I found myself mixed up with a French regiment on the right. I wanted to go forward with them, but the officer in charge shook his head and smiled. “They will spot you in your khaki and put you out in no time,” he said in English; “make your way to the left; you’ll find your fellows on that hill.” I watched the regiment till it disappeared; then I made my way across a field and up a big avenue of trees. The shells were whistling overhead, but there was nothing to be afraid of. Half-way up the avenue there was a German lancer officer lying dead by the side of the road. How he got there was a mystery because we had seen no cavalry. But there he lay, and someone had crossed his hands on his breast and put a little celluloid crucifix in his hands. Over his face was a beautiful little handkerchief--a lady’s--with a lace edging. It was a bit of a mystery because there wasn’t a lady for miles that I knew of: _A British Infantryman_. All Gone Letters have just arrived. How sad that the men cannot have them. We call the names out, but there is no answer. They perhaps know in heaven. Old England, when she hears about the battle, will be proud of us. The Germans were ten to one, and we outfought them. I have lost nearly all my best chums, and have seen some terrible sights. My pack was blown from my back, my cap was taken away, and a bullet or shell stripped my trousers from my thigh to the knee. Our colonel and nearly all the officers are gone. One chap in my company, only eighteen and a half years, had both legs blown away. The sergeant you shook hands with, ----, has gone: _Sergt. Roberts, Loyal Lancashires_. Fired! One night we spent in a pretty old village, where the people were very hospitable. They made some of us a bed on a cottage floor, and gave us food. Said good-bye and left about 5 A.M. A few hours later we looked back and saw the flames of the place mounting to the sky. Fired by the enemy, was the fate of that village and many more for giving our troops shelter for a night. Have seen thousands of refugees on the roads flying from the enemy, carrying all their worldly possessions on their backs. One sees many sad sights of this nature. Women tramping wearily along, sobbing with terror at the booming of the great guns and the distant glare of blazing homesteads. We have also seen hundreds of German prisoners, mostly looking “fed up.” Tried to have a chat with one the other morning, but owing to our respective knowledge of English and German being limited, conversation was ditto. Have just been told it’s Sunday to-day. Had quite lost count, as all days seem much alike: _Corpl. F. W. Street, R.E._ One Taken!