Charles Wadsworth Camp

“ And both battalion commanders can tell you the same story of a kindness, helpfulness, and hospitality utterly at variance with one's notions of life the front. We never ceased to marvel at the easy and efficient control the French had of their work. Things that seemed most dreadfully complicated and difficult to us at first, they took with a smile and a careless gesture. They impressed you as having assumed a habit of war that obliterated all the past, that assumed until the end of the world a continuation of disagreeable and morbid events that must be made the best of. ”

“ It is magic to step from the medieval romance of the streets into the glittering present of hotels, restaurants, or theatres. Within doors the only material alteration is the carefully drawn blinds. As many lights burn. As far as you can judge as many people crowd the world of pleasure. Yet there is as great a change inside, only it isn't physical. The ever-present officer and soldier point it for you. It takes some time to grow accustomed to these splendid men in uniform. ”

“ The men, standing waist-deep in the underbrush, shaking from the cold, and, probably, a little, too, from the excitement, craned their necks in the direction of the target, 2,000 yards away.
The white flag on the hill continued to flutter, advertising that there was no firing and that the range was safe. We knew, until white was replaced by red, nothing of interest to us would happen. The gray afternoon waned. Cannoneers blew impatiently on their hands. The ranks in the underbrush stamped their feet and waved their arms, setting up a crackling like the advance of a vast army. ”

“ He glanced from one to the other of the two young women. No sane man, he knew, would hesitate for a moment; but in order to prove his sanity, he would have to violate tradition, fly in the face of his small but powerful world, and—the thought would not leave him—what would she, herself, say?
"Kate, my mother has just been saying that she doesn't like old things, so I've brought her to you."
The girl moved forward as though to offer her hand, but Mrs. Randall's formal bow repelled her. He turned to Claire, but his mother was not letting the opportunity slip. She nodded towards Claire. ”

“ Must we lose them, too? Why do you want to be a soldier, son?"
"I want to kill the Germans, because they killed my poor papa."
His face twitched into an expression at last, and, as he continued to sip his tea, great tears rolled down his cheeks and fell into the cup. But the widow didn't cry. In the great munition factories most of the women wore mourning, too, and the eyes of many were disturbingly like the eyes of the widow. It was not easy at first to watch their slender, dark-clothed figures, their soft and pretty faces, bent over tasks of preparing death and mutilation for men. ”

“ Studying their faces, you might decide they gaze with horror on the result of some red and impulsive work their hands have just accomplished. That, or that the souvenir of some murderous indiscretion, has unexpectedly risen from the past to challenge their content. For their faces are not without horror—a helpless, desperate horror, and one does gasp:
"Great Cæsar's ghost!"
But there's really no ghost, or any crimson relic-nothing exceptional all in the plain little room except one perfectly good set of artillery harness.
An officer flings his hands above his head in a gesture of despair. ”

“ Mrs. Randall's face was red, and Claire as soon as she saw him got to her feet. He felt that he was interrupting combatants, not conspirators. His mother sat up.
"For heaven's sake, Freddy, where did you get that thing on your head?"
"Kate put it there," he said simply.
Claire smothered a laugh and went onto the veranda.
"This has gone quite far enough," his mother said. "I want you to pack your trunk. You are coming hack to the city with me."
"No, I'm not, mother."
"You're quite strong enough; if you're not, you can go somewheres else." ”

“ From the first glimpse you had known what those rows of dripping, studded, stolid boots had reminded you of—boots, too still, on the feet of dead men.
"You see, we don't waste anything," the officer was saying prosaically.
Even among the little children at the Belgian orphilinat where we had tea that afternoon the war dominated. It lurked in the black uniforms, in the young faces where that eternal question was more pitiful than ever, in the heap of hay at the end of the yard which the babies with a perfect seriousness modelled into the semblance of trenches and redoubts. ”

“ The captain's face would usually express an emotion bordering on tears—an eloquent emotion, which usually interpreted everything for the official. His face would brighten. He would look at his own watch. Realizing the futility of further words, he would carefully indicate two points on the dial.
"Quarante—minutes," the captain would say. "Get them out with mess kits," he would call to his aides. Tumbling from their cars the men would come and form a feverish line. Details would carry pails of food forward to the drivers. The captain would watch with a smile. ”

“ We all piled from the train and had half an hour's brisk march through the picturesque little city. But it was the railroad station that impressed us most. Permissionaires swarmed there in faded blue uniforms and battered helmets. Some were smiling and happy, talking with vivacity and wide gestures to civilians. Evidently they had just arrived. The soil of the front line still stained their clothing. Others, far neater and encumbered with equipment, did not have much to say. ”

“ The houses of the suburbs were marked with shell fragments. One or two men and women glided silently past us, clinging to the shelter of walls.
We swerved into a vast open space. At first I didn't realise. Then I left the car and, holding my breath, unconscious of the rain, stood gazing upward.
The cathedral of Rheims proves how absurdly conservative photography is. A picture of the twin towers and the rose window won't give you a sense of unbelievable tragedy, or an instinct to speak not at all or in whispers. That is because the horror of Rheims from the front is a matter of detail. ”

