We had intended to close here the present chapter. But our impression of life at the front with the 62nd Division is incomplete without reference to the mimic warfare and the relaxation from war which likewise formed part of its experience. On that very day, June 16th, when the Bullecourt sector was finally consolidated, Divisional Sports were being held at Achiet-le-Petit. In a Coliseum made out of a German crater, which we illustrate from a pencil-sketch on the spot, the Divisional Band was playing on June 14th, and boxing contests were being fought. Two days later, a Gymkhana was held, in which some of the chief events were dribbling a football on horseback,[81] driving a pair of mules tandem,[82] and collecting stones to drop into a bucket.[83] On June 20th, three Officers of the 2/5th West Ridings rode from Achiet-le-Petit to Thiepval, and went over the ground which had been fought by the 1st Line Battalion of their Regiment nearly a year before. ‘Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit,’ they may have thought, as they contrasted their leisurely ride with the heat of battle which the site recalled; and the same thought, applied to their own experience, may have revealed the hope of a future day when Bullecourt, like Thiepval, would be remembered as a past stage in a victorious advance. CHAPTER X I.—THE NORTHERN RIDGES Between the Battle of Arras in the Spring and the Battle of Cambrai in the Autumn came the Third Battle of Ypres in the Summer. This middle battle in time (with which, in the history of the West Riding, we shall not be much concerned) was the northernmost battle in space, and its success, if it had been fully successful, would have been amphibious in kind. It would have rendered untenable by Germany the sea-bases of her submarine campaign, thus relieving the food-problem for the Allies, and it would have removed the military peril, fought out to a standstill in 1915, which threatened Paris and the Channel ports. On this account, as we saw in the last Chapter, the northernmost battle of the three was originally the chief in significance according to Sir Douglas Haig’s plans. If we may regard the long Allied line, say, from Reims to the sea, throughout, and even beyond, the fighting season of 1917, as the scene of a single battle, we must add that the course of that battle did not follow Sir Douglas Haig’s wishes. We read above of a ‘revised’ scheme, of ‘restricted’ preparations for the attack in Flanders, and we infer (indeed, we are informed) that, if Haig had been in sole Command of the Allied Forces on the Western front, he would have disposed the programme a little differently. Happily, it is not our business to judge the strategy of the war. Our task is to narrate the part which was played by a few thousand Yorkshiremen in bringing the war to a victorious close. Strategy was not in their contract: the Colonel obeyed his Brigadier, the General his Corps Commander; and even in a larger sphere, Sir Douglas