[Illustration]
_From Another Diary_
[Illustration: A WINTER MORNING]
[Illustration: ALSATIAN WOODS IN WINTER]
_November 13._ A bad number and a grim day for 168. At daybreak one
_blessé_, one _malade_, to Moosch. Brake loose as an empty soap-bubble.
Endless convoy of mules appeared at bottom of hill. Tail-enders
received me sideways or full breach--couldn't stop--didn't think to put
on reverse, so did some old-fashioned line-plunging. Heard cases crack,
men swear, mules neigh, but heard no brake taking hold. Tried to
stop later, but only succeeded in doing so by dragging against bank,
which was so straight car rubbed along like an old elephant scratching
its cutlets, and padlocks, keys, tools, side-boxes removed like flies.
Incidentally a young army on the way up the hill--a few casualties if
I had not stopped. Tornado of rain. A big tree had fallen across the
road this morning--just got under it--had been chopped down on the way
back. Nothing doing since, but frightful weather--good chance to write
in diary--most devilish wind in P.M. Walked over to Bain-Douches in the
evening to see Hartmann's by night by star bombs, but weather too bad
and saw no bombs. The valley of the Rhine so near our feet--impossible
to realize that somewhere between us and that flat vast plain, with
all its villages alight at night, were both lines of trenches--yet the
trees only moved in the wind and the only noise the batteries to the
rear.
_November 14._ Got up about an hour earlier than any one else, looked
out to find trees covered with snow--most splendid. The two Fords
snowed into the background. Built fire for sleeping sluggards. Took
two "birds" and one _brancardier_ down the hill--brakes refused
to work--used reverse successfully--no mules slaughtered or even
touched--oxen in the way, of great service--dropped my men at Moosch.
Blow-out just pulling into Wesserling with two _malades_--let 'em
walk--put on new tube--also blew out--ran into hospital--put on new
tire--no lunch.
_November 15._ Cold and clear, mountains amazingly fine--was orderly.
Tried to move an eight-story _Boche_ stove with Carey from wall to
centre of room where heat might radiate more effectually--weight two
tons--toppled like Tower of Pisa. I held it one second saving Carey's
life after imperilling it first--just got out before the whole damn
shooting-match crashed to floor a mass of broken cast-iron, broken
baked clay, and ashes. With great patience and science utilized lower
stones still standing by fixing top, shortening pipe, etc. Now in
centre of room where one can sit, talk, read, etc. Two vain trips with
Carey to see Burgomaster to report catastrophe.
_November 17._ Snowing to beat hell. All hands to Bussang to evacuate
hospital--minus usual sumptuous repast. Fenton moved rear roller of
his boat in usual dashing style--came around the corner a minute later
with conservative momentum and received from master-mechanic a severe
dissertation on over-speeding, etc., standing on his own ruins as he
spoke. Got late to Krüth--found Douglass there--then eased victuals
into us at the "Joffre"--six eggs in my inner tube. Took three frozen
feet to Bussang. We slipped as skating-rink _camions_ stuck all along
the line--snow packed in hard. 168 ran poorly on way back--slow going
on slippery road--the _col_ magnificent--trees loaded with fresh snow.
_December 3._ To Thoms--enormous amount of heavy artillery on the
road--eternal convoys of mules on way up. Kept getting stuck--finally
got through--found Galatti--terrible weather, road sea of mud, mountain
torrents across it. In the afternoon we each took down a load of
four--difficult driving--so tired when we got to Moosch. We had dinner
there. My carbide worked feebly, so G. followed with electric lights
to show me the way. On steep grade after zigzag I stuck--backed into
bank. G. thought he had _callé_'ed his wheel, but _voiture_ rolled
downhill into the gutter. An hour's hellish pushing, cranking, etc.,
of no avail. Finally I got out a trench spade and dug away bank and he
backed--some _tringlots_ came by and we pushed him up. Next assault
was on steep turn. G., having burned out his electric lights trying
to get out of gutter, went ahead of me with his barnyard lantern on
bowsprit. He missed the road. I slowed up and we rested side by side,
neither daring to lift the toe on the brake. Finally G. backed into a
frightful hole--got out, _callé_'ed my _voiture_, and we went in and
routed up some _charbonniers_ in some log cabins off the road--two
cabins full--got out of bed with most charming grace and pulled the car
out and we finally got back--three hours from Moosch to there--_très_
tired, _tous les deux_.
_December 7._ Hung around expecting to leave early to-morrow--took a
contagious call in Hall's car, mine being _chargée_, to Wesserling,
where at the end of the valley between the mountains three _avions_
were flying around--two French, one German. The sky clear for once and,
lit by sun about to sink over Ballon d'Alsace, was studded with white
shrapnel puffs--while the German puffs were flaked into black clouds.
On the way to Bussang with my contagious passed Hill who yelled, "We
stay."