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 COPmiGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
My Galahad of the Trenches 
 
Lieutenant Vinton Adams Bearing. 
 Bom, January 2, 1896. Killed in Action, July 18, 191 
 
My Galahad 
 
 of the Trenches 
 
 Being a Collection of Intimate Letters of 
 LIEUT. VINTON A. BEARING 
 
 New York Chicago 
 
 Fleming H. Revell Company 
 
 London and Edinburgh 
 
Copyright, 1918, by 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 13 
 
 ^< 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 JAN I7!9!3 
 
 New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
 Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. 
 London : 2 1 Paternoster Square 
 Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street 
 
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 (P>.p.\ AT. 1 2 OR 6 
 
Dedicated to Mothers 
 
 who have given their sons to fight and die 
 for the highest ideals of faith and truths 
 and who for the sake of their heroes and 
 the cause for which these young heroes 
 gave their lives must keep a good hearty 
 be of good courage and ^^ keep smiling ^^ 
 
Extract of Gen. Pershing^s Commu- 
 nique of August 26, 1918. 
 
 Lt. Vinton A. Bearing : ** detailed in 
 command of a carrying party on 28th of 
 May, 1 918, near Cantigny, France, he 
 bravely proceeded under fire to execute his 
 mission, and by his example of bravery 
 heartened his men who were under fire for 
 the first time. On 29th of May, 19 18, he 
 took his party through heavy shelling to 
 carry ammunition to the front lines without 
 being ordered to do so." 
 
 For this Lieutenant Dearing 
 was awarded the Distinguished 
 Service Cross posthumously by 
 Gen. Pershing. 
 
Introduction 
 
 THESE letters from my Galahad of 
 the trenches were not written for 
 publication. They were written to 
 me, his mother, and to two or three of his 
 friends, in all the privacy and intimacy of 
 very deep and wonderful relationships. 
 
 My reason for giving them to the world 
 is that they may bless the mothers of sons 
 over-seas who may read them, and may 
 perhaps teach some would-be soldiers the 
 articulate expression of love. For like a 
 golden thread through them all, runs the 
 love of a high-hearted soldier who went 
 forth to do battle for his mother and all 
 who meant so much to him, and gladly gave 
 all for his ideals. It is just that quality in 
 these letters that makes them shine like stars 
 on a dark night, in this sick and sorry time. 
 
 In order that the letters may be under- 
 stood and appreciated, I must give a little 
 9 
 
10 INTEODUCTION 
 
 sketch of the life, which, though ended at 
 twenty-two, has touched and blessed in three 
 continents every one whom my boy met. 
 
 Vinton Adams Dearing was born in Yoko- 
 hama, Japan. There he lived until he was 
 sixteen, except for two furloughs in Boston — 
 the first time when he was three, and again 
 when he was twelve. At our home in 
 Yokohama where we lived on the edge of 
 the East, and where his father was a well- 
 known man in educational and religious 
 circles, Vinton and his elder brother Henry 
 met, constantly, men and women of culture 
 and high purpose from all over the world. 
 They were never excluded from the dinner- 
 table where questions of great moment in 
 eastern matters were daily discussed. So 
 they grew up in an atmosphere of world- 
 wide vision and cosmopolitan interests. But 
 more than that ; in the sweetness of the 
 family life, in intimate, loving communion 
 with their father and mother, around the 
 open fire, or on the sweet, sunny lawn of our 
 home, at 75 Blufi, in the house or garden, at 
 play, study or work, they drew in with every 
 breath the wonderful love of home and 
 
INTEODUCTION 11 
 
 family, and the expression of that love, that 
 comes out so plainly in these letters from 
 Vinton. 
 
 I used to think that Vinton was the most 
 adorable little child in the world. He gave 
 out affection as naturally as the sun gives 
 out light. His dear red head was never far 
 from his mother if he were in the house, and 
 his expressions of affection were unending. 
 His love showed itself in constant thought- 
 fulness. A dozen times a day, his eager 
 young voice would be heard calling up the 
 stairs, " Anything I can do for you, mother 
 dear? " ** Any errand I can go on for you, 
 father?" Little love notes were sent up- 
 stairs by the amah as surprises. Or I would 
 find a litde love-token pinned to my cushion, 
 and the pet names and expressions he used 
 filled my soul with joy. He was none the 
 less a real boy, loving play, having scraps 
 with his elder brother, throwing himself into 
 competition and sports with all his heart, but 
 never forgetting the tenderer, sweeter, gentler 
 things of life. He was full of fun, also— the 
 kind that makes fun for other boys, and yet 
 through it all, always a gentleman with de- 
 
12 INTEODUCTION 
 
 lightful manners and a quiet reserve which 
 never left him. 
 
 At sixteen he came home from Japan to 
 join his elder brother at Colgate University, 
 leaving an empty place in our home which 
 we tried to fill with precious memories of 
 him. His letters during his four years of 
 college life showed the boy growing into a 
 man, reaching out to high ideals of leader- 
 ship and service, yet always in his own esti- 
 mation falling short of the goal he had set. 
 
 Those letters were very precious to us, for 
 though Vinton was a quiet boy and developed 
 slowly, we realized that he had in him the 
 making of an unusual man — that he was be- 
 ing prepared for some great work in the 
 world. He entered into college life with all 
 his heart, loving his books, his sports, his 
 fraternity-life and his friendships. Every one 
 loved him, for his gentle sweetness and his 
 great sincerity and truth. It was during 
 these college days that he earned the name I 
 have used in the title of my little book — *' Sir 
 Galahad." Over and over again women 
 who knew him, girls who associated with him, 
 quite unconscious that any one had ever 
 
INTEODUCTION 13 
 
 called him by this name, would dub him 
 "Sir Galahad." His knightly quaUties of 
 soul and his gentle deference and thoughtful 
 attentions to all women placed him in the 
 Hall of King Arthur's Knights — the most 
 knightly of them all. 
 
 We came home from Japan in 1916 and 
 joined our sons at Colgate, startled and de- 
 lighted at the change in the boys we had not 
 seen for four and six years respectively. 
 Vinton was a junior, Hal just graduating. 
 The months that followed were full of start- 
 ling events. First, our eldest son was sent to 
 London in training for banking in the Far 
 East. The boys' beloved father was taken 
 from us while giving a course of lectures at 
 Colgate University. Then, when Vinton felt 
 he was his mother's mainstay, came the 
 gathering of the war clouds. I knew my boy 
 well enough to know he would want to enlist, 
 but with all my heart I rebelled. I had not 
 as yet risen to my privilege and duty. I tried 
 to anticipate what I knew was coming, by 
 asking him not to enlist before telling me. 
 Later I begged him if he felt he must go, to 
 go as a Y. M. C. A. worker or to enter 
 
14 INTEODUCTION 
 
 into some safe Government work on this 
 side. 
 
 But there came a day when I realized my 
 mistake. One morning early in May I took 
 up my pen, and with the tears rolling down 
 my cheeks wrote, — ** My darling Vinton : I 
 want you to go, and you go with my bless- 
 ing. Mother." I had not put the letter into 
 its envelope when the bell rang, and there 
 in my doorway stood my great, tall boy, 
 with his suit-case in his hand and a new look 
 of heroic determination on his face. " Oh, 
 Vinton," I said, ** this means just one thing." 
 " Yes, mother," he replied, *' I had to." For 
 answer I put the little note, which was not 
 even yet dry, into his hand. There was no 
 need of any further words between us. So 
 college days were over and my precious boy 
 left the kind of life he loved, and turning his 
 back on home and mother, went away to 
 camp to become a soldier. I will not speak 
 of the hurt in my heart except to say that it 
 was very deep and very keen, for I had not 
 then learned to be a soldier*s mother. I will 
 not speak of disappointed hopes, for we three 
 who were left had planned a home in the Far 
 
INTEODUCTIOH 16 
 
 East as nearly like the dear old home of the 
 boys* childhood as possible, and our dreams 
 were shattered. 
 
 Vinton was sent to Madison Barracks in 
 the R. O. T. C. The letters from camp 
 were very interesting. Like most Ameri- 
 can boys, he had never had any military 
 training, and I fancy it took him some time 
 to attain a military air, but whatever he 
 undertook he did with the determination to 
 win out, so his three months at Madison Bar- 
 racks developed him into a soldier. Most of 
 the men were college men, and Vinton often 
 wrote that it was more like an intercollegiate 
 meet than a camp. He was very happy at 
 first, but as the end of camp approached and 
 scores of men were being rejected each day, 
 his agitation lest he too be sent home was in- 
 tense. The result was not what he hoped. 
 He was recommended for the second camp, 
 and after a blissful week together at his 
 aunt's beautiful home by the sea, he went to 
 Fort Niagara to complete his training, feeling 
 more confident of himself, and with the same 
 dogged determination to win out. This was 
 the second parting. 
 
16 INTEODUCTION 
 
 At Fort Niagara he was especially trained 
 in leadership, and through his letters I could 
 see how high an ideal he had set before him. 
 Donald Hankey's " Beloved Captain " he read 
 and reread, and those high standards en- 
 tered into his soul. In November he got his 
 commission. He was given his choice of a 
 Second Lieutenantcy Infantry, in the Regular 
 Army, or a First in the Reserves. He chose 
 the former, though it meant going over seas 
 perhaps at once. When my new officer son 
 came home from his second camp I went into 
 the South Station to meet him. It was early 
 morning and in his grand new uniform and 
 overcoat, he looked to my proud eyes the 
 most wonderful officer in the whole United 
 States Army! The first question I put to 
 him as he sat eating breakfast in the South 
 Station restaurant was, " To what camp will 
 you be sent now, Vinton ? " His answer so 
 unexpected and terrifying sent a shudder 
 right through me. But I smiled back into 
 his loving, tender eyes, though my heart was 
 breaking, as he answered : " To an embarka- 
 tion camp, mother dear." 
 
 Then for five exquisite weeks we had our 
 
INTEODUCTIOK 17 
 
 soldier at home and what a precious time it 
 was ! We did not talk of the parting, we 
 lived in the joy of a glorious comradeship. 
 Every day was a red-letter day from dawn to 
 close, and at the end, no matter how late, he 
 would come and lie down on my couch for a 
 quiet half hour's talk before he went to bed. 
 We shopped for his equipment, like two 
 young things buying household furniture. 
 We teaed and supped at funny litde restau- 
 rants in town. We made many calls to- 
 gether. Vinton, like all officers on leave, 
 was feted and admired by his girl friends, 
 and the evenings were often spent at parties 
 which gave him the touch of gaiety he had 
 been without at camp. But best of all were 
 the delightful times by our glowing fire with 
 a few friends, sometimes alone, but always 
 gloriously happy in each other. In both our 
 minds was the spectre of the parting, but we 
 spoke of it not at all, and one morning, 
 gloomy and dark and wet, a little party of 
 four motored into the South Station to bid 
 him "good-bye." We had promised our- 
 selves not to weep, although that clutch at 
 the heart was stifling us. 
 
