ON THE MAIN FRONT
E arrived at Nancy October 7th, at six o'clock P. M. and spent the evening at a reception given by the Prefect L. Mirman. We met here Madam Mirman and her two daughters. In the entrance to the prefect's residence were several large holes which had been blown out by the German shells. During the reception we were shown an embroidered sheet, filled with holes. This was taken from the window of a hospital, fired on by the Germans, July, 1916. The name of the hospital was Point Au Mousson. The sheet was hanging in a window when the shrapnel was fired into it. This was considered ample proof that the hospital was fired upon with the full knowledge that it was a hospital.
This visit to prefect Mirman's home was a red letter event in our trip. He is one of the important men of France and is devoting much of his time to the care of refugees and other good work.
As we stopped at the entrance of Nancy, we saw an aeroplane flying over the town. This aeroplane was intended to convoy us to our destination.
Next day we were driven to the village of Luneville. At this place, as in nearly all the towns of France, there is a public market house, with stalls usually presided over by women. Late in September the Germans dropped from aeroplanes a number of bombs on this market house. The entire building was destroyed and forty-one women killed, besides a number of children who were playing about. We saw the ruins of the market house. This sort of battle waging is called "German terrorism", otherwise, a "stepping stone to kultur".
There is an immense palace in Luneville called the Palace of Stanislaus, occupied by a former King of Poland.
Our headquarters were at Nancy, where we remained for two days. We were shown every possible attention by the prefect and under his guidance visited various parts of the city. Among other places "The Golden Gates" of Louis XVI and the gate of the old town erected in 1336. We visited the park and were shown a hole where a German shell had penetrated, the hole being fully fifty feet deep. We visited the cathedral of St. Elme and were shown where the beautiful stained glass had been blown out of the windows. We visited the Ducal Chapel, which dates back to the Tenth century, where the princes of the House of Hapsburg are entombed. Sand bags were piled up everywhere to prevent further ruin to this ancient place. We were shown the ruins of the cooking school reported by German aviators as a military building and for that reason destroyed.
[Illustration: Cathedral at Nancy.]
Practically one-half of the town is in ruins. The military barracks are now used for housing and caring for refugees from all over France and this is done with great system. The expense is figured down to one franc per day for each person. We saw there a children's school, playground, orphanage and Cinema show, and attended church services at which were present several thousand refugees. We could hear the cannon booming during the entire services. Many of the refugees were at work making bags for the trenches and embroidering. We visited the museum and were shown tombs and urns dating back to the Second century. During a luncheon at the Cafe Stanislaus an impassioned address was made by the prefect.
We left Nancy at 2 P. M. for Chalons on the Marne, one of the three important military supply centers of France. En-route we passed a number of ruined villages with scarcely a house left and with but few inhabitants. We passed through Bar Le Duc also, another distributing center. On this memorable part of the journey we skirted three battle fronts, Verdun, Somme and the Marne. We noticed numerous trench soldiers in squads, enroute to and from the trenches.
The discipline of the French army is very much different from that of the English and Germans. The officers and the French soldiers are comrades. The German and French soldiers have no tents, they sleep in their overcoats. I expected that when we got into the war zone we would see tents everywhere, but there was not a tent in sight.
The distance from Nancy to Chalons on the Marne is 108 miles. All this distance we travelled close in the rear of the French army and much of it near the German army. In the early part of the year this ground was occupied by the Germans, being afterwards retaken by the French. We were closest to the trenches when passing St. Miheil, where the famous German salient was still held.
We reached Chalons on the Marne at 10 o'clock on the evening of October 8th, after a busy and most interesting day. We were quartered here for the night and remained part of the next morning. During our stay we could hear the booming of guns continuously, and saw many evidences of military occupation. At this time the Germans had been forced back about thirty miles from Chalons on the Marne, and their shells were no longer feared in this immediate vicinity. The cannon we heard along the greater portion of the route after passing Bar Le Duc must have been French guns, although the German big guns can be heard for fifty miles under favorable circumstances.
At Chalons on the Marne an incident occurred which made a deep impression on me, although it was in itself simple enough. It was my custom to go about much seeking to see whatever was to be seen at all of our stops. Usually I had a companion, but sometimes went alone. On this occasion Mr. Warren, of the Commission, was with me. We had entered the Cathedral of Notre Dame, to inspect its interior and arrived just as a funeral service was ending. It was one of those pathetic funerals, now common enough in France, at which the body is not present, in this case being that of a young man killed in the army and evidently an only son.
The services ended with a procession around the church and this brought the mourners to where we were. We fell in with them, this being our natural impulse and also, we believed, the proper and courteous thing to do, rather than to rudely retire. When the party reached the main aisle, the friends gathered around the father and mother and two daughters, weeping with them and kissing them in the demonstrative way the French have of showing both grief and affection. Before we knew just what to do, the mourners melted away, taking with them the mother and daughters. Mr. Warren also had disappeared and I was left practically alone with the father of the dead boy. He approached me and extended his hand, having perhaps read in my face something of my feelings. He knew no English and I knew no French, but the language of human sympathy is universal. We grasped hands and the only word uttered was my crude "Americaine." None other was needed. I could tell by the pressure of the hand holding mine that my sympathy was appreciated, even though I was from across the seas and an utter stranger, and any doubts I had felt about the propriety of remaining were thoroughly dispelled.
[Illustration: German Trenches Captured by the French.]
Funerals such as this are very frequent in France. Scarcely a family but has suffered its loss, and in some cases several sons have been taken from one home. Among the hundreds of personal cards brought back with me from France, an astonishing number are bordered deeply with black. These are the cards of the most prominent people in the places we visited, the members of the Commission having met few others, and the mourning border on so many of them shows that in France as well as in England, the upper classes have borne their full share of the terrific toll levied by the war.
Before leaving Chalons on the Marne we visited the canal, the banks of which were lined with flowers and ivy. We crossed here a bridge built in the Seventeenth century and still in good condition.