Battalion occupied a huge cavern with others
branching off from it. I could hardly imagine more picturesque
surroundings for a military service. The candle flames twinkled like
stars in all directions in the murky atmosphere, and the singing of
the men resounded through the cave. Overhead was the town which the
enemy was shelling. In one of the caves we found the foundation of
what had been an old prison, with a date upon it of the 18th century.
It was very pleasant wandering down the passages, with a candle (p. 247)
stuck on the top of my steel helmet, and meeting everywhere old
friends who were glad of the temporary rest. Life there, however, was
very strange. One could not tell whether outside it was day or night.
I made my way back that afternoon by a passage which led out to one of
the Arras sewers, by the side of which there was a stone pavement
enabling one with a good flashlight to walk safely. The exit from the
sewer, which now consisted of a shallow stream of perfectly clear
water, led me up to a house in one of the streets, and thence by a car
I made my way to Warlus, and home to Fosseaux.

A few days afterwards our headquarters were moved up to Etrun, and
there we found ourselves crowded into the quaint little town. The
Chateau was our headquarters, and a tar-paper house which the
Engineers built for me under a spreading hawthorn tree became my home.
Etrun was a most interesting place historically. It had been the site
of a Roman camp where Valentinian had his headquarters in the 4th
century. The large mound, or vallum, which the Romans had thrown up to
protect themselves from the attacks of the German tribes, is now a
thickly wooded hill, pierced by the road which connects the village
with the Arras highway. The grounds of the Chateau were most
delightful, and before the French Revolution the house had been a
convent. In the garden was the recumbent stone effigy, overgrown with
moss, of one of the sisters. The most beautiful thing about the place
is the clear stream, wide and deep, which comes from underground and
flows over sparkling white pebbles through the green meadows to the
river Scarpe. This stream was evidently the source of attraction to
the Romans, who always made their camps where there was a plentiful
supply of running water. The garden on one side was built up in stone
terraces along which were gravel walks, where, no doubt, the nuns of
old enjoyed their holy meditations. In the stream, as