"Here," said he, "is where we teach 'em to throw live bombs--you can see where they've been exploding; dummies look a bit off-colour, don't they?" And he pointed to the ragged scarecrows with his whip. "You know, I suppose," he continued, "that a Mills' bomb is quite safe until you take out the pin, and then it is quite safe as long as you hold it, but the moment it is loosed the lever flies off, which releases the firing lever and in a few seconds it explodes. It is surprising how men vary, some are born bombers, some soon learn, but some couldn't be bombers if they tried--not that they're cowards, it's just a case of mentality. I've seen men take hold of a bomb, pull out the pin, and then stand with the thing clutched in their fingers, absolutely unable to move! And there they'd stand till Lord knows when if the sergeant didn't take it from them. I remember a queer case once. We were saving the pins to rig up dummy bombs, and the order was: 'Take the bomb in your right hand, remove the pin, put the pin in your pocket, and at the word of command, throw the bomb.' Well, this particular fellow was so wrought up that he threw away the pin and put the bomb in his pocket!" "Was he killed?" I asked. "No. The sergeant just had time to dig the thing out of the man's pocket and throw it away. Bomb exploded in the air and knocked 'em both flat." "Did the sergeant get the V.C. or M.C. or anything?" I enquired. The Major smiled and shook his head. "I have a good many sergeants here and they can't all have 'em! Now come and see my lecture theatres." Presently, looming through the rain, I saw huge circular structures that I could make nothing of, until, entering the larger of the two, I stopped in surprise, for I looked down into a huge, circular amphitheatre, with circular rows of seats descending tier below tier to a circular floor of sand, very firm and hard. "All made out of empty oil cans!" said the Major, tapping the nearest can with his whip. "I have 'em filled with sand and stacked as you see!--good many thousands of 'em here. Find it good for sound too--shout and try! This place holds about five thousand men--" "Whose wonderful idea was this?" "Oh, just a little wheeze of my own. Now, how about the poison gas; feel like going through it?" I glanced at K., K. glanced at me. I nodded, so did K. "Certainly!" said I. Wherefore the Major led us over sandy hills and along sandy valleys and so to a dingy and weather-worn hut, in whose dingy interior we found a bright-faced subaltern in dingy uniform and surrounded by many dingy boxes and a heterogeneous collection of things. The subaltern was busy at work on a bomb with a penknife, while at his elbow stood a sergeant grasping a screwdriver, who, perceiving the Major, came to attention, while the cheery sub. rose, beaming. "Can you give us some gas?" enquired the Major, after we had been introduced, and had shaken hands. "Certainly, sir!" nodded the cheerful sub. "Delighted!"