The 311th was not in Montmorillon many days before the explanation of the half-hearted reception came to light. An element of negro troops had started the story on its rounds among the guileless French peasants that the white troops, who had just arrived, comprised the "Scum of America," and that they (the negroes) were the real Americans; the whites being the so-called "American Indians." As the flames of gossip spread from tongue to tongue, admonition was added that the white arrivals were dangerous and corrupt and the French should refrain from associating with the new arrivals.
Thus there was created an intense and bitter racial feeling that loomed gigantic and threatened open racial hostilities as the white and colored American troops traveled the same streets of a foreign village; were admitted to the same cafes and vied with each other for the friendship of the French populace.
Street fights were not infrequent, while scenes in cafes were enacted wherein white refused to sit in the same room with colored troops or vice-versa.
Persisting in their set standard of chivalry, the element of the white soldiers often took it as ordained to induce the French demoiselles to leave the company of their opposite in blood. Many of the colored troops were equally persistent, with the result that the breach of ill-feeling gaped bigger, until official cognizance came to bear.
Within a short time the 164th Brigade was withdrawn from Montmorillon, leaving the 311th to commence its active and intensive course of training on foreign soil.
On August 7th, the day of the 311th's arrival, the troops waited at the station for several hours while the billeting officers were locating billets throughout the town. Iron rations were partaken of at the station and everybody was glad that battery mess outfits would soon set up shop and the American Q. M. system of rationing would be resumed.
The march through the town to the various assigned billeting districts was started from the station at 9:30 o'clock. The batteries of the regiment were scattered in various billets throughout the town. Every vacant house, barn or shed that possibly could be pressed into service, was designated as a billet for the troops.
Battery D continued its march through the town; across the cement bridge over the Gartempe; into an octagon-shaped intersection of public streets, lined with several three-story buildings, the principal one of which gave evidence of being a cafe and bore the sign, "Cafe du Commerce."
Opposite the bridge, the route was along Rue de Strasburg, where, in the rear of the Cafe du Commerce, Battery D halted before a three-story stone structure that bore signs of having been vacated for many years.
The area billeting officer produced a large key, threw open the door and half the battery was ushered inside. It immediately fell their task to brush the cow-webs from the ceilings; gather up the fallen plaster from the floor; sweep out several years' accumulation of dirt and dust; while the old-fashioned shutters were pried open for the first time in many years and the sunshine streamed into the rooms, to drive away, to some degree, the mustiness of environment.