Parliamentary draughtsman. "Yes," he said, after some pertinent
emendations, "it'll do. But the title is too long for common use at
G.H.Q."

"Why!" said the other with a certain paternal sensitiveness, "what do
you suggest?"

"I suggest," said the Judge-Advocate pensively,--"I suggest we call it
Stokes's Act."

* * * * *

Now this story has one merit--if it has no other. It is true. And as
for the rest of the Act and its preamble, and its sections and its
sub-sections, are they not written in the Statute Book? In the Temple
they call it 5 & 6 Geo. V. cap. 23. But out there they call it "Stokes's
Act."

X

THE FRONT

Persons of a rheumatic habit are said to apprehend the approach of damp
weather by certain presentiments in their bones. So people of a nervous
temperament--like the writer--have premonitions of the approach to "the
Front" by a feeling of cold feet. These are usually induced by the
spectacle of large and untimely cavities in the road, but they may be
accentuated, as not infrequently happened, by seeing the process of
excavation itself--and hearing it. The effect on the auditory nerves is
known as "k-r-rump," which is, phonetically speaking, a fairly literal
translation. The best thing to do on such occasions is to obey the
nursery rhyme, and "open your mouth and shut your eyes." The intake of
air will relieve the pressure on your ear-drums. I have been told by one
of our gunners that the gentle German has for years been experimenting
in order to produce as "frightful" and intimidating a sound by the
explosion of his shells as possible. He has succeeded. Cases have been
known of men without a scratch laughing and crying simultaneously after
a too-close acquaintance with the German hymnology of hate. The results
are, however, sometimes disappointing from the German point of view, as
in the case of the soldier who, being spattered with dirt but otherwise
untouched, picked himself up, and remarked with profound contempt, "The
dirty swine!"

The immediate approach to the trenches is usually marked by what sailors
call a "dodger," which is to say, a series of canvas screens. These do
not conceal your legs, and if you are exceptionally tall, they may not
conceal your head. Your feet don't matter, but if you are wise you duck
your head. Nine out of ten soldiers take an obstinate pride in walking
upright, and will laugh at you most unfeelingly for your pains. Once in