It seemed hours before we got out of the wood into the open field. We would go forward a few steps along the track, and then stand and wait for ten or fifteen minutes. The road by which we had arrived was crowded with transport and artillery, and we turned off on a bypath through the woods. It was now quite dark, and blind work it was blundering along, touching the man ahead to keep from losing him, slipping and tripping in the wet underbrush. It is remarkable how exasperating a pack and rifle become under such circumstances. However, the excitement of anticipation buoyed us up, and “B” Co. wallowed through the wood, across a mushy field, and scrambled up a slippery embankment on to a strange road, much more cheerfully than now seems possible. Once re-formed on said road, we hiked along briskly in column of squads. Soon we overtook a long column of transport wagons, trucks and artillery. Road discipline was something apparently unknown; every vehicle seemed to be trying to pass every other one. The consequence was of course wondrous confusion, and here and there a total jam, through which we had to thread our way in single or double file as best we could. When we got clear of the last jam, the company ahead had gained about 15 yards, and was consequently as completely out of sight as if they had been in Timbuctoo. We passed through a village in hot pursuit of them. At the crossroads, by sheer good luck I turned off up the right one. After a long hour’s stern chase we were relieved to see the bobbing forms of Headquarters Co. show through the gloom ahead. At about 10:30 we came upon Sgt. Hill waiting for us by the roadside, with the welcome news that our temporary destination was only a couple of kilos off. We toiled up a long hill, and turned off the macadam into a rough road that was a series of four inch ponds. We plashed along to the edge of a large wood, and Hill showed us a pile of empty bandoliers and boxes, where the Marines had been issued ammunition and grenades about an hour before. They had just pulled out, and were going over the top at dawn. A hundred yards or so, and we turned into the woods, on a road which was from ankle to knee deep in all varieties of mud, from sticky to liquid. We moved on, stumbled over a railroad track, and finally Hill said we were at our bivouac. The trees and underbrush grew so thick along the road that we blundered about a bit before we found a couple of places where we could force our way through. As each man reached a place where he could sit or lie down, down he flopped, and the rest of the company walked over him. The woods already had some occupants, and more and more poured in every minute.