I took special pains to learn the details of the German occupation and to search for any damage they might have done. There had been no fighting within the city and it had not been sh.e.l.led by either side.

The German armies had entered it unopposed and had retired from it unpursued, both as the result of decisive actions fought at distant points.

On entering the city the Germans had posted notices warning the inhabitants to refrain from hostile actions and threatening them with dire consequences if they did not obey orders. A considerable number of the leading citizens were taken as hostages for the good behavior of the populace and an exorbitant indemnity was demanded of the city.

As a result of bargaining and protest this was finally cut down until the conquerors contented themselves with something like one hundred and fifty thousand francs in gold, and supplies to the value of about eight hundred thousand. All this levy was turned over within four days, after which the hostages were released, the populace having behaved in a manner satisfactory to the invaders.

The headquarters of the British Red Cross Field Ambulance train of the Section Beauvais-Lille were temporarily in Amiens. The Consul presented me to Mr. Fabian Ware, the Commissioner in command, who very kindly invited me to dine with him and his staff.

_At the Front, Wednesday, October 14th._ We spent last night in Amiens and after a day near the front returned again to Amiens in the afternoon. On the way from Pas to Amiens the machine was running rapidly down the slope of a hill toward a little village in the valley, when an old white-haired woman detached herself from a knot of peasants beside the road and suddenly threw herself in front of the wheels. By putting on the brakes the driver managed to stop just in time to prevent her being crushed. She then tried to crawl under the car and was dragged screaming away by the villagers. It seems that some twenty years ago this woman had been left a widow with one child, a boy. With endless labor she had brought him to manhood and given him more than an average education. When the war broke out her son was immediately called to the colors, while she remained caring for her tiny house, her chickens, and her cow. When the Germans came a battle took place in her village, her house was knocked down, her cow blown up by a sh.e.l.l, and finally her chickens disappeared down German throats. The poor old woman, refusing to leave the locality in which her life had been pa.s.sed, had wandered about for days in the rain and mud, until cold, hunger, and sorrow had made her light-witted. Then while roaming aimlessly over the fields she had come upon the body of her dead son.

On this trip I have travelled along the front from La.s.signy to a point near Arras, or about fifty-five miles of battle-line.

We left Amiens at six o'clock in the evening and pa.s.sed through Abbeville on the coast, this being the point before mentioned from which the Germans were at the time only thirty-eight miles distant and which they might have reached in two days had they advanced as rapidly as they did at times during August, or as rapidly as they now seem to be doing farther north in Belgium. I continued up the coast some forty miles through Etaples to Paris-Plage, which I reached at ten o'clock.

I went immediately to the residence of the Countess X. and found to my great satisfaction that the French chauffeur whom I had sent on ahead to prepare the family for the trip to Paris had arrived safely with the limousine the day previous and that the children and nurses were all ready to leave at daybreak tomorrow.

Before going to bed I called on the Mayor and after a long conference arranged for proper pa.s.ses to get my charges out of the town the next morning.

_Thursday, October 15th._ We all got started this morning at half-past six. I had told the chauffeur to warn the nurses to provide milk, food, and everything the children would need for the long day's run, as I planned to make Paris in one day and did not wish to stop except for emergencies. I put the five youngest "kids" and the two nurses inside the limousine and took the English governess and the two older children in the back seat of my own car.

Despite my papers from the Mayor of Paris-Plage, my personal pa.s.ses, and a large sign across the front of the automobile reading, "In the Service of the Amba.s.sador of the United States," I had an exciting time getting past the gendarmes of the town and the Prefecture of Montreuil. The difficulty lay in the nationality of the children and of one of the nurses, all of whom were Hungarians and therefore officially enemies of France. As such they were not supposed to travel about, especially not behind the French battle-line. The details of my struggles are too numerous to relate, but finally we got through successfully and at good speed ran towards Paris. The day throughout proved a strenuous one with many detentions caused by suspicious sentries and over cautious prefects, together with four blow-outs and one breakdown. Each self-important petty official could see no reason why I should not spend several hours explaining things for his special benefit. It was manifestly impossible to keep the babies out over-night, and therefore I overrode objections, answered innumerable questions, and freely used the magic name of the American Amba.s.sador.

