Photograph from Harriet Chalmers Adams 

 WRITING HOME 1 A TYPE OF CAP NOW USED BY AMERICAN SOLDIERS AT THE FRONT 

 The steel helmet, worn by our men, fits over the cap 



It was fascinating to hear of the battle 

 of Nancy from men who had made his- 

 tory. They painted a vivid picture. The 

 Prussian army was ordered to take the 

 city at any cost. The Kaiser himself was 

 waiting to ride, with banners flying, to 

 the Place Stanislas. 



THE BATTEE OF NANCY 



If the hills of Amance were taken, the 

 road was clear. On swept the Huns. 

 "Deutchland iiber Alles," intoned by 

 thousands of voices, blended with the 

 hurricane of artillery fire. Unprepared 

 France threw the shells of her 75's and 

 countless precious lives against the foe. 

 By the grace of God, the French held 

 Amance. This was the worst day the 

 Kaiser ever had. If he had won Nancy, 

 he would have won Paris. 



Next morning a messenger arrived, 

 asking, in the Emperor's name, an armis- 

 tice of 24 hours to bury the dead. It was 

 granted. The French expected another 

 assault, but the Kaiser returned to Berlin. 

 When in his capital, by the way, he is 

 within ten hours by express train of 

 every point on his frontier with the ex- 

 ception of Alsace-Lorraine. 



From a plateau beyond Nancy one can 

 see on the far horizon the cathedral spires 

 of Metz, capital of lost Lorraine. In 



plain view are the German villages near 

 the frontier — the frontier since 1870. 

 "The Boche," said our host, "is only a 

 few minutes away by aeroplane." 



In plain view from this plateau are the 

 trenches in the vicinity of the Rhine- 

 Marne Canal, where in the early morn- 

 ing of November 3 the Germans raided a 

 salient held by American soldiers, and 

 our first blood sacrifice was made in the 

 front-line trenches in France. 



There are many French towns that we 

 will know better before the war is over. 

 If you have not already made its ac- 

 quaintance, let me introduce you to Lune- 

 ville. It lies southeast of Nancy in the 

 foothills of the Vosges, within sight of 

 those purple peaks which mark the south- 

 ernmost point of the French trenches. 



DESOLATION WHERE ONCE STOOD PROSPER- 

 OUS, HISTORIC LUNEVILLE 



Luneville is a gray, industrial town of 

 20,000 souls, prospering before the war 

 in its manufacture of railway carriages 

 and motor cars, chinaware and chemical 

 salts. A gorgeous chateau is all that re- 

 mains of its former glory, when the dukes 

 of Lorraine made it their playground. 

 In their day this palace was gayer than 

 Versailles, and its gardens were noted 

 throughout Europe, serving Watteau's 



515 



