Not a prize winning competition, only in so much as good work well done is a reward. Patterning after the example of "Tom Sawyer" who when he had the stunt of white washing the fence on his school holiday, interested his friends in the work so much that they begged for the job, the sub-sub editor on the Bulletin has decided to let out the issues of the Bulletin to such sections as may desire to undertake a number. It would be an excellent means to get full data about the work accomplished, the notes on individuals and general information if a section wished to make it a serious number. On the other hand, it need not be serious and the illustrations and copy are not restricted, only up to the ordinary standard of the regular issues.
Please, decide as soot as possible the approximate date you desire reserved for your section. Copy is required one week and drawings two weeks in advance of the date of the issue.
Captain Pavillon who has been with Reserve Mallet almost since its organization and who since the departure, of Commandant Mallet has been in command of it, in a decision of, a few days ago addressed to French and 'American Officers, non-commissioned officers and soldiers of the Reserve said:
"On taking over the commend of the Reserve I know I can count on the good will and on the sense of duty of everyone to complete our, task successfully.
"During the long period of operations, when fortune was sometimes good and sometimes bad, our reserve with its heart in its, work, conscious of the importance of its task, recognizing the absolute necessity of its effort, always accomplished the most difficult duty without wavering.
"Let everyone be proud of that. Now that our victorious armies are on enemy soil, we must not consider our work as finished. It is not.
"I am counting on you all to finish our task without faltering; let all ranks devote themselves heart and soul to this end. I am confident they will.
"On the other hand I want you to feel assured, not only of my deep interest, but also of my affection.
"The vicissitudes of war, undergone together, the dangers and fatigues suffered in common have served to create between us ties that we will never forget.
"The Reserve is like a big family, where, without distinction of nationality, all are comrades and where there is not only mutual' respect but something deeper.
"Let no one, French or American, during the weeks we still shall be together, hesitate to come to me with any request, no matter what it may be. Rest assured that I shall listen and do all in my power to help.
"I greet you all with a hearty handshake."
Lieut. George Lamade, commanding the Groupe of his name in the Reserve Mallet, who received his promotion to First Lieutenant in October, has just been decorated with the croix de guerre with the following citation :
"Excellent officier, énergique et dévoué, a donné en maintes circonstances l'exemple du sang-froid et du mépris du danger. S'est particulièrement signalé les 23 et 24 octobre 1918 en restant plusieurs heures à un carrefour bombardé, par l'ennemi, pour veiller à la sécurité de son matériel qui lui était confié. A quitté le terrain le dernier après avoir eu un de ses officiers tué à ses côtés."
The incident mentioned of the 23-24 of october occured during a tank convoy in which First Lt. George L. Edwards lost his life. Tanks were being hauled very near the lines for an attack which was to be made by the French near Chateau Forcien, Lt. Lamade searched all day and night to find Lt. Edwards.
TO AN INFIRMIERE
My hurt ? --- It is better now,
God of Battles! In this Night
So prayed we in that darkest hour
And then athwart the rugged peaks
God of Battles! May this Light
APO 714, AEF.
near Langres, France.
January 1, 1919.
Dear Ed: ---
The receipt of your Christmas number of the Bulletin was a joy indeed to this one-time member of "Section Dix" now gone far astray in the Tank Corps. But when that neat little bill-folder arrived, my heart overflowed at the thoughtfulness of those in charge at "21" in remembering still the men who started doing their bit with the A. F. S.
For a long time I have realized a certain obligation to write and tell you something of my new work. In proof of this, witness below a copy of a scrap of paper found in my writing tablet:
« August 7, 1918.
" Dear Editor
"About a week ago I received a letter. It had run the gauntlet of military channels fought its way through the front line of censors, and arrived not much the worse for wear. I wondered who had been kind enough to send me a Bulletin until I saw there was a catch in it. "An Appeal "in large type on the first page stared me in the face. I had almost decided to borrow the money to subscribe then and there. However, the "Appeal" proved to be a demand to hear from some of the old Field Service men who find themselves no longer ambulanciers. Having once belonged to a Section in the Balkans that boasted more Coronas than Croix de Guerre, I make no pretentions to literary ability and beg the indulgence of our future journalists.
"The Tank Corps is made up of men mostly from the Regular Army or the National Guard, with a small sprinkling of old Red Cross, Field Service, and Norton-Harjes men. The official insignia of the service is a Tank Corps button and an adhesive plaster. The button is worn on the overseas cap and the collar of the blouse. The plaster may be worn over either eye-brow or across the bridge of the nose. This denotes that the man is a qualified tanker, having lately been on manoeuvres."
Here the narrative ended, mostly because there was nothing more to say, as we had not been to the front to try out our iron boxes.
On the night of the 6th of September we ran our one hundred and fifty odd tanks on flat cars. The operation lasted until daylight of the following morning, and was accomplished in a most discouraging down-pour. All of the next night was spent unloading by a woods in the Toul sector, and the following day we ran up to our positions just back of the lines, into another dense wood. In getting our tanks ready for battle we worked until we were ready to drop.
By midnight, the beginning of the 12th of September, we were ready. There was nothing to do but sit in the tank and wait while that four-hour barrage thundered and ripped over-head, lighting up the pitchdark woods with blinding flashes.
The day went better than any of us had hoped, with very slight resistance. George Dresser (T.M.U. 526) had a rather exciting experience. After his tank got stuck in a ditch, he, with several other tankers afoot, joined a party of French fantassins. A machine gun nest which was shooting at them from a wood was their objective. Under command of a French Officer they attacked the nest and succeeded in capturing it and taking a band of prisoners. We slept that night near Nousard, most of us without blankets, and with only cold "Willy" and hard-tack to eat. After enduring days and nights like this, including a couple of all night-drives, we again boarded a train of flat cars.
When we unloaded, we found ourselves at Clermont-en-Argonne. The rail-head was receiving a desultory shelling from a long-range gun. The night of the 25th of September we moved up to the "jump-off " --- Vauquois Woods. We were so tired that we lay down and dozed and dreamed half awake, as the barrage crackled over-head and threw light into our faces.
That morning, progress was hard, but it was made. George Dresser, driving for Sergeant Jackson, was killed, while Jackson was seriously wounded and is now blind. They were two of the best liked and most respected men of the Company. They started, with seven other French tanks, for Cheppy, but a shell must have hit the front of the tank. Most of the French crews were killed too. The names of all of the crews are to be inscribed on a monument erected to them by the community of Cheppy, that their heroic attempt may remain immortal.
Being in the reserves, our tank did not get into action until the third day. Our artillery had great difficulty in moving up, due to the mud, poor roads, and hilly, wooded terrain. Hence we were exposed to heavy shelling whenever we moved. On the 29th we "went over" again at the Montrebeau Woods. Our tank got out on a hill over Exermont, while two others went down into the town. We succeeded in carrying the first line of defense and driving the Germans over into the woods on the opposite hill. Some doughboys of the 35th Division took up the new position, but were forced to give it up later. They had been very badly shot up, and out in the cold and rain for four days and four nights with only two days iron rations Our tank was hit by three antitank bullets, one of which pierced the armor and cut a hole in the radiator. This "froze" the engine up, so that we couldn't move. Meantime my gunner had been wounded by splinters from machinegun bullets, so we changed posts, and I was able, by firing as fast as possible, to keep the Germans from re-setting up their machine guns and shooting down the doughboys. A German plane dropped a white rocket over the tank, so that the artillery began hunting for us. My gunner went to look for a first aid station, and I got off to one side in a. shell hole with some doughboys. A shell hit the tail of the tank and set the gasoline on fire. This started the 37mm. shells inside to going off. When the shelling subsided I crawled back to the tank to shoot some more, and found her a total wreck.
