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The place was open and the crew was standing around, but I was told that no sales could be made during the lunch hour, which ended at 1:00.  It was an enlisted man who gave me that information.  I explained to him that I was on detached duty with the French, that I had not seen a PX for a month or more,and probably would not see one again for at least as long; and that my train was due to leave at 1:00.  The man consulted the lieutenant in charge.  The lieutenant ruled that we could not consummate the sale until 1:00.  He conceded that in the meantime my purchases could all be assembled and the bill added up.  If any currency had to be changed that could be attended to.  Thus at the stroke of 1:00 I should be able to lay my money on the counter, grab my merchandise and dash for the train.  I did, and the train left just as I was going out of the door of the PX.

I had left my only luggage (a musette, something like a flight bag) in my compartment on the train, and it was now on its way to Paris.  I went back to the lieutenant in the PX and asked, in effect, "What do I do now?".  The lieutenant kindly offered to telephone for me to the military police at Bar-le-Duc, the next stop up the line.  If I could supply the numbers of my car and compartment, he thought the M. P's could be persuaded to board the train and retrieve my bag.  Fortunately I had that information.  He telephoned and told me the matter was arranged. 

I went back to the PX counter, and bought a box of cigars, to reward the M.P's for expected favors.  I boarded a later train that afternoon.  When it reached Bar-le-Duc a man wearing an M.P. armband was standing on the platform, holding my bag in his hand.

It's marvellous how efficient we Americans are.