It is rumored—in fact, Major Hansell told me last night—that it is more than probable that we will ultimately be quartered in barracks at Chaumont. The high command have motored over there this morning to look over the ground.
August 9th. Nothing of any particular event. The days have been fine. We have had our morning classes each day. Some of these classes are fairly interesting, but the majority are rather dull. Russell and I left the mess for a few days, but everywhere we went the French made some attempt to do us.
Several days ago we had definite orders we were to move to Chaumont—going into barracks. Chaumont is a town of fifteen thousand and at least will be more pleasant than this dirty little place.
After lunch I applied to Major Hansell to be temporarily detailed for field service. He did not seem adverse to the idea and told me to bring the matter up later. I certainly want to see active service. This present situation is not my idea of an able man's job, but something that can be carried on by "any old person." I should like to get where there is a little "red blood" and hear the last of the damned old laundry and ice plant and whether the nurses got in on time or not.
August 12th. Still waiting and doing nothing. Yesterday the men played the officers at baseball, the latter winning 2-1. It was a surprisingly good game. In the evening the first real instalment of letters from home.
I was officer of the day Friday. On making my ten o'clock rounds found not a single light in the village streets and only one or two small groups of people going home. It was a wonderful night, the wind just whispering gently through the tree tops. I walked a bit in the park. Nothing but silence. One might have been in a deserted village. On coming in one could see the gun flashes toward Nancy, but we were too far away to hear the sound. I stood on the balcony a long time watching them. It all seemed so strange. All peace and tranquillity here and forty miles away men struggling and battling for their lives.
Today No. 6 Field Hospital came over and played our men at baseball. Score 6-10 in favor of Roosevelt. The special interest of the game, as far as the French were concerned, was the yelling and shouting of the enlisted men, who simply outdid themselves playing Indian.
There is a young fellow, Le Sieur by name, who escaped two weeks ago from a German prison in Mayence. He and a friend forged passports and boarded a train for Switzerland. It was their third attempt. The first two were failures. He is here on a thirty days' leave with his mistress.
Some officers came over with the baseball team from Gondrecourt. They are a fine-looking lot of men. They are as disgusted with their lot as we are with ours. Everything is apparently at sixes and sevens, but at least they are apparently having much more activity and are able to move about the country and see things. I am terribly keen to be transferred into a Field Ambulance.
The Chaumont question is all up a tree. Apparently the French are not willing to turn the buildings over to us. At first they say, "Come on and we will do all in our power," then when you come, the path is strewn with every kind of petty annoyance.