O’Flynn is kitchen policing because he tried to come into the barracks after taps. Lights out at ten and O’Flynn arrived about 2 G.M. He avoided the fire-guard successfully and went around to the back of the barracks. There he jimmied a window with his pocket knife and got it opened, only to have it fall on his neck when he was about half-way in. By way of exercise he put his elbow through it. Then to add to the situation he found himself in the darkened mess hall instead of the dormitory, and the noise he made when he knocked over several benches naturally grated on the Sergeant’s nerves. Said Sergeant arrived in the hall in his union suit about the time O’Flynn had untangled himself, and, after cussing him out to perfection, he handed the Irishman a week at kitchen policing. “And now,” said O’Flynn, “t’ next time I come in through t’ windey, I’ll stay out.” A week of this and I’ll be able to qualify as a first rate housekeeper for a lumber camp. Already I can lay down a few very necessary rules which the average housewife will appreciate, as for instance:— 1. Never take it for granted that a man has only one appetite. We have two hundred and seventy men here, but they carry around an aggregate of six hundred appetites. 2. Never plunge your hands into an ash can full of greasy water without first removing your wrist watch. 3. Never attempt to mop up after your men folk. Just turn the hose on, lash the nozzle to a convenient table leg and walk away and forget about it. 4. In carrying out a pan full of hot ashes never grab the handle. Thrust a stick through it, it saves the temper and the floor. 5. Never let any one kid you into trying to take the black off the kitchen pans with sapolio, rather throw the pans away. [Illustration: Never let anyone kid you into trying to take the black off the kitchen pans] Delightfully brief and entertaining job, that of removing the black from ash cans that are used to cook soup in. Our Mess Sergeant, the pirate, noticed that for about three seconds during this afternoon I wasn’t doing anything in particular, so he gave me a cake of sapolio and a mop and told me to get busy and shine up the outside of the pots and pans and get all the black off. I went to it and stuck—until our Jap cook, the slant-eyed angel, came in about two hours later and told me the honourable ash cans always got blacked up again so what’s the use; and anyhow he wanted to use the mop. I almost kissed him. Thank goodness the coal shovelling is all over with. Finished it yesterday. To-day during my moments of leisure I split a few cords of kindling wood and carried it into the kitchen, but I like splitting wood better than heaving coal when it comes to making a choice.