The Glenwood post., 1918-12-07
Woman Makes Chocolate and
Other Dainties for Men
on Firing Line.
She GIVES The HOME TOUCH
Calls II Privilege to Talk to Boys,
Sees That They Are Well and
Happy and That Their
Clothes Are Whole.
By ROY s. DURsTINE.

Paris.-SOme day the story OF what
American women have done over here
In France will be written. People
will hear, then. about the women who
are cooking and baking for the Amer
lean boys with their helmets and gas
masks on the shelf, next the baking
powder can. They will learn of the
casual heroines who see nothing re-
markable in making hot chocolate In
shacks where the rain and the snow
come in on them through fresh shell
holes in the roof.
One of the women people will hear
about will be Mrs. Clara Simmons.
She is as close to the front line
here as any woman is permitted to
30. For many days, during the active
fighting just over the hill from her,
she was the only woman in the entire
area. That didn't bother her at all.
The boys wanted hot chocolate, and
she could make 1t. So there you are.
And there she was.
She Is little bit of America, of
American womanhood, dropped right
down in the middle of the fighting
the boys than anything in the world.
except letter. She has no pic
turesque ideas about carrying culture
and uplift to the soldiers. She's
there to work for them.
Sure Like the Chocolate.
She works with huge mixing bowl
full of pulverized chocolate, and seven
or eight open cans of condensed milk
on the table. On the rickety stove
where the old fireplace used to be, a
great kettle of hot water is simmer
ing. She stirs and pours, and pours
and stirs, till the air Of the little
shack is as fragrant as that of
candy store at home.
A convoy of camions rumbles past
her door. They are almost at the end
of their journey. German territory
isn't half dozen kilometers away.
Mrs. Simmons knows that, of course.
but she huns, under her breath. at
her work.
Even before the hot chocolate is
quite ready, the boys begin to arrive.
They come in tin hats with gas masks
hanging at their sides. Her own he'll
met and mask are on the shelf behind
her.
"Hot chocolate readyT the first one
asks.
"All ready" she says, as she stirs
1t with her long spoon. She fills one
Of the tin cups from the mantelpiece.
"Um-m-m!" says the youngster.
"That's good and thick. Give us a
package Of cookies"
He takes his tin cup and his cookies
to an empty packing box in the cor
ner, sits down, and feasts slowly and
luxuriously. Another boy is at the
board that serves as counter.
Gives the Home Touch.
Some of the boys stop to gossip.
when the edge is taken OF their
thirsts and hungers.
Remember Bill Johnson1" they ask
Mrs. Simmons. She does. He was
the boy who always took three cups
Of chocolate.
"He won't any more for awhile"
they tell her. "Stopped one in the leg
last night.
"Oh, that's too bad!" she says, just
the way she would say it at home II
she heard that Johnnie had the
measles.
That's the thing about Mrs. Sim
mons and such women. She brings
to the boys constant reminder of
the women they have left behind. Of
their mothers and their sisters and
their wives. She talks In the most
casual American way about things
that are neither casual nor American.
After the last of her soldiers has
put on his tin hat and gone down
the hill into the valleys from which
they start for their outposts, she be-
gins talking very simply about her
work.
"There is not mother or wife or
sister Of any one Of these boys who
wouldn't give all she has to he where
I am today" she says. "Just think
what privilege 1t is to talk to them,
and to see that they are well and
happy, and that their clothes are
whole. Women, you know, worry
most about their uncertainties. II
could only tell the people who are
worrying about these boys how h;:s';y
and cheerful their youngsters are.
That's what would make them happy.
Every time l get tired, I just think
how many thousands OF women would
be the happiest persons on earth II
they could be where l am. Oh, it's
sreati"