The explanation of it all came later and was simple enough.  The French, without letting us know, had attacked the Germans on our right, and the Germans to keep us engaged had made a feint attack upon us.  So we went back to dinner.

In modern war the infantryman hasn’t much of a chance.  Strategy nowadays consists in arranging for the mutual slaughter of infantry by the opposing guns, each general trusting that his guns will do the greater slaughter.  And half gunnery is luck.  The day before yesterday we had a little afternoon shoot at where we thought the German trenches might be.  The Germans unaccountably retreated, and yesterday when we advanced we found the trenches crammed full of dead.  By a combination of intelligent anticipation and good luck we had hit them exactly——­

From these letters you will be able to gather what mood we were in and something of what the brigade despatch rider was doing.  After the first day the Germans ceased shrapnelling the fields round the farm and left us nearly in peace.  There I met Major Ballard, commanding the 15th Artillery Brigade, one of the finest officers of my acquaintance, and Captain Frost, the sole remaining officer of the Cheshires.  He was charming to me; I was particularly grateful for the loan of a razor, for my own had disappeared and there were no despatch riders handy from whom I could borrow.

Talking of the Cheshires reminds me of a story illustrating the troubles of a brigadier.  The general was dining calmly one night after having arranged an attack.  All orders had been sent out.  Everything was complete and ready.  Suddenly there was a knock at the door and in walked Captain M——­, who reported his arrival with 200 reinforcements for the Cheshires, a pleasant but irritating addition.  The situation was further complicated by the general’s discovery that M——­ was senior to the officer then in command of the Cheshires.  Poor M——­ was not left long in command.  A fortnight later the Germans broke through and over the Cheshires, and M——­ died where a commanding officer should.

From 1910 Farm I had one good ride to the battalions, through Festubert and along to the Cuinchy bridge.  For me it was interesting because it was one of the few times I had ridden just behind our trenches, which at the moment were just north of the road and were occupied by the Bedfords.

In a day or two we returned to Festubert, and Cadell gave me a shake-down on a mattress in his billet—­gloriously comfortable.  The room was a little draughty because the fuse of a shrapnel had gone right through the door and the fireplace opposite.  Except for a peppering on the walls and some broken glass the house was not damaged; we almost laughed at the father and mother and daughter who, returning while we were there, wept because their home had been touched.

Orders came to attack.  A beautiful plan was drawn up by which the battalions of the brigade were to finish their victorious career in the square of La Bassee.