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[Page 48]
1/5/17
Favreuil
We all walked down to the cemetery and there were long pits dug some of them partially banked up. At the end of the freshest heaped up earth was a blanket in which was laced up poor Greig. The padre read the funeral service while we stood round and "Muldoon" Cumming sounded the "last post" as only he can sound it. Everyone turned away with a swelling heart for Greig was brave honest and manly and we old heads feel it when one of us is taken far more than we can say. On returning to Camp, Stewart the CO & self went deep into plans and maps for an hour working out details for more slaughter. The evening was a languid summery moonlit one with the smell of thirsty earth and trodden grass in the air. From the front the gun flashes leapt up luridly and in the tents everyone made merry until lights out. Some of the subs. A little afterwards – different to our old sedate crowd. A startling heavy round of salvoes about midnight