on our shadows left our hands and our heads, and that thrill
of glory was of no use.

Indeed, its memory filled our hearts with a sort of bitterness. "You
see, there's no trenches anywhere about here," grumbled the men.

"And why are there no trenches?" said a wrongheaded man; "why, it's
because they don't care a damn for soldiers' lives."

"Fathead!" the corporal interrupted; "what's the good of trenches
behind, if there's one in front, fathead!"

* * * * * *

"Halt!"

We saw the Divisional Staff go by in the beam of a searchlight. In
that valley of night it might have been a procession of princes rising
from a subterranean palace. On cuffs and sleeves and collars badges
wagged and shone, golden aureoles encircled the heads of this group of
apparitions.

The flashing made us start and awoke us forcibly, as it did the night.

The men had been pressed back upon the side of the sunken hollow to
clear the way; and they watched, blended with the solidity of the dark.
Each great person in his turn pierced the fan of moted sunshine, and
each was lighted up for some paces. Hidden and abashed, the
shadow-soldiers began to speak in very low voices of those who went by
like torches.

They who passed first, guiding the Staff, were the company and
battalion officers. We knew them. The quiet comments breathed from
the darkness were composed either of praises or curses; these were good
and clear-sighted officers; those were triflers or skulkers.

"That's one that's killed some men!"

"That's one I'd be killed for!"

"The infantry officer who really does all he ought," Pelican declared,
"well, he get's killed."

"Or else he's lucky."

"There's black and there's white in the company officers. At bottom
you know, I say they're men. It's just a chance you've got whether you
tumble on the good or the bad sort. No good worrying. It's just
luck."

"More's the pity for us."

The soldier who said that smiled vaguely, lighted by a reflection from
the chiefs. One read in his face an acquiescence which recalled to me
certain beautiful smiles I had caught sight of in former days on
toilers' humble faces. Those who are around me are saying to
themselves, "Thus it is written," and they think no farther than that,
massed all mistily in the darkness, like vague hordes of negroes.

Then officers went by of whom we did not speak, because we did not know
them. These unknown tab-bear