singing one of the popular trench ditties entitled:

"Pack up your Troubles in your Old Kit Bag, and
Smile, Smile, Smile."

Every now and then the singer would stop to
Cough, Cough, Cough,

but it was a good illustration of Tommy's cheerfulness under such
conditions.

A machine-gun officer entered the dugout and gave me a hard look. I
sneaked past him, sliding, and slipping and reached my section of the
front-line trench where I was greeted by the Sergeant, who asked me,
"Where in 'ell 'ave you been?"

I made no answer, but sat on the muddy fire step, shivering with the
cold and with the rain beating in my face. About half an hour later I
teamed up with another fellow and went on guard with my head sticking
over the top. At ten o'clock I was relieved and resumed my sitting
position on the fire step. The rain suddenly stopped and we all
breathed a sigh of relief. We prayed for the morning and the rum
issue.



CHAPTER X

"THE DAY'S WORK"