The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1916-1920, 1918-10-06
Copyright, 1918, Al rights reserved.
SOMEWHERE IN France.

Copyright, 1918. Al rights reserved.
SoMEwuERE IN France.
nEAR BILL-It is raining and
~ there is nothing else to do but
stay in your tent. So far it has rained
many times every day for q week, my first
week in France, aud if hadn't been in
France before 1 would begin to ask why
anybody ever called it "Sunny France"
As a matter of fact. the sun has been
shining just as many times as there has
been a shower, but it's all So intermittent
as 10 spoil the effect of the whole. Of
course, if you should happen to venture
ont of doors at, say, 1922 A. NJ; lilo
A. NJ, ii Al A. NJ, 1890 p. NJ, 1:57
p. NJ, 2:O7 p. NJ, 5 % P. NJ. and AGO
p. M would find the sun shining
brightly from blue sky and would
have every reason in the world to exclaim:
''What a perfect day! They do well to
call this sunny France" But, on the
other hand, if your journeys into the
open should take place at, say, 1923 A.
NJ, I'LL A. NJ, IL ~ A NJ, 1921 P.
NJ, l IS p. NJ, 2;0s P. NJ, $3.50 P. NJ
and 4 81 P. NJ, YOU would find the sky
gray and weeping and would be justified
in crying, "What wretehed weather! 1t
rams all the time!"
Roses and Bacon Grease.
Then there are plenty of peasants here
about who will tell you that they have had
six weeks of wonderful sunshiny weather
just before We came. That must be the
way of the world, the word over. Did
find the weather bad that the inhabitants
didn't affirm, with great emphasis, that
they have just come through marvellous
spell OF pleasant weathcr9 -
Anyway, enough of the weather ] have
an entirely different theme for the re-
mainder of this letter. There isn't any
thing military about it except the fact
thai its Being written. sin the field" The
theme is bacon grease and roses!
You'll have TO admit that that's an
unusual topic. Bacon grease and roses!
1t would make good title for volume
Of verses. Imagine associating the lees
of the frying pan with beautiful flower.
Wei, this is the way it all happened:
Day before yesterday I struck up q
fine comradeship with a French woman.
She is a peasant, past middle age, with a
small, merry, wrinkled face and couple
teeth missing in front; but her enchanting
smile makes you forget this ugliness. She
is one of. the many peasants who come
TO the hedge bordering oar camp area,
in hopes OF getting some white bread from
the soldiers. They come every day, rain
or shine, with only a thin white cap pro-
tecting their heads from the showers.
The Painful Pain.
These women come with an apron bulg
ing over 4 mysterious parcel. Sometimes
it is a bottle of wine they want TO sell
at dollar a bottle. 1t is usually sour,
and a cheap wine, indeed. Even the tiniest
Youngsters will come whispering along
the road intent on wine selling.
But the little peasant lady with whom
! made friends had no wine to sell. 1t
was the black war bread of France she
brought with her and which she wanted to
trade for our army white bread. She,
like all; the others. didn't like her black
bread. a.
"Ic paik . rancais est noir THE French
bread is IfAekl," she lamented III nest
pas bon. III isn't good.l C'est noir,
NOR, noir.'
She put all her dislike into The words: