reaks did come it was doubly
hard to bear now.

For now we knew what it was to dread the sight of a telegraph
messenger. Few homes in Britain there are that do not share that
knowledge now. It is by telegraph, from the war office, that bad news
comes first. And so, with the memory of that first telegram that we
had had, matters were even worse, somehow, than they had been before.
For me the days and nights dragged by as if they would never pass.

There was more news in John's letters now. We took some comfort from
that. I remember one in which he told his mother how good a bed he
had finally made for himself the night before. For some reason he was
without quarters--either a billet or a dug-out. He had to skirmish
around, for he did not care to sleep simply in Flanders mud. But at
last he found two handfuls of straw, and with them made his couch.

"I got a good two hours' sleep," he wrote to his mother. "And I was
perfectly comfortable. I can tell you one thing, too, Mother. If I
ever get home after this experience, there'll be one in the house
who'll never grumble! This business puts the grumbling out of your
head. This is where the men are. This is where every man ought to be."

In another letter he told us that nine of his men had been killed.

"We buried them last night," he wrote, "just as the sun went down. It
was the first funeral I have ever attended. It was most impressive.
We carried the boys to one huge grave. The padre said a prayer, and
we lowered the boys into the ground, and we all sang a little hymn:
'Peace, Perfect Peace!' Then I called my men to attention again, and
we marched straight back into the trenches, each of us, I dare say,
wondering who would be the next."

John was promoted for the second time in Flanders. He was a captain,
having got his step on the field of battle. Promotion came swiftly in
those days to those who proved themselves worthy. And all of the few
reports that came to us of John showed us that he was a good officer.
His men liked him, and trusted him, and would follow him anywhere.
And little more than that can be said of any officer.

While Captain John Lauder was playing his part across the Channel, I
was still trying to do what I could at home. My band still travelled
up and down, the length and width of the United Kingdom, skirling and
drumming and drawing men by the score to the recruiting office.

There was no more talk now of a short war. We knew what we were in