Just before the relief the enemy expended more than his usual quantity of ammunition on Armentières, and we were not sorry when he desisted shortly before the march to the trenches was scheduled to commence. The relief itself was carried out without any interference on the part of the foe. The companies had been moved round, and the order from right to left was "A," "B," "C," "D." To our disgust, we found that great quantities of gas were in process of being installed in our sector, projectors being located near the cemetery and on the extreme left. Every night large carrying parties of the Irish came struggling up the trenches; and for the benefit of those who have never had personal experience, it may be stated that gas cylinders are no light weight and are awkward things to handle, apart from the extremely unpleasant nature of their contents should a flying piece of shell happen to cause a leak. One very wet night, when the duck-boards, slippery with the rain, made the task more than usually distressing, Captain Eccles was passing down Wessex Avenue on his nightly tour of inspection. Suddenly the sounds of highly-coloured language from the direction of the Fry Pan attracted his attention. Now, it was quite easy to turn into the Fry Pan unwittingly, and even in daylight very far from easy to find your way out again. An unfortunate carrying party, loaded with cylinders, were found by Captain Eccles just completing their third tour round this circular redoubt—an occupation which, when the frequent low overhead traverses were concealed by the blackness of the night, would warrant the employment of any form of bad language. Great apprehension existed in the minds of the authorities, and not without reason, lest the enemy should detect what was going on. Cylinders and gas were never allowed to be alluded to as such either in the front line or on the telephone. They were called "eggs," and incidentally by the men many other names not fit for publication. In addition to this, companies had to send out covering parties into No Man's Land to prevent the approach of any inquisitive German. Lying flat on your stomach in wet mud and grass on a drenching night, and for two hours at a stretch, is most dispiriting work, especially if you have to live in your soaking garments for the next eight days, with the added joy of expecting that you may be in the front line when the gas is being released. Fortunately, during these operations the enemy remained exceedingly quiet. Artillery destructive shoots drew no response; and a rifle grenade and light trench mortar battery shoot on Cell Trench, and wire-cutting in front of Centaur Trench by medium trench mortar batteries, produced no effect on him whatever.
The damage done by the raid barrage was found to be considerable. A trench which had been laboriously constructed from the left-centre Company Headquarters to the detached post at Hobbs Farm, previously only accessible viâ Cambridge Avenue, had been completely obliterated. It appeared to have been in the 100 per cent. zone of the barrage line, and though to save time one did go along it, one risked constant exposure.
The observers now began to notice considerable movement in and behind the enemy's line. Men were seen wearing packs, others popped their heads over the parapet, and transport was heard at night. A relief was suspected, and on May 17th the suspicion was more than confirmed by the unusual activity of the Germans. Their attitude became suddenly aggressive. "Pineapples" became unpleasantly frequent on the left company sector, and a sniper reappeared in the old loophole in the Chicken Run, which had not been used for fifteen days. Fortunately, the larger "minnie," which commenced operations just before our last tour ended, showed no signs of activity; it was probably part of a "travelling circus" brought up for the raid. Anyhow, "pineapples," small though they may be, are noisy and destructive, and made the left company sector very unpopular. There was also a long-range light "minnie" which carried nearly to the subsidiary line. Artillery activity, though spasmodic, was considerable on some days. The left-hand communication trenches—Edmeads and, more particularly, Irish Avenues—were heavily shelled, direct hits being not infrequent, and parties were always being sent to clear away the fallen earth. On other days a few rounds on Houplines and two or three bursts of shrapnel over the cemetery were the only signs of activity.
On May 20th Colonel Fletcher went on leave, and Major H. K. Wilson assumed command of the battalion.
On the night of May 20th we made an attempt to get into Centaur Trench, but the party was detected, and had to retire hastily under a shower of grenades. At 2 a.m. the next morning the enemy returned the compliment by trying to cut off a bombing post situated between Edmeads and Hobbs Farms. The operation commenced with a sudden shower of stick grenades, and a couple of men were seen trying to get through the wire into the derelict trenches in "N" Gap. Bombs were thrown and rapid fire opened, and Rifleman "Gink" Bailey distinguished himself by standing on the parapet and slanging the Germans to the full extent of his very adequate Irish-American vocabulary. The Germans, disliking this, or at any rate not appreciating their general reception, withdrew, and a patrol was immediately dispatched, which located a dead German on the wire. He proved to belong to the 14th Bavarian I.R. Shrapnel was called for on the enemy's front line to welcome their return, after which the night settled down to its normal state once more.
