Base hospital. In spite of rather depressing accounts from the 2/7th K.L.R. as to shelling in the vicinity of billets, we were glad to find, on May 22nd, that the relief, twice postponed, was really to take place. Dug-outs or "bivvies" are not particularly comfortable--some, indeed, very much the reverse. You get tired of stooping, of working by the light of one miserable candle, of eating at odd times and of sleeping at odd hours. The daily and nightly tours round the line become more than usually wearisome. Duck-boards seem to get more treacherous, angle irons and stray bits of barbed wire seem to project still farther from the sides of trenches; while for the man in the post--and everyone else's position is bliss compared with his--the time must have been trying indeed. Not that it was particularly dangerous, though even in quiet sectors most posts have their highly unpleasant periods; but it was infinitely uncomfortable and trying to the last degree. Besides, there was the pleasant hope that the wind would surely be favourable for one night at least out of the next eight, and then the 2/7th K.L.R., and not we, would experience the delights of a gas discharge, to the accompaniment of the applause of the enemy, which was usually of a vigorous nature. However, the relief took place at last without any hitch, and the early hours of May 23rd found us back in our old billets in Armentières. The routine was the same as last time--working parties, one platoon for special training, and the remainder general training. The new extension for the box-respirator was also fitted, and in addition we received twenty horse respirators, to which even the mules raised no violent objection. The opportunity was also taken to have all the swords sharpened. Two officers at a time were attached for instruction to A/286 Battery, R.F.A., and as the latter's quarters were situated in a comfortable orchard, the two days allowed passed pleasantly enough. On May 26th "B" Company, who had remained in the subsidiary line, were relieved by "D" Company. Early the next morning sounds were heard suggestive of a gas attack. The great bell at Houplines Level Crossing was tolling. Runners flew off to rouse the companies. Officers appeared at doorways, clothed in pyjamas, gum-boots, and box-respirators; while Lieutenant James, the Gas Officer, sniffed the early morning air like a war-horse scenting battle. Each person in turn thought he smelt chlorine--or was it phosgene? In every case it turned out to be the smell of a stale cigar, the proximity of the refuse-bin, or something else equally harmless. Gas there was none, and at length, after conversation with the Brigade, it was discovered that a few gas shells had fallen near the sentry at the level-crossing, and thus produced an alarm. So back we all went, cursing, to bed, everyone feeling a bit resentful that after we had been thus disturbed no gas had come after all.