of the boarding house table cannot produce a
fermented article that is _tres fort_ in the way of a throat burner, is
greatly mistaken. In France the fermented juice of the prune is called
"water of life," but it carries a "dead to the world" kick. The simple
prune, which the army used to call "native son" by reason of its
California origin, now ranks with its most inebriating sisters of the
vine.

The flow of _eau de vie_ must have been dammed at the inn. On the road
the next day, I saw a mule driver wearing a sixteen candle power black
eye. When I inquired the source of the lamp shade, he replied:

"This is my first wound in the war of movement. Me and the cop had an
offensive down in that town that's spelt like Sissors but you say it
some other way." I knew he was thinking of Gisors.

The third and fourth day's march brought us into regions nearer the
front, where the movement of refugees on the roads seemed greater, where
the roll of the guns came constantly from the north, where enemy motors
droned through the air on missions of frightfulness.

There was a major in our regiment whose knowledge of French was confined
to the single affirmative exclamation, "Ah, oui." He worked this
expression constantly in the French conversation with a refugee woman
from the invaded districts. She with her children occupied one room in
the cottage. When the major started to leave, two days later, the
refugee woman addressed him in a reproving tone and with tears. He could
only reply with sympathetic "Ah, oui's," which seemed to make her all
the more frantic.

An interpreter straightened matters out by informing the major that the
woman wanted to know why he was leaving without getting her furniture.

"What furniture?" replied the puzzled major.

"Why, she says," said the interpreter, "that you promised her you would
send three army trucks to her house back of the German lines and bring
all of her household goods to this side of the line. She says that she
explained all of it to you and you said, 'Ah, oui.'"

The major has since abandoned the "ah, oui" habit.

At one o'clock one morning, orders reached the battalion for
reconnaissance detail; each battery to be ready to take road by
daylight. We were off at break of day in motor trucks with a reel cart
of telephone wire hitched on behind. Thirty minutes later we rumbled
along roads under range of German field pieces and arrived in a village
designated as battalion headquart