All this firing goes on far above the head of the foot-soldier. Still, it is to be hoped that no shot, fired too short, may fall on our group and involve us in the discussion, in spite of ourselves.
Whilst this cannonade is going on we write letters, looking up from time to time to see where the little puffs of smoke mark the explosions.
Wednesday, 28th October.
A bad night. Yesterday, at muster, Sergeant Chaboy explains—
"The first and second squadrons are ordered to leave the trenches. You will advance 150 yards nearer the enemy. There you will dig an advance trench. You will have your work cut out to be completely underground by dawn. You understand?"
It is quite clear. At nine o'clock the half-section is mustered. It has rained, and the road through the wood is muddy and slippery. A few resounding falls. We reach the entrance of the winding passage. Some parts are so narrow that we cannot negotiate them either front face or sideways, because of haversack and musette. Thereupon we force our way through, causing clods of earth to fall to the bottom. The depth of the branch is not the same throughout; from time to time we have to proceed on all-fours. A gamelle, a bayonet or a can are noisy objects which respond to the slightest touch.
On reaching the outpost trenches the men scale the parapet. This must be done quickly and in silence. At the faintest sound the Germans would begin a hellish fire; the French would return it, and between the two we should be swept away.
The sergeant says in low tones—
"This is the spot. Crouch down and begin."