As the guide led Tiadatha On towards his destination, To the section of the front line He was ordered to take over, Soon he found that all was different From the warfare he had known In the line near Bray and Albert. He had pictured deep-dug trenches, He had pictured winding C.T.s Saps and mines and concrete dug-outs, Belts of wire as broad as rivers, Bulgar posts within a bomb’s throw. But he found instead of trenches Little scratchings on the hill-tops, Outposts scattered on the hill-tops, Reached by little winding pathways, Strands of wire forlornly dangling, Limp and spiritless and sketchy, As a stricken banjo’s strings are, And instead of concrete dug-outs Leaky shelters made of oak-leaves Perched behind the barren hill-tops. There it was that Tiadatha Found at length a French lieutenant, Picked up scraps of information, Talking in his very vile French, Learnt the methods of patrolling, Learnt the habits of the Bulgar, Learnt that he was three miles distant, Learnt of 535 his stronghold, Crawling with O. Pips and field-guns. Then they left the dim-lit _abri_, Staggered out into the darkness, Through the pelting, pouring rainstorm, Silently relieved the sentries, Posted all the Dudshire sentries, Whispered to them what their job was, What the number of their group was, Where the groups on right and left were. Then the gallant French lieutenant Gathered all his men together, Left his little bits of trenches To the rain and Tiadatha. ITEA, _January 18, 1918_. CHAPTER X CARRYING ON There are very many lessons Taught you by the British Army, And when you have boiled the lot down Only two things really matter. When you’ve learnt them you’re a soldier, Till you have you’re still a duffer; First to know your left from right hand, Next to find your way in darkness— Both are passing hard to master. After nearly two years’ training Tiadatha could be trusted Not to go and bawl out “Eyes Right” To a guard upon his left hand, But to find his way in darkness Was a very different pigeon.