My back was very sore to-day and I could hardly raise my right arm on account of the smack I received last night.
The morale of the men is very low again, but fortunately the weather prevents the Huns from doing anything but shell us.
Sept. 15. Signs of the weather improving at last, but mud is very plentiful and we experience great difficulty in getting about. Artillery and machine-guns were very active on both sides last night, and, as we had unusually large parties out, I had a very worrying time. At one time there were 150 men bunched together on the road for nearly an hour on account of Brigade giving wrong orders. It was a great relief when we were able to move them and no damage had been done—but a mistake like that frequently costs twenty lives and no one is shot for it.
About 2 a.m. I went out in front to reconnoitre a line for wire when I came across three dead Bosche in a shell-hole. One was an enormously fat man, and as I was turning him over to cut off his shoulder numbers he grunted fiercely like a man awakening from a heavy sleep. For a moment I was horrified and put my hand on my revolver and waited, for perhaps half a minute, undecided what to do. Then I saw the truth. The noise which had startled me was due to the gases of decomposition being forced through his mouth when I turned him over—another of the glories of war!
Sept. 16. A really fine day at last and our spirits rise accordingly—our hopes are drowning and we have to clutch at the flimsiest of straws.
Last night was very quiet and a lot of good work was done. The men went back about 4 a.m. and I turned into Battalion H.Q. for a pow-wow with the Colonel. As I was walking home about half an hour afterwards the Hun put down a very heavy gas-shell bombardment, particularly around the track. I lay in a hole for half an hour with my mask on and was frightened to death lest I should be splashed with some of the infernal liquid. The shells were not more than 18–pounders, but some of them were unpleasantly close. This morning Division reports that some 3000 shells came over in the half-hour.
A new officer joined us to-day. He is about thirty, wears gold-rimmed glasses, and has never seen the war before. He looks around with the wonderment of a little child and will be an infernal nuisance to us. Still, I suppose there are no real men left now.
Sept. 17. Spent the night by myself crawling around in front and noting the places most in need of wire. I came across a German post with four men in it and a light machine-gun. They were well forward, quite isolated and obviously nervous. I told the nearest company, but they wouldn’t do anything, and even looked frightened to think that there were real live Germans so near them.
A sod splashed down in the trench outside, and I noticed the orderly at the door, a lad about eighteen, jump and nearly drop his rifle. It all makes one very sad if you look back upon the days when there would have been a clamour to go and snaffle that post. And this is the Division which captured and lost one village seven times on one bloody day, and finally held it against all attacks with a fifth of its effectives on their feet.
Sept. 18. The men went back into reserve billets to-day, but I stayed on with the relieving sections. The ground is beginning to dry again and life becomes more pleasant.