Here we were, now wetter than ever, cold as Polar bears, sitting in this hygroscopic catacomb at about 2 a.m. We longed for a fire; a fire was decided on. We had a fire bucket--it had started life as a biscuit tin--a few bits of damp wood, but no coke. "We had some coke, I'm sure! Why, of course--we built it into the dam!" Down came the dam, out came the coke, and in came the water. However, we preferred the water to the cold; so, finally, after many exasperating efforts, we got a fire going in the bucket. Five minutes' bliss followed by disaster. The fire bucket proceeded to emit such dense volumes of sulphurous smoke that in a few moments we couldn't see a lighted match. We stuck it a short time longer, then one by one dived into the water and out into the air, shooting out of our mud hovel to the surface like snakes when you pour water down their holes. Time now 3 a.m. No sleep; rain, water, _plus_ smoke. A board meeting held immediately decides to give up sleep and dug-outs for that night. A motion to try and construct a chimney with an entrenching tool is defeated by five votes to one ... dawn is breaking--my first night in trenches comes to an end. CHAPTER IV MORE MUD--RAIN AND BULLETS--A BIT OF CAKE--"WIND UP"--NIGHT ROUNDS The rose-pink sky fades off above to blue, The morning star alone proclaims the dawn. The empty tins and barbed wire bathed in dew Emerge, and then another day is born. I wrote that "poem" in those--trenches, so you can see the sort of state to which I was reduced.