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of them had been born German subjects because Germany had annexed Alsace after the war of 1870. All had served in the German army in peacetime, but had deserted to join the French in 1914.

When the French closed Saumur as a cavalry school they left there for our benefit a number of marvellously trained horses, the stable crews, and several riding instructors. We had about half a day of riding each week. Our riding instructor was a cavalry lieutenant, Jacques Boutet, as handsome a man and as graceful a rider as I have ever seen.

When I revisited Saumur with Helen in 1938 the street that runs past the school had been renamed the Avenue Foch. I forget what it was called in 1917. But across that street from the main building were the stables, four or five huge riding halls and an open space called Chardonnet. In the old days the Chardonnet had been the ^[[strikethrough]]s[[/strikethrough]] scene of riding exhibitions at graduation time. One day in my first week, walking across it, I saw one of our Americans being dragged by a runaway horse. It turned out that he had undertaken to ride while wearing wrapped cloth puttees, a most imprudent thing to do. Somehow he had fallen off and the puttee became entangled in the stirrup. It had unwound as far as his shoe, but had stuck there. He was not seriously injured, but one side of his face was badly skinned and bleeding from being rubbed in the gravel. He was from New York city and his name was Jeff Feigel. The name became fixed in my memory because it made the newspapers a few months later. Feigel was the first American officer to be killed in combat in World War 1. 

A bridle path led from the Chardonnet along a small stream to a big field which belonged to the school. There we had space to let the horses run. On rainy days we rode in one of the big halls. There ^[[we]]worked at the hurdles, raising the hurdle one notch after each ^[[strikethrough]]succe[[/strikethrough]] successful jump. We were also put through trick riding, such as keeping both hands hight in the air, with the reins loose on the horse's neck, and jumping the hurdles that way. In that same posture we were made to gallop around in ever-tightening circles. You had to lean inward to keep from falling off. The faster the pace, and the smaller the circle, the more you had to lean, but you could also fall off by leaning too far. A French cavalry major, with a stern face and a resonant bass voice, often directed those indoor exercises. Watching