id to me the day after the mumpy ones were taken
over to Meaux: "Lucky fellows. I wish I had the mumps. After Verdun
it must be jolly to be in the hospital with nothing more dangerous than
mumps, and a nice, pretty girl, in a white cap, to pet you. I can't think
of a handsomer way to spend a repos than that."

When I tell you that these soldiers say, "Men who have not been at
Verdun have not seen the war yet," and then add that the life of the
118th here looks like a long picnic, and that they make play of their
work, play of their grenade practice, which they vary with football, play
of their twenty miles hikes, I give you leave to laugh at my way of
seeing the war, and I'll even laugh with you.

That reminds me that I never see a thousand or so of these boys on
the big plain playing what they call football that I don't wish some
American chaps were here to teach them the game. All they do here
is to throw off their coats and kick the ball as far, and as high, as
possible, and run like racers after it, while the crowd, massed on the
edge of the field, yells like mad. The yelling they do very well indeed,
and they kick well, and run well. But, if they only knew the game--
active, and agile, and light as they are--they would enjoy it, and play it
well.

I had one of the nicest thrills I have had for many a day soon after the
118th arrived.

It was a sunny afternoon. I was walking in the road, when, just at the
turn above my house, two officers rode round the corner, saluted me,
and asked if the road led to Quincy. I told them the road to the right at
the foot of the hill, through Voisins, would take them to Quincy. They
thanked me, wheeled their horses across the road and stood there. I
waited to see what was going to happen--small events are interesting
here. After a bit one of them said that perhaps I would be wise to step
out of the road, which was narrow, as the regiment was coming.

I asked, of course, "What regiment?" and "What are they coming
for?" and he answered "The 118th," and that it was simply "taking a
walk."

So I sauntered back to my garden, and down to the corner by the
hedge, where I was high above the road, and could see in both
directions. I had hardly got there when the head of the line came
round the corner. In columns of four, knapsacks on their backs, guns
on their shoulders, swinging at an easy gait, all looking so brown, so
hardy, so clear-eyed, the men from Verdun marched by.

I had th