in uniform, but beer and light wines were obtainable all
the time. All cafes closed at 9:30. In spite of the ever present
opportunity to obtain beverages of the above character, there was many
and many an American soldier who tramped the boulevards and canvassed
the cafes, drug stores and delicatessen shops in search of a
much-desired inexistent, ice cream soda.

Many of our men spent their days most seriously and most studiously,
learning the mysteries of transportation on the busses and the Paris
underground system, while they pored over their guide books and digested
pages of information concerning the points of interest that Paris had to
offer. Holidays found them shuffling through the tiled corridors of the
Invalides or looking down into the deep crypt at the granite tomb of the
great Napoleon. In the galleries of the Louvre, the gardens of the
Tuilleries, or at the Luxembourg, the American uniform was ever present.
At least one day out of every ten day leave was spent in the palace and
the grounds at Versailles.

The theatres of Paris offered a continual change of amusement. One of
the most popular among these was the Folies Bergeres. Some of our men
didn't realise until after they entered the place that it was a French
theatre. Due to the French pronunciation of the name, some of the
American soldiers got the idea that it was a saloon run by an Irishman
by the name of Foley. "Bergere" to some was unpronounceable, so the
Folies Bergeres was most popularly known in our ranks as "Foley's
place."

Another popular amusement place was the Casino de Paris, where an echo
from America was supplied by an American negro jazz band, which
dispensed its questionable music in the _promenoir_ during the
intermission. There were five negroes in the orchestra and each one of
them seemed to have an ardent dislike for the remaining four.
Individually they manifested their mutual contempt by turning their
backs on one another while they played. Strange as it may seem, a most
fascinating type of harmony resulted, producing much swaying of
shoulders, nodding of heads and snapping of fingers among the American
soldiers in the crowd. French men and women, with their old world
musical taste, would consider the musical gymnastics of the demented
drummer in the orchestra, then survey the swaying Americans and come to
the conclusion that the world had gone plumb to hell.

All types of American soldiers made Paris their mecca as soon as