It was during the nerve racking period of waiting for the signal to attack that a seasoned old sergeant noticed a young soldier fresh from home visibly affected by the nearness of the coming fight. His face was pale, his teeth chattered, and his knees tried to touch each other. It was sheer nervousness, but the sergeant thought it was sheer funk.

“Tompkins,” he said, “is it trembling you are for your skin?”

“No, no, sergeant,” said he, making a brave attempt to still his limbs. “I’m trembling for the Germans—they don’t know I’m here.”