Yesterday my working party had orders suddenly to shift its quarters to a spot farther up the line. Having struck camp we started off about 2 P.M. in motor char-a-bancs and lorries. After about two hours' plunging about in roads that were like quagmires we arrived at our destination, a newly formed railhead, not far from the battle line. It is situated on a sort of plateau. The surrounding country is thick with guns. In the past twelve hours there has been a terrific bombardment, the guns booming incessantly. Even Loos, which wasn't so bad while it lasted, pales into insignificance in comparison. At night the sky reminds one of the Crystal Palace firework show in its palmiest days. It is a fine place this from the point of view of health, being high up and open to the fresh air and the sunshine. I am feeling absolutely splendid both in health and spirits. It is a treat to be up where things are happening. _September 12th, 1916._ Pursuant to orders from the Division, I marched my party up to join another working party that is engaged on duty whose scope extends as far as the most recently gained ground. We are quartered along with a lot of cavalry at a point in the area captured, and are just in front of our big guns. The country all around is a veritable abomination of desolation. Its surface is intersected at innumerable points with ditches, in which much splendid English blood has flowed. Here and there, looking very forlorn, are stark and blasted stumps that used to be woods. Above and around the ceaseless voice of the guns fills the air with its clamour. Steel helmets and gas helmets are the standing order for us when on duty. Whom do you think I met this morning to my great delight? No less a person than Peaker,[12] now an officer of the K.R.R.s. He was just back from a certain spot in the line, where his lot had "gone over" with good results. The story of his experiences occasioned heartburnings to myself as regards the part I've been playing in the war behind the battle line. He had recently met Cartwright, G. T. K. Clarke, and the elder Dawson--all old Alleynians, who have had the privilege of participating in the "push." On the advice of the Divisional A.A. and Q.M.G., I am reluctantly leaving over the question of transfer to the R.F.A. till things get more settled. At present I am away from the Division, and it is difficult, almost impossible in fact, for me to arrange the interviews with the Medical and Artillery authorities that are necessary as a preliminary to transfer. Still, as I am getting plenty of interesting work at my present job I don't mind waiting.