d
nicely full of water from the rain. Light-footed David slipped across,
but I, being heavier, plunged in up to my shin. Then came a barbed wire
fence, with the wires so taut that they would not separate to let us
through, nor sag to let us easily over. We were helping each other, as is
the rule, and the sergeant was hurrying us, as was his duty, when he was
answered back by a corporal--not of our platoon, but one who with his
squad had become annexed in the confusion. A little back-talk with an
audience of silent men; our fellows remembered the new agreement. Then on
we went again, stormed another position, and at last, every cartridge
spent (my head was ringing with the firing, and rings yet!) we were
assembled in the muddy road.

A little interview, then while we rested, between the sergeant, the
corporal, and the captain, who demanded the reason for our platoon's
delay. The corporal was explanatory; the captain had to silence him. Then
the captain praised the company. (He also sent a message to us at
Retreat, where the lieutenant commanded--we had done well; he would try
to keep us out of brooks hereafter. I like these laconic statements; they
mean much.) Then I company, with full cartridge belts, took up the
advance-guard work along the road, and we saw them rummage out of a barn
some cavalrymen who had hidden there. But soon, the day's manoeuvre over,
we began the hike to camp. I wish you could have seen it.

The rain was over, though it was still cloudy and the cold wind was
strong. The road was a mass of mud; there was no walking in it. We made
two long lines, one on each side of it, and took up our brisk walk. Mile
after mile in every footing, through desolate country where the scrub was
low, the land slightly rolling, bleak, uninhabited. The road ran mostly
straight; as it dipped you could see ahead the two lines of men swiftly
plodding on and on.

There was talk at first, and some jokes. "That road looks worse than
this," said one. "I wonder they didn't take us down it." The bushes
looked very wet. "How about squad columns through that brush?" suggested
one. "Try the prone position from the middle of the road," retorted
another, as we passed a great puddle. A later puddle, chocolate brown,
roused another man's regrets. "I'd like to stop and wash my breakfast
kit. I used the water they provided at camp, but this looks better to
me." But gradually all talk died away, and we just drove on and on. There
were q