erested to learn that we have moved again. We are now
billeted in a pretty little village in the heart of north-eastern
France....

"Yesterday, Saturday June 16, 1917--the hundred and second anniversary
of Ligny and Quatre Bras--is a day I am not likely ever to forget. Such
a march we had; and it was _some_ stunt! Let me tell you, as far as I
can without naming places, the whole story.

"Reveille sounded at 3 a.m. I rose at 5 a.m. We (the officers) had
breakfast at 5.30. Parade at 6. At 6.45 we marched off from the village
in which we had been billeted during the last few days. It was a very
long march which we had before us to the village in which we now are--a
distance of sixteen miles. Yet we were expecting to arrive there by
midday! I will show you how events turned out so that we did not arrive
here anything like midday. The weather was, and is, just as it has been
all the time--a cloudless sky and a burning sun. It was already quite
warm when we set off, and as the morning advanced the sun naturally
became more powerful still. We joined up with the rest of the Brigade a
little further on, and marched past General Stockwell and Major Thompson
(the Brigade-Major)."

It was in the streets of Watten that we marched past Stockwell; and I
vividly recollect that he was not at all pleased with things as early as
that. I distinctly heard the word 'rabble' burst from his lips! The
letter proceeds:

"Men began to fall out before we reached the first village (or town as
it happened to be). And as soon as the falling out began it continued
without ceasing, only becoming more frequent the farther we got. I do
think they began falling out too early. Every time a man fell out we
subalterns had to drop behind with him and give him a chit. That
naturally took time and one got right behind; then one would endeavour
to catch up again; as soon as one was back with one's own
platoon--generally before--one would come across more men of one's
company who had fallen out, and so would get right back again. Thus it
went on the whole time. It meant that we had double the walking to do
that the men had; and we were loaded like Christmas trees just like
them. Fortunately there was a mess cart with the Transport, containing
still lemonade; so I had a drink now and then. It is an Army idea that
one should not drink on the march: that it knocks one up much quicker. I
say frankly, from experience, that it is nonsense. I drank as much as I
cou