Back from Christmas break. Looks like everyone kept themselves occupied.
31 December, 1915 Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux Somewhere between Marseille and Paris
Gaston was sitting in the train compartment taking him back to Paris. His pass has nearly expired and he had to get back to Le Bourget to obtain his transfer orders. He was finishing the last piece of far breton that Violette had made for him before his departure and was now occupying himself by looking through the window and enjoying the vistas going by. He had a wonderful Christmas with his wife and his children. Giselle had grown so much since his last visit and Bernadette followed him everywhere asking all sorts of questions. Girls are so inquisitive. Both girls asked for a little brother for Christmas. After not seeing Gaston for such a long time even his wife was warming up to the idea after the children went to bed. Gaston had to be firm and agreed to discuss it further AFTER the war. When will he see his family again? Will he ever see them again? Gaston flicked off the last of the crumbs from his uniform and adjusted his armband that displayed the pilot’s brevet. He was still getting used to it and the looks the ladies were giving him. By Gaston’s estimate the train will not arrive at its final destination for another few hours. Just enough time for a nice nap. When the train stopped at the Paris station, Gaston was refreshed and ready for the final leg of his journey. Outside of Gare de Lyon, among the usual turmoil and bustle where everyone appeared to be lost, Gaston was able to hail one of the famous Parisian taxis to take him to Le Bourget. It was difficult to see the road with the thick flakes of snow coming down all around. The taxi driver was an army veteran and the eyepatch he was wearing on his left eye betrayed his inability to serve. Hugo, the taxi driver had an opinion just about everything. The man would not stop talking. As long as his Renault was in motion, so was his mouth. Gaston was certain Hugo was related to his neighbour - Mme Ponsardin, the only other person he knew afflicted by such advanced case of oratory diarrhea. By the time the car stopped at the gates to the aerodrome, Gaston had been subjected to Hugo’s rants about his wife’s venereal disease and he couldn’t get out of the taxi fast enough. He gave Hugo a fistful of Francs and left as fast as he could without slipping and falling on the iced over path covered by fresh powder. He pretended not to hear Hugo yelling after him that he gave him too much. As far as Gaston was concerned, it was money well spent. The snow was now coming down harder in large flakes sticking to his nose, eyebrows and his moustache. It crunched underfoot and by the time Gaston reached the barracks he was covered in a thick, white coat. It looks like no one will be flying out on the New Year’s day.
Happy New Year to All!
"Take the cylinder out of my kidneys, The connecting rod out of my brain, my brain, From out of my arse take the camshaft, And assemble the engine again."