“Everything!” said the captain. “It doesn’t fit, it sounds childish, and we just naturally hate it.” We asked him whether there was an acceptable substitute. “I don’t know of any,” he said. “In due time we’ll wish one on ourselves that will have pep and sound real. Meanwhile call us Julias, Howards--anything you like, except Sammies.” We promised to do our best for him, and he was grateful enough to invite us to his mess for lunch. This young man--he looks about twenty-nine--hasn’t been to his home, somewhere out West, since he left West Point, six years ago. He hasn’t seen a show in six years. Mexico and the Philippines have kept him busy. His promotion from lieutenant to captain is very recent, and he still wears only one stripe. “I suppose I’ll be a major before I get the other,” he said. “A man can hardly keep up with his rank these days.” He called our attention to the physical condition of his men. “You’ve got to be in the pink to go through those exercises without yelling for help,” he said. “These fellas couldn’t have done it a month ago. Now they seldom get tired, though the hours are pretty stiff. To-day is a cinch. It’s pay-day, and there’s a muster soon after lunch. So most of us will get a half holiday and nobody’ll object.” The captain blew his whistle to indicate that the game was over. His boys quit happily, and we left him after agreeing to show up at his billet in time for lunch. “We have a fairly good cook,” he promised. “But what is much more important, we have a beautiful young lady to wait on us.” Our next stop was at a trench school. Americans, under French tutelage, had constructed a perfect--so we were told--system of ditches and entanglements, and had shown aptitude in learning the offensive and defensive points of this pleasant method of warfare. They were now engaged in bomb-throwing drill. Some of them had tried the baseball throw, but had found the grenades too heavy. Several crooked-arm throws would do things to a person’s elbow. But, according to the officers, the youngsters had done very well with the bowling motion and had surprised the French with their accuracy. This officer, another captain, spoke in complimentary terms of the French assistance. “They’ve been more than diligent with us,” said he. “They’ve never shown impatience when we failed to grab their point, but have gone over it and over it till we’ve learned it to suit them. The difference in languages makes it hard sometimes to get what they’re after, but they eventually manage to make themselves understood. The only fault I have to find with them,” he confided, “is that they don’t give us credit for knowing anything at all. They tell us this thing’s a rifle, and the thing on the end of it is a bayonet, and so forth. And one of them showed me a barbed-wire entanglement one day, and told me what it was for. I’d always been under the mistaken impression that it was used for bed-clothes.”