and then to “Bubbly,” a show in which the leading lady was a friend of Chip’s! Well, the show was darn good, unusually good, and Chip’s girl Teddie Gerard was pretty good.73 He went out to her dressing room in between acts to give her a time[?]. After the show Reg and I went to the Savoy for supper like two confirmed woman haters should and saw Sam come in with his smelt. After it closed up we started up but ran into Chip, Fred, and two girls from the show who kicked me out of our rooms so they could have a party. I slept with Reg.74
Tuesday, October 9, 1917. We got our orders and packed and slipped off about 4:00 for Southampton. I felt awfully low and had a headache. We got to Southampton about 6:30 and tore to the boat, which was to take us to [Le] Havre. But unfortunately it had been too rough for crossings for two days and a tremendous crowd had filled up the boat. So we were unable to get berths. People were buying and selling rights to the stationary chairs in the salon. Lots of Red Cross nurses were left in the same fix. Also the crossing promised to be cold and rough and our supper was rotten. I felt awfully sick, but about ten I managed to get a berth in a room with three other men and went to sleep. Two of the men got sick and it was rough and cold so I slept little but was somewhat better off than the poor devils who sat up in the dining saloon. In the morning I waded out recovered. It seems Sam had been taken with chills during the night. The steward thought he might die, so to warm him up he put Sam in the big bread oven. When I saw him Sam looked as if he had been raised. We docked about 7 A.M.
Wednesday, October 10, 1917. Getting ashore about 8:00 at Havre [put] all of us in a hell of a humor, and sick and tired we beat it for a hotel, procured rooms, and fell asleep. I slept from 9:00 to 4:00 and reckon most of the others did too. Then we had tea and caught the 5:00 for Paris, arriving at 10:30. We took a couple of horse-drawn vehicles and set off to find a hotel. Believe me, Paris was full. After trying several hotels, Hen, Sam, “Scab,” and I got rooms at the Chatham,75 a rotten place, whose bar was already famous among Americans, and the others got in the Grand,76 a very nice place. Even Chip and Hen didn’t care for a party that night. While waiting out a ride, observing naught in my innocence, a sweet-faced little girl passed but stopped and returned to say “Will sleep with me?” probably all she knew. I had learned something in London but realized I would learn more in Paris. However, with perfect sang froid I said, “Sorry, not tonight,” which passed over her head, and I realized that she had learned only as much English as was actually necessary.
Thursday, October 11, 1918. Arose to see Paris for the first time. It wasn’t worth getting out of a nice warm bed. It was raining, cold, disagreeable. Had lunch at the Café de la Paix,77 after which we reported to naval aviation headquarters at 23 Rue de la Paix. We checked up on the regulations and Reg, always a thorough individual, read from his manual that officers reporting for duty should do so in full dress. Well, full dress included some tin swords we’d been forced to buy and had brought with us in much the same spirit as a married man carries with him on a trip his rubbers. Still, Chip, Hen, and I were loath to appear as prescribed. We got ready but delayed till the other four preceded us in full dress to report. So we were in the anteroom and heard our associates enter, garbed as they were in fitting attire. And we listened to a strange voice, “What the hell are you? Where did you get that uniform from? Are you boys in the naval cavalry?” It seems one’s sword should be carried tight against the side hooked in one’s belt, not dragging and swaying full length as ours were; that a U.S. naval aviator should wear ordinary naval officers’ uniform, not one with RFC wings attached; and finally the blue dress uniform was not for reporting at a foreign base. Chip, Ken, and I retreated in good order to our hotels and altered our attack, with the result, “Well, thank God, at least some of you novices have some sense.” Maybe we weren’t thereafter the leading spirits of us seven. Actually, two very nice Lieuts. talked to us [Virgil] Griffin and [Norman] Van der Veer.78 They said we could stay in Paris for a few days and they would take care of our pay accounts, etc.
