more so than usual. The water
is up to my waist in some places. Things are moving, I think, and
perhaps our friends the Germans may shortly move also. We have been
pouring shells on the poor dears all day. This morning I was lucky in
getting hold of a German helmet. The Divisional General has been
screaming for one for days, as we wish to find out what troops are in
front of us. I have had patrols prowling about everywhere at nights
trying to catch a prisoner. Yesterday morning, for a wonder, we found
some Germans patrolling outside their trenches, and fired upon them,
but they got away. This was just at daybreak; but, going very
carefully over the ground as soon as we could in the dark, we came
upon a helmet, either dropped in flight, or else one of the men had
been hit. However, we carried it off in triumph, and so found out for
the General what he wanted to know. Thanks for your news. As to poor
Mr. Innes Cross of our regiment, who is missing, I know nothing. The
other or 2nd Battalion might tell you something. A machine gun has
been going hard at my trench for some time, off and on....

IN TRENCHES.
_December 15th, 1914._

It was our evening to go off to the town six miles away for the three
days in every twelve, which we get to steady our nerves, I suppose.
Unfortunately, some other operations had to be carried out, so we were
not able to leave, after all, and we are still here, worse luck! I was
summoned this morning to go up a road to meet the General. I found him
in a farm, having been obliged to take cover from rifle fire. After
the business was settled, I saw him off to comparative safety, and
then trudged back to our trenches, meeting a stretcher with one of our
men shot through the chest below the heart when he was on the road,
also on duty. I will say this for the men, that whilst I go off duty
with my heart in my mouth and hurry through it, they saunter about,
and no amount of checking will make them understand that it is
dangerous to idle about in the open. Afterwards they are hit--if not
seriously wounded. They are very like little children, rather annoyed,
but in their hearts, I am sure, secretly glad that they have escaped
from the awful squalor of the trenches to the comparative comfort of a
wounded man in hospital. It is turning a little colder now, which will
be really a great improvement over the sloppy w