But the Germans had command of some rising ground in front of the British line at this point. They could fire down into our trench and crosswise of it. It was as if we were in the alley and they were in a first-floor window. This meant many casualties. It was man-economy and fire-economy to take that two hundred yards. A section of trench may always be taken if worth while. Reduce it to dust with shells and then dash into the breach and drive the enemy back from zigzag traverse to traverse with bombs. But such a small action requires as careful planning as a big operation of other days. We had taken the two hundred yards. The thing was to hold them. That is always the difficulty; for the enemy will concentrate his guns to give you the same dose that you gave him. In an hour after they were in, the British soldiers, who knew exactly what they had to do and how to do it after months of experience, had turned the wreck of the German trenches into a British trench which faced toward Berlin, rather than Calais. In their official bulletin the Germans said that they had recovered the trench. They did recover part of it for a few hours. It was then that the commander on the German side must have sent in his report to catch the late evening editions. Commanders do not like to confess the loss of trenches. It is the sort of thing that makes Headquarters ask: “What is the matter with you over there, anyway?” There was a time when the German bulletins about the Western front seemed rather truthful; but of late they have been getting into bad habits. The British general knew what was coming; he knew that he would start the German hornets out of their nest when he took the trench; he knew, too, that he could rely upon his men to hold till they were told to retire or there were none left to retire. The British are a home-loving people, who do not like to be changing their habitations. In succeeding days the question up and down the lines was, “Have we still got that trench?” Only two hundred yards of ditch on the continent of Europe! But was it still ours? Had the Germans succeeded in “strafing” us out of it yet? They had shelled all the trenches in the region of the lost trench and had made three determined and unsuccessful counter-attacks when, on the fifth day, we returned to the château to ask if it were practicable to visit the new trench. “At your own risk!” said the staff officer. If we preferred we could sit on the veranda where there were easy chairs, on a pleasant summer day. Very peaceful the sweep of the well-kept grounds and the shade of the stately trees of that sequestered world of landscape. Who was at war? Why was any one at war? Two staff automobiles awaiting orders on the drive and a dust-laden despatch rider with messages, who went past toward the rear of the house, were the only visual evidence of war.