peace has died, leaving a cleaner, nobler feeling in its place. Men
who before cheated their neighbors, grasping to themselves all that
came their way, have learned instinctively to share their little all.
The message from Mars, "Halves, partner," has become the general
spirit; and yet some say that there is no finer side to war! As for
the officers, as a rule, no words for them can be too fine. For they
have learned at once to be the leaders and the servants of their men,
tiring themselves out for others' comforts. And the men know it; from
them can come no class hatred in future years. If danger lies in that
direction it must surely come from those who have stayed at home.

For myself, I am slowly learning my lesson; learning that death, which
seems so near one, seldom shakes one by the hand. Learning to look
over the "top" to encourage those whose duty makes them do so.
Learning to walk out with a wiring party to "No Man's Land," or to set
a patrol along its way. Learning to share the risks that others run so
as to win the confidence of my men.

Now let me say a word of the demoralizing effects of dugouts: Often it
takes a conscious effort to leave its safety or to stay away from it
for the dangers of level ground, and this is what all officers must
learn; for men can have no confidence in one who, ordering them out,
stays underground himself. I am learning, but, oh! so slowly, for mine
is not a nature that is really shaped for war. A vivid imagination is
here a handicap, and it is those who have little or none who make the
best soldiers. At last the "finished and finite clod" has come into
his own. Stolid, in a danger he hardly realizes, he remains at his
post, while the other, perchance shaking in every limb, has double the
battle to fight. My pencil wanders on and I hardly seem to know what I
write. Confused thoughts and half-formed impressions crowd through my
brain, and from the chaos some reach the paper. What kind of reading
do they make? I wonder.

* * * * * *

I'm awfully tired, but this may well be my last undisturbed night this
week, and I know how much letters must mean to you waiting and waiting
for news in England. All afternoon I've been wandering about the front
line, exploring, and learning to find my way about that desolate waste
of devastation representing recently captured ground. One waded knee
high amid tangled undergrowth dotted with three-foo