In the handling of the Coloured Labour Units there were naturally many new and occasionally surprising things to be learnt by the British soldiers directing them.  A party of Nagas, for instance, were among the Indian Labour Units.  “They were savages from a country which has only recently been brought thoroughly under British rule,” writes an officer of the A.G.’s department.  “Their pastime is head-hunting, and their ‘uniform’ when at home is that bestowed on them by Nature.  They were extraordinarily cheerful, willing workers, and gave no trouble at all.  The trouble of providing the special kind of food which in general the natives of India require, was entirely absent in the case of the Nagas.  They have a strong liking for rats, and the only food they object to is monkeys.  A company of Nagas, about May, 1917, after the advance at Arras in April, were sent up to somewhere near Boisleux to bury dead horses.  The dead horses were disposed of—­but not by burial.  And in addition an Infantry Brigade in the neighbourhood had soon to mourn the loss of all their dogs.”

The Chinese were a constant source of amusement and interest to the British.  All that neatness and delicacy of finger which is shown in Chinese art and hand-work, the infinite pains, the careful finish which the Chinaman inherits from his age-long, patient past, were to be seen even in the digging of trenches.  Their defence lines were a marvel of finish, in spite of the fact that in hard manual labour they were ahead of any other unit—­shifting, often, 240 cubic feet of soil per day, per man.  As porters, too, they were beyond rivalry; and their contempt for the German prisoners’ capacity in this direction was amusing.  A Chinese coolie, watching two prisoners handle a stack of cased goods, could not at last contain himself.  He walked up to them, saying:  “Hun no damn good,” and proceeded to show them how it should be done.  The stolidity of the Chinaman is generally proof against surprise, but some of those coming from the backwoods of Northern China were occasionally bewildered and overwhelmed when set down amid the amazing and to them terrifying wonders of the “back” of a European Army.  One company of such men arrived at their appointed camp, and the next day there was a fight with enemy aeroplanes overhead.  One of the poor coolies was so terrified that he went and hanged himself, and the rest could only be pacified with great difficulty.  On the other hand, a flying officer once offered a ride to a Chinese ganger who, with his men, had been doing some work on an aerodrome for the R.A.F.  “The ganger went up with glee; and the pilot’s feelings may be imagined when, at a good height, he looked round and saw the ganger standing up, as happy as could be, looking over the edge and pointing down to the camp where his company lived, and other landmarks he was able to recognise.”

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Of the noble army of women, who, since 1917, have formed part of that great force behind the fighting lines I have been rapidly sketching—­what shall one say but good and grateful things?