een struck by the falling _debris_, and manned our trench
while machine-guns raked the enemy's parapets.

However, he showed no inclination to man the crater--a yawning pit some
forty feet in width half-way over to his trench--and contented himself
with throwing a few bombs into it and covering it with machine-gun
fire. In spite of which Begbie Lyte, having now risen to the dizzy
height of senior subaltern in the company, took out a small party and
filled it with barbed wire.

The affair was only briefly mentioned in the _communiques_: "On the 22nd
a mine was exploded under a German gallery on our front. An enemy mining
party is believed to have been blown up."

The mining officer was greatly pleased, however, as only some few yards
of his own gallery had suffered.

CHAPTER XXI

MYTHS, FAIRIES, ETC.

In every position you take over there are a certain number of myths
which when you go out you carefully repeat to the incoming battalion;
and the tale seldom loses in the telling. These are handed down to
posterity in naming new field-works; hence the frequency of "Suicide
Alley," "Sniper's Cross-roads," "Dead Man's Corner," &c, &c.

Some of these myths are worth repeating--all are worth noting, for they
are in most cases founded on possibilities.

The most popular myth or fairy on the Messines front was undoubtedly the
"Mad Major." This individual was supposed to be an artillery officer who
spotted for his own battery--which incidentally always did the most
marvellous shooting--from an aeroplane, in which he performed the most
daring feats while dodging the "Archibalds" or anti-aircraft shells.

Whether there was any truth in this myth we never found out, but we did
see an enemy aeroplane forced down behind our lines by Robert Lorraine,
the actor aviator, on October 26th, after a very daring fight.

A large enemy aeroplane of the "Albatross" type had been making a
reconnaissance somewhere northward in the Ypres salient with unusual
boldness when Lorraine sighted the machine and gave chase. Instead of
turning directly back to his own lines the German flew along the line of
our trench at such a tempting range that machine-guns all along our line
started to cough and spit in the air in an effort to wing him.

Meanwhile our own aeroplane was getting within range, and a pretty duel
in mid-air commenced, the two machines circling and swooping like a pair
of immense white gulls, while the "tut-tut" of their ma