the story, travels.

PRIVATE GODWIN'S DAILY LETTER

Cadyville, N. Y., Oct. 4, 1916.

DEAR MOTHER:--

We were up today as usual at half past five, those who were lucky rising
a little earlier for more comfortable dressing. And yet, after all, ten
minutes is enough for those few observances which may be dignified with
the name of our toilet. The pint and a half in the canteens allows us a
scrub of the teeth, and a rinsing of the face and hands--no more,
especially if we are to have anything to drink on the day's march, for
the morning, with an empty water-butt, is no time to replenish the
supply. Pickle, having a budding mustache, carries a pocket mirror and
comb, and so can arrange his hair; but the rest are usually satisfied
with a hasty smoothing with the hands--and since the hat goes on at once
and stays on, why not? Because of the cold, all sleep in their stockings,
which saves morning time, besides preventing bother in the lacing of the
trousers. (It is at night and at the swim that stockings are changed.)
Thus in the morning only the shoes and the leggings must go on; we are
already in our sweaters, and so are soon prepared for the first
formation. The cartridge-belt and rifle are dragged out from the straw
and laid ready in case they are called for; then one can proceed with
packing the squad-bag, and with striking the tent and separating the
shelter-halves. Old Bann is a wise one; he always begins by securing his
five tent-pins, and so leaves to me the responsibility of rummaging out
the remaining five, of which one always dodges me for a while.

The second call sounds, to be followed by the first sergeant's whistle.
"Corporals, get your men out! Belts and rifles!" There is snatching up
and buckling, then there is scientific delay over packing, with eye and
ear to the exhortations of sergeants and squad leaders; but at last even
the slowest are on their way to the head of the street to take their
places. The corporals are calling the numbers of their squads, "Six!"
"Nine!" "Twelve!" and with anxious eyes are watching for their belated
men. The line forms: there is a gap here for a smoking fire, and other
gaps that mean absentees. Rear-rank men step forward to fill the places
of their file-leaders, and as the assembly sounds the front-rank men are
glad to slip, unobserved, into the vacant spaces in the rear.
"Report!"--"First squad, present." "Second squad, pri