We receive the one sou a day, which, in addition to allowances to wife, if any, and to children, if any, is the wage of a French _poilu_. We draw, as has already been mentioned, an ordinary soldier's rations: plenty of nourishing but rather solid bread, which, with the date of its baking stamped upon it, comes in big round loaves that we hold against our chest and cut with our pocket knife in true _poilu_ fashion; rice or potatoes, generally rice; coffee, sugar, salt, and sometimes fresh meat, but ordinarily canned beef, called by the French private _singe_, or monkey meat. At our own request we get the cash equivalent of our wine and tobacco allowances, and this is used to help defray the expenses of having our food cooked and served in the best hotel the town offers. But with these exceptions--French tobacco especially may be put in the category of acquired tastes--we take and eat everything that is given to us with a very good grace. And although it is possible, especially at Saint-Maurice, to add variously and cheaply to this diet at one's own expense, it probably is a fact that those of the Section who, in a spirit of "playing the game" all the way through, have stuck to the rations weigh more and feel better than when they first took the field, in spite of the constant drenchings one gets and the stretches of work without sleep. The hours of our meals--served by the untiring, red-cheeked Fanny--are a little more American than military for those taking their turn on the reserve list "at home." But Mr. Hill's rule requires military punctuality on penalty of washing the dirtiest car in the square. This is also the punishment inflicted upon any one who does not get his car properly ready for morning inspection, who is not in his room by nine o'clock, who has any trouble on the road from an insufficient supply of "gas" or oil, who is tardy in handing in reports, or breaks in any way the rules from time to time posted in the mess-room. "In a word, you are military and not military, but I am going to pay you the greatest compliment in my power, by treating you as I would any French soldiers under my command," the Commandant in charge of the Automobile Service of the army to which we are attached said to us on one occasion. And it has been the clear purpose of our two chiefs--first Mr. Lawrence and now Mr. Hill--to live up to the responsibilities of that compliment. This is mainly done by example and through the force of a very real _esprit de corps_, but washing another man's car has been found a useful daily help for daily disciplinary needs.