In an army like France's, one finds many odd birds among the simple soldiers. I was playing "shinny" (we introduced it and it has become very popular in our section) the other evening, and, when a soldier took off his coat, four thousand francs in bills dropped out of the breast pocket. Another evening, in a café, a roughly dressed soldier stood up to give us a bit of music--and for an hour the world seemed to stand still while one of the greatest violinists of France (two years at the front, twice wounded, Croix de Guerre, with several citations) made us forget that anything existed except a flood of clear throbbing sound. It was a rough, drinking crowd--a moment before there had been a pandemonium of loud voices and clattering plates; but for an hour the listeners were still as death--not a whisper, not even a hand-clap of applause. It was, I think, the finest tribute I ever saw paid a musician. And so it goes: one never knows what variety of man is hidden beneath the uniform of faded horizon-blue. _June 17, 1917_ At last I am free to sit down quietly for a letter to you. It has been a week of rather frenzied running about--passing examinations, and the like. I arrived here in the expectation of taking the first boat, crossing the continent, and seeing you. A talk with some American officers changed the whole aspect of affairs and showed me that, if I was to be of any use, my job was to remain here. At home, it seems, men are a drug on the market--the rub is to train them and fit them in. Here, on the other hand, they fairly welcome healthy young men--and will train us and put us where we will do the most good, with the least possible delay. Don't let yourself think that flying over here is unduly hazardous--a skillful pilot (as I hope to be) has as good a chance of living to a ripe old age as his comrades in the infantry. Numbers of them have been at it since 1914. The school where I hope to be is the finest in the world, and the machines are beyond praise. Since writing the above, I have received my papers of acceptance in the Foreign Legion, conditional on passing the French physical tests. I have already passed the tests of the Franco-American Committee. Before cabling I took all the tests. _Later_ I have passed the French examination and am to leave for the school in a day or two. I have been lucky! It was interesting at the Paris recruiting office. I stood in line with dozens of other recruits for the Foreign Legion--all of us naked as so many fish, in the dirty corridor, waiting our turns. Each man had a number: mine was seven--lucky, I think! Finally the orderly shouted, "Numéro sept," and I separated myself from my jolly polyglot neighbors, marched to the door, did a demi-tour à gauche, and came to attention before a colonel, two captains, and a sergeant.