Produced by Brian Coe, David King, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This
book was produced from images made available by the
HathiTrust Digital Library.)
Kelly of the Foreign Legion
[Illustration: Russell A. Kelly]
Kelly Of The Foreign Legion
Letters Of Légionnaire Russell A. Kelly
To Which Is Added An Historical Sketch
Of The Foreign Legion
New York
Mitchell Kennerley
1917
_Dedicated to the memory of that intrepid and valiant Frenchman,
whose bravery, love of liberty, generosity, and friendship with
Washington, made Americans, for all time, his grateful and devoted
admirers--_
LE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE
CONTENTS
Preface xi
I. Voyage to Bordeaux--Enlistment 1
II. Training at Depot de Lyon 13
III. Off to the Front 33
IV. In the First Line Trenches 52
V. Removed to the Arras Secteur 78
VI. Battle of Artois; At La Targette and Neuville
St. Vaast 85
VII. To the Rear for Recruiting 92
VIII. Supplementary--Battle of
Artois--Souchez--Hill No. 119 104
IX. Epilogue 120
X. La Légion Étrangère 131
ILLUSTRATIONS
Russell A. Kelly _Frontispiece_
Official Postal Card for Use of Soldiers 34
French Houses Burned by Germans 60
Kniffin Yates Rockwell 68
John Earl Fike 124
PREFACE
The first seven chapters of this book are letters received from Russell
A. Kelly, age 21, volunteer in the _Légion étrangère_. The letters, many
of which were published in the _New York Evening Sun_, were sent to his
parents in New York and have been retained in exactly their original
form except for the omission of strictly personal matters.
The last communication from him was a military post card mailed June
15th, 1915. After the severe engagement around Souchez on June 16th in
which the Second _Regiment de Marche_ of the First Regiment of the
Legion suffered severely, he was officially recorded by the French
Minister of War as “missing,” with the added statement that his name
would be carried on the list of missing until a search could be made in
the internment camps of Germany.
Exhaustive efforts have been made to locate him. All information that
has been obtained as to his fate is given in Chapter IX.
When it was learned in New York that he had enlisted, he was informed
that Germany had, prior to the war, objected to the Foreign Legion as a
military body, and had stated that Légionnaires who were not French
citizens would be considered as non-combatants and not entitled to the
rights of the other soldiers of the French army.
He was accordingly advised that in the event of his capture to give no
information as to his citizenship; but to communicate with Ambassador
Gerard. He answered that he would follow those instructions.
Chapter 2534 of the laws passed by Congress March 2nd, 1907, makes the
taking of an oath of allegiance to a foreign king or state an act of
expatriation for an American citizen. But as Russell did not and was not
required to take an oath of allegiance to France, he continued, after
enlistment, to be a citizen of the United States of America.
Acknowledgment is made to the _New York Evening Sun_ for permission to
print those letters which appeared in that paper.
J. E. K.
_New York, May, 1917._
I
VOYAGE TO BORDEAUX--ENLISTMENT
_Bordeaux, France,
36 Rue Notre Dame,
Wednesday, Nov. 25, 1914._
On Election Day, Tuesday November 3rd, 1914, we left New York, from the
South Brooklyn basin, on “the good ship” _Orcadian_ with a cargo of six
hundred and fifty horses for the use of the French army. There were
twenty-five men, including my chum Larney and myself, who had not
previously worked on ships nor around horses, and eight experienced
horsemen. We twenty-five consisted of twelve Englishmen, seven Italians,
two Greeks, one Spaniard, and three Americans, the third being a negro.
The first day the ship was out the English and Italians started to
fight, and this divided the party into two messes; at every meal
thereafter there were hostilities. The third day out we ran into very
rough weather, which continued during the following day: the vessel
rolled and pitched in a horrible fashion, and most of us suffered
severely from sea sickness.
The food furnished to us was very poor. The first nine meals consisted
of Irish stew, and I believe it was made on the first day and thereafter
heated at meal time.
We went _en masse_ to the chief steward and demanded better food; there
was a change, but it was no better, it was only different.
The horses were fed twice a day, the first time in the morning from
half-past five to eight o’clock. We then had breakfast followed by
hoisting feed from the hold, cleaning the stalls and similar duties, and
then dinner. At three in the afternoon we gave the horses their second
feeding, which took until nearly six o’clock when we had supper.
In rough weather life on the boat was fierce. Watering the horses as the
boat rolled usually resulted in much of the water getting on the men,
and the deck was always wet and slippery.
A cabin meant to hold twelve seamen held thirty-three cattlemen, so
conditions can be realized. The air was foul; in fact the whole ship was
foul. During the last week I slept in the lowest deck on the hay. We
could not eat the food furnished, and even had it been palatable, it
lacked quantity, so my appetite was not appeased once during the trip. I
lost about fifteen pounds during the voyage. I could wash only twice and
shave once during the trip. English warships convoyed us for the entire
voyage, yet there was much uneasiness among the men. We lost eighteen
horses en route.
On November 19th we were in that part of the Atlantic called the Bay of
Biscay, and entering the broad Gironde river proceeded up it for about
thirty miles to Pauillac, off which we laid two days, and then went up
the river another thirty miles to Bordeaux where we docked at seven in
the morning of Saturday November 21st. It was snowing and the city did
not seem real--it looked so quaint and picturesque.
