-wheeled carts, all were mixed with the flow of infantry going and
coming and crowding the road-menders off the road.

There was none of the stateliness of the columns of British motor trucks
and none of the rigidity of British marching. It all seemed a great
family affair. When one wondered what part any item of the variegated
transport played it was always promptly explained.

Officers and men exchanged calls of greeting as they passed. Eyes were
flashing to the accompaniment of gestures. There were arguments about
right of way in which the fellow with the two-wheeled cart held his own
with the chauffeur of the three-ton motor truck. But the argument was
accompanied by action. In some cases it was over, a decision made and
the block of traffic broken before a phlegmatic man could have had
discussion fairly under way. For Frenchmen are nothing if not quick of
mind and body and whether a Frenchman is pulling or pushing or driving
he likes to express the emotions of the moment. If a piece of transport
were stalled there would be a chorus of exclamations and running
disputes as to the method of getting it out of the rut, with the result
that at the juncture when an outsider might think that utter confusion
was to ensue, every Frenchman in sight had swarmed to the task under the
direction of somebody who seemed to have made the suggestion which won
the favor of the majority.

Much has been written about the grimness of the French in this war.
Naturally they were grim in the early days; but what impresses me most
about the French Army whenever I see it is that it is entirely French.
Some people had the idea that when the French went to war they would
lose their heads, run to and fro and dance about and shout. They have
not acted so in this war and they never have acted so in any other war.
They still talk with eyes, hands and shoulders and fight with them, too.

The tide never halted for long. It flowed on with marvelous alacrity and
a seeming absence of system which soon convinced you as concealing a
very excellent system. Every man really knew where he was going; he
could think for himself, French fashion. Near the front I witnessed a
typical scene when an officer ran out and halted a soldier who was
walking across the fields by himself and demanded to know who he was and
what he was doing there.

"I am wounded, sir," was the reply, as he opened his coat and showed a
bandage. "I am going to the casualty clearing stati