Two Germans had a pop at me one day when I was crossing a ploughed field, but they might as well have tried to shoot the moon. I have had some narrow escapes from shells--they were German shells, or I should not be writing this now. We laugh at them sometimes. The Germans don’t like steel--although we have not done much in that line. We play on a different line to that. We like to catch ’em napping, and we have done it, too, but, of course, they have had our fellows the same. It would make you laugh to see how we dodge the shells and nip under cover for all we are worth. We had to scatter one night just when I was making some tea. I was just going to put the tea and sugar into the boiling water when bang they came just overhead, and I had to nip: _Corpl. Newman, Somerset Light Infantry_. “Fairly Well” While I am writing this letter I am cooking the dinner, boiling a piece of bacon we managed to get and potatoes. I have been elected cook on our car. I expect you will say it is just like me to be among the grub. Anyway, we are getting plenty of it now. We get our day’s rations every morning--one rasher of bacon, one tin of bully beef, one pot of jam (between five), a piece of cheese, so much tea and sugar, and so much bread, when we can get it; if we have not bread we get biscuits. We get plenty of potatoes out of the fields, and sometimes make what we call bully-beef stew. It is very nice, and consists of bully beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions--all boiled together. Sometimes we get fresh meat, so you see we are living fairly well: _Pte. Calvert, Army Service Corps_. Rained on We struck our tents this afternoon and then the rain came down. It is eight o’clock now and the rain is still steadily driving down. I suppose you imagine that you can picture the discomfort, but I bet you can’t. As a help, however, I will give you a few details. We have had to erect the tent in the pouring rain, which means that the floor-boards are soaked, and each one has to find a little dry oasis for himself, and there aren’t many dry places left when nine fellows have to be crowded in. Now the tent-cloth is soaked through and little streams of water are trickling across the floor, while miniature cascades are dancing merrily down the walls: _Lance-Corpl. J. W. James, Royal Fusiliers_. Quagmires and “Mug Racks”