d by each squad onward to the
next, and so covering the whole front. And last came the captain,
inspecting each post, and when he was satisfied, sending us back with
orders to pick up the rest of our platoon and re-form by the trenches. An
incident of this short march. Randall, when we routed out Squad Six,
produced his last cigarette. His front rank man asked him for half. "No
one divides a cigarette," said Randall, borrowed a match from the man,
and lighted the cigarette himself. Our Lucy, after watching this in
silent amazement, took out his cigarette-box, found he had but one smoke,
and handed it over. Really, if he becomes a man Randall should have half
of the credit.

This afternoon we have at last made a beginning on another part of our
work, the use of the rifle. Some few days ago the captain called for
those of us who had used high-powered rifles; he has since been weeding
them out, till he has a couple of dozen of them to use as coaches. Today
we went "on the galleries," which is a convenient phrase for the use of
small-bore rifles against small targets at short range. At the bottom of
the drill field we hung on wires small wooden frames on which were tacked
paper targets; behind was the low railroad embankment, behind that the
lake. Our rifles were in every detail like the service pieces, except the
smaller bore. We used dummy cartridges as long as the gun usually
requires, but so made as to receive much smaller cartridges, carrying
weak charges of powder--if you understand the lingo, they were "22
shorts." One gang of us was kept at work perpetually loading these
gallery cartridges, and assembling them in clips of five; another gang
was steadily tacking new targets on the frames; and bunch by bunch we
were moved from these duties to the more interesting one of shooting the
cartridges and spoiling the targets.

Since our recent talk in the gymnasium we have been practising, at all
odd minutes, how to hold and sight the guns, and how to pull the trigger.
Never before coming here had I heard of the _squeeze_, in which (of
another kind) all army men are popularly supposed to be proficient by
nature, but which here is technically a special study. The greenhorn
naturally supposes that all he has to do with the gun is, like Stephen in
the classic rhyme, to "p'int de gun, pull on de trigger." But since the
ordinary pull is a jerk that affects the aim, some genius has invented
the new method. So we are taught first