weary
that I went to sleep a few minutes after lights out. Sullen thunders
mingled with my dreams and did not wake me up.

Another clear day. Would the fine weather never end? Late in the
afternoon, however, a few clouds collected on the horizon. In the
evening the entire sky was overcast and not a star was to be seen. And
as we went to bed we heard the rain swishing down upon the canvas roof.
The unspeakable joy we all felt at the prospect of an untroubled night!

"Bloody fine, this rain: we'll get some proper sleep now, thank God. I
never had the wind up so much in all my life, and I've been out here
since '15 and in some pretty hot places too."

"I reckon the longer yer out 'ere the windier yer get. I joined up in
'14 like a bloody fool. At first I didn't care a damn for anything. Then
I was wounded on the Somme an' sent across to Blighty. I dreaded comin'
back agin. I only 'ad a little wound in me 'and, an' I used ter plug it
wi' dubbin' an' boot-polish ter keep it raw. It didn't 'alf 'urt, but it
gave me a extra week or two in 'orspittle. I 'ad to go in the end
though--the M.O. didn't 'alf give me a tellin' orf. Jesus Christ, didn't
I 'ave the wind up when we went up the line! An' now I'm scared at the
slightest sound, an' I sometimes wake up out o' me sleep shiverin' all
over. When I was on leave a motor-car backfired in the street--it didn't
'alf make me jump; me mate 'oo was with me said I looked as white as a
sheet. The longer yer out 'ere the worse yer get--it's yer nerves, yer
know, they can't stand it. In the line it's always the new men what's
the most reliable...."

"That's a bloody fact. When we first come out, I thought all the Belgian
civvies a lot o' bloody cowards takin' cover whenever Fritz came over.
_We_ used to stand an' look at 'im. They wasn't cowards, it was us who
was bloody fools. They knew summat about it, we didn't. All the same, I
know one or two old reg'lars 'oo was in it from the first an' never 'ad
the wind up any time--there's not many like that though, generally it's
the old soldiers what's the worst o' the lot for wanglin' out o' risky
jobs."

"Napoleon was right," observed a small, red-haired lance-corporal, whose
remarks generally had a sardonic touch, "when he said the worse the man
the better the soldier. It's only people who have no imagination and no
intelligence who are courageous in modern war. Nobody with any sense
would expose himself unnecessarily and rush a machine-