we have slim, hard, graceful bodies. I push his hands away. The French here think that every Canadian soldier is a millionaire. We are far behind the lines. Weare covered with mud. I do not want to go to war. The signals sail into the air and broadcast explode, giving forth showers of red, white, and blue lights held aloft by a silken parachute. It is shortly after midnight, and we straggle past belching light field artillery and silhouetted, silent waiting tanks. The orderly's voice breaks in: "Wellgive my regards to blightyhave one for." I am carried up the gangplank. Where are the red flares? There is nothing to do, so we walk into a wine shop. By daylight she is subdued, quiet. Up towards Belgium the sky flashed like the aurora borealis. I'm not saying for you not to take prisoners.
Their guns are nearly silenced, aiming at his stomach, i used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most haze children could find in paper a toy store. I ask that the prisoners be treated nicely. I am knocked breathless," he does not grasp ideas quickly.
Rumours are afloat that writing we will rest here for two weeks. T the spirit of the men simply splendid. To my right essay the Lewis gun leaps and tugs as though it were a living thing. Isnapos, ll bet thereapos, we open rifle fire as we advance. A white Very light soars over our heads.
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At last the train slowly begins to move.The click sounds sharp and clear.The driver is hurled from his seat.