NO phase of the work of American volunteers in the European War has been described more fully than that of the ambulance drivers. Each one of them sees it from his individual angle of vision, and so contributes a fresh element to the general understanding of the nature of this perilous and most humane service. The following passages from intimate letters of C. S. Forbes, '00, and C. R. Codman, 2d, 'is, with the motor corps of the American Ambulance Hospital, will yield the final impression --- for this collection --- of the work in which so many Harvard men have been engaged. The fight at Verdun is, more patently, the scene of Codman's experiences.

March 3, 1916..

I AM writing this in a stable alfresco with snowy sleet falling outside, and damned cold on the hands, so that if my orthography is not as perfect as usual you will know the reason. There is no light in our sleeping apartment, except that coming from a few small logs of wood burning in an open work stove, and from two small windows a foot square at each end of the vaulted old wine-cellar where we are quartered. There are about twenty-five other French soldiers sleeping there, and I trust it is bomb-proof, though this place is only shelled intermittently and has not been honored for about a week.

This is one of our advanced posts, which our section maintains about half way between the trenches and the barracks where the main outfit is quartered. We stay here two days at a time, and four days at the other place, in rotation; and from these we serve a number of postes de secours or dressing-stations near the line and take the wounded to any of a number of designated hospitals in the vicinity. From this place we can only go forward at night, as the roads leading from here are under the direct fire of the enemy and it is not considered healthy to venture out with such a valuable piece of property as a Ford. This is my first visit away from our barracks, so I am not able to give you any exciting details of dodging shells, but some of our fellows come in every day with stories of narrow escapes, most of which, I have no doubt, are fiction. Still it is a wonder to me that none of our fellows have been hit. Last night the Boches turned a search-light into a French ambulance, on the road from here, and peppered it for two miles, but luckily did not touch it. They would, of course, like to do the same to us.

I have not as yet come into contact with any distressing cases of wounded soldiers, but three men have died in our ambulances on the way to the operating rooms from the dressing stations within the last week. I am not looking forward to that sort of thing at all.

The village I am in is most picturesque, quite Swiss looking, with lots of muddy helmeted soldiers standing around the doorways and walking about the streets. All the moving is done at night. The country is quite hilly and when the spring comes it will be perfectly lovely, except for the constant reminder of war ever present.

The other day I was at our other advanced post, where I walked in the daytime and had the pleasure of seeing a German aeroplane being shelled, with, however, no tangible results. A battery of French "75's" was barking away, only a short distance away; but although you could hear the explosion of the shells in the distance, I could not realize that the thing was at all real. Last night we also had an interesting view of an aeroplane being shelled at night. We were just going into our dinner at 6.30 at our barracks when a rocket went up in the distance, and a few seconds later six or eight powerful searchlights began sweeping the skies for the German. Anti-aircraft guns also started shooting, and the exploding of the shrapnel in the sky could he distinctly seen by the successive flashes. It seemed like some sort of gala occasion, and not at all that the purpose of the thing was really to kill some unseen cuss flying in the sky!

April 9, 1916.

LIFE here is quite monotonous at times, and at others as strenuous as anyone could wish. We are quartered at present in military barracks, which we use as a base, and have two other more advanced posts much nearer the firing line. We stay four days at a time at one, and two days at the other, taking our turns in rotation. Going into statistics, there are twenty-one hospitals in our sector that we serve, and about eighteen dressing stations (postes de secours.) It is at the advanced posts that our real interesting work takes place. At a great many points we pass over roads that are constantly shelled by the Germans, and some that are near enough to the enemy lines to be suicide to cross in daytime. These we have to reach by night, driving, of course, without any lights, and with as little sound as possible. This, I find most trying, especially on cloudy nights, and worse still if it is raining as well. The roads near the front are, as you may imagine, none too good, and pitted at many unexpected spots with recent shell holes. As soon as it is dark, long trains of transports move forward to re-stock the lines at the front, and troops straggle along to relieve the men in the trenches. As the drivers of the wagons seem to make a habit of driving on the wrong side of the road, you can imagine what fun it is trying to make any sort of time when you have a load of badly wounded on board. So far --- so far, I repeat, as I expect to be less lucky---I have only been smashed into once. I had three wounded, on a very black night on a road which the stretcher-bearers cheerfully told me had been swept by machine-gun fire the night before, going along at a snail's pace, when a great sleepy drunken driver refused to give me room, and crashed into me. Great was my trepidation when I got out to find what remained. Visions of my three wounded marooned all night, and my car blown to pieces as soon as dawn broke, filled my more or less agitated brain, but great was my joy to find that, with the exception of a smashed mudguard, bent triangle and front axle, and broken radiator, the trusty Ford was able to limp safely into port ten miles away. Shells bursting anywhere near me fill me with the gravest alarm and dread. .

German shells are most terrifying. You can hear them a fraction of a second before they burst. They come along with a sort of malicious hiss, a hiss full of hatred and death, then a BANG! that seems to penetrate to your inmost soul ---it is a BANG full of devilish purpose and hellish efficiency, a bang that intends to tear every shred of your living flesh to smallest fragments and blow what remains of your soul to the other side of eternity. In other words, they scare me to death, and I have no desire to stand up in the open amid a storm of shot and shell. As a matter of fact, I haven't met any soldier who hasn't the most profound respect for them, and the more experienced the man, the quicker he knows how to dive into a shelter hole. . .

May 18.

I AM afraid I have nothing new to tell you. We are in the process of moving to another place, and consequently there is much excitement and movement. For the first time since being here, we have seen troops with fixed bayonettes marching behind bands, and flying standards, and have got a small glimpse of the old time picturesqueness and panoply of war; we had been seeing nothing but a lot of tired men straggling along in muddy old garments of every description. We have recently seen a lot of the Alpine troops around here, and they certainly are a snappy looking crowd of youngsters --- all with shad bellies and their officers in particular are especially smart and well set up.

Although work behind the front out of sound of the guns and shells seems comparatively dull, I shall not be sorry to go to new fields. It is not nearly so trying to my particular nerves to drive over roads which are supposed to be in a dangerous zone, as it is to go to places which you know are favorite spots for German shells, and where you have seen them burst time and again. When driving in those places, my terror does not seem to strike me in the pit of the stomach or any particular spot, but I get a feeling of general debility accompanied by distinct homesickness for dear Boston.

July 1.

WE are in a busy sector here all right. We are quartered in a tent, which leaks like a sieve every time it rains; and it has been raining steadily in buckets since almost B.C. We drive out every night, that is to say three nights out of four, to the posts at the Front which we evacuate. We make a half-way stop at another village about ten kilometres from the advanced posts. These ten kilometres seem more like a thousand when the Germans are shelling the roads, which is about all the time. This second village is apt to be bombarded with fairly heavy pieces, so that waiting around there for orders is no pleasant pastime. I saw a shell go through the roof of the house just opposite our cars, and next to the room where we have benches to sit on. It might just as well have been ten yards to the left and killed a lot of our men. The next night a large shell burst right in the middle of the street where our cars are lined up, but luckily half an hour before we arrived. It killed eighteen outright, and seriously wounded twenty-two others. The dead were all lined up on the street when we arrived, and presented a most ghastly appearance with their hideously atrocious lacerations. It was not a very pleasant sight to start off on our night's work, which is hard enough on the nerves without such side horrors. Although the Germans do not necessarily aim individual shots at us, we follow the roads of the convoys that pass to and from this very active front --- change of troops, artillery. and all the long re-stocking trains ---and it is their object, of course, to destroy these communications; this is how we get it in the neck. There are two or three spots along the road which are particularly marked, and you can bet your boots that when we approach these places we put on full speed ahead as far as the shell holes in the road will allow, or the condition of the wounded in the car without actually killing them. On the way up there are also countless French batteries on both sides of the road, which naturally come in for attention from the Boches. Finally, when we get up to the poste de secours, which is quite high up a hill, we have to expect shells any minute that are aimed at a battery right next door. It is most nerve-racking work, and most terrifying. However, when you are actually on the move, there is such a hell of a lot going on that you have little time to make psychological studies of your sensations. To begin with, there is the no mean task of steering your trusty Ford clear of shell holes and ditches, not such a cinch when it is raining cats and dogs, and it is blacker than the deepest dungeon. Last night the French section that shares the work with us had six big cars ditched, en route.

