miracle
no one was wounded. There was nothing else at which
to fire within a half-mile radius, and as the red crosses on
a white background precluded any possibility of a mis-
take as to the character of the cars, the act was but
another example of German contempt for international
agreements in time of war. The car that went to Ludwigs-
hafen that night had also a rather bad time, for it was
caught in the relief going up and the road began to be
shelled.

During nearly two months in this sector, Sapini^re
was the poste central where cars waited their turn to go
forward ; but unlike La Plaine, it was but once molested
by arrivees. It was an excellent place from which to watch
both German and French aeroplanes, when one could see
the sky dotted all over with white and black puffs from
anti-aircraft guns, and occasionally witness an air duel
or the attacking of an observation balloon. And an old
artillery observation post, built in some trees, commanded
a view of the whole of the hill region, on which the Ger-
mans often laid barrages, terrible yet fascinating to be-
hold. At night star-shells, signal rockets, and flashes from
guns illuminated the scene in a way that one who has
seen it can never forget.

On the whole the new sector was far quieter than the
former one, but it had its bad times, too. Between nine
and four one night nearly a hundred wounded had to be

267

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

evacuated over a piste from Ludwigshafen, because the
explosion of an ammunition train at Prosnes, always a
shelled corner, had completely blocked the regular road.
On another occasion shells wrought havoc in a battalion
just descending from the trenches when, of the three
men who went out over the badly torn-up piste to bring
in those who were not beyond help, two were mentioned
and later received the Croix de Guerre for their work.
Five drivers in all were so honored, before the Section,
with half of its cars now bearing marks of the front,
once more went back en repos with the Division, this
time to La Chaussee-sur-Marne.

The incessant rain and cold which marked October
made the old doorless, windowless mill, in which Twenty-
Seven was billeted at La Chaussee-sur-Marne, anything
but pleasant, so word that the Division was going back
into line came as a relief.

The taking over of the ambulance sections with the
French by the U. S. Army had now begun, and an offi-
cer came to La Chaussee to secure a list of those who
would sign on for the new regime. A grand farewell party
was held the evening before going back to active work
for the last ten days — to the Auberive-Souain front,
which was quiet; with its six forward pastes, calling for
ten cars at Bussy-le-Chateau in case of a gas attack,
and its evacuation work from Suippes and Cuperly. The
whole Section was thus nominally on duty.

Those of us who reenlisted were transferred to Sec-
tion Eight, and the enlisted personnel of old Field Serv-
ice Section Seventy-Two was sent out to take over
Twenty-Seven's cars, but as this did not occur until No-
vember 4, we had the distinction of being the last of the
old American Field Service Sections to give up volunteer
work.

Howard Radcliffe Coan^

* Of New York City; Williams, '20; sen-ed with Section Twenty-Seven
in the Field Service; later a driver for the Y.M.C.A.

In the Region des Monts

Region des Monts, Champagne
Friday, June 15

Tuesday afternoon, while I was trying to write in the
terrible heat, Lars came along with three sailors and asked
whether I wanted to go for a walk to see their guns. I
accepted readily and a half-hour's walk brought us to the
Aisne-Marne Canal where are some inland gunboats. They
showed us all over them and then we went in swimming.
You can't imagine how delicious that swim was. While
we were still in, the sailors told us their Commandant
was there. Accordingly we met him in our borrowed
trunks, and he immediately invited us to tea aboard the
"L." He is married to an American and speaks English
well. We had a most pleasant tea with M. Caumartin,
and on leaving he presented us with some shell fuses and
"New York Tribunes," both equally welcome and deadly.
He also insisted that we come and see him again, and
we shall be nothing loath. Down there the war seemed so
far away, a peaceful canal with the guns seldom audible.
It is certainly most weird in a thunder storm to hear the
cannon and thunder echoing each other alternately.

At the poste central. La Plaine
Sunday, June 17

I HAVE kept this letter so as to be able to tell you a little
of actual work at the front — the previous part of the
letter was too dull to send. Provided my state of mind
will permit my writing intelligibly, the interest should
not be lacking now. We arrived about eight-thirty with
both the French batteries, with which all three pastes
are literally surrounded, and the Germans going full tilt.
I never before in my life knew what real fear was. Unless
one has been there, one cannot in any way appreciate

269

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

the sensation. The only way that one can distinguish the
arrivees and departs is that the former whistle, then ex-
plode; the latter give the explosion of the gun, and then
whistle. Both are the same in meaning terrible destruc-
tion, but only the former for us. Although the latter
are harmless for us, I could n't keep from instinctively
flinching every time a battery went off. They were worse
than any Fourth of July celebration I have ever heard,
and the strain of listening to every whine and explosion
was something awful. Incidentally we learned what kind
of business they meant. Wheeler took us to one of the
pastes to learn the road. While cranking to come back
we had to drop flat twice while the eclats rattled down
through the trees around us, and on the road w^e slowed up
while they pattered down in front of us. Even back here,
a three-inch piece missed the cook by just a yard. I can
certainly sympathize with the ostrich, for somehow it
gave"a feeling of safety to be under the covering of the car,
with only the top over me. And yet this was as dangerous
a place as any because there was no chance to watch for
and dodge pieces coming down. One comfort, however,
was that I could hear most of them from an ahri, for I
have n't had a call all day — and it is now almost four.

Later
I HAD to go over to one of the batteries to get a man hit
in the shoulder. He is another I shall never forget, for
his wound was from one of these wicked things that have
been whistling all day, and that made it come near.
Those I have taken from hospital to hospital have n't
been so fresh from the effects of the wounds, and their
bandages a little older, and more a matter of course. I am
now a little more used to the French guns, and the whis-
tling of the arrivees is n't so bad unless they get too near.
I am expecting a call almost any time now. The men out
here are a wonderful lot, the doctors, hrancardiers, and
cooks. They are not hardened by it at all, after three
years ; every victim that comes causes the same amount of

270

SECTION TWENTY-SEVEN

interest and sympathy. But oh! they are all so tired and
sick of it all — three long dreary years, and all the fight-
ing on French soil. It is n't the thought so much of them-
selves that is uppermost but la pauvre France.

For a Few Hundred Metres of Trench

Tuesday, June 19
By noon we had eight instead of the usually five cars work-
ing, and we were busy too — the price of the four hundred
metres of trenches. The extent of human endurance never
ceases to amaze me. The wounded never have any anaes-
thetic or hypodermic unless they require an operation to
extract a piece of metal, or to amputate or enlarge the
wound to prevent infection ; and they have to undergo at
least two or three dressings before they reach a perma-
nent hospital. A man with half the face shot away,
with a leg, arms, and hand wounded, often rides as an
assis. One chipper little fellow beside me had a rifle ball
through his neck; I have had to carry for half an hour
over these rough roads a coiiche, with an unset compound
fracture of the leg, with stomach, arm, and leg wounds,
most of them bleeding into the car, and never did a mur-
mur or groan escape his lips. Such fortitude is unbeliev-
able unless one sees it himself. But the most pitiful men
I carried, of the forty rescued in a day and a half, from
midnight Sunday until ten Tuesday morning, were those
who had been buried by shells. Those I carried acted
queerly, but I did not know what was wrong until they
started to walk into the hospital. They reeled like drunken
men and did not take interest in anything. You could
snap your fingers in their faces and there was no reaction.
They may regain their minds in the course of two months,
perhaps never.

We had a good many Germans, and it is another reve-
lation of the superb qualities of the French at the front to
see how the Fritzes are treated. Until wounded or cap-
tured they are Boches ; afterwards, they are merely pris-
oners. I tried to brush up my German on the assis I car-

271

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

ried, but after five weeks of French it was hard to go back.
All are so young — many boys of seventeen, eighteen, and
nineteen — and so sick of it all and glad to be out of it.
Yet their discipline of fear controls them as a lion-trainer
controls the beast. The latter does not dare use his supe-
rior strength except occasionally to resent what he hates
to do. One, however, in whose questioning I acted as
interpreter, said that in his regiment the soldiers were so
angry at their officers for loafing in the rear that they had
thrown grenades into their abris. It may not be true, and
yet it is an indication.

Some of the poor fellows had been in the trenches two,
others five hours when wounded. And hungry — they had
had no food for two days, no drink for five days, and they
had no trenches, just shell-holes. That fact nearly cost
us a whole company of men — for the French advanced
nearly four hundred metres too far, expecting to find
trenches, before they realized they had already passed
the German lines.

Looking back on the Experience

In the course of one of my trips I investigated the road
I had gone over the night before. Aside from the fact
that it is terribly shelled several times every day, I
don't see how I ever got through it without smashing
my car. Honestly, the shell-holes I straddled, the coils
of barbed wire I must have wound my way through,
the bridge I crossed — I shudder yet to think of it all.
For, of course, we drive alone, and there is no communi-
cation by telephone between postes. Suppose I had been
hit — I could have rotted there before I should have been
found, as no one traversed that road. The fact that I
took an hour and a half instead of ten minutes to come
out caused no one any anxiety. With two men to a car,
aside from the tremendous comfort of company, there
would be much less danger of being stranded somewhere.
We are alone and only one who has done it, in the middle
of the night, in the rain, on unknown, shell-filled roads,

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can appreciate the terrible loneliness of it all. Wheeler
says he has never seen pastes situated as these — sur-
rounded by batteries and also without telephonic connec-
tions for the tracing up of cars.

Between midnight Sunday and lo a.m. Tuesday, to-
day — not quite a day and a half— I carried 39 wounded
in my car. About 175 passed through the paste in that
same time, and after about noon Monday we had extra
cars out here and also at the hospital.

"One of our Machines did not return"

August 10, 1917
Friday I was out driving again. It was a wonderfully clear
day, perfect for aeroplanes and photography. It was so
clear, and so many German saucisses were up, that I
waited outside of the ruined village, not daring to go to
No. I until the car there came out. I was not going to
give them another chance at more than one car there, not
after that first Sunday. Except for the hum of motors
and the occasional pop-pop of the mitrailleuses, nothing
happened until ten-thirty, then I was an unwilling wit-
ness of one of the most terrible things I have yet seen.
Mitrailleuses were particularly persistent, and George
and I went out, just in time to see the end of a fight. A
big Farman started falling, falling from a tremendous
height, almost above us. First it started gliding fairly
slowly, and not until its first drop did we see the ill-be-
tiding smoke and a little flame. Either by skill or acci-
dent, it came into a spiral and fell quite a distance, but
the flames were gaining. The mitrailleuse was going, and
a second time it got into a perfect spiral. That fooled us
and we waited with bated breath, cheering or groaning
as the battle to land seemed a winning or losing one. A
third straight drop and the ground did not seem so far
away. Again it glided, but just as we lost sight of it be-
hind the tree-tops, it turned clear over. Then a tremen-
dous volume of smoke poured up. Did they make it or
not? That was what we were asking. Then I remembered

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that when the machine was still very high up, I had seen
objects pitching out. I had no glass to see what they were.
When it was down, one realized that it could only have
been one thing, men, and there had been three. And we
had seen them die, powerless to do anything. We could
not understand why the men should have jumped, unless
because of the heat, yet the machine had appeared to be
under control until then. Later I found out.

Waiting Graves — The Crosses

Just outside the village we pass on the way to the hospi-
tal, I overtook our photographing friend, M. Bardielini,
and took him in. He was out hunting for the place of the
aeroplane's fall, as it is only the third that has fallen
anywhere near here since the war began. I asked if I
could go along, and having pretty good information as to
its whereabouts, we struck off from the postes centrals. We
passed the cemetery — I say the because it is the largest
in the neighborhood — smaller, isolated ones are never out
of sight. Even worse than the regular rows of crosses, with
the monotonous " ilf or/ pour la France,'' were the wait-
ing open graves.

Neither of us was feeling very bright or happy, as we
crossed open stretches and skirted woods down whose
regular avenues we could see the chalk of the much-con-
tested range. Shells were coming in to the left regularly,
but far away. After a hot walk of over a mile, through
stretches peppered with shell-holes and strewn with
pieces of shell, we came upon the wreck of the plane, still
smoking. It was upside down, the left wing almost intact,
the right and most of the rest of it twisted and broken.
Despite the two guards, we got some pictures that ought
to be good, and started back. We fell in with some artil-
lerymen who showed us where the three unfortunates had
fallen. They were fully five hundred yards from their
machine, and we realized that the heat had killed them
or had forced them to kill themselves by jumping. I found
the machine-gun cylinder with every cartridge exploded.

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That was what we had taken for the mitrailleuse being
fired. A few pieces of burned coat and a pair of shoes
showed where the mitrailleiir had been. A captain and
two lieutenants had suffered that terrible fate. The un-
happy Farman's compass, a few rods from the spot, is a
good remembrance of the catastrophe. We were feeling
more depressed than ever, but in the evening when we saw
a German saucisse burning, the fourth during the day, we
realized that the French had secured pretty good revenge,
especially as they also bagged a German plane that fell
one hundred yards this side of the French first line.

Howard Radcliffe Coan^

' These are selections from home letters.

Ill

Summary of the Section's History as a Unit
OF THE United States Army

Section Twenty-Seven, reorganized as Section Six-Thirty-
Nine, served in Champagne, in the Suippes sector, with the
I32d French Division from November, 1917, to March, 1918.
In March it moved up, after the drive on Amiens, to the
Somme-Oise front, being stationed at Gournay-sur-Arronde.
It remained here until May, when it moved into the Mont-
didier sector, near Montigny and Ravenel. On July 18 it went
to Bresles en repos. From the latter part of July until August
18 it worked in the Marne-Chateau-Thierry sectors — Orbais,
Chavenay, and Dormans. It was serving here with the i8th
Division.

Leaving this front on August 18, it went to the Verdun sec-
tor, at Beveaux. On September 18 it moved again, this time
to Camp Frety, on reserve with the American army. From
the latter part of September until just before the Armistice
it took part in the Meuse-Argonne offensive, working near
Sechaut and Monthois. It was in Nancy when the Armistice
was declared. Then followed the trip with the Army of Occu-
pation, through Alsace, Lorraine, and into Baden into the neu-
tral zone. The towns visited were Saverne, Morzheim, Ludwig-
shafen-am-Rhein, and Mannheim. Then followed the trip to
Base Camp. The Section received a sectional citation during
the Second Battle of the Marne, in the orders of the i8th French
Division.

Coleman G. Clark ^

' Of Chicago, Illinois; University of Chicago, '18; served with Section
Seventy-Two of the Field Service and subsequently in the U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service.

Section Twenty -Eight

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Frederic R. Colie
II. John Browning Hurlbut

III. Stanley Hill

IV. Converse Hill

SUMMARY

Section Twenty-Eight left Paris June 17, 1917, arriving
at Mourmelon-le-Grand, in Champagne, in the sector of the
Monts, June 19. It served with its division in line there until
relieved in the fall. The pastes along the Voie Romaine and out
towards Mont Sans Nom and Mont Haut, were Ham, Bois
Sacre, M Quatre, and Village Gascon. In mid-September the
Section moved to Damery, where it was enlisted in the U.S.A.
Ambulance Service as Section Six-Forty.

Section Twenty-Eight

He died in the winter dark, alone,

In a stinking ambulance,
With God knows what upon his lips —

But on his heart was France!

Emery Pottle

Departing in a Cloud of Dust

June i8, 1917
Final preparations were made day before yesterday,
and yesterday we were up early in order to take a final
look at our cars before they were lined up for inspec-
tion by Mr. Andrew and some of General Pershing's staff.
There are sixteen Dartmouth men in the Section, who are
all absolutely inexperienced as far as work at the front
is concerned; but our Chef, W. H. Wallace, Jr., has been
at the front with Section Four and understands the game
from A to Z.

All day long we rode through clouds of dust, past
isolated farms, between green fields of neatly laid-out
vineyards and waving wheat, and in and out of quaint
little villages whose inhabitants stared and waved
cheerily as the convoy swept by. Here and there, in the
midst of a meadow crimson-spotted by poppies, we no-
ticed small wooden crosses, which marked the graves of
those brave men who died in the fierce battle of the
Marne. At dusk, we drew up in a small village where we
were to spend the night and were drummed to sleep by
the distant mutter of the guns.

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Mourmelon-le-Grand

June 20
Last evening we pulled up before one of the long series
of brick barracks at Mourmelon-le-Grand which is to
be our cantonment. It lies about seven miles behind a
row of six hills that dominate the surrounding country,
which, we learn, has been the scene of sanguinary fighting
since the day when the forces of Attila were defeated on
the plains of Chalons. In itself the village has no par-
ticular attractions other than an excellent buvette and
a chocolate shop. In times of peace this was one of the
largest training-camps for the French Army, and in the
main the town is composed of row upon row of long
brick barracks laid out with streets between, with ad-
joining it a large plain cut by a system of trenches and
dugouts. Fortunately for us, there remains plenty of
room for a baseball diamond where Strubing and Has-
brook pursue elusive "flies" to the infinite delight of an
admiring horde of poilus.

Village Gascon — M Quatre — Bois Sacre

June 22
From the foot of the hills to Mourmelon a level plateau
extends bare and unsmiling except for clumps of dwarf
pine, the only form of plant life that can get sufficient
nourishment from the chalky soil. A shell breaking on
this ground leaves a round, vicious-looking white scar;
and the ensemble of many shells produces a bizarre
Swiss-cheese effect.

Out past demolished Baconnes is a poste de secours,
M 4, situated just at a crossroad, which has received,
now and again, and twice between times, noisy remem-
brances in the form of "155's," which besides making
the poste unhealthy, keep us tied close to the door of our
dugout. Here we have four cars. Once having run through
the woods, a veritable nest of guns, we come upon a
little clearing among the pines, on which opens a trench

280

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which is our poste, Bois Sacre. Out ahead is an open field,
cut by what remains of a national highway and pock-
marked by shell-holes of every known calibre. Still far-
ther ahead, in what remains of the Hun fortifications,
are three regimental pastes fed by a car stationed at
Village Gascon. Village Gascon, by the way, is not a
village at all, but a jumbled collection of small ram-
shackle wooden barracks, interspersed with dugouts
and battery emplacements. All this is hidden in a small
grove of scrub pines with little paths running here and
there, and now and then an abandoned trench. The only
thing in common this place has with a village is a little
rude chapel near one end of the grove, built entirely of
rough boards and pine branches, and marked by a large
wooden cross before the gate. The cross is distinctive in
that it is the one used by the Greek Church and not the
simple cross of a single bar with which we are familiar.
This sector was recently occupied by some Russian troops
detailed for service on the French front; hence the in-
signia of the Greek Church. In fact, there are many
Russians buried in the little cemetery in front of the
chapel and their graves are easily distinguished from
those of their French allies by the queer crosses which
mark them.

Paul Osborn killed

Toward the latter part of this afternoon, the Germans
dropped a heavy barrage upon the line of hills mentioned
above, and the scarred slopes of Cornillet shone bare and
forbidding in the sinking sun. Before dusk they were
hidden under a dense cloud of smoke and dust that rolled
down the sides, wave upon wave, choked up the valley,
and spread over the woods in a veil. To the right, Monts
Blanc and Sans Nom were smoking like volcanoes, and
everywhere, for miles behind the lines, jets of earth and
smoke spurted up, spread and added to the general haze,
while the roads and battery positions were shelled. By
nine o'clock the infantry attacked, and then the Messes

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came pouring into the pastes. It was pitch dark in the
woods. The roads were new and strange. The shell-
ing was intense. Peltier, surrounded by batteries and
swamped under a rain of shells, was the centre of activity.
One car, driven by Allison, with Milne as orderly, ended
up in a shell-hole and four men went to their rescue.
After getting the car out, they started back, and just as
they got abreast of their cars, two shells dropped but a
few metres away, when Paul Osborn ^ was wounded in the
back and right leg and his car perforated again and again
by the eclats. The motor still ran, so with Noyes driving,
Wells pouring water into the damaged radiator and Hurl-
but running ahead to warn them against holes, they took
him into Village Gascon where his wounds were dressed
before he was taken back to Farman. Milne, too, was
slightly scratched in the shoulder by a shrapnel ball.
Toward morning things quieted down and we learned
that the Boche attack had failed completely.

June 27
Paul Osborn died last night despite every attempt to
save his life. The wound in his back sapped his strength
so that he was unable to withstand the strain of having
his leg amputated. The funeral service was held in the
chapel of the hospital, and then the body was borne by
six French soldiers to the little cemetery on the slope of
the hill. The flags of France and America were draped
upon the casket and the Croix de Guerre pinned upon the
folds by General Baratier, of Fachoda fame, who delivered
a touching address at the grave-side.

The Fourth of July

July 4
All day mysterious preparations have been going on in
the mess hall and there is an undue amount of whisper-

1 Paul Gannett Osborn, of Montclair, New Jersey; Dartmouth, '17; served
■with Section Twenty-Eight in the Field Service in 1917; died of wounds
June 27, 1917.

282

SECTION TWENTY-EIGHT

ing among our French personnel. At six o'clock we were
informed that dinner was ready and when we walked into
the room we had the explanation of this mystery and
whispering. The walls and rafters were swathed in greens
of every description, while at one end a large American
flag was draped, and from the smoky beams the banners
of the Allied nations waved. Of the dinner itself, one can-
not say enough in praise. During the interim between the
last course and the wines, we were given a concert by
the 63d Regiment Band, which played first the "Star-
Spangled Banner" and then the '' Marseillaise ^

ASHTON AND ISBELL WOUNDED

July 15

German planes came over day before yesterday in the
afternoon and dropped circulars informing us that the
following night we, with several other neighboring vil-
lages, were to be the recipients of some Kultur in the
form of bombs. In fact, last evening they attacked Mont
Sans Nom, but were repulsed, though they shelled the
batteries and roads heavily. Rain set in, however, and
called a halt to the aerial part of their programme; but
it also made it hard evacuating the blesses. The roads
were jammed with munition trains going up and ravi-
taillement trains coming back. In the woods behind Gas-
con the situation was especially difficult. On one trip
Ashton, acting as Strubing's orderly, had to sit out on
the fender and shout directions to the driver. Several
shells fell close to them, and one wounded Ashton se-
verely in the shoulder and foot, an eclat breaking the
collar bone and just missing the spine as it came out of
his back. He was evacuated to Farman and a part of the
foot amputated.

July 28
Out at Gascon the rats are terrible. Yesterday at mid-
night they held a field day on the corrugated iron roof of
our dugout. The strange part of the whole performance

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is that these rats do not run, but gallop. At 2 a.m. each
and every morning they hold a steeplechase, and between
their squealing and our cursing this is a poor place for
a rest cure.

Late this evening Isbell and Adams took a call to a
battery near here that was being shelled rather heavily.
One obus exploded very near and Isbell was given a deep
flesh wound in the foot.

August 25
Chief Wallace has been cited to the order of the Division
for the Croix de Guerre, and this morning we all lined
up and, looking as military as possible, spent a nervous
quarter of an hour while General Baratier complimented
Wallace upon "the splendid work that he and his men
had done in the past few months." We are soon to lose
him, as he has accepted a commission in the Aviation
Section of the Signal Corps.

September 9
Archie Gile came out to the Section to-day to replace
Mr. Wallace. He came over on the boat with the rest of
the Dartmouth men, but went into the Motor Trans-
port Service, then to Meaux, whence he was sent to us.

September 17
Captain Tucker and Lieutenant Webster came out in
the afternoon and gave us a talk on why we should become
soldiers. We were assured that it is but a matter of a
few months before we shall be promoted. Eleven of us
followed their advice. But the memory will stick fast of
the good old care-free days in S.S.U. Twenty-Eight and
the American Field Service.

Frederic R, Colie^

1 Of East Orange, New Jersey; Dartmouth, '18; served in the Vosges
Detachment as well as in Section Twenty-Eight; later a private in the
U.S.A. Ambulance Service. The above are extracts from a diary.

Life at Mourmelon

Mourmelon-le-Grand, June 20
Adjoining our cantonment here is a large network of
trenches to be used in case of a retreat. I was out walking
around them this afternoon watching the aeroplanes. The
air was just alive with them, and it was interesting to
watch the German anti-aircraft shells burst around them.
One German plane came over and was fired upon by the
French anti-aircraft guns. Soldiers working on barbed-
wire entanglements around the trenches ran for the dug-
outs, and since I was in the centre of the field I decided
it was time to run also. Several of the barracks here have
been demolished by shells. In the rear of us, just twenty
yards away, is one building all blown to pieces, and part
of the roof of our own barracks has been torn off.

Duty at M Quatre

June 21
This afternoon I was assigned duty as orderly at M
Quatre, a poste just across the valley from Mont Cornillet.
On this high hill are the first-line trenches, the French
holding this side and the Germans the other. The hill
— once wooded — is now bare, and, viewed through
glasses, looks very much like a sieve, due to the shell-
holes which are so numerous that they overlap each other.
Around M Quatre are four batteries, the soixante-quinzes
being nearest to us. Shells fall around us practically all
the time, and in consequence we remain in our dugout
nearly always. It is almost impossible to picture the fight-
ing going on here. Over the few square miles of ground in
front of us fountains of earth and stones are thrown up by
shells continuously. About five-thirty our supper was
brought out to us and it was a fine meal. At this time the
firing let up a little and only stray shots were heard. But

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along toward seven o'clock the bombardment opened
up violently again, and the calls for cars came in rapidly,
making it necessary to send for more. The sights out on
Mont Cornillet were spectacular. Illuminating bombs,
colored fire, flaming cannon, all added to the effect, until,
at about ten o'clock, the shells were dropping so fast
that it was impossible to stay above ground.

Paul Osborn

June 22
At about two o'clock this morning a guard called for
^'Encore deux voitures pour le poste Peltier.'' I went as or-
derly for Wells, and as neither of us was acquainted with
the road, Noyes, our acting Chef in the absence of Wal-
lace, went with us. Paul Osborn and Orr followed us in
another car. I never had even dreamed before just what war
really is. I can't begin to describe our ride down through
to the poste. Even Noyes lost the road, and before we
knew it we were out near the trenches, where shells were
falling heavily. As we could not use lights, and as it was
as dark as pitch, it was almost impossible to see anything
except when an illuminating bomb lighted up the barren
place. Consequently, I being orderly went ahead to "feel
out" the shell-holes. After pushing our cars out of the
mud several times, we got back on the right track. Soon
we came to a car piled with blesses and stuck in the mud.
We stopped to help them out of a shell-hole. The shrap-
nel and bombs were falling thick around us and we were
continually receiving torrents of mud and clay which
were thrown up. After getting this car off, we started for
our own cars.

Just as we were running back a cent- cinquante- cinq
struck about two metres from one car and at the same
time another six or eight metres on the other side. We
were all stunned. Suddenly I heard a moan, and then
Paul Osborn cry from under the car, "Hospital, quick!"
I did not realize anything at first, but soon came to my
senses. He had heard the whistling shell approach and had

286

SECTION TWENTY-EIGHT

dodged under the car, as he had one minute before said
he intended doing. In this case it was the worst thing he
could have done. We picked him up, and although it was
pitch dark we were able to see by the light of the bursting
shells that he was bleeding in the back profusely. As
quickly and doucement as possible we put him in the car
on a stretcher and started at once for the Village Gascon
emergency hospital. Noyes drove the car, Orr remained
inside with Paul, Wells sat on the fender feeding the
radiator water, it being in a very leaky condition, and I
ran on ahead watching the road.

Arriving at the hospital, Paul was placed on a brancard
and his wounds were dressed. He was terribly hurt, hav-
ing two large holes the size of one's fist in the back of his
right leg, and another was bored through his back and into
his lung. We were all very much alarmed, and when the
priest asked us whether he was a Catholic or Protestant,
we became more so. Finally, when the priest took me
aside and said, ''Perdu,'' I could hardly hold myself to-
gether, for it did not seem possible that the fellow who,
a little while ago, was taking a cat-nap in the dugout in
the same blanket with me, was now almost dead.

Wells and I were given some hot coffee, and the firing
having stopped somewhat, we went out to look over the
car, which w^e found to be in worse condition than we had
thought, although, strangely, the engine was all O.K. In
all, the car was shattered with eighty- five holes, quarter-
inch steel was cut through, and the side was like a porous
plaster. Some cuts were as clean as if made by a saw,
while others were jagged. A part of one shell pierced the
heavy tool box, went through the pumps and came out the
other side of the box, cutting the steel tubing and the steel
rods cleanly in half. I never want another such experience
as this night.

Champagne Sector, June 24
The shell-fire was heavy last night, when the Germans, a
long time getting our range, poured the shells in rather
hot and heavy. We went without orderlies for the first

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time, and it was anything but pleasant. I reached Vil-
lage Gascon at about 1.45 a.m. and found every one
sound asleep amidst the roar outside, and it was very
lonesome to sit there with a thousand and one rats squeal-
ing. I remained until daybreak and then stepped outside
to take a look around. It was very cold, dead men were
lying about awaiting burial, earth was thrown up, and at
intervals the "75's" poured out their deadly metal. Now
and then the "155" battery roared in masterly volubil-
ity, and off in the direction of Le Bois Sacre an infantry
attack by the French was in progress, the rapid firing
of the machine guns making things rather unpleasant.

General Baratier's Address

June 27
Osborn's funeral was held this morning at nine-thirty.
Section 28 was there in full dress, and also men from
Sections 12, 14, 19, and 2^. Mr. Andrew arrived from
the Field Service Headquarters, bringing Paul's brother,
who is in a transport section at Jouaignes. A Protestant
chaplain officiated at the ceremony, which took place in
front of a curiously painted wooden chapel erected by
the Russian troops, who were here last year. Paul's body
was sealed in a lead-lined, plain, unvarnished, white-oak
casket. Hasbrook and Shoup drove one of the ambu-
lances for a hearse. Interment was in a small cemetery
a few hundred yards from the chapel and up on the hill.
The floral display was very simple. The French personnel
of our Section sent a large pillow of red rambler roses, and
our Section gave a spray of lilies. These were all the flowers
that could be obtained. Headed by a bearer of the Ameri-
can flag, the procession moved slowly up to the cemetery,
where are buried a great many other men who have died
for France, and whose graves are marked only by plain
gray crosses. The whole ceremony was in French, and
was very beautiful, impressive, exceedingly sad, and will
be very difficult to forget. General Baratier attended and
spoke at the grave as follows:

288

SECTION TWENTY-EIGHT

In the name of the 134th Division, I salute Soldier Osborn,
who came at the outbreak of the war to aid us to triumph for
right, liberty, and justice. In his person I salute the Army of
the United States which is fighting with us. The same ideal
inspires us and leads us onward, for we are both fighting to
save the liberty of the world.

Soldier Osborn, my thoughts go out to your parents, who,
on the other side of the ocean, will learn of the grief that has
stricken them. I know that words have no power to lessen a
mother's sorrow, but I know, too, that the ideal which she
inspired in the heart of her son will be able, if not to dry her
tears, at least to transform them, for it is through these tears,
the tears of all mothers, of all women, that victory will come
— that victory which shall assure the peace of the world, which
will be theirs more than any others' since they will have paid
for it with their hearts.

Soldier Osborn, sleep on in the midst of your French com-
rades fallen, like you, in glory. Sleep on, wrapped in the folds
of the American flag, in the shadow of the banner of France.

An Attack on the Mounts

M Quatre, July 6
All was very serene until about 12.15 P-m., when the
Boches attacked on Mont Blanc and Mont Cornillet.
This was exceptionally fierce and was kept up until nearly
four o'clock. The two hills were simply one solid bank
of smoke, flame, and geysers of debris. Toward midnight I
had a call to Village Gascon and one couche and one assis
were brought out to me. The couche, who was wounded
in the leg and through the back, spoke English quite well,
and, although in great pain, managed to talk with me,
saying, among other things, " I love the Americans — !"

July 13

During the air raid in Chalons last night a paper was
dropped by an aviator informing ''tout le monde " that the
towns of Chalons, Mourmelon-Ie-Grand, Mourmelon-le-
Petit, Bar-le-D-uc, and other places would be bombarded
to-morrow night, July 14. The Germans seem to do this
once in a while to try and show superiority.

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September 3
Took a walk toward Hexen Weg and looked over the old
trenches and ground which was being fought over last
April. The whole field was covered with little graves
marked by small wooden crosses. Skeletons of soldiers
were strewn about and in some cases the uniforms had
not started to decay. Now and then we would kick over a
shoe with a foot in it. Helmets and weapons were around
everywhere.

September 7
There was a big review of the looth Regiment this after-
noon. The regiment has just been filled out with a large
number of Africans. They appear awkward at times, but
on review make a good showing. Their huge "cheese-
knives" are the terror of the Germans.

October 13
Every one is packing up preparatory to leaving to-morrow
at 3 A.M., for Champigny. It is necessary to leave at this
early hour because the road is exposed and unsafe for the
convoy to pass by daylight.

Champigny, October 16
This sector is a quiet one at present. A few obus come in,
but not very close. We carry the blesses to Chalons-sur-
Vesle. It is always very dark by the time we reach Reims
and so very difficult getting around. In addition, the
streets are full of barbed wire and the main ones barri-
caded. These barricades are strongly built and are pro-
vided with loopholes through which it is possible to shoot.

John Browning Hurlbut^

1 Of Hartford, Connecticut; Dartmouth, '18; served with Section Twen-
ty-eight of the Field Service from its formation and subsequently in the
U.S.A. Ambulance Service. The above are extracts from a diary.

"LA CROIX DE GUERRE FRANqjAISE"

Ill

MORITURI SALUTAMUS

Wednesday, June 28, 1917
Paul Osborn was wounded on last Thursday night, but
fought death until his heart failed him yesterday morning.
If anything happens to me, I pray God that I may be as
noble, as courageous, and as thoughtful of others as Paul
was. One of the first things he did in the hospital was to
ask for cigarettes — he does not smoke himself — to give
to the blesses and attendants around him. About the last
thing he said was, " I am going to fight this and win out."
Then he went to sleep, became unconscious, and died
when his heart failed him a half-hour or so later. He never
came to consciousness in his last moments; so he passed
away just as though he was going to sleep. He did not
know that his leg was amputated. His brother, who is in
the Camion Service, arrived here about two hours after
his death. He lost the battle of life, but he did "win out,"
for he must have won a place of honor in eternal life.

From all this you can realize that we are in a particu-
larly dangerous sector, and you would realize it more
vividly if you could go to our pastes and hear the shells
flying. Three more of our autos were badly smashed up
yesterday, but we have them all ready for service again.
The boys were in the dugouts at the time, so no one was
injured ; but had they been at the side of their ambulances,
it is certain that more would be in the hospital to-day.
The boys are all playing as safe as possible when not mak-
ing a run. Of course, when a call comes for an ambulance,
they never flinch; but when we are waiting for a call, we
keep within reach of the dugouts. But whatever happens,
we are all ready to do our duty and to do our best. . . .

Remember that we are in this war to the finish, and if
our hour comes, we are glad to go if in the meantime we

291

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

have done a noble work. We must all join the fight for
humanity and civilization whatever the outcome, and
after being here and seeing graveyards with a couple of
thousand dead in each one, it seems that one life is a
small sacrifice. It is a thousand dying that makes a
difference.

Stanley Hill^

^ Of Lexington, Massachusetts; Dartmouth, 'i8; wounded July 15,
1918, at the beginning of the Second Battle of the Marne, while driving a
load of blesses through a town which was under fire. His skull was frac-
tured by a fragment from a shell and he died August 14, 1918, in the hos-
pital of La Veuve. The above is from an unpublished letter to his father.

z&iaSaajt.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

S.S.U. Twenty-Eight was taken over by the Government
September 17, 1917, at Mourmelon-le-Grand, while it was
working with the 134th Division of Infantry, and was called
thereafter Section Six-Forty. A week after being militarized
we were relieved by S.S.U. Seventeen and went with the
134th to Damery-sur-Marne for a repos of three weeks. From
Damery we went to Champigny, where we worked the postes
on the northwest side of Reims and a few call postes in other
parts of the city. Evacuation work was from Chalons-sur-Vesle
to Bouleuse, Jonchery, Sapicourt, and Trigny. The latter part
of January we moved into the city proper and had all our
postes in the city.

About February i we went "out" en repos to Darnery for
three weeks, then came back to our old quarters in the city, and
at this time we took over all the postes in the city, which we
worked alone until August 17. After a couple of weeks we
moved outside the city limits, where we lived in a candle fac-
tory. After the German attacks on March i we moved to
Sacy, eight kilometres from Reims. Up to this time Reims had
been quiet, and with this exception was until the Germans
began their destruction in early April. This lasted about ten
days, and then things were quiet until the retreat in May
from the Aisne. At this time we were very busy and gave con-
siderable help to S.S.A. Twenty on our left, whose division,
the 45th Colonials, did excellent work m covering the retreat.

After a couple of days we moved into the woods on the
road between Epernay and Reims, near Mont Chenot.

Our Division was in line when the attack of July 15 came,
and again we were very busy. August 17 the Section was sent
to Nogent-en-Bassigny to join the 91st American Division.
In September we went to a position in reserve near Void, where
we stayed until the Saint-Mihiel drive was over. From here we
went to Parois, where we were when the attack of September
26 commenced. As the attack advanced we had postes^ in Very,
Cheppy, Epinonville, Eclisfontaine. After ten days in action
we came down to Revigny where the Division entrained for
Belgium, ten cars going by flatcar and ten over the road.

We camped two days in the English dugouts at Ypres, and
then had about ten days' rest before the 91st went into action,

293

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

October 29. At this time Lieutenant Gile was relieved by Lieu-
tenant Eno. November 4 the 91st received G.M.C.'s and we
were sent to Nancy, where we were when the Armistice was
signed, Lieutenant Eno now being relieved by Lieutenant
Raydon. November 12 we were assigned to the 76th French
Division, and started for Germany z^ia Metz, Thionville, Sierck,
Merzig, Hamburg, Alzey, Biebrich, and ended at Kriftel where
we were until relieved March 15.

We received a Section Citation from the 134th D.L for
work in Reims during May and June and a letter of com-
mendation from the Division Surgeon of the 91st.

Converse Hill ^

1 Of Lexington, Massachusetts; Cornell, '17; joined the Field Service in
May, 1917; served in Section Twenty-Eight and in the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service during the war. Brother of Stanley Hill, who was killed.

Section Sixty-Four

THE STORY TOLD BY
I. Richard Wilbur Westwood

SUMMARY

On June ii Section Sixty-Four left for the training-camp at
May-en-Multien. On June 21, it took over a section of French
cars at Mouy-Bury and left for Rupt-sur-Moselle, in Lorraine.
After a stay there, en repos, of almost a month, it was trans-
ferred to Rougemont-le-Chateau, later going on to Vesoul, in
the extreme east of France, in the Haute Saone, back of the
Alsatian front. After nearly a month of evacuation work here,
it convoyed down into Lorraine by way of Contrexeville and
Neuf chateau, and finally at Conde-en-Barrois was attached
to the 19th Division. On September 12 it went to Glorieux,
near Verdun, handling wounded from the pastes of the Car-
riere des Anglais, Vacherauville, and La Fourche. On October 2
it was en repos at Vanault-les-Dames, near Vitry-le-Frangois,
and on the loth left for Genicourt. There, on October 26, a
section of Fords relieved Sixty-Four, its Fiats were turned
in to the French pare, and the men left to enter other services
or be reassigned in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Section Sixty-Four

You have become a forge of snow-white fire,
A crucible of molten steel, O France !
Your sons are stars who cluster to a dawn
And fade in light for you,
O glorious France!

Edgar Lee Masters

May-en-Multien — French Ambulances

Among ourselves, we used to call it the " Flying Sixty-
Fourth," not because our cars had wings, but because we
once hoped to be one of those mythical sections that hop
around from offensive to offensive. In reality, we did not
fly much, but we jumped a lot.

But before we can speak of Section Sixty- Four as such,
we must make our start from the Yale Campus. Through
the cooperation of some Yale men and the Yale News,
sixty Yale men were enlisted in the American Field Serv-
ice. They gathered in New York during the week of May
21, and, after some fine hospitality and a send-off from
the Yale Club of New York, sailed on May 26.

We all enjoyed the voyage, the novelty of our first view
of France, and of course, Paris. After a week of uniform-
fittings, sight-seeing, and equipping, some of our unit
entered the camion branch of the Service, but forty of
us left for the ambulance camp at May-en-Multien,
where we were drilled d la franqaise. On the evening of
June 20 our orders came, and we left the next morning
under the leadership of Lloyd Kitchel. The complement

297

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

of the Section of forty-five men was filled out with four
men from Columbia and one from Syracuse University.
As an introduction to the discomforts of life in the
ambulance service, our sojourn at Mouy-Bury boded
much. Six days of sleeping in straw on the fourth floor
in an old mill, with six hundred poilus beneath us; six
days of — well, perhaps they were intended as meals ;
six days of wading in mud — all these bothers were
mitigated only by the fact that we had our cars. Here,
too, Lieutenant Jacques Dumont and the French per-
sonnel joined us, and on June 26 we started off on our first
convoy, headed in the general direction of the Vosges.

On the Moselle

Our Jeffery cars, left-overs from a French ambulance
section, behaved better than we anticipated, and after
five days of a beautiful trip, fifteen of our cars — we felt
this a very fair percentage — rolled through the foot-
hills of the Vosges and into Rupt-sur-Moselle, the head-
quarters of the Automobile Service of the Seventh Army.
We celebrated the Fourth here, washed cars often and
for no apparent reason, drilled more often, and on July
17 started away to Rougemont-le-Chateau.

Our arrival in Rougemont promised much, for French
anti-aircraft guns were continually putting clouds in the
sky in vain attempts to land a Boche. But this town pro-
vided only a little more work than Rupt.

Then on July 29 we left for Vesoul, where, on the night
of our arrival, we did our first bit of real work by evacua-
ting three hundred blesses from the station to the many
hospitals of the city. Vesoul was indeed a city, not a town,
and our life there was a permission with all expenses
paid. Here it was that we made our home until Au-
gust 24, patronizing the patisseries, the cinema, and the
hotel, holding dinner parties at will and writing distress
calls to our Paris banks. Here, too, we accumulated a
whole new set of Fiats, put them in good shape, and
then sat on the front seats awaiting developments.

298

SECTION SIXTY-FOUR

The developments developed on August 24 and we
rolled off in convoy again, by way of Contrexeville and
Neufchateau, to Bar-le-Duc, where we expected to re-
ceive orders to go into action. But again we were disap-
pointed.

Verdun at Last

Cond6-en-Barrois was our next home, where we were
at last attached to a division, and for two w^eeks we car-
ried malades into Bar-le-Duc, watched "Fritz," from our
barracks, bomb the city, and asked the Frenchmen when
they would leave.

September 12 was a big day in the history of the "Fly-
ing Sixty-Fourth," and we were all happy as we dusted
along the famous Bar-le-Duc-Verdun road in the di-
rection of Verdun. This was the first time we had ever had
a definite objective.

Until the first of October we made up for the time we
had lost in the past. We knew shells and shell-holes,
we knew dark nights, we knew pursuing avians with ac-
tive machine guns, and we knew days and days of hard
action.

From Verdun we went back for a week's repos and re-
cuperation at Vanault-les-Dames. Then we moved to the
Les Eparges sector, where we waited for another Sec-
tion to relieve us. On October 24 the relief came and we
retired to Bar-le-Duc, where a banquet celebrated the
last night of the Section, and the boys separated to seek
other fields. After it was all over, there was not a man
in the Section who regretted these five months in the
Ambulance Service, for though our seemingly endless
repos was harder than work, we saw some of the beauti-
ful parts of France, and we had done at least a little to
help the cause.

Richard Wilbur Westwood ^

^ Of Newton, Massachusetts; Columbia, '19; member of Sections Sixty-
Four and Four of the American Field Service; subsequently in the U.S. A
Ambulance Service in France.

«-■ &ft^ T^e^^-^f^ «e.j%

Section Sixty-Five

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Louis G. Caldwell
IL Raymond W. Gauger
in. Paul A. Redmond

SUMMARY

Section Sixty-Five went from Paris to the training-camp at
May-en-Multien in June, 1917. It left there for Courcelles, be-
tween Braisne and Fismes, on the Vesle, on July 4, taking over
a section of French cars and being attached to the 68th French
Division, of the Tenth Army. Its station was Vendresse, about
three miles from the Aisne, with halfway stations at Longueval
and Cuissy, with Paissy as advanced poste de secours, as well
as serving at Q^uilly by taking blesses to points farther in the
rear. On July 11 the entire Division moved into line, and the
Section was cantoned at Villers-en-Prayeres. In addition the
Section made call trips to Madagascar Hill, an artillery poste,
and evacuated from Longueval, Saint-Gilles, Courlandon,
Mont Notre Dame, and other hospitals.

Following this it went en repos at Bezu-Saint-Germain, and
then for a week at Roncheres. On August 20 it returned to the
old sector, with the same cantonment and posies. It was en-
listed in the United States Army on September 8 and subse-
quently became Section Six-Twenty-Two.

^'^i*^^

-.^:%?^^^':-^^=-^,

Section Sixty-Five

At the Mill of May-en-Multien

The birth of the soul of Section Sixty-Five was not at-
tended by anything heroic; it sprang into being around a
huge manure-pile at the old mill near May-en-Multien.
On the morning of June 19, 1917 — and a hot sunny
morning it was — two small units of boys from the
Middle West were assembled in the corner of the mill-
yard, together with three rickety shovels, an old cart,
and a mule. The latter had been captured from the Ger-
mans, which fact, according to its French owner, ex-
plained why it always did the opposite to what it was
told ; it did not understand the French language. Before
the day was over, however, it had had a very good in-
struction in English and gradually grew to comprehend
certain words excellently.

A week before about one hundred and fifty men had
been sent out from Paris to form the first contingent at the
newly installed camp at the mill and had been separated
into four sections of between thirty and forty members
each. There was one section composed entirely of Yale
men; another of Princeton men; a third of unattached
men, called ** miscellaneous"; and fourth, our Illinois-
Chicago Section, formed from the union of a unit of
eighteen men mostly from the University of Illinois and
a unit of twelve men who lived in or near Chicago. As
this fourth section labored perspiringly on the manure-

303

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

pile, which they v/ere removing, the other three were out
on the near-by roads, drilling under the direction of an
excitable French Marechal des logis. Occasionally one
section would march into the mill yard, execute a French
manoeuvre with questionable ease, and march out again,
at the same time casting a sidelong smile at the section
en repos. Down near the creek could be faintly heard the
stentorian commands of the Yale leader, ''A droite, droite!
En avant, marchef From amidst a cloud of dust on the
road toward the chateau to the east came the nasal drone
of the acting sergeant of the Princeton Section, " Un,
deux, un, deux, un, deux, trots, quatre'' — keeping the
tread of his forty men in unison.

