by obtained a splendid
idea of what was going on, and how the various branches of the service
worked together and viewed any given problem.

Some of these views were quite at variance with one another. For
instance the artillery man looked upon the infantryman as the man who
protected his guns and kept off the enemy while he killed them. The
infantryman naturally looked upon the artillery as the arm to support
him in time of trouble and prepare the ground while he did the dirty
work. The aviator called them all "ground soldiers" in a more or less
lofty manner.

The medical and other services looked upon the fighting man as the one
who gave them a great deal of work, and they all usually forgot that
they existed for the express purpose of keeping Tommy in the trenches
clothed, fed, healthy and protected from the assaults of the enemy;
for Tommy is the man, say what you will, without him everything else
goes smash; it is the human being who still counts in war; it is the
man power which will win.

CHAPTER XII.

SKETCHES FROM A LABORATORY WINDOW.

_The Bandstand in the Square._

Many interesting little affairs happened in the Bandstand in the Grand
Place beneath our laboratory windows. One Sunday evening in June a
khaki-clad figure ascended a pulpit which had been improvised there;
the seats in front of him were filled with rows of generals, colonels
and other officers. In a rich, stentorian voice he gave out the lines
of a verse, and led by a cornet, the strains of the grand old hymn "O
God our help in ages past" swelled on the summer evening air, sung as
only soldiers can sing.

The crowd of soldiers about the bandstand grew, and little French
children playing about in their best Sunday clothes, stopped in
curious wonderment to hear "Les Anglais" sing. A few of their elders
strolled over and even though they could not understand, they listened
attentively.

Our thoughts flew thousands of miles over the ocean to other Sunday
evening services at our home in Canada. We could see the old family
pew; we could hear father and mother and the old friends singing that
same old hymn, while our youthful minds were likely busied with
recollections of a lacrosse match or baseball game that we had seen
the day before, or maybe of a visit to the old dam where we had had
the finest swim of the season. We could see women attired in spotless
white, and men in frock coats and silk hats, walking sedately to
church, and w