18 INTRODUCTION 
 
 We had had our last talk at home, and the 
 last big hugs that were too big for any one 
 else to see. There was grandmother who 
 begged to go and promised not to shed a 
 tear ; there were his two best girl friends and 
 his mother. We stood in a little group try- 
 ing to be gay, and succeeding. Then the 
 last long kiss, and we watched our tall sol- 
 dier glide out of that dusky, dirty station, 
 and saw his wonderful smile illumine all its 
 darkness, and knew he was going forth to 
 battle for us, and turned away, and let our 
 breaking hearts have their way. But he 
 went with his mother's smile, and over and 
 over he has told of his appreciation and 
 gratitude. 
 
 How well it is we do not know the future 1 
 I believed with all my soul that my boy 
 would come back to me even as he went, 
 beautiful as the morning, strong with the 
 strength of ten, a glorious soldier, my Gala- 
 had, my love-child. But he lies in sunny 
 France, and a little wooden cross marks his 
 resting-place, and next spring the poppies 
 will grow on his grave, and he is not coming 
 back. 
 
INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 In writing this sketch I feel it will not be 
 complete without a word of loving apprecia- 
 tion of the father of this remarkable boy. 
 Dr. John Lincoln Dearing, whose name is 
 revered and loved throughout the Far East 
 as a ** great missionary statesman," and as 
 the " Apostle of Cooperation," lived and died 
 so heroically and gloriously that it is little 
 wonder that his son was the hero that he 
 proved. The same strength of character, 
 the same mighty soul living for his ideals 
 and dying in the carrying out of those ideals, 
 the same indomitable purpose, and the same 
 broad conception of duty, these are seen in 
 the son as in the father. The missionary 
 father won no decorative cross from his 
 Commander, yet in a very real and definite 
 way he bore the cross for twenty-seven years 
 in Japan, and he won the victor's crown as 
 truly as did the son win his Cross on the field 
 of honor. 
 
 It is the spirit of the old motto of *' No- 
 blesse oblige^^ that worked out in my two 
 heroes. They both died as they had lived — 
 victoriously. And Vinton crowded into his 
 six months in France as much as would or- 
 
20 INTEODUCTION 
 
 dinarily be crowded into a lifetime. A boy 
 of twenty-two, recommended by his Major, 
 cited by Major- General Bullard, chosen as 
 one of the staff officers in the great Bastile 
 Day parade, awarded the Distinguished 
 Service Cross by General Pershing, placed 
 among the '* heroes of the great war," — such 
 is his record. The day before he fell in the 
 second battle of the Marne, on the Paris-Sois- 
 sons road, July i8th, the great day of victory, 
 the turning-point in the whole war for free- 
 dom, I received his last cabled message. It 
 came from the glowing soul of a valiant 
 hero, mindful to the last of her whom 
 he loved. It simply said, "Keep smiling. 
 Love." 
 
 Mary Hinckley Dearing. 
 
My Galahad of the 
 Trenches 
 
 HIS LETTERS 
 
 At Sea. 
 Dearest Mother : 
 
 After two days of being seasick, and 
 you know what that means, I am beginning 
 to feel much better. I don't know whether 
 it was the vacation or what that made my 
 stomach so susceptible. We have a fine 
 bunch of officers on board of whom I know 
 ten or eleven. The average American of- 
 ficer we meet is what Coningsby Dawson 
 calls a " civilian in uniform." 
 
 Yes, we are really on our way, and it was 
 a strange sensation as we left port to see the 
 faces of the different men, pardy wistful, 
 partly eager, with the knowledge that they 
 were really starting. And then there was 
 the small group of people to see us off, just 
 rough workmen and steamship agents, and 
 
 21 
 
22 MY GALAHAD 
 
 yet there was an expression in their faces 
 that will remain in my mind a long time as 
 they waved good-bye, especially one man, a 
 one-armed guard, who saluted and smiled at 
 me as the boat slowly drifted out. Then 
 there was the confusion of getting our state- 
 rooms and meeting the men, but as yet we 
 haven't found out much about each other, 
 due to the fact that we were not in condition 
 to do so. When we came opposite Boston, 
 how I wished I could fly there and say good- 
 morning. I could see you and grandmother 
 having breakfast and including me in the 
 blessing. I do need it, and more and more 
 as the days go by. I have a wonderful month 
 to remember, however, and it will always 
 stand by me, especially the last two nights 
 when Louise and Peggy and we two alone 
 were there respectively. How perfectly won- 
 derful you were to me all through my va- 
 cation I You were far too good. I have 
 been reading from Tennyson on board — tell 
 Peggy this — and 1 wrote you about Louise 
 sending a copy of Browning to me, didn't I ? 
 Oh, think, I shall have to go days now with- 
 out a letter from you, but the very fact that 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 23 
 
 you are thinking of me is encouragement in 
 itself. A fact like this doesn't have to be 
 written, I know, although it is nice to say it 
 in writing. I do a lot of thinking about you, 
 and I am so glad I had all that long period 
 at Cambridge with you. It is strange the 
 different sensations you have as you arrive 
 at different stages of the game, but one thing, 
 I have no qualms of conscience, and I did 
 have them at college occasionally when I 
 felt I was not getting enough out of it to 
 make it worth fathers paying his money for 
 me. Now I feel I got the best out of college 
 except that I was too protected and did not 
 come into contact with the rougher element, 
 a thing I shall have to learn now. I am just 
 as proud of you as I can be. You surely 
 were a wonderful mother to let me go the 
 way you did. I hope you can see me come 
 back some day with my Sam Browne belt 
 on, some stripes and a change in rank, who 
 knows. Our boat is dark at night, the port- 
 holes are closed, smoking is prohibited, and 
 the salon shaded with blue lights, almost 
 dark enough to prohibit reading and almost 
 everything else. It is going to be a hard 
 
24 MY GALAHAD 
 
 struggle, but I have absolute faith in the 
 final outcome. It is great to be living in 
 this age and to be in the midst of it. The 
 thing now is to be a counting force rather 
 than a "shave-tail" lieutenant. Thus our 
 ambitions increase ; at first just the thought 
 of enlisting, then of getting a commission, 
 then of getting to France, and now of doing 
 something in the struggle that may be worth 
 while. How is grandmother ? Give her my 
 best love. Tell her I think a great deal 
 about her, and tell her she has got to keep 
 just as young and good-looking as ever, so 
 when I get back we can go to see another 
 play together. And I know you will do it 
 for my sake and you will not worry about 
 dangers, for I may not be in them and you 
 know it is worry that makes you grow old. 
 I have had some serious talks with fellows I 
 am most intimate with and it helps me to 
 get another^s view-points of matters, espe- 
 cially their ideas as to how they will come in 
 contact with men under them. I must close 
 with heaps of love. 
 
 Always your 
 
 Vinton. 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 26 
 
 At Sea. 
 Dear Peggy : 
 
 I am going to take advantage of you 
 right from the start, and so this will be a con- 
 tinuous letter to the end of our journey when- 
 ever I feel like writing. Oh, how many 
 things flood my mind, especially when I walk 
 out on the deck alone, and all is dark except 
 for the light of the moon shining down full 
 and strong. Then I think of Cambridge and 
 mother and you, and maybe I wish I were 
 there a little bit too. I begin to see things 
 in a strangely different light from what I used 
 to, and yet I am so blind to some things. 
 My eyes are in a way untrained to see 
 things, to see the under-currents where the 
 water runs evenly along. I am always too 
 willing to be satisfied with the oiled surface. 
 In a way it saves you a lot, but it isn't the 
 best or most wholesome. I have done a 
 great deal of thinking since I have been on 
 board, and I realize I have a long way to go 
 before I am prepared to take charge of a 
 group of men in a life and death matter. 
 But I feel that my heart is right, and that 
 goes a long way. It is the daily thoughts 
 
26 MY GALAHAD 
 
 we think that insure us victory or defeat, 
 and I begin to realize that more and more 
 strongly. What a wonderful thing our mind 
 is and how easily we tamper with it and get 
 it out of order without the slightest regard to 
 the fact that some day in a storfn that mental 
 compass of ours may guide us safely through, 
 or we may have got it so out of gear that we 
 are dashed upon the rocks. You wouldn't 
 think it, but I am sitting on deck in a steamer 
 chair with the boat rolling quite a little, but 
 feeling fit. Your little Tennyson has been 
 a Godsend, and others have asked to bor- 
 row it already. I love it for its own sake 
 and a great deal more because you gave it 
 to me. 
 
 You don't know how glad I am that I am 
 here, that I really may be of some value, and 
 the only way is to be master of all the differ- 
 ent branches of service. I have thought 
 often and often of mother on this voyage. I 
 hope she hasn't worried unduly. She is a 
 wonderful mother. I feel so proud of her 
 that she sent me off as she did. Give my 
 regards to all the family. As I look over 
 this vast ocean I see you and others back 
 
OF THE TEEKCHBS 27 
 
 of me and it gives me a feeling of do or 
 
 die. 
 
 Lovingly your brother, 
 
 Pink. 
 
 Somewhere in France, February 3. 
 Dearest Mother : 
 
 I haven't reached my final destination 
 yet but I am on my way, and in the mean- 
 time living through lots of strange and last- 
 ing experiences. The farther you go into it 
 the more you realize the meaning of this 
 war, and the fine uniforms gradually grow 
 less important. Here you see tall troopers 
 in stained uniforms loaded down with gas 
 masks and other paraphernalia, but they 
 come up with snappy salutes, which is more 
 than you can say of those you see on Fifth 
 Avenue or Boylston Street. Last night some 
 English officers passed through straight from 
 the front, and it was quite a sight to see our 
 fellows gather in little groups about each of 
 these war-worn veterans and listen to their 
 words of wisdom. They had some pretty 
 interesting tales to tell. Coming across the 
 channel was the coldest night I ever spent. 
 We had no beds and one very small cabin 
 
28 MY GALAHAD 
 
 which was piled full of officers. There was 
 no sleeping, and most of us suffered from the 
 cold up on deck, but that is just one of the 
 things that build up our experiences. We 
 came over with all kinds of troops. There 
 were Australians and English and Americans 
 and lots of others. Just to hear them talk is 
 great. Here in the officers' lounging room, 
 half full now with English, half with Ameri- 
 cans, it is a remarkable sight. You are con- 
 stantly in my thoughts and heaps of love go 
 in this letter to you. 
 
 February 4. 
 Peggy dear : 
 
 You can't imagine under what strange 
 circumstances we have been living the last 
 few days. My impressions of France cer- 
 tainly are different from what I expected them 
 to be. You see travelling the way we do we 
 have the worst side of the country displayed 
 to us, and I imagine we reciprocate equally. 
 I spent a few wonderful moments, however, 
 when we stopped at a certain town, in an 
 old cathedral. They were having service 
 there and the choir was chanting. We wan- 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 29 
 
 dered around and were in a new world for a 
 few minutes. Every one is in mourning 
 here, and every man is in uniform. The 
 French country is beautiful from a train 
 window, but after travelling a day or two in 
 the same little compartment and eating 
 tinned stufT in the same place, it loses its 
 power to interest us and we realize how dirty 
 we are. Just as in a novel one chapter after 
 another gradually brings you nearer the final 
 plot of the story, what the final outcome will 
 be is yet to be solved. Believe me I realize 
 what some of the things are that I am run- 
 ning up against, and it is such an easy matter 
 to calm your conscience over here. I begin 
 to see where a man has to really do some 
 mental fighting, but I shall try to be a help, 
 for I have people like mother who expects 
 great things of me. Here I am using you 
 already, but you have been a tremendous 
 help in more ways than you can realize. 
 Our real work will begin now in a very short 
 time, I imagine. I don't know what it will 
 be but I am eager to get into it. 
 
