hands, and a rough but kindly voice said:

"Here, my lad, lend a hand clearing the trench, but keep your head
down, and look out for snipers. One of the Fritz's is a daisy, and
he'll get you if you're not careful."

Lying on my belly on the bottom of the trench, I filled sandbags with
the sticky mud. They were dragged to my rear by the other men, and the
work of rebuilding the parapet was on. The harder I worked, the better
I felt. Although the weather was cold, I was soaked with sweat.

Occasionally a bullet would crack overhead, and a machine gun would
kick up the mud on the bashed-in parapet. At each crack I would duck
and shield my face with my arm. One of the older men noticed this
action of mine, and whispered:

"Don't duck at the crack of a bullet, Yank; the danger has passed,--
you never hear the one that wings you. Always remember that if you are
going to get it, you'll get it, so never worry."

This made a great impression on me at the time, and from then on, I
adopted his motto, "If you're going to get it, you'll get it."

It helped me wonderfully. I used it so often afterwards that some of
my mates dubbed me, "If you're going to get it, you'll get it."

After an hour's hard work, all my nervousness left me, and I was
laughing and joking with the rest.

At one o'clock, dinner came up in the form of a dixie of hot stew.