n my face. I scrambled up again, but the earth
was rocking like a ship at sea. Finally it stopped, and we looked over
to the front lines which were held by A and B companies, but all we
could see was smoke, black smoke right up to the sky, and then we
realized what had happened. Our front lines had been blown up with
mines, and now all the artillery that had been playing on our front
lines was lifted on to us, and our hell became worse than ever. Then
the Germans came and we had our hands full. A machine gun battery in a
strong point just ahead held out, and a trench mortar on our left
supported us, and our few lads did the rest. We were using the Ross
rifle, and we fired it till it jammed; then we grabbed some
Lee-Enfields that had been left behind by the E. C. R.'s. Fritzie
seemed doped, and he came forward carrying full kit and trench mats.
They were evidently surprised to find any one alive, for when we began
to fire they stared around stupidly. Then our fire caught him, and as
he attempted to get through the gap in our front lines the portion of
line that had not been mined swept him with their machine guns. All
the time our boys were just being wiped out with shell fire. Little
Henry Wright was hit in the knee and started to crawl out over the back
of the trench. I grabbed him and brought him back and stuck him into a
hole out of the way of flying splinters. "You won't leave me, will
you, if you have to go back?" he cried. "Not on your life," said I.
"But don't be afraid--Fritzie is not going to chase us out of here."
Just then somebody came along and said that the Germans had broken
through on our right. I looked at Sammy and said, "This back to back
stuff isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?" Sammy grinned and we
went on firing, and an officer that came along told us that the report
we heard was not true--our line still held.

Just then poor old Baldy was blown to pieces by a shell; he had thrown
up his bomb-proof job and had come back to the battalion. Chappie was
struck by a piece of that same shell, and he got it right through the
lung. Oh, how he did suffer! We couldn't take him back to the
dressing-station on account of the terrific shell fire, and he lay in a
sheltered part of the trench slowly bleeding to death. We took turns
in going to see him. "Tell my little girl that I died fighting," he
said to Bink. His chum, Marriot, came rushing along--"Oh, deah boy,
I'm so sorry you are h