of Massachusetts.

From then on we did very little firing, but a great deal of work. The firing was mainly harrassing, or sniping, directed from some observation post; the work, construction of dugouts and improvements of the gun pits. From 5.30, when we dragged ourselves out of bed, till darkness fell, rest was unknown. We stumbled down hill with our gas masks on, took them off, and trudged up again, carrying sandbags, timbers, iron, or ammunition. This system was very efficient for we never wasted a breath. We simply never had any! This morning gas drill was supplementary to the regular gas drill and inspection of masks which came later in the day. The French regarded us with amazement akin to horror. That any sane beings should do such an amount of unnecessary work was to them inconceivable. Indeed, we wondered at times if we had not joined a labor battalion by mistake. We did but little firing, we never smelt gas outside the gas chamber, we suffered no real casualties. It was truly a "bonne petite guerre" except for the work, work, work.

Despite our apparent madness, the French liked us. In turn, we found the French soldiers exceedingly likeable, far different from the civilians around Coetquidan. They had plenty of "Pinard," the red wine issued to the French army; we had plenty of tobacco. Over "Pinard" and cigarettes, stories of the war and of America passed back and forth.

In a dugout in Ostel, hidden beneath a pile of rubbish, we found a French army co-operative store. All along the front these exchanges have been estab­

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