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[Page 207]

30 Oct, 1916
Hill 70
Slowly pass the days, each like its mate. lifeless things. The nights are different change less enough, but theres a feeling about that takes them out of the common place. The boys group in tents & mess rooms, over cups of coaco at the Y.M. or a bottle of beer from the Wet Canteen & talk of all manner of things; they are more cheerful, not such a feeling of bally endlessness about it all as there is of the day. A bright cresent moon is floating quietly above the western horizon & the clouds about it are streaked with silver while a faint rosiness of the after glow still lingers, the stars are brighter than diamonds & the sky looks like black velvet, the crickets are chiruping & the boys laughing. At the table at the end of the mess, the boys are playing cards & there is a clink of money as it changes hands & the flip flop of the cards as they are dealt round; some curses & a laugh. Some one out side, is whistling Every bodys doing it & a horse blows its nose.

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