this
protection. Bottles of this fluid were carried by that long-suffering
man the platoon sergeant, and parades held showing the men how to adjust
and use the respirators.

Later we received flannel hoods, with mica windows, that had been dipped
in the same solution, and these gave place in turn to the present gas
helmet--a fearsome-looking affair, which, however, gives almost complete
protection.

Our stay in Bailleul was enlivened by the arrival of a draft and the
posting up of a schedule of training. The draft, needless to say, was
the more welcome of the two. With the draft--who were magnificently-built
men from the Middle West--we received a major who took command of the
company, Captain H---- dropping back as second in command. We thought
this was rather hard lines, but H---- made no complaint, though he felt
it rather keenly, but finding our new man had the South African ribbon,
we were a bit mollified.

Here, too, we held a memorial service for our fallen comrades, a
powerful address being delivered by Major the Rev. William Beatty, one
of the brigade chaplains. The troops, both old and new, were addressed,
too, by Major-General Alderson, the divisional commander, who spoke of
what the old men had done that the new men might understand what was
expected of them, and stated that from now on he would count on us all
as old troops.

Then we marched away feeling we were now a definite part of the old
regiment, and a few days later started our trek southward.

We had entered another epoch!

CHAPTER XIII

THE TREK SOUTH

Until we left Bailleul the Canadian Division had been a part of the 2nd
Army under Sir Herbert Plumer. We were now to go to the other end of the
British line and become part of the 1st Army, then commanded by the
present Commander-in-Chief, Sir Douglas Haig.

The news of this change was greeted with little enthusiasm by the old
soldiers in our midst, but old soldiers are invariably pessimists, and
imagine that every inspection is the prelude to more "dirty work at the
cross-roads" and that every change made in their dispositions is for the
worst.

Still, we were all sorry to leave Bailleul, with its bright little
shops, and to say good-bye to the _cure_ and our other friends there.

We fell in at night in the Grande Place--the little square that has
probably seen more British troops come and go than any other town in
northern France--and waited there for the battalion to form u