to do his work. He got into communication at once with the
trenches, gave us our new targets and we kept on with our work until
darkness prevented further registering that night, although the twilight
still prevailed.

"Stand down!" came the order. "Clean up guns and lay on S.O.S. lines for
the night," meaning to load the gun with a fuse shell timed for a
certain range, or to burst on percussion, just as the target requires,
safety catch down, sight set, range on range drum and the gun laid on a
predetermined point to be covered, in both cases being the front line
trench, although it might be a machine-gun emplacement, barbed-wire,
bombing post, crossroads or observation station. For a front-line trench
and an attack started by the enemy, the S.O.S. signal is passed from the
trench, either through the telephonist in the trenches, or by means of
colored star shells. Immediately upon receipt of this signal by our
S.O.S. sentry or the telephonist at the battery, we get the order
"S.O.S. stand to the battery," and in the space of four seconds from
the time we receive that order, our first shell must be exploded in the
German lines under pain of the severest penalty. If a man were taking a
wash, he would have to jump out of the water and get to the guns as
quickly as God and nature would permit him.

Before retiring for our billets, Mac and I decided that we might as well
get some more honey, as we felt that the bees had done about all that
they could to us and we were deserving of a little further reward for
what we had endured, and arming ourselves with smoke helmets, we made a
further sortie on the camp of our winged enemies. As fast as if I were
ramming home a shell, I lifted off the hive while Mac pulled out a
couple of combs swarming with bees. We thought we were making a good job
of it this time and getting away scot free, when suddenly I felt a stab
under my coat sleeve and almost at the same moment Mac had the same
experience and we broke into a run for the billet. By the time we got
there we were being stung frightfully on our bodies, as the bees had
made their way up under our shirt sleeves and we ripped off our coats
and shirts, fighting the common enemy at the same time. The boys in the
billet beat it outside while we "carried on."

After a vigorous battle we seemed to have the foe beaten into submission
and the fellows returned; then we had a feed of honey, hung up the
remainder on the wall and retired for th