icers were behind with pistol and machine gun
persuasion, now grew sick of this imaginary war in Archangel. One
company going out to the front on March 27th, was actually singing in
very jubilation because they were getting away from battalion mess and
"stand-to" for riot-scare.

A distinguished citizen of the world, Sir Ernest Shakleton, visited the
city of Archangel in the winter. But no one ever saw him try to navigate
Troitsky Prospect in his own invention, the Shakleton boot. How dear to
his heart are the thoughts of that boot, as the doughboy recalls his
first attempts to walk in them. The writer's one and only experience
with them resulted in his taking all the road for steering his course
and calling for the assistance of two brother officers--and "Chi" was
the strongest he had drunk, too. Of course the doughboy mastered the art
of navigating in them. For downright laughableness and ludicrity the
Charlie Chaplin walk has nothing on the Shakleton gliding-wabble. The
shimmy and the cheek dance would not draw a second look while a stranger
could grin audibly at the doughboy shuffle-hip-screwing along in
Shakleton's. Many a fair barishna on Troitsky Prospect held her furs up
to conceal her irrepressible mirth at the sight. Aw, Shakletons.

Allusion has been made to the battalion mess of bully and "M. and V."
Another part of the British issue ration was dried vegetables, which the
soldiers nicknamed "grass stew," much to the annoyance of one Lt.
Blease, our American censor who read all our letters in England to see
that we did not criticise our Allies. One day at Soyla grass stew was on
the menu, says a corporal. One of the men offered his Russian hostess a
taste of it. She spat it out on the hay before the cow. The cow was
insulted and refused either stew or hay. Much was done to improve the
ration by General Ironside who accepted with sympathy the suggestions of
Major Nichols. Coffee finally took the place of tea. More bread and less
hard tack was issued. Occasionally fresh meat was provided. But on the
whole the British ration did not satisfy the American soldier.

This leads to a good story. One day during the Smolny riot-scare the
writer with a group of non-commissioned officers in going all over the
area to discover its possibilities for tactics and strategy, visited the
Russian Veterinarian School. Here we saw the poor Russki pony in all
stages of dissection, from spurting throat to disembowelment and
horse-