We Shall Never Forget Our Trip Up The Moselle And Rhine.

That the scenery is very beautiful we shall not deny.

It was in the lovely month of May in the spring of 1919 that we were favored with a free ride from Uncle Sam through the most beautiful scenery to be found anywhere in Germany. We cast a farewell look at the beautiful meadows of the Meuse and the old Roman towers of Verdun and a nameless longing, a vague inexpressible sadness seemed to take possession of us as our eyes rested for the last time on the gray weather-stained buildings of Glorieux hospital.

In the clear sky a crystal shower of lark notes rippled above us; from the fragrant box hedges nightingales sang their love songs; the air was filled with the riotous notes of the linnet and the loud, sweet phrases of the blackbirds, but we heard them not. For our thoughts wandered back to that spot where many of the buddies whom we had learned to love lay sleeping their long sleep. Near the hospital where thousands of French soldiers had at last found a glad relief from their pain and suffering, straight rows of white crosses met our sight and we knew the grim reaper Death had garnered his choicest sheaves. How quiet, how peaceful was the morning! No thundering cannons or whistling shells, no sputtering of machine guns or hum of hostile planes was heard. Peace had again come to the valley. The poor peasants were returning to their ruined homes, some carrying all their earthly possessions in bundles.

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