The frequent tire trouble, which gave the rest of us much anxiety, filled the heart of little Count Paul, aged seven, with unalloyed delight, for when the machine stopped to shift tires, he could get out in the road and listen to the thrilling sound of guns booming off to the left.

In the end, what had to be done was done. We made Paris and "Mother"

at eight o'clock after a fourteen-hour run--all dead tired, but no one the worse for the trip.

I obtained a very telling idea of the immensity of the Battle of the Aisne on this rapid run, for today the atmosphere had cleared and was in a sound-transmitting mood, so that all day long we could hear the cannon on our left booming, booming, without cessation--eighty miles of cannon, or fourteen hours of booming, a big measure. Our route lay through Etaples, Montreuil, Abbeville, Pont Remy, Aviames, Poix, where we stopped for luncheon, Grandvilliers, Pontoise, and through the Porte Maillot into Paris.

CHAPTER VII

THE AMERICAN AMBULANCE

_Paris, Thursday, October 15th._ For the present the jottings in my diary grow farther and farther apart, as events worth recording have during the past weeks occurred with less and less frequency. The volume of Emba.s.sy work in the department of Germans, Austrians, and Hungarians has of late been steadily decreasing. Since the end of September our work has chiefly consisted of routine diplomatic correspondence relating to prisoners of war. Mr. Herrick's efforts have recently been successful in obtaining from the French government an order permitting interned civilians to return by way of Switzerland to their homes in Germany and Austria-Hungary. This achieves the last vital aim for which he has struggled and now that everything has been reduced to calm and routine it is probable that he will soon return to America. The volunteer Attaches, whose duty does not keep them permanently in the diplomatic service, begin to feel that since there is no longer pressing need of their a.s.sistance they must soon return to their several professions and to the peaceful occupations of civil life. They have worked under the inspiring leadership of a man with whom familiarity breeds respect, and have had the honor of knowing him as one knows those only with whom one has pa.s.sed through dark days.

Mr. Herrick has proved himself one of those rare men who are possessed of high ideals and far vision and who at the same time refuse to be impractical.

Lieutenant Donait and I are hoping that we may sometime in the near future have an opportunity to make a trip to Berlin with dispatches.

We should greatly like to see the other side of the war. Lieutenant Donait is one of the military Attaches at the Emba.s.sy with whom I have become particularly friendly.

_Tuesday, October 27th._ I have finished my work with the Germans and Austro-Hungarians and turned over all my affairs in good order. Of the money sent by the German and Austro-Hungarian Governments for their indigent interned subjects, the Emba.s.sy has distributed more than a quarter of a million francs, all of which has pa.s.sed through my hands.

It is a relief to get the accounts balanced and into the charge of the professional bookkeeper whom the secretaries have at last succeeded in engaging.

Lieutenant Donait awaits orders from Washington releasing him from his work at the Emba.s.sy. It has been arranged that as soon as these arrive he and I are to go together to Germany as bearers of official dispatches.

For the interim I have offered my services to the Motor Ambulance Corps of the American Hospital. The existence of this hospital and of its ambulance trains is due to Mr. Herrick's efforts and its creation is one of his greatest diplomatic achievements. Its efficiency, size, and rapid growth have done more to promote friendly relations between France and the United States than any other single factor, excepting only the never-to-be-forgotten fact that the American Emba.s.sy remained in Paris when the Germans were approaching the city. The Ambulance Corps is under the guidance of the Amba.s.sador and it was his energy which pushed it through the political and economic difficulties incidental to its inception.

Both the hospital and its Ambulance Corps are under the immediate direction of a committee of prominent Americans, the executive head of which is Dr. Winchester Dubouchet, who bears the t.i.tle of Surgeon-in-chief. He is a man possessing the rare combination of tact and efficiency. He is thoroughly conversant with the technique of his profession and has in previous wars had large experience with field ambulance service. His ability and skill have proved as important in the organization and running of these inst.i.tutions as were those of Mr. Herrick in their conception.

Under the wise leadership of Dr. Dubouchet, three other men, Mr.

