The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1918-10-21
COMMISSIONS
 OF A COWARD''
(Continued from Page 5.l

Sometimes we meet them when they are relieved. Then they look like or dinary people, who do not see any thing unusual in what they are doing. When we talk to them, it seems that we also look upon 1t as the ordinary thing; that we are only little curi- ous. But as far as am concerned, know that I feel it all very different ly. Before long our turn for the trenches will come. Most of the feI- lows are wishing for the time to come. At least that is what they say. am fearing it. 1 am in earnest when l say to myself that my life is of little value, even to myself
 Sorry He Inlisted
 S--, Jan. 30th, 1915.
 I had to stop yesterday. In front of us fight was developing; the or der to move forward was expected at any moment. We were ordered to fall in, were allowed to sit or to lie down, and then we had to wait for five endless hours.
 The German fire seemed to be com ing nearer. The incessant explos- ions made us excited and nervous. We were impatient to be allowed to par tictpate in some way or other But we had to wait, wait endlessly. The idleness irritated me to such an ex- tent that feared I was going mad. wanted to get shot, to get relief from this enervating suspense and from my bursting headache. After some time reaction set in. I became in different, only half-conscious. It is all over now, thank God!
 Yesterday evening transports of wounded soldiers came past us re- peatedly. Hearing the wailing and the grooming, seeing all the bloodi- | ness, made me sick. I had better not write about this. While in the midst Of the danger I had not been afraid; then, however the fear of the Front suddenly overlook me again. I Vio- 1 lently reproached myself for having l been so stupid as to enlist. There I was in the midst of this insane murder! And by my own free will!
 Free will? At least, that is what we call it.
 Coward Again. l D., Feb. Fist, 1918 1 Dear F--,
 And now we are at the Front. i have already spent more than tw7 weeks in the trenches. Yesterday we were given eight days leave. went with a comrade whose parents live here in D--. The dear boz 1 has become very much attached tc pe He believes that am strong support for him! Must I weep at this or laugh?
 Gaston has told me in great conf dence that he gets occasional attacks of cowardice. And he asked me whether I did not despise him. H. is terribly afraid that the fellows vii notce it. but he did not mind confid ing in me. Why in me? He say! i5 Is because he adnires my imper tarbable calmness so much. Wha could I reply? It seemed best not tt tell him how things stood with me Apart from the difficulties such . confession would cause me, I con cluded that it would also be better fo him to believe in my courage.
 A little while ago I suddenly re membered the awe and admiration | with which, m Par1S and III - and even after that, I thought of tn troops who were fighting in tn trenches. Now I am there myself And as I myself have probably be come a hero in the eyes of others. Where Death is Not Feared. } A hero! But there are real heroe and make-believe heroes, and they ar not always easily distinguishable. do not hide from myself that I be I long to the make-believes. And ye
 it Is remarkable that I did not fin
 the second week at the Front as ter
 rible as the first. It is not as ba , 2s 1t seems.
 l When once you get accustomed t 3 the idea that you may be dead in
 day, or in an hour, or in a minute