The purpose of the camp at the mill was to train the
incoming hosts of would-be ambulance drivers to handle
cars until such time as ambulances could be supplied
for new sections. For this purpose two aged Fords had
been supplied, one of which would go and the other of
which could be started — occasionally. To keep the
men occupied, a daily drill was conducted according to
the French manual. Every fourth day each section took
its turn en repos.

The French drill gave us but one inspiration, the old
section song which, though unprintable in parts, never-
theless found its way into the repertoire of most sections
of the Service. For it was at Courcelles, a later canton-
ment, that several near-poets evolved the parent chorus
from which later sprang a litter of verses, sung to the
tune of " Drunk Last Night." The chorus ran as follows:

" Rassemblement ! Garde a vous!

\ En avant, Marche! as the Frenchmen do;

Un, deux, trois, quatre,

What the hell do you think of that?
We never used to do like this before."

On the memorable day of which I speak, the head of
the camp, Mr. Fisher, who has been beloved and respected
by all who have come under his direction, was absent,

304

THE FINAL IHUVIXG TEST — OliSTACLL UumilNe.

(iEXERAL ViKW Ul Tlli. 1 Aii.M AT .MA i L.N-.MULTIEN

SECTION SIXTY-FIVE

and a young graduate from the officers' school at Meaux
was temporarily in charge. Anxious to have every one
work as hard as the French had made him labor at Meaux,
he set our squad en repos at the hardest job he could find.
This was to transfer the aforesaid manure-pile, the accu-
mulation of countless ages, from its ancient resting-place
in the corner of the mill yard, into the near-by fields. Her-
cules could not have found his task of cleaning the Augean
stables any more stupendous. Throughout the whole day
and long after the other sections had ceased drilling, the
cart was being filled, led away, unloaded, and brought
back to be refilled. Finally, late in the afternoon, a merci-
ful rain put an end to further work, but not until pictures
of the Illinois-Chicago unit about the manure-pile, with
cart and mule, had been taken and labelled, "Friends of
France."

Leaving May-en-Multien for the Front

That night, at nine-thirty, the reward came. Rumor had
had it that it might be a matter of weeks before ambu-
lances for a new section could be supplied. Now, sud-
denly, however, the order was received from Paris to
send in forty-two men, who were to go out immediately
on French cars in a new section. So the Illinois-Chicago
group was told to pack up and be ready to leave early in
the morning, while twelve men were selected from the
"miscellaneous" body to fill out the number. Conse-
quently, at eight o'clock the next day we were assembled
and marched to the railway station at Crouy-sur-Ourcq,
the first section to graduate from the new camp. Most of
us felt a tinge of regret at leaving the old mill ; for a more
lovely spot could scarcely have been found for an ambu-
lance training-school.

That same night we left Paris for Beauvais and were
there conducted to a palatial cantonment in a school-
house, where, on the following morning, we were intro-
duced to our cars, twenty huge Berliet ambulances, which
had been overhauled and put in excellent condition only

305

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

a few days before. A week was spent in becoming ac-
quainted with Berliet idiosyncrasies and in learning to
drive in convoy over the hills in the surrounding country.
On June 24, our French Lieutenant and fourrier arrived
— the former a jolly, short, fat individual named Blachot,
and the latter a tall, excitable, hot-tempered chap named
Floret.

We were now ready to leave for the front. On June 26,
Section Sixty-Five became officially a part of the French
army, and left Beauvais in convoy for somewhere in the
region of Noyon. Twenty amibulances in convoy, at equal
distances apart along a poplar-lined country road, is a
fine sight, and our first glimpse of ourselves made us
feel proud. The ride was one that none of us will ever
forget. The coquelicots — the French poppies — were in
bloom everywhere and spotted the fields with a brilliant
crimson, while yellow and blue flowers varied the color
scheme, so that in whatever direction one looked, the eye
was met by a mass of color. We passed village after village,
each with its little church and cluster of white dwellings
with red-tiled roofs, then out again on the roads lined
with stately trees. Now for the first time most of us be-
gan to realize how charming a country is France.

NoYON — The Chemin des Dames

In the afternoon signs of the devastation of war began to
appear. First came a line of trenches, with a maze of
barbed wire before them, stretching away from either
side of the road. Each hamlet we passed through had more
of its dwellings in ruins and fewer inhabitants than the
last, until finally the once beautiful town of Lassigny
presented a picture of almost absolute desolation. Its
large church was only a white ruin, little more than a
pile of stones, and the only human beings to be seen were
a few German prisoners and their guards, working over
the debris of once happy homes. Surrounding the town
the country was honeycombed with trenches running in
every direction, amidst a vast tangle of barbed wire. On

306

SECTION SIXTY-FIVE

one slope across a valley from us the trenches made a
web of white lines, diverging and intersecting, the white
appearance being due to the white sand and stone which
had been dug up in their construction. Shell-holes, abris,
remains of log roads and miniature railways were every-
where. The trees, badly damaged or stripped of foliage
and branches, stood up like huge skeletons. For a long
stretch there were no trees at all, and, needless to say,
not a sign of a dwelling. We were passing over the scene
of the famous Hindenburg strategic retreat of March,
191 7. Yet It was not an ugly sight, for everywhere, over
the trenches and amidst the barbed wire, was a crimson
mass of coqiielicots.

We passed a week in the region of Noyon, at the little
hamlets of Passel and Le Mesnil, and on July 2 we went
to Courcelles, in a sector of the Chemin des Dames, where
we were given a fine cantonment, an entire barrack, which
we found highly satisfactory. We were about seven and a
half miles from the front line, and were held in reser\'e
until our Division, the 68th, should move into line.

The night of July 5, or rather at i a.m. on July 6, we
had our first real thrill. We were awakened suddenly by
a terrific crash which seemed to have taken place within
an inch of our ears. The crash was followed by two more.
Immediately the whole valley seemed alive with anti-
aircraft guns, searchlights and tracer lights. A French
"75" bellowed forth within a hundred yards of the can-
tonment. In the short intermissions of silence we could
hear, far above us, the faint purring of an aeroplane. We
were in the centre of a German aerial bombing party.
Altogether six bombs were dropped, the one that awak-
ened us falling within a hundred yards of our cantonment.
The following morning we were requested by French
officers to take down the large American flag which flew
over our barracks. It had been raised on the Fourth of
July. In the opinion of the Frenchmen this flag had drawn
the attack.

A couple of days after the air raid just mentioned, six of

3C7

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

our cars were loaned to a French section during one of the
hottest attacks of the season on the Chemin des Dames.
The French section with whom our six cars worked had
lost one man killed during the night. For hours our boys
had run back and forth over roads strange to them, past
woods full of French batteries. They had made one trip
to Paissy, an advanced poste de secours, and the rest of
the time had taken wounded from a triage at QEuilly to
points farther in the rear, which necessitated crossing
the bridges over the Aisne and the Aisne Canal on every
trip, under regular shell-fire.

When that work was about done, the relief found these
men sitting under a little tent at CEuilly, haggard and
tired, too nervous to sleep. A few weeks later, when such
experiences were an everyday occurrence, they could
laugh at their emotions over the original trip to Paissy.
All now freely admit that they had been scared. Long
afterwards Fred Smith confessed that before going out
to replace Swain and his damaged ambulance, he had
hurriedly written home a "last letter," saying he didn't
know whether he would ever come back alive.

All June, July, and sporadically in August and Septem-
ber, the army of the Crown Prince attempted In vain to
push the French off the California Plateau and the Che-
min des Dames — a road coursing along the top of the
plateau from east to west for about twenty-five kilo-
metres, constructed by Louis XV to facilitate the visits
of one of his daughters to her maid of honor. Attack after
attack was delivered, masses of men were hurled lavishly
into the attempt, but the French held their ground. Op-
posite Cerny the front lines were only forty metres apart,,
and the plateau became a great upheaved stretch of shell-
holes. Trenches disappeared and men lived and fought
in Improvised troughs between shell-holes.

Gas and liquid fire played their part in the struggle.
The lay of the land was such as to favor the effective-
ness of the gas, for by pouring gas-shells Into the valleys
which cut into the plateau, it would settle there, and traf-

308

SECTION SIXTY-FIVE

fie along the valley road for artillery trains, infantry, or
ambulances — be rendered very dangerous. Much of the
artillery itself was reached by the fumes. It was estimated
that the Germans were pouring forty thousand gas-shells
a day into the ranks and rear of the French along that
one small sector. Such was the sector to which we had
come, all of us except our Chef uninitiated into the sights
and sounds of war.

Taking over the Postes

On July II the 68th Division moved into the line and we
took over our postes, the two little villages of Vendresse
and Cuissy-et-Geny, the first-named being an advance
station less than eight hundred metres from the Boche
lines, and the latter an artillery poste de secours farther
in the rear. Besides we made trips on call to Madagascar
Hill, an artillery poste, and evacuated to a triage at Lon-
gueval. We maintained three cars at Vendresse, working
exclusively between Vendresse and Longueval, and four
cars at Longueval, evacuating the transportable wounded
to hospitals at Saint-Gilles, Courlandon, Mont Notre
Dame, and other towns. Ambulances were sent to the
artillery postes only on receiving a call therefrom by tele-
phone. The Section had been divided into two squads of
ten cars, each under a Sous-Chef. Squad i was headed by
Caldwell and Squad 2 by Quirin. The squads took turns
of two days on duty and two days en repos, although it
was soon apparent that with the normal number of ac-
cidents and mishaps, one squad was rarely sufficient to do
the work required, and the other had to be called on for
cars.

Our cantonment for the first two weeks at Villers-en-
Prayeres was worse than none. It consisted of a small
ruined house of two floors, with one room downstairs and
two above. The lower room was, with great difficulty,
made to accommodate eleven stretchers. A whole divi-
sion of rats was cantoned there also. Of the two rooms
above, accessible only by a sort of ladder outside, one

309

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

was fair, with not too many holes in the roof, while the
other had approximately only three walls, and not all of
either the floor or ceiling. Practically all equipment had
to be stored in a little shed in the rear, which also served
as a dining-room, and where there was place for only
about two thirds of the Section to eat at one time.

Vendresse was a little town about three miles from the
edge of the Aisne. The road crossed the Aisne Canal and
River and the Oise Canal at Bourg-et-Comin, and passing
through this town, coursed up the valley, over a hundred
yards of poorly improvised board road past Madagascar
Hill, the side of which was thick with French cannon, past
the Moulins fork and the woods thick with hidden guns,
to the left around a slight rise into a thoroughly exposed
half-kilometre of road in plain view of the Germans on
the plateau at the east corner of the valley. At this rise
was a turn-out and sign-post directing all vehicles to turn
there and go no farther. Such signs, however, are not
meant for ambulances. In fact ambulances usually go any-
where in France, gendarmes and military zones notwith-
standing, so complete is the right-of-way of the red cross.

Our way through Vendresse took us to the west end of
the town, where we backed into a court between two stone
walls. In the southeast corner of the court was a passage-
way, thatched and covered with sandbags, which led to a
stairway down into the magnificent subterranean vaults
which constituted the poste de secours, where were in all,
three levels, one beneath the other, each level contain-
ing spacious chambers and passages cut in the rock. To
the north, a long passageway led beneath to a ruined
chateau across the road, where stairs mounted to another
outer opening. Northern France is replete with such
caves and cellars. The one at our poste is said to have been
used as the wine and mushroom cellar of the chateau.
These caves and cellars furnished admirable refuge for
the wounded in the Great War. Indeed the whole system
of evacuating wounded was adapted to whatever hap-
pened to be the scheme of things as the Frenchman found

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SECTION SIXTY-FIVE

it. There seemed to be no inflexible rule and system of
pastes and hospitals, and it was better that there was not.

Once inside the cellar at Vendresse, wounded, stretcher-
bearers, doctors, and ambulance drivers were perfectly
safe. Shells might land directly above the cellar, as they
frequently did, creating no more terrifying manifestation
than a dull thud and the shaking of a few chips of rock
from the ceiling. It was always a relief to know that, hav-
ing run the gauntlet of shells and gas from Bourg-et-
Comin, one here was safe at least for a few minutes.

The story of our experiences at Vendresse, if complete,
would fill a chapter in itself, and must necessarily be re-
stricted. On their first trip to the paste, Gemmill and
Myers, on Car 2, missed the turn-off into the town and
continued on the Troyon road, climbing up the plateau.
Suddenly they saw the heads of Frenchmen peering out
of a trench ahead and arms in blue wildly gesticulating
to them to turn back. It was the reserve line of trenches,
the occupants of which were in terror lest the cloud of
dust created by the ambulance might draw on them the
German fire. Gemmill, who was an excellent driver, did
not stop to turn around, but simply backed down the slope
and around into Vendresse at full speed. Holton and
Atherton, on Number 8, on one of their first trips, had the
uncanny experience of seeing a Frenchman, some thirty
yards ahead on the road, blown into atoms by an obus.

Cuissy, our artillery paste, was a difTerent affair — a
cave hollowed out in the side of a cliff high on a plateau.
There were two routes to it, one the road up over the
plateau from CEuilly, the other an old wagon-road across
a field, through the valley and up a steep slope — a con-
stant succession of shell-holes and, on rainy days, almost
impassable. Though we made some twenty-five or thirty
trips to Cuissy we miraculously escaped without having
a single casualty among the men, but we did suffer seri-
ously in regard to the cars. There was scarcely a car
among the twenty Berliets but showed traces of its Cuissy
trip, the damage being anywhere from the complete dem-

311

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

olition of the ambulance to having a horn or a fender
ripped off by eclats. Car lo made a memorable night
trip, with Lowes and Hawley Smith as drivers, in which
the car was punctured with thirty-seven eclat holes and
neither driver was hurt. Car i, while its drivers, Page and
Tallmadge, were standing only a few feet away, received
a shell through the top, which, curiously, did not explode,
and after going through the seat and tool-box, buried it-
self several feet in the ground.

A Strong Attack

The climax of our first visit to the Chemin des Dames
sector came with the attack of July 30. Artillery fire in
the afternoon further demolished the remains of the build-
ings above the ahri and paste and the buildings around
the court, as well as the two cars standing there at the
time. When relief cars and the little Ford staff car con-
taining the Chef SiVid Sous- Chef SLvrived, they found every
room of the paste packed with wounded. There had been
a terrific German attack in the afternoon, in which the
Boches threatened to break clear though the French lines.
They had broken the first two lines of trenches at several
points and advance bombing-parties had reached Troyon,
a half-kilometre away. The French had been digging a
new line of trenches about two hundred metres behind
Vendresse, preparing to fall back. All the afternoon our
boys had been in the paste, listening to the directions of
the Medecin Chef as to the best way to gain safety in case
this occurred. Two regiments of our Division, which had
been relieved in the morning, preparing to go en repos,
had been rushed back to attempt to hold the advance
and to retake the lost ground.

Immediately the work of evacuating the wounded was
undertaken. Before long we had to call on every car we
had left, making in all thirteen cars serving Vendresse,
four serving the halfway station at Longueval, and one
reserved for Cuissy calls. As fast as one car was loaded and
sent off, another was backed into the courtyard. Finally

312

SECTION SIXTY-FIVE

we reached a point where we had not a single car left, and
with wounded still coming in. Then came the discourag-
ing news that Number 2 had rolled off a wheel near Bourg
and had had to transfer its load to another car; that
Number 5 had run into Number 19 near the curve at
Vendresse, putting Number 5 out of commission with a
bent axle; and that Number 11 had smashed its oil-tank
on a shell-hole.

Thus crippled we continued to do the work, instructing
every driver to lose no time. Providence was with us,
however, for no sooner would we ship off the last car and
start praying for another to arrive than we would hear the
welcome whirr of a Berliet motor speeding up to Ven-
dresse. Toward morning conditions were relieved by the
decreasing number of wounded and by the return of car 2.
By six o'clock we were able to send back all but three
cars, and to arrange for hauling back cars 4 and 11. Car 3
could not be moved and had to be taken by a tractor on
the following day.

In the afternoon of August i, Henry Cooper performed
Kx deed for which he deserves much credit. A wagon full of
hand grenades had been wrecked on the Vendresse road
and the grenades lay scattered around for a space of
thirty or forty feet. Before Cooper arrived there with his
ambulance several French infantrymen had been killed
and many more wounded in walking over these grenades.
Thereupon Cooper sent his driving partner on with the
ambulance, while he himself remained behind and spent
well over an hour in clearing the road of the danger and
in warning Frenchmen who passed.

En Repos

It was a tired Section that left Villers-en-Prayeres on
August 2 for a well-earned rest in the rear ; and it was more
than a tired-looking line of cars, not a single one of them
having escaped some degree of battering. Yet it was a
happy crowd, particularly so because we had not had a
single casualty, whereas all the other sections in the sec-

313

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

tor, with less dangerous pastes, had suffered at least one
casualty — Field Service Section Sixty-Six to the right
having lost two men, the French section to the left, one,
and the section which preceded us at our pastes having
lost three men. The graves of the latter at Longueval had
held an ominous significance for all of us.

While we were en repos at Bezu-Saint-Germain, near
Chateau-Thierry, we were given our divisional citation.
The citation ceremony was a memorable event. We
marched onto a large field presenting a glorious view of
the Marne Valley. Here we found our Division, its ranks
sadly depleted by the last three weeks of fighting. Many
awards of medals were made, and finally came our turn.
As the General turned toward us, the Division band
played the " Star- Spangled Banner," followed by the Mar-
seillaise. Never had we felt as we did then the stirring
beauty of those battle calls of freedom, and never had
we realized so strongly the bond of a common cause
which linked us to those thousands of onlooking French-
men. There were tears in many eyes. Fred Spencer was
the standard-bearer. The General of the Division pinned
a Croix de Guerre on our flag and then kissed Fred on
both cheeks. Fred turned around and grinned!

A week at Roncheres followed. Here we were given
nineteen bumpy Fiats for our Berliets, and again attached
to a division — this time the 151st. In addition, we made
the acquaintance of a regiment of Senegalese, whom Haw-
ley Smith endeavored to teach the English language by
offering them bribes of cigarettes.

The Return to the Same Sector

When we returned to the front after our repos the Section
was somewhat changed. Lieutenant Blachot had left
som.e time previously to go into the Transport Service.
Lieutenant Max Decugis, the tennis champion of France,
had succeeded him, but he too left at the end of August,
regretted and regretful.

On August 20 we returned to our old sector, the

314

SECTION SIXTY-FIVE

same cantonment and the same pastes, with Moulins,
Paissy, Pargnan, Jumigny, and work at CEuilly added.
The situation had now quieted down so that we were able
to do the work previously done by our Section and
another. For the most part our second sojourn at the
Chemin des Dames offers few unusual incidents. The
wounded were less numerous, though more cars were
actually on duty. Perhaps the most notable part of the
four weeks was the nightly cloud of gas which the Boches
poured in as regularly as clockwork. Many times entire
trips to the pastes had to be made through gas-fumes, and
once in a while the gas crossed the Aisne and extended
into Villers-en-Prayeres, which was now occasionally un-
der fire. The bridge across the Aisne to CEuilly was con-
tinually under shell-fire, and a rain of eclats pattered into
the village, their force spent.

Another notable part of these weeks was running a
gauntlet of air raids on the way to the hospitals. We no
longer evacuated to Longueval and frequently had to go
clear to Montigny, some forty kilometres away through
Fismes and Courlandon, Every night Fismes, Courlandon,
and Montigny were subjected to air raids, and our ambu-
lances seemed to follow the planes from one town to
another, arriving just in time for fireworks at each place.

A Lucky Escape

On one day early in our second visit to the Chemin des
Dames four of our cars were stationed near a chateau at
CEuilly. The Etat-Major of the Division was lodged in
this chateau. Suddenly a salvo of shells broke the tran-
quillity of what had been a very quiet day. The first of
these shells which rained on the chateau lit about thirty
feet in front of a row of four of our cars, on the road, await-
ing their turn to go to their pastes. It smashed the radia-
tors of two of them and riddled them with eclat holes. Of
our eight men, some sitting in front of cars, and some
lying down inside, two, only, were scratched and the rest
escaped unhurt. However, two Frenchmen much farther

315

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

away were killed and some fifteen more wounded. Barker,
sitting on the front seat of car 20, had his figure outlined
on the wall of the car with eclat holes: one a half-inch
above his head, another taking off the horn by his arm,
and a third tearing through the fender and into the car
just beneath his feet. The boys say he looked up in mild
surprise.

Paul C. Bentley killed

Just before the official demise of the old organization, the
tragedy occurred which marred the happy record of the
Section and must always inject a sad note into memories
of an otherwise glorious summer. I refer to the death of
Paul C. Bentley,^ who succumbed on September 16 to
wounds received while on duty three days before. At the
same time and by the same shell, Carson Ricks, a new
member of the Section, suffered wounds which may cost
him the use of one arm. Paul's brave fight after his wounds
had laid him low was an inspiration and an example of
quiet courage.

Gradually the complexion of the Section was changing,
and one could not but feel intuitively that the days of old
Sixty-Five were about numbered. In fact, at the end of
September, the U.S. Army took us over. Eight members
enlisted, the rest having made plans to go into other work,
and thus ended the existence of Section Sixty- Five.

Louis G. Caldwell ^

' Paul Cody Bentley, of Chicago, Illinois; Harvard, '17; joined the
Field Service in May, 1917; served in Section Sixty-Five; he was wounded
at the Chemin des Dames on September 13, 19 17, and died three days later.

'^ Of Oak Park, Illinois; Amherst, '13; North-Western, '16; served in the
Field Service as Sous-Chef oi Section Sixty-Five until September, 1917; sub-
sequently a Sous- Lieutenant in French Artillery.

<
i-l

O
Q

a
a

Rememberings

After Sixty-Five left May, it went by way of Paris to
Beauvais, which had not seen many Americans before,
and the elite of the town received us with open arms. We
were curiosities in those days. Then there were the ''vieilles
dames, tin pen sourdes," and toothless, who had to be
reassured time after time that we really were Ameri-
cans. " Vous-etes des americains, Messieurs! " — "^/i" —
" Vousetes nombreux en France? " "Ahl"" TiensI Tiens! "
''Cest loin VAmerique, u'est-ce pas?'' ''Mais vous-avez
tons des belles dents. Comment se fait-iW They were
a dear lot, those old, inquisitive, and kindly ladies at
Beauvais.

• ••*•••••••

Across the road from us at Courcelles was a Midi
regiment from the 68th Division, to which we were later
attached. We gave them cigarettes for songs, and wine
for knickknacks and souvenirs. They made canes, ham-
mered brass, and laundered during the spare time of
waiting for the day of going up. Section Sixty-Five
spent the time watching planes, peeling "spuds," writing
reams of letters, and discussing the big issues of the war.
The night before we went up with the Division we took
a can of pinard out under the apple trees and drew over
a group of poilus, who sang their songs of the Midi prov-
inces— '^ Mofitagnard/* "Gardez mes amours toujours,''
"Ah, pays lointain'' '' U Arlesienne'' — some gay, some
passionate, and others sentimental — so justifiably sen-
timental during those occasional hours of reflection and
uncertainty. I remember afterwards looking among the
regiments of the Division, after their hard losses above
Craonne in July — looking for these fellows from the
Midi who sang for us under the trees at Courcelles. I

317

THE AIVIERICAN FIELD SERVICE

wanted to learn all the words of " L'Arlesienne, la belle
divine,'' but I never saw but one of the lot after they
went into line: I carried him to Longueval. He sang a
tune much different from the airs of Provence — a blub-
ber and an unconscious moan. We shall never hear those
airs again and find them half so fine, for all they may be
sung by finer voices. The background of those days
will never be again. And if it should be, we would not be
young and sensitive — it would all seem changed.

At Villers-en-Prayeres part of the church was still
standing and VAmericain often dropped in off duty to
play a bit of "Ziegfeld's Follies" on the wheezy harmo-
nium. Why not? Was not "jazz " a sacred thing to him?
An old woman used to pass the cantonment every evening
on her way to the church to burn a candle for her son lost
in the war. She was feeble and obviously poor — and
candles were high. Thereby hangs a tale of a man of
Section Sixty-Five, who, though not outwardly so, was
without a doubt the finest Christian gentleman we had.
His particular charities were his sympathy and dealings
with old ladies. He gave this particular one, as regularly
as she came, a bottle of much-coveted and valuable pe-
trol for her altar lamp ; she gave him prayers and kind-
ness in return. He may not have believed in the efficacy
of the prayers, but he believed in sympathy and kindli-
ness— and he learned much from the "vieilles dames"
of our beloved France.

Raymond W. Gauger ^

^ Of Champaign, Illinois; University of Illinois, '17; joined the Field
Service in May, 1917; served with Section Sixty-Five; subsequently a
member of the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Ill

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

Section Sixty-Five came into Paris in September, 191 7, with
eight old members enhsted in the U.S. Army. Fourteen men
from the newly arrived Syracuse Unit were placed in "Sixty-
Five," and on the morning of September 22, 1917, with new
Ford cars, and Lieutenant Sponagle in command, the Section
left for the war zone again. It then took up life en repos, not
being attached to any Division, but remaining at Fere-en-
Tardenois from September until November, 191 7. At about
this time the Section was officially renumbered Six-Twenty-
Two.

On December 22 we were attached to the 121st Division,
on the Chemin des Dames, and had (Euilly for a cantonment,
with pastes de secoiirs at Oulches, Paissy, Verneuil, and Ven-
dresse. It left the Aisne sector in April, 1918, with the 121st
Division, and convoyed to Poperinghe, Belgium, in the Ypres-
Mont Kemmel sector. The work was very hard and dangerous,
but the Section finally came x)ut, without any losses, in the
last part of May.

Repos for ten days followed at Beauvais, Then the Section
was ordered into line near Estr^es-Saint-Denis, on the Mont-
didier-Noyon front. It continued in this Oise sector, near
Compiegne, for some time, with its cantonment at Remy.
During the attack on Ferme-Porte and Ferme-des-Loges in
the first week in August, a big advance was made. Then fol-
lowed the battle of Lassigny. The headquarters of the Sec-
tion was at Bayencourt, outside Ressons-sur-Matz, Two men,
Raymond Ganger and Leo Smith, were wounded here by
eclats. Following the Lassigny battle and the German retreat,
steady progress followed toward Saint-Quentin and La Fere.
Then the 121st Division was ordered to the Chemin des Dames,
and we followed, going into line at Vailly, between Soissons
and Braisne, and having a poste at Ostel. It was here that Hugh
McNair lost his right leg when he was struck by a large piece
of eclat. It was here, too, that we received a section citation.

On October 13, 1918, we crossed the Chemin des Dames,
following the German retreat, and had a cantonment at Bru-
yeres, near Laon. We advanced steadily from this time, and

319

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

the Armistice found us at Auvillers, near Rocroi, on the Bel-
gian frontier. We returned to Samoussy, near Laon, until
December lo. Then we started for Germany, the Division
marching all the way, via Reims, Chalons, and Nancy, and
across the Lorraine frontier at Nomeny to Saargemund. The
Division then broke up and we went to Saarburg, and then to
Saint-Avoid, near Metz. On March 25 the Section was or-
dered in to Versailles, and the U.S.A. Ambulance Service Base
Camp at Ferrieres.

Paul A. Redmond *

* Of Syracuse, New York. U.S.A. Ambulance Service during the war.

Section Twenty-JSCine

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. John Tempest Walker, Jr.
II , Richard O. Battles

SUMMARY

Section Twenty-Nine left Paris on June 30, 191 7, and going
by Chalons and Bar-le-Duc, reached Conde-en-Barrois on
July 2. On July 23 it went to Ville-sur-Cousances (Meuse)
and served the postes of Esnes, Dombasle, and Bois de B6the-
lainville. It evacuated to the hospitals of Brocourt and Fleury-
sur-Aire. On August 22 it left Ville-sur-Cousances for repos
Sit Menil-la-Horgne. On September 2 it went to Saint-Mihiel,
serving postes at Belle-Vallee, Marcaulieu, Village Negre, Pierre-
fitte, and Villotte. On October 17 it went en repos at Silmont-
en-Barrois, and on October 26 it moved to a cantonment at
Belrupt, Chaume Woods, and served at Carriere d'Haudro-
mont, near Verdun, It was at this time that the Service was
militarized and the cars of Section Twenty-Nine were taken
over by members of old Section Seventy-One to be known
thereafter as Section Six-Forty-One of the U.S.A: Ambulance
Service.

Section Tiventy-J^ine

Again, again they come with shell and steel
To storm thee, and to crush thy ramparts down,
And trample over France with iron heel,
Burning and devastating field and town.
Yet, day by day, we see thy grim forts stand.
All hail, Verdun, defender of the land!

William C. Sanger, Jr.

Paris to Verdun

On the morning of June 30, 19 17, Section Twenty-Nine
rolled out of the lower gate of 21 rue Raynouard to be-
gin its comparatively short but withal interesting career.
We got out of Paris without mishap, although the move-
ments and order of our convoy were not in every particu-
lar exactly according to Hoyle, and at noon all reached
Meaux, where we stopped for a cold lunch of "monkey-
meat" and bread. We arrived at Montmirail shortly be-
fore dark and, after another cold meal, set up our beds
on the second floor of an abandoned school building.
Chalons was our next official stop where we paused for
lunch and essence, and then drove on to Bar-le-Duc, where
we drew up about 7 p.m., placed our cars outside the au-
tomobile pare, and with the customary "monkey meat"

323

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

and bread for dinner, took our beds into one of the bar-
racks and bunked for the night. Next morning, July 2,
we drove to Conde, where we found very comfortable
quarters in a wooden barrack, formerly a hospital ward,
located on the top of a high hill, above the town, over-
looking in all directions miles of beautiful rolling farm
lands.

On the morning of July 3, the General of our Division
paid us the honor of a visit and reviewed us, and the next
night we celebrated the Glorious Fourth in real style. Our
cook outdid himself in producing a bountiful repast of
many courses which the Colonel of our Service de Sante
shared with us as our principal guest. After many songs,
toasts, and speeches, the party broke up after the singing
of the ''Marseillaise'' and the "Star-Spangled Banner"
and shouting the customary ''Vive la France!'* "Vive
rAmeriqice!" July 14, the French national holiday, fur-
nished a good excuse for a similar party, which possibly
surpassed, as regards the menu, post-prandial oratory, and
patriotic enthusiasm, the one given on the Fourth.

On the morning of July 23, we packed up and left Conde
on short notice, and about noon reached Vllle-sur-Cou-
sances, where we relieved Section Two, taking over their
cantonment and their posies. Our front paste de secours
was at Esnes, with a relay paste at Montzeville. We had a
call paste at Dombasle, kept one car always on duty at a
paste in the Bois de Bethelainville, and evacuated to Bro-
court. On the night of the 23d four cars began the work,
and from then on we had plenty to keep us busy, for the
sector was not a quiet one.

Newlin killed — Allen wounded

All went well until the night of August 3, when a *'77^*
fell only a few feet from the entrance to our abri at Mont-
zeville, a piece of eclat striking Julian Allen in the knee
and wounding him painfully, though not seriously, while
another piece hit Newlin^ in the back, hurting him dan-

} John Verplanck Newlin, of Whitford, Pennsylvania; Princeton, '19; joined

SECTION TWENTY-NINE

gerously. Newlin's and Ball's cars were smashed almost
beyond recognition, and Martin and Hughes narrowly
escaped being hurt. Allen and Newlin were rushed to the
hospital at Ville-sur-Cousances and from there taken to
the hospital at Fleury. The wound of the former, though
more serious than we thought at first, proved to be not
dangerous. At noon on August 5 he was evacuated to
Paris. But Newlin's condition was critical. He was so
weak that he could not be operated upon until the eve-
ning of the 4th. The operation was apparently successful
and he showed signs of such great improvement that the
French Commander of the Section, Lieutenant Latruffe,
with four of the fellows, called on him on the afternoon of
August 5 to present him with his Croix de Guerre and the
Division citation. But at midnight we received word from
the hospital that poor Jack was dead. It was a great shock
to all of us, for he was a wonderfully brave and nervy lad
and we had all grown very fond of him.

It was a blow to the Section to lose our Chef, Allen,
and one of our men, after such a short time out at the
front, and we had to go on as best we could without any
authorized leader, though Paxton and Walker, who had
been left in charge, succeeded, by dividing the work and
the responsibility, in bringing us creditably through a
long spell of hard, gruelling work. Later, on September
10, Fletcher, from Section Fourteen, came over to take
Allen's place as Chef until the latter returned from the
hospital.

Verdun to Saint-Mihiel

On August 21 we were relieved by a French ambulance
section, and although we had seen enough of Esnes and
Montzeville, we were sorry that we could not stay for the
big attack which was imminent. We packed up our be-
longings and that afternoon moved, via Bar-le-Duc, to
Menil-la-Horgne where we were en repos until Septem-

the Field Service in May, 1917; served with Section Twenty-Nine; died of
wounds, received while on duty at Montzeville, on August 5, 191 7-

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

ber 2, when we followed our Division to the Saint-Mihiel
sector and made our headquarters at Rupt. After work-
ing near Hill 304 and Mort Homme, our new pastes, at
Belle Vallee, Marcaulieu, Village Negre, Pierrefitte, and
Villotte, seemed very tame.

At Rupt we had at our disposal only the cold, damp
semi-cellars and draughty, leaky hay-lofts that the town
boasted; so on September 20 we moved to Villotte, six
kilometres from Rupt, with the expectation of finding
better living quarters. But we had no luck, for we were
ushered into a big hay-loft which, had It not been for the
numerous and large holes in the roof, would have been
very meagrely ventilated and lighted, as it had but two
miniature windows. It rained hard the first night, and by
morning our hoped-for apartement de luxe resembled a
huge shower bath.

During all these long monotonous days and the longer
and more monotonous evenings, the chief topic of con-
versation was the impending arrival of the U.S. recruiting
officers and what the future status of the Ambulance
Service would be. They finally arrived on September 29,
but found rather slim picking In Section Twenty-Nine,
for Ball, Ailing, Smith, and Walker were the only men
who signed up with the U.S. Army for the duration of the
war.

Fletcher went to Paris on October i for forty-eight
hours' permission, and almost as soon as he had stepped
out of the train a taxicab knocked him down. He was
taken in an ambulance to the hospital at Neuilly, where
he was found to be so badly shaken up that he was unable
to return to the Section, whereupon we all decided that
the easiest and quickest way to get to a hospital was to be
appointed Chef of Section Twenty- Nine.

On October 17 the glad tidings reached us that we were
to be relieved by a French section, and the next day,
shortly after noon, we were on our way, splashing and
rattling through mud and rain, to Silmont for a short
repos. Our new cantonment was much better than any we

326

M
Ed

SECTION TWENTY-NINE

had seen for a long time, and we were near enough to
Bar-le-Duc to be able to run in there for the day. So things
in general began to take on a more rosy aspect.

General Mordac visited Silmont on October 22 in order
to inspect the 38th Regiment of our Division — the 120th.
We were reviewed at the same time and were highly
praised by the General for our work at Esnes and Montze-
ville during the month of August.

Work at Verdun again — Section Seventy-One

On October 26 we moved to Belrupt, near Verdun, and
at once jumped into hard, active work. Our poste was at
Haudromont, not far from Hill 344 and the Chaume
Woods, and we evacuated to Bevaux, just outside the
walls of Verdun. The roads were very rough and muddy,
winding up and down steep hills and around sharp cor-
ners, thus making driving very difficult and hazardous.
The shelling during the day was very light, but at night
the Boches kept up an almost incessant fire while the
artillery and ravitaillement were being brought up. On
account of the heavy traffic on the roads and because of
the prevalence of gas, the ambulances were not allowed to
run at night; so all our work was done between the hours
of 6 A.M. and 5 p. m.

Section Seventy-One arrived on the morning of Novem-
ber 3, to take over our cars, and the next morning ten cars
went up to the poste, each taking one of the new men in
order to show him the road. When we reached Haudro-
mont, several big shells came in uncomfortably close to us,
which was the first time we had seen any such activity in
this vicinity ; and it was hardly a cordial welcome for Sev-
enty-One. In the midst of it all, the Section Twenty-Nine
men piled into two ambulances and drove back to Belrupt,
where it took us only a short time to pack up our belong-
ings, so that by ten-thirty the big camion was ready to
leave. We pulled into the automobile park at "Bar"
about three-thirty and were imprisoned until dinner time,
when, only by dint of heavy persuading and a few ^'non

^27

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

comprends," we got permission to go out to the meal.
We spent the night — that is, what there was of it — in
one of the park barracks, most of us sleeping in true-to-
form poilu straw and chicken-wire bunks, and at 3 a.m.
turned out to catch our train for Paris, where we arrived
shortly after noon, and, except for a big farewell banquet
at the cafe La Perouse on the evening of November 6,
old Section Twenty-Nine had no more entries to make
in its diary.

John Tempest Walker, Jr.^

* Of Brookline, Massachusetts; Brown, '13; served with Section Twenty-
Nine of the Field Service and subsequently in the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service with the French Army.

Summary of the Section's History under
THE United States Army

On November 3 Section Seventy-One arrived at Belrupt late in
the afternoon to take over the cars of Section Twenty-Nine. The
sector proved anything but quiet. During six weeks there we lost
five cars at the abri, and Way Spauldingwas severely wounded.
Here the Section became officially renumbered Six-Forty-One.

On December 16 we convoyed to Andernay for repos. On
December 27 the Section moved to Clermont-en-Argonne,
where our Division went into line between Vauquois and the
extreme left of the Bois d'Avocourt. Our hardest work in the
Argonne came on the i6th of March, 1918, when one of our
regiments went over in a grand coup de main, taking about
one hundred prisoners and advancing as far as the German
light artillery positions.

Later we were ordered to Rarecourt. We continued, how-
ever, to work the sarrie pastes as before. On May 16 we left
the sector, going to Epense for a short repos. It was here
that we became detached from the 120th Division, which was
to move a long distance. We were not long detached, however,
for after one day we were sent to Rambluzin and attached to
the 17th Division, which was then in line at Saint-Mihiel.
During the latter part of July, after a short repos at Vavin-
court, the Division was ordered into the Tenth Army, and we
followed in convoy. We were stationed at Vierzy, southwest
of Soissons, and worked a poste from Ambrief, The work con-
tinued, and we followed up the German retreat. Evacuations
were made to Villers-Cotterets — a four hours' round trip.
On August II we were moved back to R6theuil, near Pierre-
fonds, for a week's repos. On August 19 we left Retheuil for
Cuise-Lamotte, from which place we expected to work pastes.
But the Boches were retreating so fast that, at two in the morn-
ing on August 20, we were routed out from under haystacks,
cars, etc., to roll on up the Soissons-Compi^gne highway, amid
the heavy cannon thundering on every side, to cross the Aisne
and pass through Attichy to the "farm" in question, where
we waited until 2 p.m., when we proceeded. When we stopped
our cars at the ordered point, we found ourselves — cars,
kitchen, and conducteurs — at a reserve-line poste de secours,

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which, as a matter of fact, was still being used as Section Two's
front poste! The battle was continuing, with the guns firing
behind us, and now and then a battalion advancing in de-
ployed order. A Moroccan officer stepped up to us and said,
"What in hell are you young fools doing up here in convoy?
Don't you know that a half-hour ago this was on the front,
and a very unhealthy spot?" The smoke of a Boche barrage
had hardly yet cleared away, and the occasional shells that
fell in a field close by made us believe him unquestioningly.
Prisoners were constantly filing back from the front. This spot
was a few kilometers east of the famous village of Moulin-sous-
Touvent, where such heavy fighting took place. But despite
the warnings we were forced to stay here for two hours until
new orders came sending us to a new and healthier destination.
Our new destination was Sacy, where we spent one night,
moving early the next morning to the outskirts of Vic-sur-
Aisne.

About dark on August 21 we moved still farther up, this
time to a point on the road about one kilometre from Morsain.
We parked in a field, only to be driven out by a French artil-
lery officer, who said he was going to use that position for his
battery of " 105's." It was the guerre de mouvement with a
vengeance. Our Division went into line here, and we imme-
diately received a call for all available cars. We worked here
for seventy-two consecutive hours, the pastes being Vassens,
Bonnemaison, Saint-Liger, and La Croix Blanche. The work
continued more or less steadily for two weeks, until Coucy-
le-Chateau was reached, twenty-three kilometres from Vic.
Fearing was wounded painfully, but not seriously, at paste
on the 26th. For our work on the 23d and 24th of August we
received a sectional citation.

On the loth of September we again moved up, this time to
Vezaponin, and worked from there a relay poste aX Vezaponin,
and advanced pastes at Leuilly and Blanc Pierre. The work
was heavy and disagreeable, as it had been for the past two
weeks, so it was with great relief and pleasure that we were
sent back en repos on September 19. Repas took us clear back
to Dammartin.

About the loth of October we again moved to the front,
this time to Acy, en reserve, with only the usual car or so on
duty with the G.JB.D. After a short time we moved farther up,
going to Jouy, on the other side of the Aisne, where we spent
ten days, living alongside the road and sleeping in our cars.

On October 24 we moved still farther on, going to Bucy-
les-Cerny, a short distance outside of Laon. From here the

330

SECTION TWENTY-NINE

Section started working the postes of Verneuil and Maison
Blanche. The work here was very active and unpleasant. It
was at Verneuil that Way Spaulding received his second
wound, a small piece of eclat piercing his hand. Swasey was also
wounded these last few days of action, receiving a shell frag-
ment through the calf of his leg. This was the beginning of the
end. The Germans were holding on along the Serre River, but
on November 4 the retreat started and we again commenced
the tiresome following up.

The cars on duty had gone on with the G.B.D. and hran-
cardien, and no one knew where they were. How we ever
moved over roads full of mine craters and with the flimsiest
improvised bridges over the streams, no one will ever know.
We did n't ourselves, but somehow we got there. We stopped
at Marie eight hours after the victorious French infantry had
taken it, and on seeing Americans for the first time the inhab-
itants, four years in German servitude, went wild. They were
wretched specim.ens — shadows of their former selves.

No one knew exactly where the Germans were. W^e could
hear no guns, and the only news we could obtain was from the
French civilians who had run back from their homes when the
lines had passed eastward. Here for the first time in long months
carelessness was shown as to lights. In two days we moved to
Harcigny, near Vervins, not far from Hirson on the Belgian
border. This was a move of thirty kilometres, and still there
seemed to be no trace of the retreating Germans. Here we
camped and lived with fires and lights as if we were a thousand
miles from shells and bombing-planes. We started to work
our postes from here, but the evacuations were 120 kilometres
to the hospital and back, over terrible roads. Rumors of an
armistice had floated about, but every one had taken them
with the usual grain of salt. However, on the morning of No-
vember II a lieutenant from the French Staff stuck his head
in -the door of our shack at six in the morning and offtcially
announced that the Armistice had been signed and hostilities
would cease at eleven. There was not a sound except the mov-
ing of huddled forms under their blankets. . . . Finally some one
said, "Is this a jam morning, or do we get only bread?" . . .
Everything went on as before. Nothing seemed changed. What
was it? Were we all too stunned by the news to feel any real
emotion, or had we become immune to such things?

We stayed in Harcigny until November 13, and then
started our long convoy back into France, and on again into
the armies of occupation. On the 12th, fifteen of us (the rest
were still on duty taking care of their last blesses de la guerre)

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lined up as a guard of honor to our Divisional General, and
watched our three French regiments, the 90th, the 355th, and
68th, march back from the lines — their work completed for-
ever. It was a moving sight. They filed by, dirty, lousy, with
weeks' growth of beard, tired and weary to the point of ex-
haustion — but never again to return to the hell of the trenches
or the roaring, upturned fields of battle ... the fellows in blue
with whom we had worked to the end, comrades every one.
Every man's heart was with them, as they filed by, and always
will be as long as the memory of that day remains.

Richard O. Battles ^

* Of Boston, Massachusetts; served In Section Seventy-One of the Field
Service and in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service during the war.

Section Sixty-Six

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Stanley B. Jones
II. William Gorham Rice, Jr.

III. Perley R. Hamilton

IV. Walter D. Carr

SUMMARY

Section Sixty-Six began, after a period at May-en-Multien,
at Cramaille. It moved on July 4 to Glennes, with Beaurieux
as field headquarters, and worked the pastes at the Moulin
Rouge, Oulches, Flandres, and Village Negre, and evacuated to
Saint-Gilles, and Meurival. Then followed a repos near Chateau-
Thierry, and moves to Nesle and Villoma in that neighborhood.
On August 23 it moved north of the Aisne to Cuiry-les-Chau-
dardes, working pastes at Monaco, Aurousseau, and Craonnelle,
just under the Chemin des Dames. It was enlisted during
September, 1917, in the U.S. Army Ambulance Service and
subsequently became Section Six-Twenty-Three.

lfe$:'

Section Sixty-Six

There 's a strip of the Earth
That 's of infinite worth,

Though a craterous, sterile space;
Its border 's a trench
And the ground of it's French,

But it 's leased by the human race.

John Finley

The Beginnings of Section Sixty-Six

At rue Raynouard, a group of Dartmouth College men
reported on June 13, 191 7, and after remaining seven
days were sent to the familiar old mill at May-en-Multien,
where they received the addition of several other ambu-
lance drivers and S.S.U. Sixty-Six became a reality. This
was one of the Field Service sections, which, because of
the shortage of Fords, was assigned to French ambulances.
After a brief training at May they were therefore sent to
the French automobile pare at Cramaille to get their cars.

The next day we met our Chef, William G. Rice, Jr.,
who had served as a driver in Section One during the
earlier days of the war. We also met Lieutenant Fries,
our French Lieutenant, and several of the French sous-
officiers, who were to be our allied companions during the
months that were to follow.

