All turned out to see them pass, and as they swung up the road, Lt. Foulkes, in an inspired moment, detailed Supply Sgt. Levy to bring ’em back for “B” Co. In five minutes the pipes returned, with Joe marching at their head twirling the drum major’s baton. They turned into the courtyard, and were taken into our midst with a mighty burst of cheers, skirling of pipes, and thunder of the drums. That was a scene I shall never forget--a wonderful setting for a musical comedy. The dark courtyard, fitfully illumined by the glare of a few lanterns and torches--the crowd of olive drab figures around the Scotties in their kilts, with one in the center doing a Highland fling. The visitors were already fortified, but additional liquid refreshments were hastily procured for them, and a testimonial taken up in the way of a collection. In the meantime the drummer, well on the shady side of sober, rendered several ballads. We reciprocated with Irish songs by Peter and others, and a breakdown by Kitson. It was well on towards midnight when they left; and next morning the Major wanted to know “what the hell was B Company up to last night?” Another pleasant time was had by all one day while I was at the front. Someone at staff hdq. felt an idle curiosity to see how fast the division could turn out, if it had to. Accordingly the order went forth--march at 2:00 P. M. Thinking the Boches had broken through and we were “for it,” there was a mad scurry and scramble; the kitchen pulled to pieces; rations hastily issued; and the company, under Lt. Dunn, reported to the Brunembert road about half an hour after the time set, and about two hours sooner than had seemed possible that morning. After fussing about a bit, the companies were marched back to their hastily abandoned billets. All the time we were in the English area, rations were short. The British ration must have been much smaller than ours, or else there was a hitch somewhere. Our men were used to three square meals a day. The British only had porridge, tea and bread and jam for breakfast; a regular meal--stew or meat and vegetables--in the middle of the day, and tea and bread and cheese at night. This didn’t go far to relieve the aching void that every American soldier cherishes under his belt. We spent thousands of francs from the company fund buying potatoes and whatever else we could to eke out the ration. But even so, there was never any difficulty in following the advice of those doctors who say to stop eating while you still feel hungry. July 14th was Bastile Day. We were turned out for a ceremony to celebrate it. The ceremony consisted of marching to Brunembert in the rain, squads left, right dress, present arms, order arms, squads left, and hike back in the rain. I can’t say my bosom dilated with enthusiasm, nor did the spectators--a dozen children, two estaminet keepers and the usual “orangee” girls--emit any rousing cheers.