At ten o’clock we were dressed and went ashore and were stopped on the
wharf by a Customs official who looked in only one valise and that was
for tobacco and matches. The party then proceeded to a wine shop, where
some bought wine, that they said was good, for fifteen centimes a glass.
We soon learned that this was only three cents of American money.
We left our hand baggage at this shop and went to the British consul,
from whom we received our discharge. We then returned for the bags and
sought lodgings, which we obtained on Rue Notre Dame.
Everything we see in the city is different from anything my chum Larney
or I have seen in America: the sidewalks and roadways are very narrow;
the buildings quaint in appearance and generally only two stories in
height.
We had a good supper although the portions served were small, but, as is
usual, they gave three kinds of meat at the meal. Coffee was served in a
small bowl with heated milk, there being more milk than coffee. For
dessert nuts were served. The rooms were without heat, and for light a
small torch was used.
On Sunday Larney and I with the two Greeks from the ship, went around
town, one of the Greeks being the only member who could speak French.
Monday morning the four of us found the station for recruiting for the
army and made application to join the Foreign Legion. The officers were
agreeable but evinced no desire to urge us to enlist, and they informed
us of an old rule in the Legion, that an applicant will not be examined
or accepted until the day following his application. So we returned
Tuesday morning at eight o’clock and took the physical examination,
which was very thorough and the four of us were accepted.
Twenty other men who meant to join the regular army were examined at the
same time, six of whom were rejected, some solely on account of poor
teeth.
At five o’clock in the afternoon of Tuesday, November 24th, 1914, we
signed articles which made us soldiers in the Army of the Republic of
France, in the division _la Légion étrangère_, for service during the
war.
We were not asked to take any oath of allegiance to France, nor to
renounce our allegiance to the United States; all that was required of
us was to be over eighteen years of age and to pass the doctor.
We were given five francs (one dollar) as spending money, and a railroad
ticket to Lyon, where one of the depots of the Foreign Legion is
located. It is to be our training station for four or five months, they
say, before we can go to the front. No escort was furnished or effort
made to see that we reported at Lyon and we learned it was the custom
even before the war to trust recruits for the Legion to reach the depot
of their own accord.
We had time to take a further look around Bordeaux. We met soldiers in
large numbers everywhere, and found they were of the same belief as the
people generally—that the Germans would be defeated in two months. All
theatres were closed except some moving picture shows, the receipts from
them were given to the Red Cross fund.
_Lyon,
December 2, 1914._
We left Bordeaux Wednesday night at nine o’clock, riding second class.
The cars are small and divided into compartments, each holding eight
persons. Most of the passengers were soldiers returning to the front. It
was difficult to sleep as the train stopped every half hour and the
people getting off and on made considerable noise.
Thursday was a clear day, and the bright sunlight enabled us to enjoy
the magnificent scenery. The train was climbing mountains and going at a
moderate pace. The construction of this railroad was a great engineering
feat. One minute we would be in a tunnel, then suddenly emerge onto a
frail bridge over a magnificent valley.
Nearly all the land in sight was under cultivation, it being divided
into small plots of about half an acre each. These plots were enclosed
by stone walls three feet high and two feet thick and the walls extended
as far as the eye could see. The people were all very friendly but the
only one of our party who could talk to them was our Greek interpreter.
From our hotel in Bordeaux we brought a roast chicken, bread and wine,
which we ate at noon. The people here roast a chicken with its head on.
We took the wine not because we were wine drinkers, but because the
landlord put it in as a regular part of every lunch.
This is a great country for churches; from the car window we saw many
that were nearly as imposing as cathedrals, and some had only ten or
fifteen cottages around them.
We arrived at Lyon at one in the afternoon and went direct to the depot
or station of the Legion.
We were temporarily assigned to the Fifth company of the Premier or
First regiment. Our barrack was a school house before the war. We were
located in a room about twenty feet wide and of the same length, the
ceiling being about ten feet high. Maps and cards were still on the
walls, and the desks and benches were piled in a corner.
When we arrived there were eight men in the room and newcomers continued
to come until we had twenty-five men in the room. Each man was given a
straw mattress, a pillow and two blankets.
We found nearly every nationality represented in this Foreign Legion;
there were, however, no Chinese nor Japanese.
They have a system, when furnishing the men’s outfit, that enables a man
to realize some money. Each man is given a complete outfit but should he
have some articles of clothing that could be substituted for the
military ones he is allowed a fair price for them and does not get
equivalent articles from the quartermaster. For example, I had two
winter union suits and a heavy sweater for which I received seventeen
francs (three dollars and thirty-five cents) and got no underclothes
from the army. One man received ninety francs (seventeen dollars and a
half) that way.
We got a complete outfit and Larney and I had our pictures taken. I
enclose one of mine.
