The Trench-Raiders

[THE author of this graphic diary is a Canadian officer who has distinguished himself in the service. The raids he describes with such terrible directness took place by way of preparation for the general assault of the German lines. They were planned, as everybody knows, to harass the defenders and do all possible damage without intention of bringing on a general engagement or making permanent acquisition of territory. What follows, though written without remotest thought of publication, is printed textually from the manuscript excepting only that all names have been changed. — THE EDITORS.]

I AM writing this up on February 3, and, now that it is all over, I can tell you about it. The week I have spent at the Grenade School was really training bombers and scouts for a special raid that we were going to make on the German trenches. I of course could not mention anything about it before. We had a very busy week, and I had an exact plan of their trenches laid out life-size on the ground with tape, and on this we practiced day and night, also going down and practicing in some real trenches of the support lines. I had nine scouts and twenty-three bombers, Captain Archer, the Bomb Officer, and myself. I was in command, made all the reconnaissances, and Archer trained the bombers. I gave them lectures on what to expect and what to look for, and we even learned how to say in German, ‘Hands up!’ ‘Come out of there! ’ ‘Be quick!’ ‘Keep quiet!’ etc. We spent a lot of time choosing weapons and deciding on dress and equipment and working out the artillery, machinegun, and rifle grenade battery support required.

Sunday, January 30, 1916
We were now all ready. The men had supper early and moved off to a strong point half a mile from our front line. There they had their faces blacked, so as not to show up when the flares (star shells) were up, and also for means of identification. I left later and wrote some letters, as I thought there was a sporting chance that I would figure in the casualty lists in the morning, but was n’t worrying much, as I figured our plan was all right and I had the finest men in the world with me to carry it out. The weather was right. A pitchblack night, just above freezing, and the moon not due to rise till after 4 A.M. We were to try to attack at 1 A.M. At 10 P.M., two of my scouts went out to cut the German barbed wire. This was a heroic task, as the stuff is awfully thick and fifteen yards across. They expected to be through at 12.30 A.M. I might say that the—Battalion was putting on a similar show about a thousand yards south, and the great thing was to have them come off at the same moment.