“ Since most of the regiment couldn't go to town, families came down; and wives, mothers, sweethearts don't speed their nearest on to battle with dry eyes.
These final farewells were given as far as practicable a just proportion of the last rushed days. From morning to night the hostess houses were filled with women, soberly clothed, who knitted, and, for the most part, sat silently, glancing up each time a brown clad figure hurried in.
Towards the end they learned the way to the barracks, and sat in noisy, cluttered mess halls. At each opportunity their men would sit with them. ”

“ As we drew closer we all noticed a tall, straight young fellow in a Highland uni- form. He walked up and down impatiently, swinging a little stick, glancing with anxious eyes at the crowd of us by the forward rail. The girl and her mother were near. They cried out.
They glanced at each other tearfully. They commenced with jerky motions to wave their handkerchiefs. The young officer, with a piece of shrapnel near his heart, suddenly swung his stick, paused, and stared up at the tear-stained faces.
"Doesn't he look fit?” the girl cried proudly. "But not really fit—never fit for war again." ”

“ When a battery had finished loading it looked a good deal like a circus train. The heads of horses appeared through the open doors of some box cars. Men sat, dangling their legs, in others. The fourgon always appeared gigantic on its fat, and behind it stretched the sleek inquisitive noses of the pieces and the stubby bulk of caissons and limbers. Usually the water cart and the rolling kitchen were on a flat next to the men's cars. Brown figures were busy about the kitchen, and a promising smoke belched from its chimney. ”

“ We sat in the cars, listening to the ugly roar while we studied this nerve centre of the fighting system.
The headquarters was a large brick château, set across a wide and pleasant yard. On the high verendah a group of officers lounged, smoking and with puzzled faces appearing to listen, too. Sentries paced swiftly up and down before the steps. From a wooden shack at one side a brass horn, like an automobile signal, seemed perpetually ready to scream. ”

“ The shallow, unfinished appearance of the sap advertised it as a temporary work that could be abandoned at any time the German fire should make it wise. Crouched as I was, strands of the overlapping barbed wire caught at my hat, and the weeds, evidently encouraged to mask the narrow ditch, brushed against my face. The cut debouched into a small square pocket where a solitary figure rested, motionless and sombre. His rifle barrel protruded through the grass. ”

“ The mess sergeant placed steaming cans of coffee and tins of corn bread on the counter. His voice sang out cheerily:
"Come and get it!"
The inert and drowsy groups aroused themselves. A rough line was formed and passed stolidly by, each man taking his share without words.
As they munched they stared at the bare walls and the pine tables and the windows beyond which the indifferent dawn illuminated a little through the mist the unfamiliar wastes of Upton.
A sergeant cried with rough good humor:
"We're not going to bite you. What's the matter? Talk up! Haven't you got a song?" ”

“ That night, or early the next morning, a story went on the lips of the most conservative, that we had, towards midnight, actually run into a submarine nest, and that two torpedoes had been fired at the Northern Pacific, and one at the Von Steuben. Judging from the letters home it was accepted generally as a fact.
We knew we should be in by Saturday, and everyone was glad. It was growing irksome to sleep with one's clothes on, to carry everywhere the blue Life jacket, to stumble about at night in the insufficient green light, unable to read or play cards. ”

“ From the waterfront I watched transports enter and leave the harbour. On the docks the work of unloading proceeded with a precise efficiency. In the streets, wagons and automobile trucks, to which good-natured Tommies clung, hurried tempestuously. Officers strolled here and there, swinging little canes. Their faces were rather more serious than the faces scanned in London. All at once you realised that you were actually on the soil of war-torn France, within a few miles of the grotesque and deadly battle of the trenches. ”

“ From the start officers and men knew the answer as affirmative. Day by day beneath the bland autumn sun faces bronzed, chests seemed to expand and shoulders to broaden before the tonic of physical labor. For it wasn't all drill. The miracles continued, but there weren't enough civilian workmen available to construct the city, to clear vast spaces for drilling, and to arrange artillery and small-arms ranges. So orders came for the draft men to pitch in and help. Thus commenced the cheerful game of stump pulling. ”

“ We walked on through apparently endless lines of trenches with a glimpse at a turning, perhaps, of a bit of brick wall in the shelter of which poilus improvised a meal. In all directions lines branched from the communication we followed. Each was labelled. It was like a hidden city whose inhabitants carried an air of constant expectancy. Covered with mud these creatures slipped by us from time to time. ”

“ They chased about us as if in pursuit of each other, tearing along our sides, doubling about and dashing perilously beneath our bows or stern. They cheered everyone. The sun was unclouded. The sea had gone down. We commenced to pack.
Early the next morning thick fog shrouded us. We were summoned to abandon ship drill—another business like call, and when we glanced at our compasses we saw that the boat had turned around, and that we were headed west. ”

“ Williams said, "Fancy being under one of those Black Marias!"
Our fancy, however, was directed to a danger more immediate. We looked up at a whirring overhead and saw a war 'plane, flying high in our direction. As if born of the air five more appeared, sailed over the trenches, swerved back above us, and circled away again. They were too high to make identity certain, so we crouched as close as we could to the wall while we speculated. ”

“ It was clear enough after that that we were behind the British lines. British faces, British khaki, British methods filled the frames of the windows.
At country stations hospital trains lay on sidings, ready to receive from temporary hospitals and ambulances their grim and scarlet freight. Their drab sides were relieved only by red crosses in white squares. But in each car clusters of field flowers splashed colour. ”