He talked with all the boys he met. The one big question that they put to him was, “Know when we go home, Jimmy?” But that was a query beyond his power to answer. A few hinted that the division might be sent into Germany as a part of the Army of Occupation. These suggestions were routed by indignant denial of such a possibility. “They’ll never send this outfit to Germany. We’re slated for home. Let them guys that just got over here take a crack at that stuff,” snapped Pop Rigney. Later, after they had mess, Jimmy and Sammy started cross-country for Thierville so that they might pass O. D.’s grave and make a picture of it. Jimmy found the mound of earth that covered the mortal remains of his pal, and after arranging the helmet on the crude little cross he photographed the grave and walked away with the remark, “O. D. was sure one white man, Sammy.” They continued in silence until the outskirts of Verdun were reached. “Gee! there’s something goin’ on in town,” declared Sammy. The sound of pealing bells and stirring music reached their ears. They quickened their step. Cheering and shouts sounded above the music. A bearded poilu came tearing out of a ruined house, waving a bottle over his head. [Illustration: “A BEARDED POILU CAME TEARING OUT OF A RUINED HOUSE, WAVING A BOTTLE OVER HIS HEAD”] “_Finee! La guerre finee!_” he shouted, and offered them the bottle. They drank and shouted back: “_Oui. Finee._ Hurrah!” The grizzled poilu and the two Americans sallied down the narrow street to locate the music. Progress became difficult after the trio reached one of the main streets. Soldiers—for there were very few civilians residing in the battered remnants of Verdun—piled out of every doorway and alley, most of them singing and shouting. Finally, after stopping to drink the success of the armistice with at least ten different parties of poilus and Yanks, Jimmy, Sammy, and their new friend found themselves in the square where a parade was forming. A hastily organized band crashed out the stirring music of “Quand Madelon.” The mob cheered itself into action and started off behind the band. Flags, mostly American, waved above the surging crowds. Another band, half American and half French, swung into the square playing the “Marseillaise.” Then “The Star-Spangled Banner” brought a thunderous volley of applause. “_La guerre c’est finie_,” was the predominating cry. “_Vivent les Américains!_” was the second in strength. Most of the demonstrations came from the throats of the French whose natural dramatic and emotional temperament responded to the occasion more quickly than did the less demonstrative make-ups of the Yankee soldiers. But it was only natural that the French should have indulged in greater feelings and demonstrations than their brothers in arms, the Americans, for they had borne the yoke of war years longer. It was wonderful to see the worn lines on veteran poilu faces as their sternness relaxed in smiles and laughs.