"

Just as the Negro folk-songs--or songs of war, interpreted with the
characteristic Negro flavor--stirred all France and gave poilu and
populace a taste of the real American music, the marvelous "jazz bands"
kept their feet patting and their shoulders "eagle-rocking" to its
infectious motion. High officials are said to have been literally
"carried away" with the "jazz" music furnished by the colored bands
"over there" during the war. General Petain is said to have paid a
visit, at the height of the hostilities, to a sector in which there were
American troops and had "the time of his life" listening to a colored
band playing the entrancing "jazz" music, with some Negro dance stunts
in keeping with the spirit of the melodies. He warmly congratulated the
colored leader upon the excellence of the work of his organization, and
thanked him for the enjoyable entertainment that had been given him.

The stolid Briton is scarcely less susceptible to the "jazz" than his
volatile French brother, for when another colored band from "The States"
went to London to head a parade of American and English soldiers, and
halted at Buckingham Palace, it is said that King George V and Queen
Mary heard the lively airs with undisguised enthusiasm and were loath to
have the players depart for the park where they were scheduled for a
concert, with a dance engagement, under British military control, to
follow. The colored bands scored heavily with the three great Allied
Powers of Europe by rendering with a brilliant touch and matchless
finish their national anthems, "God Save the Queen," "La Marseillaise"
and the "Marcia Reale."

NOVEMBER 11, 1918

(This letter was written by a young first lieutenant (colored) in the
366th Infantry, Company L, 92nd Division, Cleveland, Ohio.)

November 11th.

My dearest Mother and Dad:

Well, folks, it's all over but the flowers. Yesterday it was war,
hard, gruelling, hideous. Today it is peace.

This morning I formed my platoon in line in the woods behind the
line. They didn't know why. They were just a bunch of tired,
hard-bitten, mud-spattered, rough-and-tumble soldiers standing
stoically at attention, equally ready to go over the top, rebuild a
shell-torn road, or march to a rest billet. At 10:45 I gave the
command: "Unload rifles!" They didn't know why and didn't
particularly care. Then-