The A. E. F.: With General Pershing and the American Forces

"You know," he began, "this war is costing me thousands of dollars. I was getting along great back home. A lot of factories had me for their doctor. My practice was worth $15,000 a year. It was all paid up, too, you know, workman's compensation stuff. I'll bet it won't be worth a nickel when I get back."

He sat and drummed on the table and looked out on the street and a couple of Portuguese went by in their slate gray uniforms and then some Russians, with their marvelous tunics, which Bakst might have designed; there were French aviators in black and red, and rollicking Australians, an Italian, looking glum, and a Roumanian with a girl on his arm.

"Did you ever read 'Ivanhoe'?" said the man with the $15,000 practice, fiercely and suddenly.

I nodded.

"Well," he said, "when I was a boy I read that book five times. I thought it was the greatest book in the world, and I guess it is, and all this reminds me of 'Ivanhoe.'"

"Of 'Ivanhoe'?" I said.

"Yes, you know, all this," and he made an expansive gesture, "Verdun, and Joffre, and 'they shall not pass,' and Napoleon's tomb, and war bread, and all the men with medals and everything. Great stuff! There'll never be anything like it in the world again. I tell you it's better than 'Ivanhoe.' Everything's happening and I'm in it. I'm in a little of it, anyway. And if I have a chance to get in something big I don't care what happens. No, sir, if I could just help to give the old Boche a good wallop I wouldn't care if I never got back. Why, I wouldn't miss this for – " His eyes were sparkling with excitement now and he was straining for adequate expression. He brought his fist down on the table until the glasses rattled. "I wouldn't miss this for $50,000 cash," he said.