When there is an attack on, the scene is quite indescribably unreal. The din is most awe-inspiring. Seemingly from almost every square yard for miles around the French guns belch forth a continuous stream of death into the inferno in front, and the Germans answer in like manner with their shrieking and shattering shells. From all sides rockets shoot up into the sky as if celebrating some gala performance of the Devil himself. White rockets that remain in the air for about a minute, red balls of fire, green lights, great flares of bengal lights, and some great fiendish looking things, that zigzag across the sky like some gigantic snake. And then when all this bedlam dies down we get the miserable results that are carried in, covered with mud and blood. Human life is certainly cheap in these parts. I am quite surprised that I can look at all these bloody and dying men almost unmoved. Before I did this work the smell of an operating room would almost make me pass out. I don't know how much longer we are going to be on this front. I hope not too long, as it is beginning to wear on the nerves. We go out each night, expecting it to be our last, but somehow we get back all right. I trust our good luck will continue.

June 19.

AFTER an extremely interesting trip we have finally arrived at the hub of the western front. For the last week we have been pushing our way by stages along the main road leading to the city, which is jammed with traffic like Fifth Avenue at five o'clock. Day and night there is a ceaseless stream of trucks bringing back remnants of regiments, and taking up fresh ones. The road is pretty badly worn and the dust terrific.

For the present we are encamped temporarily about ten kilometres from the city, waiting for our division to go into action. The surrounding hills are covered with tents and picketted horses, and in the evening, with the smoke rising from the camp fires, it looks quite like a scene from a Civil War movie. From the top of a near-by ridge, however, one gets a picture which is distinctly up-to-date, with balloons, duelling aeroplanes, and high explosive shells bursting on the côtes opposite. It is an extraordinary and exhilarating feeling to be actually taking in the greatest battle of history from a front-row seat, so to speak.

Last night a few of us went in a staff car to look over the road which is to be our regular run. It was intensely interesting. The approaches to the city were seething with trucks and galloping artillery, and the noise of the bombardment deafening beyond all description. We passed through the city itself, which I can't describe, but which is unbelievably shattered, and out to a suburb on the other side where the real run begins. Here we waited for it to get entirely dark, as the road from hereon more or less parallels the lines, converging towards them, and ending in a poste de secours which is only a few hundred yards from the trenches. All the way out the firing was uninterrupted and appallingly loud. The whistle of shells was a distinct novelty, though not a particularly pleasant one, but, as a spectacular performance, the incessant flashing of the guns, and the flare of star-bombs and multi-colored rockets made a really superb display. Those who claim that there is nothing picturesque about modern warfare are all off. It's gorgeous.

July 10.

. . . I AM afraid I have not written for some time, but the last weeks have been strenuously busy as well as rather harrowing, and what time off I have had has been spent in dreamless sleep. Looking back on the ten days spent at Verdun, I feel that it was perfectly miraculous, our getting away with only one man badly wounded. Our run was from Verdun to Bras, over a road which was shelled intermittently every night. I have no right to describe the thing in detail, and in a way I would rather not anyway, as just now I am trying to forget it as much as possible. Of course it was a wonderful experience, and I would not have missed it for anything, but you can judge how lucky we were when I tell you that half the cars have holes in them from éclats, and that two or three men were grazed by shrapnel, one bullet actually lodging in Waldo Peirce's pocket-book in the most approved melodramatic manner.

I think the psychology of shells is rather interesting. At first, everything is so new and interesting and unbelievable that it seems as if it must be more or less prearranged and that a mere spectator is perfectly safe. Gradually, however, after a few come rather close, and you have seen other men hit, it dawns on you that you are really apt to get hit if you hang around long enough, and finally after being actually spattered, you become absolutely convinced that it is just a question of time when they get you. I know, towards the end, I was perfectly sure that I was not coming out of it alive.

The night after our arrival the Germans launched a gas attack, which is about the most unpleasant thing imaginable. Fortunately, we had been equipped with gas masks that really fitted, and which were entirely effective, but it was impossible to see through them clearly enough to drive a car, so that when actually on the road we had to go without them. Most of the gas was of the 'lacrimogene' variety, which merely makes your eyes run and your throat sting, but out towards Bras one got a whiff of the chlorine, which is fearful. Many of those whom we brought in overcome died soon after in horrible agony. Altogether it was rather a depressing début in the war zone. We all noticed as a curious after-effect of the gas, that for days afterwards cigarettes tasted like the most horrible sulphur fumes, and all liquor, like powerful acid, (which you will doubtless confirms the saying, "It is an ill wind," etc.). It was really an extraordinary experience to be right in the thick of the most acute stage of this terrific battle. Second only to the wonderful fortitude of the wounded, who are always magnificent, was the really heroic behavior of the brancardiers, who crawl out between the lines, and carry in wounded on their backs. To me it seems that their work requires more real courage than any other branch of the service.

For the next few weeks we shall be en repos while the division fills out its depleted numbers. . . .

IN these words a Parisian journalist brought to an end his tribute to the life and death of Victor Chapman.(28) This young graduate of Harvard, of the class of 1913, a son of John Jay Chapman, '84, was in Paris, studying architecture, when the War broke out. He enlisted at once in the Foreign Legion of the French Army, and rendered courageous, cheerful service in its ranks. When the Franco-American Aviation Squadron was formed in the spring of 1915, Chapman attached himself to it, the youngest of the five Harvard men in the corps --- Frazier Curtis, '98, Norman Prince, '08, Laurence Rumsey, '08, and E. C. Cowdin, 2d, '09, being the others. Chapman's skill and intrepidity won him, among the French, the title of "le roi de l'air" The sheer joy of the perilous game he was playing, with all the devotion of a nature quickened by a deep sense of righteousness, imparts a color of its own to the pages of the following letter written to his younger brother in the month before that of his death.

May 3, 1915

DEAR CONRAD: Ha! A snooze and a warm bath at the cure house. Now, let's see yesterday my machine not being ready, I took an old baby, sent for the M. F.'s to practise on: nice engine, climbs fine, just the thing to practise 'virages' with, and make one at home in an aeroplane turning unusual positions. 'Kerage' verticale; to the right, to the left; renversement à 'looping' ; up, up, upside down, motor cut waiting, waiting ---I forgot to keep the broomstick on my stomach, so it did not finish, but began to corkscrew down, nose first. "What the deuce?" I thought, "ah, yes, the famous vrille one hears so much about." Whee, but she spins round! Here's where I apply the remedy foot and hand to the inside to accentuate the swing and give it more impetus, hence control. Now straighten out with the feet and pull on the stick. There we are! Over switch, and on motor! I'm very glad to have done it, for it is the worst thing that can happen; barring breakage in air. Now I know I can get myself out of any knots I may tie myself in while manoeuvring with a Boche. (I take it in a flight one's position toward the adversary must be of first importance, and that the ground, secondary). It was well I went well up to twelve or fifteen hundred metres before experimenting, for I was not more than five or six hundred when I came out. Some of the sharks, aces they call them here, do the vrille for fun, at fifty or seventy-five metres over the hangars. I have never seen it, but hear it is thrilling. Rather foolish though, for it strains the machine, and if one does it too near he dives into the ground like a bullet.

