ean--"Ah, there, Doc!"

A soldier had turned toward me, both hands still grasping his resting
rifle. In the "horizon blue" uniform and ugly, iron, shrapnel-proof helmet
strapped to his bullet head I failed to recognize him.

"It's me, 'Duck' Werner," he said, as I stood hesitating.... You know who
he is, political leader in the 50th Ward, here. I was astounded.

"What do you know about it?" he added. "Me in a tin derby potting
Fritzies! And there's Heinie, too, and Pick-em-up Joe--the whole bunch
sewed up in this here trench, oh my God!"

I went over to him and stood leaning against the parapet beside him.

"Duck," I said, amazed, "how did _you_ come to enlist in the Foreign
Legion?"

"Aw," he replied with infinite disgust, "I got drunk."

"Where?"

"Me and Heinie and Joe was follerin' the races down to Boolong when this
here war come and put everything on the blink. Aw, hell, sez I, come on
back to Parus an' look 'em over before we skiddoo home--meanin' the dames
an' all like that. Say, we done what I said; we come back to Parus, an' we
got in wrong! Listen, Doc; them dames had went crazy over this here war
graft. Veeve France, sez they. An' by God! we veeved.

"An' one of 'em at Maxeems got me soused, and others they fixed up Heinie
an' Joe, an' we was all wavin' little American flags and yellin' 'To hell
with the Hun!' Then there was a interval for which I can't account to
nobody.

"All I seem to remember is my marchin' in the boolyvard along with a guy
in baggy red pants, and my chewin' the rag in a big, hot room full o'
soldiers; an' Heinie an' Joe they was shoutin', 'Wow! Lemme at 'em. Veeve
la France!' Wha' d'ye know about me? Ain't I the mark from home?"

"You didn't realize that you were enlisting?"

"Aw, does it make any difference to these here guys what you reelize, or
what you don't? I ask you, Doc?"

He spat disgustedly upon the sand, rolled his quid into the other cheek,
wiped his thin lips with the back of his right hand, then his fingers
mechanically sought the trigger guard again and he cast a perfunctory
squint up at the parapet.

"Believe me," he said, "a guy can veeve himself into any kind of trouble
if he yells loud enough. I'm getting mine."

"Well, Duck," I said, "it's a good game----"

"Aw," he retorted angrily, "it ain't my graft an' you know it. What do I
care who veeves over here?--An' the 50th Ward goin' to hell an' all!"

I strove to readjust my mind to understand what h