Two Colored women with the American Expeditionary Forces

by Addie W. Hunton; Kathryn M. Johnson

Perrolife, Mayor.

April 27, 1919.

Always the French were kind, courteous and understanding and expressed again and again their admiration and sympathy for our soldiers.

Two or three of the hikes taken by our men were so full of historic interest as to be worthy of a brief description. None afforded quite so much fun as that to Mt. Revard. Breakfast at seven and an eight o’clock start on the little steam tram to Chambery was the order. At Chambery the train was taken for Aix-les-Bains. There a half day was given to seeing the places of interest already described, and for lunch. At 12.30 all assembled at the Mt. Revard station to ascend on the cog railway. Any description of the ever-changing and widening view of the ascent fails in its attempt to give a real idea of the beauty, splendor or majesty of the scenery as they in turn reveal themselves. More than five thousand feet the train climbs, stopping for a moment at two stations where the natives sell apples and give away smiles and good cheer.

On the top the whole snow-clad Alpine system is in view. One sees the whole Bernese Oberland system and Mt. Blanc, almost fifty miles away, seems but a good hike distant on a clear day. But the real fun comes with the coasting, skiing and other snow sports—for Mt. Revard is snow clad most of the year. The train descends steeply at many places, but it has been a rare day that men will recount to their children and grand-children, so no one seems afraid. “Overseas” songs in joyful strain fill the echoing caves and crevices and float out on the lake as the day closes and the train returns them to Aix-les-Bains.

Lake Bourget, the largest and most beautiful of French lakes, offered another happy day. First, by train to Bordeau or to Aix-les-Bains, thence by boat out on Lake Bourget. We ride across its shimmering surface and fathomless depth; mountains surround it on all sides and are reflected in all their glory on the lovely water of this lake. We are told that although it is in the region of snow and ice it never freezes, because of an undercurrent or springs of hot water. On the mountain sides, no matter how steep, one sees vineyards—vineyards almost everywhere. Chateaux or villas lend added charm to the scene. Among these one sees one called the Maison du Diable—house of the devil—with a strange tradition attached to it. One sees also the Hotel du Bois di Lamartine—so named because it is located in a grove named for the poet Lamartine. It was there he found inspiration for many of his poems, including “Le Lac.” The Chateau St. Gilles and the Chateau Chatillon, in which one of the popes of Rome was born are also to be seen. But the dominating architecture of Lake Bourget is Hautecombe Abbey, with its octagonal towers and many windows toward which our steamer makes its way.

Hautecombe Abbey was founded in 1125 by some Benedictine monks who, inspired by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, decided to change to the Cistercian Order. The Abbey has, with the rest of Savoie, seen many vicissitudes as a result of wars, but for nearly seven hundred years it remained in the hands of the Cistercians. When the French Revolution came, the monks fled and the Abbey passed into the hands of the nation for a time. Through all the preceding centuries it had been the burial place for the House of Savoie. Finally, in 1824, it was bought at private expense by Charles Felix, Duke of Savoie, who was also King of Sardinia. He at once proceeded to have restored this burial place of his ancestors and to put in charge again some monks of the Cistercian Order. Again, in 1860, the Abbey went into the hands of France, but by special treaty in 1862, it was made the private property of Victor Emmanuel II and is now the property of the present King of Italy.

The most historic part of the Abbey is the beautiful Gothic church. Many chapels with massive tombs of Italian royalty are to be found. Some of them are of the finest Carrara marble as is also the beautiful Pieta, by Cacciatori. The dome is decorated with paintings of great interest and value. There is a wonderful hand carved organ and paintings by famous artists over the chancel. In every little niche may be seen little statues of weeping women, some five hundred of them and all different. Much history, tradition and mystery link themselves to all that one sees in the church.

Next is shown a Royal Suite that was fitted up in 1825 for Charles Felix and Marie Christine. Everything is well preserved. Visitors, and especially women, are not admitted to the part of the Monastery occupied by the monks. Each time we made this trip, we were somehow moved by the sight of hundreds of khaki-clad soldiers making their way quietly through this old Abbey.

Every schoolboy has heard how Hannibal crossed the Alps, so that a day’s outing to Hannibal’s Pass, although in involved much hiking, was always a popular one. The men would go by tram again to the little fishing village of Bordeau on Lake Bourget, then ascend the Cat Mountain to a pass that opens into the valley of the Rhone. Standing among these wonderful Alps a Y man would repeat the story of the hero of Carthage who, more than two centuries before the birth of Christ, had climbed with his army to this Pass and then descended into Italy. He would tell how he suffered great loss of men and much hardship but how he was a determined foe of the Romans and so fought them unto death.