Personally I hate poking around in the broad daylight in this flat country, but as I wanted to see the position where the gas was used and did not want to wait until night, and as the Colonel was perfectly agreeable, I suggested that we should proceed forthwith to the positions. Before starting we were told that up to a few weeks ago no one ever used the road in the daytime, because of its exposure to rifle and artillery fire. “But now,” as the Colonel said, “for some reason or other they are not shooting at individuals. Probably they are saving their ammunition for Galicia. So if we walk apart we shall not be in much danger. Anyway a man or two would be hard to hit with rifle fire, and their artillery is rather poor here, and even if they fire at us I think we shall not be killed.” We thanked him for his optimism and all started off down the road that led to the positions. In view of his suggestion about individuals being safe, I was not particularly happy when five officers who had nothing else to do joined us. The first half mile of the road led down an avenue of trees which effectively screened us. After that the trees stopped and the great white road, elevated about 5 feet above the surrounding country, impressed me as being the most conspicuous topographical feature that I had seen in Poland. There was not a bit of brush as big as a tooth-pick to conceal our party walking serenely down the highway. After we had got about 200 yards on this causeway the Colonel stopped and pointed with his stick at a group of red brick buildings. “The Germans were there,” translated the interpreter. “My,” I ejaculated in enthusiasm at the idea that they had gone, “when did we retake the position?” “Oh,” replied the interpreter officer, “not yet. They are still there.” “Ah!” I said, lighting a cigarette, that my interest might not seem too acute, “I should think they could see us.” The linguist spoke a few words to the Colonel and then replied, “Oh, yes, every move we make, but the Colonel thinks they will not shoot.” I looked over at the brick buildings, behind which were the German artillery positions, and I could swear they were not 2,000 yards away, while a line of dirt nearer still showed the infantry trenches. For myself I felt as large as an elephant, and to my eyes our party seemed as conspicuous as Barnum’s circus on parade. However we continued our afternoon stroll to the reserve trenches, where a soldier or two joined our group. Five or six hundred yards up the road was the barricade thrown across, held by the first line. An occasional crack of a rifle reminded us that the look-outs in our trenches were studying the movements in the German trenches a few hundred yards beyond. Finally we left the road and came over a field and into the rear of our own position, and to the scene of the German gas attacks four or five days before.