On one occasion early in the day, having to retire from the top of the crest down into the valley, our Company-Sergeant-Major took us viâ the other hill through the wood to the position at the summit of the hill which the Germans held. It was a splendid move, well carried out, and without the loss of a single man.
On gaining the summit on the first occasion one team of our machine-gunners took up position and held it the whole of the day, helping us greatly to secure the position against all enemy assaults. The men stood their ground splendidly, three of them being recommended for the Distinguished Conduct Medal. On our right was the 1st Brigade, and connected up with us was the Black Watch. One large shell of the Germans which pitched amongst a platoon of theirs standing between two haystacks completely wiped them out with the exception of two men.
We continued to advance and retire the whole day through. First we gained ground and the Germans drove us off again; then we came back with redoubled energy, until towards evening we began to hold on and the Germans to retire. On the right of the road was a haystack on fire, and we were in a small trench just thrown up behind it. The bullets were flying from that rick as if a magazine was on fire and it was very unhealthy. At one time we were in a swede field, and a large shell burst in front of us, covering us with dirt. A chum of mine, being hit very forcibly with a flying swede, up he jumped, shouting: "I'm hit, I'm hit!" but came to the conclusion that he wasn't as bad as he had thought.
As darkness came on we all formed up in line, and the Brigadier, coming to the crest, remarked: "The Brigade will bivouac on the ground they now hold. Dig in." There and then we commenced a line of trenches, which are there to this day.
It had been a most awful and bloodthirsty day, with two of the finest bodies of men that ever faced each other opposed to one another. There was bound to be a good fight, and it was the cleanest and most sporting day's battle I have ever fought. Of course there was no time for food, and we got none that day; but we had the satisfaction of knowing that we had accomplished what we set out to do. We naturally had very heavy losses, including our second C.O., several other Officers and a large number of N.C.O.'s and men—in all nearly four hundred. The rations came up that night while we were digging our trenches; they were brought up under cover of the darkness right to the front line and there dumped. Those who were near when they arrived were fortunate, as they got their shares; others who were further away got none. I was one of the fortunate ones, and filled my pockets with small biscuits and a lump of cheese, on which I kept two chums all next day.
During the night we dug our one-man trenches six-foot long and as deep as we could make them; it was hard work at times, the soil being very rocky. I got fairly well down nearly four feet by daybreak, when my Platoon Sergeant came along and ordered me to join my section further along the line, another man whose section was near me taking over my trench. It couldn't be helped, as we had all got mixed up in the day action the day before. When I joined my section I found the trench I had to take over only about a foot deep, and the whole week following, although I was digging on every possible occasion, I could not get down more than six inches, as I had to go through sheer rock.
Soon after daybreak the Germans were off again, shelling our trenches with shells of every calibre. This continued for an hour, but did very little damage. After that they continued to shell our gun positions in the rear, our guns keeping up a steady reply. One Howitzer battery of ours was in a cave, running out by means of rails, situated in the wooded hill behind our lines. The enemy continued to shell with every kind of gun the whole time I was on the Aisne—that is, over a month—and the only casualty that battery had was one man wounded. The German shells would burst round it with a huge roar and a noise very much like "Krupp," and this small gun would answer with a short sharp bang, for all the world as if a little boy had put his fingers to his nose at a policeman.
Just behind the line and halfway down the slope of the hill was the small village of Tryon, where there was a public wash-house. A large shell had pitched there, but never exploded; its weight was not less than one hundred and twenty pounds. There was another on the roadway, and two or three of them in the valley: one stood up on its base. We were down there one day getting wood, and a chum of mine put his foot on it, knocking it over. An Officer passing at the time remarked: "You would have looked well if that thing had gone off!" My chum did not wait to hear any more—he was off.
That valley, when we left it, was like a pepper-box top—simply perforated every few yards. How we managed to remain alive on the Aisne the first week was simply a mystery. Food was scarce; and once we had a single loaf issued out between a hundred men. We tossed for it, the winner to receive the lot, the others going without. After the first week we were much better supplied, having bread or biscuits, with a ration of cheese or bacon, but precious little of that; and oftentimes I tossed for the lot and lost all! Fortunately there were plenty of potatoes and carrots in the ground—these we dug up, boiling them, and, after straining the water off, partook of them with a slice of cold corned beef. Some would boil the beef with the potatoes, thereby getting the salt from the beef into the potatoes: this we called "bully stews."