It had been raining and gray clouds still hung over the trenches where crouched the Canadian infantrymen, waiting eagerly for the arrival of the moment which would summon them to attack.

At Mangaldan a cavalry outfit replaced our mounted infantrymen, and while the members of our new escort were resting under the shade of a tree in the cemetery, I heard them voicing joyful anticipations of the easy time they were to have travelling with tenderfeet.

In this parade I saw a French infantryman aided along by a captured Zouave on one side and on the other by a German sentry who swung his loaded carbine in his free hand.