When a soldier is in the trenches, he anxiously awaits news from home. If the people at home do not hear from them at regular intervals, do not let this stop them from writing bright and cheerful letters. There may be reasons why his letters do not reach you regularly. Parcels containing chocolates and cigarettes are always acceptable and as American soldiers like chewing gum, this should also be sent. Light silk or cotton underwear is preferable to the woollen, which harbours the vermin. Camphor balls placed in a small bag and worn on the chest and back are a preventative to the vermin. They may not keep the vermin away, but this prevents them from worrying you, as it seems to chloroform them. When a man is killed, if it is at all possible, he is given a proper military burial. A record and number of the grave is kept. Men are specially detailed under the Senior Military Chaplain to place little white crosses which show the number and name of the man, his religion, and date he was killed. This record is kept by the Senior Burial Officer of the corps. If anyone wishes to obtain a photograph of the deceased soldier's grave, they can get same on application to the Senior Burial Officer of whatever corps the soldier was in. The graves are as a rule decorated with flowers by the Nursing Sisters, who frequently go to visit these pretty little burial grounds. Always carry a stout leather shoelace. In case of an artery's being cut, your comrade or yourself can use it as a tourniquet. Fifty per cent of our troops do not think of carrying a lace. They trust to providence. Don't make a noise. Quietness is essential. The enemy is continually throwing up rockets, which enables him to see clearly for a distance of half a mile. When that happens you must at once get down on your stomach as flat as possible. Don't look for a clean spot, drop in water if it is there. If you get a kick from your comrade or you have a nasty fall, don't start to use choice language. If you do, you place your life and that of your comrade in jeopardy. This is what always happens. The Germans open a bombardment on your front and support trenches. Then there is a lull for a moment. They probably think that you are annihilated, but you are not. You are still smiling. Then their trumpets sound a charge and they come on in heaps with a poor half-hearted cheer. You must now think of the women and children of Belgium. Think also what would happen to your own if the drunken Germans had them in their grasp. That is the time you come in. Just keep cool, calm, collected, and let your rounds sing merrily about three feet from the ground. You will find the crowds in front of you--or part of them--will go back again all right, sadder, and maybe wiser men.