The time had come for the 49th Division to play its part in the final adventure. On October 6th came the orders to move. When, late in the afternoon, B Echelon, under the command of Major W. C. Fenton, M.C., marched out en route for the Divisional Reception Camp at Mont St. Eloi, the Battalion knew that at last it was for battle; and perhaps, during all its years of active service, it had never been fitter. An hour or two later the Battalion,[20] over 650 strong, moved off and, in the darkness, bussed through the historic Queant--the pivotal point of the Hindenburg Line--to the neighbourhood of Buissy, where it bivouaced. For two days it lay idle. Its exact role had not yet been definitely settled. So unlikely did a move seem on the morning of October 9th that the adjutant, and most of the company commanders, rode up to reconnoitre the forward area. They rode on and on, until they came to the point where they expected to find the front line; it was occupied by a battery of 6-inch howitzers. Then they heard the news. Cambrai had fallen that morning, and the Canadians were already well beyond it. In haste they returned, only to meet the Battalion already two miles forward on the road. Beyond the Canal du Nord was a sight to be remembered by anyone who had seen the same ground on the previous day. Then the country had been covered with transport lines, the camps of ammunition columns, and all the details to be found immediately behind the line. Now it was deserted, save for the few odd men left behind to clear up. While over the hill in front, in that rolling grass-covered country, line after line and column after column could be seen moving slowly towards the east. The whole B.E.F. seemed to be on the march. [Illustration: Lieut.-Col. A. L. MOWAT, D.S.O., M.C.] The night was spent in some deserted enemy shelters and dugouts, in a sunken road to the west of Sancourt. Arriving after dark, there was little opportunity to make oneself comfortable. The following morning passed quietly but, about 1-0 p.m., came the orders to move again. Early in the afternoon the Battalion started. It crossed the Canal de l’Escaut at Escaudœuvres--the bridge had been in enemy hands barely twenty-four hours before, but he had left too hurriedly to destroy it. Yet he had found time wantonly to destroy in his usual manner; the houses were full of furniture senselessly damaged--chairs broken to bits, feather beds ripped open, crockery and glass lying smashed on the floors. An occasional shell was still falling as the Battalion marched through the village.