Last night we went over to a musical show at the Marshal Ney Barracks. It was very poor—absolutely devoid of imagination or humor.
This morning I got the motor after some scrapping and took Yocum, Hodges and Kennon over to Metz. We went via Pont-à-Mousson. There was a thick fog which practically obscured the views. As we passed through Pont-à-Mousson I could not but think of the time I was last there with Normand when shells were coming and going all the time. The road was still fairly full of transports, but nothing like old times. Pont-à-Mousson was more shot up than when I last saw it, and it was almost deserted.
From there we soon ran into German territory, with old gun emplacements, camouflage and ruined buildings all along the road.
Metz was gaily decorated with flags, and the streets were gay with French and Americans, but the whole air suggested a conquered city. Some shops had posted "Maison Française" on the door; painters were rapidly changing the signs from German to French. The Hotel welcomed one, but everywhere it was with the air of the conqueror. The people were frightened and did not know what was going to happen. There were only eight thousand real Alsace-Lorraines in the city, so an intelligent German officer told me, and most of the "hurrahing" was done from policy.
Boys and men were doing a thriving business in selling Boche souvenirs. Iron crosses and belts being their specialty. And the Americans were the victims, especially the large army who fought the war in swivel chairs and are seeing the front for the first time.
In spite of all tales to the contrary, the shops seemed full, especially the provision stores. Prices are very high. I saw plain women's hats, that are generally seen at a store like Macy's piled by hundreds in a box and selling for fifty cents, marked fifty and sixty francs. There was no rubber, so bicycle tires were made of a steel spring arrangement and one of rope. Shoes had wooden soles.
We had a very good plain dinner, but paid ten francs for what ordinarily would have been about three marks. The beer was simply bitter water.
Coming home we passed on the other bank of the Moselle and back through Lorry, Fleury, Meiul-la-Tour, and so home, but the roads were all deserted—so very different from my previous visits.
December 12th. Yesterday Fullerton (Major Robert Fullerton of St. Louis) asked me to go to Montfaucon and Varennes with him. We started this morning at eight a. m. in a drizzling rain and fog.
On our way out we went through Commercy, St. Mihiel and Verdun. The latter looked much tidier than when I saw it in July with Brewer. Out of Verdun through the Gate St. Paul into the beyond on the Montfaucon road, the battlefield is still fresh. The destruction is worse than anything I have so far seen. The earth for miles is torn with shells, one hole knocked out and then the edge of that hole knocked into another. Several of the holes were twelve to fourteen feet deep, and thirty-five or forty feet across. Everywhere was wreckage; gunners' positions, guns (77's), machine guns, clothes, rifles and quantities of Boche ammunition; all the towns about were obliterated.