Major R., who is a great admirer of things English, suddenly gave the
command to his men, and out of compliment to us "It's a long way to
Tipararee" rang out. The pronunciation of the words was most odd and we
listened in wonder; the Major's chest however positively swelled with
pride, for he had taught them himself! We assured him, tactfully, the
result was most successful.

We returned to the Headquarters and sorted out stores for the trenches.
The Major at that moment received a telephone message to say a farm in
the Nieuport direction was being attacked. We looked up from our work
and saw the shells bursting like fireworks, the noise of course was
deafening. We soon got accustomed to it and besides had too much to do
to bother. When all was ready, we were given our instructions--we were
to keep together till we had passed through the village when the doctor
would be there to meet us and, with a guide, conduct us to the trenches;
we were all to proceed twenty paces one after the other, no word was to
be spoken, and if a Verey light showed up we were to drop down flat. I
hoped fervently it might not be in a foot of mud!

Off we set, and I must say my heart was pounding pretty hard. It was
rather nervy work once we were beyond the town, straining our eyes
through the darkness to follow the figure ahead. Occasionally a sentry
popped up from apparently nowhere. A whispered word and then on we went
again. I really can't say how far we walked like this; it seemed
positively miles. Suddenly a light flared in the sky, illuminating the
surrounding country in an eerie glare. It didn't take me many minutes,
needless to say, to drop flat! Luckily it was _pavé_, but I would have
welcomed mud rather than be left standing silhouetted within sight of