ouds scudded over the sky, two companies moved forward, a
long line of shadowy forms, to act as a covering party while the
remaining half-battalion dug the new trench.

As we moved forward and lay down we could hear the thudding of the picks
as they were driven into the ground, and from somewhere in the darkness
ahead the plick-plock of the sniper began. Captain H----, our new
company commander, passed down the line to warn us to count our men and
see that all bayonets were fixed and magazines loaded.

The sniping increased, and a farmhouse ahead of us that had been
smouldering for some time burst into flame. Two colts that were
evidently confined near the blaze started to whinny and neigh, and a man
who had been hit began to curse vilely.

From somewhere in rear a battery of French "seventy-fives" opened up
with their ear-splitting reports, and we could see the outlines of the
ruined farm ahead of us silhouetted against the crimson flashes of their
bursting shrapnel. But of the enemy there was no sign--nothing but the
arching trail of the flares that shot up and the steady plick-plock of
the snipers. It was most trying.

It was nearly 2 o'clock before the trench was completed and we wakened
our shivering men to retire, for so exhausted were they that, despite
the cold and danger, many had dozed there on the body-strewn field with
one hand firmly grasping the rifle.

By this time traces of dawn began to show themselves in the eastern sky,
and the moon seemed to flood the whole country with light.

Platoon by platoon in Indian file we drew off the field, carefully
checking the count of our men as they passed until all were accounted
for. Then the march back to billets began. And such a march! Worn out by
the week's hard fighting, the older men staggered all over the road, all
but dropping out from sheer exhaustion. Nor were the new men in better
condition. Unaccustomed as yet to the weight of their packs, shaken by
shell fire, and in some cases still weak from the sickness of the rough
Channel passage, it was only sheer pride and the cruel taunts of the
older men that kept them in the ranks. And thus we straggled on past the
French outposts and over the Yser again, and on, on past the field we
had lain in all day, on through Brielen to Vlamertinghe, back to
billets. But the draft was broken in.

CHAPTER XI

RESERVE BILLETS

It was only the prospect of several days of comparative rest that held
us toget