The mechanics started taking off usable parts from the wrecked airplanes, and four others of us appointed ourselves the official ditchdiggers of the day.  We were all afraid of being strafed if the Germans came over and saw men working around the planes, and we wanted a nice ditch handy for diving into.  The way to have a nice ditch is to dig one.  We wasted no time.

Would that all slit trenches could be dug in soil like that.  The sand was soft and moist; just the kind children like to play in.  The four of us dug a winding ditch forty feet long and three feet deep in about an hour and a half.

The day got hot, and we took off our shirts.  One sweating soldier said, “Five years ago you couldn’t have got me to dig a ditch for five dollars an hour.  Now look at me.  You can’t stop me from digging ditches.  I don’t even want pay for it; I just dig for love.  And I sure do hope this digging today is all wasted effort, I never wanted to do useless work so bad in my life.  Any time I get fifty feet from my home ditch you’ll find me digging a new ditch and, brother, I ain’t joking.  I love to dig ditches.”

Digging out there in the soft desert sand was paradise compared to the claylike digging back at our base.  The ditch went forward like a prairie fire.  We measured it with our eyes to see if it would hold everybody.  “Throw up some more right here,” one of the boys said, indicating a low spot in the bank on either side.  “Do you think we’ve got it deep enough?”

“It doesn’t have to be so deep,” another said.  “A bullet won’t go through more than three inches of sand.  Sand is the best thing there is for stopping bullets.”

A growth of sagebrush hung over the ditch on one side.  “Let’s leave it right there,” one of the boys said.  “It’s good for the imagination.  Makes you think you’re covered up even when you’re not.”

That was the new outlook, the new type of conversation, among thousands of American boys.  It’s hard for a civilian to realize, but there were certain moments when a plain old ditch could be dearer than any possession on earth.  For all bombs, no matter where they may land eventually, do all of their falling right straight for a guy’s head.  Only those of you who know about that can ever know all about ditches.