[Illustration:  To see ourselves as others see us.]

The Germans have been credited with almost every conceivable atrocity that man is capable of perpetrating.  Whether these brutalities are perpetrated with the sanction of the German authorities, or are merely the expression of individual hatred, one is not prepared to state.  We have ceased to be angry with or alarmed at their tactics of intimidation.  We interpret every act of frightfulness as evidence of desperate conditions.  The only effect that such devilish methods have upon the men in the lines is to make them more determined to crush the mad and murderous spirit of militarism which holds the Hun in its merciless grip.

During ordinary trench warfare the enemy appears to concentrate his artillery fire on to the towns and villages at the back of our lines.  Villages have been practically eliminated and large towns reduced to a heap of ruins.  The destruction of these places is of no military consequence.  It is pure vandalism.

Bairnsfather’s sketches portraying the humour and coolness that such critical conditions create are in no particular exaggerated.  A certain building, prominently situated in a fairly large town, within easy range of the enemy guns, was being used as B.H.Qs.  It afforded accommodation for about twelve officers and as many other ranks.  The outskirts of the town had been subjected to severe shelling during the day.  Towards evening the shelling ceased, but commenced again about midnight; on this occasion the shells were directed more to the centre of the town.  Pieces of iron and a hail of shrapnel descended upon the roof of our billet.  All were awakened by the noise.  From different parts of the building the same query was advanced:  ’Are you all right?’ Then a hurried conference was held, and the C.O. decided that discretion was the better part of valour.  With the aid of electric torches we collected our blankets, etc., and descended to the cellar.  Everybody was cheerful.  The report of the guns somewhere along the enemy’s lines was heard distinctly, and we would wait for the swish of the shells as they hurtled through the air.  Almost simultaneously with the swish would come the crash followed by the sound of breaking glass and falling bricks, and involuntarily we exclaimed in chorus, ‘Another one in.’  We thought of the poor devils who may have been in the vicinity where the shell exploded, and various expressions of sympathy escaped from our lips.  Almost immediately on reaching the cellar, there was a terrific explosion, and one of the chimneys of the building crashed into the cellar.  Gradually we lost interest and became almost indifferent to what was going on.  One by one we repaired to our improvised beds on the floor.  Sometimes one would have difficulty in wooing the goddess of sleep, and his persistency in asking questions was exceeded only by the annoyance experienced by those to whom the questions were addressed.  The usual question of the sleepless individual is ‘Where did that one land?’ and the answer with some accompanying adjectives is invariably, ’I am more concerned about where the next one will land.’