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Updated: June 5, 2025
Credentials being requested, and the request complied with accompanied by a dazzling smile, there ensued a silent interval of some length during which the young man wearing the uniform of an American Intelligence Officer was not at all certain whether Recklow was examining him or the papers of identification. After a while Recklow nodded: "You came through from Toul, Captain?"
In three splendid armies the tide of invasion set in; the Red Prince tearing a bloody path to Metz, the Crown Prince riding west by south, resting in Nancy, snubbing Toul, spreading out into the valley of the Marne to build three monuments of bloody bones Saint-Marie, Amanvilliers, Saint-Privat.
I replied: "To Toul." "To Toul! You're going straight toward the Boche lines. Turn around. You're the third truck that's got lost in this blizzard. Back that opposite way is your direction." The morning after it had cleared it was worth all the discomfort to see the hills and fields of France.
Another road led down toward divisional headquarters. Another road led into Toul, and a fourth led directly toward the German lines, over which, if we had driven far enough, as we started to do one night in the dark, we could have gone straight to Berlin. The first night that I went "down the line" alone with a truck-load I was trembling inside about directions.
From Fort Camp des Romains above St. Mihiel German guns sweep the railroad near Commercy, and one has to turn south by a long detour, as if one went to Boston by Fitchburg, travel south through the country of Jeanne d'Arc and return by Toul, whose forts look out upon the invaded land.
By September 13th the Americans had taken forty-seven towns and villages, reduced the German front from forty miles to twenty, captured the railway that connects Verdun with Commercy, opened the cities of Nancy and Toul to the allies, and with the French and British on the east, created a new battle front on a line running from Hattonville on the west to Pagny on the east Pagny being a town on the Moselle river, at the German border.
It was in the very beginning of June, at evening, but not yet sunset, that I set out from Toul by the Nancy gate; but instead of going straight on past the parade-ground, I turned to the right immediately along the ditch and rampart, and did not leave the fortifications till I came to the road that goes up alongside the Moselle.
"From Toul, sir," with the quick smile revealing dazzling teeth. "Matters progress?" "It is quiet there." "So I understand," nodded Recklow. "There's blood on your uniform." "A scratch a spill from my motor-cycle." Recklow eyed the cut on the officer's handsome face. One of the young officer's hands was bandaged, too. "You've been in action, Captain." "No, sir." "You wear German shoes."
It was an hour later that I found a train leaving for Nancy, though even then I was assured by railway officials that there was no such train. I had faith, however, in a young French officer who pledged his word to me that I should get to Nancy if I took my place in the carriage before which he stood. He was going as far as Toul himself.
Three of our women officers in the Toul Sector had slept for three weeks in a hay-stack, in an open field, to be near the men of an ammunition train taking supplies to the front under cover of darkness.
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