To illustrate the reverse—I was standing in a town a little ways back, waiting for a car to give me a lift up to the lines, when a kitten rubbed against my leg. I picked it up and started to play with it. Instantly a peasant—not too old to serve—rushed out and snatched the kitten from my arms:

Ce nest pas à vous!” was his comment.


THE English can never be called a temperamental race, but even their stolid worth has needed much shaking up for the best in it to come to the surface. The example they have set since their awakening is one which any nation may well emulate, and it will be a proud people indeed which can ever equal the record they have made in this war for courage and devotion, never surpassed in the history of the world.

The poilu and the Tommy are of such opposite types that each completely mystifies the other. The Frenchman works himself up to a fanatical state of enthusiasm, and in a wild burst of excitement dashes into the fray. The Englishman finishes his cigarette, exchanges a joke with his “bunkie,” and coolly goes “over the top.” Both are wonderful fighters, with the profoundest admiration for each other, but each with an absolute lack of understanding of the other, intensified by the difference in language.


THE varying characteristics of troops from different parts of the world—the allied countries, dependencies, and colonies—have led to their classification and assignment to the work best adapted to their temperament. The fighting troops are divided into two main classes called the “flying” and the “holding” divisions. There are some troops who are wonderful in a charge, but have no stamina or staying power to resist counterattacks or the wear of steady fighting. There are others who lack the initiative and dash, but who can hold on and resist anything. Then there are others who, while they are possessed of both qualities, are somewhat better suited for one class than the other. The Flying Divisions are used chiefly in the attacks, where a quick advance and desperate fighting must win the day. This completed, they go back en repos again, while the Holding Divisions take their place to consolidate the ground won, and to resist the enemy’s attempts to regain it. The Flying Divisions have longer repos but more violent fighting while they are on the line, and the Holding Divisions have shorter repos but a less strenuous although longer stretch in the trenches. This has all been worked out from observation and experiment.

For example,—in the early days of the war the Madagascans, French colored colonial troops, are given certain trenches to take. They take them with little delay, and are told to consolidate and hold them. This is all very well until supper fails to arrive. The soldiers wait impatiently for a short while, and then, ignoring the commands of their officers, evacuate their trenches, which are immediately occupied by the Germans, and go back for their meal. Supper finished, with no hesitation they return and in a wild charge recapture their trenches and several more.

Other French troops in the Flying Division are the Algerians, who have done wonderful fighting throughout the war, and have suffered heavily. It is the boast of the Foreign Legion, which is classed as Algerian, that since its organization it has never failed to reach its objective, and even in this war it has made good its boast. In one attack the Legion entered thirty-five thousand strong and returned victorious with a remnant of thirty-five hundred men.

The Algerians have a sense of humor all their own. An ambulancier was carrying one of them down to the hospital. As he was only slightly wounded he was sitting on the front seat with the driver, leaving more room for the couchés inside. One of the couchés was a German. Half way to the triage the Algerian made signs to the driver to stop. The driver looked inquiringly at the man who, with a broad grin, pulled out a long knife and pointed at the German. The driver naturally did not humor him, and the sulky Zouave refused to speak to him during the rest of the trip.