On the 5th November the 8th British Brigade, attached to us, recaptured and filled in the trenches evacuated by the 2nd Gurkhas. On the same day Major E. H. Phillips commanding the 28th Battery, 9th Brigade R.F.A., was killed. He had climbed a haystack to get better observation, when a shell ended his career. He was one of my best friends and comrades in the days when we tramped and fought through the swamps and forests of Ashanti, and later we soldiered together in more peaceful times in India. A splendid gunner and a charming personality, he was a real loss to the service; but he left a perfect battery behind him. What more could a soldier do? As the days went on both officers and men acquired a knowledge of the novel methods of warfare. The Indians were at last brigaded with their own British battalions; they had behind them their own guns, transport, supplies and hospitals, and they were finding out that the wounded or strayed need only move in one direction to find friends who could understand their language. The chaotic state of affairs when they were mixed up anyhow with absolute strangers was passing away, and a sense of cheerfulness which was bred of this knowledge soon began to manifest itself. But even so it took time, and in some cases a very long time, to obliterate from their minds the memory of their first rough experiences, and in conversation with Indian officers and men I learnt many lessons on how things might have been done. They said plainly, “We were not given a chance; and if we get ‘bud nāāmed’ (a bad name) it is not our fault.” Some of the tales the first arrivals in France brought back from Messines and near Neuve Chapelle were soon spread through the ranks of the new arrivals, and any one who knows India also knows what this means. One incident at once proved the innate love of fair play inherent in the sepoy. In the German lines a document had been found, directing that mercy was not to be shown to the Indians, and a day later the 15th Sikhs brought back twelve prisoners from a raid. The only comment made by the havildar of the party was, that the Germans might do as they pleased, but he and his men were soldiers not dacoits. The enemy early began to try the effect of using English when on the prowl near our lines, and one man, dressed exactly like a British officer of Gurkhas, came right up to the trenches, and in good English said the company was to move farther along the trench to make room for another company moving up in support. The British officer in command being suspicious of the accent asked, “Who are you?” and the reply was the same as before. “Answer at once by what ship you came to France,” was our officer’s next query, and the disguised German started to run but was shot dead. Similar ruses were not uncommon, and notwithstanding the difficulty of our men being able to discriminate, the Hun generally got off second best.