Plessis Belleville was a great strain. I had to fight the curse of
idleness and it is a losing fight, as with a man who is muscle bound who
tires himself out. Reading, studying French, drawing and walking helped,
but they were a failure through lack of inspiration. No Americans had
been sent to the Front and there was a rumor that we were to be held
there till the United States took us over. Then came the offer of our
commissions as second lieutenants, and so inactive had our minds become
that it upset us to decide. I asked for my release from the French Army
although it is not what I wished to do; yet it seemed best. It means
that I could hardly expect to go to the Front in French service and
might have to wait months for action in United States service. I was in
despair.
The next morning I asked for a _permission_ of twenty-four hours in
Paris. It was refused. I took the eleven o’clock train the next morning
with an officer. I myself was mistaken for an officer. He was good
company. We went and had a Turkish bath. That night I went to the opera.
In the morning my _marraine’s_ grandchildren came up to see me. I held
them in my arms. Children seem to love me. I think children’s love
protects people from wrong and trouble.
That day I found that I could not learn anything from the U. S. Army, so
I went to the opera again in the afternoon, but it was poor. Then I
walked in the crowds and laughed at all who would laugh with me. After a
good dinner, I rode back to Plessis with a pretty girl who was good
company. That night sleep came easily and was sound.
The hoodoo was broken.
The next morning when I awoke, they told me I was to leave for the Front
at eleven o’clock. I was assigned to the French Escadrille S 102, Sector
Postal 160, near Toul. Well, I was busy packing and getting papers
signed and saying good-bye to everyone. So now I was just where I wished
to be.
It is the custom to take two days in Paris without permission on your
way to the Front. My _marraine_ was surprised to see me back so soon. I
spent the day shopping and then we went to see Gaby Deslys last night.
We sat with three American soldiers who had asked us to get their
tickets for them. The show was full of pep and American songs, besides
having some really wonderful dancing. Between acts there was a regular
New York “jazz” band playing in the foyer. It was a jolly way to say
good-bye to Paris.
My _marraine_ had received your letter telling of wiring me money. As I
have received no mail whatever for more than three weeks I knew nothing
of it. I deposited the money in the Guaranty Trust Company of New York,
1 and 3 Boul. des Italiens, Paris. I have a trunk at the Cécilia Hôtel,
12 Ave. Mac-Mahon, Paris. With me I have two duffelbags and a suitcase.
At the “Tech” Club, University Union, 8 Rue Richelieu, Paris, are some
films and key to my trunk. There are some post cards and perhaps a few
odds and ends at my _marraine’s_. Thanks very much for the money; I hope
I shall not have to use it.
Well, I went down to the station, and just naturally took the train for
the Front as if I were going to Milwaukee (if such a city does exist
anymore). There were three American flyers still in the French Army on
the train. Wallman, Hitchcock, and another; the first two have been
doing exceptional work lately. They explained to me how to kill German
flyers, and I am quite anxious to try it now. We passed through some
towns which had been shelled, but they didn’t look so terribly bad.
Arriving at Toul I descended and informed the captain by telephone that
I had arrived. An automobile was there in twenty minutes to take me out.
So I am just where I have been working for eight months to get, namely,
in a French escadrille, at the Front; flying the best French monoplanes,
fighting plane, and with a commission (only a second lieutenant) in the
American Army waiting for me. All I wish for now is to be completely
forgotten by both French and American authorities until I give them
particular reason to remember me; and this may very easily happen (the
forgetting part).
And now I am living in a nice little room, which with the room adjacent,
is shared by four Frenchmen; one of them is an architect of the Ecole
des Beaux-Arts. In the morning chocolate and toast is served to us in
bed, as is the French custom. We rise at eleven and have the day to do
as we wish, provided it is not good flying weather. Breakfast is served
at twelve and supper at seven.
The first day was rainy, but the second day was beautiful, and the
captain, who is a corker, gave me a ride in one of the best machines. It
was only for forty minutes to look about the country, and of course I
did not go near the lines, but I was very lucky to get a ride at all. It
will be some time before I have a machine of my own and can work
regularly, but that is what I look forward to. Yesterday two Boche
planes came over, and the anti-aircraft guns blazed away at them, but
all the good it did was to reassure me in the fear of their guns; when
they hit it is by accident.
Last night I heard booming and stepped out of the back door. The moon
was full and the sky clear. But the whole sky in front of the moon was
mackerel flecked with the puffs of anti-aircraft shells. This was
literally true, the sky was speckled as thickly as with stars. A minute
after I was out a plane passed before the moon, and for thirty seconds I
could see the light reflected on its wing. But the number of shots they
fired at it appalled me. You could see the little burst of flame which
left its puff of smoke. They went off at the rate of seven a second, and
they kept it up steadily for twenty minutes. Get out your pencil. The
air was still and the smoke remained; probably the smoke from the first
shell could be seen to the last (8,400 puffs in twenty minutes and every
puff worth $100—$840,000 without getting the effect). As a matter of
fact, I imagine it was more for the moral effect upon the populace of
the town being bombarded than anything. All night the sullen boom of the
cannon can be heard, one boom a second, every other minute. It sounds
like a heavy person walking on the floor above. We are twenty miles from
the Front and we can get there in thirteen minutes.
Well, I shall probably have some interesting things to write these days,
though it is possible that it will be deader here than anywhere else;
that is sometimes the case.
Today it was cloudy and I went down to the village and made a couple of
sketches of the cathedral which is very fine indeed. There is months of
study in it alone.
Good night all; my love to everyone.
Your son,