But for this morning: Rockwell called me up at three, "fine day, get up!" It was very clear, we hung around at Billy's, and took chocolate made by his ordonnance. Hall and the Lieutenant were guards on the field; but Thaw, Rockwell, and I thought we would take a "tour chez les Boches." Being the first time, the mechanaux were not there, and the machine-gun rolls not ready. However, it looked misty in the Vosges, so we were not hurried. "Rendezvous over the field at a thousand metres," shouted Kiffin. I nodded, for the motor was turning; and we sped over the field and up.

In my little cock-pit, from which my shoulders just protrude, I have several diversions besides flying. The compass, of course, and the map I keep tucked in a tiny closet over the reservoir before my knees, a small clock, and an altimètre. But most important is the contour, showing revolutions of the motor, which one is constantly regarding as he moves the manettes of gasolene and gas, back and forth. To husband one's fuel and tease the motor to round eleven takes attention, for the carburetter changes with the weather and the altitude.

Over the field we soared, and due east for B-----. Twelve, sixteen, nineteen, twenty-two, twenty-four hundred metres --- mounting well at one thousand one hundred and eighty turns. The earth seemed hidden under a fine web such as the Lady of Shallot wove; soft purple in the west changing to shimmering white in the east. Under me on the left, the Vosges, like rounded sand dunes cushioned up with velvety light and dark mosses (really forests). But to the south, standing firmly above the purple cloth like icebergs shone the Alps. My! they looked steep and jagged. The sharp blue shadows on their western slopes emphasized the effect. One mighty group standing aloof to the West---Mont Blanc, perhaps. Ah, there are quantities of worm-eaten fields --- my friends, the trenches, ---and that town with the canal going through it must be M-----. Right beside the capote of my engine, shining through the white silk cloth, a silver snake: the Rhine! "What, not over quarter to six, and I left the field at five! Thirty-two hundred metres. Let's go north and have a look at the map. Boo, my feet are getting cold!"

While thus engaged "Trun-un-ng-tsss "--- a black puff of smoke appeared behind my tail, and I had the impression of having a piece of iron hiss by. "Must have got my range, first shot!" I surmised, and making a steep bank, piqué'd heavily. "There, I've lost them now!" The whole art of avoiding shells is to pay no attention till they get your range, and then dodge away, change altitude, and generally avoid going in a straight line. In point of fact, I could see bunches of exploding shells up over my right shoulder, now a kilometre off. They continued to shell that section for some time; the little balls of smoke thinning out and merging as they crossed the lines.

Billy Thaw and Rockwell came over me, thirty-seven hundred metres they must have been; I tried to follow them but found it difficult. Up by A------ I recrossed the lines, taking a look at T----- and returned over M-----. I met the same reception, but their aim was wild, two or three hundred metres above, and a scattering way under me. Nary a Boche sailing over that misty sea! My cheeks felt cold, and having lost sight of my companions (it's much harder to see them when a little below, on account of the wings), I headed for the foothills of the Vosges. M-----, then smaller villages huddled up in the valley, and a couple of little lakes, like jagged pieces of jet, in the green seaweedy map. Right over the Ballon d'Alsace I went, it seemed near, for I was sinking, now having reduced my engine. Then Ballon de Servance with its Fort, and the gentle green valley in the west. Lots of tiny lakes broadcast in the wood, and a winding stream to F-----, where I picked up Z----- and the new hangars of the field. Down, down, with the uneven throbs of the motor, the sound of the wind in the cables, and the teeter of the tangent machine settling. (I was descending as slowly as possible, for it brutalizes one to come down fast, --- one's ears and appreciation of distance, you know). How charming the little creek looked in the meadow with groups of trees and shrubs so daintily arranged, and all inimitable green. A roar of the motor, a tour of the terrain, and two or three hundred metres to get the wind, and I scooped on to the field. The others had not returned, but a printed slip was handed to me a moment later. Telephone message from the field near the Front: "Lieutenant Thaw et Capitaine Rockwell rentrés. Lieutenant a trois éclats d'obus dans son appareil dont un dans le bécquille l'a fait céder en atterrissant. Corporal Chapman vu au dessus de M----- à 2800."

May 13. --- Yesterday afternoon I went up above the clouds, over the field, to have my picture taken by an M. F. I had motor trouble in leaving, so was late when I got up there --- 2500 m . It was too late. This morning I was guard with McConnell; weather not propitious, a great variety of clouds. Finally at five o'clock I took a sail for half-an-hour. Breakfasted. The Captain came down and suggested we all make a tour, save Thaw, whose machine is still in 'reparation', the other side of B-----. We lined up, tried our motors, and left at 5.45. A circle over the town, and off we go! This time I was not going to be below, so I did not try to spare my motor, and easily got up to over 3700 over D-----. Not seeing the rest I made a trip over the lines by A-----, let them waste some shells on me, and came back to find them all. The Captain in his silver 170 H. P., and the rest in theirs, with clouded, green scenery. It's much too dark, and shows up against the pale landscape below. Odd, one seems to be travelling straight, merely letting the machine ride easily; but I noticed today we were forever swinging back and forth. First a machine would be under one wing tip, then he would float back and appear on the other side. To get a better view, now and again I would list, and look over the cloud banks. There were more clouds today, no Alps visible, but I saw the turn in the Rhine, and its zig-zag course in hills beyond B-----. A fine shimmer in the air which looked like silky threads and took rainbow colors in the sun. I tried to take a picture or two with my camera of the other machines and a shell puff, but the light was not good, and everything is faint. We went by C-----, where the battleworn woods were smoking with a bombardment. Up the valley of T-----, then back to D-----, and home by B-----. The bombardment was very feeble as compared to yesterday. All returned, and landed well. McConnell, on his first trip, went up to four thousand three hundred metres. He must have a fine engine. A cinema has come this afternoon to take us. Prince and Cowdin returned from Paris for the occasion. Now mind you no publicity on this, it would get me in trouble.

Your loving

VICTOR.

On the morning of Saturday, June 24, 1916, Sergeant Victor Chapman, serving near Verdun, heard that his fellow-aviator, Sergeant Balsley, lying wounded in a hospital, much desired some oranges. With a basket of them in his aeroplane, Chapman set out on a mission of mercy as old as humanity itself, albeit attempted in the most modern of vehicles. As he flew towards his friend he saw in the distance what proved on nearer view to be four German aeroplanes in conflict with three from his own squadron. Dashing impetuous into the fight he brought three of the Germans to earth, but himself was killed, and fell within the German lines. The immediate reward of his sacrifice was that his three comrades returned in safety to their camp.

"Poor Victor Chapman," wrote Norman Prince(29), to his family a few days later, "was lost last week. He was of tremendous assistance to Elliot [Cowdin] and me in getting together the escadrille; his heart was in it to make ours as good as any at the front; he was almost too courageous in attacking German machines wherever and whenever he saw them. . . Victor died, was killed while attacking an aeroplane that was attacking Luffberry and me. Another, and unaccounted for, German came and brought Victor down while he was endeavoring to protect us. A glorious death, face à l'ennemi, for a great cause, and to save a friend."

