n the rest area and was due to take over the line on the
fourth day. There was not much time, therefore, to get acquainted with
our fellow officers or to learn much about the platoons to which we
were assigned. Several of the officers we had known well at home in
the 3rd line battalion at Alnwick, and Major N.I. Wright and Capt. J.
Welch and Lieuts. J.W. Merivale and Fenwicke Clennell were old
friends. Also we had already met our new battalion commander
Lieut.-Col. G. Scott Jackson at Alnwick when he was last on leave. It
was nice to be greeted by friendly faces when our trials were so soon
to begin.

The last few hours before going back to the line are always rather
dreary and unprofitable, spent chiefly in packing up and deciding
what to leave behind. Valises of course were left behind with all
'spare parts' in the Q.M.'s stores. But in winter a fairly heavy load
of things was necessary, and the weather was wet and stormy. We had no
steel helmets in these days and no gas box-respirators, only two cloth
respirators of little weight. I found myself in charge of No. 4
Platoon in A Company, of which Capt. H.R. Smail was commander. There
were two other 2nd-Lieuts. in the company besides myself. The fighting
strength of a company did not much exceed 100 men, if as many.

Before we left Canada Huts, I was provided with a batman, coming of
course from A Company. And a good fellow he was and much I owe to him.
He has looked after me continuously from the day after I arrived until
he was demobilised on December 24, 1918--nearly three years. A miner
from Ashington, wounded at St. Julien in April 1915, he had rejoined
the battalion some months before in France. At a later stage I had to
rely much on his skill as a cook. A wonderfully cheerful person and a
smart and handy man at improvising little comforts for me. His name
was William Critchlow.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Fortunately I never had occasion to use them.

V

HILL 60

When it was beginning to get dark the battalion formed up in the road
and the roll was called over. At last we set off slowly, squelching
through the mud on the wet roads, the rain pouring down unceasingly.
We soon struck the pave road that runs through Dickebusch, a long
straggling village, still fairly intact and occupied by Belgian
civilians. It was shelled now and again but not severely. When we
reached this place, the battalion opened out considerably, platoons
keeping 200 yards apart; a prec