of French
colonials, all veterans of the war and many of them incapacitated for
front service through wounds and age. French soldiers on leave from the
trenches and still bearing the mud stains of the battle front life,
cheered from the sidewalks. Bevies of middinettes waved their aprons
from the windows of millinery shops. Some of them shouted, "Vive les
Teddies!" America--the great, good America--the sister republic from
across the seas was spoken of and shouted all day long. Paris
capitulated unconditionally to three companies of American infantry.

From that day on, every American soldier visiting Paris has been made to
feel himself at home. And the unrestricted hospitality did not seem to
be the result of an initial wave of enthusiasm. It was continuous. For
months afterward, any one wearing an American uniform along the
boulevards could hear behind him dulcet whispers that carried the words
_tres gentil_.

At first, our enlisted men on leave in Paris or detailed for work in the
city, were quartered in the old Pipincerie Barracks, where other
soldiers from all of the Allied armies in the world were quartered. Our
men mingled with British Tommies, swarthy Italians and Portuguese, tall
blond Russians, French poilus, Canadians, Australians and New
Zealanders. At considerable expense to these comrades in arms, our men
instructed them in the all-American art of plain and fancy dice rolling.

Later when our numbers in Paris increased, other arrangements for
housing were made. The American policing of Paris, under the direction
of the Expeditionary Provost General, Brigadier General Hillaire, was
turned over to the Marines. Whether it was that our men conducted
themselves in Paris with the orderliness of a guest at the home of his
host, or whether it was that the Marines with their remarkable
discipline suppressed from all view any too hearty outbursts of American
exuberance, it must be said that the appearance and the bearing of
American soldiers in Paris were always above reproach.

I have never heard of one being seen intoxicated in Paris, in spite of
the fact that more opportunities presented themselves for drinking than
had ever before been presented to an American army. The privilege of
sitting at a table in front of a sidewalk cafe on a busy boulevard and
drinking a small glass of beer unmolested, was one that our men did not
take advantage of. It was against the law to serve any of the stronger
liqueurs to men