nd far between; we slept very little.

On the second night I was standing sentry on the banquette. My watch
extended from twelve to one, the hour when the air is raw and the
smell of the battle line is penetrating. The night was pitch black; in
ponds and stagnant streams in the vicinity frogs were chuckling. Their
hoarse clucking could be heard all round; when the star-shells flew up
I could catch vague glimpses of the enemy's sandbags and the line (p. 177)
of tall shrapnel-swept trees which ran in front of his trenches. The
sleep was heavy in my eyes; time and again I dozed off for a second
only to wake up as a shell burst in front or swept by my head. It
seemed impossible to remain awake, often I jumped down to the floor of
the trench, raced along for a few yards, then back to the banquette
and up to the post beside my bayonet.

One moment of quiet and I dropped into a light sleep. I punched my
hands against the sandbags until they bled; the whizz of the shells
passed like ghosts above me; slumber sought me and strove to hold me
captive. I had dreams; a village standing on a hill behind the
opposite trench became peopled; it was summer and the work of haying
and harvesting went on. The men went out to the meadows with
long-handled scythes and mowed the grass down in great swathes. I
walked along a lane leading to the field and stopped at the stile and
looked in. A tall youth who seemed strangely familiar was mowing. The
sweat streamed down his face and bare chest. His shirt was folded
neatly back and his sleeves were thrust up almost to the shoulders.

The work did not come easy to him; he always followed the first (p. 178)
sweep of the scythe with a second which cropped the grass very close
to the ground. For an expert mower the second stroke is unnecessary;
the youngster had not learned to put a keen edge on the blade. I
wanted to explain to him the best way to use the sharping stone, but I
felt powerless to move: I could only remain at the stile looking on.
Sometimes he raised his head and looked in my direction, but took no
notice of me. Who was he? Where had I seen him before? I called out to
him but he took no notice. I tried to change my position, succeeded
and crossed the stile. When I came close to him, he spoke.

"You were long in coming," he said, and I saw it was my brother, a
youngster of eighteen.

"I went to the well for a jug of water," I said, "But it's dry now and
the three trout are dead at