You get so you love them if you stay around them awhile. They're so happy and cheerful, but when there's business to be done you can't put nothing over on them! I won't never forget that old fellow and his blind mare. Gee! How he did hate to part from her! But that didn't stop him from doing it. But then that's Frenchies for you--nothing is too much. . . ! COMMANDER WOODMAN SPEAKS: [Illustration: "General Byng"--Friend and mascot of the U.S.S. "Recruit."] THE STUFF HEROES ARE MADE OF HONOR MEDAL FOR U. S. SAILOR FIRST AWARD GOES TO OHIO MAN WHO SAVED BALLOON PILOT WASHINGTON, Nov. 12.--The first naval medal of honor awarded during the present war was announced by Secretary Daniels to-day as the reward of Dennis O'Hara, who rescued the pilot of a kite balloon which was struck by a squall in the submarine zone. The balloon was being used for observation purposes by a United States cruiser. The pilot was saved by O'Hara from the submerged basket of the balloon. When is a hero not a hero? Do you know, if there is any one thing this war has proved to all of us, it is the fact that every man jack of us has a large and totally unsuspected slice of courage tucked away within him somewhere. We never used to think so. We used to suppose that the ability to be brave in the face of death was a great gift granted only to a chosen few. Do you remember wondering how such heroes came to be born as the men of the "Light Brigade," who rode without a quiver straight into the jaws of hell? We read in our history books of Perry and Farragut, or we heard the veterans of the battles of Lake Erie and Mobile Bay tell the stirring tales. I used to suspect that these men, whose names went ringing down the halls of time, were of different stuff somehow--a sort of super-caliber--I never thought to see the day when the greatest deeds of fearlessness, of self-sacrifice, would be performed on the field of honor by the butchers and bakers and candlestick-makers of this country. Take a clerk who has toiled at his desk for ten long years. He is afraid of death because he has time to be, but close up his books and dry his pen and let him join the army or navy--build him up--make his white blood red and send him on a destroyer or order him over the top--afraid of death! not much he isn't!--too intent on launching a depth charge or sniping a Hun to think about it. Besides, once you get used to the idea that every minute may be your last you don't seem to mind it. You rather relax and you don't worry; you obey orders and stand by--and you are determined to be as game as the next fellow when the Great Call comes.