n, and stumbling over the dead that were lying everywhere. Finally we
came to the trench that we were going to take over, and we relieved
what was left of the Royal Canadian Rifles. They were an awful sight,
dirty and bloodstained--many were shaking as though with a palsy--their
nerves literally torn to pieces by the shell fire. But they had no
word of complaint. "All right, boys, it's quiet. All's over now," was
their greeting, but what they said didn't sound exactly true, for we
had not been in five minutes, when with a roar all of Fritzie's guns
opened up once more. Bullets swept over us like hail; it was hell let
loose. The officer in charge was killed almost at once, and Major
Q---- took over the command. I sat in a bay with Sammy, Emerson, and
Sergeant-Major Banks; the other boys were farther along the trench. I
had never seen anything like what we were getting; machine guns were
enfilading our trench--just at my feet was an old empty water can, and
the bullets going in sounded as though some one was playing a drum.
They couldn't hit me, because I was behind a traverse, or jog in the
trench. After a while it quieted down a little, but it didn't entirely
stop, and next morning, just at dawn, it started again, and I hope that
I shall never be called on to go through what I did that day. But if I
lived to be a hundred I could never forget it. Our trench was
literally blown to pieces, and we couldn't do a thing but sit there and
curse our gunners for not firing back--no doubt they were doing all
they could, but the terrific noise of bursting shells all around us
drowned the sound of our own artillery, and we fancied that we were not
being supported. Wounded men were crawling along the trench looking
for a spot that would offer comparative safety, and the rest of us were
sitting in a daze. I was suffering for a drink, and I had no water. I
had started to make some tea, but a shell knocked a big chunk of dirt
into the trench and it upset my canteen. I wouldn't ask any of the
boys for water, for every one needed all they had, and we are supposed
to look after our own. Finally I got desperate, for the smoke and gas
from the bursting shells parches the throat, and I made a search
through a dead man's pack. It wasn't pleasant work, but I found a tin
of milk, and it was worth a million dollars to me then. I had just
gotten my drink, when, all at once, the earth under my feet began to
heave and I was thrown o