Tidy, of the Toronto Battalion,
astonished the brigade by making a sortie from the trench in daytime and
bringing in two prisoners whom he had observed moving in the tall wheat
that here and there shut off our view of the German line.

Much courage is required to make a sortie of this sort, and one is not
surprised that a third German had to be shot before the other two
surrendered to Captain Tidy and his two comrades.

No information of importance was gained from these prisoners except that
the enemy had sent them out to ascertain who the new troops occupying
our line were.

Summer was now well advanced, and it was doubtful if a further "push"
would be attempted that season, and we gradually settled down to the
routine of trench warfare.

During the middle of July we did one tour in the trenches in front of
Wulverghem, relieving a battalion of Northumberland Fusiliers. We only
stayed there a few days, but were greatly bothered with rifle-grenades,
so, finding that our grenades fell short of the German line, the major
and a small party took the grenade-gun out in the long grass until they
were able to reach the enemy and thus secured a temporary peace.

The East Yorks then relieved us, and when next we entered the trenches
it was a little to the right of our old position and in front of the
celebrated Ploegsteert Wood.

Here the right battalions of the brigade had rather a strenuous time,
as some mines had been exploded and there was still a struggle going on
around the craters.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO PLUGSTREET WOOD.]

But on the left, abutting our old position near the Douve Farm, we had
rather an easy time of it, there being little shelling and the trenches
nearly two hundred yards apart.

In fact our greatest activity was at night and at dawn, conditions at
the latter time being well expressed in an anonymous sonnet we found
pinned up in a dug-out entitled "Stand To":--

"Early every morning,
As the stars begin to tire,
Without the slightest warning,
Our maxim opens fire;
A German gunner answers back,
And one by one the rifles crack,
All down the line you can hear the rattle,
And then begins our morning battle;
And as the dawn creeps in the sky
A couple of shells go whistling by.
The bullets are flying in every direction
Just as the larks begin to carol,
And all because the machine-gun section
Wanted to warm their hands on the barrel."

CHAPTE