As the spring advanced the trenches lost a great deal of their barren unloveliness. What had been mud or greyish-looking grass now became a deep and luxuriant carpet of bright fresh green, with many a wild flower peeping out here and there. The trees, which so far had been but gaunt skeletons, began to cover their nakedness with fresh foliage. The sides of Gloucester Avenue were gay with poppies and white daisies; Sussex Avenue became an ideal country footpath, dotted with may-trees; and even that forbidding-looking spot the Orchard assumed quite a cheerful aspect. Round Cambridge House the lilacs blossomed out, both purple and white. Roses bloomed in the old gardens near Tissage Dump, and later on a small crop of strawberries and currants was gathered there. A stroll round the line in the early morning was a real pleasure. Just as the dawn was breaking you could wander anywhere. Not a shot would be fired and the guns were silent. As the sun climbed higher in the heavens, the pleasant smell of fresh, moist earth filled the nostrils, instead of the stale stench of which one had grown so sick. Dew-spangled grasses and fern overhanging the trench brushed your face as you passed along. In the rapidly clearing mist that heralded the hot day even the ugliest features of the line seemed to take on a certain softening outline, a certain grace in harmony with the countryside. High over No Man's Land you could see the fluttering lark, and all the air was resonant with its trilling notes. The call of the cuckoo sounded from the trees, and the chatter of sparrows and finches in the overgrown hedges filled the air with a merry sound, while but a few hours previously the nightingale had been pouring out its full-throated melody. "Oh, to be in England now that April's here!" How we re-echoed Browning's wish, with the substitution for "April" of the month of June, at which we had now arrived! How true the words seemed, how deep their significance! Beautiful as Nature was around us, rejoiced as we were at this delightful contrast to the hideousness of strife, yet it increased the bitterness and made one feel more keenly than ever the loathsome misery of war. How one pictured to oneself the peaceful beauty of the English countryside, so like this in outward appearance, and yet so different in reality! How one longed for the war to be over, to wander once more in the fields on a summer's morn, with the black clouds of war cleared away for good, and not merely lifted for a few precious moments!
Boom! The "morning hate" has begun. With a start we come back from our pleasant dreams. Another stifling day is before us, and the never-ending struggle with its monotony, its destruction, its every detestable feature, claims us once more for its own.
One of the special delights of the Commanding Officer was crawling about exposed parts of the sector by day. It was not only his anxiety to acquire an accurate knowledge of his sector, though that was certainly one reason; he wanted to find out where every derelict trench led to, what secrets lay hidden in those areas of abandoned chaos in which the sector abounded, and no one could ever have known his sector better than did Colonel Fletcher. But apart from all this, his old big-game hunting instincts were aroused. This time he was not tracking the shy koodoo or the skulking lion, but matching his brains and his woodcraft against the ever-watchful German. Major Geddes more than once accompanied him on these excursions, as he crawled and wriggled on his stomach from place to place, now lying up to use telescope and field-glasses, now tracing out all the intricacies of our own or the enemy trenches. Home the pair would come at last, with the perspiration streaming down their faces. "Well, that is the best afternoon I have had since the war started!" the Commanding Officer would exclaim, as he sat mopping his face and drinking large cups of tea.
The gas attack had originally been fixed for the night of May 20th-21st. The targets selected for the projectors were Census Support Line, Les 4 Hallots Farm, and Battalion Headquarters at Census Farm. The inclusion of the latter target caused some people certain misgivings, as they had a suspicion—afterwards confirmed from a captured German map—that our own Headquarters were not unknown to the enemy. The usual invasion of our sector by "N" and "L" Special Companies, R.E., took place on the night in question. Extra telephones had been rigged up, and in addition cryptic messages about "presentations of medals" and "indents for bicycles" came frequently over the 'phone. At the last moment the wind veered round, as it frequently did at night. It was too late to cancel the orders by message, so a special signal rocket was fired from Headquarters. It was a red, green and red rocket. The first one lighted refused to move at all; but the second, a parachute light, went up with a roar for about twenty feet, and then sailed off along the subsidiary line. Fortunately, it was successful in stopping the discharge of the gas. We took a more than usual interest in this discharge, as it appeared that we could not be relieved till it took place. However, in the end, when we had been in ten days, the attack was definitely postponed for twenty-four hours to allow the relief to be effected. On the early morning of May 22nd 2nd-Lieutenants Hodgkinson and Little with patrols attempted entries into the German line at Cell Trench, opposite Hobbs Farm and at Centaur Trench respectively. Both were spotted and heavily bombed, Little being slightly wounded, but not sufficiently for evacuation. Lieutenant Alcock two days previously had been hit in the eye by a splinter from a "pineapple," and had retired temporarily to a Base hospital.
In spite of rather depressing accounts from the 2/7th K.L.R. as to shelling in the vicinity of billets, we were glad to find, on May 22nd, that the relief, twice postponed, was really to take place. Dug-outs or "bivvies" are not particularly comfortable—some, indeed, very much the reverse. You get tired of stooping, of working by the light of one miserable candle, of eating at odd times and of sleeping at odd hours. The daily and nightly tours round the line become more than usually wearisome. Duck-boards seem to get more treacherous, angle irons and stray bits of barbed wire seem to project still farther from the sides of trenches; while for the man in the post—and everyone else's position is bliss compared with his—the time must have been trying indeed. Not that it was particularly dangerous, though even in quiet sectors most posts have their highly unpleasant periods; but it was infinitely uncomfortable and trying to the last degree. Besides, there was the pleasant hope that the wind would surely be favourable for one night at least out of the next eight, and then the 2/7th K.L.R., and not we, would experience the delights of a gas discharge, to the accompaniment of the applause of the enemy, which was usually of a vigorous nature. However, the relief took place at last without any hitch, and the early hours of May 23rd found us back in our old billets in Armentières. The routine was the same as last time—working parties, one platoon for special training, and the remainder general training. The new extension for the box-respirator was also fitted, and in addition we received twenty horse respirators, to which even the mules raised no violent objection. The opportunity was also taken to have all the swords sharpened. Two officers at a time were attached for instruction to A/286 Battery, R.F.A., and as the latter's quarters were situated in a comfortable orchard, the two days allowed passed pleasantly enough.