Laurence Benet, Dr. Edmond Gros, and Mr. A. Wellesley Kipling, have been powerful in promoting the phenomenal growth of the Ambulance Corps. Their t.i.tles are, respectively, Chairman of the Transportation Committee, Chief Ambulance Surgeon, and Captain of Ambulances. These gentlemen have worked together unselfishly and indefatigably, and the rapidity with which the manifold difficulties incidental to the construction and organization of automobile ambulance trains have been overcome is due to their untiring efforts.

The corps is now being greatly enlarged and I, as a staff officer, am to a.s.sist in its reorganization. Some twenty-five automobile ambulances are already in service and this number is soon to be increased to sixty or more cars.

There is in general such a lack of adequate service for the wounded that to work with the Ambulance Corps and thus contribute one's mite of helpfulness is almost a duty for any American who can spare even a few weeks of time. When one has seen thousands of wounded, as I saw them at the Battle of the Marne, lying for three and four days in the rain without food, drink, or any medical aid, one is irresistibly driven to do something to diminish such terrible suffering. Many young Americans are feeling the same impulse and volunteers for ambulance service are numerous. Appeals for additional ambulance cars, moreover, have received generous response from America. It is estimated that an ambulance costing $1500 will, before it wears out, carry two thousand wounded to hospitals and help the surgeons to save four hundred lives which otherwise must die from lack of prompt attention.

_Sunday, November 1st._ The last four days have been spent in accomplishing as many as possible of the necessary preliminaries incidental to joining the American Ambulance. They include being vaccinated, certifying whether one has had typhoid, getting measured and fitted for a uniform, being presented to the various officers, going through a lot of formalities leading to the possession of a French chauffeur's license, filling out parentage and enlistment blanks, and getting proper written introductions and identifications.

All these steps have entailed a good deal of rather necessary "red tape," for in war time it is essential to prove every step in order to avoid "mistakes."

The equipment of the members of the corps consists of a khaki uniform of very heavy woolen cloth, a khaki overcoat, a fatigue cap, heavy flannel shirts, a khaki necktie, tan puttees, tan shoes, and a tan slicker. The members of the Ambulance obtain this outfit for the surprisingly small sum of forty-seven dollars, each paying for his own equipment.

At odd moments I have been put through stretcher-drill and given rudimentary first-aid instruction. This afternoon and evening I was sent as an orderly on an ambulance running to the suburban station of Aubervilliers at which trains of wounded make a brief stop on their way from the front to the home hospitals in the south of France. It is from this station that the American Hospital receives its patients, invariably cases whose condition is so grave that they are thought to be incapable of enduring further travel without fatal results.

Upon entering the service of the Ambulance all volunteers, no matter what their ultimate position is to be, are required to attain a certain efficiency and practical knowledge in the actual handling of wounded. I am now taking my turn at this service. One train of ambulances is always stationed in Paris and carries wounded from the Aubervilliers station to the various city hospitals. This train is manned by the latest recruits, who there undergo training, being meanwhile carefully observed by the staff officers. The majority of them prove to be good material, and in from two to six weeks are sent to the front, while those who are not judged to be reliable are replaced by new volunteers. Candidates are not required to agree to any definite length of enlistment but are at liberty to leave whenever they so elect. On the other hand, the chiefs of the Ambulance Corps make no promises to send any volunteer to the front but reserve the right to select only those men who have first proved themselves fit for such great responsibility.

Field ambulances are virtually all alike and as a rule hold four stretchers in two tiers. In front are seats for the driver and his orderly, and behind is a boxlike body eight feet long with wooden roof and floor and canvas sides. From the back of the ambulance a wounded man on his stretcher is slid into place as a bread pan is slid into an oven, the feet of the stretcher running on wooden rails. In starting out to collect the wounded an ambulance carries its full quota of stretchers. When a man is picked up from the field of battle one of these is taken out and he is carefully lifted on it; if he is already lying on a stretcher he is not changed but, in order to save unnecessary suffering, put into the ambulance with the one on which he is already resting,--an empty one being left behind in exchange. In order that this process may always be feasible it is necessary that all stretchers should be interchangeable; the Minister of War has, therefore, decreed that a standard stretcher called "Branquard reglementaire," and no other, must be used throughout the French armies.

