War is a great ager. Young men grow old quickly here. It can be seen in their faces; they have lost all the irresponsibility of youth. I have met many men who have been here since Mons; they all look weary and worn out by the strain. Now new troops are coming forward and it is hoped that they will be able to send some back for a rest. Several days ago the adjutant of the Tenth Battalion Sherwood Foresters came to me with this message which was sent through our lines:— ------------------------------------- Arrest Officer Royal Engineers with orderly. Former, six feet, black moustache, web equipment, revolver. Latter, short, carries rifle, canvas bandolier. Please warn transports and all concerned. ------------------------------------- Everybody kept a good lookout for these spies. One sentry surprised a real R.E. officer named Perkins who was working out a drainage scheme. Seeming to answer the above description, he stalked him,—“Come ’ere, you ---- ----, you’re the ---- I’ve been looking for.” The officer, nonplussed, commenced to stutter. “Sergeant, I’ve got ’im and he can’t speak a word of English.” The sergeant collected him in and guarded him until another engineer officer, known to the guard, came along. As soon as Perkins saw him, he said, “F-r-r-ed, t-t-tell this d-d-damn fool wh-ho I am.” “Who the hell are you calling Fred? I don’t know him; hold him, sergeant, he’s a desperate one.” Scarcely able to contain his joy, Fred went back to the Engineers’ Camp to tell the great news and Perkins spent three hours in the sandbag dugout listening to a description of what the sergeant and his guard would do to him if they only had their way. The real spies, who did a great deal of damage, were finally rounded up and shot in a listening post trying to regain their own lines. ------------------------------------- Enemy snipers give us a great deal of trouble. It is very difficult to locate them. One of our men tried out an original scheme. He put an empty biscuit tin on the parapet. Immediately the sniper put a bullet through it. Now thought the Genius, “If I look through the two holes it will give me my direction,”—so getting up on the firestep he looked through, only to roll over with the top of his head smashed off by a bullet. The sniper was shooting his initials on the tin. -------------------------------------