These good times soon come to an end. After various alarms and excursions, we finally marched off and embussed, our destination being a place called Le Forest, just outside Douai. It was rather a wonderful ride, and a lovely day. We went via Lens, which was a pitiable sight. I do not think I have ever seen any place of its size so completely and deliberately destroyed. There were a lot of refugees coming back, both east and west, carrying their worldly belongings with them. There was no possibility of anyone finding anything habitable when they got to Lens. One family struck me as a particularly bad case, even amongst so many. They had come goodness knows how far, and consisted of an old man, his wife, their daughter, and son-in-law, and their child in a tumbled down old perambulator, piled up with all kinds of other things. They had just arrived, and were standing on a heap of bricks, which they realized was the site of their old home. I shall never forget the look of utter desolation on their faces--they were beyond crying. There must have been many, many cases like this, and they would all either have to settle there, or face the journey back from where they had come, a case of 7 or 8 miles at the least, on roads that only bore the name out of courtesy. I saw some of our men crying when they saw these people. There is something about a Frenchman’s love of his home that appeals to us. With dog-like faith they tramp for miles to start all over again in a place rendered more than desolate, which seems to me the highest form of patriotism imaginable. At Henin-Lietard we had to get out, as the bridges across the Canal were blown up, and trekked to Le Forest. The Artists got an old Boche hospital and after the usual spring clean was not too bad a home. Headquarter Mess was in a nice little house in the main Street--at least the bottom part of it was nice, the staircase having been burnt out, and the upstairs rooms were rather a muddle. Here we gave a concert and some conjuring exhibitions to the inhabitants, who hardly seemed to realise that they were actually free and allowed to do more or less as they liked. Some rumours of moves began to come along, and we realised that it would not be very long before we were off again--this time to some purpose. NOVEMBER, 1918: THE LAST PHASE OF THE WAR. On November 5th our rest at Le Forest came to an end and we journeyed back via Auby and Douai to Thiant. The next morning we marched on to Saultain, movement being slow owing to the congestion on the roads and their state, and we got completely blocked up in a village (Aulnoy) which showed signs of recent fighting, a good many dead lying about outside. On the 7th we were off again to Sebourquiaux. By this time the Brigade that we were following were in action, and we were moving up in readiness to go through it when ordered, and that evening reached Angré.