It was at Cramaille that Sections Sixty-Seven and
Sixty-Eight, haughty in new Fiats of uniform color and

335

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age, passed us while we sat gloomily surveying our mossy
and doddering collection of Panhards. The departing
Gallic chauffeurs boasted that the cars had not been
touched in two years, and it was not long ere we believed
them. "Danger" and "Innocent," les bons mecaniciens,
looked over the heirlooms and asked for a release, which
was refused, fortunately. After a day or two spent in tying
the motors together with twine and wire, we clanked off
to the aviation field at Sapony like the Anvil Chorus on
parade, where we fell upon a fallen aeroplane like In-
dians, slicing off souvenirs in true American fashion. In
the midst of all this, Halladay and HeyAvood excited the
envy of the Section when they clattered off, tin hats
and all, to carry Sixty-Six's first blesses.

Finally, after a Fourth-of-July banquet, we received
orders to move. We packed up and rolled back north,
knowing that at last we were to get into action. All day
we skidded in the rain, and at last straggled somehow into
the muddy courtyard at Glennes, with its tired poilus,
stamping horses, and steaming manure-pile to bid us
welcome.

Getting to Work

Work was soon going smoothly, with Beaurieux as
field headquarters. We ran to the pastes at Moulin
Rouge, ruined Oulches, Flandres, and Village Negre, the
latter a bare post on a hill exposed to fire, with the valley
at its base pitted with French batteries to draw almost
continual shelling from the Boches — a mauvais coin,
fitted with an old and worn-out set of brancardiers.

Our second night in Glennes was signalized by a visit
from Boche aviators. Searchlights combed the heavens
incessantly, staring vainly for a sight of the invader whose
humming motors we heard, punctuated by the metallic
tac-tac-tac of the French mitrailleuses. The crashing be-
came louder, and we huddled under the blankets.

For some days, in addition to the paste duty, we worked
at the tiresome job of evacuating from the hospital at

336

SECTION SIXTY-SIX

Beaurieux, standing day and night in line, awaiting the
chance to drive a blesse to Saint-Gilles or Meurival and
stop at Fismes for bread and butter on the way back.

Gailey and Hamilton killed

It was during the last week or so of July that Sixty-Six
went through its first ordeal. We all know how it went,
and we look back with pride on the part we played dur-
ing that tense week so full of action and danger and of
everything else save regular meals and sleep and com-
forts. We all know the climax — the price that Gailey
and Hamilton paid, killed at their post of duty; and
certainly the honor given them by General Niessel at
the military funeral will never be forgotten by any mem-
ber of Sixty-Six. It was the war brought home to us as
close as it ever could be.

At last the welcome repos came, and off we started for
Chateau-Thierry, where we arrived in a most unmilitary
manner, tearing up and down streets in search of a can-
tonment. At length we were installed in a loft, and the
next day saw us all washed, both ourselves and our cars,
and exploring the town. But after a most pleasant week
there, we had to pull up stakes. We travelled all morning,
and the afternoon saw us encamped on the bald top of a
hill swept by wind and rain and blistered by the curses
heaped upon it. Next morning we splashed down to one
of our most pleasant places, the farm of Nesles. Ah! those
plums!

True to army custom, just as we were more or less
comfortably settled, it was discovered that we were over
a line, or under one, or, anyway, where we should not be.
So up we packed and tore over to the wallow of Villome
with its knee-deep mud. But we were happily disap-
pointed in Villome; each one found some redeeming fea-
ture there.

It was near Nesle on August 19, 191 7, that S.S.U.
Sixty-Six lost its old Division and was attached to the
46th Division of Chasseurs of the Tenth Army. We will

337

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long remember the inspiring review of the troops on the
plateau of Dravegny just before the Division went into
the lines. How fortunate the Section was to be connected
with such a Division!

On August 23 we packed up and headed back, through
heavy dust, to north of the Aisne, where we lived near
the village of Cuiry-les-Chaudardes, which boasted only
one civilian, a man eighty years old. We immediately
plunged into the Aisne, for a bath is doubly sacred in the
war zone, and we took up our quarters on the river-bank,
living in ahris and a mule shed. We worked under a forty-
eight-hour system here, at the pastes of Monaco, Au-
rousseau, and Craonnelle — just under the Chemin des
Dames. Brown and Miles had their second car blown to
pieces at the last-named poste, thus establishing a record,
having driven two out of the three cars we had smashed
by shell-fire.

And when, in the early autumn of 1917, the American
Field Service was taken over by the United States Army
and the old Section was split up, we had been together
for three months of work and play, living under condi-
tions which best show up what is inside of every one of
us. W^e had had our high times and our low times to-
gether, and had joked over most of them ; but the spirit
which animated us was, in the main, well expressed by
Condell, who, speaking of our purpose in France, re-
marked: "We did not come for money or for fun; we
came as volunteers, to do what good we could."

Stanley B. Jones ^

1 Of Brooklyn, New York; Dartmouth, 'i8; in the Field Service with
Section Sixty-Six; later a Second Lieutenant, U.S. Aviation.

Gailey and Hamilton

Just one month from that 29th of June when most of the
Section came from the "mill" to the automobile park
and first looked on their ambulances and their French
comrades, James Wilson Gailey and Perley Raymond
Hamilton were killed as they were loading their car with
wounded at the poste de secours at Village Negre, a mili-
tary settlement on an exposed hillside near the shell-
ruined village of Vassogne, Aisne.

We had been in this sector of the Chemin des Dames
three weeks when the tragedy occurred, working over
abominable roads with unreliable cars, and from the 25th
of July under heavy fire. That night of the 25th, the worst
that our Division had yet encountered, we had our first
casualty. While driving along a very dark road through
gas, Durbin Rowland was changed in an instant from a
driver to a blesse. His injury was so serious that he was
not able to return to military service. That night every
man in the Section did splendid work at a time when few
but they were travelling those shell-torn roads, so shell-
torn that we had to drive along railway tracks and foot-
paths to get past the craters that completely blocked the
regular way in several places. The next five days were
both busy and terrible. On the morning of the 29th came
the death of Gailey and Hamilton, as they were doing
their duty with the care, coolness, and the dependability
that had distinguished the conduct of every driver during
those hours of trial.

These two boys had just loaded their car and were on
the point of getting aboard when the fatal "105" fell a
few feet from them and wrecked them and their car. A
brancardier was killed too, and two were wounded, as
well as the blesses in the car, Hamilton died instantly,

339

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Gailey In a few minutes in the care of the priest of the
poste whom we all had long admired.

The following day we honored their memory as best
we could when we buried their bodies in the military
cemetery at Beaurieux, where row after row of French
soldiers' graves preceded theirs and row after row have
since been added. The ceremony was deeply impressive.
Members of the Section bore the two coffins and laid
them beside the open grave- trench, covered them with
the French and the American flags, and surrounded them
with flowers they had picked. In the presence of General
Niessel of the Army Corps, General Lancrenon of our
Division, Mr. Andrew the head of the Field Service, and
many other officers and men, the Chaplain conducted
the burial service, while the bang and burst of artilleiy
were blended and contrasted with his words.

General Niessel, commander of the 9th Corps of the
French Army, which was at that moment actively en-
gaged In the line, came directly down from the trenches
of the Chemin des Dames to honor our dead and the
Field Service by his presence and by paying personal
tribute to their sacrifice. The guns in the neighboring
hills thundered as if in tribute, while the General said in
French :

Gentlemen —

For myself and on behalf of the 9th Army Corps and of the
armies of France, I offer my grateful remembrance to your
brave comrades.

James Wilson Galley and Perley Raymond Hamilton were
students, under no obligation whatever to leave their homes,
to join our Army, and to go into danger. But as soon as your
United States understood that the enemies of humanity could
be subdued and confounded only by strength of arms, with-
out waiting the coming of your American Forces, they offered
to my country, as you all did, gentlemen, their youth, their
heart, their blood.

In these last hard days of fighting the soldiers of France have
seen you, each one, going to your perilous duty, always laugh-
ing, lively, gay — as you would enter a game. After three years
of fighting our troops know how to gauge true courage, and

340

SECTION SIXTY-SIX

they — all of them — say that you are, as I know you to be,
brave men.

The glorious death of your two friends justifies that compli-
ment and that trust. France cannot repay her debt to them,
nor can I, but we can express gratitude and salute their mem-
ory in offering these Croix de Guerre to the two brave men who
fell on the field of battle far from their cherished homeland :

General Order 243.

The General, commanding the 9th Army Corps, mentions
in the order of the day the following soldiers :

Perley Raymond Hamilton, volunteer American driver of
Section Sixty-Six.

An excellent driver, devoted and courageous, was killed in
the accomplishment of his duty, while loading his car with
wounded at the poste de secours of Vassogne on the 29th of
July, 191 7, at five o'clock in the morning.

James Wilson Gailey, volunteer American driver of Section
Sixty-Six.

During the night of July 25-26, 191 7, while evacuating six
severely wounded men, found himself blocked in Vassogne by
a fallen building and numerous shell-holes. Although the road
was being heavily shelled and in spite of the thick gas, he ran
to the neighboring poste and brought a reserve car into which
he transferred his wounded, then evacuated them to the hos-
pital. He was killed the 29th of July, 1917, by a shell which
fell squarely upon his ambulance filled with wounded.

Hamilton and Gailey, in the name of the officers and soldiers
of the 9th Army Corps, your brothers in arms, I bid you a
heartfelt Adieu!

General Niessel then laid the Croix de Guerre upon the
two coffins and pinned it on the persons of three other
members of the Section. As -ve went back to our cars
and our pastes, where our places had been generously taken
for the moment by another section, every man's sorrow
was mixed with pride that he was carrying on their work
and with joy to have been their companions, though for
so short a time, in the Great Undertaking.

William Gorham Rice, Jr.^

1 Of Albany, New York; Harvard, B.A. 1914; M.A. 1915; served with
Section One of the Field Service from July, 1916, to January, 1917, and
with Section Sixty-Six from May, 1917; remained as a First Lieutenant,
U.S.A. Ambulance Service during the war.

Ill

Last Entries from Hamilton's Diary

July 9

Bombarded again last night by aeroplanes and as yet

have n't heard the casualty list. Eight of our men go to

the lines this morning for wounded. One ambulance man

from another section was killed last night by shell hitting

his car. Also six of the wounded he was carrying were

killed. Eight men left this afternoon instead of morning,

and as my car is out of commission, it had to stay here

for repairs. I went over on another ambulance to see the

various pastes and the trip proved very exciting. Shells

were bursting everywhere about us, and, except when we

were driving, we had orders to stay in the dugouts. We

were initiated rather strenuously. The roads up the hills

and within the lines were awful. The tovv^ns about were

masses of ruins and the hills were treeless. Shell-holes

everywhere. To-night from the village we saw an attack

all along the line.

July 1 6

Last night quiet and cloudy. Ride over to Beaurieux
uninteresting. Spent the night there. Evening walk to an
observation post over the third-line trenches gave us
a great view of the fighting between trenches of both
armies. Awaited call all night to one of the pastes de se-
cours, but we were n't called. Quiet night at the front here.

July 19
Spent the night at Glennes and the attacks along the
front were furious. Word came in this morning to rush all
available cars to the front. Attack lasted all morning. We
can't go until our engine is put in order. Mechanics are
working as fast as possible with it. Enemy stormed our
sector and took three trenches. Heavy casualties on both
sides. This afternoon the French counter-attacked and
took the three lines and the first line of the enemy in addi-

342

■A
-1

<
H

fa
O

S'.

SECTION SIXTY-SIX

tion. Very severe fighting to-night. Large quantities of
reinforcements were brought up to-night. It 's a French
attack, but have not heard results yet. Our ambulances
have been working steadily for thirty-six hours, and the
men are about all in.

July 20
Last night was terrible on our men. We are still running
after two days without sleep and the prospect is still slight
for any relief. Many of our cars have broken down under
the strain and that adds to the work. I have relieved
Ralph Stoeltzing. Demorest and I are together. Ralph
is all in and sick. We will take poste duty to-night. Plenty
of rain and lots of work on awful roads.

July 21
Last night we were busy as expected and got in at eight-
thirty this morning from evacuation work. Ralph is bet-
ter to-day and will relieve Demorest. I have been on the
road all day and shall be busy right on through the night.
Much fighting in our sector now. It promises to be one
of the great battles of the war. It will undoubtedly be
called the battle of the Chemin des Dames. Late to-night
we are still on the jump.

July 22

Ran all night and have had only a few moments now and
then for a nap. Am extremely tired and worn out. The
fighting has been intense. The enemy has gained a footing
near us and his best army is massed to do the job. We
carried three enemy blesses who were overcome by their
own gas attack. They wore the Imperial Guard uniform.
Fighting continued all day with successive furious at-
tacks, and all indications point to another night without
that much-needed rest.

July 23

Again we ran all night and carried terribly messed-up
blesses. They say the fighting here to-day down at the first

343

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

line and back through our sector is worse than the famous
Verdun battle. The Colonial divisions are being brought
up to throw against the enemy. I am absolutely all in, but
still on duty and at this writing am next car out. Got
mixed up in an aerial raid last night and one bomb came
close enough to shower me with earth. Hope I m.ay be
relieved before morning.

July 24
Worked all last night and this morning. Big attack at
early hours this morning and French gained two miles of
territory. Six hundred wounded were carried by our am-
bulances. Enemy desperately trying to break our lines
here. Attacks are growing in intensity every day in this
Craonnelle sector. Every night the French have been
sending up big guns and regiment after regiment of fresh
troops. Casualties are extremely heavy. I have just been
relieved and am ready for a good long sleep. The work
has been strenuous. Colored troops have just passed on
to the first line which surely means a fierce attack.

July 25
Had a great old rest last night, but feel a little off color
to-day. Have been told to rest up for two more days. No
aerial raids last night and that helped a lot toward such a
sound sleep. Ralph and I slept at telephone post and fig-
ured in on night duty there. Ralph was able conveniently
to handle all calls. Hot as the dickens to-day. Last night
cold and damp. Starting at six-thirty to-night, a tremen-
dous artillery duel is on. Seems to be heavier than I have
ever heard before. Many clouds in the sky to-night, so
there '11 be no aerial raid.

July 26
One of the fiercest attacks of the enemy yielded three
hundred yards of trenches last night. The officials say it
was one of the worst battles of the war. More artillery
than at Verdun. The Crown Prince is attacking our sec-
tor and is sacrificing thousands upon thousands of men to

344

SECTION SIXTY-SIX

gain a hill within half a mile of our poste de secours. One of
our fellows was wounded last night and many are ill from
shock. Gill's car was found in the middle of the road
with the motor running, but nothing has been heard of
him for twelve hours. His driving companion is in the
hospital recovering from shock and can't give any infor-
mation yet, for his mind is cloudy. Great concern is felt
among us for Gill.

July 27

Several rriissing men have all been found and the Sec-
tion is again intact. The fighting to-day is very intense,
and we have taken back most of the territory lost yester-
day. Last night was a very active one, but not so danger-
ous as the evening before. To-day I am on poste duty and
have been sent to the Moulin Rouge where the artil-
lery is active this afternoon. Later, went to Flandres and
stayed there several hours. The enemy shelled our poste
continuously, and at night under cover of darkness we
left for Beaurieux with wounded. Spent the evening at
Beaurieux.

July 28

Last night we slept at Beaurieux. The moon was clear and
the aviators were busy over our heads, last night being
the first night since arriving here that I have slept in an
ahri. The bombardment continues heavily along our front
and we have held consistently. To-night I am on duty at
the various posies. Many wounded nowadays.

Perley R. Hamilton ^

' Of Clinton, Massachusetts; served in Section Sixty-Six of the Field
Service from the time of its formation. These extracts are taken from his
personal diary. A few hours after this entry, during the night of the 28th,
the writer was killed by a shell while on duty at the advanced poste.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

On September 9, 191 7, S.S.U. Sixty-Six lost its Field Service
identity, and became Section Six-Twenty-Three of the U.S.A.
Ambulance Service. Many men left the Section, but there
remained some fifteen to perpetuate its life as it was in the
old days when it took up its work on the Chemin des
Dames.

The Section was at this time on active service in the Craonne
Sector with the 46th Division of Chasseurs. On September 22
it moved to Tannieres en repos, and then to Port-a-Binson,
where it left its old "Panhards" at the automobile park and
entrained for Paris to take over the new Fords. Within the
next three weeks the Section was again at work in its old
Craonne sector, with its admirable new equipment.

Section Six-Twenty-Three was now working with the 6ist
French Division, and after spending several weeks at Cuiry-
les-Chaudardes it moved to Vailly, where it took over the posts
of Aizy, Jouy, Allemant, and Montparnasse. Repos at Rozieres,
in which the hardships and rigors of winter were felt perhaps
more keenly than at any other time of the Section's existence,
was followed by the comforts of Soissons which will always
be remembered as the best of cantonments. From January 7,
1918, until June 3 the Section evacuated the pastes of Crouy
and Laffaux, and it was during that period that Lieutenant
J. G. B. Campbell was placed in command to take the place of
our former Chef and Lieutenant, William G. Rice, Jr. On May
27 the great German offensive was launched and for the next
five days the Section was put to a most severe test. It worked
its posies until Soissons was evacuated, and continued with its
Division during the entire retreat. Each day the Section re-
treated as the Germans advanced and followed a route through
the towns of Breuil, Saint-Bandry, Coeuvres, Longavesne,
Pierrefonds, Taillefontaine, and Vez. At this last station active
duty was resumed when the Division went into action at
Villers-Cotterets. In recognition of the work done during these
trying days the Section received its first citation to the Corps
d'Armee.

From Villers-Cotterets the 6ist Division was sent to the
Lorraine sector. It was a beautiful trip from Vez to Baccarat,

346

SECTION SIXTY-SIX

the Section passing through Meaux, Coulommiers, Troyes,
Chaumont, Jussey, and Epinal, and finally reaching its desti-
nation in late June, 191 8.

At Baccarat the work was exceedingly light and the Section
found some difficulty in adjusting itself to this tedious after-
math of its hard work. The months of July and August were
spent in this quiet sector, with the towns of Saint-Clement,
Badonvillers, Luneville, and Nancy as theatres of the Section's
activities.

In September, 191 8, the Section began its long trip from
Baccarat back to the active front. Rumors of a great Allied
offensive in the Champagne had convinced us that the Section
would soon see service in that sector. On September 21 it ar-
rived at Cuperly, northeast of Chalons. The morning of the
attack was announced by the rumble of the Allied artillery,
and from that time the Section was involved in one of the
greatest Allied offensives of the war. As the Germans retreated
the Section advanced with the 6ist French Division through
the towns of Suippes, Souain, Somme-Py, Pauvres, Vouziers,
Attigny, Amangne, Poix-Terron, and entered Mezieres with
the French on the night of November 10, 191 8. An enthusiastic
welcome was accorded us; flags of the Allied nations were
everywhere in evidence, and triumphal arches welcomed the
French back to a city which during four years had experi-
enced the hardships of German occupation.

On the night of November 10, 191 8, the hospital of Mezieres
was bombarded by the enemy, and here the Section received its
second citation for evacuating the wounded from the hospital
under fire.

On November 11 the welcome news of the signing of the
Armistice was received with great enthusiasm and celebra-
tion and the Section learned that it was to proceed with its
Division to the bridgehead of Mayence, Germany.

During the third week of November, 191 8, the Section
moved by stages along the route of Flize, Sedan, Sachy, Floren-
ville, Rulles, and Arlon, passing through the southern corner
of Belgium and arriving in the fourth week of November at
Wiltz, Luxembourg.

But at this point orders were received that the 6ist Division
was not to proceed to Germany, but was soon to be demobilized.
In March, 191 9, we were separated from our French comrades-
in-arms and it was not without a keen sense of regret and sad-
ness that we said good-bye to those men with whom we had
been associated for so many months during quiet and exceed-
ingly strenuous circumstances. Then came our trip back into

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

France and to the Ambulance Base Camp, where we paused
before starting for the States.

Walter D. Carr ^

^ Of Wellesley Hills, Massachusetts; Dartmouth; served in Section
Sixty-Six of the Field Service from July, 1917; later a Sergeant first-class,
and then a Second Lieutenant in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Section Sixty-Seven

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Kenneth M. Reed
II. Norman C. Nourse

SUMMARY

The Section left Paris for May-en-Multien on June 19, 1917.
On June 29 it left the training-camp, and took over its cars at
Cramaille. It then went to Armentieres, where, on July 6, an
order came to join the 154th Division near Craonne. After
two days on the road, with an overnight stop at Chatillon-
sur-Marne, it arrived at Glennes, where it commenced work
evacuating to base hospitals in the rear, with service at Beau-
rieux, Cuiry, Meurival, Fismes, and Romain, Saint-Gilles, and
Courlandon. On July 18 it proceeded back from the lines, and
on July 29 arrived at Chelles en repos. On August 13 it left for
the Aisne front, going by Betz, Villers-Cotterets and Ressons-
le-Long. On August 22 it was stationed at Villa Albert, in
Soissons, with pastes at Boulloy, Pont Rouge, Neuville, and
Montgarni, with reserve pastes at Chivres, Perrier, and Cla-
mecy. It was enlisted in the U.S. Army on September 4 and
became Section Six-Twenty-Four.

Section Sixty-Seven

Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe!

Shakespeare

Two units composed of about twenty men each from
Yale and Princeton left Paris on June 19, 1917, for the
ambulance camp at May-en-Multien, where, under the
agreeable leadership of Camp-Chief Fisher, they learned
the fundamentals of French drill and practised driving
on the several different types of cars found there. Then,
when the opportunity came to take over a French sec-
tion, these two bodies united to make the total of forty-
four men necessary in a Fiat section. On June 29, under
the leadership of Sous-Chef Robert L. Nourse, S.S.U.
Sixty-Seven marched to Crouy-sur-Ourcq to entrain for
the front.

At the automobile park at Cramaille, the Section was
quartered comfortably in barracks within sound of the
guns of the Soissons-Reims sector, where we were joined

351

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

by our Chef, Lyman C. Hibbard, formerly of Section
One; and on July 2 we left for Armentleres, the Head-
quarters of the French section we were to take over.
Then, two days later — on the Glorious Fourth — the
Section staged an appropriate celebration with a flag-
raising in the morning and, in the afternoon, a hotly con-
tested Yale- Princeton baseball game, which fortunately
resulted in a tie.

The Section at this time was composed of forty-four
Americans, thirteen Frenchmen, twenty Fiat ambulances,
a staff car, and a camionnette. Second Lieutenant Ouachee,
former commander of the French section, retained his
position under the new organization, and immediately
became popular with all of us, as he was a polished gen-
tleman and a ''bon camarade.'' Le Roy Harding and
Norman Nourse were our Sous-Chefs.

Four days at Armentieres were sufficient for the men
to become familiar with their cars, so that everything
was running in good shape when, late on the night of July
6, the order came to join our Division, the 154th, of the
Tenth Army Corps, then in the trenches near Craonne.

An ambulance section on the move is self-sufficient,
and the twenty Fiats, packed with everything, from the
puppy mascot, "Fixe," to the kitchen stove, set out in
the wee small hours to master the rules of convoy. After
two days on the road, with an overnight stop at Chatil-
lon-sur-Marne, we arrived at Glennes intact and in prac-
tically the same order in which we started.

Our cantonment at Glennes consisted of a double row
of tents beautifully camouflaged, with a mud-hole in
front in which to park the cars. Here we were introduced
to abri life and soon became proficient in diving to a dug-
out when the Boche planes flew over at night dropping
bombs promiscuously.

As the 154th Division had just come out of the
trenches on their way to repos, we were assigned to
general army work, evacuating from pastes de secours at
Beaurieux and Cuiry to the base hospitals in the rear.

352

SECTION SIXTY-SEVEN

The work, although not dangerous, was hard, and called
for plenty of night driving in an active sector which had a
great number of severely wounded men. A total of eleven
out of our twenty cars had to be in service each day,
stationed at Beaurieux, Cuiry, Meurival, Fismes, and
Romain. The Beaurieux poste was by far the most in-
teresting, as it was the first relay between the trenches
under Craonne and the hospitals at Glennes, Saint-
Gilles, and Courlandon.

To our newly initiated Section every sign of action
was welcomed and its importance duly exaggerated.
Every shell that came " crumpfing " into the fields
around the cantonment was the signal for a mad rush to
see what it had done, and the aerial activity never failed
to gather a group of star-gazers. So the two busy weeks
at Glennes passed very quickly, when on July i8 the
orders came for the Section to follow the Division, which
was leaving for the rear to parts unknown, en repos.

The movement of the troops being necessarily slow,
we were forced to follow in easy stages, spending the
nights in temporary cantonments such as old chateaux,
and barns, or in the cars, which we parked along the road.
Our convoys began to get better, and soon we could be
counted on to reach camp in the evening with only the
camion missing.

Leaving Glennes on July i8, as I have just said, we
proceeded to Coulonges, thence to Le Charmel and Con-
nigis, where we stayed two days. The cantonment was
situated thoughtfully and with malicious intent in a
large farmyard, where the central ornament was a com-
bination fountain and drinking-trough.

Our next resting-place was Jouarre, where we stayed
from July 21 to 27. Wild rumors of an expected review
by many-starred generals had the desired effect, and the
cars, parked in perfect alignment behind an eleventh-
century cathedral, were polished and shined from spring-
bolt to tail-light. Finally, however, the review was aban-
doned, much to our disgust.

353

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

At Trilport, on the banks of the Marne, we parked the
cars in the street and recovered from the effects of a dusty
conv^oy by a glorious swim in the river; and just in time,
too, for the civil authorities, doubting our ability to
swim, put the ban upon it. The children of Trilport sur-
passed all previous admirers in the art of staring. Grouped
in silent wonder along the curb, they attained unheard-
of records for the long-distance-standing-stare.

Finally, on July 29 we arrived at Chelles, outside the
war zone and within commuting distance of Paris. As we
should in all likelihood remain there some time, it was
an excellent opportunity for a thorough overhauling of the
cars. Clutches were removed, valves ground, and many
other minor operations tried, which helped pass the time
between arrivals of mail. Then, after pulling many strings
in official quarters, we obtained permissions for a day
in Paris for every one in the Section, going in by groups
of three or four. This was an unexpected treat, and the
Section owed thanks to the Medecin Divisionnaire for
this and many other favors. In the meanwhile we lived
in hopes that the rumor that we were to be sent to Bel-
gium would be realized. Everything pointed that way,
as it was unusual to bring an ambulance section as far
back as Chelles unless some long move was contemplated.
But, contrary to the "dope," orders came, August 13,
to leave the following day for the Alsne front.

The convoy to Betz and Villers-Cotterets differed very
slightly in the main from our other convoys, except that
the ennui had passed and a spirit of eagerness seemed
to have taken possession of every one — for we were
headed into action again, and this time toward front-line
work. At Betz Chej Hibbard left for his permission, and
R. L. Nourse, former Sous-Chef, assumed command. At
Villers-Cotterets we were fortunate in securing an ideal
cantonment in an unused theatre, and the two days
there were made doubly agreeable by the discovery of
hot baths in town.

On August 17 Chef Nourse had the privilege of being

354

ONE OF SECTION SIXTY-SIX'S BORKOWED FRENCH AMBULANCES
AFTER A BOMBARDMENT

IN VASSOGNE AFTER A NIGHT OF SHELLING

SECTION SIXTY-SEVEN

present at a review by General Petain of the officers of
the Division, and we understood that there was some
rivalry, which almost reached dissension, between the
officers of the Automobile Service and those of the Medi-
cal Corps as to which should have ''les americains.''

Ressons-le-Long, where we were from August i8 to
August 22, offered the poorest accommodation that we
had met so far; but our stay there resulted in a final
tuning-up of all the cars. And so ended our month's repos,
in which we had made a rather extensive tour of a rather
large portion of France behind a slowly moving body of
troops who completely exhausted the supply of cigarettes
in every town that they touched.

The 22d of August saw us getting settled in Villa Albert,
a roomy and luxurious chateau in Soissons, perhaps the
best cantonment any ambulance section ever occupied
within shell-range of the front. The cars were parked just
outside a wall surrounding the grounds which faced the
main road to Villers-Cotterets and Paris. The stable near
the house served as kitchen, and excellent water facili-
ties made possible a shower bath in the basement. Ten
sleeping- rooms, an office, a mess-room, another for the
officers' mess, and two bomb-proof cellars, completed
this ideal cantonment. Ventilation was furnished by
numerous holes in the walls, memories of the day not so
long passed when Soissons was under heavier bombard-
ment. We could boast of only half a roof, but a fireplace
in nearly every room gave that little touch of home which
is so agreeable. Many a pleasant evening was passed be-
fore a log fire, and the music of the mandolin, ukulele,
and Hawaiian guitar would carry us back to other days
and stir up hopes and plans for "apres la guerre.''

Immediately upon arriving, the Section took up its
work at the postes where a French section had been.
These postes numbered eight, including a car at the dispo-
sal of the Medecin Divisionnaire. Four of these — Boulloy,
Pont Rouge, Neuville, and Montgarni — were advanced
postes de secours, with Chivres, Perrier, and Clamecy as

355

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

relay pastes. The evacuation was mostly done to the large
hospitals at Soissons and Vauxrot, and the length of the
trip and the condition of some of the roads made the work
difficult. As before, we adopted the schedule of twenty-
four hours on duty with the relief car arriving in the
early afternoon. With nine of our twenty cars in service
each day, there was very little chance for anybody to
complain of idleness.

On August 25 Hibbard returned from his permission
with the news that he was leaving the Service for the
Artillery. It was with regret that we bade au revoir to our '
former Chef, who had come to the Section in its infancy
and had built it up during its two months of service.
Robert L. Nourse was appointed Chef, with Le Roy L.
Harding as Sous-Chef.

Word had now come that the Field Service was being
taken over by the United States Government, and that
recruiting officers would be at our Section in a few days.
On September 4 they arrived, and out of the forty-two
men then composing the Section, twenty-eight at once
enlisted under the new regime. Of those remaining, three
were unsuited physically, and the rest were mainly so
young that they wisely decided to await their parents'
counsel, or to return to finish their college courses.
Later, two of these received approval from home and en-
listed. And here ends the history of S.S.U. Sixty-Seven,
which under the American Army became Section Six-
Twenty- Four.

Kenneth M. Reed ^

1 Of New York City; Princeton, '17; served with the Field Service for
four months; subsequently a member of the U.S. War Trade Boa/d.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

Section Sixty-Seven was enlisted at Solssons on September
5, 1 91 7, and Robert L. Nourse commissioned as Lieutenant.
The Section retained its Headquarters at Soissons until No-
vember 9. During this period our work consisted of maintain-
ing three front posies on the crest of the Chemin des Dames
plateau, and in addition, in evacuating the H.O.E. at Vaux-
rot to the entraining hospitals of Vierzy and Buzancy. Our
work during the Fort Malmaison attack of October 23 was
purely that of H.O.E. evacuation — much to our sorrow.

On November 9 we moved in the train of our Division, the
154th, to Juvigny, ten miles northwest of Soissons. Our
pastes in the Coucy-le-Chateau sector were rather quiet due
to a lull in the fighting. One car, however, was wrecked by
shell-fire at the Landricourt poste on the Aislette. Clever work
on the part of the Section mechanic put this car in rolling order
again. There were no pares then, and the parts for it were un-
obtainable until the following February. It was towed in all
convoys until that date.

On November 19 the Cambrai affair brewing in the north
drew our Division up as reserves, and with brief halts at Mont-
gobert and Baboeuf, near Noyon, we finally encamped in the
valley of the Somme at Vaux, west of Saint-Quentin. The Di-
vision did not go into the lines here, and on December 20 with-
drew en repos to the region around Ressons-sur-Matz. Three
wintry weeks were spent here. January 10, 191 8, we went into
the lines south of Saint-Quentin, with Headquarters at Flavy-
le-Martel. Our pastes were at Clastres, Le Sabliere, and Benay.
The latter two were on the ridge overlooking Saint-Quentin.
Lieutenant Nourse was badly burned in the face and eyes by
mustard gas during our stay here. The sector was taken over
by English troops on January 24.

On January 27 the Division came out en repas again with
Headquarters at Archen, near Roye. On February 8 we
watched with wistful eyes the embarkation of the Division for
Alsace, while we remained behind, an orphan section. The
ruling at that time was that divisions moving long distances,
detached their ambulance sections, taking on new ones in
the new sectors. On February 9 we took up our abode at

357

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Berneuil-sur-Aisne, between Complegne and Soissons, being
attached to the French auto pare there. No service was done
during our stay, and the time was occupied in getting the
Ford fleet in good order — something we all, of course, thor-
oughly hated and escaped from whenever possible.

On March 23 the long-rumored German offensive drew us
to Noyon in the service of the army corps. We left Noyon
hurriedly under orders at 3 a.m. on the 25th, one jump ahead
of the Bodies, and moved to Pont I'Evecque, a few kilometres
away. The Boches gave us no rest, however, and we moved
out of the town that evening just as the German cavalry was
entering it. No cars were on service at that time, as our corps
was not yet moved up. Camp was made near Ribecourt that
night and was abruptly moved again at daylight. The Ger-
mans were not so near that time, but it was orders. Perma-
nent camp was made at Bienville, north of Compiegne, and
the Section began army corps work again, this time for the
33d Corps d'Armee. The work consisted of evacuating the
relay dressing-station of Chiry-Ourscamp to the rear railhead
hospitals. This station was later removed to Ribecourt.

On May 9 we moved up to Chevincourt, five kilometres to
the northward, and were assigned to the 53d Division. The
pastes were at Orval, Carriere-Chaufour, and I'Ecouvillon.
The Section remained quiet until June 9, when the German
offensive between Montdidier and Noyon took place. Four
days of highly exciting work followed, during which we had two
men wounded and one badly gassed. Two days of the attack
were spent in a region constantly deluged with gas, and the
shelling during the whole period was quite intense. Excellent
leadership on the part of Lieutenant Nourse was responsible
for saving the Section many casualties and losses in prisoners.

The attack was over on the 14th, and the 53d Division was
withdrawn for rest and reinforcements, and was entrained
for an Alsatian sector. The Section followed overland, making
one-night stops at Pont Sainte-Maxence, Saint-Germain-
les-Couilly, near Meaux, Chaumont, Luxeuil-les-Bains, Rupt-
sur-Moselle, to Montreux-le-Chateau, between Belfort and
Altkirch. The 26th of June saw the Section snugly quartered
at La Chapelle-sous-Rougemont. The 32d American Division
was in a sector here, and our French troops rested behind the
lines, three companies only being on duty. Work was light, and
the Section had time to lay out a seven-hole golf course for
the golf bugs and to organize a baseball team which com-
peted with varying success against the various outfits of the
32d.

358

SECTION SIXTY-SEVEN

The fighting on the Marne in the middle of July demanded
additional ambulance sections, and Section Sixty-Seven was
ordered from La Chapelle to Lure as a first stage of the journey.
The 53d Division remained in its sector. At Lure the travel-
ling orders were cancelled and the Section came to rest at
Faucogney, between Luxeuil and Rupt-sur-Moselle. Here
we remained, enjoying the picturesque surroundings and the
leisure, but impatient to be back at the front, until August 6,
when the Section moved to Baccarat in Lorraine, being at-
tached to the 37th American Division. Pastes were at Mon-
tigny, Pexonne, Merviller, Neufmaisons, Saint-Fole and Trois
Sapins. The sector was very quiet save for air raids. The Sec-
tion was detached September 4 and moved to Nancy. Here
it was attached to the Echelon americain of Townsend. Quar-
ters were in the Caserne Dronot. Another period of inaction fol-
lowed. The Saint-Mihiel attack occurred during this time,
but we had to sit idly by and watch it, never turning a wheel
for over a month.

October 10 found us on the road to Meaux, via Nancy, Toul,
Saint-Dizier, and Sezanne. From there orders took us to
Vorges, near Laon, and in country just evacuated the day
before. Corps d'Armee work was our lot here until the Armis-
tice. After that stays of various length were made at Mont
Cornet, Soissons, Fourmies, near the Belgian frontier, Mont
Cornet again, and Clermont, north of Paris. Some relief work
was done after the Armistice, and the latter half of the period
the Section was attached to a battalion of chasseurs — a long-
cherished ambition, realized only after the Armistice. We left
for Paris on March 10, en route for home.

Norman C. Nourse^

1 Of Boise, Idaho; Princeton, '18; served in Section Sixty-Seven in Field
Service; and later in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service; a subsequently Second
Lieutenant, U.S. Sanitary Corps.

Section Sixty-Eight

THE STORY TOLD BY
I 6^ II. Sidney Clark Doolittle

SUMMARY

Section Sixty-Eight left Paris on July 21, going to La Ferte-
Milon, and thence to the Pare Levecque. On July 6 it arrived
at the H.O.E. at Bouleuse, where it was engaged in service to
fipernay. This evacuation work it continued until September
13, when enlistment began in the U.S. Army. A little later it
became Section Six-Twenty-One.

Section Sixty-Eight

Gloire k la France au ciel joyeux,

Si douce au coeur, si belle aux yeux,

Soi beni de la Providence! gloire k la France!

Paul Deroul^de

On the morning of June 2"], 191 7, a call was made at the
Field Service Headquarters for men to drive gear-shift
cars. It happened that there were some forty-two men
there who would have risked anything to get somewhere
else. These forty-two raised at least forty-two hands when
the call was made. Of this number perhaps a half knew the
difference between a gear-shift car and a Ford. The other
half had but the courage of their convictions. By night-
fall all belongings had been packed, the useful things
naturally enough being left In storage and the useless
things made ready to take along.

About noon of the 28th the train which was carrying
these forty-two men and their belongings sighed its way
into the station at La Ferte-Milon and the future Section
Sixty-Eight dragged itself from the cars. A convoy of
camions was waiting there for them, into which they piled
with much anticipation of a pleasant ride to somewhere;
but at the end of the first mile every one was taking his
punishment standing, in vain attempt to keep his vari-

363

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

ous inner organs from being joggled into a hopeless mess.
After twenty-five kilometres of this, the convoy rolled
into Pare Levecque, one of the automobile repair pares
near the Soissons-Reims front.

It was here at Pare Levecque that the Section re-
ceived its official number, its French Lieutenant, Chef,
Sous- Chef, and various other decorative and worthy ob-
jects. It was here also that the foundation was laid for that
collection of briquets, canes, and vases which accumulated
with the Section's travels. But our stay the're was short,
as it seemed that the French ambulances which the Sec-
tion was to have were at a near-by village. So we moved
and established ourselves in an aviation camp outside
of this village, whence on the morning of July 6, after a
week of red tape and of acquiring the manner in which
to coax the Fiats to perform, the Section left in convoy
for an unknown destination.

There is no need to tell of the ride in convoy, twenty
cars following one behind the other, and every driver
from the second car to the last damning the one in front
for raising so much dust. Most of the things usual to
gasoline cars happened, but at six-thirty that night the
H.O.E. at Bouleuse — the evacuation hospital behind
the Aisne front, where we were destined to pass our whole
existence while members of the American Field Service

— saw twenty ambulances pull into the hospital grounds
and forty-two dusty individuals crawl stiffly forth. In-
side of five minutes every blesse able to walk, crawl, or
to be assisted, was on hand to welcome the "americains''

— and to sell briquets.

In a few days the Section was in barracks and taking
up the work of evacuation from Bouleuse to Epemay.

This kind of work was not quite the sort that the Sec-
tion had expected, but the first month got by without
much being said. During the second month, however, this
means of helping " make the world safe for democracy"
began to weary us, and signs of unrest became evident.

Some relieved their feelings by strolling out to take a

364

SECTION SIXTY-EIGHT

bath, and returning with photographs of Reims Cathedral
and bits of the rose window. Others climbed a hill over-
looking the city, and by means of binoculars and con-
siderable imagination managed to see a bit of the well-
known horrors of war. Neither baseball nor football
offered much satisfaction, the opponents always being
the same. Poker maintained a fairly steady vogue and
serv-ed to keep the available supply of money circulating;
but no one made a fortune. At that time — late summer
— the country was very beautiful, and the grape-pickers
in the vineyards along the road would toss bunches of
the fruit into our laps as the cars passed by. Epernay it-
self offered the opportunity of enjoying the usual appe-
tizing French meal, and few were the men who did not
return from a trip there distended from gorging them-
selves with delicious French pastry. Even Boche aero-
planes could come and go without causing more than an
apathetic glance. Everybody grew tired of everybody
else, and the man who could find something new to
"grouch" about was always sure of a large and enthu-
siastic audience.

Finally, on September 12 came a United States en-
listment officer, and on September 13 some sixteen in-
dividuals signed up for the thirty odd dollars per
month. Shortly after, the welcome new^s arrived that the
Section was to go into Paris, that the enlisted men, to-
gether with the necessary other nine men who would be
found there, would take out a section of new Field Serv-
ice ambulances, and that the unenlisted men would be
released and be free to go home or to join other services.
Thus ended the existence of Section Sixty-Eight. Our
duty at the front did not really begin until we were taken
over by the United States Army.

Sidney Clark Doolittle ^

^ Of Utica, New York; Cornell, '18; served in the Field Service with
Section Sixty-Eight, and subsequently in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

The sixteen men of S.S.U. Sixty-Eight, who enlisted in the
U.S. Army on September 13, 1917, were the nucleus of new
Section Six-Twenty-One, which was formed at the Field Serv-
ice Headquarters and endowed with new Field Service cars
toward the last of the month. The newly formed Section was
attached to the 74th French Infantry Division, and with it
reached the front about the ist of October, 191 7. The Division
took over a sector to the east of the Chemin des Dames, while
the Section ser\'ed pastes at Pontavert, La Chapelle, Bouf-
fignereux, Guyencourt, and during the winter, one at Gerni-
court. The sector was quiet and the Section was quartered
at Vaux-Varennes not far in the rear, for the first four months.
In February the Section moved to Prouilly, near Jonchery
for a ten-day repos. On returning to the lines, the Division took
over a sector still farther to the east ; between Berry-au-Bac and
Reims, with the pastes formerly served by old Section Twelve.
These were at Cauroy, Cormicy, and Hermonville, with two
advanced pastes between the French first and second lines
and located on Route 44, paralleling the Aisne Canal. These
two pastes were known as Maison Bleue and Saint-Georges,
respectively. The Section went into camp at Chalons-le-
Vergeur.

During the stay in this sector only two events stand out
prominently. The first was in retaliation for an unexpected
bombardment of a section of the Boche trenches and consisted
in the dropping of some thousand gas-shells on Hermonville
at a time when it was filled with sleeping soldiers. As a result
the Section carried nearly five hundred gas cases out of the
town in a day. Shortly after this the Boches took to nightly
shelling of the Section's cantonment, finally culminating on
the fourth night in a grand display of H.E. and gas, mixed. So
the camp was moved to Prouilly !

The Section was enjoying a few days' stay in a chateau near
Lime, south of Braisne, when on the evening of the 26th of
May came orders to prepare for action — a great German at-
tack was to be launched at 4.30 a.m. of the 27th. Then followed
six days of untiring efforts on the part of Section Six-Twenty-
One and of heroic sacrifices and counter-attacks on the part

366

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SECTION SIXTY-EIGHT

of the Division, which had been thrown into line north of Sois-
sons. Towns and villages, later made famous by the attack
of the 26th Division of the U.S. Army, were abandoned only
in the face of overwhelming numbers. Berzy-le-Sec, Billy-sur-
Aisne, Soissons, Vierzv, Chaudun, and Vertefeuille, JMontgo-
bert, Lx)ngpont, Villers-Cotterets, Pernant, Coeuvres, Saint-
Pierre-Aigle, and Crepy-en-Valois will long be remembered
by Section Six-Twenty-One. Many times the ambulances were
the last to leave towns, while some cars crossed the Aisne with
the infantry. Two drivers, John Sanford and Frank Conly,
were wounded by machine-gun bullets in an encounter with
a Boche patrol in Soissons, yet managed to turn their cars
and escape. Three others, Ralph Ellinwood, Frederic Lock-
wood, and William Heckert, were taken prisoners while dis-
charging wounded at the hospital of Mont Notre Dame, south
of Braisne. Two more, Arthur Hazeldine and Robert Hatch,
were wounded by shell-fire. The Boche shelling was terrific.
Their aeroplanes were also much in evidence, either bombing
or machine-gunning the roads, continually. Then followed a
month of repos at Champlatreux, twenty-five kilometres north
of Paris. During this time the Section was re-outfitted with
cars and clothing, having lost all baggage in the retreat. For
this attack the Section was given a divisional citation.

July I found the Section at Le Fayel, a tiny village south-
west of Compiegne. On the 4th the Section moved to Jon-
quieres where Section One was found to be e7i repos. The Di-
vision went into line before Antheuil while the Section estab-
lished two postes in the town of Monchy-Humieres and one at
the Ferme Beaumanoir, outside of Monchy. This front had
been but recently formed in a more or less unsuccessful attempt
of the Boches to widen the Aisne salient by a drive between
Soissons and Montdidier. The shelling was frequent at this
time, and Monchy, lying as it did in a hollow, was often filled
with gas. On August 11 the French began an attack in this
sector, the Division's objective being Lassigny, which was
reached in fifteen days. On the 26th the Division was with-
drawn and the Section went en repos at Remy. During the
attack, postes were served at Antheuil, Marqueglise, Margny,
Lamotte, Gury, and Plessis-de-Roye. The attack was highly
successful, and for its work the Section received another di-
visional citation. Only one man, Philip L. Bixby, was wounded,
although several were gassed.

After a brief rest at R6my, the Section left in convoy for the
Champagne. Passing through Vitry-le-Frangois, Chalons, and
Sainte-M§nehould, camp was made at Coulvagny on Sep-

367

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

tember 6. From Coulvagny the Section was shifted from pillar
to post, finally coming to a brief rest at Courtemont on Septem-
ber 25. On the 26th, the 74th Division attacked in the region
of Le Main de Massiges and Hill 202. The Section camp was
moved to La Neuville-au-Pont on September 30 so as to be
on the direct road used in evacuations. By the 15th of October
the Boches had fallen back and camp was moved again, to
Ville-sur-Tourbe .

