the Belgian headquarters. It was in a better state than the others, and
a small flag indicated we had arrived at our destination.




CHAPTER IV

BEHIND THE TRENCHES


We got out and leaped the mud from the _pavé_ to the doorstep, and an
orderly came forward and conducted us to a sitting room at the rear
where Major R. welcomed us, and immediately ordered coffee. We were
greatly impressed by the calm way in which he looked at things. He
pointed with pride to a gaily coloured print from the one and only "Vie"
(what would the dug-outs at the front have done without "La Vie" and
Kirchner?), which covered a newly made shell hole in the wall. He also
showed us places where shrapnel was embedded; and from the window we saw
a huge hole in the back garden made by a "Black Maria." Beside it was a
grave headed by a little rough wooden cross and surmounted by one of
those gay tasselled caps we had seen early that morning, though it
seemed more like last week, so much had happened since then.

As it was only possible to go into the trenches at dusk we still had
some time to spare, and after drinking everybody's health in some
excellent benedictine, Major R. suggested we should make a tour of
inspection of the village. "The bombardment is over for the day," he
added, "so you need have no fear." I went out wondering at his certainty
that the Boche would _not_ bombard again that afternoon. It transpired