owed down.

Merville is a nice prosperous little town, with canals and parks and a
distinctly good modern statue of a French soldier in the middle--by
whom, and of whom, I have forgotten. It was, oddly enough, almost like
an extra-European bit of civilisation, for the streets were swarming
with Indians and Africans of both armies--tall, solemn, handsome Sikhs
and Rajputs in khaki; Spahis, Algerians, and Moors in every variety of
kit--red jackets, cummerbunds, and baggy breeches, bright blue
jackets, white breeches, blue breeches, khaki breeches, dark blue
_vareuses_, white burnouses, Arab corded turbans, baggy crimson
trousers, &c., &c., even to Senegalese as black as night, and Berbers
from Mauritania and the Atlas. I tried to talk to some of the latter,
but it was not a success, for they did not understand my Arabic, and
I did not understand their Shlukh.

And so on _via_ Strazeele--where Saunders and his Dorsets had already
arrived--contentedly to Pradelles, in which neighbourhood we billeted,
and were met by a staff officer, Cameron of the 5th Divisional Staff,
who gave us the welcome news that we were to rest and recuperate for
at least a week--really and truly this time.

We put up at a nice, bright, ugly little chateau belonging to an
elderly lady who was most civil and told us stories of what the
Germans had done when they passed through a week or two ago on their
retreat eastwards. Amongst other abominations, they had, on arrival,
demanded of the old cure the key of the church tower, on which they
wished to put a Maxim. The old man, not having the key, had hobbled
off to get it from the garde champetre, who happened to be in
possession of it for the time being. He could not, however, find him,
and the officer in command, being in a diabolical temper, put the poor
old priest up against a wall and shot him dead on the spot. This was
recounted by the cure's sister, and there was not a shadow of doubt
on the matter, for it was confirmed by all.

_Oct. 31st._

Next day was a clear bright Sunday, and before we had come down to
breakfast, looking forward to a nice lazy day, we were ordered to send
the Dorsets away in motor-buses to Wulverghem (opposite Messines),
where heavy fighting was going on. So much for our promised week's
rest! And before 11 o'clock we had received another urgent telegram
telling us to fall in at once and march eastwards through Bailleul.

I was deputed to command the whole of the rema