All this time the fighting around us was fiercely waged. The Vimy Ridge was even then noted as being one of the "hottest" parts of the line, and the mining activity all along these sectors, especially where the trenches were very close together, was much in evidence.

The tunnelling company who were on our immediate left had a very arduous time. One night they lost every single man then on duty in the front lines, all being captured. This happened at a time when the Boche raided their trenches in force and caught them below ground. Whenever the Germans made a raid in any large numbers it went hard with our fellows, because the number of infantry holding the advance posts were reduced to a minimum. However, our boys knew pretty well how to take care of themselves, and to put up as good a fight as the infantry. Well they might, since they had been recruited from the infantry to organize our tunnelling companies. Nearly fifty of our men had been in active service since Mons in 1914, and most of the others had been "over the top" on numerous occasions with their old infantry battalions. In addition many were old regular soldiers of long service in India and elsewhere. Nearly all of them had been wounded several times and looked with more or less scorn on the fellows who at the front wore the gold stripe for wounds. They were a tough crowd, no doubt, but certainly some of the finest fellows under the sun, and they would follow their officers through hell itself. Back in our rest-billets we had our troubles with them, but never anything serious. As long as I live I'll take off my hat to those lads of the 181st R.E.

Our advanced billet at Aux-Rietz was not exactly a health resort. Our own artillery was scattered all around, and we came in for a lot of enemy fire directed evidently at counter-battery positions. Our men in the large cavern were all right as long as they stayed below, but you can't keep men below all the time, so we had our share of hits. In our officers' dugout we were fairly safe, too; that is, it was proof against everything but direct hits with heavy shells. Though they plastered the ground all round us, fortunately none landed directly on it—much to our satisfaction. Fritz bombarded us often with lachrymatory shells, the tear-inducing variety, and this was most unpleasant, but nothing more. Later we had our share of gas-shells containing hydrocyanic acid and other gases.

Opposite our cavern at the crossroads was the ruin of an old estaminet which had been used for storing an immense quantity of French bombs, and the latter had never been removed. As this crossroad was a favorite target for the Hun we would often speculate on the size of the crater it would make when hit.

In the spring of 1916 we received the glad news of the Russians having captured 100,000 of the enemy on the eastern front. Hope springs eternal, etc.—many of us thought that six months would finish things up, and were willing to bet on it.

A new division came up about this time to relieve our old friends of the Highland Division. It was the Sixtieth (London) Division, just arrived from England after a year's training there. Very interesting it was to us to compare this division with the last. They certainly made good. By this time, also, I fear that most of these lads have joined the others who are resting below the pitiful little wooden crosses so common in France.

At that time they exhibited all the common characteristics of new troops going into the trenches for the first time. Naturally enough they were jumpy at first, and well inclined to follow their first instructions of feeling out the enemy and not starting anything unless friend Heiny got busy first. This quiet state of affairs, however, did not really please them, and nobody was much surprised or grieved when their colonel, from the depths of a dugout in the support line, telephoned in evident exasperation to the various company officers: "For God's sake, let's get on with the war."

As we knew the trenches well, they would come to us often for advice and information. With regard to mining alarms, our orders were not to alarm the infantry or withdraw them from dangerous posts until absolutely necessary. Many questions were asked us as to the state of affairs below ground, but we were guarded in our replies. A couple of weeks later three of their Lewis gunners, occupying a rather isolated advanced post, were captured by a small enemy raiding-party. This naturally made them angry and they strafed the Hun fairly consistently for some time afterward. As time went on and they became more confident, they staged a number of very successful little raids, seldom returning without a prisoner.

Our first dugout was in a communication-trench called the Boyau Bentata, and about twenty yards from the junction of this trench with the firing-trench, here called the Doublemont Trench. This junction was evidently well known to the enemy, who pounded the spot regularly with T.M.'s. It is unfortunately necessary to keep sentries at points like this, and we took a certain morbid interest in noting the casualties at this place. They were many. I had to pass it a dozen times, at least, during the twenty-four hours, but always happened to be in a hurry. There are many undesirable places like this in the trenches. Warning and information as to their location is always a part of the programme when "trench reliefs" are carried out.

Some daring work is done at night by the various patrols in No Man's Land. No one without experience can understand how easy it is to lose oneself on these excursions. It is absolutely imperative to take one's bearings very carefully before moving far in No Man's Land. Many men wander into enemy trenches. Time and time again we have captured Germans who had become hopelessly lost at night, and who surrendered themselves in our trenches after having spent two or three very unpleasant days in shell-holes in No Man's Land. Our men, too, would occasionally disappear in the same mysterious way.

