exercise for me. "I think every
adjutant ought to have a pit to dig in--adjutants get too little
exercise," I told the colonel. After which Hubbard, crouching with his
pick, offered practical tuition in the science of underpinning. We
sweated hard and enjoyed our lunch. Judd and young Beale reported back
from leave, and Beale caused a sensation by confessing that he had got
married. A Corps wire informed every unit that Lance-Corporal
Kleinberg-Hermann, "5 ft. 8, fair hair, eyes blue, scar above nose, one
false tooth in front, dressed German uniform," and Meyer Hans, "6 ft.,
fair hair, brown eyes, thin face, wears glasses, speaks English and
French fluently, dressed German uniform," had escaped from a prisoners
of war camp. The mail brought a letter from which the colonel learnt
that a long-time friend, a lieut.-colonel in the Garrison Artillery,
had been killed. He had lunched with us one day in June, a bright-eyed,
grizzled veteran, with a whimsical humour. India had made him look
older than his years. "They found his body in No Man's Land," said the
colonel softly. "They couldn't get to it for two days."

At half-past nine that night we learned that our own Divisional
infantry were coming up in front of us again. There was to be another
big attack, to complete the work begun by the Americans, and at zero
hour we should pass under the command of our Divisional artillery. At
four in the morning the telephone near my pillow woke me up, and Major
Bartlett reported that the Boche had started a barrage. "I don't think
he suspects anything," said the major. "It's only ordinary
counter-preparation." In any case it didn't affect our attack, which
started with splendid zest. The Boche plunked a few gas shells near us;
but by 9.15 the brigade-major told me that the Americans and our own
infantry had advanced a thousand yards and were on their first
objective. "I smell victory to-day," said the colonel, looking at his
map. By half-past ten Major Bartlett's battery had moved forward two
thousand yards, and the major had joined a battalion commander so as to
keep pace with the onward rush of the infantry.

Good news tumbled in. At 10.50 the intelligence officer of our
companion Artillery brigade rang up to tell me that their liaison
officer had seen our troops entering the southern end of a well-known
village that lay along the canal.

"Ring up A and B at once," interjected the colonel, "and tell them to
stop their bursts of fi