hung above a melancholy rubbish-heap of broken bricks and
shattered timber.

"Government Farm!" called Major Mallaby-Kelby, with an informative
gesture.

Government Farm was a datum point that batteries had mercilessly pasted
two days before.

"Government Farm!" repeated Major Bullivant, who walked behind
Mallaby-Kelby.

"Government Farm!" echoed Major Veasey, with out-stretched arm; and I,
in my turn, passed the word to Beale.

Young Beale was in exuberant spirits. He not only turned his head and
shouted "Government Farm!" with a parade-ground volume of voice; he
followed with the clarion demand of "Why don't you acknowledge orders?"
to Kelly, who was so surprised that he nearly dropped the Director
before responding with a grin, and thrusting out his arm in the way
laid down in the gun-drill book for sergeants to acknowledge gunnery
orders passed along the line of guns.

We came to another large wood that stretched down towards the canal,
and, once more in a party, moved along the southern edge of it. An
infantry captain, belonging to the Division we were now working under,
stepped from beneath the trees and saluted. "We're reconnoitring for
battery positions," said Major Mallaby-Kelby, answering the salute.
"Can you tell me how the front line runs now?"

"We're sending two patrols through the wood to the canal now," replied
the captain, "The Boche hadn't entirely cleared out three-quarters of
an hour ago."

"We may as well go on," said Major Mallaby-Kelby, after three or four
minutes further conversation. "The Boche must be over the canal by now
... and we have to select battery positions as soon as possible. We
don't want to bring the guns up in the dark." There was a general
feeling for revolvers, and we entered the wood and followed a
bridle-path. I could imagine that wood in the pleasant careless days of
peace, a proper wood for picnics and nutting expeditions. Ripening
blackberries even now loaded the bramble bushes, but the foul
noxiousness of gas shells had made them uneatable. The heavy sickly
smell of phosgene pervaded the close air; no birds fluttered and piped
among the upper branches. The heavy steel helmet caused rills of sweat
to run down the cheeks.

We forged ahead past a spacious glade where six tracks met. "There's a
hut we could use for a mess," said Major Veasey. "Mark it up, Kelly;
and look at that barrel, it would be big enough for you to sleep in."
Snapped-off branches, and holes t