The World War I Diary of José de la Luz Sáenz

France

Sunday, June 23 L ast night’s difficulties left us drained and with headaches. The King Edward looked more disgusting during the day than at night. Fog enveloped us and we were unable to tell when we had reached the French coast. I realized this at 7:45 in the morning, when the ship had already docked. Once on deck, I could tell what was before us. We were in the French waters of the Napoleons and Victor Hugo. After offering a prayer to God for granting me the opportunity to see what I had dreamed since childhood, I felt a deep sense of fulfillment in my soul. We are here, in the middle of things. Reality is before us in bold form. We must meet our responsibility as more than an expression of our ideals, as a thorough accounting of ourselves to a world that has its eyes fixed on us. Long live the men of our raza in France, or may they die with honor. The unfolding panorama of natural beauty is new to us. The rising and radiant sun salutes France as its people make the supreme sacrifice to secure their freedom from the yoke of the usurper’s heavy boot. The sky is clear. Some old buildings are nearby. They are familiar because I have seen them in the old textbooks back home. We disembarked at one of the docks at nine. The arrival of troops is such a common sight in France that our appearance was met by the coolest of receptions imaginable. It was enough for us to give up or go into a rage. We were expecting some kind of appreciation from the people we came to help liberate from the affront, tyranny, and violence of a tyrant who has the nation in its clutches. We are also here to pay a debt that some of our countrymen previously incurred, but this does not justify the lack of courtesy or appreciation . This does not mean we overlook other reasons for this situation. One explanation could be the unfortunate suffering caused by the war, which we will also feel very soon. We can see and understand this suffering. They have France 139 My Personal Diary 140 lost many men. Few homes have escaped losing someone in the Great War. That explains the sad and cold reception in England as well as in France. But I ask myself again, is this reason enough for the utter lack of sympathy toward us when we are here to make their cause our own? Or maybe it is none of this. They may be thinking we are acting in our own self-interest? Whatever the case, the very decision to join their side should be enough to expect a sign of friendship. There is more. Based on what I discovered from my conversations with the soldiers, people from England seem to be deeply jealous and distrustful of the Yankee soldier. They find themselves down, and we, the “tin soldiers,” are their only hope; however, they remain very self-centered. They cannot reject us because they would be committing suicide or murder at the hands of the Germans who are hunting them down. They also fear that if the Allies win, the army from the new world will be credited with the victory. The truth of the matter is that envy has overtaken the hearts of the crusaders like in the past. Since disembarking, we have come to feel the unusual circumstance that will surround us while in Europe. Let us prepare for this too. Typical French scenes flashed before us. Very close to the dock, on both sides of the street, we see the posts of the French sentries. We also witness soldiers in heated conversations everywhere. The streets of Le Havre, which is the name of the port where we landed, are constructed with pieces of lumber like in early America. We walked across several streets and plazas and some people greeted us. A number of children begged for “sous,” or cents. A child of about ten years of age who appeared to be well educated did not ask for “sous” and even seemed embarrassed that his friends would beg. The child approached us and after shaking our hands gave us some beautiful wild pansies from the bouquet he was carrying. I saved mine between the pages of the diary I am writing and will keep them as a reminder of the unknown child. I will learn...