During the great battle the Field Ambulance in which Jack Wellcombe was stationed was working night and day at fever pitch. Time and again the German guns sought out their quarters and big shells levelled to earth the houses round about; but, as if the hand of Providence were watching them, the little field hospital escaped with its patients each time, just before the buildings were wrecked. Five times during the three days this fortunate move was accomplished not a moment too soon, but still they stuck doggedly to the village, as close as possible to the guns. Sleep was out of the question. Even if the noise and imminent danger might have been ignored, the streams of wounded coming in had to receive attention, and during those frightful days no man flinched before his precarious and arduous duty. In the seventeen consecutive days and nights of the artillery battle there was never a full minute’s break in the bombardment from either side. On the fourth day, during the lull in the infantry fighting, the door of the field ambulance was suddenly darkened by the figure of a man. He staggered in. His eyes were bloodshot. His clothes were torn and covered with mud, his chin had not been shaved for days and his appearance betokened utter weariness and exhaustion. Jack Wellcombe met him at the door and, in spite of his unkempt and wild appearance, recognised him at once as the Commanding Officer of a Canadian battalion. "Good morning, sir," he said in his usual cheery manner. The colonel looked toward him with glazed, unseeing eyes and without a sign of recognition. "I want four coffins," he muttered, ignoring Jack’s greeting. "You want what, sir?" Jack exclaimed, with a puzzled look. "Four coffins," he repeated with mechanical firmness and in a tone of command, "and I want them at once!" "Come in, sir, and sit down," Jack urged. "You’re unnerved from this wild fight and lack of sleep. You need a rest—not a coffin." "I know what I want," he repeated with calm insistence, "and it’s four coffins—to bury four of my officers." Jack thought the man’s reason had gone as a result of the terrific strain, but decided to humour him. "Come over to my billet with me and get a shave, a wash and a good glass of grog, and then when you’re feeling better we’ll go out together and get what you want, and I’ll go back to the lines with you." The colonel passed his hand across his forehead as though he were trying without success to recollect something, and then without a word suffered Jack to take his arm and lead him away. When they arrived at the billet Jack gave him a stiff glass of brandy and asked him to lie down while the water was being heated for his bath. Before it was ready he had fallen sound asleep and Jack did not disturb him for a couple of hours, when he was aroused with difficulty.