importance of the Major was great--the full weight and responsibility of the war seemed on him. "The Importance of being Ernest" wasn't in it with him. As I learnt afterwards, when he came in late for a meal all the other officers and Allied Press correspondents stood up. Many a time I got a black look for not doing so. However, he advised the worst and most expensive hotel in the town, and off we went (no dinner offered), rather depressed and sad. [Illustration: III. _Men resting. La Boisselle._] CHAPTER II (p. 016) THE SOMME (APRIL 1917) Amiens was the one big town that could be reached easily from the Somme front for dinner, so every night it was crowded with officers and men who had come back in cars, motor-bikes, lorries or any old thing in or on which they could get a lift. After dinner they would stand near the station and hail anything passing, till they found something that would drop them near their destination. As there was an endless stream of traffic going out over the Albert and Peronne Roads during that time (April 1917), it was easy. Amiens is a dirty old town with its seven canals. The cathedral, belfry and the theatre are, of course, wonderful, but there is little else except the dirt. I remember later lunching with John Sargent in Amiens, after which I asked him if he would like to see the front of the theatre. He said he would. When we were looking at it he said: "Yes, I suppose it is one of the most perfect things in Europe. I've had a photograph of it hanging over my bed for the last thirty years." But Amiens was a danger trap for the young officer from the line, also for the men. "Charlie's Bar" was always full of officers; mirth ran high, also the bills for drinks--and the drink the Tommies got in the little cafes was terrible stuff, and often doped. Then, when darkness came on, strange women--the riff-raff from (p. 017) Paris, the expelled from Rouen, in fact the badly diseased from all parts of France--hovered about in the blackness with their electric torches, and led the unknowing away to blackened side-streets and up dim stairways--to what? Anyway, for an hour or so they were out of the rain and mud, but afterwards? Often did I go with Freddie Fane, the A.P.M., to these dens of filth to drag fine men away from disease. [Illustration: IV. _A Tank. Pozieres._]