temptation is too great. Once I was out on patrol
alone, having sent my man back with a message, when I encountered a
Heinie. I was lying down at the time. A flock of lights went up and
showed this fellow standing about ten feet from me. He had frozen
and stayed that way till the flares died, but I was close enough to
see that he was a German. Also--marvel of marvels--he was alone.

When the darkness settled again, I got to my feet and jumped at
him. He jumped at me--another marvel. Going into the clinch I
missed him with the persuader and lost my grip on it, leaving the
weapon dangling by the leather loop on my wrist. He had struck at
me with his automatic, which I think he must have dropped, though
I'm not sure of that. Anyway we fell into each other's arms and
went at it barehanded. He was bigger than I. I got under the ribs
and tried to squeeze the breath out of him, but he was too rugged.

At the same time I felt that he didn't relish the clinch. I slipped
my elbow up and got under his chin, forcing his head back. His
breath smelled of beer and onions. I was choking him when he
brought his knee up and got me in the stomach and again on the
instep when he brought his heel down.

It broke my hold, and I staggered back groping for the persuader.
He jumped back as far as I did. I felt somehow that he was glad. So
was I. We stood for a minute, and I heard him gutter out something
that sounded like "Verdamder swinehunt." Then we both backed away.

It seemed to me to be the nicest way out of the situation. No doubt
he felt the same.

I seem to have wandered far from the Quarries and the Grouse Spots.
Let's go back.

We were two days in the Grouse Spots and were then relieved, going
back to the Quarries and taking the place of Number 9 in support.
While lying there, I drew a patrol that was interesting because it
was different.

The Souchez River flowed down from Abalaine and Souchez villages
and through our lines to those of the Germans, and on to Lens.
Spies, either in the army itself or in the villages, had been
placing messages in bottles and floating them down the river to the
Germans.

Somebody found this out, and a net of chicken wire had been placed
across the river in No Man's Land. Some one had to go down there
and fish for bottles twice nightly. I took this patrol alone. The
lines were rather far apart along the river, owing to the swampy
nature of the ground, which made livable trenches impossible.