By looking closely at the cap in the picture it will be seen that it has
a cover on it. The cap is made of red cloth, but that color being too
conspicuous a blue linen cover is worn over it. The coat is blue and
reaches to the knees; it is buttoned back to allow free movement. The
trousers are bright red, but were found to be such a good target at the
beginning of the war, that a sort of blue overall is issued at the front
to hide the red trousers. Patent leather puttees are generally worn, but
in this photo I wear Douglas shoes. The regulation ones are very heavy;
by actual count each shoe has one hundred and sixty-two hobs in the
sole, which is half an inch thick. I never thought I would put my feet
into things like them, much less wear them.
A broad band will be noticed around my waist. This is of blue linen and
is fifteen feet long. It is the positive insignia of our Legion, and is
not worn by any other division of the French army. A broad leather belt
with a brass buckle supports the bayonet, the hilt of which is visible
at my left side. This is a murderous weapon, and I do not blame the
Germans for being afraid of it. It is about a foot and nine inches long
and comes to a needle point. It has four grooves, and each edge is a
quarter inch deep and one-eighth inch wide at the hilt. It is half an
inch in diameter at the hilt. The gun has an eight shell chamber and one
shell in the barrel; it is six inches longer than the present U. S. army
gun. With bayonet attached it is a formidable weapon. This is our dress
uniform, the one we appear in when on the street. The fatigue uniform
has a cap or _beret_ which is comfortable and handy, a short blouse,
dark blue, no coat, the same pants and puttees. The blue band insignia
we always wear.
II
TRAINING AT DEPOT DE LYON
_Lyon,
December 12, 1914._
Reveille sounds at half-past five in the morning; we are then served
with coffee, followed by drill till half-past ten when we have dinner,
consisting of rich soup, meat, potatoes, etc. We get no sweets
whatsoever. After dinner we peel potatoes, and after that drill till
half-past four, at which time we have supper, there being the same bill
of fare as dinner. We are free from five-thirty until nine, when we have
inspection and then sleep. It is hard to get accustomed to the drill as
the commands are in French, and scarcely any of the soldiers understand
that language, even slightly.
Last Sunday we walked through the city in the company of an Englishman
who came from Ceylon to enlist. He is a “younger son” and spends money
lavishly when he has it. At present he is not in funds.
To the east of Lyon is a range of mountains, and on one of the highest
mountains is a church. We visited it while military service was being
held and the edifice was crowded. It has the handsomest and most costly
interior decorations of any church I have ever seen. It is called the
Chapelle de Notre Dame de Fourvière.
The view from the heights was magnificent. Lyon is in a valley and has
two rivers running through it very swiftly. They say that Mt. Blanc, in
Switzerland, can be seen from this church on a clear day. We saw many
snow-capped mountains in the distance, but as the day was overcast we
could not see the main attraction.
Last Monday we were transferred to the 2nd company of the same First
_Régiment étrangère_. This is to be our permanent company and it is in
another barracks. The day before we reached Lyon two Americans arrived
from La Rochelle where they had enlisted. One had seen service in the
Philippines, in the cavalry, while the other had served in the navy. So
we were not so lonely after all.
When we reached the new barracks we found four more Americans, one of
whom had been in the army, another in the navy; one was a doctor and the
other a lawyer. The doctor is forty-nine years old; he came over at the
beginning of the war to join the Red Cross. The ex-army man fought in
the insurrection in Chili, and served in Mexico under Villa and he works
a machine gun. He has since left us for the front.
These new barracks are located in a new school house, not quite
completed. Our room is about ninety feet long and thirty feet wide; it
has a row of eight windows on each side, and accommodates one hundred
men.
At intervals of about a week volunteers who desire to go to the front
are called for from the different companies. Of course we volunteered,
but were refused because there is a severe form of typhoid in the
trenches which, it is said, kills a man in four hours. On this account
nobody is allowed to go until he has been inoculated four times; we had
not been inoculated at all. The volunteers are put in a special company
and drilled separately. Larney and I with the three other Americans (the
doctor not included) are in this company.
This Legion is the most cosmopolitan organization in the world. In one
corner of the room you will hear Greek spoken, the next group will be
speaking Spanish, then German spoken by the Swiss, Polish from another
corner and English from our crowd.
I saw a fight through interpreters. A Greek got into an unintelligible
argument with a Pole and as neither could speak the other’s language nor
“parly” French, their fellow countrymen were called, and they being
slightly acquainted with French, that was the language resorted to. When
all arrangements were completed the combatants proceeded to pommel each
other, and before long the interpreters were also engaged, and it was a
very lively party when the officers arrived. There are many such
happenings and they afford much amusement.
We have had many sham battles and considerable rifle practice. I now,
five weeks after reaching barracks, make an average of four hits out of
eight at a target of a man, life size, at two hundred and fifty meters
(298 yards). They call that fair shooting for the time in practice.
The manual of arms is very different from that of the Virginia Military
Institute, but the training I received there comes in handy. I cannot
understand the commands but generally know what to expect.
All the men in our section have the same limited knowledge of French,
but they are able to understand the orders. The weather is warm; an
overcoat is only necessary at night.
_Lyon,
January 17, 1915._
I miss sweets very much. Many times I have longed for a piece of pie, in
fact for a whole pie, but they do not know what pie is over here. The
pastry in the shops is wonderfully light but ridiculously expensive, and
our pay of one cent a day does not permit investing in it. Still we have
indulged several times, but it seemed like eating samples. I certainly
miss the sweets.
