enemy's officers as the following
message from the _Standard_ illustrates: "A small party of our cavalry
were out on reconnaissance work, scouring woods and searching the
countryside. Just about dusk a hail of bullets came upon our party from
a small spinney of fir trees on the side of a hill. We instantly wheeled
off as if we were retreating, but, in fact, we merely pretended to
retire and galloped round across plowed land to the other side of the
spinney, fired on the men, and they mounted their horses and flew like
lightning out of their 'supper room.' They left a finely cooked repast
of beef-steaks, onions and fried potatoes all ready and done to a turn,
with about fifty bottles of Pilsner lager beer, which was an acceptable
relish to our meal. Ten of our men gave chase and returned for an
excellent feed."

Another amusing capture is that of an enterprising Tommy who possessed
himself of a German officer's bearskin, a cap, helmet, and Jaeger
sleeping bag. He is now regarded as the "toff of the regiment." The
luxury of a bath was indulged in by a company of Berkshires at one
encampment. Forty wine barrels nearly full of water were discovered
here, and the thirsty men were about to drink it when their officer
stopped them. "Well," said one, "if it's not good enough to drink it'll
do to wash in," and with one accord they stripped and jumped into the
barrels! Nothing has been more notable than Tommy's desire for
cleanliness and tidiness. It is something fine and healthy about the
British soldier. One wounded man, driven up to a hospital, limped with
difficulty to a barber's shop for a shave before he would enter the
building. "I couldn't face the doctors and nurses looking like I was,"
he told the ambulance attendant.

Of all the soldiers' wants the most imperative appears to be the
harmless necessary cigarette. All their letters clamor for tobacco in
that form. "We can't get a decent smoke here," says one writer. An army
airman "simply craves for cigarettes and matches." From a cavalryman
comes the appeal that a few boxes of cigarettes and some thick chocolate
would be luxuries. "Just fancy," to quote from another letter, "one
cigarette among ten of us--hardly one puff a-piece."

In the French hospitals the wounded men are being treated with the
greatest kindness, and during convalescence are being loaded with
luxuries. "Spoilt darlings," one Scottish nurse in Paris says about
them, "but who could help spoiling them