=Mjojlo Milkovich=, of San Francisco, Cal., a professional boxer, left the Golden West with $6,000 in his pocket and an elaborate wardrobe. He was torpedoed in the “Brindisti” and, after five hours in the water, reached shore, naked as the day he was born. At Corfu, Greece, he joined the French Army, was wounded on the Bulgarian front and tended in the Scottish Woman’s Hospital at Salonica. After his recovery he went direct to the front, and, again severely wounded, was sent to France. At quarters one day he accosted me: “What, you understand English?” “Yes.” “Are you an American?” “Yes.” “So am I,—can’t speak a word of French.” The three main cords of his leg were severed by shell splinters. He chafed at the slow hospital life, and, every second day, he pounded the doctors on the back. “Why don’t you let me go back to America? You have got my leg, you know I can never march again. Why don’t you let me go home?” He was decorated with the Croix de Guerre, with the following citation: “A very good soldier, seriously wounded, advancing resolutely to attack a village very strongly fortified.” I asked him what he saw down in the Balkans. “I saw enough—so that I’ll never forget it.” “Well what did you see?” “I saw enough to make me sick.” “Well, what did you see?” “I saw boys seven and eight years old with throats cut.” “How many did you see?” “Seven or eight at least.” “What else?” “I saw young girls who tried to protect themselves with faces streaked with knife wounds—some had their noses cut off.” “What else did you see?” “I saw old women laying in corners dying of hunger—I saw others out in the fields eating grass.” =Milton Wright=, an American citizen, born of American parents, went from Philadelphia to France on a four-masted ship. On shore, without a passport, was arrested by the gendarmes, who communicated with his captain, who replied: “We don’t want him. He is a German spy.” So he was in prison four or five months. He was then told he could go into the Foreign Legion for the period of the war. He did not understand, as he could not speak French. The French officials did not speak English. He was signed up for five years. The skipper owed him for several weeks’ wages. His going left an opening to take back Frenchmen who would give thousands of dollars to get away and escape military service. Wright was an innocent, honest fellow, a victim of circumstances. But he felt he was wronged and would not drill. Finally, after being worried almost crazy, he was given a railroad ticket to Boulogne, and mustered out. =James Ralph Doolittle=, of New York, started in the ambulance. He found it too slow for a live man, so he joined the Foreign Legion. He was decorated with the Croix de Guerre, with palm. He was a splendid fellow, good soldier and a gentleman. He was three times wounded. The last time he dropped 600 feet, breaking an ankle and seriously disfiguring his face. He passed his convalescence in America, November, 1917.