THE VANGUARD OF THE A. E. F.
"What class are yuh goin' to git?"
The voice came from a wee island of khaki in a solid mass of horizon
blue. American soldiers! The first I had seen. The American army was to
the French army as were these half dozen doughboys to the station full
of shabby _poilus_. The Gare du Nord has many memories for me, happy and
poignant, but this will always be the most precious. Shall I ever forget
the ticket window around which our boys crowded? We had been saying "How
long, O Lord, how long?" And now they were with us. I moved nearer to
them.
"Why, there's classes--foist, second, and thoid--accordin' to what yuh
pay--see?"
"Aw! What dya mean?"
"Buy fift' and we'll ride foist!"
I volunteered to help them count their change.
"She don't understand and neither do we," said one, hitching a thumb in
the general direction of the girl behind the grating.
"Guess she's got mush in her brain."
"Or feathers!" laughed another.
It was not the class they would ride that was at the bottom of the
trouble. I found that the boys wanted to go to Versailles. They had come
into the Gare du Nord with baggage two days in advance of General
Pershing and his staff. Their officer had given them an afternoon off,
but told them that they were not to wander around Paris. He had
suggested Versailles. This was the only station they knew, and so they
were trying to get to Vers-ales. I took them to the Gare du Montparnasse
and put them on their way. This really was not necessary. I soon
discovered the American soldiers needed no interpreter. They always got
to whatever destination they set their minds upon. But this little scene
at the Gare du Nord was typical of the spirit of our boys during the two
years they were in France. Instead of getting angry, they smiled and
"joshed." In their very nature they had the secret of getting along with
the French.
The afternoon of General Pershing's arrival, the streets around the Gare
du Nord held a crowd the like of which I had not seen in Paris since the
war began. It was the same at the Place de la Concorde. Rooms had been
engaged for the Pershing party at the Hotel Crillon. The ovation at the
Gare du Nord and along the route of the procession was remarkable. When
General Pershing came out on the balcony of the Crillon it was a scene
worthy of the occasion. Paris was not greeting an individual. France was
welcoming America.
For the first time since the beginning of the war Paris celebrated. The
danger that still menaced the city and the bereavements of three years
were forgotten in the frenzy of joy over what everyone believed was the
entry of a decisive factor. Since April sixth insidious defeatist
propaganda had permeated the mass of the people. Seizing upon the
failure of the Champagne offensive in April, which had caused mutinies
in the army that could not be hushed up, German agents--often through
unconscious tools--spread their lies among a discouraged people. America
had declared war, yes, but she intended to limit her intervention to
money and materials. No American army would risk crossing the ocean. The
Americans, like the British, were ready "to fight to the last
Frenchman."
Seeing was believing. Here were the American uniforms. The arrival of
the first American troops, we were assured, would be announced within
the next few days. Perhaps they had already landed at some port in
France? To baffle the submarines we understood that the censorship must
be vigorous. At any rate, an American general and his staff would not be
in Paris without the certainty of an army to follow.
Another source of conviction was afforded us in the fact that on this
day of General Pershing's coming Marshal Joffre made his first public
appearance in Paris. Parisians had never had a chance before to acclaim
the victor of the Marne.
The Americans set up their headquarters in two small _hôtels_ at the end
of the Rue de Constantine, opposite the Invalides. Immediately the boys
of the headquarters detachment marked out a diamond on the Esplanade des
Invalides, and passers-by had to learn to dodge base-balls. The police
did not interfere. Nothing was too good for the Americans. All Paris
flocked to see for themselves the khaki uniforms and to learn the
mysteries of our national game. There was always a crowd around the door
of General Pershing's home in the Rue de Varenne.
The events of the next few weeks will always seem like a dream to me.
The scene of the drama that has influenced so profoundly the history of
the world was shifted from Paris. I went to Saint-Nazaire to see our
boys land and later to their first training-camp in the country of
Jeanne d'Arc. Many of them did not see Paris. Their idea of France was a
long journey of days and nights in freight-cars, with interminable
stops, and ending in small villages where they met rain and mud. But a
fortunate battalion of the First Division had the honor of being the
vanguard of the A. E. F. in Paris.
[Illustration: In an Old Quarter]
They were lodged in the Caserne de Reuilly. On the Fourth of July,
declared a national holiday by grateful France, they paraded through the
streets of our city. We were to become accustomed to American soldiers
in Paris. But these first boys made a unique impression. The moment
of their coming was psychological. Paris never needed encouragement
more.
After this excitement we had another long and anxious wait of eight
months. The Americans came each week, but in dribbles. Between
Gondrecourt and the three ports of Saint-Nazaire, Bordeaux and Brest, it
was necessary to construct the lines of communication while a great army
in America was being gathered and trained. The defeatist propaganda
started up again, the word was spread that the Americans were coming too
slowly and that in France they were to be seen everywhere but at the
front. Were not the French still holding the lines against odds and
giving their lives, while the Americans were in safety? Despite the fact
that General Pershing moved G. H. Q. from Paris to Chaumont in the
Haute-Marne, the number of American soldiers in Paris, through the
necessities of the S. O. S. increased rapidly. The Hotel Mediterranée,
near the Gare de Lyon, was the first large building taken over. Then the
Elysée-Palace Hotel on the Avenue des Champs-Elysées was chartered. The
American flag soon appeared over barracks, garages and other buildings
in all parts of the city. You could go nowhere without seeing the
American uniform, and our automobiles learned to drive as rapidly as the
French. We got accustomed to hearing English spoken on the streets. The
Red Cross, the Y.M.C.A., the Knights of Columbus, and the Jewish
Welfare Board, established hotels and restaurants and reading-rooms and
leased theatres. Our American Ambulance at Neuilly, taken over by the
army, became only one of a number of hospitals.
Not until the spring offensive of the next year were the Americans able
to come in large numbers. Then suddenly a single month brought as many
as the nine preceding months. We had our half million, our million, our
two millions.
The faith of the French in us revived with Cantigny and Château-Thierry.
I am ahead of my chronology. But the men who first fell under the
American flag were those who marched through the streets of Paris, on
July Fourth, 1917. On parade they gave us hope. Fighting they gave us
certitude of victory.
1918