In a letter to his father, Dr. John B. Sullivan of Brooklyn, N. Y.,
an aid with the American Ambulance Field Service in France, Eugene
Sullivan, who got quickly into the thick of things, tells the incidents
of his first day where the Germans were busy. The letter appeared in
the Brooklyn _Eagle_ as follows:
“Well, after being assigned to section ... we went immediately to
the front by going to ..., base of sector, and arriving there were
picked up by section chief and then brought to section headquarters.
Next morning, at eight, was sent out as aid to learn roads, stations,
_postes de secours_, etc. First station at.... Arriving there I
expressed my disappointment, because everything looked so quiet,
except for the village, which, by the way, at one time must have been
lovely, but Germans had destroyed everything—every single house and
building—only a few houses had walls standing. At the improvised relay
station, or _poste de secours_, I left the ambulance and strolled to
the top of a hill.
“Here I could see and was in plain sight of a German observation
balloon, and the German must have taken a dislike to my position,
physique or otherwise, because before long some nice big high
explosive shells started to come my way—so much so I had to postpone
my sight-seeing tour and retire to the _poste de secours_ and join
the others who were in an _abri_, which is an enlarged rat-hole in
the ground. While there an ambulance from a station nearer the first
line of trenches came in with some _blessés_ (wounded) and left word
that he was going to ... to the first hospital. It was then up to us
to go forward to Pont ... to take the place of this ambulance, who on
his return would take our place at ... Well, all went well and we hid
the ambulance at Pont ... in some bushes to wait for some poor fellow
to get his ‘ticket’ for the hospital. Very little happened that day,
except for the shells flying over our heads and a few airplane scraps,
but no wounded. Toward evening an extra ambulance arrived, and we in
the first ambulance got word to go still further to the front, to where
they have never had an ambulance before, but on account of shell-fire
had to wait until darkness.
“This was like preparing me for the inevitable, but finally we got a
French soldier to guide us, and the driver, Harry Dunn, the soldier,
and yours truly, aid, started. All went well until about half over the
rocky and muddy road to Dublin I noticed the soldiers running like mad
for the trenches. For a few seconds I didn’t realize what it meant,
until a shell burst right near us and pieces went hissing right over
the top of the ambulance. Right then yours truly grabbed his steel
helmet from the guide, who was holding it, and just planted it on
his head, and, believe me, thought of home, mother, etc., said a few
prayers, and finally landed under the cover of the French dressing
station.
[Illustration:
_Drawn by Joseph Cummings Chase._