I crawled into my blankets here at three o'clock this morning. They sent me out about ten last evening on a special call to Post Two. I had three runs down to Ville with some blessés from a German "coup de main" and this kept me going for some time. Fortunately there was a full moon or I would have had a terrible time in the woods.
I had just enough pep to get up for breakfast and then was sorry that I did afterwards. It was pouring in torrents outside and the old dining-room leaked like a sieve. There was nothing to do but put on our raincoats, and stand there in that deluge, trying to swallow a plate of half-cooked oatmeal. I am afraid that our meals will be below par for a few days. André, the cook, lucky fellow, has gone to Paris on his permission and one of the truck drivers has taken his place. His first meal wasn't much of a success.
At last Section Douze has a mascot. Henny Houston stopped at Jubécourt today on his way back from Ville and got a little mongrel pup from his old friend Abigal in the Epicerie there. It was
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