Yesterday I got up at 11:30, a disgraceful hour, but it was warm in bed and it seemed good to be able to sleep without fear of bugles. Went to Streiffs’ where I seemed to be expected to spend the day. I did. It was the Fete des Rois – some kind of survival of a religious holiday. Part of the festivities includes the cutting of a piece of cake in which are two whole beans. Those who get the beans are the King and Queen, and each chooses his queen or king, so there are two royal pairs. Of course I got a bean, which I dropped into the wine glass of the woman next me to indicate that she was the queen of my choice. The sad part is that whoever draws the bean owes the crowd a bottle of champagne. I still owe it.
After considerable music and dancing, I got home at about 10:30 and just flopped into bed.
What are we doing now? We’re cleaning up. They haven’t finished taking pictures, you know. In the first place, there is the army of occupation, every division and corps of which has its photo unit. They are not sending in an awful lot, however, thank goodness. Then there is the old S.O.S. which means everything not in the fighting line, and which goes merrily on, war or no war. There seems to be no end of loose strands and odds and ends of things to be photographed all over. In addition, there is a unit appointed to cover the peace conference; it hasn’t taken a thing yet, but it points out that we’ll be here until that is over. Then every officer in the A.E.F. seems to feel that he is entitled to a personal collection of the photographs taken during the war, and we are obliged to fill their requests. So we have lots to do yet, none of which seems to be necessary.
Next post January 8.
Letters from Sidney Friend During The Great War 