One afternoon I was on liberty in a certain city in France and conceived the idea of spending two hours in the Palais de Cristal, a vaudeville house. Now, in view of the unceremonious way one gains entrance to a theatre in America, I did not think an extensive knowledge of the French language was essential. I expected simply to purchase what was designated on the posters as "orchestre billet," walk in, be relieved of my ticket, and have an usher point out my seat .

I learned that French methods differ vastly from American. Unsuspectingly, I walked up to the ticket window, which was presided over by a mademoiselle who, it developed later, was hard of hearing. I laid down a five-franc note and said, "Un orchestre, seel voo play."

The girl looked puzzled for a moment, and then inquired: "Bee-ay?"

"No, fini beer," I said. "I wish a ticket."

Her next question was "Promenay?"

"Certainment," I told her. "Ce soir; maintenant ticket, orchestre."

"Parquet?" she inquired.

"No, not in the park; in the theatre," I answered. Finally she took the five-franc note and gave me a green slip of paper and about a pound of clackers.

I proceeded toward the door, where I was stopped by a uniformed old gentleman who touchingly implored me to give him my ticket. I complied, and waited a few minutes for the return of my stub.

The old gentleman was taken with a fit of absentmindedness, however, and did not even remember me when I tried to refresh his memory in regard to it. He performed the fourth movement of the hula-hula with his shoulders, and muttered, "Je ne comprendre pas."

I passed on through the foyer, only to be stopped by another gentleman, who demanded my ticket. I tried impress upon him that the ticket had already been disposed of, but he continued firm in the conviction that I had a ticket concealed about me.

Presently another Frenchman stepped out from the door of a secret passage nearby, had a slight attack of delirium tremens, and said: "I spik a leettle off ze Englis; perhaps can I you assist, n'est ce pas?"

"Yes, sir, you speak considerably off," I assur[e] him, and then stated my case. I had grown desperate, and then offered him ten francs for the best seat in the house.

He conducted me down a series of dark hallways to a window marked "Supplementaire," and there exchanged several francs for a slip of paper, also marked "Supplementaire." Armed with this, I walked right down to the front of the theatre, and showed my ticket triumphantly to an usher. He promptly referred me to the usher I had just passed, who relayed me to the next one back, and so on, until I was directed to a seat in the extreme lower left-hand corner of the building. With a sigh of utter we[ak]ness I sank down, and remained until the end of the third act before I could revive enough to get to my feet and pass out—a sadder but wiser man.

—Sgt. W. F. Cotton, Co. F, Second Supply Train.

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Wherever the boys of the Second Division go, the entertainment bureau, in charge of Senior Chaplain Lee Owens, is right on their heels. In Dierdorf, June 17, "Tricks and Tunes," a clever "Y" show, was presented before an enthusiastic soldier audience and scored a big hit. It was a complete surprise to the men, as they did not anticipate any entertainment at such an advanced post under existing conditions.

While the German population looked on in wonder, two of the ladies, one of whom was attired as a cow-girl, advertised the show through the principal streets of the town. The performance which followed was replete with beaucoup catchy songs and pranks.

Henry Marcus, in charge of the troupe, manipulated cards and cracked some jokes. The big feature was furnished by Misses Clara Howard and Hazel Moran, with songs and wild western lasso throwing. John Miller was on the job in some good acrobatic maneuvers, while Gene Harrington entertained in a juvenile act with baby songs.

We see men when brushing their teeth put a big gob of toothpaste on their brush and jerk it back and forth across their front teeth as if they were swabbing the deck of an ocean liner, and they think they are doing a good job of cleaning their teeth, and doing it with the greatest possible speed.

If he would start the brush at the gums and brush to the ends of the teeth, and use his tooth-brush much as if it were a toothpick with a brush on the end of it, he would do a better job and do it quicker by several minutes, quicker because of the fact that he accomplished what he has started out to accomplish, he has cleaned the teeth.

That serves as an example for other things that we may be doing. The appearance of hustling and scurrying around at a great speed is generally pretty good evidence that most of the work that is to be done is being overlooked, or is being improperly done for the sake of putting up a good appearance, an appearance of great speed. The truly fast worker is the one who is centering his whole atention [sic] upon the work itself, and who has no worry about impressing others of his great abilities.

He is willing to let the results show for themselves, and does not go out of his way to convince others that he is speedy (at the expense of the work he is doing). Real speed stands out by the results attained, and not so much by appearance only. If you want to get things done, apply your mind and efforts to the work itself, not to the impression you are making on other people.    —York Spur.

