This book is a record of the personal observations of a private soldier in the Flash Ranging Service of the American Expeditionary Forces in France. It not only relates his experiences while in France, but also tells of going over and returning. In brief, it is a soldier's story from the time he left America to help crush the autocracy of Germany, until he returned again after fighting was over. When the sun arose on the 22nd of June, 1918, three great transports were lying out in the stream of New York harbor. They were filled with American soldiers for duties overseas. They were well camouflaged and well convoyed. The previous afternoon they had pulled away from a Jersey City pier, where they had taken on their human cargoes, and they were undoubtedly under sealed orders. They had slipped away quietly from the piers without attracting undue attention, and while they moved to the location where they anchored for the night, not a soldier's uniform could have been detected from shore even after the most scrutinizing search with the best binoculars obtainable. The departure was made without a word of warning and not a fond good-bye. It was accomplished with a methodical silence that called for admiration. It is the way Uncle Sam does things during war times.
This book is a record of the personal observations of a private soldier in the Flash Ranging Service of the American Expeditionary Forces in France. It not only relates his experiences while in France, but also tells of going over and returning. In brief, it is a soldier's story from the time he left America to help crush the autocracy of Germany, until he returned again after fighting was over. When the sun arose on the 22nd of June, 1918, three great transports were lying out in the stream of New York harbor. They were filled with American soldiers for duties overseas. They were well camouflaged and well convoyed. The previous afternoon they had pulled away from a Jersey City pier, where they had taken on their human cargoes, and they were undoubtedly under sealed orders. They had slipped away quietly from the piers without attracting undue attention, and while they moved to the location where they anchored for the night, not a soldier's uniform could have been detected from shore even after the most scrutinizing search with the best binoculars obtainable. The departure was made without a word of warning and not a fond good-bye. It was accomplished with a methodical silence that called for admiration. It is the way Uncle Sam does things during war times.