It seems we were the first Americans since one Gillette, of safety-razor fame, had established a factory there some twelve years ago. Gillette! Gillette! We heard all about razors till I wished Gillette shaved into fragments. We must see the factory in the morning. We must visit Collin's surgical instrument emporium.
At seven thirty in the morning they were on the job, but we stayed in our room and watched the market going on in the public square.
September 14th. A fine driving rain and a beautiful cold in the head, and all the rooms have a dampness that drives to the bone. Finished my twenty-four hours as O. D. at nine this morning—nothing happened.
September 16th. Time drags interminably. It is a glorious day, but absolutely nothing to do, either in the way of play or work. I feel as if my brain were jellifying, or that if something did not happen I must simply run away. Army life! It squeezes every inch of individuality out of a man. Its rules are those of the Medes and Persians, and no blue-black Presbyterian could be more strict in their observance. In the fighting line it is all right, but in the "administering angel" job it is Hell.
The men are playing baseball and the Frenchmen Rugby football. James, Cave and myself lunched at the France, but it was deadly. The streets contain only old women with few teeth and look bedraggled out of all proportion.
September 20th. Tuesday night Kilbane and I dined at the Signal Corps quarters. They are in the Château of Chaumont, down under the hill. It is a wonderful little place, resplendent with a hundred memories, for the place was built by Louis XV for a hunting lodge, and, to all appearances, remains unchanged to-day. It is built on a court, only two stories high, and much of the old fittings still remain. The garden is overgrown with weeds and the flowers are sadly neglected, but in spite of everything one's imagination harks back to former times, for the atmosphere is all there. As we were shown around by Major Dodd it seemed almost sacrilegious to turn it over to the unappreciative hands of officers.
Colonel Churchill was the Commanding Officer. He impressed me very much as a gentleman and a personality of much charm.
September 24th. Two glorious autumn days with wonderful sunrises and sunsets. Only small bunches of clouds are appearing, which in all probability means trouble for tomorrow.