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When Private King has appointed orderly to the C. O., during our last tour of guard, he reported in the following manner: "Sir, Colonel King reports the commanding officer as orderly."

As your magnificent Division is about to leave his command, it is with a sense of gratitude for its splendid achievements while in the American Expeditionary Forces that the Army Commander expresses to you and to your gallant officers and men his appreciation of your services.

After occupying a defensive sector between VERDUN and ST. MIHIEL, you were placed in the line of battle and met, with stubborn resistance, the onslaughts of the enemy hordes near CHATEAU-THIERRY. Your action at BELLEAU WOODS and your attack upon and capture of VAUX must ever remain brilliant exploits in our military history.

At SOISSONS, side by side with a veteran French Division, you proved to our Allies the fighting value of the Army of the United States, and at ST. MIHIEL, in the first great American offensive, your prowess in attack was irresistible.

When, in October, 1918, the Allied High Command desired to reinforce the French Army by American troops of great offensive worth, by real "shock troops," you were loaned to General Gouraud's IV French Army, and delivered your famous assault on BLANC MONT ridge, releasing from German menace the historic city of RHEIMS.

In the closing phase of the MEUSE-ARGONNE operation, certainly no troops contributed more to the enemy's destruction than your Division. After taking LANDRES-et-ST. GEORGES, BAYONVILLE-et-CHENNERY, and the BOIS-de-la-FOILE, you pierced the BOIS-de-la-BELVAL, and by skillful night fighting, and marching, you cleared the enemy from the left bank of the MEUSE, and forced a crossing of the river.

Your brilliant exploits in battle are paralleled by the splendid example of soldierly bearing and discipline set by your officers and men while a part of the Army of Occupation. That spirit and dash which carried your men through the enemy's defenses still predominated when the Army was recently concentrated, preparatory to a further advance into unoccupied Germany.

Officers and soldiers of the Second Division, your achievements and sacrifices have earned for you and for your fallen comrades the praise and gratitude of our nation.

By command of Lieutenant General LIGGETT:

Saturday, June 7, 1919, was a momentous day in the history of Company C, Ninth Infantry, stationed in the small outpost town of Puderbach. In fact, the day was two-fold in its importance.

First of all, it was pay day for the company, and any man man who has soldiered even for one month, knows how vastly important pay day is to the American soldier.

Last, but not least, it was the day set aside for a Second Division Association membership rally, the results proving highly satisfactory to those who engineered the scheme, approximately 125 applications being secured, which brings the total membership of the company in the association to about 200.

There are 245 men in the organization, with 35 of the number absent for various reasons. This leaves a balance of ten who have not signed up, which does not signify that they won't.

The men of Company C have demonstrated by their earnest response to the call for applicants that they will support the association to the extreme limit They believe in it and in the principles on which it was constructed. Not only will the association be a means of preserving the spirit of the division, so gallantly displayed in all its glorious engagements, but it will be the prime factor in maintaining liaison with the pals of "over there" and provide a means, through the conventions, of meeting those pals and talking over again the experiences gained "in the good old days when hiking, hard tack, bully beef and Huns were the chief delicacies on the menu of operations."

The Second Division Assoociation is and will be a great thing, a big proposition, and Company C's chief characteristic is to instantly recognize an opportunity and promptly take possession of it.

As a side issue, some few financially embarrassed persons are asking the question of whether or not the two events staged in one day was the work of fate or just a little strategic move on the part of the energetic company commander, Capt. Gustave B. Appleman.

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The shades of Sampson and Bismarck viewed the terrestrial struggle intently, and when the final crash came, the Iron Prince turned to the strong man and said: "How can you account for this unlooked-for ending?" Sampson laughed. "Why did you not take warning from my biographers? You permitted women barbers in Germany."

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And now the question arises, was it not a hand grenade David threw at Goliath?

Every man who participated in the reduction of the St. Mihiel Salient, will recall with little effort the morning of September 12, 1918, when the First American Army effaced forever from the map the bulge in the line, which had stood as a thorn in the side of France for four years. The days of mud and rain proceeding, the mighty barrage, the attack, the victory all stand as convincing proof of the fighting qualities of the American soldier.

Corp. Thomas D. Saunders of Company A, Second Engineers, a Cheyenne Indian, better known as "Chief" by all his comrades, was in this fight, detailed with several teams of wire cutters to accompany the infantry in the attack, and cut lanes through the enemy wire defenses for the infantry to pass through.

