illet.

We remained in this spot for nearly a quarter of an hour, after which
R----d's platoon began to move on, and I followed at a good distance
with mine. We made our way to the clump of trees over which the
shrapnel had burst a few minutes before. Suddenly we found ourselves
floundering in a sunken road flooded with water knee-deep. This was
not exactly pleasant, especially when my guide informed me that he was
not quite certain as to our whereabouts. Luckily, we soon gained dry
ground again, turned off into a bit of trench which brought us into
the village, and made for the dump by the church, where we were to
pick up our materials. When we reached the church--or, rather, its
ruins--the road was so filled with parties and platoons, and it was
becoming so dark, that it took us some time before we found the dump.
Fortunately, the first person whom I spotted was the Regimental
Sergeant-Major, and I handed over to him the carrying-party which I
had to detail, also despatching the rum and soup parties--the latter
to the company cooker.

Leaving the platoon in charge of Sergeant S----l, I went with my guide
in search of the dump. In the general _melee_ I bumped into W----k. We
found the rabbit wire, barbed wire, and other material in a
shell-broken outhouse, and, grabbing hold of it, handed the stuff out
to the platoon.

As we filed through the village the reflections of star-shells threw
weird lights on half-ruined houses; an occasional shell screamed
overhead, to burst with a dull, echoing sound within the shattered
walls of former cottages; and one could hear the rat-tat-tat of
machine-guns. These had a nasty habit of spraying the village with
indirect fire, and it was, as always, a relief to enter the recesses
of Wood Street without having any one hit. This communication trench
dipped into the earth at right angles to the "Boulevard" Street. We
clattered along the brick-floored trench, whose walls were overhung
with the dewy grass and flowers of the orchard--that wonderful orchard
whose aroma had survived the horror and desolation of a two years'
warfare, and seemed now only to be intensified to a softer fragrance
by the night air.

Arriving at the belt of trees and hedge which marked the confines of
the orchard, we turned to the right into Cross Street, which cut along
behind the belt of trees into Woman Street.

Turning to the left up Woman Street, and leaving the belt of trees
behind, we wound into the slig