or fifty yards. This is the w'y. 'Ere we are, 'ere the Boches are ... there
the boys are"--he flicked an expressive thumb backward. "Those Boches
thinks as 'ow they 'as to get to our trenches, but before they gets to our
trenches, they 'as to pass us ... they 'as to pass US ... see?"

I saw. "Say," I touched him gently, "a while before I joined up, I did the
hundred yards in eleven seconds flat ... those Boches may pass you
to-night, but never, on your life, will they pass me."

Tommy chuckled. He had been through it all himself. Every man has it the
first time that he goes on any of these dangerous duties. I can frankly say
I disliked the listening-post duty that first time. Nothing happened of
course. There was no killing, but it was nervy work. Later, in common with
other fellows, I was able to go on listening-post with the same nonchalance
as my first coster friend. It lies in whether one is used to the thing or
not. Nothing comes easy at first, especially in the trenches. Later on, it
is all in the day's work.

When our relief came we crawled back to our trench and spent the night in
our dugouts. Next day we got a change of rations. We had "Maconochie." "He"
is by way of a stew. Stew with a tin jacket. It bears the nomenclature of
its inventor and maker, although Maconochie's is a firm. This is an
English ration and after bully beef for weeks, it is a pleasant enough
change.

The weather was fine: clear overhead, blue sky and just a hint of frost,
though it was not very cold. After dinner the first day in the trenches, I
suddenly noticed an excitement among the English soldiers. We became
excited, too, and strained to see what was happening.