DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds correspondence, August 1918 | 1918-08-25 Conger Reynolds to Daphne Reynolds Page 2

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Conger Reynolds correspondence, August 1918

1918-08-25 Conger Reynolds to Daphne Reynolds Page 2

sharply from the tracks.  When, on looking out the other side of the train I spied a path leading up through the brush I knew what I was going to do.  Up I went, stopping every step or two to look at the scene below or the wild flowers at my feet.  Halfway up I found a soft looking spot in the stubble and sat down to absorb the out-of-doors.  I hadn't realized before how much I have missed the fields and the sunshine this summer, being caged much of the time in the office.  Directly below were the irregular, tiled roofs of the village and, closer, the train and the tracks and a row of pup tents under the trees where an ambulance unit was bivoucked.  Beyond stretched the open fields gently rising to met the sky on a ridge in the distance.  On the right was a wood already showing tinges of autumn color, and below it the glaring white of a winding highway.  The calm upon all things permitted me to hear the clacking of a typewriter from one of those pup tents and the strains of a band piece played on a Victrola in another.  Then the old bells in the village chimed musically and rang the noon hour.  There came a dull roar and a swish, and I saw an automobile swish along the road out of the town.  Then came faintly the drone of a motor regular and resonant in the tune that I have learned as being the song of the aeroplane.  For a long time I searched the sky for it in vain. Then I suddenly could see a black speck in the distance.

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sharply from the tracks. When, on looking out the other side of the train I spied a path leading up through the brush I knew what I was going to do. Up I went, stopping every step or two to look at the scene below or the wild flowers at my feet. Halfway up I found a soft looking spot in the stubble and sat down to absorb the out-of-doors. I hadn't realized before how much I have missed the fields and the sunshine this summer, being caged much of the time in the office. Directly below were the irregular, tiled roofs of the village and, closer, the train and the tracks and a row of pup tents under the trees where an ambulance unit was bivoucked. Beyond stretched the open fields gently rising to met the sky on a ridge in the distance. On the right was a wood already showing tinges of autumn color, and below it the glaring white of a winding highway. The calm upon all things permitted me to hear the clacking of a typewriter from one of those pup tents and the strains of a band piece played on a Victrola in another. Then the old bells in the village chimed musically and rang the noon hour. There came a dull roar and a swish, and I saw an automobile swish along the road out of the town. Then came faintly the drone of a motor regular and resonant in the tune that I have learned as being the song of the aeroplane. For a long time I searched the sky for it in vain. Then I suddenly could see a black speck in the distance.