your aunt at Rostrevor about Sydney, to whom she
seems very devoted....

IN TRENCHES.
_January 24th, 1915._

I believe that to-day is Sunday, judging from the sound of church
bells in the direction of the second town, which lies four miles
behind us. They were ringing "to church" while we were standing "to
arms" in the dark with a good deal of rifle fire, though not much from
the guns. A new lot of Germans, we think, have come opposite to us,
and they are very hard shooters, always firing either machine guns or
rifles. We are too busy working at our parapets now to go for them,
but when they are finished I propose to wake them up well. I got in
rather early last night about midnight. You know war has comic
incidents as well as pathetic ones. I was finishing my way round the
trenches in the dark, when Mr. Gartland, R.I.R., a very nice boy,
attached himself to me, and said he had orders to go to a certain
place and did not know the road, and might he come with me. Of course
I said "Yes," and we progressed till we came to a bridge, just a plank
really over a wide stream. I crossed it quietly after whispering to
him to be careful. Next moment I heard a frantic struggle and fall,
and discovered him clutching on for dear life to the plank, having
slipped on it. We managed to rescue him from a watery grave. I must
tell you that all of this was out in the open within 200 yards of the
German trenches, as we were crossing from company to company. My
escort also fell at this bridge, but I caught him by the scruff of the
neck, thereby preventing him getting into the water. I suppose
Oakfield, my old home in Nova Scotia, taught me a bit about roughing
it, so, elderly man that I am, I can keep fairly steady on my feet
over this tricky ground. Well, having safely delivered Mr. G. at his
place, I moved on, when we heard another fearful splash and then more
floundering, and found that a corporal of my stretcher-bearers had
fallen into a very deep drain full of water. Again my escort and
myself started off to earn the Royal Humane Society's medal. However,
he managed to scramble out, wet through. As I say, the comic side
alternates with the pathetic, for just then we had a poor boy shot
through the head. In the dark we made out that it was his eye, but on
getting him to hospital, where we could strike a light to work with,
we saw that the bul