Summary

James R. Driscoll The Brighton Boys in the Trenches

Herbert guessed it was some kind of a linnet and wished that he might calmly arise without a sense of danger and go to spy on the singer. A plucky, little feathered adventurer it must be, indeed, to boldly invade this area of killing and to give such small heed to the deafening boom of great cannon and the frequent crackle of rifles and machine guns.
McGuire it was who crept on hands and knees or advanced in a stooping posture, according to the depth of the sheltering stones or bushes between himself and the enemy, and when within speaking distance of Herbert, began a desultory conversation.
Source: Gutenberg

James R. Driscoll The Brighton Boys in the Trenches

It came at them like a small typhoon of white and blue smoke, showing again the iridescent colors, the gray-black center of its spreading force, and this time there was no Susan Nipper to disperse the poisonous fumes with her fiery tongue lashes sent into their midst.
Herbert knew the awful danger that confronted them and he feared that his men, with only the lust of battle in their eyes, hardly comprehended it. He turned and dashed down the line.
"Your masks, men! Every man get on his gas mask! Keep your wits about you!
Source: Gutenberg

James R. Driscoll The Brighton Boys in the Trenches

But with all this ability to put a bullet just where he wanted it to go, the lad was unwilling to use his skill in taking the life of any creature. He would not kill even a hawk or a crow, though sometimes sorely tempted to try a shot at such birds on the wing. Once he sat on a log, with rifle across his knees, while a fox leaped on a fence not forty yards away and stood balancing and curious for half a minute.
"We've got no real right to kill these things," he said to Roy, who was always with him. "They've got as much right to live as we have and they were here before we were.
Source: Gutenberg

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