"At 12 I had another sleep until 4 a.m., when I became officer of the watch again. There was a good deal of aircraft about. One aeroplane, despite the fact that shrapnel was fired at it every time, was very persevering in returning over and over again. I felt horribly sleepy all the time. At 7.30 Sergeant-Major Stanton took over duty again. So I had my breakfast. Then I had another sleep. At midday I was awakened hearing great excitement occasioned by an air scrap overhead. Four were brought down. I felt too cosy to trouble to get up and look! Up at 12.45. One or two whizz-bangs landed uncomfortably near while I was shaving. At 2 p.m. there was another air scrap overhead. We watched it through our glasses. We saw one of our aeroplanes cut off and brought down into the Boche lines completely smashed. Then one of the German aeroplanes was brought down. There has been considerable aerial activity all day.
"July 7th.
"On patrol with Beesley at night (July 6-7). We left our own trench soon after 10 p.m. and filed up the communication trench and out into no man's land. The moon was shining brightly and a good deal of country was visible in its silvery light. We got our patrol stationed along the line of a hedge, facing the German front line. Then we crouched along to the left to get into touch with a patrol sent out by the Cheshires on our left. It was a strange sensation creeping along no man's land, grasping our revolvers, and anxiously peering into every hedge or bush or tuft of grass or ruined cottage (such as Argyle Farm and Lytham Cot) wondering whether it were occupied; and ever and anon gingerly glancing in the direction of the German trenches, wondering whether we were seen! I cannot understand why we were not sniped; logically we ought to have been; but, fortunately, the enemy were not logical on this occasion. We found the party of the Cheshires and then crept back. We were walking over the same ground where the recent bombing raid had taken place. I am glad the enemy did not do a stunt while we were there! Kerr and Telfer were behind us, wiring. Our patrol, or covering party, ran right across what was avant la guerre, the St. Julien Road. It is now so completely overgrown with grass that it is scarcely distinguishable at first sight from the remaining country in no man's land. All went well until 12.30 a.m. But for the rumble of the guns on both sides of us and the periodical sound of the shells flying high over our heads, the Véry lights and the occasional rat-tat of a machine-gun, there was little in the peaceful, moonlit country-side to suggest to us the fact that we were between our own lines and those of the enemy! However, at 12.30 a.m. we received a curt reminder that there was a war on, and that we were in the very heart of it. Captain Blamey had given orders that, since I was to be officer of the watch in our trench at 4 in the morning, I must leave the patrol party at 12.30 and return in order to be able to get a little sleep before going on duty; so Beesley said that as it was now 12.30 I had better go; and I, therefore, stealthily made my departure. A few yards behind were the wiring party; so I whispered a word or two to Kerr and Telfer. Telfer said that I ought to have a man with me; one is not supposed to go about here alone; so he detailed a man. We were just setting off when, like a bolt from the blue, a rifle bomb burst right amongst the wiring party with a crack; and immediately we heard groans. Three men were wounded: one had his leg very badly smashed, and the other two had nice 'Blighties'—one in the leg, the other in the nose. That was the first shot. Shell followed shell and bomb followed bomb in one continuous succession; a regular strafe began. We made a bound for the nearest trench (Hopkins Trench) behind us. The bottom was full of water; that did not matter; in we splashed, and only just in time. The shells were dropping everywhere. An aeroplane flew overhead and dropped a few bombs, just to liven things up a little more! And then a machine-gun also opened right on to us—only the parapet of the little trench saved us. But for this trench we would all have been wiped out; the bullets were peppering the parapet. Such a to-do it was! After about ten minutes of this, Kerr said that I had better go. Then began the most desperate adventure I have so far struck. I made a dash across the open into the communication trench and hurried down it, bent double. I had to duck constantly, for shells were bursting around me every yard of the journey. The dust raised by the explosions enveloped me; and, to crown all, gas shells came over. But I did not trouble to put my box-respirator on; the gas was not so bad as that. I simply dashed from bay to bay, crouching behind each traverse as the shells or bombs exploded and then bounding on to the next. In many places I went down into thick mud and water up to my knees; but when it is a question of life or death things like that do not trouble one. At last I reached Bilge Trench in safety. It was crowded with fugitives from working parties—amongst them many wounded men. There have been a whole crowd wounded and some, including Sergeant Fergusson of the patrol, gassed. Having got back, I reported the proceedings to Captain Blamey, and then went to sleep.
