In the writing of this little book so many difficulties have arisen that, but for the repeated requests of a generous public for further news of the Midshipman whose earlier adventures are recorded in "From Dartmouth to the Dardanelles," we had been tempted to defer publication until the advent of that longed-for time which "Tommy" speaks of as "Good old aprÈs la guerre!"

Naval officers on active service are not allowed to keep diaries, and this narrative has been compiled solely from rough notes of conversations with my son, hurriedly set down on the rare occasions during the last two and a half years when we have had the good fortune to be together. Much of the material eventually available we have omitted from motives of discretion. Still more has been eliminated by drastic but absolutely necessary censorship. What remains makes but a slender volume. Nevertheless I trust it will prove not wholly uninteresting to all those unknown friends in England, Australia, India, New Zealand, and last, but by no means least, the United States of America, who have taken the trouble to write me such exceedingly kind letters in respect of the former book. Let me here gratefully assure them that their sympathy and the generous impulse which prompted its expression has done much to help me through years naturally heavy-laden with anxiety and suspense.

Thanks, above all, to my American correspondents: theirs was a difficult and delicate position in view of the loyalty they owed to their country's neutrality; but while yet certain issues were in doubt their letters seemed to whisper: "Only wait—trust us—we shall yet be with you in deed as we are with you in heart."

To-day that prophecy is gloriously fulfilled. Sacrifice and sacrament are consummated: the Stars and Stripes are unfurled in the cause of true liberty, and Old Glory waves side by side with the banners of the Allies! Who dares doubt the end?

A word of explanation as to the title of the book may be desired by readers unacquainted with naval slang. "Snotty" is a dreadful word of, I am sure, libellous origin! But it is pure navalese. "Middy" is not a Service term at all, and the curly-haired "Middy" so dear to writers of fiction and comic opera has no existence in fact—he is a regular "Mrs. Harris"!

For all their youth, our Snotties are men in the best sense of the word, and right loyally do they cling to every tradition—written or unwritten—of that splendid Service to which it is their pride and privilege to belong.

His Mother