During the 29th, the 57th Rifles suffered only a few casualties, but on the morning of 30th October the Germans plastered the trenches of the 4th and 5th Cavalry Brigades with shrapnel and high explosive and attacked with infantry. About 2 P.M. a portion of the troops north of the 5th Cavalry Brigade was compelled to fall back, thus exposing the trenches to the south to enfilade fire, and the Brigade commenced a retirement from its left flank. Captain Forbes of the 57th, with No. 3 Company, by some mischance did not receive the orders to retire in time and became isolated. The enemy was soon on both his flanks, but Forbes is made of the stuff that never acknowledges danger. He was severely wounded a day or two after and invalided, but I was glad to have an opportunity on his rejoining, of placing him on the Corps Staff as Camp Commandant. As the company retired, a half of it with its leader, Lieut. I. H. Clarke, was mown down by machine-gun fire, only a few getting away. As the Commanding Officer put it tersely but with how much pathos—“They did not return.” The survivors moved back to Wytschaete. Major Willans, a sturdy soldier, with No. 1 Company farther to the right had fared slightly better and was able to withdraw with his machine-gun to the east of the Wytschaete-Messines Road. The bombardment of the trenches and Wytschaete continued during the 30th and 31st October, and on this latter night, between 3 and 4 A.M., the Germans made an infantry attack in overwhelming numbers. The supports were commanded by Major E. E. Barwell, and on hearing the burst of musketry he pushed forward but was killed as he advanced. A personal friend and a brave gentleman, he died as he once told me he hoped he might. No. 4 Company of the 57th was bearing the weight of a strong attack at the same time, and Captain R. S. Gordon commanding No. 2 Company at once led them to its assistance. As the Highlander leaped from his trench he was killed; and thus passed away an ideal soldier. “Jock” Gordon was a very uncommon man, loved by all who knew him, of a nature that knew no guile, literally worshipped by his men, on that cold October morn he found his place in the Valhalla of his northern land. Lieut. Malony, notwithstanding that he was opposed to vastly superior advancing numbers, kept up so heavy a fire that the enemy began to cry a halt and endeavour to dig themselves in. He held on as long as his ammunition lasted but was then himself severely wounded and incapacitated.