he Bapaume
road in trenches and dugouts, on a rise in the ground which was called
Tara Hill. By the side of the road was a little cemetery which had
been laid out by the British, and was henceforth to be the last
resting place of many Canadians. Our battalions were billeted in
different places in the damaged town, and in the brick-fields near by.
Our chief dressing station was in an old school-house not far from the
Cathedral. Albert must have been a pleasant town in pre-war days, but
now the people had deserted it and every building had either been
shattered or damaged by shells. From the spire of the Cathedral hung
at right angles the beautiful bronze image of the Blessed Virgin,
holding up her child above her head for the adoration of the world. It
seemed to me as if there was something appropriate in the strange
position the statue now occupied, for, as the battalions marched past
the church, it looked as if they were receiving a parting benediction
from the Infant Saviour.

The character of the war had now completely changed. For months and
months, we seemed to have reached a deadlock. Now we had broken
through and were to push on and on into the enemy's territory. As we
passed over the ground which had already been won from the Germans, we
were amazed at the wonderful dugouts which they had built, and the
huge craters made by the explosion of our mines. The dugouts were deep
in the ground, lined with wood and lighted by electric light. Bits of
handsome furniture, too, had found their way there from the (p. 137)
captured villages, which showed that the Germans must have lived in
great comfort. We were certainly glad of the homes they had made for
us, for our division was in the line three times during the battle of
the Somme, going back to Rubempre and Canaples when we came out for
the necessary rest between the attacks.

Looking back to those terrible days of fierce fighting, the mind is so
crowded with memories and pictures that it is hard to disentangle
them. How well one remembers the trips up the Bapaume road to La
Boisselle and Pozieres. The country rolled off into the distance in
vast billows, and bore marks of the fierce fighting which had occurred
here when the British made their great advance. When one rode out from
our rear headquarters at the end of the town one passed some brick
houses more or less damaged and went on to Tara Hill. There by the
wayside was a dressing station. On the hill itsel