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A "Y" Girl in France 
 
 LETTERS OF 
 KATHERINE SHORTALL 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 
V .f 70 
 
 Copyright, 1919, by Richard G. Badger • /, 
 
 O r" 
 
 All Rights Reserved * j.D u 
 
 MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 
 
 TP9 Gqjisam Frbss, Boston, U. S. a. 
 
 JAN 29 1920 
 
 CG)G!A5B M-JHT 
 
At the solicitation of many friends I am pub- 
 lishing, unknown to my daughter, these letters 
 written by her while in the service of the Y. M. C. 
 A. The letters have come to me scribbled in lead 
 pencil and in every color of ink upon an assortment 
 of stationery that in itself revealed the snatching 
 of whatever opportunity to write occurred in a 
 busy life. 
 
 I make here public apology to the author if I 
 have caused to be printed anything she would pre- 
 fer not to have said outside the family circle. 
 
 The spirit manifest in these letters has been that 
 of hundreds of girls wearing the same colors, do- 
 ing faithfully and perseveringly the work that was 
 given them to do, whether it chanced to be dra- 
 matic and exhilarating or plain drudgery. To each 
 one of them as she doffs her uniform I would say, 
 in the recent happy phrasing of a statesman: 
 "Let us not demobilize the Spirit of Helpful- 
 ness I" and with sincere homage I dedicate this 
 little book 
 
 TO OUR "Y" GIRLS. 
 
 M. C. S. 
 
 September, 19 19. 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
A "Y" Girl in France 
 
 Monday, Dec. 23, 19 18. 
 Well, dear Family, here I am at sea, and every- 
 thing is fine. At noon on Saturday our tugs pulled 
 us away from the dock ahead of the "Prinzes 
 Juliana" which lay alongside. Great waving of 
 handkerchiefs between the blue-hatted crowds of 
 Y. M. C. A. girls on both ships. The harbor was 
 misty and the sky line of New York was very 
 beautiful and shadowy. As we steamed out we 
 passed the "Baltic" coming in, laden with troops. 
 The boys were wild with enthusiasm at returning 
 home. Many had climbed way up the rigging and 
 as we passed they all cheered and we cheered back, 
 and handkerchiefs fluttered and hats were waved. 
 Then we went by the Statue of Liberty and out to 
 sea. Before long the deck was covered with tiredY. 
 M.C.A.girls lying prostrate in their steamer chairs 
 with their eyes closed. You never saw so many 
 green capes and blue hats in your life I We are in 
 the great majority on the boat. The sea was calm 
 and silvery, and it was delicious to have nothing 
 to do but to enjoy it and to let that salt water leth- 
 argy creep over you. However, I also felt a cold 
 
 7 
 
8 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 creeping over me, in spite of "red pills" and fresh 
 air, and Sunday when I woke up I had a feeling in 
 my chest that made me decide the better part of 
 valor was to remain in bed. It was a nuisance, 
 because the weather outside was like a day in 
 June. I looked out of the porthole onto a level 
 blue sea and warm, balmy air blew in. It was un- 
 believable. The ship's doctor visited me, tapped 
 me and put on a hot compress, and I lay in my up- 
 per berth all day in a sort of feverish stupor, en- 
 joying the faint motion of the ship and the singing 
 from the church service which floated in to me 
 clearly, and this morning I woke up practically 
 well. I have been out all day, walked four miles 
 and feel splendid. Such weather you never 
 dreamed of for December. Clear blue skies, a 
 chipper breeze off the starboard bow and waves 
 just big enough to make us pitch gently in a very 
 unobjectionable way. This evening's clouds are 
 piling up round the horizon, so who knows but old 
 Eolus may be getting ready to send us a Christmas 
 present. 
 
 There are four girls to each stateroom. My 
 room-mates are very nice girls, and we get along 
 very well in spite of the congestion. There is a 
 Miss S., a very splendid, dark-haired, athletic- 
 looking girl who attracts me exceedingly. Then 
 there is Miss A. from Baltimore, with a strong 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 9 
 
 Southern accent, kind-hearted and sensible. Also 
 a quiet little mouse of a girl, Miss C, who is very 
 earnest and wants to improve each moment, and 
 was quite worried about herself because she sat in 
 her chair a whole afternoon and didn't do any- 
 thing. 
 
 There is a sprinkling of Englishmen on board, 
 a few American men, ten Japanese, an Italian Col- 
 onel who apparently is very much of a lady-killer, 
 one Y. M. C. A. man and about a hundred of us in 
 our high collars and greenish suits. 
 
 The "Caronia" has been an armored cruiser in 
 the Pacific during the first part of the war, and 
 then was hastily fitted up to carry troops. She is 
 in rather bad condition, battered and dirty. Nev- 
 ertheless ship life seems just what it was before the 
 war. The food is good, tea is served, the attend- 
 ants with their nice English voices are all so re- 
 markably courteous and — charming I That is the 
 only word for it. And now I must go and dress 
 for dinner, which means, I shall put on a clean high 
 collar. Ugh 1 
 
 Sunday, Dec. 29th. 
 
 I must tell you about our Christmas at sea. It 
 
 is the custom on all English ships for the stewards 
 
 at midnight to go all through the ships singing 
 
 carols. As I lay in my berth I heard them begin, 
 
10 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 such a fine men's chorus, singing in harmony. They 
 came down our corridor, passed us, the sound 
 gradually dying away, then the "Y" girls began 
 and also went all over the ship, singing very well. 
 Christmas was a wet, foggy day. The old "Ca- 
 ronia" would put her nose down into a wave and 
 send a shower of spray over the decks. There 
 were a few seasick people, yet one would hardly 
 have called it rough. In the morning there was 
 a short Christmas service, but the nicest part of 
 the day came in the afternoon and will always 
 stand out in my memory. All the girls had a tre- 
 mendous lot of candy and fruit, and they decided 
 to divide it all up so that every man employed on 
 board the ship should get a present from the Y. 
 M. C. A. In the afternoon we all went way down 
 into the lower regions of the ship to sing and to 
 distribute our gifts. There all the men who work 
 down in the darkness were assembled. The *'Y" 
 girls sang, then the men sang, Christmas carols at 
 first, but the party got merrier and merrier, and 
 funny songs and solos and stunts of all kinds were 
 performed. An old piano had been brought down. 
 One of the stewards, a true comedian, gave us sev- 
 eral awfully good songs, with a charm and a 
 rhythm that were quite irresistible. One little 
 Irish-looking boy with waving dark hair and a 
 mischievous, sensitive face, sang cockney songs, 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE ii 
 
 the others joining in the chorus. Then, as the 
 "Y" girls sang a catchy "rag" he was pushed for- 
 ward and began a nimble clog dance. The first 
 thing I knew, I was in the ring dancing with him ! 
 There was a shout of surprise from everybody, and 
 they kept us at it over and over again. Finally we 
 left, feeling really happy. It had been one of 
 those rare parties where every one contributed to 
 the entertainment. A few days later the enclosed 
 expression of gratitude from the "catering depart- 
 ment" was handed to each "Y" girl, also several 
 others, equally appreciative, from the engineers 
 and members of the crew. 
 
 The day after Xmas is a holiday in England. 
 The men were again trying to have a little festivity 
 down below and I was asked to go down and dance 
 for them, so of course I did. I did the "Cachuca" 
 to horrible old waltz music banged out by one of 
 the stewards, I did every dance I ever knew and 
 more than I knew; and then we had songs and 
 more stunts from the men. Such good songs, and 
 so catchy. It was great fun, and the men were so 
 appreciative. And all down in the dark, damp, 
 unknown region of a big ship I 
 
 The American men on board are not to our 
 country's credit; a poor lot. The Italian colonel 
 is the centre of attraction. He is a fascinating per- 
 son, liked by men and women equally. He has 
 
12 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 borrowed my guitar for the voyage and sings and 
 whistles to delighted groups. 
 
 This morning, after a foggy but calm voyage, 
 we came up on deck to find everything glistening 
 in sun. The sea was streaked in green and black 
 and the white caps gleamed, while ever widening 
 patches of blue appeared among the clouds. To 
 port, barely distinguishable in the gray clouds, was 
 Ireland. Pretty soon, on the other side, Wales 
 came into sight. The day has become brighter 
 and brighter. Continually we pass little steamers. 
 There is the thrill of approaching land. We do 
 not know where we are going. Such a delightful, 
 irresponsible sensation 1 I know just how a boy 
 must feel in the army. 
 
 New Year's Day, 1919. 
 
 Here I am, writing like any soldier at a Y. M. 
 C. A. canteen in Liverpool. There are four of us 
 crowded round one little table in a large, bare, 
 smoky room. The place is buzzing with soldiers, 
 a game of billiards is going on in one corner and 
 in another a graphophone is never allowed one 
 moment's rest. 
 
 You would laugh, (or perhaps you wouldn't!) if 
 you could see me camping out in the wilds of Eng- 
 land. Sunday night when we were all at dinner on 
 the "Caronia" the engines suddenly stopped throb- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 13 
 
 bing, and when we went up on deck there were the 
 lights of Liverpool on either side of us, a sky full 
 of stars above, and little lighted steamers scud- 
 ding about. We were to ride at anchor in the 
 harbor all night. A tug brought the Alien Officer 
 on board, and each one of us and our passports 
 had to undergo his scutiny. It was a tedious bus- 
 iness, and as I did not come till near the end of 
 the alphabet he didn't get around to me till after 
 midnight. One thing I have learned already is the 
 immense advantage of belonging to the first of 
 the alphabet. Your future is made or marred by 
 your initial. 
 
 Monday we were up at five thirty, and finally, 
 after interminable bustle and waiting and crowd- 
 ing, we and our luggage were through the customs. 
 The Y. M. C. A. here weren't expecting us, and 
 were rather overwhelmed at the prospect of hous- 
 ing us. They got accommodations for the first 
 thirty (of the alphabet) at a good hotel. The re- 
 maining sixty-five were sent to a Y. M. C. A. hut 
 called Lincoln Lodge, where one floor of soldiers' 
 barracks was turned over to us. Imagine a huge 
 chill room with brick walls, containing four hun- 
 dred double-decker beds and nothing else. The 
 atmosphere was like a tightly bottled and pre- 
 served London fog. It was raining outside. On 
 each bed was a burlap-hay mattress and a coarse 
 
14 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 blanket. After lunch downstairs I fixed myself up 
 in my own blankets with my fur coat on top, got 
 very comfortable and had a three hours' rest. 
 Every night I ever spent on the rocky ground at 
 our Mountain Lake stood me in good stead, and 
 I didn't mind my lumpy, "roily" mattress a bit, but 
 it has been hard on many of the girls. That night 
 I slept twelve and a half hours, and woke at nine 
 thirty yesterday much refreshed. In the morning 
 I helped with the dish washing down in the can- 
 teen in the basement; such a filthy place I don't 
 wonder the "flu" spreads. I don't want to begin 
 to criticise so soon, but if I see much more of the 
 conditions I saw there I shall do my little bit to in- 
 stigate a reform, at least where I work. 
 
 In the afternoon I went with a nice Washington 
 girl, Miss P. and a great enormous Irish officer 
 with a gentle smile and sweet voice, to see a Ger- 
 man submarine in the harbor. It was one of their 
 largest models which has surrendered. We were 
 allowed on board and examined it all. It gave me 
 a strange feeling to be walking that deck and to 
 read the German signs everywhere, and to see 
 those deadly guns, now become the playthings of 
 little boys who swarmed over the boat and up into 
 the gunners' seats. 
 
 New Year's Eve the Y. M. C. A. made use of 
 all of us girls and gave a dance, five of us furnish- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 15 
 
 ing the music, I alternately playing my guitar and 
 then using it as a drum, beating it on the back with 
 my ring. It made quite a hit. And really with 
 two violins, ukulele and piano we weren't a half 
 bad orchestra. The "Y" men were immensely 
 grateful as they had searched the town unsuccess- 
 fully for a band. The place was jammed with sol- 
 diers, American, Canadian and British, and really 
 it was a very jolly, nice affair. And now we are 
 on the point of departure for London. 
 
