those who came and of those who went balanced like the figures in a
well-kept ledger. To me it always seemed that there were more going
than coming--an illusion certainly, since our camp never emptied. But
those who came were all strangers, while many of those who went were
friends, and many more were acquaintances. Therefore, the going left
gaps which the new-comers did not seem to fill.

The orders that a draft was to go to the front came to us in the
morning from the Officer Commanding Reinforcements. So many officers
and men of such-and-such a battalion were to proceed to such-or-such
a place. Lists, nominal rolls, were prepared in the orderly-room. The
men were warned. The officers rushed into town to complete their kit
or add to it small articles likely to be useful. Trench boots, trench
coats, tins of solidified methylated spirits, all sorts of odds and
ends, were picked up at the ordnance stores or at French shops which
dealt specially in such things. Advice was eagerly sought--and the
most curious advice taken--by those who had never been up the line
before. That last day at the base was busy and exciting. There was a
spirit of light-heartedness and gaiety abroad. We laughed more than
usual and joked oftener. Behind the laughter--who knows?

In the camp there was much going to and fro. Men stood in queues
outside the quartermaster's stores, to receive gas masks, first field
dressings, identification discs, and such things. Kits were once more
inspected, minutely and rigorously. Missing articles were supplied.
Entries were made in pay books.

Later on the men crowded into the canteen or the Y.M.C.A. hut.
Letters were written, pathetic scrawls many of them. There was a
feeling of excitement, tense and only half suppressed, among the men
who were going. There was no sign of depression or fear; certainly no
hint of any sadness of farewell.

For us who stayed behind it was different. I saw scores of these
drafts depart for the unknown, terrible front. I never got over the
feeling of awe. There are certain scenes which will abide in my
memory to the end of my life, which I do not think I can possibly
forget even afterwards, when my turn comes and I join those men who
went from us, of whom we next heard when their names appeared in the
lists of killed.

It was my custom to invite those who were going to "partake of the
most comfortable sacrament of the body and blood of Christ" before
they started. At first we