nd he had an idea that he ought to be with them. He
felt this very deeply, and told me so in a conversation we had
together on the subject. The first time he spoke to me about it I told
him that, whilst I sympathised with all he said, yet I considered it
was his duty to remain where he was. I reminded him of the highly
important work he was doing so well, and told him that it would be
most difficult to replace him in that work, whereas it would be
comparatively easy to put his regiment right as regards officers.

The next day he came back to me and repeated his request with great
earnestness. He told me he could never be happy or contented in his
mind if at this juncture he did not take his place beside his brother
officers in his old regiment. It would indeed have been difficult for
any soldier to refuse such a request, or fail to understand and enter
into Dawnay's feelings.

I felt that it was weak of me to give way to him, but I did so on the
understanding that his absence was only to be temporary. Of course, he
might easily have been killed in the performance of his
Staff duties, nevertheless when I heard he had fallen I felt that, in
the interests of the service, I had done wrong in allowing him to go.

It is necessary to steel one's heart against any kind of sentiment
when conducting a great war, and in the loss of one of the finest and
most valuable young Staff Officers I have ever come across, I learnt a
lesson never to be forgotten.

On several subsequent occasions similar requests were made to me
without avail, notably in the case of my friend Clive of the
Grenadiers, whose services and help I can never recall without
admiration and gratitude.

On the night of the 6th came the information that the Austrians had
been badly routed and driven across the San river by the Russians. Up
went our hopes again like quick-silver; another week gone and we
expected to see the Germans on our front weakened and reduced by the
necessity of sending troops to save Silesia.

Our hopes and plans were fully discussed at a meeting held on Sunday,
November 8th, at Foch's Headquarters at Cassel. Foch was in one of his
most sanguine moods, and I must confess to having strongly felt the
infection of his hopeful disposition. Our military barometer, however,
went up and down as swiftly and suddenly as that of a ship in a
typhoon.

What filled my immediate thoughts was the dire necessity of relieving
the tired-out troops in the Y