tters you will be able to gather what mood we were in and
something of what the brigade despatch rider was doing. After the first
day the Germans ceased shrapnelling the fields round the farm and left
us nearly in peace. There I met Major Ballard, commanding the 15th
Artillery Brigade, one of the finest officers of my acquaintance, and
Captain Frost, the sole remaining officer of the Cheshires. He was
charming to me; I was particularly grateful for the loan of a razor,
for my own had disappeared and there were no despatch riders handy from
whom I could borrow.

Talking of the Cheshires reminds me of a story illustrating the troubles
of a brigadier. The general was dining calmly one night after having
arranged an attack. All orders had been sent out. Everything was
complete and ready. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and in walked
Captain M----, who reported his arrival with 200 reinforcements for the
Cheshires, a pleasant but irritating addition. The situation was further
complicated by the general's discovery that M---- was senior to the
officer then in command of the Cheshires. Poor M---- was not left long
in command. A fortnight later the Germans broke through and over the
Cheshires, and M---- died where a commanding officer should.

From 1910 Farm I had one good ride to the battalions, through Festubert
and along to the Cuinchy bridge. For me it was interesting because it
was one of the few times I had ridden just behind our trenches, which at
the moment were just north of the road and were occupied by the
Bedfords.

In a day or two we returned to Festubert, and Cadell gave me a
shake-down on a mattress in his billet--gloriously comfortable. The room
was a little draughty because the fuse of a shrapnel had gone right
through the door and the fireplace opposite. Except for a peppering on
the walls and some broken glass the house was not damaged; we almost
laughed at the father and mother and daughter who, returning while we
were there, wept because their home had been touched.

Orders came to attack. A beautiful plan was drawn up by which the
battalions of the brigade were to finish their victorious career in the
square of La Bassee.

In connection with this attack I was sent with a message for the Devons.
It was the blackest of black nights and I was riding without a light.
Twice I ran into the ditch, and finally I piled up myself and my bicycle
on a heap of stones lying by the side of the road. I did not