Yet a month before, the same area had surged with life and was the scene of whole armies at grips. But now the battle ground had moved further East, where the scenes of strife were even then being enacted as before. The outskirts of Peronne proved to be our destination and having delivered my 4th Division draft to the proper authorities, I set out per foot and guided by a private of the 20th Battalion, to rejoin my own battalion at the ruined village of Frise, by the banks of the Somme Canal at which place I arrived at 3 pm on September 23rd. I arrived just as the Battalion officers were taking some refreshment before leaving on a tour of inspection and my arrival was hailed by them in a loud but good natured fashion.

Frise was some 20 kilometres from the present front line and not more than six kilometres from Mont St. Quentin. It contained only one house which had not been destroyed and this was alleged to be mined. However, some of us chanced the mine and slept in the upper rooms for the remainder of our stay at the village, suffering a good deal of banter which was designed to “put the wind up us.” The battalion played two games of football and one game, of cricket against our 5th Field Ambulance all of which were won by the 20th. The battalion had been at Frise for over ten day and did a fair amount of training of an open warfare nature, in anticipation of coming events.