Perpetual bodily exercise in war, as in peace, should be insisted on in all ranks; it is the fulcrum of the health lever. In the early days of the war and in the bog which is an ever-present feature of the Flanders landscape I found it most difficult to get to the advanced trenches owing to the impossibility of dragging my steel-bound leg (a legacy of past campaigns) through the mud, and more than once in consequence I found myself riding past sentries who had been posted on roads leading to the vicinity of the trenches to stop all horses or vehicles proceeding any farther. I suppose it was wrong to disobey orders, but the gallant sentinels generally let me pass, only remarking, “All right, pass as the orders are your own.” It was always an interesting experience. After we had managed to dig communication trenches and improve the drainage, and as the wet decreased, visits to the firing-line were not only in themselves a very good form of exercise, but in truth the most interesting and exciting exercise one could take. I can see the reader, who perhaps spent most of his days in that unenviable region, smile, but I say again, for a General and his Staff the visits to the trenches form their most pleasant recollections. When one talks of riding across country, it has to be borne in mind that during October and even into November there were days when this was quite feasible, later on it became absolutely necessary to stick to the roads, or what went by that name, as the fields were mere bogs; and often have I been in deep sympathy with my brave chargers, who hammered along the stony tracks or _pavés_. It had to be done, however, if riding was to be a means of conveyance, and I had the satisfaction of feeling that in the case of my favourite arab, “Arabi Pasha,” no one after his own master would ever mount the faithful horse, and I believe he knew it also. It was one of the farewells one does not wish to repeat. What manner of country was it in which the Indian Corps now found itself? A dismal dead plain, dotted with farm-houses and here and there clumps of trees. The uninteresting roads metalled only in the centre; ditches and drains in every direction; observation beyond a very limited distance impossible, and for months the morning mists enveloped everything in a thick haze well into mid-day; canals, crossed here and there by bridges, added to the difficulties of communication. The fields soon became impassable; ditto the paths except on foot; rain fell almost daily; snow fell heavily in November; the trenches were first turned into water channels and then frozen over. Above, the aeroplanes seemed the only moving things besides the clouds; below was a waterlogged soil, and on the surface lived and died men who will be handed down for all time as heroes. This monotonous land boasted no hills and valleys, not even a mound; it was just a flat dreary expanse in winter, and studded with green leaves and some wild flowers in summer.