wo companies!"
There was nothing left to be said!

Once again it had been proved that attacks by daylight, unless supported
by masses of supports, are bound to fail.

The 2nd Canadian Brigade relieved us, marching in by one side of the
canal while we marched out along the other. We called across our best
wishes to them as we passed. We had, it is true, been heavily pounded,
but we were far from being depressed, though we might well have been.

Instead, as we passed an electric towing machine lying neglected along
the towpath, a man in the ranks behind asked his mate what they were
used for.

"Don't you know?" was the reply as he glanced at the broad-tyred wheels;
"why, they use them for rolling down the water in the canal after a
storm!"

It was in this mood we returned to billets.

[Illustration: APPROXIMATE LINE AFTER FESTUBERT AND GIVENCHY, 1915.]

CHAPTER XVII

NORTHWARD AGAIN

After Givenchy the Canadian Division rested for another week around the
outskirts of Bethune before starting its long tramp back to the northern
end of the line again.

But it was far from being a week of idleness, and hard drilling was the
order of the day. Great stress was laid on bomb-throwing, and, in spite
of the heavy casualties the bombing sections had suffered, there was no
dearth of volunteers for the "Suicide Club," as the bombers termed
themselves. The men, as well as the officers, recognised the value of
this weapon, old as the use of gunpowder itself, but now reinstated to
greater importance than ever before.

So we started northward, a very uneventful and tiring march, our first
stop being at Neuf Berquin, where we rested a day.

The march had been very fatiguing; it was the latter end of June, and
"sunny France" had been living up to her reputation, and even the
nights, in which we marched for the sake of coolness and concealment,
were most oppressive. And it was in weather like that that the famous
"First Seven Divisions" fought and marched twenty-five or thirty miles,
dug in and fought again, only to have again to retire!

And we were only averaging fifteen miles a march!

Our next halt was at Noote-Broome, a mere hamlet, where we held church
service and then marched straight into the trenches.

This was a new area for us. We had grown so accustomed to shifting from
one part of the line to another that we had already nicknamed ourselves
the "Canadian Foot Cavalry."

However, we were fated to rest