bly well for quite a while. It was the first raid that had been made on that

up the "Very" lights on the slightest provocation and start the "typewrite

cause of a rapidly concentrated and heavy machine-gun fire, and in another, a day or two later,

itz was very meek. He sent over very few "minnies" or rifle

the little village of Bully-Grenay, less than three miles behind the lines. This is d

re a few houses left unhit and the town hall and several shops. The rest of the place was ruins, but about two hundred of the inhabitants still stuck to their old homes

that accounted for the Germans laying off, but whatever was the

t the quarters-oof! We were billeted in the cellars of the battered-down houses. They weren't shell-proof. That didn't matter much, as there wasn'

n an old ruin half full of rainwater. The dry places were piled up with brick and mortar

They would hop out of the walls and scuttle across your face with their wet, cold feet, and it was enough to drive you insane. One chap in our party had a natural

y mascots, although we had a kitten that we smuggled along for a long time. This terrier was a well-bred little fellow, and

ere who served the rotten French beer and vin blanc, and the Tommies tried their French on her. They might as well have talk

call, "don't be a blinkin' 'og

officer. After that I was ignored, to the huge delight of the Tommies, who joshed me unmercifully. They discovered

ought we spoke something like Italian, he said. I couldn't resist the temptation, and filled him up with a line of ghost stories about wild Indians just outside Boston. I told him I

little incredulous because I didn't

time, and was especially so with Fritz in his condition of jumpy nerves. You have to do most of the work lying on your back in t

later became my favorite game. I will

to the rear and came to the village of Petite-Saens. This town had been fought through, but fo

and the roof was tight and there were no rats. It was oriental luxury after Bully-Grenay and

nesome. One night as we sat in her kitchen drinking black coffee and cognac, I persuaded her to tell her story. It was, on the whole, rather a cruel thing to ask, I

at I have lost everything in this war. I do not care now, for I am old and it is for my country; but there is mu

husband, who worked in the mines. He was too old to fight, but when the great war came he tried to enlist

, he enlisted and said good

ar from this very house the beau-fils is wounded very

o go. The Boche come into the house, seize my daughter, and there

I try, but they hold my feet over the fire until the very

angs by the side of the German officer, and putting all his strength together he leaps forward and grabs the revolver.

ig officer. By and by come you English, and all is well for dear France once more; but I am very desolate now. I am

r than ever before. We all loved our little kiddie very much, and when we saw the evidence of the terrible cruelties the poor old woman had suffered we saw r

t, and he's as filthy as a pig all the time he is in the trenches, but he tries. He is a

o the side of a trench, with the bullets snapping overhead, a

emy. He's worse than the Hun. You can't get rid of him wherever you are, in the trenches or in billets, and he sticks closer than a brother. The cootie is a good deal of an acrobat. His policy of attack is to hang on to the shirt and to nibble at the occupant. Pull off the shirt and he comes with it. Henc

t is because misery loves company, or it may be that he likes to compare notes on the catch. Anyhow

"Look 'ere. Strike me bloomin' well pink but thi

e I showed ye 'fore we went into th

le farther away, behind the office

have so many of the beastly things after putting

s soon as anybody else. He finds his way into all branches of the service

like this one which was told from the North Sea to

ached down and captured the biter. Just as he stooped, a shell whizzed over where his head would ha

ve yer the Victoria Cros

he

only effective way for the soldier to get rid of his bosom friends. The various dopes and p