Cave life had its alleviations, and chief among these was the pleasure of
anticipating our week in reserve. We could look forward to this with
certainty. During the long stalemate on the western front, British
military organization has been perfected until, in times of quiet, it
works with the monotonous smoothness of a machine. (Even during periods
of prolonged and heavy fighting there is but little confusion. Only
twice, during six months of campaigning, did we fail to receive our daily
post of letters and parcels from England, and then, we were told, the
delay was due to mine-sweeping in the Channel.) With every detail of
military routine carefully thought out and every possible emergency
provided for in advance, we lived as methodically in the firing-line as
we had during our months of training in England.

The movements of troops in and out of the trenches were excellently
arranged and timed. The outgoing battalion was prepared to move back as
soon as the "relief" had taken place. The trench water-cans had been
filled,--an act of courtesy between battalions,--the dugouts thoroughly
cleaned, and the refuse buried. The process of "taking over" was a very
brief one. The sentries of the incoming battalion were posted, and
listening patrols sent out to relieve those of the outgoing battalion,
which then moved down the communication trenches, the men happy in the
prospect of a night of undisturbed sleep.

Second only to sleep in importance was the fortnightly bath. Sometimes we
cleansed ourselves, as best we could, in muddy little duck ponds,
populous with frogs and green with scum; but oh, the joy when our march
ended at a military bathhouse! The Government had provided these whenever
possible, and for several weeks we were within marching distance of one.
There we received a fresh change of underclothing, and our uniforms were
fumigated while we splashed and scrubbed in great vats of clean warm
water. The order, "Everybody out!" was obeyed with great reluctance, and
usually not until the bath attendants of the Army Service Corps enforced
it with the cold-water hose. Tommy, who has a song for every important
ceremonial, never sang, "Rule Britannia" with the enthusiasm which marked
his rendition of the following chorus:--

"Whi--ter than the whitewash on the wall!
Whi--ter than the whitewash on the wall!
If yer leadin' us to slaughter
Let us 'ave our soap an' water--FIRST!
Then we'll be whiter t