The battalion moved off and it was soon apparent that we weren’t going back to Hersin. We turned left through Aix Noulette and climbed up through Bouvigny where we had our first, welcome, halt. We were all more or less asleep, chilled through and through with the rain and biting wind, and sore with four days’ filth of the trenches. Apart from that none of us had had a decent meal since we left Hersin. We were half an hour in Bouvigny, during which time most of the men went to sleep by the roadside and the battalion took some getting on the move again.
We had a great ridge to climb and cross and before long the battalion looked for all the world like Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow. Several men collapsed in the road; others managed to get to the banks on either side and lay there absolutely beaten. The officers couldn’t do anything and they realised that it wasn’t a time for the application of discipline: the men just couldn’t go on. The CO kept taking turns with packs and now and then would relieve a man of his rifle. I saw Captain Tetley at one time carrying two packs and four rifles. Very few finished the march to Fresnicourt, which was about ten miles from Aix Noulette. Some men were crying out of sheer misery and helplessness. Not even the hardiest spirit in the battalion could raise a song or a whistle. It was a terrible march and one of the roughest times I had experienced up to then. However, I stuck it and arrived at our destination with the few. We were put in some Army huts belonging to the French troops on arrival, and the cooks were all ready for us with hot tea and rum and a good hot stew after that.
Hot shower baths had been rigged up for us and I took advantage of them, then turned in and after two hours’ sleep felt like a new man. The rest of the battalion were all day getting up here and as soon as they arrived they went to sleep, in all their filth.