The Division came out of lines on October 16, and after six
days of rest, so-called, at Courtemont, went back into action
on October 30. During the period of rest, the Section was
called upon to furnish five cars to act as a reserve for the sec-
tions still in line and also answered the calls for cars to evacu-
ate the hospital at Braux. Fortunately for the Section, this
next attack was a short one, as by the 3d of November the
Boches were in full flight. On November 4 the Division came
out of lines and the Section went into camp at Autry. Neither
the Division nor Section ever went into action again, as
shortly after the attack the Division began a gradual move-
ment to the east, during which time the Armistice was signed.
The victory was celebrated by the Section at Vavray-le-
Grand, near Vitry-le-Frangois. By the 24th of December the
Division had reached the neighborhood of Ensisheim, in Ger-
man Alsace, where the Section was quartered outside the town
in a brick building with hot and cold running water, showers,
tubs, steam heat, and electric lights.

February 3, 1919, the Section convoyed over the Vosges
Mountains to Arches, a little town fifteen kilometres from
Epinal. Here the Division undertook to train a batch of Polish
recruits, and upon the demobilization of the greater part of the
old Division, it came to be known as the 5th Polish Division.

Orders came on the 20th of March to convoy the cars to
Paris, and early in the morning of the third day the Section
rolled into the pare at Longchamps.

Sidney Clark Doolittle

Section Sixty- Nine

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Henry B. Rigby
n. Robert Randolph Ball

SUMMARY

Section Sixty-Nine came into being on July 13, 1917, at
May-en-Multien, going to the French pare at Saint-Martin-
d'Ablois to get the French Fiat cars which were assigned to it.
On July 23 it left via Saint-Dizier and Bar-le-Duc, for Isson-
court. On September 7 it moved to Glorieux, near Verdun,
evacuating to hospitals at Landrecourt, Souilly, Souhesme
and Fleury-sur-Aire. From September 14 to 19 it was at Geni-
court in the Mouilly sector. Then it was at Mirecourt and
Jussecourt en repos for eight days, from where it went back to
Glorieux on September 13, succeeding Section Sixty-Four at
posies at Verdun — Vacherauville, Bras, Carriere des Anglais,
and La Fourche. It left Glorieux on October 18 to go en repos
at Chardogne, near Bar-le-Duc, where it was recruited by
United States officials. Subsequently it was amalgamated with
Section Twenty-Six, the Ford cars of which it took over, be-
coming Section Six-Thirty-Eight of the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service.

Section Sixty-Nine

O France of the world's desire,

O France new-lighted by supernal life,

Wrapt in your battle-flame,

All nations take a splendor from your name!

Edwin Markham

Evacuations at Bar-le-Duc

Section Sixty-Nine came into existence at the Field
Service camp near May-en-Multlen, July 13, 1917, when
forty-four men, with our Lieutenant, Andre Fraye, left
for Salnt-Martln-d'AbloIs, where we were joined the next
day by our Chef, Charles Allen Butler, of New York City,
who had been the Sous- Chef ol Section Thirteen. At Saint-
Martin twenty Fiat ambulances and a Fiat camionnette
awaited us which we took over from S.S. Sixty-Nine of
the French ambulance service.

The cantonment at Saint-Martin was all that one could
desire, and the formative period of our Section passed
pleasantly In this little Champagne village, which was the
more acceptable because of its proximity to Epernay and
Reims. Our red-letter day there was July Fourteenth,
which was properly celebrated by French and Americans

371

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

alike, with an extraordinarily fine dinner and champagne
and cigars, the gift of the French Government.

After ten days in Saint-Martin, days of practice-driv-
ing with the Fiats and of necessary inventories of equip-
ment, we left in convoy on July 23 for Saint-Dizier and
Bar-le-Duc, en route for Issoncourt, in the Verdun sector,
where we learned that the Section had been put en reserve
with the 2d French Army, and where seven weeks of wait-
ing were destined to elapse before it saw active service
with a division. In the meanwhile, we learned to excel in
French infantry drill of a rudimentary sort. But the can-
tonment at Issoncourt left much to be desired. Life among
the fowl and sheep of the barnyard compared unfavorably
with what we had known at Saint-Martin-d' Ablois. How-
ever, there was compensation in the fact that we were
nearer real war,- nearer the ever-booming guns, nearer, in
short, to what we had come to France to do, so that the in-
conveniences of Issoncourt were to some extent mitigated.

The first work of the Section came on the afternoon of
Monday, August 20, when we were ordered to evacuate
wounded to the large central hospitals of Bar-le-Duc.
The big attack at Verdun on the morning of that day had
resulted in a tremendous success for the French. The num-
ber of blesses was large, and fifteen of our ambulances were
employed in carrying the couches. Five cars remained at
Vadelaincourt, and were present on the night of the 20th,
during the Boche air raid there, which so completely de-
stroyed the operating- wards of the hospital and brought
death to a number of devoted doctors and nurses. This
raid, the main topic of conversation for weeks to come,
was a strenuous but fitting introduction to Boche methods
and gave us a taste of what lay in store for us.

Issoncourt's proximity to Souilly, the Headquarters of
the Second Army, made it a favorite place of visitation
for enemy avions, and every clear night found the Section
safeguarding itself in caves voutees, lying down with the
sheep in folds secure. Two of these raids, I may add,
proved most exciting. But just as we had got accustomed

372

SECTION SIXTY-NINE

to this sort of thing, the Section moved on September 7
to Glorieux, a half-kilometre from Verdun, where for five
days it assisted Section Four in evacuation work from the
triage at Glorieux to the various hospitals at Landrecourt,
Souilly, Souhesme, and Fleury-sur-Aire. The task was
difficult, but especially interesting to us as the Section
here had its first opportunity to serve as a unit ; and our
return to Issoncourt, which followed, brought us discon-
tent, for real work had tasted good. But we were destined
to remain only four days in Issoncourt, as we were soon
attached to the 131st Division of the French army and
went in convoy to our new cantonment at Genicourt in
the Mouilly sector, where we remained from September
14 to September 19.

The cantonment at Genicourt was only a makeshift,
and the nights found most of us on the floor of the abri,
for hostile avians were very numerous. Later we returned
to Glorieux and were billeted in the old seminary, where
we were most comfortable. While working at the difficult
paste of La Fourche, five of our cars were pierced with
eclats, but during the work on the Verdun front no mem-
ber of the Section met with any serious mishap. Two
Croix de Guerre were awarded to members of the Section
for work done with the Division. The Section left Glori-
eux on October 18, to go en repos with its Division at
Chardogne, near Bar-le-Duc, where the United States
recruiting officers visited us, and the Section again made
an excellent showing — twenty-one men enlisting and
the Chef getting a commission. On October 20 Lieuten-
ant Butler and the men who had enlisted were moved to
Ancemont, where they took over the Ford ambulances
of Field Service Section Twenty-Six. The Section became
officially Six-Thirty-Eight and continued to serve the
French Army until long after the Armistice.

Henry B. Rigby ^

1 Of Mansfield, Ohio; Yale, '15; Sous-Chef oi Section Sixty-Nine; later
Chief of Disbursements, War Registration, and Draft for Ohio for the re-
mainder of the war.

The Bombing of Vadelaincourt

August 24, 1 91 7

I SHALL never forget the night of August 20, 19 17. We
were sent to the evacuation hospital at Vadelaincourt
to help take back to the rear the many wounded of the
first day's fighting of the great French attack of the day
before; and many there were, too. It was late in the after-
noon when we reached the hospital; the sun was just set-
ting against a beautiful, clear sky. We had to wait until
about nine o'clock, and the night was clear and still.
Scarcely any breeze was stirring, but the cannon flashed
and thundered continuously on the horizon. Mack and
I, our Chef, and the drivers of the other two cars were
all sitting on a bench just outside the main hospital
shack, watching the beautiful star-shells burst in the
distance, while now and then two or three powerful
searchlights would scan the sky above our heads for
enemy craft. We were all enjoying this; and some one
jokingly remarked, "Doesn't it remind you of a great
Fourth-of-July celebration in the United States?" Sud-
denly the whirr of an aeroplane in motion sounded over
our heads. Scarcely had we jumped to our feet when
two crashes sounded about a square away from us; and
for ten seconds at least everything was aglow and lighted
up as bright as day. We all realized instantly what had
happened.

There is a large aviation pare not far from the hospital.
An enemy plane had climbed high into the air on his side
of the line, and then shut off his motor and glided down
until he came to this pare, dropping two incendiary bombs
as he passed. It was the explosion of these that we heard
and saw. Just as he dropped them he turned on his motor
and darted back toward his own lines, amid a shower of

374

SECTION SIXTY-NINE

bursting shells from the French anti-aircraft guns. We
could see him just a little way above us in the bright glow
of the explosion, dashing ahead at a terrific rate.

As soon as this occurred, the Chef gave orders to put on
our steel helmets, stay near our cars, and to have our gas-
masks ready, because a gas-bomb might be dropped. In
the meantime our three cars were lined up in front of the
main hospital shack. There are about sixty of these long
wooden buildings arranged in two rows facing each other.

About ten-thirty we were all inside the shacks look-
ing at some of the many wounded Boche prisoners, when
just as one of us was remarking, "I feel sorry for them,"
we heard the same roar again, and in an instant three
crashes hurled showers of earth and missiles upon our
hospital, caused every light in the place to go out, and
everybody, including ourselves, fell flat on the floor. It
was then quite evident that the Germans were trying to
hit this hospital, for these three bombs had missed it
by only about one hundred feet, landing in a field just
behind the hospital where they made three deep pits.

Things were becoming really serious, so the Chef told
us to look for an ahri. But alas ! before we could do this,
six more bombs fell all around us. Then wild excitement
followed. Frenchmen were dashing at full speed for an
abri; and we followed suit. Some fell down in the gutters
beside the hospital, some dived under the ambulances.
By this time there were several planes above us, and one
of their bombs had hit its mark, for the section of the
hospital across the road was now a mass of roaring flames,
and the whole place was as bright as day. The screams of
the wounded were drowned by the crashes of the bombs,
and, to add to the horror, the gas-signal was flashed, for
the Germans were dropping bombs charged with gas, one
whiff of which would finish any one.

We clapped on our masks as did every one else, and it
Is needless to say we all thought our time had come, for
the bombs were now raining in all directions, and the
whole village was aglow from the burning hospital. The

375

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE.

miserable aviators had been able to swoop down low and
take good aim before letting a bomb fall ; so of course the
hospital was set on fire. We had to crank our cars and
stand by them so as to be ready to rush the wounded away
as soon as they could be brought from the burning build-
ing. But presently another bomb burst still closer to us,
when we were all ordered to fly to an abri at once. While
Mack and I, along with three French officers, were doing
so, we looked up and saw a plane just above us. The bomb
beat us ; we were still about twenty feet from an ahri; and
just as it burst, we dived under an ambulance near by,
the Frenchmen coming down right on our backs. The ex-
plosion sent a shower of rocks and earth against and on top
of the car; but I am thankful to say that no one was hurt.
We did n't wait there for the next one, however. We
scrambled out from under the car, and all of us dived into
the ahri, head-on. It was quite a "mix-up" when we hit
the bottom; but that was better than a "blow-up," we
thought.

After this bomb had fallen, there seemed to be a little
lull. So our Chef led the way out of the abri, and we all
hurried back to our cars. The hospital was still burn-
ing furiously, but the fire had not reached across the
road where we were. The lull was only for a moment;
another lot of planes now flashed over our heads strew-
ing incendiary and gas-bombs in all directions. The work
was now too serious for us to leave our cars, for the
wounded were being rapidly loaded into them; so we
stood by, patiently awaiting our finish.

My car was the last one to be loaded; and you can
imagine how Mack and I felt when we saw the other two
cars load up and pull out, leaving us still there! I confess,
however, that I never want to be caught in such a place
again; the suspense was a little too much. It seemed to us
as if the brancardiers took months to load our car, while
every moment the flying machines increased in number.
Apparently the big anti-aircraft guns were having no
effect on them. I never felt so happy in all my life as I did

376

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p 15
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aJ £:

SECTION SIXTY-NINE

when the signal was given for us to pull out, when we
passed right beside the burning buildings and could see
many of the poor, helpless wounded trying to drag them-
selves out of reach of the hungry flames.

As this hospital was filled with seriously wounded
patients, none of them had the slightest chance of escap-
ing unless some one helped them, which, of course, every-
body tried to do. Strange to say, the majority of cases
were Germans, and most of those lost were Boche wounded.
Of course, many were killed by the explosion of the bomb
and many were lost in the fire. Needless to say, the part
of the hospital which was hit was totally destroyed, but
the part on the other side of the road was not harmed.

This is another addition to the long brutality list
drawn up against the Germans. I may add that the
Boches make this kind of addition quite frequently.

It was four-thirty in the morning when we finally got
our ambulance loads of wounded back to the hospital in
the rear of the fighting zone and got into our beds.

Robert Randolph Ball ^

' Of Blltmore, North Carolina; University of Virginia, '17; served in
Section Sixty-Nine of the Field Service until October, 1917; subsequently
a Second Lieutenant of Artillery in the French Army. The above are ex-
tracts from a home letter.

Editor's Note. — The subsequent history of the greater part of the per-
sonnel of old Section Sixty-Nine is told at the end of Section Twenty- Six's
history, as they took over the cars of this Section which became Six-Thirty-
Eight of the U.SA. Ambulance Service with the French Army.

Section Thirty

THE STORY TOLD BY

I ^ II. Albert Edward MacDougall
III. J. Oliver Beebe

SUMMARY

After a month of inactivity at May-en-Multien, Section
Thirty was at last formed, and on the i6th of July, 1917, left
Paris for Dugny, near Verdun. From this base it served Vade-
laincourt, Chaumont, Monthairon, and other hospitals. On
September 4 it left Dugny for Rambluzin, near Benoite Vaux
for repos. During the second week in October the Section was
moved on flatcars to Blanzy, south of Soissons, where the re-
cruiting ofhcers found it. On October 15, it moved to Vauxrot
in the same sector, from there aiding in the Fort Malmaison
attack of October 23, and finally moving on October 28 to
Saint-Remy, en repos. Upon the militarization of the Service
the remaining members of Section Thirty were combined with
those of old Section Eighteen to form Six-Forty-Two of the
U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Section Thirty

Verdun! A clarion thy name shall ring
Adown the ages and the Nations see
Thy monuments of glory. Now we bring
Thank-offering and bend the reverent knee,
Thou star upon the crown of Liberty !

Eden Phillpotts

Coming to France — Work at Dugny

The "Harvard Section" was composed of twenty-five
Cambridge graduates and undergraduates, plus a few
aspirants, and all of us must express our gratitude to Mrs.
Henry B. Duryea, whose energetic efforts terminated suc-
cessfully in raising a sum sufficient to equip the Section
with Fords.

On June 2, 19 17, we sailed from New York for Bor-
deaux. During the trip across, Paul Rainey, the lion-
hunter, decided to obtain moving pictures of the stern gun
in action; so when the gunners went through the usual
motions of loading, one of them slipped a shell into the
gun while the second was posing, with the result that the
latter touched off the firing-pin and the obus went skip-
ping past a passing cargo ship. Whereupon the captain
gave the gunner two months in prison, the passengers

381

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

went back to their books and shuffle-board, and Rainey
developed his film.

We spent only a week in Paris and a month at May-
en-Multien waiting for the promised "flivvers," when
finally on July i6 we took up our work under the wise
and kind leadership of Ralph Richmond, formerly of
Section Fifteen, and just fresh from the officers' school
at Meaux.

Travelling in convoy, we arrived in Chalons for our
first night. Here we saw our first Boche prisoners, and
caused considerable excitement among the French poilus
by playing baseball. They rather marvelled at the dis-
tance the Americans could throw the ball, and were quite
unable to imitate us. The next morning, with sore arms
from cranking stiff cars, we got an early start and reached
Bar-le-Duc in the forenoon, where every one stocked up
with the famous jelly of the town. In repacking some of
the cars six months later, we found a few jars of this jelly
carefully hidden in the side-boxes where they had been
put at that time.

At our Dugny cantonment we were assigned two tents
connected with the large evacuation hospital built for
the coming attack at Verdun, where we lived in more or
less luxury, having electric lights and being able to take
shower baths under the water spigots when the military
doctors were not about. Wounded did not begin coming
in for about ten days, so under the able direction of
our first Sous-Chef, Bingham, all took turns in stringing
barbed wire around the cantonment, putting up an eat-
ing-tent, building a cook-shack, and cracking stones for
a road for the cars. Avion combats, passing troops, and
now and then a burning saucisse were the only things
that looked like war until the heavy artillery began to
speak, and wounded poured in. Then the cars started
to work, carrying blesses to Vadelaincourt, Chaumont,
Monthairon, and other hospitals varying distances away.

The most distasteful trip was that to the railway sta-
tion in our town. The Boches were evidently bent on

382

SECTION THIRTY

forcing the ravitaillement base to move farther back, for
they began dropping close to the station "380's" from
their naval guns. At first the shells came at weekly inter-
vals — on Sunday mornings ; but gradually the intervals
grew shorter until at the end of August a certain number
were sure to come twice a day. The town soon began to
take on a more desolate appearance as the houses here
and there commenced to tumble and the few civilians and
many soldiers moved out. At the hospital in the cen-
tre of the town — to give one example of these changed
conditions — seven nurses were one day huddled in an
open trench while the shelling lasted, when a misguided
shell fell directly on their temporary refuge, killing three
of them and wounding the other four. It was our No. 757
that carried to the hospital Mile. Yolande de Baye, who
shortly afterwards was decorated with the Cross of the
Legion of Honor in recognition of her heroic conduct on
this occasion.

During August the average of cars rolling per day was
about ten, and at no time did we call on the ten French
cars held at the hospital as a reserve for our Section. In
the last days of this month shells landed upon the oper-
ating-room of Hospital 225 and in consequence the medi-
cal authorities decided to evacuate it, which gave our
twenty cars a busy two hours. But after this the work
gradually slackened up, until at the beginning of Septem-
ber, when our hospital shut its doors, the cars stood idle.

Hospitals bombed — A Move by Train

The last moonlit nights of August were made memorable
by the aviation raids about which much appeared in the
newspapers. Not only were bombs dropped on over five
of the hospitals near Verdun, but the aviators also raked
the roads with their machine guns. In consequence of
this heartless conduct, two military doctors were killed
and four wounded as they worked in the hospital where
we were quartered. Other bombs dropped on all sides,
but did little damage except tearing holes in our tents and

383

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

upturning a few graves in the near-by cemetery. So, after
.spending several nights in near-by trenches and under
haystacks, the fellows received with pleasure the order
to move for a three weeks' repos, which was spent in the
Bois de Chanois at Rambluzin, a typically French village
near Benoite Vaux, noted for its shrine, to which many
pilgrimages were made before the war.

Our peaceful existence in these delightful woods was
interrupted by the rumors of the nearness of the recruit-
ing commission sent out to take over the Field Service
sections. Then came an unexpected order to entrain for
an unknown destination. It did not take long to pack
and at the appointed hour we were at Ligny-en-Barrois,
where our Fords were put atop of flatcars. It was a some-
what perilous trip in a sense, because of the strong temp-
tation to visit your neighbor on the next car while the train
was moving along. On the other hand, it was interesting,
for a change, to sit inside your ambulance and watch
through the window the French scenery. At 2 a.m. the
train came to a stop in Villers-Cotterets, where we learned
that we had changed from the Fourth to the Sixth Army.
Then the heavy French ambulances on the forward part
of the train had to be unloaded first, and as there was
but one platform on which the cars could be placed it
was not until seven that the first Ford was taken off.
For this work the Section was divided into squads work-
ing in relays: one squad detaching the freight car and
pushing it by hand to the platform, another running the
ambulance off the car, and the third switching the empty
car. It took just an hour and a half to unload and park,
ready for the start to Blanzy, where the Section was to
be held in reserve for the Tenth Army Corps.

SoissoNS — The Recruiting Officers

It was at Blanzy that the U.S. recruiting commission
found us living in our cars and trying to keep dry. The
officers, who appeared unexpectedly and in a downpour
of rain, sat down in the only room near by which boasted

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a fireplace, and there the Section gathered around to ask
questions. But the fact that interested us most in this
connection was the official promise that the group should
continue to be known as Section Thirty.

About October 15 we moved to Vauxrot, north of Sois-
sons, to do the evacuation work, and were quartered in a
barrack in a destroyed distillery. After shovelling bottles
for over an hour, we were able to park the cars without
losing any tires. There were bottles everywhere — empty
ones — and as a further disappointment the proprietor
of the place refused to allow old grenades and spent shells
to be thrown at the stock !

During the Aisne attack the work was not too heavy.
Yet with Section Sixty-Seven, which was with us at this
moment, we received the felicitations of the Minister
of War for what we did during this October push.

On October 28 we again went en repos, this time at
Saint-Remy, where the official cantonment was a large
farmhouse. But the men preferred to scatter to all parts
of the town. Coffee and bread would be served by the
Section at seven-thirty, and by eight the various groups
would be breakfasting before the open fires on chocolate
with omelettes and toast.

Before the breaking-up on November 10, the Section
made one more move to Soissons, when Its personnel was
completed by men from Section Eighteen and the Am-
bulance Base Camp, when, for just a month thereafter,
five cars worked daily from the Central Hospital at Sois-
sons, at the end of which period we were attached to the
22d Division of the Eleventh Army Corps.

From July, 1917, when the Section started out, up to
the end of the year, we carried 3773 wounded and 165 1
sick cases.

Albert Edward MacDougall ^

1 Of Flushing, New York; Harvard, 'l8; joined the American Field Serv-
ice in June, 1917, when he became 5oM5-C/je/ of Section Thirty; subsequently
a First Lieutenant in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

The Work of the Huns

Dugny, August 3, 1917
Yesterday afternoon I took three severely wounded men
to the railway station where they were to be shipped far-
ther back for further treatment. One of these chaps —
they were peasants between thirty and forty years old —
had both legs off, another an arm lost, and the third some
shrapnel in his head and chest. They remained lying in
my car for about an hour without a murmur, awaiting the
arrival of the train, which was late. In the meanwhile a sol-
dier came up and asked me for a cigarette, and we talked
as he smoked. He was twenty years old ; two brothers had
been killed in the war, and his father and mother had been
lost, soon after the destruction of his home, in territory
over which the Germans swept at the beginning of the war.
He is now alone in the world, and rather a bitter soul,
to say the least. He was seventeen when the Germans
came riding into his home town and took possession of
the house. In one room lay a wounded French sergeant
who was decidedly in the way of the German officers.
One of the latter caught a youngster of thirteen giving
the sergeant a cup of water, and knocking this out of his
hand, ordered the boy to shoot the sergeant. The boy
raised the gun that was thrust into his hands and aimed
it at the sergeant as he lay on the straw, but just as he
pulled the trigger he twisted the muzzle around so that
the bullet pierced the chest of the German lieutenant,
who dropped at his feet. The young chap who told me
this said that this was a part of what he had witnessed,
and gave it as the reason why he no longer took prisoners
when the choice came to him. He had played marbles
with the boy of thirteen many a time in happier days
before the war. Some of my friends here don't believe the
story, but I do, he was so evidently sincere, and a man
does n't wipe tears from his eyes when joking.

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Mud and Artillery

August 4
It has rained continuously for several days and you have
no idea what mud is until you have run a car through this
mud and then tried to wash it off. I came off twenty-four
hours' duty at the hospital-church yesterday and then
attempted to live up to regulations by washing my car.
I ran it down to an open space a little off the main road
and near a running brook. The car was caked several
inches thick, for it had had several trips the night before,
and after two hours' steady scrubbing I tossed aside my
worn sponge and gave up the job. Some of the mud did
come off, but the brook water had left broad streaks,
effectually disguising the car, but not brightening it, and
when I finally got it parked in front of our tents, it looked
worse than ever. The spigot shower got most of the mud
off my slicker and shoes, although it did n't exactly dry
them; but a quick change, a cup of coffee, and all was
well. And even the war was forgotten when a letter came
giving all the news from home.

August 10
By chance I have had the good fortune to make the
acquaintance of the major in charge of some heavy artil-
lery batteries here, and his officers have taken me over
the whole outfit, even showing me the photos, made by
aviators, of German trenches and present positions. This
evening I took Gardner Emmons back there with me,
where I found several more French officers added to the
company. We two conducteurs — young Americans —
sat there as big as life, keeping them amused, while we
ate their Breton cakes with jam and drank their tea. Gard-
ner said how much he liked tea and how difficult it had
been to find any, so that finally he bore off in triumph
a whole can of it, thanks to the kindness of the major,
who offered to take us along with him, promising better
training than any artillery school can offer; but some

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questions as to citizenship and its retention stand in
the way. Later, the major, who is a real old soldier and
has been in service in all the colonies as an engineer, took
me out in his car to see some mined towns and to point
out various positions, and then invited me to lunch in his
dining-car. We had omelette, roast duck with lettuce and
peas, three kinds of wine, and chocolate pudding with
baked apples and jam. It would have amused you to see
me trying to keep up conversation in French with two
captains, a lieutenant, and a major. Much to the amaze-
ment of the rest of the crowd here, the old major asked
our lieutenants, French and American, and myself, to
tea again the next day, and we enjoyed it a lot. I am going
to ask father to send him a box of cigars soon, when I am
permitted to give his name.

August 20

No matter what you say about the horrors of war, there
are inspiring sights in connection with it. It is hard to
judge what class of men are to be most admired; but the
doctors are certainly playing an important and difficult
part. It must be a strain on any man to be at top speed
day and night performing necessary operations. We bring
in frightful cases, yet the doctors work cheerfully and
continuously. The sisters of charity and nurses, who come
so close to the front and have to work under an occasional
shelling, also deserve great praise. As a general reflection,
I should say that the French have stood the strain won-
derfully and no praise of this nation can be exaggerated.

The Attack

August 26
I HAVE had no time to write this week on account of the
attack in this sector, which we had been waiting for ever
since we arrived here, knowing that when it did come
there would be plenty of work. Last Saturday every car
was gone over and finishing-touches put on, for we had
been told that the great event would come in the morning ;

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EVACUA.TING A HOSPITAL

TRANSFERRING THE WOUNDED TO THE TRAIN

SECTION THIRTY

and sure enough, by eight o'clock the first wounded be-
gan to come in, when from then on car after car drew up
and was unloaded. The sitting cases were smiling and
happy for the most part, glad of a wound to keep them
out of it for a time, though many complained that they
would only be out for a month or so. But the lying
cases were frightful and showed war in its most ghastly
aspects. It was our first experience with any number of
cases which had had only rough poste treatment, and
I admit it was sickening. That feeling, however, has
gone now, after a week of steady work and seeing such
revolting sights so often. The mud from the trenches, of
course, made the shattered men lying on the stretchers
appear far worse. Most of them seemed to be hurt in the
head or about the legs, and were carried into the big
tents to a long table, where their wounds were examined
hastily and the men assigned to different tents, ac-
cording to the nature of the wounds. The surgeons soon
were busy, performing one operation after another, while
a long line of stretchers waited their turn. They stood on
their feet doing this difficult work all day and most of the
night without a let-up, and have stuck to it. For the
most part, no anaesthetics were used. These French sol-
diers are a brave lot.

It was n't long before all our cars began to roll, taking
men from a central tent to hospitals in all directions, the
hospital depending on the nature of the case. Fractures,
for instance, go to a town which is our longest trip, to
make which takes us three hours in daytime. All trips
take longer at night because it is difficult to drive with-
out lights and then there is more traffic on the roads. It
was something new for the Section to have all the cars
rolling; but every one worked hard, and things went well.
After the first two days ten cars went on for twenty-four
hours, and then the next ten changed off. We keep the
cars lined up outside the clearing-house tent and move
out in the order in which we come in. During the day
every one wants to get a long trip, and is disgusted

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when his car stands first and he has to go just about two
kilometres to a hospital for very serious cases. At night
this does n't hold, because then the strain tells before
you get back.

Lost

Wednesday morning I went on at six and worked all
day, getting meals, mostly cold, from one to two hours
late. Finished a seventy-kilometre trip at eleven-thirty
that night and then lay down on a stretcher in a spare
tent to sleep. At twelve-thirty a call came for a little
longer trip to two hospitals to which I had never been
before; but as we are provided with small maps, I antici-
pated no trouble finding the hospitals in question. So
three couches were loaded in the dark, and off we started.
I knew the roads for a quarter of the distance, and so had
no trouble in dodging trucks and officers' cars, which fly
by at a terrific rate. But it was a different proposition on
the strange roads, and the few stars that were out helped
but little. You are keyed up to the highest pitch, staring
into the darkness ahead of you and trying to keep on
your side of the road without getting into the yawning
ditches. Fortunately, I had only one man who groaned
at the bumps; so it made going a bit easier.

On the crossroads in most of the towns stood sentinels
with a dull light ; so with their help I found the first hos-
pital and there left two of my wounded. Then I started
off again, praying, for the sake of the man in the rear of
the car, that I should be able to find the next place with-
out delay. No sooner had I made the first turn out of the
town than I met wagon trains coming in the opposite
direction. Of all things to pass at night, these wagon
trains are the worst,' for the horses and mules walk all
over the road, in spite of efforts to keep them on their
own side. Especially when the train halts the horses turn
sideways and the men sit beside the wagons.

I crept on through the next town — most of the houses
were shattered by shell-fire and were ghastly at night —

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and finally began to worry about finding my hospital. In
the next village I woke a guard who, when he was suf-
ficiently awake, told me that I had passed the town in
which the hospital was located. It was discouraging to
have to turn back, and I felt sorry for the chap in the
car; but it had to be done. I got back to the town in due
time, and found the wagons still filing through it, but
saw no hospital. So leaving the car in the road with a sen-
tinel, who swore he had never heard of a hospital in that
town, I started off on foot to locate it. I ran in one direc-
tion and then up the street in an opposite way, afraid at
first to go far from the car. About every block I would
pound on a door and try to stir up some one ; but nothing
stirred. In one place some one stuck his head out of a
window, cursing at me for flashing a spot-light, because of
flying machines. In two houses the voices of women re-
plied to my shouted inquiries ; but neither had ever heard
of a hospital there. By this time I was hot and about
ready to give up, when an officer of a wagon train helped
me wake up a truck driver, fast asleep in the bottom of
his vehicle, who put on his shoes and started up the road
with me in the direction from which I had originally
passed through the town, though he had arrived just that
evening and was weary, after a forty-eight-hour drive.
After walking for five or ten minutes, he stopped and told
me to fetch the car, for we were now near a hospital
which he had passed as he came in that day; and sure
enough, not five hundred yards off, was the hospital I
was looking for, totally hidden by trees and its entrance
concealed by a wagon train. It stood on my left as I
came into the town and I had missed it quite naturally.
We now woke up the stretcher-bearers at the hospital
and took the wounded man out of my car. He was asleep,
and evidently had been so for some time ; so all was well.
But he finally woke up when he was rolled off the stretcher
in order to give it to me. I would do anything for that
driver, for to me he is a nameless friend and benefactor.
It was so late now that I decided not to hurry; so I

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stopped to drink a thermos bottle of hot black coffee.
This was a godsend and helped make the ride back a lot
easier. Anyway, you always start home with a breath of
relief and a care-free feeling, since you are relieved of
your wounded or sick cases. But this particular return
trip was a bit different from ordinary ones, for most all
the way back I had to pass the same wagon trains which I
had met coming. I was now going with them, which is
harder, for you have to get into the train somehow, and
it 's often hard to get out again. For instance, at one
place I was held up on a narrow bridge, between two
huge carts, for half an hour, while at another spot they
were kind enough to move over twenty carts into the
field, so that I could get by. It was necessary all the way
back to drive with the right hand on the wheel and the
left continually blowing the horn. I skinned a few trees
and ran over some piles of stones where the road was
being mended, but finally got safely back to our paste at
the hospital, at just 4.30 A.M.

A Sous-Chef — A Birthday Party

August 28
I HAD a trip yesterday afternoon, and a long one it was;
but I did n't have to go out during the night. We slept
in a spare tent, fully dressed and ready to go out, which
ten of the cars did do. It was pouring rain and very cold.
No one slept a wink, not because the stretchers were hard,
but because one blanket did not keep the cold out. Charlie
and I talked part of the night, and now and then got up
for coffee. We are on again to-night, but will have sorne
trips so that we shan't think so much about the cold in
bed. By the way, up to three or four days ago, we had
carried, since August i, fifteen hundred men. But during
the last few days the average has been higher because of
the attack. I have been chosen Sous-Chef, and certainly
appreciate the honor, for I would rather be with this
Section than do anything else. I think far more of the

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Service after the hard work we have gone through, and
I want to stick to it now. There is something more per-
sonal in this branch of the Service than in any other, es-
pecially when you help run one of these sections; and I
shall now be busier than ever getting into my new job.

August 29
Last night I celebrated my twenty-first birthday by
adding knickknacks to the dinner. We had quite a feast,
and palatable things which are different from our usual
menu make a strong appeal to twenty-five hungry men.
Davis, our supply purchaser, helped me out by getting
a few things in a large town near by, and then Charlie,
Gardner Emmons, and Sammy Wendell aided by peeling
potatoes, so that the cook would have time to cook stuffed
tomatoes. Well, the first extra was butter, served with the
soup, the same kind we have had every night since leav-
ing Paris. With the stuffed tomatoes, potatoes, and meat,
we had some of the thermos-kept chocolate, which was a
great treat. Then came two bottles of champagne for each
table, which was the trump card, of course. To the des-
sert of canned pears were added sweet crackers, candy,
and grapes, which rounded out the dinner.

A Battery in Action

On Thursday all were quite busy, as " 155's " kept going
for about ten hours. Most of the cars had a call at seven,
just before breakfast, to carry gas cases — trench artillery-
men affected by a new gas which burns deeply through
their uniforms. The acid is sent off after the explosion of
the shells. The gas-masks proved ineffectual, as most of
the men's eyes were visibly swollen. Then I had a long
trip to base hospital for medicines for these cases and got
back to our evacuation hospital just in time for two more
trips to the town, to which we went in the morning and
to the station. On the way to the hospital for gas cases,
you have to cross a wide meadow, river, and canal by a
narrow bridge, which is just wide enough for a single

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wagon, and as there always are wagons just ahead of you,
one has to crawl along in low for an interminable length
of time, which is tiresome. But Charlie and I found the
bridge by which you return empty of trucks, and it was a
great relief to rattle along unimpeded.

The next day I had a call from my battery commander
to come to his post, as they were about to open up for
the first time and wanted a car on hand in case of trouble.
Bingham went along with me to see the guns fire, but we
did n't expect much work. Right after coffee we hustled
along and left the car on the road at one of the entrances
to the field, just as the commander had instructed me to
do on my first visit. We went through the camouflage
which hides the road and into the field, where the guns
stood uncovered, ready for action, lined up parallel, with
ammunition cars directly in rear. The guns were not
loaded, as this is about the last step before firing; but
the crews were ready and one shell lay on the steel slot
waiting to be shoved into the open breech. Two bags of
powder in baskets were placed farther back on the gun
platform, while another shell hung ready to take the place
of number one. Twenty minutes later we were startled to
hear the telephonist, in a half-covered dugout beside the
gun, repeat the commands to charge the piece, whereupon
the crew rushed to position, the fuse was screwed in, the
shell shoved far into the breech, the heavy lock swung,
the cord attached to the firing-pin, and as the muzzle of
the gun swung upwards by the turning of a crank on the
side, the crew jumped from the platform and stood beside
the ammunition car. All was now ready, and the sergeant
stood with raised hand ready, at the word from the tele-
phonist, who listened eagerly for the captain's voice
from the field headquarters, to signal to the man holding
the firing cord. " Tires/ "came the order, the hand dropped,
and the man beside the gun pulled the cord with both
hands, when, with a loud resounding report and a spurt
of flame, the huge gun jumped back about six feet, and the
shell sped out on its way, sounding like a locomotive

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SECTION THIRTY

drawing heavy Pullmans at break-neck speed ; and as the
wind took it, you could imagine you heard the train
rounding sharp curves until finally no sound could be
distinguished. A small ring of white smoke went circling
up as the crew jumped forward again to reload, while the
three other guns were touched off. It all goes much quicker
than this; in fact, you just have time to watch the shell
from one gun go toward a white cloud when the next fel-
low speaks. There is considerable concussion, but you
expect something so much worse, that, after No. i has
spoken, you let your curiosity overcome your standofhsh-
ness. The crews race one another in reloading, so that it
is seldom more than a couple of minutes before all is
ready again. Two men rode on the platform while gun
No. 3 was fired, which is quite a feat.

Yesterday, just after breakfast, the Germans started
to send "380's" into the town for the first time since our
first Sunday here. The whole thing lasted about an hour
and a half. Wiswall, Dadmun, and Frenning were on duty
and had to make trips, but nothing went amiss. One of
them carried two nurses, one a girl of seventeen who had
arrived at a hospital in the town the night before. She was
very severely wounded and is in a doubtful condition.
The other was wounded in the face. They were brave
women and deserve all honor. A nurse from Pittsburgh
was in the same dugout at the time, and told us the cir-
cumstances. Three men in the same dugout were killed
outright and were buried this morning.

The Germans Bomb a Hospital

Dugny, September 4
It has become necessary to close the hospitals in this town
because of shell-fire, which did not spare them. Ours was
the last to empty its wounded, and this was finally accom-
plished yesterday morning. Of course, this left the plant
still here with most of the doctors and nurses and our-
selves. So we took ofif all the cars and prepared to enjoy

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our first night of rest, as we thought it would be! It was
the first clear, bright night that we have had for two weeks.
A full moon lit up the sky and earth, while the flares and
flashes from the trenches showed clearly over the ridges
in front. It was a glorious sight. We watched it from the
bridge for a while, and reluctantly turned in, when I was
suddenly awakened by our Lieutenant's voice on the
'phone — "Three cars wanted immediately in front of
the operating- tent ! " Bombs were falling! Our Chef had
heard the first ones, and being up, went into the next tent
and called out Squibb, Clynch, and Emmons. I got
dressed and went out to help them start the cars. It was
about midnight and the full moon still lit up our red
crosses, so that they could have been seen for a long dis-
tance. The German flying-machine was hovering just over-
head, while fusees and two searchlights were directed up
toward him to guide anti-aircraft gun-fire. In the mean-
while two more bombs dropped on the other side of the
hospital from us. Two of the cars were now ready; so we
started up toward the operating-barracks, when a fallen
telephone wire got entangled with both cars, one at a
time, causing some delay and bringing some oaths from
the drivers. The third car now joined us, and we backed
them up ready when the doctors put the stretchers in
with the wounded, who had received only first aid. There
were five of them — one captain and some non-commis-
sioned officers, who, at the sound of the Boche machine,
had come out of their tent to watch it, when a bomb
dropped just between their tent and the office twenty
feet or so away, with the fatal results just noted. Only
two of the cars were needed for these cases, and they soon
got off for the nearest hospital still open. We left the other
car standing where it was, and stepped into the barracks
for another fellow, when the sound of a motor kept com-
ing nearer and nearer and every one fell flat on his face.
An open abri, a narrow, deep trench in front of us, was soon
filled with doctors who popped up now and then from no-
where, producing a rather amusing effect. On the ground

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close by was the huge red cross of crushed stone, showing
the Boches that this was a hospital. There we found a
small hole, not two feet deep, and two steel helmets, one
of which had a clean quarter-inch hole through the lower
part. These helmets belonged to the two doctors who had
been killed and who had been doing wonderful work. Their
loss is consequently a hard one. The red cross was no pro-
tection to them, although they have treated Boche and
French wounded alike. The head doctor, who had his finger
cut by a splinter of one of the bombs, said to us : " The huge
crosses of red on the centre tents were also certainly visi-
ble on a night like last night." So, though they knew it
was a hospital, these abominable Germans deliberately
dropped bombs on it — eleven in all. Two dropped just
before the large centre tent, riddling it with holes from
one end to the other; another took off the end of a tent
in the rear; one more passed through the roof of the phar-
macy and tore a narrow hole about fifteen feet deep be-
fore exploding; while three fell not far from our tents,
two across the railroad tracks, and the third in back
of us.

We lay down again to sleep at about two, then another
call came at four to get a wounded man at a railroad cross-
ing on the other side of the town. So I got up the night
man on reserve and went along with him to help find the
blesse, whom we found in rather bad shape, as it had
taken some time to send a message to us, the telephone
wire having been cut. We took him to the hospital, and
got back at six-thirty in the morning.

The next night was again clear, a moonlit, glorious
September night. But every one was prepared this time.
Frenchmen about here began filling the dugouts as early
as six o'clock. Our crowd waited until after six-thirty
supper, and then began to scatter in all directions. Some
took blankets and coats and went into the fields to the
right, to spend the night. Others camped behind hay-
stacks over beyond the railroad tracks, while more slept
in the narrow trenches outside the tent, in which only

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three spent the night. But no one was so far away that he
could not have been found in a short time if cars were
needed. I slept in our tent near the telephone, or rather
slept most of the time. Aviators came over and at times
got very close to us, but dropped nothing so near as on
the previous night. Possibly, seeing that most of the hos-
pital tents were down, they decided that this place had
had enough.

A Dinner — Boche Prisoners

September 21
For a change of diet, "English" arranged a dinner for
Richmond and me in the village at a small cottage where
live two old Frenchwomen, who have been shelled from
their own district and so have settled down here. You
enter by a narrow alley, at the end of which are two doors,
one leading into the stable, which is part of the cottage,
while the other opens into the main room — kitchen, living-
and dining-room all in one. In the centre is a large table
with places set and goblets polished brightly, while at one
end is an open fireplace with the mantel a foot from the
low ceiling. On the hearth a small fire crackled and warmed
three-legged pots in which our dinner was cooking. Above
the table hung the wooden rack, familiar to these houses,
laden with lard and bread. On the sides were suspended
pots of ever}^ description, and in the corner opposite the
stairway leading to the wine-cellar stood a grandfather's
clock, which I have no doubt would be highly prized by
an American. One of the old women cooked over the fire,
while the other talked incessantly about all the noble
families who lived near their former residence before the
war. She had supplied them with milk, and so knew all
there was to be known about their afi'airs. Finally, when
the meal was ready, we found that we had an omelette,
green peas, chicken, lettuce, a chocolate pudding with
crackers, and, to finish, cofi"ee with cream, which is con-
sidered quite a treat and is served in glasses. Persuaded

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by "English," the talkative one dived into the cellar and
reappeared with a choice bottle of Burgundy. While at
coffee, she suddenly became nervous, running back and
forth into an outside room, for she had heard an aviator
overhead and knew it to be a Boche. So she packed her
belongings in a great handkerchief tied in a huge knot,
dumped from a box into her apron the money which
they had made selling eggs, beer, etc., to the soldiers, and
went into the stable, where she took refuge under the cow,
whence she finally came out long enough to allow us to
pay for our supper. The bill amounted to five francs each,
and it took her at least half an hour to figure it up.

September 24
We have just made an interesting visit to a French prison
camp for Germans in a fair-sized town near here. The
captain in charge led us along a high barbed-wire fence
to a gate guarded by two sentries. It was about noontime
in the camp, so the fifteen hundred or more Boches were
lined up in a column four wide, facing the large soup
pails. The French guards were careful that after the tin
mess kits had been once filled, the prisoners did not come
back for more. They sat about on the ground eating with
apparently much relish their steaming soup with macaroni
in it. They get coffee in the morning, and at lunch and at
supper a mess kit of this soup, which contains one vege-
table. Sometimes when they have been working hard,
boxes of "monkey" meat are divided among them. In
addition, they are given a liberal allowance of bread. The
prisoners seem to be of a low caste, and so probably eat
here as well as they would at home. Their cooks are Boche
prisoners; so if there is little variety in their food, it is
often the fault of their own cooks. These men were of all
ages, some very old, others young.

This camp, which is merely an open, bare field enclosed
by a high double fence of barbed wire, is a front one, a sort
of clearing-house in which the prisoners are gathered,
sorted, and sent to the interior where their quarters are

399

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

far more comfortable. They sleep in barracks, but have
neither beds nor blankets. Some are lucky enough to have
overcoats of their own, while the rest have ground sheets
which they carry over their shoulders all the time. Many
a button is missing, many a trouser leg patched, but
they are fed, have a place to sleep, and are "out of it,"
which is more important ; so " What more could you ask? "
— seems to be their mood. After that we thanked our
guides and left, bearing away with us the feeling that
the prisoners of war on this side of the lines were being
fairly treated.

Near Soissons, October i
The house we are in belongs to an old lady, who has lived
here for sixty-five years and who lets chicken, geese, and
a dog run loose in the courtyard ; and between them they
keep things lively. At first, the dog was as timid as the old
lady toward "the Americans"; but they soon got used
to us. The old lady now even makes the beds and brings
water. Since the war began, she tells us, she has had Eng-
lish, Australian, and French officers of all ranks quartered
with her, and as each one wanted his bed made differ-
ently, she says she never knows what to do. But now that
she has found out that we don't care how she makes the
beds, she has become all the more friendly to "those
easily pleased Americans."

A Successful Attack

Vauxrot, October 27 '
The French have made a successful attack here. We
worked with a French section, and carried about one-
third Boches. It was a revelation to see the way these
Boches were treated — with just as much consideration
as the French wounded. The stretcher-bearers saw that
they got bread and hot soup from the bufet and showed
no bitterness toward them at all. The stretchers of these
Germans were always surrounded by a crowd, including
many Americans, questioning them and joking about the

400

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SECTION THIRTY

Kaiser. All the Americans present naturally came away
with Boche helmets, gas-masks, caps, and all sorts of
things, much to the amusement of the French doctors.
You usually throw all these things away after a couple of
days, or when you move, though the gas-masks are worth
preserving because of their effectiveness. They are heavy,
but well made, and serve their purpose. The stretchers
are too heavy and complicated to be useful, and are char-
acteristic of the Boches.

Albert Edward MacDougall ^

* These extracts are from a personal diary.

r3»if^it

Ill

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

At the formation of new Section Six- Forty-Two — Old Thirty
as we still liked to call it — Chef Richmond immediately be-
came Lieutenant Richmond, Sous-Chef MacDougall, First-
Sergeant MacDougall, and J. Oliver Beebe, Sergeant. Late
November and early December were spent at Soissons, serving
the Hopital Militaire. On the 9th the Section went to Chacrise,
five miles to the south of Soissons, and was attached to the
22e Division d'infanterie, which consisted of the 19th, 62d, and
1 1 8th Regiments and the j^e Regiment d'artillerie. Here were
first met M. Petit, real if not nominal, head of the G.B.D. 22,
and M. I'Aumonier Bossuet, the Division Priest, who could
boast, but did n't, that every man in the Division was his
friend. On the 19th the Section went to Juvigny, north of
Soissons, where it remained until the 12th of March, serv-
ing postes in the sector between Coucy-le-Chateau and the
Vauxaillon-Pinon region.

