"No; shelled like billyho. They've got the range nicely."
"Where's the Boche?"
"Don't quite know; somewhere in front. About eight hundred yards away there's a trench which forms three sides of a square, each side about three hundred yards, with the open side resting on Leuze Wood, and the lower end extending into the wood."
"Fritz there?"
"In the upper part, yes; but the lower part is a bit of a mystery. The part that extends into the wood the —— Regiment are holding; but the rest of it the Boche seems to have. At least, that's what I think. Awkward position! Well, cheer oh!"
After a sleepless night I anxiously waited the rising mist to take a view of my surroundings. There, on the right, was a high table-land, with a frowning bluff overlooking the town of Combles, which slowly emerged, house by house, from the rising mist.
In the trench the right man of my company was vigorously shaking the hand of a French soldier, who marked the left of the French army.
There, straight in front, could be faintly seen the trench formed in the shape of a square, and left of it Leuze Wood. But what were those peculiar stumps to the left of our trenches? They looked like the remains of a copse which had been shelled until only the stumps of a few trees remained. And where was Falfemont Farm? There was no sign of it anywhere. I was not sure of my position on the map; it was puzzling.
I went over to consult the French officer on my right:
"Morning, monsieur," I said, approaching a smart young officer.