ed up to that time. We had a few casualties;
Conlin was a great pal of mine, and I missed him the most. Some of our
boys were decorated; Conlin, our dead hero, won the D. C. M., and the
medal was sent to his people. Lieutenant MacIntyre was awarded the D.
S. O., and "Darky" Andrews, who had taken a leading part, also received
the D. C. M.

One of the prisoners captured was an under officer, and as he was
wounded he was taken to the nearest dressing-station; while his wound
was being looked after, an interpreter was talking to him, and the
German said triumphantly, "Well, you have brought me here, but you
cannot send me over to England." "Oh, indeed!--and why not?" asked the
interpreter. "Because Germany controls the water," said our prisoner
proudly. "No troops can be brought from England now." "Is that so?"
said our interpreter. "Well, sonny, you will find yourself in England
by this time tomorrow, however you get there," and he did.

Shortly after this we had several casualties in Platoon 10--two or
three were killed, and several wounded and got their "Blighty." Dyer
was caught by a sniper, and Tucker was hit in the leg by a machine gun
bullet. Quite a few had been wounded in the company and one or two
killed, but No. 10 was lucky--we got some reinforcements and to No. 10
came McMurchie, "Fat," and McKone. McMurchie was a little Irishman
about five feet tall with a great taste for rum and he didn't know what
fear meant. He had a twin brother in another company and they were
just like two peas in a pod; only his brother was quiet. Mac would go
and line up in his brother's company when rum was being issued and draw
his brother's issue, then come back to "C" company and get his own
ration, and then line up again and tell the Sergeant-Major that he had
given his issue to his brother. He was a proper little devil. One day
we were out on rest and Mac had been away all the day before, and this
day we were wondering where he had gone, when, lo and behold, into the
line of huts marched McMurchie leading a rooster with a piece of string
around its neck--he had swiped it off some Frenchwoman--whether he ever
took it back I don't know, perhaps the cooks could tell--Mac was pretty
friendly with the cooks. He was always getting into trouble when out
of the line, but when in the trenches he was worth a dozen men, not to
work, but his disregard for all danger made one's hair stand on end.
He would do everything one w