No doubt the remains of an order issued by the C.O. of a battalion in a tight corner, with perhaps a difficult job ahead to accomplish and an important part to play in the "Big Push." There is no signature or clue which would enable the writer of this inspiring human document or the regiment referred to in it to be identified. Perhaps his men obeyed his order and with him have earned their discharge and joined the great majority. To see the captured ground and its network of trenches and dug-outs is to realize what a tremendous achievement it has been on the part of British troops to dig the Huns out like rats from their strongholds and drive them back, and what artillery preparation must have been necessary to break down their defences. In passing, there are also the other rats, and the shelter afforded by dug-outs is shared by men and rats alike. It is scarcely necessary to add that the latter are a veritable plague, not only in the trenches themselves, but behind them as well. There is a story—I cannot vouch for its truth, though it certainly has a Bairnsfather touch about it—of an officer commanding a battalion who received orders from his Brigade Headquarters to "render a return" to that office by such and such a date, stating the number of rats in the trenches occupied by the unit under his command. The nature of his alleged reply I have not, however, heard. It is better, no doubt, left to the imagination. The Army lives on "returns." Every unit in the field, no matter under what conditions it is living, has to "render returns" on at least a dozen different things each week. In that most priceless little book of wit, which contains so much that is in reality true, _The Young Officer’s Guide to Knowledge_, we find that "a return" is a document sent to a superior authority and comprises lists of persons or things in your charge. This document, quite contrary to what you might suppose from its title, never returns to you, unless the person to whom you have sent it thinks it requires attention. It is probably called "a return" for this very reason, as it is the most unlikely name for it, and so cultivates a taste for the eccentric in the Service. Returns are always being "called for" by somebody. You must be prepared to "render" these "returns" at all times at a moment’s notice, e.g. "the average number of men who have had sore feet between January 1st and April 1st." But to return to the scenery between the Ancre and the Somme.