ply columns belonged to my own division, one small
cog in the British fighting machine.

We advanced toward the war zone in easy stages. It was intensely hot, and
the rough, cobbled roads greatly increased the difficulty of marching. In
England we had frequently tramped from fifteen to twenty-five miles in a
day without fatigue. But the roads there were excellent, and the climate
moist and cool. Upon our first day's march in France, a journey of only
nine miles, scores of men were overcome by the heat, and several died.
The suffering of the men was so great, in fact, that a halt was made
earlier than had been planned, and we bivouacked for the night in the
fields.

Life with a battalion on the march proceeds with the same orderly routine
as when in barracks. Every man has his own particular employment. Within
a few moments, the level pasture land was converted into a busy community
of a thousand inhabitants. We made serviceable little dwellings by lacing
together two or three waterproof ground-sheets and erecting them on
sticks or tying them to the wires of the fences. Latrines and refuse pits
were dug under the supervision of the battalion medical officer. The sick
were cared for and justice dispensed with the same thoroughness as in
England. The day's offenders against discipline were punished with what
seemed to us unusual severity. But we were now on active service, and
offenses which were trivial in England were looked upon, for this reason,
in the light of serious crimes.

Daily we approached a little nearer to our goal, sleeping, at night, in
the open fields or in the lofts of great rambling farm-buildings. Most of
these places had been used for soldiers' billets scores of times before.
The walls were covered with the names of men and regiments, and there
were many penciled suggestions as to the best place to go for a basin of
"coffay oh lay," as Tommy called it. Every roadside cottage was, in fact,
Tommy's tavern. The thrifty French peasant women kept open house for
soldiers. They served us with delicious coffee and thick slices of French
bread, for the very reasonable sum of twopence. They were always friendly
and hospitable, and the men, in turn, treated them with courteous and
kindly respect. Tommy was a great favorite with the French children. They
climbed on his lap and rifled his pockets; and they delighted him by
talking in his own vernacular, for they were quick to pick up English
words and phrases. Th