 Always your fond brother, 
 
 Pink. 
 
30 MY GALAHAD 
 
 February i8. 
 Dear Louise : 
 
 There are so many things I would 
 like to write you, but I can't because I censor 
 my letters. To me one of the saddest sights 
 that I have seen was yesterday when with 
 bugles blowing the 1919 class of the town we 
 were in marched down the street locked arm 
 in arm, with streamers of red, white and blue 
 pinned to them, and the words, ** Bons pour 
 la service," showing that they were good for 
 service. There were so many who seemed 
 so young, and yet that is the fortune of war. 
 Your socks have been perfectly wonderful, 
 for wool socks are the only thing a fellow 
 can wear here. When I gave them to my 
 French laundress I told her you made them 
 for me, and that she must be very careful of 
 them. She beamed all over and said, ** Oui, 
 oui, je comprends." She has a little daugh- 
 ter called Pollette and I take her candy. 
 She is the cunningest litde thing. Her father 
 was on leave the last time I was there, and 
 he is a typical soldier. The poor man had 
 to come to attention and salute when I en- 
 tered his own house, yet we don't look much 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 31 
 
 like officers, spattered with mud most of the 
 time and in old uniforms, but we are not on 
 any pink teas over here and we realize it. I 
 hope I can get to the front shortly. We are 
 always hoping. I wish I could spend the 
 afternoon at the Colonial with you, having 
 tea and dancing, or tea beside the hearth. I 
 Hke to look back to that and the nights when 
 I went home with you. 
 
 Always your brother, 
 
 Vinton. 
 P. S. We have a song which runs as 
 follows : 
 
 '* I want to go home 
 No longer to roam. 
 The bullets they whistle, 
 The cannons they roar. 
 I don't want to go to the trenches no more, 
 I want to go over the sea 
 Where the Allemands can't get at me. 
 Oh, my ! I am too young to die, 
 I want to go home." 
 
 Don't take it to heart. The fellows don't 
 want to go back now if they could until the 
 thing is over, and then won't we enjoy the 
 comforts of home! Until then I can only 
 say as the Frenchmen do, '* Bon courage." 
 
32 MY GALAHAD 
 
 February 20. 
 Dearest darling Mother : 
 
 You are taking the best care of your- 
 self, mother dear, aren't you? For it is to 
 you I am coming back and it is to hear your 
 words of love that I am looking forward, 
 and waiting for that day, and it is for that 
 that I shall do my best work here and make 
 myself of use. So don't you see you must 
 keep up your end and keep perfectly well, 
 and don't let other people's sadnesses sadden 
 you too much. You have such a wonderful 
 heart I know you can't help it. My French 
 isn't improving much, for which I am very 
 sorry. I haven't any time to study it, and 
 little time to practice. Outside of the stores 
 I hardly have a chance to talk to any one. 
 The country all around here is wonderful, but 
 we are losing our sense of the artistic. Lots 
 of little villages are scattered around like 
 bunches of pebbles, much more so than in 
 England. Do you remember that beautiful 
 ride from London to Edinburgh? What 
 wonderful travels we have had together, and 
 yet when we get down to it along what 
 different lines our minds are running. That 
 
OP THE TEENCHES 33 
 
 is the psychological point of view. That is 
 why I don't care for psychology when it 
 makes plain realities give the lie to our 
 dreams. Heaps of love for yourself and 
 grandmother. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 February 22. 
 Sister Peggy dear: 
 
 You can't guess what I have just been 
 doing — rereading for the sixteenth time those 
 three letters I received from you in New 
 York, and, Peggy, I can't thank you enough 
 for them. I am so glad that you are near 
 my wonderful mother, for sometimes when I 
 think how much father meant to her and 
 how lonely she must be without him, I 
 should worry a lot but for you, and, Peggy, 
 you are just so wonderful I know you will be 
 a tremendous blessing to her. We men 
 here get to living from one day to another. 
 We don't try to solve the future or worry 
 about what we are to do, but I know that 
 way down deep is that thought of the mo- 
 ment when the returning soldier comes 
 
34 MY GALAHAD 
 
 home. Some of them, I am afraid, will be 
 disappointed, and some, when they return, 
 will not find conditions as they expect, but 
 to me the greatest thing I can think of is to 
 get back to mother, and to see you again, 
 and in the meantime your little compass, 
 symbolic of so much I have since come to 
 understand, will guide me, and I shall be 
 careful not to let any lode-stone attract the 
 needle out of the true course. I think you 
 will understand the symbols I am talking in, 
 and perhaps you did when you gave me the 
 compass. A bunch of homesick, hungry 
 fellows gather about the mantel each day 
 and jam each other in an endeavor to look 
 over the mail. Some one yells, " Only the 
 same old papers," but every one feels there 
 might have been one in that bunch acciden- 
 tally overlooked, for him, so the jam re- 
 mains until the bell rings for dinner, and we 
 pile into the mess hall, and forget the long- 
 ing for a letter in comparing notes on the 
 morning's work or perform the soldier's 
 eternal trick in kicking about something or 
 somebody. I am just as pleased as I can be 
 with Tennyson. I read it week-ends, for at 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 35 
 
 night all my work is done by candle. This 
 isn't a newsy letter but there is so little I can 
 write about. France is France, and that is 
 about all I can say of it. 
 
 With love from your brother, 
 
 Pink. 
 
 March 2. 
 
 Dearest Mother: 
 
 To-day is Sunday and I imagine you 
 are going down to church with grandmother. 
 How I would like to be with you ! I suppose 
 it will be about Easter time when you re- 
 ceive this, so my Easter greetings go with 
 this. Isn't it true what a large part in our 
 lives anticipation plays ? Here we are with 
 no idea of what is coming next, yet we are 
 all looking forward to it just because of its 
 vagueness, and there isn't a man here who 
 doesn't anticipate returning home. When I 
 see some of the fellows here who have given 
 up pretty fine business occupations, what I 
 did was easy in comparison, for mine came 
 right at a time when it meant very little sac- 
 rifice to me, nothing lost except time, which, 
 however, is a wonderfully valuable thing, but 
 
36 MY GALAHAD 
 
 what is time so long as you are living and 
 doing what you feel is in a right cause ! 
 Give my love to grandmother and the rest of 
 the family, and give Tippy an extra dose of 
 " kitty salmon." You know father is a 
 tremendous inspiration to me here. I keep 
 thinking what he would think, and it helps 
 me a lot. I begin to see values more than 
 ever, so I am trying by deeds to be an ex- 
 ample, not words, for words are so easy that 
 the fellow who talks good here is not the 
 fellow who is particularly popular or influen- 
 tial. You are my wonderful mother, and 
 those little snap-shots I have of you all show 
 you as my cheery, smiling, darling mother. 
 I know you will continue to smile and cheer 
 the world up, no matter what happens, for 
 just the picture of your smiling face has 
 cheered more than one of my friends around 
 
 here. 
 
 Ever so lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 March 5. 
 Dear Sister Peggy : 
 
 It is very seldom that I get at all lone- 
 some over here and then it is because I have 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 37 
 
 not done as well as I might, but my heart is 
 in the States. Occasionally I think how 
 much Hal is doing, and others I know, in a 
 constructive way, and here I am trying my 
 best to be destructive, and invent every pos- 
 sible method of destroying, not only works 
 of human hands but the human hands them- 
 selves. Well, you know enough of my na- 
 ture to know what I think. I just have to 
 pass that over, and think of the cause and 
 necessity, the fact that we are protecting the 
 people in the States from an attack by the 
 Boche. Your little compass has done won- 
 ders this week, and though it has not saved 
 lives yet it has saved reputations, and the 
 time will come when it may be called upon 
 to save life. Don't let mother talk too much 
 about me. If I were one hundred thou- 
 sandth part as good as she would like to 
 make me out, I would be superhuman. 
 There are lots of other men here in France 
 besides myself, so it is not a lonely job, and 
 it isn't one we suffer from, unless you get 
 wounded, and then the possibility is that you 
 get a slight scratch or you never know what 
 hit you. I don't wonder a man uses his 
 
38 MY GALAHAD 
 
 Bible over here, and yet as I heard a woman 
 in the States say, a religion to which men 
 run by being frightened to death isn't the 
 religion you want, you want the real thing. 
 We get the real thing here as regards un- 
 covering what men are made of. We all 
 have our petty failures, but whether we have 
 the stuff that stands under real strain proves 
 in the end. May your brother have this 
 when the time comes. 
 
 March 6. 
 Dearest of Wonderful Mothers : 
 
 Seven letters reached me to-day, and 
 absolutely I am the happiest boy in France. 
 I never knew what two months without mail 
 meant until I got these. I feel as I did after 
 you and Peggy made that wonderful visit to 
 Fort Niagara, almost uncontrollable, and I 
 look around and pity the rest of the fellows. 
 They have received mail, but not such letters 
 as you can write. Two from you, two from 
 Peggy, two from Hal and one from Aunt 
 Annie ! I am absolutely a multi-millionaire 
 to-night, happier than any of them, and now 
 if I can stop long enough from my raving. 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 39 
 
 I'll begin to answer your letters. I think 
 having a piano is a corking thing. I wish I 
 were there to hear you play some of the 
 things I used to love when I was little, and 
 had no thought of the army. As for your- 
 self, you are the bravest of the brave. I 
 know in a little way how much you suffer in 
 the loss of dear father. When I w^as at 
 Colgate before the week at Clifton Springs 
 and had an inkling of the possible, I remem- 
 ber going over the question, " What would 
 you do without father ? " It didn't seem pos- 
 sible, and yet things have to happen. I 
 thoroughly believe that God has a way of 
 working things out for the best, and though 
 lots of us have to suffer in our own individual 
 way, it is all for the best. Your son is just 
 as proud of you as he can be, and all of my 
 friends and yours tell of that wonderful smile 
 of yours " lighting up the dark and crowded 
 subway" as Aunt Annie puts it. Work is 
 awfully interesting and of the type that makes 
 you sleep pretty soundly at night. 
 Always lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
40 MY GALAHAD 
 
 March lo. 
 Dear Louise : 
 
 I am not exactly homesick, but I do 
 wish I were back in the States this Sunday 
 morning. It reminds me of that Sunday 
 when you and mother and grandmother and 
 I went down to church together. I haven't 
 been to church since I left the States, there 
 being none to go to, and there also not being 
 an over-sufficiency of time. I had a letter 
 from mother the other day and she wrote 
 how beautifully you played the piano. I 
 have heard one piano since I left the ship. 
 The other night we happened to run across 
 a fellow playing, and a little chap, who 
 played girls' parts in college-shows, danced 
 with me a little. It seemed funny even to 
 dance with a fellow. We are waiting orders 
 now, and we have learned to do it calmly 
 without any excitement as to what, where or 
 when. I often read my Browning, and I do 
 enjoy it so much. Do you remember com- 
 ing back from Peter Ibbetson ? You were so 
 funny, and you certainly had your way every 
 time, didn't you ? I wish you could feed me 
 a chocolate now. I mustn't make matters 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 41 
 
 worse for me here than they are by thinking 
 
 of those wonderful days. And now with 
 
 love for my dear little sister, this letter goes. 
 
