There are days, when fighting at close quarters, that both sides feel
pretty good. The morning will be bright, and we may open the proceedings by
trying to sing German songs, and they will join in by singing British airs,
but always in a sarcastic manner, after putting words to them that I dare
not write.

On the first day of July, which is Dominion or Confederation Day, the
Germans began by singing to a certain Eastern Canadian regiment the first
verse of our national anthem, _O! Canada_. When they got through, they
politely asked the young braves of this regiment to sing the second verse.
The Canadian boys sent over a few bombs instead, for they did not know the
words of the second verse! Not to know the second verse seems to be one of
the idiosyncrasies of the peoples of all nations, bar the German!

Should we get tired of singing, we would shout across to the enemy
trenches. We would ask pertinent questions about their commanders and
impertinent ones about the affairs of their nation. One thing I can say for
Hans--he is never slow in answering. His repartee may be clumsy, but it is
prompt and usually effective.

We would inquire after the health of old "Von Woodenburg," old "One
O'clock," the "Clown Prince," or "One Bumstuff." Hans would take this in a
jocular way, slamming back something about Sir Wilfrid Laurier, Lloyd
George, or Sir Sham Shoes, but when we really wanted to get Fritz's goat we
would tease him about the Kaiser.

We would shout "_Gott strafe der Kaiser!_" That would put them up in the
air higher than a balloon. We would feel like getting out and hitting one
another, but we dare not even raise a finger because a sniper would take it
off. But after a lull there is always a storm, so before many minutes a