rode out about 6 P.M. to the
trenches, remaining there till 3 A.M. or even 6 A.M.--to superintend
the work and struggle about in the mud all night. He never spared
himself an ounce. He was occasionally so nearly dead with want of
sleep that I once or twice ordered him to take a night's sleep; but he
always got out of it on some pretext or other.

[Footnote 26: He had received the V.C. for a particularly
plucky piece of raft work under heavy fire at Missy.]

And with it all he was as plucky as the devil--he seemed to like
getting shot at. One night he got a ricochet bullet over his heart,
but this only put him in a furious rage (if you can use the word about
such a seeming mild person), and spent the next twenty-four hours in
collecting ammunition and bombs and extra trench-mortars and firing
them himself; this seemed to soothe him. He was a wonderful fellow all
round, always full of expedients and never disheartened by the cruel
collapse of all his plans caused by the wet weather; and if there was
a dangerous piece of work on hand, he was always first in giving the
lead. One very nasty place on the left there was which was commanded
by the enemy at short range, yet we could not dig in it, as the water
was only a foot below the ground, and breastworks there were
practically impossible; yet if the enemy had seized this bit they
would have enfiladed the rest of the line; why they did not do so I do
not know. He was always pressing me to attack the Germans at this
point and seize a bit of false crest that they held; but my better
judgment was against it, as, if we had taken the bit, we should have
been commanded there from three sides instead of one, and could not
have held it for half an hour. I know Johnston's private opinion of me
in this matter was that I was a funk, but he was too polite to say so.
After I left, the following Brigade not only did not attack the point,
but fell back some distance here, "on its own"; and I am sure they
were right.

Poor Johnston--he became Brigade-Major after Weatherby left for the
5th Divisional Staff (some time in April 1915, I think), and, as I
remarked, was killed shortly afterwards. His death was a very heavy
loss to the Brigade.

At Dranoutre we--that is, the Brigade staff--lived in a perpetual
atmosphere of mud and draughts. The Cure's house was very small and
very dirty, and was not improved by the pounds of mud which every one
brought in on his boots at a