Chapter 3

From Brest to Langres

Before our train pulled out of Brest we were ordered out of our crowded compartments in the French railroad coaches for the purpose of bringing in traveling rations. These consisted of canned bully beef, canned jam, canned beans and bread. The bread that was given to us here was made into enormous loaves--the largest that any of us had ever seen. The loaves were sixteen or eighteen inches wide, from two and a half to three feet long and eight or nine inches high. They were American-made and were white and wholesome. The outside crust was hard but palatable and the inside was soft and flaky like home-made bread. We afterwards learned that these loaves had been baked weeks in advance and that they were kept fresh and palatable by the use of a chemical. Each compartment of eight men was given three of these large loaves which, together with a number of cans of beans, bully beef and jam, were to keep us supplied with food until we reached Langres, in eastern France, which was our destination. We had previously learned--on our trip overseas--to conserve food, and none of this supply was wasted. We stored it away in our cramped quarters and saw that it got proper care.

As we sat in the train waiting for it to start, we looked out upon the bay of Brest and saw numerous tugs busy along the waterfront. They were all engaged in war work of some kind. We also saw more American troops being landed at the wharf, just as we were landed a few days previous, and we knew their thoughts and feelings. In the air there were several airplanes and dirigible balloons giving needed protection to the ships that were entering the harbor.

While we were still in the yards of Brest, we also saw for the first time in France, numerous Chinese coolies, who were doing with their labor their part toward winning the war. They worked on the railroad tracks in large gangs. To the Eastern boys who were not acquainted with this class of Chinese laborers, they were quite a curiosity, but to the Western boys, the sight was nothing unusual. The coolies, however, were not dressed in the customary Chinese clothes, as in California, but were in a garb more like that which American laborers wear. They had on overalls, loose blouses or jumpers, heavy leather shoes and straw hats.

We pulled out of Brest about 10 o'clock in the morning. The train was made up of about twenty-five or thirty of those small and uncomfortable French coaches, and it moved very slowly. To one used to the fast first-class American trains, this French train seemed exceedingly slow, unaccommodating and tiresome. We first climbed gradually up the hills, overlooking the bay, and were furnished with a wonderful view. We could see far out to sea, and were in part compensated for the lack of comforts to which an American is accustomed when traveling, by the beauty of the scenery, and the many strange and interesting sights that were constantly meeting our eyes.

Soon after we left the ocean we came to a fertile farming section, in which crops of various kinds, such as grains, fruits, garden truck, etc., were grown. We had known that the farms in European countries are small, especially those of France, as compared with farms in America, but it was necessary for us to see the actual size of these small farms to realize how diminutive they are. As in the vicinity of Brest, mentioned in a previous chapter, the cultivated areas ranged in size from a half acre to two and a half acres. Rarely we would see a place as large as five acres, but that was the exception. No fences separated these farms, but the boundaries were marked by hedges and occasionally a low stone wall. In these small fields cultivation is not practiced as in this country, but the land is tilled in narrow strips. The numerous different textures of the soil, accounted for the large number of strips. Each strip was planted to a crop to which it was best suited.

The highways through this farming section are kept in excellent condition. They are built of rock and give the impression from the train window that a motor trip through France would be a delight. Rows of trees are planted along all the highways, the poplar tree predominating, but other trees being used frequently as well. The by-roads are of dirt but appear to be kept in good condition. They also have trees planted along them; this seems to be a characteristic of France, and readers will recall that in all war pictures where these roads have been shown, the rows of trees are always there. This is an excellent feature and one that California with its rapidly increasing mileage of concrete roads, might well follow.

