AN IMMORTAL DIVISION

The record of the Second Division in the World War has been a remarkable one. Doubtless it is well known to each officer and man of the division but, nevertheless, it is deemed appropriate to publish in the first edition of The Indian a brief summary of its heroic deeds and wonderful achievements.

We know the story of how the Second Division, on June 1, 1918, was deployed across the Paris-Metz road, north of the Marne, near Chateau Thierry, on an 18-kilometer front, to stop the victorious advance of the Hun toward Paris. We know that the Second Division not only carried out its mission but that it attacked continuously and relentlessly for over a month, capturing Hill 142, Bouresches, Vaux, and the Bois de Balleau, and taking prisoners from ten German divisions which were thrown into the battle line to stem its advance.

Thus came the turn of the tide. "Thus was the worth of the American soldier as a fighting man established on a scale so high as to have a most important psychological effect on the hard-tested morale of our allies."

Again at Soissons, on July 18 and 19, did this immortal division strike a decisive blow. After a night march of unparalleled difficulty, over an unknown terrain, by roads crowded with traffic, it attacked at dawn, in conjunction with the First American Division and the First French Moroccan Division, the flank of the great enemy salient, drove through his fortified lines to a depth of ten kilometers, capturing over 2,900 prisoners and 85 cannon. Immediately the enemy forces crossed, silently and swiftly, to the north bank of the Marne, and began their retreat to the Vesle.

At the battle of St. Miehel [sic Mihiel] Salient, the Second Division again attacked irresistibly, and its advance through the barbed wire and powerful entrenchments was so rapid that it captured over 3,300 prisoners, 120 cannon, and a vast quantity of other military material. It seized Thiaucourt and Jaulnay, and swept forward to the Jaulnay-Xammes ridge by 2:30 p. m. on September 12. On September 15, it again attacked, advancing its lines in the face of desperate resistance by fresh enemy troops.

At the end of September, the division was temporarily assigned to the IVTH French Army, and entered the front lines on October 1-2. On October 3, it participated in a general attack. It drove forward with magnificent elan through a network of barbed wire and a trench system of great strength, and seized the powerfully fortified heights of Blanc Mont.

In the afternoon of October 3, although the division on its left had not debouched from its trenches, it again attacked, passing beyond the ridge. On October 4, and succeeding days, it continued its savage attacks, and in spite of the most persistent and violent counter attacks of two fresh German divisions, it held the ground gained with the utmost tenacity and destroyed the enemy forces confronting it. As a direct result of its successful blows, the German army of the Champagne withdrew from the impregnable heights east of Rheims and retreated to the Aisne.

During the latter part of October, the Second Division marched to join the First American Army on the battlefield of the Meuse-Argonne, and was assigned to the Fifth Army Corps, "having, on account of its well-known ability, been selected to assault and break through the strong enemy positions near Landres-et-St. Georges, which had hitherto been considered impregnable." On November 1, with the Eighty-ninth Division on its right, it drove forward irresistably through barbed wire and trenches to a depth of over nine kilometers, capturing five fortified towns and the Bois des Hazois. Again the result of its victory was far-reaching. The enemy's retreat to the east bank of the Meuse began, and the divisions on its left were able to advance to Buzancy and Briquenay without serious opposition.

The Second Division continued its rapid advance, and on the evening of November 3, its advance guard penetrated the enemy's lines and passed through the forest of Belval. By 11:30 p. m., on that day, it had debouched from the forest and had seized a position near Beaumont, six kilometers in advance of the divisions on its right and left. On the succeeding nights, by a series of night attacks, it cleared the west bank of the Meuse, on its front, of all enemy troops.

Finally, in the last battle of the war, in the face of heavy machine gun and artillery fire, its leading battalions, followed by a liasion battalion of the Eighty-ninth Division, crossed the Meuse by two hastily constructed footbridges, seized the heights on the east bank and, at 11 a. m., November 11, were still pursuing the enemy.