Monday, January 31, 1916
At twelve midnight, we moved up to the front line in our correct order and went right out through a gap in the parapet to a hedge corner 150 yards out in No Man’s Land. The trenches are about 250 yards apart here. Here we lay down to wait for word from Bates. I had a signaller installed out there with a buzzer telephone, and we were connected up at once with everybody concerned right back to the brigadier. At 12.30 A.M. I got anxious about Bates and sent a scout to find out what was the matter. He came back about 1 A.M and said there had been a lot more new wire put out during the fog that day, but the scouts were still cutting. We had laid a white tape on the ground all the way from our trenches to the German wire and through the wire too, and had also paid out a long rope to pull back any heavy object. We also had a little bridge ready to put across a ditch, if one was found. We were getting pretty cold lying on the wet ground, and not able to move. About this time we got a message over the wire asking if Captain Shaw wanted any rum, and I wired back, ‘No Dutch courage needed, thanks.’ About 1.50 A.M. Scout Benton came in and reported that the wire was cut. I wired this in, and six minutes later the — Battalion got theirs cut, and we were both told to attack at 2.30 A.M. We were about frozen stiff by this time, besides being wet, but my sympathy went out to those boys in the wire. There they were under the nose of the sentry, working quietly on, not only cutting wire but having to carry it away. Just then Bates came back himself, and told us the Germans were nervous, and there seemed to be a lot of them in the trenches, and we would have to keep very quiet.
Well, we started, and every time a flare went up we flattened ourselves to the ground and prayed to high Heaven that no one would see us. However, we made the trip so quietly that Hartley, who was expecting us, never saw or heard us until Archer and I closed up on him. A great tree had been knocked down by a shell a few days before and lay breast-high across our path in the wire. Over this we had to climb, first one leg and then the other, and every once in a while a sentry would blaze away into the night over our heads. This was the worst part of the whole affair, because any sentry on the alert would have seen us. I thought the crackling of the twigs would have given us away, everything was so still; and I expected every instant to hear a machine gun close by open on us — but these Huns are a sleepy bunch. When ten men had got over the stump and twenty-four more were strung out forty yards behind, the — Battalion started. We heard a volley of bombs, and instantly the air was full of flare rockets, and the jig was up. There we were all tangled up in the wire, looking as if a search-light was shining on us. The alarm had been given; men were running along the walks inside, sentries were speeding up their fire, so we had to act quick. Hartley, Archer, Bates, and I crawled up the great high parapet abreast, and each threw a bomb over. They exploded with a fearful crash, and then things began to happen quick — too quick to remember everything. I got on to the broad top of the parapet and looked into a trench ten feet deep and forty feet long. About thirty feet on my left, in a corner, I spotted a sentry. I yelled to the boys to come on, and the sentry took a pot shot at me, but his aim was bad. I shot at him with my revolver. He was yelling ‘ Alarm! ’ at the top of his voice, and then decided to go, and stepped down; but I got him good with my second shot. I jumped into the trench and landed on my feet. I got my back to a little recess and took my flash-lamp and looked at my watch. The rest of the party came over with a rush. Almost at once Corporal Jones was shot through the head, and fell at my feet. I got knocked down with something and dropped my lamp. I took Corporal Jones’s out of his hand, turned around, and flashed it on a Hun who was coming at me head on. I shot him through the stomach. Archer, Hartley, and I got Corporal Jones out, and then Bates, who was dead. It was an awful job, as a dead man is so heavy and the trench so deep. All this time there was the most awful noise going on, and the sky was alight with the flashes of explosions. Our bombs are deadly things, and the Germans were bombing us back. They got a machine gun in the trench and enfiladed us and killed Brown and wounded Sergeant Simkins, and Lieutenant-Colonel Porter, all in one corner. We got them all out. I turned around and examined the dug-out in front of which I was standing, and found nothing there. When I came out, one of the bombers shot at me point-blank, but the safety catch of his revolver was on, so the revolver did not fire. He thought I was a German coming out! Archer came to me, mad as the dickens because his revolver was jammed. I reloaded mine and tried to fix his, but could n’t. So we searched the German I shot and took a box of sugar out of his pocket. We did n’t want the sugar, but the address on the parcel which gave his regiment, etc. I got his cap, but lost it. He was a young, fair-haired fellow, and shut his eyes when I looked at him. I thought he was shamming dead, and ordered him to climb out, and tried to drag him out, but he was too heavy. Soon I noticed nobody but Sergeant McDuff on my right and Captain Ashley on the left. I asked if their parties were all out, and they said ‘Yes.’ So I blew my signal and told them to ‘ beat it,’ and we all jumped.
We had been in six minutes! What happened was that our men spread right and left, and cleaned up three or four bays altogether. We had run slam into a ‘stand to,’ and men were thick. We killed between forty and fifty of them. The men were so wild about Bates and Brown that they killed every one, although they squealed and yelled, ‘Please, mister,’ and ‘Kamerade.’ We got two prisoners, and they were both killed getting them out. We sure got even for the mine explosion in October that night. Well, we ran out of their wire. I was last, and kept chasing them along. I noticed that there was no fire coming from this particular point, and yelled at the men to run. Captain Ashley was with me, and said he was all right, but as a matter of fact he had eight wounds, though I did not know it. Corporal Perry fell in a shell hole up to his neck in water. He was hurt in the knee, and I pulled him up. I finally landed up at our trenches with Sergeant Simkins’s arm around my neck; he was pretty badly shot up. All the way back our artillery kept up a terrible fire on the enemy. The Germans cut loose with everything they had, but I had been figuring the thing out for two months, and knew exactly where they would fire if surprised, and carefully kept out of those places, so got the whole party home without any losses on the way. We got back to our starting-point, called the roll, and found three dead, one missing (probably dead), and five men wounded.
I felt terribly about poor Benton (one of the two scouts who cut the wire). He was in my old platoon, and was a natural scout and sniper, and a man whom all the scouts respected. He was a great chum of Scout Hearn, who was also in the fight and did wonderful work. At the beginning of the row he ran along outside the parapet to the next bay and looked over. Three Germans were running past. He shot them all, and jumped in to meet two others coming the other way. He shot the first and took the other prisoner, but he got killed on him on the way out and fell back into the trench. In an instant he jumped in after him and stripped him of everything but his pants and boots, handed the stuff out in two sandbags, and then on to the next bay. He killed four more, and then spotted a crowd of fifteen or twenty Huns in one place, all struggling and confused. He went back and got two bombers, Nash and Chase, and they threw about a dozen bombs into this mass, and must have nearly exterminated them. It was just sheer butchery, not fighting. On the other flank the fellows got it hotter with the machine-gun, but bombed the crew and destroyed the gun. Captain Archer shot off his first clip of cartridges, then pulled the bayonet from his puttees, and after killing two Germans with that he threw it away, complaining that it was too dull; and taking the bayonet off another German he killed him with his own weapon. I think Fritz will have a wholesome respect for the Canadians after this. Whom do you think we had the luck to thrash so well that night? Nobody else but the troops of the—Division of Prussian Guards, just moved into the trenches that night for a rest(?) after being in many battles on the Russian front. We who could walk marched away home to the Grenade School, where we arrived about 2 A.M. and had a hot meal. General Meldrum, Major West, and other officers came in to congratulate us. I turned in at 6 A.M. but could not sleep, so got up at 10 A.M. and got cleaned up. My face was still black, and my uniform a wreck. The colonel came up about noon, and we started to get the men’s stories. Then I went down to Brigade Headquarters and spent the afternoon there, and had dinner. General Birch and Colonel Geary of the General Staff were down, and shook hands with all the men, and said they had made history, for it was the first recorded instance in this war where a successful attack had been made without artillery preparation to cut the wire. Major Barnes of the Army Staff was down and congratulated me. He is a brother of the great Admiral Barnes. Our men are all delighted, and the fight will buck up the whole division. Colonel Pike says our fellows will never fear a German after that. They say the men in our trenches lined the parapet during the scrap and rooted and cheered for us as though it were a hockey match. When they saw us come out, they set up such a cheer that it could be heard a mile away. Well, I turned in early and had a sound sleep.