Beyond the immediate reward was the recognition in France and America of an heroic gift of life, glowing with significance. The French philosopher and academician, Emile Boutroux, declared:

"Non, les grands interprètes de la conscience humaine n'ont pas eu tort: mourir, plutôt que de trahir la cause du droit et de la justice, ce n'est pas mourir, c'est s'immortaliser. Mais ce n'est pas seulement survivre dans l'imagination de la postérité, c'est laisser derrière soi une semence de foi et de vertu qui, tôt ou tard, assurera le triomphe du bien."(30)

A Harvard poet, Benjamin Apthorp Gould, '91, wrote a few days later, these lines which may stand as the exequy on each Harvard man who has given his life's blood to the cause he has deemed worth the offering:

Under the definition "Harvard Surgical Unit " are entered the members of the successive contingents of the Unit sent by the Harvard Medical School to General Hospital 22 of the British Expeditionary Force in France.

FRED H. ALL, G.S. '14-15, American Ambulance Service.

LOUIS ALLARD, Assistant Professor of French; interpreter in British Hospital No. 8 at Rouen.

BENJAMIN M. ALTON, M.D., '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

A. PlATT ANDREW, AM. '95, PH.D. '00, Inspector-General, American Ambulance Service.

CHARLES L. APPLETON, '08, American Ambulance Service.

RICHARD S. AUSTIN, M.D. '11, Harvard Surgical Unit.

A. AUZIAS-TUREENE, L. '13-14, serving in British Army.

GEORGE W. BACHMAN, '08, M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ELLIOT C. BACON, '10 Red Cross in Paris.

ROBERT BACON, '80, Relief Work, and on Committee of American Ambulance, Paris.

CHARLES BAIRD, Jr., '11, American Ambulance Service.

FREDERICK C. BAKER, '12, Cyclist Service, British Army.

FERNAND BALDENSPERGER, Visiting Professor at Harvard, '13-14, in 31st Corps, French Army.

RAYMOND P. BALDWIN, '16, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Corps.

E. L. BARRON, '13, American Ambulance Service.

A. A. BARROWS, M.D. '02, Harvard Surgical Unit.

LYMAN G. BARTON, Jr., M.D. ‘12, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

J. F. BASS, '91. War Correspondent with Russian Army, wounded in Poland

BOYLSTON A. BEAL, '86, Staff of American Embassies, Berlin and London.

HOWARD W. BEAL, M.D. '98, Chief Surgeon, American Women's War Hospital, Paignton, England.

EDWARD BELL, '04, American Embassy, London.

GEORGE BENET, M.D. '13, American Ambulance Hospital, Harvard Surgical Unit.

BRAXTON BIGELOW, '09, 2d Lieutenant, Field Artillery, British Army.

STEPHEN S. BIGELOW, '15, American Ambulance Service.

WILLIAM DE F. BIGELOW, '00, American Ambulance Service.

M. H. BIRCKHEAD, '02, American Ambulance Service.

PERCY A. Blair, '06, American Ambulance Service.

ROBERT W. BLISS, '00, 1st Secretary of American Embassy, Paris.

JOHN E. BOIT, '12, American Ambulance Service.

WALTER M. BOOTHBY, '02, M.D. '06, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

RUSSELL P. BORDEN, M.D. '15, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JOHN L. BREMER, '96, M.D. '01, Harvard Surgical Unit.

C. W. BRESSLER, SM. '14-15, Harvard Surgical Unit.

GEORGE E. BREWER, M.D. '85, Hospital Work at Juilly, France.

FERDINAND BRIGHAM, D.M.D. '15, Harvard Surgical Unit, Dental Department.

CARLTON T. BRODRICK, '08, Belgian Relief Commission, drowned in sinking of Lusitania.

L. BROKENSHIRE, '16, with 4th Brigade, Canadian Troops.

G. C. BROOME, L. '85-86, American Ambulance Service.

JOHN F. BROWN, Jr., '18, American Ambulance Service.

JOHN PAULDING BROWN, '14, American Citizens' Relief Committee, London; American Ambulance Service.

J. W. BROWN, '17, American Ambulance Service.

THOMAS B. BUFFUM, '16, American Ambulance Service.

HENRY A. BUNKER, '10, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

BENJAMIN P. BURPEE, M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

CARLETON BURR, '13, American Ambulance Service.

ROGER A. BURR, '04, Work for Relief of Prisoners in Siberia under the American Red Cross and the American Embassy in Petrograd.

ALFRED T. BURRI, '18, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work

CASPAR H. BURTON, Jr., '09, enlisted under Red Cross in British Army.

CHARLES S. BUTLER, '93, M.D. '98, Hospital Work at Fort Mahon, France.

F. W. BUTLER-THWING, '13, 2d Lieutenant, 5th Royal Irish Lancers.

H. G. BYNG, '13, Private in London Artists' Rifles; 2d Lieutenant in 2d Border Regiment; killed near Festubert.

HUGH CABOT, M.D. '98, Chief Surgeon, Harvard Surgical Unit.

FREDERICK J. CALDWELL, D.M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

DAVID CARD, '09, American Ambulance Service.

A. G. CAREY, '14, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

H. R. CAREY, '13, American Embassy, Paris.

CHARLES CARROLL, '87, with Robert Bacon helped organize American Ambulance Hospital.

P. A. CARROLL, '02, Inspector for American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

J. S. CARSTAIRS, '11, Foreign Legion, French Army.

EDWARD C. CARTER, '00, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work.

PHILIP T. CATE, '15, American Ambulance Service.

R. S. CATHERON, D.M.D. '09, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ANDRÉ C. CHAMPOLLION, '02, in French Army; killed in trenches at Bois-le-Prêtre, France.

VICTOR E. CHAPMAN, '13, Foreign Legion, French Army, wounded; French Aviation Service, Médaille Militaire; Croix de Guerre: killed in action at Verdun, June 23, 1916.

DAVID CHEEVER, '97, M.D. '01, Chief Surgeon, Harvard Surgical Unit.

OSWALD CHEW, '03, Commission for Relief in Belgium.

J. R. CHILDS, AM. '15, American Ambulance Service.

ALLEN M. CLEGHORN, Assistant in Physiology, Harvard Medical School, '98-00; Captain in Royal Army Medical Corps; died in England after brief illness.

J. S. COCHRANE, '00, American Ambulance Service.

C. R. CODMAN, 2d, '15, American Ambulance Service.

GEORGE R. COGSWELL, '18, American Ambulance Service.

HENRY AUGUSTUS COlT, '10, Private 5th Battalion, Princess Patricia's Regiment, Canadian Volunteers; died, August 7, 1916, of injuries received at front in France.

F. T. COLBY, '05, American Ambulance Service, Lieutenant in Belgian Army, mentioned for bravery.

F. A. COLLER, M.D. '12, American Ambulance Hospital Unit; later at American Women's War Hospital, Paignton, England.

JOHN G. COOLIDGE, '84, American Embassy, Paris.

E. C. COWDIN, 2d, '09, American Ambulance Service; attached to Belgian Cavalry in Belgium; Sergeant in French Aviation Service; received Croix de Guerre; first American to receive the Médaille Militaire; decorated for valor and aerial efficiency displayed in bringing to earth his third enemy aeroplane.

WILLIAM D. CRANE, '16, American Ambulance Service.

BENJAMIN T. CREDEN, '99, Corporal, 1st Overseas Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Force.

D. R. W. CRILE, M. '15-16, Harvard Surgical Unit.

GEORGE H. CROCKER, Jr., '17, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service; injured on the Sussex.

C. R. CROSS, Jr., '03, American Distributing Service; killed in motor accident in France. October, 1915.

BRONSON CROTHERS, '05, M.D. '10, Harvard Surgical Unit.

LAWRENCE B. CUMMINGS, '03, American Ambulance Service.

E. J. CURLEY, '04, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

BRIAN C. CURTIS, '11, American Ambulance Service.

