The Commanding Officer at once hurried back to the Battalion and verbally issued relief orders while the Companies were falling in.  In a little more than half an hour all were ready to move, and Companies marched independently to Preselles, where, under cover of the hill side, the Battalion assembled soon after midnight.  There were no guides, so, after waiting some time in vain, the C.O. once more went to Brigade Headquarters and asked for instructions.  He was given a map reference—­supposed to be that of the Battalion Headquarters of the West Yorks., and once more the Battalion moved off.  In single file, with no intervals between platoons for fear of losing touch, and a very uncertain knowledge of the position of the enemy, we marched slowly across country towards where we hoped to find Battalion Headquarters.  Reaching the famous sunken road of the battle of the 3rd, we halted while a search was made; we had come to the place referred to on the map, there was nothing there.  Fortunately, just as we were wondering what on earth to do, two W. Yorks. guides appeared, led us to their Battalion Headquarters, and soon afterwards the Companies disappeared Eastwards.

Battalion Headquarters was in a small cellar under an isolated house just outside Sequehart on the Preselles Road.  It was a most extraordinary relief in many ways, and perhaps the most extraordinary part was the scene in that Headquarters.  There were four of us with the M.O., five West Yorks., a French Interpreter, a Padre, and an indescribable heap of runners and signallers, to say nothing of batmen, in a cellar which might have held four people comfortably.  On one of the beds in the corner lay an officer.  Noticing that he was not wearing W. Yorks badges, we asked who he was.  They did not know, he had been there since they came in and had never moved; “perhaps he was gassed or dead,” they remarked casually.  This was typical of how we all felt, much too tired to worry over other people’s troubles.  As it happened he was not dead, and, though to this day we have never discovered who he was, he eventually disappeared—­going out to look for his own Regiment.  For some hours we sat in the most terrible atmosphere waiting for the relief to be finished, and at last, just as dawn was breaking, as three Companies had reported that they were in position, we agreed to take over the line, and the W. Yorks. marched out—­to take part in some other battle further North.  As soon as they had gone, the C.O., with a map in one hand and a slice of bread and jam in the other, went up to look at our front line and see whether the Boche had really left Mericourt.