Platoon by platoon the company filed out and formed up roughly behind the houses. The order to move came at last and the ranked fours swung off, tramping slowly and stolidly in silence until some one struck up a song-- '_Crump, crump, crump, says the big bustin' shells----_ A chorus of protest and a 'Give the shells a rest' stopped the song on the first line, and it was to the old regimental tune, the canteen and sing-song favourite, 'The Sergeant's Return,' that the Royal Blanks settled itself into its pack shoulder-straps and tramped on. I'm the same ol' feller that you always used to know-- Oh! Oh! you know you used to know-- An' it's years since we parted way down on Plymouth Hoe-- Oh! Oh! So many years ago. I've roamed around the world, but I've come back to you, For my 'eart 'as never altered, my 'eart is ever true. [Prolonged and noisy imitation of a kiss.] _Ain't_ that got the taste you always used to know? The colonel was talking to the adjutant in the road as the companies moved past, and he noted with some concern the ragged ranks and listless movement of the first lot to pass. 'They're looking badly tucked up,' he said. 'They've had a cruel day,' said the adjutant. 'Yes, the worst kind,' agreed the O.C. 'And I doubt if they can stand that sort of thing so well now. The old regiment is not what it used to be. We're so filled up with recruits now--youngsters too. . . . Here's B company--about the rawest of the lot and caught the worst of it to-day. How d'you think they stand it?' But it was B company that answered the question for itself and the old regiment, singing the answer softly to itself and the O.C. as it trudged past-- I'm the same ol' feller that you always used to know-- Oh! Oh! you know you used to know. . . . 'Gad, Malcolm,' said the O.C. straightening his own shoulders, 'they'll do, they'll do.' . . . My 'eart 'as never altered, my 'eart is ever true, the remnant of No. 2 Platoon sang past him. 'They haven't shaken us yet,' said the O.C. proudly. 'Tutt, tutt!' grumbled the maxim faintly. 'Tutt, tutt!' THE MINE '_. . . a mine was successfully exploded under a section of the enemy's trench. . . ._'--ACTUAL EXTRACT FROM AN OFFICIAL DESPATCH. Work on the sap-head had been commenced on what the Captain of the Sappers called 'a beautiful night,' and what anyone else outside a lunatic asylum would have described with the strongest adjectives available in exactly the opposite sense. A piercing wind was blowing in gusts of driving sleet and rain, it was pitch dark--'black as the inside of a cow,' as the Corporal put it--and it was bitterly cold. But, since all these conditions are exactly those most calculated to make difficult the work of an enemy's sentries and look-outs, and the first work of sinking a shaft is one which it is highly desirable should be unobserved by an enemy, the Sapper Captain's satisfaction may be understood.