When we got to the line, Fritz was retaliating on the Ridge and a heavy bombardment was in progress; our guns were vigorously answering, and over we ran to the gun pit, getting into the game with both feet.  After an hour’s hard drubbing, I took occasion to step over and see a man whose friendship I had never ceased to curry—­the cook, and I was just swallowing the first mouthful of the fruits of my friendship when my joy was rudely interrupted by an orderly.—­“The Major wants to see you, Grant.”  Over I went, wondering what was up, and ransacking my noodle for some breach of discipline of which I might have been guilty.

“Did you want to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Grant,” smiled the Major; two officers were standing by and they beamed on me in a fashion that made me think my future mother-in-law had gone on a long journey.  “Listen carefully, Grant,” said the Major, as he started to read something.  I paid strict attention and I could scarcely believe my ears as the true import of the communication commenced to dawn upon me;—­the G.O.C. had granted me a furlough and I was instructed to return to Canada immediately on a three-months’ leave of absence.  I was walking on air for a few minutes, and it was quite some little time before I could make myself really believe I wasn’t dreaming.

I lost no time in bidding my pals good-bye, and when I had convinced them that it was an actual fact, the gun Sergeant said, “Fellows, Grant’s going; we’ll give him the best we’ve got; ten rounds of gun fire.  Ready!  Fire!” and ten ear-drum splitters clove the air.  I had no cotton in my ears and the effects of that farewell stayed with me several minutes after I left.  I then went to say good-bye to the man whose friendship I had always nursed, my good friend the cook.  He urged me to wait while he fixed me up the feed of my life, as he expressed it, and you can understand the state of my feelings when I tell you that I refused his bounty.  I never did such a thing in my life!

I turned to go and found myself face to face with the Major.  “What the hell are you hanging around here for?  Didn’t I tell you to beat it to the wagon lines before you got hit?  Do you think your horseshoe luck is going to stay with you forever?  While you have got your furlough in your hand, beat it!”

I hastened my steps.  On the way I passed the burial party who were laying to their last rest the men who had fallen the night before, and as I glanced at the faces of the boys who would never again see their beloved Canadian homes, tears, for the first time in many long months, welled up into my eyes.

I doubled from there to a battery in the rear to say farewell to my cousin Hughie, and while going from pit to pit in his battery, looking for him, the guns were speaking as fast as they could, and retaliation from Germany was blasting its way through the air.  Right at this moment the Major’s warning was most beautifully exemplified; a splinter struck me in the cheek, flooring me and knocking out two teeth in the upper left jaw.  When I recovered my balance, the diligence I exercised in getting away from the scene of activity would have satisfied even the Major; besides, I was doubly anxious that he should not know of my mishap, as he would be bound to twit me unmercifully.