“The captain had ’em blow the bugle to call everybody, ’cept the gunners and crew, to the life-boats. ’Bout the time that the racket started Samson and me was just gettin’ away with a big pan full of bread-puddin’ that the chinks and Japs had made for their own dinner. I heard ’em yellin’, ‘Submarine, submarine!’ But hell, I didn’t want to lose that puddin’, not after gettin’ away so clean, so Samson and I ran down the ladder that goes from the smokestack room down to the hold and hid the stuff. When I got upstairs—I mean on deck again—the bow-gun crew had a gun trained on the German and banged away once or twice. Some of the fellows swear that they saw the wake of a torpedo ’way behind us as if the Boche had fell short by a good many yards. But guess they was seein’ things.
“That was the last fun we had until we hit the harbor of Brest after bein’ at sea twenty-three days. A Frenchman pilot got on aboard. Believe me it was a hell of a funny thing—he couldn’t speak a word of English and none of the officers could say a line of French. In them days I was just as bad as the officers as I couldn’t even say good mornin’ or ask for a drink of water in the Frog stuff. They got a buck private by the name of St. Gabriel or somethin’ like that who was a French Canuck to parley for them. That was one day that the privates had the officers at parade rest. Gabriel was the only man that knew what was up beside the pilot, and they had each other bluffed I believe. Well, buddy, that’s how I got to this sunny France business. Sunny! We ain’t had two whole clear days since we hit the country.” Jimmy McGee started running his hand under his shirt and scratched away in a professional manner.
CHAPTER IV—“SUNNY FRANCE!”
“You sure had a tough time getting here, Jimmy, compared to me. I came over on an old ocean liner. We had good clean bunks and three settings at table. There were regular bill o’ fares and live waiters. Only took eight days to come over. What was your first impression of France and where did you land at Brest?” O. D.’s brown eyes didn’t show a bit of sleepiness and his ears were cocked for every word that Jimmy McGee was willing to spill.
“Hell, no—not at Brest, that must have been a good town in them days. There was a rule made at the beginning of the war not to give this division anything good. We stayed in Brest that night and started for St. Nazaire toot sweet the next day. God help anybody, even the M. P.’s who had to fight the guerre in St. Nazaire. That town is the first place the Lord made and He forgot about it ten minutes after putting it up. It’s worse than the town old Bill Blodgett comes from.
“Well, we got in the harbor there ’bout two o’clock. It was kinda foggy and rainin’ off and on. ’Ain’t quit since then. Still they call it ‘Sunny France.’ After a lot of waitin’ around they shoved us in the canal locks, and I’m a liar if we didn’t go right through the middle of the town. Some of the houses on both sides of the locks looked like twins or else as if they had been pushed apart so as the canal could run through the town.
“Guess the first impression I got was that the Americans was still a new play toy for the French, ’cause there was a gang of kids and people runnin’ up and down the docks shoutin’ and wavin’ to us. Then I began to notice the buildings—whew! They looked old enough to be great-grandfathers to some of those four-hundred-year-old houses down in St. Augustine, Florida. Most of ’em had Café or Van Rouge written all over them. I never saw so many cafés in all my life. Course the French people looked funny as hell to us. Some were all dolled up in fine clothes and others looked as if they would catch cold for want of somethin’ to cover them. There was more soldiers walkin’ up and down on the piers than we had in the whole American army at that time. I thought we must be pretty near the front as there was so many. Some of the Frenchmen wore helmets. That’s about all that most of the Frogs have got left now. Never saw so many widows in all my days. Most of the women who was dressed up at all wore black and long veils. They made me think ’bout the war, and I felt kinda good ’cause there wasn’t any woman to wear black in case I got knocked off at the front.
“Some Americans, who acted as though they had just bought the town and could end the war with a snap of their fingers, came down to the edge of the locks and began shootin’ the bull. Most of the Americans wanted to know how the football games were coming off in the States. We told them we didn’t know as they hadn’t started good when we left. I had to explain to one guy that we didn’t come over on an express and that it took nearly a month to get here. He began tellin’ me where we could get our money changed and where the best champagne was and how to do things in general while in France. I asked him if he had been to the front yet and he said, ‘Oh no, I’m a receivin’-clerk, with the grade of corporal.’ ‘The hell you are! I thought you had been up endin’ the war,’ says I. But he didn’t seem to get my meanin’.
“They kept us on that boat two days. Durin’ that time some little French kids who could parley a little English rowed out in a tub and sold us beaucoup van rouge and cognac. About half of the ship got zig-zag toot sweet. I thought they’d put us in irons.
“Finally we got marched ashore and through the town to our barracks. Some barracks for a white man I’ll say. No bunks. No floor. No stoves. Nothing but a roof and the ground. It comes easy now to cushay on a bag of ten-penny nails, but in them days sleepin’ on the cold bumpy ground was just as bad as missin’ your weekly Saturday bath in the States.