In these battles the Second Division captured 12,926 prisoners, over one-fourth of the total number captured by the A. E. F., and 343 cannon, about one-fourth of the total number captured by the A E. F., and it advanced its front lines, in the face of desperate enemy resistance, to a depth of 62 kilometers.

These gloriously decisive victories were not won without staggering losses. The casualties of the Second Division were heavier than those of any other division in the A. E. F., and amounted to a total of 24,429.

Pvt. Kleinlein felt slighted when the "Y" secretary would not let him take the graphaphone to his billet. Why not see the commanding officer, Kleinlein?

Cpl. Sterling says he cannot sleep at night. He believes it is something they put in the chow. Cheer up, Corporal, it may not be true.

Cpl. Warman says that he is going to be a street car conductor when he gets back to the States. He thinks the "change would do him good. We know he would take only what was "fare."

Cpl. Cassidy received a letter from the Chief of Police last week. The Chief said in his letter that he hoped it would not be long before they met again.

Whoever took the uniform from Pvt. Plazzito's billet will kindly return same. There will be no questions asked. It is too big for you, Mulligan.

Mechanic Kaigler met with an accident Thursday. When Sgt. Young said "fall in," Kaigler gave about-face so quickly that he turned his ankle. He wanted to know who was going to buy. He thought he was back in Nancy on pass.

Sgt. McCloskey, while in a 100-yard dash the other day dropped his chewing tobacco. He stopped to pick it up, thus losing the race for his platoon.

Many fellows are discovering very dependent relatives, big ones and small ones, and we have again lost two of our fellow buddies. Sgt. Miram Watkins and Pvt. James Robinson have left for the States.

There are more arguments than ever before between the men enlisted for the duration of the war and the members of the reserve. Who is going to get out first?

The request of the Y. M. C. A. for the government to take over the sales canteens has been granted. Similar sales canteens have been in operation since April 1, by the quartermaster's department. In addition to the "Y's" work in the field of entertainments, athletics and education, they have reserved the privilege of operating wet canteens.

You men of the Deuxieme Division who have taken one or the other of these nice long passes now being granted with all the comforts of home—American Specials—accommodating M. P.'s and R. T. O.'s—coaches comfortably heated with natural air at about 40 degrees—real American girls serving lunch at almost every stop—Poilus showing their appreciation by giving you their seats in a "Hommes 40, Cheveaux 8"—aren't you ashamed to say you did not have a good time?

Now, right down in your heart, won't you admit that it was one of THE times in your young life? What would you want to tell the folks back home any richer than the fact that you took turns sleeping in the racks for hand baggage?

And if we did not have all those orders about not riding French commercial trains, it would be no fun to ride them, would it? You say that you would not take another one for fifty dollars. Another makes it still stronger by saying that he would pay them fifty dollars to not make him go. But in a few weeks, when you get square with your creditors, and begin dreaming about those chic, modest mademoiselles, we wager your C. O. had better not offer you a furlough if he needs your services. And say—those labor battalions—don't the thoughts of 'em get your goat?

SOCIETY WEDDING AT IRLICH

Irlich-bei-Neuwied.—The civilian inhabitants of the town are discussing today the marriage of Sgt. First-class Charles J. Vinces, M. D., of Field Hospital No. 1, to Fraulein Stella Hetz of Rhineland, Germany. Although the circumstances are not yet clear to the hosts and hostesses of Americans residing in this hill town (thanks to the invitation extended to the A. O. through the courtesy of Marshall Foch), it is established that the wedding was a church affair, that there were flowers and that the bride wore a white gown of unpronouncable [sic] German texture.

News of the impending catas—er, event, percolated through Kirchstrasse and thence to Hindenburg Avenue, thence to the cafe on the corner and thereafter throughout the whole village, following an interview by Sgt. Emery Blue with the wife of a teacher in the public school.