 Paris, January 12, 19 19. 
 So much has happened since I wrote you from 
 Liverpool and we have all passed through so many 
 moods that I wonder whether I can think back 
 and tell you everything. We left Liverpool for 
 London a hundred strong, the Y. M. C. A. hav- 
 ing reserved enough first class coaches for us all. 
 We were a jolly party in our compartment. I 
 played the guitar and we all sang. We had after- 
 noon tea served at stations and it was all very 
 much like peace times except that the train was not 
 heated at all and was excessively damp and cold, 
 and in the compartments were various signs order- 
 ing the public to keep the shades down after dark 
 and on no account to let any light show. The Eng- 
 lish landscape was beautiful, soft and undulating, 
 but damp looking. That dampness gets into your 
 
i6 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 soul. The trees were brown, without leaves, yet 
 the grass in the fields was vivid green. 
 
 We arrived in London after dark, about eight 
 p. m. There we were met by some "Y" men, and 
 after the identification of baggage, which with a 
 hundred girls is a desperate affair, we were all 
 loaded into huge trucks or "brakes" as they call 
 them, and carted to our various destinations. 
 About twenty of us were dumped out at the Mel- 
 bourne Hotel, a decidedly God-forsaken place just 
 off Russell Square. There I shared a room with 
 Miss P. an awfully nice Washington girl. If you 
 could see that room! It was desperately cold, and 
 so damp the towels were wet. A broken gas man- 
 tle way up near the ceiling gave a dim greenish 
 light which seemed to mix up with the fog and be- 
 come part of the oppressing atmosphere. We were 
 back in the land of pitcher and bowl and slop jar, 
 and brushing your teeth from a tumbler. Neither 
 of us had heroism enough to bathe, but crawled 
 Into our humid bed with sweaters and warm wrap- 
 pers and bedsocks on, and all the capes and fur 
 coats piled on top. Somehow we shivered our- 
 selves to sleep. 
 
 The next morning the sun was actually shining. 
 After a sloppy breakfast, we all reported at the 
 Imperial Hotel where we were given instructions 
 on all kinds of things. We were to be sent to Paris 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 17 
 
 in relays just as quickly as possible. In the mean- 
 time London was ours. Miss P., who knew Lon- 
 don, and I went shopping. I was chiefly interested 
 in discovering all evidences of war. London had 
 changed somehow, yet not exactly in the way one 
 might vaguely imagine. Shopes were all thriving 
 apparently. Liberty's windows as entrancing as 
 ever, movement and crowds everywhere. Yet if 
 you observed closely you saw how few automo- 
 biles and taxis there were, though the busses were 
 the same as ever, except that there were women- 
 conductors. The streets were absolutely flooded 
 with men in uniform, soldiers of all kinds. There 
 were many Australians and New Zealanders, tall, 
 lean men with weather-beaten faces and a certain 
 attractive swagger which is augmented by their 
 broad-brimmed hats turned up at one side. Cana- 
 dians were everywhere, and in less numbers, Amer- 
 icans. And of course the British in their splendid 
 uniforms with their unmistakable bearing. I was 
 glad to see so many, many specimens of noble An- 
 glo-Saxons. They seem to me to be the hope of 
 England. The most striking of all are the Scotch; 
 perfect giants of men, in their kilts and plaids, 
 bare knees and all. Then there were many wound- 
 ed, men wearing the blue hospital uniform, with 
 arms and legs gone, heads bandaged, limping forth 
 to get the air ; but most of them smiling. Miss P. 
 
1 8 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 and I decided that the greatest evidence of the 
 terrible strain of war was in the expression of peo- 
 ple on the street. No one ever smiled. Faces 
 were dull and joyless. Clothes were old. Shoes 
 were shapeless and soggy. Every one seemed 
 hopeless rather than actively sorrowful. And in 
 the keen, blonde faces of the men one sees about 
 Whitehall, the men on the inside of affairs, there 
 was a far-away, set, determined expression. 
 
 We had arrived in London on New Year's day, 
 Wednesday, and were to leave on Sunday. Sun- 
 day afternoon we were all taken to South Hamp- 
 ton and after interminable business at the customs 
 house we boarded a channel boat for Havre. A 
 smooth passage. At 5.45 a. m. I looked out of 
 the porthole and there was the shore of France, 
 all black, with little lights twinkling and a great 
 white searchlight flashing back and forth over the 
 water. After breakfast, when we went up on deck, 
 the sky was rosy with the approaching sunrise, and 
 suddenly in a burst of glory the sun came out of a 
 golden cloud and warmed us all I It was an inde- 
 scribably beautiful scene. The masts of many 
 ships and all the ropes and rigging against the 
 glowing pink clouds In the sky, the beloved bustle 
 of a harbor, the French language, the smiling 
 French faces, the excitement of arrival at dawn, 
 all made us happy, and I, for one, loved France 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 19 
 
 with all my heart at that moment. Wc were gath- 
 ered on the wharf for some time, where we 
 watched red-capped German prisoners unloading 
 our trunks from the ship. Then, in rows of fours, 
 we were marched up through the muddy streets to 
 the Y. M. C. A. headquarters. There we were 
 given a good, direct talk by the man in charge and 
 were again marched off for an early luncheon. My 
 admiration for the Y. M. C. A. is rising contin- 
 ually. I am proud and thrilled to be a part of it. 
 I am glad I came. 
 
 "Premiere Classe" coaches were reserved for 
 us on our trip to Paris. We left Havre at noon, 
 closely packed into our compartments. Such won- 
 derful country as we went through 1 We stopped 
 at Rouen and had fine views of the Cathedral, the 
 excited *'Y" girls running from one side of the 
 car to the other in their effort to miss nothing. In 
 the Rouen station a fine old lady was giving cof- 
 fee at a Red Cross canteen. A continuous stream 
 of soldiers in blue came up to her booth. I saw 
 one greenish-coated Italian soldier step up and or- 
 der coffee just as a French soldier was beginning 
 his. The two chinked their cups together, while 
 the shrewd-faced old lady in her flowing Red Cross 
 cap beamed at them. 
 
 The train then became crowded, and a French 
 soldier came into our compartment. I got to talk- 
 
26 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 ing with him. He had been a prisoner in Germany 
 ever since August, 19 14, and had been back in 
 France just five days. He was very young, with 
 one of the saddest faces I ever saw. I asked him 
 how he had been treated. He said that he had 
 never seen any cruelty to prisoners, except that the 
 last two years of the war they had been so poorly 
 nourished. Much else he told us about the French 
 attitude toward their allies. I have talked with 
 many French and American boys during this past 
 week and have heard many stories, but they must 
 wait till I get home. Apparently the men in the 
 ranks from Australia, Canada and the United 
 States, get on well with each other and with the 
 French, but they say many things against the Eng- 
 lish. I think this is due to a sort of provincial 
 antipathy on the part of our boys to anything "dif- 
 ferent" from what they are used to. I have run 
 against this attitude in many since I have been 
 here and it seems to me a great pity. Whenever I 
 hear boys talking against the English I am going 
 to try to make them see differently. I have found 
 one exception. Such a nice boy whom I talked 
 with yesterday in the train. He had been in the 
 one U. S. division that fought at Ypres. As he de- 
 scribed the battle line his face was drawn with the 
 horror of it, yet he had to talk about it, and I let 
 him, hoping he would "get it off his chest" that 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 21 
 
 way. "One thing is," he said, "that no one knows 
 what the British have been through in this war. 
 Terrible as the Marne and the Argonne were, 
 Ypres was ten times worse. It was the most fright- 
 ful place on the front, and the British have done 
 wonders In holding it." 
 
 He told me of many of the horrors, and talked 
 about the wonderful chaplain of his regiment who 
 ministered to the dying boys wherever they fell 
 and who saw to it that the thousands of unburied 
 dead were buried and their identification tags se- 
 cured. He said that you could tell by looking at a 
 Prussian officer that he would stick a knife through 
 a baby ! Then we got to talking about his home In 
 Ohio. When we parted he gave my hand a grip 
 like a vise and said: "You're the first honest-to- 
 goodness American girl I've talked to for fifteen 
 months. I sure won't forget you I" To digress 
 still further, I just want to say that It Is a new and 
 I believe quite wonderful experiment, this sending 
 of the right sort of girls to work and to associate 
 with the boys in the army. War is bad. The herd- 
 ing of men in armies is bad. I have never before 
 realized how much men need good women. It Is 
 up to us to be good, in all the joyous, efficient, and 
 true sense of the word. 
 
 To return to our trip to Paris. After our sol- 
 dier left us, two nice French women squeezed into 
 
22 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 our compartment. The train got fuller and fuller. 
 In the corridor a tall English officer sat on his bag 
 and puffed his pipe at us. Next to him three ex- 
 uberant French poilus half lay and half sat all in 
 a heap, their shrapnel helmets, canteens and packs 
 piled about them. There was much laughter and 
 snatches of song among them, and many winks at 
 the English officer who remained supremely indif- 
 ferent to them. One of them smoked two ciga- 
 rettes at a time for our benefit, sometimes puffing 
 one through his nose and the other through his 
 mouth. It was long after dark, and we had had 
 nothing to eat or drink since eleven a. m., and 
 we were all squeezed so tight we couldn't move. 
 At last I offered the officer my large suitcase for a 
 seat, which he accepted. One of the French sol- 
 diers sat on it with him, the ice was broken, and we 
 all had a very delightful time till we got to Paris 
 at midnight. A hasty bite at the canteen, and we 
 were rushed to another station and put on the 
 train for Versailles where a hotel was re- 
 served for us. There we have stayed under 
 very damp and cold conditions, going into Paris 
 every day for more conferences, physical examin- 
 ations, etc. Tomorrow I expect to receive my as- 
 signment. I have no idea where it will be. 
 
 You should see la Place de la Concorde. All 
 the captured German guns have been gathered 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 23 
 
 there. These great, hideous things fascinate me 
 in a strange way, and I wandered among them the 
 other day examining them. There are hundreds 
 of trench mortars that sent the dreaded "Minnen- 
 wurfer" ; ugly, chunky guns, peculiarly vicious 
 looking. Around the obelisk are arranged the long- 
 distance guns, their gigantic muzzles pointing in 
 the air. Hundreds and hundreds of guns ! As you 
 look toward the Arc de Triomphe the Champs 
 Elysees is lined on both sides with guns close to- 
 gether, all the way. They are all camouflaged, 
 mottled and streaked in green and brown. It is 
 bewildering to look at them. They are the sym- 
 bol, I suppose, of a great indelible mark in the 
 book of history, which later generations will gaze 
 on with curiosity. But now, one little mortal stand- 
 ing in the presence of those recently silenced 
 mouths, can only shiver and go away. It is too 
 soon. 
 
 January 24th. 
 I have hated to write for the simple reason that 
 I have been having bronchitis. Not serious at 
 all, but I thought a whole ocean between us might 
 make you think it was serious. Really, if I had 
 to be sick, I am lucky to have been here in comfort- 
 able quarters with medical care and no one de- 
 pending on me for work. But it was a nuisance and 
 a delay when I didn't want to be delayed. 
 
24 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 January 26th. 
 
 I have been out now, yesterday and to-day and 
 am feeling finely. Here in Paris the "Y" has its 
 own medical staff and all its workers are given the 
 best of care. Out "in the field" we come under 
 the army doctor's care. But I don't expect to 
 need any such care. I have received my assign- 
 ment which is Semur, somewhere near Dijon. All 
 I can find out about it is that there is mud and that 
 I "shall be on my own resources and initiative a 
 good deal." They must have some confidence in 
 me. Oh, I am so eager to get to work! 
 
