The fight went on till eleven o'clock that evening. We were then relieved by the 10th Company, and made our way back along the communication trenches to our old positions. Here we remained until the third day, standing by at night and passing two days without sleep. We were hardly able to get our meals. From every side firing was going on, and shots came plugging two metres deep into the ground. This was my baptism of fire. It cannot be described as it really is—something like an earthquake, when [pg 100] the big shells come at one and make holes in the ground large enough to hold forty or fifty men comfortably. How easy and comfortable seemed our road back to the huts.
We remained in the huts for three days, resting before we went up again to “Hell Fire,” as they call the first line trenches in front of Ypres.
Then suddenly in the middle of the night an alarm. Our neighbors had allowed themselves to be driven out of our hard-won position, and the 6th Company, with the 8th and 5th, had to make good the lost ground. A hasty march through the communication trenches up to the front, the night lit up far and wide with searchlights and flares and ourselves in a long chain lying on our bellies. Towards two in the morning the Englishmen came on, 1500 men strong. The battle may be imagined. About 200 returned to the line they started from. Over 1300 dead and wounded lay on the ground. Six machine guns and a quantity of rifles and equipment were taken back by us, the 132d Regiment, and the old position was once more in our possession. What our neighbors lost the 132d regained. There was free beer that evening and a concert! At 11 p.m. once more we withdrew to the rear, our 2d, 4th and 10th Companies relieving us. We slept a whole day and night like the dead.
On June 15th, we again went back to rest billets, but towards midday we were once more sent [pg 101] up to the front line to reinforce our right wing, which was attacked by French and English. Just as we got to our trenches we were greeted by a heavy shell fire, the shells falling in front of our parapets, making the sandbags totter. Seeing this, I sprang to the spot and held the whole thing together till the others hurried up to my assistance. Just as I was about to let go, I must have got my head too high above the parapet, as I got shot in the scalp. In the excitement I did not at once realize that I was wounded, until Gubbert said—“Hullo, Musch! Why, you're bleeding!” The stretcher-bearer tied me up, and I had to go back to the dressing-station to be examined. Happily it was nothing more than a mere scalp wound, and I was only obliged to remain on the sick-list four days, having the place attended to.
June 24th. All quiet in the West, except for sniping. The weather is such that no offensive can take place. The English will never have a better excuse for inactivity than this—“It is raining.” Thank God for that! Less dust to swallow to-day! Odd that here in Belgium we are delighted with the rain, while in Germany they are watching it with anxiety.
To-day we shall probably be relieved. Then we go to Menin to rest. Ten days without coming under fire. It is Paradise!
Sunday, June 27th. At nine o'clock clean up. [pg 102] At eleven roll-call. At three o'clock went to the Cinema—very fine pictures. In the afternoon all the men danced till seven, but we had to take each other for partners—no girls.
July 2d. 11 p.m. Alarm. Three persons have been arrested who refused to make sandbags. They were pulled out of bed and carried off. Eight o'clock marched to drill. This lasts till 11. Then 1 to 4 rest. Six, physical drill and games. I went to the Cinema in the evening.
July 6th. Inspection till eleven. Three hours standing in the sun—enough to drive me silly. Twenty-three men fell out. Three horses also affected by the heat. Eleven to one Parade march—in the sun. Thirty-six more men reported sick. I was very nearly one of them.
July 9th. Preparation for departure. From seven to ten pack up kits. Eleven, roll-call. One-thirty, march to light railway. At seven reached firing trench. The English are firing intermittently over our heads; otherwise, all is quiet. We are now on the celebrated, much-bewritten-about “Hill 60.” Night passes without incident.