An hour from the time of entering the trenches, the Khaki Boys had reached the front line of their sector, and had taken up their positions. Sadly in need of a little rest, the majority of the men seated themselves on the fire step. In the darkness a long line of American soldiers filed past them, on the way to another communication trench that would lead them away from the firing and back to billets behind the lines. These were the men whom the Khaki Boys had come to relieve. In the front-line trench, however, a goodly number of veteran Americans still remained to receive the new men and initiate them into the mysteries of trench warfare. Trying to catch satisfactory glimpses of the shadowy figures which flitted past him in a long succession, Jimmy Blaise speculated as to how long they had been on duty. He was amazed at the number still alive and apparently unscathed. Remembering that, thus far, all night the guns had been silent, he decided that this was the reason why so many Sammies were left to return briefly to billets. He wondered if as many more were still left in the trench. His thoughts turning to his bunkies, he wondered what they thought of it all. A corporal in his platoon, he knew that Bob, at least, was not far away. In the dense darkness, however, there was a small chance of locating him. He wondered, too, what time it was. It had been almost midnight when the marching men had been halted in the ruined village by the English major. It must be after two now. Perhaps the Germans would attack just before dawn. He had heard that with both sides this was a favorite hour for attack. At that hour, a man's faculties were the least alert. He was less likely to give good account of himself. Although he was anything but at home in his new environment, Jimmy was relieved in that he felt not in the least afraid. He had always hoped that it would be thus. Yet he had never been quite sure of himself on that point. He had always known that he should never be afraid in the cowardly sense of the word. Still, he had often pondered as to whether he would "have all his nerve with him" when the eventful front-line hour arrived. He was rather surprised to find himself as "nervy" as ever. He almost wished that something would happen to break the deadly monotony around him. Most of all he wished for daylight to come, so that he might take stock of his surroundings and perhaps "bump into" his bunkies. The night wore on and nothing happened. With dawn came the order "stand down," and the two veteran sentries posted at each traverse along the line got down off the fire step. To them had fallen the task of standing there all night, heads above the top of the trench, eyes straining into the darkness of "No Man's Land."