"By the way," said the _chef d'orchestre_, "what is the American
national anthem?"
"'Yankee Doodle,'" replied the Commandant.
The Chief Instructor said he'd always understood it was "Hail,
Columbia."
The Adjutant was of the opinion that "The Star-Spangled Banner" filled
the bill, while the Quartermaster cast his vote for "My country, 'tis
of thee."
The _chef d'orchestre_ thrashed his bosom and rent his coiffure.
"_Dieu!_" he wailed, "I can't play all of them--_figurez-vous_!"
Without stopping to do any figuring they heartily agreed that he
couldn't. "Tell you what," said the Commandant at length, "write
to your music-merchant in Paris and leave it to him."
The _chef d'orchestre_ said he would, and did so.
Next Sunday evening, as the concert drew to a close, the band flung
into the _Marseillaise_, and the subalterns of all nations kept
to attention. They stood to attention through "God Save the King,"
through the national anthems of Russia, Italy, Portugal, Rumania,
Serbia, Belgium, Montenegro and Monte Carlo, all our brave Allies.
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