into a fresh part of the line. We felt
that we did not wish to see the Bucquoy-Ablainzevelle road again! For
some time now the 42nd had been one of the divisions of the IV. Corps,
commanded by Lt.-Gen. Harper, the one-time commander of the famous 51st
(Highland Territorial) division, and as such we were to remain until
Germany was defeated. We were in goodly company, for the other divisions
were the New Zealanders, the 37th and eventually the 5th, but we were
never put to shame at any time. Indeed, the spirit of "Go one better"
was always amplified by deeds, and by none more assiduously than the 7th
Manchesters.

Hebuterne and the immediate district was the "happy hunting ground" of
the division until the final grand hunt in August. As in 1914 the
village stood on the high-water mark of the advancing tide of Huns. In
their last effort they had captured it but the Australians had driven
them out again. If a visit be paid to this part of France the reason for
its importance to either side will be seen at once, for it stands near
the northern end of a commanding ridge which runs north and south, and
from which good observation is obtained for many miles in all
directions. This was the ridge over which the Huns had swarmed in March,
to be thrown back again, after a severe dispute, by the newly arrived
Anzacs, so that the present position was good for us but poor for
"Jerry." Hebuterne was the culminating point of a very pronounced Hun
salient, and our line swept round in a noticeable curve from the corner
of Bucquoy to Beaumont Hamel, almost touching the south-eastern edge of
the village. Looking north was the famous ground where Gommecourt had
once stood. In 1917 the French had decided that Gommecourt should be
preserved in its battle-scarred state as a national monument, for the
blood of many brave soldiers had there been shed during the fierce Somme
fighting of 1916. Notices were put up, huge white boards with black
printing in French and English, enjoining no one to interfere with the
trenches and wire, etc., but to leave things just as they were. Oh, the
irony of it! Here was the Hun again pounding, pounding with fierce wrath
and insistent desire to smash his way through. Those self-same notices
were shell-shattered, while in his zeal to destroy the dug-outs which he
knew so well in Gommecourt, for he had made them, he dropped, in one
morning, more than thirty 15-inch shells in the village. To the right of
Gommecourt c