at least twelve square miles, around the village of Loos,
between Hulluch and Lens, was a desperate network of trenches and
bomb-proof shelters.

On the night of September 24th the London Irish received their orders
and marched out to take up their allotted positions. "What a sight!"
writes one of the men. "Almost pitch dark, as light near the firing
line must not be--just a few glimmers here and there to mark cross
roads, and those are lanterns, mostly on the ground, in charge of one
or more soldiers, according to the importance of the posts, whose job
it is to control the traffic. Now and again a more or less lurid
illumination comes from the star shells that are used between the
trenches while searchlights sweep across the sky. Artillery flashes
continuously and the roar of the guns is added to the crash and rattle
of the traffic on the roads." At a point in the march Brigadier-General
Twaites was standing to see the battalion go by. He shook hands with
the officers and wished them "Good luck." He told the men that he was
expecting great things of them. "Remember," he said, "that the London
Irish has been chosen to lead the whole Division."

The trenches were reached about midnight. It was an inclement and
dreary time. Rain was falling in torrents. For over six hours the men
had to wait in sodden clothes in a trench of slush for the order which
would mean death to many, to others racking and disabling wounds, and
to all who survived the heartache for loved comrades gone for ever.
Yet how cheerful they were! To say that none of them were afraid would
be to convey that each was a bloodless abstraction. Whatever else an
Irishman may be he certainly is never that. He is a hot-blooded human
creature, with more than his share of the passions and desires which
agitate the heart of man, and so he is prone at times to have fits of
depression and despair. It is possible, then, that the minds of some
were darkened by gloomy forebodings. But as an instance of the general
stout-heartedness of the men, an officer told me that many of them
took out cigarettes, and, having lighted them, held the burning match
at arm's length to see if their hands were steady as they waited under
the shadow of death. Just at the last moment, too, the liveliest
interest was aroused by a rumour which ran along the trenches. It was
said that some particularly bright spirits in the battalion had
arranged to make the coming charge for ever memorable by a