Near by is the building occupied by the "signals" branch, which with its nerve system of telegraphs, telephones, and motor-cycle despatch riders, is the medium of communication with every part of the field, and also with the base of supplies and the War Office in London. "Signals" carries its wires to within rifle shot of the trenches, and every division of the Army has its own field telephones from battalions headquarters to the firing line.
Close at hand is the office of the intelligence branch, which collects and communicates information about the enemy from every source it can tap. It receives and compares reports of statements made by prisoners, and interrogates some prisoners itself. It goes through documents, letters, diaries, official papers—captured in the field—and extracts points from these. It collects news from its own agents—it is only your enemy who calls them spies—about events that are happening, or are likely to happen, behind the screen of the enemy's lines.
At General Headquarters you find the department of the Adjutant-General, who is responsible for the whole of the arrangements—keeping the army in the field supplied with men and munitions of war, for the transfer of all prisoners to the base, for the trial of offences against discipline, and for the spiritual welfare of the troops.
From a neighbouring office the Quartermaster-General controls the movements of food and fodder for men and horses, and all other stores, other than actual munitions of war.
Still another branch houses the Director-General of Medical Service, who supervises the treatment of the wounded from the field aid post to the field clearing station, from there to the hospital train, and thence to the base hospital in France or Great Britain.
One of the most fascinating spots at General Headquarters is the map department. Thousands of maps of various kinds and sizes have been produced here since the war began. They vary from large maps, to be hung on walls or spread on great tables, down to small slips—with a few lines of German trenches accurately outlined—and most handy for the use of battery and battalion commanders. Remarkable photographs are also printed here—panoramic views and photographs of German positions, taken at very close quarters, often under fire. There are officers who specialise in this perilous and wonderful business.
As one goes forward from General Headquarters towards the edge of the fan, one comes in contact with more and more men, and realises quickly that, in spite of the hardships of trench warfare, our troops are superbly fit and ready for any task which the fortunes of war may impose on them. Their physical condition remains so robust as to be astonishing.
For instance, the evening that I reached the billeting area, I saw several battalions of the Expeditionary Force marching from their billets towards the trenches—they had been at the front for months, yet they stepped as freshly as though they were just from home or route-marching in English lanes. Their faces shone with health; their eyes were as bright as those of a troop of schoolboys. They were, in fact, tramping down a long, straight, poplar-lined Flemish highway, with a misty vista of flat ploughed land on either side. They whistled as they marched.
The complete efficiency of the men is largely due to the excellence of their food. The Army is, in fact, healthier than any other army that has ever faced war. Typhoid is almost unknown. The amazing record of health owes much to the sanitary precautions which are taken. One of the most remarkable of these is the system of hot baths and the sterilising of clothing.
Bathing establishments have been put up in various parts of the field, and the largest of them is in a building which, before the war, was a jute factory. Every hour of the day, successive companies of men have hot baths here. They strip to the skin, and while they wallow in huge vats of hot water, their clothing is treated with 200 degrees of heat, which destroys all vermin.