"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 cheerful-
ness 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.

-62-