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country. That made him a contemporary of our Civil War veterans. I gave the old man a pipeful of Carthage Red Leaf smoking tobacco. It was too strong for my taste, but a former pupil at Carthage had sent me a bag containing two pounds of the stuff. That had happened because, when I was teaching at Carthage, I had bought Carthage Red Leaf and hypocritically pretended to like it. The old Frenchman seemed really to like it, and accepted another pipeful when the first was gone. So I have him the whole bag as a presnet. Madame his daughter hugged me in the presence of her husband. They had had trouble, she said, getting tabac for him. It was rationed and the [[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]] rations were skimpy.

Next day our ride turned out exactly as I had expected.  Sands did not bother us with the details of the war games in progress. He sought out rough ground to ride over. He made his horse jump gullies and small streams. He would go first, then turn around and watch us. The stable sergeant had given me a big sorrel that loved to jump and went everywhere that Sands did. Two or three men fell off.  Some of the horses refused to jump and had to be ridden or led around obstacles. We did not get back to battalion headquarters until 3 P. M. or so. Sands gave us a late lunch there. We got through it only an hour or so before dinner time at our battery mess. I was not hungry then , so I just went to my billet.

We had been told that the maneuvers were finished, and that the entire division could rest next day. Reveille was not to be until 8 o'clock, and after breakfast we were to march leisurely back to Marly. It was not so to be. Next day brought my first and only meeting with General Pershing.  It was also to be the most uncomfortable day of my military career.

[[strikethrough]] ^[[Note: The village I call Marly here appears as Marley on the later Michelin road maps. I still think its name in 1918 was Marly.]] [[/strikethrough]]