And then he allotted the recreation problems of men in the hospitals to the Red Cross, and the recreation enterprises for men outside of hospitals to the Y. M. C. A.

He was brief, exact, candid and final.  He stood for the most part, as he talked; spoke low, fumbled for no word, and looked into his hearers’ eyes.  The politician looks over their shoulders.  We spoke for two or three minutes with him about the work of our troops this winter, and were impressed with the decision of the man.  He seemed—­perhaps subconsciously—­afraid that public opinion at home would demand that he put our men into the trenches to hold their own sector too early.  He evidently believed that during our first winter the men should go in by squads and perhaps companies or later in regimental units for educational purposes, working with the English and the French learning the trench game.  But we felt clearly that he believed strongly that it would be spring before we should occupy any portion of the line ourselves.  There was a firmness about him, not expressed in words.  No one could say that he had said what we thought he had conveyed to us.  Yet each of us was sure that the General would not be moved from his decision.  He breathes confidence in him into people’s hearts.  He never seems confidential; though he is entirely candid.  Again one feels sure that there is no court around him.  He seems wise with his own wisdom, which is constantly in touch with the wisdom of everyone who may have business with him.  He will not be knocked off his feet; he will do no military stunts.  The American soldiers will not go into action until we have enough troops to hold our part of the line and we will not start an offensive until we can back it up.  This all came glowing out of the firm, kind, wise, soldierly face of General Pershing, and it needed no words to verify it.  Superfluous words might have contradicted the message of his mien; for they might have added boast to simple statement.

It is all so orderly, so organized, so American, this thing we are doing in France.  It is like the effective manipulation of a great trust.  The leadership of the American forces in France in the army and in the Red Cross and the Y. M. C. A. is made up of men known all over the United States; the names of those leaders who are soldiers may not be mentioned.  They have dropped out of American civilian life so quietly that they are scarcely missed.  Yet for weeks we lived in the hotel with one of the prominent figures in American finance who is working eighteen hours a day buying supplies, assembling war material—­food, fuel, clothing—­putting up scores of miles of barracks, building a railroad from tidewater to the American headquarters, equipping it with American engines, freight cars, and passenger coaches; sinking piles for the first time in a harbour which has been occupied for two thousand years, and unloading great ships there which were supposed to be too big for that