hat may have been a
password, stepped down into our trench. He had evidently been out to
get water for himself and comrades from their nearest supply, and taken
the wrong turning! He made an attempt at a grin when he found where he
was, and evidently thought the change could not be for the worse. He
was so thick in the head, however--I have known cows with more
intelligence--that I wonder any other German being fool enough to trust
him with such a valuable article as a water-bottle.

We were planning to take a portion of the trench opposite to straighten
our line, and I had scouted down a hundred yards of it from behind, and
got a good idea of the strength with which it was held, taking bearings
of its position. The next night, as the attack was to take place at
daybreak, I thought I had better go over and make sure that I had made
no mistakes. I crossed over the first trench without any difficulty.
There did not seem to be any one on guard. I then went toward their
support lines where there seemed to be more men, mostly working
parties. I passed these and with unpardonable carelessness stood up to
have a look round, thinking that it was too dark for me to be seen.
But I got a shock to find there was a sentry almost beside me--though
he was, if anything, more scared than myself. He pulled the trigger
without taking aim and naturally missed me, but if he had been
wide-awake he could with ease have punctured me with his bayonet. I
did not stop to pass the time of day with him, for the place seemed
suddenly alive with Huns as he called "Heinz, Heinz!"--probably the
name of his corporal--but I dived into a shell-hole and flattened
myself as much as possible. As I was lost to sight and to memory too
dear to be allowed to escape they began to cover the ground with bombs.
These all went well beyond me, and had it not been for "Butter-fingers"
I might have escaped. But a bomb slipped from his hand, rolling into
the hole in front of him. He jumped back into the safety of the
trench, and did not know that the bomb had fallen on me as it exploded.
But _I_ knew it--my left leg was broken in three places, twelve wounds
in my right, and others on my back, twenty that afterward had to be
dressed, not counting some other scratches. Then they came out to look
for me, my "friend" almost stepping on me, but after half an hour's
fruitless search they gave up. About two hours later I started home on
my long, painful crawl. It