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III

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In the Champagne Region

We left the train at Epernay, an important city some twenty miles back from the battle lines, but subject to air raids, as I observed from demolished and dilapidated buildings in various parts of the town, and as I was to learn from personal experience before many days had passed.

Here we were met by a member of Section One, a young fellow by the name of Stout, well named, of stocky build and robust appetite. Norton and I had eaten lightly and suggested that we repair to a café for luncheon before proceeding on to where Section One had its cantonment near the front. Stout said he would join us for company’s sake, but that he had finished dinner just a short while before. As we ate and talked a large plate of pastry was placed upon the table and Stout was prevailed upon to take one, and as we talked Stout emptied the plate and we called for more which we divided with Stout. After luncheon I caught Norton’s ear and said to him: “You heard Stout say he had his Sunday dinner?”

“Yes.”

“You noticed the vanishing plate of sweets?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it looks to me,” I said, “as if Section One is starving.”

That was before we knew Stout of robust appetite. But Stout had plenty of vim and vigor and was untiring, and later won the Croix de Guerre at Verdun. Stout and I quarrelled at Verdun, after which I had a genuine affection for him.

We clambered into a motor truck, Stout driving, and were on the second stage of our journey to the front. We reached the town of Louvois about six o’clock. Here Section One had its cantonment. Louvois is a picturesque village, far enough back from the lines not to be entirely deserted by its civilian population, mostly simple people living in simple homes just as their forebears had lived in the same homes a hundred years and more before. Here we began to breathe the atmosphere of the war—here, night and day, we saw the movement of the troops to and from the front—we saw the procession of camions carrying munitions and supplies—large cannons being drawn by many horses—the little machine guns—sometimes a fleet of armored cars equipped with anti-aircraft guns. Overhead we saw the large observation balloons and heard the whirr of aeroplanes. In the distance we could hear the firing at the front.

Supper was being served underneath a shed, and it was a good supper, too. Section One was not starving. We were cordially received by the members of the Section. “Red” Day and “Farney” were in the gathering. “Red” had served with the Section in Belgium. After supper we strolled along the street and listened while Purdy, a bright young fellow, told us all about the war. Purdy was six feet tall and as I later observed every inch a soldier.

That night we were billeted in the second story of a dilapidated barnlike building from which the windows were all gone, and lying on my cot I could see the stars through the roof. That night a rat ran across my face. At last I was getting into the war.

An American Crusader at Verdun

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