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Leave comes round in turn throughout the officers of the Battalion; it will be a long time before my turn comes: perhaps when the war is over! Horace Beesley of D Company is very nice with me; he is an awfully decent sort. Lieutenant Joye, who is in command of Headquarters Company, is an amusing fellow; he is large and fat, with yellow hair and a smiling face.
Horace Beesley commanded his platoon with such courage and success right out on our far-flung battle line in the vicinity of Wurst Farm and Aviatik Farm until he was badly wounded; and to him also was the Military Cross awarded.
He looked right through Matthew until I introduced them, then he shifted the hen and shook hands with Polly's "Pleased to make your acquaintance" greeting. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Beesley," said Matthew, exerting more charm of manner than I had ever seen him use before. "My, but that is a gorgeous bird you have!" "She's a right good hen, but she's a mongrel.
"No; I happened to be in the Watch House with the chief boatman checking the store-sheets, when Beesley, whose watch it is, came in and reported. I see what you're driving at. Your own boat is lying under the Keg of Butter, as everybody knows, and you suggest that I am duffer enough to mistake her in the darkness for a boat at least two-foot longer." Mr. Rogers laughed good-naturedly.
Blamey and I then supervised a working party in Durham Trench. "July 5th. "All was moderately quiet until 1.50 a.m. Then we heard rifle shots, and more rifle shots, ringing out in no man's land; and at 2 a regular set-to began. The Cheshires on our immediate left were making a raid with an artillery barrage. It was quite a set-to. Beesley got back in time.
I turned Joe Tillett out in perfect proportion as well as in strong jeans," I answered, without the least offense at finding my first efforts as a tailor thus becoming the subject of kindly village gossip. "Well, I hope this junket will turn out as Mary Beesley expects, with enjoyment for everybody. However, I'm going to risk my back with Mr.
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