France, and while passing through Brest a heavy cold winddriven rain began to fall which soon soaked us through. We had to be carried by lighters to the Leviathan and each lighter could only carry about two to three hundred men. M, being the last company in line, had to patiently wait its turn. Standing for hours in a cold rain waiting our turn to board the ship was nerve taxing but I failed to hear a complaint. Slowly we worked our way to the shelter of the dock and there received the numbers of our sleeping quarters. For another hour we patiently waited, but under shelter this time, where we could get hot drinks from the K. of C. and the Y. M. C. A. booths.

Finally, in the later afternoon, M piled into the lighters and away we went. Pulling alongside the Leviathan we had to crawl through an opening that let us into the bowels of this giant liner. As we crawled through, sailors directed us to our quarters. We did little wondering about the ship for most of us were dog-tired and dripping wet. After resting and getting some food we felt better. About eight o'clock a call was sent out for volunteers to load the coal. The sooner the bunkers are filled, the sooner we would start home. Every man stepped forward, names were taken, reliefs made, and once again the 105th became stevedores. How the boys did work! They flew into the job the same as they did into Jerry. They passed coal all night long and part of the next day, until all the barges were empty and the bunkers filled; then we removed from our body and clothes as best we could the signs of our labors. The trip back was lacking in excitement of any kind. We played cards, visited our friends in the various companies and did everything possible to speed up the time that was weighing so heavily on our hands. It was calm most of the home trip but on the fifth or sixth day out we ran into a heavy storm which caused severe discomfort to some of the poor sailors among us.

At 2 A. M. on March 7th the writer was pulled out of his bunk to do a trick of guard for two hours. Guard now simply meant that each compartment had to have a sergeant always awake in the event of any unforseen incident happening. Finishing my trick at 4 A. M., I woke my relief sergeant and sauntered up on deck. It was a wonderful morning to be on the deck of an ocean liner; it was cold but refreshing and we were

heading into a strong head-wind. The sailors were beginning their early morning duties, ropes and chains being straightened and decks scrubbed. The first sign of dawn was beginning to . show itself in the East; first, a faint sign of light, then gradually from gray the sky-line began to take on a faint pink and soon after touches of orange began to herald the approach of the sun. Over the starboard side I began to imagine 1 saw a broken outline of something standing against the sky-line. As the light became brighter, this outline began to stand out more prominently. Whoops! Land! And I bolted below to inform the boys. I wasn't the only one aboard who had seen land for the cry passed through the entire ship. A few came on deck but many of them thought more of sleeping than the sight of land. When passing the Ambrose Lightship, our decks were crowded with men who shouted their greetings in response to the whistles and waving from the lighter boats which began coming out to meet us and escort us in. By the time the Leviathan poked her nose into the narrows, the men on board had taken up every position that would afford a view; they were in the rigging, on the giant freight booms, they were everywhere they could get a foothold; the port-holes outlined happy faces. Each and every one of us were straining our eyes to be the first to see dear old Liberty, to gaze once again on the skyscrapers we knew so well.

As we crept up to quarantine small craft loaded with welcomers began to poke their way through the early morning mist. Upon nearing the Battery, what a sight! The harbor was packed with boats of all kinds and each boat packed to capacity. Whistles shrieked, flags waved. The faster boats came alongside and anxious people with uplifted faces called, asking if so and so was there. Excursion boats with bands playing the familiar airs; airs that we had marched away to. The shores were lined; skyscrapers extended extended their welcome. WHAT A SIGHT WHAT A WELCOME! At first we failed to respond, we felt something within us that we couldn't understand; a lump rising in our throats, a tugging at the heart-string. More and more boats sailed out, more bands began to play, but the band that struck up "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here" received a frigid silence. The gang wasn't all there, and at just such a time as

this the tune was unappreciated. Tugs came out and slowly the Leviathan was warped into her berth at Hoboken. No time was lost; we were unloaded soon as the gang-planks could be laid, and away we went. The K. of C.-Salvation Army and Y. M. C. A. tried to out-do each other. They fed us, gave us candy, cigarettes and even handkerchiefs. We were loaded on to ferries and taken to Long Island City where we entrained for Camp Upton. My, such a greeting the ferry-house was jammed; the lane to our train was lined with wives, sweethearts, friends and the curious; they gave us everything they had; gum, candy, anything we asked for we received. Then we were loaded on trains, real trains, two men to a seat, soft seats. Some difference between these and our 40 Hommes 8 Cheval. It was dark when we reached Camp Upton but we felt at home, for this wasn't the first time we had made camp in the dark. They assigned us to barracks; each man had a cot and so we spent our first night in the old U. S. When things were straightened out a bit there was a general scramble for a telephone booth, for we N. Y. boys had families who needed a bit of hello-ing.