Tuesday, February 1, 1916.
Congratulations are the order of the day. I did n’t think our little show would make such a fuss, but it seems that it has. The colonel and I rode over to —to see our wounded, but they had all been cleared the night before for England except White, who had to have an operation, but will be all right. We rode back, and I got a scratch lunch at 3 P.M. That night the battalion moved into Brigade Reserve, so I went up to live at headquarters.
Forgot to say that in the morning we buried Corporal Jones and Sergeant Simkins in the little military cemetery. Our chaplain read the service, and the sad part of it was that his own son, Lieutenant Warren, of the— Brigade, was shot that morning while on patrol in No Man’s Land.

Thursday, March 30, 1916.
Fine and clear. Lieutenant-Colonel Jessop came back, and is acting brigadier, and Lieutenant-Colonel Pierce went on leave. Did not get away from office all day, except for a short walk.

Friday, March 31, 1916.
A beautiful spring day. We were relieved by a British brigade, who are moving into our area, and we moved out to a rest area. They have been in a lot of fighting, so hope they have a quiet time here. We have had a pretty soft time compared to lots of people in this war. We gave their staff lunch, then we handed over and they took charge, and we had dinner with them. It is quite a simple thing. We take out about 4000 men with all their arms, equipment, stores, and baggage, and turn over several thousand yards of line to an equal number of people with just as much stuff as we have. Everything is checked, receipts given; everybody sleeps in a new place that night; and every man has his supper on time. After dinner Lieutenant-Colonel Jessop, Captain Black, and I got in a car, and went away off at a fearful rate of speed over fine roads well over the border into France to a nice big house. I got a good mattress on the floor upstairs and had a fine sleep.

