We slept in an old barn to which we had been detailed the first two nights, but the close atmosphere drove us to our cars. I have made a regular little cabin out of mine. A good-sized bundle of straw, spread over the floor of the car, makes a fine mattress and for my heating and lighting system I have two kerosene lanterns. I am writing now sitting up in bed, and with my mackinaw on, since the heaters are not always too efficient. Pretty soon it will become stuffy and then I will throw back the canvas flap and the side windows and go to sleep.
On Monday we shifted all the cars to a new parking place behind the village church. Iselin had us move them here so that we might have a better location in case we were not ordered to move immediately.
Yesterday I saw a wedding in this church. It was a sad affair. The bride was a great, strong peasant woman and the groom a sickly, little chap who could not get into the army. The whole bridal party, father, mother and all the relatives were dressed in deep mourning and the only happy persons in the entire church were the altar boys who played tug of
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