AT THE FRONT--SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE.
November 30, 1917.
The rumor at the Lafayette Escadrille this evening is that they have
been at last transferred. Of course they had similar rumors many
times before. For myself I am becoming rather indifferent, very well
satisfied here except for weather, and getting what I came over here
for.
Father mentioned something about a monitor’s job (after I had had
experience at the front). My present inclination is decidedly against
the idea. There is no job in the world I like less to think of and
there are plenty of people who want to get comfortably settled in the
rear, so let them, say I, and may they enjoy it. It is not a very
pleasant job. As a retirement after a period of service at the front
it is another matter. Of all people I can think of I have the smallest
right to an _embusqué_ job at present--so here I hope to stay. Whether
I fly with an American or French uniform I don’t care very much at the
present moment. I had rather get a Boche than any commission in the
army, but one cannot always tell about the future; perhaps after a few
good scares I’ll be ready to jump at a monitor’s job.