Finally our Company pulled back to a rest camp. There were only twenty-four of us left to answer roll-call. Then we went up again to Exermont. On November 1st we were at it again. The barrage was the most terrific we had ever heard before --- rattling... sputtering machine guns, barking 75's, and great whiffling shells from railroad guns larger than the long range cannons which shelled Paris last spring. The Germans replied with everything they had, but it seemed weak in comparison. Later we found many of their guns split lengthwise from over heating. The artillery did splendidly all day, giving us a creeping barrage to follow for fourteen kilometres. The end of the day found us with the Marines opposite Buzancy. Three of our tanks had reached the Corps objective. We were out of the hills. Rows and rows of cannon had been captured! The Boches were really running at last!
On the eleventh of November we left the front, trying to make ourselves believe that the War might be over. From that day until now, we have been anxiously waiting the word to pack up and go home, which it seems is likely to come almost any day in the near future.
Hoping this may encourage some of the other "old men" to loosen up with some of their experiences, I am.
Sgt. J. R. NICHOLS.
(Formerly S.S.U. 10)
A. P. O. 714, Amer. Ex. Forces.
January 6, 1919.
American Ambulance Field Service,
21, rue Raynouard,
I am thankful receiver of several of your "Field Service Bulletins". It has been quite a pleasure to get these bulletins and to see that the old Ambulance Service is being held together by such a bond. Surely no one of the men who served in this service in the early days before the entrance of the United States into this war can forget the ties or what it means today, to feel that you at least tried to be of some service, not only to France --- the name has always implied chivalry to me --- but even to our own people by being in the ambulance service. As I look back I feel personally that though some of us did not do so much there, that the mere fact of our being over here and with the French, was proof positive of our undying friendship and love for France. The little hardships, if there were any, that were gone through in those days are forgotten, and there only remains an ideal which so many men, no one need be ashamed to say a sample of America's best, were trying to follow.
I was a member of S.S.U. 10, which served in the Balkans. Edmond Fryer, now First Sergeant Company A, 328th Btn, Tank Corps, A.E.F., was also a member of Section 10, and is at Bourg, Hte Marne, Par Longeau. We often speak of the old "Ambulance" and go ever the list of men who were with us. Some we have heard from, some we hear are dead or injured, and others have drifted away. We expect to return to the United States in a very short time. Quite a number of ambulance men are to be found in this branch of the service. Very few of us, however, have had the satisfaction of knowing that had the fight lasted for about three months more that we would have been in the thick of it.
Selden W. SENTER,
Sgt. Co. B.,
304th Bn. T.C. USA.
"Dough" that's easy slang to fathom. "Sour-dough", that's easy, too. Most of us have read some of Service, London or Beach. But "Dough-boy"! Who let that word in? Is a doughboy a boy of dough, the stuff they cook to make bread, or the stuff they work for to get bread? Or is a doughboy the boy with the dough? Most American slang has some real foundation of wit or reason. But this undying word doughboy, who knows for sure whence it came?
In "Deeds of Valor" (Beyer and Keydel, The Perrien-Keydel Co., Detroit, Mich.) under the heading: "Bob, I'll help the Doe-boys" is given a short article on Corporal William P. Hogarty, artilleryman, who was awarded the Congressional Medal for valor. Very briefly the story is as follows:
The Fourth U. S. Artillery being short of men, Capt. Gibbon in command obtained permission to fill his battery detaching men from volunteer regiments. One of the men selected from the many who responded to the call was Private William P. Hogarty of the Twenty-third New-York Infantry. On September 17, 1862, memorable as the bloodiest one-day battle of the war, Hogarty, who had been promoted to lance corporal, was in the section ordered to the front when the charging columns of "Stonewall " Jackson's Infantry were upon them. After furious onslaughts which were repulsed, later in the day the battery was removed and while awaiting orders, Corporal Hogarty picked up a loaded, new Springfield rifle from the side of a dead soldier. The gun was capped and ready for firing. Turning to one of his comrades Hogarty said: "Bob, I'll help the Doe-boys ", and he did. The book explains that Doe-boys was a nickname for infantry soldiers.
And now they are "doughboys". Its the same name as "Doe-boy" but more mysterious for the "Doe-boys" were none other than the sons of Mr. and Mrs. John Doe, and brothers of Mary Doe, whom lawyers love and hate according to the size of the fee. The Does are nobody, anybody and everybody.
"En Repos and Elsewhere. Over There". By Lansing Warren and Robert A. Donaldson, pp. 112. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co. 1919.
A small volume of verse treating of the lighter as well as the more serious impressions of the War viewed from the stand-point of two Leland Stanford students who were volunteers in Section 18 of the Field Service. The Introduction is by Lieutenant 'Colonel A. Piatt Andrew.
Referring to the so-called volunteer ribbon, the following clipping from the " Journal " of January 12, 1919 is of interest.
"Depuis quelque temps déjà, une nouvelle décoration est vendue sous le titre fallacieux d'insigne officiel des engagés volontaires. Or, ce ruban, qui reproduit généralement la disposition de la Médaille Militaire, n'a aucune valeur officielle et expose ses porteurs à des poursuites pour port illégal de décoration. Rappelons que le véritable insigne est actuellement à l'étude. Il consistera, vraisemblablement, en une agrafe ajoutée au ruban de la médaille commémorative. "
Tribute and praise such as Frenchmen alone know how, properly to accord is paid the members of the American Field Service by George H. Seldes, a French writer in a recent issue of a French publication.
Speaking of the ambulance and camion drivers the writer says:
"France knows these eight hundred (the camion drivers) as the first American belligerants. France,--- the strength of France in the field, --- knows their companions, knows the twenty-two hundred other college boys, as "les amis de France", the friends of France from the first days of the war.
"The Chemin des Dames was won by French infantry, French artillery and --- these eight hundred American college boys, who carried every one of the million shells, used in the fight, every log, every inch of barbed wire, and every bomb and grenade. From Flanders and the Somme, from the Champagne, and from Verdun and Lorraine, and from Salonika the wounded poilus have been carried on bloodsoaked stretchers, and swaying ambulances under shrapnel hail and bursting shells to safety and recovery by these 2.200 "ambulanciers américains".
The articles continues to tell the story of how the American Ambulance and American Field Service grew out of the hospital at Neuilly, and how it continued until 1917; mentioning the decorations, numerous they were that the ambulance men won, and the story of how Lamont won the Medaille militaire in the camion service for bravery in driving in the Chemin des Dames battle.
"The French Army has decorated 204 members of the A. F. S. with the Croix de guerre."
"But that is not all. The regard of France is better voiced by the French officer who pinned the war cross, on Richard Hall's coffin (the first Field service man killed) and said in conclusion of the service at the grave :
"Driver Richard Hall, your body alone, gloriously mutilated, disappears ; your soul has ascended to God ; your memory remains in our hearts, imperishable. Les Français n'oublient pas ' ".
"France will never forget these three thousand Americans".
