ranks as we marched out into the darkness."

"You will never be wigged by me for bringing such a battalion as this,
a few men over strength. We will need them all. Good luck to you,
Colonel." We shook hands, and he started over to review the 16th
Battalion.

"I am the Officer Commanding the Second Army," and I was saluting and
shaking hands with General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien. With Sir John
French were the principal officers of the British Expeditionary Force.

General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien I had often heard of and he impressed
me more than any officer I had hitherto met. Above medium height,
broad-shouldered, with head set square on his shoulders, he seemed the
living embodiment of resolution and force. His manner was kind and
courteous.

He reminded me that our regiment had sent a detachment to England to
the manoeuvres, some years previous, and that he had had the pleasure
of meeting some of the officers.

He complimented me upon the fine appearance of the battalion and
passed on.

Another officer shook hands. It was Prince Arthur of Connaught.

"Good luck to you, Colonel, and your fine regiment."

Then another officer stopped and shook hands. It was Lord Brooke. He
had commanded the Canadian forces at Petawawa the year before when we
were there. "I expect to get a command in the Canadians shortly," he
informed me. He did. He got a Brigade in the Second Division.

In a few minutes the review was over and we marched back to our
billets in Caestre.

Two days before the battalion had marched out of Hazebrouck hospital,
leaving a picquet behind to clean up and bring along any stragglers.
Thank goodness we were not bothered with many of them, and if it had
not been for the bad weather at Salisbury Plains, which accounted for
nearly seventy-five good men in the hospitals, we would have had very
few weaklings.

We took the main road which turns north from Hazebrouck to Caestre. We
were going into billets in the war zone. The place where we were to be
billeted was just back of the centre of the line held by the British.
East, slightly north, was the famous town of Ypres, due east twelve
miles was Armentieres, southwest seventeen miles was La Bassee, south
was Bethune, fifteen miles away. East twenty miles, or about as far as
Port Credit from Toronto, was the famous fortress of Lille held by the
Germans. We were in old French Flanders.

The farmers were ploughing and working in the fields as we marched
al