order not to go outdoors or on the roof. It was a simple device to keep us
from exploring the boulevards of the city. We might have been tempted to do
that, for we had seen none of the charming French girls as yet, and they
are--_tres charmante_.

About six o'clock that evening we got the customary--the eternal--bully
beef and biscuits. At seven we were ordered to advance to the front line
trenches. Our captain gathered us around him. He wanted to talk to us
before we went "in" for the first time. He was, possibly, a little
uncertain of our attitude. He knew we were fighters all right, but our
discipline was an unknown quantity. Captain Straight, I understand, was
American-born, from Detroit, Michigan. We liked him. Later we almost
worshiped him. We took all he said to heart. We listened intently; not a
word did we miss. I can repeat from memory that pre-trench speech of his.

"Boys," the captain's voice was solemnity itself. "Boys, to-night we are
going into the front line trenches. We are going in with soldiers of the
regular Imperial Army. We are going in with seasoned troops. We are going
in alongside men who have fought out here for weeks. We've got to be very
careful, boys."

Our captain was obviously excited. We strained closer to him.

"You don't know a darn thing about war, lads ... I know you don't."

We fell back a pace somewhat abashed. We had been under fire that very
afternoon; but the captain (fortunately) did not know it.

"You don't know the first thing about this war. You've not had
opportunities of asking about it from wounded men. Now, boys, I know