in the war annals of 1916 for an officers' tea-rooms, where
three pretty daughters of the house acted as waitresses.

Excitement was in the air. Marshal Foch's bold strategy at Soissons had
had dramatic effect. The initiative was passing again to the Allies. A
faint rumour had developed into an official fact. There was to be a big
attack on our immediate front. Yet few of us dared to conceive the mark
in history that August 8 was to make. All we really hoped for was a
series of stout resolute operations that would bring Germany's great
offensive to a deadlock.

Along the road that wound past the quarry--offshoot of a main route
that will for ever be associated with the War--there flowed a ceaseless
stream of ammunition waggons. "This goes on for three nights.... My
Gad, they're getting something ready for him," remarked our new
adjutant to me. Gallant, red-faced, roaring old Castle had been
transferred to command the Small Arms Ammunition section of the D.A.C.,
where his love of horses was given full play, and had already gained
his section many prizes at our Horse Show a week before.

Rain descended in stinging torrents, and the Australian colonel and his
adjutant, who would leave as soon as they heard that our batteries had
relieved theirs, looked out disgustedly. I called for a bottle of
whisky, and when the Australian adjutant toasted me with "Here's to the
skin of your nose," I gathered that his gloom was lessening. The soup
came in and we started dinner.

Talk ran upon the extraordinary precautions taken to surprise the
enemy. Field-guns were not to be moved up to their battle positions
until the night before the attack. There was to be no digging in of
guns, no earth was to be upturned. Reconnaissance likely to come under
enemy observation had to be carried out with a minimum of movement. As
few officers and men as was possible were to be made aware of the date
and the scope of the operation. On a still night the creaking rattle of
ammunition waggons on the move may be heard a very long way off. To
prevent this noise of movement wheel tyres were lapped with rope; the
play of the wheels was muffled by the use of leather washers. Straw had
even to be laid on some of the roads--as straw is laid in front of
houses where the seriously sick are lying.

"I think," said the Australian signalling officer, "that the funniest
thing is the suggestion in orders that telephone conversations should
be camouflaged. I suppo