Sgt. Blue is the quartermaster end of Field Hospital No. 1, and though he does not speak German fluently, he was elected to secure a billet for the bridegroom-to-be and the bride-to-come. It wasn't exactly a regulation proceedure, but the genial sergeant, always aiming to fill requests of the men of the company, did his best, and by dint of much effort secured a room which was the abode of a German general in the days when Germany had her own A. O. on the Rhine.

It was in this wise that the news first started. A day or two later the story developed from other sources that the catas—er, wedding, would take place on the following Sunday at 3 p. m., American time. As this happened to be German time also, the inhabitants were not at a loss in making arrangements to be present.

Eyes were glued to the windows all day Saturday, for it was thought that the fraulein might come then. But Saturday passed, and so did Sunday morning. Fraulein didn't appear until 1 p. m., but the wait was worth while, and 300 descendants of Attila marvelled at the beauty that Rhineland had produced but was soon to surrender—to an American at that. Miss Hetz was attired in charming simplicity, and beneath her picture hat of snowy white there appeared, when the bridal veil was blown aside by inconsiderate winds, "rosy lips and golden hair," besides rosy cheeks and a smile disclosing two rows of pearly teeth.

It may be remarked that events were halted just at the scheduled hour of the ceremony. Sgt. Vinces was in the midst of American friends, receiving congratulations, when a young girl from the house where the medical man is billeted broke through the cordon, and in real middle-ages style, planted herself on her knees and begged and beseeched and implored that the guest of her home should not throw himself away on a fraulein of no well known neighborhood, a girl of evil associations, no doubt (said the maid), and totally undeserving the hand, fortune and rank of a sergeant first-class, M. D. U. S. A.

Sgt. Vinces, who can hob-wobble in Dutch, defended the lady of his choice, but could not state why she came unaccompanied to lrlich, why she was willing to marry without the publication of the ordinary bans, why she had not so much as spoken a single word to the 500 inhabitants grouped about and only too eager to shower congratulations (and ask questions). Meanwhile Miss Hetz was "carrying on something awful" with the members of the company. She would not so much as say "Good day" to her countrymen. Her fraternization was shocking. Why should a blushing bride allow husky Yanks to hit her on the back, meanwhile shrieking "Thass good, thass good"? Why should the fair lady of Rheinland, about to enter the church for the solemn ceremony of matrimony, borrow a "Camel" and blow smoke through the bridal veil?

There were many questions such as this, but only one question was answered. The troubled maiden of Irlich wanted to know who would perform the ceremony, and Sgt. Vinces was able to reply that Perl Hawkins, superintendent of mails for the Second Sanitary Train, would officiate as soon as he arrtved [sic arrived]—he was due at 3 o'clock, unless the mail truck broke down between Engers and Irlich.

The Germans who had come with curiosity in their minds were troubled. They expected to see an American wedding, not a riot. Here was Fraulein Hetz waltzing around the churchyard with ordinary soldiers while she neglected her husband-to-be, a sergeant, and worth a salute, according to Hun regulations.

It may be that her indifference caused Vinces to pay some attention to the watery entreaties of the little maiden, on her knees in Kirchstrasse. It is certain that he comforted her with a sudden declaration that the wedding was all off, and Gretchen, or Regina, or Louisa, or whoever it was, ran happily to the church door and there announced to the assemblage that the German-American alliance had been cancelled.

Miss Hetz thereupon fulfilled the wickedest estimate of her character by proceeding to disrobe. Hardly had a huge Hun gasp expired when from the waist there emerged an O. D. shirt, and from the white gown O. D. trousers, and from the hat and golden hair, a Yankee face with raven locks, and thereupon the identity of Miss Hetz of Rheinland was forever dissolved and Corporal William O. Morris, M. D., of Field Hospital No. 15, resumed his sex, nationality, rank and authority, and, by virtue of the latter, proceeded to "borrow" another "Camel."

At the present valuation of the German mark, it is unneccessary to buy cigarette papers.

How about Nice and Monte Carlo for leave?

