vagueness that surrounds everything for the individual in this war. Out here men even die with
a certain vagueness.
"How are things with you?" Williams asked. Fairly quiet," the newcomer answered, "just now."
He glanced quickly around as if expectant of something. We walked on with him, subdued by the gun roar and the constant sight of those armed figures, braced against the parapet, peering through loop-holes, quite motionless, yet expectant, too.
Openings to dug-outs made black patches against the sorrel earth at the base of the parapet. The men at the parapet were sentinels. The larger part of the command must lurk in these holes. I entered one. Three forms, quite the colour of the earth on which they lay, crowded a tiny cave. Their log-like sleep suggested the cultivation of a log-like mental attitude or the deliberate encouragement of a fatigue beyond the dispute of nerves.
" What about the rats? some one asked the trench officer as I emerged. "See any rats down there? At home they say the rats are so bad they actually eat the soldiers' faces."
The trench officer spread his hands.
"I can only speak for my own men," he said.