Leaving here the Section slowly went with the rest of the
Division to Lagny, near Paris, supposedly for repos, but had
scarcely encamped when at 6 p.m. on the 21st of March the
alerte was received; at midnight orders to move; and at sunrise
movement in the direction of the great retreat of the Somme
began. Five days and five nights the Division worked, the
men almost without equipment or ammunition, and it aided
most effectually in the final arrest of the Hun on about the
29th. This was probably the hardest work which the Section
was called upon to do, though the costs were much less than
in the next retreat. The work done by the Section may be
judged by the seven individual citations received by the offi-
cers and four men.

From this battle the Division went to the Aisne front, stop-
ping en route at Vic-sur-Aisne and Braisne. The Section was
stationed April 29th at (Euilly, just north of the Aisne, serving
various postes on the Chemin des Dames. Here the Section
suffered the loss of its much-loved Lieutenant Ralph Richmond,
who went to take command of a pare and was replaced by
Lieutenant Brady.

A comfortable time was spent here during the following
weeks of spring. All day the 26th of May nothing went on out

402

SECTION THIRTY

of the ordinary. The General sent his Chief of Staff to Paris for
a twenty-four hour permission. Still all continued calm. At
six o'clock came the alerte. At midnight the barrage and the
gas, the most intense fire imaginable. At five o'clock the
Boches came over, and Section Six-Forty-Two, with what was
left of the Division, started the second great retreat, but not
until it had left four men, Wright, Thorpe, Al Brook, and
Murphy, and eight cars, in the hands of the enemy. Jack
Adams was wounded by a shell, which blew in the stone wall
of the cantonment at Fismes at noontime, after a morning of
most commendable work, James was seriously wounded and
captured later in the day; the car he was driving also went to
the enemy after not inconsiderable effort had been made to
save it. The Section retired, with the Division, through Fismes,
Fere-en-Tardenois, and crossed the Marne to be relieved at
Conde-en-Brie on the 31st of May, after the remaining eleven
cars from the Section had taken the last of the wounded from
the hospitals at Chateau-Thierry — the last transportation in
the town before its capture. At Montmirail, where we were
next located, the American troops passed us heading for Chi-
teau-Thierry to stem the tide of invasion.

From June 5 to 14 the Section was en repos at Marcilly-sur-
Seine. On the 14th, a three-days' convoy was started for Alsace.
The Division was assembled at La Thillot and then went in
line on the 21st in the Thann-Hartmannsweilerkopf-CoI-de-
Bussang sector — the Etat-Major going to Wesserling and
the Section and the G.B.D. to Ranspach. Here a most delight-
ful five weeks of beautiful summer were passed in reconquered
Alsace. Only one thing marred the general happiness and that
was the incessant changing of speed-bands. Here two of the
Section's most-liked and valued men left: "Ed" MacDougall
got his commission and took command of S.S.U. Five-Seventy-
Four, and "English," Marechal des Logis, was assigned to do
liaison work with the American Army. The latter was replaced
by Schoeler, long with Old Seventeen.

On September i convoy was made by easy stages to Brus-
son, near Vitry-le-Frangois, where we waited for the expected
attack in the Champagne. After the Saint-Mihiel drive, all
the high officers of the Division were taken up there in twelve
cars to observe the work of the Americans, which was con-
sidered to have been carried out in a most remarkable manner.

Then came a slow movement toward the front. On the 25th,
definite news of the attack came. On the 26th we were in line
at Souain, and at that point took place the first real advance
which the Section had enjoyed. It was a delightful sensation,

403

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

particularly for the officers and non-coms, as it was a relief from
much of the responsibility which came with the earlier retreats.

September 26 to October 6 was spent in General Gour-
aud's offensive, with numerous posies served in the region
of Souain, Somme-Py, Saint-Clement-a-Arnes, Saint-Etienne-
a-Arnes, Sainte Marie-4-Py, Ville-sur-Retourne, and Le Menil.
For services during these days the Section was honored by a
citation to the order of the Corps d'Armee. Also seven more
men received individual citations from the Division.

From October 16 to the 27th we were en repos at Trepail.
From October 27 until November 6 we went back with our
Division for a continuation of the Champagne-Ardennes
offensive. The Section cantonment was at Dricourt and it
served various pastes in the Attigny-Vouziers sector. It was
about this time that Sergeant Beebe was sent away to get his
commission and take command of S.S.U. Five-Seventy-Eight.
From November 6 to 10 the Section took part in the final rapid
advance of the Allies through Tourteron and Bouvellemont,
toward the Meuse. November 11 found it en repos at Saint-
Lambert. November 12 until the 23d it convoyed across
Northern France and Belgium via Flize, Carignan, and Isel.
From November 23 until December 11 it remained at Marte-
lange, in Belgium, and from the latter date until December 2'j
at Redange, in Luxembourg.

On December 27 and 28 it convoyed back to France and went
to Montmedy, where it remained until called into Base Camp
on February 18, 1919, preparatory to going home. Here the
time was wearily and expectantly passed until March 4, when
it went to Brest, en route for Camp Dix and demobilization.

Thus briefly ends the glorious history of S.S.U. Six-Forty-
Two, nee Thirty, and few moments, indeed, will ever be for-
gotten and few of the friendships lost, it is hoped, that were
started and made during those memorable months and years.

J. Oliver Beebe ^

^ Of Boston, Massachusetts; Harvard, '16; served with Section Thirty
of the Field Service, and as sergeant of Section Six- Forty-Two; subse-
quently a Lieutenant in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Section Seventy

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Robert A. Donaldson
II. Arthur J. Putnam
III. Robert A. Donaldson

SUMMARY

Section Seventy left Paris for May-en-Multien on July 8,
1917, and on July 14 came back to Paris to take over its section
of Fiat cars, then at Versailles, On July 16 it left Versailles en
convoi for Noyon. After a week here it went to Rollot, near
Montdidier, en repos with the 53d Division. On August 9 it
returned to Noyon, and on August 13 was attached to the 38th
Colonial Division at Bas-Beaurains. On August 20 it moved
with the Division to the Aisne front, being cantoned at Missy-
aux-Bois. On August 28 it moved to Sermoise, on the Aisne,
and its Division went into line directly in front of Fort Mal-
maison. The Section served pastes at Jouy, Aizy, and the Ferme
Hameret, just under the Chemin des Dames Plateau. Vailly
was the reserve poste, and Chassemy, and later Cerseuil were
the evacuation hospitals. On September 23 it went en repos for
a week at Ecuiry, near Septmonts, back of the Aisne, returning
to its old sector and cantonment on October i. It worked
there through the Fort Malmaison attack of October 23 until
November i, when the Fiats were abandoned and the men
enlisted in the U.S. Army and took over the Fords of S.S.U.
Eighteen, becoming Section Six-Thirty-Six.

.^S-rO

y-tC ><.^t

Section Seventy

Des terres d'Alsace aux plaines de la Flandre,
De la rive du Rhin jusqu'au bord de I'Escaut,
Autour des trois couleurs qui forment ton drapeau,
Tes enfants sont debout, France, pour te defendre!

Henri de Regnier

Crouy — NoYON — Chemin des Dames

Section Seventy was officially formed at May-en-
Multien on July 13, 19 17, composed at that time of thirty-
six men, the larger part of whom were from a Leland
Stanford unit which went over in June on the Rocham-
beau. We left Crouy on the morning of July 14, going
first to Paris, where we were joined by nine men who had
come over on La Touraine, and going the next day to
Versailles, took over a section of Fiat cars. The Section
was under the leadership of Arthur J. Putnam, formerly
of Section Nineteen.

On July 16 we left Versailles, and, making a detour of
Paris, went out, through Senlis and Compiegne to Noyon.
After waiting a week in Noyon we were attached to the
53d Division, then back en repos at Rollot, near Montdi-
dier. We stayed with the 53d until August 3, when it

407

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

left for the front — and left us behind. We were very in-
dignant until the French Automobile Service informed
us that under the new " economiser r essence'' regime, it
was forbidden for an ambulance section to follow its
division over a distance of more than two armies — unless
some other army had crying need for more ambulances.
As the Division was going to Craonne, we were detached.
So we again went back to Noyon to wait, and on August
13 were attached to the famous 38th French Colonial
Division, then en repos near by. We were justly proud of
this Division, which comprised the 4th Zouaves, the Colo-
nial Regiment du Maroc, the 4th Mixte, the 8th Tirailleurs,
and a detachment of Somalis — regiments already wear-
ing the fourrageres of the Croix de Guerre and Medaille
Militaire, and to whose famed standards many more
decorations were to be added before the war was ended.

On August 20 the Division moved to the Aisne, and
shortly thereafter took up positions on the Chemin des
Dames. We were cantoned at Sermoise, about ten kilo-
metres east of Soissons, which city we were able to visit
often; and when the Division went into line, our pastes
were in Vailly, Aizy, Jouy, and the Ferme Hameret.

On September 7 we were visited by United States re-
cruiting officers, who were full of promises. Thirty-six
out of the forty-five in the Section enlisted in the newly
created U.S. Army Ambulance Service with the French
Army, while most of those who did not enlist left, in
the latter part of October, for Paris or America, and
many of them entered, later, various other branches of
the French or American armies.

On September 17 the Section moved back with the
Division to Ecuiry for a short rest. To Ecuiry, too, some
of us came back, still conducteurs pour la France, after
Foch's counter-attack of July 18, 1918 had driven the
Germans from the Aisne-Marne salient.

On October i, 1918, our Division again went into line
in its old sector. We gave up the Ferme Hameret paste
as our Division now occupied a shorter front. One in-

408

SECTION SEVENTY

teresting change was the moving of the hospital from
Chassemy, about seven kilometres from the lines, to
Cerseuil, on the hill above Braisne, about eighteen kilo-
metres from the line. German airmen had dropped notes
in which it was stated that the Germans intended to shell
the district around there and would shell the hospital
if it were not moved. The French agreeably moved the
hospital farther back and installed in its place a barbed-
wire pen for German prisoners! Needless to say, the
Germans did not carry out their threat.

On October IJ the artillery bombardment preparatory
to the attack began, when it was estimated that 3800
guns were used covering a front of eleven kilometres.
At five-fifteen on the morning of the 23d, the infantry
advanced, at seven all the ambulances were called out,
and the pastes were soon crowded to overflowing. Most
of the wounded who were able to walk went down to a
point slightly below Vailly, where they were taken en
masse by camions to the hospital.

The 38th Division came out of line during the night
of October 30, and the following morning a decoration
of various members of the Service de Sante was held at
Vailly, in which seven of our members received the
Croix de Guerre. Then on October 31, Section Seventy
was broken up. The Fiats were turned in at the pare at
Vierzy, and the following day we left for Paris, twenty-
four of us to go out and take over old Section Eighteen,
eleven to fill in Section Sixteen, and the rest to scatter.

Robert A. Donaldson ^

^ Of Denver, Colorado; Leland Stanford, '17; served in Section Seventy
of the Field Service, and continued in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service until
the Armistice. Author of Turmoil, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1919, and
with Lansing Warren, En Repos and Elsewhere, Houghton Mifflin Company,
1-918.

Lieutenant Gibily

Sermoise, September 3
We have been doing front work now for about a week and
have had a good try-out in a very interesting sector. It
is a great satisfaction to be doing something at last and
our morale has gone up several points since we started
in. The fellows take to front work like ducks to water,
and if the Fiats only hold out, I am sure that we shall
come through with flying colors.

Lieutenant Prevost has been replaced by Lieutenant
Gibily, the officer in charge of the French Ambulance
section we relieved when we joined the 38th Division.
Lieutenant Gibily has been with this Division for over
two years and seems to be very well liked by every one who
has known him. The fellows like him as much as I do, and,
despite the fact that he can hardly speak a word of Eng-
lish, he always manages to have a pleasant word for every-
body, and when he can't make himself understood in
either French or English, he acts out whatever he has
to say in pantomime, which is enough to bring down the
house; and best of all, his sense of humor never fails him.
Although in civilian life he is connected with a wholesale
chemical company, his chief interest in life seems to be
nineteenth-century French poetry, and his most vicious
boast is that he knows ten thousand lines of verse by
heart including all of Cyrano de Bergerac. His present aim
is to learn English, and before coming to the Section he
supplied himself with two second-hand textbooks. The
one which he prefers and from which he studies con-
stantly must have been written about the time of Shake-
speare or shortly after, and to hear him read off this obso-
lete English in the most serious way and with an accent
all his own, is funny enough. I have been doing my best
to help him out, but it is a rather hard job. In order that

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you won't get a very one-sided impression of the man, I
ought to add that he is a fine-looking chap with a very
military manner, has served in both the infantry and
artillery early in the war and has been badly wounded
in the leg. Also he has been decorated four times.

Sermoise is not a village, but only the 'remains of one,
and lies on the main road between Soissons and Reims.
All of the houses have suffered and many have been
razed to the ground. Of the church only a part is left
standing, and that, with its whitewashed interior laid
bare, looks like a great, pale, ruined monument of deso-
lation. The men are quartered, as at Rollot, in barracks
just outside the town, and we have two near-by houses,
or rather hovels, one for a workshop and another for a
kitchen. Gibily and I occupy a little dugout near by, a
remnant of the days when Sermoise was much nearer the
front than it is now.

Arthur J. Putnam ^

^ Of Deposit, New York; Cornell; served in Section Nineteen of the
Field Service; Chef of S.S.U. Seventy; Lieutenant of Section Eighteen, and
of Section Six-Thirty-Six, U.S.A. Ambulance Service, under the Army; later
Captain commanding a Pare.

Ill

In "la France Reconquise"

Noyon, July 19, 1917
This town, about ten miles back of the front in a part of
France which the French call "/a Frayice reconquise,'' was
regained last spring during Hindenburg's "strategic re-
treat." It was in German hands for a long time. Some of
the population who did not get away in 19 14 remained.
A good part of them, however, fled before the German in-
vasion, and only now, in 1917, are they getting back to
their homes, their shops, and their little pieces of land.
When the Germans left, they took all the gold ornaments
out of the cathedral, along with everything else of value
they could lay hands on. They had started to take the
chimes, but had so much trouble in trying to get the
bells down out of the spires that they had to leave them.
They had begun, too, boring holes for powder charges in
order to blow the place up. But the French cavalry got
in here much sooner than the Boches expected; so the
latter left in an immense hurry, and had to abandon,
just outside the town, a number of cumbersome wagon-
loads of stuff which they had stolen. They carried off,
however, all men and boys between the ages of sixteen
and fifty. What household goods they could n't take
with them, they smashed up with axes. All edibles were
taken, and the peasants had all their chickens, cows,
rabbits, etc., stolen. But the most wanton act of all was
the cutting down or encircling of all the orchards. Many
of the shade trees, the poplars which line the roads, and
the like, were similarly destroyed — a thing which could
have no possible military value, particularly when the
trees were only encircled and not cut down. All the water
was poisoned, and much of it is still unfit to drink. Many
of the houses, especially those along the banks of the
small stream which runs through the place, were blown

412

SECTION SEVENTY

up. Innumerable traps were set to kill or maim unsuspect-
ing soldiers or civilians — grenades which exploded when
the door was opened, and the like. The worst thing they
did was to take off numbers of young girls and women
with them when they retreated.

The thing that astounds one the most is the vast
amount of underground tunnelling done. Everything
from the front-line trenches back seems to be connected
by tunnels. In the front lines there are deep dugouts
every little way, which go down some twenty feet under-
ground, and are protected by alternate layers of timber
and earth on top. There are also very deep special cement
dugouts for the storing of munitions. The lines of commu-
nication toward the rear are quite as remarkable. The
whole network becomes a vast maze, burrowed and
tunnelled under, until I should think it would be utterly
incomprehensible. Scattered all around between the
front lines and the town are very cleverly concealed
machine-gun positions, with tunnels leading from them
to the trench positions, so that one could go into them
without being observed by the enemy.

Lassigny itself is literally burrowed like a prairie-dog
town with its labyrinths of ahris and tunnels. Every
cellar has been deepened and reinforced from the top — •
usually with timbers and rocks of the fallen walls.

One of the most tragic things I have seen in France was
a little shop in Lassigny. Although the house had re-
ceived no direct hit, the roof had been blown open in
many places by the force of near-by concussions and the
tiles ripped off, while the interior had pretty much dis-
appeared — probably for firewood, and there was left
only a crude earth floor. The place had formerly been
a little cafe, and now that the Germans had gone, the
woman, who, with her husband, had once run it, had
come back to find almost nothing left, not even doors or
windows, for long ago they had been smashed out. Her
husband and sons were fighting in the army. But, with
the fortitude that is French, she had started out to set

413

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

up her shop again, even in these miserable surroundings.
A few rough army tables and some benches had been pro-
cured from somewhere and were set on the bare ground
just inside the door. In what was left of one of the rooms
Madame had set up a stove. Her barrels of wine and her
supplies were placed around inside. She and her sister
did the cooking and serving for whoever happened to
come that way — ourselves among them. And the re-
markable thing was that she could turn out a very good
meal. Somehow one would expect persons in this sort
of situation to be more or less gloomy or morose. But
these poor people, driven from their homes so long ago,
are not. They are happy, are glad to be back — satisfied,
I suppose, even to be alive. This endurance and bravery
of the French women in the face of the most terrible
hardships is something splendid. This improvised cafe,
with its rusted, . battered sign of a walking rabbit, well
punctured with holes, and these women who had come
back with willingness and a smile to try to get together
and rebuild the work of a lifetime, will always represent
to me the essence of the spirit of France.

In the village we met a couple of old poilus who in-
sisted on showing us the town, particularly the graveyard,
which was on a rise in back of the place. The Germans
had strung barbed wire through it, and it being a com-
manding position, had placed a nest of machine guns
there. A number of French shells had also lit there,
smashing up a number of the graves. The exhibit, how-
ever, was the fact that the Germans had dug into about
half the graves and removed the lead linings from the
coffins, as they are in great need of lead. Some time just
before the war, the Mayor of Lassigny had died and been
buried in a vault. The Germans broke into it, chiselled a
small hole, about four inches wide and a foot and a half
long, in the side of the steel casket, and then reached in
and removed the rings from the dead man's fingers. There
was no doubt. The telltale hole above the hand spoke
louder than words. Kultur is a great thing.

414

SECTION SEVENTY

These same Germans took the statues of all the saints
from the church and had put them in a graveyard for
German dead, just on the edge of the town back of a large
wall. When they left they blew up the church.

A General and a Refugee

Later — Sermoise
Lance went over to visit the old castle at Septmonts a
couple of days ago, and while in that town he met a bent,
old peasant woman who was a refugee from Craonne,
where she had continued living, close as it was to the
lines, after the German occupation. When the French
attacked so terribly there this spring, the Boches were
forced to retire, but not until they had rounded up the
civilians and herded them out of the place. But somehow
in the scramble this old woman got lost and took refuge
in a cellar, where she stayed during the bombardment by
both sides, being afraid to come out. Finally, the French
found her in a deplorable state, and took her back to the
Etat-Major of the Corps d'Armee, where, she said, the
General asked her various facts about the Germans.
"And then, monsieur," she said to Lance as the tears
streamed down her face, "the General himself took me
beside him in his big automobile, drove me all the way
down here, and installed me in the home of some of his
friends — moi, I rode beside the great General all the
way!" It was the proudest moment of her life; and it
shows, too, the fineness and inherent kindness, even in
the littlest things, that is continually encountered in the
French, from the most lowly poihi up to the highest
officer.

• ••••••••••

Preparing for the Attack

Sermoise, October 9
This sector is livening up considerably. The other night
a camion convoy came up as far as the road between

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Aizy and Jouy — a very bad spot, and was engaged in un-
loading some munitions when a shell came in and wounded
two of their fellows, Lamont and Thompson. They ap-
parently did n't know about our poste, a few hundred
metres away in Aizy, for they sent clear down to the
reserve poste in Vailly for a car. There was an awful lot
of excitement for a while, for about all the news we got
was that two Americans, supposedly of our Section, had
been wounded. One of the cars went up and brought them
back. Lamont was very badly hurt, having had his hand
cut off, and was suffering greatly.

New cannon, machine guns, and trench mortars come
into the sector every night. The roads are jammed and
packed from dark until one and two in the morning with
convoys, and driving is terribly hard. At every moment
we get held up on the road, and usually at some of the
worst spots, such as "Suicide Corner" at Aizy, or the
gendarme poste at the cross-roads on the hill or down by
the railroad track between these two places in the valley.
In addition, there is always a fog toward morning, which
makes it next to impossible to see anything, and we just
have to go groping along yelling, ''ddroiter' hoping we
won't bump anything. Artillery caissons often appear
very suddenly out of the fog. If we hear anything defi-
nitely, which is seldom (for the guns are never entirely
still), we give a quick flash with a pocket-light on the left
side of the car to show our position.

Sermoise, Wednesday, October 17
It is wonderfully fine October weather, with a tinge of cold
in the air. The sunshine has broken through and dispelled,
little by little, the crisp haze that lay over the land. The
sky is intensely blue with great fleecy clouds floating
high, and the mud that we have been wallowing in for
the past week Is fast drying. So we have been living a very
enjoyable life — when not on duty at poste! Nearly every
one has made a purchase of a gasoline vapor stove. At
night, in groups of four or five, we take our grub to our

416

SECTION SEVENTY

cars and eat there, and afterwards toast bread over the
stove, get out the jam to go on it, and make chocolate.
It is quite warm and comfortable inside with all the doors
closed and the stove going; but outside during the past
week it has been miserable. We were up to our necks in
mud, slippery, without bottom, and ever-present. Nearly
every car had to have some aid in pushing when it left,
as our parking ground under these trees has become a
veritable sea of boue. Nobody is sleeping in his car now
because of the cold at night, and we only have half a
barrack, which makes us very crowded.

This evening the fire of the artillery has greatly In-
creased. The big railway guns and those on the canal
boats are all in position. The thunder of the cannon this
evening sounded like waves in a high sea running against
a rocky shore — long intervals of low, rushing sound,
and then heavy, reverberating crashes. All day our bar-
rack has been vibrating and shaking from the rush of
sound and volume of air. One is lulled to sleep by the
monotonous beating, just as if he were on the seashore.

Sermoise, October i8
Woke up early this morning to hear it raining! More
mud, more gloom. The weather cleared a little after noon,
and while the low clouds were still wavering, the " sausage
balloons" went up, and soon countless aeroplanes ap-
peared. The sky was soon clear and the sun bright, though
a fine October haze still rendered indistinct the distant
hills. Then, indeed, with the planes to spot for them, did
the guns cut loose, filling the air with a continual set of
reverberations — punctuated by the medium-sized guns,
which boomed dully with a rush of wind, such as one
experiences when going through a tunnel on a fast train,
and split every now and then by the crashing of the great
marine or railway artillery.

About a quarter past five, just after the sun had set
behind the hills on this side of the Aisne — although
it was still shining with long, slanting rays on the high

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

plain beyond — we went out on the heights to view the
spectacle. The day was indescribably wonderful — the
October haze mingling blue with the smoke of a thousand
guns and streaking into the dim distance to the wooded
hills up beyond the Aisne. At our feet was spread out the
ruined village of Sermoise, picturesque and beautiful,
the spire of its ruined church rising above it, its gray
walls and battered buildings standing out in cameo-like
distinctness, and its red roofs — where there were still
roofs! — seeming redder than ever in this light. The pop-
lars that line the Grande Route were splotched with the
yellow of the falling leaves.

Down in the valley of the Aisne and on up the ravines
toward the lines the guns flashed everywhere to the ac-
companiment of the rumble, rising or falling, increasing
or subsiding. We could see the great railway guns be-
tween Missy-sur- Aisne and Conde firing — first a long
red flash, then a great burst of gray smoke, and finally,
three or four seconds later, a deafening, thunderous
boom that seemed to tear asunder the whole air.

We walked up on the hill with a good pair of field-
glasses, in hopes of seeing again the shell-bursts about
Fort Malmaison. But it was too dark. However, the
bird's-eye view of the whole attack was marvellous — a
sea of red flashes below us, red signal rockets occasionally
sailing up over the lines, and the interminable pageant
of star-shells commencing at dusk. Back of us in the west
was the last vestige of a red sunset, with purple clouds
above that shaded off into the fading blue sky. In front
of us the "sausages" hung with a haze about them that
made them look even larger — huge, porpoise-like, calm,
their sides bright in high air in the last vestige of sunlight.
Then darkness came and still they hung there — huge,
monstrous bats above the scene of battle.

It is now late at night, and the artillery still continues
its rolling, rushing, surging noise, and the sky is ever lit
with the lightning-like, merging flashes of the guns, the
flicker of the star-shells.

418

SECTION SEVENTY

The Attack on Malmaison, October 23, 191 7

Sermoise, October 25
Am back at camp again after fifty-two hours of service
at pastes, with probably not more than twelve or four-
teen hours of sleep, snatched at odd intervals, during the
whole attack. For the first twenty-four hours the whole
Section was "rolling " ; then the cars which were on duty
the night before the attack were sent back to camp, and
as they came up again the rest were relieved. I have just
got up this evening after sleeping all afternoon, and feel
in fairly good shape.

At eight on the morning of the 23d — the attack began
at five — the wounded began to stream down the roads
to the pastes — zouaves, bleeding beneath their hasty
bandages, but the proud fire of victory still in their eyes;
childish, black, wounded Somalis with uncomprehending
pain written in their faces; men with arm wounds help-
ing men with foot wounds; and wounded Frenchmen sup-
porting still more badly wounded Germans, and vice-
versa. There is a camaraderie of suffering that knows no
law and no country. All, all came down the roads lead-
ing from the front — human wrecks, the jetsam of the
battle. The pastes were crowded to overflowing, and still
they came. They staggered in and sat on the fallen stones
about the paste, their heads in their hands, waiting to be
tended and ticketed and sent back; they came in wheel-
stretchers from the front, and they came in horse ambu-
lances from the spots where they had fallen in the lines.
Frequently they were dead when taken out at the paste,
and were carried aside to a yard that was used for a
morgue. All those who could walk had to do so; had to go
farther down until they were picked up by the camians.
During the morning we could only take cauches inside
the cars. The assis had to crowd outside, on the fenders,
on the hoods, anywhere. Several times we took as many
as twelve in one car. German and Frenchman went
alike — all according to the seriousness of the wounds.

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

In addition to this the roads were frequently packed
with lines of gray, haggard prisoners — hundreds of
them. The first bunch that came down the doctors grabbed
and put to work to help the tired brancardiers, and from
then on they loaded all our cars. They soon "caught on,"
and worked willingly and well. The pastes overflowed and
the doctors were tired and overworked and half-sick
from the strain of the days before the attack. The am-
bulances were backed up, filled, and immediately left,
and others soon rolled up to take their places. The road
to the hospital was like a section convoy. You passed
countless ambulances coming and going in an almost
steady line. The hospital at Cerseuil was soon over-
crowded. The traffic got jammed; there was a line of
ambulances half a mile long waiting to unload ; and often
you had to wait an hour before you could get through
the mess. It was a struggle to get stretchers, and all of
them were bloody and uncleaned.

The first day we kept going without tiring at all, sus-
tained by the excitement of the affair, the wounded
streaming back on the roads, the prisoners, and the con-
tinual roar of the guns about us. Such excitement keys
you up to such a point that you don't care what happens;
somehow your fear is lost ; you scarcely duck when shells
come over — a thing that is almost involuntary in or-
dinary times. If I should be killed, I would want to be
killed at a time like this, when your heart is full to the
overflowing, your nerves keyed up to the limit, when
victory and excitement are in the air, when the suffering
of others would make you count your own as nothing,
and sacrifice would seem a privilege.

Toward the end of the second day we were about all
in, and all the fellows who were on duty before the attack
began were sent back for rest. The principal reason we
had been kept going was because Pierre, our cook, came
up to the front with a camp stove, a coffee boiler, and the
canned food, and worked day and night, with the aid
of the cognac supply, and served us something hot every

420

J a

SECTION SEVENTY

time we rolled in. He fell asleep against his stove once,
but was shortly awakened when the wood under him
smouldered and caught fire. "Bluebeard," the mechanic,
put him out with the water bucket. He has been quite
funny the whole time, and continually called out to him-
self: ''En avant toujour s, Pierre T'

By the way, toward the end of the attack the Medecin
Chef at Jouy got disgusted with the French ambulances,
and sent down word for them to send up no more as long
as there were any American ones — which we considered
quite a compliment.

Sermoise, October 27
Yesterday was my birthday, and I celebrated by going
up to Fort Malmaison, It was a gray day. The ground
around the lines and in No Man's Land is nothing but
a series of overlapping shell-holes — a waste. It looks,
as far as the eye can see, as if it had been turned over
time and again by a giant plough. The German first lines
are so battered that it is almost impossible to tell them
from the surrounding terrain. Nothing is left of the
barbed wire save torn and buried tangles here and there.
There is not a vestige of the Chemin des Dames. In fact
to walk at all you have to pick your way along the ridges
of overturned earth between the overlapping shell-holes.
The world on this plateau, as far as the eye can reach, is
nothing but chaos. The marvel is how the attacking
troops themselves ever advanced over it.

An amusing incident occurred to-day with Davis as
principal actor. He was going up to Fort Malmaison for
a visit when he ran into the General of the Army, Gen-
eral Maistre, who was in charge of the attack, and his
staff. One of the staff came over to him and asked him
the inevitable ''Anglais?'' " Americain," he replied. At
this General Maistre burst forth in praise and rushed
over and shook Davis by the hand, saying something
which had the general trend of "Americain — conducteur

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

d ^ambulance — tres hon — bon service — toujour s au front,''
— I suppose adding the usual line about ''mefiance de
danger — beaucoup de bombardement — sang-froid — ad-
miration de tons — pastes avancees tres encombrees."

Vierzy, October 30
This has been a day of full hearts! In the first place, the
Section is disbanded, and we have moved up here to
Vierzy to the pare, where we have turned in our Fiat
voitures. To-morrow we are to go to Paris, where the
Section will be broken up, part of us taking over Section
Eighteen, the rest going to Section Sixteen, and the
others who did not join the Army scattering to the four
winds.

Robert A. Donaldson ^

1 The above are extracts from an unpublished diary.

Note. — When the U.S.A. Ambulance Service took over the Field Serv-
ice sections, Section Seventy, which up to this time had used ambulances
loaned by the French Army, was disintegrated. The officers and twenty-four
men of the Section were transferred to the Field Service cars of old Section
Eighteen, which a little later was renumbered Six-Thirty-Six. Eleven mem-
bers of the original Section Seventy were attached to Field Service Section
Sixteen, which became, under the U.S. Army, Section Six-Thirty-Four.

Section Thirty-One

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Kent Dunlap Hagler
II. C. C. Battershell
III. Gordon F. L. Rogers

SUMMARY

Section Thirty-One left the training-camp at May-en-Mul-
tien July 24, 191 7, and after getting their cars in Paris, proceeded
via Vitry-le-Frangois to Bar-le-Duc. After a few days it left
there for the little village of Erize-la-Petite on the road to Ver-
dun. Here the Section was attached to a division, and on Au-
gust 10 left for Recicourt, which village was its base during the
Verdun attack. Postes were served in the sector of the Bois
d 'Avocourt and Hill 304. The Section was relieved on August
18, and went back to Erize. On September 13 it was attached
to the 14th Division, and shortly afterward enlisted in the
U.S.A. Ambulance Service, becoming Section Six-Forty-Three.

Section Thirty-One

What calls to the heart, and the heart has heard,

Speaks, and the soul has obeyed the word,

Summons, and all the years advance.

And the world goes forward with France — with France?

Who called?

"The Flags of France!"

Grace E. Channing

May-en-Multien to Bar-le-Duc

Section Thirty-One began unceremoniously on July
24, 1 91 7, with the publication of the list of drivers who
had been receiving instruction at the old mill of May-en-
Multien. The following morning the Section left the mill
for Paris, to take out the Ford ambulances which had
been donated to the Service by generous members of the
New York Cotton Exchange. Here we first met Chej
C. C. Battershell, an old Section Thirteen man. Another
day was spent in adding final equipment to the cars, and
on the morning of July 27 the Section left for Bar-le-Duc
and "points north." Finally, on July 31, we left Bar-le-
Duc for Erize-la- Petite to await assignment to a Division.

Erize-la-Petite is a little village of some thirty ex-
houses strung out along the "Sacred Way" to Verdun,
about twenty kilometres north of Bar-le-Duc, and which
received its share of "strafing" during the Battle of the

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Marne. Here the fellows found quarters in one of the less
damaged barns, which proved to be an entomologist's
paradise. Here we waited for twelve days, bathing, play-
ing ball, putting a final polish on the cars, and watching
the " Broadway and 34th Street " traffic flow through the
little town.

This traffic in itself deserves a word in passing. Just
north of Erize the great highway begins to branch out
into the various roads leading to the Verdun front.
Through the town runs the main road from Bar over
which the greater part of the troops and supplies going
to Verdun passed. It was the privilege of the Section to
observe this road for many days before the fall attack of
191 7, when cannon of every calibre, from the tiny trench
"37's" to the huge eight-wheeled "220" mortars, cavalry,
engineers, pontoons, artillery, ambulances, ravitaillement,
mitrailleuses, passed by, singly or in convoy — a steady
stream of every conceivable means of conveyance from
Rolls-Royces to donkeys. But these were only incidental
to the real traffic of the road — the endless lines of troop-
laden camions pressing forward or coming back. And
"endless" is no idle figure, for during days after days
they passed in double line, a camion every fifteen yards,
twenty-five men to the machine, hour in, hour out, sol-
diers all gray with mud or dust, sometimes singing and
sometimes grave, but with an ever-ready greeting for
''les americains,'' if any of our fellows were in sight.

At first this greeting was returned as regularly as it
was given ; but after a few hours one's very arm became
tired, and finally we only watched the trains with half-
indifference, on the lookout for refugees, "75's" or what-
not, that might be sandwiched in between the trucks.
Lessening of interest in the camions or their contents,
however, was somewhat replaced by the sobering —
rather, even depressing — effect of watching what seemed
like half the men of the world on their way to battle, or
of being awakened for a moment late at night or in the
early dawn and to hear still the swish and rush of the

426

SECTION THIRTY-ONE

passing camion trains, regular as the waves on a lonely
shore. It gave one for the first time some appreciation of
the immensity of the war.

A little later was confirmed the rumor, to which the im-
mense traffic lent weight, that a general attack was forth-
coming on the whole Verdun front. It was with the great-
est delight that the Section learned of its attachment to
the 25th Division to do front work during this event. So
on the evening of August 10 the men were put through
a rigid gas-mask inspection, received final instructions,
and early the following morning we started to join the
troops holding the trenches in the Verdun sector in front
of Avocourt and to the left of Hill 304.

Quarters were first found in a military barracks at
Ville-sur-Cousances well beyond the range of fire; but
that the pastes might be more accessible, it was deemed
advisable later in the day to move forward to R6cicourt
where the fellows were housed in an ahri — an old wine
cellar — protection necessitated by the daily shelling
which the Germans accorded the town. Here the Sec-
tion remained as long as it was with the 25th Division.

Recicourt — Bois d'Avocourt — Hill 304

The pastes which were served during the preparation for
the attack were all in the Bois d'Avocourt which covered
the rolling ground before Recicourt and served to con-
ceal the largest part of the artillery of both the Avocourt
and Hill 304 sectors of the line. As far out in these woods
as it was possible for a car to remain with reasonable
safety was ''Paste 2," where two cars waited for blesses,
the greater part of whom were carried from here, or, on
a call, from the other forward pastes. These were "P. J.
Gauche,'' forward and to the left of "P. 2," and "P. J.
Drait " and "P. 3 " to the right, which were too "warm "
and too scantily protected at that time to warrant a car
remaining longer than was just necessary for loading the
wounded. These four pastes spread out fanlike in front
of a fifth, "P. 4," which, though somewhat to the rear

427

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

and primarily intended as a station for the relief cars
of the outposts, nevertheless furnished an appreciable
number of wounded engineers and artillerymen. All of
these blesses were evacuated to the triage at Brocourt.
The roads connecting the various pastes, despite the
constant reparation of shell-holes and clearance of fallen
trees and wagon debris, were very bad, and, what was
worse, were quite black at night. If there was any moon,
it was always hidden by clouds — and overhanging trees,
which lined almost the whole of the way, and shrouded
the major part of any illumination furnished by the star-
shells or constant cannonading. Furthermore, during
the first few days, through lack of familiarity with both
the French language and the route, there was an epi-
demic of lost roads. One car spent a heated two hours
wandering through the Bois-de-Hesse, while another,
in broad daylight, ran past the poste at "P. /. Gauche''
and almost succeeded in reaching the trenches before it
was stopped by some astonished officers. Nor did our
troubles stop here ; for later, even when the men became
better acquainted with the route, the cars, as soon as it
was dark, seemed to develop an uncanny magnetic at-
traction for ditches or ammunition wagons, of which
there were legions.

Gas and Misfortunes

The cars served the pastes without serious misfortune
until the French bombardment reached its height on the
evening of August 13. Until then the German reply had
been rather haphazard and desultory, but at about seven
o'clock the Boches began a more concerted attack in-
augurated by an extremely heavy general high-explosive
fire which continued until about ten-thirty. Then came
a rain of gas-shells, which did not abate until well past
midnight and which was followed in turn by a second
salvo of high explosives. The night was rainless and fairly
calm, so that the heavy, poisonous gases, "mustard,"
"chocolate," chlorine, and a new gas which burned the

428

SECTION THIRTY-ONE

flesh, clung close to the trees and underbrush and settled
in dense fogs in the little valleys between the low hills
over the whole of the Bois d 'Avocourt. The French can-
non were almost silenced that night ; but morning brought
some relief in the form of a light breeze, and the batteries
gradually reopened fire, to continue the preparation for
the attack which turned out so successfully.

But that gas attack spelt the nemesis of the service of
Section Thirty-One with the 25th Division. Mills and
Loomis had been on call at the outpost during the eve-
ning and at eleven o'clock were both sent to " P. J. Droit "
for some wounded engineers. When the blesses had been
found, both of our men started for the triage; but in the
meantime, at a crossroads in one of the little valleys be-
tween the outposts and "P. 4," an ammunition wagon
train had been smashed during the high-explosive fire
earlier in the evening, blocking the road with debris, and
before the way could be cleared, the gas attack began,
when the drivers of the ravitaillement and ammunition
wagons, forced to cut loose their horses and find what
shelter they could, blocked the road until daylight. Into
this mess ran Mills and Loomis with their blesses, Mills
badly damaging his car in the dark before he could dis-
cover the heaped-up wagons and dead animals. As soon
as they had determined the extent of the blockade and
being unacquainted with any road by which it might be
circumvented, they decided to find shelter for their blesses
and if possible send for relief. They discovered an artillery
abri for the wounded, but could find no means of com-
munication either to "P. 4" or to Recicourt and so re-
mained until morning with their men. After waiting until
past midnight without word, the Chef had a presenti-
ment that the outpost drivers might be in difficulty, and
so decided to investigate with the aid of the relief cars
at " P. 4." But it proving impossible to find a way about
in the heavy gas fog, to say nothing of assisting a possible
damaged car beyond, the squad returned to "P. 4" to
await daylight.

429

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Meanwhile at Recicourt a call for special cars came
by telephone from the outposts. Bingham had returned
earlier in the evening from a call a little beyond "P. 4"
with a report of the extent of the gas, and so, uninformed
of the seriousness of the obstruction, though cognizant of
the general condition of the road, Sous-Chef Mueller or-
ganized a squad of five cars, to answer this special call.
When, however, this squad reached the blockade, they
too realized the hopelessness of the situation, and while
the men did finally succeed in climbing over the dead
horses and wagon debris, leaving the cars behind, the
gas was so bad that they, too, before they could return,
were forced to seek shelter in an abri. At daybreak the
squad, by using an artillery road to circumvent the ob-
struction, succeeded in bringing all of the wounded, un-
harmed, to the triage. By nine o'clock that morning the
engineers had cleared a way, regular runs were reestab-
lished, and we were congratulating ourselves on our sin-
gular good fortune, for apparently the drivers on service
the previous night had escaped unharmed, when dur-
ing the afternoon they began to suffer extreme nausea,
cramps, and flesh burns, and by evening were quite ill.
In fact, over half the Section was thrown out of service,
and despite the assistance of Section Seventeen and les-
sening of the work the following day, the men were too
exhausted or ill to carry on much longer; so on August 17
Lieutenant Maillard asked that the Section be relieved.

The following morning another section arrived as re-
lief and Section Thirty-One returned to Erize-la-Petite
for an indefinite repos. During the afternoon Dr. Gluge
very kindly came down from the hospital at Chaumont
to give the men an examination, and while he pro-
nounced their condition serious, he said that with atten-
tion all would successfully recover without harmful after-
effects. Six men were ordered to the hospital, while the
remaining sick, who were not so badly affected, reported
for daily treatment only ; and at the end of two weeks
all but two were on their feet again.

430

SECTION THIRTY-ONE

En Repos Again

In the meantime we learned of the fall to the French of
Avocourt, Hill 394, Hill 344, and the resistance of the
impregnable Mort Homme, and during the following
week the "Sacred Way" was again crowded with traffic;
but now the camions were full of prisoners and the re-
turning victorious French, ever joyous, and loaded with
souvenirs of the attack.

Time dragged in Erize for a while, but the men recu-
perating in a splendid manner, soon the old ball games,
trips to Bar or Rembercourt, or lazy observances of the
traffic, became the order of the day. Twice Boche avions
attempted to bomb Bar-le-Duc, and on August 26 did
bomb a near-by camp of Bulgarian road-menders and
even honored little Erize with a machine-gun fusillade.
But aside from these diversions, little disturbed the calm
until September 13, when the Section learned that it had
been attached to the 14th Division, which it was later
to serve at Mort Homme. The following day we moved to
Conde to join this Division, which was en repos there and
in adjacent villages. Splendid quarters were found in an
old hospital barracks, and here the men stayed until
October 4, evacuating malades to Bar-le-Duc, which was
later so successfully bombed. Life there was very pleasant,
indeed, as the Division was most hospitable and cour-
teous in its reception of us. The men off service were fre-
quently invited to participate in the hand-grenade or
machine-gun practice of the various companies or to
give a Rugby game for the Division team or to take part
in the variety theatricals played in a near-by barracks.
But before the piece under way could be given. Section
Thirty-One was relegated to history, for on September
22, 1917, the United States recruiting officers arrived to
take over the Service.

Kent Dunlap Hagler^

^ Of Springfield, Illinois; Harvard, '18; served in Section Thirty-One and
in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service with the French Army during the war.

From the Notes of the Chef

Erize-la-P elite, August 19, 1917
We went Into the sector near Hill 304 on August 1 1 and
were cantoned in a village, Recicourt, that was under
shell- fire all the time. In fact there was never a night
when there was more than a two hours' interval between
shells, and part of the time we were shelled continually.
We had no ahris, except a couple of makeshift affairs,
which, besides being unsafe, were so wet and muddy that
it was impossible for the men to sleep in them. On two
occasions when gas-shells were used, one was compelled
to use a gas-mask even in the village. I felt pretty anxious
about this, and tried to get our cantonment farther back,
for when men are working under fire it is only fair that,
between times on duty, they be allowed rest at some place
where they may feel reasonably safe. However, they got
along all right with the work in spite of the fact that the
shell-fire was so hot that driving would have tried the
nerves of even an experienced Section.

On the night of August 13, we had a call for four cars,
and though I heard the enemy was using gas, I took
the cars up, only to find the road so blockaded that I
left them at the poste de secours and came back to tele-
phone that we were unable to reach the ioxther pastes, but
would keep cars near the blockade to bring back any
blesses whom they could fetch to us there. In the mean-
time I found that Mueller had taken five cars out to meet
a guide, sent by the Medecin Divisionnaire, who was to
show him where the cars were needed. Mueller got as far
as the blockade, where the gas was so thick that he took
the five men and walked through to try to find the guide.
But when he saw that the guide was not there to meet
him, he waited until the gas cleared a little, then got

432

l-I
>

O
H

SECTION THIRTY-ONE

about thirty- five blesses who had been injured by the gas
at a near-by artillery poste, and brought them back. I
would like to say a word commending Mueller for his
work that night, for he had charge of those five new men
and it was due to his efforts that they ever came out alive.

Well, there was the usual number of narrow escapes,
for the fire was exceptionally heavy that night. We had
two cars slightly damaged by shells and Lieutenant
Maillard's staff car was ruined by one. Luckily we did
not have a man hurt, except by gas, and yet in all the
time I have been at the front I don't believe I have seen
a more strenuous night. All the soldiers say that it is the
worst gas attack they have ever experienced, and it was
estimated that about ten thousand gas-shells were thrown
into our sector. It was the new gas they used that did the
harm, for besides being an asphyxiant, this gas has a
nauseating effect which causes a man, who may get only
a little of it, to vomit for several days after. It also makes
the body break out with small sores. The next day I found
we had suffered from the gas to the extent of having
eleven drivers too ill to work.

I doubt if we have a section in the Service which has
had a more severe test on its initial work at the front, and
I am proud of the boys and the effort they made.

C. C. Battershell ^

1 Of Milton, Illinois; born 1890; Whipple Academy, '10; American Field
Service, Sections Thirteen and Thirty-One; First Lieutenant U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service in France during the war. The above report was written to
Field Service Headquarters and is a fair sample of the scores of letters of
this kind found in the archives.

Ill

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

September 23, 191 7, Section Thirty-One, while in Conde-en-
Barrois, signed with the American Army and became S.S.U.
Six-Forty-Three. October 2 it reheved S.S.U. Fifteen at Jouy-
en-Argonne, serving on the left bank of the Meuse with the
14th French Division. Line pastes at Hills 232, 239, Montze-
ville, Marre, and Chattancourt. During November five cars
were detached to assist S.S.U. Thirty during the attack on
Hill 344. January 4, 191 8, the Section was relieved by S.S.A.
Four, and Six-Forty-Three convoyed to Velaines, where it
was detached from the 14th Division which continued its way
to the Vosges, two armies distant. Two weeks were spent at
Savonnieres en repos, and then the Section proceeded to Souilly,
where it did evacuation work for the Second Army for a period
of three weeks.

