jutant of the Tenth Battalion Sherwood Foresters
came to me with this message which was sent through our lines:--

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Arrest Officer Royal Engineers with orderly. Former, six feet, black
moustache, web equipment, revolver. Latter, short, carries rifle, canvas
bandolier. Please warn transports and all concerned.

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Everybody kept a good lookout for these spies. One sentry surprised a real
R.E. officer named Perkins who was working out a drainage scheme. Seeming
to answer the above description, he stalked him,--"Come 'ere, you ----
----, you're the ---- I've been looking for." The officer, nonplussed,
commenced to stutter. "Sergeant, I've got 'im and he can't speak a word of
English." The sergeant collected him in and guarded him until another
engineer officer, known to the guard, came along. As soon as Perkins saw
him, he said, "F-r-r-ed, t-t-tell this d-d-damn fool wh-ho I am." "Who the
hell are you calling Fred? I don't know him; hold him, sergeant, he's a
desperate one." Scarcely able to contain his joy, Fred went back to the
Engineers' Camp to tell the great news and Perkins spent three hours in
the sandbag dugout listening to a description of what the sergeant and his
guard would do to him if they only had their way.

The real spies, who did a great deal of damage, were finally rounded up
and shot in a listening post trying to regain their own lines.

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Enemy snipers give us a great deal of trouble. It is very difficult to
locate them. One of our men tried out an original scheme. He put an empty
biscuit tin on the parapet. Immediately the sniper put a bullet through
it. Now thought the Genius, "If I look through the two holes it will give
me my direction,"--so getting up on the firestep he looked through, only to
roll over with the top of his head smashed off by a bullet. The sniper was
shooting his initials on the tin.

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We are all used to dead bodies or pieces of men, so much so that we are
not troubled by the sight of them. There was a right hand sticking out of
the trench in the position of a man trying to shake hands with you, and as
the men filed out they would often grip it and say, "So long, old top,
we'll be back again soon." One man had the misfortune to be buried in such
a way that