 Always your brother, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 Company G, 28th Infantry, 
 
 March 11. 
 Dearest of Mothers : 
 
 From the above you will see that my 
 schooling days are over, and that I am as- 
 signed to troops and real troops at that, men 
 who have been here in training for months. 
 My heart goes out to you and I long to hold 
 you in my arms, for I love you so much. 
 We are feeling fine, and as for food, the 
 nearer we get to the front the better it is. 
 There is almost a continuous hum of aero- 
 planes over our heads, and we are coming in 
 contact with Missouri mules here. We carry 
 gas masks slung across our shoulders, and as 
 for appearance you would never pick me out 
 for an officer. My thermos flask has been of 
 great benefit, also my bedding roll. We are 
 beginning to get real war now. The Amer- 
 icans show up wonderfully, — a bunch to be 
 
42 MY GALAHAD 
 
 proud of. Believe me, I have been eating. I 
 can stow away more ** slum and punk and 
 Java" than I would have thought could be 
 eaten by five men. Give my love to grand- 
 mother. I must close and try to send this off. 
 Heaps of love, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 March ii. 
 Dear Peggy : 
 
 One of the fellows was pretty blue, 
 and so he talked it all out to me to-night. 
 You know I think it helps if you can tell 
 some one who at least appears to be inter- 
 ested. If I can be a little help in this way I 
 feel it is accomplishing something. It is 
 pretty hard for some of these boys over here. 
 You would laugh if you could see me wear- 
 ing a silver bracelet around, and yet that is 
 my identification tag. I have my name, 
 rank and organization engraved upon it ; so 
 with bracelet, wrist-watch, and Beta ring, I 
 would be a sight for sore eyes in pre-war 
 days. One thing I can truthfully say, and 
 that is I have no regret for any of the steps 
 I have taken since I started in at this war 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 43 
 
 game, except that I might have studied a 
 little harder. Sometimes I find myself grow- 
 ing careless, however. I say to myself, " Oh, 
 well, you are up with the highest in the 
 group. You are doing pretty well, old top," 
 and then I realize that with my college edu- 
 cation I ought to be there anyhow, and ought 
 to be higher. Litde sister, it means a lot to 
 me to know that some one occasionally 
 thinks about me out here, for I feel sure that 
 you do. Of course it means more than I 
 could ever write on paper, especially when it 
 is some one I feel I have such a wonderful 
 relation with as with you. I must hurry off 
 to my trundle now as next week holds plenty 
 of stiff work. So good-night, dear sister 
 
 Peggy. 
 
 Pink. 
 
 March 28. 
 
 Dearest and most Wonderful 
 OF Mothers : 
 
 I love to think of you with your in- 
 spiring smile doing so much good and help- 
 ing so many people. But I know you are, 
 way down deep, waiting for the day when I 
 will come home, and that is what I care most 
 
44 MY GALAHAD 
 
 about. But in the meantime there are such 
 tremendous things to be done that our little 
 personalities sink into nothingness. Things 
 are so great here there is no place for small 
 things, and yet the small things each have 
 to be accomplished, for that is the way great 
 things result. The weather is bright and 
 sunshiny in the daytime, and at night my 
 sleeping bag is the biggest comfort ever. 
 Just heaps and heaps of love go in this let- 
 ter, and remember we are all cheerful over 
 here and we send home just as much as we 
 can. This letter is brimful of it. Especially 
 next Sunday, Easter Sunday, I shall be 
 thinking of you and eating imaginary hot- 
 cross buns with you. 
 
 With heaps and heaps of love, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 April 4. 
 Dearest Sister Peggy : 
 
 I am just now at the turning point 
 
 where I will either make good or fail, and I 
 
 am relying on you and the others to back 
 
 me up mentally. Letters may not be regular 
 
 now, but don't let mother worry. I know 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 45 
 
 you are doing everything in your power to 
 cheer her up, and I thank you from the 
 bottom of my heart and love you the more 
 for it. I am hoping to give her reason for 
 being prouder than ever for one of those 
 stars in the window. Oh, Peggy, what 
 would I give to sit on that divan in front of 
 the fire, and see you sit there with your feet 
 tucked up under you and talk with you 1 
 Now I begin to appreciate all the things that 
 were said to me at home, for in this war it is 
 each one for himself if you are an officer, and 
 unless you think of telling another man he is 
 getting on finely, there are no compliments 
 
 exchanged. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Pink. 
 
 April 7. 
 Darling Little Mother : 
 
 You promised me not to worry and 
 
 I know you won't, you brave, wonderful 
 
 mother, but I am wondering whether you 
 
 tried to read between the lines of my recent 
 
 letters for something that wasn't there which 
 
 would give you cause for worry. I keep 
 
 wondering what father would think of it 
 
46 MY 
 
 all. I know he wouldn't want me anywhere 
 else than just where I am. When the time 
 comes when I see you again I think I will 
 burst from happiness. I follow after Tele- 
 machus rather than Ulysses, I guess. You 
 have been in my thoughts a great deal to- 
 day and I have been thinking of you as 
 being my proud little mother, proud that 
 you have a son who is trying to do his bit, 
 and yet I know you have times when it 
 seems pretty hard. I haven't read it in your 
 letters but intuition tells me, so I want you 
 to know things are going finely. I wouldn't 
 change places with any one in the States 
 now, not until the war is over or I have ac- 
 complished something worth while. It is 
 just three months ago to-day that I sailed 
 from New York and eleven months since I 
 first put on uniform. I feel almost as if I had 
 been in it all my life long. Last night one 
 of the older *' shave-tails " read aloud to me 
 part of his letter from home, and it was the 
 kind of a letter that you might write, so I 
 just imagined it was from you. That mother 
 was proud of her son, too, but that is not 
 what we are here for, and my thoughts are 
 
OF THE TEENOHES 47 
 
 that I may be able to deliver the goods 
 when the day comes. 
 
 April 19. 
 Things are going finely now, and at pres- 
 ent we are billeted in an old French chateau 
 occupied at one time by some Count. In 
 fact the aged Countess is living here still. 
 Beautiful grounds surround the place ; there 
 are great rooms where you can imagine 
 impressive ceremonies were carried out ; 
 inlaid floors, — especially in the ballroom 
 where many stately dances were held; 
 pictures still hanging from the walls, and 
 gorgeous paintings looking down upon you 
 with surprise,— surprise at seeing Americans 
 encroaching upon the halls and rooms which 
 they once occupied in true French fashion. 
 One can imagine wild revelries held in this 
 place, for that seems typical of the France I 
 have seen as a soldier. 
 
 May 3. 
 Four months ago to-day I said good- 
 bye to the people I loved best in the world 
 and a great four months it has been, too. 
 Just two days ago I received a batch of de- 
 
48 MY GALAHAD 
 
 layed mail and among others were six letters 
 from you, from February 15 to March 25. 
 Oh, Peggy, you don't know how much let- 
 ters mean over here, how much courage is 
 brought in them, not physical courage but 
 mental. Here, unless you receive letters as 
 I have been receiving them, it is so easy for 
 your mind to ooze out on a lower level, but 
 the very fact that you at home expect such 
 high things make me strive harder. If a 
 man has a conscience that tells him to do a 
 thing and he loiters, it is a great deal worse 
 than being killed. When they told me that 
 I had some mail, I was so eager for it that I 
 forgot my gas-mask which we carry with us 
 all the time. 
 
 I think the United States army might well 
 be called the sanitary corps, for they always 
 clean up every place they stop in, and 
 these French towns are pretty filthy. You 
 wouldn't notice it in touring France in a car, 
 but when you billet men in stables you find 
 the value of such sanitary work. Peggy, 
 there isn't any one anywhere as fortunate as 
 I am in having at home such wonderful peo- 
 ple who, I know, are back of me. Don't 
 
OP THE TEENCHES 49 
 
 think I ever regret being here for I am proud 
 to be in the van of the American Forces in 
 France, and I think there is the highest 
 morale in our battalion of any in France. 
 The uniforms one sees here are not the neat 
 and tailor-made uniforms one sees on Wash- 
 ington Street or Fifth Avenue. 
 
 The plan for to-morrow— Mothers' Day — 
 is a great thing. I think the whole com- 
 pany will take advantage of it and that will 
 keep us pretty busy in our spare moments 
 censoring the letters. Wouldn't I like to 
 run in to Mather Court, and surprise you all, 
 but I fancy we will stay here until quite a 
 while after the end of the war. Do you 
 know I think it will be hard for me to settle 
 down to an indoor job after I get through 
 this, but that is too far in the distance to 
 worry about as yet. The way they have to 
 run the platoon now makes the Platoon Com- 
 mander much more responsible for the ap- 
 pearance of the platoon than before, for the 
 Company Commander has so much more to 
 look after, he cannot be in intimate touch as 
 formerly. So the main thing is to keep the 
 men happy, keep them working in team 
 
50 MY GALAHAD 
 
 work, look after their food and clothing, see 
 that they bathe, and just now I am seeing 
 that they all write home. In fact just this 
 minute I received five Mothers' Day letters 
 to be censored. The hardest thing of all is 
 to punish the men. Think of me, just out of 
 college . . . well, it is unthinkable even 
 to me. So I won't try to inflict it on you, for 
 the picture would make you laugh. 
 
 Always your brother, 
 
 Pink. 
 
 May 8. 
 Dear Betty : 
 
 Four of your letters have come in 
 within a week, and I surely was glad to hear 
 from you. You ask me how I react to these 
 experiences. Why, I don't seem to react; 
 they just come in the natural course of 
 events, and I swing along feeling that I am 
 doing exactly what I should. Sometimes 
 when I am marching along at the head of a 
 body of men, — laden down with steel Stetson, 
 gas-masks, pack, field-glasses, pistol and 
 overcoat, balancing myself with a cane, — 
 sometimes in the cold starlight it all seems 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 61 
 
 to slip off, and like Hermes of old I go on 
 winged feet, feeling all the glories of the ages 
 back of me bearing me up. For the most 
 part, however, the path of duty necessitates 
 a strict observance of its contours, for you 
 are likely to step in a shell-hole if you go 
 star-gazing too much. 
 
 A lot of things have happened this last 
 year which change the history of the whole 
 world, and narrowed down to us small mor- 
 tals, change our lives considerably too. It is 
 going to be hard for the men who have been 
 in France and who will return, to settle down 
 to an ordinary kind of life. We over here 
 are not the heroes in spite of the hardships 
 we occasionally endure, — though we get the 
 credit, — the real heroes are those like my 
 mother, who stay at home and continue with 
 their normal lives, but with the thought of 
 the unknown ever present. Things are — 
 well, I guess I have rambled long enough. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 May 12. 
 
