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Frances PerkinsFrances Perkins
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I said, “I saw some recruits being trained a couple of weeks ago, monsieur, which somehow didn't look to me like very promising troops.”

“Oh, they were probably farm boys.”

I said, “Yes, they were farm boys, very obviously farm boys. They were not what you called smart troops.”

“Madame,” he said, “the French army is never smart. French fighting armies are never smart. It is the smart armies that can do nothing. Our men are strong, determined, stubborn, mulish even, farm boys. Those are the ones that fight. They are the ones that can be relied on. The French army does not train its recruits in a smart way to do smart things. The Germans are the ones who are always goose-steppings. They're the smartest army. They're all dressed up and they look wonderful when you see them. A French army never does, but the French army has always been able to fight.”

Well, the French fighting man has always had a great reputation throughout the world, and I knew that. He went into a panegyric about it, that this was better than ever. I didn't like to say this to him, but I had thought that the troops looked very sour. Their facial expressions indicated to me exactly what I had been seeing in other places in the south of France. They





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