One cold night Paul stood two hours guard over a Gatling gun that was placed in a shed with no sides and the fierce, cold wind whistled and penetrated his very bones.

He was worn out with a heavy day's drill and concluded that he could watch the gun as well above in the shelter as by standing alongside.

He mounted the beam and stretched himself out on a board.

He knew, that it was instant death to be caught sleeping on guard, but he could not refrain from closing his eyes and was soon in a fretful slumber from which he was awakened by the crunching of the frozen snow under the feet of the advancing relief.

Quick as lightning he dropped to his post and sang out the hail: "Halt, who comes ?" the answer sounded, "France." On being questioned by the officer why he did not hail them sooner, according to orders, he assured him that, "the words had been frozen down his throat and he could not get them out sooner." The gay Frenchman laughed at his unique excuse and relieved him; but it was a close call for Paul.
Before the armistice was ended, the news of the peace declared arrived in camp and soon after orders were given to march for Havre.
The discipline of the regulars was never enjoyed by Paul, neither was their commissary department.