Soldiers who have the chance to go on fourteen days leave should not fail to visit Nice and Monte Carlo. This is the time when the shores of the Mediterranean are most inviting. Nice is the most noted of European winter resorts. It is located near the Mediterranean Alps, just on the sea, and is one big flower garden all the year around.

From Nice one can go to Monte Carlo, in the principality of Monaco. There is where the noted gambling casino is. Monte Carlo is a sight for sore eyes, in its beauty and cleanliness. From Monte Carlo one can go to Menton, and step across the boundary into Italy. just to say that he has been there.

From Nice also many short trips can be made to neighboring resorts. A trip to Grasse, the largest perfume manufacturing center in the world, is possible. Here one can see forty perfume factories and can visit any one of them, and can also deposit "beau-coup" francs for French perfumes.

Take advantage of your chance while you are in Europe and see the interesting and noted places. Select some place, ask questions, and make plans.

Lester and Queen, wagoners of the battalion, came near having a fight the other day over a can of oil. Lester wanted the oil for Major Bruce's car and Queen wanted it to use on his clothes—you see some places hadn't been splattered, and he wanted to finish the job, so his uniform would be all one color.

Capt. Byron H. Herman, affectionately known as "Doc" in the battalion, has just succeeded in doing what the German army with all its "Big Berthas" couldn't do. He laid out the entire battalion in one day—no smoke, no powder, nothing—just a little needle and a little bottle of hop. And then to show the fellows that the stuff wasn't poison, he proceeded to roll up his sleeve and took an extra large shot himself. It was freely predicted in the battalion that "Doc" would be A. W. O. L. from his private sanctuary in the palatial home of the pill rollers for a couple of days, but no—he showed up smiling the next morning, and now the boys are wondering if he really took the hop or camouflaged the said hop and took water.

The Second Engineers' band came over Friday evening and gave us a fine program, which was greatly enioyed. You see the Second Engineers are our old pals, as along in the latter part of June, 1918, we helped them with a little job of trench digging around Chateau Thierry way—so we know the kind of work they did, and the kind of stuff they are made of. Come again, fellows. We like your music and we like you.

Very busy at present getting acquainted with our company commanders, as we seem to have a new one almost every day.

Front line stuff: A terrific barrage the other night caused the first sergeant to dive under the table and a clerk ducked behind the stove, but at that moment the orderly came in, asking: "What's wrong? That's only the officers having a blowout downstairs."

Baseball Players continue to report in from the platoons with rubber boots and snowshoes.

We all agree that we should have custom house officials on the Rhine and not let any more monkey-meat over here, as we have nearly forgotten how to use our gas masks.

The Irish Sons of Rest surely woke Germany up around Heddesdorf on St. Patrick's night, with a banquet and entertainment that was green all over. The boys all thank the A. P. M. for leniency shown.

Outside of cooking schools, Signal Corps school, university training, agricultural colleges, pigeon schools, examinations, handling switchboards and shooting line trouble, fatigue and K. P., we are not very busy at present.

Upon the advance of the Second Division into Germany, the retiring army rear guard was only a few miles in advance of the Second Supply Trains. One Company D truck was detached for a special trip and the driver was instructed to rejoin the company at Heimersheim, after delivering his load. He took the wrong fork of the road, and after two hours fast traveling, came upon the rear guard of the enemy.

The Germans were almost panic-stricken when the truck dashed up and stopped. The driver asked if he was in the right road to Heimersheim. A German soldier, who spoke good English, gave him the correct direction.

When asked what he would have done if the Germans had seized the truck, the American replied : "I never even thought of such a thing."

An "optimist" is a jolly fellow who never knows trouble or misfortune. No? Yes? When he meets a misfortune he ignores it and forgets it; puts it behind him. Has he learned anything? Or will he keep on ignoring until ignorance of the past misfortune brings him to one great, colossal, irretrievable failure?

