"We are doubly glad to welcome you back to France because our hearts have been so cheered by the coming of America," continued the colonel. "Victory seems nearer and nearer and vengeance for all the things you have endured." It was then that he snatched the great shout of "Vive la France" from the crowd.

As the din died down the corks began to pop and men who a little time before had not even been sure of a proper ration of water began to gulp champagne out of tin cups. The sting of the wine, the excitement and the din were too much for one returned prisoner. He had scarcely lifted his glass to his lips than he fell over in a heap and there was one more weary wanderer to make his return sickabed in a stretcher. But the rest marched better as they came out of the station with band tunes blaring in their ears and God knows what tunes singing in their hearts as they clanked along the cobbles. For they had been dead men and they were back in France and there was sun in the sky. When they crossed the bridge they broke ranks. The old woman in black was there and for just a minute the marching man became a boy again.

CHAPTER XVIII
FINISHING TOUCHES

THE American army had begun to find itself when October came round. Perhaps it had not yet gained a complete army consciousness, but there could be no doubt about company spirit. Chaps who had been civilians only a few months before now spoke of "my company" as if they had grown up with the outfit. They were also ready to declare loudly and profanely in public places that H or L or K or I, as the case might be, was the best company in the army. Some were willing to let the remark stand for the world.

Too much credit cannot be given to the captains of the first American Expeditionary Force. A captain commands more men now than ever before in the American army and he has more power. This was particularly true in France where many companies had a little village to themselves. The captain, therefore, was not only a military leader, a father confessor, and a gents' furnisher, but also an ambassador to the people of a small section of France. The colonels and majors and the rest are the fellows who think up things to be done, but it is the captains who do them.

Of course that wasn't the way the junior officers looked at it. A man who was a first lieutenant when the army came to France told us: "A first lieutenant is supposed to know everything and do everything; a captain is supposed to know everything and do nothing, and a major is supposed to know nothing and do nothing."

We were delighted early this year when we heard that he had been made a major, for we immediately sat down and telegraphed to him: "After what you told us this summer, we are sure you will be an excellent major."

By October much of the feeling between the officers of the regular army and the reserve had been smoothed out, but it was not like that in the early days. Once when a young reserve major was put in command of a battalion, a regular army captain who was much his senior in years observed: "I think there ought to be an army regulation that no reserve officer shall be appointed to command a battalion without the consent of his parents or guardian." But as the work grew harder and harder many little jealousies of the army were simply sweated out. It was easy to do that, for the American army woke up, or rather was awakened, every morning at five o'clock. There was a Kansas farmer in one company who was always up and waiting for the buglers. He said that the schedule of the American army always left him at a loss as to what to do with his mornings. But for the rest the trumpeters were compelled to blow their loudest. Roll call was at five-thirty and this was followed with setting up exercises designed to give the men an appetite for the six o'clock breakfast. This was almost always a hearty meal. The poilus who began the day with a cup of black coffee and a little war bread were amazed to see the doughboys start off at daylight with Irish stew, or bacon or ham or mush and occasionally eggs in addition to white bread and coffee.

After breakfast came sick call, at which men who felt unable to drill for any reason were obliged to talk it over with the doctor. Those who had no ailments went to work vigorously in making up their cots and cleaning their quarters. At seven they fell in and marched away to the training ground. Mornings were usually devoted to bombing, machine gun and automatic rifle practice. A little after eleven the doughboys started back to their billets for dinner. This was likely to consist of beans and boiled beef or salmon, or there would be a stew again or corned beef hash. The most prevalent vegetables were potatoes and canned corn. Dinner might also include a pudding, nearly always rice or canned fruit. Sometimes there was jam and, of course, coffee and bread were abundant.

During the latter part of the training period the home dinner was often omitted in favor of a meal prepared at the training ground. The afternoon work began a little before two. Rifle practice, drills and bayonet work were usually the phases of warfare undertaken at this time of day. Labor ceased at four with supper, which was much the same sort of meal as dinner, at five-thirty. After supper the soldier's time was pretty much his own. He could loaf about the town hall and listen to the army band play selections from "The Fair Co-ed," "The Prince of Pilsen" or any one of a score of comic operas long dead and forgotten by everyone but army bandmasters, or he could go to the Y.M.C.A. and read or write letters or play checkers or perhaps pool of the sort which is possible on a small portable table. He was due back in quarters and in bed at nine and he was always asleep at one minute and thirty seconds after nine.