A

When one lies in a hole peering intently into die black, listening, smelling, hearing only the sound of one’s breathing, waiting, expecting, the stillness may become appalling, dead objects may rise slowly and live, the motionless may move, sounds of leaves stirred by the breeze may become the sneaking movements of human feet, a friend may be an enemy, an enemy a friend, until, unless controlled by toughness of mind, one’s imagination may become haunted by the unseen and the unheard