the final bars of the "Star Spangled Banner" crashed out and every
saluting hand came snappily down, one American soldier on an upper deck
leaned over the rail and shouted to a comrade on the shore his part of
the first exchange of greetings between our fighting men upon this
historic occasion. Holding one hand to his lips, he seriously enquired:

"Say, do they let the enlisted men in the saloons here?"

[Illustration: THE FIRST AMERICAN FOOT ON FRENCH SOIL]

[Illustration: THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF FRANCE]

Another soldier standing near the stern rail had a different and more
serious interrogation to make. He appeared rather blase about it as he
leaned over the rail and, directing his voice toward a soldier on the
dock, casually demanded:

"Say, where the Hell is all this trouble, anyhow?"

These two opening sorties produced a flood of others. The most common
enquiry was: "What's the name of this place?" and "Is this France or
England?" When answers were made to these questions, the recipients of
the information, particularly if they happened to be "old-timers in the
army," would respond by remarking, "Well, it's a damn sight better than
the Mexican border."

As our men came over the ship's side and down the runways, there was no
great reception committee awaiting them. Among the most interested
spectators of the event were a group of stolid German prisoners of war
and the two French soldiers guarding them. The two Frenchmen talked
volubly with a wealth of gesticulation, while the Germans maintained
their characteristic glumness.

The German prisoners appeared to be anything but discouraged at the
sight. Some of them even wore a smile that approached the supercilious.
With some of them that smile seemed to say: "You can't fool us. We know
these troops are not Americans. They are either Canadians or Australians
coming from England. Our German U-boats won't let Americans cross the
ocean."

Some of those German prisoners happened to have been in America before
the war. They spoke English and recognised the uniforms of our men.
Their silent smiles seemed to say: "Well, they don't look so good at
that. We have seen better soldiers. And, besides, there is only a
handful of them. Not enough can come to make any difference. Anyhow, it
is too late now. The war will be over before any appreciable number can
get here."

But the stream of khaki continued to pour out of the ship's side.
Company after company of our men, load