'Well, I shouldn't have been there at all,' he replies. 'I can't understand that,' I say. 'Well, sir, I'm not a raider at all; but when I heard the shots, I couldn't resist, so I slipped over the parapet and into it.' It is difficult to tell exactly what success the raid has had; but the men seem to agree that with those they accounted for and Huns they found killed by our artillery fire altogether twenty-five of the enemy were destroyed. We have lost three killed in action, and a number of wounded who will recover. One prisoner has been brought back, and he seems to be a regular walking orderly-room for the number of official documents in his possession. It may be but a small affair; but when we remember that there were twenty-five raids the same night, it will be recognized that we are not sitting down tamely and submitting to the German occupation of any part of France. Probably the British press will announce to-morrow, 'All calm on the Western Front'; but we know that every night No Man's Land is the scene of deeds of valour and self-sacrifice, proving that our men have the fighting spirit of their fathers; and that apart from the clash of material forces, in the great battle of spirits which is the ultimate basis upon which a decision in war depends, we need not doubt the 'will to victory' of our men. No Man's Land, with all its pathos and sorrow, the grave of unknown heroes, the battle-ground on which many a brave exploit is enacted which is unnoticed and unrecognized, is still the pledge and prophecy of our final victory. Now we must trudge back to the village. We walk about two miles in saps, and then join the ambulances waiting on the road. You begin to feel tired at this stage! IV THE BOMBER 'THE CALL OF THE BUGLE.' The Bugles of England were blowing o'er the sea, As they had called a thousand years—calling now for me. They woke me from my dreaming in the dawning of the day, The Bugles of England—and how could I stay! The Banners of England unfurled across the sea, Floating out upon the wind, were beckoning to me. Storm-rent and battle-torn, smoke-stained and grey: The Banners of England—and how could I stay! O England, I heard the cry of those who died for thee, Sounding like an organ voice across the winter sea; They lived and died for England, and gladly went their way: England, O England—how could I stay! PTE. J. D. BURNS, A.I.F. (Killed in action, Gallipoli.) Son of Rev. ---- Burns, late of Bairnsdale, Victoria. IV THE BOMBER