HOW I GOT INTO THE SERVICE
My first formal call when I got to Paris was upon Ambassador Sharp.
This, however, was not until I had been in the city several days. I had
become acquainted on the ship with a party of Serbians who had been
mining up in Alaska and were now going back to fight the Austrians. They
had some difficulty and delay in arranging their passports, so I
remained with them until they got away.
When at last I called on Mr. Sharp and told him I wanted to go to
Belgium, he asked me why I didn't stay and do relief work in France. He
informed me that I would not be allowed to go to Belgium anyway, as the
German Government had already required the United States to withdraw
many of the consuls. He said my work was needed there in France. Of
course I agreed with him--under the circumstances! Acting upon his
suggestion and with his letter of endorsement I went to Neuilly and
applied for work in the now well-known American Ambulance. I was
accepted almost immediately and then I carefully removed my frock coat
and folded it up. Without delay I received a uniform and equipment and
set to work. The outfit was issued to me free, although men with plenty
of money had to pay for theirs. I remember having my picture taken in
uniform and sending it to my parishioners in the States, who wrote back
and told me of the interest and comment it caused when shown at a church
social.
From the outset we were very busy. I was put on the base or Paris squad
in the beginning, as most all of the new men were, temporarily, and the
very first night I was sent out with a Swiss Frenchman to a depot at
Aubervilliers, which was being used as a receiving hospital. There on
the floor of that great building many hundreds of wounded soldiers lay
mutilated and suffering. Some had their jaws blown off. Others had eyes
or noses gone. I shall never forget that dreary night. There was a cold
rain driving and I was soaked to the skin, but there were many human
beings who suffered worse than I did for their country's sake. When I
saw one man who had been hit by a German dumdum or explosive bullet, I
gritted my teeth. We were kept working all night transporting those
poor fellows in Ford ambulances from the railroad station to the
different hospitals, as the French officers instructed. On each trip we
carried three lying-down cases, or if the wounded could sit up we
conveyed five. For some time thereafter this was our main work.
But after several weeks had passed, the winter began to break and with
it the spring offensive opened up. I was with section two of the
Ambulance, later called section Y, and a very capable man from the
Middle West, was in charge as commander. This section had been stationed
at Beauvais, doing local duty mainly, but occasionally working up toward
the Soissons Sector and on a line directly south of Ypres, afterward
being transferred to the East. The wounded, whom we carried, were little
more than bundles of mud and rain-soaked, blood-stained masses of human
pulp. Most of them were French soldiers, we being with the French
forces, but we did have also quite a number of British Tommies and still
more Belgians. I shall always think of those Belgians as such plucky
fellows. No matter how badly wounded they were, as a rule when we talked
with them, and spoke about getting the "Allemands" or the "Boches" or
the "Kaiser" they would double up their fists and jocularly show fight
by hitting him an imaginary undercut, or they would draw their open
hands across their throats and say, "The Kaiser Kaput!"
At first I liked the Belgians best. One night we carried a Belgian
soldier who had both legs and both arms fractured, and every time we
made a move he must have suffered the tortures of hell, yet never a
sound came from him. In fact their stoicism was remarkable; hardly ever
was there any groaning or complaining.
But as time went on and we became better acquainted with the French
disposition, through intimate contact with French individuals, we liked
them better. At first, I had not cared much for the French. I am ashamed
to say it now, as it was my own lack of appreciation, but when my eyes
at last were opened, my regard for them became high and lasting.
One day after a terrible bombardment near S----, a _blessé_ or wounded
soldier, whom we had carried back to the hospital said, "Comrade, I love
the Americans." I did not reply at once. He continued, "Do you love the
French?" "Yes," I said, "I have come to love them very deeply. At first
I did not know about it but now I do." He lay very still and white, and
after a moment said, "Mutual understanding is the basis of love," and
then he went to sleep. He never woke up.
Many a poor mangled poilu who was just about to "go West" spoke in the
same strain, and I came to realize that the old love for America which
LaFayette had kindled over a century before, still lurked in the heart
of France. America threw off the tyrant's yoke in 1776, and France threw
off the despot's chains in 1789, and thirteen years is a very small
difference in ages between brothers, nationally speaking. Since then
both Republics have made a lot of mistakes and rectified many of them,
but let it be said both have made marvelous records in the development
of democratic government and they are now working and fighting side by
side, comrades in the cause of human liberty.