Very few automobiles were seen on these highways, except those engaged in war transportation. Of course at the time that I made my observations, the country was engaged in war, and in peace times no doubt more automobiles belonging to civilians are in use. It is a fact, however, there are comparatively few automobiles among the civil population of France. Only the very rich own them. The masses of the people do not possess them, as in America. The civil population either walk along these highways or travel in horse-drawn carts and wagons. The carts are different from any that we see in America. Frequently they are heavily constructed with wheels of from six to eight feet in diameter. They are fitted with brakes, which are used on the grades. They have a long body, that is, long for a cart, and this is laden with the varied products of the small farms which are in this way taken to market. Most frequently these carts are drawn by one horse, though it is not unusual to see two or three horses hitched to one when the load is heavy. When more than one horse is used, the animals are not hitched abreast, but tandem. The wheel horse is hitched between two long heavy shafts and his duty seems to be largely that of steering the unwieldy conveyance, while the front horse or horses do most of the pulling. The harness is heavy and the rear horse is protected from sores that might be caused by rubbing, by a heavy and well padded saddle and a heavy girth. It was a common sight to see a woman driving one of these carts and guiding the wheel horse and handling the brakes, while boys were either driving or leading the leaders. These strange and cumbersome rigs, so different from any that we had ever seen before, interested and amused us.

The crops in the section through which we passed on our first day out of Brest appeared to be good. They gave me, a Californian with considerable farming experience, the impression that agriculture has been very carefully studied by the French. Occasionally we would see small tracts lying fallow, apparently to give the land a needed rest, while other tracts were being cultivated. On some of the small farms it was haying season. We were surprised as we noted the methods of the French farmer in this particular branch of husbandry. The hay was cut mostly by women and children with scythes. An American mower probably had never been seen there. It seemed like a tremendous waste of human energy to see these women and children doing such hard manual labor in the field, when a modern mower would cut the entire field in a very short time. It seems to me there should be a field for the sale of American mowers and other modern American farm machinery in the rural districts of France. While the farms are so small that the individual farmer could not, perhaps, afford to buy a mower, still, several farmers could go in together and buy one, or the community as a whole could buy one, for the common use of all who needed it. Here is something that the French and American Governments might get together on, for surely the French want to conserve the energy of their women and children who now do this hard work, and the Americans want a wider market for their modern farm equipment. It must be said, however, that the women of the French peasantry who were doing this hard work, appeared strong and healthful, and were enured to this difficult labor, no doubt, through many generations of this hard farm life.

We noticed as we got away from the coast, that there was a change in the style of dress of the peasants. We no longer saw the round hats with the ribbon streamers hanging down behind, so familiar in the rural districts around Brest. The dress of the peasants, farther in the interior, was more like that of the laboring classes of America. The men and women both wore serviceable clothes of dark material, but few of them wore anything on their heads. Sabots were worn instead of leather shoes. The women wore a sort of an Arctic sock over the stockings; the men frequently wore no socks at all. Occasionally the sabots would be several sizes too large for the wearer, but were made to fit by stuffing straw in them. This must have been rather uncomfortable, but the French peasantry seemed not to mind it at all.

While the horse is the principal draft animal in France, oxen are also used by some farmers. Most Western boys have seen teams of oxen, as they are still in use in some of the mountain districts of California, or at least they were still in use up to a few years ago; but to the Eastern boys an ox team was a new and interesting sight, and there was much comment upon it.

The first large city at which we stopped after leaving Brest was Nantes. This is a popular and ancient city, famous for the edict of Nantes, and more famous still, perhaps, because of the revocation of that edict by Louis XIV, which led to disastrous religious wars. Nantes is also famous as the birthplace of Jules Verne, whose "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," became an actuality during the world war. It is a city of about 150,000 and is an important industrial center, having extensive shipyards, factories, wharves, etc. It is on the right bank of the Loire River, about thirty-five miles from its mouth and is one of the chief ports of entry of France.

Nantes has a very interesting history and it contains many ancient and famous edifices. It was not our privilege, however, to see any more of the city than the views afforded from the train, for we stopped here but a short time. It was there that we got our first taste of French coffee, which is very different from that made and served in America. It was furnished to us by the French Government. At first it was distasteful to us, but after drinking it a few times we became used to it and later on we really liked it.

