My Adventures at the British Front
Monday, September 3. Paris.
In this morning’s mail was a letter from Somewhere in London, replying favorably to my request to go to the British front. I was directed to take the letter to the assistant provost marshal, who would slip me a pass and inform me as to the details of the trip.
At the A.P.M. ’s I was given the pass and with it “an undertaking to be signed by all intending visitors to the front.” There are ten rules in the undertaking, and some of them are going to be hard to obey. For example:
“I understand that it is impossible to arrange for me to see relatives serving with the fighting forces.”
“I will not visit the enemy front during the present war.”