As the number of casualties has been overwhelmingly and unexpectedly large, the French have not up to date been able to give proper care to their wounded. It is not uncommon for wounded men _en route_ from the front to be on trains for three and four days, virtually uncared for, and usually without anything to eat. Such trains finally arrive in Paris freighted with death and madness, with gangrene and lockjaw. I today saw two men who had been wounded a month ago and were still in the clothes in which they had fought.

The American Corps keeps ambulances at the Aubervilliers station day and night in relays, so that at any moment not less than two cars are there to receive wounded. Today I was a.s.signed as orderly to an ambulance on the afternoon shift which begins at one o'clock and ends at nine. The receiving station for wounded is a huge express shed about three hundred feet long and sixty feet wide. A railway siding enters through a big door and within runs longitudinally along one wall. A large storage platform occupies the rest of the interior, on which are arranged four parallel benches running nearly the whole length of the shed. Each bench is about seven feet wide and has a slight slope for "drainage." When we arrived all the benches were crowded with wounded, who were packed side by side in four long ghastly rows. They were wrapped up in their clothes--the same old clothes in which they had fought. The French are, apparently, not sure that the Germans may not yet take Paris, for as a rule they do not permit wounded to be sent to that city. Only those who are slightly wounded in the hand or arm and able to walk, or, on the other hand, those too desperately wounded to survive being moved farther, are allowed to remain in Paris. All the others, although they have already taken two or three days to arrive from the front, are allowed only twelve hours "repose" before they are sent on to the south of France.

This "repose" is taken on the benches described above or in similar situations. If the shed is already full and additional trains of wounded arrive, the late comers are left in their cars. Why anyone should consider a train which is standing still more reposeful than one which is moving I cannot imagine. In Paris the wounded at least get something to eat, usually coa.r.s.e bread with meat and cheese. They arrive in those silly little freight cars marked "eight horses," each of which carries about eighteen wounded, twelve on stretchers in two tiers in each end and some six more standing or sitting in the aisle, which extends from door to door between the stretchers.

On arriving at the Aubervilliers station we were on duty all the afternoon, and as no trains happened to arrive this meant standing in the rain and doing nothing at all. After dark, however, three train loads of wounded, each of some fifty cars, came in at intervals of about an hour. The wounded are so many that one counts them by trains and the trains come so often that one loses count even of them. No one who has not seen them can possibly comprehend the human misery contained in one such unit. The first train arrived at five o'clock and brought five hundred cases. They had been two days on the way and had had nothing at all to eat for the last nineteen hours.

Seventy-five of their number were unwounded, but had reached such a state of nervous collapse that they could not endure life in the trenches a minute longer, and had therefore, perforce, been sent to the rear. I could not ascertain just how such cases were handled at the front for the French were reluctant to discuss the matter. Certain it is that the instances must have been numerous, for the punishment usually prescribed in war for such delinquency in the face of the enemy is death before a firing squad. The cases must have been so numerous and the ordeal withstood at the front so terrible that punishment became impracticable. In extenuation it may be pointed out that the French army, like any conscript army, contains every able-bodied man of the nation, a certain proportion of whom are inevitably mentally below par and have been sent to war against their will or inclination. The British are the only ones who have fought night and day from the beginning without relays and seem to thrive on it, a fact chiefly due to their being picked volunteers all of whom are soldiers by choice.

After the first train arrived a number of very desperate cases were immediately sorted out and given to our ambulances. The ambulance upon which I served was the last to leave. We departed at seven o'clock, carrying a lieutenant of Cha.s.seurs Alpins who had had his hand shot off and who showed symptoms of lockjaw, and a little private of infantry, a boy with a delicate refined face, who had a bad gangrenous sh.e.l.l wound in the right thigh. His leg was rotting away in a most frightful manner. He was delirious and as weak as a kitten. He imagined he was a little child again and that his mother was causing him all the pain he suffered. He moaned to her reproachfully. We picked our way as slowly and carefully as possible, never making more than four miles an hour and actually avoiding every projecting stone and cobble. In spite of our efforts, our charges suffered frightfully and the delirious boy made this evident in a way which cast a silent spell upon the streets through which we pa.s.sed. We went up over Montmartre and along the Boulevard Clichy, famous "wicked" street of Paris, because the road surfaces happened to be somewhat smoother. As we went we left behind us a trail of the intangible, all-permeating, sickly-sweetish odor of gangrene.