dore of
the far South who had never seen such a sight in all his days.

The stevedore beheld arrive Negro signal men, monitors of their troops
and of a million whites behind them, death watch to the German enemy,
destined to be sentinels and patrolmen of No Man's Land. He saw pass by
black American scouts and spies and lookouts and pioneers headed for the
frontiers of France to gain an immortal halo of glory.

The stevedore found in his midst elegantly groomed, but speechless
Negroes whom, his friends whispered to him, belonged to the United
States Intelligence Department. They had come, so the wide-mouthed
stevedore was told, to pit their 35 ounces of brain against the German's
45 ounces, and to prove that the Hun back brain is surplus overweight
and should be reduced to Negro proportions. They had come to furnish
General Pershing information, news, tidings and dispatch, embassy and
bulletin, report and rumor. And the stevedore wondered if General
Pershing would expect these Negro men to report to him information with
precision and correctitude.

It was the Negro band, fresh from America, which gave the stevedore his
greatest delight. Preceding the black troops everywhere, it produced a
potpourri of full and semi-scores, melodies and plantation arias, that
came as a refreshing novelty to weary English hearts and to the souls of
jaded France.

But there were no Negro "big gun" men. The stevedore wondered if the
black boys of the 92nd Division would have to get into the fight with
Germany, depending upon the kind of barrage which some of the men whom
he knew in America might lay down for him. True, the Negro artilleryman
had been left behind in America. At Camp Taylor he was spurned and
rejected. But he refused to accept rebuff. He won his way into the
heart of commanding officer and subaltern, gained his training, made a
superior record, witnessed the outpouring of the entire white soldiery
of the camp to present arms and salute him as he went away to service,
and arrived in France in breathless haste in time to lay down a perfect
barrage for his black comrades as they advanced through the terrific
fighting in the Argonne and the Marbache. Long will stevedore tradition
recite the story of how these black "big gun men" came by.

The black stevedore represented a section of the United States. That
section was thoroughly well represented. There was work done better than
it ever had been done before. But, on the other