"
This is an expression of the men on the Western Front when they have a
premonition that their time on earth is short. A sudden fear smote me,
but I banished the thought and started jollying him profanely.
"Now, Corporal, you know what damn nonsense it is to talk that way! Do
you want to wish it on yourself?"
"No, Grant, I should say not, but I can't help thinking it, all the
same."
"Yes, Lawrence," said McLean. "For God's sake don't wish any trouble on
us more than we have got."
Billy McLean was my dearest pal; we had enlisted together and had formed
one of those attachments that men sometimes make and is only severed by
death, and we shared each other's most intimate thoughts. The words had
scarcely died on McLean's lips when--Woo-o-f! Bang! Bang! and shells
commenced to land all about us.
The spot we had selected to rest on was under observation; Fritz had
evidently become aware of the fact that it was our usual course in
coming to the trench and had registered the place for a target, just as
he registered battery roads, ammunition depots, railway heads, sleeping
quarters,--everywhere and anywhere that exhibited a trace of life
immediately became an observation target and was subject to a hail of
shell and shrapnel any hour of the day or night.
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