Situated as it is upon an eminence, a view that is beyond description is to be obtained from Langres. From the ramparts one may see the upper valley of the Marne with its checkerboard of farms of various hues; the Vosges; and on a clear day the white peak of Mont Blanc, one hundred and sixty miles distant.
In strong contrast with the way in which ancient warriors entered Langres, we were loaded onto motor trucks and taken up the steep and winding way that led to the gates of the city by means of the most modern way of transportation. Our eyes were fastened on the oddities of this strangely interesting city as we wound through the streets, some of which were narrow, others wide, past well kept parks and buildings older than most of the modern governments, and we were filled with a sort of reverence for this historic spot as we took our places in the barracks made ready for us.
CHAPTER IV[ToC]
Nearing the Front
After we were installed in the barracks at Langres and had our personal belongings straightened out, we were given the day to ourselves. This was the first freedom that we had had since our arrival in France. The boys, of course, all went to the business section of the city, where many of them were given their first glimpse of French customs and French methods of merchandising. As I had been fortunate in getting into the business section of Brest while we were there, this was not new to me, but to most of the boys it was a novel experience. They spent their time and much of their money in the French stores, buying small articles of various kinds. One oddity of the freedom that we were given here was the fact that the American soldiers, although forbidden to buy alcoholic liquors in America, were permitted to buy them without restrictions in France, and it is only telling the plain truth to say that many of them sampled the French beers, wines and cognac.
I had an experience in a French barber shop that may be of interest, as it shows the difference between French and American barbers. The French barber does his work very rapidly, in fact so rapidly when he is shaving that the patron wonders whether or not he is going to get out of the chair uninjured. I ordered a haircut, a shave, a shampoo and a face massage. I had much difficulty at first in making my wants understood, particularly as to the manner in which I wanted my hair cut. This finally made clear, I sat in the chair and the barber went to work on me with his sharp shears. His hands moved like lightning and it seemed like no more than two minutes that he had the job done. It was the fastest hair cutting I ever witnessed and a good job, too. He then proceeded to shave me, and for speed he exceeded his already phenomenal record as a hair cutter. He put a thin lather on my face and then with a thin razor—the thinnest I ever saw—he slashed off a four days' growth with six strokes—one down the right cheek, one down the left cheek, one across the entire upper lip, one—a fancy curved stroke—across the chin, then up one side of the neck and a final stroke up the other. In less time than it takes to tell, the job was done, and it was a clean smooth shave too. But while he was slashing that razor around I was uneasy. It was my first and last experience with a French barber; thereafter, it was safety first. The massage was excellent, but what impressed me about the shampoo was the small amount of water used. Water must be costly in Langres from the way that barber conserved it, but with no more than a handful of water, he did his work well. The face waters used by French barbers are all highly perfumed, in fact, too much so for the rough Westerner. When a man leaves a barber shop he carries a sickening sweet aroma with him and his friends know where he has been when he is as much as a hundred yards away. It may be of interest to note that the shave, hair cut, shampoo and massage cost me two and a half francs, or a little less than 50 cents American money. The price of the same service in the average American shop at the present time (August, 1919) would be about $1.65.
The following day the men in our detachment were assigned to various kinds of work at Langres. I was given a motor truck to drive. It was in very poor condition and my first duty was to get it in working order. I spent three days overhauling it and had it in fair serviceable shape. But after putting all this work on it, I had the pleasure of running it only about three days, for I received orders, along with 208 others, to pack and get ready for a special course in a military school. I had only half an hour's time to get ready, but at the appointed time I was prepared to go, and with the boys chosen for the schooling, was loaded onto a motor truck and taken to Fort St. Menge, one of the numerous protecting forts around Langres. This was an old fort, apparently built many years ago. It was situated on the summit of a mountain and was surrounded by a moat, which, however, was dry. It was substantially built and exceedingly interesting. The barracks were built underground and of stone. They were sealed and were water-tight. Soil from ten to fifteen feet in depth covered these stone compartments and they were proof from the bombs of other days, but would have but feebly resisted the modern high explosives. There were also several tunnels leading from various parts of the interior to the outer walls, so that men could be taken to any part of the fort that might be attacked without being exposed to the enemy's fire. About a thousand men could be billeted there.
Water for this fort was supplied from two deep wells and raised by a peculiar lift pump, different from any that I ever saw before. It was a sort of combination of a lift and pressure pump and was of European design and manufacture. The wells were deep and the water good, for France.