With feet that stumble and teeth that clench
Over the valley of hell and hate.
Over the knees in water and mud,
Up to the waist if you miss the track,
You shall know your path by the trail of blood,
And silent figures shall guide you back.

Down in the valley the waters flow,
You may jump the brook with an easy stride,
They cross it in silence, they who know
What happened that day upon either side.
In the voice of the brook are their comrades' tones,
In the summer's breeze they shall feel their breath,
For under the grass we have laid their bones,
Here in the Vale of the Shadow of Death.[A]

[Footnote A: Copied by permission from "Dawn and Other Poems" by
Lieut.-Colonel E. Godfrey Hoare, D.S.O. Publishers: Erskine Macdonald,
Limited.]

The Battalion was relieved on the night of the second-third, and the men
drifted down in small parties through the mud to Potijze. Some hours were
spent here, during which several casualties took place, as the enemy
subjected the area to the fire of 8-inch shells. Towards evening the men
were told to rendezvous at Vlamertinghe. There was no need to pay much
attention to the means of getting there. That could be left to the men
themselves. Everyone was ready to give them a lift, for their muddy
appearance showed that they had just been in the fight, and consequently
practically all arrived in motor lorries. At Vlamertinghe, rum was issued
and later all embussed for the Watou area, which they reached shortly