s had come as such
a shock, that all we did was to stare at each other with the words:

"My God! Corporal G---- gone! It's impossible."

One expects shells and death in the line, but three or four miles
behind it one grows accustomed, so to speak, to live in a fool's
paradise. We went round to see our casualties, and I found two of my
platoon, bandaged in the leg and arm, sitting in a group of their
pals, who were congratulating them on having got "soft Blighty ones."
The Company Quartermaster-Sergeant showed me a helmet, which was lying
outside the billet when the shells came over, with a triangular gash
in it, into which one could almost place one's fist. At the body of
Corporal G---- I could not bring myself to look. The poor fellow had
been terribly hit in the back and neck, and, I confess it openly, I
had not the courage, and felt that it would be a sacrilege, to gaze on
the mangled remains of one whom I had valued so much as an N.C.O. and
grown to like so much as a man during the last ten months.

Dark clouds were blowing over in an easterly direction; a cheerless
day added to the general gloom. We had a Company Officers' final
consultation on the plans for the morrow, after which I held an
inspection of my platoon, and gave out some further orders. On my
return to the billet W----k told me that the attack had been postponed
for two days owing to bad weather. Putting aside all thought of orders
for the time being, we issued out rum to the men, indulged in a few
"tots" ourselves, and settled down to a pleasant evening.

* * * * *

In a little courtyard on the evening of June 30 I called the old
platoon to attention for the last time, shook hands with the officers
left in reserve, marched off into the road, and made up a turning to
the left on to the Blue Track. We had done about a quarter of the
ground between Bayencourt and Sailly-au-Bois when a messenger hurried
up to tell me to halt, as several of the platoons of the L----
S---- had to pass us. We sat down by a large shell-hole, and the men
lit up their pipes and cigarettes and shouted jokes to the men of the
other regiment as they passed by.

It was a very peaceful evening--remarkably peaceful, now that the
guns were at rest. A light breeze played eastward. I sat with my face
towards the sunset, wondering a little if this was the last time that
I should see it. One often reads of this sensation in second-rate
novels. I must