One night after a very hard day in the trenches, when we were wet to the skin, we had lighted fires to dry our tunics, and were at it when we heard firing along our front, and then the Germans came at us like madmen. We had to tackle them in our shirt-sleeves. It was mainly bayonet work, and hard work at that. They were well supported by cavalry, who tried to ride us down in the dark, but we held our ground until reinforcements came, and then we drove them off with a fine rush of our cavalry and infantry. At one point there was a fine race between our battalion and one of the Lancer regiments as to which should get at the Germans first. We were handicapped a bit because we hadn’t horses, but we won in the end, and charged right into the German hordes with the bayonet. After that the Lancers came up, and there wasn’t much left for anybody else when the Germans were done with: _Private A. Tims_. One More River We got our orders early in the morning to get across the Aisne, and we had to turn out early. It was very cold, and there was a heavy rain; but we got our pipes set a-going, and we were all right then. When we got up the river the fun began. There were no bridges, but the Engineers had made some rafts. Six men got on each raft, and with the burden we were up to the knees in water, and we were hauled across to the other side by a rope. When we got to the other side we got it hotter than ever. Some time after this three of us were lying in a field. I was smoking my pipe, and my chum was puffing at a cigarette. The man next my chum hadn’t a match, and wanted a light badly, and he got up to get a “touch” from my chum. As soon as he rose the poor beggar was hit with a shell and killed: _Pte. Hamish, King’s Own Scottish Borderers_. A Revolver Story In the mad rush through the village Dodds was also shot badly in the leg, and the poor horse, which was carrying us two, was brought down. The result was that the two of us fell helpless to the ground, and we were immediately surrounded by a crowd of Germans, who yelled and acted like a lot of savages. We saw them tearing practically every bit of clothing from one of our poor chaps who had been killed, and in my own case they stripped me of everything but my trousers and shirt. They took from me the revolver that I had taken from a German officer, and one of them was about to strip me of my shirt when a funny thing occurred. I often laugh when I think of it. When I was looking up and trying to think as little as possible about my arm, who should stand above me but the captured German officer whose guard had been killed. He said, “You are the man who took my revolver. Let me have it back instantly.” I said that I had not got it, and that one of his own men had relieved me of it. “Then come with me,” he said, “and find the man who took it, and I shall have him shot.” I went around with him as a matter of form, but I was not having any: _Lance-Corpl. M. Nolan, Royal Scots Greys_. At the Fords