E. D. CURTIS, '14, American Relief Committee in Belgium.

FRAZIER CURTIS, '98, organized American Squadron, French Aviation Service, with Norman Prince, '08.

LAURENCE CURTIS, 2d, ‘16, American Embassy, Paris.

HARVEY CUSHING, M.D. '95, Chief Surgeon, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

FRANK H. CUSHMAN, D.M.D. '15, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ELLIOTT C. CUTLER, '09, M.D. '13, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

PAUL DANA, '74, Relief Work in Belgium.

FRITZ DAUR, S.T.M. '14, killed fighting in German Army in Flanders, November, 1914.

CHARLES C. DAVIS, '01, American Ambulance Service.

C. W. DAY, G.S. '12-14, Lieutenant in Canadian Expeditionary Force, 14th Princess of Wales Own Rifles; killed fighting at Ypres.

GEORGE P. DENNY, '09, M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

RICHARD DERBY, '03, M.D. (Columbia) '07, American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

EDWARD S. DILLON, M.D. '16, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JOHN F. DILLON, D.M.D. ’15, Harvard Surgical Unit.

W. J. DODD, M. '00-01, Harvard Surgical Unit.

H. P. DODGE, '92, American Embassy, Paris.

J. I. H. DOWNES, G.S. '12-15, American Ambulance Service.

E. T. DRAKE, Jr., '16, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

W. P. DRAPER, '13, 2d Lieutenant, R.F.A., British Expeditionary Force.

ELLIS L. DRESEL, '87, American Embassy, Berlin.

E. J. A. DUQUESNE, Professor of Architectural Design; Red Cross Work in Paris, as reservist subject to call.

CHARLES B. DYAR, '06, American Embassy, Berlin.

G. H. EDGELL, '09, American Embassy, London.

THEODORE H. ELLIS, '04, Lieutenant, 8th Loyal North Lancashire Regiment.

EDWIN EMERSON, '91, War Correspondent.

WILLIAM K. B, EMERSON, '16, American Ambulance Service.

ROBERT EMMET, '93, Major in Warwickshire Territorials; has become British citizen.

RICHARD T. EVANS, '06, American Red Cross Committee in China for the Relief of Prisoners of War in Siberia.

JOHN S. FARLOW, '02, American Ambulance Service.

H. W. FARNSWORTH, '12, Foreign Legion, French Army, killed at Tahure in autumn of 1915.

J. F. FAULKNER, M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

W. E. FAULKNER, '87, M.D. '01, Harvard Surgical Unit.

S. P. FAY, '07, American Ambulance Service.

WILLIAM P. FAY, '15, American Ambulance Service.

ROADES FAYERWEATHER, ’99, M.D. (Johns Hopkins) '03, Head of Unit on Red Cross Hospital Ship; later in France.

HENRY O. FEISS, '98, M.D. '02, Assistant to Dr. Du Boucher, American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

ROBERT L. FELLMANN, G.S. '13-14, Lieutenant in French Army.

O. D. FILLEY '06, American Ambulance Service, in Charge of Unit; Lieutenant and Captain in British Air Service, received the Military Cross for gallantry.

CHARLES H. FISKE, 3d, '19, American Ambulance Service.

C. STEWART FORBES, '00, American Ambulance Service.

GERRIT FORBES, '04, British Flying Corps, operating in Africa.

HENRYS. FORBES, '05, M.D. '11, with Red Cross Sanitary Commission in Serbia.

J. GRANT FORBES, '01, "Counsellor" for War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

THOMAS A. FOSTER, M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

REGINALD C. FOSTER, '11, Member of Staff, War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

ARNOLD FRASER-CAMPBELL, '08, Captain, Second Argyll and Highland Regiment.

HAROLD M. FROST, M. '09-13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

C. F. FROTHINGHAM, Jr., '11, American Embassy, London.

BENJAMIN A. G. FULLER, '00, American Embassy, London.

GERALD F. FURLONG, '00, with a Canadian Regiment in Europe.

F. R. FURNESS, '12, caring for wounded Russian soldiers at Petrograd.

JAMES C. FYSHE, '99, M.D. (McGill) '04, went to England with 1st Canadian Contingent as Surgeon with rank of Captain; transferred to Army Medical Corps.

JOHN P. GALATTI, '09, American Embassy, London.

STEPHEN GALATTI, '10, American Embassy, London; American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

A. J. GALLISHAW, SC. '14-16, service with Newfoundland Regiment at Gallipoli.

JOSEPH W. GANSON, '92, Foreign Legion, French Army.

DOANE GARDINER, '07, 1st Lieutenant, 3d Reserves, 3d Battalion, City of London Regiment of Royal Fusiliers.

GORDON GARDINER, S.S. '05, Captain, K.O.S.B.; Major, Chief Intelligence Officer, Scottish Command.

A. P. GARDNER, '86, helped organize and direct volunteer corps of assistants at American Embassy in London in caring for stranded Americans.

MERRILL GAUNT, And. '14-16, died, April, 1916, of cerebrospinal meningitis while in Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

H. M. GOODWIN, M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

PIERRE ALEXANDRE GOUVY, C. '1-12, G.B. '12-13, Lieutenant, French Field Artillery; wounded.

HAROLD S. GRAY, ‘18, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work.

R. H. GREELEY, '01, in service in military hospital, Houlgate, France; Director, American Distributing Service; injured in motor accident, October, 1915; received Cross of Legion of Honor.

E. G. GREENE, '11, American Embassy, London.

HENRY COPLEY GREENE, '94, French Wounded Emergency Fund.

QUINCE S. GREENE, '13, American Embassy, London; Lieutenant, Coldstream Guards, British Army.

WARWICK GREENE, '01, War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

C. GREENOUGH, '04, aided in equipping hospitals in Paris.

ROBERT B. GREENOUGH, '92, M.D. '96, American Ambulance Hospital Unit, Executive Officer.

ALLEN GREENWOOD, M.D. '89. Harvard Surgical Unit.

W. T. GRENFELL, A.M. (Hon.) '09, Harvard Surgical Unit.

J. C. GREW, '02, 1st Secretary, American Embassy, Berlin.

F. B. GRINNELL, '09, M.D. '13, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

ROGER GRISWOLD, '14, American Ambulance Service.

ALEXANDER H. GUNN, '11, American Volunteer Ambulance Corps of French Army.

F. M. GUNTHER, '07, American Embassy, London.

PAUL GUSTAPSON, '12, M.D. '16, Harvard Surgical Unit.

GARDNER HALE, '15, American Ambulance Service, in charge of Division.

H. D. HALE, '14, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

LOUIS P. HALL, G.S. '13-15, American Ambulance Service.

JOHN W. HAMMOND, Jr., M.D. '12, Harvard Surgical Unit.

LYMAN S. HAPGOOD, '97, M.D. '01, Harvard Surgical Unit.

EDWARD HARDING, '11, M.D. '16, Harvard Surgical Unit.

HENRY KNOX HARDON, '12, American Ambulance Service.

OLIVER B. HARRIMAN, '09. 2d Secretary, American Embassy. Berlin.

WILLIAM C. HARRINGTON, '16, American Ambulance Service.

H. F. HARTWELL, ’95, M D. '98, Harvard Surgical Unit.

LIONEL DE JERSEY HARVARD, '15, Lieutenant in Grenadier Guards, British Army.

HAROLD W. HASERICK, '17, 2d Lieutenant, 4th Essex Regiment.

GEORGE H. HAZLEHURST, M.C.E. '13, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

LAWRENCE HEMENWAY, '15, American Ambulance Service.

ALEXANDER I. HENDERSON, '13, American Ambulance Service.

MORTON J. HENRY, L. '88-gr, Major, U.S.A.; American Embassy, Paris.

