For a couple of kilos we hiked along the road on top of the ridge. It had already been repaired roughly, and all sorts of traffic was passing over it. Once it had been bordered with trees, set at regular intervals, like most self respecting French roads. Now only a shattered, blasted stump stood here and there. A few men began to straggle from the outfits ahead, but “B” Co. stuck to it gamely. On that day not a man fell out. Now we drew near a large barbed wire enclosure filled with men. It was a P. W. pen, where prisoners were collected on their way to the rear. A couple of detachments of them were going in as we came by. We turned off here to the left, toward the front. About a kilo down this road we hit a traffic jam--a regular one. This road was badly cut up, and poor road discipline soon did the rest. Some truck or ambulance had tried to pass another, and both had stalled. Others, arriving from both directions, instead of lining up behind on the right of the road, pressed up as far as they could go, until the road was so completely jammed that even we on foot could not get through. Belts of barbed wire that ran up to the road on either side prevented us from going around. So there we were. It was a most cosmopolitan collection. French 75’s, Ford ambulances, a general’s Cadillac, rubbed shoulders with lumbering lorries, sturdy steel ammunition Quads, and limbers. A French transport wagon driver cracked his long whip and argued volubly with the chauffeur of a tank, who spat and regarded him contemplatively. Field kitchens, huddled in the jam, held the food that was so desperately needed up front. At last a Colonel of Marines blew in from somewhere, and plunged into the mess. He got it thinned out enough for us to filter through on the outskirts. And then--Glory be--we turned off the road into an open space, with no barbed wire and comparatively few shell holes. Here we found part of the 312th Inf., and the battalion stacked arms and fell out. We slipped off our packs, and fell to on monkey meat and hard bread with a will. The sun had come out, and we lay around and soon got warm and dry, and felt nearly human again. All too soon we fell in, and set off again. We threaded our way across the jam--now nearly as bad as ever--and spent the afternoon drifting down a little valley at right angles to the road we had just left. Nobody seemed to know just where we were going, or why. We heard later that a jumbled order somewhere between Division and Brigade Hdqs. had caused us to spend this day in a wild goose chase. The Colonel and Regt’l Hdq. had not been seen since the morning. We hiked a few hundred yards, waited awhile, then moved on a bit again. We passed, and were in turn passed by artillery, supply trains, infantry. We sweated and chafed under our burdens, and wondered what t’ell, but supposed it was all part of the game.