Some of our younger officers, only a few, I was assured, didn’t believe at first that a simple private soldier would dare arrest them for the offense of having a “good time.” Two of these very new lieutenants tested it out in Paris once. They annexed a pair of women of the underworld and started out to find whatever may be left of the night life of the French capital. What was their indignation when a slim youth of about twenty-three, wearing the uniform of a private, with the sole addition of a brassard marked A. P. M., walked up to them, saluted and stepped politely between them and the open door of the taxi-cab. “Beg pardon, sirs,” he said courteously, “I am obliged to remind you that you are transgressing the provisions of section ---- of regulation ---- of orders ---- relating to associations with women. I shall have to request you to accompany me to headquarters.” The two very new young officers declined the invitation, first with indignation, then with good-natured appeals to the soldier’s sporting blood. The soldier remained adamant, and then one of the officers, getting genuinely angry, thrust his fist under the man’s nose. “What would you do if I were to push your face in and go on my way?” The soldier policeman promptly drew his automatic and thrust it under the lieutenant’s nose. “I would do my duty, sir,” he replied, still courteously. But he was an American and couldn’t hold in any longer. “By God,” he exclaimed, “I wish you’d try it on. You’re the kind of an officer the American army could afford to lose suddenly.” That settled it. The two officers went to headquarters, and they were punished. The one that attempted to frighten the young policeman got sent back to the United States. The men at headquarters agreed with the policeman that the United States army could afford to lose a man like that. The military policeman, who is found all over our zone in France, does not wear blue clothes and a peaked cap. Neither does he carry a baton. He wears his soldier uniform and a white arm band on which the letters A. P. M., assistant provost marshal, appear in letters of red. He wears a belt and a pistol and he carries plenty of ammunition with him. He is a part of a service which has at its head General Allaire, chief provost marshal of the army, one of General Pershing’s staff. General Allaire lives at the sequestered little town which houses the rest of the staff. Under him are many officers who command the regiments of assistant provost marshals, and they are held responsible for the order and good conduct of the army.