ing manoeuvers in the muddy fields about Varennes. This irritation was partially offset by a persistent rumor that we would soon entrain for a mysterious place known as "the Le Mans Area" where, said friend Rumor, all troops were sent prior to embarkation. This rumor was strengthened by gradual issues of new equipment and frenzied activities on the part of the "de-cootie-izer" as the steam-ovens, in which clothes were disinfected, were known.

                Then football started and foot-drill was indulged in during the long, gray mornings only. When the exhausted players, plastered from head to foot with liquid mud, would limp down the main street of Varennes, the townspeople would rush to their doors in amazement. Surely, the Americans were mad!

                One cold, gusty morning as we fell in for reveille at the grisly hour of 6.15, the Captain was seen to take his place before the Battery, carrying a great hand-full of papers. These he read aloud, while the Battery gasped and wondered. Could we believe our ears! Yes, we were ordered back to the States, that land where there was no mud and where people spoke intelligibly—ordered Home!

                We scattered to our billets to discuss the great news. True, no date had been set, but soon Rumor set that aright. We would probably leave Varennes by January 15, spend some ten days in the "Le Mans Area" and then embark at Brest, reaching Boston by the eighth of February at the very latest. So said friend Rumor. The one dark spot that we could see was that long, long hike to La Ferte to entrain.

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