“NAPOLEON” was so christened by us because, despite his sparrow-like form and manner, he considers himself the moving spirit of the army in general and of our section in particular. Because he knows nothing about automobiles, he styles himself an expert,—the mere fact that he is assigned as clerk to an ambulance section proves his claim. The one time he had the indiscretion to touch a car, he drove the lieutenant’s around the compound with the emergency brake set—after telling the _sous-chef_ that he had driven cars for twenty years! One of the ambulances goes for _ravitaillement_ every day, carrying “Napoleon,” who disappears into mysterious buildings and returns with still more mysterious edibles, presumably for our delectation. On one trip the carburetor gave trouble and we stopped and cleaned it. While we were working we noticed “Napoleon” industriously turning the lights on and off, pumping the button on the dash. We said nothing, and when we had finished and started the car again he tapped his chest proudly, cocked his head, and said, “_Moi!_” In circumnavigating a large team in the centre of the road later that day I rubbed “Napoleon” off against a horse, and after that he snubbed me on every occasion. * * * * * BEING at the cross-roads, all manner of men and things come through Erize. The never-ending stream of _camions_ passing each other as they go, layers deep with dust and grime, winds on steadily. There is great rivalry between the _camion pelotons_, and each has adopted an insignia painted on the sides of the cars to distinguish it from the others. As there are several hundred _pelotons_ the designs are many, interesting, and reveal much of the inner nature of the _poilu_. Every species of beast and fowl is depicted,—greyhound, stork, swallow, and other types,—as a monkey riding on a shell, a demon with trident pursuing a German, and then perhaps a child’s face, copied no doubt from the locket of one of the men. Soldiers go up cheering wildly, singing and shouting. They return silent, tired, covered with mud, and reduced in numbers. German rifles, bayonets, caps, buttons, cartridges, and other odds and ends are then offered for sale. In August a _poilu_ offered me a German rifle. I was examining it, and admiring the design, when I noticed the maker’s name,—the latest type German rifle had been made in New Jersey, U.S.A.