hen I was on my way to place a cross over my son's grave in
the cemetery at Tara Hill. By this time, the grass was green, the
trenches were filling up and in the cloudless blue sky larks were
singing. The impression of dreariness was passing away, and the wounds
on the breast of nature were being healed.

Our life at Bruay as usual was exceedingly pleasant, and the men
thoroughly enjoyed the beauty and the freshness of the country. Games
and sports were indulged in and the nightly entertainments in the
theatre given by our concert party were most enjoyable.

I shall never forget the happy rides on Dandy down the roads and
across the fields to the various battalions and artillery brigades. At
every turn I would meet men whom I knew, and to shake hands with those
glorious lads who had done such great things for the world was an
honour and a privilege. In looking back to that time faces and places
come before me, and I feel once again the warm spring winds over the
fields of France, and see the quaint old villages of Houdain, Ruitz
and Hallicourt where our various battalions were billetted. Sometimes,
at exalted moments, I had meals with generals in their comfortable
quarters; sometimes with company officers; sometimes with the non-coms,
but I think the most enjoyable were those that I took with the men in
dirty cook-houses. With a dish-cloth they would wipe off some old box
for a chair, another for a table; then, getting contributions of
cutlery, they would cook me a special dinner and provide me with a
mess-tin of strong hot tea. When the meal was over and cigarettes had
been lighted, general conversation was indulged in, and there would be
talks of home, of war experiences, and many discussions of religion
and politics. One question which was asked me again and again in
trenches and dugouts and billets was--"Are we winning the war?" It may
be hard for people at home to realize how little our men knew of what
was happening. The majority of them never saw the newspapers, and of
course the monotony of our life and the apparent hopelessness of
making any great advance was a puzzle to them. I never failed to take
the question seriously and give them, as far as I was able, a general
idea of the aspect of the war on the various fronts. In order to be
able to do this I read "The Times" daily with great care. It was (p. 181)
really the only paper that one could depend on, and its marvellous
influence on the conduct of the cam