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Saturday, November 23 T he letter C is embroidered in all the clothing we found in the boxes. This is the same initial I found in all the books. All this must belong to F. Cordonier, a teacher from Mont. We were paid after breakfast and were as happy as if we had been made governors of a deserted island. I imagined this because the only settlements before us are the desolate, sad villages that served as the final battlefields we took by force from the Germans on the Meuse. We can only spend our money at the canteens the YMCA operates. The staff has been following us like seagulls or sharks that want to devour us. They give out some of what America sends its children and sells the rest. War stirs the waters and makes for good fishing. My buddies and I bought French cookies and canned peaches and acted like kids in a candy store. We bought the sweets more out of curiosity than hunger. We must be fair toward our government and acknowledge that it supplies its military very well. This was done in spite of all the crooked leaders ’ waste and thievery, by the bums who enrich themselves with complete disregard for the “cannon fodder.” Moreover, the meticulous plans to supply an army fell apart under the whirlwind of war. We must conclude that our military really took care of us. Just compare our daily rations with those of any other army in battle. How many of us would have survived with only a bit of wine, some raw potatoes, and a piece of “army bread”? We had just returned from the YMCA when we were ordered to move out. Our forced march was very difficult because of our heavy load. The village of Mont looked lovely as we departed. We had a beautiful sunny afternoon and entered Mouzay as it was getting dark. A thousand memories of the tragic battle of November 10 and 11 rushed in. Since we did not find shelter, some of us continued walking. This is how Memorable March from Pont-Sassy, France 294 295 Memorable March we reached Stenay, the last village we took from a stubborn enemy. This speaks well for the 90th Division. We took the village by brute force and against a terrible curtain of machine gun fire. Stenay was already packed with soldiers on their way to Germany. This is where we met up with the thousands of French soldiers with their eternal and boisterous talk about so many topics. We found shelter in a building that may have served as a machine shop or factory for the French and then for the Germans . I was exhausted and so were all my buddies. We set up our beds right away and then had the best meal in the field, canned tomatoes with sugar, “cornwillie,” and “hardtack.” No king with his roasted wild boar and golden pheasant has ever been more satisfied. We were certainly the objects of envy. Soldiers to the manor born who are lazy or pretentious reject the hardtack and canned meats, whether horse, bull, or whatever. They throw the rations away soon after they receive them. I would eat something else at home, but not while at war and in a foreign land. I normally carry double rations. Dimwits are always ready to pay for them when we prepare to eat. Money has no value on these occasions. Sunday, November 24 We really missed our Mont stove because the mornings have never been so cold. The ground was white with frost. We had just finished breakfast when the sergeant major ordered everyone to bathe immediately. We found a small cauldron in an old dilapidated house. The hovel could not be heated with all the lumber in the world, much less with the few chips and dry branches we were able to find. Many soldiers were in line for their turn to bathe. Everyone wanted to be first so they could end the torture of freezing feet. The bathing proceeded very slowly. Finally, a counterorder was given to finish with the bathing, return to the village, and continue the march. We applauded the decision and the soldiers ended the general cursing that had been directed against the person who came up with the great idea of ordering baths in that cold weather and under such bad conditions. The war is over and arrogant minds that had frozen with fear are once again victimizing...

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