r sods to lay on the edges of the
tent to keep out the wind.

Afternoons are always pretty full. We are said to have our time to
ourselves--yes, and if conference on the manoeuvres is omitted (as today,
when our battalion had no manoeuvres to confer about), it really amounts
to something. And I have gained time by toughening myself, the rest I
used to crave at Plattsburg and on the range no longer being necessary.
But I love to linger over the luxury of the swim--or rather the bath--if
there is an accessible stream. There was none at Cherubusco, and to tell
the truth I didn't miss it, so weary was I, and the weather so cold. But
yesterday and today I enjoyed the chance to soap myself and souse. Next
if there is mail (and I can always depend on my letter from you) I like
to enjoy it and skim the newspaper. After that the rifle should be
cleaned, even on such a day as this when I did not fire a shot, for the
barrel has a habit of "sweating" which requires it to be cleaned out and
oiled. And then hundreds of us fall to on our letters home, always in a
public place, with talk going on all about, and with men going by who
pause and interrupt.

For in our company, and I doubt not in all the others, there is the
friendliest feeling for each other, and for each other's fortunes. We
know that So-and-so has had a sprain, that such a man is in trouble with
his digestion, that Hill has a fallen arch, and that Homans has terribly
blistered his feet and is these days riding on the trucks, poor devil.
Those who have met at the hospital tent have a common interest. Thus
getting acquainted, we hail each other when we meet in the street, stop
at each other's fires, compare notes, congratulate on recovery,
sympathize. There are, too, the recognized jokers, men who are always
looking out for a chance to make a hit. And finally camp news is handed
along from man to man.

With all this going on, afternoon and evening, a fellow is continually
interested and, you may say, busy. There is good feeling almost
everywhere, though it is interesting to see how the degree of it varies.

You see this particularly in the solidarity of squads. There is somewhere
in the regiment, I am told, a squad that does nothing but squabble; the
men have nearly all in turn been corporal, and no one will obey. But
mostly there is bound to spring up a feeling of unity, as the eight men
sleep and march and manoeuvre together. This will differ according to the
men's