_The Editor of SOLDIERS' TALES will be glad to read diaries or notebooks of those returning, in any capacity whatsoever, from the Front with a view to inclusion in the Series. Contributions must be strictly truthful and should be written with no effort at fine writing. They are intended to tell truthfully the experiences and the feelings of the writers. They should be sent by registered post to the Editor, "Soldiers' Tales," 21, Bedford Street, W.C., and they may be accompanied by sketches and photographs. All contributions printed will be well paid for. Contributions should be of 30,000 words and upwards in length._ CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. HOW I WENT TO THE FRONT 1 II. THE FIRST CHARGE 57 III. RECONNOITRING COURGIVAULT 76 IV. THE JAULGONNE AFFAIR 102 V. LOW MASS AND BENEDICTION 152 VI. A TRAGIC NIGHT IN THE TRENCHES 178 VII. SISTER GABRIELLE 226 VIII. CHRISTMAS NIGHT 258 I. HOW I WENT TO THE FRONT The train was creeping along slowly in the soft night air. Seated on a truss of hay in the horse-box with my own two horses and that of my orderly, Wattrelot, I looked out through the gap left by the unclosed sliding door. How slowly we were going! How often we stopped! I got impatient as I thought of the hours we were losing whilst the other fellows were fighting and reaping all the glory. Station after station we passed; bridges, level crossings, tunnels. Everywhere I saw soldiers guarding the line and the bayonets of the old chassepots glinting in the starlight. Now and again the train would suddenly pull up for some mysterious reason. The three horses, frightened at being brought into collision with each other, made the van echo to the thunder of their hoofs as they slipped, stamped, and recovered their balance. I got up to calm them with soothing words and caresses. By the light of the wretched lantern swinging and creaking above the door I could see their three heads, with pricked ears and uneasy eyes. They were breathing hard and could not understand why they had been brought away from their comfortable stable with its thick litter of clean straw. _They_ were not thinking about the war, but they seemed to understand that their good times were over, that they would have to resign themselves to all sorts of discomforts, march unceasingly, pass nights in camps under the pouring rain, keep their heavy equipment on their backs for many days together, and not always get food when they were hungry.