The thought conveyed by the word "optimist" is not the true picturization of optimism. A happy-go-lucky sort of a fellow may be an optimist, and he may be worse. If you can write down every failure and misfortune, keep it, read it, remember it, and profit by it, and smile because of the profit and grow bigger, you are an optimist. You have a rare faculty.

Smile and be happy? Or smile and look happy? It depends on your troubles, and is nobody's business but your own. If you can't be happy, look happy, and smile, smile, smile, but don't forget the past so completely but that you can benefit by having been through it.

What attracts your attention quickest, and without apparent effort on your part to become interested? Is it a pair of silk stockings fluttering down the street? Or is it a war map in somebody's show window? Or a book, or a magazine, or an automobile, or a horse, maybe?

Did you know that the degree of spontaneous interest you show advertises what you are deep down inside you? Why are you so quickly interested, without effort to fix your attention? It is either some noble thing that you hold near and dear to your heart, openly, or it is a secret desire or evil in your life, some circumstance that has forced itself upon you or is connected in some way with your daily business, your manner of earning a living. In any event, it discloses a good deal that you had not thought of disclosing. You cannot entirely hide your inner self, or interest. The great men of all times have been those who earnestly and honestly tried to be "great" and were interested in great things, even though most "great men" care nothing for the glory of greatness. They're too busy. What attracts you quickest? And why? What holds your interest longest? And why? Think about it.

"God likes an honest soul—too earnest to be eager," says Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and I believe her with all my heart.

Did you ever notice a fine, high-spirited horse when hitched to a heavy load, how eager to be off, how restless, and how full of life he is; how he dreams of the grand display of strength and the easy going ahead? Then have you noticed how startled he is when he actually starts? How he gives back in surprise at the refusal of the load to move?

Then have you ever noticed a slow-going, steady old mule, bull-headed sometimes, but honestly earnest in his work? Did you ever notice that he's thinking of the load behind him, and estimating how much effort it will take to start it moving? And then have you noticed him slowly settle against his collar, tighten the traces, and pull and strain and dig until the thing moves? And have you ever noticed that he keeps it moving once he's got it going?

He's an honest, earnest old soul, and the best friend man ever had. He's worth some study.

"The world gets out of the way for any man who knows where he is going." Just how true it is, you know by experience. Watch the crowd on the street, the crowd in life, and the few who really know, and who realize they're going somewhere, and intend getting there.

"The rolling stone gathers no moss?" No, it's just rolling, rolling down hill, and just going from where it was. Yet, an immovable stone gathers moss. Does that mean that we should stay still and go nowhere at all? Geographically, yes. "Yonder grass" is no greener than what we're standing on. But mentally, and in life's battles for the right to live, and the battle for recognition, we don't want to stay still. We must grow in experience and ability or we will shrink into nothingness.

Ralph Waldo Trine says: "We curse life's obstacles as if they were devils. But they are not devils. They are obstacles." Obstacles can be pushed aside by hard thinking and direct effort. Think, then do, even though in these strenuous war times we must sometimes act first and think afterward. But think.

The First Battalion, Fifth Marines, was reviewed Tuesday, April 1, by Major LeRoy P. Hune, our esteemed commander. Each company was, in turn, staged for the divisional photographer's camera, the officers being in front of their respective companies.

The battalion was then drawn up in a column of platoons, the officers being arranged in double rank at the head of the column, immediately in front of the battalion group. The Forty-ninth, commanded by Capt. Kirer; the Sixty-sixth, commanded by Capt. Blake; the Sixty-seventh, commanded by Capt. Bender, and last in the column came the Seventeenth, commanded by Capt. Langford.

The sun was excellent for the photographer, and the rolling hills furnished a good background, while the green grass of the valley gave us a sloppy, soggy parade ground. The Fifth Regimental Band was present, and the colors were conspicuous. The results were very satisfactory.

The people of France insist that the Second is a French division and are calling on President Poincaire to bring us home.

After "bringing home the bacon" the Second naturally took possession of "the Rhine."