Saturday, April 1, 1916.
A fine warm spring day. I find this is a fine large house in a nice garden, on that busy road up which we marched that dusty day last September. Nearly everybody was out, and I had to mind the office all day. I hated to stay inside.
8 P.M. Just got word that, instead of getting a week’s rest here in good billets, we have to move into another part of the line. Some of the Twenty-Seventh have already started. Poor fellows! they only got here this forenoon, so it will be a long day for them. We go in the morning, so will be up late packing again.

Sunday, April 2, 1916.
A real hot day. Our brigade formed up and away we marched. I was up at 5 A.M. and we were all busy very early. Black and the General dropped out at Division Headquarters, so LieutenantColonel Jessop was in charge, and I rode with him at the head. Two whole divisions were on the move, so the traffic on the roads was immense, but well handled by our police, and we had no blocks, and arrived on time at a town where I had never been before. I was busy directing battalions to their new billets, and had a good chance to see all the men go by. I was never so proud of our fellows. They looked so big and clean and fresh, and compared very favorably with all the British regiments which had passed us. We have a nice camp here, and I am sharing a hut with our chaplain, Major Warren. I wish we could stay here a week. The grass looks so green in the fields, I feel more like playing baseball than anything else.

Monday, April 3, 1916.
Fine and warm. Fairly busy all day. Got another order to move into the line to-night, so the business of packing everything up once more was gone through. Not bad — three moves in three days. We got down to our new headquarters about 9 P.M., and our regiments took over the new line. Our headquarters are in dug-outs, in what was once a garden. We are quite comfortable, but no moving about in daylight and no fires are allowed. I wish I could tell you where we were, but it’s a place with a reputation. The British have just taken a piece of the German line after blowing up some enormous mines, but they did n’t get it quite all and fought for the rest for a week, and now they have it. They are good troops, but badly shot up and dead tired, and were more than glad to see us. No doubt the Boche will try to take the line back, and we are in for a hot time, but we say he can’t do it. To make us feel that this here war is still going on, we were shelled for three hours, just after we arrived, but beyond damaging some good clover in the next field the result was nil. Black spent the night in going over the line.

Tuesday, April 4, 1916.
Black came in at 4.30 A.M. covered to the eyes with mud and very much disgusted. He had a long story to tell, but the gist of it was that things were in worse shape than we thought. He said the dead were so thick he couldn’t help walking on them. I thought he was excited, but know better now. I started round about 10 A.M. and picked up Dan Ferris and Captain Mann of the 28th. Both good snipers, checking things over. We crawled through a long irrigation ditch about two and a half feet deep, called a trench, across what was No Man’s Land. We got to the Boche trench, which was looking very much the worse for wear. My intention was to go through it and out the other side. The water was hip-deep in places. Dead bodies of English, Scotch, and Germans were everywhere. It was not a pleasant sight, but I will spare you the details. About this time the Huns opened up a furious bombardment with heavy shells, about one hundred yards down the line. Pretty soon the wounded began to come out, so I saw it was no use trying to push through, and waited for the cannonade to stop; but after waiting an hour it only got more intense, and, what interested me more, began to come my way. So we all made a motion to adjourn. On the way back a high explosive shrapnel burst over us, and Ferris got hit in the leg, and Mann got a scratch. Ferris joked about it and walked out, but I made him go to the dressing-station and get fixed up. I was bound to get round the line, so worked out to a road about a mile in rear and through a wood where the 29th were in dug-outs. Had lunch with Major Penn and Bob O’Hara, and finally got around to the extreme left near a canal and to the 31st line, but could n’t get back through to the right, owing to a gap in the trench. Five men before me had given up their lives trying to cross the gap, so I could n’t see the use of me doing likewise. I turned back therefore and walked back home. I went out with four men for company, and we were seen and shelled, and had to take refuge in a ruin for a while. I met Major Eastman down the road, and we went out together. When we got near one of the batteries, the Huns shelled it, and splashed mud all over us, so I was glad to get in finally. Our people were heavily shelled in the line to-night. Back at our old area we had the Hun pretty well behaved, but I can plainly see this is a hot spot, and that he will strafe us every chance he gets, and you will hear more of this place later on. One thing is sure, and that is we got a raw deal. We took the place over in the dark from exhausted troops who were only too glad to get out. We had never a chance to look the place over in daylight, and were at once faced with the problem of clearing out a lot of British wounded and burying the dead, as well as trying to consolidate and guard our new line, which might be attacked any minute.

