"NO ONE WILL KICK IF BOCHE CAN BE KEPT ON THE MOVE"

I'm not just sure when I wrote you last, but I've a sort of an idea it was about two weeks ago, while in the hospital, so--going on that supposition--I'll carry on.

I got back to where the assistant regimental adjutant was (somewhat behind the lines) after travelling over most of France, and spending a day each at Nancy and Paris. Then I found out that the Regiment was up at the front again, after only about three days of rest. So I started off after them; and finally, after riding all day on food transports, etc., got back to my company. They were camped on the reverse slope of a hill near the Vesle, in a regular inferno of noise, for there were batteries and batteries of guns on all sides as well as above and below, which kept the skies illuminated at night and the air crashing at all times.

Germans Quieter Than Before.

The next night we moved up to the river, relieving one of our battalions, which had been pretty badly smashed up,--and there we stayed for about three days, when we were relieved by the French and came back here. At present we are occupying some of the towns which were held by our regiment during the Germans' July offensive--but they're more quiet now than then, I assure you. Save for our presence and that of a few civilians who have come back to take up the sorry task of rebuilding and rehabilitating--yes, and save for an occasional air raid--we might as well be in some old stone quarry, camping by piles of scrap rock.

Of all the sad sights which one must witness over here, I think to see the poor, bent, old civilians coming back to their reconquered homes, coming back to pick about among the ruins, gathering up the remnants of their possessions and trying to bring some sort of order out of great chaos, to make some sort of a home out of great devastation, to find, some kind of living in a land destroyed,--working bravely, looking cheerfully at a scene which would cause the stoutest to falter, and then pitching in--that I think is one of the saddest sights of all.

Business Resumed Amid Ruins.

"I went through J--the other day--and D--. Both towns were very heavily bombarded, both by the Germans, the French, and Americans--whole blocks, of houses are laid flat, with no stone on top of another--unless perchance the under stone may sometimes be above. And in those towns, in shells of houses, windows and often whole walls missing, roofs gone or rent and torn, the civilians were coming back. I saw stores being reopened, houses being set up, debris cleared away. I saw a meat market starting again, the people passing in and out through a hole in the wall, the whole corner of the building having been sheared off. I saw a clothing store again in operation--in what appeared to be a booth, the whole front of the place having been blown out--oh, it's pitiful to see the way these poor people come back--pitiful and yet almighty inspiring.

Bridges Rebuilt After Germans.

To pass from here, on the Marne, to the present front on the Vesle, is a mighty interesting trip. I've been over that twice now, both times by daylight, so I had a good chance to observe. In many of the towns things are being cleared up by the returning civilian and French engineer units, roads put back in shape, bridges being rebuilt, etc., so that they are less depressing in appearance than a town is when first taken back--after German habitation and allied bombardment. The country roads, too, are now in good shape, but everywhere there are signs of recent battle.

The dead, of course, are all now buried, save perhaps a few horses hidden in woods or hollows, but advertising their presence in a most "impossible to be ignored" manner. The roads are lined with dumps of material--shells, grenades, rifle and machine gun amunition, discarded rifles, helmets--everything, in fact, one sees along those roads, though of course it is being rapidly collected by the salvage departments, sorted and sent back to salvage depot for repair, renovation, and reissue--for a use is found for almost everything, no matter how badly smashed and broken it may be.

Then there are, scattered along the roads, in the fields and woods, the inevitable graves--sometimes singly or in twos or threes--and again, as when a number of men have fallen before some village strong point--in little cemeteries--graves of Germans as well as French and Americans. And the saddest graves are those which bear some such inscription as "5 Unknown French soldiers, fallen gloriously for their country."

Men in Trenches Like Beasts.

Up front it's even worse, for there there is often no chance to straighten things out--and material lies scattered everywhere, dead horses lie along the roads, often still harnessed to the wagons or caissons they were drawing away, and, worse yet, men, too, sometimes lie unburied for several days. But there is no time, often, for any other course. One fights until he is weary beyond words. He digs trenches and mans them; he carries back the wounded; he breathes poisoned gas and utters more poisonous oaths; he sleeps on and in the ground like a beast; eats what and when he can (and often he eats not at all); and always he watches and works and fights. But this is the war of movement--semi-open warfare--and the comforts of the trenches are unknown quantities, for to secure comforts requires time, and there has been no time to spare on such things in this sector--not since July 15. But if the Boche can be kept on the move, now they're started back, no one will kick about the rest of it, I'm sure.

Fighting Boche Hard Work.

Well, enough for now--lest I weary you too much. I think we're going to get a rest for a spell now--after 2 1-2 months of constant jumping. Certainly we need it, as well as the chance to drill our replacements which a trip to rest billets would give, for we've quite a good many new men now--filling the gaps left in our ranks; for since June 1st this regiment has suffered some pretty severe losses--and I believe they're the smallest of any regiment in the division. Yet, as a regiment, we've done ourselves proud--received the Croix de Guerre; slaughtered huge numbers of Boche; stopped their attack across the Marne on the river bank, and only fell back to our second line after 14 1-2 hours fighting, and when surrounded on three sides, due to retirement of troops to our flanks: held our positions from July 15 to 20, then retook what we'd lost, as far as the Marne which we crossed on the 22nd, pushing on about five miles in one day, then held for another day, waiting for the French on our right to catch up; then back to support for a few days; and back into it again on the Vesle for 10 days more. Yes, I think that's a pretty good record for a regiment not thirteen months old, and in their first fight, too--a pretty good record and one we're all proud of, too. But I mustn't blow our horn too loud--you'll think the old fighting 38th is patting itself on the back too strong.

As I wrote last time my wound was but a scratch and has now been all healed up for some time. I got some gas up my nose this last time which makes me wheeze, when I walk, like an old accordion and also raised a few blisters on my face, neck and chest--but fortunately did not get into my eyes very much or hit me hard enough to make much trouble, unless I over-exert.

I'm sticking with the company as we've only three officers left and they need me here, and since we're resting I'm getting cured rapidly.

P. S.--Our first fight--if you're interested--was about six or seven miles east of Chateau-Thierry. Our advance across the Marne was from the same place. The last one about one-half mile east of F---