d Tarbes,
his birthplace, and the town nearest his home. Truly, the fates were
kind!

Two years were spent with the garrison at Tarbes, in a round of
regimental duties. Then the routine began to pall upon him. He wanted
something approaching active service. He had perfected himself in
artillery maneuvers; and during his four months as a volunteer in the
War, he had drilled in the infantry. So he now applied for transfer to
the third branch, the cavalry. His love of horses may also have
influenced this desire.

He received the transfer and spent a year in the Cavalry School at
Saumur. On completing this course he was given a commission as
Captain, and placed in command of a field battery, in Brittany. This
transfer marked the beginning of a new era in his life. From being a
Gascon, he was now about to become a Breton. He spent so many years of
his life in Brittany, that in later years he called his soldiers "my
brother Bretons."

Another reason for his change of sentiment was his fortunate marriage
to a lady whom he met at Rennes, where his regiment was
stationed--Mademoiselle Julie Bienvenue. Her name means "Welcome," and
to the lonely and possibly homesick soldier, her advent must have been
welcome indeed.

He bought a home in Finisterre, that wild, rocky, well-wooded cape
which juts out into the Atlantic. It was an old manor house set in the
midst of an estate which from the outset spelled the word "home" for
him. There were long sloping meadow lands flanked by stately trees and
hills beyond. The old house itself with its somber gray walls and
quaint dormer windows seemed always to have nestled here.

Such an idyllic setting, away out on the most sheltered spot of
France--far removed from the tramp of an invader, or the other changes
which came to the central provinces of France--while pleasant in the
extreme was hardly the fitting environment to produce a soldier, a real
fighting man. It might produce a fine preacher, or artist, or poet, or
farmer--but not likely a famous general.

But Foch did not yield to the blandishments of his new home to the
extent of vegetating here. His active mind was looking continually
forward. He could not rest content with mediocrity, or a merely
comfortable living. "Do what you ought, come what may" was his guiding
motto. He applied for admission to the Ecole de Guerre, a higher
school recently established for staff officers, but admission to its
walls came b