I also missed the Thanksgiving Day dinner; we had nothing extra that
day, so while eating mine I thought of the folks at home and the good
things they were enjoying. But I missed the Christmas dinner most; we
received no extra course here, so I contented myself with
philosophizing, and speculating on the next Christmas dinner. Larney
said he will have his in Berlin, but I prefer mine at _HOME_.
We had the first fall of snow in Lyon this morning. It lasted about two
minutes. Instead of cold and snow they have a rainy winter. There have
not been two successive days without showers since I arrived in France.
Trolley cars, with overhead wires, are used in Lyon and they are run
with a trailer. There are many kinds; some are divided into three
compartments, one-third of the car being devoted to standing room, and
the other two divisions being for first and second classes. I have seen
a car pass with the second class packed as closely as they are in the
New York Subway, while the first class was empty. The first class fare
is double that of the second.
The car is started by a signal from a small horn, and the conductor
gives a receipt as he collects the fare. Double deck trolleys have been
in use here for years.
I tried to learn the location at the front of the First _Régiment
étrangère_, but nobody knows. There were six Americans here and two have
left for the front. We received letters from them but they were not
allowed to give their location and the envelopes had a number in place
of the name of the post office. Post offices near the front are no
longer named; they are numbered, and not in consecutive order, for
_Secteur Postal_ 6 adjoins 109. Soldier’s letters are sent free in
France. Letters of prisoners of war are forwarded free (when they are
forwarded) through all countries, including the neutrals who are in the
postal union.
We learned that it is very cold where the First Regiment is and that an
Italian who left here with the two Americans was given eight days in
prison for eating his reserve rations.
A shipment of volunteers from our company left for the front three weeks
ago and last week we were assembled and a report read stating that one
of the men (giving his name) was executed, having been caught in the act
of deserting. Considering these incidents, they must be near the front.
We called at the American Consulate and found the Vice Consul in charge.
He had served in the Philippines during the war. He gave us New York
newspapers and treated us with great kindness. While there an American
doctor came in, who was disgusted with travelling facilities. His
passport had his photograph attached. The paper was nearly covered with
official stamps and he came to the Consul to get the U. S. stamp on
while there was still room, as every Tom, Dick and Harry, he said, was
desirous of spoiling the paper. When he saw Larney and I and learned we
were from New York he became enthusiastic and gave ten francs to each of
us. Another American gentleman and his wife came to the barracks one
evening with the Vice Consul, and presented each of us with a package
containing pipe, cigarettes, tobacco and a neck wrapper. We fully
appreciated their acts. The gentleman had given his auto to the Red
Cross and he drives it.
Great changes are taking place here. All the Légionnaries who did not
want to fight the Germans were shipped to Algiers. Another call for
volunteers was made to all the companies. Those who did not volunteer
were sent to Valbonne, a town about twenty miles off. There are a great
many men there and they will remain, it is reported, until spring.
We cannot find out when we leave for the front, but all of us hope that
it will be soon.
On December 31st I was inoculated for the third time against typhoid; it
was the most severe of the four inoculations. We were treated at three
p. m. and two hours after I thought I would die. I was sick all of the
next day; at first I was troubled by a severe headache, followed by
chills and fever. The fourth and last inoculation had no effect at all.
It may be interesting to describe how they inoculate. First the doctor,
who is called in French, _le médecin_, asks you about the condition of
your throat, chest and bowels. If they are O. K. he takes the flesh on
the shoulder blade (he used my left four times, the right he rarely
uses, and only then toward the finish) between the thumb and forefinger
of his left hand, making a ridge of the flesh. The hypodermic needle is
forced into the flesh and it felt to me as though it was pushed just
under the skin. The fluid is then injected; it leaves a small lump on
the blade until it begins to work on the system. The quantity of serum
is gradually increased from the first treatment; I should judge the
first time about a tablespoonful was used. Thank Heaven it is over. I am
ready to leave at a moment’s notice now.
Larney likes the life. He was issued a good overcoat, but was made to
exchange it with a man going to the front. He did not like the first
overcoat but was in raptures over the exchange.
When we first reached Lyon the city was alive with soldiers and it was
surprising to note the great number of different uniforms the French
army has. Of late, however, the diminishing number of soldiers on the
streets is apparent. Most of the men were sent to Valbonne or the front.
Everybody in Lyon seems to be working for the army. Contracts are given
to individual families for uniforms and wherever you go women and men
are seen carrying military clothing for the soldiers, while wagons
loaded with army clothes are very numerous.
All automobile works and machine shops, even the smallest, are busily
engaged manufacturing shells and the arsenals are working two shifts of
men, one night and one day.
It seems to me that our army is feeling a growing scarcity of rifles, as
they are now issuing to recruits an old model rifle of fifty calibre. It
is a single shot affair of 1867 model; rather awkward and crude. I have
seen large motor trucks returning from the front laden down with rifles
picked up from the battle fields. After an overhauling the guns will be
used again.
I am struck very forcibly with the great economy of the French. We did
fatigue the other day and it consisted of washing or rather scrubbing
with brush and water the shoes returned from the front. I believe the
bodies are stripped of what can be used again.