The Field Service Headquarters would be very grateful if all former members who are returning to America would notify 21, rue Raynouard at the same time giving their permanent home address;
Among those returning to America are Peter Lorillard Kent (2nd. Lt. U. S. Engineers), O. E. Loomis (S.S.U. 31), Emmett H. Shaw (S.S.U. 26), Hugh Reed (T.M.U. 526) and William C. Towle .(S.S.U. 70).
|Arthur D. Alkire (S.S.U. 15).
Capt. Wm. J. Bingham (S.S.U. 2 and 30).
Capt. W. De F. Bigelow (S.S.U. 4).
Edward B. Blue (T.M.U. 526).
K. D. F. Bigelow (T.M.U. 133).
Albert Brook (S.S.U. 30).
Arthur B. Belden (S.S.U. 72).
Robert B. Burroughs (S.S.U. 12).
Delos A. Chapelle (S.S.U. 29).
Samuel Chamberlain (S.S.U. 14). -
A. E. Collinson (T.M.U. 526).
H. M. Conard (T.M.U. 133).
Lambert L. Dunn (S.S.U. 15).
B. P. Eldred, Jr. (S.S.U. 66).
Donald F. Fox (S.S.U. 14).
John F. Fitzpatrick (S.S.U. 13).
Edward M. Gibbs (S.S.U. 13).
Robert E. Graf, Jr. (S.S.U. 13).
Raymond T. Hanks (T.M.U. 133).
Andrew Jack (S.S.U. 16).
E. D. Kneass Jr. (S.S.U. 10).
W. H. Lillie (S.S.U. 4 and 10).
O. E. Loomis (S.S.U. 31).
Kenneth A. Lord (T.M.U. 133).
D. F. MacDonald, Jr. (S.S.U. 69).
Paul Niesley (S.S.U. 13).
Perry H. Merrill (S.S.U. 12).
Lieut. A. T. Miles (S.S.U. 8).
J. M. Parmelee (S.S.U. 27).
August A. Rubel (S.S.U.. 13).
F. E. Samuels (S.S.U. 12).
Frederick L. Sexton (S.S.U. 14).
Douglas M. Smith (T.M.U. 526).
Edward S. Storer (S.S.U. 13).
Otis I. Strong (S.S.U. 10).
Paul Squibb. (S.S.U. 30).
John. M. Swasey (S.S.U. 29).
Edward B. Turrill (S.S.U. 15).
E. Newell Ware (S.S.U. 13).
John B. Watkins (S.S.U. 17).
Lieut. Bennett Wells (T.M.U. 526).
Francis V. V. Wethey (S.S.U. 13).
Ensign, Walter White (S.S.U. 4).
Wallace N. Wells (S.S.U. 9).
George R. Young (Boston Hdqs.)
Es ist longtemps since I have vous écrit parce qu'ich kann no longer parler ordinary Anglais, und I had peur that sie would nicht verstehe pas. Wir sind en Alsace, vous savez, und too many langues spoil the vocabulaire, nicht var? Die Leute par ici speak Allemand, les soldats talk French fluently, and wir, qui parle l'Anglais, get all mixed up. The Deutscherishers talk Français and English un petit peu, the poilus sprichen Deutsch and English ein wenig. Darum wir parlent a little bit of tous les trois.
This complicates la vie considerablement. Wenn you have auf ein Wirtshaft gegangen, la Madame says, "Bonjour, Monsieur, Was wollen sie? " and vous dites, "Guten Abend, Madame, geben-sie mir ein buteille of beer." Et quand vous avez finished, sie sagen, "Combien? " and she says, "Zwansig sous." Avant de partir you say, "Gute nacht, Madame," et elle répond, Au revoir, Mein Herr." And quelque poilu calls out, "Good night - oh yess." That machts es difficille.
Aber ça ne fait rien. The Liberation von, Elsäss marche bien. Wir haben évacué tous les buvettes, and the Deutsche Bier n'existe plus. We have acheté beaucoup de German souvenirs to sell zum dem green peas auf dem Y. M. C. A. à Paris. Mais c'est verboten to go there maintenant. Wir müssen get permission to go en permission. Das ist sehr traurig, n'est pas? Peut-être es ist var qu'on have saved the world für la démocratie, but la liberté is scarcer than hell où nous sommes. Il y a plenty of soldats Américains ici A. W. O. L., aber nous can't seem to macht ein get away. Der Weg zum Frieden ist ein route très longue und très mauvaise für autos.
We have had kein lettres from home depuis the Armistice. Les Folks croyait that we were coming Heim tout de suite. And wir aussi. Aber nous were the bonnes poires encore. We would lieben d'être mustered aus hier en France. However, sie kannen jamais tell. Probablement we will to Base Camp allé, oder zum ein parc where we may have to arbeiten. That would be nicht gut, vous savez.
Anyhow, notre division will be busted up bald. Und der armistice will be fini, Gott sie dankt. Wo wir will gehen, nous should worry.
Voulez-vous, Cher Bulletin, accepter mes meilleurs sentiments, and wishes for ein Freundliche Weinnachten and a Prosit Neu Yahr. Mit lof,
In all the jumble of troops that the war has thrown incongruously together in the melting-pot of Northern France, the most widely-known and unusual of them all is the American Mission, Reserve Mallet, an ammunition-carrying Organization of the Motor Transport Corps and of the French Service Automobile.
French and "American" are interchangeable languages in the unit, and you are liable to hear one spoken as often as the other. Three distinct organizations are included in or with it---the Reserve Mallet, which is the third automobile reserve of the French armies; the American Field Service and the 407th, 408th and 409th trains of the M.T.C.
More shells were fed to the French and American 3-inch guns that blasted the Germans off the Marne, the Vesle and the Oise by this organization, than by any other of its size in France. Between June 6 and November 11 (when the armistice was signed) the American drivers alone hauled more than 6.000.000 shells of all varieties to the guns. In addition, they also hauled 23.488 tons of infantry ammunition. This hauling did not mean transferring from one dépôt to another ; it meant hauling from the rail-head to the guns themselves.
Probably no organization has done more to cement the friendship of France and the United States. In no organization was an alliance of nationalities of more mutual help---the French bringing experience and the Americans youth and energy.
Captain Pavillon, at present commanding the organization at Sedan, said a few days ago :---
"The vicissitudes of war undergone together, the dangers and the fatigues suffered in common have served to create between us ties that we will never forget. The Reserve is like a big family, where, without distinction of nationality, all are comrades and where there is not only mutual respect but something deeper."
But the American and French drivers, working together, have hauled not only ammunition to the front, but they have found time also to pick up tanks and get them over ground faster on their way to participate in an attack. The tanks which took part in the fighting around Château-Forcien, and again at Tahure, south of Vouziers, were hauled there by the camions of this organization.
About sixteen Americans of the Reserve have been recommended for the Croix de Guerre, and some of them have already received it after approval by the American G.H.Q. Some of the citations were for the courage shown by the Americans in rescuing French comrades when munitions parks were shelled or bombed. Then there are other unforgettable but unmentionable incidents talked of among the men, of how so-and-so voluntarily drove camions loaded with ammunitions out of danger of bombs and shells that were falling about the road, or the munitions parks.
The first work of the Americans. in the Reserve was done on the Chemin des Dames in 1917. The American personnel at that time was made up of the drivers of the American Field Service, acting voluntarily with the French Army. They were called by the French the "First American Belligerents." The men enlisted in the American Army later, and then the 408th, 409th and 407th were sent to join them, all continuing to stay with the French. They again were sent into the fray when the German drive of March 21 started, and worked with scarcely a day of rest till the armistice was signed.
