200 TRENCH GARDENS 



of the new Army, and when in the dusk of evening 

 small bands of khaki-clad men, headed by a young 

 officer, alight from the evening train and steal 

 towards some hiding-place, we hardly take note of 

 them. Laden with rolls of clothing or blankets, 

 swinging hurricane lanterns in their hands, they 

 march off briskly into the darkness . Again the old 

 haunts of ancient man are guarded and sentries 

 keep watch along the same worn tracks, but this 

 time the enemy is looked for in the sky and not 

 upon the earth. There is less fear but far more 

 bitter hatred in the hearts of those who now stand 

 waiting, hidden within the walls of chalk-pits or 

 where dark pines form an impenetrable hiding-place, 

 whence a great expanse of landscape and sky can 

 be scanned. 



Sometimes, for the sake of military experience, 

 teaching that is useful alike to the civilian and soldier, 

 the village street is blocked by a large farm wagon 

 and " Halt 1 " re-echoes across the hill as some 

 timid inhabitant is suddenly brought to a stand- 

 still and reluctantly submits himself to being cross- 

 questioned. 



It was easier perhaps in the winter months to 

 realise how close war lies to us — Nature was sleeping 

 then, there was nothing to take attention away 

 from all the new impressions, the sound of many 

 feet marching along the road, the voices singing 

 " It's a long way," the horses galloping by, the 

 click of spurs, all the things that will be for ever 

 interwoven with our recollection of this year and 

 of those who were fighting heavy rains and sweeping 

 winds in the trenches in France. Now, however, 



