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were so different and a constant reminder that I was in France and not America.

Not that I needed a reminder that I was in France, by any means. At Paris the military authorities checked my orders before they would give me a ticket, and on the train a French Capitaine investigated our identity cards (mine looks like convict #9999 etc, etc). And if we needed any more instances of [[underline]] where [[/underline]] we were and [[underline]] what [[/underline]] we were doing the echo of guns ^[[outside of]] Toul was sufficient unto the day.

Jack Sperry said, "Oh, pshaw, that's only a manhole blown off somewhere down the street." Jack is the squadron humorist. [[strikethrough]]illegible[[/strikethrough]] The aeroplanes overhead, the constant rush of French motor transports, the presence of Americans, Morroccans, and the faded blue troops were all on the side