 It is wonderful to be in Paris just now, even 
 though one must stay indoors. I find the French 
 newspapers intensely interesting and read them 
 from cover to cover. A truly lofty spirit runs 
 through them all. The men who write the editor- 
 ials are certainly spiritual leaders, public teachers 
 and guides. I keep running across things I want 
 to send to you just to show what an elevating 
 force a newspaper can be. It is because they, 
 with every other industry, have been working for 
 the salvation of their country. And yet — Europe 
 is blind. Never has there been such need for 
 understanding of economics and Christian 
 strength. Thank heaven, some of the leaders of 
 the Peace Conference seem to possess both I 
 
 Yesterday I passed one of the "mutiles de la 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 25 
 
 guerre." He had no legs. He was propelling 
 himself by his hands and arms in a sort of bicycle, 
 crossing the street valiantly. A steamer rug de- 
 cently wrapped around him concealed his deform- 
 ity. He was in his uniform. The machine struck 
 the curb and stopped. He could not force it over. 
 How happy I was to be there for just that 
 moment 1 I easily lifted him and helped him over. 
 He thanked me with sweet French courtesy, and 
 he went on, and I went on; but his gentle, thin, 
 suffering face I 
 
 One sees almost none of the terrible results of 
 war in Paris. London was far, far worse. I am 
 told that the French Government has provided 
 other places for "les mutiles." Instead, all over 
 Paris are sturdy bands of little "poilus," march- 
 ing in their extremely supple order. And many 
 times a day squads of French cavalry go clatter- 
 ing under my window. The reserves are being 
 demobilized and they are everywhere. 
 
 Pouillenay, France, 
 February 7, 19 19. 
 Dearest Family: If I have let more than a 
 week go by since my last letter please forgive 
 me. These have been days full of events, and in 
 the brief intervals between events I have had to 
 rest in order to keep a fuU supply of energy on 
 
26 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 tap for the occasion to come. When one Is the 
 only woman among some 1500 men, one must not 
 slump. But I'll tell you all about it. 
 
 On the Monday after I wrote you last, the 
 doctor signed my release and things began to 
 move. I was to go to Semur, in Burgundy. I 
 knew no more about it than that. Tuesday, at 
 2.30 I was to pull out of the Gare de Lyons. 
 
 In order to travel in France which Is all under 
 military rule, a great many documents, tickets, 
 and identification papers are necessary, and It 
 takes a great deal of labor and patience to pro- 
 cure them all. The Y. M. C. A. office in Paris 
 is an enormous and hectic place, with its various 
 departments poorly co-ordinated; so I, like every 
 one else, did a great deal of running up and down 
 stairs and much retracing of steps before every- 
 thing concerning baggage, tickets, money, equip- 
 ment, mail, etc., was attended to. 
 
 Tuesday morning, I and my baggage were at the 
 station two hours ahead of train-time as I had been 
 warned was necessary. There I received the joy- 
 ful news that there was no 2.30 train to Semur. 
 That there was one at nine in the evening and an- 
 other at 7.00 a. m. I had been in France long 
 enough not to be upset by a mere trifle like that, 
 so I set about registering my baggage and attend- 
 ing to the dozens of things that are necessary at 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 27 
 
 the station. A most delightful old porter was my 
 guide, counsellor and friend, leading me through 
 the maze of red tape with unfaltering steps. I 
 entrusted all my handbaggage to him for the night, 
 which would seem rash to all who hadn't looked in- 
 to his shrewd and kindly face. And then I walked 
 back into Paris with only a toothbrush in my 
 pocket. After reporting my delay at headquar- 
 ters, who scowled at me for their mistake, I got 
 a room at the Hotel Richepanse, near the Place de 
 la Concorde. Rooms are hard to find in Paris 
 these days, and I had to do a good deal of wander- 
 ing before I secured this one. I was glad I didn't 
 have my copious and heavy luggage. After a good 
 rest, I did a little frivolous shopping, including a 
 fetching and most unmilitary hat. Heaven knows 
 when 1 shall wear it, but it folds up flat and I 
 couldn't resist it. And I had supper with a harm- 
 less little "Y" girl and went to bed early. 
 
 The next morning at 5.30 I crept down six 
 flights of stairs in the pitch dark. By the light of 
 a candle in the lobby an old woman gave me a cup 
 of black coffee and a hunk of bread. I drank the 
 coffee and took the bread and went out into the 
 blue black of just-before-dawn. The street was de- 
 serted, and I munched my bread as I hurried 
 along. My adventure was beginning ! Arriving at 
 La Place de la Concorde I could see the obelisk 
 
28 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 and the yawning guns silhouetted against the light- 
 ing sky. I went down into the Metro and in time 
 arrived at the station. My dear old porter was 
 outside looking for me. We got the bags and gui- 
 tar, and he Installed me in a first class compart- 
 ment where there were already two French officers. 
 With much courteous fuss, room was made for me 
 and the bags were stowed away on top. Then I 
 asked the porter to buy for me the "Echo de 
 Paris" paying him for all he had done. We wait- 
 ed for some time, and the officer sitting next to me, 
 an elderly gentleman in a great bearskin coat over 
 his uniform, offered me his paper, saying, "He will 
 never bring you yours, Mademoiselle; you have 
 too much confidence in these men." "Oh, I am 
 sure he will bring it," I replied. "II a ete si aim- 
 able pour mol tout le temps;" which made both 
 men smile and shrug their shoulders. 
 
 The whistle blew, the train jerked, when sud- 
 denly the door opened and there was the fat old 
 porter all out of breath with my newspaper. 
 "Voila, Mademoiselle I" he cried, flourishing it 
 at me." They didn't have the Echo in the station 
 and I had to go way up the street for it." And the 
 Frenchmen cheered! 
 
 Two nice American officers came into our com- 
 partment and we all had breakfast together in the 
 dining-car. Everybody talks to everybody else in 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 29 
 
 France now. They got off the train in an hour or 
 so, and I was left to the mercies of the French 
 army which immediately started a rapid cross-fire 
 of conversation with me as the target. In reality 
 we, or at least I, had an awfully good time and 
 they told me many amusing and interesting things 
 which I can't tell you because I foresee that this 
 letter Is going to be horribly long. 
 
 At two o'clock I got off at a God-forsaken little 
 junction called Les Laumes. My spirits were high, 
 however, because all around were snow-covered 
 beautiful hills, patches of woods, and winding 
 roads outlined by slender poplars with bunches of 
 green mistletoe growing way up in their branches. 
 There are many Americans billeted at Les 
 Laumes. Poor boys! A big M. P. (military po- 
 liceman) met me at the station. The M. P. is 
 your salvation if you are honest and your terror if 
 you are not. This was a tall, powerful, bushy- 
 eyebrowed young westerner. He picked up my 
 bags as if they were nothing at all and escorted me 
 to the restaurant. 
 
 How can I ever begin to describe to you the 
 sweetness and the fineness of our boys over herd 
 I am proud, proud of America. I love the real 
 spirit of her which these boys have preserved and 
 strengthened in these little villages way off in 
 France. You think I ought to work with children. 
 
30 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 But I tell you these boys are children ; wonderfully 
 powerful and dexterous children; and I play and 
 work with them as though they were children, and 
 we have had happy times together. I see now 
 what there is for me to do. I pray that I may do 
 it, in order to help them and be worthy of them 
 during these difficult, tedious, dangerous days of 
 waiting, with nothing to do. 
 
 But to return to my nice M. P. with the bushy 
 eyebrows. He got me an army car to take me 
 to Semur, with a soft-voiced Southerner to run 
 it. It was a delightful ride of twenty miles or 
 so through chilly country glistening with snow; 
 and all the time the boy talked of home in Mis- 
 sissippi, and his mother, and what he wanted to 
 do when he got back. He took me to the Y. M. 
 C. A. headquarters at Semur. There I met Mr. 
 M. of Salem, Mass., who is my chief. It seems 
 that Semur is the centre of all Y. M. C. A. activ- 
 ities with the 78th Division which did much heroic 
 fighting all along the front. Mr. M. is a delight- 
 ful gentleman and a real man. He has been with 
 the boys in the midst of the fighting. We had a 
 good talk. He finally decided to send me to 
 Pouillenay with the 2nd Battalion of the 311th 
 Infantry, 78th Division. "This is an experiment. 
 Miss Shortall," he said. "You will be the only 
 American woman in the town. The town is off 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 31 
 
 the main line and the boys have not had their 
 share of comforts and amusements. The "Y" 
 has run to the dogs. Everything Is gloomy. Do 
 you want the job?" I said It was just what I 
 wanted. The next morning a nice "Y" man put 
 me and my baggage into a car and ran me over 
 to Poulllenay about ten miles over the hills. 
 
 Pouillenay is a tiny, peaked-roofed village of 
 mud and stones, with a river babbling through its 
 centre where the women wash and the geese 
 wade, and old stone bridges span it. All about 
 are hills, lovely hills. In this French setting, 
 place 1500 American boys in khaki! They are 
 everywhere 1 The dazed and stupefied old na- 
 tives wandering around in their wooden shoes are 
 in the minority. The crooked streets resound to 
 American voices, American jokes and songs, and 
 huge U. S. trucks go thundering over the ancient 
 cobblestones, while the insulted geese go to the 
 side of the road looking so wrathfuUy dignified 
 and stately that I laugh every time I see them, 
 and the black and white speckled hens shriek and 
 run for their lives in all directions, often into the 
 houses whose doors are on the level with the 
 street. This town was to be my home. I was left 
 in the care of Lieutenant Robinson, who has been 
 most kind to me, as every one else has been. 
 
32 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 (I'll send you descriptions of my friends here 
 after I discover who censors the mail!) 
 
 Billets were found for me at the house of 
 Mme. and M. Gloriod, the nicest old couple that 
 ever were. I have a tiny room with a tiny stove, 
 which nevertheless eats lots of wood. Madame 
 Cloriod, energetic and kindhearted, rosy-cheeked 
 and jolly, brings a delicious breakfast to me every 
 morning and lights my fire. Talk about luxury I 
 And I eat it in leisure from the depths of my vol- 
 uminous bed. (More undeserved good luck, 
 mother 1) And all this costs me about three 
 francs a day. My regular "mess" aside from 
 breakfast is at Battalion Headquarters, presided 
 over by Major S. who they say was a well known 
 New York lawyer before the war. He is in every 
 way a cultivated gentleman admired by the whole 
 battalion. He has been extremely kind to me, 
 making me feel quite at home. At his mess are 
 six other officers, lieutenants of various colors. 
 I have also dined with the officers of the other 
 companies and it is very jolly. But I am not here 
 for the gay life; don't believe it. My head- 
 quarters is the Y canteen, a miserable little room 
 with a counter, a stove, and rough benches around 
 it. The men pour in here and smoke and talk. 
 My guitar is at their disposal and they use it. 
 Often I play it and we have real sings. My third 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 33 
 
 night, while a group of us were singing, Corporal 
 Johnson, of F Company, huge and sandy-haired, 
 and Corporal Martin, stalwart and handsome, 
 burst into the crowded room followed by other 
 members of F Co. "Clear the way!" shouted 
 Corporal Martin, making his way toward me, 
 and then with a sweeping bow and with a grand 
 manner he invited me to "mess" with the men 
 of the best platoon of the best company of the 
 best battalion of the best etc., etc., on the fol- 
 lowing evening. Of course I accepted on the 
 spot. "Now shall we give the lady a song?" 
 said Sergeant Riggs, stepping out. And they 
 sang. They raised the roof! Great songs they 
 were too. Then I was presented with a mess kit 
 just like the soldiers and with mock solemnity 
 was given a lesson in how to use it. Then I re- 
 hearsed it for their benefit, my purposeful blun- 
 ders calling forth roars of laughter. 
 
