As day broke the men stood to arms, and had to remain standing much against their will. As it became lighter all the parapets and heights of the firing positions had to be adjusted as well as the field of fire: ranges also had to be attacked.
Then when it seemed more certain, the Germans weren't going to make an attack today, men were sent for wood and water from the desolate houses. Platoons were numbered off in sixes and No. __ was put on guard. Fires were soon started, and by peeping through a loophole you could make out the German trenches with their reels of smoke rising above them.
The men had bacon, onions, biscuit and tea, no milk. We officers went off to our dug-outs and had the same sort of meal.
After breakfast the men's rifles had to be cleaned and polished as if on parade - it is difficult to say how caked the rifles can get, and the ammunition the same. And yet it is so important to see that the rifles are ready for any emergency; you can understand what a few jammed rifles and burst chambers can do to endanger the lives of every man in your platoon. So it is that nearly every hour on the day either you or an N.C.O. are examining bolts and triggers.
And in the same way it is inconceivable how slack (or is it cowardly?) some men are not to look to and prepare their own firing position. Quite a few are happy to blaze away at the tops of trees, while remaining all the time well under cover. I see to it and enforce that every man can, f necessary, hit a German's feet five yards away from the parapet. This distance is none too short in these pitch dark nights - when it is inky, and no mistake.
After rifle inspection other men are told off to dig or make up the parapets or build up the firing trenches where there is not less than four feet of earth in front. Little else will stop a bullet.
After that I am practically free and can lie down in my dug-out, where fresh straw has been brought me by my orderly, before my burning brazier, or tke a stroll to see other bits of the line where my company is, or if I have cheek enough, my Battalion is - then you run the risk of running up against Captains and Majors of Companies and possibly the C.O. (heaven help me then!), who want to know what you are doing.
As you wander round, on either side you can see pathetic little wooden crosses where our brave men died in the recent fighting in this place, on the 29th: here, a Northants Subaltern, who I hear did splendidly; there, a K.R.R.C., a Black Watch, and many Coldstreams. And so I come to a trench still more in front where all the men are chirpy enought counting the Germans who lie scattered in the turnip field before them - they must have had a dusting. While I was totting them up a bullet went whizzing over my head - I ought to say through my hair - and I was called down by a rich brogue, 'Get down, sorr; that was meant for you' - and I never realised it. After that I was more careful to look through a periscope and through one glass only of my glasses.
With regards to those so-called dead bodies, it is interesting (and not too crude I hope for you) to know that in the day we teach our men to have fire practice at them. One Company had asserted strongly that these bodies or forms disappear in numbers, by night especially, and it appears that German snipers can take advantage of the cover afforded by the dead comrades to have pots at our loopholes. Ther are no more snipers of that sort in front of our lines.
The first morning was a beautiful spring morning, even larks were singing. We hadn't been long at work when an aeroplane came overhead from the direction of our lines, shut off steam, planed downwards, had a good look at the network of our trenches, and was then off to the German lines.
Then we heard a dull boom behind us - the sound is really like that of a big bang on a big drum, as the Cinema theatres will have it, though I always thought it foolish - and in about ten seconds a puff of smoke appears in the blue sky, well behind the Taube, of course. At least a dozen shots were fired - well wide of the mark every one of them - we can't expect too much of the accuracy of these guns, but we like them to go off, as besides frightening the aeroplanes, their shots give rise to speculation and always look well.
We know what to expect after this visit, and, sure as fate, the Germans began bombarding us to shake our breakfast down - our gunners shouted about the same time, and for a long time frightened me more than our own until I as taught to recognise the various sounds. With us there is a great bang follwoed by a long swish through the air, and up we all get to see what luck and how close it burst to the German trenches. Then perhaps 'Mother' will send one in: she blows off seven miles off, and puts out her half-ton shot. Her shell goes so slowly you can imagine you can see it swinging though the air, and then there is a tremendous bust as it throws about all around it.
With the Germans, on the other hand, the bang and short swish comes about the same time. Generally they make good play on the ground between the trenches, or shell our imaginary supports coming up the road. The one which you don't hear until it bursts on you will finish you for the time being.
As the bombardment goes on and as you potter about all the trenches the men show you their souvenirs - generally chunks of scrap iron, or copper ribbed plate - a great prize is a shell time prize head, and one man picked up a litle copper image. Much shelling is likely to give you a headache, but apart from that you are none the worse for the morning's doing.
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