BREUVERY
June 27th, 1918
On June 23rd we boarded the now familiar troop trains at Châte-sur-Moselle, and before we were off them we had zig-zagged our way more than half the distance to Paris, going up as far as Nancy, down to Neufchateau, northwest again by Bar-le-Duc, finally detraining on June 24th, at Coolus, south of Chalons-sur-Marne. We are now in five villages along the River Coole. We have left Lorraine at last and are in the province of Champagne. It is a different kind of country. The land is more level and less heavily wooded; the houses are built of a white, chalky stone with gray tiles instead of red; and with outbuildings in the rear of them—with the result (for which heaven be praised) that the dung heaps are off the streets. The inhabitants strike us as being livelier and less worried, whether from natural temperament or distance from the battle line, I do not know. The weather is beautiful and it is the joy of life to walk along the shaded roads that border the sleepy Coole and drop in on a pleasant company at mess time to share in their liveliness and good cheer. Today it was a trip to St. Quentin with the Machine Gun Company. Johnnie Webb and Barnett picked me up on the road and formed my escort, leading me straight to the kitchen, where Sergeant Ketchum and Mike Clyne were making ready for the return of the hungry gunners. Lieutenant De Lacour wanted me to go to Captain Seibert’s mess but I preferred by lunch on the grass with Milton Cohen, John Kenny, Ledwith, McKelvey, Murphy, Chester Taylor and Pat Shea. This is the kind of a war I like.