llaby-Kelby and the colonel, a slim
soft-voiced young man at least twenty-six years of age, with a proved
reputation for bravery and organising powers, had their blankets laid
side by side at the top of the shaft; the two adjutants, plus
telephones, came next; then a couple of signallers with telephone
switch-boards; and, lowest of all, the doctor and myself. Wilde and his
signallers, the cook and his servants, had installed themselves in a
roomy hut stuck in a big bank thirty yards away. There was a sort of
well at the top of the shaft, with steps cut in the earth, leading down
from the ground-level. We fastened a tarpaulin across the top of the
well and made it our mess. It was not unwise to pick such a
well-shielded nook; the Boche gunners flung shells about more in this
neighbourhood than along the slope where the batteries were situated.

We slept three nights in the shaft. Each morning on awaking I
discovered that I had slipped a couple of yards downhill. I made
further full acquaintance, too, with the completeness of the doctor's
snoring capabilities. Down in that shaft he must have introduced a new
orgy of nasal sounds. It commenced with a gentle snuffling that rather
resembled the rustling of the waters against the bows of a racing
yacht, and then in smooth even stages crescendoed into one grand
triumphant blare.

September 1 proved a day of glory in the history of the Division.
Conferences of Generals, and dashing to and fro of despatch-riders,
produced ambitious plans for an advance that would more than make up
for the set-back of August 30. A brigade of our own Divisional Infantry
was again to descend upon the village of Combles, while another
brigade, working on the flank, would effect a turning movement
northwards towards Fregicourt, a hamlet twelve hundred yards north-east
of Combles. Meanwhile the Division on our left intended to make a
desperate effort to free the Morval Heights.

My task was to be brigade liaison officer with the --th Infantry
Brigade, who had come up overnight to a quarry a quarter of a mile
beyond D Battery's position. It was a crisp invigorating day, with a
nip in the air that foretold the approach of autumn, and it would have
been a pleasant walk along the valley had not one constantly to get to
leeward of the dead horses that littered the way. And I shall always
recall a small log-cabin that stood isolated in the centre of the
valley--the sort of place that could mean lone sett