turkeys of
the first winter in France. Eggs, boiled for breakfast, also appeared on
the menu for the last time, as did fresh fruit, such as apples, oranges
and bananas. Sweet potatoes were more plentiful than the Irish variety,
until one began to long for plain "spuds." Stew and beans became more
frequent as the voyage neared its close. But the men who ate in that
forward mess hall will never forget the meal with which Battery E, again
on "K. P.," celebrated our arrival in port at St. Nazaire on the
afternoon of October 31, 1917.

On the morning of the previous day we found that, instead of the cruiser
and destroyer which had escorted us across the Atlantic, there were on
all sides of us little, parti-colored craft that tore through the water
and careered all about us, French coast patrol boats. They were
camouflaged in that peculiar style, after the fashion of a cubist
painting, which was to become so common to our eyes later on. Far on the
horizon that morning we saw, too, a large fleet of merchant vessels
returning to the United States, and the terrific rolls that struck the
ship convinced us we were in the Bay of Biscay, nearing port.

"Land! Land!" was the cry next morning. Sure enough, there it was! We
thought some ex-New Yorker had memories of the island prison in the East
River when he said: "There's Belle Isle!" But so it was:
Belle-Ile-en-mer, a short distance from the harbor of St. Nazaire. We
reached the port at about 3 o'clock that afternoon, and were fast to the
dock an hour or two later.

Evening mess, which was usually begun at 3:30 or 4 o'clock, so that it
might be over by dark, was delayed till 5 that day, while everybody hung
over the rails to get their first sight of France. When they did
descend, however, Battery E was waiting to serve a meal worthy of the
day. Roast beef, Irish potatoes, gravy, bread and butter, tea, tapioca
pudding and fruit cake. Nor was the quantity stinted. "We're celebrating
tonight!" said Battery E, behind the serving tables, "Eat your fill,
boys!" And an extra helping went into the mess kits. When the long line
had all passed by, the kitchen had sent its last shred of meat, its last
drop of pudding to the mess hall. The allowance of cake for the meal had
been far exceeded, but the good-natured chief petty officer in charge of
the mess stores sent again and again for more.

Five more days were spent on board the boat. The first two passed slowly
enough. Much time was spe