DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds correspondence, June 1918 | 1918-06-04 Conger Reynolds to John & Emily Reynolds Page 3

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Conger Reynolds correspondence, June 1918

1918-06-04 Conger Reynolds to John & Emily Reynolds Page 3

3
not to run anybody down. Sidewalks are little known in small French towns and, if known, little used. We did manage to kill a chicken after successfully evading several hundred. You know the manure piles are always in the front yards on the main street and consequently the chickens are always there too.
We had not gone far when a tire blew out.  It happened conveniently near a hill on top of which we could see ruined buildings, and we decided to investigate.  Climbing up the hill, we came upon several scattered graves where soldiers had been buried evidently where the fell.  On top of the hill were some old farm buildings and dairy buildings very much broken and crumbled and now overgrown with the weeds of three -- almost four -- years since the shells of which we still found fragments played havoc there.  A priest had led a flock of children up to see the place. He herded them to one side and came over to speak to us.  On his black frock he wore the medaille militaire of the French army.  I asked him about it, and he told me how he had fought in the army during the first year of the war, been wounded and taken prisoner, and spent two years in a German prison camp. Last year he had been exchanged and had been able to come back to his little country church.  He was a fine quiet young fellow.  He told us that a "grande bataille" had been fought over the ground where we stood, and pointed out the way the Huns had come -- and later gone.  They are now several miles further northwest that that point is.
It was getting late as we drove on, so we decided to stop for diner in N--- which in spite of the effect of air raids is something of a city. We dined under the chestnut trees in a restaurant which I think I have described to you before as the place where I lunched one day.  I had the good luck to run across a fellow there who had been in my company at Snelling.  He was on his way to join his regiment at the front after having been at school.  Two villages farther on we had another puncture.  This time it was in front of a little café, from which came the sound of song.  We went in to investigate and found the place full of French soldiers.  It was really almost a story book experience that followed. I gave them all I had left of Ernest's cigarettes and the correspondents bought wine for them. (Please don't be horrified -- this was in France and French wine.)  To show their appreciation they then and there gave us a concert.  One soldier would get up and sing one of the pretty songs that the French soldiers favor and the whole room would join in on the chorus. Then another soldier would get up, and everybody would be silent while he sang.  We didn't get to stay long, not nearly as long as we should have liked to.  But we left the alliance stronger than before anyway.
A little further on we saw a rocket in the sky and stopped to watch a British bombing squadron go winging off toward Germany, with lights on the machines signalling as the went.  A few minutes later there came two machines from the opposite direction.  The motors sounded a little like Boches, so we shut off the lights and stopped in the shadow of a tree.  They flitted past without paying any attention to us.  Probably were not Boches anyway, but you never can be too sure.  That was the latest incident of the trip worth noting.
In our next we shall tell how the Prince of Mazuma lost his kingdom.  Selah!
With my best love.
Conger
Conger Reynolds
2nd Lt.,A. G. D.

Saving...

3 not to run anybody down. Sidewalks are little known in small French towns and, if known, little used. We did manage to kill a chicken after successfully evading several hundred. You know the manure piles are always in the front yards on the main street and consequently the chickens are always there too. We had not gone far when a tire blew out. It happened conveniently near a hill on top of which we could see ruined buildings, and we decided to investigate. Climbing up the hill, we came upon several scattered graves where soldiers had been buried evidently where the fell. On top of the hill were some old farm buildings and dairy buildings very much broken and crumbled and now overgrown with the weeds of three -- almost four -- years since the shells of which we still found fragments played havoc there. A priest had led a flock of children up to see the place. He herded them to one side and came over to speak to us. On his black frock he wore the medaille militaire of the French army. I asked him about it, and he told me how he had fought in the army during the first year of the war, been wounded and taken prisoner, and spent two years in a German prison camp. Last year he had been exchanged and had been able to come back to his little country church. He was a fine quiet young fellow. He told us that a "grande bataille" had been fought over the ground where we stood, and pointed out the way the Huns had come -- and later gone. They are now several miles further northwest that that point is. It was getting late as we drove on, so we decided to stop for diner in N--- which in spite of the effect of air raids is something of a city. We dined under the chestnut trees in a restaurant which I think I have described to you before as the place where I lunched one day. I had the good luck to run across a fellow there who had been in my company at Snelling. He was on his way to join his regiment at the front after having been at school. Two villages farther on we had another puncture. This time it was in front of a little café, from which came the sound of song. We went in to investigate and found the place full of French soldiers. It was really almost a story book experience that followed. I gave them all I had left of Ernest's cigarettes and the correspondents bought wine for them. (Please don't be horrified -- this was in France and French wine.) To show their appreciation they then and there gave us a concert. One soldier would get up and sing one of the pretty songs that the French soldiers favor and the whole room would join in on the chorus. Then another soldier would get up, and everybody would be silent while he sang. We didn't get to stay long, not nearly as long as we should have liked to. But we left the alliance stronger than before anyway. A little further on we saw a rocket in the sky and stopped to watch a British bombing squadron go winging off toward Germany, with lights on the machines signalling as the went. A few minutes later there came two machines from the opposite direction. The motors sounded a little like Boches, so we shut off the lights and stopped in the shadow of a tree. They flitted past without paying any attention to us. Probably were not Boches anyway, but you never can be too sure. That was the latest incident of the trip worth noting. In our next we shall tell how the Prince of Mazuma lost his kingdom. Selah! With my best love. Conger Conger Reynolds 2nd Lt.,A. G. D.