New monsters called Tanks have taken to moving across the debateable territory called No Man's Land, spitting out flaming death as they go. In short, all the accumulating frightfulness which we are learning to use is being used to say to the Hun in tongues of fire and steel, 'This is not your land; begone, and take up once more your watch on the Rhine!' But you wonder why we do not annex No Man's Land, and advance. The strategy of staying here till the right moment comes is wise and humane. There are fine towns and villages containing non-combatants on the other side of No Man's Land. It would be but to mock their hopes to advance unless we could sweep on everywhere. Nor do we wish to conquer in such a way that every village is left in ruins. Here and there at strategic points we may have to do that. It is not so much that we want to break through as that we want the whole line to break. Meanwhile it is a very hot and unhealthy place for Fritz. Besides that, we are beating the enemy every day on this line. It suits us. We have organized it. Here we have trolley-lines, concrete bomb-proof stores, and many things that take time to build. Later, when the right time comes, we shall cross No Man's Land at many places, and it will become France again for ever. Until that time comes we cannot do more than present our claim to No Man's Land. We do this frequently and 'in person.' Our patrols and scouts enter it nightly, and it requires courage and craft to do this. Through secret sally-ports, over parapets, and where the line has been damaged by shell-fire, they steal out in the darkness, and the German sentries keep a succession of flares and star-shells going to detect them. What hairbreadth escapes they have, and what escapes the Hun sentries have; for sometimes they find themselves very near to one, and they have to get back with their information without raising an alarm if possible. Sometimes, however, through a mistake, in the fog or darkness they get into the German line, and they have to fight and escape amid following bullets. At such times our men at the parapets have carefully to cover their return with rifle-fire, and even help them over or under our defences back again to safety. Young intelligence officers take many risks as they crawl amid the hollows in No Man's Land, revolver in hand, in search of information. We got a few body-shields for our scouts in our battalion, and they went out for a long time with a greater confidence. The protection they afforded gave them a calmer frame of mind, which produced extra efficiency. But we make more serious claims on this disputed ground by our 'raids,' which occur in many places every night. The raid is a survival, or perhaps a revival, of the old hand-to-hand fighting. It is a curious anti-climax of science in war, of which there are so many illustrations to-day.