War Service Letters 



459 



nine-year-old boy who was 'lost' in the evacuation of a hospital at 

 Noyon, 



"We have definite instructions to close all of the Red Cross work on 

 December 31st. Unfortunately, instead of being transferred to the de- 

 vastated area, as some of us had hoped, there is every indication that 

 most of us will be sent home. I am making every effort to get into some 

 form of work, even if it is in another country, but so far have not met 

 with any encouragement. All the refugee workers are bitterly disap- 

 pointed that we are not to be allowed to help in the reconstruction. 

 Down here all any one can do is just temporary. It would have been 

 infinitely more interesting to be helping restore these people to normal 

 life and surroundings again. 



"It is funny what grandmotherly concern we have about leaving our 

 refugees to the care of their own countrymen ! We of course feel that 

 we handle things better ! It is a constant wonder to us how anything is 

 ever accomplished with all the impedimenta of ceremonial and red tape 

 that accompanies every movement. And the documents ! I wish you 

 could see some of the offices at the prefecture, just spilling over with 

 records. When I think of all the people I've told my age to, and realize 

 that each time it was written down and filed away, my brain reels. 



"I have just had a very amusing instance of the circumlocutory way 

 of doing things here. I have been receiving large stocks of provisions, 

 and was greatly annoyed by an octroi official, who not only came nosing 

 around and talking about taxing everything I brought in, but actually 

 held up my goods at the station and wouldn't let them be delivered until 

 I had declared what was inside the bales and boxes. As I had ordered 

 everything from shoes to ham and from crutches to an accordion, and 

 didn't know what was coming first, that was plumb impossible, and I 

 got very, very mad. I sat down and wrote a hot letter to the prefect, 

 and told him that, as the goods were brought from America for the ex- 

 clusive benefit of his refugees, I thought it unfair that I should pay the 

 same tax as the merchants did, and asked to be exempted; said, too, 

 that if that couldn't be, would he at least tell his octroi man to give me 

 the privilege of declaring them myself, and not annoy me by holding up 

 their delivery? It certainly was a fierce letter, and when a week went 

 by without a reply I began to repent me of my boldness. But then the 

 letters began to come in. I got one from the prefect, one from the 

 mayor, one from the conseil generate — something like an attorney- 

 general — and one from a lawyer in Bordeaux. And the upshot of the 

 matter was that I had asked something that the law of France would 

 not allow them to give. Much as it pained them, they had to tax me; 

 but the very moment the tax was paid it should be returned to me, for 

 it was intolerable that I should be asked to pay. A few such incidents 

 in a day make one a little dizzy. . . . 



"As usual, this letter has taken a rest of a few weeks, and most ex- 

 citing things have been happening. About two weeks ago I got a tele- 



