arth bank, and partly sunk in the
very low embankment, only two or three feet above the fields,
on which the railway ran. They were roofed with boards covered
again with earth and sods, and behind each was a little door by
which one could crawl in. Inside, the floor was covered with a
bed of straw, and a bucket with holes in its sides and full of red-hot
coke did duty as a stove, while narrow loopholes served for ventilation
and for light, and were to be used for firing from in the event of an
attack. Of course the huts were very cramped, but they were at
least warm, they gave protection from the weather, and above
all they were safe. The men only occupied them as a matter of
fact for short periods of one or two days at a time, a fresh guard
coming out from Fumes to take their places.

These huts, and all covered trenches, are only safe from
shrapnel exploding in the air or near by. No ordinary trench is
safe from a shell falling upon it; but this, as a matter of fact, has
scarcely ever happened. For shells are as a rule fired from
some considerable distance, and in most cases the opposing
lines of trenches are so close together that there would be great
danger of sending a shell into the back of your own trench, the
most deadly disaster that can happen. The trenches are often
so close together that their occupants can talk to one another,
and a considerable amount of camaraderie may spring up.

I know of one instance where a private arrangement was made
that they would not shoot on either side. One day a man on our
side was wounded, and there was great annoyance till a note
was thrown across apologizing profusely, and explaining that it
was done by a man in a trench behind who did not know of the
compact! A few days later a message came to say that an
important officer was coming to inspect the German trench, and
that they would be obliged to fire, but that they would give due
warning by three shots fired in quick succession. The shots
were fired, and our men lay low, under a storm of bullets, till
firing ceased, and another message arrived to say that the
danger was past. We really are queer animals!

Behind the trenches at Pervyse the fields were positively riddled
with shot-holes. In one space, not more than twenty yards
square, we counted the marks of over a hundred shells. The
railway station was like a sieve, and most of the houses in the
little town were absolutely destroyed. I do not believe that there
wa