In September of 1918 Col. Bozeman Bulger, in charge of the press bureau of the A. E. F., was driving in his car up toward the front on the afternoon of a day when there had been hard fighting with the stubborn Germans. Limping down the high road on the way from the forward trenches to rest billets came a company of infantry, or what was left of it, just relieved after more than a week of practically continuous service under fire. The officer in command was a lanky youth of perhaps twenty-two whose face was gray with exhaustion. He hailed Bulger, asking for something to smoke. He had been without tobacco, he said, for four days—without food, too, for most of that time. Bulger left his car and he and the youth sat down together in a convenient shell hole to pass the time of day. Between long, grateful puffs on a cigarette the youth discoursed of his recent experiences in the slow drawl of a Southwesterner. “Major,” he said, “we’ve had it pretty toler’ble tough these last few days—the Heinies shelling us day and night, communication interrupted and liaison broken, no chow to speak of, no makin’s, no nothing except mud and wet and the chances of being blown into little scraps. “As a matter of fact, I’ve had pretty rough sledding ever since I got over here, and that’s more than a year ago. I haven’t had any leave—they seem to have overlooked me when they were passing out the trips to Paris—and I’ve been working my head off when I wasn’t in the line on active duty. And now finally, to top off with, we have this week up front.” “Where are you from?” asked Bulger. “Texas,” replied the youth. “Yes, sir, I was teaching school down there when we got into this war. I had a mother dependent on me, and while I wanted to go and do my bit I thought it better on my mother’s account that I should wait until the draft took me. But while I was trying to decide Senator Morris Sheppard came to our town and made a recruiting speech. He said it was high time we were satisfying our national honor. Well, sir, that phrase hit me right where I lived. The next day I went in as a volunteer, and after a spell I got a commission—and here I am. “Major, I don’t regret having done what I did do. If it was to do over again I reckon I wouldn’t hesitate. But, Major, as I look back on what I’ve gone through with ever since I landed, I don’t mind telling you, in strict confidence, that my national honor is dern near satisfied!” § 63 Absolutely Bored by the Whole Thing A youth in southeastern Missouri became involved in legal proceedings as the result of the mysterious disappearance of a neighbor’s mare and the upshot was that a jury went so far as to find him guilty of horse-stealing and the judge gave him a sentence of five years at hard labor. A friend of mine defended him at his trial.