Walking gave us opportunity for observation; and that road was worth seeing to those who had not seen it before. There were convoys of A.S.C. lorries, drawn up (or “parked”) in twenties or thirties alongside the road, each with its mystical marking, a scarlet shell, a green shamrock, etc., painted on its side; Red Cross ambulances passed, impelling one to turn back and look in them, sometimes containing stretcher-cases (feet only visible), or sitting cases with bandaged head or arm in sling. Then there were motor-cars with Staff officers; motor-cars with youthful officers in immaculate Sam Brownes and “slacks”; and as we drew nearer Béthune, we saw canteens with Tommies standing and lounging outside, small squads of men, English notices, and boards with painted inscriptions, +-------------+ +----------------+ | BILLETS. | | | such as | Officers--2 | or | H.Q. | | Men--30 | |117th Inf. Bde. | +-------------+ +----------------+ and in the distance loomed the square tower of the cathedral, which I thought then to be a decapitated spire. And so we came into the bustle of a French city. I had never heard of Béthune before. As the crow flies it is about five to six miles from the front trenches. The shops were doing a roaring trade, and I was amazed to see chemists flaunting auto-strop razors, stationers offering “Tommy’s writing-pad,” and tailors showing English officers’ uniforms in their windows, besides all the goods of a large and populous town. We were very hungry and tired, and fate directed us to the famous tea-shop, where, at dainty tables, amid crowds of officers, we obtained an English tea! I was astounded; so were we all. To think that I had treasured a toothbrush as a thing that I might not be able to replace for months! Here was everything to hand. Were we really within six miles of the Germans? Yet officers were discussing “the hot time we had yesterday”; while “we only came out this morning,” or “they whizz-banged us pretty badly last night,” were remarks from officers redolent of bath and the hairdresser! Buttons brilliantly polished, boots shining like advertisements, swagger-canes, and immaculate collars, gave the strangest first impression of “active service” to us, with our leather equipment, packs, leather buttons, and trench boots! “Old Barrett was right about the Sam Brownes,” I said to Terry, vainly trying to look at my ease. “Let’s look at your map,” he answered. Then, after a moment: “Oh, we’re not far from the La Bassée Canal. I’ve heard of that often enough!” “So have I,” I replied. “Is La Bassée ours or theirs?” “Ours, of course”; but he borrowed the map again to make sure! Refreshed, but feeling strangely “out” of everything, we eventually found our way to the town major. Here my letter continues: