The first time I visited the big warehouse of the Camouflage School at Fort St. Menge, I thought for a moment that I was back in the old Eden Musée which used to stand in West 23d Street, for stacked against the walls were scores of lifelike silhouettes of soldiers charging with fixed bayonets, while the shelves were lined with soldiers’ heads beautifully executed in papier-maché. The silhouettes, which were of painted canvas mounted on light wooden frames, were used in the so-called “Chinese attacks”—an idea which we borrowed from the British. When it was necessary to ascertain how quickly the enemy could switch on his artillery-fire in a certain sector, or the location of his batteries or machine-guns, a hundred or more of these silhouettes would be carried out into No Man’s Land under cover of darkness and laid down in front of our wire in such a manner that they could be pulled upright by means of cords running back to our trenches. Just at daybreak, at that hour when objects are still indistinct and when the nerves of the men in the trenches are at the greatest tension, a signal would be given, the cords pulled, and a long line of what appeared to the startled Germans to be charging Yankees would suddenly appear in the mist overhanging No Man’s Land. Instantly the German trenches would crackle and blaze with musketry, the concealed batteries and machine-gun nests would betray their positions by going into action, and by the time the Huns discovered the hoax that had been played upon them, our observers had obtained the information which they required. Sometimes, in order to further chagrin the Boche, the silhouettes would be left standing. The papier-maché heads to which I have already referred were used for the purpose of locating German snipers. When a sniper became particularly annoying and defied all attempts to locate him, the camouflage officer attached to the division would be summoned. Under his direction a papier-maché effigy of a soldier’s head, steel helmet and all, made so as to move up and down in wooden guides, would be set up in that part of the trench which the sniper had been annoying. At intervals the head would be slowly raised and lowered, so that from the outside of the trench it looked precisely like a soldier peering cautiously over the parapet. Sooner or later the hidden marksman would send a bullet through the careless Yankee’s brain. The neat hole drilled through the papier-maché showed the exact direction from which the bullet came, and by inserting in the hole a tiny telescope, no larger than a pencil, and looking through it by means of a periscope, the loophole from which the sniper was firing could be located. In one case a sniper was found to be firing through a hole bored in the heel of an old boot, apparently thrown carelessly onto the glacis.