John awoke from long habit at 5:30 a.m. He made his way to the firing step and found the Captain.

"Good morning, Sir. Stand-to as usual?"

The Captain looked at him. "Let's live dangerously for once, John. We'll take a chance. One platoon only, just in case."

John routed out the unlucky platoon, and shepherded them complaining under their breath to take up their stand-to position on the firing step.

In his pocket was a letter from Marie. He much preferred its tone to her last.

My dearest Jean,

Please, please forgive me for that last letter. I was so heartsick over Maman's death, Papa, the loss of our home,, that I didn't know what I was saying. And I was wrong about your mother. Now that I know her better, I like her, and she has been very kind. I am so happy for her and the General.

Our home is to be rebuilt as soon as we can find labourers. Your mother and the General are helping us.

Please write me and let me know that you still love me, as I love you so much.

Marie

In the east, the sky was turning pink with the first rays of dawn. For once the only sound was the waking birds.

He was ready to start his reply. He took his pencil and pad, and began:

November 12, 1918

Dearest Marie