(I can't vouch for the truth of the last line.)

One day when up at the front we attended part of a concert given by the
Observation Balloon Section in a barn, candles stuck in bottles the only
illuminations; we were however obliged to leave early to go on to the
trenches. Outside in the moonlight, which was almost as light as day, we
found the men busy sharpening their bayonets.

Another day up at Bourbourg, where we had gone for a ride, on a precious
afternoon off, we saw the first camouflaged field hospital run by
Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland, for the Belgians--the tents were weird
and wonderful to behold, and certainly defied detection from a distance.

Heasy and I were walking down the _Rue_ one afternoon, which was the
Bond Street of this town, when the private detective aforementioned came
up and asked to see our identification cards. These we were always
supposed to carry about with us wherever we went. Besides the hospital
stamp and several others, it contained a passport photo and signature.
Of course we had left them in another pocket, and in spite of
protestations on our part we were requested to proceed to the citadel or
return to hospital to be identified. To our mortification we were
followed at a few yards by the detective and a soldier! Never have I
felt such an inclination to take to my heels. As luck would have it, tea
was in progress in the top room, and they all came down _en masse_ to
see the two "spies." The only comfort we got, as they all talked and
laughed at our expense, was to hear one of the detectives softly
murmuring to himself, "Has anyone heard of the Suffragette movement
here?"

We learnt later that Boche spies disguised in our uniform had been seen