Part 2

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.

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.