aid of our field glasses we could occasionally even get a glimpse of
their faces and recognize their features. We stayed four days
opposite each other, neither side gaining a foot of ground.

It was there and then that I made a curious observation. After the
second day we had almost grown to know each other. The Russians would
laughingly call over to us, and the Austrians would answer. The
salient feature of these three days' fighting was the extraordinary
lack of hatred. In fact, it is astonishing how little actual hatred
exists between fighting men. One fights fiercely and passionately,
mass against mass, but as soon as the mass crystallizes itself into
human individuals whose features one actually can recognize, hatred
almost ceases. Of course, fighting continues, but somehow it loses
its fierceness and takes more the form of a sport, each side being
eager to get the best of the other. One still shoots at his opponent,
but almost regrets when he sees him drop.

By the morning of the third day we knew nearly every member of the
opposing trench, the favorite of my men being a giant red-bearded
Russian whose constant pastime consisted in jumping like a
Jack-in-the-box from the trench, crying over to us as he did so. He
was frequently shot at, but never hit. Then he grew bolder, showing
himself longer and longer, until finally he jumped out of the trench
altogether, shouting to us wildly and waving his cap. His
good-humored jollity and bravado appealed to our boys and none of them
attempted to shoot at him while he presented such a splendid target.
Finally one of our men, who did not want to be second in bravery,
jumped out of the trench and presented himself in the full sunlight.
Not one attempt was made to shoot at him either, and these two men
began to gesticulate at each other, inviting each other to come