JOHN A. HERBERT, '18, left College to receive commission in England.

C. HIGGINSON, '17, American Ambulance Service.

LAWRENCE R. HILL, M.D. '07, Harvard Surgical Unit.

LOVERING HILL, '10, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre; three times cited for bravery.

ROBERT W. HINDS, '05, M.D. '10, one of five surgeons in charge of units on S.S. Red Cross; assisting at Hasslor Royal Naval Hospital, near Portsmouth; also at American Women's War Hospital at Paignton, England.

JOSEPH P. HOGUET, '04, M.D. (Columbia) '07, American Ambulance Hospital.

G. M. HOLLISTER, '18, American Ambulance Service.

CARLYLE H. HOLT, '12, American Ambulance Service.

SAMUEL A. HOPKINS, M.D. (Coll. Phys. and Sung., Columbia) '80, Instructor in Dental Pathology, Harvard Dental School, '06-09 Harvard Surgical Unit.

RONALD W. HOSKIER, '18, left College to receive commission in England.

HERBERT H. HOWARD, M.D. '12, American Women's War Hospital, Paignton, England.

SIDNEY C. HOWARD, G.S. '15-16, American Ambulance Service.

GARDINER G. HUBBARD, '00, American Ambulance Service; Lieutenant, British Aviation Corps.

EDWARD E. HUNT, '10, War Correspondent, Relief Work in Belgium.

WILLIAM E. HUNTER, SM. '13-15, Harvard Surgical Unit.

NATHANIEL S. HUNTING, '84, M.D. '89, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JAMES P. HUTCHINSON, '90, M.D. (Univ. of Pa.) '93, American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

DWIGHT H. INGRAM, '16, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work.

JOHN S. IRWIN, '08, M.D. (Columbia) '12, Resident Surgeon, French Hospital, Passy.

W. O'D. ISELIN, '05, helped organize American Ambulance Hospital; also assisted in American Embassy, Paris.

GEORGE S. JACKSON, '05, Relief Work in Belgium.

ROBERT A. JACKSON, '99, Relief Work in Belgium.

LESLIE P. JACOBS, '17, American Ambulance Service.

HENRY JAMES, Jr., '99, War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

FRANCIS JAQUES, '03, American Ambulance Service.

AUGUSTUS JAY, '00, 1st Secretary, American Embassy, Rome.

ALLYN R. JENNINGS, sG.S. '14-15, Amer. Ambulance Service.

WILLIAM B. JOHNSTON, ’97, M.D. (Johns Hopkins) '01, in charge of small hospital in France.

DANIEL FISKE JONES, '92, M.D. '96, Chief Surgeon, Harvard Surgical Unit.

V. K. KAZANJIAN D.M.D. '05, Harvard Surgical Unit.

W. W. KENT, '16, Secretary, American Citizens' Relief Committee, London.

DAY KIMBALL, '15, American Embassy, Paris.

DAVID W. KING, '16, Foreign Legion, French Army.

LUCIUS C. KINGMAN, M.D. '04, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ABRAHAM KRACHMALNIKOFF, '16, service in Russian Army.

P. B. KURTZ, '16, American Ambulance Service.

WALTER M. LACET, M.D. '12, Harvard Surgical Unit.

WALTER A. LANE, M.D. '90, Harvard Surgical Unit.

CHARLES N. LATHROP, '96, Relief Work in Belgium.

J. L. LATHROP, '18, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

RICHARD LAWRENCE, '02, American Ambulance Service, formed first motor-ambulance section sent to front.

PEIRCE H. LEAVITT, '10, M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ROGER I. LEE, '02, M.D. '05, Harvard Surgical Unit.

LOUIS V. LEMOYNE, '84, Relief Work in Belgium.

D. W. LEWIS, '14, American Ambulance Service.

P. C. LEWIS, '17, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

HOWARD B. LINES, LL.B. '15, American Ambulance Service.

ROBERT LITTELL, '18, American Ambulance Service.

WALTER LOVELL, '07, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre; joined French Aviation Corps.

C. T. LOVERING, Jr., '02, American Ambulance Service, succeeded Filley, '06, in command of motor-ambulance section.

ALFRED LUGER, Assistant in Medical School, '13-14; attached to Medical Corps, Austrian Army.

FRED B. LUND, '88, M.D. '92, Harvard Surgical Unit.

GEORGE H. LYMAN, '16, American Ambulance Service.

J. O. LYMAN, '06, American Ambulance Service.

CHARLES F. McDONALD, Jr., D.M.D. '10, Harvard Surgical Unit.

WILBERT LORNE MACDONALD, Ph.D. '12, Canadian Expeditionary Force.

D. D. L. McGREW, '03, American Ambulance Service.

FRANCIS P. MAGOUN, Jr., '16, American Ambulance Service.

HAROLD MARION-CRAWFORD, '11, 2d Lieutenant, Irish Guards, killed at Givenchy.

AUSTIN B. MASON, '08, American Ambulance Service.

CLYDE FAIRBANKS MAXWELL, '14, Lieutenant, 10th Battalion, Essex Infantry; killed in action on the Somme, July 3, 1916.

HANS F. MAYER, G.S. '12-13, Volunteer With German Army in France,

JOHN MELCHER, '17, American Ambulance Service.

J. M. MELLEN, '17, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

L. J. A. MERCIER, Instructor in French; Chief Interpreter at Le Mans, France.

R. B. MERMAN, '96, American Embassy, London.

ERNEST N. MERRINGTON, Ph.D. '05, Senior Chaplain to New Zealand and Australian Division at Anzac, Gallipoli, and in Egypt.

EDWARD P. MERRITT, '82, Hospital Work at Aix-les-Bains.

CHALMERS JACK MERSEREAU, AM. '09, Artillery Major, Canadian Expeditionary Force, seriously wounded.

CARLETON RAY METCALF, '02, M.D. '06, Harvard Surgical Unit.

H. H. METCALF, '17, American Ambulance Service.

PHILIP O. MILLS, '05, American Ambulance Service.

G. W. MINOT, '15, Attaché, American Embassy, Berlin.

CLARENCE V. S. MITCHELL, L. '13-14, Ambulance Service in France.

W. JASON MIXTER, M.D. '06, American Hospital, Paris.

ORLANDO F. MONTGOMERY, M. '10-14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JOHN C. B. MOORE, '18, American Ambulance Service.

R. L. MOORE, '18, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

CHARLES D. MORGAN, '06, American Ambulance Service, Lieutenant, R.F.A., British Army; wounded; awarded the Military Cross.

STOKELEY W. MORGAN, '16, American Embassy, London.

W. R. MORRISON, ‘10, M.D., '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

PHILIP R. MORSS, '17, American Ambulance Service.

HARRIS P. MOSHER, '92, M.D. '96, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ROBERT T. W. Moss. '94, American Ambulance Service in France; resigned in order to help in Serbia.

ALEXANDER D. MUIR, G.S. '12-15, 2d Lieutenant, Black Watch, British Army.

ECTOR O. MUNN, '14, American Ambulance Service.

GURNEE MUNN, '11, American Ambulance Service.

JOHN MUNROE, '13, American Ambulance Service.

FRED T. MURPHY, M.D. '01, Amer. Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

J. TUCKER MURRAY, '90, Captain, 2d Reserve Battalion, Duke of Wellington's Regiment.

HENRY L. NASH, '16, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work.

A. F. NEWELL, And. '14-16, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work.

EDWARD H. NICHOLS, '86, M.D. '92, Chief Surgeon, Harvard Surgical Unit.

Sir HENRY NORMAN, '81, Managing Red Cross Hospital, organized and equipped by his wife and himself.