Wednesday, April 5, 1916.
The General and Enderby went around the line and got caught where I did yesterday, and were nearly killed, but got out all right. I have been very busy with maps, as everybody is clamoring for them. The shelling on the line was very heavy, and it is very trying on the men’s nerves to stand in a wet trench for hours and see and hear shells hit the trench all about them, and see their chums getting knocked out. Moreover, the dead and badly wounded usually have to stay there till night before they can be brought out.

Thursday, April 6, 1916.
Was awakened at 3.30 A.M. by a heavy bombardment, so got up, and found the General and Black in the office. Pretty soon the 27th ’phoned to say they had a prisoner and he said the Germans were going to attack at dawn. This was immediately followed by ‘They are attacking now at —,’and the telephone was cut off. Well, things began to hum then. Our artillery at once opened a terrific fire, and the battle was on. It was hard to get news, so I got two scouts and bicycles, and we got down to a little ruined village about a half mile behind the firingline. We had a telephone station and a dressing-station there. I never saw a place that was such a complete ruin. Nothing is standing whole, and our men are kept in dug-outs burrowed into the wreckage. One makes one’s way about, not by following the streets, for that is inviting sudden death, but by devious routes through the wall of one house into another, and by cellars and ditches. The first thing we did was to get an observation post. The country is a flat marsh, so there was nothing for it but a wrecked attic of a school facing the German line. We got sandbagged in there and set up two telescopes, and we soon had the Boche located, digging for dear life in two of the big craters. I had to admire the devils, for they exposed themselves recklessly from the waist up, and worked like good fellows. I got Mann and Ferris (who, by the way, got out of hospital) and twelve other snipers working. Mann crawled up close, under heavy shell-fire, and picked off twelve Huns, and after that they did n’t show themselves very much. Then the Boche did a rotten thing. He laid a wounded Canadian on the parapet and sniped over his body, knowing we would not shoot. I can’t, tell you the whole story, but shortly it is this: —
The British made an attack on the German line after blowing six big minecraters under them. The British then charged over in the confusion, and under cover of their artillery fire, and occupied the German line, but did not get quite all of it, and the Germans got though the gap and occupied one of the craters. But the British finally cut them off and starved them out, and took over eighty prisoners. By this time the British were getting very much exhausted, and had lost a lot of men, whom they had had no time to bury or even carry out. The trenches were waist-deep in water and choked with dead men and débris of all kinds. The result was, we had gained a valuable little knoll, which was defended by a thin line in terrible shape, and where the enemy was sure to attack in a day or two. This was the place we took over in the dark from people so tired and hungry that when they heard we were coming their one desire was to get out. Mind you, these fellows had made a most gallant fight, but they were all done in. It was a leap in the dark for our boys, but they took it cheerfully. I have told you how I went around the trenches on Tuesday. Well, very early Thursday morning, after a most terrific bombardment, which on a small part of our new line absolutely killed or wounded every one there and destroyed all our machine-guns,and flattened the trenches out completely, the Germans came in through the gap and got into two of the craters, and took out people in the rear. Moran and Davis, of the 29th, hung on most of the day, but finally had to pull out. From 4 A.M. until 10 P.M. the artillery of both sides never ceased, until the guns became red-hot and horses and men were exhausted. British gunners who have been in the Ypres salient for a year or more say they never saw anything to equal it. Talk about a shell never hitting twice in the same place! Why, the dirt would n’t settle from one explosion before another shell would land in the hole. The 28th were in the little village and nine of us shared one cold dug-out for thirty-six hours. I was at the telephone most of the time, and got no sleep, and we lived on cold grub until the night, when the faithful Violet brought us down hot coffee and pork and beans.

