of shell that had fallen on my greatcoat as I slept.
He laughingly remarked that everybody said I bore a charmed life and
the shells never bothered me, so as his dugout had become untenable he
had come up where he could find a quiet "restful" place.

He informed me that since the battle began on the 22nd he had seen and
sustained more rifle and shell fire than had been his lot during the
whole South African campaign. He and his hardworking chief,
Lt.-Colonel Hughes, had not had any rest since the previous Thursday.

Sergt. Coe made the General comfortable in the bottom of the trench
beside me, and in a few minutes he was sound asleep with the shells
still beating their infernal tatoo in the heavens over us.

A number of French troops had come up and so had the gallant Lahore
Division consisting of Indian troops, and they had attacked the
Germans and driven them back some distance towards Pilken.

No jauntier soldier ever trode the plains of Flanders than the brave
Ghurkas. Short and swarthy with that peculiar elastic step and well
set-up figure which can only be obtained by a rigorous course of
physical setting up drill of the old style with "thumbs behind the
seams of the trousers," the Ghurkas are in a class by themselves.
Their battalions are led by pipe bands. The weird music of the
Highland Glens seems to have the same potency with the Indian
Highlanders that it has with the Scottish and Canadian. In a charge at
close quarters the Ghurka uses a peculiar shaped knife with a blade as
heavy as a butcher's cleaver and keen as a razor. Like the Highland
Pipers who play

"Mo dhith mo dhith gun tri lamhan
Da laimh 'sa phiob 's laimh 'sa chlaidheamh."

"My loss, my loss, without three hands
Two for my pipes and one for my sword,"

the Ghurka bewails his great loss, also that he has not three hands,
two for the pipes and one for his "crookie."

That evening orders came through that we were to march out again and
we followed the old line along the hedges and ditches back to our
transport. We found that our transport had been moved further back to
a field on the Ypres Poperinghe Road to avoid shelling. We were all
thoroughly done out when we arrived and we had a good sleep.

Next morning we had roll call and counted our losses. It was the
saddest moment in the history of our regiment.

The "roll call" showed killed, wounded and missing, seventeen officers
and six hundred and seventy-four men, a fea