When it was first proposed by the Transportation Department that locomotives should be shipped to Europe without being knocked down, the Ship-Building Board vigorously protested. There were no ships in existence, the board said, which could stand up under such an immense concentrated load. But the Engineers proved that they knew more about the strength of ships than did the ship-builders, and the locomotives—533 in all—were run out onto the wharves on their own wheels, picked up as easily as though they were baby-carriages by the giant gantry cranes, deposited in the hold—35 to a ship—together with their tenders, packed in baled hay, and upon arrival at the French ports were lifted out by the same method, lowered gently onto the rails, and a few hours later rolled off for the front under their own steam. The success with which the Engineers utilized business methods and revised specifications to meet American manufacturing conditions is strikingly illustrated by the fact that the cost of these locomotives, for which the French had been paying $51,000 each, was brought down to $37,000, thus saving to the American taxpayer some seven millions of dollars—a very tidy sum. And, apropos of rolling-stock, here is a bit of secret history hitherto unpublished. When Villa’s raiders were threatening to destroy the railway-lines paralleling the Mexican border, the Engineer Corps designed and built a number of self-propelling armored railway-cars armed with 3-inch rifles, machine-guns, and search-lights. When the German submarines began their piratical operations along the Atlantic seaboard in the spring of 1918, these moving fortresses were secretly rushed up from the Rio Grande in order to afford protection to the undefended Jersey coast towns. It was well for the U-boat commanders that they did not attempt to shell Long Branch and Atlantic City as they shelled Scarborough and Broadstairs. If they had, the Engineers and their armored cars would have given them the surprise of their lives. * * * * *