 Mother dear : 
 
 Some nights when I look up at the 
 
52 MY GALAHAD 
 
 stars, my mind goes back with startling 
 vividness to those days at Cambridge. 
 Wasn't that a wonderful month and what a 
 wonderful time we had together I At such 
 times too I seem to get a new vision, for it 
 isn't often we can throw off our immediate 
 surroundings. I am getting to believe one 
 changes by mere associations. I used to 
 believe that man's character was predestined 
 and unalterable. I now see how surround- 
 ings can mould a man, and I thank God, not 
 as the Jew that I am better than other men, 
 but that I was born of such wonderful par- 
 ents, and kept and brought up in such a 
 wonderful way, and have the love of such a 
 noble mother to sustain me. And now the 
 responsibility remains with me of what 
 my life shall consist. I am happy again 
 in that I have been given a platoon. It 
 is so much more satisfactory than acting 
 second in command. Mother dear, you are 
 a tremendous help here in France. The 
 small good I can do is all you over here. 
 Don't laugh too much when I tell you I 
 haven't slept with my clothes off for two 
 months. Most nights though I have been 
 
OF THE TEEKCHES 53 
 
 able to take off my shoes. Mother, your 
 letters are perfectly great. They are all so 
 cheery, and I know there are times when 
 you don't feel that way. The soldier de- 
 velops a great spirit over here. He says 
 there is a shell over in Germany with his 
 name on it, and when that comes there is 
 no use dodging it, for it will find him out in 
 the deepest dugout, but until it comes, what 
 is the use of worrying about the rest of them. 
 1 read to-day about one of my closest friends, 
 Lloyd Ludwig, who was killed by a fall from 
 an aeroplane in Oxford, England. This is 
 Mothers' Day, so you are more in my 
 thoughts than ever, if that is possible. My 
 love to grandmother, with just oceans of 
 
 love for yourself. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 May 15. 
 Wonderful little Sister of 
 MINE, Louise: 
 
 After reading over your letter for the 
 'steenth time, I must write you again. You 
 write such wonderful letters to me. I simply 
 can't thank you enough for them. If I were 
 
54 MY GALAHAD 
 
 one thousandth part as good as the things 
 you say about me, I would be magnificent, 
 and you are spoiling me, but I love to be 
 spoiled by you. The weather here is fine. 
 I like weather in all shapes and conditions. 
 Even pitch black nights in the rain have 
 their fascination, for then the flash of guns 
 gives a bizarre effect which you would pay 
 three dollars to see in an opera. As far as 
 health goes, I never felt better or in better 
 spirits in my life, but what wouldn't I give 
 to go to a dance ! I will be either so keen 
 for it when I get back that I will never get 
 enough, or I will be hardened to the lack of 
 it. I must stop a minute to censor about 
 twenty letters. My present command is by 
 far the most interesting work of the whole 
 year, because this is what I have been train- 
 ing myself for all along. 
 
 Your brother, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 May 21. 
 
 Mother dear : 
 
 I have not been in a position yet 
 where I could write more than the meagrest 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 55 
 
 details. It is almost a month since I have 
 seen a civilian save those who came here one 
 day. This life does give you a love of 
 nature, a love of that which is just beyond 
 the human grasp. You go out into the 
 moonlight and feel the place " holy and 
 enchanted," a new world, half mystical, a 
 different moon, more wondrous lights ; — then 
 some tremendous 155 goes off and shatters 
 your dream. The sun pours down its light 
 and heat, and you lie under a tree with half- 
 closed eyes, and your thoughts are far away, 
 miles and miles, — when suddenly plunk, 
 plunk, around you, and you decide the safest 
 thing is to put on your gas-mask. Life is 
 great and the aims of the war are great. It 
 is when you see into the aims with your inner 
 eyes that you see the bigness of it all. Just 
 like religion, those moments are few and far 
 between, yet it is like the Mount of Trans- 
 figuration when you go up and receive your 
 inspiration anew. I wish I were more 
 worthy of what you think me to be. You 
 give me credit for being so many thou- 
 sand times better than I am. I wish I were 
 deserving of it. Give my best love to 
 
56 MY GALAHAD 
 
 grandmother, and heaps and heaps for your- 
 self. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 May 22. 
 I have moved back to a place where we 
 can go around in safety in the daytime and 
 I hardly know what to do with such liberty, 
 let alone seeing chickens and cows and 
 civilians, which I haven't feasted my eyes on 
 for a month now. Yes, this morning, until 
 it became too hot, I literally paced the streets 
 in eager anticipation of seeing the inhab- 
 itants. I have thus far seen nine in all : 
 eight old women just managing to keep 
 from dropping to pieces by staying dressed 
 all the time, — at least that is the impression I 
 received, — and one old man with a scythe. 
 Oh, it is so good to be aUve and know that 
 you are in it! You laugh at my box-car 
 with its ** 40 hommes, 8 cheveaux," but they 
 are great places to live in. We managed to 
 keep the number in our car within thirty. 
 With straw in the bottom, we had com- 
 fortable quarters, and at night with our feet 
 
OP THE TEENCHES 67 
 
 pointed towards the centre we slept well. 
 The noise of the rattling door sent us to 
 sleep. In one corner we had our boxes of 
 hard bread and " corn-willie/' and one pail 
 did us for drinking, shaving, washing, etc. 
 But, mother dear, in spite of all these new 
 and awfully interesting experiences, I always 
 go back to that month with you in Boston 
 as the happiest of all times. That shows 
 how shallow-minded I am when I could for- 
 get everything and just live in the present. 
 Yes, I am in a joyful mood. It is so quiet 
 here, it seems strangely unnatural. Mother 
 dear, I am absolutely content with my work, 
 so don't worry about my finding hardships. 
 We have them, but I would rather have 
 them and share them, than see other men 
 have them alone. You get a broader view- 
 point. I must send this off with heaps and 
 heaps of love. 
 
 May 25. 
 
 Peggy dear : 
 
 I can never tell you how much this 
 friendship of ours has meant, particularly 
 over here. You have been a beautiful sister 
 
58 MY GALAHAD 
 
 to me, and just to know that you were think- 
 ing of me has helped me to do better than 
 otherwise I could have done, and, Peggy, 
 don't think of me having hardships more 
 than I can endure. The soldier just lives 
 his life as any other person, with a touch of 
 unreality ; but in other lives there is that un- 
 naturalness too, as when a bunch of men are 
 herded together for four years in college. 
 Just now where I am it seems strangely 
 quiet, not a sound of exploding shells or the 
 roar of artillery, and for the first time in 
 months I see cows and chickens and human 
 beings in civilian clothes. I sometimes 
 wonder what heaven can possibly be like, 
 for our conceptions of it keep changing so 
 constantly, and no two people will be satisfied 
 with the same kind of heaven, and there will 
 always be some one jealous of some one 
 else's heaven if we each have our own. But 
 we don't have much time to think of heaven 
 now. I have been in many cities or rather 
 towns, where the moonlight falls through 
 roofless walls and gardens, and streets are 
 ripped up with shells, and I am here in 
 France to save our own homes and parks 
 
OP THE TEBNCHiS 59 
 
 from being ruined as they are ruined over 
 
 here. 
 
 Always affectionately, 
 
 Pink. 
 
 May 31. 
 Dearest of darling Mothers : 
 
 It is a tired boy that writes to you to- 
 night after some of the most strenuous hours 
 of my life. I expect soon to be in a place 
 where I can write details of my work and let 
 you know more what I am doing. You have 
 been in my thoughts a very great deal, and I 
 love to picture your cheerful, smiling face as 
 over me, and watching me, and smiling the 
 encouragement I feel you are sending across 
 to me. I received a couple of your letters 
 to-day, and they do cheer me so much. Also 
 two from Hal telling of his work and play. 
 Letters are such a tremendous help here. 
 They mean a great deal. There are getting 
 to be beaucoup Americans over here. We 
 had a bunch of new men assigned to our 
 Company, and I organized them into a 
 platoon, and '* carried on " with them almost 
 like an independent company. I feel some 
 
60 MY GALAHAD 
 
 of the men have a real affection for their 
 leader. Not with pride do I say it, but it was 
 mutual. They were a fine bunch and did 
 fine work. I love you, love you, and my 
 love has grown immensely since I have been 
 here. Boyhood days are of the past and I 
 feel years older. Won't we have a glorious 
 time together when I get back ? I have seen 
 some of the sights Coningsby Dawson writes 
 about, and when they are your own friends 
 it brings you to a realization of what war is. 
 Excuse this sad strain in my letter, mother 
 dear, and believe me always 
 
 Your loving son, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 This letter was written just after the " over- 
 the-top" drive at Cantigny, for which Vin- 
 ton received a citation by Major-General 
 Bullard and was awarded the Distinguished 
 Service Cross by General Pershing. 
 
 June I. 
 Louise dear : 
 
 The chewing gum you sent me is a 
 
 great thing, and has saved me a whole lot of 
 
 worry. I shall tell you some time one of the 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 61 
 
 places where I chewed it. Also when you 
 have a canteen with only a few drops of 
 water left, and a whole day to go, your 
 throat gets dry and sticky, and the gum keeps 
 things running, and when you are listening 
 to " crumps " falling all around, and each one 
 seems to have just missed the trench you are 
 in, and your heart is in your ears listening to 
 the whistle of the next one, then chewing 
 gum helps. I am getting to look old and 
 haggard. That is the trouble with us chaps 
 over here. When we get back we won't be 
 good for anything, while the fortunate men 
 at home will have . . . Does this sound 
 funny ? It is only a passing thought in my 
 head, so forgive it. We are all glad we are 
 here, and will stick until the last gun is fired 
 if that is the command. 
 
 Love to my little sister, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 3. 
 Dearest and most Wonderful 
 OF Mothers : 
 
 Do you realize that five whole months 
 ago to-day I left you in the South Station at 
 
62 MY GALAHAD 
 
 Boston, and what a long, long time ago it 
 was, and, mother, if only I could tell you how 
 my love for you has grown in that time I 
 All 1 do is with you in mind, you, with your 
 cheerful, wonderful smile, and how that 
 heartens me over here, that for me you are 
 smiling many, many times when in reality 
 the smile is not there. I hope one of these 
 days to have some good news to tell you. 
 Nothing much, but everything cheerful helps 
 the smile and the war too. Oh, mother, 
 what a lot has happened the last five months ! 
 Isn't it a revelation how America has awak- 
 ened 1 She surely is doing wonderful work 
 here. And now I am looking forward to the 
 time when I shall see you. Won^t we have 
 a wonderful time when we do ? Please use 
 any of my money you need. It is all yours. 
 Everything of mine is yours, mother dear, 
 for you have made me and helped me get 
 where I am. Anything I can do worth while 
 is from you. You asked me in your last let- 
 ter if I have seen any Boches. Yes I have, 
 both as hated enemies in the opposing line, 
 and then as men in fear crying, " Kamerad," 
 with hands extended, and then in that bond 
 
OF THE TEBKCHES 63 
 
 which cannot help but bind us all when one 
 is wounded so badly that the human being is 
 to the fore, yet I hate them not as human be- 
 ings, for in spite of war I cannot hate human 
 beings, — I hate the mechanism, the fiendish 
 deviltry of it all that makes for this. I had a 
 wonderful body of men who proved they 
 would ** go through hell for me." I have an- 
 other platoon now, and so it goes. You get 
 one body of men, then you switch to another, 
 but, mother dear, think of me as always 
 cheerful over here. I will keep up my end, 
 knowing that you are doing the same there. 
 It is so wonderful to know that I have such a 
 beautiful ideal mother back there. Love, 
 love, love goes across the sea to you, con- 
 stant love that is larger and purer and deeper 
 than ever before, and remember your son is 
 battling for you and all those who have 
 meant so much to him. Just heaps and 
 heaps of love to you and give my best love 
 
 to grandmother. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 3. 
 Peggy dearest : 
 
 I warn you this letter will start out 
 
64 MY GALAHAD 
 
 badly, so here goes. Yes, I am blue and 
 homesick and everything, and all that makes 
 me wish I were back in the States. There 
 are many things that make me feel that way, 
 but I must just overcome them, and so say- 
 ing, ** he overcame them." Well, Peggy 
 dear, I do feel better and it is because of 
 that eternal backing I know I am receiving 
 from mother and you, and God knows I 
 need it. If you stay here long, more and 
 more you stand alone as the stake against 
 which other weary and tired ones can rest. 
 At first I did all the resting, and I now begin 
 to appreciate those that I rested against. 
 Oh, Peggy, what wonderful days college 
 days are, and as our Beta song goes, 
 
 '* Life is at best a struggle, 
 It always comes too soon." 
 