 The next evening they called for me. In army 
 style we marched snappily through the streets 
 to F Co. mess hall, a long wooden building with 
 dirt floor. I was placed in the front row with 
 a corporal on either side to keep me in position. 
 The mess was a real and delicious feast. Those 
 boys had contributed extra to it, and a whole pig 
 had been roasted, not to mention caldrons of 
 vegetables, jelly-cake, doughnuts, and coffee — 
 
34 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 sweetened coffee 1 I drank a quart of it at least. 
 Then Sergeant RIggs, a humorous character and 
 my staunch friend now, gave a speech welcoming 
 me to Pouillenay. I can tell you it made the tears 
 come to my eyes, these men, so chivalrous, so 
 unreserved in their welcome of a woman into 
 their midst; and I dedicated myself there and 
 then to them, resolved to do everything in my 
 power to make their stay here brighter and bet- 
 ter. But the biggest thing that I do is not of my 
 doing at all; it lies in simply being a woman. 
 You really wouldn't laugh if you were over here 
 and saw these boys hungering for love and for 
 home. Well, of course I answered the sergeant's 
 speech, and then there was cheering and then sing- 
 ing. Corporal Martin then stepped forward and 
 said in his oratorical manner. "We have now come 
 to the conclusion of this ceremony, which con- 
 sists in your washing your mess kit." Roars of 
 laughter I I was placed in the line and we all 
 moved up to the garbage pail; next, to a huge 
 tank of decidedly greasy hot water into which 
 we plunged our mess kits; then on to a kettle of 
 rinsing water where we gave them another dip. 
 That being over, I was invited to a show given by 
 one of the other companies in one of the mess 
 halls, and as there was half an hour to spare, it 
 was decided that we have a parade through the 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 35 
 
 town. Of course it was dark by this time. So 
 with a sergeant taking one arm and a corporal 
 the other, we marched and marched, singing all 
 the time, through the little black streets, up the 
 hill and round the church and down again, over 
 the bridge and back to the mess hall where the 
 show awaited us. "Now you can write home that 
 you have marched with the American army," said 
 Sergeant Riggs. 
 
 On another day I happened to be passing when 
 F Co. was drilling. The sergeant insisted that I 
 join the ranks. So with a rifle I blundered through 
 the drill, my mistakes causing much merriment. 
 
 I really have been doing a little work; don't 
 worry. I have been cook and nurse for three boys 
 with influenza, two in their gloomy billets and the 
 other in a cold, damp house. That has taken a 
 good deal of time. Also the Y. M. C. A. has just 
 put up a large tent to be used instead of its present 
 Inadequate quarters and I, with the help of many 
 boys, have been fixing it up. On Wednesday I 
 went to Semur on a shopping tour, riding in on an 
 open limber drawn by mules. The driver told me 
 those mules had delivered many loads of rations to 
 the boys in the front trenches by night and had 
 been through gas and shell fire of the worst kind. 
 It seems that mules can stand much more than 
 horses. At the Semur Y. M. C. A. I was able to 
 
36 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 get flags and posters, tables and benches for our 
 tent, which were loaded on to the limber. The 
 next day we set to work on our interior decorating. 
 Never did the hanging of magnificent paintings in 
 a rich mansion receive more consideration than 
 the placing of our French and American posters. 
 Symmetry is the rule of the army! If I put a pic- 
 ture on one side of the tent, it was absolutely neces- 
 sary to put one of the same size exactly opposite. 
 At the end of the long tent are the French and 
 American flags crossed, and under them, cut with 
 painstaking care from a 19 17 Liberty Loan pos- 
 ter, hangs the Liberty Bell with the words "Ring 
 it Again" above. A wreath of smilax gathered 
 from the woods encircles each electric light. Really 
 it is very pretty and gay. But there is a big draw- 
 back; the dampness. The floor is covered with 
 damp sawdust, and one little stove burning green 
 wood is not enough to dry it. The captain of the 
 Supply Co. has promised another stove, but until 
 it comes and has been kept burning several days we 
 can't think of moving in. I have my heart set on 
 making it the brightest and warmest spot in town. 
 Wine and cognac shops are my strong competitors. 
 I must get busy. 
 
 How would you like to send all your copies of 
 "Life" and any other magazines to me instead of 
 to the great unknown? They would be greatly ap- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 37 
 
 predated in Pouillenay. And here's a novel sug- 
 gestion from a "highbrow Shortall." Papa, (I 
 exempt Mamma), won't you invite H. and M. to 
 every musical comedy that comes along, and when- 
 ever you hear a song that is new and good and 
 snappy, send me the music "toot sweet" as the boys 
 say. 
 
 Feb. 14th. 
 
 On the other side of this card I have marked my 
 present home on "Main Street." If you follow 
 this road over the hills you come to the heights 
 where Vercingetorix of the Gauls made his last 
 stand against Julius Caesar. This is historical 
 country. Where javelins and arrows once flew 
 thick, hordes of Americans are now living, the lat- 
 est liberators of these old vineyards. And almost 
 on the site of a pagan temple stands the Y. M. C. 
 A. tent where a twentieth century priestess from 
 Chicago hands out cigarettes and plays ragtime. 
 We are in our tent and drawing crowds. 
 
 One of these streets is called "La rue des Qua- 
 tres Fonts." It is as pretty as its name, but the 
 American boys don't see any beauty in any of it, 
 and I can't blame them. All they care about is 
 "God's own country." I do hope for their sakes 
 that the Division will be ordered to move soon. 
 I am happy and well, and spring is in the air. 
 
38 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 Feb. 1 8th. 
 
 Here is another view of our tiny town. Just at 
 present everything is buried under most fearful 
 and wonderful mud. I never stir without my arc- 
 tics. I am glad I brought two pairs. 
 
 Yesterday being Sunday, I made about forty 
 gallons of hot chocolate which I served in the tent 
 all the afternoon. It was a rainy day and you 
 should have seen the men pile in and gather round 
 the huge army caldron with their cups. The tent 
 was warm and cheerful and it was all very jolly. 
 
 The day before I had a new experience. I rode 
 over to Semur in a side-car or "wife-killer" as they 
 call them; you know, those little basket affairs at- 
 tached to a motor-cycle. The Catholic chaplain 
 who is also a young lieutenant, drove it, and we 
 went about forty miles an hour over hill and dale. 
 He was officiating at a funeral in Semur, while I 
 bought cups, dishpans, and various other utensils 
 for our chocolate outfit. I packed them all into 
 the side-car and you should have heard our load 
 jingle and clatter as we whizzed back over the 
 rough road! 
 
 Feb. 23rd. 
 Yesterday (Saturday afternoon) I walked with 
 three officers to the town of Alise, about five miles 
 from Pouillenay. It is a most picturesque little vil- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 39 
 
 lage on the hillside. Above it on the top of the hill 
 is an enormous statue of Vercingetorix. It is here 
 that he made his last stand against Cassar. On the 
 top of the hill are the ruins of a Roman village; a 
 small coliseum, a temple with several beautiful col- 
 ums still standing, baths, aqueducts, and all the 
 paraphernalia of first class ruins. The three lieu- 
 tenants I went with are very jolly, nice men, and 
 we poked and pried into everything in most irrev- 
 erent and frivolous spirit. One of them, Lieut. 
 McK., a very young Princeton fellow, had recent- 
 ly studied up the ruins and kept giving information 
 about them in highbrow manner. Every statement 
 he made was immediately challenged by the others, 
 and great betting contests arose as to the depth 
 of wells, Roman methods of heating water, etc., all 
 with the continuous stream of jokes that congenial 
 Americans keep up when they are off for a good 
 time. These were the officers of F Co., 31 ith In- 
 fantry, who have been very cordial to me. 
 
 r 
 March ist, 19 19. 
 
 Again a full, full week has slipped past, and I 
 
 haven't even begun to tell you of the week before 
 
 that. Such a life as I have gotten myself into! 
 
 If I had any time to ponder at all I might get 
 
 dizzy, but luckily there is nothing for me to do 
 
 except use my wits and go on. Since I last wrote 
 
40 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 you I have been from ballet dancer on the mess 
 hall stage to mother-confessor and staid counsel- 
 lor of homesick boys. I have been cook and dish- 
 washer, both on a wholesale scale, and I have 
 been hostess at an officers' ball. 
 
 I must tell you about the ballet dancing because 
 it was such fun. I didn't want Valentine's day 
 to go by without some little celebration, so I got 
 the sergeants of the various companies together 
 to see if we couldn't get up an impromptu stunt 
 show. Everybody joined in enthusiastically, and 
 in the afternoon we had an uproarious rehearsal 
 in the Supply Co. Mess Hall which is also the 
 Pouillenay theatre. A few violins and two drums 
 were scraped together, and in half an hour we 
 had a little orchestra playing such contagious rag- 
 time that every one was jigging and beating time 
 and cutting all sorts of capers. These boys went 
 simply wild over the first music they had heard in 
 months. The orchestra with the aid of a tooth- 
 less old piano did wonders. There is lots of tal- 
 ent buried in khaki ! The snare drum rolled 
 finely, and another snare drum with the mem- 
 brane loosened played the part of a rather pudgy, 
 indecisive bass drum. It didn't matter I One boy 
 made an ingenious whistle out of his mess kit, and 
 trilled and whistled, generally playing the part of 
 piccolo, giving life to the orchestra. The rehear- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 41 
 
 sal, if it didn't put the finishing touches on our 
 performance, at least was jolly good fun and filled 
 us with invincible self-confidence for the evening. 
 I had arranged a Valentine tableau for the end, 
 and Mme. Gloriod at home had pinned hundreds 
 of paper flowers on my gray steamer rug in the 
 form of a huge heart. I had even written a senti- 
 mental poem which I was to read aloud, and on 
 the whole it was to be a very pretty valentine, 
 when suddenly, about six o'clock came the news 
 that a Y. M. C. A. moving picture show had come 
 to town and would have the mess hall that even- 
 ing. Our show was off. I was disappointed, es- 
 pecially since the movie machine broke down in 
 the middle of the performance and couldn't be 
 fixed. However, we decided to give our show 
 on the following Monday. And we did. And a 
 ripping good show it was ! It went off with snap 
 and the audience was gratlfyingly appreciative. 
 Imagine the long, narrow mess hall with its dirt 
 floor, board tables and benches, crowded and 
 packed with soldiers. The light was dim and the 
 air thick with tobacco smoke. At one end is the 
 rough board stage with army blankets pinned up 
 for curtains. Below the stage was the orchestra, 
 all alert for its first performance, and back of the 
 curtains were we, the actors, packed in pretty 
 tight, amid all the excitement and bustle and fun 
 
42 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 of the moment before the curtain rises. There 
 was I, alone, among all those great rough men I 
 Yet I don't know why I should call them rough. 
 More sweet consideration was never shown any 
 one than was shown me that evening. My over- 
 shoes were taken off; a chair was placed for me 
 in the "wings"; as soon as I finished my part my 
 coat was put on and buttoned up for me; and in a 
 thousand httle ways these boys took care of me. 
 I did two dances for them. One was a scarf 
 dance that I made up to the "Missouri Waltz," 
 and then the 'good old cachuca, arranged for an- 
 other waltz. I had to adapt my dances to the 
 available music. Of course I won an easy tri- 
 umph, having no competitors, and being the first 
 girl they had seen on the stage for many a day. 
 There's no danger of my getting vain; don't 
 worry. The other stunts ranged from the comic 
 to the serious. All were loudly applauded. Some 
 were awfully good. One sensitive-faced boy 
 played the violin. He had been gassed on the 
 front and had completely lost his voice. It seem- 
 ed as though he put everything he could not say 
 into that three-dollar violin, such a beautiful, liv- 
 ing tone he got. The miserable instrument, the 
 acoustics of the rude mess hall and the janghng 
 piano accompaniment could not detract from the 
 real music he gave us, and the crowd, recognizing 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 43 
 
 it to be real, whistled and clapped and demanded 
 more. Two nights after, we repeated our show, 
 and this time the Major honored us with his 
 presence and said many nice things to us after- 
 ward. 
 
 Since this show, the battalion orchestra has be- 
 come an institution. I have made several trips to 
 Semur in search of instruments. The last time I 
 came back in the Major's side-car in the pouring 
 rain with two cornets, a saxophone and a flute 
 packed in around me under the blankets. These 
 were given me by the Entertainment Department 
 at General Headquarters, after nearly an hour's 
 arguing to convince them that they were needed. 
 It is a great addition. Now the orchestra plays al- 
 ways at the movies when they come to town, about 
 twice a week, and last Friday they played at our 
 dance. I will tell you about that. 
 
