Then there is Zacchæus. We call him by this name because he lives up
a tree. There is a row of pollarded willows standing parallel to our
front, a hundred and fifty yards away. Up, or in, one of these lives
Zacchæus. We have never seen him, but we know he is there; because
if you look over the top of the parapet he shoots you through the
head. We do not even know which of the trees he lives in. There are
nine of them, and every morning we comb them out, one by one, with a
machine-gun. But all in vain. Zacchæus merely crawls away into the
standing corn behind his trees, and waits till we have finished. Then
he comes back and tries to shoot the machine-gun officer. He has not
succeeded yet, but he sticks to his task with gentle persistence. He is
evidently of a persevering rather than vindictive disposition.
Then there is Unter den Linden. This celebrated thoroughfare is an old
communication-trench. It runs, half-ruined, from the old German trench
in our rear, right through our own front line, to the present German
trenches. It constitutes such a bogey as the Channel Tunnel scheme once
was: each side sits jealously at its own end, anticipating hostile
enterprises from the other. It is also the residence of "Minnie." But
we will return to Minnie later.
The artillery of both sides, too, contributes its mite. There is a dull
roar far in the rear of the German trenches, followed by a whirring
squeak overhead. Then comes an earth-shaking crash a mile behind us.
We whip round, and there, in the failing evening light, against the
sunset, there springs up the silhouette of a mighty tree in full
foliage. Presently the silhouette disperses, drifts away, and----
"The coals is hame, right enough!" comments Private Tosh.
Instantly our guns reply, and we become the humble spectators of an
artillery duel. Of course, if the enemy gets tired of "searching" the
countryside for our guns and takes to "searching" our trenches instead,
we lose all interest in the proceedings, and retire to our dugouts,
hoping that no direct hits will come our way.
But guns are notoriously erratic in their time-tables, and fickle in
their attentions. It is upon Zacchæus and Unter den Linden--including
Minnie--that we mainly rely for excitement.