raw fruit, and cheese.  The bread, of course, was black war bread, but crusty and fine.  That was my idea of a lunch for the gods.  What we got at the American mess was this:  a thick, frowsy, greasy soup—­a kind of larded dishwater; thin steak fried hard as nails, boiled beans with fried bacon laid on the beans—­not pork and beans, but called pork and beans—­with the beans slithery and hard and underdone; lettuce, cabbage, and onions soused in vinegar, white bread cut an inch thick, soft and spongy, boiled potatoes that had stood in the water after they were cooked done, and then bread pudding, made by pouring water on bread, sticking in some raisins, stirring in an egg, and serving a floury syrup over it for sauce!  There was enough, of course, to keep soul and body together.  But the cooking had spoiled a lot of mighty good food.  And Henry liked it!  There were two preachers with us, and they bragged about the “good old American cooking!” And when they heard me roar they said, “He is insulting the star-spangled banner,” and Henry threatened to take my pajamas out of his black valise!

[Illustration:  And he sat cross legged]

After passing through many villages crowded with our troops we came to the headquarters of the American Expeditionary forces.  We found General Pershing in a long brick building—­two or three stories high, facing a wide white parade ground.  The place had been used evidently as a barracks for French soldiers in peace times, and was fitted to the uses of our army.  We met a member of his staff, a sort of outer guard, and with scarcely a preliminary halt were taken to the general.  He seems easy of access, which is a sign that he plays no favourites and has no court.  Anyone with business can see him.  He met us in a plain bare room with a square new American-looking desk in the midst of it.  He sat behind the desk, cordial enough but with the air of one who will be pleased to have business start, and politenesses stop.  So we plunged straight to the business in hand.  We were from the American Red Cross in Paris, and our leader had come to get a definite idea of what part the Red Cross was to play in the recreation activities of the army.  The Y. M. C. A. was spending millions upon recreation problems.  The Red Cross had millions to spend.

Recreation in Paris, of course, means soldier hostels, homes, clubs, houses where American soldiers can go while in Paris on leave of absence.  The Red Cross had one single donation of one million dollars to be devoted to a club for American soldiers in Paris.  The Y. M. C. A had started to equip two or three great Parisian hotels as clubs.  The Red Cross had money donated for certain other recreation purposes in camp.  The Y. M. C. A. believed it should control the camp and Parisian recreation activities of the American troops.

We stated our case about as briefly as it is here written, and in three minutes.  In two minutes more General Pershing had assured us that there would be no need to spend money for hotels or clubs in Paris, that few soldiers would be given leave to go to Paris, and that the lavish expenditure of American money in Paris would be bad for America’s standing in France.