 I thought it was about time to do something for 
 the officers, as they need fun just as much as the 
 enlisted men, so I proposed a dance. "Where will 
 you get the girls?" they said. "The Red Cross 
 nurses in Semur," said I. "There is no hall here 
 large enough for a dance," said they. "Yes there 
 is!" said I. Mme. Gloriod had told me of a 
 wooden floor made to fit over the tank in the vil- 
 lage "lavoir," which the mayor of Pouillenay had 
 had made in the happy days before the war. The 
 
44 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 lavoir is a good-sized stone structure with a large 
 tank of soapy water in the middle, round which 
 the women scrub and pound their clothes, gossip- 
 ing, laughing and scolding all the day long in their 
 raucous French. It is not easy to imagine an up-to- 
 date American dance in this mediaeval, sloppy 
 spot. The Major and a few other optimists backed 
 me up and told me to go ahead. After more or 
 less trouble I got the Red Cross nurses and four 
 or five "Y" girls from various towns committed to 
 last Thursday evening. One lieutenant engaged 
 the Semur orchestra, which is several months older 
 and more professional than ours. Then I made a 
 memorable call on the Mayor of Pouillenay, M. 
 Champenois, a delightful, impressive old French- 
 man. I found him in the parlor of his little stone 
 house seated at a huge desk; his sweet little wife, 
 with black lace in her hair, tending the fire. They 
 made me come in and sit down, and an hour went 
 by in the discussion of art, literature, and the af- 
 fairs of the world, before they would let me ap- 
 proach the business of the day. When finally I 
 did make my errand known, he granted me the 
 lavoir free of charge, undertaking to have the 
 floor put down himself. We parted the best of 
 friends. 
 
 Then followed two days of real work; scrub- 
 bing, heating, and decorating and lighting the la- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 45 
 
 voir. To make a long story short, it was charm- 
 ing when we got through. Evergreens, flags, can- 
 dles and four electric lights softened and illumi- 
 nated the dank old place, while two stoves made it 
 reasonably dry and warm. The floor was sprin- 
 kled with cornmeal. And the dance was a real suc- 
 cess- lots of fun, and also with somethmg distin- 
 guished and graceful about it. It was what you 
 might call "a real lace party," though the only lace 
 on the scene were the festoons of ancient cobwebs 
 that swayed from the big oaken rafters high above 
 the reach of the longest broom. As the atmosphere 
 of a battalion radiates from its commanding offi- 
 cer, I give Major S. the credit for that unmistak- 
 able "touch" that marked our dance. 
 
 No sooner off with one dance than I began plot- 
 ting another. It seemed too bad that the enlisted 
 men shouldn't have a chance, and the lavoir all 
 decorated and ready. Major S. gave me permis- 
 sion, and M. Champenois generously allowed mc 
 to keep the lavoir another evening. Where to get 
 the girls? The Red Cross nurses are allowed to 
 dance only with officers. I went to Mme. Gloriod, 
 who helps me out on every proposition. She made 
 me a list of the names of about thirty French girls, 
 the "four hundred" of Pouillenay, so to speak, and 
 in the afternoon, with two dear little girls to guide 
 me, I interviewed the stern mammas of the said 
 
46 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 damsels, assuring them it was "comme il faut," 
 urging them to come. About ten accepted, many 
 of the others being in mourning or else sick. Or- 
 ders were sent to three companies of the battalion, 
 inviting them, making it clear that each was to 
 have one hour of dancing, then was to leave, giving 
 the next a chance. That was the only way we 
 could manage. Whew 1 didn't they come I At sev- 
 en the hall was packed with Supply Co. men, and a 
 good many others that had no business there, de- 
 spite the vigilant guard at the door. The French 
 girls came. Our valiant orchestra struck up. We 
 whirled; we bumped into each other; we Virginia- 
 reeled ; we circled ; and — the hour was up. All too 
 quick! The men, intoxicated by this taste of fun, 
 refused to leave. The guards could not clear the 
 room. Low, discontented mutterings were heard. 
 "The officers danced all night, why can't we?" 
 "We'll break your whole show up if you make us 
 go." "We'll take all the girls off with us." "We'll 
 stay as long as we like." I was angry. It was a 
 moment that required all my tact. I didn't want 
 the evening to break up in a riot. I didn't want to 
 call an officer if I could help it. But they would 
 not go. All the French girls got scared and began 
 coming up to me to say they must go home. I in- 
 duced them to stay, somehow. I was on the point 
 of calling off the whole dance there and then, when 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 47 
 
 the thought of my dear F Company waiting quietly 
 outside to get in, made me suddenly resolve to put 
 the thing through. I talked to the boys, putting it 
 up to their sense of fair play, and thank goodness, 
 most of them filed out. F Company came in and 
 the dance went on with increased gusto. The hour 
 was up — I called it out; — quietly, like one man F 
 Co. marched out on the minute and E Co. came in. 
 I can tell you my heart warmed toward F Co. that 
 stood by me from the beginning! E. Co. was fine 
 too, and when the dance was over they escorted 
 me home and gave me a cheer of thanks. 
 
 And the next morning, by eleven o'clock, the 
 French women in their sabots and dirty petticoats 
 were kneeling round the soapy water in the lavoir, 
 doubtless chattering about the last two nights' 
 events. 
 
 March i8th. 
 Innumerable interruptions ! It doesn't seem 
 possible that ten days have slipped by since this 
 letter was begun, and I apologize for letting 
 them. Meanwhile I have been doing everything 
 under the sun. One of my latest jobs is that of 
 bandmaster. I am coaching and coaxing and im- 
 ploring three coronets, two clarinets, one saxa- 
 phone and a trombone, not to mention the old 
 piano, to become friends instead of deadliest ene- 
 
48 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 mies. Nothing but implicit faith in the ultimate 
 triumph of harmony over discord has enabled me 
 to survive the shrieks and grunts and clashings 
 of our rehearsals. I have had to orchestrate and 
 write out all the music myself, and incidentally I 
 am acquiring some interesting and practical 
 knowledge of "the brasses." It is great fun. As 
 soon as they are good enough I will annex them 
 to our string orchestra. Indeed I have already 
 promoted one clarinet player, a cunning little Ital- 
 ian, who now ripples away among the violins. 
 
 Our Sunday afternoon chocolate parties are 
 very gay now. We bring over the rattle-top 
 piano from the mess hall to the tent and the or- 
 chestra plays all afternoon. The tent is packed 
 with soldiers, most of whom I know pretty well 
 by this time. Near the entrance am I in my blue 
 Y. M. C. A. apron, and my assistants, making 
 kettleful after kettleful of delicious chocolate. I 
 am very careful to have it delicious. The boys line 
 up and we hand them out cupfuls, and cakes, which 
 they take back to the tables and drink at their 
 leisure while listening to the music or playing 
 checkers. All the little French boys in town con- 
 gregate round the chocolate caldron and all are 
 eager to help in any way, well knowing what their 
 reward will be. I keep them busy too, and before 
 the afternoon is over each one has a "chocolatey" 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 49 
 
 little mouth and a broad smile and nothing but 
 "kind feelings" for the Americans. I am good 
 friends with these little fellows in their pinafores 
 and wooden shoes. Yesterday I played tag with 
 them, and what a clatter they made in their un- 
 gainly sabots, which nevertheless did not prevent 
 their running outrageously fast when I was "it." 
 
 Spring is coming. Every morning I listen to 
 the unfamiliar songs of strange birds. Yet they 
 speak the sweet message that needs no interpret- 
 ing. Occasionally we have a fair day between 
 the rainy ones, and how fair it is ! On one of these 
 days I went for a wonderful horseback ride with 
 a fine young artillery lieutenant about Hy's age. 
 We cantered gloriously over open fields. We 
 climbed up a high hill. There we were among 
 rocks and ferns and pines, birds warbling about 
 us, skylarks singing out of sight, the warm sun on 
 us, and behind and beyond the graceful, harmon- 
 ious view of the long valley with the canal, fring- 
 ed with poplars, glinting through it, and the culti- 
 vated, nicely outlined fields, each a different shade 
 of green, stretching far up the opposite hillside. 
 
 Well, I mustn't spend any more time on the 
 scenery, for I will either bore you or make Mamma 
 envious. Here comes another interruption I I 
 am really feeling very well. I am very happy. 
 Every one is more than kind to me. I am con- 
 vinced I did the right thing to come. 
 
so A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 Pouillenay, April ist. 
 
 It is a beautiful bright morning. All is serene 
 in the Y. M. C. A. tent, a few boys writing home 
 and a little group huddled round the stove wait- 
 ing to go through the "Delouser," a monstrous 
 machine which steamed into town this morning. 
 This is in preparation for GOING HOME, for 
 the 78th has received its orders and will probably 
 leave Pouillenay about April i6th. There is an 
 atmosphere of excitement throughout the town. 
 The longed-for news has come and nothing can 
 surpass the supreme happiness of these homesick 
 boys, who have endured so much heroically, and 
 yet who are so like children. Orders have come 
 that the Y. M. C. A. workers are to move with 
 the Division, so I am to have my first experience 
 of army travel. I am certainly glad that I am to 
 be allowed to go along. I would be broken-heart- 
 ed if I had to leave my battalion while they were 
 still in France. 
 
 Many, many things have been happening since 
 I last wrote. Last week the Lightning Division 
 underwent inspection by General Pershing. The 
 review was held in Les Laumes, and I went over 
 to see it. I had not realized before what an im- 
 mense body of men an Army Division is. On the 
 vast muddy field stood, motionless, ranks and 
 ranks of khaki-clad soldiers, their protective col- 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 51 
 
 oring blending with the green-brown of the field. 
 Here and there the Stars and Stripes and the vivid 
 blue and red of the Infantry and Artillery flags 
 made bright spots on the monotonous brown 
 scene. 
 
 General Pershing arrived an hour late, an Im- 
 pressive military figure on his beautiful horse. 
 The inspection lasted almost two hours. Then he 
 presented the D. S. M. to about fifty men, pinning 
 the medal on each, and shaking each by the hand. 
 The band played the Star Spangled Banner, and 
 the whole vast body stood rigidly at Attention. 
 The sun came out, making the scene brilliant and 
 lighting up a lovely white village on the top of the 
 hill in the background. It was very beautiful. 
 
 The General next went up into the grand stand 
 and the review began, which means that the whole 
 Division marched past. The Infantry came first 
 in their orderly files, dipping their colors as they 
 went by. Then came the Artillery in its seeming 
 magnificent disorder. The great horses plunging, 
 caissons rattling, drivers holding the reins taut, 
 scarlet flags fluttering, it galloped over the muddy, 
 bumpy field with a wonderful rush. This was fol- 
 lowed by the Motorized Artillery which came out 
 of the woods like a swarm of huge creeping bee- 
 tles. Weird monsters they were, and their deafen- 
 ing rattle reached us at a distance like some great 
 
52 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 magnified buzz. General Pershing gave a speech 
 next, but I couldn't stand up a minute longer so I 
 left, one of the officers who had also had enough 
 taking me back in his car. So when our boys came 
 marching back at 8.30 that evening, after eleven 
 and a half hours on their feet, I was able to greet 
 them with hot chocolate and cakes in the tent, to 
 their great satisfaction. 
 
 Let's see ; what else have I been doing? I have 
 been cooking simple meals regularly for the sick 
 boys in the infirmary, and feeding one of them who 
 is too weak to sit up. Then my knowledge of 
 dressmaking has been taxed to the limit, for I was 
 called upon to make a stylish gown for the lady in 
 the battalion show; the lady being a tall and ex- 
 tremely lanky man. We have had lots of fun out 
 of it. We are told that our show is the best in the 
 Division, and it is now touring the whole area, 
 playing every evening. Often I go with them, just 
 for fun, and to dress the lady. We have good 
 times, singing as we tour the country in the two big 
 ambulances that the army provides for our trans- 
 portation. The boys treat me like their sister. 
 
