Brest
On Wednesday at 8:05 our train pulled out of the Gare Montparnasse, and on Thursday at 8:20 (A.M. this time) it pulled into the Gare at Brest. Just like coming home – I know this town so well. It is mean and picturesque. The people still look Irish enough to make me long for New York. Do you remember my telling you about a year ago how Gaelic they seemed?
The trip down was comfortable. We came to a camp of corrugated iron buildings in what was a sort of Salvage Dump a year ago. It is in a gully formed by the ancient fortifications of this town. Now it houses a lot of soldiers and is important enough to have its own Y. It is called Cap Port Foy. It is on a step high hill between the harbor and the town.
Do you remember how I camped on a hill last year at Brest, guarding the baggage? That is when I slept in a shelter tent between Smithy and Ernie, and also when I met Gaby who lives in Joinville. Our camp in the gully is not more than fifty yards from the spot.
Yesterday I paid a visit to the spot where I slept in that shelter tent between those two giants. The grass is gone. In its place is a flock of more corrugated iron barracks – another camp. Then I made pilgrimage to another shrine – the pump where we drew water. I looked for the old man who, last year, wanted me to do him a sign “AMERICAN LAUNDRY.” He was not there, nor was the sign apparent; but an abundance of government issue clothing drying in the sun bore evidence of the fruitfulness or his commercial foresight. Perhaps the year has brought him a name that transcended the blaze of the sign he wanted.
Camp Pontanezen shall know me not. As you know, Napoleon is credited with the responsibility for it. He may have the credit – also the camp. I’ll not even visit it.
Brest is more interesting now than ever before. Permanent and transient troops to the number of 100,000 live in and around it all the time. There are also a few thousand sailors. It is fuller of Americans than anything else I ever saw.
Only one transport has left since we came. It bore the 4th convoy, which left the lab about 5 days before us. The George Washington and several battleships lie in the harbor, but it is said that they are waiting for the President. One big boat came in Friday and will probably leave Wednesday – the Mount Vernon. The Leviathan, Imperator, Troy, Kaiserin Auguste Victoria and others are due this week. This morning the 5th Photo Convoy came here.
The Major has been ordered to Washington and will come here this week, on his way there. The fellows who came in today tell us that the signs of an immediate break-up multiply daily.
There is little doubt that our convoy will board ship this week. June 5th is the most popular date at the present writing. That means we might sail about Saturday.
Tomorrow we are going to be paid in American money. Finis francs. Though I should mention that it will be ten dollars short for me because the lab. court-martialled me about a week before I got on this convoy, for not going to formations. However I still continue to sleep late. As I said before, they got a mighty poor soldier when they reached out for me.
In this camp there is nothing at all to do. Never a bugle or formation, even for meals. They even have a sergeant to keep the barracks clean. What a treat for some of the privates, to lie on their backs and watch the sergeant in charge of quarters weep the floor. No one cares whether you sleep all day, or not. It’s ideal for me. So far I’ve read a history of Art, and O. Henry’s “Cabbages and Kings.”
Next post June 13.
Letters from Sidney Friend During The Great War 