September 20, 1918. Adam O. Dyker was re-christened "Honey-Bee" Dyker. The event took place in a rather stinging manner at Camp La Courtine, France.

On the night in question Private Dyker was on guard duty at the battery kitchen, which was situated under a canvas roof in a locality that was infested at that particular time with bees and yellow jackets.

While walking his post at the midnight hour Dyker thought of a can of strawberry jam that he knew the cooks had deposited in a certain place. Groping his way through the dark Dyker found the can of preserves, also a spoon, and immediately started to fill a sweet tooth.

In a short time the entire battery guard was aroused by a distressing cry from one of the outposts. At first it was difficult to determine whether the call was from a 311 Regiment post or a 312th Regiment post.

The question was soon settled, however, when Dyker appended to the customary outpost call the designation of both the battery and the regiment, and added these words. "For God's sake hurry up, I'm all bee'd up."

The jam which he devoured was full of bees and yellow jackets. While the humor of the incident appealed to the boys of the battery, all sympathized with the unfortunate guard, who had an agonizing time of it in the camp hospital for several weeks as a result of eating honey-bees.

Shortly after the armistice was signed John J. Jlosky drank too much cognac and fell out of line at retreat one night. He was ordered to report at the battery office. When asked why he did not stand at attention he replied to Lieut. Bailey: "How do you expect a man to stand at attention with sand-paper underwear on?"

The battery had just been issued woolen underwear that day.

In recalling stable-police duty at Camp Meade, Md., there is one incident that always amused Bill Powell. Here's the story in his own words:

"After the usual morning duties as stable police, 'Mad Anthony' assigned me to load a wagon of manure. After struggling with it for perhaps an hour I felt extremely proud of the transference of the large amount of material from the ground to the wagon. I was then ordered to go with the driver. I thought this pretty soft. It was a zero day and I soon found that I was mistaken. We were on our way to unload the manure in flat cars.

"When we got to Disney, half frozen, the driver disappeared to a position near a roaring log fire and I commenced to unload. Here's where I realized the advantage of being a driver.

"While resting I noticed another wagon being unloaded nearby with a detail of three negroes doing the heaving. This got my ire, and when I got back I looked up 'Mad Anthony' and related what I had seen.

"'Mad Anthony' looked at me and replied, 'Hell, isn't one white man as good as three niggers?'

"Not wishing to admit differently I left--satisfied."