sheet. To
derive shelter in such a storm with a few feet of oilcloth, no props, no
light, is a task to which sweeping back the Atlantic with a toothbrush
is simple in comparison.

But they were up against it ... grumbles ceased. Someone by an
extraordinary stroke of luck stumbled upon an R.E. dump from which
sundry articles essential to the construction of shelters could be
filched. Filched must be emphasised, for therein lay the ulterior reason
for transformation from "fed-upity" to a genial anticipation of
forthcoming trouble. The C.R.E. in the morning would raise Hell when he
discovered half his dump appropriated and scattered by the Guernseys
over a wide area. The O.C.'s of A and D Companies would be hauled over
the coals.... There was the nucleus of the farce. The men pinched and
the officers stood the racket. The very thought sent the whole ranks
chuckling and up soared the high spirit barometer. There was, too, in
these repeated silent visits to the dump a possibility of discovery that
appealed to that venturesome spirit so characteristically a trait of the
Ten Hundred. They chuckled gleefully at each nefarious trip, almost
wished some interfering N.C.O. would appear from an R.E. depot and
originate by his unpleasantries something of a rough house.

Shelters through which streams trickled were run up and the floors tiled
with a queer assortment of tins, empty cartridge cases and odd bits of
wood. Drenched to the very skin, shivering and sneezing with cold, they
gave no heed to the rain tattooing on their faces or to the enemy
shells. Within the rickety shelters damp figures, huddled together for
warmth, closed tired eyes and in utter weariness of limbs fell into a
fitful sleep.

Snatches of song, bursts of laughter, echoed here and there in the
night. Laughter! What on earth was there to laugh at? The wretched
improvised shelters on and into which rain crept, lashed earthwards by a
howling wind? The cold, chilly feet, clinging clothes and wet skin? Or
is there anything refreshingly humorous in the knowledge that Death
groped about in the night for his own ... found them? Is there a
mirth-provoking element in the ten to one chance that YOU may not see
the morrow?

All honour to you, Normans! From Valhalla, in his high seat with the
Anses, Rollo of old looked down on you with pride.

Langemarck, grim, windswept and desolate.

A few short weeks before it had by the flowing of British blood, by our
own Divis