It was during the month of October that we first learnt of the new weapon served out to our flying corps. It consists of an arrow-shaped missile of steel like a pointed lead pencil. A mechanical device spreads these missiles out as they fall from the aeroplane, so that they cover an area of about 200 square yards when dropped from a height of 500 yards. From this height the arrow of death will pass right through a man's body.
"Eye-witness" tells us that "an easy capture was effected by an engineer telegraph linesman. Returning in the dark after repairing some air lines which had been cut by shell fire, he was passing through a wood, when his horse shied at some figures crouching in a ditch. He called out, 'Come out of it!' whereupon to his surprise three German cavalrymen emerged and surrendered. He marched them back to his headquarters."
An action fought near a village less than a mile to the north of Armentières was brought about by a pig. The British and German trenches were so near that the soldiers talked with each other, made jokes, and even learnt the names of their opponents. One day a pig walked on to the strip of land between the trenches. British and Germans alike shot at him, and down he fell. Both sides wanted the pig, for roast pig is a pleasant change from the dull and tasteless round of ordinary rations. But how was he to be got in? To go out to fetch him meant instant death. Five daring soldiers lost their lives over that pig, and still he lay unreclaimed between the trenches.
There was a big fellow in the German trench named Hans Müller. He crept out of his trench in the night, tied a rope to the pig's leg, and crawled back to his trench unhurt. The Germans waited till morning came, so that the British might see their triumph, and then began hauling in the pig. It was a bitter moment for the British, and the Germans did not forget to rejoice loudly in their success. But the British had their revenge: two nights later they took that German trench with the bayonet. That is how they made things even.
The dispatch rider already quoted tells us that spies were very busy in and behind our lines. "I heard a certain story, which I give as an illustration and not as a fact. There was once an artillery brigade billeted in a house two miles or so behind the lines. All the inhabitants of the house had fled, for the village had been heavily bombarded. Only a girl had had the courage to remain, and to act as hostess to the British. She was fresh and charming, clever at cooking, and modest in manner. Now, it was noticed that our guns could not be moved without the Germans knowing their new position. No transports or ammunition limbers were safe from their guns. The girl was told of the trouble; she was angry and sympathetic, and swore that through her the spy would be discovered. She spoke the truth."
One night a man, who had his suspicions, saw the girl go into a cellar as if to bring up coal. He followed her, and, groping about in the dark, touched a wire. Quickly running his hand along it, he came to a telephone. The truth was now out. The Germans were receiving their information from the girl, who posed as the friend of the British. In a few hours she suffered the usual fate of spies.