"There was to be seen on the streets of St. Nazaire that day some representative black Americans, who had also landed in that historical first contingent. There was a strange thing about these Negroes. It will be remembered that in the early stages of our participation in the war it had been found that there was hardly sufficient khaki cloth to provide uniforms for all of our soldiers. That had been the case with these American negro soldiers. "But somewhere down in Washington, somehow or other, someone resurrected an old, large heavy iron key and this, inserted into an ancient rusty lock, had opened some long forgotten door in one of the Government arsenals. There were revealed old dust-covered bundles wrapped up in newspapers, yellow with age, and when these wrappings of the past were removed, there were seen the uniforms of old Union blue that had been laid away back in '65--uniforms that had been worn by men who fought and bled and died to save the Union, and ultimately free those early 'Black Americans'. "And here on this foreign shore, on this day in June more than half a century later, the sons and grandsons of those same freed slaves wore those same uniforms of Union blue as they landed in France to fight for a newer freedom; freedom for the white man no less than themselves, throughout all the earth. "Some of these Negroes were stevedores from the lower Mississippi levees; who sang as they worked in their white army undershirts, across the chest of which were penciled in blue and red, strange mystic devices, religious phrases and other signs, calculated to contribute the charm of safety to the running of the submarine blockade. "Two of these American Negroes, walking up the main street of St. Nazaire, saw on the other side of the thoroughfare a brother of color wearing the lighter blue uniform of a French soldier. This French Negro was a colonial black from the north of Africa and of course had spoken nothing but French from the day he was born. One of the American Negroes crossed the street and accosted him. "'Looka here, boy', he inquired good-naturedly, 'what can you all tell me about this here wah?' "'Comment, monsieur?' responded the non-understanding French black, and followed the rejoinder with a torrent of excited French. "The American Negro's mouth fell open. For a minute he looked startled, and then he bulged one large round eye suspiciously at the French black while he inwardly debated on the possibility that he had become color-blind. Having reassured himself, however, that his vision was not at fault, he made a sudden decision and started on a new tack.