The next trip to the front line was to the Spoil Bank section itself, whence rumour had it that the attack would some day be launched, and amateur tacticians were thus able to study the scheme on the spot. A preliminary reconnaissance generally ended in the observer hoping he would be away on leave or on a course when the attack should eventually take place.

An unsuccessful attempt at a raid by the enemy at 4.30 a.m. on the 25th April was the only incident of note in a somewhat uninteresting stay in the front line, where nearly every trench appeared to be open to direct observation from the Bosche. The mystery about the Spoil Bank sector, with its trenches so open and devoid of shelter, was that in five days there were only eight casualties, all of which occurred during the enemy’s attempted raid. The bombardment during the raid was such as to make every man look forward with more than usual keenness to the relief on the following night by the 6th Battalion, when the Civil Service Rifles moved to Dominion Camp, adjoining Devonshire Camp.

CHAPTER XIV
THE MORINGHEM TREK

A long stay of eleven days in Dominion Lines ended with a return to the Support positions around Swan Château on the 8th of May, but only three days were spent here (during which time there were thirteen casualties, an unusually high number for the comparative safety of support positions) before the Battalion was relieved by the Poplar and Stepneys, and moved back to the village of Dickebusch for two days, before starting on the “Moringhem Trek,” the first affair of its kind since the memorable trek to the Somme.

The trek began on the 13th of May with a march to the village of Watou, and the old soldier now knew that he would soon be taking part in an attack. “They’re not taking us all this way for exercise, or simply for our amusement” he told the latest joined recruit as they marched along, “but it’s worth it to get away from the Salient for a few days and to see the civvies once more without any fear of shelling. And remember, when we go over the odds are generally about four to one on a blighty, so don’t worry.”

The billets were good in Watou, but they were even better in the village of Sercus, where the Battalion, after marching through Hazebrouck, spent the second night. General regret was felt that only one night was spent in this village, and on the third day, after passing through Arques and St. Omer, the training area was reached and the Companies were billeted in the village of Moringhem and the neighbouring villages. On the whole the billets were poor and uncomfortable, besides being scattered. “A” and Headquarters Company were in Moringhem itself, “B” and “C” were about a mile and a half away in Petit Difques, and “D” were in the little hamlet of Cuslinghem.

It was announced that about three weeks would be spent in this district, and a somewhat ambitious programme of sports and recreation was drawn up. The training was often finished soon after mid-day. An inter-platoon football competition was started, and preliminary heats for the Battalion Sports Meeting, to be held on the 20th of May, were run off during the early days of the “holiday.”

The Brigadier having expressed a wish that officers and men should be given facilities to visit St. Omer, parties were made up each day for that purpose. The men generally went in G.S. wagons and limbers, and the officers usually returned a voiture.

A novelty in Regimental Sports was introduced on the 19th of May at what was reported in the Financial Times as the Moringhem May Meeting, when the only event was a horse race for officers’ chargers.

The race took place after church parade, and was over a five furlong course behind the village church. Unfortunately, one or two of the starters were not quite sure where the course was, and consequently several horses had to wait at “the tapes” while Battalion orderlies scoured the village for missing runners and jockeys. More unfortunate still was the experience of the “bookie” who, at great trouble, had secured costumes for himself and his clerk, but who spent the morning wandering about the neighbouring hills, vainly searching for the course, and cursing his clerk for a fool.