Wood is scarce over here; it must cost more than concrete. Concrete
workers are very expert and some finishing work I saw by them was
remarkable. These workmen, however, would be useless in the States, as
it takes them too long to construct a building.
Everything is saved to the smallest item: even pig skins are saved to
grease with. They are sold tied up in neat little rolls, and, I believe,
sold by weight. Everything is sold by weight, even bread, which is
excellent; no bread in the States can equal it.
Last Sunday while we were walking along the street a Frenchman stopped
and talked to us in English. He had spent seven years in London. He was
very pleasant and treated us royally and escorted us back to barracks.
He invited us to call on him.
A party of four of us, three Americans and a Spaniard, a few nights ago
had a night march, with manœuvres to take a fort. The sergeant in
command was a Frenchman with no knowledge of any language except the
French, so he had great difficulty in explaining the tactics to us. When
we returned to barracks we were given hot wine flavored with lemon; it
was good. To-morrow morning we start at three o’clock for a long hike.
They believe in work here.
_Lyon,
January 23, 1915._
We continue drilling hard; had a twenty-five mile hike the other day.
Started at half-past six in the morning and returned at six in the
afternoon. We cooked our dinner and it certainly was fine. We had wine,
meat, fried potatoes, cheese, bread and coffee. If we get such meals at
the front we will be well satisfied.
We are having night marches frequently, and always get hot wine when we
return.
Our section was put on fire duty Sunday afternoon. At this duty we
simply stack arms in the court-yard and wait around. In case of a fire
in the city we are to keep the crowd back. I think the main object of
fire duty is to keep the men in barracks.
When we arrived in Lyon I purchased an English-French grammar but have
had very little time to study and the light in the barracks at night is
too poor to read by. But I will do the best I can to learn as much
French as possible.
The censor does not seem to interfere with our mail; none of the letters
I received has been tampered with.
We get all newspapers, magazines and other printed matter, without any
attempt by the censor to examine them.
Our squad contains sixteen men and is divided into two rooms. In my room
are two Americans (the Greek-American sailor is with me), two Italians,
one German-Swiss, who is an excellent soldier, two Spaniards and an
Arab. One of the Spaniards has been in prison twice and is now serving
his third term, fifteen days this time. One of the Italians is a good
soldier; the other is guilty of an unpardonable sin, he snores. He wakes
us every night; last night the sailor threw a shoe at him; when it
struck him he woke with a jump, and was going to take the sailor’s life,
but his music (?) had so provoked us that we were only waiting for an
excuse to rend him limb from limb, so he wisely got under the covers.
All in all we have a pretty good room.
It is comical when it comes to conversation. One day we talk English,
the next Spanish, the next Italian, but we all agree Divine Wisdom was
absent when the Arabic language was constructed. When an Arab talks it
sounds as though he was choking to death. The language consists of spits
and coughs, and at regular intervals a sneeze is employed to give the
proper accent.
Larney is in the next room with John Smith (the fourth American), three
Spaniards, a Swiss corporal, a Russian and a Greek. These three
Spaniards are brothers and inseparable; the youngest is about
thirty-five years old. They came from Argentina, having served in the
artillery there; they are three excellent men. They were sent by the
French consul at Argentina.
One of the Greeks who came over on the steamer with us and enlisted at
Bordeaux, has been reformed to-day, January 26th, and sent back to
Bordeaux as he has consumption. This news completely nonplussed me as at
the physical examination he showed up the best of us. He was well
muscled and looked the picture of a trained athlete. He intends to go to
Cape Town, South Africa, where he has a relative. He is a good-hearted
chap and I am sorry for him.
_Lyon,
January 30, 1915._
The number of Légionnaries training in Lyon has been steadily diminished
until only one hundred remain. There are a great many Frenchmen,
however, training in Lyon. At Valbonne, twenty miles from here, there
are about thirty thousand troops training, among them several companies
of the Legion.
Nearly all the public buildings are used as hospitals, while the schools
have been converted into barracks.
The people are very pleasant and will go a great distance out of their
way to set a stranger in the right direction. They are light eaters;
bread, wine and cheese are their mainstays. A large amount of chocolate
is eaten; it is not as good as our milk chocolate.
The moving picture shows in Lyon are free for soldiers. The people like
the western cowboy pieces. I saw a string of six push-carts with
advertisements of films in which John Bunny appeared.
We are paid one sou, being the equivalent of one cent, a day and pay-day
every tenth day. Our dissipation on half a franc can be readily
pictured. But we are furnished everything we need, and there are no
charges here.
Market days are Tuesdays and Fridays, and on those days most of the
public squares are thrown open to the farmers who come to town with
long, narrow, two-wheeled carts, drawn by everything from a dog to a
horse. Small donkeys, about three feet high, are numerous. One
frequently sees a dog harnessed with a donkey; I saw an old woman teamed
with a dog drawing a fruit cart. There are some fine draught horses; the
animals work tandem, and the driver walks.
Four-wheeled carts are very scarce. Auto-trucks are used for
transportation; many are of the large, heavy type, but have steel tires.
Pleasure cars are numerous. The majority have been taken for military
purposes. They are all built low and make considerable noise.
