. One of the
features of the place was the number and size of the rats; they looked
the size of rabbits as they scuttered along the trenches at night.
Another was the awful taste of the water we got to drink. It was
boiled and it was turned into strong tea, but it had a most
indescribably horrible taste. The food, on the other hand, was
excellent and plenty of it. In the light of subsequent rations these
were indeed the days of plenty. Owing to the kindness of some friends
of the battalion in England, both officers and men were supplied with
sheep-skin coats or jackets which were wonderfully good in keeping out
the cold at night. 'Stand-to' was a regular institution of trench
warfare, both an hour before dark and an hour before dawn. Naturally
the latter was the more trying, but at this time the rum ration was
served out; and it certainly prevented you from being frozen stiff and
enabled you to get to sleep again if your duties did not keep you to
the trenches. A very curious life in the trenches, a very small world
but every bit of it packed full of interest and novelty to me. From
the trenches, if you looked backwards, there was a splendid view of
Ypres, with its shattered spires and houses, still a beautiful grey
ruin, even in death. I was destined to have a much closer acquaintance
with it later. Beyond the usual rounds of shelling on both sides
nothing of particular interest happened during the next three days. On
the evening of January 19 we were relieved by a company of the 5th
N.F. (Capt. North M.C.), and moved out after dark for a short rest in
close support.

My career as a platoon commander in the trenches was a short one, for
as it happened that was my first and last experience as such. We moved
out and back for about a mile, eventually reaching a house called
Blauwpoorte Farm.[3] It was not a bad place then, and was not shelled,
though at night the bullets used to rattle round if you walked abroad.
Here on the second day I took a small party of men, as a working
party, to the shelters at the 'Sunken Road,' rather nearer the line. I
think we were engaged in clearing the road of mud and generally
cleaning up. On the way there I saw some rather humourous notices
stuck up at various points. 'This is a dangerous spot.' It was kindly
meant no doubt, but on the whole no part of the Salient afforded much
of a rest-cure, and it was practically all under direct observation
of the enemy. We existed simply through his