Engers.—Sgt. Harold Thompson of Ambulance Company 16, Second Sanitary Train, has been asked by members of his company to give an authentic, albeit easy, explanation of the origin and nature of American army mules, which appear, by his direction, daily in the environs of Engers. He was asked to give precise information on the following points:

"Are mules born old?"

"Are mules born at all?"

"Do, mules have offspring?"

When the American ambulances first came. the residents of the numerous towns along the Cohlenz-Neuwied highway found their first real American problem. (It had been no problem to defeat the Americans—their generals had told them that the Americans could never get to France because of the U-boats). The problein of the American army mule baffled everybody—it was the topic of discussion in the gasthauses of Bendorf, Milhofen, and even in the more kultured region of Heddesdorf.

The local faunologists had never seen mules listed in the species of quadrupeds. So memory ran back to the time of the American "Vild Vest" show in Coblenz, yerzenyers ago where mules-mere seen for the first and last time—that is, last until the bigger circus with U. S. A. painted on camions appeared.

At first it was thought that mules might be buffaloes, but this was discredited, as it was taught that buffaloes were extinct. Finally an American fraternized to the extent of telling a German that mules were not horses, they were not machines, they were not zebras, they were "mules." This would have satisfied the Germans had not the American added incidentally that mules do not have young. This 'wild story ran along the highway until a few days ago a perplexed baker of Bendorf called a Ninth Infant7 doughboy to his window and implored him to solve the metaphysical problem that was wrecking the mentality of the neighborhood, to-wit: If mules have no young, where do they come from? The Yank, with true soldierly instinct, replied: "I will ask my captain," and he left.

Consumed with curiosity, the German baker tired of waiting after two days, and called another American. He said that mules had not been seen in tie Rhineland before, except at a circus, and he wanted to know where they came from, as he understood that mules do not have young. The American replied in the only German word he knew, "Himmel"—mules come from Himmel (which was a nice tribute to America at that!).

The rumor flew back up to Milhofen that the Americans claimed that mules were Heaven sent, and negotiations continued through the baker, for the plenipotentiaries sitting at the gasthaus demanded to know how the mules were brought down from Heaven, even if it were true that that is where they came from. Besides, from the expressions used' by the drivers of these animals, it was evident that that four-footed transportation was not regarded as cherubic or seraphic or anything else relating to the nine choirs of angels. In fact, English-speaking Germans had heard the drivers consign the beasts to the nether regions and had hinted at a strain in their an-cestry—blemishing the character of celestial beings, if such they were.

That where the matter stands now. The Germans know there are such things as mules. They have been credibly and repeatedly informed that mules do not have young. They reject utterly the Himmel theory of their origin. They believe, however, that mules are born, but this gives rise to further puzzling questions. If mules do not have young, where do mules come from? There are no young mules here and though a close eye is kept, on the various A. O. herds, there is as yet no evidence that any young ones will be born. The unsatisfying conclusion is reached by some that mules are born at an elderly age, full-grown at any rate. The reader can understand the perplexity of the burghers.

At the White House, Lillian Russell met Lord Salisbury, the Bachelor, dressed up in his Tuxedo, smoking his Cremo. He certainly made a Home Run hit with the Star. They were married upon two Camels, under the Twin Oaks, and Lord Chesterfield, one of the great Moguls, the husband of Fatima, acted as best man.

It looked like a Lucky Strike until the Jolly Tar butted in. It was an Honest Scrap. The Climax was reached when the Dixie Kid appeared on the scene. With a Granger Twist he threw the Navy Cut Plug representative on his back.

The latter was no Cowler and realized he was King Bee no longer, and in order to create Town Talk took a chew of Piper Heidsick and left the society of the Dukes.

He then purchased a Prince. Albert and went to a Stag at the Helmar Club. Upon leaving he dropped a letter into the Mail Pouch to a Sweet Caporal in the army, telling him that he was going to marry Rameses.

