Ashland weekly tidings. [volume] (Ashland, Or.) 1919-1924, 1922-03-15
SIGHTSEEING IN FRANCE"

mont, lay enveloped in cold, pene-
trating fog, as the companies of
certain sapper regiment gathered
and formed for the days sightseeing
jaunt. Heavy marching order as al
ways. Everything you own on your
back, for you may not come this
way again.
Horses shivering in the clammy
fog, plunged and baked as the wa
gons and rolling Kitchens ployed out
of the muddy forest into the road
that stretched away into the mist to-
ward that place beyond the horizon
where the sleepy muttering of can
non came muffled to our ears. After
much standing in line and moving
to and fro, the column was formed
and moved out under a storm OF
caustic remarks anent the useless
ness of hiking north on one road on
" to trudge south on another, the
next day, for we were headed south.
General Jack would learn a lot on
how to conduct real war if he could
only stand on the side of road and
listen to the freely given opinions of
a regiment of sappers on the hike.
Comments die down, however, with
a mutter, when the colonel dashes
past in a sidecar.
Over a hill, through cut of soft,
slippery red clay, we trudged and
then, to our relief, turned westward
along a byroad through the dripping
trees of a small forest to come out
into a narrow valley by the Beslnier
farm. An inspiring sight is opened
before US, the road leading to the
north is packed and jammed with
slowly moving wagons, limbers and
kitchens, while across the fields and
beside the wagons, the Nab hosts OF
marching men crawled steadily for
ward into the fog. As far as could
be seen the land is alive with phan.
tom forms,
Our column cut into the already
OVerflOW!ng road while we tramp be-
side them or across the fields, as
might be convenient. AS the day
wears on the fog lifts, and fine,
drizzly rain adds Zest to the occasion
and beauty to the landscape. To the
right small town, Clermont-en-
ArgOnne, sprawls along the muddy
hillside, and one marvels why II does
not slide down into the meadow be-
low.
TO the north the road, graded wide
and easy, asCends the low hill, COW
cred with tangle of dun colored
brush and small trees. Motor trucks
painting and throbbing, slithered up
the hill from st. Memehold and
crowded us arrOgantly from the road
into the ditch. How we would like
to wiring the necks of those cocky
NJ. Il. drivers-but roads are not for
foot troops,-so out into the weeds
you 90, and the cold water from
their tops is driven through your
trousers and leggins and seeps down
into your shoes to squash pleasantly
up and down between your toes.
At the top OF the hill the road
threads its way along narrow ridge.
to the right through forest of large
beech and oak, a valley filled with
drifting fog. See the gaunt shape Of
a shattered tree, where some giant
broadaxe has slashed from right to
left Over here a gnarled oak, all
honeycombed with holes, like the
work of great woOdpeckers. Surely
something has been doing here. I'm
der the trees, which stand stark and
broken, all is a trampled sea Of mud,
for in a day shortly passed, this was
stabling place for innumerable
horses that go to the making OF an
army. Where those poor, half-starved
beasts had been tied, all the bark Is
gnawed from the trunks and limbs as
high as a horse might reach. On both
sides of the road, hanging in defect
ed festoons, entanglements spread
their hellish network away into the
wilderness of sodden brush and
trees.
A halt for lunch. How cheering
to march past the steaming Kitchen
and receive your portion of savory
stew and a cup of black and scalding
coffee. True, the stew is composed
of dried carrots and corned beef.
Yes. and the coffee is rank with the
taste of chloride of lime, but 1t Is
warm and relieves one of the chill
induced by the monotonous dripping
of Sunny France. During this short
rest. the train goes rumbling BY.
crowdlng and iostling along the
sloppy road.
Shortly we come to a place In the
edge Of standing timber, where the