XX
AMERICANS MUST LEARN THE GAME
THE French are not, by nature and training, an athletic nation. One Sunday afternoon an athletic meet was organized by the Y. M. at a certain camp in the American line, where we have been living for a week. The athletic director, wishing to promote international relations, went over to the French chasseurs, who were billeted in the same village, and asked the officers in charge if they would not send over men to participate in the games. A council of war ensued and finally the major in command, sending for a sergeant, ordered him to detail a dozen men to go over to the contest. Twelve chasseurs were duly called out, drawn up at attention and gravely marched away to the American camp. They went with the same look on their faces with which they would go to clean up an area, to dig ditches, or perform any other fatigue duty. Arrived on the field, they stood gravely at attention and awaited directions. When a certain event was about to be pulled off, the sergeant would indicate a man to participate; and the chasseur would step out of line and "go to it."
Of course the American lads ran away, or jumped away, or hurled the shot away, from their French comrades. At last, however, the poilus caught the infectious merriment and before the afternoon was over they were laughing, shouting and sharing in the fun in a fashion to do your heart good.
Last event of all was a tug of war. The whole round dozen of Frenchmen, or the whole dozen of round Frenchmen, were ranged in line against a dozen lanky Sammies. The bit of white cloth fastened to the rope that ran along between the two groups, representing two nations, was exactly over a chalk line boundary between the United States and La Belle France. A pistol shot, in the language of the detective stories, rang out upon the still Sabbath air. Then the Americans organized spontaneously a series of undulating jerks like those a terrier perpetrates, when he has his teeth firmly in a bit of cord or cloth that his youthful master holds in hand; and French chasseurs advanced with a rapidity that even Hill 304 had never witnessed. It was a case in which the winning army went backwards, and the losing forwards. It was a battle, too, punctuated by shouts and laughter, in place of curses and bursting shells.
It was everybody's regret that Jack was unable to be present and show his paces. The race in which he has stood ready to run anybody in the British army, and now the American or French armies, and for which he purchased a track suit and running shoes, and devised an emblem of the Chicago Athletic Club, has never yet been run. Either the soldiers have always been too busy, or we ourselves have been sent away to sing and talk for other groups, so that the event could not be staged. There is no loafing on the job on this side of the water. Most men, even past military age, in England and France, are too much occupied with war work, even to play golf, croquet, tennis or so much as cards. The games are played only by soldiers in rare moments of relaxation.
if the French do not excel in athletics, they nevertheless admire any who do. One day a certain captain of ours was arranging quarters for our men in a certain village. He was the first American soldier ever seen there; and a crowd followed him about. He was shown into a stable with a hay loft. The steps up to the mow were dilapidated and some were missing. There were certain poles projecting from the walls, however, and the slim young fellow swung himself up hand over hand, from one to another. The peasants broke out into cheering at the feat.
First place of all for a billeting party to be taken is the schoolhouse, as there is always space for from thirty to fifty men here. When our captain entered the village school the children sprang up, began cheering for America, and mounted seats and desks in their enthusiasm for their new ally.
This same captain was driving with a French general officer along a country road, when a little boy lying by the roadside threw a handful of gravel at the car. The missiles took good effect; and the general was furious. He stopped his car, although it took nearly half a kilometer to do it, went back, and calling the lad's mother, who was now on the scene, lectured her and the boy roundly, telling her that this young officer with him represented the Great American Republic, and the newest ally; and discourtesy had been offered not merely to the men, but to Le Grand Nation. He would not leave until the first lesson in international amenity had been administered warmly to the base of the young scion of France; a lesson that doubtless he will never forget, but hand on to future generations with keen remembrance and appreciation, beside the cotter's fire of winter nights in the middle years of the Twentieth Century.
The French soldiers take kindly to association football and every evening after their day's work you may see them, red-faced and perspiring, mingle with our own lads on the field kicking and chasing the pigskin oval. They become quite expert, too, with practice, though I do not believe they have quite the athletic instinct of the immediate sons of pioneers. In bombing and trench crawling and such exercises, our men learn with singular rapidity to outdo their instructors. At first the French soldiery were mingled with our men, company for company, and man for man. The French would go through a certain performance, then our men would follow; and each American would possess a French, critic, guide, philosopher and friend. In two or three days it became evident that so many instructors were not needed; and now there are only a few French officers left with each unit.
Bomb throwing comes handy to old baseball players. It is done with a different motion than ball throwing, to be sure; it is indeed a stiff-armed side stroke like the English cricket bowling. Nevertheless our men are quick and adaptable and soon master it. This peculiar stroke is necessary to avoid striking the back of the narrow trench. As the practice goes on with real bombs it is not altogether harmless child's play. One day an American boy struck the parados, or rear of the trench, in his back swing and as a result is now on his way to America minus a hand. Also a Frenchman on our practice grounds dropped one on the floor of the trench, and instead of picking it up quickly and tossing it before its five seconds' fuse had time to spark, he lost his head and put his foot on it. He was killed.
The men are stripped to the waist and taught to crawl on hands and knees, and to wriggle along on their stomachs on the surface or in shallow trenches. They also practice carrying each other on their backs while in this cramped position; sometimes two will carry a very heavy man between them. At all of this kind of business our men are very apt and soon surpass their French instructors.
Do not believe, however, that the little American force has grasped, as yet, these new methods of warfare, or is anything like prepared to take its share. The grim general in charge is determined they shall not go into the mill and shoulder their load until they are prepared in all points; first line, supporting line, third line, supply communications stretching clear back to America unbroken, artillery of our own and not somebody else's, and air fleets manned by Americans and under American command. This is not a matter of national egotism, but a matter of safety for the lives of men. An immense amount is necessary for us both to do and to learn before that time comes. This warfare is of a type new to us, and we must study it from the ground up. Furthermore, just as it takes fifteen men to care for and to fly one airplane, so it takes a vast number of people to man a fighting line, more for us than for anybody else, because our communications are so much longer. Every individual in our nation will be necessary before we get through.
I am informed upon the best authority that we have two regiments now at one of the allied fronts and that they are so ill-equipped as to be compelled to borrow shoes, socks, clothing and such necessary supplies from their neighbors. If that is the case in the height of summer, what is to be expected when the winter comes on, in the way of trench feet, pneumonia and the like? Unless we can organize a supply system that will adequately clothe and furnish our men, we shall pay the price not merely in sickness, but in death. Our men may be athletic and adaptable, but they are not immortal.
A heavy per cent of these boys are raw recruits, outside of the marines. Their marching in the streets of London and Paris, while the populace huzzaed and welcomed them with kindly enthusiasm, was not such as to fill American military men with overweening pride. I have talked with their leaders and I know how they felt. The American press had heralded these men as regulars, as fine a fighting force as there was in the world. Instead came recent volunteers mixed with regulars to challenge comparison with the finest troops this world ever saw. We, who were there, could not but think of that small army of British regulars a little over sixty thousand strong, which began the war in that wonderful retreat from Belgium, and left all but about eight thousand scattered along the way.
We are not "stuck up" over our own first showing. We have got to retrieve that loss of prestige, not by more boasting about 100,000 airplanes that we say we are going to build and cannot build, nor even fifty thousand, nor twenty-five thousand; but by patient enlisting, equipping and drilling of an army, while we keep our mouths grimly shut and do, instead of talk.
Meantime, there come to us stories over here of rich men in America exempted because they have married a wife and needs must support her, of famous golf players, who think they can better serve their country, civilization and God by playing gallery play for the beflanneled men and beribonned women who are posing as devoted Red Crossers. Talk about "muddied oafs at the goal!" Only two men out of ten who are called to the colors in New York, we hear, sign up and take the oath! Thank God, the Middle West, the much doubted Middle West, is doing far better than that! I have read somewhere in history of a man "who married a wife and therefore could not come." For him the heads of no gates will be lifted up!
