a single casualty for
days, whereas, previously, they had been almost constantly under heavy and
accurate fire!

During the few days following the "white flag" affair, when the boches'
shelling was not quite so steady, we passed our time playing cards.
Occasionally one of the fellows, who had split a piece of wood at one end,
would insert a card in it and hold it over the parapet. Nine times out of
ten a German sniper--there were many of them in the vicinity--would put a
hole in it with a bullet.

These snipers caused us a great deal of trouble, particularly when we
wanted water, which was procurable only at a little brook on our left
flank. To get it was such a risky proposition that there were no "detail
parties" formed in the daytime, and any one who went in quest of it, did
so at his own risk. Many a one who did so venture paid for his daring
with his life. The snipers were always busy, even at night, and seemed to
have a line on this spot.

A few of the fellows, rather than risk going to the brook, filled their
water bottles from a duck pond--full of a dirty, green, slimy
liquid--situated behind our line. The result was sickness to most of those
that drank it and nearly all had to be sent to hospital.

Late one afternoon our section (thirteen men) was all together. Four of us
were playing cards in an effort at distraction, for we were nearly insane
from the lack of drinking water. For two days we had had to eat our bully
beef and biscuits dry. We made it up that we should play a game of "phat"
(a common card game among the Tommies), and that the one with the lowest
count would have to take the section's water bottles and fill them at the
brook. This--to use a Yankee expression--was a "cinch" for me, or at least
I thought so at the beginning of the game; and so did the others, who,
because of my record as a winner at the game were of the opinion that I
couldn't lose.

However, toward the middle of the game I became nervous. So far I had
taken only two tricks. Things got worse as the playing progressed, and it
wound up with me the loser.

Without a word, they collected the thirteen bottles and hung them on my
left shoulder like decorations on a Christmas tree.

Silently I made off. I reached the brook without mishap.

I had almost half of the bottles filled when--zip--a bullet struck very
close to me. I tumbled into the water, pulling the bottles with me, and,
in a lying position, continued filling them. Th