Headquarters 5th French Army. Col. de Lardemelle, chief of staff to General Franchet d'Esperey, in centre. The French officers are highly trained and efficient. ''One notable military fact of this war is that France appears to be extremely well equipped with highly educated and seasoned officers."

the military phase of the conflict; he is just as clear on the political issues which he thinks are being argued on the battlefield, and upon the big reconstructive work which, in his opinion, must be done if the Allies win. For this fighting General is something of a statesman as well as a soldier, although first and last and in every fiber of his being, Franchet d'Esperey is the soldier. Born in Algiers, he has taken part in every military conflict France has had almost since his boyhood-in Africa, China, Tonking, Indo-China, Madagascar, in short, in every part of the world where France's battle flag has waved or French guns have thundered.

At his businesslike headquarters, the dominant impression which the visitor gets is that of discipline; rigid, exacting and stern. Orders are given with cleancut abruptness-with force not to be misunderstood. A not unimportant officer comes panting in response to a sudden command to report. He gets his clear, brief instruction, and, "Hurry, now!" explodes the General -the curt words leap from his lips like the shell from a "75."

The General's chief aide, Colonel de Lardermelle, is quite as peremptory. "He is a magnificent soldier, and a martinet," an officer informs you.

He looks and acts the part. He is a professional soldier, as is General Franchet d'Esperey himself, and indeed, all of the higher commanding officers up to the supreme head of the army, and of the nation, General Joffre himself. This fighting chief aide of a fighting General is of a family of professional soldiers, you are told; six brothers there were, three already dead

on the field of battle, yet no smallest sign of a visible impression made upon the three who remain, you are informed; for with them it is an incident of duty, a part of the day's work, the fortune of war. There is no nonsense about General Franchet d'Esperey, his chief aide, nor indeed his whole staff. It is business with them, direct, blunt, imperative, not to be questioned. The great and deadly business of war!

This much is said of these men because they are excellent examples of the French officer; and one notable military fact of this war is that France appears to be extremely well equipped with highly educated and seasoned officers. If, as is the common report, the new volunteer British officers are not well trained, they are sure to get sharp instruction from the French officers, so administered as to be obeyed, whether compliance is agreeable or not.

"Like Indians, eh?" remarks General Franchet d'Esperey, as he points toward a collection of huts not far from the road. They are constructed of small branches of trees and thatched with straw or dried branches. They are the homes of soldiers who, it is said, prefer these abodes to the more civilized accommodations of well-built houses. Many of the redtrousered, blue-coated and red-capped "hairy ones," as the French call their soldiers in this war, are about their various daily tasks; some are washing, some mending clothes; some writing, some doing this, that, or the other. Without exception, all appear robust and in the high tide of health. You note the physical fitness of the men all day long.

"They are well fed, and the open-air life is good for

them," explains the General. "They really enjoy it." And, the next day many miles away: "What do you think of our men?" inquires an officer after your long hard hours among the booming guns and in the crowded trenches, almost encircled by the German warpits, had drawn to its interesting close.

"They are a healthy-looking lot," you answer. "The campaign does not seem to hurt them physically."

"On the contrary, life at the front has actually improved their physical condition," explains the officer. "You see, they are in the open air all the time. Then they have good wholesome food and plenty of it. The mind is occupied, too—something is liable to happen any minute. And then there is nothing for them to drink-no alcoholic drink, I mean. In short, their lives are simpler, more normal. That explains the improvement in their health."

Soon our automobile approaches Rheims :

"They shelled the town yesterday-seventeen people were killed," observes the General casually; "and,” he continues reassuringly, "they bombarded it this morning, also, although we have no troops in the town.”

"Why waste powder on it then?" you inquire.

"Heaven knows! You never can tell what they will do! We may get some shells ourselves. That's why I sent back the other automobiles. They can see us," he explains, "and more than one automobile at a time would attract attention. The Germans would think something was up. And there is no especial point in getting shot at just for the fun of the thing."

Laughing at this quaint, military humor, into Rheims you go. No shells fall, however, during your