The Reserve Mallet itself holds quite a distinctive place in the French Army. It was formed during the first battle of the Marne, when taxi-cabs were requisitioned to rush troops out of Paris. It was at Verdun in 1916, and in the same year on the Somme, when the British began their first battle there. It was recuperating from this when, in the spring of 1917, colonel A. Piatt Andrew, of the American Field Service, was asked to lend some of his ambulance drivers.
The drivers of the American Mission took part in practically every French offensive.
In preparation for the Franco-American offensive of July 18, these camion drivers hauled 946.963 "soixante-quinze" shells, 45.195 of the "105" variety, 211.830 of the "155" variety, and 20.700 of the "120" variety.
During the Château-Thierry offensive they hauled almost as many.
When the French began their rapid advance through Montdidier and Saint-Quentin, the drivers of this organization, between September 25 and November 11, hauled 1.715.437 shells of the "75" calibre, 68.441 of the "105" 415.083 of the "155," 17.200 of the "120," and 13.255 of the great "210," besides 6.762 tons of infantry ammunition.
Captain P. B. K. Potter, of the United States Army, and Captain Pavillon, succeeding Commandant Mallet, of the French Army, command the organization.
I got it from Headquarters,
We will have a week in Paris
Then they'll put us on a steamer
Discharge in France will be arranged
Pay for six months from discharge,
The nations who took part in the Hague Conference solemnly bound themselves to make war according to the laws of the civilization. Germany subscribed to their sacred oath. Her intention not to adhere to her oath is proved to us in the military instructions given to the Army in the "Kriegsbrauch".
Page 1. - "An energetically conducted war must not be sought only against the armies of the enemy, and against its fortified places; the aim will and must be ALSO TO DESTROY ALL THE INTELLECTUAL AND MATERIAL RESOURCES OF THE ENEMY.
"Human considerations i. e. leniency towards people and property are not conceivable, except to an extent consistent with the nature and the aims of the war. "
Page 3. --- "A profound study of the history of war will warn the officer against exaggerated -human ideas and make him realize that war cannot be waged without harshness ; and even that RELENTLESS METHODS ARE TRUE PHILANTHROPY."
Page 9. --- "ANY ENGINES invented by modern technology, even the most perfected, the most dangerous, THE BEST SUITED TO KILL THE GREATEST NUMBER MAY BE USED. The latter engines are the most efficient for a prompt conclusion of the war ; they are even --- if the case is rightly understood--- the most humane and indispensable."
Page 16. --- "War prisoners can be killed if necessary, if there is no other way of securing one's own safety."
Page 20. --- "The presence of women children, aged people, wounded men and invalids in a bombed town may hasten its surrender; it would be simply folly on the part of the besieger to give up the advantage (#2)
Page 24. --- About the corruption of civilians and soldiers to obtain information : "Such ways and means are neither fair nor moral but one must admit that it is necessary to use them.
THE INHABITANTS AND THEIR PROPERTIES
Page 48. --- The inhabitants will be compelled to give information regarding the army, the military forces and the military secrets of their own country. Most writers of all nationalities condemn the use of these means of information, NEVETHERLESS THEY MUST BE USED --- though we regret it --but it is justifiable as a war measure. " (Kriegsraison.)
Page 50. --- To protect ones self against possible attacks and injuries from the inhabitants, use without any consideration every means of intimidation : this is of course needless to say, the duty of any commanding officer. 11
Page 51. --- A native WHO HAS BEEN FORCED TO ACT AS GUIDE, and who has betrayed our confidence is a criminal. He owed obedience to the power in possession of his country " No matter what the extenuating circumstances may be, the criminal deserves THE PAIN OF DEATHS for it is only by inflicting such severe punishment that such crimes can be prevented.
Page 54. --- Any injury done for war purposes no matter how great, is allowable.
THE GLORIOUS DEAD
The Glorious Dead speak :
Frederick W. KURTH,
UPON READING « D. D. » AND OTHERS
If in languages you're yearning
Be a fervid faithful reader
If you'll only think of hens
Though the Marshal isn't Scotch,
Don't be struck by pessimism
Just recall that rather fancy
We're afraid we'll have to squeal
N. B. --- The whole educational point of this poem will be lost unless, in the third line of the last stanza, "chance" is pronounced to rhyme with "pants". "Pants" is the only word of that ilk---in my meagre experience --- which admits of only one pronunciation, but it is also a word which, try as I would, I found practically impossible to weave into the plot.
J. W. C.
A copy of "The Leading Edge ", the official newspaper of the Naval Aviation Detachment stationed at Porto Corsini, Italy, has reached the Bulletin. This newspaper is of especial interest to the A. F. S. as four of the five editors are old Field Service men. K. Stuart (S.S.U. 10) editor in chief, J. Graffis (T.M.U. 526), C. W. Gates (S.S.U. 13) and Walter White (S.S.U. 4) associate editors. It is recalled that the following Field Service men were pilots in this detachment:
W. B, Haviland (S.S.U. 2) commanding officer.
E. I. Tinkham (T.M.U. 526).
W. White (S.S.U. 10).,
K. Stuart (S.S.U. 10).
W. S. Gilmore (S.S.U. 12).
H. Gortner (T.M.U. 133).
A. P. Taliaferro (T.M.U. 526).
J. M. Graffis (T.M.U. 526).
E. M. Smith (T.M.U. 526).
R. A. Clark (S.S.U. 10).
The Field Service Headquarters would be very grateful if all former members who are returning to America would notify, 21, rue Raynouard at the same time giving their permanent home address.
On February 4th will appear the "Armistice Day" number and following that we are to have one issue taken over by S.S.U. 636 (old 18) and another by the Reserve Mallet. We hope that all the Sections will see the advantages of having one issue of the Bulletin devoted to a particular section, wherein can be brought out all the reminiscenses that will be appreciated by their former members and to which talented members in other services might well be pleased to contribute for the honor of their old section.
Lieut. Everett I. Stanley, Intelligence Department U. S. Army, formerly S. S. U. 12, is returning to America.
Lieut. Walter Ives U. S. A. A. S. (S.S.U., 32) has, returned to America.
Among the visitors at "21" recently was Stirling Campbell Alexander (S.S.U. 19) now in Aviation who is wearing a Distinguished Service Cross.
Harold B. Willis (old S.S.U. 2) who was a prisoner in, Germany for a long time is now in Boston. He is to have his journal published by Houghton Mifflin, Company..
Sgt. First Class James W. Harle on account of eye trouble is leaving his position at the S. P. O. Departs of the U.S.A.A.S. and is to be returned to the United States for his discharge from the Army. Apart from the long and faithful service he has given at the Post Office of the USAAS, he is one of the members of oldest the Field Service, having served with Sections 1, 2 and 10 and later at Field Service Headquarters. He entered the American Field Service in February 1915.
The POSTMASTER "21, rue Raynouard" is holding the following letters and telegrams, forwarding address being unknown :
Letters for :
Harold A. Felhous.
Russell C. Manchester.
Lieut. Francis D. Weeks.
Paul Abbott (T.M.U. 133).
Sidney B. Ashmore (S.S.U. 13).
Sgt. John T. Bell (T.M.U. 184).
Arthur J. Bennett (S.S.U. 8).
Charles A. Blackwell (S.S.U. 64).
Robert J. Burroughs (S.S.U. 12).
Edward B. Blue (T.M.U. 526).
