As Told by Yank THE FUSILIER GIANTS UNDER FIRE "Come on, Yank, give us that baseball story you promised," pleaded Dick. "All right. Here goes," answered Yank. "We were sitting on the firestep. It was bright and sunny and we were bubbling over with good humor. There were two reasons for this: First, our Battalion was to be relieved at nine that night and we were going back for a two weeks' rest. Second, it was spring. We could smell it in the air. Even the wind blowing from the German trenches in our direction had a sweet and 'springy' smell. "About thirty yards down a communication trench 'to the left' was an orchard. The trees were scarred from bullets and fragments of shell; but even these battered trunks could not resist the feel of spring, for here and there on the twigs and branches could be seen bursting buds. Flitting around were numerous birds, chirping or sometimes wrangling among themselves. "It seemed odd that birds could accustom themselves to war. Occasionally a German shell, or perhaps one of ours, would go screaming over the orchard. The birds did not seem to mind the noise,--just carried on with their nest building. "In our company was another American, called 'Alex,'--his last name doesn't matter. Naturally, we were very chummy. Alex and I were the chief 'Amusement Promoters' in the company, the Tommies constantly looking to us for some new diversion. "You know you Tommies seem to have the idea that an American's chief vocation in the United States is to invent, and keep on inventing. Well, this bunch was just like the rest, had the same idea. Of course, Alex and I did not in any way try to dissipate their idea; in fact we encouraged it, and took great pride in being looked up to in this way; but, believe me, it kept us hustling to keep them amused. "It was getting too warm for soccer football, and we knew as soon as we got into rest billets that the issue would be put right up to us, 'How are you going to amuse us while we are behind the lines?' "We were Americans, and red-blooded; spring was in the air, and our thoughts turned to what every American boy is thinking of upon the arrival of spring--baseball. "I turned my eyes to the muddy parados of the trench, and fixed my gaze on a fragment of German shell imbedded in the mud. Pretty soon this fragment changed into a baseball player, with mask, protector and catcher's mitt. He was crouching behind the home-plate and signaling to the pitcher. Just then Alex said, 'Say, Yank, I wonder if we could teach the Tommies how to play baseball.' "I immediately turned in his direction. He was also staring at that fragment of shell. "I answered: 'Did you ever try to teach a Chinaman how to speak French?' "He got it right away. A dejected look spread over his countenance, and he let out a long-drawn sigh. "A Tommy sitting on my right butted in with: 'Did you sye byse-ball, Yank? Why, I saw a gyme in London. It's absurdly easy to plye, but I cawn't sye I fawncy h'it.'