It was magnificent, but it was not war. Especially with the aeroplanes overhead. Those German aeroplanes—they circled over our troops in line, over our men in the rear. Colonel McCoy sent word to inquire about the aeroplanes that were promised us. General Lenihan wanted to know. General Menoher sent orders; entreated. But the only ones we could see had the black Maltese cross—the same old story. There was but one thing to do if we would prevent a recurrence of the catastrophe which had already occurred at the hospital in that same square. And that was to prevent the men from gathering there. The kitchen was moved to a less exposed spot. This was done to draw the men away from the square and not from any sense of timidity on the part of its operatives. On the contrary they had made a bold attempt to get that kitchen up to the front line. On the night of July 29th the bold Jim Collintine had hitched his trusty mules to the beloved goulash wagon and driven it right up to the Ourcq. When they found they could not cross, the Mess Sergeant and cooks unloaded its contents for the men in line. Mooney of Company A tried the same thing, and, when the river stopped him, sent the food up on litters. One of the officers whose duties kept him near the hospital appointed himself as Police Officer in addition to his other duties, to keep the men under cover. On the second day of the fight he saw a tousled looking soldier without hat or rifle coming from a barn. “What outfit do you belong to?” “I belong to the 165th Infantry, sir.” “What are you doing here?” “I came in last night with an ammunition detail and we got scattered under shell fire and I crawled into the barn.” “Yes, you slept there all night and let the other fellows do your work. You must be a new man. But I see you have a service stripe.” “Well, I am new in the regiment and I don’t belong in this game. I was in the S. O. S. and they sent me up here as a replacement after I got into the hospital.” “Where is your rifle.” “I lost it and it ain’t no good to me anyway cause I don’t know anything about it, and I can’t see good anyway.” The situation was too much for the officer and, like everyone else in emergency, his mind turned to Captain Walsh. “Go down that road about forty yards and you will see a farm yard with soldiers in it and ask for Captain Walsh. Tell him I sent you and tell him the story you gave me.” The hatless soldier obeyed very willingly because the street led towards the rear. An hour later Captain Mike breezed into the square and came over to the officer with the demand, “Who was that bird you sent me?” “What did you do with him, Mike?”