Having rested a day at Ware, we marched to Bishops Stortford, where we cannot say we were billeted neither can we use again the word rest, for the town was over-crowded, and queues were formed up to billets; queues composed of all arms of the service, and infantry did not take the front place.  Let us say we were “stationed” there one week.  The week was enlivened by strange rumour of German air attacks, and large patrols were kept on the watch at night.

On the 26th of November, the time of our life began when the regiment marched into billets at Sawbridgeworth.  The town was built for one infantry regiment and no more.  The inhabitants were delightful, and we have heard, indirectly, more than once that they were pleased with us.  We soon learnt to love the town and all it contained, and we dare not say that our love has grown cold even now.  The wedding bells have already rung for the regiment once at Sawbridgeworth, when Lieut.  R.C.L.  Mould married Miss Barrett, and we do not know that they may not ring again for a similar reason.  In Sawbridgeworth, our vigorous adjutant, Captain W.T.  Bromfield, was at his best.  Everyone was seized and pulled up to the last notch of efficiency, pay books were ready in time, company returns were faultless, deficiency lists complete, saluting was severer than ever, and echos of heel clicks rattled from the windows in the street.  Best of all were the drums.  Daily at Retreat, Drum Sergt.  Skinner would salute the orderly officer, the orderly officer would salute the senior officer, then all the officers would salute all the ladies, the crowd would move slowly away, and wheel traffic was permitted once more in the High Street.

The ordinary routine of military life was broken into at times by sudden and violent efforts dictated by lightning ideas of the Divisional or Brigade Staff, or by the latest news from the front.  There was a time, for example, when we could think of one thing only,—­the recessed trench.  That gave place to the half company trench, a complete system, embracing fire trenches, supports, inspection trenches, with cook houses, wash houses, and all that a well regulated house could require; and so important was it, and its dimensions so precise, that an annotated copy was printed on handkerchiefs.

Then came a sudden desire to cross streams, however swollen, and a party rode off to Bishops Stortford to learn the very latest plans.  We had just received a set of beautiful mules, well trained for hard work in the transport.  As horses were scarce, and the party large, our resourceful adjutant ordered mules.  Several mules returned at once, though many went with their riders to the model bridge, and in their intelligent anxiety to get a really close view, went into the water with them.

On another day we did a great march through Harlow, and saluted Sir Evelyn Wood, V.C., who stood at his gate to see us pass.