in action 33. Captain Lockhart, late
with Fort Garry Horse, arrived to relieve me. I handed over, came up to
the horse lines, and slept in a covered wagon in a courtyard. We were
all sorry to part--the four of us have been very intimate and had agreed
perfectly--and friendships under these circumstances are apt to be the
real thing. I am sorry to leave them in such a hot corner, but cannot
choose and must obey orders. It is a great relief from strain, I must
admit, to be out, but I could wish that they all were.

This phase of the war lasted two months precisely,

and to John McCrae it must have seemed a lifetime since he went into
this memorable action. The events preceding the second battle of Ypres
received scant mention in his letters; but one remains, which brings
into relief one of the many moves of that tumultuous time.

April 1st, 1915.

We moved out in the late afternoon, getting on the road a little after
dark. Such a move is not unattended by danger, for to bring horses and
limbers down the roads in the shell zone in daylight renders them liable
to observation, aerial or otherwise. More than that, the roads are now
beginning to be dusty, and at all times there is the noise which carries
far. The roads are nearly all registered in their battery books, so if
they suspect a move, it is the natural thing to loose off a few rounds.
However, our anxiety was not borne out, and we got out of the danger
zone by 8.30--a not too long march in the dark, and then for the last
of the march a glorious full moon. The houses everywhere are as dark as
possible, and on the roads noises but no lights. One goes on by the long
rows of trees that are so numerous in this country, on cobblestones and
country roads, watching one's horses' ears wagging, and seeing not much
else. Our maps are well studied before we start, and this time we
are not far out of familiar territory. We got to our new billet about
10--quite a good farmhouse; and almost at once one feels the relief of
the strain of being in the shell zone. I cannot say I had noticed it
when there; but one is distinctly relieved when out of it.

Such, then, was the life in Flanders fields in which the verse was born.
This is no mere surmise. There is a letter from Major-General E. W. B.
Morrison, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O., who commanded the Brigade at the time,
which is quite explicit. "This poem," General Morrison writes, "was
literally born of fire and blood durin