en some barriers and
come to rest before others, again to become a stone wall. But it knew
that the thing could be done with guns and shells enough--and only
with enough. This means a good deal when you have been under
dog for a long time. Months were to pass waiting for enough shells
and guns, with many little actions and their steady drain of life, while
everyone looked back to Neuve Chapelle as a landmark. It was
something definite for a man to say that he had been wounded at
Neuve Chapelle and quite indefinite to say that he had been
wounded in the course of the day's work in the trenches.

No one might see the battle in that sea of mud. He might as well have
looked at the smoke of Vesuvius with an idea of learning what was
going on inside of the crater. I make no further attempt at describing
it. My view came after the battle was over and the cauldron was still
steaming.

Though in March, 1914, one would hardly have given Neuve
Chapelle, intact and peaceful, a passing glance from a motor-car, in
March, 1915, Neuve Chapelle in ruins was the one town in Europe
which I most wanted to see. Correspondents had not then
established themselves. The staff officer whom I asked if I might
spend a night in the new British line was a cautious man. He bade me
sign a paper freeing the British army from any responsibility. Judging
by the general attitude of the Staff, one could hardly take the request
seriously. One correspondent less ought to please any Staff; but he
said that he had an affection for the regulars and knew that there
were always plenty of recruits to take their places without resorting to
conscription. The real responsibility was with the Germans. He
suggested that I might go out to the German trenches and see if I
could obtain a paper from them. He thought if I were quick about it I
might get at least a yard in front of the British parapet in daylight. His
sense of humour I had recognized when we had met in Bulgaria.

Any traveller is bound to meet men whom he has met before in the
travelled British army. At the brigade headquarters town, which, as
one of the officers said, proved that bricks and mortar can float in
mud, the face of the brigadier seemed familiar to me. I found that I
had met him in Shanghai in the Boxer campaign, when he had come
across a riotous China from India on one of those journeys in remote
Asia which British officers are fond of making. He was "all there,"
whether dealing with a mob o