ving a new line than they sent forward more feelers. In this action
it was very interesting for a time to simulate real firing, shooting with
blank cartridges at an enemy behind a stone wall.

And yet shooting from behind hard heaps of stone, or lying on rough
ground, through grass and leaves that obscured the sights, all the time
troubled by a heavy pack that burdened the shoulders, poked the hat over
the eyes, and hampered the free action of the arms, began to wear on me.
Try as I may, I cannot master the little sidewise shift of the pack which
the captain showed us, and which Godwin says makes shooting prone "just
as easy!" Looking at the other men, I often saw them flop on their faces
to rest; they were working as hard as on the range. The pretense of
firing, when our cartridges were gone, took away some of the excitement.
Then at about the fifth dash, which the others took with some briskness
but which I had to finish at a slow jog, I began to get pumped. When the
first sergeant asked me how I was I told him that I was shot through both
lungs. Nevertheless, I finished (though at a walk) the next to last
charge, but our dash had been so exposed that, by the time I had thrown
myself panting on some particularly jagged stones, an umpire came along
and announced that all rear-rank men were to fall out, of course as being
dead. Godwin was disgusted, and evidently seeing my envy in my face,
swapped places with me. Never was anyone so willing to be killed. Quite
at my leisure I watched the spirited advance of the thin line of o. d.
men to storm the enemy's position. And I was perfectly willing not to be
killed twice.

Our little club of middle-aged men still holds its impromptu sessions,
members comparing experiences and solicitously inquiring as to each
other's condition. So far as I can see we are keeping up pretty well,
except for the ability to make such awful repeated dashes as today's work
required. And even then a few minutes' rest sets us on our feet again.

Pitching the tents, making camp, etc., is now routine work. The
encampment is as picturesque as before. Tomorrow night we also spend
here; whether or not we shall mercifully be permitted to leave the tents
pitched, the morning will decide. But I am well, and blisterless, and
refreshed, and tomorrow shall be ready to die again.

Lovingly,

ERASMUS.

FROM PRIVATE GODWIN TO HIS MOTHER