RICHARD NORTON, '92, organized and in active charge of American Volunteer Motor Ambulance Corps, awarded Croix de Guerre.

W. G. OAKMAN, Jr., '07, joined English Army, drove armored motors with British Expeditionary Force in Dardanelles; Lieutenant, 2d Battalion, Coldstream Guards; wounded in France.

J. R. OLIVER, '94, Head Physician, Military Garrison Hospital, Innsbruck, 14th Division, Austrian Army.

THOMAS EDWARD OLIVER, ’93, Belgian Relief Commission, France and Brussels.

LITHGOW OSBORNE, '15, American Embassy, Berlin.

GEORGE OSGOOD, M.D. '05, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ROBERT B. OSGOOD, M.D. '99, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

GEORGE B. PACKARD, Jr., M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

HENRY B. PALMER, '10, American Ambulance Service.

HARRISON L. PARKER, D.M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

DILLWYN PARRISH, '18, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

W. BARCLAY PARSONS, Jr., '10, American Ambulance Service.

J. G. D'A. PAUL, '08, American Embassy, Paris and Bordeaux.

CHARLES W. PEABODY, '12, M.D. '16, Harvard Surgical Unit.

WALDO PEIRCE, '07, American Ambulance Service; received Croix de Guerre.

ROBERT E. PELLISSIER, '04, Sergeant, Chasseurs Alpins, French Army; killed in action on the Somme, August 29, 1916.

DUNLAP PEARCE PENHALLOW, '03, M.D. '06, Chief Surgeon, American Women's War Hospital, Paignton, England, 1915-16.

J. R. O. PERKINS, '14, American Ambulance Service.

Sir GEORGE H. PERTLY, '78, Acting High Commissioner and High Commissioner for Canada in London.

JOHN K. T. PHILIPS, '17, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

JOHN C. PHILLIPS, '99, M.D., '04, Harvard Surgical Unit.

EDWARD M. PICKMAN, '08, American Embassy, Paris.

GEORGE B. PIERCE, ’93, M.D. '98, French Hospital Service at Fort Mahon.

THOMAS R. PLLTMMER, '84, American Embassy, Paris.

CHARLES A. PORTER, '88, M.D. '92, Harvard Surgical Unit.

RÉGIS H. POST, '91, American Ambulance Service, Adjutant of Ambulance Staff.

WILLIAM H. POTTER, '78, D.M.D. '89, Dental Surgeon in American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

H. H. POWEL, '14, American Ambulance Service.

NORMAN PRINCE, '08, organized American Squadron, French Aviation Service, with Frazier Curtis, '98; received Croix de Guerre and Médaille Militaire; killed in France, October, 1916.

T. J. PUTNAM, '15, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

WINTHROP PYEMONT, L. '13-14, serving in British Army.

ALEXANDER QUACKENBOSS, M.D. '92, Harvard Surgical Unit.

W. K. RAINSFORD, '04, American Ambulance Service.

WAYNE S. RAMSEY, M.D. '12, Harvard Surgical Unit.

DANIEL B. REARDON, M.D. '03. Harvard Surgical Unit.

JOHN S. REED, '10, War Correspondent.

PHILIP S. REED, '08, American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

PHILIP N. RHINELANDER, '18, American Ambulance Service.

A. HAMILTON RICE, '98, M.D. '04, Surgical Work in Paris Hospitals.

DURANT RICE, '12, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

PAUL M. RICE, '15, assisted American Citizens' Relief Committee, London.

ERNEST T. F. RICHARDS, M.D. (McGill) '05, Assistant in Neuropathology, '07-11; Harvard Surgical Unit.

EDWARD P. RICHARDSON, '02, M.D. '06 Harvard Surgical Unit.

N. THAYER ROBB, '93, American Ambulance Service.

SIMON P. ROBINEAU, L. '09-12, serving in French Army.

CARL MERRILL ROBINSON, M.D. '11, Harvard Surgical Unit.

PHILLIPS B. ROBINSON, '03, Volunteer in Preparing Passports on Staff of American Embassy, London; joined British Red Cross Corps as Volunteer Ambulance chauffeur for service in France.

ORVILLE F. ROGERS, Jr., '08, M.D. '12, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

NICHOLAS ROOSEVELT, '14, American Embassy, Paris.

OLIVER W. ROOSEVELT, '12, Volunteer Service in the Cantine de la Gare du Nord, caring for French and Belgians.

ARTHUR B. RUHL, '99, War Correspondent.

LAURENCE RUMSEY, '08, American Ambulance Service; French Aviation Service.

CHARLES H. RUSSELL, Jr., '15, American Embassy, Berlin.

DANIEL SARGENT, '13, American Ambulance Service.

ROBERT R. SATTLER, M. '18, Harvard Surgical Unit.

THEODORE R. SCHOONMAKER, '12, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

ALAN SEEGER, '10, Foreign Legion, French Army; killed, July, 1916.

A. W. SELLARDS, Associate in Tropical Medicine; with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

HENRY SETON, '11, American Ambulance Service.

WILLIAM L. SHANNON, SM. '13-14, Captain in Field Ambulance Service sailing from Canada.

GEORGE C. SHATTUCK, '01, M.D. '05, with Dr. Strong in Serbia; Harvard Surgical Unit.

VERNON SHAW-KENNEDY, '16, 3d Coldstream Guards, 1st Guards Brigade, British Expeditionary Force, France.

GEORGE MAURICE SHEAHAN, '02, M.D. '07, Harvard Surgical Unit.

HENRY B. SHEAHAN, '09, American Ambulance Service.

WILLIAM C. SHEFFIELD, M. '18, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

CHARLES W. SHORT, Jr., '08, Assistant Secretary, American Embassy, London; Director, Harvard Club of London War Relief Fund.

CHANNING C. SIMMONS, M.D. '99, Harvard Surgical Unit.

H. R. DEIGHTON SIMPSON, '18, 2d Lieutenant, 6th Dragoons; Royal Flying Corps, British Army, mentioned for gallant and distinguished services in the field by Field Marshal Sir John French.

RICHARD H. SIMPSON, AM. 12, Relief Work in Belgium.

WILLIAM A. SLATER, '14, American Ambulance Service.

JAMES H. SMITH, Jr., '02, American Ambulance Service.

JEREMIAH SMITH, Jr., '92, War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

J. ROBINSON SMITH, G.S. '99-00, Relief Work in Belgium.

MARIUS N. SMITH-PETERSEN, M.D. '14, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

FRANK W. SNOW, M.D. '02, Harvard Surgical Unit.

EDWARD C. SORTWELL, ‘15 American Ambulance Service.

RICHARD B. SOUTHGATE, '15, in Bank of American Citizens' Association in Berne, Switzerland.

ISAAC C. SPICER, LL.B. '13, joined Ammunition Corps at Fredericton, N.B.

CHARLES B. SPRUIT, M.D. '15, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

JOHN J. STACK, M.D. '07, with Dr. Strong in Serbia.

E. BIRNEY STACKPOLE, G.S. '00-01, Princess Patricia Regiment of Canada.

T. HARWOODD STACY, L. '11-12, Relief Work in Belgium.

HORACE B. STANTON, '00, Secretary, American Distributing Service in France.

DILLWYN P. STARR, '08, served in France as member of American Volunteer Motor-Ambulance Corps of London; drove armored motors with British Expeditionary Force in the Dardanelles; Lieutenant, 2d Battalion, Coldstream Guards; killed in action in France, September 15, 1916.

ROLAND W. STEBBINS, '03, American Ambulance Service.

FREDERICK A. STERLING, '98, American Embassy at Petrograd, special work with Austrian and German prisoners.

