The inhabitants went wild at our entry--in the little villages they came
out carrying wreaths and threw confetti and flowers as they shouted the
"Marseillaise." The infantry, marching in advance, bore the brunt of the
celebrations. What interested me most were the bands of small children,
many of them certainly not over five, dancing along the streets singing
their national anthem. It must have been taught them in secret. In the
midst of a band were often an American soldier or two, in full swing,
thoroughly enjoying themselves. The enthusiasm was all of it natural and
uninspired by alcohol, for the Germans had taken with them everything to
drink that they had been unable to finish.
Bouligny is not an attractive place--few manufacturing towns are--but we
got the men well billeted under water-tight roofs, and we were able to
heat water for washing. My striker found a large caldron and I luxuriated
in a steaming bath, the first in over a month, and, what was more, I had
some clean clothes to pull on when I got out.
One evening, when returning from a near-by village, I met a frock-coated
civilian who inquired of me in German the way to Etain. I asked him who he
was and what he wanted. He answered that he was a German but was tired of
his country and wished to go almost anywhere else. He seemed altogether
too apparent to be a spy, and even if he were I could not make out any
object that he could gain.
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