battery before the British came--with bunks and a table and stove. The
privates who discovered it made a most comfortable home until its fame
got abroad, and the regimental headquarters were moved in there.
Dug-outs became all the fashion for the moment--everyone set about
searching for them. But the supply in any works on the Allied side is,
unfortunately, limited--and after half a day's enthusiasm the battalion
fell back resignedly on its canvas home.

When it came back some time later to these familiar dwellings,
heavy-eyed and heavy-footed, there was no insincerity in the relief with
which it regarded them. They were a resting-place then. Another
battalion had kept them decently clean, and handed them over drained and
dry; for which thoughtfulness, not always met with, they were more
grateful than those tired men could have explained.

For they had been up into the line, and the places behind the line, and
out again.




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WINTER OF 1916

_France, December 20th._


A friend has shown me a letter from Melbourne. Its writer had asked a
man--an educated man--if he would give a subscription for the Australian