grit and
it proved beyond all question the capacity of American artillerymen to
stand by the guns.

The gunner corporal told the nurse at his bedside how it all happened,
but he was still under the effects of the anesthetic. He did not refer
to the morale of his battery mates because it had not occurred to him
that there was anything unusual in what they did. But he did think that
he could wiggle the toes on his right leg. The doctor told me that this
was a common delusion before the patient had been informed of the
amputation.

Incidents such as the one related had no effect whatever upon the
progress of the work. From early dawn to late at night the men followed
their strenuous duties six days a week and then obtained the necessary
relief on the seventh day by trips down to the ancient town of Besancon.

In this picturesque country where countless thousands fought and died,
down through the bloody centuries since and before the Christian era,
where Julius Caesar paused in his far flung raids to dictate new inserts
to his commentaries, where kings and queens and dukes and pretenders
left undying traces of ambition's stormy urgings, there it was that
American soldiers, in training for the war of wars, spent week-end
holidays and mixed the breath of romance with the drag of their
cigarettes.

The extender of Roman borders divided that region into three parts,
according to the testimony of the first Latin class, but he neglected to
mention that of these three parts the one decreed for American
occupation was the most romantic of them all.

* * * * *

It is late on a Saturday afternoon and I accept the major's offer of a
seat in his mud-bespattered "Hunka Tin." The field guns have ceased
their roar for the day and their bores will be allowed to cool over
Sunday. Five per cent. of the men at the post have received the coveted
town leave.

They form a khaki fresco on the cab and sides of the giant commissary
trucks that raise the dust along the winding white road over the hills.
Snorting motorcycles with two men over the motor and an officer in the
side car skim over the ground, passing all others. A lukewarm sun
disappears in a slot in the mountains and a blue grey mist forms in the
valleys. A chill comes over the air and a cold new moon looks down and
laughs.

It is a long ride to the ancient town, but speed laws and motor traps
are unknown and the hood of the Detroit Dilemma shak