The next man took the “dog tags” and asked your name and number and compared your answer with the tags; if they agreed all well and good, if they disagreed something was checked on the slip of paper you had signed and you began to wonder how many checks you would get and if each check meant an additional month in France, or an extra tour of K. P. The next man gave you a Red Cross bag which often brought a smile because of the name--“American Red Cross” was stamped in ink on a white patch on the bag, otherwise you would have looked for a deduction on the next pay roll. At this time someone in the farthest corner of the building called out a number which sounded like a cell number, but which proved to be nothing more than their manner of ushering you to a certain litter into which you dumped everything you had, from your steel helmet which had just been painted to your last handkerchief which you had failed to wash. The object of this being for the man to see if you had more than he did. If you did not have as much, he handed you a barrack bag and helped you to put all your things into it except such personal things as your pocket book, tooth brush, shaving brush, etc. These you put in the Red Cross bag, then handed your slip of paper to the man who then asked what you had in the barrack bag or on your back. If you guessed right, all right; if you guessed wrong he checked an item on the slip of paper. If you did not like your blouse he would give you a chance to draw again. If your underclothes were too large for you he would give you a chance to draw a larger pair, and so on. After you were all out of breath talking to this man, you hung your Red Cross Bag around your neck, threw your Barrack Bag on your shoulder and marched out of the door across a wood pile to another building in which was another long row of desks, and for a moment you thought you were going to get your discharge papers toote de suite, but these hopes were soon dashed to the ground. An officer handed you your Service Record, which seemed rather a strange thing because the company clerk said that he had it when you asked him the day before you left Flavigny. Struggling along with this in one hand and dragging your barrack bag with the other you passed down the line until you came to a blank file with a typewriter and a man behind it.