““Smoke cigars, do you?” asks my father in surprise and almost reprovingly. I look at him with a certain wonderment. “But of course,” I reply. “They were part of the ration out there. We got three or four every day. Will you have one?” He takes it, shaking his head meanwhile. “You used not to smoke at all, before.” “Oh, yes, before—” I say and cannot help smiling that he should make such a story out of it. There are a lot of things I used not to do before, that’s a fact. But up the line there one soon lost any difference before one’s elders. We were all alike there.””
