ted with the naming.

The Belgians are great archers, the sport still surviving in that
country. At every village you will find a tall mast which you at first
think belongs to a wireless station. On examination, however, it will
prove to be an archery pole. At the top of a tall pole the target is
drawn up by a rope and pulley, and on holidays the local sports
indulge in shooting at the mark with a long bow. In every farm house
you will find the long bow and a bunch of arrows.

The programme for the big battle ran something like this: Everything
being in readiness several divisions were to be brought up behind the
trenches at Neuve Chapelle during the night of the ninth and tenth.
Next morning at 7.30 the ball was to open. It was to be a case of
"nibbling" as General Joffre calls it. Our guns were to form two zones
of fire. The big guns were to smash the first line of trenches for a
mile into fragments, while the second line of lighter guns were to
rain shrapnel on the ground over which supports might come so that the
first line would be isolated. When the first line was sufficiently
hammered the infantry was to rip the German parapets with rapid rifle
fire, then a charge with the bayonets across the devil's strip, and
once inside the first lines of parapets bomb throwing parties were to
be told off right and left to clear the trenches. These bombing
parties consisted of three or four men with bayonets to lead, and
behind them two or three bomb throwers to throw bombs at the enemy
ahead of the bayonet men. The leading bayonet men carried a flag which
they were to plant in the parapets as they passed along so that the
supporting infantry would know not to fire on them. The first line of
trenches was to be consolidated the first day. On the second day the
second line was to be assaulted and on the third day the third line.
In a similar manner everybody knew there was stiff work ahead. That
evening my battalion was relieved in the trenches by the Royal
Montreal Regiment. When we got back to our quarters we received orders
to "sleep on our arms" that night. That meant in our clothes, with our
belts and ammunition strapped on, ready to march at a moment's notice.
There was a good bed, but it was sleep in your boots for me. The fact
that a blighter of a sniper kept firing off three or four rounds of
rapid fire at my headquarters every few minutes, his bullets rattling
on the brick wall close to my window, was not very conduci