Bittleson, Captain Rankin's batman, who happened to be looking out of
the top window at the time, swore that the bomb which went through the
roof beside him had grazed his forehead.
The bomb which had failed to explode in the square was taken
possession of by our staff sergeant and placed on my laboratory table
as a souvenir. A staff officer from headquarters, fortunately, came
along before we returned and bore it off to his chief after promising
to return it. Needless to relate it never came back, much to my relief
and to the disgust of the staff sergeant who on several occasions
referred to the iniquity of this high handed action.
On Easter Sunday we were invited to some sports by the divisional
cavalry. As we drove up to the orchard specified in the invitation a
crowd of typical big western cowboys with their broad brimmed Stetson
hats came streaming up the road from a nearby farm where they had been
foregathering.
A clear stretch of turf was selected, a ring formed by the crowd and
the first event was announced--a cock fight between Von Kluck and
Joffre. Cock fighting is the native sport of the countryside in that
region where nearly every farmer keeps a couple of game cocks and
fights them on Sunday afternoons, incidentally betting on the results.
After everybody had been warned not to move, the two birds were placed
gently on the ground on opposite sides of the circle.
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