Sad news this evening. Only twenty-five per cent. of each company is to be allowed to go home to-morrow, because of the disorder and general trouble at the railroad terminal last Sunday. And the twenty-five per cent. is to be drawn out of a hat. No chance for Fat or me, that’s certain. We’re mighty unlucky when it comes to passes and we are laying odds now that neither of us will get permission to go to the city. Anyhow, Fat is still in the same predicament. If he does get a pass he won’t be able to leave the camp.

At the present writing we are all waiting for the mess call. And immediately after mess the Sergeant will do the drawing of the names for the passes. If I am not among the lucky ones I’m going to try and—there goes the mess call!