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Concert parties became more numerous, and, in addition to the "Whizzbangs," who worked very hard, the Brigade had a show of their own, known as the "138's." While at Bousies we marched one Sunday to Landrecies, where H.M. the King paid a visit. It was an informal affair, no guard of honour and no lining the road, and none of us will ever forget the scene.

Slowly dragging himself to it, he saw the body of the sentry. One look was enough to know that he was dead. The soldier's head was missing. The sentry had had his wish gratified. He had "gone home." He was safe at last from the "whizzbangs" and the Allemand. Like a flash it came to Lloyd that he was free. Free to go "over the top" with his Company.

I wasn't around there at the time, but the boys at the dressing station told me that them two worked back and forward getting out the wounded, I think they had about thirty injured up at that time, as if it was a kind of er summer shower that was falling, let alone H. E.'s and whizzbangs, and then after they got the last man out, the M. O. went in with some stretcher bearers, just lookin' around before he left, and a shell came and got 'em all, and they say it was about the last shell that was throwed.

While waiting there, the voice of the sentry, singing in a low tone, came to him. He was singing the chorus of the popular trench ditty: "I want to go home, I want to go home. I don't want to go to the trenches no more. Where the 'whizzbangs' and 'sausages' roar galore. Take me over the sea, where the Allemand can't get at me. Oh my, I don't want to die! I want to go home."

"Say, there's a machine gun playing that street awful," said the M. O.'s sergeant, "to say nothing of whizzbangs." "Oh, that's all right," said Barry. "I'll make a dash for it." But at Headquarters he was no more successful. He went out into the garden in the rear of the R. A. P., and returned with two small twigs. The M. O. bound them together in the form of a cross.