With a box of Pall Malls in one hand and a package of Hassens in the other, he changed his mind and went to the theatre. Between the Acts he fell in love with an American Beauty, the sister of La Preferencia, one of the Egyptian Dieties. She was a Union Leader. They purchased a home near the Old Mill at Piedmont, called it Omar, and have been living on Velvet every since.

When you see a man with a black, oval-shaped background for his star and Indian head and your curiosity prompts you to ask him to what unit he belongs, and he proudly answers: "The Second Mobile Ordnance Repair Shop," don't look dumbfounded and say you did not know they were in the Second Division. That is, don't say it in public, because the man you are talking to is sure to be mighty proud of his organization, and it makes him feel bad when you talk that way where other people hear it.

Many of you probably did not know we were in the war. Well, we never had to dig holes for our protection, but boys we ran like h—l a few times to holes that someone else had dug. At Suippes, for instance, one night about 2 o'clock you could have found us, dressed and undressed, in all parts of the town, looking for holes.

And as a further proof that we are in the army—the Y. M. C. A., Red Cross and everybody has found us down here at Neider Hammerstein, making life a little more pleasant for us by furnishing sweets and entertainment, one form of the latter being movies on Friday nights. A few nights ago we had Doug Fairbanks and Terry McGovern. The latter, of course, has been dead for about three years, but it was a good show anyway. You know that smile of Doug's—some smile, isn't it? But wouldn't you like to see him stuck over here along the Rhine as a buck private for about eight months and watch that smile fade away? Anybody can smile under his conditions. but you fellows with no "strings" pulling back home and still smiling have Doug's smile beat a mile.

More entertainment which comes our way is the religious service which we have in our Wirtschaft. Our man is necessarily a very interesting talker. We say "necessarily," because if he lags the least bit in his talk, the thirsty ones begin to roll their eyes around, and have visions of bottles promenading on the tables. You look at them, wondering what they are concentrating their eyes upon, when all of a sudden you see it—the same intoxicating vision which is attracting their attention.

Every now and then you hear a man sniff. No, he is not crying because the speaker is talking in pathetic tones, but he is imagining that some fraulein with her bar rag is wiping the table at his elbow. However, he feels a certain degree of sadness because he is thinking that when he returns to his favorite haunts in America, the bar rooms will have passed into the same droll existence which now bears upon our Wirtschaft.

Once upon a time there was an army of occupation, and it was ruled over by a great and wise king whose name was Uncle Sam.

Now the people who made up the Army of Occupation were restless and prone to grumble by reason of having fought and won a war, but still being constrained to remain in the enemy country. Still, all in all, no one really complained, well knowing that the good king had affairs of great moment to arrange, and that he would return his soldiers to their own land at the earliest possible moment.

But one matter troubled the Army of Occupation above all others, and it was at last decided to send one of their number before the king and seek justice. And the man who had been chosen, being before the king, spoke in this wise:

"O, King, whom all thy subjects love, we present to thee a grievance.

"We have been paid for our services in a foreign money. It is distasteful to us, nor can we think it to have value. Some of us have gambled it at craps; others have drunk it up in the stuff called wine (which in truth seems more like vinegar), with disastrous results; few have sent any home, knowing that it would mean nothing to those who received it, being foreign; all have been broke on the third day following pay-day.

"Being convinced of the folly of all this, and trusting in the wisdom of the king, we request that we receive for our services only that money which to us is real money, and which we respect above all other money in the world."

So ended the speaker.

Now the good king loved his Army of Occupation, and it came to pass that he took the matter to heart. And on the following pay-day, all were amazed and overjoyed at seeing in their hands crisp, new banknotes bearing the words which they loved: "United States of America."

And strange events came to pass, unheard of before in the Army of Occupation. For the soldiers would not willingly part with their treasure, saying: "This which I have is worth more than all of the pfennigs in the world and is too precious to be wasted on wine and cognac."

