I told him that our losses by their submarines had not been nearly so great as their losses by their own submarines. This was Greek to him, so he asked me what I meant, and I explained to him that while their submarines were causing us some damage all right, and a lot of worry, yet they were also responsible for our being in France and that if the American Army had not already caused them all the losses and all the worry they could possibly withstand that it soon would. He was very anxious to impress upon us that he believed that the policy of Von Tirpitz was all wrong and he admitted that Germany realized that she could not win with America in the war. “To Germany,” he said, “it is now a proposition of defense.” Then Davis calmly proceeded to tell him that if Germany ever wanted to save herself she had better throw up her hands quick, because in 1920 the Allies were certainly going to give her a walloping blow from Switzerland to the sea. “Ah,” he said, “1920 is a long way off. How many Americans will you have here in 1920?” I looked at Davis, hesitated a second as if calculating, then said, “Let’s see—we have three million five hundred thousand here now; we ought to have seven million by that time.” Then I assumed a sheepish-looking attitude, as if I had said something which should have been kept secret. He looked at me a moment in amazement, then laughingly said: “You are joking. You have not three million five hundred thousand here now.” I nodded my head affirmatively, while Davis chirped up, “That’s right.” “In France?” he gasped. “Yes, in France,” I repeated. “Oh, no. It is not possible. How do you know?” he exclaimed. With a perfectly straight face I told him that the only way I knew was that every man who came across was given a number as he sailed, and that I had been in France only two weeks, and that my number was 3,246,807, and I was quite sure that the difference had been made up. If he had asked me to repeat those figures I couldn’t have done it to save my life. He looked thoughtfully at the floor, which gave Davis and me the opportunity to smile and wink at our little joke. “How long do you think the war will last?” I bowed my head and rubbed along my temples as if in deep thought, then suddenly looking up at him as if some muse had given me a correct solution of the problem, I told him that while it was very hard to tell accurately, most Americans felt that it would be not less than three years and not over five. The officer threw back his hands in utter horror like a spinster at her first view of a t. b. m. production. “Three years more of this Hell?” he said. “Ugh! It will be not more than three months.” I agreed with him entirely, although I did not say so. “Three months?” I said in surprise. “Do you think you will win this war in three months?”