I have seen demonstrated something which I had heard but never believed, namely that a shell can land so close that its proximity saves one, the eclats going over one's head. Shells play queer tricks at times. Three cars were standing in a row, one with two wounded. A shell landed near and the concussion blew whole panels out of each car and killed the two men. The remarkable part is that neither the cars nor men were actually hit by anything but dirt. Nowadays the Germans seldom send over waves of gas. They seem to prefer to send in hundreds of gas shells. These have the same whistle as the high explosives but do not explode with a loud noise. It is more like the opening of a gigantic ginger ale bottle. They do a lot of damage, for they often catch one unawares. They will pick out a hollow and just drench it with gas shells; some smell like garlic and others like mustard. We have found it impossible to drive at night with masks on, especially those of us who wear glasses, for they immediately fog up. All of us dread these shells, much preferring to take our chance with the high explosive. A soldier was telling me of a new gas that they send in by shells. Wherever there is a perspiration on the body it forms an acid which gives a very bad burn. The men suffer most around the necks, under the arms and on the hands. Altogether, this has been a tremendously interesting period. The aerial activity has been intense, there being lots of fights and numerous captive balloons brought down. The Germans have a nasty habit of coming over at night, flying low and turning their mitrailleuse on the roads which they know are crowded with wagons carrying material. By a lucky shot the other day the Germans started a fire in a small munitions depot quite close to us. I have seen displays of fireworks, but this had them all beaten with a four hours' display. Some of the abris up front are perfect marvels of safety and comfort and I shall try and give you an idea of one. One side of a solid stone hill had been used before the war as a quarry. This particular side happened to be away from the Boche. It has been so tunnelled that one walks through cave after cave with plenty of head room and spacious rooms. Everywhere there is plenty of light supplied by an electric generator and one finds a wonderfully complete and clean operating room. Remember this is all within a mile and a half of the front-line trenches, which in modern warfare is a short distance. The wounded get splendid treatment; but of course stretchers take the place of beds, for it is by no means a hospital. They can comfortably take care of 200 men and, mind you, all of this has been cut out of solid rock. At such a post we get the men and take them back to the field hospital, where they may again be sorted for transport to the hospitals further back.