Before I came here I had to go to another part of the line, in which the “Princess Pats” distinguished themselves. We have been hanging on ever since, and a mighty stiff proposition it is. The O.C. to-day told me [pg 118] that he had not slept for fifty-six hours. The Germans in one place are only twenty-five yards away—so close that conversation is carried on in a whisper.
In one place they had stuck up a board with “Warsaw Captured” on it.
My section worked until two o'clock and then the sandbags gave out, so we had to come home. This was a disappointment to me. I wanted to get the job finished. My men went on filling sandbags from the same place last night and discovered the remains of the late owner of the sword bayonet. He has now been decently buried, with a little wooden cross marked—
TO AN UNKNOWN FRENCH SOLDIER
R.I.P.
When you read in the newspapers, that a trench was lost or taken, just think what it means. Think what happens to the men in the trenches; that's the part of it we see. Stretchers pass by all day. Since I have been here the cemetery has grown—a new [pg 119] mound—a simple wooden cross. Nobody talks about it, but everybody wonders who's next. The men here are splendid, the best in the world, and the officers are gentlemen.
A French Soldier.