"I went back to the routine of my office, but everything had lost color and seemed monotonous. I believe I had left my heart in France, and I felt mean and small over there, eating three squares a day and sleeping on a soft bed, when the armies on the other side were making the world's history.
"Several times later I passed that sign on Greenwich Street, 'Horses for France, Men Wanted,' and the pictures of the second foreman dropping the pasty-faced doctor would loom before my eyes. I do not know to this day what became of that nervy wreck of humanity, who had the temerity to tell our foreman where he got off at.
"So, Sailor Bill, old scout, how about that for a 'passage,'" concluded Yank.
Sailor Bill did not answer.
Curly butted in: "Me for the trenches every time."
The rest agreed with Curly. So did Yank.
THE END