Suniat is a queer place, sort of a hospital and yet for most cases, merely a relay post. Tom Orr and I have been on duty here since yesterday at noon. We had one run apiece during the night with some blessés from a little "coup de main." This is a very small attack where a patrol of fifteen or twenty men are sent over to the enemy's lines to bring back prisoners. Later these men are questioned and much information, such as the movement of troops and the location of machine-guns is obtained.
It is a beautiful Spring day here. The trees are covered with leaves once more and the fields seem brighter than they were two weeks ago. I was talking to the "Mèdecin Major" this morning, bragging about the huge apple-trees we grow in America. I carelessly used the expression "Pomme de terre" for the word apple, and he laughingly told me that there weren't any potato trees in France. Several of the officers here have asked me if I knew of any attractive American girls who would be willing to correspond with them. This seems to be an old custom among the French soldiers, and a very good one.
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