I landed at Havre on 12th August, and we stayed in camp two days. After that we came a long way by train to Le Nouvion, and marched to a little place called Boué, where we went into billets. I stayed in a lovely old farm house, and the people were awfully good to me and fed me on the best of everything. Well, then we were marched right up to Belgium in two days--about fifty miles, to a place called Grand Rong, and the second day thirty-two miles; the next day we fought a small battle just on the frontier, without any losses, and returned right away back to Fesing, just near where we started all the machinery; then the real fighting started. The first I knew of it was being roused at 3 a.m. by an orderly from Headquarters, to proceed with my platoon to reinforce another Company on outpost who were being attacked; there we fought for two days, and just as we thought all was over we found we were surrounded, and a desperate battle began. I could not describe the horrors of it on paper, but we were three-fourths of a Battalion fighting six German Battalions, without any chance of relief, and I think we really did our best. We had a section of artillery and two machine-guns with us, which helped a lot, but they were very soon knocked out. Our Colonel[1] was a wonder to see. He had absolutely no fear, and I followed him and helped him all I could in every charge, but he was blown to pieces in the end by a shell. We had, I think, ten officers killed and five wounded, and the remainder prisoners. I was wounded in two places--a bullet right through my throat and all the biceps of my left arm blown away by a piece of shell. My throat, of course, is bad and very troublesome. They put in a tube so as to allow me to breathe, and I can eat and drink, but I can't speak. All the officers were sent off to Germany yesterday, and the men who were able to travel, so I am alone among the Germans, except for three men, who are very bad. This town is about the size of Bandon, and is just one big hospital; every house is full of wounded, and flies, and the smells are awful. Well, although we were beaten, I believe we gave as good as we got. We killed and wounded a great many Germans, and they say themselves that we made a gallant fight of it. When I come home I will be able to tell you some strange tales, but I can't write it all. Our fellows who were in the South African War say it was child's play to this, and there never was a battle as fierce as the one we were knocked out in. SIR A. CONAN DOYLE AND THE BATTLE OF MONS In March 1915 Sir A. Conan Doyle gave an address on "The Great Battles of the War," in the Usher Hall, Edinburgh, to a vast and enthusiastic assemblage. The following extract from the _Scotsman_ of the next morning refers to the Munsters:--