The ruined town of Metzeral was the foremost point occupied by any of our litter squads at Mittlach. It was in the main valley to the south and east of Mittlach. The American trenches ran zig-zag through the town—along tumble-down walls, into old cellars and basements, through neglected gardens, and around the corner of the ruined church itself. One ducked instinctively as he passed some of the low places in the walls, for the German trenches were visible a few hundred yards away on the eastern slope of the valley.
The ambulance work at Mittlach and Larchey was done partly by the mule ambulances of Ambulance Company 140 and partly by the Fords of the S. S. U. outfit. From the various advance aid stations, the patients were transported by ambulance to a relay station called Treh, situated about five kilos back of Larchey. Lt. Hancock, of Ambulance Company 137 was in charge at Treh, having two motor and two mule drawn ambulances ready to receive and transport the patients back to the various Field Hospitals, which were located at Kruth and neighboring towns, well out of range of the German guns.
On the whole, the time spent in the Wesserling sector was a period of training for our company, and in fact for the whole Sanitary Train. We learned something about maps and trails, and especially that trails on maps and trails on mountain sides are two very different things. We learned also to respect our gas masks and helmets. They became our constant companions. Indeed, the sight of school children six and eight years old going through gas mask drill in the streets of Mittlach was enough to make anyone think about his gas mask. All the civilians there carried masks as they went about their daily work. We learned too, the value of camouflage along the sides of roads, and also the wisdom of keeping behind it. The litter bearers learned to handle patients in all sorts of tight places, and they did their work creditably. We saw a little example of German propaganda, also. On June 30th the Boche sent small balloons over our lines, and to the balloons they attached cards bearing the following message on both sides:
"Soldiers of the U. S. A.
As we hear from your comrades seized by us, your officers say that we kill prisoners of war or do them some other harm.
Don't be such Greenhorns!
How can you smart Americans believe such a silly thing?"
Needless to say, this sort of propaganda made no impression on the American troops.
We spent nearly a month in the Wesserling sector. At the end of that time, Ambulance Company 137 relieved us at Larchey, and Ambulance Company 140 at Mittlach. We were glad to move back across the boundary line into France and settle in the sleepy little village of Ventron, where we could hang up our gas masks and helmets, and almost forget there was a war.
VENTRON
Ventron, a typical French village, nestles in a peaceful valley. To the right of the town a broad green meadow stretches out, to be broken at the foot of the mountain by a small, sparkling stream of water. The crude stone houses, few in number, are built adjoining each other, forming irregular lines. A large, quaint, high-steepled church, one shop, several cafes and one hotel, probably patronized by tourists in summer, make up the town. The prevailing cleanliness of Ventron naturally impressed us. Without exception, it was the cleanest town in which we were billeted during our stay in France.
Needless to say, a sigh of satisfaction could be heard when word reached us to the effect that we would be billeted in barracks, instead of the usual hay mow. Having learned to adapt ourselves to the surroundings, most of us were by this time able to carry on a speaking conversation with all domestic animals, so this change to cleaner barracks somewhat elated us, for we would no doubt feel more like human beings.