The morning following our arrival we were marched away to the de-lousing baths. As we entered we were handed a barrackbag in which we stuffed our clothes, then turned them in to be placed in the high-pressure steam furnaces which killed any vermin or their eggs that might be in the clothes. We then adjourned to the showers for the first real hot bath we had in months, with no time limit. Next on the list was to retrieve our clothes and dress. Any clothing that was torn or unserviceable could be exchanged at the Q. M. in the dressing room. No man was to leave camp without permission for the M. P.'s would stop you. Yes? The M. P.'s didn't stop us, and personally I think it very wise on their part that they didn't. Formations consisted of Reveille, when a roll check was made. The attendance was fair. March 26th we entrained at Mineola and came into the 71st Regiment Armory in preparation for the parade on March 27th. Those who lived in New York were permitted to sleep at home; the others spent the night at the armory.

Early Tuesday, March 27th, a beautiful day but entirely too hot for parading in full equipment, found the various units of the 27th in their respective places in the side streets of lower

New York. The parade was to start at 9 o'clock sharp. It did, but M, after hours of restless waiting, started at 11:15. Orders were to hike for twenty-five minutes and rest five. All New York seemed to be present; the streets, every available window and other places of vantage were utilized. The reception tendered us was wonderful but none of us cared a hang for parading. Such heat-it was Hell! The streets threw hot breath back into our faces and we received no rest; then they double timed us for five or six blocks; quick time for four blocks, then more double time. Men began to fall out in a dead faint, yet no rest. From 8th Street to about 100th Street we received no rest, then as troops began to clog about 116th Street and the streets below to 110th Street, where General O'Ryan reviewed us, they had to bring us to a halt. We had lost all interest in parades by that time for we were absolutely fagged out. People showered us with fruit, candy, gum; anything they had they threw to us.

After the parade we were put on trains and taken back to the 71st Armory and dismissed until the following day when we entrained and went to Camp Upton. There we stayed four days, turned in equipment and government property, received our final medical examination, checked up all company paper-work and on April 1st, 1919, they handed us our discharges, gave us our final pay and $60 as a present and we became civilians once again. No one to order you about, no more details, no more anything except to try and readjust one's self to conditions enjoyed by civilians.

REMINISCENCES OF A CAPTAIN

By MAJOR RAYMOND F. HODGDON

There was no sleep for anyone in camp that night and each succeeding day saw four more companies depart. Many officers from our old regiment were present to see us off and there were many wives and sweethearts, somewhat stunned by the sudden change of events. Those poor wives! I close my eyes and can see their tear-stained faces as they were that day when we marched out of camp. I can also picture the battlefields where I last saw their loved ones, many of them old friends. I can see their death-blue faces, their glassy eyes staring at me and those awful shell-torn bodies twisted in every conceivable position, or blown in every direction. It is not very pleasant to run across and recognize the severed leg or arm of a comrade, for one expects any moment to find his head.

The bunk arrangement below decks for the men was an intricate affair and appeared like a maze until it had been studied and gone over a few times. The food was excellent and though the men received only two meals a day, they were well satisfied, . a condition which I had never known to exist before and only once since; that was after an advance and our mess sergeant had received rations for 176 men when we had only 49 left to feed.

The weather was ideal and we spent most of the day lolling about the decks. There was no excitement the first half of our voyage, except now and then a man lost his hat overboard, when his comrades would beat him over the head until he found a sock or something to pull over his ears. We were wearing campaign hats and under the circumstances I thought the men who lost theirs were small in number. However, the Colonel thought