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Grant, Reginald

"S.O.S. Stand to!"

"
So that when we finally tumbled in, it was long after the witching hour
of night.
The dugout we occupied we had built ourselves, and we took great pains
to make it as roomy and comfortable as possible; hence the tendency of
the fellows to make it their rendezvous. Our bunks consisted of sandbags
spread out on the floor, and the ceremony of retiring occupied about one
minute or less.
A half-muffled shriek woke me from a sound sleep and brought me bolt
upright in the bunk. In the blackness I could just discern the outline
of a man standing in the middle of the dugout and gulping as if trying
to catch his breath. I jumped up and went to him. It was Billy. "What is
it, Billy? What's the trouble?"
"Oh, Reg," he gasped, "I have had the most horrible dream!" He was
shaking like an aspen. I put my arm around him and drew him over to my
bunk. "Come, lie down with me, old man, and you will be as right as the
rain in a minute." He laid down alongside of me and, still shivering, he
recounted his dream to me.
"Do you remember that night I was telling you about when I was out
observing?"
"Yes," I answered.


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