paragon's conduct sheet.

However, these are mere details. The great joy of being in reserve
billets is the ability to go, after parades, of course, into the nearest
town and spend the 125 francs that the paymaster exchanges once a month
for a Bank of Montreal cheque. The private soldier, receiving a meagre
30 francs a month, has to content himself with simpler joys than
champagne (vintage 1914) and hand-made lace. Instead he partakes of
French beer at three sous a glass, and his friends overseas receive
hand-embroidered postcards of brilliant but patriotic designs worked by
the crippled children of Paris.

The greater part of the soldiers' money, however, is spent on
food--dainties such as oatmeal, sardines, canned fruit, and so
forth--and little shops close to the firing line welcome the
twice-monthly visit of the paymaster.

Bethune, the town outside of which we were at this time billeted, was
quite the gayest place we had visited since leaving Poperinghe.

"Business as usual" was its motto, in spite of the almost daily shelling
it received by light guns, said to have been mounted on an armoured
train.

This bombardment took place, as a rule, between 6 and 7 o'clock each
evening, but the damage done was very slight, only one soldier being
reported killed during our stay. There were civilians killed at various
times, but from a military point of view the shelling was absolutely
useless.

If, perchance, one was taking tea with Marie, or anyone else for that
matter, and the shelling started, it was quite the thing to seek the
shelter of the cellar and stay there "_en famille_" until the
bombardment was over, when you would emerge, Mademoiselle perhaps
pushing a loosened hairpin back in place, and continue to enjoy your
tea.

It was not everyone's fortune to have this happen, however.

The bank took a more serious view of the affair, and, having sandbagged
the cellar windows, posted notices stating that, in the event of
shelling, customers could continue business in the cellar. And this was
in a nation that we have always looked upon as effeminate and excitable!

Under these pleasant circumstances, plus a little setting-up drill and
"physical jerks," we passed a very pleasant fortnight before going into
the trenches again--this time at Givenchy.

CHAPTER XVI

GIVENCHY, 1915

It was now the turn of the 1st Brigade to emulate the gallant deeds of
the 2nd and 3rd Brigades at Ypres and Festubert, and