“Much to our surprise we did not stop there, but went right through and came within view of the Boches.  Immediately we were under the special care of their artillery, and within a short space of time lost half of our numbers.  We had to dig ourselves in with entrenching tools, but after having got fairly decent cover, had to move on again over to the left.  We got right forward into the front line, and found it held by a mere handful of the Canadians, who received us with enthusiasm and were so heartened by our reinforcements that they were more determined than ever to hang on to the last.

“Meanwhile between the two lines our wounded lay unattended, those who were able made their way, crawling and rolling through the barbed wire, into our lines.  At dusk half of the Canadians occupying the trench made one rush after another to bring in their wounded and helpless comrades.  It was a wonderful sight.  Again and again these fellows went out, each time carrying back a wounded man.  I was the extreme end man of our regiment, and so was right next to the Canadians themselves.  Their officer, who was hit some time during the evening, came back with his arm in a sling, refusing to go down the line to the dressing station, as he preferred to stay with the remnants of his company.  He was a most encouraging chap, and it was here that I noticed the difference between the companionship of these officers and men and those of our own army.  The ordinary private would pull out his small packet of Woodbines and offer one to his officer, who would accept it with the same feeling of gratefulness as he would a cigar from a brother officer.

“We stayed with these Canadians for two days.  For some reason or other the transport had failed to bring up our rations, but we did not suffer for lack of food, for whatever the Canadians had, we had too.  They shared with us all their rations and kept us for those two days.

“At the end of that time, during which we had witnessed several attacks on the right, we were relieved from those trenches and marched back to the farm on the other side of the Canal.  But it was not for a rest; for every night we had to go up digging and consolidating the trenches regained and digging communication trenches.

“It was on one of these digging fatigues that my chum was killed.  He and I had been given a small sector to dig, and it was really a fairly quiet night, as far as firing was concerned.  We had dug down a depth of about three feet and had secured ourselves against rifle fire and were putting the final touches to our work, which we had rightly viewed with pride and satisfaction, when the order came—­’D Company file out towards the left.’  We were terribly disappointed for we had worked all that evening on digging ourselves in here and we knew that it meant a fresh start elsewhere.  We were just clambering out when there rang out