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Four Weeks in the Trenches - The War Story of a Violinist by Fritz Kreisler
page 9 of 44 (20%)
with various tin cooking and eating utensils; furthermore a second
pair of shoes, extra blouse, changes of underwear, etc. On top of
this heavy pack a winter overcoat and part of a tent were strapped,
the entire weight of the equipment being in the neighborhood of fifty
pounds. The day wore on. Signs of fatigue soon manifested
themselves more and more strongly, and slowly the men dropped
out one by one, from sheer exhaustion. No murmur of complaint,
however, would be heard. Most of those who fell out of line, after
taking a breathing space for a few minutes, staggered on again.
The few that remained behind joined the regiment later on when
camp was established. We wondered then at the necessity of such
a forced march, being unable to see a reason for it, unless it was to
put us in training.

Night had fallen when we reached a small monastery in the midst of
a forest, where the peaceful surroundings and the monastic life,
entirely untouched by the war fever, seemed strange indeed. Camp
was established, tents erected, fires were lighted, and coffee made.
Soon a life of bustling activity sprang up in the wilderness, in the
midst of the forest which only a few hours before had been
deserted.

It made a weird and impressive picture in the wonderful starlight
night, these soldiers sitting around the camp fires softly singing in
chorus; the fantastic outlines of the monastery half hidden in the
woods; the dark figures of the monks moving silently back and forth
amongst the shadows of the trees as they brought refreshments to
the troops; the red glow of the camp fires illuminating the eager and
enthusiastic faces of the young officers grouped around the colonel;
the snorting and stamping of the horses nearby; an occasional
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