you wanted them to go. No one will ever know how unsurpassingly aggravating an army horse is until he has hauled along a few mangy bags of bones all day on such a hike as this one.

And so we struggled on by little cities of Adrian barracks, hoping each place was the one where we were to stop for the night, coming to the road that led to each, eagerly waiting to see the head of the column turn in, passing by, lapsing back with additional disappointment. An endless afternoon slowly wore away, the indefatigable rain always upon us, when, just before dark, we found ourselves drawn up in a quagmire at Neufchateau. We dreaded to move. We dreaded the order to dismount even though we knew the sooner our work was over the quicker we could get under cover. We had spirit for nothing.

In that mire, in that rain, in that cold, we left the weary horses tied to picket lines, shouldered all our reeking equipment, and straggled countless kilo­ meters, it seemed, to the camp in the town. We were led into a great building once used as a horse ring and now filled with bales upon bales of hay. Ages we waited for supper and then there was enough for only about half the men; the other half went supperless. Some sneaked out by the guard and sought supper in the town; perched high on the bales of hay, the others sought refuge and consolation between a couple of blankets in which the water oozed.

We must have been in bed at least two minutes when, Morse Code "dot dash" shrieked out of the top sergeant's whistle, and we were routed out with a heartless flashlight. Someone had been blessed with

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