There was, however, very little for these wire cutters to do as the barrage had pretty effectively destroyed the whole system of defense. Aware of the fact that rifles would be more effective than wire cutters now, the engineers grabbed their rifles and went with the first wave.

In the rapid advance some elements of the Second Division became separated from their commands. One of these groups of which Corporal Saunders was a member, was before the little town of Jaulny about five kilometers north of Thiaucourt, far in advance of the first wave.

The detail halted about fifty yards west of the wagon road leading into Jaulny. It was, while waiting for other troops to come up, that one of the party saw six German soldiers running along the road to Jaulny.

Proceeding over the railroad track the little party entered the town by the station. Singly, and in pairs, they began to search the houses. Corporal Saunders entered the basement of the church where he captured a German lieutenant, a chaplin, and six wounded, which were sent back under guard.

His blood up now and knowing that the town concealed several more, Corporal Saunders continued up the street thoroughly searching every house. At the far end of the street he came upon a large cellar, containing several French civilians. A Frenchman here tendered him a bottle of Cognac, the invigorating contents of which stimulated him to further efforts.

While engaged in conversation with the Frenchman, Corporal Saunders noticed a German cap move by the window in the far end of the cellar. Instantly alert now, he lighted a candle, and ascertained that the cellar was jammed with German soldiers. Calling to Corporal Wilkerson of Company B, Second Engineers, who was outside, for assistance, they lined the Germans up and marched them out of town.

Arriving at the outer edge of town, some German machine guns opened up on the detail, but ceased firing immediately when the prisoners were placed between the guns and the captors.

Considering the fact that Corporal Saunders and Corporal Wilkerson were practically alone in the town and succeeded in capturing sixty-three of the enemy right from under their noses, it is an exploit that few have had the experience of living through. It may be stated here that Jaulny was not occupied until the next morning, when the Marines cleaned it out. Corporal Saunders and Corporal Wilkerson were each given the D. S. C. for this act. The Indian had gone over and come back.

—Sgt. Irvin B. Gaard,
Company A, Second Engineers.

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Back in the old U. S. A., in the village of Remsen, Iowa, a community—nay, a whole state—is proud of the exploits of a native son in the A. E. F.

This son is Pvt. Fred Kramer, Ninety-seventh Company, Sixth Marines, tne champion auto-rifle shot of the A. E. F. He doesn't like publicity, but we will give him a few lines anyway.

Young Kramer enlisted immediately after America entered the war. He had a hard time of it in the "boot" camp, having to undergo a serious operation. He refused a discharge offered him because of this operation, and after a long siege in the hospital, he completed his "boot" training the latter part of August, 1917. From there he was sent to Quantico, Va., and put in the Ninety-seventh Company on August 31, having remained with that company all through the war.

When volunteers for the "suicide squad" were called for, Kramer stepped forth. He was made first gunner on a Lewis machine gun, the type then used by the infantry. In practice firing he was as good as the best. "Possibles" were common in his shooting.

He came to France with his organization in October, 1917, and all Lewis guns were turned over to other departments. In January, 1918, however, he was issued a Chautchaut, the well known French terror.

Kramer was with the division on all of its fronts, and always had his Chautchaut. In two battles he was the only man of his squad left to "tell the tale."

He received a wound in the Champagne offensive, but got back to his company for the last days in the Argonne. The Brownings were making their debut then, and Kramer was given one.

He has never used a Browning in actual combat, but his experience with other automatics was a great help. His Browning practice consisted on a few days practice firing while keeping the "Watch on the Rhine." Other competitors for the title—perhaps not all, had weeks of training in army schools, but not so for Kramer. But it was ever said, "You can't keep a good man down," and so we may say in ending: Pvt. Fred Kramer now wears a medal, the first of its kind in the entire world, and one which no other man is entitled to wear, and that medal is for the champion auto-rifle shot of the A. E. F.

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And when the kaiser thinks of the Indian Division, he denounces the Italians because Columbus discovered America and the Indians.

Company B, Second Engineers, had finished its bridge across the Meuse River on the night of November 10, 1918, and volunteers were called for to guard it. Six men volunteered. Sergeant Cowles, Corporal Marcell and Corporal Conover chose the enemy side, and Corporals Catlin and Yensen and Private DeFrancesco the other. The company left for camp, and as they crossed the railroad a few hundred yards away, another volunteer guard was left as runners Here five men stepped out—Sergeant Bennett, Corporals Larson and Beumer, and Privates Koranda and Mornhinweg.

