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Peat, Harold R.

"Private Peat"

The sun rises high and
the beams strike with comforting warmth even into the fire-trench where we
gather in groups to catch its every glint.
We feel good on such a morning. We clean up a bit, for things are
quiet--that is, fairly quiet. Only a few shells are flying, there is little
or no rifle fire and nobody is getting killed, nobody is even getting
plugged.
The whole long day passes quietly. We are almost content with our lot. We
laugh a good deal, we joke, we play the eternal penny ante, and possibly
the letters come.
Just before stand-to at sundown the quiet will be broken. The artillery
behind our lines will open up with great activity. We notice that the big
shells only are being used and we notice that they are concentrating
entirely on the German front line, immediately ahead and to the right and
left of where we have our position. We are more than a little interested.
There is decidedly something in the wind. We wait, but nothing happens. We
have stand-to and get our reliefs for guard.
Every man has his bayonet fixed for the night. We give it a little extra
polish. It may be needed soon.


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