Jot stood for a moment, as though in thought, and then said, “It will do no harm to tell you that I can speak a little German which I learned from my father and his people. The first words I ever spoke were German; but mother didn’t like it.” Here he stopped as though he had already said too much, then, putting his hands affectionately on my shoulders, added, “Does it really make any difference to you, David, who my father was, when you know me so well?” And I knew that it would be useless to ask him further questions on that subject. We soon began to meet ships and fishing craft, mine sweepers, and tankers, which showed that we were nearing the coast. Next came a point of land like a cloud on the horizon, and then the top of a lighthouse appeared. Was it France or England? It was France. We learned that we were the first American transport to land at this port. Entering a narrow channel which widened out into a broad harbor, we were safe in France! “No one lands until ordered to do so by the commander of the port,” was the next order. It was not until the next day that the colonel, and some other officers were ordered ashore to see the port commodore; then, after some more waiting, we were told to get ready for landing. Shortly after, we saw the lighters coming up on which we were to disembark. CHAPTER VI IN BEAUTIFUL FRANCE Our first view of the land we had come to rescue was not prepossessing. Some men were standing on the sidewalks, as we marched through the narrow street ankle deep in mud. “Are we in France, or in the mud?” facetiously queried one soldier. As we marched through the narrow streets there was much cheering--not like American cheers, long drawn out, but sharp and not all together. There were some personal allusions in English. “I give you a kees;” said a girl. “You big fine Americans!” The salutations were as unlike our home calls as were the city and its buildings. The buildings were crowded together as though land were scarce, they were of stone with carvings and copper ornaments, which even the soldier would notice, they were so fine. We wanted to break loose and see France and talk to the people, but discipline held us in line. To men who had been confined for three weeks in narrow, stifling ship quarters, the air was invigorating. We reached the station on schedule time, and were embarked on third class cars, a squad of eight men to a compartment. No dogs were allowed, but I got Muddy in all the same, the guard taking pains not to see him. To Americans, accustomed to our large coaches, these little box-like cars seemed like toys. “Sho!” said Sam, “do they intend to give us one apiece? They are like baby carriages!” They were, however, fairly comfortable, but after jolting along for several hours, when the train stopped, naturally every one wanted to get out. Our officers had a full-sized man’s job to get them back again on time.