During the day the 28th made several gallant bombing attacks, and captured and held three of the craters, but had heavy losses. It is a terrible place, all holes and craters and water and dead and wounded men. Lieutenant Robinson led the first bomb attack with all those fine bombers that were in the raid with me, and when he came back he cried like a baby. Kittson tried it next, got out there in the dark, and got absolutely lost till 4 A.M. Friday, and he came in and bawled and wept like a child for half an hour from sheer rage and exhaustion and nerve-shock. Then Peter Baxter took it on, and stuck at it all day, and Newton and Barker relieved him at night. I could fill a book with tales of daring done those two days. Scouts of all battalions made trip after trip with messages in the open, because they could n’t move fast enough in the communication trenches (‘ C.T. ’ for short). Signallers repaired wire under heavy fire. Stretcher-bearers wont everywhere, even into the craters, after wounded. Men everywhere stuck to their ground, when their trenches and dug-outs and wire were all gone and all their officers too. Well, our brigade was partly relieved Friday night, and I walked back to headquarters, helped on my way by a liberal supply of gas shells, which make the eyes water and the throat sore; and finally, after a twomile walk that seemed like fifty, I got there, and found all our staff but Black had gone. The 4th Brigade offered me dinner, and I tried to eat it, but could n’t, as the Germans strafed the whole place. I would just get a mouthful when I would hear a shell coming and have to dive for a dug-out. This part of the country is really getting unsafe.
I could n’t get a bed and had no blankets; but as I had gone sixty-four hours with four hours sleep I did n’t care much, so curled up in a corner and soon was asleep. But Captain James Pelham (son of the General) very kindly dug me up and put me in his cot and slept on the floor himself.

Saturday, April 8, 1916.
General Shelton came down, and I got a ride back in his car, and about noon landed up at the nice rest-camp where we arrived last Sunday. Everybody is all in, and nobody knows the day or date, or when we were here last. We were cheered up by reading in the English papers that ‘the Canadians had lost the trenches won by the British.’ Everybody feels very sick about that. I think it is a rotten thing to say. If we had won them, they would have taken all the credit themselves. The Commander-in-Chief of the Army now says that the line was tactically unsound and an impossible one to hold, and no blame attaches to us. Even at that, if we had had a chance to look it over once in daylight, we would never have let the Germans through. Well, we did our best, and the casualty lists will show that we stood our ground and made a fight, and what’s more, we are still fighting. Newton got relieved tonight and is O.K.

Saturday, April 15, 1916.
Cold and wintry, with showers. Felt miserable all day. Think I have a touch of grippe. Went around and saw the scouts of three battalions. Corporal McBride, of the 28th, is getting a commission, and is going to be scout officer of the battalion.

Sunday, April 16, 1916.
A little warmer. In the morning walked over to the neighboring village, and from there to the 31st camp. Had a talk to the new scout officer and to Lieutenant-Colonel Stone there, and walked back. Worked in office all afternoon and evening.

Monday,April 17, 1916.
Cold and showery. Did not get out of the camp all day. Two of our battalions went into the line to-night. We follow to-morrow.

