To change the subject: Many of our men will, doubtless, be comforted
to know that in one respect Flanders is like Ireland--there are no
snakes.

One of our guns on this line was in the upper story of an old brewery
at Vierstraat, about seven hundred yards from my position, and we
occasionally exchanged visits. One day, I was down there talking with
the boys when a five-inch (sixty pounder) shrapnel shell burst in
front of the building, the case coming right on through, into the room
where we were. It "scooted," glanced, ricochetted, or whatever you
want to call it, all around that room and you never saw such a
scampering to get out. It finally stopped, however, and one of the
boys dragged it out into the light for an examination. On the side it
was branded "BEARDMORE, SCOTLAND." Now, how do you suppose Heinie got
that?

CHAPTER VI

OUR OWN CHEERFUL FASHION

On October twelfth there was a general attack along our front, to try
out some new "smoke bombs" and shells. It was the first time the smoke
barrage was used. We took our guns down about half-way to the front
line and set them up in hedge-rows and other places where we could
sweep the front in case the enemy made a counter-attack and got into
our lines. However, we were not needed, so remained spectators of
about as pretty a show as I have ever seen. At a given signal, every
gun behind our lines dropped smoke shells in a continuous row along
the line, just in front of the enemy's parapet. As each shell struck,
it burst, sending out great streamers of white smoke that soon became
a dense wall through which no one could see. Under cover of this, our
bombers advanced, threw hand grenades into the enemy trenches and then
retired. No attempt was made to take any part of the line; it was
more in the nature of a try-out for the new shells and also for the
purpose of harassing the enemy.

Naturally, the boche, expecting a general attack, commenced to shell
everything in that part of the country and also opened up a heavy
machine-gun and rifle fire, a good deal of which came our way, but no
one was hit. On the way back to the barn, Bouchard and I were walking
side by side, perhaps three or four feet apart, when a "whizz-bang"
came right between us and struck the ground not more than ten feet in
front. In nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand that
would have spelled our finish, but the shell struck on the edge of a
little hump, at the side of