We had a pretty stiff day of it last Sunday. The battalion went into small trenches in front of a wood a few miles to the right of Mons, and the Germans had the range to a yard. I was on the right edge of the wood with the machine guns, and there wasn’t half some joy. The shells were bursting all over the place. It was a bit of a funny sensation for a start, but you soon got used to it. You would hear it coming singing through the air over your head; then it would give a mighty big bang and you would see a great flash, and there would be a shower of lumps of iron and rusty nails all around your ears. They kept on doing that all Sunday; sometimes three or four at the same time, but none of them hit me. I was too fly for them. Their artillery is pretty good, but the infantry are no good at all. They advance in close column, and you simply can’t help hitting them. I opened fire on them with the machine gun and you could see them go over in heaps, but it didn’t make any difference. For every man that fell ten took his place. That is their strong point. They have an unlimited supply of men. They think they can beat any army in the world simply by hurling great masses of troops against them, but they are finding out their mistake now that they are put up against British troops. The reason for the British retreat is this--all up through France are great lines of entrenchments and fortresses, and as they have not enough men to defeat the Germans in open battle, they are simply retiring from position to position--holding the Germans for a few days and then retiring to the next one. All this is just to gain time. Our losses are pretty severe, but they are nothing to the Germans, whose losses are ten to every one of ours. * * * * * _Letter 12.--From Private J. Willis, of the Gordon Highlanders:_ You mustn’t run away with the notion that we stand shivering or cowering under shell fire, for we don’t. We just go about our business in the usual way. If it’s potting at the Germans that is to the fore we keep at it as though nothing were happening, and if we’re just having a wee bit chat among ourselves we keep at it all the same. Last week when I got this wound in my leg it was because I got excited in an argument with wee Georgie Ferriss, of our company, about Queen’s Park Rangers and their chances this season. One of my chums was hit when he stood up to light a cigarette while the Germans were blazing away at us. Keep your eyes wide open and you will have a big surprise sooner than you think. We’re all right, and the Germans will find that out sooner than you at home. * * * * * _Letter 13.--From Private G. Kay, of the 2nd Royal Scots, to his employer, a milkman, at Richmond:_