natural sociability or feeling of loyalty, with perhaps jealousy in
one man, or officiousness in another. Occasionally you will find a squad
whose masterful corporal interferes too much with his men's personal
freedom--and that has to be adjusted by a little plain language.
Sometimes a fellow is discontented with his squad; Randall, for example,
doesn't feel himself appreciated by his mates, and seeks chums elsewhere.
But none of his new intimates stay by him very long.

Our squad holds together very well; we eat together when our tents are
not too long a journey from the mess tent, a matter of consequence with a
brimming dish, and in general we have a constant eye out for each other's
movements. But more than this, we are taking Squad Nine into a little
confederation; they are men of the most diverse sorts but very much of a
unit, and all bright, witty, and ready to cooperate. Indeed, having a
system of fetching each other's hay and filling each other's canteens,
they have a better squad organization than we. It has pleased me very
much that our banter between the tents at Plattsburg has turned into the
friendliest of feeling, so that we naturally seek each other out. We gave
them a spread last night, and today are invited to another in return.

The column on the march is an amusing thing. Taken in little, I have got
very familiar with the backs and legs of the four in front, Bann's
springy tread, Clay's sturdy tramp, the little stiffness that shows in
ancient Corder's gait, and the untiring litheness of Knudsen's swing.
Beside me Reardon trudges silently, his hat always flopped a little over
his eyes, his head up. Sometimes I make him talk, and have pried out of
him much of his family history. Beyond him Pickle goes on springs,
cracking jokes like a little internal combustion engine. And David, now
very tanned and wide awake, finishes our four. Without looking, we know
the voice of each of our neighbors behind or in front, even so far as the
witless stutterer some squads ahead, or the flat-voiced constant querist
somewhere behind. But now when he raises his song his neighbors shut him
up.

Our company in column always remembers who commands it. The first song we
begin to sing, and the last we give up, is the Buzzard song, to show our
loyalty. Incidentally the song has improved discipline, for yesterday
when a buzzard approached us with the inevitable chocolate, tobacco, and
matches, we passed him along down the line