Now to continue: I hope you noticed the 'Eye-Witness' reports re brickfields, and know it all applies to us. The officers who came out with me were rather fidgety when we had to parade preparatory to going out to the trenches. Happily enough we had not too much to carry, as our servant took our great-coats, but het men besides their packs and great-coats had their furries, fine waterproof capes, trench boots, and most of them sacks of coke, charcoal or wood.
We paraded in the evening - it is best not to say the time - by companies, and marched off to the trenches about four miles off, along a long, straight, flat avenue of poplars. On either side were occasional cottages and inns, were both Frenchmen and our Tommies were billeted - mostly gunners.
By the side of the road you could occasionally make out lines of trenches wired up, here and there large 'Jack Johnson' holes and a small house wrecked by shell fire. And then passing by us were stragglers on foot, on horse, or in motors, a little later before approaching a large village we charged our magazines. So at last we were getting to business and nearing our end, and one felt more and more strained. Suddenly there was a terrific bang and a long-drawn-out swish overhead dying in the distance. 'What's that?' I asked of my companion, and immovable sergeant. 'Oh! it's only one of our own shells going over our heads.' What a relief!
As we got further and further in the village we could see the desolate signs of the bombardment. It is difficult to conceive what wholesale damage shells can do. In that village, with the exception of Brigade Headquarters house and one or two others, not one had any pane of glass left. It was an exception to see any houses with roofs intact; most had their sides torn out. And the telegraph poles were either down or broken off, with the wires hanging in festoons. And all this in a village two miles from the firing line, of a size not much smaller than Towyn. All the place was in darkness, and any lights in the houses were carefully covered up; in various groups were small parties of men talking quietly together. They were the Reserve Battalion, ready in case of emergency.
Directly we had passed through the village we could hear the whistling of bullets through the trees. And away in front of us down the long avenue flares were sent up - Roman candles or something of that sort. Still, on we went. Every step nearer more bullets appeared to be whizzing around us. We got into single file, and men began to straggle. Awful fear we might lose touch, and I was last in a long string of 200 men. taking a short cut across a right angle to hustle up the men, I couldn't help bobbing when a bullet whizzed just under my chin - swear I could feel the draught it made - but it was no good stopping. The bullet that is going to find its billet in me I shan't even hear, so what use to worry?
Well, we kept in touch and came to a ruined farm, and stood in line along the wall, much longer than I liked, while bullets spat and pinged on the wall above our heads, and flares were going up. In the farm buildings were dusky figures of the Grenadiers whom we relieved. A dash across an open road and a stumble which nearly ended in my falling on my face, and I was in a communication trench, which was just wide enough to take a single man abreast and was here 4' 5" deep.
The line had lengthened out, so it was not at all easy to keep in touch, the end-all and be-all of all trench work. So the only thing to do was to blunder on with the help of your elbows, and getting along a trench is not so easy as you think. For one thing it is not straight for more than four yards (it is 'travested' to prevent enfilade and shell fire having much effect). Then there are all sorts of odd offturns to officers' dug-outs, other lines of trenches: at other places there are steps down and other unknown steps up where a piece of the parapet has been blown in, or some walls of a traverse have collapsed. We meandered down this to Hampton Court maze for about 200 yards and we were at last in our position, where we found more Grenadiers, past whom we had to squeeze. There we took up our position, spread out the men and arranged the hourly watches - one man in three does this while the others snooze as well as they can.
Before I had come up I had spoken to the last Officer, so knew roughly how my trenches went and where to put my support (one platoon) and my firing line (one platoon), and I did not have much difficulty in ascertaining my position, with my right over a large main road, which we had previously been on but had had to leave so as to make a détour. On our right flank were the Frenchmen, to whom I had been told to be friendly.
I think you should here get out my rough sketch map. I had my platoons along AB and CD. We had other troops at E and G to I. The french were across the road and had captured the mill the day we came up.
As soon as I had my men out I went along CD under the road and so into the French trenches. They wanted me to see the mill, so along there I went as there was not much firing. At about point X a tremendous burst of rapid firing commenced, and I was really scared out of my life. Here was I in a French trench, away from my post, and for all the row going on, a German attack was being made! I have a vivid recollection of that moment, of the Frenchmen wildly gesticulating, popping up to the parapet, down again to reload, up again, and firing all the time to the skies. There was an awful rattle and flashing, so I clutched my guide, told him this was not good enough, and hurried back in case this was a proper attack. On getting back I found all had quietened down; such outbursts are common with jumpy Frenchmen and our new soldiers. But I had had such a fright - I wasn't going to those French trenches for some time.
At night the Officers took it in turn to do duty, two hours each; in that time we had to blunder round all our trenches. I didn't care for it, my first time, when I didn't know my way about our trenches, and my hand was very close to my revolver until I was quite sure how our trenches went. In these mazes where we have fought one another so often, and each side has held the ground in turn, you can never be quite sure whether a trench won't lead you straight to the German lines, in more than one place in our present line we actually do have communicating trenches connecting ours and their lines.
Morning came: shivering we stood to arms, and with the light, fires on both sides were started, the smoke could be seen curling up. our breakfast was called up, and there in our Captains dug-out we had sausages (mark you), sardines, b. and b., jam and cocoa.
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