=Dowd=: “Yes, that Frenchman was splendid. When he learned we were Americans he invited us to the banquet given by the American Chamber of Commerce at the Palais d’Arsay. There was just one table of us soldiers of the Legion and two long tables of men from the American Ambulance. The Frenchmen were glad to see us—the Ambulance men did not seem glad at all. “‘How is that,’ said an American visitor, speaking to a well-dressed, manicured doctor, ‘are there many Americans in the Legion?’ “‘I don’t know.’ “‘Well, aren’t there a good many of our boys there?’ “‘There may be, but, of course, WE don’t know them.’” =Idaho Contractor=: “Yes, you fellows can talk about what you ate. When I got over to Place Clichy, it was 9 o’clock. Madame was closing up—all she had left was beans and vinegar. I had had no vinegar for ten months. Beans must be bad for the stomach. My appetite went wrong just the time I needed it most. I did not enjoy myself at all.” =Van Vorst=: “Yes, I went over to Pickpus and saw the American Ambulance. They looked very nice and clean but did not recognize the dirty soldiers from the Legion, but the French officers did.” =Bouligny=: “I missed everything, did not know there was anything doing any place. Thought the 4th was on Sunday; didn’t know they were holding 4th on the 5th.” =Narutz=: “Yes, I had a bully time. Met some old friends at the American Express Company’s office.” =Seeger=: “I heard Sweeney was promoted to a lieutenancy.” =Capdeville=: “What do you think I am carrying this American flag for? Of course, I am going to use it.” =Delpesche=: “What are all you fellows carrying in those packages? You look like a lot of farmers who just received a consignment from Sears-Roebuck.” =King=: “Yes, we bought this dollar stuff cheap, just 98 cents and freight.” CHAPTER IX OUTPOST LIFE In front of Croane, where, in 1814, Frank and Hun fought for mastery, one hundred years later, the same nations again battled. The elaborate, naturally drained trench system of to-day was not. Instead of the horizon blue, the French soldier wore the old red pantaloons and dark blue coat. Occasionally new blue uniforms were sent to the front, which, wet a couple of times—the new dyes not holding—quickly become drab. Torn clothes, ripped, crawling through barbed wire, are held together by finer wires. New York Heralds and Daily Mails wrapped around socks to help keep in the heat, warm not alone the cockles of the heart, but the soles of the feet. No smoking cook-kitchen, with steaming kettles filled with tasty food followed our ranks on march. Soup dishes and kettles are carried on knapsack, as in the days of Napoleon. At the end of a long march, at bivouac time, if the commissary has not made connection weary soldiers throw their kettles away. If caught, eight days in prison, they welcome as relief.