nd the taking out of war risk insurance, the
packing of duffle bags, and the boxing of all Q. M. supplies made us
ready for departure by the middle of the month, and waiting for orders
to France.

CHAPTER I

ON BOARD THE "PRESIDENT LINCOLN"

The mounting flames of a bonfire cast a flickering red light down the
battery street. Burning the whole night through, to consume boxes,
refuse and abandoned material of various kinds, these ruddy
illuminations in the quarters of the 149th Field Artillery, at Camp
Mills, Long Island, were omens of unusual, and unpublished, happenings.
The men of the regiment felt the nearness of these events, though they
had been given no warning of them, and slept, fully clothed, with their
packs still rolled as they had been at inspection the afternoon before.
Covered only by their overcoats, the boys tossed uneasily on their
canvas cots in the chilliness of the night. When one, awakened by the
cold, ventured to approach the bonfire to warm himself, the voice of a
sentry warned him away: "No one is allowed around the fire. Orders are
for no unusual appearance or noise." And the chilly one would return to
his tent, if not to slumber, muttering, "Tonight's the night, all
right!"

At 3:30 a. m., a whispered summons roused each man. A few, who had
scoffed at the omens the previous evening, rolled their packs by feeble
candles. All the cots were folded and piled in the shed at the end of
the street that had housed the battery kitchen. The cooks performed
their last rites there, by serving coffee and sandwiches. The last
scraps of paper and other litter in the battery street were "policed
up," and added to the now dying bonfire. Then the batteries were formed,
and the regiment, at 5 o'clock, October 18, 1917, marched silently out
of Camp Mills.

The hike to the railroad station was a short one. There the regiment
quickly boarded a waiting train, which pulled out at 6, to make the
brief journey to the ferry docks in Brooklyn. Quickly and quietly, the
men boarded the ferry. They had been instructed to make no noise,
attract no attention, and so shield the troop movement as much as
possible from public (and enemy) notice. But a ferry-boat load of
khaki-clad youths, when such ferry-boat loads were not so numerous as
they later became, could not fail to draw the eyes of the throngs on
their way to business. The journey around the Battery and up the Hudson
River was punctuated by cheers and sho