“Sure, we all thought the same thing when we came up the first time. Looked for signposts sayin’, ‘This is the front,’ or a bunch of Germans tryin’ to get us. Just like that No-Man’s-Land stuff. I’d heard so much about that place before comin’ to France that I thought it would be as easy to find as a piece of choice real estate. Kinda expected that it would be a square field, or somethin’ like that, between two story-book trenches. First No Man’s Land I ran into was in the middle of a village. Graveyard and church made most of it. The front’s built on the same idea.” Jimmy selected a spot near the third piece and arranged a place for himself and O. D. Before O. D. fell asleep he mentioned that he wanted to write some letters to his mother and Mary. At the sound of Mary’s name Jimmy instinctively ran his hand over his breast pocket to see if the picture was still there. It was. “You can write to-morrow, O. D.” “I can?” said O. D. “I thought it would be pretty hard to get a chance to write at the front.” “That’s what most of the guys spend their time doin’ when there ain’t no firin’ or work,” assured Jimmy. “Well, good night, old man.” “_Bon swoir_, O. D.” The mention of Mary made Jimmy forget about sleeping. Since the night that he had spent in the French house with O. D. he had been day-dreaming whenever the chance to do so came. He wondered if Mary was in love with somebody back in America or in France. That idea disquieted him a great deal, but judging from O. D.’s conversations, he felt at liberty to hope that her heart was still free. When he was sure that O. D. was sound asleep Jimmy lit a cigarette and took Mary’s picture out of his pocket. By drawing hard on the cigarette he caused a fire glow that was enough to enable him to catch glimpses of her face. “Gosh! She’s a pretty, slender somebody,” mused the Yank to himself. “Bet she’s as sweet as she looks. It’ll be great gettin’ letters from her. If I make this old _guerre_ I’m sure goin’ to know Mary O. D. But I’m a nut. What business have I got thinkin’ that she’ll even look at a bum like me? I’d disgrace her most likely in public, ’specially at a dinnertable, as I’d forget and use the old knife. Got to put the brakes on this cussin’ stuff, too. I can imagine her if I said ‘damn’ in front of her. I’d be _fineed toot sweet_.” Jimmy put the picture away and puffed on while his dreams mingled with his blue cigarette smoke. CHAPTER XV—PINCHING OFF THE ST. MIHIEL SALIENT By noon of the next day Battery C’s guns had all been securely emplaced. O. D. wrote three letters in the morning, all of which centered around Jimmy McGee and the front. In his letter to Mary he said, in part: You’ll love Jimmy, he’s so big and kind. If he ever got all cleaned and dressed he’d sure be handsome, but the boys don’t have time for that kind of life up here.