s, the rattle
of windows, and the sound of breaking glass.

The following day we spent in cleaning our rifles, which were caked with
rust, and in washing our clothes. We had to put these, still wet, into
our packs, for at dusk we fell in, in column of route, along the village
street, when our officers told us what was before us. I remember how
vividly and honestly one of them described the situation.

"Listen carefully, men. We are moving off in a few moments, to take over
captured German trenches on the left of Loos. No one knows yet just how
the land lies there. The reports we have had are confused and rather
conflicting. The boys you are going to relieve have been having a hard
time. The trenches are full of dead. Those who are left are worn out with
the strain, and they need sleep. They won't care to stop long after you
come in, so you must not expect much information from them. You will have
to find out things for yourselves. But I know you well enough to feel
certain that you will. From now on you'll not have it easy. You will have
to sit tight under a heavy fire from the German batteries. You will have
to repulse counter-attacks, for they will make every effort to retake
those trenches. But remember! You're British soldiers! Whatever happens
you've got to hang on!"

We marched down a road nearly a foot deep in mud. It had been churned to
a thick paste by thousands of feet and all the heavy wheel traffic
incident to the business of war. The rain was still coming down steadily,
and it was pitch dark, except for the reflected light, on the low-hanging
clouds, of the flashes from the guns of our batteries and those of the
bursting shells of the enemy. We halted frequently, to make way for long
files of ambulances which moved as rapidly as the darkness and the awful
condition of the roads would permit. I counted twenty of them during one
halt, and then stopped, thinking of the pain of the poor fellows inside,
their wounds wrenched and torn by the constant pitching and jolting. We
had vivid glimpses of them by the light from flashing guns, and of the
Red Cross attendants at the rear of the cars, steadying the upper tiers
of stretchers on either side. The heavy Garrison artillery was by this
time far behind us. The big shells went over with a hollow roar like the
sound of an express train heard at a distance. Field artillery was
concealed in the ruins of houses on every side. The guns were firing at a
tremendous rate,