The Red Cross girl who had first taken him in tow and to whom he was now talking did not fully comprehend his remark. Another boy from another Grand Island already was engrossing her attention. But the word "souvenir" registered ever and ever so slightly. "Get me a German," she said laughingly and lightly as she gave him her name, and turned to the boy from the other Grand Island. In a few days it came; a sizable pasteboard box by Uncle Sam's own army parcel post over there in France. The girl opened it quickly. There it all was--the revolver, the helmet, the wallet, with all the German small change, the cigarette case, all the small accouterments of a private in an infantry regiment, even down to the buttons. In the package was a roughly written little note. "I was a-going to send you his ears, too," it read, "only our top sergeant didn't seem to think that ears was a nice thing to send a lady." * * * * * A chapter of this book could easily be confined to the episodes--sometimes discouraging and at other times highly amusing--in the personal histories of the canteen workers, both men and women. There were many times when girls rode eight miles in camions to their work, and many of these girls who were well used to limousines and who knew naught of trucks until they came to France. Often those were the lucky times. For there were the other ones, too, when there was a shortage of camions and a woman must pull on her rubbers and be prepared to walk eight or ten miles with a smile on her face, and after that was done to be on her feet for eight long hours of service. It was a hard test, but the American girls stood it. There were the women in the little out-of-the-way canteens who struggled with coal which "acted like coagulated granite," to quote the words of one of them, and refused to ignite, save by patience and real toil. There were long hours on station platforms feeding men by passing food through car windows because there was not even time for the men to alight and enter the canteens. Moreover, the soldiers had a habit at times of leaving their savings for a canteen girl to send to the folks at home, and although this was not a recognized official part of their jobs, and, in fact, involved a tremendous amount of work, the trust was not refused. The women workers fussed with these and many other errands while the coffee brewed and the chocolate boiled.