I have not as yet seen many asphalt covered streets. Most of them are
paved with stone blocks, while in a great number of streets cobble
stones are used. Save in the main streets, the sidewalks are narrow. As
a rule the streets are well lighted at night. A great many places of
business have signs “English spoken,” but we have not yet come across
one store wherein English _was_ spoken. The stores are open on Sundays.
Monday is the poorest business day in the week.
The children have school, if soldiers are not using the building, from
nine to noon, and from two to four p.m. School is in session Saturdays
but closed Thursdays.
III
OFF TO THE FRONT
_Lyon,
February 5, 1915._
At last the order we have so anxiously awaited has come; we leave early
tomorrow morning, February 6th, for the front.
We were given a complete outfit, which consisted of one suit of
underclothes, two pairs of socks, a white cotton sleeping hat, two pairs
of shoes, a neck muffler and a jacket which resembles a smoking jacket.
These jackets are all the same size, which is small, so that a big
fellow has a hard time getting into one. There is no warmth in them, so
most of the fellows did not bother to pack them. I left mine with the
underclothes in Lyon, not having room in the sack for them. We got blue
overalls to go over the red pants. We also got a pair of mittens, but
they are not much good.
We were given a loaf of bread, one can of sardines, one and a half cans
of fish paste, a chunk of cheese and some chocolate for rations. As a
reserve ration we got two cans of bully beef, hard tack, salt, pepper,
tea, coffee and sugar.
We also got one hundred and twenty rounds of ammunition. We packed a
blanket, and half of a shelter tent with poles. The complete pack
weighed nearly seventy pounds; it was very heavy.
The colonel inspected us thoroughly, and we passed after close scrutiny.
The weather is mild and like summer.
_Somewhere in France,
February 14, 1915._
We left barracks Saturday morning, February 6th, in a pouring rain, and
our train left Lyon at ten o’clock.
We arrived at Noisy-le-Sec, which is on the eastern outskirts of Paris
and about two hundred miles north of Lyon, at ten o’clock Sunday
morning. We remained until ten o’clock in the evening and then proceeded
to our railroad destination which was about seventy miles to the
northeast of Paris, and from there we had about twenty kilometres
(twelve and a half miles) to march to this town where we are now
located.
[Illustration: Official Postal Card for Use of Soldiers]
Before reaching Noisy-le-Sec we passed a trainload of soldiers from
India. It was a husky outfit.
There was a complete Company of us, about two hundred and fifty. When we
reached here our Section was located in the loft of a barn. It was cold
in our quarters as we had no stove and the weather was cold and rainy.
Upon reaching this place, the reserve rations given to us at Lyons were
collected.
We are all well, and well treated and fed. We have coffee three times a
day; wine once.
We were divided according to nationalities. Our Section contained,
besides Americans, Belgians, Swedes, Roumanians, Italians, English and a
pure-blooded Egyptian, who is very dark.
This town is the quaintest place I have seen; it has no sidewalks, and
there was no idea of regularity when it was laid out. There are only
about six stores, and I should judge the place contains about three
hundred people. The butcher comes through here twice a week with his
stock of trade in a wagon. The principal industry around here is grape
growing; farming is a side issue.
A short distance from the railroad station there is a small river very
near the canal. Over the canal were once two bridges now both destroyed,
so we marched over temporary ones. This was the first sign of
destruction I have seen since I reached France. They say the French
destroyed these bridges.
We drill here and the Colonel manœuvred us the other day; he was well
satisfied with us. There is a high mountain range between us and the
firing line and from sunrise until night we can hear the rumble of
cannon; it sounds like distant thunder.
The two Americans who left us in Lyon have spent three weeks in the
trenches. We met them here during their rest which lasts eight days.
They have returned to the trenches. The loss of life in the trenches has
been reduced to a minimum. There is a constant rifle and cannon fire,
but little damage is done while the men remain in the trenches.
I miss all of my folks and often think of New York. I am carrying a
talisman in the form of a Yale key which belongs to the front door of
our apartment. I have become attached to it and would feel its loss
keenly. On the brace supporting the teeth is the word “Security.” A
person with a lively imagination might find some hidden meaning in this.
Our sailor Pavelka formerly entertained us every night with tales of his
trip on the good ship _Dirigo_ from Seattle to England via Cape Horn.
Jack London made the same voyage on its previous trip. It took our
sailor one hundred and fifty-nine days to make the trip. After supper
when stories are being exchanged he usually starts with, “Now, fellows,
when I was on the _Dirigo_ off——” He only gets that far now, because,
like most sailors, he is very voluble and his tales of the sea have
become monotonous. However, we are a very congenial quartette and get
along well together.
Dad says he has a complete map of France, giving small villages, but we
are not allowed to tell our location.
Dad was always good at puzzles: does he remember this one?
Boston
Orleans
Utopia
Zion
Yapank ... Does he get me?[1]
Footnote 1:
The name of the place indicated by this puzzle is, Bouzy.
We take long marches. The roads are excellent and have a complete system
of direction signs. Just after we started on one of these hikes I saw a
sign reading “Rheims 24 Kilometres.” As a kilometre is five-eighths of a
mile, this was the equivalent of fifteen miles.
