en mad.

More than ever, in this new warfare, is the problem serious. For days
the men suffer not only the enemy's guns but the roar of their own
batteries from behind them. They cannot always tell which side they
hear. Their tortured ears ache with listening. And when they charge
and capture an outpost it is not always certain that they will escape
their own guns. In one tragic instance that I know of this happened.

The route was by way of Poperinghe, with its narrow, crowded streets,
its fresh troops just arrived and waiting patiently, heavy packs
beside them, for orders. In Poperinghe are found all the troops of the
Allies: British, Belgian, French, Hindus, Cingalese, Algerians,
Moroccans. Its streets are a series of colourful pictures, of quaint
uniforms, of a babel of tongues, of that minor confusion that is order
on a great scale. The inevitable guns rumbled along with six horses
and three drivers: a lead driver, a centre driver and wheel driver.
Unlike the British guns, there are generally no gunners with the guns,
but only an officer or two. The gunners go ahead on foot. Lines of
hussars rode by, making their way slowly round a train of British
Red-Cross ambulances.

At Elverdingue I was to see the men in their billets. Elverdingue was
another Poperinghe--the same crowds of soldiers, the same confusion,
only perhaps more emphasised, for Elverdingue is very near the front,
between Poperinghe and Ypres and a little to the north, where the line
that curves out about Ypres bends back again.

More guns, more hussars. It was difficult to walk across the narrow
streets. We watched our chance and broke through at last, going into a
house at random. As each house had soldiers billeted in it, it was
certain we would find some, and I was to see not selected quarters but
billets chosen at random. Through a narrow, whitewashed centre hall,
with men in the rooms on either side, and through a muddy kitchen,
where the usual family was huddled round a stove, we went into a tiny,
brick-paved yard. Here was a shed, a roof only, which still held what
remained of the winter's supply of coal.

Two soldiers were cooking there. Their tiny fire of sticks was built
against a brick wall, and on it was a large can of stewing meat. One
of the cooks--they were company cooks--was watching the kettle and
paring potatoes in a basket. The other was reading a letter aloud. As
the officers entered the men rose and saluted, their bright eyes