On the Edge of the War Zone From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes

ber 7

zed that I had let three weeks go by without writing to you. I have

hough we have settled down with hope, I c

to be told, although you are so far away, that for me, personally, it could only increase the grief I felt that Washington had not made the protest I expe

boys are standing the winter in the trenches very wel

hat they had got to stay out there in the rain and the mud and

s ride over them? Her only reply was that they would all die. I

weater pocket, and I stop every ten steps to dig the cakes of mud off my sabots. I take up a good bit of my landed property at every step. So I can guess, at least, what it

am ve

ages-it enabled me to do my trading in the commune, which I liked, and it relieved Amélie from having to carry heavy hods of coal in all weathers from the grange outside. But, alas, the railroad communications being cut-no coal

aid that no amount of imagining what one will or will not do prepares one to know what one will really do face to face with such actualities as I live amongst. I must confess that had I had anyone dear to me here, anyone for whose safety or moral courage I was-or imagined I was-res

itish Expedition which landed in France in the middle of August. He made all that long, hard retreat from Belgium to the Marne, and was in the terrible Battle of the Rivers. I am enclosing a letter I have just received from him, because I think it very characteristic. Besides, if you remember him, I am s

eare

er 30

s disappointed enough at the time, but then my regret was tempered by the thought that you were probably safe in Paris, and I should only find an empty house at La Creste. Now that I know that

y train, via Amiens, to Houtmont, a few kilometres west of Mauberge. There we detrained one morning

e we were actually on the march, and possibly going many miles in another direction. The following day, however-the 4th-we retraced our steps somewhat, and halted to bivouac a short distance west of a village named La Haute Maison-roughly about six miles from you. I immediately asked permission to ride over to Huiry. The Major, with much regret, declined to let me leave, and, since we received orders to march again an hour later, he was right. We marched all that night.

earest M---.

state such a trying exp

ample of a sol

was here on a visit, having just returned from North Nigeria, after five years in the civi

Of course I knew he was somewhere out there, but to have seen him actually riding away to it would have been different. Yet it might not, for I am sure his conversation would have been as calm as his letters, and they read as much as if he were taking an excit

its memories of Marlborough, and where, had the Dutch left the Duke a free hand, he would have marched on Paris-with other Allies-as he did on Lille. I must own that h

kins and the French poilu are delightful together. For that matter, the French peasants love the English. They never saw any

ve them-could ever accuse th

e object of affectionate sarcasm and the subject of cari

day, and as for the man who is a real "between"-well, he is in a sad box. But what of that? He doesn't seem to care. He is so occu

h you could see them together. The poilu would hug Tommy and plant a kiss on each of his cheeks-if he dared. But, needless to say, that is the last sort of thing Tommy wants. So, faute de mieux the poilu w

race immune to home-sickness, has persisted for centuries, and may be so bred in the bone, fibre, and soul of the race as to persist forever. It may have made his legs and his spine so straight that he can't unbend. He has hi

an idea of the route the English were moving on during the battle, and the lo

been beautiful; and then climbing by Voulangis to the Forest of Crécy on the way to Fontenay by moonlight even more lovely, with the panorama of Villiers and the valley of the Morin seen through the trees of the windin

ll of flowers, which we cut for the Jour des Morts. I know you won't believe that, but it is true. A few days later there came a wind-storm, and when it was over, in spite of the heavy poles I put in to hold them up, they were laid as flat as though the German cavalry had passed over them. I was heart-broken, but Père only shrugged his shoulders and remarked: "If one wi

l you about. The ends of my fing