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spare time for personal grief when the Battalion was
getting ready to move back to Divisional Rest. To
have thought about Cromlech would have beencalam-
itous. "Rotten business about poor old 'Longneck3/'
was the only comment that Durley, Dottrell and the
others allowed themselves. And after all he wasn't
the only one who'd gone west lately. It was queer
how the men seemed to take their victimization for
granted. In and out; in and out; singing and whist-
ling, the column swayed in front of me, much the
same length as usual, for we'd had less than a hundred
casualties up at Bazentin, But it was a case of every
man for himself, and the corporate effect was opti-
mistic and untroubled. A London editor driving along
the road in a Staff car would have remarked that the
spirit of the troops was amazing. And so it was. But
somehow the newspaper men always kept the horrify-
ing realities of the War out of their articles, for it was
unpatriotic to be bitter, and the dead were assumed
to be gloriously happy. However, it was no use worry-
ing about all that; I was part of the Battalion, and
now I'd got to see about getting the men settled into

Some Australians had been in the billets at La
Chaussee, and (if they will pardon me for saying so)
had left them in a very bad state. Sanitation had
been neglected, and the inhabitants were complaining
furiously that their furniture had been used for fire-
wood. Did the Australians leave anything else behind
them, I wonder? For some of them had been in
Gallipoli, and it is possible that dysentry germs were
part of the legacy they left us.

The fact remains that I awoke on Monday morning
feeling far from well and, after a mechanical effort to
go on parade in a glare of sunlight, took refuge in the