The General didn’t have any more faith in Chilblaines, for he had him assigned to temporary duty at Intelligence. Of course, he couldn’t be of any help over there—no more help there than he was to the General—but the General wouldn’t think of intrusting any, even very routine, inspections to him and he had to do something with him. It was the same as a leave of absence. Maybe we’d have the laugh on Chilblaines, though, for they were liable to put him to work over there, not because he was a good man, but because, when good officers are scarce, any officer at all must do. And good officers were scarce just now, due to the heavy activity all over the A.E.F. —3— I arranged to have flowers sent out to the General every day during his stay at the hospital. I didn’t tell Ben a word about the flowers, but next morning when we visited the General to pay our respects and see if there was anything we could do to make him more comfortable, the nurse told Ben the flowers had come from a florist’s and that the card had an enlisted man’s name on it. I might have known it. As soon as we were outside again, he began. “Who in hell ever heard of enlisted men takin’ flowers to a General?” he demanded in disgust. “’Course we want the Gen. to be comfortable and happy—but let him stay there! We don’t want him to get well too fast—the longer he stays the more time we have for enjoyin’ the sights of this beautiful city!” “Oh, we’ll have plenty of time,” I reassured him. “Don’t make no difference,” he insisted. “Nobody ever heard of an enlisted man sendin’ flowers to a General! You must be crazy.... But what the hell do I care—it’s your funeral!” I had to laugh. “Now what the hell are ya laughin’ at?” he demanded. “’Course I gotta admit that some o’ the things you do sure are funny! Funny as hell! Sometimes ya act just like a woman!” I continued to laugh at him, and it got his goat. “What the hell are ya laughin’ at, ya little shrimp?” he exploded. “I’m the one that oughta laugh—I oughta laugh at you fer bein’ such a damn fool as to send flowers to a General! The joke’s on you, ya poor toad!” And he started to laugh. Well, when he laughed, I had to laugh some more, and the more I laughed the harder he laughed. It developed into a contest and I was gasping for breath. Finally he stopped long enough to say, “By Gosh, Leony, ya must have a good sense o’ humor to be able to laugh at a joke on yerself!” And he burst into a guffaw again. I was doubled up by this time, but I managed to gasp out, “I’m not laughing at that, you big goof! I’m laughing because I put on all the cards to go with those flowers, “‘From Private Garlotz and Sergeant Canwick, with hopes for a speedy recovery.’ Now laugh that off!” “What!” he demanded. I repeated the text of the cards and added, “And I ordered flowers to be delivered every morning for the next ten days!” “O God Almighty!” he groaned.