psalm-singing, mourners'-bench stuff for him. He believed in his
Christianity like a man; he was ready to fight for his belief like a man;
he cared for us like a father, and stood beside us in the mornings as we
drank our stimulant. Again, I repeat if a man is found drunk while on
active service, he is liable to court martial and death. A few years'
training of this kind will make the biggest pre-war drunkard come back home
a sober man.

Each soldier carries into the trenches with him sufficient coke and wood to
last for his four days in. Upon the brazier he cooks his own meals. For the
first few months we were unable to place our braziers on the ground; they
would have sunk into the mud. If we attempted to cook anything we would
stick a bayonet into a sandbag and hang the brazier on it, then cook in our
mess tins over that.

To-day there are dugouts, trench platforms and other conveniences which
simplify the domestic arrangements of the trenches to a marvelous degree.

A soldier is at liberty to cook his own rations by himself, but as a rule
we all chum in together. We may all take a hand in the cooking, or we may
appoint a section cook for a day or for a week, according to his especial
facility.

After the rum ration we receive some tea and sugar, lots of bully beef and
biscuits. The bully beef is corned beef and has its origin, mysterious to
us, in Chicago, Illinois, or so we believe. It is quite good. But you can
get too much of a good thing once too often. So sometimes we eat it, and
sometimes we use the unopened tins as bricks and line the trenches with
them. Good solid bricks, too! We get soup powders and yet more soup
powders. We get cheese that is not cream cheese, and we get a slice of raw