I

This, according to our latest subaltern from home, is the title of a
_revue_ which is running in Town; but that is a mere coincidence. The
entertainment to which I am now referring took place in Flanders, and
the leading parts were assigned to distinguished members of "K (1)."

The scene was the Château de Grandbois, or some other kind of Bois;
possibly Vert. Not that we called it that: we invariably referred to
it afterwards as Hush Hall, for reasons which will be set forth in due
course.

One morning, while sojourning in what Olympus humorously calls a
rest-camp,--a collection of antiquated wigwams half submerged in a
mud-flat,--we received the intelligence that we were to extricate
ourselves forthwith, and take over a fresh sector of trenches. The news
was doubly unwelcome, because, in the first place, it is always
unpleasant to face the prospect of trenches of any kind; and secondly,
to take over strange trenches in the dead of a winter night is an
experience which borders upon nightmare--the
hot-lobster-and-toasted-cheese variety.

The opening stages of this enterprise are almost ritualistic in their
formality. First of all, the Brigade Staff which is coming in visits
the Headquarters of the Brigade which is going out--usually a château
or farm somewhere in rear of the trenches--and makes the preliminary
arrangements. After that the Commanding Officers and Company
Commanders of the incoming battalions visit their own particular