ule England. Their spirit and their
thinking will fashion the new trend of civilization, and the men who
have not fought will bear the worst scars from the war.

Ridiculous it is that men should be moles, perhaps; but at the same
time there is something sublime in the fellowship of their courage and
purpose, as they "sit and take it," or guard against attacks, without
the passion of battle of the old days of excited charges and quick
results, and watch the toll pass by from hour to hour. Borne by
comrades pick-a-back we saw the wounded carried along that
passage too narrow for a litter. A splash of blood, a white bandage, a
limp form!

For the second permissible--periscopes are tempting targets--I
looked through one over the top of the parapet. Another film! A big
British lyddite shell went crashing into the German parapet. The dust
from sandbags and dug-outs merged into an immense cloud of ugly,
black smoke. As the cloud rose, one saw the figure of a German dart
out of sight; then nothing was visible but the gap which the explosion
had made. No wise German would show himself. British snipers were
watching for him. At least half a dozen, perhaps a score, of men had
been put out by this single "direct hit" of an h.e. (high explosive). Yes,
the British gunners were shooting well, too. Other periscopic glimpses
proved it.

Through the periscope we learned also that the two lines of sandbags
of German and British trenches were drawing nearer together.
Another wounded man was brought by.

"They're bombing up ahead. He has just been hit." As we drew aside
to make room for him to pass, once more the civilian realized his
helplessness and unimportance. One soldier was worth ten Prime
Ministers in that place. We were as conspicuously mal a propos as an
outsider at a bank directors' meeting or in a football scrimmage. The
officer politely reminded us of the necessity of elbow room in the
narrow quarters for the bombers, who were hidden from view by the
zigzag traverses, and I was not sorry, though perhaps my
companions were. If so, they did not say so, not being talkative men.
We were not going to see the two hundred yards of captured trench
that were beyond the bombing action, after all. Oh, the twinkle in that
staff officer's eye!

"A Boche gas shell!" we were told, as we passed an informal
excavation in the communication trench on our way back.
"Asphyxiating effect. No time to put on respirators when one
explodes. Laid