Have found a grave
In the haggard fields of No Man's Land.
By the foeman's reddened parapet
They lie with never a head-stone set,
But their dauntless souls march forward yet
In No Man's Land.
H. D'A. B.,
Major, 55th Division, B.E.F., France.
III
NEWS FROM NO MAN'S LAND
'No Man's Land' is that bit of ground six hundred yards, and sometimes only thirty yards, between our trenches and those of the enemy. Over this disputed area we 'strafe' each other night and day. There are often water-holes, even swamps, in No Man's Land, and both sides have a habit of draining trenches into it. Wild flowers and even garden flowers grow in this area, for it contains ruined farm-houses and orchards. Poppies red as blood, lilies white as snow, roses, and blue cornflowers are often seen there waving in the breeze, sometimes swaying before the hail of bullets from machine-guns.