the corporal or sergeant in command will detail a couple of men for ration
party. Ration party is no pleasant job; as Tommy terms it, it is "one of
the rottenest ever."

[Illustration: ©_Famous Players--Lasky Corporation. Scene from the
Photo-Play_

"WHO'S THE GIRL, PEAT?"]

The two unhappy boys will crawl out as soon as it is dark. They reach the
supply wagon, or it may be only a dump of goods. There they will find the
quartermaster in charge, in all likelihood. To him they tell their platoon
number--Number Sixteen Platoon, Section Four, perhaps--and the
quartermaster will hand them the rations. One man will get half a dozen
parcels, maybe more. His comrade never offers to relieve him of any--to the
comrade there is designated a higher duty. The quartermaster takes up with
care and hands with tenderness to the second man a jar, or possibly a jug.

On going back to the trenches a thoughtless sentry may halt the ration
party. I have seen it done. I have heard the conversation. I dare not write
it. There goes one of the boys, both arms hugging a miscellaneous
assortment of packages. He slips and struggles and swears and falls, then
picks himself up and gathers together the scattered bundles. But what of
the other? A jug held tightly in both hands, he chooses his steps as would
a dainty Coryphee. He dare not trip. He dare not fall. He MUST not spill
one drop. Jugs are hard to replace in France; in fact, it is much easier to
get a jug in Nebraska than in France.

The boys finally reach the trench in safety, and next morning the rations
are issued at "stand-to." "Stand-to" is the name given to the sunrise hour,