Miss Sheriff has gotten the officers' lounge almost ready for occupancy.
November 1st. All Saints' Day! And a wonderful clear day, not a cloud in the sky and scarcely a breath of wind to scatter the falling leaves. There was real joy in the air and everyone showed it.
In the morning Miss A. came. Miss A. is one of the Red Cross and is rummaging around, God knows why, because she cannot speak French, nor does she know anything of hospitals. I showed her through my wards, but it was all Greek to her.
In the afternoon I started out on my bicycle. Rode to Noisy-sur-Seize and then crossed the hills to Luzy. It was just sunset as I went over the divide, and no one can describe the peaceful beauty of it all. The church bells were tolling the Angelus, the long Angelus for the repose of souls. Smoke curled up in thin, blue columns from the little houses below in the valley, and the slanting rays of the sinking sun lit up woods and meadows with a wonderful golden glow. It lasted for a few minutes and slowly died out, and always the bells, ringing out the fading day. I sat on the crest of the hill and watched the last shadows, and then went on down into Luzy in the gray twilight, and so on home.
The Padre (Burnett) was in the room, and a hot discussion was in progress on the All Hallowe'en dance, which was given for all enlisted men, nurses and officers.
November 4th. I am now senior medical officer, Floyd having been called away to organize some hospital.
Major Lewis shot himself last night (suicide) down in the pretty little château at Chamaronde. Alfred Stillman was called down. He found him lying with the automatic revolver in his hand.
Peck and Cave have returned from the French front where they were working for five weeks. They are full of it, saying they were treated royally.
November 8th. The same old story.—Last night dined with Kilbane at Luzy. Rain and general slow times.