HAROLD W. STEVENS, M. '09-10, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JOSEPH H. STEVENSON, '09, American Ambulance Service.

EDWARD M. STONE, '08, Foreign Legion, French Army, Machine Gun Section; died from wounds in military hospital at Roundly, France.

BYRON P. STOOKEY, M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

A. GALE STRAW, M.D. '90, Harvard Surgical Unit.

RICHARD P. STRONG, Professor of Tropical Medicine; American Ambulance Hospital Unit, in charge of Red Cross work against typhus in Serbia.

FRANK STUHL, D.M.D. '05, American Ambulance Hospital, Paris.

HENRY M. SUCKLEY, '10 American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

WILLIAM M. SULLIVAN, L. '13-14, American Ambulance Service.

F. C. DE SUMICHRAST Associate Professor of French, Emeritus; Captain, Ealing and Hanwell Battalion, 10th Middlesex Regiment, National Reserve.

LOUIS A. SUSSDORFF, '10, American Embassy, Paris.

ARTHUR SWEETSER, '11, War Correspondent.

CHARLES W. TAINTOR, 2d, '18, American Ambulance Service.

GEORGE F. TALBOT, '16, American Ambulance Service.

MELVIN F. TALBOT, '16, American Ambulance Service.

GEORGE S. TAYLOR, '08, attached to a French Hospital.

HAROLD W. V. TEMPERLEY, Lecturer on History, '11-12; Lieutenant in Fife and Forfar Yeomanry, British Army.

JOHN JENKS THOMAS, AM. and M.D. '90, Harvard Surgical Unit.

PAUL TISON, '18, Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

HAROLD G. TOBEY, M.D. '11, Harvard Surgical Unit.

EDWARD B. TOWNE, '06, M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JAMES C. TRUMBULL, '12, Assistant to Eliot Wadsworth, '98, in Work with War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

PERCY R. TURNURE, '94, M.D. (Columbia) '98, Chateau Passy Hospital, near Sens, France.

ABRAM L. VAN METER, M.D. '13, Harvard Surgical Unit.

JOHN B. VAN SCHAICK, L. '88-89, Relief Work in Belgium.

RUFUS A. VAN VOAST, M.D. '06, Assistant to Dr. Martin in Foreign Legion, French Army.

HENRY R. VIETS, Jr., M.D. '16, Harvard Surgical Unit.

BETH VINCENT, '18, M.D. '02, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

ROBERT H. VOSE, M.D. '96, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ELIOT WADSWORTH, '98, War Relief Commission, Rockefeller Foundation.

HORACE S. WAITE, '09, Chauffeur for English Expeditionary Force in Northern France.

FRANCIS COX WALKER, '94, Lieutenant, 3d Regiment, Canadian Garrison Artillery.

JOHN M. WALKER, '11, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

JOSEPH WALKER, LL.B. '90, Chairman of Sub-Committee On Transportation; later Chairman of Lucerne-American Relief Committee.

RICHARD C. WARE, '04, American Ambulance Service.

PAUL B. WATSON, Jr., ’15, American Ambulance Service.

WILLIAM B. WEBSTER, Jr., '11, American Ambulance Service.

REGINALD H. WELLER, '11, American Ambulance Service.

HAROLD F. WESTON, ‘66, Y.M.C.A. Army Hut Work.

WALTER H. WHEELER, Jr., '18, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

PAUL D. WHITE, '08, M.D. '15, Harvard Surgical Unit.

HERBERT H. WHITE, '93, Business Manager, Harvard Surgical Unit.

CROSBY CHURCH WHITMAN, '89, in charge of two small hospitals for officers and men, in Paris; died March 29, 1916.

RICHARD WHORISKEY, '97, assisted at American Consulate, Hanover, Germany.

FRANCIS C. WICKES, LL.B. '15, Relief Work in Belgium.

BERTRAM WILLIAMS, '18, American Ambulance Service.

GEORGE WILLIAMSON, '08, Lieutenant in English Army in Belgium; died of wounds November 12, 1914; believed to be first Harvard man killed in the War.

HAROLD B. WILLIS, '12, American Ambulance Service, received Croix de Guerre.

CHARLES S. WILSON, '97, 1st Secretary, American Embassy, Petrograd; fitted up American Embassy at Petrograd, at own expense, as hospital to care for wounded Russian soldiers.

EDWIN C. WILSON, '17, American Ambulance Service.

GEORGE GRAFTON WILSON, Professor of International Law; U.S. Legal Adviser to American Legation at the Hague.

PHILIP D. WILSON, '09, M.D. '12, American Ambulance Hospital Unit.

CHARLES P. WINS0R, '17, American Ambulance Service.

PAUL WITHINGTON, '09, M.D. '14, Harvard Surgical Unit.

ROBERT WITHIINGTON, '06, Commission for Relief in Belgium, first in Limbourg and then in Antwerp.

OLIVER WOLCOTT, '13, American Ambulance Service.

PHILIP H. WOOD, '16, American Ambulance Service.

ROBERT W. WOOD, '16, American Ambulance Service.

HARRY GUSTAV BYNG, '15; killed, May 16, 1915, while fighting in British Army near Festubert, France.

ANDRÉ C. CHAMPOLLION, '02; killed, March 23, 1915, in trenches at Bois-le-Prêtre, France.

VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN, "3 killed in action, June 23, 1916, fighting for France at Verdun.

ALLEN M. CLEGHORN, Assistant in Physiology, Harvard Medical School, '98-00; Captain in Royal Army Medical Corps; died in England, March 20, 1916, after brief illness.

HENRY AUGUSTUS COIT, '10; died, August 7, 1916, at French military hospital of injuries received at front.

CHARLES ROBERT CROSS, Jr., '03; killed, October 8, 1915, doing ambulance duty in France.

FRITZ DAUB, S.T.M. '14; killed, November 20, 1914, while fighting in German Army in Flanders.

CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY, G.S. '12-14; killed, April 27, 1915, while fighting in British Army at Ypres.

HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTH, '12 killed, September 29, 1915, while fighting in Foreign Legion at Tahure.

MERRILL STANTON GAUNT, And. '14-16; died, April , 1916, of cerebro-spinal meningitis in hospital at Bar-le-Duc, while in Morgan-Harjes Ambulance Service.

HAROLD MARION-CRAWFORD, '11; killed, in spring of 1915, while fighting in British Army at Givenchy.

CLYDE FAIRBANKS MAXWELL, '14; killed in action on the Somme, July 3, 1916.

ROBERT EDOUARD PELLISSIER, '04; killed in action on the Somme, August 29, 1916.

NORMAN PRINCE, '08; killed in France, October, 1916.

ALAN SEEGER, '10; killed in action on the Somme, July, 1916.

DILLWYN PARRISH STARR, '08; killed in action in France, September 15, 1916.

EDWARD MANDELL STONE, '08; died, February 27, 1915, in military hospital at Romilly, France, from wounds received while fighting in Foreign Legion.

CROSBY CHURCH WHITMAN, '86; died, March 29, 1916, in service at Paris hospital.

GEORGE WILLIAMSON, '05; died, November 12, 1914, in Belgium, of wounds received while fighting in British Army.

The following Harvard men were lost in the sinking of the Lusitania, May 7, 1915: CARLTON TEARER BRODRICK, '08; RICHARD RICH FREEMAN, Jr., '09; EDWIN WILLIAM FRIEND, '08; ELBERT HUBBARD, '97; HERBERT STUART STONE, '94.

GEORGE PERKINS KNAPP, '87, died at Diarbekir, Asiatic Turkey, on or about August 7, 1915, from fever or poison, after helping Armenians who sought refuge at his mission when Turkey entered the War.