Next day a sentry told me that he had heard a hundred bombs burst, and, as far as he knew, not one of them had done any damage, all having fallen among the ruined houses and gardens of the town.
I had been asked to look up the grave of a young officer of a Scottish battalion, who had been killed in the July advance.

I rode over to Mametz and saw all that historic fighting ground.

The village was a heap of ruins, but from out of a cellar came a smartly-dressed lieutenant, who told me that he had the great privilege and honour of being the Town Major of Mametz.

We laughed as we surveyed his very smelly and unattractive little kingdom.

I found the grave, and near it were several crosses over the last resting places of some of our Canadian Dragoons, who had been in the great advance.