2,992 paraders appeared the colors, and all hats came off with double reverence, for the Stars and Stripes and the blue regimental standard that two husky ebony lads held proudly aloft had been carried from here to France, from France to Germany and back again, and each bore the bronze token with its green and red ribbon that is called the Croix de Guerre.  Keen eyes could see these little medals swinging from the silk of the flags, high toward the top of the poles.

“At the end of the lines which filled the avenue came a single automobile, first, with a round-faced smiling white officer sitting in it and gazing happily from side to side.  This was Major Lorillard Spencer, who was so badly wounded that he came back in advance of the outfit some weeks ago.  There was a special racket of cheers for him, and then another for Major David L.  ’Esperance, also wounded and riding.

“Then a far different figure, but one of the most famous of the whole war.  Henry Johnson!  That Henry, once a mild-mannered chauffeur, who to protect his comrade, Needham Roberts, waded into a whole patrol of ‘bush Germans’ with a lot of hand grenades, his rifle and his trusty ‘steel’ in the shape of a bolo knife, and waded into them so energetically that when the casualties were counted there were four dead foemen in front of him, thirty-four others done up so badly they couldn’t even crawl away, and heaven knows how many more had been put to flight.

“And now Henry, in commemoration of this exploit, was riding alone in an open machine.  In his left hand he held his tin hat.  In his right he held high over his head a bunch of red and white lilies which some admirer had pressed upon him.  And from side to side Henry—­about as black as any man in the outfit if not a trifle blacker—­bowed from the waist down with all the grace of a French dancing master.  Yes, he bowed, and he grinned from ear to ear and he waved his lilies, and he didn’t overlook a bet in the way of taking (and liking) all the tributes that were offered to him.

“A fleet of motor ambulances, back of Henry, carried the wounded men who were unable to walk, nearly 200 of them.  But though they couldn’t walk, they could laugh and wave and shout thanks for the cheers, all of which they did.

“Almost before the happy colored folk could realize at the official stand that here were their lads back home again, the last of the parade rolled along and it was over.  With that formation and the step that was inspired by Lieutenant Europe’s band—­and by the Police Band which stood at 60th Street and kept playing after the music of the other died away—­it required only seventeen minutes for the regiment to pass.

“From this point north the welcome heightened in intensity.  Along the park wall the colored people were banked deeply, everyone giving them the first ranks nearest the curb.