Helped by the blazing rick to locate the farm, the German artillery now began to plaster it with common shell, shrapnel, and H.E. It is possible that if they had known it was full of their own wounded they would not have gone for it quite so furiously. However that may be, they finally got it alight, and then followed a scene of hopelessly illogical chivalry, our men risking their lives to save the German wounded from their own shells. The wounded were eventually carried out of the burning building and put in a safer place. At the same time, the Battalion Headquarters and the horses were moved down into the quarry.

As this violent shelling seemed to portend an attack, the trenches were fully manned, with the result that there were many casualties. One shell landed right in the trench and killed Lieutenant Welby and the men near him. He had been slightly wounded in the shoulder a couple of days before, but had refused to go to hospital. Although our gunners replied gamely, they could not compete with the lavish German expenditure of ammunition.

A report having come in that the enemy were advancing, Major Jeffreys ordered No. 2 Company to come up from the quarry, and line its northern edge, so as to be available as a support. It had hardly been there a quarter of an hour when an 8-inch high explosive just missed the farm, and, grazing the roof, pitched right on the edge of the quarry. A terrific explosion followed, and out of the 103 men who had been brought up, only 44 were left, all the rest being killed or wounded.

This same shell also killed three officers and a large number of men of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry, and Lieutenant Huggan of the R.A.M.C., but Major Jeffreys, Major Lord Bernard Lennox, Captain Powell, and Captain Pike escaped untouched, for some unaccountable reason, though they were sitting within a few yards of where it exploded, and men were killed and wounded on every side of them, some of them under cover. The trees on the bank fell down with a crash, and the whole quarry itself was filled with a dense yellow-black smoke.

It was a most disastrous shot, and, to make matters worse, the only medical officer on the spot had been killed, and there was no qualified person to attend to the wounded, with whom the caves in the quarry—seemingly the only safe spot—were now packed. The scene there was terrible. There was no light of any sort until a single candle was procured from somewhere. By its faint and uncertain glimmer ghastly glimpses could be caught of men writhing in pain, with their limbs smashed to pieces. Into one corner were crowded the German prisoners, glad of any shelter from the German shells, and there were also a large number of German wounded, who moaned and cried through the night. The officers and N.C.O.'s of the Grenadiers, who had just left the trenches to get a rest, had to give up all idea of that: they set to work and bound up with such skill as they possessed the wounds of friend and foe.

In the front trenches, meanwhile, shelling went on incessantly, and there were many counter-attacks, directed against the part of the line held by the Coldstream. During the evening two companies of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry were sent up to take over the trenches next morning. After dark the supports were brought from the quarry to the garden at the back of the farm, so as to be near at hand in the event of an attack.

One of the Battalion's much-regretted losses this day was Captain the Hon. W. A. Cecil. He had been in the thick of every engagement since the start, and had gained a great reputation in the past three weeks for the effective way in which he handled the machine-guns. On more than one occasion his keenness had led him into very dangerous corners, and it was while he was reconnoitring for a good position for his machine-guns that he was killed. Lieutenant Stewart was wounded, and Captain Gosselin, who had pluckily stayed with his company, though he was in great pain from the wound he received two days before, was now obliged to go into hospital.

Sept. 17.

The Battalion was relieved just before dawn, and went into billets at Soupir. Officers and men alike were dead-beat, and slept through most of the day. The cold, wet nights had begun to tell on many of them, and some went sick. Among these was Prince Alexander of Battenberg, who got a bad chill, and had to be sent down to the base.

Sept. 18.