way, and you, who were carrying it on eastwards, ever eastward.
The knowledge stirred something within you and you were glad.

The Ten Hundred swung out of the "suburbs" up the long incline of Mount
St. Quentin, travelled a few hundred yards along the crest and came to
a halt near a line of tents. At no point in the sky was there any
indication of enemy airmen, nor from the line did much rattle of distant
guns disturb the quiet of the day. From the concussion of some far-off
muffled explosion the earth trembled slightly; but these visitations, at
lengthy intervals, caused little comment. From 12 to 4.30 p.m. sleep was
compulsory. No man or N.C.O. was permitted to be seen outside his tent
or hut until dusk fell, and with it the command to fall in for the long
march northward to Equancourt.

Along one perpetual straight road, lined on either side with endless
rows of weird, sighing trees whose tops converged in faint outline
against the sky at an ever distant point; along one continual rough
surface of hard, slippery cobble paving an almost tail-less column of
marching troops, rumbling artillery and jingling transport crawled on
through the darkness. It went hard with the Normans that night. Night
and the silence, the mystery. Only the ring of many feet and the neigh
of a startled horse. On, ever onward to the Unknown that awaits. Aye.
Tommy, worn, rugged, rough Tommy, straining forward beneath the burden
that was yours--how little others know how staunch and true beat that
sturdy heart throbbing under its hard exterior. Step by step; left,
right, left; rigid and mechanical, controlled by a mind that ceased to
act and fell prey to wild fancies. You could hear them: the cooling
whispers of a sea upon your Sarnia's shore ... dear little country!
God's own Isle! Mental anguish and physical pain. And yet you came
up--smiling.

Monday passed quietly at Equancourt, although one or two Fritzy shells
bursting some few miles away with the unmistakeable kru-ump of his
heavies set the brain working and conjured up memories.

B. Company, without the customary O.C. (Captain Hutchinson, one of the
most popular officers among the men) of Company-Sergeant-Major "Tug"
Wilson (another splendid fellow) were temporarily under the command of a
Buff officer (Chapman). A., C. and D. commands were unchanged.
13 Platoon, so fictitiously unlucky(?), was probably the most "pally"
combination in the Battalion; both N.C.O.'s and men were on excell