We had thought in England that we knew something about men being employed on extra-regimental duty, but the few we had so employed there was a trifle to the host supplied by us in France. Corps, Divisional and Brigade clerks, area sanitary men, Divisional Baths employees, cooks and servants at Formation Headquarters, traffic control, A.S.C. loaders, men loaned to trench-mortar and machine-gun companies, gum-boot store-keepers, tramway men, men employed at Corps Rest Camps, N.C.O. instructors at schools, and Heaven knows what else, continued to be a steady drain on the battalion. Vacancies for courses, too, came pouring in; and when you consider the number of cooks, transport drivers, clerks, police, storemen, etc., who are required for every battalion's own use, it will be clear enough that the number left in platoons and sections for ordinary duty was very small. Our time in reserve was now drawing to a close, and it appeared that on March 29th we were due to relieve the 2/5th South Lancashire Regiment in the Rue du Bois sector north of (and next but one to) La Boutillerie, the Fleurbaix trenches. The usual procedure followed. We (_i.e._, the Commanding Officer and Adjutant) set off one morning and rode along the road to Erquinghem, where we turned off to the right and called at La Rolanderie, a pleasant farmhouse with some extra Nissen huts, the Headquarters of the 172nd Brigade, the present tenants of the sector. From there, after the usual discussion about the enemy and the disadvantages and peculiarities of our new sector, we proceeded viâ Gris Pot and La Vesée to a junction of roads a few hundred yards south of the latter place. Here the horses were left, and inadvertently our tin helmets, which were hanging from our saddles, and we proceeded on foot. The country was flat and depressing. Tattered screens stood here and there masking the roads. An occasional section of guns hidden in old houses; a runner or two riding along the _pavé_ on that invention of the devil an army cycle; an artillery officer and his signallers making for a forward observation post--those were the only signs of life. All the houses were untenanted, which was to be regretted, as piquant advertisements testified to the excellence of Pierre Les Cornez beer!