silent old city. One had only to take one look at that city to
realize that one of the mightiest struggles of human history took place
for its possession. Petain, the great French leader, won an immortal
place among military leaders for the defense of that city in 1916, and a
glance at the battlefield would convince one absolutely that he meant
those words "_On ne passe pas_." The cathedral in Verdun was badly
damaged; fourteen holes in one side of the building were counted and the
roof had three big gaps in it, and while the cathedral can be repaired,
yet its shell marks will be there forever. Another interesting thing
connected with Verdun is its underground city, capable of accommodating
forty-two thousand, and absolutely shell proof. The Germans shelled
Verdun regularly, dropping shells on certain crossroads and buildings at
exact intervals. One couldn't tarry in one place in that city, even if
he cared to, because an M. P. would firmly suggest "move along."

We were on the Verdun front when Austria capitulated, and were almost
fighting for newspapers in order to get the details. The question in
everyone's mind during our last days at Verdun was "How long will
Germany hold out?" We left Deramee on November 6th, having been relieved
by the "Wildcats," a division of soldiers not soon to be forgotten, and
we little knew that we had been on our last front.

MOVE TOWARD METZ, AND THE ARMISTICE

After a siege of about three weeks, our company was relieved from duty
in the sector north of Verdun, and we were all preparing for a good long
rest, and best of all, a thorough delousing at the hands of the official
"Cootie-cooking-brigade." As later developments will show, we realized
none of our anticipations, at least not at Erize-la-Grande.

The sector which we had just left was famous for at least three of the
war's most deadly weapons, viz.--Cooties (most of them wearing service
stripes), prize rats and German gas. The combined efforts of the three
made life hardly worth living at times, and a sigh of relief was
breathed when at last the task was at an end.

The village of Erize-la-Grande compared favorably with all other
villages in which we had been billeted, especially as regards street
scenes and sleeping quarters. These had evidently been constructed
during the dark ages, but whether those who inhabited them were afraid
of light or fond of darkness remains a secret.

On the night of November 7th, the wild