As this French soldier drew close he brought up his hand in smart salute to his own officer and the Americans.

Greg turned to look back, but the French soldier was no longer looking their way.
Up the street, away from where the Ninety-ninth American sentries were posted, soldiers of the American military police patrolled.
"You see how American this city has become," said Captain Ribaut.
"Here French law runs only for citizens of France.

Your American military authorities look after your own men." French shopkeepers, speaking a quaint, broken English, came to their shop doors to greet the Americans, even to urge the newcomers to enter and buy, but Captain Ribaut waved all such aside with a simple gesture.
Further on they passed through a public square.

By this time many French people were about, but Dick noted that they betrayed no curiosity over the appearance of newly arrived American officers.
The sight had become an old story to these people who, however, bowed courteously as they passed.
Down other streets Ribaut led the way, and so they arrived at last at a railway station.
"We are about in time," remarked the Frenchman, after glancing at his wrist watch.

"We shall get our seats in the train, and then we shall not wait long." Past French guards and saluting railway employees the little party went.