Cold, sunny and not at all the day to stay indoors. I’ve just had a long walk and am now fit for a good day’s work. I’m really working now, you know, trying to clean up this stuff that’s on hand, so I can get out and away.
This morning I went over to the old French fort here on an interpreting job. There is a big tournament in the A.E.F. in May and we want to send a pistol team. They want us to use the French pistol range and I went over to get permission and dope. Spent all morning at it out in the sunshine. Then at noon I walked all the way around the fort after lunch. This weather makes me long for the states. What good is sunshine when you’re over here. But it does do a little toward making me a bit more content with France. It is hard to feel anything but resentment for a country that treats you to a mess of rainy weather for months at a time.
Another of our boys got married yesterday. He is the second in about three weeks. He is an ex-boy, for he joined the Red Cross and goes around now in a Red Cross officer’s uniform. He is a very fine fellow, named George Marshal. The girl is the daughter of the man who owns the café across the street from Mme. Jeanne’s. It is a café equally popular with the photofolks, but not patronized so largely for the purpose of eating as it is for drinking. Any day one could see Germaine Minet behind the counter – it isn’t a bar in this country, and there is no stigma attached – pretty and smiling. She is really very nice but it reminds of the refrain, “Only a bar-tender’s daughter.”
No Pershing today. He has probably forgotten us. I hope so. I don’t want to have to stand up and listen to him say platitudes when I want him to say when we are going home. I’m always afraid of over-praised persons. They’re likely to be over-rated.
No peace either. Wish they could come to some agreement soon. Then we’d be sure of getting back.
Time to go out for supper now. — Just had a bath. It’s quite a function here. Around the corner and up the rue de Montreuil 2 blocks. You go in at a tiled door through a large courtyard containing umbrella-shaped shrubs. Then into a rear building with a counter and a waiting room. At the counter they have pink soap and green scent. Also tickets. I paid three francs and got two green tickets, and a lead tag which I gave up immediately to a rather pretty girl. She gave me two towels (I had my own soap) and led me down a long corridor of little bathrooms. At the end she opened a door into a white tiled room about six feet square. I can’t remember how often I’ve been to this place and had one of these rooms, nor can I recall that there ever has been the slightest difference in them.
An enameled nickel tub occupies one side. Beside it is a little square of wood to stand on and another little square of red carpet. There are two chairs, a small mirror, a marble shelf and two clothes-hooks. Hot and cold running water, complete the installation. I had a sulphur bath and it was tres bon. You always fear that the girl isn’t going to get out of the room in time. She starts the water and stays to turn it off, if you let her. But I don’t.
Next post April 6.
Letters from Sidney Friend During The Great War 