liked them. And many a
pleasant draught they had from the big pinaud canteen that always came
fresh from the huge cask. How courteously they taught the doughboy
machine gunner the little arts of digging in and rejoiced at the rapid
progress of the American.

How now, Paul, my poilu comrade, bon ami, why don't you add the house
itself to the pack on your back? Sure, you'll scramble along somehow to
the rest of the camp in the rear, and on your way you will pass bright
remarks that we non compree but enjoy just the same, for we know you are
wishing the doughboy good luck. How droll your antics when hard luck
surprises. We swear and you grimace or paw wildly the air. And we share
a common dislike for the asperity shown by the untactful, inefficient,
bulldozing old Jack.

Here is a good story that "Buck" Carlson used to tell in his inimitable
way. Scene is laid in the headquarters of the British Colonel who is
having a little difficulty with his mixed command that contains soldiers
of America, France, Poland, China, where not, but very few from England
at that time. A French sergeant with an interpreter enters the room and
salutes are exchanged. The sergeant then orders his comrade to convey
his request to the colonel.

"Ker-nell, par-don," says the little interpreter after a snappy French
salute which is recognized by a slight motion of the colonel's thumb in
the general direction of his ear. "Ze sarzhont, she say, zat ze French
man will please to have ze tobak, ze masheen gun am-mu-nish-own and ze
soap."

"But, my man," says the colonel reddening, "I told you to tell the
sergeant he should go on as ordered and these things will come later, I
have none of these things now to give him, but they will soon arrive and
he shall be supplied. But now he must hurry out with his detachment of
machine gunners to help the Americans. Go, my man." More salutes and
another conversation between the two French soldiers with arms and spit
flying furiously.

"Ker-nell, sir, par-don, again, but ze sar-zhont, she say, zat wiz-out
ze to-bak, ze am-mu-nish-own and ze soap, he weel not go, par-don,
ker-nell!"

This time the colonel was angered to popping point and he smote the
table with a thump that woke every bedbug and cockroach in the building
and the poor French interpreter looked wildly from the angry British
colonel to his tough old French sergeant who now leaped quickly to his
side and barked Celtic rejoinder to the colonel's fis