A hundred yards farther we came to the second one, loaded
down with American boys. Their rifles were stacked in the front of the
truck, and their helmets made a solid steel covering over the trucks.
One by one, fifty trucks loaded with American soldiers passed us. One
can hardly imagine that many American boys anywhere without some noise,
but the impressive thing about that scene was that not a single word,
not a sound of a human voice, came from a single one of those fifty
trucks. The only sound to be heard breaking the silence of the night
was the crunching of the chained wheels of the heavy trucks in the
snow. We watched that strangely silent procession go up over a
snow-covered hill and disappear. Not a single sound of a human voice
had broken the silence.
Another Silhouette of Silence: It is an operating-room in an evacuation
hospital. The boy was brought in last night. An operation was
immediately imperative. I had known the boy, and was there by courtesy
of the major in charge of the hospital. The boy had asked that I come.
For just one hour they worked, two skilled American surgeons, whose
names, if I were to mention them, would be recognized as two of
America's greatest specialists. France has many of them who have given
up their ten-thousand-dollar fees to endure danger to save our boys.
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