lady’s hat-pin. Our journeys were now to ——, by no means a healthy spot, but there was too much interest attached to the job for time to think of the dangers lurking around. We watched the church being shelled—twenty-seven shells in all were sent over by the Huns; but they did not get the tower, which, was, no doubt, their objective. The deserted village afforded considerable interest—the village pump standing over at an angle of 45 degrees, the unroofed houses and roads ploughed up with shell holes. The various notices on the doors, to be seen in every shell-shattered village, such as "Men must not linger here," "Out of bounds," etc., were hardly needed, for no one desired to linger any longer than curiosity prompted him. As I returned to my lorry, one of the R.H.A. batteries was just starting to make itself heard. Although at this time the guns were only 13-pounders, they spoke volumes, and to be a short distance away in line with the firing gun was as much as one wanted. On one occasion, when we went in advance of the gun-pits to dump the rations, a salvo was fired just as we approached the battery; a terrific flash came through the hedge, a matter of thirty yards away. We scarcely needed the order given by the battery sergeant to "halt." Constantly we met parties of weary, wounded Tommies, walking cases, making their way to the —— Field Dressing Station, smoking and always cheery—no doubt thankful to get off so lightly: one had an arm in a sling, while he wielded a mouth-organ with the other. Those passing in the opposite direction on their way up to the trenches were a contrast. The only semblance of cheerfulness was a slight wink given from a very sober countenance. Their jaws set, there was no "Tipperary" here. The contemplation of what is to come precedes the indifference in the heat of battle, when the time arrives to go over the parapet and excitement is at its highest pitch. I had many talks with fellows just out of the trenches, mud-clobbered and wet. One I recollect who had lost his mate beside him, taken by a stray bullet penetrating his forehead, his brains falling in his lap; the mud-plastered and blood-stained tunic, turned back for my inspection, showing the truth of the boy’s statement. Such incidents, alas! are an everyday occurrence. Neuve Chapelle claimed an army almost in itself. One had only to see at railhead lorry loads of rifles twisted beyond recognition almost, with bullet holes through the stocks, in some cases stockless; blood-smeared and broken bayonets, which had done their work and whose period of usefulness had for the time being passed—all on their way to the Base, there to be sorted out, and, where possible, overhauled for further service; kits, which were hardly to be recognized as such, German knapsacks and accoutrements all mixed up in utter confusion with those of our men.