Tuesday,April 18, 1916.
Cold, windy, and wet. How I hate this country! I am absolutely fed up with the war this week. Got a motor car and the General, Black, Sheyne (the interpreter), and I went down to headquarters in the line. Things have been bad along here, and the other brigade staff are staying on to help us. The amount of work to be done on the line is immense. Sometimes hundreds of men work all night in the rain to do a piece of trench, and the next day the Germans throw a thousand shells or so at it and flatten it out. The amount of artillery ammunition used up in a day on both sides of this front is a fright. They don’t care what they shell or how often. We made a mistake here and the wily Hun is taking full advantage of it. Some day the story will be told. It would be funny if it were not for the fact that so many men have been lost over it.

Wednesday,April 19, 1916.
Was up at 2 A.M. to take the night shift and was busy all day. The night was quiet, suspiciously so. They shelled our men heavily in the craters all afternoon, and they became cut off from us. Just after 6 P.M. we saw signs of an attack coming, and turned loose all our artillery. The General ordered me to go down to the line at once, so I went to the battered little village where I spent April 6 and 7. It was an awful trip. I had Carter, a 28th scout, with me, for no one ever goes alone here. I can’t tell you where we are, but it is in the Ypres salient, and that is the most critical place in the British line and the country fairly bristles with guns. On our way down we had to pass any number of batteries, concealed in all sorts of places, and they were all firing. As it was getting dark, the flash of the guns lit up the sky, and Fritz was busy trying to knock out our guns and catch troops and transports on all roads. Carter and I hit across country, avoiding all hard roads, tramways, and camps like a plague, and sticking to the soft, muddy ground. It was harder going, but, if a shell hit near us, we stood a good chance that it would bury deep in the mud before exploding, and we would be comparatively safe. We could not tell the difference between the shriek of the shells going and those coming. Flares of every color were going up like mad, and our front line was catching it, I could see.
As soon as I got to the village, I got to the signaller dug-out and got busy with the ’phone. I learned that the Germans had attacked and been beaten off, but we had been forced to retire a little in one place. Well, it was an all-night struggle under impossible conditions. The mud is beyond description. It is so deep that it is not possible to walk in it. Men lie on their bellies and wallow and wiggle through it! Then rifles and ammunition become useless, and they are exhausted before the real attack starts. A major who came back to report fainted in my arms, and was unconscious until morning, when we removed him on a stretcher. Fresh troops were put in the line at daybreak, and I saw the others come out. There was plenty of fight left in them yet, but they were very wet and tired. Some were barefoot, having lost their boots in the mire. Of course the rain poured down the whole night on the sodden mass of ground they call Belgium.

Thursday,April 20, 1916.
I stayed till the afternoon going around to the different O.P. (observation posts). The shelling of the past few days has altered the scenery considerably. No definite line can be seen. All is chaos, a mass of torn-up earth, and wreckage, and dead bodies, I got back to headquarters and found they had been shelled last night. An artillery officer was killed, and two men wounded. Our dug-out got a wallop too, but it is a steel one and the shell bounced off. Everybody is dog-tired. I have had no sleep practically for three nights, being sick all the night before we went in. We were all looking forward to a sleep to-night, as another brigade was relieving us, but it ended up in me walking about three miles to the other brigade’s camp. Somebody gave me wrong directions, and I did a lot of tramping around the country before I arrived. Finally, about midnight, Barnet and I lay down on top of Pinckney’s bed and slept till 5 A.M.

Friday, April 21, 1916.
Somebody said it was Good Friday. Have n’t the slightest idea myself. We had an early breakfast and got a car to take us to our headquarters in the rest billets. There was a lot to do, and many reports needed, but I quit in the afternoon and took to bed. I have rather a bad cold and did n’t see how it was going to get better unless I laid up. The faithful Peters put mustard plaster on my chest and got some cough mixture for me. It is pouring rain and a terrible night to be out. How I pity the poor lads in the trenches! The word has just come in to have our gas helmets handy, as there is a gas attack somewhere. We can smell it here. However, I can get twelve hours’ sleep in dry blankets tonight. I suppose this is a holiday at home. This is not a very cheerful diary, but I will be all right to-morrow.