The Headquarters at Wye Farm were in a sense commodious, but hardly of a description to inspire much confidence in a new arrival. Imagine an ordinary block of farm buildings with barn and cowshed attached. Knock holes in the roof till all the tiles and most of the beams are down; put one layer of sand-bags to protect the ceiling of the first floor in the house itself, and add sand-bag walls where walls of the usual description have ceased to exist, and you will have a fair idea of the Battalion Headquarters. There was one small sand-bag "bivvy" leading out of the orderly-room, late a stable for a couple of horses; and the regimental aid post was situated in a small brick outbuilding beyond the cemetery. In front of the house was a double duck-board track, which wandered round the corner into the farmyard behind. The Officers' Mess consisted of a low room with a fine fireplace; and the Commanding Officer's sleeping room was of reasonable size, and contained R.E. bunks for the Commanding Officer and Second-in-Command. Here we were introduced to the Second-in-Command, the Adjutant, and other Headquarters' officers of the battalion we were relieving; and then, under the guidance of the Adjutant, we set off to have a look at the line. All the way from Fleurbaix, and, in fact, the whole time we were going round the sector, the enemy preserved an entire and complete silence, due perhaps to the inoffensive nature of our particular opponents, or more probably to their rather harrowing and costly experience of the night before. City Avenue, the communication trench we were to use, had one branch, which started from Wye Farm through a hole in the wall at the back of the farm. As in most communication trenches in that part of the world, the track rests on "A" frames to keep it above water level. Down this track we moved, experiencing for the first time the impression of the endless duck-board beneath one's feet and a few yards of trench, with an occasional glimpse of bushes or rank weeds, as the only prospect before the eye. The air was damp, and strange stale odours filled the nostrils. Everything was symptomatic of death and decay. Water and mud predominated, and everything looked dreary and unkempt to the last degree. The support line round Hudson Bay looked fairly bright, with quite reasonable "bivvies," but the mud was there; and now empty tins and refuse of every sort began to add to the wretched aspect of the place.