le--he had
kept the old pass because a slight tear of the corner or a snick
opposite the date would make it good for use on half a dozen occasions
yet. He did not bother his head about what British division was holding
the trenches opposite to him.

But that divisional Intelligence Officer did--he worried very much. He
wanted to get a certain query removed from an index as soon as possible.

It is always best to get information for nothing. A good way to do this
is to make the enemy talk; and you may be able to make him talk back if
you send over a particular sort of talk to him. So a message was thrown
over into our lines, "Take care"; and "You offal dogs must bleed for
France."

This effort did not fetch any incriminating reply; and so, on a later
night, a lantern was flashed over the parapet, "Australian, go home," it
winked. "Go in the morning--you will be dead in the evening; we are
good."

Later again appeared a notice-board, "Advance Australia fair--if you
can."

Indeed, Fritz became quite talkative, and put up a notice-board,
"English defeat at sea--seven cruisers sunk, one damaged, eleven other
craft sunk. Hip! Hip! Hurrah!"

This did draw at last some of the men in the front line, and they
slipped over the parapet a placard giving a British account of the
losses in the North Sea fight. The putting up of notices is an irregular
proceeding, and this placard had to be withdrawn at once, even before
the Germans could properly read it. The result was an immediate message
posted on the German trenches, "Once more would you let us see the
message?" Still there was no sign from our trenches. So another
plaintive request appeared on the German parapet, "We beg of you to
show again the table of the fleet."

But they were Saxons. Clearly they did not believe all that their
Prussian brother told them about his naval victory. Another day they
hoisted a surreptitious request, "Shoot high--peace will be declared
June 15." They evidently had their gossip in the German trenches just as
we have it in ours--and as we had it in Sydney and Melbourne--absurd
rumours which run all round the line for a week, and which no amount of
experience prevents some people from believing.

"After all, these 'furphies' make life worth living in the trenches," as
one of our men said to me the other day. All the Germans, in a certain
part of the line opposite, now firmly believe that the war is going to
end on August 17th.

But this i