in that vicinity for several months,
though our brigade shifted from one position to another along that line
all summer.

We first relieved a battalion of the Middlesex on June 28th opposite a
poisonous little spot known as "la Petite Douve." Here a small stream,
dignified by the name of the Douve River, wandered lazily across the
flat at the foot of the Messines Ridge and coiled like a natural moat
in front of the Petite Douve Farm.

This, like all farms in Flanders, was a square of strongly-built brick
buildings. In it the enemy had established concrete machine-gun
positions and converted the place into a veritable fort. It projected in
a salient from their average line and enfiladed the main road running
from our position to Messines.

The Middlesex, on our relieving them, had told us a weird tale of the
number of rounds of rifle ammunition they expended in a single night. We
discounted this by the usual 50 per cent., but our major had an extra
supply brought up in case of emergencies.

An evening or two later we found the reason for the Middlesex's heavy
expenditure of cartridges, for the enemy, on a three-mile front,
suddenly opened up rapid fire, keeping up this fusillade for nearly half
an hour.

This occurred at odd intervals for some time while we occupied that
front, and was known as "the Germans (or the Fritzes) getting their wind
up." The Middlesex had been trying to beat down this fire with their own
rifle fire; we contented ourselves with sitting tight and, by careful
patrolling, watching for the first signs of an attack. On such a night
as this poor F---- was out on patrol when the rapid fire opened up, and
we nearly struck him off the company strength. Much to our surprise he
and his patrol came in later, quite unhurt, having discovered, and taken
shelter in, an advanced German trench near some willows.

Later it became quite the thing to take a few men out with you and bomb
this trench.

We only did two "tours" in this particular piece of trench, as the next
time we came in that company frontage had been allotted to the battalion
on our left and we moved just around the corner, the Petite Douve Farm
being almost hidden from our view by trees but continuing to annoy us
with its machine-guns.

It was here that we celebrated "Dominion Day" (July 1st), a Canadian
ensign that had arrived a few days before in a parcel from "home" waving
gaily behind our lines.

It was here, too, that Captain Frank