Thursday, 29th October.
The 24th have spent the night in the grotto, the paradise of the trench. The grotto is the name we have given to a deep subterranean quarry, whose passages, thirty feet in height, penetrate right into the hillock.
It has three passages. In the right one a room appears as though it had been specially constructed for our squadron; this we win by main force. Of course, it is as dark as an oven, so we fix wax candles in the jutting ledges. A bayonet dug into the ground with a candle tied on to the handle is used by such as want a light for their own personal use.
Here we are in perfect safety. This is one of the few places on the front where one is completely sheltered from any kind of projectile. In these depths we scarcely hear the roar of the cannon at all.
At nightfall the entrance assumes quite a romantic aspect: a Hindu temple or Egyptian hypogeum, with its blue shadows and vivid lights. By moonlight it would make a fitting scene for the witches in Macbeth. Not long ago we should have spoken of Fafner's cave, Fafner's Höhle!
In the interior the sharp-edged stone also gives the impression of theatrical cardboard scenery; the atmosphere is that of the Quarter: shouts, songs, and laughter, ringing commands echoed by the sonorous vaults—
"The 24th, get the potatoes ready!"
"Muster for fatigue duty!"
And so on. No need to speak in whispers or to put oneself under the slightest restraint. This is a real place of refuge, rendered neutral by nature, and in the direct line of fire. Neither rain nor shot has any chance at all.