Letters from the Front: J. Gresham Machen's Correspondence from World War 1 by Waugh Barry

Author:Waugh, Barry [Waugh, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: P&R Publishing
Published: 2012-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

August 1, 1918

My dearest Mother:

When I give you a little outline of my daily life and at the same time tell you that I am now alone in charge of the post, you will understand how hard it is to write letters. At half-past-seven sharp in the morning I have to open up the “Y” for the men who clean it. Then I get my breakfast, and almost immediately after we open for business. Business continues all day until about a quarter past nine at night. With the close of business begins the job of counting the money and getting the report ready for the office. Sorting the ridiculously torn money is apt to be rather a tedious job, and calculating the worth in French money of American bills, money-orders etc. also takes time. So the secretary is lucky if he gets to bed before ten o’clock. During the day I leave my post only for meal time, and then only for about a half-hour. One of the men has been good enough to keep the place for me while I am out. It would be almost impossible to get the men out of it in order to lock it up, and we rather take pride in keeping it open at all times. During the day the stream of purchasers ebbs and flows somewhat, but I do not suppose there is ever more than one or two minutes without interruption. Even such intervals as that are rare. Despite the confining, sedentary nature of the life, I like it better than when I am associated with another man. It seems to put me on my metal, and I get along better with myself than with any other associate! The fellow that was with me for a few days after the departure of Mr. McQuaid suited me only fairly well. He was too much inclined to go his own way without consulting his senior. Also he seemed always to drift in first at meals, leaving me to cold dinners and malnutrition. I finally had to call a halt to this latter procedure. McQuaid was just the other way—always wanted me to go first. But I should not have liked to be McQuaid’s assistant permanently.

Our supply is carried on by Ford camionettes which arrive in the evening at about nine o’clock, day travel being forbidden hereabouts. The stock has now been allowed to run down to almost nothing—compared at least with the good stock that we had ten days ago. At times I have sold some 1,900 francs worth of goods in the course of a day. One important part of the work is the filling of orders assigned by a sergeant or by an officer, for things to be sent to men in the lines. The demand for goods, however, is not nearly equal to that which prevailed at my last post.

On Sunday, we held two services, at both of which I talked briefly to the men. My associate proved to be a singer, and was a great help in the musical part of the day’s exercises.

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