Capt. William J. Bingham (S.S.U. 30 and 2).
T. M. Brunson (T.M.U. 184).
William L. Cahill (T.M.U. 184).
Robert N. Chambers (S.S.U. 16).
A. E. Collinson (T.M.U. 526).
L. H. Davidson (T.M.U. 184).
R. E. Dickerman (T.M.U. 184).
Rowland W. Dodson (T.M.U. 184).
Sidney C. Doolittle (S.S.U. 68).
J. A. Gordon (T.M.U. 184).
William R. Hees, Jr. (T.M.U. 397 and S.S.U. 67).
Andrew K. Henry (T.M.U. 527).
Robert Hyman (T.M.U. 242).
Edward D. Kneass (S.S.U. 10).
Paul Niesley (S.S.U. 13).
Richard Parmenter (T.M.U. 526).
Edmund J. Phelps Jr. (S.S.U. 26).
William H. Renfrew (T.M.U. 526).
Robert R. Rieser S.S.U. 3).
Clarence F. Roe (T.M.U. 526).
Fred l. Samuels (S.S.U. 12).
James W. D. Seymour (S.S.U. 17).
Ellis D. Slater (S.S.U. 26).
Lorrain G. Smith (S.S.U. 4).
Edward S. Storer (S.S.U. 13).
Richard Temple (T.M.U. 526).
A. I. G. Valentine (S.S.U. 32).
John B. Whitton (T.M.U. 133).
Bartlett Wicks (S.S.U. 67).
Robert W. Wood (S.S.U. 10).
Waldemar Wrangen (S.S.U. 15).
A considerable amount of baggage still remains unclaimed in the cinema in the rue Raynouard. The owners should not fail, when passing through Paris, to look after whatever of their property may be in storage in this cinema, and arrange either for its shipment to America or its disposition elsewhere.
In this connection attention is called to the fact that privates in the United States Army will only be allowed to carry with them luggage amounting to 75 pounds in weight; first and second lieutenants, will be allowed only 150 pounds, and captains only 200 pounds. It should also be impossible for men in the Expeditionary Force to pass through Paris; Verbum sapiente.
THE GUNS ARE STILLED
(NOVEMBER 11TH, 1918)
The guns are stilled; how quiet now
Wm. Cary SANGER, Jr.
Now comes the silence of the night
Stillness rests on the countryside
The old stars shine; and a silence strange
November 12, 1918.
The Prize of Fifty Francs offered for the best article descriptive of
Armistice Day has been awarded to Lieut. Walter J. Gores, formerly S. S. U. 70 and 18 for the following:
NOVEMBER 12th, 1918.
It is just a little. over a year since old section soixante-dix joined the army and took over old section eighteen, and here we are back in the region of Châlons-sur-Marne where we started out our U.S. Army career. Many things have happened since then --- so many it would be difficult to remember, let alone recount them all. We have travelled up and down the whole western front in the meantime, from Flanders to the Vosges, "en repos" and "en bataille ". But under what different circumstances are we back in that selfsame sector of "Les Monts" ! Then, and e'en yesterday, it was "la guerre" ; to-day it is "l'armistice". It doesn't quite seem possible, and yet it must be true, for to-night, as I write this memento in my diary with the aid of a pigeon lamp, I can see through my unmasked window the unaccustomed blinding headlights of passing automobiles as, they speed by with loads of singing merrymakers still celebrating the big event.
Yesterday was a day of days --- one which will cling in my memory as long as life itself. It was the day that the French had been waiting for so patiently these long four years, and which even we comparative newcomers in the game had begun to long for too. It seemed so far away during the anxious days of last Spring previous to the great offensive which was to bring victory to the German arms; and even farther still during the dark and trying days of last Summer. Then came the great smash below Soissons, in which we played our tiny part, and with it great hope and promise. Success followed upon success and then, suddenly, came the final and great victory of yesterday. The once tumultuous front has sunk into unaccustomed slumber --- a slumber from which it will never awaken.
Of all the towns in France, I could not have chosen a better than Châlons in which to have spent that day. Even Paris, with all its wild enthusiasm, could not have stirred in me the feeling of deep significance and the realization of the momentousness of the occasion as this town did. My impression of Châlons, the last time I saw it in March just previous to the opening of the Boche offensive, was one of utter desolation and sadness, and had left with me the poignant feeling of what a terribly cruel and needlessly inhumane thing war is --- especially as the Germans wage it. It was at a moment when, after many terrifying nights of continual air-raids by German planes, the order for the evacuation of the town had finally been given. Much material damage had been done and many, innocent civilians killed. In many places the streets were strewn with débris from wrecked buildings, and in one place the trees, house tops, and telephone wires and poles were strewn with scattered bandages and wound dressings for hundreds of feet around where a Red Cross medical supply depot had been struck by an incendiary bomb. The streets were deserted save for a few tardy refugees, old men, women and children, with their arms full of precious belongings and the haunting look of fear and terror in their eyes, hastening to leave the town before the on-coming night and the death and destruction that was sure to follow. The picture was complete, as I quickened my step through the main street of the town, by the coldly staring and inhospitable boards and shutters which barred the doors and windows of the stores and houses. A cold shudder ran through me as I reached the canal and river and left it all behind. 1 wanted never to see the town, again, but to remember it by its gaier, happier days, as 1 had known it the Winter before.
How different its appearance yesterday, in its festive, holiday mood! Such a scene of happiness and wild exuberance it would be difficult to describe. Nothing was there left of its sadness as I saw it six months before ; rather was it as if reincarnated and given a new, long lease on life. The streets were filled to overflowing with thousands of singing and shouting soldiers. Everyone had a flag, no matter of which ally. The automobiles were bedecked with flowers and ribbons and flags, and they honked their horns and klaxons for the sheer pleasure of making noise rather than to clear their path. The streets were one long blaze of color, red, white and blue, with a Tricolor or the Stars and Stripes in every window and on every house-top. -The day of glory had at last arrived and everyone was hilariously happy. Here and there, to be sure, a sad note was struck by the, appearance of some Mother or widowed Wife in mourning; but even they, it seemed, held their head a, bit higher than usual, proud, if not happy, in their sacrifice of a loved one to a cause they knew to be just and right --- proud that that happy moment had been made possible for France and for all the World.
They say that yesterday was much like that other day, August the fourth, in 1914, when France's best went forth to stem the onrushing tide, with a song on their lips and a rose in the muzzle of their gun. Many of those weren't there with us yesterday to join in the shout of victory; but we were with them. in spirit, for it was their day more than ours. It was a day, no matter how small our part in its achievement, which will always be a bright spot in our memory to look back upon with much pride and happiness. It cannot compensate for all --these lives that have been lost will ne'er come back --- but it at least makes up for many of the unpleasant moments, unhappiness and suffering, that has gone before, in that it will lead to agreements between nations that will prevent for all time the reoccurrence of such a world catastrophe. Vive la Paix!
Walter J. GORES,
S.S.U. 70 and 18.
Wm. Cary SANGER, Jr.
I did not have the good fortune to be in Paris on the Big Day, to be kissed by all the women, and to snake-dance down the Champs-Elysées with the bankers, but I attended the ceremonies of a day that was a close second : the day of the triumphal entry of French troops into Luxembourg. I was in an auto with several French officers, and it happened that on the road we passed the troops that were to make the entry, and arrived in the city about an hour before them.
We found the city all dressed up in its best, with flags and bunting hung in every conceivable place. French flags were as numerous as the flags of the Duchy, and here and there an American one stood out in all its beauty. It was not the decoration, however, that was the big feature, ---for I had seen such decorations in all. parts of Belgium, --- but the spirit of festivity, the unalloyed joy that the inhabitants of the city, showed at seeing once more their French neighbors. I doubt if a car bearing so unassuming a gathering as outs. ever received greater acclaim. On all sides, --- for the people were already lined up for the greeting of the approaching troops, --- arose cries of « Vive la France », « Vive les Alliés », and then « Vive l'Amérique «, when they caught a glimpse of my khaki uniform. They swarmed around the car ; they smiled and doffed their hats, --- at least the men did, --- while the women waved their handkerchiefs and pressed forward to shake hands, But we were rather premature, so we withdrew, to a quiet corner, and then set out on foot to see some of the sights, before the real heroes of the day, the poilus, arrived,
For a while I was alone and I wandered in the direction opposite to that taken by the crowds. Suddenly the wonderful valley which cuts the city in two came into view, and then the wonderful stone bridge. The days of knighthood came to mind immediately that this scene came in sight, for romance is expressed in every feature of the landscape. The sides of the valley were a bright green, with a lawn as even as a carpet, and the vivid blue of the stream flowing at the bottom made an effect that reminded of costly jewels. Across the valley stands a great solid building with turrets, towers, and battlements, and in minor relief stand the little houses of the valley with their turrets and facades, all on a lesser scale. The bridge is worthy of special note. It is so broad that besides two sidewalks and a railroad track, there is a passage across it wide enough for three abreast. The middle is a huge span 30 meters across at the bottom, and proportionate in height, --- which the populace claim is a record. Although of massive construction, every line is beautiful, and from one end to the other of its great length, every feature, every corner expresses architectural finish.
A distant fanfare warned me that the troops were approaching the city, and I hurried to the big square where they were to be reviewed. Here all was excitement and hilarity. Everybody was laughing ; every one was striving to get a better place of vantage: on all sides was good-natured chaff as the crowd swayed from one side to the other. And then the soldiers came into sight! The good nature and enthusiasm of the people grew to fever-pitch, and the shouting and cheering echoed and re-echoed through the city like the reverberations of thunder. « Vive les Français «, « Vive les Poilus », « Vive les Libérateurs », « Vive les Alliés », --- so it' went on, and the poilus were stormed and overcome in the fury of the cheering avalanche, I doubt if a single soldier went unkissed, and I doubt still more if any soldier passed through with only a single kiss. I participated in the grand jubilee with great pleasure, and did not regret in the least missing the Paris celebration. The Luxembourgoise compare very favorably with the Parisiennes. The festival ended with a great storm of flowers which the crowd threw at everybody in sight, and the street looked like Nero's hall after the flower-shower at one of his grand dinners..
Before we left I had the opportunity to walk about once more, and this time I entered into conversation with many of the people. I couldn't but think of a phrase that I once read in one of my German books : Leipsic ist ein klein Paris, und bildet seine Leute, substituting, of course, « Luxembourg » for « Leipsic «. The similarity is most striking. Out of perhaps a dozen people that I spoke to, ten could speak not only French and German but even English, enough to carry on an intelligent conversation. Two little girls not over eight years old conversed with me alternately in the three languages. And I managed to get myself all twisted up, by beginning a sentence in German, switching off to French, and ending up absolutely tongue-tied with not a word of any language in my head. Most of these people who spoke English had never been outside of the Duchy, and yet their accent was astonishingly correct and accurate. In addition to all this they naturally all spoke their native language which, so far as I could make out, is a conglomeration of the three languages mentioned above, --- and several others. They are proud of their city, --- as they may well be, --- and from the littlest ones up they spoke of the different features with an interest that showed individual feeling, or what we would call « community spirit ». The older people, too, showed a comprehension of world politics although slightly out of date after the German invasion.
I had noticed that the people were very well and very tastefully dressed, and that the little girls and boys were as attractive as those one sees on the Champs-Elysees and the Boulevards. This struck me very forcibly, especially as the prices during the German occupation had soared to an, unheard of level. A spool of thread cost twenty francs, and a pair of ordinary shoes, of ordinary height, cost 300 francs. Other articles are on a par with these prices. However. I did not see a single poorly dressed, person all the time that I was there, though the whole town was in the streets.
When I come back to France after the war's mark has been obliterated, I shall surely go to see Luxemburg in the tranquilness of normal life Luxemburg the Romantic, Luxemburg the Cultured, Luxemburg, with its odd mixture of the Old and the New.
FREDERICH W. KURTH.
Something, told of peace that day as coming events cast their shadows before. We had barely missed seeing the German delegates as they passed over the same road we were travelling on their way to Senlis. But there had been no papers that day.
Through the amber haze we could see the cathedral of St. Quentin high on the hill as we approached the city on the road from Ham, through barrens of demolished trenches --- no man's land for almost four years. There was a huge mine hole just before we entered St. Quentin; the work of the Germans, as were the two concrete pillboxes from which machines gunners could command the approach from five different streets.
We drove on up the street on which these were built past the ruined houses all of them stripped bare of metals. On one or two still in good shape was the word "Kantine". The Germans had left their mark, all right. Finally we turned to the right to get to the groupement headquarters when we heard the notes of a French bugle ringing over the trees of the park which we reached at the next turn of the street. Pleasant this must have been in peace times with its tall elm trees and the bandstand in the center and its fountains and flower plots. Now part of it was used by the Germans as a cemetery, and over a gate entering another part was the word "Abteilung". The graves in the part used as a cemetery were crowded together in Teutonic orderliness and each had a small stone cross at the head.
The bugle was calling rassemblement as we went a little farther and saw a regiment of Chasseurs Alpins were being formed in an open place in the park. It was two o'clock in the afternoon of Nov. 11. In an open square they fell in behind the little group of buglers and the général de brigade and his staff of officers. The officer in charge of them snapped several orders which the Blue Devils executed with swift precision going through a few simple parade manuvers for ten minutes or so. At the end of this time they ended their movements in the same formation they had started with, drawn up behind the musicians. These latter flourished their instruments in a perplexing movement of swinging them outward and around and the blare of martial music rang out again through the park.
With sword drawn, the officer in command of the Chasseurs advances to the général de Brigade and salutes. He swings his sword from the shoulder straight into the air then to the ground, and then to the tip of his cap and back to position. A splendid figure of a man he is, in his closefitting black uniform, and his picturesque chasseurs cap and the croix de guerre with the palm which he wears on his breast. The general too is imposing in his long flowing blue cape and his cap adorned with laurel leaves, standing rigid and straight, with his staff officers. The general salutes and then the musicians play "Sambre et Meuse".
With all its settings the review seems to us the most imposing we have seen as we watch the Chasseurs, who have just come out of the fighting up beyond Guise, stand motionless at present arms, and feel the thrill of the stirring notes of "Sambre et Meuse".
Presently the music stops and the general advances a few steps toward the troops. He speaks to them almost affectionately.
"Soldiers of the Republic", he says simply, "the armistice was signed at five o'clock; fighting ceased at eleven. The war is over".
There is no burst of cheering from these men who struck terror into the hearts of the Germans and won themselves the name of Blue Devils. They stand unmoved and save for the gleam in their eyes, their feeling at hearing the news is undemonstrated.
The general then referred to their past hardships, days when all did not go well, but days which were now crowned with glory and victory.
