“Don’t the skipper or eagle know?”
“Guess not; we are travelling on confidential orders; perhaps the eagle does know.”
So on through France we travelled, to heaven knows where!
At last we halted at a small station. An officer met us and inquired for the commanding officer. The train pulled in to a high platform, where we unloaded. We had reached the limits of our railroad travel. It was dark, and we were tired and hungry, with prospects of cold grub for supper.
We were assigned to billets by an American officer—stables, barns, stores and lofts. Some big galvanized cans of hot coffee were sent us by the officer of an American regiment already established.
“Thanks!” I heard the colonel say. “I hope to return the compliment some time.”
“You can return the coffee out of your ration tomorrow; it is the rule here to help each other.”
The most expressive part of our location was that for the first time, we were within sound of guns. We heard a dull boom! boom! and at times thought we heard the sharper sound of rifles. We were near the front at last, and were to get practical experiences in the trenches, further to fit us for the grim duties of soldiering.