Not a light was to be seen anywhere. Someone struck a match to start a cigarette; immediately, almost before the flame had burst, came the angry order, “Put that light out.” The windows of the houses were all dead; but if one pressed against them, he could hear voices and knew that behind the heavy curtains drawn across them men bent over tables and worked beneath shaded lamps. Carrying our blankets and rations, we wormed our way in single file through the traffic, entered a courtyard and found ourselves in a partially destroyed house. There were two rooms, mildewed with damp, bare of furniture and littered with the dibris of the last soldiers who had been billeted there. By the broken equipment that they had left, we knew that they had been French. After waiting for about a quarter of an hour we were joined by the Colonel, who brought with him an armful of maps. We wedged up the windows with sacking and then lit a candle. “Everyone will know by tomorrow,” he said, “so I may as well tell you now. We’re going to pull off the stunt for which we’ve been training all summer. We believe that we’ve got the Hun guessing; he doesn’t know where we are. By marching only at night and camping in woods by day, we’ve thrown him off our track. He knows that something is going to be pulled off and he’s restless; but he doesn’t suspect us in this part of the line—he’s looking for us further north. That he is still kept in ignorance must be the aim of every man and officer. Success depends on it. Our job is just this. On August 8th at dawn we attack. That gives us three days to make all our preparations. The work of building the gun-platforms and stocking the positions with ammunition must be carried on only by night. By day everything must be quiet—any unusual movement would give away all our plans. The enemy has the high ground: he can look directly down on’ us. We’re taking over from the French, so if the enemy sees khaki uniforms in this part of the line instead of blue-gray, he’ll know at once what to expect. We shan’t drag our guns into position until the night before the show commences. We shan’t register them—we shall get them on for line with instruments; so the first shot we fire will be in the attack and the first knowledge he has that there’s a concentration of artillery in this area will be at the identical moment when our infantry are advancing behind the tanks. By that time he’ll know too late; we shall have captured his defences. There’s only one other thing I want to say before we get to work on details: the positions which have been allotted to us are so exposed that he can look almost down the muzzles of our guns. Any tracks made on the turf will give us away: even if they’ve escaped his observers, they’ll show up on his aeroplane photographs. You must camouflage your ammunition with the greatest care, making use of natural camouflage to the greatest extent, such as ditches, wheat-fields and the shadows of trees.