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CHAPTER Homeward 18Bound Heavy Snow—Hôtel Porta Nigra—Waffles and Syrup—Back in Beastly Germany—Chamberlaine’s Story—Shake-ups in the Brigade—Big News—Trip to Italy—Demonstration against Wilson—What about George Washington?—C’est Fini. Saturday—March 29th We left Verdun in a heavy snow and, passing through Étain and Luxemburg , arrived at the Porta Nigra Hôtel at Trèves. Parker, who was in the car with me, went on to Coblenz by train. My limousine had broken down, and I had had to leave it at Verdun to be repaired and was traveling in an open Cadillac, which under the circumstances was not particularly comfortable . We arrived at Trèves in time for dinner, and Wurtz and I afterwards went to a Red Cross dance. As it was a fancy dress affair and I had no costume , I took off my stars and went as a second lieutenant. I had a good time. Sunday—March 30th It is snowing hard again, but after having Sunday morning breakfast consisting of hot waffles, syrup, and cocoa, with Mrs. Walker in charge of the Y.M.C.A. Tea Room, we started back to Höhr. We had rather an uneventful trip and arrived at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Monday—March 31st Back in beastly Germany once more. We arrived in a blinding snow storm, and the Rhine look[ed] very much as it did when we first came last December . Still, it is good to be in my own house once more even if it is in Germany . The mess is running along just the same as ever. Major Perceful has kept it going and has taken in Mrs. Stevens and Miss Walker. It must not cause surprise that two unattached females should share a billet with a person of the opposite sex. The ordinary conventions of polite society 148 Caissons Go Rolling Along could not always be observed in the A.E.F., and it sometimes happened that ladies occupied the same billets with gentlemen. My friend, General Chamberlaine, told me of an experience in this line. Chamberlaine’s Story The women of the war—the welfare workers, the nurses, the ambulance drivers, and others, of all nations—moved about by hitch-hiking. That is, if they got a few hours pass, or a few days leave, they stood out on the big road (Fr. grande route) and waved a car or a truck going their way. One night quite late, Chamberlaine overtook a woman walking along on a desolate part of the road, north of Dijon. He stopped to give her a lift. He found, however, that at the next turn she was going in quite a different direction from his, and as she was more than fifty miles from her destination, and no prospect in sight, it was decided that she should go on with him to his P.C. and that he would start her off again in the right direction next morning. Well, it was the conventional story of the man who rescues a maid and puts her to sleep in his bed, while he takes the mat in front of her door. Chamberlaine described the lady as very beautiful, said she had created a hallowed atmosphere about his battle-scarred P.C., and that her aura remained after she had gone. Some years later, I was dining at the American Legation at Peking.1 Among those present was Roy Chapman Andrews, just returned from the Gobi Desert with his dinosaur eggs.2 My dinner partner was the wife of a famous author and a writer of some note herself.3 Learning that I was in the army, she said, “I wonder if you know my friend Billy Chamberlaine—General Chamberlaine.” “Why yes! I know him intimately. How well do you know him?” “Well, I have slept in his bed!” “You . . . have slept . . . in . . . his . . . bed?” I was talking slowly but thinking fast. Then I got a flash. “Were you the woman?” “Yes, I was the woman.” After a pause, “Did you ever go back to get your aura?” “My aura?” “Yes, Chamberlaine said you left your aura at his P.C.” “That part of the story is not true.” Emma Emma, true to form in Germany, objected to having mere women occupy the master’s bedroom. And at each new notice of my expected arrival, she notified Mrs. Stevens and Miss Waller to move out...

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