(Told by James M. White--"Somewhere in France")
_The thrilling experiences through which drivers for the American
Ambulance in France pass are narrated in this letter. Mr. White has
been decorated with the Croix de Guerre._
So many things have happened ... that I hardly know where to begin.
Also, I am pretty tired out, so please excuse this letter if it is
rather incoherent. We have been working our present posts now for three
weeks and often it has meant forty-eight hours steady. Not only has it
been hard work but it has been most exciting. One of the boys who has
been always with the section says that never has he seen such all round
hard and exciting work. It is practically over now and we will all be
very glad to go _en repos_.
You have seen by the papers of around this date what a successful
attack the French have made. Out of the numerous sections of the
ambulance we had the honor of doing the hardest work, and it has been
well appreciated, for letters have been written to the General about
it. That probably will mean a citation for us.
When I write you about what we have gone through I do it, not for
personal reasons, but because I want you to know that this work is no
play, and far from being an occupation of the "semi-heroic rich." I
have seen more of war in five minutes in this sector than in months
in the other places we have been. Nine of our twelve cars have been
hit, but luckily only one chap has been wounded, and that not very
seriously. I really think there is a divine Providence watching over
us, for you would hardly believe some miraculous escapes that have
taken place.
I have seen demonstrated something which I had heard but never
believed, namely that a shell can land so close that its proximity
saves one, the eclats going over one's head. Shells play queer tricks
at times. Three cars were standing in a row, one with two wounded. A
shell landed near and the concussion blew whole panels out of each car
and killed the two men. The remarkable part is that neither the cars
nor men were actually hit by anything but dirt.
Nowadays the Germans seldom send over waves of gas. They seem to prefer
to send in hundreds of gas shells. These have the same whistle as the
high explosives but do not explode with a loud noise. It is more like
the opening of a gigantic ginger ale bottle. They do a lot of damage,
for they often catch one unawares. They will pick out a hollow and
just drench it with gas shells; some smell like garlic and others like
mustard. We have found it impossible to drive at night with masks on,
especially those of us who wear glasses, for they immediately fog up.
All of us dread these shells, much preferring to take our chance with
the high explosive. A soldier was telling me of a new gas that they
send in by shells. Wherever there is a perspiration on the body it
forms an acid which gives a very bad burn. The men suffer most around
the necks, under the arms and on the hands.
Altogether, this has been a tremendously interesting period. The aerial
activity has been intense, there being lots of fights and numerous
captive balloons brought down. The Germans have a nasty habit of coming
over at night, flying low and turning their mitrailleuse on the roads
which they know are crowded with wagons carrying material.
By a lucky shot the other day the Germans started a fire in a small
munitions depot quite close to us. I have seen displays of fireworks,
but this had them all beaten with a four hours' display. Some of the
abris up front are perfect marvels of safety and comfort and I shall
try and give you an idea of one. One side of a solid stone hill had
been used before the war as a quarry. This particular side happened to
be away from the Boche. It has been so tunnelled that one walks through
cave after cave with plenty of head room and spacious rooms. Everywhere
there is plenty of light supplied by an electric generator and one
finds a wonderfully complete and clean operating room. Remember this
is all within a mile and a half of the front-line trenches, which in
modern warfare is a short distance.
The wounded get splendid treatment; but of course stretchers take the
place of beds, for it is by no means a hospital. They can comfortably
take care of 200 men and, mind you, all of this has been cut out of
solid rock. At such a post we get the men and take them back to the
field hospital, where they may again be sorted for transport to the
hospitals further back.
We carried quite a few German wounded yesterday and it is very
interesting to hear their ideas about things in general. Most of them
seem to be in great perplexity about why we declared war. Some of them
seem like mere boys and others quite old, but then that holds for all
armies.
It is almost a month since I heard from America, but then I know how
busy you all must be with the moving. Please tell Tom that the second
package of tobacco has come and I am ever so grateful. I lost my
passport but have another. I had to have new pictures taken and walked
all over Paris on a hot day to find a place, hence the expression.