At 7:00 A. M. Monday, May 5th, “B” Company “fell in” in front of the Abbaye with full equipment, and at eight o’clock, with the command: SQUADS RIGHT, MARCH, moved out with the remaining troops, from the town that had been our home for nearly half a year, and our long journey homeward had at last really begun. By easy marches we reached Les Laumes-Alesia Station at 10:00 A. M., where we were given a big dinner by the American Red Cross, consisting of a good beef stew, bread, jam, coffee (with both milk and sugar in it), apple sauce, cigarettes and candy, which was followed by hot chocolate and cakes given to us by pretty Y. M. C. A. girls. At 12:30 P. M. we entrained in American “60 Hommes-20 Chevaux,” which we had lined with bed sacks filled with straw and about thirty-five men to a car, which proved the most comfortable ride we had had since our arrival in Europe nearly a year previous. We made several stops to get coffee or warmed corned beef. The trip lasted about 42 hours, arriving at St. Jean Station, Bordeaux, at 4:00 A. M. May 7th, from which we marched to the “Entrance Camp,” reaching there at 9:00 A. M. and immediately having breakfast served. The men were kept pretty busy during the day on various details, and the following morning, May 8th, we left this camp and marched about a mile to the “Permanent Camp.” The memory of this camp will probably remain with most of us by reason of the “MILL,” which was the first thing to which we were introduced and which consumed most of the conversation during our stay here. The MILL was well named in every respect. First we were marched into a “hangar” very similar to those used to house air planes. This had a dirt floor and after unslinging packs the men filed along one side of the hangar leaving their rifles in a heap, then filed back to their packs. Next they took their blankets which had been rolled together before leaving the Entrance Camp, and threw them in a pile. Next, everything the soldier carried was placed in his shelter half and carried thru a wicket gate, by which stood a long desk behind which were several men. The first asked your name and army serial number, which he wrote on two slips of paper which you had to sign. This seemed quite natural because no one knew what they were signing, and if anyone should stop to ask he would be informed that he would learn that in due time, a statement which no one doubted because no one thought any more about that phase of it, probably for the reason that about one-tenth of a doughboy’s time is spent in signing papers he does not know anything about, the same being part of his military training.