 Of course I am most needed in Pouillenay In 
 the evenings, and that is where I usually am, doing 
 my utmost to bring amusement and gaiety into the 
 tent. I fly from one thing to another. I get the 
 chocolate made, forty gallons or so, (that's the 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 53 
 
 easiest thing I do, Mamma 1) then I give two men 
 the job of serving it while I fly for my guitar, tune 
 it up, spend a lot of energy coaxing some bashful 
 soul to play, perhaps getting some one to play the 
 mandolin too, then organizing a Virginia reel or 
 a square dance. It invariably takes coaxing, ca- 
 joling, insisting, to get them started, and then they 
 get going, and we dance and swing our partners 
 and grand right and left on the dirt floor, a helpful 
 crowd of bystanders clapping their hands, whist- 
 ling and singing in syncopated rhythm. Then us- 
 ually the music gives out, and I take the guitar and 
 play anything and everything I know. Jigs, reels, 
 Italian and Russian tunes, all call forth some re- 
 sponse from this cosmopolitan army of ours, and 
 we have songs and dances of all nationalities. 
 What scenes that guitar of mine has taken part in 
 since you gave it to me fourteen years ago ! Need- 
 less to say, I am glad I brought it with me, though 
 it will always be the worse for wear as a result. 
 
 Last night the Supply Co. gave a party in honor 
 of its commander, formerly Captain W. who has 
 just been made a major. He is a great old char- 
 acter, much beloved by his men. The banquet was 
 a surprise to him. The mess hall was crowded 
 with men, while on the stage the oflicers' table was 
 set. They had invited me and I went in dancing 
 costume prepared to perform after dinner. The 
 
54 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 regimental band was there and played continu- 
 ously. I wish you could have seen the bass drum! 
 It had the kaiser's portrait painted on it, so that 
 every time the drummer beat it he hit the kaiser 
 on the head. No wonder he played with spirit! It 
 is a first-class brass band and I found it rather 
 thrilling to dance to it. 
 
 I can tell you the main events that happen, but 
 the real things, the chance meetings in sympathy, 
 the gripping handclasp, the halting story of disap- 
 pointment, the seeking for a little mothering, and 
 yes, for love too — these things I cannot write. I 
 can only give and withhold sympathy as it seems 
 right, and pray and strive to be very true and very 
 clear and very strong. 
 
 Oh, but it's easy to make chocolate ! 
 
 Pouillenay, France, 
 Monday, April 14th, 19 19. 
 Just a line this morning before I get up, that be- 
 ing the only way I can get a word in edgewise. 
 Once up and dressed, my time is no longer my 
 own; but safe in bed, I am mistress of myself, and 
 though I may be interrupted every ten minutes, the 
 unarguable helplessness of my position is my great 
 protection, and nothing but my conscience can 
 move me. The first hour or so of day is the only 
 time I reserve for myself. It Is only thus that T 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 55 
 
 ever see a newspaper, that my hair gets sham- 
 pooed, clothes mended, or that you occasionally 
 get a letter. This is the time when the men are 
 out drilling or working on the roads, and the tent 
 is empty, so I take advantage of it. 
 
 Interruption. By conscience ! There is nothing 
 to do about it. I must get up. 
 
 April 17th. 
 You have asked about the Americans' attitude 
 toward the French. In general it is not flatter- 
 ing. Though I don't sympathize at all with the 
 boys in this feeling toward the French, whom I 
 love, yet I see perfectly how it has come about. 
 It springs from the limitations of both nations. 
 Our boys are terribly homesick and restless. Sep- 
 arated by time and distance from their country, 
 they have come to glorify it even more than it 
 deserves. Coming for the most part from thriv- 
 ing towns and farms, accustomed to work, but 
 with the most modern appliances, they are dis- 
 gusted by the lack of sanitation and the primitive 
 methods of the peasants in these tiny old villages. 
 It is the contempt of young, pressing, large-scale 
 methods of getting results, for ancient, tranquil 
 ways. It is our fierce elimination of waste versus 
 their huge quantity of tiny savings. Nor is our 
 efficiency more materialistic than this French 
 
56 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 thrift, though each appears sordid to the other. 
 We are different, that is all. We are both greedy. 
 
 And then our soldiers meet mostly the worst 
 sort of French girl, which gives them a bad im- 
 pression of the country. Also, the French are 
 making money off of us for all they are worth. 
 Not the authorities, perhaps, but the people, in 
 all their transactions. It is, in truth, rather dis- 
 gusting and ungrateful of them, but perfectly in- 
 evitable after the glowing descriptions of the 
 wealth of America which they continually hear, 
 and since our boys will pay almost anything for 
 what they want, and since they are foolish enough 
 to buy tawdry and worthless souvenirs by the 
 thousands at ridiculously high prices. 
 
 And then again, we never see an example of 
 fine, strong, and young French manhood. We see 
 the poor old tottering men and the degenerate. 
 Once in a while a French soldier comes through 
 town, and he is usually a poor specimen. We for- 
 get that our towns would be equally desolate if 
 we had been at war four years. 
 
 It is difficult for this army of simple, honest, 
 normal boys to imagine what they have not seen. 
 Also the weather gets on everybody's nerves. You 
 are inclined to despise anybody so poor-spirited 
 as to settle down and live in such a climate. This 
 continuous, everlasting, never-ending cold rain 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 57 
 
 taxes your temper to the limit. And yet, many 
 very sweet friendships have sprung up between 
 our soldiers and the old women in whose houses 
 they are billeted, their "French mothers" as they 
 call them. And I feel perfectly sure that when 
 they all get home and the dream of America 
 has come true — or perhaps hasn't come true — 
 they will look back on France with real affection 
 and with a little sense of ownership; and they 
 will think of even their discomforts with pleasure. 
 This has been their big adventure; but since they 
 are not bent just now upon reading the book of 
 their own lives, they don't know it. 
 
 Paris, May nth, 1919. 
 
 Another shift of scene. Oh, what a change it 
 isl Back to Paris! back to the world, some might 
 say, but — deserted by my family who are now 
 joyously on the water going home. Gone are 
 those happy, remarkable days in darling Pouil- 
 lenay, gone my beloved Battalion of khaki-clad 
 boys, and left behind is the peaceful, beautiful 
 countryside of the Cote d'Or with its white cattle 
 on the green hills, its ducks and its chickens, its 
 skylarks, and its dear population in sabots. 
 
 It has been impossible to send you anything 
 but postal cards the last few weeks because I have 
 been so busy. Also the 78th's post office was dis- 
 
58 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 organized owing to preparations for moving, so 
 I must go back a long way if I am to give you any 
 idea of what has been happening. Let's see. 
 
 The day before Easter the sun came out. Ser- 
 geant R. and I went out to gather flowers for 
 Easter decorations for the tent. The fields were 
 covered, fairly sparkling, with little yellow prim- 
 roses too pretty for words. And in the wet places 
 were masses of delicate lavender flowers. Brooks 
 gurgling, sprays of wild fruit blossoms in the 
 hedges, everything juicy and green and radiant. 
 After weeks of rain the sun had actually broken 
 forth to glorify it all. We filled baskets with a 
 feathery mixture of gold and lavender, this sweet- 
 natured, devoted boy and myself, and we had a 
 good time. 
 
 The next morning, Easter Day, I was up very 
 early, and by breakfast time the tent was a per- 
 fect bower of flowers. It was really lovely. And 
 the surprise and pleasure of the boys! "Seems 
 as though we was back home!" "I forgot all 
 about its being Easter!" "Say, I never thought 
 we could have Easter in France !" And one 
 boy who kept hanging round all day taking it all 
 in, said, "What'd you go to all that trouble for? 
 It's no use doing that over here." Yet he was 
 back every morning to watch me arrange the flow- 
 ers, for I kept them always in the tent after that, 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 59 
 
 and the little French children would bring me 
 fresh ones. 
 
 On Easter morning an open air memorial ser- 
 vice had been planned in honor of those in the 
 Battalion who had been killed. The day was 
 beautiful. The Battalion assembled in a beauti- 
 ful little field on the outskirts of the town, the 
 four companies drawn up facing each other. The 
 choir, which I had drilled, composed of about 
 twenty men, stood together. A platform had 
 been built in the centre, from which Major S., 
 always fine, gave a splendid short address. The 
 chaplain then delivered a sermon, less impressive. 
 The choir sang "Rock of Ages," which was quite 
 solemnly beautiful. Next the roll was called, 
 which was astonishingly long. It was a strain on 
 those standing ranks of boys to hear the names of 
 their dead comrades, and the tears were coursing 
 down many cheeks. The choir sang "My Faith 
 Looks Up To Thee." Taps were sounded, fol- 
 lowed by a roll of drums. There was a moment 
 of tense silence. Then to the relief of all, the 
 little Battalion Band struck up a quickstep and the 
 Companies marched off cheerily. It was truly a 
 beautiful service, and the warm sun and birds 
 warbling in the trees gave it an added sweetness. 
 It meant a great deal to the men. 
 
 After the service I walked back to the tent with 
 
6o A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 the Colonel and the Major, who came in and ad- 
 mired my decorations as much as I could wish. In 
 the afternoon was a thrilling baseball game be- 
 tween our Battalion and the ist Battalion of the 
 312th Infantry. (Baseball has been our great 
 amusement of late. ) I slipped away before it 
 was over to get my kettle boiling, so that after- 
 ward I had hot chocolate and cakes for all the boys 
 that wanted it; it never has to go begging. In the 
 evening we gathered round the poor rheumatic 
 piano and sang and sang till old Mathieu, the elec- 
 trician, turned the lights off. Now doesn't that 
 sound like a happy Easter? 
 
 Meanwhile preparations for moving were go- 
 ing on. All the stoves were taken from the billets 
 and of course the weather turned cold and rainy 
 again. We froze, and we waded in mud, but we 
 didn't care; we were "going home." 
 
 The next big stunt I pulled off was a candy pull. 
 It took me a day's journey in the side-car to get the 
 ingredients, two whole crates of Karo corn syrup 
 and ten pounds of margarine. Company F allowed 
 me to use their kitchen which was next to the tent, 
 and I found a professional candy-maker who sup- 
 erintended the cooking. What a time we had! 
 Rain pouring outside, our merry little orchestra 
 playing for all it was worth in the tent, tent packed 
 with soldiers, I in my blue apron dashing back and 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 6i 
 
 forth from mess hall to tent with fresh batches of 
 candy ready to be pulled, which was seized by eag- 
 er and clean hands, pulled and twisted until it was 
 white, and consumed in no time. I had had plenty 
 of water heated and there was a tremendous scrub- 
 bing of big calloused hands when some fellow 
 "guessed he'd have a try at it." We made 
 more delicious candy than the battalion could eat, 
 and sent it round to the officers. Altogether the 
 evening was voted a hilarious success. 
 
 And the next day the Division began to entrain 
 for Bordeaux. Not my Battalion, but other Infan- 
 try Regiments, the Machine Gunners and the Ar- 
 tillery. I left Pouillenay for three days and went 
 to Epoisse, the entraining point, to help serve co- 
 coa and cakes to the departing soldiers. The 
 weather was abominable, a driving wet snow all 
 the time and we had to stand in it for hours. "We" 
 were four girls. It was a most exhausting busi- 
 ness. I got back to Pouillenay rather the worse 
 for wear, but I couldn't stop on my last day with 
 my boys, and I was busy with a thousand things I 
 made fudge for my platoon and took it to their bil- 
 let in the evening. The good old tent had been 
 taken down in my absence and there was nothing 
 left of the "Y". There in the dark billet of the 
 ist Platoon of F Co. I had my last good time with 
 my boys. It was raining as usual. They received 
 
62 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 me with a cheer, and when they saw the fudge, the 
 cheer grew louder. We got up a Virginia reel and 
 how those boys swung me round ! And when we 
 were too hot to dance more, we sang, until we were 
 hoarse. And then I had to go, for Lieut. J. 
 of F Co. was giving a little party for the Major 
 and I had promised to be there with my guitar. 
 
