who are not accustomed to this manner of living,
they are quite comfortable compared to pup tents in a wet, soggy forest,
and especially at the end of a long hike by night with full equipment.

Benney was, we believe, the dirtiest village we have been in to date, so
consequently the next day we had to clean up the manure piles and refuse
left by the populace of this village. The village had, at one time, been
occupied by the Hun armies, who left their customary destructive
earmarks upon it. Those who remain consist mainly of women, children and
men too old for work. It can therefore be easily understood why its
streets were dirty and conditions in general were neglected.

We spent four days in the village, our duties being to clean up the
streets. We had become quite proficient with shovels and push-brooms, by
reason of previous experience, and strangely enough the men usually
chose this duty in preference to the daily duties of kitchen police and
guard. Most of us were badly in need of a bath, as all soldiers
generally are, and upon investigating discovered an old swimming hole
which we soon Americanized by taking a plunge every day during our short
stay there. We were entertained two evenings by the French movies while
here.

It was evident to us that a large troop movement was taking place, and
from the many precautions taken to avoid observation, it appeared that
the movement was of more than usual importance. Troops were marched only
at night and no lights of any kind were permitted, even smoking being
barred outside of cover. Kitchens were covered and mess lines were being
divided into sections so that Boche planes could see but a few men at a
time. We were told that we must get under cover and stay there whenever
hostile planes were about. No drilling was done and every effort made to
keep every evidence of the presence of troops hidden from observation.
All this could mean but one thing--a big attack was being prepared and
we would undoubtedly be in it. We were curious to know just when and
where it would be, but we had to be content with guessing, for the
secret of the St. Mihiel drive was well kept.

Leaving Benney, we hiked a distance of 13 kilos to a little village
called Haussonville, arriving there at 3:30 A. M. We had a very sloppy
march and passed our kitchen truck, stuck in the ditch by the roadside.
Of all trucks, this should have been the one to pull through, judging by
the yearning in the region o