discovered that the Germans had laid a five-inch pipe from their
trenches to within fifty yards of an indentation in our own. They
would be able to enfilade us with gas before we could don our masks.
We looked on our dangerous wind being one that blew across No Man's
Land, but with this pipe we would be gassed when the wind blew down the
line from the Tommies to us. The engineer officer wanted to blow up
the pipe, but I thought if we blocked it up the enemy might not
discover it, and put through gas which would come back on himself.
Some concrete dugouts were being constructed at this time, and I took
out a bucket of concrete and dumped it over the end of the pipe in
broad daylight without having a shot fired at me or being seen.
Afterward I found crawling in the daylight in No Man's Land to be less
dangerous than at night. On a quiet front there is very little rifle
or machine-gun fire by day for fear of betraying machine-gun and sniper
positions. Never once in two or three daylight excursions into No
Man's Land was I seen by the enemy or our own sentries.

Darkness always holds fear for the human heart, and it is the unknown
danger that makes the bravest quail, and not so many are cowards in the
daylight. But who can tell which holds the more peril for the soldier?
He faces the terror that cometh by night, the destruction that walketh
by day, and the pestilence that wasteth at noonday. But night is often
kindly--it brings the balm of sleep to our tired bodies and covers
coarseness and filth with a softening veil. No Man's Land at night is
more beautiful than by day, for we need not know of the horror we do
not see, and it shuts us off from sight of our enemies, and lets us
feel that the wall is thick and strong that stands between our homes
and women kin, and the savagery and bestiality of the monster who
ravaged the homes and raped the women of Belgium and France.

"But if there's horror, there's beauty, wonder;
The trench lights gleam and the rockets play.
That flood of magnificent orange yonder
Is a battery blazing miles away." [2]

[1] Robert W. Service.

[2] Robert W. Service.

CHAPTER XXV

SPY-HUNTING

Man is by instinct and tradition a hunter, and there is no sport so
thrilling as man-hunting, especially if the hunted be a menace to
society, and more especially if he be a spy that threatens the safety
of yourself and comrades. There is also in this branch of intelligence
s