"At 4 a.m. I got up again and went on duty as officer of the watch. Sergeant-Major Stanton relieved me at 7. Writing in the morning. Much aerial activity. Sleep in the afternoon until 7.30 p.m. Working party with Sergeant Noden in New John Street from Monmouth Trench to Dead End in the evening."
On July 8 I wrote home from Bilge Trench as follows:
"I have just received two letters from home—July 4 and July 5—and I am sorry to observe that you are both becoming anxious just because you have not heard from me for a day or two. You really must not do this. Circumstances may easily arise at any time out here which would prevent my writing for a week or two; it is absurd to put a bad construction on everything. I always write when I can. By the way, blotting paper would be a great aid to writing. But some is probably on the way by now. I received a parcel from home yesterday containing parkin, chocolates, socks, writing material, and magazines. Thank you very much indeed. They have been duly appreciated.
"We had three artillery officers from the 36th Division here yesterday reconnoitring as to where to place their guns. They were at the Battle of Messines and are now coming up here. Recently we have had hardly any guns here; we have been biding our time; if we had had them here now the Germans would have found them out; as it is, they will come as a surprise upon the enemy now; he will not have time to locate them before the great push. We are having the same artillery which did the job at Messines.
"I spent yesterday afternoon sleeping. At dinner I found that Second-Lieutenant Talbot Dickinson, M.C., had returned from leave. He ought to have had his investiture while on leave, but, as there was not one fixed at Buckingham Palace until a few days after the date on which he should return, he had to come back without it.
"Yesterday evening I was supervising a working party under Sergeant Noden, repairing the parapet of a trench. All was quiet while we were at it; but I knew that a raid, about a mile away on our right, was fixed for 1.30 this morning. So, my party having finished their job, I brought them away at 1.20 and got them all back in their dug-outs by 1.30. Then, just as I entered our Company Headquarters dug-out at 1.30, the peaceful night was suddenly turned into hell. With a thunderous noise shells came over from the German guns in hundreds. Our dug-outs seemed to be their particular mark. ('When in doubt, shell Bilge!' was a maxim which Bodington used to attribute to the enemy artillery opposite us.) The place shook. Captain Blamey, Captain Bodington, Beesley, Dickinson and I were inside. We began to think that the dug-out was going to be blown to atoms; but we occupied ourselves by eating some of the parkin you sent! The candles were twice blown out by the force of the exploding shells. It seemed impossible that anything could live in such a bombardment. After about ten minutes of this the others went out, saying that all the officers in the Company should not crowd in the same dug-out during a bombardment because if a shell were to blow the dug-out to pieces we would all be knocked out, which would not do; so Dickinson and I alone remained. I remarked to him that this was a pleasant welcome for him on his return from leave! After 2 a.m. the bombardment began to slacken down; and by 2.15 it was all over, and quiet reigned again. I noticed that it had begun to rain. When we took stock we found that D Company had not suffered a single casualty on this occasion! This struck me as being extraordinary when one takes into consideration the fact that our trench was simply packed like sardines with various returning working parties which had all got congested here—working parties from various companies and regiments; there were some Irish amongst them. It was amusing to listen to the language: men shouting, with all kinds of unmentionable oaths, to each other to get a 'bloody move on for —— sake!'
"It is amusing what a number of new men, 'obviously Derbyites and conscripts,' as Beesley said the other day, have got the wind up. One incident of the kind, related by Captain Bodington, was very funny. He was walking along a trench last night and a man came rushing along as if the whole German Army were chasing him; and he bumped right into Bodington, nearly sending him flying. Bodington asked him whatever was the matter; and the man replied in a voice of abject terror, 'They're sniping at us up there, sir!'