true. Our Brigadier while making a tour
of inspection of the trenches, turned to the orderly officer and said:
"I believe I am hit, here." He put his hand on his left knee.

His trousers were cut away but no wound was visible. An examination
was made on his body and a little clot of blood was found over the
groin on the right. A bullet had entered there and remained in the
body. Twenty minutes later the Brigadier was dead.

Rations were short for breakfast, dinner did not arrive, we had no tea
but all the men were quite cheerful for it was rumoured that we were
going back to our billets at four o'clock in the afternoon. About that
hour we were relieved by another battalion, and we marched back (p. 184)
through the communication trench, past Marie Redoubt, Gunner Siding,
the Keep and into a trench that circled along the top of the Brick
Path. This was not the way out; why had we come here? had the officer
in front taken the wrong turning? Our billet there was such a musty
old barn with straw littered on the floor and such a quaint old farmhouse
where they sold newly laid eggs, fresh butter, fried potatoes, and
delightful salad! We loved the place, the sleepy barges that glided
along the canal where we loved to bathe, the children at play; the
orange girls who sold fruit from large wicker baskets and begged our
tunic buttons and hat-badges for souvenirs. We wanted so much to go
back that evening! Why had they kept us waiting?

"'Eard that?" Bill said to me. "Two London battalions are goin' to
charge to-night. They're passing up the trench and we're in 'ere to
let them get by."

"About turn!"

We stumbled back again into the communication trench and turned to the
left, to go out we should have gone to the right. What was happening?
Were we going back again? No dinner, no tea, no rations and sleepless
nights.... The barn at our billet with the cobwebs on the rafters (p. 185)
... the salad and soup.... We weren't going out that night.

We halted in a deep narrow trench between Gunner Siding and Marie
Redoubt, two hundred yards back from the firing trench. Our officer
read out orders.

"The ---- Brigade is going to make an attack on the enemy's position
at 6.30 this evening. Our battalion is to take part in the attack by
supporting with rifle fire."

Two of our companies were in the firing line; one was in support and
we were reserves; we had to remain in the trench packed up like
herrings, and await further in