And the guard house was forced to close its doors, having no customers. And many did go and write letters to their loved ones at home, enclosing therein ten dollar bills, knowing the joy that such letters would bring, and others laid away their new money for hard times. And all were happy.

Now Uncle Sam, hearing of the marvelous change in his army, saw that he had done a good thing, and was pleased. Therefore he straightway ordered that all of his soldiers should thereafter receive full value for their services in the coin of the realm. And it was so.

Memorial Day, 1918, will long be remembered by the men of the Second Supply Train. The morning of that day found them encamped in puppy tents in an apple orchard at the little hamlet of Duobiers, about 90 kilometers northwest of Paris, on the Somme front.

The division was due to go into the line there, where the British were being hard pressed, and all hands were jubilant. Reports came in of a sudden enemy drive on Paris.

Notice was posted for a formation at 11:50 a. m., but when the time approached it was suddenly cancelled. Officers tried to appear calm, but their faces plainly showed something big was coming, and a spirit of suppressed excitement pervaded the whole train.

Then the men were assembled, orders given to strike camp, load trucks and await orders. With a chorus of whoops the men worked with a spirit and dash that was to characterize their every movement during the months that followed.

Trucks were loaded and drawn in line along the highway. They were to move forward at a moment's notice. Supper time came, but no chances were taken on erecting the field kitchens, as it might delay the departure. Cold emergency rations sufficed.

Most of the men refused to sleep, but sat on the loaded trucks far into the night, speculating as to which front they would be sent. Others rolled themselves in blankets without removing their clothes and slept beneath the trucks. At 1:30 a. m. the order was passed along the line that the trains would move at 6 a. m. Immediately the cooks were aroused and a hot meal was served at 4 a. m. Promptly at 6 o'clock the train pulled out, only to find the main road across which it must pass blocked by an endless stream of camions containing the fighting units of the Second Division, also on their way.

At 11 o'clock, Col. Herringshaw detected a good-sized gap in the approaching stream of cars and ordered all motors started. At a sign the trucks were driven into the break and the men succeeded in getting the entire train through before the head of the approaching section arrived.

Then began a mad dash, with no stops for meals, toward the spot where the invader menacing Paris was approaching. The train pulled up at Meaux at 10:30 p. m., May 31. Here a supply dump and railhead was established, amid the crash of bombs, dropped by Hun aviators on the city.

Gloomy forebodings of the civil inhabitants of the city gave way to happiness upon the arrival of the Americans, and when they were assured the Second Division would arrive the next day, prepared for business, they thanked us profusely. As the American soldier was an unknown quality to them, however, the most they could hope was the Second might delay the enemy advance long enough for the fresh French divisions to arrive and be thrown into the line.

The next day—June 1—the fighting units arrived. What they did is history—glorious history. Horses, mules and regimental supply wagons were trudging along far in the rear, and to the supply train was given the double task of not only carrying the rations right up to the front, but also to return with forage and rations for men and animals in the rear, and haul up guns and rolling kitchens.

Uncomplainingly and cheerfully the truck drivers worked night and day to guarantee the success of this, the first big battle with the enemy. It was on this occasion, as the trucks dashed up to the front under shell fire to unload machine guns, a major of the Marines yelled out to his men: "Boys, here comes the gasoline cavalry."

A challenge is open to any man in the A. O. O., or A. E. F., with a mouth measuring no more than six feet across, to a rice-eating contest, to be held at the First Battalion (Ninth Infantry) mess hall.

Nothing smaller than a No. 6 scoop shovel can be used, and no derricks or grain shoots allowed. In this match, this man, or in other words, soldat, thinks more of a can of rice than he does of a cocoanut pie. He is Acting Sgt. Kubiak, and he wishes to announce that he is the champion of the world at the present. The Sergeant also believes that he is deserving of the D. S. C. for his good work. Most any day on the drill field when anyone yells "Rice!" you can see him work his ears like a donkey when it wants some hay. and we feel confident that he is the champion of the world at the present. Please send all challenges to