Jimmy didn’t try to put the tent up in regulation way. He got a few small branches, a stick or two, and with the poles that O. D. had he made a shelter that would at least keep some wind away or afford protection against rain.
“I lost all my pins and poles ’round Château-Thierry,” he said in apology for using his bayonet as a tent-pin.
Jimmy had two blankets and O. D. had three. They spread them all out on the ground, tucked in the end near the opening of the tent and crawled between the blankets, leaving two between them and the earth.
“Roll your blouse up and use it for a pillow. Generally I use my gas-mask, sometimes my tin hat, for a pillow, if it’s cold and I’m alone. Neil and I used to cushay together, but he can hang with Pop or Joyce, as he knows how to get along here.”
CHAPTER XIII—“WE’RE GOIN’ TO TAKE METZ.”
O. D. turned restlessly for a long time before he could adapt his body to the topography of the ground that was his bed. He had funny feelings in his joints as if something was grinding against the bones, especially when he remained in one position long. Jimmy’s snoring told him that his new friend was asleep.
The new-comer to the environs of the front lay awake almost two hours. He thought of home, of his mother, of Mary, and of what was before him. Now and then a distant rumbling as if thunder was muttering in far-away skies came to his ears.
Jimmy had explained the rumbling as being the noise of guns that were perhaps twenty kilometers away. O. D. couldn’t put down the idea that he was near the front, the thing that he had been working toward since becoming a soldier. The idea gripped him so strongly that he couldn’t stay the restless feelings which worked through his veins fire-like.
He sat up, reached for his shoes, slipped them on, and crawled out of the tent.
The night was singularly clear for France. A growing moon and myriad stars had purged the world of shadows and given it a generous possession of silver light. Except for the soft noises made by the horses and the occasional rumble that came from the hills of Verdun, the night was quiet and suggestive of peaceful repose.