January 23rd._--Another blue, sunny, frosty morning. Loading
up this morning was hard to attend to, as a thrilling Taube chase was
going on overhead, the sky peppered with bursting shells, and aeroplanes
buzzing around: didn't bring it down though.

The train is full of very painful feet: like a form of large burning
chilblain all over the foot, and you can't do anything for them, poor
lambs.

_Still Saturday, January 23rd._--This is our first journey to
Versailles. My only acquaintance with it was on the way up from Le Mans
to Villeneuve to join this train. Two kind sisters, living in a sort of
little ticket office in the middle of the line, washed and fed me at 6
A.M. in between two trains, but I saw nothing of the glories of
Versailles--hope to to-morrow.

I don't think the men will get much sleep, their feet are too bad, but
we are going to give them a good chance with drugs, the last thing. We
shall do the night in three watches.

_Sunday, January 24th_, 5 A.M., _Versailles._--They've had a pretty good
night most of them. If you see any compartment, say six sitters and two
top-liers showing signs of being near the end of their tether, with bad
feet and long hours of the train, you have only to say cheerfully, "How
are you getting on in this dug-out?" for every man to brighten visibly,
and there is a chorus of "If our dug-outs was like this I reckon we
shouldn't want no relievin'!" and a burst of wit and merriment follows.
You can try it all down the train; it never fails.

They are all in 1st class coaches, not 3rds or 2nds.

9.30 A.M.--They have only four M.A.'s, and the hospital is 1-1/2 miles
off, so all our 366 limping, muddy scarecrows are not off yet. There is
a mist and a piercing north wind, and lots of mud. The A.T.'s do so much
bringing the British Army from the field that I hope some other trains
are busy bringing the British Army to the field, or there can't be many
left in the field.

They told me another story of a man in the Royal Scots who was sunk in
mud up to his shoulders, and the officer offered a canteen of rum and a
sovereign to the first man who could get him out. For five hours
thirteen men were digging for him, but it filled up always as they dug,
and when they got him out he died.

6 P.M.--Just getting to Rouen, probably to load for Havre. They do keep
us moving. We just had time to go and see the Palais Trianon with the
French Sergeant (who is nearly a gentleman, and an artis