Pardon for breaking into exhortation and a measure of denunciation. If all America could see that little group of children at a French port it would have its effect. Our boys had just left the transports. They were in the hastily improvised Y. M. C. A. hut. They had a wheezy little melodeon and were squeezing out the Marseillaise—most glorious of songs. Some little school children wandered in, fingers in mouths. The boys put them up on a table and commanded them to sing. The little people, woefully embarrassed, tried to comply; but fingers and thumbs blocked the song. By and by they caught the infection from the little melodeon, the song began to come, to gather headway. Then the screechy little organ played out; but that made no difference now, the children's heads were up, their mouths open, and their voices rang clear and strong as the immortal Marseillaise held the Americans hushed in its grasp.
Another time I heard it sung. The singer was a dashing young chasseur in an American hut. The piano was going and hundreds of Sammies were milling about. Soon the player drifted into the French national song. Immediately the young "blue devil" sprang to attention; his hand went to his forehead in salute, and he stood like a statue as long as the music lasted. It would be well for us to learn this national reverence for our national songs. Then he leaped upon a table, cap in hand, and began to sing; the lad at the piano came on with the accompaniment; I never saw a more graceful, handsome, inspiring figure than this young dare-devil who had been through many a battle and carried the wound stripe on his arm. May he live to fight for France until this war is done, his country free from the invader and the world made a safe place for democracy!
The situation is not all depressing for America, her prestige, her influence and her future effect. Marshals of France could not be met with greater respect and affection than our ambulance drivers during a big push, where they have taken the worst of shell fire with the utmost coolness. These boys are somewhat disgruntled at the taking over of their corps by the government. It was a necessary measure, no doubt; but they feel that they should be entitled to something better than a private's rank. They are, many of them, college lads, some millionaires, some of them very strong, mature and unusual men. Some are going into aviation, some into artillery schools and some into other units. I met one who had come over on the ship with us, a man of thirty, who formerly lived in Kansas City. He told me he had decided for the Foreign Legion.
I know a surgeon—he also came over on our ship—who is now in charge of the surgical ward of a big French hospital up near the front. I met him one day in Paris, and we sat for an hour in the Cafe de la Paix and talked it all over. America was about to expend a quarter of a million dollars at that hospital; but transportation was the problem. The money could not go in there, unless this problem could be solved. The surgeon said nothing about the intentions of his government, but set about solving the problem. He saw a river close by. He conceived the plan of finding a steamer and somebody to run it. He came to Paris, made the search, found the boat and an old skipper and was going back rejoicing on the morrow. The money will go in.
I fear this chapter will sound to many discouraging. I do not wish it to. If it simply faces us with the cold facts, and leads us to arise and arouse, there is no people on the face of earth whose inventiveness and boundless energy can do more and will do more. After all, our men are very square bodied, big boned, trimly clad fellows. There are no bulging pockets in the skirts of their tunics, as there are in so many others over here. Their jacket collars may not be comfortable, tight up about their necks; but they give a certain neatness and soldierly air. As raw material one may admire them most heartily and be justly proud of them; but one has to remember, and nobody knows it better than their general, that they are still raw material with their job to learn. He will not be hurried, either, into throwing their lives away before they have learned.
None of our enlisted men have thus far been allowed leave to go to Paris. They are very anxious for such opportunity. I was able to cheer them one day with the information that leave would be granted them as soon as the Y. M. C. A. was ready to open its Paris hotels. Such hotels have been secured and are in process of renovation. Another interesting order is one issued by General Pershing. It is especially so, in view of the fact that some of the army chaplains have been inclined to fight the Y. M. The order reads that the Red Cross is to have charge of all relief measures, the Y. M. C. A. of all social and religious matters and chaplains will render all assistance in their power.