We were now in the rich valley of the Loire, one of the most productive and one of the most famous in France. It is not nearly so large as the Sacramento Valley, in California, nor as fertile, yet its fame extends around the world. It is drained by the Loire River, which is the longest river in France, being more than 600 miles in length, and being navigable for ships as far as Nantes and for river boats for more than five hundred miles of its length.

In the valley of the Loire we began to see the beautiful vineyards of France. In this district the farms as a rule were a little larger than those we saw on our way from Brest to Nantes, and consequently the hedges were less numerous. It was an exceedingly picturesque scene that met our eyes as we rolled along in the slow train. One noticeable fact was that each little vineyard was of a different shade of green from that of its nearest neighbors, due perhaps, to a different variety of plant, or to a variation of soil. There seemed to be no two of just the same shade. It was also in the Valley of the Loire that we saw considerable fruit production. Orchards were more numerous here than on the coast. They were planted to most of the deciduous trees with which we of California are familiar, although prunes seemed to predominate.

While we were traveling through this valley we were greeted with some familiar sights and sounds. These were the American box car and locomotive and the sound of the whistle of a U. S. A. train. We greeted the American rolling stock as companions, and were truely glad to see them. We could easily distinguish between the sound of the whistle of an American locomotive and that of a French engine, the American whistle being deep and the French shrill. It may seem strange to think that I comment upon such a small matter as a locomotive whistle, but when one is in a foreign land, amid foreign scenes and sounds, a familiar sound is good to hear, even though it is as unmusical as a deep blast of an American-made locomotive.

Our next stop at a place of importance was at Tours--historic Tours. This is a city of more than 100,000 inhabitants and is one of the most interesting cities in France.

I spent several weeks here in a hospital after being gassed on the Metz front and I will speak in more detail of this city in a later chapter.

At Tours we were given more freedom than at any previous stop, and here our officers bought chocolates, tobacco and fruit and distributed them among the men. These dainties were the first we had since leaving Brest and were surely appreciated.

After leaving Tours we continued to wind through the Valley of the Loire along the Loire River, and I must say that the vineyards and orchards between Tours and Orleans, our next stop, were the prettiest that I saw in all of France. In this particular part of the valley the trees and vines are exceedingly prolific, as compared with trees and vines in other parts of France. They are not, however, as prolific as those of California. The trees do not attain as large a growth as those of this State and the vines are less vigorous. The fruit is neither as large nor does it have the quality of ours. The 1918 fruit crop was a large one, as measured by French standards, but yield per acre, I am sure, would be small as compared with the yield per acre of a first class Sacramento river orchard. The difference of the quality and the yield as compared with our fruits, is undoubtedly due to the fact that for centuries the lands of the Loire have been cultivated, while our lands are new and contain all their natural richness. The vineyards are planted differently from ours. The vines are four feet apart one way and eight feet apart another, while ours are usually planted eight or ten feet apart each way. Having been reared on a California vineyard, I was naturally very much interested in the vineyards of France, and I examined those that I had the opportunity of visiting very carefully. I inspected some of the grapes that were pronounced first class by French vineyardists, and found them to be very inferior to California grapes. The berries were smaller and they contained less juice.

The farther we traveled into the interior of France, the more interested the people became in us. In other words, the nearer we came to the scene of action, the greater was the enthusiasm of the French people over our arrival. While we excited but small interest in the small towns on the coast, as we got closer to the front, there were delegations of women and children at the station waving to us at every small or large town through which we passed. Cries of "Vive L'Amerique" were more frequent, and we had hopes that the persistent "donnez moi" would be heard less frequently, but it was not. We never ceased hearing it as long as there were French children around.

