LONGEAU
January 21st, 1918
Last night the church bells rang at midnight; and waking, I said: “Bombers overhead!” A minute later I heard the cry Fire! Fire! and the bugles raising the same alarm. It was a big stable at the south end of the town—we had gasoline stored in it and some soldier was careless. The street was thronged in an instant with running soldiers and civilians. The village firemen or pompiers came running up at a plowman gait—looked the fire over—and went back to put on their proper uniforms. One old lad came all the way from Percey in a gendarme’s chapeau. He could not properly try to put out a fire in that headgear, so he went all the way back and arrived at last, puffing but satisfied, in the big pompier nickel-plated helmet. Their big pump was pulled up to Longeau, and the hose was laid with the proper amount of ceremony and shouting, and the stream finally put on the blazing shed. The remainder of the population displayed little of the proverbial French excitability. They looked on with the air of men who can enjoy a good spectacle, happy in the thought that the rich American Government would have to pay for it.
The soldiers were happy too at having a chance to fight something. Colonel Barker gave orders in his quiet way, which Captains Anderson and Mangan put into execution. The fountain ran out and bucket lines were formed. I am afraid that some of the contents instead of getting to the fire was dumped on the gaudy uniforms of the funny old pompiers, who insisted upon running around giving orders that nobody could understand. This is the second French fire we have witnessed and the general verdict is that our moving picture people have missed the funniest unstudied episode left in the world by not putting a French village fire department on the screen. It was a good show in every way—but incidentally the building was a total loss.