 But I must not forget the rest of the song, so 
 I keep singing it to myself. Yes, Peggy, I 
 am taking lessons from that wonderful little 
 mother of mine, and smiling when there are 
 no smiles here. Don't think I am dis- 
 couraged, a bit cast down, perhaps, but 
 cheero, I am at it again. I think it is be- 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 65 
 
 cause I have lost one of my best friends that 
 I have been feeling so badly, but duty calls 
 and it is great to obey duty, " the stern 
 daughter of the voice of God." My battalion 
 officer has commended me, and there is much 
 that some day I will tell you. You know 
 here one changes his mind on the important 
 things of life. I am at sea, Peggy. I 
 scarcely know where I stand. When you 
 see how little life is and how quickly one can 
 lose it you begin to think of the greater 
 things. The most a man can do is to do 
 his duty to the utmost. You have been an 
 awfully good litde listener, and the next letter 
 will be more cheerful, I promise, and, Peggy, 
 you have given me courage to keep driving. 
 Ever so lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 5. 
 Dearest of Mothers : 
 
 I don't seem to be able to keep from 
 
 writing you. I want to write to you all the 
 
 time. What wouldn't I give to sit down, hug 
 
 you close and talk to you ! I have been 
 
 thinking of father a great deal recently. It 
 
66 MY GALAHAD 
 
 was two years ago we were all together in 
 Hamilton. What lovely days those were! 
 We were all so proud of you, and father was 
 all in his glory at having one of his sons 
 graduating from college. May I be worthy 
 of his memory! There are moments when 
 it is easy to do things that are detrimental if 
 you are not careful, but thoughts of you 
 and father have kept me true. Then too it 
 is hard sometimes to endure the long 
 dragging hours when you simply sit still, 
 but, mother dear, I have proved myself in 
 the hard places, and with a prayer on my 
 lips I have come through none the less a 
 man for it. How much your dear face has 
 meant to me the last few days ! I have 
 thought of you constantly, and always your 
 face has been there to cheer me. Oh, I am 
 looking forward to that wonderful time we 
 will have together. I think I will allow my- 
 self one month's rest for every six months I 
 am here. I am hoping it won't be long now, 
 but when it comes, it will be heaven. It is 
 only a dream, but dreams come true. If you 
 think my letters are not cheerful I want to 
 correct that impression, for I want you to 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 67 
 
 know your smile is reflected over here as 
 the moon reflects the light of the sun. You 
 can see how easy it is for a bunch of men to 
 copy their leader. An indifferent leader has 
 a following of indifferent men in his platoon. 
 That is the way it goes. I surely have fine 
 men in my platoon, and things are beginning 
 to take on a new aspect. You see I have 
 only had the men for a couple of days now 
 and I think it will be a permanent assign- 
 ment this time. A year ago you were writ- 
 ing me those lovely camp letters. Now your 
 letters go much farther, and also deeper. I 
 think I have matured in several ways since 
 father saw me a year and a half ago, and a 
 little since you saw me, too. As they say, 
 if you don't go forward you go backward, so 
 I am doing my best to go forward. You 
 know one of these days I am going to take a 
 lot of pleasure in putting on that good uni- 
 form of mine. It has been almost three 
 months since I saw it. I keep my clothes 
 clean, but they are plain soldier's clothes, but 
 for the bars. But it isn't the uniform that 
 makes the leader, it is what you have in you, 
 and with God's help and my own teeth I will 
 
68 MY GALAHAD 
 
 succeed. You know I find my own teeth 
 clinched unconsciously at times. I am afraid 
 I am getting to be an awful coffee drinker, 
 almost a quart at a meal of the strongest. 
 It is my one indulgence, no more than any 
 one has, but because I want it, it looks to me 
 like an indulgence. Think of me as doing 
 my duty over here, and getting to be a man 
 in doing it. How proud I shall be to walk 
 down the street with you, and what wonder- 
 ful times we shall have. What would I give 
 for a word from that wonderful father of 
 mine, and yet we must go on and do our 
 best, without any words from those gone be- 
 fore. Two of my best leaders over here 
 have gone, and one just has to redouble his 
 efforts to try in a little way to fill the gap. 
 And now again, precious mother of mine, 
 good-bye. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 7. 
 Precious Bit of Sunshine : 
 
 Yes, mother dear, you are that to me, 
 
 and to every one who knows you. As I 
 
 gradually acquire responsibility and leader- 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 69 
 
 ship and cease to be a blind follower, I find 
 my path paved with all kinds of boulders 
 around which it is necessary to drive, but 
 believe me, mother dear, I will do my best, 
 and should anything happen to me remem- 
 ber I am glad to give all to repay my debt 
 to my country. You can't possibly imagine 
 how much you have meant to me the last 
 few days, for I have used you as a land- 
 mark on which to assemble my thoughts. 
 That is rather an odd metaphor, but the 
 state of one's mind is rather chaotic at times, 
 and needs an assembling point. I wish I 
 were in Cambridge so that I could go with 
 you to father's grave. I hope you don't go 
 alone. And one of these days when I do 
 get back, you are there, and next to doing 
 my share in winning the war is getting back 
 to you. Just now I am writing under diffi- 
 culties, but my heart is just as bright, and I 
 love you more than ever. I am in a little 
 dugout eighteen inches high and about two 
 feet wide, with a little candle at my head. 
 That is w^here I sleep daytimes. But you 
 know if one only sees the broader vision, and 
 the fight for democracy, small inconveniences 
 
70 MY GALAHAD 
 
 vanish away. When I get back let us read 
 quite a little aloud. There is so much I want 
 to read now. I used to feel the truth of that 
 statement that if you keep working up your 
 sentiments and emotions and then don't 
 accomplish anything, it is worse than useless, 
 but I feel now that when I get through I 
 shall be entitled to indulge myself more. I 
 love to talk about you to my fellow officers, 
 mother dear. You are a help to them too, 
 and I keep my men working together and 
 cheerful through you. And now I must 
 close with heaps and oceans of love to the 
 most wonderful person on earth. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 Jime lo. 
 Dearest of Mothers : 
 
 This war has taught me the meaning 
 of the " courage of the commonplace." It 
 is not going over the top that takes courage. 
 It is staying in one place with no movement 
 possible for fifteen hours at a stretch that 
 takes courage. I mean mental courage, for 
 my mind is such that it has got to be doing 
 
OF THE TEENOHES 71 
 
 something. I have lived over nearly every 
 experience I have ever had. Please don't 
 think I ani complaining, for I am not. 1 am 
 trying to do my best and keep in the best 
 condition, for Uncle Sam needs us all in our 
 prime strength. Can you send in your let- 
 ters little booklets, things I can slip in my 
 pockets and carry, not too heavy ? You see 
 my books of poems are in my trunk. I ex- 
 pect one of these days I may see it again. I 
 may be sent back to officers' school or some- 
 thing of that sort. Your letter of May nth 
 I have read and reread a countless number 
 of times. You write such comforting, cheery 
 letters. A year ago now I was going 
 through what I thought were fearful and 
 wonderful experiences, but then " Forsan et 
 haec olim meminisse juvabit." That is a 
 very comforting motto. I guess I can tell 
 3^ou now what I did last March when I fin- 
 ished officers' school. I went up to the Com- 
 pany by train, truck and mule-cart, and was 
 immediately put under a platoon leader, and 
 the next day I went up to reconnoitre the 
 front lines where the Company was to go in a 
 very short time. You can imagine my feel- 
 
72 MY GALAHAD 
 
 ings at getting into the thick of it so soon. 
 Then came the period in the front lines when 
 I slept but little, as we weren't supposed to 
 sleep, and lived in mud up to my knees. I 
 lost my rubber boots just before I started, so 
 that is where three pairs of socks kept my 
 feet in shape. We were fortunate in not 
 coming in for much bombardment. I learned 
 a good deal up there. It was just back 
 of the lines that I sent my Easter telegram, 
 and I sent it the evening of the night that we 
 hiked all night, and all the next day, Easter 
 Day. Then came a short rest at a canton- 
 ment. From there on I wrote you about the 
 ride in the car for the *' 40 hommes, 8 che- 
 veaux.'* All this time I was in charge of a 
 platoon, my chief having been taken sick. 
 In fact he went deaf temporarily in the 
 trenches, and it was funny, though danger- 
 ous, for he couldn't hear a man challenge 
 him. 
 
 June 12. 
 
 It is rather hard to keep track of the 
 
 days, they just blend together so. It is the 
 
 first time I ever thought there could be too 
 
 much daylight. You see it is light from 
 
OF THE TRENCHES 73 
 
 4 A. M. until lo P. M. I am living in a luxu- 
 rious place now, three and a half feet high, 
 and I have an entire three feet to roll over 
 in, so I can sit up and write to the most 
 wonderful little mother in the world. I have 
 been with the Company just three months to- 
 day, a whole training-camp period. Some of 
 the things I originally thought were touches 
 of war when I arrived in France would seem 
 luxury now. It is luxury indeed to sleep 
 with one's shoes off. I carry a blanket with 
 me and that is indispensable, also canned al- 
 cohol. I wish you could see me try to shave 
 lying down. Anyway we are beating the 
 Hun and at his own game. That is typical 
 of the Americans. The bigger the surprise he 
 springs, the harder the American comes back 
 and in the same line. And of course my 
 admiration for the French and British is un- 
 bounded. And next to the war is you, and 
 getting home again to you, mother dear. 
 What a glorious day it will be ! I love to 
 think of myself as in the star in your window. 
 I get a feeling of security just to think of it. 
 I am beginning to appreciate more than ever 
 the glories of nature, the early morning 
 
74 MY GALAHAD 
 
 mists, and the clear, sunlit fields and trees. 
 Isn't the world a wonderful place to live in ? 
 Your loving son, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 14. 
 Peggy dear : 
 
 You can't imagine how welcome your 
 
 letters were, May 14th and 20th, when they 
 
 reached me, and they simply uplifted me as 
 
 I read them sitting in the trench with Aurora 
 
 just hitching up her fiery team to start off 
 
 another day. I wasn't going to do any 
 
 writing save to mother, but I had to squeeze 
 
 in this letter to you. Sometimes time seems 
 
 to fly by, and at others it goes by at such 
 
 speed that a snail would look like a flash of 
 
 lightning. But that is neither here nor there. 
 
