Any one knows that if frightened in the dark (we were not frightened, of course; only a little nervous), the worst thing to do is to keep the eyes on one spot.  Then one begins to see things.  It is not necessary to be a soldier, and it is not necessary to go to the front line in France to make sure of that statement.  Stare ahead into the dark anywhere and something will move.

We had our eyes set, and we peppered away.  An English officer strolled by, and addressed a fellow near me.  “What the ... what the blinkety-blank are you shooting at?”

“Me, sir ... m-me, sir?  Germans, sir....”  And he went on pumping bullets from his old Ross.  The officer smiled.

For myself, I was detailed for guard.  I stood there on the firestep with my body half exposed.  I did not feel very comfortable.  I thought if I could get any other job to do, I would like it better.  The longer I stayed, the more certain I became that I would be killed that night.  I did not want to be killed.  I thought it would be a dreadful thing to be killed the first night in.  A few bullets had come fairly close—­within a yard or two of my head.  I determined there and then, should opportunity offer, I would not stay on guard a minute longer than I could help.

My chance came sooner than I had hoped for.  I hadn’t realized, what I discovered after a few more turns in the trenches, that guard duty is the easiest job there is.  I was eager for a change, and when I heard an English sergeant call out:  “I want a Canadian to go on listening-post duty,” I hopped down from my little perch and volunteered:  “I’ll go, Sergeant.  Take me.”

I had my job transferred in a few minutes.  I honestly did not know the duty for which I was wanted.  I knew there was a ration back in the town.  I had a vague idea that we would go back to the town for more bread or something of the kind.

I had heard of an outpost, but a listening-post was a new one on me.  These were very early days in the war.  The Imperial soldiers had recently established this new system, and as yet it was not a matter of common knowledge.

This war is either so old-fashioned in its methods or so new-fashioned—­in my opinion it is both—­that it is continuously changing.  The soldier may be drilled well in his own land, if he comes from overseas; he may be additionally trained in England; he may have a couple of weeks at the base in France, but it is all the same—­when he reaches the front line trenches there will have been a change, an improvement, in some thing or other.  It may be but a detail, it may be but a new name for an old familiar job, but changed it is.

The best soldier in the fighting to-day is the type of man who can adapt himself to anything.  He must have initiative; he must have resource; he must have individuality; he must be a distinct and complete unit in himself, ready for any emergency and any new undertaking.

I started promptly to hike down the communication trench, following back the way we had come.  An English private soldier was detailed to go on listening-post with me.  Again, the raw soldier is never left to his own devices on first coming in.  He is given the support of a veteran on all occasions, unless under some very special condition.