VI. THE BATTLE OF AUGUST 8 153 VII. SHORT LEAVE TO PARIS 163 VIII. TRONES WOOD AGAIN 178 IX. DOWN THE ROAD TO COMBLES 188 X. A MASTERLY TURNING MOVEMENT 203 XI. ON THE HEELS OF THE BOCHE 211 XII. THE MAJOR'S LOST PIPE 221 XIII. NURLU AND LIERAMONT 227 XIV. THE FIGHT FOR RONSSOY 243 XV. "ERNEST" IS LOST 258 XVI. THE DECISIVE DAYS 274 XVII. WITH THE AMERICANS 283 XVIII. A LAST DAY AT THE O.P. 303 XIX. "THE COLONEL----" 326 PUSHED I. BEFORE THE ATTACK. By means of a lorry lift from railhead, and a horse borrowed from the Divisional Ammunition Column, I found Brigade Headquarters in a village that the Germans had occupied before their retreat in the spring of 1917. The huge, red-faced, grey-haired adjutant, best of ex-ranker officers, welcomed me on the farmhouse steps with a hard handshake and a bellowing "Cheerio!" followed by, "Now that you're back, I can go on leave." In the mess the colonel gave me kindly greeting, and told me something of the Brigade's ups and downs since I had left France in August 1917, wounded at Zillebeke: how all the old and well-tried battery commanders became casualties before 1917 was out, but how, under young, keen, and patiently selected leaders, the batteries were working up towards real efficiency again. Then old "Swiffy," the veterinary officer, came in, and the new American doctor, who appeared armed with two copies of the 'Saturday Evening Post.' It was all very pleasant; and the feeling that men who had got to know you properly in the filthy turmoil and strain of Flanders were genuinely pleased to see you again, produced a glow of real happiness. I had, of course, to go out and inspect the adjutant's new charger--a big rattling chestnut, conceded to him by an A.S.C. major. A mystery gift, if ever there was one: for he was a handsome beast, and chargers are getting very rare in France. "They say he bucks," explained the adjutant. "He'll go for weeks as quiet as a lamb, and then put it across you when you don't expect it. I'm going to put him under treatment."