Man's Land. ''Tis a pity,' says he, 'ye did not bring the band from Caterham also,' says he. ''Twould have amused Jerry.' My new kit was shqueakin' an' clicking the way they could have heard it a mile. Aye, Gouzeaucourt an' the trenches outside Gonnelieu! Jerry was usin' trench-mortars at his pleasure on us those nights. They was crackin' on our heads, ye'll understand. An' I was in a bay with two men. Wan was a new young man, an' the trench-mortars was new to him. Cowld? It was all of that! An' Jerry crackin' this dam' trench mortar-stuff of his on our heads at will. It put the wind up me! Did I tell you the other man in the bay was dead! He was. That finished me new young man. He kep' trying to make himself smaller an' smaller against the trench-mortars. In the end of it, he laced his arrums round his ankles—he did—an' rocked to an' fro, whishperin' to the Saints. Shell-shock? Oh, yes, 'twas all that. Presintly I heard Mr. comin' the rounds, walking outside the trench. Ye see more where ye're outside a trench, but 'tis no place I'm fond of without orders. 'An' are ye all cozy down there, Sergeant?' says he. Yes, 'cosy' was his word! Knowin' him well, 'Why wud we not be cosy, Sorr?' says I, an' at that he dhrops into the bay to have a look. We was cosy enough, all three of us—the dead man dead an' stiffenin' in the frost, an' this fine new young lad of ours embracin' his own ankles an' rockin' back an' forth, an' me so sorry my leave was up. Oh! we was the cosiest party in the whole dam' front line that night; and for to make it all the cosier, my new young man, as soon as he set eyes on Mr. , he flung his arrums around his neck, an' he let out a yell, an' he hugged him like a gurrl. I had to separate 'em! I've laughed at it since, an' so did Mr. an', begad, I remember laughin' at it at the time. Ay, 'cosy,' Mr. said. That was the word! So I laughed. Otherwise there was not much laughin', ye'll understand, at Gouzeaucourt an' them 'cosy' trenches before Gonnelieu."
