Written at a later date: On the second Sunday in October as our boys advanced, we went with them as far as Fleaville, but after getting that far we were stopped by an M.P. who told us we were not allowed to go any farther. I told him I was one of the first women to go on the line and be under fire and had been near the front since the 19th of Jan, but he said, “We need you and therefore we must not let you go too close. Just let me tell you, we Americans are proud of you.” So we returned to Chato Chebery, and after going to the Adj. office we secured a building; it was badly wrecked. When the boys saw that we were two Salvation Army girls, they pitched in and helped, and by night everything was is working order. The room we slept in had no roof and not much sides and about six inches of water on the floor. It was a terrible place; there were guns all around us and some dead soldiers, as there had been no time to bury them. There were wounded, too. We felt safe as the boys and were needed, which was enough for us. In the morning the Adj. came and said we must leave as it was too close to the front. There had been heavy shelling all night. The corner had been knocked off our dwelling and a roof would fall now and then but we assured him we were not afraid of the danger and proved to him that we were needed. We made pies, donuts, and sandwiches that day, and in the evening he came and told us we could stay. For three weeks we were never undressed. Every night “Jerry” would come over in his planes to “Strafe” us.
One night stands out in my memory. Siss Swenson was too tired to care about Jerry coming over and said to me, “I am going to undress tonight and get one good night’s sleep.” She had no more than said this when “Bing-Bang,” and “Jerry” announced his arrival. He soon passed and we were falling asleep when the familiar “Bing-Bang” was heard, and it sounded as if the building was falling. Miss Swenson jumped up and grabbed her kimono, and in her excitement, putting her feet in the armholes she rushed down the stairs, knocking a large box of candles over, and these clattered down the stairs after her, making such a racket it sounded as if the universe was crashing on our heads. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, we just laughed and laughed. Even the possibility of “Jerry” getting us in that minute, we had to laugh.
In this advanced zone, no one is allowed to have a light show, so all the windows are covered. At times there would be six or seven boys kneeling around the table writing to their loved ones. We always had the windows carefully covered. Many pictures are engraved on my mind of these evenings, and I shall never forget them.
Diary of a World War I Donut Girl 