Our French officer was understood to say that it was the latter. Peter Beaudett, during the firing, had been struck by a small piece of spent shell, which knocked him over while barely breaking the skin of his jaws. He “rustled” as Shaw declared “like a hen with its head cut off;” then, finding that he was not killed, though two of his teeth had been knocked out, he angrily shook his fist towards the enemy, crying out: “Py tam! I no like your doctor pulls my teeth; I fight you now, by tam!” We had got our lesson, that two can play at a dangerous game; and after this the opposing lines settled down for a while, to comparative peace and quiet. Such was our introduction to trench warfare, on the front line, which finally grew in intensity and became exciting and dangerous enough to satisfy the most enterprising Yankee. Even this first experience, however, had convinced us that there were worse discomforts than rain, snow, or mud. Shortly after this, it was my duty to take a turn with a squad on the listening post. I had with me a young German-American named Kepler, whose father had been a soldier with my father during the Civil War, and whose loyalty and patriotism were unquestioned. He was quiet, phlegmatic, and resolute; absolutely to be depended upon, and, better still, spoke and understood the German language. Silently creeping through the excavation leading under our barbed wire barricade and, leading to the front of the German trenches, we reached our station. Here we listened for possible movements of the enemy, but all was quiet and we had, as Sam said, who was another of our party, “nothing to report, but a big lot of silence and chills.” A listening post, here let me explain, runs underground, in most cases, beneath the barbed wire barricade which protects the trench from sudden invasion, such as mining to blow up our trenches; and sometimes conversation and orders could be heard, which gave valuable information. Of course the Germans, on their part, also had listening posts constantly near us whose whereabouts were, however, not known, though sometimes guessed at. The duties of those on listening posts had not only a spice of danger, but an appeal to the natural curiosity of a New Englander. Therefore, with all its “cramped-up-itiveness,” as Sam called it, it was not without its fascination for our boys. When, after a tour of four days’ duty on the front-line trench, we were relieved and marched to our rest billets in the rear, we found it more than agreeable. As Sutherland stood up at his full six-foot height, he said, looking around and taking a full breath, “Say, isn’t this a big country!” “Shure,” agreed Pat, “ye’s can get a white man’s braith and niver a fear of getting a bullet to vintelite your head, or a piece of shell to knock out your dintistry.” At which Peter Beaudett rubbed his jaw and ejaculated, “Ugh!”