_Somewhere in France (Bouzy),
February 28, 1915._
Things are about the same here; the weather is mild and we are having
less rain. Ploughing is almost finished and planting will soon begin.
From the outskirts of this place to the summit of the mountain (about
three miles) the ground rises in a gentle slope which is completely
covered by vineyards. It is a great wine country and from the heights a
wonderful view is obtained of this extensive and fertile valley.
If Mr. Shortt’s son is anxious to join the war, he can do so easily. I
would advise him to hurry up; by that I do not mean that the war will
soon be over; I know absolutely nothing about that. If he is not ready
to secure passage immediately, he can slip over on a horse boat, as I
learn they are still importing horses.
It is a matter of choice which Regiment he joins, the First or Second.
The Second contains the most Americans and it recruits through Paris; my
Regiment recruits through the southern ports.
I would strongly advise him to lose no time, but sail immediately. It
makes no difference whether he knows French or not. I have often told
you of the great percentage here who do not know the language. Let him
bring as much money as he cares to, because one cannot do or see much on
the salary they pay here of one cent a day. Former military training is
not necessary, but on the other hand if he has any glaring physical
defects, he will not be accepted. I was surprised at the rigidity with
which the examination was conducted.
He should bring two suits of good woollen underclothes and about half a
dozen pairs of thick woollen socks. If he is going to bring a shaving
set it should be as small and compact as possible. His comb and brush
should be small and he should bring a small mirror. He should not bring
many other clothes as they will be useless when he gets into a uniform.
The army does not furnish a storeroom, so I put mine in the Municipal
Pawn Shop in Lyon. They allow a very small loan, but it is conducted by
the government and is used by many for storage of silver and other
valuables. Would advise him to bring a tooth brush in some kind of a
stiff cover to protect the bristles.
Above all, impress him that he is not going to be a tourist. He carries
everything on his back and believe me, after an entire day of hiking,
every ounce counts. The complete pack with cartridges, rations, etc.,
weighs nearly seventy pounds, so there is absolutely no room for junk. I
would advise him to bring some sort of a leather portfolio (not too big)
to fit into his inside coat pocket to carry personal papers, etc. He
need not worry about his outfit of clothes; the Army attends to that.
Show him in a philosophical way that he had better come. He has a leave
from college, so he cannot lose anything by coming. On the other hand he
will gain a lot of knowledge of the country, etc., and at his age it
should almost be compulsory. I tell you candidly, if I was in his shoes
I would get over here if I had to ship on a cattle boat. Well, here’s
luck to him and I hope to see him soon.[2]
Footnote 2:
The young man referred to is Allan Shortt, son of Hon. William Allaire
Shortt of Staten Island, New York. He subsequently joined the
Fifty-ninth Battalion, Canadians, was attached to the machine gun
section, and became a lieutenant. He was missing following an
engagement December 10th, 1916, on the front in France: he is now a
prisoner.
_Somewhere in France (Bouzy),
March 4, 1915._
I received the army hand-book to-day. These books are given to each
soldier and contain an identification, list of crimes, penalties, etc.,
and information about the bearer. In case anything should happen to me,
I give the following information from the book. It will simplify the
searching of my records.
RUSSELL KELLY
ETAT CIVIL
Né le—13 Juin 1893.
á- New York.
Canton d- “ ”
Départément d- New York.
Residant á- Bordeaux.
Départément d- Gironde.
Profession d- Sans.
Fils de-
et de-
Domicilies á- Sans.
Canton d- “
Départément d- ”
Signalement.
Cheveux- Blonde.
Yeux- gris bleu.
Front-
Nez- rectiligne.
Visage- ovale.
Poids- 60 Kilos.
Taille- 1 mtr-75 centimetres.
Ou Engagé, Volontaire; durée guerre, le 24 n’bre 1914,
á Bordeaux, départément de Gironde.
Numéro de la Liste Mutrieule-997.
Translation.
RUSSELL KELLY.
SOCIAL STATE
Born the 13 June 1893,
at New York.
County of “ ”
Department of New York.
Resident at Bordeaux.
Department of Gironde.
Profession of—without.
Son of
and of
Dwelling at, without.
County of “
Department of ”
Description
Hair Blonde
Eyes gray-blue
Forehead
Nose straight
Face oval
Weight 132-1/2 pounds
Height 5 feet 9 inches
Where engaged; volunteer; duration of the war, 24 November
1914, at Bordeaux, department of Gironde.
Number on recruiting list—997.
A small aluminum tag is given us. I wear mine on my left wrist fastened
by the mess-can chain. It is inscribed as follows:
Russell Kelly
EV 1914
Front side
Bordeaux
LM 997
Reverse side
The other day the Colonel inspected us and grouped us according to
nationalities: there were eighteen groups. We were lined up and the
Colonel was giving instructions when an aeroplane appeared, so we
promptly sought shelter. We all watch for an aeroplane and when one
comes we generally are marched to quarters. Quite a number of 'planes
are active but it is almost impossible to tell to which nation they
belong. No chance is taken, however, and we quickly get under cover. It
frequently happens that the sound of the motor is heard before the
'plane is located. Last Sunday night heavy canonading was heard. It
continued throughout the night, which was remarkably moonlight, and kept
us awake the major part of the time. It must have been a big battle; I
never heard its equal before.
