Nicholson became so interested in a view through a periscope that I took a picture of him while thus engaged. A genial acquaintance in the line offered to get a similar photograph of me. So I took the periscope, waving it slightly back and forth, and carefully inspecting the German trench forty yards distant. I detected a movement on the enemy side of the line. Steadying my periscope, I focussed my attention on the moving object. As I did so, "Ping! smash!" came a bullet right through the top of my periscope. "A clean bull," said Nicholson, beside me. "Are you hit?" I had been about to call his attention, when the sniper scored, with the result that a shower of broken glass fell into my open mouth. I was in great fear of swallowing some of it. Nicholson, seeing me dance about and spying a fleck of blood on my lip, thought I had been hit in the mouth by a glancing bullet. He proffered help, I prancing about, gesticulating that I was all right, spitting out glass, but afraid to speak until I had cleared the last piece of broken mirror. The Captain entirely misunderstood my dumb show, and we caused some merriment among the troopers near by until I managed to eject the final bit and could explain that I was not in the least hurt. When I learned that one officer had suffered a badly cut eyeball, threatening the loss of his sight, and another had been seriously wounded in the jaw and neck by just such an incident as the one I had experienced, I was thankful to have escaped injury. The "trench stoop" was astonishingly fatiguing. Covered from head to foot with yellow sticky mud, and very tired, we started to walk to the Menin Road. The snipers were more alert than usual, and more than one close call kept me from thinking of my weariness. Before we reached our car the German batteries shelled madly at the very point we were to pass, but considerately stopped firing by the time we approached the spot where the shells were falling. One morning "Mouse" Tomkinson and Hardress Lloyd had walked down to Zillebeke, where folk rarely went in the daytime, to inspect some of the graves in the Zillebeke churchyard. Hardress Lloyd's brother-in-law, Colonel Wilson, of the Blues, was buried there. I promised Captain Lloyd that if I could get off to do so, I would go down to Zillebeke and take a photograph of Colonel Wilson's grave. Hearing of my projected trip, Lord Loch, who was at that time G.S.O. 1, on the staff of General Bulfin, commanding 28th Division, asked "Babe" Nicholson to obtain for him, if possible, a picture of the grave of Lieutenant Gordon-Lennox, which is also in Zillebeke. Hardress Lloyd and Tomkinson told us they had been seen in the churchyard by the German artillery observers, who had commenced shelling. I was warned, therefore, that any photography I wished to do in that locality must needs be done quickly.