uarters had to be dumped down in farms half shot to pieces, with
all windows broken and howling icy draughts tearing through the
shell-holed walls. If you did not like this, you could go and dig a
big hole in the side of a road or a turnip-field and live in that. The
reserves were always the difficulty, and so, for a long time, were
even the supports. For whatever and wherever the trenches that we
dug for them, the rain came steadily down and broke away the sides of
the dug-outs and provided wet legs for those that sat therein. Later
on, more timber being available, as well as iron sheeting, hurdles and
other things, they became a good deal more weather-proof; but at first
the men as well as the officers were, I fear, very uncomfortable.

In those days one could not dream of going up to or into a trench
except in the dark, or, indeed, of moving about anywhere near there
except at night. Nowadays one can visit all one's trenches in broad
daylight, and never care a rap for the occasional bullets which
whistle over the comfortable deep communication trenches; but up to
the spring of 1915 it was very different almost throughout.

I used to visit the trenches every third night or so; at least I tried
to, but it was not by any means always possible. It meant a three-mile
ride there, putting up the horses in Wulverghem or Lindenhoek, and a
walk of a mile or so to the trenches, then a mile or less along the
trenches. It was lucky for you if there was any light of moon or stars
to see by, and lucky if you did not go over your knees in mud in the
dark. On one occasion it came down a pitchy dead blackness just as I
was arriving at the trenches, so that you literally could not see your
hand in front, or the road, or anything else; so I gave it up and went
back. Other nights were impossible for the same reason; and
occasionally the brilliance of the moon was in fault, though not
often. So we had to select our nights carefully.

Johnston, V.C.,[26] R.E., was in R.E. charge of our trenches. (Poor
fellow, he was killed by a sniper near St Eloi on April 15.) He must
have worked something like eighteen hours out of the twenty-four. For
by 9 A.M. he was collecting material near Dranoutre and receiving
reports, and settling his company administrative work. At 11.30 he
came to see me, and we discussed and settled the ensuing night's task.
Then back to his farm to give out instructions to his sappers, and
fifty other things to do before he