That night was a bright moonlight night――an ideal night for avions. Early in the evening those of us at Louvoise were having music under the trees. A few convalescent soldiers from the château hospital were sitting about in the grass, listening. As the moon came up and shone through the trees I recall “Red” Day remarking: “The avions will be over to-night,” and a short while after we heard the unmistakable crash of an avion bomb down the road in the direction of Epernay.
It must have been pretty close to eleven o’clock that Frederick Norton was standing in the back window of the little Swiss chalet at Ludes, from which place he could get a glimpse of the battle lines through the boughs of the trees. He was waiting for his call to go to the front. His call was soon to come. He no doubt heard the whirr of the approaching aeroplane overhead――he may have heard the deafening crash of the bomb as it struck the ground, making a crater in the earth and riddling the walls of the peaceful chalet. But then the sound of the war was forever silenced――for him. A piece of the shell had cut his throat――another had pierced his heart. He pitched forward, then fell backward on the floor. He had answered his final call.
The following night I walked beside my friend Frederick Norton for the last time. He was not laid to rest until after dusk because his burial place was on the side of a hill in view of the enemy――in view of the towers of the desecrated cathedral at Rheims――as fine a place as any for a volunteer who had earned an honorable rest.
There were French officers of high rank in the gathering to pay homage to the Volunteer American――a priest, a Protestant chaplain, his friends in Section One――a squad of soldiers under arms. As we stood there in the growing dusk a German aeroplane flew overhead and swept the roadside nearby with its rapid fire gun. All looked up but no one moved. The benediction being said, we walked slowly away.
July 14, 1917, was “Bastille Day,” the great French national holiday, and the troops were greatly heartened by the fact that at last America was coming over to help them win the war. French and American troops were to parade together in Paris――the fighters at the front were to have a special dinner, with a cup of champagne and a cigar. A few of the men in our Section who had a short leave of absence coming due were going into Paris for a couple of days.