We arrived at Orleans late in the evening of the third day of our trip, and here we received a very hearty welcome from the American Red Cross, as we did at Tours. The station at Orleans was more like an American station than any that we had yet seen in France. It was large and equipped with several tracks, as are most American stations. Orleans is full of interest, but we were not permitted to stop there long. We continued on our journey all night and the next day were out of the Valley of the Loire and into a hilly section. While the scenery was attractive, there were fewer cultivated areas and the soil was less productive. We now began to see more of the American war activities in France. We saw tented cities that had been built for troops in record time; we saw camps where American soldiers were being drilled; and we saw great quantities of American implements of war such as airplanes, ammunition, light and heavy artillery, etc. In this region we also passed three hospital trains coming from the front with American soldiers who had been wounded, and we knew we were getting very near the fighting. We also noticed a decided difference in the French inhabitants. We detected a deeper interest in the war among these people who were so near the battle line than in those farther away, and we noted that not a young man was to be seen among the civilians in eastern France--they were all at the front fighting to save their homes from the ruthless Hun.

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the fourth day after we had left Brest, we arrived at Langres, which was our destination, so far as train travel was concerned. It was a great relief to leave those crowded compartments in that uncomfortable train. The distance from Brest to Langres by the route we traveled probably does not exceed six hundred miles, yet it took us four days and three nights to make the distance. A first class American train would cover the same distance in about sixteen hours. At times our train moved so slowly that a man could get out and keep up with it by running along the side. There were no conveniences on the train, such as American travelers are accustomed to. For instance, there were no toilets, and the train would stop every three or four hours at some small station where latrines were provided for our use. No one knows how miserable we were on this trip, and the only thing that kept the boys from complaining was the fact that the country was new to us and strange sights and scenes made us forget our discomfort. Still, we did not have things as bad as some of the American boys, who were compelled to travel across France in box cars.

We were all glad to stretch our legs at Langres, and after we were given a little refreshing exercise, we were loaded on motor trucks and taken to our barracks, located in a stone building formerly used as a convent.

The city of Langres is beautifully situated. It is on a hill that rises from a plateau. It is a city of great antiquity, dating from the time of the Romans. There can be no doubt but that its original location was selected because of its strategic position, as it is on the summit of a ridge and commands the situation in every direction. In mediaeval times it was a stronghold for the feudal lords and in modern times it is still of importance as a fortress. The city is surrounded by a defense wall, built hundreds of years ago, and around the outside of the wall was a moat, wide and deep. In feudal days this moat was part of the defense works and it was kept filled with water. It was dry when we visited and has been so for many years, as a moat would be but as slight obstructure in modern warfare. But it made the city well nigh impregnable in the mediaeval days before gunpowder was invented and when most fighting was of the hand to hand kind. We entered the city through an arched gate and crossed the moat on a bridge which could be drawn up in case of attack. At present the gate is always kept lowered, but it could be drawn up if necessary. It was easy to picture in the mind's eye as we looked at these relics of former days, the feudal barons of the age of chivalry, sallying forth from this ancient stronghold on their steeds to make war or to plunder and prepared to retreat behind this moat and wall where they would be safe in the event that they were opposed by superior forces. I could not but think, as I stood upon this historic ground, that we ourselves were making history and that the fight that we were then preparing to make, while less romantic than the skirmishes of the feudal barons, was vastly more important to the welfare of the world.

Situated as it is upon an eminence, a view that is beyond description is to be obtained from Langres. From the ramparts one may see the upper valley of the Marne with its checkerboard of farms of various hues; the Vosges; and on a clear day the white peak of Mont Blanc, one hundred and sixty miles distant.

In strong contrast with the way in which ancient warriors entered Langres, we were loaded onto motor trucks and taken up the steep and winding way that led to the gates of the city by means of the most modern way of transportation. Our eyes were fastened on the oddities of this strangely interesting city as we wound through the streets, some of which were narrow, others wide, past well kept parks and buildings older than most of the modern governments, and we were filled with a sort of reverence for this historic spot as we took our places in the barracks made ready for us.