It has been impossible to send you anything but postal cards the last few weeks because I have been so busy. Also the 78th's post office was disorganized owing to preparations for moving, so I must go back a long way if I am to give you any idea of what has been happening. Let's see.
The day before Easter the sun came out. Sergeant R. and I went out to gather flowers for Easter decorations for the tent. The fields were covered, fairly sparkling, with little yellow primroses too pretty for words. And in the wet places were masses of delicate lavender flowers. Brooks gurgling, sprays of wild fruit blossoms in the hedges, everything juicy and green and radiant. After weeks of rain the sun had actually broken forth to glorify it all. We filled baskets with a feathery mixture of gold and lavender, this sweet-natured, devoted boy and myself, and we had a good time.
The next morning, Easter Day, I was up very early, and by breakfast time the tent was a perfect bower of flowers. It was really lovely. And the surprise and pleasure of the boys! "Seems as though we was back home!" "I forgot all about its being Easter!" "Say, I never thought we could have Easter in France!" And one boy who kept hanging round all day taking it all in, said, "What'd you go to all that trouble for? It's no use doing that over here." Yet he was back every morning to watch me arrange the flowers, for I kept them always in the tent after that, and the little French children would bring me fresh ones.
On Easter morning an open air memorial service had been planned in honor of those in the Battalion who had been killed. The day was beautiful. The Battalion assembled in a beautiful little field on the outskirts of the town, the four companies drawn up facing each other. The choir, which I had drilled, composed of about twenty men, stood together. A platform had been built in the centre, from which Major S., always fine, gave a splendid short address. The chaplain then delivered a sermon, less impressive. The choir sang "Rock of Ages," which was quite solemnly beautiful. Next the roll was called, which was astonishingly long. It was a strain on those standing ranks of boys to hear the names of their dead comrades, and the tears were coursing down many cheeks. The choir sang "My Faith Looks Up To Thee." Taps were sounded, followed by a roll of drums. There was a moment of tense silence. Then to the relief of all, the little Battalion Band struck up a quickstep and the Companies marched off cheerily. It was truly a beautiful service, and the warm sun and birds warbling in the trees gave it an added sweetness. It meant a great deal to the men.
After the service I walked back to the tent with the Colonel and the Major, who came in and admired my decorations as much as I could wish. In the afternoon was a thrilling baseball game between our Battalion and the 1st Battalion of the 312th Infantry. (Baseball has been our great amusement of late.) I slipped away before it was over to get my kettle boiling, so that afterward I had hot chocolate and cakes for all the boys that wanted it; it never has to go begging. In the evening we gathered round the poor rheumatic piano and sang and sang till old Mathieu, the electrician, turned the lights off. Now doesn't that sound like a happy Easter?
Meanwhile preparations for moving were going on. All the stoves were taken from the billets and of course the weather turned cold and rainy again. We froze, and we waded in mud, but we didn't care; we were "going home."
The next big stunt I pulled off was a candy pull. It took me a day's journey in the side-car to get the ingredients, two whole crates of Karo corn syrup and ten pounds of margarine. Company F allowed me to use their kitchen which was next to the tent, and I found a professional candy-maker who superintended the cooking. What a time we had! Rain pouring outside, our merry little orchestra playing for all it was worth in the tent, tent packed with soldiers, I in my blue apron dashing back and forth from mess hall to tent with fresh batches of candy ready to be pulled, which was seized by eager and clean hands, pulled and twisted until it was white, and consumed in no time. I had had plenty of water heated and there was a tremendous scrubbing of big calloused hands when some fellow "guessed he'd have a try at it." We made more delicious candy than the battalion could eat, and sent it round to the officers. Altogether the evening was voted a hilarious success.
And the next day the Division began to entrain for Bordeaux. Not my Battalion, but other Infantry Regiments, the Machine Gunners and the Artillery. I left Pouillenay for three days and went to Epoisse, the entraining point, to help serve cocoa and cakes to the departing soldiers. The weather was abominable, a driving wet snow all the time and we had to stand in it for hours. "We" were four girls. It was a most exhausting business. I got back to Pouillenay rather the worse for wear, but I couldn't stop on my last day with my boys, and I was busy with a thousand things. I made fudge for my platoon and took it to their billet in the evening. The good old tent had been taken down in my absence and there was nothing left of the "Y". There in the dark billet of the 1st Platoon of F Co. I had my last good time with my boys. It was raining as usual. They received me with a cheer, and when they saw the fudge, the cheer grew louder. We got up a Virginia reel and how those boys swung me round! And when we were too hot to dance more, we sang, until we were hoarse. And then I had to go, for Lieut. J. of F Co. was giving a little party for the Major and I had promised to be there with my guitar.
That last night was an uproarious one in Pouillenay. The estaminets did their worst—it was their last chance at American francs—and way into the morning the streets resounded with drunken yells. I fear the majority were celebrating. I don't blame them. If the Y.M.C.A. had let us keep our tent we might have planned a counter-drive, but as it was, we could do nothing. That night, as I lay listening to the noise, I became aware of a new sound. I couldn't believe my ears—but yes, I had heard it once before in England—a nightingale! That piercing, passionate, ecstatic song! It rang out between the shouts of the revelers in the street below. How much more it seemed to say than those drunken voices of men! and yet all that it says is through the soul of man.
The day of departure dawned, warm and cloudy. I was to "hike" with my platoon over to Les Laumes, the entraining point, a distance of five kilometres. In my heart I knew that this was my last day with the battalion, though most of the boys expected me to go down to Bordeaux after them. But Y.M.C.A. headquarters had ordered me to stay three days at Les Laumes, serving cocoa. So we marched over. In an hour we were at the ugly little railroad town where the Engineers have been quartered all winter. I left the battalion to march off to their lunch, while I went down to the Y.M.C.A. to help the cocoa contingent. There I found the other girls working. Pretty soon the boys came in to get their last sweet, hot, "hand out" from the "Y," then I went with them to the station. There at the railroad gate I said goodbye. How I shook hands! Sometimes my voice would break as I talked, which made me furious with myself. They had all gone through the gate and a group of officers stood around me to say goodbye. "Well, Sis, how are you standing it?" said one. "She hasn't cried yet," said another. "Don't set me off," I begged. So Lieut. M. mercifully stuffed a cake into my mouth, which made us all laugh. These kind boys! Well, they had all passed through the train gate. I didn't follow them because I couldn't seem to get command of myself and I wouldn't send them off with anything but a smile. I went back to the "Y" hut. There I worked like fury, and talked and laughed with the men, and in half an hour I was all right again. The long train of freight cars loaded with my family was still standing at the station. I went out on the platform. A cheer came from every carful. I started at the engine and went down the line, stopping at every car. I threw myself into a rollicking mood and got them all to laughing. "But we'll see you in Bordeaux won't we, Miss Shortall?" came from all sides, and I would have to explain. When I got to the first platoon of F Co. Sergeant R. picked me up and put me in the car, and many were the half humorous, half serious threats of keeping me, and making me go with them. I certainly was tempted to do it. Major S. came along and found me there. How I hated to say goodbye to him, this kind friend whose attitude of respect, of comradeship, has typified that of the whole battalion toward me! He has been my great encourager through it all. The splendid morale of his men, as you must realize, has been largely due to his fine spirit which permeated the battalion.