In Paris

The Little Marine went over the top,

Par-lay voo!

The Little Marine went over the top,

Par-lay voo!

The little Marine went over the top and bumped his butt on a barrel top

With a rinky-dinky par-lay voooo!

No less than 1001 stanzas, by conservative count, were composed by the A. E. F. and others to a tune which the A. E. F. found British troops singing when they got to France. Roughly speaking, the song had a heroine--a "mademoiselle from Armentieres," to whom the song was dedicated. Habitual singers of informal songs are to be found, who "know all the verses." No boast could be more egregious, yet a certain uniformity obtains in all "complete versions" recorded by bawdy memories (for all versions were bawdy). In general, any "complete version" recites the beauty and whimsicality of the heroine, her generous disposition towards regiments and regiments of the military. No wedding is recorded, yet suddenly, almost miraculously, she brings forth a son called "the little Marine." His exploits are then made the subject of exhaustive saga, beside which the Rabelaisian Odysseys of Gargantua and Pantagruel dwindle to commonplace proportions.

After the War, songwriters Al Dubin, Irving Mills, Jimmie McIlugh and Irwin Dash published a euphemistic parody, without continuity, called "Hinky Dinky Parlay Voo Vooo."

A yacht that used to belong to Germany's Kaiser stole out of Cherbourg harbor early one morning last week. Sliding up under the flank of an enormous U. S. Liner, she lay there waiting. When she put back towards the shore, several hundred retired members of the "A. E. F. observed that the onetime Kaiser's Yacht, now Cherbourg tender of the United States Liner, has been re-christened Welcome.

Down the gangplank marched General John Joseph Pershing, closely followed by National Commander Howard Paul Savage of the American Legion. Some 19,000 legionaries were debarking at about the same time from 15 liners besides the Leviathan, flagship of "the Second A. E. F." Cherbourg and other French ports blared with bands, songs, shouts, kisses, clanking bottles, municipal oratory.

Said General Pershing: "I don't think we ought to delay," and got on with the preliminary speeches. Leaving Cherbourg through a driving rain for their Paris Decennial, the legionaries were saluted by poilus stationed every ten feet for nearly two miles along the railway tracks.

In Paris, the scarlet pompons of the Garde Republicaine blazed around the Gare des Invalides. Bands played "The Star-Spangled Banner." General Pershing and Commander Savage proceeded at once to the Arc de Triomphe and the grave of the Soldat Inconnu. They had brought half a bronze wreath, the other half of which lay on the Unknown Soldier's grave in Arlington, Va. France's highest officialdom joined the Americans in two minutes of silence and a rigid salute, followed by Taps on a sad bugle through the drizzle.

There were other preliminaries before the Legion's celebration actually began. General Pershing and Commander Savage visited the U. S. cemetery at Suresnes. Again it rained, but Marshals Foch and Petain were there; also Madame Nungesser and many another. General Pershing's square mouth softened as he said: "Our comrades whom we honor were in the flower of young manhood. They were our own flesh and blood."

National Commander Savage said: "My comrades, I am addressing you, comrades in death, as you sleep in your 30,000 graves . . . Ten years ago you were busy in the shops and farms of America . . . We have banded ourselves together . . . today we come to commune with you . . . comrades, we, your buddies from home, salute you."

It was a moving speech to hear from a big, roughhewn, grey-haired man of forty-two. Commander Savage's more eloquent admirers in Chicago, where he has worked from Surveyor's rodman on the Northwestern Rail- road to Superintendent of Maintenance of Way with the North Shore Electric lines, like to call him a Lincolnesque figure, another "rail-splitter."

Returning from Suresnes to Paris, Commander Savage was handed a diamond-studded gold key to the Hotel des Nations Americaines. Paris belonged to him and his "buddies." How the "buddies" would behave them- selves in Paris remained to ba seen. Their first Saturday night in town was not exactly a quiet one. They bought their wine and sang their songs, commandeered taxies and whole cafes. But their Commander was ready for them if their joy should pass from unconfinement to unrefinement. ' 'Goodbye Broadway,' 'Keep the Home Fires Burning' and 'All that racket are O. K.," said the orders in effect. "But cut out the Hinky Dinky! Don't get rough."

P: The police reciprocated Commander Savage's effort to make his "buddies" safe for Paris by trying to make the city safe for the "buddies." Communists were sternly discouraged from demonstrating and there was a great show of solicitude in the chasing from street corners and boulevards of young women who parade there by night and little men who offer smutty postcards from inside their shoddy coats.

P: Several wine companies, on the other hand, arranged public lec- tures, with free samples handed out afterwards, on the special attrac- tions of various ferments foreign to the U. S.

P: Some legionaries ran out of cash before the Big Parade even began; were obliged to go home.

P: A crook (no legionary) lined his pockets by exacting commissions from restaurateurs for large Legion banquets he pretended to have authority to arrange.

P: Black-bonneted Evangeline Booth, Commander of the Salvation Army, was on hand. She learned that Salvation doughnuts were selling faster (3,000 per day at a franc apiece) than they could be served, unless served cold. "No, serve them hot," was her command.

P: At at state dinner, Premier Poincare reviewed the War, saying; "In the noble part you played you derived your inspiration not only from your sense of patriotism but from your feeling of honor . . . neither you nor we ourselves will allow that part to be travested." General Pershing said: "An army grows to have a personality, a soul, just like anything else, and fortunately the soul of the A. E. F. has passed into the Legion."

P: It rained in Paris and 14,000 legionaries with their women folk formed into parade line. In their hands they held blue, white and red flowers. They marched; were cheered; cheered back cheerily. The rain stopped. Through the Arc de Triumphe they went--special privilege--and about the Unknown Soldier's tomb they dropped their red, white and blue posies.