But even that was fixed up. They raked me out in the end a
lousebox big enough to hold my head. I've already some Boche
boots--those that were Caron's, you know. So, behold us setting off
in the Boche trenches--and they're most damnably like ours--with
these good sorts of Boche comrades, who told me in very good
French--same as I'm speaking--not to fret myself.
"There was no alarm, nothing. Getting there came off all right.
Everything went off so sweet and simple that I fancied I must be a
defaulting Boche. We got to Lens at nightfall. I remember we passed
in front of La Perche and went down the Rue du Quatorze-Juillet. I
saw some of the townsfolk walking about in the streets like they do
in our quarters. I didn't recognize them because of the evening, nor
them me, because of the evening too, and because of the seriousness
of things. It was so dark you couldn't put your finger into your eye
when I reached my folk's garden.
"My heart was going top speed. I was all trembling from head to foot
as if I were only a sort of heart myself. And I had to hold myself
back from carrying on aloud, and in French too, I was so happy and
upset. The Kamarad says to me, 'You go, pass once, then another
time, and look in at the door and the window. Don't look as if you
were looking. Be careful.' So I get hold of myself again, and
swallow my feelings all at a gulp. Not a bad sort, that devil,
seeing he'd have had a hell of a time if I'd got nailed.
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