February 2 the Section went en repos at the Bois de Ravigny.
On account of the Section being quarantined for diphtheria, it
was six weeks before moving to the casernes at Bevaux. Two
months were spent on the right bank of the Meuse doing line
work for the 20th French Division at the following pastes:
Carriere d'Haudromont, Berges, Nice, and several call pastes.
From March, 1918, until March, 1919, the Section was at-
tached to the 20th Division. In April, 1918, Lieutenant Batter-
shell was replaced by Samuel S. Seward. The middle of May
found the Section en repos at Ligny-en-Barrois, where it stayed
for six days. May 28 the 20th Division and Section Six-Forty-
Three were ordered post-haste northward to stop the gap
made by the Boches on Chemin des Dames. The first Division
to arrive on the scene on May 29 was the 20th and it got almost
as far as Ville-en-Tardenois when it had to fall back.

For two days, though resisting stiffly, they were obliged
to drop back until, on the night of the 30th, they crossed the
Marne just to the right of Chateau-Thierry. The battles of
Villers-Agron and of Jaulgonne are given high significance in
the history of this German drive and here the Section did good
work sticking with the line units and being obliged to evacu-
ate its blesses sixty kilometres.

During the retreat Section cantonments were at Varennes,
Baulne, and Celle-les-Conde. The month of June was spent

434

SECTION THIRTY-ONE

working pastes along the Marne from Celle-les-Conde as a
headquarters. While here the 3d American Division joined
the 20th French, and Six-Forty-Three did the line work for
both Divisions, in the so-called halt of the German armies at
Chateau-Thierry.

Leaving Celle-les-Conde, June 28, the Section proceeded
to Dammartin, where it stayed for seven days with its Divi-
sion in reserve for an expected drive- at Villers-Cotterets. On
the 5th of July it returned to the Marne, taking positions
in the second line of defence between Chateau-Thierry and
Dormans, the Section camping at la ferme "Les Anglais."

After driving the Germans across the Marne the 20th Divi-
sion and Section Six-Forty-Three followed in active combat
the ensuing retreat to the river Vesle. The advance was made
through Chatillon, Ville-en-Tardenois, and finally stopped at
the river, the Division holding from Fismes to Jonchery. Here
the Section worked pastes along the river Vesle from a can-
tonment at Lagery until September i. Then the Division went
en repos and the Section, making a cantonment at Chatillon,
worked twenty cars a day evacuating for the Corps d'Armee.
September 20, Division and Section went tothe Vosges, mak-
ing headquarters at Saint-Die and Raon I'Etape. While here
Section Six-Forty-Three worked for the 82d American Divi-
sion as well as their own French Division.

Taking position early in November behind Baccarat for
the expected drive against Metz, Armistice Day found the
Section at Thaon-les-Vosges. The 20th Division made a tri-
umphal procession on the heels of the Boches, and were the
first Allies, and the men of Section Six-Forty-Three were the
first Americans to reach the Rhine, arriving at Strasbourg on
the dot of the permitted hour. After two weeks at Strasbourg
the Section and Division moved south to Schlestadt, taking
over the Rhine line, and remained here until Section Six-Forty-
Three was called into Paris for demobilization on March 13,
1919. A Section Citation to the Order of the Division was
received at Strasbourg, November, 191 8, for work on the
Marne and Vesle.

Gordon F. L. Rogers ^

1 Of Dedham, Massachusetts; Harvard; with Section Thirty-One in the
Field Service; in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service for the remainder of the
war.

Section Seventy-One

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Philip Shepley
II. Edward A. Weeks, Jr.

SUMMARY

Section Seventy-One took over a section of Fiat cars in
Noyon on July 31, 1917, and on August 2 was attached to the
158th Division, en repos at Nesle, on the Somme. On August
19 it moved to Lanchy on the Saint-Quentin front, with front
■bostes at Holnon, Maissemy, a relay station at Marteville, and
evacuation work at Ham, Cugny, and Noyon. The recruiting
officers visited the Section on August 29, but the Section con-
tinued under the old regime until November, when the Fiats
were abandoned; then the men transferred to a Ford Section
at Belrupt, outside of Verdun, becoming, with what remained
of Old Twenty-Nine, Section Six-Forty-One of the U.S.A. Am-
bulance Service.

Section Seventy-One

Some pledge I could but dimly understand,
Some subtle spell, lay on the calm and clear
Blue harbor of this mute, majestic land,
And hope shone smiling in the eyes of France.

Guy Wetmore Carryl

To THE Saint-Quentin Front

On July 31, 1917, Section Seventy-One was formed, with
Roland R. Speers as Chef, and James S. Brown as Sous-
Chef. At Noyon we were assigned to Fiat ambulances, and
on August 2 we joined the 158th Division, which was then.
en repos at Nesle, where we remained for nearly three
weeks, passing the time with such diversions as chatting
with the fair sex of the village, frequenting the cafe, and
getting beaten 7 to o by the French divisional soccer team.
As we were all craving action, being new to the game, the
news that we w^ere to leave for the front came as a welcome
relief. In fact, on August 19 the Section moved to Lanchy
on the Saint-Quentin front, where our Division had taken
over the lines.

Of all the forsaken, desolate spots w^e had ever seen,
Lanchy won first prize. Cold, rain, and mud added to
the dismalness of our surroundings and tended to make
existence pretty unpleasant, living as we did in tents and
cellars.

439

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

The work in this sector was not very strenuous. We
had two front pastes, one at Holnon, the other at Mais-
semy, of one car each, with a two-car relay station at
Marteville. Two cars daily were on evacuation. This
latter work was very popular, as it took us to Ham and
Cugny, the home of some American Red Cross nurses,
and sometimes as far as Noyon, with its ice-cream parlor
and cafes. As we were working in a repos sector we did not
see much action, except for a gas attack, during which
all the Section was called out. Of course, there were
the usual wild rumors of big coups de main and attacks
that were to come off "next week," but which never
materialized.

Gloom descended upon us on August 31, when the
United States recruiting officers appeared to enlist men
for the army ; but Seventy-One enlisted a larger propor-
tion of its men than any other Field Service section. To-
ward the end of October rumors spread that we were to
be relieved, and on November i an Allentown section,
fresh from America, appeared with little pasteboard-
walled cars. After two days, during which we showed
them the pastes, we were ordered to leave for Noyon
and turn in our cars. So glad were we to leave Lanchy
that the convoy out to Noyon, once beyond the limits
of Ham, developed into a whirlwind at which the gen-
darmes could only throw up their hands in despair.

After two days of bliss in Paris, the Section was cut
to twenty-five members, who moved to Belrupt just
outside of Verdun, where we relieved the members of
Section Twenty-Nine, taking over their cars and equip-
ment, and where we became attached to the 120th Divi-
sion and worked the paste de secours at the Carriere
d'Haudromont between Bras and Douaumont. Here, on
November 22, Way Spaulding was severely wounded in
front of the ahri. During the thirty-five days at Belrupt,
five of our cars were smashed by shells and all but two
cars were hit by eclats. On December 8 we were relieved
by a French Section of Fiats and moved to Andernay

440

SECTION SEVENTY-ONE

en repos. On Christmas Day, with much "crape-hanging,"
we donned the "choker uniforms" and became S.S.U.
Six-Forty-One of the United States Army Ambulance
Service.

Philip Shepley ^

^ Of Brookline, Massachusetts; Harvard, '20; served in the Field Service
with Section Seventy-One, and subsequently in the U.S.A. Ambulance
Service.

^ n

Getting to the Front

Nesle, August 6
Gas-masks and "tin derbies" were given out to-day,
and, with both of them on, I look like some prehistoric
fish. We were also warned by our Lieutenant regarding
the new German gas-shells. It appears that they are filled
with a combination gas, make very little noise when ex-
ploding — something on the order of a defective giant
firecracker — and make their presence first known by a
faint smell of garlic or mustard. Now we all run like fiends
when some imaginative soul thinks he smells garlic. At
the conclusion of his speech, the Lieutenant added that
the present gas-masks were no protection against the
new shells. I wonder what we 're going to use them for.

August 8
At last we Ve carried our first wounded, and if the war
were to stop to-morrow, which it won't, I could at least
say that I Ve seen some service, even though not actually
under shot and shell. Early this morning Harry and I
answered a call at Masy and transferred two couches
from the first-aid station there to the base hospital at
Ham. The roads were terrible, and I, riding in the back,
had a chance to witness the tortures endured by the
poor devils who were bounced about in a very gruesome
manner.

August II
This afternoon Dick, Harry, and I visited Herly, Curchy,
and Manicourt, ruined villages to the west of the cha-
teau. They were in utter ruins, and were uninhabited
save for a company or so of our Division, who were living
in the old German dugouts. Everything was in perfect

442

WHEN CLEANLINESS IS A MYTH

WHERE ARMY-BLUE TURNS TO KHAKI

SECTION SEVENTY-ONE

order, as the Boches were forced to evacuate In such a
hurry that they had Httle time for their usual ''strafing.''
The dugouts, which were about eight feet long by six
feet wide and six feet deep, were lined with thick sheet
iron, on top of which were placed sandbags, then logs,
and finally a thick layer of sod, the final product being
perfectly disguised, and for a distance up to a third of
a mile practically Indistinguishable from the landscape.
Many of them bore upon their walls somewhat pointed
and Impolite messages from the retiring Germans to the
entering Canadians. The dirty Boches had time, however,
before their departure, to chop down every fruit tree
that lay anywhere near their path of retreat. I remember
seeing a photograph of this atrocity In the pictorial
supplement of the "Times" — a devastated orchard
of which, out of a total of one hundred trees, but two
remained standing. You can Imagine my Interest upon
finding that the original of the picture was one of the
ruined orchards at Manlcourt.

Nesle, August i6
Rather a humdrum day. The only outstanding event
was the Lieutenant's leaving for his permission. He made
us a little speech, during which he read us an official com-
munication from the Division Commander in which the
latter complimented the Section upon Its general be-
havior and Its quickness In responding to calls. When he
had finished, we were purring like so many cats!

Lanchy, August 20

Promptly at eight o'clock we left our quarters and- set
out for the front, destination unknown. Arrived at this
town shortly after ten and parked behind S.S. Fifty-
Eight, a French section, decorated with the Croix de
Guerre for splendid work at Verdun. As soon as the
French cars leave we should get our chance to do some
of the real work for which we have been waiting.

443

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

The French Section "A" Tent

August 22

S.S. Fifty-Eight left at eight o'clock this morning.
I might say that until to-day we have been sleeping in
our cars, secretly envying the Frenchmen who had pro-
vided themselves with tents made with poilu ground
sheets. " Sandy," " Stew," and I had an opportunity, for-
tunately, to buy one, and very promptly did so. It is one
of the larger type, about ten feet square, well entrenched
and very sturdily put up. " Castle Cootie " is richly lux-
urious compared with our cramped and somewhat scented
ambulances. We paid only fifty francs for the compart-
ments, including an extra roof, and though tents have
been ordered for the entire Section, I feel sure that we
shall be greatly advanced in years before they arrive.
Meanwhile our purchase is the admiration of the Sec-
tion. We carried out our business transaction last evening,
and I therefore felt it my duty to be present at the
departure lest our newly acquired home were to take
it into its head to leave with them. My appearance,
shivering in my B.V.D.'s, was the signal for untold
merriment. I accepted the tribute in stern silence.

August 24
Last night the wind did blow; also the rain pattered,
dripped, and drizzled through every possible crack and
crevice in our most esteemed tent until "Castle Cootie"
was one damp puddle of floating possessions. And yet
the merry (?) patter of raindrops is a cheery sound under
even the most discouraging conditions, and the three of
us were soon wrapped in noisy but peaceful slumber. At
2.45 A.M., by actual observation of our wrist watches,
tent number 2, owned by Messrs. Crosby, Fox, Salinger,
and Spaulding, collapsed with a piteous sigh. Muffled
curses, groans, and wails. At three, Crosby, a most heart-
rending sight, indeed, crawls under the flap of our swaying
mansion, dragging behind him two wet, muddy, and

444

SECTION SEVENTY-ONE

exceedingly tired blankets. His entrance was greeted with
suppressed snickers from our three cots, but he haughtily
rolled himself up in the blankets, on the muddy floor, and,
no sympathy forthcoming, silence followed. In the morn-
ing Harry presented a never-to-be-forgotten appearance:
one belly-band, a pink pajama top, a heavy woollen un-
dershirt, a white St. Mark's sweater, a raveled blue
sweater constructed by "Her," and, as an outer shell,
a goatskin coat; while his props were encased in a
damp, mud-bespattered pair of pajama trousers, around
which were wound, in a most uncertain manner, a pair
of roll puttees!

August 25
Blue Monday! It's raining as consistently as it did all
day yesterday. The tent maintains its reputation as a
sieve. And a huge mail from the States arrived, my share
of which may be represented by the latter half of the
number 10. Gloom!

August 29
Wonder of wonders ! ! Last night's rumors were verified
this morning. Shortly before eleven, two United States
ofiicers and a very young-looking Army doctor drove up.
After lunch the Section was addressed by Lieutenant
Webster, and told that the Government had decided to
take over every independent American organization on
this side of the water. Then followed the necessary re-
cruiting ofiicer's "line," telling of the advantages, joys,
and untold privileges to be derived from "signing up."
We were given an hour to make up our minds, at the end
of which time seventy per cent of the Section signed. " I 'm
in the army now," rendered by Private Weeks.

August 30
Still recovering from yesterday's dismal prospect. Sup-
pose this damnable war lasts for some seven years. I re-
turn, a rheumatic, crabby old bachelor, losing my hair in

445

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

bunches, to be greeted by strange faces on all sides and
the consoling news that the object of my tenderest af-
fections married some slacker five years before.

Real Work

September 13
We had our first real work last night. It appears that the
Boche artillery had a holiday and spent the greater part
of the evening throwing gas-shells into the second and
third lines near Holnon. Their range was good — it always
is — and they successfully cracked a few abris and threw
things about in a most unpleasant manner. We got a
call for "several ambulances" a little after ten, and I
believe we made a record time to the poste. When we got
there a rather unpleasant sight greeted us. All about the
abri and in the forepart of the trench the ground was
covered with gasping, prostrate figures of men, their faces
a livid green, their foreheads shining with sweat, mum-
bling incoherently, twisting and turning in agony. It was
our first experience with gas and one that did not tend
to heighten our respect for the Hun. The cure was among
those gassed, but he refused to accept any aid until all
his men had been attended to, lapsing into unconscious-
ness just as the doctor bent over him. Just twoscore men
gassed, an incident too trivial to be mentioned in the
daily 'Communique; just one of the million unrecorded
sacrifices for which the Boches will have to pay some day.

Edward A. Weeks, Jr.^

» Of Elizabeth, New Jersey; Cornell, '19; served as a driver in Section
Seventy-One of the Field Service and, subsequently, with the U.S.A. Am-
bulance Service. The above are extracts from his unpublished diary.

Note. — Early in November most of the American personnel of Section
Seventy-One, including the American Ofificers, were transferred from the
borrowed French cars to the Field Service Fords of old Section Twenty-Nme.

Shortly thereafter this latter Section was renumbered by the U.S. Army,
and became Section Six-Forty-One. Under this title it continued to func-
tion until after the Armistice.

Section Thirty-Two

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. GURNEE HiNMAN BaRRETT

II. John S. Clapp

SUMMARY

On July 31, 1917, Section Thirty-Two left the camp at May-en-
Multien and came to Paris to get its cars. It left the city on
August 2, en convoi, arriving two days later at Ablois Saint-
Martin. On August 16 it was attached to an attacking division,
and moved with the Division to Romigny, near Verdun, on
August 28. The Division remained here until October 2, when
it went into line on the Verdun front, in a sector on the Meuse
River. The cantonment of the Section was at Houdainville. It
came back en repos on November 4, and was relieved by the
men who were to take over the Section under the Army re-
gime. Thereafter the Section number was Six-Forty-Four of
the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Section Thirty-Tiuo

And, conquering by her happiness alone,
Shall France compel the nations to be free.

S. T. Coleridge

The New York City Club Unit

We of the New York City Club Unit cheered with no
little envy Sections Thirty-One and Seventy-One as
they left camp for active service. But we had to wait our
turn. It came on July 31, 19 17. Early that morning Ives
lined us up in the courtyard before the ofhce of Chej
Fisher, at the old grist-mill camp, May-en-Multien. We
gave three rousing cheers for Fisher and some more for
Sous-Chef Magnus and the French Marechaldes Logis, our
drillmaster. To everybody's surprise and extreme delight
the latter then walked up to Ives and kissed him on both
cheeks. The next two days were spent in Paris struggling
with our cars. They started hard and did not run too well ;
however, with several cylinders still missing we were
officially designated Section Thirty-Two of the Ameri-
can Field Service, Keith Vosburg, Chef in charge, Lieu-
tenant Miossec, of the French Army, in command, and at
8 A.M., on August 2, we passed through the lower garden
gate at 21 rue Raynouard in convoy on our way to the
front.

449

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Two days' driving brought us to a little village, Ablois
Saint-Martin, where we parked our cars in a chestnut
grove and awaited further orders. We were now in that in-
definitely exclusive region — "somewhere in France." It
rained incessantly and the mud was deep. Not until Ver-
dun, however, were we to know what mud could be. The
good housewives in whose homes we were cantoned showed
great interest in ^'les americains,'' in many cases calling
us their adopted sons.

Orders were slow in coming. For a while three meals a
day were our principal concern. These meals were drawn
from the regular French ravitaillement, and prepared
under the supervision of our Brigadier d' Ordinance, a
French attache whom we called "Gabby," Now Gabby
was an old hand at catering, but the American palate
puzzled him. " What would the boys like me to bring them
for dessert?" he asked one day. Some one shouted, "Lem-
ons," Gabby looked doubtful, but the suggestion was
loudly confirmed. Sure enough that night a basket of
lemons appeared on the table. The laugh was on us — ■
there was no doubt about that; but Gabby's feelings were
at stake, so the basket of lemons went slowly up and down
the table, each man solemnly taking one and stuffing it
into his pocket with the explanation that "he'd save his
until he got outside," "Well, you zee, my dear," said
Gabby, " these americains, they are a funny lot, you zee! "

Repos — Experiments in Painting

To keep us out of mischief. Chef Vosburg ordered the red
crosses on our ambulances enlarged. This required red and
white paint and about four days' work. After that, no
German, no matter how near-sighted, could possibly have
mistaken our identity. Lieutenant Miossec was impressed
and later inspired. He ordered a French flag to be painted
beside each red cross, the measurements to be the same —
about two feet square. Less enthusiasm was shown in this
latter job, and when an order appeared to place in the
last remaining panel an emblem characterized by the

450

SECTION THIRTY-TWO

Lieutenant as a "Horse Sea," a shout of protest arose,
but to no avail. Some one suggested that before any more
orders were issued we had better enlarge the cars. So some
of the men painted on their radiators the trademarks of
the Mercer, the Rolls-Royce, and the Simplex. If the war
had ended that week we could have sold out to Barnum
and Bailey!

Not long after this we were officially attached to an
attacking division, one that had several citations and
much regained territory to its credit. The men in it were
for the most part a hard-looking, light-hearted lot —
sons of a tropical clime.

General Retain paid the Division a visit at about this
time. In his address he made much of its record and
held out great hopes for the future. There was much talk
among the men that night about a pending attack, in
which case they all had their eyes on the yellow fourra-
gere. The General had spoken well. But one little zouave,
perhaps more sentimental than the rest, said, "I guess
it 's time to write home." A fifty per cent casualty list was
not unusual for this Division. Soon we packed up and
moved; then, after a few days, we moved again. Our con-
voys improved — the men were beginning to know their
cars. This was fortunate because it became quite apparent
that our destination was Verdun.

Then for a while, from August 28 on, we paused — a
peaceful interlude. We were cantoned on an old farm at
Romigny abounding in fruit trees and comprising several
well-cleared fields. We promptly laid out a diamond and
organized ball teams. After playing a minor series, we
started what promised to be a spell-binding contest. But
poor old Carl Schweinler broke his leg sliding to home
plate and all bets were off.

It was while we were on this farm that the recruiting
officers called. We had long realized that our volunteer
days were numbered; that all the privately subscribed
ambulances would eventually be taken over by the United
States ; and that in order to continue our work we should

451

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

have to enlist as privates in the National Army. Sixteen
men enlisted, the rest of the Section remaining as volun-
teers until new recruits could fill the ranks. There was no
immediate change in the organization, however.

On the Meuse

Our Division went into the line on October 2 and we es-
tablished ourselves in a little village, Houdainville, directly
on the river Meuse. In order to learn the roads six of us
were detailed to the English section that we were to re-
lieve the following day. Starting from the hospital we pro-
ceeded by a tree-lined boulevard past one of the gates of
Verdun. There we turned to the right up the side of one of
the surrounding hills, and just before reaching the crest,
at a point about seven kilometres from the hospital, we
came upon a series of bomb-proofs that we were to use as
a relay poste, or "cab stand," as we called it. Less than a
year before, this poste had been the most advanced in the
sector, the German lines being only a few hundred yards
away. But when we were there the distance to the lines
was measured in kilometres and we drove to our advanced
pastes through this recently regained territory.

The road from the "cab stand" to the farthest poste
was terrific. For a kilometre it was broad enough, straight
and partly camouflaged, but after that it became narrow,
crooked, and very rough. The surrounding country had
once been wooded, with here and there a town, but now it
was the symbol of desolation, a few upturned stumps and
shattered logs being all that remained of a forest. As for
the town sites, they were impossible to find, the terrain
resembling the moon — a mass of overlapping crater holes.
After a rain these holes became partly filled with stagnant
water and a stench arose that was horrible in its sugges-
tiveness. Officially thousands upon thousands of soldiers
have been reported "missing" on these fields. But, more
literally, they have returned to clay. Such was the re-
gained territory we traversed. The last stretch of road
ran down a jagged gulch and terminated in a pool of

452

SECTION THIRTY-TWO

filthy water. There being no room to turn around in the
gulch, we always backed our cars down. This would be
quite a feat under any circumstances because of the ever-
present mud, stones, and debris, but we usually had to do
it in total darkness, frequently in the midst of bursting
shells.

The poste itself lay in a hollow at the foot of a limestone
outcrop, which had been a quarry before the Germans
converted it into a bomb-proof. It was said to be thirty
feet underground, and hence safe. That was its only vir-
tue. Water trickled perpetually down the walls, keeping
the mean high level on the floor about ankle-deep. Venti-
lation was out of the question. Acetylene gas, chloride of
lime, and the odors given out by dirty wet clothes formed
the principal constituents of the atmosphere. Three hours
in this place, particularly when it was filled with wounded,
was enough to create a splitting headache. In addition to
this poste were two others which paled by comparison.
They were smaller, cleaner, and at less distance from the
"cab stand."

During the first weeks that we worked this sector we
experienced rain, snow, and fog, and we drove in nights of
utter blackness, so black in fact that it was frequently
necessary to feel one's way on foot just ahead of the car in
order to find the road. Four hours for the round trip of
fourteen kilometres was not uncommon, and there were
places along the way where a miscalculation of two feet
would mean the total loss of a car. Accidents were inevi-
table. Artillery caissons passing at the gallop robbed us of
tool-boxes, and mud-guards crumbled when brought in
contact with trucks, all of which was particularly trying
to the sensitive souls of those fastidious drivers who two
weeks before had tenderly removed mud from headlights
and polished scratches on hoods. No wonder, therefore,
that one night within an hour four cars were put out of
commission; the most picturesque of these turning over
like a turtle on his back In the mouth of a huge shell-hole.
Several front ends were replaced on the road and many a

453

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

car was towed into the repair shop. Radiators fell parti-
cularly easy prey to exploding shells, and during the first
ten days fourteen of our cars were pierced by eclats; but
fortunately, no one was hurt. Twenty-four hours on and
twenty-four hours off is a strenuous schedule when it lasts
over a month, and when one hundred and fifty kilometres
is the average run per man per shift ; such was our exist-
ence at this time. Little wonder, therefore, that we began
to think of repos, which came on November 4, together
with the men sent to replace those who had not enlisted.
Following quickly on the heels of this period of rest
came the welcome news of a section citation and five
individual Croix de Guerre. At the ceremony attendant on
the conferring of these honors the General of the Division
made a very gracious speech in which he said :

Some months ago, you came to us as strangers, but now the
men of my Division regard you as brothers and I look upon you
as my children. You have recently been called upon to per-
form a difficult and dangerous task. Your performance has
been above criticism. In a word, you have shown yourselves
to be as brave as the men who fight in the trenches. I therefore
take great pleasure in presenting you with the highest honor
that is within my power to bestow.

GURNEE HiNMAN BARRETT ^

' Of New York City; Columbia, 'lo; served with Section Thirty-Two
of the Field Service; subsequently a First Lieutenant in the U.S.A. Ambu-
lance Service.

THE (iARDEN OF "RUE RAYNOUARD " IN WINTER

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

November 3, 1917, the Section, now relabeled Six-Forty-Four,
took part in its first engagement under American regime, at
Verdun, in the Bezonvaux sector between Forts Douaumont
and Vaux. It was in the line during a period of thirty-five
days, and evacuated 3040 blesses. Although we had no casual-
ties we lost two of our cars. The Section here received its first
citation.

After a ten-day repos at Combles, the Division went into
the lines, again at Verdun, and captured Hill 344. We carried
4210 wounded during the ten days the Division was in the
lines. On December 3 the Section went en convoi to Bar-sur-
Aube, where it remained en repos for a period of two weeks.
At Darney we settled down for a long cold winter. On January
21 of the new year we quit Darney, going to Custines, a small
town on the Nancy front. From here we operated posies in and
around Nomeny.

The Section left this sector about the first of March for
the front near Amiens. The Division went into the lines at
Villers-Bretonneux, and the Section was cantoned directly in
back of the troops, at Petit Blangy, later at Patte d'Oie, where
we camped alongside of the main road between Amiens and
Saint-Quentin. We again were forced to move, and this time
went to the Bois de Fort Manon, where we stayed until August
2, operating pastes in front of Villers-Bretonneux and to the
left of that town. We then went to Wailly, and from there,
after a few days' wait, to Cottenchy where the Division made
a joint attack with the British on their right. The Germans
were forced back to the general line of Ham, Nesle, Roye, etc.
During this attack the Section took its first part in open war-
fare, as well as occupying reconquered territory for the first
time. The Division by forced marches through Maignelay,
Jonquieres, and Ribecourt, went into the lines at Chiry-Ours-
camp, and, attacking, captured Noyon, then advancing to
La Fere. During this time the Section made their evacuations
in such a manner as to receive another citation.

From there the Division advanced through the towns of
Chevresis, Monceau, Parpeville, Puisieux, and thence to Hirson,
in a continuation of the Aisne-Oise offensive. The Armistice
was signed the day after the Section reached Hirson.

455

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Returning to La Fere, we remained there until the latter
part of December, when we started en convoi for the Vosges,
preparatory to taking part in the French occupation of Ger-
many. We stayed in Rambervillers two weeks, and then went
into reconquered Alsace on February 14, 1919, stopping for a
few days in the town of Sarrebourg. From there the Section
convoyed to Einod, in the Palatinate, and thence to Alsie
(Hesse), Bierstadt, in Rhenish Prussia, near Wiesbaden, and
to Niederhausen, where the Section was cantoned for two weeks
or so; moving from there to Ober Losbach. From that place
started the final convoy of the Section for Paris.

John S. Clapp ^

1 Of Auburndale, Massachusetts; in T.M.U. 397 during his time with the
Field Service, and in Section Six-Forty-Four of the U.S. Ambulance Service
with the French Army during the remainder of the war.

Section Thirty-Three

THE STORY TOLD BY

I. Robert Rieser
II. Richard C. Paine

SUMMARY

Section Thirty-Three left for the front on August i6, 191 7,
the last Field Service Section to go out. It went via Bar-le-Duc
to Issoncourt, and on September 6 to Triaucourt to join the
26th Division. The Section was enlisted on September 25, and
the next day went to Grange-le-Comte, and shortly afterward
to Clermont-en-Argonne. Early in November it became Sec-
tion Six-Forty-Five in the U.S. Army Ambulance Service.

Section Thirty-Thi^ee

The land of sunshine and of song!

Her name your hearts divine;
To her the banquet's vows belong

Whose breasts have poured its wine;
Our trusty friend, our true ally

Through varied change and chance.
So, fill your flashing goblets high, —

I give you, Vive la France!

Oliver Wendell Holmes

A Brief Career with the A.F.S.

A NARRATIVE of the brief career of Section Thirty-Three
has little to offer the reader in the way of high-explosive
thrills, shell-swept roads, or hair-breadth escapes; yet
the last ambulance unit to leave rue Raynouard driving
Fords must not be left "unwept, unhonored, and unsung."
On August 1 6, 1 91 7, twenty-one spick-and-span new
Ford ambulances, a staff car, and camionnette formed in
hollow square in the lower garden, and after an inspection
by Mr. Andrew and some officers of the United States
Army, rolled out of the gates in obedience to a series of
unrehearsed and complicated whistle signals, concocted
by our Chef to meet the emergency. Despite the signals
and the ill-advised attempt of a car in the hands of a green
driver to climb over the car ahead and wreck the stately

459

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

trees of the garden, we passed out into the street and
history, and toward the distant battle-Hne.

At jMontmirail we parked our cars the first night and
proceeded to get acquainted. The personnel included as
our French Lieutenant, Henry Laurent, Gordon Ware as
Chef, and Bruce H. McClure, Sous-Chef.

On the following day we reached Bar-le-Duc, where
we had our first view of an air raid, new to us, but an old
story to the inhabitants, and also our first experience
with troop barracks and army beds, with the compen-
sation of a refreshing swim in the canal outside of town.
On August 19 we pulled out of Bar, leaving most of our
available cash in the hands of the local shopkeepers,
and rolled on to Issoncourt, where we went into camp
in what was left of a farm. A cow-stable offered quar-
ters to those of us who did not bunk in our cars, and here
we were introduced to several varieties of insect life that
were destined to form lasting attachments for us in the
days to follow.

At Issoncourt we remained in mud and melancholy
until September 6, employing our leisure in the manufac-
ture of camp furniture, perfecting our French, enjoying
an occasional tramp over portions of the Marne battle-
field near by, and filling ourselves with several delicious
varieties of plums growing in profusion about us.

On the night of the 6th, in the midst of a howling rain-
storm, we packed up at an hour's notice and were off to
join the 26th Division of the Second Army at Triaucourt,
where we arrived the same night. Visions of immediate
action stirred us, but our hopes of high adventure re-
ceived another jolt, for here we parked our cars on either
side of a main thoroughfare and remained quiescent
for eighteen long days. Some of us slept in our cars and
others found quarters in a hay-loft whose sole means of
entry was a rickety ladder, an inducement to sobriety
if nothing else.

On September 25 we departed from Triaucourt with
no regrets, and after a night at Grange-le-Comte, the

460

BRONZE STATUETTE DESIGNED BY A FRENCH SOLDIER, JILIEN 3IONIER
IN WESSERLING, ALSACE, 1016, AS A TRIBUTE TO SECTION NINE

SECTION THIRTY-THREE

Section moved to Clermont-en-Argonne, where we were
soon comfortably established in one of the few compara-
tively whole houses in town. The advanced pastes which
we serv^ed at Neuvillyand Dervin kept us busy, and offered
enough in the way of thrills, but the fates that seem to
watch over the destinies of ambulance drivers were good
to us, for despite frequent close calls, we suffered no
casualties in the Clermont sector.

On the 4th day of November, S.S.U. Thirty-Three
officially passed into history and became Section Six-
Forty- Five of the United States Army Ambulance Serv-
ice. Brief though its existence as a volunteer unit may
have been, Thirty-Three was thoroughly imbued with the
sentiments of the units that preceded it in the field, and
the high standards and splendid traditions of the Ameri-
can Field Service in France.

Robert Rieser^

1 Of Hoboken, New Jersey; Columbia; served with the American Field
Service for three months, 1917; subsequently with the Red Cross in Italy
and later an Aspirant, French Artillery.

Summary of the Section's History under the
United States Army

At the time of its militarization, the Section was in Clermont-
en-Argonne, where it remained, getting accustomed to the
army hfe, until Christmas Day, 1917. The month of Janu-
ary, 191 8, was spent en repos at Andernay, and on February 6
the Section was sent to Houdainville, below Verdun. For six
weeks or more we were extremely busy and had many excit-
ing moments, serving the famous pastes east of the city.

Early in April we were ordered to Sommedieue in the Woevre,
where the entire spring was passed with not an overdose of
thrills. On the loth of August we started for Soissons, arriv-
ing after numberless one-night stands on the 25th. Quarters
were taken up in the lowlands of the Aisne near Fontenoy.
For four days and nights our infantry attacked, and we were
overwhelmed with strenuous work. Our cars were on the road
continuously, serving pastes which constantly shifted their
position, and lent a nervous uncertainty that added to the
strain.

On August 29 Hess, a very fine chap, was killed by a bomb,
and Naslund and Mackie were wounded. For the work done
at this time the Section received a citation.

A ten-day rest and we were returned to the same sector to
take part in the Aisne-Oise offensive, which was only halted by
the Armistice. Descending then in convoy, we spent the win-
ter at Forbach, in Lorraine, where our troops were on garrison
duty. The Section left in March for Base Camp.

Richard C. Paine ^

1 Of Boston, Massachusetts; Harvard, '17; served with Section Thirty-
Three from September, 191 7, and after its militarization with the U.S.A.
Ambulance Service.

Section Seventy-Two

THE STORY TOLD BY
I. John H. Woolverton

SUMMARY

Section Seventy-Two arrived at May-en-Multien on August
6, 1917. It left for the front, driving French ambulances, on
August 18, 1917. After repos of two weeks at Noyon, it was
sent to the front at Saint-Quentin. En route for this place, it
was enlisted, at Flavy-le-Martel, by the American recruiting
officers, being the first section of the Service taken over by
the U.S. Army. It continued work under the old regime until
November, when it filled in Old Section Twenty-Seven's va-
cancies and took over their Fords, becoming Section Six-Thirty-
Nine of the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

Section Seventy-Two

Frenchman, a hand in thine!

Our flags have waved together!
Let us drink to the health of thine and mine

And swear to be friends for ever.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The " Youngest Son " Section

Seventy-Two was the youngest son of a large family.
When only one day weaned from a dusty preliminary
repos of two weeks at Noyon, the Section undertook its
first service at Saint-Quentin. Immediately thereafter
came the United States recruiting officers offering every
man the opportunity to become a private in the American
Army, but to remain with the Section in the Sanitary
Service of the French Army. One of the first groups to be
visited by these officers, we have the distinction of en-
listing every man able to meet the physical requirements,
except one. Four of the original number were rejected on
physical grounds.

The last complete section sent out from the Field
Service Headquarters in Paris, we found ourselves, Sep-
tember 5, 191 7, just emerging from the embryo of war in

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

the abstract into active service and the American Army.
Our personnel, with the exception of our Chef, was com-
posed of the young men who sailed from the docks of
the French line in New York City on two steamers, the
Chicago, leaving July 23, and the Rochamheau, leaving
August 3, 1917.

Those of us who came over on the Chicago arrived in
Paris from Bordeaux on the morning of August 4, and
on the afternoon of the 6th we were transferred to May-
en-Multien. The fortnight spent at this camp will always
be remembered by us as a real midsummer idyll ; for, al-
though May was located in the now famous Marne dis-
trict, scarcely thirty-five kilometres from the Soissons
front, the sound of the cannon was only dimly heard.
Here the enemy in hasty retreat had been unable to com-
mit his customary acts of vandalism, and the beautiful
country was practically untouched. So we received our
first taste of rural France in a lazy courtyard, surrounded
by buildings which had once been the possession of a
rich miller, trying in vain to realize that we were so near
the scene of gruesome war.

The majority of the Chicago's Field Serv^ice passengers
quartered at ]\Iay preferred to drive Ford cars, and out
of these a new section, Thirty-Three, was immediately
formed. When this group left the camp for the front, the
rest of us, who had spoken for gear-shift cars, were com-
pelled to wait until our personnel could be increased by
new men. Nine days after our arrival the ambulance
recruits from the Rochamheau came out from Paris, and
from this group we were able to fill out a complete sec-
tion of forty-nine men, and on August 18, after two days
of intensive driving on May's historic voitures, we were
transported back to Paris.

Again our stay in Paris was brief. The day after our
arrival we were lined up at rue Raynouard and informed
that we would henceforth be known as S.S.U. Seventy-
Two and that we would take over a former French sec-
tion of twenty Fiats, two men to be placed on each car.

466

SECTION SEVENTY-TWO

We were then introduced to our Section Commander,
Chef William Westbrook. In the early morning of the
following day, August 19, we were routed out of bed and
despatched to the military town of Noyon, in the Oise,
where we were to await instructions for joining a French
division, and where our twenty cars were lined up on the
main highway to Saint-Quentin, in the heart of the town.
They were seasoned veterans, these cars, and were scarred
and battered by great campaigns. Each one, however, had
been carefully repaired at the Noyon pare before our
arrival, and could be counted on for years more of active
service. Owing to the lack of quarters, most of us had to
sleep on the stretchers in these very cars ; so they became
near and dear to us from the very start.

For precisely two weeks we led an absolutely useless
existence, which was principally spent in inhaling dust
and exhaling epithets; and somehow the veteran cars
seemed as impatient as we were at this forced idleness.
During the first week Lieutenant Gibily, our French
commanding officer, to whom we became greatly at-
tached, was transferred elsewhere. He was followed by
two other French officers who came and went for reasons
known to the inner circles only. This did not tend to re-
move our impatience. It seemed at times as though we
were to remain without the extremely valuable surveil-
lance of French authority.

Saturday evening, September i, we received orders
to move forward toward Saint-Quentin, and the next
morning the staff car, camionnette, and twenty ambu-
lances, with our complete equipment, moved slowly over
the road in convoy, and stopped at about noon on the
outskirts of Flavy-le-M artel, where late in the after-
noon of the same day the American recruiting officers
followed us out from Noyon and formally enlisted the
entire Section, with the several justifiable exceptions
mentioned earlier. So what we at first thought meant
active work at the front, really ended only in our in-
corporation into the American army, which was well

467

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

enough as far as it went, but which did not go far enough
for most of us.

Our camp, which had been a prosperous stock and poul-
try farm surrounding a spacious court, was cleaned up
until it was made quite comfortable. The shacks used
for houses were reenforced. Useless acetylene gas-tanks
were stripped from the cars and served as generators
for truly modern lighting systems. Stoves for winter we
found among deserted ruins. Daily the cantonment and
court were swept and cleaned furiously. But none of us
lost in weight, thanks to work enough for appetite and
good food. The historian is compelled to be truthful and
admit that Section Seventy-Two's story ends where
most others begin. Our work came after Section Seventy-
Two of the Field Service was combined with S.S,U.
Twenty-Seven, and had become Section Six-Thirty-Nine
of the United States Army Ambulance Service.

John H. Woolverton ^

1 Of Trenton, New Jersey; Dartmouth; served with Section Seventy-
Two from August, 1917, and continued in the U.S.A. Ambulance Service
during the war.

Field Service Haimts and Friends

Twenty-One Rue Raynouard
I. Raymond Weeks
II. Stephen Galatti

III. Joseph R. Greenwood

IV. David Darrah

V. J. W. D. Seymour

Training and Supply Centres
I. John R. Fisher
II. John R. Fisher
H. Burt Herrick

III. Robert A. Donaldson

IV. Stephen Galatti

Two Loyal Friends of the Field Service
I. Arthur J. Putnam
II. Preston Lockwood

French Officers Associated with the Service

Stephen Galatti

" 9

Do you remember a west postern gate,
Unnoticed to the loud street and casual glance,

There in the dim heart of Passy —
Or down below, where our past lives relate
Their kindred tales to the "Sweetheart of Romance,"
On the long-historied terraces 'neath massy
Chestnut-shadows by the winding Seine?

And after summer you may still remember.
Were it your fortune to come back on leave
And see that magic garden in the rain.
Or couched in opiate mists that wan November
Dropped over Paris in those days of pain.

Long after, when the lustre of young days.
Worn dull with grinding on the years behind.
Leaves me 'twixt weakness and the winding sheet,
Light the last taper — phantom of the mind!
Lead to the kind portals of the "vieiix chateau":
Give me in those enduring halls to meet
" Mes vieiix copains" — be thankful it was so,
We served the better for that loved retreat,
Raynouard, in the dim heart of Passy !

Raymond W. G auger

':a.^

J I

l^^^J

i^ c<^ JI.^.

Twenty-One Rue Rayjiouard

A Corner of Old Passy

Twenty-One Rue Raynouard! What an echo these
words will always arouse in the hearts of all of us who
came to know the chateau and especially the beautiful
park ! The American Field Service has had many gener-
ous benefactors, none of whom will be remembered with
greater gratitude than the Comtesse de la Villestreux and
the members of the Hottinguer family, who, in July,
1916, placed at our disposal this princely estate, which
includes the largest and most beautiful private park
within the fortifications of Paris. Those four or five
acres of forest, gardens, and lawns offered an ideal ar-
rangement. The low part by the Seine provided easy
ingress and egress for our ambulances, with plenty of
space for a hundred and fifty or more at one time, under
the protection of enormous trees. A winding drive led
up to successive terraces, until one stood in front of the
chateau, on the top of the hill of Passy. As one looks
down from this point, one sees at the left the dense, dark
foliage of the largest grove of chestnuts in Paris, and on

471

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

the right the romantic chalet, with a glimpse of the
orchard beyond. Between these extremes, paths wind
about, leaving a broad lawn in the centre. Above and
through the trees one catches sight of the sparkling
waters of the Seine, while beyond the chestnut grove
stands the lacelike Eiffel Tower.

There are interesting things too numerous to mention
about the house and grounds. Most of us know that
kings and the great Emperor have walked here. Under
the top terrace runs the long gallery beneath whose mas-
sive vault thousands of young ambulanciers have eaten.
They did not often know that this room used to be called
the "Orangery," that a statue of the king stood in the
large niche in the northern wall, and that, if the soil
seemed always moist, it was because here ran, and still
struggles to run, one of the famous springs of Passy. For
the place was noted as early as the seventeenth century
because of three medicinal springs, and was called ''Les
Eaux de Passy.'' It was in the Orangery that Rousseau
wrote part of his Devin du Village, as he himself tells us.
His beloved Madelon, to whom he wrote his Lettres sur
la Botanique, was none other than Mme. Gautier, the
mistress of the chateau. The family still possesses these
letters, as well as the herbarium which he composed for
her.

Some of us remember another gallery, with even
huger vaults, under the first terrace. This gallery is
much older, as its walls and windows indicate. Here may
still be seen many of the ancient jars in which the precious
waters were carried up from the springs. This gallery
was due to the first great exploiter of the Eaux de Passy,
the Abbe Le Ragois, who is remembered as the almoner
of Mme. de Maintenon. The abbe lived in a house which
stood on the site of the house of the concierge, by the
"lower gate," and his lands extended for some distance
beyond the present eastern limits of the park. His
clientele included hundreds of the nobility and of the
most influential people of Paris and vicinity. After the

472

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

death of the abhe in 1725, his niece inherited the estate.
The estabhshment enjoyed a great extension under the
next proprietor, M. Belamy, who twice a week kept
"open house." Tables were set under the trees when the
weather permitted, and, at other times, in the gallery
built by the Abbe Le Ragois. From 1777 to 1785 one of
the most familiar figures to be seen walking in the park
was that of Benjamin Franklin, who lived near by in the
rue Raynouard. La Tour d'Auvergne lived here from
1776 to 1800.

In 1803 the son of A I. Belamy sold the property to
Mme. Gautier and to the brothers Delessert. One of
these three brothers established a refinery on the place
and was the first person to obtain sugar from beets.
This discovery led to the visit of Napoleon, on Janu-
ary 2, 18 12. He was so delighted at the success of
INI. Delessert that he then and there decorated him and
made him a baron. The three brothers occupied sepa-
rate houses, using the park in common. No. 21 rue Ray-
nouard was the residence of Benjamin Delessert, while
Frangois Delessert lived at No. 2^, and Gabriel Delessert,
No. 19. Toward the close of the nineteenth century, it
is of interest to us to note, the sculptor Bartholdi, the
author of Liberty Enlightening the World, lived at the
chateau. After his death, the Baronne Bartholdi con-
tinued the traditions of hospitality and generosity which
have endeared the place to so many generations.

The establishment of the "waters of Passy" was
closed to the public towards the year 1868, but Mme.
Delessert long continued the gratuitous distribution of
the waters among the poor. The reddish waters still
flow in the subterranean passage which many of us have
visited. At one place a bright tin cup invites one to
drink. Those who have explored this passage for some
distance readily believe the statement that a vaulted
passage leads from the chateau to the Seine, for every
few days of our residence in this enchanted place has
brought glimpses of unsuspected mysteries — vaulted,

473

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

closed chambers, long underground corridors that lead
Heaven knows where, the old orchard, the latticed grape-
vines, the labyrinth, the cavernes in the cliff where ice and
milk were kept, the stone tables, the remnants of the
rose garden. Then, from the farthest end of the estate
one looks across the strange, deserted rue Berton to
what remains of the park of the Due de Lauzun and the
chateau, which were purchased in 1783 by the unfortu-
nate Princesse de Lamballe. Rue Berton here turns at
right angles and becomes, in the part which runs parallel
to rue Raynouard, the narrowest street in Paris: you
can stand in the middle of it and touch the two sides
with your hands. The Princesse was perhaps not a
dreamer, but, just opposite her dwelling, on a terrace at
the top of the wall, stands the diminutive house and
garden of one of the greatest dreamers the world has
known, Balzac.

It is safe to say that we may forget many things in
connection with our expedition to France, but we shall
not forget the generosity of the gracious and charming
French family who placed at our disposal the house and
park at 21 rue Raynouard.

