They say the Austrians are fearfully strong just here and of course our ammunition is climbing down to less than nothing--looks as though we were going to have a hot time soon.

I turned in and helped Krylov all the morning and somehow his fat, ugly face, his little exclamations, his explosive comical rages, his sudden rough kindnesses did one a world of good.

We filled the wagons and sent them back, then about midday, under a blazing hot sun, we went on with the others.

Is there any place in the globe hot and suffocating quite as this Forest is?
Even in the open spaces one can't breathe and there's never any proper shade under the trees.

At first we were at a loss, No one seemed quite to know where the Vengrovsky Polk were.