Paths of Glory by Irvin S. Cobb — Read

You know how four of us blundered into the German lines in a taxicab; / and how, getting out of German hands after three days and back to / Brussels, we undertook, in less than twenty-four hours thereafter, to / trail the main forces then shoving steadily southward with no other goal / before them but Paris.

First by hired hack, as we used to say when writing accounts of funerals / down in Paducah, then afoot through the dust, and finally, with an / equipment consisting of that butcher's superannuated dogcart, that / elderly mare emeritus and those two bicycles, we made our zigzagging way / downward through Belgium.