Raymond Weeks ^

1 Of New York City; Harvard, and University of Paris; Professor of Ro-
mance Languages at Columbia University; served on the Staff of the Field
Serv'ice in France from July, 1917, to January, 1918.

Rue Raynouard and the Service

It was in the early part of the summer of 1916 that for-
tune smiled on those whose chief occupation it was at
the time to find new headquarters for the American
Field Service. One might assume that it would have
been easy to secure a suitable place somewhere in Paris.
Office room — yes, that was easy; a house or hotel for
the men, and a garage for the cars — equally so. But we
had even then a vision of many men and cars to come, and
to have these scattered throughout the city would in-
volve not only serious inconvenience in matters of ad-
ministration, but would also require many men to super-
vise the various establishments — men who were needed
at the front. Centralization, on the other hand, would
mean better organization, especially under conditions
where every moment might bring changes to alter all our
plans and require immediate action. A telegram from
the front demanding men or supplies had to be met
instantly, and centralization could coordinate the send-
ing of both without loss of time. At a moment's notice
new cars could be despatched; new equipment or parts
forwarded; men could be found, given their necessary
papers, and sent to the train fully equipped — all small
but vital factors if a service is to be run to its greatest
efficiency. Fortune, after many disappointments, smiled,
for Baron Hottinguer and his family heard of the quest,
and immediately placed at our disposal the house and
grounds of 21 rue Raynouard, the one place in all Paris
which was perfectly suited to our needs, and which, as
time went on, proved its elasticity in every emergency.

Since that time, except for a handful of ambulance
drivers who returned to America before the summer of
191 6, there is not a member of the American Field Service
who has not been affected in some way by 21 rue Ray-

475

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

nouard. Throughout all the memories of varied experi-
ences at the front remains an ever-present background
of the contact with this home, for it was necessarily there
that the first impressions of France and of the Service
were stamped indelibly in the mind of every newly
arrived volunteer. There centred the realization of each
one's hopes in at last reaching Paris; the first steps which
enabled him to start in service ; the final period of prepa-
ration and the start for the camp or section; the return
after three months to civilization for those all too short
seven days of leave; and finally the return from this great
adventure at the completion of the enlistment period and
while waiting for a boat to America or an opportunity to
enlist in some other branch of military service. Rue Ray-
nouard is indeed a part of the history of the Field Service,
for each volunteer has woven there some of his story.

But it was especially the beauty and associations of
the place which made its name such a permanent memory
in the minds of all those who came in contact with it.
Although only one of the many historical and beautiful
spots in Paris, it was one which belonged to us without
restrictions while we were there. For the donors, in
entrusting it to those who had come to France to help her
cause, had stipulated only, that we should come to them
again whenever there might be need of their help. In it
we found on our arrival the expression of that which we
found everywhere later in France; namely, generosity,
patriotism, beauty, and rich associations with the past.

It was into such surroundings that we moved in July,
191 6, with our small staff, opened our ofiices on the top
floor, and installed our housekeeping arrangements be-
low. We were a small family in those days, as there were
only six sections at the front, and two tables in the
dining-room easily sufficed for the staff, permissionnaires,
and new men. I am sure that we all enjoyed our new
comfort to the full. Moreover, we appreciated the fact
that we could now face satisfactorily the supply problem

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TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

of the Service by laying up material and stores for the
future. The sections required a vast quantity of equip-
ment and supplies, which they could not carry with
them, but which they called for continually; and it was
now possible to obtain a large portion of these from
America and hold them for immediate issue. A store was
opened for the personal equipment of the men at whole-
sale prices. The large garden gave us not only adequate
room for the finished ambulances waiting to be driven
to the front, but also a space for cased chassis waiting
their turn to go to the body-builders.

The family soon grew rapidly, and during the next
winter "rue Raynouard," as we familiarly called the
estate, was taxed more and more. It seemed only
necessary, however, to hunt somewhere in the spacious
house and grounds, and new resources could always be
found to solve the housing problems as they arose.
These proved adequate for the Service, but with the
extraordinary development in the spring of 191 7, it was
decided that, for the comfort of the permissionnaires,
outside help must be sought. Again our generous donors
came to the rescue and the accommodations for men re-
turning from the front were transferred to the near-by
property, owned by the same family, at 5 rue Lekain.
This establishment under a separate housekeeper was
run as an annex to 21 rue Raynouard, which could no
longer be used for anything except office rooms and quar-
ters for the staff and servants, with the exception of the
two living-rooms and dining-rooms where the men con-
gregated. It was possible, however, to take care of all
the new men in the garden. Barracks and tents were
erected which furnished accommodations for the housing"
of about four hundred. The mess was run in the ancient
vaulted gallery under the topmost terrace which in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, had served as a
meeting-place for the elite who came to take the waters
of Passy.

The garden now w^ould have presented a strange sight

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

to a nobleman of those old days. Imagine him returning
to Passy and going on his old appointed way to the pas-
sage which leads to the subterranean spring. He would
find at its very entrance a large military barrack with
military equipment scattered about. Turning back in
dismay up the stone stairway, he would find it the same
with its ancient setting of trees and shrubberies, with
perhaps the ivy grown somewhat thicker over the stone
railing. But on reaching the upper terrace, where he was
wont to greet his friends on a beautifully kept lawn, he
would wander into a village of military barracks, and in
trying to find his way out might emerge to the right only
to find another military dormitory in the old greenhouse
where once the rarest of flowers were grown. In this con-
fusion he might try to seek a haven in the adjoining sub-
terranean gallery in the thought that its age and associa-
tions must have kept it sacred. But no — a long line of
tin cups and plates along the wall and the rows of plain
wooden tables the length of the gallery indicate a new
epoch, the illusion of which even the familiar dampness
and semi-darkness cannot dispel. He would turn toward
the old stone staircase which leads up through the house
to the court, only to find the entrance blocked by two
huge stoves on which the soup for the midday meal is
already steaming. He might now return by the garden,
and in turning toward the left he would notice a familiar
clump of trees sheltering a Swiss chalet, installed there
since his time, but years old in comparison with what he
has just seen. He would go in, perhaps, to rest for a
moment only to be greeted by a nurse in blue uniform
standing by a table covered with various medicine bottles
and glasses. She would inform him that the chalet was
now used as an infirmary for Field Service men whose
injuries or illnesses were not serious enough for treatment
at a military hospital. From here he might descend the
old alley and turn to go out by the large gate at the foot
of the park. A bit of familiar path, and soon he must pick
his way amidst a jumble of wrecked ambulances. He

478

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

would stop for a moment wondering what story the
wrecked engines, broken wheels, and shell-torn bodies
had to tell. And this graveyard of war would perhaps
stimulate his mind to a realization of what it all meant,
and a pardon for the apparent desecration of a spot
which he had so cherished.

Even though the average volunteer, as he passed
through " rue Raynouard " from time to time, did not,
perhaps, realize fully either the historical associations of
this charming old place, or, what was of most importance
to the staff, its wonderful adaptability to present needs,
yet each one must have appreciated the fact that this
spacious and homelike house and garden gave him a
splendid opportunity for contact with his fellow workers
and with men from other sections. Both around the long
tables at meal-time, in the living-rooms during the eve-
ning, and in summer under the trees or on the terraces of
the park, the various members of the Service rubbed
elbows with each other, and it was here that the new
man learned at first hand of the work he would be called
upon to do at the front. I could always tell from what
section permissionnaires had arrived the night before,
for the next morning the new men would come to my
office and beg to be sent out to that section, because, as
they assured me, it was the best and most active in the
Service.

How many stories of the Servdce were told and retold at
" rue Raynouard " ! Many of them have become legends.
You do not need to inquire of a man from Section Four
how Rockwell and Crane with super-mechanical ability
changed a rear axle with such precision that the ambu-
lance had to be driven in reverse from the poste de secoiirs
to the cantonment — every one knows it. The dread of
"Hogan's Alley" is no one's possession. You of Sections
Two and Four think you knew it best, but I am certain
that any ambiilancier can relate a tale about it with a
thrill that will outstrip any of your real experiences.
Section Three is convinced that it owns Alsace, but ask

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THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

any man in the Service and he will tell you just where the
" Charbonnier' s Comer" is. Perhaps Section Eight does
not know to this day how each individual ambulance
travelled from Lorraine to the Somme during the 191 6
attack, but ask anybody else how a "perfect convoy"
should be run and he can tell you.

Small and insignificant interests, perhaps, compared to
what was going on in France, but they were the day's
work of our sections and in their telling and retelling the
traditions of the Service grew. Time could never be dull
at Headquarters even for those who were confined there
permanently, for returning men each day brought some
news of the sections and friends at the front. That the
staff loved their task, even though the pressure of work
rarely allowed them a day's holiday, was mainly due to
this continual and stimulating contact.

An excellent opportunity presented itself at " rue Ray-
nouard," of giving the men as they arrived a chance to
come in touch with those who were helping to direct the
policies, thought, and activities of France, and also w4th
some of their own countrymen whose keen interest in the
Service reflected their sympathy for France. This was
the inauguration of a series of farewell dinners for the
sections, given on the eve of their departure for the
front. Any permissionnaires who happened to be at
Headquarters at the time were privileged to attend, so
that these dinners, which occurred at rather regular inter-
vals, were usually attended by fifty or sixty men and
sometimes more.

It is of interest to call attention to these informal
banquets, because the speakers endeavored not merely
to show their appreciation of the fact that men from all
parts of the United States were thus affiliating themselves
with the armies of France, but especially to point out the
significance of this fact, which gave courage to the hope
that more and more Americans would rally to the cause
until it might become a national one. Even when

480

a '-0

-3

5 Q

— ly

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

Ambassador Gerard was recalled from Germany, and
later, after war was declared, the Field Service was still
for some months the forerunner of the American army
in France, and so naturally these gatherings retained
their significance.

Let us look in for a moment at one of these dinners.
Section Fourteen is to leave to-morrow morning for the
front. The large panelled dining-room, its walls bare
except for the American and French flags crossed above
the speaker's table, is alive with the youthful faces of a
group of students who have crossed the continent as well
as the ocean to offer their services to France. This body
of men from Leland Stanford University was given an
unprecedented farewell by their enthusiastic fellow citi-
zens in a large mass meeting at San Francisco. In New
York, again, they were feted and cheered. Now that they
are leaving for their work at the front there is no great
throng to wish them luck, for the real business has be-
gun, but France has thought it worth while to send one
of her foremost ambassadors, rightly feeling that these
men represent a sympathy the seeds of which are fast
bearing fruit. And in addition to Ambassador Jules
Cambon, the other distinguished guests at the speaker's
table are Ambassador Sharp, Consul-General Thackara,
and Captain Aujay, as representative of the French
General Headquarters.

The excellent meal is over and the speeches have begun
to strike the keynote of the evening.

Mr. Andrew, in introducing Ambassador Sharp, lays
stress on the significance of the American volunteer's
presence in France:

You, who are here, will realize, as the days go by, that you
are not merely here to serve France, but that in a much more
real sense, you are here to serve your own country. You are
here to help in keeping alive in France that ancestral friend-
ship which dates from the beginnings of our own history.
You are here to make the people of France feel and realize
what the American people feel about them.

There are men here to-night from twenty-two different

481

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

States of the Union, the representatives of eighteen American
colleges and universities, and while for the next few months
you are going to be the ambassadors of America in France, for
the rest of your lives you will be the ambassadors of France in
America. You are going back to your homes after six months,
or nine months, or a year, or at the end of the war whenever it
may come, to tell the people in America what you have seen
and felt in France. You are not only going to tell them of the
beautiful heritages of the past which you have seen and are
going to see, but of the wonderful ideals of these French people,
what they stand for, and you are to make them believe that
these ideals are the ideals for which we stand, for which
America stands; the ideals which Jefferson brought back from
France, the ideals which were incorporated in the Declaration
of Independence and which form the fundamental compacts
of our Constitution.

Ambassador Sharp speaks in part as follows:

There is one thing that has come into my mind to-night in
connection v/ith the remarks of the Chairman, and especially
in connection with the name of this organization, and that is
this thought: that I know of no higher aim in life than the aim
to be of some real service to your fellowmen. I know of no
higher mission than that. I know that young men are thought-
less and that they live unto themselves a great deal for the
pleasures that are about them. It does take time and it does
take experience to come to realize the full measure of the truth
that I have uttered, that service to your fellowmen, after all, is
the measure of the fruitfulness of your own life in this brief
span that you are on earth. I know of no higher service, not
alone to be of service to your fellowmen, but to be of the kind
of service that you embarked upon when you left that far-off
City of the Golden Gate of California, speeding across the
three thousand miles of matchless territory, and across a coun-
try that, with all due deference to noble France, — I will not
say in the presence of those who thus honor France, her
superior, — oh no, not that, — but equal to any other country
on earth — your own country.

Some of you young men have been over on these shores a
little longer than others, some of you are very recent new-
comers. I have been over here several times in my lifetime, and
during this last stay now approaching three years. But if you
find the same experiences that I have found in living among
the delightful people of France, you will have many, many
pleasant recollections to treasure up in after years of your life.

482

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

In your service over here (for without undue praise, but just
that kind of tribute that is filled with truth), you will find that
there is no nobler, more exalted race of people on earth than
you will find in the domain of France.

You will find a constant inspiration here that causes the
people of France to be always, as a sort of inherent nature, as
it were, kindly disposed toward everybody, with an open
hand, with a desire to please, and above possibly any nation
with which I have had any experience, an inspired love of
country. And it is that love of country that has prompted the
men with whom you are so soon to become more or less asso-
ciated, to lay down their lives, just as your Chairman has
depicted here to-night, without thought, without care if that
sacrifice be to attain the undying principles for which France
is to-day giving up her best treasures.

Then Captain Aujay arises to extend to these young
volunteers the welcome of the French armies:

A pleasant journey and a good campaign to Section Four-
teen !

At the moment of your leaving, in order to proceed to our
front, this ancient dwelling, to which still clings the memory
of the great Franklin who once lived here, I wish to express,
in the name of the Director of the Automobile Service, the
good wishes and thanks of the French combatants whose perils
and glory you are about to share.

Willing champions of justice and right, you believed that it
was not sufficient to feel from the depths of your conscience
the horror of crime, the hatred of felony, the contempt of good
faith violated, and disgust at treachery; you wish to convert
your belief into action, and you have chosen one of the noblest
lines of action by consecrating yourselves to the relief of our
heroic wounded.

All, without exception, will remember, with a gratitude
which often brings tears, having seen American volunteers
mingle with the soldiers of France, under the same shells and
the same machine guns for the same ideals.

We have seen your Service, small at first, grow unceasingly
to the point of becoming at the present time the most impor-
tant collaboration that has been added to our Automobile
Service.

Let me repeat from the depths of my heart, a pleasant
journey and a good campaign to S.S.U-. Fourteen.

And so it was that many new friends, most of v/hom

483

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

have already been mentioned In a previous article, took
their place in the life of "rue Raynouard." Their mem-
ory is an added glory of those days: M. Hugues Le Roux,
with his ardent patriotism, exemplifying the sacrifice that
France was knowingly making without fear or hesita-
tion ; Captain Gabriel Puaux, and his brother Lieutenant
Rene Puaux, who had served respectively on General
Joffre's and General Foch's staffs, and who brought us
not only nearer to the glory of the armies, but also to
the culture and learning of France; Abbe Dimnet, bring-
ing French university life near; M. Etienne Grosclaude,
with his fund of knowledge of the political thoughts of
the day; Mr. Robert Bacon, by his own example best
symbolizing the possible extent of the force of one man's
activity in bringing about a closer friendship and under-
standing between two countries; and among others of
our countrymen whose interest brought them to us,
Colonel (now General) Marlborough Churchill, Dr. John
H. Finley, Mr. Frank H. Simonds, and Mr. Will Irwin.
There was no other fixed form of entertainment for the
men at " rue Raynouard." It was felt that in furnishing
a library, writing- and living-rooms, each man would find
there what he wished for himself. Organized entertain-
ment was not necessary, and its absence helped more
than anything else in conser\'ing the charm of the place
as a home for the men. Even during the period of the
greatest activity of the Service, these rooms were always
open for the men to talk, loaf, read, or write in. In the
minds of most of the members, however, the memory of
"rue Raynouard "is not alone that of a comfortable home.
Mingled in its associations is the recollection of the busy
service that was being performed there, and it is inter-
esting to note that various members, who long afterward
have written down their impressions of their first days in
the Service, have placed the emphasis on the activity the
newcomer found ther.e. So much of this activity directly
concerned the men themselves that a short description
of some of its phases may be the means of casting light

484

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

on the important elements of the volunteer's life at " rue
Raynouard."

In spite of all the papers needed In America before
embarking on the steamer, the moment the volunteer
arrived in France provision had to be made for his safe
conduct, and orders sent to Bordeaux to bring him to
Paris under a military pass. Once there, in the eyes of
the French Government he was still a civilian, and would
be until the armies could control his movements. Cer-
tain papers for residence in France had to be obtained
and at the same time a request made for military papers
to enable him to be sent to the front. Satisfactory rela-
tions with the various French bureaux had to be main-
tained for these purposes. There could be no inaccuracy
in the details gi^'en, for France could not afford to be in
any doubt as to what neutrals were in her country or
among her armies.

The newcomer must be taught to drive a Ford. He
must obtain his uniform and the equipment which ex-
perience had taught was necessary. He must be innocu-
lated for typhoid and given a medical examination. All
this had practically to be done for him. It was not in
itself a great task, but it became so when it had to be
concentrated into the limited time of a few days. The
men had come over for work at the front and their place
was there, not in Paris. Furthermore, steamers arrived
every week from America with new men, so that as many
as possible must be sent off to the front before the next
boatload arrived.

Supplies also brought their problems. All Ford chassis
and spare parts, and some of the equipment and food
supplies came from America. Their unloading at Bor-
deaux or Havre was only the beginning of the work they
entailed. Chassis could be brought by road when drivers
and mechanics were available, but usually not enough
men could be spared, and representatives sent to the
ports must pick out their own shipment from among

485

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

the innumerable boxes and cases which littered the
whar\^es, and often overflowed into the adjoining streets
and squares. To be sure, military requirements took prec-
edence, but precedence was of little avail when not even
half enough shipping space on the trains was available
for military necessities alone. Constant ingenuity and
labor were required, and even then delays could not be
avoided.

But even the demands of men and supplies coming
from America were only half the detail work that had
to be done. The front had its claim, and the sections
must be provided with whatever they required. Also the
men at the front were continually writing for new per-
sonal equipment, and such purchases must be attended
to without delay. Packages and mail from America must
be sorted and redistributed. The men's money left in our
charge must be sent to them on demand, and their pass-
ports, expiring after six months, must be renewed. Above
all, food and beds must be furnished for all who returned
from the front, and economical catering for an uncertain
household was not at all an easy task, for it was not at
all unusual for from twenty to fifty men to drop in during
the day without previous warning. As many supplies as
possible must be bought in France, a difficult task, in-
deed, when the demands of the war had long since out-
distanced production in every field. It required constant
effort to meet the needs of the sections in procuring
tools of all kinds — tents, ambulance accessories, equip-
ment, etc. Our headquarters, too, called for supplies
such as beds, blankets, and coal for an ever-increasing
household.

Add to this detail work the supervision of a small
hospital established on the grounds for men of the
Service, and the reader will have some knowledge of the
organization of " rue Raynouard" as the volunteer saw it.
The general direction of the Service and the maintenance
of relations with the French authorities, with other
organizations, and with the donors of cars, naturally

486

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

centred here, but this did not form a part of the activity
with which the average member was familiar. The detail
work of the staff did, however, because this directly
affected the men and indeed very often required their
cooperation. The registration at Police Headquarters
for procuring the newcomer's papers, and his purchase in
Paris of such equipment as could not be supplied at
headquarters, necessitated the help of the more experi-
enced men in piloting the others about the city. Learn-
ing to drive on old "74;" became a serious matter, for,
until the test was passed, there was no chance of being
sent to the front. The need for equipment brought every
one in contact with the headquarters store and with
those who served there, and I do not think that there was
a pleasanter store to deal with in all Paris. Ford chassis
meant trips to Bordeaux with some member of the staff
in charge, and a trip through the chateau country, fur-
nishing, perhaps, almost as vivid a memory of France as
the front gave later on. The handling of cases arriving
by rail impressed upon the men that a day laborer's job
was often a part of the soldier's game, and any one who
had had any experience with clerical work or typewriting
found himself detailed to help keep the records in shape.
So in the first few days of their stay in France, they
took their turns in working with the staff. They learned
to know its personnel, and they found, what must have
been a satisfaction to them, that no hours were too long,
day or night, when there was work to be done. There
were comparatively few on the staff at " rue Raynouard."
The call of the front was too enticing for volunteers, and
an organization maintained by voluntary subscription
is limited in its quest for help. There were certainly
never more than twenty- five under whose jurisdiction
were maintained the general office for papers and records,
the cashier's department, the buying department, the
store and mail-order office, the publication of the "Field
Service Bulletin," driving instruction, the dining- and
mess-rooms, the dormitories, the infirmary, the post-

487

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

office, baggage storeroom, etc. The cheerful willing-
ness and cooperation in meeting the day's task, to
whatever hour of the night it led, made life very pleasant
for those whose privilege it was to direct the Servdce, and
it played an important part in the affection which the
men had for "rue Raynouard."

It is undoubtedly true that it would have been possible
to carry on the work of the American Field Service with-
out "rue Raynouard," and that the actual work of the
sections at the front would have accomplished the same
results. And yet the place somehow had its part in every
activity of the Service, supplying something which made
life for the men pleasanter. There was no need of a home
— certainly no need of a beautiful home — and yet how
much happier the men were for it, and how much pleas-
anter that it should be the finest in Paris. It w^as not
necessary that the men returning from the front should
find there a meeting-place for friends, but it helped pass
many a pleasant hour for them. It was not essential to
the life at the front that there should be a place where
the men could have personal matters attended "to, and
yet in providing this for them, "rue Raynouard" must
have added much to the efficiency of their service.

Again, it served in the part the Field Service was play-
ing in bringing together the two countries. There the
American volunteer came in close contact with those
things in France which would necessarily appeal to him
most. In the generosity of the gift, he first found the
welcome which he was never allowed to forget. There he
found opportunities of meeting French people other than
his friends in the Army, and so gain a glimpse of the
normal life of France. And on the other hand, "rue
Raynouard " attracted Frenchmen from every branch of
military and civilian life, who learned much of America
from this contact with her young representatives.

And so we find the place that " rue Raynouard " filled
never particularly defined, but always associated in some
way with the men and their work. The affection which

488

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

the men bore it marked it definitely as their home in
France. This would have been sufficient, but beyond this
were the opportunities it gave to add to the scope of the
Service. In looking back over those years one wonders if
it was not, perhaps, "rue Raynouard " itself — and not
only the surroundings, but the happy and unselfish spirit
which reigned there, making light of heavy tasks — that
gave the necessary courage for continually furthering the
scope of the American Field Service, and above all that
made this Service such an important participant in the
cause of France.

Stephen Galatti

Ill

Memories of 21 Rue Raynouard

The old Headquarters at 21 rue Raynouard are closed;
the courtyard is no longer crowded with staff cars,
trucks, and camionnettes: all the old wrecks have been
cleaned out of the garden; the extra barracks are down,
and everything will soon return to pre-war conditions.
It is a sad time for many of us as we see the breaking-up
of the companionships, friendships, and associations of
more than four years of tremendous, tiring, worrying,
but successful effort. It is a good time to look back and
remember again some of our impressions of the old Field
Service in the days when it was the only American or-
ganization in the war, so that we may carry away with
us — vividly in our minds — the joys and sorrows, strug-
gles, and successes of those days.

Once again you have just joined the American Field
Service; your wild efforts to get a birth certificate only to
find you had never been officially born, your horrible
rush to the photographer, your trips to the French
Consul, to the passport bureau, to the steamship office,
your sad farewells with family and friends are finished.
You are on board the steamer, land has faded from sight,
and you are actually on your way to France. Do you
remember the thrill of that thought? A week of unevent-
ful shipboard life followed, with nothing but lifeboat drills
to break the monotony. Then one morning some French
sailors in uniform appeared and the gun on the stern was
uncovered, cleaned, and tried out; the naval officer, who
up to that day had spent all his time playing bridge in
the smoking-room, mounted the bridge and took com-
mand of the ship. Two days and two nights of tense ex-
citement followed as the ship steamed through the sub-
marine zone, and then one morning you went on deck to
find yourself quietly sailing up the Gironde; and a 'few

490

ox TllK TKUUA( i: AT "21

MR. ANDREW ADDRESSING A G-ROUP OF NEWLY ARRIVED
VOLUNTEERS ON THE LAWN AT "21"

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

hours later you were actually landed in Bordeaux.
France! France itself, and the first step of your journey
to take part in the war was accomplished.

Do you remember your trip across the city, and then
your trip through the beautiful vineyard region around
Bordeaux and the Garden of France around Tours up to
Paris? At Paris you were met at the station by a man in
khaki uniform who seemed to be most efficient, who knew
his way about the dimly lit station, got your baggage,
bundled it and you into the back of an ambulance, and
whizzed you around corners and through black streets for
an interminable time until you were finally deposited in
the courtyard of "21." You did n't sleep very well that
night; things had been happening so fast that you had n't
had time to digest them, and you lay awake there in bed
and thought them out.

The next morning followed your introduction to the
men who were to guide your destinies for the next six
months: " Doc," who greeted you cordially, told you how
glad he was to welcome you to the Service, warned you of
the — ahem — evils of Paris, made you feel you were the
one man in all America he had been hoping would come
over, and passed you over to "Steve"; " Steve," the ad-
joint, who, as you later found was usual with all adjoints,
had to know everything and to do everything connected
with the Service, and was in general so busy that you won-
dered when he ever even had time to eat and sleep. Then
there was " Bud " Fisher, who took the greatest delight in
rushing you from one end of Paris to the other, from the
Prefecture de Police to the Commissaire de Police, from
the rue Pinel to Kellner's at Boulogne, and who made
you sign your name to so many papers that you knew you
would never again be a free and independent American.
There was " Bobby " Gooch, who had to pronounce upon
your ability or inability as a driver ; there was Peter Kent
who seemed to be always rushing to meet trains and who
was always in such a hurry that he hardly had time for a
"Hallo." Also there were Huffer, and M. and Mme.

491

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Grimbert, Mile. Betourne, Jeanne and Miss Lough, con-
cerning whose duties you were never exactly clear except
that the latter could scold you within an inch of your life
if she found you doing anything to upset the household
arrangements.

Were you fortunate and were you rushed through in a
week to join an old section in the field, or did things
break badly for you so that you were held in Paris for
some time? Do you remember the nondescript costume
you went around in for the first few days — a service
cap, a khaki flannel shirt, and a civilian suit — and do
you remember the perfect pride you felt the day your
uniform came home from Lloyd's and you first sallied
forth in it? Then there were the blankets, the cot, and
the field equipment to get, the Permis de Sejour, the
Permis de Conduire, the Carjiet d'Etranger, and all the
other French papers to obtain. Your evenings you spent
in the big living-room listening to the stories of actual
service told by the permissioimaires, those proud men
wdth the soft, flappy caps, who had actually seen that
mystic place "the front " ; or else you sat on the terrace of
the Cafe de la Paix drinking portos, dined at the Cajh
de Paris, went to the Alhambra or the Folies, and walked
all the way home to Passy through the inky-black streets
after the Metro had stopped running. Finally, however,
your period of preparation was finished by a call to
"Steve's" office, where you were then told you were to
go out to Section Blank. Section Blank! Will you ever
forget Section Blank?

You remember your arrival at the Section ; you remem-
ber that first night in cantonment; you remember your
first trip to a paste as orderly on another driver's car ; you
remember the first arrivee you ever heard; you remember
the first soixante-qidnze that unexpectedly went off rather
close to you ; you remember the first time you ever took
a car out at night by yourself; those things are indelibly
impressed on your mind. But do you remember the first
permission, when you came back to "21 " and were wel-

492

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

corned by "Doc" and "Steve" as though you were the
prodigal son returned? What tales you had to tell the
new arrivals ; how fine it felt to walk along the boulevards
and know that you had actually been "in it" along with
all these brothers in blue with whom you rubbed shoul-
ders. They surely were wonderful days.

Each one of you has his own particular set of reminis-
cences which he will never forget, and which will form his
contribution to the evening's entertainment in the years
to come when this group gets comfortably settled in the
club's big leather chairs — there is no need to recall any
of these to our minds.

And now it is over, and "21 " is closed for good. We
must say good-bye to the old days, but we will keep them
in our memory among our finest possessions.

J. R. Greenwood

The Last Days at " 21 "

It will always be pleasant in after years to look back
through the softening mists of memory on the days
spent within the hospitable walls of old *"' 21 " during the
few weeks that preceded its closing.

They were indeed days for reminiscence. It was per-
haps the only place in France where an amhulancier or
camionnier could feel perfectly at home. And not among
the least of the satisfactions of visiting it was the fact
that there distinctions of rank, which the American
army enforced with a punctiliousness that reached the
point of falling over backward, were forgotten. It was no
mean privilege for those who joined the army and re-
mained in the ranks to feel that because of common tra-
ditions of old Field Service days, one could say "Bill"
and ' ' J ack " to an old friend at " 2 1 " regardless of how he
was dressed or regardless of how one would have ad-
dressed him had he been encountered anywhere else. The
democracy in which most Field Service men lost faith
after they joined the army happily did not suffer at " 21."
There were no separate messes in the dining-room, and I
venture to say that American army discipline was not
weakened by that fact.

The closing weeks were an opportune time for meeting
friends of other days. Ambulance men met friends of
other sections to recall, perhaps, that their last meeting
had been one night at the front at such and such a place
before the Armistice; camion men, who went with am-
bulance sections to Italy and then became aspirants in
French artillery, saw those who remained in the Service
and fought over the days at Jouaignes when they were all
toiling through the dust on the Chemin des Dames. It
seemed that almost all old Field Service men somehow

494

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

or other got to Paris, either to spend three days' leave or
else to wait for a boat to go home.

It will always be pleasant to remember such afternoons
passed lounging about in the salon, fighting over old pin-
ard bouts or more redoubtable battles, waiting for five
o'clock when tea was to be served, browsing through a
book that was always within reach on a table, discussing
anything from politics to religion before the cosy fireplace,
flouting the exaggerated stories of how our compatriots
won the war after the French and English lost it, waiting
for the arrival of funds from some source or other. It was
a pleasant life, and it made a returning aspirant linger a
few days longer with perfect content when he learned that
his sailing date had been postponed. At "21 " radicals
could talk with perfect frankness and simple soldats of
the American army could give vent to their feelings, and
youthful reformers could castigate modern society and
feel sure that the walls had no army ears.

Every one looked with regret at the passing of 21 rue
Raynouard and all that was associated with it. Priority
and length of service in France, better understanding of
the French, and numerous other things had, after all has
been said and done, created an esprit de corps and a close-
ness of comradeship among those who volunteered in
the American Field Service such as existed among no
other body of Americans in France. Most of us now are
glad that our service in the American army had kept us
with the French army, and heartily concurred in admira-
tion of its soldiers.

"Their manners, their ways of expressing themselves,
Their courage which nothing can quench;
The humanest lot that were ever begot,
Thank God, we've been with the French!"

David Darrah

O Young Days !

Early sunlight on the cobbled courtyard, the stones cool
and fresh from the night's showers, a gurgle of gay water
down the gutter of rue Raynouard and the babble of
many birds below in the green garden! Spring! Paris!
The Field Service ! And now we must say good-bye to it

— that was home to us for so long — our centre of the
universe.

How alive life was then — young — full of anticipated
unknowns — zestful! Lord, we were rich then and did
not know it half ! We — the little ones who barked
pettily up the trees of our small discontents, yet not
meaning a quarter of our noise — as those who looked out
for us were wise enough to know. We barked to hide the
loneliness and fears of our hearts ! And perhaps because
we were ashamed to be as happy in such a moment as
we really were. For we were in good hands, we new-
comers !

Who stood on the terrace and gazed up at the slim
lines in gray of the Eiffel Tower, and did not pinch him-
self to realize — the reality of it all? Whose breath did
not catch in his throat as his eyes saw the house-tops, his
ears heard the faint bustle of the city, and his soul
reached out to comprehend?

O young days ! O Service that for all our own blindness
was a big part of our whole being ! Service of friendships

— and even a dim appreciation of France. We shall
think often of you. All our little jobs were somehow
haloed by it — from pounding typewriters to digging
rain ditches round the tents. The front has been sung in
all its phases — but after all we are going to remember
almost as often the first days of the new existence in
Paris in the ranks of the A.F.S.

Any one who has passed but an hour within the glow-

496

TWENTY-ONE RUE RAYNOUARD

ing shadow of " rue Raynouard " can for all his life con-
jure up a memory that helps him. And in that memory
are warm handclasps, good cheer and encouraging words,
and kind faces. Perhaps we did n't realize it, but ever so
slightly as they pressed upon the individual in the addled
multitude of us the Chef and his Aide touched us every
one — and we were different — were it even but a little.
And we are grateful. Those two we looked to as the
supreme powers of life. We cursed them if we had a
tummy-ache — or if it rained. We sang their praises if
sun and stars were bright. And only when we were shot
out of the homeliness of "21 " into the blare of the cut-
side and the front did we realize what they stood for in our
lives. Then to come back to them for a day — or a
moment — their smiles carried us over hard leagues
without notice of the hummocks in our way. I think
we'll not forget.

That life in the spring of 1917! Breakfast in the cave!
The big tin mess-kits — the hot milk, coffee, sugar even,
and bread — to be arranged in various enchanting com-
binations. The wondrous breathlessness of those morn-
ings before the day took fire and became hot. When the
sky was aglow with pale colors — when the Tower cut
clear as a sword held high, and the tricolor stood out
a-top, stiff and brilliant against the blue. And the Seine
below there glittering through the green. The joy of
being alive — and ready, and busy a bit — made even
those moments of marking time precious.

Did you perhaps drive a staff car with packages to rue
Pinel, all across Paris so early of a morning? The war-
blue car pattering through the cool streets of the waken-
ing world — where one's heart was forever a-jump with
the glory of exquisite, quick-passing vistas. To return
when the city was already warming dustily to its daily
toiling, and draw deep breaths of living! Perhaps you
went to the gares to fetch back arriving Chefs, or baggage,
and watched the swarm of poilus and dreamed of the
front. There was little of khaki then.

497

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Or perchance It was toil all morning in the storeroom,
arranging blankets, canteens, and such — hot, back-
stiffening, but not dull because of the dream in the back
of your head. And you could stop for a moment and lean
out of the wide window, taste the air of Paris, and look
across the tree-green and river-blue to the shimmer of
ivory buildings beyond, with the tumbled bustling great
clouds behind.

In the general office the bang of continuous type-
writers as the fiches innumerable were wrung out ! Room
cards arranged, and then gone over, and gone over again.
Even shifting baggage in the cinema was possible — and
it underwent the same transformation as all the other
detail dirty work, just because of the Service. Somehow
it was n't the army grind, nor the drabness of a "job."
And one can't explain it quite — except that it was
something inside that rested content not to be showy.

Then the hours afterward. To tread the streets of
myriad dreamings — to take pride in saluting French
galons. How in their innards they must have been
amused, those precious officers, at our youngness and
importance. To wander about, with a chum or two, find-
ing our pleasures in the simplest way — of necessity —
since we were not even thirty-dollar-a-month million-
aires then. The long sweet dusks. . . .

Old Service that mothered us — days that petted
us — and Chefs that we came more and more to admire.
. . . How silly we are! Our gratitude is not a thing to
be put in words — you could see it perhaps in our eyes
. . . We cannot speak it.

J. W. D. Se^t^iour

Training and Supply Centres

The Officers' Training-School at Meaux

The American Field Service boasted many remarkable
sections, but Section Twenty, which was the technical
name of the training-schools of the Field Service, was
unique. It achieved among other remarkable feats the
geometric impossibility of being in two places at the same
time. In fact Section Twenty as a united whole existed only
as an administrative fiction, an abstract conception of
French paperasserie. The only reason for joining its two
otherwise independent parts under one number was that
both were commanded by that able and energetic French
officer, Lieutenant de Kersauson. But if the link between
them was tenuous, each sub-section, considered by itself,
had a positive existence and a career not without im-
portance in the history of the Field Service. Let us
consider first the elder branch, elder both in age and
dignity — Section Twenty, CI. A. (Centre d' Instruction
Automobile).

During the spring of 191 7 the Field Service was rapidly
expanding. The pace of the creation of four sections a
year, which had looked good in 191 6, was now speeded
up to a section a month ; and there was every prospect
that this was merely a warming-up jog around the track

499

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

compared to what was to come later. The organization
had to grow or be swamped. It grew; and one phase of
its growth was the formation of both parts of Section
Twenty. One vital need was to provide Chefs for all the
new sections about to be formed, and to this end Com-
mandant Doumenc, head of the Automobile Service of
all the French armies, very courteously acceded to Mr.
Andrew's suggestion and opened the French Automobile
Officers' School in Meaux to members of the American
Field Service.

They were a picked crowd, this first body of eleves
officiers americains — all men who had proved their worth
by long experience in the field, or newer comers of ex-
ceptional promise. Muhr, of Section Fourteen, and Free-
born, ^ of Section Two, dated back to the prehistoric days
when the "Tent Section " went out. Henderson, of Sec-
tion Fifteen, had been with Three in Alsace, while Iselin,
of Twelve, Struby, of Two, Bigelow, of Four, Dodge,
of Eight, and Read, of Thirteen, had been in harness
for a year or more. Colford, of Thirteen, Wallace,
of Twenty-Eight, Richmond, of Thirty, Houston,^ of
Twelve, Dougherty, of Thirteen, and Barton, of Fifteen,
were the cream of the younger generation of our ambu-
lance drivers.

The Daily Tasks

The first class at Meaux started in April and the Ameri-
cans plunged at once into the work. From seven to nine
every morning they listened and took voluminous notes,
while the always patient Lieutenant Oliveau explained

1 Charles James Freeborn, of Paris, France; Yale; served as aide to
Mr. Andrew from March, 1915, and as Chef of Section Two from March
to September, 1917; subsequently a Captain in the U.S. Army, and Liaison
officer with the French, General Headquarters; died of pneumonia, Febru-
ary 12, 1919.

2 Henry Howard Houston, 2d, of Philadelphia; University of Pennsyl-
vania; served in Section Twelve from February, 19 17, and as Chef of
Transport Section One-Thirty-Three until July 30, 1917; subsequently a
First Lieutenant in the U.S. Field Artillery; killed by shell August 18, 1918.

500

Westbrook

Cadman
Gile

Scully Daly ,

Tinkham Bangs

The Drill Hour !

Kennedy

Class in practical technique, outside the barrack where chassis and motors were

taken down and reassembled

ONE OF THE EARLIEST OFFICERS' SCHOOLS AT MEAUX

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

the nature of the Zenith carburetor and the position of
bearings in a full-floating rear axle; they learned to apply
the formula; for adherence, tractive force, and over-all
efficiency; they almost came to understand what happens
when a Ford is put into reverse; and they copied from the
blackboard complicated mechanical diagrams which,
transferred to their notes, resembled combinations of an
Enterprise meat-chopper with a White Mountain ice-
cream freezer.

After ''technique,^' there was drill, real poilu drill with
rifles, under Marechal des Logis Pallier, Then came lunch-
eon, and, in the afternoon, shop work — taking down
and reassembling Fords, watching a skilled mechanic
perform miracles of forging, brazing, bearing-scraping;
and finally there was freehand drawing. Oh, how every-
body hated freehand drawing when a half-hour's anx-
ious labor over the plan-view of a piston resulted, as
the instructor cheerfully pointed out, in something
resembling more than anything else a sprouting seed
potato.

Later in the afternoon came topography; service in-
terieur, the first duty of a soldier; service de place, the law
of garrison towns; amphi-militaire, the organization of the
French Army with special reference to the rules of the
Automobile Service. This last was perhaps the hardest
course for old-timers to follow seriously. The problems
were so familiar, and yet the theoretically correct answers
were so different from the well-remembered practice. How,
for instance, could a former Chef of Section Eight reply
with a straight face that a section changing cantonment
proceeds in strict convoy formation, in unchanging order,
and at regular rate of speed? For was there not fresh in
his mind that record-breaking trip when this particular
section's cars spread fanwise over all the roads of eastern
France, each following the moment's whim, and finally
found their destination by a process of elimination, after
visiting every village in the army zone until they had
been to all the wrong ones?

501

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

It was hard to remember that the commander of a
section needing spare parts makes out a bon and sends
it to the C.S.A. of his division, who forw^ards it to the
C.S.A. of the corps, who forwards it to the C.S.A. of the
army, who forwards it to the Lieutenant in charge of the
magasins des pieces de rechange at the army pare, who
forwards it to the M.C.A., from which, if the bo7t is ap-
proved, the desired article returns by almost as tortuous a
channel. Every American present knew that such a pro-
cedure would bring no results within the duration of the
war and that the only way of getting anything was to
write a personal letter — "Dear Steve: Unless we have
band rivets in twenty-four hours, the Section can't roll "

— and, if possible, drop it in a civilian mail box.

It was difficult to believe that miscellaneous supplies
of all kinds are to be asked for through the Major de
Cantonnement instead of being obtained after dark from

— well, there is no need of giving away trade secrets!
But whether or not one was sceptical, all these theoret-
ically correct answers had to be learned, for the profes-
sors at Meaux take no cognizance of such a thing as
"Systeme P." Who says that hypocrisy is unknown
among the French?

So the days passed along, with variations on some
afternoons when actual convoy runs with real Fierce-
Arrow trucks were made and the boys took turns in
commanding the convoy and issued orders to fit imagi-
nary conditions devised by the instructor. "The Section
will leave Meaux at 13.30, from pare at Barcy," the order
would run, "load thirty tons of barbed wire at Esbly
Gare, and return to Meaux." Receiving such an order at
13.25, the Commander for the day hurriedly appointed
his guide and serre-fil, looked up the road, jumped into
the stafif car, and hurried off to confer with merely hy-
pothetical Commissaires de la Gare and Officiers du Genie.
Returning, he generally found his convoy either on the
wrong road or spread out over a mile or two with the
rear-ram drivers standing on their accelerators. Finally,

502

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

when the day was over and all the lost sheep safely parked
again along the Marne, Lieutenant de Kersauson would
go over the day's misadventures at length and with
point, never omitting a single railroad crossing left un-
guarded or temporary bridge rolled over in close forma-
tion,

Sunday, theoretically a day of rest, was mostly spent
in getting notes up to date. No one ran down to Paris
for the afternoon, for those were the strict old days of
Captain Champeloux and his wonderful Second Bureau.

The Tortures of the Crammed

Thus five weeks went by with lectures and study, dirt
and flies, and many little trips to the corner cafe for
creme de menthe glacee, until at last examination time
arrived, when the written tests were found not to be so
very bad. True, most of the class drew inverse cone
clutches that could never have been taken apart, forgot
how many kilogrammetres are produced by one calorie,
and ordered their convoy to travel in the wrong direction
on a sens unique route gardee. Still, as examinations go,
the class came through not badly; that is, so far as " the
written" was concerned. But, oh, "the oral"! Strange
that men who had driven calmly through shell-fire
and aeroplane bombardment should have blanched and
trembled so at the questions of a group of benevolent old
officers. But the fact is that every one was fussed, and
some were awfully fussed. However, no ordeal lasts for-
ever; the examining board withdrew for consultation, and
to the disconsolate groups of candidates, each sure that
he had disgraced himself forever, came suddenly the
glorious news that every one had passed !

And so it was all over! No, it was not! The scene sim-
ply shifted to the parade ground where a detachment of
poiluswas drawn up. And then more agony! Freeborn or-
dered " Armes sur rSpaule'* three times, but, having for-
gotten the order of execution, got no answer whatever,
and came back to "Garde d vous." Every one took his

503

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

turn. Some did poorly and some worse, but all went
through the most miserable minutes of their lives, when
finally even this refinement of torture ended, and then
it was nothing but handshakes, dinners, speeches, and
congratulations.

Then, every eight weeks, another American class grad-
uated from Meaux with varying experiences and success.
None of them, however, equalled this first "bunch."
The later classes boasted some glorious good fellows, some
redoubtable techniciens, but their story is matter-of-fact
and colorless in comparison with the doings of the pion-
eers. To the first fourteen belong all the glamour and
credit of new adventure. With no record of other men's
success to sustain them, they blazed the new trail. They
established the record of S.S.U. Twenty, CI. A., and —
the "breaks" they made at examination were negligible
compared to the general average — they set the standard
high. Their successors maintained that standard, but
the glory belongs to the pioneers.

John R. Fishery

^ Of Arlington, Vermont; Columbia, '04; joined the Field Service in
May, 1916; served in Section Two, at Headquarters, and as commander of
the Training-Camp at May-en-Multien; later a Lieutenant and Captain
in charge of a Pare of the U.S.A. Ambulance Service.

The Service Training-Camp at May-en-Multien

"Kindergarten"

If the branch of Section Twenty at Meaux was a sort
of post-graduate course for the chosen few, the branch
at May-en-MuItlen was more like a kindergarten class
through which all new ambulance drivers had to pass.
Its establishment was due to the same sudden enlarge-
ment of the Field Service; for during the spring of 191 7
the greatly increasing numbers of volunteers arriving from
America began seriously to overtax accommodations at
21 rue Raynouard. Many new sections were formed and
sent to the front, but as the weeks went by it became
more and more evident that ambulances could not be
turned out fast enough to take care of the supply of men.
The presence in Paris of a large number of idle ambulan-
ciers killing time and wasting money about town was
recognized as being equally bad for the men and for the
reputation of the Service ; so steps were at once taken to
organize a training-camp where recruits could receive in-
struction under conditions approximating the healthy life
of field sections. A suitable site was found nineteen kil-
ometres northeast of Meaux, where a friend of the Service
offered the use of a large empty mill building, just below
the village of May-en-lVIultien, in the historic, mosquito-
haunted, but beautiful valley of the Ourcq.

