After a week in Ypres Salient in February 1915 we were back at a place
called Vlamertinghe "resting," i.e. providing the usual working parties
at night. Going out with one of these parties, well loaded with barbed
wire, poles, etc., our rifles slung on our shoulders, things in general
were fairly quiet. A stray bullet struck the piling swivel of the rifle
of "Darkie," the man in front of me. "Missed my head by the skin of its
teeth," said "Darkie." "Good job the old Dutch wasn't here. She reckons
she's been unlucky ever since she set eyes on me--and there's another
pension for life gone beggin'."--_B. Wiseman (late Oxford and Bucks
L.I.), 12 Ursula Street, Battersea, S.W.11._