To a man in No Man's Land at night the enemy trenches and our own look very much alike. Star-shells are going up on both sides, and often there seems to be nothing to indicate which is which. As summer came on, the grass in No Man's Land grew very long, and some very daring scouting took place in the daytime, as well as at night. One man in the new division, an Argentine cattle-puncher, would tie a lot of long grass and brush around his body and then slowly crawl around in the daytime, crossing to the enemy trenches frequently. He would pack his bully and biscuits with him, carry a water-bottle, and be away sometimes for forty-eight hours at a time. He did some very good work and brought back useful information as to Hun machine-gun posts and other things, and by infinite care lived for two weeks in this way before he got a bullet through his lungs.

A battalion of the London Scottish were in this division, not all regular Scotchmen, but of Scotch descent. I recall very distinctly the first time I got a working-party of these fellows. They had to work on top of the trenches at night, bucking the sand-bags from our mines, emptying them into shell-holes, mine-craters, etc. I could not help but sympathize with them in the trenches at night for the first time, clad in their short kilts and slipping around in the mud and hard rain on the wet and slimy sand-bags, meantime dodging the machine-gun fire of the enemy. I think they have about nine yards of material in these kilts, and they seem to like wearing them, but I can't say I envied them.

As up in the Flanders trenches, we would often go to the infantry officers' dugouts to meals, especially if anything better than the usual army rations was to be had, and we were often invited to join the Jock officers at dinner in their company headquarters dugout. They had a strange habit of asking their pipers down to play for them at dinner, just as they do back at their camps. You can imagine how the bagpipes, played by a full-lunged Scot, would sound in a dugout thirty feet underground and about six by eight feet in size with five or six big Scotchmen filling the place. The piper was invariably rewarded with a tot of whiskey after his effort.

The arrival of mail was always eagerly anticipated, and we were seldom disappointed. The British Postal Service, which is under the direction of the Royal Engineers, was particularly efficient. In all the time I was at the front, our mail was seldom delayed. We received the London newspapers the day after issue, and the Continental Daily Mail the day of issue. My own mail from way off in California was received regularly almost every day, reaching me nearly always three weeks after mailing. My friends in California sent me a plum-pudding, candy, and other perishable stuff for the Christmas of 1916, and it arrived on time and in good condition. The number of parcels alone handled must have been enormous, many officers and men getting their supplies of tobacco, papers, magazines, and other good things regularly through the mail. It has reached such a point that I understand many officers now send their laundry back to England each week-end.

When our turn came around for a rest we would ride back to our camp at Berles. Here we used to have some mighty good times. A third of the officers would usually be out there, the H.Q. officers always, and there was not too much work to do. We would arrange football games for the men, get up matches with other units at rest; play cricket, fix up boxing tournaments, track events, and occasionally visit some of the villages near by. Here at B. we were clear away from any shelling, and got a thorough change. Only occasionally were we even visited by a bombing enemy plane. The summers are very pleasant in France, and we could sleep out-of-doors. Usually our back camps were much closer up, about three miles on an average, and we would be shelled occasionally, but there is nothing much to worry about in camps at this distance except at these odd times. The best billets are usually the fine old chÂteaux, nearly every village boasting one of these, but the corps and division staffs would usually secure them first.

Back in the rest-billets it was amusing to hear the average man's philosophy on war in general. We all agreed that in the next war, perhaps a decade or so in the future, we would all lean back in our comfortable Morris chairs at the club and patronisingly remark to any young fellow around who was planning to enlist, "Go to it, old man, you're sure a lucky man—only wish I was twenty years younger—I'd be with you," then leisurely pause to light a fresh cigar, order another drink, and continue to read with much inward satisfaction the newspaper man's optimistic account of the latest victories.

An amusing incident happened one night with a new mining officer who at the time was occupying one of our dugouts just behind the firing-line. It was at a time when the German miners were tunnelling all around us and we stood in doubt as to where some of their tunnels extended. One night he sent an S O S call that the Huns could be heard talking to the right of our dugout, estimating the distance at about ten feet. Our O.C., a game little chap, happened to be at the Savoy, our dugout at Aux-Rietz. Receiving this message about 2 in the morning, he hurried up to the scene and, after a very short investigation, discovered that the sounds of enemy mining were the result of one of our own infantry working-parties opening up a new trench just at the back of this dugout. When satisfied that it was not a practical joke and that the officer had been genuinely concerned, he dropped the matter and did not proceed with the court-martial which the rest of us feared would ensue.

Our O.C., Major C., a former regular officer in the British army, was always on hand when any interesting events were happening, and would turn out at any moment, day or night, to go up to the trenches and assist his officers. In other words, he was a "Regular Fellow," and very popular with his command.

Plenty of fighting in the air was going on all along the front, often two or three fights taking place at the same time. Much interest is taken in them, and we would watch to see them come down. When flying too low they would sometimes be hit by the "archies," or anti-aircraft guns. Sometimes their gasolene-tanks would be hit, and they would then burst into flames, turn over, and fall apparently helplessly for some distance, but in the majority of cases would even then make a safe landing. Other times the enemy planes would come low enough to let us get a shot at them with our rifles and Lewis guns, and we would blaze away, but seldom recorded a hit. All aviators, however, agree that they are not much disturbed by the archies, but strongly dislike machine-gun fire.

