Upon his suggestion I sent a hundred francs to Pierre Lenotier to square up for the black eye Ben gave him, so perhaps that worry was off my mind at last, too.... It’s remarkable what a few nights in Paris can do for one, if you happen to be lucky!
The Captain said he was going to try to get me transferred to his office. We could be together almost all the time ... and then what would happen? Frankly I didn’t trust myself very far! Even with the best morale, army life was demoralizing!
CHAPTER 17
The Death Ships
—1—
We had to go down to Brest by train because our wagon broke down just outside of Paris and when the General heard that it would take perhaps two days to fix it, he told Ben to stay there and bring it down, and the rest of us took a train.
It was sure one long tiresome journey even in a half-decent French train—which corresponds to a third-rate American railroad bus.
And then to cap it all, when we arrived in the station, a sergeant rushed up and took our baggage, threw it on a truck and drove away before we could even begin to wonder at such actions. The General had wired for a reservation at the Hôtel Continentale, so we proceeded thither at once. The maître bowed us in and told the General that his bags had already arrived and were in his suite.
We went up and almost immediately the General thought of something he wanted from his trunk. I went over to get it, the trunk opened easily enough, but there on the very top of the contents was a pair of very fancy garters, a pair of silk bloomers, a shimmy and a pair of silk hose, all more or less mussed, as if they had been worn. I took so long getting what he wanted that the General finally came over, and when he saw the assortment of ladies’ wear he exploded like an H.E.
“What in the devil is this?” he demanded. “Is this a joke Sergeant?”
I said that I didn’t know anything about it.