From noon onwards firing grows more intense; it is a tempest of iron until five o'clock. Storms of German shells beat down upon Bucy, whilst our own 75's crash their projectiles on to the trenches opposite. In the midst of the din we distinctly note the roar of the heavier shells passing overhead with the sound as of a slowly moving train over an iron bridge.
As though the rain were not enough, a hailstorm begins to lash our faces. Thunder-claps alternate with the roar of cannon. The sky is lit up with lightning flashes. We are in a state of utter stupefaction when the hour of relief arrives.
On reaching our Ali-Baba cave, we learn that a 210 shell fell this afternoon in front of the grotto on a spot which for months we have regarded as absolutely sheltered. Sergeant Martin has been hurled into the air and the cooks flung pêle-mêle on to the ground. Even in the galleries the men have been lifted off their feet by an irresistible shock. It is discovered that no one has received any real harm except Sergeant Martin, whose left leg has been cut off close to the pelvis. Debris of red cloth and of flesh are still strewn around the enormous hollow dug by the projectile.
Saturday, 9th January.
After a delightful and dry night spent in the grotto, we are sent to clean out the branch trenches. Jacquard remains in the grotto busily occupied in arranging in a box our store of chocolate tablets.
Outside, the dance continues: 75's, 77's, 90's, 105's, 155's, and 210's plough their way through the air. With hands crossed on the shovel handle, and one foot on the iron, we watch these latter shells fall around the Montagne farm, and upon Le Moncel and Sainte-Marguerite: first a black cloud, then a red star-like flash and finally a thunderous explosion.
The enemy is trying to find our batteries. From time to time four shots from a 75 follow one another in rapid succession as though to say: "Don't concern yourself." The spectacle is so fascinating that we do not feel at all inclined to work.
Violent fusillade from the direction of Crouy.
Towards evening the rain stops a little; so does the firing. The company is again installed in the first line.
Verrier, Reymond, Maxence and myself are appointed to occupy in turn two loop-holes and a dug-out. This latter is not an attractive place: a cavity of three cubic yards dug in the side of the trench. There is scarcely room to move one's body, and a few inside repairs are quite indispensable.