 The fact is I have been five months away 
 
 from the States, and believe me it seems like 
 
 a long period of time. How quickly we can 
 
 descend from our own high civilization to 
 
 the instincts of the animal, and the hunted 
 
 animal at that. Some of the things I do now 
 
 and get along without, I would have thought 
 
 absolutely impossible a year ago, yes, less 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 75 
 
 than a year ago. For at that first training- 
 camp the feeding seemed wild, but that was 
 luxury to what we have sometimes now, but 
 it all counts in this big experience, and it isn't 
 the outward hardships that bother you at all. 
 It all reflects back to your inner soul. If 
 you are selfish and think about yourself, so 
 much the worse for you. You have to suffer, 
 and your nerves in turn are acted upon. I 
 found myself that way, and I started telling 
 a story, that of " Les Miserables," as nearly 
 as I could remember it, and it helped my 
 mind wonderfully. Yesterday I managed to 
 get sent for the afternoon to another Com- 
 pany where they weren't under the restric- 
 tions of our present surroundings, and I had 
 the luxury of a glorious meal eaten off plates 
 and at a table, and talk about good things to 
 eat I I just stuffed myself. I am awfully 
 glad I have a platoon now, and the men, I 
 feel sure, have confidence in me and will 
 follow where I lead. That is the big thing, 
 that when I get orders to go anywhere I can 
 feel assured the men are back of me. You 
 would laugh to hear some of the fatherly 
 advice I hand out to men four and six years 
 
76 MY GALAHAD 
 
 my senior. Well, c'est la guerre. Here's 
 hoping the day won't be so very far off when 
 I shall see you again. 
 
 Always affectionately, 
 
 Brother Pink. 
 
 June 15. 
 Mother dearest : 
 
 Your two wonderful letters of May 14th 
 
 and 1 8th reached me yesterday, and in the 
 
 glory of an early sunrise in France, with the 
 
 chill of the night air still unconquered by the 
 
 sun's rays, I read them seated in the entrance 
 
 to my little home, which, under the reflection 
 
 of your letters, transformed itself into a 
 
 palace. You are so wonderful, mother, and 
 
 write such letters 1 Your Mothers' Day letter 
 
 did so much to cheer me and help me, and 
 
 I hope you received mine. There are so 
 
 many brave lads over here who stick and 
 
 fight, no matter what the odds, not so much 
 
 physical as mental, for that is where the 
 
 unseen opponents can work so much harm. 
 
 I haven't asked for packages, as so fev/ 
 
 actually get here. Of the eighteen I know 
 
 that were sent me, I have received four, so 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 77 
 
 you can see it is better for me to get along 
 without. The date on this letter is five 
 months from the day my boat dropped 
 down the river, five long months, yet crowded 
 full of experiences I shall never regret. You 
 may have noticed the death of Major Ras- 
 mussen, killed in action. He was the finest 
 type of a leader, a pure war-soldier through 
 and through. Twenty years of war-soldier- 
 ing with every nation you can imagine gave 
 him the principles and bearing of a true 
 soldier of fortune, and we who were under 
 him were ready to follow wherever he led. 
 He died like a true fighter, and almost his 
 last words were, " It has been a great fight, 
 boys. Give them hell for me," and we have 
 been doing it too. I heard one man say, 
 **And there's one for Major Rasmussen." 
 Oh, it is wonderful to be living in this age, 
 and when peace comes and the nations 
 gather around the Board, won't it be in- 
 teresting to see how they decide and feel 
 you had a little part in that decision your- 
 self! But, mother, my mind always returns 
 to that day when the returning soldier 
 comes home, and I shall see you again and 
 
78 MY GALAHAD 
 
 hold you tight. It is now three months is 
 the same uniform, and day and night, too. 
 I have become literally attached to these 
 clothes. My one pair of spiral leggings are 
 worn threadbare, but as long as a man does 
 his bit, clothes don't count. Love to grand- 
 mother, heaps and heaps for you. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 17. 
 About a year ago I was looking forward 
 to the time when I would see you again. 
 Then I knew when it would be. Now I 
 don't know, but I am looking forward 
 just the same. I have the same platoon, 
 and I am trying my best to be a worthy 
 leader, but it is hard and one needs more 
 than human strength to do it. Oh, your 
 letter helped me so much saying that no 
 matter how hard or lonely my work you 
 were there with me. I know it, mother dear, 
 and it helps tremendously. I have my hands 
 full checking and looking after the workings 
 of the platoon, and there are lots of things 
 necessary here which under normal condi- 
 tions are not required, and yet I feel I am 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 79 
 
 filling my post not right. There is a yearn- 
 ing to do better that I don't seem to attain 
 to. I can't pick out just what my fault is, 
 and that is a trouble. Well, mother dear, 
 give my love to every one, and I will con- 
 tinue to be your true son over here, true to 
 the high ideals you expect of me. Wouldn't 
 I love to take some trips with you, to 
 Cooperstown or New York! Haven't we 
 had some great times together ! 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 19. 
 Mother dear : 
 
 I have been thinking a lot of you and 
 
 father this afternoon. Afternoon, I can hear 
 
 you say, what is he doing that he is thinking 
 
 in the afternoon instead of working. Well, 
 
 for a couple of days my work has consisted 
 
 of night work, and we sleep daytimes, and 
 
 here in France the day is too long for that 
 
 kind of thing. To get back to the point, 
 
 more and more I realize what wonderful 
 
 parents you have been, and now you. Oh, 
 
 that I could do something to show how I 
 
80 MY GALAHAD 
 
 appreciate it, but I can never begin to do 
 what it deserves. About the platoon, I feel 
 like glowing with pride, for they are a bunch 
 of men who had a reputation in the Company 
 for not caring, and now they go at all the 
 different jobs with a will. They have 
 " snapped out of it,'^ as the expression goes. 
 Of course no two men are the same, and you 
 just have to learn by experience how to get 
 along with the different men. But I have 
 two or three who would do absolutely any- 
 thing for me, and really a king has no better 
 feeling than to know he has men like this. 
 They would all follow me anywhere, and one 
 said to me, ** If the lieutenant goes on patrol 
 I go too." That doesn't sound much on 
 paper, but it meant a lot to me. My two 
 sergeants, too, are absolutely reliable, and 
 all I do is to tell them what I want done and 
 it is done. Love to grandmother. Aunt 
 Elizabeth, also Peggy and Louise, if they 
 are still in Cambridge, and heaps of love for 
 yourself. 
 
 May (crossed out), June 21. 
 Dear Betty : 
 
 You see I even forget what month I 
 
OF THE TEEl^CHES 81 
 
 am living in, and as for days, I found out 
 Tuesday that I had Uved through a Sunday, 
 and tried in vain to recall what I had been 
 thinking about. It was one of those days 
 that your double letter reached me, and most 
 welcome it was, I assure you. Letters are 
 read and reread. I build up fanciful air 
 castles round them, — that is when I am in a 
 place where all I can do in the daytime is to 
 lie on my back, right and left side, and 
 stomach, especially when the days are nine- 
 teen hours long, and the rest bright moon- 
 shine. Speaking of Cape Porpoise, you 
 don't know what ethereal lights the name 
 itself suggests, — a flashing combination of 
 light : sunlight, the blue glistening bay, green 
 hills, and that whale-rib arch in its white- 
 ness. Then there comes back to me a com- 
 bination of sound and smell and taste . . . 
 taste brings back the thought of the clam- 
 bake. I have just finished a piece of- corned 
 ** Bill " together with a hunk of French bread, 
 and a cup of water. Besides that I had a piece 
 of meat and some potatoes with the jackets on. 
 So you see we are living in the lap of luxury. 
 I wonder what you are doing now and 
 
82 MY GALAHAD 
 
 what your plans are for next year. I should 
 like to be making plans, but the only ones 
 we make now are how we can best carry out 
 the commands of those higher up. One 
 thing we have been blest with, — that is beau- 
 tiful and sunshiny weather, lasting for many 
 days continuously. For nearly two months 
 now we have had sun, and the roads are 
 terribly dusty. It reminds me of Madison 
 Barracks last summer, — only that there when 
 we got dusty and dirty, we had a shower to 
 come back to ; here every cupful of water is 
 cherished like gold. I have often chewed 
 gum to keep myself from having to drink 
 
 water. And as for Well, I once laughed 
 
 at them, but never again ! 
 
 This is just one of the light sides of France 
 that I have depicted. I could draw for you 
 pictures I have seen that would make you 
 shudder, but there is so much of that sort of 
 thing that we learn to keep to ourselves. 1 
 like to think of the happy times we have 
 had together, — and I simply have got to 
 finish that dance we began last year, the last 
 night. . . . 
 
 Vinton. 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 83 
 
 Later : 
 
 You say you admire the great writers and 
 teachers as opposed to soldiers and states- 
 men. For the sake of argument, doesn't it 
 strike you that all the philosophies that the 
 great writers and teachers have generated 
 have been reduced to nothingness by the 
 present war? International finance couldn't 
 stop the war, nor international religions, nor 
 anything that was expected to call a halt to 
 it. But men relied, at least subconsciously, 
 on education. And yet now, see how the 
 writers have just swung into the fray. It is 
 seldom you see a book that doesn't mention 
 the war. The writings of Spinoza, Lieb- 
 necht, and others, have just proved worth- 
 less, in spite of the years of their lives de- 
 voted to writing. I admit that there is going 
 to be a big opening for education at the 
 close of this war. Yet what is education 
 worth if it produces war of this kind ? We 
 are supposed to be at the height of civiliza- 
 tion, and yet I would rather fight like the 
 ancients with cross-bars and stone axes, than 
 face the results of our modern education, — 
 the high explosives which throw steel splin- 
 
84 MY GALAHAD 
 
 ters for half a mile, and even though they 
 don't touch you, can drive the life right out 
 of a man, — the way one of my best friends 
 was killed here a short time ago. 
 