"And now you have reserved for you a great honor. You have been chosen as the van guard of the army of occupation. You are going into Germany. While the fighting is over, our task is unfinished. It may seem hard to be kept longer from your families and your homes. Mais, c'est pour la France ", he concluded fervently.
The music started again as the general finished speaking and as he turned to walk away he noticed us --- little group of ten or twelve Americans who were watching the review. We came to attention, preparing to salute, when the General himself saluted us first.
So it was that in her hour of triumph, France forgot her own glory to honor the nation that had come to her aid.
And so it was that we learned of the Armistice.
David DARRAH/R. M.
That the joys of anticipation are greater than the joys of participation or realization seems to be borne out by what happened, or at least, what failed to happen when Foch's' Armistice Order came to the armies.
How often, in our moments of wildest fancy, have we looked forward to that almost unimaginable and elusive "fin de la guerre ". What would it be like? Would there be wild celebrations, and unrestrained manifestations of joy and happiness? Would the news of "The End" be an electrifying impulse of supreme elation?
As it happens, this madness and intoxication of victory seem to have possessed only those regions and those peoples more remote from the theatre of military operations. Paris threw herself into a frenzied orgy--- New York went literally mad.
But what a different picture we see at the front. The poilus said, "What fools, these Parisians " --- those sturdy little poilus of France, who had for four years faced the trials, and fortunes of War, without its "pomp and circumstance"; who had faced Death itself, and, what is more than Death, the mud, rain, snow, and ice of the trenches, and the open fields.
When the order came for the cessation of hostilities, they shook each other by the hand. "Eh bien, mon vieux; la guerre est finie. Pas trop tôt, tu sais. C'est dommage que nous n'avons pas quelques bouteilles de champagne, eh."
That was all. And how could it have been otherwise?
When one has suffered, and toiled, and fought for four long years, one cannot immediately grasp the end of it all. The day to which all had been looking forward had come. Long ago it seemed that day would he almost like the millenium itself, perhaps a golden aurora of Peace and Victory would be hanging in the sky. But the day of the Armistice was a day like those before.
It was over; but the brave soldiers of France did not cry "Victory". They did not assume the attitude of victors in the strife, but the attitude of workers who had done their work well. It was the spirit of satisfaction rather than the spirit of having won.
"Our immediate danger is forestalled", they said, "but France, our dear France, has suffered. There is much to be done to restore our little Fairyland. Now our task is to build, and to preserve the rights which we have gained."
And so The End was not an end, but a beginning; a beginning of a new spirit of Freedom, and Construction; and the soldiers of yesterday have come back from the man-made Hell of fire and torture to build.
NOVEMBER, 11 1919
Earth paused awhile on this fateful night
Then towered high our mighty Earth and cried
Armistice morning found me at the small outpost of Vanifosse down in the Vosges where they only play at war. At least, so thought what was left of the sixtieth division Française, after coming from their strenuous experiences in the north. So armistice day dawned about like any other day We heard the sound of an occasional "75", disturb the mountain solitudes and go echoing along for miles sharpened by its collision with each peak until lost, it seemed, in some distant valley. I was quite disappointed at the absence of thrills as. the morning wore away. Close upon eleven o'clock I wandered up on to a hill which commanded a fine view of the region. I paused here, confronted by Nature's largeness, and variety of color, and the impressiveness of Her silences. It was such as to make one forget the hour, until suddenly there burst forth a roar of cannon which surcharged the solitudes with echoes, and brought upon me a revulsion of feeling. I knew it was the signal that that moment ended the mightiest contest in man's history. I looked down at my feet. There was still the tangled barbed wire, the massive dug-outs, the fantastic camouflage, but all different, --- changed in a moment to relics of the past. For now, 1 mused, the world was entering upon a new and wonderful era which was to surpass all previous racial attainments. There came to me a vision of the ideals, so long dreamed of by sages, to be realized sometime in this age, --- of man emerging from darkness and oppression and coming into his inheritance of liberty and development. Indeed I pictured a grand triumphal celebration to usher in the new order of things. It would consist of representation of all the leading oppressors throughout history, from the Pharaohs, and Nero, down to Wilhelm. These would be led in captivity by a group of common men and women who from henceforth were to live in freedom their own arbiters, --- in a new world where there should exist none other than moral and intellectual superiority, by which alone are men really differentiated. Among this group would appear also those democratic leaders who are gentle and humanitarian; but all the proud and arrogant would be cast out. Thus grew my vision of the ushering in of the new age for which men have died during these four long years. But gradually, I came to consider the means to attain this happy state which is really still in the far distant future I realized that even as the physical struggle was ending, the battle of ideas was beginning, to go on never-ceasing, in its place. The means of the realization of man's high heritage, must come through freedom. He must be able to act, voluntarily, unhampered, guided and inspired only by his reason and the Right, Truth, God. Without this, all systems of national or international government, all creeds, all philosophies, will avail nothing. I tried to think of how this could be applied to the average person. I have observed in army life, that many seem to have forgotten that they have a will, judging from their impulsive actions and their attempts at explanation. This is the philosophical theory of modern Germany, or has been. Only the leaders were supposed to be able to employ volition. If the Kaiser or some autocrat could establish that belief everywhere, he would have the world at his feet in subjection. In so far as we allow the supreme power of will to decay, we go over to the side of Kaiserism, in this battle of Ideas. Our nation and society may or may not become an autocracy, according to the result of this battle. As a citizen of our great Republic where even now the autocratic ideals of class distinction and of industrial absolutism are trying to entrench themselves, I hope we of the army will enter the battle of Ideas on the same side we have been fighting in France. If so, we shall have to carefully consider each contemplated action of life, choose whichever side is pronounced worthy by our judgment, and carry that objective at any cost, be it the loss of temporary pleasure, money or worldly prestige. , Anything different will slowly ruin our will and character, and oppose the progress of the glorious age we have been privileged to enter.
R. J. BURROUGHS.
As Paris, joy-mad, waved her flags above
John B. WHITTON.
At noon time I went down town to do some errands in my unofficial capacity of errand boy for those not in Paris. Already people were marching about the streets, usually with a band at the head of the procession. One of 'these groups had halted to serenade some one in front of the Continental.
As I came back to the office I met The Crab coming out of the Yard. "Don't go in," he said. "Everyone has gone out except the non-coms and if you go in you will queer the bunch." Accordingly we repaired to the corner café where we found most of our crowd with the girls from the French offices, all apparently engaged in making Paris a safe place for the Prohibitionists. I am here to state that before we left they had made considerable progress.
About four o'clock those of us who had any ideas on any subject decided that we had better take the truck for our return to the barracks. Before starting we were much relieved, or rather those who had any feelings left were, to learn that our c.o. had not turned up either.
By the time we reached the Bastille people began to climb into the truck, poilus, women, street urchins everyone. When we turned into the boulevards we had such a load that the truck could barely crawl along. Never have I seen such crowds. If you could imagine the jam after a Harvard-Yale game multiplied by about a million, you might have some idea of what we saw down the boulevard as far as the eye could reach. The main difference was that all this crowd was good-natured. In fact during the entire celebration I saw no fights in the street. They did occur in both restaurants and theatres, however.
Long before we reached rue Ganneron all the top of the camion had been broken in. Now if we have bad weather we can ride in the rain. However no one minded. All law and order seemed dispensed with for two days.
