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“This apple isn’t very ripe,” he observed, indicating by his digression that the question on his mind was not as vital as the importance of appeasing his appetite or of winning the war. “But the juice is sweet and pungent and I’m going to make a cider press of my jaws and squeeze the beverage down my throat.”

“If you haven’t forgotten your question, you may put it to me,” Phil returned more to the point.

“I was wondering what you meant when you remarked, ‘That’s what we needed,’ after the major made his little speech to us and we yelled our throats hoarse to prove we weren’t soft,” said Tim. “Were you afraid we really were soft?”

“No, not exactly,” Phil replied. “But I just had a kind o’ longing for proof that we weren’t.”

“But we’d proved ourselves at Verdun, hadn’t we?” Tim reasoned.

“Yes and no,” answered Phil. “At Verdun we fought all right, but we had a lot o’ French vets right at our elbows to ginger our nerve. Here, I understand, they’re going to give us a front all our own, ten or fifteen miles. I was talking to Corporal Ross about it. He’s been doing messenger service at the major’s headquarters and picked up a good deal of information. He says we’re bound for a place called Belleau Wood. The French call it Bois de Belleau. The Huns, you know, have been pressing the French pretty hard all the way from Rheims to Soissons, and we’ve been sent to relieve the French at this point so that they can stop the enemy at other points. But I’ve got a suspicion that a lot more American boys will be thrown in about here and we’re going to have a chance to make ourselves famous in the next few days.”