When small detachments are shipped from here to join their battalions in
the trenches there is a great display of joyous feeling shown by the
men. They yell, sing, dance and rough-house generally. One would imagine
that they are going to a festival. The New York papers do not exaggerate
when they say this Legion is a fighting crowd. There are just enough of
each nationality so that one country fights another. There has been a
couple of scraps here to date. The chief cook for our section was an
Italian and as he was dishing up poor stuff, we four got sore and told
him he had better improve, but he did not take the hint. The kitchen is
located very near the loft we sleep in, so one day when the meal was
particularly poor we reached out of the door and heaved the whole
business at him. It almost completely demolished the kitchen. A plate of
meat and hot rice hit him on the head and he jumped into the path of a
bowl of soup. He was a sorry looking dago when the avalanche ceased. We
are getting good meals now. The other day we were nearly paralyzed when
he had fried potatoes for us.
A detachment of about eighty Greeks left yesterday for the trenches.
They were a very wild crowd and when they marched out of town they
carried two Greek flags and were singing Greek songs. They had Greek
officers. A number of the men had worked in the States. One was a waiter
in the Hotel Knickerbocker, New York, but most of them had worked in
railroad gangs.
I went to mass the other Sunday: it was served the same as in the
States. The Church is very old: the place for the altar is wider than
the pew space. The main altar is set back from the others and it only is
railed off. In the space I mentioned as being wider than the pew section
are two rows of pews, one on each side of the main aisle. They run at
right angles to the altar and, I take it, are reserved for the élite of
the town, as they are finely made and comfortable, not to mention their
isolation. The regular pews are very uncomfortable, being
straight-backed, while the board to kneel on is very narrow. The pews
are placed close together which cramps one considerably. The organ is
placed almost among the rafters. The acoustic properties of the building
are poor. The structure is of stone, the walls being very thick. Immense
stone columns, placed at short intervals, support the roof. On the first
column on the left hand side of the aisle, about twelve feet from the
floor, a small pulpit is built and is reached by a circular staircase.
The floor is of marble. Instead of tableaux, cheap pictures show the
Stations of the Cross. Lamps and candles furnish the light: no provision
is made for heat. The windows are of stained glass and rather artistic.
There was only a scattering of people, mostly women in mourning. A few
soldiers attended.
As I have said this is the Champagne country; vineyards exist in
abundance and at the present time they need attention; the ground around
each vine must be loosened. Most of the men are in the army, so nearly
every one in town turns out to work. Old men, old women, middle-aged
women, young women, boys and girls and even children labor in the yards.
I have seen grey-haired women bent almost double over the short
three-foot hoe in use here. Everybody works, they work hard and with a
will. From their appearance, the grapes will not suffer from lack of
attention.
A few nights ago just as I was on the point of going to sleep a soldier
came rushing through our quarters yelling “Fire.” In two shakes of a
lamb’s tail we were all downstairs, formed in ranks and on double time
in the direction of the fire, and as it was only a short distance off,
we were soon there. As is the local custom, the house was set back and
shut off from the road by an eighteen-inch brick and stone wall covered
with cement. Next to, and in fact part of the house was the hay shed;
some cavalry men were quartered here.
When we came into the courtyard the shed and nearest half of the top or
second floor of the house were in flames. Already some of the furniture
had been carried out from the ground floor rooms, and taking the hint,
we rushed through the doorway to bring out more. It was one of the best
houses in town and well furnished. By this time nearly everybody in town
had arrived, but there was no sign of any fire fighting apparatus, and
the fire was quickly destroying the house. Soon there were many
triumphant cries, and with much gusto the Fire Department of Bouzy burst
upon the scene, and was greeted by the crowd with many acclamations of
joy. The Fire Department was carried by eager hands, and seeing a couple
of vacant inches, I took hold. Everybody was yelling and giving orders,
so the Department was carried all over the yard and frequently came near
being deposited on the ground, when some one with an extra loud voice
would tell of a more advantageous spot, so there the Department would
go. This procedure was kept up for about five minutes before the machine
was placed.
It consisted of a heavy iron tank four feet long, three feet wide and
two feet high with two cylinders and a long two-handled bar for the
man-power. Soon the hose was arranged and men formed for a
bucket-brigade. Think of it: a machine to which the water must be
brought and then pumped through the hose to the blaze. It was a long
time before the water arrived and we frequently had to suspend for lack
of water. Smith mounted to the roof of the building and Larney was
conspicuous on an adjoining roof. Just as Smith reached the roof a
stream from a nearby house started to play, but lacked force enough to
reach the flames; it landed directly on Smith and continued playing on
him. In a short time he was drenched and the spray also wet Larney
through.
Well, to make a long story short, the building was completely destroyed,
but no damage was done to any nearby structure. Smith slept in his wet
clothes and the next morning when he unrolled from his blanket a cloud
of steam arose. He surely must have had an enjoyable evening trying to
sleep.
The helmets worn by the firemen were of brass and resembled the German
helmet, only lacking the spike. They were highly polished and quite
showy.
IV
IN THE FIRST LINE TRENCHES
_Somewhere in France (Bouzy),
March 7, 1915._