After leaving the naval office I left the others and walked around for awhile, then went to the Chatham and wrote a couple of letters telling mother and Harry [Davison] what a hell of a trip we had. On the same day who did I run into but Cy Clark, my old friend from St. Paul’s School,79 and Wakeham, who roomed with Red Martin at college.80 I certainly was glad to see an old Boze and arranged to dine with him. Met Cy at 6:30 and had supper in a little restaurant nearby and then went to the Folies Bergères.81 After all, London is a tame city. Here I saw life—about the rottenest life that could be lived and I certainly was disgusted with the French. Here also I ran into Charlie Blackwell, senior in Sheff[ield], St. Anthony.82 After leaving this hole I returned home and read for a bit till Hen came in when we both agreed that the Lord slipped up when he made the French.
Friday, October 12, 1917. After breakfast, Hen and I reported and received orders to leave Paris Saturday night or Sunday morning for Bordeaux. I also was informed in a nice way that I was an ass for leaving my commission and pilot’s license behind. I had written for them the night before. Until they come I’ll get no pay. Pay reminds me that on Thursday I went to Morgan Harjes and got them to cash a check for $200 and I deposited another for $100. Mr. Harjes, an old friend of Dad’s, was not to be seen.83 After doing my bit at the naval office I met Cy at the hotel and we got two friends of his, Wakeham and Ted Blair, also a classmate from school. After they had all they could stand at the Creole bar we went to the Chinese Umbrella for lunch,84 meeting then Alan Winslow,85 C.B.’s roommate. It seems this is the meeting place of Americans, American food being the reason. Why do Americans stick to their own kind of food in France? After lunch I wrote and then went to the Ritz for tea.86 Then the same bunch with Scab went to Joseph’s and had a big dinner there. Got back about 10:30.
Saturday, October 13, 1917. Reported as usual, but missed breakfast. Scab and I had an early lunch after signing at the Yale Club. Saw Maury Jones,87 Win Little there. Met Charley at the hotel and went to [the American] hospital at Nieully [-sur-Seine] and saw Harry Thompson, wounded by shell in transport.88 Then packed, bought wristwatch, and went to Ritz for tea. Then returned and went to Café Paris89 for dinner with Sam, George Haven, and Reg. Scab said he was going to bed, we left him. As we walked into the restaurant who should we see but Scab and some smelt. He had apparently discovered a rather unique cure for his malady. He got fussed and came over to us and asked how he could get rid of her. How should we know? Then he slipped outside door and left her to eat and pay for the big dinner. Went to bed early, but Hen didn’t get in until 5:30.
Sunday, October 14, 1917. We got up at 6:30 and took the 8:25 for Bordeaux. We went through Tours and saw all the way down to the coast beautiful scenery. Picturesque old chateaus and ruins. Had lunch in a real dining car. Arrived at 6:30, met Bob [Lovett], one of our [Yale] Unit, who was second in command at the U.S.N. station at Moutchic,90 and had dinner and stayed at Terminus Hôtel. Bob, with his customary gravity and sincerity, tried to discourage us with tales of how awful the place was—all mud and rain.
Monday, October 15, 1917. Arose, breakfasted, and met Bob. Then we bought blankets, boots, and raincoats, till what was left of our money ran out. According to Bob it was the weather, not the Huns we were to fight. Had lunch at Bob’s hotel and then met Harry LeGore.91 Then we jumped into a slow truck and started for Moutchic. It was a 12-mile an hour Packard truck and we didn’t arrive till about 6:30. (From then on I hated a Packard.) 49 kilometers. We agreed we’d never be truck drivers, not while we could, say, stoke a liner. We didn’t stop at the station long but went to Lacanau and had a great dinner and went to sleep in a hotel.92
Tuesday, October 16, 1917. The truck had arrived to take us to Moutchic when we arose and we hurried through, or rather it hurried through, some rotten coffee. When we arrived at Moutchic they were hard at work setting up hangars, building barracks, etc. There were two long rows of tents and two barracks, several office buildings and some store houses and the nice house in which the officers lived a luxurious life.93 We looked the place over, saw to our orders, and then Chip, Hen, Scab, and I were sent to Hourtin in a truck while Sam, Fred, and Reg were told to stick around a day and then go and stay at Bordeaux until orders were received.94 We arrived at Hourtin about 12:00 and reported. Also saw Al [Sturtevant] and John [Vorys] who were still there. Then we were sent to the village to eat a rotten meal.
