Transports heavily laden with United States troops steaming for foreign lands under heavy convoy of United States battleships and destroyers

I

N the early summer of 1917 the task of ferrying the American army to Europe was begun. It was an undertaking of colossal magnitude. To carry an army which Secretary Baker declared would number by the end of 1918 more than 1,500,000 men across 3,000 miles of open sea, in daily,even hourly, danger of submarine attack was an undertaking to

utmost our com

shipping, and of our navy who would have

tax to the mand of the skill officers

to con

duct the crowded troopships through the danger zone. Yet it was not until February 2, 1918, when about one-third of the task had been completed, that the first boche torpedo got home on a British transport, the Tuscania, and cost the lives of many American soldiers

whom she was carrying to England.

General John J. Pershing, "Black Jack" as he was called, fresh from his punitive expedition into Mexico in search of the bandit Villa, was appointed Commander-in-chief of the American forces in France and with his staff went thither in June. For a base of supplies was selected a little French town, the name of which it is not permissible to print but which is probably thoroughly well known to the Germans. It has an excellent harbor, and though well down the southern coast of

France possessed ample railroad facilities for distributing the hundreds of thousands of men who should presently pour through its gates. Not all of our men however went that way. Some were dispatched to England, and their reception as they marched through London's streets was enough to make every heart beat high, and cause every patriotic mind to rejoice that we had at last cast off the stigma of neutrality, and taken our places shoulder to shoulder with those who were fighting for humanity and democ

racy.

In France the troops were greeted with enthusiasm, almost with tears of joy. "You have come to save us!" was the usual French greeting. The little town which had been selected as a base was quickly made over by American capital and energy to meet the needs of the friendly invaders. Great docks and breakwaters were constructed, railroad sidings, new roads and camps capable of holding 100,000 men were established. The villagers strove to learn English, and the soldiers to speak in French with the result that a new international patois was developed. Commercially the village shop tried hard to please, and the second body of troops to arrive saw the once sedate little town transformed into a gay picnic place with as many souvenir and candy shops, and entertainment booths as Coney Island itself. An English journalist writing in September of 1917 thus describes the fashion in which the "Sammees"-as the French persisted in calling them despite our men's scornful rejection of the nickname-had made themselves at home.

The American troops in their billets, their camps, their training grounds, their rifle and gun practice grounds near the front, are already absolutely at home. The French villagers have adopted now a FrancoAmerican language-sister tongue, though different. to the now classic Anglo-French spoken for three years

from Calais downward. The American troops have made themselves at home, have settled all their arrangements with businesslike finality, and are out to do their job thoroughly. Their bases near the front seemed to me already definitely organized. They are settled in villages, where they disturb the villagers by aggressive sanitation. They have abolished all dunghills, to the old farmers' amazement and alarm. They have purified the water, cleaned up the streets, cottages, and farmyards. The villagers, at first terrified by these

wild measures, are now reconciled, and every little village grocery sells American matches, American tobacco, American groceries, sterilized milk, "canned goods," American mustard, and everything American except American whisky. For at the messes, where I was received with open arms as an ally of today and forever-no American officer makes any doubt about that-cold American purified water and French coffee with American sterilized milk are the only drinks. Villages of France have become American, and Ameri

can cafe au lait colored cars, and motor bikes with side-cars tear all over the country driven by university boys turned chauffeurs.

Our new allies are learning from us both -from us old allies, English and French. I first saw a French division in horizon blue teach the new American Army, in khaki and wearing British trench helmets, what a modern battle is like. It was a moving sight. It was poignant, really, when one heard that the French division had just come back from Verdun and was enacting over again in play what it had just done in terrible and glorious earnest. The American Staff stood on a knoll watching, with the French Staff explaining. On the edge of the hill to the left of the staff the new American Army watched.

on their arrival at Washington

came on. Every "poilu" among them

had just come from the real thing. He grinned as he played at war this time, and one felt how he must enjoy playing at it now. But he played very well and earnestly. The whole thing was done as one has before watched it being done under less reassuring circumstances for one's self.

The lines advanced in open formation, then stopped for the barrage fire to be pushed forward. Flares were sent up to signal to the artillery. There was another step forward under barrage fire, another (sham) barrage fire, more flares and rockets, the horizon-blue line crept cautiously around to take the first trenches, the machine-gun parties came up. One more barrage fire and more signals, then the boche trenches below us were taken.

It was all exactly as it would have been in real war. The American troops understood and appreciated keenly. Who would not? These play-actors in the hollow at our feet had just come from the real tragedy, and had fought and won, but had paid the price of victory.

The American soldier (officers told me) understands the manoeuvre well. The officers find that their men are quick at grasping individual field work, i.e., make admirable noncommissioned officers with initiative, enterprise, and intelligence.

officers I met speak very good French, give enthusiastic and intelligent assistance. French and Americans are not much alike in method or by temperament. I heard a French officer describing a battle with perfect technical accuracy, but also with dramatic expressiveness and with the literary sense. An American officer immediately translated the French into American, and it was American-short, sharp, almost crackling with crisp Americanisms. It was the same

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