ng just sufficient cover for the body. An interesting
operation provided with a little mild excitement in the form of enemy
snipers, who, however, greatly assisted in the rapid and hurried
completion of the work. (N.B.--This undertaking in training required
half a morning!) Stumpy crawled up and down the line for a yard or two
in the vague hope that someone might have made a hole too large; nothing
doing, he started on one himself, grumbling audibly.

"That's it ... poor Tommy. Making a 'ole," pessimistically, "diggin' a
grave for his bloomin' self."

Normans gaze westward where the vague grey earth meets the overcast sky.
Five miles deep in less than twelve hours. The thrill of it--and what
you have you will HOLD.

With the coming of the night came the reaction. Wild excitement and vim
of victorious advance gave way for calm reflection and with it the
certain knowledge of counter-attack. They realised abruptly that they
were physically and mentally worn, the body clamoured madly for food and
drink, the mind for rest and sleep. Rain trickled incessantly down each
man's face and glistened in dusty beads upon foreheads, clothing at last
gave way to complete saturation, and water, collecting in pools until
over ankle deep, oozed slushily in and out of the eyelet holes.

Cold rapidly fastened its grip; dull agony pervaded the entire being
until nothing more than a mechanical row of figures staring tiredly out
upon No Man's Land, grasping rust-flaked rifles in numb, stiff hands.
Thinking not, caring not, moving not--only that uncertain stare into the
void. And over all the night, the wild shrieking of lost spirits in the
trees, the sharp crack of an occasional rifle or fitful bursts from the
poorly-timed enemy shrapnel.

Patrols were sent out into No Man's Land, groped blindly to and fro for
two hours and returned in the very last stage of complete exhaustion to
report "All Clear." Simple, is it not, to go on patrol from a line you
cannot see towards another line you also cannot see ... sometimes you
lost touch with the others and gazed round into the blackness with that
primordial fear of the unknown inspired by the night. Lost! God, it
nearly unmans you. With fast-thumping heart you hear the approach of
guttural Hun voices ... DOWN and QUIET. At last calm thinking points out
that yon burning house is in your own lines. Make for it and all is
well. Aye. Scouts, does the pulse quicken even now?

What is the thin veneer