 That last night was an uproarious one in Pouil- 
 lenay. The estaminets did their worst — it was 
 their last chance at American francs — and way in- 
 to the morning the streets resounded with drunken 
 yells. I fear the majority were celebrating. I 
 don't blame them. If the Y. M. C. A. had let us 
 keep our tent we might have planned a counter- 
 drive, but as it was, we could do nothing. That 
 night, as I lay listening to the noise, I became 
 aware of a new sound. I couldn't believe my ears 
 — but yes, I had heard it once before in England — 
 a nightingale ! That piercing, passionate, ecstatic 
 song! It rang out between the shouts of the 
 revelers in the street below. How much more it 
 seemed to say than those drunken voices of menl 
 and yet all that it says is through the soul of man. 
 
 The day of departure dawned, warm and 
 cloudy. I was to "hike" with my platoon over to 
 Les Laumes, the entraining point, a distance of 
 five kilometres. In my heart I knew that this was 
 my last day with the battalion, though most of the 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 63 
 
 boys expected me to go down to Bordeaux after 
 them. But Y. M. C. A. headquarters had ordered 
 me to stay three days at Les Laumes, serving co- 
 coa. So we marched over. In an hour we were 
 at the ugly little railroad town where the Engi- 
 neers have been quartered all winter. I left the 
 battalion to march off to their lunch, while I went 
 down to the Y. M. C. A. to help the cocoa contin- 
 gent. There I found the other girls working. Pret- 
 ty soon the boys came in to get their last sweet, hot, 
 "hand out" from the "Y," then I went with them 
 to the station. There at the railroad gate I said 
 goodbye. How I shook hands! Sometimes my 
 voice would break as I talked, which made me 
 furious with myself. They had all gone through 
 the gate and a group of officers stood around me 
 to say goodbye. "Well, Sis, how are you standing 
 it?" said one. "She hasn't cried yet," said anoth- 
 er. "Don't set me off," I begged. So Lieut. M. 
 mercifully stuffed a cake into my mouth, which 
 made us all laugh. These kind boys! Well, they 
 had all passed through the train gate. I didn't 
 follow them because I couldn't seem to get com- 
 mand of myself and I wouldn't send them off with 
 anything but a smile. I went back to the "Y" hut. 
 There I worked like fury, and talked and laughed 
 with the men, and in half an hour I was all right 
 again. The long train of freight cars loaded with 
 
64 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 my family was still standing at the station. I went 
 out on the platform. A cheer came from every 
 earful. I started at the engine and went down the 
 line, stopping at every car. I threw myself into a 
 rollicking mood and got them all to laughing. "But 
 we'll see you in Bordeaux won't we, Miss Shor- 
 tall?" came from all sides, and I would have to ex- 
 plain. When I got to the first platoon of F Co. 
 Sergeant R. picked me up and put me in the car, 
 and many were the half humorous, half serious 
 threats of keeping me, and making me go with 
 them. I certainly was tempted to do it. Major S. 
 came along and found me there. How I hated to 
 say goodbye to him, this kind friend whose atti- 
 tude of respect, of comradeship, has typified that 
 of the whole battalion toward me ! He has been 
 my great encourager through it all. The splendid 
 morale of his men, as you must realize, has been 
 largely due to his fine spirit which permeated the 
 battalion. 
 
 And so — they were gone. Some strange offi- 
 cer in a car kindly took me back to Pouillenay. 
 That deserted town ! For me, its soul had de- 
 parted. There was the famihar scene, inanimate. 
 No figures in khaki anywhere, no one whistling 
 to me or waving, nothing left of them but their 
 fresh tracks in the mud everywhere, and wave on 
 wave of loneliness surged through me, that was 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 65 
 
 almost terrifying in its intensity. Thank heaven 
 the sun had come out! I walked up my street, 
 talking to the disconsolate French women who 
 stood in the doorways looking out as though all 
 the joy in life had departed. Truly, the best com- 
 ment on the behaviour of our boys is the genuine 
 sorrow of the French at seeing them go. I got 
 up to my billet where dear M. and Mme. Gloriod 
 met me, their faces covered with tears. It was 
 good to see them again, and they were overjoyed 
 at seeing me. Mme. Gloriod began getting me 
 something to eat, while I, too exhausted to think 
 or feel, went to bed. 
 
 And now, to pass briefly over the next four 
 days in Pouillenay, I am back in Paris. Where 
 they will send me I haven't the least idea. I vol- 
 unteered to go home, because the *'Y" is swamped 
 with workers now, and had the satisfaction of 
 being told that I was not the kind they wanted 
 to send home. This means a good deal to mc 
 because I am quite aware that, not being as strong 
 as the majority, I have given fewer hours of ser- 
 vice than most of them, and now to have from 
 all sides tokens of appreciation is overwhelmingly 
 gratifying. 
 
 I have a "Memory Book" of the 2nd Bn., 
 311th Inf. which you will be interested in seeing 
 when I get home. The Major wrote a little verse 
 
66 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 on the first page, stamping it with the official seal. 
 It goes: 
 
 She put the "Pull" in Pouillenay, 
 Likewise the push there, too. 
 Her middle name's Efficiency, 
 And lassie — here's to you I 
 
 By the way, if any members of the Battalion 
 come to see you, I know you will give them a real 
 welcome. Also, if by chance the 78th Divisional 
 Show should play in Chicago, it really would be 
 jolly to do something for the Cast and Manage- 
 ment. It is to be composed largely of boys from 
 our Battalion. 
 
 Goodbye. There is lots more to say, but I 
 really can't. 
 
 American Y. W. C. A. Hostess House, 
 
 Chateau "La Gloriette," 
 
 Chaumont, May 24th. 
 
 Paris is over with. There was much waiting 
 
 and rushing and guessing and meeting of friends. 
 
 I have seen so many, old and new-made, ladies and 
 
 gentlemen. I have run around in civilian clothes 
 
 — my uniform went to the cleaner's — and have 
 
 gone to the theatre and dined in restaurants and 
 
 listened to orchestras, dodged taxis and ridden in 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 67 
 
 them, gone to bed late, spent some money, — in 
 short, have done all the things I ordinarily avoid 
 doing. 
 
 In Paris you see more Americans then French, 
 and more American women than men, all in as- 
 sorted uniforms. They certainly have brought a 
 mob of women over here I and now they are trying 
 to ship them home as fast as possible. The Y. M. 
 C. A. is sending workers, men and women, home at 
 tki rate of several hundred a week. 
 
 They have given me a reassignment. Yester- 
 day I came to Chaumont where G. H. Q. is sta- 
 tioned, and I shall be sent out from here — some- 
 where, to do — something. At present I don't 
 know anything about it. Meanwhile I am most 
 comfortably lodged in the Y. W. C. A. Hostess 
 House, a large and beautiful chateau with lovely 
 grounds. I am now sitting on an old stone wall on 
 the hillside which I came upon after following a 
 shady path. Beside me are bushes drooping with 
 white and purple lilacs, all about me birds are 
 warbling, and beyond and below Is a panorama of 
 sunny France through which runs a white road 
 where American trucks go thundering by In clouds 
 of dust. And it is all very lazy and hazy and — 
 satisfactory. For I don't seem to be thinking be- 
 yond. One doesn't when one is "militaire." One 
 gives oneself up to the powers above. No one 
 
68 A *T" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 doesn't, either 1 Not at critical moments. One can 
 steer and veer — gently. 
 
 Now it begins to look as though the work of the 
 Y. M . C. A. were nearly over. No more person- 
 nel is allowed in Germany, the army of occupation 
 being fully equipped, and if there is nothing to do, 
 one ought to go home. If, after the signing of the 
 Peace, it seems necessary to keep our army over 
 here some time, I shall make an effort to be sent to 
 the Rhine. Wherever our boys are waiting, and 
 getting disgusted, I want to be. 
 
 It is likely that a good friend of mine, a Lieuten- 
 ant of Co. F may come to see you. I asked him to, 
 as he lives near Chicago. He is a fine fellow and 
 has been so kind to me. I think he would enjoy 
 our home. I can see the garden and everything, 
 and sometimes — I wish I were there. 
 
 Chaumont, June nth, 1919. 
 
 Again I sit in the garden of the chateau, but 
 what a world of things I have seen and done since 
 I last wrote you from this spot! I have a sinking 
 feeling, that this is going to be a long letter, and I 
 wonder how I will ever find time to finish it. 
 
 The day after my last long letter I left Chau- 
 mont with another girl to go to an entraining point 
 just out of Gondrecourt, where we were to serve 
 chocolate to the departing troops. We started in 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 69 
 
 an automobile with all our baggage, a "Y" man 
 being our chauffeur. As usual, orders were vague 
 and mixed, and we landed in several wrong towns, 
 before we found out where we were wanted. This 
 however entailed so much driving over exception- 
 ally lovely country, that we really didn't mind. At 
 length, in the late afternoon we reached our desti- 
 nation, Barisey la Cote, a railhead, and I believe 
 the most desolate spot in France. Picture a freight 
 yard in all its heat and hideousness, and a collec- 
 tion of wooden barracks, no trees, and you will see 
 the place. Big Bay is pretty in comparison. The 
 water was bad, and had to be chlorinated and 
 hauled from afar, the weather was blazing hot, 
 the dust lay inches deep on the roads, ready to rise 
 in a stifling cloud at the passage of any vehicle. 
 Here we found some five hundred men (about a 
 hundred colored), and many hundreds of mules 
 and horses. Part of the 7th Division was there 
 temporarily on its way home. The rest were the 
 railhead force. 
 
 The first thing for us to do was to search for a 
 billet. As always, the oflicers could not be outdone 
 in their courtesy to us women in the A. E. F. and 
 every effort was made to make us comfortable. A 
 little asbestos shack of two rooms was turned over 
 to us, and an orderly assigned to us. I wish you 
 could have seen "Mac, the housekeeper" as we 
 
70 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 came to call him, the most lovable little Irishman 
 who took the best of care of us. For beds we had 
 two wooden frames with chicken wire stretched 
 over them, and plenty of blankets. As we expected 
 to stay ten days it was worth while making our 
 little home attractive, so with a few scarfs that I 
 had, and flowers, photographs and books, we made 
 a charming living-room which men and officers ap- 
 preciated to the full. My companion. Miss B., is 
 a jolly girl and we have become great pals. She 
 plays ragtime "to beat the band," which is a good 
 accomplishment over here. Both of us being short 
 and dark, we have been taken for sisters every- 
 where. 
 
 The entraining work at the railhead left us a 
 great deal of spare time, and we decided to open a 
 little "Y". An open shed with a roof was pro- 
 cured and we started in to arrange it. The boys 
 entered into the idea with enthusiasm. One volun- 
 teered to wire it for electric lights, others put down 
 a floor, and everybody helped decorate it with flags, 
 and bright chintz which the Y. M. C. A. gave us. 
 A lieutenant lent me a truck, and through a stroke 
 of luck I obtained a piano which was the finishing 
 touch. We soon had a gay, festive pavilion, and 
 how those boys, who were just sick with boredom, 
 flocked there ! Again I felt that this work was im- 
 measurably worth while. Miss B. and I worked 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 71 
 
 together pretty well, luckily. We had dances and 
 stunt shows, and singing all the time, and lemon- 
 ade always on tap, both at the railway station and 
 at our "Y," so you see our hands were full. Most 
 of the men were westerners, and enlisted, not 
 drafted, and I couldn't help compare them with 
 my boys of the 78th. As a class, I believe they 
 are more forceful and more responsive. It is the 
 independent, tall ranch owner or cow puncher, in 
 comparison with the small storekeeper or factory 
 hand. Don't think I am forgetting for a moment 
 my friends in my dear battalion who stood above 
 the average, but they did stand above the average. 
 As a crowd, the western boys sing better, dance 
 better, talk better, and swear louder 1 But every- 
 where in the United States is the respect for the 
 American woman the same, and everywhere our 
 soldiers are our devoted, helpful brothers. 
 
