ook other respectable citizens in the face.

In this haven of rest and retirement we luxuriated for two weeks, then
moved into action on the Lens-Arras road. We placed our guns on the side
of the road, digging our trails in the edge of the cobble stone pavement
as a trail block, to hold the guns steady when firing. Chicken wire on
top, covered with grass and brushwood, completed the scenic protection.

Our work was the well-known ruse of a night raid in preparation for the
attack on Vimy Ridge, and carried out for the purpose of keeping the
Germans guessing as to where the next drive would be driven.

Leaving four men and the telephonist with the guns that night, we went
to Anges, half a mile from the gun position, to our billets; this was an
old French chateau, and comfortable beyond expression. As the foes of
our anatomies had again attacked in mass formation, this time we were
annoyed to a degree. Procuring creolin, we rubbed it on our bodies pure;
it should have been adulterated. During the night the natural
perspiration of our bodies caused the vermin grease to work through
the pores, and excessive stinging and smarting was the outcome. One
fellow awoke with a grunt of impatience and then a snort of anger, as a
sense of the stinging brought him to a realization of his discomfort;
then another, and another, until the entire bunch was in a fine frenzy,
fanning our bodies and running into the night air for relief. My carcass
was on fire and I wished to heaven I had left the lice alone; they could
not at least have prevented my sleeping. I determined for the future, as
against this cure, I would keep the curse. I felt as if I were suffering
from a severe sunburn over every inch of my body.

[Illustration: A First Line Hospital]

In the midst of our misery "Stand to!" was sounded, necessitating the
dropping of all our skin troubles and skedaddling to get to the guns. We
ran across an open field that had been converted into a graveyard after
the French drove the Germans over on to Vimy Ridge, but there was no
thought of sacrilege in our minds as we raced pell-mell over the
grave-filled land; there never is but one thought in our minds; we are,
every man of us, souls with but a single thought when "Stand to!"
sounds. We reached the guns practically in the nude, and fastening the
sights and scratching my hide at the same time kept me fairly busy.

We worked the guns for an hour; then "Ammunition up!" was the order for