Before we left this sector we were inspected by no less a person than the Third Army commander. He shook hands very affably with all of our officers and expressed himself as highly delighted with our success in discouraging the Hun below ground. (By this time the enemy were only firing an average of about one mine a week under our sector of the trenches.) The commander was a very fine officer, but his speeches came with difficulty. At each of the frequent pauses in his address to the company he would turn around and grasp warmly the hand of any officer alongside him. This seemed to encourage him, and he would continue.

About the middle of July we were ordered down to the line opposite Foncquevillers and HÉbuterne. We gave up our comfortable quarters at B. with regret. Our work in the new trenches was to construct a number of galleries under No Man's Land, to be used in a coming offensive for ammunition-carriers and returned casualties. The infantry in these trenches opposite the famous Gommecourt Wood had been most unfortunate with the start of the Somme offensive on July 1. It was the most northerly end of the Big Push, the assault having taken place along the trenches all the way from Gommecourt Wood opposite here as far as PÉronne on the British front, the French carrying on to the south of this.

According to our information, one of the battalions of this division had gone over the top on July 1, and reached Gommecourt Wood, an almost impregnable position, but through some mistake had not received sufficient support from the division on their left, and had been obliged to withdraw, losing over fifty per cent of their number while doing so. Two other battalions went over near this sector at the same time and were never heard of again. The trees, or stumps of trees, in Gommecourt Wood were laced together so thickly with barbed wire that further bombardment from our artillery only seemed to make it a more impenetrable barrier than before.

Our forward billet was in Foncquevillers. It was badly shelled, but not as bad as our former quarters. It's all a matter of comparison. The pup-pup-pup of machine-gun fire at night echoing through the trees of this village sounded worse than it really was, but we nevertheless were forced to make a practice of hugging the walls pretty closely and keeping behind the street sand-bag breastworks which afforded some protection as we walked around. It was a common sight in walking down the streets of this village by day to see roofs falling in or walls crashing across the road when the building was hit by a shell. Our steel helmets were pretty useful again in preventing the falling tile from drilling holes in our heads. Every roof was broken and tiles fell like leaves. An infallible index of the extent of enemy shelling on the villages close up was to count the number of civilians still living there. The majority of them very close up were totally abandoned by their former residents, while a number of other villages, which came in for more or less intermittent fire, still claimed small numbers of their original population, nearly all women, and mighty plucky ones at that.

In F., as in all villages close up, notices instructed you to "walk on the left side of the road" and in other places to use the trenches everywhere intersecting the village.

Whenever the "heavies" wished to shell the enemy front line the infantry were ordered to withdraw from the front-line trenches. This is very necessary, particularly when the opposing trenches are close together. In the ordinary course of events many men are hit by fragments from our own shells. We used to derive considerable pleasure in watching this close up strafing from the support-line.

In the Vimy Ridge trenches whenever we had spotted what we suspected to be an enemy mining-shaft we would take counsel with the trench-mortar officer or gunners and have the location consistently pounded, meanwhile watching with delight many hits which resulted in throwing up blocks of timber, the latter usually denoting a direct hit.

On account of the difficulty of obtaining the right atmospheric conditions for a gas attack, we would often have a number of false gas alarms. The "gas merchants," as they are called by the British, would place their steel cylinders in the parapet front line and carefully conceal them with sand-bags until the proper wind and velocity were obtained. It was usual to withdraw every one from the front line with the exception of the Lewis gunners. The "gas merchants" had planned to put over a gas attack in the trenches opposite Gommecourt Wood and we had taken our men out several times when it had been found inadvisable to throw the gas over on account of the shift of wind or some other reason. On this occasion I had withdrawn my men from the front line, and an hour later, having learned that the gas attack was not to come off this time, had gone up to the front line again alone by a different communication-trench. In passing along the fire-trench I happened to ask a corporal of a gas crew whether the gas attack was called off for that night. One of their sergeants overheard my questioning the corporal, and, seeing a strange officer alone in the trenches, very properly followed me up for a distance. When I arrived at the scene of our work I found that my men had not returned. The sergeant's suspicions naturally grew, and as I started out again he informed me that I would be placed under arrest until I could identify myself. I told him we would walk around to the infantry commander's dugout and he would vouch for me. As it happened, I had met some of these infantry officers in the morning, but they had only come in that day and did not know us very well. On reporting to the company headquarters, the infantry captain informed me that he guessed it was all right, but that he was taking no chances. I had better accompany the sergeant back to battalion headquarters. These headquarters were at the entrance to F., the village behind, and as I was marched back, with the sergeant closely following, I picked up one of my Irish corporals at their billet in the village. The latter seemed highly amused at my arrest. On arriving at battalion headquarters I established my identity very quickly to the battalion adjutant, but made a mental decision I would be careful about going around the front lines alone in the future.