FATE, EPARGES.
January, 1916.
"Mamma! your ears are tingling to-day——"
I left Colonel Moran's shelter and directed my steps toward our own, following the board path. I walked with difficulty because the terrain was bad. On my right the mud was so deep that one could not step out into it without sinking up to the hips!
The boches commenced to shell us with 150's. The first shot fell between Montgirmont and Eparges, in plain view, 75 to 125 yards from me. The second burst 125 yards to the left, back of our little board chapel, raising a great fuss.
The third hit ten feet from me—whack! It did not explode, but splattered me from head to foot—I couldn't be picked up with pincers!
"Mamma! your ears are tingling to-day."
THE COLONEL WHO LOVES GOOD MUSIC, EPARGES.
January, 1916.
Bombardment all morning—the hill trembles——
I am lunching with Colonel X——, an immense Corsican, who never knows what fear is——
The meal is, ma foi, very good and very lively. A big boche torpedo burst not far away——