. A green tent in Flanders. ll the youth of my own familyis not ten miles away, though letters be-tween us are six days on the road. We haveone gassed French soldier. He will recover,but it is not pretty to see—nor reassuring. January 1, 1916. How gladly would we follow the customof certain ancient peoples of Asia Minor andpresent this New Year with the dead head ofthe Old. The gorgon face of 1915, itseyes closed forever, would surely propitiatethe most implacable deity. Ropes of evergreens and a plum puddingwhich came too late for our Christmasfestivities are to celebrate the day. Baronhints
. A green tent in Flanders. ll the youth of my own familyis not ten miles away, though letters be-tween us are six days on the road. We haveone gassed French soldier. He will recover,but it is not pretty to see—nor reassuring. January 1, 1916. How gladly would we follow the customof certain ancient peoples of Asia Minor andpresent this New Year with the dead head ofthe Old. The gorgon face of 1915, itseyes closed forever, would surely propitiatethe most implacable deity. Ropes of evergreens and a plum puddingwhich came too late for our Christmasfestivities are to celebrate the day. Baronhints that in the matter of the mass thismorning we barely avoided a Franco-American pitfall. He is somewhat enig-matic, but he assures me that he took theonly way mysteriously to save everybodysface. The result was une toute petite messebasse. So Tessac only sings a little—but A GREEN TENT IN FLANDERS 129 very well. I rack my brains for a Medecin-chef, we all know, is sharplyanti-clerical. In response to a wish from. the French nurses—^possibly with the mobil-ized priests behind them—I had asked hispermission for this New Years M. Lussan think the screw was beingturned on him by the priests, through me,whom he could not well refuse so small afavour without discourtesy? The wholestrain between Church and State, in minia- 130 A GREEN TENT IN FLANDERS ture, loomed maybe behind our little Baron—did lie know his actor best andwith fine French flair score a victory, yetturn away wrath by so discreet a use of hisprivilege? How deep is the art of naviga-tion! We distribute coloured bags of sweets,knapsack needle-cases, and photo framesin the wards. The baker of the villagesends us up big trays of cakes, as a NewYears offering to the men; the tobacconistsends cigarettes and packets of pipe tobaccoall round. The unquenchable, witty light-heartedness of the French soldier rises tothe occasion. No excuse for a f^te can bedisregarded; so again we make
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