[Illustration: "DOOMSDAY BOOK": A FRENCH LESSON IN A CATTLE TRUCK.]

Our corporal (behold him with an open book of Family Bible dimensions)
often busied himself with expounding his views on the French language,
in which he was labouring to become proficient. His linguistic ambitions
did not end at self-proficiency, for he was solicitous to instruct his
fellows, and we had quite a number of French lessons from him, although
it must be admitted that they suffered many interruptions in good old
plain English from the Tommies, provoked by the jolting of the train.
They nicknamed this huge French dictionary the "Doomsday Book," because
it was their doom to have its contents thrown at them every day.


THE LAST STAGE.

The weather set in very cold and snowy, and as the cracks in the bottom
of the truck measured three inches in width, it can be guessed what a
draught there was. But in spite of everything and the general discomfort
of things, jam and biscuits were "lowered" in plenty. I amused the boys
by making sketches on biscuits and throwing them out of the window at
the various stations we passed through to the crowds of French
civilians, soldiers, and Red Cross nurses. Perhaps some of my comrades
will find some of these biscuit souvenirs at their homes--if they ever
get there--for not a few were kept to the end of the journey and posted
to friends in England.

We passed over several bridges which the Germans had destroyed, but
which had been made temporarily good again by the French engineers. Over
these our train had to travel gingerly. As we neared the fighting zone
the booming of the guns could be heard, and a little further on things