o know that in wartime I could not reply. When at noon we were marched
back to camp and dismissed I sought out Haynes and asked, "What is your
opinion of that artillery coach?" Said he, "I'm going to speak to the
captain about him." "Thanks," I said. "You'll save me the trouble." And
when again I came back to the post in the afternoon, though the corporal
was there, he was very quiet and good.

This incident makes me doubt the value, for such volunteers as we, of the
regular non-coms whom they hope to have here next year, if by that time
the troops are off the border. What help could such an overbearing
conceited drill-master, with no inkling of our difficulties or our point
of view, give to such a squad as ours? Would he last a week out of
hospital, or we a week out of arrest? No, give us a Plattsburg veteran of
one camp as corporal, and appoint as sergeants those who have served two,
and we shall come on faster. Further, more men would thus be trained for
responsible positions.

In the afternoon we shot at 600 yards. We now had sandbag rests for our
left hands (not for our guns) and once more the captain showed his
foresight. He had us bring intrenching shovels and a dozen new burlap
bags, and soon we were provided with the best sandbags on the range. I
had the same nice little Haynes who had coached me on my second target.
Unsatisfied as I still am with my showing, I think he drilled into me
some idea of my errors, and my score again improved, standing at forty. I
feel better than if it had wavered up and down, even if the total had
been the same, and can reasonably argue that if the captain kept on
increasing the distance, say to 2000 yards, I should make a perfect
score. But many men, I find, did their worst at this distance, Randall
ending up at 24. Lucy has pegged steadily along, and got into the
thirties.

The supper-tables buzzed tonight as never before, every man having his
tale to tell, generally a tale of woe. Poor Knudsen is very sore, as his
last shot went into his neighbor's bullseye, and though the neighbor had
finished shooting, the shot could not be credited to Knudsen. There are
many other stories of misses that spoiled the score, and on the other
hand when a man has made a ricochet hit he is not inclined to brag of it.
Even those who from my point of view did very well are a little inclined
to grumble; and the only really satisfied man is Percy of Squad Nine, who
holds today's record.

Concerning