 Well — to cut this short — I forgot to tell you 
 about the darkies ! It was my first experience with 
 them over here. Against the advice of a southern 
 lieutenant, I went into their barracks one day and 
 got to talking with them. "Don't any of you boys 
 play or sing?" I asked. "Yes'm. Ah'm a musi- 
 cian mahself," modestly replied a coal black boy. 
 "Are you? well what do you play?" "Oh, mos' 
 anything, ma'am." "Do you play the guitar?" 
 "Yes'm, we've got a guitar but the strangs is 
 
72 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 broke." Of course I was able to remedy that, and 
 gave them all the "strangs" they needed, in addi- 
 tion lending them my guitar, which they never 
 failed to return to me in good condition at the 
 specified time. They had a great time, sitting out 
 on piles of lumber, twanging the guitars and sing- 
 ing. You could almost imagine you were down on 
 the old Mississippi. Whenever I passed, some 
 one would call out, "Miss, ain't you gwine to 
 play for us?" And I would take the guitar and 
 sing, while black, attentive faces packed close all 
 around me. "Give us jes one mo'. Miss," they 
 would plead when I started to go. My greatest 
 hit was "When Yankee Doodle learns to parley- 
 vous frangais," and when I would come to "Ulala I 
 Sweet Papal" they would smack their knees, and 
 giggle with delight. One evening they came down 
 to our "Y" and one clogged, while another played 
 the piano, and another evening they came and sang 
 to us. On the whole the white boys were on good 
 terms with the blacks, though they had one little 
 row while we were there. The whites were play- 
 ing the blacks at baseball. The game was a comic 
 affair, and was proceeding with the utmost good 
 nature, when one boy thoughtlessly called a darky 
 a "nigger." Great outrage! The colored boys re- 
 fused to play, the game was called off, and the 
 black team retreated in sulky silence. However, 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 73 
 
 they all made up the next day, and the game was 
 resumed. 
 
 Now I must skip over all the little human events 
 that go to make our days, and tell you about our 
 trip to the front. I have seen it, the strip of land 
 on which the world's attention has been focused 
 for so long. I have been to No Man's Land, and 
 the Argonne, and Verdun. For a long time I had 
 no desire to go. Something in me shrank from the 
 thought of hundreds of unimaginative tourists 
 speeding over the ground where men have so re- 
 cently died by the thousands. It seemed like ''/hunt- 
 ing our lives in the very faces of those who had 
 laid down theirs that we might live more happily. 
 Also, from all we have heard, and read, and felt, 
 I thought I could picture the war and the front as 
 vividly as if I had been there. And so I could. 
 Strange as it may sound, nothing surprised me up 
 there. I am not filled with any more hatred or 
 horror after seeing it than I was before. It is now 
 a vast desolation. I hope the world is going to be 
 better for it. Perhaps the flowers that are even 
 now covering the raw wounds in the earth are the 
 flowers of hope, ready to sow the seeds of promise. 
 I don't know whether to describe to you just what 
 I have seen or not. I'll try. 
 
 We were a party of eight Y. M. C. A. workers, 
 four men and four girls. We travelled in two ram- 
 
74 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 shackle old Fords. Ours had come from a salvage 
 pile, but it still had plenty of life in it, and got over 
 the ground with a terrific amount of noise and jar- 
 ring. The noise was indeed a Godsend, for it 
 made conversation impossible, and mercifully ob- 
 literated even our most brilliant sallies of wit. I 
 was able to retreat behind the motor's unmuffled 
 roaring far into the landscape and into my own 
 thoughts, and there I stayed most of the time. 
 
 We left Gondrecourt on Thursday afternoon, 
 June 5th. It was one of those soft days, delicious 
 ^u'aid air, that brought out all the fragrance of 
 the country, a gray sky and a soft light that gave us 
 the true essence of the colors in the fields because 
 there were no shadows. A tapestry day, when all 
 shades were subdued, woven through a warp of 
 mist. 
 
 This part of France, gently undulating, with 
 fields of grain and carefully tended wood, is very 
 lovely. There is a luxuriant grace about it. It is 
 a land of carved stone crosses. We kept passing 
 them by the roadside, beautiful in form and varied 
 in design. It is the land of Jeanne d'Arc, and of- 
 ten we passed her image with a vase of fresh flow- 
 ers beneath it. 
 
 In the early evening we arrived at Bar-le-Duc, 
 a sweet little city built round the famous old cha- 
 teau on the hill. As we drove through the streets I 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 75 
 
 was struck by the sign "Cave," "Cave Voutee," or 
 "Cave, 12 hommes," printed on the fronts of the 
 houses. All places of shelter from bombs were 
 clearly marked. Turning a corner we came upon 
 a building in ruins. Then upon one with a hole in 
 the roof. Bar-le-Duc had not escaped the enemies' 
 ravages. There we spent the night. The next day 
 we lunched at St. Menehould, then went out into 
 the Argonne itself. Oh, I can't describe it ! Think 
 of cultivated fields giving way to vast rank 
 stretches; ditches and shell holes everywhere; 
 rusty, tangled barbed wire on all sides ; miles and 
 miles of broken, sagging telephone wires; pathetic 
 pulverized villages, scarcely discernible on the 
 plain ; tops of hills sawed off and furrowed by shell 
 fire; lonely wooden crosses dotting the fields every- 
 where; refuse of all kinds along the roadside — a 
 man's puttee, a wrecked automobile, rusty iron, a 
 rifle belt, piles of unexploded shells; and signs in 
 French and English bearing severe traffic orders 
 spoke eloquently of the mad congestion on the 
 roads, now so lonely. This whole immense silence 
 and desertion told of pressing crowds, of fierce ex- 
 ertion, of wild excitement, of cursing and of pray- 
 ing, of roaring and blazing and dying. Eight 
 months ago it was hell on fire. And now there was 
 not a soul in sight, nor a sound. The hot sun beat 
 
76 A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 on it all. Now and then came a fetid odor that 
 turned you sick. The war is over. 
 
 Stopping at a prison camp for gasoline, a lieu- 
 tenant came up to me, and seeing the lightning 
 streak on my shoulder he told me that he too be- 
 longed to the 78th and remembered meeting me 
 last winter. He offered to take me and whoever 
 else was interested through the wood of Ardennes 
 where the 78th had fought in October. You can 
 imagine I was glad to go. So I have seen the 
 scarred and blasted woods and ravines through 
 which my boys panted and bled and kept on. I 
 seemed to almost live through it with them, and I 
 felt the exhilaration of battle more than the hor- 
 ror, and wished fervently that I could have been 
 a man fighting with them. We came to a place 
 where the Germans had blown up two engines. 
 Right there Lieut. S. said the 31 ith had its supply 
 dump. And sure enough, on a tree I saw the good 
 old Lightning Sign ! I took it down, for I know 
 the boy who made all the signs, and intend to give 
 it to some one for a souvenir. 
 
 But to skip over more quickly, we spent that 
 night at Romagne, where the great American-Ar- 
 gonne cemetery is being made. The next day we 
 visited Grand Pre, the town which the 78th took; 
 a terrible wreck, bearing the signs of hot street 
 fighting, the standing walls being nicked and rid- 
 
A 'T" GIRL IN FRANCE 77 
 
 died with machine gun fire. Here again my spirit 
 was back with my fighting boys reliving it all with 
 them. 
 
 And then, following the long desolate front, we 
 went to Verdun. But I can't give you any more 
 descriptions. That Verdun battle field! That 
 stronghold, which the Germans did not pass I I 
 will never forget it. Even the Argonne is a green, 
 fertile place in comparison. Blasted skeleton for- 
 ests, dead fields, plowed and plowed again with 
 shells. Death, and the silence of death. 
 
 I found myself repeating under my breath some 
 verses of poetry that had caught my eye last win- 
 ter, written by an oflicer. 
 
 "Nous avons cherche la Victoirc. 
 Ou se cache-t-elle, dis-raoi? 
 Et, repassant la Meuse noire, 
 EUe me crie, 'Au fond de toi.' " 
 
 and 
 
 "Est-ce vrai que la mort est une vie immense? 
 Est-ce vrai que la vie est I'amour de mourir?" 
 
 Lieut. Joachim Gasquet, auteur des 
 
 "Hymnes de la Grande Guerre." 
 
 In such ways I tried to understand and to visualize 
 all that had taken place there. 
 
 V^e returned to Gondrecourt Sunday evening. 
 On Monday I had a new and comic experience. 
 The Y. M. C. A. announced an auction of all its 
 supplies and I was asked to conduct it, being the 
 
78 A *T" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 only American who spoke French. They tell me 
 that I have missed my vocation, that I ought to 
 have been a saleslady. Any way I made a lark out 
 of it, and gave the shrewd old French ladies tit 
 for tat, which delighted them. 
 
 Now I am back in Chaumont working in the 
 library of the "Y." It is a temporary job. I 
 have half an idea I shall be homeward bound soon. 
 
 Goodbye dear family. This pen will drive me 
 distracted, and they cost ten dollars over here 1 
 
 June 25 th. 
 Officers' Hut, Chaumont. 
 
 Another change of job. From buck privates 
 to elderly majors and lieutenant colonels 1 About 
 a week ago I was assigned to the Officers' Hut 
 at Chaumont. This has been, naturally, the larg- 
 est and pleasantest officers' "Y" in France, but 
 owing to the daily diminishing of the personnel 
 at G. H. Q. the business of the "Y" is rapidly fall- 
 ing off. I was sent here principally on account of 
 my knowledge of French. Ahem! There is a 
 large restaurant and a French force employed, 
 and I am the medium of communication with 
 them. I manage to keep the peace by translating 
 the orders diplomatically, softening them and 
 politening them. 
 
 There are many pleasant aspects to this work. 
 I enjoy very much being with cultivated people 
 
A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 79 
 
 again, though my fondness for the expressive 
 doughboy is as great as ever. After all, there is 
 something comfortable about good grammar, and 
 I confess that a conversation with a dash of high- 
 brov/ism contains a pleasure all its own. 
 
 The first day I was here I met Colonel MacC. 
 of Chicago. He has been very kind to me. Sun- 
 day evening he took me to call on some French 
 friends of his and we had a very delightful time. 
 
 The atmosphere of Chaumont is totally differ- 
 ent from that of dear little Pouillenay. There 
 are many American girls, Red Cross, Y. M. C. A. 
 and Y. W. C. A., and giddy telephone girls. 
 Every night there is a party at the chateau and 
 much gaiety. The boys here certainly have a 
 great deal of entertainment. The social pace is 
 too much for me. I get out of things as much 
 as I can without being too rude. It won't last 
 much more than a week anyway, and then I shall 
 be ready and glad to come home. 
 
 Peace has come! "Le jour de gloire est ar- 
 rive." Early yesterday morning, I was awakened 
 by the strains of a band approaching nearer and 
 nearer. It didn't sound like an American band, 
 and I jumped out of bed to see what it was. 
 There in the early grayness of morning French 
 soldiers were marching to a band composed of 
 bugles and drums. They marched seriously, with 
 
8o A "Y" GIRL IN FRANCE 
 
 rifles over their shoulders and bayonets fixed. 
 This was their triumphant march, yet there was 
 no triumph in it. As I watched the little blue 
 figures keeping step to their strange yet spirited 
 march, the tears came to my eyes, and I felt the 
 tragedy of France, and I loved her. In Paris 
 they say there were all sorts of gay doings, in 
 which the Americans took part, but I shall always 
 remember this little column of men, marching 
 solemnly through the town of Chaumont. 
 
 Paris, July 15. 
 "Plans have been seething these last ten days 
 since I have been in Paris, but after a great deal 
 of sifting and shifting I have accepted the offer of 
 the French Red Cross. I am discharged from the 
 Y. M. C. A. and am enrolled as a member of the 
 "Union des Femmes de France !" This means that 
 I finish the summer working in the devastated re- 
 gions of France, and I go next Thursday to 
 Noyon. They permitted me to keep my old uni- 
 form and my cape. It seemed so stupid to buy an- 
 other expensive suit when my present one is prac- 
 tically as good as new. (I do believe these Y. M. 
 C. A. uniforms are imperishable I) So I removed 
 the triangle from my sleeve, and I now form part 
 of an organization totally French, but — they allow 
 me to retain the dear old red patch with its Light- 
 ning Streak, which mean? 50 much to me, on my 
 left shoulder," 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
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