Upon my return from my permission, I had found my regiment occupying a rest sector, where they had been for nearly two weeks. Here, let me explain, that under prevailing conditions in the great war, a battle lasts sometimes for several weeks, and no troops can remain for that time in line of battle. They must be sent for rest at intervals, to more quiet sectors, to recuperate and reorganize. Our division was now, after more than two weeks’ rest, again ready for active service; though Sam Jenkins and others attempted to explain that hunting cooties was active duty enough for any one. The marching and fighting that followed is hard to describe; for we were now a part of a great whole, whose operations no one man could see or understand fully. When a battle stretches out on a front of fifty or sixty miles or more, a single participant, even though he be a captain or a general, can not know much more about it than what he sees. We had been moved from place to place for several days; sometimes by marching and sometimes by auto trucks. We were now on the march. I was in my place, having left my horse as too good a target when near the enemy’s snipers moving along a pathway that skirted a forest. The rising sun reflected from the helmets of the men who came tramping wearily but cheerfully--for they had been marching for over twenty hours with little sleep--with prospects now of both rest and sleep. When the order, “In place, rest,” came, and the brave fellows had sat down to eat, though they were hungry, some of them got to napping, in spite of it. It was before daylight, when orders came to leave even their light packs behind--which shows what a hurry they were in--for a forced march. Over strange roads, in a strange country, to a destination we knew not of--possibly “to that bourne from which no traveler returns,” we marched on all that day. We met regiments of _poilus_ who hugged us and held our hands, joyfully telling us that there was to be a big advance on the Boches lines, and that we were to be “in it” with them. We got a little more sleep and chow, then were loaded into trucks, and buzzed off--heaven knew where--we didn’t! We met still other Frenchies, who told us there was to be a big drive on a thirty-five mile front. We laughed incredulously; but began to believe, when we caught sight of a lot of tanks rumbling and waddling along in a stubborn manner, as though they meant business. Our men roared out, “Hooray! there’s going to be another dance and we are invited!”