From the barracks I walked to the boulevards and then down some distance below the Opera. I stopped at a popular American bar. Men were stationed at the two entrances to let in a certain number at a time from two long lines. I decided that it was hardly worth while, so I walked back to a Montmartre restaurant for dinner without an aperitif.
After dinner I walked to the boulevard again and down to Concorde. there I found the street gamins pushing the trench mortars about as it they had been toys.
In front of the Opera the crowd had stopped a baby Peugeot containing two officers and were pushing it back and forth as one does an express wagon to amuse two children. I saw Mme. Marthe Chenal in her famous Marseillaise costume singing the national anthem. I say "saw" advisedly for from near the entrance to the Metro where I stood not a sound of that voice which has called forth so much eloquence could be heard.
Just to see the long darkened boulevards ablaze with light again was enough to intoxicate one. People who have seen New York on New Year's Eve and New Orleans on Mardi Gras declare that they were tame in comparison. On all sides one heard cries of "Vive l'Amérique ", " Vive l'Angleterre ", " Vive la France."
Sometimes a procession would come along carrying an effigy of the Kaiser hung from a pole. The head was usually that of a pig. Others carried colored lanterns. On both Monday and Tuesday evenings I was so tired by the time I turned in at the barracks that I could hardly push one foot ahead of the other.
At roll call this morning the Captain reminded us that we were once more in the army. Since then the only topic of conversation has been, "How long?"
N. H. P.
November 13, 1918.
Despite the confidence on all sides, despite the false alarm of last week, when at eleven minutes past eleven on the eleventh day of the eleventh month the distant booming of cannon was heard telling us that the armistice had been signed at six o'clock that morning and that fighting had stopped at eleven, a kind of pandemonium broke loose and for the past two days and nights Paris has lived in a state bordering on delirium. And why not? The first firing at Lexington was described: as "the shot heard round the world"! When one stopped to think of the number of people on this old globe who would be directly affected by that distant booming, the thought was overpowering.
Even in our office, surely an infinitesimal corner of the universe two of the civilian employees began weeping, one hysterically and the rest ran about like mad people. These were the same ones who, when the long range gun was shooting in shells at the rate of one every twenty minutes, would scarcely look up from their work, unless one landed quite near and then all one heard was, "Oh, la, la "; the same who sat in cellars night after night last spring and then came to work the next day with a patience and good humor that were little short of Christ-like. Mademoiselle Marcelle, who was shaking with sobs, had lost a brother in the war and had had her fiancé at the front for over two years. Mme. M's husband had been a prisoner since the first year and Mme. R.'s, a large smiling man who has come often to the office, has been unable to work for many months because of a wound. Monsieur D. had closed his little farm in California and come back to the mother country in 1914. And so were the destinies of millions to be changed by that far away cannon!
As for me I was making out an ordre de transport for two Mallet Reserve men. These men do not get to town often and I knew that they wanted to make the most of the few hours before their train left. Consequently during the first ecstatic moments I was writing. Then more men came in and I scarcely had a chance to look up from my desk before the office closed at a quarter to twelve.
Owing to demobilization it is apparent that before many months the majority of the former members of the Field Service will have returned to their former civil life and occupations in the United States and will become widely separated. It seems a great pity that the men of this service who have been through so much together and established so many friendships should thus lose future association and contact with each other --- also that even though the war is over, the Field Service should become nothing but a memory.
I should like to make the suggestion that after 21, rue Raynouard, is closed and the usefulness of the Field Service is over in France, an effort be made to create and maintain in New York city some sort of a Field Service Club, where all former members could meet, renew old friendships and talk over old times. It seems to me that apart from the pleasure this would give to old Field Service members, a plan of this sort would perpetuate for the future both in name and existence an association which will always have its small part in the history of this war and of which we can all- be justly proud.
It. would seem to me that a house in New York might be bought and arranged for this purpose where eating and perhaps sleeping accommodations would be obtainable and such other living, rooms and conveniences as a club of this kind would require. Here could be kept all the old Field Service records, relics, section flags, pictures, etc. Each man who desired to join could pay perhaps $5.00 per year for membership, or perhaps $10.00 if he lived in New York, the other expenses to be met from the receipts at the Club. All these details could easily be worked out later. New York city seems the most logical center.
I make this suggestion hoping that it will arouse interest and discussion among all Field Service members, and hope that others may contribute their ideas on this subject to the Bulletin which is the best method of communication we have.
PAUL F. CADMAN.
Captain Field Artillery, 2nd. F.A. Brigade.
(Formerly S.S.U. 8 and T.M.U. 133).
We have just received word that Second Lieutenant Meredith L. Dowd of the First Pursuit Group of the 147th. Aero Squadron was killed in action on October 26, 1918, Dowd served in the American Field Service from November 1916 to May 1917.
He was a student of Princeton University and his home was in Orange, New Jersey.
The Field Service Headquarters would be very grateful if all former members who are returning to America would notify 21, rue Raynouard at the same time giving their permanent home address.
Among those returning to America are Captain Paul F. Cadman 2nd F. A. Brigade, formerly S. S. U. 8 and T. M. U. 133, and A. P. Taliaferro, Ensign, U. S. Naval Aviation, formerly T. M. U. 526.
F. D. Ogilvie of the British Red Cross, formerly a member of old Section 2, has been demobilized and is returning to England. He would be glad to hear from any of the old members of that Section. His address is 4 Avenue Gardens, Dover, England.
S. R. Hodges (Headquarters) who has been enlisted in the British Army has gone to England to be demobilized and will then return to reside in Paris.
2nd. Lieut. Norman S. Buck, formerly T. M. U. 133, has gone to Constantinople with the U. S. Food Commission.
Harold Hines (S. S. U. 13), is going with the American Red Cross Commission to Palestine.
Ralph N. Barrett (S.S.U. 12) ; Paul F. Cadman (S.S.U. 8 and T.M.U. 133) ; Charles U. Caesar (T.M.U. 184) ; William F. Corry (S.S.U. 13) ; Arthur U. Crosby (S.S.U. 13) ; David Darrah (T.M.U. 242) ; D. M. Dimond (S.S.U. 8) ; R. A. Donaldson (S.S.U. 70); George Dock, Jr. (S.S.U. 2) ; John R. Fisher (S.S.U. 2); George P. Gardere (S.S.U. 18) ; Raymond F. Gibson (S.S.U. 14) ; Richard E. Goss (S.S.U. 70) ; George F. Houston (S.S.U. 641) ; H. M. Hamilton (S.S.U. 69); E. S. Ingham (T.M.U. 397); Andrew Jack (S.S.U. 16) ; Travis P. Lane (T.M.U. 133) ; Walter N. Mc Creight (T.M.U. 184) ; William H. Mc Naughton (S.S.U. 8) ; Edwin G. Nash. (S.S.U. 18) ; Frank S. L. Newcomb (S.S.U. 2);. F. D. Ogilvie (S.S.U. 2) ; Henry D. M. Sherrerd (S.S.U. 2) ; R. Simmons (T.M.U. 184) ; Frank V. V. Wethey (S.S.U. 13) ; G. L. Wilson Jr. (S.S.U. 13 and 69).
The Baggage Department at. 21; rue Raynouard is to be in charge of Mr. Bancharel, formerly of S. S. U. 8, and any inquiries in regard to same should be. addressed to "Baggage Department".
In next week's Bulletin full information will be given in regard to. sending baggage home, in excess of the amount allowed transported by the U. S. Army.