Nearly every soldier reverts more or less to a boyish point of
view. He hankers for somebody to mother him. I should be glad to
see many women of that type in the Y.M.C.A. work. It is one of the
great needs of our army that the boys should be amused and kept
clean mentally and morally. I don't believe there is any
organization better qualified to do this than the Y.M.C.A.

Most of our chaps spent their time "on their own" either in the
Y.M.C.A. hut or in the _estaminets_ while we were in Petite-Saens.
Our stop there was hardly typical of the rest in billets. Usually
"rest" means that you are set to mending roads or some such fatigue
duty. At Petite-Saens, however, we had it "cushy."

The routine was about like this: Up at 6:30, we fell in for
three-quarters of an hour physical drill or bayonet practice.
Breakfast. Inspection of ammo and gas masks. One hour drill. After
that, "on our own", with nothing to do but smoke, read, and gamble.

Tommy is a great smoker. He gets a fag issue from the government,
if he is lucky, of two packets or twenty a week. This lasts him
with care about two days. After that he goes smokeless unless he
has friends at home to send him a supply. I had friends in London
who sent me about five hundred fags a week, and I was consequently
popular while they lasted. This took off some of the curse of being
a lance corporal.

Tommy has his favorite in "fags" like anybody else. He likes above
all Wild Woodbines. This cigarette is composed of glue, cheap
paper, and a poor quality of hay. Next in his affection comes
Goldflakes--pretty near as bad.