her at all as we floundered over the slippery cobble stones into
Vlamertinghe. At the cross-roads that formed the battalion rendezvous in
case of alarm, we got into some kind of military formation, for we spied
the gaunt figure of the colonel there sitting his horse like a centaur.
A grim man he was, who never spared his horses, himself or his men, and
his only comment as we hobbled past was, "Dress up those fours!"--and
tired as we were, the fours dressed up. When, however, Captain H----,
who had gone to the rear of the company to chase up stragglers, came by,
his greeting was a little more personal. "All well, H----?" he asked,
and our gallant skipper answered, "All present, sir." It showed rather
plainly the difference in feeling that existed for some time between
those who had been through the Second Battle of Ypres and those who had
not--a difference that it took much hard fighting to outweigh.

At last the company ahead turned down a side street, and we marched into
our billet alone. It was a deserted warehouse with plenty of straw and
quite comfortable, and, having got our men safely stowed away, the
officers walked across the road to an empty house that formed our
billets.

On the way H---- pointed out the coffee waggon of which mention has been
made. A sad-looking wreck it was, too, as a result of a stray shell. The
ladies who had been in charge of it had been swooped down upon and
gathered in by an irate provost-marshal some days before the shelling,
and were, I am told, sent back to England for venturing so near the
front line. The loss to the battalion was, however, immeasurable, as the
ladies had been most devoted, and no matter at what hour the troops came
in there was always a cup of coffee or soup awaiting them, and a
smile--a smile that means so much to men whose hearts are lonely. Truly
Raemaekers struck a key-note when, in his address in London, he asked
England to "keep on smiling."

Arriving at the house, we found coffee ready and breakfast in the
process of preparation. Bacon, an omelette, toast and marmalade (plum
jam being out of season), it was a feast for the gods, any minor
deficiencies being overcome by the keenness of our appetites. Then,
having satisfied the inner man, we climbed the crooked little stairs to
the bedrooms, where we found our bedding rolls stretched out on some
mattresses the owners had left in their haste, and in three minutes we
were asleep. Never did any bed seem more we