(p. 148)
time. The next morning the General sent me in his car to Albert, and
Colonel Ironside took me up to the chalk-pit where the 87th were
resting. They had suffered very heavy losses, and I heard the account
of my son's death. On the morning of October 21st, he was leading his
company and another to the attack on Regina Trench. They had advanced,
as the barrage lifted, and he was kneeling in a shell hole looking at
his watch waiting for the moment to charge again, when a machine gun
opened fire and he was hit in the head and killed instantly. As he
still kept kneeling looking at his watch, no one knew that anything
had happened. The barrage lifted again behind the German trench; still
he gave no sign. The Germans stood up and turned their machine-guns on
our men. Then the officer next in command went over to see what had
happened, and, finding my son dead, gave the order to advance.
Suffering heavy casualties, the men charged with determination and
took the trench, completely routing the enemy. When the battalion was
relieved the dead had to be left unburied, but several men volunteered
to go and get my son's body. This I would not hear of, for the
fighting was still severe, and I did not believe in living men risking
their lives to bring out the dead. I looked far over into the murky
distance, where I saw long ridges of brown land, now wet with a
drizzling rain, and thought how gloriously consecrated was that soil,
and how worthy to be the last resting place of those who had died for
their country. Resolving to come back later on when things were
quieter, and make my final search, I bid good-bye to the officers and
men of the battalion and was motored back to my Headquarters.

In the little church of Roellencourt hangs a crucifix which I gave the
Cure in memory of my son. It is near the chancel-arch in the place
which the old man chose for it. Some day I hope I may re-visit my kind
friends at the Presbytere and talk over the sad events of the past in
the light of the peace that has come through victory.

CHAPTER XIII. (p. 149)

OUR HOME AT CAMBLAIN L'ABBE.

_November and December, 1916._

From Roellencourt we moved up to our new headquarters in the Chateau
at Camblain l'Abbe, which, after we left it in December, was long the
home of the Canadian Corps. I had an Armstrong hut under the trees in
the garden, and after it was lined with green canvas, an