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The Spy.
The Spy. 

Western Mail, Thursday 13 July 1933, page 2

The Spy.

In January, 1916 we were holding the line in front of Armetieres, and one morning at stand-to an artillery observation officer, a signaller and myself had crawled out to a forward sap along a more or less obliterated communication trench. Our job was to observe artillery fire on the enemy wire, it being the intention to raid during the following night. My particular duty was to train our machine guns on the broken line and prevent repair work until zero hour for the raid.

Casual shelling had continued for an hour or so, and we were all squatting with our eyes glued to periscopes when out of the blue came "Good morning!" I turned, and, seeing an immaculate, red-tabbed brass hat, left him to the artilleryman, who replied "Good morning, sir!"

"What are you doing?" asked the staff.

"Opening wire for a raid, sir,” replied the gunner.

"What are you using, time or percussion shrapnel?"

"Percussion, sir."

"Doing all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well! Good morning."

Chorus: "Good morning, sir."

After some time we returned to find the front line in a turmoil - everyone agog with excitement, word having, come through that a suspected spy, dressed as a British staff officer, was last seen proceeding to our part of the area!

"Had we seen anything of him?" A capture meant at least a fortnight's leave! We kicked-ourselves pretty severely, and were little consoled by a rumour that the colonel on his morning round had spoken to the brass hat.

The raid: was definitely off.

Y.B., Moorine Rock.