Section Twenty, D.A.F.S. (Depot of the American
Field Service), began its active existence on June 12, 1917,
when the first detachment of one hundred and fifty-two
men arrived by train at Crouy-sur-Ourcq and marched
two miles over to the Moulin de May-en-Multien, where
they found the camp not altogether unprepared for them.
The four floors of the old stone mill building had been
cleaned out and one hundred and seventy cot-beds set up.

505

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

But beyond this, nothing! However, the day was clear
and warm, and the officers improvised lengthy speeches
until the hurriedly despatched camio7t could get back
from Meaux with materials for a cold lunch. So every
one finally had something to eat, and all started to work
in good spirits organizing the cantonment.

Progress at first was slow. For many days the men ate
their meals sitting on the stones of the paved courtyard
and washed as best they could in the mill brook. But
they never complained at hardships which, though light
when compared to those endured by men at the front,
were enough to try the temper of new recruits. Above
all, they and their successors were willing to work; and,
divided into squads under leaders chosen from among
their own number, they did fatigue duty, and learned
French drill and practised driving as much as possible.
But let us be honest about this last statement. Not much
in the way of driving was possible during the first weeks,
for there were but three Fords, no tools, and many break-
downs. A volunteer squad of mechanics, with a pair of
pliers, strong fingers, and lots of good- will, did indeed
change a valve spring; but no amount of ingenuity could
improvise new bands for the camionnette.

The real work at the start was the improvement of ma-
terial conditions, and this went on rapidly. First, tents
were set up in the courtyard for shelter in wet weather,
which, later, w^ere replaced by a long baraque Adrian
furnished with tables and benches enough to seat a full
camp. At meals, instead of the slow procession of men
carrying individual mess-kits, there was substituted a
service by platters, one man bringing in the food, hot
from the stove, for his table of eight. In the kitchen four
civilian cooks, working over a hotel range, established
the camp's reputation for good food. The cellar was
cleaned out, bins were built, and the reserve stock of
food was kept in good condition. After meals, two
lessiveuses provided warm water for washing mess-kits.
Improvement was made in the management of the food-

506

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

supply problem, too; and it was needed. At first no
one knew anything whatever about it. Every morning
a couple of men were chosen from the crowd, one of
whom was reasonably sure to get the car to Meaux and
back, and the other speaking a little French. A hurried
consultation was held with the cooks, some money was
advanced, and then the car went off and brought back
almost anything it could get. But as time went on, the
ravitaillement was put under more competent manage-
ment when we found it possible to provide plenty of good
food at a cost which compared favorably with the ex-
penses of other sections.-

Meanwhile, the personnel of the camp was anything
but static. During all the confusion of organization, men
were being sent out and recruits were coming in from
America. Toward the end of the month, Sections Sixty-
Four and Sixty-Five went olT, forty-four men in each, to
drive French gear-shift cars. A few days later the camp
was again full to overflowing, only to be almost immedi-
ately cleaned out by the arrival of a telegram calling for
three gear-shift sections on the next day. It was a hec-
tic twenty-four hours.

Units and Sections

Theoretically the formation of a section is not diffi-
cult. One consults the list of available men, selects the
necessary number, and the thing is done. But it never
worked out that way in actual practice. Men persisted
in not thinking of themselves as numerical units. They
came from America in little groups from the same college ;
they had friends in sections at the front ; they had formed
friendships on the steamer; and were absolutely convinced

1 Editor's Footnote : — Mrs. John R. Fisher, wife of the CO. of the Camp
in May, rendered a devoted and invaluable service at this time, by taking
charge of the camp mess, making daily visits to the neighboring market
and supervising the preparation of the meals for the two hundred men of
the camp. Mrs. Fisher, who writes under the name of Dorothy Canfield,
has given in her volume, Home Fires in France, some appealing pictures of
French life in the near-by town of Crouy during these months.

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

that the war would be lost if these things were not taken
into consideration in the forming of a new section. These
groups and friendships must not be broken up. Yet to some
extent these preferences had to be overruled. A war was
going on, although at peaceful May-en-Multien it was
often hard to believe it. But it was the policy of the camp
to overrule as little as possible. Granted that a war can-
not be run along lines of personal convenience, neverthe-
less, the fact remains that, other things being equal, a con-
tented man will do better work than a disgruntled one.
This principle being admitted, the selection of personnel
for a section became an almost endless affair of making
one tentative list after another.

On one particular night the job was more than ever
complicated by the presence among the latest arrivals
of an Amherst College unit which neglected to announce
its existence until the lists were all posted, when it re-
ceived the news in anything but a tranquil spirit, that it
was to be split up. However, late that night, after enough
labor to organize a successful offensive, all the necessary
exchanges were finally put through, and next morn-
ing Sections Sixty-Six, Sixty-Seven, and Sixty-Eight, all
more or less homogeneous and more or less satisfied,
marched off, loaded their baggage on the train, and dis-
appeared into the zone reservee.

The Camp at Top Speed

July began with a lull, but soon became as busy as
June had been, with the exception that, the camp being
better organized and every one understanding the work
better, the machinery of camp life, the receiving and
despatching of contingents, ran with considerably less
friction. Six sections went out: Thirty, Thirty-One, and
Thirty-Two, on Fords, and Sixty-Nine, Seventy, and
Seventy-One, on various sorts of French ambulances.

The comfort of camp also improved. A regulation army
lavabo was set up outside the gate, a piano hired, and a
small cooperative store and circulating library put into

508

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

operation. On the little drill ground those who preferred
to take their recreation leisurely pitched horseshoe quoits
in liberty hours, while the more actively inclined played
many and exciting games of indoor baseball. The guid-
ing principle of camp routine was to make discipline
mild enough to avoid being much of a burden and yet
strict enough to accustom young Americans unused to
military life to regulations as rigid as they might find
in any section at the front. A rising bell rang at 6 a.m.
and another at 6.30 turned every one out, officers in-
cluded, for roll call. Frequent inspections accustomed the
men to coming to attention when an officer entered the
room. Twice a day, under the French Marechal des Logis,
they learned the meaning of ''Garde d vous," "En avant
par quatres," and, most welcome of orders, '' Rompez vos
rangs."

While the rest of the camp was drilling, the fatigue
squad cleaned quarters, sawed wood, and prepared
vegetables. The remainder of the day was spent in the
camp's main business — driving instruction. This course
improved steadily from its unsatisfactory beginning
until, by the end of July, it included, beside the usual
road work, a short training in first aid to balky Fords,
tire-changing, driving on roads strewn with obstacles,
and backing through a sinuous passage marked out by
wooden standards. The last exercise developed into a
sort of field sport, and great ingenuity was shown in
making the course more and more difficult, all the
men off duty standing around to watch the contest and
breaking out into derisive cheers whenever a contestant
knocked over a standard, and into genuine applause when
he came through with a clean record.

Orders to Dismantle — The End

With August the work began to fall off. Sections Thirty-
Three and Seventy-Two went out. But two sections a
month was child's play after the work of the early sum-
mer. September had a still poorer showing. A few men

509

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

came to the camp, but more left it. The United States
Army was beginning to arrive in France and the Field
Service days were numbered. The regular army officials
who looked over the Field Service camp thought it was
too near to the front, and did not care to adopt it. In com-
parison with the days when we had one hundred and sixty
men, the courtyard looked bare with only twenty-five. It
seemed quite deserted with ten; and even these did not
stay. For a little while two lone privates "held the fort"
and gave the instructors something to do. Another week
and they also were gone. Then one of the instructors
transferred to the Engineers. Things were becoming des-
perate. The three lone survivors, all that was left of
the camp's staff, smoked their pipes in the sunny court,
found excuses to exercise the eight cars, fished without
success in the canal, and wondered if they had been en-
tirely forgotten. Then, one day, orders came to dismantle
the camp. Extra drivers arrived from Paris who loaded
everything, and the convoy rolled away leaving the old
miller smoking in the yard as solitary as the organizing
party had found him four months before; and thus ends
the uneventful history of S.S.U. Twenty, D.A.F.S., a
Section without citations, with no record in carrying
blesses, and yet not undeserving of a place in this History.

It is hard to put a definite value on the work of the
camp. Looking back with the fondness of memory, many
Field Service men consider the time spent there as a de-
lightful interlude between the turmoil of the trip over
and the hardships of ambulance work. They think of the
camp as an enchanted oasis, overlooking its discomforts,
forgetting their own impatience to escape from it and go
out to the front to do their part in a war which they
feared might end before they had seen their fair share
of it. Looking back in another spirit, it is easy to criti-
cise the camp's many shortcomings. Even at its best,
men were not as fully trained there as they might have
been, and the best was seldom realized. The war was

510

im0m.-ni.

■ll'Ei:AMfRlC''N

THE FIELD SERVICE TRAINING CAMP AT MAY-EN-MULTIEN, WITH
LIEUTENANT DE KERSAUSON AND MR. FISHER, THE AMERICAN " CHEF "

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

always going on, new sections were being asked for, and
men were frequently sent out with little or no training.
All this is perfectly true. Nevertheless, in the sixteen
weeks of its existence, seven hundred and thirteen men
were cared for at the camp, and from it thirteen new sec-
tions went forth to carry on the traditions of the Amer-
ican Field Service with the French Army.

And now that the Field Service itself has ceased to exist
except as a tradition, it is easy to see that the faults of
the training were also largely those of the parent organi-
zation. The Field Service always worked under pressure
and outgrew every system tried before it could be per-
fected. Undoubtedly the sections could have been better
prepared if there had been fewer of them and if they had
been sent out at greater intervals. But if our policy had
drawbacks, it also had one great merit. Sections did go
out, half-trained drivers did somehow learn to handle
their cars, and did carry thousands and thousands of
French wounded from the pastes to the hospitals. It did
get results. The record of the Service is beyond criticism;
and the last word of an old ambulance driver, who in his
time did his full share of grumbling and complaining, is
a heartfelt expression of thanks that he had the chance
to work in the American Field Service, of pride in its
achievements, and of gratitude to those who made the
organization possible.

John R. Fisher

The Camp Itself

In June, 1917, I left for the old grist mill with one hundred
and seventy-five ambulance men, and was present at the
formal opening of this romantic and noted camp where
it was my task to try and improve the sanitation of the
place and to look after the health of the American boys,
which, I may add, was very good. During the six weeks
I was camp physician the only sickness was a case of
genuine measles and one of three-day measles ; but there
was no spread of the disease. The boys were housed in a

511

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

grist mill, said to be three hundred and fifty years old,
which was run by water-power. The steel turbine wheel,
the largest I ever saw, pumped spring water to May,
two miles away, and also ran a dynamo which produced
electric power for some of the near-by towns. In Septem-
ber, 1914, the Germans occupied this mill for a week, but
they left suddenly and, contrary to their usual custom,
did very little damage.

The old grist mill was four stories high, and made room
for about two hundred and twenty-five ambulance men. A
portable wooden barracks answered for mess-room and a
smaller one furnished wash-room space. The offices were
in an annex to the mill, and the infirmary and sleeping-
quarters for the officers were over the office rooms. For
recreation, nearly every afternoon at five, the boys all went
swimming in the canal which passed not far from the mill,
or they had football and baseball, pitched quoits, played
cards, and took walks to the many and delightful old towns
in the neighborhood. But there was one horrible drawback
to the camp surroundings — the presence of industrious
and large mosquitoes which, during the early evenings
and dull quiet afternoons, were a hell for some of the
men ; for one full-grown French mosquito can make life
miserable for a whole regiment. Aside from this defect,
the Old Grist Mill Camp was a very romantic and beau-
tiful place, which every American volunteer, who had the
good fortune to inhabit it, will remember with pleasure.

H. Burt Herrick, M.D.^

1 Of Cleveland, Ohio; Western Reserve University; served as physician
at May-en-Multien Camp from May to the middle of July, 1917.

Ill

Training-Camp near May-en-Multien

July 13, 1917
We arrived by train at Crouy-sur-Ourcq on July 8 about
10 a.m. We were met at the train by Mr. Fisher, of the
Field Service, who is in charge of the camp. The fifty- two
of us lined up as best we could, considering we carried our
bedding rolls, and marched out to camp in some fashion
or other. A more wonderful country or location you could
not imagine. We went up over a hill, and then down across
a green, shady canal with barges tied by the banks, and
then on up another gentle hill, past an old stone cottage
with some fat white ducks waddling about it and squawk-
ing indignantly for no reason at all.

The camp is located in an old mill, I don't know how
old. It is a building in the form of an L, four stories high,
with a stream at one side which runs over a mill wheel.
There is a stone wall around the other two sides of the
L, and a farmhouse and farmyard in back. There is quite
a lot of old-fashioned machinery in the mill, and some-
times when the mill wheel is turned on, the wheels and
pulleys go creaking round, very slowly, while we are
sitting there talking or reading. We sleep in cots on the
fourth and top floor. Down below us is the courtyard,
where some cars are parked, with a dove-cote, a wash-
house and kitchen, a wooden military barrack used for
a dining-room, a couple of trees, and some climbing-rose
bushes. The courtyard has an old iron gate with an iron
lion's-head knocker on it. A more romantic place you
could not imagine. That wonderful and beautiful story
of Zola's, "The Attack on the Mill," might easily have
been situated here.

Crouy is an interesting, although not a lively little
town. There is the tower of an old castle there, which is

513

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

very picturesque. Everywhere crowds of small boys fol-
low us, the smaller ones in funny black skirts, the ones
about twelve or so more like village boys in America.
Most of them follow us as mxuch from curiosity as from
anything else, although an occasional one, more bold,
hopes that we can be persuaded to give him a sou. There
are a couple of awfully bright kids of about twelve, very
neatly dressed, who meet us nearly every evening we
visit the town, and go around with us. The sister of one
of them teaches English, among other things, in a school
somewhere around here. He knows quite a bit himself
and was anxious to talk with us and learn more. It is
easier — at present at least — to understand the French
of the youngsters than that of older folk — they speak
more distinctly and less rapidly. Whatever else may be
said of France, her children are beautiful, polite, and
altogether delightful.

At the training-camp those who need it are supposed to
get instruction in driving Fords and French gear-shift
cars. We get up at six in the morning to the violent jan-
gling of an old bell down in the court. Then comes roll call,
and the detailing of a third of the men each day to be on
details and squads in the kitchen, dining-room, or around
the camp generally. After breakfast (more often we avoid
the military one and get delicious chocolate and an ome-
lette from the woman in the farmhouse back of the mill)
we go out to drill, under the instruction of an old French
sergeant. French drill differs from American in that the
movements as we execute them are often executed with
an entire reversal of the same movements by the French
— perhaps with little running steps to jump into place
instead of our mathematically measured movements.
All the commands are in French, and you may believe
it 's often pretty hard to keep them in mind and be able
to think which one is which when it 's given. How would
these sound to^an American soldier? — ''En ligne — Face
d gauche ./ " " ^ gauche — gauche !" ''A droite — droite I ' '
"Demi-tour d droite!" "Repos!" ''Fixe!" "A droite par

514

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

quatresl" '' Rompez vos rangs!'' I confess that the last one
sounds the best to me, for it's French for "dismissed."
However, the drill is not too exacting, and the French
Sergeant, for all his attempt to be sternly military, is a
jolly fellow, and intersperses the work with ''beaucoup
repos.'^

The other day he had been jollying some of the fellows
about getting tired. They decided they would lead him a
merry chase, so suggested that we go on a hike. He agreed,
and the whole bunch set out up the hill in ranks at a
furious pace — taking long strides. We kept it up for
about three miles, up through May-en-Multien and
down toward the Crouy road and canal. The sergeant
stuck right at the head of the affair, but, being forty-five
or so and not used to such strenuous exercise, he was
mopping his brow very frequently until we got in. He was
a good sport and never said a word to stop the pace they
were setting. The next day he lay on the grass beside the
Grande Route and watched us drill for a short time, after
which it was nearly all '^repos,'' and we lay around in the
grass beside the road most of the time during the morn-
ing and afternoon drill periods.

There is also a black-eyed young Frenchman at camp
who speaks good English — Charley. He was in the
trenches for a long time, and every one questions him
about his experience and about the war in general. A
couple of groups of ambulance men having already passed
through this camp, he is used to it, and has really become
a human compendium — how exact I don't know — on
France and the war in general. However he seems to
enjoy it.

Robert A. Donaldson

The Field Service Parc at Billancourt

When the parc at Billancourt closed another landmark
of the old Field Service passed into tradition. It rightly
claimed to have been the oldest landmark, for long before
"21" had been thought of, the cars for Section Eight
were delivered, and soon thereafter Section Nine, one
early morning, rolled out from its gates to Alsace via
Versailles. From then on, its business was to meet the
demands of rue Raynouard, and car after car was deliv-
ered to be sent to the front or formed into new sections.
At the same time spare parts were received, sorted, and
sent out to meet the incessant orders from the front.

For those — and there are many of us — who came
into close contact with the Parc, there are remembrances
which go deeper than the nine hundred and eighty cars
put together there or than the many thousands of dol-
lars' worth of spare parts issued. What original member
of Section Eight will ever forget those days at the newly
established Parc where he worked as a carpenter, me-
chanic, and painter ! — A good training for the work that
was ahead. How many of those who volunteered to help
in the equipping of cars there will forget how the French
Army insists that tires must be numbered and recorded
accurately ! Some of them were section leaders later, and
perhaps the training helped them. What section leader
and mechanic has not felt the Parc was an intimate part
of his daily work, looking on it either as a friend or as
an enemy, depending on the way his cars were running
that day! The Parc stood for him as something to be
telegraphed to or telegraphed at, always something upon
which he knew the success of his section depended.

To a few of us — those to whom all of its details were
in the day's work — there are many incidents which made
that part of the work alive with remembrances. There

516

TRAINING AND SUPPLY CENTRES

was the first summer when things were easy, when chassis
were driven from the ports on wonderful summer days,
and spare parts for the few sections were easy to obtain ;
then, quickly, the change when transportation was tied
up, and parts, which foresight had ordered from America,
were lost among the millions of cases in Bordeaux and
picked out months later among those cases and brought
up. Then came the period when chassis for which no gas-
oline could be spared had to be brought by rail In space
which could not be got, but which was got. Then came
the triumph of being able to supply Section Three on
forty-eight hours' notice with the huge new equipment
which its adventure to the Orient required. Then again
the routine of the winter, broken by the unexpected early
frost which froze the radiators of all the reserve cars, show-
ing that the Pare was human after all. And finally the
days of the next spring: days of terrific pressure when
section after section had to leave, and at the same time
parts and cars had to be sent to the old ones. Pressure
which reached its height during the month of May when
live new sections of cars were delivered at rue Raynouard !
The Fare's two years form a full page In the history of
the Service, a fuller page than most members of the Serv-
ice could realize because Its work, like its founding, and
like Its termination, was done without fuss, but with al-
ways the day's work accomplished. Perhaps in reading
this the men of the old Service will look back again on
their days at the front and recall that good days and bad
days were judged by how their cars were running, and
perhaps they will find that the good days were more fre-
quent than the bad days, and that the latter were often
due to their own negligence. If they do they will realize
what part of their success they owed to the Pare, and
what was accomplished by Robert Moss and those who
helped him In those two years of work which had no
excitement or adventure, but which had their reward in
work well done.

Stephen Galatti

■iSl 4fl£RI£AN ^y.
4 SEKUlCE AUX

,jZ3iJii/wi'i>^iw* " ""

Tit'o Loyal Friends of the Field

Service

COMTESSE DE LA ViLLESTREUX

We all knew vaguely, even before we reached Paris, that
21 rue Raynouard in which the Field Service Headquar-
ters was established had been given by some one — we
did not exactly remember whom. We had read of the
wonderful old house and garden with its memories of
Franklin and the old royalist days, but we vaguely
pictured it as some conventional city home, steeped in
an oppressing formality, and with perhaps here and
there a bronze plaque.

Those first few days in Paris were too full of new im-
pressions, and we were so painfully eager to become a
part of this life that I am afraid we took our surround-
ings too much as a matter of course. But later, when we
had time to adjust ourselves a bit, what a delight it was
to wander about the old house and to feel that in some
miraculous way it belonged to us and we to it; and how
quickly the garden, sloping down to the Seine, came to
mean a place where we could take our little triumphs and

519

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

disappointments and figure them all out under some old
tree, quite forgetful of the city around us. And then it
was we came to realize what such a place meant and
would always mean to all of us, and the value of what
had been given us through some one's generosity.

Then came the day when we first saw the Comtesse de
la Villestreux in her nurse's veil, talking with Miss Lough
in the hall, and we loved her from that moment. And
the never-to-be-forgotten Fourteenth of July when we
met her at the Grande Revue at Vincennes, and cheered,
standing by her side, the faded blue coats and tattered
flags. She consented to ride back with us that morning
to rue Raynouard on the market camionnette; and what
an honor it was to give up one's seat and bump along
through holiday Paris sitting in the back on a sack of
potatoes beside Touraine, the cook, who was busy peeling
onions all the way.

She seemed so exactly what we thought a Countess
ought to be, with an added simplicity and charm which
somehow we had n't counted on, and it seemed so very
fitting that it should be she and her family who had
given us 21 rue Raynouard, and not only that, but
their whole-hearted interest in the boys who lived there.
If any one was sick the Countess made it her special
charge to visit him daily and see that everything was
done for his comfort, and whether he was in a pest-house
with smallpox or in a hospital with a bad cold it made
no difference whatsoever. One young American died in
her arms, who would otherwise have had no one by his
side to make the last moments a little easier. Nor did this
in any way prevent her toiling daily in an important
hospital reserved for the care of tubercular French sol-
diers. Service and self-sacrifice were so much a part of her
daily life that many months after the Armistice, when
Paris was torn by a subway strike, she, despite her
snow-white hair and the weariness of four and a half
years of war, was one of the first to take her place punch-
ing tickets for the welfare of her beloved city.

520

COMTESSE BE LA VILLESTREUX

TWO LOYAL FRIENDS

In looking back on the time we have spent in France,
21 rue Raynouard stands out even more than ever as the
centre of our memories of those bygone days. There we
first came into touch with France, and with the mighty
struggle in which she was engaged; there we came back
after weeks at the front, to meet old friends, make new
ones, and to talk over the changing fortunes of war; and
there above all we always found a home, friendly coun-
sellors, and the courage to go on when things were
blackest. And in the background of all our memories of
21 rue Raynouard stands the Countess and her family
whose generosity made such a place possible. Our grati-
tude is not of the sort that goes easily into words, but may
they realize that what they have given us is the precious
heritage of a lifetime!

A. J. P.

Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt

Any one who was in any way familiar with the trying
problems which faced the American Field Service from
its early days until the end of its career, cannot but
realize what the Service owes to Mrs. Vanderbilt for
her keen and unfailing interest in its work and the wel-
fare of its members. Some of us remember her as far
back as the first months of the war when, without her
faith and her counsel, the Field Service as we have known
it might never have come into being. And some months
later it was she who made our independence possible,
and opened the way for our direct assistance to France,
unchecked by red-tape and limited only by the number
of men and cars that could be procured from America.
We can never forget her aid at this time, nor did her
interest cease once our independence and future de-
velopment were assured. When new headquarters had
been found and were being installed in 21 rue Raynou-
ard, she found many odd moments every day, despite
the fact that she was busier than ever with her hospital

521

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

work, to help us in a practical, womanly way by hang-
ing pictures, covering tables, and curtaining windows,
to make our new quarters into a home.

Many of us remember, too, how she came to the front
to see us back in 19 1 6, when a trip to the lines was un-
dertaken by few women. Mr. Andrew had telegraphed,
"Will arrive with Vanderbilt," and we, thinking of
course it meant her husband, were quite overcome by
surprise when she appeared in our midst. She visited our
most advanced pastes at a time when our admiration for
her courage was mingled with a sincere anxiety for her
safety, and she spent the night with us at Pont-a-Mous-
son during a heavy bombardment. It was then that we
found out just how enthusiastic she was about our work,
and how eager to learn anything new about the prob-
lems and needs of our everyday existence. That indeed
was the keynote of her interest in the Field Service. For
four years she was indifferent to nothing which affected
our work and the spirit in which we did that work, whether
it was a mere detail or a far-reaching policy. And we who
have known — as only young Americans in France in
those days could know — what it meant to have such
a friend, will always recall with deep gratitude what
her unfailing faith and devotion did for us, and for the
Service of which we were a part.

MRS. WILLIAM K. VANDERIULT

From a snapshot taken at the front

French Officers Associated with
the Service

Among the happy recollections of Field Service days
none has left a deeper impression than the courtesy and
kindness shown to us by French officers. In the sections
at the front, although we were privates and directly un-
der their orders, our peculiar situation as volunteers per-
mitted them to invite us to their messes, and even when
on duty to treat us with friendly familiarity. Medecin
Divisionnaires and Medecin Chefs took personal interest
in our quarters, our health, our games and fetes, and
other activities, and the regimental officers in general
knew by name most of the men in the section serving
them. This relationship helped, not only in making our
lives pleasant and rich in companionship, but in ob-
taining without delay or friction the things for which we
were dependent on the French, thus adding to the effi-
ciency of a section in its work with its division.

This was an important factor, but much more impor-
tant was the specific interest shown by certain officers at
the French Army Headquarters, who swiftly recognized
the possibilities of the Service, and opened the way to
its free development. Most of these officers necessarily
belonged to the Automobile Service of the French Army
under whose direct command we were, and although in
all our contact with those who were directing us we
found interest and help, circumstances brought a close
affiliation with particular ones. In recounting these

523

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

affiliations I can best show how much the direct Influence
and friendship of these men were interwoven with the
history of the Service.

The first name which naturally presents Itself is that of
Commandant de Montravel, who later in letters to Mr.
Andrew liked to designate himself as the '' pere des sec-
tions americaines.'" He well merited this name, for it was
his personal decision which gave our sections a place at
the front. We must go back for a moment to the little
squads of American ambulances serving with the British
and the French in the north, early in 1915, to see the im-
portance of his action. These squads were only adjuncts
to hospitals in a region where, owing to the concentra-
tion of the British as well as the French, and the natural
consequence of the advance and retreat and confusion of
the early days, there were sufficient regularly organized
sections to do the work. In fact some of these American
units were accomplishing nothing, and those in charge of
them despaired of their ever accomplishing anything. Mr.
Andrew, cognizant of this state of affairs, conceived the
plan of attaching them directly to the French Army di-
visions, and with this idea in view, went to the Eastern
Armies in March, 1915, and found at Vittel Comman-
dant de Montravel, Inspecteur des Automobiles de la Region
de VEst. Commandant de Montravel welcomed Mr. An-
drew's plan, not only with courtesy, but with warm-
hearted enthusiasm, said that ambulance sections were
greatly needed In the armies subject to his supervision,
and he pledged his influence and his friendship to the
project of trying out an American section with an army
division. It was on this understanding that the section
ultimately known as Section Three was tentatively or-
ganized and sent to Vittel as a trial section in April, 1915.
As chance would have it, its arrival, after a three days'
convoy, coincided with the arrival of a heavy train of
wounded. The Section was instantly put to work, and
the eagerness and promptness shown in carrying out his
orders determined Commandant de Montravel to give it

524

FRENCH OFFICERS WITH THE SERVICE

a place at the front without further observation. He
immediately asked that the section be built up to the
standard size of a regular French army section, and he
sent it down into the very appealing, and at that time,
fairly active sector of Alsace Reconquise. Thereupon he
asked for another section, and thus Section Two in the
same month gained its place on the eastern front at Pont-
a-Mousson. Upon his recommendation the French Gen-
eral Headquarters formulated an agreement for the utili-
zation and control of these and future sections (which is
printed elsewhere in this History), and requested that
the squad in Flanders be increased to the standard sec-
tional proportions, assigning it also to work in the ad-
vanced zone.

Commandant de Montravel passed from one position
to another in the French Army, but he never lost his pa-
ternal interest in the young Americans and the Service
Vv^hich he had befriended in the early days of the Great
War. Writing to Mr. Andrew after the Armistice, he
said:

Je ne puis oublier, moi, que d^s le debut de 1915 une phalange
de vos meilleurs jeunes hommes est venue nous apporter une
aide aussi genereuse que spontanea. A moi qui a 6te un des
premiers a apprecier leur sublime enthusiasme, il appartient de
vous dire aujourd'hui combien j'ai ete fier d'accueillir ces vail-
lants precurseurs de toute votre Grande Patrie, et de vous ex-
primer toute la reconnaissance que nous leur avons vou6e.

Comme Chef de Service Automobile dans plusieurs armies,
je les ai vus a I'oeuvre (et depuis bientot quatre ans!) : toujours
prets, toujours devoues et infatigables ; des heros sublimes et
modestes chaque fois que I'occasion s'en est presentee. Per-
mettez moi de leur rendre ici I'hommage qu'ils ont si vailla-
ment merite. Tous ceux qu'ils ont secourus, tous ceux qui les
ont connus, ne pourront jamais les oublier.

In eastern France the Service had another faithful
friend in Commandant Arboux, D.S.A. of the Seventh
Army from the beginning to the end of the War. Section
Three first came under his orders early in 191 5 and
continued there until the following January. Section

525

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Nine came into his region in the summer of 1916 and re-
mained there until December, and when it was removed,
he urgently requested that another Field Service forma-
tion be sent to take its place, a request which the French
G.H.Q. endorsed, and which resulted in the sending,
in December, 191 6, of the so-called Vosges Detach-
ment. Most of the men who came in contact with him
will remember him as a very strict disciplinarian, for he
personally travelled throughout his sector to see that his
orders were being properly and promptly executed. Sec-
tion Sixty-Four in their very earliest days learned what
promptness meant, when Commandant Arboux, having
sent an order for a very early morning start, arrived at
the Section a few moments before the time set for their
departure from his army, and watch in hand and with
rather caustic comment, inspected their departure. His
interest in the men may not have always been apparent
to them, but Mr. Andrew and I never received a warmer
welcome anywhere than when we stopped to see him at
Remiremont on our inspection trips. When the business
of the moment was over, he would instantly launch on
the exploits of his old Field Service sections, recounting
anecdotes about individual men, whose names he never
forgot, and enquiring as to what had become of them. He
always liked to point to a chart hanging on the wall be-
hind his desk on which he had had painted the names of
the Field Service men who had been cited in his army, and
he never failed to make it evident that he took an especial
personal interest in his American sections.

The severe fighting all through the years of 191 6 and
191 7 in the Verdun region naturally brought the largest
concentration of our sections there. Commandant Pru-
vost was stationed at Bar-le-Duc or Souilly as D.S.A. of
the Second Army throughout that time, and it was due
to his appreciation of and interest in the Service that so
many sections received important assignments in that
army. It was true that a section would naturally follow its
division into line, but the D.S.A. not only had the power,

526

FRENCH OFFICERS WITH THE SERVICE

but used it constantly, of changing the sanitary sections
whenever he thought best, either from one division to
another or to the reserve. Also new sections were sent
directly to an army reserve, and must wait there until
the D.S.A. saw fit to attach them to a division. It was
Commandant Pruvost's custom to welcome our new sec-
tions and not allow them to wait long for an assignment.
The result of his friendly attitude was that the G.Q.G.
nearly always sent newly formed Field Service sections
to his army. Sections Twelve, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen,
Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty-Six,. Twenty-
Nine, Thirty, Thirty-One, and Thirty-Three reported di-
rectly to him on formation: a very high percentage, when
we leave out the first four pioneer sections. Section Ten
which departed to the Orient, and the sections on French
cars, which of course simply replaced the French drivers
wherever those sections happened to be at the moment.
I remember seeing Commandant Pruvost for the last
time in 191 8 when he was stationed at the French G.Q.G.
in Provins, and he took pride in telling me that new sec-
tions of our Service had always been sent to him for
training and that none of them had ever failed in their
work.

The Field Service contact with the French Army was
a direct one with the Director of the Automobile Service
at French General Headquarters, or his representatives.
This contact need only have been a matter of military
routine for, from the point of view of the G.Q.G., an
American sanitary section was used and administered as
if it were a French section, the differences of supply,
volunteer enlistment, etc., being merely detail matters,
which, however complicated for us, were only of concern
to a subordinate department of the French G.Q.G. That
Mr. Andrew obtained not only the friendship, but the
interest and confidence of the heads of this Service, made
many seemingly impossible obstacles easily surmount-
able.

527

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

* Commandant, later Colonel, Girard was the U.S.A. —
the Director of the Automobile Service — of all the
French armies until 1916, when he was promoted to the
Ministry and Commandant Doumenc succeeded him. Mr.
Andrew's first meeting with Commandant Girard is of in-
terest, as on his being able to establish a relationship neces-
sarily depended the success of the Service. On the return
from his visit to Commandant de Montravel, with the
latter's assurance of willingness to give Section Three a
trial in Alsace, Mr. Andrew's problem was to get the or-
der from the G.Q.G. He was unable to get a pass to Chan-
tilly, the orders at that time being very strictly enforced
in regard to its sanctity from outsiders, but the necessity
of obtaining this interview demanded heroic measures. A
pass was obtained for a near-by town and it was easy
to bluff the sentry. A fortunate occurrence now made
everything easy, for Mr. Andrew met in Chantilly on his
arrival Captain Puaux, an old school friend, then serving
on General Joffre's staff. An introduction to Comman-
dant Girard suddenly became a simple matter. Section
Three was sent to Alsace, and contact with French Head-
quarters established.

Soon thereafter Lieutenant Duboin was appointed by
Commandant Girard as liaison oflficer between our Serv-
ice and his headquarters, and his constant visits afforded
opportunity to discuss all service questions with com-
plete understanding. Lieutenant Duboin did not confine
his interest to headquarters, but sometimes accompanied
Mr. Andrew to the front, thus becoming familiar with the
actual problems which foreign sections faced within their
divisions.

With the growth of allied and neutral participation in
the French Automobile Service at the front and in the
rear, a special bureau known as the O.S.E. {Office des
Sections Etrangeres) was opened in Paris to deal with the
various foreign organizations. Among these organiza-
tions were the Norton-Harjes unit, several English am-
bulance units serving with the French Army, one or two

528

FRENCH OFFICERS WITH THE SERVICE

Russian sections at the front, and the Paris evacuation
service of the Neuilly Hospital as well as various Amer-
ican automobiles attached to other relief and hospital
centres in the rear. Captain Aujay was placed in charge of
this bureau, and naturally his contact with our Service
was constant. Throughout the three years we found in
him a steadfast friend. His task was no easy one, for
one of his responsibilities was to see that the orders of
the armies were followed to the letter in regard to the
matriculation of cars and volunteers sent into the army
zone, and the registration of all movements to and from
that zone. Strict adherence to all details of army regula-
tions is always harassing to the evenest of dispositions. I
feel sure that Captain Aujay must have often in private
given vent to his exasperation at the difficulties in trying
to make Americans realize that "j^cA^j" and "matricu-
lation books" could be made as easily to conform to
regulations as to their ideas of what was proper. But if he
did so, he never showed it, and when emergency required,
he personally attended to the minutest detail in order to
expedite matters. His friendship was not only to the Serv-
ice, but to the men themselves. He enjoyed coming to
the farewell dinners given to departing sections at rue
Raynouard. He always found there friends among the
older volunteers and made new ones with the outgoing
sections. No section ever left for the front without his
hearty word of God-speed in which was reflected all the
warmth and cheerfulness of his big heart.

Writing to Mr. Andrew at the end of the War, Captain
Aujay recalled his appreciative memories of the Field
Service in the following terms:

Soyez assur6 que je garde de votre si longue collaboration le
plus precieux souvenir. Quelle chose vivante, variee, souple, et
tou jours allante que V American Field Service! Que de bons
offices n'a-t-il pas rendus k notre cher Pays! Et si complete fut
votre organization que lorsque TArm^e officielle vint — non
pas vous relever — mais vous doubler, elle n'eut qu'a calquer
les mesures prises par les volontaires pour etre a I'hauteur de

529

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

sa tache ! C'est une de mes grandes fiert^s d'avoir pu vois aider
dans votre tache, et je tiens a vous le repeter une fois ne plus.

Captain An jay had many subordinates, and so many
of them were closely associated with us that we hardly
think of them in any way other than as part of the Field
Service: Lieutenant Thillard, his faithful adjomt, the
genial Due de Clermont-Tonnerre, who generally ac-
companied Mr. Andrew upon his tours of inspection,
M. Perrin, Marechal des Logis Bouchet, and many others,
all of whom seemed to make it their particular purpose to
help in every possible way.

It was, of course, necessary that the sections, being
each an independent unit, be commanded by a French
officer. The French G.Q.G. took pains to choose these lieu-
tenants, not only from among those who spoke English,
but with a regard to their ability to cope with the prob-
lem of commanding neutral volunteers whose discipline
must conform to that of the French soldiers, and yet
which could not be enforced by the same methods. That
these officers won the complete loyalty of the men is
enough evidence of their qualifications, but long associa-
tion with many of them brought more than loyalty, for
out of their leadership grew the respect and affection for
the French officer which makes us ever happy to recall
those days. The influence of many of them spread be-
yond their own sections, and the names of Lieutenants de
Kersauson, both Rodocanachls, de Rode, de Turckheim,
Reymond, Bollaert, Fabre, Baudouy, d'Halloy, Marshall,
Rey, Pruvost, Goujon, Ravisse, and Gibilly, are known
to most of the men of the Service.

Lieutenant de Kersauson commanded Section One in
its earliest days. He had lived in the United States for
some years, answering his country's call at the outbreak
of war. It became his especial pride to convince his fellow
officers that his American section was not only the best
sanitary section in the armies, but that its discipline
could conform to that of the regular army. His own en-

530

a
o

FRENCH OFFICERS WITH THE SERVICE

thusiasm was transmitted throughout his section in such
a way that, although the personnel was constantly chang-
ing, the traditions of the Section remained throughout its
service. It was a tradition which later gained for it the
fourragere. Lieutenant de Kersauson remained with Sec-
tion One for two years, and then, much against his will,
was withdrawn to take charge of the instruction of Field
Service men at the French officers' school at Meaux. In
conjunction with this duty he was appointed to oversee
the training of the new men at the camp at May-en-Mul-
tien. It was a fitting tribute to his previous success that
he was called for this larger work in connection with the
Field Service relationship with the French Army.

Lieutenant Reymond succeeded Lieutenant de Ker-
sauson as French officer of Section One, and in him the
men found a new friend and leader, in whom they placed
their utmost confidence and loyalty.

One never hears Section Two referred to without some
mention of Lieutenant Rodocanachi. Many firm friend-
ships have resulted from the associations of men in sec-
tions, but none firmer than that of those who have served
in Section Two with their French Lieutenant. Lieutenant
Rodocanachi came to the Section when it was unattached
to a division, and when most of its men were hardly op-
timistic in their vision of a winter in the Meuse playing
the part of an evacuation section. Even at the front a
Meusian winter wears down the stoutest heart, but just
behind the front there is nothing to bring relief from the
cold, foggy drizzle which penetrates deeper than the two
feet of mud. Lieutenant Rodocanachi never spared him-
self in those early days to keep the morale of his men
high, and he tried every method and trick his ingenuity
could devise to obtain for them a division. His effort
was well rewarded, for Section Two finally took up its
rightful place again at the front. Throughout the next
two years his active leadership obtained for the Section
the most difficult work, and his own personality helped
forge the strong unity of Section Two.

531

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

Section Three's personality was already formed by the
leadership of its American commander before Lieutenant
de Rode came to it. In him, however, the members of the
Section found an added cooperation of leadership and
friendship which helped to weld the unity of purpose of
the Section, not only in the critical moments on the
French front, but on the difficult expedition to the Bal-
kans, Recollections of the very dangerous poste at Bras
in 1 91 6 would bring Lieutenant de Rode's name to the
lips of every member of Section Three, for he remained
there night after night until dawn looking after the men
and the work. His action in choosing to remain with the
Section on its transfer to the Orient, although he was
offered the chance to stay in France, enhanced the esteem
and respect in which he was already held.

As was fitting, the next oldest section could vie with its
older brethren in its French personnel, and in Lieutenant
de Turckheim its members found a quiet, firm leader-
ship and a highly cultured and valued friend. It seemed
quite in keeping with its leader that the Section always
went about its business in unfailing regularity with little
or no fuss, but always accomplishing its work.

One could go on indefinitely pointing out the influence
which the French officers exerted upon the sections, how
closely identified with, how much a part of the sections
they became, how much their example and advice
helped all of us in those days and, above all, what good
companions and friends they were. Two of those friends
we lost during the War. We looked upon Lieutenant Bol-
laert and Lieutenant Baudouy as comrades. The former
was killed outright by a shell while in command of old
Section Eight, and the latter, commander of Section
Fourteen, died in service. Section Thirteen also suffered
a serious loss in leadership when Lieutenant Rodocanachi
was grievously wounded while commanding them during
the Champagne offensive of April, 1917.

I have touched earlier in this article on our direct rela-

532

FRENCH OFFICERS WITH THE SERVICE

tionship with the French G.H.Q. estabhshed by Mr. An-
drew with Colonel Girard. When Commandant Doumenc
succeeded the latter, this relationship drew closer and
closer. Commandant Doumenc and one of his aides, Cap-
tain Loriot, appeared to lay stress on the continual de-
velopment of the Field Service. They wanted always
more and more sections of ambulances for the French
front; they wanted first one, then two, sections for the
French army in the Balkans ; they wanted as many trans-
port sections as we could enlist. It was evident that Com-
mandant Doumenc appreciated early the possibility of
reenforcing his service by American volunteers. In its
realization he knew that the task assigned to them must
be important and useful, not occasional and auxil-
iary, and in his willingness to carry out this principle
he encouraged in every way the Field Service develop-
ment. I think every man in the Service feels that he was
permitted to accomplish the work he had come over to
do, as he would have wished, that is, with all the oppor-
tunities as well as with all the hardships of the French
soldier of his service. Commandant Doumenc sent Amer-
ican sections to the best French divisions, and when war
was declared asked for more of them for the purpose of
incorporating them in his crack T.M. group, the Reserve
Mallet. If it were only for his action in placing his confi-
dence in the Service from the start, and thus giving it full
opportunity, we should owe him an immeasurable debt.
But he went far beyond this in his personal interest. He
never failed to send a message of sympathy for the loss of
an American volunteer. He frequently took several hours
of his precious time to personally decorate a wounded
American volunteer in a hospital, and he acceded to
practically every suggestion made by Mr. Andrew for the
welfare of the men, this often necessitating his own
supervision. When one remembers that Commandant
Doumenc was not only in complete charge of the whole
Automobile Service of all the French armies, but also en-
trusted with the regulation of all the road movements

533

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

of these armies, one can appreciate what such constant
personal interest in our Service on his part meant, and
how gratifying, as well as helpful, that interest was. That
the more far-reaching aspects of the Service did not es-
cape Commandant Doumenc's attention is shown in a
letter addressed by him to Mr. Andrew shortly after
the United States entered the war.

Je dois reconnaitre [he said] que cette oeuvre importante, que
vous avez su mener a bien, s'est toujours montree a nos yeux,
non seulement comme une aide effective pour nos blesses, mais
encore comme un trait d'union entre la Nation Frangaise et la
Nation Americaine, avant qu'elles fussent alliees dans la meme
juste cause.

And he added:

Je voudrais que vous soyez mon interprete aupres de tous
les membres de V American Field Service, pour leur temoigner, de
ma part, combien j'ai €t€ heureux deles avoir pour collabora
teurs. Je puis dire que je les ai toujours trouves les premiers
dans le chemin de devouement et de I'honneur.

No enumeration, however brief, of the friends of the
Field Service in the French Army would be adequate
or just which did not include the ofificers connected with
the transport branch — the T.M. {Transport Materiel) —
especially Lieutenants Gilette and Vincent, who so pa-
tiently and zealously looked after the training of the men
in the camps at Dommiers and Chavigny, and Captain
Genin, who commanded the first group of sections at
Jouaignes. Who, of that groupe will ever forget the cor-
dial interest of Captain Genin in his "boise" or the great
out-door banquets that he arranged for them on impro-
vised tables in the dusty yard at Jouaignes, when the long
summer evenings were made gay with songs and stories
and warm-hearted speeches, or the great celebration of
the first Fourth of July which he arranged for several
hundred men, with bands and entertainers from neigh-
boring French regiments, and ingeniously contrived
sports and "stunts," and abundant supplies of the wine
of France which he himself provided !

534

S ^

FRENCH OFFICERS WITH THE SERVICE

Above all, must tribute be paid to Captain (later Com-
mandant) Mallet, the officer in command of the Reserve
which included all of the American sections, and by whose
name that Reserve will ever be known. It was not an easy
task to command a thousand American youths, who had
come to France as volunteers, utterly unaccustomed to
military discipline, and who had only time for two or
three weeks' training, before being thrown into a hard
service very different from their preconceptions. Such
command required the exercise of an unusual amount of
tact and friendly comprehension, both of which Captain
Mallet fortunately possessed. With what thoughtfulness
he assembled the men from time to time and expressed
appreciation of their faithful service! Read this passage
from his address on the evening of October 6, 19 17, as
an example :

Volunteers of the American Field Service!

The American Field Service has existed for almost three
years, and had been doing wonderful work on our front for
months when practically no American believed that his own
country might ever be involved in this war. The whole organ-
ization has proved a great benefit to the French Army, and
its promoters would be justified in recalling their work with
pride. Hundreds of motor ambulances have been busy in the
hottest sectors of our front. Thousands and thousands of
wounded have been brought back from the fiercest battles
that the world's history has ever recorded to find proper care
and get back their health.

By entering the Camion Service you awarded France a still
greater help in allowing us to send hundreds of our oldest driv-
ers back to their fields which must be tilled if they are to yield
bread to our people.

Be assured that I and all the Frenchmen who know some-
thing of the work you have done will always think gratefully of
you and of the American Field Service which brought you to
this country!

In a personal letter to Mr. Andrew written more than
a year later, after the Armistice, and after his separation
from the Reserve, Commandant Mallet testified again
to his enduring gratitude to the volunteers of 191 7:

535

THE AMERICAN FIELD SERVICE

I feel every day more deeply [he wrote] now that the victory
is won, that your boys were the first pioneers of their country
in this war, and I shall strive all my life to make France atten-
tive to this fact and grateful for their work.

Assuredly then, we, who worked with them, shall think
always gratefully of the hearty friendship and constant
helpfulness shown us by those French officers who were
so appreciative, and whose hands were always so eager
to further every effort that we made.

Stephen Galatti

END OF VOLUME II

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