"This," said Colonel Kemp, "will never do. We must start wearing the dashed things ourselves." And it was so. Next day, to the joy of the Battalion, their officers appeared in the trenches selfconsciously wearing what looked like small sky-blue wash-hand basins balanced upon their heads. But discipline was excellent. No one even smiled. In fact, there was a slight reaction in favour of the helmets. Conversations like the following were overheard:-- "I'm tellin' you, Jimmy, the C.O. is no the man for tae mak' a show of himself like that for naething. These tin bunnets must be some use. Wull we pit oors on?" "Awa' hame, and bile your held!" replied the unresponsive James. "They'll no stop a whish-bang," conceded the apostle of progress, "but they would keep off splunters, and a wheen bullets, and--and--" "And the rain!" supplied Jimmy sarcastically. This gibe suddenly roused the temper of the other participant in the debate. "I tell you," he exclaimed, in a voice shrill with indignation, "that these ---- helmets are some ---- use!" "And I tell _you_," retorted James earnestly, "that these ---- helmets are no ---- ---- use!" When two reasonable persons arrive at a controversial _impasse_, they usually agree to differ and go their several ways. But in "K(1)" we prefer practical solutions. The upholder of helmets hastily thrust his upon his head. "I'll show you, Jimmy!" he announced, and clambered up on the firing-step. "And I'll ---- well show _you_, Wullie!" screamed James, doing likewise. Simultaneously the two zealots thrust their heads over the parapet, and awaited results. These came. The rifles of two Boche snipers rang out, and both demonstrators fell heavily backwards into the arms of their supporters. By all rights they ought to have been killed. But they were both very much alive. Each turned to the other triumphantly, and exclaimed,-- "I tellt ye so!" There was a hole right through the helmet of Jimmy, the unbeliever. The fact that there was not also a hole through his head was due to his forethought in having put on a tam-o'-shanter underneath. The net result was a truncated "toorie." Wullie's bullet had struck his helmet at a more obtuse angle, and had glanced off, as the designer of the smooth exterior had intended it to do. At first glance, the contest was a draw. But subsequent investigation elicited the fact that Jimmy in his backward fall had bitten his tongue to the effusion of blood. The verdict was therefore awarded, on points, to Wullie, and the spectators dispersed in an orderly manner just as the platoon sergeant came round the traverse to change the sentry. II