derful.

At this moment I received a message calling me to headquarters, and I
at once went to find my C.O.

"Well, had a good rest?" he asked.

"Not much, sir."

"Stuff and nonsense; get your map out."

I spread my map out on my knees and took a note-book out of my pocket.

The C.O. pointed on the map with his pencil:

"We are here; the ---- Regiment is there."

"Front line, sir?"

"Right bang up in the front line."

"What are the trenches like, sir?"

"No time to dig trenches; they're hanging on to a few shell-holes,
though they may have connected them up by now. See, there's Combles,
and that's Leuze Wood. We shall be on the extreme right of the British
army. B Company will be on the right; C Company in the centre, and A
Company on the left with D Company in support. Headquarters will be
close by Falfemont Farm."

"Very good, sir."

"You won't find any farm left; been blown to dust. Men are to go in
battle order; packs are to be parked just outside here, by companies.
No. 5 platoon will move off at 7 P.M., the remainder following in
succession at fifty yards' interval."

I understood, and turned to go.

"By the way, I am not sure whether the Germans are in that trench or
the ---- Battalion, London Regiment. Anyhow, that's where we've got to
be to-night."

Half an hour later and the men were laying out their packs in long
rows, by companies. Strange sight, all these packs laid out in neat
rows. The reason did not need explaining. There was work at the other
end of that Valley of Death; there lay the pit of the Great Adventure.
Perhaps to-night we should look into it; but how many would come back
to claim their packs.

We are in the soup with a vengeance! Well, who cares?

Early that afternoon I went to my dugout, and was just trying to get a
little rest, when I was disturbed by a voice outside, which sounded
strangely familiar.

"Sergeant, excuse me, but is this the beastly hole where B Company is
to be found?"

"Yes, sir, this is B Company's line."

"'Pon me word, extraordinary place! Demned hot; walked nearly five
miles. Where's the captain?"

"In his dugout, sir, near that shell-hole."

"I've got to report to him; will you tell him I'm here?"

"Hadn't you better go to him, sir?"

"Oh! Is that the thing to do?"

At that moment, unable to restrain my curiosity, I came out of my
dugout, and there, sure enough, was none other than the irresistible
pattern of Bond Street, Septimus D'