 I guess that writers do swing the world, 
 though, if Nietzsche was an example. Well, 
 some day we'll have a chance to argue it out 
 together. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 23. 
 Mother dear : 
 
 I guess to-day is Sunday, I am not 
 
 sure, nor am I sure it is the 23rd ; it is a mere 
 
 guess. Since I last wrote you I have changed 
 
 locations again. I stayed behind the rest a 
 
 day to show the surrounding country, and 
 
 the Captain of the other Company had eggs 
 
 and pie, and so I lived like a king. Also I 
 
 had an opportunity to shave for the first 
 
 time in five days, and that always makes 
 
 you feel a lot better. I may be sent back to 
 
 the States one of these months as instructor, 
 
 but not for some time yet. I don't know 
 
 why it is I feel so good, I mean in such fine 
 
 spirits, unless it is because I had a chance to 
 
 wash my face and hands to-day. Do you 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 85 
 
 know even that has got to be a luxury. I 
 am greatly encouraged by the war news, 
 though I don't know what it will be, but the 
 Americans can put it over the Boches every 
 time. Your letters are such a comfort to 
 me, mother dear. I always carry a couple 
 around with me and wear them out, too. 
 You don't know how cheap money gets over 
 here. I spent fifty francs to-day buying 
 chocolates for my platoon and didn't think 
 anything of it, while in the States a quarter 
 spent on candy would have seemed, at col- 
 lege, extravagant to me. You can truly think 
 of me as being cheerful all the time. Why 
 otherwise ? I have thirty-eight men that if I 
 duck when a shell comes, all thirty-eight duck, 
 and if I smile, the smile goes down the line. I 
 will soon have a substantial mirror in my pla- 
 toon, and then I can judge for myself whether 
 I am worth anything or not. I do try, though, 
 and so I get the credit for it in spite of mis- 
 takes, but I need all your prayers, for this is 
 no easy job, and I appreciate the sensation of 
 making your mind conquer your feet. 
 Always your loving son, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
86 MY GALAHAD 
 
 June 25. 
 Dearest Mother : 
 
 I am at a place now where for the 
 first time in a month I can take off my 
 clothes and change my underclothes, and 
 now I can crawl into my sleeping bag again 
 too, and that is a luxury, for I have been 
 living in a blanket, and I don't have to sleep 
 underground. Oh, there are so many things 
 to be thankful for, I don't know where to 
 start, and yet it is all in the game. I am at 
 a town I visited a couple of months ago and 
 the people I billeted with recognized me im- 
 mediately. Talk about French ! I am so 
 rusty I scarcely could ask for eggs I I 
 don't believe the Germans like to fight 
 against the Americans very well. At least 
 they have to be urged pretty hard to get in 
 the fight. Well, mother dear, remember I 
 am thinking of you constantly and am de- 
 pending upon that smile to pull me through. 
 Ever lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 June 27. 
 Dearest Mother : 
 
 I have received two more of your let- 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 87 
 
 ters, giving me May 22nd, 25th, 28th, 31st, 
 June 5th and 8th, so you can see what a for- 
 tunate chap I am, and believe me they were 
 just feasts and feasts, and to hear you say all 
 those nice things 1 Oh, won't it be great 
 when we finally see each other 1 Again I 
 am where bands play and people laugh and 
 dogs bark, so don't worry about me. Oh, it 
 is so fine to be living in this age and to be 
 doing what I am doing. I have had three 
 months of the joy of living, hard at times to be 
 sure, but such living as would not ordinarily 
 be crowded into as many years. Mother 
 dear, I am afraid I have been writing too 
 much in my letters. I have been making it 
 look as if I were having hardships. At the 
 moment they are hard, but this is not all a 
 rocky road, and we have times when we can 
 fall out on the upward trail and lie under 
 some shade tree and look over the broad 
 valley of happiness back of us, rich with its 
 memories, dotted here and there with groups 
 of memorable occasions, and the crossroads 
 where we made decisions. Then we see 
 joyous fountains where happy moments have 
 been spent, and an occasional fountain of 
 
6S MY GALAHAD 
 
 tears. Old chateaux loom up hid in dark 
 green mysterious forests where we once 
 roved in fancy, and then there are sunken 
 roads where we got in a rut and could not 
 see anything. So much for looking back, 
 but at this resting-point on the hard upward 
 journey one can look forward and see the 
 glorious rising sun, the sun of a splendid 
 democracy breaking in the east, and in the 
 clear morning light the snow on the far dis- 
 tant mountains glistens with the splendors of 
 the rainbow. It is the good man that 
 reaches that goal, but the kero is he who 
 having learned the way comes back and 
 leads up others. Sometimes when I think 
 about getting back to the States and seeing 
 you again, it seems as if I could hardly con- 
 trol myself. I hope that day isn't far ofi, and 
 yet don't think I am slacking any in my 
 desire to do my work here, for I realize I 
 have hardly begun to be useful after my long 
 period of preparation, and I want to be just as 
 useful as possible. I love you heaps and heaps. 
 
 Always, 
 
 Vinton 
 
 P. S. Your last letter told me about your 
 
OF THE TEElsTCHES 89 
 
 plans for the summer, and I think they are 
 perfectly lovely. I hope you have the most 
 wonderful time possible, for no one deserves 
 it more than you, and just think of me as 
 being happy in being able to do my little bit 
 over here, and keep praying that I do it 
 well. There are delicate lines hard to draw. 
 Give my love to grandmother and Aunt Annie. 
 
 July I. 
 Peggy dear : 
 
 Six months is a long time when one 
 considers being away from all ties and all 
 old friends, but such is the power of the pen 
 and mind over matter, that I have been ex- 
 traordinarily fortunate in keeping happy. 
 These sunny days are wonderful, and believe 
 me I am drinking them in to the utmost 
 while I can. Thank you for that lovely 
 little pansy that you enclosed in your letter. 
 I could just picture its original emplacement 
 in your garden, and then the joy it had in 
 being picked and admired by you. Since I 
 have been here I have received seven of the 
 most wonderful letters from mother. They 
 have all been corking and cheering. She is 
 
90 MY GALAHAD 
 
 a wonder. I do not think my cable got 
 through. However I am starting it again, 
 and hope for better results this time. The 
 days are beginning to get shorter again. I 
 hope, no, I wish that I might be back before 
 the shortest day. It is lots of fun just wish- 
 ing for things. One always wishes for things 
 one hasn't got, and one might just as well 
 make his wishes high. I hear the people in 
 the Bronx are thinking it is pretty hard be- 
 cause they don't want to save on coal and 
 have three hot waterless days a week. Over 
 here it is a luxury to have water to wash 
 with, let alone hot water. But I have been 
 living high lately, roast goose at one meal 
 and real doughnuts and flap-jacks. Some- 
 times I recall that last evening when you 
 came over, and we had such a wonderful 
 time together. You remember the little 
 compass you gave me. It has been my con- 
 stant companion ever since. And I have 
 had occasion to use it many times, for di- 
 rections are very easily lost, and not only for 
 physical directions has it served its purpose, 
 but in conjunction with your note I have 
 often pondered over it and got my bearings 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 91 
 
 in other ways. You have been such a won- 
 derful help to me, dear little sister, and your 
 letters have been so fine. I hope the benefit 
 has been passed on to the men under me 
 
 who need it. 
 
 With love, 
 
 Your brother Pink. 
 
 July 3. 
 Mother dear : 
 
 To-day is an anniversary again. Six 
 months since I left you there in the South 
 Station and what a lot we have been ex- 
 periencing since then ! Oh, the joy of living 
 and seeing things happen, watching the 
 wheels of Fortune, how they spin and alter 
 circumstances, and to feel that I am a tiny 
 part of it, no matter how tiny. I have a 
 piece of news I have been wanting to tell 
 you. I received the official copy of my 
 Divisional Citation to-day, for my work in 
 the over-the-top drive May 27th. That 
 means that my name has been before the 
 Major-General of this Division, and the 
 Citation is signed by him for ** conspicuous 
 gallantry, etc." It means now that I have 
 a reputation to live up to, so I must work 
 
92 MY GALAHAD 
 
 harder than before to uphold the Citation. 
 Mother dear, your letters have been a won- 
 derful inspiration to me. If I could tell you 
 a small part of what they have meant to me, it 
 would use up a great part of the Y. M. C. A. 
 stationery in France. May I be worthy of a 
 small fraction of the things you write ! To- 
 morrow is the Fourth, and I imagine there will 
 be great doings in the States. I wish I were 
 there so I could be with you for even twenty- 
 four hours. What a time we would have ! I 
 hope you will have a wonderful summer, and 
 don't do too much worrying. I know it is 
 hard for you to keep from it, and I know what 
 a wonderfully brave little mother you are, and 
 I know you will receive your reward. Your 
 face is constantly before me and inspires me 
 to do my best when the ordinary way is so 
 much simpler. Love to grandmother. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 July 4. 
 Louise dear : 
 
 To-day is another of those glorious 
 
 Fourths, but this has its special significance 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 93 
 
 in the closer alliance of all nations fighting 
 for democracy. Where we are the few 
 French and American flags wave as one, 
 and the Y. M. C. A. is giving a small fete to 
 the boys under the guiding protection of 
 friendly airplanes. Dear little sister, I hope 
 you will keep on sending those lovely letters 
 of yours, for I enjoy them so much. Tell me 
 about yourself and what you are thinking. 
 I have a sort of vague unrest, and I almost 
 wish I were in the front line again. There 
 you don't get time to think too much of 
 home, but here where you do see a few girls 
 you long for the girls in the States. Since I 
 have been in this place I have censored over 
 two hundred letters. I am getting to be 
 quite a clerk, and as for deciphering other 
 men's handwriting, I am getting to be a 
 genius at that. Let me hear from you often 
 for I do love to get your dear letters. 
 
 Always, 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 July 9. 
 Dear Sister Peggy : 
 
 What a wonderful little sister you 
 
94 MY GALAHAD 
 
 are, and what devoted admirers you have 
 scattered all over — and there is one some- 
 where in France who thinks you are just 
 about perfect. I am surely fortunate to have 
 such people as yourself and mother and 
 Louise to think about while I am here. 
 They say the people you associate with show 
 what you are. Well, it is true in the sense 
 that they can make or break you, and hence 
 it is just as true mentally of the people you 
 think about, and I surely can thank God I 
 have my friends to think about. Did I tell 
 you I had received a Divisional Citation for 
 what I did in the first American attack ? I 
 think I will put on my service chevron in 
 another week now. I have been six months 
 in the zone entitling a man to wear one. 
 Again I am out of the trenches, and now I 
 am trying to get some snap into the platoon. 
 I wish I had some of it myself. I am so 
 clumsy I trip over my own feet if I am not 
 careful. It needs a man who has had years 
 of training to train other men. Sometimes I 
 do feel discouraged and feel that I am ab- 
 solutely rotten at leading the men, and then 
 comes along a little bit of encouragement 
 
OF THE TEENCHES 95 
 
 which helps. Just remember, Peggy dear, 
 that whatever happens you have been one 
 of the greatest inspirations I have had. 
 Always your very devoted brother, 
 
 Pink. 
 
 July 12. 
 Mother dearest : 
 
 I could almost write Paris at the head 
 of this letter, for on Bastile Day I expect I 
 shall review there with the selection from this 
 Division. There are only a few from the 
 entire Division, so I feel extremely honored, 
 not only that I was picked, but having lost 
 out once at a toss for going, another position 
 was found on the StafT, and I may parade 
 mounted. Of course this is mere anticipa- 
 tion, and until something has actually taken 
 place in the army, there is no valid foundation 
 for it. I have reorganized my platoon, and 
 it is a difficult task, for I dislike to hurt any 
 man's feelings, but you have to do it for the 
 good of the whole. I think of you constantly 
 and long to be back again where I can look 
 at you, and yet this is the place where I 
 should be, and I am proud to be here. 
 
96 MY GALAHAD 
 
 Sometimes I think it is a great deal better to 
 be a private in the ranks than a second Heu- 
 tenant, but this work has to be done, and I 
 shall continue to try and do it to the best of 
 my ability. I am getting to be rather large 
 without realizing it, for I see men that I think 
 are large, and I find that I am bigger than 
 they are. What a tremendous cause we are 
 fighting for, and how seldom we think of the 
 big issues at stake. That is, some of us over 
 here ! We see the small things in such an 
 all-important light. I will finish this letter in 
 Paris. Heaps of love, and love to grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
 P. S. I will tell you about the Parade later. 
 
 I was in it with flying colors. ** Vive les 
 
 Americaines" was all you could hear, and 
 
 we were smothered with bouquets. I was 
 
 on a horse at the head of the column acting 
 
 as a Staff Officer. " Beaucoup honor" for 
 
 little Pink ! Heaps of love, and it was all 
 
 for you, Darlingest. 
 
 Vinton. 
 
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