ne-gunner is a more or less accepted nuisance by this time.
He has his own emplacements in the line, but he never appears to use
them. Instead, he adopts the peculiar expedient of removing his weapon
from a snug and well-fortified position, and either taking it away
somewhere behind the trenches and firing salvoes over your head (which
is reprehensible), or planting it upon the parapet in your particular
preserve, and firing it from there (which is criminal). Machine-gun
fire always provokes retaliation.

"Why in thunder can't you keep your filthy tea-kettle in its own
place, instead of bringing it here to draw fire?" inquired Mr.
Cockerell, not altogether unreasonably, as Ayling and his satellites
passed along the trench bearing the offending weapon, with
water-jacket aboil, back to its official residence.

"It is all for your good, my little man," explained Ayling loftily.
"It would never do to give away one's real gun positions. If we did,
the Bosches would sit tight and say nothing at the time, but just make
a note of the occurrence. Then, one fine morning, when they _really_
meant business, they would begin by droping a Black Maria on top of
each emplacement; and where would you and your platoon be then, with
an attack coming on and _us_ out of action? So long!"

But the most unpopular man in the trenches is undoubtedly the Trench
Mortar Officer. His apparatus consists of what looks like a section
of rain-pipe, standing on legs. Upon its upturned muzzle is poised
a bomb, having the appearance of a plum-pudding on a stick. This he
discharges over the parapet into the German trenches, where it causes
a comforting explosion. He then walks rapidly away.

For obvious reasons, it is not advisable to fire a trench-mortar too
often--at any rate from the same place. But the whole weight of public
opinion in our trench is directed against it being fired from anywhere
at all. Behold the Trench Mortar Officer and his gang of pariahs
creeping stealthily along in the lee of the parados, just as dawn
breaks, in the section of trench occupied by No. 10 Platoon. For the
moment they are unheeded, for the platoon are "standing-to," and
the men are lined along the firing-step, with their backs to the
conspirators.

On reaching a suitable spot, the mortar party proceed to erect their
apparatus with as little ostentation as possible. But they are soon
discovered. The platoon subaltern hurries up.

"Awfully sorry, old man," he say