In October, 1917, dressed in the French uniform, I was walking up the street near the Grand Central Station, New York. A civilian accosted me in French. We conversed in that language for some time. He worked the third degree, asked about Battalion D, and mentioned several names of men I knew. I turned on him and said, “You must have known Tony Pollet.” The civilian stopped short, finally found his voice, and gasped out, “Pollet?—that’s me!” ----- In the early morning we walked fifteen kilometers to the railroad and waited for the other Americans to arrive. Capdeville found some grease. Sweeney went to a French camp and talked some potatoes from them. So we ate “French fried,” with wine, till the train started for Paris. Dr. Van Vorst was ranking officer, but Morlae and Sweeney sparred for ground. Said Morlae to Delpeshe: “You do that again and I will turn you over to the gendarmes.” Delpesche replied: “Who in hell are you? I am taking no orders from you. I belong to Sergeant Sweeney’s section!” Soubiron had the time of his life. He rode down on the foot-board of the coach. He was determined not to miss the green fields, the lovely flowers and the smiles of the girls, as they wished the Americans “Bon Voyage.” Everything was beautiful after the drab and dirt of the front. On the platform at Paris the two sergeants were still disputing. A petite Parisienne stepped up to Sweeney, saying: “Pardon, Monsieur, you came from near Rheims; did you see anyone from the 97th Regiment on the train?” The 97th had been badly cut up. Sweeney remembered that. In an instant his face changed. He smiled back at the girl and answered: “No, there were no French permissionaires; only Americans were on the train.” Two days later each man was relating his experiences: =The base-ball man from San Francisco=: “Yes, I arrived in Paris without a sou. I saw you fellows scatter in all directions, and did not know what to do with myself. Two French ladies came along and invited me home with them. They paid all my expenses and gave me this five franc note and a sack of food to eat on my way back.” =Percy=: “That New York Sun man, Grundy, found five of us at the Cafe de la Paix. He ordered dinner. It cost him 120 francs. That was the best dinner I ever ate, but, Lord, I wish I had the money it cost!” =Nelson=: “Yes, my patron almost threw a fit when I blew in, but the best of the house was at my service, good bath, clean underclothes—don’t know where they came from, or whom they belonged to. But they insisted on my keeping them.” =Morlae=: “Yes, I was up at the Embassy, saw Frazier and he told me....” =Bob Scanlon=: “My friends were out of town but left word that I should have the best there was. So I went up to Place Pigalle and inquired for a girl I knew, Susie, and they fished out a man six foot high!”