Thursday, October 15th. We all got started this morning at half-past six. I had told the chauffeur to warn the nurses to provide milk, food, and everything the children would need for the long day’s run, as I planned to make Paris in one day and did not wish to stop except for emergencies. I put the five youngest “kids” and the two nurses inside the limousine and took the English governess and the two older children in the back seat of my own car.
Despite my papers from the Mayor of Paris-Plage, my personal passes, and a large sign across the front of the automobile reading, “In the Service of the Ambassador of the United States,” I had an exciting time getting past the gendarmes of the town and the Prefecture of Montreuil. The difficulty lay in the nationality of the children and of one of the nurses, all of whom were Hungarians and therefore officially enemies of France. As such they were not supposed to travel about, especially not behind the French battle-line. The details of my struggles are too numerous to relate, but finally we got through successfully and at good speed ran towards Paris. The day throughout proved a strenuous one with many detentions caused by suspicious sentries and over cautious prefects, together with four blow-outs and one breakdown. Each self-important petty official could see no reason why I should not spend several hours explaining things for his special benefit. It was manifestly impossible to keep the babies out over-night, and therefore I overrode objections, answered innumerable questions, and freely used the magic name of the American Ambassador.
The frequent tire trouble, which gave the rest of us much anxiety, filled the heart of little Count Paul, aged seven, with unalloyed delight, for when the machine stopped to shift tires, he could get out in the road and listen to the thrilling sound of guns booming off to the left.
In the end, what had to be done was done. We made Paris and “Mother” at eight o’clock after a fourteen-hour run—all dead tired, but no one the worse for the trip.
I obtained a very telling idea of the immensity of the Battle of the Aisne on this rapid run, for today the atmosphere had cleared and was in a sound-transmitting mood, so that all day long we could hear the cannon on our left booming, booming, without cessation—eighty miles of cannon, or fourteen hours of booming, a big measure. Our route lay through Etaples, Montreuil, Abbeville, Pont Remy, Aviames, Poix, where we stopped for luncheon, Grandvilliers, Pontoise, and through the Porte Maillot into Paris.
CHAPTER VII
THE AMERICAN AMBULANCE
Paris, Thursday, October 15th. For the present the jottings in my diary grow farther and farther apart, as events worth recording have during the past weeks occurred with less and less frequency. The volume of Embassy work in the department of Germans, Austrians, and Hungarians has of late been steadily decreasing. Since the end of September our work has chiefly consisted of routine diplomatic correspondence relating to prisoners of war. Mr. Herrick’s efforts have recently been successful in obtaining from the French government an order permitting interned civilians to return by way of Switzerland to their homes in Germany and Austria-Hungary. This achieves the last vital aim for which he has struggled and now that everything has been reduced to calm and routine it is probable that he will soon return to America. The volunteer Attachés, whose duty does not keep them permanently in the diplomatic service, begin to feel that since there is no longer pressing need of their assistance they must soon return to their several professions and to the peaceful occupations of civil life. They have worked under the inspiring leadership of a man with whom familiarity breeds respect, and have had the honor of knowing him as one knows those only with whom one has passed through dark days. Mr. Herrick has proved himself one of those rare men who are possessed of high ideals and far vision and who at the same time refuse to be impractical.