-en-Gohelle.

The day after I arrived, I determined to do some parish visiting in
the slums--as I called the front line. I started off in my old trench
uniform and long habitant boots, carrying with me a supply of bully-beef,
tinned milk and hardtack. I went through Bully-Grenay and then out
through Maroc to Loos. Here once again the dressing station at Fort
Glatz was occupied by a doctor and staff from one of our ambulances. I
spent a little while there and then continued my journey up the road
past Crucifix Corner to the trenches. The 7th and 8th Battalions were
in the line. The day was fine and the warm sunshine was hardening the
mud, so things did not look too unpleasant. I went to the 7th Battalion
first and found the gallant men carrying on in the usual way. Hugo
Trench was very quiet, and from it one could obtain a good view of the
German lines and of Lens beyond. It was great fun to go into the saps
and surprise the two or three men who were on guard in them. The (p. 236)
dugouts were curious places. The entrance steps were steep, and
protected by blankets to keep out gas. At the bottom would be a long
timber-lined passage, dark and smelly, out of which two or three
little rooms would open. The men off duty would be lying about on the
floor sound asleep, and it was often hard to make one's way among the
prostrate bodies. The officers' mess would have a table in it and
boxes for seats. On a shelf were generally some old newspapers or
magazines and a pack of cards. In the passage, making it narrower than
ever, were a few shelves used as bunks. At the end of the passage
would be the kitchen, supplied with a rude stove which sent its smoke
up a narrow pipe through a small opening. In the trenches the cooks
were always busy, and how they served up the meals they did was a
mystery to me. Water was brought in tins from a tap in one of the
trenches to the rear, and therefore was not very abundant. I have
occasionally, and against my will, seen the process of dish-washing in
the trenches. I could never make out from the appearance of the water
whether the cook and his assistant were washing the plates or making
the soup, the liquid in the tin dish was so thick with grease.
However, it was part of the war, and the men were doing their best
under most unpropitious circumstances.

I had come prepared to spend a night in the trenches, and had decided
to do so in the large German-made dugout in the chalk-pit which was
hel