But the features were much stronger.
The six months had been in effect six years.

The boy of Dresden had become the man of the trenches.
He finished, rubbed his hand over his face to satisfy himself that the last trace of young beard and mustache was gone, put away his shaving materials in a little niche that he had dug with his own hands in the wall of the trench, and turned to the Englishman.
"Am I all right, Carstairs ?" he asked.
"You do very well.

There's mud on your boots, but I suppose you can't help it.

The melting snow in our trench makes soggy footing in spite of all we can do.

But you're trim, Scott.