sidency" at Aden on his way home, and he asked to come down
into our trenches, though he belongs to another division, as he wanted
the experience. His name is Backhouse, and his brother was Flag
Lieutenant to Admiral Jellicoe at the beginning of the war. We arrived
here very peacefully last night, cheered by news of the Russian
successes, and then I went my rounds from 3 o'clock till 7.30 in the
morning. I pointed out to some of my men that they were standing in a
dangerous place, but they said it was all right, and I heard an hour
after that three of them had been struck by one bullet. Later the
General came along to see about things, and I had to go round with
him. A shrapnel from our guns burst short and just missed a man I was
speaking to.... However, thank Heaven! we did not have any fired at
us. A curious thing happened the night before last. One of the British
patrols in my line saw a German at the wire entanglements in the
darkness, and fired. The German fell, calling out: "Don't shoot,
soldier." When they were able to get up to him they found that he had
laid his rifle and equipment down before he was seen, and either
wanted to surrender or, as he had some wire cutters with him, was
trying to cut the entanglement. Anyhow, poor fellow! he had had the
large artery of his leg cut, and was just at the point of death. We
buried him at the back of the ruin. Did you ever think how between the
devil and the deep sea the German soldier is? If he runs away, he is
shot; if he advances, he is generally shot; and if he tries to desert,
as in this case, he is shot too. A hard fate....

IN TRENCHES.
_February 11th, 1915._

Getting up at 3 a.m. is very trying, as it makes the day so long. I
curl up in my blankets at 9 p.m., and hope for the best, but very
often I am pulled out again. Last night, for instance, we had various
parties down here working during the night. About 8 o'clock I went to
look at the poor German's grave, and, coming away from it, I was
nearly hit by a bullet from some sniper who was evidently watching me.
I am just waiting to go to one of our own men's funeral. He was shot
yesterday, poor boy! and I was able to get his body out, so I am
trying to give all such, decent burial with a clergyman some distance
back from the trenches. I forgot to tell you when mentioning that
shrapnel shell yesterday that the man I was