Sergeant Cowles and his comrades proceeded to cross the bridge, and just as they reached their post a piece of shell wounded Corporal Conover. He was assisted back across the bridge by Corporal Marcell and from there to the first aid station, which was located across the railroad, by Private DeFrancesco.

At midnight some of the Fifth Marines crossed the bridge and reported that all was going well. Private DeFrancesco returned, and as we stood guard, the water in the Meuse literally boiled from the bursting shells, while the land was turned into a sea of flame and bursting shrapnel.

We were lying flat on the ground when a large shell exploded 15 feet away. It tore off an arm and broke one leg of Private DeFrancesco. It threw Corporal Yensen and myself several feet, but luck was with us neither of us being hurt, although we both were slightly stunned. We bound up our comrade and carried him back to the first aid station, returning through a hell of flying steel.

The Eighty-ninth Division came to the railroad and asked for a guide to B Company's bridge. Private Mornhinweg stepped up, and the major of the 342nd Machine Gun Battalion followed him through that rain of death to the head of B Company's bridge.

As the Eighty-ninth was passing the railway tracks a shell burst in the line, and the guard suffered. Corporal Beumer and Private Koranda were killed. Sergeant Bennett and Corporal Larson were badly wounded, and I was thrown into some bushes, which saved me from a hard fall.

The major, having orders, relieved the guard which was left on the other side of the bridge, and so it was as the grey streaks of dawn were seen in the east the fragment of the last guard was relieved.

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"With all the varieties," remarked the wit, "it is a wonder the Germans did not try laughing gas." "They did," replied the Indian. "Their intelligence officer wrote, 'The Second Division requires only proper training to make them serious adversaries'."

It was on an unusually mild afternoon in the early days of February, 1918, that the British steamship Tuscania, with a convoy of troopships and destroyers totalling thirteen, swung into the North Channel.

After thirteen days of imprisonment in the cramped quarters of the old liner, the passengers—all of them American soldiers, were fervently thankful when the gray, cloudy outline of the mountains of Scotland were sighted in the distance. Presently, on the opposite side, could be discerned the hazier, lower-lying hills that marked the shores of the Emerald Isle. That evening's mess was partaken of in a holiday spirit. An atmosphere of anticipation had taken the place of the vague foreboding that had lately existed.

About half the men had finished mess, and were scattered about the boat. Many had strolled up to the main deck and stood in little groups, watching the gleam from the lighthouses through the fast-thickening dusk, when "BANG!"—and we knew that a Hun torpedo had found its mark.

We knew it, even before we heard the muffled explosion; knew from the way the big ship reared into the air, lurched suddenly to one side, and then settled slowly into the black water. And darkness—pitch, black, oppressing darkness.

Except for one breathless, confused instant, there was practically no confusion. The soldiers found the places that had been assigned to them during the daily boat drills. Those who had been detailed to attend the lifeboats found themselves in a disheartening predicament. On the starboard side, above where the torpedo had struck, they found what had been an orderly arrangement of lifeboats swung on davits, was now reduced to a mass of wreckage and tangled ropes. On the port side, the problem was scarcely less difficult, for, owing to the fearful list to the starboard, it was almost impossible to swing the heavy boats out over the side. After a great deal of toil and anxiety, however, several boats were lowered and swung out into the waves.

By this time, the auxiliary lighting system was working, flares were lighted, rockets were being sent up. All this illumination seemed to the Yanks on board to present too easy a target for another torpedo.

Here and there a soldier lost his head and leaped overboard, only to lose his life. Some of the overloaded lifeboats sank before they were any distance from the ship.

A destroyer swung up to the port side and took off a number of passengers. Without any warning, it pulled away, and dozens of poor fellows who were in the act of sliding down the ropes, dropped into the water and were drowned or crushed to death between the two boats. Then ensued a nerve-racking period of uncertainty to the five hundred or more men still remaining. All the lifeboats were gone, and the ship was sinking faster and faster. Then out of the darkness crept another destroyer, and we were saved.

The goat at Relay X that furnished the officers and men in the place with milk. She was milked several times a day, and managed to survive the constant shell fire, though she rated a wound stripe. She stood at the mouth of a wine cellar, and ran down the stairs whenever she heard a shell approaching.

"Relay X," was at Chateau Thierry.

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