It is their
one warm, bright spot, for a great stove nearly always blazes away in
the Y. M. C. A. hut, and it is the only warmth the lad knows. Few of
the billets or tents in France boast of a stove.
Two things I shall never forget. One was the sight of a Y. M. C. A.
hut that I saw in a town far back of the trenches. It was in the town
where General Pershing's headquarters are located. On the very tip of
the hill above me was the hut. Its every window was a blaze of light.
It was the one dominating, scintillating building of the town, a big
double hut. When I climbed the hill to this hut I found it crowded to
its limits with men from everywhere. The rest of the town was dark and
there was little life, but here was the pulse of social life and
comradeship, and here was the one blaze and glory of light.
The other sight that I shall not forget was up within a few hundred
yards of the German lines. It was night. We were returning from our
furtherest hut "down the line." We met a crowd of American soldiers
tramping through the snow and mud and cold. They were shivering even
as they walked. We stopped the machine and gave them a lift. I asked
one of the lads where he was going. He said: "Down to the 'Y' hut in
----." I said: "Where is your camp?" He replied: "Up at ----." I
said: "Why, boy, that's four miles away from the hut.
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